Logbook entry

CCC3 - part 13, new leads at Eagle's Landing

Eagle's Landing is a small colony roughly halfway between Sol and Colonia. The surrounding nebula glows purple and gold providing some compensation for the rather limited lives its inhabitants lead.



"We should look for evidence that Dood was here," I say and, before anyone can suggest it's my job to track down the woman or women that he spent time with, I add: "I'll make a start on traffic reports; why don't you three visit the bars and eateries?"

"I see what you did there," Tay says wryly.

"One of the advantages of being the lead investigator," I say.

"Is that how you see yourself?" she says even more wryly.

Tay leaves with Mai and Jaquelyn and I enjoy having the ship to myself for a while. I soon realise, however, that the normal traffic reports don't go back far enough and I'll have to visit Flight Control.

*

Nikolai Pushtin's large frame crushes the chair in which he slouches at his workstation, and this is despite the low gravity of the moon. He monitors an arc of screens in front of him, eyes scanning from views of landing pads and nearby space, to lists of incoming and outgoing ships. A scrolling screen shows a voice-to-text recording of communications.

Crumbs of pies and flakes of pastry cascade down the front of his tunic as he cracks open a can of fizzy drink, taken from the line of cans standing on the desk.

The chair creaks as he swivels to look at me.

"They said at the front desk that you'd be able to help me," I say, holding up my private investigator's badge. It expired a month age, but he doesn't need to know that. "I'm looking for a pilot who might have passed through here about a month ago."

A quiet ping from a speaker grabs his attention. He turns back to the screens and raises one finger, index not middle, to silence me. "Let me just deal with this docking request."

He allocates the Cutter to pad zero-seven and asks a circling Viper to perform a scan of the ship.

"Do you got a name and a ship?" he asks while bringing up a search screen.

"Eldrin Dood, flying a Corvette."

"Okay, let's see what we got."

The search takes only a few seconds and one record pops up on the screen.

"Oh, sure, I remember this guy. We won't be so amicable next time he comes callin'."

"How so?"

I'm happy to interject with the occasional open question, letting Pushtin drill down into the details and do most of the talking.

"Came in all quiet and friendly, but we're always wary when a combat ships docks here. The local cops have a goodly list of misdemeanours against him–drunk and disorderly, importing onionhead, failure to pay coupla hookers, yatter, yatter, yatter."

"But that's not all?"

"No, sir, we heaped the fines on him and he just smiled and said, certainly, he'd go over to the nearest base with Contacts and pay up."

"Didn't he pay? That's not so serious is it?"

"Well, he went to d1-105, that's where the asteroid base is, and he paid the fines like it was an amount of money he wouldn't bend down to pick up, but then he sprung a coupla wronguns from The Rock–Eagle Sector Security's a prison colony in case you didn't know."

"And he escaped with them?"

"Shot his way out, destroying authority ships as he went–one of them a cousin of mine, may the galaxy rest her soul."

"Who did he spring?"

Pushtin shrugs. "Can't help you with that."

There's another ping as the Cutter asks to be released from its pad, and I decide to let Pushtin get on with his job.

*

I find a bar with a phone and put in a call to Lex Dexter, prison governor for Eagle Sector Security Facility. After brief introductions and explanations I get to it.

"Governor, can you tell me who escaped when Eldrin Dood visited you?"

I can't see the embarrassment that I suspect he feels, but I hear the reticence in his voice.

"Erm, it was two of our worst inmates. I'm sorry to say that they are now at large and able to continue their lives of crime, rebellion, and antisocial behaviour."

"And their names?"

Again, a pause, as though he doesn't want to believe it's true.

"Kurt Vile and Ethan Strang."

I immediately latch onto the Strang connection.

"Is Ethan related to Eldrin's father, Ard Strang?"

"They're all part of the Strang clan, Commander; cousins, uncles, grandfathers and grandchildren; they're very tightly knit. We were lucky to get the lead that enabled us to incarcerate Ethan. I wouldn't advise going up against them single-handed."

"And Vile, what can you tell me about him?"

"What's that expression? Vile by name...

"He's related to the Strangs through a female line, but has all the genetics predisposing him to cunning, violence, and general psychopathy…oh, and he's an ace combat pilot."

"Anything else you can tell me, Governor Dexter?"

There's a pause.

"Only one odd thing; that was about the battle outside the base. The ships that engaged him–the ones that survived that is–reported that the Corvette had a weapon they didn't recognise, a huge, fixed cannon.

"I've heard about this," I say.

"Even odder, they say, is that Dood didn't fire the cannon once during their combat with him."

"I know why that is," I say, "No ammunition."


I'm leaving the bar as Tay enters looking as pleased as a Sidewinder pilot making their first step up to a Hauler. Following her in is a woman I don't recognise.

"Ah, there you are," she says. "Small place, but easy to lose someone."

"Who's this?" I say, looking more closely at Tay's companion. I can half guess the connection; there's a downmarket glamour to her appearance. The leopard-print coat is synthetic, her hair colour from a bottle, her nails and lashes glued on. What's real and true are the scar across her face and the bewildered, desperate look in her eyes that speaks of decades of abuse, probably beginning in childhood and continuing relentlessly ever since.



"This is Chelsea; I said I'd buy her a brandy in exchange for her story involving you know who."

"And I'm waiting," Chelsea says impatiently, with an air of half expecting to be disappointed. "I told you what I know, so time to pay."

We find a booth and order a round of drinks.

"Will you tell Commander Linton what you told me?" Tay says.

Chelsea turns to me; she's nervous, like she's not sure there won't be repercussions for talking about her customers.

"You spent time with Eldrin Dood?" I ask in a level voice, and I see the same flash of fear that I saw in Mai's face after her nightmare.

"I did, just one night, though."

Tay sees Chelsea's reticence and tries to coax more out of her.

"Tell us about the talking in his sleep."

"Oh, yeah, that. He repeated the same words over and over like he was going over a plan in his head so he wouldn't forget it–your friend here seems to think it's names, places, dates, that kind of thing."

"What can you remember?" I ask, controlling my own emotions. "Anything you can give us will be very useful."

"Well," Chelsea says, "a lot of it was gibberish to me. He said things like: 'tears embolden centralised a mask, lost cracker, luck taint brig, rat-run dream'."

Tay looks at me, nodding encouragingly, expecting me to make sense of it.

"What?" I say, confused.

"Listen," Tay says, "Tir Bolden, Centralis Damask, Los Kraken, Luchtaine Brig, Ratraii Dream. They are all locations in Colonia, and you know what I think? I think they're targets for this antimatter weapon he's got."

I'm shocked. This mission is turning out to be quite different from the one I thought I was taking on. I'm supposed to be tracking down some antimatter containment designs for Amaryllis Dood and taking them to Etienne Dorn. Now it seems there's an antimatter weapon in play and Eldrin Dood's agenda is more important.

"What else did he say?" I ask Chelsea, who seems more confident now. "Something about dates, was it?"

"There was something about surprise Christmas presents, December twenty latest, backup festival e-fake clay golf three one. Like I said, it made no sense to me, but he repeated it so many times it stuck in my head."

"I've checked," Tay says, "there's a system called Eephaik CL-Y G31 in the Festival Ground area which, as we know, is on a direct route between the Thequa sector and Gandharvi."

I try to piece together Dood's plan.

"We think there's a fleet of Type-9s that has scooped antihydrogen in the antimatter system Thequa AA-A j0. Dood wants antimatter for his cannon and they are going to meet at Gandharvi. It sounds to me like, if the fleet doesn't get to Gandharvi by the twentieth of December, Dood will go and meet them in the Festival Ground. Make sense?"

"Pretty much what I was thinking. But are we too far behind to do anything about it?"

"Well, it looks like we have until Christmas day to act—and, Tay, I'm coming round to your way of thinking, that Eldrin Dood has to be stopped, just for different reasons."

"Let's get on, then," she says. "The galaxy's turning."

"One more thing," I say, turning to Chelsea. "For your information, which might save a lot of lives, I'm paying you fifty million credits. I suggest you use it to get off this rock and start a new life elsewhere."