Pandora’s Crew (StarWings Book 1)

by Gorg Huff

  The fiction meant the Franklin royal family could go trundling around the system sightseeing and in the process scout for jump points. But the royal family didn’t want to spend all their time trundling around outsystem. Instead, they loaned their royal yacht to the Spaceforce. Spaceforce then ran a shakedown cruise, followed by a training cruise, followed by upgrades to the leather couches, followed by another shakedown cruise, then more training cruises, and so on. To facilitate all that, the Spaceforce was legally their yacht and its auxiliaries, and the Franklin System Spaceforce was legally nothing but the royal’s personal retainers, paid directly from the royal purse. All of which meant that the Spaceforce headquarters for the Franklin system was located at the palace station.

  Danny knew all that, and a part of him expected this. In a sense, it was two for the price of one for the Cordobas. They took out the royal family and the Spaceforce in one shot, and each acted as an excuse for taking out the other. Danny was never overly fond of the Franklin royal house. A stuffy lot if he ever met one. However, at least two thousand people lived on that station before its destruction, even if most of the ships were outsystem.

  Location: Franklin Insystem, Station 1

  Standard Date: 11 01 631

  Petra saw the officer in Cordoba spaceforce whites waving, and pointed at him. Chuck Givens nodded, and they headed for the man. The Spacer’s Rest was a standard spacer’s bar, with entertainments of all sorts and spaces for enlisted and officers. Once they reached the bar where Captain Michael Ezarik stood with a group of other officers, he motioned a lieutenant to keep the others occupied and led Petra to a side room.

  “Why me, sir? Commander Givens is senior.”

  “That’s why you, Lieutenant. Besides, as the comm officer you were privy to the communications between Commander Cordoba-Davis and the fleet.”

  Petra told her story of the battle of the Parise/Ferguson chain again. And answered Captain Ezarik’s questions. It wasn’t the party line, but she told it, and the captain listened with care. By now, Petra was mostly disenchanted with the Cordoba Spaceforce and was almost belligerent about sticking to her story.

  Then Captain Ezarik took Mr. Givens off to chat, and Petra went looking for Robert Schmitz. She liked Robert. She liked that he wanted to keep his kids with him, and she liked that he did his job and didn’t make a fuss about it.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  “So, Chuck, how did you get in this mess?” Mike Ezarik asked, looking at the bitter young man he didn’t remember from the academy.

  “I told the truth, sir,” Chuck Givens said stiffly.

  Captain Ezarik nodded. “Did George really screw the pooch that badly?”

  “Yes, sir. They must have gotten word of our plans, just like the skipper said they might. They came through en masse and launched before we knew they were there.”

  “Do you think that Cordoba-Davis might have been the leak?”

  “No, sir. I don’t see any way or, for that matter, any reason for it. If the plan worked, it would have helped her career too. The news just leaked the way these things do.” Chuck Givens shook his head. “It seemed like such a clever plan. If they’d come through one at . . .” Chuck trailed off.

  “Do you think it would have worked?”

  “Maybe, sir.”

  “Well, I don’t. Not with the force ratios you were facing.” Ezarik waved at the screen. “Cordoba-Davis was right, much as I hate to admit it.”

  “I don’t like her either, sir. But she is good, and when we got beached she did take care of us. Got us the job on the tramp. And there is something funny about this tramp, sir.”

  “Really? I’ll be talking about it with the grand stockholder later, but I’d like the take of a real Spaceforce officer.”

  “It’s all just too convenient. There is this game they play called Nets and Rocks. You know every spacer plays Space Combat. Every tramp, every warship, anything with wings, plays Space Combat all the time. But they have this different game. And I wonder why.”

  “So what’s different about it?”

  “Well, it takes place in an arena and has two Parthians fighting with nets and rocks. Parthians have these really strong middle arms and they can throw pretty heavy stuff with them. Never mind. The point is, it’s almost like they want a game that isn’t Space Combat.”

  “Why don’t you describe . . . Rocks and Nets, is it?”

  “Nets and Rocks . . .” Chuck Givens went through a description of the game, including the fact that you could throw nets.

  It wasn’t much, and Mike Ezarik wasn’t entirely convinced there was anything there. But the hairs on the back of his neck were telling him there just might be something. Besides, keeping someone like Givens as an informant might be useful, even if Gold was legitimate. He could probably sell the information to the Jackson-Cordobas, if nothing else.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Chuck Givens returned to Pandora in a more hopeful mood. Maybe Tanya was working undercover for Spaceforce and they would all return to the service as heros. In any case, it was nice to talk to real Spaceforce people again.

  Location: Kindred Novelties, Station 1, Franklin System

  Standard Date: 11 01 631

  Danny perused the items in the Kindred shop. He’d last been here about twenty-two years ago. There were plates made of scales from the targ beast, ceramics of many types, and sets of crystal stemware in every color of the rainbow, plus loads more knickknacks of all sorts in the crowded little shop. The shop was owned by Albert Gold, a member of the Gold Line who hadn’t passed the official tests. Albert was not legally entitled to breed in the Cybrant System, but here in Franklin he could. He—very publicly—resented the restrictions on his breeding in Cybrant, and was happily married to Margaret Silver, another Cybrant who had not passed the tests. He was also, Danny knew, a spy for the Cybrant System.

  “Well, if it ain’t Danny,” Margaret said. “How’s life as a free trader?”

  “Well enough, Maggy,” Danny said. “I get by and haven’t had anyone try to shoot me in the back in years.”

  “You should have just thrown the math section. It would have saved you a lot of trouble.”

  “Like you did?”

  “Of course not. Two plus two is five. Always has been, always will be,” Margaret said.

  But there was a tenseness in her manner. Danny spotted it, but he doubted anyone else would. “How do you like the new management?” Danny asked more quietly.

  She looked around. “It’s fine. Say, Danny, why don’t you drop by our place for dinner? I’m sure Bert would love to see you, and little Sara is all grown up now.” She tapped a finger on a blood red crystal tumbler that was on the shelf.

  It was a signal for urgency. Danny shrugged. “Fine—” Then paused. “—and you need to come have dinner on the Pan before I leave. John Gabriel is a fine chef and we have lambfish all the way from Hudson.”

  Location: Bert and Maggy’s Apartment, Station 1

  Bert was putting away the sweeper as Danny entered the set of rooms. The door closed and Bert said, “We’re clear, at least for now.”

  “How is it?”

  “Prince Edward is still alive and in hiding, but he’s the last of the royals,” Bert said.

  Franklin, in spite of its name, was a monarchy. The royal family were the next best thing to a Cybrant main line, and the two systems had enjoyed good, if unofficial, relations for centuries.

  “The Cordobas made a clean sweep and have put in a stockholder board and new corporate-based government. Half the system nobles are dead and the rest are in hiding.”

  “How much support does the new government have?” Danny asked.

  “More than I would have expected, but a lot of people are unhappy,” Maggy said.

  Danny looked at them. They were nervous, but that was all he could tell. “Do you guys need a way out of system?”

  “Not us, Danny. Edward. As long as he’s alive and free, the Cordoba hold on this system is going to be w
eak.”

  “Frankly, Maggy, I don’t give a crap whether the Drakes or the Cordobas hold this system. And I think you know how I feel about rule by bloodlines.”

  “You made that quite clear when you left Cybrant,” Bert said.

  “Before he left, if I recall correctly,” Maggy said sardonically. “That was why he had to leave.”

  “It’s all ancient history. The issue here is a fifteen-year-old boy,” Bert said. “Even if he is a prince.”

  Danny winced at the thought of a fifteen-year-old male who had been raised as a royal. On the other hand, he couldn’t leave the kid. Even in the time it took them to get in system, Danny picked up that things were bad, and his chat with Margaret at the shop reinforced that. Franklin had been “liberated” from its royal oppressors, and the liberators didn’t want any of those royal oppressors left for the population to rally around.

  “Do you think you can find him?” Danny asked. “For that matter, how do you know he’s alive?”

  Bert’s eyes shifted to the door to the bed chambers.

  “Are you nuts? Here?”

  “Where better?” Margaret said. “He was officially on the planet hunting when the attack came, so there is no reason for anyone to look for him on the stations.”

  “So what was he doing here if he was ‘on the planet’?”

  “He has your mod.”

  “I heard they were selling it,” Danny agreed. For best results, the subcutaneous muscles that kept the skin of people with Danny’s mod from blowing up like a balloon in vacuum needed exercise. Especially in childhood and the teenage years. It was a part of Danny’s childhood training that he remembered hating with a passion. You ached everywhere after a space walk.

  “So you were doing the training?”

  “Yes. It was part of the deal.” The deal was the ongoing agreement that allowed them to operate as spies for the Cybrant system and not be harassed by Franklin counterintelligence.

  “Well, If I decide to agree to this, that will make it easier to get him to the Pan. Where did you want me to take him?”

  “We were thinking Cybrant, but—” Bert hurried on before Danny could interrupt. “—that was before you showed up.”

  “Not a good idea anyway,” Danny said. “There’s a good chance that Cybrant is next on the list. Admiral Chin made it clear that I’m not to go to Cybrant. I told them that was fine with me and added some personal history they can easily check, so they would understand why I’m fine with it. But that still leaves the question of where . . .” Danny paused. “I assume you guys had hooks in the system spaceforce?”

  “We try to be friendly.”

  “Fine. You’re going to be my pals and give me a complete copy of the system spaceforce rutters.”

  “Danny, you know we can’t do—”

  “Sure you can. It’s necessary to get the prince out safely. Who knows which of those jumps might connect with a jump route I have in Pan’s rutters, and I’m not going to play rutter tag with you while you’re asking me to transport a fugitive. I’m also not doing this for free. You’re going to have a talk with Goldgok, my bug of business.

  “But we can talk about that later. In the meantime, trot the kid out and let’s have a look at him.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Prince Edward Allen Golden Drake Franklin was listening to all this. He was, he thought, in a state of shock. His parents were dead, his older brother and sister, and his younger sister too. He was King Edward VI of Franklin, and it was his duty to lead the revolution that would restore the crown and throw the Cordoba invaders out.

  But he didn’t want to do that. He always did his best to avoid school work. It was sort of a game between him and his parents, them insisting that as a prince he needed to know politics, military tactics and strategy, plus a host of other boring stuff. Him insisting that as the spare, not the heir, all he needed to know was how to hunt, play cards, and dice. His parents won more than he did. He knew rather a lot of tactics and strategy, and he had a personal assistant. It was an expert system, not one of the artificial brains, so it could be trusted. It had no emotions to get in the way, and its calculations suggested the odds of a successful war of restoration were not good. Unless the Drakes came to the rescue, the chances of winning were less than one in twenty.

  Meanwhile, he listened to Danny Gold—the next best thing to a cull—talking about his family like they were the culls . . . and he was royally annoyed.

  He stepped into the main room with the full intent of telling the freighter captain just what he thought of him. And as he did, he accessed Danny Gold, captain of the Pandora, and got the captain’s dueling history.

  His mouth went dry. He felt like a rat in a maze, but every time he turned a corner, someone dropped another wall in front of him. Eddy knew his reaction times were fast, but he also knew the recorded reaction times of licensed breeders on Cybrant . . . and Danny Gold had killed a lot of them before sailing off in the Pandora. “Captain Gold,” he got out.

  The captain looked like a man of twenty-five. Golden blond hair, golden tanned skin. Even his green eyes had flecks of gold in them. He saw the captain look at him, saw his expression change.

  The right side of the captain’s mouth lifted just a touch, then Danny Gold spoke. “You should have accessed the files before you came in. I’m not all that impressed by your PA.” Then the captain turned to Master Albert. “Don’t tell me. You guys have gone back to expert systems.” He shook his head. “Paranoia lives.”

  Master Albert flinched just a little. “The evidence seemed overwhelming . . .”

  “Have you examined it?”

  “Well, not exactly. But experts have.”

  “Whose experts?” Captain Gold asked. “I’m serious, Bert. There is something hinky going on. A whole lot of smoke, but every time I go looking for fire, there isn’t one. Just more smoke, another unconfirmed report about a rogue artificial. And when one report is proved false, five more take its place.”

  Eddy checked his PA, and the PA, while unable to point to more than a few instances of rogue artificials, insisted that the many unconfirmed reports must be given some credence. Eddy looked at how much credence the PA gave other unconfirmed reports and compared them. It gave the unconfirmed reports of rogue artificials greater weight. And it didn’t know why.

  “You trust artificials?” Eddy asked. Danny looked at him and Eddy felt about five years old. “I don’t mean wing controllers or even hunter-nukes. I mean true artificial brains, like the ones they used to use to manage ships and stations.”

  “As much or more than I trust people. An artificial can think of things on its own. Expert systems only tell you what they are programmed to tell you. So who programmed your expert system and what presumptions did they program into it?”

  Eddy didn’t believe this Gold Line defector. At least, he didn’t want to. Eddy was designed to be smart. Smart people can generally figure out ways to keep believing exactly what they want to believe by explaining away the evidence before their eyes. Eddy, for now, explained that distrust of expert systems as the prejudice of a failed Gold Line breeder.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Danny watched the kid, wondering if anything he said would sink in. It didn’t look like it. The kid was pretty skilled. He kept his face and body under control. Not surprising. Most golds and silvers, even the bronzes, had good conscious control of their faces.

  Danny’s progenitors and designers always had issues with empathy. It’s harder to kill or enslave someone you empathize with, so the Cybrant System genetic engineers looked on empathy much as they looked on the appendix—something that had been useful once upon a time, but was now a potential problem.

  However, empathy was closely connected, even interconnected, with a whole raft of analytical functions that were still very useful in dealing with other people. The ability to read and analyze facial expressions and postures, the ability to analyze and make predictions about the actions of others based on things l
ike expression in the context of the overall situation: those things are needed. And they go with empathy. In fact, empathy is mostly those things, internalized to subconscious automatic reactions. The difference between knowing what someone is feeling and feeling what they are feeling is subtle and hard to separate.

  Danny didn’t want a Cybrant on his ship, not even a semi-Cybrant like this kid. It would be easy for Danny to leave him here. Too easy. That was the problem. He knew the kid was dead if he left him here, and he was still amazingly tempted to do just that . . . because he didn’t want the bother of rescuing him.

  Being a decent human being didn’t come naturally to Danny Gold. It was something he’d had to learn, and something he had to actively work at, even now.

  He turned back to Bert and Maggy. “Okay. We’ll have to work out the details, but I’ll take him. And once we get to some space that the Drakes have good control of, I’ll—” Danny paused. “I guess he’s a little young to just dump on the first Drake rep I meet. What do you want me to do with him, Bert?”

  “I can take care of myself,” Prince—no—King Edward said.

  No one paid him the least attention.

  Location: Pandora, in orbit near Station 1, Franklin

  Standard Date: 11 03 631

  Pan examined the rutters Albert Gold and Margaret Silver provided. They were extensive. There were thirty-two thousand jumps within an eight-light-month sphere, with bulges up to two light years from the system star. Most of them were insystem, and a wing ship with these rutters could get around the system in much less time than it took in most systems, even well-explored ones. That wasn’t particularly useful in this situation, with the whole system under Cordoba—

  Pan stopped. That wasn’t right.

  She mapped the Cordoba ships insystem, then the jumps, and she could see a dozen places where they could go through a series of jumps that the Cordoba military units probably didn’t know about, skip around the system with impunity, and leave it in just about any direction without the fleet being able to stop them.