Gray Panthers Captain Short Blade (24 page)

Central space dock, planet Glory

30 April 2129

Harve was pleased with the progress that had been made in the last few days. The AI Vengeance had been guiding the droids in assembling and running the conduit for transfer gel during the evenings, and the crew had been assembling various stations throughout the ship during the day. The droids were also installing sensors in every section of the ship. The sensors would provide communications capabilities and status in the event of a catastrophe. Harve knew the crew would assume that the main purpose of the sensors was to spy on them, so he made it clear that the sensors were set to monitor only the conditions of the area where they were installed, and not to interact with the crew unless a crewmember initiated contact.

“Harve, I need to have a word with you, if you’re free.” Superior Captain Thrust stood in the hatchway to the office and smiled at Harve for not noticing his entrance.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Harve felt as though he could read the captain by now and detected no reason for alarm.

“We might be at war soon with the Dixians. They’ve lost a couple of ships in what used to be Libra Alliance space, and now they’re demanding that they be allowed to send in a small fleet to find and recover them. We suspect pirates captured the ships—probably the same pirates we’ve been unable to find ourselves. The humans from Earth have suggested that an independent ship crewed by humans under the command of a Jacka captain perform the search.”

“How would they find that combination superior, Captain?” Harve asked in disbelief. “Humans might get along okay with Jacka, but I’ve never heard of them accepting orders from Jacka—only giving them orders.”

“There is such a ship. It belongs to the son of an important official of the Jacka council. He fought alongside the humans during the war and was rewarded for his bravery and service at war’s end with a ship of his own. Short Blade, the milk Jacka. Some say he’s the richest Jacka on the planet. He’s even rumored to be a special enforcer for the council.” Harve nodded, acknowledging that he had heard of the Jacka, as Thrust continued. “The funny thing about this super warrior cum ship captain, cum e
ntrepreneur,
is that they say he’s a runt!”

“That has to be an exaggeration, I’m sure. The Libra press always used to make fun of celebrities, too. Why are we talking about this Jacka, Captain?” Harve knew his boss wasn’t one for idle chitchat.

“We’ve been selected to accompany him, to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. I suspect they’ve chosen us because they think we’ll be in the docks refitting for at least another month. My guess is they’ll use that as an excuse to delay the investigation. Of course we might also have been chosen because we aren’t currently assigned to any mission. I highly recommend that you light a fire under your engineers and finish the upgrade as soon as possible.”

Harve realized this new assignment might make it possible for him to find his wife and daughter. “Sir, I’ll raise the temperature of the entire ship with all the fires I’m going to light under my team!”

The look of dedication and sincerity on Harve’s face reminded Thrust that this was the assignment his maintenance officer had been hoping for most, to go after the pirates. “Very well, Harve. I’ll leave it to you to step up the timetable. Stay seated. I’ll see myself out.”

Harve closed his eyes and imagined seeing his wife and daughter. Opening his eyes, he commed for both junior maintenance officers and his chief of maintenance to report as soon as possible. While waiting for them he tried to think of the best way to inform them of the new task ahead of them. He decided he’d ask for their input on how to get things done more quickly. Then he changed his mind and decided he would tell them how, instead.

All three arrived at the same time, and Harve motioned for them to find seats in the cramped office.

“Today, Superior Captain Thrust informed me that we’ve been selected for a vital mission. We’ll depart when the ship’s upgrades have been completed, so we need to get them done as soon as possible. Junior Maintenance Officer Burn, you’ll be responsible for the starboard side of the ship. Junior Maintenance Officer Cut, you’ll be responsible for the port side. Chief, I want you to help me review all work on both sides. This will be a race, and there can only be one winner. Each side will do whatever it takes to win, with one exception—you won’t do anything to interfere with the other team’s progress. This will be your responsibility and those higher up than me are watching. Do you understand? I expect both sides to be done in three days, at the most. The winner will get to help the loser finish, and then we’ll be able to launch. Chief, you stay here. Burn, Cut, good luck. Now get moving. No questions at this time.”

After the two junior MOs left, Harve looked at the old chief and shrugged his shoulders. “Chief, it’s going to be a scary couple of days around here. I need you to make sure neither of those two does anything dangerous to the ship or crew. You’ll also need to help me mentor the guys. They won’t be happy. Be sure to suggest to both officers that they should coordinate with Vengeance to make the best use of time and materials.”

“Sir, I’ll do as you order, but I’m a chief, not a referee. I also don’t give orders to officers, even junior officers—”

“Chief, you’re the heart of this ship. The men respect you, and the officers will listen to you. Too many will get nervous if they see me looking over their shoulders. This might be the only chance to rescue my wife and child—that info stays between you and me, though.”

Chief Edge looked at the officer for a split second before replying, “I will make it so.”

Edge rose and left the office, and Harve felt relief wash over him, knowing he had the old chief in his corner.
My wife, wherever you are, I swear I’ll find you,
he thought..

Daniels World

1 May 2129

Dan felt like his head would explode as he reviewed all the numbers and production figures from the Libra Alliance records. He finally accepted defeat and called on Grub.

“Can you make sense of these numbers and tell me how many Libra warships might be under pirate control, Grub?”

“The data suggests that up to a thousand ships could be unaccounted for. League of Planets intel reports based on information from survivors rescued from the pirates indicate that they have perhaps two dozen warships, at most. It’s odd that even though the pirates could increase the size of their fleet with the captured ships, they sell them instead. It’s believed they’re selling them to the Republic, but that can’t be confirmed.”

Dan had suspected the Republic of being involved in a secret war for a while. That didn’t make sense, though, since they would have to have been at war with the Libra Alliance, but the border between the two had never been seriously militarized.

“Communication from planet Glory,” Grub announced. “It’s from Short Blade. He accepts the offer and will depart when work on the Beater has been completed. He has requested all the additional information you said you would send if he accepted the assignment.”

Dan felt a tremendous sense of relief

“Sir, Fire fleet headquarters has sent a brief message letting you know that they will provide an escort for the Phoenix. The only problem is the ship they promised is in the docks receiving upgrades. No estimate at this time as to how long it will take.”

“Send them an acknowledgement of their transmission. I’m not going to fall for that game. We wait for that ship, then something else will happen. Short Blade will have to go in alone. Have any of our faeries made it into the systems for Fire fleet headquarters or the League of Planets systems?” Dan popped the cap on a bottle of cola, proud of himself for forgoing something stronger.

“It didn’t take much to do that. We provided an AI to both organizations, and we have direct access to both. The League of Planets’ state security department doesn’t use the AI, but they do use their own faeries as part of their countermeasures to protect their secrets. So, instead of sending in our faeries, we’re trying to access theirs.

“There are senators in the League of Planets who are keeping the Fire fleet from recovering Libra navy assets. To cover up what they’re doing, they set up a task force to go and recover the materials, but the task force was sent to locations that either had been closed down or were filled with obsolete equipment. The task force was recalled when it went to a site that wasn’t on the list and recovered a major weapons cache. Also, the task force commander has been sent to the docks to upgrade his ship—just to get him out of the way.”

“Thanks, Grub. Keep searching for additional information, and send Short Blade the information he needs to do his job. Now.”

House of Short Blade, planet Glory

1 May 2129

Poland looked at the station in front of him with disgust. Every station on the Beater’s flight deck was noticeably slower than when he had been forced to abandon ship. Everything worked, and some tasks were completed at perfectly normal speeds, but in most cases the response times were slow.
The data and commands are making it through, so there’s enough transfer gel. The hardware isn’t damaged. The network is up—

“Hey Guns, Jimmy, did either of you do any repairs on the transfer gel conduits?” he asked, his fingers crossed that he’d get the right answer.

“There was battle damage to the conduit near the AI in the central communications cabin,” Jimmy replied. “I repaired the damage and did a pressure check to make sure there weren’t any leaks. I had to fill in about a tenth of a unit of transfer gel to get it back up to specs. It tested well and doesn’t leak. Is there a problem?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just that every station is noticeably slow. Thanks for the info, Jimmy. Beater, could the repair to the conduit affect processing speed? Are there different types of transfer gel, or could the transfer gel be too old?”

Poland hid his frustration well, but Beater had been monitoring him as he worked and knew better.

“There’s only one type of transfer gel, so that’s not the problem. The transfer gel that was already in the ship was made relatively recently, so it’s not too old. The transfer gel that was installed also has a long life remaining. There aren’t any obstructions in any of the conduits that would inhibit performance, either. I recommend that all transfer gel be strained for impurities. When the lines were damaged, they may have been contaminated.”

Poland stared at the station and decided he must be too tired if he had missed something as simple as that.

“Beater, can you perform that task with the droids?”

“While maintenance of transfer gel conduits is performed, I shut down all systems to prevent damage. A crewmember will need to perform the task. The main maintenance access panel for the conduit system is in the hangar bay.”

“Jimmy, could you drain the transfer gel, strain it, and reinstall it? Main access panel’s in the hangar bay. All systems need to be shut down while that’s done, to prevent damage.”

“Not a problem, Comm—I mean, John. I’ll start on that at 1900 hours local so it won’t interfere with anyone else’s work.”

“Good thinking. Jimmy. I’m calling it a day.”

Poland left the flight deck and decided to pass on dinner, going to his old cabin instead The mattress felt more comfortable than he remembered. As sleep started to overtake him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something important.

He woke up sweating, in total darkness. His last memory was a dream about suffocating in space.

“Lights!” he commanded.

Nothing happened. He felt for the light control panel and realized it was dead. He began to feel lightheaded, and his heart was beating like an out-of-control drum. Instinct took over and he tried to open the hatch, only to find that it was sealed. Pressing behind his right ear, he gave the command, “Comm, all. I’m trapped in my cabin, running out of—”

He was out before he hit the floor. Everyone on the ranch who heard the comm alert headed for the Beater. All external hatches were open, and Jimmy was the first to reach the hatchway to Poland’s cabin. Using his emergency light to illuminate the manual pad on the hatchway, he typed in one, one, one, one. When he heard the seal release, he pulled open the hatch. Shining his light into the cabin, he spotted Poland crumpled up in a ball at the base of the bunk. As he reached down to grab him, Namid pressed by him and dropped to her knees, checking Poland’s neck for a pulse. She seemed oblivious to the fact that she was wearing only a T-shirt. Jimmy held the light for her to see but averted his gaze.

“He should be okay,” she said. “Help me get him back in the bunk. What do you think happened?”

Jimmy picked Poland up and gently eased him onto the bunk before answering.

“All power is off while we’re draining the transfer gel. When the power shuts off, any hatch that’s closed automatically seals. He’s a lucky man.”

He turned around and saw that the rest of the group was silently watching from outside the hatchway.

“It’s all good. We can all go back to bed,” he told them. Smiling, he handed Namid his light and exited the cabin, following the lights the others were carrying. Namid set her medical bag at the foot of the bunk and crawled in next to Poland. Then she realized the show she must have put on for everyone, dressed the way she was. Shrugging it off, she covered them both with the sheet, and as she watched Poland’s strong, rhythmic breathing she relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

“Hey, John, how ya doin’?”

Poland forced himself awake, feeling a pounding headache and Namid at his side.

Standing in the hatchway, Guns smiled at the confused look on Poland’s face.

“Guess you don’t remember last night. After Jimmy almost killed you, he saved you later in the night. When he shut down all power on the Beater, he forgot to make sure the ship was clear. You woke up long enough to call for help, and then you passed out. If I’d known the dedication of our doc here, I might’ve tried something similar.”

“Or I might just let you die, ya dirty old man,” Namid said as she stretched and tried to fully wake up.

Guns grinned at her. “I just thought I’d swing by before everyone else wakes up—in case you wanted to return from your house call and put some clothes on. Remember? Everyone was here last night to rescue John.”

“Thanks, Guns. I guess I do owe you one,” Namid replied softly, waiting for him to go so she could get out from under the covers.

“I’ll leave now, but remember there’s still no power—so don’t lock yourself in your cabin again.”

Poland waved his middle finger to Guns’s back, and Namid half rolled on top of him.

“See what happens when you sleep by yourself? I have to go.” She kissed him passionately and then sprinted out of the cabin before he could reply.

I have a feeling it’s going to be an interesting day,
Poland thought as he headed for the shower. Then he remembered there wasn’t any power, so he got dressed in the faint light from the hatchway.

Short Blade couldn’t help feeling a little depressed by the thoughts that ran through his head as he dressed.
Why do I live this way? I’m one of the richest citizens on this planet, yet I live alone, surrounded by aliens. Even Poland has no trouble finding love, time and again. I have to start socializing more with my own kind and take a wife.
He went to the kitchen but decided he would eat with the warriors instead.

“Good morning, Senior Sergeant Knife. May I join you for first meal?”

The old warrior slid down the bench, making room for Short Blade to sit at the table.

“Cook, bring Captain Short Blade something good to eat—not the stuff you feed us!”

Knife laughed when the cook expressed his displeasure at the dig, as did the few warriors who were near enough to hear it. The cook brought a bowl of porridge and a spoon, saying nothing, but glaring at the senior sergeant.

Short Blade looked at the porridge and saw huge chunks of half-cooked meat in it. The smell made his mouth water and he dug into the meal with gusto. The cook smiled as he waited to see if anything else was needed.

“Senior Sergeant Knife,” Short Blade began, “I’ll need your best eight warriors who have zero gravity experience. I’ll be taking the new ship out on a mission, and there could be a fight. I’ll take the warriors you select to get fitted for suits today, in case the ship gets damaged.”

“Sir, our men are brave and have much experience. They aren’t afraid to die. Some, I think, even welcome it. But I don’t know a single one who will volunteer to fight in space if there’s a risk that their body might be lost and they couldn’t find peace in the next world.”

Short Blade thought about how he was going to reword his command.

“Senior Sergeant Knife, I want the eight most experienced zero grav warriors to report to me in two hours. They will return from the mission with me, dead or alive. On this you have my word. Those warriors will have stories to tell that can’t be beat.”

As Short Blade rose to leave, he picked up his bowl to drink the last of the porridge. When he finished, he let out a loud belch that met with the approval of all those around him. He felt happier than he had for quite some time as he walked back to his house.

I should look for the dancer while I’m in town today. Why am I waiting?
He saw Namid walking toward her quarters.
I wonder if she’s aware that she’s only wearing a shirt again? Crazy girl
.

Two hours later, Short Blade stood in front of the hover truck glaring at his wrist computer. None of the warriors had reported to him. Just as he started to comm Senior Sergeant Knife, he saw the eight warriors walking toward him in a loose formation. Some were limping and others were bloodied. Two had eyes so swollen they could barely see.

“Why are you all so beat up? Did Senior Sergeant Knife do that to you?” Short Blade asked, his voice full of concern.

As the warriors looked back at him, first one and then all began to laugh.

“Sir, there were more than eight of us with the experience you want, so we fought among ourselves until only eight were still standing.” The corporal reporting stood at attention, swaying slightly.

Short Blade decided that Namid should sew the corporal’s ear back on and tend to the others’ wounds before they left for town.

“I want you all to report to Namid so she can examine your injuries before we go into town. Be back here in one hour, cleaned up and ready to go. Dismissed.”

I wonder what Senior Sergeant Knife said to motivate the warriors so strongly
, Short Blade thought.
I know they all hate anything to do with zero gravity.

He managed to jump onto the tailgate of the hover truck to sit and wait. Noticing the Beater’s lights were on again, he jumped back down and walked over to see how things were looking. Entering through the hangar bay, he didn’t see anyone working, nor did he see signs of any damage. Proceeding along the passageway, he noticed there weren’t any damages to be seen there, either. When he reached the flight deck, it was a buzz of activity. Poland had Jimmy and Guns manning different stations, with each trying to overload the system with different tasks. Poland sat at the command station, smiling. Everything appeared to be working at or above normal parameters.

“Captain Short Blade, I’m happy to report that everything is looking better than we hoped. We’ll be ready to take the Beater for a test flight as early as tomorrow. Will you want to test all weapons systems at that time as well?”

“We should check everything possible. I have no idea what we might be up against on our mission. If we need to fight, let’s be sure we have plenty of punch to give an opponent.”
If we find ourselves in a fight, will I be able to lead the fight or should I give command to Poland?
Short Blade wondered.
Will I let my pride kill us all?

“I’m hopeful that everything will go fine, Captain,” Poland replied. “Captain? Short Blade?”

Looking up, Short Blade realized he hadn’t been paying attention.

“I’m sorry, Commander. My mind was somewhere else.”

“We’ll do fine tomorrow when we test the ship. And if it’s all the same to you, sir, please call me John. You’re the boss, and when you call me commander, it makes things awkward for everyone.”

“Okay, John, that makes sense. I didn’t want to offend you. In my culture a warrior is always referred to by his rank.”

Short Blade turned and headed back to the hover truck, happy that there would be less formality between him and John. It felt odd to call him by his first name, but he would learn to.

The warriors were more subdued now that Namid had examined them and treated their wounds. They stank of antiseptic salve. Short Blade felt bad for them as he ordered them into the back of the hover truck. He climbed up into the driver’s compartment, where the corporal sat behind the steering stick waiting.

“Let’s go, Corporal. We’re losing daylight.”

The corporal looked back at him in confusion until Short Blade explained that it was an Earth saying. He nodded and started the hover truck.

“Sir, if we stop at the money shop in town, we can get at least half of the suits we need,” the corporal suggested. “Most of the men hocked their equipment when they were forced to leave the service, and they should be able to buy it back. It’ll also improve moral, since they’ll be using equipment that has already served them well.”

You mean they’re superstitious,
Short Blade thought
.
“As long as the equipment is serviceable, that won’t be a problem, Corporal. Maybe we’ll be able to get everything there.”

When they first walked in, the store was what Short Blade expected—full of old clothing and household goods. When the proprietor realized they were veterans who were buying, not selling, his demeanor improved immensely and he opened a door to a much larger area. The room looked like an armory. Short Blade guessed there were more than five thousand military-grade weapons of all sorts. The corner of the room held over a hundred spacesuits. Crates of ammunition were stacked all over the place. The store’s owner ignored Short Blade, instead watching the warriors as they looked at the spacesuits.