Ghost Ship

by Kathryn Hoff

  Gradually, the scanner filled with warnings that we were sailing within the Gloom’s danger zone. A pulsing light indicated the Troy militia checkpoint, far ahead.

  Following the headings given us by Lili, we remained on the Danger—Do Not Enter side of the warning blips, risking the turbulent eddies that bordered the Ribbon Road.

  We couldn’t make Sparrow fade out of scanners like Nemesis did, but Duchess, cold and dark, her transponder powerless and silent, would attract no attention unless a cruiser bumped into her. I hoped that Sparrow’s tiny energy signature, sailing on maneuvering rockets only, would be lost in the radiation blizz and ether anomalies of the Gloom.

  We began to pick up chatter from ships traveling the Road. Nothing consequential, just the ordinary acknowledgments of vessels passing one another, delivered in Troy’s clipped accents. As we came within range of a com beacon, I downloaded the public announcements to review when we had the chance.

  Troy’s militia outpost was a minor hub of activity, with two militia cruisers incoming and another leaving. The controller issued directions in an even, nearly bored tone. “Cruiser Mitic, cleared to depart. Cruiser Bengo, slow for linkage.”

  Our ships approached the outpost, sheltering in the fringe of the Gloom like a family of deer clinging to a screen of trees as they flitted past a farmstead.

  I held my breath as we passed.

  “Mitic reports anomalous reading at heading five, beta two-seven. Can you confirm?”

  Damn, we’d been spotted.

  “Confirmed. Mitic, intercept. Heading five, beta two-seven.”

  A Troy militia cruiser sped toward our wake.

  CHAPTER 21

  Bluff

  The Troy patrol cruiser neared the edge of the Ribbon Road at a point we’d passed only a minute before. If their scanners were any good…

  They were. The cruiser changed course, coming straight for us. Its hail blasted through the ship. “Unknown vessel, by order of Troy militia, heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

  Damn.

  I responded into the hailer, “Troy militia, this is Sergeant Pata of the Corridor Patrol, aboard a commandeered cutter, towing a derelict vessel to its home port. You are ordered to stand down and permit safe passage.”

  “Corridor Patrol? Since when…”

  Long moments of silence followed, then a new voice. “This is Squad Leader Antwerp, in command of cruiser Mitic. We have been informed of no Corridor Patrol activity authorized in this area.”

  How would a real Patrol officer respond? With irritation, of course.

  “Squad Leader, your communication failures are not my concern. We are not in need of your assistance.” That ought to be snippy enough to pass for the Patrol.

  “That’s a Barony ship! And a burzing Selkid cutter. Sergeant, any Barony ship passing into Troy space…”

  “The derelict is in Corridor Patrol custody. I repeat, stand down and permit passage.”

  The Troy cruiser drew close enough that I could see the silhouettes of Terrans in the cruiser’s cockpit—and they could see me and Hiram. I glowered, in case they had an imager good enough to see my expression.

  Sparrow jinked to port with a stomach-flipping hiccup of the grav gen. We began slowly distancing the joined ships from the cruiser clinging to the verge of the Road.

  Just another few minutes, and we’d be past them, unless any of the militia cruisers were foolhardy enough to follow us into the Gloom.

  The Troy cruiser hailed again. “Sergeant, you are off approved transportation lanes. If you will adjust your heading to the beacon, we will…”

  “Your recommendation is noted,” I snapped. “Our course deviation is part of our investigation. Have you noted any pirate activity in the last fourteen hours?”

  “Fourteen…? Sergeant, my commander formally requests that you proceed to the checkpoint.”

  “Request noted. I will commend your diligence in my report.”

  The cruiser shadowed us for long minutes, their hailer squawking demands and questions. I sweated, despite the chill in the wheelhouse, but kept silent: a real Corridor Patrol vessel wouldn’t pay much attention to a lowly militia unit.

  At last the Gloom’s inky ether closed in, and they fell out of scanner range.

  Kojo corralled me as soon as he was convinced that the cruiser wasn’t following. “Not bad for a bluff, sis. There’s just one problem—it only works once.”

  I nodded. “Lili may still think I’m a Patrol sergeant, but it won’t take Troy long to confirm that there is no Sergeant Pata in the Corridor Patrol, and the Patrol isn’t escorting any derelict ship around here. But we won’t have to meet the militia again, will we? Lili said there was only one checkpoint to skirt.”

  “Only one checkpoint—but in about six hours, we have to cross over the Ribbon Road at a point that’s still in Troy territory. Anybody who happens to be within scanner range could pick up on us.”

  Damn. A Barony ship on the Road would be bound to attract attention.

  Kojo quirked a smile. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and no one will be on that stretch of the Road.”

  Kojo and his boundless optimism.

  “Speaking of luck…” I drew him out of the passage into the wardroom.

  “We’ve had some good news for a change,” I said. “I went through the last week’s worth of announcements from that beacon. You won’t believe it, but Ordalo’s been freed on some technicality.”

  “I told you he wouldn’t stay in jail long. There must be some powerful people out there who want that synthreactor.” Kojo grinned and patted my shoulder. “Things are finally beginning to go our way. All we have to do is wait. He’ll go for the goods, and we’ll be home free.”

  As we approached the Ribbon Road again, Lili briefed us from Nemesis. “We can’t skirt the Gloom on this one—we’ve got to cross right over the Road, in full scanner range of anybody what happens to be around. So long as the sergeant can talk her way past any busybodies, like you done at the outpost, it shouldn’t be a problem. Once we’re on the other side of the Road, we’ll pick up a new current that will get us to Barony territory.”

  Kojo and I, in the wheelhouse while Hiram rested, exchanged glances. There would be no point in trying to bluff.

  “I’m afraid,” I answered, using my Sergeant Pata voice, “that there may be some difficulty. The Patrol had no intention to bring a Barony ship through Troy territory, and the fact that we have done so without yielding to Troy militia requests may have…raised some questions from my superiors. In short, it would be best to avoid detection, as we might expect Troy’s militia to make a more concerted effort to halt our progress.”

  “Concerted effort. Yuh.” Her hailer went dead for a half minute. I could imagine the profanity-laced conversation between Lili and her crew. I didn’t know what Captain Lili thought about my performance as Sergeant Pata of the Corridor Patrol, but Lili must have had enough experience with the real Corridor Patrol to begin having suspicions.

  She came back on the hailer. “All right, Sergeant, I gotcha. I guess you’re a bit off beacon from your orders. In that case, we’d better just barrel on through. Choose your moment, make your thrust, then go dark and cross over, trusting to luck that nobody’s on the Road within scanner range. At speed, you’ll be exposed for about eight minutes. Exit just before the relay beacon. As soon as you’re off the Road, change heading to seven-three by oh-four. When the current takes you, just ride it. We’ll catch up to you on the other side.”

  I winced. Seven-three by oh-four would be a sharp course change for the joined ships—too sharp for Sparrow to manage on her own. That meant someone would have to be in Duchess’s engineering section to man her rockets.

  “That’s a difficult course correction,” Kojo said. “It’s going to take a minute to complete the maneuver.”

  “Yuh. Well, do the best you can. We’ll be close by to cover you in case there’s any gunplay.”

  Gunplay? I had no problem shooting
pirates out of the ether in self-defense, but the Troy militia were just soldiers doing their job.

  In my sergeant’s voice, I said. “Negative, Nemesis. You will not fire on Troy militia, is that understood?”

  Kojo cut off the hailer. “Patch, we may not have a choice.”

  “No shooting. With Ordalo out of jail, we have a real shot at getting back to our old life. Let’s not screw it up by becoming terrorists.”

  This time, it took more than a minute for Lili to respond with a bare, “Yuh. Gotcha, Sergeant. No shooting.”

  When the com was off, Kojo rubbed his chin. “You know what she’ll do, don’t you? She’ll rabbit at the first sign of a cruiser and leave us to face the militia alone.”

  I nodded. “Then what we need is a distraction.”

  Archer was struggling with his enviro suit as I dragged two power mods into Sparrow’s airlock.

  “Are you sure you feel up to this?” I asked.

  He nodded, stuffing his hair under the pink knit hat. “I’ve got the hang of it now. Basic physics. Kinetic energy is proportional to mass times velocity squared.” He twitched a smile. “Tiny movements.”

  Our entry into Grand Duchess went much smoother this time, Archer floating gracefully between the ships.

  On entering Duchess, I paused long enough to silently recite the prayer to the ancestors. This time for real, I promised the ghosts. I know we’re heading toward your enemies’ territory, but we’re trying to get you home.

  The aura of hate told me they were unconvinced.

  Archer called through the mic, “Patch? You coming?”

  “Right behind you.”

  In the engine room, Archer bobbed in place, taking in the destruction. “Zub’s tail, I had no idea it was this bad.” The thick power cables hovered between power bays and rocket controls as if a giant, demented spider had abandoned its web. The blackened propulsion consoles gaped accusingly. Shreds of burnt cable and ash-dust swirled as I floated in. The fine dust settled on the portside bulkheads, drawn by Sparrow’s cargo of grav pellets.

  “We did clean up what we could.” I felt like a negligent host apologizing to a houseguest for the mess.

  Archer crooned to the consoles, “Don’t worry, babies, Uncle Archer’s got some nice, fresh power mods for you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I replaced two mods with the fresh ones we’d brought. One of the used mods would go back to Sparrow for recharging, but I had something else in mind for the other.

  While Archer rummaged around in the damaged engine room, I worked the half-spent power mod up the silent passages to Duchess’s gun turret. There, the frozen bodies of the captain and first mate kept vigil.

  “Time to put you back where you belong,” I whispered.

  One by one, I floated the bodies back to Duchess’s command deck, securing them to the captain’s chair and watch station. Kojo would probably tell me I’d wasted my time, but they looked more natural there, making me feel easier.

  “Archer? The bodies are gone. You can come up now.”

  The view from Duchess’s gun turret was unrelieved black, other than Nemesis flanking us to starboard and Sparrowhawk attached to Duchess’s port side like a baby on her mother’s hip.

  There was no power bay in the turret, but Archer came prepared with bolts and braces to install the weighty power mod securely to the decking.

  While he removed the cannon’s fire control panel and rerouted the power connectors, I opened the cannon’s magazine. Moving cautiously, I unloaded the first two concussive charge canisters.

  Archer nodded his helmet to the canisters. “Do you know what you’re doing with those?”

  “More or less.” Gingerly, I pried the casing off one of the melon-sized canisters and removed the trigger. The explosive charge nestled below it was no bigger than an orange. It would only detonate in response to an energy pulse, but it still felt dangerous in my gloved hand.

  “What are you going to do with it?” Archer asked.

  “Shove it out an airlock?”

  “Keep it,” he said. “Maybe I’ll find a use for it.”

  I didn’t argue, although it boggled my mind to think Archer might somehow find a use for an explosive charge big enough to disable a ship’s propulsion. With cautious movements, I slipped the charge into the turret’s munitions locker.

  From my bag, I drew a specially doctored grenade that I’d brought from Sparrowhawk’s stores—a sparkler grenade that would create a blinding light show and blizz a pursuer’s scanners for a few seconds. Slipping it into the canister casing, I replaced the trigger.

  “This mod doesn’t have much juice left,” Archer cautioned. “You won’t have many shots. And you won’t have scanners—you’ll have to aim by sight.”

  “That won’t matter. The sparklers are just for razzle-dazzle, a distraction while Sparrow powers Duchess out of range.”

  Loading my first doctored canister in the magazine, I proceeded to modify the second shot.

  “The militia will have real ammunition,” Archer said.

  “The Troy militia will only want to stop Duchess, not destroy her.” I loaded the second sparkler into the cannon and locked down the magazine.

  “My part’s done.” Archer leaned his faceplate to touch mine, and with the mic off said, just for me, “Patch—be careful.”

  Faceplate to faceplate, I could see only a little of his expression, but it looked worried.

  “You too. See you on the other side.”

  Lili’s voice came over the com. “Sergeant Pata, Captain Kojo—are you in position? We’re coming up on the Road. Good luck, mates.”

  Archer touched his glove to his faceplate in a blow-a-kiss motion. “Good luck, mate.”

  He disappeared down the ladder to man Duchess’s maneuvering rockets, leaving me alone in the gun turret.

  With Archer and me aboard Duchess, Sparrowhawk was desperately shorthanded, leaving Hiram alone at Sparrow’s helm while Kojo managed the engine room with Charity’s help. I was our joined ships’ only protection; my cannon’s two sparklers the only ammunition I was willing to use.

  Kojo transmitted, “Archer? We’re ready to build up speed.”

  “Ready on rockets.” A jolt told me Sparrow had increased propulsion, pushing Duchess to a greater velocity. A vibration of the console under my glove meant Archer was working Duchess’s maneuvering rockets.

  I rarely saw Sparrowhawk from this angle, looking down on her. She was…not attractive. Battle-scarred, patched with scavenged bits of ships from different worlds and different generations, she was a dodo in a universe of eagles.

  I imagined showing her to a potential buyer. A grand, time-tested design. Roomy cargo space, upgraded propulsion, military-grade scanners, comfy passenger cabins and salon.

  The likely response echoed in my mind—improvised repairs, subpar grav gen, lack of amenities, worn furnishings. Better to pick her apart and sell her piecemeal.

  No stranger would value Sparrowhawk the way I did. Most likely, any buyer would send her to the spare parts dealers to rip her to bits like vultures.

  I sniffed, telling myself not to cry—it’s too hard to wipe your nose when you’re wearing a helmet.

  Hiram’s voice came over the com, softly, as if unseen lurkers might hear our coms. “Heads up, lad and missy. We’re coming to the Road.”

  Nemesis’s propulsion flared, sending her zipping nimbly ahead. After only a few seconds, she shut her engines down to coast. With her power on minimum, she’d have no trouble shooting across the Ribbon Road. By the time anyone on the Road could notice and challenge her, she’d have reached the Gloom on the other side and changed course.

  “Burzing pirate,” Kojo muttered.

  I bit my lip, wishing I could reach my head to twirl a lock of hair. Captain Lili was doing the smart thing—for her.

  Unfortunately, Sparrow and Duchess were nowhere near so inconspicuous or maneuverable. And if anyone was watching, Nemesis’s dash across the Road would have put t
hem on high alert.

  Beloved ancestors, a little strength and courage, please. For good measure, I added, Ghosts of Barony, if you want to get home, protect your ship.

  I had no scanner to check our position, but the inky blackness of the ether lightened a bit ahead.

  “I’m powering down,” Kojo transmitted. “We’re going dark. Archer, be ready to power up Duchess’s rockets as soon as we cross the Road.”

  “Understood.”

  I saw no change in Sparrow’s silhouette, but a cessation of vibration told me that the joined ships were adrift.

  Almost immediately, a slewing to zenith had my stomach in my boots. Turbulence, as we hit the eddies at the edge of the Road.

  The swirling ether set us into a slow spin. At this rate, noble Grand Duchess, pride of the Barony fleet, would spend her eight minutes on the Ribbon Road tumbling stern over bow, Sparrowhawk glued to her side.

  We burst into the clear current of the Ribbon Road.

  Eight minutes of exposure until we hit the Gloom on the other side.

  “Steady,” Hiram crooned.

  A ship lay in the distance ahead. She looked small, but without scanners, I couldn’t guess at whether she was a passing ferry or a militia cruiser.

  We slowly spiraled in her direction, like a cast-off bit of trash being blown by the wind.

  Seven minutes to go.

  No ship came blasting toward us as we cartwheeled across the Road.

  “Getting chatter,” Hiram said on the com. “A Troy militia ship saw Nemesis and is chasing after her. Looks like Lili might have done us a favor after all and drawn their attention.”

  Six minutes.

  “Trouble,” Hiram said. “Cruiser on scanner.”

  A second ship appeared ahead, this one with the hull configuration of one of Troy’s militia cruisers.

  Then two more. Three militia cruisers, converging on us.

  My hand ached to reach for the cannon’s firing control.

  “Steady,” Hiram said.

  A hail echoed over the mic. “Selkid cutter towing Barony ship, this is Troy militia. Heave to and prepare to be boarded.”