The Neptune Contingency: Starship Fairfax Book 3 - The Kuiper Chronicles Page 2

  “You asked for it, then,” Caspar growled. With a yell, she slammed her head up into Ada’s face. Ada blinked, squinted against the pain, and rolled off of Caspar, who leapt to her feet.

  Ada shook her head, trying to clear the stars from her vision. A warm trickle of blood ran from her nose. “Wait,” she mumbled, staggering to her knees.

  Caspar was pulling something from one of the other cargo shuttles. More charges. Ada took a moment to catch her breath. She didn’t understand the vehemence with which Caspar was trying to destroy the drones, but their immediate value seemed obvious to her. They were armed to the teeth. “Moses,” she subvocalized. “Is the Fairfax still being held in check by the Rome Inc. blockade?”

  “I’m afraid the situation has grown far worse, Ada. We are surrounded on all points by Rome Inc. and Earth Empire forces.”

  Empire forces? Ada cursed and laughed nervously. “We in the middle of a showdown, then? Between the two of them?”

  “Negative. They seem to be acting in cooperation, at least for the time being, in holding Fairfax captive.”

  Great.

  A plan began to form. Not a good plan, but a possible plan. She ran it by Moses.

  “It is conceivable,” he answered. “Yes, Hive seems eager to please me, Ada. I believe Hive will do it.”

  Ada frowned. It was creepy, thinking that a bunch of computerized robotic bumblebees felt eager to please her own AI. “Let’s do it, then.” She got on her feet, dizzy, but able to walk. “Caspar? Time to go!”

  The drones hummed more loudly as they began circulating more power.

  Caspar popped out from behind a shuttle, her arms full of another batch of explosive charges. She cast a glance toward the growing noise, then squinted at Ada. “What did you do?”

  “Thank me later, Lieutenant. Right now we need to get out of the airlock. About to cycle out!”

  Caspar groaned, but followed, scattering her charges on the deck around the shuttle housing Hive first. As soon as they had left the lock behind, Caspar pushed Ada up against the wall, pinning her neck with a strong arm. “Did you know about this?” she hissed. “Did you bring them onboard?”

  Ada shook her head, unable to make a sound. Caspar reached with her other hand and opened a comm channel to the bridge on the built-in console. “Caspar to Odin. Come in, Captain. We have an emergency situation.”

  When no one answered, she tried again. “Come in, Lucas! This isn’t a joke!”

  The comm crackled to life. “Lieutenant Caspar, get on the bridge. Now.” It went dead again. Caspar’s eyes, still wide, shot back and forth from the console to Ada, who was struggling to breathe. Caspar leaned in close to her. “If I find out you had anything to do with bringing those things on this ship, I swear you’ll regret it, pirate.” She spit the last word out, letting Ada go. Ada slid down the wall, gasping for air, and watched as Caspar ran to the nearest lift.

  Through the airlock doors, she saw the cargo doors slide open, and the drones fly out. Fly wasn’t really the right word; it implied grace, even beauty. The drones swarmed, really. Like flies over a dead thing.

  Once she was breathing normally, she contacted Moses again. Then she followed after Caspar.

  The atmosphere on the bridge was one of total shock. Ada stepped inside. The hiss of the doors closing behind her seemed deafening in the silence. On-screen, a tactical readout showed the Fairfax position to be in the center of a vast ocean of angry red dots. Caspar stood beside her, mouth agape.

  The captain cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Caspar.” His voice cracked a little. How did that kid get command of this ship? “Please take your station. What is our munitions status?”

  Caspar looked at him, her mouth still hanging open.

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “As an event horizon,” he said.

  She walked to her console, looking dazed. “Well, as you may or may not recall, Sir, we do not have the capability to fire on their ships.”

  “Half their ships,” he said. “Specifically, the half belonging to Rome Inc., and that’s assuming that each and every one of those is outfitted with the requisite code for stopping us. But let’s assume they are.”

  “Sure…” Caspar frowned. “I’m sorry, Sir, did you say half?”

  “Have a closer look.” He zoomed in on the tactical readout. A couple of the other bridge officers noticeably flinched. Earth Empire logos hovered over the entire sun-facing wall of the blockade. Empire military.

  Caspar cursed, then smiled. “Sir, they won’t be outfitted with the preventative code. If we run the line, maybe we can get behind it, lose ourselves back there before the shooting starts!”

  “The Empire isn’t here for Rome,” Ada said. All eyes turned to her. “They’re here for you.”

  Caspar’s eyes smoldered. “You really are in on this, aren’t you? You brought your little pets onboard, and then called up the infantry for what, so they could watch the fireworks?”

  Lucas raised a hand. “Caspar—”

  Caspar pointed at Ada. “No, listen! I caught her on the cargo deck with… with a weapon. A super-weapon, something no one is supposed to even know about.”

  Ada cocked her head to the side. “And yet I’m getting a strong sense you know all about it.”

  Caspar started towards her. “I’ll show you what I know.”

  Ada raised both hands. “I didn’t bring those things on this ship. You did. When you took a job for Rome Inc. I just happened to find them, and I rode over with the shipment thinking I could start them up and use them to tear up the Rome ships so we might have a chance of getting out of here alive. If trying to save all our skins is some sort of treason here, guilty as charged.”

  “How did you know about them in the first place?”

  Ada shrugged. “Same way I knew Rome and the Empire are working together. I’ve got program helping me look after myself.” She tapped the little earpiece.

  “AIs are illegal,” Caspar muttered.

  “Tell that to Jeffrey,” Lucas said.

  “It’s not what you think, actually,” Ada said. “Just a heavily modified instructional program developed to run and coordinate mining equipment.”

  “Whatever.” Caspar turned, flustered, to Lucas. “It doesn’t matter. These ships? They’re the enemy out there. But the enemy in our cargo hold, that’s the more dangerous. One way or another, we’re not making it out of this. Not this time.” She sat again, deflating a little.

  Lucas frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Sir!” One of the officers—the young one with the red hair, what had they called her? Mulligan—turned in her seat. “Permission to expand tactical to include subship space. You’ll want to see this.”

  Lucas nodded and gestured at the screen. Mulligan swiped at her console, and the view on the screen zoomed out to more fully enclose the Fairfax’s location. From beneath the ship, a cloud of red dots had emerged, and were forming up to come up around the bow. Some broke off to either side, wrapping around the ship in waves. Ada held her breath, watching, hoping she was right to put so much hope in Moses.

  The drones swarmed the ship.

  Chapter 3

  Waiting was the worst part. He’d made his peace with the battles as best he could, and he understood that preparations and training were essential if any of them wanted to survive. But those tense moments after they had comm’d their ultimatum—terms, as they were quaintly called—and they waited to learn if the ship would let them take what they’d come for, try to run, or make a stand, those moments when you waited, knowing the next few seconds might determine if you lived or died, and whether you’d go to sleep that night with blood on your hands or not—those were the worst.

  Erick Narren was having a crisis of conscience. He drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair on the tiny bridge of his ship, the Spacegull. Well, it had been his ship. He supposed it belonged to Rome now, along with all his ordnance, his fuel, his crew… his life
. He had no great love for his employer. But one of the things that he thought had made it worthwhile, made it something with which he could still sleep every night, was that he and Rome were unified in their defiance of the many-headed beast, the Empire. Now, sitting in the Spacegull, watching either end of the Rome force meet with ends of an Empire armada, he was having doubts. Where did Rome end and the Empire begin?

  He had thought he knew why he had been called out here. It wasn’t his favorite part of the job, but a function he took part in as much as he had to, to keep new recruits in line when they began having reservations. They always had reservations. That much was understandable; he had more reservations than good feelings about the nature of his relationship with Rome any given day. The difference was he was smart enough to keep his head down and his mouth shut, do his job, earn his credits, keep his ship in the air and his crew alive. Sometimes other crews and captains conscripted by the company needed a little extra encouragement. So he wasn’t surprised to find himself part of a show of force surrounding what looked like a souped-up battleship. But the Empire ships joining the fun? That was entirely new.

  A gamechanger, a little voice said in his mind. He sneered at it.

  Not really.

  You can’t work with them, it said.

  I don’t have a choice, he answered.

  It didn’t have to disagree. He knew it did. But no matter. For now, there was nothing to be done, anyway. No decisions had been made. Board, chase, fight. Erick leaned back in the chair, waiting out the terrible moment.

  The door behind him hissed open and he turned to see Wally amble onto the bridge.

  “How’re the babies?” Erick asked.

  Wally snorted. “All snug as bugs in a rug. Ready to fly.”

  Wally was in charge of munitions. The Spacegull was primarily a freight hauler, and flew with light ordnance compared to the rest of the ships under Rome Inc.’s banner. But they made a point of sprucing up the armaments of all their ships, so she carried more than she’d used to, back before Rome. Erick blinked the thought away. He didn’t need to be reminded of his life before Rome. Not if he wanted to stay alive now.

  “Jeffrey?” he asked. The ship’s AI—another modification made by Rome, and a highly illegal one—beeped to life.

  “Yes, Erick?”

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to enlighten us as to why we’re facing down a wall of Empire ships and not turning tail or taking aim.”

  “Actually,” Wally said, sitting at his station, “looks like Jeffrey’s got all guns trained on that sorry sod in the middle.”

  Jeffrey beeped. “That is accurate.”

  “What about the Earth Empire?” Erick said. “They have weapons locked on us?”

  “Negative. All Empire ships have targeted the central vessel.”

  Erick pursed his lips. “Ok… so, again. Care to explain what’s going on? Has the system turned inside-out while I’ve been sleeping? Last I knew, we were all wanted entities on the Empire’s lists.”

  “The Empire is acting in a supporting role for this operation,” Jeffrey said.

  Erick scoffed.

  Wally turned, scratching the back of his head. “Somethin’ funny about that arrangement.”

  “Just figured that out, did you?”

  “I mean, aside from the obvious. Makes it sound like Rome’s in charge, rather than who you’d expect.”

  Erick considered. “Jeffrey, can you request a livefeed with the Hammer?”

  Beep. “Request denied.”

  “Thanks,” Erick mumbled.

  The doors hissed open again. It was her. She stood barefoot, in a med-gown, wild-eyed, her brunette hair frazzled around her head. Erick’s mouth dropped open at the sight of blood running down her left arm. In her right hand, she held a small, dull blade—a kitchen knife.

  “Rylea!” Wally stood up, hands outstretched.

  “It’s ok,” Erick said. “Put the knife down, Rylea. You’re safe here. You’re with friends.”

  “Rylea, it’s me! Wally, you know—your brother? You recognize me?”

  Wally’s sister shifted her weight from left to right, her eyes wary like those of a hunted animal. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and Erick did not like how much blood it looked like she was losing.

  “Get them,” she rasped. “Get them out. We have to get them out!” She raised the knife, as if to plunge it deep into her upper arm.

  “NO!” Wally yelled.

  Erick dove for the knife, grabbing her arm with one hand and attempting to bat the blade away with the other. But even in her altered state, she was fast. The blade came down, biting into his own forearm. Erick growled through the pain and wrenched the weapon away from her, just as Wally reached them and restrained her.

  “Get them out! GET THEM OUT!”

  She screamed, her voice raw from terror. The doors hissed open once more and their medic bot rolled inside.

  “Sedative,” Erick snapped at it. “Now!”

  The bot produced a syringe, rolled to Rylea, and applied it. Within seconds she went limp and fell silent. Wally lowered her to the bot’s gurney, his eyes damp.

  “Restrict her movement,” Erick ordered the bot. A harness wrapped itself around her torso.

  “No!” Wally shouted.

  “It’s for her sake, Wall. So she can’t inflict any more self-harm.”

  Wally seemed to notice Erick’s wound for the first time. It stung like a wasp tenfold. Erick held a hand over it, trying to staunch what little blood was escaping. Happily, she hadn’t found a vein, but the relatively dull blade was going to leave a nasty scar. He felt his flesh swelling up around it already in one hot, angry lump.

  “Patch this up, would you?” he asked the bot. It ran a scan over his arm. Then a robotic arm extended to hold a collection bowl beneath the wound, while another rinsed it clean from above. Erick clenched his teeth. A syringe moved toward him. “What’s that?” he said.

  Jeffrey answered over the comm. “Just a little anti-inflammatory drug. The bot is about to staple the wound.”

  Erick cursed. “Can’t I have a shot of the good stuff first?”

  “Taking morphine on the cusp of a potential battle would not be wise.”

  “Fine. Just get it done quick, would you?” The bot shot him, then closed the wound. To Erick, it seemed like someone was digging a knife in his arm again. “Gahh!” He gritted his teeth again and held his breath, forcing himself to count to ten and back. The bot rinsed his arm again, applied a salve, and bandaged it.

  “Gotta get some nanos on this stupid ship,” Erick muttered. The ship’s med bots were cheaper than a doctor and better than nothing, but most of their methods seemed completely archaic. You get what you pay for, he reasoned.

  Wally was still making over Rylea, brushing her hair back from her sweat-coated forehead.

  “Why don’t you go with her to medical?” Erick said. “Just for a bit. Jeffrey and I can cover things up here, I’m sure, with the guns loaded. I’ll comm you if you’re needed.”

  A minute later he was alone on the bridge.

  “Jeffrey, any idea how the girl got up here?”

  Beep. “Reviewing… the prisoner was left unattended outside her room after breakfast, and appears to have hidden in the mess hall for the duration of the morning.”

  Until having her little episode. “She’s not a prisoner,” he said. “And you just now found it worth telling me about it?”

  “There has been significantly increased activity required to coordinate the current Rome operation. I apologize for the oversight, Erick.”

  “Well, shoot. Let me know if you see a flying pig.” It wasn’t like Jeffrey to apologize for anything. But even without that, Erick didn’t trust him. He couldn’t. The AI was the eyes and ears of Rome Inc. on the Spacegull. The snitch. It wouldn’t have surprised him in the least if Jeffrey’s oversight had been completely intentional.

  He could hardly blame Jeffrey, though, for bringing a girl high out
of her mind on Prophet onboard. That was on him.

  Beep. “Ready for battle,” Jeffrey announced.

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  For an answer, Jeffrey projected exterior cam view onscreen and zoomed in on the central ship. The surface seemed to ripple like water for a moment, then the waves broke up into a furious cloud of tiny machines that zipped out in all directions and coalesced again, like an angry swarm of insects.

  “What…?”

  A finger of the cloud shot out like a lightning strike, homing in on one of the Rome ships toward the center of the formation. Erick watched as the tiny vessels reached it. They tore into the hull like missiles, one or two ricocheting off the ship’s shielding, but most making it through. Seconds later, half of them again shot out the other side of the ship. Atmo vented out, crystallizing instantly. Debris followed, objects of various shapes and sizes, and—Erick squinted—bodies. His stomach lurched.

  “Wally?” he said over the comm. “We’re gonna need more bullets.”

  Chapter 4

  Dolridge held an arm over his eyes, trying to shield them as the venting atmo created a vortex in the hallway of his home. Across from him, Karoff was rocking back and forth on the floor, moaning. He had to stop of the hole fast, or they would both die.

  He stumbled back toward the living room, shivering against the icy gust and holding his breath. Any second now there would be no atmo left. He stopped, bumping into an antique of his grandfather’s—a bookshelf. He wondered, as he swiped the shelves clean with one arm, if it would stop up the window. It might. If he got it there in time.

  He grunted, trying to lift it. It wouldn’t budge. The thing was durable, and weighted in the bottom.

  “Help me!” he tried to yell to Karoff, but his voice was drowned in the chaos. Besides, Karoff looked as though he’d already given up. Somewhere in all these years, the man had gone soft. Should have taken up potato farming, Dolridge thought. He crossed to the other side of the shelf, risked a quick breath, and almost coughed it all back up, it was so cold. Darkness crept into the corners of his eyes. He bit his tongue, shook it off, and took another breath, this one covered by his hand. Then he wedged his shoulder up against the other side of the shelf and pushed with all his weight.