Eric Olafson: Space Pirate

by Vanessa Ravencroft

  Now it was Mao who scratched his head. “Sir, that was quite a while ago, was it not, and the Nosirrah joined the Union, and so did the Shail, who were the original reason for those initial hostilities.”

  Harris sighed. “This is true, but our wonderful big Navy is also a big bureaucracy. The construction of two large Class B stations was planned almost 750 years ago. One here at Richter and one across the gap at Lyon Star. As the war didn’t come, the project importance was reduced from high to very low, but it was not canceled. Construction orders were given by the Fleet Asset Bureau twelve years ago, and now we got two new big bases that are more or less obsolete. However, since they are there, regulations also require them to be staffed and maintained by a crew of six hundred enlisted and twenty-five officers. Richter Station is ten officers short of that required compliment. The Personnel Allocation Office at Fleet Command will dispatch ten officers in six to eight weeks. Since you are officers and dismissed from school, we thought it would be a nice quiet duty assignment for you before your actual career starts.”

  After the briefing, Harris held me back and handed me a sealed order chip. “Ensign Olafson, keep this order chip sealed and do not open it unless you feel or observe anything unusual.”

  I took the chip and said, “Sir, would there be a chance that I observe something unusual?”

  “You will be very close to Free Space and the station sees little traffic, so keep your eyes open.”

  I knew this was all I would get as an answer.

  Six hours later, we found ourselves on a long-range shuttle flight to Richter Base.

  Chapter 11: Richter Base

  “Duty on a Class B Fleet Base sounds like a nice posting for a few weeks!” said Hans, leaning back as we sat in the Long Range Shuttle on our way to Richter System and he added, “Class B is huge and designed to be home to serve an entire Battlegroup. There will be shops, first class recreation and lots of restaurants and they will have attractions too!”

  Wetmouth, who sat to my left and much closer than she had ever done before, looked up from her ever-present Archimedes III science scan enabled PDD and said, “As the captain said, it is a new base, it has an attached base personnel housing complex called Richter Village and, according to the Fisher Index, rated 9.9.”

  Cirruit, who appeared to be napping, raised his shiny chrome metal head and asked with a sleepy voice, “What is the Fisher Index?”

  She answered, “A fleet approved publication listing every fleet installation with detailed information like what businesses are available, recreation facilities, housing quality and prices and so forth. It is intended for civilians who decide to move to such facilities or are sent there by their companies.”

  Cirruit leaned over and looked at the PDD. “I never heard of the Fischer Index. Does it list the shops and souvenir dealers and all that?”

  She smiled as I saw by her eyes and said, “You are more addicted to shopping than a bunch of teenage girls, and yes, it does.”

  He spread his arms. “What can I do? This is how Mother Machine made me.”

  Elfi, who was watching something on GalNet said, “What kind of planet is Richter 4?”

  Narth and Wetty almost answered simultaneously, Narth was a little faster, as he didn’t have to consult a PDD but he then said, “My memorized data might not be as accurate or current as your PDD, Ensign Wetmouth, so please continue.”

  “You can call me Wetty, like all the others do, Narth.”

  He cocked his shrouded head as he always did when he contemplated something and it made me think that he was starting to have individual habits. “Ah yes, the practice to address friends with nicknames is a common one among humans. I am, however, still not certain when such a nickname is used as a sign of affection among friends or when it is used as an insult to those one dislikes. Furthermore, one needs explicit permission from a fellow officer to be addressed in such fashion since we all advanced to this state. Finally, I have yet to understand how a nickname is generated. Some nicknames appear to be a short version of a name, and then there are those that have no bearing on the name. Is there a formula or an equation you use?”

  I almost laughed out loud as Wetmouth cocked her head. “What an interesting question! No, we do not use an equation to come to a nickname. Nicknames are generated by the combination of many factors. I will attempt to make a list of factors by analyzing nicknames and see if it could be expressed in a socio-humanistic formula of some kind.”

  Narth slightly bowed. “Such an endeavor would be very much appreciated. My previous attempts in addressing others with nicknames were not successful.”

  Har-Hi turned his head and actually had a smile on his usually grim face, as it was imperative for a Dai warrior to always look that way. “I should not ask, but I am actually dying, to use a human phrase, to hear of one such incident. Who did you address with a nickname and what happened?”

  I actually felt something like a feeling of embarrassment from Narth as he said, “I wanted to express my respect to Admiral Stahl, as I heard others call him the Eternal Soldier, but since nothing is eternal, especially not in the mono-directional linear time model you humans use, I called him, Temporal Wrong Designated Person Who Isn’t Actually a Soldier but an Admiral.”

  I could barely contain my laughter. “That’s sure a mouthful for a nickname. What did he say?”

  Narth answered, “He sternly insisted that I would address him properly by name and rank.”

  It was Mao’s fault. He started to giggle first, and then we all laughed.

  Elfi actually hugged Narth and said, “No worries, I am sure he understood the sentiment and to make sure you know, you can call me Elfi.”

  Finally, Wetmouth managed to answer the original question and said, “Richter 4 is a Type Nine Rock core planet with a thin Carbon dioxide atmosphere and temperatures in the range of minus fifty and plus ten on the C scale. The planet experiences strong sand and dust storms that can last for a month. There is no open surface water and no reported native life.”

  Hans crossed his arms and leaned back. The sturdy Vari-form seat protested with a metallic groan. “I am not planning to go outside very much, but that is actually the kind of environment we Saturnians were genetically designed to survive and work in.”

  Passing the time like this, we dropped out of Quasi-space six days later and into the Richter System.

  As we approached the reddish-brown planet, I was reminded of Alvor’s Cove. There wasn’t much difference between those two worlds, looking at them from space. Richter 4 was only a few shades darker and had distinctive reddish tones mixed into the sandy browns.

  Our shuttle had received landing instructions and went down over the night side of the planet. There, on a dusty plain surrounded by tall mountains, were four gigantic landing fields arranged in typical Union fashion, like the petals of a large flower centered on a shimmering blue half-sphere. Brilliant floodlights and landing field beacons in various colors illuminated the base and made it stand out of the otherwise dark surroundings. I actually found the sight quite beautiful to look at.

  Beyond the landing fields, to the planetary east, a large transparent hemisphere filled with green and the shimmering surface of what looked like a large lake. On the outskirts of the landing field, toward the south, were the service buildings and warehouses of a dockyard, big enough to repair dreadnoughts and the largest standard battleships.

  Har-Hi looked through a viewing port and said, “It doesn’t look like a bad place to spend a few weeks. I am always fascinated by Union bases since we Dai do not have planetary facilities.”

  Shaka was staring through the viewport on his side and said, “Does it not strike you odd, that there is not a single ship on any of those four landing fields?”

  I did not see one either on my side and said, “It isn’t exactly a very busy part of space, or maybe they are underground.” I noticed that instead of the large robot arm often used to move landed transports to their final destinat
ion, we had landed on a big elevator platform and descended below the surface.

  Shaka was not satisfied with this answer. “This is a Class B; there should be at least some of the ships of the assigned battlegroup or fleet. There wasn’t even a single ship in the dockyard.”

  The shuttle pilot who had come from the flight deck, opening the back door and lowering the ramp, turned and said, “I was thinking the same thing; never seen a dockyard with not at least one ship being worked on, but then this is a quiet quadrant of space and a new base.”

  We took our gear bags, and Hans shouldered the small container of additional gear we had taken along. We wished the pilot a safe return and went down to the surface.

  A team of new-looking S-18 service robots approached the shuttle to refuel it as we stepped on a slide belt carrying us toward the spaceport buildings. This subsurface hangar was enormous, but no shuttle or transport other than the Devi shuttle was seen. More robots and a large surface cleaning machine cleaned the already spotless surface in the distance, but there was not a living soul anywhere. No load handlers, no technicians, nobody.

  Shaka turned to Wetmouth. “Does that Fischer Index say what fleet is assigned to this base?”

  She shook her head. “No military information is included, but I am checking Fleet Central, one moment.”

  The sliding belt merged with a faster one and carried us into the main terminal. The usual shop signs and restaurants were all there, but most of them were dark or closed. Only a fully automated Swine and Dine seemed open. There was no one. The main terminal should have been busy.

  Wetmouth said, “I just double checked, but as far as I can tell, no Fleet or battlegroup is assigned to this base.”

  The sliding belt ended before the entry checkpoint that was not attended.

  Mao dropped his bag and turned once around his axis. “Don’t tell me we are all alone here!”

  “Maybe they are all hiding and do a big surprise thing. They only missed my hatchling survival day by seven days!” Krabbel responded.

  Har-Hi’s hand went to the butt of his gun. “Someone is coming!”

  A man on an Arti-G Scooter floated from across the concourse and stopped behind the entry control point and simply deactivated the entry denial fields and lowered the barrier.

  He was a human commander and wore a Fleet uniform, but instead of boots, he wore slippers, and he was unshaven. He waved us to come in and said, “Sorry, guys, I expected you a few hours later, but welcome to Richter Base.”

  I called my team to attention and said, “Ensign Olafson and team reporting as ordered, sir.” I held out our official order chip for him to take and inspect. He wiped his hands on the seat of his pants took the order chip and put it in his pocket. He didn’t look friendly or pleased to see us at all.

  He said with a grumpy voice, “Here is the thing, ensigns; this is a completely obsolete and unnecessary base. You see, we are on the fringes of the Sagittarius Arm. There aren’t many star systems left around us, and then there is a wide void of fifteen hundred light years.”

  I took the chance without him ordering so, and said to my team, “At ease.” To the commander, I then said, “Yes, sir, we have been briefed about the strategic location of the base.”

  He snorted. “Splendid, then they also briefed you that the war never happened, that there are no settlers or colonists pushing into this region because there isn’t anything to colonize. Our sister station across the gap at Lyon Star had better luck. There are a few Nosirrah systems within reach, and they became the base for the 273rd Fleet. Here, the closest inhabited Union system is sixty-two light years away and only technically in our jurisdiction, but they have the Union Ranger Sector office there and never need us.” He raised his arms. “But Navy Regulations require a Class B Base to be staffed and so it is. It is a quiet and peaceful posting and those who are here like it that way, as there is absolutely nothing to do.

  “Technically, we are supposed to provide quadrant security, but there are no Union assets in this quadrant, so the battleship that would be needed to do that was never assigned to us. The Wolfcraft fighters are still in parts in their original shipping crates, because we have not received the necessary personnel, namely Wolfcraft fighter pilots, and technicians.”

  I already feared the answer when I asked, “What is it you want us to do then?”

  He kept his arms in the air. “Do whatever you want; that’s what everyone else is doing here. I do have one order for you, though. Stay out of my hair. I like my peace and quiet, and I don’t want green-nosed, wet-behind-the-ears freshly graduated ensigns ask me every five minutes what to do. Any questions?”

  Narth raised his hand. “This is a very unusual request, sir. I had no intentions to stay in your hair at all. It would prove a very uncomfortable place for me to stay. I also do not have a nose that is green, and I can assure you my ears or any area that could be designated to be behind them is not wet. Since I do not possess any of these qualities, does that mean that you do want me then to ask you what to do every five minutes?”

  The commander blinked, completely baffled, and then said, “What is he, some kind of joker? Well, he must be, dressing up like a Narth.” He pointed his finger at Narth. “Listen Ensign Whoever You Are. I don’t care if you like to play Halloween every day. As far as I care, you can dance naked across the main concourse, but if you want to pretend to be a Narth, you should not make stupid jokes. I know of them; they do not make jokes. So, before you decide to make any more of those mindless remarks, let me tell you I’ve heard them all.”

  Har-Hi actually stopped Narth from saying anything more by putting his hand over the area where he suspected its mouth to be and whispered, “We’ll explain later, just remain quiet for now.”

  The commander returned to talking to us all. “As I said, stay out of my hair and do whatever you want. This is a fully functional base, and there are no waiting lists at all for the recreational facilities. Find yourself a place to stay. There is a five-star Hilton over there, no live service, of course, but it isn’t locked up. Then there are very exclusive Quarters for never-visiting admirals and foreign dignitaries on the top level of the Fleet Guest Accommodation Building over there. You could take the inter-base transport and go to Richter Town, a few thousand apartments, houses, and more hotels, all free for the taking.”

  He climbed back on his scooter. “Here are my orders. Stay away from Command and Control. We got that covered. Stay away from Sublevels 17 and 18. They are still under construction, God knows why. I don’t want to write an accident report explaining why one of you got hurt by a tunneling robot. Other than that, the base is yours and what you do for the next few weeks until the regular replacements arrive is your business.”

  With that, he started the scooter and simply left us behind.

  Elfi said, “Pinch me. I must be dreaming or is this a joke?”

  Narth reached out and pinched her, and she jumped. He said, “If I observe your state of consciousness correctly, I do not think you are dreaming. However, my understanding of humor is still not well developed, and I found his statements not amusing.”

  Elfi rubbed her nicely shaped butt, and her eyes sparked as she turned to Narth. “Your understanding of metaphors also needs much work.”

  Mao rubbed his chin. “I think Captain Harris knew exactly where he was sending us, maybe so we have a few weeks of some sort of vacation. My gut, however, tells me this isn’t going to be a vacation after all.”

  Har-Hi shouldered his sizeable and heavy-looking bag and asked me, “So what do you want us to do?”

  I said, “We set up a base of operations and get situated and unpacked. After that, Krabbel and Mao will organize dinner for 2000 hrs. Har-Hi, Cirruit, and Shaka will check the hangars and see what kind of spacecraft the base has. Maybe we can use one to explore the system a little. Narth and Wetmouth, you find a terminal and pull the mission statement of this base. They have to have a mission profile. Go over the recent station l
ogs and see what they report to Fleet Command every day. Elfi, you make a list of the recreation facilities so we can include those in our daily routines. Hans, prepare an intel and security report for this quadrant. If it is as quiet and out of the way as everyone says it is, I think those on the Free Space side know that as well. I would also see what Fleet has to say about the Bitllors. If they are as primitive as claimed, someone might protect them.”

  The Dai was shaking his head. “You do have a knack for this. I would have never thought of all this.”

  I could actually tell now when Wetmouth smiled, despite her mask. She said, “He does indeed!”

  We went to the Fleet visitor building. I did not want to use the hotel, as it felt like cheating to me. While we walked there, Narth and Wetmouth discussed the comments the commander had made, and she tried to explain to him what he meant with all the metaphors he had used.

  Narth complained, “I have no desire to dance with or without garments and why would I want to pretend what I am already?”

  Krabbel commented with his high voice, “I could dance naked, but I doubt this commander has much interest in Archa cultural performances.”

  Cirruit boxed Krabbel in the side as we reached the Fleet building and said, “We are all going to see you dance soon enough. Over there is an automated Baskin Robbins store.”

  Krabbel said, “What is so special about that?”

  I turned with a grin and said, “They specialize in ice cream and have many flavors.”

  He shrieked, excited, and we all laughed.

  The quarters on the top level of the Fleet building tower were incredible, with huge viewports overlooking much of the base and the truly desolate and empty landscape. Luxury baths, state of the art Auto-Dressers, hygiene centers and Vari-Form beds with adjustable Arti-Grav, complete with Avatar-enabled GalNet terminals and Virtu-Experience Consoles. These quarters were meant as guest quarters for admirals, foreign dignitaries, ambassadors and the like. Everything had the feel of being brand new and never used.