Solomon Family Warriors II

by Robert H. Cherny

  HOMESTEAD - CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ADMIRAL DAVIDSON AND HIS AIDE were on the third leg of a six station inspection tour. The aide was reading what appeared to be a popular novel on his e-reader. The Admiral leaned over and asked what the aide was reading as much out of boredom as curiosity.

  “Swordsman Lies,” the aide replied.

  “Isn’t that the controversial history of the Swordsmen by the excommunicated son of one of the Swordsman Church senior executives?”

  “Yes, sir, it is. Did you know my father is in this book?”

  “No, he was a Space Force officer wasn’t he?”

  “He was the first to spot the Swordsman military build up. He worked in the Federation General Accounting Office, Military Division. He ran credit checks on people buying surplus hardware. He noticed disturbing patterns. Unfortunately, one of the people he told his suspicions to was a Swordsman agent. The book doesn’t mention my father by name, but the details are right. My mother said the Swordsmen killed him, but we could never prove it. The book tells how he died.”

  “Yes, I remember. Your mother was not alone in that belief. How old were you at the time?”

  “Twelve, sir.”

  “Well, now you know. I understand the Swordsmen are very upset over the book.”

  “Yes, especially since the Federation Courts are interested. Cops all over the Federation are looking to get promoted at Swordsman expense.”

  The Admiral smiled, “I would think so. What about their military? What are they doing?”

  “They continue to buy our surplus equipment and are training a force in System 12. Until they attack someone, under Federation law, we can’t touch them as much as I would love to nuke them out of existence.”

  “You and me both, but that is hardly the way to win the hearts and minds of the populace. Although, you know they are kind of doing us a favor.”

  “How so?”

  “Their prison ministry is quite effective. They have been taking the convicts after release and training them for the Swordsman military.”

  “How does this benefit us?”

  “By taking criminals who would otherwise have nowhere to go except back to a life of crime out of our cities.”

  “That hardly justifies the rest of the damage they have done to our political institutions.”

  “Granted, but we do need to look at the balance.”

  “Oh by the way, sir, have you seen the new simulator game based on pirate interdiction?”

  “I have heard about it. I have not seen it.”

  “You should play it, sir. I have it here on my hand-held data assistant.”

  The admiral played the game constantly except for short breaks for the rest of the voyage. As they disembarked, the Admiral remarked to his aide, “That game is frightening. It includes the real specifications on every ship in our fleet, the pirate fleets and every aircraft and space capable vehicle military or civilian.”

  “Yes sir, very thorough. What concerns me is that some of the scenarios are only taught at the Academy. I believe an academy graduate must have written the game.”

  “I agree.”

  “Sir, did you look at game number 22? That’s a tactic I have never seen before. I didn’t know a battleship was vulnerable to that tactic.”

  “It would take a tremendous dead weight to make that work. The only guy I know who would use a tactic like that is Solomon.”

  “Solomon, sir? Isn’t he dead?”

  “Son of a bitch!” The admiral paused as the realization of what he concluded hit him. “I was right! This means he’s not dead. The bastard.”

  “Sir, if he’s not dead, then I have some disturbing news. Captain Bardwell is missing.”

  “Captain Avelina Bardwell? You know the connection?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When I retire I am sending you over to intelligence.”

  “Thank you sir.”

  “I’ll bet Bardwell found Solomon and took off with him. I wonder where they went.”

  “I may know, sir.”

  “Do tell,” the Admiral smiled.

  “Sir, the people distributing the game are the same people publishing the book. They are also distributing a documentary about a group of refugees who landed on an uninhabited planet.”

  “How does this tie together?”

  “All the outlets apparently received identical unidentified data modules. They all went public the same day. The book, the game and the documentary carry appeals to make donations to the same four charities, all of which are known fronts for anti-Swordsman activities.”

  “I am definitely sending you over to intelligence when I retire.”

  “Thank you, sir. If you look at the documentary closely I think you can determine what system it’s in.” He pulled up a galaxy map on his personal data assistant and pointed. “Right here, sir.” Then he drew a circle with his finger on the display. “This is the sector where Captain Solomon is believed to have gone down.” He drew a smaller circle centered on the same point. “This is where Pierre LaMarche is believed to have disappeared.” He drew a yet smaller circle centered on the same point. “The Swordsmen lost a scout in this area. Lt. Myrakova has concentrated her patrols in this area as well.” He looked up at the Admiral.

  “When was the last time we were in the area?”

  “Not since the original survey team labeled the planet uninhabitable.”

  “Can we send a reconnaissance scout?”

  “Consider it done, sir.”

  “Intelligence, definitely intelligence.”

  “Thank you, sir. Oh and sir, I almost forgot one interesting characteristic of the games.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Actually sir, Captain Linda Dankese pointed it out to me. The player’s crews are either completely female or evenly mixed. Where the player has a superior officer, the officer is always female. All the opponents are male regardless of rank.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “So no Swordsman or pirate will play the games and learn from them. No Swordsman or pirate will accept taking orders from a woman. Captain Dankese has purchased copies for everyone in her command. She conducts study sessions with her crews on the tactics in the games.”

  “And what do they think?”

  “They found a few small errors, but they find the games very instructive.”

  “I wonder what the academy thinks.”

  “They have ordered copies for their students, faculty and staff.”

  The Admiral laughed, “Greg, my friend, you always were a brilliant renegade! A pain in the ass, but brilliant!”

  HOMESTEAD - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  GREG SPENT MOST of his time on the trip to Homestead with Avi. Sam and Brownie took care of the ship and its passengers. Greg and Avi maintained the same exercise routine he had established with Helen. They were obviously evenly matched and neither was to be tangled with in a back alley. The trip went smoothly. The months in transit passed quickly.

  As soon as they entered Homestead’s system, Myra hailed them for a meeting prior to bringing the passengers and cargo to the surface.

  Myra was the first to arrive on the flight deck and greeted Avi as the old friend she was. They had served a year together on a pirate interdiction task force. As Greg had suspected, Myra had, in fact, been instrumental in seeing that Avi “happened” to be patrolling near Triton when Greg arrived. Monique and Angelina quickly joined them. They greeted Avi warmly. Katherine joined them a little later. Katherine had heard of Avi by reputation and was slightly in awe of her. Helen joined them a few minutes later with Sebastian on her arm. Once she realized the nature of Avi and Greg’s relationship, she instantly became Avi’s sister in spirit. Obviously pregnant, Helen quickly became the focus of attention. Greg wondered if the warm glow on the flight deck could be seen out the ports.

  All that changed when Blondie entered. She spotted Greg with his arm around Avi’s waist and stopped at the doorway. Avi wa
s wearing the same form fitting Space Force flight suit she had worn when she had come aboard. The room went silent. Blondie’s face, normally pale, went completely white. It was as if the temperature on the flight deck dropped ten degrees.

  Avi strode to Blondie with her hand extended, “Lt. Amanda Freeman I presume. I understand your friends call you ‘Blondie’. Greg speaks of you often. I am Captain Avelina Bardwell. You can call me ‘Avi’ if you wish. How should I address you?”

  Speechless, Blondie stared at Avi for a moment. Her expression changed from shock to anger.

  Sam charged at her out of nowhere and pushed her back against the wall. “Bitch! You didn’t want him when you could have had him. Now you want him because you can’t have him. It’s too late! Back off!”

  Blondie looked down at Sam standing before her with her clenched fists on her hips and then around the rest of the room.

  Blondie’s eyes misted a little. “Please call me ‘Blondie’ like everyone else, thanks.” She looked up at Avi who was quite a bit taller and said, “I have heard some incredible stories about you.”

  “If it’s good, it’s probably a lie,” Avi said. “If it’s nasty, it’s probably true. Right, Greg?”

  “More than likely.”

  Blondie gently pushed Sam aside and offered her hand. “It is an honor to meet you, Avi. Welcome to our little home.”

  “I’m glad to be here. Shall we unload some cargo?”

  “Aye, Aye Ma’am!”

  Once the cargo had been unloaded, Helen and Sebastian took the tug back to their mountainside retreat. The rest of the flight crews assembled in the cargo ship’s galley for dinner. Other than entirely too many cooks in the kitchen, the dinner was a lighthearted and rambunctious affair.

  After the dishes were done and everyone settled, Brownie asked for everyone’s attention. “Folks, we have a problem. The fissionable material on this ship is approaching the end of its useful life. We need to refuel. I would be concerned about making another run to the central system. I could not promise we could make it back. We could get there empty. We might get home empty, but we will not make it home loaded. No one knows what happens to a ship in hyper if the reactor fails. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to find out.”

  Greg asked, “What about the rest of our ships? We have a squadron out here.”

  “I think everything in our fleet will need to be refueled within the next two to three years. If we start conserving we can stretch that for another year.”

  Greg turned to Sam, “Do you agree?”

  Sam said, “I think she is being optimistic as to how long the existing fuel will last.”

  “Computer,” Greg called. “Do you concur with Brownie’s assessment?”

  “We have discussed this. My calculations fall between Brownie’s estimate and Sam’s. If we allow a ten percent deviation, then I concur with both of their estimates.”

  “Why have you not told me this before?”

  “I tried to, sir, you didn’t listen, and neither would Captain Bardwell. Brownie spotted it without being told.”

  “Very well, I accept the reprimand.” Greg said. “We aren’t going to come up with any grand ideas tonight. Let’s meet here for dinner again tomorrow, and we should have had time to come up with some options.”

  After dinner the next evening Greg brought up the subject they all dreaded. “It’s not like we can drive up to a service station and fill it up. Can we buy what we need somewhere?”

  “We have enough money thanks to Mark’s book,” Myra said. “But anyone we could buy from is Federation, Swordsman or Pirate. There is no independent source. We might find enough for one shuttle on the black market. Most of what is out there is weapons grade, but not fuel grade.”

  “That’s comforting.” Avi said.

  “You know, we should pick up some weapons grade, too.” Greg commented.

  All heads spun around in shock. “If the Swordsmen are building the force Myra says they are and they have the battleships Mark says they have, they certainly intend to use them. If they attack us as we expect that someday they will, we need something heavy to throw at them. That takes nukes.”

  Breaking the silence that followed Greg’s pronouncement, Monique said quietly, “If we are willing to fight for it, I know where we can find fuel.”

  “Please explain,” Greg said softly.

  “Pierre built a supply depot in sector 37. It was an abandoned mining station. The base is underground and hard to find. It is usually guarded, but sometimes when they needed a large fleet for a big raid, they would leave it alone for a couple of weeks at a time.”

  “How heavily is it defended?” Greg asked.

  “If the fleet is in, it could be a few dozen ships. If it is out, could be as little as a single destroyer. No way to know without going.”

  “What about passive defenses?” Avi asked.

  “Like mines?” Monique asked.

  “Or tracking satellites, that sort of thing.”

  “No mines. Pirates aren’t good at threading through mine fields. Maybe tracking satellites.”

  “Looks like a single ship probe and stand off until clear. Everyone agree.” Those that understood what Greg said nodded. Those that did not looked mystified.

  “Computer,” Avi called, “Please calculate travel time to Sector 37 at optimal speeds.”

  “Twenty-three days at one gravity.”

  “Thank you,” Avi said.

  “Who stays, and who goes?” Greg asked.

  They decided Blondie and Katherine would stay and keep the 86 and the destroyer for defense. Monique and Angelina would take the cargo ship as an alternative vehicle to get home with if Greg’s ship failed along the way. Myra and Avi would each travel in their P I ships since the P I’s were independently hyper capable. Greg, Sam and Brownie would travel in the big cargo ship.

  Myra left first. After sufficient time for Myra’s hyper energy wave to dissipate, Avi left. Monique and Angelina followed. Greg, Sam and Brownie left last.

  The system had three planets and one of them had a single airless moon. The depot was on this moon. Monique had explained to Myra what to look for, and Myra headed for the moon. They did not detect any tracking satellites or passive sensors that might alert the defenses to their arrival.

  Myra had made a single orbit of the moon when she was hailed on an open frequency. She close to jumped out of her skin when the call came. “Federation Ship P I 1658 C, identify your personnel on board.” The voice was female, firm without being strident.

  Monique keyed her communicator, “Don’t! It’s a trap! Get out!”

  “Too late,” Myra replied, “I am in it now.”

  “Federation Ship P I 1658 C, this is the officer in charge of the planetary defense network. Identify your personnel on your ship.”

  “Lt. Myra Myrakova, Federation Space Force Pirate Interdiction Task Force active duty.”

  “Welcome, Miss Myrakova, please proceed to the landing site.”

  Greg thought he heard cheering in the background.

  “Are you prepared to guarantee me safe passage?”

  “You are guaranteed safe passage, you and your friends.”

  A voice in the background shouted, “Myra! It’s me! Jennifer!”

  “Jennifer? Jennifer Cartier? Give me proof of life!” Myra sounded excited.

  “Do you remember when we were kids, we said if we were ever in this situation I would ask you if you still wore the ring I gave you on your left big toe? I never understood that. You wear it on your right big toe.”

  “Jennifer, I’m coming in,” Myra said excitedly.

  The voice from the planet spoke again, “Federation Ship P I 1156 B, please identify your personnel on board.”

  “How do you know who we are? We have disabled our transponders,” Avi asked.

  “High powered astronomical telescopes. We can read the letters stenciled on the side of your ship. Speaking of which, Miss Myrakova, why do you only have
one skull and crossbones under your view-port? Our records show you have earned many more.”

  “Because my crew chief put it there. He refused to take it off, and I refused to let him put any more on,” Myra answered.

  “Very good. Ship P I 1156 B, please identify yourself.”

  “I am Captain Avelina Bardwell Federation Space Force Pirate Interdiction Retired.”

  “Thank you Captain, please proceed to the landing site. You are showing no pirate kills on your ship, and our records show you have many such kills on your log books.”

  “Myra and I had the same crew chief.”

  “Very good. Unidentified cargo ship Class 3 please identify your personnel.”

  “Monique LaMarche and Angelina…”

  That was as far as she got before a voice in the background screamed “Monique! M’aidez! C’est moi Avril.”

  “Avril, Comment ca va votre belle mere?”

  “Monique! Tu m’blessez. C’est horrible que vous ne me souvien! Ma mere est morte.”

  “Combien de annes?” The tone was hard and cold.

  “Dix.”

  “Bien.” Monique paused, her voice more relaxed. “Greg, Avril is my half sister. It is not a trap.”

  The voice from the ground said, “Greg? Are you really Captain Gregory Solomon Federation Space Force retired?”

  “Yes,” Greg replied.

  “According to my records, you and your ship are missing in action.”

  “Reports of my demise are exaggerated,” Greg quipped.

  “Where is Pierre LaMarche?” the voice asked with more than a little fear.

  “Reports of his demise are not exaggerated,” Greg replied.

  Cheering could be heard in the background.

  “You are welcome to land on the landing pads. You will notice that there are no ships here. We have no offensive weapons. We are at your mercy.”

  “We come to trade,” Greg said. “We wish to buy what we need and depart peacefully.”

  “We shall discuss trade once you have arrived. It is nice of you to bring your own shuttle. You will not need it. There is a cradle for your type of craft. You are not the first to bring such a ship.”