The ready room had been painted orange, green, and blue over the last thirty six years and all three layers of paint had started to peel. The names of long gone crew members had been stenciled over empty suit racks and never removed. Not out of respect, or sentiment, but because Jedidia Jyro didn't care.
The space armor had clocked more than ten thousand hours and was no longer covered by anything other than carefully applied patches. The warranty was little more than a memory, nobody would write a policy on it, and Jyro was broke.That being the case, the prospector ran the diagnostics twice, mumbled "Good girl" when the read outs came up green, and entered the Pelocan's main lock.The name stemmed from the way the vessel was shaped. Unlike many of the ships owned and operated by Jyro's peers, the Pelocan had actually been designed for mining asteroids, which explained the big beaklike bow.Farther back, roughly halfway down the hull, two pylons extended at right anglesThe human shuddered, released his grip on the withered limb, and felt his back hit the inside surface of the chamber. That was where the prospector was, still examining his discovery, when Herbert called. "Sorry to interrupt, but it appears as though a ship is headed our way, ETA three hours, sixteen minutes, and thirty two seconds".Jyro used the Lord's name in conjunction with a swear word, was ashamed of himself, and started over. "Blast! What kind of ship?""Too early to tell", the AI replied. "Looks big, though, judging from the amount of heat".Jyro swore once again. Just his luck... A company ship? Or a pirate? He wasn't sure which he dreaded more. Either would be happy to steal his prize. But not if he could take the drifter aboard, hide among the asteroids, and wait the heathens out.The prospector turned, grabbed hold of the tentacle, and pulled. There was no resistance. The far ends was free. Jyro swore, fired his thrusters, and caromed
There were fewer asteroids now, a fact that allowed Jyro to see his pursuer for the first time. It filed the main screen. He fell through the pit of his stomach. The situation was worse than he had supposed. This construct was as alien as the drifter that occupied his hold, only a lot more frightening!The oncoming vessel had the free-form bulk of a ship never meant for atmospheric use. It consisted of three cylinders, all mounted side by side, and surrounded by a framework of metal. The force field that protected the hull shimmered as rock fragments made contact with it.The human watched aghast as still another asteroid exploded and the alien vessel pushed its way through the resulting debris field.The Pelocan shuddered as alien tractor beams locked onto her hull. The drives screamed as they fought to pull the ship free, and junk avalanched off the control panel.Jyro sat transfixed as garbage tumbled into his lap. The Shem ship, for that's the name
The bar was located near the San Juan spaceport and catered to a wide variety of clientele. Smoke floated above the tables like neon clouds. There were patrons, plenty of them, including a group of cloned spacers, a pair of spindly Dwellers, something in a hab tank and some Cux legionnaires.Dancers, most of whom were humans, writhed within special designed holograms. The music, much of which was alien, throbbed within carefully engineered "sound cells".Legion Colonel Luton Arthur had been wearing uniforms for more than thirty years and felt uncomfortable when clad in anything else. Yes, there was some degree of correlation between civilian clothes and the status of the people who wore them, but you couldn't be sure.Not uniforms, though. Thanks to badges of ranks, service stripes, unit badges, decorations, and yes, the tattoos many choose to wear, a knowledgeable eye could read a legionnaire's uniform like a book. A single glance was sufficient to establ
The office, paid for by the good people of Earth, was enormous. Carefully tended plants stood just so, each in a matching pot, arranged to complement the cane furniture. The early afternoon sun filtered in through gauzy white curtains, a ceiling fan stirred the slightest scented air, and music, one of the arias for which Dwellers were justifiably famous, wafted from unseen speakers.The android looked exactly as she did, and, over a period of time, Governor Sandral Usmos had come to regard the robot as an extension of her own persona. They wore the same kind of clothes, jewelry, and makeup, walked with the same determined strides, and spoke in the same clipped syntax.A clone might have offered a more elegant solution, but would almost certainly object to the role of professional decoy. No, the robot made more sense, and would provide a much needed alibi should anything go wrong. Treason can be dangerous, after all - and is best practiced from the shadows.Sandr
The tone was cheerful, deceptively so, and Quinn responded with that in mind. "I don't blame you for being angry, sir, but I can put things right, and double the company's revenue within the next twelve months".It was an absurd claim, but delivered with such sincerity that Zuon was intrigued. He perched on a corner of the conference table. The sarcasm was obvious. "Really? How fascinating! Tell me more".So Quinn did, starting with the macro socioeconomic situation, and going on to knit the various pieces of the scheme together. Zuon, who didn't impress easily, found himself growing increasingly excited.The plan would not only improve the companies bottom line, but put the screws to Doug Douglas Enterprises, something Zuon had long wanted to do.The industrialist sent Quinn on his way, summoned his secretary staff, and ordered them to disrobe. The clones complied, which was nice for Zuon, and for those scheduled for the pit. Their presentation went off without
A check confirmed that a Midvalian seat frame had been flown in, a top-of-the-line holo tank sat ready for use, and there were plenty of refreshments, including some grublike creatures that wriggled in the bottom of a bowl.The staff, all of whom were androids, would be brain-wiped the moment the meeting was over, reduced to their component parts, and fed into an electric arc furnace. A rather expensive precaution, but necessary nonetheless.It took fifteen minutes to complete the necessary introductions and dispense with the small talk.The guest took their seats, all but the War Vaano that is, who loomed behind Vaano's chair, and stood ready to defend him. It was a relationship that neither one of Midvalians could break, and extended to the Egg Vaano, deep in her distant cave.The group had chosen Governor Usmos to act as moderator, a role that she relished. The politici
Ishimoto-Seven came to his feet. His fingers opened and closed. "I didn't come here to take insults from corporate whores! Perhaps Citizen Quinn would like to take it outside, where I would be pleased to kick his pompous ass!"Usmos started to intervene, but Luton beat her to it. His voice was low but carried to every corner of the room. "Stow the bullshit".The room fell silent as the officer stood and clasped his hands behind his back. His eyes were like lasers and probed the faces around him. "Let's get something straight.... Every damned one of you has an axe to grind. Fine. I accept that. But nothing, I repeat nothing, is going to happen unless my people put their lives on the line and manage to win one hellacious battle."If we survive, if we win, the lot of you can squabble over who gets what, so long as you remember one important fact: We have the weapons, we have the know-how, and we have the final say. Question
That being the case, the major's nervousness was somewhat understandable, even if he was a worthless piece of shit. Paul flipped a switch, consulted a list, and addressed his boom mike. "Transport mike-sierra-vielrot-one-niner-eight, this is Bashu control, over".The reply could be heard on an overhead speaker and had the precise, slightly stilted sound of a voice synthesizer. A sure sign that the pilot was a cyborg. The vast majority of box heads chose to maintain their original genders, and the flight officer was no exception. "This is one-ninety-eight... Go".Paul looked at Lucy. She nodded. "Tell her to return and land in the compound".The noncom relayed the message and monitored the reply. "Sorry, Bashu control, but that's a negative. My number two engine shows yellow, and I need a class three facility or better".Lucy nodded. The fort's pad was rated class four, which meant there were no maintenence functio