Ion Trail 21: Free as a Bird

The response I got when I called a crew meeting to discuss this most important issue was, shall we say, enthusiastic. I received several unexpected hugs when I relayed the news that I was no longer officially dead and that soon I would own the ship free and clear. I was just glad that the bank didn’t freeze my account; bureaucracy is good for something, I guess. But when I explained the need for a name, things got serious.

“The ‘Loose Tuna’!” I stared at Clinton, confused. He grinned and waved his hands dramatically. “We’re a small fish, adrift in a vast, dark ocean!”

“Maybe the ‘Honey Badger’,” suggested Harper. “Tougher than they look.” I nodded at the suggestion, but Omar was already chiming in.

“What about ‘Independence’?” he said. “You were telling me that’s what a ship always represented to you.”

“That’s solid,” Clinton said, giving the other man a smile, “but there are probably several dozen small freighters running around using that name for the same reason.” Omar started to respond, but another suggestion cut him off.

“’Finder’s Fee!’” exclaimed Shanna. “Didn’t you say that’s what Admiral Clarke called it?”

“Hey, that’s actually a really nice suggestion,” Diaz replied. “But I was thinking maybe something to reference where you came from, like ‘Tin Can’ or something.” I frowned thoughtfully at that one; it was a good suggestion, but problematic for me in a few ways, and didn’t really represent the crew as a whole.

“What did you want to name your ship before all of this happened?” Sister Estrada asked. Everyone quieted briefly to hear my answer.

“When I eventually got clear of Grey Dwarf, you mean?” I asked. I’d actually put a lot of thought into it. “I wanted to name my ship ‘Solitude’, because that’s what it represented to me. Doesn’t seem really appropriate with this rowdy bunch, though.” There were a few smiles and nods of agreement.

“’Serenity.’” I looked up to see that Janice had pushed forward, looking at me intently.

“That’s… a surprisingly good suggestion,” I responded cautiously.

“It’s the name of a ship in one of my favorite classic vids,” she explained, kind of defensively. “It’s about a small freighter crewed by a band of misfits who take odd jobs and get into trouble.”

“Ah. That’s maybe a little too on the nose,” I said. “Plus, I’m sure that there are dozens of ships out there that have already borrowed the name, too.”

“’Ataraxis’?” she countered instantly; she must have had this one on deck in case her first suggestion was rejected.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means, uh,” she paused and glared at me.

“It means ‘serenity’” Sister Estrada supplied with a smile. Janice transferred her glare to the priestess, who returned it with the same unflappable calm that she did almost everything.

“Did you have any thoughts, Captain?” Diaz asked me.

“Well, I wanted something that kind of reflects who we are, and how we got here,” I said.

“’Untied Albacore’!” Clinton interjected; my eyeroll just set him to laughing again.

“How about ‘That Awkward Moment’?” Diaz suggested with a grin.

“Uh. What?” I was confused again.

“You know! That awkward moment when you dumped an alien corpse on the floor of the Commandant’s lobby!”

“Oh,” I said, blushing at the memory. “Anyway, it wasn’t an alien! Ask Lorna!” I looked at her for support, but the older woman just raised her hands in a ‘keep me out of this’ gesture. I spluttered as Diaz roared in laughter, and I punched him in the shoulder.

“What about ‘Kestrel’?” Omar supplied. “Or ‘Fugitive’?”

“The ‘Witness’?” Sister Estrada said, putting in her first actual suggestion.

“Too passive,” disagreed Shanna with a smile at the older woman. “This crew kicks too much ass.”

“’Hostile Witness’, maybe,” Diaz agreed.

“Wait, what?” I said.

“You like that one?” he replied, surprised.

“’Hostile Witness’,” I said, trying it out. I glanced around to see other reactions. Diaz and Shanna were both nodding enthusiastically, Sister Estrada and Harper were more reserved in their agreement, and Janice just looked bored. Clinton had a goofy grin on his face, and I cut him off before he could get started.

“I swear if you suggest another fish name, I’ll space you right now.” I shook my finger at him for emphasis.

“Aw, Cap’,” he replied with a laugh, completely unrepentant.

“Any objections to ‘Hostile Witness’?” I asked, looking around again. “I think I like that one.” When no one spoke up in opposition, I nodded firmly. “Great,” I said. “Time to go make this official.”

=+=

It was another four grueling days of waiting, filling out paperwork and answering repetitive questions. As it turned out, several members of my crew had also been declared dead, so I wasn’t alone going through the process, though I also had to deal with Grey Dwarf’s insurance company. Fortunately Admiral Clarke was true to his word, and despite some nerves near the beginning, it was all just formalities; tedious, annoying formalities. He’d also interceded with Grey Dwarf, claiming that my contract had been overtaken by the Terran Union and I no longer owed anything to them. This last part made me nervous until his aide had gotten back to me with assurances, in writing, that I owed nothing further to the TU. When I expressed skepticism, the aide confided that it wasn’t normally the TU’s way to let go of promising assets, but Admiral Clarke had a way of doing what he wanted more often than was really proper. My grudging gratitude and respect for the man only increased after talking to the aide.

After the last day of processing I took my crew out and we all got well and truly drunk; well, most of us. Even Sister Estrada indulged in a drink, but only one. Janice joined us too, though I’d tried at first to tell her she was too young. She just glared at me until I relented; teenager or not, she’d been through the shit right alongside us, and she deserved to celebrate too. Tomorrow Shanna and I would go over cargo prospects and then we’d be clear of Terra Primus shortly after that, so it was a cause worth celebrating; and oh, did we celebrate.

“Hol’ up,” I slurred, slipping my arm from around Shanna’s shoulders. She swayed where she stood for a moment, then leaned against the wall while I made my way to a public terminal in a small recessed alcove. We’d been on our way back to the ship, but when I saw the terminal, I decided to stop. “I need t’check some- somethin’ real quick.” Most everyone else followed Shanna’s lead and found some space on the wall, except for Clinton, who pushed Omar up and down the hallway in his wheelchair, making whooshing noises.

I didn’t know why I couldn’t wait, but it just seemed to be something I had to do right then. I carefully, carefully entered my login information, taking longer than usual to do it, but I was rewarded by a first time ‘Login Successful’ when I tapped the Submit key. I’d been receiving dozens of new messages over the last several days, especially since starting the process to reinstate my legal status as a living, breathing person, so I scanned through them quickly, not expecting to find what I was looking for. I hadn’t received any word from StyxRatt since Stroika, but I tried to keep up on checking, just in case. When I did see it, I almost overlooked it, since it actually had a subject line: HELP. I tried to shake the cobwebs out of my brain, but had little success. I clicked the message to open it, but there was no body text, aside from a single line of seemingly random characters.

“Shit,” I muttered, rubbing at my eyes. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but Janice probably could. “Janice!” I yelled a little too loud, hearing my voice echo in the largely empty corridor.

“What?” she grumbled. Janice was as grumpy a drinker as she was anything else, but she approached readily.

“Take a loo’ at this,” I told her, trying to sound as serious as I felt. “It’s from Stiss, Stik- Fuck! It’s from SR.” She leaned in to see the screen and frowned at it for several seconds.

“Wha’s it say?” I asked her.

“I don’t know,” she replied, then pulled her datapad up and used the capture function to take a picture of the terminal’s screen. “I need to try to decode it, probably when I can think straight.” She shot me an accusing look, as though I’d been the one to insist she could drink, but I just giggled. I knew this was probably serious, but I couldn’t help it.

“Bad news, guys,” I said, turning to the rest of the crew. “Message from SR, prolly bad,” I rubbed my face, and looked unsteadily toward Sister Estrada. “Think I’m gonna need coffee, Mel. Gotta sober up.” She nodded, though if she’d intended to say anything, it was lost when Harper started a rambling explanation about how coffee didn’t make you sober. She didn’t seem to care if anyone was listening, but followed along as we continued toward the ship, still rambling. Harper was normally nearly as reserved as Sister Estrada, but she’d really cut loose once we’d gotten a few drinks into her. She even sang. Sober, she was probably an amazing singer; drunk, she was mostly just hilarious.

Back on the ship, Diaz, Sister Estrada and Shanna joined me for coffee. Janice had disappeared as soon as we reached the docks, and Clinton had said he was going to help Harper and Omar to bed, then head that way himself. The coffee didn’t sober me up, as Harper had tried to explain, but it did add an edge of alertness that helped me to focus. Diaz had been putting away the booze without seeming too badly off; if anything, he just got more sociable, which is saying something. I think he got contact info from half a dozen girls at the bar. Shanna hadn’t drank too heavily, but she still had bright eyes a rosy glow to her cheeks as she sipped her coffee. Me, I knew I was going to regret every decision I’d ever made in my life come the morning.

“Okay,” I said after my first cup was gone. “Janice is going to take a look at the cipher, or whatever it is that SR sent us, but ‘Help’ just doesn’t seem like it could possibly be a good message.” I took another swig of the hot stimulant. “If they’re in trouble, I think we owe it to them to help, if we can.” Diaz and Shanna nodded in agreement.

“But we don’t know where to find SR?” Sister Estrada asked.

“I’m hoping that’s what the cipher will tell us,” I replied. “But until we know, I think we need to start making ready to leave.” I looked at Shanna. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m good Suze,” she said, easily. I lifted a brow at the nickname, and her eyes widened suddenly, and she put her hands over her mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I know how you hate nicknames!”

“You know what?” I said. “I think I’m okay with Suze. Just not Sue,” I said, giving Diaz a quick smile. “And not when I’m speaking as Captain, okay?”

“Of course, Captain,” she replied.

“Suze is fine for now,” I told her. “But if you’re feeling up for it, I’d like you to take a look at the job offers, try to organize them based on general locations. Once we figure out where we’re headed, I don’t want to waste any time.” She nodded quickly.

“Can I call you Suze, too?” Diaz asked. I looked at him, biting back my kneejerk reaction to tell him no; why would I? If Shanna could call me Suze, why couldn’t he? I nodded halfheartedly and gave him a little smile.

“Don’t overdo it though, okay?”

“Never,” he responded with a grin. “Suze.” I rolled my eyes.

“Listen, if you’re up for it, I need you to come with me, make sure I don’t make a fool of myself.”

“Where we goin’?” he asked immediately, as if whether he’d come wasn’t even a question.

“I need to go see the Commandant,” I told him.

Surprisingly, we were ushered into the Commandant’s office immediately. I hadn’t really thought he’d be there at this hour, but I’d wanted to get a head start on fighting through the layers of bureaucracy to see him.

“Captain Rickard,” he said, rising as Diaz and I came in. “I’m surprised to see you so late.”

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” I replied bluntly. He laughed quietly.

“I’m usually here. A station this size doesn’t give a man like me much leisure. He sat down once Diaz and I found our seats. “What brings you to my office so late?”

“I got a message from Stiss-“ I stopped, took a deep breath, and concentrated on enunciation. “StyxRatt.” He didn’t immediately react, but instead leaned forward to look at me more closely.

“Captain Rickard,” he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Are you drunk?” I felt my face go hot, but I raised my chin and looked him directly in the eyes.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” He blinked, then leaned back in his seat with a startled laugh, looking to the ceiling as he did so. “We were celebrating, alright?” I sat there wrapped in the shreds of my dignity, but I felt a smile trying to sneak onto my lips as well.

“Of course,” he replied, still chuckling. “The GS-15926535 is now officially yours.”

“Hostile Witness,” I corrected him.

“The what?” he leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Hostile Witness. It’s the name of my ship.”

“No, I understood that. It’s just so surprisingly apt that it took me by surprise.” He leaned back with a sigh. “You deciding to come visit me in the midst of your celebrations is something that shouldn’t surprise me, either.”

“Hopefully that tells you how seriously I’m taking this.”

“Of course, of course,” he replied, still smiling “You received a message from StyxRatt. Please continue.”

“It simply said ‘Help’, along with a cipher that I hope is a location. My, uh, codebreaker is looking at it now.”

“And what do you need from me?” And there, at the moment of truth, I balked. I swallowed hard, and suddenly wished I was anywhere else but in that room. He waited quietly, a knowing look stealing into his eyes; but this time, he waited me out, instead of the other way around. Finally I sighed.

“I think we should take you up on your offer,” I mumbled under my breath. If he asked me to repeat myself, I thought I might just walk out, but ever the gracious victor, he didn’t push me. Instead, he reached over to grab the decanter, and poured himself a drink before speaking.

“Excellent. I doubt you’ll regret the choice. For now, I fully support any efforts you make to go help our reluctant ally. I do have something I’d like to give you before you go that might be useful, and of course I will provide any other support that I may.”

“Good,” I said, rising. “I don’t know what help I might need yet, but it’s good to know that it’s there if I ask.” I was very curious as to what he was going to give me, but I’d already overplayed my hand, and didn’t want to ask. I’d find out when he decided to tell me.

“Of course,” he said again. “There will be a package delivered in the morning. Unless you’re planning on leaving immediately?”

“No,” I replied hastily. “No, the morning at the very earliest. I still need to figure out cargo, once we know where we’re going.” I shot him a stern look, almost daring him to offer to pay me to fly empty, but the Admiral once again proved he was a wise man, because he simply nodded as though the thought were the furthest thing from his mind.

“The morning, then,” he rose as well to see us out. Once we were outside and walking back to the ship, Diaz shook his head.

“I don’t even know why you asked me to come,” he said. “You always seem to know exactly what to say.”

“Moral support, and to kick me if I start acting the fool,” I told him.

“You mean like admitting you were drunk, then staring him down?” He shook his head again. “That man intimidates the crap outta me. I don’t know how you do it.”

“He intimidates me too,” I admitted. “But that’s the last sort of person you want to let know it.”

The next morning came early. Despite my assumption that I’d be too wired to sleep, I’d passed out almost as soon as I lay down in my bunk. It seemed like no time at all before Janice was hammering on my door. As I’d expected, the cipher was a location; a set of coordinates that I’d need to run through the nav computer to determine where we were going. When I did, it sent a chill racing down my spine, and I considered very strongly just abandoning this path. Instead, I called Shanna up to the cockpit.

“So, I need you to look through the job offers,” I told her, hesitating on finishing the thought.

“Sure thing,” she replied, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Ugh, she was probably one of those people who never got a hangover. “Where we headed?”

“We got anything close to whatever’s left of Kestrel Station?”