Home: Interstellar: Merchant Princess

by Strong, Ray

  “I got nothing, Ms. Meriel. Lost everything with my folks. Ceres was…not good for us,” he said, staring at his clenched fists in his lap.

  Meriel just nodded.

  “The colony spotted me fare out here. I think just to get rid of me. I still owe ’em.”

  “Take the captain’s offer, Elliot. I’ve been to Ross, and it’s nice enough.”

  Elliot nodded, gave Meriel a weak smile, and walked away.

  Her link buzzed with a text from Lev:

  Ferrell is here looking for you.

  Meriel quickly packed up her stuff and left to look for a place to hide until the jump.

  Chapter 9 Etna Station, Etna 320 System

  Etna Station—Inbound

  Meriel walked quickly along the promenade where she’d first met John on her way to a cargo check. The spray of stars typical of the approach to a station was missing, and she presumed that the radiation shield was deployed. As she passed the window, a few points of light caught her eye. She turned to look out the window and stopped, disoriented, and then backed to the opposite side of the corridor to grab a tether.

  Etna skirted the edge of nowhere from the middle of the Ciberitus Sink, a dust cloud as opaque as the Coalsack nebula, which dropped Etna’s apparent brightness down an order of magnitude. The captain had warned them of Etna’s oppressiveness, but his warning did not prepare her for it on a biological level. Now she understood why hedonism and religion were so prevalent on Etna; they served as spiritual negation to hopelessness.

  ***

  Before checking the cargo with Lev, Meriel checked messages picked up on the comm synch as the Tiger entered the Etna system. Two were flagged “urgent,” and Meriel opened the one from a resident of Moon-C.

  From Anonymous:

  Ms. H: We do not know each other, and I am not sure I am contacting the right person, but please be patient until you hear my story.

  I found your name in the archives of a trading vessel that had problems a decade ago ET. If this is not you, please dispose of this message. If you crewed on such a vessel, please pick up a package at the Greylight Station disembarkation lounge, Etna, under the name of Seafarer.

  Cryptic, Meriel thought. She opened the second urgent message, this one from an unknown GRL on Etna.

  From Blue Dragon:

  M, Come get me please! I’m hiding and cannot go back to my ship. I may have killed someone. Can’t go to the station police. When you get to Etna, call 44-9045 and say “M’s here.” Liz.

  Oh, crap, she thought. She might have killed someone but doesn’t know for sure? She’s scared, though, stuck on a station where death is amusement. If she’s hiding, then her ship refused to protect her, those creeps.

  Meriel grabbed a stunner from her hidey-hole under the deck plates in her cabin and called Lev from her cargo crew.

  “I’m off shift, Chief,” he said.

  “Sorry. Lev, I need a favor. Can you supervise when we dock? I need to take care of some personal business. You can take your leave after unloading.”

  “Yeah, boss, but let me sleep until then.”

  “Sure,” Meriel said and clicked off.

  Someone knocked on Meriel’s cabin door.

  “It’s open,” she said, and John walked in.

  “Got time?” he asked.

  “I’m kind of in a hurry, John.”

  “What’s up?”

  Meriel motioned for John to close the door. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Depends. Really, M. What’s up? Is this about the mil-tech?”

  Meriel shook her head. “No, no,” she said and paused, considering how much she wanted to tell him. Actually, she did not know that much. “My sister is in trouble, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “She’s here on Etna?”

  “Yeah, hiding from some bad guys.”

  “Why not call the police?” he asked.

  “The police may be the bad guys.”

  “Why not tell the captain?”

  “How could he help?” Meriel asked and took his hand. “I’m really worried about her, John.”

  “OK, how can I help?”

  “Well, for one, you can keep this quiet. For two, can you run an errand for me?”

  “Sure,” he said, and Meriel told him how to pick up the package under the name Seafarer. John lingered a bit, but Meriel rushed to the air lock to find her sister.

  Meriel signed the waiver to leave the Tiger, which required that she check boxes for each rule, including the restrictions against entering the green and black zones, though she did not yet know where her sister was hiding.

  Etna Station—On Station

  Meriel tapped her fingers nervously on the air-lock door, waiting for it to open and listening to her pulse race. Less than ten days left for the Princess, and she had not heard from Nick or Jeremy, but that wouldn’t matter if something happened to Elizabeth.

  Meriel’s link buzzed with a message from the XO, Molly.

  Hope, you sure about leaving the ship?

  Meriel texted back.

  Yes, ma’am.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm herself and then sprinted to a rent-a-link near a bar in blue-zone and made the call with video off. What sounded like an old woman with a heavy accent and a creaky voice answered her call.

  “M’s here,” Meriel said.

  “What was her doll’s name?”

  Meriel searched her memory but only came up with, “Dolly?”

  Meriel heard muffled voices and a laugh and then, “Pink sector concourse,” the voice croaked. “Sit near the juke box in the Pink Palace. We’ll contact you.”

  Meriel followed the instructions to the Pink Palace, an ancient amusement that also served something in a tiny bun—a something that could be anything. Still, the place was huge and crowded and anonymous. She used her link to search for what a juke box looked like, found it, and sat nearby.

  While she waited, she worried. What if they could not straighten out the problem on station? Could she stow her sister somewhere on the Tiger? Maybe in the cargo hold? Meriel could bring her water and food, but the hold had no plumbing. What if I bunk with John and leave her in my cabin? she thought. He’ll suspect me if I push myself at him like that.

  Meriel could not think of any option better than stowing Elizabeth away in her cabin. Getting her aboard without notice would be tough, but Elizabeth could fit in the hidey-hole if someone searched her cabin—every spacer was a part-time smuggler and had a hidey-hole; Meriel had made hers a bit larger than most.

  Elizabeth had not mentioned injuries, and she wrote coherently, but what if someone had texted for her? God, what if I sneak her aboard, and she’s too torn up to survive a jump? A concussion or internal bleeding might get worse when we are all tranqed. What would I do?

  Teddy’s voice came to her. “Before you take the big steps,” Teddy had said, “always have mitigation plans for the possibilities with the direst consequences. Forget the little stuff; plan for the dire stuff. And if you cannot develop the mitigation plans, then don’t do it.” That advice presumes that I have a choice. If Liz is hurt badly, we need to seek stationside medical assistance regardless of a possible arrest.

  She took out her link to make notes, and the link blurred. Her hands shook, and she felt clammy. Breathe, girl, she told herself, looking around to see if anyone noticed her wooziness. Thank God, we’re all anonymous here, she thought. Then she saw him, a man more anonymous than the others. He looked like no one in particular, just as plain as the man she had seen on Enterprise. She looked away quickly but used her link to take a vid of him.

  While she concentrated on the nondescript man, a withered Asian carrying an order of takeout food passed and slipped her a note. “Follow. Not close,” it read.

  Meriel followed the old man around a few corners and past a small EtnaVid studio. A rat-faced, tattooed woman stood in the doorway picking her teeth with her little finger. Meriel looked at her directly and spa
t on the street, and the woman sneered back at her.

  Around another corner, the old man entered an alley. At the end of the alley, a sign announced the transition to black-zone, and Meriel gripped the stunner in her pocket. Just before he stepped into black-zone, the old man turned and entered the side door to a Chinese herbal apothecary.

  The shop was tiny and narrow, smaller than those typical of pink-zone and much smaller than those near the duty-free areas. In the corners of both doors and in each of the narrow windows was the same oval and cross symbol that was engraved on the medal on her necklace: the symbol for the Church of Jesus Christ Spaceman. Shelves bearing small drawers covered the walls from floor to ceiling. The contents of each drawer were identified with a kanji symbol or, on the lower rows, a pictogram of a flower or animals. One caught her eye: a four-leaf clover with an open circle in the middle.

  An old woman stood behind the counter, her chin barely reaching the countertop. Before Meriel could ask her about the symbol, the old woman spoke.

  “Can I help you?”

  Meriel recognized the same croaky voice she’d heard on her link.

  “I have instructions to pick up a package for M.”

  The old woman went to the store window to lower the blinds. She locked the door and switched an old sign to “Closed.” She then knocked on the wall and signaled Meriel to follow her to the back of the store through an old light curtain. Another knock and a sliding door opened in a fake wall. Behind it sat a young man and Elizabeth, her face streaked with tears.

  “Oh, M!” Elizabeth cried and ran to hug her.

  “Hey, Littlebit,” Meriel said with a smile. The tears and dirt hid the bruises on Elizabeth’s face, but they became more obvious as Meriel approached. “Damn, girl. What happened to the cruiser that hit you?”

  “In the hospital,” Elizabeth said. “He’s a cargo-three on station here.”

  Meriel sighed and relaxed when she heard “he is” rather than “he was.” She had not realized that she’d been holding her breath.

  The young man brought tea and sat nearby.

  “What happened?” Meriel asked.

  “He came on to me at the bar and got me in a corner. I couldn’t breathe, and it was dark and cold, like…” Elizabeth’s eyes became wild with fear. “I couldn’t help it, M.”

  “You whaled on him?” Meriel said aloud and then in sign language, “Trust them, yes?”

  “Yes, trust,” Elizabeth replied in sign and then aloud. “They had to drag me off him. He’s big but stupid. He’s in the hospital. I’m AWOL, and my ship jumped. The cops are looking for me, M. One of the cops is the brother of the a-hole and claims I tried to roll him.”

  “I’ll take you to admin, hon,” Meriel said. “As soon as you’re ready.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “His mother’s a lawyer here, M. I’m nearly marine-three and—”

  Meriel nodded. “Self-defense will not work.”

  “They’ll crucify me, M.”

  “Well, then, let’s get you off the station and away from their influence. Pack up, girl.”

  Following her sister’s lead, Elizabeth rose and opened her clenched fist to put a small pin on the table. The pin caught Meriel’s eye and she reached out and picked it up. It appeared to be a clover with a circle in the middle.

  “Where did you get this?” Meriel asked.

  “It fell off one of my assailant’s friends in the tussle. Why?”

  “Your assault might not have been spontaneous,” Meriel said, turning to their hosts. “Have you seen anything like this before? This clover?”

  The old woman nodded. “Bu mo, Inshu,” she said and made the sign of the cross, a ritual of Jesus Christ Spaceman.

  “Not clover, poppy—an old symbol for heroin,” the young man said. “Drugs.”

  “Shushoa,” the old lady said loudly. “Bad men. Real bad. Drugs here. People disappear.”

  “Shushoa?”

  “Shushoa! Shushoa!” the old woman said and motioned with her arms.

  “Archers,” the young man said.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Archers,” he said. “The cult that runs the illegal drug and organ trade here—smugglers.”

  Meriel shook her head.

  “Archers,” he repeated. “The archtrope.”

  Oh crap, she thought. “General Khanag?” she asked, and the young man nodded.

  “What do we do now, Sis?” Elizabeth asked.

  Meriel looked at her sister. “Run. How do we show our appreciation to your friends here?”

  “They’re Teddy’s friends,” Elizabeth said. “I met them a few tours ago. I had nowhere else to go. Teddy will take care of them, M.”

  Meriel nodded and turned to Elizabeth. “I’ll get us outta here,” she said and gave instructions to Elizabeth’s friends. “Time to pack up,” she said to her sister.

  While Elizabeth stuffed her few clothes into a small spacer’s duffel, Meriel bowed to their hosts. “Xièxiè,” she said, and they bowed back. She turned away, but the old woman grabbed her arm and tapped the medal on Meriel’s necklace.

  “You believe?” the old woman asked and watched Meriel’s face intently.

  “Kinda,” Meriel said. “Just haven’t had much time.”

  The old woman gripped Meriel’s arm until it hurt. “Now time,” the old woman said slowly.

  ***

  John returned from retrieving Meriel’s package and ran into Ferrell in the passageway.

  “John, have you seen Meriel?”

  “Not since dock.”

  Ferrell looked at him closely. “It’s about her health and really important.” John did not respond immediately. “John, I think she’s skipping her medication. This is serious.”

  John took a long breath. “Can I confide in you, Doc? With doctor-patient confidentiality?”

  The ship’s doctor smiled warmly and put his hand on John’s shoulder. “Of course, John.”

  John looked around and said softly, “She went on station to see her sister.”

  Ferrell frowned. “What did she say exactly?”

  “She said her sister was in trouble and needed help.”

  “Uh huh,” Ferrell said. “Come with me for a minute.” He led John to his cabin, closed the door, and poured drinks for them both.

  “What’s this about, Doc?”

  “How much do you know about her background, her childhood?”

  John shook his head. “Not much, really. She mentioned her old ship, the Princess, a few times. She talked about getting her ship back and the kids together, including her sister.”

  Ferrell put his hands on John’s shoulders. “I don’t want you to confront her about this, John. Captain’s orders.”

  John raised his eyebrows. “Ah…OK.”

  “John, this is all Meriel’s fantasy.”

  “What is?”

  “Her sister, her ship. They are all gone, John.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They’re delusions,” Ferrell said. “They’re all gone, but she can’t accept it. She can’t handle the loss of all her family and friends.”

  “She talks about them all the time.”

  Ferrell paced around the small room. “She’s on meds as a condition of working here on the Tiger. Antipsychotics because of the nightmares and delusions. It looks like she’s stopped taking them. We need to get her back on the meds before she hurts herself or someone else.”

  John took a few seconds to absorb the doctor’s information and then shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s in her file, John. Meriel had a psychotic break after they found her on the ship alone and everyone else…dead.”

  John paused. “Even the kids?”

  Ferrell nodded. “She’s got this whole fantasy world set up with a training schedule for them. Some shyster lawyer is playing along to get her money. It’s all her delusion.” Ferrell went to the door. “I’m off to warn the XO. Call me as soon as yo
u hear from her.” He grabbed John on the shoulder as he passed and looked directly at him. “We need to get her back on those meds, John.”

  John sat in the chair, stunned. “Ah…sure,” he said, and Ferrell left.

  ***

  Doc Ferrell knocked on the XO’s cabin door and entered without permission.

  “Molly,” he said. “Meriel is off her meds.”

  Molly looked at Ferrell with a squint and a frown. “And you know this how?”

  “She’s telling stories about the kids from the Princess. She has a training schedule for them, and now she says she is off to see her sister, the one who died ten years ago.”

  Molly said nothing.

  “We must get her back on those meds,” Ferrell said.

  “She’s doing her job just fine, Doc.”

  “Yeah? She’s derelict from her cargo shift and wasn’t there to unload when we docked.”

  Molly tapped her link on her desk and frowned. “Her job is to get it done, not to do it. I don’t have a complaint, and her job is my business, not yours.”

  “My job is the health and safety of this ship, Exec.”

  “OK, I’ll talk to her.”

  “Talk, crap,” Ferrell said. “She’s psychotic, living in a dream world, and she’s qualified marine-three. She’s a killer.”

  Molly maintained her squint and frown. “You mean could be a killer, right?”

  “I don’t know, Molly. Maybe she was sick before the Princess.”

  “Just what are you saying, Doc?”

  “Piracy is always an inside job, or was.”

  “Yeah, so what are you saying?”

  Ferrell’s face turned red, and he slapped the desk. “The Princess was an inside job, and she’s the only one left inside is what I’m saying.”

  “You’re implying that it wasn’t pirates or drug dealers but Meriel who killed everyone?” Molly asked, shaking her head.

  “No one mentions pirates in a hundred years outside of bedtime stories, and somehow she’s the only survivor of a pirate attack? Maybe she was sick before—”