The Battle of Hollow Jimmy



  The Battle of Hollow Jimmy

  Becky Black

  Copyright 2013 Becky Black

  Discover other titles by Becky Black

  https://beckyblack.wordpress.com/

  Cover art created from an image by Warriorprincessdi, under

  Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

  From Wikipedia Commons

  The Battle of Hollow Jimmy

  Becky Black

  Chapter 1

  "She sleeps two," the salesman said.

  "One is enough." Maiga walked from the living area into the bunkroom. Two bunks were set into the wall, with drawers underneath the lower.

  "The second one can be used for extra storage." The salesman pulled a rolling shutter down over the lower bunk. "Like so. Okay, ma'am, talking of storage, let me show you the cargo hold."

  A floor hatch in the living area gave access to the hold. Maiga climbed down the ladder into a good-sized space, almost as long and wide as the ship. Not huge, but easily big enough to carry all the supplies she'd need.

  "And forward here is your engine room."

  The tiny space directly under the cockpit just barely qualified as a room. Another hatch up to the cockpit meant a ladder got in your way every time you tried to turn around in there.

  "That's fine."

  The salesman, Jal, he'd introduced himself as, smiled. I'm not exactly a hard sell, Maiga thought. She'd already read the ship's specifications, it suited her purpose. The price, well that suited her too. Why not? She wanted to spend the money, be rid of it. Every time she handled any of it in the form of coins or paper, she wanted to wash her hands afterwards. Tesla's blood money. So, she'd use it to buy the ship and the supplies and then it would be gone.

  Maiga climbed the ladder up into the cockpit. Two chairs. Maybe she'd have one of those taken out before she left. Jal followed her up and closed the hatch behind them.

  "All the vacuum seals on the doors are good, no leaks."

  He followed her again as she nodded and walked back out into the living area behind the cockpit. It held a folding table and two chairs, a corner unit to prepare food and some wall cupboards. Now they'd made a circuit of the entire ship, Jal started talking about the engines, their speed and range. The ship was small, but fast. Range, not bad, perhaps more refuelling stops than Maiga would have liked, to recharge the power cells.

  "It's a courier's ship, essentially," Jal said, finishing his sales patter. "Fast, mid-range, small hold. You going into business, ma'am?"

  No, just minding my own.

  "Does it have any weapons?" she asked.

  That made him stare. "Um, on this class? Not really, no. There's a low power energy blaster, for dealing with navigation hazards. Nudging them. But you could hardly fight anything with it."

  The ship's defence was speed, Maiga supposed. A courier was a target for pirates. The best idea was to go somewhere else very quickly.

  "Give me a moment alone, please," she said.

  "Of course. I'll be right outside."

  He left, via the side hatch in the living area. Maiga watched him go, and then wandered through to the bunkroom again. She poked her head into the miniscule bathroom area, with its shower about the size of an upright coffin. Well, this may not be luxury, but she'd lived in rougher conditions in her time. She didn't need luxury.

  She just needed to leave.

  Too many people were coming to Hollow Jimmy now. The space station used to be home to only a few hundred permanently resident humans. Many more passed through on as soldiers on leave, looking for fun. But now they came as refugees, looking for sanctuary and Maiga had started to get nervous. The more people that came, the more chance someone would look at her and say, "Hey, aren't you…?"

  No. Time to go. But not just to wander. The refugees brought news with them, including rumours, about a fleet of surviving ships. Ships that never reached Earth before the destruction. Ships that survived battles. This fleet, said the stories, grew larger all the time. And not just in terms of ships, but of people. They were searching for and gathering up the scattered, homeless humans. Some of the stories claimed that those in command of the fleet had found a new home for humanity. A new Earth.

  That's what attracted Maiga. A new home. Like Hollow Jimmy, the fleet would be full of people, any of whom might recognise her. But for the chance of a new home, it would be worth the risk.

  She left the ship and met Mr Jal on the walkway outside the open hatch. That ‘Mr' felt awkward in her mouth and in her mind. Almost everyone she'd known in her lifetime she'd addressed by rank. But the permanent resident humans of Hollow Jimmy--the lifers they called themselves--had revived the strange old titles. Mr, Mrs, Miss. Retired or invalided out of the military, perhaps they preferred to leave the whole ranks thing behind them.

  Jal looked at her, still smiling, smug perhaps, sure that he had a sucker here, who would just hand over the full asking price.

  "Twenty percent off." His face fell at her words. "The cargo hatch sticks and the air-recycling needs overhauled. It smells like something died in there." An exaggeration perhaps, but a good opening position. Even she knew that you had to haggle with a salesman.

  "Ten percent and I'll throw in a year's rental in a private berth for the ship. That will save you having to wait for the traffic controllers to find a space. They make people wait hours sometimes."

  "Fifteen. Two extra fuel cells and forget the private berth."

  "Deal."

  ~o~

  Maiga looked up from her table in Chullan's coffee house as another woman sat down opposite her. Wixa, a long-time resident, retired from the military for a decade. She looked somewhere in her late fifties, Maiga thought, though had never asked.

  She'd first joined Maiga at her table six weeks ago. It wasn't unusual now for any two humans to sit down and start exchanging all the latest gossip, even if they'd never met before. Maiga hadn't been entirely welcoming of the approach at first, preferring solitude, but Wixa did seem to know a lot of the latest gossip and rumour. So, for the sake of picking up what she could about the fleet, she'd let the older woman join her whenever they were both in the coffee house--and Wixa appeared to practically live in the place.

  "You know I'm getting really worried," Wixa said.

  "What about?" Maiga asked, as Wixa stirred the espresso she'd brought to the table.

  "The price of coffee. Gone up again."

  "It's harder to get supplies now." With the Earth destroyed. That sentence had become the silent part of every conversation between two humans.

  "You know what's frustrating though? I know where there's a damn good supply, just waiting to be snapped up for a song." When Maiga looked surprised, Wixa shrugged. "You know I pick things up. I'm picking up a lot of stuff about various supplies lately."

  Coffee wasn't the only commodity in short supply these days. The same went for anything that came only from Earth and that humans didn't think they could do without. The detachments left behind after the recall order, to guard otherwise abandoned supply depots, had gone into business for themselves and put the goods into circulation.

  "Where is this supply of coffee then?" Maiga didn't care much, just making conversation. She liked coffee, but she could live without it. Wixa on the other hand had a cup of espresso in front of her every time Maiga saw her in here.

  "Cetlin Three. There's a big supply base there, remember?" She went on, when Maiga nodded. "The Kitsnujitar went through the place and took or destroyed all the weapons and equipment, but they didn't bother with the general supplies. So that's all on the open market now. Including sixty F size crates of coffee beans, which would fetch a tidy price here on Jimmy." She sighed and
ran a hand through her short, greying hair. "If I could get it here."

  "Can't you buy it and have it shipped here?" Maiga asked.

  Wixa shook her head. "Cost of shipping would wipe out the profit margin. I was thinking maybe I could hire a ship and go pick it up myself. That wouldn't eat into the profits so much, but…" She shrugged and folded her arms, scowling down into her cup.

  "But what?" Maiga asked, making Wixa look up again.

  "Well, you know it's getting pretty wild and woolly out there. I just wouldn't feel safe going alone."

  Maiga nodded. Stories, stronger than rumours, told of humans having a rough time of it out there. With their home planet gone, with their military destroyed, the remains of humanity had become the favourite whipping boy of the galaxy.

  The Big Four, the alliance of Muaan Qacia, Kitsnujitar, Chiamajan and Ayokidishi races, that had destroyed the Earth and its mercenary army, had no official policy of wiping out the rest of the surviving humans. A ceasefire was in place and generally holding. But they also had nothing to stop them if they wanted to harass, persecute and even kill any humans they ran across.

  No wonder so many humans were coming to the Olojimi station, Hollow Jimmy as they had dubbed it many years ago. It lay outside Big Four space. And the owners of the station, the Brox Klaff Commercial Syndicate, guarded the station's neutrality as a trading hub. They were powerful enough economically that even the major powers feared the consequences of upsetting them.

  So humans could come here and be safe. And more of them came every day, turning up on commercial transports or battle scarred military ships. Running scared. Some of those military ships had been captured and forcibly disarmed, then allowed to go, beaten and humiliated. To a proud battleship crew that was worse than death.

  Maiga put down her coffee cup. "How much profit are you talking about?"

  "Oh, well, hard to say, depends on the selling price, but I've sounded out a few of the potential buyers." She nodded back over at the counter of the coffee house, where Chullan, the owner, stood sweating over a steaming espresso machine.

  Maiga had only seen him out from behind that counter a couple of times, limping on a prosthetic leg that probably needed replacing. It probably wasn't going to be replaced any time soon. Medical supplies were no easier to source than coffee right now.

  "I think," Wixa went on, "that I could clear around four thousand SKCs after expenses."

  Maiga thought about it. Sixty F sized storage crates would fit into the hold of her new ship. She already had extra fuel cells and they only cost a couple of hundred Standard Klaff Credits to refuel anyway. Cetlin Three lay three or four days from here. Get there, buy the coffee, come back. A week, no more, and nearly two thousand credits profit to spend on fuel and supplies for her journey. And it would be her money. Clean money.

  "Fifty-fifty split?" Maiga said.

  Wixa stared. "What?"

  "I've got a ship that will hold sixty F crates. All it would cost us is the fuel, our food for a few days and the customs fees back here."

  "I didn't know you had a ship."

  "Just bought it."

  "Well, if that's not fate, I don't know what is." Wixa laughed, and then looked thoughtful. "Fifty-fifty, hmm? Well, two thousand in my account is better than four thousand in theory. A bird in the hand and all that."

  She picked up her cup, held it out and Maiga took the cue. She raised her own to tap them gently together. Wixa nodded, wearing a big smile.

  "Deal."

  ~o~

  Maiga took her jacket from the wardrobe and slipped it on. For a moment, she paused by the mirror, brushed her hair and put on a blue headband to hold her short hair off her face. Barely needed really, but she hated the tickle of hair against her face. Sometimes she thought of shaving the whole damn lot off.

  The door buzzer sounded and she replaced the brush on the dresser, lining it up neatly with the comb and the clothes brush. Then she picked up her bag from the bed and went to open the door. Wixa stood there, also wearing a jacket and carrying a bag.

  "Morning, partner," Wixa said.

  "Morning. The ship is at--" She stopped. Wixa wasn't listening; she was peering past Maiga, unashamedly trying to get a look at her quarters. Maiga stepped out and closed the door. A few quick button presses on the lock panel and she knew that even an attempt by anyone to get inside would be recorded.

  "The ship's at berth six-four-seven on level two of the docking section," Maiga said.

  Wixa yawned and stretched. "That a permanent berth?"

  "No."

  "Okay. Fancy stopping for breakfast on the way?"

  "No."

  They walked to the docking area, Wixa chatting the whole time. Another transport had come in last night, almost filled with humans. Dozens of them still hung around near the docks, hauling bags, drooping with exhaustion and trying to organise accommodation.

  Maiga nodded at a vendor with a cart holding a portable coffee machine, who prowled the busy area between the docks and the station's huge trading centre.

  "You want breakfast, grab us something to go. Potential customer too."

  "Good point," Wixa said. "Come on, let's go make nice."

  "Make nice?" Maiga didn't make nice with anyone without very good reason. She stood by silently, as Wixa bought two cups of coffee and a couple of pastries and chatted to the vendor. She already knew him of course. She must know all the humans on the station, all the lifers anyway.

  Those lifers dubbed the refugees who'd arrived more recently "drifties". They'd washed up here, like driftwood. Some of them drifted on again, hearing talk of work elsewhere. Cheap labour probably, but they had to live somehow. Some of them found work on the station, with businesses run by lifers and aliens. The industrial sectors of the station, with their factories and processing plants, bustled with humans now, almost all of them drifties.

  Maiga hadn't been working. She'd been waiting. Waiting for the only one of her friends who might still be alive. Unless he'd made it to Earth, as he'd told her he planned. If he had, then he must be dead.

  It was hard to think of Jadeth as a friend anyway, he'd been such a royal pain in the ass. Nevertheless, he had rescued her from Tesla's… dungeon. For that alone she owed it to him to wait for a while, to see if he might come back here. He hadn't. Time to go.

  Speaking of time to go. "Wixa."

  "Okay, I'm coming." Wixa nodded to her and turned back to the vendor. "Three crates then, see you in a few days." She handed Maiga a disposable coffee cup and a pastry. Maiga sipped and ate as they continued on to the docking area, past the businesses that lined the wide corridor, all jostling for the chance to catch the eye of newly arrived travellers just arriving on the station.

  "Dav's bar." Wixa nodded at a unit, a tavern. Music and voices burst from inside whenever the door opened. "Never closes."

  "Serves coffee?"

  Wixa grinned. "You're a natural."

  ~o~

  "Nice little bird," Wixa said, when they reached the ship ten minutes later. "Wanna give me a tour?"

  "Let's get underway first."

  In the cockpit, Maiga contacted traffic control for a takeoff slot and started the pre-launch sequence. Wixa stowed their bags and followed her into the cockpit a few minutes later. She sat down, sipping a fresh coffee she'd just made.

  "Take off in seven minutes," Maiga reported.

  "Okay. So what's the ship called? I assume you gave it a name."

  Maiga didn't answer at once. The ship did have a name and faced with saying it aloud for the first time, she became suddenly self-conscious about it. But it wouldn't mean anything to Wixa, why worry about it?

  "Friss."

  "Friss? That's a Chia word isn't it?"

  Damn. She would know, wouldn't she?

  "What does it mean?" Wixa asked.

  "Bird, I think," Maiga said, not looking up, finding something to do with the controls, some checks to re-run. But after a moment's silence, she glanced up to see Wi
xa eyeing her closely. She smiled and knew it wasn't very convincing. "It's just a nice sounding word."

  "Yeah, it's pretty."

  She knows. She knows what it means. Nice going. Go on and tell her you named the ship for him. The man you followed. The man you loved. The man you lost.

  Friss.

  Prophet.

  Chapter 2

  "Engine room."

  Maiga slid open the hatch and flicked the light switch inside. Wixa knelt down and leaned forward, right into the hatch. Fearing she'd overbalance, Maiga reached out, ready to grab a handful of the back of her shirt.

  "Room?" Wixa sat up again, laughing. "I see respectable rooms everywhere organising official protests about having that tiny closet included in the category of rooms." She swung her legs around and into the hatch. "Okay, let's take a look anyway. I'm not claustrophobic."

  She climbed down the ladder, fast and surefooted and Maiga followed her a moment later. After Wixa checked over the engine room's panels, they opened the door into the cargo hold. Aside from a couple of boxes of supplies for their journey, the space was empty.

  Wixa hugged herself and rubbed her arms. "Cold in here."

  "No sense in heating it," Maiga said. "Not too much above survivable anyway."

  "Suppose not. You know, we missed a trick," Wixa said. "We should have brought something with us to trade instead of travelling empty. Ah well, there's always next time."

  Next time? Maiga frowned at her. No, there's no next time. This is a one-time deal.

  "I'm going back to the cockpit," Maiga said. "I want to monitor the scanners."

  "Good idea," Wixa agreed. "We don't know what's lurking out there."

  ~o~

  Whatever might have been lurking it kept on lurking and they reached Cetlin Three sixty-eight hours after leaving Hollow Jimmy. After touchdown, Maiga walked back into the sleeping quarters, took her bag from the drawers under the bunks and took out a rifle.

  Though a compact, even stubby, piece, the sight of the rifle made Wixa's eyes widen when Maiga emerged with it nestled in her arms.

  "You, er, think you'll need that?"