“Are you making the necessary changes to the Trinity’s missile tubes to accommodate the hypermissiles?” Kurt was keenly interested, as the hypermissiles would be a great asset to the fleet.
“Yes,” Colonel Hayworth replied. “The hypermissiles are smaller than our missiles, and it’s not that big of a modification to redesign the tubes for them.”
Kurt nodded, as a number of workers maneuvered large crates through one of the ship’s cargo hatches. Raw materials were brought up from Newton and then used in the manufacturing facility they had brought from Earth to produce the hull armor and other essential parts for the Trinity.
“Do we have everything we need to convert the exploration cruisers to warships?” Kurt asked. He knew they had brought a lot of weapons material from Earth and that some could be made in the shipyard construction facilities.
“We can convert three without a problem,” replied Captain Simms. His face took on a frown, and then he continued. “However, the last two will take longer, as we’ll need to build some of the more intricate parts for their larger particle beam cannons. We can do one cruiser every six or seven weeks, depending on any bottlenecks we might encounter.”
“We had to spend a full day just removing a quarantine containment facility from the Trinity,” Hayworth said, shaking his head in exasperation. “Why they thought they might need something with two-foot titanium walls is beyond me. Just what were they planning on putting in there?”
“They’re scientists and explorers,” commented Simms. “Maybe they thought they could bring back a dinosaur.”
“I understand the problems,” Kurt responded. He was surprised they could convert three of them so quickly. Three more battlecruisers, all armed with particle beam cannons, would greatly enhance his fleet.
“What about the crews?” asked Colonel Hayworth. “The personnel on the exploration ships are good, but they’re not trained for combat. Captain Anniston mentioned that to me the other day. We have a few on the station who were on leave from some of the ships destroyed in Earth orbit, though most were down on Earth with their families,”
“A few more came with the refugees,” added Captain Simms.
“I think I can find the necessary crew personnel we’ll need,” Kurt answered. He knew Captain Cheryl Anniston, and she was a strong-minded captain. He was fully confident she could command the Trinity, if he could find a few key people to assist her in combat operations.
“The two shuttles are nearly complete,” Captain Simms added, as he led Kurt toward the station’s large repair bay.
“We’ve done everything we can to make them undetectable to Profiteer or Dacroni scans,” Colonel Hayworth commented. “If they can make it to Earth, they should be able to land safely.”
“How many passengers can each accommodate?”
“Twenty,” Hayworth answered. “That’s in addition to the five-person crew, plus a six-person security team on each shuttle.”
“I wish we could have used larger shuttles,” Kurt said, as they entered the repair bay where the two shuttles were. They had been painted black, and all insignias removed. The shuttles vaguely resembled the old space shuttles but with cleaner lines and a slimmer look.
“We can have two more shuttles ready within the week,” suggested Colonel Hayworth. “I spoke to Captain Watkins, and he says he can accommodate two more, if he crowds his flight bay.”
“Henry would say that,” replied Kurt. “I’ll contact him and suggest he leave ten of his Lance fighters behind. “So far we’ve seen no indication the Profiteers or the Dacroni use any type of fighters or bombers, other than their ships’ shuttles.”
“That would make room for four shuttles,” stated Hayworth, looking inquiringly at Kurt.
“Go ahead and do the other two shuttles,” Kurt ordered after a moment of thought. “We need to bring back as many crewmembers and potential crewmembers as we can on this first trip, particularly since we’re converting the exploration cruisers to warships.”
“We’ll get it done,” promised Colonel Hayworth.
“How is the arming of the station going?” Kurt looked over at Captain Simms, waiting for his response.
“Slowly,” confessed Simms dolefully. “We’re working around the construction we’re doing, including the new flight bay. So far we’ve installed two particle beam cannons and six laser turrets. We’ve also managed to put in place about 40 percent of the energy shield emitters.”
Kurt turned toward the two commanding officers. “Don’t bother with the missile tubes for now. Concentrate on the laser turrets and the particle beam cannons. We could be looking at a possible Profiteer attack in the next few weeks.”
The two men’s faces paled upon hearing that announcement.
“We’ll do everything we can,” promised Colonel Hayworth. “Give us two weeks, and I can have at least six more of the laser turrets done and another particle beam cannon.”
“What about the energy shield?” Kurt knew the shield was essential for the survival of the station.
Hayworth let out a deep breath of resignation. “That’ll be a problem. The energy shield is set to extend one hundred meters from the hull. At the moment, the new flight bay is in the way. Once we have the outer hull armor in place, we can install the emitters, but not before.”
Kurt nodded, knowing they were talking about an engineering problem. “See what you can come up with. I would hate to see the Profiteers plant a hypermissile in the station.”
The two men shared a worried look and nodded their understanding. “I’ll convene a meeting of our station engineering staff and see if they can come up with a solution,” Hayworth said.
“We have some very smart and resourceful engineers,” added Simms. “They’ll figure something out.”
“Very well,” Kurt answered. “The mission to Earth will be launched as soon as you have the next two shuttles finished.”
“We’ll have them ready as soon as possible, Admiral,” promised Captain Simms.
-
Fleet Admiral Kurt Vickers stepped inside the Command Center of the Star Cross. Part of the crew was on leave, with Rear Admiral Wilson and the Kepler responsible for the fleet and the defense of Newton, until Kurt said otherwise. He had spent a busy couple days visiting with his sister, meeting with Governor Spalding, General Mclusky, Colonel Hayworth, and Captain Simms. Kurt was satisfied that everything possible was being done to get Newton ready for a potential attack.
“Status?” he asked, looking over at Lieutenant Evelyn Mays, who had been responsible for the ship while he and Captain Randson had been down on Newton. Andrew was busy looking for a place for his wife and daughter and hoped to find a home close to Kurt’s sister.
“The destroyers Starburst and Kline are currently emplacing the hyperspace detection buoys,” the tactical officer replied, as she stood up and vacated the command chair. “They should be finished sometime tomorrow with the first set.”
Kurt nodded and sat down in the command chair. The two destroyers were placing eight of the expensive buoys in open space far outside the Newton System. Each buoy could detect a ship in hyperspace for a distance of five light-years. Even then that would only give them about a ten- to fifteen-minute warning before a ship could reach Newton. It would be just enough time to bring the fleet to Condition One and prepare for an attack.
Looking at the one of the main viewscreens, he could see the heavy battlecarrier Kepler. Even as he watched, four small Lance fighters launched from one of the ship’s two flight bays and moved to take over the CSP for the four fighters inbound from their patrol.
“Everything’s been quiet, sir,” Lieutenant Mays reported. She then walked over to her tactical station and sat down.
“Sir, I have Captain Watkins on the comm,” reported Ensign Pierce.
Kurt pressed the receive button on the comm station on his command console. “How are things, Henry?”
“About as expected,” Captain Watkins replied. “I understand y
ou had an interesting time on Kubitz. Sometime you’ll have to tell me all about it. Sorry to hear about Private Dulcet and the Lansing.”
“We haven’t given up on Dulcet yet,” replied Kurt. “We’re still hoping we can work out something for her safe return.” Kurt knew in his heart that wasn’t likely. From what Grantz and Dolman had indicated, she was most likely dead. It greatly upset Kurt to know that she had probably been tortured. Grantz had indicated that was one of the methods the Dacroni used to extract information from captives.
“I was glad to hear that Captain Randson found his wife and daughter. I know it was a big relief to him. So, when do I set out for Earth?”
“Sometime in the next seven days,” Kurt answered. “I’m having Colonel Hayworth convert two more shuttles to be used in ferrying passengers from Earth to the Newton Princess.”
“That’ll crowd my flight bay,” said Henry, sounding concerned. “But I think we can manage.”
“Leave a squadron of your Lance fighters at Newton Station,” suggested Kurt. “I don’t think you’ll need them, and that will free up the necessary space in your flight bay.”
Henry was silent for a long moment before replying. “I hate leaving the fighters behind, but it would solve the space problem. Who are you sending to contact President Mayfield?”
Kurt looked where Captain Randson normally sat. Kurt knew that Andrew was the only one he would trust with the job and who was familiar with what they had learned on Kubitz—information that might prove useful to President Mayfield and the North American Union.
“Captain Randson,” Kurt answered. “On a light cruiser. Once he’s contacted the president, he’ll be returning immediately.”
“We’ll get it done,” promised Henry in a solemn voice. “I know how important these trained crew personnel will be.”
Kurt let out a deep breath. Shifting his gaze to the other viewscreens, he could see Newton, Newton Station, and the stars. One viewscreen had a faint yellow star in its center. He knew without asking Lieutenant Mays that this was Earth’s sun. He wondered what was occurring on the home planet. No doubt that life under Profiteer rule would be harsh and uncompromising. Kurt was determined to remove that threat. And soon.
Chapter Sixteen
On Kubitz, Grantz walked down one of the busy streets under the central city dome, in one of the more profitable districts, lined with pleasure houses and brothels. His pockets were full of credits, and he had a big satisfied grin on his face. The deal he had worked out with the humans was highly profitable, and his quarters at the compound were more than satisfactory. He had just finished eating and had gorged himself on his favorite foods, foods he normally stayed away from, due to their extreme price.
Sliding his right hand into his pants pocket, he felt the large wad of credits tucked safely inside. The street he walked along was closed to vehicles and on both sides were tall brightly colored buildings with flashing lights and advertisements. Loud music could be heard coming from several establishments, and the aromas of tantalizing foods drifted in the air. Happy voices and laughter from partygoers was everywhere. The street was full of people, nearly all of them human or at least humanoid.
Tonight he was heading to the Brollen Pleasure House. One of Dolman’s contacts had casually mentioned that a human woman from Earth was working there. She was rumored to be very beautiful and in high demand. In such high demand that it had been necessary to book his appointment through the pleasure house four days in advance. Normally one could just show up and take part in any type of pleasure one might want to indulge in, and Grantz had a good imagination.
Reaching the pleasure house, Grantz looked up at the multicolored building. It advertised human women from different worlds and even a few nonhuman. Almost every type of drug or physical pleasure could be purchased for the right price. Opulent foods, drinks, entertainment, and, of course, women were available upon request. A substantial cover fee was due at the entrance just to get inside. The Brollen Pleasure House was one of the classier ones in the district and only served the best of everything.
Grantz was in no hurry, it was still a good hour before his scheduled appointment. Strolling to the entrance, he handed over a one-hundred-credit note and was allowed admittance. Several heavily armed guards were at the doors and also attendants who collected the credits. He did have to leave his pistol at the entrance and would pick it up on his way out. No weapons of any type were permitted inside the pleasure houses or the brothels.
Stepping inside, he took a deep breath and grinned as he checked everything out. Scantily clad women walked around, visiting with different patrons. The lower section entailed four levels of the pleasure house, offering eating establishments and bars with every type of alcoholic or nonalcoholic drink one could ask for. Also several groups of musicians played, and some customers were even dancing. It wasn’t unusual for a visitor to dance and talk to a number of the women before making his selection. Once made, the two would go to the upper floors to consummate their transaction.
“Ah, Grantz!” yelled a familiar voice from a nearby alcove.
Grantz turned and saw a fellow Profiteer from the planet Marsten, sitting at a private table. He motioned for Grantz to come over.
Walking to the table, Grantz took a seat and nodded at his fellow Profiteer. “Albetz, it’s been a while.”
“Nearly a year,” replied Albetz, motioning for a server to bring over two drinks. As she turned to leave, Albetz reached out and slapped her on the rear, causing her to squeal. “I love this place!”
“I thought you were settling down on Marsten,” Grantz said. At one time, Albetz had served a short stint with High Profiteer Creed.
Albetz frowned and then smiled. “I thought so too, but what can I say? I ran short of credits, and I went back to Profiteering.”
Grantz took a deep drink and allowed himself to grin. His beverage was strong, and it burned going down. Albetz’s story was quite common. It was easy to retire off a Profiteer’s earnings. The only problem being how easily it was to spend the accumulated credits from Profiteering and then finding oneself broke again.
“I understand you’re working with these Earth humans,” Albetz said in a quieter voice. “Rumor has it that they have a lot of gold.”
“It pays well,” Grantz admitted casually. “As for gold, who knows? Rumors are just that, rumors.”
“An Earth woman is supposedly working here at this pleasure house,” Albetz added, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Is that why you’re here tonight?”
Grantz became more cautious. “Who did you say you’re working for?”
“I didn’t,” answered Albetz, taking a sip of his drink. “As one Profiteer to another, I would watch my back. I think they’re observing this woman very closely.” With that Albetz laid enough credits on the table to pay for the drinks and stood up. “I’ll be on my way. Perhaps someday we can work together again.” Albetz walked off and entered one of the noisier bars, where loud music played.
Leaning back, Grantz slowly sipped his drink, wondering just what he had gotten himself into. It bothered him to be sitting at a table unarmed, if trouble was brewing.
Finishing off his drink, Grantz stood up and spent the next half hour wandering around the lower levels. He was careful to mix in with large groups of people and kept a wary eye out to see if he was being followed. If this human was Private Dulcet, and if he could bring her back to the human compound, he could net himself a nice bonus. He hadn’t mentioned to Lieutenant Tenner where he was going, as the lieutenant might have sent some of the compound’s human Marines to attempt to rescue Private Dulcet. That would have been a disaster and would have brought the Enforcers down on the embassy compound. Grantz liked his job too much to risk that.
Nearly time for his appointment, he climbed the wide stairs to the fifth floor where several attendants waited. He presented his confirmation pass for his appointment and was allowed to proceed. He felt a cold chill run down his back, knowing just how
defenseless he was. Even a knife in his possession now would feel comforting.
Grantz took a high-speed turbolift to one of the midrange floors and exited, walking down a short well-lit hallway, lined with different colored doors. Thick, soft carpet covered the floor, which absorbed the sound of his footsteps. After a moment he found himself standing before the door indicated on his confirmation card. Taking a deep breath, he knocked and then waited expectantly.
The door swung open, and a beautiful brunette stood there. She was dressed in a skimpy dark red outfit that accented her figure and left very little to the imagination.
“Hello,” she said demurely. “You must be Profiteer Grantz.”
“Yes,” Grantz replied, as he stepped into the room.
The woman closed the door and then locked it securely.
He knew that was misleading, as her handlers would have code passes to the door and could have it open in an instant, if necessary. He also strongly suspected the room was under surveillance. Looking at the young woman, Grantz instantly recognized her. This was, indeed, Private Lucy Dulcet.
Lucy walked over to a table with several bottles of colored liquid in them and proceeded to pour two drinks. Grantz noticed that she poured his drink from one bottle and hers out of a different one. No doubt his drink would be a strong alcoholic beverage and hers nonalcoholic. This was a standard trick used to get the patrons to spend more credits.
Walking over to Grantz, she handed him a drink and then, stepping back, took a small sip of hers. She smiled and posed. “Do you like what you see?”
“Yes,” Grantz admitted. “What’s your name?” He strongly suspected from her actions that she had been mind-probed and a new personality implanted. The use of a mind probe was highly illegal on Kubitz. He had also played poker with her several times on the Star Cross, and her lack of recognition seemed to confirm the use of the probe.
Lucy seemed confused for a moment and then smiled. “That’s not important.” She took another sip of her drink and then set it down on the small table. Turning back to Grantz, she reached up behind her neck and unfastened her garment, which fell to the floor.
The Star Cross Page 21