"We have some business to discuss," he said.
"What do I owe the shipyard?"
"Oh that. No, it wasn’t about the bill. I'll send you an invoice in the morning, after we know what the cost of repairs to Gunbus will be."
"I look forward to it," I said with a shudder. He laughed.
"No, what we need to discuss is royalties and license fees, on designs. I've had enquiries about the new dropship design already. With your permission, we'll call it a Python class Dropship." I nodded. Sounded like a good name. "Since it was designed by Bob, from your requirements, fine-tuned and built by me, I propose we split the royalties, or license fees, three ways. Assuming you agree, I'm building a half dozen to put on the sales room floor, expecting a rush on them. What do you think?"
Bob Derr was the owner of Sydney Shipyard, and becoming a good friend.
Royalties would be paid each time a ship was sold, or built to order. License fees were the same amount, but paid for a license to build it yourself. The former would most likely be private or corporate buyers. The latter most likely governments, or corporates like John Slice, with their own shipyard.
"Sounds good and fair to me."
"The next license to consider is the John Wayne class Pocket Battleship. The Americans are already sniffing around for the rights to modify their Cruisers into the same configuration. Sci-Fi sector are thinking of building a few, and the British are interested as well."
"How do they all know about her so fast?"
"They asked. The Americans explicitly asked what you wanted done with John Wayne, since they've so many Actor class Cruisers. Locals saw what went in, and what came out. It had an effect in the right places here. The Brits took an interest as soon as they heard about the redesign from the Americans."
"Have I started a new arms race?" He laughed.
"No, more like catch up. There hasn’t been any decent military ship building in a long time now. All the developments in recent years have been in Privateer and Freighter designs, which is all individuals can usually afford. But as you so ably demonstrated, the old Cruisers are now so far out of step with reality, they're effectively useless. The Sci-Fi and British sectors have lost two Cruisers, six Destroyers and six Corvettes, with six more ships badly trashed, including a Battlewagon. They need replacements, and the John Wayne class can defend itself against most threats, without being the cost of a Battleship."
I nodded. This was really interesting, and it was taking my mind off my aches.
"I'll see what the market will bear," he went on, "but on a three way split again, I see us making a license fee each, of something in the vicinity of one hundred million. A ship built from scratch isn’t going to give any change from one point five billion. What do you think?"
"I'm in. I'm sure Bob will agree as well."
"I think he will too. We all contributed to it, more or less equally, so the three way split of three hundred million works for me."
"Me too."
"Bob mentioned something about you refitting a Lincoln class Corvette?"
"Unthinkable. Yes, she was going to be upgraded to as close to Gunbus as could be done, without a complete redesign. She should have the same basic armament, but not quite the speed and shielding. Why do you ask?"
"We've the Destroyers and Corvettes trashed in the battle to repair. The Brits would like them upgraded at the same time. If I knew what you did with Unthinkable, I can modify it for other classes. The Destroyers can be upgraded using the General Custer as a design guide, minus the assault features. Between the two designs, I can redo both types of ship. And any others that come along."
"I don’t have the final design, as I don’t know what Bob did while the work was being done. But I have the original design. You're welcome to it. Same deal?"
"Same deal." He grinned.
I waved to Jane, and she moved closer.
"Can you transfer the design for Unthinkable to the Chief please?"
He pulled out a portable secure storage device. I wasn’t aware anyone used them these days, but for secure files, it was a good idea. And it saved Jane having to visit the shipyard. Jane plugged into the data port. A moment later, she unplugged.
"Confirmed."
McLauchlan nodded. Jane moved a little away again.
"What about you're Drone Pocket Battleships?" he asked.
"For now, I'd rather keep them off the market. If something major occurs, and we need them produced, I'll think about it then."
"Fair enough. And the Drone Clusters?"
"Again, just for me."
"Fine. Thought of some names for the classes?"
"Actually, yes. I've had it at the back of my mind for a while now. Can you check on 'Guardian' for the Pocket Battleships, and 'Hive' for the Clusters. I think of the Clusters as a single entity now."
"Good choices. I'll let you know tomorrow if the names are available. Your ship repairs should be complete by tomorrow too. Not only Gunbus, but your six Mustangs, five Epees and twelve Clusters. And it's looking like perhaps another four new Clusters from the not so badly damaged Talons from this morning."
"Nice. Thank you. Send them over to the station as they're completed. What about the station's damage?"
"Should be completed by mid-morning. Some of the turrets need work, as well as the hull breach."
"That should work. By the time it gets back to the jump point, we should have the other side secured. By the way, how did you come up with so many Battleship turrets?"
He laughed.
"Well, several years ago the Sci-Fi Military requisitioned three new Battleships. But after the turrets were manufactured, including spares for the class, but before the hulls were laid, they were cancelled by a new government. I've been trying to offload them ever since. So you've my thanks for freeing up a great deal of storage space."
We both laughed.
George was standing close by. He took the empty glass out of my hand and replaced it with a full one. I looked at it, wondering how I'd come to have a glass in my hand at all.
George started chuckling.
"What's up chuckles?" I asked him.
"That’s your third drink Jon."
McLauchlan cracked up. So did George. I joined in, with slightly more than a chuckle, which was all I could manage without more pain. Alison stared at us with the look which said 'What are you laughing for?'
"Alison, the way I feel, if I don’t laugh, I'll cry."
She nodded. I think she felt the same, but laughing still hurt her too much. On the outside, we probably had the same sort of bruises. But internally, she'd taken damage as well. Hers wasn’t just the hurt of a bruise. By rights, she should still be in a hospital bed.
"Can I have everyone's attention please?"
Silence rippled around the room. At one end, I saw Vonda with the Prime Minister I'd met when I first arrived. They were on a raised podium with several other people. Prime Minister Vantigo, if I remembered her name correctly, stepped up to the vid position. Her image appeared on screens around the room.
"Thank you all for coming this evening. We're here to celebrate our deliverance from an invader. We celebrate the safe defense of this system, this planet, and our Orbital facilities. Please raise your glasses."
Everyone in the room raised a glass of some sort.
"The victorious dead."
"The victorious dead," everyone repeated, and drank.
"We thank the military personnel who pulled out such a magnificent victory this morning, from what looked like certain defeat. The enemy threw twice the force we expected at us, and our defenses held. They threw a second force at us, and through the courage and brilliance of one man, our defenses held again. The last enemy force was soundly thrashed by his new fleet. I give you, Admiral Jonathon Hunter."
The room went crazy, and many heads turned in my direction. I let it wash over me without really feeling anything. I was numb, I suddenly realized. Well, not completely numb. I ached in a lot of places, ma
inly down my left side. But emotionally, nothing.
The Prime Minister looked at me, with a gesture to join her on the podium. I shook my head, gently and sadly.
My gaze was drawn to an older man to the edge of my sightline, as I looked at the podium area. He was leaning on an antique walking stick, and staring at me. We made eye contact for a moment, before he looked away. I shivered.
Vonda stepped up to the vid position.
"Admiral Hunter won't be saying a few words. For those who aren't aware, he was the target of an assassination attempt this evening." Shock rippled through the crowd. "On his behalf, I thank you for the sentiments expressed here tonight, but he would remind you that without the full support of everyone here, the victory would not have been ours. This was a team effort. The military did the hard work, but the Shipyards and munitions factories gave us what we needed to do the job. Every single person here contributed in some way. You should all be congratulated."
The room cheered and clapped. The party went back into full swing. George took my empty glass again, and swapped it for a full one. People started introducing themselves and offering personal thanks. I shook hands, listened to words I didn't hear, and let Jane move them on as fast as decorum would allow.
"So you’re the one," said a voice.
I looked up, into the face of the old man who'd been staring at me. Something made me stand up and face him properly.
"Have we met?" I asked him, pretty sure we hadn't.
"No, we've not met. But I know you. You’re the one who killed my older sons, put my granddaughter in prison, and today killed my younger son. Now it's your turn."
He placed the end of his walking stick exactly where the Meson Blaster had hit me earlier, and pulled a semi-hidden trigger.
Nine
I woke up in a hospital bed. I was still fully suited. I tried to sit up, but agony prevented movement. My medical monitor showed a large area of red on my left side.
"Don’t move," said a voice. "You've been shot with a projectile weapon. It didn’t pierce your suit, but it's probably left a major bruise, where you apparently already had a bruise forming. We need to check for broken ribs, and we haven't been able to treat it, as your suit is locked. Can you release it please?"
I shifted it back into a belt.
A doctor came into view, with several nurses. She made an examination of all my bruises, then my ribs, and gave me a shot for the pain. The agony subsided to a major ache. Where the Meson Blaster had hit me, was a deep blue-purple colour.
"I'm going to give you something to make you sleep. In the morning, we'll see if you need additional treatment. I doubt it though. There are no bones broken, and as it's mainly bruising, it just needs time to heal. You should know, your heart stopped for about twenty seconds after the impact, but your medical monitor restarted it. There don't seem to be any residual effects, but I recommend a complete checkup at a medical facility after the bruises fade."
I nodded, and ….
I woke some time later, feeling a bit better.
"How do you feel Jon?" asked Alison.
I turned my head to look at her. Amanda and Aleesha were sitting with her. They looked like they'd been up all night. A quick check of the time told me they had been. I'd slept for nearly eight hours.
BA was standing in the doorway, hands on guns, ready to kill anyone who looked at her wrong. Or so it seemed from her stance.
"I'm not sure."
I slowly sat up in bed. Amanda jumped up, and jammed some pillows in behind me. It hadn't hurt. There was just the ache now.
"Better I think," I said. "The agony I felt when I first woke up is gone. Just the ache remains. What happened?"
"That old codger shot you with a hidden projectile gun," said Amanda. "You went down hard, and for a moment we all thought you were dead. But your suit was intact. The bullet didn’t penetrate. It actually bounced off your suit back into the barrel of the gun, and severely hurt the old man's hand. The walking stick the gun was hidden inside, disintegrated. As bullets go, it was a very large one. Without the suit, the resulting wound would have had you bleeding out too fast to get you help in time."
I checked my suit. It was down to eleven percent integrity. And it wasn’t recovering. I’d need a new one by the look of it.
"What happened to him?"
"I killed him," came from the doorway.
"BA practically tore his head off," said Aleesha. "He was dead before he hit the floor. Nose driven up into his brain."
I shivered. That was too much information the way I felt.
"He must have known it was a suicide mission," said Alison. "There was no way to escape. Not with all of us around you."
"I don’t think he cared anymore," I said.
"Who was he?" asked Amanda.
"Santiago Senior, at a guess," I answered. "The father of the pirate who almost killed us all."
"We think so," said a new voice, from just beyond BA. "Lance Freelander, Station Security Chief. Admiral Hunter, will you allow me to enter please?"
"Let him in BA."
"Thank you." He walked up to the bed. "Firstly, my apologies for my failure. It never occurred to me that anyone still used projectile weapons. The scans missed the walking stick. Second, my continued apologies for not having a security escort when you left your ship. I'd been informed of the previous attempts on your life, but we'd no warning of any likelihood of an attempt here. I should've considered it anyway. Third, we're still tracking down your assassins, but Santiago Senior is the most likely suspect. The ID on the corpse is obviously false. According to records, Santiago vanished from the Australian sector months ago."
He must have left before I left Outback, and not returned.
"You should be happy to know, as of a few hours ago, you no longer have a bounty on your head. It appears the Bounty Hunters Guild has been informed that none of the previous bounties can now be paid. I think you can assume that the Santiago family won't be causing you any more trouble."
I sighed. I'd never wanted the trouble. Given the choice, I'd have been home begging to be allowed to fly once in a while. The arrogance of stupid people never ceased to amaze me. If they'd only left me alone, I'd have settled down on Outback Orbital after the first attack, and would still be there, immersed somehow in the family business.
"You can keep the guns you took from the first assassins. I had them adjudicated to you." I nodded. "The recordings of the first assassination attempt vanished. So there's no official record of you taking any illegal action. Not that we were going to follow that up anyway. Your actions shocked a few people on the oversight committee, but I showed them the vid of you being attacked by that Mercenary team, and they took my point. Your shooting put a damper on the celebration by the way. It didn’t last very long after that. There's been a press release saying you were not badly injured, and should be released from hospital tomorrow."
"Thanks," I said.
He left, promising to have a subtle security presence around me, until I was back on my ship.
The girls hugged me gently, and resumed their seats.
"Did you get any sleep last night?" I asked.
"Some," replied Amanda. "We took turns on the door, while Alison held your hand."
"I did not!"
We all laughed. Alison and I both regretted it.
I accessed the station system for the local 'tool man', and ordered a new suit belt, with three boosters. I was promised almost immediate delivery. I removed my existing belt.
"What's up with your belt?" asked Aleesha.
"Almost dead," I said. "Eleven percent, and not regenerating."
"Ouch," said the twins together.
"Don’t remind me."
I lay there against the pillows for a while, in silence, eyes closed. I did the release for Santiago Senior, and coughed myself into a higher state of pain for the next ten minutes. A nurse came in, saw my face, and gave me another pain killer.
The girls watched me the wh
ole time, but said nothing.
The local 'tool man' turned up himself, carrying more than the expected four packages. He unpacked my new belt, but paused before he handed it to me.
"Admiral," he began. "Those of us who live and work on this station owe you a great deal. But for you, we would all likely be dead now, or marooned dirtside with no livelihoods." He held up the belt. "This is something I've been tinkering with for a long time. One of the big drawbacks of the standard suit is it can't handle the momentum of a hit. The hit itself is what it's designed to deal with, but people often suffer injuries from the landing after the hit, as well as the bruising of the hit itself. I understand one of your hits yesterday threw you across your cargo bay?" I nodded. "I've been working on this problem. I've solved one of the issues, but the new suit has not yet been released for sale, as I wish to solve both first."
"Which one did you solve?"
"The momentum issue. This suit will take a hit from a Meson Blaster, and the momentum is shifted down the suit into the deck. At most, you get lifted off the ground a little, sort of a hop. You stay upright. You stay in control. It gives you the ability to return fire immediately."
He grinned, and I couldn’t help joining him, although the skin tightening it caused, hurt. He attached the three boosters to the suit, and handed it to me. I looped it around me and connected the buckle. A software upgrade box popped up. I accepted it, and waited while it completed. I shifted into 'slinky red'. On a whim, I went into the suit files, and changed my Hunter insignia. I chose the Sci-Fi Rear Admiral stripes, and put two General's stars on top. I activated the change.
"I like your uniform Admiral," the 'tool man' said.
"Thanks. What's in the other box?"
It was a much larger box. He opened it, and pulled out a gun.
"The 'Long Gun'," he said. "This is something new. I recently was asked to supply a cross between a rifle and a handgun. The need was for something easily carried, but much more accurate over longer distances. I found this from an obscure gun maker very few people know about."
He passed it over. The girls crowded around to look at it. It was finely balanced, and easy to sight in. The holster for it appeared on the suit as it touched my hand.
Make or Break the Hero (The Hunter Legacy Book 4) Page 6