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[pltstory-blog]

Chapter 4. David.

David woke from another nightmare. For the last two weeks since he had arrived on Glasgol station getting a full night’s sleep had been a luxury. Normally stress caused him to sleep even more than normal. His body had a tendency to face adversity by simply turning off and sleeping it away. But now the source of his fear had become his sleep. Or, more accurately, sleep brought him closer to his fears. Without consciousness to distract him from images of Donald’s throat spraying in his face or the face of the man in the crowd, they swarmed his mind and came to life in his dreams. Unfortunately, work on Glasgol left him so exhausted by the end of the day that at least some sleep was unavoidable. He had spent his first week helping Ramos to tear apart the inside of his ship. They had started with expensive wood furniture, tapestries and chrome fixtures. Every sign of luxury in his yacht was stripped away to reveal the sturdy bones of the ship.  The wood floors were torn out and replaced with metal. The mezzanine level pool was replaced with an extra clean water tank. Glasgol’s gravity was created by it’s spin so at the center of the disk, where the ship was docked, gravity was lighter. This made moving things much easier, but not that easy. David hadn’t thought he would be useful to the rebuild. He had never done a day of physical labor in his life. Many times he thought his body had reached it’s limit. But the looming figure of Ramos and his desire to stay on his good side kept him going. Once he had hauled everything onto the dock the robot arms Glasgol was outfitted with took care of moving things into the correct storage area. On week two, they started to build. Adding shields, guns, cold storage capability, more shields and more guns. David had no idea it took so much firepower to simply ship goods. They weren’t even in a heavy war zone.

He rolled out of bed with the images of his nightmare still lingering behind his eyes. He rubbed his hands over his face a few times, then stretched and looked around his tiny room.He sat on the bottom of a metal bunk bed. The bunks were just a couple of metal doors that someone had welded onto stilts. A ladder laid on it’s side served as the top bunk’s rail, but there was no ladder leading up to it. It was just as well, the top bunk was piled high with back stock from SMilee’s bar “The Rag and Bone.” Even if David thought he could haul himself up there without a ladder, he wouldn’t have room to sleep. A single step took him from his bunk to the other side of the room. A small chest of drawers held his few belongings. The suit he had been wearing when he came to Glasgol was folded up neatly in a drawer. It was much too nice a suit for a dock worker. He looked at himself in the mirror that sat on his dresser. The glass was cracked down the middle, but he could see that the black eye Ramos had given him upon their meeting was completely healed. He had new bruises to replace it. Between hauling crates and flying around the engine room he had taken a considerable beating. He had never seen himself so battered before escaping to this swirling plate out in space. He pressed his palms into his eyes thinking about the quiet days spent in front of his computer. He used to love when a new data cache came in first thing in the morning and he could sit mining code for hours. Things were so different now. He never felt alone on this station. Someone always had an eye on him, making sure he wasn’t getting into trouble. Smilee had security cameras in just about every room of his trading post. On the rare occasion David had time to venture away from SMilee’s Post, he was usually followed by BIL, Smilee’s android. BIL was a two foot tall box with tank wheels and a little periscope head. He zipped along behind David everywhere he went. Smilee insisted this was to keep him safe but he was fairly sure BIL wasn’t equipped with weapons. In the mirror, David saw the reflection of his bedside table and his interface. It was blinking to indicate he had a message. He tapped his temple to activate his implant and the message appeared in front of him: Engine room today. David groaned. A day of nausea and slamming into walls. He turned to leave taking the two strides necessary to cross his room. With his hand on the door handle he hesitated. What he wouldn’t give to get back into bed and stay there. To not have to walk out this door into the insanity that had become his existence. He considered just telling Sven he was too ill. What would he do then? Stay here and sleep? These days he would rather go to the engine room than sleep. He pushed his door open and faced another day on Glasgol. His room was at the end of a hallway. When he reached the other end of the hall he could either turn right into Smilee’s office or left out onto the shipyard. He took the door to the left and made his way to the dock and up into the ship. He passed through the stripped out great room and down the long corridor to the engine room. He opened the first entry door and closed it behind him. The engine room was a zero-g area. He had to wait in this intermediate chamber for the gravity converter to seal itself before he would get the green light and the other door could open. The signal lit up and David opened the door to the engine room. Immediately his feet left the floor and he grabbed the rail. One of the first things Sven taught him was that the gravity drive creates a lot of spin on objects in the engine room. So if you don’t want to twirl like a top you have to keep a firm grip with one hand, or strap yourself into one of the harnesses. David had suggested the harness the first time he lost his grip and twirled away from what he had been working on, but Sven insisted that using the harnesses was cheating. David used the various handholds attached to the walls of the room to navigate his way up the wall toward Sven. The engine room was tall, it ran along the entire height of the ship between the two grav lenses. The drive created the gravity distortion, which was then sent through the two huge lenses on either side of the ship to create a gravity wave that the ship could “surf.” As he approached, David only saw Sven’s legs as he was waist deep in the engine wall.

“David, hop over to those dials on the other side. I need you to read them off to me.” Sven instructed. Any time David heard Sven say “hop over” he knew things weren’t going to go as smoothly as indicated. He looked at the other side of the engine room. It was only about a six foot gap, and with zero grav that was an easy distance to float. However the spin always made things tricky. David hesitated, trying to calculate the correct angle to jump. Grav drives were made to distort gravity into a “surfable” wave. All this gravity distortion created a spin in the engine room that was hard to fight against. If you drop a tool, it will get whipped around in a circle. If you lose your grip, you’ll be sent spinning.   “I don’t hear you swearing so I assume you’re still sitting here. Remember what I said, just turn with the spin. Fight against it and you’ll get all fucked up. Snap ass! I need those readings!” David took a deep breath and held it. He pushed off the wall gently and tried to angle his shoulders with the direction of the spin. As his feet left the wall he spun faster than he expected. He turned his shoulders hoping to slow himself down. His shoulders stayed somewhat parallel to his destination, however his knees followed the spin. In the short time it took to float over to the dials his body was twisted, and in trying to correct it David forgot about his inevitable meeting with the other wall. His left shoulder hit the rail at the same time his gut hit the rung below it. The breath David held was knocked out of him and he struggled to catch hold of the railing as his shoulder bounced off. “Lords of-” He swore as he got hold and righted himself. “You’ll get it, man.” Sven said with absent-minded encouragement. “Read me the numbers, top to bottom.” David did as he was told. As he read the various dials, Sven made adjustments. “What are we trying to fix?” David said after reading the last dial. “With all the new shields and guns all over the ship we need to adjust the lenses to make sure they are aimed at the surf shield. Otherwise the grav wave will smash all the pretty toys we just put on.” “Seems like a lot of guns for a merchant ship.” “Space is crazy. If you have a ship full of goodies someone is going to try to take a piece of it. You can never be too careful. Alright. I think I’ve got it. I just need to hop up to the upper rudder and make sure it is still lined up” Sven said as he pulled himself out of the engine. He had his eyepatch off so David could see the twists of wires and components holding his bionic eye together. He wondered what sort of enhancements he must have in that eye to help with his engine work. He watched as Sven skipped his way up to the top of the engine. He could have stuck to one side and just climbed using the handholds. Sven didn’t like to take that long. Instead, he jumped back and forth between the two walls of the engine room, making a full rotation with each jump and propelling himself quickly upward. Just watching it made David ill. After making the necessary adjustments he flew back down as quickly as he had gone up. “You hungry, man? Di’s cooking this morning.” Sven asked when he reached the bottom. Diane or “Mama Di” as she was affectionately known around the station was Smilee’s assistant. More accurately his counterfeiter. Every other morning she cooked breakfast for the dock workers in between cooking Smilee’s books. It was a small dock and most of the work was done by the station itself, so these breakfasts only included Smilee, Ramos, Sven, David Leanna the bartender at the Smilee’s bar “The Rag and Bone” and the three orphans on loan to them from the local Preservation House. Two boys, around ten, Brandon and Caleb and a younger boy named Max. The two men left the engine room and headed down to eat with everyone else.  They were halfway down the dock when Sven threw an arm up in front of David. “Hold.” Was all he said. From their position on the platform they could see the docking bay where all incoming ships needed to enter. There was a ship approaching the dock. David could see it was about the same size as his ship, but heavily armed. Four smaller ships were attached to the side for quick deployment and they all had a red and white crest on the side. “Who are they?” David asked. “Roma.” Was all Sven said. It was all he needed to say for David to understand. “We need to hide you. Docking will take them 20 minutes at least.” He started running down the dock toward Smilee’s office with David close behind. “Are you sure they’re after me?” “I don’t know. They might be here because of that Whiskey Skiff. Might just need refueling. But your name has been on the Roman Wanted Report every day this week so I’m not willing to take a chance.” Ramos was at the door of Smilee’s office, apparently on his way to get them out of the ship. “In here” he said and gestured to the back of Smilee’s office. “Can you swim?” “What?” “It doesn’t matter, I guess, the tank isn’t that deep. Jump in and follow Hank.” “Hank’s tank?” “Do it, kid. The water heater interferes with the bioscanners. Hank has a den at the bottom full of air. Go!” Ramos shoved him up the ladder the tank. He hadn’t swam since his school days but he was sure he could make it to the bottom of a tank. How was he supposed to get into a den meant for an opaan? He took a deep breath and slipped into the water, trying to make as little mess as possible. He fought his brain to open his eyes in the murky water but before he could he felt Hanks furry body pass under his hand. He kicked off the side of the tank, holding one arm in front of him feeling for Hank’s tail to follow. He reached the bottom quickly where he felt the opening of a tunnel. He was barely able to squeeze his shoulders through but when he did he felt air on his face. He opened his eyes and saw a small den, just barely large enough for him to squeeze into. He tried to curl up to make room for Hank but he didn’t seem interested in joining him. He jumped back into the water and swam away. David felt himself shivering. What if the Roman police ship was here for him? What if the den didn’t hide him? He wondered if he should have told Ramos the truth. He had always been a terrible liar but after what had happened to Donald he felt he couldn’t be too careful. He fed Ramos a story he had heard around the office of a mad who was fired for stealing Old Earth Art and selling it on the Trennan black market. He thought it would be easier to just fill his name into another criminal’s story than to explain to an apparent pirate that his coworker had told him he stumbled onto some sort of conspiracy but that he had been shot through the throat before he was able to tell him what it was. The only clue he had was in his backup files. The government servers were so unreliable he had taken to backing up his own work years ago. Technically, it was against regulation but no one seemed to care. His briefcase held an extra set of storage drives that he plugged in every day. WHen they filled up, he double checked that all his work had actually made it to the government backup, and used his backup to fill in any gaps. Then the whole thing was deleted to make room for the next set of data. He hadn’t wiped his drives since he had downloaded the files that, according to Donald, had started all of this. He still hadn’t been able to figure out what was in the files that he shouldn’t know about.

The tiny den felt like it was closing in around him. He shut his eyes and tried not to think about the crushing water above him or the clubs on the other side of the glass. The den was made of glear plexiglass so he could see the outline of Ramos, Smilee and two other people. The water was salinated and full of plants for Hank to play in so it was too murky to see through very well. He could hear the muffled sounds of people talking, but he couldn’t make out the words. His breath soon made the den hot and he wondered if he would run out of air. A couple of times he drifted off only to jolt awake and smack his head on the wall. After what seemed like an eternity Hank returned. He popped his head through the entrance, then turned and left again. When David didn’t get the clue to follow he returned, this time grabbing at David’s sleeve and pulling him toward the opening. David followed him back out of the tank where Smilee and Ramos were waiting for him. All the doors to Smilee’s office were closed. Ramos threw him a towel while Smilee paced behind him smoking. “Kid, we have tolerated your unbelievable backstory thus far because we had no reason to dig further into it.” He began “but let me tell you something about Glasgol station. We exist on a border stop between Stella Romanus and Solaria. We fall just on the Solarian side and therefore are technically under the jurisdiction of the Solarian Peace Patrol but we see them rarely this far out. In the twenty five years we have owned this station I have only ever seen the Roman clubs set foot on our dock three times. We call them the “clubs” but they are, of course the Royal Police of Roma. Things are a still tense enough on the border that the Roman police avoid crossing the border at all costs, lest they give the wrong idea to the Peace Patrol. They played nice enough, assuring us that they were here for fuel and supplies after taking a wrong jump or two. Luckily for us Di’s system can spot any scan that comes into it. They checked every manifest, every public record on this base. They all had discreet bioscanners switched on so they could scan as they paced the room. Luckily Di keeps the real books safe and they couldn’t get past her firewalls on the security footage but this certainly changes our attitude toward your protection. If you are going to bring hellfire down on us that’s fine, we know how to handle it. But we can’t always stuff you in an opaan den and pray for the best. We need to know who is after you and why so save me the stolen data file bullshit and tell me what we are dealing with.”

[pltstory-blog]

Chapter 3 Smilee.

“Give that a try, buddy.” Smilee said to his opaan. The animal stood on three paws, and one prosthetic leg. His entire body gave a shake, fluffing out his thick, orange, coat. Smilee had heard opaans described as a mix between a cat and an otter. He had never seen an otter, but he saw a cat once. He had seen plenty of pictures of otters. Hank was certainly built long, like an otter. On their home planet of Domum opaans spent equal amount of time on land and water, so his feet were webbed. But his face was a bit more cat-like than an otter, and his legs a bit longer. His orange striped fur was thick, with multiple layers to keep him dry in cold water. He watched Hank hop around a few times, testing how the leg felt. The nuts and bolts left over from the alteration rattled across the top of the table. “Go on, quit making a mess.” Smilee shooed him toward his tank. Hank jumped from the table on to the steps that led up to the top. In three bounds he was up, over and into the water. The tank ran the entire length of the office. Smilee had taken bits and pieces of broken fuel tanks and windows to construct it. He could see Hank disappear and reappear between the glass scraps as he swam the full length and back to the top. He jumped up to the edge of the platform and mewed to Smilee. He grabbed a few toy balls from his pocket and threw them in quick succession into the tank. Hank hopped out of the water to catch each one, then drop them and go for the next. After catching the third he held on and carried it to the far end of his tank. He shot up to another platform and dropped the ball onto a slide. The ball rolled down toward the water, Hank jumped to catch it before it hit the surface. Smilee watched the prosthetic as Hank played. The new seals seemed to be keeping the water out of the base effectively. Hopefully this new material would last. He had been changing the seals every six months since he had found Hank five years ago. A shipment had come in from Domum. Some sort of fragrant fish that must have drawn the small opaan kit to it. The poor animal’s paw had gotten caught in the ropes around the crate. By the time the shipment reached S. Milee’s Trade Post, the little kit was thin, dehydrated, and his broken leg infected. Smilee decided to keep the little thing. It was the sort of helpless creature Penny would have dragged in off the street when she was alive. A local doctor owed Smilee a favor. He removed the infected leg and with time the little kit, now named Hank was back to a normal weight. Hank got around alright on three legs but he wasn’t as agile in the water as he could have been. Smilee had been tinkering with robotics ever since he was a child. When he started building Hank’s leg he knew how to make a leg that moved, but not how to make it respond to Hank’s brain. That is how he had met Dr. Eyn. Smilee had gotten his name from a few sailors that had lost limbs. Dr Eyn was a Prosthetist. He was intrigued by the idea of fitting a leg to an opaan. They sent letters to a few men he knew who were rumored to make dog prosthetics but with no luck. Finally he got in touch with Dr. Barnes. A veterinary doctor on Terra Nova had made a neurotransmitter for some sort of cat Smilee couldn’t remember the name of. After receiving the plans for the transmitter, mainly it was trial and error that allowed him to adapt a leg for his opaan.

“Alright, let’s see it.” Smilee said when Hank surfaced again. He clucked at him and rubbed his fingers together to call him up to his work area. The leg looked perfect. “Smilee?” An old woman’s voice came on his desk speaker. . “Yes Di?” Smilee answered. “They’re linked in to dock now.” The tension Smilee had been able to let go of while working on Hanks leg suddenly boiled back up between his temples. He clenched and unclenched his fists once or twice and rolled his shoulders to calm back down. It had been a long time since he had properly lost his temper. He decided perhaps it was best not to think about it. Or to think about how much money his business partner had just lost them. He looked up from his work through the skylight above him. He saw the ship approach the central docking station. He had to admit it was one hell of a ship. Certainly not outfitted for anything beyond a pleasure cruise but with a shield upgrade and a couple of cannons she would be ready to haul anything they could imagine. Smilee’s office was ideally positioned near the center of the Glasgold station disk. He was close enough to the center on which the station pivots that gravity was slightly reduced. This made unloading cargo easier. He was also positioned right next to the only docking station, so any incoming goods had to go through him and he could see any ship that docked. He saw Ramos’s ship begin to spin slowly as it lined up with the spin of the station. Once he got a good look he cleared his tools and stood behind the desk waiting. He heard the familiar sound of Ramos’ boots on the steel dock. He assumed Sven was following but you can’t hear much of anything when the Novan Bull is on the dock. Smilee checked the monitors. Ramos was alone. “You’d better watch that bald head of yours, boy. I didn’t check the office for bottles.” Di said without looking up from her screen. Ramos didn’t respond, he just tossed a blue box over her desk. She reached up and caught it with a smile. “Aww. Now if he kills you I’ll have to feel bad..” She said pulling a piece of chocolate out of her parcel. “What the fuck happened out there!” Smilee laid into his business partner as soon as his boots crossed the threshold. “Yes, we’re alright Smilee. Thank you for asking.” Ramos replied calmly. “Fuck you. You look fine.” Smilee shot back. Actually, he didn’t look fine. He was covered in cuts and scrapes. But he was walking upright so it was close enough to fine. “Di woke me up with the morning reports yesterday saying you had been blown up in Roma! Then I get this criptic bullshit..” He touched the top of his desk and with a flick of his wrist thew a holographic note up in the air in Ramos’ face. “We’re alive. We have a ship. Bringing on help?” Smilee repeated the message “you just blew up-you know what. I don’t even want to think of how much money you blew up in that ship. Now you’re hiring more men and buying ships! Did Sven blow up with the ship and make room on the payroll? Did you fall back into money?” Ramos sat calmly at his usual spot in front of Smilee’s desk. He grabbed a smoke from the tin Smilee kept there and lit it up before throwing an envelope full of cash at him. “Money changed hands before Leavitt’s dumbass nephew crashed that skiff, so sit down.” Smilee opened up the envelope and did a quick count of the money before his shoulders loosened and his jaw unclenched. “So how the hell is there a jump class ship tethered to my dock if you still have this bag of cash?” He wasn’t going so far as to sit down but an envelope full of cash made things better. Ramos told Smilee all about what had happened to him on Roma. “This kid wants off Roma so badly he’s just going to give us a ship? Think he’s AWOL?” “That was my first instinct. Then I saw this.” Ramos used Smilee’s desk controls to pull up the Roman Daily’s “Most Wanted” page. Smilee read aloud. “David Chambers. Wanted for two counts of murder, three counts of conspiracy to commit treason. Considered armed and dangerous. Possible terrorist connection. Shit, Isaac why the hell did you bring this guy here? Their character description says he’s been linked to the the Lavendrie. They don’t fuck around. He could have killed you.” “It’s bullshit.” “How do you know it’s bullshit?” “I’ve been on a ship with him for two days.” “Maybe he’s really good?” Ramos rolled his eyes. “Ok fine. So if the report is bullshit then who is he? Why does he have a sheet this long? And why the hell didn’t you just take the codes and run when you saw this list of warrants?” “Is that how we do business now? Stealing ships?” “It could be how we do business.” Smilee grumbled. “Besides he probably stole the damn thing in the first place and reset the ignition codes. He probably planned to skip town and change his name before you showed up,” “Well, he didn’t bother to give me a name that isn’t attached to any warrants so I assume the name he gave is genuine. Seems like if he was planning to skip town and change his name he would have started with me. Besides that, the ship’s starer is tied to his handprint. We stopped in Pelour to send that message to you and when we tried to start up the ship it wouldn’t work. We had to have his hand on the console and it had to hear his pulse to start.” “So we have a name on the guy, did you do any digging?” “His public record has been changed to fit his criminal profile. According to him, he has never left the Roman system. Dead mother, absent military father. Graduated from a fancy school, fancy government job. Decided to grab a little extra cash by smuggling Old Earth Data out of the cache he had been mining to sell on the black market. Couple of paintings, pretty harmless. Now he says he’s being followed and framed for murder over it.” “His bosses are mad he stole a painting so they framed him for murder?” “He’s not a good liar Smilee. I told you that sheet is bullshit.” “So what’s his deal?” “I don’t know. But if we keep him here, far from Rome where all his warrants exist, We get a pretty new ship. And I didn’t even get to the best part.” He tapped his temple to open up his interface. “Bring her down Sven.” Smilee looked out the window to the bow of the large ship. The head shield rose up, opening the front hanger where the smaller, orbital-tranfer vehicle or “orby” was usually kept. Out shot a jet black, shiny, brand new Dusky. The Dusky had a top speed of 2500 km/h and could turn on a dime. Good out in space or in a planetary atmosphere they were useful as both a defense against pirates and a tow vehicle for on-planet deliveries. The sleek, shining black body was beautifully crafted to cut through the air in any direction. Smilee felt an ache when he saw it. Even without the cargo ship he might have been sold just on the Dusky. “What do we do with the kid?” Smilee finally answered “Keep him here. Stick him behind the bar.” Smilee gave him a doubtful look. “Fine not the bar. He used to work with computers. Give him to Di. She could use an extra hand.” “Do you want to go tell Di she has an assistant?” “Who gives a shit where you put him Smilee we have a ship! She’s got her own grav drive. Think of the money we will save on jump taxes if we’re not having to hitch up to a government driver? Right now she’s outfitted for pleasure but we pull all of that out, knock down a wall or two and I bet we can hold at least 3,000 crates in there. Those lens shields are fit to coast for ages. We can take the long haul and save on tax like we use to. We can get back to our honest smuggling again. No more ‘denter bounties and smuggling tiny ships of whiskey. And a Dusky.” Smilee sighed and walked over to his office window. He stared at Ramos’ new prize. She was a beauty, all right. Just the thing their business needed. But taking on a kid with this many warrants when they don’t know a thing about him? “This is a shit plan.” “It’s not a shit plan. How bad could he be?” “Do not fucking jinx me, not in my own office smoking my Sinclairs. I’ll make you take him on board if he gets on my nerves.” “Everyone gets on your nerves.” “He had better be below the average.” “Leavitt wants a suveen.” “Does he want the tank too? Because we have room to ship it now.” Smilee lifted his water glass and tapped it to Ramos’ whiskey with a smile.

[pltstory-blog]

Chapter 2: Ramos.

“Welcome to Stella Romanus, City of Roma, Cape Quarter. For your safety, please keep low-orbit skiffs out of the red shipping lanes. May the Lords Of Earth watch over your visit.” Isaac Ramos could see the swirling clouds of hydrogen sulfide gas that covered the surface of Stella Romanus churning below him. Ahead, the city of Roma floated above the clouds. The surface of the planet was hot enough to melt lead. The only way humans could live here was to suspend their colonies in the only part of the planet’s atmosphere that maintained a livable temperature. As he neared the city the air traffic became more and more dense. He dropped his skiff down below the shipping lanes as he reached the first of the towers. “The Lin Towers” pumped muggy, sticky, oxygen rich air into the otherwise unlivable atmosphere. That humidity mixed with the constant, unpredictable winds swirling up from the clouds made for a truly dismal place to live.  The towers hovered at the four corners of the city with their respective quarter webbing out. Cape and Market Quarters held the shipping yard, office districts and most of Roma’s commerce. The Royal Quarter had the palace, Garden Quarter had those who were not quite fancy enough for Royal Quarter.

Ramos continued to navigate his small ship toward the dock until he felt the steering wheel pull itself back and forth as the Harbormaster system took control. “Please state destination?” A woman’s voice asked from the ship’s speaker.

“Cape Quarter harbor, level 2 dock 5” Ramos answered. He reached overhead and switched on the intercom.

“We’re at the dock, Sven.”

“Right behind you Cap.” His new mechanic ducked into the helm and sat down at the navigator position next to Ramos. He handed him his two sidearms  and extra clips. “So what’s with all the firepower? I thought we were just parking the goods and taking the first train out of town?”

“Not quite. We need to meet with Leavitt, he’s going to pay us cash.” Ramos answered.

“You don’t think he’ll pay?” Sven asked.

“Oh he’ll pay and when we get there, his men will probably search us at the door and take the guns anyway. But we wouldn’t want him to think we don’t take things seriously.” The ship pulled up to dock five and gave a rough lurch and rattle as the tethering beam made contact with the dock. “This thing is a piece of shit” Sven grumbled. “We’re not selling it for the smooth ride” Ramos reminded him as he hit the hatch release. The windshield lifted up so the two men could exit. As soon as their boots hit the dock a Harbormaster android unit hovered toward them.

“Pardon, sir. This vessel has been selected for random inspection. Please remain where you are.” The unit addressed them politely. The Harbormaster unit didn’t seem terribly threatening on its own, but Ramos knew these little robots were connected to the main system of the dock they were standing on. If this small unit ran into any trouble, about fifty new ones would swarm in for backup. Still, he wasn’t worried. Their cargo was well hidden. He waited calmly as the Harbormaster opened and ten smaller units hovered out. They entered Ramos’ ship, scanning as they went.

Ramos glanced over at Sven. He could see sweat beading up on his forehead. This was the first time he had taken Sven out on delivery. He was doing fine so far, but if the Harbormaster detected a significant rise in SVen’s blood pressure they could be in for trouble. He adjusted his stance and rotated his shoulders a few time. As he had hoped, Sven took his cue and rolled his shoulders slightly, breaking the tension of standing still.

The bots, apparently satisfied, hovered back to their main unit which closed around them. “The City Of Roma thanks you for your cooperation and would like to remind everyone that in accordance with the Divine Teachings of The Lords Of Earth no alcohol or smoke is to be consumed within the city limits. May our Lords protect you..” After giving its speech, the little unit flew off to harass someone else. “I know you guys are good at what you do, but those bastards still make me nervous.” Sven said. “These little skiffs use a liquid stabilizer. You drain it, clean it, fill it with whiskey, those scanners won’t see the difference.” Ramos answered as the walked toward the elevators. “Makes for a shit ride though.” Sven said rubbing his sore back. Ramos ignored his complaints and concentrated on the task at hand. It was a straightforward deal. They just needed to go about their business without drawing attention from the clubs. At 1.9 meters and 290 kilos Ramos was hard to miss. Luckily for them the cape was busy this morning. As they rode the glass elevator down to the street level, he could see shipping vessels queued up waiting for a space to dock. The Roman harbor of Cape Quarter was famous for shipping and receiving goods from every corner of the galaxy every day. The only way to reach the Trennan colonies from Solaria was through Roma. It had been the only way to get to Paesoul as well, before the war started.

Leavitt’s club, “The Gas Bag,” was about a fifteen minute walk from the harbor. Roma had always been a dry city, but nothing can keep people from drink if they want it. The Gas Bag always provided a safe haven for the thirsty sailor. Leavitt’s business was always booming, and so the business of smuggling alcohol and smokes to him was always booming as well.

As soon as they approached the door of The Gas Bag Ramos could smell the familiar aroma of patchouli and garlic that covered up the smoke. Through the door there was a small reception room. In front of them was a small, thick, plexiglass window with a young woman sitting on the other side. As they entered she looked up at Ramos and smiled.  

“Welcome, gentlemen.” She said. “Good morning.” Ramos replied and pulled his membership card from his pocket. Roman laws basically stated that unless human life was obviously at risk, people could do as they pleased in a private club or residence without fear of police interference. This meant if that young woman said they couldn’t pass that door, they couldn’t. And neither could the clubs.. Anyone who wanted to enter needed a card. Your card told the receptionist which direction to take you. If you were suspicious or even just new, you were taken to a harmless, entirely legal restaurant where you could attempt to enjoy pungent dishes prepared by the minimally trained. If you were a trusted customer, you followed the long hall down to Leavitt’s magic land of drink, smoke and prostitution. The receptionist handed Ramos his card back and looked at Sven. “And you, sir?” “He is with me,” Ramos interrupted “he should be on the list.” The young woman looked back to her screen then smiled at Sven. “Welcome to The Gas Bag sir. If you could please step through the door to your left, someone will be with you shortly.” Sven looked to Ramos. He nodded at the door, and his mechanic obediently stepped through. As it closed, the door to his right opened. The receptionist stood holding it for him. “And if you would follow me, Mr Ramos, Mr Leavitt will see you in the Rose Room.” She led him about ten feet down the hallway where two large men and a small table stood. Ramos unloaded his weapons and set them on the table without needing to be asked. The two men parted to let him and the receptionist through. At the end of the hall were three doors. She opened the farthest left and led him into Leavitt’s office, otherwise known as the “Rose Room.”

He had to squint his eyes to keep from sneezing as the pollen from Leavitt’s roses hit his nostrils. Vines creeped up, down and sideways all over the walls. The muted black tiles of the floor were a perfect stage for the striking colors. Across the room was a large cherrywood desk. Behind the desk was a man in his 60s. His long grey hair hovered wildly like a halo around his head. His white shirt was flecked with ash stains and plant resin. He sat in front of a fifty gallon fish tank. The only fish Ramos recognized was the clown fish but he was relatively sure they were all Earth species.

“Rum-runner, sir.” The young woman said as they entered. “Ramos, old boy. Excellent to see you.” Leavitt said, standing behind his desk. He leaned over to shake Ramos’ hand before gesturing to the seat across from him. “How have you been my friend? I hear you have a new man with you.”

“Yes sir.” Ramos replied. As always, he had hoped he could avoid the typical chit-chat involved in dealing with Leavitt and just get paid. “Who does he know?” Leavitt pressed. If Ramos had walked in five years ago with a new man, the front desk would have buzzed him in without a thought and let his man follow. It still felt life a fresh wound when his help was sent through the left door. Since the war and their unfortunate luck following its beginning, everyone wanted just a bit more information about those they let into their circles. “Pilson, on Domum. Apparently he’s the kid of one of his mechanics. Grew up in the engine room. So far we just have him adjusting skiffs on the dock but he seems to have a pretty steady nerve so we are trying him out on a run.” Leavitt flipped a switch behind the desk and a screen behind him flipped on showing the security camera feed of Sven. He was filling out forms. The forms would keep coming as long as it took Leavitt’s system to scan his ID, find his actual identity and learn anything it possibly could about how much of a threat he could pose. “He lose that eye in the engine room?” Damn, that girl was quick. Sven’s eye and part of the socket were artificial. He had spent a heavy chunk of money he didn’t have on an expensive, very realistic eye and interface. The receptionist had already noted it on his profile and sent it off to Leavitt. 

"Wrench got thrown at him by the grav drive.”  Leavitt winced “Any trouble at the docks?” “Harbormaster searched the ship, but they didn’t find anything.” “Ha! You boys could hide an elephant in the Queen’s purse if someone was paying you for it! “ Leavitt laughed. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out an envelope. “Well, there’s your pay. You planning on sticking around here? I can give you a hell of a deal on a fifth of gin and a brunette.” As Leavitt made his offer a beautiful young woman passed behind Ramos, running a delicate hand across his shoulders. She stopped beside his chair and smiled down at him. “No thank you, Leavitt. Maybe next time.” “You work yourself too hard. One drink?”  Leavitt’s attempt to persuade him was interrupted by a young man entering through his office’s back door. “Uncle Michael, we’re back! It was a piece of cake, stole that-” “Shut it, boy!” Leavitt snapped, “I don’t know how many times I need to beat this into your thick skull. I aint your uncle when you’re workin for me and you learn to fuckin knock.” He nodded a head toward Ramos. “Now, lucky for you, Mr Ramos here is a friend of mine. Next time I might have to shoot someone just because you can’t keep your fucking hole closed!” “Uncle Mike, isn’t he-”   “Get the fuck out of here and pick up the shipment, Toby!” Leavitt rose as he boomed at his nephew. When Toby looked likely to continue his protest, Leavitt clocked him across the face. Toby shook the stars from his eyes and practically sprinted out of the office.

“I apologize. My husband’s cousin’s dumbass kid. Apparently when you marry a man, you marry every jobless sack of shit in his family.” He snapped bitterly. “No need to apologize, Leavitt.  I am sure you will straighten the kid out,.” “Maybe, if I don’t shoot him first. How about that drink?” Before Ramos could decline again, Leavitt had pulled out two glasses. He offered Ramos a smoke but he declined. “So how’s business on Glasgol these days?” “Things could always be better,” Ramos replied. “But they could be a hell of a lot worse!” Leavitt tapped glasses with the him before downing his drink and pouring another. “It’s a wonder you boys have kept things afloat since the war started. How many ships did you lose to the King? Three?” “Three cargo, two skiffs.” “Lords, terrible luck.” Leavitt shook his head “Then that business in Orleon-” “We’ll manage. We can take a hit or two.” “Well, you boys need anything you let me know. Think you can get me one of those big Doman fish? Thought I might build a tank in here.” “That’s a long way to ship a live fish.” Ramos explained, “we might be able to but it won’t be cheap. I’ll have Smilee send you the specifics.” Ramos finished his drink “Can we count on the same order from you next month?” “‘Course you can,” Leavitt said “I almost forgot, Di wanted me to send these with you. You know that woman’s got her vices.” “Don’t we all.” Ramos replied taking the small blue box and standing up, “sorry I can’t stay and imbibe with you further Leavitt. I’ve got a ferry to catch.”

The men left The Gas Bag and headed back toward the dock. The public ferry back to Glasgol left in half an hour. While they had been talking to Leavitt, the morning rush hour had arrived. The sidewalks were choked with people on their way to work. They pushed through the crowd as best they could but they were slowed down considerably. “Take a right down here, we’ll go through the shipping yard. It’s quicker than this crowd.” Ramos pointed down a side street and they turned. They hopped the fence into the shipping yard and made their way through, sticking between the rows of empty shipping containers where less workmen would be around to find them. Ramos could see the docks through the rows. He looked up where he had parked the Whiskey Skiff and saw it pulling away from the dock. Leavitt’s nephew must have made it through the crowd faster than he and Sven. The ship floated down toward the street level, where he could engage it’s ground level hover and drive it right into Leavitt’s garage to drain it. It curved away from the main traffic and back toward the shipping yard. “The hell is he doing?” Sven asked, he was also watching Toby in the skiff. “Probably avoiding rush hour by coming back along the shipping routes. Not a bad idea as long as you know it isn’t patrolled. And as long as you steer clear of the-” Before Ramos could finish his sentence Toby engaged his hover engine. Without stablizer fluid the skiff jostled back and forth in the transition. It’s right wing clipped a stack of crates and it spun ninety degrees before smashing to the ground. The ship skidded down the row on its side stopping fifteen feet in front of Ramos and Sven. “Good thing he paid already.” Sven stated flatly before the two of them turned to run toward the harbor. Their path was blocked by the Harbor Guard. The crash had alerted them quickly and now a group of five armed and armored clubs stood between Ramos and his ferry. “Relax. They’ve got no reason to suspect our involvement in this as long as-” “MISTER RAMOS! HELP!” Toby’s voice shrieked from the cab of the skiff. The back of his seat, which was stuffed full of smokes had caught fire. The buckle on his seat was jammed. Ramos rolled his eyes and headed to help. He had helped Smilee refab this boat to hold as much product as possible. The seats were made of thin plywood. So while Toby continued to fumble at the buckle of his harness, Ramos grabbed the straps at the base and pulled. With his considerable strength he easily snapped the base of the straps off the thin seats to free the kid. “Thank you, I’m sorry I-” Toby began to stammer as he rolled out of the cab. “No need to apologize young man,” Ramos said loudly. “Glad I was at the right place at the right time. I’m sure these fine officers will take care of you.” He pushed the Toby toward the arriving clubs. He and Sven tried to leave down another another shipping corridor but the clubs called after them. “Gentlemen, you have just witnessed an accident. We will require your statements.” “We are in quite a rush I am afraid. We didn’t see much. Just heard the young man yell.” Ramos continued to walk slowly backward as he answered the questions. “I must insist that you-” the club was interrupted by gunshots. Not from Toby or the other officers. But from the middle of the rush hour crowd at the harbor. Everyone turned toward the sound and saw the crowd churning into a panic. Ramos took advantage of the distraction pushed Sven along toward the back of the shipping yard. The club regained his focus as they broke into a jog. “You two! Stop!” He shouted. Ramos looked back to see how many of them he should expect to follow. When he did the side of the club’s head erupted from a gunshot and he fell to the ground. “Go!” He shouted to Sven and they broke into a run. They weaved between stacks of crates and workers. Sven reached the far fence first and started to climb. Years spent climbing around freighter engines made this twelve foot intricately carved iron easy work for him. Ramos paused to look behind them. Only two clubs had followed. He considered his odds. “Get climbing man! There’s no way!” Sven had answered his internal question. Clubs worked heavily armed. Black armored suits covered their bodies. The armor continued up the neck into a gorget covering the mouth. Combined with the helmet, this left only the eyes and nose exposed. Clubs were faceless and nearly impenetrable when their helmets were up.  Each breast pocket contained a taser, guns under each arm, one at each side and in each back pocket was the real trouble. The arrest pods. Once a target was subdued and still enough to lock the pod on, it could deploy in a matter of seconds. A thick, opaque energy orb surrounds the victim (or “suspect,” depending on who gives the description) and allows the clubs to transport them without incident to whatever cell they were determined to deserve. A view screen outside the orb displays the vital signs of the person inside as well as their identification. Ramos definitely did not want to end up inside the orb the officer was reaching for. He started up the fence behind Sven but at about half his pace. Even so, he had climbed high enough to be out of the clubs reach by the time they caught up. One began to climb after while the other pulled out his taser and took aim. Before he could squeeze the trigger he was his squarely in the chest by a long umbrella pole Sven had snatched from a nearby cafe. The patrons who had been sitting underneath it gasped as he jammed the pole through the fence a second time. He hit the club climbing after Ramos and knocked him from the fence as Ramos reached the other side. The first club recovered and tried his taser again, this time aiming it through the fence posts. The probes fell inches behind the men’s ankles as they bolted for the harbor. People spilled out of the lobby doors and scattered. Ramos pointed to a service door and the two men sprinted for it. They plowed through and into the stairway to the docks. “Did we lose them?” Sven panted. “No idea. Stairs.” Ramos tried not to waste oxygen on words. They took the stairs two at a time until they reached level three. Ramos’ thighs burned almost as badly as his lungs when they fell through the door to the Public Transit Dock. He didn’t have time to catch his breath. They needed to make it to the ferry out of Roma and back home. “Attention passengers,” a small Harborbot floated above the crowd. It looked similar to the scanner they encountered earlier, but with a large, cone shaped speaker bulging from the front of it. “All trains are delayed until further notice. Please remain seated, a harbor attendant will see to your needs shortly.” “Dammit!” Ramos ran through their options in his head. He heaved the door to the stairway back open and started up the stairs. “Can’t we take a lift, man!” Sven panted behind him “where are we going?” “Too crowded. Private skiffs on level seven.” Sven groaned as they started to climb. After four more flights they could hardly motivate their burning muscles to pull them along.They threw open the door and scanned the dock. Ramos pointed to an older two-man ship. She didn’t look like much but that was the point. Keep the radar off. He convinced his legs to move him forward down the dock. “Son of a bitch.” Sven had stopped hobbling toward the ship to watch out the window between the docked skiffs. A small ship wobbled in and out of traffic followed by two club cruisers, sirens blaring. “Does that ship look familiar, boss?” Toby had tried to make a break in the ruined Whiskey Skiff. Now he didn’t have stablizer fluid or half his rudder. The ship seemed completely out of his control but Toby’s hand was on the accelerator and he showed no signs of slowing. Ramos shook his head but headed toward their intended ship. Leavitt’s nephew was not his problem and hopefully he wouldn’t become his liability. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he heard the sirens getting louder very quickly. “Hit the deck!” Sven shouted and threw himself to the floor. The Whiskey Skiff’s hit the dock fifty feet in front of Ramos. A whirlwind of glass and metal flew at him and cut into his arms as he tried to shield his face. Two of the ships that had been tied to the dock broke free and collided with the vehicles next to them. It was hard to tell where the wreckage from one ship started and another began. The weight of two ruined, engineless ships pulled down on the end of the dock. Ramos could feel the floor shift below him and he ran back down the dock toward Sven and the harbor.  Harborbots swarmed from the elevator shaft and started shooting foam on all of the flames. He dodged them as they flew past his head toward the flames. Behind the firefighters, a smaller bot hovered up to Sven. “Good evening sir, there seems to have been an accident. Please follow-” Sven swatted the bot into the wall. It hit “face” first and the lens shattered. The two men dove back into the stairway and headed down one level. They fell through the door and saw chaos around them. Bots fought flames any ship that wasn’t cutting anchor and running was covered in scrap from the ships above it. Only one looked spaceworthy and they ran for it. “Awful big ship, boss. We’re going to draw eyes.” Sven panted behind him. He ignored the mechanic’s concerns. They needed a ship. Sven reached the console first and pulled out his decoder. “It’s unlocked.”Ramos said, pushing him forward. “Fucking Romans.” “Get to the helm and get us out of here,” Ramos commanded as soon as they were inside the ship “I will look for passengers.” He doubted anyone would be on board or they would have cut the tether and taken off already. “What will you do if you find someone?” Sven asked. Ramos didn’t reply. He pulled the anchor switch and nodded toward the stairs to the helm. Sven ran where he was ordered. Ramos kicked in door after door. Maybe he would find the owner’s trust fund baby drinking in daddy’s yacht while the fire alarms blared outside. At the end of the hall, he entered the ballroom. In a commercial or pirate ship this would be where the cargo and smaller on-planet vehicles would be parked. In this vessel, however, it was a small ballroom. thirty feet across, it was large enough to hold two mid-size vehicles. Currently it only contained one. But if you were going to own just one planet-ready ship, this would be the one. “Stop right there! I’m armed and I will shoot you!” Ramos spun around to see who was screaming. A young man, early 20s, blonde hair, blue eyes, 1.78 meters tall was pointing a gun at him from behind the bar. “Take it easy son.” Ramos said, raising his arms above his head and taking a step toward the boy. “Stay where you are! I will shoot you!” The young man screamed again and came out from behind the bar. He was wearing a suit. Too well tailored to be a pirate. But his collar was torn, as was the arm of his jacket. Something dark flecked across the navy blue fabric. Ramos had to assume it was blood. “Yes son, you mentioned that. Now let’s just be nice and calm about this. What exactly are you doing on this ship?” “I’ll ask the questions! I have the gun and this is my ship! Just let me go, I didn’t know what I had found just let me leave and I won’t tell anyone. Get off my ship!” “Well son-” “Stop calling me that!” “Sorry! Well, friend. I don’t know what it is you found, but I assure you I am not looking for it. You say you’re trying to head out to space. Why was your anchor still caught?” Ramos asked. “What?” The young man seemed confused. “Your anchor, it’s still hooked to the dock. That’s why I assumed no one was trying to escape on it. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but I don’t think you know how to sail this ship?” Ramos took two steps closer to the young man. “I certainly do know how to pilot this ship!” The young man screamed and took a threatening step forward. Now his gun was pointed directly at Ramos’s forehead, about 5 inches away. “I just needed to run down and detach the anchor after the bumpers were fired.” “Now, I might be mistaken. But it seems that would be difficult to time correctly with just one man on such a large ship. Where is your crew?” “I don’t need one! Now get off before I shoo-” Ramos had grown tired of the screaming kid. He grabbed the boy’s wrist and twisted the gun from his hand. He punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground and pointed his gun back at him. “Please, don’t hurt me I will go quietly.” The young man cried held out his hands as if he thought Ramos planned to shackle him and carry him off to the tower. “Young man, I was not lying when I told you I am not here for you. All I want is-” “Anchor is pulled captain, we’re gonna catch fire if we sit much longer!” Sven’s voice crackled over the speaker system. Ramos kept his gun pointed at the young man and backed up to where there was an intercom near the on-planet vehicle. “Hang on, we’ve got a stowaway.” Ramos said into the mic “I’ll leave him on the dock.” “NO!” The young man started to argue.   “Sorry Captain, there’s not much dock left to throw him on. Besides, the lenses were taking too much heat, I didn’t want them to warp so I had to push off.” Ramos looked out the domed glass ceiling and saw the dock fall away from them as the ship rose up into space. “Alright kid. We’ll leave you at the first post we hit, call your daddy and he’ll pick you up. Tell him you put up a real good fight.” Ramos said, motioning for the kid to follow him down the corridor to be locked in one of the cabins. “This is my ship!” The young man yelled at him. “I need it!” “Not from where I’m standing, kid. This is a ten man vessel, how do you plan to pilot it? With the anchor down and the lenses capped?” Ramos snapped at him. “Now I am not the sort to kill a man for being in my way, but I’m not going to drag you along for a free ride either. Work is too scarce to have extra mouths on my ship.” He turned back down the hallway, assuming the boy would follow. “You can’t leave me at some station! Not in Roma! Please!” The young man started begging “You said you need work. I can pay you!” Ramos turned. “What do you know about my work, kid? You going to be my gunner? Go home. Tell your daddy you lost his ship. Save us all a lot of trouble.” “I’m the work! I mean, I will pay you. For protection.” “Who the hell do you need protection from?” “I don’t know. They tracked my interface.” The young man put a hand to his head where Ramos had hit him and winced. “I don’t mind taking you out of Roma, kid. But crossing over into Solan spa-” “Please! Just take me somewhere safe and you can have the ship. I’ll sign it over to you and give you the ignition codes.” Ramos wasn’t sure what would cost him more, keeping this kid on the ship or tearing it apart to disable the security system and reset the ignition codes. “We’ll get you out of the sector. You’re on your own after that.”   “Thank you, Mister..?” “Ramos.” “Mister Ramos. I’m David. David Chambers.”

[pltstory-blog]

Chapter 1. David

“Good morning.” David said in his usual way. He tipped his hat to Mary as he passed her desk. Normally, he was forced to endure at least 10 minutes of chatter about the weather and Mary’s cat Percival before he was able to awkwardly make his way past reception, through the weapons scanner and up the elevator to his department. David was happy to be able to skip that aspect of his routine today, even if it did seem strange. She gave him a quick nod as he approached the scanner, then turned back to her screen once he was through. He usually made it to work at least half an hour before the official start time of 0900, so Mary was the only person he passed on his way to the elevator. He rode it to the third level in blissful silence. The other early-birds in the Archives Department were glued to their screens this morning. Perhaps a large data cache had been discovered and everyone was eager to see what it held. He made his way to the end of the hall and took a right toward “Archive Retrievals.” As he reached his desk,he had just removed his hat when he noticed something stuck to his chair and chuckled. It was a note. A paper note. Who does that?

“David, come see me as soon as you get in. Don’t log on.-Donald”

It took David a moment to comprehend the note. Donald? Donald from accounting? David barely knew him. He seemed to remember they had played cards once at the annual EAD banquet. Last week he had gone over David’s accounts to review his security questions and clearance. He wasn’t even sure what this guy’s job was, only that it was in accounting. What could he possibly need so urgently? Accounting was on the same floor so David put his bowler back on and headed across the hall. He had barely passed through the department doors before Donald jumped from his seat to greet him.

“Hey! I just wanted to talk to you about those tickets I bought, before showtime! Let’s go grab some breakfast!” He said, He threw his arm around David and whispered to him quietly. “It isn’t safe here, we have to get out.”

“Not what? Donald I’m not sure…” “I’m starving! Best take the stairs. It’s good for your heart.” He pushed David to the left of the elevator through the door to the stairwell. As soon as he heard the slam of the fire door  Donald grabbed his shoulders roughly and looked him square in his eyes “You need to trust me and do what I say right now, David. We need to get out of the building. Follow my lead. We can’t stay long in here. They will notice.” He started down the stairs, maintaining a firm grip on David’s arm as he went. “Donald let go of me! What the hell are you rambling about?” David shook his arm free and tried to stop. “Keep moving!” Donald snapped. He shoved David through the first floor doors and steered him toward the exit. “So about those tickets. Do you know how close we are to the stage? My wife loves to be right up close. Hey let’s grab a bite at one of those pastry carts in the park.” Donald continued leading David toward the center of Cape Quarter. They were about ten yards from the park gates when David gave up on trying to pull free and followed Donald quietly. He was surprisingly strong for an accountant. He pushed him past the park gates. David didn’t normally spend a lot of time at the park. Too many loud children, and the artificial UV bulbs around the Fiber trees made his eyes hurt. As soon as they were through Donald immediately made a sharp right turn, off the path and into a grove of Fiber trees. The tall, thin trees were planted just far enough apart for a man to squeeze through at a side-step. David wasn’t a tall man, but he wasn’t small. His morning walk to the train was the extent of his exercise regime. He stood straight up to fit which was a challenge considering he was panting quite heavily by the time they finally came to a stop a few feet within the cover of the trees. “We can wait here a moment. Let them chase us into the park a bit.” Donald squinted through the trees. “What the fuck are you doing Donald? Why did you just drag me out here, I don’t have time for this!” David snapped between breaths.

“What do you know about that file you sent to Crawford?”

“The CH99 file? It was some sort of entertainment catalog. He sent it to Brenda in media archive I think. Why? Why didn’t you ask me about this at the office?” David rubbed the arm Donald had been dragging him by.

“No! The file about the colony ship.”

“Oh. I think it was a colony ship that left Earth before the Diaspora. Sounded like a real early one. I decrypted what looked like a supply manifest, employee records, that sort of thing. As soon as I pulled it up, the software started matching it to weird files. It’s a pretty common bug. I assume they fixed it. Why?”

“What do you mean it started matching it to files? I thought your job is to find fragmented files that already exist and put them together?” “Kind of. I take the fragmented data from the Old Earth caches and try to pull out as much information about the file as I can from the scrambled code. Once I get ahold of enough information for the database to make some matches, the computer automatically searches its data stores for related information. So if I find a picture file with a map on it, the database will start pulling potential locations that the map might represent.”

“So this old colony ship was being matched with the wrong files?” “Yeah. It didn’t make any sense. This colony ship left Old Earth in the year 10 PRT. But the computer was matching it with files from a research center on Domum. It took us hundreds of years to get as far away from Earth as Domum. They didn’t even have jump point technology back then. Any ship that left Earth before the Diaspora was destroyed. Certainly none of them could have made it as far as Domum.  Like I said, it was some kind of error with the archive retrieval program. The data is still usable, they just need to work out the bug. Why didn’t you just ask me this back at the office? I probably still have the email, I can pull it up.” David reached for his pocket to switch on his interface. Donald grabbed his hand before it could reach it.

“Don’t use your interface!” He snapped “I’m not sure what it is you foun, but it wasn’t a bug or a glitch or whatever. You found something that you shouldn’t have and now there is a full order to terminate you.” “Terminate? Am I getting fired?!” David was confused. His job was to retrieve Old Earth data from archive files. He had done his job and the computer mismatched the data he had retrieved to somewhere in Domum. It was a common bug, and not even his fault. He saw no reason he should be reprimanded, let alone fired!  

“I mean if you go back in that building, you are going to be arrested!”

David chuckled. “Donald, I’m sure this can be worked out. People don’t get arrested for mismatched data. Why would they do that? It’s just information. I will go smoothe things over with Crawford, I am sure this is a misunderstanding. I appreciate your concern for me.”

“Crawford is dead David.” Donald hardly left time for the statement to sink in before he continued ”whatever it is you found, they don’t want it out. They have been following you around to see if you had passed the information along. They weren’t planning to move on you until they had time to check your condo for a wipe pulse. If you have passed the information on, they want to be able to look into your interface to see who you passed it to. They were waiting for you to log on at work. I probably should have gotten you out sooner, but my orders were to only interfere if your life was at risk. It’s definitely at risk now. We need to get out of here.”

Clearly Donald had suffered some sort of mental breakdown. David wasn’t sure why he had become the target of this psychosis, or how he should handle it. He wasn’t good with people in the best of circumstances. “Donald, I assure you Crawford is fine. I spoke to him last night. Why don’t we head over and get one of those pastries you were talking about? Maybe figure out a way to get you some time away from the office. I think the stress..” Donald rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his interface control, which was modeled to look like an Old-Earth pocket watch. It was a common style for men. An interface worked as a personal communicator as well as a personal computer. So it needed to be small enough to access easily, but large enough to not be lost. When Donald activated his interface, a holographic screen was projected from a small implant in the corner of his eye. It was rare to find a human in the civilized world without one of these implants. Small eye movements controlled the display and with it he opened up the front page headline of today’s news. He placed his hand on the screen projection and flipped it around so David could read the headline: “Archives manager found dead. Foul play suspected.” Under the headline was Crawford’s badge photo. David stared. “We’re done with questions now, got it? You have a ship docked on the cape. We need to get to it.” David was silent. He was still staring at the spot where the screen had been projected in front of him. Archives manager found dead, Foul play suspected. “David!” Donald slapped his cheek a couple of times to jolt him. “ Come on now, I need to know which dock your ship is tied to.” “My ship? You mean my father’s ship?” “Yes, the ship with the fucking grav drive that you keep docked in Roma. Where is it?” David hadn’t been to the dock since his father gave him that ship at his graduation from Tilse Gige University. He remembered telling his father he would never need it. He had a condo three blocks from work. For someone in his position to own a such a luxurious yacht was unbecoming. “Who knows. Maybe the city will turn on you one day. It’s a good ship to get away from it all.” His father had said. That man was exceptionally good at getting away from things. “We need to keep moving.” Donald yanked David back to reality and through the grove of Fiber trees. The two men side stepped to avoid rustling the trees as they moved. They emerged near a tube stop. Donald took a quick check around the street before pulling David down the stairs to the platform. “Alright now, think. Where is the ship docked?” Donald asked again, looking up and down the path nervously. “I-I don’t know.” David admitted “I mean, I know it’s in Cape Quarter-” “Then we’re in luck for the moment.” Donald gestured to the oncoming train. It was headed for Cape Quarter. “-but I have the dock information and ignition codes stored on my interface. I would need to log on…” “Hells of Earth!” Donald swore. The train stopped and the men boarded. “Ok. As soon as the train stops in Cape Quarter, head for the harbor. Wait until we get inside to log on.” “Why are you doing this?” David asked as the train sped through the center of town and across to the Cape Quarter. “I am assigned to keep an eye on you. Now that you are at risk, my orders are to take you somewhere safe and notify my superior.” “Your superior? Are you some sort of Paesoul spy?” “No.” Donald answered shortly, checking up and down the train at every stop. “Then who are you? I need some answers here!” “Quiet! I can explain shit to you when we are safe. This is our stop, get your interface ready. I hope you can walk and browse.” “No-” David didn’t have time to answer. He was being dragged off the train toward the harbor before his screen was booted. He struggled to keep up with Donald while he opened his files and found the key codes. “Fuck.” He heard Donald say before taking a right into an alley. “We’ve got a tail. Do you have the location yet? You’ve gotta get off that thing!” “Got it. Platform eight, dock six.” David switched off his interface. “Move!” The two men pushed through the growing crowd of the Cape Quarter district. As they shouldered their way through the morning hustle of travelers and goods, David panted and strained to keep up. Soon the crowd of people making their way into the city became too thick to push through. The pair was forced to move at the steady pace of the herd. “This may take a while but at least we have the protection of this crowd. Unless-” Before Donald could finish his sentence gunshots erupted behind them. Panic struck the human herd. The crowd screamed and churned trying to flee from the sound. In the chaos one man remained on a steady course toward David and Donald as he raised his weapon for another shot. “Cab!” Donald yelled and began shoving through. David almost lost his footing a few times in the panicked crowd. Two more shots rang out behind him. There was no telling where they landed, but David was relatively sure none had hit him. By the time he made it to the curb Donald had already stopped a cab. David pushed and shoved and finally reached them. Donald threw him into the cab. “Get in we have to-” His sentence was cut short by his throat exploding, spraying David with blood and skin as he fell into the cab. David screamed and tried to drag Donald’s lifeless body inside. Another bullet sailed past his head and hit the open cab door.

“The fuck is going on!” The cabby screamed at him. David abandoned his companion and pulled the door shut. “Is he dead? Get the fuck out of my cab!” The cabby yelled. “Drive! To the docks or they will shoot you too!” David closed his eyes and tried to hold off the panic that was rising in his chest. Two more bullets hit the cab and lodged themselves in the thick glass of the back window. The cabby continued to curse David, but hit the accelerator. David clutched his briefcase to his chest as the cab moved as quickly as possible through the crowd. They were less than 20 yards now. He would need to move quickly through the main harbor building. He would use the crowd like Donald had tried to. David locked eyes on the Harbor gates and sat poised to sprint. He reached in his coat pocket and grabbed all the cash he had. His ready position was jolted as the cab was rammed from behind. “Motherfuckers!” The cabby swore loudly as the vehicle behind them hit again. A black skiff with tinted windows. David couldn’t see who was inside but it didn’t matter anyway. The vehicle rammed them again. The cabbie pulled out around a bus and tried to lose their pursuers in the traffic. It worked for a moment, and with the bus shielding him from the black skiff David threw his handful of cash at the cabby and flew from the cab. The cab had slowed enough that he was able to keep his footing. Shots rang out again as he ducked behind the bus and pushed through into the crowd. Curses followed him as he blew past the other travelers on his way to the gate. He didn’t have time to look behind and see if he had lost them. Finally he reached the double doors of the lift. He ignored everyone’s glare as he crammed himself in, bloody, sweaty and panting. He turned around and finally looked behind him. He watched the man that he assumed had shot Donald lift his weapon but before he could pull the trigger the lift doors were closed. David was safe for the moment. The lift began to rise. The other passengers stared at David’s bloody coat. Some with horror, and some with confusion. David smiled at them nervously and stared at the roof of the lift. The Cape Quarter Harbor consisted of a tiered, cylindrical building 50 stories high. At each floor a platform extended out which could dock up to fifty ships depending on size. The lower docks were all reserved for larger shipping vessels so they only held about five ships per platform. Platform eight was near the top of the first tier, which is where the larger pleasure vehicles were docked. 1 2 3 They stopped at the third for public transit vehicles. The entire lift emptied around David, except one old woman. It felt strange to him not to join the rest of the passengers traveling by Royal Public Transit service. The only time he had taken the lift beyond level three was just after college. A private archiving company had tried to recruit him by taking him for a luxurious yacht trip to one of the Roman moons. The yacht’s private chef had served actual chicken. Everyone had food poisoning before they reached their destination and David never left his cabin. He had never traveled on a yacht since. 4 5 6 The elevator lurched to a stop at 7. It took all of David’s self control not to throw the old woman that exited out the door. Once she had hobbled through David began frantically pushing the “close door” button as he bounced in his place. 7 8 David squeezed through the doors as soon as they were wide enough to get through. Before he could take another step toward his ship, an explosion boomed in his ears so loud he was sure his head had exploded from the inside. The small windows lining the covered platform all exploded into tiny pieces. Fire shot in from outside the shattering glass. David ducked and tried to cover his head with the briefcase. He screamed as glass flew into his leg. He had no idea what sort of firepower the men chasing him had brought but it seemed like they were planning to blow up the harbor with David inside. David limped as quickly as he could for dock 5. The glass in his leg seemed to be digging it’s way further in his calf. The lights that lined the tubular platform all flickered, and before he had reached the third dock they were out. The small Harbormaster bots that maintained the dock began spilling in through a hatch above the elevator. “Pardon me sir, but you seem to be injured.” ONe of the bots addressed him as it approached, “If you will please follow me to the emergency exit, medical attention will be administered.” David ignored the bot and continued toward his ship. The dock would have been pitch black beides the tiny lights of the harborbots. Luckily the building behind him was up in flames providing just enough light for David to make out where he was going. The Harbormaster bot continued to hover in front of him, shining it’s tiny spotlight in his face. “Sir, your vehicle may not be safe at this time, please continue to an emergency exit.” He continued forward ignoring the bot, and the pain in his leg. The air was starting to get thin. He panted as he looked out the glassless windows for his ship. A houseboat was untethering from dock five. It flew away revealing his ship on dock 6. David hadn’t seen it in years but he was sure this was the one. “Please, sir, you have been injured. For your own safety please allow me to restrain you.” He had almost reached the docking console when the bot’s retractable arms flew out and around his waist. More bots had been dispatched from the main building and were headed toward him with a stretcher between them. “Let me go!” He yelled at the bot and struggled to push its arms away. The more he struggled the tighter the robot’s grip became. David summoned the small amount of strength he had left and backed into the wall, attempting to crush the bot. It took two or three tries before he heard the crack of the projector lens breaking. The arms loosened and he was able to pull himself to the docking console. With the bot still wrapped around his ankles he slammed his hand down on the scanner. The doors opened and he crawled inside kicking at the harbor bot until it fell to the floor too shattered to function. The door slammed behind them cutting off the other two with the stretcher. David lay on his back on the floor gulping in the oxygenated air and wondering how the hell he was supposed to fly this ship.