Steel Apocalypse

by Rodney Hartman

  Casey snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm. “Does it really matter?” she purred. “He’s probably rendezvousing with an escort. We’ll be entering the neutral zone soon enough. The freighter’s not armed. What with pirates and all, I’d be concerned if we didn’t get an escort.”

  Warm lips on Jake’s cheek made him forget all about escorts and purple planets. He turned and looked into his fellow cat pilot’s eyes. They were dark, just like her hair, minus the purple streaks of course. He thought they were nice looking eyes.

  Not for the first time, a thought crossed his mind. “So what are we going to do when we get to Lastreo. During the tournament, I mean? I don’t want to fight you.”

  Casey gave him a peck on the lips. “Nor I you, but we’ll both do what needs to be done.” She snuggled back into his arm. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I heard there were another hundred and ninety-eight contestants at last count. The odds that we’ll have to fight each other are pretty slim. Besides, the battle royale will take out a lot of cats. From what I’ve been told, there’s such a mass of plasma beams and missiles shooting from one end of the battle area to the other that surviving the first fight requires as much luck as it does skill.”

  Jake sat up. “Battle royale? What’s that? How do you know how the tournament works?”

  Having lost the comfortable spot in the crook of Jake’s arm, Casey sat up as well. “How is it you don’t? Didn’t your Maggie brief you? It’s all on the tele-network. That is, if you’ve got the right clearance.”

  “Maggie didn’t tell me anything about a battle royale.”

  Casey smiled as if scoring a point. “Well, then. Maybe she’s not as all fired hot as you think she is. Anyway, on the first day of the tournament, the organizers will have all two hundred contestants enter the combat area and go at it. The battle royale doesn’t stop until half the cats are out of action. Follow-on battles at the tournament include platoon and squad-size missions. Once the field is narrowed down even more, it will go to one-on-one.” She snuggled back into Jake’s arm. “What we’ve got to concentrate on is making it past the larger battles so our piloting skills matter more than luck.”

  Jake was just starting to relax when he looked out the observation window and saw five small jets of plasma gas in the distance. The trails of gas drew closer, turning into the forms of five double-winged fighters of Covian design.

  Pointing out the window, he said, “I’m guessing that’s the escort you mentioned.”

  Raising her head, Casey sat up straight. “Piss. Covians. It figures. They’re almost as bad as space pirates.” She grinned. “Almost, but not quite. The Trecorian Alliance shares a border with the Covian Empire. We’re not at war with each other or anything like that, but we aren’t best buddies either. Unless I miss my guess, we’ll be getting a dinner invitation from the captain tonight.”

  Jake cocked his head. “A dinner invitation? Why?”

  “Just trust me.” She drew his head close until their lips were only a finger-width apart. “Dinner’s a long ways off.” She grinned. “Until then, I think I want a little dessert.”

  * * *

  Sure enough, twenty minutes before the evening meal, a knock sounded on the door of the cabin Jake shared with Tilley and Jason. A half-dressed Tilley opened the door. A stern member of the Solaris’s crew nearly twice her size thrust a small electronic pad in her hands.

  “The captain’s compliments,” growled the crewman. “He’s invitin’ you to dinner.”

  “He’s inviting me?” asked Tilley.

  The crewman gave a not-so-friendly laugh. “Read the invitation, sweetheart. It’s for the three of you. Now I’ve got things to do. Are you comin’ or not?”

  Already dressed in pants and shirt, Jake took the pad out of Tilley’s hand and gave it the once over.

  To Whom It May Concern,

  Captain Yardov of the Gegormaian Starship Solaris presents you the honor of partaking in the evening meal in the captain’s lounge at 1800 hours this day.

  Dress is casual.

  Attendance is mandatory.

  Jake glanced at the crewman. “We accept. How do we find the captain’s lounge?”

  The crewman laughed. It wasn’t a friendly laugh. “Do you think we let just anyone roam around the ship’s bridge? I’ll be taking you where you need to go, so make it snappy.”

  Turning to his friends, Jake grinned. “You heard the man. Get those four-legged pants of yours on, Jason. We’ve got a party to attend.

  As it turned out, Tilley took longer to finish getting dressed than the four-legged Jason. Nevertheless, in less than three minutes they were following their escort through winding, metal-lined corridors toward the upper levels of the starship. At precisely 1800 hours, the crewman stopped in front of an open door leading into what Jake assumed was the captain’s lounge. After waving them inside, their escort left the way they’d come.

  The captain’s lounge wasn’t so much a lounge as it was a conference room. Furniture had been shoved to one side to make room for two folding tables at either end of a metal table that was permanently bolted to the deck.

  At the center of the table opposite the door sat a fat-bellied man with a white beard, wearing a captain’s dress-white uniform. The stubby fingers on his right hand were drumming on the tabletop. A slim female with scraggily hair sat to his left. Across from the captain were two more officers in dress whites. At one of the folding tables sat Casey and her cousins Freeta and Dresh, all three dressed in crisp Trecorian officer uniforms.

  Eyeing Casey, Jake thought, She cleans up nice. He glanced down at his jeans and wrinkled shirt. Too bad they didn’t give us enough time to change clothes. I must look like something a senile pactar dragged in.

  Forgetting his attire, he looked at the folding table at the opposite end from the Trecorians. Three males and two females dressed in black flight suits sat there glaring at Jason, Tilley, and him. The male in the center of the group whispered something into the ear of the female to his right. She laughed.

  Kiss off, Jake thought. It takes more than a pretty uniform to make a soldier.

  “Ah, yes,” said Captain Yardov. “The Paladin’s crew is here. Welcome, one and all.” He waved a hand at three chairs next to Casey and her cousins. “Please, have a seat.”

  Once Jake and his friends took their places, the captain stood and looked at the three Trecorians.

  “I must apologize.” He waved a hand to indicate the dark-haired man sitting in the center of the five people in the black flight suits, who’d whispered in his female companion’s ear. The captain turned back to the Trecorians. “Until Major Maksim informed me of your status, I didn’t realize we had royalty on board.”

  Sitting to the left of Freeta, Jake leaned forward to look past her at Casey. “Royalty?”

  With her face turning a little pink, Casey glared at the leader of the Covians. “Sorry to say the major’s incorrect. My cousins Ensign Freeta and Ensign Dresh’s father is Duke Bistoria’s brother. My mother is his sister. It doesn’t matter. My uncle’s title applies only to him. Trecor doesn’t have royalty. The three of us are just officers in the Trecorian military. No more, no less.”

  Captain Yardov turned to the Covian major. “I thought you said—”

  The major stood up. “The lieutenant is being too modest. Members of the Bistoria family have ruled Trecor for over three hundred years. I’d say that’s about as royal as you can get.”

  Casey, Freeta, and Dresh laughed.

  Captain Yardov frowned. “Did he say something funny? Why not let us all in on the joke?”

  After glancing at her two companions, Casey stood and faced the Solaris’s captain. “There’s no joke per se, Captain. The fact is that the Trecorian Planetary Alliance consists of twenty-two star systems with Trecor being the most populated. As it so happens, each of those star systems has their own leaders and governments. Every leader carries the title of duke or duchess. They’re voted in or out. Once they’re out, t
hey lose their title. All Trecorians, whether from Trecor or another of the alliance’s planets, are an independent lot. If they thought one of their elected leaders was getting pretentious, they’d stick them on a one-way rocket to the Evarian radiation belt and be done with it.”

  Major Maksim gave a tightlipped smile. “Yes, I’m sure.” He turned to the Solaris’s captain. “Still, your three Trecorian guests have a direct line to Duke Bistoria. You never know when that might come in handy.”

  Captain Yardov pulled at his beard. “Yes, of course.” Turning to Casey and her cousins, he gave a slight bow. “As I said, my apologies for not meeting with you sooner. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

  By this time, Casey had sat back down. She glanced at her cousins sitting to her left and right. They both nodded. Looking back at the captain, she smiled. “Actually, there is one thing you can do for us.”

  Tugging at his beard again, Captain Yardov said, “And what is that may I ask?”

  “Our cat’s been offline for over a month now. A UHAAV is a sensitive piece of equipment. Electronics, seals, and plasma generators can go bad without a charge running through them. We’ll be landing on Lastreo in a couple of weeks. My crew and I would like to run some diagnostics and do any required repairs on our cats. It wouldn’t do to head into the tournament with a faulty piece of gear.”

  The captain glanced down at the scraggily haired woman sitting in the chair next to him.

  Jake noticed the woman shake her head slightly. When Captain Yardov bent down, she whispered in his ear.

  “Ummm, quite right,” said the captain as he stood up straight. “Standard operating procedures are to have all vehicles, including your cat, deactivated during transport. It wouldn’t do to have some, uh…someone or other get a wild hair and decide to get in an armored vehicle and start shooting up the place.” He spread his hands and smiled. “I’m sure you can see my predicament.”

  Casey nodded. Her voice was as sweet as her smile when she spoke. “Of course, that’s quite understandable…under normal circumstances. I should point out that Mister Gegorma has gone to a lot of expense to get our UHAAV to Lastreo. It would be a shame if we had to bow out when one of our cat’s circuits shorts out because we weren’t allowed to do our weekly maintenance.”

  The Solaris’s captain shook his head and folded his arms across his chest.

  Just when Jake thought the potbellied man was going to tell Casey no, help came from an unexpected direction.

  Major Maksim rose from his chair and laughed. “The lieutenant’s right, Captain. I know I’m only a humble escort, but I’ve worked a lot with Creao Gegorma over the years. He is my mother’s uncle, after all.” He smiled. “I don’t like to boast, but I’ve got a good feel for my great uncle’s dos and don’ts. I doubt he’d be happy if his tournament was less than perfect because one of the cats was taken out of action due to such a minor thing as lack of preventative maintenance.”

  Casey gave the major a nod of thanks.

  Jake felt something ugly raise its head inside him.

  “Your loadmaster took out the control keys for all of our weapon systems,” said Casey. “I know we’ll have to wait until we arrive planet-side to run diagnostics on them. All I’m asking is to check our non-lethal systems and keep them in top shape during the rest of our trip. We can swap out a weapon with one of our spares if it goes bad. A main servo, engine, or sensor array is a different matter. Just a couple of hours a day going over our cat is all I’m asking. One of your crew can be with us the whole time.”

  “It seems little enough to ask,” said Major Maksim. “I myself would be happy to accompany the beautiful lieutenant. My team’s fighters are also stored in the cargo bay. They could use a little preventative maintenance of their own.”

  I don’t like the way he’s looking at her. The ugly thing within Jake raised its head even farther. He’d never been jealous before, or at least he didn’t think so, but he was now. He glanced at Casey. I don’t like the way she’s looking at him either. Can’t she see he’s all flash and no substance?

  The captain looked down at his first mate.

  The scraggily haired woman shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. Loadmaster Petrof has the control keys for both cats, plus we’ve had a security program placed on the vehicles’ tactical computers to prevent the UHAAVs from operating. I could have our programmer modify the security program to allow some basic preventative maintenance to be done.”

  Captain Yardov nodded. “Very well then, Lieutenant Bistoria. I’ll inform Loadmaster Petrof that you can spend two hours a day in the cargo bay.” He gave a sly smile. “That is, after our programming staff has modified the security programs on your tactical computer.”

  “Of course,” said Casey. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

  Seeing an opportunity about to slip by, Jake spoke up. “I assume that goes for our Paladin as well, Captain. Mister Gegorma also went to a lot of trouble to get our cat in the tournament.”

  The captain frowned.

  Major Maksim frowned even more.

  Casey leaned past Freeta and gave him a wink that counteracted the others’ frowns.

  Somewhat reluctantly, Captain Yardov glanced down at his first mate. “Tell the programming staff to modify the security on Mister Striker’s vehicle as well. Make sure neither cat can activate their weapons. I don’t want any kind of accident on my ship.”

  The first mate nodded. “I’ll get on it right after dinner, sir.”

  “Very good.” Captain Yardov sat down and patted his belly. “Now for the important stuff. I always did like a good dinner.”

  Chapter 12 – Maintenance

  _______________________________

  Mid-morning the next day found Tilley, Jason, and Jake working on the Paladin. Actually, Tilley and Jason were doing most of the work. Jake spent most of his time staring at the five escort fighters positioned on launch catapults at the end of the cargo bay, near the freighter’s cargo ramp. More accurately, he spent his time watching a couple of way-too-cozy figures standing near the five fighters.

  Why’s he got to touch her so much, Jake wondered. And why’s Casey letting him. She should be slapping that arrogant major from one side of the bay to the other. What’s she see in him? He’s not that good looking.

  Laughter came from the end of the cargo bay. The ugly something inside Jake reared its head as Major Maksim raised the canopy to one of the fighters and stepped inside the tight cockpit, helping Casey snuggle into the one-person seat on his lap. More laughter echoed off the bay’s bulkheads.

  “Hey,” said Tilley. “How about giving us a hand with this servo? It’s kinda heavy.”

  With more than a little reluctance, Jake turned away from the escort fighters and wandered over to the Paladin’s left leg. Tilley and Jason had the front armor plate access cover off and were fiddling with a piston in the main servo.

  “What do you need me to do?” Jake asked. In his opinion, the tight space around the servo barely had enough room for Tilley’s hand and two of Jason’s tentacles.

  Glancing up, Tilley grinned. “Not a thing. I was just getting tired of seeing that lieutenant of yours make you jealous. You do know she’s puttin’ on a show for you?”

  “Putting on a show? What do you mean? She’s been following that fighter pilot around all morning.” He waved a hand at the Macron chained to the deck ten meters away. “Poor old Freeta and Dresh have been doing all the work by themselves. I feel sorry for them.”

  Laughter came out of Jason’s translator. “Sure you do. I will never understand why humans lie to themselves when it comes to the reproductive process. You could care less about Freeta and Dresh at the moment. You only have two eyes, and both of them are on Casey. Why don’t you go over there, spray some ink in the major’s face, and drag your young lieutenant to some hole and cover her eggs with—”

  “Enough,” Jake said forcing images of copulating octopods from his m
ind. “I get the picture. How about you guys mind your own business and I’ll mind mine?”

  Jason raised two of his tentacles in what Jake knew was a Storagean’s version of a shrug. “Fine by me. You’re the boss. Now how about getting up in the cockpit and activating the left servo for us.”

  At the sound of more laughter from the end of the cargo bay, Jake noticed the canopy on the cockpit lowering. He tightened his fists. “Maggie can work the servo,” he said absentmindedly. “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Because,” said Tilley getting in on the conversation. “The ship’s loadmaster is over there keeping an eye on us. Do you really want him to know our Maggie hacked his programming staff’s security routine and is fully activated?”

  Jake didn’t. The Paladin’s AI had not only succeeded in hacking the security routine, she’d somehow managed to redirect control circuits to bypass the missing control keys for the cat’s weapons systems. Without ammo, the solid projectile and phase weapons were useless, but the plasma weapons were available. Not that he expected to need them inside the ship, but it made him feel a little less impotent just to know they were available if he needed them.

  Somewhat reluctantly, he made his way over to the cat’s elevator and rode it to the access door. Maggie was waiting for him inside, in full-size mode and sitting in her usual spot in the copilot’s seat. Unlike most days, she wasn’t wearing her flight suit. She had on a long evening gown with a sparkling necklace around her throat and what looked like large Trevarian diamond earrings dangling from each ear. Streaks of purple ran through her red hair, which was done up in a bun. Surprisingly, the effect of purple against red was quite stunning. Her eyes flashed a light blue.

  “What do you think, Tiger? I wasn’t sure whether the earrings were too much, but thought I’d give them a shot.”

  Jake plopped down in the pilot’s chair. “How are you supposed to fight in that?”

  Maggie’s eyes turned a light green. Her form flickered as the evening gown turned into a gray, grease-covered flight suit. Her hair unwound and dropped to her shoulders as all hint of diamond necklace and earrings disappeared.