A low priority message was sent to England's planetary systems A.I. Tower and the Tower's A.I. immediately flashed a response with over whelming volume. Thousands of questions about the Inspector A.I. flooded in, but the only question the Military A.I. Controller on the 3rd moon could unhurriedly answer as it continued to stretch running diagnostics on itself, was where the possible Inspector A.I. was located. At least the request for information anyway. Which was only a few miles from where the requesting Tower was located. The military A.I. on the distant moon found that interesting.
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Being in the middle of trying to get the tent down to make landing room with the opposite side always going back up while one side was coming down. She looked up just in time to watch the fighter enter the ship. Then starting to come unglued as she screamed into her comm shouting orders as she headed for the ship, the fastest way to get to the ship was through the still half set up tent. The Captain took off through the middle of it on her way to set things straight. Just as her previous orders finely got around and the entire tent was finally collapsed with the Captain half way through it. It took several minutes for her screams to be heard above the noise of the crowed as the tent was being rolled up with her inside it but finely she was rescued.
“Well hell; now that he had landed on the number 3 boat lock they may as well set the damn thing up.” She said as she was helped out. Everyone heard that loud and clear. Before the Captain reached the bottom of the ships ramp the tent was fully up and almost ready for business.
The emergency sliding roller narrow segmented panel hatch slid ¾ shut across the truck hatch opining left room enough for only a couple of people or the many food and entertainment carts to leave through it, for crowd control and security. The Captain rushed up to the truck deck hatch (since it was closer than the Quarter deck gangplank a Quarter of the way around the ship) just in time to get run down by a food sales cart headed out of the ship. Tumbling down the ramp as the cart sailed by, the man pushing the cart not even noticing the Captain. Picking herself up the Captain walked up carefully looking through the cracked hatch and into the ship before entering. Then she heard the crowd outside scream something about an assault ship. Turning around she rushed through the opining just in time for a squad of marines to run through knocking the Captain across the deck and into the shadows and keep right on running for the elevator. Picking herself up again, she looked after the reseeding marines and headed back outside the ship only to get knocked down again. But the last two marines at least stopped to help the Captain back up on to her feet. “What the hell is going on out there?”
“Oh Captain sir. An assault APC with big red crosses just landed on the upper landing deck sir.”
“I don’t believe this. Get your asses up to the lock and find out what is going on up there you hear me!” As the marines took off the Captain fallowed much slower rubbing her bruised body.
At the hatch to the elevator, not expecting anyone, the Captain started in as the hatch opened and a cart of trade goods came rushing out knocking the Captain back to one side on her butt. As the cart rushed by, the man pushing it apologized but kept going. The elevator hatch closed as the Captain was getting up and a couple seconds later opened again with another cart exiting and knocking her back down onto the deck. The third time she got up to one side of the hatch and waited for the next cart to leave and then stepped into the elevator to start the 5 minute climb to the boat deck fuming the whole way. As the elevator approached the boat deck she suddenly decided that with half the marines already up there to take care of any foreign troops on board her ship, she had a few minutes to stop at her cabin and get cleaned up and in a proper uniform. Without thinking about it consciously she punched the override to send her to her cabin. Not realizing how much her detesting even the thought of going near that lock again influenced her actions. Over the years she had avoided even going near the locked number 3’s hatch as if it was haunted. Doing her best for the last 21 years to forget they even had a number 3 boat lock. She took her time cleaning up and dressing without realizing it as she planned what she was going to do to that damn Mr. Collins she should have done long ago instead of making him a damn Officer that kept screwing up her life. All the while coming up with excuses to avoid going back down to the shuttle deck let alone lock number 3.
Fighting down the ghosts of the one time she went into the lock after taking command of the ship. Fighting down the memories of the few minutes she had spent in that horrid lock alone while the rest of the crew fought to keep the ship from dying and joining the pore soles staring at her as she retched at the smell before she left the lock and tried to forget. Hoping the rest of the ship did not join them in the hours, days, weeks and even months after, as the ship scrapped and clawed and climbed over small and massive and all too frequent problems and barriers trying to kill them light years from the nearest habitable system.
Finally she headed for the number 3 boat lock dressed in her best class A uniform complete with every possible medal and bling she had. Most of them she had never worn before as most of them disgusted her but this time she subconsciously hoped they would shield her from her ghosts as she did everything she could think of to avoid going. Though it took her awhile standing in the elevator even to say the deck number.
The hatch opened onto the Boat deck and a cart full of boxes immediately rolled into the elevator pushing her into the corner and the hatch closed and the elevator dropped. The Marine stood by the door, forced a weak smile when he finely saw her and then stood there stern faced looking half sick but finely said. “Good evening Captain.” He swallowed trying to keep his face straight as a tear ran down his cheek.
“Good evening Marine.” Standing there wedged in the corner the Captain starred at the opposite Bulkhead trying to ignore the marine as she wondered what his problem was. It took forever going down. The Captain had no idea where she was going. She just wanted to get there so she could get back up to the boat deck and kick the Collin’s kids butt and started tapping on the box on the cart in front of her with her fingers.
The Marine reached over and put his hand on the Captain’s. “Please Captain it is disrespectful.” Captain Cook starred at the Marine in disbelief until the hatch opened on the lowest deck of the ship with the Quarter deck, the crews vacuum suit storage compartments and the ships Morgue. Though that did not register on the Captain’s thoughts as she tried to figure out why the marine was taking boxes off the ship from the shuttle lock deck. Her mind without thinking decided it was only garbage. The Marine pulled the cart out and another cart with empty boxes bouncing on it slid in to replace it and up they went and it seemed to take even longer as they rose back up past the cargo decks. Finely at the shuttle boat deck the hatch opened and the cart was pulled out and the Captain reluctantly pushed herself off the back rail only to be pushed back into the corner again. Before she could say a word the hatch closed and the elevator jerked to the side into the down shaft and dropped.
“What the hell is going on here?” The Captain asked rhetorically.
“Captain Sir. The ensign may not make it sir. I heard Dr. Wells say he could not do anything more for her as he was talking to several English Doctors with some strange equipment. The padre already gave her last rights. She is in bad shape but then as bad as that fighter looks it is a miracle they are a live anyway. I hear the English are flying in more equipment trying to save her life sir.”
“Oh? That does not sound good Corporal. Flying in more equipment?” Fantasy of a hundred enemy assault troops storming the lock made her suddenly anxious to get up to the deck as she looked down and straitened some of the bling on her vest that included a sash over her shoulder and across her chest. The weight suddenly growing, dragging her down at the thought of even stepping out onto the boat deck to confront the Enemy but not sure who the enemy was anymore only knowing that Commander Collins was convenient.
“Yes sir. They are going to have to cut her out of
the fighter. Sir. They have so many doctors with equipment up their already you can’t see the fighter anymore. But from what I could see of it I am amazed the damn thing was still flying. Mr. Collins must be some damn fine pilot.”
The Captain followed a lot closer to the cart this time but still at a respectable distance but again at the hatch the outgoing cart was barely clear of the hatch turning to the left to go down the passageway when a fully loaded cart from the right pushed her back into the elevator as the marine talked to the outgoing marine telling him where he needed to go next as the hatch slammed closed under marine assault protocol's. They immediately dropped down the shaft again. It was all the Star Queen's Captain could do to keep from screaming at the marine until she saw his face trying to keep from crying as he caught sight of her, turning his back to her without a word.
With a new cart of six foot long boxes the elevator whined back up the ship. Back up at the boat deck the Captain thought about climbing on the cart for a ride to the lock but dignity won out and she just grabbed on to the cart and let the Marine pull her out and then let go stepping out of the way of the cart loaded with tagged boxes headed into the elevator. Walking up the passageway she stepped out of the way of another cart as it flew by and met a young Padre as he came out of the lock.
“I am sorry Captain but I needed a break. The sorrow in there is just over whelming. It is one thing to perform last rights for the ensign but all the others are beyond what I can bear. There are just too many of them Captain. They should have done this twenty one years ago and for that I beg God’s forgiveness as well as our brothers and sisters forgotten so long ago.” Bowing his head the Padre prayed to himself for a few seconds. “I beg God's forgiveness for not insisting we release these pore souls from their hell when I became Gods vassal.” A Priest walked out of the hatch fallowing a cart with a box on it shaking holy water on it as she prayed.
After the Priest passed. “What the hell are you talking about Padre?” Stepping around the Padre to head into the lock a cart from behind pushed her toward the open hatch. Panicking as the hatch rapidly grew, she reflexively turned before entering the opening even though it would have been easier just to let the cart push her through, letting her speed as she dodged away from the hatch take her several yards down the passageway before she could come to a stop. The marine apologized before disappearing into the hold. Bracing herself on the bulkhead as she turned around the Captain yelled at the Marine without making much sense as she started back through the hatch to chew out the marine only to get pushed back to trip and fall to the deck across the passageway towered the hatch that led into boat lock across the passageway. As the cart came running out and around the corner, it hit her outstretched leg bouncing one of the light plastic boxes off. Dropping on top of the Captain the lid popped open, the body bag rolling out onto the deck across her. Cursing the marine, she pushed the bag away dumping a leg bone still attached to a piece of metal cut out of the deck from the improperly sealed bag clanking onto the deck next to her.
Starring at the mummified leg with an exposed bone attached to the metal section of deck next to her and the other mummified bones and rags inside the clear plastic bag for several seconds, the Captain started backing up shoving it abruptly away first with her hands and then with her feet and continued to back up against the hatch into the other lock. Using the lock handle to pull herself up without turning away, the lever slid down unlocking the hatch. Her weight opening the hatch. As it swung in it pulled the Captain into the lock backward and around to face inside the lock and out of sight of the metal tipped bone and the body bag in the passageway as the marine and the Padre already praying over the cart horridly started refilling the box. The Priest and several marines in the passageway rushing up to help.
The hulk inside Boat Lock Number One sat peacefully sullen, great hunks torn out of it from battle damage 21 years before when the Captain had taken it on its first and last battle the day she became ship's Captain. To badly damaged to be repaired with the limited funds at that time, the boat had slowly been stripped long ago of most of its working boat equipment to keep the other two remaining boats functional. Some damaged weapons remained and the odd pieces of equipment but the Captain stood there wondering why she had been so adamant about dumping weight all over the ship yet ignored the 100 ton hulk that just sat, taking up ever more valuable space in her over crowded ship. It was high time they ejected the damn thing and the Captain started checking it for salvage. Her mind turning away from the horrors she knew was in the other lock.
Every step revealing damage and triggering memories of laser strikes, missile hits and dying crewmen during a desperate battle to rescue Captain Adam’s wife (the Star Queen’s Captain that had given her command of the dying ship and in turn ordering his death to save the ship), and the millions of credits in the ship‘s Pot the pirates had taken before they were driven off the ship. The battle that had cost the ship far too many lives even if they would have been successful and regained their pot of gold and the hostages was an all too common nightmare that had grown over the years. Forcing her never to marry in fear that she too would turn traitor in a stupid attempt to save her loved ones if they were captured by pirates.
Tears coming to her own face remembering having to cut bodies, (one of which was still alive for a few hours) out of the boats hull. That memory reminding her of the sight of one of the assault marines with his foot welded to the pirate ship's hull still flopping and kicking trying to reach the boat but not able to leave his trap as she pulled the boat away trying to save the few that were still alive.
They had taken most of the pirate ship during the assault, killing most of the pirate crew until they came to an armored bulkhead they could not get through. Suddenly bombs started going off killing crewman after crewman forcing them to retreat to the boat only for the damn 3 inch turret to come alive again. She finely made it back to the shuttle boat in a hail storm of 3 inch gun fire from a turret that was knocked out when they arrived on the pirate ship but miraculously started working again. Blaming herself for the troops she had to abandon on the pirate ship to save the rest. Blaming herself for the lack of training and lack of the proper equipment they had needed to get through that bulkhead only feet away from taking the Pirate ship and victory. In spite of the fact that it was the ship’s previous pacifist Captain and Council that had forbidden weapons of any kind aboard the ship. The fact that the few weapons she (as security officer) had managed to smuggle on board to equip and train her few security troops, was why Captain Adams had given her command and why she was able to save the crew and the ship was little condolence. She would kick herself the rest of their life for not being able to smuggle more weapons that would have saved more lives. Ignoring the fact that if she had smuggled even half of what she would have needed, the Council would have found out about more than the Black Market Torpedoes’ she was able to excuse away as a miss addressed shipment as the Cargo Chief took them away to destroy so no one else could ever use them either, (Something else she was kicking herself for failing) and she would have been busted down to being in charge of cleaning the septic tanks. As it was, Captain Adams had heard the rumors and when crewmen and kids started dying by the hands of the pirates and his family captured ass hostages that would never be released, he had turned to his troublesome Security Officer that had smuggled weapons aboard the ship, praying that the rumors of her training ships marines were true.
Then desperate weeks followed, trying to repair and save the badly damaged Star Queen. Repairing damaged systems only hours from running out of power and oxygen only to have the systems fail again from the strain of the thousands of crewmen still alive aboard the dying ship. To finely make enough progress with the Plasma Battery core all but empty using the last dregs of plasma to finally getting a fusion generator working to keep the crew alive only to face being stranded between the stars with no hope of rescue. To finely cut and weld and tape an engine together enough to limp them back to a civili
zed planet and out of the immense void between star systems that would have resulted in their eventual cold lonely deaths.
Then the years of scrimping and begging to drag the crippled ship from one planet to another trying to deliver cargo that had been damaged during the Pirate assault resulting in little profit and trading crucial ships equipment and systems for fuel and food just to survive one step from bankruptcy for years. To finely become profitable again. Only to become a baby factory as families tried to replace loved ones lost.
Well, at least the new generation coming of age was feeling secure enough now to keep their families to only a couple of kids. All they had to do now was find a way to give them the new ship they needed to split the family crew and to thrive into the future. And that started with getting rid of another 100 tons of scrap metal. Any thought of the horror in lock 3 driven from her mind including any possibility of English Storm Troopers assaulting the ship. Somehow her subconscious knew Commander Collins would not allow that to happen after his actions in the Cargo Hold battle.
Pushing herself off the hatch she got to work having forgotten what she did not want to see again inside Boat Lock number 3. To remind her of what a traitor could do if given the chance. A chance she had made possible when he had used the feelings she had for him to get the weapons and access to equipment he should never have had. That allowed him to take advantage of and help the pirates while he stole the ship’s life blood from the crew savings. Then killed the majority of his mutinous supporters when they got in his way. Men, women and children all, slaughtered in the lock before he left with the stolen Shuttle Number 3. Taking a sizable percentage of the pot he had split with the big gorilla Pirate with the black beard. Her only consolation was that the man was so stupid he had taken a shuttle that stood no chance of ever reaching the nearest star system only to be rejected and driven off by the very pirate that he had helped. But with so many dead and a shuttle that was barely operational, she dared not go after the traitor before he disappeared into the void. Though again subconsciously, she knew the ass hole, after kicking most of his supporters but a harem out of the shuttle and then killing them so the automatic lock controls would not register life inside the lock and allow the lock to be opened into vacuum, probably had taken that into account and made it to an outpost only criminals knew existed.
Tramp Wars: The Enemy Page 89