The Captain Page 2

  Adrenaline pushed the last vestiges of sleep away. Who was Stella really? How did someone her age happen to own a starship like the Night Lady? He stopped at the ground floor and opened the first door he came to. His thoughts were interrupted as a pair of handles fell outwards, bouncing off the ground with a loud bang.

  “Burn me,” he cursed, staring at the dusty array of cleaning equipment and garbage stuffed into the tiny closet. Did Stella not have enough money to pay a janitor? Picking up the broom and mop, he stuffed them back in and shut the door. When the door was closed, he leaned against it, catching his breath and slowing the beating of his heart.

  Calm down Den, he told himself, you work here now, it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong. He kept walking and stopped at the room Stella had been drinking in. The night before he hadn’t had a chance to look around so he let his eyes sweep over it carefully.

  It was a living room of sorts, the furnishings were a motley array of couches, tilting coffee tables, and two old armchairs that were leaking stuffing onto the floor. Plus, an actual fireplace that dominated the wall across from him. He wondered what they burned in it because wood could not be cheap enough to burn on Rocquamport. His eyes continued over the oddity and he took in the old beer stains on the walls, broken glass, and cigarette butts. The place was a dump.

  Turning around in disgust, he stopped in surprise when he saw a gleaming bar behind him. A hiss broke into his thoughts and his eyes focused on a man standing over a stove behind the bar. The man’s back was to him, but Den could smell that he was cooking breakfast.

  “You the new hire?” said the man without turning.

  Den started, the sudden words breaking the early morning clarity of his thoughts.

  Disappointment filled him as reality set in, “Yes, I’m Denis, I mean Den,” he answered, grabbing one of the stools in front of the bar.

  “Ehh.” The man didn’t turn, but his hands moved across over the stove as he flipped eggs and roasted bacon.

  “You meet Stella?”

  “Kind of.”

  “She in one of her moods?”

  If you mean drunk out of her kriffing mind? “Yeah, I guess,” he answered.

  “Don’t worry about her yet. What did she hire you for?”

  “I’m a hacker.”

  “You any good?” The man produced a plate from one of the shelves and flicked a pile of eggs onto it.

  “I make a living.”

  “Could be useful.”

  “So, you must be Akatski. Tan told me about you.”

  The man nodded and thrust the plate at him. “That’s me.”

  Den was just reaching for the plate when he heard footsteps at the door.

  “Kriffing hell, I thought I told you to leave!”

  Den nearly dropped his plate, as Stella slid onto the stool beside him. To his surprise, she looked surprisingly good for someone who had been so drunk the night before. Her eyes were a little puffy, but other than that, she looked no worse for wear. He re-evaluated his earlier estimation of her. She carried herself like she was much older, but he doubted she was any older than him, probably younger.

  She scratched irritably at a scab on her wrist and ignored him. He sat quietly on his stool content to be forgotten. She smelled like smoke and beer and was still wearing the same tank top and leather pants from the night before. Akatski handed her a glass of something green, and Stella took it grudgingly.

  “Burn you,” she complained glaring at the glass morosely.

  “Drink it.”

  She took a sip and grimaced.

  “Ahh, good morning Stella,” said Tan joining their small group. “So, we’ve got a job then?”

  Stella scowled at him, “Kriff off Tan.”

  Tan smiled at Den, “Good morning Den.” He took his plate as Akatski slapped it on the bar.

  “Good morning,” answered Den watching Stella from the corner of his eye.

  She chewed her food mechanically while taking great gulps of the green liquid.

  “So, what’s the job?” said Tan.

  “If you really kriffing have to know, right now, a Ship called the Albatross Rebecca is coming in a few days, and I came across an extra boarding credential,” snapped Stella. She glared at Den again, “Why is he still here? I thought I told you to get rid of him.”

  Tan raised his eyebrows. “He said you offered him a job.”

  Stella picked a piece of toast out of her teeth, and flicked it over her shoulder, “He’s a pansy.”

  “Well, he did come out all the way from Earth.”

  Hope and fear flittered through Den by turns. Why had she offered him the job if she didn’t want him?

  Stella reached for her belt and pulled out a pistol before slamming it on the table. “Where’s yours?”

  Den stared at the gun in surprise, “My what?”

  “Your gun. Only an idiot would walk around Rocquamport without a gun. Look.”

  As if by magic, Akatski and Tan both pulled out pistols he hadn’t noticed before and laid them on the bar.

  Stella stared at him for a long moment and Den felt a sudden fear tingle at the base of his spine. Ketchup dribbled from the corner of her lip, but he found himself unable to look away. There was something feral, about her dull, blue eyes, an animalistic intensity that paralyzed him.

  Finally, she turned away with a snort, “Kriff it, I’m only giving you a chance because Tan likes you, but don’t think you’re one of us yet.” She shoved her pistol back into its holster, “Tan that makes him your responsibility. See that he gets a gun. It’s embarrassing to have a member of my crew walking around without one.”

  Disbelief filled Den, “But I’ve never used a gun before. I’m a hacker.”

  A sharp laugh escaped Stella. “You’ve never used one? How did you even make it to Rocquamport alive? You’re on the outer edge now dumbass. There’s no one here who cares enough to protect you except yourself. I doubt you’ll even last a week.”

  Behind her, Tan groaned audibly and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Shut up, Tan, I don’t want to hear about it now. You already volunteered so you get to train our newbie how not to get killed. Got any more stupid questions newbie?”

  I didn’t ask anything, thought Den, but bit his lip. “Tan showed me the Night Lady last night, but what is it that you guys, I mean that we do exactly? I mean most transportation companies don’t need to hire hackers.”

  Stella choked, spraying food across the bar, before she started laughing, “You mean, you actually believed the About Section on the nets? Give me a break. Is your middle name Saint Innocence? Nothing on Rocquamport gets here by choice. Not even you. There are very few things we transport that actually want to be transported.”

  “You mean you steal things?” he said, feeling confused.

  “I’m talking straight up kriffing thievery and the occasional assassination. Whatever people will pay for is what we do. If you want to work with us, then you’ll have to be satisfied that. It’s what you have to do to survive on Rocquamport.” Stella’s eyes flashed an unspoken challenge and Den felt both Tan and Akatski lean closer.

  He didn’t look away. “I need a hundred thousand marks to buy back an identity in the UPC. The moment the Guard convicted me with false evidence they gave me the license to do whatever I need to, to get my life back.” He paused, weighing his words, and realized that they were true. Burn the UPC, what did he owe the asshats in robes who’d signed away his citizenship anyway? “I don’t care what we do as long as you pay me for it.”

  Grudging approval filled Stella’s eyes, “Fine, you’ll get your chance. The first mission is in five days. That’s when the Albatross Rebecca will be here. It’s stopping to resupply and it’s also carrying a pallet of Synth Composite. I want those drugs. Me, Akatski, and Tan will do all the hard work, but I need you to make sure we have a blind spot in the port security system. You got that?”

  Den nodded. Judging from the way the port had look
ed he doubted the security system would be hard to mess with. “I should be able to make that happen.”

  “Good, then this afternoon you’re going to make the supply run with Tan.”

  “Sure, Captain, whatever you say,” he answered.

  Stella glared at him, “Don’t ever kriffing call me Captain again. I’m Stella. Only my enemies call me Captain.”

  3

  Bounty Hunters

  “Don’t mind Stella too much,” said Tan as they walked through the dusty streets between shops.

  Den grunted under the weight of the groceries balanced precariously on his shoulders.

  Tan turned back his hands in his pockets, “Hurry up, we don’t want to be late. It puts Stella in a bad mood.”

  Annoyance filled Den as he struggled beneath the mound of groceries, which Tan made no move to help him with. “I’m coming.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot, we’ve got one last stop.”

  Den fought down a groan. “Where’s that?”

  “Akatski gave me a couple things for the list as well.”

  Tan turned them down a side street and kept walking. Den felt odd carrying the bag of groceries through the empty streets. The constant press of people he was used to from Earth was utterly absent here. There were a few other people about, but for the most part, everyone seemed to keep indoors because of the heat.

  Above them, the skyscrapers loomed threateningly. They were paltry comparisons to the mountains of permasteel and concrete that covered Earth’s surface and their presence was much less comforting. He found the air at their feet to be stale and uncomforting. Everything on Rocquamport was old and the sidewalk itself was cracked and crumbling. He’d read that it had been an important way station once, about a thousand years ago, but after people had become settled on the more hospitable worlds it had steadily declined.

  After a couple blocks, Tan stopped outside a heavy wooden door bound with steel. He pushed open the door and Den followed him in, breathing a sigh of relief as cool air embraced them. The inside of the shop was dark and Den made out the bare outline of a counter and the shape of a man sitting behind it before the lights flickered on.

  “Rog!” called Tan. “Thought you might be sleeping back there, but it looks like I was wrong.”

  The big man standing behind the counter rubbed his gut and smiled at them. “What’s this Tan? A newbie?”

  “Den meet Rog, purveyor of anything that maims, explodes, or will otherwise ruin your day,” said Tan dryly.

  Rog stuck out a meaty paw, and Den shook it halfheartedly.

  “So, Tan, what can I get for you today?”

  “Akatski said he needs some more 50 cals.”

  Rog shook his head, “Still running around with that cannon, is he?”

  Tan smiled, “You know him.”

  Rog shuddered, “Once was enough. I’ve got some 50 cals over there. Take as many as you want.” Rog pointed to a sagging cardboard box on the end of a shelf.

  “Oh yeah,” said Tan waving his thumb at Den. “I need one other thing. A gun for him.”

  Rog scratched his head, “You sure he knows how to use one?”

  “He’ll learn.”

  “Sounds like Stella’s getting desperate hiring someone as green as him.” Rog rubbed his chin. “I got a pistol, but that’s probably about all he can handle.”

  “That’ll do, give him a nine mil.”

  “Yeah probably wise not to trust him with a laser.”

  Tan paid Rog and he handed him a sack filled with the ammunition they had chosen. They were nearly to the door when Rog stopped them. “Hey, Tan.”

  Tan swung back around and Den groaned inwardly in annoyance. The groceries were starting to get heavy.

  “You’d best watch yourself, Carrolton’s men were just on sixth looking for you.”

  Tan stiffened, and Den watched his lips press into a thin line. “You’re sure.”

  Rog nodded, “You’re a paying customer.”

  Tan pushed Den towards the door, “Then thanks for the heads-up Rog, I really mean it.”

  “I hope I see you again,” called Rog.

  “You will.”

  The moment they were outside Den turned to Tan, “What was that all about?”

  “Shut up,” snapped Tan.

  “What?”

  “I said shut up!” he reached into the bag and pulled out the pistol. “Can you pull the trigger?”

  “Yes, I mean, I think so,” said Den feeling suddenly nervous. “But why?”

  Tan slammed a cartridge into the gun. “If I tell you to shoot then shoot,” he answered. “Otherwise, follow my lead.”

  Gulping, Den set the groceries down to take the gun.

  “What the kriff’re you doing? Pick them back up,” said Tan.

  Den stared at him, “But how am I supposed to shoot?”

  “Figure it out unless you want Stella to kill you herself when we get back.”

  Gulping, Den shoved the pistol into his pocket and hefted the groceries again. Tan led him through an alleyway back towards the main streets that would take them to the car. He stopped at each corner to look and though Den followed his gaze, nothing about the dusty clothes of the few people on the streets gave him any clue as to what Tan might be looking for. They were a block away from the car when Tan stopped with a curse.

  Den followed Tan’s eyes and this time he did see. Three men were standing around their car. As he watched one of them kicked the front bumper savagely.

  “Burn me,” cursed Tan. “She’s going to make me pay for that.”

  Den looked at the dent. It matched a dozen other dents. He couldn’t even tell the difference. The sharp click of Tan cocking his gun drew his attention.

  “Who are those men?” he whispered.

  “Carrolton.” The single word escaped Tan’s lips like a curse. “Keep your hand on the gun,” he said then stepped around the corner.

  Immediately, the three thugs turned, “Ah, Tan, so the Captain sent you out to do her dirty work again,” said the man in the lead.

  “You’re a long way from home Dartan,” said Tan a dangerous edge creeping into his voice that Den hadn’t heard before.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” answered Dartan casually. “Someone’s just issued a bounty of 500,000 marks for your crew.”

  Den could see the tension in Tan’s shoulders, but his voice was calm. “Come now Dartan, I thought you were smarter than that. You know what’ll happen if you touch us.”

  “Nothing, I’m guessing,” smiled Dartan evilly. “I’m just here to clean up.”

  A sick feeling filled Den. Did that mean they already had Stella and Akatski? “Tan,” he whispered.

  “I know,” muttered Tan. “Keep it cool.” Though as Den watched, his fingers tightened around the butt of his pistol and it slid half an inch upwards.

  “Why don’t you tell me what makes you think your friends can handle the Captain and Akatski,” said Tan in a dry voice. The pistol slipped a little further out of his holster.

  Den glanced at the three men and felt his throat tighten. All of them were packing. Even if Tan managed to shoot two of them, he doubted he’d be able to take down all three. This was going to get ugly. He searched across the dusty plaza looking for something to give them a way out and his eyes fell on Stella’s car.

  He cursed himself inwardly for not getting the neural passcode from Tan earlier. Dartan and his men stepped closer together and he watched their hands beginning to drift towards their pistols. If he was going to do something he had to do it quickly. Dropping the groceries, he twisted his signet ring. The skin on the back of his right hand cooled as he felt the neural net inside the ring spread across it.

  It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough. Synching the net to his implants, he stepped into the quantiverse. The net connection was slow, and Den felt the world flicker around him as the quantiverse struggled to render. The connection finally smoothed and Den felt his eyes focus again. He was in. He look
ed at Stella’s car and saw the walls of code protecting it.

  Relief filled him as he watched the dynamic shift of the ever-changing code. It was just an AI. The movement of the numbers and letters was too predictable for it to be a quant. Even so, the numbers flickered through their changes much faster than a normal person would be able to handle.

  Den stepped forward, and felt Tan’s hand tighten around his wrist, but heard no sound. His net connection was maxing out just to render him a visual and simply maintaining it through the poor connection was taking so much of his mental capacity his audible senses had been automatically detached. He focused his computer enhanced thoughts on the code, feeling the pattern of it, tracing his mind through the shifting pattern. Looking for the internal logic arrays that would give him control over the system and access to what he wanted, the engine controls.

  He let the code sift through his mental fingers. Since the invention of quantum computing and humanity’s subsequent surge into space, static coding had become a thing of the past. As computing power grew hieroglyphic coding evolved and now any system not protected by a dynamic architecture could be hacked by a two-year-old with a crayon. There were still AI like this one that could write dynamic code, but no AI could ever truly match a human mind paired with a quantum computer through a hieroglyphic connection.

  At the highest level were quant’s whose very existence depended upon the supercomputers since so much of their minds were invested in the network they lost the ability to control basic bodily functions without the aid of a computer. Further down on the chain were hackers like him. People whose innate talent allowed them to sync so closely with the computers that they could use them as an extension of their mind. The ones whose parents hadn’t had enough money to pay for entry into the quant programs.

  Den allowed his thoughts to drift as he assimilated the numbers. Devoting his entire focus to the strands of code he understood. As he worked his understanding of the protective architecture grew and he began to build a model like an enormous 3D pictogram. Numbers flowed out from his thoughts as he gave the computer aided side of his brain direction. He felt Tan’s hand begin to pull him back but paid it no attention. Time didn’t exactly slow in the quantiverse, but the extra computing power syncing with his brain made it seem so. Only about 1.3 seconds had passed since he entered the network.