Chapter 97

Help Wanted

Talia pulled up her tablet. “Alexander asked me to look into this a few weeks back, so I’ve had time to work through the options.”

She slid the tablet closer to Alexander, angling it so he could see it better. Augustus leaned forward from across the table, reading upside down. “Got the intel from our usual broker on Astra Omnia. Military assets were obviously out. Commercial and charter services wouldn’t work for several reasons: exposure and documentation, plus we’d need a lot of transfers.”

Talia navigated through screens, dismissing files as she talked. “Purchasing a jump-capable ship would drain our operational funds and then some. That left borrowing from someone who wouldn’t miss it right away.” She glanced at Alexander. “Figured you’d end up narrowing it down to Santiago anyway, so I focused there.”

Seven ship profiles filled the screen.

“These are our options,” Talia said.

Augustus leaned forward, studying the display even upside down. He dismissed the first three with barely a glance. “Too large. We’d need forty crew minimum for this one, thirty for these two. They’re fat birds in a fight, and the personnel demands are too high.”

Four ships remained.

Annie tilted her head at one of them. “That one’s ugly. Also, it’s a transport. We need something that can fight if we have to.”

Three left.

Talia frowned as she reread the details on one of the remaining frigates. “This one is no good. The intel is that it was meant to ship out for a Mars patrol a few days ago. It’s gone.”

Two ships remained on the display.

Alexander noticed some of the aliens had gathered near the team, watching with interest. Gilly’s gills fluttered rapidly as he whispered something to Krrsh in Galactic Common. Shimmer’s scales caught the light as they shifted closer. They weren’t interrupting, but they were clearly invested in the discussion.

The first option was a Santiago Systems frigate, currently docked at a civilian maintenance station on the edge of the Belt. The specs were impressive: 200-meter length with modern systems, and well-armed for its class. The file showed it had been undergoing “routine maintenance” for the past three months.

“That one’s perfect,” Annie said, leaning closer. “Why not pick that one?”

“Because it’s bait,” Alexander said flatly.

Augustus nodded. “Three months of maintenance on a frigate? That’s not routine. That’s someone waiting for us to take it.”

“The timing fits too,” Talia added. “It showed up for ‘maintenance’ about two weeks after Gabriel rescinded the public bounty. Looks like a low-traffic station with minimal security on paper, perfect specs for our needs.” She pulled up additional data. “Too perfect.”

“So it’s a trap,” Annie said, deflating slightly. “Figures.”

Alexander’s attention had already shifted to the last option. He raised an eyebrow at Talia.

She almost smiled. “I knew you’d be interested in that one.”

The tablet showed a luxury vessel, all sleek lines and obvious quality even in the technical schematics. 180 meters, classified as a private yacht but with specifications that suggested something far more capable.

Annie whistled. “That’s nice.”

Augustus angled the tablet slightly toward himself, his expression shifting to appreciation as he read through the specs. “This is exceptional work. Those are military-grade shield generators. And that power plant…” He scrolled with one finger. “It’s got more firepower than most corvettes.”

“It’s also docked at Terra Prime,” Talia said.

The room went quiet.

Terra Prime orbited Earth, and it was the primary hub for civilian space traffic in Sol. Hundreds of ships docked there daily. It was also one of the most heavily guarded stations in human space, with a mixture of UEG security, corporate protection, private interest groups, and enough surveillance to track a dust mote.

Alexander studied the yacht’s profile on the screen. The ownership records were listed as ‘Santiago Executive Holdings.’

“Gabriel’s personal ship,” he said.

“Obviously,” Annie replied. “Which is why you want it even more now.”

Felix’s rough voice carried from his position near the table. “I like this option very much.”

Alexander glanced at him. The golden retriever somehow managed to look satisfied despite his canine features.

“Stealing his personal ship seems… appropriate,” Felix continued. “After what he did to us.”

“Who’d be crazy enough to acquire a starship from Terra Prime?” Alexander asked, tone conversational.

Annie gave him a flat look. “You. You’d be crazy enough. You just want it because it’s Gabriel’s space toy.”

Alexander shrugged. “Maybe. Besides, we’re only borrowing it.”

“Borrowing something permanently without asking is stealing!”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

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Near the doorway, Gilly made an excited sound. Krrsh’s limbs gestured in what Alexander had learned was their species’ equivalent of laughter.

Augustus and Talia ignored the bickering, pulling up additional technical specifications on the tablet.

“We’d need a professional crew,” Augustus said, his tone thoughtful. “I have some experience with military vessels, but this is corvette-class. We couldn’t run it with just the four of us.”

“Twelve,” Talia said, working through calculations. “Minimum skeleton crew for a ship this size would include a Captain, XO, pilot, chief engineer, comms and sensors officer.” She paused, considering. “We’d need a quartermaster too. Someone to handle supplies and logistics for the journey. And a cook. Even if you end up handling meals for us, Auggy, the crew will need proper care for the long term.”

“Medical?” Alexander asked.

“I can handle medical with AI assistance and the appropriate facilities,” Talia said. “The ship will have an automated med bay. For anything serious, we’d need a proper doctor, but for our purposes I should be sufficient.”

Augustus nodded. “That’s seven key positions. We’d also need crew for night watch, backup operators, and general maintenance. She’s right; call it twelve minimum to run the ship properly.” He looked at Alexander. “I know you can probably control the ship with your power, but you’re not a trained pilot or engineer. We need qualified people for the critical positions.”

“Agreed,” Alexander said. “Which means we need to find crew willing to work for wanted supervillains.”

“Or crew that doesn’t know who we are until it’s too late,” Annie suggested.

Talia shook her head. “Too risky. We need people we can trust, or at least people who know what they’re getting into. Betrayal in space would be catastrophic.”

“The Queen might have contacts,” Augustus said. “Or we put out feelers on Astra Omnia. There are always spacers looking for work, especially ones who don’t ask too many questions.”

“We start with the captain,” Alexander said. “Someone experienced and competent. Let them help pick their own crew. They’ll know who they can work with. We retain veto rights, but a good captain will want people they trust. We just need to be able to trust them.”

“Makes sense,” Talia agreed. She swiped to another file. “Which is why I already asked the broker for potential candidates. Got a list of four captains who might be suitable.”

Four profiles appeared on the screen. Four faces, four sets of credentials.

Alexander studied them. “Walk us through them.”

Talia tapped the first profile. “This one we can dismiss immediately. I’m showing you the full list for completeness.” She highlighted a line in the work history. “Indentured Labor Transport Specialist. That’s corporate speak for—”

“Slaver,” Augustus said flatly.

“Yes.”

Talia swiped past it without further comment and pulled up the second.

“Captain Lawrence Webb. Early thirties, ex-military. Fighter pilot who made it onto the XO track before a dishonorable discharge for refusing orders. No details on what orders or why. Currently captaining a security gunship for a small transport outfit.”

Annie leaned forward. “He has combat experience. Fighter pilot means he can handle stress and think fast under pressure.”

Augustus frowned. “But a dishonorable discharge is a serious mark. There’s refusing illegal orders, and then there’s insubordination. We don’t know which this was.”

“The file doesn’t say,” Talia added, scrolling through the sparse details. “Just lists it as ‘refusal to follow orders.’ No context.”

“Fighter pilot to gunship captain,” Augustus continued. “That’s a different skill set than commanding a corvette-class vessel with a full crew.”

Alexander considered it. “He’s currently employed though. Someone trusts him with a ship.”

“A gunship,” Augustus corrected. “Not a corvette.”

Talia moved to the third profile. “Captain Carmen Reyes. Early forties. Fourteen years Space Force, made Captain rank, honorable discharge. Five years commercial pilot work, then three years with Goliath Corporation. Currently unemployed for the past two years. She’s been blacklisted by the major corporations.”

Augustus nodded approvingly. “Solid military credentials. Honorable discharge, command experience, and she successfully transitioned to civilian operations.”

“She worked for Goliath though,” Annie said immediately. “One of the Five.”

“Two years unemployed,” Alexander added. “That’s a long time. The blacklisting concerns me too. We need to know why.”

“The file doesn’t explain it,” Talia said. “Just notes that she’s flagged as ‘terminated for cause’ by Goliath and blacklisted across Sol. No details on what the cause was.”

“Could be incompetence,” Annie said. “Or she pissed off the wrong people. Either way, two years desperate? She might sell us out.”

“Or the blacklisting means she stood up to corporate interests,” Augustus countered. “Not everyone who crosses the Five deserves it.”

Alexander studied the profile. The credentials were solid, but the gaps were concerning.

Talia pulled up the fourth profile. “Captain James ‘Red’ Kavanaugh. Mid to late thirties, thirteen years experience. Started with a trading outfit…” She highlighted several entries. “These timing gaps and routing patterns strongly suggest smuggling operations.”

Annie grinned. “Perfect.”

“He moved to mercenary work,” Talia continued. “Spent the last five years captaining ships for a merc outfit. Recently let go after losing his ship in an engagement with pirates. Notes here say they were outnumbered three-to-one, but he got his crew out alive.” She paused. “The broker added a note at the bottom. Says Kavanaugh’s developed a reputation as a heavy drinker on station since losing his work.”

“If he’s a smuggler, that means he knows how to work around the legal systems,” Alexander said. “He’d have experience with alien stations, too. That could be useful.”

“Grey market experience,” Talia agreed, her tone neutral. “And getting his crew out alive when outnumbered shows good priorities under pressure.”

Annie nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. He didn’t panic, and he didn’t abandon his people. That counts for something.”

“The drinking counts against him,” Augustus said firmly. “The broker specifically flagged it. That means it’s noticeable enough to be a problem.”

“He lost his ship and his livelihood,” Annie argued. “People deal with that differently.”

“But if he’s drinking heavily now,” Augustus continued, “what’s his judgment like? What happens when things get difficult for us?”

Alexander considered it. “The smuggling experience is valuable, but Augustus has a point. He also has no formal military training. Operating a corvette-class vessel with military-grade systems is different from running smuggling routes.”

“Thirteen years of experience counts for something though,” Talia said.

The room fell quiet as they all studied the three profiles.

“We need to interview all of them,” Alexander said finally. “The files don’t tell us enough.”

Augustus nodded. “Agreed. Any of them could work, or none of them might. We won’t know until we talk to them in person.”

“I can arrange the meetings through the broker,” Talia said. “We’ll need to make use of our private rooms on Astra Omnia.”

“How much do we tell them upfront?” Annie asked.

“Enough to gauge their reaction,” Alexander said. “We’re looking for a captain for grey market work and a dangerous employer. See how they respond to that. If we like them, and they’re interested, then we discuss the details.”

“And if they’re uncomfortable with it?” Annie asked.

“Then we thank them for their time and move on.” Alexander looked at the three profiles. “We need someone who knows what they’re getting into. Someone who won’t bolt or betray us when things get complicated.”

“I’ll set it up,” Talia said, already composing messages. “Give me a few hours to coordinate through the broker.”

“Do it.” Alexander stood, stretching. “Let’s hope one of them is what we need.”

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