Gray Panthers Captain Short Blade

by David Guenther

  “Well, we do have the defense of being inebriated when we made the choice. But at this point it doesn’t really matter—we’ve committed ourselves to a new journey and tendered our resignations. Now take your coffee and get back to your room and pack. Couple of hours and we’re gone.”

  Two hours later they were in line to board the Bia. The spaceship had started its life as the Queen Mary VI ocean liner but had been converted to a spaceship during the Libra War because of its size and potential as a troop hauler.

  “This is either going to be one huge wedding, or Dixie is getting pretty popular,” Jimmy muttered as the long queue inched forward.

  The two young men in line just ahead of them were holding hands as they talked and laughed. As the line continued to progress, the shorter one turned around and tried to strike up a conversation.

  “Are you heading for Dixie for the free land too?” he asked, looking first at Jimmy and then at Guns.

  “No, we’re mercenaries,” Guns said matter-of-factly. “Dixie’s having a civil war, and they’re paying top dollar for hired guns. They’re also drafting everyone who goes there for the free land.”

  Others in the line overheard Guns’s remark and within minutes numerous arguments were underway. Soon the line had almost disappeared.

  “Guns, sometimes you can be a real asshole,” Jimmy said with a sideways glance. “But I’m not complaining today.”

  Because they were veterans of the Gray Panthers, each of the men was billeted to his own stateroom. They discovered that the Bia was still a fully functional warship, although a small section of the ship had been renovated to include accommodations for civilian passengers. Several clubs, a couple of restaurants, and a pool promised to make the trip an enjoyable one.

  The Phoenix, en route to Dixie

  6 April 2129

  Short Blade was beginning to feel the walls closing in on him, and there were still almost four days of FTL travel before he reached Dixie. The fact that he was going to yet another planet where he would not be welcomed didn’t help. The urge to hit the milk was strong, but memories of the drunken Libra draftees he had once worked with kept him away from the bottle. They had sometimes spent days totally intoxicated while on duty.

  Looking toward the future, he still didn’t have a plan to meet with any Dixie officials. He wasn’t sure how much to offer in trade for the AIs, though he did know what he was going to ask for the AIs once he had them. He was going to demand a monopoly on all milk products. He’d be set for life. He began to feel better as he imagined being rich.

  More immediately, once he arrived on Dixie he would need to find suitable material to uniform his warriors. He wanted to make sure it was obvious to everyone that they were his and not part of a clan. He decided he’d go to a sports store to get the material, so they would look like they were ready for the field instead of a parade. With that settled, he still needed to figure out a wedding gift for his old friend.

  The Bia, orbiting Dixie

  10 April 2129

  Guns and Jimmy watched in amazement the variety of people waiting for shuttles to depart the Bia. Honeymooners. Those who came to see another world. Veterans showing their families what they did during the war. The most interesting were the missionaries who were ready to spread the word, not realizing that the main religions of the old South were alive and well in Dixie.

  “You two, come on up here,” a Dixie shuttle pilot ordered, pointing to Guns and Jimmy.

  “Hop on in, guys. Welcome to Dixie. We keep an eye out for veterans and put them at the front of the lines. We remember.” Others in the line expressed their unhappiness at the preferential treatment.

  “See, Jimmy, I told you to wear your uniform.”

  Both men smiled and thanked the shuttle pilot as they strapped themselves into their seats.

  “Stay away from the new hotels on the west side of town. If you go to the old part on the east side, they give discounts to vets. West side is all tourist crap,” the pilot advised.

  The shuttle ride was different from being on a Gray Panthers shuttle. The limited inertial dampeners didn’t restrict the sensation caused by the G’s the pilot pulled as she played follow the leader with the shuttle ahead of her. Jimmy and Guns shouted encouragement to the pilot, ignoring the white-knuckled passengers who were looking for bags to get sick in.

  The bag drag to customs was yet another source of entertainment. While waiting their turn, the two vets couldn’t help but laugh at the antics of those who were processing through.

  “No one told me you were going to look through my bags!” a middle-aged man protested as his bags were opened, revealing lingerie and sex toys. The inspectors ignored his complaints and handed him back his luggage.

  “Reason for your visit, sir?” the inspector asked Jimmy, giving him a once-over as he waited for an answer.

  “We’re both here for Ambassador Scholl’s wedding. We served together during the war.”

  The inspector glanced at Guns and then back at Jimmy, and then motioned for them to proceed without looking in their bags.

  Walking out of the spaceport, the men gazed at the string of cabs waiting out in front. The one they chose was the size of a minivan. The interior smelled of disinfectant and the driver’s cheap cologne.

  “Where can I take you gentlemen today?” the driver asked, already sizing them up.

  “Take us to the east side. I can’t remember the name of the hotel. We don’t need the long way there, either,” Guns replied.

  The driver gave them another look and turned his attention to the drive ahead. There’ll be other Earthers I can screw over, he told himself. The drive through the city was unremarkable, the scenery looking like that in virtually any city they’d been to before.

  “Here you are, gentlemen. The Capitol House is one of the nicer hotels, with reasonable rates. I wouldn’t screw a fellow veteran.”

  The fare was a problem neither of the men had anticipated. They had gold coins and greenbacks, but no local currency. Jimmy pulled out his multi-tool and made the cabbie an offer.

  “How about I trade you my tool here for the ride and one hundred dollars? Be the only one on the planet with one.”

  The driver opened the blades and didn’t seem impressed.

  “I’ll give you twenty-five for it.”

  “Make it fifty and we have a deal,” Jimmy said, starting to appear agitated.

  “Okay, ride and fifty!” The driver tried to look pissed off as he played with the main blade.

  “Wasn’t that a little expensive for a ride, Jimmy?” Guns asked as the driver pulled away.

  Jimmy opened his bag and pulled out an identical multi-tool. “Not when they’re cheap generic crap from China. Remember, always have trinkets for the natives. Now let’s get a room and figure out where we need to go tomorrow.”

  Paying for the room was easier than they had thought it would be. The desk clerk explained that credit cards used on Earth were accepted on Dixie, since a First Gray Panthers Bank had opened there awhile back.

  When Guns mentioned that they were there for Ambassador Scholl’s wedding, the desk clerk said complimentary transportation to the event was available through the hotel, adding that the wedding was considered the biggest social event of the year.

  The Phoenix, orbiting Dixie

  10 April 2129

  Short Blade was furious. He had been cleared to enter Dixie’s orbit as a prelude to landing, but now a pair of destroyers and four shuttles had taken up position around him, just waiting for the opportunity to blast him. He decided to grab at a straw.

  “Comm, Ambassador Scholl!” he practically screamed.

  Scotty wondered who could be contacting him via his old implant. “Ambassador Scholl speaking.”

  “This is Short Blade. I’m in orbit, in my ship, the Phoenix. The Dixians are getting ready to blast me. Can you stop them?”

  The agitation in Short Blade’s voice was genuine and kicked Scotty into gear. Picking up the
red phone, he waited tersely while it rang.

  “Command Center,” a bored voice answered.

  “This is Ambassador Scholl. Connect me with whoever is in charge, now!”

  Within moments, another voice began to speak. “This is Colonel Woods. Good day Amba—”

  “There’s an Earth shuttle in orbit, the Phoenix, that’s about to be blasted by your ships,” Scotty interrupted. “If that happens, it’ll be an act of war. The pilot just called me. He’s a dear friend and comrade of mine. Why are you showing such provocation?”

  “Sir, the Phoenix is being piloted by a Jacka—”

  “Yes, Colonel, the most highly decorated, highest-ranking Jacka in the Gray Panthers. I have ordered the Bia to counterattack all ships that fire on the shuttle. Do you really want to start a war today?”

  Scotty could hear shouts and commands in the background, and almost immediately the colonel came back on the line.

  “Ambassador, the ships have been ordered to stand down, and I will have one of my shuttles act as an escort to avoid any more problems.”

  Scotty could hear the panic in the colonel’s voice and decided to use it to his advantage.

  “Colonel, have the escort ensure that the pilot is directed to Culpepper Plantation. I have a large shuttle pad area that is adequate for the shuttle to land. I’ll be waiting to welcome my old comrade.” Scotty felt the sweat sting his eyes as relief washed over him. He still wasn’t sure if his bluff might be called. “Comm, Short Blade.”

  “Short Blade here, Ambassador. They’re no longer actively targeting me.”

  “Do you have the ability to track me, Short Blade?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.” Short Blade was puzzled as to where this was going.

  “Home in on my comm device. I have a parking location for you.”

  “Yes, sir. Just waiting for clearance from Dixie.”

  Scotty contacted the Bia. “Commander Erickson, please switch to diplomatic code.”

  “Ambassador Scholl, we have switched to diplomatic code.”

  “There’s a shuttle in orbit, the Phoenix, that is crewed by a Gray Panther. Please make it known to the Dixians that you are concerned about his well-being.”

  As the commander adjusted the Bia’s orbit to bring it within ten miles of the Phoenix, the shuttle received its instructions.

  “Phoenix, you are authorized to land on Dixie. Please follow your honor guard and accept our apologies for any misunderstandings.”

  Before Short Blade could reply, he saw the shuttle pull up at his twelve o’clock position and then wiggle, indicating that he was to follow it as it began a slow descent into the Dixie atmosphere.

  “Thank you, Control. I’m following my honor guard now.”

  Though the atmosphere was very rough, the Phoenix’s advanced inertial dampeners and artificial gravity kept Short Blade from feeling any turbulence or strain from the Gs being pulled. Ten minutes later, he was over a large landing pad.

  “Phoenix, this is Dixie Control. Please prepare to land, and contact us when you are ready to depart. Enjoy your stay.”

  “Thank you, Control. Phoenix, out.”

  Exhausted from the encounter, Short Blade had the AI land the shuttle. As soon as he opened the hatch, he saw Scotty standing there.

  “Damn, Short Blade. That’s an interesting shuttle you have there. I thought you’d be flying a standard shuttle—this thing is three times the size. Must be a bitch for long flights … like coming here to Dixie. Thanks for making the trip. The gesture means a lot to me.”

  Short Blade was caught off guard by Scotty’s display of emotion, but he knew what to do with the old pilot.

  “Would you like to see my ship?”

  In a flash, Scotty was up the small ramp, evaluating everything in sight.

  “Nice big cargo area. Is that three cabins you have?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued on until he was in the cockpit.

  “I like the way the controls are laid out. I see it’s set up for a two-man crew as an option. How long would a trip from, say, your home world to here take?” This time he waited for Short Blade’s reply.

  “The Phoenix has an FTL, so it took about five days. She also has a class-one AI, so the longer trips aren’t as exhausting. She still feels small on long hauls.” Short Blade didn’t try to hide the pride he had for his shuttle.

  “I’m impressed! Have you had any problems with pirates? With this beauty, I guess you can just hop if you find yourself in trouble. I envy you your new life, Short Blade.”

  Short Blade couldn’t believe that the old pilot, now an ambassador, would envy him.

  “Well, if I get in trouble, I have a forward-facing beamer and an aft-facing beamer. I also have hard points on the hull that I can attach a variety of weapons systems to if need be. I just don’t have them.”

  Scotty looked at the shuttle again with narrowed eyes and then back at Short Blade.

  “Where the hell did you get that, anyway? Hmm? It’s definitely a GP design based on Flem technology. Daniels worked out a deal for you, I bet. Did he take your soul in trade?” Scotty asked, imagining only the worst.

  “Dan Daniels gave me the shuttle because he knew I had no life to go back to. I am a second-class citizen in my world, and an alien only to be distrusted on Earth, and most likely imprisoned on Dixie. He gave me a new lease on life after the Gray Panthers.”

  “I’m happy for you, and still envious. Hey, I have plenty of room up at the plantation. Do you want to stay up there, or would you prefer your shuttle?” Scotty started feeling guilty because he hadn’t realized the harshness that Short Blade faced.

  “You must have much to do for your wedding, so I’ll stay here in my shuttle. Can I help you with your preparations?”

  Scotty could see that Short Blade was being genuine with his offer, and he appreciated it.

  “Thank you. I have everything under control. You’re safer here in the shuttle than you would be around all of the women involved with the wedding. If you need anything, you just let me know.”

  As he walked back toward the plantation, Scotty began to think about his life aboard the Beater, when he was a simple fighter pilot.

  Culpepper Plantation, Dixie

  11 April 2129

  Scotty hadn’t slept the entire night, and he now looked out the bay window in trepidation as two hundred white folding chairs were being set up on the lawn behind the house. He imagined himself a prisoner watching as the scaffolding was being assembled for his hanging. On one side of the lawn, a large tent had already been set up. Inside the tent, tables were still being strategically placed. He examined the champagne bottle in his hand before taking another long swig.

  As he contemplated the day ahead, a transport arrived out in front. He wondered if it was one of his idiot future relatives or an inbred Dixian that didn’t know how to tell time. Going to the front room to look out the window, he couldn’t believe what he saw.

  “Lieutenant Scholl, where the hell are you?” Guns bellowed, obviously still feeling no pain from the night before.

  “That’s Major Scholl now, Chief. But I’m retired,” Scotty shouted back, still holding the open bottle by the neck as he ran down the stairs and hugged both men. Jimmy helped him let go of the bottle, took a deep swig, and handed it to Scotty empty.

  “We have a few more of those out back, I believe,” Scholl said, a little loudly and with a slight slur.

  Jimmy and Guns exchanged a quick glance, both realizing the task ahead of them.

  “How about some coffee, Scotty?” Guns suggested.

  Scotty shrugged and led them to the kitchen, which was a beehive of activity. Dozens of caterers were weaving in and out and around one another. Jimmy spied the coffee pot and filled three large mugs.

  “C’mon, Scotty. Let’s go back outside and get some fresh air,” Guns said, gently grabbing Scotty’s arm and following Jimmy through the door to a picnic table that had been moved out of the way to make room for the guest se
ating.

  As the men sat drinking their coffee, Scotty put his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table. “What the hell am I doing getting married at this age?” he asked, looking first at Guns and then at Jimmy. “My girl is twenty-four, for chrissakes! She should be my granddaughter.”

  “You’re right,” Jimmy told him. “Let’s get you to the Bia. In less than a week, you can be back in Wisconsin working on your farm, and you can find yourself a nice seventy-year-old woman to marry. Then, in five years, maybe ten, you can bury her.”

  “Man, you got a do-over in life,” Guns chimed in. “You’re a war hero. You’re famous on this planet. In another hour or so, you’ll have a gorgeous wife. You’ve got an outstanding plantation here. What the hell is wrong with you? Those nanites in your body will keep you twenty-five forever, except for that ugly kisser of yours.”

  Before Guns could continue, a familiar figure appeared from around the corner of the house.

  “Short Blade!” Jimmy and Guns shouted at the same time, getting up and running to their old comrade. They hugged him hard and each draped an arm around him as they walked back to Scotty.

  Short Blade was stunned, both from the hug attack and the immense pleasure it brought him. “It’s good to see you guys. Isn’t it great that Lieutenant Scholl is getting married?”

  The look he got from Jimmy almost sent him into shock again.

  “Scotty, you are getting married today, aren’t you?” Short Blade asked, sounding hurt.

  “Well, I’m not sure there, Shor—”

  Angry, Short Blade didn’t give him a chance to finish. “I’ve seen your mate, Scotty. She’s young and healthy. They tell me for a human, she’s pretty. You have someone you can share your life with, but you’re going to toss away something I’ll never get a chance to have. What about your mate’s feelings when you tell her she’s not worthy of you? You will obviously use other words when you talk to her, but those are what she’ll hear.”

  Scotty just sat and stared at his coffee mug, taking in what Short Blade had just said.