Salvage Fleet

by Kevin Steverson

  “Not one of your beers, though,” Harmon heard Marteen say as the door slid shut. “Twiggy said it’s like drinking acid.”

  “Harmon, I’ve located several ships for sale,” Jayneen told him through the comm in his chair.

  “Yeah? We could use them,” Harmon answered her. “I’ve talked to several mercenary companies over the last few days, but none of them want to get involved with what they view as a losing proposition. Except of course for the Kashkal, which might mean the difference in this whole thing with their twenty ships.”

  “The odds of defending the system again aren’t good, even with them,” Jayneen said. “Would you care to hear them?”

  “No, thanks,” Harmon answered. “So, what’s the deal with Gregor’s Consortium?”

  Harmon had asked her to find out what she could about the mercenary and his company. Clip was busy trying to finish the program on the scrambler missiles, so he had asked the AI.

  “He’s a mercenary from Earth, as Clip said,” she replied. “His company has one heavy battlecruiser, two destroyers, and two frigates. From what I can determine, he has about seven hundred humans working for him. There are no other races that I could see.”

  “So what’s the deal with him not being welcome in the Sol system anymore?” Harmon asked.

  “It has to do with an ancient signatory document that was eventually signed by all the nations on Earth, along with all the colonies in the Sol system,” Jayneen said. “A document called the Geneva Convention.”

  “I know of it, we studied it in Principles of War 101 at the Academy,” Harmon said. “So, he mistreated prisoners?”

  Once the battle was fought, even pirates had their day in court in most systems throughout the galaxy. Especially in the human systems.

  “There was a corporate war in-system, and he let prisoners die from lack of fluid intake,” Jayneen confirmed. “He blamed it on faulty systems and got away with it, but lost his mercenary license in the Sol system.”

  “The other mercenaries I spoke with seemed like decent beings—all the races, and not just the humans—but they were all honest about our chances and turned the job down.”

  “You are forgetting Cameron,” Jayneen reminded him.

  “You’re right; him signing on as soon as we got in-system wasn’t something I would’ve expected,” Harmon admitted. “Still, that ship, though. It was really fast. When we get back in-system, I’d really like to know it’s true capabilities…and if Cameron and his crew will stick to a battle plan.”

  “I’ve been going over the information available about them, and I’m impressed,” the AI said. “They really are ‘pretty good,’ as he said. From the video footage I’ve observed, his race can withstand far more G-forces than most races. The maneuvers they performed were made so quickly it makes me question how much computer assistance the helm actually has.”

  “So, tell me about these ships that are for sale,” Harmon said, bringing the conversation back to purchasing ships.

  “To begin with, I found several ships for sale by the Ithalqua, but they were too old and worn,” Jayneen began. “I know the ships we just recovered are old, but they’ve all been preserved by deep space itself. The Ithalqua ships have been in constant use for over a thousand years, so I decided to look elsewhere. There aren’t many available, because true warships are so expensive to build that very few races ever sell them, and when they do, they sell them to systems they deal with regularly. They usually get stripped to their armored hulls and rebuilt, instead. Old ships can be found, sold by used military surplus dealers, who corner the market because systems sell them in bulk.”

  “That was a good call,” Harmon said. “Besides, I don’t know that we could get the smell out of those ships. You know most of the communication by Ithalqua consists of the scent glands on their heads. No, thanks.”

  “I did notice the information on the ships was posted in Earth Common,” she said. “I surmised it was because the Ithalqua home world was just one gate day away from the Sol system.”

  “Probably,” Harmon agreed. “They use Earth Common for their written language; I mean, who can read smells?”

  “Given a scent collector, I could. It wouldn’t take long to create a translat…” the AI started.

  “The ships?” Harmon interrupted.

  “Yes, the ships,” the AI said. “After we leave the Auburn system, we could travel to the Zorkarta system. There we’ll find a company called Mike & Mike’s. They specialize in surplus fleet and military equipment. They have several older ships for sale.”

  “Zorkarta?” Harmon asked. “I’ve never heard of it. What’s its story?”

  “It is a little-known system. There’s no system government and not a lot of trade comes out of there,” Jayneen said. “There are two planets with sentient life. Zork and Karta. Each planet is populated by different races. The trading company is run by two humans. They’re both retired from the Sol Fleet. They were highly recommended by several of the mercenary companies I contacted.”

  “Really? Mike & Mike’s, huh? Veterans from Earth’s own fleet. I like it,” Harmon said as he looked at a report on his screen. It looked like all the crew were back on board, and they were ready to depart the Leethog system for the Auburn system to talk to the programmer Clip had mentioned. The Leethog admiral had messaged ahead to the Auburn system’s admiral to inform him that Salvage Title would be making a stop in his system, as a courtesy. Harmon was glad for the assist. They didn’t need to get held up with red tape…or fired upon.

  Harmon noticed that Corporal Bahroot snapped to attention out of the corner of his eye. Harmon looked over toward the entry to the bridge. Staff Sergeant Jontilictick had just walked through and was heading his way. He knew it had to be him before he looked over. He smiled inwardly. After a few combative training sessions when Bahroot had been hired, the young corporal had realized early on that he never wanted to be on the receiving end of the non-commissioned officer’s displeasure.

  “What’s up, Big Jon?” Harmon asked.

  “Sir, are we preparing to head out of system?” the staff sergeant questioned.

  “I was just about to give the order. Did your friend show?” Harmon answered.

  “Yes sir, his ship is in system, and he could be here within the hour if you would like to meet him,” Big Jon said.

  “Frost, what’s another hour? Give him a call,” Harmon told him.

  “I did, sir, that’s why he’ll be here within the hour.” Big Jon grinned, showing every tooth. Suddenly, he whipped his head over to look at the corporal with a serious look on his face. The corporal seemed to snap even straighter, if it was possible. Big Jon winked at Harmon and strolled out.

  “It appears as if Big Jon don’t take no lip,” Jayneen observed. If the AI could smile, she would have. “I have observed his interactions with his subordinates. They appear to fear him, yet love him. It’s most peculiar. Every being on board loves you, but they don’t fear you. I still have much to learn about leadership,” she lamented, “and love, for that matter.”

  “Every leader has to find the style of leadership that works for him or her,” Harmon said. “Even Kyla has her own style.”

  “The chief warrant officer was born to it,” the AI said.

  “You think?” Harmon asked.

  “I know,” Jayneen corrected.

  “Hmm, well, I think I’ll head down toward the flight deck and meet with Big Jon’s friend,” Harmon said. “Check for a shuttle headed this way and then look at the ship it came from. What do you have?”

  “A shuttle is headed toward us,” Jayneen said after a moment. “It’s coming from a Rincah-registered ship. Its parent ship’s size is comparable to Salvage Title, though it’s a very different design. It appears to be heavily armored on one end. The armor is so thick that very few readings emanate from the fore of the ship. I can determine it has two large thrusters aft, with two small thrusters—though much larger than standard maneuvering thruste
rs—both port and starboard. The design would make it highly maneuverable and able to turn quickly. I find it interesting.”

  “There must be a reason for it. I’m looking forward to this meeting. You have the bridge,” Harmon said. As he walked out, Corporal Bahroot was close behind him.

  “I have the bridge,” Jayneen answered back. Even though she was an artificial intelligence, she experienced what amounted to nerves. Controlling the ship when it was manned by a skeleton crew and going from one point to another was one thing, but now, the ship was fully crewed. Harmon had been delegating more and more leadership roles to her. Like every new officer of any race, she was both nervous and anxious about making good leadership decisions.

  * * *

  Harmon stood in the bay of Salvage Title and watched the ramp on the small shuttle slowly lower. He and the staff sergeant had waited until the all clear was signaled in the bay and had come through the chamber to meet the visitor. Harmon watched a figure walk down the ramp.

  The visitor was in uniform; it appeared to be combat fatigues in a sandy brown, grey, and light green color. The being was five and a half feet tall and very muscular, with a set of curving ram horns on its head. The horns looked heavy, but the being’s neck and shoulders looked up to the task of carrying them with no issues.

  Big Jon stepped over to the guest, and the visitor threw a quick jab, followed by an uppercut. Both were blocked by Big Jon. Before Harmon could react, Big Jon kicked the visitor in his chest and stepped back into a ready position. The move knocked the Rincah back several feet. The visitor grinned and stepped forward to clasp forearms with Big Jon.

  Big Jon and the Rincah walked over toward Harmon. Corporal Bahroot stepped in front of Harmon and stood with his feet shoulder width apart, arms at his side, and elbows bent slightly with fists balled. Not on his watch.

  The Rincah stopped, observed the stance, nodded approvingly, turned to Big Jon, and said, “This one has determination…and training.”

  “He came with an impressive fighting ability; I have been fine-tuning it,” Big Jon answered.

  The look on Bahroot’s face revealed that compliments were few and far between from the staff sergeant. “Step aside and close your mouth, Corporal,” the staff sergeant said. “Captain Tomeral is not familiar with the traditional greeting of the Rincah Warrior, so he is not expected to participate.”

  Bahroot stepped aside, dumbfounded.

  “Sir,” Big Jon said to Harmon, “may I present my friend and sensei, Captain Dustin Rogers. This is Captain Harmon Tomeral.”

  Harmon reached out and grasped his fellow captain’s hand. The Rincah had four fingers, a thumb, and a strong grip. “Dustin Rogers? That sounds like a human name.”

  “It is. When a Rincah reaches maturity, we are given the right to name ourselves. I chose the name of a great Judo champion, Dustin Rogers, from your ancestors’ twenty first century,” Dustin said in passible Earth Common, with a heavy brogue. “Young Jontilictick here says that you are looking to hire mercenaries. Is it to be just ship-to-ship action, or will there be face-to-face fighting?”

  “Ship to ship, I hope,” Harmon said. “The last fleet the Squilla sent into our system managed to land forces on the planet Tretra, and I’m not looking forward to that again.”

  “Pity, but fighting is fighting, and that’s what Basher is made for. She’s a fine ship, with a crew of three hundred of me kinsmen,” Captain Rogers said. “If the price is right, mind you. I canna have the best of me clan risking their horns for free, you understand.”

  “I do. What are you bringing to the fight, providing we come to terms?” Harmon asked, folding his arms. Even though the Rincah knew Big Jon, he wouldn’t just give credits out like Zerith had.

  “Aye, and she’s quick to build momentum and turn,” the Rincah captain said. “She has several big lasers, with the ability to cut ships apart once we get within range. She also has ten missile tubes and racks of shield punchers loaded in her. We’ll take down a shield, bump a ship a mite, and board it if need be.”

  “Nice. Big lasers you say?” Harmon asked.

  “Aye, we get close enough, and we’ll open one up like a can of rithal grass,” Captain Rogers assured him.

  “Rithal grass, ok? Whatever that is,” Harmon said and looked over at Big Jon.

  Big Jon shook his head and said, “Not even Master Chief Warrant Officer Farnog would eat that.”

  “Nonsense, fermented grass is good for the digestion, and a little spice clears the nasal cavities,” Big Jon’s sensei said in his defense.

  Harmon laughed and said, “It’s a multi-system war with the Squilla, and we will be outnumbered. If you’re in, give me a number, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  The Rincah did, and Harmon agreed. They shook hands, and the Rincah captain agreed to be in the Tretrayon system in less than two weeks. They were slowly building a fleet. Harmon hoped it would be large enough to withstand the onslaught one more time and finally be rid of the Squilla.

  Clip and Zerith came up to the bridge several hours later. Clip wanted to get a look at another human system as they came through the gate, and Zerith was curious, as well. Auburn was one of several human-colonized systems fairly close to the Leethog system. Near only if you thought of gate time. The actual distance was staggering, because it was several light years away.

  The Auburn system was one of many systems that had been colonized through funding from Earth’s major universities centuries ago. The system did a booming trade in livestock and crop seed. The livestock developers on Auburn maintained several different genetic lines of animals that could flourish in different gravities, atmospheres, and levels of starlight on human-colonized planets throughout the galaxy. Without question, the work was important and had been throughout the history of human colonization. On some planets, Earth livestock flourished; on others, it did not take at all. In the Tretrayon system, the modified crops did well, but livestock for the most part didn’t.

  “Sir, we’re being hailed,” the communications officer said.

  “Thanks. Put it on screen, please,” Harmon told him.

  “Captain Tomeral, welcome to the Auburn system. I’m Captain Dallas Burgess, commander of AU 34. We were contacted by the Leethog and notified you may be dropping by. Be advised that the shipping lanes will be busy. If you’ll inform me of your destination, we’ll send a flight plan for your convenience,” the officer on screen said. His head was clean shaven, he had a trimmed beard, and he was dressed in a dark blue uniform.

  “Thank you,” Harmon said. “I’ll let Commander Kolget explain why we’re here. Perhaps you can provide us with some guidance.”

  At this, the captain raised an eyebrow. He may have been confused by the fact they did not know exactly where in the system they were going. Harmon couldn’t blame him. It was odd.

  “Hey, man,” Clip started. “So…we’re looking for Van Allen Plexico’s research station. It should be orbiting the third moon of Auburn.”

  “Oh, you know Professor Plexico? Sure, his facility orbits Third Moon. He gets a lot of visitors this time of year; it’s the middle of warball season, you know,” the captain said. “I’ll have my tac officer send over a flight plan. It’ll keep you out of the shipping lanes and away from the speed restrictions.”

  “Thank you…uh…sir,” Clip said. He was still trying to get used to the military mind set. Harmon shook his head and smiled.

  “Harmon, I took the liberty of researching the AU 34, since they were scanning us. It’s a heavy battlecruiser,” Jayneen informed them. “It’s over nine hundred meters long, and its weapons and shielding are impressive.” After a moment the AI added confidently, “We could take it, though.”

  “Atta girl!” Harmon said, laughing. “Positive thinking.”

  “What the frost have you been teaching Jayneen?” Clip asked accusingly, trying to hide his smile.

  “The power of positive thinking,” Harmon told him.

  “We don’t sstart fig
hts, we just finissh them,” Zerith added as he peeled a Leethog version of a banana.

  “You know it, Zee,” Clip said as they looked out the clear-steel portal, watching the activity in the only other human system any of them had ever seen.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  Harmon ordered the helm to place Salvage Title in orbit around Third Moon, pacing the research station. The moon was large, with a viable atmosphere. The other two moons were really small…almost like meteors that had been caught up in orbit. Harmon was fascinated by the fact the planet Auburn and one of its three moons had atmospheres that were perfectly suited for human life. Auburn itself was huge, almost eight times the size of Joth. As big as it was, the gravity was almost equal to Earth’s gravity, as Jayneen and Clip tried to explain to Harmon several times.

  “Look, math is not my thing,” Harmon said. “You guys lost me when you started talking about the formula using mass and radius determining the surface gravity of a planet.”

  “Third Moon is about the size of Tretra, maybe a little smaller,” Marteen observed.

  “That I can understand,” Harmon said. “Same size equals same gravity.”

  “Not if the masss iss different,” Zerith observed. “A planet could be mosstly rock with a high heavy metal content or it could be mosstly ssilicon.”

  “You guys are killing me,” Harmon exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “Marteen, you have the ship.”

  “What? Me?” he asked, looking around.

  “Yes, you,” Harmon said. “Clip, Zerith, Big Jon, and I are taking the shuttle over to the research facility. It has three docking arms, but I don’t think they were designed to dock a ship this size. We’ll land in their bay in the shuttle instead.”

  “We’re taking Jayneen over with us,” Clip said. “I’m betting the Professor will help us out once he gets a chance to talk to her.”

  “You’re just using me,” Jayneen observed dryly.

  “It happens,” said Warrant Officer Saratileentrop icily, looking at Staff Sergeant Jontilictick. She looked back down, observing her station.