ARMS War for Eden

by Arseneault, Stephen

  When the deal was stamped and the credits transferred, Gandy turned in his resignation, shaking his fist at the other sales veterans who had missed out on a healthy commission. The threesome caught a flyer back to the spaceport.

  Gandy said, “You know, the boneyard is open around the clock. We could go looking for parts if you wanted. The Kingfisher won’t be available until the morning anyway.”

  Harris replied, “Would your sister be interested in meeting us there?”

  Gandy shrugged, “I could try her.”

  A comm call was placed. After a short discussion, Trish Boleman was on her way.

  “You’ll like her, Mr. Gruberg. She knows her stuff. Not so much on the small ships, but the big cruiseliners and megahaulers. She likes the big power systems of the new boats.”

  “So now you’re saying I shouldn’t hire her?”

  Gandy shook his head. “Not at all. She’s a great mechanic and should make a good first mate. I was just referring to her interests.”

  Harris rubbed his belly as he looked over at Tawn. “You getting hungry?”

  Tawn chuckled. “Not really. Since the girl is on the way to meet us, how about we wait until after checking the boneyard to get food. Gandy? You gonna be hungry?”

  Gandy nodded. “I am now, but I can wait. I love going to the boneyard to just walk around. They have one section where the ships are all over five hundred standard years old. They’re mostly junk, but it’s cool to see stuff that old. I think they just keep them around for marketing. Doubt any parts have been taken off them for centuries.”

  Another taxi-flyer was called and a short trip made out to the vast Magnessen ship graveyard. The sign on the front of the building beside the landing port reported more than forty square kilometers of ‘Retired Transportation’. Trish Boleman was standing near the building in wait.

  “You Mr. Goober?”

  Tawn laughed.

  “That’s Gruberg.”

  Trish’s expression changed as the two hulking Biomarines stopped in front of her. “Gandy, can I speak with you over here for a minute?”

  Gandy replied, “Yes, they’re a slug and a stump. But they’re also nice people. Nothing like what you see on the news where they’re getting in trouble. These two are business people. And they have money. And they have ships. You wanted experience on a real ship… these two have them.”

  Tawn said, “Hey. You can relax. We aren’t gonna eat your face or anything.”

  Trish folder her arms. “Didn’t say that. Just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.”

  Harris said, “Well, just so you know, she can be a little difficult to get along with, but my dog likes her.”

  “What kind of dog do you have?”

  Harris grinned. “A robotic one. His name’s Farker.”

  Trish scowled. “A robot dog? Why not a real one?”

  Harris leaned in. “I had a real one once… ate his face off.”

  Trish stared for several seconds. “Hmm. Didn’t think you people had a sense of humor.”

  Gandy raised his hand. “Hello… boneyard… can we go look around?”

  Tawn nodded. “Yeah. The humor out here is kind of stale. What are we looking for exactly?”

  Gandy replied, “We’re looking for Zwickers, or any other ships from that time period we can strip parts from. If I’m going to be maintaining one of those, I want to know where I can get replacement parts from. There’s two other boneyards this size on this planet. This one’s the closest, and we’re here, so let’s get going.”

  Chapter 14

  _______________________

  Tawn asked, “We’re walking. Would this be better done from a flyer?”

  “Yep.” Gandy replied, “Got one coming. Just thought it would be cool to walk for a few minutes.”

  They came to a stop in front of a strange looking ship.

  Harris asked, “What the heck is that?”

  Gandy replied, “That one was called a Beeman. It’s an asteroid miner. All of those bubble-looking extensions are drill and scraper heads. The ship latches itself onto the asteroid. Those arms wrap around and start consuming it. Can chew up an asteroid the size of that hopper in about an hour.”

  Harris half scowled at the hideous looking ship. “Was there that much to be made in asteroid mining?”

  Gandy nodded. “At first. They had a big fleet going at one time. Nickel was at a premium for the war effort back then and everyone wanted a piece of the bonanza. Once they had mined out the easy stuff, the deep nickel mines up at Hollinger were discovered. The fleet collapsed almost overnight. Cool ships though.”

  The yard flyer landed next to the group.

  The pilot asked, “What you hunting for?”

  Gandy leaned forward, placing his hand on the back of the pilot’s seat. “Specifically Zwickers. That or anything in the two-to-three-hundred-year-old range.”

  The pilot nodded. “That would be Lot F. How long you gonna be there?”

  Gandy shrugged. “Couple hours?”

  After a quick ride the pilot set the flyer down at the desired location. “I’ll be back in two to pick you up. If you change your plans just call in.”

  The flyer lifted, blowing air from its retrojets before zipping away.

  Trish waved the dust from in front of her face. “He could have waited for us to get clear.”

  Harris asked, “How big is Lot F?”

  Gandy pointed. “See that hilltop over there and that stand of trees this way?”

  Harris nodded.

  “That’s just the start of it. I figured if we could make it to the hilltop we should be able to see most of what’s in this section of the yard.”

  Tawn looked around with her hands on her hips. “They don’t have an inventory of their ships? I would think we could have been taken right to any Zwickers.”

  Gandy half smiled. “I guess we could do that, too. Was hoping to get an idea of what-all was out here. You don’t have to get Zwicker parts specifically if you’re doing something like re-plumbing a shower or installing a new air filtration system.”

  “Where are the Zwickers?” Tawn asked.

  “Just over the hill.”

  Fifteen minutes of walking had the foursome standing on the hilltop. “Zwickers are down there. Looks like four of them. Oh wow… they have a Banshee. I didn’t notice that last time I was here. Trish, can you take them down to the Zwickers while I go check that out?”

  Trish sighed. “Sure. Dump them on me and run. He gets all excited over the old fighters.”

  Gandy began to run down the hill as Trish yelled out. “There’s a reason they don’t make those anymore, you know! It’s called a plasma cannon!”

  The twenty-one-year-old fledgling mechanic gestured to the others. “Come on. Let’s have a look at these. I’d say the one on the left had a hard crash. It’s warped going from front to back. Hulls look intact on all four of them, though. That could be a good sign.”

  Harris asked, “The fighter he’s going to look at, why’d they quit making those?”

  Trish laughed. “Seriously? One shot from a plasma cannon and you were vapor. In a bigger ship you at least have bulkheads to limit damage to a section. With the fighter it was one hit and you’re out.”

  “Wouldn’t they be harder to hit?”

  “At first they were, but then the engineers figured out how to widen the plasma round’s effective area. Didn’t take the power of a full round to knock out all your systems. So the big ships would blast these fat pulses all over the place and then come back through with the powershot for the kill once they were disabled.

  “Fighter Corps used to be where it was at in the fleet. Six months after the wide-shot came out they parked the last of ‘em. Couldn’t get pilots crazy enough to throw away their lives. The Banshee was one of the last fighter models to be deployed. It’s Gandy’s favorite ship of all time.”

  Trish pushed a dead shrub to the side to get to the hatch of the first Zwicker. “One of you
want to give me a hand? Doubt this thing will even open. Although, I don’t see any corrosion.”

  Tawn stepped up. “Here… this one pushes in and slides. The manual interlock is down here.”

  Tawn pushed on a small disk before twisting it clockwise. The hatch of the Zwicker puffed as it sucked in, dumping a centuries worth of dust on the unsuspecting openers. Harris laughed at the gray covered duo.

  Tawn turned. “Zip it or I’ll come over there and punch your block head.”

  Harris held up a hand. “OK. You’d have laughed at me, too. Can we get in?”

  Tawn turned. Pushing in and to the right, she slid the ancient door of the Zwicker transport to the open position.

  Trish looked in over her shoulder. “Wow. Looks like no one has been in it since it was put here. I’ve been in others and there’s at least some dust on the floor. This looks pristine.”

  Tawn laughed. “Smells pristine. Harris, get over here. Tell me that doesn’t smell just like yours.”

  Harris stepped up to the hatch. “Hmm. It is familiar.”

  Tawn chuckled. “Smells like there’s a dead stump in here or something.”

  “Hey now. Let’s not be rude.”

  Trish stepped up into the craft. “I bet we could pick just about anything we wanted out of here. Gaskets and seals will be worthless, as would any plastics. Metal flanges, piping, ducts, even the seats look decent.”

  The young mechanic sat on a bench. “Wow. Those are horrible.”

  Tawn laughed. “Yep. Same as his.”

  Tawn walked into the cockpit. “Console looks like it’s in better shape than ours. Harris? Aren’t we missing this gauge? Power of something?”

  Harris glanced over her shoulder. “Huh. Wondered what that was supposed to be. Miss Boleman, you bring your tools?”

  Trish patted a pouch on her hip. “The basics.”

  “You pull that gauge and hook it up in the Bangor and you’ve got yourself a job as a first mate.”

  Trish frowned. “I have to be honest. I only came out here to humor my brother. I kind of like where I’m at. And if I leave I know there’s no going back. It’s still just an apprenticeship, but if I stick it out, the full mechanic position pays well.”

  Harris asked. “How much you make there in a week?”

  “With O.T.?”

  Harris nodded. “Sure, with O.T.”

  Trish sighed. “Three fifty a week, but I could easily make five hundred if I get a mechanic slot.”

  Harris smiled. “My first mate position pays five hundred credits a week. You’re always on call, and you pay for your own meals, room and board when off the ship. A uniform is optional.”

  Tawn chuckled.

  Harris shook his head. “Not optional optional, just ‘you don’t have to wear one’ optional.”

  Trish leaned her head to one side as she looked over the gauge and pondered the offer. “That sounds generous.”

  Harris grinned. “It’s more than Tawn offered your brother.”

  Tawn scowled. “Really? You’re going there?”

  Trish nodded. “If that’s true then I’ll take it. He’s been lauding that sales job over me for months.”

  Tawn replied, “He wasn’t commissioned yet, so whatever he told you was fabricated. He was earning the minimum hourly rate.”

  Trish placed her hands on her hips. “That little weasel. He told me he got 3 percent of sales on top of a base salary.”

  “That would be what a veteran salesman draws. He was far from that. Anyway, what I offered him was more than fair.”

  Trish turned to face Harris. “So what would my duties be? What are you expecting?”

  Harris crossed his arms. “I want her washed and waxed at least once per month.”

  Trish scowled. “Be serious. Other than replacing this gauge, what would I be doing?”

  Harris thought for a moment. “OK, I’d say keeping on top of all mechanical work. Possibly advising on upgrades should we run across any we feel we need. Inventory control. All inside cleaning, aside from the maintenance. And basically be a backup for anything I do as captain. Buy fuel, see to it that our port fees are paid… just about everything, I guess.”

  Tawn laughed. “Sounds like he’s looking for pack mule he can throw all his weight on.”

  Trish held up her hand. “Hold on. I don’t have issue with taking on those duties if that’s what’s expected. Just don’t expect me to be your slave. Treat me with some respect and I’ll be the best first mate you ever had.”

  Tawn chuckled. “You’ll be the only first mate he ever had.”

  Harris said, “Look kid, I’m new to being a captain. You do what I ask, within reason, keep the Bangor flying, and crack a joke or two about Miss Freely on occasion, and we’ll get along great.”

  Trish took a deep breath as she held out her hand. “Mr. Gruberg, I think you just landed a first mate.”

  Harris chuckled as he shook his head. “Not if you can’t get that gauge working.”

  Trish pulled a tool from her pouch. Four quick-releases were twisted and a panel removed. A connector was detached and the gauge twisted out of its holder.

  “You mean this gauge?”

  Harris smiled. “I’d say you’re halfway home.”

  Trish’s brother stepped up into the ship. “That was awesome. That fighter saw action. Hull is covered with pockmarks and blast scars. Cockpit was about the only thing left intact. Looked like all the nav gear was pulled from it though.”

  Gandy looked around. “This all looks perfect. It’s like a time capsule.”

  He pulled a database of that particular ship up on a tablet. “Wormhole generator died about two hundred forty years ago. And two of the retros went bad, so it was scrapped. Says this one was used to carry diplomats and officers while in service. Never made it to the front. Everything else shows as functional. Was privately owned until dumped here.”

  Trish said, “You have anything else you need out of here while we’re at it?”

  Harris shook his head. “Nothing I know of.”

  Tawn stepped over to the hatch. “How about we go see about getting me a ship?”

  Harris chuckled. “You in a hurry? Thought we were gonna eat next?”

  “I just don’t want to have my ship get sold to someone else.”

  Gandy said, “Take me to a comm and we can put down a deposit. If he thinks it’s from a legit broker he won’t try to back out. Legal fees would kill a small seller in that scenario. The Vets taught me that during my first week. Were bragging about how the laws were skewed in the favor of the brokers.”

  Tawn nodded. “I like that option. Let’s you and I go make that happen. And you might want to call that flyer back out to pick us up.”

  Gandy looked at the time on his wristband. “If we hustle he should be waiting when we get there.”

  A fast walk had the four picked up in the flyer. A comm was placed to the Shipmasters of Chicago Port and a deposit for the Kingfisher placed it on hold. Another flyer took the group to a local restaurant with an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  Trish and Gandy sat in awe and disgust as Tawn and Harris shredded the plates of food that were stacked before them.

  Gandy shook his head. “It’s not humanly possible for someone to eat that much that fast. You two must be hollow.”

  Trish set down a half eaten barbecue bogler rib. “I was hungry when I got here. Think I might be sick.”

  Harris looked up from his plate, barbecue sauce lined the rim of his mouth. “We’re paying for this. Eat up.”

  Trish began to giggle as the couple at the next table moved to the other end of the restaurant. “There goes another one. Now I see why you people aren’t so popular. You’re pigs.”

  Tawn stood as she looked at a new attendant at the buffet. “Oh… that’s right. They were bringing out more pork chops. I’ll be right back.”

  Harris pointed at the half-eaten bogler rib. “Couple months ago we were on Farmingdale for the annual bogler migr
ation. There must have been a billion of them came down out of the mountain pastures into the plains. Took our ship, nearly thirty tons, and rolled it about a kilometer. We rode it out in this set of concrete buildings for about ten days with a bunch of mountain men. Was interesting.”

  Gandy asked, “If boglers are native to here, what are they doing out there?”

  Harris set his meat on his plate. “The colonists said early settlers brought out a herd and it got loose. No predators and almost unlimited food on those plains for centuries. Herd just continues to grow every year. There are so many animals in that herd, if all were brought to slaughter at once, they could feed every Human for a year. All of us.”

  Trish shook her head. “You look like you just finished them all off.”

  Harris grinned. “I’m not done yet.”

  Three hours at the buffet had the regular Humans begging to leave.

  Tawn pushed her plate away. “Boy that was good. I take back what I said about parking in a luxury hotel and eating ourselves to death. I could so do that right now.”

  Trish frowned. “I think I just puked up a little of that rib.”

  Tawn took a handful of towelettes and carefully wiped her face and hands. Harris followed with a trip to the restroom, emerging with a clean face.

  Gandy sat with his arms crossed. “This mean we can go? I’m starting to rethink my resignation at the ship store.”

  Tawn gestured toward the door. “Let’s go buy a ship.”

  ***

  It was morning. The Bangor settled into her rented slip on Chicago Port Station. A ten minute walk had the group standing on the promenade outside the Moonlight Lounge.

  Gandy held up a hand. “Let Trish and me go in and do the talking. I’ll see if I can talk him down. He sees either of you and he’s gonna try to take advantage. Everybody knows slugs and stumps are—“

  Gandy held his tongue.

  Tawn laughed. “Go ahead. You can say it. Slow. Everybody thinks we’re slow. And it’s a misnomer. What we are is inexperienced with normal human interaction. IQs are about average. Dealing with people is where we have a hard time.”