Sector 6 - Jaril
Vivian Drowel, Oliver Atchison
“This is merchant vessel KMV1 Cudgel requesting permission to land,” Vivian intoned into her headset, fingers flicking over the ship’s controls. A few moments passed, followed by a click, and then a young woman listed off docking coordinates.
Vivian dropped her ship through the atmosphere and lowered down to the surface, landing in her designated hangar. Traq sat next to her on the copilot’s chair, eyes wide open as he took in the sights beyond the viewport.
The city was comprised of muted grays and silver. Skyscrapers reached into the clouds and the roadways were congested with innumerable vehicles. A greasy haze hung in the air, the result of burning fossilized and natural fuels. Primitive technology, low in efficiency, but for many planets, it was all they could afford.
The city reached for the horizon, a good twenty-mile sprawl. It was impressive. Especially to someone like Traq, who’d probably never seen a single building more than twenty stories, let alone an entire city of them.
The ship came to rest in the dock. Vivian sat still in the pilot’s chair for a few moments, wondering why she was here. It was an impulsive decision, and one likely to get her killed.
She still felt good, however. Other than his current disbelief at seeing Jaril for the first time, Traq seemed to be relatively unscathed by their recent misadventure on Mali.
They hadn’t talked much on the flight from Mali to Jaril, and she’d spent most of her time poring over her books. She was determined to learn every scrap of knowledge she could.
Her communicator flickered to life, and Wade’s face appeared on the console. Traq disappeared, still not used to the giant head appearing on screen.
Wade watched him disappear and then chuckled.
“Poor kid has so much to learn.”
“He definitely does,” Vivian said in a resigned tone.
“So, you’re going to take care of him? After last time we spoke…”
“I’ll train him, but I’ll never harm him the way they harmed us,” she said. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Was that rhetorical?” Wade queried, grinning. Vivian chuckled.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. You disappeared last night, and I couldn’t reach you. Anything going on I should know about?”
“Personal business. Nothing major,” Wade said offhandedly.
“About your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“You dropped her off personally?”
“I wanted to get a feel for the new Captain. See how it would go.”
“And?”
“Everything seems fine,” he said. Vivian could tell he was lying. “But I saw your message as soon as I got back. We’ve been friends a long time, so don’t take this personally: have you lost your mind?”
“Quite possibly.”
“It’s too dangerous to approve you going to Jaril,” Wade said. “It’s dangerous because you’re from the Ministry, but it gets worse. A Capital Ship is heading to Jaril now, sent by Darius.”
“Evelyn’s Grace?”
“That’s the one. Captain Finch’s flagship. How did you know?”
“It’s already in orbit.”
“Damn it, Vivian. Don’t go there!”
“It’s too late, Wade,” she said. “We’re already here. I used the trade warrant you sent me to land.”
“Damn it, Vivian!”
“It’s just one ship. They won’t even know I’m here.”
“What if they bombard the planet from orbit?”
“They haven’t yet.”
“That’s because they know they can’t take the planet by force,” Wade said. “So, they are trying diplomacy.”
“I got in easily enough.”
“Getting out is the trick.”
“Why would you send the Hummingbird? I said I needed transport, not your baby.”
“This kind of request will have to go past the Minister’s desk for approval. He isn’t keen on sending anyone into a war zone.”
“Warzone? That’s a little melodramatic.”
“That remains to be seen,” Wade said.
“Tell him it’s related to the information I found on Mali. I uploaded it to you earlier.”
“He’ll want to know more. What are you going to Jaril for?”
“Information.”
“Information can wait. He doesn’t appreciate stupid people, Vivian, and right now you seem like Queen of the idiots. What could possibly be so important on Jaril that it couldn’t wait until Darius left?”
“Nothing,” Vivian replied.
“Nothing?” Wade echoed. “The Minister would castrate me if I tried to run this past him.”
“Then make something up. Tell him I’m looking for some rare new element that only exists in this Sector. Maybe I’m after a new energy source. Or don’t tell him at all.”
“That’s your suggestion. Try to hide something like this from the Minister?”
“Are you saying you can’t?”
“I’m saying I shouldn’t,” Wade said, rubbing his face with his hands. He sighed. “Fine. I’ve got a merchant ship. A little old beater that shudders when it slips into warp. I’m betting I can talk Traq’s uncle into using personal leave time to come get you.”
“I appreciate it, Wade.”
“Do you really plan to sell your ship?”
“It’s the only way to get enough credits.”
“I can send you credits.”
“From a Ministry account? That seems like an even worse plan if the Minister finds out. The Cudgel is my personal vessel, so no paper trail.”
“Fine. The one I’m sending you will hold you over until I can send you something better. It’s old, but with some work, it’ll last. I was going to scrap it.”
“Thanks.”
Wade’s expression turned serious. “Where are you planning on going after?”
“To fringe worlds mostly. Dangerous places. You said I should teach Traq things I know, and that’s what I know. I’ll teach him how to survive and how to fight.”
“Excellent,” Wade said. “The galaxy could use a few more good murders.”
“Wade...”
“I know. I know. I look forward to hearing all about it. I’ll call Jack. Good luck.”
They ended the call. She picked up her Vibro blade and wondered if she should leave it behind.
Having the weapon hanging over her shoulder made her feel safer, and she could keep the weapon under her cloak. It would be difficult to reach if things turned dangerous, but carrying it made her more comfortable. She also kept a holdout pistol tucked into her right boot. She was trained better with blades.
She couldn’t think of any rational reason not to travel armed. She doubted many people on Jaril did, but that just meant she had to hide the weapons well. It was better to go to the planet with protection and not need it than the alternative.
“Traq,” she said while the ramp lowered. “It’s important that people don’t know I’m from the Ministry. If anyone asks, I’m a merchant pilot and you’re my son. Okay?”
“Okay,” Traq said. They walked down together and Traq coughed, covering his nose with his hands. He was practically gasping for air. “What’s that smell?”
Vivian chuckled. “It’s just how this planet smells,” she remarked. “Every planet has its own unique mishmash of ecosystem and technology. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t want to get used to it,” Traq stated, still sputtering.
“Would you prefer staying on the ship?”
He looked up at her in shock. “No way. I want to see everything.”
She nodded and set off. “Then you’ll have to get used to it. Smell is the weakest sense, so it will pass shortly.”
“Will it be like this on other planets?” Traq asked. His voice was getting weaker as he struggled to keep up. He was trying as hard as possible not to breathe. She thought back, wondering if the smell of other planets used to bother her so much.
“Everywhere. It’s the same if you go onto a new spaceship. Each has its own smell, but after a while, you’ll stop noticing it as much,” she said. Then added, “And it’s also not polite to point out.”
They passed out of their hangar into the spaceport. It was bustling with activity, bodies pressed together. No one seemed too terribly upset about the Union ship in high orbit. Most of the ships she saw were merchant vessels. Few went off the planet.
The Union ship hadn’t communicated with the populace and was probably working with the Royal Family through negotiations. They hadn’t started a blockade, but Vivian had little doubt they could. Any ship trying to fly past would be shot down once they declared a blockade.
She just had to be off the world before that happened.
She used her data pad to find the nearest market and then led Traq out into the sunlight. The spaceport was surrounded by a sprawling park with a pond at the center of the park. Walking paths crisscrossed the area and trees dotted the landscape, offering shade for picnics and hikes. The weather was pleasant and warm.
To the west ran a brick walkway flanked by enormous granite statues. It connected to the main avenue. The statues depicted ancient heroes in a variety of poses, some holding primitive weapons or leaning on staves. Probably a line of deceased kings and queens. Or perhaps important nobility.
“This place is weird,” Traq whispered, looking up at her.
“It’s just different,” Vivian said.
“The people dress funny,” he observed. “Why is her skin like that?”
She almost laughed when she watched Traq point at a short woman with blue-tinted skin. She quickly grabbed his hand and lowered it to his side.
The woman was not amused. She carried herself away with the air of a well-to-do noblewoman. She looked at Traq with her eyes narrowed, then huffed and brusquely walked away with a shake of her head.
“It’s not polite to point,” Vivian said. Traq blushed. “As to why people dress like that, or why someone would do that to their skin, I couldn’t quite say.”
“Excuse me!” a voice said. It was a deep baritone. She glanced over and saw a uniformed man rushing toward her. He was black and handsome in a silver uniform.
“Hello?” she said. The man ignored her, heading straight for Traq and lifting him in a big bear hug. Traq started laughing and giggling.
“Bart!” Traq said, hugging the man awkwardly from his raised position.
“Hey kiddo, haven’t seen you in a long time.” He turned back to Vivian. “Name’s Bartholomew.”
“Vivian,” she said, biting back an angry response. “You were expecting us?”
It wasn’t a question. “I was. Jack called me a little bit ago to have me keep an eye on this little guy.”
“Jack Cartwright?”
Bart nodded. “Knew him from back in the day, before he went to Terminus and joined the Republican Fleet. I signed up with the Admiralty here instead, but we’ve stayed in touch. He asked me to keep an eye on his nephew and help out.”
“You live here?”
“Nope,” Bart said, “but I used to a long time ago. I landed yesterday, and I’m heading out tomorrow. Lucky timing. I said I’d make sure you got here safe and had a place to stay. Jack wants you to stay near the spaceport, and he said he should be here in a couple days. The establishments are somewhat… prejudiced…against outsiders, so I took the liberty of getting you a room and renting a ride.”
He handed her a pair of primitive swipe keys. “We couldn’t possibly…”
“I insist. Jack’s a friend. Any friend of his is a friend of mine.” He checked his wrist watch. “Now is there anything else I can get for you? Directions, maybe?”
“I’m looking for a vendor.”
“Food? We have some excellent dishes—”
“Equipment. Specifically, water filtration systems.”
His face scrunched up. “That’s an odd request. I’ll have to think about it. I don’t spend much time on the planet or know many people, but I’d be willing to ask around. How about you go to the hotel room and relax? I’ll come meet up with you after I find something.”
She thought about it. She would like to take a more active role in finding the equipment. But, on the other hand, Traq was starting to get tired and overwhelmed, and without knowing where to start searching, she would have no better chance than Bart would.
“All right,” she agreed.
“I’ll send you my number if you need anything,” Bart said, setting Traq back on the ground.
She nodded. “You have my thanks.”
“No problem. How much were you planning to pay?”
“Well, I was hoping to trade for it.”
“Trade what?”
“My ship. I’ve got another one on the way.”
Bartholomew laughed. “All right then. I’ll consider it for you. See you in a bit.”
2
Oliver munched his slice of bread idly, watching the group split up and head their separate ways. He’d spent the last five minutes studying one woman. She was tall with raven-dark hair and a heavy cloak. She was an outsider. Had he met her on Terminus? No, that didn’t sound right.
And she was armed. That was what first caught his attention. A pistol in her boot was one thing, but he’d wager a month’s salary that she had some sort of bladed weapon strapped to her back. Maybe a Vibro sword. She was trying to keep it hidden, but in his years of seedy dealings, Oliver had learned how to spot the smallest details.
But her face…why did she look so damned familiar?
He stuffed the last bit of nom in his mouth, wiped his hands, and hurried up the road. He disappeared into the crowd and weaved his way down a few alleys. He didn’t dare approach the woman directly. Not until he knew more about her, or what she might have worth stealing. But the soldier, on the other hand…
After sidestepping a few people and ducking around a corner, he stepped out just as the naval officer turned down his street. Oliver glanced back over his shoulder and intentionally bumped into the tall black officer, pretending to be distracted.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, stumbling to the side.
“It’s no problem,” the soldier said, helping Oliver catch his balance. Oliver nodded to the man, then his eyes went wide in mock recognition.
“Oh,” he said, taking a step back. “You’re an officer.”
“Yes?” the man said, irritated.
“You wouldn’t happen to serve aboard the Urden, would you?”
The man looked puzzled. “Yes. Do I know you?”
Oliver shook his head. “No, sorry, it’s just…You serve under Admiral Hektor Menschen?” The man nodded. “Well, then it’s my lucky day. My name is Oliver Atchison,” he added, offering his hand. Tentatively and with suspicion on his face, the man shook it.
“Bartholomew Grace,” the officer said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m in something of a hurry.”
“Of course,” Oliver said, falling into step as the man walked off. His mind played through possible ways of gaining the man’s trust. He’d helped a friend deliver a shipment of goods to the Urden earlier this morning, and he still happened to have the paperwork in his pocket.
He rolled the details of his lie into place and began casting his net. “As I said, it was lucky I bumped into you. The port crew never showed up this morning to pick up the crates of ammunition.”
He pulled the folded envelope out of his pocket and handed it to the man.
Bart stopped walking, and a grimace crossed his face. “None of them?” He opened the envelope and saw that none of the details had been filled in. Oliver didn’t feel compelled to tell Bart that it was only a copy.
“How many men should there have been?”
“Four,” Bart said. Oliver shook his head. Six had shown up, he remembered.
“No. No one showed up and we weren’t sure what to do,” Oliver lied.
Bart sighed. “This is going to cost us half a day. If those bastards are out getting drunk…”
“I was on my way to the spaceport now to send a message to your Munitions Officer. I wanted to see if it was okay to have my own men deliver the crates to the Urden,” Oliver said. He added a little extra lie, just for effect. “No shipping charge, of course. Since you’re an officer, I hoped maybe you had the ability to authorize that without unnecessary paperwork.”
Bart nodded. “I do, and I appreciate it. What’s the soonest you could have them brought up?”
Oliver grinned. “Actually, I sent them up this morning, but I’m relieved to have the little details sorted out. I didn’t want to cause your ship to leave late on account of my goods being delayed.”
Bart blinked. “Oh, the crates were already delivered?”
Oliver nodded. By your own men nonetheless, he didn’t add. More than likely, those men would get reprimanded now for supposed dereliction of duty. But Oliver didn’t care. All he had to do was fudge the paperwork that was sent to the Urden later.
“Yes, they were. Would you mind signing there on that line for me?”
“Of course,” the man said. He scribbled and handed the paperwork back to Oliver, who stuck it back in his pocket.
“Thanks very much for your time, Corporal,” he said, bowing and starting to turn away. He hesitated just long enough to make sure the officer could get another word in.
“Wait,” Bart said, fishing in his pocket. He pulled out a credit data pad. “This was my bonus for last month. You’ve saved me quite the hassle, and I would be much obliged if you split this with the men that delivered the goods,” he said.
“That’s very kind of you, sir,” he said solemnly, slipping the pad into his pocket. It was turning out to be a profitable day. Bart scrunched his face up and thought for a moment.
The effort made him look kind of like a giraffe, Oliver decided.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about…water purifiers, would you?”
Oliver almost shook his head. Almost. He knew nothing at all about water purifiers.
Instead, he hesitated, wondering if it had something to do with the raven-haired woman.
He shrugged. “I know a bit.”
“Any idea where I could purchase them?”
So that was it? “How many are you looking for?”
“Several,” the man admitted. Oliver spent a moment processing the information and trying to decide how to use it.
He did know a lot of merchants in the city, and he was confident that he could track anything down if given enough time.
Plus, if it turned out those purifiers had nothing to do with the woman, he could just pass the contact along to one of those other merchants…for a fee, of course.
So, he lied.
“You know, I think you might be in luck. My partner and I recently acquired an as-is warehouse from a failed business venture. I haven’t read through the entire manifest yet, but I thought I saw water purifiers on the manifest. I’m not sure how many, but I’m guessing, say—” Oliver decided to go big “—twenty.”
Bart’s eyes widened. “That many?”
Sure, why not. “Yeah, I believe so.”
“Any idea how much they run?” Bart asked.
Oliver rubbed his chin. Hmm… “I’m not an expert, but I’d say around eighty thousand credits apiece,” he said, deciding that sounded reasonable.
Bart nodded, considering. He hesitated, as though trying to make up his mind about something, and then asked tentatively, “Would you be willing to trade for them?”
“Um…” Oliver said, wondering how deep a hole he was digging for himself. “Trade what?”
“A KMV1 merchant vessel.”
Oliver almost fell over. “A what?” he asked, the words slipping out.
“It’s a starship,” Bart said. “Merchant class, excellent cargo space.”
Oliver knew that; he was just completely caught off guard. “Can I have some time to think it over?” he asked, composing himself. Bart nodded.
“How about you come meet my friend in a while and we can discuss it?” he said.
“That sounds fine,” Oliver said, sure he meant the woman.
“Meet me at the Grand Hotel at eight,” Bart said.
“All right,” Oliver said, shaking Bart’s offered hand again and disappearing into the crowd. He glanced at his watch. It was six now. That gave him two hours to figure out what an actual water purifier cost.
