Chapter 160: [ Book 2 ] Chapter 20: Docking Procedures

Aurora Station loomed ahead, a gray-white cylinder forming in the blackness. Faint dots of light slid to and from the station; ships on approach or departure vectors. The plume of a departing ship flashed beyond the station, another hauler setting off for the channel.

Dash sat in his captain’s chair, observing the dozens of ship icons in the relative vicinity. Most were haulers of various sizes, the rest a motley collection; tugs towing barges, small passenger shuttles, and an older model yacht. Gaius manned his pilot’s station while Wesley sat in the systems chair. The medtech scrolled through the default interfaces assigned to the station. Engine status, power core, comms, life support. He paused to ask Dash the occasional question, the kid's mind a black hole on a quest to absorb all knowledge.

The passengers had retreated to their quarters after their last session rehearsing in the cargo bay. He was glad about it. He didn’t need any distractions while docking. The trip from Sanctum to Aurora had been enough of a hassle. Fixing the lift hatch on deck B sucked up too much of his time. Then, the damn singers dared to confiscate his bot as their stage crew.

He reminded himself about the easy payday to override the growing regret of agreeing to the arrangement in the first place. At least it would all be over in a matter of hours.

The Stardancer closed in, the station growing larger in the aft cam stream as a distance counter ticked down on the side of the bridge display. The engines fired on low, slowing the ship down enough that maneuvering thrusters could handle the rest.

Aurora rotated gracefully, the local star’s rays reflecting off the light-colored exterior. Spindly arms stuck out from the outer hull, saddled with cargo containers like the branches of a fruit-bearing bush. Gaping maws of full interior bays dotted the hull, their shiplocks beckoning for a freighter's pairing. Airlocks lined the top and bottom of the station to handle visitations. With the only cargo being three Pree, the Stardancer would dock at one of the airlocks, assuming they could find an open one.

“Of course, there's a line,” Dash said. He sipped a stim brew from his mug as he swiped through updated commercial sector reports from the station’s hub. He had offered a taste to Wesley, but the medtech preferred his homemade teas.

“At least we don't need a berth. The airlock queue is much shorter," Gaius said over his shoulder. He shifted back and forth in his seat as he listened to music only he could hear through his PD interface.

“Lady Starlight, I presume?” Wesley asked.

“You bet. Going to rat me out to your girlfriend?”

Dash pivoted enough to catch Wesley's reaction. His face scrunched in indignation. Enough where Dash thought the comment hit close to home. “As I've already said before, Sister Ruki and I have a mutual bonding over tea. Any suggestion otherwise is absurd and childish, I might add.”

Gaius threw a sidelong glance at Dash and made a noise halfway between a grunt and a cackle. “If you say so.”

“Captain, is this level of activity abnormal?” Wesley asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

Dash pulled up the historical docking data from the station's infohub and sent it to Wesley's chair. “Very. With all the recent political turmoil, there's more red tape. That plays hell with every distribution route in the system.”

The Stardancer was close enough now that the drones of the loading operations were visible zooming about like insects. They loaded cargo, delivered parts, collected waste containers. The seeming randomness and chaos took on a symphony of precision upon closer inspection.

“I read in the local haulers’ hub that they do good maintenance work here,” Dash said.

“And I read the pubs are great. Do you think the singers can get us a contract here?” Gaius said.

“Even if they could, I'm now questioning whether that's a good idea. I saw rumors that if the charter is nullified, then the Pree government will require relicensing. Without an inside connection, we'd be out of luck.”

A comms request from Aurora Control flashed on the bridge display. “About time,” Dash grumbled. He tapped his chair panel to accept.

“Stardancer, state your manifest and port of departure,” said a wavering voice, pitching higher every few words. The speaker was a young man who couldn’t have been a few months out of trade school for commercial operations controller.

“That’s an odd request,” Gaius said.

“Why’s that?” Wesley asked.

“We have a valid Commonwealth-approved operating license. We don’t need to state the rest. Not like we’re hiding anything anyway,” Dash said and shot Wesley a thin smile. The medtech's face went taunt, no doubt at the reminder of his wanted status by House Nemotaurian

Dash unmuted the comm. “Aurora Control, you have our license. Please assign us to the visitation queue. We’re not looking for a berth right now.”

“Stardancer, repeat, state your manifest and departure port.”

Gaius shot Dash a concerned look. Dash muted the comm and waved a reassuring hand. “Don’t worry. The kid doesn’t know what he’s doing.” He unmuted the comm again. “Aurora Control, per Commonwealth Commerce regulations, I’m not required to provide you that information,”

“Stardancer, repeat the last request or, Commonwealth Commerce regulations, you will be denied permission to dock.”

A heavy frown weighed on Dash’s face. “I want to speak to your duty officer.”

“The duty officer is unavailable at the moment,” Aurora Control replied after a slight hesitation that gave Dash the impression the duty officer was sitting right next to his subordinate and waving off the request.

Dash leaned forward in his chair, pointing a finger at the comm icon as if he were lecturing Aurora Control right across from him. “Control, I’ve been a hauler since before you popped out of your mama. Don’t lecture me on how the Lorddamn regulations work. Now, get your duty officer on the comm before I file a complaint with the commercial licensing board and get your punk ass sent back to trade school for remedial courses.”

He muted the comm and crossed his arms. “Chew on that, smartass.”

“Hold one, Stardancer,” came the reply.

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“That showed him, Cap,” Gaius said.

“Sometimes you just have to push back on the bureaucracy,” Dash said.

“Stardancer, this is Aurora Control Duty Officer. Switching the comm to video, so I can see the face of the man whose ass I’m about to thoroughly chew out.”

Dash sat forward as the visual connection initialized. A haggard face came into focus. A bushy white beard covered the jawline, a thinning buzz cut on the top. The heavy brow and lean bone structure were that of an older Manore, offshoots of Humanity. His hostile stare fixated on Dash through the comm like they were squaring off at a pub.

“Stardancer, you’re speaking with the operations supervisor. Now, let me tell you how this is going to work, you shit-spewing little … wait. Is that you, Dash?”

Familiarity swept up Dash’s spine. “Fraenk?” he said. Speaking the words affirmed his intuition. “I didn’t recognize you with the beard. It’s been a long time.”

The bearded Manore returned a warm smile as he ran his hand over his jaw. “It has, my friend. How’ve you been?”

“Same as everyone else nowadays.”

Fraenk shook his head. He was the first mate on the ship Dash served on straight out of trade school. Fraenk left the shipping side for the operations side, and they’d crossed paths on occasion ever since. “It’s a mess out there. Sorry about the kid, but he’s right. I’m going to need that info.”

“Fraenk, what the hell is going on? That’s not in the standards.”

Fraenk gave a sympathetic smirk.

“I know. Emergency powers have been enacted. With all the political turmoil on Preemona, there’s an increased focus on security. The last thing anyone needs is an uprising, or Lords forbid, a civil war. We’ve already confiscated a few haulers loaded with bang bang sticks, and other goodies, if you know what I mean.”

Revolutions and arms smuggling. Dash dipped his toes in that with Boran back in the day. Doing that sort of work was like gambling; stick around long enough and the house always wins. Dash got his fill and left it behind with a small pile of creds and all his limbs intact.

“This is not going to go over well,” Dash said.

Another sympathetic look from Fraenk. “You don’t have to tell me. You’re the seventh old friend I’ve come across in a cycle. You were also the nicest to the kid before I had to step in.”

“I try not to get too angry anymore,” Dash said, and tapped on his chest. “Not good for heart and mind.”

Fraenk gave Dash a stare that said, I’m a busy man, enough with the chatter, time to pay up.

“Okay, Fraenk, I’ll tell you what you need. We came from Atan. Trouble started to brew there, so I figured it was time to move on.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Atan, huh? Were you there for the yacht incident?”

Dash nodded. “Saw it live. It was a mess. We’ve got no contract at the moment. Looking to find something here.”

“I understand. Well, good luck with that. There’s a lot of work here, but also a lot of red tape. The Pree government is throwing their weight around ahead of the charter vote to make people think they know what the hell they're doing.”

“Is it working?”

“Fuck no. Take a look around. Everything’s running hot with how pissed off people are.”

“Good to know, Fraenk.”

A docking approval notification appeared on the main display. “You’re cleared for airlock fifteen. Ping me when you’re aboard, and we’ll grab a drink once my shift ends.”

“Will do. See you soon,” Dash said and closed the comm. “Take us in,” he said to Gaius.

The pilot tapped on his chair panel. The station swung out of the view of the aft cams as the ship reoriented itself for docking.

“Thank the Lords you knew the supervisor,” Wesley said.

“You'd be surprised how often comm arguments break out,” Dash said. “I've only gotten into a confrontation a few times. Terminus station being one of them.”

“That wasn't a confrontation. You rammed your way out of the station—”

Dash shushed the medtech. He opened the ship’s comm and raised a mocking eyebrow at Wesley. “All hands, prepare for docking. Please refrain from any acrobatics.”

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