The Asking Price of Stars
John F. Baeyertz
(c) Copyright 2018 Victory Publications John Baeyertz
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Victory Publications
ISBN-13:978-0692074916 (Victory)
ISBN-10:0692074910
Cover Design by John Baeyertz
Foreword
Welcome to The Asking Price of Stars. One night five years ago I started writing Stars. I had lost Ruth my beloved wife of many years. I was at a point in my life where I needed to focus on a project beyond my grief. After finishing a science fiction novel, I thought I could have written a better book. The result is this book. I leave it to the reader to judge its merits. I claim no literary skill; it is unpretentiously a story of an adventure in the far distant future.
This book would not be possible without the help of many people. Katherine and Gene Henson who read many versions and offered numerous suggestions and added a character to the mix. My thanks to Brian Shirk who reviewed all the versions and offered worthwhile ideas.
Next, my special thanks to Janice Lehman who I met a year after starting the book. She was the first to proofread Stars, she told me when a chapter was poorly constructed, and creatively named a character. Jan also made coffee and put up with my obsession to complete the book. We recently married and live a full life traveling, reading, and enjoying life.
I’d like to thank the members of the Writers Club at Four Seasons Beaumont. Thanks to the past president Joseph Laurin who welcomed me into the club as a novice author. Roland Harrah, Ed Paules, and the late Phil Bond all read sections and offered suggestions.
Next, my deepest appreciation for Jean Laurin Lawrence of the writer’s club who volunteered to be my editor in the first draft of the book. Her fine talents, as an editor, made Stars a readable book. Finally, I thank all the staff at Victory Publishing, Jenae Noonan, and their highly skilled editors for bringing a final polish to the book.
A few quick notes: The book uses the metric system, who knows what system will be used in the distant future, but metric is at least logical. Also, much of the science in this book is fiction. No claim is made for scientific accuracy. Next, the command structure of the Free Space Force based loosely on the United States Air Force, not the Navy as in many science fiction books. Whoever commands a ship or base is a Commander and Captain is a rank just above lieutenant. Finally, for those of you who are very sensitive, a warning, this book contains violence, adult language, and adult situations. I not do believe it contains anything you would not see on television today.
All names used in this book are used fictionally and bear no resemblance to anyone living or dead.
Major Characters
Tracey Mills-Watkins - Lieutenant 3rd Class PO (Parliamentary Officer) in the FSF (Free Space Force). Just graduating from OTS (Officer Training School).
Shane (Kat) Jang - Ex Lieutenant 1st Class PO (Parliamentary Officer) Now broken to the rank of 2nd Class FO (Fleet Officer). - Looking for any ship in The Free Space Force that will take him.
Nirabella Freestar - Fleet Physician Assistant 1st Class FO. (Fleet Officer). Recently dumped by her doctor lover and looking for a new ship.
Shadow - The son of a prostitute. Shadow lives in New Haven the main space port of the planet Freehome. He is eighteen, bright and quick but totally uneducated. Killed two men so far.
Light - Twin of Shadow. A bar girl in New Haven. Killed her first person at ten. Uneducated but has impressive survival skills.
Cici De Santis - Chief Sergeant a Warrior and also a ship’s Supply Chief. Close friend of Nirabella.
Peter Guderian - A half Trocnavar cadet. Lieutenant 3rd Class PO (Parliamentary Officer). Just graduating from OTS (Officer Training School). His existence is the result of extensive Trocnavar genetic manipulation.
Tara Vasta Freeborn - Owner of Freeborn Farms. Lady with a mysterious history.
Artystaar Tiigano - Trocnavar pirate gang leader. -- Ex Imperial Blue Fleet cadet. Kills for excitement.
Fidelity Stone know as Fi - Free Space Force crew member, a cute young redhead. Just a year of FSF service.
Demitrianna Constantine - (Spider) A very young Captain and the Chief Time Wave Navigator of Green Fleet.
Other Characters
Capitan Gunson Montgomery - Weapons Officer in the FSF
Colonel Harrison Chung - Executive Officer of Green Fleet
Baryic Chahill - Chief Sergeant – Older Engineer popular with the ladies.
Centari Shamir - Lady of seventeen years’ leader of the Lost.
Rhonda Santacruz- Seventeen-year-old member of the Lost
Mark Bittman - Crewman - one of the Lost
Neil Marsborn - Van driver.
Erica Nguyen – FSF Crew Member.
Czajka - Female Weapons Officer on the Ms. Weldon II
General Alexander Bridgeford – (The Ax) - Fleet General, Commander of Green Fleet
Anna Morgan - Daughter of an innkeeper on the Pangerbar Space Station
Niikia Kaiii-var - Tough young female Trocnavar pirate commander
Count-Viceroy Markiii - commander of Troc forces."
Lord Markiii - his son
Lord Erasmus Sunstar - Prime Minister of Horizon
Lord Clovis - of Rarkiikar Clovis
Xiggott - A pirate
Chapter One –
The Planet Freehome – 06-15-517 - The Year Five Hundred and Seventeen, After Freedom, Month Six, Day Fifteen of Thirty
Tracey turned the glider trying to sense the column of rising air. She had disabled all the safety devices, locked out the lift engine, and turned off all the instruments except the air speed indicator, the altimeter, and the artificial horizon. She wanted to feel the air; to be part of the glider herself. Great clouds boiled up into the sky from green fields below. Suddenly she felt the glider shudder and it began to rise as she caught the lift. Tracey tightened the turn further to keep in the column of rising air. Damn, I love this, she thought. She turned her head to see how much the left wing was flexing. It flexed upward almost two meters, well beyond where the safety devices would have allowed.
If any of the instructors or officers at the school knew she was flying with the safeties disabled, lift engine locked out, and limited instruments they would surely set her back a half year. The risk made the flight even more exciting.
Tracey’s ear plug buzzed as Pat Richman, the student air controller said, “Tracey you better head back they are posting.”
Tracey responded, “It is two weeks early. They have only had our final test results for a few days.”
Pat explained, “I’m telling you the Great White Sheets are going up as we speak.”
“By all the gods this may be the last time I fly a glider for years. I am going take her up to the limit!” Tracey exclaimed cutting Pat off.
But, Tracey knew this was the most important day for the graduates. No data packs, no electronic transmission and no computer. By tradition, lists of each student’s ranking and their first assignment in the Free Space Force were hand written on large sheets of white paper. These were nailed to the wooden wall at the end of the old meeting hall just as it had been done for the last 356 years.
She kept the glider in rising air for another 15 minutes until she reached 4,600 meters which was the limit on Freehome without oxygen masks. She then turned and set a course for the school’s landing field. She prided herself on reaching the field by her skills as a pilot and the glider’s 45 to 1 glide ratio. Tra
cey began resetting the safety devices and instruments for normal operation. However, to test her skills as a pilot, she did not restore lift engine power until she landed on the school’s vast grass field.
The Officer Training School of the Free Space Force was located in a wide green valley covered with forests and farms. Great mountains rose to the east and low hills bound the west side. Numerous streams fed The Guderian River as it flowed slowly down the center of the valley.
Tracey popped the canopy as the first-year students reached her and began rolling the ship to the glider hangar. “Ma’m you’re the last graduate down. They are all over at the old meeting hall,” one of the freshman students told her. Tracey noted all the lifters parked along the field edge. The school’s old 20-person Space Lifters had been moved down the field and the big 40 and 60 person Space Lifters were now parked close to the flight center building. Some were marked as the personal lifters of generals and some were marked with the names of battleships, battle cruiser, and other major ships of the Free Space Force. One was marked with a bright green band. The freshman pointed to it and said, “You know what that means?” Tracey nodded yes, she knew.
An hour later Tracey, freshly showered and in clean utilities, walked across the quad toward a large high stone and timber building. The Old Meeting Hall had been here almost from the start. She passed a group of second year cadets. One called out, “Hello, beautiful! Come see me if you want to spend your last week here with a real man.”
Tracey yelled, “I didn’t know you had an older brother! I sure as hell hope he is better looking than you!”
Tracey did not consider herself a beauty. She was tall, just over 170 centimeters, and well-muscled thanks to years of playing Field Ball as a Soft Bat Forward. Her hips were wide with muscles and her breasts small. She did not match the voluptuous soft curves currently popular in Vid Stars. On a smaller woman, her face would be called cute with a small up turned nose, large blue eyes, and just a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, but on Tracey, handsome would be a better description. Tracey kept her blonde hair cut exceedingly short. In early days of the Free Space Force too many women and men died when their long hair caused a leak in their space suit helmet seals. Tracey continued on to the hall. As she entered she looked right and left and saw the names of every Space Force Officer who died while on fleet service carved into the high stone walls. There were many names and room for many, many more. She passed two sobbing cadets Looks like those two lovers won’t be serving close to each other. Tracey found there was still a large group of third year cadets gathered at the white sheets.
The Officer Training School had five levels of rating; Above Standard, High Standard, Standard, Low Standard, and Below Standard. At the end of the third year by graduation few if any of the last two low ratings were left. Everyone with a Standard or higher rating would receive a Parliamentary Commission as a Space Force Officer, a Lieutenant 3rd Class Parliamentary Officers (P.O.) and would become the leaders and masters of the Free Space Force.
However, class rankings were also critical; the higher the ranking the better the first assignment. The two highest ranking levels were assigned directly to the fleets. Cadets ranking Standard were assigned to fleet support. If a cadet performed well on the ground or on an orbiting station he or she could be sent to the fleets in a few standard years. Of course, a rating could be overlooked if the cadet’s father, mother, aunt, or uncle was a General, a Member of Parliament, or extraordinarily wealthy.
Tracey was concerned because her grades and athletic evaluations ranked her in the gray area between High Standard, and Standard. Her athletic scores were high and her scores were solid in Weapons Systems, History, Languages, Ship Systems, and Ship Administration, but she just passed the classes in Advanced Mathematics, Time Wave Drives, and Time Wave Navigation.
Two hundred and three Cadets were on the list. Tracey traced down lines with her finger looking for her name. The first nine names were Above Standard. She kept moving down numbers 20, 35, and 40 and there was still no Tracey Mills-Watkins. Below 60 were the Cadets who were rated Standard. At last she found her name at number 56. Tracey shouted, “By all the gods and hells I am going to a fleet!”Her finger traced over to see which fleet and ship she would serve on.
“Damn, Damn, Damn!” she exhaled.
Chapter Two
– New Haven City on Freehome, the Capital of the League of Free Stars, 06-15-517.
Shane Kat Jang (Kat) slowly awoke with his head feeling like it was being crushed in a vise. He managed to get his left hand up to his head and found there was no vise. Still, a large number of things were awfully wrong. His head hurt beyond pain. The “bed” in which he lay was hard as stone, wet, cold, and smelled like a sewer. Kat’s mind raced, “My gods I smell a sewer full of vomit. If I can open my eyes: O my gods, it is so bright. How could I, Shane Kat Jang PO Lieutenant 1st, Class, be in this mess? I will raise my head just a bit. My gods I am beaten black and blue and laying in a sewage gutter! My data pack is gone along with all my money in it! The pack contained all my identification. My shoes are gone!”
Kat was even dressed in the wrong uniform. He was wearing what was left of a 2nd Class Fleet Officer’s uniform. “Why by all the hells do I have this uniform on? Fleet Officers were levels below any officer who held a Parliamentary Commission.” Slowly Kat’s memory returned. He began to recall the Board of Inquirer months ago and, in particular the ruling affecting him.
At the end of that inquirer, Colonel Brashear looked down on Kat and had said “This board finds you, Shane Kat Jang, to have been drunk on duty. You are reduced to the rank of Lieutenant 2nd Class.” Not too bad, thought Kat. The Colonel’s next words were, “We also find you guilty of being drunk in uniform at a formal public event, The Annual Parliament and Military Officers Ball. You are reduced to the rank of Lieutenant 3rd Class” Not good, said Kat to himself.
Brashear continued “Next, the Board finds you guilty of hitting Lieutenant Cynthia Chin after she slapped you twice for what you said to her. For decencies sake, I will not repeat your words, but Chin should have slapped you twenty times. You should have taken the slaps like an officer and a gentleman. Your Parliamentary Commission is withdrawn and you are further reduced to the rank of Fleet Officer 1st Class” Very bad, exceedingly bad, was Kat’s only thought. Next the Colonel said, “Shane Kat Jang you are found guilty of breaking the nose and wrist of Captain Gunson Montgomery when he tried to stop you from hitting Lieutenant Chin.” My gods Gunson was my friend, sped through Kat’s mind.
Colonel Brashear concluded, “You are further reduced to the rank of Fleet Officer 2nd Class. Shane Kat Jang, you are a disgrace to the Free Space Force and the League of Free Stars. Were it not for your outstanding record in combat, you would be dismissed from the Free Space Force!”
Kat’s friends told him he was lucky to be kept in the Space Force and that he better stay dry. But that admonition had not stopped him from drinking last night. Kat remembered: I was in a tavern called The Last Wave, near the space port just outside New Haven. The Last Wave is not a place you often find officers even Fleet Officers, but bar girls are very friendly and the yellow spiced liquor cheap. What the hell happened to me? I remember walking out of one of the back rooms after some fun with a bar girl. I paid her what she asked. Did she set me up? Next I seem to remember ordering more yellow liquor and dancing with the bar girls. Then I found myself on the floor. After that it’s a blank.
Kat’s mind returned to his present problems. He managed to drag himself up to sit on the curb. Two enlisted crew, in sharp clean utilities, walked past him. One said, “It’s a joke to see an officer like that. What a drunken scum.” Kat tried to respond, but it came out as “fucee goo.” The two crew members laughed and walked on.
Half an hour later a voice asked, “You need help space man?” Kat turned and saw a bar girl but not the one he had been with last night. Her small body was thin and strong, her muscles like steel cables. Light
brown hair capped her fine cut face. She moved with quick smooth motions to help him to his feet. “You need to wash, and get some clean clothing. We shall trade.”
Trade what? Kat thought.
Chapter Three
– The Planet Green Four, Orbiting Green’s Star – 6-16-517
It was early morning at the Space Force ground base on the planet Green Four. Many of the crews were out on the balconies of the enlisted barracks getting ready for a day’s work or packing gear for a lifter ride up to their ships or to the space station. Nirabella heard a crewman on the nearest balcony yell down at her, “You sure are good looking for a fatty!” The Chief Sergeant driving the power cart asked, “Shall I go up and kill him for you?” Nirabella knew the Chief Sergeant would do it if she asked, but she wouldn’t ask. Nirabella recalled meeting the sergeant a standard year ago. She had reattached the sergeant’s leg that was cut off during a nasty battle between the Free Space Force Republican Lady and a pirate light cruiser. The sergeant, Cici De Santis lost 50% of her blood and was clinically dead. The Doctor was occupied with four higher ranking officers who were also seriously wounded. So, Nirabella as a physician’s assistant along two nurses pumped the sergeant full of blood, drugs and then restarted her heart and breathing. Two hours later when Cici was stable Nirabella’s team began reattaching Cici’s leg blood system, bones, muscles, and ligaments. Six hours later Nirabella undertook the delicate process to start re-growing the nerves. If she had waited for the doctor it would have been impossible to restart Cici’s heart. Doctor Tommy told Nirabella, “Few physicians could do the surgery as well.”
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