Proving True: A Sonia MacTaggert Novel

by Robert Culp

  I can feel my blood boiling. “What in the hell are you doing?” I scream at him. “We are not criminals, I explained all of this to the SPA.”

  “Ma’am, please,” one of the guards gestures at the wall. He must know that what he’s doing is wrong and is trying to get through it with a minimum of confrontation. But his boss is having none of it.

  “What part of ‘under arrest’ did you not understand?” He stomps to me. “Up against the wall! Forget that, you move too slow! Face away from me and put your hands behind your back!” He produces a pair of handcuffs from a pouch on his belt. I cross my arms and stare at him. With a roar, he throws a punch at my face. With the hand holding the open cuffs! He’s trying to rip my face open!

  An attribute of Shra Kuhn is that under attack, the student learns to spot the attack and determine how to avoid, stop, or counter it. I decide to—keeping my arms crossed across my chest—move into him and blend with his movement. The guard who was trying to be nice to me isn’t so fortunate. The dipwad’s unprotected fist crashes into his shoulder armor. I’m pretty sure I hear finger bones break inside the armored glove. Saliva flecking his lips, he screams, “Enough!” With his injured hand he draws his sidearm, the cuffs now abandoned and skittering across the deck plates.

  Then all hell breaks loose. I hear armor being smashed into bulkheads. Glancing toward the entryway, I see two men—one is the biggest I have ever seen in my life—join the melee. And apparently, they are on my side. “Marshal’s office! Stand down, lieutenant!” the smaller one of them yells. Both have badges on lanyards hanging from their necks, and expandable batons in each hand. They are swinging the batons like swords. As fast as it started, the “fight” is over. And these two unarmored men are the victors.

  The taller man shouts, “SPA personnel, stand down! The Marshal’s office claims jurisdiction here! You are invited to clear the area.” Most start making their way off the ship voluntarily. The lieutenant holsters his weapon and, trying to regain some dignity, walks out under his own power.

  Not all of the SPA personnel are so fortunate. Many are on their backs; a few require help getting off the ship. As the able ones help their cohorts move, the shorter one asks us collectively, “Is there a Captain MacTaggert in the area?”

  I raise my hand, “Here, sir.”

  He approaches and gives me a polite nod. “Ms. Barron sends her greetings. Time and pending circumstances forbade her attending. I hope you were not too inconvenienced by our counterparts’ overly zealous…enthusiasm?”

  “Enthusiasm?” He calls assault with intent to commit grievous bodily harm “enthusiasm?” “Believe it or not, we have been through less pleasant circumstances. But these boys apparently saw fit to make a bad situation worse. I’m happy you showed up when you did. Someone could have been hurt, or worse.”

  The other man, the tall one who says something I don’t quite catch. I look at his partner who says, “He has a tendency to mumble when he’s not shouting. Let’s leave it at ‘cork soaking ice holes’ and call it a day.”

  It’s hard not to laugh, but I manage it. “About the search of the ship, I’m sure that still has to happen?”

  “Indeed ma’am. We’ll stay here until the Customs representatives—the Real Customs representatives—arrive. It would be…unfortunate if the SPA decided they were in charge again.”

  “Marshal, I really like you. Is there any chance I could hire you or the pair of you onto our ship?” I extend my hand to shake his. He takes it gently.

  “Sadly, no. We each have contracts and families on Neptune but we do appreciate your offer.”

  “Understood, Marshal. By the way, I’m not made of glass, I’m an engineer by trade.”

  “The handshake? Blame my parents ma’am. I was taught that a gentleman shakes a lady’s hand only after she offers it and then daintily.” His partner coughs at the word “gentleman” but no one wants to make an issue of it. Aside from the glare it generates.

  “Fair enough,” I say. “If it’s within regulations and suits you, I’d like to have someone bring you each a cup of coffee or tea.”

  “Why thank you so much, Captain, that is very generous of you. Coffee please, black for me, two sugars and a splash of cream for Myron.” I relay the appropriate instructions to the galley. “And now ma’am, I believe Ms. Barron is expecting you. If you wish, you may use our shuttle, I ask only that you return it when your task is complete.”

  “Fair enough, am I free to go? Myself and my pilot, Lieutenant Landers?” I gesture at Shawna.

  “Of course, ma’am, it’s the Balder class shuttle, dock 119-C, tail number 19B.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen. Shawna, shall we?”

  “Right behind you, Boss.” She answers.

  As we make our way to the indicated shuttle, we walk past the SPA people as they continue to struggle to their feet. I see the man who was assaulting Shawna try to stand. So I kick his ankle out from under him. He falls into two of his less wobbly teammates. The lieutenant with them puffs up to protest until Myron thunders at him, “The pussy-boy fell, lieutenant. He’s fortunate he didn’t fall on either Captain MacTaggert or Lieutenant…or the lieutenant! You keep your cock holster shut or I’ll shut it for you. Again!” Apparently, there’s a history there.

  As we walk, I call Athena to apprise her of the situation emphasizing that Shawna and I are on our way to Ms. Barron. “Thaw the rest of the scientists. Tell them I’m reserving rooms at the nearest five star hotel I can find for the entire crew. Pass that word and indicate that anyone who wants to stay elsewhere is welcome to do so—at his or her own expense—but they’re to coordinate with you where they are. But no one goes anywhere until after my conference with Ms. Barron. After meeting with her. I’ll communicate to you her instructions about off loading the samples and we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

  “SLAP,” I’ll never get used to slang from her.

  Once we’re away in the shuttle, I turn to Shawna. “I had the thought to pick up a local stud or two during our downtime, but honestly seeing that brute manhandle you put a bad taste in my mouth for any local talent.”

  “You’re sweet to say so, Sonia. But let’s be honest. You and I both know two things. One, whether we like to admit it or not, women are kind of built to survive an attack like he had in mind. And two, that wasn’t my most violent encounter with a man. Not by a long shot.”

  “A, that doesn’t make it right, and B, that doesn’t make it acceptable.”

  The Aged Mariner is, despite its name, a very modern, very swanky and very expensive inn. Apparently, it’s where the shamelessly rich stay when they visit this city. I inform the front desk of my needs and I’m told that I’m in luck. They have enough rooms for my needs as a local person of interest had reserved a block of rooms, thirty to be precise, in my name while two Neptunian Marshals were kicking ass and taking names aboard Cutlass. And these are not just any rooms. It appears we have suites and on the three hundredth floor. I’m sure the view is spectacular. If one is a fan of urban sprawl. I get a final headcount from Athena to pass to the clerk. The scientists and the majority of the crew have opted for the five star inn. Most of the troopers decided against it and are staying at The Horn and Trident. “Seedy” is probably the nicest thing that can be said about it. The good news is that Angela’s offices are only six blocks away. The bad news is that there are no grav cars or limousines to rent. The desk clerk tells me that such things “simply aren’t done.” One either walks or uses mass transit. Fortunately, there’s a bus due in just a few minutes. In keeping with my “no loners” policy, Shawna joins me on the bus to meet Ms. Barron.

  I have to give the infrastructure here credit. This is far superior to any mass transit system I’ve ever ridden. The seats and floor are clean, there’s not the first bit of graffiti anywhere. I’m still marveling at it when we reach our stop.

  Ms. Barron’s offices, the United People for Science is the actual name of the office, are on the 45th floor. This
building is likewise spotless. Shawna mumbles to me, “I hope we don’t have another coffee and tea spilling incident.”

  “Those were faulty cups and you know it.”

  “If you say so, Boss.”

  “I don’t expect a repeat, the circumstances were completely different.”

  Ms. Barron’s secretary greets us. I have to reach over and push Shawna’s chin up. I thought Rankin and Richards were good looking. This kid, who can’t be out of his twenties, makes them look like toads. His muscles ripple under his clothes, which are clingy but not too tight, as he walks. “Please have a seat ladies, may I get you anything? Coffee, tea, glass of wine?”

  Shawna is still speechless. “Wine please, for both of us,” I answer.

  “Of course, ma’am.” He directs us to a pair of overstuffed chairs while he walks to the buffet counter on one side of the room. He pours each of us a glass of red wine. Handing them to us, he says, “I’ll inform Ms. Barron you’re here.” He sits back at his desk and his fingers dance across the keys of his computer terminal.

  Within minutes the door to the inner office opens and a very attractive woman comes out. Shawna and I both stand. “Good morning ladies, won’t you please come in?” Her office is bigger than the bridge of my ship. Huge aquaria of colorful fish are on two walls. “Please, sit,” she waves towards pair of couches on either side of a coffee table. We sit on one, she on the opposite. “Over there,” she gestures at another table in the room, “are the contracts for you and anyone else who wishes to remain with you. I mention them only to let you know that they are there and that the company hopes you will consider continuing your employ with us. But, first we need to determine what you brought and to where it should be delivered.”

  “Ma’am,” Shawna says producing her perCom, “I took the liberty of keeping an inventory of what the scientists were logging while they were bringing it aboard. During Transit I compared it to their records for anything I may have missed. Shall I send it to your holoCom?” I give Shawna a look of approval. She’s growing. It’s atypical of her to display such initiative.

  “Yes, please do,” Angela answers, providing her holoCom code. As the data begins to stream in she glances at me, “Captain, if you’d care to look over the contracts while I peruse Ms. Landers’ data please do feel free, I believe you’ll find them quite satisfactory.”

  I take my wine and walk over to the table, picking up the document with my name on it. It’s for a minimum of three years and full benefits. There’s a credit chip next to it that appears to have two million credits on it. One hell of a signing bonus! It goes on to say I’ll be in command of a research ship and will be exploring the planets in the Krokan-Sudrale sector. The mission is to establish corporate ties with the existing governments of those worlds as well as open negotiations for mineral and biological harvesting rights to specific areas of each. The contract has a total compensation value of three hundred million credits. The two million in the chip reader is mine upon acceptance and the balance will be paid in monthly intervals. The other contracts do not appear to be as lucrative as my own, as none of the credit chips has more than one hundred thousand credits on it.

  My head is spinning with the amount of money I’ll have right after agreeing to accept the contract. I place my wine glass on the table to avoid spilling it. Ms. Barron is speaking again, “If you are willing—and I do hope you are—please have the balance of your crew stop by here and speak with Reginald.” She gestures at the outer office. “He will provide the credit chips to those who sign the contracts. I’m sure you understand why I’m reluctant to let you leave with a stack of unsigned contracts and such a huge amount of money.” I do indeed! “As for the samples, I’ll have them transferred to a warehouse. Advise your crew that a shuttle should be there within the next six hours for the transfer. Myron and Fennimore will stay with your ship until the samples are off loaded. How else can I help you ladies today?”

  Shawna raises her hand, “Ma’am, if Cap’n Mac is signing hers, I’d like to sign mine while I’m here. There’s nothing for me to consider. Wherever she goes is where I want to be.”

  “Of course, Miss Landers. And don’t forget your credit chip.”

  “Ms. Barron, I have a concern.” I say. “The personnel on Cutlass, most came from Star Chaser and I’m certain they are in the stack there, but I picked up a few unaffiliated laborers and have been able to turn them in to competent employees. I have no reason to expect them to be in your stack, but I was wondering…”

  She holds up her hand, stopping me. “Give me a list of names of the ones you mean and invite them to come by. If they do and are on the list, we’ll print them out a contract. They won’t get the signing bonus that Star Chaser personnel do. So if that’s a sticking point for them, they need not come by. Fair enough?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I agree. “Quite fair.” Oh! I almost forgot! “And here,” I pull a credit chip out of my pocket, “is the money I got for the sale of Oedipus and the outpost.” I lay it on her desk and push it towards her. She looks at it for a second then taps the display to see how much it contains.

  “Try this idea on for size: You were entrusted with Gallagher which was lost due to piracy, and Oedipus which was sold because you lacked a way to transport it. You gained Cutlass by stealing it fair and square so it’s yours. What if the corporation buys Cutlass from you? We’ll either repurpose it or sell it but the difference should more than cover any gap between insurance coverage for Gallagher. What do you say?”

  “How much money are we discussing?”

  “I believe this to be a fair offer.” She slides the credit chip back to me. The one with the ninety nine million credits on it! In less than half an hour this woman has given me—to me, to do with whatever I want—over one hundred million credits! “I…I…don’t know what to say!”

  Shawna rescues me, “Say ‘yes, ma’am, that sounds like a fair deal to me,’” she whispers in my ear.

  “Yes ma’am, that sounds like a fair deal to me.”

  “I’m pleased,” Ms. Barron says. “How else can I help you?”

  “I’ll accept this position on one condition: I want an armed ship to protect us. I know a dreadnought is too much to ask for, but a destroyer should do. Something with enough firepower to give any pirates pause. Or if the ship in question is a dreadnought refitted to serve as a science ship, that will work as well.” Especially since I can now personally fund its refit to dreadnought status!

  “Trust me, Captain, the ‘ship in question,’ Prophecy, is more than capable of protecting herself. Would you like to see her specs?” She hands me a data tablet with them displayed. Apparently, she was pretty sure I would want to see them.

  “Thank you,” I say as I take the tablet from her but I feel some explanation is in order before I look at them. “I don’t want to come off as a bitch but I have an independent income stream which is already making me very wealthy. So while this is a staggering amount of money, I don’t need it. And I have learned the hard way that the big black out yonder is a very dangerous place. If you say she can fight, I’m sure she can. But I want to know how many licks she’s going to get in during round one and how many of them will be knock outs.” I scan through everything in the display until I get to the “Armaments” section. I’m not taking this job unless the ship has heavy armor and ten turrets minimum. Fighters will be an added bonus and armed shuttles even more so.

  Holy Isis, she has all that and more! “Ms. Barron, unless there’s something horrible in this contract you haven’t mentioned, you’ve hired yourself a starship captain.” I return the tablet with the specs and activate the unit that holds my contract and begin to read it.

  “And a wing commander!” Shawna says as she continues to peruse hers. “Or chief pilot, which is it, Boss?” she asks me.

  “Do you think I would trust driving my ship to anyone else? Perish the thought! It’s like you don’t know me. Although, you may wear both hats for a while, if it turns out yo
u can’t handle both, we’ll figure something out. You will have to go to school though, I believe this vessel exceeds your 600 ton rating.”

  “That’s not a problem,” she says with a smile. “Thanks, Cap’n.”

  “Very good, ladies. Prophecy is on her way here now and is expected in about,” she consults her holoCom, “twenty six days. I’ll send a link to a virtual tour of her as well as a copy of those specifications to your perCom, Miss—I mean ‘Captain’—MacTaggert. She is the first in a class of four so far. Six more are under construction at Goliath as we speak. Any personnel who sign their contracts within the next 48 hours are considered on personal paid leave until the ship arrives at which time you will do a change of command ceremony with Captain Sterling.”

  Still Not The End

  Glossary

  AARAfter Action Review

  AKAAlso Known As

  ALFAlien Life Form

  AOArea of Operations

  APEAtmospheric Protection Ensemble

  BITCHSLAPBehold! I Totally Concur Honey, SLAP!

  BOOTYSLAPBest Option Of The Year, SLAP

  BUFFETBunch of Uptight Feckless Folk Eating Together

  DEFCONDefense Condition

  ETAEstimated Time of Arrival

  GMVGravity Manipulation Vehicle

  GOATGreatest Of All Time

  HAZMATHazardous Material

  HKADTMHugs, Kisses, And Deep Tissue Massage

  KOAKing Of Acronyms

  KPKitchen Police

  MBWAManaging By Walking Around

  NTKCNeed To Know—Compartmentalized

  PCIPre Combat Inspection