Fracture sf-5

by Randolph Lalonde

  Stephanie's arm went around her waist and she was guided to a side passage that led to the security office before anyone else, Captain Valance included, could get to her.

  Jake made eye contact with Stephanie as she turned away and was reassured by her knowing nod. She'd take care of her more sensitive best friend, there was no one better on the ship. “Stop all justice feeds and archived programming,” he ordered Jason as he turned around.

  “Already on it. We'll have a master copy of everything in digital quarantine. Two other people have seen that advertisement though, it's marked as high priority on at least thirty networks.” Jason was silent for several moments as he worked the semicircular holographic display in front of him, there was so much information scrolling no one else could keep up. He turned white and shook his head; “They tortured some of them to make effective commercials. I'm sorry Jake.”

  “I should have seen this coming,” Jacob replied quietly, trying to help sift through the more sensitive data.

  “Let's hope the few people who received that ad didn't know anyone from the Samson and just skipped through it.” Something else caught Jake's eye then and he brought up his financial information. He was confronted with a display filled with red marks. With a quick twitch of his finger he hid the financial report. “All right, have we sent all the crew's messages?”

  “They're out.”

  “Good, shut it down.”

  “We planned for another nineteen minutes.”

  “I said shut it down,” Jake reinforced firmly.

  Ayan activated the kill switch for the wormhole system and it powered down. “On the brighter side, the test was a fantastic success.” The initial technical report on the wormhole systems started to come in, filling the air in front of her with electrical schematics, power readings, wormhole trajectory, compression and emitter stress data.

  “We contacted over twenty thousand nodes anonymously and released our packets into the network without origin markings. The communications systems that picked them up will automatically mark everyone's messages with their origin markers and it'll look like the crew's messages came from everywhere at once,” Jason said as he confirmed that everything had been sent and accepted by at least one hypertransmitter node.

  “Good. How often do large ships do that kind of thing?” Jake asked.

  “All the time. Military ships, pirates, slavers, you name it. They all like to keep their positions on the hush so anonymous transmissions are a must if they have a big enough vessel.”

  “I thought so. Send my congratulations to the crew and tell the flight deck to make final preparations to launch fighters. We need to clear out the raiders so we can make repairs and move on.”

  “Aye,” Oz acknowledged, starting to stand.

  Jake caught his arm and looked him straight in the eye. That expression was gravely serious.

  Oz sat down. “Privacy mode, command seating,” he ordered the bridge systems. A visual blurring and audio obscuring field surrounded the five command seats at the centre of the bridge. “What's going on Jake?”

  “There's more to the public execution situation. Wheeler. He's hunting down former Samson and Triton crew members and making an example.”

  “Isn't Wheeler dead?” Ayan asked.

  Jake didn't reply, only brought up a Justice One Station broadcast marked with the Regent Galactic and Order of Eden logo. As the program identification faded a gargantuan stadium appeared. It was marked with countless sponsor logos, even some of the front row attendants were covered with them. The green padded surface of the field surrounded a massive platform. Several humans hurried around, picking up what appeared to be small mechanical and organic parts from the synthetic turf.

  “This is a half time show?” Ayan asked, quietly shocked and appalled as she pointed to the platform that had risen out of the centre of the field. It came equipped with a pit for musicians, trap doors, a long restraint rack with three prisoners under a black sheet and several heavily armed guards.

  “Looks like it,” Jake muttered.

  “What sport is the field set up for?” Oz asked, looking at the ruled sections of the field.

  “Crush League Rugby.”

  “I've heard of that. Cybernetics are legal and anything goes, right?”

  “Yup. It's almost as popular as Hyper Pongo on the fringe,” Jake said absently. “There, there he is,” he commented as the holographic display focused in on a darkly dressed figure on stage. The caption beneath him marked him as Captain Lucius Wheeler, his grinning face looked over the tens of thousands who cheered at him expectantly. His dark hair was shorter, and he wore a Freeground vacsuit under a heavy black trench coat much like Jake's but it was impossible to identify him as anyone but Wheeler.

  “So it's true, they weren't just faking him when the Saviour attacked the Triton.” Jason commented.

  “They must have had a scan of him. According to the Wheeler who died here he was in Vindyne's inventory for a long time,” Jake added.

  “Hello Segoma Five!” Wheeler called out as the band's pounding music subsided. The audience cheered with renewed gusto. “Welcome to the Order of Eden Half Time Show!” He waited for the applause, cheers and whistles to calm before going on. “I'm Lucius Wheeler, Captain of the Order of Eden ship Saviour and I have the pleasure of announcing the new most wanted man in the galaxy! Before I let you see the face of this traitor, let me tell you a few things about him. He was born on Freeground, an old trader station where people live hard, isolated lives and keep to themselves, hoarding needed supplies and overcharging travellers who are unfortunate enough to get caught in that area of dead space for food and repairs. I know all about it, after all, I was fortunate enough to escape about fifty years ago. This man is no brother of mine or friend to us, however. After getting kicked out of the military and assigned to a console to review manifests all day he gathered a group of friends together and commandeered an old destroyer that was about to be decommissioned. They called it the First Light and began a crime spree as pirates and looters. Eventually they were captured by Vindyne but instead of going quietly our man here released a virus into their computers and eventually escaped. That program, that very same program eventually evolved into the Holocaust Virus!” He exclaimed, outraged and thrusting his finger up into the sky. The audience was starting to rally, booing, hissing and shouting.

  Wheeler let them go on, seemingly furious as he paced the length of the stage. With a surprising suddenness he stopped and whirled at the audience. “That's right! One man! One man with complete disregard for all his brethren removed the safety limiters on his personal artificial intelligence and unleashed it on the galaxy, ignoring the Eden Two Conventions and slaughtering billions! Our brothers! Our sisters! Our fathers and mothers died because this man did not want to face justice! He presents himself as a hero, a champion of justice and freedom and as soon as our own machines started slaughtering us he disappeared! But not before-” Wheeler took a breath and calmed down, addressing the audience in a conspiratorial tone. “-not before he could recruit hundreds of desperate souls. People who were unaware of his involvement, unaware that in truth he was the cause of their hardships. Most of them are aboard his new stolen ship now, the Triton, a ship he stole from a Sol Defence perimeter station. His new crew are serving him unaware that he has no way to pay them. Regent Galactic and the Order of Eden have frozen his accounts, petitioned the Core World Prime Justice to issue a galaxy wide search and destroy order and to review the evidence against him!” The crowd turned, cheering and beating a thunderous tattoo with their feet in the stands. “We didn't stop there! Today I have the pleasure, the privilege to present to you two Captains and a navigator who have willingly served the dread Captain Jacob Valance!” he whipped the sheet off of the restraint rack, revealing the stripped, emaciated forms of two women and a man.

  “Oh my God, who are they?” Ayan whispered, shocked.

  “The captains who retired from the Samson and bought my c
argo haulers; Monica Albany of the Temperance, Tasha Pauley of the Bakersfield and my old navigator, Lawrence Silver. He and Ashley shared a bunk for a few months before he broke it off and left the ship when I quit hunting.”

  “Poor girl, no wonder she couldn't keep it together.”

  “You know the game!” The image of Wheeler exclaimed excitedly. “On your Civicomm you have the names and crimes they've been convicted of and it's up to you to decide which one gets a dose of pain or should be given the final, merciful jolt that will burn their brains from the inside out and end it all! Remember! It's not just your decision, only when seventy percent of the votes call for the death of one of Jacob Valance's co-conspirators will they be put out of their misery, so make sure you don't press that red button too early! Make sure the people watching across the galaxy see how we treat pirates, looters, and mass murderers. Anyone who signs up for his crew can expect the same! Now let's have it! Mob justice! Mob justice!” he shouted, raising his arms, clapping his hands.

  The crowd joined in, calling for blood, stomping their feet to the rhythm of their repetition; “Mob justice! Mob justice!”

  “I can't hear you!” Wheeler prompted tauntingly, cupping a hand behind his ear.

  The stadium erupted with renewed fervour as his hand hovered over a large red button and the band struck up an upbeat marching tune. The prisoners behind were exhausted, their heads hung low, forced to stand upright in the rack restraints. The brown haired woman on the left wearily shook her head as the other two wept, their shoulders shaking, bodies trembling with fear.

  Tens of thousands of people cheered as Wheeler's hand came down on the red button and the rack lit up. In the next instant the prisoners were twitching, writhing, incoherently screaming and wailing as the audience manipulated controls that sent pain to one of them at a time. Wheeler took a deep, slow bow as he was lowered into the stage.

  Jacob turned it off, exhaling shakily. His jaw was clenched, eyes cold, his hands clutched the arms of the Captain's chair. No one had ever seen him that angry, few had ever seen anyone so angry in fact. Jake's gaze was fixed to a point somewhere in the air in front of him as he spoke quietly; “Repair the ship. Harvest what we need, open trade talks with the raiders or clear them out so we can work with the station. I don't care who we're dealing with, just get us back in shape. Tell the crew what they can expect if they're captured.” His head turned mechanically and those cold eyes met Jason Everin's. “Find Wheeler.”

  “That transmission is four days old, he could be-”

  “Find him!” Captain Valance shot to his feet and pointed at the front of the bridge, his outburst so sudden and furious that everyone on the bridge jumped. “If you can't find him then find us something to hunt down and tear to pieces! They want a menace? I'll give them one!” He turned and stalked off the bridge, his long black and crimson coat flipping out behind him.

  Chapter 4

  Blame

  There was a moment's pause before Ayan was admitted inside the new Captain's ready quarters. She was a bundle of nerves. Waiting for the door to open gave the knot in her belly a chance to grow and make her even more uneasy about approaching Jacob, who had become more of a mystery to her over the past two weeks.

  The extended test results of the wormhole generator systems would wait, besides Finn was focusing on it and would tell Chief Grady if there were any problems. Preparations for the installation of two of the Triton’s main engines were complete and the other, less important internal repairs she was supervising had finished the day before. She was the only one on the bridge who had time to approach him.

  She wanted to, but at the same time she couldn't avoid the feeling that somehow she'd done something wrong. He was distant, difficult to speak to and never around when she had a spare moment. Oh, come on! You're a trained military officer, have seen war at point blank, survived more than most could imagine and have led engineering crews through damage control during actual combat. You used to have enough confidence for four officers! What's more, we were overjoyed at being reunited two weeks ago. If there's been a tumble away since there can't be much to getting back to where you were! She admonished herself inwardly.

  The new ready quarters were larger than the old. After the hull in front of the bridge was repaired the decision was made to make the forward Officer's meeting room and ready quarters into another armoured layer to further fortify the bridge. The new ready quarters were located above the bridge with a one man elevation pad so the Captain could be there at a moment's notice. There was also a private hallway that led directly to the captain's and first officer's ready quarters. That was the route she had chosen. For some reason she didn't want everyone on the bridge to know she'd gone to see him, as though she didn't want her worry to become public knowledge. From what she'd seen few people aboard ever worried about Captain Valance. She didn't know what would happen if they started.

  He was in his dark long coat standing in front of the thick forward transparent bulkhead. Through the transparent wall the seemingly endless expanse of rotating grey, white and blue asteroids stretched out. The light of a white star made them glitter like they were encrusted with gemstones as they moved past.

  Ayan stepped inside and let the door close. “Are you all right?” aloud the words seemed thin, her voice was that of a shy petitioner in her ears.

  “I'd ask you to sit down but they haven't brought the furniture up yet. Not a priority,” he replied. His voice was different, lower, devoid of emotion. It was the sound of the wall she'd watched slowly build between them.

  “I'm sorry about your old crew members. I wish I had known them.”

  “Silver was a nervous pretty boy.” He let the statement hang in the air before sighing. “You would have gotten on well with the rest,” he continued in a near whisper. He sounded much older somehow, tired. “Good people, trustworthy, steady.”

  Ayan watched him for a moment, catching a reflection of his face in the transparent metal for a moment. It was etched with deep worry. Slowly she crossed the broad room and leaned against the hull beside him. Seeing him that way at least gave her an idea of what was going on, of how to approach him. “Talk to me Jake, what's going on?” she asked as his expression started to harden, the wall was going up again.

  “It's over. I can't keep the Triton running with a crew this size, let alone finish recruiting a full crew for her. It's true; Regent Galactic has petitioned the Core World Trade Council and had my accounts frozen. It went through and my accounts may as well be empty. I have the repair cash stowed under the Samson’s reactor and that's it.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Ayan couldn't help prod him. She was starting to understand what had been happening since she'd come aboard with Oz, Jason and Minh. He was keeping all his worries, all his problems to himself. Running the ship day by day wasn't difficult for him, but handling the larger issues like the direction the ship was taking were weighing him down. He needed to find a confidant, to vent, and she'd been around enough stuffy officers to know how to guide someone into investing that trust in her.

  “They'll mutiny! These aren't Freeground troops or some government outfit I have running the ship, they're mercenaries!” He exploded as he turned away from her and started pacing.

  “Are they? You treat them like they're mercenaries, but are they really?”

  “Of course they are! Most of them have no ties, half or more come with combat training, if they don't like what's happening aboard then they'll take action.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “What?” Jake looked at her as though she'd just switched languages.

  “They're refugees. A few of them are mercenaries, sure, but I've met most of the more questionable crew members and they're in their glory here. A lot of the crew have never lived so well. They get three meals, a safe warm place to sleep, security to help them find their way and watch over them and four days out of five they have an eight hour shift. There have been a lot of double shifts recently but you shoul
d see them Jake. They're working shoulder to shoulder knowing that this is their home. Some don't want leave, they just go virtual the moment their shift ends. I think the prevalent complaint is that you're not allowing leisure programs to run on the sim system.”

  Jake burst into a short laugh and threw up his hands; “so if I give them a bunch of games they'll keep working once they realize I'm dry?”

  “That's not my point. There are a lot of ways a ship like this could make money, even enough to pay a full crew. How many does it take to run this ship, anyway?”

  “ Triton is fully crewed at thirty two hundred with an artificial intelligence and fifty one hundred without,” Jake filled in.

  “Good! I know you've been thinking of going pirate ever since we got back from Pandem, so we go Pirate. Tell the crew it'll be a while, maybe we'll lose a few, but we won't lose many. Frankly I'm surprised. You've been out here longer, you know how to run a ship better than anyone without support.”

  “Going pirate isn't as easy as it is in the holomovies. First you have to find a good mark, and in the case of this crew that means a Regent Galactic or Order of Eden ship or convoy. Maybe some corp that doesn't see you coming which usually starts with a man on the inside. Then we have to risk our necks taking whatever we can sell. Then we have to find someone with cash who wants the stuff. If we're lucky we can get signed on as a privateer, but with the bounty on my head there's no way any government in the sector will take us.”

  “So, register someone else as Triton’s Captain. That might make a loophole big enough for a government to work though. Maybe we leave the sector to find someone with a grudge against Regent. I'm sure the Order of Eden has enemies, I know Regent Galactic does.”

  “Like who?”

  “I have no idea but I'm sure we can find someone. Between Jason's intelligence background and our new hypertransmitter I'm sure we can find someone.”