Federation chronicles th.., p.48
Federation Chronicles: The Complete Series, page 48
“I call that surviving,” Guttman said.
Oscar nodded. “Yeah, but it doesn’t make us brave. Maybe we are cowards. Not,” he said, drawing out the word before Guttman could interrupt, “without good reason. We need to survive, but what if it’s not enough?”
Guttman rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “You’re starting to sound like a DUC recruiter.”
Oscar shrugged.
“What do you want us to do?” Becker asked.
“I don’t know; but doesn’t leaving Quinton on his own seem wrong?”
“Wrong,” Guttman scoffed. “Not everything is about right or wrong. The longer we stay here, the more likely we’re going to die on this ship. Did you forget what happened on that starbase?”
“You mean the one where Quinton defended all of us against a fleet of Sentinels? That one? The same where he got us to this ship so we could escape. Yeah, you’re a real piece of work.” Oscar shook his head.
“Oscar,” Becker said, “I don’t like it any more than you do. But we’ve got to be realistic here. There’s nothing any of us can do about the Sentinels, Crowe, or the damn Collective. Nothing,” he said and looked away. “Nothing we can do.”
Oscar slipped his hands into his pockets and looked away.
“If I could think of something, I’d tell him. I’d even help him, but there isn’t. Guttman’s right. We’re dead if we stay here.”
Oscar took a few steps and then turned back to face the other two. “Harper might not be stable. We even thought Quinton wasn’t for a while, but there’s something in both of them, something we’ve lost. The way he looks at us… as if he’s the only one to realize it. He’s not.”
Guttman glanced at Becker. “What’s he talking about?”
Oscar walked toward the door. “I need to get some air.”
“Watch out for Harper,” Guttman said.
Oscar paused at the door for a few moments.
“He’s right,” Becker said. “We’ve got to watch our backs. Quinton stopped Harper this time, but we can’t rely on him always being there.”
Oscar exhaled explosively. He turned around, walked to his quarters, and closed the door.
“What the hell was that all about?” Guttman asked.
“Salvager’s remorse.”
Guttman glanced at the door to Oscar’s room and sighed. “We need to keep an eye on him. That remorse can make you do stupid things,” he said and looked at Becker. “So, what happens now?”
“He’ll be fine. Quinton is going to drop us off at the nearest star system that has a station or resupply depot. From there, we’ll have to make our own way,” Becker said.
Guttman grumbled and sat down. He opened a holoscreen and began looking at star charts.
A few seconds later, Becker joined him.
Quinton watched the video feed of the passenger lounge on his internal HUD. Both he and Harper were still on the bridge. Harper had entered a rest cycle a short time earlier, and he’d be out for a few hours.
Quinton disconnected the video feed. Forget crew cohesion now. Maybe he’d be better off with the others off the ship. He still wasn’t sure what to do. Should he try to stop Crowe? How was he supposed to do that? Did that mean hunting him down wherever he was? He’d have to find him first, but the Wayfarer wasn’t that kind of warship. It had teeth, but there were limits to what he could do with one ship. Would somehow taking out Crowe stop the attacks, or would his second-in-command take up the same fight? A Sentinel incursion sounded bad for everyone, so why would Crowe risk it happening? There were risks, and then there were risks someone takes when they think they have nothing left to lose, but still, Quinton couldn’t figure out what Crowe wanted to achieve. What was his endgame? If Crowe’s back was against the wall, he had no choice but to fight. If Lennix Crowe was simply trying to get the Collective to back off, these attacks would be limited. Crowe would just be trying to prove a point and the attacks should stop.
Quinton glanced at the comlink control on his workstation. He needed Becker for this. Becker knew Lennix Crowe. He’d been part of Crowe’s Union for years. But then he looked away and shook his head. Only a few hours ago, he’d told Becker he was going to drop them off at the nearest spaceport, and he doubted Becker or any of the others wanted to speak to him. He considered bouncing ideas off Radek but dismissed it.
The door to the bridge opened. Becker stepped inside and stopped. “We need to talk,” he said and looked over at Harper for a moment. “Alone.”
“He’s in a rest cycle, so we can talk here.”
Becker walked toward him, his blaster holstered on his hip. Quinton did a quick query for the others. Guttman was in the galley, preparing a meal, but he also had a weapon nearby. Oscar was in his quarters.
“All of you are armed now?” Quinton asked.
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“Right.”
“None of us feel safe around Harper. That’s just the way it is.”
“Unacceptable,” Quinton replied. “Argh—It’s my turn. I’m not going to allow everyone to walk around my ship armed and moments away from a fight. That’s no way to live.”
“I’m not giving up my weapon.”
Becker didn’t change his posture at all. He was simply stating a fact.
“Put your weapons back in the armory. Argh—again, it’s my turn. There are palm stunners available. Use those for self-defense while on the ship.”
“Palm stunners.”
Quinton nodded. “Yeah, palm stunners. I tweaked them so they’ll have no problem with… They’ll work. That’s all you need to worry about. I’m not going to have people blowing holes in my ship.”
Becker considered this a few moments. “Do they work on you?” he asked, his tone light.
Quinton lifted his lips.
Becker snorted. “All right, fine. I’ll let the others know,” he said and paused. “Quinton, things got out of control.”
“You think?”
“I do.”
“What did you want to talk about?” Quinton asked, preferring not to kick the old drive coil.
“Iskevian Spaceport,” Becker said and gestured toward the main holoscreen. A star chart appeared, showing the Wayfarer’s coordinates and a plot to the spaceport. “It’s not associated with the Collective, so it should be relatively safe. From there, we can find our own way.”
Quinton looked at the coordinates. He hadn’t actually picked a spaceport to leave them at yet. “Sounds good,” he said and sent an update to the nav computer.
The data on the main holoscreen refreshed, showing the updated destination. Twenty-nine standard hours and they’d be at the Sunta Nebula where Iskevian Spaceport was located.
Becker nodded a little and a thoughtful frown appeared.
“There’s something I’d like to run by you,” Quinton said.
“All right.”
“It’s about Crowe. Do you think he realizes what he’s doing?”
Becker pursed his lips in thought. “Yes. Even if he didn’t, Carradine would know.”
“Who’s that?”
“Nate Carradine is Crowe’s advisor. They’ve been partners for a long time. He keeps his head and is strategic. Crowe wouldn’t do something like this without Carradine’s input,” Becker said.
“Okay, I’m just trying to understand what Crowe’s doing.”
“There’s been increasing tension with the Collective.”
“I understand that. He could just be doing this to get them to back off.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re not filling me with a whole lot of confidence. If Crowe’s ambitions are to rival the Collective, then he could push his advantage. Meaning that he’ll continue to lure Sentinels to Collective targets and eventually force Draven to surrender.”
“He could just be doing enough damage to the Collective to get them to back off.”
“True,” Quinton said. “But Crowe is also ambitious. If he’s got someone like Carradine advising him, then I think whatever he’s trying to do is more elaborate.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know more about sector politics than I do, but there are power players out there. These attacks are public. Crowe isn’t making a secret of what he can do. He’s only hitting Collective targets, but the risk is shared by everyone if the Sentinels begin another incursion. Draven must be getting pressure from everyone else to negotiate with Crowe.”
Becker nodded slowly. “I see where you’re going. Yeah, I think that’s accurate.” He pressed his lips together and nodded again. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”
Quinton arched an eyebrow. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
Becker grinned a little. “I’m not… not really. But then these attacks would stop. Crowe would account for this in his overall plan.”
“Precisely,” Quinton said. “At first, I thought I’d need to find a way to stop him, but now I’m just thinking that he’ll stop on his own once he gets what he wants.”
“You mean you hope he stops.”
“Well, yeah. If a Sentinel incursion is as bad as you say it is, then Crowe can’t want that. What good is a power grab when the end result is much worse than the current state of affairs? He’s proving a point.”
“And locking in a target on his back. This isn’t going to sit well with anyone.”
“They don’t have a choice.”
Becker sighed and shook his head. “What are you going to do?”
“About Crowe, I’m not sure. I need to find a CDA for Harper.”
“A CDA?”
“Consciousness Driven Android. They were designed for PMC use. It’s either that or another DNA vault.”
“I’ve never come across a CDA. My guess is that the Sentinels destroyed them first, as well as anyone who made them.”
“Maybe they missed a stockpile somewhere.”
Becker looked away a few moments and then turned back toward Quinton.
“This isn’t your problem, Becker. That much is clear.”
Becker looked as if he were going to say something but decided against it and walked away. “We’ll store our weapons in the armory,” he called out over his shoulder as he left the bridge.
Quinton didn’t reply. He looked at their destination on the main holoscreen, feeling a spike of irritation at the thought of Crowe using his identity. How could he stop him? Harper didn’t have time for Quinton to hunt down Crowe and stop the use of his ID. Crowe would no doubt have redundancies in place. Sometimes the best course of action was simply to do nothing, but it went against his instincts. He wanted to do something about it. There had to be a way to take away Crowe’s ability to use Quinton’s PMC credentials to lure the Sentinels.
“Radek, there are some things we need to work on.”
14
Everyone on the Wayfarer’s bridge became quiet. They’d just made the final jump to Iskevian Spaceport located near the Sunta Nebula. The advantage of building a spaceport away from any star systems was that ships were able to jump in relatively close proximity to the spaceport. Even a jump drive with the tiniest of range could jump within a day’s journey. The Wayfarer’s jump drive could bring them nearly on top of it, which is exactly what Quinton intended to do. Becker advised against it. No need to irritate spaceport security. They wouldn’t be there long. The others would fly the shuttle to the spaceport and Quinton would remote-pilot the shuttle back to the ship.
“You can’t be serious, Oscar,” Guttman scoffed.
Oscar ignored him and looked at Quinton, raising his chin. “I’m saying that I’d like to stay on and help you. It’s the least I can do. You’ve saved my life more than a few times. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Quinton replied.
Harper stood on the other side of the bridge near an auxiliary workstation. He’d connected to the ship’s systems using the data port.
“Don’t do this,” Guttman said and gestured toward Becker. “We’re going to be partners. The three of us. We need you with us. Stick with the plan.”
“He’s right,” Becker said.
“We can still be partners. I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Oscar replied.
Becker looked at Quinton.
“This is news to me.”
Becker considered Quinton’s response for a few moments and looked at Oscar. “Anytime, Oscar. You’re always welcome to fly with us. I mean that.”
“Thanks, Becker,” Oscar said and looked at Guttman. “You two take care of each other.”
“You’re insane,” Guttman said and gave Oscar a playful shove.
Becker walked over to Quinton and extended his hand. Quinton shook it. “Good luck, Quinton. Take care of yourself.”
“You, too.”
Becker and Guttman left the bridge, heading for the shuttle.
Quinton walked over to Oscar. “Are you sure about this?”
Oscar smiled. “Already trying to get rid of me?”
“No,” Quinton chuckled. “It’s not that,” he said and glanced toward the doors to the bridge. “They’re not wrong. It’s going to be dangerous. You’re probably better off with them, keeping down low until all this stuff blows over.”
“Maybe, but then again, maybe not.”
Quinton nodded once. “All right, Oscar. Thanks for sticking around.”
Quinton returned to his workstation and sent a standard check-in to Iskevian Spaceport to inform them that they wouldn’t require docking services. Then he sent a flight plan for the Wayfarer’s shuttle where two passengers would disembark.
The docking clamps released the shuttle and Becker flew them to the spaceport.
He put a video feed of the traffic heading to the spaceport on the main holoscreen. They weren’t far from the port, but The Eye of Sunta filled the view. It was a nebula that resembled an angry red eyeball amid a gas cloud that spread hundreds of lightyears across. The fringes were wreathed in pale gold that gradually became an expanse of blue until finally giving way to the crimson central region. Millions of years would need to pass before it might actually become a star, or possibly a brown dwarf. Either way, Quinton wouldn’t be around to see it. Still, it made for a stunning backdrop for the spacers who lived on the spaceport.
“You know, I could have flown them there,” Oscar said.
Quinton snorted. “Are you a glutton for punishment?” Oscar's eyebrows raised a little. “For the next half hour, you’d have had to endure Guttman’s comments about how you just made the biggest mistake of your life.”
“And that I should reconsider… yeah, I know.”
“I can get the shuttle back to the ship.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“I was thinking of Seginus Prime,” Quinton replied.
“Seginus Prime?” Harper said, speaking up for the first time. “I thought we were looking for a DNA vault.”
Quinton had a list of coordinates for possible DNA vault locations he’d gotten from the DUC. When he’d been aboard the Nebulon, they hadn’t checked all the locations. Instead, they’d gone to a set of coordinates that had been locked away in his ESS.
“Not yet,” Quinton replied. “Seginus is home to Golden Taos. They specialize in refurbished droids.”
“Do you think they’ll have CDAs there?” Harper asked.
“CDAs?” Oscar asked.
“CDAs are short for Consciousness Driven Androids. They were designed to host PMCs,” Quinton said and then looked toward Harper. “Probably not, but you never know. What they will have is a service bot that will be a better fit to store your ESS. Then we can search for a DNA vault.”
“How far away is Seginus Prime?” Oscar asked.
“Just a few jumps from here. It won’t take long, which is a good thing.”
“Why is it a good thing?” Harper asked.
Quinton wasn’t going to mislead Harper. “Keeping you in that spider-drone isn’t healthy.”
“It’s not so bad. I’m getting more used to it. Having access to my own VR helps. I’ve made it like I’m remotely operating this old drone,” Harper said.
“Still, Greta’s diagnostic reports are concerning. Operating a spider-drone for the short term is fine, but not for ongoing usage. Degradation is highly probable.”
“I know. I’ve seen my VI’s reports. She doesn’t let me forget it. Degradation leads to instability and the eventual breakdown of the PMC.”
“What about finding Crowe?” Oscar asked.
“I don’t know, Oscar. I spoke to Becker about it. I think Crowe is playing a dangerous game, but I don’t think he intends for it to get out of control,” Quinton said and paused for a few moments. “I’m not sure how to find him. I thought about sending a crafted message through sector comlink channels, but who knows how long that could take.”
“You couldn’t use your credentials, so how would he hear about it?” Harper asked.
“I wouldn’t use mine,” Quinton said and glanced wryly at Oscar. “I could always use Guttman’s.” They shared a laugh. “To answer your question, Harper, by the time any data made its way back to me, Crowe would be long gone.”
“There are higher priorities, such as tracing the activation signals,” Harper said and stopped.
Quinton’s gaze darted to the main holoscreen. The tracking signal for the shuttle disappeared, quickly followed by all inbound and outbound ship traffic from Iskevian Spaceport.
“The ship broadcasts are gone! Where the hell did they all go?” Oscar asked.
Quinton initiated a subspace scan pulse and found the shuttle, but there was a delay and a lot of interference. “It’s still there,” he said and activated the direct laser communicator since subspace was unavailable. “You have to abort. Turn the shuttle around. Come back to the ship. The spaceport is under attack.”
“Can’t get a signal lock. You’re breaking up. Repeat. You’re breaking up,” Becker replied.
Quinton increased the laser comms output and repeated himself. Then he followed up with a data packet and received confirmation of receipt.
