Fixer

by Ryan Vermont

  “Oh, I get it," I called back. “You want me to hand the Byzantium over to you and we’ll be killed later. Sorry, I didn’t learn surrender. Maybe you did at your academy, but it was never an option at mine.” The last was true. No Janissary had ever surrendered in the 2,000 years of the Sultanate. It fell before its last slave soldier did.

  “Still the insolent Terran, I see,” the commander sniped. “I’d hoped you could see the logic in letting us board without problems, but, no, you want to act brave. Fine, we’ll see what brave gets you when I send the rest of my marines in there to haul you back.” The image vanished.

  “What are you going to do now, Fixer?” Drez demanded. “I told you that was a stupid thing to do.”

  I wasn’t surprised they’d turned around and come back for us once the kids were gone. I’d expected it. At least we had the ship operational. Things were bad enough with the Irunians coming back, but they had identified us, and the empire would soon know that we worked for Korth and the family. But we still had the ship.

  “The AI did say it could engage in combat, didn’t it?” I spoke to Drez. I turned around to the screen. “You are authorized to initiate hostile responses, correct?”

  “I am allowed to defend this ship with all weapons available,” it replied. “So long as you grant me the authority. Do you wish me to engage in warfighting if we are attacked?”

  I had a thought. “Do you have a name of some type?” I asked the AI. “I feel a bit uncomfortable talking to a disembodied voice.”

  “You may call me any name you like,” it responded. “Save one. You may not call me Alex. That designation is forbidden.”

  “Why the hell not?” Drez demanded.

  I didn’t want to draw the conversation out. The Ghostmaker was moving into docking range. Soon, we would have a mess to deal with when those marines reentered the ship. I needed to get this thing up and running fast.

  “Alex was the name of the boyfriend of my designer,” it spoke. “The one stipulation on my usage was that no one was ever to be allowed to call me by that name.”

  “Hah!” Drez laughed. “I knew this thing was built on Earth. They might’ve tried to make it look strange, but now, we know the truth.”

  “I am not allowed to tell you any more about the builders of the Byzantium,” it interjected. “Three questions in a row as to the origin of this ship will force me to cease all operations for a period of three hours. Your question about the name counted as the first one.”

  “We don’t care where the ship came from,” I cut in, one eye on the screen that showed the docking port extending from the Ghostmaker. “Can you allow us to guide the weapon systems on this ship?”

  “Of course,” it responded. “Any names you had in mind to call me, save that one?”

  I thought for three seconds and came up with an old one that popped into my brain. “Sothos,” I said. “You are to be called Sothos.”

  There was a pause. “I am Sothos,” the AI responded. “I do need names for you two so that I can differentiate.”

  “I’m Fixer,” I told Sothos. “He’s Spinesnatcher.” Best to go with nicknames in this situation.

  “That is fine, Fixer,” Sothos replied. “Are you ready for me to begin countermeasures? The ships around us haven’t begun hostile activity yet, but it appears one of them is about to begin boarding procedures.”

  “Yes," I let it know. “Give me some options as to what to do with the nearest ship.”

  Instantly, a schematic of a chain cannon appeared over the console. It rotated around to let us see what kind of ammunition it carried and the range it was best used at. I selected some armor-piercing shells and had Sothos load the weapon, which was part of an array fixed to the near side of the ship.

  I looked over at Drez and wondered how our paths had crossed so many years ago.

  I’d been on Nyx Station three days when someone suggested I should go over to the local labor hall and see about work. I was short on cash and knew that there wasn’t much work for a former soldier unless you were willing to take up your former trade. I’d had it with the adrenaline rush that accompanied the charge across the battlefield while bombs rained down from the sky. Now, with the war winding down between the Sultanate and Irunian Empire, I wasn’t so worried about being fingered as a former point man for a squad of butchers. The Sultanate was finished. No one expected it to survive the final battle underway outside Katnzar. There were rumors the empire might offer amnesty to any former soldier in the sultan’s army who surrendered and turned in his weapon.

  I walked down to the labor hall from the rooming house where I’d stayed since arriving at Nyx. The rooming house wasn’t much. It was run as a crash pad for a group of Rum Travelers who operated out of the upper levels. I’m not sure what they did, but it caused the place to swell to capacity with cousins, uncles, and various relatives burdened down with merchandise every other week. I suspected they were fencing stolen goods to the great and the good on the surface and needed a place to hide out whenever the heat was on them.

  The line at the labor hall was long that day. I looked up and saw the light go dim in the cavern over us. The builders of Nyx made sure every level had a simulation of a 24-hour day, which was odd since we were about as far as could be from any sun. Nyx floated free between systems and, given its mass, would continue to do so for the near future.

  “You wasting your time going to that place, Yoldash,” I heard a voice say next to me.

  I spun around to the source, one hand on the pistol inside my jacket. Someone had used the Janissary term for comrade. We only talked that way among each other, which meant there was another former Janissary on the run (unlikely), or someone knew who I was (more likely). If it was the former, they might be ready to kill me.

  I froze as the blue face of Drez faced mine.

  “Looking for a job, soldier boy?” he asked me. “I know someone who could use a man with a military background.”

  “I’m waiting for that authorization,” Sothos asked me. I blinked and returned to the real world.

  “Take out the coupling,” I informed the AI, “then open that comm again. I want a word with our dear commander.”

  I watched from the targeting mode on the chain cannon as it swung in the direction of the coupling that the destroyer had extended toward the dock. It was over in a few seconds as the cannon fired a series of HE shells that reduced the connection to fragments. The docking would have to wait.

  “That was very stupid,” the angry face of the commander snarled at me. “You could have made this simple and lived. Now, we’ll have to take possession of that ship the hard way. This is your final opportunity to surrender and survive.”

  “And this is your only chance to avoid an embarrassing report to your superiors,” I told him. “Get out of the way, or face the consequences.”

  His screen went blank.

  “Sothos," I told the AI, "I want you to take us to Nyx Station with all due haste. You will respond to Drez for targets of opportunity. I give you the authorization.”

  “Just had to let it know you could pull rank. . .” I heard Drez grumble.

  “It needs some guidance,” I said. “Might as well be me who gives it.”

  I could feel the plasma engines of the Byzantium cycle up as the massive starship began to move into position opposite the squadron of Irunian ships. The panels in front of me changed color several times, and several screens materialized around me to show what we were up against. Drez could see them as well.

  “Corvette on the left is moving at us,” I pointed out.

  “I say hit it before it hits us,” Drez called out.

  “Good idea,” I approved. ”Sothos, use one of those Starstreamer missiles on it. Two in the middle should do the job.”

  I watched as the undercarriage of the Byzantium unleashed two deadly packets of metal at the corvette in question. It tried to move out of the path of the missiles, but the propulsion units of the corvette were blown
free by two direct hits. Scratch one off the list of what the commander had to play with.

  “Prepare for acceleration,” Sothos spoke. “I suggest both of you use the chairs on the far bulkhead.

  Having been through this before, I knew what was about to take place. So did Drez.

  Seconds later, we were strapped into place. I wished there was enough time to remove those dead bodies, because they were going to get smashed on the bulkhead when those plasma engines fired.

  “Do you wish me to dispose of the dead?” Sothos asked. “Their presence in here will complicate matters.”

  “Yes," I told the AI. “And quick.”

  I’d wanted to keep them around in case it would help with the identification later. Besides, there was always the decent matter of respect for the dead, no matter how they got that way. But right now, we didn’t have any other options.

  “Done," I was told.

  I glanced back to see what happened, but the bodies and blood were gone. I had no idea how the AI removed them, but I didn’t have time to ask.

  “Plasma ignition in five seconds,” Sothos spoke. “Four, three...”

  “That destroyer,” Drez pointed out as he stared at the screen over us, “it’s going to fire!”

  “Which weapon system should I employ?” Sothos asked. “Holding launch until you give me authorization.”

  “Quantum laser,” I called out. “Do it now!”

  I watched as an entire section of the destroyer was sliced off by the precise action of the laser. Whoever built this ship made certain it had plenty of power to back it up. Commander Peshawar had made a bad decision.

  “Destroyer inoperative,” Sothos informed us. “Should I resume plasma engine firing?”

  “Yes!" I cried. “Get our asses out of here and to Nyx Station.”

  “Three, two, one...” I heard the voice of the AI count.

  I was slammed into the back of the chair as a series of restraints worked hard to keep me in place. The ship vibrated from the massive force generated by the engines of the Byzantium. It was a quick acceleration as there was nothing to hold it back. I watched the receding forms of the Irunian ships as our starship raced into the universe.

  Then I blacked out.

  I came to after the Byzantium made the trip through the nearest wormhole back to the station. I suspected the AI could’ve used the plasma engines to take it all the way home without making a jump. But that would’ve involved a long trip, and we needed to get back to Nyx in a hurry.

  “You are safely on course to Nyx Station and will arrive in its territory in four hours,” Sothos informed us as the restraints detached us from the chairs. Both Drez and I managed to stand up and feel the dizziness from the rapid acceleration disappear from our bodies.

  “How long were we out?” I asked Sothos.

  “Twelve hours,” it responded. “I found it advisable to turn on the stasis fields around your forms after we’d reached three standard Terran gravities. I didn’t think your physical forms would survive them.”

  “How many gravities did this ship reach?” Drez asked.

  “Twenty," Sothos responded, "but only for four hours. I slowed it down to 12 for the jump.”

  We looked up at the image of Nyx Station in the screen that floated above the deck. It had to be an enlargement; we couldn’t be that close. We were almost back to our destination.

  “Well, at least we escaped,” Drez brought up. “And still have the ship.”

  I walked around and looked at the instruments on the panels around us. Weird that the AI could handle this starship with so little help from its human handlers. It didn’t make a lot of sense for this ship to even have a massive central control room if it wasn’t needed. Sothos had taken us out of a very bad situation with minimal input from either Drez or me.

  I was tempted to ask it about the presence of the Angelika kids but decided otherwise. The AI oversaw the starship and, thereby, our survival. It wouldn’t talk about its origin. I doubted it would tell us anything about the command crew that committed suicide the moment we encountered them.

  Drez was busy checking over the panels too. There wasn’t much we could do other than hope Korth came through on his end when we reached Nyx space. There was supposed to be a call sign we could furnish the militia with once we came into their range. No way would the Nyx militia allow an unregistered ship to enter its domain. Someone was paid to allow us through and down to the lower level docks, where Korth could take possession of the starship.

  “I hope Boss Korth has enough room on his part of the docks to store this thing,” I spoke as I watched the screen. “He’ll need plenty of room this time. This isn’t like boosting a small shuttle.”

  “We’ve already violated so many of his directives,” Drez spoke, “that he’ll be pissed three ways from last week. At least those damn Irunians don’t know we’re connected to the Cinzar family.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” I spoke. “All manner of ways they can find out who we’re with. The empire won’t take it lightly, I can promise you that. We blew through their blockade and made that stiff-necked commander look bad. He’ll have to find us unless he wants a demotion or worse. Yeah, I think we may have fucked with the wrong assholes.”

  Chapter Four

  The sentry satellites picked us up the moment we came into their range.

  “Unidentified starship, do not proceed further,” the voice of some border guard spoke over the comm. “Please give us the call sign of the day before you attempt to enter our zone of authority.” It all sounded so mock and authoritarian, but we didn’t want trouble. The ship might be able to rip its way down to the station, but what good would that do anyone?

  “Let’s have it," I spoke to Drez, who was lounging in one of the acceleration chairs. “That code better work, or Korth doesn’t get his big toy.”

  Drez sighed and walked over to the screen. Although I had Sothos scramble our image, the one from the border patrol showed a young humanoid in the uniform of the Nyx Militia. He appeared to be bored. Smugglers and the like must be a routine intrusion in his line of work. No way were the good Fathers of the trade council about to let anyone make profit off Nyx unless they got their cut.

  This time, I held up a piece of paper to the screen and made sure it had contact to the surface. The militiaman on the other end stared at it, then became excited.

  “Just a minute,” he said. “Don’t approach any further, or you will be fired upon.”

  By what? I thought. Some antique missile launcher?

  Seconds later, the face reappeared. “I’ll transmit your directions to the docks on level 12. You are cleared for descent. Be sure you check in with the harbormaster after you’ve arrived. You’ll need to file all the forms and be available for the customs inspection.”

  I thanked him, then made sure that Sothos had all the information it needed. “Take us down to wherever they send us,” I instructed.

  “Following,” Sothos told me. “The navigational satellites are opening a way for us.”

  It didn’t take long. The Byzantium made it to the lower docks in a half hour. Without an atmosphere to navigate across, the trip didn’t take much time. Drez and I watched the descent down to the lower section of the hollowed-out asteroid, past some of the higher sections where you could see actual pleasure gardens through the crystal that separated them from the vacuum of space. The passages to the docks were kept unpressurized until you reached the final level, where a large series of locks were arranged to keep the breathable part of Nyx inside the station. I don’t know how it all works, but it does. Most of my experience is with things that kill people at a distance.

  Once we had the Byzantium into the slot the harbor people gave us, all we needed to do was walk away from it. I told Sothos that we we’d done our job and that he could deal with whoever took possession of the ship. A few minutes later, Drez and I strode away from the parked starship.

  We walked out across the platform to the
customs office and warehouses that lined the docks of Nyx. So far, there was no one to greet us.

  “Usually, there’s someone,” I mentioned. We stopped and looked around. Plenty of activity near the shuttles and cargo ships around us, but nothing where we stood. The Byzantium was hard to miss. It was twice the size of any other ship and still had our tug shuttle attached to it. I again thought about how thankful I was that the trip back had been a lot faster than the one to the starship. The shuttle we’d taken had needed a solid week to reach its destination, because it wasn’t capable of making the jump across space.

  “I guess Korth took care of it all,” I spoke to Drez. “I’m going home.” I started to walk away. No need for complicated goodbyes between the two of us. Our relationship was now over unless Korth wanted us for another special job or Drez decided to make another run at me.

  I didn’t think he’d try anything stupid against me now that we were back on the station.

  I was wrong.

  “Tell Miss Precious that I said hello,” Drez called back to me as he walked in the other direction. “And don’t let her wear you out in case the boss wants a word with you later.”

  I stiffened up and almost turned around. He wanted me to do that, of course. A fight at the docks between anyone was grounds for exile from Nyx. He’d have liked to claim an unprovoked attack.

  I didn’t say a word and continued on my way.

  She was already waiting for me at my apartment. Too bad I wasn’t in a better mood. This job had taken me out of the loop for the past two weeks. Preparation was a bear, and the trip was a bore. I was ready for her and needed those soft thighs wrapped around my neck. This is why I held my tongue when Drez made his remark.

  I unlocked the door to my apartment and walked in. I tossed my bag in the closet, same as my jacket. I was tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep. I’d changed from my exosuit to my street clothes at a locker on the docks.

  My neighborhood is not one of the better ones. It was carved out of the void inside the asteroid when the trading council first found it several hundred years ago. The Fathers had located it first and established claim on Nyx long before any of the local jurisdictions began to expand their areas of influence. It was far enough away from any system not to be a threat, yet close enough to the trade lanes to be a stop and refueling point for any variety of commercial vessels.