by Blaze Ward
Should she be free?
That was too much to calculate for today. But tomorrow?
“Get me Hard Bargain on the screen,” Athanasia announced.
On another Dominion vessel, that should have been a matter of seconds. It took nearly three minutes before the man’s ugly face appeared on the screen.
“Yeah?” he half-growled.
Athanasia wondered if he had been asleep. The eyes were too focused for him to be more than mildly drunk right now.
“Where would they go from here?” she asked. “Tarasicodissa is no longer in this system.”
More thinking, as if it was a foreign concept, or perhaps a disease he needed to fight off at every opportunity.
“Poekangibed is closest,” he finally muttered. “Another poor shithole in space barely worth the trip.”
“I want an industrialized system, Captain,” Athanasia fixed her ire on the man. “Preferably one known for shipyards.”
If there was a way to extract his knowledge of Wildspace and its seedier sides, without the man’s ugly personality, she would have already done so.
Athanasia could already see the day she needed to replace this fool with someone else, one equally controllable by his fear, his dick, or his poverty.
“That would be Chatosig. Been there a few times. Endon would know the system.”
Vidy-Wooders scratched idly at the side of his face. Athanasia hoped that he didn’t have anything living in that unkempt beard.
“Very good, Captain Vidy-Wooders,” Athanasia said. “We shall set course to Chatosig immediately. If they have ships, I will probably buy one there and look to hiring a crew. If you wish to remain with my mission of vengeance at that point, we will talk.”
Athanasia turned to her own captain and nodded. One of the crew cut the signal, replacing it on the big screen with the Dominion flag.
“It will be done soon,” Athanasia announced in a brighter voice than she had before. “Let everyone know to prepare for the next phases of their lives, whatever choice that entails.”
She spoke those last words while focused on Captain Iulianus Palaiologos. If she could keep him, she would have a competent commander. One she could trust. Possibly even one willing to be kept on a leash. Butler Vidy-Wooders was fast becoming a bore, with little to recommend him besides a coarse knowledge and low cunning.
Her empire would need people in charge who could tie their own laces without assistance.
7
Valentinian
Longshot Hypothesis was oddly designed, compared to most other cargo ships Valentinian had ever encountered. That was part of why he loved her so.
The engines were up on the front of the ship hanging from a pair of wings that stuck out of the ship’s front shoulders. Between them were the six cabins, three to a side, plus the two common spaces and the kitchen, at least on the upper deck. His bridge was right below the kitchen on the main deck, forward from the cargo hall aft.
Most ships had the bridge above the main cargo deck, so you could fly yourself right up to the station, nosing bow-in for docking. Made it easier for most crews, who tended to rely on the autopilot for things like that.
You left by carefully backing out of your bay until you had enough space around you, pivoted on gyros and thrusters, and then engaged the engines.
Valentinian didn’t know may people who could back a beast like Longshot into a docking port with nothing but rear-facing cameras. That always left him in a spot where he could make a fast getaway, if necessary. Had turned out to be vital on more than one occasion. Undock, light the engines, and push as hard or soft as you needed to get away from someone that had to back out.
And once Longshot Hypothesis got the marker buoys, you were never catching her anyway.
This ship had been his home for nearly three years now. His first crew had been Artaxerxes, as the old man taught the hotshot kid how to be a captain. Then Dave Hall came along and made up for his lack of mechanical expertise with size, strength, and lethal brutality.
“Still think it’s a good idea?” Dave had snuck up behind him as Valentinian stood in the cargo bay next to the lifter truck they had acquired on Kryuome.
Valentinian knew what Dave was referring to. For a long moment the two of them just looked up at the ceiling.
“I’m torn,” Valentinian finally admitted. To himself as well as to his First Mate, and probably his best friend in the galaxy right now. “It changes everything.”
He didn’t have to explain what everything was. They both knew.
“I would maybe suggest getting a bigger, faster ship, but I don’t think such a thing really exists,” Dave offered.
“Remember, the guy who sold her to me upgraded, after you finally conquered Anuradha,” Valentinian teased. “These hulls were dirt cheap, even with the massive upgrades he had done. Don’t know what he was flying with my money, though.”
Valentinian glanced over when the giant next to him fell silent. That meant Dave was thinking, rather than just listening. Especially with that look on his face.
“I remember a larger design from my invasion plans,” Dave said after a few moments. “Wings twice as thick, front to back, with a second row of cabins up there. Added four total, I think. Longer overall hull but the same shape. Put a third engine up centerline, like the fin on a shark. If he did the same thing to that that he did to this, engine-wise, that would be worth the upgrade. As long as you don’t mind being taxed as a medium freighter and not one of the light jobbies.”
“Guessing he probably classified it as a personal yacht at that point,” Valentinian said. “He struck me as the guy that had made enough money, and pushed his luck far enough, that he was getting out of the business before it caught up with him.”
“Understand that concept,” Dave laughed quietly. “I did the same thing myself.”
“This feels like a lot of commitment,” Valentinian said, just as quietly. “I mean, we can do it. Makes sense, gives us more space to work with, and only thing we lose is the ability to stand on top of an Anuradhan cargo box if we ever find one again. If time wasn’t an object, nor money, I’d add four rooms and a head up there. Maybe a crew rec room/kitchen thing to go with the greenhouse Bayjy wants to put in. And add a turret aft with a gun of some sort. Pretty sure it would take Kyriaki all of five minutes to master anything we mounted.”
“But?” Dave asked.
“How soon is your wife coming after us, Dave?” Valentinian asked. “Way cheaper to do this all at once, rather than adding things in pieces, but that takes us off-line for maybe a month, once they start cutting and welding. Do we risk it here, or run like hell for the farthest place we can find that can do the work right, hoping she won’t find us again? I’m already amazed she kept on us this long. It frightens me that she might never stop.”
“Plus, Bayjy has friends here, or folks she could ask,” Dave nodded. “Anywhere else we go, it becomes a crapshoot. And Longshot Hypothesis stands out. Nobody else in the galaxy builds them like that, at least as far as I know. The memory of your ship will stick in minds after we’ve left. I know gearheads like you.”
Valentinian laughed. Not something he could argue with.
“How good are you with a welder?” he asked the former warlord of known space. “One alternative is to buy a lot of sheet metal and bar stock, plus some tools, and do the rough work ourselves, out in space where we can turn the gravity off to move things around. Then it is just a matter of mass.”
“I built my telescoping baton,” Dave grinned down at him. “I can probably figure out which end of a welder is the hot part, at least on the second try.”
“Let’s talk to the other three then,” Valentinian said. “I’d like to see if we can pick up a cargo when we’re buying metal. Maybe we can make this work out.”
8
Bayjy
“Hello again, pretty lady.”
Bayjy looked up surprised from the pile of junk on the table that had caught her eye. Sh
e was always surprised that Ozzo was still around. He had to be the oldest human she had ever met, maybe into his second century now and still going like a pup. A wrinkled one, but still a puppy at heart.
“Did not hear that Hard Bargain was in town,” Ozzo continued with a meaningful look at Captain and Kyrie, trailing along. Big Guy was back on the ship and Glaxu was supposedly taking a nap.
“Not flying with that bastard anymore,” Bayjy kinda growled at the shopkeeper.
Couldn’t help it. Still a sour spot there.
“Oh?” Ozzo asked as Bayjy companions moved a little to each side and left her at least the illusion of a little privacy.
Ozzo’s shop would have probably been pretty roomy if you got all the junk out of it. But you couldn’t actually do that short of backing a lifter and a garbage sled up to the front hatch. Some places probably hadn’t seen light in decades.
“Hard Bargain’s captain, Butler, dumped me and everyone else at a place called Bohrne Station, clear over in Laurentia,” Bayjy said. “We had hit a big payday, an Urlan Troop transport with a full chapel intact. He didn’t want to pay us our shares, so he gave us leave on a new station to celebrate, backed away, and left us there.”
“Bad juju,” the tiny ancient nodded with a serious anger in his eyes.
Bayjy felt the man’s attention turn to Captain like a spotlight. Saw the appraising look, before it turned to Kyrie.
“Better crew now,” he said simply.
It hadn’t been a question. Bayjy nodded anyway.
“And we got more treasure to seek,” Bayjy smiled at the shopkeeper. “This one’s planetside, so I need to augment some of my old tools, and break in some newbies to the fine art of salvage.”
“Underground?” Ozzo asked sideways.
“First part of it, yeah,” Bayjy agreed. “Had to back away from the dig in a hurry, so don’t know more than that.”
“Scalpers or competitors?” Ozzo asked, suddenly waving a hand at her. “Come, this is junk. Better stuff hidden in back.”
Bayjy glanced at her companions, but they were letting her lead. She was making decisions, rather than having to try to wheedle things out of Butler that she needed.
It was so much better this way. Weirder, but awesomer.
“Closer to scalpers,” Bayjy said as she entered the labyrinth of Ozzo’s little world. “Complicated.”
Shelves stacked floor to ceiling. Mostly junk tools, but occasional gems lost when someone ran out of cash in a hurry. Good pickings, if you were lucky enough to be there the right day.
She glanced back at Captain and he nodded carefully at her, so she continued talking. They were deep enough now that someone walking by outside wouldn’t overhear them unless they crossed that same light that made the room beep with customers.
“Dominion folks kinda mad at some of my crewmates,” Bayjy explained to Ozzo.
“Angry enough to chase them this far into Wildspace?” Ozzo stopped and turned around, reappraising everyone in a new light, focusing on Captain. “Ex-husband or insurance investigator?”
Bayjy nearly laughed at the outrage that had crossed Kyrie’s face for just a moment, at the suggestion that Valentinian had maybe seduced her away from some other man. Not entirely off-base, but that would be even harder to explain.
“Estranged wife, actually,” Captain spoke up now. “Not mine, thankfully. First Mate can’t get far enough away from the woman, her money, or her power.”
“Ah,” Ozzo nodded sagely. “That can be a problem. Perhaps your friend should consider fleeing across known space, changing his name, and opening a junk shop on a distant station somewhere.”
Bayjy blinked in surprise at the implications of how Ozzo had originally gotten here. The man had been around so long that people probably forgot that he had been young once. Maybe eighty years ago, but still.
“Two of the three, so far,” Valentinian laughed. “Not sure we’ve gone far enough yet.”
Ozzo continued to nod to some inner rhythm, like music playing only in his head.
“Here, Pretty Lady,” Ozzo put a hand down on a device Bayjy didn’t recognize. “You need.”
“What is it?” she asked, just touching the casing with one finger.
Round. Disk-shaped, about fifteen centimeters tall and forty-five across. Black metal hull. Looked heavy.
“Ground scanner,” Ozzo laughed in a merry song that was almost a bird’s tune. “Repulsors float it about a foot above ground. Just smart enough to walk a grid one hundred meters on a side and then return to starting point. It will beep loudly and stop if it encounters life forms, but you won’t probably find those anywhere you’re working.”
“Life forms?” Bayjy was intrigued and appalled at the same time.
“Designed for avalanche rescue,” Ozzo grinned. “Or anywhere else people get buried alive suddenly.”
“How’d it get here?” she asked, at a loss.
Ozzo shrugged eloquently.
“Stuff makes its way until it stops,” the man said, almost quoting some kind of Zen koan. “Then it finds a new purpose and continues. People are same way.”
She turned to Captain and got his nod.
Still her game to play.
“How much?” she asked.
Ozzo quoted her a price that was impossibly cheap. Like, less than he could probably get just selling it to a recycler to render the metal down into bars.
“That can’t be right,” Bayjy felt her argumentative side kick in. “You aren’t charging me enough for it.”
Ozzo laughed uproariously.
“You make poor merchant, Pretty Lady,” he said after he stopped to breathe. “It cost me almost nothing to acquire, has sat here patiently waiting for purpose, and now you arrive. Is good.”
“Almost nothing?” Bayjy asked. “This?”
“In my business, we call them estate sales,” Ozzo turned serious. “Man dies suddenly. No family. No friends. Stuff left over. Detritus that marks our entire existence on this phase of the wheel. My kind vultures. Swoop in, pick carcass clean. Sell for profit, keep store running.”
Bayjy watched the happy, goofy old man suddenly transform before her eyes into someone that Big Guy would have probably walked a wide path around, rather than brush against him accidentally on a station concourse.
“You don’t ever own anything that you can’t carry with you at a dead run,” Ozzo the deadly shopkeeper pronounced. “Keep that in mind.”
Bayjy gulped. It was like being threatened by a rabbit, except this one had blood staining the fur around his muzzle and claws coming out of all four feet.
Ozzo grinned and suddenly the elderly shopkeeper was back, smiling at her with bright, expectant eyes.
“You buy?”
“Yeah,” Bayjy managed to get her stammer under control before she spoke. Or passed out from shock. “Lemme look around and see what else you have. Need some generalist gear. All my stuff is tuned for dead spaceships in orbit, with me in a suit.”
Ozzo got a still, pensive look on his face. He pointed over one shoulder to the far, back, right-hand corner of the shop.
“You start there and work your way forward along the outer wall,” Ozzo said, and then ignored her completely to look over her shoulder at Valentinian.
“Captain, what needs do you bring to my threshold?”
9
Dave
There were still moments when the urge to walk off Vee’s deck, turn left, and disappear forever snuck up and bit him on the ass, but Dave worked hard to suppress them.
For one, it wouldn’t do him or anyone else any good. He’d burned that bridge a long time ago, pulling Vee into this mess. Kyriaki had not done herself any favors, but even a White Hat can find the spot where law and ethics diverge, and end up making the right choice, however much it might have cost her personally.
If he left, they would still be hunted by the Widow. Athanasia wouldn’t give up until she had them all dead. Dave understood that about his estranged wife
. Could he finally call her an ex-wife at this point? Common law and all that? Legally abandoned?
Dave didn’t know. Didn’t really matter. Either they had escaped her by fleeing from Kryuome, or they hadn’t. He didn’t think she’d stay put looking for him there, but Dave had also warned Vee that they didn’t dare stay long here, or on the planet below, until they were sure they had lost the woman for good.
If that was possible.
Longshot Hypothesis stuck in minds. From below, she looked like a hawk pouncing, when most transports he had known were either utilitarian boxes designed to maximize space and minimize atmospheric drag, or brutalist architecture intended to scare someone as they approached, like a Dominion SkyWatcher. People would remember this elegant ship, anywhere they went.
He had a lot of money stashed away in places nobody would find on this ship, if they needed to sell it and buy something new. Dave just couldn’t see Vee parting with that last piece of his past.
He understood.
Hell, Dave had a book in his cabin that had been given to him by his father, decades ago. There were eight or ten people who would recognize it and know him immediately, regardless of disguise, but he wasn’t ever getting rid of it.
Dave shook his head and considered all the ways they had gotten here, and where to go. A chime interrupted his reverie before he lost too much time. He had been up on the bridge of the ship, staring at the stars, as a break between watches and maintenance tasks that never ended.
Glaxu appeared at the back door when Dave called up a camera. He hoped it was Glaxu. He’d only ever met the one Mondi, so he had no idea how identical or distinct any given member of the species was.
“Hello?” Dave asked absently.