Haywire, page 2
Shawn gave him a skeptical glance, shrugged, and let it go. If the guy wanted to suffer, so be it. It wasn’t his job to take care of anyone but himself, and that was hard enough.
“Yeah, I love music. Been playing since I was a kid. Me and some friends formed a band about a year ago, called Mother Dark. Early on all we could play were birthday parties and whatnot, but lately we’ve been hitting some actual stages. I mean real stages, man, like The Zeitgeist where Pearls Before Swine got their start. You’ve heard of them, right? Once our demo file gets in the right hands... we’re going to hit the big time. I just know it.”
“Your parents must be proud.”
Shawn nodded, but the corners of his mouth puckered like he’d bitten into something sour. “My dad and step-mom are, but I doubt my mother gives a crap. All she cares about is her museum. Put me and some dusty old Titan artifact in a room, and I can guarantee you which one she’d fawn over more.”
The passenger’s laugh was a bit too forced and sharp. “Ah, I’m sure that’s not true.”
“You have no idea.” Shawn looked down at his lap and fiddled with a hole in his jeans. “It’s all she thinks about, night and day. Dr. Groesbeck this and Titans that. It’s why they got divorced.”
The passenger unclenched a hand and patted Shawn’s arm. It would have been a nice gesture if not for his clammy skin. “I doubt it was as simple as that. Divorces rarely are, trust me. I’ve been there. And I’m sure that – despite what you think – your mother loves you. Some people are just bad at showing it.”
Shawn opened his mouth to reply, but the ding of the FASTEN SEAT BELT sign cut him off. A moment later a flight attendant leaned over his snoring neighbor, her dark blue uniform revealing enough to hint at a nice figure but demure enough to chide him for thinking about it. She shook the sleeper, but he resisted her efforts. Not taking no for an answer, she grabbed his shoulder and shook him hard enough to rattle his seat. Seconds later he was awake and sitting upright. The scowl on his large, sleep-reddened face was more than matched by her self-satisfied smirk.
Glancing past his nervous neighbor, Shawn saw a hint of Callisto’s grim lunar surface through the window. In the distance hung Jupiter, its roiling bands of clouds a beautiful counterpoint to Callisto’s rocky, frozen face.
“Good evening, passengers of BlueShift flight 1121,” a voice said in deep, rich tones through overhead speakers. “This is Captain Eisen speaking. We are currently on approach to Arcadia Spaceport and have been given permission to land. Please remain in your seats, and make sure that all unshielded electronic devices are turned off. Local time is 5:35 in the evening. It has been a pleasure flying with you today, and on behalf of everyone at BlueShift Spaceways, we hope you have a wonderful day.”
Shawn half dozed while waiting for the shuttle to land, his eyes barely fluttering as the ship rocked and rumbled to a heavy landing. When the hatch finally opened he got up, grabbed his backpack from beneath his seat, said goodbye to the passenger on his right, and walked down the enclosed gangway that led to the inner terminal.
Gravity was light over the landing pad, but as he got closer to the spinning superconductors buried deep in the ice beneath Arcadia the gravity increased to a single Earth-standard gee. That was typical for habitats across the solar system, or at least for those that could afford to install and power the massive gyrating machines.
Arcadia Spaceport was small, making the walk to the baggage collection area short and easy. The other passengers from the shuttle shuffled their way over while he stood waiting for the conveyor belt to activate. The only person who looked excited to be there was a little girl dressed in a bright yellow jumper, her soft brown hair tied into pig tails with pink ribbons. She held her parents’ hands tightly, and they swung her up and down with absentminded motions. On their chests were patches bearing the logo of Acqua Industries, the largest ice mining company on Callisto. The patches looked new, as did the uniforms they were stitched to. He figured them for new hires just shipping in.
He smiled as he watched the child gaze around in wonder. In her eyes everything probably seemed magical and made just for her. It would be years before she’d realize she’d been relegated to a dead end moon that once had been important but was now just a shadow clinging to a distant memory. He’d get to leave in a couple of weeks, but she might be stuck there the rest of her life. A shiver went up his back at the thought of it.
The brief thought of home reminded him of his mobile comm. He’d had to keep it powered off during the flight from Mars, but now he was free to use it, so he reached into his backpack and withdrew a pair of tinted glasses. They activated as they settled on his face and established a connection with the local communications network. A second later an icon shaped like a stylized eye appeared in the upper right corner of his vision with the number “1” next to it. There was a video message waiting.
“Play message,” he said, his words just loud enough for the mobile comm to hear him.
The floating image of Ilona, his girlfriend, appeared on the inside of his glasses. The shadowy wonder of her almond-shaped eyes was lost in the recorded transmission, but nothing could diminish her full lips and the angelic roundness of her face. Pain lanced through his chest at remembering how long he would be separated from her.
“Hey, baby.” She tilted her head to the right like she always did when leaving a message. It was a cute look for her, and she knew it. “I just checked your flight, and it looks like you’re about to take off, which means you won’t get this until after you land. I just wanted to say that I love you, I already miss you, and every hour you’re gone is going to suck more and more. But, I do have some good news that I think will cheer you up, though it might also make the wait to get back even harder.”
Ilona’s eyes sparkled like an imp that had found a new devilish delight. She loved surprises. Shawn was more a creature of habit, routine, but she always looked for ways to shake him up, and more often than not she succeeded. In spite of that, or maybe even because of it, he loved her.
“Honey baby, you’re not going to believe this, but we are going to be playing at Minerva’s Den.”
The bottom of Shawn’s stomach dropped out, and he leaned against a wall to stop from falling on his butt. She had to be joking.
“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not joking.” Her face beamed with pride. “The guys in their booking office finally listened to our demo file, and they want Mother Dark to play. We won’t be headlining, but still. Originally they wanted us to play this weekend because a band dropped out – Gutter Child, I think – but I told them you were out of town for a couple of weeks, so they scheduled us in the next open slot they had. That day also just happens to be the same day you come back. I hope that won’t be an inconvenience.”
Annoyance and joy ran through Shawn’s mind in equal amounts. He couldn’t believe their band had finally gotten a shot at playing on a stage as big as Minerva’s Den, but the fact that visiting his mom meant putting that off took some of the shine off the news.
Ilona’s eyes narrowed, and her plump lips screwed into a smirk, knowing what he’d be thinking before he did. “Please don’t use this as another reason to hate on your mom. We’re not playing there as quickly as we could have, but we’re still going to be playing. Besides, look at the bright side – we get a couple more weeks to practice. I’m sure your mom won’t mind if you take a few hours here and there to link up with us. Don’t look at how wrong things are, and look at what’s right.”
She was correct, of course, and his love for her grew a little more. He didn’t need to be positive when her positivity was enough for them both. He worried sometimes that his darker view on life would eventually drive her away, but whenever he said that she shook her head and told him that taking up his happy slack meant she got to be twice as cheerful, then she’d shut him up with a kiss. All things considered, he knew he was lucky.
“Anyway, I better go. Call me when you get settled at your mom’s. I know you don’t want to be there, but try not to give her a hard time. This hasn’t been easy on anyone, including her. So get going, have fun, and be the good boy I know you are. I love you.”
The message closed with a brief burst of static, and a small bit of his happiness died when her image faded from view. They’d only been dating for a year, but she felt as much a part of him as his own hands, his lungs, his heart. He knew his parents didn’t believe the depth of his feelings for her – he could see the shadows of smirks when he talked about her – but he knew how he felt. Ilona was the woman he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. The fact that she could also sing like an angel was just the cherry on top.
Horns bolted to the ceiling above the baggage conveyors blurted out a short series of warning sounds, and the belt rumbled into motion. As bags appeared, people stepped forward and dragged their luggage away. It took a couple of minutes, but his eyes lit up as a long, flat case rolled into view. He grabbed it with greedy fingers when it came within reach.
The case didn’t look too worse for wear. After unlocking the combination latch he held his breath and lifted the lid. Inside, his guitar sat cradled in a molded velvet indention. The old-fashioned effects pedals – and really, the only way to go so far as he was concerned – were still strapped into place, and his extra strings were snuggled in their pouch. He checked the body of the guitar for any signs of abuse or damage, but everything looked okay. The neck was still tightly connected to the body, the head and tuning pegs were intact, and the Pao Ferro fretboard was in perfect condition. Thankful that it had made the trip in one piece, he shut the case, locked it, and made his way to customs, the final barrier between him and two weeks with his mother.
Callisto was an American Alliance territory, and Shawn – being from Mars – was a citizen of the Eurasian Union. Relations between the two governments wasn’t the warmest it had ever been, but he’d never had any problems getting through customs before, and he didn’t expect it to be any different now. If something had blown up since he’d left Mars, he figured he would have heard about it by now.
A customs officer sat behind a grimy window like a frog, his plump body packed inside a metal booth he barely fit into. The gray and green uniform stretched across his lumpy physique was ill-fitting too, and as he reached for Shawn’s passport through an opening at the bottom of the window he looked out with dour eyes that drooped at the corners.
“What is your reason for traveling to Callisto?” The officer’s voice was monotone as he asked the question, which he probably repeated a hundred times a day. He barely looked up as he compared Shawn’s face to the image that appeared on his screen when the passport was inserted into a scanner.
“I’m visiting my mom.”
The officer sniffed wetly into the back of his throat and pressed a button on his computer screen. “And who’s your mother?” As he asked the question he glanced at his screens, ready to compare what Shawn said against what was in the system, making sure all responses matched the transit documents. Shawn had gone through the process dozens of times before, and it never varied.
“Doctor Alicia Campbell, director of the Groesbeck Museum.”
“And how long will you be staying on Callisto?”
“Too long.” The official glanced up and tossed him a ‘don’t screw with me’ look, so Shawn coughed and said, “Two weeks.”
“Have you brought any organic substances with you? Fruits, meats, nuts?”
“No.”
“Do you have anything else to declare?”
“Only that I can’t wait to go back home.”
The official withdrew Shawn’s passport from the scanner with a sigh, slapped a holographic stamp to one of its pages, and flicked it back under the window. “I can’t wait for you to go back home too, kid. You’re clear to enter Callisto. Next!”
Shawn gathered up his passport and tucked it into his pants pocket, looked at the doorway that led out of the spaceport, and wondered what was on the other side. Would she be there, a smile hammered into place and a hug he’d barely feel waiting for him, or would she do what she normally did and just send a driver to pick him up? Of the two options he didn’t know which he wanted more.
As he neared the exit, he changed his mind. The driver sounded better. At least then he wouldn’t have to endure her deficient mothering in public. Some things were just too much to bear.
Chapter Three
“Gimble, I know I said this before, but I think it bloody well bears repeating: they’re gaining on us!”
Alden Gimble snarled and pushed the throttle of his ship as far forward as it would go, clacking it against the metal stops. A weight pressed into his chest like the boot heel of God as the Lady Godiva rocketed forward. Bits of rock hurtled at him like cannon shot, but he knew the heavily mined asteroid belt offered better odds than those promised by the trio of pirate hunters chasing after them.
“Is that better?” he asked through gritted teeth. Beads of sweat tumbled down his hairless head to sting his eyes. He flinched, then wiped his face and forehead clear with a sleeve already damp from perspiration.
Next to him, his crewmate Gavin Crowe stared at radar screens with rapt attention, his large eyes consumed by the readings on the displays. Gimble and Crowe had been friends and crewmates for years, each of them saving the other’s life more times than either could count. Their friendship was one of the few things in Gimble’s life that he valued. Considering they were the sole crew of the Lady Godiva, it was fortunate they got along so well.
“If that’s all she’s got, we’re both in for a bad end, ‘cause those Alliance ships are not giving up, nor are they slowing down.” Crowe’s waxen face was pale in the light of his screens.
Gimble flicked his eyes down to the small screen near his right knee and saw what Crowe meant. “Goddamn them. Then our only option is to fight.”
Crowe snickered.”You’re mad.”
“What, you think the Lady can’t handle ‘em?”
“One ship? Without doubt. Two? Perhaps. Three? We’d be flotsam before we hit the belt’s outer markers.”
Irritation curled Gimble’s upper lip. “Then what, pray tell, would you suggest?”
Crowe turned to the screen on his left and pressed a button, expanding their map of the local asteroid field. Near the upper right corner a blinking blue dot came into view. He tapped the dot with a ragged fingernail, then gave Gimble’s shoulder an excited jostle. “There’s what I call a port in the storm. If you would, turn us softly to starboard and bring up our nose.”
“Would it be rude if I asked where we were going?”
Crowe turned and gave his friend a dark grin. “Vesta.”
A tingle of excitement lit up Gimble’s spine, and a dark sound rumbled in his throat that few would have recognized as the laugh it was. “Oh yes, that’ll do nicely.”
Gimble tilted his control stick and brought the ship around to a new heading. It took them deeper into the asteroid belt than he’d wanted to go, but Vesta was a busy little patch of space, and what better place to shake a hunter than to lose them in the crowd?
Soon small dots filled Crowe’s screens, each one a stray bit of rock and ice. Once upon a time, a person could have flown from Mars to Jupiter without fear of hitting a single pebble, but two centuries of frantic mining had changed all that. Some areas of the asteroid belt had been swept clear for commercial traffic, but large swaths of it were lousy with debris, and it took a skilled hand on the helm to navigate the wilds of it.
“My sky is getting sorely crowded.” Gimble steered around two spinning boulders that easily would have crushed the ship had he been a second slower in his actions. Pings rattled against the ship’s hull like rain when smaller rocks pelted her, but the Lady shrugged them off. Her titanium skin had suffered worse.
Crowe huffed and shook his head. “I take comfort in knowing that what’s bad for us is worse for them and their big ships.”
In total agreement, Gimble edged around a group of rocks and dodged past another near collision. Suddenly two small asteroids hurtled at them from their port side too fast to avoid, so he flicked the gun toggle on his stick and sent streams of super-heated plasma hurling into the spinning rocks, breaking them into pieces too small to damage the hull. Once they were through the debris cloud, a massive round shape came into view, its dark surface blotched with craters and hastily erected buildings. Gimble couldn’t remember being so happy to see something so ugly in his whole life.
“Ah, she is indeed a pretty sight, Crowe.”
Vesta’s colossal bulk dominated the space before them. At over five-hundred kilometers thick, it overshadowed everything around it. The only other object in the asteroid belt larger than it was Ceres, but Ceres was far away and no threat to its dominion.
Gimble watched a parade of lights float around the asteroid like flies buzzing over a fat carcass, each light a starship coming or going from dozens of mining sites littering the asteroid. “And how is the old girl? Busy this evening, I hope.”
Nodding, Crowe stared intently as his screens. Crowe did most things intently, and he took his job as navigator and radar operator with all the seriousness such a position demanded. “Plenty busy. Looks like a full load of ore is on its way out. That sort of traffic will muddy our wake nicely.”
Gimble steered the ship to port and pushed its nose downward, then glanced over at the screen near his right knee again. On it dozens of small dots streamed away from the mine opening closest to them, their flight path leading them to the Mars wormhole. A large metal ring surrounded the wormhole, its slow spin keeping the mouth of the conduit open. “Brilliant timing.”
Proximity alarms blared to sudden life, dousing the warming fire of his relief.
“Those bloody Alliance bastards made it through the rocks.” Crowe growled low in his throat and banged his hands against his displays.
Gimble’s thumb hovered over the afterburner button on the side of his throttle for a moment as he considered how far they were from Vesta, how much fuel they had, and how close the pirate hunters were on their aft. The math wasn’t in their favor no matter which way he looked at it. He snarled as he activated the afterburner. “Let’s see just how committed those buggers really are to this chase.”
