Boneyards (23 page)

T
he message Squishy sent to Turtle went in a flurry of messages to Vallevu, Longbow Station, and several other places. Squishy even tried to send a message to the
Bounty
, even though she doubted anyone remembered her on the ship she had grown up on. She wanted whomever tracked her messages to think she planned to die and that she was sending good-bye messages.

Squishy spent hours at the control panel drawing up those messages. She was feeling surprisingly lethargic, ready for this part of the adventure to end. She walked the length of the cruiser, ate the best stuff on board, slept more than she probably should have—especially since she was sprawled in the second cabin, far from the cockpit and any messages or alerts she might receive.

Although she did have the cockpit set up to funnel messages to her. If any came. Which they did not.

She sent so many on her own, all different, that she lost track of what she said. Only the message to Turtle gave her fits. She needed to phrase it exactly right so that Turtle would understand. And Squishy had to hope that Turtle wouldn't just turn around and forward that message to Boss—if Turtle even knew how to find Boss.

Squishy had to trust that Turtle would send Boss a message from a secure place, somewhere different from the place she had heard from Squishy.

Squishy couldn't tell Turtle exactly what she needed. She had to rely on Turtle's memory of events that happened between twelve and sixteen years ago. She and Turtle had had codes back then, messages they wanted to send each other if something should go wrong, messages that coded the other person's reaction, just in case the first person was caught doing something illegal.

Well, Squishy had done something illegal. More illegal than either of them had imagined back in the day.

She had blown up a research station, maybe even killed a woman, not through her scientific experiments, but because of her bomb.

The other thing that had slowed her thoughts these last few days had been one other memory—that of the bomb she had made for Boss twelve years ago. Boss wouldn't tell Squishy if anyone had died when that bomb went off.

Boss said she didn't know, and Squishy had believed her—or at least, Squishy had wanted to believe her. She had never checked.

Just like she had never checked to find out if all of the signatures that had been on the station that morning when she arrived had managed to leave the station before the bomb went off.

Of course, that then led to Quint's questions: What would she have done if someone had remained? What could she have done?

She didn't like to think about that.

Any more than she liked to think about relying on Turtle. But she had to. She had to trust (how ironic!) that Turtle would remember their old codes, and then care enough to act upon them.

In the end, Squishy sent a fairly short message: She apologized for treating Turtle the way that she had. She then mentioned an incident that never happened—one of their codes—and said that she had thought that everyone involved shouldn't have taken any action at all, that they should have left each person to their fate.

It was as blatant as she could get without tipping off the Empire that she was worried Boss would come after her.

Then Squishy added one more thought:
I've always felt I did the wrong thing by giving that last ship to the Empire. Under no circumstances should any similar ship ever get into imperial hands. I'm sure you understand.

She knew that Turtle wouldn't understand that part. But Boss would. And maybe, if Squishy was lucky and Turtle had forgiven her, Boss would get that message.

And Boss would do the right thing: leaving Squishy to her fate.

“W
e're being followed,” Mikk says. He sits near one of the control panels on the far side of the cockpit.

The cockpit of
Nobody's Business Two
is set up for twelve people to work the systems if need be, but I've never needed twelve to do so. I still don't have twelve people in this room. I have seven, counting me. That's everyone on board this ship who can be useful in space flight. I feel crowded, but I don't mind. I might need every single person before this trip is done.

Coop sits next to me in the copilot spot, but should things get dicey, I might let him command. I've never had a ship with full weapons before, and I've certainly never captained one, so I will bow to his experience if need be.

Yash is monitoring the
anacapa
drive. Right now, we have it on low. I'm not going to power it up until it's absolutely necessary.

Mikk and Roderick are at various seats throughout the cockpit, working the systems. Rossetti has charge of the weapons systems; she helped supervise their installation so that, besides Coop and Yash, she's the person who knows the most about them. DeVries is also here because he asked to observe. If he gets in the way, I'll make him leave.

My heart is pounding. I got us into this, but I'm not panicked. I'm a little more thrilled than I want to be. I have forgotten how addicting an adrenaline rush can be.

It took us nearly an hour to gather everyone and get to the ship. Coop and I went directly to the
Two
. We searched the interior for tracers. We figured there were tracers on the outside, and we planned to leave them for the time being. But we made sure we could jettison them quickly in flight.

Not that it mattered, in the end. Most tracers only worked short range, and we planned to get out of this area quickly—maybe even with the
anacapa
drive.

After we went to this Boneyard.

I told Coop about it, but not in detail. I didn't want to get his hopes up. I just told him that it was an old graveyard of unworkable ships, and he was a bit disparaging to me. He figured, like I originally had, that the old graveyard was only old in modern terms, not in his terms.

He probably figured (and this is what I wanted him to assume as we left Azzelia) that the ships were old Empire ships or local ships from the sector. It hasn't been our experience in the short history of the Lost Souls to discover Dignity Vessels in a cluster.

In fact, we figured that the Dignity Vessels we've been discovering all over our sector of space have slowly eased out of foldspace, only to show up at various times throughout history. None of us—the scientists, engineers, and physicists—believed that the Dignity Vessels, no matter how well constructed, could survive all of that time in space.

But some clearly had, and with certain systems intact.

I have often wondered if the
anacapa
drive made that possible, that it provided some kind of protection, like a shield. Yash pooh-poohs that, but she hasn't dismissed it entirely.

We're dealing in things we don't understand, and that makes our work difficult.

In fact, we're dealing in things that the
Ivoire
's crew doesn't understand either. More than once, Yash has wished she could consult with the experts on the
Pasteur
, the Fleet's main science vessel. Experts got scattered throughout the ships of the Fleet, but the science vessel still had the bulk of the reputable scientists.

And Yash seems to believe, with an almost religious fervor, that those scientists could have figured out all the things she can't.

I'm not so sure. But I'm not an expert in anything except the ever-fluid unknowns of history itself. I have spent my life constantly surprised by the way that actual events aren't actual at all, and the things that we believe to be true often aren't.

“Should we do something about them?” Mikk asks. “I count three ships.”

I glance up at the screens. The ships are as large as this one. One is a modified tourist cruiser that shouldn't be able to keep up with us (but is, hence my knowledge of the modification), another is a cargo ship with a bunch of parts added, and the last is a ship of a configuration I don't recognize.

I have no idea which is the greatest threat, so I'm going to assume they all are. I don't want to engage them, and at the moment, they clearly don't want to engage me.

I say, “They want us to know that they're there.”

We aren't very far from Azzelia. We're on a course to the Boneyard. I had expected ships to ambush us there. I hadn't expected any to follow us.

“We can still lose them,” Mikk says.

He doesn't like being followed any more than I do.

“There's no point in losing them,” I say. “They know where we're going.”

Half the people in the cockpit look at me in surprise. They probably think I should be more panicked than I am.

“Is this place worth going to?” Coop asks.

“If what the folks in that bar told me is accurate, then yes,” I say. I haven't had time to brief the crew about my experience. I only said that based on a discussion I had in a bar, we could be in trouble, and we needed to leave immediately.

“Were the people in that bar just following your lead?” Roderick asks. “I mean, this could be some kind of trap.”

Roderick understands how these things work. My divers have all spent time in space stations and starbases. There are a lot of shady characters in those places, some of whom like to get a ship to an unpoliced part of space, and then board it and strip it of all valuables, sometimes killing the crew.

“You think the people in that bar set me up?” I ask, trying to keep the smile off my face. Roderick should know better. We've both watched that game a million times. We understand it. And the fact he thinks I've forgotten is amusing. “I'm sure they did set me up.”

Roderick clearly isn't finding any of this amusing. He turns slightly in his chair so that he can make eye contact with me. This is Roderick Sincerity Mode.

“Then, Boss,” he says, “I respectfully submit that we shouldn't go. They probably know what you were asking about and just fed it to you.”

I shake my head. He's finally managed to insult me. “I'm not that naïve. They didn't know exactly what I was asking for. I kept changing my information. They told me a few things that they would have no idea mean anything to me.”

Now Coop is looking at me. “What, exactly?”

“We're almost there,” I say. “We can see for ourselves.”

Coop glances at Yash, who is frowning.

“I don't like the idea of flying into a trap,” Roderick says stubbornly. “We're not a fighting vessel. We're a bunch of scientists and divers.”

“I know,” I say gently.

Coop puts a hand on my arm. The touch is light, a warning to stop the argument.

I'm about to remind him that my people aren't military and can question command decisions when he says, “If it's a trap, we have the
anacapa.
We can get away from them quickly.”

I'm surprised. He's actually engaging in a discussion about a decision.

“No offense,” Roderick says, “but I want to avoid that
anacapa
thing as much as possible.”

Coop grimaces, but of course Roderick doesn't see that. “No offense taken.”

I suspect Roderick is simply voicing how all of us feel about the
anacapa.
Some of us have always been wary, and Coop's people have a healthy respect for the drive that they hadn't had before.

“I wouldn't be surprised if there are other ships waiting for us when we get to this Boneyard,” I say. “Coop, you and Joanna need to be ready. They might fire on us. They think we have something valuable here.”

“Valuable where?” Mikk asks.

“In the ship,” I say.

“Oh, this is just getting better and better,” Roderick mutters.

I ignore that, even though Coop stiffens beside me. That comment has gone past his disobedience threshold.

“What would they find valuable about the
Two?
” Yash asks in a tone that shows how much contempt she has for my ship.

I haven't had time to brief the crew.

“They've seen the energy signatures from the
anacapa
drive. They want to know what it is,” I say.

“What did you tell them?” Yash asks suspiciously.

“That it's a miraculous drive from the past that the Empire has been trying to re-create for generations,” I say, then I roll my eyes. “Seriously, you guys, I'm not that stupid.”

Yash grunts and turns away. Apparently she doesn't approve of my little adventure. Maybe Coop's way is the better way.

“Why would they be interested in the energy signature?” Coop asks. “You said no one knows what it is.”

I give him a sideways look. “They've seen it before.”

Stunned silence greets that statement. Coop is clearly thinking about it. “They've seen it at this Boneyard.”

I nod. I'm not going to explain any further. Let him think there's one Dignity Vessel among the dead ships, not an active shield around those ships that has a similar signature to the
anacapa
drive.

“The upshot is this,” I say. “They want this ship. They have no idea what's causing that energy signature, but they want it.”

“So why didn't they keep you in the bar?” DeVries asks. Of course, DeVries is the one to ask that. He hasn't had this kind of experience before.

I smile. “They think we're more vulnerable out there. If they attacked us in the resort, they might have lost their clearance. Out here, we're an easy target.”

“Or we would be without the weapons systems and the
anacapa
,” Coop says.

I realize that I had unintentionally lied to the patrons in that bar. I had told them that we hadn't modified the
Two
from her factory specs. But we had in an obvious way. We had the weapons.

Maybe this group of space pirates—if, indeed, that's what they are—understood adding weaponry.

I find it funny that I worry about telling the bar patrons one untruth while I was telling them another. It isn't that the bar patrons matter; it's that they needed to think me as sincere as possible—I wanted them to believe I had no idea what that signature was, and that it had come from something the scientists had put on board my ship.

I wanted the advantage; I didn't want to give it to them.

But I say nothing to my team now. We're in this situation, and frankly, I want to see this Boneyard. Even if it's half of what the bar patrons said it was, it's worth all the time and expense we've taken.

Of course, there is some risk.

“There's a fourth ship now,” Mikk says.

Coop nods. He doesn't ask me if I want him to take over the ship, but I can sense that he wants to.

“Oh, my God,” Yash says.

We all look at her, except Mikk.

“Yeah, their weapons systems are pretty amazing,” he says.

“No,” she says. “Look at this, Coop.”

He leans over, and I swear, his face turns pale. I've never seen anyone's face do that before.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I don't know,” he says, “but I haven't seen readings like this since we left the Fleet.”

Before his
anacapa
malfunctioned. Before he came here.

“Is it another Dignity Vessel?” Roderick asks.

Coop shakes his head, but answers, “I don't know.”

“Is it another damn ship?” Mikk asks, because he thinks we're outgunned now.

“I have no idea,” Coop says.

I look at him. There's something in his face I can't read. Hope? Fear? I'm not sure. He's trying to keep the emotions off his face.

“If this is your Boneyard,” he says, “we could be in a hell of a lot of trouble.”