Rust Bucket rbu-1

by Atk. Butterfly

  “You the guy with the package to ship?” asked a man without looking up at me.

  I replied, “No, sir. I came here to learn about your company and possibly put in an application for a job.”

  He looked up at me, noticing the shoulder pack and my haircut almost immediately. “Let me see your transcripts, son.”

  I reached into my pocket, pulled out the paper copy of them, and handed them over along with the recommendation from the Sarge. I didn’t mean to hand that over yet, but forgot to pull it out, along with my list.

  He looked through the sheets of paper and handed me back the list without asking about it. He looked at the recommendation and then looked back at me. “Okay, Dave Oden, come on around the counter and take a seat there,” he said pointing at a bench.

  I did as he instructed and then waited almost an hour before he came back to get me.

  He said, “This way. We’ll interview you now. Seems like we might have a position for you, if you’re interested.”

  I almost started to explain that I really wanted some information about the company first. However, I decided that I should find out what the position was before I bothered to waste anymore of their time or mine since I did need a job. He showed me to an office with the Pennyweight logo displayed outside it. I noticed the date of establishment and saw that it was an old company. It wasn’t likely named for the owner unless she was over a couple of hundred years in age, which was highly unlikely, despite an average life span of a hundred and fifty for people to look forward to. After all, their logo showed a Clipper ship that was commonplace for the time they were established. It only made me wonder more about why they weren’t listed in the directory. I walked into the room, expecting to see an old, if not ancient, woman. Instead, there was a rather young woman, probably not more than my own age of twenty-five. Before I had a chance to speak, she started talking.

  “We’ve got an opening on our gun ship. You qualify. You want the job?” she asked.

  “Not that I’m particular, but what is the opening?” I asked.

  She said, “We’re not like the Navy. Our gunners also perform other duties. You might be taking care of recycling, farming, navigation, piloting, or anything else that needs to be done.”

  Something inside me said take it, so I said, “Yes ma’am. I’ll take it.” I wondered why I didn’t bother asking about the company’s background or how come they weren’t listed in the directory. All I knew was this was a civilian gun ship that regularly escorted company ships into places where there was no law and usually no navy to protect them. If anything, the Sarge was right about seeing more action than most of the navy personnel would see. I thought that I would actually wind up on a freighter. In a way, I was right as well. If the cargo was small and valuable enough, then the gun ship would double as a freighter and go out alone.

  “Jim, get him a badge and a belt with a stinger.” Then she turned to me and said, “You’ll have a locker inside this building to stow away your gear. Take only what you absolutely have to have. At least, you’re prepared for what the job entails. Sarge prepared you properly. Welcome aboard. I’m Penelope. Don’t ever call me Penny unless something’s wrong. I’m assigning you to the Thurman. It don’t look like much, but it don’t need to. You have any trouble finding us?”

  I answered, “No ma’am. Just walked out the Academy entrance, turned left and kept walking until I got here. Only stopped to pick up a few items.”

  “You walked?” she exclaimed.

  I answered, “Yes ma’am.”

  She said, “You’re either foolish or over-confident. I don’t like either of those. We worry a lot. Business is cutthroat and there’s no room for either. I’m surprised that you didn’t get mugged in the off-limits area. It’s off-limits to our people as well, unless we have a delivery inside there.”

  “Yes ma’am. I understand.” I decided not to tell her that I had injured two men making my way through the off-limits area. I didn’t want to be labeled as a bragger. It was bad enough what she thought of me so far.

  Jim came into the office and handed me a badge and gunbelt with a stinger already holstered in it. The stinger was a typical commercially-sold, small, handheld, charged-particle weapon which could recharge itself. I went ahead and put them on, using Jim as my model on how to wear them properly. Then I went with him out of the office and picked up my gear. He showed me to the locker room where I left most of the gear from my duffel bag, taking only a change of clothes with me. He pointed out what I thought was a dark copper-colored ship that was my assignment.

  I walked on by myself over to the ship. The closer I got to it, the more I could tell that it wasn’t copper colored. It was rust I was seeing!

  I couldn’t believe that I’d signed onto a company with a ship like that. I stared for a moment at my second major disappointment for that day. It was a very old patrol ship bought from the Navy as surplus. I doubted that it could hold its own in an even fight with another ship almost as old as it. I was wrong about that. From the looks of things, once I got inside it, it looked like it couldn’t beat a ship older than it. I was almost sure that I was going to be on runs where there wasn’t any real danger to be faced. After all, nobody in their right mind would send that rust bucket out to face some of the current state of the art ships out there in the space lanes. They would dance circles around it. Then they’d tear it apart with their pea shooters just for kicks.

  I checked in with the officer on watch and got my assignment before I went to eat. Once inside, I was shown my gun station first and then my assignment. It was about what I figured it would be for the most junior man aboard. I was in charge of the recycling. That was a pleasant description for what was otherwise called taking care of the garbage. Lastly, I was shown where to bunk down. Now I knew why the Sarge listed a web hammock. I would need it for more than just camping.

  Anyway, I didn’t have to leave the ship to get a meal. Once I was hired, I was entitled to eat in the onboard dining facility. I expected the food to be as bad as the shape of the ship. Incredibly, the food was great. It was actually better than what the Academy gave us as cadets. I also had duties to perform starting right after supper and began recycling the garbage. There were two ways of handling it. One for planet surface use and one for in space. I knew both because of my Academy training.

  Chapter 2

  We lifted off three days later. Regardless of what I thought of the Thurman, or ‘Rust Bucket’ as it was called by everyone, its engines had kick. We zipped up into orbit, with more vitality than I thought the Rust Bucket had in her, and checked ourselves out. Considering the gravity of the planet we were on, I realized that the interplanetary engines must be a heck of a lot better than I realized. They were. In fact, they were even better than I suspected from our lift off.

  I wasn’t worried about the FTL engines. FTL, of course, meant faster than light. That was a necessity for flight between star systems. However, the FTL engines couldn’t be used safely for lift-off or interplanetary flight where there were too many objects to run into, not to mention the heavy traffic on the trade routes. During the time we would be between star systems, we and the freighters would be safe since no one could fight yet at those speeds. No one could even find anyone else moving at those speeds. If someone did happen to catch a glimpse, it was just that, only a glimpse. Whoever you saw would be too far away before you could react, even with computer assistance. It didn’t do any good to shoot at anyone then since their ship’s speed was much greater than anything fired at them.

  It was inside the star systems where the interplanetary engines were important. They were absolutely vital if we were to be able to maneuver and defend the freighters we were escorting. At interplanetary speeds, it was very possible to see, aim, and fire at each other.

  One of the first things we did during our orbital checkouts was to test fire the weapons. For that, I had to report to my gunnery station. Before we even fired the first shot, we practiced reaching our
gun stations over and over again from the most inaccessible portions of the ship that could be arranged by the First Officer. He gave us places to go and waited until we were there. Then he sounded battle stations and expected us to be in our stations within seconds. I think I must have practiced getting to my gun station from at least five different places about the ship. Each of those I must have done about four or five times apiece.

  Then we finally went to target practice. Just to make that harder, we had to go through the battle stations drill again for each shot. We were expected to not only race to our stations, but to line up the right target and get in a shot. That was somewhat different from the Navy. There, battle stations meant getting to one’s position. No one fired until the order was given. On our ship, battle stations wasn’t ordered unless we intended to fight. We weren’t in the position of being in a fleet where we could fire from strength. We were firing to get in the first shot and make it count, because every return hit on us made us that much weaker. Our only chance of survival rested in getting in the first and last shots of any battle. If we were to simply report to our gun stations, then the order was simply “man your battle stations.”

  Anyway, I wasn’t aware of the firepower of some of the weapons on board the Thurman. In space, the impact that some weapons have isn’t felt in the ship when they’re fired. The targets, put out by another ship for us, didn’t give evidence of what was used on them either. What I saw through my monitor and view port didn’t give me any knowledge of what else the Thurman carried. Had I been watching from outside or from some other ship, I would have been impressed with what the ship carried, which wasn’t immediately visible until various plates slid out of the way. The rust was more of a disguise than an indicator of the ship’s condition.

  Shortly after our drills and target practice, we departed orbit and met up with the company ships that we were escorting. Then and only then did we learn where our destination would be and what we were guarding, if it was hazardous enough that we needed to know. We were going to planet Adriena with a cargo of toxic chemicals. That meant that we would give the cargo ships a wide berth. We would avoid scorching them with our engines if we had to maneuver in order to protect them.

  Chemicals were a favorite target of pirates and unscrupulous shipping companies who didn’t mind stealing when they couldn’t get cargoes of their own to haul for a fee. Not only that, but in such cases, they usually stole the ship as well, leaving the crew to drift about space in their suits or a life capsule. Most of them weren’t foolish enough to kill the crews and make them that much more desperate to fight against the seizures. For that reason, the companies had to have gun ships to escort their important cargoes. Fortunately, the pirates that existed were few and far between. However, the companies that would steal travelled the same shipping lanes. Just our gun ship’s presence would keep the other companies honest, though. Pirates, if encountered, would actually have to be fought.

  * * *

  We were out four days on a six-day run escorting the freighters when we had our first action. I was in the laundry cleaning my second set of clothes, standard mesh undies and overslicks. The mesh underwear mostly kept the overslicks from sticking to our skin so that it could breathe and perspire properly. The overslicks insulated us against sudden changes in temperature and prevented us from snagging equipment and switches.

  The drills paid off as “battle stations” was announced. We scurried to our assigned gun stations and fired at the oncoming pirate. We scored a few hits and drove him off before he could do anything to us or our convoy of ships. It wasn’t as easy as during the drills, even though the drills were practiced with the ship performing evasive maneuvers, because the target was performing them as well. In practice, the targets were stationary. Regardless, from that one encounter, I could tell that the Thurman was more than a mere rust bucket. The ship was very much alive and able to lash out with enough punch to deal with the pirates. My initial impressions dissolved to be replaced with a pride in the ship I was assigned to.

  We stayed on Adriena for a week to pick up cargo so that the freighters wouldn’t be returning home empty and earning no credits. The return trip was much less eventful since the freighters carried back less valuable cargo.

  When I got back to planet Beulah, I discovered a bonus in my paycheck because the combat videos disclosed that my gun station made two hits on the pirate. I was already appreciative of what Sarge had done for me. He’d gotten me into space in a job where I mattered. Oh, I know, I was still responsible for recycling, but someone’s got to do it or we’d all be living in filth and disease while out in space. Besides, having that position entitled me to extra shower time.

  Probably showering was the only thing I had to get used to in the Thurman. The shower was a sealed and scheduled room. That meant that whoever was assigned to take a shower had to take it then with whoever else was assigned. Unlike the Navy, we had a whole lot of women on board and not just a few. Fully over a third of the crew was female. Being entitled to a double shower allowance each day because of my job, it was almost inevitable that I would have to share one of my scheduled showers with a woman.

  If I hadn’t acquired such an aroma that I didn’t need one of my showers, I could have possibly skipped that one since I wasn’t used to taking a shower with a woman. Needless to say, the first shower was difficult for me because of my initial embarrassment. However, she and I did our best to ignore each other and get our showers taken. Then we left the shower after the dryers pulled all the water back from the enclosed room to dress ourselves in our mesh undies and then our overslicks. By the third day, I was quite used to seeing and showering with Wellesley so that I no longer felt embarrassed. I wasn’t sure how she felt about it though. She never said a word.

  * * *

  We barely spent two days back on Beulah before we went on another convoy escort job. The trip was started in the same way as before. We spent the first few hours practicing battle stations and shooting at targets before we left orbit and picked up the convoy to do our job. The five-day trip was uneventful. Not once did anything threatening approach us. The turnaround took only one day before we were escorting the freighters back. Needless to say, there weren’t any bonuses in our paychecks for that trip.

  * * *

  We were back on Beulah for only two more days before we shipped out again, following standard practicing. It was another trip to Adriena. Wellesley and I were in the shower when the call to battle stations came. We both ran naked from the shower to our gun stations and began fighting the pirate off. That one was more determined. We actually destroyed him, utterly and completely rupturing the hull, in order to protect our convoy. We took one hit ourselves, but quick reaction from the crew kept the damage isolated to the section which was hit.

  Unfortunately, it meant that Wellesley and I spent the next two days naked. We couldn’t get to any of the crew quarters to get a change of clothes since the hit was on the showers leading to our quarters. If nothing else, I was glad that we practiced battle stations each time before we joined a convoy. Otherwise, Wellesley and I might both have been casualties. We endured a bit of ribbing about being nudists from Echo, one of the members of the Union of Planets whose citizens were all nudists. However, it was good natured in tone and not meant to harm. Of course, people didn’t get too close to me after spending a day working in recycling, either.

  Because of the damage, our ship spent the turnaround time on Adriena being repaired. The company replaced our lost clothing so that we could enjoy some shore leave. We were quite the heroes when we arrived on Adriena because of the fact that we actually destroyed a pirate. Our company received salvage rights on the destroyed ship because we were responsible for its destruction.

  We received just as warm a reception back on Beulah when we returned with a new shower unit installed and other repairs so that we could use the crew quarters instead of sleeping in the corridors. Because of our action against the pirate ship, everyone receiv
ed a bonus from the company for its destruction and salvage value. The combat videos revealed that I had more hits on the pirate. My check included a bonus for those as well. Suddenly, I was starting to really put some credits of a significant nature into my account. If I ever decided to quit, I’d have enough credits to kick about for almost a year before I would be in dire financial straits. It was a good feeling to know that I had that many credits to my name.

  For a while, the trips to Adriena were almost boring because we didn’t have anyone opposing us. Our reputation preceded us. No pirate wanted to tangle with us. Even though the Adriena run was becoming tamer, we still practiced with the same degree of vigor before each run. I guess we made about seven or eight runs before the salvaged pirate ship was commissioned as another escort ship in the company fleet.

  * * *

  When the newly commissioned Edmund was placed on duty, it took over the Adriena run while we were switched to the Gabriel run. It didn’t run as often and it took longer, so our ship being larger was the logical choice since we were capable of carrying the necessary logistical supplies in order to escort the freighters our company sent to Gabriel and back.

  As with any new additions to anyone’s fleet, some of the experienced personnel were reassigned to the Edmund. New hires were brought in to even out everything on both ships. Suddenly, I wasn’t the junior crew member any longer. I still had the same gun station. However, I moved up from recycling to hydroponics. It was still an odorous job so I still had entitlement to a double shower allowance. Of course, the shower schedules were modified to reflect the gain and loss of personnel. I no longer showered with Wellesley during one shower and a man during the other. Now, both of my shower partners were women. At least, I was no longer embarrassed by sharing the shower with a woman. The first time showering with each of them, one of whom now had my old job, wasn’t a problem at all for me.