Chapter Three

Bad News

The charts provided by the strange Captain Blagden and his crew did not paint a very pretty picture. Their system was blockaded by well over one hundred fifty ships, most of them cruisers or even capital ships.

“They are only blockading us on three sides,” Salem noted, her elegant finger tapping insistently on the one jump point not covered by enemy ships. It was the jump point that had brought them to this system in the first place.

“They have no idea that jump point even exists,” Balgden said, taking a few notes on its position while trying to hide his hands behind his back.

“Salem, give Captain Blagden the information we have on the jump point,” Nellie said with a small smile. “Although I warn you, Captain, that jump point does not seem to lead anywhere other than the sectors.”

“That might not be true,” Paren added thoughtfully.

Everyone stopped and looked at her.

“The Last Chances used it to go somewhere else, right?” Paren offered. “When we first arrived, they almost took out the arc.”

“She might be right,” Blagden offered into the silence. “There are theories regarding the jump points having connected points that you can head straight into.” He looked around the silent room. “Hello?”

“Sorry,” Nellie smiled. “We were talking it over.”

“You where?”

“It’s a nanite thing,” Paren offered.

“Handy,” Blagden offered.

“You have no idea,” Remy grinned.

“Back on the subject at hand, please,” Nellie said quickly. “Captain, did you hear of any areas being raided by a ship with the ID Last Chances?”

“I’m afraid not,” Blagden said, doing his best to sit in one of the chairs. His elongated frame did not even remotely fit, and his knees ended up by his ears as he struggled to find a comfortable position.

“Allow me,” Salem said, gesturing for him to stand.

Once he had, Salem made some vague gestures in the air before nodding to something on her implant. The chair shifted back from the table, rising and elongating as it did so.

“Try that,” Salem offered.

Blagden settled gratefully into the chair and seemed pleasantly surprised. It was clearly a much better fit.

“Now that the blockade issue is settled,” Blagden said a little later, “May we turn to matters of business?”

“Certainly,” Salem replied as Nellie sat back to watch. On these kinds of matters, she preferred Salem to take the lead. It was easy enough to prompt her if needed. Which it rarely was these days. The more people she had, the more Nellie found herself delegating things to others. There was simply no way one person could do everything, and Nellie was actually okay with that. Her people were not only good, they had a diverse range of skills, and it would be ridiculous for Nell to ignore that.

Even if it did burn a little at times.

“We can get you just about anything you could want,” Blagden said proudly. “You need a rare metal? We are who you need. You need a shipment of food? Look no further than the Siren.”

“Food and materials are not a problem for us,” Salem shook her head. “We have an entire system of raw materials and plenty of farmland available.”

“I see,” Blagden nodded. “Yet there must be something you do want.”

“Of course,” Salem glanced at Nellie, who nodded. There was no actual harm in confiding in the Captain a little. As long as they assumed anything they DID say would be shared or sold to the enemy, they would be fine. “We have two main needs at the moment. First, we require information on the blockading fleets. These rough projections and details are not enough to plan a counter strategy.”

“No, no, no,” Blagden waved one of his hands in dismissal. Nellie noticed the long fingers seemed to bend slightly as he did so. Just how thin and flexible were these creatures’ bones? “I am no spy. I don’t mind sharing what we happened to already know, but I will not risk my crew being caught spying on a military fleet.”

“Understandable,” Salem nodded. “That leaves personnel. We can always use more people.”

“Now that I can do,” Blagden smiled, revealing sharp-looking teeth that reminded Nellie of a shark. “Are you looking for recruits or slaves?”

“You can supply both?” Salem asked blandly.

“We can,” Blagden nodded. “Recruits are expensive, you understand. They require salaries and compensation, not to mention relocation bonuses and more. If you make up offer packets for whatever you need, we can get you five people a trip. Less if they bring families. It could be as few as one.”

“And slaves?” Salem asked.

“Cheaper and easier,” Blagden smiled and leaned forward. “I can purchase them myself and exchange them here for materials. I can also transport many more. Up to twenty a trip. Fifty if you are not too fussy about their conditions during shipping.”

“What if we wanted the more affordable type of slave,” Salem asked after a quick consultation with Nellie. “The sick, disabled, or otherwise unwanted.”

“Testing stock?” Blagden frowned. “I do not usually take such as them. I try not to push my morals on others, but the idea of testing on sentient creatures is uncomfortable to me.”

“You misunderstand,” Salem said firmly. “We do not intend to test things on them. We intend to fix them.”

“Fix?” Blagden stroked his chin thoughtfully. The ruby-red skin stretched, and the entire chin seemed almost detached from the rest of the skull. It was an unsettling sight, even to people who spent time around Paren and her creatures. “You want the unwanted in order to make them better?”

“Precisely,” Salem nodded.

“You want grateful ones!” Blagden laughed happily. “I like that. That is good business. Very good business indeed.” His eyes twinkled merrily as he settled back into his chair a little more. “Loyalty is so much better than a knife in the dark or a lash in the hand, is it not?”

“I am glad to see we understand each other,” Salem smiled, and Nellie wondered if the man would be quite so merry if he knew what Salem would like to do to someone who traded in slaves.

“Remy, I want that crew watched at all times,” Salem told her security chief shortly after the merry Captain was escorted back to his ship. “If he makes so much as a wrong turn, detain them all.”

“Understood,” Remy strode out of the conference room, his hands locked behind his back. It was a common tactic for him when he wanted to strangle someone.

“You did well there,” Nellie complimented Salem once they were alone. “Keeping as calm as that.”

“You didn’t react at all,” Salem said with a sigh. “I don’t know how you manage to do that.”

“She cheats and freezes her facial muscles,” Lucy laughed over the speakers in the room. “Plus, she had the orbital defense lasers targeting the Syren from the moment Blagden said the word ‘Slaves.’ Not that I blame her.”

“I practically had to have the nanites bind me to my chair to stop myself throttling the git,” Nellie admitted. “But we need people, and if our only option is a slave trader, then so be it.”

“Not a long-term solution,” Salem admitted. “But better with us, who will free them, than with someone else.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Like the I.E.S. bastards,” Lucy said coldly.

“Quite,” Salem nodded. “Well, if that is all, I think I need a shower.”

Nellie stood and followed Salem out, waving goodbye as she hurried toward her own quarters for a much-needed moment of privacy. Just sitting alone for a few minutes sometimes felt like a holiday, and she really needed time to think before the next amazing crisis turned up.

Somehow, they always came in groups.

Flopping bonelessly into her favorite chair—an overstuffed and slightly stained thing recovered from the Embassy after the fighting that still had the faint marks from Banjo’s constant fidgeting—Nellie tried to clear her mind enough to think things through.

Queen Nellie, Admiral Nellie, Captain Nellie—all of it sounded very official. The problem was that she still felt very aware of Nellie the Orphan—Nellie, the girl crying alone in the dark. Being raised by a bunch of nuns, no matter how eccentric was no preparation for running a nascent empire. Imperium, whatever.

So much had happened, and so quickly, that she still hadn’t adjusted to the trauma before the trauma before the last one.

There had been a brief moment on the original Bly when she felt like she was exactly where she wanted to be and totally in control. That had been an excellent five minutes.

Ever since then, it felt like freefall, occasionally literally. It had just all happened so quickly, and one thing just led naturally to the next. Hunted? Find somewhere to hide. Paren in trouble? Free her. Dying? Drone her.

Find a place to blend in and buy a scrapyard. The next thing she knew, Nellie found herself trying to hold a whole area together, gathering the lost and alone to her because no one else would, and she knew how it felt to be them.

This system was supposed to be her fresh start—a place to calmly and peacefully exist. Now, she was at war with the Imperial Line, had a space station sharing the orbit of a moon containing a society so alien and advanced that they appeared to be impervious to everything, and the FUCKING EGG WAS A GATE TO ANOTHER UNIVERSE!

Nellie sat forward, trying to calm herself down.

Leaning her forehead on the cold metal of the table in front of her helped a little. That Explorer thing could download all the information it wanted into her head; it didn’t help her feel any less fucking swamped.

Once her breathing had returned to normal, once every twenty minutes or so,

Nellie put everything else aside and focused on the problem at hand—a blockade of ships around her system.

At first glance, who cared?

Let the Imperial Line sit out there for the next couple of decades; she would spend the time happily preparing.

Only they wouldn’t do that. At some point, they would start poking about in the system, looking for ways to cause problems, gauging the risk of invasion. So, that only left a binary set of solutions.

They either packed up and headed back to the Sectors, where they might be strong enough to survive now, or fought to keep what they had.

Fight or flight. A one or a zero.

Outnumbered, outgunned, and in a hopeless situation, there was only one thing she could do.

“Ostie, Bonne Chance, can you never take the easy option?” Nellie chuckled bitterly to herself. It was a severe character flaw, it really was, but Nell could just not find an ounce of ‘run away’ in her.

Draining the last of her can of Hyperdrive—the last one she had—Nellie flicked it into the recycling can and relaxed back into the chair again. Just making the decision helped.

Integration 90%

HyperDrive recipe unlocked!

Vive La Imperium!

Nellie threw back her head and laughed.

===<<<>>>===

One of the advantages of having four legs, Paren thought as she reared back and kicked the stubborn piece of equipment until it gave in and slid into place, was that you always had a spare leg to kick things with.

Running a critical eye over the stuffed hold of the Indomitable, she decided anything else would have to go in the Orb that was going to follow them over to the planet. Pack light was a great idea, in theory, but it ultimately failed to take into account how much equipment she actually needed.

Sure, Nellie could just do everything with nanites, but with no offense intended, Mum just didn’t need to do anything that complicated. There was just no such thing as a ‘small’ gene resequence unit or a supply of ready flesh that could be guaranteed to supply itself at the right moment.

Rare metals were, well, rare. They did not just lay around waiting for a passing scientist to need them, no matter what was happening on the egg planet.

And there was a whole world, just waiting for her.

“How does one enter the craft?” Robot asked, arriving with a crate of spare arms and legs. “Also, may I bring these spares?”

“Oh, sure,” Paren squinted. “You can take that crate out on the left. Third row, middle.”

“Thank you, Friend Paren,” Robot said, pulling out the crate she indicated. Everything was fine until the lid popped off as he dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. As it clattered to the floor, the contents became visible.

“Ignore that,” Paren said quickly but was just a hair too slow.

“This appears to be human skin?” Robot asked tensely. “And flesh.”

The perfectly square lump of flesh was a healthy-looking pink color, with a few darker patches here and there. Fine hairs had sprouted from several areas.

“Relax,” Paren hurriedly slammed the lid back on. “It is just some spare flesh from the bodies we had. I thought it might come in handy.”

“It is a person?” Robot asked his voice icy calm.

“No!” Paren hissed angrily. “It isn’t even a body. Just recycled flesh with a few devices to keep it from rotting.”

“Oh,” Robot relaxed. “It no longer appears dead. Can you do that to a person as well?”

“Shhh!” Paren slapped a hand over his mouth, which was completely pointless as there wasn’t a person in the bay who actually used vocal cords to talk, herself included. “Salem gets all touchy about the whole reanimation aspect of my current project.”

“I believe she is worried about you being burned alive or perhaps hunted across the galaxy in some sort of religious fit,” The Girl stalked into the bay with a smile. “People get very uneasy about the dead returning to life.”

“Why?” Paren asked challengingly, “What could possibly be the downside?”

“They might be the ones who made them dead for a start.” The Girl nodded to the crate. “I wouldn’t leave that here when we leave. Salem will blow a fuse.”

“Everyone has a hobby,” Paren laughed, “And that is hers.” She whistled sharply, and three large crawlers emerged from the nearby vents, quickly consuming the crate. “How much space do you need for your stuff?”

“Stuff?” The Girl asked. “I have it all with me.” A familiar small backpack hung from one shoulder, bedecked in small fluffy toys.

“That is all you are bringing?” Paren frowned. “You know we are going to be down there for months, right?”

“The challenge is the fun,” The Girl smiled. “Nothing but the basics.”

“Right,” Paren nodded, kicking another pair of crates until the Indomitable reported it would be able to seal the bay doors. “The very basics.”

“I repeat, how do we enter the craft?” Robot asked.

“Uhh,” Paren sighed. “This might take a while.”

The cargo bay doors opened again, revealing a solid wall of tightly packed gear.

“Paren?” The Girl called. “Side door, remember?”

“Right!” Paren blushed. “Hey! We always used the bay doors. It’s not my fault I didn’t remember the other one!”

“Is there any space you have not used?” The Girl asked as she squeezed in between some lumpy forms to wedge herself into what was left of the co-pilot seat.

“I left the shower free,” Paren said defensively. “It could damage the equipment.”

“This feels unsafe,” Robot said carefully as he tried to find a way to get through the door. “Can this shuttle fly with all of this?”

“Of course,” Paren nodded with absolute certainty. “I’ve done the math.”

“Nevertheless, perhaps I should ride in the Orb.” Robot offered.

“No!” both girls yelled.

“You are not going in a separate ship!” Paren snapped. “We all go together.”

“If you are sure,” Robot said warily.

“The shower is free,” The Girl offered. “Probably the biggest open space in this entire ship.”

“Will you quit complaining?” Paren huffed. “Just because you can’t ride in the vents!”

“I still say it would be safe enough,” The Girl eyed the stacked gear. “Probably safer.”

“They are unavailable,” Paren said quickly.

The Girl sighed heavily as she flicked open the nearest vent and found the silvered smile of a crawler staring at her.

“Seriously?”

“What? They would miss their mummy,” Paren said and cooed at the

glistening mandibles and beady black eyes.

“I believe we should get underway.” Robot offered. “I think Salem saw the crate.”

“What?” Paren looked at the outer sensors and saw the quickly moving figure approaching in a rage. “Oh! Right, hang on, everyone!”

The Indomitable wobbled out of the landing bay a few seconds before Salem could get to the airlock, and all the station Grav Tow projectors malfunctioned at the exact same time, allowing them to get out and into space before the wrath of Salem could get hold of them.

That isn’t to say there wasn’t a short, expletive-laden exchange over the comm line, but they continued regardless.

Paren did not quite pull rank, but Salem was a drone, and Paren was the Prime Drone. There were simply limits to that relationship. Lucy might have gotten involved, but she was distracted by the message box that had just popped out of the egg and directed Salem’s enraged requests to Nellie, who was currently having an anxiety attack in her apartment.

By the time Nellie got the messages, Paren and the Indomitable were safely aboard the Talon and on their way to the only habitable planet in the system.

Nellie did call them to order them back, but the ensuing argument resulted in the first time Paren had ever called Nellie ‘Mum.’ It was accidental, having just slipped out, but it sort of melted her heart, so Paren and crew were allowed on their way to their first-ever solo expedition.

It included a Prime Drone, who was quite possibly the most intelligent person in decades, an expert shape-shifting assassin, a cyborg of uncertain sanity levels, and enough technology to run an entire civilization. Oh, and several million nanites. In short, Nellie was not too worried about anything happening TO them, even if she was a bit worried about them happening TO something else.

Still, everyone deserved a holiday…