Chapter Six

August 21, 2940

Bastien watched Cait as she reviewed the proposed shore leave schedule, her finger slowly scrolling down the data pad as she nodded silently to herself. He’d created the timetable shortly after learning of the captain’s plan and he was certain she would approve. Every member of the crew – all one hundred ninety former cadets – would have a six-hour window to visit and explore Freeport Gamma Tango over the next three days while the Grace loaded supplies and cargo for the next leg of her journey. Less than a sixth of the crew would be off-ship at any given moment, however, since Bastien didn’t want too many wandering the alien station and not at their posts. A huge portion of the crew out adventuring wouldn’t be ideal if a sudden emergency occurred and left the Grace without enough hands to manage it.

“Looks good to me,” Cait said as she handed the datapad back to Bastien. “You can strike me from the list, though, since I plan on staying onboard.”

“You do?” Bastien asked, surprised. “You’re not going to go to the station?”

“I’m not,” Cait affirmed. “I have a lot of work to do here.” She waved her hand around, indicating her office. “You have fun.”

Bastien wasn’t buying it. While there was plenty of administrative work to be done, a few hours on the space station wouldn’t be much of a disruption so Bastien had a hard time believing that Cait’s decision to stay on the Grace was motivated by pending paperwork. Perhaps Cait didn’t want to leave the ship in case there was trouble? Unlikely, Bastien thought, as she had gone off-ship after they had docked at Freeport Mauve. “You sure?” he asked, seeing if she might provide more insight into her decision. “The ship will be fine while you’re gone.”

“I’m sure,” she said with a noticeably neutral tone before glancing at her desk’s monitor and pulling up a tactical report. “Anything else?”

“Nothing else,” Bastien answered slowly. “We’ve already coordinated picking up our new cargo and Dante told me a few minutes ago that the station has the requisite materials for him to build some new environmental filters. All that’s left to do is post the shore leave schedule and relax for a couple of days.”

“Good,” Cait said without looking at him. “Go ahead and do it.”

Standing, Bastien took another look around the office while wondering why Cait wasn’t interested in visiting the station. He made a mental note to discuss it with Safiya, the Chief Medical Officer the one best suited to keep an eye on the captain’s mental health. “Will do,” he said without voicing his thoughts out loud. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

*****

“So where should we go first?” Dante asked, the Grace’s chief engineer looking around the docking bay with wide eyes. Bastien noticed his friend was bouncing on the balls of his feet, obviously excited by the possibility of exploring the alien station. “Get something to eat? Do some shopping? I read that they have some kind of sports arena here and that there’s something that looks like basketball going on soon. We can check that out?” He looked at Bastien.

“I’m game for whatever,” Bastien responded with a grin and a shrug as various sentient aliens wandered past the ship’s airlock. “But just remember we don’t have a lot of credits.”

Dante snorted. “Yeah, the captain’s announcement made it seem like we’d have a ton of credits to spend. When I finally looked at my ship’s account…”

“You were a bit underwhelmed?” Bastien finished with a chuckle.

“More than a bit,” Dante responded dryly. Bastien nodded in sympathy. Cait had done as she had indicated, coordinating with Carpenter Boineau to create a financial account for each member of the crew and depositing some of the Grace’s earned credits within. However, with the Grace having only just started out as a trading vessel and with a large portion of their earnings already dedicated to ship supplies and new cargo acquisition, the amount each crewman saw within their account was decidedly lackluster. “I mean, she couldn’t give us more than fifty credits each?”

“I’m afraid not,” Bastien said, speaking as the first officer and not as Dante’s friend. “Too many other expenses. But,” he indicated with a raised finger, “that will change over time. Remember, we started off with a twenty-five thousand credit gift from the Syndicate and have already nearly tripled it. And with our cargo holds not even close to capacity, we are going to get to reinvest our earnings more and more over the next few months until we are hauling hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of credits worth of supplies at any given time.”

“And the crew will get a slice of that pie,” Dante continued with a nod. “I know. I know. I’m just looking forward to much larger paychecks. We’ve earned them, you know?”

“I know,” Bastien said, this time as a compatriot and not a commander. “Me too.”

“So how about we go get something to eat. The galley is doing a good job but it will be nice to try something new. Then we can hit the trade district and see what we want to pick up?”

“Sounds good.”

The boys headed off, working their way through the light crowd of the docking bay and toward the lifts that would lead to the commercial decks. Finding them was easy, thanks to the station’s map being available via IBP, and one crowded elevator later found Bastien and Dante walking along one of the commercial district’s main corridors. With empty space out the windows to their left and various businesses to their right, the two discussed the interesting opportunities available while wandering the alien station.

Freeport Gamma Tango orbited the system’s third gas giant and was the economic hub for the three inhabited moons nearby. Real estate developers, large-scale manufacturing conglomerates, pharmaceutical companies, trade guilds, and all manner of civilization-supporting businesses popped up along Bastien and Dante’s route and the two often stopped and utilized their link to the station to learn more about the system’s flourishing economy. There were other businesses as well, some more localized to a particular moon and others coordinating economic activity with neighboring systems.

Shortly after learning more about an asteroid mining association, Bastien and Dante discovered a nondescript eatery whose reviews, according to the station’s internal net, were glowing. They decided to stop. The food, to their delight, was a mixture of noodle and broth dishes filled with fresh vegetables and well-seasoned thinly sliced meats. The two ate with gusto, discussing quietly the interesting-looking aliens who were popping into the eatery for their own meal.

Twenty credits poorer and near full to bursting, Bastien and Dante meandered deeper into the station an hour later to peruse the bazaar. “Wow,” Dante exclaimed as the station tram opened up into the cavernous space and the sights and smells of the busy trade district washed over them. “This place is amazing!”

“It’s going to take a while to explore,” Bastien responded as he glanced about. The space was huge and, if his IBP was right, there were thousands of small independently owned and operated stalls selling all sorts of personal items. Colors and sounds filled the multi-deck area, the crowds of people moving about methodically as they shopped. Dozens of alien races mingled and bartered, something Bastien found to be amazing in its own right, and he quickly slipped into the crowd to do his own shopping. The nearest stall, Bastien noted, was selling handcrafted jewelry, and, as Dante joined him, he continued. “I was reading through Syndicate reports the other day and it seems like these kinds of places are pretty common on large spaceports.”

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“Bazaars?” Dante asked as he picked up a small crystalline ring. The shopkeeper, an ape-like creature with four eyes, watched them without interrupting.

“Yeah. Apparently, the cost of traveling from the local worlds to these stations is usually pretty low and that, coupled with a lot of interstellar travel, means bazaars like this can be profitable for independent merchants.” The two moved on from the jewelry stall to one selling metallic signs with humorous phrases etched on them. “So a lot of small-time merchants will rent a stall here in the spaceport’s bazaar and use it to sell their goods. If they do really well, they can even catch the eye of trade guilds or organizations like the Syndicate who might contract with them to move their goods out of the system.” The next stall featured finely woven rugs featuring colorful bird patterns.

“Maybe you and I should set up our own stall,” Dante chuckled. “Make a ton of credits for ourselves and cut the Grace out.”

Grinning at the thought, Bastien asked “And what would we sell?”

“I don’t know,” came the reply as the two moved on to a stall offering combs made from animal bone. “Maybe board games? Books? Something human, for sure, since it would be pretty unique.”

Bastien turned from the combs and looked at Dante. “That’s…. actually an interesting idea.”

“It is?” Dante asked. “I was only half kidding.”

Bastien shrugged. “Let’s talk it over later. Might be worth exploring.”

The next two hours went by quickly, with Bastien and Dante roaming around the bazaar and browsing its various goods. Dante ended up using a few of his credits to purchase a knit cap – explaining that his head sometimes became cold when he was working in engineering – while Bastien elected to save his credits. The two also chatted with various merchants and heard tales from enterprising entrepreneurs who had been regulars at the bazaar for years. They spotted a few other crewmen during their roam and it looked to Bastien as if everyone was enjoying the chance to stretch their legs and spend a few personal credits.

It was just as Bastien and Dante were making their way into the section of the bazaar that hosted food and drink stalls, eager to get something sweet on which to munch, that Bastien’s IBP alerted him that the Grace was attempting to make contact. Signaling to Dante that they needed a bit of privacy, the two found a less crowded row of stalls and Bastien put his hand over his ear while activating the communications device.

“This is Bastien,” he said while Dante kept watch.

“Commander Devereaux,” Captain Ó Faoláin responded. “I’m sorry to interrupt your shore leave but there has been an incident. You’re closer to it than I am so I’m sending the coordinates to you now.” Data appeared in Bastien’s IBP and he noted that the coordinates were only a few minutes away. “Can you look into it?”

“Happy to, Ser. What’s the nature of the incident?”

“I’m not totally certain. We received a message from Commander Ito that she and Lieutenant Commander Wright had been forced to call station security. When we responded to get more information, a coms block popped up followed by a station notification indicating two of our crew had been detained by station security and to standby for further information. As you know, we’re keeping track of all of our people and the two of them aren’t too far from you.”

“Understood. I’ll check it out. Bastien out.” Bastien gave Dante a meaningful look. “Shopping’s over.”

*****

The two officers moved swiftly through the crowd and toward the coordinates in Bastien’s IBP. Bastien had attempted, in the past minute, to contact Commander Ito and Lieutenant Commander Wright but, just as the captain had indicated, a coms block was in place. While Freeport Gamma Tango had allowed visitors to wander freely while onboard, the security notes sent over just prior to docking had been very clear that the station’s security reserved the right to use internal dampening fields to block communications should the need arise.

“And she didn’t know what the incident was?” Lieutenant Commander Saez asked for the third time.

“She didn’t,” Bastien responded. “But I can’t reach them so something has certainly happened. Just be prepared.”

The crowd thinned out near the edge of the bazaar and Bastien’s IBP informed him that this area would rapidly transition from stand-alone merchant stalls to drinking and gambling establishments. The area had not been off-limits to the crew, however, because station security had reported it as a low-crime region. Still, Bastien frowned as wondered what would possess Hiromi and Noah to head to the noticeably rougher-looking area. Speaking of, Bastien thought as he spotted his two subordinates down a corridor and surrounded by half a dozen members of station security. An unknown alien was lying on the floor, unmoving, while Lieutenant Wright was sitting on a bench and speaking with one of the security personnel. Commander Ito was standing and conversing with the alien who appeared to be in charge.

“—couldn’t tell. But when he grabbed my arm, that’s when my companion got involved.”

“And you are certain Mr. Wright didn’t initiate the physical encounter?” the alien commander asked.

Bastien redoubled his step, feeling Lieutenant Commander Saez right behind. “Commander?” Bastien asked as approached, catching everyone’s attention. “Is there a problem here?” The lead alien turned to regard him. About a foot taller than Bastien, the creature looked like a humanoid warthog and wore the professional attire of a security officer. His green and blue uniform was crisp and had several ribbons hanging from the jacket while the creature’s boots and sidearm – a rather dangerous-looking pulser – gleamed as if polished regularly.

“I am Senior Deputy Raash Ashkeet. You are with these individuals?” He gestured to Commander Ito and Lieutenant Commander Wright.

“I am,” Bastien responded curtly. “Commander Bastien Devereaux. First Officer on the Grace O’Malley. These are my people. May I ask what this is about?” Bastien looked to Hiromi but Senior Deputy Ashkeet spoke.

“It appears,” he said in a nasally chirping voice that Bastien’s IBP was quickly translated into Bastien’s own language within his mind, “that your people were involved in an altercation with a rather aggressive panhandler.”

“Panhandler?” Bastien asked with a frown.

“Yes,” Senior Deputy Ashkeet responded.

“Is this true, commander?” Bastien asked, turning to Commander Ito. She nodded. “What happened?”

“Noah and I were heading down this corridor toward a botanical garden we’d heard about,” she began, glancing up at the much taller alien. “As I was telling the senior deputy, that fellow— “ she pointed to the lizard-like humanoid on the deck “—was sitting against the wall and asked us for some spare credits. I told him we didn’t have any to spare as we walked by and, before I knew it, he’d jumped up behind us and grabbed me by the arm. He started demanding credits but Noah moved forward and hit him twice. He landed on the deck and didn’t move.”

“He is alive, albeit unconscious,” Senior Deputy Ashkeet added. “He should be fine in an hour or so.” Bastien looked around the pair and saw that one of the officers was squatting down over the prone alien, tapping away at a device that looked medical in nature.

“And then what happened?” Bastien asked firmly.

“Well, there were these other people nearby smoking on these pipe-looking things,” Commander Ito said, “and they started laughing. One of them said we should leave before security showed up but Noah didn’t even flinch. He sent a message to the station’s security through his IBP. After that, I reached out to the Grace and informed the captain but our communications were cut off.”

Bastien looked to the security officer. “Are you placing my people under arrest?” he asked, already thinking through what might need to happen if the other two officers were taken into custody. A headache, for sure.

“I am not,” Senior Deputy Ashkeet responded, much to Commander Ito’s obvious surprise.

“You’re not?” she asked.

“No. We know this man,” Senior Deputy Ashkeet said with a nod to the unconscious panhandler. “He’s a troublemaker. I also just received notice from our central station that the cameras in the corridor have been reviewed and match your version of events. As far as we are concerned, your companion, Mr. Wright, acted appropriately once physical force was used upon you. The fact that you called station security instead of leaving like the taka leaf smokers suggested was a good decision as well since leaving and not staying to report this incident would have constituted a minor offense.”

“Oh,” Commander Ito said, clearly relieved.

“I do recommend visiting the botanical garden,” the security officer said as he indicated to his team that they should get the downed agitator to a medical facility. “It’s quite lovely.”

“Thank you,” Commander Ito said as Lieutenant Commander Wright came to stand next to her. Senior Deputy Ashkeet nodded to them all before he and his people left with their unconscious burden. Bastien watched them leave.

Once gone, he turned to his three subordinate officers. “Who wants dessert?”