Hero at Large_Second Edition

by Timothy Ellis

  "What else are you thinking about?"

  "I had to wait before firing missiles today. I was going flat out to stay ahead of them, making missile firing risky until I turned. What I could have used was another missile launcher in the tail, firing FF's straight behind me. Granted, no fighter is ever supposed to go up against twelve to one odds. But I didn't get the chance to avoid those odds today, and next time could be more of the same. I need to be firing on them even when I'm running away. I don't mind if putting a launcher in the middle of the rear pushes the two turrets higher and lower. I guess the main issue will be power."

  "I'll run some simulations and see. But it sounds doable to me. Okay. No problems, leave it with me. I'll let you know how the repairs go, probably a couple of days. I know you're good for the credits, so we'll haggle after you decide what you want to do next. Shuttle will take you back to the station as soon as you like."

  Bob headed off, while I went back up the stairs, opened my travel sleds, and made sure everything I needed for a hotel was in one of them. I sent it to the bottom of the stairs, cycled through the airlock myself, and code-locked the hatch.

  Travel sled following after me, I headed for the Shuttle bay. Once on board, I pinged the General's aide to say I was on my way, and asked if I could drop off at the hotel, or did he want me to go straight there.

  I made a reservation at the station hotel for a smaller suite than I'd had before. I pinged Amanda I was on my way to the station, and available for whoever was free for dinner. Then I took out my pad, and spent the time in flight checking mail.

  Before docking, my Bounty Hunter Guild profile had been amended to eighteen kills, and my location to 'Sydney station pending repairs'. I was going to have to stop that.

  Twenty Nine

  I was given the go ahead to drop off at the hotel before I docked, as well as instructions for a dress uniform. Something must be going on, if everyone was dressing up.

  Amanda met me at the shuttle dock. We hugged, and left immediately.

  "How was your test flight?" she asked, as we headed off towards the hotel.

  "Good. Really good in fact. She's a nice ship. Had a few little problems though, so she's getting a bit of work done. Hopefully it won't take long."

  She accepted this without further comment, so I guess she hadn't heard anything.

  At the hotel, I repeated my request for a smaller suite, checked in, and was taken to the same suite as before. I sighed as I walked in. This time, like it or not, I was paying the bill when I checked out.

  I quickly unpacked. Then took off my outer clothes, and hung them to be cleaned. I went into the bathroom, and freshened up, before changing the suit into a dress uniform. Guns back on, and I was ready to go.

  Amanda wolf whistled me as I came into the sitting room.

  "I love a man in uniform," she said with a grin.

  I waved her off, and went into the kitchen for a quick snack. And back to the bathroom for a teeth clean.

  A ping came in from the General's aide, advising me he was ready for me, so we left immediately for his office. As we arrived, we were directed to a conference room instead. We walked in to find a large gathering of people.

  On the right, standing to attention, were a dozen or so officers I'd not seen before. On the left, was the crew of Moose. Amanda joined her team. In front of me was the General, and he waved me forward until I stood before him.

  "Pilot Officer Hunter. For the outstanding work of destroying twelve pirate fighters in a single engagement, you are hereby promoted to Flight Officer. Congratulations."

  He handed me my new rank insignia, and gold coloured Ace badges. I held each of them separately as I scanned them with my PC, and added them to my suit epaulettes file. As soon as I saved the changes, the new insignia appeared on my shoulders. There was a round of applause, and I ended up shaking everyone's hands.

  "Well done Jon," said the General, after all the thankyous were done. "Intelligence suggests the main strength of the local pirate forces has now been taken out. So with luck, that will end most of the pirate attacks. You've done us a great service. We hope they'll now rethink basing themselves in the Australian sector, and will move somewhere else. Once your ship is repaired, we'll get you out patrolling. Let me know when you complete your run to Outback, and I'll send you some orders."

  With that, he left the room, quickly followed by others.

  "So, just how big of a 'bit' is this work being done to your ship?" asked Amanda.

  "A pretty big bit actually. I had to be towed in. I'll tell you about it later."

  Her look said I'd better.

  "We still need a pilot Jon," said the Colonel. "You're still our first choice."

  "Thanks Colonel. I appreciate the offer, but nothing has really changed."

  "I know," she replied. "But I had to offer it again, just in case."

  I nodded in response.

  "You pinged something about dinner?" said Amanda.

  "I did. It's on me for whoever wants to come, including the officers here today if they would like. I'm easy about where. Someone make a reservation, and ensure I get there."

  The Colonel nodded.

  "In the meantime, I need two volunteers for a dangerous mission."

  "How dangerous?" asked Aleesha.

  "Not very, I just thought it sounded better that way. I need to intimidate someone at the Bounty Hunters Guild, so some bad-arse company would be appreciated." There were grins all round at this. "Anyone want to come, follow me. I'll see the rest of you at dinner."

  I headed out, with Amanda and Aleesha behind me in triangle formation.

  We were walking past the station's food hall, and glancing in as we walked past, I did a double take, and stopped dead. Both the girls walked straight into me, and we almost fell over.

  There was a Mutant Ninja Turtle at the pizza counter.

  I gaped at it for a moment. It looked up, waved to us, and took its pizza off to a table. I grinned, and started off again.

  At the Bounty Hunters Guild, I went straight in the door without slowing down, and stopped half way to the counter, hands on both my guns. The clerk looked up.

  "Who do I see about my whereabouts being constantly updated on my profile?" I bellowed.

  The clerk fainted.

  "What did I say?" I asked generally.

  "It was how you said it," said Amanda.

  "It was how you looked as you said it," said Aleesha.

  "Huh?" I said.

  The manager came out, and stopped when he saw the clerk on the floor.

  "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

  We crossed the rest of the way to the counter.

  "The problem is my profile is being constantly updated with my movements, and I keep finding pirates waiting for me everywhere I go. Why is the guild trying to get me killed?"

  He gulped, and took a step back.

  "It is Guild policy to keep profiles as up to date as possible. The details are only for members to access. I don't understand how pirates could be accessing your profile."

  "Then you probably have at least one pirate as a member," said Aleesha.

  "Or you have a staff member or member feeding details to them," said Amanda.

  She gestured towards the still unmoving clerk.

  "I'll start an investigation immediately," said the manager.

  "It won't help me much now. I want my whereabouts excluded from my profile, permanently," I demanded.

  "The best I can do, young sir, is stop it being updated. As it'll currently show you as here, what say we leave it that way? If anyone asks why it seems to not be up to date, we'll have someone to investigate. Will this suit you?"

  "I think it will do. If you track down a link to the pirates, I want to know immediately." He nodded. "If I find out there has been a cover up, you will find out what I'm like in a bad mood. And since Colonel Smith's team was endangered along with me, I think I can find a few others, who do 'bad moods' better than I do, to
take some action."

  The manager went pale, but recovered quickly.

  "By the way, congratulations on your promotion."

  I nodded thanks.

  There was some quick action at the counter computer by the manager, and he bade me check my profile. It was now updated with my new rank, Ace badge, and a status of 'Sydney system'. I thanked him, and we left.

  "What are you like when you're in a bad mood?" asked Aleesha.

  "You don't want to find out."

  "Yes we do!" they both said together, and the three of us laughed.

  "Ok, put it this way. My last bad mood was when I jumped out of the Dropship, and blew the hatch on the attacking Gladiator. It didn't last very long, but then, neither did the person who gave it to me."

  "Ah," said Aleesha with a grin. "One day maybe we'll see if you give BA a run for her credits. Her bad moods are legendary."

  "You never did tell me what BA stood for."

  "Bad Attitude," they said together.

  That penny in the air almost dropped. There was something so familiar, but I just couldn't get it. The penny went on spinning.

  "Ah, that figures," I said with a grin. A thought popped in. "She hasn't ever had a Mohawk has she?"

  "Not that we know about, why do you ask?" responded Aleesha.

  "Just one of those odd thoughts which pop in for no apparent reason. Anyone for a spa?"

  Two grins were the answer, and we started back to the hotel.

  An hour or so soaking in the spa did me a world of good. I hadn't realized I was so tense from the day's events. We moved from the spa to the bedroom, and we each had a massage. Neither of the girls were any good at giving one, but I felt better after mine. I tried to teach them a bit more, as I massaged each of them.

  The ping from the Colonel came in as we were showering, giving a location and time for dinner. It also stated 'regimental formal' for dress code. I set my suit for my dress uniform again, and watched as the girls changed into a more formal variation of their normal slinky outfit.

  Dressed to the nines, and armed to the teeth, we left the hotel, drawing a lot of curious looks.

  Dinner was in a large room with tables at one end, and a bar at the other. About half of the Moose crew was already there, and a smattering of officers. We started mixing, and those I didn't know introduced themselves. I filed names and occupations away in my PC, but didn't remember any of them. Names were not my strong point. I relied on my PC to look people up when I needed to know who they were.

  George came in wearing a black suit, including black top hat, and tails. Aleesha gave him a wolf whistle, and several of us applauded. This caught the Colonel's attention, and he received a very dark look. George hurried out again, and came back a few minutes later in regimental formal. He hurried over to us.

  "Nice suit," said Amanda.

  "Thanks," he said. "I guess I looked out of place."

  "No more than usual," said Aleesha.

  We all grinned.

  "Where did you get the Ninja Turtle idea from?" I asked George.

  "There was a remake a few years ago, and I watched it again the other night. I was thinking over what you said, and scanned one of them. I felt like pizza today after the presentation, and put them together. Seeing the three of you doing a fall down act, was worth it!"

  He laughed. We laughed with him.

  "I've got some other good ideas, but what I really need is a challenge. What can you suggest?"

  "Jake the Peg," I said deadpan.

  "Who?" he responded.

  I looked around, and no-one seemed to know the reference.

  "You said you wanted a challenge." I laughed. "Its true blue Aussie, and that's the only hint you're getting. Excuse me a minute."

  I'd seen Bob come in, so I went over to greet him.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked him.

  "I got an invite from the General himself, couldn't turn that down. It's been a long time since I had a decent night out, so I was happy to come."

  "How far did you get with the redesign?" I asked.

  "All done, just needs a couple of days to complete. There was room on the central half deck for the rear-facing missile launcher, and a refill, once the existing turret was removed. Bit tight fitting it around the engine outputs, but it worked. Do you want the same mix of missiles in it?"

  "No, all FF's please. When I fire them, I'll be running, and all I need is some chaos behind me to slow up pursuit."

  "Will do then. By the way, there will now be three fire buttons on the top of the joystick. Left will be the forward launcher, middle will be torpedoes, and right will be the rear launcher."

  "Sounds fine to me," I agreed.

  At that moment, the General entered, and the room fell silent.

  "Thank you all for coming," he said. "It's a tradition here to hold a dinner party when one of the station's officers is promoted, and while young Jon here is not strictly a station officer, it's too good an opportunity to pass up." There was general laughter. "It's also not usual to have a mixture of service and mercenaries, but in this case, it seems appropriate, and quite novel. This is quite informal, in a formal sort of way. I'm assured the waiting staff will be around to each of you shortly for your meal choices, and dinner won't be long. Enjoy yourselves."

  There was general applause, and everyone went back to their conversations. George had joined us. He asked about the damage my ship had taken, and we talked about the new upgrades. I encouraged him to do the training for combat pilot. He already had the basics. He just needed time in a combat simulator.

  The Colonel joined us, and I suggested she get a proper simulator for Moose, so George could train while en-route to missions. She raised an eyebrow to Bob, he raised an eyebrow to me, I grinned, and he assured her it could be fitted before the current upgrade was complete the next day. She nodded. I suggested to Bob it included a full military combat package, and the best Dropship training package available. Bob went blank for a moment sending instructions.

  The waiters turned out to be military. One arrived at our group, and we made our choices. We continued to socialize until dinner arrived, and we found our names on the tables. I'd been placed to the left of the General, with the Colonel to his right.

  Main course came and went, and conversation stilled as everyone ate. In the break, waiting for desserts to arrive, I caught the Colonel's eye, and she looked over to me.

  "I've been meaning to ask you," I said. "How come all your team except for George has a first name starting in 'A'."

  She laughed.

  "Actually, we all have a first name starting with 'A'. George is actually 'Alain George Murdock'."

  The penny dropped.

  Smith, Peck, BA, Murdock, A. Finally I understood what had been nagging at me. It was a very old reference, and I hadn't watched the series since I was a kid. I grinned hugely.

  "What's so funny?" asked the Colonel.

  "Nothing. With all the A's, you don't call yourselves the 'A-Team' do you?"

  "Not specifically, no. But we are the first team for a much larger unit than you've seen so far. And technically, we are the Alpha Team."

  "Ah," I said, as if it was significant, even though it wasn't. "What's with George then?"

  "He has a French mother, and a British father. Apparently he's always hated his French name."

  We both laughed. The General turned to me.

  "Jon, where did you learn to fly like you do? I reviewed your fight, and I've never seen such tactics used before." Silence rippled out, and it seemed everyone was suddenly looking at me. "Was that something you were taught on Outback?"

  "No, not really," I said. "I went through the basic pilot courses, as well as all the ship certifications. When we decide to train for space, we get a solid grounding in everything to do with space travel, so if we do get stuck out here, we have plenty of options as far as getting work with commercial traders."

  "But that doesn't explain what you did today," stated the
Colonel.

  The General nodded, as did a fair number of others.

  "It's sort of a family thing. At least one in every generation of Hunters takes on the responsibility of Outback's trading, like my Uncle did. And in about fifty percent of generations, one of us gets drawn into some sort of war. It's less often these days than it used to be, so the percentage has been dropping. But when someone in the family chooses space, we're trained for everything. In my case, it was suggested to my parents early on, if I started getting any interest in space, I should be encouraged. I guess it showed up in my early school tests or something. Where most kids were out playing, I was building my own simulators and computers able to play the really old flat screen games of centuries ago."

  I took a long breath, but no-one spoke.

  "So you could say I started training myself in space combat from an early age. Computers and games were about the only thing I was ever really good at, and instead of trying to get my attention on to other things, my parents encouraged me. The tactics I used today came from a game first played in the late 1900's, when computers were completely new. I love the old stuff. Games, music, flat movies, the original science fiction in all its forms. I collect a lot of it, through all its remakes and technology updates, down the last six hundred odd years. All I do now is adapt ideas from wherever and whenever, to whatever situation I find myself in. So far, it's worked."

  "That's amazing!" said the General. "Perhaps for those who haven't heard of the battle today, would you care to run through the highlights?"

  I quickly gave a sum up of what had happened.

  "The extra speed I insisted on having in the new ship saved me," I finished up. "No doubt about it. But the other thing was stupidity. I'd have run their end of the fight a lot differently than they did. Anyone who studies tactics would see what they did wrong."

  There was another set of nods.

  "It's good to see you're thinking that way. Pilots who can look further than their kill count are rare."

  There was general laughter to that, and I laughed with them.

  Dessert saved me from commenting further. While everyone was having coffee, I got up. and headed over to where Alison was sitting. She rose, and we moved away from the tables.