The weapon, p.11
The Weapon, page 11
part #1 of Star Fighters Series
“All work and no play – you know the saying. You don’t take good care of yourself Sam.”
“Yeah I know,” said Philips. “But I will after this mission. I’m serious about vacationing on Saddle.”
“We’re probably all going to need a vacation after this mission,” said Wheeler. “The Xanthu, Tusk, religious fanatics and treasure hunters gone mad, all after something that may grant the owner God-like powers…year, just another day at the beach.”
“Well, when you put it that way – yikes!” said Leah. “Sam, go take your nap. I’m reserving our hotel accommodations right now. At least that’ll give us something to look forward to. If we make it back in one piece that is.
--
Celeste was in high orbit around Handle, the system’s only gas giant and a central hub of activity for mining cooperatives, thrill seekers, smugglers and gambling syndicates looking to make a fortune in the ups and downs of the local market for mining futures. It was also a waystation for weary, in-system travelers and was also known to offer docking and berthing services to interstellar transports.
In fact, Celeste was one of the largest stations in this region of the Inner Worlds. Most of the larger stations were closer to the center, where they could better serve – and take advantage of – the large flows of people, goods, and commerce. However, business here wasn’t bad at all. It location had a different sort of advantage – it was still deep enough within the Inner Worlds to be well protected by state security forces and local police, but far enough from the center that competition from similar facilities was relatively slim, making its size, sophistication and suite of services highly sought after.
Celeste’s flight control staff was highly competent and professional. Probably former military, Philips thought, as he sat on the bridge, listening in as they guided the Resolute to its assigned docking facilities. The Resolute didn’t need anything per se, however, captain Rutledge decided to allow some of the longer serving crew members a bit of shore leave and ordered a few extra cases of Kaiser Schnapps made by the famous Kaiser Brothers Apple Consortium on Saddle. The Kaiser’s had thousands of acres on Saddle, where they grew a wide variety of apples and apple hybrids, half of which they used to concoct their highly sought-after beverages. Rutledge was a connoisseur of such things and wanted to stock up for what might end up being a long mission.
While the prices on Celeste were higher than those available planet side on Saddle, the cost of transporting from the surface to high orbit wiped out such savings, meaning Celeste always offered a better deal to captains already docked in their facilities.
Turning to Philips, Rutledge asked “is there anything you want me to order for your team? The prices here are excellent.”
Philips thought for a moment. “Wheeler is a big fan of Humboldt Fog cheese. Leah swoons over plum chocolates. I’ll take a case each – put it on my tab.”
“And for you?” asked Rutledge.
“I’ll have some of your schnapps, if you don’t mind.”
“Don’t mind at all,” he said, as he placed an order for cheese and plum chocolates.
“Much obliged captain,” said Philips.
“No worries,” replied Rutledge. Glancing at the time, he said “I’ll be meeting our operative in 20 minutes, at the Star Side Café, just a short walk from where we are docked. You and your team are welcomed to come along.”
“Definitely,” said Philips. “I’ll gather the team and meet you in the visitor’s bay. Say, 10 minutes?”
“Perfect,” replied Rutledge.
Ten minutes later, Philips, Leah and Wheeler had gathered in the visitor’s bay, waiting for the captain.
“What do we know about this operative,” asked Leah.
“Nothing so far,” said Philips. “The captain hasn’t said much. I’m not worried though, I’m sure we’ll find out all we can in a few minutes.”
A moment later captain Rutledge entered the visitor’s bay, one plain clothed member of naval security accompanying him. Philips could tell he was armed, although he kept his weapon discreetly out of sight and wore the type of armor that was invisible to all but the most experienced eyes.
“Expecting trouble?” asked Philips, as he motioned towards the guard.
“I always expect trouble,” replied the captain. “Although, no, I am not expecting specific trouble.”
“Let’s hope so,” replied Philips. “Please, lead the way.”
The interior of Celeste station was as inviting as it was enormous. The designers had clearly tried to make it appealing and welcoming to wealthy patrons as well as to those with less financial means. Here, it was easy to imagine wealthy aristocrats co-mingling with middle class laborers, technicians, farmers and off duty military. The place exuded a sense of abundance and opulence, without being off putting. Neither elitist nor snobbish, the ambiance was one of dynamic optimism, a can-do, lets-make-a-deal sense where everyone with the right aspirations could make their way here.
Philips felt like he was back in the academy, when he shared the exact sense of dynamic optimism that he saw in the shops, stalls and open markets arraigned throughout the interior, where goods, services and information were readily available, where lack of money was not necessarily a barrier to making deals happen, where a sense of “we can do this” permeated the air.
For a few moments he got lost in his thoughts, as he wondered if he should instead aim his sights on opening up a little business on this station, where he could meet people from throughout the Inner Worlds, cutting deals and taking a stake in new ventures.
“What’s on your mind Sam,” asked Leah, who had noticed his starry-eyed look. “You seem lost in your thoughts.
Philips shook his head. “Nothing Leah. I was just thinking about what it would be like to be a shop keeper here on Celeste. Imagining a typical day.”
“Seems our young man here is in the midst of an existential crisis,” said Wheeler, a smile on his face softening his analysis.
“Nah. No crisis here,” replied Philips.
Rutledge and his security man were a few steps ahead of the Star Fighter trio. He stopped and gestured to an area on their left. “There’s the Star Side Café,” he said. “Let’s get a table. Our friend should be joining us any minute.”
The Star Sid Café was managed by Alfredo Gold, a stocky, well-built man who clearly knew his way around a kitchen. After seating them at a table large enough for their entire expected party of six, he immediately began describing the day’s specials in rich, mouth-watering details.
“We’ll start with a round of water and Kaiser Schnapps,” said Rutledge, placing a group order for the table. “We’ll hold off on entrees for now.”
Alfredo’s look of disappointment quickly changed the captain’s mind, as he said “You know what, let’s start with an order of appetizers. Your house special, sir.”
Alfredo smiled broadly and disappeared into the kitchen for several minutes, returning with a waiter at his elbow, serving each with a heaping dish of meatballs, covered in tomato sauce and cheese, garlic, leeks, peppers and onions. Exotic spices that Philips couldn’t identify also added to the intensity of flavor, and the overall deliciousness of the dish.
“Wow!” said Wheeler after taking a bite.
“This is fit to be a full-on entrée,” said Leah.
“Yeah,” agreed Philips, as he stuffed his mouth with a forkful of food. He had just realized how hungry he really was.
“Don’t say I don’t treat my guests to the finest,” said Rutledge. “We should return to this place once your mission has successfully concluded.”
“Successfully being the operative word,” said Philips. “Say, where is your operative? Aren’t they running a little late?”
Rutledge looked as his watch. “A few minutes.” Tapping a comm key on his sleeve, he called the Resolute’s watch officer. Nodding his head, he said, “he hasn’t called into the Resolute either,” said Rutledge.
Rutledge than waved over Alfredo, who came in a hurry, clearly eager to please his patrons. “Yes, captain? What can I get for you?”
“Thank you, Alfredo,” replied Rutledge. “Everything is great. However, our guest is late. Have you received any messages from a Mathew Shinakoa? He knew to meet us here.”
“One moment sir,” said Alfredo, as he hurried back to the front desk to check the reservation list.
Coming back, he said, “no sir. Your friend has not called or left any messages. Perhaps he is waiting for you on your ship?”
“Thanks Alfredo,” said Rutledge. “Please put this on my tab. We have to get going.”
“I’m very sorry you can’t stay longer,” replied Alfredo. “If Mr. Shinakoa does show up later, shall I direct him to your vessel?”
“Yes, if we are still here, please do,” replied Rutledge.
Taping his comm key again, Rutledge ordered a team of naval security officers to fan out throughout the Celeste to search for the missing operative and ordered his personal guard to remain outside of the Star Side Café in case he showed up there later.
“Now what?” asked Philips. “Is this guy normally late to meetings.”
“Never,” replied Rutledge.
“Do you know what ship he came in on,” asked Leah.
“Negative,” replied Rutledge. “He typically doesn’t share such details with us, and we don’t ask.”
“Suggest we requisition the station’s security tapes,” said Philips. “They might contain some clues as to his whereabouts – if he’s on this station that is.”
“Good idea,” said Rutledge.
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The Celeste security team was extremely cooperative. Once they confirmed captain Rutledge’s identification, they immediately opened their surveillance files to the Resolute’s security team. Five security officers reviewed three days’ worth of recordings and used built in AI protocols to try and narrow down when and where Shinakoa would most likely appear on the recordings. Automated programs also combed through the recorded information, identifying instances where people who matched Shinakoa’s description were recorded aboard the station.
“There,” said Leah, as she, Philips, Wheeler and Rutledge reviewed one set of recordings flagged by the AI as likely containing images of Shinakoa.
Is that him?” asked Leah, as Rutledge zoomed in on the figure walking from docking bay 3, berth 9, towards a weapon shop adjacent to the docking facilities favored by the mining consortiums.
“That is definitely our man,” said Rutledge, as they all continued to watch the recordings.
The recording showed Shinakoa entering the weapon shop, looking around for a few minutes before speaking to the shop owner. Money exchanged hands and the shop owner handed Shinakoa what looked like a mini XK-7 – a high powered, but low-profile projectile weapon that could crack level one hard body armor and avoid detection by most automated low-level energy discharge security protocols.
“What do you suppose he needed that for,” asked Philips.
Rutledge shrugged. “I don’t know. My security team always checked him for weapons before our meetings, and he was always armed with something.”
“So, him buying a weapon isn’t necessarily unusual,” said Philips.
“Not really,” replied Rutledge.
“His choice of weapon was very specific,” said Leah. “Why that specific gun?”
“Right,” said Wheeler. “He clearly had a target, or objective in mind.”
“Captain, what sort of armor do you typically wear?” asked Philips.
“When not in a combat situation…level one hard body armor,” Rutledge replied. “Wait. Are you suggesting that I was his intended target?”
“Not necessarily,” said Philips. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”
“Or maybe not,” said Leah. “The Star Side Café’s does, in fact, employ low-level energy discharge security protocols, as do most such establishments. That means he could have entered the café, armed with that weapon, and no one would have known it.”
“My security would have searched him before we ever met,” said Rutledge. “Besides, I’ve met with him dozens of times, alone in closed rooms, and he’s never posed a threat.”
“Things change,” said Philips. “That device is in play now. No telling who he’s involved with that may now want you out of the way.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Rutledge protested. “Whose way am I even in?”
“It’s the curse,” said Wheeler.
They all turned to look at him.
“What are you talking about?” asked Philips.
“We talked about it before. People on your team are being targeted. Like it or not, captain Rutledge is now a member of your team.”
“My team?” said Philips. “If anything, it’s anyone that has anything to do with recovering that device for our government that is a target. In that case, yes, the captain would be a member of that group.”
Rutledge shook his head. “This is crazy. Let’s advance the footage. I want to see what happened after he bought that gun.”
Leah pressed a button and the recording continued.
The recording showed Shinakoa securing the weapon inside his jacket and exiting the shop, where he loitered around for the next few minutes before being greeted by another man dressed in a gray tunic, his face obscured from the cameras by an anonymity screen.
“Have security crack that anonymity screen,” said Leah, “they might be able to get us a look at that guy’s face.”
Rutledge keyed a command on his sleeve console. “Done.”
The recording showed the two men talking for a few minutes, after which Shinakoa followed the other man back to docking bay 3, berth 12.
There, the two men met a third party, who invited them both aboard the docked ship.
“Who does that ship belong to?” asked Rutledge.
Leah pressed a few buttons on the surveillance console. “Owner shows as Luther Donneybrook. He owns Star Resource Unlimited. Based on reported revenue, it’s a small operation, but they’ve got claims everywhere. Station records show they departed Celeste about an hour before we docked.”
“Ship name,” asked Philips.
“The Miner’s Helm,” replied Leah.
Rutledge commed the Resolute. “Commander. Check the logs. We’re looking for a ship identified as Minder’s Helm. It undocked Celeste station about an hour before our arrival. See what you can find out. And I want to know where it’s heading.”
“Now what” asked Wheeler. “Chase down the Miner’s Helm?
“No time, unfortunately,” replied Rutledge. “We’ve got a timetable to keep. We’ll figure this out later.”
Chapter 11
The Resolute entered the yellow zone on schedule, at 1400 ship’s time and two days out from drop off at the red zone.
Rutledge told the Star Fighters that they were en route to the Baton’s last known coordinates, where they would either make contact with the other naval vessel or locate a stealth message buoy that the Baton’s captain would have left behind for them to find.
Such message buoys were used by the Navy to leave behind messages when live transmissions were impossible, and secrecy was of the essence.
They were often used to warn friendly vessels of local dangers, whether criminals, weapons or environmental conditions. Sometimes, such buoys were the last messages sent by ships that were subsequently lost or destroyed, and helped investigators determine what happened to ships and crews.
The Baton’s last known coordinates placed it in orbit around a dessert planet called The Forge. As far as natural beauty, the planet was not very appealing to humans, although when a population reaches a hundred billion, statistics guaranteed that there would be a subset of humans who found planets like The Forge to be slices of paradise.
Free liquid water was a rare occurrence over much of The Forge’s surface. There were pockets of water scattered around the planet, including a sizable sea and several significant rivers. However, the planet lacked significant rain fall, amounting to a few inches per year. Across most of the surface, water evaporated from the ground faster than it could be replaced by precipitation, hence The Forge’s desserts were long term features that persisted for tens of thousands of years.
A typical day was extremely hot by human standards, hovering around one hundred twenty degrees Fahrenheit, while nights became very cold, with temperatures dropping to near freezing temperatures.
Despite this, some plants, animals and other smaller organisms managed to make the dessert planet their home, evolving to survive the harsh conditions. The most common flora were the spindle cacti, which slowly absorbed water from the ground and atmosphere and stored it in their capillary systems, allowing them to survive the long drought periods. Fauna typically came out at night to forage for food and had evolved the ability to maximize the extraction of water from the food they ate, and to conserve it for vital functions. The desert mouse was the most common mammal on the planet, although several species of dessert birds, reptiles and insects were also common.
Philips looked up from the data screen that provided statistics regarding The Forge.
“Interesting planet,” he said, as he looked over towards Leah. She was still focused on the data screen, absorbed by the various numbers and factoids scrolling past her eyes.
“Can’t imagine anyone coming here voluntarily,” said Philips. “Who’d actually want to live on a dessert planet?”
“Oh, trust me lad,” said Wheeler. “I’ve known plenty of former Marines who loved these environments. Something about you against nature. For some people, surviving in extreme places like this proves to them that they are alive.”
Philips shrugged. “They can take their pulse to do that,” he quipped. “I don’t think I’ll be vacationing here anytime soon.”
Captain Rutledge interrupted by saying, “kate to break it to you, but that’s where you’ll have to go if you want to make contact with Clyde Shaw.”
“The smuggler?” asked Philips.
“The one and same,” replied Rutledge. “Shaw never, and I mean never, has stepped foot aboard a Naval vessel.”
