Clearing her head without assistance was already getting easier. Even so, when she arrived in the main seating compartment and her hand came to rest on cushioning that she destroyed days before she was overcome with the need to trade the Fleet Feather for something else, almost anything else. Spin didn’t want to spend one more moment on that ship.
Looking through one of the narrow portholes, she could see a battered slider truck drift into the main docking bay doors and most of her crew getting ready to board it. Her feet were pointed at the nearest exit, and before she knew it she was down the port side loading ramp and face to face with something that looked a little like a frazzled android. His synthetic hair only covered half of his scalp, and his skin had a sheen to it that she’d seen before in cheap armoured cyborgs and androids. He wore a tattered armoured long coat that was missing parts of its lower half, burned off, judging from the scorch marks. Beneath he wore the kind of fortified coveralls she’d seen ship service workers use when they had to pass between pressurized and unpressurized environments, but he didn’t have a helmet with him.
“Um, hi?” he said, seeming stunned. Those dark eyes revealed vulnerability, uncertainty she’d never seen in an artificial being – something in there was still human.
Spin grinned at him and shook his hand to put him at ease. “Did Quino send you?”
“This is an old friend of ours,” Sun said. “Dorian left the Cool Angel for Captain Hoket’s crew about a year before you came aboard.”
“Good to meet you,” he said.
“I’m Spin,” she said, unsure of how she should introduce herself to him in terms of her place on the crew. She wasn’t the Captain, that was Sun’s job, she had more experience running a ship by a decade at least.
“Spin is our sponsor, among other things,” Sun explained as though it had always been true.
“Is this yours?” Spin asked, turning towards the slider truck. Its large, round transit emitters were arranged in rough rows beneath the boxy vehicle. They had been upgraded, the largest of the propulsion modules didn’t match the normal near ground transport pods. The larger oval discs around the vehicle were from a larger aircraft, there was no doubt the ugly truck was quick and most likely manoeuvrable. “You did the work yourself?”
“Yes, and yes,” he replied, extending his hand. “Dorian Kench, gun for Quino at the moment, but ship cracker by trade. You show me a hull, or a security system, and I’ll get you in.”
“He believes he’s one of the best,” Nigel said. “He might be right, but don’t tell him that,” he said to Spin in a mock whisper.
“We could use someone like you where we’re going,” Spin said, looking at one of the armour plates covering the rear window of the transport.
He shifted awkwardly. “Won’t be free for a long time, but you’re kind to offer. Those covers rough, I know,” he said, patting an armour plate. “I haven’t had much time to beautify my truck, I’ve been pretty busy. I go to some pretty nasty places. Looks rough, I know, but they do the job. The mover pods were installed with more attention to detail.”
“I like it,” Spin said. “Some of the best things in the universe are formed from necessity, it’s the beauty of function.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dorian replied bashfully. “It’s home though, and it’ll get us to Red River territory. Everyone knows this atmo runner.” The rear doors opened to reveal a littered interior. A few seats had been removed to make room for tools and a rudimentary rack that could fold out into a workbench. Old nutrient pack wrappers, a variety of small leisure drug cartons, and other flotsam from the owner’s life rattled between the seats lining the sides of the old short atmospheric transport. The ceiling was decorated with video sheets that he’d torn off walls and pillars around the city. Animated advertisements for weapons, virtual experiences ranging from violent to sensual, atmospheric racing cars, and beautiful distant vistas turned the roof into a kaleidoscopic sensation.
“Sorry, didn’t expect company,” Dorian said.
Spin couldn’t help but feel for him as he rushed inside ahead of them and rolled up his bed – a modest pile of blankets and a hard pillow. “I still need a few hours’ shuteye sometimes, the old brain likes to wind down and dream every once in a while. I end up taking in the lightshow instead half the time though,” he said, offhandedly gesturing towards the roof.
“Why don’t you just spray a display surface on?” Nigel asked.
“I put everything I can towards what I owe Quino. Besides, I like the flash of it all. Everything on my roof is trying to get my attention, like this one – it’s the third fastest interplanetary runner you can buy, but if you have it you’ll only be able to run it at top acceleration for a few hours here and there because you’ll break port speed or get yourself splatted because you’re going too fast. The advert, the dream is almost better than having one. Or this, she’s a real model, people take scans of her and plaster them everywhere to sell their stuff. Here she’s selling clothing designs, here a resort, and this is my favourite – she’s selling breakfast bars. Did she ever wear any of those clothes for real? Was she at the resort, or did they use her scans to create an image of her running on the beach? Does she even still eat, or did some machine mulch her on Madness Day? I like the way she looks, sure, but I can imagine she’s living on a shipment of breakfast bars on an abandoned beach wearing one of those Active Work one pieces. You put all these vids together like a puzzle and you’ve got a million dreams, and the truth doesn’t matter until you buy the shuttle, or meet the girl, you can escape to wherever it takes you.”
“I like it,” Spin told him, looking at a playback of a walk in a green meadow. Beside it was an advertisement for a comfort sleeper where a caring man and woman were cuddled together by the extra-large swaddling blanket. That wasn’t the only example of idyllic beauty set beside images of human comfort. Aside from stolen images of exciting starship adverts and racier women, most of the images reinforced calm, and featured some kind of human contact.
“Are you sure you want to come with us? You can sit this one out if you like, I can handle it,” Sun said.
“I need something to take my mind off things. Besides, I’m starting to feel like my old self, I want to be with people I know.” A thought struck her as she looked up the empty rows of seats to where Dorian was settling into the pilot’s seat. “Where’s the Governor? I thought he’d want to be along for this.”
“He was the first one off the ship,” Nigel said as he made his way between the five rows of seats between him and the front. “Borrowed a hooded robe from our clothing stash and said he was going to meet a contact he found here to see how his world’s doing. He actually looked pretty cool for an old guy in that thing. Oh, and he took a stunner with him. Don’t think we have to worry much, he said he’d be back within twenty hours.” He picked up an empty box with a loud orange and red DICE logo printed on it. “You do a lot of this stuff, man? I watched someone smoke half of one and before he got half way through he was bleeding from his eyes and ears.”
“It’s different when you’re mostly metal and eternaplast, man,” Dorian said. “Gotta keep the input high sometimes just to feel like you’re part of the world. DICE just keeps me rollin’ when I need that big push. No worries.” He started the transport and it lurched two meters into the air.
“Is he very different from when you knew him?” Spin asked Sun quietly.
She only nodded slightly. “So, where are we going, Dorian?”
“Sixty Third Street, Red River District, there’s a police precinct Quino and his people turned into a night club, that’s where he’ll be right now. Should be there in a few minutes.”
“What have you been up to?” Nigel asked. “The van’s new.”
“It’s an old junker I salvaged right before I got crushed when we were cracking into a ship.”
“So that’s why you’re all rebuilt?”
“All new-to-me parts, except for the bio support package,
that’s all new gear. I got pinched between the Merciful Dawn, the ship I was crew on, and a bulk transport we were busting into. Sometimes I wish it ended there, but Captain Hoket made a deal with Quino so his people could put my grey matter in this old cyborg, the facial modding so friends and loved ones could recognize me was thrown in for free, I’m still paying for the rest.”
“Expensive?”
“Like you couldn’t believe, but I’m working it off slowly, collecting some old debts. I just got a little out of my old Captain, actually.”
“How is Hoket?” Sun asked.
“Last I saw him he’d laid down his arms and was planting his feet firmly on the ground,” Dorian replied.
“What do you mean? Did he retire?” Sun asked, smiling at Dorian’s antics.
“You could put it that way. Less I say, the better.”
“No worries then,” Sun said. “I don’t like him much, to be honest,” Sun said. “I always thought you should have stayed on with the Cool Dawn.”
“Looking back on it, I agree, but it doesn’t matter now,” Dorian said. “I’m stuck with Quino until my debt is paid, should take a few years, and in the meantime I’m looking for the Dawn so I have a ship I can crew up once I’m free and clear.”
“The Dawn?” Spin asked.
“The Merciful Dawn,” Dorian said, speaking the name with praise. “A rescue ship Hoket bought while the crew’s remains were still drifting around inside. The ship’s artificial intelligence killed ‘em all, then the UCA hit it and the whole port it was sitting in with an EMP and moved on. Got her for a few plat and a song. It was my job to clean the Dawn up, get her reprogrammed. She’s my dream ship, and I put most of the work in myself. Willy had her last, but he got splattered, so the ship could be drifting in orbit for all I know. Just have to track her down.”
“We’re looking for Captain White,” Spin said. “We owe him.”
“Take the Cool Angel for yourself in the process?” Dorian asked. “I know I would.”
“How would you do it?”
“While it’s on the ground,” Dorian said without hesitation. “You find out where White is landing her or docking her, and take advantage of how those hatches open and expose all the perimeter security circuitry. I used to tell him to shut his hatches when he was on the ground, but he likes to fill his ship with all that free portside air.”
“He’s right,” Sun said. “I never thought of it, but there are panels just inside the boarding ramps that aren’t hardened to EMP, the ship isn’t made for any kind of ground combat or support, it’s made to be sealed during a fight.”
“Except for her missile bays,” Dorian said. “There’s nothing to hit with an EMP in there, the compartments are completely hardened.”
“Is Quino still at odds with White?” Sun asked.
“I don’t know, if I’m being honest.”
“Then don’t tell him we’re going after the Angel, okay?”
“Mum’s the word, and if you need any more info about cracking the Cool Angel, just say so. I can even transfer diagrams. I used to wonder how I would crack White’s ship during downtime, he and I didn’t exactly split on good terms.”
“I remember,” Sun said. “It’s good to see you again.”
“No time for the mushy stuff, Lieutenant,” Dorian said. “We’re here.”
“That’s Captain now,” Nigel corrected.
“Ah, sorry, Captain Ambo,” Dorian said with a smirk as the sound of a large clamp latching onto the side of the transport filled the compartment.
Nigel and Dorian left through the back doors first. “The cockpit doors have been stuck since I added the armour,” Dorian said. “No regrets though, they’ve saved my ass a few times this month.”
Hot, humid air rushed into the transport when the doors opened. It carried a burnt smell with it, and at a glance she could tell they had landed on a busy rooftop dock. People walked past in great throngs, hawkers shouted at them from the street side, holding what they had on offer over their heads. Two were visible through the doors. “Emergency boosters! Strap them on your boots and forget about ‘em until you’re falling through the air! Off a high street like this, out of a shuttle door, or maybe you took a wrong turn and you’re out the airlock! This is the fix! Stop you long enough to catch another ride, guaranteed!” he shouted, holding small retail boxes over his head with one hand and shining a light on them with the other.
The other hawker she could see held up one garment after another, stretching them out for all to see. “From the United Comfort factory! The bots killed the workers, but left the goods, and I got ‘em! Come see the best in survival and comfort gear in the sector at slip one thirteen! We got everything they had, and they ain’t makin’ no more! Good prices, great- “
Sun stopped Spin from leaving and closed the doors. “Listen, I’ll do the talking. Quino was crazy about me when I left, it’s one of the reasons I had to go, but I don’t know how he feels now, it’s been a while since he’s tried to get in touch. I doubt he’s changed much though, he has a wandering eye, anyone new who is prettier than average can become a major distraction. You’re absolutely drop-dead, so I’m wondering if you could, you know?”
“Sure, I’ll be a distraction,” Spin said. “Who do you want me to pretend to be for this?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. It has to be close to the truth.”
Slipping her finger down the front of her containment suit, Spin instructed it to split open, relaxing its collar and the fit in the front, a relief she found more comfortable than expected. She was used to loose clothing, and the consuit wasn’t uncomfortable, the cloth was so smooth that it had a pleasing sheen to it, but she still hadn’t grown accustomed to the tight fit, especially from the waist up. Clear of the calming drug’s influence, she was more aware of the firmness of the suit, and she enjoyed some relief. Her finger continued down until the front was loosened enough for her tastes, and it stopped before Spin felt too exposed. With a gesture she loosened the shoulders a little, tightened the lower half so it felt like the sort of tights she grew up wearing, then felt more at home in her consuit.
Judging from Sun’s amused expression, it looked better as well. “That’s more like the Spin I’ve come to know, but maybe a little more cleavage?” she asked. “We want him as off balance as possible.”
Spin obliged, modesty was never precious in her upbringing. “How did he become a gang lord if he’s stunned by a little skin?”
“That’s not a little skin,” Sun chuckled at the adjustment. “He plans further ahead than most, and he uses people, it’s one of the reasons why I left. I guess he was successful after the bots went nuts.”
She shifted in her jacket and let it hang open. The weight of the armoured garment felt good, and she set the environmental system to match her consuit, which would keep her cool in the heat outside. “All right, then what kind of associate am I? Should I wear this out with confidence, as though I don’t care who’s looking, or like I’m putting it on display for someone who’s looking to spend some money on a flashy digger?”
“Confidence, don’t be available to him. The real story, your story is going to make a huge impression on him, he hates slavers, but people – especially women – who are on a mission and don’t give him more attention than they have to drive him crazy. So, you’ll be Aspen, an escaped slave who is sponsoring me as Captain. It would be too easy for him to find the truth on his own, and I think he’ll like having someone who isn’t afraid of people like the Countess around, especially if you’re walking in like that.”
“Advanced diplomacy, get your bargaining opponent off balance, even if it strains self-respect. Not that this gets anywhere near that, I’ve worn more revealing dancewear and not batted an eye when everyone was staring, to be honest.”
“Someday you’re going to have to tell me what it was like living with the Countess.”
“Someday,” Spin said.
“Are you sure you’re all right
with this? I mean, you’re steady enough?”
“I’m good, Captain. Besides, I can’t wait to trade the Fleet Feather for almost anything else, especially if it’s better armed.”
The heat outside was mostly thanks to the warm, humid evening, but Spin was certain that the ships coming and going from the old law enforcement docks was a contributing factor. The docks extended out from the round precinct building like spokes on a wheel, with many levels and a high elevation above the other buildings. The people on the broad ramps and narrow streets between dozens of mooring points for small and medium sized ships were all either going somewhere or selling something. The hawkers seemed to be very close to their ships, most of them only had a few samples in hand while their holds were locked tight behind them.
A pair of helmeted spacers in light armour didn’t move out of Dorian’s way, but he remedied that by effortlessly pressing them to the sides of the ramp. One put his hand on the butt of his pistol, but the other stopped him with an urgent shake of his head. “Is it always this busy?” Spin asked. It wasn’t the most urgent question on her mind, but it was a good place to start.
“No, looks like someone major is setting out,” Dorian replied. “I’ve been gone a couple days, had to hunt someone down before meeting Hoket.”
“You do a lot of hunting for your boss?”
“It’s all I can do to pay off my debt, he hasn’t trusted me enough to let me off world yet,” Dorian said.
Closer to the main security doors there was a heavy gunship docked, its hull was bristling with paired turret guns. She made eye contact with one of the gunners, who couldn’t have been more than eleven years old, and she grinned at her, waggling her turret. Spin winked and waved back at her, hiding the repulsion she had at having someone so young at the controls of a deadly weapon. Even if the child could handle the duties of a gunner, which was doubtful, being behind a weapon at all put her at incredible risk. Gunnery emplacements are always juicy targets.
Cool Pursuit: Chaos Core Book 2 Page 6