After months of scrambling,
disappointments, dead ends, and what seemed like plain, old, bad
luck, they had hit what appeared to be a jackpot of a job. Tray
Porthos, captain of the Mk IV Firefly class freighter Tsunami,
received a wave over the Cortex from Mr. Xue, a notoriously nefarious
job broker and disreputable businessman based out of Booty Bay, about
an untouched derelict in a remote sector and his broker’s fee was
minimal – just one, specific supply container and the need for
utmost discretion and timeliness. It wasn’t often you came across
virgin derelicts with full crop, food, and medical supply manifests,
though, so the need for silence and speed was a no-brainer. As soon
as word got out, vultures from across several systems would be out to
scavenge the dead for anything that was worth a damn.
Of course Tray didn’t ask questions,
so he didn’t know how Xue may have come across such prime
information, or even why the normally steep broker’s fee was so
light. In his line of business, you didn’t look a gift horse in the
mouth, you certainly didn’t ask inconvenient questions - not if you
wanted to ever get another job, anyway – and you most definitely
didn’t ask questions when the person answering was someone as
sinister as Mr. Xue. All told, the job was big enough to warrant
hiring on more crew, and would still have them all sitting pretty for
a good, long while.
Given the short notice of the job, he
grabbed what folks were around and looking for work out of Booty Bay:
Mikie Rhiadra and Davion Holmeforth. It wasn’t a full crew, but it
was enough, and his pilot, Imrhien Fargis, knew full well how to fly
under the radar in order to keep anybody from getting curious, which
would hopefully buy them the time they needed. Tray and Imrhien had
decided not to give any details to either until they were well
underway. It wasn’t that Mikie and Davion couldn’t be trusted,
but you never knew who
might say the wrong thing to the wrong person
in passing thinking it was harmless, and as the old saying goes,
“loose lips sink ships.”
The journey out to the derelict was
uneventful. Not wanting to raise any eyebrows, or run into any
predators picking off the ships straying off the beaten path, Imrhien
kept Tsunami in regular shipping lanes until she could deviate her
course without notice. It wasn’t until they came upon the derelict,
a hulking freighter that easily dwarfed the firefly, that any hint of
unease took root in any of their guts.
Set lazily adrift in the void of space,
she was spinning very slowly on all three axes, suggesting there was
no power in the ship, and that the distant gravity well of the nearby
gas giant had begun needling the vessel, sluggishly drawing her
lifeless bulk toward her ultimate destruction in the embrace of its
crushing pressure. There was no evident physical damage to the
exterior hull, and so it was suggested that the ship had lost power
and her occupants had abandoned her. It would have had to have been
with assistance, as both of her shuttles were both still nestled into
their docking platforms against her massive underbelly.
After a bit of calculating and a
frightful amount of gut instinct, Imrhien had managed to dock Tsunami
with the derelict, and with much groaning protest from both ships, as
well as her three passengers, stabilized the nauseating spin of the
larger craft. She remained on the bridge to monitor the conditions of
both ships, as well as keep an eye on their surroundings. Just in
case. Tray, Mikie, and Davion had moved down to the cargo hold to
suit up in EVA gear as soon as their pilot’s eyeball-jarring
maneuvers had ceased. So far, things were going better than they
could have hoped.
As expected, they had to manually work
the airlock doors of the dead craft open. Once inside, no one was
surprised to find the life support and artificial gravity control
systems offline. They scouted the cargo hold, finding a veritable
wealth of crates, thankfully secured and seemingly undamaged. The
freight was all stacked neatly, tied down, and obviously organized.
Imrhien listened over the com channel as they scanned the cargo
manifest and, despite the pervasive feeling of dread, settled in for
a boring few hours nailed to the consoles. It wasn’t until they
moved further into the ship in order to seek out some clue about what
happened and how to restore power that it became quite evident
something was very wrong. In the darkness, broken up only by the
twinkling of console lights and screens, she heard the change in
their breathing. Now they were gasping, breathing rapidly, raggedly,
with a few tinny curses and quiet exclamations.
“Uh, y’all okay in there?”
Mikie was the one who responded.
“Deadpan, keep an eye out for trouble. Everyone on this boat’s
dead, and it wasn’t from natural causes.” That feeling of dread
that had taken hold increased tenfold, just based on the fact that
Mikie had used her old pilot callsign.
On the derelict, none of the three of
them could really have envisioned a more gruesome scene. They had
come out of the cargo bay and into a recreational room. Bodies
littered the space, no doubt disturbed from where they’d fallen as
their artificial gravity had been cut off. Some were riddled with
bullet holes. Others had been stabbed. One woman had her throat slit
open. Blood was everywhere; smeared, pooled, even droplets hanging in
space. The only sounds were from their own, ragged breathing.
What had done this? Or who, was more
likely. The obvious answer was Reavers, who came and killed and left.
But Reavers didn’t use guns. Pirates would have taken the cargo and
anything else of value, yet the hold was brimming with unmolested
goods. The pirate activity on the rim had definitely increased at an
alarming rate in recent months, but this didn’t fit the pattern at
all. Was it some kind of hit? The unanswered questions loomed
ominously over them.
As captain, it was Tray’s call, and
he made it. “We get the power back on to run interior lights and
artificial gravity so we can work faster, we get the cargo, and we
get the hell out of here. There’s nothing we can do to help these
people right now, but we got hired on for this job, so we have to do
what we came here for. Dav, you come with me to track down the engine
room. Mikie, you double back and get Tsunami’s the cargo bay sealed
off so we can open up the airlocks and pass freely between ships.
It’d be nice to work without these suits on, but I don’t relish
the idea of finding out what atmo might smell like in here.” Nobody
argued.
After sealing off the cargo hold to
maintain the integrity of the atmosphere throughout the rest of the
Firefly and opening a clear path between the two airlocks, Mikie was
able to utilize some of Tsunami’s artificial gravity to begin
maneuvering two pallet jacks into place. Once Tray and Davion
returned with reports of more of the same carnage throughout the
ship, followed by the evidence of the derelict’s power kicking back
to life, the fluorescent bulbs lining the ceiling of the bay
flickering on, they were able to begin working. Unlashing each pallet
of freight, they moved quickly to work out a system, loading it on a
hauler and carting it back to their ship with a speed borne of stark
fear and hopeful desperation.
Meanwhile, having been fully apprised
of the situation, Imrhien moved around the bridge, scanning the dark,
as well as familiarizing herself with their location. The gas giant
was the closest planetary body, looming somewhere beyond the bridge’s
viewport, but definitely within visual range. They were far enough
out in rim territory that there were no known settlements even
remotely proximate to their position. It was enough to give her a
small measure of reassurance that it was unlikely anyone might happen
across their path, at least not accidentally.
Still… This was an untouched
derelict, its existence, condition, and position were known, at least
in parts of the shady underground. How long would it be before some
authority came around looking for this freighter, with her tens of
thousands of credits worth of cargo, which had never made it to her
destination? How long had she been out here? How long had her crew
been corpses? Who was missing this shipment of supplies? Do we
have a solid alibi if we get caught pulling salvage?
And somewhere, there were the more
troubling questions. What had these people, these cold, dead,
slaughtered people had to endure? Why were they dead? Did they
deserve this? Shouldn’t we take the time to give them a proper
burial? But that last question was easily answered: No. When they got
back, they could alert someone, get the word down the wire to make
sure they were laid to rest properly, but it was too risky to do it
here and now, lest they be discovered and blamed for all the murders.
Long, tense minutes ticked by
uneventfully, slowly mounting into anxious hours. Imrhien longed to
be down there lending a hand, at least to fill that long stretch of
silence with physical labor as opposed to sitting back and waiting.
The others probably wouldn’t have minded the break. She knew,
though, that if something did happen, she needed to be here on the
bridge so that she would have time to react intelligently to a new
situation, as opposed to scrambling wildly. Still, the uneventful
passage of time as they hauled more and more of the cargo on board
gave them all a steadily increasing sense of relief.
As if on cue, when they were three
quarters of the way finished and their guard had almost entirely
dropped, a blip popped up on Tsunami’s sensor screens, triggering a
soft alarm. Imrhien cursed loudly, scanning her consoles for any and
all information on the incoming vessel, size, type, and their
direction of travel, even as she voiced into her com, “We’re
‘bout to have company. Whoever’s comin’s makin’ a beeline for
us, and they ain’t doin’ it slow.”
On the derelict, Tray began shouting
orders. “Mikie, Dav, get back to the ship now. We’re leaving.”
Everything was dropped, the remaining quarter of the cargo abandoned,
and equipment rushed back to Tsunami’s cargo bay. As soon as
everyone and everything was accounted for, Tray palmed the com panel
just inside the cargo bay from the airlock, calling up to the bridge,
“We’re back, Imrhien. Get us the hell out of here.”
Once she had the all clear, Imrhien
sealed off the airlocks and blew the docking seal, using attitude
thrusters to clear the derelict enough to swing the Firefly around.
She knew any ship that could come up on them that quickly was likely
significantly more advanced and would not only be able to detect that
they’d been there, but also easily be able to track and apprehend
them.
Proper planning does, as it turns out,
prevent piss poor performance, as well as awkward and uncomfortable
situations, such as trying to explain to some authority force why you
were docked with a derelict craft full of dead bodies and expensive
cargo. By the time she was positioned to move, Tray, Mikie, and
Davion were on the bridge, watching tensely through the viewport.
Hitting a few buttons and flipping one switch, Imrhien sent her plan
into action, casting off one very small and hopefully undetectable
item before proverbially putting the petal to the metal and hauling
off at full burn toward the distant gas giant. Data poured down her
screens, readings from the planet before her, as well as regarding
the approaching ship. Halfway to her intended destination, she hit
another series of switches, which resulted in a loud metallic
clanking for a few seconds. Tray quickly scanned the various displays
and gauges. He thought he knew every squeak, rattle and groan his
ship was capable of making, but this one was new. While alarming, he
kept his concern to himself; he knew that Imrhien was in ‘the
zone,’ as it were, and he was not going to do anything to break her
concentration.
Once she’d found what she was looking
for on the planet, the furthest magnetic pole from the derelict site,
and had adjusted trajectory, Imrhien killed power to Tsunami, keeping
only life support systems online as she guided the firefly toward the
blind spot with the intent that they would leave less of a heat or
particle signature for their pursuers to chase. Also, just in case
her first plan didn’t work, not leaving a trail straight to their
hiding spot could give her a few moments to figure something else
out. Or run.
--
The Federation
vessel, USS Heinlen, had slowed on their approach to the derelict.
The order to go investigate a report of a ship stranded at these
coordinates had, so far, been legitimate. The captain was worried,
given that there had been another ship docked to the craft in
question, but it had fled upon the Federation ship’s arrival. It
meant that this other ship was probably up to no good. If there were
crew and passengers on the stranded vessel, they might be in need of
medical attention.
The Starfleet captain ordered a full
scan of the damaged freighter. The fact that his crew reported back
that there were no life signs onboard was terribly worrisome. It made
the decision to leave the derelict to pursue the fleeing ship much
easier. Based on their scans, the vessel was somewhat substandard
technology for the human civilizations in nearby systems, a firefly
transport. It was obvious that the ship was heading for the gas giant
to hide, probably in one of the magnetic fields. Those ships lacked
any kind of FTL capability, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to
apprehend it. Ordering his own ship to follow their course for
intercept, he settled back into his chair, wondering what exactly
they were going to find. His gut told him nothing good.
A series of small explosions shuddered
against the hull as the net of photon flash-bang grenades Imrhien had
left behind annihilated. It wasn’t enough to do any damage, or even
give them any turbulence – they made a loud boom and a blinding
light – but it had triggered an alarm. The captain looked around,
the fact that all of the sensors were down took a moment to sink in.
--
“You weaponized my ship without
telling me?” Captain Tray Porthos exclaimed. He couldn’t decide
whether he wanted to strangle his pilot or kiss her, but decided that
either course of action would be extraordinarily dangerous.
Imrhien simply smiled, shrugging. “Like
hell I was gonna go flyin’ ‘round the ‘verse in a defenseless
boat. Anyhow, ain’t like I broke their ship or nothin’, prol’ly
didn’t even scratch her. Flash-bangs just play merry hell with
their sensors. They’ll be blind for a bit while we hide in the
magnetic field o’ the pole o’ this handy planet here.” Mikie
was laughing, already having figured out what Imrhien’s plan was.
Davion looked a bit pale, but chuckled with reassurance from Mikie’s
obvious mirth.
Tray shook his head slowly. “Right,
because they’ll never think to look for us behind the gorram
planet, let alone hiding in its magnetic field!”
Rolling her eyes, but still kept most
of her attention on her instruments, watching. “Would you relax,
Cap’n? They ain’t comin’ over here. They’ll haul off here in
a few minutes, ‘n we can get the hell outta dodge.”
“How in the nine hells do you know
that?” her captain queried, his calm demeanor starkly contrasting
with his question.
--
The captain of the USS Heinlen was
experiencing a moment of anger, as well as a sardonic sort of
sympathy for their quarry while he paced the bridge, waiting for
their sensors to come back online. If that was the best they could do
to throw a Federation ship off their trail… Especially if they
thought it had any chance of working…
Finally, he heard, “Captain, the
sensors are clearing, but I’m picking up a distress signal from a
ship approximately a half of a light year from our location…”
Sighing, he ordered his ship to make
all haste to assist the distressed ship. Despite being just about
positive this was a decoy to draw them away, there were regulations,
and he had to follow them. A ship in trouble trumped chasing down a
ship of potential pirates. He would just have to track them down
later using their scan logs.
--
“That’ll be a story to tell the
grandkids: How we narrowly outfoxed a Starfleet ship using only
flash-bang grenades and a crybaby.” Davion was still chuckling once
they were well out of hot water and safely camouflaged in regular
shipping lanes. All of them were still trying to shake off the
tension.
With her course set, Imrhien had turned
navigational controls over to autopilot in order to join the others
in the cargo bay. The four of them stood around the crate that Tray
had found and dug out. They had agreed that they definitely needed to
find out more about what was going on here, and the best place to
start was inside the container that Xue had sent them after in the
first place.
“We need to know what it is,” Tray
began, “But there’s a good chance somebody already tried to frame
us for killing all those folks. How can we be sure this thing isn’t
wired with enough explosives to blow us back to Earth That Was set to
go off as soon as we crack the lid on it? Maybe the crate’s
insurance that we’re outta the way, one way or another.”
“Less we gotta worry ‘bout if we do
explode.” Imrhien lifted up a crowbar and smacked it against the
plywood shell. “But I don’t reckon that’s gonna blow.” She
glanced over at Mikie, who was also brandishing a crowbar, and arched
an eyebrow. “What’cha think ‘bout this?”
Mikie answered by ramming the blade of
the crowbar under the wooden lid. “I think Xue wouldn’t betray
me. I also think if he wanted to kill or torture us, he wouldn’t
send us out and have the authorities do it; he’d want to do it
himself. And given who’s in this ship right now, framing us and
turning us over to the authorities would be an incredibly stupid move
on his part. Xue ain’t stupid, so this ain’t a bomb.” Imrhien
had also jammed her crowbar under the lid, and together, they pried
it open enough for Tray and Davion to strongarm it the rest of the
way off.
A container lay nested within, a large
metal tube that looked frighteningly like a missile, but without any
kind of propulsion system attached. A line of clear material ran
across the top, the inner sides of each pane lightly frosted around
the edges. The four of them leaned in to investigate further. Inside
the metal container were two bodies. Both appeared to be alive,
sleeping, maybe frozen, but definitely in some kind of stasis.
“Oh Jesus,” Imrhien said, arching
back from the container, her face pale.
“What the hell, Xue’s buying bodies
now?” Davion lowered himself to get a closer view.
“Like he’s never done that before,”
Mikie snorted. “Man ain’t got the morals of a hungry tomcat.”
“So, we’re trafficking humans?
That’s what this is about?” Tray asked.
Imrhien folded her arms across her
chest and stepped back up to the crate. “I’m pretty sure this
ain’t a slave trade thing, y’all. It’s way worse.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Tray furrowed his brow at her.
“’Cause that,” Imrhien said
quietly as she pointed at one of the bodies, “is Jo Massenberg.”
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