The Lost Gunboat Captain

by J. D. Oppenheim

  Jolo waited for him to get closer. He could tell by the man's movements, at first quick and twitchy like he was expecting an attack, but now slower and more relaxed, that he thought Jolo was dead. He sat down on the seat and relaxed a bit. And as the bike edged closer, his face still aimed down into the water, Jolo stepped out from the bushes onto the shore and pulled out his gun.

  "Looking for me?" said Jolo.

  But the man did not have time to answer. His head turned to face Jolo, the light of the moon reflecting his shiny forehead. And that's exactly where Jolo's bullet went.

  The man's arms went limp and his body arched backwards, as he slowly, almost gracefully, fell into the water. The hover bike remained a foot over the surface. But the man in black, caught up in the gentle current, floated away.

  Jolo looked up and now there were four ships: two big cruisers on either side of the ravine and the Valhalla and Jessica in the middle. He worried about George. He pulled the hover bike into the cover of the bushes and was about to take off when he saw another person falling down from behind the Jessica.

  He landed in the water, much like Jolo had just done, and started heading to the other side of the river. Jolo called out and George turned in the waist deep water and headed towards him. Jolo looked up just as both Cruisers and the Valhalla had backed off the Jessica. Suddenly the dark sky erupted in bright red as both cruisers unleashed their cannons at Jolo’s ship. “Run!” he yelled at George, gesturing with both hands, as the Jessica tilted at an odd angle, an ion cannon blast tearing a hole into her fuselage. The engines failed instantly and she broke in half and started falling.

  Jolo jumped on the hover bike and wound up the thruster. A very calm-faced George hopped on the back and Jolo punched it. One of Jessica’s main engines smashed down into the water right behind them with an earth shaking boom, sending a hot wave of water to either side of the stream. He looked back once as both halves of the fuselage crashed into the stream, but by then Jolo was twenty meters down the ravine, gliding a few feet over the water and gaining speed. The ground shook when the full weight of his ship hit the bottom of the ravine and he felt a sharp pang of pain and regret. He’d lost the Jessica.

  He put his head down and raced towards the safety of Marco's house.

  Corsair

  Duval

  “Too many jumps,” said Hurley. The whole crew was in the library standing around the 3D map. The tiny moon on the edge of known space the Vellosians called Montag was in the center.

  “We could send a refuel ship out ahead,” said Koba.

  “Nope, they inspect every ship in the sector three jumps beyond Bakanhe Grana space,” said Marco. “During the war, the Feds made a resupply line and made it out to Montag, but paid dearly for it.”

  “We just need a single ship that’ll make eight jumps and be able to break through the outer patrols,” said Jolo. “That old Racellian pod I flew in on made it.”

  “Bigger ships ain’t been able to do it,” said Hurley. “A freighter can go five tops, then it’s recharge time, or float in space until the pirates come. And them bastards’ll take everything down to your last pair o’ dirty skivvies.”

  “There was one ship that could’ve done it,” said Marco. “Computer, pull up the last known sketch of the Leviathan project from the Fed archive.”

  “Mr. Vargas, have you been pilfering into Federation databases?” said Katy. He just smiled.

  Up popped a 3D image of a large war ship with four front mounted ion cannons and a larger beam weapon mounted topside that no one had seen before. Marco had the computer overlay a Federation Defender next to it so they could see the scale. The ship was enormous.

  “The Fed was working on a ship to take out the BG home worlds. A ship that could break past the outer defenses and penetrate deep into BG territory. It was to be called the Leviathan, and it was claimed they’d figured out how to get ten jumps out of it.” They all stood around and marveled at the thing, slowly circling around them. “But then the war ended and the plans were scrapped.” Another quiet moment as they mourned the loss of a great ship that would never be.

  Katy broke the silence. “That looks like the Corsair.”

  “The Fed party boat?” said Greeley. “That shiny big-ass, girly boat, slow as one of them Kanabun sub-space transports?”

  “Yeah, that shining symbol of Fed-BG solidarity that stays in orbit just over Sol,” said Katy. “The dignitaries flock there. The president meets the BG Emperor there. I used to make trash runs to that thing and they’d make us wait for hours until the upper crust Fed ships had fully disembarked so they wouldn’t have to get near the shit down at the bottom. That’s a shiny symbol of Fed greed, is all,” said Katy.

  "When they built that Corsair monster, they shoulda been buildin’ the Leviathan," said Hurley.

  "Well maybe Katy’s on to something," said Jolo. "Computer, overlay the Corsair on top of the Leviathan."

  The computer overlaid the Corsair on the Leviathan and everyone stared at the two ships. The Corsair’s nose was sharper and longer than the Leviathan and the middle was a little wider with subtle wings. The were both big ships, but didn’t look anything alike. The Corsair had a big observation deck right where the large beam weapon was supposed to be and the surface of the ship was different.

  "Ain't the same ship," said Greely. "No gun turrets on that party boat. Only got one thruster in the rear. One of them big Sonic 883 jobs that the Nam Corp. freighters use. Those engines are made to push a heavy load, real slow."

  "Yeah, and the 883 goes three jumps tops, before you got to rejuice," said Hurley.

  "I'm not so sure," said Marco. "Computer, how many months after the end of the war did the Corsair officially launch?"

  "The Federation ship Corsair, officially launched 73 days after the peace accord was signed between the Federation planets and the BG."

  "So the Corsair must have been in production prior to the signing of the BG accord. It takes a long time to build a ship that big," said Jolo.

  "Years," said Hurley.

  "Computer, access the Federation archive. Pull up any known references to the Corsair prior to the signing of the peace accord."

  Everyone waited quietly as the two ships, superimposed over each other, circled in the center of the room.

  Finally the computer responded: there are no references to the Corsair prior to the signing of the Accord.

  “So the shining symbol of BG-Fed harmony, a ship that should have taken a few years to build, was whipped up in 73 days?” said Katy. “Ain’t buyin’ that.”

  “Still ain’t seein’ it,” said Greeley. “Them ships ain’t the same.”

  “Computer,” said Marco. “Round off the Corsair’s nose and replace the observation deck with a large beam weapon.” And suddenly the two ships did look alike. Everyone moved in together to get a better look.

  “Computer,” said Greeley. “Get rid of that fancy cowling shite along the fuselage of the Corsair and add two more thrusters in the rear.”

  And the Corsair became the Leviathan right before their eyes.

  “I bet them thrusters on the Corsair are still there. They just got ‘em hidden. That ain’t storage space right there,” he said, his finger reaching into the 3D drawing, little lines on his hand. “They just threw some metal around the jets.”

  “So how do we steal it?” said Jolo.

  “Impossible,” said Katy. “It’s in Fed space for crying out loud. In Sol of all places.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t stay in Sol,” said Koba.

  “Computer, pull up the itinerary of the Federation ship Corsair.” A list popped up. Most were planets close to Sol, but there was one entry that stood out.

  “It’s going to Iris in two weeks,” said Katy. “Small planet, out of the way, agricultural.”

  “Perfect,” said Jolo. “We’ll take her there.”

  “How?” said Katy. “They’ll have at least one Defender and a bunch of smaller ships that could put a
big hurt on the Jessica. I mean, uh, if we still…” She put her hand on Jolo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about your ship.”

  Jolo sighed. “That ship was never really mine, anyway.” He looked at Katy. “I’ll find a way to get there.” And then he turned to the rest. “This is my fight. You don’t have to come.” But no one moved.

  “I think we’re all in,” said Marco. “And I think I gotta fix for your no ship problem.”

  ……

  After the meeting Jolo found George in the atrium.

  "We may have found a way to make it all the way to the BG home world," said Jolo. George turned and looked at him, but the usual glimmer in his eye was gone, his head slightly bowed. His one arm resting in his lap.

  "You look sad," said Jolo.

  "Thank you. Most synthetic life forms do not show feelings, do not have feelings. But I believe I am feeling something. Close to sadness."

  "Your arm?"

  "I suppose."

  "Can't it be, fixed?"

  "Yes. But unfortunately those who could fix it, the Velossians, have all been wiped clean from the face of the galaxy."

  "You did well. There's something to be said for taking out two BG warriors."

  "Thank you, again."

  There was a moment of silence and Jolo grabbed two small cherry tomatoes from one of Marcus’s plants. He offered one to George. George held it in his hand in front of his face, tilted his head.

  "It is a beautiful thing, and I could pretend to eat it, but it would merely come out the other end, unprocessed. That's not how I recharge." He handed it back to Jolo. "Is it worth it?" said George. Jolo just looked at him and shrugged, not understanding the question. "I mean this quest to find a girl that no one has heard of. Is it worth it?"

  "I can't get her out of my mind. The BG have her and I must save her," Jolo said. His hands balled into fists and his back and stiffened. And then he relaxed a little. "Katy says it's love."

  "Or something else entirely," said George.

  "If we go, are you in?"

  "I am but half of my former self."

  "Yeah, but still twice as much as any human."

  "I will go, and with my one arm, defend Jolo Vargas, my brother." And he bowed deeply.

  ……

  “Okay, here’s how we are gonna do it,” Katy said, spreading out a large detailed drawing of the Corsair’s levels. “I think Jolo and I have worked out a solid plan. The jump drives are located here,” she said, pointing to 5L, the fifth level below main deck.

  “That’s all fine and dandy, but how’s that help us get the ship?” said Greeley.

  “That’s just it,” said Jolo. “We don’t take the ship, we take the drive. Taking the ship is too risky, the drive is easier.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Koba. “That thing weighs a ton. You can’t lift it. Not even George, with both arms.”

  “No worries, I’m just a synth, I have no feelings,” said George, slapping Koba on the back just a touch too hard.

  “I didn’t mean—” Koba started to say but was cut off.

  “We don’t carry it out,” said Jolo. At this point Katy started to grin. She held everyone in suspense, still smiling and nodding her head.

  “Well?” said Hurley.

  “We let the trash bots do it,” she said, still grinning. “All we gotta do is get a Fed issue trash container around it and the bots will send it right down to 6L here.” She pointed to a spot on the map at the very bottom of the ship towards the rear.

  “Just like the bunghole of a yasugo fish like we used to catch back on my homeworld, Hudson,” said Greeley.

  “Thank you for the color commentary,” said Katy. “Jolo and I will steal a trash boat from the docks and run right up to the, uh—”

  “Bunghole,” said Greeley.

  “The trash bay connector,” said Katy. “We sneak in via the first trash run, grab the drive, have the trash bots bring it to the hauler during the refuse transfer.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t just pick the drive up and toss it into the trash, it has to be extracted. There’s protocol. It’s connected to the ship’s engineering section, into the ship’s computer, to the engines of course…” said Koba.

  “Yeah, he’s right,” said Hurley.

  “I can do it,” said Jolo.

  “You don’t know how to extract a Fed jump drive,” said Koba.

  Computer, Jolo thought. Display Federation manual, search for jump drive removal.

  Ship class?

  Galaxy class or larger, thought Jolo.

  Instantly a detailed list popped into Jolo’s head. He began reading aloud: “First shutdown power to primary grid at base of unit. Primary is offline when indicator light turns red on the forward status screen. Next, remove computer link cable via Fed issue 35mm hex spanner. One clockwise turn while pressing the release jumper will disengage the aft—”

  “Okay, okay,” said Koba.

  “So, y’all just gonna tell the engineers down there to kindly step aside while y’all jack the drive? I figure me and Betsy might could get in there and help clear the room, so to speak,” said Greeley.

  “Betsy?” said Katy.

  “Yeah,” said Greeley, rubbing the wooden stock of his sawed-off shotgun, a gift from Marco.

  “Yeah, I was thinking you and George, and uh, Betsy, could stir things up on an upper level, say, in the ballroom or the lounge. Draw the security detail your way and Katy and I will clear the engineering room.”

  “Remember, the Corsair’s trip to Iris is mainly to check some recent repairs so they’ll be running a skeleton crew and will not have as many passengers on board. They’ll have up to 50,000 people on board during conferences and meetings in Sol, but there should be far fewer people in Iris,” said Marco.

  “Katy and I will be wearing Fed engineering coveralls, and George and Greeley will be service staff,” said Jolo.

  He paused for a moment in case there were any other questions, then ended the meeting. “Okay, we’ll hammer out the finer points tomorrow. In the meantime, get some sleep and get ready.”

  What a Frog Doesn’t Know Can’t Kill Him

  Bakanhe Grana Homeworlds

  Warumon 5, Humanoid Synthesis and Production Facility

  In the days after his separation from Jamis, Merthon stayed quiet and obedient. He immersed himself in work. Caring for the Emperor’s children was time consuming and required all of his faculties, but it was what he did best: nurturing, growing. Maybe Jamis was right, he thought, Vellosians were no good at scheming and plotting the demise of far stronger adversaries. I am beaten, he thought, get over it.

  The angry days when he had risked everything to sneak the mangled body of a Fed war hero into one of the sick tanks without tripping any alarms, and the chances he took getting working fuel cells into the old Racellian pod seemed like another time, another Merthon. These days he padded through the halls slowly, sometimes humming snippets of old songs his mother had taught him in the pools long ago. He ate little. Slept less. Those bad thoughts, the ones where he would challenge a random warrior with mock ferocity in hopes of being taken from his misery by the hot end of a Grana’s red blade flared up now and then, but faded just as quick.

  It had been two weeks since Merthon had seen his only friend, Jamis. But try as he might, Merthon couldn’t stop thinking about him. Jamis was going to tell him some new plan. But it never got out. What was he up to? Merthon thought. Jamis hinted there was something missing, but what? What could harm these nearly fully grown beings when the water quality was clearly fine and all other checks for toxic agents came back negative?

  At work one day Merthon stared into a tank at one of the beings that he and Jamis had created. They were beautiful and even though he knew what they were to be used for, he was secretly proud of them. So many of them. He held a clear vial of water up, pretending to view it through the light, but actually to locate the guard. He was talking to a BG wearing the purple robes of a Grana priest, and so Merthon t
ook a chance and slipped his hand into the warm, thick solution and touched the pale, slick skin of the creature. It moved slightly and its eyelids twitched and Merthon caught his breath. But it was too early for it to wake.

  “You are my child,” said Merthon. “Do no harm.” Jamis would have laughed, he thought.

  At night Merthon’s mind would not shut off. Jamis hinted he was leaving something out of the solution, he thought, but what? Nothing could be left out. That would be suicide. The BG had begun running their own rudimentary analysis, cross checking the Vellosians, ever since Jamis had tried to poison a few of the children.

  It was one year ago when the offspring were young, half their current size. Jamis and Merthon had been going all day. Some of the young ones had died and neither of them could find a valid reason. Everything checked out. Merthon thought it was the bots the BG supplied to assist. They were not Vellosian spec and may have introduced contaminants. The Emperor recoiled at the notion his bots were to blame and hit Merthon so hard he fell to the ground. Merthon lay on the cold metal floor hoping he would just die. He could see nothing but the metal, three-toed foot of the Emperor. His robe brushing across Merthon’s face.

  Merthon thought a final, fatal blow was coming. Jamis did too, so he grabbed a handful of hydroxy tabs and threw them out over the open tanks. The Emperor yelled and moaned like a father who’s children were in peril. There was nothing he could do for them so he turned on Jamis.

  He pulled out his energy staff, the ends lighting up bright, electric red.

  “Kill me!” yelled Jamis, “and they all die.” His hand gesturing towards the young humanoids growing in their clear tanks, hover bots as far as the eye could see tending to them under Jamis and Merthon’s careful instruction.

  “You dare attempt to hurt my children. My children!” screamed the Emperor, the hot end of his stick in Jamis’s face, the light reflecting his large, wet eyes.