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2507: The Star Trader Chronicles

Episode 9: Crossroads

“What, you’re not cooking?”

The words brought Zahirah Sayar’s attention back into focus and she realized that she had been daydreaming and had lost track of time.  She glanced at the thin face of Ian Murphy for a moment before she let a small smile accompany a small shake of her head.

“It seems you are always cooking,” Ian remarked squinting against the setting sun.

“Not always,” she remarked causing Ian to snort. “Not always because there are times other matters must be attended to, like stocking the pantry.”

“And you…stocked the pantry,  I take it?” Ian guessed.

“I got to thinking how very much this is like running my father’s restaurant and why it feels comfortable.”

“But we don’t come in and order filet minion and truffles,” Ian shot her a sideways glance. “We eat what we are given and we are grateful.”

“Are you?” Zahirah wondered putting her hands on her hips, teasing him gently.

Ian studied her for a moment.  She was wearing an old pair of sand colored pants, a cut that was issued by the Israeli Peacekeepers.  She had her old brown boots on and an old brown t-shirt.  Over it all was an apron and it made for an odd contrast. Ian wanted to call her the Fighting Cook of the Aurora Lady.  No one messes with the Cook.

Zahirah tilted her dark head and studied him right back.  Ian saw a young woman, younger than himself, at any rate, with high young breasts, a strong young body with wide-ish hips.  She wasn’t fat, but she was feminine even under old uniform pants.  Zahirah wasn’t particularly pretty but she was sensual with a sensitive mouth and expressive eyes. What did she see when she looked at his skinny carcass? A hardened pilot with hair beginning to gray at a young age? Eyes lined from squinting at charts, hands hard from handling controls? No there was nothing soft about him, he was weathered and old, beaten by time and stress.  Zahirah had a lover, someone who cherished her even if he was far away.  Ian had none of that. He was who he was, and alone.  Alone except for this crew who had become his surrogate family.

Zahirah looked at him again. “My daydreaming infectious?” she wondered.

Ian made a face. “You tell me.  I was wondering how all this had changed.”

“I was thinking of my father, I have not thought about him for a long time.”

“He might be proud of you, you know.”

Zahirah shook her head, “Would yours be proud of you?”

Ian frowned, “No.”

“Why not?” she challenged.

“Because he was a drunken, lazy fool.  He would….” Ian stopped talking, and let silence emerge for a moment before he went on.  “Why wouldn’t yours be proud? You have Vil, you run this ship—“

“I do not run this ship!” Zahirah snorted.

“Anymore then your mother ran your father’s place?  If you didn’t have things running, Brock and I couldn’t do squat.”

“You would be eating reheated things or—“

“—Or junk. Yes. Don’t sell yourself short Zee. You are glue.” Ian waved a finger in a rather taunting manner.

“And why wouldn’t your father be proud of someone who pilots a ship?” she wondered putting her hand on her hip. “I mean what you do takes skill.”

“Because he doesn’t understand.”

“And that was my father’s problem as well,” she sighed heavily.  “He doesn’t understand not fulfilling a duty to our world. He wouldn’t understand why I chose the way I did. To him, paying back the debt owed to our world is important, and he stressed what we should be thankful for and keeping our obligation. He ran a restaurant, but he also made sure he followed the mandates.”

“Sorry, I forgot that your world prides itself on such matters.  He wouldn’t accept Vil even though he is a rich, successful captain?”

“He is not of my world,” Zahirah said softly. “No, he would not.”

Ian shrugged, “I guess I donna see it.”

“Just as I don’t see yours either.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Brock walked into the galley and studied his pilot for a moment.  It seemed to Brock that Ian had not moved from the chair he was sitting in, nor had he even turned a page of data on a hand held computer unit he was looking at. Brock had walked off the ship three hours earlier and returned to the tableau he had exited. “Where is everyone?” Brock finally wondered breaking the silence.

Ian looked up and shrugged, “Zee was around here a moment ago, Oro went off to get some ammunition and gun parts I believe, Nova—“

“I'm right here Cap’n,” Nova said as she walked in and set her tools down.

“Rose is—“

“Headed out to find some medical supplies with Green,” Nova added making Ian frown for a moment. Ian didn’t get up, but looked up from his papers for a moment. Brock glanced at him for a moment trying to read what his pilot’s expression said, but it wasn’t clear.

“I have a chart for you to look at,” Brock said and walked off towards the bridge.

Ian, now curious got up and followed Brock onto the bridge. “A chart? I thought you went out to the market area with Rose.  How did you pick up a chart?”

Brock shrugged. He handed Ian a piece of paper. “It was handed to us.”

“An actual paper chart, how…quaint. What is this a pirate treasure map?” Ian looked at it and frowned turning it to look at it.

“Does it make any sense to you?” Brock wondered ignoring Ian’s barb about pirates.

“Brockie, you have been reading charts as long as I have a—“

“And I don’t have them in my head like you do.”

“I don’t have them at the moment,” Ian reminded him with a flick of his fingers by his temple.

Brock sighed, “I know your habit.”

“It protects us and the Lady, Brock.” Ian reminded him in a soft voice.

“I know, discretion,” Brock said in a tone that said that the subject was now closed.

Ian turned the paper once again, “How soon do ya need an answer? This doesn’t have to do with our next run does it?”

“No, it is just an oddity that I was handed this afternoon.  It troubled Rose, or seemed to. There was this old….fortune teller in the market. She looked like a shriveled prune of an ancestor of the fruit seller Zahirah contracted with to get a load of what she called green goods.  She had raisins for eyes and smelled like those pink mints from Zardan. I think she made Rose look tall, her back was twisted like she had osteo….”

“I know what you mean, on Shannon we called such women witch or Granny.”

“Anyway she handed me this when she heard Rose tell the green grocer where to deliver the apples and stuff that Zahirah ordered. She was actually quite insistent upon it.”

“Poison apples and witches?” Ian winked. He looked at the paper again, “I'll check this out. It may be nothin’ more then the ramblings of an old lady.”

“For what ever reason hearing the name of the Lady made her perk right up.  Before that she was, like, hallow, just sitting with her eyes empty.”

“Odd, that kind of person gives me the creeps.” Ian thought “Dunno if it were the funny smells or what…” Brock snorted and shrugged. “By the by, what is our next load, an’ when do we lift?”

“I am finding out. I have feelers out.”

“How long do ya think we can sit in this hole not making any money?  Donna get me wrong,  I do like the sunshine, but—“

“But natural gravity is making your head ache.”

“Oh, it isn’t the gravity so much as—“

“—As what?  The women?” Brock teased.

“Brock, all kiddin’ aside, I would rather be other places.  I have a feeling in my bones and I donna like it. You being captain and all I will listen to your wise voice but…”

“But you want off this dirt ball.  I can't say I blame you.”  Brock sighed and looked out the forward view ports for a moment thinking not all worlds were a lush paradise, very few as a matter of fact.

“Part of me wishes for a bit o’ time at the Hole.  Part of me wants to be out. I don’t like sitting.  Sitting costs money.”

“It sounds like you have gotten in league with Rose.”

“No, I want to see this folly work,” Ian sighed. “an’ when I'm sitting, I'm not workin’ When I am sitting there’s more of a chance of being tracked down. It’s a self preservation kinda thing.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Why is it we were handed such miserable fortunes by that old hag? I mean not one of us was given a particularly bright future,” Rose wondered as she helped Zahirah with the dishes that evening.  While not out in space, moving between planets, they still had dinner at the common table.  Though tonight dinner just consisted of Zahirah, Rose, Brock and Ian. The others had gone out to an entertainment venue that was offering a live musical performance.  Brock declined because he was expecting to hear from a potential client, and Rose had been out all day.  Ian never left the ship it seemed and Zahirah had felt that since she had spent the morning laying in supplies it was her turn to watch the ship. Brock and Ian were playing chess on the bridge at the moment. Rose had filled Zahirah in on what the old woman had said when she gave Brock the map. It was, in her estimation, quite an earful of prophecy.

Zahirah looked at the plate she was handing to Rose for a moment.  “Miserable?” she wondered.

“Childless and alone is our fate?  It was like she knew us as old people.” Rose shook her head.

“Maybe that was a reflection on her own state of affairs.”

Rose looked at her for a moment.  “Do you ever think that you will loose Vil?”

Zahirah sighed and handed Rose a mug. “I have.  I have because of what happened on Del Vista.  I have because of what happened on that old moon.  I have because nothing is guaranteed in life.  There is a saying. If you want to hear HIM laugh, tell him your plans.”

Rose sighed softly, “It just seems so cold, I suppose.”

Zahirah smiled slightly, “What do you want in life? It probably will never come true. We are risk takers, with what we do.  We chose a path few dare tread.  It’s no worse than others. For the soldier, for any one, really.  We all can meet with accidents. We can slip getting out of the shower and hit our heads. We can trip on steps.  More people die in bed, therefore bed is a dangerous place.”

“Oh that is very reassuring,” Rose snorted sarcastically.

“But it’s true,” Zahirah smiled.

“It might be true,” Rose shrugged, “But reassuring? No.”

“Oddly I found the old woman’s observation of our being together reassuring,” Zahirah remarked as she let the water drain from a glass she was rinsing.

“Mmm, I have to agree.” Rose said after a moments thought. “And that map, what is it with that map?”

Zahirah shrugged, “I'm not a map person. Charts are a mystery to me.”

“I agree,” Rose mused gently. “Well, that is for Ian to figure out.  He seems to love puzzles.”

Zahirah nodded and hung up her apron. The dishes were done for the evening.  She finished squaring away the galley and walked aft, to the open cargo ramp where she had been watching the sun set earlier, but now it was watching the activity in the port with ships coming and going.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ian was looking at the map, now rather crumpled and slightly yellowed.  Zahirah walked behind him before setting his plate down. They were alone in the galley minding the ship in port. It had been months since Ian had seemed to have looked at the map or even  mentioned it, or the old woman who had given it to Brock. Maybe it had only been weeks but felt like months.  Time had a way of passing like that. The  long passages between planets made time crawl or sometimes it occasionally made time feel compressed. The more she considered it the more certain she became that it was three weeks to be exact. It was an odd sensation that left Zee wondering sometimes if she was coming or going.  Planets also tended to blur so that unless something extraordinary happened they all tended to be the same. It became oh that place doesn’t have good fruit, or that was where Vil was arrested, or that is the bar Cowboy cleaned up in.

Zahirah sat down and looked at the pilot as he ate with one hand and held the map in the other.  It was as if he couldn’t take his eyes off of it to even see what he was eating.  He finally set it down and looked at her.

“Something familiar?” Zahirah wondered.

“No, it still doesn’t make much sense. I wonder if it ever will.”

“Maybe we will be old when we understand, like the old woman seemed to indicate.”

Ian shook his head, “I'll find it, I promise. How long has it been since you’ve seen Vil?”

“A while, why?”

“Because he was linked into all of this. I mean from what you, Rose and Brock have all said--”

“She may have been referring to you,” Zahirah reminded him.

“Hardly,” Ian sighed.

“Why?” Zahirah wondered.

“Because she said it was the father of the baby you lost,  and you and I are hardly likely to—“

Zahirah sighed, “Ian, Vil isn’t the one with circuits that go wrong. She said something about circuits and to me that means one thing. Aleksi doesn’t have a chip, and Vil and I haven’t….”

“You know, the more I think about it, the crazier she sounds.” Ian quietly got up and put the dishes in the sink. When he turned back and looked at Zahirah, her shoulders were slumped slightly as she picked up the unused utensils.  Ian cleared his throat. “Or we are wrong about Vil. The whole thing could be wrong.  She was an old lady afterall.”

Zahirah turned quickly and put the spoon away without replying.

Ian picked up the paper again.  He slowly matched the corners and re creased the paper before he put it in the pocket of his shirt. He watched Zahirah busy herself with the dishes for a moment before he walked onto the bridge and sat down.  Idly he leaned on his elbow and played with his beard and the more he tried to dismiss the matter the more it seemed that something was eating at Zahirah, and it was something he could not understand. “Women! Can't live with them, can't live without them,” he concluded to no one in particular.

He had dozed off when he heard Cowboy’s drawl.  It crept in on his conscience, irritating the bones in his head. He opened his eyes with a sigh when the words suddenly made sense and didn’t sound like muttered garbled gibberish.

“That’s all I'm saying, that there’s this rumor going around!” Cowboy exclaimed.

“I don’t believe it,” Zahirah’s voice rattled. “Did the Carlson woman start it?”

“I don’t know,” Cowboy nearly whined in an exasperated manner.

Ian rubbed his face for a moment. Casey Carlson his old captain was something of a gossip, something of a muckraker, when she could be.  She was a short red head and everything that embodied. Ian smacked his lips, his mouth felt a bit gummy.  He stood up and stretched, yawning broadly. Without much thought he went through the bridge door into the galley and looked at Cowboy and Zahirah.  The cook had her hands on her hips and a hot look in her eyes. “Casey Carlson makes up shit,” Ian added in an off hand manner.

Cowboy glanced at him, “Makes up shit?”

“Believe me Cowboy after serving under her, she loves nothin’ more than to stir things up. On the other hand she is dead nuts loyal, and stood by old man Brockman, for what it was worth.” Ian yawned again, “What is it this time? I mean what is the rumor?”

Ian noticed that Zahirah didn’t look comfortable, just as she didn’t look comfortable earlier when she put the utensils away.

“Jannula is in a hospital somewhere with his brains blown out.” Cowboy shrugged.

“Cowboy be more specific, you said hospitalized with a stroke!” Zahirah snorted.

Ian winced, “What the hell?”

“That was my reaction,” Cowboy shrugged glancing at Ian.

Ian shook his head, “Nonsense, it’s utter malarkey! How could Vil have a stroke? He's not some tottering old fool that makes Mathis look like a spring chicken!”

“Hey, that’s what I heard.  You know how things are said at card tables, how the latest stuff gets passed around. Hell, it’s the way we work since the real news service is monopolized by the Firsts and what is news to us isn’t even a blip on their sensors! Even if it was the truth, half the time they make crap up and you know it!”

“Yes I know it, but none the less—“

“None the less, what?”

“None the less, rumors are just dat and Casey takes delight in them.” Ian glanced at Zahirah who had picked up an onion and was chopping it very deliberately with slow methodical slices.

Cowboy sighed, “Zee, if it is true—“

She looked up at him for a moment before bending back over her work.

“If its true, I'm sorry and I'll see if I cannot find out what is behind this.”

Ian glanced at Cowboy as the cargo wrestler went aft towards his quarters. Ian glanced back at Zahirah watching her cut the onion. “We didn’t need onions did we?”

“Breakfast,” she said softly.

“What has been botherin’ you?” Ian wondered in a very soft voice.

“I don’t want to be alone, Ian!” she sighed and scraped the cutting board putting the small white chunks into a container to be sealed up.

~~~~~~~~~~

Not for the fist time Ian wondered what was getting under everyone’s skin. It was like déjà vu all over again. Oro was cranky and when she was cranky she was cranky. Zahirah on edge, Rose muttering about the books, Nova muttering about old worn parts…it was as if the women of the Lady were all under some sort of spell, which didn’t bode well for the men.

Ian could, however, understand Zahirah’s slight outburst. Being alone was an unnerving prospect, one that he had mulled over more than once. It had only started when he left the U.E.F. On the one hand he couldn’t remain where he was, doing what he had been doing.  He watched people die, it was in his head and he couldn’t ignore it or look away. No, not with the comm.  feed from the transport ship going straight through his chip. No way. He was part of it, very  much part of it. He was the ship, the ship was him. What the ship heard, he heard. From what little Oro had told him about how she hunted and why, he knew why she was the way she was. He knew what she had seen even though all he did was drop troops into the combat zones. She was a Marine, one of the elite, one of the few.  They didn’t make many like her, they were born.  Still, she had seen the outrage the way the U.E.F. treated civilians, treated Indies like themselves. They didn’t care….and she did. People were people and people should never be alone. Which, coming back full circle, was Zahirah’s fear.

If he had not walked away from the U.E.F. he would have gone mad. It was a choice—break the law or go insane.  Nice choice. Nice headache inducing choice. The U.E.F. used their pilots until they lost them. They never retired or were mustered out. The job, the life, killed them. Slowly, steadily, methodically killed them. He ran away. Actually he walked away. He walked right out when they were in port, he just didn’t come back.  That was 12 years ago, twelve long and lonely years. He had chosen to be alone.

Ian had no one. He couldn’t return to his family, nor did he know anyone special.  He didn’t make close friends because close friends could screw you over. If someone found out just what he was, it would all be over. It had been hard to admit this to the crew of the Lady, but sometimes things happened. Sometimes the truth was better out in the open. Because of his reluctance to admit what he was, he never got close to anyone, even Casey never knew the truth. Lyle Brockman was the one person who knew for years, until Ian told Brock. Brock was as close a friend as Ian ever had, and it took a long time before Ian trusted him enough to say boo about it.

Zahirah had asked why Ian’s father wouldn’t be proud of a son like him, well the truth was Ian’s father never understood him, never once. They fought like cats and dogs and when he was sixteen he left, just walked out. He knew what he wanted, and a drunken fool would never stand in his way of getting his dream. He was a mistake, never wanted and his father never let him forget it. He would always be alone and he hated that idea. He also wasn’t going to let the man with crumpled dreams and no hope left in his soul dictate the lonely  existence he would have had on Shannon. He would have remained a poor pawn, driven to drinking and drowning sorrows. His father was not an intelligent man, and having the upstart son who could think rings around him both scared him and angered him. Ian had everything he didn’t have.  Jealousy drove his father into an abyss and his mother was no better. His father couldn’t even tell a drunken tale of having done anything in his life other than hold a barstool down. It sickened Ian, and drove him away. He had chosen to be alone.

Ian took a deep breath and dismissed the feelings, brushed them aside just as he had to brush aside fear. He couldn’t let the crew know his inner black demons, the demons he wrestled with most of the time.

If there was a way to remove the chip, if there was a way to become someone else, he would gladly pay it. If there was a way to bring the U.E.F. to their knees and admit what they did was wrong, he would do it. Richards? Ian snorted in amusement. If only Richards knew what lurked in his black Irish heart, Richards would laugh.  Ian just wasn’t that removed from Richards in his thinking and that little fact would probably scare the hell out of the rest of the crew.

No what Ian dreamed of was being normal. To not look over his shoulder, to be able to talk to love, to be human…all old stomping grounds for his heart.

Once, he could have loved a wildcat like Oro.  He knew women like her but as a pilot he didn’t move in the same orbit as the Marines.  Pilots kept to themselves, lived cloistered lives. That was just the way it was.

“They used us both, Oro, more than you realize,” he whispered. “They chewed us up and spat us out.  They didn’t care, there were more of us where we came from, hungry, eager and brainwashed. We were to be the best, full of promise, but then all we were was cogs in the endless wheel, teeth broken and replaced with no more thought or care than Nova replaces a hose.”

If there was some way to remove the chip, become normal…not have ship’s AI talking in his  head, if only he could be like Brock, if only….if only….

Ian got up and walked to Cowboy’s quarters where the cargo specialist was flopped on his bunk playing his guitar. Ian could hear the rhythmic clack of the weight machine as Oro tortured it. It made for a slightly odd slightly out of sync rhythm with Cowboy’s playing.

“What is it, Irish?” Cowboy wondered.

“This rumor about Jannula—“

“You’re right, Irish, it’s probably just spew.”

“Even spew has an element of truth to it…occasionally.”

“The rumor was, he had a stroke,” Cowboy said giving Ian a shrug.

“And the last time you brought a rumor aboard, it turned out to be true.”

“Yeah and Brock sure didn’t like having him aboard, now did he?”

“You don’t just leave people, you don’t just treat them like dirt,” Ian sighed causing Cowboy to shoot him a glance. Ian shrugged, “Pilots were treated no better than Landsman of any class. Dirt is dirt. To the U.E.F. everyone is dirt.”

“But what about Jannula?” Cowboy put down his guitar. “If he had a stroke, why? As you said, he sure isn’t a geezer.”

“We don’t know if he has or not. Maybe that’s what's troubling me, not knowing. Maybe that is what is bothering Zee as well.” Ian shrugged and gave a flip of his hand. “Look, probably it would be best if we just didn’t discuss this one….just let it go.”

“I find it hard to believe myself,” Cowboy agreed rather good naturedly.

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is not good,” Arn Kasseli announced when he walked into the AnnaLissa’s ward room.

Ilari Jannula glanced up from his cup of coffee and frowned at his pilot.  He was tired, wrung out from dealing with his mother on top of the nagging discomfort with what was happening with his father, Aleksi. “What isn’t good?” he wondered.

“Chatter on the U.E.F. channels.  Your brother, Vil, was able to pass a few things along.”

Ilari sat up straighter. They had receivers that had been lifted from the salvage of a wrecked U.E.F. cruiser  on the Norse Wind and they used it to keep tabs on the forces.  It was illegal as all get out, but it gave them an edge. Especially when they were smuggling arms or medical supplies into hot zones, then they were indispensable. His brother had the Wind out on a run, far from where they were berthed on Kobuk Prime.  Arn being a clever  ex-military pilot had figured out the unit and kept it running.  Arn was an indispensable right hand. “What is the chatter?” Ilari wondered half fearful of the answer. The look in Arn’s eye warned him that it wasn’t good news.

“They are stepping up against the Indies.  More inspections, more stops. What happened to Vil was the tip of the iceberg.”

“Why?” Ilari sipped his coffee cursing inwardly.

“Crackdown. Orders from the top.  Things have gotten too loose, that means they are stepping up on outstanding warrants.”

“Why now?”

“Elections?” Arn speculated.

“No that is too simple,” Ilari frowned. “Way too simple.”

“They also want every chip pilot brought in, the registered ones as well as the known black markets.”

Ilari frowned again, “All? There are not that many who have units implanted, legal and illegal. It’s too hard on the brain and nervous system.  You know the black market units are as crazy as shit-house rats, and the legal—“

“That’s the order.  Bring them all in.” Arn sighed.

“Why?” Ilari groaned. “I know I sound stupid here Arn, but—“

“I was able to obtain a copy of the order, this is to be done quietly.  The pilots are to be…cleansed.”

“That lying BITCH!” Ilari slapped his hand on the table. “Help? HELP?! What a load of….! My father is to be CLEANSED?!!!”

Arn looked at Ilari’s spilled coffee, “It will only push some further underground.” Ilari sighed as Arn handed him a towel to wipe up the spill.

“This is fast becoming a totalitarian dictatorship,” Ilari said half mumbling.

“It’s been a dictatorship for a long time,” Arn pointed out.

“A benevolent one,” Ilari sighed. “We've got to get out.  We head for the outer worlds. If they are clamping down on Indies, what is next?  We will have more New Providence-like situations crop up, and we teeter on the brink of war.”

“We have been teetering for a while.” Arn scowled.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I wish that chart did make sense,” Ian said lightly as Brock settled beside him. Ian glanced at his boss and the owner of the ship he worked.

Brock studied the blackness of space in front of the ship, it was the only place he felt truly free.  He sighed softly and shrugged his broad shoulders, “Ours is not to question why.”

“Umm I can do without the do or die part,” Ian glanced over again.

Brock smiled slightly. “The chart could be nothing,” he remarked.

“Or it’s the key to something,” Ian pointed out.

“How is she running?” he wondered.

“So far so good.  Nova seems to have waved her magic wand and sprinkled her pixie dust.”

Brock nodded but didn’t say anything more.  Ian was far more relaxed now that they were clear of the planetary system.  Zahirah was right, the systems did blend into one.  It had been just another planet, just another trip.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ilari Jannula stood by the view ports in the wall of the perma-dome that looked out across the frozen wastes of Kobuk Prime. It had been a long time since he  had stood watching the snow fall as he was doing now. Winter had a way of putting him on edge, winter was a season he avoided. He avoided being in the house in Helsinki with the same method.  Run his ship and keep her out. Right now, his ship was out without him, his brother making a long run to Craitor without him. He was here, with his right hand man, Arn, running his father’s ship and not enjoying it at all.

Sometimes though, there were matters to attend to, sometimes he was forced to face the lawyers and face his mother.  Anna Lissa was a force to be reckoned with. Her tall thin frame, her icy expression all made her seem tougher than any alloy created.  She was a parliament member, and a high ranking one at that. It was a position she worked hard for and worked hard at. She was rarely in this house, the house his father had earned for her. He was a successful and respected captain of a passenger liner and he enjoyed his work. He catered to the First families that needed discrete and punctual transportation. They paid very well for his quiet ways. His father had gotten his start with a freighter, the Norse Wind and when his sons came of age he sold the old girl to them.  Anna Lissa had been the seed money, her family one of the oldest of the Nordic Firsts. His father had been also well connected to the Firsts, but he himself was a cousin.  They had a marriage in name only and the only off spring had all been in vetro implants, with surrogate mothers.  Anna Lissa did not have the time or patience to be a mother. Parliament, politics and deals came fist. Her trim figure was never weighed down by the burden of twins and Vil and Ilari never really considered her their mother.  She was a figure that came and went through their childhood, dictating their schools and not much more. She was aloof and glacial.

The last time Ilari saw snow, a young woman from the desert world of Yishuv had been standing by the tall windows in the drawing room in Helsinki,  mesmerized by the motion of the falling flakes.  For her snow was unheard of and magical.  It wasn’t long after that, he and his brother whisked her away to the warm almost tropical world of Nashville to keep her safe in an uncertain situation.

Ilari missed the Yishuvian housekeeper, but he knew her fate. As of right now she was a cook on an Indie freighter out there somewhere, making sure the ship ran smoothly and looking after her crew like family. That was just the kind of person she was.

That was where he should be, out on the Norse Wind looking after his crew not twiddling his thumbs on Kobuk Prime, holding vigil over his father who was in the medical facilities.  He didn’t want to think about Arn and Vil getting ready for their departure from Craitor which was scheduled for later that day. He didn’t want to be here, but he was stuck here to deal with matters.

He was stuck with the sickening truth that his father was slated to have his AI destroyed today. It had already failed ironically. His father had an accident, the transport he was in crashed. He had been heading to a formal function for Parliament. Anna had been in her office and was going to meet him at the reception, but instead was greeted with the news of the crash. They were going to destroy the AI in the hopes that doing so would allow the bleeding to stop. Ironically the government was getting exactly what they wanted—Aleksi’s chip destroyed. It was a slim hope, but it was hope none the less. Ilari wasn’t convinced that destroying the AI was going to do anything. His father was already dead to him it seemed. He was just a shell now.

“And how is your father today?” Anna Lissa asked as she walked softly across the thick plush carpets in her hand-made high heels.

Ilari glanced at her perfectly sculpted ice blonde hair and her pale blue eyes. “What do you care? Besides using him for political gain.”

“You and your brother,” she said in a disgusted tone.

“What, because we see him as human and you see him as a means to an end? Enlighten me.” Ilari was not normally a bitter person, but this issue had struck him as outrageous and he was always willing to stand for his twin brother or his father as the case may be.

“The government was wrong, and we are going to expose it.”

“How?” Ilari turned away from the scene out the view port.  “How? By getting them to admit that they put things in peoples heads at a price and that they fail? That they kill people in the pretense of service? That they deny this for anyone but their own?”

“Do you know how many pilots are wanted by the U.E.F.?” she wondered.

“There is only a speculated number. Legal ones, one that were done after paying the exorbitant fees are probably 200 or less. Illegal ones?” Ilari shrugged.  “No one knows because the U.E.F. keeps their wanted list tight.”

“I have uncovered the death of at least 500 over the last fifteen years.”

Ilari nodded, “And--?”

“Their force of chipped pilots numbers 250 at the moment, these are the ones they admit to having.  Every year they create fifty, every year some die, are rendered incapable of running their ships and occasionally they loose a few from desertion.”

“They don’t have a regard for human life,” Ilari said slowly.

“And I want to change that.”

“How? The other First families demand that the forces have the chipped pilots so they can run complex battle ops a—“

“How do you know?”

“Because I'm out there. We know where the trouble spots are. We have to. It’s no secret. The legal ones can do so much, but the military ones can do far more. It’s the way it is.” Ilari didn’t add what he knew of the chips from Arn, who had served with them at one time. And Arn, who had worked for his father for years always remarked about the difference between a civilian chip and a military one. No, Anna didn’t need to know that little bit of information.

Anna Lissa sighed, “The MVK mark 4 v1 was implanted in about 100 pilots.  Most of those pilots are gone, no longer in the force.”

“How—never mind I don’t need to know how you got that data.”

“Pilots have a service life of under 10 years, I want to change that.”

“Can you? Are you serving on the armed forces committee now?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I was voted in to fill the vacant seat a year ago.”

Ilari turned back to the window, “What about those others that were done? The ones that are not dead.”

“I personally want to see them brought in and helped.”

“But they are already being hunted and killed for desertion, if they are caught. That’s no secret.”

“Yes, deserters are shot when caught. I wasn’t happy with how that order went out.”

“Forgive me, your speech is noble, but I have my doubts that you can change that. I think there is some ancient writing about that sort of folly . Tilting windmills or something odd like that?”

“You view this as folly,” she said in an icy tone.  “I thought you might be one to embrace it and back me up, since you are out there.”

“Look, the colonies have to stop being treated as incubators for cheap labor.  They need to be supported so these people have a chance, a real chance, and are not treated as dogs.  The Firsts have to be made to realize that they are human, with rights and dreams.  They are not there solely for profit. The Indies have to be given the opportunity for success, not crushed.  That is where the reform needs to be.  The chipped pilot issue is nothing more than a feel  good issue and doesn’t address the real problems that exist and the Firsts don’t want to see.” Ilari turned on his heel and marched out of the room.  He didn’t care any more. He was not going to play his so-called mother’s political game.

“Ilari, wait,” she called after him as she walked into the hallway.  “Ilari there are two pilots from that group that are still out there, military pilots.”

Ilari stopped walking but didn’t look at her. “Who? Who are they?”

“A Rachel Van Horn and an Ian Bryan Murphy.  Neither one has ever been caught, and in Murphy’s case he’s presumed dead. They haven’t been spotted in years. They both deserted.”

“I don’t know them,” Ilari lied and walked out.

“Ilari don’t do this, Keith Overlinger told me Murphy worked for Brockman Freight but was fired. Overlinger suspects he is with Brockman’s son. If this is true—“

“Overlinger is an ass,” Ilari spat. “He only says what he thinks he can use to get leverage. He uses people.”

“I know, and I've used my influence to keep him at bay. Through the courts-- ”

“Why?”

“Because I want to bring Murphy in, and protect him from the jackals. I want to know why he survived when the others did not. Maybe this can pave a way to improve the new units.”

Ilari studied her for a moment, “You always have your reasons. You always have your price. What is it this time? What game are you playing?”

“I want Hewes to topple Overlinger.  He, Murphy if he is alive and the report of him being with Brockman are true, then he also knows Overlinger’s weak spots, I can get those and pass them to Hewes. I help him, he helps me. I insulate him from the orders to nix the chips, he helps me to stop Overlinger.”

Ilari tried to release his hand from the fist that had formed. He took a deep slow breath.  He would never let Ian be a pawn.  That was certain. He owed Ian a debt, one for looking out for his brother when the snot was beaten out of him. He was also certain Anna Lissa was lying, that she wanted the chips for another reason and it wasn’t Overlinger. Why would Overlinger say anything about Murphy to her any way?  Ilari had one horrible and stomach churning thought.  Anna Lissa was having an affair with Overlinger behind his father’s back and that thought made him sick.

“You know what Anna? You are a hypocrite. You allow your husband to die and yet you would allow amnesty to someone who broke the law yet can aid you in….snuffing out a…”

“Overlinger was traced to your father’s accident, the one that caused this in the first place.  His chip wasn’t the root cause.  Overlinger was. Overlinger once served on the armed forces committee and that’s how I know him. They are just nixing the chip to stop….the damage. Ilari, Overlinger is trying to blackmail me. It has to do with what I knew about the awarding of defense contracts. Overlinger was trying to stop me by hitting your father, he tried to get me where it hurts. I would….watch myself if I were you.  I don’t want to see you or your brother hurt. I can probably tie Overlinger to Del Vista as well. He has influence, far reaching influence.”

Ilari stood for a quiet moment before he realized that for the first time he had seen her armor pierced, that Anna had emotions.  He realized Anna…cared.   “We need to talk,” Ilari said slowly.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Galveston,” Ian snorted.

Brock glanced up with one eye half open, “What about it?”

“Dunno, just thought that is what this place reminds me of.”

“It reminds me of Skinny Billy’s,” Brock sighed. “The beer is about the same temperature.”

“But none of Billy’s charms,” Ian remarked watching Cowboy shuffle his cards.

“Uh-oh,” Cowboy said.

“Uh-oh what?” Brock said sitting up.

“Company,” Cowboy said softly gesturing towards the door where two men just walked in.

Brock looked up and glanced at Ian. “That’s Chet Flores and Tony Dante.”

“I know,” Ian grumbled.

“What are they doing here?” Brock wondered. “The last time I saw them…well Wanda—“

“They are walking towards the bar.” Cowboy said watching the movement of the men in the crowded portside bar.

“Brock I'm heading back to the ship,” Ian said softly. “If Flores and Dante are here, I don’t want to be.”

“I feel like a kid stuck with the bullies in a school cafeteria,” Brock said quietly to Cowboy.  Brock knew Ian’s panache for disappearing. He could slip into a crowd and be gone before anyone noticed.  He hoped no one noticed now.

“What does ol’ Irish have against those two anyway?” Cowboy wondered.

Brock shook his  head slowly, “It has to do with Overlinger, an old ship, and several women.”

“This sounds like a tale,” Cowboy chuckled.

~~~~~~~~~~

Zahirah grated the block of cheese in numb silence. She found she couldn’t even shed a tear slicing a hot onion.  She glanced up when Rose walked over and leaned on the counter.

“I don’t believe it,” Rose whispered.  Her eyes were red behind her gold framed glasses. “The prophecy isn’t true then, we will not be together.”

“Where is that scrap of paper?” Zahirah wondered.

“In Ian’s things I believe. I don’t think he had it. I know he had it in that shirt he tore yesterday helping Nova, now whether he put it somewhere else or not, I don’t know.”

Zahirah put down the grater and wiping her hand on a towel went aft towards the door of Ian’s quarters.

Oro suddenly appeared from around a corner “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“That scrap of a map,” Zahirah thrust her chin out.

“Are you mad? Ian was just arrested.  We were boarded and he was taken from us!” Oro was pissed, so mad her lips were white. She had been powerless to do anything but stand by and watch her crewmate taken away and now she was seething.

Zahirah looked at her calmly, “I know. We owe him a debt. Do you not agree? It is not his fate to die like a coward.”

“We can't pull what---“

“This has nothing to do with Richards and his no account group.” Zahirah yanked the door open as Rose walked over. “We are not going after him like we did for Cowboy.  We cannot pull something like that off.”

“What does this have to do with then?” Rose wondered.

“That map.” Zahirah walked in and spotted the shirt Ian had been wearing the day before hanging on the back of the door, sure enough the paper was still in the pocket. She thought about how Ian was removed from the ship, but how none of his personal belongings had been touched. It was clear they were interested in him, and him alone. She looked around his quarters for a moment and was struck by how impersonal they were. “He's lonely,” she observed.

Rose made a face and turned away heading for the galley.

“Lonely?” Oro wondered.

Zahirah glanced around for a moment and stepped out holding the map.  “Lonely. Impersonal. Afraid.”

Oro puzzled about it and followed her into the galley, “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you have squad members that would not put up pictures or discuss home?”

“Not that I can think of,” Oro frowned.

“As a sergeant I had to watch out for little things like that. I found the ones that were that way, were lonely and never knew what love meant. It was sad.”

Oro made a face and shook her head, slightly bewildered by the observation. She followed Zahirah back into the galley. Zahirah spread the map out and looked it over “Ian always held it like this.”

Win Green looked over her shoulder for a moment, “What gives?”

“Just Ian’s puzzle,” Zahirah answered as Win went over to the table and sat down, giving her dark curly hair a smooth down with her hand. She too looked shaken by recent events.

Oro walked over and leaned on the counter, “What if he was looking at it wrong.”

“That was what I was thinking, but it doesn’t make sense to me.” Zahirah shrugged as Rose also came over and took a look.

Oro picked it up, “I occasionally saw charts, but it was mostly for land navigation. It was the pilots job to bring us in and drop us.”

“Why do you think Ian deserted?” Zahirah wondered.

Oro sighed, “Because of what he saw on missions. If he dropped on New Providence he saw some pretty intense stuff.”

“And he can't close his eyes and look away, it feeds right into his head.”

Oro nodded, “I never thought about what the pilots saw until I met him. But still, this map.”

Brock suddenly stalked off the bridge with his coffee cup in his hand and a sour look on his face.  Rose watched him carefully as he poured his cup. “What are you girls doing?”  he wondered looking at Zahirah, Rose and Oro.

“Brock, I think this map is a clue.” Zahirah explained.

“It’s a scrap of paper drawn on by a senile old woman.”

“What if it is a clue?” Rose wondered.

“Where ever they took him we cannot follow, not this time,” Brock sounded defeated and it was an ugly tone.

“Brock we are being hailed,” Cowboy said suddenly from the door of the bridge.

Brock sighed and looked at Oro with a weary glance.  “I'm sorry that just didn’t sound right.  Who Cowboy? Did they identify?”

“Yup, sure. Ilari Jannula.”

“Ilari?” Zahirah whispered.

“Damnation!” Brock got up and tossed the paper back at Oro. He did not look happy at all.  Brock settled back in the pilots seat and opened the channel with the usual identification.

“Brock before you say anything, I know where they took the crazy Mick and why.”

“Crazy Mick?” Brock whispered.

“The walls have ears Brock, that’s all I can say.  I'm there now, they are heading for the Devil’s Icebox, not that I love winter at all.”

“But Ilari,” Brock hesitated.

“They brought my father here as well. It’s a system-wide order. I'm sorry Brock for this cloak and dagger business, but you need to get your ass to the Icebox. It’s not a good day for the Indies at all.”

Bock closed the channel when Ilari signed off and settled back in the seat.  Crazy Mick? Ian was called that on occasion so he knew who Ilari was talking about. Icebox was Kobuk Prime…but Aleksi being taken there as well? Why pass that information? Kobuk Prime was the main medical facility for the U.E.F., the place where the wounded were brought. It made no sense.

Brock thought about the way they were stopped by three cruisers, their goose so cooked it wasn’t even funny.  The U.E.F. said nothing to them about other warrants, other charges, they just took Ian off the ship. Ian looked like a frightened animal, his eyes large, he said nothing.  Brock pinched his nose and tried to fight back his emotions, the pain that tore at his heart. Ian didn’t deserve to be arrested, the crazy Mick just wanted to live.

He didn’t notice Zahirah until she laid a hand on his arm from the copilots seat, “Brock we will be OK.”

“Ian won’t.” Brock said trying not to choke on the lump in his throat.

“I heard Ilari, he sounds troubled. He only talks in code and gibberish when he is worried about being overheard.”

“We all have to be careful about what we say,” Brock admitted. “This is Ian’s nightmare Zee. There's no two ways about it.”

“We’ve talked about it,” Zahirah said.

“Ilari wants us to get to the Icebox.” Brock muttered.

“Can we afford the diversion?” Zahirah wondered.

“You sound like Rose,” Brock mused for a moment and then soberly remembered that he accused Ian of the same thing not terribly long ago. The reminder stung for a moment.

“I do spend a lot of time with her,” Zahirah laughed softly. “She reminds me of my mother and how she ran the restaurant. They are very much of the same mind set and temperament. And one thing my mother always said. Invest in the right tools for the job, don’t pay for something twice by trying to be cheap.”

“You’re saying we can afford this diversion,” Brock surmised studying her.

“I'm saying, we cannot afford not to. Ilari wouldn’t tell us to go to a place like that unless there was a reason, or hope.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ilari paced the security checkpoint  at the main concourse of the docking area on Kobuk Prime.  This was where all crews and patients had to pass before entering the vast underground medical complex.  He paced and watched for the crew of the Aurora Lady to appear. The sound of Anna Lissa’s voice rattled in his thoughts. She had been granted access to see Ian but she didn’t speak to him. They were still running tests and he was being guarded by personnel under her direct orders. Ilari wasn’t sure if he should trust her, or not, but it seemed she was keeping her word that she had been able with her connections to intercept the ship that had tracked the Lady down and through her influence let the Lady go on her way. It didn’t make much sense, but then if she was trying to cause Overlinger to fail, then having Brockman free to take what should have been his in the first place….there were other rumors that an old girlfriend of Overlinger’s was also attempting her own coup, but how that all worked in only made it clear that Overlinger was pissing a few too many off, that he was stepping on all the wrong toes and he would fail at someone’s hands.

Ilari felt uncomfortable being here at his mother’s request, but he also couldn’t leave Aleksi. He was here more out of obligation to his father than to the whims of his so-called mother.  His brother had urged him to go along with her wishes. He captained his fathers passenger ship here, ferrying his mother and several of her staff. It wasn’t a chore he enjoyed and spent most of his time on the bridge to avoid her.  He still did not consider her his mother even after all the years that had passed. He wished he had left with his brother, days ago. It didn’t matter any longer since his father passed.

Ilari heard the sound of footsteps and pushed his way past the guards. “Brock, I'm glad to see you.”

“Well you left me with a puzzle,” Brock sighed.

“You have your BID? I have clearances for Cowboy, Nova, Oro and Dr Green so they don’t have to sit on the ship the whole--”

“What is going on?” Brock said pushing against Ilari’s chest stopping him. “I don’t walk casually into a snake pit if I can avoid it. You know that.”

Ilari looked around for a moment, “Let’s go back to the ship where we can talk. This isn’t a good place.”

Ilari followed Brock and glanced at Zahirah as they strode quickly along to where the Lady was berthed not far from  the AnnaLissa.  She looked old and humble hunkered in the cold bay. Zahirah’s face revealed nothing to him.  “I actually envy you Brock,” Ilari said as the hatch closed behind him.

“Why?” Brock frowned.

“Smaller ship, I think you have seen more action than we have.  There are times I wish I had a smaller ship and more freedom. Instead I have been running my father’s ship.”

Brock sighed as they walked into the galley, “What is going on?”

“Alright, I'll tell you what I know. A general order went out fleet wide to arrest any and all chip pilots. The U.E.F. is running a sting operation where they are taking all of them and nixing the chip.”

“That kills them!” Oro fumed.

Ilari sighed,  “Sometimes worse. Killing is merciful. There happens to be only two pilots that have lived out of the group that Ian was altered with. My mother being as she is on the committee for oversight of the U.E.F. wants to know why these two survived when the others didn’t. There is something different about these two—“

“Ian is not a lab rat!” Brock stormed.

“Well neither was my father.  My father carried the same chip that Ian does, just in civilian form. He was one of the few legal chips. The irony is he would have been brought here anyway, as Ian was, on this new mandate. The only thing is my father’s chip started failing last month.  He had a stroke after the accident he was involved in when his hovercar crashed on the way to some Parliamentary function. He sustained some head trauma and it seems to have set off a chain reaction that caused his chip to fail. But back to Ian. This is political, this whole matter is political. I did not tip off the U.E.F. as to where the Lady was. All I know is, Anna wants to bring down Overlinger, and that is where the connection may have been made. Overlinger could have said something to the U.E.F. because he is trying to bring you down. Anna hates his guts and wants to see him fail, so she has been blocking him in court, and she may be the reason you ended up with the Lady. I don’t know, she can buy judges, lawyers….”

“Wanda Lighthouse could have also said something,” Rose pointed out softly.

“Wanda Lighthouse is as crazy as a black market chip or a shit-house rat. She is a schemer, nothing more,” Ilari dismissed it with a flick of his hand. “Casey Carlson told me how she had gone over the edge when your old man  died, Brock. Casey watched the whole thing unfold as she got her ass away from Overlinger. She didn’t like it that Wanda was banging Overlinger just for the thought that somehow doing so would give her power.  That aside, I know Ian is being well treated and they are running tests on him. He has not been tortured or harmed in any way. Anna was able to secure that much. I don’t know, however, if they will let him leave.  Ever. There's a tug of war going on over the matter of the chip.”

“How did you find out about Ian’s chip?” Brock wondered.

“Anna told me they were looking for two pilots that went Indie. I lied about knowing him.  I lied until she caught me with some facts she had gotten out of Overlinger. The fact he was fired, the fact that he was with you…The other they are looking for is Rachel Van Horn. Anna thought that since I was out there, I may have run into them at some point. You have to believe me Brock, I would never jeopardize you or your crew like that. I had no clue until she told me.”

“Don’t know Rachel,” Brock shook his head.

“Is Aleksi alright?” Zahirah wondered.

Ilari looked at her. “ We…lost him.”

“I,” Zahirah hesitated.  “I didn’t realize….“ Rose watched Zahirah sit down at the galley table for a moment before she shot up and went over to the sink. “Where are my manners? Ilari do you want some coffee? I can brew it up.”

“No Zee. I'll be fine. Brock you should be careful though.”

“Why?” Brock demanded.

Ilari sighed sharply. “Brock you should also know that the Indies are being targeted because of that attack on the destroyer. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Doing business has just become more difficult. There will be more inspections and more stops. The piracy is being clamped down on, hard. From what I can tell the charge is being led by Firsts who want to control the monopoly and quash the independent movement. They are going after everything—chips, piracy any thing and everything that they can control. They want to ensure that they, and they alone, control the trade.”

“Overlinger,” Brock sighed.

“Probably. He has the most to gain by shutting us down.”

“Us?”

“I'm with you Brock, Indie. I think what they are doing is wrong. I want Overlinger to hang, but I don’t know if I want Hewes stepping up to fill that void even if Hewes is easier to deal with. But there may be more players we don’t know or we haven’t made the connection to. There are several families that adamantly oppose the Indies, as you know. Understanding where they all fit is nearly impossible. I've probably only scratched the surface. Anna has gotten caught between doing right, and following the will of the other Firsts. She voted against  the motion to crack down, and she was one of few dissenting votes cast.”

Brock studied Ilari’s mop of long curly blonde hair and sighed softly.  It felt as if this was a no win situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You want to talk?” Rose asked softly as she held out a cup of cocoa to Zahirah.

The cook looked up from the scrap of paper and thanked Rose as she put down the map and took the warm cup from her outstretched hands.  Rose settled next to her and gave her a small smile of encouragement.  “Brock is trying to talk the authorities into letting Ian go. He’s been on the comm. for hours.”

“They wont let  him go with his chip,” Zahirah said softly.  She picked up her BID which she had placed on the table and turned the disk in her fingers.  “Ian was green when he saw this.”

“Jealous or bamboozled?”

“A little of both, he’s always longed to walk through doors and not be questioned. He's always been a little jealous of you and Brock, always feels a little inferior. It wasn’t something he liked to admit. He was always at odds with Oro because he always thought she was hunting him and that she would turn him in. No one loved him Rose. He was always on the outside looking in, or so he felt.”

“Lyle believed in him,” Rose said gently.

“Lyle was a good man. How he let Overlinger walk all over him I don’t understand.”

“Overlinger is greedy and…no I don’t understand it either and I was there in the office. That seems so long ago, yet it really wasn’t, was it?”

“Apparently not.” Zahirah looked at the BID.   “I can only think of one way to get Ian out of this mess.”

“What is that?”

“Make a trade. Anna is a vain person and I wonder if an appeal to her vanity wouldn’t work.”

“What do you mean?” Rose was genuinely puzzled now.

“Trade my engagement with Vil for Ian’s life.  It’s not much, but it keeps a commoner from marrying into that family. Think about it, what the Firsts go through, the lengths they go to with high fees and rigorous screening when a commoner marries in? They all but discourage it. She doesn’t think much of me, and knowing her, she is beside herself that her oldest son, her heir, would want to marry a common Yishuvian, and an Indie to boot. When I was in Helsinki I could tell that she did not approve of the life that her boys were living even though she basically ignored them and allowed them to be raised by their father.”

“What about your status on Yishuv? Doesn’t that count for anything? You came from a good family, right?”

“I was a commoner, nothing more than breeding stock. I am not a First. My engagement to Vil is also nothing more then a promise right now, anyway. A maybe, a someday... But if I could trade that for Ian’s release? I would.”

“But you could have so much with Vil,” Rose sighed.

“I could, but Ian means more.” Zahirah shook her head, “Anna is a vain person deep down and I wonder if it isn’t a weakness.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Anna Jannula sat at her computer and worked on the summary of information and thought about her next steps. She glanced out at the setting sun, the storm had begun to move out leaving breaks in the clouds that caused the light to change. It was a harsh world outside the view ports of the perma-dome she occupied.

It would take some uni’s but it could work. Changing, altering computer records had been done before.  Ian Murphy could vanish into the labyrinth of the system just as easily as he had disappeared twelve years ago.  All it took was a change here, a spelling error there, a miss-entered number and he would vanish. It was also very hard to trace, if it was done correctly. One little slip up here, one there and it was done.

Ian had what she needed in terms of some very damning evidence about what had happened on New Providence and the actions the U.E.F. had taken against the general population. He had seen the atrocities, he was a unique witness. He also was witness to another matter that had more far reaching implications. He knew about the short cuts contractors had taken when building equipment for the U.E.F. He knew the shoddy equipment they had installed cost lives. He knew the names of sons and daughters of Firsts that had enlisted in the officer’s corps only to be killed by inept orders, poor workmanship and worse, poor maintenance. He alone had the information because the other pilots, the ones he had served with had all gone insane, or they were dead. They were dead because either they committed suicide, they were lost in combat ops or because they tried to talk and were silenced by those who didn’t want the problem revealed.  Ian alone had slipped from them into the shadow world of the Indies.  The data on his chip had not been corrupted, he was still alive.   His testimony could shake foundations, and without naming names Anna could begin building her case and tearing down people like Overlinger. Ian had given her a clue   where to look…Ian had walked rather than go along with a cover up. He had seen the deaths of personnel, deaths he couldn’t close his eyes to, deaths caused by equipment failures….and other Firsts tried to cover it up. The download of the memory SIM in his chip had proven very enlightening. Keeping the data intact now became important. Now there was a second copy of the information, a back up. Later on Ian’s testimony could still be used in court, but for now she had the data she needed.  Anna got what she wanted. Her source had been correct after all. Overlinger had been siphoning arms to a citizens group he controlled The idea behind this group was to appear to be part of the citizen’s uprising but in fact were doing Overlinger’s bidding to disrupt the U.E.F.’s operations. Overlinger was trying to take control of the U.E.F. by waging a three way war making U.E.F. operations nearly impossible so he could take full control of the military. So far though, it had not worked and the more evidence Anna could gather, the easier it would be to expose him for what he was: a murdering lying son of a bitch who had aspirations of control of the U.E.G. through commerce and politics. Ian’s transport had been heavily damaged by weapons built for the U.E.F. The energy signatures were clear on his chip’s records. Overlinger had abused his position on the Armed Services committee. Overlinger did not know Ian was a chipped pilot, somehow he never looked to see which if any were still alive and still wanted. He looked to make a name for himself, his ambition and his greed eclipsed his common sense.

She picked up Zahirah Sayar’s BID and smiled softly. Yes she had gotten what she wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~

Brock was in a sour mood. He was discouraged and angry that he was ordered to leave Kobuk Prime. Even Ilari, who usually met matters with a smile, was not smiling.  Everyone was on edge it seemed. He grumbled about leaving Ian on this hell hole.

When Brock walked aboard and ordered all hatches closed, Zahirah went quietly to her quarters and picked up the shirt she had been mending. It was one of Ian’s few shirts and he had caught it on a tab of metal trying to help Nova with a tricky repair. He had torn it the night before he was arrested.  It still smelled of him ever so slightly when Zahirah buried her face in it and let her tears flow.

Brock walked forward past the others and dropped down the two steps and stopped dead in his track.

“What course are ya gonna want to set once we blow this ice ball?”

Ian had his head shaved clean, his beard gone. Someone had supplied him with the uniform of a U.E.F. grunt, and since this was a U.E.F. medical facility? No one would look twice.

Brock stared for a moment before he sat down in the copilots seat. “You know, you look like shit.”

“Well I miss Zee’s good cookin’, and—“ Ian smiled slightly. “Sorry about the cloak and dagger stuff, but I’m supposed to make a quiet exit here. You’re  going to have to do all communicatin’ with flight control.”

“How did you get on board?” Brock wondered.

“Like I always do, anyway I would like to get out of here.  I hate this place. Too many memories associated with it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

 Ian folded the map and slipped it into his pocket.  Strange, he thought how things revealed themselves. He knew what the map was now, but he didn’t want to tell  Brock. Why he didn’t see it before was  beyond him, but now it was so clear, it wasn’t funny. He rubbed his chin and frowned. It was odd not to have the beard there.  It would grow back.  Maybe he should wear his hair long, like Brock had, no one could see the scars time had left upon him.

The Lady whispered to him softly but whatever the techs had done to him was lost in a haze of medications. It wasn’t the same, it wasn’t the same at all.

New Providence. That was what the map was of. It was a map to the stronghold Overlinger had on New Prov  where he dealt in black market items. His transport had been hit by fire not from the citizens, but from a group operating under Overlinger’s leadership. He had been on the armed services committee with Anna Jannula, and she suspected his activity but could never prove it. This map was a solid link in the case.  But why had the old woman given it to Brock? Unless one brought down Overlinger by exposing this stronghold? What was this desperate game that was going on between Firsts like Overlinger who exploited everything and others like Jannula who wanted change? He could sell the map to Jannula or better yet, to Hewes. His chip had only revealed where his ship had been hit, the readings from her nav unit. And looking at this chart? The old woman had drawn what had been in his head as a half remembered bit of data that always seemed familiar to him yet he didn’t know why. He wasn’t plugged into the U.E.F. data base, he didn’t have U.E.F. charts. If Anna knew of this map…hell Richards could have fun with this—he could hit the U.E.F. and Overlinger at the same time. Now that could be interesting and very lucrative as well.

When he slept his dreams were intense, bordering on nightmares. Some of it half remembered, some of it just the mad wanderings the mind took. He dreamed of Zahirah and potatoes, he dreamed of chess pieces, he dreamed of dropping troops into New Prov, he dreamed of feeling the ship dying around him which would jerk him awake in a cold sweat. It made him remember an engineer he served with and how she died because of the shoddy workmanship of the subcontractors. The stories that Oro told were too familiar and sometimes too painful. There were times that Nova reminded him too much of that engineer, and that hurt even more.

Ian picked up one of the black pawns and turned it in his fingers, his nail catching on the seam of the mold, an imperfection  cast into the piece.

What had all this cost him?

He set the pawn back down.

 Only the map and time would tell.

~~~~~~~~~~

The End

 End: Episode Eight

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 Posted  April  1, 2008

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