The huge liner was named Pride of Norta, though Cale was certain that was not her first registration. She was actually large enough to take Cheetah into one of her empty cargo holds, so Cale had Tess move in. With the hold pressurized, Cale and Dee could move freely between the two.
Cale’s first order of business was to check on the condition of the liner. Surprisingly, though well worn, she was in completely operable condition. Ber Nabel had bought her at auction on Norta. Since a Beta-Class normally had a crew of over three hundred, she was too big for him to run by himself, even with the AI’s help, so he’d hired a temporary skeleton crew to bring her to Torlon and put her into orbit. She’d been here almost fifteen years.
Apparently, though, there were few Beta-class liners still operating, and Nabel had had no call for parts of the huge Pride. Since Nabel had bought her at a bankruptcy auction, he’d bought her with everything she contained when she had been seized, which turned out to be nearly everything she needed to operate. Her cargo holds were mostly empty (though Cale intended to check out those mysterious boxes and crates remaining in the aft hold), but her storerooms seemed to be nearly full. As Nabel had mentioned long ago, he had been using the Pride as his orbital headquarters, so he’d never shut her down, instead occasionally supplementing her fuel with fuel taken from other hulks. There would be no problem maintaining a dozen or so workers for a month or two. If he’d had enough crew, Cale marveled, he could have simply taken her to Vishnu himself to bring the workmen! Oh, he might need to replenish her atmosphere plant, and the hydroponics section had become an impenetrable jungle, but overall, he was the proud owner of a perfectly usable ship!
Of course, that fact was a lot less impressive than it sounded. Beta-class liners were big ships, used to transport passenger lists of over a thousand in sybaritic luxury. Curious, Cale and Dee had the ship’s AI, which Cale had named, Bet, show them one of the Pride’s Super-Class Suites. That single suite was larger than Cheetah’s entire passenger section. The wine-colored wall-to-wall carpeting was over two centimeters deep. The corridor door led into the spacious sitting room, with several heavily padded sofas covered in exotic animal hide. These were grouped around a low real wood table whose top was inlaid with a grown-crystal surface.
The real wood of the table was duplicated in the sumptuous paneling of the walls. One of the largest viewscreens Cale had ever seen occupied the far wall. At present, it was displaying the starfield displayed by the main viewscreen on the bridge. One corner of the large space was occupied by a large bar in gleaming metal, well populated with an assortment of bottles and glasses. On each side of the large sitting room were doors leading to the two bedrooms. They explored the one Bet said was the largest.
The bed was large enough for four, or six if they were close friends. The ceiling over the bed hosted an oversized holovision screen, this one inactive now. The carpet in here, as lush as that in the sitting room, was a very light blue, which was echoed in the covers on the bed. One wall featured a large vanity table, complete with three-sided viewer and a liberal supply of beauty products. Dee squealed in delight and headed for this, but Cale headed her off and directed her to the ‘fresher. Actually, the term ‘fresher was totally inadequate to describe the large room they entered. Here the carpeting changed to a white, with a different texture. In place of the large plas bag that the usual ‘fresher used to avoid wasting water in space, this room featured an open tub, large enough for three, with no less than six nozzles to provide water or steam. A large button on the wall controlled a clear plas bubble that lowered around the tub, presumably to prevent the leakage of water, if the occupant cared to be bothered. The various knobs and handles controlling all the facilities were plated in what Cale had no doubt was real gold, and the amenities included the thickest fabric towels he had ever encountered, as well as the usual air blast drying nozzles.
As they left the suite, Dee turned to Cale with a grin. “Well,” she said impishly, “At least you won’t suffer if you have to run to your ‘bolt hole’ to hide!”
Cale grinned and shook his head. “Too overwhelming for me, I’m afraid. I’m a man of simple tastes.”
Their tour had shown them, though, that despite air recirculation and frequent cleaning, fifteen-year-old mattresses and fabrics became musty and rotten. Luckily, Pride had a large supply of replacements in vacuum storage. By the time Zant arrived with the work crew, Pride’s army of spider-shaped mechs had clean, fresh, and sweet-smelling staterooms ready for them. Normally, of course, those mechs serviced only the lower-class accommodations. The upper decks had been staffed by human servants, from cooks to cleaners to personal attendants, when required. Cale actually had to override a prohibition in Bet’s programming forbidding her mechs from visiting the upper decks when humans were present.
Of course, the work crews wouldn’t be using the upper decks anyway. The lower decks were much more convenient to the workshops and airlocks they would be using.
When Zant contacted Cale upon emerging from jump and approaching with comm range, he was obviously depressed and even angry.
“I brought three dozen,” he told Cale in a challenging tone, “and I’d have brought three dozen more if I’d had a larger ship!”
Cale’s reply was puzzled. “All right,” he said mildly. “You know our needs and our resources. Three dozen should help us get done quicker, and I guess you decided we could afford them.”
Cale’s attitude plainly took Zant by surprise. His hunched shoulders relaxed, and his belligerent expression faded to one of sadness. “Deity, Cale, you should have seen it,” he began, “No, maybe you shouldn’t. I sure wish I hadn’t. People were starving, Cale. The government tried to seize the food aboard our ship. I actually saw two women fighting – physically fighting – over a bucket of grass one of them had gathered in a park. Grass, Cale!
Cale frowned. “I’ve seen starving people, Zant. I’ve been one. You tell them we have a big, comfortable ship for them to stay in, and plenty of food for them to eat. Tell them that as long as they do their best for us, we’ll take good care of them.”
Zant breathed a huge sigh of relief, and a shadow of his usual smile reappeared. “Thanks, Cale. It was really bad, kid. When I kicked those government creeps off the ship, and announced what we needed on the Worldnet, we were practically mobbed. There’s a good man running the groundside port there. He put armed men all around the port in exchange for ship’s rations for them. Workers were lined up for more than a kilometer. The Port Manager put a man to asking each person about their shipyard experience before he would let them onto the port. I still could have hired hundreds. As it is, I’ve got thirty-eight. None of ‘em has less than ten years’ orbital ship yard experience. Twelve of them have crew leader experience, and three have project management experience.” His eyes took on a haunted look. “All of ‘em wanted to bring their families. But even hiring a Din-class I didn’t have room aboard! I gave ‘em all a month’s pay in advance, so they could leave it with their families.”
“A month’s pay?” Cale asked. “I doubt the project will take that long. At least I hope not.”
Zant flushed. “I know,” he said guiltily. “And I agree, the quicker the better. But these people were almost pathetically grateful. I think we’ll get the best from every one of them.”
His image darkened again before he continued, “Uh, I might as well tell you the rest. I told ‘em that if our plan worked, we might let ‘em use one of the hulks to move their folks off-planet. Uh, I maybe kinda hinted that they might even be allowed to remain on Ilocan.” At Cale’s raised eyebrow, he continued defensively, “If this works, I’m sure I’ll be able to talk them into it. After all, these’ll be the folks who fixed up the ships and then crewed them into possible battle. Sheol, they’ll be blasted heroes!”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
Zant shrugged. “They’ll probably be dead, those as were crewin’ the ships.”
Cale grinned. “Along with us. I a
gree, Zant. Okay, we’ll have hot meals ready for all of you when you arrive.”
Zant looked relieved. “Good. We’ve been on short rations ever since leaving Vishnu, six ship’s weeks ago.” His usual grin resurfaced. “The Captain hasn’t been really happy with me since we left most of our ship’s rations behind!”
Zant and the work crews were delighted with the Pride. The ship’s interworld-class chef program had a number of recipes from Vishnu, and the grins from the work crew were universal and wide.
When Cale met the captain of the Din-class Zant had hired, he was glad that Cheetah was concealed in Pride’s hold. He immediately reminded Cale of several of the Terror’s more prominent pirates, dark, lean, and shifty-eyed. Those eyes didn’t miss a single detail of the luxury evident on the Pride. Cale went to some trouble to stress that the Pride was immobile scrap. The captain loudly and immediately demanded that his looted provisions be replaced, and Cale agreed. He had Tess’s spider mechs transfer some of the supplies he’d purchased on Rama to some of Bet’s mechs, who in turn delivered them to the Captain. The mechs then turned to the much larger job of offloading over a thousand space mines. It was almost thirty hours before the tramp boosted for the jump point.
Cale questioned Zant about the tramp and her captain. “Trust him? Sheol no. He’s as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. But I checked around, and his rep says that once he’s bought, he’ll stay bought. He’s agreed to wipe this trip from his log, and show it as a trip to Vargas. Besides, why should he talk? There’s nothing on or above this groundbound mudball worth coming back for. “
When Cale asked him if the Captain might have overheard him discussing the plan, Zant shook his head. “My mother didn’t raise any fools – except my brother, o’course! Seriously, though, I only talked to the three project managers. We talked in my quarters. I ran a bug scanner over it, and disconnected the ship’s intercom. And it seems I managed to pick up a distorter somewhere.”
Cale smiled. “A distorter? I thought only governments have them.”
Zant shrugged and smiled vaguely. “This one must’ve got lost somewhere. I don’t remember where I got it. Comes in handy, though. Anyway, I talked to the project managers, and told them the whole story and plan. That’s when I told them about maybe lettin’ them use one of the hulks to move their families, and hinted they might be able to stay on Ilocan. I also told ‘em that if they told anyone else, even their own brother, I’d maroon them on Torlon, with no space flight. So I’m pretty sure they didn’t talk.”
Cale nodded. “Okay, then after dinner this evening, you can brief all the others, I guess. No sense trying to keep it secret. I was a bit concerned that if they’d been paid in advance, they might slack off; but you’ve got a couple of pretty good incentives, there.”
Zant’s announcement was a big hit, and all the workers swore undying loyalty. Of course, they had full bellies and warm beds to sleep in at the time.
Zant and Cale used the Pride’s scanners to survey the contents of the orbital scrap yard, with no great success. The scanners simply lacked sufficient detail.
It was Dee who remembered Cale telling her that Alpha and Beta-class liners carried lifeboats. Cale and Zant checked one out. The lifeboats were small spaceships themselves, lacking only a jump drive. They had life support for six months for the crew of two, though one could run them. They also contained twenty stasis units. Moreover, of course they were in pristine condition, unused. Both agreed they were perfect for flitting around an orbital junkyard. They spent three days doing just that, while looking for likely hulls.
Their original list of sixteen possibles shrank to twelve when they examined them more closely. Several of the others had been stripped of their inertial engines, and one was even missing its AI. However, they found an amazing array of weapons, ranging from infantry-model Alliance design quickfirers to a nuclear-pumped planetary defense laser someone had grafted into a Chata-class freighter. Zant made a note of that one; he decided it would make an excellent “poor man’s planetary defense satellite” if towed into position and made livable. Cale just shrugged. “Maybe, for later” was all he said.
They called a meeting with their three managers to discuss the possibilities. They supplied the managers with a complete list of the sixty-three vessels in the orbital scrap yard, and a summary of their survey. Not surprisingly, the managers decided to make their own survey, which took another two days, and differed considerably from Cale and Zant’s.
“You judge too much by appearances,” said the oldest of the three, who usually acted as spokesman for the group. He was a thin, gray-haired man whose name was Bhamaramputra, but who insisted they call him “Rama, like the planet.” “A number of these vessels could be made spaceworthy using parts from others.” He said flatly. “But you want armed vessels, warships, and that is quite different from simply getting them spaceworthy. Frames must be strengthened. Bulkheads reinforced. Battle comps and AI's must be installed, and life support systems armored and backed up. It is no small thing to make a warship.”
"They don't need to be real warships," Zant protested. "Mostly they'll be fighting unarmed freighters and a few minesweepers."
"We have built minesweepers," Rama replied. "They are warships, and are designed like warships. They are lightly armed, it is true, but they have good shields and strong frames and hulls."
"Well," Cale put in, "What do we do?"
"Forget ships," Rama said. "Assemble one large base ship, perhaps a Din-class, for each system. This ship does not fight; it serves as a base. Then use gunboats. Small vessels with much maneuverability and speed, but little armor. Mount a weapon on the centerline, so the pilot aims it by aiming the boat. Two or three such could easily overwhelm a minesweeper."
Cale was disgusted. "Where are we supposed to get boats?" he asked. "I'm lucky we've got ships!"
Rama smiled gently. "You already have many. This ship has sixteen."
Zant got it first. "The lifeboats! He's talking about the lifeboats!"
Cale thought about it. They'd used one of the lifeboats to survey the yard. As he remembered, it was not a particularly high-performance vessel. On the other hand, if you removed twenty stasis units, they might be quite a bit livelier. "But this is the only liner," he protested. "On second thought," he added, "sixteen might be enough for two systems."
Rama shook his head. "You will need more. You must give the pilots shifts and rest times. That is the purpose of the base ship. And there will be losses. But it is no worry," he added. "All Alpha and Beta class ships carry lifeboats. Not so many as a liner, but a few." He consulted his list of ships. "I would estimate at least twenty-five boats available, and possibly thirty."
"I don't know," Cale said. "What do you think, Zant?"
Zant had no doubts. "I think Rama's a genius!" he replied. "Lifeboats almost never get used; if they do, they're usually replaced. Strip out the lifeboat furniture to make it faster and more maneuverable, add a laser, and you've got an attack boat – a new attack boat. No worries about worn out parts failing, or stuff having been removed. We can round up dozens of various-sized lasers and quickfirers. And we can carry six or eight boats in a Din-class, maybe more."
Cale was nodding, now, convinced. "Do you think we can talk the pilots into it?"
Zant shrugged. "If not, they're not the people we need!"
They used the lifeboat they'd already used to survey the yard. The Vishnu techs removed the twenty stasis units, as well as all the associated medical and other emergency equipment. They mounted a laser and fusactor from a corvette on the boat's centerline, and engraved a targeting grid on the viewport in front of the pilot.
Then Zant took the boat for a test drive. Of course, there was no shortage of derelicts for him to target, but he treated it like a rehearsal for combat. He spent over two hours looping far outside the orbit of Torlon, and then came driving back at max acceleration. As he approached the orbital yard, he began madly zigzagging, rolling, and looping, as though e
vading the fire of an enemy. Suddenly he dodged toward the hulk they had selected as his target, steadied for a moment, and then jerked away, looping far out while maneuvering madly. When he had completed his loop, he again boosted max toward the hulk, swinging past it at the last moment.
He came back enthusiastic. "She's not really as fast as she looks," he said. "But she'll pull almost 3G's if she's got the room to build the accel. All that mass we took out also makes her maneuver a lot better. As far as the attack itself, targeting was a dead cinch. It took no attention at all. I used the rescue ranging radar to make sure of a hit first time, every time. It's no Strengl, but for our purposes, it'll do."
That reminded Cale. "By the way," he said, "there's a Strengl in the ground yard. But it's missing its inertial drive."
"What!" Zant cried. "You forgot about a strokin' Strengl? How could anyone forget something like that?" He rounded on Rama. "How about it? Have we got an ID that'll work in a Strengl?"
Rama shrugged. "It is possible. However, please remember that the ship has been stored outside in a planetary atmosphere for an unknown length of time. It may be unusable." He looked up at Torlon. "The night side is approaching. Examination of the ship will have to wait until tomorrow. In the meantime, I assume we are to continue with the lifeboat conversions?"
"Oh, yeah," Zant shot back. "They're the best chance we've got right now. That is, unless Cale 'remembers' a few dozen more Strengl's!"
Cale grinned. "Sorry, all out. But we might also check for workboats, gigs, barges, and other assorted small craft. You never know what you might find in a scrap yard!"
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