Ten minutes later, they entered the house where Dan was staying.
“My sleeping room is straight through that door. I have quite a bit of work to do, so that’s where I’m headed,” Dan told Short Blade. “That’s the door to your room. Be careful. Libra assassins may try to kill you to make a point, since they can’t get to me. Have a good time this evening.”
Dan closed his door and Short Blade went to his room, where he changed into a custom-made pair of blue jeans and a blue denim cowboy shirt. After struggling into a pair of black cowboy boots, he slid the switchblade into the top of the boots and tucked the little derringer into his back pocket. Dumping a few coins into one pocket and cartridges in the other, he felt ready to go. He decided to leave his duty belt with his sword and beamer pistol behind.
He thought about surprising his family but decided to call instead. “Hello, Mother. I’m hungry and wanted to know what is for midday meal?” He laughed, and his mother told him to come home immediately. The short conversation had him feeling as excited as his mother.
Walking to the main street, he started to hail a cart but then decided on a motorized transport instead. He’d been away for so long, the smell of unburnt fuels mixed with animal droppings stung his eyes.
“Driver, how much to take me to the Claw Clan district?”
“Six coins.”
“I’ll pay four only.” The driver nodded for him to get in, happy that the runt didn’t know the prices. Short Blade was happy to no longer breathe the stench from the street and wondered how long before modernization would make the foul odor a thing of the past. The streets were crowded with transports and old women selling produce in the gutter. Maimed veterans stood on street corners holding a small pouch for any donations they might receive. Most still wore tattered old uniforms to evoke sympathy.
“We are at the Claw Clan district, sir.” Short Blade absently tossed six coins to the driver and headed down a street on which every building was painted blue. This was the part of the city where the delegation from his clan’s government resided.
Three large males, none of them in military uniforms, approached Short Blade. “You there. Who are you, and what are you doing in the Claw Clan’s area?”
“I am Short Blade, of the Claw Clan. I owe you no answers beyond that.” Short Blade saw that they were positioning themselves around him. “Who among you can tell me where Colonel Blade’s residence is?”
“How do you know Colonel Blade?” The three stopped maneuvering as they waited for the answer. Short Blade noticed and decided to answer their last question.
“I am here from the Gray Panthers. Colonel Blade is my father.”
“Colonel Blade would never sire a runt,” one of the three jeered. The others laughed and Short Blade decided he was done here.
“Pass out of my way. I have no time for street trash.”
The leader of the group charged straight at Short Blade, roaring in rage at the insult. Short Blade stood as though frozen in fear. When the leader got to him, he ducked and twirled, his pointed cowboy boot connecting below the belt of his attacker. The instigator rolled up into a ball, in agony from the contact.
“I said I have no time for fun. Maybe when I leave I will have time to play.”
The remaining pair of thugs roared at the insult and the bigger of the two pulled out a baton that snapped out to a six-foot staff. Short Blade saw that the thug had no skill and relaxed himself for the attack.
The thug swung the staff sideways, ensuring a clean hit. Short Blade jumped up and kicked the staff aside, and then managed to kick his opponent in the side of his head, dropping him instantly. Short Blade picked up the staff. Swirling it menacingly above his head from one paw to the other, appreciating its workmanship, he walking toward the third attacker, who decided to make a run for a side street.
Colonel Blade was impressed with his son’s abilities against the street vermin he had paid to attack him. He had a feeling this would make for an interesting visit.
“Short Blade, come into the house and stop fighting in the street like the lower castes,” he called from the window. He could see the insult had affected his son.
Short Blade collapsed the staff and stuck it in his back pocket as he walked toward the house. “I did not see an alternative when attacked by three enemies. What is your recommendation, Father?”
Blade liked his son’s refusal to be insulted and the technique he used to turn it around.
Short Blade’s mother hugged him when he reached the front door. “My two warriors both with me again. I am so blessed. It has been so long. The midday meal is ready.” The colonel was relieved for the save and decided to change the subject.
“I heard you’re an officer in the Gray Panthers. Have you been fired?”
“I did not want to start trouble by wearing a foreign uniform here in our district, especially since the uniform is black. I am on the planet as an aide to Dan Daniels. He has not told me why. I can assume, but that would be wrong to voice.”
Blade was as amazed at his son’s diplomacy as he was that Short Blade had been made an officer. He had been wrong about his son.
“You have done much better than I had expected, Short Blade. What are your plans for the future?”
“When the war is over, I plan to purchase a small ship and become a cargo ship captain. With my knowledge of the humans and what I have learned about being an officer, I think I should do well for myself.”
Blade waited to hear more, but Short Blade picked up a piece of nearly raw meat and began to chew on it.
“You have come far from where you began, Short Blade.”
“Do you mean, Father, when you sold me to the Libra? It was very hard, but I persevered and learned. The humans saved me, and for that they have my undying loyalty.”
Blade was shocked that his son knew he had been sold and was speaking of it.
“Son, the reason—”
“Thank you, Mother. I must return to duty. I will try to write.” Short Blade ignored his father. He had long suspected that he’d been sold into slavery but had not been able to prove it. His father’s failure to deny it told him it was true. He stormed out of the house and down the street, sadness soon overwhelming his anger.
He decided he must do his best in the Gray Panthers, as he no longer had a family. He had nothing to tie him to his own home world, since he would always be seen as nothing more than a runt there.
Arizona Space Ship Beater, orbiting planet Glory
1 December 2128
Captain Johnson was suspicious of the message he had just received from Daniels. The Grub had intercepted a message that there was an unescorted convoy of ten ships waiting for escorts at planet Moise. The planet had been conquered by the Libra and now produced ships’ electronic components for them.
“Johnson to crew. We have been informed of a potential target of enemy cargo ships. We will jump in fifteen minutes to investigate. Beater, what do you know about Moise and the system it’s in?”
“The planet Moise is in a six-planet system that orbits a yellow dwarf. Two other planets in the system can support human life. The system is a four-hour hop from planet Glory, but navigation to Moise takes fourteen days because of various hazards.”
“Johnson to crew. We’re jumping now.” This should be interesting. We might be able to capture an entire fleet if we do this right, he thought.
Dixie ship Atlanta, en route to Libra
1 December 2128
Admiral Pierre Gustave Toutant-Beauregard was pacing the bridge of his flagship, the Atlanta. He couldn’t fight the anxiety he was feeling about the upcoming battle, knowing that he would soon command the largest space battle in his planet’s history.
As the admiral left the bridge and began to wander aimlessly, the ship began to feel smaller to him. The three days left seemed like an eternity.
The crew of the Atlanta was united in their desire for vengeance. The chatter that could be heard in the different parts of
the ship revealed that there was no thought of any alternative to vanquishing the enemy. Never again would aliens kidnap their people.
Arizona Space Ship Beater, in Libra space
1 December 2128
Johnson was impressed by the sheer size of the ten cargo ships on the extreme range of the sensors. They were bigger than any Earth ship and must be carrying a huge amount of cargo. He imagined converting them to warships. They had plenty of room on the hull for weapons and lots of interior space for fighters.
“Beater, what can you tell me about those cargo ships?”
“The ships are used for all forms of cargo and are restricted to sub-light speeds only. Crew size is four hundred. Average age of the ships is four hundred years. Armament is limited to a couple of light missile batteries.”
“Let’s hop to only a hundred miles. We’ll use the new Abby Artillery and see if that makes an impression on them. Lieutenant Horton, plot the hop. Commander Poland, engage when you receive the plot. This attack is artillery only.” Johnson was excited at the prospect of seeing the artillery tear apart the ships ahead of them.
“Captain Johnson, the ships are signaling their surrender.” Johnson had mixed feelings in response to Beater’s announcement.
“Order all ships to evacuate now. We will destroy them in ten minutes, whether they have crews or not.” Before he was done speaking the escape pods began to leave the ships headed for the planet.
“Okay, we gave them ten minutes. Let’s use the Abbys and see how they do.”
The cargo ships all fired hundreds of missiles at the same time.
“Damn! That was not smart of them. Jump the ship to the other side of the ships, fifty miles out. Fire everything on all targets,” Johnson ordered. “They lost their protection of a white flag when they fired those damn missiles.”
Jimmy watched his shots hit the targets but admired the total destruction resulting from the Abby Artillery.
“Cease fire,” Johnson commanded. “All we’re doing now is making holes in dead ships. Beater, any analysis of our targets before we leave?”
“The ships were empty, with the exception of the large number of missile batteries. The ships were a trap, and if we had been closer or they had used more effective munitions, the trap would have worked.”
“I guess that’s a noose we esca—” Johnson was interrupted as Beater broke in.
“Laser batteries on the planet surface have fired.”
The lights dimmed and the vents stopped blowing.
“Four patrol ships have dropped from FTL. Estimate five minutes till they are in range.”
“Beater, what damage have we sustained?” Johnson tried to keep his voice neutral. He began to sweat profusely as the report came back.
“Sir, propulsion, life support, and weapons are offline and will take eight to nine hours to repair.”
“We have FTL ability, correct?” Johnson asked expectantly.
“FTL drive is affected, but we cannot determine to what degree.”
“Jump us to the other side of the Moise Asteroid Belt.” The ship jumped immediately, as ordered. Five minutes later, the crew was on the floor puking or trying to puke.
“I don’t think we’ll try that again. How long do we have until the ship is unable to support life?” Johnson didn’t want to hear the answer.
“Ship will be able to sustain life for three more hours. Will not be able to repair impulse drive in that time.”
“Beater, find us a spot where we can hide inside the asteroid belt.”
“There is a large asteroid that would mask the Beater from any sensors. Impulse engines are offline.”
“Beater, communicate with the Abby Artillery on our hull and coordinate them to maneuver us to the asteroid.
“Commander Poland, get the marines and as many supplies as possible into the two shuttles. Be sure to include a field oxygen generator in each and as much water as possible. Have Captain Andrews get the Darts prepped. Load the flight decks with as much water as possible. Their ships should provide the oxygen they need.
“Beater, plan a course to the nearest friendly planet. Configure the Abby Artillery to carry all of the shuttles and ships, with the exception of one Abby to be left behind.”
As the Abby Artillery moved the ship through the asteroid belt, occasional hits from small asteroids could be felt.
“Captain, planet Glory is the best chance. From this side of the asteroid belt, it is slightly less than four days’ travel.”
“Send the information to the shuttles and Abby Artillery units. Ensure that it is also updated on the Darts’ mission planners.
“I want everyone off this ship in half an hour.”
Johnson left the pandemonium behind as he went to Scholl’s cabin. He found what he was looking for and quickly donned the Dart flight suit before returning to the flight deck.
“Is everybody ready? All ships have the rendezvous coordinates. Commander Poland, you will take one shuttle with Jimmy and half of the marines. Lieutenant Horton, you will take the other shuttle with Guns and the remaining marines. I will take Dart Nine and catch up with you.”
The flight deck illumination ceased and all instrumentation went black. The artificial gravity also stopped working.
“Time is up, folks. Move out, now. Commander Poland, here is the ship’s log. I will set the charges and then meet up with you. Your responsibility at this time is to get everyone home safe. Good luck.” Johnson grabbed his hand and shook it, and then was gone.
Johnson pushed himself off a wall and went floating down the hall until he finally reached the munitions locker. He was happy that the secondary mechanical lock allowed him to open the door. Inside were four explosive packs. He figured the best plan was to place them around the AI. The ship itself really had no other secrets worth protecting.
The air was beginning to taste metallic and the temperature was noticeably colder. Johnson turned in the passageway and didn’t see a floating box until it hit him in the head, knocking him out cold.
“Damn. What’s taking the captain so long?” Poland wondered out loud. He decided that he’d waited long enough and would comply with his orders rather than waste time and oxygen. “Major Rogers, please coordinate the departure of all ships with the Abby Artillery.” The Darts had a little trouble before all were magnetically locked to the artillery.
Johnson came to with a big goose egg on his forehead. Turning on his flashlight, he could see his breath. He rushed to the central communications cabin and again had to use a secondary mechanical lock to access the room. After placing the explosives, he turned on the receivers in each. All it would take was a pull of the trigger on the remote and they would go off ten minutes later, giving him just enough time to get free.
The passageway to the bay was free of debris and he made good time. Before entering the bay he began to pick up a spotty transmission from Poland.
“This is Johnson. I’m setting the explosives now and will join you soon. Johnson out.”
The monitor at the hatchway to the bay indicated that the bay was still was pressurized. Johnson opened the hatch and entered just as a small asteroid punctured the side of the Abby Artillery and set off the engine. The explosion was visible for over a thousand miles as the hull turned into deadly flack. Numerous fragments pierced the bay. Captain Johnson was knocked over as a couple metal fragments pierced his chest. He felt cold and was unable to keep his eyes open. He was once again on his old ship watching the Iranians being burned alive as his nightmare ended.
The sensors on the Major Rogers registered the explosion from inside the asteroid belt.
“The Captain managed to scuttle the ship,” Poland announced. “He should catch up any time, with only one Dart on his Abby Artillery. Set course for Glory at half impulse.” He reviewed the logistics of the trip ahead and didn’t give Johnson another thought.
Central Village, planet Glory
1 December 2128
“Good morning, Short Bla
de. I didn’t hear you return last night. I hope you enjoyed yourself, because now it’s time to get down to work. First, I want you to purchase some local clothing, so you can fit in. Then I need you to find out what the locals are thinking about war with the Libra and report back to me. See how they feel about the improvements that are coming and if they’ll support a unified military.”
“Sir, you want me to spy on my own people?” Dan saw the concern in Short Blade’s eyes and acted quickly.
“Short Blade, if I go out and ask questions, they will see a foreigner. I’m not asking for secrets. I only need to know what the locals want and need to make this work and be fair for both sides. The politicians would exaggerate what they need. You can give me a better idea of what is needed. If you feel this is wrong, you can go back to your ship and this will never be mentioned again. No punishment. No mention of it in your records.”
“I will do it, sir. The Gray Panthers are my family, and I will do what is needed. I will require many small coins, for I will speak with the beggars. They are invisible and hear everything. This is what they mean when they talk about the sacrifice of service. I will do my duty.”
As Short Blade walked into the tailor’s shop, the owner noted the little Jacka’s tailored Earth clothing and liked what he saw.
“Greetings, sir. How may I help you today?”
“I’ve been off-world for a long time and would like to dress like my own people again,” Short Blade replied.
The tailor felt the denim material and liked the toughness of the fabric, which was obviously comfortable. “Would it be trade or cash, sir?” he asked, hoping for a trade.
Short Blade remembered Guns and Jimmy helping him get the clothes and decided he couldn’t part with them. “Cash, please. My clan is the Claw. Whatever has been most purchased by them will be fine.”
“It will take a while to tailor the clothing to your, um, build, sir,” the tailor advised.
Short Blade shook a bag of coins and looked him in the eyes. “I will wait. If you are fast and do quality work, I may return with more of the material my clothes are made of and do a trade.
Gray Panthers: Dixie Page 32