Ion Trail 14: Open Eyes, Ready Hearts

The drop into Bekter’s Rim was routine, though my nerves were buzzing anyway. This would be the first time we’d seen anyone new, aside from Omar, in two weeks. While that wasn’t all that long a time in the regular course of things, it felt like it had been forever. As the ship glided in toward the large, bustling space station, I responded to the hail from traffic control and gave them my identification. While it might come out eventually that I was most likely presumed dead and my ship destroyed, I doubted there was a flag in the system for either. All the same, I waited tensely until they came back on the line.

“Star dock seven, berth twenty-three,” the traffic controller stated in a bored monotone. “Ensure that you submit a declaration if you’re carrying any cargo from a bio-restricted planet before docking.”

“Acknowledged,” I replied and breathed a sigh of relief as the connection dropped. I brought the ship in and executed a sidewise flip so I could back into my assigned berth. My preference for docking aft-first had been assumed to be a quirk, one that my fellow pilot trainees had ribbed me for; it was additional work and time that only served to delay getting aboard the station where all the fun was. I hadn’t known how to explain, so I’d never bothered, that for me the ship was the whole point; it was the crowded, noisy stations that I wanted to escape from. After Kestrel, it seemed like basic survival sense.

“All passengers who wish to debark, please report to the cargo bay,” I announced over the intercom. I flicked it off just as I brought the ship to a smooth landing, barely feeling the bump as we settled to the ground. I ran my shutdown checklist, skipping the step where I’d normally activate the datasphere update, instead just leaving it powered down. My personal devices were also in offline mode and I’d directed anyone staying with the ship to do the same. Everyone else had received the same warning, but they’d do what they chose to do with it. It would limit our freedom of mobility aboard station since we’d not be able to contact each other if we got separated, but I was going to take Styxratt’s advice until I had a reason not to. Once the ship was fully powered down, I pushed myself out of the seat and headed back for the cargo bay.

“Captain,” Diaz acknowledged me when I entered the bay. Everyone was waiting for me and I took a moment to look at them all, one by one.

“This is it, then,” I said, addressing those who would remain aboard the station. “It’s been good getting to know all of you, and I wish you the best of luck out there. Keep your heads down and stay safe, all of you.”

“We’ll do our best, Captain,” said June, moving forward to give me a hug. “You be careful out there too, and don’t hesitate to drop Alan and me a line whenever you get a chance.” Others stepped up to shake my hand and wish me well, or to exchange final farewells with those who’d be leaving with me. Then it was time, so I dropped the ramp, letting in the sounds and smells of a busy star dock.

“Diaz,” I said, catching his eye. “Make sure the docking boots are in place, but don’t actually lock them, okay? I don’t want to have to fight with them if we need to leave in a hurry.” He nodded and Clinton went to help him. Meanwhile, the passengers were milling around in the berth, staring around at the hectic docks. I smiled sympathetically; that feeling of being overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of so many people may have been new to them, but it was an old, uncomfortable friend of mine. Shanna stood nearby waiting for me, so I made my way over to her.

“You ready to go, Captain?” she asked. I glanced over and saw Harper standing nearby, as she’d be accompanying us on our foray.

“Yup,” I said. “Let’s go see if we can find a buyer.”

At her suggestion, we’d spent a chunk of the last day removing Dion’s branding from the crates and loose cargo, which would make it easier to sell on the open market. As a former sales clerk, Shanna knew the best places to look for buyers of general cargo and had volunteered to help me find a buyer. I followed her now as she wove somewhat unsteadily through the crowd. When a larger woman bumped her and she nearly lost her balance, I caught her elbow to steady her. She shot me a grateful look, so I stayed close thereafter, until we finally made it to where we were going.

The Bazaar was an honest to goodness open-air market on a broad concourse connecting to the station’s inner ring. It was largely a tourist-trap, with lots of kitschy little gift shops, but Shanna said that the merchants here also did a brisk trade in more substantial merchandise; the bazaar served as a side business and neutral ground for buyers and sellers to meet. We moved slowly up and down the aisles while she scanned the business placards, looking for a likely buyer.

“Here we go,” she said, pointing to a stall filled with real wooden furniture and woven rugs; this place would mostly appeal to middle-class tourists or the well-off looking to furnish a vacation home. Harper and I followed her into the booth. The merchant himself gave us a quick eyeball and his expression made it clear that he didn’t like what he saw, but Shanna approached him before he could have us shooed off. “Hi, good morning,” she said, giving him a sunny smile. He stopped mid-scowl and looked at her, his eyes lighting up at the pretty girl smiling at him.

“Good morning yourself,” he said. “Is there something specific you’re interested in?” He glanced over at me and Harper, his eyes saying clearly that he didn’t think we could afford anything he had to sell, but there was something about Shanna that made you want to be nice.

“Actually, yes,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers, drawing his complete focus back to her. “I couldn’t help but notice how many lovely things you have here and I thought you’d be just the right guy to help a girl out.”

“Oh?” he said, smiling broadly at her. “I’d be happy to give you whatever help you need.” I rolled my eyes, but said nothing. Honestly watching Shanna work was a joy, and I was frankly glad she was on our side.

“Well, my associates,” she tossed her head toward Lorna and me, her auburn hair bobbing as she did so, “have some cargo that they’d like to offload, but unfortunately, there are so few discerning buyers here.”

“Oh,” he said again, his expression becoming more guarded. “I’m not sure-“

“It’s legitimate salvage,” she interrupted. “You’ve heard of PRC Salvage?” I jerked a bit as she said that, though I tried to hide it; that was Clinton’s old crew. I hadn’t known that she knew that. He cautiously nodded and she rushed onward in that way that was so uniquely hers. “Well, they just got rights to the Kestrel Station wreckage, and this is their first haul. They’re trying to get back out there before any other salvaging operations have a chance to pick it clean, but they don’t have a warehouse here.”

At the mention of Kestrel Station, along with the name of a reputable salvage company, the merchant’s trepidation eased. Instead, it was replaced by a more predatory gleam in his eyes. She’d made it seem like there was some urgency, which he knew he could take advantage of. Of course we’d known going in that we weren’t going to get fair market value for the cargo without significant delays and uncomfortable questions. Still, Dion didn’t deal in cheap trinkets and it looked like Shanna had this man eating out of her hand. We would probably be okay.

=+=

The bargaining and the appraisal had taken longer than I’d like, but the final numbers were more than enough to replenish our food stocks and other supplies. The next step was to try to get a cargo for Stroika, if we could find anything that needed to go that way. I had fretted a bit over this, but realized that without an employer paying the bills I would need to find a way to make money, or else my new crew would soon be starving; we’d already had enough of that. Kyle had said he’d talk to some contacts here on the station and get back to me about that, so we were going to be here at least overnight.

The ship felt empty after weeks with so many people; even sitting with Sister Estrada, Shanna and Harper in the galley you could feel the silence. Two weeks ago that was all I’d ever wanted in the world, but now it didn’t seem so attractive as it once had.

“You’re looking much better, Shanna,” Sister Estrada was saying as I brought my attention back to the present. “Your color has improved and you don’t move as though you’re afraid you’ll break anymore.”

“Well,” she laughed a little, “I’m trying to not be afraid of anything anymore.” She looked at me and smiled. “I’ve got a good example to follow.”

“What?” I scoffed. “I’m afraid all the time,” I argued. “You really have no idea.”

“Well, you don’t show it, at least,” she replied. “That’s not nothing.” I shook my head, feeling my face flush at the unexpected compliment.

“You seem to already be doing pretty well in that regard anyway,” said Harper. “The way you handled that merchant was something to watch.” It was Shanna’s turn to blush and I glanced at Harper gratefully.

“Oh, that,” she said modestly. “I’ve always been able to work a potential buyer. I was top in sales at my old job for three months running, before…” she trailed off and the smile faded quickly.

“Is it something you want to talk about?” Sister Estrada inquired gently. I shared a glance with Harper; we both knew what it was in broad strokes, but we’d never heard the details.

“I, well,” she wavered, but never got to finish the sentence.

“Captain!” I looked up to see Clinton coming in, with Kyle following behind, accompanied by a young woman in business attire. I stood, seeing we had company.

“Hello,” I said to the woman after giving Kyle a smile.

“Hey Captain,” Kyle said easily. “This is an associate of mine, who I talked to about a cargo, like I said I would.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand. She took my hand firmly.

“You must be Captain Rickard,” she said. “Kyle has told me so much about you.” The emphasis she put on the words ‘so much’ instantly put up my guard and I looked at Kyle.

“Sorry Captain,” he replied with only a trace of penitence. “Didn’t have much choice. Kris knows where I used to work and she wasn’t having any of my stories.”

“It’s a remarkable tale,” she said. “Kyle has lead me to believe that you’re an equally remarkable woman.”

“Well, uh, thanks, I guess,” I stammered, still trying to come to grips with the situation. “So, how can I help you?”

“Kyle said you need a cargo to Stroika and as it turns out, I have interests there. Among other places. Kyle also tells me you’re a dedicated pilot. If he trusts you, I trust you.” Kyle’s expression behind her warned me to be careful, so I played it safe.

“Kyle’s trust means a lot to me. So what do you need me to haul?”

“A replacement fission generator will be the bulk of the cargo, but we have several other boxes of miscellaneous parts for our retailer in Stroika, as well.” I thought about the space left in the cargo bay and bobbed my head.

“Sounds like something I can handle,” I agreed. “You need this out soon, I hope?”

“As soon as you’re ready to receive it,” she said. “I’ve got my factor putting together the shipment now, at our warehouse in star dock twelve.”

“Gotcha. I’ll request a berth reassignment over there for first thing in the morning,” I said.

“Excellent. I’ll have a contract for your review sent to your message box immediately.” I hid a frown and indicated agreement.

“Sounds great. I’ll look it over tonight,” She offered her hand this time, and I clasped it, looking her in the eye. “Look forward to doing business with you.” Kyle saw her out and I dropped into a chair, breaking out into a cold sweat as soon as she was gone. “Damn it, Kyle,” I growled, then turned my glare on Clinton. “You could have warned me,” I accused.

“Whoa, Captain,” he said defensively, “I didn’t know he’d told her!” I stared at him for another second, then pressed my hands to my face with an exasperated exhalation.

“I guess we’ll just have to trust his judgment,” I grumbled. “We don’t have much other choice.”

I’d had to go find a public terminal that night to check my messages and review the contract but the terms and offered compensation were standard for this kind of job, so I transmitted the contract back with a digital signature and my personal code for credit transfer. The next morning went smoothly enough, with a quick move to the new star dock and then everything was inventoried and loaded up. The generator was bulkier than I’d expected but we managed to fit it into the reduced cargo space. The smaller crates were stacked up on and around it leaving little room to enter through the cargo bay, so we’d have to use the airlocks to get aboard ourselves.

Once the cargo was all loaded, the ramp was locked in place and everyone else was aboard, I took a moment to stand behind my ship, alone. I looked around the busy star dock, nearly identical to the one we’d fled at Kestrel Station, and watched ships in the other berths around me being loaded, unloaded and receiving routine maintenance. An era had ended and we’d all been too busy to notice; I had a feeling that eras often passed unremarked by anyone until the historians got around to it. So I just stood there and breathed it all in, the rote, repetitive actions of people who weren’t in fear for their lives. I looked up toward the large blast doors that separated the star dock from the outer ring of the station, and wondered where June, Alan, Craig and the rest were right now. I hoped they would all be okay, wherever they ended up. With one last glance around, I turned back toward my ship, eyes still unfocused, and took a few steps toward the air lock before I stopped abruptly. Janice was standing there in front of me, her hands up in a “what gives?” gesture and looking at me like I was crazy. I stared back at her for a second, then just laughed.

“Come on,” I said. “I’m ready to go, now.”

“What are you even doing?” she groused I made myself ignore the irritation in her tone. I’d spoken to her a few more times since she’d demanded to stay with the ship and I’d begun to realize the chip on her shoulder was permanently attached.

“Just saying goodbye to things I never realized I’d miss,” I told her. She rolled her eyes.

“You’re weird.”

“You’re right,” I laughed. “But maybe I’m weird enough to get us through this alive.” She shot me a look from beneath lowered brows, then mumbled something before picking up her step nearly to a jog, then practically leapt up the ladder to the airlock.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I said ‘probably’,” she shot back over her shoulder and disappeared into the ship.

“That sounds like a vote of confidence!” I called after her as I mounted the ladder myself. She didn’t answer so I just chuckled, climbed inside and secured the door. “I’ll take it.”

Thirty minutes later we’d cleared traffic control and were on our way toward the edge of the interdiction field. It was a much smaller group now and instead of strangers, they were friends; a bit older, wiser and tougher than two weeks should have accounted for. We weren’t fleeing for our lives this time, but running toward a possibility; maybe a threat, maybe a solution, only time would tell. Whichever it was, we’d meet it with open eyes and ready hearts.