by Jim Laughter
∞∞∞
Delmar learned quickly and adjusted to the daily routine aboard ship. It became easy to tell morning from afternoon by which of the two levels he was scrubbing. The different patterns of flooring tile were all he needed for a timepiece. Preston worked him steady but not too hard, lest all the work be done and the boy should have some free time. Out barely ten days and the ship glistened from one end to the other and Delmar could see the tile patterns in his sleep.
However, scrubbing the Malibu’s floors did not keep Delmar from learning. He kept his ears and eyes open and his mouth shut, the first advice Cargo Master Preston had given him after breaking orbit.
From the disgusted tone of the skipper, he learned there were problems with some of the rods of the bedsprings drive system and their power cells were weakening. They were also having trouble navigating and had to make frequent course corrections, and their communications array was apparently out of alignment. They were not making good time as they planet-hopped and would have to lay over at the next planet for repairs.
∞∞∞
The Red-tail pilot could not believe his luck. He had been on patrol in this sector of space trying to find a likely spot for the cluster to open a new transit tube so they could make hit-and-run raids. This was one of the normal shipping lanes used by the humans of Galactic Axia.
The few Axia ships the Red-tail had seen were the large cruisers and he certainly did not want to tangle with one of those. But this ship was different. From the looks of it, the ship should have been retired long ago. And though he wasn’t familiar with Galactic Axia designs, he was sure the ship coming into his detector range was only running on partial power. The energy fluctuations emitting from its power source were intermittent at best.
The Red-tail powered his scout ship down to avoid detection by the approaching ship. You never know about these humans, he thought. They’re full of tricks and capable of absolute treachery.
The Malibu had taken off from Erdinata with a full load of iron ore and supplies for a couple of the inner colonies on Keltus and Olympia. The ship had handled well enough on the first leg of their journey but the skipper knew he would have to put in at Mica for repairs if he hoped to stay in business. His green box power cells were running weak and intermittent, and he didn’t like the way his communications arrays were acting.
Cargo Master Preston came forward to the control room and sat down heavily in the vacant comm chair. He had been recalculating the load weight and distribution variances in the cargo hold all shift since dropping off their shipment of ore at Olympia.
“Something wrong, Preston?” the skipper asked.
“Naw. I just hate haulin' ore,” Preston answered. “Seems to me the Axia shouldn’t put colonies on planets that don’t have enough natural resources to mine their own iron.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” the skipper answered. “But ours is not to reason why.”
“Ours is but to load and fly,” Preston finished the old freighter idiom.
“Where’s that new kid we took on?”
“I’ve got him down in the cargo bay arranging pallets to get the weight right.”
“He’s a good worker. Too bad we’ll have to put him off on Mica,” the skipper said.
“Put him off? Why?”
“Because we’ll be laid over for who knows how long getting this tub repaired. We can’t afford to keep on extra crew just to sit in port.”
“Sure seems a shame,” Preston said. “That boy really knows how to put his back into it.”
The skipper wondered what kind of trouble the Eagleman kid was running from, but he didn’t ask. After all, I ain’t the kid’s father, he thought. He’d also left home when he was a teenager, shipping out on one of the old solar sail ships. He remembered it took weeks just to get to the nearest moon, much less another star. So he wouldn’t pry. He would just let the boy take care of his own problems and work them out the best he could.
“You’re just lucky I don’t put you off too,” the skipper said to Preston.
Preston got up from the comm chair and poured a cup of hot coffee for himself from an old coffee pot, then handed a cup to the skipper. “Can’t do it, Skipper.”
“And just why not? You think you’re something special around here?”
Preston sat back down in the comm chair. “Yep,” he answered. “Seein' as’ta how I own quarter interest in this old tub, I’d say you’d have to either buy me out, which I know you can’t afford, or knock me in the head, which I know you won’t do.”
“Got all the answers, don’t ya?”
“Not all of 'em,” Preston answered, taking a sip of his hot coffee. “Just enough of 'em.”
The panoramic view displayed on the main view screen of the freighter showed nothing but open space and bright stars. Regardless how boring the time was on slow runs between the planets, the skipper never grew tired of space or the many wonders each star system held.
Cargo Master Preston sat with this back to the comm screen and detector panel, so he didn’t see the red trace suddenly appear on the detector screen. The signal was very faint and it took two more sweeps of the detector array to trigger the proximity alarm.
The red lights of the proximity alarm began to flash, followed by the shrill wail of the klaxon. Preston sat bolt upright in the comm chair and spilled the coffee he had just poured. The hot liquid seared down his right leg but Preston paid it no mind.
“What is it?” the skipper asked, moving to Preston’s side.
“Don’t know yet, Skipper. Can’t see nothin'.”
The skipper pushed Preston out of the comm chair and sat down at the controls himself. He hated making this run without a communications specialist. But the Malibu was a privately owned independent freighter and this was supposed to be a safe route. Besides, he had to cut costs somewhere.
The proximity klaxon continued to blare its warning, the shrill noise cutting through the skipper’s brain. “Shut that racket-maker off!”
Preston flipped a switch on the control panel and the klaxon went silent. At the same time, he glanced out the front portal and saw the Red-tail ship appear out of nowhere. He watched in horror as the Red-tail launched a torpedo at the Malibu.
“Incoming torpedo!” screamed Preston.
“Where?” the skipper asked, more calm than he really felt.
“Port bow. Twenty miles.”
The skipper leapt from the comm chair and as if by magic landed in his control chair. With his left hand, he spun the axis ball hard to the left while throwing the ship into full reverse with his right. The ship lurched and then stood still in space. Then with a great wrenching twist that even the inertial dampeners could not overcome, the Malibu fell away from the path of the incoming Red-tail weapon.
Preston fell to the floor with the first spin of the axis ball but was now back on his feet. He could feel more that hear the cargo in the cargo bay break away from its moorings and smash against a bulkhead. “I hope that kid got out of the way of that!”
The skipper was too busy twisting and turning the ship to be concerned about what Preston was saying. “Get to the weapons console!”
Preston staggered across the control room to the weapons console on the old freighter. The Malibu had once been an active duty ship but that was decades ago, so its weapons compliment was very limited. She still sported the large heat ray that ran along the long axis of the ship. And she still had a few smaller swivel-mount heat rays. But torpedoes were rare, not to mention expensive to purchase in the private sector.
Preston hoped the one torpedo he still showed on the inventory was good and that the launch tube would fire it properly. They didn’t run weapons drills on civilian freighters like they did on line vessels. This was a discrepancy he figured the skipper would rectify if they lived through this ordeal.
“I could use a little help here,” the skipper called out, again giving the axis ball a spin and pushing the throttle bar forward, sending
the ship on a parallel tangent from its previous course.
At just that moment, Delmar appeared in the control room doorway. Blood stained his face and shirt from a nasty cut on his forehead.
“What’s happening?”
“Red-tail,” Preston answered. “We’re under attack.” Preston saw the blood streaming down Delmar’s face. “You alright, boy?”
“Yes sir,” Delmar answered. “It’s just a little bump on the head.”
“Get on that comm panel, boy!” the skipper ordered. “Try to get us some help!”
“Yes sir,” Delmar answered. Although he had never actually worked a comm panel before, he had seen one at the spaceport when Mr. Hassel had taken him on a field trip one day. Mr. Hassel had shown him how to use the simple device, especially the emergency beacon switch that would send out a distress call along with their coordinates in space and their identity registration. Any ship within a dozen light years would respond as soon as they picked up the signal.
Delmar sat at the comm panel and threw the emergency beacon switch. Then he picked up the headset and put it on. He pressed the switch on the mic and spoke clearly and calmly into it. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. Independent freighter Malibu declaring an emergency. We’re under attack by Red-tails. Mayday, mayday, mayday.”
This kid has moxey, thought Preston. Cool, calm, ready for a fight. Kind'a reminds me of me when I was a pup. “Good job, kid.”
“Thanks,” Delmar answered. “Mr. Hassel, uh, I mean, my school teacher told me about Red-tails but I never expected to see one.”
“That’s one thing you don’t want to see, boy,” Preston answered. “If you see one up real close, the chances are you’re already dead and fixin' to be his supper.”
The skipper spun around in his command chair and yelled across the room at Preston. “Are you going to fire those weapons or just try to talk that thing to death?”
Delmar could not help but laugh out loud at the skipper’s question. But now Preston was all business. He turned back to the weapons console, and with dexterity that belayed his gruff exterior, his fingers played across the weapons console like a seasoned professional. The axis heat ray fired, sending a searing blast of energy at the approaching Red-tail ship. Delmar could hear the sound of the swivel mount rays firing too but the Red-tail continued to advance, twisting and turning out of the heat ray’s path.
“Have you got a torpedo in your pocket anywhere?” the skipper asked.
“Sure do,” Preston answered. “Can’t tell ya if it’ll light or not but we got one.”
“Then line it up and see if you can get us out of this jam!”
Delmar watched the cargo master activate another screen that was hidden behind a safety panel. A set of crosshairs like the one he had seen on Mrs. Hassel’s old rifle appeared on the screen, along with a set of divergent coordinates. A red blip appeared on the screen that Delmar assumed was the location of the Red-tail ship.
Preston worked his fingers over the keyboard on the weapons console until he was satisfied he had the Red-tail ship locked into a good firing solution. With a quick press of a red button on the panel, Delmar heard the torpedo fire and watched it streak through space toward the enemy position.
In the meantime, the Red-tail had his sights set on a decent meal for a change. He figured the old freighter couldn’t be carrying much of a crew, but just one of the humans would last him a while. That is, if he could blow one out into space. Besides that, he had been spotted. The cluster commander would not be happy if he wasn’t able to put a transit tube in this sector just because a single scout ship couldn’t handle one old freighter.
The Red-tail saw the torpedo release from the freighter. By this time, he was only two hundred miles away from the Axia ship. He knew he had to act fast to avoid being hit.
The skipper, Preston, and Delmar watched the torpedo streak toward the Red-tail vessel. They saw the enemy ship twist and turn, trying it’s best to escape the incoming weapon. But it was no use. The torpedo was locked on. It was only a matter of seconds before the torpedo would find its mark. “Great shot, Preston!” the skipper shouted.
“Just like the old days,” Preston answered.
The crew of the Malibu watched with elation as the torpedo closed in on its target. The Red-tail knew he had met his match. Then the torpedo struck the enemy vessel full broadside. Nothing. No explosion. No fireball. Nothing. The torpedo hit the Red-tail vessel and careened off into space. It was a dud.
“Uh-o,” Preston muttered. “I think we’re in trouble!”
“You have an obvious talent for understatement,” the skipper answered. “And we can’t outrun this guy, so you better come up with something fast.”
Delmar had an idea. “What if we jettison our cargo?” he asked. “That iron ore might confuse his sensors long enough for us to escape.”
“Drop the load?” Preston asked. “You tryin' to bankrupt us, boy?”
“Do it!” the skipper ordered. “Create a debris field and I’ll try to buy us some time.”
“Yes sir,” Preston answered. “Come on, boy!”
Preston lead the way out of the control room toward the cargo bay. What he saw when they got there did not make him happy. The cargo had shifted and broken loose from its bindings and was pressed against the cargo doors.
“Watch this.” Preston pushed Delmar into a small pressurized room at the back of the cargo bay. He reached overhead and threw a heavy switch that reminded Delmar of the electrical breaker switch in Mr. Hassel’s barn.
Suddenly, the cargo bay doors began to swing outward, followed by an ear-wrenching blast of air. The cargo in the hold blew violently out through the open hatch along with everything else that wasn’t bolted to the deck.
Preston closed the cargo hatch and waited for a minute while the cargo hold pressurized. “Come on,” he said, pushing Delmar ahead of him. Then they felt the ship lurch as something hit it hard from the port side. “Heat ray,” Preston said. “Must'a winged us.”
The two men ran the length of the vessel back to the control room, there to find the skipper still in his control chair trying to out-maneuver the Red-tail ship. Preston looked out the front portal and saw their cargo floating freely in space, miraculously coming between them and the Red-tail.
“You still messin' with that critter?” Preston asked. “I figured you’d have us home sippin' coolin' drinks and eatin’ apple pie by now.”
“I was just about to order a slice for you and the boy there,” the skipper answered. “But this guy just won’t let go.”
The three men on the bridge of the Malibu watched the Red-tail vessel close in on their position again. The debris field they had created wasn’t working and the enemy vessel was lining up for a clean shot at the old freighter.
Suddenly, the explosion of the enemy vessel lit up space. Unseen by either the Red-tail or the crew of the Malibu, an Axia heavy cruiser appeared out of nowhere and launched a devastating attack against the Red-tail ship. Two torpedoes struck the enemy vessel at the same time, scattering her atoms into open space. The last thought of the Red-tail invader had been that he wasn’t going to taste any human flesh this trip.
“Axia heavy cruiser Sanora calling independent freighter Malibu,” a voice said from the comm speaker. “This is Captain Michael T. Roseburg speaking. Do you require medical assistance?”
Delmar looked at the skipper, then back at Preston. “You’re the comm operator,” the skipper said to Delmar. “Answer the man.”
“Yes sir,” Delmar replied, smiling at his sudden promotion. He crossed the control room to the comm panel and sat down in the comm chair.
“Independent freighter Malibu calling the Sanora,” he said. “Negative on the medical assistance. But where, where did you come from?”
“You boys looked like you could use some help,” answered Captain Roseburg.
“But how did you know we were here?”
“Because you sent out an emergency distress signal.”
<
br /> “Oh yeah, that’s right,” Delmar answered. It seemed like so long ago since he had sent out the distress signal that he had forgotten he’d done it.
Preston and the skipper laughed at Delmar’s lapse of memory. The skipper crossed the bridge to the comm panel and took the mic from Delmar’s hand.
“This is Captain Arthur Norellen of the independent freighter Malibu,” he said into the mic. Delmar realized at that moment this was the first time he’d actually heard the skipper’s name. He had just called him Skipper since leaving Erdinata, and come to think of it, so had Preston. “We sure appreciate you pulling our fat from the fire, Captain Roseburg.”
“Nothing to it,” Roseburg answered. “But from the looks of your ship, you’re going to need some serious repairs. You have damage on both quarters of your aft port panel, and it looks like your drive system may have taken a hit. Where are you bound?”
“Next stop is Mica,” Norellen answered.
“Do you require an escort?”
“No sir, I think we can make it. I’ve got a stout ship and a good crew. We’ll make it.”
“Roger,” Roseburg answered. “Then if you don’t need us any longer, we’ll sweep the area for any more Red-tails.”
“Thanks again for your help,” Norellen said into the mic.
“Anytime,” Roseburg answered. “Always happy to fry a Red-tail.”
Delmar watched the giant cruiser vector away from them. Wow! he thought. Wouldn’t that be something?
Preston clapped Delmar on the shoulder, and then poured the young man a cup of coffee. “Well, boy,” he said. “Since we ain’t got no cargo left, you might as well just stay here on the bridge and try to learn somethin'.”
“You mean it, sir?”
“Sure he does,” the skipper replied. “Soon as you get that knot on your head fixed up some, you can come over here and I’ll show you how to drive this old boat.”
∞∞∞
After two weeks out from Erdinata, the Malibu was preparing to make planet fall at Mica when the skipper came into the cargo bay and pulled Preston aside. Delmar noticed they kept looking at him and he began to fear the authorities had found him. After a whispered conversation, the skipper left and Preston called over to Delmar. “Go put your things away. Skipper wants to see you in his cabin.”
