In-Depth conversation
03 Sep 2020Kodeyne
Ophelia was surprised to find herself whistling a happy tune as Falling Angel headed for its landing pad on Merbold Ring. Partly because she knew fine well she had the musical ability of a pulverised Thargoid, but also because, just for once, she was in a good mood. Why? She had learned not to ask why in this situation, just to accept it and enjoy it while it lasted.The Python settled and she powered down the engines. Sell all that bauxite in the hold...maybe not a monster profit, but as her mentor once said, ‘any profit is better than none.’ The ship descended into the hanger. Rolling her head and swinging her arms to try and loosen up neck and shoulders, she paced to the galley, set the kettle going and tapped at the screen of her datapad. Only two messages that weren't rubbish; she didn’t need cheap meds and she was quite happy with her breasts the size they were.
The kettle clicked and she made herself a mug of tea. First message…from Tolkien Shipyard, Jameson Memorial.
“Hi CMDR Koydene. Progress message as requested: My, what big teeth you have, grandma. Eh, you are so weird, milady. All the best. Chief technician O’Brady.”
She laughed. A project that had been a long time coming together was close to completetion. The other message was, hmm, a little unexpected.
“Galmail notification. We have a packet waiting for you at the Merbold Ring delivery office.”
Ah, she thought, probably Mikael again. Every so often, little gifts would turn up from him – usually samples of rare goods from across the bubble. She didn’t mind in the least; she knew he wasn’t trying to bribe or charm his way back into her bed (as much as she would like that!), it was just the nice gesture of someone who she knew genuinely cared about her. As she cared about him - deep down, they were soul mates. Even though they both were painfully aware they could never be together.
Browsed idly through the local news, sipping tea. The usual mix of death, misery and celeb gossip. As long as it got the readership figures up. “I hate people so much!” she snapped to the empty air.
Drained the mug, and psyched herself up to leave the ship. Breathe in. Breathe out. I am calm. I can do this.
Showed her ID at the delivery office, and took receipt of a good old-fashioned letter in an envelope. And a sealed plastic cover. She thanked the man at the desk and wandered back outside. A red and white banded security strip adorned the back of the cover. As her fingers reached for it, she noticed the words written in big capitals on the back of the envelope.
PLEASE READ THIS IN PRIVATE
She blinked, casually slotted the letter inside her jacket and made her way back to the ship.
Another mug of tea. A double shot of bourbon inexplicably found its way into the preparation process. Sat at the galley table, she carefully peeled the security strip off and removed the silvery-grey envelope. Nothing more than FAO CMDR KOYDENE C/O GALMAIL D.O, MERBOLD RING written on the front. Sliding a finger to open the flap, there was nothing inside; instead, the envelope itself unfolded to reveal the content inscribed on its inner surface.
The printed letterhead:
Monfort Investigations
Unit 3732
Clement Orbital
YZ Ceti.
And then the same handwriting as on the outside.
“Commander Myshkin. Please travel ASAP to the following location. I await you there with news.
Synuefe VM-D C15-10 2A Lat 7.7146 Long -89.0074
Watch your six, as they say.
Benevolent regards,
Cornelius Monfort.”
Ophelia’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh my….” she breathed. Made her way to the cockpit, pulled up the galaxy map. Just over seven hundred LY! She folded the letter into a pocket and gulped down the remaining tea. Cabin, kitbag, some bits and pieces. She shut down Falling Angel and was almost to the hatch when she swore and headed back to the cockpit. On the left hand side of the main console, was a ceramic bowl containing a small example of Echinocereus engelmannii, the strawberry hedgehog cactus.
“Fucking hell, Caractacus, nearly went without you!” She gently turned the bowl until it clicked and came free from its stand. Held the little succulent up and grinned at it. “An adventure, Caractacus, a trip into the black! Let’s go!”
The Python went into the storage area, and she entered a different hanger as another ship was brought out. Keeping a firm grip on Caractacus, she paused on the edge of the landing pad and stared at her old Asp Explorer, Devil’s Daydream. Seeing the flaking paint, the decorative corroded spikes and other bits of metalwork adorning the hull. Despite the outwards appearance, she had spent quite a bit of time upgrading and modernising the vessel’s internals. But it was the memories associated with this craft that flooded over her now. It was her main ship for a long time, she had flown it out on the traditional 5K journey, it had carried her to Hutton Orbital, it had...it had transported Alison away from Mars and all the horror that had happened to her there. She swallowed and snuffled back the encroaching tears. Oh, Ali...
The boarding ramp clunked down. She straightened and slowly walked up into the ship.
Synuefe VM-D C15-10 2A was a world shrouded in gloom. Its parent gas giant orbited nearly seven and a half thousand LS from the sun; even a G-class star grew faint at that distance. She peered at the moon as the Asp cruised in, fascinated. A crumpled, folded orb of ice, rent with deep canyons. Even when orbital flight kicked in, she was hard-pressed to make out any significant details.
The crevassed landscape swept past as she got the ship’s computer to calculate the required bearing. She diverted maximum power to the engines, and sat and watched the coordinate numbers counting away on the HUD.
It was not the deepest chasm on the moon, but it was deep enough. She clicked the night vision system on, slowing right down as she drifted towards the bottom. Where is he?
Just as doubt and fear began to trickle into her mind, a flickering trace appeared on the scanner. Angling towards the contact, she could just make out the shape of another starship ahead. A landed vessel had a significantly reduced heat output, so she would have to be close before she could be sure. Almost instinctively, Ophelia set the power systems to her preferred fighting configuration, and readied the weapons. Devil’s Daydream might be an exploration vessel these days, but it still had plenty of firepower…
The angular, insectoid form of a Diamondback Explorer sat on the broad alley floor. She set the Asp down maybe fifty metres away. Almost immediately, the COVAS reported a hail.
“Greetings, Commander Kodeyne. It’s good to see you.” It was Monfort, all right.
“Commander Monfort. Likewise. Nice place you picked to rendezvous!”
He chuckled. “I’d been here before, on a recommendation. It is a touch unusual though, you have to admit.”
“Absolutely. Almost a shame it’s in darkness. I don’t think the night vision does it justice.”
“I would agree with you there. So, to business…” she heard his fingers busy on a keyboard. “Have a look at this, Commander Myshkin.”
She brought up the incoming file on a screen. She stared at the man’s face, stomach churning.
“That’s him?” She managed to keep a firm grip on her emotions.
“Yes. You are looking at Morgan Estri, CBO of Dobie-Bachmann Systems. A very wealthy, powerful individual.”
“How did you find out?”
Monfort related his trip to Olympus Village, his futile interviews, the encounter with the blond man, and the covert delivery of the business card. “Read the text,” he said. She did so.
“I...almost don’t know what to say…” Ophelia murmured, her mind overwhelmed at the level of Estri’s depravity and reach. Monfort’s reply was quiet as well.
“As I said once...I’ve seen this sort of thing before. But not on such a scale.”
“So what is the next step, Mr. Monfort? How do we even begin to bring such a person down? If corruption in the FSS is as ripe as you say…and not just there.”
There were a few seconds of silence. The hiss of the carrier wave, the soft thrum of the Asp’s power plant as it ticked over.
“There is...somebody I think can be trusted. She isn’t FSS, or even part of the regular legal system. Vice-Admiral Eleanor Mertens. Judge Advocate General of the Federation Navy. If anyone is beyond reproach, it should be her.”
“Knowing you, I suspect you have a way to get in touch with her without clawing through miles of red tape.”
“Funny you should say that…”