It Ain't Over

by Robert M Kerns

  “I might be able to help with that,” Sev said.

  Mazzi’s head swiveled to him like a turret, and she asked, “And you are, sir?”

  “Sev Vance, general manager of the shipyard,” Sev said before looking to Cole. “Cole, we have two Hawk-class dropships already complete. A former client ordered five and went out of business before paying us for the order.”

  “How long to build a third?” Cole asked.

  Sev sighed. “Eight to fourteen days…if we have all the parts we need.”

  “Do you have comms capability?” Cole asked.

  Sev produced an ear bud that would pair to his implant, holding it up for Cole to see.

  Cole nodded toward the hatch. “Step outside, please, and call your people. I’ll pay the shipyard a scaling premium based on how soon you complete it.”

  Sev stood and moved to the hatch as he inserted the ear bud and activated it.

  Cole looked to Mazzi, saying, “Next?”

  “We need weapons, sir. The crew assigned to the recyclers have already fed the slug-throwers and their ammunition into the hoppers, but the good news is that one of the most respected arms merchants in Human space calls the Gate home.”

  “Bailey’s Munitions?” Cole asked, smiling.

  “Yes, sir,” Mazzi agreed, with Sasha and Emily adding their nods. Mazzi turned to Yeleth. “Do you have an inventory of everything we…uhm, liberated…from those pirates in Iota Ceti?”

  “Yes. Most of the weapons were slug-throwers of one type or another. There is perhaps one crate of laser rifles and half a crate of laser pistols. The grenades are fragmentation powered by a chemical explosive.”

  Mazzi grimaced. “Sir, let’s keep the frag grenades, as those’ll work against unarmored personnel. What’s the status of your heavy armor and the rotary cannons?”

  “The rotary cannons are in working order,” Yeleth said. “We may, however, want to stock up on ammunition.”

  “Srexx?” Cole asked.

  “Yes, Cole?”

  Cole smiled. “What’s the status of my heavy armor? I haven’t seen it since Iota Ceti.”

  “I have…retired…that armor, Cole, as an under-performing design.”

  “Under-performing? Buddy, I survived stopping a rocket with my chest. Please, explain to me how is that under-performing.”

  “Armor operating as intended would have enabled you to return to the ship under your own power and by your own choice,” Srexx replied. “I have updated the design and fabricated a new suit of heavy armor. How would you like it styled?”

  “You fabbed a new suit of armor already? Where did you get the materials? I thought we ran out making armor for people to work the Iota Ceti mission.”

  Silence.

  “I may have…salvaged…material from the wrecked frigate and utilized the recyclers to make the needed material for the new suit.” Cole was always impressed by Srexx’s ability to sound like a child caught being bad when he discussed something he thought Cole would disapprove of.

  Cole grinned. “Oh, okay. We should have filed a salvage claim if you were going to do that.”

  “The amount I recovered is not sufficient to raise any concerns, given the degree of destruction present with the frigate’s wreckage. I calculate it is unlikely any outside observers will ever know it is missing.”

  Cole considered the matter and let it drop. This was the AI, after all, that saw nothing wrong with downloading entire computer cores to decrypt their secure files because he was bored. In the end, he said, “Well, since you have the new heavy armor, let’s go back to the Aurelian Marine motif, since we’re going back to Commonwealth space and all.”

  “Yes, Cole.”

  Cole turned to Yeleth, asking, “What’s the status of our recruitment and raw materials deliveries?”

  “We have vetted one-hundred-fifty personnel, and we have many more in the queue. We have ten thousand kilograms in Cargo One with more arriving over the next several days. Several mining concerns that do not have their own transports have contacted us about selling material if we or someone will come pick it up.”

  “What about the frigate wreck?” Mazzi asked. “Raw materials are raw materials, right?”

  Cole nodded. “I would assume so. Yeleth, are you up to overseeing a salvage effort as well? Vetting and hiring a salvage crew and making sure we take delivery of what we’re supposed to receive?”

  “Of course, Captain…as long as I may requisition Mazzi’s assistance.”

  Cole grinned. “Requisition approved.” Turning to Sasha, Cole continued, “Sasha, I want every effort expended to fabricate the missing turrets and shield emitters in time to install them before we leave. I dislike going back into Commonwealth space under-strength.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sasha replied, adding a nod.

  Cole scanned the faces around the table. “Anything else?” No one spoke up. “Okay then. Let’s get to it. We have about three times as much stuff to do as the time available will permit.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Bailey’s Munitions

  Tristan’s Gate

  20 August 2999

  Bailey’s Munitions organized their wares first by role and then by type. For example, all sidearms were grouped together first and sub-grouped by type, such as slug-throwers, flechettes, laser pistols, or the very rare plasma pistols. Cole stood in the heavy weapons aisle, looking at something he’d only seen for the first time when he was in the store earlier: a plasma caster. Looking much like the two rotary cannons back on the ship, the plasma caster was designed to be carried by someone in heavy armor and often only seen in heavy weapons platoons. Their typical role was anti-fortification, anti-vehicle, or anti-armor, and they were a stripped-down, less powerful version of the starship-grade plasma cannon. Plasma casters were never used aboard stations or ships where breaching pressure was a concern; the projectile was for all intents and purposes a sphere of solar fire, measuring into the thousands of Kelvin. That was the other reason only soldiers in heavy armor used them; the armor protected the soldier from the extreme flash heating that occurred in the vicinity when the charge left the plasma caster.

  “Thank you for visiting Bailey’s Munitions, sir. My name is Myrna; can I help you find anything?”

  Cole turned at the unexpected voice at his shoulder and saw a young lady who looked barely old enough to drink. Her coppery hair hung over her right shoulder, and Cole thought he could see a faint smattering of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She wore a one-piece jumpsuit that most people called ship-suits, because they were rarely seen anywhere but on starships and worn by working crew.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Myrna. I’m Cole,” Cole said and pointed at the plasma caster. “Do you have more of these and ammunition?”

  “Yes, sir,” the young lady said. “Anything you see is just a display model; we make it a point to keep our stock levels high, as many of our…shall we say, routine…customers buy in bulk.”

  Cole grinned. “Excellent. Say…do you work on commission?”

  “Yes, sir,” Myrna said.

  Cole’s grin exploded. “Oh…you will love me, then. Have a pad handy? We need to build a sales order.”

  Myrna smiled and withdrew a tablet from a pocket on the thigh of her ship-suit. “And what ship are you with, Mr. Cole?”

  “Oh…that’s not my legal name, and the ship is Haven, docked in Slip 12. The name we should put on the order is Bartholomew Coleson.”

  “Coleson? Like Coleson Interstellar Engineering?” Myrna asked, making conversation while she tapped away on the tablet.

  “Just like that.”

  “Neat! Ever look into if you’re any relation?”

  Cole fought to keep his expression impassive. “I never considered investigating that, no.”

  “I read everything I can find about CIE,” Myrna said. “Working for them is my dream. I’m enrolled in university here in Tristan’s Gate, but once I graduate, I plan to see if they
’re hiring.”

  “Oh, really? What’s your major?”

  “I’m a double major: jump gate dynamics and engineering. I would love to be on the team developing the next iteration of jump gate technology.” Myrna looked up from the tablet. “Okay, sir, the sales order is created in the system. Let’s put stuff on it.”

  Cole couldn’t keep from smiling. He liked Myrna’s personality.

  “I want five plasma casters,” Cole said, and Myrna tapped on the tablet again, “and enough ammunition for fifty thousand shots. Now, once you have that, let’s go next door to the long arms aisle.”

  The next aisle over, Cole pointed out more items. “I want one thousand laser rifles and fifty thousand charge packs for them. I also want one hundred of the gigawatt sniper rifles and five thousand of their charge packs. I’ll also need an appropriate number of field chargers and ship-board chargers for the charge packs as well…oh, and maintenance kits. You should always keep up on your maintenance.”

  “Field maintenance or armorer maintenance?” Myrna asked.

  “One field maintenance kit per rifle and…let’s say…five armorer maintenance kits.”

  After more tapping, Myrna said, “Okay, got it. What’s next?”

  “Laser carbines…I want five hundred of those and fifteen thousand charge packs for them. Will the field maintenance kits and armor maintenance kits work for both the laser rifles and the laser carbines?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. Plus, each armorer maintenance kit is all an armorer’s shop needs for a single workstation to maintain and repair all types of weapons, everything from slug-throwers to plasma weapons.”

  “You know what? Throw on another five hundred field maintenance kits for the laser carbines. I’m not going to be so OCD about it I insist on registering a specific maintenance kit with a specific rifle, but stuff happens. I think 1:1 is a good ratio.”

  “Of course, sir,” Myrna said to the accompaniment of tapping on her tablet.

  After Cole had shown Myrna everything he wanted to purchase, Cole turned to her and said, “Okay…that’s it for this order. I have a request, though. Please, don’t total it up yet, and signal your manager I’d like to speak with him or her.”

  Myrna’s eyes shot up. “Oh, sir, I apologize if I have done or said anything to offend.”

  “You haven’t, Myrna; trust me. The important part is that you do not total up this order yet. Okay?”

  Cole could see the young woman’s uncertainty filling her entire being, but she jerked a nod and looked down at her tablet to summon her manager.

  A few moments later, a middle-aged man approached and extended his hand as he said, “Hello, sir; I’m Carter Bailey, and I understand you asked for a manager.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bailey. My name is Bartholomew Coleson, but I prefer Cole. I wanted to ask what your commission rate is for your sales staff.”

  Carter glanced at Myrna for a moment before bringing his eyes back to Cole. “Well, the industry standard is thirty percent, but Ms. Mikkels is a recent hire and still on her probationary period. I use a rate of fifteen percent for all probationary salespeople.”

  “Ah, I see. I asked because Myrna has been excellent in helping me today. She’s been personable, courteous, and knowledgeable. Overall, she has represented your enterprise very well, and I was wondering if it would be possible for this one order for her to receive the full commission.”

  “Well,” Carter said, looking at the decking and rubbing his chin, “it’s against company policy. Granted, I wrote that policy, but…” Carter’s voice trailed off as he lifted his eyes to meet Cole’s. “Forgive me, sir, but did you say your name is Coleson?”

  Cole smiled and nodded. “Yes, Bartholomew Coleson.”

  “Well…I don’t see why it would be a harm. Are you willing to write up a statement highlighting everything you just said? It could serve as an example for my other trainees.”

  Cole held out his hand, asking, “And do I have your word on that, Mr. Bailey?”

  Carter hesitated for the briefest moment before he grasped Cole’s hand and gave him a firm, respectable handshake. “Aye, sir…you have my word on it.”

  Cole shifted his attention Myrna. “Run that total, please.”

  Myrna gulped and jerked another nod, tapping away. Just a moment later, her eyes went almost as wide as saucers. “Thir…thirty-five million, seven-hundred sixty-eight thousand, two-hundred ninety-three credits and seventy-six centicreds.”

  Cole grinned, and Carter blanched.

  “I hope you realize, sir,” Carter said, “that I will only make good on our deal if the bank clears the transaction.”

  “Let’s complete the order right now, then,” Cole said. “I need to be getting back to the ship to check on other matters, anyway.”

  At Carter’s nod, Myrna tapped through the controls necessary to reach the payment mechanism and turned the tablet to Cole. Cole selected Credit Suisse from the list of banks, and when it prompted for a DNA scan, Cole pressed his hand to the tablet’s screen. Once the DNA was confirmed, an account selection window appeared, and Cole chose Haven’s ship account to be the source of the funds. Upon confirming that, the tablet communicated with the bank to transfer the funds, and within moments, the entire screen displayed a green rectangle with ‘Transaction Complete’ in bold, white letters. Cole turned the tablet so Carter and Myrna could see the result. Carter smiled, and Myrna looked like she might faint.

  Cole handed the tablet back to Myrna and directed his attention to Carter, saying, “When do you think I’ll be able to take delivery of that order?”

  “The precise moment is difficult to pin-point,” Carter said, “but the order has already been transmitted to my warehouse. All of my inventory is already packaged in crates, so it’ll be a simple matter of moving your order onto grav-pallets. We also do online sales, so depending on the workload, I would imagine your order will be delivered no later than two days from now. With the size of an order necessary for that kind of price tag, we’ll probably have to deliver by cargo shuttle. Will that be acceptable?”

  Cole nodded. “Of course. Like I told Myrna, we’re docked at Slip 12.” Cole turned to Myrna. “Do you get breaks?”

  Before Myrna could answer, Carter said, “She just officiated a thirty-five-million-credit order, she can have the next whole hour off, if she’d like.”

  Cole grinned. “Myrna, do you mind stepping outside the shop for a minute or two? I’d like to talk about your major.”

  Myrna looked to Carter, her entire demeanor uncertain.

  Carter nodded. “It’s okay, and as long as you’re right outside the shop, you’ll still be covered by the sensor feeds.” Looking to Cole, he added. “No offense, sir, but people buying weapons aren’t always the nicest folks.”

  “No offense taken. I’m glad to see you take care of your people. Myrna, don’t feel you’re obligated to accept, but I would like to speak with you for five minutes or less if you don’t mind.”

  Myrna stood silent, her demeanor still uncertain. After a few moments, however, she nodded.

  “Thank you for spending your credits with us, Mr. Coleson,” Carter said. “I hope you’ll think of us in the future.”

  “I promise you that, Mr. Bailey.”

  With that, Cole led Myrna outside the shop and stepped just to the edge of the displays, where he leaned against the station’s bulkhead.

  “So, I liked your enthusiasm,” Cole said, “and I have a question. I realize it’s not CIE, but have you ever considered working in the Engineering division aboard a starship? The starship in question is powered by a generator with a singularity at its core and utilizes propellant-less propulsion. I’m still working up my crew, and I think you’d fit in with my chief engineer.”

  “A singularity-based power core and propellent-less propulsion?” Myrna said, her expression skeptical. “None of that stuff exists yet. Just because you made me a millionaire just now doesn’t give you the right to make fun
of me.”

  “Myrna, I’m not making fun of you,” Cole said as he pushed himself off the bulkhead to stand upright. He withdrew an actual, old-fashioned calling card from his pocket and handed it to Myrna face-down. “I will be doing runs around the system, visiting various mining enterprises, over the next couple days. Think it over, and if you’re curious and can get a couple days off on short notice for a joyride around the system, give me call. That card has my comms code. Best wishes for the rest of the day, and I hope to hear from you about that joyride and tour of the ship. Thanks for helping me with the order.”

  Cole turned and headed for the lift that would take him to the docking level and Docking Slip 12.

  Myrna stood in silence as she watched Cole walk down the concourse. She couldn’t wrap her mind around singularity-based powerplants and propellant-less propulsion being anything other than theoretical at best or mad ravings at worst. Cole was a good twenty to twenty-five meters away when she worked up the courage to turn over the calling card.

  Bartholomew “Cole” Coleson

  Omega-5543297

  Myrna felt her eyes widen and her mouth curl in a grin as she stared at the card in her hands, and she couldn’t help it. She squealed like a teenage fan-girl at a concert. Only the Colesons of Coleson Interstellar Engineering could have Omega-class comms codes.

  Down the concourse, Cole heard a high-pitched squeal of excitement behind him as he reached the lift. He stepped into the lift car smiling.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Tristan’s Gate

  21 August 2999

  Cole sat at his desk in the captain’s office, looking over the status of the various irons he had in the fire. Mazzi had been the first to ask about placing a salvage claim on the wreck of the Aurelian frigate; she’d even rented a shuttle with her own credits and run a salvage buoy out to the wreck…once Yeleth had purchased the buoy. Little did Mazzi realize, Cole had already asked Yeleth to reimburse her for the shuttle rental. The advertisement Sasha had placed on SystemNet attracted a lot of attention, and Cole had bulk cargo haulers heading in from the outer system to deliver all manner of asteroid corpses…everything from raw ore to rock to regolith, just like Cole wanted. He also had a flight plan for cruising the belts to visit those miners who responded to the advertisement but didn’t have a way to transport their goods to the Gate. The delivery crew from Bailey’s Munitions had called to schedule Cole’s delivery from them, and they’d be arriving later that day.