by Jake Bible
16.
The GS M’illi’ped was the size of a small moon. Sno had been on stations that were smaller than the luxury liner. Yet Sno knew that the occupancy of the M’illi’ped would be a fraction of a typical galactic cruise. Exclusivity made sure of that.
Ships of various makes and models swarmed the M’illi’ped as passengers were dropped off by their travel services and private pilots. Sno had to tamp down his annoyance and anger at the show of wealth that zipped in and out of each other’s flight paths. A good fifty percent of the ships were worth more than Sno’s GF pension. Even with his inherited wealth, it was hard for Sno not to be disgusted at the gaudy displays that most of the ships were meant to be.
Then a ship caught his eye. A swift ship, needle-shaped and fast, threaded through the clogged spaceways and found an open port to dock in. Sno knew that swift ship.
“Ledora? Log that ship now,” Sno ordered.
“I am afraid I cannot, Agent Prime,” Ledora replied. “While I can maintain comms with you during your journey to the GS M’illi’ped, I cannot access mainframe capabilities due to the security on this ship and the security on the GS M’illi’ped.”
“No one wants an AI protocol snooping about while they are on vacation,” Pol said. “I checked. Once we board, Ledora will disconnect from you.”
“No AIs at all?” Sno asked, surprised.
“It’s a new trend,” Veben said, looking bored. “Traveling raw, is what it’s called. Only the captain and his command crew have access to AIs. The passengers are on their own. Other than comms and wrist holos, all implants will be made inoperative as well.”
“And you’re only telling me this now because…?” Sno wasn’t mad, simply puzzled.
“I thought perhaps I could find an end around,” Pol said and shrugged. “I can, but if anyone takes a look, they’ll find the code and track the source to me. The M’illi’ped is a contained system, in and of itself. The AIs that actually run the ship for the captain and command crew are top of the line. I am impressed. And it takes a lot to impress me.”
“I would think this is good news, love,” Veben said. “I thought it was. Even playing field is the expression, yes?”
“You two have already discussed this topic,” Sno stated.
“You can’t call it pillow talk unless you have something to talk about,” Veben said with a smile.
“Of course,” Sno replied as the ship angled sharply for its approach to an open port in the belly of the GS M’illi’ped. “Looks like we’re docking now.”
“Delightful,” Veben said and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I am going to freshen up for our entrance.”
Sno and Pol watched her make her way to the lavatory. Then they fixed eyes with each other.
“You are worried I’ll make this journey difficult for you,” Pol stated and held up a hand. “Don’t deny it. I can see the worry all over your face.”
“Good,” Sno said. “Because I’m not denying it. In fact, Pol, I want you to know that my instincts are not happy with this mission. Too many issues that scream danger.”
“You have a dangerous job, Sno,” Pol said. “I would think this is routine for you by now.”
“For me, yes,” Sno said and pointed his chin at the lavatory. “For Veben? No. She is not an agent, Pol.”
“She has more experience with these matters than you think, Sno,” Pol said. “Give the woman some credit.”
“I give her plenty,” Sno said. “But my problem is not how experienced she is. My problem is that I do not know who I will choose if a situation presents itself where both of you are in danger at the same time. My mission is you, my loyalty is to the SSD, but my life and personal feelings are wrapped up with Veben.”
“You’ll do what you need to do when you need to do it, Agent Prime,” Pol said, his voice losing the nonchalance that had been present since Sno met the man. “What I am worth to the Galactic Fleet is more valuable than all of our lives combined. I’m not one to pick sides, but if the Skrang get ahold of the tech I have developed, then this galaxy will not only be plunged back into war, that war will be over within days, not decades. And the Skrang will rule everything. I’d be lying if I said I was a GF patriot through and through. But being a forced subject of the Skrang Alliance would be considerably worse.”
Sno took a deep breath and nodded. The ship was almost inside the docking port and a vast shadow had enveloped them. Sno’s guts clenched as he felt like he was being swallowed whole. There was more than metaphor to that feeling.
“Goodbye, Agent Prime,” Ledora said over the comm. “Good luck. I will be available once your journey has ended.”
There was no physical sensation to Ledora’s departure, but Sno felt the emptiness anyway.
“Docked,” the pilot’s voice announced. “Thank you for flying with me. It was my honor.”
“The honor was ours,” Veben said as she returned from the lavatory. “Gentlemen? Shall we disembark?”
“We shall,” Pol said, standing and taking her hand.
“Love?” Veben asked Sno.
“I exit first,” Sno said. “Make sure our trip doesn’t start off with a bang.”
“Here’s hoping it ends with one,” Veben said and gave Pol’s butt a hard pinch.
He jumped and swatted her butt. Sno groaned as he stood and walked to the exit hatch.
The hatch opened and instead of the ship’s stairs descending, an elaborately carved set of wood stairs were waiting outside the ship. Sno knew with one glance that the wood was real and not synthetic, having been carved from a species that was more than a millennia extinct.
“Mr. Shaw. Welcome,” a uniformed porter said from the bottom of the stairs. He was human with a bright purple complexion. “I believe you traveled with a Ms. C’alpescue and a Mr. Talpic, yes?”
“They’re behind me,” Sno said as he walked down the stairs and shook the porter’s offered hand.
“Hello!” Veben announced as she walked out of the ship with Pol. “Oh, aren’t you cute as a button.”
“My name is Osol,” the porter said, bowing at the waist until Veben and Pol were down the stairs and standing next to Sno. “I have been assigned to assist you with any needs that you may have. Please, do not hesitate to ask. I am here to make your travels with us as pleasant as can be.”
“Only one porter?” Pol snapped. “Mr. Shaw isn’t living with us, you know. We only traveled together because of convenience.”
“Oh, dear one, I believe Mr. Osol will be sufficient,” Veben said. “I mean, how much assistance will we need while in bed?”
“Osol, ma’am,” Osol said. “No need to add the mister. That is a prefix for our guests, not for the ship’s crew.”
“How humble,” Veben said and leaned in to give Osol a kiss on his cheek. The man blushed brightly, surprised by the gesture. “Osol, I hereby decree that you shall attend to Mr. Shaw’s needs for this trip. That is your priority. If Mr. Talpic and I find ourselves in need of assistance, we will call you. How does that sound?”
“If those are your wishes, Ms. C’alpescue, then that sounds perfect,” Osol replied. He gestured to a small roller that was being loaded with their luggage by several bots. “The ship is vast, so we will need to take a roller, if that is alright with the three of you. If not, then I can arrange moltrans delivery directly into your respective staterooms.”
“Oh, I’d love to see your moltrans tech,” Pol said.
“The roller is fine,” Sno interjected as Osol began to respond to Pol. “Moltrans within a vessel like this makes me nervous.”
“Oh, there is nothing to be nervous about, sir,” Osol said. “Our systems are state of the art. If it is cutting edge, and deemed one hundred percent safe, then the GS M’illi’ped is outfitted with it.”
“Is that so?” Pol asked.
Sno gave him a side look that could only be interpreted as, “Shut the Hells up.”
Osol showed Veben to her seat in the roller then wai
ted for Pol and Sno to take their seats before he sat down in the driver’s seat and piloted the roller away from the service ship and onto a laneway that cut through the network of docking ports that filled the underbelly of the GS M’illi’ped.
“May I give you a history of the GS M’illi’ped while we make our way to your staterooms?” Osol asked.
Another roller came up beside them, the driver giving a quick beep of the horn, then swerved off away on a different path. Sno studied the roller’s occupants carefully, but the Spilfleck couple in the back gave Sno zero notice. A lizard race with large neck frills that extended when excited, the Spilflecks were too busy being amorous to pay attention to their surroundings.
“How cute,” Veben said as the roller disappeared through a large hatch.
“Public displays are common on the GS M’illi’ped,” Osol said. “However, decorum does suggest that they be kept discrete. Some beings are not comfortable with outward showings of affection.”
“Their loss,” Veben said and patted Osol on the shoulder. “Please continue with our history lesson, Osol.”
“Of course, Ms. C’alpescue,” Osol said. “The GS M’illi’ped is four kilometers long by one kilometer wide and two high. Certainly not the largest luxury liner in use today, but we like to think that service, not size, is what distinguishes the Mip.”
“The Mip?” Veben asked.
“That is our nickname for the ship, ma’am,” Osol said.
Sno didn’t pay attention to the rest of the history lesson that Osol gave as they traveled towards a massive lift set against the far wall of the docking port bay. Osol stated a litany of names that Sno didn’t care about, something to do with the rich history of travelers that the Mip had catered to over the centuries. Sno’s attention was on the faces of the guests that filled the backs of rollers heading in the same direction as theirs.
He was looking for a very specific face. A face that would go with the swift ship he watched dock earlier. But all Sno saw were beings whose faces had had more repairs and work done than the ships they had disembarked from. Sno was quickly reminded why he ran from the world he grew up in the second he was old enough to leave. The beings filling the backseats of the various rollers moving about the docking port bay turned his stomach.
“And then our beloved Mip was purchased by the Doq Corporation where it was refurbished and turned into the elegant vehicle it is today,” Osol said.
“Isn’t that lovely,” Veben said. “Mr. Shaw? Don’t you think that is a lovely history? So full of adventure and intrigue. Who knew a luxury liner could have such a storied past?”
Everyone waited. Sno slowly made eye contact with Veben and realized she’d addressed him.
“Yes. Fascinating,” Sno replied.
The roller entered the large lift and waited as three others joined it. The lift doors closed and soft music began to play as the lift ascended to each roller’s deck of destination. Sno studied and logged the faces of the beings in the other rollers, but didn’t attempt to greet or communicate with any of them.
On the other hand, Veben was Veben and struck up a conversation with nearly every other passenger. Pol simply sat back and let Veben work, his face beaming at her with affection and desire. Sno realized the look on Pol’s face was not part of the act. Veben had worked her magic and the master of dark tech was smitten.
Veben had been right, Sno needed her on the trip if for that reason alone. Cover or not, Veben was an asset when it came to handling Pol. She would make sure he was watched every hour of every day while also keeping him from being Pol Hammon instead of Mahjul Talpic.
Their roller was the last to leave the lift.
“Your staterooms are adjoining,” Osol said with a hint of hesitation in his voice. “I do hope that is not a problem for you. It was our understanding here on the Mip that you were traveling together. If we were mistaken, then I am sure other accommodations can be arranged.”
“We have mutual business interests,” Veben said. “Being in close proximity will allow us to conduct business efficiently which then allows us time for more…pleasurable endeavors.”
“Always with the business,” Pol said.
“Adjoining staterooms is fine as long as they can be individually secured,” Sno said.
“Oh, of course, Mr. Shaw,” Osol said as he drove the roller down a wide corridor and stopped directly in front of two doors facing each other. “As you can see, the staterooms are on opposite sides of the corridor with a service hall as the connector between. The hatches to the service hall can be biometrically locked so only the guest of each stateroom may open their respective hatch.”
“You have thought of everything, Osol,” Veben said.
“Thank you, ma’am, we try,” Osol replied as he stepped out of the roller and offered Veben his hand.
She took the offered hand and was helped from the vehicle with Pol next followed by Sno. Bots appeared from small hatches in the walls and fetched the luggage, dividing the bags according to which stateroom they were for.
“Our service automatons are at your beck and call,” Osol said. “As am I.”
He waved his wrist in front of all three and their wrists chimed as his personal comm signature was registered.
“Say my name and I will answer promptly,” Osol said.
“What? Don’t you sleep?” Pol asked.
“Only when I’m not on duty, sir,” Osol said with a short bow. He straightened and gestured to each door as they were opened by the bots. “Please enjoy your stay. You will have several hours to freshen up, rest, and explore the ship before dinner service begins.”
He swiped at his wrist and a holo was projected into the air.
“Let’s see here,” Osol said as he manipulated the holo image. “Here we are. Oh, you are scheduled to dine with the captain tomorrow evening. That is perfect. I always feel sorry for guests that dine the first evening. The captain is so busy the first day that those guests do not always get to hear his best stories. And the captain has so many great stories to tell.”
“We look forward to hearing them all,” Veben said and took Pol by the arm. “Darling? Shall we?”
“We shall,” Pol said and the two followed the last service bot into their stateroom.
Veben gave Sno a quick wave before the doors slid closed, leaving Sno alone with Osol in the corridor.
“How much access to other guests do you have, Osol?” Sno asked.
“Access, sir?” Osol replied, trying to look confused. Sno saw through the rouse.
“Access, Osol,” Sno said. “If I were looking for the pilot of a swift ship, how would I go about finding her or him?”
“Does this pilot have a name, sir?”
“Velly Tarcorf,” Sno said.
“Hmm,” Osol responded as he brought up a new holo. “I do not see that name in the manifest, but I can do some research and get back to you within the hour. Will that be acceptable, sir?”
“I’d appreciate that,” Sno said.
Sno began to open his mouth to say more, but Osol waved him off.
“No explanation needed, sir,” Osol said. “Far from the first time this has been asked of me. I will do my best to obtain the information you desire, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, Osol, thank you,” Sno said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out five shiny chits. “For your trouble.”
“I cannot take those, sir,” Osol said, his eyes studying the chits. “Against policy. All gratuities are split amongst the crew and staff at the end of each cruise, sir. You are welcome to place those in the appropriate envelope which you will find in the top left drawer of your room’s desk.”
“I could do that,” Sno said and took Osol’s hand, placing the chits in his palm. “Or I can give these to you now. That way we understand our relationship the rest of this trip.”
“It is good to understand relationships, sir,” Osol said without a word of further protest. The chits disappeared into
his pants pocket. “If you need any additional help beyond what you have already requested, do not hesitate to ask.”
“I won’t, Osol,” Sno said and nodded at the porter. “If you could write down what you find out about Ms. Tarcorf and deliver it to me directly, that would be great. I do not trust internal comms like you have on this ship.”
“Wise, sir,” Osol said and bowed once more before climbing into the roller. “I’ll return with the handwritten information within the hour, sir.”
Osol turned the roller around with a deftness of skill that impressed Sno. Sno watched the roller move down the corridor and waited until it was back on the lift and gone before he walked into his stateroom.
The punch to the side of his head came the second he stepped over the threshold.
17.
Dazed, Sno went for the Keplar knife on the back of his belt, but a second blow, this time to the throat, took Sno’s mind off retrieving a weapon and instantly on how to continue breathing.
Sno gasped and choked, but managed to jump back as a third strike came for him. It was instinct that told him where the third strike would be aimed for, not a visual confirmation. As far as Sno could see, there was no one else in the stateroom.
His attacker was invisible.
Still struggling to take in a full breath, Sno let his focus relax. He concentrated on watching for visual anomalies using the edge of his vision instead of trying to see the attacker straight on. If the person was using cloaking tech, then there would be a tell-tale shimmer to the air. Nothing and no one could be perfectly invisible. Physics had a lot to say on that subject.
Pain exploded in Sno’s left side and he looked down to see the barest outline of a fist being pulled away from his body. Sno followed that fist and struck high, aiming for a spot about half a meter up and to the right. Someone grunted and Sno smiled internally with satisfaction. Then his head rocked back as his nose was shattered.
Sno stumbled a few feet then scrambled over a chair that was set in the center of the room as part of a sitting ensemble meant for entertaining guests. Knowing what he knew of luxury liners, the furniture was for non-important guests. A more intimate space was reserved behind one of the many doors that lined the main entry of the stateroom.