Drifters' Alliance, Book 2 Page 6

  I try to let that good Samaritan vibe calm my nerves, but it’s not helping all that much. One of the best cons in the universe is the lame duck gambit. I’ve played it enough times myself to know it’s very effective when there are sentimental suckers around.

  My lieutenant’s fingers fly over his array, and a beep rings out into the flightdeck space, indicating the system’s readiness for his transmission. I let him handle the first contact attempt, certain he knows to use the three closest locator beacons to our position followed by the one farthest for directional purposes. It’s something almost everyone pretty much grows up learning how to do, even if they’ve been a Havenot all their lives like I suspect he has.

  Baebong’s voice sounds almost robotic as he reads the numbers off his screen. “Unknown personal craft at coordinates: x-ray 432, yankee 661, zulu 89, trajectory bravo, 10 meters per second, this is the DS Anarchy in your eleven o’clock, approximately three klicks, extending a reach, over.”

  We wait in total silence for a response but get none. A couple minutes later, I nod at Baebong to let him know he can re-transmit with the newer coordinates that have changed with every meter the ship has advanced.

  “Unknown personal craft now at coordinates x-ray 438, yankee 672, zulu 71, trajectory bravo, 10 meters per second, this is the DS Anarchy in your eleven o’clock, approximately two klicks, extending a reach, over.” His tone is more aggravated, matching the status of my nerves.

  I’m opening my mouth to tell Baebong to get our space junk vaporizers up and ready when we receive a response to our reach.

  “Reach accepted, DS Anarchy. Hello there!” This man’s voice can only be characterized as … jolly? “This is the PC Cruiser Mahalo, Captain Bob at the helm. Not sure we’ve met, as I don’t recognize your voice. Who’s your captain?” He sounds way too friendly to be trusted. Nobody appears out of thin air and acts that casual in my experience, especially someone who appears to be experiencing some sort of mechanical distress. The idea that he’s pretending to be a lame duck strengthens in my mind.

  I shake my head at Baebong when he looks at me for confirmation, so he sits back and lets me do the talking.

  “PC Mahalo, advise your intent,” I say. Not buying the bullshit, dude. Give it up.

  It takes him almost a full minute to respond. By that time, he’s less than a klick away, and we can see into his clearpanels. No one is visible, and that’s not a good sign as far as I’m concerned. I’ve heard stories about ships being piloted from a distance, being used as decoys, and it’s never for friendly purposes. And even though no one would have any call to use that tactic on us, I’m still on hyper alert. Cold sweats arrive, making me want to turn my seat’s heater on, but I ignore the impulse.

  “My intent?” Jolly Captain Bob finally says. “Well, I don’t really have any intent, other than to just cruise around the galaxy, see what there is to see. The moons around Dalaga are especially pretty right now, in case you haven’t heard. They’re not that far from here if you’d like to tag along.”

  Baebong and Jeffers both turn to stare at me, looking as lost as I feel. I shrug my shoulders in response. This has got to be a joke. This guy is acting like we’re best friends, but I’d remember a good old boy like this Bob person if I’d ever met him before, and I just don’t. So, either he’s a stranger who’s suffering a weird case of Darksickness, or he’s perfectly sane and putting on a hell of a show for purposes that could only mean bad news for my crew and me. He wants something from us, no doubt about it. But what could it be?

  Chapter Ten

  I PRESS THE COMM BUTTON to respond to Captain Bob’s invitation to visit Dalaga’s moons with him. “No, thanks. We’re headed in the other direction.” I mute the comm and look to my crew. “What the hell is this all about? Have either of you ever heard of this PC Mahalo or Captain Bob?”

  They both shake their heads but say nothing.

  I nod as I contemplate our options, staring out the clearpanel at the small ship still limping along. It’ll pass within ten meters of our starboard side shortly if we don’t change direction, and I don’t like the idea of it getting that close.

  “That’s too bad,” Captain Bob says, sounding a little disappointed. Or stressed, maybe.

  I’m not sure if I feel that way about the flavor of his transmission because I’m really sensing it or because I’m just paranoid and reading stress into anything I hear.

  He breaks my concentration by adding to his last transmission. “Listen, I’m uh, running a little short on water. Any chance you’d be willing to stock me up?”

  Baebong’s head shakes no, but he doesn’t look at me. Jeffers turns his chair to observe my next move.

  The alarm bells are ringing like crazy in my head again. If he needs water, he’s going the wrong way.

  “Water’s in short supply everywhere, in case you haven’t heard. Why are you headed away from it if you’re short?”

  Jeffers nods and turns around to watch the PC through the clearpanel. I feel as though he’s approved my transmission, and I’m annoyed that it makes me want to smile in satisfaction and self-pride. He’s not your parent or your superior. Stop seeking his approval.

  Captain Bob doesn’t answer right away, which only serves to heighten my sense of foreboding. “Lock onto his position with the junk vaporizers,” I say to my lieutenant after muting the comm. “We can at least knock him off that trajectory. Give us some more personal space.”

  Baebong speaks facing the clearpanel, his hand hovering over his array. “You want an actual lock? Because you know he’ll get an alert if he has his sensors up.”

  “Yes, I know that, thanks. And of course, not an actual lock. Just visual. Be cool about it. We don’t have enough power to vaporize him, anyway. I just want to deflect him or anything that he might be stupid enough to send our way.” Battling with those puny vaporizers is not an optimal setup, but Baebong and his cohorts haven’t had enough time to outfit our ship with anything better, and our shields aren’t that great against certain weapons this guy could be packing, so this is all I have to work with. I’m hoping I won’t have to use the stuff at all.

  “Oh, I have enough water to last me,” says Captain Bob. “Just thought I’d take the opportunity to top my levels.”

  Now he’s just pissing me off. A frigging vulture is just what I need in my life right now. “Well, we’re not exactly full ourselves, so how about I top my levels with what you’ve got?”

  “Now, now, no need to get all riled up. It was just a simple question.”

  All I keep thinking is that I have a ship to clean, crewmember mysteries to figure out, a hull to outfit with equipment, and a whole entire plan to come up with if the Alliance doesn’t accept us into their ranks, not to mention the issue of whether our universe is about to change in some fundamental way with the OSG hovering around all the water supplies. I don’t have time for this game he’s playing, whatever it is. And I’m pretty sure there is a game being played here, I just don’t know why I’m at the table or what the stakes are. Time to call his bluff.

  “Bugger off, Captain Bob. We’re not interested.”

  Jeffers turns to me with his eyebrows up in his hairline.

  I shrug at his shocked reaction. Maybe I should have been more professional about it, but I’ve learned that getting right to the heart of the matter tends to speed along the things that were going to happen anyway.

  “Now, that’s just downright rude, young lady. You don’t own this piece of the Dark, do you? No, you don’t. So, with that in mind, I think I’ll just hunker right down here in this spot and stay a spell. How d’ya like that?” His ship straightens out and suddenly starts acting like a well-manned Dark vehicle.

  I smile. Now we’ll see where this is really going. “The Dark is big enough that you don’t need to be parked at my front door. We have first comer’s rights to these coordinates. Stay near my ship, and I’ll consider that an act of aggression. You have one minute to bug off. Remain a mini
mum of two hundred klicks away if you want that hull of yours to remain whole.” There’s no weapon or listening device he could possibly have on that ship that’ll affect me from more than a hundred klicks away, but I like having a little safety buffer.

  “Or else what?” he asks, full of self-satisfaction, chuckling under his breath. He’s laughing at me, trying to let me know he’s not afraid. But if he’s not afraid of me, that’s a bad move on his part. I don’t like being aggressive toward someone smaller than I am, but he’s pushing me, and I refuse to be pushed.

  Time to take a shot in the dark. “Or else I’m going to put your friend Rollo into the float chamber and press the red button.”

  Both Baebong and Jeffers turn in their seats to stare at me. I wink at them and keep on smiling, even though inside my guts are twisting into knots. Are my instincts right this time? Usually I can count on them to never lead me astray, but this is a big reach, even for me. Could Rollo really be the link? His name and the threat I just tied to it for Captain Bob’s benefit just kind of popped out of my mouth.

  My mind is racing, trying to make sense of what’s going on. So far, we know that this Captain Bob guy showed up out of nowhere acting shifty. And then there’s Rollo who also showed up out of nowhere as a shifty stowaway. Link, link, link? What’s the link? I can’t come with anything putting those two together, but the fact that they both showed up in my life the way they did … that’s one too many coincidences involving shiftiness, as far as I’m concerned. This guy in the PC is either darkshit crazy or he has an agenda, but either way I’m willing to bet he’s not in it alone.

  If he’s bonkers, my options are to either blow him off course and send him on his way —which would mean watching my six around the clock for his return with vengeance on his mind— or I could abandon these coordinates myself and come back later. Unfortunately, that could interfere in my plans with the Alliance and ruin our chances of joining them or at least learning more about them. Neither option makes me happy or comfortable.

  But if he’s sane, and he does have an agenda, then it’s either one he planned a while ago —before or just after I got possession of the DS Anarchy— or one that he came up with on the fly when he saw us out here. Either way, an agenda with me at the center of it is not something I’m going to let slide. I can’t have loose ends trailing along behind me in the Dark.

  Crazy or sane? Crazy or sane? Which is he? And is my other mystery man Rollo involved with him in some way?

  “What’s this guy’s damage?” Baebong asks, interrupting my train of thought. “Is he for real? Is he really with Rollo?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, staring at the guy’s ship, trying to decide which way to go with it.

  “Maybe he just happened to find us out here,” Jeffers offers.

  I shake my head slowly. “The Triangulum Galaxy is pretty damn big. Two ships happening along next to each other on a route that doesn’t lead to any resources … it’s not something that happens very often, right?”

  Both Jeffers and Baebong shake their heads.

  “He did look kind of lost, though,” Jeffers says.

  Dalaga’s moons, my ass. “Sure, he was drifting along like a lame duck, but it just seems too neat, right? Too convenient?” Everything inside me is telling me not to trust his facade.

  “I agree,” Baebong says. He leans in closer to his controls, his fingers hovering over the buttons that I know will send a blast out in this guy’s direction if necessary.

  “Why did you mention Rollo?” Jeffers asks.

  “Too many coincidences,” I mumble as I stare at my adversary. “Too many game players for it not to be a game.” I’m too busy calculating the risks to hold a decent conversation right now. Knowing that a single mistake here could cost me everything, I decide my best bet is to go with the worst case scenario: Captain Bob is perfectly sane and running a gambit with me as his mark, and he has an inside man helping him out. I’m going to go ahead and assume that his agenda is purposeful too, and was formed long before he got here. So what or who is the connection among him, Rollo, and me? Because I have no idea who this character Captain Bob is, and I’ve never met Rollo before in my life.

  Chapter Eleven

  I HIT THE COMM BUTTON and bring up both the engine room and the biogrid. Captain Bob hasn’t responded to my last transmission yet, so I’m going to take advantage of his reticence to gather some info.

  “Attention, Gus, Tam, and Lucinda. If you know anyone named Captain Bob of the PC Mahalo, speak now or forever hold your peace. I’m about to blow him out of the Dark unless he’s a friend of yours.” My plan is not actually to blow him anywhere, but I need an immediate answer from my crewmembers, and I figure this is the best way to get it.

  The twins are the first to respond. “Tam and Gus here. We don’t know him. Are you really going to vaporize him? Can we watch?”

  I cut them off without responding.

  Lucinda is next. I can tell from her tone that she hasn’t forgiven me. “He’s no one I know.”

  She wouldn’t let a family member fry, so I’m not going to worry that I’ll upset the Romanii nation on this one.

  “I don’t know him either,” volunteers Jeffers, “but he could be anyone. He’s not necessarily a threat.”

  Captain Bob finally comes back on the line. “Rollo? Who’s Rollo? I don’t know any Rollo.”

  His clueless denial and its delayed arrival scream culpability to me. “Okay, then, I guess you won’t mind watching him float.” I let the comm stay hot while I issue my next order. “Jeffers, please go get our stowaway and escort him to the float chamber.”

  Jeffers stands slowly and then points to himself and the door, mouthing something silently. While I can’t figure out exactly what he’s trying to say, I assume he’s asking if I really mean what I said, so I nod and gesture again, urging him to hurry up. The sound of the flightdeck door opening and Jeffers’ retreating footsteps transmit over to the PC Mahalo.

  “In about five minutes, Captain Bob, you’re going to see your friend Rollo’s face in the float chamber’s airlock, and by then it’ll be too late. Once I press that button, it’s all over but the exploding lungs.”

  I look over at Baebong while muting the comm. “Put that chamber on live comm. Let Captain Bob hear what Rollo has to say.”

  “You’re not really going to float him out there, are you?”

  I shrug, trying to act casual about something I’m now in too deep to completely control. I have no plan other than to try and get this guy to fold before I have to. Of course I’m not going to float that idiot Rollo, but I’m not against using him to further my purposes. At least he’ll have some value to me before I dump him off at the next station. Hopefully this Captain Bob won’t call my bluff.

  “Not if I don’t have to,” I say, when Baebong doesn’t seem satisfied with my body language. It’s better if my crew believes I’ll do it. Tone of voice can tell too much about a person’s state of mind, and I don’t want Baebong or Jeffers letting this Bob guy know I’m bluffing.

  “Crazy bitch,” Baebong mutters, but he turns around and links in the comm from the float chamber. Soon, the sounds of a struggle and Rollo’s frustrated voice come over the line. I love how he’s playing the roll of freaked out prisoner on death’s doorstep so well. If this Captain Bob knows him at all and likes him even the littlest bit, we’ll find out.

  “What’s going on?!” Rollo screeches in fear. “Why is Rollo here in the float chamber?! Rollo hates float chambers! Rollo’s claustrophobic! Rollo’s allergic to the Dark!”

  Apparently he didn’t hear my last transmission asking whether anyone knows Captain Bob. Even better. I flick on the visual link so we can see what’s happening.

  Jeffers has Rollo’s arm twisted behind his back and his body pressed into the side wall of the chamber very near the clearpanel. I find myself smiling, looking forward to the day that Jeffers finally breaks down and tells me his real story, because, damn, he sure knows h
is way around subduing prisoners. Healer, my ass.

  “Give him a nice view of his final resting place,” I say over the comm to Jeffers, making sure Captain Bob will hear my order too.

  Jeffers manhandles our prisoner over to the clearpanel, and Rollo stares out into the abyss. “Oh, Jesus, no,” he whimpers. “Rollo’s afraid of the Dark.”

  I can’t keep the glee from my voice. Rollo’s playing his role perfectly, and he doesn’t even realize it. “Jesus isn’t going to save you, Rollo. Only Captain Bob can do that.” I sit back and wait for a response, almost certain I won’t have to wait long.

  Less than five seconds later, Rollo’s head twists his face up toward the comm box above him, his voice full of hope. “Captain Bob? Did you say Captain Bob?”

  I cut Bob off the comm so I can speak directly with Rollo. “Yes, I did, Rollo. He claims not to know you, but I think he’s lying. Tell me who he is and what he’s up to, and you’ll come out of the chamber.”

  “Out, as in… out into the Dark?” His voice holds a thread of fear wrapped tightly around one of hope. I’m almost tempted to make him wait on my answer, but I’m not that cruel.

  “No, out as in back onto the ship.” I link Captain Bob into the conversation. “So what’s it going to be, Rollo? Do you know Captain Bob or not?”

  He sighs heavily and slumps in Jeffers’ hold, no longer resisting. “Yes, Rollo knows Captain Bob.”