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06: Charon
Elena gets a good look at the Charon once she reaches dock 142. The ship is small and looks like an older model. In fact, it looks like parts of at least two older models welded together. The fore part is triangular, large synthetic sapphire windowpanes offering a 180-degree view from the bridge, typical of yachts. But the rounded edges, beige color, and the way the surfaces come together went out of fashion a few decades ago.
The aft of the ship is all business. A bulky cargo hold flanked by two large FTL engines. The paint job is a few shades off from the fore part too, more sand than beige. She notices a thick black streak crossing the top of the cargo hold at an angle, undoubtedly a hit from an energy weapon.
There’s no name marking on the hull as far as she can tell, no “Charon” stenciled on its side. This reinforces her belief she’s dealing with smugglers. Which is perfect for her – she has the credits to buy their services, and they have the experience and discretion she needs for her mission.
She walks up the ramp to the airlock and presses the open button. In a pressurized environment, the airlock acts as a simple door. It slides open and she freezes in place, speechless. Darius greets her with a big smile. She does a double-take, stunned by the impossibility. Lieutenant Darius “Easy” Eze – KIA – Forge peacekeeping mission. Disbelief hits her like a physical blow.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m Captain Barabe. Call me Jaxon.”
She regains her composure, hoping she didn’t let her surprise show. Not Darius but the resemblance is striking. A brother if not a twin. Same intense eyes, same jawline, same height and athletic build.
Jaxon is wearing olive overalls with a white hexagonal logo embroidered on the chest. She hasn’t seen the logo before.
“Elena” she says. They shake hands.
“Welcome aboard!” He smiles again, a big grin. “Mi casa es su casa”. He steps out of the way with an exaggerated after-you gesture. She wonders if he’s always so cordial or just glad he found a sucker willing to pay the exorbitant fee for a short trip trailing.
“Thanks!” She smiles back. “Hey, pardon me asking, did you know a Darius Eze? Lieutenant? You look a lot like someone I knew.”
“No” he says. Thinks about it for a moment. “You’re using past tense. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks” she replies. Then, eager to change the subject, “Interesting name for a ship.”
He doesn’t comment on her remark.
She steps out of the airlock, into a small passageway connecting the bridge to the cargo hold. The opposite wall is uncovered, air ducts and fiber optics on display. Very unlike a passenger ship.
“Let me introduce you to the crew! We’re a small operation, but we have big hearts”.
They enter the bridge. The large windows offer a broad view of the crowded docks. Three people are there. A man, sitting in a chair up front, at the helm; a woman sitting at a console on the side; and an older man, standing.
“This is Rynn, our pilot. We call him Ghost.” Ghost – a lanky man with brown eyes and long slick hair – rises from his chair and extends his hand. She shakes it. He smiles a thin smile, which doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Elena notices he is wearing the same type of overalls as Jaxon. Is that their uniform? He has a tattoo on his neck, the tip of what looks like a wing or a tail disappearing under his collar.
“Terek here is our medic.” Terek, the one standing, is in his late 50s, with salt-and-pepper hair and a full beard. He nods in greeting. He wears a white, wrinkled shirt, and comfortable black pants. When he holds out his hand, she notices a few very faint pink stains on his sleeve.
“Call me Doc” he says.
“And Kaela here is our digital specialist.”
By digital specialist he means hacker. No doubt in her mind now that the Charon isn’t on the up and up. Kaela is a petite woman with spiky blue hair and a wiry frame. She swivels her chair to face Elena, doesn’t bother standing up.
“Nice to meet you!”
Kaela is wearing a vest with embedded circuitry. Extra wearable compute. Elena remembers this being in fashion about the time she was in the Vanguard program. Some of their digital specialists in training wore these as an affectation. They went out of fashion fast, enough compute around to make them just expensive toys. Kaela must have been a toddler around that time, Elena guesses this is a retro look now.
“I’m Elena Drake” she introduces herself to the group. “Thanks for giving me a ride!”
“Of course,” replies Jaxon. “Let me show you to your quarters. It’s not luxurious but should be cozy. Unfortunately, most of the volume is for cargo.”
Meeting the crew makes her feel at ease. They’re genuine, not trying to impress their customer. The mongrel ship, their casual attire and attitudes, none of this looks like a trap she just walked into. Just a bunch of honest smugglers charging her an arm and a leg for a ride to Verdant. She could do worse.
Jaxon walks with her back into the passageway, and into the cargo hold half of the ship. The space is large, a flight of stairs descends to its floor, which is lower than the bridge. There’s a faint smell of spices in the air. It reminds Elena of exotic flavors, fancy dining.
“What are you carrying?” She doesn’t really care to know, but wants to see his reaction.
“Oh, this and that, you know.”
A section of the hold is repurposed for crew quarters. White flexi-walls define six small rooms, three on each side. Further down she sees stacked crates, large barrels, and a couple of large cargo lift drones. The drones are offline, docked and charging. She sees “Abyssal Mining Consortium” on several of the crates. Another one has an unfamiliar, colorful flower-and-leaf logo. Yet another one is covered in graffiti, a drawing of what seems to be a large insect chasing after a group of people. The artwork looks good. Underneath the scene, spray-painted lettering reads “Remember Echo Point”.
Jaxon shows her to a tiny cabin, last small room on the left. Still bigger than the coffin she spent her previous night in, which is perfectly fine for her.
“Here you are. We take off in an hour.”
After the initial shock, she realizes Jaxon doesn’t look as much alike as Darius as she initially thought. Memory is strange – details fade for better compression, fuzzy pattern-matching. Yes, there’s some resemblance, but the overall topology has subtle differences. Details too. Darius had a birthmark on his cheek. Jaxon has some old scars on his chin. Jaxon breaks into a big smile again and she realizes she is staring at him.
“Sorry” she mumbles, “you really remind me of Darius.”
“Were you close?” He asks.
“Very.”
He leaves her to it, closes the door.
She’s only carrying a backpack, so unpacking doesn’t take much time. She does it mechanically, routine drilled into her. She thinks. She’s glad to leave the ring, get to the asset. She’s worried. She translated in thinking she had the upper hand. A fake ID to help her be inconspicuous. But Sector 36 is in a much worse shape than she thought. She didn’t even really get to use her fake ID. Except in the short conversation with Ingram, which thoroughly unsettled her. She was being followed, which could mean her cover is blown from the get-go. What did she walk into? How is she going to get out?
One step at a time, she tells herself. Focus on the mission. Get to Verdant. Retrieve the asset.
They won’t be able to translate out of the sector anytime soon, at least not without help. Once the asset is secured, they need to get to Nova Prime. Her contact at the Obsidian Holdings branch office will provide them with a way out. She gets online, sends him another quick status update. En route to Verdant to evaluate some acquisitions, see you soon.
Primitive cryptography, carrying little information in the noise, but that’s the best they can do.
In a better situation, she would’ve picked up the doctor, return to the ring with him, then translate out on a civilian transport. No way to do that at present, not without help. The mission brief assured her the Spark contact at the branch office can arrange travel. She must rely on him for that. But after witnessing the congestion, she is beginning to have some doubts. How much pull does Spark really have in the sector? There’s not much she can do about it now. It’s Verdant, then Nova Prime.
She has the next two moves planned out. But there are too many unknowns, too many things that can go wrong to feel comfortable. Chess is a game of perfect information. I very much prefer poker. Ingram knows, Ingrams knew everything since the moment she translated in. Hell, before that. Who is she trying to fool? She shudders. Not much she can do about it now. Roll with it and see what happens. What a clusterfuck.
She goes back on the bridge at take-off time. The crew is all there, as before. Rynn at the helm, Kaela at her console. The doctor is seated next to Rynn this time, and Jaxon is standing behind them. He turns as she arrives, and she is again struck by the resemblance to Darius. Ghosts. It will take her a while to get used to this.
“...check” she hears from Rynn. She didn’t catch the first part. “Warp drive – check.” He’s going through the pre-flight checklist.
“Pull anchor” says Jaxon.
The Charon comes to life, steering engines humming. The ship pushes away slowly, sliding between the anchored ships around it. Once it is clear of its neighbors, it spins 180 degrees on its axis, so the view of the docks turns upside down, then blasts straight away from the ring’s center, accelerating through a clear corridor between the many other vessels milling about.
“Wow” Elena is impressed. “How did you get clearance and a flight path so fast?”
“We have our ways,” says Jaxon and winks. “It’s even busier than when we arrived a few days ago.”
Doc whistles.
The Charon zooms by a huge military ship. Its hull is covered with sensor arrays and energy weapon batteries. Elena wonders if it’s the Dauntless – or has it already left for Eureka Base? Her question is answered once they fly by the heavy cruiser’s name marking: Ares. Not the Dauntless after all. Just how much firepower is Ingram amassing in the sector? To what end?
“See the guns on that ship?” asks Kaela.
“You think the Taurans are coming back?” this from Terek, but they all think it. “What else would you need all this firepower for?”
“I heard Taurans aren’t real” says Rynn. “Just a made-up excuse to enact martial law.”
Jaxon laughs at that. “Who’ve you been drinking with on the ring man?”
“They’re absolutely real.” Kaela is not amused at all. “Don’t even joke about it.”
“Sorry” says Rynn.
They fall quiet. Elena is confused by the strange exchange but lets it go.
The Charon keeps moving, spins once more as it adjusts bearings towards Verdant. They get one last view of the Gateway Ring, fading into the green tapestry of the Viridian Shroud, a noodle-thin circle from their current vantage point, orbiting a now coin-sized satellite. The ships are too far away to see with the naked eye, even the imposing Ares is no more than a dot. They move out from behind the shadow of the planet around which the ring’s moon orbits, into sunlight.
“Going warp” announces Rynn.
“Aye Ghost” acknowledges Jaxon.
The FTL engines come online. The ship accelerates to relativistic speed, their vista freezing in place.
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