Wrecker's Moon

by Patrick McClafferty

  “Computer.” She snapped at her AI, staring at the doorway, and highlighting it with her targeting carat. Soft yellow light shone from inside a small airlock. “What just happened?”

  “Recognition circuitry in the craft allowed you entry.”

  “But…but…” Kelsoe swallowed, knowing that the AI didn’t have the answers she needed. She stepped up the ramp, ducking her head into the small airlock. Behind her the opening in the hull flowed closed, and the hiss in her external speakers said the airlock was pressurizing. A small light over the door turned from red to green and she pushed the door open. Again there was that tingle in her hand.

  Artificial gravity kept the deck down rather than tilted at an angle as Kelsoe entered the small bridge on the top deck of the saucer. There were four seats facing a wide curved view screen. Only one of the seats was occupied. The man was tall and well-muscled, Kelsoe noted in a distant part of her mind, and wore the black shipsuit with star flashes of the Staarkand Fleet. His hair was shot with grey, as was his skin. Blood ran freely from where the crystal shard had pierced the ship’s hull and continued on through his chest and the chair behind him. She could see the bloody bubbles on his lips, and was surprised his chest was still moving. Taking her cutter out, she slowly and carefully cut the spine that had pierced him. The man groaned, and opened eyes that were as grey as hers. Kelsoe ignored him for the moment as she clambered up on the control console and reaching up squeezed a thick sealant around the edges of the spine. The hissing from air loss dropped noticeably, but Kelsoe knew that eventually she would have to go out on the hull to finish even a temporary job. Her HUD flickered to life to show her that air pressure in the saucer was now at minimum survivable levels and rising. Reaching up, she unlatched and removed her helmet, dropping her gloves into it as she set it aside for the moment. The air in the ship smelled fresh, with just a hint of pine trees. A sudden gurgling gasp from the spacer made her turn to find him staring at her, wide eyed. The man reached up a bloody hand and very slowly touched her cheek. Kelsoe stood frozen in shock when the dying man did the last thing she could ever imagine; he smiled…as a look of peace crossed his face. Removing his hand from her cheek, he reached out, took her bare hand and placed it on the clear control ball built into the arm of his command chair, and then placed his hand on the top of hers. She felt a small sting in the back of her hand, where his hand covered hers but ignored it.

  “Transfer of command accepted.” A female voice in the lower contralto ranges said softly, and just a bit sadly from the air. “Welcome to the Fleet Survey Ship Wyvern, Captain.”

  Turning her attention back to the spacer, she was surprised to see tears in his eyes. “Kelsoe…” He managed to whisper, once, before the light faded out of his eyes and his hand dropped away from hers. The man was dead.

  Kelsoe didn’t know how long she stood like that, staring at the dead man who had known her name. Finally she blinked back her own tears, and swallowed. “Computer,” she said, addressing the ship, “ship status.”

  “The hull has been breached, Captain.” Kelsoe stifled a snicker. No duh! “If you could remove the spine that pierced the upper dome and install a temporary patch, repair nanites will complete the repairs and have the Wyvern spaceworthy within forty eight hours. Other damage to the hull and deflector systems is minimal. Do you wish a distress beacon launched?”

  “Ahhh, no.” She replied, thinking quickly. “I can’t go around calling you AI or computer. Do you have a name?”

  “The former Captain Smith called me Mia.”

  Kelsoe blinked. She knew that Smith was a very common name among spacers, so it must just be a wild coincidence that she’d heard the name before. Putting those questions in the back of her mind, she took out her cutter again, and began the grisly task of removing the dead pilot from his seat. As she slowly withdrew the shard of crystal from the dead man’s chest, a sparkle amidst the blood and gore drew her attention. The former Captain Smith had been wearing a cunningly crafted medallion under his shipsuit that barely missed getting crushed and driven through his chest by the crystal spine. Giving in to a strange attraction, Kelsoe drew the medallion up and over the dead man’s head, and wiped the worst of the blood away with a rag. It should have given her the screaming willies when she drew the still somewhat bloody medallion over her own head, but it didn’t. Her grey eyes, now almost sapphire blue tried to follow the twists and loops of the medallion but failed, leaving Kelsoe with the feeling that she was falling into those convoluted coils. Shrugging, she tucked the medallion beneath her own undershirt. “Mia, is there someplace where I could leave Captain Smith’s…”

  “Body?” The computer added helpfully. “I will give him a proper burial in the surface of this dusty little moon. Aarlan would appreciate spending eternity watching the majestic wheel of the stars overhead. Except for his wife and child, he always did love the stars more than people.

  “That will be fine.” Kelsoe replied, picking up and donning her gloves and helmet while wondering just where she’d heard the name Aarlan Smith before. “I’ll go out, remove the spine and repair the hull as best I can. I have to leave for a while, but I’ll be back.”

  “The ship will be ready for your return, Captain.”

  “Thank you Mia.” Kelsoe murmured, wondering to herself why it felt like the weight of the world had suddenly settled on her shoulders. She frowned. “AI, what is the status of the other wreckers?”

  “The other wreckers are attempting to gain entry into the crashed equipment transport.” Her HUD tactical display shot a red line out into the distance.

  “What about the troop carrier?”

  “They are ignoring that for the moment. An attempt was made by the wreckers to enter the transport, but it was repulsed by the survivors. It seems that more than a thousand military personnel survived the impact and the wreckers will simply let them run out of air and suffocate or freeze.”

  Kelsoe cursed under her breath, and put a hand on the saucer hull. “Mia, can you hear me?”

  “I can hear you Captain.” She heard inside her suit.

  “Can you send a tight FTL beam to Fleet, informing them that there has been a crash and that there are survivors?”

  “I can do that, but unlike larger units on Wecarro, the communication will not be instantaneous.”

  Kelsoe took a deep breath. “Please do so.”

  “Transmission sent. I should probably inform you that part of the Staarkand Fleet, Task Force Seven, some twenty seven ships I believe, is currently on exercises in quadrant Delta Alpha, and will probably be here within four standard days.”

  Kelsoe felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh shit, what have I done? I’ve got to go.” She groaned, climbing up on the slanted hull and heading for the crystal shard that pinned the Wyvern like an insect to a collecting board.

  G’Fleuf was waiting for her when she opened the door to the ship, and staggered in. His nimble tentacles helped her undo the suit catches while Kelsoe peeled various pieces off her sticky skin, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Twenty hours in an EVA suit left even the most fastidious wearer smelling like a locker room after a pro football game. He waited patiently until she returned from the shower and sat down with a hot cup of klah. “Well?” He asked finally. “I don’t see any pieces parts.”

  Kelsoe sipped and didn’t bother to open her eyes. “The ship will be ready to leave in twenty four to forty eight hours.” She yawned.

  The golden eyes blinked in surprised. “How did you manage that trick?”

  By way of an answer, Kelsoe pulled the silver medallion out from beneath her bathrobe, holding it up so that it sparkled in the overhead lights. The color had been a pewter grey and coated with the blood of its former owner when she put it over her head, but when she stripped off her clothes to shower the silver medallion was as bright and shiny as new. The blood had vanished, as if by magic. “The pilot was wearing this.” She turned to look at the small Drugud, to find him standing frozen, starin
g at the medallion. His grey leathery skin was the color of chalk. “G’Fleuf?” She asked in concern. “Are you all right?”

  He padded slowly around her, his eyes never leaving her medallion until he came to a slightly indented spot in the wall, where he touched five of his tentacles to five different spots. Kelsoe heard a sharp click, and a one foot square door swung open to reveal a cunningly concealed safe. From this repository G’Fluef withdrew a medallion the twin of the one in Kelsoe’s hand. “This medallion,” he said in a very small voice, “belonged to your mother, Kelsoe. She was the Lady Lydia Smith, wife of the Primus of the Staarkand Empire, Aarlan Theodosius Smith, your father.” He looked down at the medallion twined in his tentacle. “You see how bright and shiny the medallion is?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “This is keyed to the Smith DNA. As long as one wearer is alive both will remain bright. If both die, the two medallions will turn the color of lead.” He held the medallion up. “I always hoped that one day your father would find you, but it was too late.”

  Kelsoe blinked away a tear, fighting a wave of unfamiliar emotions that threatened to strangle her. “It wasn’t too late, G’Fleuf. He recognized me before the end, and he said my name.” She swallowed, her throat thick as she saw the dying man’s smile in her mind’s eye. Her father. “He turned the ship over to me.” She put the medallion back around her neck, and drained the last of her klah. “Now, my friend, I think that you have a story to tell me.” She finished in a hard voice.

  Chapter 3

  HISTORY LESSON

  “You can begin by explaining why, for the last fifteen years you’ve lied to me; told me that my mother was a…working girl. A whore. Why didn’t you tell me who she really was, what my real name was?” Her voice rose an octave. “I deserved to know.”

  G’Fluef put his medallion away and shut the safe with a sharp snap, then turned to look at Kelsoe. “I have been a retainer to your family for more years than I can comfortably count.” The small creature began, draping his tentacles over the back and arms of the slightly battered sofa as he sank into the couch beside her. “The year of 8371 was a cataclysmic year for the family Smith. The Arakhamiahe Insurgents were threatening to tear the Empire apart, and assassins stalked the streets of the capital in droves, hiring themselves out to the highest bidder. Your mother was pregnant with you at the time, and she and your father decided that it would be safer with you both on another world. A trusted aid of your family sold the information to the Insurgents, who in turn contacted the swine on the Wrecker’s Moon since your mother’s ship would be passing that way and using that particular jump node. You, you mother and I survived the crash, amazingly enough. Your mother’s cousin, Dareen Trikellien, another very pregnant young woman and a close friend of Lydia, died in the crash along with her unborn child. Before the wreckers could arrive your mother and I concocted a story in which your mother was my servant, and with my assistance took the identity of the unfortunate Dareen.” The small creature’s tentacles were quivering with emotion. “Your mother is the one who suggested that I take you as soon as you were born. A brilliant woman, she guessed what her fate would be, and didn’t want that same fate for you. She is the one that had me promise not to tell you until you turned sixteen.” His tentacles sagged, and he looked at the floor. “She lasted for two years after you were born, and was only able to visit you once. A drunken wrecker beat her to death in a whorehouse down on level eight.” Amazingly, the tinny voice from the small speaker around G’Fluef’s neck managed to sound both bitter and angry. He took a deep breath, and reached out a small tentacle to touch Kelsoe’s shoulder. She flinched involuntarily. “Are you all right, Kelsoe?” He asked in a soft sympathetic voice.

  Wiping her eyes with the edge of her bathrobe, the young woman glared at him with red eyes. “In the course of a single day I’ve gained a family, lost a family, gained a new last name, and now I have to abandon the only home I’ve ever known. Hell no, I’m not all right!!” With a single swift motion she heaved her cup across the room, where it bounced off the far wall, taking a chip out of the paint, and clattering to the floor. She glared. Unbreakable, the cup hadn’t even given her the satisfaction of a resounding crash into a million pieces.

  “Why do you think you have to leave your home, at this exact moment, Kelsoe?” There was a new wariness in the small creature at her side.

  She could only sigh. “My AI informed me that there are more than a thousand survivors on the troop carrier. I had the Wyvern send a com to the Staarkand Fleet to let them know about the survivors. It should have taken days for that message to reach Fleet, but it turns out that Task Force Seven is in a nearby quadrant on exercises, and will be here in three days.”

  G’Fleuf sat frozen. “You called Fleet?” He finally whispered in a horrified voice.

  Seeing his look, Kelsoe began to laugh. The whole thing was so insanely preposterous she couldn’t believe it. She was Kelsoe Shaheera Smith, daughter of Primus Aarlan Smith, supreme ruler of the vast Staarkand Empire. She was also Captain of the Fleet Survey Ship Wyvern that was waiting for her just over the horizon. And to top things off, she had called the Fleet to the Wrecker’s Moon. She was laughing so hard she began to get the hiccups. G’Fleuf reached out and touched the back of her bare hand with his tentacle, and jerked it back with a hiss as if he’d been stung.

  Kelsoe swallowed. “What is it?” She asked, frowning. The golden eyes stared at her intently.

  “Nothing.” He replied evasively. “We’ll speak of it later. Right now we need to disable the initiator in the boss’s ship before the Fleet arrives. We don’t have time to switch it with the unit you took from the liner.” He picked up his ever-present blue tool bag. “I’ll meet you in the underground hangar. You know the boss’s escape ship. I’ll meet you there.” Without a further word he turned for the door. If Kelsoe hadn’t known better she would have said that her small alien friend was scared.

  She was exhausted and short tempered when she left the science vessel to follow G’Fleuf. A nagging worry forced her to put the small energy pistol she’d taken from the Queen into her pocket, but not before she’d set the output level to its lowest setting. At that setting it would stun a rhinoceros rather than vaporize him. The nagging worry in the back of her mind subsided somewhat.

  The corridors were especially dark, and empty. “Time?” Kelsoe asked her AI.

  “The time is two fifteen a.m.” The voice replied immediately, also flashing the time in her HUD. She was the only person up and about. Her low boots made her footfalls nearly soundless, and her own tool bag was in her left hand.

  “Target in the dark corridor off to your left!” The voice of her targeting AI warned sharply. Kelsoe jammed her hand into her right pocket just as Kir-Tan TelBareth stepped out of the dark corridor, a heavy military blaster held loosely in his hand and death in his eyes.

  “Well, well, well.” He snarled, gloating. “Look who we have…” Kelsoe shot him through her pocket, the energy bolt striking Tan in the center of his chest and driving him into the far wall of the corridor.

  “If you’re going to shoot, shoot, don’t talk.” She muttered as she picked up Tan’s heavy pistol and dropped it into her tool bag. G’Fluef had taught her that simple philosophy early on, insisting the saying had come from ancient, pre-space human times. Walking quickly down the long corridor, she wondered about the sharp warning she’d heard that saved her life. She growled deep in her throat. When she had plenty of time, there was nothing to do; and when her life was filled to overflowing there never was enough time to sit and think things through. The guard at the entrance of the caverns saw her, grinned and waved her in. She had a moment of near panic when she remembered that weapons of any sort were strictly forbidden in the caverns, and now she had two on her.

  G’Fleuf looked up from the partially disassembled jump drive initiator. “You took your time.”

  Kelsoe grinned sourly. “Tell that to Kir-Tan.”

  “He found you?” The small D
rugud sounded shocked.

  “He’s not likely to forget me either.” She pulled the small pistol from her pocket. “I remembered what you taught me. I didn’t wait for him to finish threatening me when I shot him.” Her laugh was mean. “I took his blaster, so he probably won’t brag about it too much.”

  G’Fleuf shook his head, and his tentacles quivered. “What have I created?”

  Kelsoe studied the initiator for a second, letting the AI in her hip analyze the circuit. It was the only reason she’d let G’Fleuf install it in the first place; as a simple maintenance aid. In reality it had turned into something a little more involved. After studying the results of the analysis for a second, she handed him a long screwdriver. “You created a survivor. If you remove that small panel, reach in and cut the heavy red wire, the initiator will show good on diagnostics, but will burn out dramatically as soon as it is engaged.” She gave him an innocent look. “Would you like me to do it for you?” she asked sweetly. G’Fleuf shot her a disgusted glare. “When the jump drive is engaged,” she continued, “excess power is bled off through the red wire into a parallel damping circuit. With no place for the excess power to go…” She made a motion of an explosion with her hands, and mouthed the word BOOM. G’Fleuf let out a metallic chuckle.

  “You must have gotten it from your mother and father. You certainly didn’t get those bloodthirsty qualities from me.”

  “Riiight.” She replied pleasantly.

  Much later in the morning, after Kelsoe and G’Fleuf had finished working on the boss’s ship, made their way home, and finally gotten several hours of much needed sleep, Kelsoe stood looking at the small pile of personal belongings heaped on her bed that she planned to take when she left. Fifteen years of her life reduced to a few clothes, her PDA and a shoebox of mementos and data crystals. A second box contained the balance of the hyper-electronic circuits salvaged from the Queen, as well as her jump initiator. She felt depressed and alone. Out in the main room G’Fleuf had packed…nothing. He had informed her, in no uncertain words that his place was in the Den. He had failed her mother and father he claimed, and he wouldn’t give himself the opportunity to fail her also. She groaned and turned for the living room wondering idly what she was going to do with G’Fleuf. She knew in her heart that she couldn’t leave him behind.