Tradecraft: Theft
First chapter - science fiction (book 1)
TRADECRAFT: THEFT
1
Paolo Chelini held up the small card that identified who he was to the station security officer. The officer, a short woman with a buzz haircut, slipped the card onto her palm-sized scanner. She handed the card back once the screen on her scanner lit up.
“Paolo Chelini,” she said, drawing out the vowels. “I think my boss wants to talk to you.”
“Who’s your boss?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. Instead she tapped a finger to a device in her left ear and looked away from him. “Calling Lieutenant Vallejo.” She was quiet for several seconds. “Sir? There’s a Mister Chelini here at the entry gate. He is? Okay, sir.” She tapped the device again and looked at Chelini. She pointed to her right and said, “Wait right there. He’ll be down in a few.”
Chelini shrugged and started moving in the direction she’d pointed. He knew his arrival would be something of a fuss. Hell, everyone’s arrival the past day or so had probably been a fuss. But he didn’t think he rated an escort.
Standing against the wall gave him a chance to look around. The entry gate of Central Station looked like every other gate at every space station and spaceport he had been through. A corridor led up from the docking area of the station. The corridor ended at a gray rectangle that was the body scanner. Beside it was a desk with a security officer looking at the screen. Another officer, in this case the woman with the very short hair, checked the ID discs of those coming onto the station. Beyond the “gate” were rows of gray plastic chairs secured to the floor in groups of five. In this waiting area there were four rows, all facing the corridor to the docking area. Leading from the waiting room were two hallways leading into the the station. Signs over the hallway going left, written in every known language of the major races, said the hallway led to the recreation sections of the station. The signs over the hallway going to the right said they led to offices.
What surprised him, considering how important everyone thought Central Station would be, was the lack of anything marked “orientation” or “visitor information.” There was one large screen, a few meters wide and at least a meter tall, against the far wall. The screen display said, “Tap for info requests,” flashing through all the major languages. That seemed to Chelini to be the only way for anyone to learn anything about where they wanted to go.
What was just as surprising was how quiet the entry gate was. His ship was the only one that arrived at that particular moment, so the person at docking control told him. No one else was disembarking from their ship when he was. A freighter in the docking bay was being unloaded, but that was the only activity he saw there. As for the waiting area past the gate, it was empty. No humans or aliens were sitting in the chairs, waiting for an arrival or a ship to depart.
This is supposed to be a big deal, he thought, so why is it so quiet?
He considered walking back to the gate and asking the personnel on duty that question when he heard footsteps coming down the right hallway. He moved away from the wall next to it so he could see who was coming. Just as he turned, a man came into the waiting area. He was dressed in the uniform of the Human Alliance Fleet. He was tall and lanky. His face suggested he was in his thirties. His uniform was quiet clean, and the shining pips on his collars said he held the rank of Lieutenant.
He walked to Chelini, smiled, and stuck out his right hand. “You’re Paolo Chelini, right?” He had no accent, but his voice sounded warm and friendly.
Chelini shook the man’s hand. “Yes, I am. Who are you?”
“Lieutenant Roberto Vallejo, Central Station security chief. Pleased to meet you.”
“Thanks.”
“Follow me.”
“Sure.” Chelini fell in behind Vallejo as he walked back up the corridor to the offices. “It’s awfully quiet around here.”
“Yeah, I know. Nice, ain’t it?”
“I thought it would be busier.”
“So did I, what with tomorrow being the first regular meeting of the Galactic League and all. But the press that are covering this have been here a couple days. The diplomats have been here almost a week. The staff has been here a couple weeks, at least. That’s about it, I guess.”
“What? No civilian traffic?”
“Not much. I mean, it’s not like people are going to be making deals around here, or there’s all that much for tourists to see.” Vallejo pointed to a door ahead and to their left. “There it is.”
Chelini looked. On the door was a sign that read, in human standard, “Chief of Security.” He glanced backward, noticing that the offices along this part of the hallway were for what could be thought of a “secondary authorities,” such as the supply officer and the publicity officer.
The door slid open when Vallejo stopped in front of it. He moved aside and waved Chelini in. The office was as standard as they came. There was a desk, a chair behind, two in front, a desk screen, and a wall screen behind the desk.
“Pretty drab, Lieutenant,” Chelini commented as he sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“Yeah, I know.” Vallejo walked around the desk and sat down behind it. “I don’t really have a family, so I don’t have family pics or vids to post. Being in the Fleet doesn’t allow much time or space for gathering knick-knacks. I have ordered a couple of prints for the other walls. They’re supposed to be here any time now.”
“Fair enough. I’ve never been that much of a stuff person myself.”
Vallejo nodded. “I thought you had a crew?”
“Crew of two. They’re still on Tradecraft. Nobody said if there would be any accommodations for us.”
Vallejo waved his right finger at Chelini. “Don’t let me forget. We’ve got rooms for you and your crew, since you’ll be here a bit.”
“A bit? How long is that?”
“A couple days, at least.”
“My testimony is going to take that long?”
“Probably not. Questions for you, though, they’ll probably take that long.”
“I see. So, why did you need to talk to me, Lieutenant?”
“First, the Captain wanted me to make sure you’re clear on what Central Station is all about. He wants you to have the highlights, seeing as why you’re here might ruffle a few feathers.”
“What’s there to know? Central Station is set in unoccupied system in the middle of known space. It’ll be the home to meetings of the Galactic League, which is to discuss important matters like trade agreements and cultural exchanges.”
“True enough, Mister Chelini, but we’re also here to promote peace.”
“With Fleet personnel to provide security?”
Vallejo shrugged. “Yeah, well, you can’t be too careful.”
“Sure. I know the Alphans wanted this place built. Is there much of their tech built into the station?”
“In the defense grid. Beyond that, everything is pretty standard stuff.”
“Well, we’re safe, at any rate.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Is there anything else I need to know about the station?”
“Those are the highlights. So, the next thing I was supposed to ask is about the incident.”
“That’s a polite term for being robbed.”
“Just be careful with the words you use.”
“I have dealt with aliens before, Lieutenant.”
“Right. Sorry. Anyway, tell me what happened.”
“Didn’t you read my report?”
Vallejo shook his head. “Captain says I’m supposed to hear you tell it in your own words.” He nodded at his desk screen. “He gave me some questions and comments, just in case.”
Chelini frowned for a moment, then nodded. “He wants to know if I’ll describe what happened without using incendiary language.”
“You got it.”
“Sure. Okay, well, I, I mean, my ship, was making a run from Alphan space to Alliance space.”
“Direct course to Earth?”
“Yes.”
“Make sure you say that. You might be asked to point out your route on a map.”
“Not a problem. We jumped into a vacant system in unclaimed space.”
“Where?”
“Between Hydiran space and the Kiskugor Coalition.”
“That your normal route?”
“Pretty much.”
“I take it you entered the system to recharge your jump drive.”
“Right.”
“Then what happened?”
“Another ship approached us. Said they were going to board us. If we offered no resistance, we’d be allowed to go.”
“What kind of ship?”
Chelini paused to recall. “Looked like a patrol ship.”
“Captain wants you to be more specific.”
Chelini paused again. “I’d have to check our sensor log, but I’m pretty sure it was an Interstellar Starships design. Type Four, I think.”
“And how do you know that?”
“Merchant crews have learned to recognize patrol ships. Some years back, a raider had the bright idea of buying a ship, calling it a ‘patrol ship,’ and used it to steal cargo. He changed markings so he always looked legit on approach.”
Vallejo blinked. “Really? I never heard that. What happened?”
“The Hydirans hunted him down. Armed all their merchant ships and waited for him to try to rob one of their ships. One shot crippled the raider. The crew’s still in jail, I believe.”
“So after that, everyone started talking about what was a patrol ship and what wasn’t?”
“Everyone. Merchant owners and crews made it their business to learn to tell the difference between patrol ships, warships, and everything else. The various governments who didn’t already have light-duty patrol ships started buying off-the-rack models.” Chelini grinned. “Just the sort of stunt that the League could have dealt with.”
“Okay. So what you saw was a patrol ship, right?”
“What we saw, yes.”
“Armed?”
“Of course. Our sensors picked up the energy spike.”
“What happened after they hailed you?”
“We had no choice but to let them dock and board.”
“Who came aboard?”
“Two humans, a man and a woman, and two Elsora, both men.”
“Armed?”
“Pistols. Which were out as soon as they came through the airlock.”
“You sure who they were?”
Chelini cleared his throat. “I nor my crew did body scans on them, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“But nothing fell off, right?”
“Huh? Oh, you mean prosthetics and wigs. No.”
“Then what?”
“One of the Elsora asked where the cargo was. I had one of my crew, Derek, take him to the cargo hold. The other Elsora went with them.”
“You’ll need to give his full name when you testify tomorrow.”
“Sure. After a few minutes Derek and one of the Elsora came up carrying crates, with the first one covering Derek. The crates were carried aboard the other ship. Derek said they were put into what seemed to be a cargo hold.”
“Was that it?”
“No. There were four other crates on our ship. They were taken from Tradecraft to the raider the same way.”
“What about the two humans?”
“Didn’t say a word, just kept Francie and I under guard on the bridge.”
“So how do you know what happened to the crates?”
“Derek told us. I believe his statement is in the official record.”
“I’ll make sure to find the file so it’s available tomorrow. Okay, Mister Chelini, here’s the big question: what was in those crates?”
Chelini huffed out a breath before answering. “The exact Alphan term is ‘control nodes.’ In human terms, a computer control system for operating starships. A nearly-intelligent system that allows a starship to be run with fewer crew than is common in known space.”
“Go on. Captain says details will help.”
“Okay. The main advance is that this system is smart enough to inform the crew when it encounters a problem it can’t handle on its own. The best and simplest example is with life support, especially cleaning. The system can control the cleaning bots, and uses the ship’s internal sensors to monitor the surfaces of the ship. It can then inform the crew if a particular mess ought to be handled with their supervision, rather than just passing it off to the bots.”
Vallejo shook his head. “How’s that an advance over what we have now?”
Chelini smiled. “Again, simple example. Let’s say someone tracks mud onto a ship. Normally, the bots just move in and clean up the mud. The Alphan system will, on its own, scan the mud to make certain there are no dangerous chemicals or organic compounds in the mud. It will then make certain that if it does find anything in the mud, that it’s something the bots are okay to clean up. It’s smart enough to know the difference between, ‘this is a mess the bots have to use more cleaning fluid to deal with,’ and ‘there is a biological contaminant in the mud, the crew needs to go into protective mode.’”
“I know that’s a big deal, but I’m not quite clear on how.”
“An ancient tactic for dealing with enemies is to infect them with diseases. These days it’s harder to do because every ship does a scan in the airlock before someone boards and hits them with a decontamination spray if need be. Same thing happens at entry gates on space stations and in spaceports.
“In theory, though, it is possible that a biological agent could be engineered to survive a spray, or to be dormant so it doesn’t get picked up by a scanner. Now, there’s no way to get that past a ship’s internal scanners. But if you can sneak it on board, past the airlock, you could put a ship on biohazard lockdown.” Chelini smiled. “Clever way to put a ship out of action for a while, don’t you think?”
Vallejo nodded. “Now I get it. You might not make the crew sick, but you could make the ship inoperable for a while while they clean up the situation.”
“Right. That’s the brilliance of this Alphan control system. It’s smart enough to spot a trick like that and alert the crew before anything has a chance to spread throughout the ship.”
Vallejo smiled to Chelini. “Okay, that leads me to ask you how you know about this system in the first place?”
“I have a version of it installed on Tradecraft. It’s how I’m operating long-term with a crew of three.”
“What, the works?”
“No. I’m a civilian, so I don’t have the military parts of the system.”
“Huh. Is that another thing that’ll replace me?”
Chelini shook his head. “No. It can’t investigate crimes. It could work a suppression system against violent actions aboard a station like this, like a riot or a hostile boarding party, I suppose. But I doubt it would be entirely workable. I mean, how would it stop someone from taking hostages?”
“Oh. That’s okay, then.”
Chelini raised an eyebrow. “Of course.”
Vallejo sighed at himself, seeming to catch his little slip-up. “Not okay completely. Anyway. So, your ship was boarded, and your cargo removed. Was anything else taken?”
“No.”
“No one aboard your ship was robbed of personal items? No one forced to give over credit data?”
“Nope.”
“Once the crates were off your ship, what happened next?”
“Derek was returned to Tradecraft. The raiding crew left, threatening to shoot us if we chased them to the airlock. They got off my ship and got onto theirs. Their ship undocked, moved away, then jumped out of the system.”
“Know where?”
“Their heading suggested another vacant system for ship to recharge in. That’s the best I could pass on to the authorities.”
“Who did you contact?”
“The Human Alliance government straight away. Direct jump message to Earth reporting the theft.”
“Why? I mean, you’ll need to say why for the record.”
“Because the systems I was transporting were headed to the Alliance government on Earth, to be put aboard Fleet warships.”
“Okay. Who else did you contact?”
“The Alphans. The Hydirans. The interstellar authorities of the Kiskugor Coalition.”
“Once you sent word out, what did you do?”
“We headed back to Alphan space. I gather messages went back and forth between Earth and the Alphans.”
“Captain said to tell you not to speculate when you testify tomorrow. He and the Alphan ambassador will testify as to what transpired once you told them about the robbery of your ship.”
“Got it. We went back to Alphan space, picked up six more crates, and brought the replacement systems to Earth.”
“No troubles the second trip?”
“None. I won’t speculate, but I believe an Alphan ship was escorting us.”
“Makes sense. So, you got to Earth and made your delivery.”
“Yep. Cooled our heels for a week or so, then came here.”
“All right.” Vallejo looked at his screen. “That clicks with your official statement. I don’t think the Captain wanted me to say anything more to you.” He turned back to Chelini. “You have any questions?”
“A few. First off, what’s the protocol for visiting the ambassadors?”
“Send them a request via the station’s net. You should hear back pretty quick. Why?”
“Well, I understand that Verloth is the Hydiran Ambassador to the League. He and I got back a bit. I wanted to look him up while I was here.”
“I’d say wait till after the meeting tomorrow. It’s okay if you run into him between now and then, but private chats might be interpreted the wrong way.”
“You mean, the Elsora Ambassador might choose to interpret it the wrong way.”
“Pretty much.”
“Okay. Now, is it just me, or is the station on the small side?”
“It’s not you, Mister Chelini.”
“I thought it looked small from space.”
“Yeah.” Vallejo grinned. “We’re not bigger on the inside.”
“Huh?”
“Private joke.”
“Oh. So why isn’t this station bigger?”
“Well, the ambassadors don’t have large staffs, for one. Maybe just an assistant or two, really. That cut down on the number of support personnel the Alliance needed. We’ve got space for business deals to be made, but not much for big cultural exchanges. Alphan tech cuts down on the number of maintenance personnel required to keep the lights on and everything comfortable. And it’s not like folks come here looking for jobs.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Yeah. The big stations are always the ones that are habitats of some sort. You need space to grow food for the residents. Not only do the residents need shelter, but they need shelter for their families. Families mean schools and parks and such. Lots of food and residents means a huge water reclamation and filtration system. And all that needs people to keep the station running. Everybody thinks space stations need to be these huge things, dozens of kilometers long. But not every station needs to be that huge.”
“I see. What do you do for food here?”
“The common raw stuff is shipped in twice a week. There is a garden space, and if we want we can buy plots to grow this or that.”
“This or that?”
Vallejo held his hands about half a meter apart. “It’s about this much space, so no vegetables. Herbs and plant spices are what you can fit in.”
“I see.”
“As for specialty foods, you have to pay for that yourself.”
“It looks like you have some restaurants here.”
“Yep. One, the Central Plaza, is for anyone and everyone. The Center View is at the top of the station. Has a view of space. Not much to see, but the stars can be pretty nice. It is the pricey place, though. Then there’s the drinks-only bar, the Half Empty, and finally there’s the Fleet mess hall, for when station personnel are on duty.”
“What else do you have?”
“The garden area. Takes up half a square kilometer. The holorooms are in the Hub Lounge. Next to that is the Hub Club, where we’re hoping to get in performers. Then there’s Central Mall, where some vendors have set up shop.”
“Vendors?”
“Yeah, y’know, gifts and such, clothes, that sort of thing. It’s still only a quarter full. Captain hopes to get the spaces filled once the League is having regular meetings, and traffic is coming and going. Aside from the workings of the station, that’s about it.”
“Not exactly the big and bold future the stories predicted.”
“Yeah, well, hardly anybody saw the net coming, right?”
“Right.”
“Anything else?”
Chelini shook his head. “I can’t think of anything.”
“Good. The meeting starts at nine standard time tomorrow morning. Report here at eight-thirty. You’ll get a quick introduction to the Captain, then he’ll escort you to the meeting.”
“What about my crew?”
“Oh, right, accommodations.”
“No, well, yes, but I mean, tomorrow.”
“Oh. As you’re the owner and captain of your ship, you’re the only one set to testify on the incident. But don’t let them wander the station during the morning.”
“Will there be a gallery?”
“What? Oh, no. There’s seating for the ambassadors, a little press box, and a few guest seats. Your crew ought to be there, but there will be some big-shots on hand in those seats.”
“Got it.”
“Central Plaza should have the meeting on all their screens. I don’t think anyone would mind if your crew waited there.”
Chelini nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll tell them to wait for me there. That way, if they’re needed to testify, everyone will know where to find them.”
“Great. Well, let’s get you some rooms.”
Central Station is a gathering place for the artists, merchants, and politicians of the Galactic League. Aliens come from all over the galaxy to exchange ideas and resolve disputes.
On the minds of all at Central Station are attacks on merchant starships by raiders, who steal cargo and rob passengers. One such attack on the ship of human Paolo Chelini has made off with technology from the advanced Alphans. The incident starts an investigation that shakes governments and societies.
Paolo Chelini thought he was just another starship operator. He and his ship Tradecraft are about to become more famous, more influential, and more pursued…
Get the Tradecraft series at these stores:
Here’s where else to find me online.
Happy writing & happy reading!
A solid start to the book, a lot of technical conversation, but sets up the premise fairly well. Nice work!