by Britt Ringel
He would pick up Isett’s container on his way back to Zanshin tonight. The remaining containers were already in space, attached to the commercial orbital’s cargo yard. The transportation fees received by accepting the new jobs amounted to an additional thirty-five thousand credits up front, with another thirty-five thousand payable upon delivery in Vulsia. Lochlain agreed to assume broader risks of transport to generate another thousand credits per container. His credits on hand now totaled seventy-five thousand, more than enough for a deposit with Hanner. Between Brooke’s personal funds and his own, they would be able to cover the remaining balance payable after Zanshin’s rebirth. Paying his crew would likely have to wait until after making deliveries in Vulsia.
Freighter deck officers typically received a double share of the run’s overall profits. Engineering officers received the same. Lochlain hoped that he could negotiate the first cargo runs down to a single share if the crew Isett offered was truly subpar. The savings would go a long way toward keeping up with the normal costs of running a cargo ship. Furthermore, Zanshin would be two dives closer to needing her fuel cells recharged, an extraordinary expense. He had no idea where he would get the money to pay for it. The looming bill made him feel as if he were standing in the path of an onrushing prison transport. Shaking away the dread, Lochlain ignited the shuttle’s atmospheric drive and lifted off toward Warner Bookings.
* * *
He entered the humble storefront twenty minutes later. He was early but he assumed it was better to wait on Hanner than have Hanner waiting on him. The shop, jammed between a secondhand electronics store and a food takeout, was a tiny affair containing just a single desk, a shoddy couch and a couple of chairs for customers. Dated digital posters of Federation vacation hotspots adorned the faded walls. It felt like any other run down, failing business except for the fact that this travel agency was open late at night.
He placed his datapad into sleep mode as he nodded to the receptionist. The man behind the desk acknowledged Lochlain’s nod and asked in a familiar baritone, “May I help you?”
Lochlain smiled amicably. “I’m Reece Lochlain, here to see Mr. Bay.”
The man’s hands dipped below the surface of his desk. Lochlain wondered if a firearm kept company with the security buzzer the man had obviously activated there.
“Please be seated,” the receptionist said while jutting his chin at a chair.
Ten minutes later, a gentleman with light blonde hair appeared from the back. He was rail thin but wore a fine suit. Lochlain recognized the brand as a Vomi-Straers design. They were produced in Kett and were not cheap. The elegant glasses sitting on the bridge of the man’s nose matched the quality of his clothing. The wisp of a man remained near the door and beckoned, “Mr. Lochlain, will you follow me, please?”
The route took Lochlain down a narrow hallway with two security cameras prominently positioned at either end. The setup was a classic chokepoint that put Lochlain on edge. He felt gooseflesh break out over his arms as he recalled Isett’s caution regarding Hanner. The fact that the warning had come from a woman who had, early in her career, fearlessly trafficked Solarian-made weapons into the Brevic Republic star system of Sao did nothing to ease his trepidation.
The pair arrived at the end of the hallway and Bay opened the door. Rather than entering an office, Lochlain found himself walking down a second, much shorter corridor. The new passageway dispelled any pretense of a legitimate business. He passed through a state-of-the-art security arch under the watchful eyes of two sentries. Each man wore a hard ballistics shell over a black jumpsuit. Small, automatic weapons dangled from their chest harnesses. Once Lochlain cleared security, he walked with Bay until coming to the office of Kurtis Hanner. A gentle knock preceded their admittance.
Inside the extravagant office were two additional security guards and Kurtis Hanner himself. Hanner was short, far shorter than any man Lochlain had seen before. He sat on a lavish, custom-built chair behind a desk so enormous Lochlain could have easily lain down on it with ample room to spare. The two guards stood behind Hanner, both at ease yet ready. “Relaxed awareness” came to Lochlain’s mind.
Bay ushered Lochlain to a fine couch and sat with him as he opened the proceedings. “You’ve stated that you need Mr. Hanner’s unique services. Exactly what do you require?”
Lochlain smiled slightly, well aware of the invitation to break the law first.
“I need my freighter squibbed,” he stated loudly and bluntly for whatever recording devices Hanner had running. “It has to be a first rate job, that’s why I’ve come here.” A little flattery never hurt.
Hanner spoke in a surprisingly high-pitched voice that made Lochlain’s skin crawl. “What you are asking for is against Federation law, Mr. Lochlain. Are you aware of that?”
“Of course it’s illegal. I want my freighter’s identity changed. I need something that will stand up to inspections for years to come.”
Hanner and Bay exchanged glances. Finally, Bay pronounced, “We can help you, Mr. Lochlain.” He adjusted his spectacles. “When would you require our services?”
“Any time after 12:00 local time, tomorrow.” Lochlain needed the students off Zanshin before Hanner’s team arrived, not only for their protection but also his own. “It has to be completed by the day after.”
“Given your personal situation,” Hanner interjected with a knowing smile, “I’m not surprised.” The unsettling expression revealed uneven rows of teeth spaced between numerous gaps. Lochlain felt himself flush at the dwarf’s comment.
Hanner continued to stare at Lochlain but it was Bay that explained, “We perform our due diligence on prospective customers, Mr. Lochlain. It is only out of professional courtesy to Miss Isett that we’ve allowed this meeting given your reputation.”
Lochlain wanted to defend his honor but swallowed his words and shrugged humbly. “Can you meet the time requirement?”
Bay nodded. “We’ll need space in your hangar for a Class-F shuttle. Not only will it transport our technicians but it also stores our equipment and servers. Which compartment is closest to the hangar, your bridge or Engineering?”
“Engineering.”
“How many meters between it and the hangar?”
Lochlain looked upward as he thought. “Twenty… Thirtyish? Maybe less.”
“That’s fine. We run cable directly from the servers on our shuttle to your computer banks,” Bay explained. “There can be some obstacles if the distance is too great.”
“When can you arrive?”
“It depends,” the thin man answered with a skeleton’s grin. “When can you pay?”
“How much?”
No looks passed between the two dealers this time. “One hundred thousand credits. Seventy up front, the final thirty after we’ve completed the reregistration to your satisfaction.”
“That’s… expensive,” Lochlain objected lightly.
“But you will pay it, Mr. Lochlain,” Hanner stated confidently. “You are either now working for Appiation CBP, in which case you are out of your jurisdiction and have given me a textbook case for entrapment, or you are running from Appiation and can count your remaining days of freedom with a single hand.” The tiny man sniggered manically. “The problem with desperation isn’t so much the stench but that it leaves you with very few options.” He gestured casually to Bay. “Mr. Bay will now flash you payment information and you will immediately deposit seventy thousand credits into that account.”
The balance transfer took less than a minute. As Lochlain disbursed the funds, he noticed that Isett had flashed him three times in the last fifteen minutes. After payment, Bay confirmed Lochlain’s berthing and freighter information before rising from his chair and guiding Lochlain from the office. As the pair headed for the front, Bay instructed, “We will arrive tomorrow at 13:00, Mr. Lochlain. The entire process should take fewer than three hours. We prefer to see minimal crew while we work but we require your presence and your chief engineer’s.�
� Bay escorted his customer all the way to the door and bid him goodnight.
Chapter 15
Lochlain checked the local time. It was well after midnight despite the primary star’s perpetual glow on the horizon. In the opposite direction, pale red light filtered through the sky from Ancera’s distant companion star, a M7 red dwarf that did little more than add a glimmer of crimson haze to Nimiset’s dusk band. Lochlain rounded the corner from Warner Bookings and flashed Isett. She answered almost immediately.
“You called?” he greeted her playfully. His mood had improved since the squib negotiations. It had cost more than he cared to pay but soon the trail leading to Zanshin would be obscured.
“Reece,” Isett blurted without overture, “Mercer Brooke is an undercover CBP agent. I have some access to classified Appiation financial records and she’s drawn pay from Customs and Borders.” She paused to let her bombshell sink in before offering dangerously, “I have people who can help you solve this problem.”
Lochlain grunted. “No, don’t send anyone, Cindi. I’m aware of Mercer’s past.” He felt himself smile. “You really do care, don’t you?”
Isett ignored the insinuation. “What are you playing at, Reece? You won’t beat CBP,” she warned.
“I’m not trying to beat anyone,” he answered. “I’m just trying to stay one step ahead.”
“So, what, this Brooke is working with you? You’re using her to escape Appiation?”
Lochlain hesitated before answering. Deception came easy to him, honesty was another matter entirely. “Look, Cindi. I don’t really know yet. It started that way, but now? I—I think I might be… I just don’t know.”
“You were about to say you think you might be falling in love with her, weren’t you?” Isett’s disbelief carried easily through the datapad. “I’ve never heard you say that word before.”
“You still haven’t,” Lochlain quipped to cover a growing discomfort.
“Oh, Reece,” Isett clucked fitfully. “You’re falling for the wrong woman. She’s working you to get your contacts. She’s CBP through and through.” Her voice curdled. “And now you’ve given them me and Hanner.”
“I haven’t given them anyone,” Lochlain objected. He gnashed his teeth in protest. “Mercer Brooke wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Oh, God. Listen to yourself.”
Lochlain waited for more but nothing came. “Any luck finding me a crew?” he asked to break the uncomfortable silence.
Isett snorted indignantly. “I’m not sure I’d be doing them any favors.”
“Cindi, please trust me.”
More silence followed but several seconds later, Lochlain’s datapad chimed with an update.
“Here’s contact information for that deckie and snipe,” Isett said distantly. “You can conference with them and either take them or leave them. Two is the best I can do now.”
Lochlain breathed a small sigh a relief. “Thank you. Two is better than none.”
“Just remember, Reece. I have people who can solve my problems.”
“Brooke isn’t a problem, Cindi.”
Isett’s cold voice could have frozen both of Ancera’s stars. “I’m not talking about her.”
The connection ended but Lochlain stared in unmoving contemplation for several seconds. He scoured the last week for clear evidence of Brooke’s loyalties. She had told him that she severed her ties to CBP but he truly had no way of confirming the claim. Was it possible that she could be playing him?
Lochlain shook his head stubbornly as he moved toward his shuttle. Brooke was investing her life’s savings for a chance at freedom away from Appiation. A chill ran down his back as the shuttle door retracted and he climbed into the craft. Had he actually witnessed the account transfers? Could not the funds have just as easily been CBP credits?
“Easy, Reece,” he said to steady himself while docking his datapad to the main console. He opened the pre-flight sequence and sent it to the shuttle’s multifunction display. “Don’t overthink this.”
The shuttle and Zanshin were technically Brooke’s property. Had that been merely a smart move to conceal the trail connecting the ship to him, or a carefully contrived scheme to guarantee he could not abandon her? The shuttle’s engines roared as he lifted off. The center console marked the route to Isett’s cargo container. It was a thirty-minute flight along Airway 3-12, a primary accessway leading south from the capital. He shook his head again, trying to cast the suspicions from his mind.
Despite his best attempts, doubt lingered near the edge. The fitful journey to the container storage facility mercifully concluded with a hail from the lot’s controller. Lochlain transmitted both Isett’s cargo code and proof of certification for handling the TUES container. In response, the controller directed him to the proper location inside the four square-kilometer storage facility.
During his final approach, Lochlain activated the shuttle’s payload claws. Yellow lights began to strobe on the shuttle as its twin arms extended from either side of the craft. With a console command, he engaged a powerful spotlight at the nose of the ship and a dizzying array of cargo containers lit up in the twilight to pass beneath his bow.
Once at the proper row, Lochlain descended and placed the craft into auto-hover a mere meter off the ground. He aligned the ship with the cheater guides on the cargo container’s exterior. After several, gentle thrusts to get the shuttle into perfect position, he activated the cameras on each claw and carefully extended the arms until contact. The pincers clamped down firmly on the container’s side supports.
Lochlain confirmed a secure connection and requested the storage controller to release the container from its ground restraints. Additional data exchanged between the parties to confirm the transfer of responsibility for the cargo and Lochlain’s shuttle strained back into the sky under its new load. He set the thrusters to ninety percent of maximum and pitched steeply up toward the stars. Flying outside of controlled airspace, Lochlain was free to leave Nimiset’s atmosphere under general visual flight rules.
The craft climbed dutifully though not nearly as nimbly when encumbered. Whatever Isett was shipping had serious mass. Lochlain set to work, changing his pilot’s panel over to space flight. Before he had finished, the tiny shuttlecraft was shaking vigorously as its atmospheric engine choked on the thin air of Nimiset’s mesosphere. The ship’s flight computer transitioned away from atmospheric flight and Lochlain watched one set of engine gauges drop even as a second set spooled up. Soon the shuttle’s shuddering stopped and the front wall screen showed the black of space. Lochlain quickly calculated an intercept course for the commercial station and entered the second phase of his flight: the trip back to Zanshin.
Forty minutes later, Lochlain floated at relative rest alongside his freighter. He was facing Zanshin’s Number 5 hardpoint, the slot just forward of the central crew compartments. He pinged Brooke’s datapad and waited.
After nearly a full minute, she answered. “Unngh?”
“Mercer, it’s Reece. Wake up.” During the last months aboard On Margin, Lochlain had learned that Brooke slept sounder than the dead and was nearly impossible to rouse.
“Mruahuff.” The connection terminated abruptly.
Lochlain called her again. Another minute passed.
“Wha?” Her voice seemed slightly more coherent.
“Mercer, I need you to run to the cargo master’s compartment and sync with the shuttle,” Lochlain explained. “I’ve got a cargo can.”
Silence answered him. Just when he thought she had killed the connection again, she replied, “Why do you hate sleep?” After a second, shorter pause, she asked vaguely, “Hey, did you get what we needed?”
“Yes,” he answered curtly. Both of them were too wise to say anything incriminating over an unsecure channel. “I need you to return the shuttle’s handshake in the cargo master’s compartment,” he pestered.
Brooke groaned over the channel. “On my way but I’m taking the covers with me.�
�
Lochlain visually lined up the container to the hardpoint slot while he waited. The alignment would be significantly refined once Zanshin started talking to the shuttle. After several minutes, the freighter passed control of its hardpoints to its consort. Lochlain immediately energized the Number 5 hardpoint and eased the TUES container onto the freighter’s rails. He felt a gentle nudge as the supports accepted the load and locked tight. Zanshin’s hardpoint lights changed from a blinking yellow to a steady green, confirming her grip.
“You’re secured,” Brooke noted over the comm channel.
Lochlain released the shuttle’s claws and backed gently away. “See you in a bit,” he replied before closing the connection.
Ten minutes later, Brooke waved to Lochlain from behind the hangar’s containment field. She was barefoot, and wearing only a bedsheet that parted well above the knees and shamelessly revealed a generous portion of her firm thighs. Once the hangar refilled with atmosphere, she dropped the cloudy, red barrier and waited for Lochlain to exit the shuttle.
He hopped down the short flight of steps. Despite the late hour, he sauntered happily to Brooke and planted a kiss on her lips.
After they parted, she smiled and waited, squinting up at him impatiently. Finally she prompted, “Well?”
“Where are the kids?” Lochlain asked first.
“Qiang’s on watch in the docking bay, the other two are asleep.”
“Zanshin will be squibbed tomorrow afternoon,” he told her proudly. He threw a wink at her and waved his datapad. “I also have two potential crewmembers, a deck officer and an engineer. I’ll set up a meeting with them for tomorrow night. With luck, we’ll be casting off the next morning.”
“Only two? That leaves us short,” she frowned.