Hank disengaged the magnets on the struts and pulled away from the Zax. He was going to join his brother and attack the big ship. Flying a fighter was great fun! He had never flown anything other than a small shuttle before back in his home system. He reached up and pushed the helmet back up so he could see. The alien battle suit was just a little large, but the helmet almost fit his head since it was shaped similar to his. He had tied the bottom two sleeves into a knot at his waist and the suit was rolled up and tied off above his feet. It leaked a little, but he could breathe, so that was good.
“You. This is me, over,” Hank said, using the comms in his helmet.
“Roger, you. This is me,” Stan answered.
He banked around and fired two missiles at the ship lined up in his reticle. It was not the big ship, it was one slightly behind and to the side. That was okay. He had more missiles. He applied more thrust and grinned as the G-forces pushed him down.
“Roger, you. I am going after the small ones. You fight the big one. This is me. Out,” Hank said.
“Roger that, you. This is me. Out,” Stan answered.
Zerith tapped the thrusters in the mech and flew down to the Zax. The thrusters were powerful enough to fly the suit in gravity with its all of its weight. In space it was weightless, so there was plenty of thrust for what he wanted to do. He flew past the cockpit and grabbed the engine housing. He turned himself around, locked the claws into the fighter, hit the thrusters full output, pushed one leg out, and turned its nose toward the battlecruiser. It was very exciting.
* * *
Stan leaned his head back so he could see better and watched as his missiles hit the shield in front of the ship. He could see it shimmer a light blue color when they struck. He shrugged inside his oversized suit and fired the remaining six missiles at the Q-ship and squeezed the trigger on the lasers. Maybe he could overload the shield. He looked over to his port side and saw his brother heading around the ship. He looked back and saw two missiles leave the Q-ship right before four of his missiles exploded against the ship. There was a bright flash that caused his goggles to darken. They cleared after a moment; the ship was hit and venting atmosphere in a number of places!
He flew back and forth, squeezing the trigger, as internal explosions tore the big ship apart. Occasionally he could feel the shudder as his fighter was hit by laser fire from the ship, but his shields held. This was great. He would ask Harmon if he could fly it again sometime. He was not even wobbling anymore. Flying a fighter wasn’t so hard once you got used to how fast they went. The shuttle back home could not do this.
Hank watched the two missiles hit the small ship and tear a hole in its side. He could see atmosphere spraying from the ship. Its engines were still firing, so he lined up his reticle on them and launched another missile. He looked at his sensor for another ship. Two were turning away from him. He followed. This was loads of fun.
Hank launched two missiles at the smallest ship. His fighter lurched as some warning lights came on in the display. He couldn’t read them, but the little image of his ship on a screen showed that his shield was down. He liked the little screen; he could fire missiles just by touching their symbol twice. The laser blasts he had been taking from all three ships had overloaded the shield. He decided he shouldn’t fly in a straight path. He began weaving and rolling the fighter. He fired his last three missiles at the other ship and turned away. He was down to half engine output. That was okay. He could fix that. Maybe…once he took it apart to see how it worked.
* * *
Tachell watched as the two missiles left her ship toward the fleeing craft. They would stop it and continue past to capture the battlecruiser. One of the missiles flew off away from the craft. She leaned forward and could now tell it was a fighter. The second missile exploded, but the fighter was within range of its pulse. Its engine shut down.
“It is powerless, my queen,” said the drone at the tactical console.
She was watching the screen and waving her antennae impatiently as they closed in on the ship. She leapt to her legs when she saw two more fighters leave the battlecruiser on the sensor screen. How could they launch fighters? They were a skeleton crew.
“They have launched more fighters,” her second said. “These are different; I have no idea of their capabilities. There is no information on the net, and their readings are strange. I am working on it, My Queen,” she added.
They were gaining on the drifting fighter. She saw the battlecruiser was coming to them instead of fleeing. She was sure the fighters could be dealt with. The shields should be able to withstand a fighter’s laser fire. She would have that ship.
“Full power to forward shields!” Tachell screamed as she watched two missiles appear from one fighter. “Fire all lasers!” The other fighter had merged with the powerless fighter. Seconds later, she saw it peel away and turn toward them. The Q-ship rocked, causing her to spread her wings slightly for balance.
“Forward shields down to fifty percent, My Queen,” called out her second.
The Awaken, a converted merchant ship, had shields, but they were not military grade. Too many of those missiles and it would fail. She watched in horror as the same fighter launched six missiles at once. She sat back down.
“Fire the last two missiles,” she ordered, “and tell the others to flee.” She knew the shield would fail. She had been lied to. They had many crew members. How dare that human lie, was her last thought.
* * * * *
Chapter Seventeen
Harmon watched the second fighter land in the bay. It bounced and skidded a few feet to a stop right behind the first fighter, throwing sparks as its landing strut scraped the bay floor. Neither craft was anywhere near where it was supposed to sit in line with the others. He still couldn’t believe that someone had actually thought it was a good idea to let them pilot fighters.
He felt the Zax shake slightly as his ship was pulled in toward an open area of the bay. Once inside, it dropped with a clang, and he felt the fighter shake again as the mech slid off the back. The doors to the bay were closing, and he looked over to see who was at the control panel. Vera and Kyla stood by the panel, both wearing oversized battle armor. The sleeves were too long, the legs were bunched up, and Kyla was holding her helmet back so she could peer through the visor. What the frost is going on around here? I leave for a few hours, and they go insane.
When the environmental system cleared the bay, Harmon manually opened the cockpit of the Jax. He stood in the seat and looked around the bay. Zerith was climbing out of the mech. Both brothers were standing by the smoking fighter, holding a helmet in one hand and waving their other hand around, mimicking the flight of a fighter. They were talking rapidly in growls, hisses, and whistles. He pulled his earpiece out. It wasn’t working; the translation wasn’t coming through. He had a pretty good idea what they were talking about, though.
Vera’s helmet was lying on the floor of the bay as she struggled to help Kyla get her helmet off. She turned it slightly, and it came loose; then they both ambled over to their mates. Their conversation got louder. Harmon sat on the edge of the cockpit and shook his head. All four of them looked ridiculous with their suits bunched up like accordions. Insane.
* * *
“I swear I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Clip said. “Tell him, Jayneen. We’re innocent.”
“That is correct. I was not monitoring the bay or the Hauler. I am not insane,” Jayneen said.
Everyone was on the bridge of the battlecruiser. Jayneen had slowed the ship to almost a complete stop as they contemplated their next decision.
“I just want to know who came up with the crazy idea to let Hank and Stan pilot fighters. Especially since we had no idea of their true capabilities, exactly how to fly them, and how to use the weapons. You brought the mech out to act as an engine. Really, Zerith?” Harmon asked.
“It wass not my idea,” Zerith said around a mouthful of berries.
“If it wasn’t made o
n the bridge and you didn’t do it, whose idea was it?” Harmon asked, confused.
Three Leethog and the Prithmar looked at Kyla, who tilted her head to the side and smiled, showing all her teeth. She had reapplied lipstick.
Kyla was the smallest and the quietest crew member. She spoke to the other Leethog but rarely spoke to Harmon and Clip. It didn’t make any sense.
“Kyla?” Harmon implored. He had an earpiece and a spare comm, so he could now understand them.
“Well,” Kyla said. “You were being attacked. Clip said so over the comms. We could not let them kill you. Pirates are very bad. Everyone knows this. The fastest way to get to you was in one of the fighters. They are very fast. Clip said the Zax was in one piece but had no power. I thought someone should go get you. I told Hanktilmotal to go.”
“I was giving a running commentary,” admitted Clip.
“If Hanktilmotal was going to fly a fighter, I was going to fly a fighter. He cannot have all the fun,” Stan stated. The other three Leethog nodded their heads in agreement.
“And the mech?” Harmon asked, looking at Zerith.
“I couldn’t let them capture you, either,” Zerith said. “I knew that the mech could be your engine. I made the thrussterss in it. It is a fine dessign.” All the Leethog nodded in agreement.
Harmon shook his head, smiling. He couldn’t really be angry. It was a stunt he might have pulled…and it had saved his life.
“What’s the deal with the battle suits, then? What was that all about?” Harmon asked.
“Well, they needed to breathe in the fighters. We do not know what the ratio of oxygen is in the cockpit. They had already put comms in all of the suits while we were in orbit around Joth. Sometimes the men take things apart and make them better,” Kyla said, like she was revealing a huge secret. “The suits had comms and the oxygen ratio had been set. And they needed some protection. What if they got shot? The suits we have do not provide any protection. And they fit us. Almost,” Kyla said, holding up an arm with a rolled sleeve. She had taken her gloves off.
“But flying the fighters…I looked at the controls. It takes four hands. How did you manage that?” Harmon asked, looking back at the wannabe fighter pilots.
They looked down at their feet. Harmon looked down, too. Below the rolled-up pant legs on Hank and Stan, their feet were bare. It was the first time he had seen their feet without work boots on. Each foot had three fingers and an opposable thumb.
Harmon thought about the fighter’s cockpit. The seat was designed in a reclining position. The more he thought about it, he realized that there weren’t any foot pedals. Everything was designed to be operated by that race’s four hands. He was beginning to rethink selling the battlecruiser.
Harmon had to smile as the Leethog wiggled their toes at him. “Thanks, everybody; I mean that,” he said.
While Harmon was talking with the Leethog, Clip had been looking at the sensor screen. He couldn’t see any signs of power from any of the four ships. They were all drifting, and if they wanted to make some credits off the salvage of those ships, they needed to stop them.
“Jayneen, can the tractor beams lock onto those ships if we get near?” he asked.
“Yes, I believe so. If they do not have their thrusters operating, that is,” Jayneen said.
“Let’s run them down, then,” Harmon said.
The crew left the bridge, talking among themselves. Zerith followed shortly after to check on things in the engine room. It was quiet for a minute.
Clip looked at Harmon and said, “The mech was hooked to the fighter.” He was grinning.
“I don’t think even I would have done that,” Harmon said. And he meant it.
* * * * *
Chapter Eighteen
They managed to stop the four damaged ships, and it took them two days to move them to the same area. They put them in a high orbit around the last planet in the system, a small, frozen planet.
During the process, they pulled twenty-two survivors from the wrecks. An additional twelve were saved from escape pods. Once they were brought onboard by Harmon in the mech, they were marched by Hank and Stan to a compartment with one door and were locked in. They gave no sign of resistance; it was almost as if they had no purpose and were lost.
Hank and Stan piled their weapons in the weapons vault. They had taken quite a few pistols and several rifles from the Krift. Zerith and the brothers removed several laser turrets from the smallest ship. He figured they might be something he could mount on the Hauler.
They took their prisoners to the space port. When they docked and entered the port, a Nilt was waiting for them. She was four feet long, almost round, and hovering about five feet off the deck. Harmon could hear her wings buzzing but couldn’t see them as more than a blur. Behind her were a dozen smaller yellow and black Nilt, also hovering.
“I am Lilith, queen of this port. Do you wish for us to pay for protection?” the Nilt asked through the translator.
“Pay? No. We will do well salvaging their ships,” Harmon said. “We have some prisoners for you. I’m sure your system can try them for piracy and deal with them.”
“We can do this. They will be put to work on the farms. There are several queens that would gladly take them and work them until they die,” she said.
“Until they die? It beats being executed, I guess,” Clip said.
“They get what they desserve,” Zerith stated.
“I am prepared to purchase the ships from you. My workers can salvage them. We are willing to pay now for the salvage rights. Consider it our thanks,” the Nilt said.
It was hard to pass up. Getting paid without having to spend the time salvaging the ships was a sweet deal. Harmon was really thinking about not selling the battlecruiser now. Maybe they should try and figure out how to hire a crew. They could go back to visit Joth on the Hauler and keep a crew on Salvage Title in a nearby system.
They spent a day at the port finalizing the deal for the ships and making sure the credits hit their accounts, which were starting to look impressive. The crew members looked at their personal accounts and were at a loss for words. The ships could eventually be repaired. It would cost a lot, but it was far cheaper than purchasing new ships. The Nilt had a small shipyard orbiting their planet and could do it. They paid eight million credits.
“Where should we go? We can’t go home, that’s for sure,” Clip said as they were headed toward the gate.
“Anywhere iss fine with me,” Zerith said. He was happy he had scored two jars of the sweetener.
“I don’t know,” Harmon said. “Maybe we should hire a crew and hunt pirates. A lot of systems will pay good credit to anyone that rids their system of them. You can find inquiries right on the net.”
“Where would we get a crew?” Clip asked. “You want a ship full of Leethog taking things apart and putting them back together? I heard all the male Leethog are that way. Too curious for their own good. Why do you think that when Kyla gave Hank his orders, he jumped? I think the females in that race are the level-headed ones.”
“Harmon, Clip, Zerith,” Jayneen interrupted. “I think you should watch the news videos. The entire first fleet of the Tretrayon Defense Fleet is no more.” The AI put the galactic news feed on the main screen.
There was a story from the Leatara system. Leatara was a human world that had an ongoing dispute with the Squilla over mining rights, a recurring thing with them. The Squilla would swoop in when there were new discoveries and claim they had been there first. Lately, no one had prospected near their system.
It seemed the rumors Evelyn had told him were true. Half of the Tretrayon Fleet had gone to the Leatara system, hired as a show of force. The twenty-eight ships had more than doubled the number of ships defending the system.
A total of one hundred Squilla warships had come through the gate. They had lost fifty of them but had destroyed the entire defense force. There would be no rescue for the survivors of the fleet, either, as the Squilla tradi
tionally let rescue pods float. History had shown they didn’t answer distress calls.
Only one ship, the heavy battlecruiser TDF Carthon, had managed to escape through the gate. Reports were that it was running on one fusion plant and leaking atmosphere. That was the ship Evelyn was attached to—it held an entire company of Marines.
Harmon knew that even if Evelyn survived that battle, she might not survive the next. The Squilla would finish destroying that planet and would claim it as their own. Then, when the Squilla were done with Leatara, they would seek revenge against the system that had helped stand against them.
And, in that part of the galaxy, there would be no rescue coming. Other races would not come to Tretra’s aid. Earth was too far removed to worry about it. There was no “human alliance.” Tretra had sent the fleet to Leatara for credits and no other reason. The Tretrayon System was on its own, and the Squilla would come. They knew the system was vulnerable.
“Jayneen. Lay in the coordinates for the Leethog System,” Harmon said.
“Leethog? You mean…” Clip asked, his eyes wide.
“Yep, we’re about to go get us a crew…God help us,” Harmon said. “Call the crew to the bridge, please, Zerith.”
* * * * *
Chapter Nineteen
Many races traded with the Leethog and came to the system to hire crew members, and Salvage Title came through the gate into a system teeming with traffic. Harmon had explained to the crew what happened to the Tretrayon’s fleet and that he intended to get a full crew and see what the battlecruiser was capable of. Whoever he hired would have to learn quickly, because he intended to take the ship back to Joth and help defend the system. When he asked them if they would like to stay onboard or be taken home, they didn’t hesitate—their answer was to stay.
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