Chapter 21
“Stations! Stations!” called Squirrel over the ship comm. “Transition Exit light is blinking. Curved space ahead.”
José and M’Elise piled onto the bridge and jumped to their seats. They’d been on alert for several hours. The exit from transition was never exact, but there were telltale signs that could be detected.
“Clear,” was the call from O’Riley in engineering. José and M’Elise keyed in moments later.
“How long is the usual wait?” asked Squirrel.
“Long enough to get a cup of coffee and warm up the engines,” said M’Elise. “Normally we’re not looking to get attacked immediately upon arrival.”
“We’re there,” said José, a few moments later. He gunned the engines and moved them quickly away from their entry point.
“Nothing stationary in the immediate vicinity that shouldn’t be here. Call the refinery, I’ll check system logs and check them against what’s moving” said M’Elise.
Squirrel hailed the way station and started negotiations for a berth and quick refill. M’Elise checked off what scan was reporting versus recent system entries and exits. “Looks like we beat them. We might just pull this off.”
“Or not,” said Squirrel, pulling one ear bud out of her ear. “Refinery says that a stop has been placed on the ship’s credit. They won’t sell us a berth or fuel.”
“Tyr’s notary!” swore M’Elise and started calling up credit history. “That bankrupt little dwarf. We’re down with a 27,000 talent charge in an Aravaca bar.”
“But we didn’t spend that!” protested Squirrel.
“Yeah, but for far less he could bribe some barkeep who probably pays them protection money to fake the charge. It’ll take weeks to sort out.”
“We can’t buy anything for weeks?”
M’Elise shook her head. “Not from corporates. Start calling ships.” She keyed the list of local traffic over to Squirrel’s station. “You might find one willing to trade for promissory credit. Fuel’s not that expensive and they might be willing to take the risk.”
José nervously kept the ship on an erratic course, largely in the vicinity of the refinery as Squirrel called ship after ship. “Got one!” she said eventually. “Together as One. It’s a container ship that’s been stuck at point here waiting for a transfer. Something’s been delayed and they don’t expect to be going anywhere anytime soon.”
“What’s their price?” asked M’Elise.
“Exorbitant,” said Squirrel. “Three times normal rate.”
“Take it. José, get us there.” He cheered and sent them jetting in that direction as the deal was closed.
Squirrel paced up and down in front of the airlock. O’Riley had gone out to help with their side of the connection. At dock there were plenty of deckhands to help in the logistics of refueling the ship. But here in free space setting up the hoses was more complicated and they had only themselves. But the crew of the Together as One appeared to be competent and as happy to get the job done quickly after they were paid. O’Riley had reported the job done and was on his way in. Squirrel came down to help him with his suit and make the turnaround as quickly as possible.
Finally the airlock cycled open and O’Riley stood in it. “Come on!” said Squirrel. “The goons won’t take forever. We’ve got to move it.” She looked at him quizzically as he continued to stand there for a moment. Then he toppled forward. “Shi…” was all Squirrel was able to scream out.
M’Elise tapped her finger repeatedly on her console on the bridge. The airlock light had come up, but she hadn’t got the all clear from Squirrel. José was nervously gunning the engines up and down, just waiting to start the quick burst that would take them away from the Together as One’s mass so they could transition. “What’s keeping them?” she asked and went to flip the ship’s comm on.
Suddenly one hand grabbed M'Elise’s head and another appeared in front of her face with a weapon aimed at her eye. A chillingly familiar voice said “Miss me?”
“No!” shouted José spinning around and struggling to unstrap his restraints. “No Miss Ninajatuli! Don’t hurt her!”
“Nothing in the world would give me more pleasure,” said Ninajatuli. “Alas we can’t always have what we want,” and as José threw off the last of his straps and lurched over the console she shot him. M’Elise screamed and tried to buck herself out of her seat but the weapon fired a second time.
Consciousness returned very slowly to O’Riley. He was aware of it, but didn’t embrace it. He was cold. Like falling asleep with no covers on. With a low heart rate the body temperature cooled. Eventually it becomes uncomfortable enough to start to wake you back up.
Inexorably awareness returned enough for O’Riley to be aware of more than the cold. He felt pressure along one side of his body. That meant gravity. A deck plate. A cold deck plate leeching the heat from his body. These perceptions brought back memory. He’d been fueling their ship, in space, freefall. They’d finished and he’d stowed the fuel hose. He was just coming in when he caught a stitch in his side. Hurrying too much. Then there was a suit breach alarm. Then…
His heart was returning to a more normal rate now. The warmth it brought made the cold more piercing and he shifted. Nearly fully alert he willed himself to stay motionless and concentrated on listening. Normal ship sounds. Not the José Fabuloso. Something larger, but not very large.
Shivers started. A dead giveaway that he was awake. He tried to relax to stop them. Only tense muscles shiver. But he was just too cold. He opened his eyes a slit. There was dim lighting in the room. Emergency lights. There were other bodies around him, but no one upright. He opened his eyes wider. There was netting over exposed pipes on the ceiling and pop-up stops in the floor. Cargo hold.
He felt manacles on his hands, but no shackles on his feet. He tried an experimental move and found that the manacles were bolted to the floor. That was inconvenient. But it probably meant that there was no immediate guard. Unless they had installed additional monitoring, there was probably just the camera on the comm console if the ship followed a standard design.
“M’Elise,” he hissed. “José. Squirrel.” He called each in turn. He stretched out his leg in a way he hoped the camera couldn’t see and gave one of the bodies a prod. Nothing happened the first time, the second time the body jerked and started to spasmodically struggle. José’s body jerked up and then fell flat, restrained by his manacle, also bolted to the floor.
“Quiet José!” cautioned O’Riley.
“M’Elise!” he whispered.
“She’s here. Everyone’s here. What happened?”
“Ninajatuli,” said José. “She got on the bridge.”
“Looks like she got a damn sight more places than that.” He turned as far as his chains would allow and nudged the other bodies. “They’re out cold. Must have got them with a full dose.”
“They are alive?”
“Yes. M’Elise would say that gives us the advantage. They must want something from us.”
“Miss Ninajatuli likes to torture her prisoners,” said José remembering the explosive patch she had put on his forehead.
“Well, let’s hope it isn’t that.” He jerked a few more times. “There’s nothing for it. We only have the bluff.” He coughed a few times. “Judging by the bruise, the little witch shot me in the chest. I’m gonna start wheezing and coughing. You try to get someone’s attention. Scream, shout, sing or whatever. Get them in here and then… let’s just see how it goes.”
“OK,” said José. He shouted a few times, but without result. He kicked the deck but even the steel toes of his boots weren’t enough to make much of a racket. Finally he started singing a loud bawdy song in his native Guadeloupe dialect. After a few verses the lights in the hold came full on. Booted feet could be heard coming down the hold ladder. “Hey! Hey!” shouted José. “My friend. He’s hurt.”
A pair of goons loomed over them. O’Riley wheezed his worst. “I thought y
ou said it was just a small puncture wound.”
“Dunno. I’m no doctor. Maybe it pierced a lung.”
“Better look. Boss wants them alive.”
The goon sighed and got down on one knee. At that point O’Riley lurched up and wrapped his legs around his body, slamming him to the deck and knocking the air out of him. The second rushed forward and tried to drag him away but José kicked him hard in the knee with his boots. He shouted and staggered backward. O’Riley tried rocking the weakly struggling body back and forth in order to bash its head against the deck, but wasn’t getting the leverage. “José!” he called. “Same trick, this bugger.”
The goon was at the comm console. “We’ve got trouble!” he called into it. He then drew a sword and started back at them.
José had turned again and with a few choice kicks to the head stopped the first goon from struggling. O’Riley shifted him till he had his neck tightly clasped between his legs.
There were thuds as more boots hit the deck, sliding down the stairs. Finally, one last figure appeared, shorter than the rest.
“One move and I snap this gobshite’s neck” warned O’Riley.
“I’ve got more,” said the voice of Pieter Konstantinov.
“Hear that boys? You should form a union”, taunted O'Riley. “Terrible working conditions you have. I can’t imagine the pay.”
“Or we could just kill you where you lay,” said Pieter.
“Boss wants them alive,” mimicked José in a rough approximation of the guard’s accent.
“I’m getting really tired of that argument,” said Pieter. “But, yes, it would be convenient to keep you alive. It would be convenient not to have to skewer you through the body of my faithful, but dumb enough to be caught by a stupid trick, retainer. Just tell me where the Camelidae Sapphire is.”
“I’ve got it here, in my pocket,” said O’Riley. “Unlock José and I’ll give it to you.”
“We have that. It’s a cheap fake.”
“Oh yeah. You’re right. I remember now. It’s on the José Fabuloso.”
“Fabuloso!” cheered José and gave the guard a playful kick.
“Exactly where on the José Fabuloso?” Pieter asked levelly.
“How can we trust you?”
“How can I trust you?”
There was a pause. “Enlightened self interest,” said José.
“What?” they both asked.
“M’Elise says. You can trust anyone as long as there is enlightened self interest. If you both want the same thing.”
“I want the Camelidae. If it’s on the José Fabuloso, then I want the José Fabuloso,” said Pieter.
“You don’t have it?” asked O’Riley.
“NO I DON’T HAVE IT” shouted Pieter.
“Then who the bloody hell attacked us?” O’Riley said, genuinely confused.
“The damned Sorority, who else?” said Pieter, exasperated.
“We thought they worked for you,” said O’Riley.
“Them! Us!” Pieter sputtered. “They don’t work for us. They work for a rival Cooperative. Don’t play dumb with me. You know this.”
“Lets stick to things we both know,” said O’Riley. “You want the José Fabuloso. We want to stay alive. We know the ship and how to crack it quickly. We’ll help you and you keep us alive. Sound reasonable?”
“No. Not really,” said Pieter sourly. “But for now it sounds convenient.”