Voyage of the Sanguine Shadow 1: Shadow Galactic (28 page)

Proudly, Hull directed the admiral to Gavin’s
quarters, the last location entry in the starship’s log for Zerki, Valerie and
Gavin.  With Hull at his back, Dryden made his way through the officers’
quarters to Gavin’s cabin and tapped the entry request panel.  Moments passed
with no answer, and he hailed the occupants again.

“They’ve been bunking here the past couple
nights,” Hull said.  “They’re usually up pretty late, so I let them sleep in. 
Seems only fair, for all they’ve done for us, and they’re not exactly the
military types.  Ragged around the edges, if you catch my meaning, sir.”

“I catch your meaning.”  Dryden faced him.  “Can
you get me a ship’s status report?”

Hull nodded eagerly.  “Of course, sir!  I’ll be
right back.”

With a thin smile, Dryden put his hands behind his
back and followed Captain Hull with his eyes until he was out of sight.  He
turned back around and placed his hand on the scanner.  The console beeped, and
a tiny light turned from red to green before the door slid away.  He stepped
inside.

Zerki, Valerie and Gavin weren’t there.  He
checked behind the pane of smoky glass, but he found no sign of them.  His eyes
drifted to the wall near Gavin’s bed, where he found a portrait of the
Sanguine
Shadow
.  Dryden Decker returned his hands to the small of his back and
smiled knowingly.

Hull arrived as Gavin’s door closed behind
Dryden.  “Sir, is everything OK?”

Dryden nodded.  “Just fine.”  He regarded the
Wraithfin
’s
captain.  “Command has need of Gavin’s skills for a deep cover operation. 
Valerie and Zerki have been assigned to him, and they’re all making
preparations for departure.”

“They’re AWOL, aren’t they, sir.”

Dryden smiled implacably.  “We’ll see them again.”

“Damn it,” growled Hull.  “I knew I should’ve
thrown him in the brig as soon as he got back from the summit!  Don’t worry,
sir, I’ll issue a Union-wide order to have him and his friends picked up if
they land on any of our territories.  I’ll order his family be taken into
custody immediately.”

“You’ll do no such thing.  In fact, I want you to
get Gavin and his entire crew blanket immunity.”

Hull cleared his throat.  “Sir?”

“If we treat Gavin like a monster, that’s exactly
what he’ll become.”  He stared absently down the hall, slowly shaking his
head.  “Make no mistake, Captain Hull.  He could destroy this entire station
with a single thought.  Hell, he has the power to destroy planets!  Eventually,
he’ll realize that, and the fate of the Union will be determined largely by the
mood he’s in when he does.”

Dryden began walking, and Hull followed close
behind.  The admiral continued, “He’ll be on this deep cover operation for as
long as it takes us to understand the data we gathered during the Battle of
Thasad.  There’s a lot to sift through, but once we know how Gavin ticks, we’ll
reel him in.  Then, he
will
dance for us.”

“Yes, sir.  Sorry, sir.”

“No need to be sorry.”

“
I know
in my heart that man is good.  That what is right will always eventually
triumph.  And there's purpose and worth to each and every life.
” –Ronald
Reagan

The elevated train zipped
along its track, double-thumping quietly and rhythmically is it moved. 
Twilight darkened the skies, and the lights of New Falkirk slowly awakened
beyond the train’s windows.  Fountains of color bathed the spires, and
crystalline obelisks shifted slowly from white to yellow, to blue and back to
white again.  Channels of light surged to life, embedded within clustered domes
and globes.  Every building wore a colorful cloak or had been outlined in
brilliant blue or white.  They formed halos in the rain.

Takeo, Filan and Fogg soon arrived at the station
nearest the shipyards.  The rain had grown more determined while they
traveled.  It splashed down in curtains around the station’s awning, and the
three huddled close while Filan hunted down local hotel information at a
municipal data terminal.  “Perhaps we should visit the auction shipyards
tomorrow morning,” said Fogg.  “The shipyards may still be open, but it is
doubtful in this weather.”

“I’m sure the good starships go quickly, anyway,”
agreed Takeo.  “There’d probably only be a poor selection available right now,
rain or shine.”

Fogg nodded and smiled somewhat.

Filan straightened and regarded her friends.  “You
know, there’s a Capsuloreum not too far from here.  It’s a little pricey, but
we can definitely afford it for one night.” 

The Capsuloreum chain of exotic hotels was known
for many things, not the least of which was its corporate slogan: “The square
root of sense, the square of value, the derivative of comfort.”  Each structure
was unique, vast in size and scope, built around opposing gravity keels and
integrated repulsors.  Most viewers found themselves stumped as they gazed upon
a Capsuloreum for the first time, trying to make sense of endless stairs,
Mobius footpaths and roofs that faced one another across short distances.  Each
hotel was a local legend in its own right and often attracted tourists from
distant worlds.

In addition to the exterior experience, Capsuloreums
were famous for their rooms.  Whenever guests checked in, hotel computers
assigned a random theme and printed out furniture sized precisely for each
occupant.  Upon checkout, the room was gutted, its furniture dematerialized and
stored for later use.

Filan grinned hopefully.  “You guys want to go? 
I’ve always wanted to sleep on a bed made just for me.”

“I am intrigued,” said Fogg.  “I support this
decision.”

“So do I,” said Takeo.  Looking to Filan, he said,
“Lead the way.”

They took the lift to ground level, covering
themselves with their jackets as they hurried for a taxi stop.  An automated
cab pulled up promptly upon their arrival.  Buoyed by a magnetic undercarriage,
its curved outer shell was made of tinted, traffic-grade transparent aluminum. 
It seated up to four passengers.  A pair of white, egg-shaped chairs stood
behind the glassy dashboard on a plastic floor of chartreuse green, and two
slightly smaller egg-seats stood behind them at the extent of a gentle downward
curve.

Without delay, the three climbed in, and Filan
stated their destination.  Silently, the taxi glided into motion as rain drove
upon its glassy shell.  “This vehicle is hovering low to the ground,” Fogg
noted.  “I suspect its repulsors are on the verge of failure.”

“It’s probably a mag-lev system,” supposed Takeo. 
“Municipal would never spend that much money on a fleet of sky taxis.”

Fogg puffed his cheeks.  “That is more likely.”

Before long, they reached the New Falkirk
Capsuloreum and exited the cab.  Despite the rain, a small crowd stood under a
crescent of softly glowing awnings.  They shot pictures and video, clustered in
groups of friends, with the occasional lone viewer.  Nearby, a snack and coffee
shop was busy with patrons seeking warmth and shelter.

What they gazed upon gave Takeo and Filan pause. 
Fogg retained his unfailing curiosity.  Before them stood a field of stunted
cylindrical pylons mounted to square, sloped bases.  The columns glowed softly,
and the bases were trimmed in brilliant blue and yellow.  They held aloft a bed
of massive, illuminated spheres, the sum of the hotel’s guest rooms.  At the
heart of the cluster, an enormous glass disk hovered, the Capsuloreum’s
featured restaurant and night club.  Bright and colorful lights flashed within,
and opposing gravity keels allowed the guests to dance upon the floor and
ceiling alike.

Filan led the way to the guest register directly
under the disk.  They paid for a single room and rode a lift hidden within one
of the columns.  A hatch swung open as they approached, and they stepped off
onto a circular landing.  They followed a set of spiral stairs to a fantastic
wooden door outlined in flowers and vines.  Beyond it, they found their
quarters, decorated with bright and whimsical holograms.  Oversized flowers,
toadstools and grass gave them the impression they had been miniaturized.

They ordered room service and lost themselves in
cheerful conversation as they ate.  Hours later, they settled down to sleep. 
Filan took one bed, Takeo took another, and Fogg slumbered on the third.

By first light, one of the beds was empty, and
Filan lay next to Takeo snug against his back, her arm draped over his side. 
He held her hand as he slept.  Fogg quietly awoke and stood up to stretch.  He
took his time in the shower, enjoying the sensations of warm water splashing
upon his skin, and he unhurriedly got dressed.  Carefully, he jostled Takeo’s
shoulder, and his friend sleepily opened his eyes.  “I am going to acquire some
breakfast.  After that, I mean to head for the shipyards.”

“I can be ready in ten minutes,” Takeo croaked,
and he ran his tongue over his lips with a look of distaste.  “You don’t want
to wait for me?”

Fogg lifted Filan’s hand from Takeo’s grip and let
it drop with a limp smack against his arm.  She muttered something in her sleep
and briefly stretched before settling.  “It is unlikely that you will be ready
in ten minutes.”  He regarded them warmly.  “This moment that you are sharing
is of far more value than keeping me company as I attempt to secure the most
advantageous purchase price for a used starship.”  With a polite smile, he
added, “Please trust me.”

Drowsily, Takeo pulled Filan’s hand closer and
said, “Thanks, Fogg.  We’ll meet you at the shipyards in an hour or two.”

“I look forward to your arrival.”

Fogg stepped onto the exit plate.  After a three
count, it transported him down to the foyer.  He finished his breakfast, and
Fogg thanked the concierge before exiting the lobby.  He stepped out into a
bright, cloudy morning.  The sidewalks were still soaked, and the air had the
distinct smell that only follows a good rain.  With spring in his step, Fogg
boarded a cab that carried him to the New Falkirk Metropolitan Shipyards

As vast as a starport, the shipyards were a
clutter of dry-docked vessels ranging from the personal to the titanic. 
Interspersed were holograms of even greater starships for sale, locked in
geosynchronous orbit because they were too large, too damaged or too awkward to
come planetside.  Hulls glistened in the rising sun.

Not long after he had arrived, a security guard
opened the gates, and Fogg joined a dozen other shoppers as they quietly
entered.  Already, bid placards had begun ticking up on many of the prized
personal vessels.  He passed by most of the stock, walking until he had found
the starship he sought.

Its placard read, “
UNSS Axiom
– AGSR
23019.”  Its fore half was spherical in shape and stood ten decks tell, twice
as tall as the rest of the starship.  The bridge was seated dead center on top
and curved down into the aft section.  Four decks spanned the squat, lengthy
rear half and served as mounts for a quartet of articulated thruster nacelles,
two of which doubled as landing struts.

He tabbed through her status lines.  Much of the
interior needed cosmetic and functional attention, but her hull was sealed, her
self-replenishing fuel core fully charged, and her internal framework was in
excellent condition.  Life support still worked, and while the hydroponics deck
was listed as “overgrown,” Fogg was unconcerned.

“This is the ideal vessel for our needs,” he said
quietly with a grin, and he looked around for an attendant.  After a bit of
searching he found one, and the fellow patiently explained to him how the
bidding system worked.  Excitedly, Fogg returned to the
Axiom
and placed
his bid increments.  The buyout price was more than he had to spend, but not by
much, and he was willing to commit every last credit he could spare.

By midmorning, Takeo and Filan had arrived.

“How’s it going?” asked Takeo.  Filan leaned
sleepily against him.

Fogg smiled nervously.  “I enjoy this sensation! 
There is a thrilling level of uncertainty mixed with competitiveness that is
most invigorating!  As of this moment, there has only been one other person who
has bid on the
Axiom
, and this individual only raised the price by two
thousand credits.”

“What’s the buyout price?”

Fogg called up the sales information on the
placard and read the buyout price aloud.

Takeo widened his eyes for a moment.  “That’s cheap!” 
He chuckled wryly.  “What’s wrong with her?”

“The interior needs a good deal of work, and the
vessel is 97 years old,” replied Fogg.  “Aside from that, she is in excellent
condition.”

Filan said, “What if someone outbids us at the
last second?”

“Well, if we pay the buyout price, that would
virtually clean us out,” cautioned Takeo.

“But we’d own a starship, free and clear,” said
Filan, and she grinned.  “Our own starship!”

Fogg rubbed his hands together and shoved them
into his pockets.  “Alternately, we can counterbid until the auction has ended,
and if fortune favors us, we will win the
Axiom
.”  He raised his brows. 
“If not, we continue to return until we obtain a starship that suits our needs.”

“I’ve never seen a starship that size going for
that cheap.”  Takeo blew into his hands.  “You know there’s no guarantee we’ll
ever get a starship that way, right?”

Fogg nodded.  “In fact, for as long as we attempt
to outbid in person, while our opponents do so electronically, there is a very
little chance we will ever win the auction, unless the item to be auctioned is
wholly undesirable.”

Filan said, “We would all be co-owners.”

Takeo hugged Filan close, and she squinted happily
as she nearly disappeared into his long coat.  “We would be,” he confirmed with
a wide smile.

Fogg regarded him.  “I am willing to brave the
risks inherent to such a purchase.  If we offered private transportation
services to start with, it should generate enough money for us to eventually
launch our primary investigation business.”

“I’m in,” Filan cheerily said.

“Alright, let’s do it,” said Takeo.

He and Filan each took turns at the bidding console,
adding themselves to Fogg’s auction token.  Filan tapped the “Buy Now!”
button.  A loading screen followed, politely asking them to wait.  The sale was
approved, and all three cheered and embraced.  Not long after, an attendant
approached and handed Takeo the codes and title to the
Axiom
.  They
hurried to her boarding ramp.

It was dark inside, but Filan brightened her eyes
enough to serve as lamps.  What few interior lights functioned switched on and
flickered, and the air had a dusty smell.  Thrilled nonetheless, they all three
rushed across the concave deck for the central lift and stepped on.  Fogg wiped
the grime from the input terminal and tapped a faded image that read “Bridge.”

The lift rattled for a moment and stayed right
where it was.  “Likely, it was not designed to take this much weight,” Fogg
supposed, and he hopped off.  Takeo tried the bridge button again, but met with
the same result.  He also hopped off, and with fading hope Filan pushed the
button a third time, to no avail.

Takeo informed the harbormaster that he needed
more time to restore the vessel to operational capability.  He was given a two
week berthing period as part of the sale, but he was informed that modest fees
would be charged for every day the starship remained beyond that.  Takeo
thanked him and vowed that the
Axiom
would be functional well before two
weeks had passed.

All day and well into the night they labored, and
their sense of hope swelled.  The lift was functional by the end of the first
day, and all the interior lighting had been gutted and restored fully by the
end of the fourth.  Every stuck door was fixed by the end of the first week,
and they bent themselves to the task of repairing the nacelle articulators.

Near the end of the second week, they had painted
the cabins and science bays, touched up the bridge dome, and were ready to
apply an exterior coat of light steel blue.  Filan looked through local
registries for an illustrator to render their nose art while Fogg and Takeo left
the site to purchase the supplies needed for the job.

Fogg returned, driving a rental truck loaded with
pressurized smart pigment.  Takeo sat at his side, uneasy at first about the AI
taking the wheel.  “Do not worry, old friend,” Fogg assured him, “I am fully
versed in the methods of piloting automobiles, and I perfectly recall our many
adventures with Gavin.”

“That’s why I’m nervous,” Takeo grumbled.  During
the course of the drive, however, he calmed and soon admitted that Fogg was a
very capable driver.

Pulling up to the
Axiom
, they were
surprised to see a gathering of Union Navy personnel.  One of the uniformed men
was arguing with Filan, and she was yelling at him in return.  The truck’s
brakes whined as the vehicle stopped, and Fogg tossed open the door, hopping to
the ground.  “Cease your verbal assault upon my friend!” he shouted.  “What is the
purpose of your visit?”