Drifters' Alliance, Book 2 (7 page)

“And how long will that be, do you think?” She sounds tough, but she’ll never be as tough as I am.

“Until I take my last breath, whether it’s a hundred years or ten minutes from now.”

I walk over to the portal and leave her standing there.

“What am I supposed to do now? Do you expect me to go to the brig?”

I shake my head as I walk over the threshold. “Nope. I know you built this grid with the help of your people. How you got them on this ship, got them working on building this monster, and then got them off again without Langlade knowing … well, you’ll tell me eventually. Until then, I’ll wait. It’s enough right now that I know and that you know I know.”

I can feel her frustration burning through the back of my head, but she says nothing, so I just keep on going. I have other matters to take in hand, and the issue of this biogrid isn’t going anywhere. One day she’ll tell me about her world, if I’m patient and respectful and tough as nails. And I’m pretty damn sure I can be all those things.

The voice of one of the gingers comes out into the corridor via an overhead comm box as I make my way up to the flight deck, interrupting my thoughts about Lucinda and her super secret, go-go gadget biogrid building crew.

“Attention, attention, all crewmembers, this is engineering. We have a vacuum cycle underway, so don’t be surprised if your hair starts standing on end in about two minutes. As you wait for that tingly feeling, please don’t hesitate to bring all potential target practice items to the cargo area as directed by her ladyness, Captain Cass. That is all. Engineering out.”

I smile as the first layer of hair on my head starts to lift and bits of dust and other random particles begin floating toward the nearest intake vents at the floor near my feet. We’ll have a nearly clean ship in just a few hours, and then we’ll spend the rest of our wait on the Alliance getting the rest of her spiffed up. She’ll be like new the next time Beltz steps foot on her.

I reach the flight deck just as an alarm begins to sound, telling me we have company within shooting distance.

Chapter Nine

I RUSH TO THE CAPTAIN’S chair while my blood pumps double time through my veins. Adelle has been monitoring the systems while I’ve been making the rounds of the ship welcoming my crew to their new world, and I instructed her to only contact me if there was a direct threat. As I look out the clearpanel at the ship approaching, I realize I should have been less specific about what she was supposed to be guarding against. Next time, I’ll tell her to alert me when anyone or anything gets within a hundred klicks of our position.

I flick the all-comm button on at my array as I drop into my seat. “Attention all crewmembers, we have a craft of unknown identity approaching. Please report to your stations if you aren’t already there. Engineering, our shields are going hot, so put a pause on that cycle.”
 
The vacuum cycle is going to have to wait. I need the power for whatever this is.

After flipping off the all-comm and putting some extra shield percentage in place, I focus my attention on the approaching ship. It appears to be a PC of some sort, but bigger than the one that buzzed us at the last station. Normally, a craft off in the distance, especially one of this size, isn’t anything to get riled up about without more obvious signs of aggression, but I’m not taking any chances right now with the recent change in the OSG’s policies on water control. Who the hell knows what’s going to happen next in our world? This thing could be the front runner of a giant scavenger corps.

The door to the flightdeck slides open, and Baebong walks through it to join me. “What’ve we got?” He practically flings himself into his chair and spins it toward the clearpanel, pressing several buttons that bring up the coordination chart. If it’s calibrated correctly, it will tell him how far this craft is from our position and where it will be for the next several minutes in relation to us, assuming the craft maintains a constant speed.

I point at the clearpanel, calling attention to the craft’s back-angled wing formation and small, arrow-like body style. “Looks like a PC. Not the same one that buzzed us at the station, though.” Not that it
could
be that guy. We didn’t broadcast our intended destination before night crawling, so there’s no way that pilot would have been able to follow us. If he’d been pulled into the vortex along with us, we would have gotten an alert from Adelle.
Or we should have, anyway.

“Adelle?” I wait impatiently for the compubot to answer.

“Yes, Captain.”

“When we night crawled the other day, did we bring anyone with us?”

“No, Captain.”

“Are you programmed to alert me automatically when that happens?”

“Yes, Captain, I am.”

“Is there any reason why you would ignore that programming?”

“I am sorry, Captain, but I do not understand the question.”

Baebong looks over at me, confused. I guess he and the computer are on the same page — the one that says computers can’t ignore their programming. But both of them are forgetting that one time when they did, when everything in our ancient world went up in smoke.

After I heard the stories about our world ending, about the viruses, the bombs, and the reaction of the computers after the dust settled, I never totally trusted a non-sentient being again. Raised in a household where computers did almost everything a human could do only made me more suspicious of their entire race. That’s how revolutions start … right under your nose and even inside your own home sometimes. After all, it was a computer who helped me escape my personal prison, and I know for damn sure my father never programmed it to do that. I took its chip with me when I left so that he couldn’t destroy it. The sentimental part of me entertains the idea of resurrecting my savior inside another host one day. The smarter version of myself fears what that means about both the compubot and me. Until then, the chip remains inactive and on my person, in a tiny compartment sewn into my jacket that no one but me knows about.

Jeffers enters the flightdeck chamber from the other door, to my left. I watch as he takes a seat in the other available chair. “What is that?” he asks. “Do we know who’s piloting?”

I shake my head, staring at the ship as it gets closer and closer. Something about it looks off. I realize that not everyone flies nose forward, but it’s usually when there’s something wrong with the azimuth indicators that they fly kind of off-kilter like this one is. He’s not sending out a distress signal of any kind, though, otherwise we’d be hearing it right now.

I’m guess I’m used to ships looking more … purposeful. This one is just floating, letting some small thrust given a long time ago send it where it’s going. It’s possible a piece of space junk bumped into it and knocked it off level, but anyone on board would have probably straightened her out if that were the case. It’s almost as if it’s just limping along instead of actually trying to reach a destination. Or at least, that’s the impression it’s
trying
to give. There are no alarm bells ringing on my ship, but they’re clanging like crazy in my head.

“Try to reach it,” I say to Baebong, hoping my internal alarms are just overblown paranoia. I suppose it’s possible this PC could be experiencing an emergency even without a distress signal, and if the ship is in trouble, I’m not against helping its captain out. He can’t have more than one other person on board with the size of the thing being what it is — maybe two, max. Turning into a jellyfish out in the Dark with no gravitational field to keep my feet on the ground and my bones strong is my worst nightmare, so I’d never leave someone else to that fate if I could help it.
Besides, it’s just common courtesy not to let your fellow human turn to jelly, right?

I try to let that good Samaritan vibe calm my nerves, but it’s not helping all that much. One of the best cons in the universe is the lame duck gambit. I’ve played it enough times myself to know it’s very effective when there are sentimental suckers around.

My lieutenant’s fingers fly over his array, and a beep rings out into the flightdeck space, indicating the system’s readiness for his transmission. I let him handle the first contact attempt, certain he knows to use the three closest locator beacons to our position followed by the one farthest for directional purposes. It’s something almost everyone pretty much grows up learning how to do, even if they’ve been a Havenot all their lives like I suspect he has.

Baebong’s voice sounds almost robotic as he reads the numbers off his screen. “Unknown personal craft at coordinates: x-ray 432, yankee 661, zulu 89, trajectory bravo, 10 meters per second, this is the DS Anarchy in your eleven o’clock, approximately three klicks, extending a reach, over.”

We wait in total silence for a response but get none.
 
A couple minutes later, I nod at Baebong to let him know he can re-transmit with the newer coordinates that have changed with every meter the ship has advanced.

“Unknown personal craft now at coordinates x-ray 438, yankee 672, zulu 71, trajectory bravo, 10 meters per second, this is the DS Anarchy in your eleven o’clock, approximately two klicks, extending a reach, over.” His tone is more aggravated, matching the status of my nerves.

I’m opening my mouth to tell Baebong to get our space junk vaporizers up and ready when we receive a response to our reach.

“Reach accepted, DS Anarchy. Hello there!” This man’s voice can only be characterized as …
jolly?
“This is the PC Cruiser Mahalo, Captain Bob at the helm. Not sure we’ve met, as I don’t recognize your voice. Who’s your captain?” He sounds way too friendly to be trusted. Nobody appears out of thin air and acts that casual in my experience, especially someone who appears to be experiencing some sort of mechanical distress. The idea that he’s pretending to be a lame duck strengthens in my mind.

I shake my head at Baebong when he looks at me for confirmation, so he sits back and lets me do the talking.

“PC Mahalo, advise your intent,” I say.
Not buying the bullshit, dude. Give it up.

It takes him almost a full minute to respond. By that time, he’s less than a klick away, and we can see into his clearpanels. No one is visible, and that’s not a good sign as far as I’m concerned. I’ve heard stories about ships being piloted from a distance, being used as decoys, and it’s never for friendly purposes. And even though no one would have any call to use that tactic on us, I’m still on hyper alert. Cold sweats arrive, making me want to turn my seat’s heater on, but I ignore the impulse.

“My intent?” Jolly Captain Bob finally says. “Well, I don’t really have any intent, other than to just cruise around the galaxy, see what there is to see. The moons around Dalaga are especially pretty right now, in case you haven’t heard. They’re not that far from here if you’d like to tag along.”

Baebong and Jeffers both turn to stare at me, looking as lost as I feel. I shrug my shoulders in response. This has got to be a joke. This guy is acting like we’re best friends, but I’d remember a good old boy like this Bob person if I’d ever met him before, and I just don’t. So, either he’s a stranger who’s suffering a weird case of Darksickness, or he’s perfectly sane and putting on a hell of a show for purposes that could only mean bad news for my crew and me. He wants something from us, no doubt about it.
But what could it be?

Chapter Ten

I PRESS THE COMM BUTTON to respond to Captain Bob’s invitation to visit Dalaga’s moons with him. “No, thanks. We’re headed in the other direction.” I mute the comm and look to my crew. “What the hell is this all about? Have either of you ever heard of this PC Mahalo or Captain Bob?”

They both shake their heads but say nothing.

I nod as I contemplate our options, staring out the clearpanel at the small ship still limping along. It’ll pass within ten meters of our starboard side shortly if we don’t change direction, and I don’t like the idea of it getting that close.

“That’s too bad,” Captain Bob says, sounding a little disappointed. Or stressed, maybe.

I’m not sure if I feel that way about the flavor of his transmission because I’m really sensing it or because I’m just paranoid and reading stress into anything I hear.

He breaks my concentration by adding to his last transmission. “Listen, I’m uh, running a little short on water. Any chance you’d be willing to stock me up?”

Baebong’s head shakes no, but he doesn’t look at me. Jeffers turns his chair to observe my next move.

The alarm bells are ringing like crazy in my head again. If he needs water, he’s going the wrong way.

“Water’s in short supply everywhere, in case you haven’t heard. Why are you headed away from it if you’re short?”

Jeffers nods and turns around to watch the PC through the clearpanel. I feel as though he’s approved my transmission, and I’m annoyed that it makes me want to smile in satisfaction and self-pride.
He’s not your parent or your superior. Stop seeking his approval.

Captain Bob doesn’t answer right away, which only serves to heighten my sense of foreboding. “Lock onto his position with the junk vaporizers,” I say to my lieutenant after muting the comm. “We can at least knock him off that trajectory. Give us some more personal space.”

Baebong speaks facing the clearpanel, his hand hovering over his array. “You want an actual lock? Because you know he’ll get an alert if he has his sensors up.”

“Yes, I know that, thanks. And of course, not an actual lock. Just visual. Be cool about it. We don’t have enough power to vaporize him, anyway. I just want to deflect him or anything that he might be stupid enough to send our way.” Battling with those puny vaporizers is not an optimal setup, but Baebong and his cohorts haven’t had enough time to outfit our ship with anything better, and our shields aren’t that great against certain weapons this guy could be packing, so this is all I have to work with. I’m hoping I won’t have to use the stuff at all.

“Oh, I have enough water to last me,” says Captain Bob. “Just thought I’d take the opportunity to top my levels.”

Now he’s just pissing me off. A frigging vulture is just what I need in my life right now. “Well, we’re not exactly full ourselves, so how about I top my levels with what
you’ve
got?”