Black Dawn (14 page)

All other BlackFleet duties came to a temporary halt. All personnel took their turn working to make the
Rook
habitable. And slowly, the ship began to take shape.

Further remodeling was undertaken as well, when Coy discovered the ship had no gym or weapons range. Bon held his tongue and
rolled up his sleeves, hoping devoutly that his CO wouldn’t suddenly
desire a swimming pool.

At their next layover opportunity, Bon and Schiff both performed their new duties and presented the BlackFleet with more capable hands. The former
Blackbird
technical crew, plus some additions,
moved over to the
Rook.
Drake began his training to command the
Blackbird
.

The fleet was growing almost daily. And so were Coy Lamont’s self doubts. This was ridiculous, it told itself, it was a soldier
and an officer. Commanding 60 people was still not like running most
single ships. It had to buckle down and get over the dread it felt every
time it looked at the crew list.
So it stopped looking. Coy turned over even more of the administrative jobs to Asch and buried itself in whatever other duties it
could find.

At the next senior staff meeting Coy sat and watched from its
chair, absently tapping its fingers on the armrests, as the rest of the
command staff entered the room and found their places. Due to the
white color-coded rank pins, these weekly meetings had come to be
dubbed the “White Meeting.” As they settled into seats, the vidcom
units embedded in the conference table came on. One by one their expectant expressions turned to curious frowns at the lack of information.
They were used to the screen containing agenda, notes, reports and the
usual Fleet business.

“
Ah,” Butler began, “either mine’s busted or we don’t have
anything to talk about today.”
A few smiled at his typical humor. Others were more concerned about what the absence meant. No news could always be worse
than bad news.
Coy quieted its fingers and leaned forward.
“There is no information there yet because you all are going to help me put it there.”
It got up and began to walk around the long, beautiful table and the
people seated at it. Chairs and heads turned to follow its progress.
“We have two mysteries, at least two main mysteries that we need to
solve.
“What or who is the force behind all the violence going on in
the shipping routes. Unfortunately, we don’t seem to have any new
data on our Boogeyman. Which leaves Mystery number 2 - Where did
the
Raven
come from and why do we have it?”
That one caught most by surprise.
“Excuse me,” Drake said, “Are you saying that you don’t
know where you got this ship?”
“What I know is that I won it in a card game.” There was a
muffled laugh or two until it dawned on everyone that Lamont was
serious. “A card game that looks more and more like it was rigged the
more I think back on it. The man I was playing against went to a lot of
trouble to get me into the game, keep me in the game and, I believe, let
me win. At the time I was like most of you when you came to the
BlackFleet; life shot to hell, nowhere to go and not a soul in the universe who cared whether I was breathing air or vacuum. I didn’t spend
very much time investigating the facts. It seemed so astonishing to be
suddenly in possession of something I could use to rebuild my life. I
took the ownership documents and information at face value.”
“They looked good to me,” Bon put in. “Besides if we hadn’t
believed everything was on the up and up, we never would’ve started
all of this.”
Coy appreciated the engineer’s use of “we”, as if he could
take some of the responsibility for the Fleet onto his own shoulders. It
was true that if it hadn’t been for Bon’s timely support the BlackFleet
would never have gotten off the ground. Coy would be forever grateful for that support and eventually, dare it admit it, friendship.
“True. But while it may have been to our benefit to ignore reality at the time, it isn’t any more.” Lamont continued around and
back to its own seat and screen. What it put into its console would
come up on everyone’s. “Let’s look at the question of why anyone
would get rid of this ship.”
“They were scared,” Hendricks said immediately.
Coy made a note. “Of what?”
“What was this person like? The one in the card game,” Rebel
asked.
“Overweight, over dressed, talked loudly and demeaningly to
everyone around him. Seemed used to getting his own way. Unfortunately that’s all I know except the name on the transfer documents,
which is probably false.”
“That doesn’t sound like a captain. Was he the owner?” Butler
asked.
“So he said.”
“But why would he give away his own possession? It makes
more sense for someone like that to give away someone else’s stuff,”
Rebel commented.
Coy looked thoughtful. “Not owner or captain? But scared.”
“Wait a minute,” Ceal Byars put in, “maybe this is a stupid
question, but wouldn’t Hoffman know all of this?”
Lamont sighed. “That would’ve made life a whole lot simpler,
yes. However, it seems he had been hired only days before I took
over. He barely knew the guy, but was paid well enough that he didn’t
care to ask questions. Even he didn’t know if this Mr. Hessemen was
the owner or merely a representative of the owner. He did seem to
command the ship at least for those couple of days. Although even
Hoffman was not impressed with his command style.”
“That’s right,” Bon said. “I think the only positive comment he
made in those first days was at least Lamont didn’t act like it was right
out of a bad adventure vid.”
“What happened to the old pilot?” Drake asked. “Could you
track him down through the Guild?”
“Hoffman got the impression he was dead.”
Everyone paused in thought at that.
“Okay,” Butler said, “ You think maybe someone killed the
pilot and this Hessemen ditched the ship to cover his disappearance
because he was scared he would be next?”
Rebel whistled. What in the universe could he and the pilot
know?”
“The real owner?” Drake guessed.
So far everyone’s reasoning was following Coy’s own private
surmising. “I had Vennefron put the word out in our network to see
just where the
Raven
had been the past year.”
“And...?” Butler turned to the Intelligence officer.
“No where,” Venn answered. “No one anywhere had ever
seen it before we started using it.”
“That’s crazy,” Hendricks said, “Somebody would have had to
notice a ship like this. It’s not exactly a common design. Where would
it have been hiding?”
“Good question,” Coy said. “Where could you hide a ship like
this?”
“You would have to stay out of systems,” Bon put in. “Use
shuttles to haul passengers back and forth.”
“The
BlackBird
,” Drake and Rebel said almost together.
“But still someone, somewhere would have seen it,” Butler
frowned. “Refueling stations, maintenance bays, someone.”
Vennefron shook his head. “That’s where I checked first. Of
course, there’s a lot of turnover in places like that. Temporary workers,
industrial accidents, all sorts of reasons. But there aren’t any records of
a ship like the
Raven
docking for fuel or repairs. The only docking
record I
found was for Alluria Station and that’s where the Skipper met up with
her.”
“Industrial accidents?” Hendricks raised her brows.
“How
many ‘industrial accidents’?”
Venn frowned at his information. “I don’t have a number.
Why?”
“It just seems an easy way to keep people from reporting that
they saw something.”
Coy hadn’t thought about that. “Is there any way to find out if
there were periods of a large turnover? If it silenced a whole bay of
workers every time it docked…”
“We could trace its path by the disappearances,” Vennefron
finished and made himself a note. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“If that’s true it means we could
hypothetically
have a dead
pilot, a scared captain
and
missing refueling techs?” Hendricks continued. “Commodore, I don’t think we want to know who this owner
was
.”
“No, but he probably wants to know who we are,” Coy reasoned,
“ Which is the reason for all of this. He probably would like
his nice ship back and I would like to be prepared for when he gets
here.
We
aren’t hiding from anyone, after all. He could show up anytime.”
“So why hasn’t he?” Drake asked. “Is he too busy killing
someone else?”
“Nasty thought,” Rebel mumbled.
Bon had been quietly scanning through some of his own records and notes. Suddenly he looked up. “C-space!”
Butler stared at him. “Good answer, Raeph,” he said sarcastically. “What was the question?”
“That’s where you could hide a ship this size and pretty much
guarantee no one ever seeing you.” He pointed to his own screen. “A
while back, Masters was doing some routine study of the systems and
he keeps trying to tell me that we had too much shielding. He said
it was
using way too much power to run and that the only reason anyone
would need that much radiation shielding is if they lived in compressed
space for years at a time.” He looked a little sheepish. “I hardly listened at the time. You know Bruce. He always has to know more than
anyone else about everything. I thought he was just trying to impress
me again. Sorry.”
Coy shook its head at the apology. “We have the clue now, and
now is when we can use it.”
“Terrific. So unless Vennefron’s disappearing dock workers
leave a trail, we can’t track the
Raven’s
movements. What about the
Blackbird’s?
” Drake asked.
“We’re trying,” Vennefron said. “But it’s a much more ordinary design. A yacht picking up a handful of passengers is not that
unusual. There are hundreds of dockings.
Thousands
. And if they used phony names and designation codes, I
don’t know any way to track it.”
“What about shield frequency?” Bon asked. “If the ‘
Bird
was
in C-space almost as much as the
Raven
the shielding would have to be
similar.”
“Do docking stations check your shielding?” Byars asked, surprised.
“It’s in the numbers,” Schiff spoke for the first time. “It would
be picked up by a routine identification scan, but no one would think to
look at it unless they had reason to.”
“Alright, what do we have so far,” Lamont looked over the
notes it had been making. “The
Raven
was owned by someone who
lived in C-space and possibly killed people as important and expensive
as Jump Pilots in order to remain anonymous. What kind of clientele
would use a cruise ship run like that?”
“People who wanted to remain just as anonymous.”
“Criminals?”
“At the very least people with a lot to hide from the folks at
home.”
“A flying Bad Boys Club?”
“ A whole ship full of people like that? Just think of the nasty
things they could come up with.”
“They could plan major trouble.”
“Or a lot of little ones,” Coy said quietly.
The room became silent.
“The Boogeyman,” Butler said without a single trace of his
usual flippancy.
“And what do we do with this information?” Ceal asked.
“How does it help us?”
“At the least, we might be looking to solve one problem instead of two,” Lamont told her. It gave a small sigh. “I know that
doesn’t get us any further in finding him. But we’re still gathering
clues. I have a feeling we’ll know more soon.”
“One way or another,” Hendricks added ominously.
“Anyone have any other brainstorms?” Lamont asked and
looked around the table at each officer.
“Can we go back to the card game?” Rebel asked. “It seems if
anyone wanted to hide from someone so bad that he would give up
something like the
Raven,
why would he sit down at a card game in a
room full of people?”
“Very good question,” Coy nodded approval. “So whom was I
playing against?”
They all pondered that for a second.
“Someone from a bad adventure vid.” Schiff said.
“An actor?” Butler sounded unconvinced. “This is getting a
little complicated.”
“The whole thing is complicated,” Byars sighed. “Give me a
nice simple wound to put back together. I’m no good at being a detective.”
“Think of it as an epidemic,” Bon told her. “All we’re trying
to do is trace it back to the beginning.”
“So maybe that’s where we should go. Back to the beginning,”
Coy said.
“I hate to ask,” Ken began, “but do you mean literally or figuratively?”
“I mean, as soon as the
Rook
is up to par we head to Alluria.”
“On a trail a year old. Looking for a man you don’t even know
the real name of.” Butler looked at Coy . “That seems a little crazy.
Even for us.”
“Pick your insanity,” Coy answered the look. “Doing this
again and again,” it indicated their notes, “or going on a wild goose
hunt?”
Butler looked at it quizzically for a moment. “Just tell me one
thing,” he said seriously. “Where do you come up with these sayings?”

Long after the meeting was over, Lamont sat in the conference
room staring at the comscreen. “Who are you?” it whispered to the
notes displayed there. “Where are you? And…” it sighed wearily,
“why me?”

Coy walked into the bar on Alluria Station with a mixture of
emotions and thoughts. It looked around at the dirty walls, dusty vending machines and sparsely occupied tables. Nothing had changed. Coy
glanced over at the man behind the bar. No, not even the bartender.

That was a bit of a surprise. Coy would have thought that in a
place like this the spot would have a high turnover of drifter employees.

“
So this is where it all began,” Butler murmured at Coy’s side.
“Reeking of potential, isn’t it?”
“Potential is often hidden under a layer or two of dirt and disappointments,” Coy murmured back, thinking of a certain rumpled
young man who had turned up on its doorstep a year ago.
Ken obviously made the connection as well and grinned a little
sheepishly.
On Coy’s other side, Raeph Bon was also peering around the
room. “I really never thought we’d be back here. Seems a lifetime ago,
doesn’t it, Skipper?”
“That indeed was another life,” Coy had to agree.
The bartender was eyeing the group of uniforms standing in
the doorway with a frown. “Something I can do for you?” he asked
gruffly.
The three officers began moving toward the bar. The troopers
that had come with them remained standing “casually” by the entrance.
Coy propped one foot on the low railing that went around the
bar and leaned on the top. “Good day,” it said with a smile. “My name
is Coy Lamont. Exactly one year ago I sat at that,” Coy pointed, “table
and won a card game. And I was wondering if you had any information
on the gentleman I was playing against.”
The bartender looked at the table it had pointed to and then
back at Coy. He had an unusual expression on his face. “Now how
would I know who played a card game here a year ago?”
“Large, expensively dressed man who went by the name of
Hessemen,” Coy continued as if the man were co operating.
The barman hesitated just the tiniest bit. “So does he owe you
money or what? You said you won. What do you need him for?”
Coy raised its eyebrows at the hesitation. “Yes I did win. In
fact with my winnings I was able to start my own fleet. Maybe I just
want to thank him.”
“Your own…” the man stared at their uniforms for a moment,
searching for a name or insignia. The lack of one told him everything
he wanted to know. “The BlackFleet. You started the BlackFleet
with…” He grinned absurdly. “Now that’s irony for you.”
Ken and Bon looked at each other. “Something you want to let
us in on?” Ken asked him.
The bartender shook his head, still smiling. “Can’t. It’s amusing, but not worth my life.” He looked Coy over carefully again.
“You’re a herm.” He grinned more. “A herm at the helm of the fleet
that’s got everybody jumpin’ at their shadows. Better and better.”
Coy straightened up and blinked. “You seem to have a lot of
information about the very people we want to find. How about you
and I and a shot of …”
“Pentha?” he finished for Coy and shook his head. “You wish.
But only if you want me dead and useless.”
“You’re not rippingly useful as you are,” Ken growled.
The bartender and the three officers stood looking at each other in assorted states of amusement and frustration for a few moments.
“Look,” Coy finally said in a level tone, “People are getting
hurt. Lots of people. Really hurt. And you are standing here with information that could help. Who and what do you work for that keeps
you from answering?”
The man began wiping a cloth back and forth over the clean
bar as if in thought. He glanced back at the table Coy had indicated.
“Hessemen, you say? Never heard him use that one before. He
comes here whenever he needs to fence something quick. Always
looks different. Always sounds different. Always a different name. But
it’s him.”
“How do you know it’s the same man?” Bon asked.
Another grin. “I know.”
“Does he know you know?” Coy asked.
“We never discuss it. Makes it easier on everybody.”
“How often does he come here?” Ken asked in a less than patient voice. Coy looked at him sideways. It didn’t think pushing this
guy was going to help in the least.
“Never know. Once or twice a year. Once or twice a month.
Never know.” He pulled some glasses out from under the bar. “Can I
get you something while we’re chattin’? I usually listen. All this
talkin’ has got my mouth dry.” He pulled out a bottle and set it by the
glasses. “Our house specialty you might say.”
“N…” Coy started to refuse, despite Ken’s sudden enthusiastic
expression, when it noticed the label on the bottle. It was the same as
what was stocked on the
Raven
when Coy had taken it over. Was the
man trying to pass some kind of clue? Or was Coy ready to clutch at
straws? Surely he wouldn’t try anything as trite and obvious as drugging them – especially with the two guards at the door. The man
locked eyes with Coy over the bottle, but gave no other hint of information. It nodded at the glasses. “Alright.” Coy picked up the half
full glass and swirled it around but didn’t drink.
“How different does,
whatever his name is, look each time?”
“Oh real different. Sometimes heavy like you saw. Sometimes
skinny as a rail. He never looks too healthy that way, come to think on
it.”
“And you have no way of knowing when he might show up?”
He shook his head. “He don’t exactly book reservations.”
A few more questions got them a few more non answers.
Eventually they took what information they had along with the bottle
of liquor and left.
Once back on the
Raven,
Coy held a handpicked White meeting in its quarters. Asch happily served coffee and tea to the department heads seated around the long table as Coy and the others passed
on what they had learned.
“So how long has this guy been tending this bar in the middle
of nowhere?” Venn asked. “Years?”
“Some of his comments would seem to indicate that,” Coy
agreed.
“Years of just being friendly and listening to people. So if this
Hessemen, or the Boogeyman or anyone else showed up and asked
about us he’ll be just as friendly,” Schiff said with a frown.
“Probably,” Coy agreed again.
“So how are we going to track this guy? This Hessemen?” Bon
wondered. “If he really looks that different every single time someone
sees him.”
Ceal was looking thoughtful. Coy watched her think for a
while before interrupting.
“You have an idea?”
She looked just slightly embarrassed at contributing to the
conversation. She rarely if ever had any input for their typically technical discussions. “I was just thinking that if he really looked that different each time – I mean drastically different body weight- he is probably paying for body sculpting at a clinic somewhere.”
“Wouldn’t he use various places?” Ken asked.
She shook her head. “Not if he does it that often. Unless someone really knew him, and he trusted them, his health just wouldn’t hold
up for long. Even a few treatments like that can be hard on anyone’s
system. I would bet he has someone on retainer.”
“But we still can’t trace him without some kind of ID, can
we?” Bon asked.
“DNA” she said simply. “No matter what name or description
was on file, the DNA would have to be real.”
Ken held up two fingers. “One, we don’t have his DNA, and
two, how would we know what clinics to search?”
Venn spoke up. “The list of clinics in the entire Region may be
huge, but it is finite. If we knew what we were looking for, we would
find it.” He nodded confidently at Coy.
“Okay, so we still have number one,” Ken persisted.
Coy looked at Ceal seriously. “What would we have to have to
know his DNA? He used to live on this ship, you know. In these quarters, I would assume.”
She looked around uneasily as if the idea made her uncomfortable. She noticed with a smile she wasn’t alone. “Anything. Hair, skin
follicles, body fluids…”
Coy suddenly had a very distracted look on its face as it replayed the card game in its memory. It rubbed its lip as it thought.
“How about perspiration?”
She nodded, but frowned at the question.
“Even year old, dried perspiration?”
She thought a moment. “I could try…”
Bon frowned quizzically. “Skipper, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking, he wiped his upper lip, then picked up the data
disk with the
Raven’s
registration information, and handed it to me.
It’s been touched very little since that time.” It looked at Ceal to see if
she still thought it would work.
“I’m willing to give it the old BlackFleet try,” she grinned.
Coy smiled back at her. “You know, if this works, it could
well be the biggest break we’ve had to date.”
Ceal looked at all the expectant faces around the table and
swallowed.
“But no pressure,” Bon assured her.