13 Degrees of Separation
Read 13 Degrees of Separation Online
Authors: Chris Hechtl
13 Degrees of Separation
A series of short stories in the Wandering Engineer
universe
Chris “Jekyll” Hechtl
Copyright:
This is
a work of fiction. All characters, events, and locations are fictional. Some
may be parodies. Some characters are with permission. Any resemblance of some
characters and places to others are strictly in the mind of the reader. :)
Copyright
Chris Hechtl 2013 All rights reserved.
All
rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book and or portions
thereof in any form.
Cover
art by Chris Hechtl 2013 All rights reserved.
The
image was created with packages created from various vendors on ShareCG.com,
Renderosity.com, and Daz3D.com.
Proof Read and Copy Edited by: Gord Archer, Jacob Larson,
Brandon Bynum, Thomas Burrows, Jim Olson, Jory Gray, and Poon Yee
Dedication
Hmm.... a lot of people or organizations contributed to
stroking my imagination over the years, and I borrowed a few here and in other
books. I thank them for the inspiration.
And as always, thanks to my family and the volunteer
Editors who have been helping me push these stories out for you the readers. :)
Note: No, it's not deliberate that this is my 13
th
book and it has 13 in the title. (Yes, I know, only 10 others have been
published) Still, it's cool and all. :)
The adventures of Nohar Private
Investigator
Rough Timeline of Books and
Stories:
Author's note:
The following is a collection
of stories, some of which I had intended to release prior to Jethro 2.
Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way. Sorry about that.
At the start of each story I
have a general time indicator as well as a list of characters. I had intended
to leave it out, but this may help you keep track of who is who. ;)
Now, on with the stories!
Time Period: Fool's Gold
Dramatic personnel/vessel:
Cowgirl: Annie Oakley
Mariah's Mischief: medium freighter/transport
Captain: 'honest sort.' silvering hair on temple and sides
Executive officer: High elf bluish skin, silver hair, long ears
Knuyuk the Veraxin assistant cargo master/purser
Bridge officer: Warrick
John Darling: glasses, tall, assistant engineer to Peter brother
to Michael and Wendy
Wendy Darling: assistant purser to Knuyuk Former flame of Peter.
Married, daughter Jane
George Darling: father to Wendy, John, and Michael. Was purser.
Had a fatal heart attack
Michael Darling: youngest sibling of Darlings.
Jane Darling: daughter to Wendy and Peter.
Roger: Husband to Wendy
Peter “Pan the man” Rogers Banning: Chief engineer: decent well
trained fellow.
Lost boys: Peter's engineering staff
...*...*...*...*...
Annie Oakley, cowgirl of the space lanes pursed her lips, looking
out over the windy hills of her homeworld of New Texas. Freeport the capital
city was quiet, real quiet, which was to be expected right about now. She
dusted herself off and then picked up her duffels with callused hands. Her tan
cowgirl hat was her trademark, she adjusted it so it wouldn't blow off in the
wind. It had a blue striped feather in the hat band. She wore a pair of brown
jeans and cowgirl boots. A leather belt with a broad buckle was around her
waist. That buckle was hard won, she'd gotten it when she had been eleven in
the planetary rodeo contest. A duster was over her shoulder, her saddle was in
the crate behind her. The crate was a rarity, it had an antigrav emitter in the
bottom to keep it floating, and it would follow the little transmitter on her
belt like a loyal dog. She thought of it as the perfect pet.
She'd planned to rent a horse when she'd gotten to the port, but
none had been available. She'd thought about taking the coach, but it was only
a three kilometer walk so she decided to save her credits and hoof it. Half way
there she was regretting her hard ass image. She was getting to old for this
horse shit she realized.
She had come in on Pelican, and good riddance to her. Pelican had
been an agonizingly slow trip after being on Io 11. They'd been in the lowest
bands of Alpha the entire trip, it had taken nearly eight months to get from
Proxima back to New Texas.
Pelican wasn't set up to run animals so she was glad when they'd
dropped her off, took on fuel and a few trinkets, and then moved on. Or they
were about to move on, the ship would be in orbit another week before they
finished taking on stores. Heaven help her if they changed their minds and took
on animals, she flat out refused to go. She'd had enough of the shaggy faces,
grubby hands, and hungry looks.
Despite her tough outlook on life, she shivered. She hadn't been
raped, hadn't been touched really, which made it better, and worse in some
ways. Since all the males knew she wasn't seeing anyone on the ship they had
all taken a turn to hit on her every chance they could. She didn't mind the
occasional roll in the hay, but only on
her
terms. Usually with someone
who'd
heard
of a shower. She'd kept to her cabin as much as possible,
but even a rowdy girl like her needed to eat and socialize. A few moments in
the mess with the unshaven, stinky spacers had cured her of her interest in the
opposite sex.
They'd supposedly picked up some speed on the trip, though she
couldn't see it. She'd been spoiled by her time on Io 11, she had to admit, it
had been quite the experience. She would always be comparing that ship to any
other she flew on now. Pelican was a death trap despite what the admiral had
done for it. She'd heard the grumbling, heard a few had regretted letting him
return to Io 11. She wasn't sure how they could have held him, but in some way
she had wished they had. He might have been able to have done something in
engineering, the crew couldn't get out of its' own way to do so on their own.
She was used to the make do or do without mentality many spacers
and colonists had. She'd had it all her life after all, you did what you could
with what you had. But you didn't just give up either. You kept working at it
if it didn't quite work the way you wanted it. Find a go around was a famous
spacer saying in some circles, as was do without. She'd learned that as a
cowgirl growing up.
An hour and a half after she'd set out, she'd almost surprised
herself as she passed the city limits sign and entered the outskirts of town.
She stalked through the town, nodding to folk in passing, but mainly keeping
her head down as she headed to her favorite hotel. It was coincidentally the
closest one to the port.
She'd gratefully dropped her gear on the wood floor inside, and
nodded to the desk clerk. The old woman knew her. She tossed her a key. “Thank
you kindly,” Annie said, and then coughed.
“Road dust. Get's you every time Annie, I don't see why you don't
take the coach like everyone else,” Esmay teased, fluttering herself with a
feathered fan.
Annie shrugged, rolling her shoulders. Esmay snorted. “I'll have
Jake draw you a bath. Get along gal,” she said, waving a hand.
“I thank you kindly,” Annie said again, tipping her hat to the
proprietress.
“I'll have Jake bring something up to cut the road dust too,”
Esmay said with a small smile. “Welcome home Annie,” she said.
Annie nodded again and headed to her room. She knew Jake would
bring her bags and saddle to her later.
...*...*...*...*...
The next day Annie wandered around Freeport, hands in her pockets,
checking things out. She wasn't a tourist, she had been born on New Texas. It
hadn't changed in her forty plus years of playing space rancher, each time she
left she expected something or other to change. Oh sure the faces changed, but
the feel didn't. People came and went, they died, sometimes a fire would
destroy part of the town, but it would be rebuilt, stubbornly like it had been
before. Wooden buildings right out of some ancient western film. She hadn't
understood the reference until she'd become a space wrangler. Her homeworld
clung to its roots, stubborn seemed a part of life.
There was no work at this time since it was spring. She rested her
foot on the bottom rail of the fencing around the empty stockyards. Hectares of
fencing, a maze of sorting chutes all coming from the entrances at the edge of
town, all but one with a final destination, the slaughter houses and processing
plants. She turned her head and spat, feeling the spring wind ruffle her curly
bangs. She closed her eyes, ignoring the scent of drying bull pucky. Kids were
out there with wheel barrows, picking through the manure like connoisseurs.
Everything about the animals was used, little wasted. The manure
was being gathered up, dried it was sold to the ranch hands for fuel for their
fires out on the plains. Wet it was sold to the local farms for fertilizer. The
hides went into the leather industry. Leather was a big thing here on New
Texas, one of the Major exports too. The offal was used, some of the guts dried
and used as guitar string.
The meat... some of it went to the barbeques, but a lot of it was
dried into jerky. They had electricity, but no one had bothered to invest in
such frills as refrigeration. If you wanted something kept cold you shipped it
to the mountains or to the poles. Otherwise it was salted.
She'd worked briefly in the plants. That wasn't a job for her, you
had to be young and stupid to take such a job and keep it. Belts whirling
about, sharp knives. She suppressed a shiver as the memory of her time there
washed over her. No, she'd seen a kid decapitated by a loose belt. She'd quit
the next day and hadn't ever regretted it. Besides, the slaughter houses were
dead anyway. Harvest time in the fall was where the work was. For now the
spring culls would be handled in the field by the ranch. She could get a job
out on the range, but didn't want to be sleeping on cold earth at her age.
She turned, resting her elbows on an upper rail, leaning into the
fence. She was glad it wasn't electrified now. She heard the creak of a
windmill near and turned to glance at it. It spun, gently turning in the light
breeze. She could hear the distant strumming of a banjo down the way. She
looked, an old gaffer was tuning it. Another pair were playing checkers with a
barrel as the table. One looked her way, spat, then pulled out a long neck and
took a long pull. She looked away then shaded her eyes to look at the sun, then
checked her tablet for the time.
She'd gotten soft, she thought, using her hat to brush dust off
her pants. She thought about going out, doing a job until another ship came in.
But ranches didn't hire temporaries around this time either. They were wary of
them, anyone not in the ranch was potential trouble. Eyes and ears of someone
else interested in rustling.
No, she didn't need to prove nothin to anyone, least of all
herself. She was getting soft, not stupid. And she wasn't stupid enough to work
in the brothel or waste what she'd scrimped and saved in the bars waiting for
something to come up. No, she'd damn well find something here, despite her
pride. Sweeping floors or waiting tables if need be. She turned, set herself
and then headed back into town.
...*...*...*...*...
When she was turned down by the storefronts, Annie put in for work
with Wario and other ranch hand chiefs. Most of the ranchers snubbed her right
off, slamming the door in her face. Those that had some manners told her
nothing was available
before
the door was shut.
She'd expected as much, no one wanted to hire a temporary hand who
was going to ride off when the next ship came in. She didn't hold any ill will
towards them, though it was a bit annoying. She sighed, brushing dust off her
legs before walking on.
...*...*...*...*...
Two weeks of fruitless searching and Annie was desperate for work.
Her savings were getting down there. Which made for a fortuitous coincidence, a
ship was said to be entering orbit. She heard about it in the local bar and
practically dragged as much information out of the off duty port communications
tech as she could. She'd had to bribe the bastard with a free beer in order to
get his lips open to start talking. He'd joked about the talking being thirsty work.
