“Settle, let us discuss and perhaps formalize this pact between the Squilla and the Krift,” the king said.
Vermell waited until King C’Rabi had settled on a platform at the head of the table. The meeting room in his palace provided an amazing view of the beach and the ocean through an open wall that led out to a third-floor veranda. She swept her wings back and sat on the chair the king had indicated. Besides the translator device and speakers, the table had an actual printed copy of the formal agreement, in duplicate.
King C’Rabi observed his guest without trying to be obvious. The Krift was an almost seven-foot-tall, upright insectoid. Her coloring was dark reddish-brown, with six limbs and translucent wings on her back. She had eyes that appeared to see everywhere at once, a set of mandibles, and a pair of antennae on her head. Her race was very different from his crustacean race, though they both shared the physical trait of exoskeletons. Her race could not live on both the land and sea, but then again, Squilla could not fly.
“I must tell you, I was surprised when your queen reached out and offered a pact,” King C’Rabi said. “Your system does not have very many warships, but the twenty that will accompany my fleet are formidable. I would dare say that, offensively, each is worth two of my own comparatively-sized ships in their attack capabilities.”
“I see you and your intelligence beings have done their homework,” Vermell said. She was not surprised. She was surprised the Squilla king had admitted his ships were weaker. “We know our shields and missiles are slightly more powerful than yours. Where our real advantage lies is in the fighter craft every ship carries for support. As a race, we are born fliers, so naturally any craft we directly control has that advantage.”
“Are you quite sure that twenty is all you can provide? I don’t mean to give the illusion that I am not pleased with what amounts to an addition worth forty of my own ships, but the more ships, the better,” the king said as he absentmindedly wiped his eyestalk with his small claw.
“As you know, our race has used Q-ships almost exclusively,” Vermell said. The king nodded his eyestalks. “We can…acquire them, shall we say, at a much cheaper price than building them. We arm them and increase their shielding abilities, and they are more than sufficient to protect our trade ships and other interests.”
You mean you hijack the ships, and then you use them for piracy in some systems while you strong arm weak races for payment for protection services in others, King C’Rabi thought.
“Several years ago, we acquired a shipbuilding facility with a decent replicator, took it apart, and moved it to our system. There, we put it back together with some improvements, hired some technicians and research beings, and have been building a fleet,” she said. “Though they serve most of our needs, the Q-ships would not be sufficient to aid you in destroying the Tretrayon system.”
“That is the goal,” King C’Rabi agreed. “As I told your queen, I insist that my commander be in charge of the entire endeavor. He is a far superior tactician to any being your queen could provide…he has more experience,” he added the last hastily. He did not want to offend her before the pact was actually signed, since he knew she would be the one to command the Krift ships. “System Commander One D’Varote will ensure that the spoils are shared according to the contract once the Tretrayon system has been subjugated. I will be sending forty ships to this battle and leaving just ten ships to defend my system.”
“Perhaps we could amend the contract and send…say, fifty of our strongest Q-ships to help defend your system, should the need arise,” Vermell suggested, spreading her two upper limbs to give the appearance that it was a mere suggestion, and that there was no ulterior motive. The queen had not instructed her to inquire, but she could not pass up the possibility. The queen was not interested in business in this deal. She wanted revenge.
“Tell me, what caused Queen Lafell to be so inclined to offer her aid?” the king asked, ignoring the offer. It was a question he had been asking himself since he had been contacted through back channels. Her system and empire were vastly inferior to his, of course, but she was the only being to offer to ally with the Squilla.
“I, personally, must conquer it because they interfered in my system’s subjugation of another system and cost me ships, and in retaliation for something that happened two hundred years ago to my ancestors,” the king added. “They must pay for the loss of fifty-four ships and thousands of Squilla. I erred in sending the last invasion in waves. This time they will all enter together.”
“She suspected you would ask this question,” Vermell said. “Oddly enough…I have been instructed to tell you the truth. She desires revenge against the Tretrayons, and against one in particular, a human…Harmon Tomeral. He and his crew destroyed a Q-ship and its escorts in the Nilta system.”
“Nilta? The Nilta system is worthless,” King C’Rabi said dismissively. “There is nothing there of note. A poor system with no mining prospects. I think they export just one item, a sweetener some beings use for cooking. We bypassed that system years ago in our search for mining opportunities.”
“The system is quiet,” Vermell admitted. “Very little happens there, and very few go there. The Q-ship, Awaken, was commanded by Queen Tachell, and almost all of its crew members were from Tachell’s personal swarm. Tachell was Queen Lafell’s cousin.”
“So, your queen desires the downfall of an entire system for her cousin’s death?” King C’Rabi asked. He was beginning to understand the offer of aid a little better. For just one being, though? A cousin. Kind of extreme, but it was family, he surmised.
“No. That is not the reason,” Vermell said as she leaned forward to sign the documents.
“Why, then?” the king asked, glancing up after he signed his copy.
Vermell looked up into the Squilla king’s bulging eyes, her writing utensil held in her grasping limb, and said, “Her Majesty’s favorite daughter, Twill, was second on Awaken.”
* * * * *
Chapter Ten
Salvage Title came through the gate, followed closely by Windswept. The Leethog system was just as busy as it had been the last time they were there. Harmon looked through the clear-steel view port of the bridge and could imagine the Tretrayon system like this. Tourists, trade ships, and everything else that came with a healthy, vibrant star system would be a welcome change to his home system.
Alarms started going off all over the ship. Imminent impact alarms. Another ship had entered the system right after them, and it was moving at an incredible rate of speed. It was too close, well within the danger area all ships in the galaxy steered clear of except during times of combat.
“Evasive actions! Helm, turn…” Harmon started to command.
“Sorry! Sorry ’bout that. My bad. Sorry everybody,” a voice said over all channels. Whoever it was, they had broadcast over the emergency channel, too.
A ship unlike any ship Harmon had ever seen, much less heard of, came zipping past them after barely missing the fighter carrier, and cut between it and the cruiser. It was the length of a destroyer—a couple hundred yards. The front was normal size, but the back half was big and boxy. There was a round bulge on top of the ship, with two large turrets spaced apart. Looking at it, Harmon could swear it was as if someone had pieced together several different kinds of ships to make one.
When it went past, and Harmon got a good look at its thrusters, and he counted eight of them. Eight! Each thruster was as large as the ones on Salvage Title. He had no idea who or what owned that ship, but he knew it had to be fast. He tried to remember which races could take the kind of G-forces it would create for the beings in it. It pulled away from them like they were sitting still.
“What the frost was that?” Clip asked. He was on the bridge with Zerith and the four original crew members. They had all wanted to see the Leethog home system.
“I do not know, but I would like to ssee itss power plant,” Zerith said, tearing off another hunk of the black bread he had brought with
him.
“I would, too,” Kyla agreed.
“Eight engines,” Vera sighed. She reached for a piece of Zerith’s bread.
“I wonder if it’s controlled by automated computer assistant, or by beings alone?” Jayneen asked.
“We want to fly it,” Hank and Stan said at the same time. They high-foured, something they had learned from Clip.
“Salvage Title, Windswept. Did you see that? It shot around us, rolled, and cut between our ships,” Evelyn said over the comms.
“We saw it. It happened so fast I’m not even going to bother reporting it to the system,” Harmon answered. Not that he would. He could appreciate something someone had built out of that many pieces.
“Sir, it’s already slowed dramatically and will be stopped near the port,” the tactical officer informed him thirty minutes later, perplexed.
“How the frost did it do that? At that speed, turnover and slowing should have taken hours to accomplish,” Harmon said. “I know we didn’t enter at great speed, but that’s incredible.”
Clip pulled his slate out. He would see what he could find out. He wondered what type of computers and programming were on the strange ship. He noticed a message pop up in the corner. It said, “Beat you to it—Jayneen.” He grinned.
Harmon had sent a message to the Leethog Fleet admiral before they made the transition. Near the port, there were several Leethog Fleet ships—two dreadnoughts and a large fighter carrier were parked nearby in formation. It looked like he was going to be able to hire the fighter pilots he needed. Hopefully he could get the flight operations specialists and repair technicians he needed, too.
He saw the strange ship floating motionless, and started to think it might be someone or something answering the ad for mercenaries that he had Clip put out over the Net. If it was, he wondered if he should even entertain it with the dangerous maneuvering the ship had performed.
“The ship is called Sweet Pea. It’s registered in the Lormell system. It’s owned by a Lormell who goes by the name of Cameron,” Jayneen said.
“You’re lying, right?” Harmon asked. “Sweet Pea?”
“I do not lie,” Jayneen said, sounding appalled.
“She’s telling ya the truth. It’s owned by a Lormell,” Clip verified, looking down at his slate.
“A Lormell? I don’t know anything about them,” Harmon admitted.
“Sir, you have a call from the ship,” the communications officer informed him.
“Put it on the main screen, Jim,” Harmon said. “Thanks.”
Harmon found himself looking at a large…bat. At least, he thought it looked kind of like a bat. Bats had been introduced to Tretra centuries before, to help take care of the Zaxs, an insect native to Tretra. The being looking at him was over six feet tall, and winged. The wings were flaps of skin that folded when the being had his arms at his side. The wings were obvious when it reached up and pushed a pair of thick black glasses back up its nose. It had large, bat-like ears, a pug nose, and was covered in dark short grey hair.
“Um…hello? Hello...hey George, is this on? Oh, I see you. Hello. I’m Cameron,” the Lormell said in perfect Earth Common, looking back to the screen.
“Hi,” said Harmon. He was at a loss for words. He could see in the background what had to be the bridge of the ship and several of the crew members at their stations. Their stations were consoles that had been pieced together, like the ship. There were bundles of exposed wires, and one of the crew members knocked a drink off the corner of his console when he went to adjust his thick glasses behind Cameron.
“I’m here to answer the ad. I’ll take the job,” Cameron said.
“You do know it’s a defensive contract for a multi-system war, don’t you?” Harmon asked.
“I saw that. Defend the Tretrayon system against the Squilla. Gotcha. I’m on it. When do you need me there? I can leave now,” Cameron said. He turned to the crew member that had spilled the drink. “Hey, Ralph, set the coordinates for…”
“Whoa! Hold on there, buddy,” Harmon interrupted. “We need to come to some terms here. What can your…ship do? What are its capabilities? How many crew members do you have? That sort of thing.”
“Oh…yeah. Um…I have sixty crewmembers,” said Cameron, “and I have fifteen fighter pilots, four repair technicians, and three that are mech pilots. I think that’s all. Oh, and I’m a pilot of ships and mechs, too. Except I broke our mech. But it’s being worked on and stuff,” he answered, his words coming so quickly they almost blended together. “It’s a really cool one. I put a flame thr…”
“Whoa, slow down…wait, did you say a flame thrower?” Harmon asked.
“Hire him,” Clip whispered fiercely to Harmon. “Even if it is a ship of fools.”
“Yess, flame throwerss are great,” agreed Zerith as he held a hand up to his mouth and whispered behind it.
“Yes, only the tank holding the flammable fluids leaked, threw a flame, and blew me two hundred feet away like a celebration rocket…with no stick.” Cameron started to explain. “It was great. I was flipping and spinning…”
“What about your ship?” Harmon asked quickly, interrupting him.
“Well, Sweet Pea is fast. Really fast. She has eight fusion plants, and seven engines. She has twenty different missile launchers and two really big quad lasers. I have twenty different fighters. Oh, and three shield systems that overlap,” Cameron said proudly. One of the crew members behind him made funny faces and waved behind his back to the screen.
“Seven? I counted eight thrusters,” Harmon said.
“Yeah…we diverted some thrust to one of them. Eight looks cooler than seven. Besides, there were eight thrusters on the piece when I bought it and we put the ship together,” Cameron explained, “but I didn’t have eight engines.” He shrugged, his wings rippling under his arms.
“You built the ship?” Harmon asked. He was impressed with the offensive capabilities, at least.
“Well, yeah. Sort of…I bought all the parts and had the shipyards put it together back home. They welded it all together, and we worked on the inside,” he said, waving his arm all around him and grinning. “I won a scratch off when I visited Earth and spent all the credits on it,” he finished.
“Do you have any experience fighting the ship?” Jayneen asked, getting down to business.
“Yes. We’ve been using it for…I don’t know…maybe four years or so. We’ve been in eight major engagements, and lots of little ones with just a few ships. We’re pretty good at it,” Cameron said.
“Four years? Wait, how old are you?” Harmon asked.
“I’m twenty Earth years old,” he answered. “Why?”
“I just wondered,” Harmon said. “What are your rates?”
“Well, we can give you eight months before we gotta move on and stuff. Something big happening on the other side of the galaxy we have a prior commitment to. How about two million credits…and if there’s a battle, ten million credits?” Cameron said as he pushed his glasses back up. “I mean, like we could get killed or something…oh, and some of the salvage. I want to add to the ship.”
“Well, if your references check out, you have a deal. Shoot them over so my lieutenant commander can check them,” Harmon said, shaking his head.
“Yes, do,” Jayneen said. She knew they would check out. She had already started her search. The ship could do what he said it could, and it always survived the battle, from what she could find. The connection was cut.
“What iss a sscratch off?” Zerith asked.
“It’s kind of a game of chance. I read they were making a comeback on Earth,” Clip said.
“Chancce? No, I will not throw away my creditss like that,” Zerith said, shaking his head. He never bet on the chinto races on Joth, either.
The brothers, Hank and Stan, were looking at each other and smiling, until Kyla gave them both a look and hissed. It wiped the toothy grins right off their faces.
* * * * *
Cha
pter Eleven
“Captain Tomeral, I’m pleased to see you and your ship survived the battle. I take it my fleet members performed satisfactorily?” the Leethog Fleet admiral asked.
“Yes, Ma’am, they were outstanding in every sense of the word. I’m just sorry I couldn’t bring them all back with us,” Harmon said somberly.
“As I told you before, that is the nature of our profession,” the admiral said. “It is not something we take lightly, but it does happen. By all accounts, your leadership and decision making are the reason you lost only a few.”
Harmon was sitting in front of Admiral Lucytileerlot’s desk on the dreadnought Leethog’s Answer. It was a huge ship, slightly bigger than the Squilla dreadnoughts Salvage Title had had a hand in destroying. She had invited him over to meet face to face and discuss the possibility of a military pact with the Tretrayon system. There were pictures of ships on the bulkhead. Harmon could tell they were the ships she had commanded through the years, because they steadily increased in size. Several showed signs of damage, as if the images had been taken after a battle.
“Thank you, Ma’am, but I couldn’t have done it without a good crew,” Harmon declared.
“True, the beings who serve under you determine your success or failure. That is the nature of command,” she said. “A good commander ensures that their beings are well trained and taken care of. In return, they take care of the commander.
“I have been authorized by Her Majesty to agree to a military training program. We will send officers and technicians to your system, and you may send yours here in order for all involved to gain valuable training and experience. I am unable to tell you whether she will agree to sign a mutual defense pact at this time, though,” the admiral said. “She instructed me to inform you that she will consider this. I personally feel she is waiting to see if the governing changes on your system’s home planet, Tretra, continue. She does not condone the type of planet it appeared to be before this war started. She is our queen, and there are some checks and balances; though she can override all, she and her family before her have always allowed the will of all the Leethog to be considered first. As it should be.
Salvage Fleet Page 5
