“Yeah, Guns, until they get hard feelings and tear your guts out,” Jimmy said with a smile. “Phoenix, take us home, please.”
Short Blade couldn’t sit still for an hour while the sensors were being recalibrated, so he decided to take a tour while he waited.
“Beater, I’m going to do a physical inspection of the ship. Please alert me immediately if there are any problems or if we get visitors.”
Hopping down out of the seat, he thought, I must make the height of that seat adjustable once we get home. I don’t want the crew seeing me having to jump to get in and out of my own chair.
The ugly scars from the repaired battle damage initially saddened him and he thought back to the years he’d spent maintaining the ship. Opening the hatch to the central communications cabin to inspect the AI, he was shocked to see scuttling charges wrapped around the AI. He nervously turned off the receivers that were connected to the explosives and disconnected them before removing the explosives. By the time he returned the last explosive to the munitions locker, he felt as winded as if he’d just run a marathon. He’d always thought of the Beater as his ship, but now it really was his and he would protect it with his very life if he had to.
“Beater, are any more explosive charges missing?” he asked, holding his breath.
“All explosive charges are accounted for at this time and are stored in the munitions locker. One remote detonator is missing.”
Short Blade figured the missing detonator was either still with Captain Johnson’s body or had been lost to space when the hangar had decompressed during power loss. Without intending to, he found himself standing outside his old cabin. He pressed his paw against the security pad for the hatch. Everything was as he had left it when he left to go TDY as Dan Daniels’s aide. The citations he’d received for bravery were on the wall next to the picture of him being promoted to chief petty officer. Other pictures were on the wall as well, but he was drawn to the last one, a photo of the entire crew standing together in front of the Beater.
Realizing he’d been staring at the old picture, lost in memories, for several minutes, he gave himself a good shake and turned his focus back to getting the ship online again.
“Beater, what’s the status of the sensors and other systems?” he asked on the way back to the flight deck.
“All systems are online and functioning normally. Sensors have been calibrated and confirmed with navigational charts. There are no more fluctuations from the ship’s engines. Diagnostics have found no additional discrepancies.”
“Set course for Glory. When we’re in hailing range, announce to the planetary government that the Arizona Spaceship Beater is now the Trader Ship Beater, in accordance with galactic salvage law.”
Entering the flight deck, he stopped once again to look for ghosts before hopping into the command chair.
“Beater, set up engineer’s view on main display, with navigator’s view, as well. On secondary screen, show current position and course for Glory.”
Using the command position’s input, he compared his own course for Glory and accepted the course Beater had plotted.
“Beater, engage the FTL.”
Daniels World
23 April 2129
The huge room that served as the nerve center for Gray Panthers Industries and the Gray Panthers’ combined army and fleet—where Dan monitored all activity relating to his enterprises—was softly illuminated. Old rock and roll played in the background. Dan realized as he went over the latest intelligence reports that the command center was essentially a way of stroking his own ego, since he could get all the information he needed wherever he was.
Based on what he was seeing, pirate activity was spinning out of control, and the new League of Planets didn’t seem to be doing much of anything about it. At least the league’s navy was starting to fit its ships with AIs, as he had planned.
The UN was still trying to figure a way to take control of Gray Panthers Industries, as well as the army and navy assets. Dan laughed to himself when he saw that the organization had finally been able to put together two shuttles and was planning a raid on the lunar complex again. He couldn’t believe they thought they would be able to just go there and take over the base, and the fleet along with it.
He took a break from the reports and pulled up the digital display of the city he’d decided to build for the Gray Panthers vets to retire off-world. Currently, an army of droids was tearing apart the remains of an underground city the Flem had abandoned. The new city would be constructed above ground, and at least a hundred different floor plan options would be available to new residents, each of them approximately two thousand square feet and situated on half an acre.
The houses are definitely big enough and nice enough, Dan thought, but folks will need a purpose in order to feel satisfied. I’ll have to think about what type of manufacturing and services we can engage in besides those that support the military.
“You have a call from Republic Central Bank,” the AI Grub announced. “Do you want to take it?”
“Put it through, Grub—audio-only from my side,” Dan responded. “Hello. It’s your dime. Talk to me.”
On the display was a huge red locust. The speaker was of the Kust species, which ran all banking operations in the Republic.
“Mr. Daniels, this is First Officer Plat of Republic Central Bank. I hope you are well.”
Dan was amused as he watched the locust’s mouth move out of sync with the translated message. It reminded him of the old martial arts movies from Earth.
“It’s been a while, Plat. What can I do for you?”
“We’ve heard that you’re demobilizing your fleet. I’ve been authorized to buy as many of your ships as you are willing to sell.”
As Dan listened to the offer, he wished he could interpret the locust’s facial expressions and body language.
“I’m sorry, Plat, but the ships aren’t for sale. They’re part of our strategic reserve. Why would the Republic be interested in our ships, when it already has ships that are superior?”
“Even the Republic likes a bargain. Your ships are not very old, and we’ve discovered how well-built they are. You used top-quality materials in their construction. Also, the fact that they’re equipped with class-one AIs makes them very attractive, since they require only minimal crews.”
“Well, if I decide to sell any ships, I’ll be sure you have first option. Just out of curiosity, if I had a ship the size of a Libra cruiser, what kind of offer could you make?”
“I’d need to confer with a naval procurement officer, but I’m guessing we would offer you the cost of building the ship plus thirty percent, to be paid in either credits or trade material. We’d be interested in other types of ships, as well.”
“Thank you, Plat. If we decide to sell, you’ll be the first we notify. Goodbye.”
Dan smiled as he thought about the conversation. Then he had a nagging feeling that something must wrong, for the Republic to seem so desperate for ships. He put those thoughts aside when Juanita commed him to let him know that dinner was ready. Heading out of the command center, he didn’t realize that he’d missed the last intel report about several ships and their crews disappearing without any clues.
Central space dock, planet Glory
24 April 2129
Harve sat in the wardroom savoring the Earth drink coffee. The captain of the Vengeance was rumored to be addicted to it, especially with cream, and made it a standing order that there would always be a pot of it available. The day ahead was going to be a long one, now that the fabricator had been installed. Immediately after the fabricator had been installed he had directed the maintenance shift to make enough parts to build a dozen droids and then to assemble them. When they’d finished for the day, twelve droids were plugged in and getting their initial charge. Today, he would have the AI from the ship docked next to the Vengeance bring the droids online and assist in the installation of the Vengeance’s AI. When he finished his coffee, h
e headed to engineering to prepare for when the dayshift workers arrived.
The lift stopped at the engineering deck, and as Harve got out the lights along the ceiling went out. He waited a few minutes for them to come back on or the emergency lighting to come on, but when neither did, he reached for the bulkhead to feel his way in the dark. Just about the time he sensed the presence of someone else, he felt a paw slam into his face. As he flew backward from the blow he saw flashes of light and pain tore through his head. After landing on the deck he reached into his pocket for his button knife. Pulling it out, he hit the button on the handle and the blade slid out almost ten inches.
“The Libra wants to play, does he? Put the knife away, MO Harve, or we may not let you live.”
The Jacka’s use of his name and the fact that he was using night vision goggles sent a shiver down Harve’s spine.
“Libra, you will stop asking questions about supplies and things that don’t concern you. Devote your time to your duties. You’ve proved your loyalty to the Fire fleet and the League of Planets. The work you’re doing now is the reason you’re still alive.”
Harve hunkered down on one knee, ready to spring once he was sure of where the speaker was, but another assailant kicked him in the back of the head, causing him such pain he lost consciousness.
When he woke up he felt nauseated and his head was racked with pain—as was pretty much every other part of his body. He sensed he was being carried, and it made him want to throw up. Opening his swollen eyes, he felt more pain from the brightness of the lights.
“What’s going on?” he barely whispered, surprised by how soft his own voice was.
“Sir, we found you outside of engineering. We’re taking you to the medic’s station. You look like you got trampled by a herd of draft animals. The ship is on security one alert and the entire crew is searching for the lowlifes that attacked you.”
The junior engineer, hardly more than a kid, looked like he was staring at death itself as he spoke. Harve closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall back to sleep, hoping the pain would be gone when he woke up.
Harve opened his eyes and could feel that his face was wrapped in bandages. The light was low and he could smell the plants they grew there for medicinal purposes, along with the scent of strong cleaning oils. Looking through the narrow slits in the bandages, he could see that he was in the ship’s medical bay. He was bandaged from his head almost to his toes. He turned his head slightly to look around the room and was surprised that he felt no pain. Instead, it seemed like he was in a fog, unable to feel much of anything at all.
“Those were professionals that worked you over, MO Harve. My guess is it was League of Planets secret police. They hurt you every way they could without inflicting any major injuries. Do you know why they paid you a visit?”
Harve was finally able to turn his head enough to see that it was his captain who was talking. His voice sounded faint and tinny, like it was coming from a broken speaker.
“Sir, they were unhappy that we’re not following our instructions—that we aren’t recovering supplies from the Libra navy depots in the order we were told. Then they commended me for being loyal to the Fire fleet and the League of Planets before they knocked me out and beat the stuffing out of me.”
“You’re lucky. I’ve heard of them taking victims and keeping them awake while they broke bones for hours. The doctor said you have only soft tissue damage. You’ll be available for duty in a couple days.”
“What are we going to do about those secret bastards attacking me, sir?”
“Officially, you were robbed by incompetent crooks that were scared off before they got any of your valuables. Your button knife is under your pillow. I’ve established a security detail to make sure no one can sneak on board the ship.” Bending down close to Harve and speaking softly, the captain added, “I’d be surprised if we had less than a dozen secret police on our crew. Welcome to the Fire fleet, maintenance officer.”
The Beater, en route to planet Glory
24 April 2129
Short Blade was trying to compare the sensor data to the visual screens as his home planet came into visual range. It bothered him that he couldn’t bring himself to trust the ship as he had in the past. That trust would have to be earned again.
“Central space port, this is Beater.”
“Go ahead, Beater.”
“I am Short Blade of the Claw Clan. Request authorization to land at Claw Clan Province. The Beater is my new ship. Please add it to your records.”
“Permission to land at Claw Clan Province is granted. You’ll need to register your new ship before your next departure. Welcome home.”
“Beater, when you got your updates from the Phoenix, did they include the location of my ranch on the north continent?”
“Location of the ranch and all locations frequented by the Phoenix have been updated in navigation control.”
“Thank you, Beater. Please take us to the ranch. Ensure that the entry into the atmosphere is as gentle as possible. I don’t want to take any chances with your hull repairs coming undone.”
Short Blade brought up the ship’s telemetry and monitored the status of all systems with suspicious as the Beater began entry into the atmosphere. There was no sense of motion, the inertial dampeners ensuring a smooth ride. Seeing the external hull temperatures rising, Short Blade began to sweat as he imagined the hull repairs breaching. When the external temperatures started to lower again, he released the breath he’d been holding and relaxed as the shuttle continued its descent through the clouds. Familiar landmarks soon became easier to spot in the early morning light. As the ranch became visible, Short Blade noticed that an area by the equipment shed had been leveled out and a new landing pad had been built. He dismissed any hesitation he had about using it when he saw Namid run to it and light up a homemade smoke pot. She then ran back about twenty feet, thinking she was at a safe distance. As the ship landed, she found herself on her backside, laughing from the excitement of watching the ship land and being blown over.
“That looks uncomfortable,” Guns said as he reached down and took hold of her right arm. Jimmy grabbed her other arm and they pulled her to her feet. All three of them watched the Beater’s ramp drop. Short Blade stood in the entryway, looking relieved, yet preoccupied.
“I survived. Is the shuttle ready for launch?” Short Blade asked, ignoring the pleasantries. “Jimmy, get in touch with Lieutenant Commander Poland. Send him all of our data on the Beater and tell him I want him to tear her down and put her back together again in conjunction with a level-one depot inspection. He’s the only one who knows more about the Beater than I do, since he did the upgrades on her. After I get a good night’s sleep, I’ll be departing for Earth to pick him up.”
“Can I come with you, Short Blade?” Namid asked. “I need to get veterinary supplies for the cows.” She worried that he was stretching himself to the breaking point.
“Yes, Namid, you may come with me—as long as you promise you’ll come back here when it’s time to leave,” he said with a half smile that Namid didn’t see.
“Boss, we have one other task to take care of before you leave. Commander Johnson. I was thinking that little hill east of here would be a nice place for a small cemetery,” Jimmy suggested.
The thought of having his body buried after his death seemed stupid to Short Blade. Jackas burned the bodies of the dead to free their spirit. But, he decided he would honor his friends’ superstitious nonsense.
“Have a hole dug up there tonight, and in the morning one of you can officiate the ceremony to bury his body. Namid and I will depart afterward.”
There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, so Short Blade headed for the house and the promise of sleep.
“I wonder what the odds are that he returned safe, with only field repairs done to the ship? I bet he had a level-ten pucker factor when he entered the planet’s atmosphere. Why’d he risk it, do ya think?” Jimmy asked Guns.
“I’ll use the communications center on the Beater,” Jimmy replied. “It’ll easier that way to pull up all of the specs to send. Namid, before you leave in the morning, I need to give you a list of vital supplies to bring back from Earth.”
“Sure, Jimmy. I’m sure you’re running low on Jack Daniel’s by now. Okay if I check out the ship?” Namid asked.
“That’s fine,” Jimmy said as he turned to walk toward the ship. “Just stick with me. We don’t know if there are any surprises.”.
As they entered the Beater, Jimmy remembered that it was still a warship. .
“Beater, this is Namid. She’s our new medical officer. She’ll need open access to the ship, especially if the command ‘repel boarders’ is given. Will that be a problem?”
“Hello, Jimmy. Adding Namid to the ship’s access roster is not a problem. The request will need to be confirmed by a ship’s officer, though,” Beater answered.
“Go ahead and comm Short Blade. He’ll authenticate the request. Come on, Namid, let’s get it out of your system. The Beater’s a good size for what we do, but it’s still a small fish in a big pond. Maybe the next time we’re near Earth I can get you on one of the big ships, like the Nike or the Bia.”
Jimmy walked Namid through the ship at a brisk pace, pointing out areas of interest. When they got to the flight deck, he sat down at the sensor operator’s station and brought up communications to draft a message to Poland on behalf of Short Blade.
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