Emergency Town Meeting

“I knew these visitors were nothing but trouble! We should have sent them packing immediately,” a large, matronly woman said in a shrill voice. She was edging near hysteria.
“Thank you, Mrs. Martin,” Kate said. “Your numerous opinions have been noted but can we please let other people speak.”
A voice in the audience called out, “What do you know about this Corporation?”
“Good point,” Kate said. “Portia?”
Portia approached the podium. Public speaking was not her forte. Wasn’t her anything, really. “Good evening. Many of you know I’m Portia Clovelly.”
“We know that, sweetheart.”
“And Captain Clovelly thought I should give you a brief history of what’s happened on Earth since you left.”
The audience grew quiet. Everyone wanted to know what happened on Earth since they left fifty years ago.
“The War Years left the world’s governments in terrible debt. The Bank Federation decided to step in and take over fiscal responsibility since the governments were incapable. In order to save money, the chore of fiscal watchdog was privatized and the rise of the Corporation began. All of this was already in motion when we left. Now the Earth is a global monopoly of the Corporation. It is the largest employer, my former employer, actually, and the wealthiest entity on the planet.
“The monopoly has led to revolutionary urban renewal. Vast areas of blighted city are now de-urbanized zones and turned into green park land.”
“What happened to all the people?”
“They went to debtor’s colonies. The Hope and Crosby were the only voluntary colony ship. Everyone else was force to colonize to work in what are essentially poorhouses. Some take an indentured servitude. It’s not pretty but it solved the over population problem on Earth.
“Now are cities are clean and spacious. Mass transit works. But it there is a deep social and economic divide. The working class, Stationers, have little in the way of rights and are frequently driven into poverty and colonizing.”
“Good thing we left when we did!”
“The Corporation is ruthless. It sends out colony ships to claim copyright on new planets but unless the planets have an obvious source of income, the colonies are abandoned. When the first transmission from the Crosby were received about the Hope being missing, my higher ups ran the Cost Analysis and decided you weren’t worth the fuel.”
A mummer of unrest went through the crowd. “How do you know we can trust you if you worked for the Corporation?”
“Good question. I worked on the old colony terminals. I received the first message from the Crosby and brought them to the attention of my supervisors. When no one would take action, I leaked the transmissions to the media. And then I stole data from the Corporation. And then I stole a ship. And another ship. I don’t think the Corporation is very happy with me at the moment. In fact, I think I’ve been fired.”
“What are we going to do? We can’t possibly fight them, they have unlimited resources.”
Kate stepped up. “I’ll tell you what we are not going to do and that is panic.”
“Right. The Corporation may have unlimited resources but the bottom line is all they are really concerned about. If a venture does not promise enough profit upfront, they won’t invest. Think about all those other colonies they’re left alone? Good people who work hard. Does the Corporation send then the latest in data technology? No. Does the Corporation send an occasional crate of medical supplies? No. What do the cheap bastards do? Nothing, but nothing doesn’t impact their budget.”
“Than you, Portia,” Kate said, gently pushing Portia away from the podium.
A voice in the audience called out, “I don’t understand. How did the Corporation find out about us?”
Portia found Franklin lurking in the back of the crowd.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kate said. “We all knew it was matter of time before some explorer stumbled across our beautiful planet. Now we need to focus on what we can do.”
More comments from the audience. “Can’t our friends in orbit do something?”
Turkish stood up from his seat in the front row. “Actually, the Black Star is a courier class ship, it’s not equipped with cannons or guns or any type of arms.”
“What?” Portia found it hard to believe that the Corporation forgot to equip its most expensive ship without a means to protect itself.
“She’s a fast ship, very fast. She’s designed to run away, not fight. Haven’t you heard, he who runs away lives to fight another day?”
Portia tossed another menacing glance at Franklin. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”
More grumbling from the audience.
Kate spoke, this time her voice was louder, commanding the full attention of everyone in the room. “The Corporation is not going to come at us with guns on their first trip. Didn’t you listen to Portia’s presentation? They plan to litigate us, wear us down with legal banter, convince us that we have no right to our home.”
A man stood up in the audience, thin and weedy looking. “I use to be lawyer back on Earth. Haven’t seen the need to practice law in fifty years but I can give it a go.”
“Thank you, Jerry. Anyone else willing to admit to being a lawyer?”
Franklin slowly raised his hand. “I…I have a law degree.”
Kate paused before answering. “Okay, you and Jerry put your heads together for our best defense. Everyone else, I want you to go back to your homes and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The audience slowly filed out of the town hall.
Turkish made his way to Portia.
“Franklin has a law degree?” she asked.
“Yeah, put the kid through law school with my ill gotten gains,” he said with smirk. “Figured it would be good to have a legal mind on my side if I ever ran up against the law.”
“Was that his debt?”
“Some of it.”
Kate approached Portia and Turkish. “How quickly do you think they can be here?”
Turkish shrugged concomitantly. “If they’re really hot and bothered, they can take a Drive ship and be in less than a week. Slingshot, maybe a month.”
“This Drive ship,” Kate said, “that’s the kind of ship you have?”
Turkish nodded.
“Good, no guns. Let’s hope for that.”
“Even if we give them a slip this time, they’ll come back with warships, you know.”
“We’ll worry about that when we get there.”

He What

“He what?” Kate asked shrilly. It was the only thing that seemed to penetrate her calm, cool exterior.
“Franklin tipped the Corporation off about your planet.”
Kate began to pace. “I knew this day was inevitable. I mean, we’re no so far out into space that you didn’t find us. It was only a matter of time before some other explorers found us and our secret would be out, I only thought we could enjoy if for a bit more.”
“And this is certain?” Bea asked. Only on the planet for a month and already her hair seem to be growing blonder, not silvery. Her face was stilled lined with heavy age but there was a spry spring in her step that betrayed her joints were feeling better.
“You know the Corporation, Bea, and you know how popular Rejuvenations are and they’re not even permanent. Clovelly is a goldmine. This place is going be crawling with spas and rich people.”
“I hate the rich,” Bea grumbled. She grabbed Kate’s hand and said, “I’m sorry we brought all this trouble to you.”
Kate lightly embraced her sister. “No, it’s like I said, being discovered was only a mater of time. We need to have a town meeting.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“Not yet.”

The Courageous Clovelly Sisters Amazing Reunion

Portia wasn’t sure when it began to percolate up to the surface of her consciousness, but she hadn’t seen Franklin in a few days. She found herself on a mini-quest to find him.
He wasn’t with Turkish, which Portia knew right away because she was nearly always with Turkish. He wasn’t following Kate around, asking a thousand questions about the journey, about the colony, about her new found near immortality. He wasn’t even following Bea around, as Bea spent a lot of time with Kate. Nor was he following Jack around, asking a thousand questions about the inner workings of the colony or the hovercraft he built from scratch or any of the other ingenious gadgets Jack rigged. He wasn’t even shadowing Twelve who had taken it upon him to perform daily in Rex’s bar. Those were Franklin’s usual haunts. Portia was at a loss.
Portia found Franklin in the StarMaster 5050, hunched over his data pad, typing.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing.”
“Whatcha writing?”
“My screen play.”
“What’s it called?”
“The Courageous Clovelly Sisters’ Amazing Reunion.”
Portia frowned. That was not a nice title. “I suppose it’ll be changed in production anyway.”
Franklin stopped typing and faced Portia. “Everything about this journey has been so smegging cinematic. Did you see the way Bea held out her hand to Kate just before they embraced?”
“I saw.”
“It was like age looking in a mirror and seeing youth. I couldn’t’ have written a better scene!”
“Look, how much are you planning on sharing with the audience?”
“Everything!”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
Portia sat down next to Franklin. This is what Kate was trying to hint at gently, about outsiders. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to mention the whole fountain of youth thing.”
“Really? Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because the Clovellians asked you not to? Don’t be silly, they’re just afraid of change. All they know of Earth is fifty years outdated. Earth’s changed; the whole philosophy of the Corporation has changed. It’s inclusive now. They don’t know what’s best for them.”
“The Corporation coming here is not what’s best for the Clovellians.”
“And what makes you such an expert?”
Portia found herself growing frustrated with Franklin. “Don’t you remember why Micheal Connelly was striking? Don’t you remember how horrible the lives of Stationers are? They work nearly constantly and make now money but everything’s expensive and there’s no room for improvement or even a decent quality of life.”
“That’s just propaganda.”
“It’s not propaganda!”
“We’ll be rich, Portia. Think about it, rich. You’ll never have to work again. I’ll never have to work again. I’ll finally be my own man!”
“Your own man.”
“It’ll be fantastic! I’ve dreamed of this since I was little boy with the Ravens. No more being subjected to someone’s whims or tying my fate to their fortunes. I’m free. I’m my own man.”
“No, you aren’t. The Corporation is going to descend on this planet like the plague and they won’t negotiate all nice with lawyers, they’ll just take it over. And then they’ll build thousands of high rise buildings for condos for the rich, so no rich person will ever have to grow old again, and the entire planet will be covered in a metropolis and it’ll be worse than Earth.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s a paradise here and it would be really easy to destroy it if we’re not careful.”
“This planet is under populated and under developed. The right real estate developer could really make something of this mud ball.”
“Please,” Portia said, “just think of the people whose lives you’ll be changing forever if you let the Corporation about this fountain of youth.”
“It’s too late.”
“What.”
“I already claimed my finder’s fee. One hundred thousand UGOs. I’m a made man.”
Portia punched Franklin. She hated violence, detested the idea of willfully hurting another living being, but it felt good to feel his soft flesh give way under her knuckles. Very satisfying. She should have done this earlier.
“What’ you do that for!” Franklin rubbed his jaw.
“You scum! You shallow, shallow, money grubbing leech of a man!” Portia went after Franklin again but he ran around to the other side of the table.
“It’s information and that’s fair trade!”
“You’re talking about people’s lives! You haven’t even considered how this is going to accept anyone else but you!”
She moved to the left and Franklin moved to the right. Frustrated, she picked up his data pad and threw it against the wall.
“What it! That’s expensive!”
“Oh, buy yourself a new one!”
Portia picked up a glass and threw it at Franklin’s head. He ducked. It smashed against the wall.
“This is useless,” Portia said.
“So are you going to stop throwing things at me?”
Portia growled. “When the others find out what you’ve done, you’re going to wish I put you out of your misery.”

Reunification Day

“Is it a party?” Portia asked.
“I don’t know how Kate knew I was coming,” Bea said, striding confidently off the ship.
The scanner indicated two settlements. Turkish thought is prudent to land near the larger settlement. The scanner also picked up on many interesting things about the planet, the unusual radiation and the large beasts that Portia had only ever seen as bones in a museum: dinosaurs. The planet seemed to be populated with ancient Earth dinosaurs. Where at Kate Clovelly led her colony?
It did seem like their arrival interrupted a celebration.
A tent was pitched in a green field. There was a band and girls running around in elaborate dress. Certainly some kind of party.
An angry looking woman in a white dress was walking very fast towards them.
“What do you think you are doing!” she shouted in an angry voice, hands motioning wildly, and bouquet being shaken in a threatening manner.
Portia held up her hands in a peaceful manner, and also to protect herself from the bouquet. “We come in peace,” she managed to get out.
“Peace, man,” Fred repeated, “like far out, chill, man, take a chill pill. Frankie says relax.” Fred was not quiet out of his annoying stage just yet.
A crowd was approaching. Good, someone to protect Portia from the crazy woman in the wedding dress.
“Do you know how long it took to get that man to think about marriage without hyperventilating?” Another whack with the bouquet.
“I’m sorry,” Portia said.
“I’m sorry,” Fred repeated. “I repent, father I have sinned, forgive me. To err is human, to forgive divine.”
Turkish positioned himself between Portia and the mad bride. “Listen, I’m terrible sorry for ruining for your special day, but we just flew thirty five lights years to get here.”
A young looking man in a suite joined the woman in the white dress and was trying desperately to prevent the bride from battering Portia. He appeared to be a groom. “Come on, Larissa,” he said, “I think we should find out who these people are before you murder them.”
“I’ll murder you!” Larissa said, turning her wrath to the groom. “Keep me waiting for twenty years.” She whacked him with the bouquet. “Why should a man buy the cow, we have all the time in the world, and all these lame excuses for a coward. You’re nothing but a coward, Jack Crosby!” More whacking with the bouquet.
“Jack jack jack jack jack,” Fred warbled happily.
“Fred?”
“Jack my main man, how long has it been. Sight for sore eyes. Good to see ya, wouldn’t want to be ya.”
“Fred!”
The groom forgot the bride and scoped up Fred the robot in a bone crushing embrace. Fred didn’t seem to mind but continued to coo “Jack jack jack.”
The bride wailed. “Now I’m never going to be married!”
The crowd finally arrived. A woman, youthful with long blonde hair led the crowd. “Who are you people?”
“Kate?” Bea asked. “That’s incredible, you’re so young.”
The woman, Kate, studied Bea’s face before speaking. “Beatrice?”
Bea held out her hand, as if testing the air. Kate also extended her hand, their fingers touching.
The sisters embraced for the first time in fifty years.
“How did you get here?”
“You’re so young and shiny!”
“I thought I’d never see you again!”
“I couldn’t stand the idea of you being lost.”
“How did you get here?”
“We stole a ship.”
“You stole a ship?”
“My granddaughter has absolutely no moral values and does whatever her granny says, so she stole a ship.”
“How long have you been traveling?”
“About a month.”
“A month, that’s incredible!”
“Not if you steal a faster than light ship.”
“They have faster than light, now.”
“Of, they have lots of things now, but no fountain of youth. What’s your secret?”
“It’s the radiation on the planet. Seems we stumbled into an ancient alien zoo with a radiation emitting device that keeps the inhabitants young.”
“So that explains the dinosaurs.”
“All herbivores. Very peaceful creatures, really.”
Portia smiled amiably at the reunion of the Clovelly sisters. She scanned the crowd and recognized Ofelia Clovelly.
“You’re Ofelia,” she said, extending a handshake.
“Yes, and you are?”
“Portia, Bea’s granddaughter.”
Ofelia suddenly scooped Portia up into an embrace and said loudly, “I also wanted a cousin!”
“I think, technically, I’m a niece.”
“Even better. Welcome, niece.”
Ofelia tapped Kate on the shoulder. “Um, Mom. If we don’t get back to the wedding, Larissa is going to start chopping off heads.”
Kate smoothed down the front of her shirt. “Right. A wedding, a reunion, and great day altogether.” She surveyed the crew standing behind Bea and Portia. “Exactly how large an army did you bring?”
“Five, for stealing ships and other emergencies, it good to have some men around.”
“How did you manage to find us?”
“We just followed the directions on your obelisk.”
“It’s still there?”
“Sure. The Crosby colony was sure in a pickle wondering what happened to you.”
Kate exchanged a very serious look with Ofelia. “Well,” Kate said, all business. “We’ve a lot of time to make up for.”

Fred You Betcha

“What are you doing?” Turkish asked.
Portia made her way to the empty cabins. The streets were clean and empty. No rubble. No debris. The lawns were manicure and not a weed marred the smooth green expanse.
Turkish caught up with her. “I said, what are you doing.”
“Exploring.”
“There’s nothing to see here.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Derek Crosby said they’ve been through all these old cabins before.”
“Do you really believe him? He also said they never come here and clearly they do. Who mows the grass?”
Turkish looked down at the ground. “Huh, never thought of that.”
“Besides, can you imagine the state Bea will be in if I didn’t find Kate’s cabin? She’ll want photos.”
“Your grandmother certainly is a piece of work.”
“Come on. Which looks captainly to you?”
“They all look the same.”
Portia picked a cabin at random. It had been painted yellow at one time. The yellow paint was weathered and rusting at the seams. The glass was clouded over with age.
“This is ridiculous,” Turkish said.
Portia tried the door, placing her hand to the sensor pad. It was unlocked and slid open. “You’re such a little girl,” she said, stepping into the cabin.
It was exactly like a cabin on a ship. The lights flickered on when it detected a human presence. Solar power never fails. The bed/sofa unit was built into the wall. A food processor was also installed. Small bath and toilet facilities. Small statues and a few books lined the shelves. All in all a very modest home.
“Down right tiny,” Turkish said. He sat down on the sofa. He raised an eyebrow at Portia, “Do you wanna?”
“This is serious.”
“Look at my face. I am a serious man.”
“Let’s keep looking.”
The next cabin was equally empty but sparsely furnished. It felt as if the inhabitants had to move but could not take everything with them, leaving behind most of their possessions.
The third cabin had been painted blue. The door was locked.
“What do we have here?” Portia asked. Her hand was pressed against the sensor pad but the door would not open.
“That’s is odd. Why bother locking an abandoned home?”
“Exactly.” Portia withdrew her data pad and established a linked. A few lights blinked and then the door slid open agreeably.
“Is there anything you can’t do with that thing?”
“A few.”
Turkish stepped inside first.
“What are you doing?” Derek Crosby was walking very swiftly towards them, waving his arms in an unhappy manner.
Portia waved brightly back. “It’s okay! You just want to check something.”
Portia stepped inside. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.
Turkish was facing down a tall silver robot. Actually, he was trying to back away and the robot kept inching closer, chirping and babbling nonsense. How long since it saw a human?
“Hello, hello, top of the morning to you, how may I help you?”
The silver robot stopped inches from Portia’s face. It had an amalgamation of human features, a strange mesh of metal that shifted and moved. It appeared friendly.
“That’s incredible,” Portia said.
“It is. It’s incredible, wondrous, stupendous, fantastic, and all around a good thing,” the machine chirped.
Portia reached out a hand slowly and touched the soft metal mesh that made the face. “An A1717, wow. I didn’t think there were any of you guys left in the universe.”
The A1717 seemed to blinked slowly and smile. “There’s always Fred, you betcha. Fred’s always here, waiting, waiting, waiting.”
“How long have you been waiting Fred?”
“Ten thousand nine hundred and fifty three days. Two hundred sixty two thousands eight hundred hours. Approximately fifteen million…”
“Thank you, Fred,” Portia said loudly, “that’s enough.”
Derek Crosby ran into the cabin, slightly out of breath and clutching onto the doorframe. “What is that thing?”
“It is Fred, you betcha,” Fred said. “How do you do, state your name and business.”
Turkish continued to take apprehensive steps back. “Why is it like that?”
“The A1717, while a very progressive design on artificial intelligence,” Portia recited from memory, “was able to customize the affectations of the robot to suit the personality of the owner.”
Fred was now singing a Boone Fabulous song in a warbled, off key voice.
“Unfortunately, the model was very unpopular due to the annoying phase of the robot learning to adapt itself.”
“I can see that. So, did you memorize every owner’s manual for every robot ever?”
“I thought you said that was hot.”
“Was. Now it’s a bit weird.”
“That thing,” Derek Crosby said, “has been here all this time?”
Fred turned an unblinking eye towards Derek Crosby. “Fred is not a thing, no no no. Fred is a machine with the soul of a poet, of Shakespeare, to be or not to be, of Milton, and of Dickens, it the best of times, it was the worst of time. Fred is more than the sum of his parts, Fred is.”
Portia cleared her throat. “Apparently Fred has been waiting for quite some time, haven’t you, Fred?”
Fred nodded. “Fred waited and waited and waited for the Jack to return. Larry Moe Curly said the Jack would be back for Fred so Fred waits.”
Turkish looked at Portia. “Larry Moe Curly, that’s what the colonist called the aliens.”
Fred could speak for himself and seemed to delight in being the center of attention. “Fred translated for Larry Moe Curly. The Jack could not speak Larry Moe Curly’s language but Fred could. Fred is happy to serve, you betcha.”
“Do you know what happened to the colonists from the Hope?” Derek Crosby asked.
“A trade, a bargain was struck, a deal was made, cold hard cash, coin crossed palms. Give us a bunny. Show me the money.”
“I don’t have a bunny,” Derek Crosby said, confused. “What bunny? What money? What is Fred talking about?”
“Fred,” Portia said, placing on a hand on the machine arm, causing its eyes to focus on her. “Where did the colonist go?”
“Give us a bunny, we give you a ship, good ship. Blue ship.”
This wasn’t working. “Where’s Jack?”
Fred burbled coordinates. “It’s a good planet. Better than this planet, you betcha. Not a big but extra nice. You like it, give us a bunny.”
Portia turned to Turkish. “Are those coordinates legitimate?”
“Could be. They sound good.”
“Sound good, they are good, good to the last drop, rain drops keep falling on my head.”
“How long does the annoying phase last?” Turkish asked.
“Don’t really know. He’s been alone for a long time; maybe he’s reverted back to his factory settings. Can we take him with us?”
“No.”
Derek Crosby spoke, “He is property of the Hope Colony and therefore property of the Crosby. I can not allow you to leave with our property.”
“Take me home, country roads,” Fred sang. “To the place, where I was born, born in the USA, I was born in the USA…”
“You can keep him,” Derek Crosby said.

Eden Twelve

“There she is,” Bea said. The blue and green planet filled the vid screen. It was beautiful. The entire crew was gathered in the cockpit.
“Do we know where the colonist are?” Turkish asked.
“A simple scan,” Portia said, pressing buttons.
The only settlement was located in the northern hemisphere, near the eastern edge of a continental landmass.
“Twenty minutes to launch, people,” Turkish said. “Put on your negotiation hats.”
They took the Starmaster 5050, the only not lavishly painted to proclaim the Starship Fabulous. It was a small landing crew: Bea, Turkish, Brick, Franklin, and Portia.
“Do you really want to leave Big Julie alone in your ship?” Portia asked Turkish.
“My men will keep an eye on him. The Black Heart is safe.”
That’s right. Turkish supplied a small army of his “men,” pirates, to man the Black Heart.
“Ready for entry,” a voice said of the intercom. “I’d suggest strapping yourself in.”
The entry into the atmosphere was, for the most part, smooth with only occasional bone rattling shaking.
From the air, the Crosby colony seemed small, a network of tiny houses laid out in a neat grid around a green square. The ship skimmed above the surface of an orchard and passed what seemed to be fields with wheat and fields with animals. From the air it was a very tidy little pastoral paradise.
“Any recommendations for landing, Captain?” Bea asked.
“Wherever looks good,” Turkish said.
Bea set the ship down in the middle of the green square.
The minutes later, the crew was ready to disembarked. Turkish scanned the crew.
“No weapons,” Turkish said.
“Ah, come on. We don’t know what these people are going to do,” Brick protested.
“No weapons. We are not their enemy.”
“How about a little one?”
“No.”
“Hope they know we’re not the enemy.”
“Listen up, people,” Turkish said. “We don’t know what kind of reception we’re going to get when we open that door, but believe me, it’ll be a show. And we are going to keep cool. No acting hasty. And don’t say anything. And follow my instructions. Understand?”
The crew murmured an understanding.
The door lowered open slowly.
Turkish led the group blinking into the sunlight.
A considerable crowd had gathered. Visitors couldn’t be that common. Portia regretted Turkish’s command against weapons because the colonists did not have a problem bringing rifles to the negotiations.
“I told you,” Brick muttered.
Turkish raised his hands in a sign of peace.
A man, middle aged, a little paunchy but clearly the leader step forward. “Are you from the Corporation?”
“Hell, no,” Turkish said. “Can’t stand those crooks. I’m a pirate.”
“Derek Crosby,” the man said, extending a hand. “Welcome to Eden Twelve.”


It turned out the Black Star and the Crosby colony had many things with which to trade. The Black Star was teeming with brand-new technology, technologies the Crosby’s crew had not seen in forty years. In exchange for some schematics and diagrams, the Crosby would supply the Black Star with fresh produce, preserves, breads, game, and some home brewed alcohol. Despite being state of the art, the food processors really couldn’t quite produce anything edible that didn’t have an artificial taste about it. Real food was always prized and always worth the price.
The town was composed of disassembled units from the ship. Negations were held in a long hall, a structure whose original incarnation seemed to have been a cafeteria.
Turkish and Derek Crosby sat at the table. Turkish’s crew was given strict instructions to stand behind him and look imposing. Derek Crosby seemed to have given similar instructions to his men. The talk was tedious, units of fruit, bytes of data.
Portia spoke suddenly. “I want you to take me to the Hope Colony.”
Turkish turned around sharply and said, “What are you doing? I told you to keep quiet.”
“Please,” Portia said. “I came all this way to find the Hope.”
“They’re not there,” Derek Crosby said.
“I know, but I need to see the site.”
Derek Crosby shook his head slowly. “We do not go there.”
“Why?”
He looked at her with a penetrating hard gaze. “Would you? An abandoned town? Empty houses with personal possessions still inside? Orchards filled with fruit bearing trees going untended? It is not natural.”
Portia leaned forward. “Do you harvest the fruit?”
“Of course,” Crosby said. “It would be foolish to squander a resource.”
“So you do go there.”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “But only for the harvest.”
Portia withdrew her data pad. “I have something to show you and I think it will change your mind.”
She played the message from Ofelia Clovelly to Katherine Clovelly.
Crosby extended a finger and tried to touch the shaky hologram of Ofelia speaking. “Is it possible? They survive.”
Portia played the message one more time. “They do survive. Somewhere. On a new planet.”
“How is that possible? The Eden ships were not designed for relaunch; they’re a one way ticket. And most of the ship is disassembled in the town anyway.”
“Maybe they found a new ship,” Ofelia said weakly.
“A new ship? From where? Growing on the trees?”
She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to speak the words. “Um…maybe the aliens gave them a ship?”
Crosby laughed, a deep laugh from the bottom of his belly. “I’ll take you to the Hope Colony myself in the morning.”

One More Week

It turns out Franklin has a really crap sense of humor.
He had to corner her in the mess hall and threaten her with a hot kettle before she could stay in one place long enough to listen to him.
“So we didn’t have sex,” Portia said.
“Yes.”
“But I was naked. You were naked.” It wasn’t adding up.
“You were also very drunk. I was trying to get you back to your cabin before you got sick everywhere or passed out but you suddenly thought it was hilarious to take off all your clothes.”
“I suddenly thought it was funny to stripe naked in the corridor,” Portia repeated.
“Yeah, Brick was really keen on helping escort you back to your cabin.”
“Brick saw me naked?”
“Partial nudity at most.”
“And how did I end up in your cabin?”
“Mine was closer.”
“But I was already naked.”
“Mostly naked. And most of the crew hadn’t seen you, so I thought to spare you that.”
“And you being naked?”
“I always sleep naked.” He probably did, too.
“Then why didn’t you tell me all this in the morning, instead of letting me storm out of there like an idiot.”
Franklin frowned. “That’s my fault. I’m sorry. You were so busy banging into doors, I didn’t have a chance to tell you.”
“You had plenty of opportunities, mister, you just like to torture me.”
“It was a little funny.” Franklin had that look on his face, a little tug at the corners of his mouth, which implied he thought he could sweet talk his way out of this.
Portia grew cold. She poured the hot water into her mug and calmly added sugar to the tea. “It was not funny,” she said. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are.”
“Friends do not let their friends march down a corridor naked because they find it particularly hilarious.”
“What can I do to make it up to you?” Franklin asked.
Portia looked in his eyes. They seemed so amiable, cheerful. “Just stay out of my way,” she said.
Portia stormed into the corridor and collided with Turkish. Hot tea splashed on both of them.
“I’m so sorry,” Portia started. She tried to dab at the mess with the sleeve of her shirt.
“No worries. Did that creep apologize?”
“If that’s what you call it. Claims it was all my fault and he was just trying to spare me further humiliation.”
“Quite a silver tongued devil, that one is. And how are you?”
“Angry. Pissed off. And I need a new shirt.”
“Let’s get you a new shirt.”
Turkish took her elbow and pulled her down the corridor towards her cabin. “You know, you really can’t handle your liquor.”
“Planet side I’m not such a cheep drunk.”
Turkish grinned at her. “I don’t believe that at all.”
They arrived at her cabin. Portia stood in the door, Turkish in the hall.
“I’ll be seeing you, then,” he said.
“Why’d you kiss me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Last night, like that.”
“I wanted to, I thought you wanted to, also.”
“I liked it.”
“Good, so did I.”
Portia grabbed Turkish’s shirt and pulled him close to her. “And I want to do this,” she said, kissing him.
His arms were suddenly around her, kissing her back passionately. Portia had the oddest sensation of being lifted off her feet.
“And I want to do this,” he said, pushing her down onto the bed. His body pinned down and she liked the weight of him against her.
“Do you know what else I want to do?” Portia asked, between kisses.
“I can guess.”
“Good, because I am not drawing you a treasure map.”


“Does this boat have room service?” Portia asked, admiring the view of Turkish sitting on the edge of the bed.
“When you’re the captain, I suppose so. Do you want room service?”
“Not really, I just don’t want to leave bed for a while.”
Turkish turned towards her. “Neither do I but…”
“The duties and responsibilities that come with the privilege of being captain.”
“Something like that.”
“You’re not going to brag, are you?”
“About what?”
“You know, getting some.”
“I most certainly am. You are a luscious pearl to be prized above all others.”
He kissed her thoroughly and soundly before leaving.
“I’m a pearl,” Portia whispered to herself.


Portia and Turkish found lots of reasons not to leave the bed.
“I like being a pirate wench,” Portia said, stretching out on her side.
“You’re not a wench,” Turkish said. “You’re a pirate’s woman.”
“Yo ho ho.”
“No self respecting pirate talks like that.”

What the Smeg Did You Do Last Night

Portia’s first thought was that her head hurt. Really hurt. Really really hurt.
She drank, right? Portia wasn’t sure how much she drank but she was pretty sure she would be considered a lightweight, which was embarrassing.
Her head really hurt. Really, really hurt.
“Good morning, wonderful.”
Her second thought wasn’t really a thought as much as a flood of panic and scrambling out of the bed as fast as possible.
She fell the floor, butt smarting on the impact, pulling the blanket down with her. The blanket smoothly glided over Franklin’s to reveal his naked form on the bed.
She tried to say several things at once, finally getting out a coherent, “Did we?”
“It certainly wasn’t a naked accident, is that’s what you mean.”
Her head really, really, really hurt.
“Where am I?”
“The S.S. Starship Rainbow Fluffy Puppy Express Fabulous.”
“Who’s cabin,” she said tartly.
“Mine, if you must know.”
“Where are my clothes?”
“Don’t know.” Franklin rolled over onto his chest, resting his head on folded arms. He looked comfortable. He said, “You weren’t so interest in clothes last night.”
“I’m interested now.” Portia stood up, gathering the blanket around and cinching it in the front. She scanned the cabin. It was a standard issue starship cabin, she imagined. Bed and chair and not much else. Her clothes were not here or hidden very well.
“Seriously,” she said, “where are my clothes?”
Franklin moved a shoulder in a graceful shrug. “Can’t help you there, Gizmo.”
“Don’t call me that.” She peered under the bed and found her boots. No clothes, just boots.
“You told me last night you liked your code name.”
Portia stood up again, the blanket slipping slightly from her hands. “Seriously? Are you smegging me? This is some really horrendous joke you and the crew thought of last night after I drunk myself into a stupor.”
Franklin rolled onto his back.
Portia looked, she had to look. The small green raven tattoo on his heck was visible.
Franklin caught her gaze and smirked. He said, “Friad this isn’t a joke, Gizmo.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Can I call you lover?”
“No!”
“Bea was right, you really are hung up.”
“I’m not hung up,” Portia said.
“Then why are you there wrapped up in a blanket, trying to hide yourself when I’ve already seen you naked. Like three times.”
“Two of those were accidents.”
“Naked accidents, the best of all possible accidents.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t believe me? Naked accidents are pretty sweet. A little awkward the first time, but really quite nice overall.”
“No. This is a joke, smegging joke. We did not have sex last night.”
“It’s not a joke. We made mad, passionate love like two sailors on shore leave.”
Portia felt weak in the knees. She needed to sit down for a moment but did not want to give Franklin the wrong idea. Too late for wrong ideas now. She sat on the narrowest edge of the bed possible, still clutching the blanket. “But,” she said, “I can’t stand you.”
“Here’s to alcohol: the cause of and solution to all life’s problems.”
That sounded familiar. She remembered toasting the great social lubricant values of alcohol with the rest of the crew. They were celebrating. Oh no.
Oh no.
Portia jumped up like a rocket. “I have to go. Now.”
“Come on, stay a bit.”
“I have to go, right now,” she repeated, rushing for the door. She approached too quickly and smacked into the door before it had a chance to open. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she repeated, making a hasty exit.
Portia dropped the boots trying to rub her forehead at the place of impact, dropping the blanket. Quickly she gathered the blanket again and carried the boots in one hand.
“I have your clothes,” she heard Franklin say. “I can explain.”
Portia walked quickly down the hall, boots and blanket, and passed Turkish. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
She slid into her cabin without comment or public nudity. What the smeg did she do last night?

Back Sailing Under the Jolly Roger

“Permission to come aboard.”
“Turkish,” Portia said, leaning forward to the console screen. “How delightful to see you again.”
“You have my ship.”
“So it seems, yes. And quiet an amazing feat it was, too.”
“Prepare for boarding.”
“Enough with the chit-chat,” Bea interrupted. “Get your skinny pirate ass on board as fast a possible, Turkish. Driving this thing is like trying to steer a battleship in a bathtub. I’d be more comfortable in wide open space.”
“I copy,” Turkish said, laughing.
Turkish arrived with a small army of his own aboard the Starmaster 5050. It seems he had to leave Laredo in a rather hurry.
“It’s amazing how quickly the Corporate suits can turn up the heat when they think you stole their ship,” Turkish said. He uncorked the bottle of wine and generously filled glasses.
He handed the first glass to Portia. She took a small sip, wanting to pace herself after the last embarrassing drunken incident. “But what about Laredo?” she asked.
Turkish continued to fill glasses. “It’ll fall into the hands of some other rogue, I’m sure. I’ll miss it, sure, but I missed the hard scrounging life of a space pirate. Glad to be back sailing under the Jolly Roger.”
Bea took glass with a small curtsey. “Thanks to you, sir pirate. And how are we to get to Eden Twelve, if asking is not being too impudent.”
“Yeah,” Portia chimed in. “We only did that job for you to get on the Slingshot.”
“And protection against handsome, roving rogue pirates?” Turkish asked.
“If such a thing exists, yes.”
“You forget, Gizmo, that this is a fast than light Drive Ship. Once my stellar crew figures out the engines, I’ll have you there in a jiff. A second. A nano second, even.”
“So our passage is already paid?”
“Yes, no more tricks.”
She didn’t really believe him but the wine was pleasantly warm in her belly and his good mood was infectious. “What will you name it?”
“It?”
“The ship.”
“Ships are women. What will I name her?”
“Yes, what will you name her?”
Twelve spoke, “The Starship Fabulous, of course.”
“A grand name,” Turkish agreed, “but no. She’s a fine ship and needs a fine, menacing name, to strike fear into the hearts of my foe.”
“So the Rainbow Fluffy Puppy Express is out?”
“Yes, right out.”
Once the Starship Rainbow Fluffy Puppy Express Fabulous was a safe distance, it dropped out of father than light drive and drifted towards Eden Twelve.
“How long do we have?” Portia asked Turkish. She was curled up on a sofa in the lounge/bar of the ship. Corporate ships came with a very generous liquor cabinet.
“Seven days approximately.”
Bea shook her head. “Seven days travel to eclipse twenty years. Amazing.”
Portia took the glass of wine from Bea. “Booze makes her philosophical.”
The celebration had grown to include the entire crew.
“Who’s driving the ship?”
“I’ve got my best men on it.”
Brick sat next to Bea, his thick arm draped over her shoulders. “I’m telling you, laddie, if I was twenty years younger, you’d be in trouble.”
The bracelet on Turkish’s wrist beep. A thin voice said, “Captain, we need your assistance…”
Turkish patted Portia on the head. “To be continued,” he said.
“Why does everyone treat me like a kid? Incase you didn’t notice, I kicked ass today.”
“You’re right,” Turkish said. He grabbed Portia by either arm and lifted her off her feet and kissed her firmly. It was very nice, not testing or curious, but like a pirate claiming treasure. Portia rather liked being claimed.
He smirked and winked before leaving.
And some point Franklin sat down next to Portia, placing on arm around her shoulders.
“Not bad for our first job,” he said.
The wine was making her feel generous, very generous and cheerful. “You know,” she said, “it’s a shame the way we can’t get on.”
“I think we get on,” Franklin said.
“No, we don’t. Too much tension, my grandmother says. It gets in the way and clouds our judgment, makes us uptight.”
“I am not uptight.”
“Yes you are. Last time I was this drunk I was all over you and what did you do?”
“I was a gentleman,” he said.
“Gentleman? Gentleman,” she repeated the word again, as if suddenly forgetting its meaning. “No, you picked a fight. Very ungentlemanly.”
“Well, all I can say is this time don’t drink so much I have to be a gentleman. I don’t like it, goes against my nature.”
Portia looked at the glass in her hand, debating silently half full or half empty. “It’s very hard to judge, you know.”
“The effects of alcohol in artificial gravity? It can really do a number on a person.”
“That, too.”
“I don’t feel comfortable with you taking love advice from your sainted granny.”
“That because you haven’t had enough to drink yet.”
“I don’t think I need…”
Portia refilled his glass.
“Come on, it’s a celebration.”
Franklin raised the glass in a toast. “To alcohol.”
“The cause of and solution to all life’s problems.”
The glasses clinked.

Mutiny Aboard the Chairman of the Board

The first things they needed were guns and a lot of them. Fortunately, the ammunition and firearms were exactly where they left them. Portia led the crew through the service access passage back to their original hiding place.
“My babies,” Brick said, hugging a crate.
“Don’t get too attached,” Bea said. “You can’t carry everything in those cramped passages.”
“I can’t,” Brick said, “but you’re pretty thin. Try this on for size.” Brick tossed Bea a rifle and a sling filled with cartridge refill.

The two guards in Engineering went down without a sound.
“Um,” Portia said uneasily, “they’re not dead are they.”
“No,” Brick said, dragging one guard by the collar to a corner. “Just taking a little nap.”
“Big Julie says the engine room is secure,” Weasel Man after a quick scout of the area.
“Good, good,” Franklin said. “No, controlling the ship is easy. We can just sit dead in the water if we have to, but the Corporation is on our tails.”
“So we really don’t want to be sitting dead in the water?” Portia volunteered.
“Exactly. So, I’m asking you, what is the easiest and fastest way to get everyone of these ugly, stupid slobbering pirates off Turkish’s ship?”
Portia chewed her lower lip, thinking.
“I can send a false alarm,” Portia said, scanning the control pad quickly. “Send them all scurrying to one level and then pin them in.”
“I like it,” Franklin said. “Bea?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ready to fly?”
“Been ready.”
Franklin and Bea disappeared back into the service access passage.
“Big Julie wants to know how much a of heard start do we give them before we start busting heads?” Weasel asked.
“Five minutes.” Portia cracked her knuckles and then began to introduce herself to the ship’s mainframe.
“Okay,” Portia concluded. “Corporate machines are embarrassingly easy to hack. I suspect there’s no profit in continuously writing new code to protect data when some hacker is so persistent in getting it. Lucky for me, though. The mainframe will not accept a command unless it comes from me first.”
Portia looked at Big Julie, Weasel Man and Brick, each with a disturbing amount of ammo and firepower.
“Sending the false alarm now.”
The lights of the ship turned from the pleasant ambient to a harsh red. A shrill voice said, “Warning, prisoners escaping on security deck…Warning, prisoners escaping on security desk.”
“Let’s go,” Brick said.
“No!” Portia said. She pointed to the monitors. Half of Martin Ang’s forces hustled to the security deck where Portia and the crew had been held only minutes before. The doors to the level sealed.
“No gets out of there without my say so,” Portia said. “Go Pick off the remaining guys. There’s about six left.” The wide bank of monitors gave a good overview of the ship as a whole.
“Let’s go,” Brick said, Big Julie and Weasel Man following him.
Portia sealed the doors to the engine room.
“Kiddo?” Bea’s voice was thin over the pod.
“Bea?”
“We’re almost at the cockpit.”
“Hold your action. There’s six pirates left and they guys are doing their best to get them out of the way.”
“This is fun, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Over the monitors, Portia saw Brick storm the command deck and hold Martin and Viktor Ang at gunpoint. Big Julie and Weasel Man eliminated any ideas that Martin Ang might have to fighting.
“You’re clear, go.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”
Martin and Viktor Ang were marched to an escape shuttle. By the time Bea was at the helm, the rest of Martin Ang’s crew and the hog tied Robin Slick had joined him in the shuttle and they were sent drifting off broadcasting a rather loud signal.

That Bitch Robin Slick

Franklin looked down the corridor. “Groups of two. Don’t be late, I’m not waiting for any of you.”
Big Julie and Weasel Man took off down the corridor, disappearing into a room at the far end.
“You okay taking up the rear?” Franklin asked.
“I’ll lock the doors behind us, so we don’t trip any alarms,” Portia said. She had found her data pad not far from the holding cell, sitting on a table. Bea’s sword cane was also there.
Franklin and Brick took off down the corridor, disappearing into a room at the far end.
“Ready?” Portia asked.
Bea nodded. They entered the corridor. It was empty. They walked swiftly down the corridor, towards the room at the far end.
“Hold it right there!”
Portia recognized the voice and turned around slowly. “Does anyone really say that. I mean, really?”
Robin Slick was blocking the hall with a rifle pointed directly at their chests. “Don’t move. Trust me, I have no problem with shooting your pretty ass.”
“Listen,” Portia started, not really sure what she was going to say.
“Don’t I know you?” Bea asked.
“No! For the last time, you do not know me, you kooky old bat,” Robin said, visibly irritated.
“I do know you,” Bea said. “You were that scrawny groupie turned manager always hanging around Boone. You were stealing his money.”
Robin grew red in the face. Her grip on the rifle did not lessen. “I was his girlfriend,” she said.
“He was a married man,” Bea corrected. “You were the bit on the side.”
“I was his manager!”
“You were stealing his money and not in a very clever way. Antony saw the fraud.”
“Boone loved me! He couldn’t even remember that bitch Lydia’s name most of the time, but he remembered me all right. So what’s a little money between lovers?”
Bea took a step forward.
Robin waved the gun in a threatening manner. “I’ll shoot, don’t think I won’t. I have no problem picking off an non-producing citizen, do the world a favor, won’t it?”
“What have you done to yourself?” Bea asked. “You can’t be anything but ten years younger than me and look at you.”
“Well, look at you, you old bag. You’re face is wrinkled and your hair white. You look old.”
“I am old. You look terrible.”
Portia closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle. Bea was not handling the situation well and was going to get herself shot. Portia wasn’t really sure how to handle the situation but was positive it did not involve telling the angry woman pointing a gun that she looked terrible.
“Bea, maybe you shouldn’t,” Portia started.
A shot fired went above her head. Portia flinched.
“Shut up. And I’ll have you know, Miss Clovelly, that not all of us can afford the high end rejuves.”
“Some of us are proud of our experience and don’t want them to be erased by temporary cosmetic treatments.”
“Do you think I wanted to look like this? Like my skin is stretched on too thin?”
“Like a nasty, used up old groupie,” Bea offered helpfully.
“I couldn’t stand you,” Robin said. “Neither could Boone.”
“Boone was a world class ass.”
“I loved him!”
“You loved his fame. You loved the association. You loved his money.”
“Antony thought he could confront his father about my theft but Boone wouldn’t listen to him. I had him wrapped around my finger so tight he wouldn’t believe the sky was blue unless it came from my lips.”
“What’d you do with all that money?”
“I needed it for our children.”
“You didn’t have any kids back then.”
“No, but I do now. I collected all the DNA I needed to produce a bouncing baby Fabulous.”
“You were collecting pre-child support?”
“Why do you say it like it’s a preposterous idea that Boone loved me? That he said he wanted to have babies with me? That he was going to divorce Lydia Two and marry me?”
“Me thinks the lady protest too much,” Bea said.
The butt of the rifle smacked solidly with Bea’s chin.
“Bea!” Portia shouted.
Bea wiped the small trickle of blood with the back of her hand.
“I was counting the days until you and Antony left to colonize but somehow this actually penetrated Boone’s consciousness and upset him.” She laughed. “The man was so drunk or stoned half the time he didn’t know where he was but he knew his son was leaving. And this upset him. And I had only his best interest at heart so I suggested a nice retreat with his son, a weekend in the mountains, some real male bonding time.”
Portia edged closer to Robin. She was nearly close enough to knock the gun out of her hands. Maybe tackle her around the waste…
“Don’t get any bright ideas,” Bea said in a warning tone of voice.
The rifle swiveled back in Portia’s direction. “You,” Robin said, “take five steps back. Now!”
Bea interrupted, drawing Robin’s attention back to herself. “The ski trip was your idea?”
“Brilliant plan.”
Bea moved surprisingly fast and lunged forward, connecting the cane with Robin’s ankle, knocking her off her feet. The rifle clattered to the floor.
Bea moved surprisingly fast and kicked out a leg in a low swing, knocking Robin off her feet. The rifle clattered to the floor.
Portia lunged for the rifle. She didn’t know much about weapons but she did now the right end to point with. “Don’t think about it,” she warned as Robin tried to climb to her feet.
“You were a nasty gold digging leech back then and you’re a nasty exploitive leech now,” Bea said. “I’ve spent fifty years thinking about the day Antony died. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.”
“Do it,” Robin said.
The butt of the rifle connected with her chin, sending her in an arch backward to the floor. She landed hard.
“I’m so sorry,” Portia said, “I really don’t want to hurt you.”
Before Robin could sit up, Bea’s boot was on her throat, pinning her to the ground.
“I said,” Bea repeated, placing pressure on the throat, “give me one reason not to kill you, traitor.”
“The Corporation already knows you’re here,” Robin said, voice strained. “You don’t have time to escape. Congratulations, I distracted you.”
Portia squatted besides Robin. “How is Viktor Ang here?”
“Look at you,” Robin said with visible contempt in her eyes. “All that famous DNA and you’ve done nothing with it. I worked so hard to give my daughter that kind of advantage and you’ve squandered it.”
Portia tied Robin’s hands and feet together, leaving her helpless on the floor. Portia tried to stuff a ball of cloth in her mouth but Robin refused to open her mouth.
“Try pinching her nose,” Bea suggested.
Portia pinched the nostrils together. Thirty seconds later, Robin gasped for breath and had the ball shoved in her mouth.
“Destiny is not genetics.” Portia stood up. “If you listened to Twelve, you’d know what.”
“That looks like a nice utility closet over there,” Bea said, motioning to a panel in the wall.
“Good enough for her at least.”
They put Robin Slick in storage.
“Those were some pretty impressive moves,” Portia said.
“Why thank you. Some things you never loose.”
“Like the ass whooping?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of riding a bicycle.”
“Or chewing gum?”
“I’ll be sore in the morning, though.”
“Totally worth it.”
“Totally.”

40,561!

A three thousand word day!

Now I need a nap or something.

Confessions in the Dark

“I’m sorry,” Franklin said. Portia could not locate him in the dark but turned her head to the direction his voice came from. A wall separated them.
“For what?”
“For the mess we’re in.”
“Actually, I think the blame rest squarely with that bitch Robin Slick.”
“I mean getting involved with Turkish. If I had looked, I could have found a less dangerous way to get us to Eden Twelve but I wanted it to be dramatic, cinematic even.”
Portia paused before replying, “I know.”
“And now you’re never going to talk to me again?”
“While I am offended on many levels, that you think tagging along with my grandmother and myself a venture capitalism, Bea doesn’t seem to mind. She seems to respect a little hustle.”
“And you?”
“I’m naïve. I knew you had a motive but I thought it was…me.”
“Oh.”
“Arrogant, I know.”
“Listen, I’m the arrogant one. I’m always thinking and acting like I can talk my way out of any situation. This is entirely my fault. You’re really terrific.”
Portia did not need to hear the platitudes about how terrific she was, but she just wasn’t the right girl for him. “Spare me the feelings saving crap.”
“But you are terrific and I do like you, but more like my little sister. You had it right that night I Laredo.”
“I was falling down drunk.”
“And a man who had less respect, would have taken advantage of you.”
“I was a bit sloppy that night.”
“I never had a little sister, having someone to look out for, family. I quite like it.”
After considering, Portia said, “Having a brother is nice.”
“For smeg’s sake,” Bea said. “Are you two quite done with the teary, heart felt confessions?”
“We’re having a moment here, Bea,” Portia snapped.
“Fine, I just want to know if you two lovebirds want to get out of this mess or if you’d rather continue discussing the things you wish you said or did.”
“Oh, and just how are you planning on getting out now? Brought your sword cane.”
“No.”
There was some rustling and then a loud pop.
The lights flickered on. Bea was standing outside Portia’s cell with a broad smile.
“I plan on doing something,” she said.
“How’d you do that?” Brick asked.
“Yeah, how did you do that,” Portia repeated.
“Did you bring your chewing gum like I told you?” Bea asked.
“No.” Of course she didn’t bring the chewing gum. She didn’t like chewing gum. It stuck to her teeth.
Bea sighed as she went to the control panel. She punched a few buttons and the force fields on the cells went down. She said, “Corporate design on the standard holding cell has not changed much in fifty years. I’ve been in the brig often enough to pick up on a little trick. Chewing gum stuck to the side, there,” she tapped the inside of the cell wall, near the floor. “A wad of chewing gum there will short out the relays. Saved the Moyamesing that way.”
“Clever Clovelly,” Portia said.
“A spy infiltrated the crew, made us vulnerable and we were boarded. The entire crew was captured and put in cells. Luckily, I knew a handy little trick picked up from my less than illustrious past. Freed the crew and saved the day.”
“Just like in the movie,” Franklin said. “I thought for sure that scene was made up.”
“Honestly happened.”
The field to Brick’s cell was lowered. “How’s that work, anyway.”
“No idea,” Bea said. “Someone once guessed that proteins in the chewing gum interferes with the particle relay, but I think he was making that up to sound clever.”
“Who said that?”
“Antony. He was just trying to impress me so he could get into my pants.”
“Bea,” Portia said, not even mildly interested in pretending she was shocked or offended.
“Worked, too.”

The Brothers Ang

Another hour passed. No one said much.
“I don’t suppose you have any fancy plans?” Portia asked Franklin.
“No.”
“Schemes?”
“Fresh out.”
“How about a plot?”
His head hung between his legs. “I’ve got nothing.”
The door to the room opened. Two large pirates entered. “Clovelly,” the one on the left said, “on your feet.”
Bea and Portia stood.
“Do you think you’re being funny?”
“Absolutely, not, sir,” Bea answered sincerely. “I’m Clovelly and so is she.”
The pirate looked at his data pad and muttered, “Mister Fancy Pants can’t be specific. I guess we’ll take both of them.”


Martin Ang did not share much of a familiar resemblance with Viktor Ang. Whereas Viktor looked as if he were a ruddy-faced kid wearing a suit tow sizes two large, Martin Ang was more solidly built. Martin Ang had a ruddy complexion but that was the extent of the visual similarities. Martin Ang had grown thick around the middle from a profitable life of crime and piracy.
Viktor was pacing, hands clasped behind his back to keep them from shaking nervously.
Martin sat in the captain’s chair.
The pirate pushed Portia into the room, shoving roughly. “Watch it,” she said. Her hands were cuffed behind her back.
When she saw the brothers side by side, she knew instantly that she was very much screwed. She also knew just how it was Martin Ang had all the detail plans and schematics for the Chairman of the Board, how it was so easy for him to walk in and fly away with the pride of the Corporation’s fleet: his brother was leaking information.
“If it isn’t Clever Clovelly,” Viktor Ang said, smirking at his own witticism.
“I really can’t stand you, you know,” Portia said.
“You never were very good about hiding your motives, Clovelly,” Viktor Ang said. He played the holo of Portia modifying the Crosby’s terminal.
“Burning bridges,” Portia said. “I have no intention of returning to work for the Corporation or for you.”
“I was able to trace the signal to you. Very sloppy work.”
“And what is it you are planning to do to me, since I am apparently at your mercy? You can’t exactly turn me over to the authorities, seeing as how your brother stole a Drive ship thanks to your help.”
“Yes,” Viktor Ang said. “That does seem to be a problem. I guess you are to be personal prisoner.”
Martin Ang spoke for the first time. “No prisoners! We do not take prisoners on my ship.”
Viktor took a step closer to Portia. He grabbed her chin roughly. The thick expensive cologne clouded her mind. “I think we can find another position for you to occupy then, sweetheart.”
Portia twisted away slightly and landed a kick in the middle of Viktor Ang’s chest. It made a delightful hollow ringing sound on impact.
Martin Ang stood up from the chair. “I’ve had quit enough for this pet fixation of yours, Viktor. If it can not behave itself, you will dispose of it.”
Viktor Ang rubbed his chest. There was a dirt outline of the sole of Portia’s boot. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Don’t you come near me!”
“What are you going to do? Kick me again?”
“I’ll kick you I that pretty face of yours!”
That did not give Viktor motive to pause.
Portia’s boot connected with his nose. Blood gushed down the front of his Corporate whit shirt.
Clutching his nose, “Take me away, now!” Viktor Ang ordered.
Once again two large pirates grabbed Bea and Portia and marched them down the corridors.
The pirates shoved Bea and Portia into separate cells.
“I didn’t know you could that,” Bea said.
“I took karate at university.”
“Really?”
“Why do you think I’m always going on about my kung fu? Although, I abhor violence, and only use my training in defense.”
“Of course. But still, that was pretty kick ass.”
“Thanks, Bea.”

The Best Laid Plans

Getting aboard the Chairman of the Board proved again to be easy. Portia and Bea lead the four uniform clad delivery men. The guards waved them through, not so much as a passing glance at the supply requisition.
Portia lead them down the corridor to an innocuous room. Quickly she bypassed the code and the doors slide open. The crew entered.
“Not exactly spacious,” Franklin said.
“It’ll do,” Bea said, making herself comfortable on the floor. “I suppose now the only thing to do is wait.”
Big Julie settled on the floor. The Weasel Man hovered over him. “Big Julie doesn’t like surprises. He is also known to get motion sick, so he sincerely hopes for no surprises or motion sickness.”
“So do we all,” Franklin said.


Three hours later the floor of the ship vibrated. It was pulling out of the docking station. Martin Ang had fulfilled his part of the bargain.
“Wait for it,” Bea said. “Any moment now. Chewing gum helps.”
“You’ve never been faster than light,” Portia said. “You don’t know it helps.”
Bea nonetheless took out of a foil wrapped stick of gum and popped it in her mouth. “Dreadful useful stuff, chewing gum, and it certainly won’t hurt.”
And then the universe seemed to…shift. Or fold into itself, which was the better way to describe the queer sensation Portia felt in the pit of her stomach, like she was being folded.
The folding lasted for an eternity. Or, according to her data pad, twenty five seconds. Long enough, either way.
“Everyone ready,” Franklin whispered.
The crew gave various grunts of agreement.
“Okay, remember the plan. Stick to the plan.”
Franklin stood up and the door slid open with a hydraulic hiss. Two hulking figures carrying rifles were outlined against the light of the corridor. A smaller figure, thin, moved between the two brutes and entered the room.
Portia shielded her eyes with her hand. She couldn’t see the face of the person approaching.
A hard hand connected with her check, ring cutting into the soft flesh. “Signed a delivered, just like promised.”
Portia knew exactly who it was.
Robin Slick grinned from ear to ear as the pirates took the crew at gunpoint and tied their hands behind their backs.
Robin reached roughly into Portia’s pockets and withdrew the sonic screwdriver and the data pad. “You certainly won’t be needing these tools of mischief,” she said.
“You sold out your own crew?” Portia asked, her eyes never leaving Robin’s face.
“Oh, I sold you out, and for a handsome profit. At first I was just peddling information about the heist but it seems there are certain persons who were very interested in your whereabouts and even more interested in your person.”
“You don’t have the whole crew,” Portia said. “Twelve is still out there.”
Robin laughed. “Twelve? Is that supposed to impress me? The man’s an idiot, a twelfth generation copy of an idiot. If he doesn’t wander in to this room in the next twenty seconds, we’ll apprehend him at the bar.”
The pirate crew of Martin Ang marched the pirate crew of Turkish to the holding cells deep in the bowels of the ship. They were placed on one large holding pen, a blue shimmering force field holding them in the cell.
“We can get out of this, right?” Franklin asked. “You can hack your way out of this blindfolded, right?”
Portia could not bear to look at Franklin. “Without my data pad, no. No tools, nothing to hack with.”
“Twelve’s still out there,” Bea said.
“We’re doomed,” Brick said.
“We are not doomed,” Franklin said. “We’re just a little destiny challenged at the moment.”
“We’re doomed.”
Five minutes of gloomy silence passed. The door to the holding pen opened.
Twelve was pushed into the cell, hands tied behind his back. Red faced and angry, he shouted, “You’re fired, Robin Slick, you bitch, and you’ll never get a good reference from me. Never!”
Franklin was livid, his face pale with anger. “What are you doing here, you great drunk fool?”
“I was lonely, so I thought to go look for Robin,” Twelve said. “She told me to wait in the ship.”
“And why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know how to fly.”
“You don’t have to know how to fly to wait in a ship!”
“Really? I seemed certain at the time. All those buttons. And we were moving.”
Bea interceded. “How was the show?”
“Really killer,” Twelve said. “Just ace.”

Twelve’s Show

“Okay,” Franklin said, “this is the plan and I don’t want to hear any complaining. The time for input is over. Twelve is on stage at eighteen hundred hours. I know this is a hassle and doesn’t usually fall under out contract, but we need to set up the equipment.”
Brick raised his hand.
“Yes?”
“Why?”
“Because while Twelve is on stage performing, we’ll be sneaking on board the Chairman of the Board and waiting for Martin Ang to show up. He’ll meet us back on Laredo after the gig.
“Once the show starts, the crew moves these crates to the Chairman.”
Weasel Man raised his hand. “Big Julie wants to know how we’re suppose to fit in those crates? The size doesn’t seem to generous.”
Franklin rolled his eyes. “We’re not actually going to be hiding in the crates. We’re dressing like Corporate technicians and ‘delivering’,” he formed quotation marks with his fingers, which is a very annoying habit. “There’s no crew onboard yet but a small army of technician delivering supplies, according to Portia’s reconnaissance work today. We’ll stash the ammo in safe spot and make it out base. The new wait until Martin Ang does all the hard work for us.”
Brick raised his hand again.
“What is it now?”
“It’s a good plan, a fine plan, but what if Martin Ang has the same plan as we do?”
“They don’t,” Franklin said.
“But what if they do?”
“They don’t. Once the ship leaves the spaceport, we lay low. I’ve never been faster than light, I don’t think any of you have, either, so we should just stay still until we recover from the effects. Then we’ll use the service passages to infiltrate the ship. We can take control of the engine room and then seize the ship. Portia will be working hard to over ride the computers, letting it only take commands from us. Big Julie and Brick lay down cover fire, Weasel runs ammo, does the clean up.”
“What about you?” Bea asked.
“Those four take engineering. You and I take the pilot’s chair.”
“Okay but I hope you boys know how to use a rifle? You can’t expect me to fly and shot at the same time.”
Twelve entered the room, wearing what could only be described as a sequined jumpsuit catastrophe. The garment shimmered between green and gold and seemed to emanate its own light.
“Who’s ready to rock?” Twelve asked.


There wasn’t much to set up for the show. Twelve’s data pad had the settings pre-programmed and it plugged right into the station’s mainframe.
Twelve was on the stage and beginning to crone the old hit, “Kenyan Werewolf.”
“Are you ready to go?” Franklin asked, placing on hand on her shoulder.
Over the speakers, “He’s one fast…shut your mouth…I’m just talking about the Kenyan Werewolf.”
Portia nodded. “I’m ready.”

Locking the Barn Doors

Getting into the Chairman of the Board was far easier than Portia thought. She donned the unflattering service uniform of the Corporation, a steely gray jumpsuit, and concocted an elaborate story about repairing the Communication Terminals. She forged a work order on her data pad, which was not hard. She used an existing template and filled in the Chairman of the Board as the requestor and her name as the technician.
Tools in her powdery blue satchel, she strode confidentially down the corridor to the Chairman of the Board.
Two Corporate Guards wearing lightweight armor jackets and dark tinted helmets were standing watch.
Portia smiled brightly, flashed her thumb at the scanner and proceeded to walk by.
“Excuse me, miss!”
Damn.
“Can I see your work order?”
Double damn.
“Certainly.” Portia handed over her data pad.
“It looks in order by we have no record of a work request being submitted.”
Portia readjusted the weight of the satchel strap on her shoulder. “That’s because the Communications Terminal is down. Can’t very well send a message now, can they?”
Her tone was condescending enough to be a genuine Technician, annoyed the guard for delaying her important work for even a moment.
The guard handed the data pad back with a crisp flourish. “What’s in the bag?”
Portia handed over the powdery blue satchel. The guard emptied it, passing quickly over the sonic screw driver, flashlight, the slim black case with chips and wireless cards, nutritional bars, bottled water, and pausing at the heavy wooden baseball bat Brick insisted she bring with her. For emergencies.
The Guard pointed to the baseball bat. “And this?”
“It’s for emergencies,” Portia replied honestly. “A girl never knows when she’ll need to defend herself. Did you hear what happened last week to Mary on the night shift? She was lucky she had a wrench. Not so lucky for the guy because she’s a pretty good aim with a wrench.”
“It’s a cudgel, a prohibited weapon.”
Portia couldn’t help looking surprised. “My boyfriend told me it was a baseball bat.” Fortunately, she wasn’t too surprised to lie. The lies continued, “I would never posses a weapon. I hate violence. I barely like baseball.”
The guard placed all the items back in the satchel with a slight chuckle. Clearly, Portia barely liked baseball if she could mistake a cudgel for a bat. “Proceed, citizen.”
Portia took the data pad back without a word.
The Chairman of the Board was docked at the Juno Access Station. Portia made her way through the airlocks. She was expecting to find herself in a wide-open corridor but discovered the corridor littered with boxes and heavy crates. Technician and other employees moved the crates on hover lifts, entering data about the cargo, and shouting orders. It was chaos. Excellent. Terribly easy to get aboard the Chairman of the Board.
It was virgin ship was still being outfitted and supplied. No crew aboard, yet. It was obvious why Martin Ang wanted this ship, no busy-bodied crew to get in the way of a good theft.
At a safe distance down the corridor, she squeezed the Pod and whispered, “I’m in.”
“Good job, Gizmo,” was the hushed reply. “Now get to work.”
Portia strode down the corridor confidently. The most important part of breaking and entering was acting like you belonged. What she needed was an access panel to the ship’s computer, somewhere she could set up shop and not be disturbed. There where lots of places she could do business but none of them offered privacy. Maybe if she clubbed some technicians on the head with the cudgel Brick gave her, but Portia wasn’t really looking forward to the idea of pummeling. No pummeling. She could stomach the idea of being a sneak thief but not violence. Plus, she might get blood on her boots and they were really nice boots.
She approached the door for a utility closet. She pressed her thumb against the lock and typed in a code. The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss.
The utility closet was three feet wide and three feet deep, square. The walls were panels for the operating system. This was good but not enough privacy.
Portia too the sonic screwdriver and stood on a crate. Head titled to the tiled ceiling, she slowly unscrewed the panel.
With panel loosened, she pushed it back into itself. The satchel was tossed into the ceiling. Portia then hoisted herself into the ceiling. She had done work like this before, crawling around in service passages to get at the terminals. Standard Corporate design had it that all machines could be accessed through a service passage, unpleasant and cramped corridors built into the walls of buildings and vessels. It wasn’t nice but it ensured that every machine could be serviced if it every developed an error. There was no profit in not maintaining equipment. And Portia was guaranteed all the privacy she needed inside the service passage.
It was dark. And warm. She made her way across the ceiling to the passage. It was not much more pleasant than the crawl space above the utility closet but she did have enough room to stand up.
Small blue dots illuminate the service passage but did not provide enough light to see easily by. Portia used the flashlight. She didn’t need the mainframe. She just needed an access panel. Bingo.
Portia lowered to the ground and spread out her toolkit. She unscrewed the panel and set it gently to one side. She took the wireless card from the black case and slipped it into the appropriate slot on the terminal. The terminals did not have wireless build in, to prevent easy security breaches, but they were wireless ready, so technicians would be able to work with them.
The terminal beeped. Card accepted.
She linked up the data pad. Convincing the terminal that she was a qualified service technician and she should unlimited access to the ship’s memory banks and files was not that difficult. She downloaded the schematics for the ship; the transfer took twenty five seconds.
Now, for the real test: convincing the ship’s terminal that the next time Portia’s Identity Signature appeared, she really would be six people. Portia know the flawed code would tip over the number if she attached it to her identity signature. A vigilant crewmember watching the closed circuit cameras for security would notice the small crew stealing aboard the ship, but the ship’s computer would think six was the new individual.
Done.
Portia packed up and shimmed her way back to the crawlspace and down through the hole in the ceiling. She reattached the ceiling tile and left the utility closet as pristine as she found it.
On her way back out, she was munching on a nutrition bar and waved brightly to the guards.

A Week Really Is A Long Time

As it turned out, a week really was a long time to be stuck on a small boat with someone you weren’t speaking to. In order to avoid Franklin, Portia spent more time in her cabin with Bea than she really needed to.
That morning, Bea had somehow acquired a cane with a hidden sword inside the shaft. She proudly displayed her new toy to Portia.
“What is that thing?” Portia asked. “You don’t need a cane.”
“But I need a sword cane,” Bea said with a triumphant flourish of the cane. She was practicing lunging, left arm raised at a ninety degree angle, cane pointed menacingly forward.
“You’ll really hurt someone with that thing if you’re not careful.”
“That’s the point. Hurt them before they hurt you.” Bea demonstrated by unsheathing the sword and lunging forward, penetrating a pillow on the bed.
Portia left the cabin before Bea could hurt her.
Franklin was always in the mess hall at the table, reviewing the plans. Sneaking in quietly for a drink or a quick bit to eat was infinitely more difficult, but Portia discovered that if she made no eye contract, he was not likely to speak to her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
So much for the eye contact. “Hell, I’m feeling generous, make it two.”
“Will your Corporate Identity Signature work?”
Portia thought back to the ceasing of forwarded transmissions from the Crosby. “I guess. It’s not really so important as my ability to by-pass codes, isn’t it?”
Franklin made no reply.
“Good talking to you, then,” she said, leaving the room.
“We need schematics of the Chairman,” Franklin said.
“What do you mean we need them? We don’t have them already?”
“No,” Franklin said, “That’s why we need to get them as soon as we arrive, so I have time to make a decent plan.”
“Turkish really wants us to fail, doesn’t he?”
Franklin did not look up at her but continue to study the holo projection. “I think he has the same amount of attachment to this as a high risk, low probability investment. The payoff will be great but he won’t be too put out if we fail.”
“I’m not planning on failing,” Portia said.
“Can’t say I’m looking forward to the idea myself.”
Portia wanted to ask Franklin what was it he owed Turkish. She knew why she was in his debt. She understood without asking that Big Julie owed a substantial gambling debt to Turkish, Brick owed his freedom, and Twelve was lucky anyone would hire in, but what did Turkish have over Franklin?
“Is there anything else you wish to contribute?” he asked.
“No.” Portia took her bowl of instant pot noodles and drifted to the cargo hold where she found Brick.
“Hey there, kid,” he said. He was polishing his gun.
“I’m not a kid,” Portia said. “I’m twenty eight.”
“Don’t look it.”
“Yeah, well, looks can be deceptive. What’s in all these crates?”
“Ammo.”
“Really, cause there’s like twenty crates.”
Brick said nothing.
“All that ammo? We’re steal a ship, not invading a city.”
“You never know what could happen. I like to be prepared.”
“I brought chewing gum.”
“Handy stuff.” Brick then reached behind him and produced a heavy looking wooden baton. He handed it to Portia.
“What’s this?”
“It’s for you.”
“For what?” Portia was mystified.
“For emergencies.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Like chewing gum emergencies.”
“Oh,” she said slowly. “No, I don’t get it.”
“For knocking heads.”
“Is it a baseball bat?”
“Does it look like a baseball bat to you?”
Portia studied the wooden baton, cudgel shaped object. It had a handle, it was made of wood…”Yes,” she concluded, “it does look like a baseball bat.”
“You’ve never actually played any sports, have you?”
“It’s not a baseball bat? I don’t think I’m comfortable possessing a weapon. Someone could get hurt.”
“That’s the point.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone!”
“Trust me, Gizmo, they’ll want to hurt you.”
“Don’t call me Gizmo.”
“But that’s you code name, right? Call me the Annihilator.”
“You’re not the one who gave Bea that sword cane, are you? Because she’s really going to hurt someone with that thing.”
“Beatrice Clovelly strikes me as the kind of woman who can take care of herself, Gizmo.”
Portia sighed and left with the cudgel shaped baseball bat.

The Ride into Town

Life as a Boone Fabulous Clone Twelve Roadie was actually fun.
Turkish knew what he wanted and he had all the details hammered out. Members of the crew were given their instructions.
“You’re not to contact me at all during the mission,” Turkish warned. “We can’t risk the chance of Corporate ears listening in. So, you’re on your own. I don’t want to hear a word out of the likes of yous until you return with my ship.”
Brick and Weasel Man were loading the ship with supplies. Quiet a few boxes were labeled “ammunition.”
“I don’t think I like this life of crime I seem to be leading,” Portia muttered.
Turkish, apparently, over heard. “Some are born criminals, others have criminality thrust upon them.”
Bea was sitting cross-legged on the floor, expertly assembling a rifle and humming thin tune. She seemed unfazed by the little sidetrack their journey was taking.
“You seem pretty good at that,” Franklin said.
“Had to be. Once I needed to do this in the dark. Use to practice all the time blindfolded.”
Portia turned her back on Franklin and Bea. A week was an awful long time to spend on a little boat. She faced Turkish.
“I’m still not sure what I need to do,” Portia said.
“Just convince the Station’s computer that we’re harmless and no one is stealing their baby,” Turkish said.
“I don’t think I can convince anything we’re harmless.”
Turkish laughed and squeezed Portia in an enthusiastic embrace, knocking the air out of her lungs.
The crew launched exactly six hours after the initial meeting.
The journey from Laredo to June Access Station was one week, which gave the crew time to review and fine tune the plan. Through Turkish’s mysterious means, they had a good idea of Martin Ang’s plan to steal the Drive Ship. Their plan was simple: sneak on board and then wait, letting Martin Ang do all the work. The plan also hinged on Portia’s ability to convince the computers that no one was hiding on board the most secured and well guarded ship in the known galaxy. Piece of cake.
The ship Turkish supplied the Boone Fabulous Cone Twelve tour with was also a StarMaster, but an older model, the 3045, and had no seat warmers. “Starship Fabulous” was painted on the side of the vessel. It looked just like a proper touring vessel.
The first night aboard, the crew had a good meal together in the mess hall. Big Julie, it turned out, liked to cook. Savory scents hung in the air and the aroma drifted throughout the ship.
“What are you doing in this business, anyway?” Brick asked, helping himself to another serving of mashed potatoes.
Portia’s plate was empty and she sat contented with a full belly. “I’m twenty-eight,” she said.
“Still kind of young. I mean, I know I owe Turkish. A lot. Weren’t for him, I’d still be indentured back on some little backwater planet, trying to farm my way out of debt. What could you owe Turkish?”
Bea interceded. “We’re on a rescue mission.”
“Rescue?”
“I needed to find the Hope colony. My sister was on that ship.”
Brick seemed to detect the pain in Bea’s voice and said nothing further. Portia knew the idea of a rescue mission was laughable. They couldn’t possible hope to find the colony. If they did, they did not have enough supplies to help. They didn’t have enough space to bring everyone back to civilization. If they found anyone, anything at all, the two remaining Clovelly women would be stuck with what they found.
She really hoped they found something with plumbing. Mostly, She really hoped they survived the next week.

Second Thoughts

Portia walked Bea back to her cabin. How was she going to out this? Delicately, she hoped.
“Bea,” Portia said.
“Yes, sweetie,” Bea said absently, lowering herself into a chair.
“I think this is a bad idea.”
“What’s a bad idea. I say, do you want a drink? Always calms my nerves before a mission.”
“I don’t want a drink.”
“Too late, I’m up again.” Bea was out of the chair again and out the door. She took off down the hall with a brisk pace.
Portia followed to keep up with Bea.
“What was it you were say?” Bea ask.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Nonsense. Two grown women can handle their liquor.”
“Not the drinks, the gig.”
“The gig?” Bea was smirking. “My, how square you do sound. The gig.”
“I don’t trust Turkish.”
“Of course not, he’s a pirate.”
“How do we know he’ll keep his end of the bargain?”
“We don’t. We can only hope that the rogue operates under his own moral values and codes, and that those guidelines include honoring bargains.”
“I mean, we’re in a really bad place right now.”
“Laredo is fun.”
“If you’re a pirate.”
“Or like bar fights and I love a good bar fight. Haven’t been in one since your father was born, though. Pity, I had a good jab hook combination.” Bea demonstrated, swaying in an alarming manner, jabbing at the empty air.
“I don’t trust Franklin.”
“Of course not. You barely know him. He smooth talked his way into our family and clearly he wants something. Judging from the way you two were acting this morning, it wasn’t you.”
Portia felt herself grow flush in her cheeks. “I could use a drink.”
“I don’t trust him either,” Bea said. “To volunteer to come with us on a journey we will not be coming back from and for what? What’s his angle?”
“That’s what I wanted to know!”
“I suspect he’s tying to garner enough material to write a sequel to the Clovelly Sisters holo. Imagine, the two sisters reunited after fifty years, the daring and often illegal means they have to go through to meet their destiny. It’s all sentimental tripe.”
“But this is a sentimental rescue mission, isn’t it? And doesn’t it bother you that Franklin’s only hanging around long enough to get a good story and then sell it to the highest bidder?”
“No, not really.”
Bea entered the first bar in the promenade. It wasn’t one Portia would have picked. There was a nice, reputable looking bar across the corridor with little café style tables and waitress wearing pants. This bar had waitress wearing what could be generously described as swimsuits and the rough looking clientele thought it appropriate to hand out ass-smacks as compliments. It was a pirate bar. Portia shouldn’t be surprised. Laredo was a pirate space station. This was a bar you only went into if you were looking for a fight.
Portia felt the eyes on her, assessing the kid and her elderly granny. She would really rather be at the bar across the corridor with the cute little café tables.
Bea approached the bar. “Hey, there, young fellow,” she said, catching the barkeeps attention. “Whisky on the rocks.”
“And you, miss?”
“Club soda,” Portia said meekly.
A thick looking man next to her at the bar snorted.
Bea took her drink and found a table.
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
“What?” Was Bea being dense on purpose?
“That he’s using you? Like you’re some kind of resource to be exploited.”
Bea shrugged. “Everyone’s exploiting my story, I got use to it. Besides, the people should know.”
“Know what?”
“That we found the Hope, that the colony did survive and wasn’t gobbled up by some stupid made-up Gorm.”
Bea’s optimism did not penetrate the dark cloud of Portia’s suspicions. She smiled politely for Bea.
“Don’t’ give me that look.”
“What look?” More smiling.
“That one, the humoring an old woman look. You are not humoring me. I am not some senile old woman chasing a fantasy. We are going to find the Hope. My sister is still out there.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Whatever you say.”
“Damn skippy. Now I need the loo.” Bea sat down her drink abruptly and left, disappearing into the dark recesses of the bar.
Portia fiddled with her drink nervously. She didn’t need to accompany her elderly granny to the toilets. She wasn’t going to hover around the door in a pretense of looking out for Bea’s welfare.
A man with a large dashing hat and a closely trimmed red beard sat down at the tale with her. He swept off the hat and gave a short bow in one motion. Portia had never been face to face with a man who looked so much like a real pirate before. Sure, Turkish, but he looked more like a suave nightclub owner than actual pirate. This man was all pirate.
“Can I help you,” Portia started.
“You Clovelly?”
“Yes,” her voice tiny.
“An’ you headin’ out to Eden Twelve?”
“Yes,” her voice even tinier.
“I believe we can do business.”
Business with a pirate. Oh joy.
The man produced a small cube made of clear plastic on the table. Embedded in the cube was a chip.
“What is it?” Portia asked.
“The last transmission from the Hope.”
“I already have that,” Portia said. “From just before they landed.”
The pirate was clearly not in the mood for snappy bartering with one liners. “Listen, will ya. This chip came off the Hope, that’s all I’m saying, and it might be worth your time to investigate.”
Portia held the cube in her hand. She held it up to the light. There, etched lightly into the surface of the chip, was a distinct hologram: Crosby Enterprises.
She kept her facial expression neutral as she set the cube back down on the table. “How much to investigate?”
“One thousand UGOs.”
Portia sucked in her breath. That was a lot of credit. “You think I’m smegging made out of money? Five hundred UGOs.”
“That’s an insult. Nine hundred.”
“Six hundred and fifty.”
“No deal.”
“Look, I don’t know how long you’ve been hauling around that little cube there, but I can guarantee you that I’m the only person on this station who’s willing to purchase it.”
“I’ve got lots of bidders. It’s a collectable. This could go for a fortune on auction.”
Portia chewed her lower lip. “It could, but I’m guessing that you don’t really want a high profile sale. I mean, I’m more than happy to arrange the auction details for you.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew the data pad.
She scanned the object and took a picture. Flipping the data pad around briefly, she showed the picture to the pirate. “Unique collectable,” she typed. “Last transmission from the Hope colony ship.”
She stopped typing and looked the man in the eyes. “What else should we say? Where you acquired said object? Who else might be looking for it? Another collector, perhaps.”
“Six hundred seventy five,” the pirate said, running a hand nervously through his reddish hair.
“Sold.” A quick exchange of credit and the cube was Portia’s. No she only needed to figure out how to open the thing.
“What’s what?” Bea returned to the table with another drink.
“Something rare and wonderful,” Portia said. Her fingernail found the minuscule clasp and the cube fell open into two halves, leaving the chip exposed like the seed of a fruit.
Portia delicately picked up the chip and slide it into her data pad.
Before she could even see if it was compatible, a holo simulation sprang to life from the screen. The data pad clattered to the tabletop in surprise.
A young woman was speaking. Portia recognized her as Ofelia Clovelly, the one who gave all the crew reports before the transmissions suddenly ended.
“Mom, I don’t know if you’ll get this. I wanted to make the code hard enough to Tyler not to notice but easy enough for you to spot. Not too hard, I know. Listen, we’re nearly at the new planet but Tyler’s acting…weird.
“I’m worried that he’s going to do something. Something stupid, maybe. Something with Rex, I don’t know, but he’d been more hot headed than usual and everyone’s been calling me Captain Clovelly and that seem to make him more angry. I’m worried.
“Be careful. Get here safely. How do I turn this off?”
A man, a little younger looking than Ofelia, briefly entered the screen and pushed a button off to one side. The transmission ended.
Portia picked up the data pad and hugged it to her chest. That was amazing. They had proof. They were no longer on a fool’s errand.
“I told you they were alive,” said Bea, who did not need proof but had faith.

Turkish’s Killer Plan

Turkish’s meeting was at 0700 hours, a bit early for Portia’s tastes, but she arrived on time. Today she was wearing a vivid green dress, knee length with her favorite white boats and a long gossamer greenish golden robe that floated behind her like a cloud when she walked.
It seemed the party was already waiting for her. Big Julie and his Weasel Man was waiting, drinking an orange beverage that Portia suspected was not strictly juice. The Boone Fabulous Clone Twelve was also drinking an orange beverage, which confirmed that it was not strictly orange juice. His manager Robin Slick sat besides him with a sour look on her face. She clearly needed some morning orange colored juice. Bea was waiting and waved brightly at Portia. Also were two others individuals the author is not going to describe now but will hold them in reserve in case she needs more characters to pull off the heist. It’s a dirty trick, I know, but what you going to do about it?
A large man, brick like in shape and density, sat with his hands on the table and said nothing. He did not take his eyes off the table but Portia had a feeling that he was watching every one in the room very carefully.
The Weasel Man was sitting next to Big Julie. Unfortunately, they were both wearing matching outfits again. Portia sat opposite the table from Big Julie.
Franklin entered the room after her and sat at the opposite end of the table.
“Big Julie says he appreciates a woman with moxie, with spirit,” Weasel Man said.
“Tell Big Julie thank you for me and please let him know how much I appreciate a man who is forthright and honest about his feelings and doesn’t manipulate people or lead them on.”
“Big Julie’s sitting right here.”
“Nonetheless.”
Laredo was in close orbit to Jupiter. The red plant was huge above them, massive and blocking most of the view, creating the optical illusion that the planet was falling towards the station.
Turkish arrived last. Clearly he had a sense of the dramatic and was wearing a shirt the same color as his hair.
“Thank you for your promptness,” he said, sitting in the chair at the head of the table. “No doubt you’ve wondered why I’ve gathered you all here this morning.”
Turkish chuckled at his own joke.
“Big Julie wants to know what’s the payout,” Weasel Man said.
Turkish held up a hand. “I know you are all here by hook or by crook but let me assure that your participation may be less than voluntary, you will be amply rewarded. Let me show you something interesting.”
He pressed buttons on the table and a holo of a Drive ship was projected. It hung in amber perfection, spanning the length of the table. Sleek and very, very fast, it was the crowning achievement of the Corporation and the pinnacle of modern technology.
“This is the Chairman of the Board,” Turkish said. “It is currently docked at the Juno Access Station not but a week from here.” The Juno Access Station was built on the far side of Jupiter to replace the defunct Laredo Station. It housed a Slingshot and lots of other Corporate ships.
“Very pretty,” the Brick said. “But you didn’t mean to entertain us with pretty pictures.
“Quiet right,” Turkish said. “I had to the good fortune to intercept a message from Martin Ang.”
The message played, audio only. It was short and brief (figure out what it says later).
Big Julie leaned forward in interest.
Weasel Man said, “Big Julie is lead to believe that Martin Ang plans on, shall we say, relieving the Corporation of the Chairman of the Board and this fact is of interest to you.”
“Big Julie is a very observant man,” Turkish said. “Yes, Martin Ang is planning on stealing the chairman of the Board. My contacts indicate that he has been planning this for a very long time and has plants Corporate side to aid his endeavor.”
Turkish glanced in Portia’s direction. “Now, I can’t tell you how much Martin Ang sticks in my caw and how much more the thought of Martin Ang with a Drive Ship irritates me. It gets me to wondering if there isn’t something we can do to take the ship off Martin’s hands.”
Brick laughed loudly and slapped the table with his large right hand. “Good and shiny, you are a devil, Turkish.”
“Handsome profits for everyone all around and cancellation of your debts,” Turkish said. “I want this ship and I want to see the look on Martin Ang smug smegging face when we speed away with the damn ship.”
The holo of the Chairman of the Board slowly rotated. After a complete revolution, it was replaced by the holo of the Juno Access Station. The station was large, well guarded, not filled with a lot of convenient nooks and crannies good for hiding and plotting, and the station was currently the most secure location under corporate control.
“Big Julie wants to know what’s the catch,” Weasel Man said.
“The catch is this is very difficult, extremely dangerous, and when I ran the calculations, we have a sixteen percent chance of success.”
“Why us,” Portia said.
“Excellent question,” Turkish said. “Franklin said you were sharp and right he was. Good eye, good eye. Well, firstly, you all possess the skills needed to successfully infiltrate the June Access Station and secondly, you owe me, thus driving down the price of negotiations. If I was not such a generous man, and I am a generous man, I could pass the job on to someone else and you would still be in my debt. And repayment then might not be so pleasant.”
Portia hardly considered this a pleasant repayment.
The station’s holo flickered and was replaced with an advertisement for Boone Fabulous Clone Twelve live for one night only!
“You are all now part of the Boone Fabulous Clone Twelve’s road crew. Congratulations and welcome to the world of showbiz.”
Turkish leaned back in his chair. “Twelve is our front man and how we get into the station. So generous of him, willing to entertain the Corporate employees for what, believe me, won’t cover the cost of fuel to get there.”
“Are you honestly expecting a show?” Twelve asked.
“There will be show,” Turkish said.
“Wait a minute,” Robin Slick said, leaning forward in her seat. “I’m Twelve’s manager and you can not book shows for him without my permission. It’s a violation of my contract.”
“Robin, I suggest you quiet your mouth or you’ll find yourself exactly where a wash-up middle aged groupie should be.”
Robin’s lips pressed firmly together and she did not look happy.
Bea laughed and tried to hide it with a cough.
“We’ll need a killer pilot, of course,” Turkish said. “Think you can fly a Drive Ship?”
“I can fly anything,” Bea said.
“Big Julie wants to know what his role is, exactly, in this affair,” Weasel Man said.
“I will need his remarkable powers of persuasion,” Turkish said.
For the first time, emotion flickered across Big Julie’s face, indicating that Big Julie’s powers of persuasion were not due to his amazing oratory ability.
“And me?” Franklin asked.
“On the surface, you’re the Entourage for Twelve, make it seem believable, like he in no way could be plotting to steal a ship. What I actually need you to do for me is to be my eyes and ears in the field. You call the shots, you organize the team.”
Franklin nodded.
“Brick is our gun man.”
Brick grinned. “Luckily for you I brought my very favorite gun with me.”
“What about me?” Portia asked.
“You, darling, possess a Corporate Identity Signature, which we need to infiltrate the system. Plus, you have knowledge of Corporate Machines and their programming oddities.” That much was true. The Corporation deliberately wrote in bugs and flaws into coding to act as traps to prevent hacking. Nasty tricks.
“I’m transmitting details to your Data Pads. Essentially we are going to let Martin Ang do all the work for us, piggyback on his efforts, and then run away very quickly.”
“We can run away pretty fast with that ship,” Bea said.
“When do we leave?” Franklin asked.
“Tonight. Twelve needs to be on stage in one week.”