The Silver Liner

Captain Royce shook his head as the woman fled. Aww shucks, he thought, drawing a flask from his jacket pocket and taking a quick swig of the Jameson he kept it filled with. The fight was already spilling outside of the pub and engulfing the surrounding area, so he beat a hasty retreat, making his way back to the dock to board his ship. Casey had thought that he was leaving on the morrow, but in truth, he was leaving before midnight. Rounding the corner, his ship’s berth was visible through the picture window. He always took a moment to admire the Selene no matter how many times he saw her. Selene was not like other vessels; she was long and sleek, her entire surface a shimmering, reflective silver with overtones of blue.

While most ships had a modular design with large, boxy sections spinning to create gravity, Selene was long, some ninety two meters from stem to stern, and graceful, with a pair of tapering spokes that resembled wings, each ending in a cylindrical nacelle containing the passenger sections. The spin gravity mechanism was seamlessly worked into Selene’s design so as to maintain her sleek appearance, looking like a large aero-plane when it was docked. Both ahead and behind the spokes were two sets of smaller wings with VTOL azimuth engine pods built into them, making her atmosphere capable. The cockpit was fixed like the old space shuttles, so he had to stay strapped in while flying her. The Selene had a fuselage, rather than looking like a family van with engines the way that most modern ships did. A sleek tail section with the main engine completed the look. Selene looked fast just standing still. He approached and transmitted the command to open the docking tube. As the captain was about to board, the two Zduhać bounty hunters from the pub came around the corner.

“Captain Kendrick Royce,” one of the hunters called with a thick Russian accent.

“What can I do for ya?” Kendrick asked warily, turning to face them.

“We are here to discuss … business,” one of them said, a somewhat sinister edge to his voice.

He walked from the docking tube and met them halfway, not wanting them getting too close to his ship. They met him and then stared at him for a few moments without answering, sizing him up. The Zduhać were tall, a full two meters, and very muscular, but at a hundred and eighty three centimeters himself, Kendrick was not short by any means, though he did not have their powerful build.

“Aw shucks, guys, y’all called my name and here I am, and now you’re speechless? Come on, now; whatcha want?”

“I am Borislav, and this is Yaroslav,” one of them offered. He honestly could not tell them apart. “We were tracking a woman, and were nearly upon her. Then you took her out the front door during the melee.”

“There is money to be had from turning her in,” added Yaroslav, sounding not much different from Borislav. He was trying to sound persuasive, but he just sounded creepy.

Kendrick hoped to diplomatically put them off. “Just walkin’ a lady to the door durin’ the action. Never seen her before, but she sure was a charmer. Wish she’d stuck around; wouldn’t mind gittin’ to know her better.” Which was the truth; he really did find her attractive, though it puzzled him. She was not at all his ‘type,’ though neither was his late wife when they had met.

“Do not play dumb with us, weakling Human!” Borislav shouted, grabbing Royce’s collar.

The massive bounty hunter was about to say something else, and opened his mouth, but Kendrick quickly grasped Borislav’s fist with his left hand and struck the hunter in the neck with the edge of his right hand, using a shuto technique. As Borislav’s head snapped back from the solid strike, Kendrick deftly locked the hunter’s wrist, releasing the larger man’s grip and bending him forward. He struck Borislav’s elbow sharply with a downward heel palm, snapping it.

At the same time, Kendrick delivered a swift kick to Yaroslav’s left knee, collapsing it. Royce pulled his pistol, kicked out Borislav’s right knee, and then stepped back almost two meters. Yaroslav got up and tried to rush him, but Royce sidestepped and kicked Yaroslav’s knee again, this time breaking it.

“Drop your weapons, NOW!” Royce threatened them with his pistol until they tossed their weapons aside. “Hands where I can see ’em!” Once they put their hands up, he activated his transceiver and contacted the port authority.

“Yeah, this is Captain Kendrick Royce. Check yer damned security cameras. Two Zduhać bounty hunters just attacked me. What the hell am I payin’ these outlandish docking fees for if you aint gonna patrol this trash heap?”

“Are you in any danger? Are you injured?” asked the voice at the other end.

“No, I aint in no danger! Thanks for askin’, but I already did your jobs for you, so y’all just need to come on down an’ collect the trash.” He hung up and with his foes down and security on the way, he holstered his pistol and drew a taser, which he quickly used to render the two hunters unconscious. Then he boarded his ship. The OSP had gotten rougher each year since he had first visited, and this incident made him consider raising his fees substantially.

Borislav and Yaroslav were not merely part of the rough element, however. They were bounty hunters in pursuit of a specific target, and they would have happily broken his bones one by one if they thought it would have gotten them to that woman. Even though he did not know her name, he would never have given her up. Not that it mattered; he had no clue where she was or who she was. There was no use in worrying about it now, though.

Port security was already on the scene. Thankfully, they only wanted to verify Kendrick’s statement. They asked him no questions about the woman’s whereabouts. The two bounty hunters were already being picked up for starting the fight that had consumed O’Malley’s pub and had then spilled out into the station, ultimately costing millions of dollars in property damage, so all they really wanted from Kendrick was more ammunition to throw at the two hapless Zduhać.

He was ready for immediate departure, so there was no sense in sticking around. He swaggered into the docking tube and onto his beloved silver liner. Entering the cockpit, he greeted the ship saying, “Hey, I’m back. How’s my girl?”

“Good evening, Captain Royce,” replied the AI’s feminine voice, her holographic image coming to life, smiling at him. The image was a bust; head, neck and shoulders only. She wore the image of his late wife; dark, shoulder length hair, hazel eyes magnified by large framed glasses, and fair skin. Her image reminded him of her passing, but also eased the pain somewhat. He thought of Jillian and the elusive doctor, and was reminded that holograms could not engage in physical interaction. The AI spoke again, interrupting his thoughts.

“Captain Isao Fujita has been trying to contact you. I have given him no response, as you have instructed. However, we have an unauthorized boarding.”

“Oh?” He did not like the sound of that. He hoped it was not another bounty hunter. “What’d he look like?”

“She is a middle aged woman with long graying hair. Scans reveal no weapons. She is presently in your cabin.”