Galaxy's End: Book One Read online

  He was right and we both knew it. But that was not the answer to the question I’d tried to ask. I said, “But are we doing the right thing? The three of us, I mean. Coming on this ship and agreeing to join Captain Stone on her ship?”

  Bert sighed and answered softly, “For the first time in years, I’m excited for you. I’m also impressed that you have not tried to manipulate the captain with your mind. Such disciplined control is impressive. I believe it also demonstrates a measure of trust you give to few others.”

  There were no words to reply. Bert had said it all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Captain Stone

  Captain Stone decided to pay a visit to Fang when she left Bill in the dining room to consider their recent conversation about his future. However, first, she had a few things to consider. Bill was quiet and the dining room was a good place to plan her next move.

  Fang had vaguely mentioned something about him not being the only one on the ship to have seen the wanted posting concerning her, or a similar statement. She wanted that clarified. She also wanted to attempt to catch him in a lie. Or not. With Fang, her intentions could change with the upcoming talk.

  He was a bounty-hunter and probably a part-time detective on the side. There were not enough escapees to make it pay a livable wage, and travel between stars is anything but cheap. That meant there had to be more to him than she knew.

  Fang probably traced people who tried disappearing into society, along with the money or property of others, which usually meant a spouse running away with a new life-partner. Skill in finding those individuals could pay him well. Most of those types of assignments offered a percentage of the value returned. However, not well enough to buy passage on a starship often, as seemed to be the case with him.

  If he was on the other side of a narrow line of legality, just over the far side, and she on the other, their work was not all that different. She tried to make her ship appear honest and for the most part, her dealings were. She supplied a service in transporting items from one world to another. The rules of individual planets didn’t dictate her cargo. More than once, she’d been called a smuggler.

  Importing certain items were always against local laws. There had been a planet settled by humans where all farming had to be done with draft animals. It was part of their religion and required. Contract in hand, Stone had arrived with five tractors—and located the farmer who wished to buy them. It had nearly caused a civil war. She was banned from returning.

  They would have arrested and tried her if the ship hadn’t made an emergency liftoff. Banning her was the most they could do.

  The fact that one or both worlds might object to her cargo was of little concern. In simplistic terms, her ship transported cargo from here to there. What petty laws, rules, and regulations that existed on each world were not her concern. If she was paid upfront, she did her best to arrive with the containers and their contents on time.

  There were items she knew were not allowed on some worlds, but that was their choice. What was inside the containers, or if the descriptions on the bills of lading matched the contents or not, were not her concern. They were the province of others. She had a hard and fast rule, the same as most traders. A container was never opened on her ship.

  That was the golden rule of traders. They took the information listed on the manifests as fact. The cargo was sealed.

  That way, the ship, and the crew always had plausible deniability. They had been lied to about the contents of cargo pods listed on the manifest. More than once, she’d faced an official and plaintively said, “The invoice was to ship a crate. The shipper placed the list of contents on the container in the proper manner and we are an honest company that does not open containers, nor do we help ourselves to what we find in them. Our cargo hold is sealed before lift-off and your people removed that intact seal when we landed. Now, how can we possibly be held responsible for what was shipped?”

  On a ship the size of the Guardia, a hundred crates could be hidden behind a false wall or similar—and had been. People had been likewise been transported. Not a lot, but a few that paid well. Stone didn’t care what they’d done if nothing happened on her ship. They were also secured in a locked hold, complete with food, water, and toilet facilities. Smuggling was second nature to traders since the dawn of time on the oldest planets in the galaxy.

  No sense in taking unnecessary chances, which brought her back to a required meeting with Fang.

  Bill drew her attention as he impatiently tapped a finger on the table. She had been lost in her thoughts and ignored him. She said, “Listen, I’d like to invite another traveler to join us here. Kat has met him, a strange little creature that tried to take me captive and turn me in for a reward. Would you mind?”

  Bill shrugged. They had about talked out his ideas of leaving the trio for the better good and decided that it was not necessary. He looked forward to learning and being paid to work on mechanical things. The ship could use an engineer, even one learning the trade, the captain said. He’d work hard and earn his way and he wore a smile.

  She motioned to a steward and told him she wanted a message delivered to Fang. After sensing reluctance, Stone smiled and told the steward, “There’ll be something extra in it for you.”

  The steward wiped his hands on the white apron covering his thighs and nodded, agreeing to the task and reward, but not enjoying it. He was the same steward who had lifted and placed Fang on the high stool at the table.

  Bill thought about her statement instead of his potential future. He asked, “This is the same bounty hunter that tried to sedate you and turn you over to the police for a reward?”

  “Just business, as Fang says.”

  “Why invite him to join us?”

  “Think of it as more of a summons. There are a few nits I wish to clear up.”

  “Nits?”

  “Nits and gnats. Tiny thoughts that should be discussed. Have you ever had ice cream, Bill?”

  “Uh?”

  The sudden change of subject threw him off, as was intended. She cooed, “No, of course, you haven’t. On the Guardia, we installed a freezer just to store ice creams from different worlds.” She turned to find another steward and instead found the eyes of a tall woman, probably not human. It was not that their eyes had met—that was normal. It was the speed and ease that they had flicked away in a different direction. A guilty move. She had been watching Stone.

  Stone ignored the action and asked for two servings of three scoops of ice cream, each a different flavor if that was possible. The steward said, “We have three varieties, two of which you will enjoy, the third is an acquired taste but I’ll include it.”

  Fang entered and was helped on the elevated seat by the false-smiling steward sent to summon him. His skin was dripping wet, the lemon smell stronger, and he curled his lips in imitation of a smile. The rows of razor-like teeth belied the smile. “I welcome your invitation. It was lonely in my small cabin.”

  Stone matched his false smile and said, “Then this meeting works out well for both of us. Hopefully, many more things will also.”

  Fang asked the steward for a meal of rehydrated protein, which Stone knew meant insects that had been dried for months, perhaps years. She would look away while Fang ate, but many races enjoyed the benefits of consuming high-protein insects. They were cheap to raise for the growers and often tasty.

  Fang turned to Bill. “You are the spouse of the young one called Kat?”

  Stone intercepted before Bill could respond, “No, he is not the spouse, in the usual sense of the word, however they travel together as two of a trio. Bill, is it true that you’ve accompanied Kat on her every off-world adventure?”

  Bill caught on at once. He was to remain as silent as possible and answer no question directly. He gave Stone a small nod and said, “That would be the total truth.”

  Fang turned to the captain. “Was this an invitation or formal request for my presence?”

  “I hate to
be formal on a small ship, don’t you?” she said, dodging the question in such a way that told Fang it was a formal summons.”

  Fang’s meal arrived along with the ice cream and all three of them lifted spoons as if in salute, a human gesture most races embraced in one manner or another. Eating slowly was an effective way for Bill to hide and think about his answers before speaking. Stone tasted the yellow ball of ice cream; found she hadn’t tasted the flavor before—and didn’t care for it. “Bill try the others, not the yellow, not yet.”

  Fang chewed and chewed on the spoon full of insects before he asked, “What may I do for you, captain?”

  Stone said, “I am under the impression you may not be the only one on this ship who knows there is a reward for me. Is the tall humanoid seated behind me the other?”

  Fang looked ready to eat another mouth full, turned a pair of eyestalks to look over Stone’s shoulder, and chewed slyly, two of his other pairs of eyes slightly narrowed. “Could we discuss a sale and purchase of that information?”

  It was Stone’s turn to fill her mouth while she thought. It was a simple yes or no question. Or had been. Fang’s response showed it may be something else. It was her fault for asking a question in such a direct manner. That placed Fang in a position of power.

  The answer might be a simple yes or no, and after she agreed to the sale, Fang could give her one of those two responses. His change in attitude might be because the answer was not either of those. By asking, she confirmed she didn’t know another piece of information.

  Clever bastard. He had her cornered. He knew it.

  She smiled as if not caring about the answer, “Why don’t we change the subject?”

  Fang replied, “That may be dangerous.”

  Again, she could interpret the green thing’s response in any way she liked and stood a good chance of being wrong. “What do you want for the answer?”

  “My data chip.”

  Too clever by half.

  Or perhaps not. She raised a single finger to summon the same steward she’d spoken to earlier. “Excuse me, I’ll return in a short while. There’s something I must do. Enjoy your ice cream and insects.”

  She stood with a faint smile as the steward approached and nodded to the door where she wanted him to lead her. Once outside in the corridor, and out of the hearing range of Fang and Bill, she said, “Comm room, as quickly as possible.”

  The steward broke into a trot to show he was earning his tip. In truth, there is a limit to how fast a person can trot down a hallway only eight meters long. But he tried.

  He pulled up at a door, twisted the handle, and held it open for her to enter. She said, “Not a word as to where I went, especially to those I was with. Stand out here until I’m done, please. My generosity depends on it.”

  Inside a nervous creature with at least two active minds, eight legs, and a pair of fighting claws, as well as several small manipulators, watched her warily. It was not a crab, strictly speaking, but more closely related to a scorpion, although not one of Earth origin. It was of a solitary race known as Champers, often found of starships.

  When together, they communicated with each other with clicks, pops, and crackles. Because of multiple minds in the same carapace, it was similar to a symbiotic relationship. Only one Champers slept at a time, so they worked around the clock in shifts, with at least two remaining awake always. They were perfect for navigation and communication duties and needed two-thirds fewer bodies for the ships to pay. A standard voice-box hung from its reddish-brown carapace. “May I be of service?”

  “A sub-space message.” They were horribly expensive, but before she continued bargaining with Fang, she needed to know the Guardia was not in trouble before she went any further.

  “Expensive,” the crab said as it flipped switches and readied the equipment.

  “Text only. Reply required.”

  The crab repeated her instructions although the conversation was also recorded to settle any disputes. With the enormous cost of sub-space messages using quantum routing, which implied the message would be received before it was sent, the ship had every right to require payment in advance.

  The door to the comm room opened and the steward she had left on guard duty at the door, the one that now refused to make eye-contact, carried Fang inside.

  Fang noticed her scowl at the steward. “Come now, Captain it’s not his fault that I promised him a larger tip than you. Just business.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Preventing you from making a serious error. Steward put me down next to a wall where nobody is likely to step on me—and depart to your door-guard duty and this time, do not allow anyone inside or I will remove an appendage of yours at my choice.”

  The door closed with the three of them inside the comm room.

  Stone said to Fang, “This is confidential business. Get out.”

  “Not yet,” Fang growled menacingly. “You cannot use your credit accounts, I suspect. The tickets you bought for passage on this ship have no doubt been traced to your account, probably by the DNA you left behind when in disguise and searching for Kat. Using those accounts will confirm to the authorities that are aboard this ship. For that reason alone, you must refrain.”

  “Roma is not going to be that upset at the money I took them for. In a day, they take in far more than that.”

  “You opened the door to similar fraud avenues for others to use. In response, they posted a modest reward, and they already suspect your end destination is Escobar Habitat but are not certain. Using your account will tell them all they need. There will be agents, police, military, and bounty hunters awaiting our landing on Franklin if you use your account to pay for the transmission you wish to send. I also assume your account has been frozen and the charges will ultimately be rejected.”

  Stone watched him closely. How had he accumulated so much, and so accurate information about her in such a brief time? She said, “Your suggestion if you have one?”

  “Use my data chip. I’ll authorize it for a modest usage fee to be paid later.”

  Fang might be correct. He probably was. Fang hadn’t asked nearly as much of a fee as she expected, but he didn’t offer to do it for free, either. She nodded her agreement. The comm tech verified the charges on Fang’s account and turned to her with a question about the message. Stone gave it five random letters for sending. Nothing else.

  “That is the entirety of the message? Adding a few thousand more words will not change the cost of the transmission.” The crab spoke flawlessly through the voice box.

  “Just that. Those five letters.”

  The crab went to work.

  In less than a standard tenth of time, a single sheet of paper appeared from a slot. Stone glanced at it and her heart sank. Three letters. Random. They meant nothing in themselves, but the underlying code was that any five characters on the return message meant things were well on Guardia. Seven, said minor problems were routinely being handled, no worries.

  But three. Any three random letters. Like the old SOS code. The Guardia was in trouble. Three meant serious trouble. It was a preplanned code only she would understand.

  Fang had been correct.

  She wondered what else he knew. . ..

  CHAPTER NINE

  Kat

  I considered changing my name again this morning. Kat is not really who I am. Even the spelling was wrong. Nobody on the ship knew me, except for the three I traveled with. Two of them were used to me making such changes. I could start anew—again. I always liked new beginnings.

  In the past, one day my hair had been down to my waist and shaved to a clean skull the next. Light brown hair coloring, dark, pale pink, any color that would rinse out with the next washing . . . or rainstorm I got caught in.

  Making changes to myself was like keeping the boogeyman away because he couldn’t find me. Remain the same and you get caught when they catch up with you. I didn’t want to get caught despite that I’d never re
ally done anything I’d be ashamed of. Well, not professionally.

  Kat was maybe a good name, I reconsidered. A longer one might suit me better. In some ways, Kat sounded like the noise people make when they inhale flying insects. Kat. Kat.

  I grinned as I imagined Fang making the kat sound. I laid on my back in a perfectly comfortable bed, the nicest ever, and looked up at the underside of the bed above me and growled in frustration at my attitude. I was warm, dry, fed, surrounded by three friends, and had credits in my bank account. For the first time, I might have a future where I’d earn a good living.

  So, why did I feel like I did?

  I got up and growled some more as I said, “Bert, I’m going to the galley. Want anything?”

  “Worms,” he said. “Live ones. If not, grubs. Any kind will do.”

  “Carrots okay?” I knew he ate them.

  “Skip it,” he said in a voice that sounded like he had some frustrations of his own, and his computer keys began clacking and clicking again. He also inputs data via voice and touchpads. Using all three was faster for him, and since he usually worked on more than one computer, and more than one subject, it saved confusion by turning off the voice commands on all but one.

  I went out the door intent on finding what the ship was all about. Not just the surface stuff, which was not impressive nor clean. Small signs were attached to each door. Most were cabin numbers for passenger cabins. Others were for crew functions and included stern warnings for passengers to “stay out”.

  A community bathroom for those who didn’t find the facilities in their cabins satisfactory, and the galley where we ate, and our cabin, were the only places I could access without getting into trouble. I opened the door to the galley and found Bill sitting alone, scraping the bottom of a small bowl with a utensil.