Shepherd's Crook: Omegaverse: Volume 2

by G. R. Cooper

  “Gotcha, Shannon, but keep an eye out on that hilltop. I don’t want anything sneaking up on us from outside,” said Matt as Duncan joined the other three below the airlock.

  Duncan looked around; if you didn’t count the spartan shell that was the Canis Arcturus space station, this was his first time in an alien civilization’s building.

  Chapter 2

  Pune, Maharashtra India

  Phani Mutha pushed the mouse resting on the card table he used as a desk, looking through the bare room that was, apparently, the only room in the Canis Arcturus space station. He moved to the plinth in the center of the room and focused on the screen it held; a marketplace interface for trade goods, with prices displayed for either purchase or sale by the Werewolves.

  He began by selling off the entire cargo load of the Shepherd Moon, the ship he’d piloted to this remote and dangerous corner of the galaxy. Then, taking the listings for the two closest space stations, what Taipan had called the ‘American’ and ‘Indian’ stations, he found resources that sold here in Eta Bootis for much less than either of those stations; noting which player station would pay more as he bought each resource.

  Almost always, the American station paid a percent or two more while the Indian station sold for a percent or two less. Taipan had, incorrectly Phani thought, referred to this as a ‘triangle trade’; buying in India to sell in Eta Bootis, then buying in Eta Bootis to sell in America. A triangle, he mused, needed a third leg - a route from the American to the Indian station - there just wasn’t enough profit in the run, however, to justify it.

  Whatever he called it, Taipan’s wealth was growing quickly. Phani almost regretted that the entire hold of the Shepherd Moon was dedicated to Taipan’s trades while on these runs, and that, due to treaty, that ship was the only one allowed in this system.

  Phani couldn’t even buy his own ship to take advantage; but he knew he was still very fortunate in this business agreement. He had free use of the ship after he had made his daily run ferrying trade goods collected from Taipan’s space station; resources that were purchased and shipped by cargo container from the Indian station. Phani would return this purchase from Eta Bootis to the station, and Taipan would then ship it off to the American station for sale.

  Phani then noticed that the sales list was categorized; the default category listed mineral resources, but a secondary page showed objects for sale. Blueprints. He clicked through and scanned down the list.

  “This must be loot that the werewolves got from their raids into human territory,” he muttered to himself, in awe at the length and variety of the listing. Weapons. Armor. Sensors. Ship parts. He clicked through to another tab; certificates. There were dozens of listings for incremental upgrades in player skills. Piloting. Sniping. Mining. Heavy Armor.

  The variety looked impressive, but most looked, Phani thought, to be fairly common; though if he could get them for less than retail cost, he could still make money selling them in volume. What really attracted his attention, though, and what really got him excited, were some high level advancements. They were fairly rare and sure to be in high demand.

  He needed to learn much more, though, about the market for such goods before investing. He also needed to know how Taipan wanted to handle this aspect of the market. No mention had been made in their agreement; informal as it was, he didn’t feel he should take advantage of it before bringing it to his partner’s attention.

  He began to think through a proposal. Phani would take the risk of purchasing these items; as they took no cargo weight or space, their addition to his daily runs wouldn’t impact Taipan’s trades in any way. Taipan would be provided a right of first refusal on these items, which Phani would sell to Taipan at cost. Any other items, Phani would sell on the open market. He would leave it up to the American to decide what percentage of any profits he felt was his due.

  Phani sat back and took a sip of his warming beer, the condensation on the bottle puddling above his fingers. It felt unbelievably good to have a few months living expenses in the bank and to know that would be the case for at least the next year, roughly. He opened a box of new, fresh, cigarettes, put one between his lips. He reached for the bright yellow plastic lighter, sitting shining next to his keyboard, and lit the cigarette. Pulling the smoke deeply into his lungs, he ran his other hand over his forehead. The cold condensed water, still on his fingers from the beer bottle, cooled his brow.

  Phani finished making purchases of minerals for Taipan and returned to the bridge of the Shepherd Moon. He was still overwhelmed every time he entered. The size dwarfed the default mining ships he’d be allowed to use through the mission control; and not only the size, but the details were noticeably different, noticeably better.

  There were more colors around the bridge; it was carpeted in a soothing green where the mining ships looked like bare, off-white plastic. The consoles looked better, brighter somehow. There was no reason for it, that Phani could see, that improved aesthetics would matter.

  Maybe, he thought, it wasn’t to make the owners of the expensive ships feel better about themselves, it was to make the users of the generic ships desire the more expensive option. He shrugged.

  In any case, he thought, he shouldn’t, luck willing, ever have to see the inside of the generic ship again. He brought up the nav map, selected a jump point from his saved selections; the jump point near his space station. He paused, realizing he’d thought of it as ‘his’ space station. It wasn’t, but in a way it was. If he didn’t own it, he at least had full use of it. The only other person besides Taipan to do so. He understood the American’s desire to keep the station secret, and he agreed with it.

  He began accelerating the Shepherd Moon; this far outside of a planetary gravity well, he’d be able to jump as soon as he reached the minimum percent of light speed, C, required to jump to hyperspace. As the ship started moving, Phani brought up a message screen and began writing his business proposal to Taipan. After typing a few lines, he checked the ship’s speed, then pressed the keyboard combination that jumped the ship into hyperspace. He returned to typing during the short trip back to the station.

  He closed the message window, saving the draft message, as the Shepherd Moon came out of hyperspace, near and above the ring around a blue gas giant. Near the planet’s shepherd moon that helped that ring form and stay well defined. He brought up another message, containing Taipan’s instructions for returning to the space station.

  First, he was to jump into system well away from the station. He’d forgotten that. Angry with himself, he read the reasoning behind it. The American had pointed out that the treaty with the Canis Arcturus forbade using a cloaking device in their system, so in order to arrive cloaked at a jump point near the space station, he would have to jump into an outer part of the system, engage the cloak, then jump to the station. After he engaged the ship’s cloak, he began writing a checklist on an old, mildewed notepad next to his computer, determined never to betray Taipan’s trust again.

  Second, he called up the station control and had it report all traffic that had entered but not left the system for the last several hours. There was none. He engaged the engines, full speed, and the ship began moving toward a waypoint he’d lain on the rear of the station; at the hangar door on the opposite site of the system jump point. While the ship travelled, he continued writing, then proofreading, his business proposal. As he reached the waypoint, in the crater of the moon, he sent the proposal then had the station control again report on any new contacts. There were none.

  He then sent the request to the station control to open the hangar door. The station responded by sending him a prompt to enter a code. A code that Taipan provided Phani. It didn’t make any sense to him, he assumed it was some sort of gibberish, but he typed it in exactly as he’d copied it onto his notepad:

  “It’s an older code, sir. But it checks out.”

  Chapter 3

  Duncan looked to his three friends, crammed into a small room belo
w the airlock entrance of the Arn outpost; the enclave an excursion, an invasion of human space. An invasion that he and his friends were trying to end. Matt opened the visor on his helmet; now that they were inside, they could take advantage of the breathable air that the Arn had provided. Duncan and the two others followed suit. Duncan noticed that the ambient noises, no longer muted by the isolation provided by the helmet, were louder, clearer.

  Matt held his left index finger in front of his mouth.“Shh. Be vewy vewy quiet. I’m hunting Awn,” he whispered.

  Vince then let out a little laugh, a very creditable imitation of Elmer Fudd’s.

  Duncan shouldered his plasma rifle, drew the m1911 .45 caliber pistol instead. His friends did likewise.

  “Good idea,” said Clancey. “In these tight spaces, a pistol will be easier to use.” The room was not much more than a cube, two meters on each side, with the ladder dropping into the middle and a door to one side.

  “Shall we?” asked Vince, his hand on the door.

  “We shall,” said Matt, raising his pistol toward the door.

  Vince pushed the door, ducked and ran through, followed closely by Matt and then Clancey. Duncan moved into the doorway when all hell broke loose. Laser fire erupted from the other end of a long, high room; built almost to human scale, but with Arn sized furnishings. As Duncan fell back into the entrance room, he saw his three friends diving for cover behind what looked like child sized desks.

  “Hold up,” said Shannon, “I’ve got some shields to recharge. Duncan, drop some smoke, s’il vous plait.”

  Duncan saw that all three had taken multiple hits, their shields dropping dangerously low, as he opened his bag and took out a Snell grenade.

  “Last one,” he shouted as he threw it out, aiming for the area to his friend’s right, to try to get it between them and the murderously accurate laser fire.

  “Thank you, sir,” said Shannon, “I’ll have them repaired in a jiffy.”

  “Who even says jiffy?” laughed Clancey.

  “The goddess saving your scrawny ass. Five more seconds and y’all will be good as new.”

  “Reverting to plan ‘A’,” said Duncan, re-holstering the pistol and pulling out his plasma rifle. “Cover me.”

  The other three rose enough from behind their desks to begin, as quickly as they could pull the trigger, sending .45 bullets downrange, through the protective laser diffusing smokescreen.

  Duncan ran out of the room, crossing in front of his friends, and ran to the other side of the room where he’d spotted a small alcove. He reached it after taking a glancing hit; whether from the Arn lasers or human bullets, he didn’t know. His shield dropped ten percent, then he was back under cover. He waited while his friends reloaded, then, when they started taking more deliberate, aimed, shots, he raised his plasma rifle to his shoulder and peeked out around the cover of the alcove. As he leaned further out, sweeping to his left, his gun sight swept across the first of the Arn ambushers; he put a blast into its head and it dropped from view.

  After a second, Vince stood, pointing his pistol, held with both hands, toward the other side of the room.

  “It looks like we’re clear,” he said after a second. Matt and Clancey both stood as well, and began to advance.

  “Really?” asked Duncan. “There was only one of them?”

  “Nope,” said Clancey. “They realized that you had a good position on them, and they fell back.”

  “Doesn’t that seem kind of smart for a video game?” Duncan asked.

  “It does,” said Matt, “and it is. That’s why we like fighting the Arn. They’re smart.”

  Duncan noticed that his shield had been recharged. “Thanks Shannon.”

  “If you’re going to thank me everytime I save your ass, you’re going to be too busy to do anything else. But you’re welcome.”

  Clancey was kneeling, facing toward the way that they’d come. He began talking, no doubt for Duncan’s benefit. “I’m setting a little surprise for any Arn that decide they want to try to flank us through some hidden passageway or even by going outside and running around to come in behind us through the airlock. It’s a little omnidirectional ‘claymore’ mine. Any movement in this room will set it off and the entire room will be blasted with little pellets that’ll rip through just about anything.”

  “Are there any other exits or entrances to this base?” asked Duncan, sweeping around the room which looked like an office space, more or less square with desks and chairs spread throughout. Other than the way they’d come in, there was only one door out; the door that the ambushing Arn had escaped through.

  “You know as much as I do,” continued Clancey.

  “But they are some sneaky little bastards,” added Matt.

  “I’ve still got an eye on the entrance you guys went through,” said Shannon, “and I’ll let you know if anything tries to come that way.”

  “Why can’t you just nuke them from orbit?” laughed Duncan.

  “Because you spent all of your money on a clipper, and not a battle cruiser. You buy us one of those and I’ll be able to drop some true nightmares on the bad guys,” said Shannon.

  “Really?”

  “Really,” she answered. “Of course, they’re probably a few times as expensive as your stupidly expensive ship. Start saving your pennies.”

  Fifty million credits or so, Duncan thought.

  “Maybe for Christmas,” he replied. Maybe someday, he thought.

  “See anything?” asked Matt.

  “No.”

  “Nope.”

  “Me neither,” said Duncan. They were arrayed in a semi-circle just outside the door that the Arn had used to evacuate, looking through into the next room.

  “Looks clear,” said Matt. He began to move into the room. He paused, looked around, “Yep, it’s clear.” The other three followed him through.

  “Wait up,” said Clancy, closing the door after they were all through, “I need to activate the claymore. Remind me to deactivate it when we come back through,” he chuckled.

  “File cabinet,” said Vince, who began to move toward it. He reached it, opened it, and began rooting through it. “Got some skill certificates. Nothing fancy.” He leafed through them, putting them into his backpack. “Hey, here’s one, Duncan. Pilot II. Do you have that?”

  “Nope.”

  “Cool, here,” he said, handing it to Duncan. “That should increase your piloting skill.”

  “What’ll that do?” he asked. “And, thanks.”

  “Improve your jump accuracy. Increase fuel efficiency,” said Clancey. “Just by a percent or so, but they add up once you really pile on the certs.”

  “Talk later,” said Matt, “kill stuff now.”

  They spread out, moving through the room. It was of a shape and size with the previous, but more sparsely furnished. They moved toward the door on the opposite side of the room, when Shannon came over the radio.

  “I think you guys can calm down. An Arn shuttle just took off from near you guys. It looks like they ran away.”

  “Then why,” said Matt, “haven’t we received a ‘mission over’ message?”

  The complex shook, rattled, from an explosion. From the room they’d just vacated. Dust flew from around the edges of the door they’d just shut. Clancey’s claymore had taken out the rearguard’s attempted flanking maneuver.

  Chapter 4

  Birmingham, West Midlands UK

  Eric West tapped nervously on his chair’s armrest. He looked from the monitor displaying his tactical map to the top, center monitor in his array of six. That monitor showed the forward, bridge, view of his Delta class destroyer; the HMS Westy. He saw his crewman, Jordi, bent over his station. Jordi handled sensors on the Westy.

  “Ready?” asked Eric.

  “Almost,” said Jordi, “just a few more seconds.” He continued working, then, “Ready.”

  “Cool,” said Eric, standing, “launch it!”

  “Right-o,” laughed Jordi. E
ric saw him reach to his station screen, press a button. Eric looked to the upper right monitor, which he’d configured to show the view forward from turret one, showing the first third of his ship from deck level. It suddenly lit up in a strobe of flashing, yellow lights, accompanied by a staccato thumping that pulsed through Eric’s computer room.

  This was the first time that Eric had used the ‘hedgehog’, the system that launched a series of passive sensors that spread in a pattern defined by the sensor operator.

  Jordi, as Eric had instructed, had created a spherical area bounding a stranded cargo ship. The sensors accelerated, much more quickly than his ship could, until they’d spread into a net that would entrap, and allow Eric to track down and kill, the now hapless pirate that had attacked the automated ship.

  Eric had purchased the system the evening before, putting it on his now nearly full credit card. It was more than he wanted to, or really should have, paid, but he could probably push off a few bills for a month or two. Besides, he justified, laying a pattern of passive buoys by dropping each directly off his ship, one at a time, was probably the reason he had yet to make a kill; so all of the money he’d already spent was wasted without this system.

  He moved to the tactical map.

  “Number One, overlay the hedgehog sensor with the tactical map.” A translucent sphere appeared around, centered upon, the cargo ship. Dark blue dots, plotting the spread of passive sensor buoys, shifted to a lighter, higher, intensity as the buoys arrived in place. He shifted the tactical map so that it also centered on the sphere, and watched as the icon representing the Westy moved toward it.

  “Number One, are any of the crew online?”