Rise of the Altered Moon: Altered Moon Series: Book One (The Altered Moon Series 1) (16 page)

“That was fun,” said CJ. “Well done, G.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Let’s get back on our way, shall we?” said CJ. “Replot our course to Thraden and engage.”

“Aye, Captain,” Gina said, as she laid in the new heading and set the autopilot.

“GABI,” said CJ, turning to look at her. “Some time ago I asked you to project possible outcomes to our situation. Have you had time to do so?”

“Yes, Captain. Would you like me to present it here?”

“Yes, I believe everyone here should know what our options are.”

“Very well, Captain,” she began. “Option one: contacting clandestine resources. This option carries the least risk to the ship and crew, but also has the greatest likelihood of inaccurate information. Our current position is several days travel from the nearest known contact.

“Option two: contacting Merilee Travel & Transport. This option carries a high risk of danger to ship and crew as it has already been tried and was met with hostile reaction. Projections indicate that Merilee Travel & Transport is involved in or, at least aware of, the destruction of the
Istraulis
and has taken actions to suppress the knowledge.

“Option three: contacting Marlacuer Imperial Guard. This option contains many variables that make an accurate projection difficult. Past actions of the Marlacuer Empire show a cavalier response to threats against the sovereignty. I believe that it is called a ‘shoot first and ask questions later’ methodology.”

“It certainly is,” said Boss wryly.

“We’ll take the low risk of danger and hope any information we get will pay off somehow,” said CJ. “Boss, what did you have in mind for when we arrive in Thraden?”

“I suggest we pose as scrap collectors,” he said. “We can scrap
Lunar Mare
and trade other items to buy a short-range shuttle to replace her. We can use the wreckage to gain access to people who don’t care about a bill of sale. We ask around about any local areas that are open to a little under-the-radar kind of salvage and see what turns up. Maybe some obscure piece of knowledge will give us the clue we’re looking for.”

“Where were you planning to look first?” CJ asked.

“A spice smuggler told me of a space station in stationary orbit around the outside planet,” Boss explained. “It’s a planetoid, really, locked in place with one side always facing the sun. The station is on the dark side. Just the kind of place for folks who don’t want any light shed on their shady dealings. I suggest we start there. Its designation is QT Station, but it’s better known as ‘the backdoor.’”

“All right, people,” said CJ, taking his place at the command station. “Next stop, the backdoor.”

*~*~*

Chapter Twenty-One

The last leg of their journey to Arzian space went without a hitch. The quantum jump put them just outside the system and a few hours later they were pulled up to QT Station. The reputation of the place brewed up an image of a dark and smoky hole-in-the-wall, filled with intimidating characters who glared at you with scarred faces. QT Station was anything but dark, smoky, and intimidating.

The brightly lit, well-identified station looked more like an Imperial guard outpost than a den of organized crime. The first evidence of anything different with ‘the back door’ was a warning five hundred kilometers from the station. The message stated in no uncertain terms that any vessel crossing the perimeter would be destroyed. The message itself was not threatening. But the twelve missile lock warnings that blipped onto the sensor screens gave it power.

CJ and the crew waited until a response to their hail cleared them to approach the station. CJ had Gina wait until the missile warnings disappeared before they continued on their way. She brought the
Moon
up slow and steady to line up the ventral docking port with QT Station’s universal collar. The docking collar sealed against the bottom of the
Altered Moon
as the mooring struts locked onto the magnetic anchor plates.

“We’re docked and locked, Captain,” she said, as she powered down the flight systems.

“Thank you, G. Cat and GABI, stay with the ship. Cat, grab a sidearm and keep your eyes on the scanners. GABI, keep all systems on standby while we’re gone.”

Cat and GABI indicated their agreement and moved to follow CJ’s orders.

“Boss you take the lead. G and I will cover you,” said CJ. “Any idea what to expect?”

“None whatsoever,” answered Boss.

“Well then…let the game begin.” CJ used the game euphemism to honor Boss’ chosen theme for their heists. Although information was the only target for this score, the need for secrecy at this point was greater than ever.

The trio moved through the inner hatch of the airlock and sealed the door behind them. The pressure automatically equalized between station and ship. A green indicator light came on when the process was complete. CJ released the pressure safety locks and the outer door hissed and slid away. A short corridor led them to an airlock door that opened as they approached. A small greeting chamber on the other side of the door was so spartan that it made the stoic character who waited to greet them absolutely lively by comparison.

“I am Warden,” he said with no expression. “Please state your purpose here.” The man was slim and stood about a meter and a half tall. He had meticulously groomed short black hair and a small surveillance unit attached to the side of his head just behind his right temple. The grey and black one-piece suit was immaculately pressed and spotless with a slim black belt at the waist that seemed to be attached right to the fabric without any buckle. His eyes were disquieting; they were an opaque grey, with a depth that made you feel as though you were staring into infinity mirrors.

“We have salvaged goods to sell and need to purchase supplies and a planetary shuttle,” Boss replied.

“One moment please,” Warden said. The endless eyes showed no sign of activity as the eerie guy apparently communicated with someone or something inside the station. A door slid open in the far wall of the chamber. Warden raised his right arm at the elbow and indicated the open door. “The transtube at the end of this corridor will take you to the cargo processing division.”

“Thank you, Warden,” Boss said.

The three crewmates crossed the room, went down the corridor, and entered the waiting transtube. The strange man said nothing in return as he watched them walk by. He continued to observe them from the end of the corridor as the transtube door slid shut.

“He was friggin’ creepy,” said Gina.

“No doubt,” agreed CJ. “What was up with that guy?”

“
If
he was a guy,” said Boss.

The transtube came to a stop and the passengers were flooded with the noise, lights, and activity of the cargo processing division as the door slid open. It took several minutes for their eyes and ears to grow accustomed to the intensity of the area. Small robot-operated cargo crates ran their routes in between giant robotic cranes that moved everything from a few parcels to entire ships. The zip-rattle of impact tools mixed with spark-crackle of cutting lasers, while the deck vibrated from the heavy machinery that moved about.

A scraggly man in a work coverall walked up to them as he wiped greasy hands on an already-soiled red rag. “Whadda you wanna git rid ah?” he bellowed to be heard over the din.

“Salvage…I have an SRT-30 long-range shuttle,” Boss bellowed back. “Forward fuselage and cockpit are trashed. Engines and avionics are intact.”

“Whadda you wanna git back?” he bellowed again.

“Fully stocked long-range shuttle and ten thousand Shongrian rubies,” Boss yelled out.

“HAH! You git crap shuttle and still owe,” he stabbed a grime-encrusted finger in Boss’ direction.

“NO! A long-range shuttle and six fuel plates,” Boss narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in his suspensor chair.

“Mid-range shuttle, no fuel,” the man countered, and crossed his arms to show that he thought the deal was settled.

“Mid-range shuttle, six fuel plates, and we throw in five ration packs,” Boss countered loudly.

“Twenty food packs,” the man replied with refreshed interest.

“Ten,” was all Boss said.

“Done.” The man nodded his head once as he said it. “One SRT-30 shuttle and twenty food packs.”

“Ten. Ten ration packs,” Boss corrected him.

“Ten, that’s what I meaned to say,” the man reluctantly added.

“These are the dimensions of our shuttle bay,” Boss hollered over the commotion. “We’ll want to look over any shuttles that fit these specifications.”

“Have scrap and food packs released for transport,” the man yelled. He handed them three headsets and a purchase pad that had a floor layout and a list of available ships in their price range. “Follow indicator, enter ship ID number, and submit purchase. Shuttle and fuel plates will be taken to launch bay. You will pilot off station.” The man turned and walked away without so much as a ‘here’s your hat.’

They slipped on the headsets and the noise level dropped immediately. The relief was huge; hearing nothing never felt so good.

“Ahh…these would have been handy ten minutes ago.” Gina’s voice through the headset was loud and clear.

“No kidding,” agreed CJ.

“I know. I’m going to be hoarse for a week,” said Boss.

“What’s so bad about that?” teased Gina.

“Ha. Funny girl,” said Boss. “Let’s go find our new ride.”

The cargo processing division seemed bigger than what could fit inside the station. They walked along row after row of every ship part imaginable.

“Wilks would’ve loved this place,” said Gina. “She would’ve known every part by name and number.”

“Yeah,” was all CJ could say.

The rows of parts gave way to bigger bays that held huge engine modules, support struts, and fuselage framing. The ships began with personal system speeders and short-range planetary shuttles. Eventually they came to the six mid-range shuttles that were indicated on the purchase pad. Four were rejected when they first saw them. One even had a thermal shield panel that hung from bottom of the right wing. The last two ships were both mid-range shuttles, but they were very different designs.

The first shuttle had sensor ports tucked up into a swirling contour line on each side of the nose of the fuselage, giving the ship a sort of smile with an overbite. Two oversized round view ports sat high on each side of a long and narrow center view port where the pilot sat. When you looked at the ship, one word came to mind: ‘DUH.’

“Only if it was the last ship in the universe,” Gina said.

“Come on, G,” teased CJ. “Can’t you see yourself tooling around the system in this beauty?”

“Ugh,” she moaned, “it makes my eyes hurt.”

The next ship CJ took a liking to right away. The body was sleek and had a low-dorsal profile that led up to two rear fins set at a slight angle out over each side of the engine housing. The wings and fuselage were a deep purple metallic with black body markings and gunmetal grey highlights.

“It even has a particle cannon mounted under the nose,” CJ said, as he read the spec sheet on the shuttle. “Bascher Star Runner, standard mid-range, ten-passenger capacity. Huh. Says here this model was designed by Nelson Moon.”

“Really?” Boss asked, as he looked up at CJ and raised his eyebrows. “Well now, I think we’ve found our ship,” he said. “Gina should give it a once-over to make sure it’s flight ready.”

“Right. G, you’re up,” CJ said, as he looked over at her.

“I’m on it, Cap,” she said, and walked up the entry ramp. A short time later the shuttle flashed its lights, purged its cooling systems, and fired its thruster jets as Gina took it through the preflight checklist.

“Looks good, Captain,” Boss said to CJ.

“Cat, this is CJ. How do you read?” CJ called into the comms unit.

“Loud and clear, Captain, go ahead,” came her reply.

“Crate up ten ration packs and lash them to the wreckage. Open the shuttle bay doors and prepare to release
Lunar Mare
’s wreckage for pickup.”

“Roger that. On the way.”

CJ gave Boss the nod and Boss initiated the transfer. So much time passed that they began to wonder if there was some kind of problem. The indicator on the datpad turned green and the words “TRANSFER COMPLETE” flashed three times, followed by “SHUTTLE 33939 DOCKING CLAMPS RELEASED.” A dozen yellow caution lights spun to life as a warning claxon went off. A message came over their headsets. “Please insert purchase pad into console and board your vessel. You will be taxied to the launch bay for immediate departure.”

Boss inserted the purchase pad into the slot marked with a corresponding icon; then he and CJ boarded their newly acquired shuttle.

“Wow, this is nice,” CJ said, as he stepped into the crew cabin. “Bucket seats each with their own view port. Hey, why can’t you see these windows from the outside?”

“They aren’t view ports,” Boss explained. “They’re view screens that are linked to sensors on the outside of the ship. It puts the passengers at ease during longer flights without compromising hull integrity with a view port.”

“These flight controls are set up perfectly,” purred Gina. “Everything is right where it needs to be. This Nelson buddy of yours, he builds a hell of a ship.”

“Yes he does,” said Boss. “I hope we can tell him that in person.”

“Shuttle 33939, this is QT Control. Prepare for taxi,” came over the comms.

“Copy QT Control, this is shuttle 3-3-9er-3-9er, we are loaded and ready for departure,” Gina replied.

The shuttle rocked a little as the pad that the shuttle sat on began to move on its way to the launch bay. The trip was relatively short as the ships were kept in close proximity to the launch bay. The shuttle and pad moved into a domed hangar through a set of airlock pressure doors that were five times the size of the ship. The shuttle rocked a little again as the pad came to a stop in the middle of the launch bay. The massive pressure doors closed behind them with the thump of a falling mountainside. Emergency lights came on, warning of imminent depressurization.

“Shuttle 33939, depressurizing now, free-float in thirty seconds,” came over the comms from QT Control.

“Roger that, QT, 3-3-9er-3-9er is ready for launch,” Gina answered, as she powered up the flight control systems.

The domed doors of the launch bay flashed a series of red lights that ran along each side of the door seam. Black space and the ever-present field of stars welcomed them back from their trip inside the station. Gina fired the ventral thrusters for a three-second burst, then fired two more one-second bursts to give the shuttle just enough lift to clear the pad and retract the landing gear. She gunned the three primary engines, which sent the shuttle off in high acceleration. She took the Star Runner model shuttle through a series of high-speed turns and a barrel roll just to see how the ship handled.

“Whoohoo, I love this ship,” she said through a huge grin.

Boss looked over at her with a ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing’ look on his face. It was probably taking everything he had to keep himself in his suspensor chair during Gina’s shenanigans. “I’m not strapped into this thing, you know,” he scolded her. “If I fall out, that’s assault on a senior officer. I
will
confine you to
our
quarters.”

“Sorry, sir,” Gina apologized. “Just seeing how she goes.”

“She does go well, doesn’t she?” Boss said, this time with a big grin on his face. “Captain, the privilege of naming her is yours.”

CJ looked down for a moment, “
Moonshadow
.”

Gina shrugged slightly, “That’s not so bad. I kinda like it.”

“Me too,” Boss nodded. “Well then, Captain,
Moonshadow
it is. We’ll give her a proper naming ceremony when we can.”