Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy Page 30

  Chapter Twenty Five

  The show broke into tumult resembling the smash-dance club . It was more even than what such an unusual performance should generate.

  “Where did your friend go?” Durn asked.

  “Oh, he'll be back,” Jordahk answered. It was slow going, fighting the crowd, making their way down to reunite with Zoraida. The club had, in an instant, become too small for all the people. “Max, what's going on?”

  “Zoraida suppressed a stage one station alert. All visitors are to leave. All proprietors are to close their shops immediately.”

  “Infra-great. Stay together,” Jordahk said to Solia.

  She in turn looked back at Durn, who had paused.

  “What are you doing? Come on.”

  He looked afar off for a moment, and his eyes grew wide.

  “Someone's trying to take my ship!” He shook his head and tightened his mouth. “I have to go.” Durn turned and got lost in the crowd.

  Jordahk lifted his eyebrows. “Let's go.”

  “What about him?” Solia asked.

  “Don't worry. He's acquired a knack for coming out ahead.” Jordahk pushed on through the crowd. “If they're shutting down commerce... Max, what's really going on out there?”

  “According to Barrister, a large group of unidentified ships is approaching in manifold space.”

  “Ingots. Who's not in this system.”

  Solia looked more determined than anxious. “We've got to get off-station.”

  “We will. Just got to pick up our rep.” He could hear Solia's silent groan over the din. “She's from our fleet. I can't just leave her in a lurch.”

  They bumped their way down to the lower tiers. The retreating crowd thinned to reveal Zoraida berating someone. It was the man in clothes that looked more like a banker or lawyer trying to dress casual than the vibrant colors of long adolescence. Zoraida dominated whatever communication they were having. In the confusion, no one was paying attention.

  Jordahk tried to focus on her words, and somehow they came to him through the clamor. “...organization. Why were you so sloppy!”

  She slapped him hard across the face. His features distorted for a second, stretching to the side as he staggered. The man stumbled back onto his butt.

  The hand he swiped across his mouth came away red although no injury seemed apparent on his face. “No one's ever cared before!”

  “You're lucky we don't space you. But at least your incompetence was advantageous for me.” She saw them approaching and waved an imperious backhand at the fallen man. “Now get out of my sight.”

  He scrambled away, head low.

  “Max, did you see that?” Jordahk sub-whispered.

  “The distortion? Yeah.”

  “A VAD mask.”

  “I think so.”

  Zoraida turned, acting as if nothing took place. Perhaps she thought Jordahk out of earshot. A reasonable assumption normally.

  “What was that all about?” Jordahk asked.

  Zoraida made a dismissive sound. “Just a fool drying up in the desert sun.” She moved forward indicating the subject closed.

  Solia turned before the woman could get in front of her. “Let's push our way to the lifts.”

  On the main plaza the crowding had reversed. Clusters of people waited at entries to the shuttle and tender bays instead of the lift banks to popular spokes. Concourse security was deploying officers on fanpacks and even chekas. Jordahk hadn't seen one of those hovering enforcement devices since Beuker. It wasn't a fond memory. Surely their use here was extraordinary.

  “It's this way,” Zoraida said.

  It sounded more like an order as she moved toward her shuttle bay. Jordahk just wanted to get her to her ship and be done with it.

  Solia looked around. “So many people to get out.”

  “It'll be alright,” Jordahk said. “The concourse probably maintains a flotilla of their own shuttles. It pays to get people here after all.”

  No doubt every non-connected orbiting hotel and business station had frequent launches to Concourse. And riding the beam made travel to and from orbit so cheap that there might be dozens of AI controlled shuttles in flight at any one time.

  Zoraida stopped short, her face souring. “Another fool! Darren has apparently let my shuttle get conscripted. I'll have to ride out to the fleet with you.”

  Jordahk's stomach sank as he exchanged glances with Solia. Legendary Aurora was not for prying eyes. She could transform to look ordinary from the outside, at least as ordinary as an old mystic corvette could be these days. But what could be done on the inside to hide her amazing construction was limited, especially off the common spaces.

  “Ah, that's not a good idea. We're a warship.”

  “A warship without a crew.” Zoraida glanced at Solia. “Certainly you're not counting her. No, I don't think you're planning on combat.”

  Solia opened her mouth to say something, but Jordahk, searching for a way out, beat her to it.

  “Let's find you alternative transport.”

  Attention tones echoed across the plaza. That was unusual in itself since official messages were routinely transmitted on public channels to personal compies. Gigantic VADs appeared along the station's center-line and cascaded into the distance.

  “Stage Two Alert. All proprietors, employees, and non-essential crew to leave Concourse immediately.”

  Jordahk shook his head.

  Radiated space!

  “The line for alternative transport just got longer,” Max link-said.

  He didn't trust her, but off-loading her was getting more difficult by the second. And becoming an extended endeavor. He shook his head in resignation.

  Anything larger than shuttles used parking orbits and tenders. Warships always parked off the rear of the station. Jordahk moved to the center-line courtesy cars. Solia was reluctant but he implored her with wide eyes.

  “Aristahl is already off-station,” Max link-said.

  “What? Where?” Jordahk sub-whispered.

  “To the jetty.”

  They were on their own, and Aurora was in his hands. “Okay, we've got to get to the rear bays, ASAP.”

  Max thoughtfully reserved a courtesy car just in time. The transport system became jammed at the advent of the stage two alert. At the back of the station, its oldest section, a man stood guard at the entrance to the tender bay. He looked like some sort of crew chief conscripted for security duty. He barred their entry, pointing to a large VAD right next to him that they had all ignored.

  “No can do. You'll have to get a tender from a forward bay or wait until Orbital Patrol officers get out to their ships.”

  Jordahk was getting impatient. Space battles took a long time to set up, but once it was game-on the pace was unrelenting. He had no allusions that Aventicia Orbital Patrol was going to play any part in a battle that might soon sweep the system.

  They pulled back into an obvious, impromptu huddle. Stunning the man and cracking the hatch crossed Jordahk's mind. But doing something wrong for a greater good wasn't in him.

  Zoraida gave Solia an appraising look from head to toe, and frowned.

  “Better let me handle this.”

  Zoraida's clothes tightened, and slits lengthened. She sauntered back to the man whose attention suddenly became riveted.

  “She doesn't seriously think that's going to work,” Solia hissed. “I mean come on. It's the giga-oldest trick in the postbook.”

  As Zoraida continued schmoozing the man, she playfully touched his arm and his demeanor softened.

  “Well, seeing as you're a diplomat,” the man said, his reluctance fading, “and you need transport to a Confidence Fleet warship…”

  Zoraida flashed a practiced smile. “Thank you, Wallace. I won't forget this. Perhaps I can relate to the station bay chief how you were the right man at the right time for us.”

  She turned and motioned for them to pass through the hatch opened by crew chief Wallace. Zoraida murmured som
ething about “feminine wiles” as Solia passed. They rushed to the lone remaining tender in the bay and raced out toward the Aurora with minimal checks.

  Jordahk couldn't help but notice Zoraida sitting unnecessarily close to him. Her white outfit, still configured to impress Wallace, rubbed against him.

  “It's a big shuttle, you know,” Solia said.

  Zoraida ignored her and touched Jordahk's arm. “So that was you helping me back in the club.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He didn't think playing dumb would work, but it was worth a try.

  “Uh-huh. Quite the job in limiting circumstances.” She glanced down at his compy, which he once again wished more shiny and less like the matte ceramic look of high mystic. “Must be quite the mystic compy. But of course the saving was in the wielding, wasn't it?”

  She moved her face close. Her eyelashes were extra long, and her irises gleamed with their reflectivity mod.

  Is she flirting with me?

  If someone was shooting at him he could think of something. But this flirtatious advance left him scrambling for battle plans. His own lack of preparedness shocked him.

  “I… didn't like the odds.”

  “Maybe when this system is brought to order, and commerce is flowing again, you and I can spend a little time together. I want to thank you for helping me. I'm learning there's a lot more to you than meets the eye.”

  Jordahk's skin prickled. Like he was standing too close to an active starkeel.

  “Relationships aren't my strong suit.”

  “Hmpf,” Solia said. “Veritas.”

  Space battle suddenly seemed slightly less horrendous than usual.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  Durn fumed while fighting crowds to his shuttle bay.

  The nerve!

  The shuttle may not be officially labeled diplomatic, but who would mess with Shade Momentum? Considering their security, who could?

  He was finally free from evacuating throngs and passed through his bay's double hatch. The gleaming black shuttle was at launch readiness rather than standing by. Its maintenance bots were boarded except for two guarding the entry hatch. He busted through the cordon of stun floaters and passed the shiny bots ready to let whomever was trying to take the ship know who they were dealing with.

  In the pristine air of the cabin he found an old man, reclined in one of the chairs like he belonged, wearing an absurd grin.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “Why, I have chartered this shuttle,” the old man said. “Who might you be?”

  “Darren Starr. Perhaps you've—”

  “Ah, Darren Starr. Hero of Adams Rush.”

  “Huh? Well, I guess my reputation has reached even here.” At least the old man was informed. “But this shuttle has been assigned long-term.”

  “So the crew believed, but Shade Momentum Aventicia has no record of such a deal. They seem quite anxious to grant my priority charter.”

  He opened his mouth to say something but realized he knew nothing about the situation with Zoraida and the shuttle. Only that he was added as an official passenger when they left the fleet. As for a priority charter with Shade Momentum, they start expensive and go up from there.

  “What kind of priority are we talking about?”

  “As high as their scale goes,” the old man said. “It is critical I get to the Jetty before the fighting starts.”

  There was certainty in the man's voice on this topic Durn didn't care for.

  “You mean before the potential fighting.”

  “Oh, yes, potential.” The old man couldn't have sounded less sincere. “What I need to do will have great impact on the coming potential battle.”

  “Perhaps you're unaware. All the evacuations have made orbital space crowded. And racing across busy lanes at Shade Momentum speeds is dangerous. Your best bet is a wide arc away from Aventicia.”

  “Safest bet perhaps. Certainly not the fastest.” The man eyed him curiously. “Desperate situations call for heroic measures. That is what you are known for, is it not?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “It will be a short drop-off at the speeds this craft can achieve.”

  The man's single minded focus was exasperating. “This is all moot. I told you this shuttle is reserved for a long-term contract.”

  “Really? Shade local tells me they only need your permission for this minor... detour.”

  “Mine?” Perhaps he carried more weight than he thought. “Well, if it's to save lives and the fleet and all that, I'd give my permission, but there's another passenger.”

  “I would say that constitutes tacit permission,” the man spoke into the air.

  A whine penetrated the ship followed by vibration before the shuttle's grav weaves kicked in. Warning lights shone in a subtle Shade Momentum way, and the shuttle AI began to encourage him to strap in.

  A spike of panic hit him before he swallowed it back down. “Wait, what about the other passenger?”

  “Surely they can find alternative transport.”

  Zoraida was commanding and resourceful. With emphasis on the commanding.

  “She'd probably have the station moved out to the fleet for her convenience,” he mumbled.

  “Then it is settled.”

  “For your comfort and safety,” the shuttle AI said, “your seats are being oriented into launch configuration.”

  “Wait, wait,” came a metallic drone from the entry hatch. “Don't leave without me.”

  An old, battered nurse bot stepped awkwardly onto the passenger deck before configuring down into trundle mode. It clamped itself next to the old man.

  “You are late, Torious,” the man said.

  “You may not know this,” it droned, “but the station is in near panic, and no one gets out of the way for a robot.”

  The realization that they were launching didn't hit him until he saw the bay moving through the crystal panes. He scrambled to a seat across from the man as they bolted out with what must be prior authorization.

  They rocketed through traffic, swerving around other shuttles and leaving larger ships in their wake. This was no ordinary traffic clearance. This was something premium, likely boosting the Aventicia Orbital Control budget.

  Another warning VAD appeared and the shuttle vibrated before a second set of engines kicked in. The acceleration was obvious from the passing environment even if the grav weaves hid it. The man looked out with a smile.

  “Quite the little shuttle,” he said, “for a scientum toy.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don't mind him,” the robot said. “He's from another era.”

  Ships and stations were passed with margins that made him uncomfortable. He'd seen too many accidents over the years at Orbital. The thought jogged memories from his time at the agency he'd made an effort to forget. The man became familiar.

  Come to think of it, the scene was giving him a sense of deja vu. The feeling only grew stronger as they sat in the quiet luxury.

  “So what kind of aid is so critical?” Durn asked. “If you don't mind me saying, you don't seem the starmada type.”

  “Clinically speaking,” the robot said, “what does that type look like?”

  Durn shook his head, not sure how to take this malfunctioning robot. He looked back to the man.

  “Are you some sort of information specialist or something?”

  “Yes to both,” the man said. He seemed more interested in the view and the comfort of the seats. “The galleons must launch.”

  “The galleons?”

  “Would you like me to check your hearing Darren Starr?” the robot asked.

  “Now Toroius, go easy on the man who allowed us to take this little jaunt.” The man glanced about as if the entire shuttle was crystal. “We are really moving now, for a conventional craft.”

  Durn brought up an orbital plot VAD. His practiced eye was all too aware of their danger. He contacted the ro
botic flight crew to inform them of what he considered excessive, unnecessary risk.

  “We aren't exceeding safety margins for this priority,” they responded.

  “You're exceeding mine!” Durn turned to the man. “What kind of priority did you engage?”

  “I told you, the highest. I could have added an old military code, but it seemed unnecessary. Shade Momentum has great latitude here at Aventicia.”

  They raced toward a hauler being towed. Unexpectedly one of the tugs separated from the cargo ship and veered into their path. The shuttle's forward thrust ring, as shiny black as the rest of the hull, flared to life with gouts of plasma. The cabin remained free of alarms that would have blared on any other craft. The wendells powering their engines red-lined and the ship roared past a near collision with no loss of time.

  But Durn felt he'd lost some of his wits. “This is crazy! Pilot AIs can't predict everything.”

  “Yes, no one can,” the man answered what Durn had put out as rhetorical.

  “Would the Hero of Adams Rush like a sedative?” the robot asked.

  “Torious,” the man chided.

  Durn, a little stung, recovered his composure. He only needed to survive another few minutes as they closed on the Jetty. The nagging feeling that this man should be known to him returned. But his compy could not help. It was new, to go along with his new post-Orbital image. Most of his old information was locked away in storage back at Adams Rush.

  “Are you familiar with Adams Rush?” Durn asked.

  “Been there,” the man said.

  A dot appeared in the distance. It grew to an oblong shape. Durn began wondering when the braking would start.

  “Shade Momentum Aventicia is requesting the second payment authorization,” the man's AI said.

  A financial transaction VAD appeared with a yes/no confirmation box. The man casually swiped the “yes.”

  “I would say they have lived up to their pledge.”

  Durn only got a glance at the figure, but it seemed to have one zero too many. Before them the oblong shape had grown into the outline of Aventicia's famous asteroid base. It appeared rusty in the light of Granamar.

  “Shouldn't we be braking?” Durn asked. As if in response, the shuttle flipped over so that its nose pointed backwards. “Main thrust braking? Who does that any more? Thrust rings can channel everything necessary.”