by JL Curtis
Looking at Captain Jace, Fargo cocked his head, Jace mimed pushing the alert acknowledgement, then talking. Fargo punched the acknowledgement saying out loud, “AI Ser… er… Fargo, copied all audio and visual alerts.”
The AI responded, “Thank you.”
“Okay, that does it Fargo. Since you’re the only pax, you’re welcome on the bridge when we depart, which is in about ten minutes,” Captain Jace said.
Fargo thought for a second, then said, “Sure, why not. Usually I’m not in a position to get to watch, and GalScout bridges are real small.” Following the captain up ladders and through hatches, they finally arrived at the bridge, which, Fargo noted in amazement, actually had clear armorplast panels in front and to the sides of the pilot’s seat in addition to the normal piloting and navigation panels. Motioning to them he asked, “Isn’t that kinda unusual? I mean one doesn’t expect to see clear panels up here.”
The pilot turned around and replied, “Not really sir. This old tub is capable of planeting, and to do that, one needs to be able to actually see the environment real time.”
The captain said, “Mister Fargo, Evie is our pilot and we’re damn lucky to have her. Best touch I’ve ever seen, and even better than me.”
Fargo looked, trying not to stare; Evie was a Hilbornite, an inner world known for their medical care systems and doctors. She was beautiful, even with the golden cat’s eyes and softly furred features, “How do you do, Miss.”
Evie trilled a laugh, “So-so. I’m a free space pilot, being the only woman on board is not fun. But this beats the hell out of the options. I guess that’s why I’m known as the Ice Bitch.”
Confused Fargo said, “Options?”
Evie replied, “Oh, my folks wanted me to marry and go into the family business. But doctoring isn’t my strong suit. This is a lot more fun, and I’m one of only a hundred or so female free space pilots in the known universe,” glancing up she continued, “Time to blow and go Captain. Two minutes.” With that she nodded, spun her chair around and concentrated on getting the ship off the station.
The captain motioned Fargo to the observer’s chair and Fargo strapped in as the crew started dropping umbilical connections and finally the docking tube. Pressers kicked the ship out of the dock at a couple of feet per second, and Evie gently brought thrusters on line backing away from the station. Rolling into the vertical, she nudged the ship into forward motion saying, “All systems nominal, half an hour to fifty-G limit Captain, then seven hours to hyper.”
Captain Jace said, “Roger all, we are go for hyper. Any questions Mister Fargo?”
Pointing to the two empty stations he asked, “You don’t use a communicator or navigator?”
Jace replied, “Nope, not unless we’re on a complicated departure or approach, or going into a mil-system. We’ve got an upgraded nav-comm suite and the AI handles it most of the time. If I really need navigation or communications manned, I’d just bring number two and number three on. They are both qualified. But since this one is really easy; I mean we’re just five AUs into the grav well, so it’s easy to get out to Harbison’s World from this side. We’re aiming at the hyper limit directly on course; if we’d been deeper in-system or on the other side of the system- Well, it’d be like going around our elbow to get to our asshole, rather than a direct shot, and this would be about a fifty hour trip.”
Fargo pointed toward the stern, “Is that rumbling noise normal? I’m not used to hearing that on the Gal ships I’ve been on.”
The captain shrugged, “Slight out of balance situation between the EM engines. These old ships need tuning on a pretty regular basis, but it’s hard to find parts sometimes. Eng does a pretty good job with what he has. I’ll mention it to him to see if he can get them a bit closer together. Once we hit the hyper limit, the Alcubierre metric is pretty smooth.”
Fargo thanked him and left the bridge, realizing it was basically boring, just watching the screens and monitoring the AI was not something he wanted to do. Looking up the mess on his wrist comp, he decided to find it now, rather than later as he realized it was eighteen. He might as well know if he could eat there or not.
As it turned out, the mess was adjacent to the lounge and he found it with no trouble. Entering, he noted the purser at one table, who only nodded at him and continued eating. He went to the autochef and punched up a 1200 calorie meal and another coffee as a bulky, hulking Arcturian humanoid came in.
Arcturus was a heavy world, with 1.6 gravities as the normal, and was one of the primary spice worlds due to the hardy plants grown in the acidic soil there. The Arcturian squeaked a greeting that his Galtrans projected to Fargo’s implant as, “Ho, passenger of the ship, autochef you understand? I am Klang, cargomaster.”
Fargo thought for a few seconds untangled the syntax and answered, “Ho Klang, Fargo I am. Understand the autochef I do. Thank you for the question and care of my trunks.”
The autochef dinged and pushed out Fargo’s tray with his meal and coffee. Using it as an excuse, he picked up the tray, nodded to Klang and went to another table. Sitting down, he ate quickly, as was his wont after years in the service. Going back to his compartment, he finished his coffee bulb and lay down to get some sleep.
Six hours later, the IC blared, “Secure all loose gear, strap in, prepare for hyper transition in ten.”
Grumbling, Fargo reached down and pulled the net and straps up over the bunk and secured them, then rolled over. Knowing there would be a five minute and a one minute call, he just laid there. As soon as the Hyderabad transitioned, strangely, the rumbling went away. Fargo’s muzzy thought was that shouldn’t have happened, it should have gotten louder with the additional stresses of hyper flight.
By the third day of the transit, Fargo was starting to go stir crazy and took to prowling the decks, learning the ship as a way to stave off boredom. In the process of doing that, he found a full gym in a small compartment on the upper level. Deciding he could at least get back in shape, he started working out daily. He also discovered a mil-grade VR sim in an adjacent compartment. He started a weight regimen his docs had prescribed and also began running training sims, gradually using more and more advanced ones as he got back in shape. He’d met the remaining crew and decided they were some of the least communicative folks he’d ever seen.
Knowing Hyderabad was small at just 200 yards long, he was still struck by the low level of manning; there were less than twenty ‘people’ onboard if he didn’t count planets of origin. Subconsciously, he also became aware of a rather strange layout for the ship, and what seemed to be a lot of restricted or closed areas. The most talkative of the crew was the engineer, known simply as Eng. He claimed to be from Scotland on old Earth, and definitely spoke with a brogue.
Another strange thing was that although he could empathically sense responses from the various crewmembers, he didn’t pick up a single stray thought. He was beginning to wonder if he’d lost his telepathic ability, and actually was hoping he had.
The other thing he’d done was start on the hypno-dumps for Hunter, learning everything he could about it since he’d surveyed it. Since he hadn’t physically set foot there in twenty years, it helped to learn what the colonists had discovered and had done. One of the more interesting facts was that less than ten percent of the planet was actually colonized and that the population was centered in the plains north and south of the equator in the temperate zone. One major spaceport, less than a half million colonists, and farming and hunting were the two main income producers. Some manufacturing was starting, but that was all it was: starting. Still four operating terraformers on the planet, but they were currently in idle /environmental maintenance mode.
Revelation
Fargo pulled a bulb of coffee from the autochef and walked back to his compartment slowly. Entering he pulled down the desk and dug out his electronics bag, deciding to finally look at Diez’ final holo. Setting up the reader willed to him by Diez, he fed the data chip in and slouched back in the
chair, watching Diez form above the reader. Rather than starting into the “If you’re watching this spiel,” the reader said, “Unconnected, standalone mode confirmed.” The reader then asked, “Do you have numbers?”
Fargo looked at it, wondering what was going on when the reader again said, “Do you have numbers?”
Fargo heard, “Eighteen ninety-four Winchester,” come out of his mouth and he sat up in surprise thinking where the fuck did that come from.
A sad looking Diez formed above the reader and said, “Ethan, I hope you’re alone. If not… Well you might want to shut me down till later.
Not knowing why, Fargo said, “I’m alone.”
Diez started back up and said, “What I’m about to tell you is going to change your life Ethan. More than you can possibly know. Matter of fact, if I wasn’t dead, you’d probably be wanting to kill me after you hear this. And yes, I did add some things to your hypno when we were mission prepping. I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”
Diez wiped his hand across his face in a gesture Fargo had never seen. It was almost as if Diez was in pain. Finally the face looked straight out, “Ethan, I’m not who you and everybody else thought I was. You know how the GalScouts are pretty picky on selection and starting over, never going back past the day folks join GalScouts. Well I kinda cheated to get in. My full name is Roberto de Perez the tenth. Roberto Diez was just what I used to get into the Scouts. You asked me more than once how I knew so much about communications and systems, but you never pushed it. Well, the truth is I am, or was, a genie polymath. Yes, I’m that de Perez. I am- was the last de Perez and single stockholder of de Perez Galactic.”
Fargo slumped back stunned as the holo continued, “You wondered why I laughed at the goings on and comments about de Perez back in the Los San Diego enclave. Simply put, that was a simulacrum properly aged and presentable that stood in for me since ninety-one. In eighty-seven the Consolidated Union tried to wipe out the entire de Perez corporate hierarchy by nuking our family gathering at the Los Alamos Albuquerque plant. They did get everybody but me, because I was late leaving the deep lab. As it was, I spent almost three years in chemo and radiation treatment in addition to trying to rebuild the company. Since I’d set up remotes due to my hospitalization that allowed me to connect with management, I just continued that after I recovered to the point I could actually interact with people again. It was nice to not have to actually interact with people, partially due to paranoia, and partly due to the damnable security requirements they put me under.”
Fargo fumbled for the coffee bulb as Diez continued, “I also decided I didn’t want to live in a fancy prison, which is what the compound in Los San Diego became. Due to my treatments, I cannot have children, either by natural means or by artificial. Something in the treatments has made my sperm and DNA toxic. We were developing simulacra for GalPatrol to use for training and I just slipped another one into the line. When it was ready, I did a nano pack change, and smuggled myself out of Los San Diego and out to Altair Four as a low-level lab manager on a routine personnel exchange.”
Diez looked down as if he was remembering, “At the lab, I was free to do what I wished. I continued my electronics developments, including the FTL and Wave Rider communications systems and we also did the first autonomous scout ships there. Probably the best was the self-aware AI we developed for those ships, but that was outlawed by the Galactic Counsel in ninety-seven. By then I had built comms tunnels that allowed me to push my inventions back to Los San Diego, and have the simulacrum make selected appearances announcing another great invention.”
Diez chuckled, “Had ‘em all fooled. But I was stagnating. Then I saw a recruiting pitch for the GalScouts and how they needed comms types. I built a resume, inserted it into all the requisite databases, and went down and applied as Roberto Diez. You know the rest. I was assigned to your team out of training, and up till now you kept my ass alive. Which I really appreciated.”
Diez looked down again, “Why am I dumping this on you Ethan? Because you’re the last person in the world to want this. I’ve seen what you did to help others, and I know your background. Forgive me for that, but I tracked you all the way back to your birth in the Denco enclave. I know about the Marines, and what happened there. I know how you took care of your team, and how you interacted with all the support personnel. You lead by example, which is something I could never have done.
Fargo reached out blindly and shut off the reader, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. He paced his compartment for a few minutes, then went back to the lounge, hoping somebody was there that he could talk to. The lounge was empty, so he got another bulb of coffee and went to the mess. It was also empty, and he continued up to the bridge. The captain and Evie were on duty, and he asked permission to enter. The captain said, “Sure, come on in Fargo. Going stir crazy yet?”
Fargo chuckled ruefully, not willing to admit how close to the truth that remark was just now. “Yeah, pretty much. This is the first time since I went to boot at Paris Island and then up to Luna for the space training that I had to spend any time doing absolutely nothing.”
The captain said, “Well, I’d offer to put you in stasis, but apparently you can’t do that. There are some entertainment vids on the system if you want, or I can loan you some of my data chips of stuff from old Earth.”
Fargo waved that off saying, “No thanks, I’ll go dig around on the system and see what’s there.”
Evie turned around from the pilot’s position saying, “Hey, bright spot is only one more day to Harbison’s World. We’ll have a day, maybe two, at the station while the goods get transshipped, and we see if there are any loads that match our transits. That will at least get you off here!”
Fargo nodded, “Yeah, I guess I could do that. Can I stay aboard at night, or do I need to clear the ship?”
The captain replied, “Nope, you can stay aboard, not an issue. You can draw your weapon and carry it on station, but it will have to be locked up when you’re aboard. I know you’re legal anywhere, but…”
Fargo said, “Oh I know, rules are rules. Not that I disagree, but it’s like I’m missing a part of me.”
Evie smiled, “And it’s fifth day, ship time, so fish special tonight from the autochef, yum!”
Fargo and the captain both laughed as the captain said, “Evie, I swear, you got more than cat’s eyes, you got cat’s love of fish. If you start purring…”
Evie arched an eyebrow, “I’ll have you know I only purr in certain circumstances.”
Fargo shook his head, “I’m leaving before it gets any deeper up here,” nodding to them both, he left and ended up in the VR sim. Looking for anything to take his mind off what was on the data chip, he dialed up a Silverback hunt from Hunter. Silverbacks, six legged and something like a cross between a pre-historic saber-toothed tiger and lion were the most dangerous animal on Hunter. They were notorious for traveling in pairs, with one teasing the hunter while the other tracked the hunter, and killed them in very grisly fashion. The real irony was their fur was highly sought after, and worth a month’s tech pay, if one survived the hunt and brought one in. Fargo geared up and tried three hunts, only to be killed each time. Racking the equipment in disgust, he drank the last of the cold coffee, and went to the mess.
Klang was eating when Fargo came in and squeaked a greeting, “Ho, Fargo passenger. Workout in the sims you do. Spar you like?”
Ruefully Fargo shook his head, “Ho Klang, spar I cannot, weakling I am. Light gravity world. Broken bones I need not.”
Klang nodded, “Bored if you are, not to injure promise I.”
Fargo replied, “Ho Klang, consider will I,” he grabbed his food from the autochef and sat eating, trying to wrap his head around what he’d heard from Diez and trying to decide if he actually believed it. Dawdling over his food, he finally decided to go listen to the rest of the data chip and then try to figure out what to do. Getting up he took his tray back to the autochef, and got another coffee bulb
.
Back in his compartment, he sat staring at the reader, finally hitting the start button again. The reader said, “Unconnected, standalone mode confirmed.” The reader then asked, “Do you have numbers?”
Fargo said, “Eighteen ninety-four Winchester.”
A sad looking Diez formed above the reader and said, “Ethan, I hope you’re alone. If not- Well you might want to shut me down till later.
Fargo said, “I’m alone.”
Diez said, “Continue from last position?”
“Yeah.”
Diez said, “I hope you took my knife and guns I bequeathed to you. Not only were they special to me, the Bowie knife was one that the original Ignacio de Perez himself carried over a thousand years ago. The eighteen ninety-four Winchester was also carried by a member of the family, and the nineteen-eleven was carried by another ancestor in the Second World War on old Earth. Hidden in the grip of the nineteen-eleven is a data chip that when plugged into this reader, this reader only, and verified by your DNA will allow you to connect to the corporation via FTL and do things.”
The holo looked down, then back up, “I know you’re probably struggling with this, wondering if I’m pulling a practical joke on you. Ethan I will tell you that I am not. You can verify this by contacting your sister. She will have received a one million credit grant from de Perez Galactic within thirty days of my death. And yes, I cheated there too. One more thing you can check, there was a fire in my apartment within twenty-four hours of your fulfilling the final request. This was set up to destroy certain things there that people did not need to know about. It will have been written off as an electrical fire from an overheated autochef. Again easy to check.”
Fargo sat back even more stunned. He’d remembered the fire, and being thankful he hadn’t waited another day to visit Diez’ apartment. Hitting pause on the reader, he started wondering what else Diez had done to him under hypno, and what was going to pop out next. Thinking back, some of the things Diez had done, or had been able to do now started to make sense. And that scared Fargo even more. The thing that truly petrified Fargo was that there was not a single damn person he could tell.