This trade ship, the Ninja, was a real problem. He needed six more months of secrecy. A year would be better. Time enough to get Candia’s atmo processors up and running and for the biology team to give the final all clear on any virulent microorganisms. He needed to show investors that the planet was workable, terraformable, and habitable in practice, not just in theory.
No ‘T’ class planet was ever perfect upon discovery, but Candia was as perfect as anyone could hope for. The atmosphere was technically breathable without any modifications. No toxins in the air, and as of yet no deadly microorganisms floating around to infect some unsuspecting colonist. The issue was the amount of oxygen.
Earth normal was about 21% oxygen and 78% nitrogen, with 1% argon and an assortment of other trace gases. Candia was only 11% oxygen. Breathable but exhausting. People could adjust, but some would also develop altitude sickness and suffocate while their lungs filled with fluid. Getting a few more points of oxygen in the atmosphere would make colonization much more appealing. And profitable.
In a few more months the huge processors would be running, enriching the air with oxygen. The areas around the processors would reach 20% within a year, with the rest of the planet taking decades to reach comfortable levels.
If people found out now, they’d come. They’d come in droves. They’d come with nothing, unprepared. Wildcatters would land and stake claims. Unscrupulous investors, speculators and transport captains would exploit those looking for a new life on a frontier planet. It would be complete chaos. Adam’s only choice would be to shoot them down or otherwise block them from landing.
He didn’t have the ships to block them. He needed a police force for that, with a fleet of destroyers and cutters. All he had was the one battlecruiser. Without enough ships to intercept he’d have to shoot down ships that didn’t have a colonization contract. Adam didn’t want to do that. He wasn’t sure if he could.
In a few months, with the processors running, Candia could borrow at a much more favorable rate and afford a decent fleet to block the wildcatters. Candia could afford its own transport and colonization program. They could set up power plants and other advanced infrastructure to handle the waves of colonists.
There would be no chaos, no plagues, no descent into barbarism as had befallen other more haphazard startups.
So Adam had a tough decision. This unlucky transport, the Ninja, couldn’t be allowed to sell or otherwise give away the existence of Candia. Not until they were ready. Lives and fortunes depended on it.
* * *
Jon looked around at his cell. They’d brought the crew of the Ninja to the battlecruiser Toronto and stuffed them into a small cell. It had a small toilet and sink, benches along one wall for sitting and sleeping. It was the same as any other cell in any brig on any ship in human space. Jon had never been locked in one though, so that was new.
Jon’s day dreaming was interrupted by a knock on the bars. It was Captain Cann, the Toronto’s captain and their captor.
“This is piracy, Captain,” Jon said. And technically it was. More than technically. Taking someone’s ship and detaining their crew without good cause or other legal authority was exactly how piracy was defined.
Captain Cann paused for a moment, apparently lost in thought. Jon and his crew had been transferred, politely, from the Ninja to the Toronto hours ago. Captain Cann had plenty of time to think, and Jon was becoming impatient.
“Well, Captain, are you going to let us go or are you seeking a pirate’s death sentence?”
To Jon’s right, Weston shifted nervously. He still wasn’t saying much. Letting Jon do the talking. Staying out of his way.
Captain Cann spoke. “We seem to have a dilemma, Captain Aichele. I need this place to remain secret. You have motivation to sell that secret. So we are at an impasse.”
Cann continued, “I can keep you here indefinitely. I can disable your ship and dump you and it on Candia. Our first colonists. Or I could simply space the lot of you and vaporize your ship. No one would be the wiser, and Candia’s secret would be safe.”
Jon was about to speak up when Weston interceded. “Sounds like we are talking about money.”
Captain Cann turned to Weston, adjusting his goggles. “Go on…”
“Our incentive to sell this secret is monetary. If you make it worth our while we’ll keep your secret and you don’t have to do any of those nasty things you mentioned.”
Weston was standing up and pacing now, rubbing his hands together. Not talking directly to Captain Cann, more talking out loud to himself. Working out a deal.
“Let’s say you guarantee each of us 1000 acres of our choosing on your planet. Land we can do with what we will. I think that would go far to guarantee our silence.” Weston was excited now. Speaking fast.
Captain Cann looked at Weston and the others in the cell for a moment, then said, “You’d need to put this in writing. Signed and agreed to by your entire crew.”
“No problem,” Weston answered for them all. “I’ll draw up the paperwork myself.”
“I bet you will. And I’m sure you’ll add in a few friendly clauses as well. I may need to get my legal officer in on this.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Weston said. “I prefer dealing with professionals anyway. Amateurs tend to screw things up.”
Jon braced himself. That could have been construed as an insult. Captain Cann was hard to read through his goggles, but didn’t seem to be offended. Hard to know though.
“Before we continue,” Adam said. “I have one question. The latest crew list of the Ninja lists a Jeffrey Aichele, not a Jon. Care to explain this?”
Jon was prepared for that. Jeff and Jon had been playing the name game for years while growing up together on Cornhaul.
“That’s a common mistranslation,” Jon said. “On Cornhaul ‘J. Aichele’ is often lengthened to ‘Jeffrey’ in error. It’s been a nuisance for years. I am Jonathan Aichele, I assure you.”
God that sounded dumb. What had fooled teachers growing up, and sounded good in Jon’s head, came out as complete hogwash when spoken aloud as an adult.
Adam nodded. “Fine. I’ll connect you to the company attorney on Candia as we jump into orbit.”
Captain Cann did a sharp about face and walked out.
Young Rae, so far silent, said to Jon, “He knows you’re full of shit.”
Chapter Six
Jon could see the lawyer, Mr. Boyd, was becoming frustrated. He was scratching his head and rambling on about amateurs thinking they knew more about the law than he did. Weston, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He’d inserted and negotiated so many additional clauses to the deal that Jon had already forgotten most of them. Weston was trying to negotiate away any eventuality or risk, anything that could possibly get in the way of him receiving his compensation.
“But we need this clause,” Weston said.
The attorney disagreed shaking his head.
“You can’t really expect to transfer all the risk on this deal to the Candian government. We don’t even have a government fully set up yet.”
“Fine,” Weston responded. “Then give us an interest in this battlecruiser and any other existing hardware to secure the debt.”
The attorney rolled his eyes. “No one is going to agree to that, but I will make the proposal to our Director.”
Weston went on. “Now let’s talk about what happens in the eventuality that the system is discovered prior to the deadline entirely independently, having nothing to do with us.”
The attorney, exasperated, said, “Obviously you wouldn't be held liable for an early discovery that had nothing to do with you.”
“Obvious to you maybe, less than obvious to me. Let's make sure that's explicit in the written form. Wouldn’t want to have any confusion later...” Weston would have continued on, ad naseum, but was interrupted by a guard tapping on the cell wall.
“Captain Aichele,” the guard said. “I’m to escort you t
o the bridge. Captain Cann wishes to speak to you. Now.”
Jon was led to the bridge, following the guard. With a ship that size, over 60 kilotons, it took several minutes to reach the bridge. Captain Cann was waiting on the bridge when he arrived. There were at least a dozen officers at the various consoles and stations. They all looked away when Jon walked in.
Captain Cann was glaring at the main viewer. Standing, stabbing his finger at the viewer, and then at Jon.
“How about you stop lying to me, Captain Aichele,” Captain Cann said, stabbing again at the main viewer.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jon said.
Adam shook his head and pointed again, more forcefully. “You mean to tell me you don't know what these two destroyers are doing in my space?”
“I don’t.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Captain Cann said. “They followed your jump vector in. I suppose you’re going to tell me you had no idea you were being followed? I read your navigation log. You did a side jump off the mapped line to Cao. You do that to avoid pursuit.”
Jon was silent. He didn’t know what to say.
“Are you being chased?” Captain Cann finally asked directly.
“Maybe. They could be after a bit of our cargo,” Jon said.
“Well, they are about to get it. They jumped in 12 minutes ago, so our information is old. They could be right on top of your vessel by now. They jumped in on opposite sides, going for a surround.”
“Are you going to contact them? Cut a deal with them too?” Jon asked.
“No. From their frame of reference Candia has moved behind the gas giant. Their sensors won’t detect it. If they are following you that means they aren’t here to inspect Candia. I’m going to let them do whatever they want. As long as they are gone in the next 47 hours they won’t see anything. The Candian secret is safe.”
“What about your sensor grid, don't you think they'll see it? That’s what tipped us off,” Jon said.
“You saw our sensor grid?” Captain Cann asked, impressed. “That’s pretty sharp. You must have military training.”
Captain Cann looked over at Jon but Jon didn’t react. He didn’t want to give away anything else to the Captain, the whole situation was precarious.
He was worried about Jeff. They’d left him on the ship, hidden. Jon had hoped to use that as an ace up his sleeve, a trick, if they were captured. But now Jeff was out there alone, surrounded by two warships probably ordered to destroy the Ninja.
Jon was about to beg the captain to engage the destroyers to save his brother when a jump alarm went off at the sensor panel. A ship had jumped in several light seconds from the Toronto.
It was the Ninja.
Captain Cann looked to Jon first, then to the com panel.
* * *
Jeff Aichele rolled over in his water bed. Warm and comfortable. He’d turned the heat up a little to better hide his own body heat signature. Unlike a mainline human his body did not maintain a constant temperature, it would lower significantly while he slept in his water bed.
He’d dozed off a few times waiting for his brother to call. He checked his pocket com for the time but the battery was dead. He’d been playing Battlelord to pass the time and left it on when he fell asleep. He’d drained the battery.
It must have been several hours though, and no noise from the ship. With the door to his quarters closed it was hard to be sure. Maybe he should go back to sleep, someone would come get him eventually.
Jeff debated this for quite a while, dozing off while thinking about it. When he awoke his curiosity finally won out. He opened the lid on his water bed. Slowly. Listening. There was no noise, nothing but the normal running sounds of the ship. A constant low hum of the enviro-system.
Jeff slipped out of bed and let the lid slide closed with a noisy thump. He tensed, a noise like that could be heard throughout half the ship. He froze. Not moving. There weren’t any yells or booted feet running through the ship. No armed men coming to shoot him.
Maybe he was alone?
He walked over to his desk and plugged his com into the charger. The time came up immediately. He’d been hiding for over 12 hours. Mostly sleeping. It hadn’t seemed that long.
Jeff had been bored in his bed and had taken his suit off. Sneaking around the ship naked probably wasn’t the best, so he got dressed. Quietly.
He had several water shedding jumpsuits that quick dried so he wouldn’t drip water all over Weston’s ship. Weston hated that, stray water stains all over. Sometimes Jeff dripped on something just to annoy him. A fun little game to pass the time.
He picked up Jon’s pistol, checked to see it was loaded with gel caps, and strapped on the holster. Gel caps wouldn’t hurt an armored man, beyond knocking them around a little, but he also wouldn’t puncture any vital ship systems and kill himself.
Jeff opened the hatch to his quarters and listened. His hearing was slightly weaker than a pure human’s but should be good enough to hear if anyone was on the bridge. Unless they were trying to be quiet. After a few minutes of silence Jeff stepped into the main passage.
The Ninja was small enough it had only one main passage. A corridor that connected the small engineering space, with its reactor, coil and thruster access, and the bridge toward the nose of the ship. In between were the living and common spaces. A staircase led down to the cargo section.
Jeff, quiet as he could, walked toward the bridge. The hatch had been left open, which wasn’t uncommon. He couldn’t see anyone inside but was too far away to be sure. As he got closer he accidentally kicked a bulkhead, loudly. The resulting thud would be heard loud and clear on the bridge.
“Fuuuu...” he half yelled before remembering to be quiet.
Stealth really wasn’t his forte.
But it didn’t matter. No soldiers, enemies, pirates, aliens or bad guys of any sort were on board. Jeff was alone.
Well why’d I even bother getting dressed then? Waste of my time.
Jeff looked down at the nav board, his pilot’s station, to check the status of the ship. A blinking red light told him the jump coil wasn’t working. That was bad. Without the jump coil he’d be stranded. Lost in space until someone came to save him.
He walked back down the corridor towards engineering. He peered in, still a bit wary of booby traps or pirates lurking. The coast looked clear though. Jeff began to relax. All alone, just him and the ship. Lonely but safe.
He looked over the readouts in engineering. The problem with the jump coil was easy to diagnose. Some miscreant had removed a piece of the conduit that hooked the coil up to the reactor. No conduit, no power.
For sabotage it was barely adequate. Not on a ship stocked and supplied by someone as conscientious as Weston Becker. Jeff rifled through a few drawers of spare parts and found a replacement power conduit, as expected. Within minutes he had the coil reattached to main power and priming for a jump.
Now he just had to figure out where to jump to.
Without knowing more Jeff assumed that his brother, Weston, and Young Rae were taken away by the battlecruiser Toronto. Jon would probably need saving. Little brothers were like that sometimes, needy.
Jeff fired up the active scanners to see what was what in the surrounding space. The jump blocking ion field had dissipated and there weren’t any ships around. So he tuned the scanner to find the Toronto’s outgoing jump signature. It was complex 4-dimensional math, and the jump signature was a few hours old. Not too stale to parse by the Ninja’s computer but it would take time.
The computer estimated 45 minutes for the result. Jeff checked the coil readout, it would be ready to spin up in less than half that time. Time enough for some food then. Maybe a nap too.
The kitchen on the Ninja was in the common section, starboard aft. Near engineering. Like everything on the ship it was small but comfortable. And well stocked. Weston would sometimes try to skimp on the high quality food stocks but Jeff always made sure there were plent
y of high quality vittles. Meat, pastries, the fun stuff.
Jeff pulled out a bowl of pork and noodles. Weston wasn’t there, so Jeff decided to eat his share for him. He grabbed another bowl. Come to think of it Jon and Young Rae were also missing out on lunch. Jeff went back for two more bowls.
He was nearly finished when the jump alarm went off. He spit out his last mouthful of pork, startled. The jump alarm redoubled, meaning more than one jump had been detected close by. Not good. He ran to the bridge.
Two ships, one to each side, and moving towards his position. Small warships by the looks of them, around 17 kilotons each. Predators looking for prey. Jeff considered hailing them, but thought better of it. If they were friendly they’d have called already, like the Toronto had. The chances of them showing up like this, that close, were remote. They were following the Ninja. Chasing them.
Jeff checked the jump calc, it still wasn’t complete. The coil, however, was ready to go. Jeff needed to get out of there quickly before the warships could let off an ion burst and disable jumps in the area. He had no intention of getting caught with that trick twice in one day.
He hesitated for a moment, not knowing where to jump. He guessed his team was on the Toronto and had probably jumped toward the class ‘T’ planet. Jeff had the computer do a rough calculation in that direction and hit the big red jump button.
* * *
The bridge of the Toronto was a flurry of activity. As soon as the Ninja jumped in every officer on the bridge flew into well practiced action. A precision crew. Jon was impressed. There were Terran Protectorate Battlefleet teams that didn’t have that level of professionalism. Captain Cann had chosen his people well.
Captain Cann and Captain Aichele both looked at the com officer, anticipating a hail from the Ninja.
They didn’t have to wait long, the com officer played the hail on speaker, “This is Jeff Aichele of the Independent Merchant Ship Ninja. I am being pursued by two destroyer class vessels. They will track my jump and be here soon. I don’t think they’re friendly.”
Captain Cann looked over at Jon. “You know, you aren’t a great liar. Jeff and Jon are common mistranslations huh? Yeah. I’m not sure how you hid him on your ship. I’ll at least give you credit for that trick.”
Moral High Ground: Crew of the Ninja #1 Page 5