Showdown at Jupiter's Edge: A Maxo Magnaveer Adventure, Page 3

  Aboard his Caprice named Protector, Captain Shineer Havlock changed out of his dining robes, bathed, and put on a forest green CLF tunic, a matching pair of pantaloons, black boots, and a white ceremonial sash with gold trim. Whistling Rule, Britannia, he combed his red moustache and flattop, then smiled at the mirror in front of him. Looking back was the façade of a darling, 40-year-old Englishman which hid a rich froth of arrogance and ambition.

  Havlock’s deputy, Detectant Nadonna Bergeron, a young Grand Canadian from Winnipeg, greeted Havlock as he exited his cabin. “Captain,” she said in a husky voice, “Both Valiant and Gallant have reached the waypoint along with the customs beat boats and ferry. There was no sign of pirates or the barge. Debris is all that remains of the beacon and the tug. The body of the tug’s pilot was recovered. Gallant is returning to the Moon with those items.”

  “How bloody awful,” Havlock crooned. “If only Valiant arrived sooner.” He waved his hand ahead of them. “Please, walk with me to the bridge.”

  “Yes, but sir,” Bergeron said, leaning into her boss, “Valiant was supposed to escort Gravy Boat. I’m still unclear why—”

  “Why she diverted,” Havlock retorted, “leaving so-called Gravy Boat alone on the back burner, so to speak?” He pulled Bergeron along the passageway by the elbow and strode forward. “As a clever ruse, of course. A way to draw out the enemy.”

  Bergeron eased her arm away from Havlock and picked up their pace, so much so her boots hammered the gray and white composite floor tiles, the clacks raking the dull aluminum bulkheads. Havlock nodded at a pair of patrol officers who passed by, while Bergeron stared ahead. “I thought we deployed there to defend Gravy Boat,” she said.

  “Make no mistake, detectant, we were defending Gravy Boat by playing offense.” Just outside the bridge’s entry, the passageway widened, and part of the bow’s bulging windows wrapped into the corridor’s ceiling. Through them, they could see the Martian moon Phobos and two other Caprices overhead. Havlock pointed at them. “Do you see Charger there, along with Sentry II?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Send Charger to meet Valiant at the customs waypoint and have them conduct a thorough crime scene investigation.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sentry II will join us, and we will retrace Gravy Boat’s path through Patrol Zone Betty. We’ll leave no space rock unturned.”

  They entered the bridge and walked toward the Squad Captain’s flight seat. Havlock pointed to it. “One of these is waiting for you in squad one-fiver-Adam.” He flicked his moustache and cocked his head.

  Bergeron struggled. She was so close to promotion, but Havlock just ordered the squad in every direction except where any rookie could see they should go, deep into Patrol Zone Charlie and, if necessary, David. These areas covered Martian space, the Asteroid Belt, and the Jovian system. Only smalltime junkers frequented Patrol Zones Adam and Betty.

  “One-fiver-Adam,” she stammered, “could probably spare Trident to follow up Gravy Boat’s trail, eh, while we head deeper into Charlie space.”

  “My, my,” Havlock sneered, “aiming for precinct commander now? We are getting big for our cargoloons, aren’t we?” He hopped into his flight seat and crossed his legs. “Be careful not to botch this, detectant.”

  Chapter 3

  This Must Be A Test

  Aboard Candy Lady, Maxo and Alice walked toward the bridge from the upper carriage bay’s airlock. Unlike the dark exterior of the craft, the interior was bright. Orange, turquoise, lime, and lavender bulkhead panels in the lower concourse, in conjunction with accent lighting, lilac scent expressors, and background piano music blended with the sound of a water fountain, reminded Alice of a resort and spa she once visited in coastal Mexas.

  “I’m beginning to think our junker is more than a junker,” Maxo said. “Look over there.” He gestured toward an airlock that connected the concourse to a tow bar with no less than eight Venusian pod gliders attached to it.

  “Guess they know how to have fun with themselves and up to seven friends,” Alice sighed. “Who has seven friends? I maybe have two and one of them is Dodo, my cat.”

  Maxo stepped up to an elevator in the concourse’s forward bulkhead. “I’m guessing this goes to the bridge. I’ll go first, then you follow me.”

  “Roger that, Maxo.”

  When the elevator door opened, Maxo looked inside and found it was empty. “Okay, here I go.” Once aboard, the door closed, so Maxo pulled out his compu-pad to make sure its signal was still connected to their beater’s main computer. That’s when he noticed the message from CLF’s human resources A.I.

  “The application deadline has passed! What?” He double checked the job announcement. After re-reading it, he turned off the compu-pad and shoved it back into a pocket on his cargoloons just as the elevator door opened.

  “Hello.”

  Before the second syllable of “Hello” ended, Maxo drew his laser pistol and pointed it at the dark-haired young man who had greeted him.

  “Who are you?” Maxo bellowed. He eyed the youth, who seemed to be no older than twenty.

  “Captain Rayanna Duffy asked me to meet you. I am unarmed and I am Digi. My name is Leo.”

  Maxo holstered his pistol and stepped into the foyer between the elevator and the bridge. “I am Detectant Maxo Magnaveer, CLF.” He looked again at Leo, who smiled at Maxo as if they were best friends. Interested in Leo’s white tunic and black pantaloons, often the attire of hospitality workers, Maxo asked, “And what do you do here, Leo?”

  The boy became sheepish and looked away for a moment. “I work as a special assistant to Captain Duffy, but I…” He stammered and gazed at the ceiling. “I guess you could say I am still trying to figure out what I want to be. Captain Duffy says I have an important job already, and maybe that’s true, but my heart isn’t really in it. Does that sound silly?”

  “Of course not.” Maxo took a deep breath and exhaled. “If you could choose to be anything you wanted, to do anything, what would it be?”

  Leo laughed and nodded. “I will let you know just as soon as I figure it out.”

  “Sorry to be late, gentlemen,” Alice said, striding out of the elevator. “But I was responding to a transmission from headquarters.”

  “Leo, this is Senior Patrol Officer Alice Mirza-Cheong. Alice, this is Leo, our envoy from Captain Duffy.”

  Alice recognized Leo as a Digi due to his complexion. Light and shadow on Digis never quite matched one’s immediate surroundings. She nodded and Leo saluted.

  “Were you taking space junk?” Alice asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Leo said. “Captain Duffy says we are haulers, but I only get involved in social matters. Sorry, I’m not trying to avoid your question.”

  “That’s good enough for now,” Maxo suggested. “We will interview you later, after we have spoken to Captain Duffy. However, at the moment, can you confirm she is one of two humans on board?”

  Alice glanced at Maxo and bowed her head, suppressing a smirk.

  “No, there aren’t two, just one. She’s the only human. The rest of us are Digi,” Leo explained, passing Maxo’s honesty quiz. “Six engineers and me, the cocktail waiter.”

  “Hey,” Alice bellowed, “you serve cocktails? I’d kill for a Newky right about now.”

  “Later,” Maxo said. “For now, let’s go meet Captain Duffy.”

  “You got it,” Leo said, then led Maxo and Alice into and through Candy Lady’s huge bridge, greeting Digi engineer crew along the way. Like many F-series transports built at Ford’s Mare Nubium plant, this one had windows lining the breadth of the superstructure, console rows for the crew, and large V.R. stations for monitoring and controlling the loading and unloading of the dual carriage bays.

  “You’ll notice the external, rear-facing mirrors starboard and port,” Leo said, as if leading a tour group. “These are manual back up to our automated systems and are just a couple of the many customized special features Captain D
uffy has added. You’re walking on another.”

  Maxo and Alice stopped and looked at the gray floor. “Oh, that’s so nice,” Alice said. “Look Maxo, the deck overlay, it’s tufted. We are literally walking on air!”

  “That’s right, Alice,” Leo replied, “pneumatic-assisted flooring is so much easier to stand and walk on during long missions. I hear the sim-grav can make your feet sore.”

  “I so want this for my flat,” Alice exclaimed while Maxo nodded.

  “And just in here,” Leo signaled to a doorway leading to a briefing chamber, “we’ll have you wait for Captain Duffy. Please have a seat. She’s on her way up from the drive deck.”

  Maxo and Alice each looked around the chamber, then sat in plump, burgundy seats affixed to a rectangular conference table. The white bulkheads curved overhead into an arched ceiling, which was lit by dim recessed lighting behind the room’s cornice.

  Once Leo exited, Maxo cleared his throat, started to speak, paused, then leaned back, looked at the ceiling, and said, “What was the transmission from headquarters? You mentioned being delayed because you were responding to it.”

  “Oh,” Alice murmured, “that.” She placed both her hands on the table, palms down, then began to drum them at random. “About that, they were actually trying to reach you, but their transmission went straight to pad mail. Yup, straight to pad mail.”

  Maxo sighed. “I turned off my compu-pad.” He waited for Alice to continue but had to prompt her. “What did they want?”

  After folding her hands on the table, Alice said, “A report, forthwith, on the unauthorized targeting of link-a-matron satellites. I acknowledged the message, thanked them, and said we, in fact, were already writing that report and to expect it forthwith. Yup, forthwith.”

  At this point, Maxo had closed his eyes.

  “If I may, why did you have your pad turned off?” Alice asked.

  Maxo sat up and shook his head. “I was upset. They rejected my application for squad captain, said I missed the deadline. So, I switched it off.” He looked at Alice and frowned. “I have never felt so desperate. It doesn’t make any sense. Something else must be going on. I’ve got to get that promotion. I’ll do anything. It means everything to me.”

  “I am so sorry,” Alice said. “You deserve better than this, you really do.”

  “I just don’t know how I can change this, but I’ve got to. I just have to!”

  “You should talk to someone in H.R. A real person, a human.” Alice smiled and pulled some jerky out of her pants pocket, then slid the packet across the table. “Finish that, it’s all yours.”

  At first, Maxo grabbed the jerky and wanted to throw it across the room, but then he pulled it aside and put it in his cargoloons. “Thanks, Alice.”

  “Just a friendly reminder, there’s more to life than the CLF.”

  “Huh?” Maxo barked. His confusion melted into despair then boiled into anger. “What is that supposed to mean? I’ve dedicated my life to the CLF! I’m nothing without the CLF.”

  Just then, Captain Duffy entered the briefing chamber followed by Leo. Duffy was petite and sharp, like a dagger. Her face, although smudged by grease, was bright and glowing. As she rolled up the sleeves of her snug brown overalls, which was also smudged with grease and stained by acid spills, she said, “Welcome aboard, I’m Captain Rayanna Duffy, and I am sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Maxo and Alice stood. “We appreciate your cooperation,” Maxo said. “I’m Detectant Magnaveer and this is Senior Patrol Officer Mirza-Cheong. Judging from your appearance, you must be making repairs on the drive deck.”

  “Exactly,” Duffy proclaimed. “You are very perceptive, detectant! We threw a drive coil and an interchange coupler for starters. Had to shut everything down except life support and communications. I’m afraid we drifted into the junk field by accident.”

  “From where?” Maxo asked.

  “We were in hyper-weave from the Moon, running touch and go flights around the Sun. Candy Lady is fresh off the dock. But please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.” Duffy motioned toward the seats then resumed after all except Leo sat down. “The holo-drive quit, and we dropped out right in the middle of the junk field. Just glad it happened here and not nearer the Sun. We were incredibly lucky.” Duffy took out a cleanser pad and began to wipe her face. She let out her tied-back, shoulder-length brown hair and ran her fingers through it. That’s when Maxo noticed her beautiful gold and diamond rings.

  “Why do you own an F-9350?” Maxo asked. “Seems like only a junker would be interested in this model.”

  “I’m a hauler not a junker.” Duffy smiled. “Solis et Novem doesn’t have enough in-house carriers. That’s where I come in. I can tackle the biggest cargo transfers in the solar system. I haul like nobody’s business. But don’t take my word for it. Check your CLF records. Not a single blemish.”

  “On it,” Alice said, pulling out her compu-pad.

  “And I’m sure your data logs will verify the sequence of maintenance issues you described?” Maxo asked.

  “Ah, normally.” Duffy nodded and chuckled. “Your flight system override baked the data logs. They literally read nothing but zeroes for the past 24 hours.”

  “Hmmm,” Maxo murmured.

  Duffy unzipped her overalls enough to reveal a generous portion of her upper breast cleavage. She wiped the area with another cleanser pad. “I’ll have Ariel, one of my Digi-person engineers, check on it. Maybe she can recover the data?”

  “Fine,” Maxo said, glancing at Alice. Her face was hidden behind the compu-pad. His heart ached and his face smoldered. Despite the pleasant lighting and lack of windows in the briefing chamber, Maxo slipped on his sunglasses and stood, which prompted Alice to set her compu-pad on the table and stand at attention. Duffy remained seated. “Captain, how long before your drive is repaired?” Maxo asked.

  “That’s the good news, detectant. It is ready.” Duffy gave Maxo a thumbs-up. “We can be out of here and back to the dealership before you can say—”

  “You’re under arrest, Captain Duffy, for suspicion of theft, trespassing, and impeding a CLF investigation.” He turned to Alice. In his anger at her for the belittling “more to life than the CLF” remark, he wanted to suspend her on the spot for targeting the link-a-matron satellites, but he needed her for now. “Officer Mirza-Cheong, please escort Captain Duffy to a confinement cell aboard our boat, then standby on the flight deck there for further instructions.”

  “Roger that,” Alice replied. Although she stood, Duffy protested, so Alice grabbed and held her in an armlock then handcuffed her. “According to the Charter of the United Space Nations,” Alice said, “you have rights that protect you from unlawful seizure of your person and property. Among these are the right to remain silent and to request—”

  “Request?” Duffy shouted. “I don’t request anything! I order you to let me go.”

  Leo dropped his gaze to the floor and stepped out of Alice’s way to let her and Duffy exit the briefing chamber. Once the commotion passed, he looked up and told Maxo, “I helped Captain Duffy change into the overalls and wipe grease on her face.”

  “I see.”

  “She didn’t come here from the drive deck. She came from her quarters, just one level below us.”

  “Thank you for your honesty, Leo.” Maxo walked to the other side of the table and picked up Alice’s compu-pad. He scrolled through the results of Duffy’s background check and saw that she had no prior violations in the CLF database. She was clean. Maxo set the pad back on the table and folded his arms.

  That’s when a Digi rushed into the briefing chamber. “Leo, have you heard the news?”

  “Heard what, Ariel?”

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Ariel said. Maxo heard her Australian accent, which sparked a memory of home. Many of his childhood chums were Australian, as well as his father.

  “Not to worry,” Leo said. “Please meet Detectant Magnaveer.”

  “G’day,
Ariel, pleased to meet you.” Maxo shook her hand and was surprised by how real her hand felt in his. Her eyes and smile gleamed, standing out from her dark, round aboriginal face. He towered over her, but his slouch lessened the difference, something Maxo learned to do growing up around friends and neighbors who were often much shorter than himself.

  “G’day, sir. Honor to meet you.” She straightened her light-gray tunic and looked up at Maxo. “Are we in trouble?”

  “That depends,” Maxo grumbled, “were you stealing space junk?”

  “We’re fair dinkum haulers,” Ariel replied, “at least that’s what the captain says. A lot.”

  “Ariel,” Leo added, “Captain Duffy has probably not been telling us the truth about what we do out here.”

  “She always seemed a bit iffy, but better not drag us down with her,” Ariel said.

  “Now, what did you what to tell us?” Maxo asked. “When you rushed in, you asked if we’d heard the news. What news?”

  “That wombat, the one some people call ‘The Colonel,’” Ariel gasped, “he’s proclaimed control of the shipping lanes and seized the Martian food barge.”

  “What?” Leo exclaimed. “I don’t believe it. That’s insane!”

  “Here, it’s on the stream,” Ariel said. She activated the conference table’s monitors. The screens were installed within the table, lying flat under glass, so she, Leo, and Maxo leaned in to take a closer look.

  D’Rump was surrounded by darkness, except where stark lighting illuminated his chubby face. As musical fanfare and applause faded, he started by pursing his lips and sucking air in through his clenched dentures. Once the hissing stopped, he said, “I am the Colonel and I imagine some you don’t know who I am, although I am not sure, I guess if you’ve been living under a rock on Pluto, then it’s possible you wouldn’t have heard of me…”