Favors Part 7
22 Jun 2024Vasil Vasilescu
(Following Title of Marque Part 6)Vasil eased the Long Road closer to the Jester, moving the Type 9 into the shadow of the crippled carrier until the proximity warnings began flashing.
“Victor, lock minimum distance to target at ten meters, all surfaces,” he told the COVAS. Ten meters should be far enough to avoid becoming tangled in any of the Jester’s twisted wreckage, but close enough to still operate while remaining hidden. Or at least as hidden as a Type 9 could ever be.
Vasil checked the long range sensors before switching them from active to passive. Now that the Löwe was in its final jump stage, the combined raider forces gathered around the Jester like sharks to a whale carcass.
The IIS, Patreus Sentinels, and a few imperial bounty hunters fought raiders in small, inconsequential skirmishes at the edge of the exclusion zone the raiders had established around the Jester. The Sentinels as well as a few local bounty hunters had arrived soon after major Stiles issued IIS bounties on all raider transponders in the battle, but they had not come in sufficient numbers to make a difference. The number and reputation of Vengerfield’s raiders deterred most of the independents, leaving only a few Imperial loyalists to answer the bounty call.
It was enough of a distraction, though, for Vasil to approach the Jester unmolested. He had to do something to help. After all, he’d brought an end to the Jester and four generations of Red Jades because of a favor.
He would not be here if he had not told Lady Lambast Mercy about Red Jade’s plan to ambush the Anansi before the Anansi could ambush the Jester. He did it as a favor, helping Mercy in hopes of making her more agreeable to the Emerald Repatriation Society establishing a small town and building her a starport on Cubeo. She had ships in the battle helping Vodan, but had not yet made a personal appearance.
At first, he was curious to see how the battle turned out. Logically, Vasil knew he should not care about the outcome of the fight, or Mercy’s absence, as long as the favor bore fruit in the future. However, an illogical guilt started to gnaw at him as the battle turned against the Jester. Guilt is a virulent thing. It lingers like a dormant cancer, forgotten, until something triggers a relapse. Then it quickly spreads, the growing malignancy consuming thoughts and compelling action.
Vasil still carried the guilt that his actions -and later inaction- had ruined his sister, Elena, and forced her into slavery. Now, his actions had led to the Jester being crippled. Further inaction would consign Red Jade to whatever fate the pirates had planned for her. He could not let that happen. The trick would be to interfere without endangering any good will he’d established with Lady Lambast.
In spite of the guilt driving him to help Red Jade, Vasil considered it a business decision rather than one of personal accountability. At least, that is what he told himself. It was what he always told himself in times like this. Business was an easier rationalization than admitting that maybe -just maybe- there was still a small part of him that cared about what was right more than what was profitable.
Vasil switched the HUD to an infrared overlay and started datalink scanning for active comm arrays near large heat sources.
“There we are,” he said, targeting a usable array and bringing the Long Road close to a damaged heat exchanger to help mask the ship’s heat signature. “Victor, program recon limpet and launch at target. Focus all comm channels.”
The limpet attached itself to the array and in short order broke into the Jester’s internal communications. The carrier’s communications were as shattered as the Jester. With Red Jade and her Chief Mate missing, and CIC in the hands of boarders, command and control crumbled. Aside from a few holdouts vainly trying to defend the ship, the battle was over for the Jester.
Too late, thought Vasil, until hearing something amidst the jumbled, intermittent comm channels.
“Team York, we have a positive Red Jade biosignature. Ventral maintenance tunnel 37, frame number 632.”
“Roger, Lancaster. We’re on it.”
* * *
Marcella “Red Jade” Enciso disengaged from the power coupler. “No more juice on this one,” she told Bill, her sigh briefly fogging the inside of her helmet.
What’s your air and power,” Bill asked.
Marcella checked her suit. “Just over five minutes and forty-one percent.”
“Yeah, about the same for me. I thought we’d get to another powered part of the ship by now, or at least find a working emergency battery station.” Bill looked back the way they’d come and then ahead. The torch beam on the helmet of the bulky repair suit slashed through the dark, vacuum-filled maintenance tunnel. “We’ve come too far to go back to the engineering locker. We’ll have to go on and hope we find something.”
“Or… I could just give myself up. This Hooder asshole is all over the comm saying all he wants is me. If it keeps anyone else from being hurt-”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” interrupted Bill. “You can’t trust people like him. It was a bit too convenient that he had other ships joining the fight and assault crews ready to board the Jester. He wants you for a reason, Marcella.”
“Red…Marque,” said a warbling voice intruding on their suit-to-suit link. “They are after your Title of Marque.”
“What? Who’s this,” demanded Marcella. “How do you know they want the Marque, and how did you get into our suit comms?”
“I’m a friend,” said Vasil, “How I know what they want is not important, but if I am in the suit comm, you can bet the assault team chasing you down will get into it soon enough. They know where you are and are on their way.”
Marcella threw a worried glance to Bill. He nodded toward the power coupler. They had been checking couplers along the way and some must have had just enough power remaining to record the connection and send the info to CIC. “Did Major Stiles send you,” asked Bill?
“Stiles is keeping the pirates occupied for now, but there’s not much time.” Vasil’s answer straddled the line between truth and lie. The Major was engaging pirates but not to distract them from Vasil. Most people tended to believe what they wished when given half-truths, and Vasil was willing to let Marcella and Bill believe whatever made them feel better. It saved him from explaining that he was partially to blame for their situation.
Vasil did not give them the chance to ask more questions. “Life station CRP-6 is 75 meters away from you. It has partial power and escape pods. If you get to it and eject, I can pick you up, but you better hurry. I don’t know how much longer Stiles can hold out, and I’ve lost the assault team’s channel so I have no idea where they are.”
We can’t trust him, Bill silently mouthed to Marcella.
“Your voice sounds familiar,” said Marcella. “You were on the Jester asking about the pirates and the illegal slaves, weren’t you?”
“I was.” Vasil had no clue how she managed to recognize his voice with all of the comm static. Sensing some hesitance to accept his help, Vasil gambled that the truth would alleviate any doubts. “Vasilecu is the name. I’m going to get you out.”
Bill shook his head and motioned for Marcella to cut the comms. This sounded like a trap to him.
Marcella smiled at Bill, gentle, and placed a calming hand over Bill’s heart He’s good, she reassured him silently. She just felt it to be true.
The sincerity in her eyes convinced Bill to give in, though it sounded to Vasil like the Chief Mate still doubted his intentions. “Okay. On our way. We’ll contact you when we are in place.”
“Bill…” Marcella urgently tugged Bill's arm and pointed back down the maintenance tunnel. Distant lights from one of the labyrinthine side tunnels briefly cast dancing and misshapen shadows into the maintenance tunnel before an intense beam of light swung in their direction and flooded the tunnel.
The close field receptors in Marcella’s helmet, intended for open communications between suits, picked up a shout from another suit and relayed it over Vasil’s link. “There she is! Go! Go! Go!”
“Run!” barked Vasil, engaging the thrusters. “I’ll meet you at the pods. Victor, disengage minimum distance.”
The Long Road charged forward, skimming the surface of the Jester, plowing through twisted beams jutting from the torn hull and sending pieces of wreckage careening away. “Victor, launch collectors, 30 second intervals.” He wanted to be sure fresh collectors were ready to snatch up the escape pods as soon as they ejected.
Vasil listened to Marcella’s heavy, erratic breathing mix with the sounds relayed by her helmet receptors as she and Bill ran to the life station. He had no idea how close behind Marcella the assault team was, but he knew it was close enough for the receptors to sometimes pick up shouts from the assault team in the cramped maintenance tunnels.
Vasil reached the escape pod tubes and positioned the Long Road for quick retrieval at about the same time as Marcella and Bill made it to the life station. A black scar left by a beam laser cut across the pod tubes, exposing their mangled launch rails.
Bill slapped the emergency activation. Of the ten pods, only three rose into position and slid open. The escape protocols engaged, but none of the pods passed their launch checks. A fourth, damaged pod rose half way and became jammed in the tube. The pod, along with its occupant, had been crushed like an aluminum can after forcing a safety override while trying to eject. What remained inside was recognizable only as a paste of meat and bone.
“Shit,” snarled Bill. “The launch tubes are damaged. These are goddamn useless.”
“We have to keep moving,” said Marcella, beathing heavy. The bulky maintenance suits they wore were designed to be rugged, not form-fitting and nimble. Moving at anything other than a brisk walk, even in zero-G, required exhausting effort. “They are right behind us.”
Vasil knew if Marcella and Bill ran that he’d not have another chance to get them off the Jester. “No,” he said, “Get in the pods. I'll cut you out.”
Marcella hesitated.
Acting fast, Bill wedged her in a pod and sealed the door. Her helmet visor slid up automatically once pressure was equalized and atmosphere established. She breathed in the anticeptic air as the pod began flooding with the narco agents used to put escapees into suspended sleep.
“Don’t worry,” said Bill patting the viewport on Marcella’s pod. “I think I know his plan.”
“Stop right there!”
Bill turned around. Four people in dominator suits aimed weapons at him, two blocking each exit from the life station.
The team lead noted blinking red error lights above the pods and indicated the damaged escape pod with a small nod. “Don't be like your friend there. You’ll be tenderized if you try to eject, and none of us want that.” Another small, barely seen motion sent two others moving cautiously to flank and get better crossfire on Bill. “Now, why don’t you turn around very slowly and let Red Jade out of the pod.”
Marcella pounded on the viewport. “Bill! Bill, let me out. They’ll kill you if you don’t!”
“Listen to the girl. One way or another, she is coming with us.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” said Bill. He increased the power to his electromagnetic boots and anchored himself in place in front of Marcella's pod. If they really wanted Marcella, they’d not risk damaging her now pressurized pod by shooting at him. He had to stall long enough for Vasil to cut into the bay. “I promised someone I’d look after her.”
The team lead heaved an exasperated sigh. “Alright, we’ll do this the hard way. Santorini, Jacobs, get that asshole out of the way.”
Two quick, violent impacts, like punches from a metal giant shook the life bay. Orange spots of light flashed on the ceiling, growing blinding white as heavy plasma cutters sliced through the hull and sent molten metal spraying into the bay.
“Hatchbreakers!” yelled the team lead. “Secure the target!”
Santorini and Jacobs rushed Bill, all three colliding in a tangled melee. The magnetic boots on Bill’s heavy maintenance suit refused to let go of the deck, holding him in place. He fought back as best he could, his helmet and suit absorbing punishing butt strokes from rifles.
Marcella struggled against unconsciousness. The narco agents were rapidly dragging her into sleep and the pod’s safety protocols prevented her from closing her helmet to use her suit air. Her gaze began to blur. The increasing shower from the plasma cutters filled her vision with streaks of white and orange.
A rifle butt to the ankle shattered bone and Bill’s leg bent unnaturally to the side. He shrieked in pain and fell out of Marcella’s fading sight. Jacobs and Santorini wrenched Bill free from his magnetic lock to the deck and heaved him aside.
Bill and Marcella locked eyes just as the team lead set the barrel of his plasma pistol against Bill’s helmet and pulled the trigger.
“BILL!” Anguished tears mixed with narco gas, stinging Marcella’s eyes. She wanted to rage, to pound her way out of the pod, but with consciousness fading, all she could do was weep and slump defeated in the pod as the curtain of plasma sparks gave way to stars.
Vasil watched the two hatchbreakers rip off the last hull plates like old scabs and toss them aside. Laser and plasma shots from the assault team pock-marked the limpets. Like bears to a beehive, the limpets ignored the stings and pushed into the bay to grab their prizes.
The first limpet jetted out with Marcella’s pod clutched in its manipulator arms. The second hesitated, confused that Bill’s biosignature was not in one of the pods. It twisted around wildly, its manipulator arms whipping around like blades as it searched for Bill’s biosignature. Not finding it, the limpet settled on ripping the damaged pod free and boosted from the life bay, trailing debris. Vasil thought he saw bodies being thrown out among the debris in the limpet’s wake but did not stay to find out. As soon as the pods were aboard Vasil ordered Victor to release the breaker limpets and throttled away,
* * *
Vasil kept close to the Jester, running silent. Once he was certain he could pull away without drawing attention he returned to normal heat levels and settled the Long Road into an auto-salvage pattern in the debris field between the Anansi and the Jester. He hid in plain sight, -just another neutral scavenger letting collector limpets grab whatever their sensors detected- while he determined how best to work the situation to his advantage. So far, no one had come to investigate but he knew that would not last much longer. There were too many ships in the area recovering pods and looking for Red Jade. Eventually he’d get scanned and Red Jade would be tagged.
The choice had come down to giving Red Jade to Lady Lambast Mercy, to Vodan, or to neither and just let her go. Letting her go was his preferred, guilt-driven choice for having ruined Red Jade and a legacy of Imperial privateering stretching back four generations. Nothing good would happen to her if he gave Marcella to either Lamb or Vodan.
Not turning her over, however, stood at odds with his sense of familial duty. He knew he could use Red Jade as a bargaining chip to further the political ambitions of his oldest sister, Octavia, and her drive to restore the Vasilecu family to its former Imperial glory. An ERS settlement on Cubeo would be a major step in that direction.
The irony of ruining one family’s Imperial legacy as a steppingstone to reestablish that of his own family did not escape him. Instead, it twisted the knife, driving it deeper until he bled guilt. Maybe if the Encisos and Vasilescus were ancient rivals he could justify giving Marcella to Lamb or Vodan, leaving her to her fate, but there was no Montague-Capulet animosity between the families. Try as he might, Vasil could not see a way to avoid turning Marcella over.
“Analysis complete,” announced Victor. “Pod one occupant, Marcella Enciso, is in stable pod sleep. Pod two has suffered catastrophic failure. Hyper-ruptured human biomass present but contained. Occupant ID, unknown."
“Chunky meat sauce,” mused Vasil leaning back in the pilot’s seat. Yes… that could help solve his dilemma. “Victor, stand by to switch biosignatures between pods one and two.”
“Transferring biosignatures between pods is prohibited by Interstellar Trade Statute number--“
“I know, I know. Just be ready to switch the damn IDs.”
Vasil opened the comm panel and sent a direct, encrypted channel request to the Anansi with the message, “Anansi, this is T-608 Long Road. We have something you want. Perhaps we should talk.” Vasil attached Red Jade’s verified biosignature and initialized the link.