Chapter 4

The guard on his left eyed Xohn for a moment.

“Move along.”

Xohn stood on the deck, surprised.

“Come on! Move along,” the impatient guard waved him on.

He got his feet moving and looked around the bay while following the people in front of him. Now to find a way to these six systems. He exited the bay and made his way to a woman behind a terminal. “Hello,” he greeted her while pulling out his datapad. “I wish for travel to these systems. Is there a place for pilots that you are knowing?” He flung a copy of his list off of his datapad to her terminal. Without looking up, the woman pointed to a holo-sign with a directory of popular locations on the station. The Pilots Lounge was third on the list. “Ahh, perfect. Thank you,” he said with a tired smile and headed down the corridors.

The cramped two-person economy cabin on the Astrum Delphius was luxurious compared to the run-down state of the station. The systems looked ancient. The lights flickered. And there was some sort of corrosion in the bulkheads that looked like a growing infection. There was no decor for the station’s purpose-built design. It was a refinery, that was it. It was going to take the luck of the Oracle to find a pilot here in the middle of nowhere.

He arrived at the Pilots Lounge and looked around. The choices were indeed slim. His attention was first drawn to a guy who’d wrapped his arm around a handhold with the rest of him dangling out in zero-G. He seemed strung out of his mind on some sort of drugs. His first real option was an older woman with more wrinkles than the canyons of Pomeche 2c, adding to an unpleasant looking demeanor. Worse yet, were the telltale signs of significant plastic surgery that gave her facial proportions a surrealism. The only other choice was a man with long, curly, oily black hair that wore a sleeveless leather vest. His rough face, covered with pock-marks, had orangish leathery-like skin very likely due to a vitamin deficiency. He was the sort of person one imagined to be in a pirate gang. The choices were slim, indeed.

Vin approached leather-man, hoping to avoid getting caught up in a gang ritual. “Excuse me,” he spoke with a nervous, quiet voice.

With a grunt and a sneer, the man turned toward him from the bar he’d been leaning against. His nose ring twinkled as it caught the light.

“Excuse me, you… are you a pilot?”

The greasy-haired man looked incredulous. “Ya kidding me right now, are ya?” His voice was raspy. He looked to his left as if talking to someone else and muttered, “‘Am I a pilot?’ he asks in a Pilots Lounge.” Then he turned back to almost shout at Xohn, “What you expecting in ‘ere? An underwater basket weaver?”

“I’m looking for someone to hire.”

“Of course you did, why else would you come in ‘ere?”

“Yes, why indeed,” he already regretted his decision to engage this particular individual.

“So whaddya need? Cargo transfer? Data delivery?” His leathery skin seemed to shift across his bones as he leaned in to listen.

“No, no, a— Just passenger transport. Just me, for six star systems in this region to travel. A pilot that well knows the area is for whom I’m looking.”

“Eh, passenger transport. Not from around ‘ere are ya? I can tell ‘cause of that accent.” The man gave him a suspicious look that gave way to a broad, knowing smile. “That’s a good number of systems. That means expensive. It’ll cost ya.”

“Yes, it will, I expect.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really do passenger transport.”

At that, Miss Plastic Surgery Failure began creeping closer trying to listen in on the negotiations. The encroachment was enough for the pilot to change his tune.

“Right, so, I can take ya, but mind ya, my ship ain’t no cruiser, and you’ll have to sleep in a wall sleeve. Where’re ya headed?”

“Here is the list of systems I have,” he said, pulling out his datapad and offering it to the pilot. “For the trip, 720 thousand credits I can be paying you.”

The pilot’s face went completely neutral while he looked over the list. Without looking up he replied, “Nine ninety.”

“Nine ninety?” Xohn said, puzzled.

“Credits, man!”

“Ahh, yes, this is known as ‘the haggle,’ isn’t it?”

“It’s my price. Oh, and I got another shipment to make on the way.”

“Then if you are taking me on these other deliveries, seven twenty is sufficient.” He said, rather proud of his quick thinking.

The pilot’s eyes narrowed, then he shrugged. “Fine. I’ll take the offer as is, but I make my delivery before sightseeing. Keh, chamba?”

“Your terms are accepted. Mister?” Xohn left it hanging.

“Commander Jimmy Jones. Call me, Jimmy.”

“Very well, Commander Jimmy. I am Vin Xohn.”

“What kinda name is that?”

Xohn shrugged, “I am being from Kuwemaki.” He said not knowing how else to respond.

“Ugh, Kuwees. At least you’re good for the credits then.”

“What time is for leaving?” Xohn couldn’t hold back his excitement.

“Now keep yuh magshoes on.” The pilot worked his datapad to enter the agreement into the Pilots Federation database. He registered his thumbprint and DNA to certify the agreement. Then he flipped the datapad around to offer it for Xohn. After providing his print he felt the need to wipe the grease off his thumb. The pilot pocketed the datapad with an ugly smile. He gestured toward the exit, they both started out of the lounge. “We’re down in bay two.” He motioned to a corridor ahead.

Xohn followed along, bags still floating and jerking forward in zero-G with every step he took. They arrived in the bay, to a pitifully small and narrow wedge-shaped craft. Xohn wasn’t studied on the makes and models of ships to know what it was, except that it was small, especially compared to the cruise liner he arrived on. The paint was mostly stripped away. There were large dents in the hull like it was used in some game with asteroids. The tail winglets were both mangled. If it was space-worthy, its appearance did not inspire any amount of confidence. Of course, Vin wasn’t going to upset his new pilot, so he held his tongue. But, inside, his stomach lurched. He really hated space travel.

They walked up the ship’s ramp, and Jimmy turned back, “Welcome aboard the Heme. Ya can stow your bags up there.” He pointed to an overhead compartment toward the cockpit of the ship. “I don’t get many visitors, so don’t expect much.”

Xohn nodded and negotiated his bags in the small corridor. Then a distinct smell hit Xohn’s nostrils. He couldn’t quite place what it was.

“Yeah, don’t uh, don’t mind the smell. It’s the cargo; foodstuffs for a remote outpost. That’s where we’re headed first.” Jimmy opened the cockpit door, settled into his command chair, and started tapping through ship systems. The ship seemed to come alive as the sequence of systems powered up. He continued to work across panels and check different subsystems of the ship. The cramped cockpit was scarcely large enough for Xohn to stand beside Jimmy with his magshoes locked to the deck.

“Alright, let’s get this majestic beast off the deck.” The raspiness in his voice was more pronounced in the small confines of the cockpit. Xohn rolled his eyes at the pilot’s melodramatic description of his vessel. Jimmy tapped the controls to request a transfer to the surface. With a jolt, the landing pad lurched, then lifted the ship to deliver it outside the station. He felt the movements much more than on the cruise liner.

Although small, the cockpit windows afforded an expansive view of the buildings around the landing pad and stars beyond. Sounds of clamps releasing reverberated through the cockpit, and Xohn felt a sudden floating sensation. He reached for an overhead handhold to steady himself against the pilot’s movements that continued making his stomach queasy.

“Off we go.” Jimmy manipulated the controls. More mechanical sounds came from some distant part of the ship. Floating free, the ship throttled up and moved away from the station.

“Your delivery is going where?” Xohn asked.

“Glist. A tiny little outpost, one system over. It’ll be a quick stop, I promise ya that.”

“Glist? Is not a name I’ve ever heard.”

“Course not, yer not from around here. Charts all say Gliese 170.1. Everyone ‘round the Hyades calls it Glist.” He tapped into the navigation menu and plotted the jump.

“Is some sort of local name?”

“Lotsa places around here have their own names from the locals. Nobody likes using the whaddya call it names… the technical-like names: H-I-P 22607, who remembers that? There’s scores of H-I-P systems in the sector. Alright, buckle up, tourist, time to jump.”

Xohn looked around for straps, but there weren’t any. “Where do I buckle up?” He asked, nervous.

“Not actually buckle-up. Just hold on, tight-like.” The drive systems in the Heme were building up. It was a distinct sound and louder compared to the last ship he was on, he assumed because it was such a small craft. As the HUD indicated the drive near full charge, the familiar tunneling seemed to shimmer into existence around them. The screeching of the rip opening in space filled their ears, then boom. They leaped into the jump tunnel, and a few moments later, the view outside filled with the intense blinding light of an enormous blue-white star. The cockpit filters adjusted to spare their eyes permanent damage but no less diminished its power. The Heme immediately maneuvered away from the star, aiming out to what otherwise looked like nowhere. The HUD projection on the canopy highlighted Foden Dock, thousands of light-seconds away, a mere speck from this distance.

Xohn relaxed his hold on the hand-grips and settled into a more comfortable stance in the cabin. Their trajectory brought them close to the first planet in the system, and as it neared, Xohn’s mouth dropped open, stunned from the sight. It was a gleaming greyish-copper metallic sphere, wrapped by a narrow ring orbiting far from the planet’s surface. Wisps of thin vapor clouds tracked over the surface, and the copper areas of the surface shown with the diffuse reflected light of the host star. Jimmy didn’t seem at all impressed and continued to adjust their course to line up with their target at the edge of the system. Their course took them close enough that Xohn could make out a couple other ringed planets.

“Ya never been out this way before, uh?” The raspy voice broke the otherwise quiet hum and occasional beeps from the flight controls.

“No, I haven’t. I only ever once traveled, when I left my parents.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Ya, don’t say? That’s crazy. Why now then?”

“There is someone I am looking for.”

“A woman?”

Xohn nodded.

“Yeah, that’d do it. Women make ya do crazy.”

“Yes, indeed, they do.” Xohn sighed. A pang of sadness and loss struck him, reminding him why he was putting himself through it all.

“Hmm, that’s odd,” Jimmy remarked.

“What’s odd?” Xohn reacted with anxious nerves.

“Just looks like someone trailing us.” He pointed to a blip on the main scanner display moving to a position directly behind them. “Not sure why, though; I got nothing illegal in the holds.” He scratched at the stubble on his rough-hewn face as if trying to think. “Are ya a meat man, Vinny?” Jimmy asked at random.

“Sorry, a ‘meat man’?”

“Do ya like meat?”

“Uhh, yes, I suppose I do?” Xohn’s voice raised in a question, not knowing exactly why he was being asked about his dietary preferences.

“Doncha know all the crap that’s in animal meat?”

“Well, I…”

“It’s a corporate conspiracy, man! They shove all these garbage growth hormones they claim as ‘all-natural.’ It’s a scam, man! The hormones,” he lowered his rough voice to a whisper as if they were being listened to, ”They’re addictive. They hook people. They hook them while they poison ‘em for profit! Cancer only still exists cuz o’ these dirtbag corporate hacks grabbing profit. That’s what happens when ya let corporations get large enough to be governments. They decide what’s best for them, not for people. The whole system is corrupt and sick.”

“I had no idea,” nervous, Xohn looked around the cabin.

“No one does!” He smacked his leg. “That’s why I’m out here trying to save lives. I got secret special meat I’m selling at Foden Dock. People gotta get weened off meat addiction. I been vegetarian all my life. Look how healthy I look!“ Jimmy’s orange skin tone now made sense.

“How… enlightening,” his voice trailed.

“Well, that’s what they’re probably looking for. Tryin’ ta stop me. Too bad they’re too far behind. Alright, here we are.” Jimmy said, dropping the Heme from frameshift cruising to normal space.

The outpost shot into view.

Xohn looked it over as they approached. It was a tiny station of simple construction. There was a long rectangular hub-structure he suspected housed the main living quarters. There were cargo containers anchored across the surface wherever there seemed to be space. It also had a cylindrical operations center with a long-distance communications antenna array at one end. On the other end were the landing pads each with fuel tanks attached. Two smaller pads went off axis from the hub one direction, and off another axis a larger, medium-sized pad ran parallel to the main comms antenna. All in all, it wasn’t much to look at.

When they were close enough, Jimmy submitted their docking request. With immediate clearance from Dock Control, they set down on landing pad one.

“Alright,” Jimmy smacked his hands together. “Time to make some creds,” he crowed enthusiastically. His hands tapped on the controls to connect to the station services and begin the automated transfer of cargo and fuel. “Hah! Would ya look at that! Animal meat is going for 10 thousand over the galactic average! That’s way more profitable than I’d hoped! This’ll just be a bit.”

Xohn couldn’t ignore the contradiction of Jimmy’s complaints about corporate profits from meat, while he did the same. But, he decided it best to let it alone.

“Would it be alright if I step off? Some fresh air I am needing.”

“Sure, fine, let’s stretch our legs before we’re cooped up for a while,” Jimmy unstrapped himself.

Xohn grabbed his bags.

“What, ya don’t trust me?”

“I don’t mean to offend. We’ve only just met. Things very important to me are here that I must at all times keep track of.”

“Suit yerself, I don’t care if ya don’t trust me, so long as you’re paying me,” Jimmy rasped while standing up to make his way out of the cockpit. The pair walked down the ramp with Xohn awkwardly pulling his bags along with him.

There was a buzz of automechs ferrying the cargo away. The bay was cavernous for a small ship like the Heme. The busy sounds resonated in the large open space with a sort of hollowness. They stood there, watching the orchestration of the cargo transfer process.

“Ya know, I’m saving lives out here,” Jimmy crossed his arms on his leather vest. “They’re all gonna eat my completely organic, vegetable-based synthetic meat. Made it myself to taste jes’ like real meat. They’ll never know it’s even cheaper. They stay alive, I make money. I call that a win-win.”

Xohn glanced over at him but stayed silent.

“Yeah, I’m basically a hero. Only one brave enough, bold enough to do something against those corp-heads.”

The refueling finished and disconnected from the ship. Next to them, nearby doors to the bay opened, and five armed men rushed in.

Jimmy took one look and bolted back up the ramp, yelling, “Chyt! They scanned the meat! They know! I’m outta here!”

“Freeze!” The leading armed man shouted. The squad of guards drew their weapons and aimed it toward Xohn. “Do not move!”

Jimmy kept running up the ramp.

Xohn had turned to follow Jimmy up, but immediately stopped and put his arms above his head. He could hear sounds of the ship powering up. All the automated machinery stopped their work. Then the ramp to the ship raised while Xohn’s magshoe was still attached, dragging him along with it. A painful screech pierced his ears when his other magshoe scraped across the deck until the ramp pulled it upward. Everyone grabbed their ears to dampen the screeching. Finally, he managed free himself by rocking forward to release the boot.

“Hey, grab him!” The lead guard exclaimed. The small force of guards ran, wrapped their arms around his legs before the ramp pulled him up off the deck, and together pulled him back. He caught the ramp’s grip with both hands struggling to keep hold as it continued to close until it slipped from his fingers. The ramp locked into place on the Heme. Amber lights flashed alerting to the pending departure. The guards grabbed Xohn and dragged him out of the bay doors into the station. He glanced behind him to see the deck moving the ship forward to return it to the surface, and with it his hope of finding Azera.

“Wow, close one.” A husky sounding guard commented.

The lead guard took a breath to compose himself, then turned to face him. “You! You’re the engineer Vin Xohn from Maia, aren’t you?”

“Y… Yes.” He stammered trying to stifle his nerves.

“Come with us. Our orders are to take you to Ops when you arrived on station,” the serious, authoritarian voice commanded.

Xohn half raised his arms in compliance, but he said nothing. They walked along the corridor, and the lead guard spoke into his comm unit, “We’ve got him, sir. Bringing him to you now.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.” A disembodied voice responded.

They boarded a lift that conveyed them to the Operations Center of the station. When the doors to the lift opened, Vin Xohn saw a large circular room with concentric rings of standing desks and displays. About a dozen operations staff were behind a desk or milling around. A tall bald figure made his way toward them.

“Greetings, Master Xohn. I’m Executive Marco Stephenson. It’s our pleasure to host you on our little outpost. I trust you’ve had a pleasant trip so far?” A tall man in a grey suit offer his hand.

Xohn pursed his lips. “It has not been without its surprises.”

The executive dropped his hand. “Ahh, yes, well, I’m sorry to have been so… insistent at my invitation. I am compelled to, for the time being, hold you here.”

“A prisoner?”

“Oh goodness, no. You’re a guest.”

“Then I can leave?”

“Uh, no. But our every hospitality on this facility is at your disposal.”

“But I can’t leave.”

“Not until your escort arrives,” Stephenson said with extra emphasis. Xohn wasn’t certain, but it seemed like Stephenson was hinting at some special meaning. “I think it best we have a conversation in my private office.”

Stephenson gestured and began walking to a glass room at the edge of the Operations Center. When they neared, two glass doors split apart and slid over the glass walls allowing them to pass into the room. When the doors closed behind them, Stephenson spoke to his terminal, “Enable privacy mode.” The glass snapped into a frosted state that obscured everything outside the room. The murmuring Ops noise went silent. Xohn presumed it also prevented those outside from hearing or seeing into the office.

“Master Xohn, let me be frank.” Stephenson picked up the conversation, “There are powers at play that want you, desperately. I’m afraid they’ll stop at nothing to get at you.”

“Yes, their efforts are something I’ve been aware of. For some time now your people have been after me. Until now, it has been quite easy to elude you. This time I am wondering what tipped them off.”

“I want to assure you I’m not a party to their efforts.” Stephenson’s voice seemed earnest.

“Now you seem to be,” he held an unwavering stare at the Executive.

Stephenson raised his arms in protest, “I know it looks that way. You’ll have to pardon the theatrics, but someone here is watching and listening. I am merely playing a part, but I promise you, I’m on your side.” He pulled his right sleeve down and revealed a curious symbol tattooed on his wrist.

“Meaning what?” he responded, unimpressed.

“It means I’m part of the Resistance.”

“What *‘*Resistance?’”

“The Hyades Resistance. It’s a movement against the Duryss Administration.”

Xohn interrupted, “Politics I know nothing of! Or anything about this ‘Duryss Administration.’” He crossed his arms, unconvinced any of this was helpful for him.

“Look, the government of this region is oppressive, marginalizing the workforce to maximize the production and research of weapons. Duryss campaigned on it being part of Thargoid defense efforts to protect the sector.”

“Even if I am believing this, what does any of it have to do with me?”

“That,” he hesitated a moment, “That, I can’t say.” Stephenson leaned against one of the frosted glass walls, then turned to look out of the window decorated with distant stars. A nearby marker beacon to guide pilots for station docking approach blinked with metered regularity.

“You can’t? Or, you won’t say?” Xohn pressed.

“I can’t because I simply don’t know what they want with you.”

But, Xohn knew. It was his prototype.

The people that’d been after him must have been operatives of this Duryss Administration. He tried to recall where he’d heard the name ’Duryss’ before.

“Wait, I,” he pulled out his datapad and dug through past messages and records. He ran a general search query for ‘Duryss’ on his device. The first result surfaced the first letter he received in response to his research paper. He recalled the early days of his design work before building the prototype. He published a research paper to find investors and funding for his theoretical idea. For months after publishing the paper there was no response—not one. But, that was expected. His mentor, Professor Palin, had warned him as much. After this particular response, a sudden cascade of investment interest exploded, and he had all the money he could ever need. He called up the letter and navigated to the bottom to look for the signature:

With Respect,

Consular Alden Duryss,

CEO of Sietae Federal Corporation

“A’la, it is him!” Xohn pointed at his datapad, then put a fist to his mouth. “From the beginning it was him who’s been tracking me—Alden Duryss!”

Stephenson moved around the desk to Xohn, smacking his fist into his other hand, “Exactly! As I said, he’s been investing in research efforts for new forms of defense and weapons against Thargoids.”

“But a Thargoid weapon? My invention does nothing like that. It is a heat exchanger,” Xohn held a puzzled look.

“He must have some plan for it then. I don’t know how it ties in, but it must somehow. He wouldn’t go to these lengths for something incidental. He’s the one forcing me to hold you until his people arrive to pick you up. He wants you in a bad way, a very bad way.”

“Then what are you intending to do?”

“I intend to protect you for as long as possible. If needed, I’ll have my ship take you to a rendezvous point in the system to meet up with people I trust from my resistance cell.”

“Thank you for your help. I am grateful.” Xohn’s expression relaxed a bit. He felt convinced enough to drop his aggressive stance. Stephenson seemed like someone he could trust, but his trust had been misplaced before. Time would tell.

The commlink in Stephenson’s office trilled, and he answered, “Yes?”

“Sir, a fleet of ships just arrived in system. They appear heading our way.”

“Have you scanned for IDs?”

“It’s Colonel Reeves, sir, on the Decimator*.”*

Stephenson’s face went serious, “Thank you, Aric.” The commlink beeped off. “Change of plans. I’m going to stall to buy you time. You need to get down to the docking bays. Head to Bay 2.” He pointed in the general direction of the lifts. “If I can’t make it, I’ll have an aide pilot you to the rendezvous point the next system over.” Stephenson caught one of Xohn’s bags floating open and latched it closed. “We’ve got to move! Now!” He pressed at Xohn to push him out of the office.

Xohn shuffled out and looked for the lift across the Operations Center. Stephenson moved with a rapid gait to a comm station where a staff member was frantic. The relative calm in Ops was now replaced by a frenetic pace. It seemed everyone was in motion now.

“Open a commlink to the lead ship.” Stephenson ordered.

“Yes, sir.” A young woman responded. A moment later, she reported, “The link is open, sir.”

“This is Executive Stephenson, administrator of Foden Dock. Your convoy appears to be on course to arrive at our station. Please, keep in mind that we are a very small outpost. We can’t possibly accommodate all your ships.”

“Mr. Stephenson, I am Colonel Reeves. I’ve been dispatched to retrieve Mr. Vin Xohn from your custody. Prepare to transfer your guest to my ship when we arrive.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You are aware of my orders. You will transfer him to this ship, or I will remove you from that station.”

“No, you misunderstand, Colonel. Master Xohn, is no longer aboard our station,” Stephenson lied.

“Then, Mr. Stephenson, in five minutes, you won’t be either.” Her voice was sharp and threatening.

Inside the lift, Xohn turned to see the Executive briefly look up at him from the comms station. Stephenson gave him a committed nod as if to wish them both luck.

“Aric, Emergency Protocol,” Stephenson ordered.

The young man’s voice replied with nervous energy, “Yes, sir. Emergency Protocol.”