“Are you sure? Why do you want to stay? It is going to be dangerous. None of us may survive,” Harmon said, moved that they would not consider leaving.
Kyla tilted her head, pushed her goggles up on her forehead, and said, “We are associates.”
“What? I don’t understand,” Harmon said. He looked at Clip and Zerith, and they both shrugged.
“Associates. Tomeral and Associates. We are associates. We receive a percentage of profit. We do not receive a salary. Whoever you hire will be paid a salary. Correct?” she asked.
“Well, yes, I guess they will,” Harmon said, starting to understand.
“They will be employees, not associates,” Vera explained, as if it made all the sense in the galaxy.
Three heads were bobbing. Clip and Zerith smiled and bobbed their heads in imitation. Harmon just shook his and smiled back. If nothing else, he had loyal friends.
“Well, you just got a raise in percentage,” Harmon said. He looked over at his friends.
“Five perccent each,” Zerith said.
Harmon thought it was fair but was surprised. Zerith was kind of tight with his credits. Clip nodded. There were teeth everywhere on four nodding heads.
“We are going to your home world, anyway,” Harmon said. “We need a crew, and your people seem to specialize in hiring onto ships and living away from your system.”
“We do,” Hank said. “It can be very boring on our world. Everything has already been taken apart and fixed. Idle hands can get one into trouble. You will have no problem finding Leethog to do the job.”
“And,” Kyla added, right before they left the bridge, “they better do their job well or they will answer to me.” At this, Hank and Stan stopped smiling and nodded their heads slowly. She was serious.
There was a large spaceport near the planet Leethog. Harmon called ahead to reserve a berth. It had forty docking arms, and twenty-eight were already occupied. The ships there ranged from small personal craft to huge vacation liners. Several merchant ships too big to dock waited nearby. Cargo shuttles could be seen coming and going, either loading or offloading goods. There was definitely more activity here than their home system ever saw.
“Salvage Title. Defense Platform 10,” a translated voice came over the comm.
Jayneen put it on the screen for Harmon to answer. Clip looked up from his slate where he had been writing a program. Harmon had no idea what it was.
“Defense Platform 10. Salvage Title,” Harmon answered, looking at a Leethog in a uniform.
“Please state your destination and intentions,” he said.
“This is a privately-owned ship. We intend to dock at the spaceport and post a help wanted advertisement in the system. We are looking to hire a full crew,” Harmon said.
“Our sensors indicate you are a warship, are you not?” the Leethog asked.
“That is correct,” Harmon said, not sure where this was going.
The Leethog on-screen muted the call, and Harmon could see him turn and look away from his screen. His hands were moving everywhere as he spoke. His head started bobbing, and there was that grin. Clip looked over and raised an eyebrow.
“Salvage Title, would you be interested in an experienced weapons crew of ten?” he asked.
“Absolutely. We will be docked at berth thirty-six until we have filled all positions,” Harmon said.
“This may be easier than we thought,” Clip said.
“There will be Leethog throughout my ship…our ship. You know what I mean. I will be distressed until they put back together everything that they take apart. Please tell me that you have a good hunch, Harmon,” the AI said.
“Don’t sweat it, Jayneen. What could go wrong?” Harmon responded.
“I do not sweat, and I have heard that before,” the AI answered.
Clip posted an advertisement on the local system’s help wanted board. Harmon made sure the ad said it would be a dangerous job. They didn’t want to mislead anyone. The Salvage Title was a warship, and they would see action.
They received over three hundred replies within the first two hours. Zerith suggested that Jayneen go through the applications and narrow it down to people with actual experience in the positions they needed to fill as she knew the ship and what they were looking for.
The entire crew from Defense Platform 10 was hired, as well as crews from two other platforms. Six pilots from one of the destroyers in the Leethog’s fleet applied. Harmon realized a lot of members of the local fleet were applying. He had Jayneen put in a call to the commander of the fleet. She had no problem securing a link to the headquarters comm.
“Ma’am, I am Harmon Tomeral. We may have a situation here, and I would like to clarify some things before I upset you and the system government,” Harmon said.
Jayneen had placed the call and put it on-screen. An admiral in full uniform was looking at him. She was an older Leethog with whiter fur on her face than her crewmembers.
“Lieutenant Tomeral, I recognize you. I was very interested in your system’s fleet Marine competition. I feel we could use something like that here in our system. Let me offer you a belated congratulations,” Fleet Admiral Lucytileerlot said.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Harmon said, a little surprised word had spread this far.
“I understand some of my fleet may be looking to jump ship,” she said.
Harmon winced. “It was never my intention to cause that, ma’am,” he said.
“I have given permission for a leave of absence to any that wishes to obtain combat experience. It is not something that can be obtained in our system. It is their choice,” she said.
“Ma’am, I can’t guarantee that any will make it back home,” Harmon said.
“That is the nature of our profession, Lieutenant. I wish you good luck,” she said as she signed off.
Within three days, the Salvage Title had a full crew of experienced members. Harmon had hired one hundred and fifty Leethog. The eight of them, including Jayneen, had discussed the fact that extra personnel could come in handy if there were injuries or emergency repairs that needed to be made. It was a somber discussion.
Harmon figured they had about ten more days to shake out the ancient battlecruiser and see what it was capable of. For the first three days, he spent the time trying to learn who was working in the critical positions as the new crew turned the ship upside down, learning what its systems were capable of. Weapons, tactical, flight operations, engine rooms, and medical. There were many more positions on the ship, and Harmon wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew.
Normally the commander of a ship the size of Salvage Title would have decades of experience. They would have started as an ensign, assigned a duty position on a ship. They would have learned many different positions as they advanced in experience and rank. Their first command would be a small ship, a cutter or a corvette with a small crew.
On the third day, Kyla came to the bridge. She was wearing a uniform like the rest of the crew members. Harmon wondered where she got it. He did a double take. There was no patch on the shoulder, but she had a rank on her collar.
“Hi, Kyla,” Harmon said. “Um, what are you wearing?”
“I work for Senior Chief Warrant Officer Farnog. I am a technician. It is my power plant. Every being assigned to work there works for me. This is the flagship of Tomeral and Associates and I am a chief warrant officer. I have studied fleet rank. You are a captain,” Kyla said.
“Whoa, slow down. Captain? Not hardly,” Harmon said.
“I have been listening to the Leethog speaking to each other. They refer to you as the captain, Clip as the commander, and Zerith as the senior chief warrant officer,” Jayneen said.
“This has gone too far,” Harmon said.
“No, I think Kyla is right. If you’re going to lead this crew into a battle, you have to have the rank. I’ve never been in any type of military, and even I know that,” Clip said.
“But captain?” Harmon asked.
“I have brought these uniforms for you,” Kyla said, putting down the bundle she had been holding. “They are your sizes,” she added.
“Thanks, I guess,” Harmon said.
“Oh, and Lieutenant Commander Jayneen, could you change the translations on all systems from Earth Common to Leethog? I think things will go much smoother,” Kyla asked, looking up at the console.
“Yes, I can do that,” the AI answered.
“Thank you,” said the chief warrant officer. She left the bridge.
“Why didn’t we think of that?” Clip asked.
“She called me lieutenant commander,” the AI said.
“Well…Lieutenant Commander Seven-Eleven-Two-whatever else it is, don’t change my station to Leethog. Clip may be smart enough to learn it, but I don’t know how to read whistles, growls, and hisses,” Harmon said. He threw a uniform to Clip and went to find Zerith.
Later, as he stepped out of the lift, he noticed there was a different feel to the battlecruiser. It was as if the old girl had gained a life of its own. There were the sounds of fighters leaving the ship and coming in for landings, the slight vibrations as turrets turned as one to lock in on imagined targets, and the sound of the Leethog talking in their rapid language.
It was discovered that the ship had full missile racks including enough in reserve to reload all their racks three times. Harmon figure that it was enough for three battles, but he hoped they would not find out. Once they were out of missiles, there wouldn’t be any more, and the entire missile system would have to be replaced to accommodate missiles that he could purchase.
He was relieved to find out the missiles onboard had powerful warheads. Jayneen assured him the records showed they were very destructive, but not radioactive. The last thing they needed was to use some kind of ancient nuclear weapon. One hint of that, and the Bith would shut down the gate in the offender’s system permanently. This had happened to two systems he knew of. He had learned about them in Galactic Military History 101.
The ship had hundreds of small lasers mounted on its hull. They were networked together in groups as close anti-missile defense. They were next to last resort, ahead of the shields.
There were eighty small sliding hatches on the ship. Beneath the hatches were racks of four small missiles. They were smaller than the missiles the fighters carried, only the size of Harmon’s forearm. They served the same anti-missile purpose the lasers did, but they would stop missiles farther out. In the head of each missile was a shaped charge with a handful of steel balls. A missile moving at incredible speed would be devastated if it met a single ball.
They were “fire and forget” weapons. The rockets quickly burned through their fuel; however, they reached an incredible speed in that time.
All of this was tied into the tactical officer’s position and the weapons console on the bridge. It was also connected to the defensive bridge in the center of the ship. Jayneen had explained the purpose of the defensive bridge was close defense. The room and its occupants were not responsible for evasive maneuvers; instead, they monitored the long-range sensors and computers that determined the best firing solutions to destroy incoming missiles before they reached the shields. Four consoles and a slightly raised command center filled the compartment. Now that Harmon had crew members who could pilot the ship, he decided that Clip should handle the defensive bridge with Jayneen there to aid in calculations and give the ship a better chance of surviving battles. It allowed the crew of the command bridge the freedom to maneuver and fight without worrying about defense as much.
Twelve large pulse canons were mounted within the ship. They could fire every ten seconds after recharging the energy banks at each site. There were two on the bow and the stern. With four port and starboard, they used a great deal of energy. A portion of it was diverted from each of the four reactors on the ship. It was designed to ensure there would be no power loss to the canons, even if a reactor failed.
They practiced firing the canons at asteroids to ensure the targeting was accurate. The pulse could be felt by everyone on board. It wasn’t something that interrupted other operations, but there was no doubt when they fired. The energy blast would pound shields until they overloaded and then pound the vessel. The asteroids broke off in chunks. If they worked liked Jayneen had described against shields, the Squilla were in for a nasty surprise.
Most fleets relied on missiles as their primary offensive weapons and lasers when the ships came close enough. Lasers would overload shields, but it took time. Blunt force against shields was a different matter, hence the preferred missiles. Salvage Title was just a medium battlecruiser, but the pulse cannon, an ancient weapon by an extinct race, was the great equalizer.
Down in the bay, the pilots practiced taking off and landing in the sleek fighters. The bay became an actual flight deck. Hatches were sealed, the artificial gravity was turned off in that section, and the bay was open to space. Everyone working on deck was suited with Leethog-manufactured suits. The new hires had brought their own with them. The boots were magnetized, and a thin cable was tethered to each suit and clipped to rings set in the deck. Harmon was amazed at how the experienced flight deck crew members moved around as if zero gravity was no hindrance, hooked up at all times.
He had been watching from an observation clear-steel window when he decided to suit up and check on the Zax. It was fully repaired and ready to fly. It was too bad he couldn’t mount the fighter missiles to his craft like the others. The damaged sleek fighter had been repaired, as well. He watched as Hank and Stan taught the experienced pilots how to fly the ancient fighters. The experienced pilots taught the lieutenants how to fly in formation and properly use the comms; Harmon had heard from Clip about the brothers’ first use of it while flying.
As he was leaving the bay area and exiting through the connecting chamber, a room that would cycle the atmosphere so beings could leave the open flight deck, Hank and Stan walked over. They were wearing gloves on all four limbs. Nice, thought Harmon. At least their feet wouldn’t get cold this time.
“Did you see what we did to your Zax?” Hank asked.
Harmon turned quickly to him. “What did you do?” Harmon asked. “It looked fine.”
“We attached a bomb bay,” Stan said.
“A what?” Harmon asked.
“A bomb bay. We put the entire case of incendiary grenades in it,” Hank said. “You can make one bomb run and drop them all. They will cause a lot of damage. The commander said the mixture is stronger than thermite. I think they may even burn through a hull…maybe.”
“Um, thanks,” Harmon said.
He couldn’t see a situation where he would use them, but it was nice to know they were available. It actually wasn’t a bad idea. It would be a surprise to a ship’s crew as they were exposed to space with melted hull dripping in.
Zerith, Kyla, and Vera ran their people through drills where they shut down and restarted the fusion plants and engines. Every being in their department was competent, and Kyla only had to tell them once when they erred for corrections to be made. Vera paced back and forth in the engine room, watching the specialists put panels back on after they had looked in and inspected them, learning what they could about the engines they had never seen before.
Emergency repair crews rushed all over the ship, learning their way around without the use of lifts in case of power failure. They also were the team that would fight if borders needed to be repelled, like Marines in most fleets. They had many extra hands because of the decision to hire extra crew. The Leethog in charge of the repair crew was a really fast talking being named Staff Sergeant Jontilictick. He was the largest Leethog Harmon had seen yet at over five-feet tall and stout. When he barked out a location, his teams scrambled. Harmon liked him; he reminded him of a drill instructor he once had. Big Jon didn’t take no lip.
Clip had Jayneen upload the program he wrote. It changed the oscillating pattern of the ship’s shields, making them twice as strong as the
y already were. It had taken him a while to grasp the programming technique used by its creators, but with Jayneen’s help, he was able to finish it in time.
They were as ready as they were going to be with five days left, and it was time to head through the gate. He made one last call in the system.
“Ma’am, I want to thank you again. Your fleet members are well-disciplined professionals. Many of them came on board with equipment and gear they thought they would need. I’m sure you had a hand in that, as well,” Harmon said.
“You are welcome, though I can neither confirm nor deny that, Captain,” the admiral said.
“My system brought this down upon themselves by getting involved against the Squilla. I would hate for it to happen here,” Harmon said.
“If the Squilla come here, we will be ready. But they would never consider it. Many races are friends with Leethog. Unlike your system, they would have to battle our neighbors as well as us. It would not bode well for them. And…they are cowards and only attack those that cannot stand against them,” the admiral said.
“In my language, we call that a bully, ma’am,” Harmon said.
“Indeed. Take care of my niece, Captain Tomeral. Good luck,” she said as she signed off.
Niece? Harmon thought. “Captain to Engineering,” he said over the comm.
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty
Salvage Title came through the gate in the Tretrayon System moving just ten percent below the capabilities of its G-force dampener. Harmon had planned to be in orbit around Joth inside of four days of entering the system so the ship was moving fast. He figured it would give him a day or two to deal with the system government and the issues he expected by returning with the ship. He was wrong.
As soon as they emerged, the tactical officer, Lieutenant Adamtilabon, cried out, “Contact! Twenty ships inbound…ahead of us by one day. Three ships within missile range off to starboard, headed away. All ships are confirmed Squilla.”
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