Wings of Steele- The Series, page 114
part #1 of Wings of Steele Series
“Nah,” waved Jack, “it's your ship, man. I'm just a guest.” He glanced over at the holo-chart hovering above the table. “So they had a set of beacons out of the Rikovik gate routing traffic around the danger in the system to a third gate?”
“Yep. We counted eight markers but I'm sure there were more beyond our sensor reach.”
“Pretty smart idea.”
“It is,” gestured Brian. “But it shows planning and preparation. Whoever set them up knew what was going on here.”
“Agreed.” There was a silence and Steele found himself staring at the shimmering hologram.
Brian spoke first. “So, Mercury huh? Quicksilver,” he whispered dramatically. “A highly toxic, amorphous liquid metal... some freaky symbolism there, Jack. Did you do that on purpose?”
Steele shrugged. “It's also in Greek mythology. Mercury was the Roman god of financial gain, commerce and communication. He also guided travelers, and more interestingly,” he rubbed his hands together in an evil gesture, “escorted souls to the underworld.”
Brian glanced, checking the time on his eGo-h. “Wasn't he the one with wings on his feet?”
Jack nodded, “That's the one. He needed them, he was a very busy god.”
“Man, that's kinda deep,” said Brian, cocking his head to one side. “But why did you have to call us the Raven? I've never really liked those birds, they always gave me the creeps.”
Jack took a couple swallows of water. “Well, the common consensus associates them with death. But American Indian mythology paints them as a harbinger of magic, being able to travel between light and dark, life and death. Able to exist in either plane. The Raven's also supposed to be able to bring communications back and forth from the living to the dead, from the divine to the earthly.”
Brian shook his head, “So traveling between light and dark, we really are the Raven then.” He shivered outwardly, “You just gave me the chills.”
“Suck it up buttercup, we need to look like serious badasses, here.”
■ ■ ■
“One minute to gate exit, Commander.”
“On my way,” confirmed Brian. “Looks like it's showtime, Jack.”
Jack swung his feet off the sofa and took a second to adjust, taking a deep breath. He touched the surface of his eGo-h, “TESS, please find Lisa Stone and call her to the bridge.”
“Certainly, Mr. Mercury,” she replied in a sultry voice.
“And thank you for remembering to use my new name...” he ran his fingers through his hair.
“Of course,” TESS replied, sweetly. “You only need to tell me once, I am not capable of forgetting.”
Brian pulled the water bottle away from his mouth in a bid to prevent water coming out of his nose. He was unsuccessful. “Oh snap,” he sputtered, wiping his face and pinching his nose. “Dammit, that hurt,” he winced. “Did she just burn you?”
“It appears so.”
“She's got attitude! How did that happen? Mine doesn't do that.”
Jack rose from his seat, Fritz rising with him, stretching like a cat. “I don't know,” muttered Jack, “just lucky I guess.”
■ ■ ■
Steele stood between Brian Carter in the Commander's seat and Raulya in the First Officer's seat, the entire crew dressed in civilian clothes of their own taste and choosing.
Fritz sitting by his side, Jack pointed Lisa to the second chair at tactical. “Do whatever Raulya tells you to do...” She moved without question, activating the screens at the station and tilting them to her liking.
Ahead of them, the splash of abstract color swirled in the center of the gate, undulating like liquid with a life of its own. “Entering gate corona,” announced Ragnaar.
“All battle stations manned?” asked Jack.
“Aye, all manned, cells charged, systems dark.”
Tendrils of color reached out and enveloped the ship as its bow neared the center, pushing though its surface. Punching through the other side, the colors spilled off the ship's hull like a whale breaching the ocean's surface, rivulets and droplets of light and color reaching outward like spray, only to fall back to the surface of the gate as if affected by gravity, recollected to an energy well.
“Five ships, Commander. They have us locked and tracking! Weapons are live!”
“Shields up, guns live...!”
“BELAY that order!” shouted Steele. “Stay the course, no deviations...”
Brian looked over his shoulder, “What are you doing, Jack?”
“You gotta walk in...”
“Like you own the joint,” nodded Brian, finishing Steele's sentence.
“These are probably the security guards checking IDs at the door,” explained Jack. He keyed his mic, “All hands, this is the bridge. I know we're all a little nervous, everybody just stay calm. Keep your eyes open and your systems dark.”
“Incoming comm. I believe it's coming from the destroyer.”
“On screen.” Steele stood with his feet apart and his arms folded, his jacket's fresh leather squeaking. “This is all yours Bri.”
“Gee thanks.”
A single video square winked into existence on the big screen, a thin man with greyish skin and blue-black hair. “Who are you and what is your purpose here?”
“Who's asking? said Brian, rising from his seat and stepping past Jack. “I like to know who I'm talking to.”
“Captain of the FreeRanger DD224. Now answer my question.”
“Commander Brian Carter, skipper of the Raven. We're here to pick up a load of parts and equipment.”
“Gunships closing in on either side, Jax,” whispered Lisa.
Jack nodded once, almost imperceptibly to indicate he'd heard her.
“We don't have any record of you or your ship in this sector before...”
Brian folded his arms defensively, mirroring Jack standing behind him. “There's always a first time, isn't there... Do you greet all your first time visitors this way?” There was a hint of aggression in his voice mixed with aggravation.
“Who did you say you were seeing?” asked the FreeRanger Captain, stoically, unmoved.
“I didn't,” countered Brian. “I didn't realize coming to this system for trade was restricted, I thought it was a free travel and free trade sector. Maybe we should take our business and money elsewhere.”
The FreeRanger Captain's mouth curled at the corners, a hint of evil. “We just like to know who we're doing business with...” An inquiry and side conversation momentarily took the Captain's attention away from the screen. When he turned back he leaned forward, eyeing Jack. “And who are you?” he pointed.
“Jax Mercury,” replied Jack. “I own this ship.”
“Why aren't you sitting in an office somewhere, mister owner?”
“I like to keep an eye on my investments...”
“You don't trust your captain and your crew?”
Jack unfolded his arms, clasping his hands casually behind him. “I trust them just fine. It's the people we deal with I have to watch.”
The destroyer's Captain roared with laughter, his head tilting back, revealing uneven, jagged teeth. “Who in hellion have you been trading with? Entertainment traffickers and Glacier dealers?”
“Oh, it's not the people we do business with, so much as it's the people we meet along the way... But I digress, I really couldn't discuss our business,” said Steele as politely as possible. “If it got back to our clients or our vendors it might be bad for business. I'm sure you understand.”
If the destroyer Captain noticed the intentional dig, he had no reaction. Turning away from the screen again, his side conversation lasting only a few seconds. He turned back, emotionless. “Enjoy your stay in Rikovik's Reef. Keep your nose clean.” The comm's video square winked out.
Steele looked around the bridge, “OK, what the hell was that?”
“They were just about up our ass,” commented Lisa.
“We were recording a low-yield scan,” offered Raulya. “I believe the gunships were doing a cargo scan. They pulled away about the same time he signed off.”
“What were they looking for?” asked Brian, returning to his command chair.
“Anything smuggled,” explained Ragnaar, “that they could confiscate, or tax you on to let you pass.”
“Hmm. A little grifting,” grumbled Jack.
“Bribery is a survival staple of the pirate world,” commented Ragnaar. “I'm sure the fact that the owner is on the ship, made them believe that it is a small operation not worth the effort. A larger outfit may have been worth more of a take.”
Steele nodded, “Good point.” He took a deep breath. “Stand down the crews. What's our time to Rikovik's planetoid?”
“We should make port in about two hours. Unless you want to jump.”
“No, let's not give anything away, two hours is fine.”
■ ■ ■
From space, Rikovik's Reef looked like a brown blob with spikes, dotted by lights and dirty neon... Upon closer inspection, it was much worse; a grimy brown asteroid, covered in cobbled black structures layered in red rust, covered in dilapidated lights and colored neon, probably scrounged from sign junkyards all over the star system. It looked like a decrepit ghost town, a place that hopes and dreams went to die. Die a long, agonizing death. “Such a happy and cheerful looking place,” quipped Jack sarcastically. “Like the stuff of nightmares.” He wasn't sure if the attempt at lighting and color made it look slightly more inviting or just more desperate. He was leaning toward desperate.
For Lisa, just the sight of the place made her stomach roll uncomfortably.
“The tower is requesting berthing preferences, skipper,” announced Ragnaar.
“What are the options?” asked Jack.
“Internal or external, sir.”
Jack and Brian exchanged glances. “Internal might be easier to load cargo if we're lucky enough to find what we need,” said Jack.
Brian nodded. “Makes sense. Internal, Mr. Ragnaar.”
After a brief exchange with the tower, a landing guide appeared on the big screen, displaying an approach pattern for the Raven, akin to stripes on a road, showing a traffic lane. Digital statistics and traffic information scrolled next to the approach overlay.
The grubby, desolate appearance of Rikovik's Reef was just that, an appearance. A false impression of her actual condition; which was a bustling urbanized planetoid... with a little frontier flavor. As they neared the cavernous opening the navigation aid was guiding them towards, they could see rows of windows in the rock face, whether they were offices or residences it was unclear. A train passed above them, the monorail following along the outside of the planetoid, disappearing into a tunnel, taking it inside the rock.
The Raven passed through the massive stasis field at the bottom half of the planetoid's waist, dwarfed by the open maw carved through the rock, before entering the interior spaceport of Rikovik's Reef.
“I think you'd be able to fit the Conquest in here,” whispered Jack.
“Sure looks like it,” agreed Brian. “My God, it goes all the way out through the other side.”
“Probably to accommodate the ore freighters when they were mining,” explained Ragnaar.
Ships of all types lined either side of the bay, the Raven was required to fit into a mooring space between two others. Alignment targets appeared on the screen as the traffic guide disappeared. At the helm, Quixetta maneuvered the ship gently into place, crabbing it sideways with maneuvering thrusters, maintaining her attitude. The alignment targets flashed green and he released the controls as docking clamps extended out to the Raven's hull. Two resounding kachunks reverberated throughout the hull, the floor moving slightly. “Clamps secure, we're in.”
■ ■ ■
Jack, Lisa, Draza Mac, Brian, Ragnaar and Raulya stood at the open hatch to the gangway double-checking last minute details. “Everyone stays armed,” ordered Jack. “And a full security detail here and on the ramp if we open for cargo.”
Brian nodded. “I got it. Don't worry, I'm not taking any chances. We'll keep the warmers managing the core temps. Just in case.”
Walking down the gangway to the dock, Jack, Lisa and Draza Mac set their TESS' to mark the location of the ship. Standing on the dock getting their bearings, the expanse of the interior spaceport only became more evident, ships moving through the interior past the Raven, past ships berthed on the opposite wall.
Offices above them carved into the rock of the planetoid, sealed with glass walls, stretched the length of the spaceport. Gantries reached across to the other side, moving cargo with cranes, material haulers moving back and forth along the docks.
“I feel so small,” muttered Lisa.
“Welcome to Rikovik's Reef,” greeted the man passing between them and the terminal doors. “Can I help you?”
“We're looking for parts...” offered Jack. The man was dark complected, the kind of color a man gets from years in the sun, his face lined and leathery.
The man scrunched his face in disbelief as he looked the Raven over, “She looks OK to me...”
“We're looking for parts for a client,” explained Jack, “not for her,” he motioned in the direction of the ship.
“There are several dealers here...”
“Who's the biggest?” asked Lisa.
“That would be Deep Black, young lady.” The man looked her over, considering her curves in the leather and fabric bodysuit. “Not the best side of the city though...” He pointed at the 1911 charged particle blaster hanging on her hip, “You know how to use that thing?”
“We'll be fine,” said Jack, cutting in. “How do we find this, Deep Black?”
The man pointed at the terminal doors, “Through these doors, up two levels to transport. You have several options; trains, cabbies, and slot trams. Unless you know the city well, I wouldn't recommend the trams. You need to go to the Peninsula Sector... if you go too far you end up on the Island. Stay out of the Island.”
“What's the Island?” asked Lisa.
“Never you mind,” he shot back. “You stay out of that area! The Island is not a place for a girl like you.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” said Lisa defensively.
“People like you disappear on the Island,” growled the man, walking away. Worn and faded, the word Lawman reached across the back of his jacket, a large, equally faded, number 42 in a circle underneath it.
■ ■ ■
It was almost immediate upon leaving the terminal and stepping out onto the transport level. Lisa made a face, swallowing hard, tasting the metal in her mouth and at the back of her throat. “What the hell is that? It's disgusting.”
“Scrubbed air,” said Jack and Draza Mac almost simultaneously.
“Either ancient equipment or the filters need a serious flush,” explained Draza Mac. “Some areas may be better than others, depends on the age and upkeep.”
Jack motioned to one of the vehicles at the curb, the driver waving an acknowledgment. “Our ship's systems are far superior,” commented Jack.
“It's also why ships have gardens,” added Draza Mac, “they remove that taste.”
The side of the cab slid open wide, cutting off any further conversation on the topic. The driver motioning them in. “No bags?”
“No bags,” confirmed Jack, climbing in. “We need to go to Deep Black in the Peninsula.”
“I can take you most of the way,” said the driver, steering away from the terminal. The vehicle accelerated silently, floating on an antigravity cushion, heading for one of a series of tunnels in the far wall.
“What do you mean, most of the way?” asked Jack leaning forward.
“I do not go into the Peninsula that far. You can take a tram or walk the rest of the way, it won't be too far.”
“Well if it won't be too far, why won't you take us all the way?” asked Lisa.
“It is not a safe area...”
“And you want us to walk?” she growled.
“I thought it was the Island that was the dangerous area,” said Jack, cutting in.
“Oooh, yes. The Island is bad. Very bad. But the far end of the Peninsula is not much better.” The driver swung the vehicle into another tunnel, weaving through slower traffic, rock walls passing by in a blur.
“What makes those areas so bad?” Jack was trying to pinpoint the type of dangers involved in traversing those areas.
“The criminals,” shrugged the driver, oblivious to the benign banality of his reply.
“Specifically,” said Steele through clenched teeth, trying to keep the snarl out of his voice.
“Oh I really can't say...”
“Can't say or won't say?” hissed Steele, his ire rising. From the back seat he wasn't able to see enough of the man's face to get a reading of deceit or avoidance.
“I've probably said too much already...” whispered the driver, barely audible.
Steele sat back in the seat, contemplating who might be listening in on the conversation. And when he saw Lisa lean forward he tapped her on the knee and shook his head no, sweeping his eyes around the inside of the vehicle. She nodded curtly and sat back in silence.
Some areas of the inside of the planetoid were well lit, looking upscale and well traveled, others looked like residential areas and yet others like manufacturing and commercial areas. All-in-all, it seemed to represent a well-rounded society. They passed a well-lit and colorfully decorated bazaar, with open stores and booths on either side of the street. Crowds of people were milling about, venturing into the shops and strolling through the eateries. It was a quick glimpse but Steele's artificial eye recorded the image of two men standing on a corner talking, the word Lawman spanning the back of their jackets. One had a number 23 in the circle below it, the other had a number 54. The fact that they had the exact same build and height struck him as slightly odd. He was still reviewing that image a short time later when the vehicle pulled to the curb in a darker, less friendly looking area.
“This is as far as I can go,” the driver said cheerfully. “If you'll scan your ITC card,” Interstellar Trade Credits, “with the reader on the back of my seat, we'll be all set.”
