Hero at Large_Second Edition

by Timothy Ellis

  She proceeded down my back, my arms, and down my back again. After a short pause, she pulled off my briefs, and kept on going down. Once at my feet, I suggested she run her hands from my feet to my head, and down again, to get the energy flow in my body going again. She did it a few times, and asked if I wanted to turn over. I did, although I went quite red in the face as I did so.

  I now regretted not turning on the override, although Alison seemed unconcerned by what was revealed. She kept going on my front side, starting at my feet and doing each leg, went carefully up my left side, before doing the rest of my torso. While she did, I hunted the menus, finally finding the right setting, and the only part of me still feeling stiff, suddenly wasn’t. Alison didn’t seem to notice.

  She finished with my neck. I told her to dry her hands off, and do my whole head as well, which she did. I sat up on the side of the bed, and she sat down next to me.

  "How do you feel now?" she asked me.

  I felt a lot better, and told her so.

  "Did you learn massage as well?" she asked.

  "I did, but only light massage. They prefer not to teach kids the specialist massages until they grow up enough to know if they'll really use them or not. It's part of the life path you select. If you go that way, around eighteen, you get introduced to the other methods to see what aptitude you have. I chose space instead."

  "Show me what you can do," she said.

  She rose, pulled me off the bed, quickly stripped off her dress, top, and briefs, and lay down where I'd been. I stared for a moment, closed my eyes, and asked for reiki energy to flow through my hands while I was doing the massage. I moved to her head, and laid my right hand flat on the crown of her head.

  "Can you feel the heat?" I asked.

  "Yes, that's quite hot."

  "I know. A few of the Masters wanted me to specialize in healing arts, but I was only looking at the stars. Is it too hot?"

  "No, I can handle it."

  "Good."

  I gently massaged her head and neck, coated my hands with gel, and moved slowly down her back, over her butt, and down each leg. I went back up both legs at the same time avoiding the inside of the thighs, and kept going up with both hands spread wide to cover as much back as possible, stopping at her neck. Slowly down again, making sure I didn't miss anywhere. Up again slowly. Down and up again a few more times, quite rapidly. And I stopped.

  "How are you feeling?" I asked her.

  "Wow."

  "That good?"

  "Yes."

  "Want to turn over?" I asked, somewhat huskily.

  She turned. I tried very hard not to stare, but didn't do very well at it. I got a grip, went back to the top of her head, and this time gently massaged her face, down to her neck, shoulders, arms and down her sides, bypassing her breasts, to her stomach area. Down to next to her pubic area, but not touching the hair. My hands slid around the no-go area, and down each leg to the feet. Back up again the same way. And finally a few fast up and backs, completed the massage.

  Just below the navel.

  I moved my right hand to hover just below her naval. The energy turned cold. I turned my hand the other way, palm upwards, and placed the back of my hand against her skin. Cold radiated upward away from my hand. I left it there until some warmth returned, then inverted the hand, and concentrated on pushing some heat in.

  Remove the weapons.

  What sort are they?

  301 blades, 15 points.

  "Have you had an injury where I have my hand?" I asked her.

  "Why yes. I got hit by a stray laser shot, back before the suits became available."

  "I thought so. You have a lot of etheric damage here. Do you understand that?"

  "I think so. You mean we're more than just a body, we exist at higher levels as well? And you're saying I was damaged at other levels than just the body?"

  "Yes. Do you believe in reincarnation?"

  "When you die you get born again in another body?"

  "Yes. Any damage you suffer can be taken into the next lives, and keep being brought forward for as long as it isn't healed. You have a weak spot there. You have previous damage from three hundred and one blades, and fifteen pointed weapons, mainly swords and spears I think, which shows they go back a long time. Would you like me to remove them?"

  "You can do that?"

  "I think so. If I wasn't supposed to, I doubt I'd know about them. Let me try."

  I thought-addressed the one I 'spoke' with, and asked for the weapons to be removed, and the wounds healed.

  Done.

  "How does that feel?"

  "That's incredible. I've always had some pain there, that nothing would get rid of, and now it's gone."

  I took my hand off her stomach and she quickly sat up, pulled me forward, and kissed me. She jumped off the bed, threw the towel towards the bathroom, the pillow back up the top of the bed, pulled the covers back and climbed in. She looked pointedly at my groin.

  "Are you using an override on that?"

  "Yes."

  "Well turn it off, and get in here!"

  I did as she said.

  Fourteen

  I awoke the following morning feeling very content and peaceful. Alison was on one side of me, Amanda on the other.

  I lay there for a bit, wondering if I'd died and gone to heaven.

  I hoped heaven would not be as painful as it was here. My bruises still ached. I sighed quietly, sat up gingerly, crawled down the middle of the bed on to the floor, padded into the bathroom, and proceeded to give those bruises some hot treatment. After toweling off and putting on briefs and socks from the dispenser, I started out just as Amanda came in. As usual straight from bed, she was wearing only her belt, and I quickly turned back on what I'd turned off last night. We smiled at each other as we passed. Alison seemed to be still asleep. After dressing, I hung my night clothes up in the refresh part of the robe, and headed out. Aleesha was in the sitting room, and she bolted upright as I entered.

  "You had a good night?" she enquired.

  "Apparently so," I responded with a smirk.

  I sat down in an easy chair with my pad, and went through accumulated emails. I never did seem to keep up to date with them. There were several job offers to do escort work, which I politely declined for now. The sector and guild bounties seemed to have come in for yesterday's 'work'. I noted them without paying any attention to how much. For the moment, credits were not a concern. The adjudication of the four ships had been made in my favour as well. Amanda appeared, and Aleesha disappeared.

  "Breakfast?"

  "I'm not hungry, you help yourself," I responded.

  She did. I rarely did breakfast. For some reason I function better without it in the mornings. At times, even the thought of food after I get up, is enough to make me feel queasy.

  I brought up a simulation of a ship view field with a HUD overlay, randomly generated from current guild information. I zoomed it in and out a few times, looking at what was showing, and how it was showing. Most of the ships were bracketed in blue, showing friendly status. A group of three were showing as red, meaning enemies. There was a set of grey dots which were missiles. It wasn't really adequate.

  I checked each of the ships against the guild information, and found two were bounty hunters, five were sector militia, and the rest were traders. At least the ship icons showed what kind of ship each was, but knowing who they were could be critical. I took the opportunity to load the ship identification icons into my PC, so if I came across an icon I didn't know, the PC would fill it in automatically. I looked further.

  One of the bounty hunters had a mission current, and his mark was in the system. That was useful to know. If you were the mark, some warning was a good idea, and the HUD should have changed him to a red, since he would have been an enemy to me. If the mark was someone else, it would be useful to know where to stay away from. Missiles don't care who they hit, and stupid people fire the wrong ones sometimes. Better to stay away from a c
ombat about to happen. But also from a salvage perspective, knowing there might be a couple of wrecks about to become available was newsworthy, as wrecks recovered, equaled credits. I started making notes on the overlay I really wanted.

  "Time to go. Tool up," said Aleesha.

  She and Amanda had changed over again without me noticing. I had a habit of doing that, getting so engrossed in something I didn't notice what was going on around me. Could be fatal if I wasn't careful. I checked the sensor package, it was on, and functioning normally. I went over to the desk, and 'tooled up'. No sign of Alison. We headed out the door, Aleesha ahead.

  Just after we exited the main hotel door, Amanda took up position behind me. The three of us strode towards station management, not as fast as we had yesterday, but at a reasonable clip even though I still had an obvious limp. There were a few cautious glances our way, so I assumed we looked lethal. An Ensign met us at the lifts, and escorted us to the General's office. We exchanged good mornings, and I sat facing him across his desk. Amanda was glued beside the door again, and Aleesha was somewhere out in the general office area.

  "How are you holding up after yesterday?" the General asked.

  "Good," I replied. "I got in a nap in the afternoon, and we had a great meal in the evening."

  "We'll be buying your five Gladiators from you. It's quicker than building new ones, and the Talons we previously relied upon don't seem to be able to handle the Gladiators too well, so there seems no point in buying more of them. We need some ships out there patrolling as soon as possible. I've sent offers to Bob Derr, and we'll deal through him. He's already working on them. I didn't think you'd mind."

  "Not at all. I don't want them, I just told Bob to keep any ordnance left over for me."

  "Have you decided what you'll get?"

  "Not yet. I'll have a look at the options after I leave you."

  "Right, let me know when you have a ship, and are ready to work."

  "About the work General, what are you going to be asking of me?"

  "Not what you think," he said smiling. "In the short term, we'll need you to fly some sector patrols. You'll be given an Ident each time you do an official patrol for us, which will identify you to others as a militia ship. Might confuse a few people, but it's better when working for us, you show to others as legitimate militia. Your rank does carry some weight."

  "We'll send you a package about possible duties which may arise of a general nature. You've been placed on 'detached service', which means you don't fit into anyone's chain of command. You get your orders direct from me, and no-one else. You can go where you want, when you want. I'll be kept informed of where you are, and if you happen to be near a trouble spot, I'll send you orders. You'll be paid the going rate for the mission type, and any bounties you can claim in the process."

  "For example, if you get a mission to patrol a system, you'll get a nav map of where we want you to go. If you see anyone with a militia bounty on them, you're allowed to attack on sight. You can go after other bounties as well, as long as the mission is completed. You can interrupt a non-time sensitive mission if you need to rearm or repair, or if something unexpected crops-up. As long as you complete it in a reasonable fashion. If at any time you decide to stop flying a fighter, let me know, and we'll adjust missions according to what you are flying. In any case, for the short term, you have a 'pirate problem', and there's not going to be much point in giving you missions you can't complete, because the pirates have not given up attacking you on sight. We'll monitor things, and send you any help we can. Are you going to go after them?"

  "I hadn't planned to. Retribution is not big on Outback. It is not the done thing."

  I didn't think he wanted to hear about karma, so I stopped there.

  "I do plan to get a ship which has a lot better shielding, and hits harder. Every time they keep attacking me, I want them to think harder if it's really worth it or not. I've certainly got enough credits to buy something special, so I'll do that."

  "Have you heard of the Centurion?"

  "No."

  "Also a Bounty Hunter heavy fighter, but by all accounts it's a much better ship than the Gladiator. We don't use them, because they cost a lot more, and it takes a really good pilot to get the best out of them."

  This was interesting, because it seemed to imply the average service pilot wasn't so good, and I was.

  "I'll have a look at it, thanks."

  "Uniforms. You are not required to wear a service uniform, but on missions for us, it would be a good idea."

  "I think I can do that easily enough. If you could have someone send me a full hollo of each type of uniform, and when it's worn, I'll see about getting my suit to emulate it. That way if I need to look official, I can change my suit to the appropriate uniform temporarily. Likewise whenever I'm reporting to you, or are in military areas."

  "That sounds good. I'll make arrangements, and have them pulsed to you. I'll also send you a military add-on to your social settings. That way any officer can see your public record, and will include the detached nature of your service, and a reference to me as your direct superior. Saves any officious officer from giving you orders, and you needing to ignore them, which could get ugly."

  I could see it happening. I definitely wasn't taking orders from some officer who liked giving people orders. And I was junior enough, without something tangible from a senior officer, I'd not be able to question the orders.

  "Any questions, Pilot Officer?"

  "No sir, at least not now. I may have later." I paused. "Oh, do I salute and all that? I've no idea how."

  He laughed.

  "I'll also have you sent the basic training manual. But since you only salute on receipt of orders, and I'm the only one giving you orders, it's not a requirement as far as I am concerned. By the way, what did you tell Colonel Smith?"

  "I turned her down gently sir. But I made a point of saying I'd be happy to work with them, if they thought they needed me."

  "That's fine with me. Smith knows her job. If you work for her, let me know, so we don't send you a mission which conflicts. She did mention the possibility to me. One of her requirements for joining her outfit is everyone comes from a military background. You don't of course, but the rule will stretch to someone who carries a military rank. She didn't mention that?"

  "No sir, she didn't."

  But it made sense.

  "Very well then, off with you. Find yourself a ship, so we can start using you."

  I was glad the meeting was over, and quickly left his office. Amanda fell into step behind me, with Aleesha in front of me, and we proceeded out of 'military country'.

  "Home Jeeves," I said to Aleesha.

  She threw a strange look at me back over her shoulder, but didn't break step. Once back at the hotel, we fell into our normal roles, Aleesha vanishing, Amanda looking blank in her chair, me engrossed in mine.

  I looked up the Centurion. It was shaped more like an atmospheric craft with real wings. On each wing were hard points for three guns, for a total of six, where the Gladiator mounted four. It seemed to have two and a half decks. The top deck had the cockpit, living quarters a bit bigger than the Gladiator, and a real airlock. The living space had a large single bed, a very small desk and chair, and a fresher unit just large enough to stand in. There was also a micro kitchen, and small robe and storage unit. Very compact, and not exactly inviting for long journeys.

  The half deck was below. There was a slot at the front and another at the back which could take various combat units, and reload magazines for them. The slot at the back could also be loaded with a rear facing turret, useful for putting off a bogie trying to get into your kill slot. The lower deck had a modest cargo bay at the front, capable of taking a dozen pallets. The rest was life support, engines, and generators.

  Nice looking ship.

  I noticed a link to download a simulation, and did so. I activated it, and immediately I got a hollo projection of the front section of the cockpit, as if I
was sitting in the pilot's chair, including controls. Just like a real ship, I lifted it off, flew it out into space, and gave the controls a workout to see what it could do. Very responsive, but a bit slower than I'd have liked. I loaded guns and missile launcher, and took it through a series of combat simulations against Gladiators. It performed very well, but against four hostiles, the shields took more of a beating than I felt was comfortable. I'd have to see what Bob could do.

  "Food?" said Amanda, and I jumped clear out of the chair, and fell back heavily on my left side.

  She laughed at me. I'd been so engrossed once again, I'd lost track of time. A quick glance at the pad showed stacked up emails again. I pinged Bob Derr requesting a meeting in the afternoon, and he pinged back he'd have the shuttle over shortly. I got up, and followed Amanda into the kitchen. We ate, she swapped with Aleesha, who ate while I attended to emails. When the shuttle pilot pinged me he'd arrived, we headed over to the shuttle bay, and thus to the shipyard, and Bob's office.

  Fifteen

  "Ah good," said Bob, "a boy left yesterday, and a man returns today."

  I didn't have a clue what he was talking about, except maybe it was the clothes. I nodded politely.

  "What have you decided?" he asked me.

  "The General suggested I look at the Centurion. I put the simulation through its paces." He nodded. "It's a nice ship, but a bit slow, and under shielded for what I need."

  "Speed is a function of the engine chosen. Shielding is a function of the generator chosen. Both must be balanced by a power generator sufficient to run both at the same time, as well as other things such as life support and weapons. The standard ship carries what balances best. If you overdo one, you must under do another, and such choices have consequences."