Some asked what my plans where for the Golden Refuge. As if I know. Though they think that I do.
I was shocked by the last question so much that I couldn’t come up with an answer to it as the speakers in the shuttle came to life.
“Take your seats and lock your harnesses, lift in ten.”
The questions stopped as everyone checked their harnesses with the now ingrained habit of completing what had to be done as fast and as soon as possible.
I checked the harness which crossed my body the seat conforming to my size. When it expanded it was big enough to fit a person in a Mecha but for now it only fit a single human.
The airlock closed in a rush of air then the clamps disengaged. The shuttle’s thrusters turned us away from the structure we’d been living in for the past few months. The engines kicked as the pilot put us into full burn.
Across the surface of the shuttle screens came to life as we were able to see into space, on one wall and the grey surface of what we had called home on the other. We moved away with a puff of manoeuvring thrusters, the main engines kicking in as we were free. It seemed as if we were heading for space, except for the flashing, moving lights that looked like ants moving in the same direction. I looked back seeing what had I had called home over the past few months we sped out into space. It was an elongated scaffold frame which looked similar to a large uniformly sized wing, other than a lump three quarters down its length. Massive ships attached to four points and the central band. It had to be at least two or three kilometres in diameter at the bulge, the length, I didn’t know as the scaffolding was still being placed. It quickly disappeared as we moved away.
“Holy shit.” Someone said as I turned to look through the projected windows (that were working) towards the direction where the shuttle was going. The Imperial Dreadnought Golden Refuge swelled before my eyes. Panels of interlocking armour covered the hull, arrays of antennas used for communications and electronic jamming sprouting randomly from the ship. Batteries of deadly looking weaponry waited in their storage positions as if asking for a reason to be deployed. Missile tubes and Protection defence Systems or PDS were also visible in their clusters. Long ragged scars in the ship’s hull and armour were visible even from this distance. Scars that would have meant a lesser ship would have not survived.
Close to the ship’s prow were a series of rounded protrusions with PDS crammed around them. Must be the wormhole generators. I thought as I looked at the other structural oddities of the ship. A third of the ship back from the prow the hull belled, weapons batteries lined the sides as thousands of lights like fireflies signalled windows hangars and airlocks. It was an image of power and strength.
She looked like a ship that refused to die. The Golden Refuge had clearly seen some fierce battles and had lived to tell of it. She wasn’t flashy or pretty, she was dirty and grimy and gritty. I felt myself grin, Just the kind of ship you’d use to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. I thought as we followed other shuttles. The Golden Refuge deserved a crew that were as hard as her, and would make it through whatever was thrown at them, even if it was the ones that practically owned them like slaves, she needed Juggernauts, no she needed Commandos, unrelenting Commandos that struck fear into their most stalwart enemies, never stopping, never giving up. My dark thoughts cleared as I noticed the shuttles that had left before my own, their engines sparks against the sea of stars.
My awe increased as the ship just seemed to get bigger, lights turned to hangars and hatches.
We passed under one of the guns stored away—what had looked like a toothpick was now bigger than the shuttle I was on. We never stood a chance. I thought as the hangar doors appeared before the shuttle and we taxied in. The Golden Refuge was two and a half kilometres long. At the belled out section she was a kilometre wide and eight hundred metres tall. She held a crew of twenty thousand and four thousand Mechas.
It probably had something to do with the fact that with all of our telescopes and technology we couldn’t see more than a tiny fraction of space in any detail. Wherever it had come from it had done its jobs; it had taken us from soft civilian (in most cases) humans and turned us into Mecha fighting bad asses. That could go out into the universe and spit in any enemies eye. As long as we were fighting hand to hand. We still hadn’t used melee or firearms yet.
“Docking.” The pilot said in the same bored voice of the boarding announcer.
Ramps lowered from the rear and sides of the shuttles as an officer walked in.
“Follow the blue and then purple lighting strips through the armouries to your rooms.” I slapped my harness. Releasing me, so I could walk down the ramp. A rush of fresh air and bright lighting met me as I felt myself relax. I felt my whole diaphragm relax as I didn’t have to take the massive breaths I needed to at the training station to get enough oxygen, and I could see clearly for thirty feet and my eyes didn’t hurt. It felt odd as I finally had an atmosphere that wasn’t made to specifically break me and make me stronger. I felt an alertness and lightness fill my body as my body sucked in the raw air as if it was ambrosia. The strength I felt was incredible; I saw a seat and wondered if I could rip it up with this new found strength. I felt alive for the first time in a long time. For the first time I was thankful for the soupy atmosphere and heavy gravity. It had taught my body how to live in a environment that wanted to kill it. Remembering where I was I continued on, finding the blue strip with ease. I turned around seeing that the others in my shuttle were falling in behind me, each stepping lightly as they continued with grins on their faces.
It looked like the mecha training had been more than a little useful as some people that didn’t notice the reduced gravity stomped the ground, falling over as they looked around dumbfounded.
Shaking my head I grinned as I continued on, other shuttles disgorging human Mechas that all flowed along the blue light strips which led directly to four armouries. The shuttle bay had painted strips showing where shuttles should land, and places where to walk. Even as the remaining shuttles came in, the hangar didn’t explosively decompress. An electrostatic field like that on our plasmid blades held the atmosphere of the ship so that we weren’t suffocating. It still made me speed up my walking not wanting to be in a room only protected from depressurization by an electrical field invisible except for the random particle interfering with its pathway.
The blue strip split into four, red, green, purple and yellow. I followed the Purple heading for armoury three. Inside it was like the armoury back on the training sphere, except for the first fifteen feet there was shuttered and locked weapon racks. After that there were lockers filled with mechas row upon row. I continued through the armoury into what appeared to be a living quarters. I could see people from the other armouries following their lights to their rooms.
Everything was bigger, with enough room to fit two, even three Mechas, at a squeeze, abreast. On the training structure it had been just big enough for a single Mecha, probably in case we tried to fight our officers. I grinned as I saw the looks of rust, scratches, and signs of life. Finally something I could understand and at least looked human, instead of the perfect walls and doors that looked as if they were part of the wall.
Again I looked at everyone following me. They looked to me, their eyes asking for me to tell them what to do.
“Alright everyone grab quarters and get used to it. Just relax for now. Get to know the area. You, find me the mess and tell the rest of three armouries people. Take people as needed.” I picked out a random person who nodded their head, grabbing three others as they ran away from the armouries, their heads on a swivel as they looked for my mess.
I walked up to the first room that I saw waving the door open as I walked in. The first thing I did was code the door to my DNA. Yasu did the same as she came in and I finally looked around the room.
The pod was rectangular one end being made into a head. The left side having two lockers with battle suits and a view screen and right side with a bed id
entical to the one I had slept on last night extending from it. In the lockers was also a data pad. I picked it up, my sleep training and know-how coming in use as I pinged the tag I’d placed on my armour. I let my breath out in a rush as I found it in the armoury I’d just walked through. I wandered out of the door now queued to my DNA and my IFF chip. The armoury was likely programmed it seemed as I walked in working on the data pad.
I scanned the room finding mine the only one in a work dock with someone next to it, bent over in a box of parts.
“Who is it?” An annoyed, yet familiar tone said.
“Shrift!?” Sure enough the Kuruvians head bopped out of the box a smile on his face as he saw me.
“Oh, James I thought I’d see you around, though I wasn’t sure looking at the state of your armour. I hear those marriage fights can become brutal.”
“That they can be,” I said still feeling my unhealed stomach. “How’s my Mecha?” I said moving on as I looked over his handiwork.
“Broken to all hell, it’s going to take me a few cycles to fix it!” He said frustrated, turning on the Mecha armour which was already being torn apart, a nerve port relay in his hand.
“Need a hand?” I asked as he shoved the unit into its place, running a start–up text.
“What, don’t want to be staying with your lady love tonight?” his tone dry.
“Well you’ve seen what she can do to a man when she’s being… passionate shall we say.” I said equally as dry.
Shrift gave a clicking laugh. “You may hide in my cave if you wish. It’s warm and I have cookies!” He said excitedly bringing forth both human and Kuruvian equivalents on a plate.
“Me hiding? No, just seeking wise refuge and council.” I winked, biting into the warm cookie.
“Wise indeed. I have after all seen what state your Mecha’s are in. Well let’s get rid of these armour plates. Your helmet, visor and the swivel bearings are shot. Your left arm will have to be replaced. Some of the lower back nerve ports will need to be replaced as well.” He rattled off the list of repairs as I mentally figured out the parts to use.
“Is there some kind of better medical systems we can add?”
A shine came to Shrift’s eye. “Well there is this new drug called H17E23. It’s a nanite, biological hybrid first aid drug to keep you humans alive. Though it is rare and production is limited, I’ve been able to persuade some manufacturers on the ship to keep us supplied with it.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s also known as hell fire.” He quirked his head to the side with a Kuruvian grin.
“Ah yes, never mind, I know it quite well.” I said with a pained look as I scratched my head.
“Thought you might. A new introduction system is needed; all of the other species take it orally. Humans with their outer blood stream can take it through the blood stream to get it to the area of injury faster.”
“Add an automatic injecting system that goes into the major arteries of the human body?” I said, beginning to think on the problem.
“Why not manual? Be safer if there is a misfire.” Shrift asked.
“With an auto injector we can have the same system but instead of having to inject it yourself the system will take over and do it for you. Be easier in battle, or if say you don’t have a hand to inject it.” I replied.
“This is why I am happy to be here with you, so many new ideas! Yes, yes let’s begin, from the bottom up as you humans say?” His manipulators moving in excitement.
“Indeed. Might as well do it on my battle suit and modify it for my… wife’s.” I said as if I had a bad taste in my mouth, Shrift staring at me oddly.
”I thought I was going to be single for the rest of my life.” I said in answer to his gaze.
“We should also work on connecting the battle suit to the mecha if it’s holding extra supplies of the hell fire. How long do you think it would take to modify everyone’s suit when we’re done with the prototypes?”
“Not too long, though Kuruvians don’t know much about clothing we just make them large so as to fit. If we want ones with needles over the veins we’re going to need to get better which might take some time.”
“There might be some humans that know their way around clothes.” I interjected. I hope Rick has an idea to get the humans organized. I thought before I noticed some force pushing me back as I gave Shrift a questioning look.
“We’re underway, seems all of the ships have been loaded.” Shrift said to my confused expression.
“Salchar sir!” The woman I’d sent to go and find the mess said breathlessly as she entered the armoury.
“Yes?”
“I found the messes there are three of them. Henry also told me to tell you that there are thirty two hundred Mechas on-board, bringing us to eighteen platoons and a hundred and eighty squads.”
“Thank you. Get three others to tell everyone to find out the location of their Mecha and familiarize themselves with its location, also the messes. Are there any training facilities?”
“Training occurs in the shuttle bay.” Shrift supplied, I nodded my thanks before turning back to the woman.
“Alright, thank you.” I gave her a lazy two finger salute, like I had given my squad; She quickly returned it as she left. I turned back to the Mecha. Shrift gave me his data pad which showed the schematic for the stand alone injector.
“Instead of having these channels, we should make self-containing packs so that if one’s broken another will fire and hopefully cover the area. It’ll be slower but still effective. It will also store more of the drug for us. We should add an external activator so that if it doesn’t fire and the person’s got the ability they can still fire the drug.” Shrift said, adding to our brainstorm.
“All good points. I think we’re going to have to work on the programming of when the drug will fire into an injured persons system.” I said as I gnawed my lip in thought.
“Why?”
“The drug is extremely painful, caused by the entire musculature of the person contracting as the drug tries to reach as much of the human system. It feels as if your body is trying to pull itself apart.”
“How long does it last?”
“It puts them out of combat for a half minute in most cases.”
“Ah indeed.” He said not fully understanding my vision of troops dropping to the ground, combat ineffective because they’d cut their arm on some loose padding.
“I think then that it should only be used if the person will die immediately or they’re in a situation where using it won’t be a possible factor in them dying because they’re so distracted.”
“A valid point, I can see what you’re saying. I think however we should start getting a blueprint together.”
“Of course.”
Shrift and I worked, people came by the armouries, nodding to me as they caught my eye. I don’t know how long it took for everyone to go through the armouries and find out where their exact Mecha was, located down to rack and associated number. I felt like someone had added to my instruction but seeing the added effect of them knowing exactly where their Mecha was I was fine with the additional order.
However it bore later thought as I’d need to find out who was adding to my orders and see what their angle was.
Somehow my brain turned to Rick as I remembered the thing he’d transferred to my pad. I pulled it out and opened its tab.
Hello, Rick? I wrote as I put it back in my pouch, waiting for a reply. I got one a few minutes later.
What’s up boss? He asked.
We need to come up with a way to organize all of these people.
I had an idea for that. He paused before a download appeared.
There was a table of organization with my name at the top without a tittle then branching off boxes which were empty. There was a side bar with forums, jobs and training.
I was wondering when you would ask.
Walk me through it.
So everyone makes a profile
filling out these fields. Then those people that have been squad leaders, leaders of teams and such put that in here. Then you choose who is best for what positions.
Why me?
Because you are the boss. He replied as I shook my head at the pad, changing back to the page with the table of organization and pointed below my name.
Remember when I asked if you wanted to be a Sub-Commander, I wasn’t joking. I grinned.
I was hoping you’d forget. My grin grew as I continued on.
Now Training?
You’ll see there’s a tab. We can make a schedule so that no one starts degrading. Plus we can start moving onto developing other skills, or more advanced stuff. Most don’t know how to handle a weapon, or how to position themselves in a firefight. They know the overall tactics of fighting in space, and how to take an entrenched position. Yet there’s no focus on how to think for themselves. We’re small which means we need to know everything. Look at Canada.
The Recruitment: Rise of the Free Fleet Page 15