Deckhand

By Frank Carey

In this sequel to Deckhand, a detective from a faraway planet with a penchant for assuming identities finds himself on a planet in the middle of nowhere where an old adversary is trying to pull off the caper of a lifetime. Only problem is the ship he stole is about to explode and take the planet, called Earth by the locals, with it. Can one alien cop save the world while looking for a perfect cup of coffee?

Deckhand is the perfect mix of tech adventure, romance, and suspense mixed with a dash of humor. Read it today and find out what happens next.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Carey
• Release date: Aug 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393738404

Frank Carey

Frank Carey has been formally writing and publishing works of science fiction since late 2013. Over the years prior, he had dabbled in various forms of writing including haiku poetry, but that all changed when he and his wife, Jo, decided to try their hand at writing and self-publishing. Since then, he has written and published a collection of flash fiction and short stories, two anthologies, a pentalogy, and a trilogy. All his work, to date, has been in the science fiction genre. Most of his stories take place about two centuries in the future when Earth joins the League of Planetary Systems. Many of his protagonists are strong females. He is an inveterate pantser who believes the story will go where the story wants to go. Frank’s background includes degrees in physics and extensive work as a scientific programmer and technologist.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

As bars go, this one was like most I visited since my wife and daughter died. Like clockwork, I would find myself raising my glass in a place such as this one as I remembered them. And like clockwork, the universe would intrude in the space of time between the swallow and the tap of the empty glass against the bar top.

Yoh! Drake, my man. How's it hanging?

Tap.

I looked to my left and saw my Minxer partner, Sledge, smiling at me with xer black eyes and long pointed ears twitching about in random patterns.

Hey, Sledge. Decided to go female today? Love the dress.

Xe looked down at xer outfit. Why this old thing? On any given day, a Minxer could choose their gender. Today was Sledge's girl day. Technically, I could refer to my partner as she and her, but I found the use of non-gender-specific pronouns just easier. Hey, Sheila wants to see you in her office ASAP.

OK, this is interesting. Sheila, of all people, knew that I had today off so having her ask me to come into the office meant something important was happening. I threw a handful of credits on the bar as I got out of my seat. Let's go

Sledge's car waited for us outside. I thought you were driving the Reggo. I said while sliding into the convertible.

SUV's were so yesterday. Today, it's the pink Margie ragtop! To the uninitiated, dealing with a Minxer can be hazardous to one's mental health. I'm immune to the effects.

We arrived at Galactic Police Force HQ and handed-off the car to the valet before stepping inside the building. I had to laugh. Galactic Police Force made us sound like we were protecting a million planets. Ha! We were the security arm of the Confederation of Worlds made up of three member planets and a hundred non-aligned worlds, space stations, asteroids, hordes, family units, and other assorted groups and entities. The GPF kept the order and made sure everyone cleaned up their own slime trails.

Sledge and I found Sheila's secretary waiting for us at his desk. Like me, he was a Seloran and a big one. I guessed he was maybe two meters tall with a tail and wings to match which was unusual in that Seloran males generally tended toward the petite side of the size range. I didn't recognize him which means he was probably new. God help him.

Detectives Kelso and Sledge here to see Chief Inspector Torreon, I announced.

The big guy, Sampson Moffet according to the nameplate on his desk, looked down at me while pressing a button next to the sign. Chief Inspector, Detectives Kelso and Sledge have arrived.

Send them in, Sam, a deep, feminine voice said. Mr. Moffet strode over to the door and opened it before gesturing for us to enter. We stepped inside and found our boss staring out her office's panoramic window. She turned to look at us as Sam closed the door behind us.

Sorry about this Drake, but we just got a hot tip which may interest you, she said while putting all four of her fists on her hips. Like all Sartorans, Sheila had four arms—two large arms in line with her shoulders which could tear printed editions of the tax code in half and two small arms underneath which her race used for delicate work. She was a normal female of her species, i.e. built like a weightlifter.

Not a problem, Chief Inspector. I was finished when Sledge found me.

Sheila looked at my partner. Love the dress, she said. Short-term or long-term?

I think long this time.

Good. Let's get down to business. We got a tip about an arms deal going down on the mining planet of Krakus in the Nelph system.

Krakus? Never heard of it, Sledge said as xe took a seat next to me.

Biosphere 5 planet blessed with vast deposits of high-grade lanxe ore while being at the intersection of three major trade routes. One large town surrounded by hundreds of mostly automated mines. The space port is huge with numerous warehouses, brothels, and taverns, a voice from my wristcomm informed xer.

Hello, Nexus, Sheila said. Is Drake treating you right?

Of course, Chief inspector, my internal partner replied. How are your husband and brood doing?

Eating me out of house and home. The kids are doing fine.

I've met Sheila's husband. He weighs 70 kilos wet. I swear I have never seen him eat or drink anything.

OK, it sounds like a simple stake-out. Why call us?

She reached into a desk drawer and withdrew an object which she placed on the desk in front of me. I froze while Sledge gasped.

Where did you get that? I demanded. It was a limpet mine identical to ones stolen years ago during a depot heist I was investigating when my wife and daughter died. That case, though as cold as death itself, was still open.

This is a fine-detail scan reproduction created from a scan of a crate being sold on Krakus. Your cold case just got very hot.

OK, who's involved? I asked.

No one, so far. The crate got caught in a routine check of a warehouse. The port cops put up a silent cordon around the building while they sorted out the crate's paperwork.

Point of origin? I asked.

Unknown.

Seller?

Nada.

Destination?

She shrugged all four shoulders.

Buyer?

No clue. There was no paperwork, no entry scan, no fingerprints on the crate. Nothing. In fact, a dust storm had passed through the area, so the floor and other crates were covered. Except for our little friend. It was pristine while the dust around it was undisturbed. It was as if the crate had just popped out of thin air.

Did you open it yet? I asked.

No. That part of the warehouse is scheduled to be moved to another part of the building tonight to make room for a maintenance crew. We think the crate will be picked up before the move.

And you want Sledge and me to be ready with a gift basket and a nice cup of hot brix?

It sounds wonderful, Sledge noted. I can't wait.

Good. I've got a spaceport shuttle waiting for you on the roof, and your gear is already aboard. Good luck.

Thank you, ma'am, we replied before heading out the door.

###

After an uneventful trip through hyperspace, the passenger liner entered orbit around Krakus. Shortly after, it broke orbit and headed down to its scheduled landing at the Krakus spaceport. While on final approach, it passed over a Kleptan Transport Ring at the far edge of the spaceport.

How the hell does a backwater planet like Krakus rate a transport ring? Sledge asked. In response, Nexus ran a set of charts through my optical pathways.

This planet rivals Sartor in the number of ships that take-off and land here, I explained. The Kleptans wanted a piece of the action, so they offered the Krakus government a very good rental rate for a plot of land. Krakus has been laughing all the way to the bank.

You're shitting me, xe said.

He is not shitting you, Detective, Nex informed him. Krakus is not only important to the economic life of the Confederation, several non-aligned planets would suffer greatly if it were to cease operation.

We landed a short time later. After collecting our gear, we headed out to the front of the building where we were met by a seedy looking Selzor who took us to an even seedier looking car. Once we were on our way, our driver flashed a badge. Detective Manx, Krakus Planetary Security. Welcome to the armpit of space.

It doesn't look that bad... Sledge noted.

It's early and everyone is either at work or sleeping it off. Night is a different story. Once the bars open, this becomes a war zone.

Can't security handle crowd control? I asked. Sledge cuffed me.

We let them blow off steam, and they appreciate it. Ever work three miles down in a mine for ten-hours? Trust me, they need to blow-off steam.

Buildings and other signs of civilization slowly disappeared as we approached the spaceport

I looked out the window just as we arrived at a ramshackle warehouse no different from a dozen other nearby ramshackle warehouses. After driving through an open door, the vehicle came to a stop amongst dozens of crates bound for worlds across the Federation. While Manx made some calls, we walked over to the mass of crates. Sitting in an open area at the center of the first floor was the crate in question. Nex, has forensics taken any photos of the area?

Of course. Would you like to see them?

Yes, please.

My reality shifted to a virtual scene of the area. I looked around and saw crates stacked to the ceiling all around the crate of limpet mines, each stack covered in dust as was the floor around them. Thanks, Nex. Take me back to my normal vision feed, please. My normal vision returned. Sledge, buddy, what we see here is what we call on Selora an impossibility.

How so, sage detective?

There was no way a drone could get past the surrounding crates without disturbing the dust on them or on the floor.

Could they have replaced the dust?

Nexus? I asked the being living inside my brain.

Raise your hand and pan it around, please.

I did as I was told, almost knocking Sledge over in the process. Watch it with that thing, xe said, referring to the scanner built into the palm of my hand.

Sorry.

Based on the layering of the dust external to the building, I would say no, Nex reported through my wristcomm.

Something about all of this bothered me. Too many questions begging for answers. I walked over and tore the cover off the crate. Sledge, did the scan of the box show the limpet mines being armed?

What? xe demanded as xe ran over to look in the box. No, they were inert, dammit!

"What about a model-83 nuclear detonator sitting on top of the limpets?

Snuggling with the limpet mines was a model-83 nuclear detonator which turned the crate of mines into a dirty bomb which could contaminate a large part of the spaceport.

Manx! I yelled.

He ran over to look in the crate. Shit! I’ve got to call this in! he said as he stepped away to make the call.

Nexus, full scan! I ordered as I held my hand over the pile of death

Scanning... The core is attached to a motion sensor, you move the crate and it explodes, covering half the port in radioactive dust.

Shit, shit, shit! Manx said as he hurried over to stare at the contents of the crate.

Care to share with the rest of the class? I asked calmly.

Three cruise missiles have appeared in the sky east of here. They are targeting this building.

Cruise missiles? Nex exclaimed. Querying planetary defense computers. They're strategic. If you don't move that crate and even one cruise missile makes it through the defense perimeter, we lose this hemisphere of the planet.

ETA of cruise missiles?

Three-minutes. Incoming emergency call from Sheila.

Great. Put her through and turn down the volume this time.

Drake. Why haven't you gotten your skinny dragon ass out of there.

Sheila, Selorans don't have dragons, only the Sartorans have them. Personally, I've never seen a dragon. As for why I'm here, I found an M83 trigger taking a nap with the limpets, so I'm trying to figure out how to save the spaceport. Gotta go. Bye. Nex, block all incoming calls.

Yes, sir.

You never call me sir unless you are nerved out. Are you nerved out?

Yeah, aren't you?

I looked around and saw an aerocycle parked in the corner. No, I'm not nerved out, but I do have an idea.

CHAPTER TWO

He hung up on me! Sheila yelled That leather-winged dragon-want-to-be hung up on me! Report! Sheila ordered to the dozen techs sitting around her as she went into one of her species' infamous combat modes. Mostly, it was due to the frustration. She stood in the Seloran GPF HQ watching remote feeds from Krakus when Sledge appeared on one of the monitors.

Ma'am, two of the cruise missiles have been destroyed. The third one has evaded our defense systems. Time to impact two minutes... Mark! a tech reported

Status of evacuation? Manx had gotten hold of his chief of detectives who had ordered an evacuation of the spaceport and surrounding town.

Ships are dusting off, but the townsfolk are staying put, Sledge reported from a remote command center near the warehouse. Most of them are down in the mines. Better there than caught in the open.

Chief Inspector! A radiation source has appeared just outside the warehouse. It's moving, a tech reported.

Heading?

Directly toward the transport ring.

She looked at the image of Sledge. Care to elaborate?

Drake was able to disconnect the motion sensor. He grabbed the core and took off on an aerocycle. He plans to fly it someplace where it can be safely disposed of.

Chief Inspector! another tech said as she flicked switches.

Report!

Unauthorized activation of transport ring, a second tech reported.

Destination?

Inferno-6. Portal has been established. Thermal shields in place... Wait one... Destination coordinates shifting...

That's impossible. The destination cannot be changed once the portal has been established.

Confirmed. Destination has changed... Current destination is not in the databanks.

What the hell are you talking about? Sledge demanded. There are only 100 rings in existence, and all of them are cataloged.

Ma'am, there are now 101 gates, one of which is totally unknown.

Get me a visual!

On screen, a third tech said.

A Seloran flying a one-person aerocycle came into view.

And there's your radiation source, Sledge said. Strapped to the cycle's rear seat was the M83.

That insane... Time to impact?

Ma'am, the missile has changed course. It is now aimed directly at the cycle.

It must be homing in on the M83, Sledge said.

Warn him! Sheila ordered.

Unable to make contact...

He already knows, Sledge said. On the screen, Drake took the cycle to within inches of the road surface where he flew down side alleys and cross streets at impossible speeds. Only a Seloran can fly like that and survive.

Unfortunately, the missile kept up with him, matching his flight maneuver to maneuver. Slowly, inexorably, the missile gained on the cycle until only inches separated them. Just as the missile was about to hit, the cycle, the M83, Drake, and the missile disappeared into the ring. For a moment, nothing happened, then the ring exploded. For a moment, no one in the control room moved. Emergency protocol six. All stations! Contact Nexus.

The techs jumped into action, relaying a standard sitrep request through all ships, planetary communications nodes, and the remaining transport rings. If Drake and Nexus were within a light-year of the Confederation, they would hear it and respond if they were alive.

Report!

No response, ma'am. All stations report quiet.

Sheila looked at Sledge who looked back with tears in xer eyes. Drake Kelso is dead, xe whispered.

###

Back at the GPF HQ on Selora, things went from bad to strange when the data from the incident leading up to Drake's death was analyzed as part of the coroner's inquest. Video feeds, scanner data, and radio logs were scrutinized with a fine-tooth comb. Finally, after a week of scrutiny, a report was handed to Sledge. With a cup of brix in hand, xe sat down at xer desk and read it.

After an hour filled with exclamations, pacing, and dumbfounded looks, the Minxer detective got out of xer seat with report in hand and hurried to Sheila's office where she stormed past the shocked receptionist to enter her boss's office unannounced. Inside, she found Sheila and a