NOVEL WEB 33. Last Minute Stops
As soon as I had clearance from Doctor Mayhew, I was released the next day. Marcus had procured a wheelchair for me, which provided mobility that I desperately wanted back. Most of the bandages were gone by that point, only a couple remaining to keep my stumped shoulder covered.
With a bit of finagling, I had convinced the captain to take me to a specialty cybernetics shop where I purchased a few inexpensive parts so that I could patch around the mangled bits of my cranial implant and get some level of functionality back. Without the holopad to control the computer, I was limited to voice commands, but I was at least able to connect an external communications antenna that I strapped to the back of my wheelchair. It was an imperfect fix, but it meant that I could talk to Vox again.
My AI friend’s presence had been a welcome return to normalcy after the time in the hospital and it seemed that she was glad to be back with me as well. Despite the fact that she had obviously reproduced the locks on her personality matrix, I still was pretty certain there were tears in her digital eyes when I first contacted her core with the reworked implant.
Much to my surprise, I had one more visitor to appear before we left the planet, though. Trace, the floor manager in the Torgal salvage yard, managed to find us the morning of our departure. He was in casual clothing rather than his working uniform, but his trademark, if less than impressive, goatee made identifying him easy. I looked up at the man from my chair, my face confused, but smiling.
“Glad to see that a little accident couldn’t keep you down, Matson.”
“Trace? What are you doing planet-side?”
His leather jacket scrunched as a hand went to his pocket. “Not much work to be done around the station right now. Basically the entire salvage arm has been shut down while inspectors and investigators comb through everything. Turns out that there was a lot more shady shit going on than anyone knew. We still have a couple cargo runs getting out, but only stuff that was scheduled before all of this started, and only after the cargo has been checked over.”
I let out a deep breath. The more I heard about the situation, the more it was sounding like I was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the former branch manager’s illicit affairs.
“I guess that explains why you aren’t on D’reth, but why are you here?” I asked.
He motioned with his head to the side of the lobby where we were at. I used the controls for my chair to move over and out of the way of other people. Meanwhile, Marcus, Rachael and Echo stepped away a couple meters to give us some privacy, though I noticed that Echo was keeping a bit closer than her parents.
“I came to see you, actually. I heard through the grapevine that you were leaving for good. I uh, I know we weren’t really friends, but you were one of my favorite pilots. Definitely better than some of those jocks. It just didn’t feel right to just let you leave without at least saying goodbye. That and, well, me and some of the pilots got together. I know you probably don’t want to keep anything from your time with Torgal, but I thought you might want something to remember your ship. I know you loved that thing and so did the others.”
Trace reached to his back and pulled a bag around to his front, from which he pulled out a flat looking box. “We searched long and hard near the distress beacon, but there wasn’t a whole lot left. I hope this is enough.”
My eyes were already starting to mist as I awkwardly opened the box and pulled out a shallow framed shadow box. Beneath the glass was a piece of scarred and jagged metal that I instantly began crying over. It wasn’t big, it was far from entirely intact, but I could recognize the lettering surrounded by rust red paint.
Oxide-77
It was what remained of the registration plate that had once been attached to the hatch just aft of the cockpit bubble.
With a broken and pained voice, I looked up to Trace and said “Thank you. You… you don't know how much this means to me.”
Gingerly, Trace knelt down and looked me in the eye. “You know, things like what you somehow survived are why I never wanted to fly like you. But if that’s your dream, kid, chase it. Don’t let asshats like Kruger keep you down.”
Clutching the frame to my chest, I had to steady myself before I was able to speak again. “You were one of the good ones, Trace. Thanks for sticking up for us.”
Standing up and nodding, Trace pushed the bag back around. “Well, seeing you was only one of the things I needed to do here. I need to shop for a new desk. Kruger’s was busted up pretty good when he decided not to go with the officers peacefully.”
I gave him a confused look and he straightened up a bit. “Mr Torgal stopped by yesterday and made me the acting head of the branch.”
Smiling as best I could through the tears, I told him “Good for you, Trace. Maybe you can clean up some of the bullshit Kruger left behind.”
Trace nodded. “Yeah, I’m hoping to. Anyways, I’m not much good with all the mushy stuff, but good luck out there. I’ll miss having you and that rust bucket around.”
The box went into my lap and I somewhat awkwardly held out my left hand. Trace took it with a light grip. “Take care of yourself, Matson. If you ever need something ‘round these parts, give me a call, I’ll see what I can do.”
I shook his hand and pulled my arm back. “It’s Adresta, by the way. Next time you see me, I’ll be a whole new person.”
His head tilted in thought for a brief moment. “Yeah, I guess that fits. Just don’t be too new of a person, I’ve gotten to like this one.” With one final wave, Trace left me still with tears in my eyes. Stars above, I had cried more the last couple weeks than I had in years.
A pair of arms wrapped around me from behind and Echo’s voice spoke into my ear. “See? People will accept you. You’re a good person, Adresta.”
I wasn’t able to really respond to that coherently. Our group once again started moving through the space port. We soon arrived at one of the other FBOs than the one I had landed at previously. This one was a bit more upscale than that one and the employees were all too willing to assist us in any way they could. A ramp was procured to help me get aboard the Hrafn and the Ericksons packed away their bags in cabinets.
With a bit of work, Marcus and Echo assisted me in transferring to one of the nicely upholstered seats just behind the pilot and copilot’s seats. This seat didn’t have a console, but instead had a small table next to it, specifically for non-crew passengers, it seemed.
The inside of the Hrafn was just as nice as its exterior, I thought. All of the consoles in the aft were glass panels and the cockpit panels were much the same but with added holographic interfacing. It was fancy, but also very comfortable.
When the vessel powered up, it was a much gentler hum than the Oxide had ever made, likely due to added soundproofing that a civilian vessel allowed for. From my seat I was able to see the hangar doors open and felt as the mobile pad brought us out to the flightline.
Liftoff was nearly as gentle when it came. Though I wasn’t at the controls, I could tell that the transport I was riding in handled like a dream. There was none of the shaking, none of the rattling of the ship. This thing was designed for this and didn’t have the additional hurdle of being a cobbled-together rust bucket.
It was bittersweet, seeing the orange sky fade to black. It hadn’t been that long ago that I had done so myself, in my ship. It was gone now. The framed plate was the only physical item I had left to remember it by.
I still allowed myself to revel in the experience, however. There was just something stunning about exiting an atmosphere and watching the bright sky turn to star-studded void that thrilled me to my very soul.
“Miss Matson,” called the captain from the pilot’s seat. “Do we need to stop by the station? I don’t believe that we will be able to get you back here before your hangar lease is up at the end of the month.”
A moment’s thought. “I could just pay up the hangar for another month, but my unit would be dumped by then. I’d hate to get all of my stuff out of here without somewhere to put it, though. A new lease hasn’t been signed yet.”
Rachael swiveled her seat to face me. “It wouldn’t do to have you lose anything. Perhaps we should stop, then. How much stuff do you have? I think that we should be able to accommodate a small container within our warehouse. It isn’t exactly a large one, but I doubt you have a great lot, either. The spot was already going to be reserved for you anyways, so you may as well use it.”
I blinked, realizing what that spot would have been for. With a gulp, I swallowed the emotions back down again and pushed forward. “That’s very kind of you to offer. My apartment unit only has a couple of boxes and a bag, the real bulk of my personal effects is the primary core array for my assistive intelligence. Vox will take up more room than anything.”
“How big is that array, Adresta?” asked Marcus. “The Hrafn can haul a little bit, but we don’t have very much room back there.”
Echo was at my back, at least. “The stuff from her room should easily fit in forward storage cabinets. If we shuffle around the EVA cabinet we can probably get all of the tools in there. Without those, the cargo area should easily hold the core array.”
“I don’t know your ship like you do, obviously, but I am painfully aware that I won’t be much use trying to move anything.” It didn’t feel good being such a negative Nancy, but I really couldn't do much.
“Where is the core array?” asked Marcus.
“It's just in the back room of my hangar,” I replied. “It isn’t massive, but it will need to be powered to some extent, just to keep all of Vox’s data intact.”
“Not a problem,” said the captain. “And if it is in your hangar, it should be an easy task to move it if we park there. Pending your permission, of course, Adresta.”
I nodded quickly, and then, upon realizing that the captain couldn’t see me nodding, said aloud: “Of course, sir.”
“Easy enough, then, as I said. We have the cart and it doesn’t sound like there is much to retrieve otherwise. Shouldn't take more than an hour to load up and maybe another little bit if you go to give your vacancy notice to the administration.”
“Well, sir,” I started. “If you are volunteering, I won’t refuse.”
“Then it's a plan.”