by M. D. Cooper
The Thorian saw her hesitation and his grin grew wider.
“Ready to give up?” he slurred, his putrid breath washing over her.
Sera didn’t reply, only fixed him with a steely glare—at least she hoped it was a steely glare—and grasped the glass in her fist, throwing it back without further hesitation.
The alcohol washed down her throat like fire, and her tongue felt swollen in its wake. If she didn’t know better, she’d assume the bartender had opened a bottle of stiffer drink.
She set the glass down and took slow, deep breaths, using all her concentration to keep the fire in her stomach and veins under control.
The Thorian grunted and stared at the row of shots before him—likely deciding which one to pick up. Finally selecting his drink, he grabbed it with a swift flourish and raised it high to throw it back.
In his current state, the gesture failed miserably and the drink splashed across his face. His features crumpled in confusion and his arms rotated slowly as he slid sideways out of his chair to the floor. No one attempted to catch him and the man’s head hit the deck plate with a solid crack.
Cheers and grumbles erupted around her as Sera was declared the winner. The victors were paid out, and the losers turned to the bar for another drink. In the midst of the post-contest exchange, one voice rose above the others.
A short, but well built man in a dirty shipsuit pushed to the front of the crowd.
“Cheater! She had to cheat, there’s no way that waif could drink Greg under the table!” He slammed his hands on the table, bent over, his face inches from Sera’s. “You used nano to clear the alcohol from your bloodstream.”
Most people had some of the tiny nano-machines in their body, it was nearly impossible not to; they were almost as common as bacteria. A person’s nano was controlled by their internal computer or AI—if you had the money or influence to hire one. Sera’s nano could clear her bloodstream with ease—though that wasn’t a fact she advertised. It took a lot of nano to filter that much booze over such a short period; a lot more than a simple freighter captain should possess.
Sera worked her mouth for a moment, making sure it would respond the way she wanted it to. “I did not. Have the bartender do a check.” The words were slurred, but understandable.
Bartenders on Coburn Station were not allowed to let their patrons to get too drunk—an ordinance they rarely enforced. They had scanners on hand that could do a blood-alcohol level check and determine, based on that person’s size and metabolic rate, if they were too inebriated to have another round.
The bartender had already stepped into the crowd, eager to do whatever it took to avoid a fight on his shift. He pressed the scanner against Sera’s wrist and took samples of her blood for the reading.
“She’s pissed,” he said as he straightened. “Consistent with the amount and time she’s been slugging them back.” Smirking, he turned back to the bar. “Those shooters are only a third of what she’s had tonight too.”
The winners cheered all the louder and the losers ceased their grumbling. Everyone knew that bartenders altered their scanners, so they could give people more liquor than they should. If it said she was drunk, then she should be totally pissed.
Sera sent her internal AI a mental shrug. Helen didn’t like it when Sera drank; she claimed it upset the chemical balance of Sera’s body in a way that made the AI feel weird. Sera wasn’t sure how that was possible, not that would change her behavior. She liked the feeling of chemical imbalance.
Helen could be annoying at times with her mothering, but Sera knew that her AI’s concern was genuine. Pulling her thoughts from the familiar debate, Sera looked around the bar.
To smooth things over, the winners were buying the losers a round. Sera had put a hundred SIL credits down on herself and collected three hundred back. The odds had been stacked nicely against her.
Betting was illegal in Silstrand Alliance space, so money always changed hands in cash. The prohibition didn’t seem to diminish the illegal activity; it just meant no one had to pay taxes on their winnings. Sera thought about that for a minute. Maybe that was why it was illegal; officials probably liked to gamble tax free too.
Stuffing the hard money into an inside pocket on her leather jacket she rose slowly; nearly teetering over at the last moment. A steady hand appeared under her elbow and Sera turned to see the dark smiling face of Cargo.
“Good haul on that, Captain,” he guided her out of the bar and into the bustling main corridor of the station’s promenade. “I made a couple hundred credits on your drinking skill.”
“It’s good to be useful,” Sera slurred, as Cargo led her toward a small coffee shop which was renowned for its after-drunk-sober-up brew. Once inside, Sera ordered two of their strongest and let Cargo wait at the counter for the order. Her leather clothing squeaked nosily as she collapsed into a chair. Cursing the café’s bright lights, she leaned back with a hand over her eyes, praying for a power outage.
Her first mate knew she liked to get one last round in at a bar before they left a station—okay, maybe more than just a round. He often would find her and bring her back to the ship before she was too far gone.
Sera splayed her fingers and looked through them to see Cargo returning with an insufferable grin on his face. He had a coffee for himself and two of the sober-up drinks for her. He set them on the table and pushed them toward her, his smile widening.
“I bet those are going to taste horrible.”
Sera stuck her tongue out as she leaned forward to pick one up. “Prolly.”
“You should have let me know you were gonna get into another drinking contest,” Cargo said and took a drink of his own beverage. “I would have had more cash on hand and made a larger wager.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t think to let you know so you could sate your gambling needs,” Sera said while delivering another sour look.
“My gambling habit doesn’t have the unpleasant side effects of your station drinking binges.”
Sera eyed him blearily over the rim of her cup. “What side effects are those?”
“The first day of any trip. You’re not exactly sunshine and roses the day after a binge.”
“Am I ever?”
Cargo paused, appearing to ponder the statement with great cogitation.
Her mind echoed with the light watery sound of Helen laughing at Cargo’s pause. Sera scowled and swatted at him. “Thanks!”
He gestured with a nonchalant wave toward the second cup, indicating she get to it. Sera had already used her nano to clear most of the alcohol from her bloodstream and contain it for the next time she visited the head. However, Cargo didn’t know she could do that and she needed to keep up appearances.
Sera raised the cup to her lips and took a long pull of the vile liquid anyway. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful. After downing it, she leaned back in her chair, feeling much steadier than when she first sat down.
“All things considered, it’s not a bad bit of extra credit to finish the visit with,” She said and patted her pocket.
Cargo grunted, “one day you’ll run out of people who haven’t seen you win a drinking contest and then what will you do for fun?”
“Dunno, I guess I’ll have to find a new way to fleece the common man.”
Cargo laughed heartily in respo
nse.
Several minutes later—with Sera moving under her own power—they made their way down the promenade and onto the commercial dock front. There was just as much traffic here, but of a different sort. Cargo transports trundled down the deck-plate and service trucks were everywhere, delivering supplies or repair equipment.
Sabrina was in berth seven twenty-four Station South. Long before she could see the ship around the curve of the docks, she could hear Thompson’s voice berating some poor cargo handlers. The echoing shouts eventually resolved into words and Sera hid a smile behind her hand as they approached.
“You lazy dolts, can’t you even lift a crate? I’ve seen hundred-year-old bots do a better job than you oafs. If you drop one more container, I’ll take it out of your scrawny, mal-nourished hides. Now get to it, I don’t have all day.”
Thompson was a large blonde man who had been her supercargo for over six years. To avoid confusion with Cargo, they just called him the Super. He wasn’t a very outgoing man, mostly taken to brooding and stumping about the ship, but his attention to detail made him a good crewmember. Combined with his size and skill with a pulse rifle, that made him the right sort of super for Sabrina.
“How’s the last shipment?” Sera asked when she and Cargo reached the ship.
“Fine if these morons can manage to hold onto an effing handle.” Thompson tossed the two dockworkers a contemptuous glare. “Don’t know why they insist on using humans for this. Either way, we’ll be loaded up with plenty of time to spare, don’t worry, Captain.”
“Good to hear,” Cargo said. “Send the final docs up to me on the bridge when you’re done.”
Thompson nodded and turned back to the handlers as another crate slipped from their grasp. “God’s great black space! What is wrong with you two, is this your first day on the job? I told you I was going to take it out of your hide and now I am. Which one of you wants to get your ear ripped off?”
“Somehow I don’t think that is helping them with their work,” Cargo laughed.
“Yeah, but I bet it makes him feel a lot better.”
“I’ll see you later, Captain; I’ve got to wash the smell of that bar you were in off me before my shift starts.”
Sera took a deep breath. “Dunno, I kind of like that malty musk on you.”
“In that case I’m gonna take an even longer shower,” Cargo laughed and walked onto the ship. Sera stuck her tongue out at him and walked over to an inspection port to admire the sleek lines of her girl.
Sabrina was not a regular boxy freight hauler, having started her life as a pleasure yacht. Her previous owner had fallen on hard times lost possession of the ship in an outer system. Sabrina had needed repairs, and the local shipyard, where she had been in storage for owed taxes, didn’t have the funds to make them. So she sat for forty years before Sera found her. With a hundred years of service before being impounded, she was getting on, but that didn’t diminish the impact Sera felt when she first laid eyes on the ship.
There was an influential man who owed Sera a favor or two and she got him to give her the money to buy the ship and furnish it with the necessary repairs. The finer aspects of the yacht’s interior had been stripped out long before Sera saw Sabrina, but it was the size of the vessel and the engines that mattered. This ship had the room to haul cargo and the power to do so quickly. There were some other modifications that had been made, but like her advanced nano, Sera didn’t advertise those.
She noted with approval that the damage they had suffered on their last run had been repaired. They had been parked in a planetary ring, moving along with the flow of the rocks and ice, when a stray rock had damaged the port sensor array and left a long rent across a goodly portion of the ship. However, the profit from the questionable cargo, which had put them there in the first place, more than paid for the repairs.
Thompson let loose some final curses as the dockworkers finished loading the last crate. She turned to watch with a smile; the dockworkers were visibly trembling as they got on their cart and drove off.
Sera returned to viewing her ship. She enjoyed these final quiet moments alone before going on board and filling out departure docs; these last few minutes when it was just her, Sabrina’s sleek hull, and the call of empty space. She could forget her past, previous failures. Here she was a good captain, Sabrina was prosperous, and she had a good crew.
Her reverie was interrupted by a stinging slap on her butt and Sera turned to see her pilot, Cheeky, standing behind her. She wore a coy smile and her hands were resting on tilted hips.
“One day I’ll get you to give me some of that luvin’ you lavish on Sabrina,” Cheeky said.
“One day I’ll get you neutered and save us all a lot of hassle.” Sera rubbed her stinging butt; Cheeky could really deliver a good slap. She found herself becoming aroused as she looked at her pilot.
Cheeky was a very attractive woman who wore as little clothing as local law or custom would allow. On Coburn that meant she wore little more than three triangles of cloth, her shoes and a purse.
Sera shook her head to clear her mind. Cheeky also had altered glands that could put out much higher levels of pheromones than any human should be allowed to. “Make sure you shut that off and take a long shower, you know what happened last time your love smell filtered through the ship.”
“We all had a good time.” Cheeky wiggled her hips suggestively and blew her captain a kiss as she walked up the ramp. From behind, it was obvious why Cheeky had the name she did. Sera found herself wondering if it was a conscious effort to walk like that or if the woman had resorted to surgery.
Following her pilot onto the ship, Sera’s internal AI flashed a notification that they had made a secure connection to the ship’s private net. Sera checked the ship’s general status and greeted its AI.
Sabrina had been in a strange mood as of late. Sera chose to ignore the reply and smiled up at the nearest observation camera as Helen passed her authentication token to the bridge’s net. Sera checked in, finding Cargo already working on departure paperwork; he must have decided to skip the shower.
<0900 ship time tomorrow.> His mental tone was relaxed. He enjoyed the little details of running the ship. Sera preferred to sit in her Captain’s chair and give orders.
She could imagine him flipping through the plas sheets, checking them against the records logged in their databases, before he answered. Cargo hated making mistakes.
Cargo muttered something rude and the bridge’s net flashed with an image of Cargo’s avatar doing something very unpleasant to a representation of Kade.
The regular drop point was an out of the way FTL jump point that Kade’s people used for trading with other ships. Kade’s people being a pirate organization known as The Mark. Most of their people and ships were somewhat less than welcome at the more reputable stations, such as Coburn.
Sera told Cargo she’d be making the rounds and passed the active monitoring of the bridge’s net to Helen.
When Sabrina had been a private yacht the main deck was where the owners presumably threw their parties and spent most of their time. Now it was the freig
ht deck. The cargo hatch was on the port side, and from there Sera walked into the main corridor, which ran from the bow to the stern engine shielding. The various freight holds were located off this corridor. Some had normal air and gravity, some were refrigerated and some had low, or even no gravity.
Also along the corridor were the lifts and ladders to the other decks. Sera walked towards the bow of the ship and slid into one of the vertical ladder shafts, which ran through all the decks. From there she opened an access hatch to a maintenance tube. Inside the hatch were some knee and shoulder pads that she slipped on; it wouldn’t do to scuff her leather.
The tube ended in a sealed inspection port. Sera opened it and peered out at the newly installed sensor equipment. The workmanship looked good. Everything was straight and attached firmly. The exterior indicators all showed green.
Beyond the array, Sera could see the space elevator that carried cargo and people between the surface and the station. Seeing it reminded her how far humanity had fallen from the glory it once held.
Millennia ago, when humanity had first set out to cross the stars, they had no faster than light technology. Interstellar travel was made possible only by utilizing massive fuel scoops. Ships had vast electrostatic funnels that spread for kilometers in front of them and allowed the gathering and compression of interstellar heavy hydrogen. The hydrogen, typically Deuterium and Tritium, was burned in nuclear fusion reactors to produce the thrust that pushed the ships between the stars.
Journeys between the stars took decades, or even centuries.
With the considerable effort and expense required to get to even the nearest stars, humanity strove to make the most of all available resources. Technology and engineering made impressive advances as societies demanded better use of raw materials.
The space elevator stretching from Coburn Station down to Trio was an example of the different sort of technology humans used to have. In present times, few worlds could afford to build elevators to their space stations. The materials were just too expensive and the process took too long. A ship’s grav drive was more efficient in the short term. However, over centuries of use, the elevator would use much less power to achieve the same volume of transport. It was another example of the long-term approach that people used to take as opposed to the current mindset, which was decidedly shortsighted.