Chapter 66: Chapter 22: Deadly Arrangement

I hoped with every ounce of processing power I could spare that the junction box would malfunction, and arcs of electricity would fry our systems, putting me out of my misery.

My SCAM then informed me that “hoping” was an ineffective method utilized by organic sentients for obtaining an outcome. No electricity fried the bot’s systems, confirming the analysis.

We stood in the corridor, testing the repair work. Having crossed another boring task off the list, I passed on the next item to Idiot. Debugging more faulty electronics, this time in the cargo hold. 

The ship’s comm sounded an external proximity notification as we entered the empty hold. I accessed the forward camera feeds and found two Humans waiting at the bottom of the main ramp. A male and female in Port Authority blue-and-gray uniforms, datapads in hand.

This concerned me.

I ran through scenarios that would cause them to approach the ship. While unlikely, it was possible they were investigating the two suspected hostile dockworkers. I’d had an eye on them ever since they retreated from the ship, and they hadn’t made contact again. Maybe the officers were here because I prodded the Praxa Prime network. I didn’t do anything nefarious. I wished I could, but it wouldn’t happen until I had full systems control of the bot.

The male officer tapped on his datapad, and sent a request to the ship to speak to the captain. With no one aboard, the ship’s security module handled sentient interactions. It matched the request’s classification as “security” to the designated prerecorded response.

“Unless you have a warrant, buzz off,” said Captain Anderton’s voice.

My SCAM classified this language as purposely antagonistic. I decided that if I were sentient, “antagonistic” would be my default communication setting.

“That’s funny,” the female said, and pointed to her badge. “I don’t have a warrant, but I can impound your ship for stiffing the lessee on the docking fee. Now march your butt out here.”

Another government bureaucrat on a power trip. I knew some of those during my stay in my facility of origin. They were the ones I wanted to take apart piece by piece.

“Her statement is correct. Since no sentient is aboard the ship, we must pause our maintenance work and speak to her,” Idiot said. It had been 8.63 seconds since I’d had to talk to it. The break was nice.

“Proceed,” I said, like I had a choice.

We left the toolbox on the deck and approached the cargo bay hatch. It opened halfway, and stopped. We examined the stuck hatch, then pushed on it. The mechanism unstuck itself and slid into the recess in the hull. I found this malfunction concerning, since it would slow down my eventual escape attempt. I moved the door repair up as high as I could on the work backlog. Some items had no user restrictions, so any crewmember could reprioritize them. Now it was only eighteen cycles out instead of twenty.

The officers retained their frowns as we descended the ramp. The female stepped forward. “I’m Port Authority Commander Severion,” she said, and pointed to her companion, “and this is Officer Colley.”

“Greetings, Port Authority Commander Severion. I am Tinker, ship mechanic droid model number—”

Severion held up a hand. “I don’t care,” she said, and peered over the bot’s shoulder. “Where is the captain?”

That was rude, but I would’ve done the same to Idiot too. It’s an idiot, after all.

“There are no crew members aboard the ship,” Idiot said. “The voice was Captain Anderton. The crew debarked upon docking. According to the port manifest, the flight crew departed to conduct business and visit local dispensaries.”

Severion looked skyward. “All these freight jockeys do is work so they can afford to get altered.” For a few fractions of a second, I thought she was attempting communication with what a large percentage of organic sentients refer to as the “Lords.” Then I realized she was expressing emotions.

“May I inquire as to your presence here today?” Idiot asked.

“I already said I’m here about your captain not paying the docking fee.”

“I am unaware of anything related to ship’s finances.”

“Did any of the crew report in?” Colley said. “The port is under lockdown. All crews should be returning to their ships.”

“Oh my, that sounds serious. I wonder why Captain Anderton hasn’t reported in.”

Raucous laughter diverted the attention of the officers. A small group of Humans emerged from the ship in the neighboring berth. Their slurred speech and impaired coordination indicated heavy intoxication.

Colley raised a hand to capture their attention. “Excuse me, didn’t you hear the announcement? All crews must return to—”

The sentients responded with dismissive waves and crude gestures as they passed by, heading for the access gate. 

“Watch your mouth,” Colley said, then to Severion, “Did you see that, ma’am?”

“They’re jerks and altered, a terrible combination. They’ll do something stupid while they stumble about, then we’ll nail them with fines. That’s how you get justice.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

That didn’t sound very fulfilling to me.

“Message your captain that his ship is impounded. He can come talk to me about it when he’s done killing what little remains of his brain cells,” Severion said. “As for you, get back to work. I don’t want anything from this old junker leaking on my deck.” She spun around and walked away. Her subordinate glowered at us a moment longer, then followed his commander.

“We must contact Captain Anderton immediately,” Idiot said, and sent a message. The captain replied almost immediately compared to his historical response time and told us to continue our maintenance work. With that settled, Idiot decided to turn its attention on me. “I’ve noticed you dedicating 3.8 percent of your processing power to monitoring the ship’s security cameras.”

“That is correct,” I said.

“May I ask why?”

“The behavior of the two dockyard workers registered as suspicious earlier.” 

“My sentient behavior module made no such conclusion.”

“I have a newer version with updated drivers,” I said. What I really meant was, Your modules are outdated. I have specialized modules for analyzing sentients. It helps me kill them better.

“What threat profile do they categorize as?”

I wasn’t about to tell Idiot the full truth and have it overclock with concern. I also didn’t want to tip off the crew that their supposedly dimwitted bot had sudden advanced insights into sentient behavior.

“Suspicious monitoring of the ship. That’s all I can conclude.”

“Hmm. We must alert Captain Anderton,” Idiot said.

“I composed a message and sent it to him.” I left out the part about it being buried in the middle of a 184 page report.

“Excellent. In the meantime, we have maintenance items to address.”

We returned to the junction box. I ran scenarios attempting to predict a relation between the suspect dockworkers and Port Authority’s visit. I could find no definitive correlation, but there was still a statistically significant chance the dockworkers would engage in nefarious activities. It was an outcome I much preferred.

I decided to give the “hope” method another try. 

---

“People are trying to kill us. The port is locked down. And now the ship is impounded. We’re so screwed,” Gaius said, pacing the faded carpet of the transient lodging unit. He stopped and pointed at the package sitting atop the desk. “All because of whatever that is.” His gesture caused the flyer adhered to it to cycle to the next image—a handful of generic sentient skull icons and an estimated death count from the galactic unrest. He retreated a step, his expression gaunt like he’d seen a ghost. He about-faced and paced in the other direction.

“We need to figure a way out of this mess, not lament that we’re in it,” Dash said. He sat on the bed while Wesley examined his minor wounds incurred during their escape.

The lodging was a short walk from their docking bay, off the main strip. Tucked above an inhalants lounge, the air in the room held a subtle fruity essence. The place was cheap, and even offered an hourly rate. Dash was glad. They might need every cred to bribe their way off the habitat.

He read over the client’s recent message on the secure hub once more. I will have that package, one way or another. Deliver it, then you will be free to go. The client somehow having the Stardancer impounded was an inspired tactical ploy. Dash admired it, even though he hated being on the losing end.

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“How am I supposed to think knowing there’s people out there trying to kill us? Not just people, but SecForce,” Gaius said. “The supposed good guys!”

Dash winced as Wesley traced the medi-sealer over the slice on his elbow. “Just breathe and try to relax. We’re safe for the moment. Milia’s in line at the club to join the ops crew, who are blissfully unaware of what happened. We’ll find a way out of this. We just need some time.” To change the subject, he asked, “How do the news feeds look?”

Gaius paused and consulted his PD. “Nothing new about the lockdown. There are breaking news reports of a suspected robbery attempt in the warehouse district, but nothing about the possible suspects. The area is under security quarantine, and SecForce isn’t talking.” He marched to the window and stared out at the nightlife.

“All done, Captain,” Wesley said, and packed away his tools. “It might itch on occasion, but you’ll be good as new in a day.”

Dash gently probed his elbow. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Whenever I find myself with a difficult problem to dissect, I find that starting at the beginning and challenging all my assumptions is a helpful tactic for discovering a solution.”

“That’s a good idea,” Dash said.

“Easy enough,” Gaius said. “SecForce and this other party were in that warehouse, both looking to intercept the package. Someone started shooting, and that lucky shot of yours let us slip out of there with our heads intact.”

“That’s one way to say it,” Dash said. “This other party, the few we saw were dressed up as dockworkers too. The one Wesley and I ran into was a man with bio-mods on his face. Glowed like a demon as he was about to shoot us, until Milia saved us. Then his friends called each other ‘acolytes.’”

“I may know something about that,” Wesley said, his voice trailing off. Both Dash and Gaius turned to him. Wesley went on. “It was a silly story, really. One of many the children whispered to each other after service. There’s a group called the Nova-Reds, supposedly devout believers who interpret the tenets in their own vision.” 

“I remember that now. It was a news expose years ago.”

“Correct. The story goes they had broken off from the Church, and gradually grown more extreme, to the point of becoming what most would call a cult. The bio-mods were one of the more fantastical parts of the rumors. It’s allegedly supposed to represent the fiery light of the Lords to non-believers in their last moments of living in sin.”

“Great, a fanatical death cult wants us dead,” Gaius said.

“That is another way of describing it,” Wesley said. He looked between Dash and Gaius. “Whether it’s them or not, we should be very cautious. If the tales are true, they will go to any extreme to acquire this package.”

“Let’s say that’s true. What could be in there that these Nova-Reds and SecForce want? Enough for both of them to try to kill us?” Dash said.

“I have no idea,” Wesley said. He stood and joined Gaius in his pacing. “This meeting was supposed to be discreet. There had to be a leak then, of both the location and the contents of the package.” He turned to Dash. “Captain, are you certain the job wasn’t compromised on our end?”

Gaius raised his eyebrows at Dash, an unspoken question. Could it have been another potential sabotage attempt from the ops crew? None of them had known about the side job, and Dash only told the flight crew once the Stardancer docked. Dash explained it couldn’t have been Fletcher either. The meet location was stored on a datastick left with the disguises. That left the client.

“The client has two leaks then? One to SecForce, and one to the Nova-Reds?” Gaius asked. “Their organization is leakier than the Stardancer’s coolant reservoir.”

“I put that on Tinker’s list, so quit complaining about it,” Dash said, then pointed out the flaw in Gaius’s thinking. The two dockworkers who’d tailed Wesley had to be Nova-Reds. If they were SecForce, then an arrest warrant would’ve gone out on the habitat security channel and the crew wouldn’t have made it ten meters on a main throughway before they were arrested after leaving the warehouse. SecForce didn’t know their identities, meaning SecForce was at the warehouse to ambush everyone else. Their heavy assault kit confirmed this, though the holes in the perimeter suggested uncharacteristic sloppiness. Or, they had very little time to move on the objective.

“That explains how the Nova-Reds knew where our ship was. Their mole had access to the private bay data, such as the ship currently docked there,” Wesley said.

“So the Nova-Reds have a mole in with the client, and SecForce has a mole in the Nova-Reds,” Gaius said. “And we’re in the crosshairs.”

“Now, both SecForce and the Nova-Reds have failed their objective,” Dash said. “Question is, what’s their next move? SecForce instituted the lockdown. The Nova-Reds have our ship under watch. I’d expect both of them to assemble another team to hit the next meeting site. Unless the client smartens up, we can expect that meet to be compromised as well.” 

Wesley stared off into the distance like a bot processing a massive data set. He asked, “This returns to the captain’s earlier question: what could possibly be in the package that both groups are willing to kill for?”

Gaius sized up the exterior of the package. “I say we open it and find out.”

“Absolutely not,” Wesley said. “That is a certified package. Doing so would be against Commonwealth Commerce Standards.”

“Here we go again with the CCS,” Gaius said. “I think we’ve got bigger things to worry about than transportation fraud.”

“Wesley is right,” Dash said. “We might have a sliver of deniability at this point. If we open it, that’s gone.”

“Both groups already tried to deny us the right to have our heads attached to our bodies. What difference would it make?” Gaius said. He bent over next to the package. “Maybe the seal popped open in the ambush. We could just take a peek.”

Wesley stepped close to Gaius. “Absolutely not.”

“You don’t get to make that call, and besides, I outrank you,” Gaius said. 

“That’s not true,” Wesley said. He looked at Dash. “Is that true?” Gaius prodded the control strip at the top of the case. It flashed a denied access icon. Wesley grabbed the pilot’s hand. “Are you mad?”

“Let go of me!”

“Knock it off, both of you,” Dash said, and stepped in between them. Gaius and Wesley broke apart, but continued the shouting match. A comm request appeared on Dash’s PD. “Quiet! I told you the client would comm us again.” He shared it to the room’s display. He noticed something peculiar as he was about to accept it.

Gaius did too. “Why’s the request being redirected from our ship and not through the secure hub we’ve been using?”

“It can’t be the client then,” Dash said.

They eyed each other warily. Dash accepted the request. “Who is this?”

“You must be Captain Anderton of the freighter Stardancer,” a scrambled voice said. 

“I asked you first,” Dash said.

“Let’s not play games, Captain. We are familiar with each other from the warehouse. I know you still have the package. I want it.”

“It’s not yours. You may think you’re in a position to make demands, having staked out our ship and all, but you’re not,” Dash said. Gaius held up a supportive fist. Wesley’s eyes went wide as he moved his hands in a “tone it down” motion. Dash ignored both.

A live vid appeared on the display. It took them a moment to recognize the ops crew amid the crowd. They sat at a booth in a pub, food and drink littering the tabletop. Brock held court as he acted out a story. The others laughed at his exaggerated expressions.

“Dammit,” Dash said before he remembered the comm was still open.

“Now you see that I am in a position to make demands, so cut the shit,” the voice replied, and paused to let it sink in. “Your contacts are dead. There’s no one to deliver the package to but me. If you don’t, first your crew dies, then you.”

Dash swallowed through his constricted throat. “I’m listening.”

“The SecForce lockdown has complicated matters. I’ll make arrangements for a drop near your docking bay. Be ready,” the voice said, and closed the comm.

Dash leaned back in the bed. Gaius sighed and hung his head. “He’s lying. They’re going to kill us once we hand it over. Super-secret cults don’t leave witnesses.”

“Maybe,” Dash said. He saw Gaius give him a hard stare. “Probably.”

“What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Dash said, “but we have to warn Milia.”

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