Chapter Seven
Despite how overwhelming it had been at first, Sketch found the feeling of being back around people extremely comforting. He gotten so used to just spending all his time on
The Praeteritus
that getting accustomed to random sounds happening suddenly around him again had required some adjustments, but now he was starting to feel like, well, more like he used to feel, way back before he was even a member of The Calm.
As much as he didn't want to relax, he found himself doing it despite himself. He'd gotten to know every single sound on
The Praeteritus
without needed to check on them anymore, and maybe he had been suffering from some hardcore cabin fever, having been unable to go down and mix with other people, to get freshly cooked food, to listen to musicians busking on the street corner.
Now that he could live among people again, he didn't want to leave, even though he knew that he must.
The soft life was alluring, but he found that several habits died hard, and he was always watching to make sure he was keeping his arms covered, keeping out of the way of most of the security cameras littered around the mining colony. People were kind, especially since the ladies of his ship had sent the Mayer brothers packing, and more often than not, they hadn't been allowed to pay for drinks or food. Sooner or later, someone was going to catch either sight of his ink or have a flash of recognition about Serena, and he knew they just couldn't sit around waiting for it to happen.
So as much as Sketch would've loved to spend an entire week dirtside, after two days, they were heading back to the ship to get everything loaded up and be on their way. They'd gotten all their requested supplies - air, water, even the handful of heavy slugs he'd asked for, though those had been provided free of charge, the dockhands' way of saying thanks for knocking the Mayer brothers down a few pegs.
Sketch had seen bullies like them before dozens of times, and once the illusion that they were undefeatable had been broken, their strength would slowly recede back further and further until they were nothing more than a couple of pain in the asses that people had to tell to shut the fuck up every now and again.
He'd spent a good part of the last two days telling stories about his time before he'd joined The Calm, back when he was a freelance mercenary, solving problems with an iron fist or a gun at the ready. It was fun, reliving the glory days of when his life had been as simple as "solve this problem" without having to worry about whether or not the cause was just or what the long-term ramifications were to their actions. Of course, as he pointed out, that was also why he'd eventually walked away from that life - he'd started thinking about such things anyway, and once he started thinking about them, it seemed impossible to
stop
thinking about them.
Serena had also volunteered some stories about her time as a Princess, and while they were mostly just comedy of errors tales, it was nice to get a chance to know Serena's personality extended beyond her position. She had always been plucky and curious, but over the course of her stories, Sketch could start to see that she had a kind heart, and had never really taken her position for granted, or assumed that it meant she was superior to any of the people who'd been assigned as servants to her.
Aliara, by contrast, didn't have much in the way to offer in terms of stories about her time with the Starless Dominion. The Y'bari were encouraged to keep their heads down, follow orders and not show independent thinking beyond using it to achieve whatever goals they'd been assigned to. She'd found the experience mostly mind numbing and recalled her time at the House of Sanada as certainly the most complicated and interesting experience in her career.
Both women seemed to delight in the fact that they were the focus of much of the attentions of the miners, and that Sketch had, in many ways, disappeared into the background, although both women made it abundantly clear that they weren't looking for anyone to keep their beds warm, implying that either the two women were together or that one or both of them were with Sketch, something none of them ever felt the need to elaborate on.
When they returned to
The Praeteritus
, Sketch personally checked all the deliveries, finding that in addition to the supplies they'd bought, the town had thrown in a bunch of other stuff "on the house," including having done some microfracture repairs to the ship's hull, and leaving them a crate of locally distilled whiskey as well as another crate that was stocked with some kind of local jerky, using the meat of something called a hanasherton, whatever the hell that was. They'd even polished up some of the hallways and replaced a few minor joints that they hadn't even charged them for. Helen described their work as 'remarkably thorough,' but not in an unpleasant way.
Around that point, Sketch began to worry that maybe they'd made
too
much of an impression on the mining colony, but he knew the odds of them being back this way again any time soon were extremely low, so he was trying not to get too worked up about it. The entire time they'd been there, he'd been doing his best to stay out of the line of security cameras, making sure his sleeves were all the way covering his arms and that Serena didn't draw too much attention to herself, also positioning her so that she was never in the direct path of any local security camera, even if the odds of her getting spotted or recognized were slim. The last thing he wanted was someone with a royals' fetish spotting her and suddenly putting them on someone's radar. She'd been out of the limelight for more than a while, but Sketch had learned that there were always strange people who idolized any form of monarchy or nobility to the point of obsequiousness, so it was something he knew they would never feel quite safe with.
"They were pretty thorough in cleaning the ship, Captain," Helen told him as they were finishing their inspection. "They even replaced the filters in the air scrubbers free of charge. Those Mayer brothers you took care of must have been particularly reviled. The service crews were all aflutter with tales of the ladies dispatching the hoodlums post haste."
"Yeah, well, all the more reason for us to get off this rock as quick as we can," Sketch said, double checking that the provisions were strapped down in a way that they wouldn't be easily jostled loose. "The last thing we need is someone trying to get pictures of us for keepsakes or whatnot."
"I followed your lead and didn't let anyone take pictures with us, Sketch," Serena said. "I remember my status just as much as you do, and I don't have any desire to get spotted by some random redneck who'll broadcast it to all his hillbilly friends and suddenly the Starless Dominion knows I'm still alive. Just because we haven't been doing this as you have doesn't mean we're entirely ignorant of what we can and can't do."
"I saw. Thanks, you two." They left the cargo bay and headed down the hall to the elevator. "I know all of this has been as much culture shock for you as it has for me, so I guess I'm just glad we were all able to go through it together."
Despite the small size of
The Praeteritus
, the ship still had three levels which felt more like six, because of the incredibly tall hallways. Even for as long as he'd been walking around the ship, he still occasionally felt like a toddler wandering through his parents' spaceship. It helped, not having to push buttons for most things, but there was only so much adjustment Helen could manage for them. The bridge controls and seats had been lowered, but much of the computer work was built into the structure itself. He'd joked with Helen a couple of times that if it ever turned out he needed a large crew, the bridge ceiling was high enough that they could construct a scaffolding and put a second level around many portions of it. That was true for every room on the ship, except maybe the cargo bays, where the extra space came in handy for hauling massive items.
"You think your fixer's going to freak out?" Serena asked him as he headed over to the comms station to phone the harbormaster.
"She's never expected to meet with me in person, and I don't intend to tell her we're coming, so yeah, I would imagine she's going to be a little freaked," he said, tapping the button to announce their departure. "This is
The Praeteritus
to Skrum Dock Central, requesting departure clearance."
In a surprise, the screen popped to life and Sketch could see the face of the harbormaster, who looked exactly like Sketch would've expected him to. He was obese, drenched in a combination of sweat and grease, heavy denim overalls covering whatever flesh didn't have oil on it, a giant cap pulled down almost entirely over his eyes, although Sketch could see the chrome spheres reflecting out beneath it. "SDC here. Sorry to be seeing the back of you so soon,
Praeteritus
. What's your next destination port?"
"Not entirely certain at this point, SDC," Sketch said, slightly tugging on the wrists of his shirt, making sure they were pulled down all the way to his hands, covering every inch of his tattoos. It would be far too easy to grow complacent, but he wasn't going to do that, because while his tattoos might be unrecognizable to almost anyone, all it would take was one person and he'd be in the shit. "We've got a couple of possible paths we could take in, maybe check in with some of our coordinators, see if there's a gig with my name on it that I need to get to sooner rather than later. You know how these long hauls are - everybody wants the best of the best, and when they can't get them, they'll take us along with the rest, just so the work gets done."
"I know exactly how that is,
Praeteritus
," the harbormaster sighed. "Nobody gives a shit us until something ain't where it's supposed to be when it's supposed to be there, and then suddenly they'll crawl as far up our asses as they can fit, and stretch us further if they can't. You don't take no shit off no clients, boyo, and don't let them push you into any corners you can't get out of. Dock Central out."
The line went dark and they could hear the sound of the clamps releasing from the ship's docking spokes. The engines purred and rumbled to life as Sketch moved over to push the buttons to start the automated process of taking
The Praeteritus
up to orbit around the planet. He was glad Helen was happy to handle the basic takeoffs and landings, because the minutiae were precise
and
dull at the same time.
It was with relief that he saw the scanners painted empty sky and nary a Dominion ship in sight. Empty space was happy space. Sure, plenty of long haulers, mining ships and a couple of maintenance vessels, but nothing with any serious firepower, and nothing that was in any way a threat. The second the ship started burning out of atmosphere, the more comfortable he got. Deep in the black, a million miles between ports, it was maybe the place he felt most relaxed.
"We're only an hour or so flight from the ring gate, Sketch," Serena told him. "How do you want to pass the time?"
"I may need to keep tinkering with the Ashaka," Sketch said, "but for the time being, let's just enjoy the ride."
The space between the gate and the planet they'd just come from didn't even have a ship in between it to give them pause. It wasn't the gate they'd arrived in from a few days ago, but another gate, one that would jump them much further in a different direction, more back towards civilization and away from the backwater planets Sketch had spent most of the last few years bouncing between. Except as they approached the gate, he saw something he'd never seen before.
"Huh," he said, glancing at the observation screen showing off the gate, which had its center filled with a strange fog of glowing red mist, instead of the empty void of space that should've been there. "That's new. Any of you ever seen anything like that before?"
"The Hells is that?" Serena said.
"Certainly nothing I'm familiar with," Aliara said. "Although I certainly wouldn't call myself a warp gate mechanic."
"Well, let's give a call and see what the hell the gate has to say for themselves." Sketch tapped the control panel and the communications channel gave out a sharp whistle. "This is
