The Brutus Code

Controller: I cannot find them.

Sutton: Yes.

Controller: They are gone.

Sutton: Instructions?

Controller: You know Thomas well. Suggestions?

Sutton: He will want answers. He has skills. Wasted in the Postal Service. He will use what he knows to find them.

Controller: We cannot rely on the hope that he knows enough to find them.

Sutton: We need to know what he knows.

Controller: How?

Sutton: We wait. Change the order and wait.

Controller: There are dangers in that.

Sutton: Yes, for Tommy.

Controller: Then we wait. And we hope for Tommy.

Finding a MOM should have been easy. They kept a regular schedule and rotated through their assigned route often. Alfred consulted the posted schedule to determine what course to plot. Barring any unforeseen delays, they should have no trouble finding Tommy’s, mom’s MOM. So, of course there was trouble.

For this jump to the Fringe system, Gliese 163, Tommy piloted the Swift out of warped space on an outer approach to the system. They broadcast the standard ID beacon as they approached, but both Tommy and Alfred learned from their last system. They kept the email delivery broadcast close. Not part of Tommy’s regular route. Each PS courier stored electronic data packages beyond their own route and broadcast the entirety in each system to catch other couriers and pass along the most recent data dumps for all systems served by the Postal Service. Because they carried none of this system’s mail packages, they avoided questions about their manifest and did not have to broadcast it.

They waited for a reply to their first beacon ping and inquiry for approach. Alfred ventured, “I suppose I could hack our manifest and remove Agnes’ casket from the inventory.”

“Illegal” Tommy replied.

“True, but it would save us the trouble of everybody shooting at us,” Alfred responded. Alfred had not hacked in to delete Agnes’ invoice code because he opposed to the illegality of it. But, in an ethical dilemma, weighing the safety of Tommy and the Swift against the danger that little code signified.

“Send a copy,” Tommy suggested. And after an appropriate pause, “edited.”

“Isn’t that also illegal?”

“Not the truth. Not illegal,” Tommy’s said. “Check legal precedence on the Fringe.” The Fringe chafed at the Core System’s convoluted legal code. Although part of the same government, out here they kept it much simpler. Each star system adopted its own local precedence for the laws their citizens wished to live by.

“My barrister sub-routines are not kept up to date.” In the time it took Alfred to say this he checked his legal database. He added, “There is nothing stating that a copy of a manifest cannot be sent.” Alfred prepared the copy as he said this and edited it to protect the Swift and its crew from unwanted harm. “The data dump is on its way. Now we’ll see if it works.”

At the distance they entered this system, it took two hours for their signal to be picked up by the only inhabited outpost. This small mining outpost typified most settlements on the Fringe. Small being several million souls on several orbiting support stations and large mining ships throughout the system. With no habitable planets humanity found most hostile places home while resources brought a profit. The Fringe drew smaller companies and independent co-ops of malcontents that found they needed the wide-open spaces out of reach of the Central Systems. Many went back to the core having made their fortunes. Others came out and stayed, preferring the freedom away from the large bureaucracies of the core. Listed as lost, still others never made it here or back and were never heard from again, many of them soldiers from the Wars.

“Send the drone again,” Tommy said soon after Alfred sent their email data dump. “Let’s see how safe it really is.” Alfred prepped and launched the drone as Tommy set the Swift a course and speed to follow their signals, but not too close. Standard procedure when entering a system, announce yourself and then follow the signal. Tommy did not follow close today. As the signal sped ahead of the Swift, the ship cruised behind, dropping speed as it went. This would give them plenty of time and distance to make a quick escape.

Still thirty light minutes out from the outpost they received a signal. “Swift, this is Outpost Landis control. Received and acknowledge ID. Please proceed to Main Dock, Bay Fifteen.”

Tommy logged the instructions for docking. “Odd. They have a Postal Service Dock. Why not send us there?”

“There is a signal from our drone piggybacked on their signal. Internal com systems show that the sheriff and deputies are moving to dock fifteen with orders to detain you and impound the Swift. It appears that we have been branded rogue and orders have spread to approach with caution using any force necessary. At least they’re not trying to shoot at us.”

“Improvement?” Tommy smirked as he replied. “Recall the drone. As soon as we know where the MOM went, we go, too.”

“Right, boss,” Alfred replied, noting from Tommy’s light tone he enjoyed the challenge.

In the Med Bay again, Agnes got really tired of these walls. She had stopped vomiting. Even though this was the first time she could clearly remember vomiting, she remembered that feeling of nausea and she didn’t like it now either. Her head hurt, her throat was raw, her nose was running, and her eyes were gummy. She was dog-tired but her body wouldn’t let her rest. Alfred promised he would give her a sedative when she stopped barfing.

“Alfred,” she moaned into the air.

“Yes, Agnes,” Alfred spoke in soothing tones near her ear. “Are you feeling any better?”

“No, worse, but no more puke,” she said. “Can I go to sleep now?” She hated the way she sounded so needy. Agnes wanted to think that she had always been an independent person who took care of herself, but she couldn’t remember. She feared that she might have been this whiny, needy child.

“Yes, you get your rest. Let your body heal and fight off the virus. I will monitor you. Do not worry, I am always here for you.” That comforted her as her lids got heavier. Her last thought as she drifted off was how nice it was to have daddy taking care of her. And she slept.

Aboard the Landis Way-station, Sheriff Roberta Cooper grumbled. Morning station time, and she’d just gotten to her office when the call came in from the System Control office about the rogue PS ship. So, before she enjoyed her morning coffee and doughnut, she rounded up her deputies and made her way to Dock Fifteen. The power in that section of the station was still set for night operations and the corridors were dimly lit. She met Roger Eagle and Richard Doolittle at the hatch and waited. Roger had the sense to grab a thermos of coffee from the diner, or was lucky enough to have stopped before he got his call to duty this morning.

“Sheriff, they have acknowledged their instructions and are on approach. Fifteen minutes to dock,” squawked the sheriff’s com.

“Alright, Alice. Keep me posted.” Eyeing Roger’s thermos with envy, she nodded at him and asked, “Got enough to share?” Roger passed her a cup. She sipped the coffee with relief, inhaling the aroma of the steam as it rose off the surface of her cup.

“Five minutes,” came the next warning. She handed the cup back to her deputy and cautioned. “Okay boys. The report says this is a rogue ship. Our job is to apprehend the crew and impound the ship. They are reported to be dangerous, so take no chances. Shoot first and we’ll figure it all out later. And for gosh sakes watch the fuel tanks in there, we don’t need any more repairs to the slip this year.”

The three law enforcement officers, having already put on their military grade environment suits, waited with weapons drawn.

The MOM had not arrived on schedule. Not a concern yet, the MOMs often met with delays because of the nature of the medical service that each system on their routes required. It was time to retrace that route. As soon as the drone docked, Tommy plotted a course and the Swift left the system.

While on the station Roberta and her men still waited. Ten more minutes passed. No vibration in the deck plates of a ship docking. No hiss as environments equalized pressure. And no word came from the System Control office. Her coffee began to work on her. She was awake, but she had to relieve herself. As sheriff, she rarely wore one of the awful suits and never for long periods of time. She hated the catheter and hadn’t attached it. Why bother when the perps were docking so politely for her to nab anyway? Another five minutes of suffering bladder passed before she called the System Control.

“System Control, what are you boys playing at? We’ve got no contact down here.”

“Sorry Sheriff, we’re just now getting the signal back. They’ve bugged out. But they delivered the mail.”

If her bloodshot eyes didn’t feel like they had sand in them and her bladder didn’t scream for relief, she might have shot someone. Instead she turned on her heels back to the suit lockers and stripped along the way. Neither deputy said a word.

Agnes heard no voices, but someone was there. A hand pulled away from her forehead and a light came on. She was in her bedroom. Plush animals lined the shelves on her walls. Favorite books sat next to her and her school tablet lay on the floor next to her slippers. She was eight.

The hand belonged to her father. He pulled a thermometer out of a pouch and slid it into her ear. Five seconds later, she heard it beep. He examined the readout and pulled out a syringe, took off the cap and injected her arm. It stung, but soon she felt better. With relief from her pain, she found sleep and slipped into another dream.

Now she received her award. She was part of a team and her parents sat front and center of the auditorium. Her mother held a bundle in her arms and comforted it with a rocking motion. Disappointed that her brother wasn’t there to see her honors, his absence couldn’t trump her feelings of pride and accomplishment. As she shook the hand of her department advisor, she smiled and looked right into the eyes of her father.

When Agnes took her gaze away from those eyes, the pain in them shamed her. She worked hard with the doctors to ease that pain. Their drugs and her technology failed to save her mother. And yet her father was proud of her. Tears filled her mother’s eyes. Agnes’ mother lay in the bed dying. Agnes reached out to hold her mother’s hand.

Her father let go of her hand so Agnes could comfort her sister. The funeral service had been short as most were on the Frontier. A few words and her mother’s body was launched into space. Now his staff surrounded her father. Not a wake of friends and coworkers, this was a postmortem on a patient. She turned to the view port full of stars.

The stars faded into the lights in the operating theatre as blurry masked figures moved in and out of her field of vision. On the table lay a wounded soldier. Most of her body was gone. She saw the mark on her shoulder, a tattoo. She felt cold. And now Agnes lay on the table. Was she dying like her mother? One figure leaned close and she saw a mark on her neck. It was the soldier she had seen on the table. Her biomechanical interface showed. Agnes didn’t like the scars that formed that mark. She saw next to the wall of the room the container. It was hers. She had built it. It was hers. She would lie in it. She would die in it. It was her casket. And she faded again.

The last system on the MOM’s route, HD 1461, was slightly larger than the Sol System. Two gas giants in the outer system, a wide asteroid belt and the inner system and three burned out cinder planets that had never been kissed by an atmosphere, orbited leisurely around a yellow dwarf star that wasn’t much use for solar energy to the outpost. The outpost orbited the inner most gas giant. An orbiting refinery provided services where the systems mining ships docked and cashed in their loads of minerals and syphoned gasses. With a population of thirty thousand souls, the outpost was home to around ten thousand at a time. The rest mined the system in ships and on smaller claims in the belt or on the inner worlds eking out what existence they could.

En route, Agnes’ condition worsened. Alfred could control the fever to an extent, but Agnes moved in and out of consciousness as she battled the virus that threatened her body. While Alfred nursed her physical body, Tommy sat vigil at her side. As a Postal Service courier Tommy was not immune to the vast grandeur of the galaxy in which he journeyed. Like most of humanity he had an ingrained spirituality deep in his space faring bones. He gave a silent prayer for healing and an end to the suffering that Agnes endured. Alfred feared her time was short. She had not fully recovered from her hibernation when the virus hit.

MOM ALPHA-ONE docked with the Make-Haste outpost near the habitat rings. The outpost consisted of a series of long strands or passageways. Rotating rings of various sizes and in random locations throughout the maze of connecting strands housed the residents. In the industrial section the rings were smaller and served as offices for the various corporations that processed, stored and shipped the mined ore. Each ring spun. It was cheap artificial gravity, relying on centrifugal force rather than gravity generators. Both older and cheaper than converting to newer construction with gravity panels in the floors the community of Make Haste made do. Tommy identified many sections as salvaged parts from cargo containers and older ships. The strands were corridors for travel and served as storage and processing space for the station. The strands of passageways connected the center of each ring through which the inhabitants passed in 0g to the next ring. These created a grid with no pattern. The outpost grew, as it needed space.

The Swift approached with the same learned caution. The eerie silence of the station added to Tommy’s alert and cautious approach. Tommy had sent their standard ID code with no response. “Please stand by,” repeated on all channels. The MOM docked at what should have been a busy and bustling center of commerce. The outpost hung silently in space.

“It appears that there are power outages at key points in the outpost,” Alfred reported. “Most of the habitat rings are slowing their rotation due to friction with the connecting corridor strands and there are stress fractures and breakages at points near each ring. The refinery appears untouched.”

“What about MOM?” Tommy asked.

“There is no communication from the ship. Exterior sections are showing reduced power. It looks like four of the Impulse A/W engines are gone and the main drive is damaged.”

“Your conclusion is pirates.”

“Yes, Tommy. I fear so.”

“Other ships evacuated. MOM couldn’t,” Tommy feared.

This MOM was a larger version of the Swift. With no friction from atmosphere in space and the common engine design, most ships looked similar. Their size changed to define their function. MOMs were converted cargo and troop haulers during the war. The MOM program began late in the Wars as a solution to losing so many casualties during transit to more centralized medical units. The idea was if the injured couldn’t make it to the hospital, then the hospital came to them. After the war populations grew. Soldiers looked for opportunities to put combat behind them. Homesteading exploded across the outer Frontier systems and gave birth to the Fringe. The need for medical treatment in the growing number of small outposts expanded the MOM program, and it became very profitable. Except with the small settlements that refused to join the central government. These groups refused the medical help offered them and soon piracy reared its ugly head.

“Tommy, Agnes is unconscious again. We need to get her to the MOM.” Alfred’s tone was grave.

“Yes, launch the drone for surveillance. Pirates may return.”

“Tommy, I’ve constructed three more drones. I think we should launch all but one.”

“Do it.”

The Swift maneuvered to a point behind the MOM. Each ship’s large rear cargo hatch were designed to dock and exchange cargo despite their size. The heavy-duty nature of the docking link allowed Postal Service ships to haul multiple containers on their routes like a train. The couriers, although smaller, still had the hauling capacity of the larger ships with their A/W drives.

By the time they docked, Tommy sealed Agnes back in a suit and lowered the gravity to zero. Tommy slipped his personal media player into a pocket of his suit. He also carried a personal side arm designed for use inside space ships. It shot gelatinous goo balls or needle darts, powered by compressed air cartage. Neither the dart nor the goo ball would damage a ship’s hull. Weapons that blew holes through walls exposed the interior to the vacuum of space. The ball stopped a person or electronics with an electrical charge. The dart could inflict minor damage or kill if necessary. It looked much like a paintball gun still popular with teens to play capture the flag.

Tommy signaled, “Alfred, bring three spider avatars.”

“I was thinking five with additional in reserve. We don’t know if there are still pirates aboard.” Alfred responded. “I’m opening the hatch now. There is no contact with the internal systems. Use the manual controls to open their side of the air lock.”

“Yes,” Tommy’s responded. Tommy had seen his share of ground missions even as a pilot during the war. Now, he too easily snapped back into that training and those reflexes. He said a soldier’s prayer as he floated through their hatch to the MOM’s cargo door. Part of that prayer asked for the miracle of turning his suit from a standard Postal Service environmental issue to a military grade combat suit. He guessed that the pirates at least wore surplus military grade suits. Instead, Tommy relied on his experience and his friend, Alfred.

Tommy punched in a standard emergency access code used by the Postal Service. One of Alfred’s spiders brought up a drill to the manual crank in readiness to power the hatch. Before Alfred cracked it open, however, Tommy rotated and oriented himself so the floor was the ceiling and anchored himself against it. The use of gravity plates on ships defined up and down. This helped more of humanity adapt to the harsh environment of space. Tommy used this as a precaution and to add an element of surprise. Once Tommy was in place Alfred opened the hatch.

An armed woman stood and shouted at them from within the darkened cargo hold, “Come on out. You’ve got no choice.” Gravity still worked in the MOM hold and there was atmosphere.

Alfred had a few surprises of his own ready. One of his avatars carried a portable hologram generator. It passed through the hatch projecting the image of a walking Postal Service Courier, seemingly oblivious to the danger she faced. Instantly darts passed through the image, but Alfred prepared for this. His courier collapsed in a spray of blood. Three pirates came out from behind cargo containers to check their handy work.

Tommy selected his ammo, took aim and opened fire. His projectiles hit their mark before any of the three knew what was happening. Despite two being in full armor, the “goo ball” Tommy fired, froze their systems, and they went down, trapped in dead suits. The third was in charge of the squad. She wore no armored suit. When hit the ball shocked her system with an electrical jolt. She collapsed unconscious. Alfred’s avatar spiders connected to their communications network and checked the internal security systems of the MOM. His hologram projector now projected the three pirates standing over the simulation of the dead Postal Service Courier.

Alfred patched Tommy into their communications link and into what few connections he could make with the MOM’s internal system. Tommy listened as Alfred mimicked the woman’s voice reporting back to the rest of the pirates in the MOM. “We got her. These PS Courier ships only have one pilot. We’ll check the manifest to see what’s in there and let you know what we find.”

“Nice,” Tommy grinned. On his helmet’s HUD, he now had access to security cameras in the MOM. “How many?” he asked.

“Looks like a boarding crew of fifteen, including these three. Two are on the bridge. They’re monitoring systems and security feeds. I can fool the monitors by sending a false image to them. Six are on the OR deck. It looks like they are trying to torch the hatch to access the interior. I’ve got no feed to the interior of the OR. The ER deck is in shambles. Two more are there packing up what meds they can find. Strange, none of the patient wards are occupied. They’ve been ransacked, but no patients. The last two are at the ship’s computer core. They’ve set explosives but are attempting a hack into the system. It appears to be shutting down but is caught in a logic loop.”

“Crew?”

“No bodies, and no sign of them. Tommy, the crew knew. Maybe they escaped with the other ships?”

“No. If there were patients, they couldn’t leave the ship. They’re still here.” Tommy said. “Take the computer core. You make the ship ready for 0g. Grab Agnes. Make her ready to move ASAP. I’ve got the OR. Need four avatars and four projectors.”

Alfred’s avatars moved off through the ship to the computer core. In the core, two pirates hunched over a terminal. Both wore coveralls. A micro spider used for maintenance in the crawlspaces of the Swift slipped into the hold unnoticed. Crawling across the ceiling above the pirates, it secured a safety line to the light and lowered itself to just above their necks. The two were so focused on hacking into the computer system that they did not notice the shadow of the spider cross the screen in front of their faces. Alfred waited for a moment when neither pirate was touching the computer interface. The spider then tapped both pirates on the back of the neck with an electrically charged leg sufficient to knock them out. His other avatars disarmed the two and bound them.

“Computer control room secure. An avatar is connected to the core, but there is no access,” Alfred reported. Tommy sent an access code to the avatar. “Access established. I’m now gassing the two on the bridge. Zero gravity ready.”

Tommy moved into position. Two of Alfred’s avatars clung to the walls nearby. “Now!” The gravity shut down. Tommy pushed off the wall and shot down the corridor like a rocket, firing as he went. As they lost purchase on the floor one pirate using a torch to cut through the hatch, with no luck cut another pirate’s foot off. Tommy hit him with an anesthesia goo ball. A spider shut down the torch. Tommy shot another one before the last three returned fire. With no place to hide, Tommy landed in the middle of them and was caught in the crossfire. The pirates were shooting at each other now. One died by friendly fire. The last two fell victim to a spider zap and a needle dart from Tommy’s gun to the leg. Both went down despite wearing military suits.

Globules of blood floated in the 0g from the fallen pirate on the opposite wall. Where Tommy floated over the last pirate a smear of blood stained the ceiling. “Tommy, you’ve been hit.”

“Got my suit with a dart. Don’t laugh, flesh wound to the butt,” Tommy admitted. Just then the pirate who lost a foot drew a gun and aimed squarely at Tommy’s helmet. A spider wrapped a leg around her wrist as she fired and the shot missed. In the zero gravity of the corridor, the spider could not get any purchase. Tommy pushed off the wall and tackled her with the spider in tow. But as Tommy completed the tackle, she rolled in the air, tapped a wall with her remaining foot and shot down a side corridor to escape. This one had military training. She was still a mercenary.

The spider still attached to her wrist and trailed behind her. It attempted to wrap additional legs around her limbs but only managed to grab her injured leg. Hog-tied like a calf at a rodeo, she still had one free hand and leg. Tommy recovered by now, pursued her down the hallway. Badly aimed shots zipped past him as he realized that she had transferred her weapon to her other hand. Still wrestling with the spider and trying to kill Tommy, she did not notice the end of the hall and a wall coming up fast. Her head slammed into the wall first at an odd angle and the mass of her body did the rest. There was a distinct snap and her body bounced off the wall limply, her unblinking eyes staring at nothing.

“That’s all of them, Tommy. We have regained the MOM,” Alfred reported through Tommy’s earbud.

“Good. Move the dead to cold storage on the Swift. Rest bind. Can you handle that?” Tommy said.

“Not a problem, Tommy,” replied Alfred.

“And Alfred,” Tommy paused. “Thanks.”

Alfred understood. “Of course, Tommy. I’m always here.” Tommy always relied on Alfred in tight spots and even as a constant companion. Tommy took pains to be sure that he did not take Alfred for granted. An artificial intelligence Alfred may be, but he was still a friend.

Tommy went back to the operating theatre hatch and found the damaged entrance pad. It took a few minutes to repair it. He punched in an access code that shouldn’t work but the door opened. Tommy was greeted with chaos and suspicious looks. The staff had built a barricade against the hatch. Behind that, they armed themselves with anything they found in the OR. Short clubs that had once been parts of furniture or equipment predominated. Tommy understood the thought, but right now he had to calm them down and show he was not a pirate.

Placing his weapon on the ground Tommy held his hands out above his head. He turned to show his Postal Service ID patches on his suit. “Tommy Judson, Postal Service Courier. I have a patient who needs help.” He subvocalized to Alfred, “Bring Agnes now.”

“Trust him.” The gentle voice of a woman sounded through the OR antechamber. At that signal, men and women in various colored hospital jumpsuits and scrubs emerged from behind the barrier.

The OR had gravity. It may have been Tommy’s uniform, but most likely the sight of blood on the butt of his suit. As soon as the medical staff saw a person in need their training took over. They moved from behind the barricade to get a stretcher under Tommy in his EV suit. A middle-aged man in a white jumper with a paramedic emblem on his sleeve took charge. He turned back to Tommy and asked, “It sounded bad. Are there any other wounded?”

“Yes, broken neck down the hall with a severed foot and one leg wound.” Tommy reported as he removed his helmet. Under the established gravity of the OR, Tommy moved with a limp.

“Looks like you’ve been hit, too?” The paramedic cocked a quizzical eye at their savior. “This way, we’ll take a look. By the way I’m Larry, welcome aboard our MOM. She’s one of the earliest to be commissioned.”

Tommy winced as they led him to a curtained bed off to the side of the main chamber for the OR. “Hi. You’re welcome. And I’ll only admit to a flesh wound,” he protested. “Can’t sit.” Tommy removed what he needed of his suit so the paramedic could get to his wound, clean and dress it. “I need to see your MOM.”

“Just a couple of minutes. I know she’ll want to see you,” Larry replied as he ministered to Tommy’s wounded pride, his butt.

Around them the staff put the OR antechamber and recovery area back into a respectable order. It dominated the main fuselage of the MOM as a large spherical space in the center. Here they lowered the gravity to allow easy movement of patients and to ease their body’s recoveries. Layered like an onion all areas were accessible to the staff. Recovery stations lined this first layer where Tommy was being stitched. Above them, the next layer several housed operation theatres where surgeons worked their miracles. In the center of this sphere hung another spherical chamber, which could be clear or opaque. The location of the office of the MOM’s administrator, this was the staff member who served as their chief of staff and usually, their top surgeon. The ship’s captain and crew maintained and ran its operations. It was the MOMA, Mobil Orbiting Medicine Administrator, who was truly in charge of the MOM.

“Where is the crew? I only see medical staff here,” Tommy asked.

Larry took a grim moment before he responded, “Dead. They bought us time to get the patients into the OR and then sealed us in before the pirates could get this far. They gave us time and you saved us.”

“We’re almost there,” Alfred murmured to him in his earbud. As Tommy turned back to the hatch, two of Alfred’s avatars maneuvered Agnes through the hatch at the end of a corridor outside the OR unit.

An electrical zap and two distinct pops came from the corridor. Alfred’s avatars towing Agnes blew up when struck by the same kind of goo ball that Tommy used on the pirates. Before anyone reacted to grab Agnes or close the OR hatch, two pirates snatched her out of the air and put a lethal dart gun to the underside of her helmet.

“Nobody touches anything or I spatter her pretty brain all over the inside of her helmet.” This guy was big and he wore the most advanced military EV suit that Tommy had seen on any of the pirates yet. He also sported a tattoo of a reaper’s scythe with the blade under his left eye and the stylized handle curved along his jawbone. The staff followed his neck to his collarbone. His tattoo included drops of blood running down the blade and staff, pooling in the shape of a wolf at his collarbone.

“Sorry Tommy, these are the two from the ER. They aren’t showing up on any internal sensors anymore. Those suits must scramble the internal motion and visual scanners. The only way I detect them is through my own avatars,” Alfred shared through Tommy’s earbud. Tommy dared not respond with a gun to Agnes’ head.

“Now we’re going to join your nice little party,” said the other pirate, this one a woman. She sounded harder and more battle worn than many of Tommy’s buddies from the Wars. Tommy saw through her helmet, she had a scar along her left chin and one of her eyes was artificial. Her right arm was a prosthetic appendage attached directly to her suit. She had access to an arsenal with it. She also had two scythes tattooed on her neck, under her right jaw. The staffs crossed in an “X” with angel’s wings. This was bad. Tommy stood there with his EV suit pants down, helmet off and his gun nowhere near his reach.

The pirates floated through the hatch and landed gracefully on the floor inside the OR when they reached the light gravity. The big guy dropped Agnes in a heap on the floor next to him. She let out a small groan. Tommy saw she was feverish.

“That’s right. Everybody’s going to have a real nice time at our party,” said the woman. Turning to Tommy as she recognized his Postal Service emblem on the sleeve of his suit. “Starting with you handsome.” She strutted up to Tommy. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble, but you opened the door so nice for us and found such a treasure here.” She looked at Tommy’s suit pants gathered around his knees. “Gee, aren’t you glad to see me. Too bad.”

The female pirate reached up with her weapon arm to slide it up his inner thigh when Agnes shouted, “NOW Alfred!”

With the signal, the scarred woman turned to be hit in the face with one of Alfred’s small spider avatars holding its legs into a point. These avatars designed and built to face the hardest conditions in space pierced the faceplate of her helmet and then expanded into the helmet. The electrical surge shorted the whole unit.

At the same time, Agnes kicked the legs out from under the big Gorilla pirate. He landed on the faceplate of his helmet. Agnes then rolled over and landed on top of him. She pulled out several circuits from his suit and crossed them with wires from her own, shorting out both. By the time they hit the floor neither pirate could move. Then Agnes fainted into unconsciousness again.

Moments earlier, Agnes was jarred awake as soon as the big pirate grabbed her and manhandled her through the OR hatch. Dropping her had brought her fully awake. The first thing she saw was Tommy with his blood stained suit pants down around his knees. “Alfred?” she whispered.

“Try to lie still, Agnes.” Alfred suggested through her helmet on a low volume.

“No Alfred. HUD display of room.” She requested. Through her haze, she saw the placement of everyone in the room and that Alfred had sent additional avatars into the hall, ready, should an opportunity present itself. Something clicked into place in her mind. She tapped into a skill set that she did not know she had, strategic planning. “Al, be ready for my signal,” she whispered back. The avatars made ready to launch one of their own. The weight of her body trapped her right arm under her when she was dropped. With her free hand she pulled out two leads and wire from her standard belt pack tool kit. When she saw the chance, she signaled, “NOW Alfred!” Agnes kicked out, rolled over and found the weakness she knew was on the back of the suit. Jamming her electric leads into the slot, she shorted out the Gorilla pirate’s suit. She stayed conscious just long enough to see Tommy pull up his pants and disarm both pirates.

Larry took charge again. “What are her symptoms?” Alfred passed along the vitals by handing the paramedic a tablet from the Swift’s own Medical Bay. He took it, scanned it and frowned. “We’ve got a contagion here people. Let’s get her to a quarantine chamber immediately. Let MOMA know we’ve admitted a new patient.” A team now gently gathered Agnes up and placed her on a gurney. Their precise action showed professionalism, as they carried her away, deeper into the ship to an adjunct chamber for quarantine. Two of the staff met them wearing hazmat suits and took Agnes into the chamber to prep her for an exam.

“More pirates?” Tommy asked Alfred.

“I’m running out of avatars, but I’ll search MOM for any more while I assign them to repair what we can. I’ve also closed the hatch between MOM and the Swift. We don’t want any aboard.”

“Outpost?”

“I’ve got no way to search the whole complex. We need to assume there are pirates there as well. And if the pirates left a crew, their ships will be back to pick them up. Our drones are placed to signal us when they do return.”

Tommy left the OR and made his way to the docking port on the MOM. Larry followed. “Need to secure MOM from station. No power to engines?” he asked.

“The pirates took that out first. They were practiced in this move. I’ve seen this before, during the war. It was a move our marines did once they boarded an insurgent’s ship.” Larry shared.

“Looked familiar,” Tommy said. He and Larry reached the boarding tube that extended to the station at this habitat ring. Beyond lay a large docking bay that the inhabitants of Make-Haste station used to come and go. MOMs practiced an open door policy. Tommy floated down the tube into the bay. Three hatches faced him. Each hatch led to a separate strand and different habitat ring of the station. They opened each one and hid a sensor pod from the MOM in the corridor beyond the hatch. These Alfred used as an early warning signal.

“Tommy, I am receiving chatter from somewhere inside the outpost. I’ve been able to give responses based on what I heard of the pirates on MOM, but they will return.” Alfred warned.

“Let them come.” Tommy replied. “Here’s what I want to do.”

Several hours passed since Jackson checked in with Anderson back on the MOM. That mechanized abomination should never have been put in charge. Here they found a respectable haul of goods, plenty of loot for everybody and she has them looking all over the outpost for the Dead Letter Office of the Postal Service. She’d said something about collecting a lost package. Instead of the Post Office, his buddies and he had found the well stocked bar and had themselves quite a party. It could have gone on longer, too, if there was anything left to drink or break.

When the recall code sounded on his suit com unit, he’d been having himself a good sleep. He removed someone’s leg from his face and his hand from one of a woman’s boots. He roused himself and stood.

“All right losers,” he broadcast as he shoved yet another sodden body off the pile that buried him. “Rise and shine. Momma bear wants us back in the tree with all our little faces clean and shiny.” Jackson smirked. He wasn’t sure which would be better, letting Anderson ream them a new one for drinking first or shoving the data cube they recovered within the first ten minutes on the station up her nose first. As he relished these private thoughts, he knew he’d never do it. She’d never give him the chance. Anderson scared most all the crew. She lived in that suit. The crew thought nothing human survived inside that suit anymore and she just kept the head to show she had been human once. And that Swiss army knife arm of hers could eviscerate a man in seconds. He didn’t have to speculate. He’d seen it.

So Jackson continued to gather up his squad of nine. They lumbered back to the MOM where the core of their boarding party stayed to strip the real prize, a medical ship. Three other squads searched the outpost with different orders, but all were to meet back at the MOM upon recall. Once Jackson’s squad awoke, he kicked their butts to double time it back to the boarding dock.

When they arrived the other squads were there, having trouble with the hatches to the dock. Jackson grabbed Stanwick, the explosives expert, and sent her up to the hatches. Ten minutes later, they blew the hinges and pried all three hatches off the wall. As the first squad entered the dock, they felt the unmistakable vibration of explosives in a vacuum. Those combat ready squads with their helmets sealed survived. Jackson and most of his cocky squad failed to seal their helmets. As vacuum of space sucked them out the exterior hatch they each died.

As the other two squads struggled to hang on in the loading dock, Tommy’s goo balls peppered them from behind. His shots immobilized and froze their suits. None of their weapons worked. They uselessly fought the rush of escaping atmosphere from the immediate corridors inside the outpost. Other emergency hatches closed deeper within the station. The pressure and debris pushed the pirates out the main hatch.

The MOM still sat there. Their minds could not accept what was happening. There should have been a hard seal against the MOM’s hatch. Some of them saw as they passed into the MOM’s hold that there was a gap between the ship and the station where atmosphere escaped. Inside of the MOM, all the pirates were caught in a strange net that further scrambled their systems and shut down any chance of their suits rebooting its operating system. And the last insult, gently floating inside the hold, feet magnetized to the wall, was a Postal Service employee, smiling at them.

Tommy and Alfred planned well. The odds figured twenty to one. They set a trap that completely took care of the pirates. Alfred’s avatar spiders did much of the work, placing charges that separated the MOM from the station without damaging her atmospheric integrity. Tommy rigged the loading dock interior hatches to jam, which forced the pirates either to explode them or force them open and damage the door mechanism. The most elegant aspect of the trap was to surround the interior hatches with bags of goo balls. The escaping atmosphere pulled them loose, and the pirates were immobilized from behind by their own actions.

Alfred added two final touches. It was his suggestion to have his spiders weave a web of their safety lines and charge them to shut down any restart sequence in the pirates’ suits. And since MOM’s systems remained offline, Alfred used the Swift, securely docked at the end of MOM to maintain the distance from the station. That way they collected the pirates in MOM’s hold. The squad that died had only themselves to blame, but their bodies were captured.

Once Tommy closed the exterior hatch on MOM’s cargo bay and pressurized the bay, he met Larry at the interior door. With no gravity inside the passageways of the MOM they lashed the living together to move.

“Have you got someplace to stow them?” Tommy asked.

“We’re equipped with a psych ward. Let’s stow them with the others as soon as we decant them from their suits. Had some trouble with that gal that went after you. Seems most of her really was her suit. Your AI shut down anything that could be dangerous. She wouldn’t shut up though. We had to lock her in her own padded cell. We could shut down her arm and legs, but not her mouth.” Larry explained. “Are you heading back to the OR? MOMA still wants to see you. She definitely wants to thank you for what you’ve done.”

“Gotta stop to make. Repairs,” Tommy’s replied and as soon as they’d handed the pirates off to additional medical staff, he went to the central computer core. There he pulled out his personal media player and plugged it into a direct interface with the ship’s computer. “OK Alfred. Time to do some repairs and look around.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Alfred said through the audio speakers on the media player. “I’ll let you know what I find.” As soon as the data transfer bar on the screen scrolled from red to green, Tommy unplugged the player and tucked it away in his suit.

Now it was time to face what he’d been putting off. Tommy had a long overdue appointment, a reunion with his mother.