Lochlain summoned Naslund up to the bridge for his confession. He spoke briefly about the falling out with his old smuggling ship while omitting the fact that he had sold out the crew of On Margin. Brooke recounted how she met Lochlain and her decision to disavow CBP. The couple finished with the circumstances of their illegal “purchase” of Zanshin and the squibbing, along with the fact that there was now a bounty on the ship itself.
By the end of their story, Naslund was rubbing his chin but seemed to accept the situation. He stated he had already assumed the pair had a checkered past and even the revelation of Zanshin’s empty coffers were not terribly troubling.
Lingenfelter, on the other hand, was on her feet and ready to pounce at Lochlain. Her hands were balled fists at her side and her voice took on a bitter edge. “You’re telling me that none of this is going to count as class credit and that I actually should’ve been on the Evora all along?” She volleyed a curse toward the ceiling before mumbling in disgust, “Trans-Star is going to own me for life.”
“We were going to write you a recommendation,” Brooke offered feebly.
Her reward was a dark glare. “Would it have been on CBP stationery?” the Svean snapped back.
Truesworth, having been oddly silent during Lochlain’s speech, appraised Lingenfelter with a curious expression. “Hang on a second. So, the captain makes you lose your course tuition, basically kidnaps you, dupes you into working for free on a smuggling ship that gets boarded by a group of hitmen… and you’re upset because you won’t receive class credit from your university?” His look became pure approval as he tried very hard not to smile. “Do you know there are mercenaries with twenty years of experience that take things more personally than you?”
Lingenfelter’s hostile demeanor cracked slightly at the comment. “I don’t give a damn about the scam. I’m used to those and I certainly don’t mind cheating a corporation,” she answered dismissively. “You don’t grow up how I did without bending a few laws.” She returned her withering glare to Zanshin’s captain and tapped her chest. “What I do care about is that you’ve just handed more years of my life over to Trans-Star because they sure as hell will not refund tuition for missing Evora.”
“Elease,” Truesworth said with sincerity, “I’m growing fond of you but I honestly don’t understand how you could just submissively agree to become some corporation’s slave.”
“I didn’t have a choice!” she fired back angrily. “I had nothing. Still don’t.”
“You could work with us,” Brooke said from her chair. Lingenfelter’s pale eyes locked onto her. “No indentured contracts, no mandatory service,” Brooke promised. “Just the freedom to choose who you work with and how long you stay.”
Lochlain nodded keenly. “Elease, you’re more than welcome to stay as crew… real crew. In fact, Zanshin needs you.”
Lingenfelter chewed her lower lip as she thought the offer over. Finally she asked, “And this is the whole truth? You’re done lying to me?”
“Yes,” Lochlain answered emphatically. “I know it’s been crazy but please believe me that smugglers don’t lie to their own crew.” He looked at her solemnly. “We’re family for as long as we wish to be. No lies, no cheating and we take care of each other because nobody else in this universe sure as hell will.”
The Svean’s expression softened considerably. “I’m still not certified. How would I get past a ship inspection? Wouldn’t we get written up for it?”
“I can get you a license in Vulsia,” Lochlain promised. He cringed inwardly at the thought of the extra expense.
Lingenfelter read his mind. “I have practically no credits to pay for that.”
“You won’t have to,” Brooke told her in a warm tone. “We owe you that much. After today, we practically are family.”
Lingenfelter looked to Truesworth as if for a second opinion.
The rogue swept back his hair and let a grin take hold of him. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t think of you as a sister.”
She blushed instantly but could not resist a return smile. The larger consequences of her decision began to settle on her. “I wouldn’t have to work twenty years for Trans-Star…” She shook her head. “If they catch me fleeing indentured status, I’ll be ‘serving’ a lot longer than twenty years.”
Lochlain dipped a shoulder in concession. “We all will be but we’re not staying near the CCZ.” He traded glances with his crew. “There’s too much heat in this sector for all of us. Hell, apparently even Zanshin is wanted.”
“Jack’s not wanted,” Brooke quibbled.
“Maybe not in the CCZ,” Truesworth agreed, “but let’s just say I won’t be joining you inside the Republic.”
“Definitely not the Republic,” Lochlain said quickly. “Maybe the central systems or the disputed zone. Perhaps even the LMA.”
Truesworth’s eyes bulged at the mention of the last corporate sector.
Naslund looked almost overjoyed. “Dad would never find me in any of those places.”
“That’s so far away,” Lingenfelter whispered to herself.
“It’s not that far,” Truesworth commented.
“You’ve been all the way to the LMA?” she asked skeptically.
“As a privateer?” Brooke guessed.
A sobering look took hold of Truesworth. “Yeah…”
Lochlain had seen similar looks many times in his life and knew when not to press. Instead, he walked to the center of the bridge and said, “Wherever we end up, it’ll be far enough away that our pasts can’t find us. I may not be able to offer you immediate riches but I can promise you that you’ll be the captain of your own life.” He looked to each of his new crew and swore, “No government, no corporation and no father will ever dictate your course to you. You’ll share in the decision process here just as you’ll share the risks and, eventually, you’ll share in the fortune Zanshin brings us.”
Naslund beamed widely. “This is exactly what I signed up for! Even the gunfight was exciting… well, after we won.”
Lingenfelter began to feel a lifetime of servitude lifting off her shoulders. “I’m in,” she said with a brilliant smile. “This is better than what’s waiting for me in Svea.”
Truesworth simply spun back to face his sensor panel. “Hey, you had me at ‘high card.’”
Lochlain clapped his hands together. “Let’s go to Vulsia.”
Ten minutes later, Zanshin received clearance to amend her sailplan and head directly for the Vulsia tunnel point. After coming about, she would need over five hours to reach her destination. Once the freighter settled onto her new course, Lochlain insisted that Brooke retire to their quarters to rest. He guided her gently down the steps and tucked her into the bed. During their slow walk down the stairs, Brooke remained steadfast about being in Engineering when it was time to dive the ship. Lochlain wisely saved his verbal bullets for different battles.
After seeing Brooke to bed, Lochlain climbed the stairs but stopped on the main deck. He looked down the corridor and groaned. The forward spine was still a horror show. With a sigh of resignation, he plodded toward the three bodies littering the narrow hall.
He could not help but stare at the gruesome spectacle. Horribly curled fingers turned their hands into claws. Each dead man’s eyes were wide open. Lochlain hesitated. He had never touched a dead body before and now he was going to have to drag three of them nearly twenty meters. He grabbed the first by the feet and began to tug at the dead weight. A noise of disgust escaped his lips as the man’s right arm rotated grotesquely and the submachine gun still slung at the shoulder became wedged underneath. The scrapping sound of the metal on the deck marked every meter of Lochlain’s progress.
Twenty minutes later, the bodies rested on the lift inside the forward hold. Despite his reluctance to touch them further, Lochlain searched each one before placing them in a neat row, their legs together and their hands over their chests. He closed the hold’s portal and locked out the compartment. In a fit of inspiration, he then removed the hold’s atmosphere and turned off the environmental controls.
The grim task completed, Lochlain looked over what he had collected from the men. The submachine guns seemed like fine weapons. Between the magazines in the guns and the extras taken from the corpses, Zanshin had gained a respectable armory. Of course, Lochlain knew that possession of firearms by a non-Federation citizen was a violation of Solarian law. He would need to find an obscure hiding place in case his ship was inspected. In the meantime, he returned to his quarters and deposited the collection at the bottom of his closet. Brooke was snoring softly from the bed and he smiled at the sleeping woman. She had been his lioness less than an hour ago, fending off three heavily armed professionals in spite of her injuries. He shivered at the memory of the remorseful look in her eyes when she was prepared for a suicidal dash to the spine’s portal controls. Even facing certain death, her primary concern had not been her own life but his. A wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered his uncertainty about her loyalties. “I’m sorry, Mercer,” he whispered from the doorway. “I’ll never doubt you again.”
After another moment’s reflection, he stepped away from the bedroom’s portal and left the quarters. He still had dozens of shell casings to collect and a medical bay to clean.
* * *
“Everything’s in the green, for now.” Naslund’s voice was equal parts confidence and doubt as it carried over the bridge’s speakers.
“Just keep monitoring things,” Truesworth advised him over the comm channel. “You’re doing great. Remember, you don’t have to fix any problem, just recognize it.”
“Yes, sir!” Naslund replied heartily. “And thanks for checking on me!”
Truesworth smiled as he closed the channel. The kid’s unflagging enthusiasm reminded him of nearly every ensign he had ever encountered… himself included.
“Do I sound that… eager?” Lingenfelter asked from the helm. “I guess Casper and I are making a bigger deal of this than it really is. It’s just that I’ve spent so many years of my life training to pilot a starship and I’ve dreamed of doing it for even longer.” A slim shoulder dipped. “I guess it’s silly.”
“It’s not silly, Elease. It’s incredible and if working on a starship, even a freighter, doesn’t get your blood pumping then you probably need to get checked out by the auto-doc.”
She swiveled in her chair to appraise him. “But you and the captain are so cool about it all. Like it’s normal.” She glanced between the sensor console and the captain’s panel that Truesworth sat behind now. “You just switch stations like it’s no big deal.”
“It’s just experience. We all have a past, Elease.” Truesworth’s smile faded. “The truth is, the closer you get to the captain’s seat, the less useful you become.”
Lingenfelter saw a torrent of emotion ripple behind his eyes before he continued.
“I worked so hard to command a ship when I was in The Iron Brigade but now I understand that, more than anything, I was just running away from sensors.” He swallowed. “The longer I sat in a captain’s chair, the more I realized my heart was still in another.” His voice choked slightly. “I should never have left.”
Lingenfelter stared at the man. The hidden, deeper meaning behind his story was lost on her but her heart went out to him regardless. He was undeniably handsome and carried an air of self-possession that somehow made him even more appealing. She smiled warmly at him and said, “Well, I’m very glad you’ll be in that chair, next to me.” She gestured to the empty station.
Before Truesworth could respond, the bridge portal opened with a hydraulic hiss to reveal Lochlain. He stood and offered, “Your bridge, Captain. Engineering reports green and we’re five-by-five up here.”
“Thanks, Jack. How’s the tunnel point look?”
Truesworth answered without a glance back at the console. “A couple ‘vettes orbiting there. I assume that’s what you meant.”
Lochlain sat and exhaled wearily. “It’s been a hell of a day. A ship inspection would really cap it off.”
Truesworth grimaced. “Well, by changing course and sailing a non-standard route to the tunnel point, we’re kind of begging to be singled out.”
Lochlain’s head dropped to his chest. “Yeah, I know. It’s just that when Casper’s dad starts searching for him, I’d rather the filed trail lead to Crucis. Zanshin’s crew roster is out-of-date too.”
“That’ll be the first thing he’ll check,” the sensorman said in understanding.
“Well,” Lingenfelter offered as Truesworth settled at the console next to hers, “at least there’s always something to worry about.”
Lochlain chuckled. “It’s not normally this bad, Elease. We’re just sailing with limited resources and no safety net right now. Once we’re established, it’ll be better, but this is a large part of a smuggler’s life, dealing with what you’ve got. Probably a lot like growing up in your commorancy.”
“You were an orphan?” Truesworth asked.
She gave him a twisted grin. “We all have a past, Jack.”
They sailed the next four hours in peace. When Zanshin approached to within 10lm of the Vulsia tunnel point, Lochlain left the bridge to wake Brooke. She took a sonic shower and, with Lochlain’s help, began the long, torturous journey to Engineering. Her shoulder had stiffened considerably during her rest yet she was still an hour away from her next allotment of pain tablets.
Naslund practically sprinted up the stairs to Brooke’s side as they entered the catwalk. He provided an overly detailed report of the ship’s systems while he assisted her down the stairwell to the main console. Lochlain continued to hover but eventually left after her repeated assurance the pain was manageable and that she would call the bridge for an escort back to their quarters after the dive. With a quick peck on Brooke’s cheek, he trotted down the aft spine and returned to the bridge, only to find potential disaster on the wall screen.
Lochlain inspected the navigation plot with a practitioner’s eye. There was no sense in denying it. “Yup,” he agreed. “It’s definitely heading for us.” He brought up the specifications for the inbound system defense ship.
Her beacon identified her as Fast Ship-422, SFS Stampede. Standata showed that she was a Tori-class corvette in service for thirty-seven years. Equipped with a meager trio of dual general-purpose lasers, she was nonetheless more than a match for a mere freighter. Her intercept course made it abundantly clear that Zanshin should expect visitors.
“Are they really going to board us and check our licenses and cargo?” Lingenfelter asked nervously. “Shortest smuggling career ever.”
Lochlain’s mind raced and his thoughts turned to the bodies in his forward hold and the submachine guns in his closet. Ironically, he knew that Isett’s sealed, certified cargo would stand up to inspection unless the authorities went for a spacewalk and physically cracked open the container. “There are a lot of different types of inspections,” Lochlain soothed. “The question is, how do we encourage the one we want?” He let the query hang in the air as he played through different scenarios in his head. After a full minute of deliberation, he stated, “Here’s what we do...”