As Van pointed out during the interview, Harmon had never “lost” a fight during the games, either. In warball there were always several fights during a game that referees let go on for a minute or two before breaking them up and continuing the game. Harmon Tomeral was one of the very few enforcers on a warball team that was also a star player and leading scorer, if not the only one Van could recall. All of this made for an interesting interview.
“Thanks again for stopping by, Harmon. Will you be headed back home from here?” Van asked, wrapping up the interview.
“Well, we have a little business to attend to in the Zorkarta system, and then I’ll be going home,” Harmon answered. “Thanks, Van.”
“Thank you,” Van said. The cameras were turned off.
“That was great,” Harmon said. “That was the first time I’ve ever really been interviewed like that. Well, I really need to get going. I’m sure Clip and Zerith are ready with the ships. Thanks again for loaning them to us.”
“Just remember,” Van reminded him. “I get to study Jayneen and the programming with Clip when it’s all over. Besides, you can come back and sit in as a guest sometime. Maybe you can help me interview other guests every now and then.”
“That would be great,” Harmon said, and he shook Professor Plexico’s hand. Several minutes later he sat down in the shuttle, and the ramp closed. They were ready to get back to Salvage Title and leave the Auburn system.
“Did you tell him?” Clip asked, looking over at Harmon.
“No, I left it alone,” Harmon said smiling.
“I would have ssaid ssomething,” Zerith stated. “You know good and well that we are Dawg University fanss. There iss a posster of them on the wall in our apartment back on Joth, sstill.”
“You know it, Zee,” Clip said, reaching back for a high four from Zerith. “The Georgia system always has the best Division One players.”
“It didn’t hurt that you were hacking the net, and we got to see all their games without subscribing,” Harmon admitted, remembering watching the games when they were younger.
“That’s my team, man,” Clip said.
“I’ve just looked at the statistics,” Jayneen said. “That team is not always the best. They win often, but not always. No team in the sport of warball does that. One doesn’t need to even watch the game. It’s less time consuming to just observe the statistics when it’s finished.”
“Who asked you?” Clip asked, horrified that such a statement had even been uttered.
“Yess, who?” Zerith demanded.
Big Jon tried his best, but could not hold his laughter. He gave up, threw his head back, and hissed loudly.
“Nobody asked you either, Big Jon,” Harmon said. “Whose side are you on here, anyway?”
* * * * *
Chapter Fourteen
In the palace on the planet Squill, King C’Rabi slammed his big claw down on his royal platform. “Now!” he screamed. “You will send a heavy-plus squadron to Zorkarta, and you will destroy that ship!”
“Yes, my King,” said System Commander One D’Varote, his eyestalks lowered.
D’Varote had intruded upon the Squilla king’s dinner to inform him that his intelligence office had notified him that the human, Harmon Tomeral, had just been seen on a human Net show. The ship Salvage Title was headed to Zorkarta that very evening. Gate time from the Auburn system to Zorkarta was right at three days. Gate time from the Squill system was four days.
“My King,” D’Varote said. “The two inhabited planets in that system are two days away from the gate. They cannot escape us. I will send A’Matith and his separate squadron. They are just two hours from our gate and could leave at once.”
“Yes, that is a good choice,” the Squilla king admitted, calming down.
“Squadron Commander One A’Matith has always been an aggressive commander,” the system commander one said. “He will succeed where others have failed. I will give the orders now. I do not believe either planet in the Zorkarta system will send ships to interfere and involve themselves in Squilla business. They have no central system government. We are not allied with them, but they have been ore and fuel customers in the past.”
“Even if they manage to disable several more of my ships, with Salvage Title defeated, our next invasion fleet will destroy the Tretrayon system easily,” King C’Rabi said, nodding his eyestalks slowly. “Go.”
Two hours later, on the Squilla heavy battlecruiser Crushing Depth, Squadron Commander One A’Matith looked up with both eyestalks at the main screen. He could see his squadron, the Hunter Squadron, was in proper formation as they approached the gate. They had better be, he thought.
“Inform the squadron that we will deploy in the pincer pattern upon exit from the gate in four days,” the commander said. “We will succeed in this mission, like every other mission that has ever been before us. We are the Hunters.”
“Yes, Commander,” answered the officer on the comm platform. “It will be done.”
One ship. I am to go after one ship. A simpleton’s task, Commander One A’Matith thought. I don’t care what the reports say.
* * *
On board Salvage Title, Harmon leaned back in his seat and watched the streaks of light and colors go by through the clear-steel portal on the bridge. The view never seemed to get old. It was as if a work of art was constantly changing before your eyes, with each scene more beautiful than the one before it.
“Jayneen,” Harmon asked. “You said earlier today that your first memory was after emerging through a gate. What did you mean?”
“Well, memories are different than files,” Jayneen answered. “I’ve discussed this at length with Clip, and we agree on that. I have files saved from when I was created. Operational files, instructions, and reference material are all there for me to access. But they are files…I have memories of when I came through the gate to the supply system where this ship was located. I remember being commanded into dormant mode, and the argument between the Grithelaon captains before that. The next memory I have is when Clip revived me in the ready room of Hauler.
“Whenever I’m not performing a task in my duties, I’ve been examining my own programming, and I can’t find the reason I’m self-aware. Perhaps I or Clip will discover the code buried within my core program that caused it, eventually.”
“Well, you’re here, and you’re you. Don’t drive yourself crazy trying to figure out why. None of us truly know why we exist,” Harmon assured her. “I’m no historian, like Clip, but I do know that humans have been asking that question of themselves…well, forever.”
“It iss the ssame for the Prithmar,” Zerith said. “I think thiss iss ssomething that all raccess assk in one form or another, and no racce knows the ansswer.”
Zerith was on the bridge, working on the spare console so it could be used to operate the auto-ships they had acquired. He would leave the programming to Clip and Jayneen, but the hardware and circuitry provided by the professor and his technicians had to be installed. Clip was deep in the ship loading his work-around program in the remaining scrambler missiles, so they could be used against the Squilla in the upcoming battle. The one time they had attempted to use them, it had failed.
“Corporal Bahroot,” Harmon asked, looking over at the Yalteen standing out of the way. “Jump in here. What do the Yalteen think about why life exists?”
“Sir, that is a complicated question,” the corporal said, hesitantly at first. “My race does not believe in random happenstance. I believe in the Creator. Something cannot come from nothing, and there is a reason for everything. We…that is...all life may never know what that reason is. If it is never learned in this life, then so be it. We are not meant to know. There is an old saying among my race, ‘Do what you do. Do it well, and the Creator will receive you when your time here is over. Then, all will be known.’”
Harmon was impressed. He had never heard Corporal Bahroot speak of his personal beliefs. He had expected a general answ
er about the Yalteen race as a whole. Harmon realized why the young Yalteen worked so hard at improving his fighting skills and in weapons training. It wasn’t to please the staff sergeant, it was…to do it well.
“I know who my creators were,” Jayneen said. “I know that I was created to navigate the gates. I don’t know why or how I am aware.”
“Do you have free will, Lieutenant Commander?” The corporal asked, looking at the console that held Jayneen. It was the first time he had ever addressed the AI directly.
“I do,” Jayneen answered. “I’m limited in my mobility, but I make my own decisions. This I’m sure of.”
“Then you know who built your housing,” Corporal Bahroot said quietly, stepping toward the console. He spoke to Jayneen alone. “You know who programmed you. But only the Creator can give free will. You…are you, because it is the will of the Creator and for no other reason.”
“Sometimess you jusst have to believe in ssomething that cannot be proven,” agreed Zerith.
“Harmon, could he be right?” Jayneen asked after a moment’s hesitation.
“I honestly can’t tell you what to believe,” Harmon said. “I could tell you what I believe, but you have to decide things like that for yourself.”
“Do what you do. Do it well, and the Creator will receive you when your time here is over,” Corporal Bahroot said to the AI. “Then, all will be known.” He went back to his post, quiet again.
* * * * *
Chapter Fifteen
Salvage Title exited the gate in the Zorkarta system, and Harmon could see that, while it had traffic, it wasn’t the heavy traffic of the Auburn or Leethog systems. The screen showed there were seven planets in the system, surrounding a star that was smaller than Tretrayon’s. From what he could tell, the second and third planets held viable atmospheres and had most of the system traffic moving between them.
“Adam, talk to me,” Harmon said.
“Sir, our destination is orbiting the fifth planet, eighteen hours away at our current rate of speed,” the tactical officer answered.
“Any challenges issued?” Harmon asked the communications officer.
“No sir,” he answered.
“There’s no system government, man,” Clip said, leaning against the side of Harmon’s chair.
“Musst be nicce,” Zerith commented. “Lesss taxxess.” He was eating some type of muffin.
“More profit,” agreed Jayneen.
“What the frost have you been teaching her, Zee?” Clip demanded as he looked sideways at Zerith.
“Businesss,” Zerith answered as crumbs fell down his shirt.
Harmon grinned and nodded at the comms officer. “See if you can reach anyone at Mike & Mike’s. Might as well find out what they have in inventory.”
“Hello…Salvage Title, is it?” a tall man said as he looked down through old-fashioned eyeglasses at his slate and back up at the screen. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re looking to pick up some ships, if you have them and the price is right,” Harmon said.
“Well, alrighty then,” the man said, putting his glasses away. “I’m Mike, and I’ll be glad to show you what we have. To be honest, I thought you were looking to sell that ship, though I don’t recognize the make.”
“No, we’re buyers, not sellers,” Harmon said.
“Good, because we quit buying about six months ago,” Mike said. “My partner and I are ready to leave this system, and maybe set up somewhere else.”
“Business not good?” Harmon asked.
“No, no it’s not that,” Mike said. “It’s the system. There’s talk of a system government, and that means taxes, business oversight, and regulations. We’re just not interested in that. If we wanted all that kind of hassle, we’d have set up in a system that already had a central government.”
“I undersstand completely,” Zerith interjected.
“Who’s that?” Mike asked as he looked closer at his screen. “Oh, hey. For a minute there I thought you were a Loonga. Did a little mercenary work for them once, after I retired. Some planetside stuff. Great fighters, those Loonga, kinda snaky looking, but great fighters.”
“We’ll arrive in less than eighteen hours,” Harmon said.
“Well, come on. Look for the Merwick cube ship. That’s us.” Mike said and signed off.
Eighteen hours later, Salvage Title stopped a short distance from the largest ship any of them had ever seen. The Merwick cube ship was three thousand meters across. There was a huge open bay with several ships parked in it. Harmon was surprised to see four destroyer-class ships parked side by side near the far wall. They were two hundred meters in length each. There were several more ships in the bay—one was a round frigate, and the others were shuttles. Attached to the top of the cube ship as if they were going to transit the gate were several more ships. Harmon couldn’t tell quite what class they were. Several of them appeared to be civilian-type ships.
“Y’all come on over,” Mike said. “There’s a small bay to the side of the main bay. We don’t open the clear-steel doors of the big bay unless we’re moving a big ship in or out.”
“Clear-steel?” Harmon asked. “I though the bay was open to space.”
“Nah, it’s clear-steel,” Mike reassured him. “It’s a lot lighter than hull plates, and easier to move.”
Once the door to the bay closed, it didn’t take long for the atmosphere to equalize. Harmon dropped the ramp and he, Clip, Zerith, Marteen, Big Jon, and the brothers Hank and Stan walked down the shuttle ramp and waited for one of the proprietors.
A door slid open, and Mike walked in. He was dressed in an older pair of camouflage fatigues. It was the typical Earth pattern that was shown on Net action shows all the time. There was a projectile pistol holstered on his hip. He stepped over to Harmon and shook his hand. Mike was over six feet tall and slim. He had short hair, greying at the temples, and carried himself like a soldier.
“Welcome, I’m Mike Melton,” he said. “I can take you into the big bay and show you what we have. There’s a conference room there, and I can pull everything up first. Then I can show you a few of the ships, and we’ll probably see the other Mike running around, supervising repairs to one of them.”
Harmon introduced every being with him, and the group followed Mike through the ship toward the big bay. They didn’t pass any other beings on the way. Harmon wondered where they were. He did notice camera lenses, though. Somebody was watching.
The group stepped through the entry into the huge bay. Harmon had never seen a bay as big. It was much bigger than the bay of the heavy fighter carrier that used to be part of the Tretrayon Defense Fleet.
“Look at the size of this place, Zee,” Clip said.
“Amazzing,” Zerith agreed.
“It’s a dry dock for warships,” noted Marteen. “It has to be hundreds of years old. The Merwick no longer make repair ships like this.”
The Leethog brothers, Hank and Stan, had started walking toward the closest ship, but Big Jon grabbed their shoulders and turned them back toward the group. “Not yet,” the staff sergeant said.
“Alright, on the screen there, you can see what I have for sale at the moment,” Mike said after they had taken a seat in the conference room. The retired soldier was in salesman mode. “In the bay, you saw four Nazrooth destroyers. They have good speed, twelve missile tubes and two main lasers, but to be honest, Nazrooth lasers aren’t very powerful. You have to get in close with them, which brings me to their shields. Great shielding on these babies. I can give you a great package deal if you take all four. I have two hundred missiles for each of them in inventory. Those come separate.”
“Nice,” Harmon said. “What else do you have?”
“I have a Bentwick light battlecruiser parked on top,” Mike said. “She’s a little long in the tooth, but she’s solid. Twelve missile launchers, a couple of lasers, and she comes with six Bentwick IV fighters. I gotta tell you, only four can fly. The other two need compl
ete overhauls.”
“Isn’t Bentwick a human system?” Marteen asked.
“It is; the ship and fighters were designed by humans,” Mike answered.
“Great,” Harmon said. “What else?”
“What else? Are you going to buy it all?” Mike asked, smiling.
“Probably, and the shuttles too,” Harmon said.
“Really?” Mike asked, surprised. “You trying to build an invasion fleet or something?”
“Nah, trying to stop one,” Clip said.
“Usually I don’t ask questions of our clients,” Mike said. “We just buy and sell mostly military equipment, craft, and repair the occasional ship for someone else. But I gotta ask. What’s the deal?”
Harmon proceeded to tell him what was happening in the Tretrayon system. The others interjected occasionally. Mike asked pertinent questions when he wanted clarification. They discussed what had happened and what may happen.
“That really ticks me off. Dang Squilla,” Mike said, shaking his head. “Never liked them. Never had any real dealings with them, but I’ve had buyers that have.”
“If we have it and you want to buy it, I’ll make sure the price is right. Here’s the list of military shuttles I have, and here’s a list of the civilian craft. There’s several ore haulers, an atmosphere miner, and a couple of freighters there.”
“We’ll take them,” Harmon said. “Is that all you have?”
“Well, there is one more ship,” Mike admitted. “A Dalgit missile frigate. That thing only pumps out fifteen missiles per salvo, but they’re twice as fast as any ship I ever saw on the reload. You can get forty-five missiles on the way before another ship its size sends eight.”
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