Eric Olafson Series Boxed Set: Books 1 - 7

by Vanessa Ravencroft

  The Eric Olafson Series:

  Vanessa Ravencroft

  Copyright © 2017 by Vanessa Ravencroft.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is published by Inkitt – Join now to read and discover free upcoming bestsellers!

  Table of Contents

  Eric Olafson: Field Class

  Eric Olafson’s Gang

  Eric Olafson: Third Year

  Eric Olafson: Missing in Action

  Eric Olafson: The USS Tigershark

  Eric Olafson: Space Pirate

  Erica Olafson: Captain Black Velvet

  Beginning of Book 1:

  Eric Olafson: Field Class

  Chapter 1: Year Two

  Arsenal Gate

  I turned the viewer to aft as we emerged from the Igras Nebula and the USS Rosinante was in normal space once more. I had christened the Karthanian raider after the horse of Don Quixote. Like the old lame steed of that fictitious character it was a hapless piece of junk. Bolted and glued together from parts of at least 17 different spaceships, each ship from a different spacefaring civilization, no less. Somehow it all worked and the ship did not let me down when I needed it to work.

  Only two weeks ago I had arrived here in a shiny new Sturgeon courier ship and nothing that should have worked did. The command seat in this rust bucket had been a leather sofa, bolted down onto the deck plates with actual screw bolts. That sofa floated somewhere in space between here and Coven, the secret planet of the Netherworld Witches, along with whatever vermin was hiding between the cushions. The red-scaled lizard that was there to hunt the vermin turned out to be a coward. As soon as I let the thing out, it gorged itself on the Vac-Packed supplies and hid inside a ventilation shaft when it heard the sharp-toothed vermin squeal between the cushions.

  Well, the red-scaled pirate pet was called a Hantkit and it had a better home now. I had sold him along with everything loose and not absolutely essential to a vendor for pretty much everything aboard a Scooper station two days ago. They let me land, and it turned out the Karthanian ship of mine had a few tons of Good Scoop aboard. It and the rest of the things gained me a small bag full of gold and platinum chips. Union Credits had no meaning out here, as I found out. For the chips they sold me something like an old-fashioned dentist's chair that was now my command chair, a big bucket of Scrub-A-Deck and seven bulbs of fuel. Hopefully enough to take this piece of junk back to Union space.

  It had felt like a cold shower, like being evicted from a castle to turn back on my male persona, but I really wanted to complete my Academy and not complicate things even more. But my experience on Coven had shown me what I wanted and what I would do as soon as I could. The doubts and the pain of not knowing what I was were gone.

  Gwen, like me, wore uniform once more. It was she who knew how to find the Scoopers’ base.

  The Karthanian version of Isah Pods, called Nuran Enticers, kicked us past the transluminal threshold and while the Karthaninans called it Nuran space, it was the same thing as quasi-space. The transluminal speed of the ship was not exactly fast and it would take us 11 days just to reach Union space and another 17 to make it back to Pauli Base.

  Gwen sighed as she saw the Nebula grow smaller.

  "Would you like to have stayed longer?" I asked her.

  "No, not at all. I told you that I feel at home at Lorman's Starbase. To many, it is just a dust ball, but I have my career there and my friends and colleagues. It might surprise you but I really like being a JAG lawyer."

  She pointed at the fading image of the Nebulae. "I was thinking about the lives of the Scoopers. Now that the Coven has decided to join the Union, this part will become Union space and their way of life will change and I don't think they will like it."

  "Well it is up to you how much exposure you want for Coven. It's not going to be a big industrial or cultural center in the first place and all that changes might be a Union post office, a public GalNet station and perhaps a monthly visit by the space bus. The Narth have none of that, they opted for a space station called Narth Gate and pretty much all Union interaction ends there and never reaches Narth Prime."

  "Well, of course you are right and I don't think we do want much official exposure. But once the Union becomes truly aware of the Nebulae and the conditions there, they’ll send scientists and technicians. It's what they always do. You Terrans are especially nosy and inquisitive."

  "You keep saying that, and yet it is you who shares a human host body and it seems very Terran human at that."

  She laughed. "It seems you did learn something about us and it does sometimes take an outsider’s eye to see the obvious."

  She then added, "Not that you would ever be perceived as an outsider on Coven. You would always be welcome."

  INTERLUDE: COVEN

  The Circle of the Coven watched the human leave and with him went Gwen, the youngest.

  This time she would travel all the way to Pluribus and represent the Coven and ask for Union membership. The decision had been made.

  The human was a great surprise. He had seen them all in their true form and was not terrified or afraid. The Oldest had left the side of the warrior and had returned to Coven and to the Circle to witness the event.

  The Mother of the Coven said, "He is brave and he carries the essence of duality. His female side is as complete as his male side. There is no middle ground. He is not the third way as the Narth hoped he would be."

  The Oldest, who listened to the Name of Alycia, and was the Leader of the Psi Corps for the Union, objected. "Mother, the Narth do not hope. It is a concept alien to them. The Narth say there is a third way. We who want to be wise should heed and consider that there is a third. We are the Coven and we are bound to the Netherworld which stands for the way of darkness and chaos. But we are free to make our decisions and we choose the way of right and good. We made the decision to join the Union. We made the same decision as the Narth. This seems to be a third way indeed."

  The others in the Circle nodded. "This is so. We made the decision and we shall abide by it."

  ***

  Only a week ago we were intercepted long before we made it to Paui Station by the USS Shetland no less. I had to give Admiral McElligott a detailed account of my adventure. He simply listened, shook his head and then dropped me off at Corri-Dor from where I caught a space bus to Arsenal Gate.

  Once again I wore my uniform and was all male. I decided not to experiment more until I completed the Academy. Somehow the urge to be female was not as strong anymore and I felt myself walking taller. My visit to Coven had freed me of many doubts and I felt content in myself for the first time in my life.

  The space bus was filled to the last seat and most of the passengers had come here for the first time.

  A human female with bright green eyes and flaming red hair sat on the seat next to me. She looked skeptically at the forward screen showing Arsenal Gate getting bigger.

  "Can I ask you something, Sir?"

  It took me a second to realize she was addressing me. "Sure!"

  "I see you wear Fleet uniform. Do you have any advice on how to become a Midshipman?"

  "Swallow your pride for one thing. They are going to test and probe every orifice mentally and physically. Most of what you experience is not done because they don't care, but because they test you and weed out those who a
ren't meant for this. There is much more to this process than it appears. Especially to someone starting out. I learned that just a while ago myself."

  I listened to my own voice and realized how much had changed. How much I had changed in only a little over a year. It felt like a lifetime ago when I was finally on my way to Arsenal Gate.

  She nodded. "I’ll try to remember that, thanks!"

  After we docked they herded the newcomers into a line. At first I thought I had to stand in line as well, but I saw three uniform-wearing passengers leaving the space bus and they walked to another airlock, so I followed them. The Marine guarding it simply scanned my ID chip and said: "Access granted, Sir."

  Behind the door, it came to me that I had no idea how to get to Arsenal II from here. This was only Arsenal Gate, the actual system was still a light year away. The last time they stuck us into a military Leyland, but this time I was on my own.

  After passing through the airlock from which I had entered at the station, I found myself in a wide, well-lit corridor. Not far from where I was standing I saw a Project-A-Sign reading "D-Dock Saloon".

  I felt thirsty and was in no particular hurry, besides, maybe one of the patrons could tell me how to get to Arsenal II, without making a fool of myself.

  The bar was dimly lit, the music that played in the background sounded like Ult harmonics, but could have been any popular song played by Ult instruments, it all sounded alike to me.

  There weren't many patrons. Two humans wearing blue jumpsuits with the Engineering Bee patch on their arms sat at the bar and had a lively discussion. The barkeeper was an ancient SI-5 multi-task robot. This one featured a chrome-polished body. The bow tie around its flex neck looked out of place.

  Close to the door and to the right were two public GalNet Terminals. I decided to call Elena and check my messages.

  Nothing unusual had happened at home. To Elena all of it was important. Who married whom and who sold what to whom. Little Exa did not look so little anymore, even though it was not that long ago that I had sent her to Nilfeheim. It seemed the harsh climate and the good food of Nilfeheim had made her grow faster. Father, so I learned, was on his first pilgrimage to the Halls of Hasvik and I secretly hoped he had to climb each of those iced stairs at least twice. Perhaps he would fall and break his neck. I could not help but wish him bad things. I had buried it, but I had not forgotten what he had done, all his new-found ways to atone himself were, when I truly thought about it, not enough to wipe away his guilt in my eyes. I did not want to dwell on these thoughts and called my friends, I reached none of them, but had a pending message from Pure who had got the picture I sent him. He insisted that I should visit him right after the Academy.

  I left the GalNet booth and finished my visual survey of the bar.

  Only one table, opposite the bar, was occupied, by four cargo handlers – two of them human and two of them insectoid Klack. One of the humans eyed me with an openly hostile expression on his face then he returned to his drink and to the conversation he was having with his friends.

  On the opposite side of the entrance was a row of floor-to-ceiling viewports. I went over to the windows and gasped. This was one of the hangars of this base. It was hard to imagine that this cavernous space was made by man. Even more mind-boggling was the fact that it was only one hangar of hundreds like these, and all were part of an artificial construct floating in the darkness of space. The dimensions of this hangar alone were hard to comprehend. A full-size 3,500m battleship was being serviced there at the moment and there was room for at least three more. All of Halstad Fjord could have been placed here with room to spare to store every single burg of Nilfeheim. There was the hectic activity of robots, vehicles and service personnel.

  The giant being serviced was a wedge-shaped battleship, too close for me to see the registration name. I was certain however that it was Pounder class, because of the arrangement, size and number of the ISAH Drive pods.

  Even the 100m-tall octo-bots shifting tons of materials with their tentacle arms made of memory metal and synthetic muscles looked like toys compared to that ship. Seeing all this had the same effect on me as it had when I saw one of these giants for the first time, at Grandfather's funeral.

  The bulky-looking man wearing a blue jumpsuit came over. His suit had only one sleeve; his other arm was exposed all the way to the shoulder and it was clearly a cybernetic implant. His rank insignia identified him as an E-4 Petty Officer. The stylized cargo hook above the rank informed me that he was a Cargo specialist.

  "Are you lost or something?" he asked with a disapproving tone in his voice.

  "No, not exactly, Sir."

  "What have I done to be insulted by you?"

  "Sir, I fail to understand how I insulted you!"

  "You did it again! Do it one more time and you are going to get to know me in a very unpleasant manner!"

  He was out for trouble and I had no intentions of fighting with an enlisted man. Technically I was a Midshipman and his superior but it was obvious that did not impress him.

  I was sure that whatever I said would escalate the situation, so I backed up, raised my hands in a defensive manner and said, "Let us not escalate this situation, Sir. I am going to leave!"

  The man grunted and swung at me. I evaded and walked to the door. He said, "First you insult me three times and now you run like a coward. Such jelly belly jerks think they are so high and mighty! You are nothing but a stinking coward!" He came after me and I knew I would not make it to the door unless I ran – and I would not run!

  So I stopped, turned, and said, "I will ignore what you said so far, Petty Officer. I will forget that you tried to hit me. But take one more step towards me, threaten me one more time and this will end for you in the medical ward of the brig."

  He did stop. The three workers at the table now paid full attention to the situation. One of them said, "Curt, you better stop or that Midshipman will have you scrub the deck plates from here to sector 12!"

  Cyberarm's name was Curt and he didn't like that comment. It egged him on and he snapped at me. "This is Loaders’ country. You have no business here! There are no Marines to come to your help. You are on your own and if I decide to rip your head off, then that is what I do! It is exactly what will happen now!"

  "I warned you nicely. Let's see if we can't find a supervisor of yours and see what he thinks of your conduct!"

  Curt launched himself forward. He was an experienced brawler, I could tell at once. I needed to make a point and do it fast. Brawling with an Enlisted was not a good career move. I stepped inside his attack, grabbed him by the wrist, added momentum and smacked the palm of my hand hard under his chin. He tumbled, with a spray of blood and teeth, backwards into chairs and tables.

  The robot bartender extended a red light from his skull and announced: "Cease all fighting. Station Security is alerted!"

  Curt came up with several of his teeth missing and not too steady on his feet. Past his pain, I saw fear in his eyes as he glanced towards the door. The workers at the table did not look much happier and the same one said, "Your goose is cooked, Curt. Attacking an officer, you’re going to get spaced if you're lucky!"

  Just then the door opened and two Marines with shock batons arrived. By the looks of them, it was clear that they could have cleared a room of fighting Petharian without breaking a sweat. One of them pointed at me. "What is the nature of the disturbance here?" He looked at Carl and then at me. "Oh I see, that green want-to-be-officer strolled in here and you picked a fight, isn't that what happened Curt?"

  I straightened my posture, ignored the speaking Marine and addressed the second: "Corporal are you on official Security detail?"

  He looked at me as if I asked him if space was black. "Yes, I am!"

  "Then I assume you’re recording this for your watch log?"

  He nodded. "Yes of course."

  I raised my voice just a notch. "This is Midshipman Olafson. Marine Corporals of the watch have displayed extreme dis
respect against an officer of the Fleet. Responding Marines did not address me properly but used profane language and belittled my statue and position. I hereby file an official complaint!"

  Both Marines seemed to shrink several inches and I went closer to the first one, looked for his name tag and said, "Corporal Rengar, how do you explain your observation calling me a "want-to-be" officer? Did you check my ID? Did you obtain any data that could make you think I might not be an officer?"

  "Sir, I apologize. I did not mean any disrespect, Sir. This is not the first disturbance of this nature and in this bar. Did this Petty Officer cause you any harm or trouble, Sir?"

  "None at all, Corporals. This Petty Officer asked me to demonstrate an Aikido throw that was all. The robot misinterpreted the situation."

  "If you say so Sir!"

  "Indeed. Now do I need to follow you to the guard center and file a complete report, including the record of your conduct, or can we file this situation under false alarm?"

  "It seems that would be an acceptable solution, Sir. We will report it as a false alarm. Have a good day, Sir!"

  The Marines apologized again and left.

  Neither Curt nor the workers on the table said a word until the Marines left.

  Curt stepped forward. "That was mighty noble of you, Sir!"

  "Well, I don't want to see anyone spaced. Just never call me a coward. That is a serious matter for someone where I come from. But you are right about one thing. I don't belong here. I’d better go now."

  One of the Klacks got up. "Why don't you join us for a drink, Sir? We owe you at least that much for saving our friend."

  "All right, I guess I can use a drink."

  I sat down with the four and Curt also found a chair and pulled it to the table.

  The human worker leaned forward. "One tip of advice, Sir. Don't call enlisted personnel Sir. That Sir is reserved for officers!"

  "I am sorry. I didn't know. I am fresh out first year Academy – I call a fencepost Sir."