Magnolia Blume guided her spaceship to the dock of the Providence Tenement space station. Even from the outside, the massive structure looked rundown. Entire sections seemed to be missing. Maggie redirected her attention away from the dilapidated walls and back to the airlock she needed to reach. As her boat drifted gently closer and closer, a warning light appeared on her display. She sighed and took over manual controls. The outdated guidance system of the space station couldn’t connect.
She had been hauling freight for a long time under a wide variety of circumstances. It wasn’t a problem to fly the boat into place, but it was frustrating to see a structure like that, home to thousands of people, not even up to date with basic features. She attached to the airlock and powered down. She unhooked herself from the pilot’s seat and drifted weightless into the air. Then she grabbed the back of the chair and propelled herself out of the cockpit. She floated down the hall to the appropriate airlock and made her way through.
The door closed behind her. A voice came over the speakers around her, but it was too distorted to understand a single word of it. She suspected it was telling her to prepare for gravitational effects, so she grabbed the rail provided and twisted her body into an upright position. The speakers beeped, and she was pulled to the floor. She took a moment to steady herself then walked through the next door.
The lights were dim and the walls were scuffed and dirty, but the moving walkway worked. She rode it idly since she didn’t know how far she would have to walk. Eventually she came to a little kiosk with a directory of residents. She searched for Natalie Hampton, found her, and memorized the address. Then she made her way deeper into the space station.
The further she moved into the Providence Tenement, the more she encountered groups of people. No one paid much attention to her. She eventually reached the right address and pressed the doorbell. The door slid open, and Maggie found herself face to face with a petite woman in her early twenties. Natalie had cut her hair short enough that it barely reached her chin, and the left side of her face was bruised all the way from her split lip to her black eye, but it was undeniably her.
“Maggie?” Natalie murmured weakly. Her voice cracked and she immediately began to cry.
Maggie gasped and reached out to embrace her. “I’m here,” she said soothingly. “It’s okay; I’m here.”
Maggie reached back and tapped the sensor to close the door. Natalie clung to her. Through her tears she managed to say, “I’m so sorry to drag you into this. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Stop,” Maggie said softly. She touched the girl’s bruise very gently. “Of course you should have called me. I’m going to kill him.”
“No,” Natalie objected urgently. “No, that would be bad. That’s very sweet. In like a demented way, but it is.”
Maggie laughed softly. She was flattered her friend realized she had meant it literally.
“He has Velvet Iron connections,” Natalie explained. “I don’t think he’s a member, but we’ve seen enough to know he’s not bluffing.”
“What happened?” Maggie asked.
“Zeke wants me to go to Sheol. He has a pickup there. And we know what kinds of things you pick up on Sheol.”
“Why you?” Maggie asked.
“I don’t know,” Natalie replied. “But I only haul for the tenement. Maybe he wants distance between his business partners and whatever I’d be carrying.”
“I take it you said no.” Maggie turned Natalie’s face carefully to inspect the cuts and bruises.
“Yeah.” Natalie’s voice cracked again. She clenched her jaw and took long, deep breaths, obviously trying not to cry again.
“I can help,” Maggie told her. She slipped her arms around her and pulled her in, holding her close but doing it gently. “I won’t do anything crazy,” she added.
***
Maggie burst into Zeke Underwood’s office within an hour. His secretary followed her in, wobbling on extremely tall and thin heels. “I said no!” the secretary practically shouted. “Mr. Underwood! I’m so sorry. This woman is insane!”
Zeke Underwood looked up from his desk calmly. He seemed to be about fifty, with long blond hair and bushy sideburns framing his long, lean face. He wore a nice suit and sat behind a nice desk. The office was spotless and decorated with expensive artwork, quite the contrast from the grime and decay in the halls.
“Who are you?” Underwood asked.
“Maggie Blume. I’m a freighter. I hear you could use my services.”
“I take care of all that in house,” Underwood replied. “Please leave.”
“Natalie Hampton won’t be hauling your contraband,” Maggie said.
“Excellent. I don’t transport contraband.”
“And she won’t be traveling to that half-baked hell to be murdered, raped, and eaten. In that order if she’s lucky.”
Underwood chuckled. “Sheol is quite the misunderstood place.”
“Let’s negotiate,” Maggie offered. “My boat is better and bigger than Natalie’s. Let me pick up whatever you’ve ordered. You pay me nothing, but you let Natalie leave with me once it’s done. I have a better chance of getting the job done anyway.”
Underwood leaned back in his chair and looked her up and down. “And what if I don’t trust you?” he asked. “What if I say no to all of that?”
Maggie pulled the hem of her jacket back to reveal the pistol on her hip. “Then I’ll shoot you in the face right now.”
Underwood shifted his gaze to the gun then back to Maggie’s face. He asked, “How did you bring a gun onto my space station?”
“Your outdated system didn’t even try to stop me.”
Underwood shook his head in disbelief. He said, “You wouldn’t get halfway back to your ship.”
Maggie shrugged. “And whoever replaces you won’t care about Natalie. You and I lose. Everyone else wins.”
Underwood sighed. “Alright,” he said. “Maybe we can reach an agreement. But I’m sure you understand a man in my position can’t be seen taking threats lightly. So when we’re done, if I ever see you again, I will kill you.”
Maggie nodded in acknowledgement.
“And if you don’t finish the job,” Underwood added, “I’ll kill her.”
***
Maggie settled into orbit above the planet Sheol. She looked down at the daytime side of the planet and noted the patches of greenery separated by large, dark streaks of rocky terrain. It was an abandoned terraforming project. The air was breathable but thin. Resources were plentiful enough for survival but not much else. And no government was recognized by any of the other civilizations in the system. They changed too fast and too violently for anyone to bother.
The display in front of her turned green. She made a call down to the surface. A man’s voice came over the cockpit speakers immediately. “Maggie?”
“Hi, Drake,” Maggie said. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
“I’d say the same,” Drake Xavier replied, “but why are you close enough to this forsaken dumpster fire to call me?”
Maggie said, “I’m helping a friend. Life and death.”
“Oh.” Drake sighed. “That’s the best reason I can think of. Can I help?”
“You’re free? I just need you for a day.”
“Yeah I have a few jobs open, but I’m not planning to move on anybody soon. Meet me in Purge at the Gunmetal Union Saloon. Be careful on the way in. There’s no air traffic control, and parking is pretty informal.”
“Thanks,” Maggie said. “I’ll be there soon.”
She entered the atmosphere and navigated her way to the settlement Purge. While there was no one to organize incoming traffic, there also wasn’t much traffic to organize. She landed in an open patch of barren land near the edge of town. The saloon was easy to see from the air, so she thought it would be simple to find her way there on foot.
“Alma, raise security to ‘hostile.’”
A feminine voice intoned over the ship’s speakers, “This action will increase sensitivity to maximum and allow lethal reactivity. Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Maggie said as she exited the cockpit.
“Security set to ‘hostile.’” Alma told her.
Maggie drew her compact pistol from beneath her jacket. She ejected the magazine and confirmed it was full. She replaced it and racked the slide to chamber a round. Then she holstered the gun and left the ship.
The saloon wasn’t crowded, but there were plenty of people inside, especially sitting at the bar. She saw Drake immediately. He was clean and handsome and had all of his limbs, making him stand out among the settlers, pirates, and prostitutes. His short, dark hair was even neatly groomed, and while he hadn’t shaved in a while, he didn’t have the thick, common frontier beard. He stood up and gave her a firm handshake when she approached his table.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Maggie told him. “I think this will go better with you there.”
“I’m happy to help,” Drake said. Then he asked, “What are we doing?”
Maggie sighed and explained, “I took a job from a mob associate. His last trucker is a friend of mine, and I don’t like the way he treats her. I bought her freedom. Now I have to smuggle his trash without dying or he’ll kill my friend.”
Drake just looked at her for a moment. He lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. “Well then,” he said. “Let’s make sure we’re thorough.”
***
Maggie flew them to an area called Quiet Cove. The name had a peaceful ring to it, but the area was quiet because it couldn’t sustain life. The landing zone was right up against the rocky shoreline where purple-tinted toxic waters carved pathways through the base of the bluff only dozens of feet below.
Maggie and Drake exited the vehicle side by side. Drake carried a flashgun in addition to the pistol on his hip. He held it in a low, non-threatening manner, but it was there to be seen by the people they were meeting. It was a two-handed energy weapon designed for combat in space. The thick beam traveled the same with or without gravity and was devastating against human flesh without risking much damage to control panels or the hull of a ship.
There were only two men waiting for them near the edge of the short cliff, but behind them near the parked aerial vehicle were nine more men. “We’re a little outnumbered,” Maggie said quietly.
“They just want to get paid,” Drake said. “No need to worry. They know what’s good for business.”
The men waiting for them were a mess. Their beards were long and unkempt. Their clothes were made from scraps of old cloth and makeshift armor. They glared at both Maggie and Drake as if they wanted to hurl them into the purple sludge below. Maggie slowly raised the small square device containing their funds. She’d been sure to have it handy so she wasn’t reaching into any pockets and startling the men.
“Close enough,” one man said.
Maggie and Drake stopped. The other man stepped up to them and took the card. He waved it over a device on his wrist and watched it for a moment. Then he gave the card to the first man. The bay door on their aerial vehicle opened and a large, square machine drifted down the ramp to hover above the rocky terrain.
The two men closest to them stared at Drake, specifically the big gun held across his belly. The wind howled and tugged at Maggie’s short jacket and long hair. In the near distance, ugly red clouds produced sporadic bursts of lightning. The hovering machine slowly carried its load from the AV to Maggie’s spaceship. No one said a word.
Then one of the men cried out in surprise and pain. A long, thin blade suddenly protruded from his chest as if he’d been stabbed from behind. Maggie could see the bloody outline of the blade clearly, then slowly the actual metal became visible. The man fell to the ground and took the blade with him. Maggie briefly saw the silhouette of another man in his place, but then the shape disappeared.
The second smuggler was turning to see what was going on. Maggie stepped back and gasped when a long knife materialized in front of him and buried itself in his chest. “Mirthless!” Drake called out. He raised the flashgun to his shoulder, but he had nothing visible to shoot at.
The other nine men were beginning to react, but they didn’t know what was going on or what to do. Suddenly another outline of a man was standing near them holding a machine gun. He unloaded on the crew with fully automatic fire and dropped every single one of them. Maggie screamed briefly before she caught herself.
The closer attacker began to materialize in front of her. He was drawing a sidearm from his hip, and the quick motion was distorting his camouflage. Drake saw him and tried to adjust his aim, but it felt like everyone was moving in slow motion. Then a bolt of energy passed dangerously close overhead and blasted the assassin ten feet backward. His camouflage deactivated and Maggie could clearly see his mangled and burning corpse sprawled on the rocky ground. Maggie looked over her shoulder and saw the boat’s turret oscillating in search of targets.
“On the ship!” Drake shouted. He grabbed her arm and began to run.
“I have to get the cargo!” she protested.
They boarded the boat, and Drake closed the door behind them. “You’re not doing anything out there besides dying,” he explained. “Those guys are Mirthless, they have to be. They were probably contracted for one of the guys we’re meeting, but now we’re witnesses.”
Maggie rushed to the cockpit to see what was going on. “Good work, Alma,” she said.
“Thank you, captain,” the boat replied. “The number and nature of hostiles is unknown.”
“You can’t see them either?” Maggie asked.
“Their sensor suppression does not falter with movement like their spectrographic camouflage. I only see them when you see them.”
“Sounds like you need bait,” Drake said.
“They won’t fall for that for long,” Maggie complained. “They’ll be working on a way to keep us from taking off.”
“Doesn’t matter yet,” Drake replied. “Next step is loading the cargo.”
Alma interjected, “I can link with the pallet and reactivate it. Unfortunately the only way to load is to open the doors and have it hover aboard.”
“Can you drive the pallet and shoot at the same time,” Maggie asked.
“No, captain.”
“Can I operate the turret while you drive the pallet?”
“Yes, captain.”
Drake said, “It sounds like we’ve got it figured out. I’ll be in the hold with the flashgun.”
“Be careful,” Maggie told him. “Or at least scream really loud when they kill you so we know they’re on board.”
The pallet began moving toward the spaceship again. There was no sign of the attackers. Maggie supposed they might have left, but she didn't think that was likely, especially if Drake was right about them being assassins. She moved the turret back and forth smoothly, carefully watching the monitor. Drake’s voice came over the intercom. saying, “I’m in the cargo hold. Let me know when you’re going to open the doors.”
The pallet drifted closer without incident. Maggie activated the intercom and said, “I can’t see anyone yet, but the cargo is here.”
She opened the door, and the ramp slid slowly toward the ugly surface of the planet. She spared a glance at the camera monitoring the cargo hold. Drake stood there with his gun in a low ready position. He stared intently into the space beyond the open door. Maggie heard gunfire faintly somewhere behind her. On the monitor, Drake ducked low and returned fire. The bright light from the flashgun made it hard to see what was happening. She turned her attention back to the turret.
Movement caught her eye and she centered the camera on it. An assassin was taking cover behind a large rock. As she watched, the camouflage settled and the man disappeared from view. She didn’t hear anymore shooting, but then the man behind the rock stood up. He raised his gun to his shoulder and moved cautiously but calmly toward the boat. A few more steps and he’d be too close for the turret to get an angle on him, so Maggie pulled the trigger. Most of the assassin disappeared.
She looked at the cargo camera and saw Drake had lost control of his flashgun. He was fighting another assassin hand to hand. She drew her pistol and stood up, but in that moment Drake landed a solid blow against the side of his attacker’s head. It put just enough space between them for Drake to draw his pistol and fire several rounds into the man’s chest one-handed. The assassin fell to the deck of the cargo hold and the hovering pallet slowly made its way up the ramp.
With Alma focused on the pallet, Maggie began the preflight checks. Drake dumped the dead or dying assassin off the side of the ramp and hit the button to close the door as the pallet settled into place.
“Cargo secure, Captain,” Alma said.
“Let’s get out of here,” Maggie ordered.
Drake returned to the cockpit holding his flashgun and covered in blood. “Get out of the atmosphere in case someone has eyes on us,” he said.
Maggie asked, “Don’t you want a ride home?”
“My business can wait,” Drake told her. “I do need a shower though?”
***
It took a few days to reach the Providence Tenement. Drake washed his clothes, but the assassin’s blood had stained his shirt. Maggie hardly slept, but Drake threw a blanket on the floor and napped lightly for a few hours every time the cabin lights dimmed for the artificial daily cycle. Eventually though, the space station came into view. This time Maggie contacted the commercial port authority and got permission to land inside a giant docking bay instead of an individual airlock.
Maggie didn’t bother trying to connect to the tenement’s guidance system this time. She flew the boat into the port and waited for the giant room to pressurize. She said, “Alma, moderate alert.”
“Aye, captain,” Alma replied.
Half a dozen men filed into the bay. “Where’s your friend?” Drake asked.
“Good question,” Maggie replied. She activated the loudspeaker to address the men outside. “This is Magnolia Blume, captain of the Alma. I will deliver the cargo when I see that payment is available.”
One of the men chuckled quietly. “Other way around. We’re good for it.”
“I’ll go talk to them,” Drake said. He took up his flashgun.
Maggie turned back to the speaker and said, “My first mate is coming to discuss the situation.”
“Do I get a salary with that commission?” Drake asked.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Shut up and go intimidate my enemies please.”
“Aye, captain,” he answered cheekily.
Drake descended the passenger ramp slowly, sizing up the six men in front of him. He didn’t expect things to go wrong, but he needed to know who to shoot first. “Gentlemen,” he said, “we went through a lot to secure this cargo. I can assure you we aren’t going to jeopardize the mission at the eleventh hour. I just want to get this behind me and take up a job that actually pays.”
All eyes were on him, taking in the big gun and the dried blood on his shirt. Then the foremost turret moved just enough to get their attention. One man actually took a step back. The man who had spoken before muttered something Drake couldn’t hear and the door behind them opened. Natalie stepped through cautiously and stopped just in front of the line of men. “That’s all we wanted,” Drake said.
The cargo door began to open. Drake backed up to where the ramp would descend without taking his eyes off of the goons. The pallet slowly made its way to the deck of the port, and the giant container began to drift toward a spot marked on the floor. Drake gestured for Natalie to come, and she did. The line of men let her.
“Hi, Natalie,” he said, never taking his eyes off of the men. “I’m Drake. Maggie is waiting for you onboard.”
“Thank you,” Natalie said quietly before ascending the passenger ramp. Drake waited until the lead goon inspected the cargo container, then he followed Natalie up the ramp and closed the door behind them.
The exterior speaker came to life again, and Maggie said, “Tell Mr. Underwood we appreciate his business.”
Natalie sat down beside her, and Drake disappeared into the galley. “We’ll get you a new ship soon,” Maggie told her. Natalie nodded absently and sank into her seat. Tears of relief began to stream down her face silently. Maggie pulled her close enough for her to rest her head on Maggie’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” Natalie managed to whisper hoarsely.
A bored voice came over the speaker saying “Commercial vessel Alma, your bay is ready for depressurization.”
Maggie called out, “Drake, you’re here, right?”
“Yep.”
Natalie sat up in her own seat, and Maggie said, “Commercial vessel Alma ready for departure.”
The bay depressurized, and the outer door opened. Maggie was pretty sure at that point that Underwood wasn’t going to try anything, but she didn’t really relax until the space station was out of sight.
They were safely on their way to take Drake back to Sheol and figure out what Natalie would do next. Maggie was aware that she had no idea what was in the container, but she couldn’t claim to be remotely curious about it. Getting Natalie out of there was priceless, but she hadn’t even been paid, so she couldn’t really consider it a job.
She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. She’d barely rested for a week, so she stretched and yawned and kicked her legs far out in front of her. “Wake me up if anything interesting happens,” she said.