Salvage Fleet

by Kevin Steverson

  “Brickle, she’s all yours. I have to make this meeting,” Lieutenant Yatarward said.

  “Affirmative sir, I have the ship,” Warrant Officer Ganth replied in a serious voice. At least that was the way the translation came through the earplug Marteen wore. Almost every race in the galaxy had an earplug or audio implant so their personal comm could translate for them. Not every race spoke Earth Common or had the capability to form the sounds.

  Marteen laughed to himself. Brickle was kind of nervous. He’ll have to get used to stuff like that if he’s going to hang out with the likes of Harmon Tomeral, he thought. We’re in for a ride. Marteen had resigned his commission with the Marines in the Tretrayon Defense Fleet and accepted a commission in Tomeral and Associates. He had wanted a clean slate, and staying on Tretra and running the family business would have brought up too many memories.

  * * *

  “How was your walk?” Clip asked as Marteen sat down in the co-pilot’s seat.

  “It was different. That’s the first time I’ve operated a mech in zero gravity,” Marteen said. “With all the training I’ve done, even the drop into combat recently, it was the most nervous I’ve ever been in my mech.”

  “Deep space can be scary, man,” Clip agreed. “You can have all the space-walking you want. Me? I’d rather be in a ship where its safe. But then again, being inside a mech is like being in a ship. You’re not really exposed, or in a flimsy space suit.”

  “It was still nerve-racking,” Marteen admitted.

  “So…uh, sorry about the shower thing, man,” Clip said, looking over at the man next to him a few minutes later. He tried not to smile. It didn’t work.

  “I may have deserved it, I guess. I probably have a lot more coming,” Marteen answered, running his fingers through his hair. Normally, it was a sun-bleached blond, but now it was a bright neon green.

  “Not from me, man. Harmon said I shouldn’t have done it,” Clip admitted. “But you know…I just remember way back when he would tell me what went down at the Academy. He’s like my brother and stuff.”

  “I get it; I was hard to live with then,” Marteen said. “All I can do is work on it.”

  “Well, I just wanted one shot at ya. I tried to think of something harmless, ya know. I didn’t want to hurt you,” Clip said, shrugging his shoulders.

  “To be honest, I kind of like it,” Marteen admitted. “It’s not like it’s against any regulations, since I work for you guys now. Besides, one of the techs in the power plant on Hauler said it was very attractive.”

  “Which one?” Clip asked, glancing over.

  “The dark green Prithmar with the lighter green around her eyes,” Marteen said. He had a strange look on his face. As a human from Tretra, it was the first time he had been hit on by a being of another race. Prithmar were a reptilian race living on the planet Joth, their home world having been destroyed hundreds of years ago. She did have really pretty eyes, though. They were brown with gold flecks.

  “Aleethra? Yeah, she’s related to Zerith. She was a class behind us in secondary school. She played warball with Harmon,” Clip said.

  “Warball? Her? She’s only five feet tall.”

  “Yeah, but she was one of the fastest beings on the field,” Clip said. “And she was as mean as a scrittle when she played.”

  “Really?” Marteen asked, impressed.

  Marteen had had a pet scrittle when he was young. They were native to Joth and sold on Tretra as exotic pets. Nobody on Joth wanted one, because they were a nuisance there. A scrittle was a dark brown, foot-long scaled creature with eight legs, and it had the ability to produce a puffed, spiked hood around its head when startled. Marteen’s pet had grown to about as thick as his wrist. He could hold it, but it would puff up and strike at his friends if they tried. They couldn’t really hurt you, but you couldn’t tell the scrittle that.

  “Really,” Zerith confirmed. “Sshe hass alwayss exccelled in anything sshe doess. Sshe iss my favorite relative,” he added, looking at Marteen from a seat in the front row.

  “Hey, I didn’t ask her out,” Marteen said, raising his hands chest high in defense.

  “It iss not her that I am worried about. If sshe ssetss her mind on you, sshe will get the date.” Zerith laughed. “Are you ready for her? That iss the quesstion. Sshe ussed to eat meat before a game,” he added for emphasis, nodding his head.

  Marteen looked over at Clip. Clip raised his eyebrow, opened that one eye wide while squinting the other, and tilted his head a little. “Mean,” Clip said in a threatening voice.

  “Wait. What’s that mean? I thought all Prithmar were vegetarians,” Marteen said, looking back and forth at them. They just laughed.

  “Low tide…this is low tide,” Marteen said, sinking into his seat. It meant bad news, in slang, to the people on Tretra who lived near the beaches. He looked up. “Okay, Zee, I may have hinted about a date. But I didn’t ask her out.” Clip and Zerith laughed again.

  There was just enough room for the shuttle to land in an empty spot in the bay. Clip shut it down, and as soon as they were notified the environmental system had pressurized the bay again, they disembarked and headed to the conference room. They were still laughing at Marteen as they walked into the compartment.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Three

  “What’s so funny, guys?” Joslynn “JoJo” Whaley, one of the new officers Harmon had hired, asked.

  This just made both of them laugh even harder. They were like two younglings. After a few minutes, they settled down so the meeting could begin.

  In the room were JoJo, Evelyn, Twiggy, and the four original Leethog crew members, Hank, Stan, Vera, and Kyla. Seated also were Big Jon, a Leethog who was the ship’s security non-commissioned officer, retired Gunnery Sergeant Harper, and a Yalteen named Bahroot, as well as Clip, Zerith, and Marteen. “Alright, we need to get this figured out, now that we have a rough idea of how many ships are in-system,” Harmon said. “But before we go over everything, what the frost were you two laughing at?”

  “Aleethra thinkss Marteen iss attractive,” Zerith said with a straight face, until he looked at Clip. They both nearly fell out of their seats laughing again.

  “Frost!” Harmon said. He looked over at Marteen. “She was an incredible receiver on the field, and she could jump up and grab the ball with the best of them. She’s a great power plant technician now, and I was lucky to hire her. The Farnog Corporation canceled her contract as a favor to me. She was the best they had after Zerith left. But…you do know she’s not afraid to eat meat, right?”

  “So these two tell me. What does that mean?” he asked.

  “It means she ain’t afraid of taking in a little vitamin B12,” Twiggy said. He whistled and said, “Woo-a-woo! I bet she bounces around, strong as a chinto when it’s in her system, too. You hear me?”

  “Great,” Marteen said. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Alright. Alright. Back to business,” Harmon said, still smiling.

  “There are two frigates, a light battlecruiser, and a destroyer docked at this port,” Clip said. “Any one of them may have one of the transition computers on it. I think we should send over a boarding party, and if we find one, I’ll take it out and bring it back here to revive Jayneen.”

  “Yeah, we’re going to need her to help us figure out these ships. Can you change all the operations consoles and systems to display Earth Common or Leethog?” Harmon asked.

  “I think so, but it may take me a while. I just have the basics of their programming,” Clip replied. “I was able to get the defensive platforms to stand down. Given time, I could do it, no problem. It may take months…that’s a lot of ships. Jayneen could do it quickly. She knows all the systems, their backups, and everything else.”

  “I know. There are four ships docked here, and we can see six at the other spaceport,” Harmon said.

  “So what’s the plan?” Clip asked.

  “Tomeral and Associates are claiming
all of them,” Harmon said. “Salvage rights. We step first on both docks and all ten ships.” He looked around the room.

  Big Jon looked over at Gunny and Bahroot and nodded at them. They would make sure no one else entered any port or ship before Harmon and his associates, as well as provide the security for the boarding party. Bahroot was new to this, but Gunny was a new “old hand.” He was an old hand at being a part of a security detail, although he was a recent retiree from the Tretrayon Defense Fleet.

  “You mean you’re going to keep all ten of them? What about the system?” Evelyn asked. She was confused. Her parents and younger brother still lived on a farm on Tretra. The Tretrayon Defense Fleet only had a handful of ships left to defend their home system. The Squilla had devastated it, attempting to destroy the system.

  “Yep,” Harmon answered.

  “You know it,” Clip agreed.

  “Of coursse,” Zerith confirmed.

  Evelyn looked around the room. Everyone else was just as confused as she was. Everyone but the four original crew members, that is. All four Leethog just nodded their heads. She started to get angry, and it showed on her face.

  Harmon smiled at her. “Easy now. The ships will belong to Tomeral and Associates, but we will lease them to the Tretrayon Defense Fleet—with a few stipulations,” he said.

  “Fifty-one percent of every ship crew must be from Joth. Period. No exceptions. Tomeral and Associates is based on Joth, after all, so it’s a perfectly reasonable request. If the number is reduced because of combat or an accident, they’ll have to fix it within a reasonable timeframe. There will be race diversity. Period. And, I like this one best, the Academy must be opened to all races in the system, and the order of merit cannot be manipulated,” he finished.

  “Don’t forget, you’re appointing several officers for them to begin with,” Clip added.

  It would take four years to commission beings from Joth via the Academy. Harmon intended to field-commission a handful of officers immediately—experienced beings who had been out of the system before.

  Manning was going to be an issue; they had too much of it. Harmon had figured there would be more ships to bring back to the system, and he had brought fifteen hundred beings into the system to get them back to the Tretrayon system. Five hundred more were technicians from Joth and a few other star systems, hired on in case they needed to do major work on the ships. They wouldn’t need all of them to crew the ten ships.

  “Of course, we’re going to have to charge them. After all, Tomeral and Associates is a business,” Harmon said.

  “Well, I feel like a fool. I should never have doubted you’d continue to find ways to defend the system,” Evelyn said, smiling.

  “Charge them? How much do ten ships cost to lease?” JoJo asked.

  “One credit each per year,” Zerith said. “We may be capitalistss, but we are not greedy. We want to protect our home, but it iss the princciple.”

  “Besides, we will get paid a percentage for the missiles they build in the future, after we get Jayneen to find the blueprints and the Farnog Corporation on Joth starts making them,” Kyla stated. She had clearly been thinking ahead.

  “Why didn’t we think of that?” Clip asked.

  “I don’t know. But it’s a great idea,” Harmon said, looking at Kyla. She smiled, ruby-red lipstick and all. Harmon’s lips quivered but he did not grin. I’ll never get used to lipstick on an opossum, he thought.

  “It would be a new branch in the corporation, but my father would be pleassed to build the plant, I am ssure,” Zerith said. “There iss already a bid in for sshipbuilding faccilitiess to be built near Joth.”

  “Perhaps we can provide blueprints for some of the ships made here, also,” Kyla said. “Or at least some modifications for the ships built there.”

  “First we have to bring Jayneen back,” Clip said, bringing the meeting back around.

  “Right. We’ll go over first and claim salvage rights,” Harmon said, “and get the reactors running and powered up. Then we’ll have a full crew move bodies into the spaceport for funerals. It shouldn’t take nearly as long as it did to clear Salvage Title, so it won’t get…messy. While they’re clearing, we’ll check the bridges for the computer.

  “We’ll be over there and exposed, though I doubt anything will come into this system. Nothing has for centuries, but it’s best to be prepared. Twiggy, JoJo, you two launch in a couple of the Zaxs and cover the port. Hank, you and Stan launch in the Sleek fighters and cover United as it’s unarmed. We’ll have the rest of the flight deck on standby. Evelyn, you have command of the ship. Everyone else, go suit up.”

  He stood and turned back to the two Leethog brothers, Hank and Stan, stopping them before they could leave the room. “Don’t ‘buzz’ United. You’ll give the crew members on the bridge a heart attack,” he admonished. The looks on their faces were priceless as they stood there with their mouths open. He had read their minds. This time, it was Kyla and Vera laughing as they left the room.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Four

  Harmon stood at the outer hatch of the ship’s docking chamber. Salvage Title was docked in a slot on the outer ring of the space station. The station had no power, but the docking was easy to accomplish because the design of the ship matched the station. In the chamber with Harmon was Clip, Kyla, Vera, Big Jon, and the retired Gunny. They were all wearing space suits and had magnetic boots to help them move around.

  Private Bahroot was posted at the inner door to the extended chamber. Harmon didn’t really think anyone would attempt to step on board any of the ships and claim salvage rights, but he wasn’t taking any chances. There were some members of the Fleet that didn’t like the changes being made on Tretra and in the Tretrayon system. Many political families had lost their privileged way of life. Admiral Timerton and his remaining staff had tried to make sure none of them had been sent on this mission, and if anyone tried…well, very few humans could get past a full grown Yalteen. The private was nearly seven feet tall and weighed an easy three hundred pounds. Besides, Big Jon had given him his instructions, and there was no way he was facing the staff sergeant’s wrath.

  Gunny manually opened the hatch, and Harmon pushed off and floated into the port. He engaged his magnetic boots and stood looking around. Harmon had seen this type of scene once before. There were more bodies floating throughout the port than the last one he had entered. All were frozen, and most had a pained grimace on their faces. There were indications of laser scorch marks and self-inflected wounds on many of them. Having established that the spaceport had been claimed as salvage by Harmon, the rest of the boarding party entered.

  * * *

  Private Bahroot heard several people entering the chamber behind him, but he knew no being was authorized to be there. The big Yalteen kept looking toward the chamber hatch door that had been shut, his body shielding what his right hand was doing. He counted to three and then turned with his laser pistol out. Three humans stood several feet apart in the chamber, about six feet away from him. They all had suits on, with their helmets clipped to their waists and weapons in their hands. They were each holding small laser pistols, capable of just a few powerful shots each because of their size. The weapons were easily concealable and very deadly. The way they were standing, he couldn’t shoot them all before they shot him. Then he noticed that one of them had a backpack on.

  He knew that whatever he was going to do, he had to do it now. He couldn’t let the three of them get through to the port on the other side. It was obviously an assassination attempt on Captain Tomeral or all the beings that had boarded the port. He noticed the human on the left side’s hand was shaking slightly, and his eyes kept darting to the other two and back to him. It was just what the staff sergeant had told him to look for when facing multiple opponents—signs of hesitation.

  Bahroot raised his hands slightly with his weapon pointed up. He bent his knees, giving the illusion that he was going to squat and lay down his weapon. He
watched the eyes of the nervous man, and when the man’s eyes cut back over to the other two, Bahroot dove forward toward the one in the middle and fired his laser at the one on the right. He felt a burn across his right shoulder blade as he hit the one in the middle with a tackle that any warball coach would have been proud of—it might even have made the highlight reels across several systems. The nervous one was slow to react, and Bahroot kicked out and up. The strength and speed of his kick shattered the kneecap and tore his ligaments, and he went down screaming and never got off a shot. A hammer blow from a huge fist silenced him.

  Bahroot stood up, activated his comm, and called for more security. He used his left hand to tear the backpack off the dead man. Inside the pack was flexible explosive and a detonator. It was an easily shaped explosive, and it was enough to blow a hole through the deck plating of a ship if set right. Certainly it was enough to blow the containment armor around a fusion plant. The detonator hadn’t been connected to the explosive yet, so he didn’t call for a weapons technician.

  He let the ship’s doctor take care of his shoulder at his post; he wasn’t going anywhere. He even got down on a knee so the five-foot-tall Leethog could reach him. Private Bahroot gritted his teeth and never uttered a sound.

  * * *

  “My God,” Gunny said through the private comm link Clip had arranged as he looked around. He had served for over twenty-five years in the Tretrayon Defense Force Marines and had never seen anything like this. Granted, except for the recent combat, most of it had been fighting against pirates. “It’s no wonder that no race, anywhere, uses biological warfare. The Bith were right to declare that bio warfare and nuclear weapons were system gate cancellation offenses.”