Cyber Dreams 4.35 - Gift from a Ghost

Okay, here we go! Enjoy~

-Plum

When Juliet returned to the Humpback, her ill-gotten cargo ship, she was a little surprised not to find any pirates left behind to keep tabs on her. She could see they’d been aboard, and Angel had the video footage and airlock logs to show they’d offloaded the wine cargo. Still wearing her helmet as she walked through the deserted corridors to the ship's mess hall, she asked, “They didn’t muck around with any of the systems? Didn’t leave any bugs behind?”

“No. I was watching them the entire time, and Fido was here. He would have noticed a data intrusion.”

“What about the bodies?”

“Two of the personnel sent to offload the wine stood outside the airlock and looked in on them, but, as you requested, I disabled those doors. The bodies are still there, untouched. Have you decided what you’ll do with them?”

“Not yet,” Juliet sighed as she unsealed her helmet and pulled it off her head. “I just know I can’t space those people, and I can’t leave this ship here for the pirates to dispose of them. I feel like I need to figure out a way to make Sir Rodric choke on what he’s done.”

In the ship’s sizeable mess hall, she spent some time going through the stainless-steel cabinets, digging through the foodstuffs, trying to find something she could “dust” the plastic cup with for fingerprints. She ended up using a ten-year-old box of vanilla cake mix. With Angel’s guidance, she carefully measured a small amount of the powder onto her palm and then blew it over the cup with a puff of breath. She did that from every angle, and almost immediately, even she could pick out the prints on the cup. Some were smeared and incomplete, so Angel instructed her to gently fill in and distribute the powder with a makeup brush.

“You think you can reconstruct these well enough to pass a biometric scan?” She slowly turned the cup, waiting for Angel to finish copying what she’d revealed.

“Definitely. I already have the basis for the code from the remappable cybernetic prints you’ve had in the past and the version that came with your new hand. Using those as a reference, I’ve developed an algorithm to reconstruct Sharkey’s prints from these detailed images. I have what I need, by the way.”

“Ah, cool.” Juliet set the cup down, then selected Nick on their encrypted comm channel. “Hey, did they get back to you with an exact time yet?”

“Hey, yourself! Nah, I’m still waiting for the details. They just said it would be soon, whatever that means. I’ll contact you as soon as I know. How’d things go on the base?”

“Good. Making some headway. She’s definitely here, by the way. Don’t say anything out loud, though. I’m not sure your ship’s not bugged.”

“Oh? Should you come visit, maybe? Check it out?” Juliet hated how hopeful he sounded, twisting her gut a little with guilt. Why did she feel guilty that he was attracted to her? The thought came out of nowhere, and she frowned, glad their connection was only audio.

“I’ll come by after our meeting. They say anything about guns? Can I bring mine?”

“They didn’t say.”

“Right. I’ll wait for word from you, then.” Juliet cut the comm link and sat down with a groan. “Angel, why do I feel guilty that Nick is attracted to me?”

“Are you sure it’s guilt and not sympathy? Or, if it is guilt, is it because you’re also attracted to him but don’t want to act on it for reasons that might feel selfish?” Angel’s direct bullseye caught Juliet off guard, and she flopped forward onto the table, resting her head on her arms, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted.

“Yeah, he’s a cool, handsome guy with a big, good heart. Is it selfish not to want to start something up with a forty-something guy who lives on a moon in the Jovian system, though? Should I be like that merc who broke into my hotel room and have an ongoing relationship on every planet? That’s not me. I’m . . . human, though.”

“I think part of your guilt or reticence is that you’ve picked up Nick’s thoughts, and you know how he feels. You know you could take advantage of that if you wanted. It took the spontaneity and mystery out of the possibility.”

“Shit, Angel, again, with the perfect hit! Yeah, I think I’d much rather not have ever caught any of those thoughts—yet another reason I sometimes wish I didn’t have this ability. I have to get better at not hearing thoughts I’m not looking for. What’ll I do if I start to realize someone on the Kowashi has the hots for me? Talk about awkward.”

“Your practice over the last month or two seems to have made accessing thoughts easier, but, as you said, sometimes too easy. I wonder if more control will come with more time and practice.”

Juliet forced herself up from the table, tromping through the empty, dirty corridors of the ship toward the crew habitation area. She wanted a shower before she went to meet with the pirate boss or bosses. When she stepped into the communal shower room, a space very similar to the one on the Kowashi, she almost turned around, however. The crew's toiletries, towels, and other belongings scattered here and there made her feel like she was desecrating a graveyard. Still, she stepped over to one of the benches, picked up a pair of pink plastic shower shoes, and carried them to an empty locker. As she set them inside, she was struck by a very different kind of guilt, so she took them out again and put them back where she’d found them. “I’m sorry,” she said to the ghosts lingering nearby.

Juliet took her time stripping out of her armor and clothes. Then she stood under the hot spray of the shower for what felt like a very long time, trusting that she could get ready fast enough if Nick contacted her. The hot water felt too good, the pounding of it on her scalp too calming, for her to give it up quickly. She let her mind wander, trying to categorize all of her problems, all of her priorities, all of her dreams and regrets. By the time she finally turned the water off and dried herself off, she had wrinkled, waterlogged fingers. She felt better but didn’t think she’d solved many of her problems. Even so, as she pulled on her pants, she said, “Let’s keep an eye out for an access port when we’re taken to Nick’s meeting. Do you think Fido’s ready to do his thing again, like he did at Port Security on New Atlas?”

“Yes. I’ll just need a quick connection to drop him off. I’ve been refining his coding, and he’s learned quite a lot since then.”

“Heh, sweet.” Juliet sat to pull her socks and boots on, and then Nick’s comm line lit up.

“Yo, just had a chat with our buddy, TC.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s going to guide us to the dinner. Yeah, I found out it’s a dinner, and there are probably going to be other bigwigs in the pirate club there. Anyway, we’ve got a couple of hours to kill.”

“Huh, hours?” Juliet had moved on from her boots and was starting to shrug into the top half of her combat armor. At Nick’s words, she stopped short and set it down.

“Yeah. So, TC had some advice for us . . .”

“What’s with the pause?”

“He told me they’re expecting you at the dinner, but he also hinted that it wouldn’t really be cool for you to show up like you’re about to drop into an urban combat operation. He suggested one sidearm for each of us and a lot less armor. Something about people finding it odd if you were trying to have dinner with your helmet on.”

“Come on, Simon,” Juliet emphasized his fake name, feeling somewhat irritated. “I didn’t pack any other clothes! You know that’s not TC talking. I’m sure we’ve been observed as we walked around the station. Some pirate wants to take me down a peg. Maybe the one who boarded us at the start . . .”

“Who? Allie? Nah, she seemed pretty cool . . .”

“Maybe with you. Forget that, Nick, what am I supposed to wear? I’ve got tights and a tank top on under this armor. I didn’t see this being a long engagement.”

“What about the crew? I bet there’s something on that ship you can wear.”

Juliet frowned, scowled, really, and let her gaze drift over to the pink shower slippers. “I don’t think I’d feel very good about that.”

“You didn’t kill those people. And, yeah, I’m subvocalizing, don’t worry. Anyway, you didn’t kill ‘em, and, in fact, you’re going to try to bring them justice. I doubt they’d begrudge you a shirt if you wanted to borrow one. I mean, if they care at all, considering . . . you know.” Juliet could tell Nick was trying to be reasonable while respecting her feelings, and her anger and irritation began to defuse.

“I’ll see what I can come up with. Talk soon, ‘kay?”

“Right! Thanks, Lacy.”

As the comm line grayed out, Juliet stood, gathered her stuff, and walked back to the hallway, glancing left and right. “Which way to the crew cabins?” Her minimap flashed with an updated path, and she turned to the right, following it. It was a short walk, which made sense—why put the showers far from the cabins? At the next hallway, she could see ten identical doors on either side of the junction. While they were all the same in size and spacing, many of them had hand-painted names and art on them; someone from the old crew must have had an artistic flair and had personalized the doors for each crew member.

Juliet walked toward the third door on the right; it was colorfully painted with stars and moons, and the name at the center was decoratively written with big curlicues. “Star?” Juliet rested a hand on the door, debating with herself again if she wanted to go inside. Was it worth it? She could get by in her tank top. Why was she so nervous about opening the door? Was she worried she’d learn more about the victims on the ship? Shouldn’t she learn more? How would she feel in Star’s place, assuming she could feel anything? “I’d want the creep who killed me caught, and I’d do anything I could to help the person planning to do it.”

“I feel the same.”

“Okay, Angel, open the door.” With a hiss and the grind of runners needing some maintenance, the door slid open, and Juliet stepped into Star’s room. “Woah . . .” The little cabin had three pieces of furniture: a low-end acceleration couch that probably wouldn’t help with anything significantly over one G, an aluminum dresser bolted to the wall, and a matching nightstand bolted next to the couch. Aside from the furniture, Juliet was bombarded with stimuli—one entire wall was a mural of Saturn as seen from a ship orbiting Titan. Even the domes of New Atlas were depicted on the moon. “You think Star did all this art?”

“This door was the most decorated of those in the hallway.”

“Yeah.” Juliet let her eyes drift away from the mural to the piles of clothes, data cartridges, stacks of little boxes, knick-knacks, photos, posters, half-finished snack packages, and even a crate of beer cans with a variety of labels. Juliet took a minute to study the photos, noting that most featured the same young woman taking a picture with other people. She had short green hair, pretty neon-blue eyes, and a smile that really lit up the shot, stealing attention from everything else.

“It’s rather uncommon for people to have so many physical photos.”

“Something tells me Star wasn’t very common.” Juliet found tears pooling in her eyes as she mentally matched that girl’s face with one of the corpses in the airlock. She forced herself to look away, moving over to the dresser. Atop it, Star had an incense burner piled with ash, and next to a little box of incense, Juliet found a plastic carry-tote filled with painting supplies, confirming she’d been the resident door artist. Feeling a little ghoulish and more than a little sad, Juliet opened the dresser and started going through Star’s clothing. After a bit of perusing, it became clear that whoever she’d been, she’d had a pretty cool style.

Juliet found a pair of faded, stretchy jeans that weren’t exactly a perfect fit, but they stretched enough to be comfortable. Even better, she found an old-school jean jacket with a pattern of stitched-on gold and silver stars on the upper back. It was cut to fall just to a person’s waist, at least on Juliet, and the sleeves were designed to end somewhere about mid-forearm, so it felt natural and comfortable when Juliet rolled them up past her elbows. Best of all, it was real, well-worn denim, heavy and soft, and Juliet felt damn cool wearing it.

She found a mirror on the back of Star’s door and stood, looking at herself. “Too much denim?”

“No, you look good. I like how your combat boots look with the jeans tucked in, and your gun belt breaks up the denim. The jacket’s darker than the pants, anyway.”

“Yeah.” Juliet still wore her gray tank top, figuring it looked fine under the jacket, and it was comfortable, being so lightweight. The pirate base had climate control, but she’d been quite warm in parts of it. “Pretty cool how the stars in my eyes match the jacket’s. Shit, Angel, why’d I pick stars for eyes? You think I had some kind of premonition about all this? You think Star was fated to get killed just ‘cause I accepted this mission . . .”

“You’re going to drive yourself crazy with thoughts like that. Star is dead because a sociopathic billionaire decided to liquidate the crew of this ship.”

“Right. Thanks.” Juliet took one more long look at herself, then bent to pick up her belongings and leave. “Thank you, Star. I won’t let you be forgotten so easily.” As she walked down the hallway, back toward the mess hall, lugging her armor, tactical vest, and extra guns and ammo, she passed by a cabin door without any name art. “Open this one, please.” Angel complied, and Juliet stepped into a room exactly like Star’s, only it was totally empty. “Oh, perfect; I’ll have to sleep somewhere. At least this one might not be haunted.” She dumped her armload onto the acceleration couch, then straightened up, adjusting her gun belt.

“Let’s see, seven rounds in the pistol, twenty-one on the belt. I’ll feel better if I bring this.” She picked up her vibroblade and tucked it inside her right boot. “How much time do I have?”

“More than an hour.”

“Ugh! I hate being ready so early!” Juliet took a few minutes to organize her things, tucking them into the dresser, then reclined in the acceleration couch. “You reset all the access codes to the ship, right?”

“Yes, as soon as the cargo was off-loaded and the pirates left.”

“Okay, good.” Juliet closed her eyes, wondering if a nap would be possible. When her lids grew heavy, and she felt herself drifting, she smiled and sleepily said, “Make sure you wake me when Nick’s ready.” She sank back into the couch’s embrace and, despite all she had on her mind, rapidly drifted away, dreaming short, scattered dreams about wandering through corridors, alternately feeling like she was looking for something or someone was looking for her.

When Angel spoke into her implants, waking her, it felt like she’d closed her eyes for just a minute, but more than an hour had passed. “Nick and TC are waiting outside the airlock.” Juliet felt a little disoriented, but she grunted and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She stood, adjusted her belt again, then hurried out of the room.

“I, uh, am not sure that nap was a good idea. I feel groggy as hell.”

“Hopefully, you’ll get a good night’s sleep soon . . .”

“Yeah. Here’s hoping. Okay, time to get my game face on. I’m Lacy Blake, and I don’t take shit from anyone.” She clenched and unclenched her fists, shaking her head, squaring her shoulders, taking all the irritation and anger she’d felt in the last few days and projecting those feelings out of her scowling countenance. When she stepped out of the airlock, Nick gave her a double-take and actually took a step back.

“Hey, Lacy.” He jerked his head at TC, who stood beside him, face impassive. “TC and I just got here.”

“A pleasure to see you again, ma’am.” TC bent at the waist slightly.

Juliet frowned and nodded, hooking her left thumb in her gun belt, slouching one shoulder, and drumming the fingertips of her right hand against her Texan’s holster.

Nick smiled awkwardly and raised an eyebrow. “Ready?” Juliet grunted a vaguely affirmative sound, and he turned to the synth. “Off we go, TC.”

“Very good. Please follow me. Stay close and do not deviate from our course. We’ll be passing through restricted areas, and you could find yourself in some trouble if you aren’t with me or another escort.”

Juliet walked beside Nick behind the synth. When she’d first laid eyes on him, Nick’s outfit had made it easy to scowl; he was wearing his usual white button-up shirt but had it tucked into black slacks under a matching blazer. “A suit?” she rasped, frowning down at him as they walked.

“What? I don’t have a tie on . . .” When Juliet only continued to scowl, he said, “C’mon, I’m not the muscle of our little operation. I’m allowed to look nice.” His eyes opened wide, and his face paled by a full shade when he heard himself speak. “Oh, wait! I didn’t mean it like that. You look nice. You always look nice, Lacy!”

Juliet grunted and frowned, rather enjoying the charade. Was this little dinner supposed to intimidate them? Were this synth’s warnings about ‘trouble’ supposed to scare her?  Lacy Blake was a hard, mean bitch, and she was looking forward to sitting down with some pirate scum. One corner of her mouth lifted in a crooked, mad grin, and Nick blanched further and took a step to his left, widening the space between them.