RAFians, you are looking at the rough draft version of chapter one, of what will become my first ever PUBLISHED NOVEL!
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Independent
A Seaportian Chronicle
Chapter One
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“
You’re crazy, am I right guys? Isn’t this dumb dashda crazy?” Of all the loud, annoying sounds melding through the bar, that one was certainly the worst. Sighing, I rolled my eyes and swiveled on my seat, turning away from the voice. I wanted to write him off as drunk and not knowing what he was talking about, but I couldn’t because he was not drunk, and because he was just maybe a little bit right.
From behind me a loud roar of drunken agreement rose up in support of the speaker. Trying not to pay it any heed, I lifted my mug to take a drink. An arm snaked out from over my shoulder and pulled mine down. “You aren’t actually going to do this, are you? I mean, you can’t be that stupid, right?” I sighed and set my drink down on the counter before swiveling around.
“Listen, there’s really good money in this! Ten times, no, twenty times what I could ever get working for InterGo and you know it.” Capsen raised a bushy pair of eyebrows and laughed.
“You’ll need the money to pay off someone to recover your body! I’ve told you, the survival rate is something like five to one, and even if you do get back in one piece you still have to deal with InterGo. They don’t like employee’s bailing on them you know, you’re already on their bad side. And now you want to take off with their ship to Casanaly for a weapons trade? I think you’ve had a drop too much to drink!” I sighed in irritation.
“I’m not going to tell them that of course, I’m not an idiot. I’ll just say I’m heading to the Ralamir system on neutral trading matters and that I’ll finish off my last installment when I get back.” Capsen snorted at this.
“Sure, they’ll just think you’re off to sell Calami spice over to the Deer-Men. Ever since Ecolypsa started there are only two things anyone sells over there, troops or guns. Daje, even before that, weapons were the only real profitable trade over there.”
I looked away, he had a good point. Several good points actually, but I wasn’t deterred, not yet. I shook my head firmly.
“No, I’m getting there somehow. The payoff is too great, and after I make the first run-
“If you survive the first run.”
“After I survive the first run I will have enough money for deflectors. Maybe, no definitely some guards.” Capsen cast a gaze at me like I was a lost cause, looking almost sorrowfully at me. He turned to take a drink and his mug was halfway to his mouth when he froze, and then turned to me.
“What exactly are you trying to sell there anyway?” I grinned and rolled my eyes across the ceiling.
“Well, I’ve got some contacts in certain places who’ve managed to get a hold of some very potent merchandise for me.” Capsen seemed to sense something bad and began to get an uncomfortable look in his eyes.
“Which would be?”
“Two crates of second-hand Ailon handhelds.” His eyes nearly shot out his skull; he grabbed me roughly by my collar and pulled my head to the counter just inches from his own and hissed in my ear,
“What?” He almost sounded hysterical. “Are you trying to get yourself arrested? Do you have any idea what the regulations on selling military grade energy weapons to aliens are? They- they- they’ll strip your trader’s license and put you in the freezer for a century!” I just shrugged and tried to squirm out of his grip to no avail.
“They’re all second hand, at least eighty years old, way out of date. Nothing the Casanalans don’t already have.”
“Try explaining that to the Navy, they might not share your views.” I jerked and twisted my head out of his grasp and sat back up, rubbing where he’d grabbed me. He had a pretty good point, if any System Patrol ships decided to stop me for a random inspection, or decided to board me for any reason; they would not be very pleased. I would be lucky if I only got fifty years in the freezer, frozen cryogenically in jail. Some of the more extreme systems were only all-too happy to atomize any ship smuggling illegal contraband.
“SP has no reason to try and stop me, I’m a decent trader with a clean record.”
“Of course, you’re just going to Casanaly for a social call right?” I sighed; Capsen was quite persistent when he wanted to be, and when he had good reason to be, which he did. And even if I managed to plan my way around these various obstacles, I had to deal with the ones at hand first. “Besides, how are you going to get your ship out of the dry docks? You still owe InterGo one more installment, a pricey one too. They are none too keen to let you go get yourself killed in an alien system before you can pay up, in addition to the fact that they want none of their fingerprints on that dirty little war. ”
Right, InterGo stayed as far away from armed conflict as they could. I understood their logic, don’t take sides and you lose no customers. Of course this was a tremendous waste of potential money in my opinion; hundreds of millions of stars could be earned in weapons trade.
And of course when the war of Ecolypsa started on Casanaly, well then every single trader outside of InterGo’s grip swarmed over there to sell weapons, which all the battling factions bought for incredible prices as the war progressed.
That’s when they met the Rashmi, big bug-like things that were on the weirdest race’s we’ve ever known along with being in charge of one of the largest trade empires in the galactic south. They were already intent on selling weapons and soldiers, which they had abducted from various planets, to all the Casanalan factions, and they did not like competition.
So when the mortality rate among independent traders shot up seventy percent, the Seaportian Confederation decided to send a task force over there to help deal with the Rashmi. This was like trying to put out a fire with gasoline.
The planet’s factions went wild, the Rashmi were their biggest source for soldiers, and in a war where the life expectancy on the frontlines was something like five days, soldiers were worth their weight in gold.
So then of course the Casanalans began attacking the task force, which naturally resulted in the task force attacking the Casanalans. However, to preserve their planets beauty, the Casanalans restricted their fighting to a few certain areas on the planet. The task force obviously wanted to disregard the rules and just steam roll over all pockets of resistance.
That did not sit well with the Ticki-Tickalie, one of the resident super races. Showing no desire to see one of their favorite planets and hunting reserves incinerated, they sent their Intervention Army to explain this displeasure to the Seaportians by reducing three quarters of the task force to interstellar dust.
Having no wish at all to get anyway involved with the single most powerful race in the known universe, the Seaportians decided to leave the system and never get involved in Casanalan affairs again, leaving the door open for me and any other fools to go to the Ralamir system.
Which was what I planned to do, provided I could get into my ship and take off. However, since I still owed money to InterGo for it, I probably wasn’t going anywhere like Casanaly anytime soon. It was common knowledge that there were a great many captains in the Seaportian Navy whose pockets had been lined by InterGo, and they would gladly help them with something as simple as detaining me.
He sank my forehead into my palms and sighed, what could I do? Capsen could see what was coursing through my mind, and he grinned in triumph. “I take it you didn’t think this through all the way.” And to be honest, I hadn’t. Being an independent pilot has evolved an independent streak in me, this was part of the reason I had left InterGo. Too many schedules, lists, rules, and plus I had give away thirty percent of my earnings.
“No, no I have not.” I raised my mug for a draught only to find it empty. I tapped thrice on the countertop, prompting a small panel to slide open and expel a sleek little robotic arm which spread the tongs attached to it. “Refill, please.” I watched as it slid back into the counter and as my mug reappeared out five seconds later.
I took it and drank some of spicy ale that burned down the throat like fire. Then I took another one, hoping my problems might just go away. Capsen was still looking at me smugly when his phone rang, prompting a glance at the little holographic screen which popped out of the little band around his wrist. Whatever it was, it seemed important, he spun around in his seat and slid off as he pulled his coat on.
“Well good luck committing suicide, I gotta go.”
“What for?”
“Captain wants me there early to run a few more tests on the new TL autopilot before we leave.” This caught me off guard, I frowned.
“Leave? Where for?”
“Didn’t I tell you? We’ve got a shipment of medical supplies to deliver to an interstellar freighter, apparently one of the med school grad students accidently forgot to check one of the refrigeration units, and anyway their entire load of MedGel’s shot along with some other stuff. We’re heading out in a few hours since we’re the closest ship that’s not already busy.”
I nodded; MedGel is one of the Confederations biggest advances in medicine, basically synthetic flesh and tissue to go.
“Well have a good flight, I hear the new TL pilots can be a real pain sometimes when you put them in an older ship, I heard one of them actually lost power during a jump and came out too early, ripped the main engines right off and played hell with the life support. By the time rescue ships got there, half the crew was dead.” His eyes deadened as he turned to leave.
“Well thanks for the comfort, I’ll be sure to remember that every waking second and now if you’ll excuse me, I have a ride to catch.” With that he was out the door and gone, one less face from the noisy bar. With him gone, I turned back to staring at my mug, occasionally swirling around the liquid inside. What would I do now?
I finished my drink and payed my tab. As I walked into the cool night air, I noticed the lack of activity at the spaceport, a collection of tall towers and wide platforms a mile to the east. Usually you could see ships taking off and landing, offloading cargo, or getting repairs. Civilian liners, trader vessels, independent pilots, even military craft. Ardelin is one of the Seaportian Confederation’s most prominent colonies, and there’s rarely a lack of activity.
Well, at least the streets are full as usual. Thirty feet off the ground, the air tubes are busy as ever funneling pods of people all over the city. Below them and all around me people traveled in throngs, going in and out of the various shops, bars, clubs, and other buildings which crowded the walkways.
Life went on as usual for millions of people. For most of them life was a breeze, loaded with the luxuries of modern technology. The Confederation was at a golden age economically. Prices were ludicrously low, payments were abnormally high, and everything was for sale. A few hundred stars for a pack of Infinity to expand your life fifty years. A thousand stars and you could slow down aging to a bare crawl. Didn’t like a certain part of your body? Head on over to the local autodoc and pay it away. Money was everywhere now, everyone had it.
So did I of course, but it would only last so long, I needed to get back in the game again. I’d been out of InterGo for about a month now, and there weren’t exactly trade offers coming my way. That was part of InterGo’s plot to keep pilots and traders, if you quit on them they refused to give you your record, so I couldn’t assure potential customers with a great service record.
It was starting to rain, wonderful. I pulled my hood over my head and hurried my way through the crowded walkways to the tube station, trying to wade through the masses as best I could. Still, it was slow going and the rain steadily increased, I was quite soaked by the time I reached the crowded squat little station.
I got in a line and waited for a terminal. My turn arrived, I selected my destination and inserted my purchase card. The computer hummed for a moment, then beeped in confirmation and spat out my card which tucked away before stepping out the line and heading for the stairs, weaving through a dozen other lines waiting for terminals.
I climbed the stairs and took a seat on the boarding platform, just under the awing and out of the rain. I didn’t have to wait long though; a pod came along in a few minutes and popped open the doors.
“Now boarding for Sector C Temporary Residential District.” The speakers blared; I got up with the rest of the people and crowed my way for the doors. I took a seat near the back and relaxed, the smooth creamy white of the pod interior was a nice change from the blazing lights and loud noises of the streets below.
Not many people were boarding, perhaps twenty or so. The door hissed shut once again and the speakers dinged to let us now we were on our way. Without a sound the pod shot forward at two hundred miles an hour, though of course with the compensators on we didn’t feel a thing.
As we arced around the spaceport, I found myself looking out at the towering structures remorsefully. Capsen was right, a pretty stupid and crazy idea. Just another one of my usual heat of the moment things, spontaneous and never thought out well. He’d probably be teasing me about this one for weeks, even months.
I guess I’d have to go back to InterGo. They wouldn’t be very keen on taking me back; they have a general policy that offers very little second chances. But still, with the right amount of groveling and begging, maybe I could manage it.
Independent trading, hah! Where’d you get that one from? I mentally berated myself; I should have known a lot better than try to make a name on my own in a market already owned by giants.
We zoomed past the spaceport, heading south to a portion of the city set aside for offworlders.
“I can’t wait until I get off this daje world, freezing place.” I turned my head; two seats away from me sat a particularly grouchy looking man. Heavyset and squat, he was wrapped in layers of clothing despite it being not very chill outside.
I shrugged and looked ahead at the seat in front of me. He was an offworlder just like me, and he probably came from a planet with a warmer sun. The speakers beeped, announcing we were about to arrive.
The pod quickly slowed down before coming to a dead stop right next to the station. The door hissed open and the passengers surged out alongside me. I hurried my way through the crowd and got out of the rain, stepping through the sliding door into the building.
The inside was a cheery site; the lobby was filled with soft flickering lights from the holo’s mounted on the walls. People lounged around in couches, watching the holo’s, taking naps, or having a drink at the bar.
I ignored them all and beelined for the lift at the end of the lobby. I called for a lift, the door opened and I stepped in and selected my floor. The doors slid shut and I flew up. The doors dinged and slid open.
I was tired now, I had been considering reading a book or watching the holo, but now I just wanted to go to bed. 40091, I arrived at my room and punched in my card, opening the door, and walked in.
The lights snapped on, too bright. I lowered the brightness and shut the door before heading off to my bed. I flopped down on it, by now quite exhausted. The room lights dimmed some more as I began to drift off to sleep.
A soft but very notable ringing sounded through my room, rudely waking me. I sat up disorientated as the bell rung again.
“Of all the times, daje salesmen.” I cursed tiredly as I flung myself out of bed and lurched towards the door. I stopped just to put a presentable face on; at least I still had my clothes on. I quickly ran some fingers through my hair and opened the door just as it rang again.
Short, lithe, and red headed. By the looks of him he was probably from Reinser, or some other low-gravity colony. He was human at least, that was good. I was in no mood for alien visitors right now; actually I was in no mood for nay visitor’s period. But here he was, may as well put a good face on it.
“Ar- Are you Captain Fitch?” Chail Fitch, that’s me. Not many people call me captain though. I nod tiredly, what did he want?
“Yes, and you are?”
“Oh of course, my name is Dayson Jireme, and I’m here on account of the Guild of Independent Traders.” Ah, so the Indies were out from under their rock again. “Anyway, we have heard about your falling out with Intergalactic Cargo and after thinking it over, we may have a job offer for you if you’re interested. I gave him a simple smile,
“I dunno, last I heard of it InterGo had really given you a thrashing.” That was an understatement in the least. The Guild of Independent Traders had been set up by a few rich independent traders as a way to help independents everywhere. It was a pretty nice idea actually, you sign on with them and you get to trade wherever you like with whoever you like, no restrictions.
The only catch was you had to donate twenty five percent of your earnings to a big stockpile. This in turn is used to benefit all the members by paying for things like ship repairs, upgrades, medical care, and even biological augmentations. It was a dream employer, and was wildly successful.
Too successful, it started to steal the market away from InterGo. So, InterGo caused their complete and total utter downfall. Indie ships began to have a string of misfortune, some were attacked by pirates, and some had drive failures and came out of Other Space right in the middle of a star. Pilots and traders had ‘accidents’, poisoned on alien worlds, getting killed in bar fights, reactor failures radiated them to death.
It all ended when the heads of Indie got wiped out in a freak accident when their vessel lost engine power and cratered into the side of a mountain at terminal velocity. Of course InterGo was cleared of any charges; everyone knew that InterGo greased the Justice Department’s pockets on a regular basis. Plus of course that fact that in InterGo was actually convicted of all its punishments it would cause massive damage to the Seaportian economy.
This had all been twenty years ago though, Indie had been dead for twenty years. And now, it appeared to be making a comeback. Interesting.
“The issues with Intergalactic Cargo were a temporary setback. In the last year we’ve improved dramatically to help assure no such inconveniences fall on us ever again.”
“I see, and you want me because, why?”
“Due to your exceptional skills in piloting and trading, and because we are trying to show that we are welcoming all independent fliers with open arms.” Hah! They were just desperate to get back into the game; I recalled seeing a few other guys talking to all the independents back the bar. But regardless of their motive, this was a good offer, and I was definitely interested. I’d get to keep flying and trading and-
I froze as the realization hit me like a load of bricks. Without any hesitation I blurted out,
“I’ll do it!” This must have surprised Dayson, his eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. Apparently he didn’t have much success. But surprised as he was, he wasn’t stupid enough to hesitate; he whipped out a form and a pen in a flash.
“Sign here and you will be part of the Independent Traders Guild.” I didn’t hesitate either, I scribbled my initials onto the piece of paper just like that. He tucked the form away somewhere in his jacket and shook my hand warmly. “Thank you Captain, you have just made the right choice. Are there any questions you want to ask?” Definitely.
“When may I start?”
“I’ll send your form to my superiors tonight; you can start tomorrow morning if you want.”
“And I have permission to go to any system to conduct trading?”
“Absolutely, you will have the official authorization of the Independent Traders Guild.” He gave me a knowing smirk. “Just don’t go off starting any wars.” I returned the smile and bid him a good night. We shook hands once more, and then he was gone.
I was exhilarated; I’d never get to sleep with the excitement coursing through my system. I grabbed a pair of small white pills from the kitchen and popped them in my mouth, washing them down with a glass of water. Then I dove into my bed just as the drugs took affect.
I had good reason to need sleep tonight; I’d have a busy day tomorrow. Because tomorrow, I’d be going to Casanaly.
