Pixie Hazard

by Archibald Bradford

  He laughed and shook his head.

  “No, I mean, yeah, anything to do with plants is botany. As for the sunlight, that’s easy: UV emitting diodes strung above the plots. As far as I know it isn’t uncommon for ships to have their own gardens like that.”

  “On bigger vessels, sure.” Eniella said as she sidled past them to fetch a drink from the refrigeration unit; “But the Pixie doesn’t have that much space to spare. Except in the cargo-hold I guess, next to the skipper’s bike.”

  Bryan was drumming his fingers on the counter, making mental calculations as to how to maximize output while minimizing the area needed.

  Finally he looked to Eniella who was absently stroking Bunny’s tail as she sipped at her beverage.

  “How much space do you have to work with?” He finally asked.

  __________

  Following a chaperoned visit to the Pixie’s cargo-hold with a curious Eniella and an eager Bunny, Bryan had everything he needed.

  He had made a decision: he would let his family know that he was alright, but he wasn’t ready for the adventure to be over. He didn’t know what was going to happen in the long run, but at least this was something he might be able to control.

  Constant sex had a way of making teenagers stupid like that.

  After dinner that night, Bryan was showing the captain what he believed he could do for her.

  He had drawn a chalk diagram on the floor to outline the minimal amount of space that he would need for a simple yet efficient grow-op in one corner of the cargo-hold.

  “By maximizing space stacking the planters within this area, and by using the right kind of infused fertilizer, I would be able to grow enough vegetables to sustainably supplement the crew’s diet. Possibly even enough to trade in small amounts, Bunny told me how much spacers value fresh produce.”

  She nodded; he was doing well so far, and the space he was asking for was negligible in the big picture, the Pixie’s cargo-hold never having been filled to capacity since she had bought her.

  Emboldened, he continued his pitch.

  “I’ve already priced everything I’d need from the Dungeness site, and factoring your veteran’s discount the whole setup would only cost seven hundred and sixty deks, plus the time to put everything together. After that it would just be maintenance expenses and fertilizer, which should be less than a hundred deks a month.”

  There was a long silence as she scratched at her chin, doing the math in her head as to just how much money she could potentially save.

  Finally she sighed.

  She’d listened to his idea, and was actually pretty impressed by how well he articulated it, but in the end she shook her head at him.

  There was simply no getting past his age.

  If Kyle or Bunny landed in trouble somehow with horny locals they at least had the sense to get out of the way and let the marines deal with the fallout.

  Donnie and her crew got into way too many firefights to have a completely green civilian like this kid tagging along.

  His face fell as he read everything in her expression.

  “Sorry Bryan, it is a good idea, and if you were even five years older I might have said yes, but I don’t want your death on my conscious because you don’t know when to duck.”

  “I-I could learn.” He said disconsolately, knowing the words wouldn’t sway here.

  “You could. But not on this ship. We’ll be dropping you on Lewanna like we talked about. I’m sorry kid.”

  He turned his face away and wiped at sudden hot tears, but though she felt bad seeing him break down the fact that he got so emotional from this kind of bad news only made her more certain of her decision.

  Her main worry now was Maria; Donnie wasn’t blind, or deaf for that matter.

  She had known that the kid was besotted; it was inevitable given Maria’s personality, but she had also noticed just how bright the blonde’s smile had been the last few days.

  Donnie suspected that she had gotten a lot more attached than she originally thought.

  Shaking off the troubling notion, she activated her coms.

  “Alright people, it’s about time we buttoned up for the night. We’ll stay for one more day to see about offloading the transport, after that we’re gone.”

  Chapter 25:

  Over Bao

  With the supplies delivered the previous day and no word yet from her contacts, Donnie had a moment to call her own, so the captain stopped at a favorite noodle bar on the station for lunch, sitting on a high stool with her face over her bowl as she slurped up the homey meal.

  She savoured the peace and quiet almost as much as the noodles, since mealtimes aboard the Pixie were always a hectic affair.

  Sadly her peace didn’t last long before it was interrupted by a familiar, and most unwelcome, voice.

  “Hello Captain Nelson. Scuttlebutt on the station is that you have a ship for sale.”

  Donnie looked over to see a portly man leaning against the bar next to her. He was wearing a three piece suit that stood at odds with the quaint noodle bar, with a couple of equally well-dressed flunkies at his back.

  She considered the deceptively affable face of Jonathan Demarco for all of two seconds before turning back to her noodles.

  “Word is that you can fuck right off.”

  The crime-lord stretched his arms out to either side, as if to say: what did I do?

  “Not very diplomatic of you Captain, but I can understand your frustration. May I join you? Mister Ling makes the most wonderful bao, you must try one if you haven’t already.”

  Without being told to do so, the old man behind the counter set a plate in the space next to Donnie’s with a pair of steamed buns on it as Demarco sidled up to her.

  “By all means, sit.” She muttered, though her eyes were more focused on the two men with him.

  Her hackles were up as one of them was standing slightly too close to her back.

  Demarco nudged the plate towards her invitingly, but all he received in return was an icy stare.

  He sighed in disappointment, but was otherwise undeterred.

  “If you won’t eat with me, I’m hoping that you’ll at least hear me out.”

  “I’d sooner listen to that yahoo in the docking bay, preaching about returning to his magical victory garden.”

  He chuckled at her insulting words, brushing them off easily.

  “Ah yes. ‘Abraham goeth! And with him, his children!’ New gospels, chapter seven, verse three I believe. A wonderful segue into what I wish to discuss actually.”

  Seeing that she was still on the defensive due to the proximity of his bodyguards he waved them to sit in a booth opposite the bar before tucking into his bao.

  “You never struck me as the religious sort.” Donnie observed as she got her personal space back.

  Demarco had to take a moment to chew and swallow before he could answer her, though he made a point of wiping his face with a disposable napkin before he spoke.

  “Not in the least! But the subject fascinates me. How much do you know about the formation of The Coalition of Abraham?”

  “About as much as you know about social cues.” She said under her breath.

  Fully aware of the power that Demarco wielded on Mung Station, she resigned herself to the conversation.

  Didn’t mean she had to like it.

  “Where to begin... ah yes, as with many things we must begin at the end.”

  Given that he’d missed the last one, Donnie bit back another snide comment.

  “After they perpetrated the Islamic Genocide, the Scientological Cabal were rounded up and summarily disposed of by the United Nations, this was before The Dissolution of course. There was little sympathy for them: no matter how personable their spokesman was, snuffing out two billion lives is a hard sell.”

  “Is there going to be a point to this history lesson?”

  “I’m getting there. But you mustn’t derail me! Although Mister Ling already has, you’ve outdon
e yourself sir.” The old Asian man behind the counter bowed with a toothy smile as Demarco took another bite of his steamed bun, again taking the time to ensure that his table-manners were impeccable before continuing the lecture; “While all of the celebrity scientologists were being strung up by their tender bits, Christianity folded in on itself under the weight of its own hypocrisy. With the advent of interstellar travel and the discovery of life on other worlds the supremely limited perspective of their bible could no longer be ignored.”

  “Fascinating.” Donnie crossed her arms over her breasts impatiently.

  He waved at her with his chopsticks to still her.

  “Now now! Where was I?” He tapped his chin with his napkin as he regained his train of thought; “Ah yes! The Coalition. So the survivors of Islam and the remaining followers of the other Abrahamic traditions banded together in one last bid of mental gymnastics to make their various holy books fit to the new reality.”

  By this point Donnie was gritting her teeth more than slightly.

  “Still bored.” She muttered, but he kept talking over her.

  “And thus ‘The Coalition of Abraham’ was born!” He sat back in his stool and waved his arms out grandly for a moment; “Though stillborn would be the more appropriate term given the tepid reaction from the masses.”

  She quirked an eyebrow at his exuberance.

  “Yet every station seems to have at least one nutter on it who thinks that the entirety of the universe was created for the exclusive use of one species.”

  “And they wonder why they haven’t converted a single non-terran.” Demarco chuckled; “Yes, their attempt at converting K’or-Macka was... laughable.”

  “Their entire delegation renounced their faith in favour of kitty poon?” Donnie guessed with a snort.

  “That is the long and short of it.”

  “The long of it, as it turns out. You still haven’t gotten to your point.”

  Finished with his first bao, and the bulk of his history lesson, he turned in his stool to face her directly.

  “The point, my dear captain, is that no single-species religion could survive the advent of interstellar travel. Not without becoming truly insular and xenophobic. Which is hardly a productive mindset to take with you to the stars.”

  He paused for a moment to ensure she heard every word, then turned back to take a long drink from the glass Mister Ling placed in front of him.

  It took an effort of will for her not to grab him and shake him, as it was Donnie shifted in her own seat impatiently.

  “Maybe I wasn’t clear. What does any of this have to do with me?”

  Fingering with the condensation coming off of his glass, Demarco looked slightly pained at her continued directness; he abhorred poor manners, considering himself to be a charming and worldly man.

  But Donnie never failed to see the venom in his velvet and he knew it.

  With a regretful sigh he turned in his stool once more, hands clasped and one elbow resting on the counter as he looked her straight in the eye to make himself clear.

  “Despite the old adage, history doesn’t repeat itself, but there are certain patterns. These days, you and your crew are a bit too... insular and xenophobic.”

  Realization struck and she groaned and all but face-palmed.

  “Holy shit. Did you seriously just make that entire speech so that you could tell me that I need to learn to play well with others?”

  By the time she finished she had likewise turned in her stool so that their knees were nearly touching.

  “That, and to remind you that your old life is done, Major Nelson. These days you’re just another scrapper running one of a thousand ships that come through my station. Or I suppose it is two ships now. In any case, it would be good for you to have a friend here. Other than Mister Ling, of course.”

  “I think maybe you need to be reminded that it was you and not me that dropped our last deal in the shitter, leaving me and my crew twisting in the solar winds.”

  He winced at her phrasing.

  “A regrettable occurrence, but hardly a personal one. I would like for us to move past it.”

  Her feet slid to the floor and she prepared to leave, more that finished with his lecturing.

  “And here I thought I was one of a thousand.”

  Despite her biting words, his earlier charm returned in full force as he smiled broadly at her.

  “Oh no my dear: you are one in a million.”

  She took the compliment for the horseshit that it was, glaring at the unwelcome man as she got in another dig.

  “You offering me another job or trying to get in my pants? Because neither one is happening.”

  His smile fell away and his words became cold, impatient.

  Direct.

  “It was just business. Deals fall through all the time. Let’s be professional about this.”

  “Not when I make them. And you and I have a very different idea of what professional means. Now unless those two idiots want to get hurt, you should probably give a tug on their leashes.”

  As the tension mounted between their boss and Donnie, his bodyguards had stood from their booth and edged closer to the potential conflict.

  Demarco gave her an appraising look, before waving his fingers at his men with some irritation until they reluctantly withdrew their hands from their hidden weapons.

  “How about we do this then?” He shook off the sudden sourness of their dialogue and clapped his hands together to signify his intention to get to business; “I will pay you a cancellation fee for our previous contract. Surely that would smooth things over between us?”

  The wary captain frowned at the uncharacteristically generous offer.

  “It might, but why would you do that? A slightly used transport isn’t exactly a rarity.”

  “Oh I never wanted the ship. I’m told you took on a passenger around Kentis.”

  If her hackles were up before, now she was downright alarmed as she was forced to navigate treacherous waters without a map.

  Or a boat.

  To her credit, she showed nothing on her face.

  “A passenger? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “A young botany technician, formerly a guest of the Iowa Clan? Ringing any bells?”

  Again she kept her expression neutral, with a hint of genuine confusion at what a genial crime-lord would want with a teenage farm boy.

  Demarco smiled that dangerous smile of his as he gleaned more than she wanted from her reaction.

  “I’ll give you ten thousand deks to help smooth out any negative feelings left over from our earlier deal. Then say, another thirty for the boy? I can even help you find a buyer for your new ship if you like, waiving my usual commission.”

  “Forty thousand deks, for one kid. Seriously?”

  His smile widened as he quirked one eyebrow.

  “Not a bad finder’s fee for something you already have.”

  Unwilling to give up anything more, but also wanting to get out of the restaurant without having to kill Demarco’s bodyguards, Donnie pretended to think about it for a few moments.

  Finally she stood up and swiped her pay-chit over the sensor on the counter for Mister Ling.

  “Start looking for a buyer for the ship. I’ll be in touch about the rest.”

  “Splendid! You... do have the boy though, don’t you?” He asked delicately.

  She gave him an exasperated look.

  Did he think she was that stupid?

  “Maybe, or maybe I simply know where he is. In either case, you won’t be cutting me out of anything again.”

  He chuckled and raised his hands in surrender.

  “Fair enough Captain Nelson. I’ll be eagerly waiting on your call.” He turned back towards the bar; “Now, Mister Ling, you must tell me your secret! Ancient family recipe from Old Earth?”

  Donnie scooped her jacket off the back of the chair and ducked out onto the promenade, shaking her head at his overly fawning interest
in the old man’s cooking: the steamed buns were good but they weren’t that good.

  Once on the promenade she commed her first mate without delay.

  “Billy, get everyone back on the ship, now. Demarco is making a play for Bryan.”

  “Bryan? Wha-”

  “I’ll explain later. Lock our shit down.”

  Maybe Demarco would stick to the deal they just made, but she doubted it. Forty thousand deks just to keep her happy was a little too generous for her to take his word at face value.

  The man was largely full of shit, but the part about her operating one ship out of a thousand was all too true.

  That and she was feeling a familiar itch between her shoulder blades that told her someone nearby intended her harm.

  She walked swiftly through the curving promenade, slipping past people deftly before abruptly kiting to one side and down a narrow corridor that led into the central ring of the station.

  When the two thugs rounded the corner in a half run to catch up with her, she met them head on, almost causing them to trip over their feet to avoid slamming into her.

  These weren’t Demarco’s fancy bodyguards: these were proper station trash, and they looked mean as rats.

  Donnie was meaner.

  She greeted the first one with the heel of her palm to his solar plexus, causing him to double over wheezing. Then, before his friend could stop her, she gripped him by the hair and wrenched his face down to collide with her knee.

  She felt his nose break, and quickly deduced that she’d knocked every bit of fight out of him when he slumped to the floor.

  A wild haymaker from his buddy caught her in the ear but she got her arm up in time to blunt the worst of it, her ear both numb and stinging but her faculties undamaged.

  To limit his options she ducked further into the narrow space, forcing him to step over his injured friend in a bid to reach her. She read some hesitation on her assailant’s features now that he was fighting alone, so she felt the need to keep him invested.

  With a cheeky shrug and a wink, she brought her fists up in a pair of rude gestures.

  “Just you and me now princess.”