“Good morning Chief, late though it is. I wasn’t sure I’d find anyone there. I wanted to find out what was going on. I feel a bit out of touch while I’m dirstside. I’ll have to get used to that.”
Relieved to hear his Captain’s voice sounding stronger than when he limped away yesterday, he filled him in on the morning’s activities.
“Captain, me and the three Drive Rats are shifting and sorting cargo, picking out what we need to send over to the dome, and what stays here. Doctor’s Fisher, Anderfem, and Martin gave us the numbers of the packets that have the lab equipment to keep here. Chack and Ricco take over the supplies we plan to share with the Primes, and we are holding the rest for now.”
“Are any of the passengers coming back yet?”
Before the chief could answer, Jake chimed in so both could hear.
“None are crossing to the ship yet per Doctor Fisher’s request, to give the crew time to sort supplies and equipment for delivery to the dome, which requires use of the cargo ramp and haulers. She also said it was because not very many of the passengers have had the weapons training they need before they receive a gun from the armory there.”
“Ok. What else do you have for me Chief? Are the Traps still holding our two giant tacs?”
“Ms. Willfem checked them, and we still have those two monsters. She said they won’t go anywhere unless we deliberately open the Traps.” That was because after capturing one of the particles, they furnished the power the Trap field generators required to keep the fields curved and closed.
The chief added in a dismissive tone, “Not that we can use them down here in this gravity well to Jump anywhere. I suppose we could use them to adjust internal gravity, or for power to restart a fusion bottle, if both failed.”
Haveram wasn’t a Jump engineer and had loved his destroyed main engines more than the untouchable and ephemeral Trap fields and the tachyons they could capture. These things didn’t seem instinctively ‘real’ to him if he couldn’t touch or even see them.
Nevertheless, he had an appreciation for how they might help him with the ‘toys’ he could touch and see. “I guess if we had to shut down or repair the dual fusion systems we could shunt energy from a Trap through the emitters into a power converter to restart the plasma confinement of a bottle. Without a second bottle available we’d never get ours restarted otherwise.”
Just then, there was a knock at his cabin door, and he heard Hanson’s voice outside. “Captain, I have your breakfast Sir.”
Telling the Steward to enter, he finished his conversation, “Chief, I just had breakfast delivered, I’ll talk to you later.” He disconnected, reaching for a hot buttered piece of toast.
****
In the dome, Dillon and Noreen were feeling like old time gunslingers, with two pistols each on their hips. Besides the Krall pistols, Dillon had one of their rifles slung, muzzle down on his left shoulder, and his Sonic was now rigged as a shoulder holster at his left armpit. Noreen had her Jazzer’s holster rigged the same way, but hadn’t wanted a rifle at this time.
Greeves had left them at the third level as he headed back to his ‘hermit’s’ cave, as he called his quarters. He chuckled as he looked back at them just before they selected the ground floor. “You look dangerous as hell, but don’t get overconfident,” he warned. “Kobani creatures aren’t easily impressed.”
They stepped off the elevator in the Great Hall, and got immediate notice. From the people of the Fancy without guns it was envy, because these two were now well armed. The new arrivals were almost all eager to get their own weapons. There was a waiting list for the firing range, and the volunteer instructors now asked for what to them were rare food items in exchange for lessons.
The looks they received from the Primes were more measured. Many had heard who had certified these two at the range, but if not, they could see the two distinct low-slung modified pistols, just like the ones Colonel ‘Grease’ wore.
There were four of the short clips in their belt holders. Based on color codes, two were filled with large caliber buck shot, one with small shot, and one with soft-nosed slugs. The inserted fifth short magazine in the pistols on their right hips each held small buckshot. You could tell based on the brown color code of the bottom two inches showing on each clip. The left hip guns were not loaded. Dillon carried the satchel with the remaining loaded ten large clips, and additional ammunition, including practice rounds. The bag was over half-full but probably weighed less than ten pounds at 1 g, and felt like fifteen pounds on Koban.
Maggi spied them before they reached the doors that would take them toward the east garage, nearest the Flight of Fancy. “Dillon, Noreen,” she called out.
Hearing her voice, they turned, waved and joined her at a table close to the doors. She was sitting with the Chief Steward, Nory Walters, and two Primes that were unfamiliar to Dillon or Noreen.
“Deanna, Stavro,” Maggi rose to her feet to face her friends, “May I present Commander Noreen Renaldo, the First Officer of the Flight of Fancy, and Doctor Dillon Martin, a fellow scientist and a Board member of the University consortium I told you about.” She turned back to complete the introduction, and noticed the other two had remained seated.
Pretending to take no notice of the breach of manners, she finished the introductions. “Noreen, Dillon, I’d like you to meet Stavro Bock and Deanna Turner.”
That’s weird Dillon thought, Maggi leaving out honorifics? He noticed they made no effort to stand or offer their hand in greeting. He managed to hold his own hand back, to avoid an awkward moment, but Noreen had automatically started to extend hers, so he smoothly reached over to grasp her right hand with his left.
“Here my Lady, please allow me to help you,” as if she had needed help to step over the bench seat at the table.
Quickly understanding what he’d done and why, Noreen replied in kind, “Thank you my Gentle Man.”
The formality was in stark contrast to the two motionless Primes, who hadn’t even nodded their heads in acknowledgement of the introduction.
Maggi frowned slightly at the rudeness, but explained why she had asked them to join her. “Mister Walters and I were discussing the safe storage and security of the supplies we will be sharing with everyone here.” The emphasis on ‘everyone’ was apparent.
She continued, “Mister Bock doesn’t think anything we brought with us should be put in a locked or secure area, but rather placed on the easily accessible storage racks next to the garage maintenance area. Miss Turner agrees in part, but concedes that some of our scientific equipment and special nonfood supplies may require more security.”
Looking to the two, she asked, “Did I state your positions accurately, if only in a general manner? Or do you wish to clarify what I said?”
Obviously, there was a dispute arising over the bounty of supplies the Flight of Fancy had brought with her, and how available they would be to those already here.
Bock used a threatening tone. “Anything that captives bring with them belongs to us all, and needs to be put where any of us can use them.”
“And I repeat Mister Bock,” Maggi replied forcefully, “that food, drink, clothing, and bedding will be shared equally. However, we will not place them where individuals can grab the lion’s share of what they want. That’s what would happen if we followed your suggestion!”
In yet a more threatening tone, Bock got louder. “You had better grasp the change in your new lifestyle woman; this is survival of the fittest here. If you don’t take what you need to stay alive, you get weaker and die. The sooner you newbie’s learn this, the more of you will live through the next year.”
Dillon sat still and kept his hands below the table. He spoke up before Maggi exploded all over Bock’s insulting mode of address to an older Lady.
“Bock, who put you in charge of anything here? We were told that there were no leaders among you, so are you saying that you are a leader here, that you set the rules and policy for everyone?” His tone was
just as harsh.
Bock had a snide reply, “If you mean have I survived by doing what’s needed to stay alive then yes, I follow the rules we have been forced to use. This is the Krall policy and their rules. You had better learn them fast or you won’t last long, and it won’t be the Krall you have to worry about if you cross me newbie.”
He leaned forward half rising, as he placed both hands on the table as if about to leap over. He was a big man, stocky, and his muscles were adapted to Koban’s gravity. He was sure he could take this scientist, who despite looking fit, wasn’t about to match up to a real man.
Dillon didn’t pull back a centimeter. “The Krall apply their rules to us, but we don’t have to do it to one another. I think you had best sit back Bock, so we can talk reasonably about your future here, if you have one.”
“You feel brave now that you have a gun?” He taunted. “I can take you any day before you can pull it out of that shiny new holster.” His own gun was in a holster slung over the center right side of his chest.
“You have two hours practice with dummy rounds on stationary targets. I’ll blow your head off if I don’t break your neck first.” He looked ready to move if his threat didn’t force Dillon to back down.
“Bock, I don’t have to out draw you. If you make a single move I don’t like, your balls will splatter all the way to that far wall.”
Bock quickly raised his right hand from the table to go for his gun when a blast from under the table caught him in the lower groin, knocking him backwards over the bench and onto his back. His lower abdomen was torn open and blood was pouring out. There were startled shouts from around the room.
Bock screamed loudest, partly from pain but mostly in rage. Still on his back he moved his hand towards his gun again, as Dillon stood, aiming his pistol down at his face from the opposite side of the table.
“Don’t try it!” Dillon warned.
Ignoring the warning, Bock grabbed his pistol butt and had it half out of the holster when his will power, along with his face, disappeared in another whoosh-blam, and a spray of brains and blood as the buck shot struck.
The Turner woman had jumped away from Bock as he flew backwards, and had her left hand on her pistol butt in her hip holster. She was looking at Bock when he died, and as she looked back to Dillon, who was focused on the man he’d just killed, she discovered she was looking at three other barrels aimed at her.
Maggi, Walters, and Noreen had their guns out, covering Dillon. Maggi was also looking around the room for anyone that may have taken exception to Dillon’s act of self-defense.
Turner raised her hand well away from her gun, and none of the other Primes seemed inclined to argue the matter, but they were watching them warily.
Dillon, the image of the dead man’s exploding face etched in is mind, belatedly noticed Turner’s hand movement away from her gun, and realized she could have killed him while he was frozen for that brief eternity. Then when Maggi spoke, he glanced left and saw he’d had plenty of back up with their three guns.
“This was self-defense,” Maggi shouted. “Bock threatened us, and when we didn’t back down, he was drawing his gun when he was shot. He was given another chance after that, but still pulled his weapon. There are more witnesses than just us four.”
Surprising them, Turner spoke out. “She’s right. Bock was trying to force them to let him take as much as he could get of the new supplies. Just like he always does…, or did.” She added.
They were surprised no one seemed to question the reason for the shooting. Four men came over cautiously, hands held up clear of their guns.
One man said, “We don’t doubt your word. Bock has been a bully for a long time. He isn’t the only one, but he didn’t have any close friends.” The other men nodded agreement.
“You’re new here, so we’ll handle the recycle for you, since you don’t know where it is.” Each man took a limb and lifted the limp dripping body and carried it out through the closest double doors.
Feeling sick to his stomach Dillon asked of no one in particular, “Recycle?”
Jake’s voice answered, “There is an organic recycler in the covered corral on the north side of the dome. It will…”
Dillon cut him off. “I don’t want to know.”
Maggi, who had heard his rhetorical question, realized that Jake had provided him with some sort of an answer. That was interesting, and she did want to know, so she made a mental note to ask Jake about the subject later.
A small human made cleaning bot arrived from somewhere. It started cleaning up the mess on the floor. It was the first one they had seen, proving that some human automated equipment had made it here.
Turner, seeing that none of the guns was pointing at her now, told them “I despised Bock, and I wasn’t with him. He simply came up and joined us when he saw me talking to you two.” She meant Maggi and Nory Walters.
“That’s true,” confirmed Walters. “We were already talking with Ms. Turner when Bock simply walked over and sat down.”
“I was taking a chance,” Turner told them. “You have so much more to share than any new captives have had. I wanted to convince you to divide your foodstuff fairly. Bock was one of the greedy ones. He knew I had complained about how things disappeared here, and he probably guessed what I was going to say to you. I was petrified when he sat down next to me. He’s killed before in a fight over property.” She explained.
“I wasn’t going to defend him, but I wasn’t sure if either of you,” she pointed to Noreen and Dillon, “might make me a target.”
Maggi replied loud enough that many people could hear. “We will share the food supplies and items such as replacement clothes and shoes that I see are in sad shape for many of you. The Krall spared our ship, so it will be available to meet many of your needs. We have some pharmacy items, limited medical supplies, an automated surgery, a machine shop, and if we get fresh food, an automated kitchen to prepare cooked hot food.” She paused.
“But as Bock just discovered, we will fight and kill to protect ourselves from anyone that tries to take what we are willing to give!” She said that in her best Drill Sergeant voice.
As the buzz of conversation spread around the large hall, Maggi walked closer to Turner.
“Young Lady, I think you have a bit more guts than a lot of the people here. I would like to ask you to help us set up a fair distribution system, with a place we can use like a commissary to pass out supplies. Are you interested?”
“I am if you can make people here comply with that. It may take more than what happened here this morning to make it stick,” she warned.
“Well, I think we will have Colonel Greeves around to support us, and more backbone in our group than people here have been used to seeing for some time. If you can find us a place to store our supplies, we will see that they are protected by not only us, but by people like yourself, who can oversee fair distribution.”
“Then I’ll help, and I know some others that think like I do, who may also be willing to help. A lot of us have given up hope of making things better. It seems like every time anyone tries, they are sent on the next Training Day.”
“You know dear, that’s not the first time that notion seems to have reared its head. We may need to do a little snooping to discover how the lottery really works. However, don’t worry about that for now. All I ask is that you spread the word to people you trust, and ask them to wait.”
“I’ll do that Doctor Fisher. Thank you.” She disappeared into the crowded hall, looking for the people she had mentioned.
The four of them were in relative isolation now, so Noreen had to ask.
“Dillon, how the hell did you outdraw that thug from a sitting position?”
“I didn’t,” he answered, with the first glimmer of a smile.
He untied the bottom of his holster and raised it to show the singed mark at its end, and the short flash burn along the side of his pant leg just above the knee. “I simply pointed my knee at him
and pulled the trigger when he made his move. Glad I had Smart pants on, that would have burned.”
Maggi said, “Cowboy, it ain’t noon yet and you already had ta kill a man. Yew better get some chow afore yew get a posse on yer tail.”
They all looked at her as if she’d lost her mind and now spoke gibberish.
“What?” She asked. “None of you ever watch those flat screen things they used to call movies? The ship’s library has thousands of the old things. I got bored.”
Before they could say more, a general Link was established, as Noreen had arranged as a warning last night. Jake’s voice was in every crewmember’s ear.
“A shuttle has landed near the Flight of Fancy. Telour has just made an exit, and it appears he is going to the ramp for the open cargo hold.” As instructed, the announcement ended without his usual added trivia.
As the four of them started hurrying towards the dome’s east garage, one of the elevators on the opposite side of the hall swished open, and a blue suited Krall rushed out. The people in the hall got out of his way as he moved along one of the lanes formed by the tables, gliding towards the same set of doors on the east.
“That was Dorkda.”
“Are you sure?” Walters asked Dillon.
“Oh yes. I won’t forget the Krall that came close to ripping out my heart. He sent a warrior to say he would meet with the Captain yesterday, but it never happened. Perhaps he’s looking for him now.”
Dorkda passed right by them without a glance and out through the double doors. They followed, and when they reached the maintenance area, a woman on door guard duty was closing one of the smaller doors.
Dillon called out to her. “Did Dorkda just go out to the Fancy?”
“I don’t know where he was going, but that was Dorkda. He never closes the damned doors behind himself. He leaves anything lurking under the overhang free to sneak inside.”
“Maggi, are you going over to the ship too?” Dillon asked. “Noreen and I were going back when you called to us. I don’t know if a Shuttle landing will draw skeeters and wolfbats or not.”
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