Fortunes of War (Stellar Main Book 1)

by Richard Tongue

  “Yes, you are,” he replied. “Walt, get her back to her ship. If you must, drag her back by her ears. I didn’t get myself shot so she could spend the next month in a detention cell. Now move, damn it!”

  “Come on,” Wu said, snatching a trolley, quickly throwing crates and packages inside. “We can’t afford to be picky at this stage. Just grab what you need.” Glancing at his watch, he said, “They usually take ten minutes to respond. We’ve already lost four, and I want a safety margin. At this time of day, we’re going to have fun getting through the traffic.”

  “Ration packs,” Carter said, reaching up to a high shelf. “They’ll have to do, for the present. I think we’ve got enough for a couple of weeks here.”

  “Plenty of one-shuttle towns out there with replenishment stores,” Wu replied. “Stock up later.” He navigated the trolley towards the door, then said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Adi.”

  “Just get her out of here,” the old man replied. “I’ll survive.”

  Wu’s truck waited for them outside, and the gunsmith pushed the trolley inside, not even waiting to empty it, then slammed the cargo hatch closed, gesturing for Carter to take the passenger seat. She scrambled inside, looking at the store behind her, curls of smoke still seeping through the door.

  “I’m going to get those bastards,” she muttered. “One way or another, they’re going to pay for this. Just one more item on the balance sheet.”

  “That comes later,” Wu replied, gunning the engine. “I just hope Adi can stall them long enough, or this could end up being a very short ride.” Behind them, sirens wailed, heralding the imminent arrival of the security teams, and with a smile, he added, “Buckle up. This is going to be fun. I’ve always wondered how fast this old thing can go. Now we get to find out.”

  Chapter 9

  The inspector looked down his checklist, then up at Garcia, saying, “This is really rather unusual. I would have expected that Captain Carter would be here herself for the inspection. I admit that technically it is not a requirement, but still…”

  Garcia interrupted, saying, “Our paperwork is all in order, though, and I’m fully qualified to act in her absence.” Technically, Carter hadn’t named him as First Mate, but that was a detail the inspector didn’t need to know. “How are we doing, anyway? No problem with the navigation systems?”

  “No, everything seems in order there,” the man replied, sliding his finger across the screen. “Sensor systems next, then the avionics. I suppose there’s no harm telling you that you’re almost there. A few questionable systems, but nothing that will preclude interstellar certification. I’m actually rather pleasantly surprised. I had been led to believe that this ship was in far worse condition than it is. My complements to your engineering team.”

  “Thanks,” he replied. “I’ll pass that onto the gang.” Gesturing to the rear of the ship, he said, “The sensor crawlway opens up in Engineering. You should be able to slide right in. Cassie’ll show you where to go.”

  Nodding, the inspector made his way down the cramped corridor, and Garcia turned to see a familiar figure stepping into the airlock. Doctor Schmitt, carrying a holdall, shaking his head.

  “Then you actually are a part of this,” Schmitt said. “I didn’t quite believe it.”

  “I needed a job,” Garcia said. “Captain Carter was hiring. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Of course it is,” the doctor replied. “And your desire to show up Captain Petrov had nothing at all to do with this. Damn it, Rusty, you’re better than this. Navigator on a tiny little scout trader?”

  “Work is work.”

  Taking a deep breath, Schmitt replied, “You and I both know that there are grounds for you to appeal Petrov’s decision. One message to the Inspector-General, and all of this is likely to go away. At the very least, you’ll get a better fitness report. At the very least. There’s a good chance that he’d just back off. You’ve spent years building a career in the Patrol, and…”

  “For what, Doc?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What’s the point? We weren’t doing any good. Even if we’d had a commanding officer who was interested in getting off his butt occasionally, with two ships to cover this sector, we never had a realistic chance of keeping the peace. Maybe here, maybe in a few other worlds, but what good could we do to the one-shuttle outposts? They’re hurting, and it’s only a matter of time before we end up with a Kurtz War.”

  “A what?”

  “Christ, did you sleep through History 101 at the Academy?” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Some criminal group finds a colony, an outpost. They move in, take over, and do what the hell they want. Strip the place clean of anything of any value, then burn the place to the ground before the law can show up. Happened too damn often right at Sol in the late 21st Century. It’s going to start happening out here before long. Hell, for all we know, it has already. Sure as damn it we wouldn’t know about it until it was too late.”

  “So you’re going to turn Don Quixote, turn into some sort of vigilante, sign up with some kid who conned her way into a starship and right the wrongs of the galaxy by yourself.”

  “If that’s what it takes, Doc,” he said. “If that’s what it takes.” Gesturing at the holdall, he asked, “You’re a little late for my birthday.”

  “I thought you could do with some decent medical supplies,” he said. “Most of this stuff was coming to end-of-life. We’d be ditching it at the refit, and they’d probably just auction it off. I figure you might as well get the benefit of it. I signed it all off as unsuitable for return to storage.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Garcia replied, “That’s a violation of quite a few regs, Doc.”

  With a shrug, Schmitt replied, “Odds are someone would have ended up stealing it anyway. Those quartermasters have slippery fingers.” Dumping the holdall on the deck, he added, “How’s the inspection going?”

  “Almost finished,” Garcia said. “Hey, how did you know…”

  “Petrov,” Schmitt said. “He was ranting about it at the morning briefing. Apparently, he had a long chat with the inspector, but didn’t manage to force him into automatically rejecting your application.” Shaking his head, he said, “That guy gets worse every day.”

  “Bastard. When Vicky gets back, I’m going to suggest that she talks to a lawyer. This looks a hell of a lot like harassment.”

  “Hey,” Schmitt said, raising his hands, “Don’t go crazy. He can make a hell of a lot of trouble for you, and I’m not going to testify against my own commanding officer. Even if we won, that’d be career suicide. I consider you a friend, Rusty, but there have to be limits.”

  Shaking his head, Garcia said, “Maybe….”

  The inspector walked down the corridor, a smile on his face, and said, “Congratulations. I wouldn’t have believed that a ship could be prepared for space in such a short amount of time, but you and your crew have accomplished the near-impossible.” Passing him his datapad, he continued, “I’ve certified you as clear for interstellar travel. There are a few citations, but nothing too serious. I’ll do a follow-up in three months, make sure that you’ve made the modifications I recommend, but other than that, you’re good to go.” Reaching for Garcia’s hand, he shook it, and said, “I wish all of my inspections went this well. And be sure to give Big Joe my regards when you see her next. Good day.”

  With a smile Garcia took the datapad, scrolling through the text, while Schmitt asked, “Big Joe?”

  “One of Carter’s friends,” Garcia replied. “I think I’ve worked out why Captain Petrov couldn’t get to the inspector. Evidently, we got to him first. It would have been nice if Vicky had told me about it, but I suppose she had her reasons.” He paused, then added, “That’s assuming she even knew. She’s got some very protective friends around here.”

  “Hey,” Wu said, running into the crew room. She looked at Schmitt, eyes narrowed, and asked, “Who the hell is this?”

  “Doctor Sch
mitt, from Ajax,” Garcia said. “He brought a few bits and pieces for our stores. Doc, this is Cassandra Wu, and the only reason that she’s the second-craziest weaponsmith that I’ve ever met is that I ran across her father first.”

  “I’ll take that as a complement,” she replied. “Dad just called. He’s on his way with Vicky, right now, and she wants us to be ready for immediate launch.”

  “What’s the rush?” Schmitt asked.

  “I don’t know, and I didn’t ask.” Turning to Garcia, she added, “Dad wouldn’t have made a big deal about this unless it was pretty damned important.”

  “Start pre-flight,” Garcia said. “I’ll get launch clearance.” Turning to Schmitt, he said, “This might not be a bad time for you to leave, Doc.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied, picking up the holdall. “I’ll get this stowed away, then get moving.” He paused, then said, “For the last time, Rusty…”

  “I know what I’m doing. Can you say the same?”

  Shaking his head, Garcia headed down the ladder, making for the cargo bay, while Garcia headed through the docking tunnel, brushing past one of the ValkyrieTech technicians, laden with a toolkit.

  “You’re leaving already?” the young man asked.

  “That’s the idea, and unless you want along for the ride, you’d better head back to the dome. Thanks for everything you’ve done. We wouldn’t have been ready without you.”

  With a smile, the technician replied, “I wasn’t about to pass up twelve hours’ worth of overtime at double the normal rates, sir. It was a pleasure to be of service. Have a good flight.”

  “Thanks,” he said, running down the corridor as the technician scrambled into the ship to retrieve his tools. As he emerged into the docking bay, he saw a half-dozen security guards moving into position, each covering one of the airlocks, cold iron in their eyes, their hands close to their sidearms. He walked over to the supervisor’s office, knocking on the door.

  “Come in,” Forbyn said. “Ah, Mr. Garcia. I’m afraid…”

  “I need launch clearance, right away,” he replied, passing her the recently signed inspection report. “We’re cleared for interstellar space, and we’ve got to get moving if we’re going to meet our rendezvous. Captain Carter will be along presently.”

  Gesturing at her monitor, an image of Carter on the display, she replied, “I’m afraid she’s wanted for questioning by local security. Something about a gunfight in a store. Needless to say, it would be wholly irresponsible of me to authorize launch clearance, though given the circumstances, I am prepared to waive today’s berthing fees.”

  “This is that bastard Petrov, isn’t it!” Garcia said, slamming his fist on her desk. “Damn it, he tried to get at the inspector, he’s tried to hold up our supplies, and he tried to steal Vicky’s ship out from under her. Just because he won’t do his god-damned job and hunt down the pirates raiding the free traders, he’s determined to stop anyone else trying to stop them.”

  “You’re going out to hunt the pirates?” Forbyn asked, raising an eyebrow. “In an unarmed ship?”

  “For the present,” he replied. “We’re working on that.”

  “I see,” she said. She took a deep breath, then looked at a faded holoimage on the wall, a couple with their arms around each other. One of them was obviously Forbyn, though many years ago, the other a serious-looking young man. “My fiancé. He went on a trade pioneering mission, out in Sagittarius Sector. He didn’t come back. The Patrol never even looked. Didn’t have the resources, apparently.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, deflated.

  “So was I. Hell, so am I, and it’s been thirty years.” Taking a deep breath, she reached for a control, and said, “There’s a truck heading our way at surprisingly high speed. Probably Captain Carter. I’ll decoy the security away, but you’ll have to hurry. And I’ll give you launch clearance.” With a thin smile, she added, “After all, technically, you haven’t committed any actual crimes. She’s only wanted for questioning. And it’s not as though Security ever cooperates with us.” Gesturing for the door, she said, “On your way.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, moving to the door. He paused at the threshold, and said, “For everything.”

  “Just get back in one piece.”

  He raced out onto the concourse, then winced as an ear-splitting noise sent the security troopers running in the opposite direction, heading for a cycling emergency airlock. A battered truck bounced into the room, and Carter climbed out, the cargo hatch popping open to reveal a trolley laden with supplies. Garcia sprinted toward her, grabbing the trolley and dragging it towards Pandora, narrowly missing the two ValkyrieTech technicians making their way out onto the concourse.

  Forbyn had distracted the guards for only a few seconds, but it was just enough, and the two of them, dragging their cargo behind them, sprinted through the docking tunnel. The hatch slammed shut behind them, and they pushed the crate-laden trolley into the crew room as they raced for the bridge.

  “We clear for launch?” Carter asked.

  “Just about,” Garcia replied. “Next time, I’m riding shotgun when you go shopping. I hate to miss a good party.”

  “I wish I’d missed this one,” she said. “Get the supplies stowed. We’re getting out of here while we can.”

  Chapter 10

  Wu looked up as Carter sprinted into the cockpit, sliding nimbly into the pilot’s couch, her fingers dancing across the controls, the engines beginning their launch sequence at her quick commands.

  “I’m scared to ask…”

  “We’re going for launch. Right now.”

  “Not a problem,” Wu said, a smile on her face. Behind her, Garcia sprinted through the hatch, diving for the navigation station. “I guess we’re good to go.”

  “We’ve got launch clearance, but I don’t know how long we’ll keep it,” Garcia warned. “Course computed and programmed. Escape velocity in seven minutes, and we can engage the T-Drive in twelve.”

  “Docking tunnel disengaged, retracting,” Wu added. “Camera pickups show a lot of very annoyed people with guns on the other side. And I’m picking up activity from both the local airlocks. We’re going to have company any second now.”

  “Not unless they can fly,” Carter replied, throwing a series of controls forward. With a loud roar, the lateral jets fired, kicking Pandora from the ground, the ship slowly rising into the air. The space-suited figures retreated into cover as she carefully played the thrusters, bringing the nose upwards before engaging the main engines, the ship racing out over the endless Stygian Sea. Glancing at her controls, she smiled in satisfaction before red-lining the engines, throwing them to maximum acceleration, the force pushing her back into her couch.

  “Traffic Control calling,” Wu said. “They don’t seem very happy with us. Pity I can’t quite make out what they’re saying through all the static.”

  Garcia looked up, and replied, “Just for the record, you two do realize that we’re now completely committed to this. Within the hour, all of our licenses and certifications will be pulled.”

  Wu smiled, and said, “Most of mine are forged anyway.”

  “There’s an old saying,” Carter replied. “I think the first man on Mars coined it, when he committed to the landing against instructions from Mission Control.”

  “What’d he say?” Wu asked.

  “We’re either going to be heroes or angels. What do we have to lose?”

  “Somehow, I never pictured myself playing a harp,” Garcia said, shaking his head. “Course trajectory computed for transit to our target. Two stops along the way, a rogue planet and a brown dwarf. According to our data, neither of them have been visited by Fortuna. Though I can’t find any records that anyone’s gone to the rogue planet at all. Just the citation of discovery, back about fifty years or so.”

  “Great,” Wu replied. “I always wanted to do the ‘strange new worlds’ thing.” She looked up at a sensor display, and added, “Coming through the uppe
r atmosphere now. Nice, smooth ride.” Her smile broke into a frown, and she continued, “Incoming contact, pretty big, moving fast.”

  “Let me see,” Garcia said, bringing the sensor display up on his terminal. “That’s Ajax, on an intercept course. Good God, she’s running weapons hot!”

  “Time to contact,” Carter asked, struggling to remain calm.

  “Nine minutes, eight seconds. Just around when we’re scheduled to leave the system.”

  “Traffic Control again,” Wu added. “For the record, I didn’t hear them, but we’re all wanted on a nice collection of regulatory violations and are instructed to land at once or face the consequences.”

  “Ignore them,” Carter said. “See if you can get more speed out of the engines.”

  “We haven’t even run all the field tests yet,” Wu protested.

  “No time like the present, then,” she replied. “I need all the power I can get if we’re going to dodge the Patrol.” Turning to Garcia, she asked, “Got any tricks up your sleeve?”

  “A few,” he replied. “Though right now, our best approach is to run as fast as we can.” Looking across at the engineering readouts, he added, “Mass is a little heavy. What was in those supplies?”

  “Food, spare components, medical kits,” she replied. “We were in a hurry after the gunfight.”

  Moving back into the bridge, Wu said, “You had a gunfight and didn’t invite me?”

  “Your father took your place.”

  “Did he get to try the laser shotgun?”

  “Laser shotgun?” Garcia asked.

  “Focus, people,” Carter ordered. “Cassie, where’s my power?”

  Throwing a control, the engineer replied, “Coming up right now. If I’ve got this right, you’re going to get a nice extra boost, any time now. I don’t think it’s going to do too much damage. I hope.”

  “You hope?”

  With a smile, Wu replied, “Only one way to find out.”

  After a few seconds, the engines roared louder, the ship starting to vibrate as the acceleration raced past the design specifications, the ship hurtling out of the upper remnants of the atmosphere. Carter glanced at the sensor plot, watching as Ajax matched their speed, correcting their course to preserve the intercept. She glanced across at Garcia, who shook his head.