The Stars Came Back

by Rolf Nelson

Nerona: (OC, through coms) This is Nerona. We got some strange doings. Definitely something that needs to be checked out. Smuggling, gunrunning, sedition, something. I’m sure we can find an excuse to take them down with, or at least lock ‘em up for a while. Talk to you tomorrow after I check out a few things. Out here.

  Lag sighs, and each has a pained, resigned, or worried look.

  Lag: Victor, we should call it an evening, knowing you need to plow a field bright and early tomorrow. Corporal, I trust you saw the backhoe? Chief, see what you can do about helping the inspector set the autopilot on his flier, perhaps north toward the sea? Helton, if you can determine how much of that message got out. How it came through our coms would be good to know, too. Allonia, if you could help Helton, I’d be happy to help Bipasha and the ladies with dishes and cleanup here for a little while.

  Lag nods to Kaminski, who nods back and takes off running at an angle down the hill. Mr. and Mrs. Alvarez have expressions of mixed uncertainty, fear, and pleasure at the situation.

  Lag: Sad. But people like that very rarely change. They want power and control without responsibility or restraint. Pleasure, without work. I believe we can honestly say that we saw him walk away from the house in fine shape, heading for his flier talking about needing to check something out, and that we then saw his flier leave, heading north?

  Mr. Alvarez leans back, looking more relaxed.

  Mr. Alvarez: Jorge, I think you’ve been hired by good people… It’s been a while since we’ve had a good formal bar-b-que; not a lot to celebrate. But I think it might be a good time. (Turning to Lag and Helton) I think you may just find a number of people quite willing to do business with you next week, if you can stay that long.

  FADE TO BLACK

  BBQ

  FADE IN

  EXT - DAY - Above large BBQ gathering

  Aerial flyby shot of hundreds of people gathering near a large ranch house spread. A number of buildings scattered around, lush greenery in the background, many personal and utility fliers, to one side corrals with horses and cattle, lots of BBQ pits, smokers, and equipment, including an open pit with a whole pig on a spit, and a lot of rising smoke. On another side is a long cleared range with tables and targets set up on it. Adults and kids and dogs and dining tables and smartly dressed groups everywhere. A spot has been cleared for a dance floor, and a square dance with live music is moving briskly along. Tajemnica’s dirty, angular hull is by far the largest ship there.

  CUT TO

  INT - DAY - Cargo bay

  A view looking out the slowly lowering loading ramp. A line of silhouetted figures stand dark against the bright sunlight streaming in. A mix of clothing styles are seen, but no armor, and all are wearing pistol belts with sidearms.

  CUT TO

  View from outside looking into the cargo bay, showing the line of them from foot level. General style is a cross between dieselpunk, practical, and conservative functional Victorian. Helton wears boots, jeans, print shirt, dark vest, wide-brimmed hat, his utilitarian sidearm in a well-used holster. Next to him, Allonia wears boots, calf-length skirt, corset, collar and choker necklace with medallion. Hair up, sunhat, long sleeves, decorated but very serviceable-looking belt with fancy holster, with a long slide, round butt, double stack, stainless 1911 style pistol with decorative handles and partially gilt engraving on the visible metal; a right proper BBQ gun. Kaminski is in more traditional western style in solid colors, Bipasha more traditional flamboyant Indian style. The rest of the crew are dressed in a similar range of fashion, many colors and themes on the ladies, conservative colors and styles for the men. They look around, taking in the sights and smells around them.

  Kaminski: (Enthusiastically) Now THIS… is a BAR-B-QUE!

  The rest nod in agreement, and they all start down the ramp.

  DISSOLVE TO

  EXT – DAY – Somewhere amid the BBQ crowd

  A long table crowded with attentive and ethnically diverse young men, very fit and clean cut, are listening intently to the Tajemnica crew on the other side, where Harbin, Helton, Kaushik, Bipasha, and Alvarez sit. There is a vast spread of BBQ on the table, and people are dressed sharp and clean, having a good time.

  Helton: So there we were, with an unknown ship looking to board us. We had a pair of marginal drives, a company of crippled veterans missing a platoon of body parts, minimal weapons and hardly any ammo, a couple squads of recruits so green you could plant ‘em under a light if you were short of oxygen, some civilians, and only three trained and able-bodied soldiers.

  Kaushik: It was bad enough I had a flashback to one of the First Sergeant’s famously ego-killing officer-candidate field exercises.

  Harbin: You don’t think I just make those up, do you? That will make a good one in the future.

  Alvarez: (Joking) You are a cruel man!

  Harbin: The hotter the fire, the deeper the temper.

  The men across the table nod sagely in agreement, liking what they hear, eating it up; real war stories from guys who were there, and flying the old ship to prove it.

  Kaushik: So then the First Sergeant says very seriously “we have axes,” and we all look at him like he’s finally cracked!

  Everyone laughs.

  CUT TO

  A corral fence, with a wide-eyed Quinn and a couple of other kids watching cattle and cowboys riding horses separating them out for later events. Real cows, real cowboys.

  CUT TO

  Cooper walks along a line of BBQs, a comely young woman on each arm, looking dashing and having a GRAND time.

  CUT TO

  Stenson and a couple of his crew sit with some of the Alvarez family and friends at a table, talking and savoring the BBQ. In the background, a group of folks are tossing bean bags at a board with holes cut in it, playing cornhole.

  Stenson: You have no idea how good it feels to sit down for a little while and not worry about some new brand of strange cropping up and having to be dealt with RIGHT NOW! No one trying to board us, run into us, shake us down, or open us up like tin can. And this is really good! (waves a rib to emphasize his point) I mean, I’ve seen more action in the last two flights as a civilian than I did in my last five deployments in uniform. Crazy, but fun! Pass the cornbread, please.

  DISSOLVE TO

  An informal but well made and often-used shooting range

  Two tables with five bowling pins on each are about ten yards from the two shooters (a man in his 30s, and a woman in her early 20s) standing at low ready, and behind them a crowd of onlookers, including Allonia and Kaminski. A Range Officer is running the match, standing between and slightly behind the two shooters.

  Range Officer: Shooters ready?!

  They both nod.

  RO: GO!

  The two shooters bring their guns up and start shooting. Both shoot as fast as they can. Wood chips are flying, pins are being nicked and rolling around on the tables. Both have to reload before the man finally clears the table, just barely faster than the woman. Scattered laughter and polite applause.

  CUT TO

  Close-up of Kaminski and Allonia, watching the match

  Kaminski: Trying to shoot too fast. Remember, you can’t miss fast enough to win. As fast as you can get a good sight picture. Aim centered on the lower bulge. Hitting high will tip them but not knock them off the table. You’ll do fine. Just like shooting bulls-eyes. No pressure, only a few dozen people watching. There is likely to be more than a hundred to watch the final shoot-off. Be safe, hit the pins, let what happens happen.

  Camera angle pulls back as Allonia looks askance at him skeptical. As the tables get cleared of debris and a new set of pins get set up, she steps up to the shooting line. Her opponent is a well dressed middle aged man, who eyes her carefully.

  Opponent1: (Politely) Ever shot pins before?

  Allonia shakes her head. Opponent1 looks at Kaminski questioningly while Allonia gets herself comfortable on the line, holding her arms out, taking a good shooting stance, eyeing down her index finger, g
oing one pin to the next, rehearsing the targets.

  Kaminski: New shooter, but she’s got the basics down pretty well. Bring your best game.

  Opponent1 nods understanding. The range is cleared, they draw their guns, check magazines, chambers, eye protection, and safeties. Her gun is extensively engraved, brightly polished, with some gold inlay in traditional leafy scrollwork patterns spelling out res ipsa loquitor. Suddenly, Allonia pauses, seeing her opponent’s suppressed pistol.

  Allonia: Oh, drat! Forgot the can.

  There is a rustle, and from the crowd about a dozen arms get extended holding out various kinds of suppressors for her to borrow. She looks around at them kind of sheepishly, and holsters her gun.

  Allonia: Ten millimeter?

  Two thirds of them get withdrawn and there is a murmur of appreciation from the crowd; it’s not a normal lady’s caliber. She nods thanks to one elderly gent offering his, turns around to the line, draws, screws it on, keeping it carefully pointed away from the crowd. Then she sights down it towards the pins again, rehearsing the targets again with the can on the barrel. She takes a low ready position, and nods. The RO looks at both shooters to see that they look ready.

  RO: Shooters ready?!

  Both nod.

  RO: GO!

  The guns come up quickly. Allonia isn’t rushing, and squeezes off five aimed shots, not shooting as fast as her opponent, but each shot is well placed, and the pins move off the table in fine fashion, each pin falling in one shot. Two of them roll to get over the edge, but the other three were hit square and clear the table promptly. Her opponent is shooting faster but not as accurately, and some of his pins get knocked over but not off the table. Her last pin falls over the edge while he’s still finishing off his last two rolling around on the table, one spinning madly. Allonia comes back to a low ready, and looks over at her opponents table, then smiles broadly. There is a scattered clapping from the crowd. Her opponent sees he’s lost, flicks his safety on, and holsters. He takes a step over to her as she unscrews the can to return to the lender, and holsters her pistol. He waits for her to finish, sticks out his hand with a wry smile and a slight bow.

  Opponent1: (Polite and sincere) Very well done! Especially for a first timer. Sorry I’m out, but (shrug) I can’t argue losing to a more lovely competitor! Best of luck to you.

  Allonia nods a somewhat self-conscious acceptance of the praise, and shakes his hand.

  Allonia: Thank you! I have a good teacher.

  CUT TO

  INT – DAY - Cargo bay

  Quinn leads a small posse of kids to show them around his kingdom. He is no longer quite so clean and polished as when he came down the ramp. He’s got BBQ sauce on his face, but his new friends look around impressed, and he’s obviously having a good time.

  Quinn: This is where we load the BIG stuff, and where Mr. Ski and the rest of them train a lot. Not as big as your barn, but it goes a LOT faster!

  DISSOLVE TO

  EXT – DAY - Another table well-supplied with food

  Bipasha, Kwon, and Sar are talk business with a seven man and two women.

  Kwon: Sides of beef are OK, but boned would be better; less waste, pack better.

  Seller1: We’re not really set up for processing beyond the most basic. Sides or quarters are easy. Cut up more than that… (shrugs)

  Seller2: Really not looking at much more than sample quantities.

  Bipasha: Anything we can get aboard and store puts us ahead of where we are now.

  Seller3: As you said, bags of dry goods can go anywhere.

  Sar: It’s just a room issue. The hold is totally full.

  Seller3: Looks empty to me.

  Bipasha: We have a hold full of… cargo… in orbital storage. Wanted to take it easy on the drives coming down. It also gives us access to places that needed work.

  Kwon: If we had more room, we’d take more. Either use it ourselves, or sell it at Newoz. And the barrels of salted or pickled herring would be good too.

  Seller4: We can pack that in any of a dozen different sizes, Miss, from a one liter box to a five hundred liter barrel or a fifty thousand liter cargo container. As much as you’d like; still trying to expand the market, so I’d be happy to put together a lot of smaller packs for easier distribution.

  Kwon: That would help. We have a lot of small nooks and crannies.

  Seller5: We are not really set up for anything other than bulk. But didn’t one of the Brenneke kids plan on putting a bagger on his grav hauler for doing smaller jobs? I’m sure they’d be happy to go around and collect a few hundred kilos from each of us if the price was right, or maybe even for free if they saw a long term opportunity for regular business.

  The others nod agreement, and the negotiations for supplies go on.

  DISSOLVE TO

  INT – DAY – Non-deck access area

  Quinn and his new friends are in a cramped space with a small hatch on one side.

  Quinn: Ship is really, really old, and has all kinds of secret hatches and rooms and stuff. (Mysteriously) Like this. It looks like it’s on the outside hull… (dramatic) but there’s no outside hatch.

  Kid1: So where’s it go?

  Quinn: Dunno. Ship won’t say.

  The green light on the hatchway lock lights up.

  Kid1: Should we open it up?

  Quinn: (excited) Yeah!

  He reaches for the lock pad, pushes the light, then turns the locking handle. He pulls, it doesn’t move. All three of the kids grab and pull as hard as they can. There is a CLICK and it swings open. The hatch is 20 cm thick, similar to a small bank-vault door, wide enough an adult man could go through. It swings up and aside. Quinn sticks his head through the hatch. It’s dark. They all crawl inside.

  Quinn: Lights.

  Nothing happens, but his voice echoes like he’s in a big can.

  Quinn: What’s here?

  Ship AI: (OC) Heavy armor storage.

  Quinn: Any lights in here?

  Ship AI: (OC) Only from the outside. Shall I open it for you?

  Quinn: SURE!

  The dark space they are sitting in is filled by the sound of shifting metal. The dark is pierced by a thin line of light, as if they are sitting inside a great hollowed out pumpkin and the carved lid is being slowly lifted, first up, then sliding aside, to reveal they are sitting in a depression on the top angled side of the ship, about six meters long, four wide, and more than a meter deep. The giant hatch slides mostly out of the way, revealing the BBQ spread out before them.

  CUT TO

  Stenson and Helton walk with a few new friends among the crowd. Kids and dogs run by, and the sound to another shooting match drifts across the area. They stop at a grill and start to look the items over.

  Griller1: Best pork short ribs you’ll get here, guaranteed! Better than any ship rations you EVER had!

  Helton: Looks good alright, but you’ve not had Kwon’s cooking.

  Griller1: Kwon? Little old Asian guy, asking lots of recipe questions?

  Both Stenson and Helton laugh.

  Stenson: Yes, that sounds like him! Always looking for something new.

  Griller1: I hadn’t thought about ginger, but he might be right. Have to give it a try. Glad you folks came by. Best BBQ we’ve had in a while. Having a good time, I hope?

  Helton: Yes, very.

  Griller1 looks over their shoulder toward the ship.

  Griller1: Huh. Didn’t notice that hatch earlier.

  Helton: (Without looking) Just the loading ramp.

  Griller1: No, that one in the side.

  Stenson and Helton freeze for a fraction of a second looking at Griller1, then spin around. Sure enough, there is a large, oblong octagonal hatch open on the top angled side, about a quarter of the way back from the front angle. Along the bottom edge are three small faces with big grubby smiles. There is a slight shift along the whole side, top and bottom angles. A series of similar shapes, outlined in dark shadow under the dust, four on each side angle. The
shadow outlines grow and shift, sliding forward. As they do, a similar movement can be seen on the top, great slabs of armor unlocking from position and shifting up and out, then forward. As they watch, in a few brief seconds they can see eight side hatches, and more on top, slightly offset.

  CUT TO

  Close-up of Stenson and Helton

  Helton: (Slight daze of incredulity) What?!

  Stenson: (Quietly to himself) One day. Just one day, with no new weirdness. Is that really so much to ask?

  DISSOLVE TO

  EXT – DAY - Tajemnica top-side

  Helton, Lag, Harbin, Stenson, and Quinn stand on top, looking at the open hatches. At the bottom of each is a small hatch like Quinn opened. Each armor door is massive, with huge locking lugs all around and obscure objects on the underside. The sides of the opening are angled, with holes for the lugs to be inserted, and a bit more than two meters deep.

  Stenson: Grav-tanks. These holes should fit the lower hull of a grav-tank perfectly. They could nestle down in, get partially covered by the hatch pulling back. Two dozen. That’s a lot of firepower if they were all filled.

  Quinn: Cooooool. Tanks and cowboys.

  Helton: Explains how they’d land heavy and do so much damage. Hadn’t really considered the details of transporting a whole tank company. Little hatch to get aboard before hitting the LZ.

  Stenson: And power-feed hookups. You could either power the tank from ship power, or feed tank power into the ship.

  Harbin: Simplify some hull repairs, too. Just swap out a damaged hatch.

  Helton: And, for now, opens up a whole bunch of storage. Access from inside’s a bitch for storage, but a lot of unused cubes. Load from the outside, close the hatch, leave it cold until arrival, open to unload. Maybe not wholesale, but more than sample quantities.

  Stenson: (Thoughtfully) Wonder why now?

  They all ponder the development for a moment.

  Lag: Maybe Tajemnica forgot about them?

  Ship AI: (OC, bland male voice through Lag’s personal wrist com unit) Not forgotten. They did not need repair, access was not needed. You needed more room for cargo. They are unused.