Chapter 4: Nimbus

Jenny could not remember the last time she had been this tired. As it was, she was so tired that she could not remember a lot of things, so it was entirely possible that she had been this tired before but was too tired to recall it. But such thinking was tiresome.

The sun had long since set and the moon would have been up, were it not missing. The locals would sometimes reminisce about the moon, when the Doombots were not in sight and muscles could relax and tongues would loosen and people allowed themselves the luxury of remembering the days before slums and dirtsharks.

The story behind Bochco's thick asteroid ring had astonished Jenny. Before Clockwerx came, Bochco had an large, bluish moon named Nimbus. Its color was rare and by all accounts one of the greatest wonders of the galactic arm. Its gentle blue light was the pride and joy of the Bochconians.

Fifty-three Galactic Average Years ago, it exploded.

No one knows how Clockwerx did it, he announced his arrival not with dropships full of his Doombots or speeches demanding surrender. No words were spoken, no quarter was offered. The moon exploded with a terrible while light that lingered for hours. The people panicked, the government collapsed, and three days later the Doombots were everywhere and that was that.

Legend had it that a few years later a young man named Jason had an intellect so remarkable that Clockwerx became interested in him, and had him brought to his Space Palace. When Jason was before him, Clockwerx told him that he would answer any question the young man wished to ask. Terrified, Jason stammered out the question on the minds of every Bochconian: Why did Clockwerx destroy Nimbus?

Clockwerx laughed for several minutes, a cold metallic hacking with all the joy and music of a blender filled with silverwhere, then regarded Jason. “My boy,” he said, “a man has room in his heart for just one master.”

Ten minutes later, Jason's brain was part of Clockwerx's Brainframe.

Jenny's thoughts returned to the present as she noticed the lights outside of the jumpcab were moving upward almost vertically, telling her that she was almost at her destination. She rubbed her eyes and gathered her wits as the cab came to rest on its legs at the old spaceport.

The old spaceport had been abandoned when Clockwerx built the Glorious Clockwerx Spacedrome in Clockwerx City and mandated the destruction of ships that tried to land elsewhere. Spacers were by and large a pragmatic lot and soon all official traffic went to the Spacedrome and Clockwerx City became the biggest city on the planet while Sikking City, half a continent away, languished.

Speaking highly of Clockwerx City in most places in Sikking City tended to make one quite unpopular.

As Jenny walked as confidently as she could manage through the flickering lights and looming dark hangars, she resisted the urges to turn and look at the jumpcab as its she heard it whir off into the night, and also to reach up and touch her hair clips.
One on each side, the hair clips were a matched personal defense system. The one on the right was a powerful, single use bioneural disruptor- guaranteed to shut down even a shielded brain or computer system for a minimum of ten minutes. The left one was its matching canceler, so she'd stay conscious long enough to make her getaway. The Merchants kept this place pretty quiet but she had made it a habit long ago not to take unnecessary chances.

Jenny stopped in front of Hangar 18. She'd been given very specific instructions; if the light in front was blue, the Merchant was ready and waiting for her; if it was orange, something had gone wrong and the meeting was off; and if it was out, well, they'd not been to specific but Jenny understood she was to flee immediately if she valued her life. Something about a “Dirtshark Migration.” The few people she'd mentioned it to had just shuddered and quickly changed the subject.

The light was decidedly blue. Jenny made sure her face was calm and walked to the business office door, knocking rapidly five times. There was a long pause and Jenny began to feel dozens of sets of eyes on the back of her neck. Just as she felt like she could not maintain her composure any longer, a low-pitched male voice came from behind the door.

“Password?”

Jenny froze. No one had mentioned any password to her. What was she going to do? She was nearly out of time.

“Do you know the password or not?”

“I- I- No one told me about any password!” Jenny stammered.

Another long pause. Jenny fought to keep her hand from her hair clips. They were supposed to activate automatically or with the code word, but that reassurance seemed hollow alone in the dark.

“That is correct.” The door slid open. “Enter.”

Jenny steeled her nerves and walked in. The door shut behind her and the lights came up, revealing an old man with a vocalizer around his neck. His eyes twinkled as he grinned at her.

“Sorry about the pass-” he started, then frowned. He turned a dial on the vocalizer. “Sorry about the password trick.” His voice was now much higher and rougher. Older, Jenny decided. “I had to make sure you weren't Doomsquad.”

“But what good was it?” Jenny asked. “You didn't even tell me there was a password.”

“Exactly!” The man cackled. “But Doomsquad will always guess. 'All Glory To Clockwerx,' they always say.” He gestured to the door through which Jenny had just entered. From this side, she could see it was ringed with focused charges. Ion plasmatics? She didn't know much in the way of explosives. “Then, BOOM!” The man laughed. Jenny fought down a shudder with less-than-complete success. “Old Clank, he doesn't go for the brightest sparks in the fusion dome.”

“Are you Big Doog?” Jenny asked, hoping to get things moving. “Do you have what we discussed?”

The man's smile faded. “Yes, I'm Big Doog. And perhaps I have it nearby.” His eyes narrowed. “The question is, girlie. Do YOU have what we discussed?”

“All but two thousand pentacreds. I was hoping we could work out-”

“Say no more.” Doog was scowling now. “I don't haggle on price and I don't want to hear your sad, heartbreaking story of why you NEED a Geller. I told you once, if you don't have the money, don't waste my time. And YOU were the one who asked to meet two weeks early.”

“But-”

“But it's no matter.” Just as suddenly, Doog's expression returned to joviality. “It just so happens that today an anonymous benefactor wired me two thousand pentacreds on your behalf. All you need to do is transfer me the rest and we can do business.”

Jenny felt dizzy. “But who would-”

“Are you deaf, girlie? AN-ON-EE-MUS. Surely you know the Merchant's Code?”

She nodded. Everybody knew the Merchant's Code. Confidentiality was paramount to a true Merchant. And Doog most certainly was. She had checked on that with the guild before she'd even bought tickets to Bochco. She wouldn't put her life into unknown hands like some spacefaring Goldilocks.

With hands trembling, Jenny braced herself against the pain and pulled a small set of griplocks from her pocket and set them on her left thumbnail. And with a brutal pull she ripped it off.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” She had been hoping she wouldn't need to scream so much when then time came to do this. “BILLYUNS OF SAGANS THAT HURTS!” She grit her teeth to regain her composure and looked up at Doog.

The old man was astonished. Jenny took grim pleasure in the fact that at least all of this had broken through his strange bipolar act. She extended the griplocks to him. “Underside. Bioscan with password “Hartford.”

Doog numbly took the griplocks and pulled a multiscanner from his pocket. “Wait, girlie, this isn't your thumbnail! It's-”

“-Nanomesh.” Jenny finished with a grin, holding up her thumb with its intact, now uncolored nail.

“Stars, girl, you're space addled. Nanomesh? Acting like you ripped off your thumbnail?” he shook his head as Jenny laughed, then looked at the scanner. “Well, this all looks to be in order. Let's do business.” He turned and walked through the doors behind him into the cavernous hangar.

Jenny followed, her heart pounding.

As they entered, the hangar lights came on. It was empty, save for a small, old, rather battered-looking landing ship in the center. It had an elongated hull that tapered to a rounded point at the front, where a small window was visible, currently covered by a blast shield. Closer to the rear, short wings protruded from the top of the hull before arcing sharply downwards. Two empty autogun mounts graced the midsection of the hull, and a large loading ramp sat open at the stern, the only way on or off the ship save for the obligatory docking nipple on the roof. It was covered with stained and and chipped white paint, and near the nose, in faded red letters almost too pale to be seen, was the name-

“Circe.” Jenny murmured.

“Now I know she looks rough, but I swear to you I flew her here myself using my own personal cloak. That's not part of deal, of course. It's up to you to fly her out. She started out as a troop carrier but has been modified over the years. She can comfortably accommodate a crew of ten. The fusion drive is-”

“Wait. What do you mean 'modified?' What fusion drive? I asked for a Geller ship-”
“And you got one, girlie. The fusion drive was added so it could be flown, but all the Psi gear is still there, right up to the red ring in the cockpit. Last Geller ship in this sector still intact, probably the last one in this half of the galaxy. I've no way of properly testing Psi-gear, of course, but all the wires show continuity. Not that it matters- all the Psis are dead anyway. I think the last owner used the ring to dry clothes.”

“It works.” Jenny said. “It will work.”

“Great.” Doog sounded bored. “Pleasure doing business with you. The blank Valet you requested is in the cockpit. I'd get on board and get your biometrics into the computer fast. Doombots are making a sweep come daybreak. They do every time I tap into the power grid.”

Jenny did not reply but walked up to the boarding ramp and into the Circe. Doog vanished into the darkness.

Jenny walked onto the small bridge and sat in the pilot's chair. She powered up the preflight systems. She noticed a small messagepad displaying her name on one of the consoles. She picked it up and read.

“Jenny, I got the strangest feeling you needed some help and who did I run into but old Doog? We've been playing phase-poker for years. Anyway, I can read old Doog pretty well- he's got the body language of an autistic ballet dancer. I know you said you were going to be short by a couple thousand Pentacreds and I know Doog recognized you. And I had the strangest feeling there was a connection. You left so I gave the creds to Doog. Consider this a loan- pay me back or work it off next time you're through.

-Cole.

Cole's Law #84: Take care of yourself out there, Jenny. We'll be waiting for you.”

Jenny was so busy not crying that she did not see the tactical display's urgent warning of approaching gunfire and explosions.