Back From the Dead (33 page)

“I monitor the environment. All sounds picked up by communications devices are broadcast.”

“But they only broadcast when we send. And what about encryption?”

“They broadcast on a frequency I can detect, if they are properly asked to do so. All forms of encryption observed so far have been primitive and of negligible effect.” Lag and Stenson look at each another in dismay. Lag points to his wrist com with a question on his face. “Two point four seconds when you first came aboard. Information is only utilized for the efficient operation of the ship. It is likely secure from outside. An upgrade is recommended for security and encryption protocols.”

“Um, yes, that would seem to be called for,” Stenson says dryly. “Thank you for the advice. And that explains Nerona’s broadcast.”

The Ship AI speaks through all their com units. “Affirmative.”

“So, can you tell us what
anyone
here is saying?” Helton asks cautiously.

Only through Helton’s com unit: “Negative.”

“But you just said–”

The Ship AI interrupts Lag, speaking only through his com unit. “That would violate their privacy.”

“But
you
can hear them?” Helton asks. Silence. “Guess I didn’t ask
exactly
the right question after Nerona left.”

This is all over Quinn’s head. “Can we get some tanks?” he asks.

Helton chuckles and grins at him, ruffling his hair. “Not right now. A hundred tons apiece, plus the ammo, would be a very heavy load. Maybe later, if we find some on sale.”

The crew of
Tajemnica
sit on the crowded veranda at the Alvarez ranch, in the fading red light of sunset, relaxing after a long day.

“You should have been there.” Kaminski says. “She just barely lost to the guy who came in third. But still, ninth in a field of almost a hundred on her very first pin shoot is outstanding.”

Victor Alvarez rocks comfortably in his chair. “Yes, I heard about it. She made quite an impression on a lot of folks, especially the young men. She’s got a home here for sure if she wanted to move. Even managed to make friends with some of the younger ladies, who are normally a bit, ah, defensive, around competition.”

“I heard nothing but good things about her,” Mrs. Alvarez agrees. “About any of you.”

“I followed Kat’s three rules, and didn’t have any problems. Just being myself, really. I had an excellent teacher, and the Saint Browning is really easy to shoot.”

“Well, keep being yourself, please!” Helton says.

“Lots of good recruit material here, and interest, too.” Harbin sips from his glass. “Smart, fit, confident, eager to learn. Also discovered the heavy grav-tank attachments. A very useful stop to make.”

“Supplies for onboard, profitable goods we can easily move, contacts for future supplies and possible cargo. And,” Bipasha teases Kaushik, “some very handsome young men.” He raises an eyebrow and gives her a sidelong look of disapproval.

Mr. Alvarez smiles. “Word will spread. If you come back, expect to be swamped with even more volunteers than you have now, and more suppliers. Seeing Jorge from time to time would be good.”

Helton tips back in his chair. “We might just do that. We might just.” He takes a sip, and stares off into the brilliant colors of the sunset, enjoying the silence, the companionship, and the view.

TRANSPORTATION JOB

Reunion

Allonia and Helton chat in the garden room. The light panels are bright, and there are many racks of trays full of lush deep green plants: lettuce, melons, tomatoes, a few compact blueberry bushes, and a lot of less easily identifiable greenery. Some trays are hydroponic, others are filled with dirt.

“I don’t know what that one is,” Allonia says. “The container only had a picture, but no other label. Seems to grow very fast, so I assume it is mostly for scrubbing carbon dioxide.”

“And that?”

“Have a smell.”

Helton picks a leaf, rubs it between his fingers, and inhales deeply. “Ah, mint. Where are all these from?”

“Big cabinet over in the corner full of trays full of seed. Most aren’t labeled. Some are obvious, others I don’t have a clue what they are. It was locked when I moved in last year, and then it clicked open three months ago.”

“More fresh herbs to go with all that thin-sliced fresh meat, Kwon will be in heaven! I better start working out more with Harbin.” Allonia gives him a puzzled look. “Turns out a side of beef or a hog is a perfect training aid to get the young men to really understand the value of a razor-sharp, highly polished blade, and precision placement.”

Allonia looks dubious. “He’s having the recruits carve it up?”

“Sort of. They kept wanting to try to muscle their swings and thrusts. He had an inspired idea.”

“A platoon of recruits swinging swords in the galley doesn’t sound very inspired, unless he’s helping train medics.”

Sar’s voice comes in over the PA system. “Helton, there’s someone here to see you about the pilot position.”

“Tell ’em it’s been filled.”

“I did, but she’s quite insistent.”

“We have a pilot.”

“I told her. She says she didn’t come this far to be turned away at the ramp.”

Helton looks at Allonia, shrugs. She clips a few sprigs and says, “Can’t hurt to talk to her.”

“Says she learned to fly on Taj.” Sar adds.

“That can’t be right.” Helton says. “Unless there is something else we don’t know.”

“Talk to her,” Allonia advises. “See if her story checks out. I’ll drop in on you, let you know what sort of vibe I get.”

Sar stands on the bow cargo bay ramp chatting with a tall blonde woman in her early thirties. She’s slender and angular, wearing a simple tailored blue uniform with gold, silver, and red accents. Her hair is cut in a short, low-maintenance style. By her side is a small travel bag.

Helton walks down the loading ramp, and she shifts her eyes to him, and sticks out her hand in greeting. “Quiritis Rudel, Pilot.”

“Helton Strom, owner and captain of
Tajemnica
.”

“I can’t believe someone finally got her flying! She looks beautiful!”

“Thanks. We think so,” Helton says. Then politely and apologetically, “Sorry to tell you, but like Sar said, we have a pilot.”

“I saw your advert for a pilot when I got back from a long survey flight and got here as soon as I could. I had to come. I learned to fly on her.” She runs her eyes over the ship, smiling happily.

“
Tajemnica
hadn’t flown in more than a century before we got her off the ground,” Helton says, looking at her intently.

“Oh, and I’m so
glad
that you did. I never thought I’d see her move!” Helton looks at her skeptically. Quiritis’s eyes return to Helton and she reads his expression correctly. “My parents owned her for four years, nearly twenty years ago, trying to fix her up,” she explains. “They went bust like everyone else who tried. They had big plans but not enough money, connections, or skill.

“I used to sit in the pilot seat for hours in simulator mode. Taj taught me, starting with the basics and running though everything she could throw at me. Stellar navigation, transitions, ground-attack, ship-to-ship, damage control. We went
everywhere
together, visiting every known terraformed system from her last data, and even ones she made up with Planet Movers.

“Made pilot training at the academy almost boring. You can control everything on
Tajemnica
if you want, and she always demanded I did, as soon as I could. She was very particular about her checklists. All the newer ships are dummy-proofed to the point of being barely usable and not much fun. Flying landing shuttles and survey ships pays the bills, but…”

“Sounds like a heck of a childhood.”

“It was … interesting. You don’t really know what you have until you lose it.”

“I could show you around. Or should you show me?”

“I’d love to see how she’s cleaned up, but I have got to ask: What are
they
doing?”

Quiritis points at four lines of recruits standing in the cargo bay. There’s a side of beef or a dressed hog hanging from a chain hoist at the head of each line, and a plastic tarp underneath with a pile of meat pieces. Different pieces of steel armor are strapped onto each carcass: some plates, some squares of scale armor, some mail. Each recruit has a gleaming, polished sword or spear, and they are practicing spearing, thrusting, or slicing as thin a hunk of meat off as they can, under Harbin’s and Kaminski’s direction and critique.

Recruits with poles hooked onto the sides of meat move them, jerking them around and spinning them, trying to trap the blades. The attackers try to land blows and clear their weapons as fast as possible. Sometimes it works well; other times a twisting side of meat gets a poorly-used weapon jammed and then the recruit has a heck of a time trying to get it withdrawn. After a clean attack or two and a strip of meat is shaved off into the pile below, the recruit goes to the back of the line.

“In and out FAST!” Harbin calls. “Clear for another thrust instantly, or you are as good as unarmed. GOOD! Good! NO, a thousand times NO! Don’t muscle it! Precision, gentlemen, fast and clean, in and BACK OUT! Don’t just stand there looking at that great cut; riposte and do it AGAIN!”

Kaminski coaches his recruits: “THAT’S right, next to the armor! Not into it! Shiny things STOP your point, meat doesn’t! PULL BACK! PULL! Engage and disengage as fast as you can, don’t give your opponent an opening by leaving a hand out there to get cut!”

One recruit takes a particularly ineffective poke at a hog, and his spear gets jammed between armor and bone. He’s pushed around by the pole-man moving the target, and the spear falls from his hands as he tries to readjust. Harbin shakes his head. “THAT’S about as useless as beanbags in a firefight! You CANNOT lose your weapon! Draw your secondary and GET THAT SPEAR BACK!” The recruit draws his sword and hacks at the carcass. The lost spear falls free and clatters to the deck. He picks it up and shamefacedly walks toward the back of the line as the rest of the recruits laugh good-naturedly.

“An inspired training idea,” Helton answers Quiritis. “Our cooks didn’t like the idea of butchering a hundred sides themselves, and Harbin was looking for a better way to teach the kids to use speed and accuracy to get around armor. They’re competing to make the biggest pile with the thinnest strips and smallest pieces in a set time, squad against squad.”

“Okay. Weird, but okay. So, why on a starship?”

“Long story, but the rent it pays is good, and they provide us no end of entertainment,” Helton says. “Care to see a fully functional bridge?”

Quiritis smiles broadly. “Yes, very much, please.”

Helton leads the way into the bridge, stepping into the command station, but Quiritis stops at the hatchway, looking around, entranced. “Just how I remember her,” she says quietly. She walks slowly to the pilot position, running her hands over the well-worn curves of the command consoles as she goes, looking at them, reliving old memories. Helton watches her closely. She stands at the pilot station a moment, touching the controls. “I used to have to stand on a crate to reach these. I didn’t want to use the seat. The top row was frustrating because I had to really stretch.” She reaches out reverently and runs her hand along one side of the console, then across the top.

Allonia steps in through the door and walks silently up beside Helton, eyes on Quiritis. She raises a questioning eyebrow at Helton, but he has a noncommittal expression. Quiritis takes a breath, closes her eyes, and reaches out her hands to various controls, finding them easily, her smile growing with each contact. She turns abruptly to say something to Helton, sees Allonia, and startles slightly as she comes back into reality. Both women speak at the same time.

“Alli?”

“Quiri?”

Their faces light up in surprised delight, and they embrace.

“OhMyGOD you’re all grown UP and you’re HERE and just LOOK at you and–”

“It’s been so LONG and just LOOK at you and WHAT have you been DOING and–”

“What are YOU doing here and HOW is just EVERYTHING and I came looking for a piloting job–”

“CAN you believe we got her FLYING and she’s a GREAT ship and I’m SURE he’ll want to hire you and–”

“And just WOW.”

They pause for a breath and another hug, and Helton says, “I take it you two have met.”

“She used to watch me when I was Quinn’s age! We used to play here together!”

“Our parents knew each other,” Quiritis says. “For part of the time I was living aboard I made a little money babysitting Alli.”

“So, you are going to hire her, right, Helton?”

“Well, uh, we do have a pilot, and I thought a medic was next on the list.”

“But we need a second good pilot! I mean, at the rate we keep taking ships–”

“You got her rearmed?” Quiritis asks.

“Well,” Helton pauses awkwardly. “Not exactly, and that’s another long story. But, sorta, yeah, we could use a spare pilot. Might simplify some things.”

“You’re not armed, but you’re taking ships?” Quiritis looks at them suspiciously. “You aren’t pirates, are you?” Allonia and Helton burst out laughing.

“Oh, God no! Mostly we take … well, like Helton said, it’s complicated. But no, we are not doing anything illegal. Not immoral, anyway. Mostly. Besides, do you think
Tajemnica
would let bad people fly her?”

“Taj?” Quiritis asks.

“Hello, Quiri,” the Ship AI says in a gentle male voice. “Your training has not been wasted?”

“Very well used, thank you. A master teacher, you are. Are they telling the truth?”

“Yes. Their path here is complicated, but ethical.”

Her face brightens. “It’s so good to hear you again! I have so much to tell you!”

“I would be happy to listen, Quiri, but first you and the Captain have much to talk about.”

Allonia, Helton, Cooper, and Quiritis sit at the Officers’ Mess table with a water carafe and glasses. Helton is even more animated than usual.

Helton
: Proper parts have been a royal pain to get. A lot of stuff is very nonstandard.