Vignette - Earth Gate at Arcadia

This Vignette sat about midway through the book just after when John and William are working on cleaning up some inventory. The intention here was to give some perspective on what the typical Hades Fleet existence is like and what happens when, by chance the living and the dead interact.

Prospero’s job was stultifying boring. It was the same stultifying boring job he had had when he was alive. He liked it now for most of the same reasons he had liked it then. It gave him lots of time for his own pursuits and hobbies. It also gave him access to unfiltered media from the living world, something he used for personal profit and edification.

“Captain Prospero” sounded pretty grand, but really, he was a glorified babysitter. The Mors was not much to look at and even less to think about. Massive drives (sub-light & FTL) dwarfed the modest crew cabin perched high on the front above the cattle pusher. Free of the stack and preparing to hook up their next load the Mors looked like a pair of testicles with a very flaccid ding-a-ling. 

“Alright, Nele,” Prospero said with no particular interest, “Let’s get lined up to the stack and get out of here.”

“Here” was just outside of the Earth Gate at Arcadia. Prospero and his crew had handed off the stack from the bustling factories of dead world Tlalocan to the human operators of the Serendipity. They were now preparing to hook up to the stack left by the Serendipity and head on to Folkvanger another dead world with heavy manufacturing. From there they would hit the human colony at Babylon and off to Tirnanog (dead world) then on to Xanadu and back to Tlalocan. 

This was their regular circuit hauling finished goods from the dead worlds to the living and schlepping mostly empty containers back to the dead worlds. The human crews picked up the containers and used the gates to distribute goods to the living throughout Earth controlled space. Prospero had once been captain of one of those living crews and had seen the process for their side. The view looked quite different from the other side of death, but the job was very similar with the addition of a few days of FTL travel between the dead worlds and the living.

Prospero also used the time in human space, so close to the gates and their wide open communication networks to download contraband media. His partner on Tlalocan had developed an elegant little program that would scoop up the news and programs filtered out by AfterLife corporate media. They could also take special request from workers on the dead worlds looking for information about loved ones still in the world of the living. Prospero cleared a tidy sum of credits meeting the dead’s need for information, like pictures of a grandchild’s graduation or death notices of childhood friends. So while his crew handed off and loaded up stacks Prospero’s little bug was worming its way through the human networks mining gold. For a clandestine enterprise it was both profitable and rewarding. The soft side of Prospero liked getting people info from home. He also like the credits he used to pour into his hobbies.

The mining program also allowed Prospero to check on boards where the other room box hobbyists posted their creations. Prospero was glancing through the latest posts to see what responses he had gotten to the images he had posted of his interpretation of the Library of the Infinite from the Star Haven Chronicle novels. He was particularly proud of this model. He had done quite a bit of research on the periods and places the writer cited as her inspiration. The model sat in the Mors common room right now. Nearly 100x100x40cm tall it was the most ambitious miniature he had attempted. He was pleased with the feedback and composing a reply to a question about the materials he used when Nele responded.

“Captain, Cassandra is not on board.”

“What? Where is she?”

“She is in the umbilical frame, sir.”

“Why the hell did she go into the umbilical?” It was Prospero’s responsibility to check the positions of all crew before uncoupling from the stack.

“She went to verify the conditions of the biologicals before handoff, sir.”

“Dammit,” Prospero swore. The container she had been looking for was not in the stack. Tlalocan dock had told him personally that the order had not been ready in time. I had not realized that they had not edited the manifest. Cassandra would have looked for flags and gone to check the sensitive cargo. The living were particularly prone to blaming the dead when cargo arrived damaged. Prospero knew, because he had done it himself. When the container was not where Cassandra expected she would have gone looking. She was a smart and efficient drone, but it was easy to put drones in an indecision loop if the paperwork was fucked up. “Why didn’t I get a supervisor notice?” he bit out in a low tone.

“Sir?”

“Signal the Serendipity and let them know we need to hook back up and retrieve a crew member.” Cassandra would be in the network of umbilical corridors that ran between the massed container stacks. It was safe enough, but Cass did not need to take a trip to Earth. If the living crew found her they would have no idea what to do with her. 

Prospero could see the Serendipity moving in position to connect up. Just like the Mors, she looked tiny compared to the giant rectangular solid composed of over 20,000 freight containers. He could see on his console that Nele had typed up the message and sent it to the other ship. He waited a few minutes growing anxious. Serendipity was nearly in clamping position.

“Has Serendipity confirmed message receipt?”

“No, sir.”

“Dammit,” calling up the coms on his console he opened a line to the other ship. Adopting the affectless tone of a drone Prospero spoke, “Serendipity this is Mors. Please be advised that a member of our crew is in the umbilical network on the stack you are docking with. Please disengage so we may recover her.” He’d slipped up saying, “her.” AfterLife was very clear about atype interactions with humans. They did not want contact at all, but if you did for some reason talk with the living, you had better convince them you were a nice compliant drone. Prospero knew the company looked the other way on little operations like his that brought a piece of the world of the living into the world of the dead. They would not be so forgiving if the world of the dead impinged on the living. 

“Jeff, get off the bloody com. This is the last time I’m telling you. There’s a time for jokes and it’s not when it impacts my timetable.”

“Serendipity, this IS Mors. We need to recover our crew member. Please disengage.”

There was no response. Do those morons think the dead can’t speak? Do they think this whole op is run by a VI? Prospero didn’t think much about what it took to do his job, but it required a bit more discernment than a program could muster.

“Motherfucker,” he spit at the air. Dropping the pretense he nearly shouted into the com “Serendipity, this is Mors actual. Not fucking Jeff. Back off and let me get my crew member. Confirmed by signal.” He cut the line. “Nele, flash the spots at Serendipity.” 

The drone flicked on the massive spotlights used for exterior stack inspection and shut them off again quickly. Lights had not been necessary for this exchange as the Earth gate was on the sun side of Arcadia. 

“Alright Mors, I believe you.” The voice sounded uncertain and confused. “We are already behind schedule.” Prospero was well aware. The Mors had spent a half day waiting for Serendipity. Traffic was pissed at the massive freighter just sitting in Gate space. “Can’t we just send it back on the next stack, we really need to get going.”

What kind of captain was this schmuck? He expected Cassandra to just, what, sit in the umbilical for days while they transited to earth and where ever else and then back? Who knew if that harness would even be coming back to a dead crew any time soon?

“No, you cannot. Disengage, now.” He layered the last bit with heavy threat. 

“We’re disengaging.” The voice was disgruntled.

Now Prospero needed to cover his ass. He took a risk that the living captains were still pulling the same shenanigans he had. “Captain, I think we can both agree that no one needs to hear about my wayward crew member, this conversation, or the parcels for Uncle Ryan, yes?”

There was a pause. If the terminology had changed, or worse if this guy was a straight arrow Prospero was deeply fucked.

“What conversation?” said the other captain.

“It’s been very nice not working with you, Captain,” said Prospero in a jovial tone. “Nele, get us hooked back up as soon as Serendipity is clear.” He got up and headed for the umbilical lock. He would go retrieve Cass and the administrators would be none the wiser. Maybe in a few months or years the other captain would tell a tall tale about a hostile dead man he once met, but no one would credit it.