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2507: The Star Trader Chronicles

Episode 3: With A Chip On His Shoulder

Black. Simple, clean, dark, black.

Ian Murphy settled back with a sigh and looked out the view ports at the strangely warped scene in front of him.  Light speed, or whatever you wanted to call it, did strange things to visual inputs.

 The Aurora Lady, a Stockton Chinook class freighter, was purring along nicely, if you could call it purring, and this made Ian feel far more at ease. They had been delivering a load of goods to Halcyon and had managed to secure an outgoing load to a world called Khinan-le. They were twenty-two days into a lift of twenty-six.  Four days left to go.  The load was nothing remarkable, but it paid the bills.  Ian had hauled to Khinan-le before and knew it was a rather hard scrabble world that struggled like many to make ends meet.  There was nothing remarkable about the population, nor of the location of the system. It was no Halcyon with its swamp, it was no Freehold.  It was just another point, just another world. Ian had heard once it was like Seattle many, many years ago. There was a large resident population of Earth Asian entrepreneurs. There once had been a thriving lumber trade, but now it was trying to make a new foothold and a new name for itself with industry.  The shipment they carried was for a small chain of herbal shops for residents that practiced traditional medicine and needed supplies from Halcyon to stock its shelves.  Win Green, the ship’s doctor, had shown a mild interest in the matter, and the thought of learning traditional medicine seemed to give her something to look forward to.

 He contemplated getting up but decided against it because he like watching the stars. He finally got up when his brain finally kicked into gear.  He walked through the door that separated the bridge from the galley and looked at everyone that was there. Cowboy was playing with a ratty looking deck of cards with his hat pushed back on his sandy blond head. Oro was watching his fingers and glanced at Ian with a blink of her elegant eyes.  Zahirah, the cook, was at her post manning the cook top creating something that smelled good.  Ian had no clue what it was, just that it smelled good and filling.  Brock was walking in from his quarters, and in his wake was his pixie of a cousin, Rose.

 Absent as usual were the ship’s doctor, and the mechanic. Ian stopped for a moment to ponder why.   He knew he was a bit stand offish himself, and it didn’t make life on the small ship any easier.  Things were crowded to say the least and living took cooperation. They had already had an incident of what the doctor labeled as Space Fever, a condition that wasn’t too different from Cabin Fever.  Oro had decided to toss him over the galley counter breaking every plate on the ship in the process.  Nova and Rose had a wrestling contest.  Cowboy had been basically called a lazy sod and had gotten tossed out of the shower.  Brock had endured all of this craziness around him with an air of distain. Pulling into Halcyon had been a relief, even if the air was rather fetid, and the place a gooey swamp.  It offered one thing—open air.

 Now they were back into things and the run to Khinan-le would soon be over. It didn’t bother Ian, usually.  He was so used to having the four walls of ship around him that he felt odd to be on a planet.  He was more likely to go stir crazy on dirt then he was out here.

 Ian rubbed the back of his head and felt the slight lump of scar tissue where his chip had been put in when he was eighteen by the U.E.F.  Sometimes it itched, sometimes it felt like a rock.  Most of the time he didn’t notice it was there.

 There was no privacy to speak of on a ship and Ian thanked his lucky stars that Brock had insisted that everyone take a small living unit rather then try to hot bunk it like some ships did.  Ian never cared for knowing someone else was in his bunk when he was in the control room—but that was the way things were when you were training to be a pilot. At least as a pilot he had his own bunk where he could stick pictures or keep a book, not that he ever had pictures or books it seemed.  When he signed on with Brock’s dad part of his agreement was that he had to have his own cubbie, a place to call his own.  Lyle was fine with that.  It was a fair trade in his book. He got a talented pilot for the cost of one living unit.

 The Aurora Lady was smaller and older than most of the cargo ships out there. Her engines were powerful enough that she could lift a respectable load, but she looked like a dwarf or runt next to newer ships such as the sleek Norse Wind.

 Ian studied Zahirah Sayar.  She was handing Brock a cup of coffee and tending to her chores. Ian was still puzzled as to her connection to the Jannula brothers who owned and ran the Norse Wind.  It just didn’t add up in his mind and there were things one just didn’t discuss on a ship this small.  Ian knew she had been a waitress in a rather dumpy café back in Nashville and had seen how little she made working that job.  Even the long conversation she had with him back on Freehold didn’t shed much light on the matter.  He knew what he suspected, and that was that. She was one of the brother’s lover but that could only be disproved by her. It didn’t add up because she was tagged, because she was just a waitress.  Something hinted that she had experienced discrimination because of her tag but she hadn’t removed her tag as hot-headed Oro had insisted upon.  Zahirah had made a very good argument in favor of the removal of Oro’s tag and then declined to remove her own.  This puzzled him. But then again, women tended to do that to him anyway.

Rose walked by and glanced at him, “You’re thinking too much. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Knock it off Rosie, I was doing a nav calc in my head,” Ian said.

“What have I told you?” she asked looking over the frames of her glasses at him.

“That doing nav calcs are not good for me.” He knew what she meant, it was calling her Rosie, like some little priss of a girl, with curls and pigtails, in a fluffy dress and shiny shoes.  Or like some beef of a woman who set rivets in a factory with arms bigger then his whole body. Either way, Rose hated it and he still couldn’t resist pulling her chain, making her jump because he knew she would. She snorted and shook her head heading off towards her quarters.  She was grousing under her breath about the stupid Irish.

Ian sighed, gave a small shrug and went back onto the bridge where he settled back at the controls.  The Lady whispered that all systems were within parameters and that the course was steady. Ian knew that in the galley.  He knew it when he was in bed, he knew it everywhere.  The Lady always whispered to him. He yawned and settled back in the seat putting his feet up.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

“Brock I have a question for you,” Rose said as she sat down to the table for dinner.  The rest of the crew was already seated and she was the last to arrive.

 Brock had picked up his fork and was turning it in his fingers. “About what?”

“This contract,” Rose said as she put down a C.I.D. with a copy of the contract in question displayed.

“To move the machine parts?” Brock blinked.

“Yes that one.”

“What's wrong with it?” Ian wondered glancing up from his plate.

“Well have either of you taken a load from Khinan-le before?”

“Ten years ago, one or two loads,” Ian shrugged and shoveled his noodles up.

“Well, don’t they have a strong teamster’s union?” Rose frowned.

“What's a teamster?” Cowboy wondered.

“It’s an old word for cargo haulers,” Win pointed out.

“Oh. Guess that kinda word isn’t used in the kinda books I read. Only you, with your medical comic books, use words like that.”

“Medical comic books?” Win winced.

“You have to admit that one that had the diagram of how the brain works, you know the topography of the cortex, did look like a comic book,” Ian said. It had actually made him wince thinking about his chip and what it did to his cortex.  That was more information than he wanted to know.

“Or the one on the arterial network?” Zahirah added.

“I don’t look at them as comic books,” Win said in a rather prim tone.

“That aside, don’t they have a strong union?” Rose wondered.

“Nothing was said to me when we talked to Reginald Owens about unions Rose,” Brock said looking at his cousin.

“Well I just want to be sure,” Rose said with a note of doubt. “If this all goes well, we may actually turn a profit.”

“And dig ourselves out of a hole?” Cowboy said with a skeptical tone as he sipped his iced tea.

“We might,” Rose said with a gentle shrug. “We might actually be able to make our docking fees and get some fuel for the shuttles.”

Nova gave a thoughtful nod and added,  “Things are looking up then.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

“What about these unions, Ian?” Brock wondered sitting beside Ian in the cockpit.

“When I lifted, they either didn’t exists or… I don’t know.  That kind of thing I never handled. I just lifted.” Ian was getting ready to drop the Aurora Lady into sub light speed as part of their approach to the planet.

Brock sat back and watched his pilot make the maneuvers and contact planet traffic control, which would bring them into their groove for their docking slot at the spaceport. There was a bit of turbulence as Ian dropped the Lady into the atmosphere and within the hour they were docked.

Brock patted Ian’s shoulder and shot him a small smile, “One more down.”

“I think everyone is looking forward to a little air time if you know what I mean. By the way it’s a balmy 25 degrees with a north wind blowing at 10. Humidity is high and there’s a chance of snow.”

“Oh, what is this?! We go from a swamp to arctic chill?” Brock sounded indignant.

“Sorry, this is the summer season after all,” Ian snickered. “Looks like bikini weather for the locals.”

“Oh no, Ian—“

“Actually it’s fall, and normal.”

“Just cold!”

“Be glad it isn’t raining. Then it would be good Irish weather. You Southern Boys have thin blood.”

“Well fair is fair. You complain about Nashville’s heat,” Brock said in his defense.

“Fair is fair,” Ian agreed.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Khinan-le was cold and Ian drew his pilot’s jacket around him a little tighter, flipped the collar up to try to keep the icy blow from going down his neck, chilling him further and robbing any heat from his back.  He could use a cup of Zahirah’s strong brew about now.  He and Brock had been making the delivery of the cargo of medicinal plants to their buyer and Ian had decided on the spur of the moment to walk back rather then trying to tandem on the quad they used to pull the cargo to the warehouse. Brock had cursed the whole system as backwards, and Ian reminded him that they weren’t in Kansas anymore, let alone Nashville with proper cargo handling.

Ian normally didn’t take off on foot in a port, especially one that seemed to be boot camp for the U.E.F. Ian wanted to just get back to the ship and lay low. There were more patrols then Ian had seen since he was deployed with his transport. It had never been like this when he lifted here before. Brock shot him a wary look but Ian shrugged it off telling Brock that he could hear them but they couldn’t hear him.  Brock accepted this reminder with a sharp sigh.  He had business, and business was getting ready for another load, one that would get them out of there as quickly as possible.

The faces Ian saw were varied as any port he had ever been in, the predominant being the dark hair and almond shaped eyes of the Earth Asian populations.  Ian didn’t know one from another, he only knew there were different flavors.  He passed noodle sellers huddling by their charcoal fires that heated the copper pots of noodles.  He passed other that sold fish or tofu.  The dumpling sellers were the most intriguing with their bamboo steamers that emitted the most wonderful scents.  Around him people ate with chopsticks and talked in sing-song languages.

There were motor bikes, rickshaws and all sorts of things. Bright silks hung in some stores along with kites and whatnots. The girls were, for the most part, dainty creatures that smiled softly.  As an outsider, he was used to people not looking, not smiling but the polite smiles he saw as he walked made him feel a little warmer inside.  There was a lot to be said about the simplicity of a smile from a pretty girl on a strange world.

Ian watched the patrols carefully and tried to match what he was hearing with the names of streets or addresses of shops.  They didn’t seem to be looking for anyone as most of the reports were routine. Ian wished he didn’t hear all of it, that he could turn it off sometimes, but it wasn’t like that.  The U.E.F. wanted their pilots to be in constant communications with their ships, and the personal.  He couldn’t turn off and when he was on a world like this,  he heard most everything.  The only way to make it shut up was to lift and get away from the planetary communication network.

He didn’t stop to window shop, he kept moving at a leisurely but steady pace. Cold was beginning to numb his hands though and his cheeks were very defiantly chilled.  The cold didn’t seem to matter to the locals who kept on their  with business with their own purposeful speed.

Ian raised his hands to  his mouth to breath on his fingers.  He watched a squad checking a woman.  He had not heard them report to their superiors. The woman was young and she was giving the patrol some lip.  Ian had seen that before as well.  There was nothing new there.  He kept moving so as not to draw undo attention to himself.  They were not looking for him and he wasn’t going to change that either.

A glance over his shoulder as he adjusted his collar told him that the girl and the squad were behind him, and arguing. an sighed and put his chin down and walked on. This was just another gritty port on another gritty planet.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Ian rubbed his hands together and shook them. They were stinging as the warmed up and it wasn’t all that pleasant.

He looked over the cockpit and double checked that the A.I. was off.  He did not want the U.E.F. to pick up her carrier signal that talked with the unit in his head.  That signal could be picked up by a remote scanner and there was no way he wanted the U.E.F. to be alerted to that.  It was bad enough that they probably had some kind of record for blasting out of Nashville, but if the U.E.F. found the A.I. then they would be hung.  The report from Nashville more then likely had not reached out here yet.  Records didn’t travel very quickly. Communication out here was spotty at best and a report from Earth probably would not make it out here for weeks, if not months.  It was a bureaucracy and the paperwork had to weave its way through the works.  Staying at least one jump ahead of that was the trick, and it was not an easy trick to pull off.  They were not the only Indies out here, and, if the U.E.F. was going to arrest them all for the infractions of the law, they would have the courts hopelessly backed up. Actually they were anyway.  With only a pretend government in place it was a broken system and it was fast becoming every one for themselves. The Firsts had more influence then the actual government and the government was a puppet organization which passed meaningless regulations. Laws were rarely enforced unless it directly benefited someone or lined someone’s pocket.

The further away from the hub, from Earth and the First Worlds he got, the better he would feel.  He liked the fringes where communication was lousy, where the U.E.F. didn’t have its fingers in every pie.  It was where freedom truly existed.  He wandered off the bridge and into the galley where Zahirah was working and Rose was leaning on the counter.

“When Brock gets back we are going to look for new tableware,” Rose said looking at Ian, “since we didn’t find anything on Halcyon.”

“New? Oh tired of metal plates?” Ian wondered. “Hasn’t bothered me any.”

“I, for one, do not like them.  It reminds me of my time on New Providence,” Zahirah said.

Ian winced, New Providence was one of the perennial hot spots were trouble never seemed to go away. It was the scene of many deaths and much fighting. He had dropped there once and never wanted to do it again. Snake pits held more appeal.

An hour later Oro came in with Cowboy and Brock.  They seemed rather satisfied when Brock handed a bag of coin to Rose. It was their pay for lifting the plants from Halcyon. Rose looked at it for a moment and went off to her quarters to do her counting. Ian followed Brock and leaned in his doorway as the captain of the Aurora Lady took off his jacket and hung it up.

“Cold as a well digger’s rear end,” Brock said. “Isn’t that what you used to say?”

“Brock the number of U.E.F. patrols here has me a bit worried,” Ian said.

“Oro said the same thing, but she wasn’t aware of any trouble.”

“There is trouble. Their communications are active.”

Brock studied Ian a moment, “And you hear it?”

“Aye, open channel reports,” Ian shrugged.

Brock sighed, “What is the problem? Can you tell?”

“They are not looking for us, but there seems to be some unrest within the local population. Sounds almost like a union thing. Maybe Rose was right, maybe there is a strong union like the longshoreman or something that’s causing trouble.”

“Union? I don’t know Ian.”

Ian nodded, “There are warnings  about what to watch for, suspicious activity, weapons, the like.  I would say let’s get the load as quickly as possible and get out.”

Brock glanced at him and nodded. “Rose and I have a meeting with Casperson, the company rep here. I fully intend to be on our way quickly.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 “A load of machine parts,” Brock said with a slight frown. “that’s what the contract says.”

 “As you might have surmised Capt. Brockman, getting the parts off world with the problems we are having has only made doing business more difficult.” The man across from Brock said lacing his fingers over his ample belly. Casperson was one of those large boned large framed people, and he carried too much weight.  Which meant someone paid him well, so he could indulge in his vice of eating too much.

 Brock nodded. He had heard some of the other Indies complaining about the Union’s strong arm tactics as they tried to break the Company and renegotiate their contracts.  There had been looting of cargo, some crews had been assaulted in bars by union members and  picket lines were set up in front of the gates to the docks.  It had been more involved then Ian had indicated.  It was not unheard of to have U.E.F. squads show up to ensure that the cargo was loaded and to keep violence to a minimum.  People were getting hurt in the unrest.

“It also seems that as an Independent you would take  a load like this.” Casperson pointed out with an expansive wave of his hand.

“Well, yes.” Brock agreed felling a bit uneasy.

“Good. Then it seems we have a deal. We will have the cargo to your berth for loading tomorrow.”

Brock glanced at Rose as they rose to their feet. He shook on the deal and walked out with Rose.  One glance as Rose pulled her coat around her told him that she was miffed, to put it nicely.

“You know what we are?”

“No Rose, I thought I was an Indie.”

“We are scabs.  We are crossing a picket line by taking this load,” she huffed.

“It gets us off with a paying load fast.  Its an honest wage, and—“ Brock shrugged.

“And what are those others fighting for? An honest wage perhaps?” Rose shook her head.

“We will take this load, and it will get us out of here fast,” Brock repeated.

Rose shook her head and marched back to the ship feeling unhappy about the whole matter.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 “So are we going to see anyone you know?” Ian whispered in Zahirah’s ear as they entered the bar. Ian asked Zahirah if she wanted some time away from the ship and she had accepted with a slight smile. Ian was itching again to see something other then the same four walls, which was unusual for him.

“Why?”

“It just strikes me that you met a lot of people back in Nashville,” Ian said with a shrug.

“I did I suppose,” she blinked. “ I never really considered it before.”

Ian went up to the bar and Zee stayed at his elbow.  Ian settled himself on a stool and glanced at her. “Nothing like a night out,” he shrugged, ordering up two ‘Irish’ coffees.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” Zahirah said.

“Special occasion, plus the amount of whiskey in this isn’t all that much.”

“What's the occasion?”

“Getting in the black on the books,” Ian smiled slightly. “We will have that load secured tomorrow and—“

“We’re off again.”

Ian nodded as the drinks were put down in front of him and he slapped a coin down pushing it over to the bartender. “You don’t like this?”

“It takes some getting used to.  Vil used to say how tough it could be. Others as well. The trip to Earth was quite dull and going to New Prov well that was just stressful.”

“I had to go there once, and I never want to do it again.” Ian sighed and glanced at her.  He thought about her and her reasons for declining Greens offer to remove her tag.  It didn’t make sense.  He sighed and finally asked, “ Zee, I know you don’t like talkin’ about it but why didn’t ya have Green cut?”

“Oro wanted it more then I did.”

“That isn’t true,” Ian observed with a shake of his head.

“I'm not ready.  I'm giving it one more chance that maybe you and Brock are right.  Doing counts more.  Its what you are not what you were born.” Zahirah took a sip of her coffee, “Besides I don’t want Green to do it.”

“Why?”

“Why? It’s a matter of trust. As you so bluntly pointed it out, its like loosing one’s virginity.”

Ian blushed and chuckled, “I didn’t  quite mean it that way.”

“But it makes sense,” Zahirah said. “I have to trust the person who does it. I'm still learning to trust.”

“Yeah, it does make some sense,” Ian said softly after thinking about it a bit.  He glanced up at the mirror behind the bar and watched the room for a moment. He watched Zahirah finish hers and wipe the cream with her finger.  She smiled slightly at him.

“When we made the delivery this morning with Brock, I saw something I’d like to show you,” he said holding out his arm.

Zahirah slipped hers inside his and followed him out into the cold evening air. She gave him a small perplexed glance as the door shut behind them.

Ian felt a little better in the open.  He could have sworn he saw a scanner in the bar mirror.

“Zee I don’t want to alarm you, but they were checking tags in that bar.”

“Why?” She wondered with a frown.

“I don’t know, but I think we’d better head back. The union could have been up to something or the U.E.F. is getting sly with their use of scanners.  Either prospect isn’t good.”

Zahirah glanced at him with some concern but kept her arm in his against the wind and cold.

“You want to know something?” Ian said softly.

“What is that?”

“I envy you,” Ian laughed.

“You envy me? Why?”

“Because you have friends like Vil and Lari,”

“What are you saying? You have Brock—“

“You make them far easier then I do.  It’s not easy livin’ like this always moving, trusting very few.”

“Well it wasn’t easy when my friends would leave, Vil and Lari are more like my brothers,” Zahirah shrugged.

“I didn’t have brothers,” Ian lamented.

“None?”

“Nah, I was an only and unwanted. That’s why I left at sixteen, I couldn’t stay.” Ian sighed, “So that is why I envy you.”

Ian suddenly paused as his chip made a report in his head.  He glanced around and spotted the patrol as they moved down the street in the crowds. He wished he could shut it off, but at the same time he also knew exactly where the U.E.F. was and what they were doing.  Having someone else’s voice in his head wasn’t pleasant. He couldn’t tell Zahirah how he felt about it either, she wouldn’t understand.

“We gotta make a run,” Ian whispered. “But we can't draw attention either.  Act natural.”

Zahirah nodded and slipped her arm back into his and acted like this was normal. Her heart still pounded but she knew it was a game.  She had seen it on New Prov, she didn’t like it, but she knew if they ran, that would only draw unwanted attention.

Ian and Zahirah worked their back to the ship using a round about route to be certain they were not being followed.  The night had gotten colder it seemed.

Nova looked worried when they walked into the galley and Zahirah put some coffee on. “They came around looking,” Nova said when she appeared from the corridor.

“We ran into a patrol as well, I don’t know what they are looking for,” Ian sighed.

“No I think it was something about union activists or something.  Maybe weapons?” Nova speculated. “Our dock fees were all paid and our papers good so—“

“So they went away,” Ian frowned feeling skeptical that it went that easily.

Zahirah handed Ian the cup of coffee sweet and blond as he liked it. “What do you think is going on?”

Ian shrugged, “I'll keep watch, get some sleep.  We have a load to secure in the morning.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Did you sleep at all?” Brock winced when Ian walked in from the bridge in search of coffee.

“No, I didn’t and I couldn’t.” Ian groused.  His stomach was aching all night long it seemed.  He had a headache to boot. It wasn’t caused by the chip but it was caused by the tension he was feeling.  Something just didn’t seem right and it made him worry.

“Brock?” Oro’s voice said over the squawk box. “You need to come out here, pod ramp.”

“I'll be right there,” Brock hit the squawk box with his fist and shot a look at Ian.

Ian walked quietly in Brock’s wake.

Oro and Cowboy were standing at the end of the ramp looking at a group of men. They were keeping an eye on things waiting for the hauler that would bring the load.

Rose had been finishing paperwork and was inside the cargo pod with Nova and Zahirah, getting the hoists ready to receive the shipment and stow it.

“Oh no,” Brock murmured as he looked  over the gathered crowd.

Ian felt his scalp prickle. It was too familiar. It was too much like Nashville. His heart started pounding again and a cold sweat prickled his brow.  It was a cold day too, so this just made him feel clammy and icy.

Zahirah and Nova came out ready to move the parts but stopped and hung back when they saw the men.  Zahirah quietly went back inside and told Green to be ready. She reappeared a moment later. Rose joined Brock, silently standing by her cousin.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” Brock said standing a little taller.

“Are you union members?” one man asked. “Members of the Brotherhood of Traders?”

“No, we are not,” Brock admitted.

“I'm sorry, but we cannot allow you to leave with this load.  This is a union job—“

Ian glanced around. So these were the union members.  They didn’t look happy or settled.  There was an air of uneasiness about them.  It showed in shuffling feet and nervous glances.  Ian was nervous too.  He didn’t like crowds.

“And we were hired on Halcyon.  A representative of the company hired us.  Halcyon is not a union planet,” Rose informed them while trying to make herself stand taller than her five foot one frame. “Those parts are headed back to Halcyon, so I believe the law says that we haul under Halcyon’s rules.”

“You realize this takes food from our families’ mouths, don’t you? It pays for our health care, our heating,“ another man said, stepping forward.

“Yes I do realize that, but we are not part of your union.  The wage we are paid also pays our heating, our water, and our dock fees.”

“What about taxes?” someone else said.

“We paid taxes to your government as part of our docking fees,” Brock pointed out.

“We can not allow you to load this shipment, Captain.” The leader shook his head. “Hauling under Halcyon’s laws only under cuts our own, it was a way of going around our rules.  It’s a game they play and we don’t like it. It cheats us.”

Ian rubbed his temple and sighed.  He didn’t like this and a glance at Nova revealed that the Mech was also nervous and  looked as if she would rather be anywhere but here.  Zahirah and Cowboy stood quietly to one side watching closely.  Oro had taken a spot close to, but behind Brock and her hand was on her sidearm and her face was set in a hard expression.

Brock glanced at his cousin and Ian could see that Rose was ready for a fight, but not a fist fight.  She was ready to fight with words, which was her style.

Ian felt his stomach turn a flip flop as he caught the glimpse of U.E.F. helmets moving through the crowd.

Something didn’t feel right about the whole thing. Why troops? Ian realized they had not reported arriving at the dock over the open channel.  No one had whispered in his head. The union might also be listening and if the U.E.F. wanted to stop them--

“What are those men for?” Brock wondered also seeing several squads of soldiers moving in.

“Those men are here to see that you load that shipment,” the union leader said. “We are here to see you don’t.”

Brock blinked and looked at Rose.

“He's right, Brock.  Who else would be protecting a First’s interests? A First owns the company that makes the parts—“ Ian shrugged.

“I don’t want trouble with your union,” Brock said. “We brought in a contracted load, and all we would like to do is leave.”

Ian blinked and felt nauseous again, he felt cold and nauseous. He kept a wary eye on the squad as they lined up and cleared a path for a heavy hauler that was bringing in the load.  Protesters and union members were milling around and growing more  restless now that the load had actually arrived at the dock.  Ian glanced at Oro wondering if she had any crowd control training.

“I understand, Captain, but you also have to understand what taking that load means to the people here. Our jobs are being taken from us by Indies like you.  You come in, hired at a lower wage then we are, you don’t pay dues.  You undercut us, making it hard for us to earn a wage to pay for our healthcare, our food.  All we want is our fair pay.  The company just wants their goods moved as cheaply as possible.”

“I understand.  History is riddled with situations like this.”

“Do you?  Why do you undercut us then? Aren’t we working towards the same goal?”

“Sure we are but I didn’t join a union, and I don’t have to follow union rules.”

Ian felt light headed. He walked over beside Brock and Rose.  Nova also joined him looking uncertain.

“I have a contract to honor,” Brock sighed glancing at the solider that had walked over to Brock to stand almost between the two men. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Ian had placed Brock between himself and the solider.

“As do we,” the union leader said.

“YOU! Load this ship, that’s an order!” the squad leader barked pointing at Brock.

Ian quietly turned to Nova and said “You heard the order.”

Ian walked past the U.E.F. soldier, with Nova, as he pulled on his gloves and looked at the cargo on the bed of the hauler.

“NO! NO SCABS!” Someone screamed.

The world around Ian suddenly exploded in a bright flash of pain---

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Brock held his ground and looked at Ian who was lying on the ground clutching his head.  Out of the corner of his eye he could see rifles being pointed.

Nova had a frightened look on her face, her eyes large and uncertain.  Rose had joined her moving away from the squad leader.  The man who had hit Ian with the rock lay dead. A single shot from a U.E.F. rifle had dropped him.

“I want no more trouble, Vangelder.  I want that ship loaded now.  You’re under arrest and if I have to, I will shoot you as well,” the solider said. “Sir do you need a medical officer?”

 Zahirah stepped forward, “I'm a medic.”

The solider let her go over to Ian who was bleeding profusely. Zahirah said something to Ian and put her arm around him pressing her hand to his head. Ian wobbled and let her lead him inside the ship away from the crowd and away from the U.E.F. squads. Brock watched her help him to his feet and walk him back onto the Lady.  He glanced at his cousin who was watching everything with a tight expression on her face.

“Load it Captain,” The soldier said brusquely.

Cowboy joined Nova and Rose as they started the hoist and prepared to transfer the load from the hauler to the cargo pod.  Another squad of soldiers showed up and began leading people away.  The man called Vangelder shot Brock a nasty look.

“As soon as this load is secured I want you out,” the squad leader said.

“Believe me that’s all I want to do,” Brock said as dock management showed up. Brock couldn’t help but notice the girth of Casperson amidst the dock workers and union members.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 Win Green was trying to make sense of what her biosign scanner was telling her. She ran the scan three times, all with the same results.  She had heard the commotion outside and was waiting in the infirmary just in case someone had gotten hurt, and indeed someone had.

She put the scanner down and looked at Zahirah who was applying pressure to Ian’s head.

Oro stuck her head inside the door and said, “How is he? Brock wants to know.  They are sending a medical officer.”

Ian opened his eyes and looked at Win. “Don’t— no officer.“

Win glanced at him and looked at Oro, “Tell them there’s no need for a medical officer. I have this under control.” Oro nodded and left.  Win went and shut the door.

Zahirah could see that Win was thinking something as she opened the drawers and found one of the suture kits. “Ian, are you chipped?” she asked in a level voice, almost casual in tone.

Ian winced, “Yeah I am.”

“Who knows?”

“Brock,” Ian answered. “Oro, maybe.”

Win sighed and laid out the tray, opening it carefully so as not to touch anything.

“Let me look,” Win said gently as Zahirah moved the compress out of the way to allow Green to look at the laceration.

“Don’t shave my head,” Ian sighed.

“I have to, the laceration runs right through your hairline. Put pressure back on that please,” she directed Zahirah.

“Don’t, please. Win, it makes me think of when they put the thing in. I don’t like it.”

“Ian,“ Win sighed and looked at him.

“If their medical officer walks in here, he will find the same thing you did and I will be arrested.”

“Then what?” Win wondered.

“They either …use a focused electron beam to burn it out or they yank it out depending on their mood.  Either way I end up getting coloring books and crayons for my birthday for the rest of my life if I'm lucky.”

Win looked at Ian for a long moment.  “I'll just shave enough to put these staples in.”

“What about them?  I mean what about the U.E.F. Medical officer and the squad?”

Win was silent while she worked.  “I'll be arrested too. Lose my license,” Win finally said.

“Oro’s tag?” Ian wondered

“For not turning  someone over,” Win said softly. “Removing Oro’s tag is a minor infraction in comparison.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ian did not look happy as Win worked.  Zahirah could see him flinch as the cold blade met hisscalp. She had never seen his hand shake before either.

When it was all over Ian had an odd patch in his hair and he still looked dazed and shaken. The staples would hold firm until he healed up and his body absorbed them as part of the healing process.  The larger the laceration, the longer the staples remained in place.  The rock had caused enough of a laceration that simple butterfly or steri-strip bandages would not hold.  He would have a very slight mark when all was said and done and his hair grew back.

“I'm going to check on the load and get ready to lift.,” He said when Win let him get up.  He didn’t look that steady on his feet.

Win was quietly putting things away and she didn’t look up when he walked out of the small infirmary.

“What is chipped?” Zahirah wondered.

“You don’t know?” Win looked at her.

Zahirah shook her head. She didn’t know.

“It means he has a computer in his head,” Win said tossing the used sponges on the tray.

“A computer?”

“Someone put an A.I. chip in his head,” Win glanced at her.

“That’s illegal, isn’t it?” Zahirah said blinking.

“It is if you are not part of the U.E.F.. The military uses them to enhance communications, and other uses, but for civilians it is illegal.”

“I know about communication implants, like the teeth but—“

“But this is more. It’s highly dangerous because the early units drove implantees insane. Very few live long.  A few Firsts have done it, its very, very expensive and they have to have permission from the government to do it.”

“Ian was U.E.F.” Zahirah said.

Win shook her head, “I didn’t know that.”

Zahirah glanced up and tried to gauge Win Green’s feelings.  The doctor was calm on the outside, but Zahirah could sense that something bothered her.  It was a look in the eye, the set of her mouth.  Green wasn’t happy but also didn’t want to admit it.

“I didn’t know Ian was a U.E.F. pilot,” Win said.

“Is that a problem? Are you having doubts about all of this?” Zahirah wondered.

“Doubts? I am riddled with doubt.  How can you be so accepting of all of this?”

Zahirah shrugged, “To me Ian is a friend.  He was the one that gave me a way out.”

“This just isn’t like what I am accustomed to. I'm not used to people getting shot at, or stoned because they just happen to want to move cargo.  I mean I know what it means to work, but I am not used to seeing this level of resistance.  I don’t know for certain if I am cut out to be an Indie, but if I go back I will be working some of those jobs no one else wants or the ones some First who has the upper rung says I have to.  I want to practice medicine, not babysit corpses.  I didn’t work my way through school for that. This was just more then I expected, a little more…wild I suppose.”

Zahirah nodded. “I agree it is a little wild, but it also isn’t sitting around either. I need to go start dinner.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Brock couldn’t eat  the chicken dinner and pushed his plate away. He rubbed his head with his fingers. “How much did that cost us Rose?” Brock wondered. “I can't say that I enjoyed paying off the union just so I could follow orders.”

“Half our profit, and I'm not fond of it either.  That like doubled our docking fees.  Pay off the union, pay off the U.E.F.—where and when does this nonsense end?” Rose said rather bitterly.  She glanced up when Ian sat down at the table and a hush seemed to fall on the crew.  “How are you feeling?”

“Well Rose I'm Irish, from Shannon, and a couple of stitches are not going to bother me,” he said picking up his fork and looking at his plate.  He set his fork back down feeling queasy again. Win Green had said he had a mild concussion.

He had gone to lay down after they had lifted because he was feeling like whirled peas and had fallen asleep. Rose studied him as if she didn’t believe a word he said. There was an invisible 300 lbs gorilla in the room and the ship wasn’t big enough to haul that around. Ian picked up his tea and sighed, “Well at least those bloody soldiers kept the peace, sort of.”

Oro threw down her fork, “How can you say that Murphy?”

“How can I say what? They just did their jobs. They just kept those dockworkers from killing us.”

“Do you know how close you came to getting arrested?” Oro fumed. “How close we came to having the U.E.F. Medic on this ship snooping around scanning you?!”

Ian looked at her a moment, “Actually I do.”

She stared back at him.

“Oh come on Oro, it’s something I've been living with for twelve bloody years! Every year it gets harder an’ harder and if I didn’t have a crew I trusted then—then all would be lost.”

Ian pushed his himself away from the table with a huff and walked onto the bridge. He wanted to argue with them.  He wanted to vent his anger at a system that punished people for being human and for having free will. He wanted to argue about a system that duped people into doing something and then punished them for taking a stand.

But he didn’t.  He didn’t want to argue about something that he could have argued until time stood still.  Arguing with Oro wouldn’t have done any good. She was as hard headed as he could be and he knew a formidable foe when he met  one. It did crew moral no favor when the members were fighting an open war. And a war was what it would become if either one of them caved into the emotions that now lit up his mind like a fire on a cold night.

He flopped in the pilot seat and flipped the cover on the A.I. controls looking at them for a moment.  The unit was off. He had lifted the ship in a conventional manner, not interfacing, just like any other pilot would working on manual control.  He couldn’t risk turning on the A.I. and having the U.E.F. pick up her carrier signal on their scanners.

He flipped the cover closed with a sigh and stared off at the stars for a moment.  They were almost out of the system and could jump to light speed.  He could hear the discussion ongoing in the galley, with Oro’s voice punctuating the air.  Brock’s steady voice countered her making, the noise sound like some complex music written maybe a thousand years ago by a very dead person named Bach.

 There was an explosion of exclamations and Ian silently guessed what bomb had just dropped.  Brock had told them all flat out what he was:  a chippie.  He  was  someone who had his body manipulated so he could be part of a ship, an abomination in some peoples’ minds, a mad monster.  Not normal.

He sat in silence for a long time as the storm from the galley seemed to calm down. He toggled the switch for the ship wide communications system, the squawk box. “Nova?” he asked.  “Can you come up to the bridge?”

 Nova Nevels appeared a moment later. “What's up?”

“There's one system I think we need to run a diagnostic on,” he said.

“Ok, sure,” Nevels blinked and shrugged.

“How much do ya know about pilot A.I. interfaces?”

Nevels made a face, “I don’t, but I can learn.” Ian nodded feeling a little foolish. Nova looked a little perplexed but her face was honest and bright. “When do you want to do it?” she wondered.

“Later, maybe when m’ head stops poundin’”

“Fine, just let me know.  I can dope out most anything, you know.”

“I've figured that out.”

He watched the young mech leave the bridge and sighed.  Why did it seem harder to ask something then it really was? Or ask for help? He didn’t know. Brock would say it was probably his stupid, hard-headed Irish pride, and he probably would be right.

 ~~~~~~~~~

Oro was in a right foul temper when Ian found her in the VIP quarters using the scant work out equipment they had found on Halcyon at the doctor’s request. Ian had made the jump to light speed and was able to walk off the bridge for a while.  He heard Oro in the VIP quarters. She was banging equipment around.

 As ex- U.E.F. grunt she was used to spending a lot of time in training, keeping her body fit and her mind sharp during long lifts.  She had to keep at a peak to use the armored enviro-suits that were used for EVA missions.  She had to be fit because you never knew what kind of enemy you would come up against.  A grunt could never be lazy or slovenly, and it was true of the pilots corps too.  Ian kept fit doing endless pushups, sit ups and chin ups when he could find the space to do it in.  The Aurora Lady was a bit of a challenge since she was so small and Doc Green’s suggestion of a treadmill and the weights would help. A bout of Space Fever was not high on the list of entertaining things to do while stuck as spam in a can out in space.

“Rather toss me over the galley counter again?” Ian rubbed his short beard and studied her.

“I’d like to put that fool head of yours through a wall!”

“Oro have you thought about how things are out here? Once we are away from the more core areas, it will loosen up, and it will not be so difficult. Right now they  are breathing down our necks but there are places that are more lax, where communication is really poor, and where we will be more free to run as we want.  This isn’t like the U.E.F., or Earth for that matter.”

Oro glared at him.

Ian sighed and leaned on the wall, “Oro—“

She stopped, set the weights down and walked over to him standing toe to toe. “How am I supposed to protect you?” she wondered in a hot tone.

“Who says I need protectin’? I've done it for twelve years, and done pretty well.”

“You are a pilot, Ian, one of the high and mighty.”

“And getting my noodle clonked with a rock made me more human?”

“What if you had been arrested? What if I hadn’t been able to stop that medic from coming on board?”

“I guess I owe you one,” he said softly, very aware that her nose was inches from his and that the heat of her anger was rather intense.

“Well, what if I hadn’t stopped them?”

“Then Brock would have lifted the ship without me,” Ian shrugged. “He's a damn good pilot in his own right.”

“You are impossible.”

“Thank you.  My mother raised me to be like this,” Ian shrugged.

“And you’re arrogant.”

“Well, what do you want me to do, lick your toes?”

“Ian, because you—arrrgg!”

“Oro I have found with those nitwits that you can stand right in front of their faces and if they are not looking, they will not see what is right under their noses. Its as if they are blind or something. Its hiding in plain sight.  They don’t know my face on site—“

“Only if they knew to look,” she pointed out. “Only if they had been handed the latest wanted list from HQ.”

Ian was silent. He had heard of the lists, ID’s of people the grunts were to look out for, and target for silencing or arrest, persons of interest, enemies of the state.  Pilots didn’t normally see the lists or work with them.   He knew when the latest update was sent to the troops but he never knew the exact content.

“Most say you’re dead,” she said softly.

 “Most?”

Oro stiffened and sighed, “Most of the other snipers, those of us that were sent to hunt down chippies or whatever they needed an accurate gun for.  I've stopped pirates, gun runners, law breakers.”

“Then why did you change? Sounds as if you knew who I was when you walked into Skinny Billy’s. Why do they think I'm dead?”

“Because you rarely were spotted. No one could get a bead on you.  You were the most slippery—“ Oro sighed.  “You have changed, you don’t look much like your bio file any longer. When I walked into Skinny Billy’s I wasn’t certain it was you.”

Ian was silent for a moment. Twelve years of running had taken its toll, he had seen gray hair in the mirror and  had seen hard eyes stare back at him.  It wasn’t the gentle face he had been born with, no he was every bit as hard and weary as his father and mother.  Time did that.   Ian sighed, “And how do I know your not gonna turn me in?”

“You don’t.”

“Exactly.”

“How did you do it?” Oro wondered as she sat down on edge of the treadmill. “Why did you walk?”

“Because I was putting pretty boots like yours onto the dirt. That was my job as transport pilot. I didn’t like watching you die.   We saw what your squads went through over the comm. channels, what it took to do your duty.  I don’t know one of my fellow pilots that wasn’t affected by what he saw or heard.  What bothers me about it is somewhere some rich S.O.B is sitting in a room and doesn’t think that his orders don’t affect a human being.  The Firsts who ordered us in didn’t care if we lived or died.  I couldn’t take it.  I couldn’t be a part of that.”

Oro glanced at him, “So you just walked.”

“Simple as that. Just walked and no one even tried to stop me.”

“No one questioned the Pilots, you were like the gods or something, voices we heard over the comm. warning us of things, telling us things.  We never saw you, so you were voices and not even real.”

“We were real,” Ian said softly. “So are we going to fight over it?”

“You didn’t like seeing us die?” she wondered frowning as if she was stuck on that one thought.

“No, and it was made all the more vivid because of the interface. I couldn’t escape it. Comm. feeds came right into my head and I couldn’t just turn it off.  I heard you die, I felt the ship get hit.  It wasn’t easy.”

“No wonder they said you pilots are nuts,” she sighed.

“An honor, that’s what we were told, an honor. Some honor.”

“Can you still hear the communications then?”

“Still,” he sighed. “Anything on the open channel, not the encoded stuff.  I hear it, I know where patrols are; I know what they are looking for.”

“So that’s how you did it,” Oro said softly.

“That, and trying to keep away from trouble. I didn’t see this trouble.”

“I think this is a new spot.” Oro said after a moments thought.

“Oro, I just don’t see where fighting is going to help.”

“I'm still skeptical,” she pointed out as Ian stood up.

“And so am I, but then, when you live by the skin of your teeth, it makes you a bit…paranoid.  I'm not used to having someone watching my back,” Ian pointed out and walked out of the VIP quarters leaving Oro sitting on the treadmill.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 Ian’s head was not feeling much better the next morning and he looked at the plate of scrambled eggs with a feeling of doom. Cowboy sat down and immediately started eating with gusto. Cowboy suddenly stopped when he realized that Ian hadn’t even lifted his fork. “What’s wrong?”

 Ian sighed, “I feel like a horse’s ass.”

“Why? Because the crew knows what you are?” Cowboy looked at him seriously.

“This is the first crew that everyone down to the cargo handler, knows what I am.  This wasn’t like when I was with Lyle Brockman.  There only a handful ever knew and the lie was perpetrated that I need protectin’ because I was the pilot and without me the ship couldn’t move off the bloody pad.  I had the charts in my head. Cowboy, this thing has made my life hell, and I don’t know if I like having everyone know that they have a madman at the helm.”

“But yer not mad,” Cowboy pointed out.

“Not yet.  Why do you think I never have girlfriends or anything like that?  Leave some lass with a drooling idiot and no money? No thank you.”

Cowboy sipped his coffee and set the cup down thinking of what to say.  Ian could tell he was thinking.  Smoke didn’t come out his ears, but his eyebrows pinched.  “Irish this whole ship is different. This being Indie is different.  We took a vote last night, and we all back you.  You are part of us, and we of you.  There's no going back. Whether you like it or not, and apparently you don’t.”

Ian sighed, “I donna know what to say. I feel like—a twit.”

“You are a twit, a hard headed, arrogant, little twit.” Cowboy cleared his throat, “That’s what Brock says anyway.”

“Thanks Cowboy,” Ian rolled his eyes. He had finally met someone who was as sharp witted as he was.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 Ian looked up when the bag of coins landed next to him with a merry chink.  Ian looked up at Rose and then sat up on his bed picking up the bag.

“Whot’sis?” he wondered. “Rose I said don’t pay me.”

“Back on Freehold,” she shrugged.

“Rose, how do I get it through your head  that I don’t need this? I need the ship but I don’t need this.”

“Ian, you are a mercenary. You’ll fly for anyone.”

“No you’re wrong.” He handed her back the coins.  “If I did it for money then yes, I would be a mercenary, but that’s not what I am.  I didn’t hire on with the likes of Aleksi Jannula, or Gordon Darkmoor because of what they practiced: hypocrisy.  Lyle Brockman was clean and ran a clean ship.  His son was my friend and you, of all people, should know that. He would let a tagged and chipped pilot work for him because he believed in people.  Maybe I'm having a wee bit of trouble learning that, but I am trying.”

“Were we hypocrites to do what we did on Khinan-le?” she wondered.

“Do you believe it was right for the labor union to try to strong arm us? Was it right for the U.E.F. to strong arm the union? Rose, nothing is black and white like in your ledger.  Everything is a measure of something, a wee bit of this and a wee bit of that.  Its hard to balance sometimes, but I think we can do it.”

Rose sat down on his bed. “Lyle didn’t say much about you, so when you turned up, I didn’t know what to think. I just admired your loyalty when it seemed everything was falling apart around our ears.”

“Overlinger fired you, and Brock,” Ian pointed out, “an’ he cheated me. I can't work for that. Brock was like a brother and while I'm not good at this kind of thing, it means a lot to me.  I don’t want pay for what I feel is the right thing to do.”

Rose sighed, “You know I think you’re very good at putting people on the spot with emotional conundrums.”

“Well, isn’t how we deal with things like that, the measure of what we are?” Ian shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t need money, I just need the ship and a star to steer her by.”

  End: Episode Three

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 Posted  October  1, 2007

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