Ion Trail 19: Making a Scene

“Aren’t you worried that they were somehow able to track us, still?” Diaz asked me as he sat in my seat in the cockpit, while I leaned against the wall outside. “You said that you’d never seen an interdiction field on something so small before, so maybe there’s some other tech we’re not expecting.”

“Not worried in the slightest,” I said. “Didn’t I tell you? We’re not dropping into Percyval’s Rest. I went ahead and plotted the jump straight to Terra Primus, just in case. If they follow us through there, they’ll be facing the full might of the Terran Union.”

“Smart,” he replied, and I smiled and winked before he turned back to the console. “Uh, ten minutes to drop out,” he added.

“Don’t tell me, tell the crew,” I reminded him. He keyed the intercom and repeated the notification, minus the ‘uh’ at the beginning. “Alright, so what’s next?” I asked.

“Umm, I need to verify the drive thingie,” he answered, and I rolled my eyes.

“Ion drive,” I corrected him. “Make sure it’s idling at acceptable levels and that you’ve got good readings from the maneuver thrusters.”

“Yeah. It’s showing yellow. That means degraded?”

“Amber. It’s going to be, what with the beating we took,” I confirmed with a nod. “As long as the reading is above seventy percent, we should be fine, though.”

“Seventy-two,” Diaz replied, “and seven of twelve maneuvering thrusters are green, three are amber, two are red.” I grimaced; I already knew this of course, but maneuvering would already be hard enough for a rookie pilot without the damage. Harper said I wasn’t going to be ready to use my arm for at least another couple of weeks, so there weren’t many alternatives. We’d just have to take it really easy and avoid any tricky moves.

“Make another announcement at one minute, then recheck everything one more time before drop out,” I instructed. The minutes ticked by and he did as he’d been told. I could see the countdown over his shoulder, and watched it tensely until it reached zero and I felt the drop, followed by a small but easily discernible vibration throughout the ship. My baby was hurting, but she’d gotten us here intact. “What would you normally be doing now?” I asked.

“Normally, I’d try to reach traffic control and request permission to dock,” he said. “But the comm disc is gone.”

“Well, hopefully not gone,” I replied. We’d been unable to check, as the second drone had been slagged in the firefight and we didn’t have more. “But for now, just keep your speed steady and slow, and make a straight path to the station.” He glanced down, saw the line that showed the navigation path to the station, and brought the ship into alignment, mostly. He’d have to make more adjustments as he got closer, but he’d learn eventually.

“Hey, I can see it,” he said, pointing to the viewscreen, where the station was visible. Terra Primus Station was easily the largest I’d ever seen, though not the largest there was, and you could see it further out than some planets. By now, they’d likely be hailing us and getting nervous when we didn’t respond. Sure enough, before the station got perceptibly larger I saw two smaller ships exit the station and approach, fast.

“Steady now,” I warned him. “Just keep your line, maybe drop the throttle a smidge.” The damage to the ship was probably obvious from outside, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t still be cautious. I peered over his shoulder at the console and watched the blips approach as he nervously gripped the yoke. “Easy, I don’t need you breaking my controls.”

One of the ships, no larger than the black ship we’d fought, came to a position just ahead of us and matched its speed to ours, while the other came around and made a loop before coming in on our less damaged side; probably getting a visual assessment of the damage. “Whoa,” I said, reaching forward to grab his shoulder. “Slow it down, the ship in front of us is reducing speed. Try to match it.”

“Okay,” he said in a voice tight with nerves and I could feel him trembling under my hand. “Um, I think it’s turning?” I glanced at the console, and agreed.

“Just keep following it,” I said calmly. “I think they’ve realized we’re damaged, and are providing escort. Slow down if it slows, stop if it stops.”

“Um, I don’t think they’re taking us to the station.”

“That’s fine,” I told him. I didn’t think it was necessary to mention that these two ships, small as they were, were heavily armed; probably fast-moving gunships that could tear us to pieces easily if we provoked them. So we’d just go wherever they wanted us to go.

After a bit, they stopped us a good distance from the station, and sensors detected a small, slow moving proximity alert on our starboard side, coming from the second ship. “Stay here,” I told Diaz. “Don’t do anything without a very clear signal from them. It’s better to stay still than to move unexpectedly.” I turned and walked down the hall, making my way to the starboard air lock. Along the way I stuck my head into the med bay and the galley, gathering Sister Estrada and Harper up to go with me.

When we got there, I saw a flashing light that indicated a request for entry from the outer door. I tapped the button to accept the request, and we heard the outer door opening. I peeked through the porthole and saw a suited figure enter the lock, cycle the outer door behind it, and turn around to look at me; the crewcut and chiseled features inside the helmet marked him as TU military, possibly even a marine. The large flechette pistol at his waist suggested a naval technician or some such; a marine would have been packing something a bit more serious. I keyed in the entry sequence to cycle the lock and open the inner door.

“Welcome aboard,” I said as the suited man stepped inside, removing his helmet. He gave me a once over before looking to Harper and Sister Estrada; The obvious, simple dress of a priestess seemed to surprise and put him a bit off-guard, as I’d hoped it might.

“Thank you,” he replied cautiously. “Who are you, and what happened to your ship?”

“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said with a little laugh. “As for the former, I’m Susan Rickard, Captain of this ship.”

“Alright, Captain,” he replied. “I assume you’re seeking aid and repairs?”

“That, and fulfillment of several deliveries to Terra Primus,” I expanded. “I’ll also need to talk to someone at the TU. I have some sensitive information to pass on.”

“I’m sure,” he said. “I will need to do a walkthrough inspection of your ship before we can bring it in to the station. I’m sure you won’t mind.” I absolutely did mind, but I also knew that I didn’t have much choice in the matter. If he said boo, the ships outside would blow us all to star dust and be back to the station in time for lunch.

“Of course,” I agreed.

I took him through the ship, giving only minimal details to explain the internal damage and based on prior discussions with the crew, didn’t take him in to see the captured bodies. He catalogued both weapons, took vids of the damage to the port-side hallway, and scanned our cargo manifests.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he said. “If you’ll take me back to the air lock, we’ll see about getting you into one of our controlled star docks.”

“Mm. I have kind of an unusual request?” I replied. “As you can see, I’m a little banged up and none of my crew are pilots. I’ve been shepherding my First Mate through the process the best I can, but I don’t think he’s up for docking. I don’t suppose you’re a pilot?”

=+=

Dealing with the TU was exactly as painful as I expected it would be. After managing to get docked, and dealing with all the hassle of “enhanced customs”, we’d received a very perfunctory debrief and were issued bracelets to wear on-station. We were informed that the bracelets would gain us access to public areas, but if we took them off without prior clearance, there would be unpleasantness, and surely we wouldn’t want that. Despite the courtesy, my efforts to get a meeting with someone in charge were politely deflected, over and over again. We’d been aboard station for three days before I finally lost my patience.

“Diaz, Clinton,” I gestured them over to me. “I’m getting really sick and tired of the bullshit. Diaz, grab a cargo mover, meet us at the air lock. Clinton, I need you and…” I glanced around at my crew realizing that Clinton wouldn’t be enough, and I certainly wouldn’t be a lot of help. Shanna quickly lifted a hand to volunteer, without even knowing what I wanted her to do. “Shanna, you and Clinton will come with me to move the body.” They both blanched a bit, but stepped forward readily enough. I led them to the makeshift morgue where the body was still on the bed, but wrapped in a sheet now. Oddly it hadn’t really started to smell that bad over the course of the trip, for which we were thankful; corpse transport wasn’t exactly what the ship had been designed for. They took the bundled corpse at feet and shoulders. On a whim I grabbed one of the helmets, and led the way to the air lock.

Getting the body down to the cargo mover was an awkward, nausea-inducing affair, but with it being a controlled bay we didn’t have to contend with gawkers, at least. Once it was on the mover, I set off with the three of them and the body in tow, making my way down the now-familiar corridors to the Station Administration Offices. The uniformed young man behind the desk recognized me as soon as I walked in and I saw the politely obstinate expression settle in; I smiled back, because I was about to knock it right off his face.

“Good morning, Captain Rickard,” he started, the same old script we’d been rehearsing since I’d arrived with my crew, but this time I didn’t let him finish. I reached around and awkwardly hauled at the cloth-covered bundle until Diaz came to my assistance and we dumped it out, letting the ghastly, obviously inhuman body sprawl onto the floor of the lobby before I turned back to the horrified desk clerk.

“I’d really like to speak to the Station Commandant,” I said, smiling sweetly.

Things moved a bit more quickly after that. Marines showed up immediately and my companions and I were practically goose-stepped out of the lobby, through an administrative cubicle farm and into a large, well-appointed office with a massive window overlooking the main concourse. A tall, beefy man in dress uniform stood with his back to us, looking down onto the crowded plaza below until the marines had stepped back, leaving us standing alone in front of his desk.

“Am I to understand that you just dumped a body in my lobby?” The man’s voice, muffled a bit as he hadn’t yet turned around, was deep, gravelly, the sort of voice that drew attention even when he spoke quietly, as he did now.

“Just trying to be taken seriously,” I said. I felt my anti-authority side start to flare up, but forced it down and made myself add, “Sir.” Several seconds passed before I realized the large man was shaking slightly and I heard the low rumble of a quiet chuckle. He turned around to bring his sharp gaze to bear, sweeping over the four of us. Shit, I thought. Why didn’t I leave Shanna and Clinton at the ship? I chanced a quick glance back at my companions, but while they looked impressed they didn’t look cowed. Nothing for it but to go forward, I guess.

“Well, you got my attention,” he said. “What do you want?”

“I need to give you this,” I said, pulling the datastick out of a pocket. I heard the marines behind me tense up when I reached for it, but ignored them. My heart was already hammering in my chest, and had been since we’d left the ship, but damned if I was going to let these bastards see it. “I’d also like to make a full report to someone who actually has the authority to do something about it, preferably before I die of old age or boredom.”

“You got some sass to you, don’t ya?” the commandant said, but he gestured, and one of the marines moved to take the datastick from me and give it to him. He turned it over in his hands for a moment, then looked back at me. “Care to give me an idea of what’s on this?”

“Sir, I’m no analyst, but from what I could tell it’s an algorithm that seems like it could be used to predict the black ships movements. There’s a lot of supporting data and it looked solid, as far as I could make out.”

“As far as you could make out?” He asked, his brows raising. “So you didn’t generate this data?”

“No sir,” I replied. “It was entrusted to me by a hacker-“ I hesitated for a moment before saying the name; in this very serious and martial environment, it seemed silly. “A hacker named StyxRatt,” I finished lamely. Instead of laughing as I expected him to, his brows furrowed and he looked at the datastick again, his body language changing; it was like he was holding a live serpent in his hand.

“I know the name,” he said shortly, then reached up to his ear. “Andrews, get in here, bring the courier pouch. I’ve got something that needs to be sent over to the DET, pronto.” We waited until he’d turned the stick over to a TU soldier with a locking case before he returned his attention to us. “That’s going to the eggheads over at the Data Exploitation Team. If it’s not some sort of virus and the data’s as useful as you suggest, they’ll be able to make sense of it.” Only a sliver of his former amusement remained. “I find that I’m very curious to hear that report, now.”

I started from the beginning, leaving nothing out. As much as I didn’t want to give up the fight, I knew that this was too big to dissemble. As soon as I mentioned Kestrel Station he stopped me, pulled out a small recording device, and asked me to begin again. After that he sat quietly, interrupting only occasionally with a clarifying question, until the tale was concluded.

“That’s some story you’ve got,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he believed it, but he didn’t seem entirely skeptical, either. “Certainly gives some context to the INTSUM I received out of Bekter’s Rim a couple weeks back.” I smiled, feeling a small bit of relief as he mentioned Bekter’s Rim; the rest of my passengers had come through and done as I’d asked them to.

“The passengers at Bekter’s Rim,” I ventured, when he didn’t immediately continue. “They’re well?”

“So far as the report goes,” he confirmed after a moment’s consideration. “Some stayed on the station, but others moved on. You’ve given me a lot to think about,” he added, standing back up at his desk, and tucking the recording device into his breast pocket. “You’ll be escorted back to your ship for now, but you’ll be contacted again, soon. You don’t have any more surprises to dump on my floor, do you?”

“Nothing to dump on the floor, but we have a sample of the inert nanites, the remains of the other body, and their suits, still back at the ship.”

“I’ll send Andrews with you to collect what he can, and an exploitation team will be by later to get the rest.” He walked around the desk and shoved a hand at me, so abruptly that I flinched before I realized he was offering it to shake. “Hell of a story,” he said again. “You need anything? Your crew being taken care of?”

“Well, I’d like to get the repairs started, and have my cargo released so I can deliver it to the receiving agents aboard station.” He blinked, then laughed.

“Of course, of course. That should have been done already, but it’s probably somewhere in a stack of paperwork I’ve still got to review and sign. I’ll order it done, and review the paperwork later.”

With that he ordered the marines to escort us back to the ship, accompanied by the young soldier with his courier pouch. He collected the nanites, the other helmet and a few shreds of the destroyed armor suit, then reiterated that someone would be by to collect the rest soon. After he’d left, we sat down to a meal with the rest of the crew and I took some time to catch them up on what had happened, accompanied by embarrassing embellishments courtesy of Shanna and Diaz. Clinton didn’t add to it, but he didn’t back me up either when I tried to clarify what actually happened.

“Oh will you stop!” I exclaimed. “I did not spike the helmet onto anyone’s desk, alright?”

“But you did walk in there, cool as you please, and dump an alien body right in the middle of the floor?” Omar asked with an incredulous grin. I blushed, for probably the sixth time since we’d come back and tried to stammer out a response.

“It was magnificent,” Shanna said, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks nearly as flushed as mine felt. “I thought she was going to kick down the door and yell ‘listen up, motherfuckers!’”

“You’re terrible,” I said, laughing at the ludicrous image she’d painted. “Even if I could kick down a door, I wouldn’t have made it far with a squad of marines right there.”

“Sounds like you made quite a scene,” Sister Estrada commented in her calm, understated way. “Seems a shame we didn’t all go with you, so we could help spread your legend.”

“You’re as bad as they are!” I accused, still laughing.

This continued until the full story had been told, more or less. Sister Estrada had made coffee for after dinner and we sat around the table enjoying a cup, before I decided it was time to get back to business.

“So, Shanna,” I said. “As soon as the clearance comes through on the cargo, I want you to go with Diaz and make the arrangements with the factors. Look into sub-contracting the load that’s supposed to go to Percyval’s Rest. I don’t think we’re going to be getting out of here any time soon, and I don’t want to keep them waiting any longer than they have been.”

“You got it, Cap’,” she replied and threw me a jaunty two-fingered salute. I tried to glare at her, but the grin on her face as she did it was just too cute, so I doubt I was very convincing.

“Clinton,” I continued, turning to him. “I want you to get me an estimate for repairs, and start making some connections with local shops; while we’re here and we’ve got a little extra money to play with, I’d like to look into some configuration changes and upgrades, as well. Nothing solid yet, just get me some contacts, okay?”

“Sounds fun,” he agreed. “Now that Omar’s got the chair on loan from station medical, I’ll take him with me.”

“Will you be wanting some replacement drones, too?” Omar asked. I considered it for a second, then nodded. “Something a bit more general purpose than mining drones, though. We’re not likely to turn into a mining operation. And, uh, while you’re at it, maybe look into something more defensive.” Brows lifted around the table at that, but I rushed on before anyone could ask. I wasn’t trying to keep anything from my crew, but until I’d had a little more time to think I wanted to play things close to the chest.

“Melva, Lorna, I’ve got taskings for you, too,” I said. “Food, of course, but I’d like to see about getting a little more serious about a proper medical bay, too. The two of you can go and check that out for me, okay? Just prices for now.”

“Are you going to give me chores too?” came a new voice, and looked up to where Janice stood by the door; she’d joined us for the meal and the story, but I thought she had split once we started on the coffee. I looked at her, assessing the tense, almost aggressive line to her shoulders. She wanted me to give her something to do, even if she was doing her best not to show it.

“You know what we’re up against,” I said. “And you know what SR told us. I think I’m just going to leave your part up to your own judgment, but you let me know what you need and what you find out, okay?” She blinked at me, then narrowed her fierce brown eyes at me for several seconds, before rolling her eyes and shrugged.

“Whatever,” she muttered and quickly left. She’d be back. If my suspicions were correct, she had just as much a part to play in all of this as anyone else.

“Alright people,” I said, standing up a bit too quickly, feeling a twinge of pain as I did so. “You’ve got your assignments and the night is still young.”

“What’re you going to do?” Shanna challenged with a direct stare and a barely hidden smirk.

“I’m going to do the most important part of all,” I replied, raising my chin loftily. “I’m going to go relax in my bunk and catch up on my shows. Doctor’s orders.” With that, I flounced out of the galley accompanied by a new round of laughter.