Trapped: Chaos Core Book 1

by Lalonde, Randolph

  “Oh, I like those, the better ones, anyway.”

  “Check medication, too if you can,” Aspen said. “You’re looking for anything that begins with Nacro or Cetri.”

  “Those are mind altering,” Mirra said, taking her dress off. “Powerful.”

  “I need to clear my head a little,” Aspen said, about to ask what she was doing when Mirra gently put her in the warm spray of the shower and wet a washcloth, following her in. “I can wash myself.”

  “There’s nothing more relaxing than letting someone take care of you. I’ve been doing this for years, trust me,” she replied with a gentle smile.

  Spin peeked at the spot her computer display was tattooed on her arm, and it showed her – and only her – an image of Della running towards empty crew quarters. With her nod of permission, Mirra began washing the blood off her, and she closed her eyes.

  Her touch was firm but soothing, what she thought a mother’s touch must be like.

  “All finished,” Mirra said as Aspen was just starting to relax to the point where she thought she could slip into a snooze. “Out, before we get prune-y.”

  “You look all clean and new,” Della said as she dropped an armful of clothing and other things onto the bed. “I found these,” she said, presenting her with a slim bottle of pills.

  Spin looked at the name then the stamp on the top pill and nodded. “It’s strong enough, but I won’t lose any memories permanently,” she said, popping one in and crunching it. It was so bitter she flinched.

  “You okay?” Della asked.

  “Just shouldn’t have bitten that one,” Aspen said, already feeling the emotions surrounding Larken’s death fading, her love for him was going with it, and she was glad it wasn’t permanent.

  “How does it work?” Mirra asked, pulling a blue and white jumpsuit from the pile of clothing and sizing it up.

  Spin sighed, her head clearing. “Agoes, or Cetrimemodel helps the mind locate traumatic memory and then turns the volume down on them, so I can process them slowly. It doesn’t mess with long term memory, so I won’t lose anything. These last thirty standard days per pill, they’re the expensive ones. Really expensive, I could get five thousand credits apiece for them.”

  “That I knew,” Della said. “Tilly doesn’t take anything but these, and she takes them a lot, like two every three days? That can’t be right…”

  “No, you can abuse ‘em, they’ll start flipping switches in your brain, turning depressing thoughts into the funniest thing, but it stops working on fear and anxiety before long.”

  “That really explains a lot,” Della said. “This is what I could find after going through about half the cabins.” She gestured to the bed where she’d laid dozens of articles of clothing in a pile. “It’s all clean, I don’t know what you want to look like though. I got a few things for Mirra and me too, hope that’s okay. I don’t want to wear this stupid maid outfit a moment longer than I have to.”

  Aspen nodded. “They’re a bit conspicuous. Go ahead and change.” She laughed at how quickly the maids’ uniforms came off. Della stripped faster than her counterpart, and with a celebratory flair. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

  “Ripping these off and getting into the closets of our masters? You betcha,” she replied, holding up a thin, white containment suit that sealed up the front. “This would look good on you, but it’s not an undersuit. The tag says it’s a Class V Containment Suit, whatever that means, but I don’t think it would fit under anything tight,” she said. “I didn’t know if you’d want it.”

  Spin took it and admired the smooth, stretchy fabric. Her computer linked with it and extended the range of its sensors, picking up multiple built in devices. “I think you already know me, Della,” she said, opening it and slipping it on with her help. A display on the thigh asked her what colour she wanted it to be and she pondered.

  “You always looked good in purple,” Della said, and Mirra elbowed her.

  “That’s her master’s house colour.”

  “Oh, then not purple, sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Aspen said. She was sure that if she wasn’t medicated she would have been irritated, but that emotion seemed so far away. “I’ve always liked blue skies, and water.” The suit changed to sky blue then fitted to her shape comfortably. “I wore a consuit for over a year, but not one this well made.”

  “A containment suit for the rich,” Mirra said.

  “You’re right, it was from Lady Supta’s cabin, not the crew quarters. What I found there was pretty boring compared to this, and they said they were Class E anyway. Class V is better?”

  “Class V is better,” Aspen said, nodding and flexing her fingers. The gloves conformed to her digits perfectly. “Thank you.”

  “Tell me you found something for her to put on over it?” Mirra said, putting her similar suit on. She finished shimmying her shoulders into her own suit then activated it. “Unless you like showing off, drawing a little attention.”

  “Not on most days.” Aspen had seen spacers wearing much tighter, more revealing suits, but she admitted she’d rather have more. Besides, there was only a small pocket on her hip for storage, not nearly enough.

  “I knew that would be a problem,” Della said. “I have this white jacket, a heavy black one, and a black chromatic one with buckles down the front.”

  “Do any of them have armour built in?” Aspen asked, taking the chromatic jacket from Della. The heavy cloth base felt like it was rubberized, and it was jet black beneath the chromium treatment, which was a layer of colour that shifted as it moved. The label said ray refracting coating had been applied.

  “Well, no, none of the jackets I did had an armour rating tag. I only checked a few places though.”

  Spin held the jacket up to the light. “That’s okay, I think this looks right for me, and I’ve seen this treatment before,” she said. “Some mercenaries add it to their armour so they’re pretty much stun-proof and energy weapons aren’t as effective. She put it on and liked the significant weight it put on her shoulders, the cloth was so heavy it felt like she was being held. Another tag on the inside boasted that there were more layers available for installation and she hoped she could find a place that still had them.

  “It looks good on you,” Mirra said.

  “Okay, now I laughed when I saw these too, but give it a minute,” Della said, reaching down beside the bed. She yanked up a pair of black thigh-high boots with thin, black armour plates along the front. Aspen laughed at them as soon as she saw them, shaking her head. “No way!”

  Mirra laughed as well, crossing the room and touching them, looking like an entirely different person in her fitted, glossy green jumpsuit. “Oh, no, you have to wear these,” she said. “You’re a kick-ass lady, and these are a kick-ass lady’s boots.”

  “How do you even put those on? It looks like they stand on their own,” she laughed.

  Mirra pushed her onto the bed and said; “You lay down.”

  Della handed the right one to Aspen, who pulled it up over the leg of her containment suit. As soon as her foot was planted all the way inside, the boot conformed to her leg, shortening so the top ended in the middle of her thigh and hugged the rest of her leg. Her foot felt snugly planted, as though the boot was already broken in just right. Without a word, she pulled the other one on and smiled as she got to her feet. “They feel too nice.”

  “There are extra straps here for something,” Della said, tugging at the inside of the top of her boot.

  Spin looked at them and realized what they were for. “You can strap a gun holster or tool pocket to the outside of each boot.”

  “You’ve gotta keep them now,” Mirra said, pulling her in front of the mirror. “You look way too badass.”

  Della ran her hand down the front of Aspen’s consuit until it was open down to the naval. “Better.”

  Spin blushed and closed it back up until it was still open a little, but modestly. “There.”

 
“What are your plans for the ship?” Mirra asked.

  “I don’t know if I’m keeping it,” Aspen said. She was thankful her head was clear. Trusting them aboard was a risk she started taking when she was still half out of her mind. Trusting them with more information than she had to was another kind of trust entirely. “The Fleet Feather is so conspicuous, I don’t think I could go anywhere in the sector without being recognized. Why do you ask?”

  “I’ve been a ship hand before,” Mirra said. “And I did time in a galley on an old cargo hauler. I mean, I can’t fix your reactor, but I know how to turn a wrench, and I’ll be running for a while anyway. That, and I was wondering if we’re dressing you for a tea party – in which case we have to start over – or if you’re planning to do more, ahem, business. I mean, you took to kidnapping like a fish to water.”

  “I’ve seen a few from the other end,” Aspen explained.

  “I’d sign up for this ship,” Della added. “Even if you just need someone to keep it clean.”

  “We’ll see if I still have a ship in a few days,” Aspen said. “But you’re right, there’s more business coming. I think I’m dressed for it.”

  Della handed her the pilot’s gun, she’d found the holster and put the two together. There was a strap with six clips in it. Aspen hadn’t even realized that she’d lost track of her weapon. “You’re going to need this. I wish I was good in a fight, or could fly a ship, or even shoot a gun, but I’m pretty useless when you look at it. I can clean though, and take care of people.”

  “That’s the kind of thing that makes a ship feel like a home,” Aspen said, trying to adjust the straps at the top of her boot so they made loops that would hold clips along the front. Mirra helped, providing the third hand she was missing. “She can cook like a gourmet droid, make something out of three pieces of nothing.”

  “Shush, you’ll raise expectations,” Della said as she took Aspen’s jacket and found the right way to hang the gun holster inside it. “I promise I’ll never give you a reason to point that at me again,” she said as she put the jacket back on Aspen. The gun wasn’t so weighty that it felt off balance, and it only took her a moment to adjust to it hanging under her shoulder. She faintly wished she had something else, a weapon that didn’t kill the person she loved more than anything in the universe, but it was an intimidating weapon.

  “I really hope that’s true,” Aspen said. “But you may be safer going off on your own after you get paid. This ship is already wanted, and I’m positive that I’m headed into another dangerous situation. Just think about it, I appreciate your offer to help, and if I end up with a ship to call my own at the end of this, I’ll need people just like you, but the danger is very real. I don’t want you to follow me into something you can’t handle because you thought you owed me.” She recalled a moment where she considered spacing them and felt a dull pang of guilt. “You would have ended up with a head start one way or another. How you decide to use your freedom is up to you, and I’d love it if you joined me on a ship, but it probably won’t be this one, and I know I’m dangerous to be around. They enslave or execute outlaws here, and that’s what I am now.”

  “We know,” Della said. “For the right reasons.”

  “What she said,” Mirra added. “Now let’s see what else we can find aboard.”

  “We split platinum so I get seventy percent, you two split the rest,” Aspen said.

  “What? But…” Della said.

  “That’s how captains do it,” Mirra said. “Most actually take between eighty or ninety-five, because of the cost of maintaining the ship and the responsibility they shoulder.”

  “Oh, that makes sense.”

  “Besides, we’re going to find a lot of plat,” Mirra said. “There was a lot of heavy luggage delivered ahead of us.”

  “We should start piling valuables and staples in the main hold too,” Aspen said. “We need to know how much loose items of value and food we have. The galley is always stocked on this old bird before long trips, so I’ll check that with a quick look.”

  “Can I go clothes hunting while we do this?” Della asked.

  “Sure,” Aspen said. “We’re on an eleven-hour jump, then at least one more after that. I’m just hoping the Rinnel family pays up. I only have three thousand credits in my personal account. I can’t cover your shares from the ransom attempt on that.”

  “I haven’t been allowed to have a bank account for seven years,” Della said.

  “What she said,” Mirra added.

  “Okay, you two get started, I’m going to plan our next jump,” said.

  So the looting began while Aspen made sure the galley was stocked and was satisfied that every cupboard and dispenser was full, then returned to the cockpit, averting her eyes from the sheet against the rear bulkhead.

  It only took her a few minutes to find where Sun and the three other crewmembers were brought, and it wasn’t where she’d hoped. They were working in a fungus yard on Tullast, skimming food from a swampy plantation as it rose to the surface – if you could call that protein scum food.

  She’d visited the prettier sides of Tullast with the Countess when she and Larken were young teenagers. The beaches and springs there were beautiful, and they had a lot of carefree time while the Countess attended to other business.

  Spin returned to the matter at hand. The rescue was problematic. The ground was soft, so she’d have to carefully hover so people could get on, but she wouldn’t know where her friends were until she got within ten kilometres so she could scan for their biometrics readings. A hard scan like that would raise suspicion, so she needed someone to make some noise. The only thing she could think of was putting Della and Mirra in two of the five gun turrets and using one of the forward missile launchers to blow something up. It was risky, she had no idea if either of them could shoot, and would risk setting a processing tank off if she fired a missile anywhere but the swampy open fungus pit, and that’s where her friends would most likely be.

  The plan looked ugly no matter how she approached it. She wished she could just set the Fleet Feather down and pretend she was about the Countess’ business, but there was a fair chance that someone sent a message to Tullast, telling the foremen there to expect a breakout attempt.

  She left the cockpit and made her way to the rear hold, deciding on a plan by the time she got there. “Okay, I’m going to need your help to pull this off.” She said, then stopped at the sight of racks of clothing, cases of fine bottles with even finer liquids inside, and three metal bullion cases.

  “These are full,” Della said, tossing a glittering rectangle of platinum at her. It glittered in her hand, the serial number and UCA stamped along with the denomination – 1,000 – in industrial grade blue diamonds. “Fifty thousand molecularly stamped platinum in each case in large denominations. That piece isn’t from the cases.”

  “It’s from some of the loose plat we found, about seventeen thousand worth from the luggage. There’s also another twenty-eight thousand from our old master’s personal safe,” Mirra said, smiling as much as Della.

  “You guys keep that,” said, in awe of the cash they’d found and how organized everything else was. “We’ll split the cased and loose stuff the way we discussed if that’s all right.”

  “You’re going to have to stop asking us if it’s all right,” Della said. “If you’re going to be a captain.”

  “I’m not a captain, I’ve pirated a ship and technically stolen two slaves that I’ll be setting free. I’m an escaped slave whose devalued because her mated partner is dead, and an outlaw for theft and kidnapping. When someone checks the Stellarnet for the definition of ‘trouble’ in the future, there will be a picture of me.”

  “We’re going to be hard to get rid of,” Mirra said. “If this is the kind of trouble you get into, I think I want to get involved, at least for a while.”

  “We’ll see.” Aspen ran her hands down one of the clothing racks and shook her head. “You did this in the h
our I was in the cockpit. I can’t believe it. I also expected to find a mountain of clothing and other loot just dumped in the cargo bay, that’s how most quick looting jobs go.”

  “We’re better at quickies, I guess,” Della said.

  “So, where are we going to sell our booty?” Mirra asked.

  “Well, we’re going to get ready to take on some passengers’ tomorrow, so we’ll have to lock it up once you two are finished taking your pick of clothes. Then, well, I know a few places that should buy most of this stuff. Maybe, it’s dangerous. We’re going to have bounties on our heads, slave hunters might already be looking for us. Anyway, dig in.”

  Mirra and Della stood and eagerly began rifling through the clothing racks, leaving Spin to turn the platinum chip over in her hand. It was the most valued currency in the galaxy, and she had enough to buy a lightly armed ship that could take a small crew on her own. That wasn’t something she could do legitimately though, she was registered as a slave, so she couldn’t purchase anything legally. As an alternative, she could try to run carrying thousands in raw currency on her back. No. If she managed to rescue her friends, she would figure out her next move.

  Either the medication wasn’t working, or her desire to raid and pillage the Countess’ business interests wasn’t just a part of her desire for revenge, it was the best option she had. She looked to the pair of women who were enjoying their taste of freedom. Mirra was putting a short, white miniskirt on over her thin green consuit. She looked up at her, smiling, it may have been the best time she’d had in years. Spin nodded and smiled back. “That works for you,” she said.

  “There’s a top, too,” Della said, putting a loose fitting tank top on her friend.

  Spin didn’t have a problem risking her life saving her friends, but she didn’t know if she could live with herself if she led those two into a situation where they lost theirs. She caught her reflection in the platinum rectangle in her hand and saw as much of Larken in her appearance as her own. “Did you find any hair colour stuff?” she asked.