The Ghost is four hours from Harrith Prime, everyone but Gabe is on the bridge. Bennie is at his station—originally an auxiliary station, but now a hackers’ hideaway, covered in a cobweb of data cables and additional displays epoxied to the hull. Zephyr is at her own station, assuming the role of second-in-command, and Maxim is at the tactical station. The large ex-Peacekeeper is beaming, which is disconcerting, to say the least.
Most of the stations on the bridge of the Ghost look similar to one other—or they had before Bennie came aboard. Tactical is the exception, with its additional displays and manual weapon control surfaces—‘the works’, as Maxim calls it.
“Now, this is what I’ve been wanting!” he exclaims, caressing his terminal. “So. Many. Weapons. The engine mounted disruptors are both at one hundred percent. The Forward section disrupter turret, also one hundred percent! The targeting computer firmware is up to date; I could target Bennie drifting out there from nearly a half million kilometers away, and hit him with a single shot!”
“Hey!” comes the screech from Bennie’s station. “Why would you say that?!”
Wil nods, smiling. It’s nice to see Maxim happy about something, but also nice to know the Ghost is in fighting shape, something she’s slipped further and further away from since Wil took over. “Missiles?” he asks.
Maxim taps a few sections of his panel. “Both missile magazines are full. I was able to score a few multi-model ones: full yield, medium, or ‘overload shields.’ Plus…” he pauses, and his grin turns a bit evil. “I got six XPX-1900s.”
Zephyr lets out a low whistle. “I don’t remember getting those.”
“Me either,” Wil chimes in. “Also, what are they?”
Maxim looks at Zephyr, then back at Wil. “Ship busters.”
“The fuck?!” Wil exclaims, leaning out of his chair. “How did you manage to score those without Zephyr or I seeing—or bankrupting us, or alerting the Peacekeepers or even just the local police?”
The large Palorian grins. “After we made our purchases, and you and Zephyr were on your way out. I asked the shopkeep for a favor. I thought I’d noticed them in the back of the shop in a corner. Selling that type of ordinance is, if it’s possible, extra illegal. He’d had them a few years and never found anyone to take them, at least for a price he was willing to take the risk for.”
“Okay. But since we hardly had any credits left, there’s no way you could’ve pay that price, whatever it was,” Wil says.
“Right, but I dropped some hints that we’d likely be quite popular, and/or wealthy, if this mission goes well. Since he’d been sitting on them so long… and given that even being caught with them, selling them or not, would land him a life sentence on a Peacekeeper labor moon... he just gave them to me.”
Bennie, who’s been listening intently, chimes in. “Maybe I have some competition for this crew’s chief negotiator?”
Wil looks at the hacker. “Who says that role is filled by you, pipsqueak?”
Bennie affects a stricken look and seems about to protest when he scrunches his face up. “What’s a pip squeak?”
In unison, Zephyr and Maxim both say: “A human thing.”
Just then, Gabe’s voice comes over the speakers. “Captain, please come to engineering.”
Wil hits a button on his chair. “On my way. Zephyr, keep us moving in the right direction—and don’t let Bennie touch my console.”
The Ghost is not a large ship; the forward section is only made up of two decks, the bridge, the staging area-cum-armory and airlocks, with a maintenance area below. The main corridor—or ‘neck’, as Wil refers to it—is nearly as long as the primary section of the ship: one deck, plus maintenance spaces above and below. It gets a bit taller as you move into the main body of the ship, where the crew space and lounge is, with engineering directly beyond. Wil walks through it all, remembering the first time he was in the lounge.
The hatch to engineering is closed when he approaches. He touches the control pad beside it, and a light turns green and the doors open.
“Gabe, what’s up? Oh. My. God.” The entire engineering space is spotless. The main engine is thrumming peacefully—the random hiccup that had plagued the drive apparently gone. The stains on the bulkhead that Wil was always afraid to ask about are also gone. The maintenance area and workbench: spotless. The heat that normally permeated the place: also gone.
“Hello, Captain. I wanted to give you a status update on the engineering space. As you can see, I’ve fixed the imbalance in the main FTL drive. I’ve also cleaned, and replaced all the burnt-out thermocouples, which has addressed the increased heat in this compartment. Several other subsystems have been repaired, or, in extreme cases, replaced.”
Wil is spinning around, taking it all in. “You’re a miracle-worker. I wonder if there’s another smaller you in that shoulder thingy.”
Gabe looks at the mysterious attachment. “I highly doubt there is a smaller copy of myself in this device.”
Wil shakes his head. “Whatever it is, good work, Gabe. It’s awesome that you’re with us—”
Before he can say anything more, Zephyr interrupts over the ship’s intercom, “Wil, you better get up here. There’s something you need to see.”
Wil turns and leaves without another word.
As the hatch to engineering closes, Gabe bows his head slightly. “Thank you, Captain.”