Salvage

By Eric Brown

When Salvageman Ed saves Ella Rodriguez from spider-drones on the pleasure planet of Sinclair’s Landfall, he has no idea what he’s letting himself in for. Ella is not at all what she seems, as he’s soon about to find out.

What follows, as the spider-drones and the Hayakawa Organisation chase Ed, Ella and engineer Karrie light-years across space, is a fast-paced adventure with Ed learning more about Ella – and about himself – than he ever expected.

The Salvageman Ed series of linked stories – four of which appear here for the first time – combine action, humour and pathos, from the master of character-based adventure science fiction.

“Eric Brown’s modest, slightly retro, extremely charming and very human voice has been a distinctive, indeed unique, presence in British SF for many years. Here he offers another interlinked selection of stories which, as is typical of Eric Brown, manage to be small scale, close-up, and completely free of heroic posturing, in spite of the galactic scale of their setting. There is something restful about them, something comforting. Yet while they gently entertain, they also, very quietly, deal with big questions about identity, love, and the relationship between body and soul.” Chris Beckett, Arthur C Clarke Award-winning author of Dark Eden

“These stories demonstrate everything that Eric Brown excels at: intelligent high adventure in space featuring fully-rounded characters that the reader can instantly relate to, revelling in their evolving relationship as Ed and his crew are forced to contend with all that the author’s vivid imagination throws at them. Wonderful stuff!” Ian Whates, author of The Noise Within

• Language: English
• Publisher: infinity plus
• Release date: Jul 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301715473

Eric Brown

Twice winner of the British Science Fiction Award, Eric Brown is the author of more than twenty SF novels and several short story collections. His debut crime novel, Murder by the Book, was published in 2013. Born in Haworth, West Yorkshire, he now lives in Scotland.

Book preview

Salvage

Eric Brown

Published by infinity plus at Smashwords

www.infinityplus.co.uk/books

Follow @ipebooks on Twitter

© Eric Brown 2013

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means, mechanical, electronic, or otherwise, without first obtaining the permission of the copyright holder.

The moral right of Eric Brown to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

Cover image © isoga

Cover design © Keith Brooke

These stories demonstrate everything that Eric Brown excels at: intelligent high adventure in space featuring fully-rounded characters that the reader can instantly relate to, revelling in their evolving relationship as Ed and his crew are forced to contend with all that the author's vivid imagination throws at them. Wonderful stuff! Ian Whates

~

Eric’s Brown’s modest, slightly retro, extremely charming and very human voice has been a distinctive, indeed unique, presence in British SF for many years. Here he offers another interlinked selection of stories which, as is typical of Eric Brown, manage to be small scale, close-up, and completely free of heroic posturing, in spite of the galactic scale of their setting. There is something restful about them, something comforting. Yet while they gently entertain, they also, very quietly, deal with big questions about identity, love, and the relationship between body and soul. Chris Beckett

~

SF infused with a cosmopolitan and literary sensibility Paul J McAuley

~

Eric Brown joins the ranks of Graham Joyce, Christopher Priest and Robert Holdstock as a master fabulist Paul di Filippo

~

Eric Brown has an enviable talent for writing stories which are the essence of modern science fiction and yet show a passionate concern for the human predicament and human values Bob Shaw

~

There is always something strikingly probable about the futures that Eric Brown writes... No matter how dark the future that Eric Brown imagines, the hope of redemption is always present. No matter how alien the world he describes, there is always something hauntingly familiar about the situations that unfold there. Tony Ballantyne

Contents

1 Dissimulation Procedure

2 The Soul of the Machine

3 Three’s A Crowd

4 The Manexan Exodus

5 To All Appearances

6 Cold Testing

7 Salvaging Pride

8 Incident on Oblomov

9 Laying the Ghost

10 Salvage Rites

11 End Game

Coda

Afterword

About the Author

Publishing credits

1 /// Dissimulation Procedure

I docked my ship, A Long Way From Home, at the spaceport on Sinclair’s Landfall and boarded a monotrain to Murchison’s Falls. I booked into a hotel, showered, and decided to find a restaurant with a view and spend a quiet evening doing nothing. I thought I’d stay in the city for a day or two, then head north into the Campbell Highlands.

That was the idea, anyway.

The Neutrino Gastrodome was an expensive restaurant specialising in Terran cuisine. Its englobed dining area hung at the end of a scimitar-shaped cantilever overlooking the jewelled spray of the Falls where the mighty Murchison river tipped itself into the inland sea. I selected a table half-way up the curving diaphanous wall and admired the view.

It was twilight, and Procyon was lowering itself slowly into the sea: the far horizon was a gorgeous laminate of argent and marmalade, presided over by the hypertrophied hemisphere of the yellow-blue supergiant.

Ten minutes later I was on my second bottle of wheat beer and was about to start on my order of local steamed fish when I saw the girl. She was perhaps twenty, slim and mocha, with oversized mahogany eyes and a fall of unruly hair like midnight made tangible.

She entered the restaurant hurriedly, looked around as if seeking a place to hide, then crossed to the elevator plate and ascended to my level. She saw me staring and smiled, and I did a fair imitation of the open-mouthed fish on the plate before me.

That, she said, slipping into the seat opposite, looks like the best glass of beer in the world.

Now, though I say so myself, I am an experienced spacer. I’ve seen the galaxy and what it has to offer, and I’ve been the recipient of a number of come-ons in my time. I should have seen through her innocent guise, but I was a malleable, man-shaped blob of protoplasm in her hands.

Then perhaps you’d care to join me? I said, gallantly, if after the fact.

She had lips that seemed too large for her slim face. She twisted them and looked back at the entrance, as if expecting pursuers.

I followed her gaze. The foyer milled with a dozen different races: there were humans aplenty, a posse of arachnid folk from Bellatrix V, four octopoid Regulans, and three spider-drones which scanned the diners with their antennae before turning quickly and scurrying off.

The girl flashed a smile at me. That would be wonderful, she said. I’m Ella.

We shook hands with an odd formality. She wore a black one-piece made out of some form-hugging material which fitted her like a second skin.

And I’m Ed, I said, and indicated the menu. Would you care for something to eat?

I knew – and I’m sure this isn’t wisdom after the event – that Ella was no high-class call-girl on the make.

That’s kind of you, but the drink will be sufficient.

The way she pronounced the words, with stilted formality, suggested to me that English was not her first language.

Her beer arrived and she drank quickly, then goggled at the effect of the fizz. She suppressed a pretty burp behind two fingers and looked wide-eyed at me.

It’s best sipped, I said. You’ve never had beer before?

She shook her head, glancing at the sigil on my radiation silvers. You work on a starship, she said.

"I run an old tub called A Long Way From Home. A salvage ship out of Altair. Just me and my engineer, Karrie."

Altair... The way she breathed the word, full of childish awe, made me wonder where she’d been all her life.

You from Sinclair’s Landfall? I asked.

I am from Epsilon Centauri Xb, the Hayakawa Organisation asteroid.

Ah, I said, nodding; someone had to come from there, I supposed. This must seem like paradise, after the asteroid. What do they make there these days?

She shrugged. Oh, AIs, ’bots and stuff. She sipped her beer, appeared to be calculating, then said, Do you need a pilot, Ed?

I did my fish imitation again. Just the other day I’d been talking to Karrie about hiring a co-pilot to give me a bit of free time.

Well, as a matter of fact...

You do? she gasped.

You’re a pilot? I asked, suspicious.

She nodded, holding my gaze.

And you’re registered?

Well... not exactly. Her amazing lips contorted again, semaphoring some legalistic dilemma, perhaps. But I soon will be.

Can I see your ID?

She hesitated, then ejected a data-pin from her wrist-com. She passed it across the table and I read the data on my own wrist-com.

Ella Rodriguez was just shy of twenty, a native of Epsilon Centauri Xb, and had an education that would put mine to shame. She was also fluent in ten languages.

I whistled.

Ella, I said, can you tell me what you’re doing on Sinclair’s Landfall?

She looked at me, appraising. I will tell you the truth, Ed. I’m running away from my parents, who have arranged a marriage with a man I do not like. He’s a businessman who wants me as an accessory, no more. I can do better than submit to the cloistered life he would impose on me.

How did you get to Sinclair’s Landfall?

I stowed away in the cargo-hold of a void-freighter.

Resourceful, I said. And no doubt illegal. Just like your running away.

She held my gaze with those lustrous eyes. I’m an adult. My parents have no authority over me.

But they sent agents after you, to bring you back? The Regulans? I guessed.

She shook her head. The spider-drones. Yes, they are following me. I thought I’d lost them at the spaceport, but they are determined.

I had a thousand questions, not the least of which was how she had managed to evade security on reaching Landfall... I let them lie, for now.

Hokay, I said, nodding. Fact is, I need a co-pilot, but I didn’t plan to ship out for another six days. I intended to take a flier up to the Highlands, relax for a while–

That will be fine, she said.

I thought you wanted to get away immediately?

A few days in the Highlands will suit me okay, Ed.

It will? Good. We can talk terms when we’re aboard the ship.

She smiled, and its effect was like ten CCs of pure adrenaline, mainlined.

Go on, call me a romantic fool, or a lustful old man. The fact was, Ella Rodriguez touched something deep within me, and I responded.

Now, how to get you to the Highlands without those spider-drones giving chase?

~

Ella had it all worked out, and told me.

I settled the bill and quit the restaurant. As I stepped out into the street I looked right and left for any sign of the spider-drones. To my relief they had moved on.

I hurried to the flier rental franchise next to my hotel.

On the way I wondered what Karrie would make of the escapade. My engineer is hard-headed and rational to the point of being robotic; she does have a heart, but it’s buried under protective layers of practised cynicism.

 If she knew that the kid was a runaway, with robot drones on her trail, she’d call me all the damn idiots under the sun and not talk to me for a week.

I decided not to tell her about Ella’s recent history.

I hired a flier, stowed my luggage, and flew back to the Gastrodome. I hovered over the Falls, eased back the lift and drifted towards the observation deck.

Seconds later Ella emerged from the restaurant... followed by a scurrying spider drone. She ran along the balcony towards me, concentration twisting her features. The drone high-stepped after her, the sight of it almost comical.

Christ, I thought. We’ll never get away now...

Then Ella stopped dead, lifted a long leg with the precise grace of a ballerina and connected with the drone’s argent cowl. The effect was miraculous: the drone seemed to lift as if yanked on strings, fly over the rail and cartwheel crazily through the spume.

Ella leaped from the balcony rail and landed in the passenger seat beside me.

I powered up, banked away from the Falls, and headed north.

You said nothing about being a martial arts expert, I said.

Black belt, tae kwon do, she replied, squirming down in the seat and staring straight ahead.

I peered over the side to where the drone had vanished into the sea. Ah... do you realise how much those things cost?

The drones? Yes. The latest model fetches three million Terran credits on the open market.

Three million... I whistled.

She cast me an appraising glance. Do not worry yourself about that, Ed.

I was more worried on your behalf, I said.

That is not necessary.

I veered north-east, following the line of the coast; in an hour I would turn inland, and perhaps an hour after that we’d arrive at Tanner’s Haven in the Campbell Highlands.

She busied herself with her wrist-com for a few minutes. I glanced at her. What are you doing?

Checking to see if the remaining drones are following, she said matter-of-factly.

I swallowed. And are they?

She nodded. Yes, she said.

"How many? I asked.

Just two.

Two? Great... Is there anything we can do? I mean... those things can be dangerous.

She smiled, as if mocking my funk. Do not worry. I have everything under control.

She closed her eyes and a minute later appeared to be asleep.

Not for the first time I wondered whether I was being used.

~

Tanner’s Haven is a small settlement of old-fashioned A-frame dwellings scattered across high crags and surrounded by vast tracts of pine forests. I’d booked an A-frame back at the Falls, a small, two-bedroom place beside a lake well away from neighbours.

The three moons were rising by the time we arrived, their silver light illuminating our way from the flier to the cosy front room.

The bar, I noted, was well stocked with an array of vintage beverages.

I poured myself a scotch and asked if Ella wanted anything. She didn’t.

One question, I said. Back at the restaurant, how come the drones didn’t see you?

She hesitated, then said, I was running a dissimulation procedure, Ed.

A dissimulation procedure? I echoed.

It worked – for a while, before I turned it off and they checked the restaurant again.

I gawped at her. Turned it off?

She strode across the room, absorbed in something scrolling down the screen of her wrist-com.

What is it?

They are a hundred kilometres south of here, she said.

I raised my glass, downed it in one, and refilled it. Excellent. Fine. I’ll no doubt be arrested as an accomplice to... what? Destruction of Hayakawa property? I might even be charged with kidnapping.

She twisted her lips. You worry too much, Ed.

I’m sorry. It’s just that the situation we’re in, with two spider-drones in pursuit and one of their number already decommissioned... I just thought there might be reason to worry. A little.

I know how to handle the situation, Ed. Please, trust me.

Earlier it had been me, wise old Space Captain Ed, who’d been the strong, dependable one. The tables, as they say, had been turned... and I felt not only redundant but foolish.

So you can handle the situation, Ella. But what about earlier, when the drones were after you?

She looked up. I didn’t have a way off the planet, then. But thanks to you- And she gave me the sweetest smile -I have a lifeline.

So... what now?

I’m going to make sure the drones are well and truly destroyed before we take-off, she said. Okay?

I managed a nod. But... how? I asked.

She twisted her lips. I have a plan.

~

This is what we’ll do, Ella said.

We were sitting on the veranda, sipping scotch. Or rather I was. Ella had declined, declaring that she had to be sober for what was to follow. I was on my third double, and feeling rather mellow.

Triple moonlight shimmered off the lake before us and glow-bats performed stunt aerobatics just above the water.

Ella said, The drones won’t approach together. That’s bad tactics. Together, there’s always the chance that they could be taken out. They’ll come one by one. They’re in constant radio contact, and can call on each other instantly.

I was about to ask how she knew so much about the spider-drones’ operating methods, but stopped myself. She was a highly educated girl, Ella.

So what do I do?

You stay here, on the veranda.

I nodded. I think I can manage that. And you?

I’ll go into the woods. She looked around at the closely packed forest on three sides.

And?

The drones will probably arrive by flier and come down out of sight. They’ll approach on foot. One will confront you, while the other will track me into the woods.

I looked at her. A question: just how have they traced you so far? And how do you know one will follow you into the forest?

She looked at her screen. They obviously have a fix on me. Maybe it’s something... genetic, that my parents supplied. I don’t know. Anyway, wherever I go, they’re not far behind.

And you wanted that, I thought. I took another swallow of the single malt. So what should I do when the spider turns up?

She ejected a data-pin from her wrist-com. Give it this.

I took the pin. What is it?

Tell the drone we argued. Spin it some story about how I lied to you, and you didn’t like being followed by drones. Say I left this when I took off – tell the drone it’s my itinerary-

And the drone will believe that?

She stared at me with big eyes. They’re dumb critters. They aren’t sophisticated AIs, just grunts. It will scan the pin for viruses, find none and access it.

And then?

Ella smiled. Kaput.

Kaput?

It’s a germ code that’ll wipe the drone’s system’s program.

Two down, I said, one to go. And the last drone, the one chasing you through the woods?

She unzipped the front of her one-piece. I caught a glimpse of a small breast and looked away. She reached under the material and pulled something out.

She was holding a slim needle-laser pistol. I’ll take it out with this.

I nodded. And what if it decides it doesn’t want to be taken out, and attacks you first?

It won’t do that. It’s a machine, and I’m human, and it was commissioned to bring me back alive and well.

Well, I just hope you’re right.

She reached out and her small, hot hand gripped my oversized, callused ham of a paw. Don’t worry, Ed. Everything will be fine, okay?

I wished I shared her confidence.

She stared across the moonlit lake for a while. I had to do this, Ed. I had to run away. Can you begin to imagine what it’s like? To be a possession, a mere chattel? That’s how my parents regard me. A possession to be handed on to the highest bidder – which is what the businessman was, in effect. I had to get away.

I understand.

She looked down at her wrist-screen. They’re almost here. I’d better get going.

Something kicked in my chest. I wanted to hug her, like a father, and tell her to take care. Instead I just gripped her tiny hand. One thing – why did you want the drones to follow you?

She stared at me. Later, Ed. Okay?

I nodded. Okay. Look after yourself, Ella.

I’ll be fine. She stood, vaulted over the veranda with another show of balletic grace, and vanished into the forest.

~

I scanned the far shore of the lake, the enclosing forest and the night sky, for any sign of the drones’ flier.

Twenty minutes passed and