Search for the Phoenix: Phoenix Series Book 2 (11 page)

Nolan had waited nearly an hour before executing the jumps, wanting to be certain SACOM wasn’t tracking him before he committed to this important intermediate destination. If they followed him, he’d be putting an innocent person in grave danger. When the image on the forward view screen settled after the last jump, he checked his precise location with respect to the system’s outer planets. He had ended exactly where he wanted to be. This system’s only gas giant was on the far side of the central star, and he was roughly halfway between the two small outer planets. There was a lot of open space between him and Pax.
Three days at sub-light speed, or a short jump to cut that to under a day.
He stared at the screen.
Open space.
He drummed his fingers on the console for a while, and then began entering coordinates for a very risky hyperspace jump.

* * * *

Boo Jensen stood at her kitchen sink looking across her vast empire. That was what she liked to call it. Some people called it junk. She preferred ‘valuable commodities’. Everything here could easily be sold or traded for a profit. She was selective about what she bought, turning away anything that wouldn’t make her richer. One rather pleasant side effect of this policy was that very few traders wasted her time by showing up with crap. They brought her the best, or they went somewhere else.

She was drying the last of her breakfast and lunch dishes when her data unit chimed. She finished drying a plate, and then put it into the cupboard. Pulling out her data unit, she stepped through the door and onto her back porch. It was another muggy day, and she welcomed an excuse to spend a few extra minutes in the shade before going back to work. The message appeared.

Boo,

I have 22 kilograms of ytterbium to trade. I also have a pod full of office supplies I’d like to unload, if I can.

Alfons

She smiled as she looked at her watch. Alfons was Carl Wilkins. It had been a while since he was last here. Twenty-two kilograms of ytterbium meant he was arriving in twenty-two hours. A pod full of office supplies meant he needed to drop out of sight for a while.
Carl better have something valuable for me if he wants to hide here,
she thought. She quickly typed a reply.

Alfons,

Good to hear from you again, it’s been a while. Looking forward to seeing the ytterbium. 22 kilograms will be welcome. As for the pod full of office supplies, we can work a deal.

Boo

Well,
she thought,
he now knows that his arrival time is acceptable, and that laying low here will cost him.
Slipping the data unit into the pocket of her overalls, she stepped off the porch and into the midday heat.

* * * *

It was mid-afternoon the next day when a shadow passed over Boo’s yard. She looked up as the Independence floated across the sky, turned, and then slowly settled in the field behind her hangar. Putting down the pieces she had been sorting, she walked across the yard to the hangar and went inside. The full light of day beating down on the translucent roof made it warm inside, but it was still more comfortable than being outside, the air conditioning system having removed the worst of the humidity. She reached the back door and stepped out as the Independence’s ramp began to lower. Standing in the broad daylight looking into the relatively dark interior of the ship, she thought she could make out a pair of legs standing at the top of the ramp. The end touched the ground and she heard footsteps. Here came the legs, and then a torso. “Hello, Carl,” she said, but stopped when the man stepped out of the shadows and into daylight.

“You’re a lot shorter than I remembered,” he said.

“And you’re a lot taller than I remembered, Nolan Peters,” she replied.

“Everyone is taller than you remember, Boo,” he said.

She smiled. “True enough. What I lack in height, I make up for in brains. Where’s Carl?”

“He’s… not here,” Nolan said.

Her smile vanished. “Then why are you here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Good thing I have some free time, then. But don’t take too long in the telling. Our days are only twenty hours long here, and this one’s more than half over,” she said. She pointed to the ship. “And the rest of the crew?”

“Not here,” he replied. “Can I move the ship into your hangar?”

Her sandy eyebrows rose. “Afraid it will melt?”

“No, I need to make a few changes, and I would like to keep it out of sight until the work is completed,” he said.

“Carl and I had an understanding. Seeing as he isn’t here and it’s just the two of us, you and I need to have an understanding. My rules are simple. I’m here to make a profit. If you need something from me, it will cost you. Do you have something to offer?” she asked.

“Will you take credits?” he asked hopefully.

“If you’re talking about chips, yes. I don’t take payment cards.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m offering chips.”

Boo nodded. “You go and power up your retrograv. I’ll open the hangar doors.”

The Independence settled onto its landing struts inside the hangar. The ramp motors whirred and the ramp slowly lowered. Boo stood waiting nearby as Nolan walked down and onto the hangar floor.

“So, what’s this all about?” she asked.

“Why don’t you come into the ship? It’s a lot cooler inside, and we can sit down.”

She nodded and walked toward the ramp. Nolan turned and went up. After a few turns, they ended up in the galley.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything to eat at the moment. My food synthesizer is shut down,” he said.

“I can sell you a working unit,” she said.

“It’s not broken. I had to power it down to make the trip.”

“Do you need a new power unit?” she asked.

Nolan laughed. “No, thanks. My power unit is fine.”

“No matter about the food. I don’t eat that computer-generated junk. It tastes like software,” she said. “You said it was a long story. I suggest you start telling it, because I need to decide if you’re staying or leaving.”

Nolan had spent hours thinking about this moment, deciding what to say, how much of the story to share with Boo, a person who barely knew him and owed him nothing. He had worked out what he would say and decided to stick with that. Last minute changes could lead to mistakes. He began by telling her about the deaths of the four crew members and how SACOM had been responsible, giving her as many details as he felt he could. He told her about the trial, and then about Carl’s mysterious disappearance. Forty-five minutes had passed when he finally finished. “And that brings me here.”

“I think I get the picture. What I don’t understand is what you are doing and why you’re here,” she said.

“I need to find Carl. I think he may be in danger. I know for certain SACOM is desperate to get their hands on him again, and that can’t be good,” he said.

“Okay, but why are you here?” she asked.

“I have new registration data for the ship. I need to repaint the name and hull markings, and then I’ll be gone.”

Boo nodded. “All right. Where SACOM is concerned, the less I know, the better. You’ve told me enough. I just want to know one thing—did they follow you here?”

Nolan shook his head. “They tried to. They put a tracker on my ship, but I cut the power to it. I changed the registration in the core and made several jumps before I got here. As far as SACOM can tell, the Independence has vanished in deep space.” He spread his arms and said, “Welcome to the Griffin.”

“Well, you have work to do. I suggest you get started,” she said.

Boo brought a large stepladder over and set it up next to the ship. “You climb up and start looking for that tracker. I’m a decent artist. I’ll repaint the markings.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

“My time is mine to spend,” she said. “Carl always brought me the best goods. I’ve made a small fortune, thanks to him. If I can help, I’m glad to. You get up there and leave the painting to me.”

As Nolan climbed the ladder, Boo turned and walked away. “I’m going to get my paints and brushes. Back in a few minutes.”

The ladder was wobbly and a little too short, but Nolan managed to pull himself up onto the top of the ship.
The tracker has to be on the outside of the hull. It wouldn’t work from inside.
He knew this ship better than anyone. If there were anything new, he’d know it. He began carefully examining the hull bit by bit.

Boo returned carrying a large box and set it down. “I’m moving the ladder!” she yelled. When Nolan didn’t respond, she shrugged and began dragging the ladder forward, positioning it next to the spot where ‘Independence’ was painted in large letters. She climbed part way up and studied the panel for a while. “The light in here sucks,” she said. “I’ll never get the colors right.” She climbed down and set off across the hangar again.

Several minutes later, she returned carrying a tripod with several lamps mounted on top. The power cord was trailing off into the shadows near the far wall. Putting it down, she turned on the lights and then adjusted them to shine on her workspace. With the panel brightly lit, she stared for a while. Then she rummaged through her box, setting various items on the floor. She poured some grey paint into a bucket. Then she stirred in a little white. She eyed it critically, and then added a touch of green, stirring it again. Grabbing a broad brush, she climbed the ladder and painted a small patch, then climbed down again and stared.

Nolan appeared above her, wondering what the bright light was for, and watched as she stood there looking up, motionless. Finally, he asked, “What are you doing?”

Without taking her eyes off the patch, she smiled and said, “I’m watching paint dry.”

“Oh,” he said. “Why are you watching paint dry?”

She sighed. “Because paint changes color as it dries. I need to know if I got the color right before I paint the entire panel.”

He leaned a little farther over the edge and looked. “It looks good to me,” he said.

“Hah!” she exclaimed. “Shows what you know. You just look for the tracker and let me work,” she said sharply.

Nolan turned and resumed his search.

“It needs a touch of blue,” she said.

It was nearly two hours later when Nolan appeared above the spot where Boo had been working. She was now sitting on the floor, staring up at her work. “I found the tracker and removed it,” he said, holding a small box with wires hanging out of one end. She didn’t respond. “I’d like to come down now,” he added.

Without a word, Boo stretched out one arm and pointed. Nolan looked and saw that the ladder was back where he had climbed up. He watched her for a moment. She just stared. He turned and went to the ladder.

When Nolan came around behind her, he stopped short and gasped. Then, eyes fixed on the artwork, he stepped forward and sat beside her.

Boo, having studied her handiwork for some time, turned to him and asked, “What do you think?”

The entire panel, which once had sported the single word “Independence” in simple, block text, had been given a fresh coat of paint. Over that, Boo had painted the most lifelike portrait of a Griffin he had ever seen. The lion’s body had shading outlining its powerful muscles. Its fur was a golden brown. Individual hairs could be seen in the tuft at the end of its tail. The creature’s eagle head was detailed down to individual ridges on each feather. There was a glint of light in its steely eye. Below the creature in a bold, Gothic script, “Griffin” was written. As he stared, something bothered him. Something wasn’t as it should be. Then he realized that Boo had added stains and streaks to match the adjacent panel. She had painted on stains. It was all new, yet it looked twenty years old.

“It’s remarkable,” he said. “I mean… it looks like a beautiful work of art that was painted two decades ago and then flown to half the spaceports in the galaxy.”

“That’s the point,” she said. “What were you going to do? Paint a black line through ‘Independence’ and write ‘Griffin’ below it?”

“No, I… I don’t know what I was going to do.”

“Then it’s a good thing you came here,” she said with a laugh.

“Wow!” he said.

“You’ll probably say that again when you get my bill.” And with that, she stood. Picking up her box of supplies, she began walking around the ship. “I charge extra for moving my own ladder,” she said as she disappeared around the front landing strut. Nolan jumped up, grabbed the ladder, and began dragging it after her. “It’s faster if you fold it and carry it,” she said. He stopped, folded the ladder, and then jogged around the ship.

“Once I finish this, I need to repaint the hull numbers,” she said as Nolan began unfolding the stepladder.

“And then I’ll be on my way,” he said.

“You need to let the paint dry. You can’t take wet paint streaking through the atmosphere and off into the vacuum of space. You’ll destroy my work,” she said as she climbed the ladder.