"No, but watch this." I slid the chamber closed and aimed at Nick's pile of bags and squeezed off a couple of darts. The darts made a pffft sound as they left the gun and ripped into the bags, making small holes where they entered.
"Neat." That was Nick speak for 'I am not as impressed as you are, but need you to shut up because I am thinking about something else.'
I holstered the gun, then removed the holster and placed it on the counter of what I now recognized as the galley.
"Want me to pick anything up on my way back from the garbage transfer station?"
"Yes. I printed five parts on the Mercantile printer, can you bring 'em back?"
It took me the better part of half an hour to move all of the bags through the airlock. The transfer station was on the bottom of P-Zero. It wasn't a particularly busy part of the station at this time of day, so I flew my ore sled into the docking bay and parked next to the bins.
I didn't notice their approach while I was unloading. I realized something was wrong when the man I thought was a worker approached me with his face shield obscured. I decided the best answer was to continue with what I was doing. He followed me over to the drop-off bin and when I turned around he blocked the path back to my sled. Two more people were standing further back.
"Hey, I don't want any trouble." I held out my hands, attempting to be as non-threatening as possible.
"Too late for that. You shoulda left things alone, but you had to be the hero." The other two approached and the one who was talking flicked his wrist, causing a baton to extend. This didn't look good.
"What do you want? I don't know what you're talking about."
"You gonna give that ship back or we gonna mess up your family. Yeah, we know who you are, Hoffen. You got a pretty mom. Hate to see something bad happen to her."
That was over the line. I swung at him, but it was clumsy. I had no experience brawling and he did. He blocked my swing and chopped at my knee with his baton. The knee exploded with pain. Then he punched and kicked me for the better part of several minutes.
For the second time in as many weeks, I woke up in a hospital bed. I had a flashback and thought I saw Tabby sitting next to me. I was disappointed when I came to enough to realize it was just my mom and Nick. Every part of my body hurt.
"We gotta stop meeting like this." My attempt at humor got a small smile from Nick, but mom looked worried. "Anything broke?" It was impossible for me to tell.
Mom answered. "No, but what happened? They found you at the transfer station. What's going on, Liam?"
"I don't know, Mom." The guy's comment about her made my stomach turn. "Did Big Pete come in with you?"
She was suspicious. "Yes, why?"
"I think I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Did they take the sled?"
Deputy Stella Bound said "Knock, knock," and pushed the curtains apart. "Mr. Hoffen, do you have a couple of minutes?"
Mom's protective instinct popped up. "Do you have to do this now?"
I stopped her. "It’s fine."
Deputy Bound stepped in. "Do you know who did this?"
"No."
"Did you get a good look at them?"
"Basic vac-suit with darkened face masks. There were three of them."
"What did they want?"
"No idea." Okay, that wasn't true, but I wasn't feeling overly trusting at this point.
"What are you into, Mr. Hoffen? People don't just get attacked for no reason."
Mom wasn't having any of that. "Are you serious? Liam gets mugged and you blame him? How about you review the vids, track these guys down and put 'em in jail?"
"Mrs. Hoffen, I'm sorry. That came out wrong. Liam, do you have any idea what this might be about?"
"No idea." I had some idea, but I would be talking that through with Gregor Belcose.
Deputy Bound continued. "We found your sled piled into the side of the station. Someone has it in for you, Hoffen. You might want to help us figure that out." She was out of questions and excused herself.
Once I had my suit back on, I sent a ping over to Big Pete and asked if he could meet me on Sterra's Gift. It was an easy trip from the hospital up to the Mercantile and from there up through the James' Rental shop's back lift.
Big Pete was standing outside Sterra's Gift when we got there.
"Want the penny tour?" I asked.
"Sure. Glad to see you keep it locked up. Never know who you might find skulking around." Big Pete sounded almost cheerful.
I led him up to the bridge, showing him the sleeping compartments along the way. I was glad I'd removed a lot of the trash, but seeing it through Dad’s eyes made me painfully aware of how long it would take to get it ship-shape.
"Let's grab a seat in the captain’s quarters," I suggested.
"And I thought this was a social visit." Big Pete was definitely in a good mood. It threw me off balance. Grumpy would have made sense. I was a little surprised we were still talking.
"Dad, they threatened you and mom."
That got his attention.
"Who threatened Silver?"
"The guys who attacked me."
Big Pete stood up and hit his comm.
"Where are you, Silver?" He paused to listen. "Okay. Don't leave there, not even with someone you know." Another pause. "No. We'll talk when I get there." One last pause and I could hear her voice rise in pitch. "Finishing up with Liam in a few minutes. Don't go anywhere."
"Where is she?" He had me concerned.
"Gravel Pit. Public place at dinner time. She'll be okay there for now. Tell me what you know."
I relayed what the thugs had said to me.
"Dad, you have to keep this to yourself, but the Navy says it’s a criminal corporation called Red Houzi. They think the pirates that attacked the refinery are the same ones who were responsible for attacks on Baru Manush and some of the other colonies."
"You aren't trained to deal with this, Liam. These guys are playing for keeps."
That set me back, "Do you think I should return the ship?"
"No. That won't change anything. Don't worry. I'll take care of your mom. Their mistake was giving us a warning. You know Silver and I met in the Marines, right?"
"What? Mom's a teacher."
"Sure is. A darned good one too. Point is, we'll be okay, but you need to start observing some security protocols. You have any arms?"
"Flechette pistol count?"
"Yes. I'm guessing you weren't wearing it."
"No, didn't think I needed to."
"Well, they aren't pros. It’s a stupid message. Either take the ship or don't. No point in being all dramatic. You boys need to carry a weapon at all times. Always travel together. Stay aware and keep your suit up when outside the ship. I'll send you a suit subroutine that will scan a ten meter perimeter around you. If someone breaks that bubble, you start paying attention."
Big Pete continued, "Any security routines running on this tub?"
Nick, who had joined us from the engine room answered, "No, we've been trying to get basic functions up and going."
"I'll come back tomorrow and get that running. Keep it locked up."
Miner, huh? I told dad I got attacked and that they were coming after him and Mom, and he was all smiles. He said more words in the last ten minutes than I'd heard from him in the last year.
"I'm going to pick up Silver. I probably freaked her out a bit."
"We need another flechette. Any suggestions where to get one?"
"I'll bring one tomorrow. You need to get off station. You're too open here. Does she sail yet?"
"Tomorrow."
"Got it. Get some sleep and be careful."
We saw Big Pete out. Once the airlock was closed, I started to feel like we were in a prison.
"You still good with this?" I asked Nick.
"It'll work out. Glad you're okay. Would like to stop picking you up from the hospital though."
It hurt to laugh.
Nick had the bed and I str
etched out on the couch. The stuffing had been pulled out of the cushions but I flipped them over and it wasn't too bad. Every time I rolled over, I could feel where the guy had tuned me up. According to the medical report, I had two cracked ribs and a minor concussion. Sleeping and breathing sucked and the pounding headache wasn't much fun, but everything else wasn't that bad. The medical patches would heal me soon enough.
I woke to a muffled banging sound. I shook the groggy out of my head and rolled off the couch. My ribs felt the same, but my headache was gone. I checked the time, it was 0530. Ensign Lok wasn't due for another hour. I walked back to the galley where I had left the flechette pistol and checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded. Good to go. I went back to the airlock window, but couldn't find the source of the noise and I wasn't about to open the door without being able to see who was out there. The banging continued. It was more of a continuous thumping and got fainter as I moved aft and grew louder forward.
I looked out the armored glass on the port side and saw Big Pete banging the side of the ship with some sort of pipe. He looked up at me and gave a wave. I wasn't sure how he knew that I had entered the bridge, but I suspected it was his own suit's security program.
Hoffen Channel One. "Dad, you could have pinged me."
He was looking through the armored glass of the bridge at me. "Yup, wanted to see how much work we had to do. Good job on the flechette. How many rounds you got in it?"
"Meet me at the airlock." No way was I admitting to not knowing how many darts were in the clip.
Big Pete had a belt holster with a pistol quite a lot bigger than my flechette gun. I hadn't ever seen it before and was surprised to see it resting so comfortably at his waist over his dark blue vac-suit.
"You don't have a single sensor strip left on the hull. Must have sailed in blind, piggy-backed on that freighter. Too bad we don't have schematics, they wouldn't be that expensive to print. The IP cost on those strips would be darn expensive. We should be able to cobble together something, though."
Grant Pete Hoffen physical, engineering access Sterra's Gift. My AI replied with an affirmative chirp.
I saw the reflection on Dad’s eye while he accessed the engineering diagrams. After a couple of minutes, I gave up waiting for him and made my way to the galley. Nick had checked out the water system and declared it to be operational, so I filled a pouch of water and rummaged through the cupboards to see if there was any food. I found a box of meal bars. For most people that would be a meal of last resort, but on the Hoffen claim it was pretty standard fare. I grabbed one for Big Pete and filled another water pouch.
He finally emerged from his browsing frenzy and I handed him a meal bar.
"Find anything good?" I asked.
"Where in Sol did you find a full set of specs?"
"Neat. Right?" I wasn't ready to share everything.
"Well, it'll still cost a few thousand to print a full set of sensor strips. You could probably get by with a lot less, but they will fit a whole lot better than what I had in mind."
Nick shuffled up, trying to look alert. His wavy black hair mashed against the side of his head in an unruly ‘I just got out of bed’ way.
"How do people wake up this early?" he complained.
"All about caffeine, my friend." Big Pete clapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey I found some meal bars, want one? I think mine was mixed berries and nuts." It was an inside joke in the Hoffen family since all meal bars tasted basically the same. A little crunch, a little sweet and if you drank enough water with them you felt full more quickly. I pulled another water pouch out of a drawer, pushed it onto the water dispenser and then handed it and a bar over to Nick.
"What was that about the sensors?" Nick asked, after taking a couple of bites of the bar.
I got him caught up.
"Twenty-two hundred m-creds," he said after we were done.
"What's that?" Dad asked.
"Replicating cost for the sensor strips, plus delivery. They will be here by 1200. Appreciate you checking that out. I caught that yesterday. Hope you don't mind, Liam, but after yesterday I bumped up their priority. We are blind on board."
"Nope, I agree."
"That's some pretty serious cash. You sure you got this?" Dad sounded concerned.
"I think so, Dad. We got lucky being able to salvage the ship. Navy bought the missiles from us, mostly because they wouldn't let us keep them."
"Hmm." That was Big Pete's general word for letting me know he wasn't getting the full picture but wasn't going to ask. "Well, good enough. Now, let me see that pistol of yours."
I handed it over to him, after opening the chamber.
"Who taught you that?" he asked.
"What?"
"You opened the chamber before handing it over to me. If you weren't my own, I would have thought you had some weapons training."
"Oh, I looked it up. Supposed to make sure a weapon isn't loaded before you hand it to someone. Rule number one."
"You remember that. Never accept a weapon unless you know how to secure it." Dad pulled the magazine clip out from the handle and released a small row of darts onto the countertop next to the water dispenser. There were only two darts left. He then pulled the gas cartridge out and released the barrel from the stock. In less than a minute, he had the gun completely stripped down. Dad inspected each part carefully and then pulled a small box out of his duffel. The box contained some little plastic bulbs of oil, a few brushes and rags. He methodically cleaned each piece while Nick and I looked on. He finally seemed satisfied and reassembled the weapon.
"Looks to be in good condition. You should clean it at least weekly. If it's getting a lot of use, you might consider an upgrade. I brought a Colt-F12. It was your mom's but she has been looking to upgrade and I figure with everything that has been going on, this would be a good excuse. I also brought a gas charger and a couple thousand darts, same size as yours."
The airlock started to cycle and before I knew what was happening, Big Pete had his own pistol drawn and was slightly crouched facing the corridor.
"No, Dad, that's Ke Lok. We're expecting him," I said quietly.
He lowered his pistol to his side, but didn't holster it. "Did he ping you?"
"Yeah. Just got it."
"Why does he have your security code? Don't be giving that out so freely." Fortunately, he decided to holster.
Ensign Lok turned the corner to the aft and smiled. I was surprised to see him wearing a civilian vac-suit rather than his Navy issue.
"We have a couple of pallets to unload. You guys want to help?" His eyes came to rest on the battered side of my head where my suit had failed to deflect the club. "What happened to you?"
"Trouble taking out the garbage." I didn't want to get into the entire story with Dad right there and fortunately, either the ensign didn't care or he picked up the clue.
"I see. Well, there isn't much."
"Feels like we are getting a little crowded. Ping me if 1200 isn't going to work," Big Pete said over his shoulder. As he headed to the airlock, I heard him mutter, "You’d think a guy would have free rein at six in the morning."
Nick came back down the hallway, pulling his vac-suit up over his waist.
Once Dad made it through the first door, Ensign Lok turned to me. "Anything we should know about?"
"Which. My head or my Dad?"
"Either?"
"Not really. I got some unwanted attention. Someone wants their ship back and decided to send a message. Dad is looking to install security routines."
"Marine?"
"Retired, yeah, how'd you know?"
"You can always pick ‘em out."
"Hmm ..."
Ke Lok turned out to be pretty decent. When not surrounded by superior officers, he wasn't much different from Nick and myself. He had four years on us and had just graduated from Mars Protectorate Academy in engineering. Once they got started, it took Nick and Ke a couple of hours to install the nav-computer, so
ftware updates and storage systems.
While Nick and Ke worked on the navigation systems, another crewman from the Kuznetsov repaired the holes we had drilled into the hull. Billy was called in by Ke to remove the vac-patches. There were a couple of small decompression events aboard the ship while he filled, welded and repaired the damage. The hassle was worth it, though, because this crewman was a welding genius. The repairs looked better than the entire rest of the hull, as if those small areas were the original ship and the rest of it was a sad parody.
By 1100, Billy, the hull-welding genius, had started on the slug-thrower. No amount of welding would fix the barrel and he resorted to repair-through-replacement. Instead of repairing the single barrel I had damaged, he replaced the entire turret assembly. It was a close enough match to the small guns on the Kuznetsov that he was also able to replicate a collar to fit it in. I was surprised at how easily he lifted the old assembly and swapped it with his replacement. It would have been nearly impossible for Nick and me to repair it with the station's .6 gravity, but Billy had brought along a portable lift and made quick work of it.
When Dad showed back up at 1200, Mom was with him. Ensign Lok and Billy were pulling two mostly empty grav-pallets back to the station's main lift. As if on cue, a pallet with our sensor strips, pulled by a guy I recognized but couldn't put a name with, passed the two out-of-uniform navy men.
I signed for the parts, then Nick and Big Pete set about installing the sensor strips. The parts were perfectly printed to fit the ship's original design. Unfortunately several of the hull patches that had been applied over the years weren't quite as well installed as they could have been and they had to break out a welder and grinder to finish the job. I joined them after a couple of hours and it was well past 2000 when the last strip was installed. We were exhausted.
"Too bad you mucked up that turret. We could give that security routine some teeth," Big Pete complained.
"You were on the ship all afternoon and you still think that turret is messed up?" I asked.
"Yeah, I saw it this morning when I first got here, remember? I saw the holes you and Tabby drilled out with those lasers."
"Well, get your eyes checked. We had them repaired." I still didn't want to bring him in on the Navy's involvement.
Rookie Privateer Page 12
