Wings of Earth- Season One

by Eric Michael Craig

  “When do you get to hear the final results of their inquiry?” he asked.

  “The public hearing was this morning,” he said. “I wanted to go but they wouldn’t let me.”

  “You couldn’t even go to a public hearing on your case?” the engineer shook his head and frowned. “That’s not right.”

  “I asked about that,” Ethan said. “They told me it was so that anybody who wanted to talk wouldn’t feel intimidated to speak their mind with me being there.”

  “So, you still haven’t said when you’ll know?” Rene asked again.

  “Dono.” Ethan shrugged. “Tomorrow maybe, unless someone said something today that opened up something new.”

  “Well then maybe we should get you back to your suite,” he said. “You could use some sleep before morning.”

  Walker sighed and nodded, sliding his chair back with a little too much energy and almost knocking the table over behind him. “Sorry,” he said as the man behind him growled.

  Rene smiled and held the bottle out to the man as a peace offering. It worked, and he grinned as he took it and set it on his table.

  “Let’s go,” Rene said, grabbing Ethan by the arm and steadying him as he tried to help him to his feet.

  “Not yet,” Nuko said. She pushed her way up to the table and shook her head. Her face looked like she had been crying. She crashed down into the chair across from Walker and tossed her thinpad on the table. “So, you’ve heard?”

  “Heard what?” Rene said as he eased himself back into his chair.

  “I just got told to post for a new position,” she said. “They’ve sold out the lease on the Olympus Dawn and I’ve got twenty-four hours to vacate or apply to the new owner.” She looked at the two glasses on the table, one empty, and one almost full. Without asking, she grabbed Rene’s and swallowed it in a single gulp.

  “So, they told you to leave the Dawn,” Ethan said, his heart falling through his chest and out onto the table. He felt empty. Drained. “They haven’t notified me yet.”

  “They sold it out?” Rene asked. “Not another lease-hold?”

  She shook her head. “The orders say the title is in escrow and the new owner will post for positions once the transfer closes.”

  “I guess that tells me what the decision is.” Walker picked up his empty glass and stared at the bottom. “Then there’s no point in me going home to bed now.”

  Rene’s comm notification chirped in his pocket. Pulling out his thinpad, he glanced at the screen and nodded. “Me too.”

  “Time for another bottle,” Ethan said. This time Rene didn’t stop him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five:

  Ethan didn’t remember getting back to his suite, but somehow, he woke up in a bed. Alone and naked, but not smelling like he’d done anything too embarrassing. That was a relief. Or a disappointment and he wasn’t sure which.

  He didn’t feel too bad until he tried to sit up and the room spun sidewise while his body did end-overs. It was like somebody had put his brain in a blender and then turned off the gravity.

  Obviously, he wasn’t alone although he was alone in the bedroom. He could hear voices coming through the wall. Muffled, but ringing his skull like a bell.

  He heard Angel and maybe her girlfriend of opportunity, but there were others too. Rene? Nuko? He didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  Especially not them.

  They’d have to be leaving to get their stuff off the ship, anyway. Unless they’d posted to the new owner and then… and then, he didn’t want to think about that.

  The memory flood gates opened, and he remembered sitting in the bar when Rene got his repost orders. Pieces of the evening from that moment were all he had, and they flashed back into his mind in waves of self-indulgent pity. He flopped back in the bed and pulled the pillow over his head.

  Maybe if I lay here long enough, they’ll just go away.

  Suffering through the spins again, he closed his eyes and tried to think.

  It was over. Everything was over. His whole life, and everything in it, was done.

  Up until last night, he hadn’t accepted that they’d take his Shipmaster license away for good. He’d held on to the hope that somehow through it all, doing the right thing would have been more important than doing things right.

  But that’s not how it worked. Not in the real world.

  I don’t even know how long they’ll let me stay here, he realized. I’m no longer an officer in CSL service so they might throw me out today. Maybe they’ll let me pay a night or two out of my pocket and I can hang in here long enough to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.

  He had some cred put back, enough for a year if he lived smart, and the threshold disbursements would keep him from ever falling through the cracks, even if he wasn’t smart.

  He laid with his eyes closed on the edge of dozing off as images of places he could go to hide from the crash landing of his life drifted through his mind. In the last three years, he’d been to most of the colony worlds, so he knew about what places would be most likely to fit his needs. The only thing he knew for sure was if he couldn’t fly, he’d want to be as far from the hub worlds as possible.

  No place leaped out at him as being far enough away where he wouldn’t end up being a rock farmer.

  Another wave of grief washed over him as he raged against his own inner demons. By sheer force of will, he pulled his head back out of the fogbank that threatened to swallow him.

  Rolling onto his side, he eased to a vertical position. This time the spins settled a little quicker than before, and he managed to get all the way to a standing position. He couldn’t hear the voices in the other room, so they must be gone. He staggered over to the bedroom console and tapped the screen.

  The chrono said it was 1310.

  That can’t be right. He found his thinpad and confirmed the time. He hadn’t slept past 0600 in years. In fact, he didn’t remember ever seeing the high side of morning from his bed.

  Well, except when he had a warm body in bed with him.

  Looking around the room for his clothes, he saw them folded on a chair beside the door. Whoever got me into bed was neat. Probably Nuko.

  He smiled for a brief moment, but then the bricks of reality rained down on him again. She and Rene were going to have to post to other ships. They would be going their separate ways and he would be looking for work. On the ground somewhere.

  I just have to get through the day, he thought. None of it matters, at this point.

  “I don’t have to figure this all out today,” he said to himself.

  “Good afternoon Captain Walker,” the console’s AI said, detecting his presence from his voice. “You have a message.”

  “Who’s it from?” he asked, annoyed that the computer sounded so cheerful.

  “Sender identity is blocked. It was received from a public data exchange,” it said.

  Blocked? Who blocks their ID?

  Debt collectors and legal advisors, he realized. The first one he could ignore, at least until he had his feet back on the deck. The second one could be a problem.

  Sitting down on the edge of the bed again, he sighed. “Play it.”

  “It is text only. Shall I read it to you?”

  “Sure, go ahead,” he said, looking over at his clothes and deciding he might want to scrub before he got dressed. A hot shower would help get his brain online too.

  The console screen lit up, but the computer read the message aloud. “Priority delivery. Captain Walker please report to 141-260 Promenade-Two, Cochrane Station-One, at 1600 hours today. End.”

  “That’s all there is?” he asked, scratching his head while he leaned forward and read it again. “And there was no sender listed?”

  “Negative,” it said.

  “What is at that address?”

  “Transportation Division, Smythe Biomedical Technologies.”

  “Frak that can’t be good,” he groaned. “I bet CSL chucked me under the lander.”


  “Unable to formulate response,” the AA said.

  “I don’t suppose there’s anything regarding my inquiry?” he asked.

  “Negative.”

  “How about from Nuko and Rene?” he asked. “They were here this morning, weren’t they?”

  “Yes,” it said.

  “Did they say where they were going?”

  “Negative,” it said. “The four other occupants of your suite left several minutes ago and left no message for you.”

  Not even a goodbye. Probably better that way.

  He looked at his folded clothes. A basic duty uniform. Getting up he grabbed it off the chair and walked over to the recycler bin and dropped it down the chute.

  Yah, better that way.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Promenade Two was the upper deck of CS-1 and had huge bands of clear plasglass that arched high overhead and gave a view of the entire old Galileo station and the faint wispy band that was the opposite side of the huge ring. The view was stunning even for someone that had spent a large portion of his adult life traveling through space.

  The only downside to living on the Upper Promenade in Ethan’s mind was it was also where the creds lived. Huge grotesque piles of wealth lay hidden in the Earthlike parks and towers that rose up to, and even in some cases through, the crystal vault that held the world inside.

  He didn’t want to be here, but he knew he had to face the idea that the system wasn’t through chewing on him. He had nothing left to bleed. He hoped that if he could just get past this moment and its probable outcome, he could just walk away.

  Maybe rock farming is a better future for me.

  At least then, he might forget he once rode the stars.

  Stepping off the slidewalk in front of his destination, he stared up at the building. It rose a dozen decks toward the sky above. Standing at the base of the tower, he couldn’t tell for sure if it was one of the spires that penetrated through the enclosure but it seemed likely, since there were several ships docked to what looked like a private stanchion directly over his head.

  Without thinking he sorted the vessels into classes, personal cruisers, private shuttles, and a few freighters. His heart almost ground to a halt when he saw a Percheron Class hauler like the Olympus Dawn docked close to the upper end of the piling.

  Pulling his eyes down, he looked at the deck under his feet and shook his head. “That’s my past,” he said. “And this is my future.”

  Taking a deep breath, he let it out. “Let’s get this over with.” As he stepped toward the front of the building, a scanning beam swept over him, and he paused. The door opened, and a voice came over the audio system. “Welcome to Smythe Transportation Center, Captain Walker. Please come in and someone will be right with you.”

  I’m not a captain anymore, he thought. I’ve got to keep reminding myself of that.

  The inside of the building looked bigger than it had on the outside. He paused to process the view up through the center of the tower and it took him a second to realize that the illusion came from reflective partitions positioned so that they seemed to disappear when you looked directly at them.

  A man appeared in front of one wall and he shook his head. He hadn’t literally appeared, but rather had come around a corner that wasn’t visible. As the man walked across the distance in his direction, Ethan realized that he was massive. Even more imposing than Pruitt, if that was possible.

  He wore an expensive business suit that looked like it strained its structural integrity just to keep his physique contained. “Captain Walker?” the man said. “I’m Jefferson Cordwain. I’ve been asked to attend to your needs until the meeting starts.”

  Jefferson Cordwain. Good name for a legal advisor. I am obviously so foobed here, he thought shaking the man’s hand. “Actually, it’s not captain anymore,” he added.

  Cordwain raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “I wasn’t aware of a change in your status, but regardless, if you’ll follow me please.”

  “Why am I here?” Ethan asked as he followed the man down a more normal looking hallway.

  “I’m not authorized to discuss that,” he said.

  They’d stopped at a door and a biometric scanner swept the man’s outstretched hand. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll let the boss know you’re ready. There is coffee on the table for you, and if you need anything else, the AA will let me know.”

  “Real coffee?” he asked, forgetting for a moment that it felt like his life was about to spin out of control again. “Not pseudojo?”

  “I believe she had them prepare Escobosa Bold for you, although it might be Boa Vista Black,” he said. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ll let her know you’re waiting.”

  A coffee urn sat on a sideboard and other than that and a table with eight chairs around it, there was nothing else in the room. Everything was white on white with a side of white. It felt a bit like he imagined a conference room in a very expensive hospital to be. Sterile and lifeless, but with an edge of luxury.

  He had no idea how long he waited, but he’d just poured his second cup of coffee and returned to the table when the door opened.

  Shaking his head in disbelief and anger, he stood up the instant she walked in.

  Keira Caldwell.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you,” he said, stepping back from the table. “Nothing personal but, well, yeah it’s personal. Thanks for the coffee, but I’ll be leaving now.”

  “Ethan, please. Wait,” she pleaded, stepping around in front of him as he angled for the door.

  He paused and cut back around the opposite direction and accelerated for the exit.

  “I got your Shipmaster certification back,” she said as his hand hit the door plate and it slid open. Cordwain leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the hall, surveying his fingernails. He looked up and shook his head.

  Ethan skidded to a stop, grabbing the door jamb to swing back in Kaycee’s direction. “You did what?”

  “Ethan please, come back in and sit down. Finish your coffee and let’s talk,” she said, nodding at the chair at the end of the table and sliding his cup toward it. “If I haven’t convinced you to hear me out by the time you’ve finished it, you’re free to go.”

  He stepped back inside the room and set his feet. The door slid closed behind him. He crossed his arms, he glared. “Let’s start with what you just said. You got my licenses back?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding as she turned and poured herself a cup.

  He still hadn’t moved when she turned back around. “Please sit down and I’ll explain,” she said. “There are a few things I haven’t been entirely honest about, and when I realized how things were playing out, I had to make it right.”

  “Just get to the part where you explain how you got the tribunal to lift the suspension,” he said, sitting down and picking up his coffee. “And you better talk fast because this is a small cup.

  “I went to the public hearing and spoke on your behalf,” she said. “I’m pretty persuasive when I want to be. And it helps that CSL earns a fair portion of its revenue from Smythe.”

  “So, you got Smythe to use their influence to swing the decision?”

  “You could say that,” she said, pulling a thinpad out of her pocket and tossing it onto the table in front of him.

  He looked at it but didn’t touch it. “What’s that?”

  “My ID. Look at it.”

  He set the cup down. Half empty. Dragging the thinpad in front of him, he glanced at it and shrugged.

  “Read it.” she said.

  Smythe-Caldwell, Keira Jayne, MD. PhD. STIF.

  “Smythe-Caldwell?” he asked.

  She grinned. “My legal name has one of those snob hyphens in it, so I choose to forget the Smythe when I introduce myself.”

  He nodded realizing he’d been right all along. They didn’t breathe the same air.

  “Ever hear of Charles Alexander Smythe?”

  “The first Chancello
r of the Coalition? He started this company, didn’t he?”

  “Yah. His son married my mother. It just makes my life easier if I use her name most of the time,” she said. “Unless of course I need to pull in a favor, and then it’s all in the name.”

  “So, you leaned on them and got them to change direction on pulling my ticket,” he said. He picked his cup up and took another big sip. “Thanks, but with a black mark like I’ve got, even with a license, nobody will hire me. CSL sold my ship out from under me and a corporate cargo company won’t even look in my direction. I’ve got no ship, and no prospects.”

  “Yah, about that,” she pulled the thinpad back across the table in her direction and thumbed the screen forward. “Turns out I own a ship and I’m looking for a captain.”

  “You own a ship?” he said.

  “I do now.” she said, nodding. “I just bought one.”

  “I’m not a yacht driver,” he said, shaking his head and taking another sip of coffee. He glanced into the cup. One more sip and he was done.

  “I know,” she said.” She pushed the thinpad back to him. The title and registration for a ship was on the screen.

  He scanned over the documents and stopped when he got to the registration numbers, blinking several times before he shook his head. “What the frak is going on here?”

  “I bought the Olympus Dawn.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ethan swallowed the last of his coffee and pushed back from the table. Shaking his head, he frowned. “Sorry, something is twisty here.”

  “No, it’s clean,” she said. “I closed on it yesterday before your hearing.”

  “I’m sure you did, but I’m even more sure there is something stinking in the boiler room.” He stood up.

  “I wanted to make sure I saved your ship for you,” she said.

  Her eyes looked like she was serious, but it was too far from believable to be true. “Why did you do that?” he asked, leaning forward and picking up the thinpad again to scan it.