Chapter 8

The Patricians Star drifted past the gas giant Aegir, the largest gas giant in the system, toward Epsilon Eridani. Aside from the old Greek numbering designation that hasn’t changed since the second century, the star and the large gas giant were named Ran and Aegir by a class of school children back in the beginning of the twenty-first century. Aegir, an ancient Norse god of the sea, was aptly named as we watched the blue and green hydrogen and helium storms swirl and spin about the surface of the sphere. Ran, the Norse god’s wife, shone brightly in the distance and seemed to flicker as our destination slid in front of it. Epsilon Eridani Delta, the fourth planet out, named Siva by its team of terraforming engineers because it became lush, fertile life out of nothing.

The Cyrillic Corp terraforming team that named the planet had done so against the Nordic naming convention that had already been established and named the planet they changed after their own cultural heritage, Siva, an all but forgotten ancient Slavic deity of fertility, life, and growth. Epsilon Eridani Delta had been a dead planet, a spinning rock with a strong magnetosphere, plenty of component minerals, but almost no hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, helium, or most of the component gasses you find in almost every atmosphere.

Many scientists have theorized that a near collision with a very fast moving body, such as a lost planet or even a micro-star, swept near enough the planet to pull off most of the atmosphere and bring it further out into a larger orbit. This theory is supported by the relatively slow orbiting speed, non-uniform ecliptic orbit, and the barely detectable gas ring around Ran itself; although this gas ring is expected to completely dissipate in another two or three million years.

It took a team of scientists almost a century to make the planet habitable, bombarding it with gasses from nearby gas giants until it had a sufficiently dense, breathable atmosphere. They then seeded it with bacteria and algae, which quickly grew over the entire planet. The growth/death cycle of the algae and bacteria were so fast that, in less than fifty years, the planet was covered in green algae, brown humus, and blue water. The team started planting a carefully crafted ecosystem, much of which was maintained by nanites and micro-drones, which replaced a lot of the functions of natural insects and wildlife. Siva is now considered a man-made paradise.

The Patrician’s Star slid into a commercial docking berth on the spine of the space station and star port Nova Horizon; the only large, permanent station orbiting planet Siva; perpetually in her shadow so as to hide from Ran’s harsh radiation and frequent solar flares. Nova Horizon was named thus because it started its life as the control and management site for the terraforming project of Siva and is still mostly owned by the Cyrillic Corp, even though almost nothing of the original station remains.

The commercial docking gantries extended off the central spindle and thus have no simulated gravity. Had we been in a smaller craft we would have been able to dock at one of the private gantries that litter the outside of the habitat ring, which would put us in line and spin with the habitat ring and the motion would provide us with simulated gravity. But the Patrician’s Star was too big, so I floated out of the ship into the boarding tunnel, Master Rica behind me with Tami and Captain Nesmith.

I opened the portal on the far side of the tunnel and slipped out, watching the entire loading zone in a single pass. There was no one close, no surprise; the next docking port was a hundred meters away on any side. Both of these berths were full of activity as load lifters moved large cargo containers on and off the ships. I used the lip of the hatch to spin myself around into a bow and hold the portal open for the others.

My suspicions jumped when I noticed the pickup taxi was not here. As I was about to call the taxi service to see where our car was, it floated down from above, its smooth, white, hemisphere shape reflecting the docking area around it so well it was almost camouflaged. The side slid open and Master Rica, Tami, and Nesmith all drifted into the cabin, barely noting my existence. I closed the hatch gently with a bow then drifted into the cabin of the vehicle next to Master Rica and across from Tami.

The taxi was made for luxury. Computer-controlled, so there was no driver, it was just a large round cabin with incredibly comfortable seats of supple leather and a center console featuring a small, and simple, auto-tender ready to mix drinks for the occupants. I wasted no time and ordered an aged Pete Whisky from the auto-tender for Master Rica, who took it without a word or note, continuing his conversation with the Captain as he sipped the liquor.

The others talked about how good it was to be back in the Ran system, and how good it will be to be down well again. I listened to them as I organized shuttle flights to the closest space elevator and was already setting up meetings for the days to come; once my Master was back on the ground.

In fact, there were so many queued messages for Master Rica I barely had time to go through all of them, listening to the audio messages while reading the text messages at the same time, before we got to the habitat ring and our accommodations for the night. Although, ‘night’ didn’t really fit even though it was still technically the night cycle on the station. Master Rica’s home and headquarters on Siva was currently on the day side. The station itself was also permanently in the shadow of the planet, using Siva as an effective radiation blocker since Ran was prone to large solar flares and radiation spikes.

Our queue slot for the elevator was eleven o’clock station time tomorrow morning which would put us at about twenty-two hundred local time on planet. Elevator travel time was only about ninety minutes down, which is not too bad, although I have a feeling customs will be much longer since our group involves a large number of soldiers and armaments.

A quick query of the station’s computers informed me that the local laws required all weapons being brought onto the planet be licensed with the planetary law enforcement service. Licensing the weapons would require serial numbers, ballistic printing, and a minimum of a twenty-eight days holding. Luckily since the station was not part of the planet and was a corporate holding of Cyrillic Corp. the laws here were much more lenient; anything powerful enough to punch through the outer hull was strictly prohibited, otherwise as long as the weapon was registered somewhere and the license could be retrieved, it was legal. That meant most side arms were legal to carry.

That just wouldn’t do. After the fees, it would be cheaper just to purchase new ones for the soldiers on the planet. I created an order to have all of the soldiers store their weapons in their drop ship. And started digging out contacts to purchase new weapons on the planet. Tami would have made this a bit easier; I’m sure she had personal experience with the weapon manufacturers on the planet. I used my cortex to scan through an enormous number of reviews and testimonials until I had narrowed it down to two suppliers. I used one for ammunition and the other for the armaments.

Master Rica had left me orders to allow all the soldiers two weeks Paid R&R on planet. Then, the marines would enter the primary security force as a tactical unit. The pilots were being split up: half were going to one of Master Rica’s mining operations to defend against possible pirate attacks and the other half would stay on planet, on indefinite loan to the Planetary Air Defense. The tax write-off on the pilots, fighters, and armaments that were being loaned to the PAD would almost cover their initial cost of them despite the fact the local government is only paying for half of their salaries. The dropship is going to be stored in long-term storage dock with thousands of other storage and shipping containers, floating in a tight, organized cluster about ten thousand kilometers from the station. Since it will be a fully armed assault vehicle, I decided to have some extra security measures installed on it.

We exited the taxi in front of a very nice-looking hotel, with the front all glass from floor to ceiling of the habitat ring. I moved ahead of everyone, watching everything, and opened the door to the hotel. Glancing around the opening, I felt my stomach turn, and I couldn’t immediately tell why. There were only three people in the lobby: an attendant at the counter, a man sitting in the waiting area to the left of the doors, and another using a public terminal on the wall to the right of the door. I bowed, holding the door open for the Master, trying to push my anxiety down, and pin it as me just being jumpy. After all, the last time I saw anyone not an employee of Master Rica, they were shooting at me.

And then my feelings were justified. As Master Rica walked in front of me through the doorway, I watched the man in the waiting area stand up and pull a weapon from the inside of his coat. I did not wait to see more. I sent Tami a cortex message to get Master Rica back to the car as I jumped in front of him, pushing him back, and hurled a reasonably-sized potted plant from beside the door at the shooter.

Tami was dragging her half-brother back toward the taxi and had pulled a small handgun from her underarm holster. There was racketing report as she fired three shots into the wall near the person at the public terminal who had also pulled a weapon out but was now diving for cover instead of firing.

I pulled a thin knife that had been hidden in the side of my dress, much the same way that Master Mary had hidden her switch. Although I never saw her draw them, I am certain she also carried a few knives, hidden the same way as mine. The woman behind the counter fired three whistling gauss needles at us, the blue glow of the projector field giving the muzzle of the pistol an eerie sci-fi feel to it. With a quick snap of my arm, I had thrown the knife at her before I even acknowledged the shots. It was good I was standing where I was, as the shots were in perfect line for Master Rica, but luckily, instead, they buried themselves uselessly in me.

I felt a strange stabbing and popping sensation as the point two-millimeter needles penetrated my dress and skin and hit my ribs with enough force to shatter one; embedding bone and metal in my right lung. There was then a warm pulsing sensation as blood seeped from the wound, spreading out across the front of my dress and changing it from black and white to black and crimson.

A second later I was pushing past Tami into the cab as she returned fire a last time around the door frame before I closed the door.

Master Rica was unhurt and already on a call with local station security. I spared a second to look at Tami and Captain Nesmith; both appeared to be fine. Tami was saying something but I ignored her and joined the call to Security with my cortex, “I don’t know, people were shooting at me,” Master Rica sounded very annoyed.

“Excuse me, sir, allow me to handle this,” I told Master Rica, who simply nodded and took the drink I was handing him from the auto-tender. “To whom am I speaking,” I asked onto the call. There was no video being displayed in the taxi. Either Master Rica hadn’t started a video call or it was being blocked from the other side.

“This is Sergeant Stansfield of Habitat District Twenty-Two.” A young man, it did not sound like he had held the rank very long.

“Sergeant, I am Mary, Asuna Rica’s personal attaché and body guard. We were attacked by three persons at the entrance of the Hyatt Hotel Skylark in your district. I am sending you images of the attackers’ faces from my cortex, please be ready to receive data over this line.”

“Yes, ma’am.” There was silence as I sent them, which should have taken less than a second, but it still took him a while to respond. “Okay, I’ve got them.”

“Good,” I said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “You should send Officers of the Peace to the hotel as quickly as possible; although I’m sure the perpetrators will be gone.” I paused for a second to let him respond. “The one in the hotel uniform was hit with a knife in the left arm, nothing more than a flesh wound, but it should help in tracking her.”

“Yes, thank you for the information. I will send some officers to bring you into protected custody.” He was starting to sound much surer of himself.

“No. Thank you for the offer, but I’m taking my employer to a secure location. Once he is secured, I will send word to your office and you can send an officer by to take our statements.”

He stumbled over his tongue for a moment, then said, “Yes, ma’am, as you say.” I disconnected the call.

“Tami, where are we heading?” I asked.

“What the hell, Mary?” She was sitting next to me and I realized she was holding a towel to my right breast with both hands; the towel had changed from white to a rusty red colour. “You could be bleeding out and you want to know where we’re going?”

I couldn’t feel my right side, and couldn’t even move my right arm at the moment. The nanites had pushed so many numbing agents and pain killers into my system I probably could have fallen from orbit and not felt it. A quick diagnostic check from my cortex showed some pretty extreme damage. The entrance wounds had clotted; there were no exit wounds. Gauss weapons often didn’t punch all the way through since they are so low mass, all the damage comes from the speed of the projectile. Once the needle hits an object, all that force gets absorbed by the target, causing considerable damage, but there just isn’t enough mass to carry it through if it hits anything denser than soft tissues.

“We are heading to the Toshiba Hotel across the ring, should be there in about fifteen minutes,” Tami said reluctantly.

“Good,” I said, and laid my hand on hers, gently moving them off the towel pressed to my chest. “You can let go, it’s clotted. I’ll be fine till we can get me to a doctor.”

Tami sat back and muttered, “Fuck.” She leaned forward and got a drink from the auto-tender. “What the fuck was that?”

“Probably retribution from Cyrillic Corp. This is their station.”

“Hmm,” said Captain Nesmith, “it is basically their planet.”

“True,” I said looking over to him. “Cyrillic Corp, in one way or another, holds almost sixty percent of all business on the planet.” I sat back and used my cortex to have my nanites produce a stimulant; I was starting to feel my head cloud from the painkillers they were pumping into me.

“Holy fuck-shit, I am an idiot,” Tami announced and spun around, dragging the back of her seat out from the wall. I found the drugs were affecting me negatively; I almost informed her she was correct in her assessment. But I managed to hold my tongue.

She came back around with a white box emblazoned with a large red cross in a shield. “All automated vehicles are required to carry basic medical supplies.”

Master Rica nodded. “Yes, of course they are. I’m sorry for not thinking about that.” He was doing a good job of hiding it, but Master Rica was shaken. His hand trembled just enough to require him to rest his glass of whisky on his knee and his jaw was clenched tight. I wonder if anyone had made an attempt on his life before. I would need to look that up once we were at his compound.

Tami popped the box open and a message flashed across the auto-tender that the cost of the medical kit was being charged to our account. I almost protested at that, but again stopped myself. It would be good for morale that something was being done; something to focus on that seemed like help.

First thing Tami pulled out was an ampule of painkillers, but I shook my head and she put it back with a frown. Second, much more useful, was a heavy dose of antibiotics. I nodded and she reached across and stabbed the injector into the wound. I felt it, even through the ever-deepening fog of painkillers. The pain was fairly extreme and made me wince as a bit of blood started to seep out again.

She threw the injector back into the box, spent, and pulled out a can with a short horn-shaped nozzle on the front. It was spray bandage, also known as foam-skin. It’s basically foam adhesive that is antimicrobial and that hardens into a durable shell, being water resistant and flexible enough for the wearer to move around in. It also breaks down cleanly and easily with ethanol. It is not recommended to apply to a person who has been drinking: if their blood-alcohol level is high enough, it may cause the bandage to break down and not stop the bleeding.

Using a pair of sterile scissors from the box, she cut away the material around the wound, pulling it off with a soft ripping noise and quickly spraying the area with the foam to stop the fresh bleeding. “There we go,” Tami said as she put the medical box aside, “I hope that helps.”

It probably wouldn’t, and didn’t need to be done, but all I said was, “Thank you,” and bowed as deeply as I could in the seat.

We reached the new hotel and I had the taxi circle the block once before pulling up into the back. Tami and I moved out first. I stayed by the taxi and Tami went into the hallway. We were electronically checked in, so all we needed to do was get up to the suite on the fifth floor.

“Clear here,” Tami sent by cortex message. I opened the door to the cab and motioned Master Rica and Captain Nesmith out and across the short distance to the door which Tami was holding open for them. I followed up the rear, letting the door bang closed behind us as we turned and went up the stairs. Elevators have no escape routes; they were just too dangerous at the moment.

Soon we were safely at our rooms. The suite was larger than I expected and I had Rica and Nesmith wait in the entryway while Tami and I quickly checked each room. Aside from the two washrooms, there were five rooms in the suite: a sitting room, three bedrooms, and a small kitchen.

I seated everyone in the sitting room and headed to the kitchen to see what was available for refreshments, but Tami ordered me to sit down while she took care of that. I tried to argue through a cortex message that I was fine and it was to perform my duties, but she would hear nothing of it. She ordered me to contact the ship and update them to our location, and the same with the local security office.

I sat and it took less than a moment to inform the ship and command crew of what was going on and to message Station Security about our location and request they send an Officer of the Peace to take our statements. Sergeant Stansfield informed me that two officers would be on their way shortly. I also contacted a local medical service and ordered some in house care for a serious, non-life threatening injury. The web form asked the nature of the injury, and I just entered damage to ribs and lungs. I was given a queue time of about thirty minutes, which seemed like far longer than necessary.

I was just about to get up and help Tami, regardless of what she wanted, when there was a knock at the door. Tami came out of the kitchen with her gun out, checked the magazine, then nodded toward the door. I politely requested that Master Rica and Captain Nesmith head into the Master bedroom.

I looked through the door security camera and saw an Officer of the Piece in his white and blue uniform with red shoulder braid standing in front of the door. “Who is it?” I asked through the door, feigning ignorance in my voice. The drugs may have had me over affect my voice because Tami rolled her eyes at me.

“This is Officer Charlie of the Twenty-Second District. I was ordered over to take some statements about an event that happened earlier.”

Something was wrong; we were told there would be two officers. “Where’s your partner?” I asked.

“Just me, Ma’am, you want to let me in so we can get this over with?” His voice was bored impatience.

“Please hold your credentials up to the camera so I can verify your registration number.”

He raised his ID up to the camera and I started to lean forward in front of the monitor to read it when I had a gut feeling and threw myself back just as he pulled out his side arm and fired three shots through the wall just below the monitor and a fourth shot into the doorframe and lock, blowing it apart. He then rushed the door, shoving it open and firing at Tami, who ducked back behind the corner of the wall where she had been waiting.

I jumped forward and slipped a knife out and up his side. He screamed as it bit flesh at his hip but caught in his ballistic vest just a little above. His hand came back and hit me with the butt of the gun on the side of my head. My vision exploded in stars as I staggered back against the wall.

There was a loud triple report as Tami stepped out and put two rounds into his center of mass, staggering him back as the vest absorbed the impact, then she put a third into his forehead. His head snapped back, spraying brain matter, and he fell to the floor.

“Thank you,” I said, and Tami nodded, replacing the magazine. I immediately used my cortex and ordered a suite of rooms one more floor up, put it under a new alias, and registered it to The Patrician’s Star’s security key. “Take Master Rica and Captain Nesmith out the fire exit and up to the next floor. I have reserved another suite up there.” She nodded and moved off without a word.

I contacted the ship and ordered five of the marines, with light body armour, no tactical suits, and side arms only, to the hotel. I didn’t tell anyone anything else.

Soon, the real officers were here. They came in with weapons drawn, one yelling at me to lay down with my hands interlaced on the back of my head. The other one was calling in an “Officer Down” and requesting backup and medical support.

I did as was told and lay down, trying to explain what was going on, but they weren’t listening. One of them dropped on my back, cracking a bit of the foam cast as it ground into the carpeting. A small cry of pain escaped my lips as they pulled me back up, handcuffed me, and shoved me out into the hall.

Then the backup arrived, several more officers, a couple paramedics, and a man in plain clothes that had an air of authority around him. “Officer, what’s going on here?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet, sir.” The officer that handcuffed me waved generally in my direction as he spoke. “We came up to take some statements about the hotel shooting in twenty-two and found this.”

The man, who I assumed was a detective, looked at me and noticed the blood oozing out of the crack in my foam bandage. “Did she resist in any way?”

“No, sir.”

“Ma’am, can you explain what happened?” Then, before I could respond, “Are you okay?”

“No, sir. I may have a concussion and I have a severe injury from the other hotel.”

“I see, sit down.” I slid down the wall into a sitting position. “And you,” he pointed to the officer that was just speaking, “get her some water.”

Once I had water in my hand and a medic was running a medical scanner over my chest, he asked again, quietly and respectfully, “Now, what’s going on?”

“This man,” I tilted my head toward the body in the doorway, “said he was an Officer of the Peace. When I asked for his credentials, he started shooting. It was luck and good reflexes that he missed.”

The detective nodded, “Can you prove this?”

“Yes, sir, the hallway surveillance should show you and I can send you the recording from my cortex unit.”

“Very good.” He motioned to another officer who came over with a breaker box and data storage unit. He gently pressed the contact over the cortex port on the back of my neck and I felt the connection. I uploaded the video.

The officer with the breaker box nodded that it was clean and the detective connected himself to it. He whistled as he watched the thirty-eight seconds of video I had uploaded.

“Take her handcuffs off.” He turned to me, “Ma’am, where is the other woman that is involved?”

“She’ll be back as soon as our private security shows up,” I said.

His face scrunched up in contemplation as he thought about this. “Okay, we’ll wait.”

He sat on his haunches staring at me with a strange contemplative look. I got the feeling he wasn’t actually watching me but was analyzing the events and looking for the connection, despite how little information he actually had.

It was only a couple minutes, but under the motionless stare of the detective, it felt like an hour. Finally, the Marines showed up. Wearing the simple black BUD pants and t-shirt of Voidsmen, a thick ballistic vest, and a pistol strapped to their right legs, showing no rank or insignia, they looked more imposing simply because you couldn’t tell whom they worked for.

As they stepped into the hallway, the Officers of the Peace spread out and each of them moved their hands toward their own side arms. The detective stood up and announced with a loud and imposing voice, “Stop, identify yourselves.”

The Marines stopped and saluted the detective; I watched the detective visibly relax, but his hand stayed near his own sidearm.

The lead Marine replied, “I’m Lance Corporal Jenson of Asuna Rica’s private security detachment.”

“Are these the men you were waiting on?” the detective asked me without taking his eyes off the soldiers.

“Yes, sir,” I replied. To the Marine, I said, “Lance Corporal, take your men upstairs one floor to Ms. Torero; she’ll give you your orders.” I paused as he nodded acceptance of the orders, then continued, “And please ask her to join me down here as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am. Do you need any assistance before we leave?” He glanced toward the detective and officers of the peace.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Ma’am,” he said with a curt nod. There was a moment of tense silence as everyone waited impatiently for the elevator door to open.

As the doors closed behind the marines, the detective offered, “They look more like ex-marines than private security; that or private military. I’d bet on the latter, personally.”

A thin smile cracked my face as my cortex automatically ordered another dose of pain killers into my system. I was really starting to feel groggy and ready to sleep for a week. “Are you a betting man, detective?” I asked.

He gave a short, half-hearted laugh. “Ma’am, all good detectives are.”

“I’ll just assume you’re a good detective, then.”

“Thank you. I tend to think I am.” He turned and spoke to one of the officers. “Do we have an ID on the body yet?”

“No, sir,” the officer replied. “His badge is fake and the ID number on it is, um...” He trailed off.

“What’s the badge number? Spit it out, already.”

“Well, sir,” — the officer glanced towards me nervously, then back to the detective. “It’s yours.”

The detective pursed his lips in thought. “Well then, no wonder he started shooting. He doesn’t look anything like the image of me in my file, now does he?” The officer didn’t say anything else but went back to whatever he was doing on his tablet.

Just then, the elevator door opened and suddenly everyone was tense, hands near holsters. Tami stepped out, the corner of the elevator hiding her left arm.

“I’m Tami Torero; you wanted to speak with me?” she said to the detective, adding a brilliant smile. Everyone relaxed at the site of a young, non-threatening woman. Little did they know.

“Yes, ma’am, we just have a few questions for you.”

Tami moved, her left shoulder rolling, giving away that she was doing something out of sight of everyone, as she stepped fully into the hallway. “What can I help you with,” she paused for a second, “Detective Charlie?”

The detective smirked. “Just need you to corroborate the statements of this woman; then we’ll take some statements on the hotel shooting.”

I must have slipped unconscious for a moment because I woke to one of the paramedics shaking me awake. “Ma’am, you need to stay awake; you have a concussion. I’m also going to remove the cast and take a closer look at that wound.” I nodded. “This is going to hurt.” The serious look on his face snapped me awake a little, but I doubted it would hurt that much: there were so many pain killers running through my veins at the moment I doubted I could feel much of anything.

He deftly used a scalpel to make a few quick slits into the foam cast, then ripped it away from my ribs. I was wrong; the pain was intense enough that I screamed. Immediately, I tried to take my pain and box it away in dark corner of my mind, but I was high, and groggy, and found it very difficult to concentrate on the task of compartmentalization.

The foam had ripped away the scab along with a good chunk of skin and some of the fabric from my dress. Blood started pouring out of the wound and he quickly pressed a clotting patch to it. “Ma’am, we need to get you to a hospital.” He spoke as he pressed some needle-sized probes into the tissue around the wound and also gave me a shot of antibiotics. “Your ribs are smashed and one of your lungs is deflated.”

This was nothing I didn’t know. “No,” I said, feeling the words slur a bit in my mouth. “We have a doctor with a portable surgery coming.”