Rust Bucket

by Atk. Butterfly

  It took us the better part of a week to cut the timber and then erect it into a protective scaffolding around the ship. After that, some of us returned to our regular tasks and helped out with the repairs when we were free. For myself, I still had hydroponics to take care of each day. Being on a planet didn't end that responsibility. However, there wasn't as much effort needed to care for them.

  Week by week, we watched the repairs being made with tools meant for lighter tasks while the rest of us maintained the remainder of the ship and performed guard. This planet wasn't exactly our best choice for landing. It was inhabited by wildlife that was varied and widespread. There was a resemblance to some wildlife of other worlds and some that was distinctively unique to the planet. Somehow, DNA or whatever seems to have gotten around to many of the hospitable worlds. Somewhat similar creatures have evolved to meet each planet's environment. This planet had a heavier gravity than Earth, but lighter than Beulah. For that reason, we didn't feel much hampered by it. The wildlife was obviously used to it and moved quite fast. More than once, the Mark II singles had to open up on some creature that ventured too close and scare it away. We held off on using the heavier weapons. After all, we didn't want to barbecue the creatures. Although the Mark II singles were capable of doing the same thing to the wildlife, it was also capable of being used at a lighter setting so that it could just sting and drive them away. It wasn't unusual each day to hear the whine and sharp crack of one of the Mark II singles being used to keep the area clear.

  Gradually, the engine cones were repaired. It became time to move on to the more difficult work of repairing the steering fins and stabilizers for atmospheric flight. To repair some of the damage to them, we actually had to remove some of the plating around them after breaking through the fused portions with our torches. It was a good thing we did. Over half the wiring that controlled them was likewise melted and fused into small puddles that had solidified on the insides of the plating. To repair the controls to the fins and stabilizers, we had to use the last of our remaining supplies of repair parts and wire.

  Finally, after four months of repair work, the ship was once again ready for flight back into space. I think a lesser crew would have given up long ago and either perished in space or not tried to lift off again from the planet we were able to land on. The scaffolding was removed enough that we could launch. Then we all took our places and prayed as Frank started the engines and rechecked the steering before we jetted off with almost as much vigor as we were used to having.

  We knew the course and headings which we would have to take to get back home. If nothing else, we knew that we would be paid well for all the time we spent keeping the ship together and returning it, not to mention the bonuses for the pirate ship we recaptured, so to speak. If we returned, we would be entitled to that pay whether the company salvaged the pirate again or not. Considering that we had been gone so long, it wouldn't have made much sense for the company not to salvage and refit the former Theodore to take our place.

  Chapter 4

  Evidently a lot can happen in five months as we were to learn. Aside from the Blues, our Navy discovered another alien race, not so human and not so friendly. We were unaware of it as we lifted off. We also didn't know that we would have to cross a battle zone to get back home. We were only one week away from the planet that we made repairs on when we picked up coded messages from our Navy's ships. We couldn't understand what was happening since we weren't privy to the codes they used. The only thing we did know is that when we tried to send them a message, in case they were looking for us, they replied for us to shut up and get the hell off the combat channel.

  We weren't immediately alarmed since the Navy was known for having frequent war games, much as our company had regular practice each time we lifted off from a planet or mock-battles when a new ship was added and personnel changes had to be made. For that reason, we continued on our course back to Beulah right straight into the combat zone. All the while, coded messages continued to be overheard with regularity.

  While we were on the planet making our repairs, I finished the class work from the textdisks. I had the material ready to mail to the Sarge when we returned to Beulah. Without anything else to take up some of my slack time, the messages represented a challenge. Because of my own background, I worked on the messages for the hell of it and sheer curiosity using one of the recreational computers. I didn't think that I had a chance of breaking the codes, but as luck would have it, I did manage to figure out a few of the words in the messages. That was enough to worry me. I took my findings to Captain Marble as soon as I had something.

  "Yes, Dave. You said it was important."

  I said, "Yes, Captain. I've been playing around with some of the Navy messages on the computer just to fill my time. I don't think they're involved in war games. I think they're in a real shooting war with someone."

  She looked at me carefully to see if, perhaps, I was trying to pull a joke on her for the amusement of the crew. It wouldn't have been the first time. Once, the crew hid her clothes while she showered. She threatened to have them all naked if her clothing wasn't returned. However, she seemed to pick up my sense of urgency or danger. She replied, "Okay. I'll keep it in mind. Keep me informed if you manage to learn anything more from the messages."

  I replied, "Yes, Captain, I will."

  It was a very short and to the point conversation. I continued to work on the messages during my spare time. Evidently, she kept my warning in mind, putting us on "man your battle stations" when she spotted the signs of firing weapons in the area in front of us the following day.

  As we headed into that area, thinking or hoping that it was only a war game, we were all at our gun stations. The ship was secured against breaches in the bulkheads, should it turn out to be for the worst. It was practically the worst as we entered almost directly between the two forces. Our Navy wasn't getting the best of that particular battle. I later had my own suspicions about why our forces were doing so poorly. I only know that the bridge suddenly announced battle stations, adding, "Fire only at nonNavy ships!" as if they needed to. For the second time during that mission, I was glad that Frank was at the controls. From what I understand, others were glad that I was at the controls of one of the two Mark III quads. We were closer to the alien vessels than any of the Navy ships. Frank jinked us about as he evaded the shots from the aliens at us. We were a complete surprise to them when our ship suddenly sprouted gun ports and the guns we sprouted were heavy weapons within their effective range. I wasn't at a lack for targets as we swept through the center of the battle, covering the asses of our Navy that was trying to break off the engagement and retreat when we arrived. I doubt that we would have survived, if it hadn't been for Muriel at the lightbeam radio, communicating with the Navy squadron. She convinced them to wheel about and take advantage of the enemy's sudden confusion.

  We weren't looking for a fight when we entered into that area of space. Since we were there and it was too late to change our course without being destroyed, we had to fight. My first two shots took out one of the alien ships that was roughly equal to ours in size. Then the rest of the alien fleet, which outnumbered our side's squadron three to two, began to worry about us instead of the Navy. By then, Frank was really doing his best evasive maneuvers and shooting was quite difficult to do.

  It wasn't that we didn't have computers helping to keep the guns trained on the enemy ships, but the constant movement and various electronic tricks that each side employed required a human operator to do the actual firing. The radar and computerassistance given to aiming the guns couldn't aim them at the vital areas. Those only placed the guns on where the bulk of the target was. Despite hundreds of years of computer usage, it still took a person to pick out the key points in order to knock out the target. Even more so when one considers that these were alien vessels. We were aiming based on intuition, something that computers simply don't have.

  Our only advantage in shooting it out with the alien
s was that we were passing in front of them. Only a few of their weapons could be aimed at us until we were directly in front of them. Otherwise, they might have hit some of their own ships because of their own battle formation. Before we got directly in front of them, Sam and I managed to each hit a second alien, also equal in size to us, and disable it completely. It dropped behind the advancing alien ships while no more weapons' fire came from it.

  We crossed the worst part with a vibration that shook us enough to let us know we sustained a hit, but damage crews went to their posts and took care of whatever it was. Meanwhile, I was zeroing in on another ship bigger than us and managed to hit the ship four times before it stopped firing and dropped behind. It was the first ship I ever saw rupture apart completely in space. Sam on the other side was having more luck than I was. He picked up a total of three and a half kills to my two and a half. Had any of us known that our job could put us into the Navy whenever called upon, we would have stayed and fought with the fleet against the remaining alien ships. As it was, when we finished crossing between the two forces, our Navy was once again attacking the aliens head on with an equal number of ships, while we continued on home to Beulah. What would have been a defeat for our Navy became a partial victory, but only because our combat videos couldn't be ignored and they had to share the credit with us. After all, we went in suddenly and unexpectedly, slaughtered one third of the alien ships, and then left just as suddenly.

  We still had three weeks of travel to reach Beulah. I had a lot of work to do in the hydroponics during that time. The only major hit we suffered was right in that area. I managed to salvage half of the hydroponics and keep us from starving during the last three weeks.

  We finally put in at Beulah, each of us a few pounds lighter, and already celebrated heroes for our action at the Battle of Three Star as it became known. The Thurman went through a month of repair to fix what we hadn't been able to on that other planet and what damage we subsequently suffered at Three Star. Consequently, I took my first real shore leave in half a year and hand-delivered my completed fourth year class work to the Sarge in person.

  ***

  Sergeant Clark said, "Dave, you did well out at Three Star. I've already seen the Navy combat videos. I understand you were manning one of the Mark III quads. Both of them did outstanding shooting."

  I replied, trying to be modest, "Thanks, Sarge. I didn't give it much thought at the time. I was just trying to save us as best I could."

  "Well, you obviously did your part. Well, do you regret taking my advice?" he asked.

  "No. Not at all. Why?" I asked.

  He replied, "Because you've got a couple of major decisions to make soon. The Thurman is big enough and good enough that the Navy will probably activate you as one of theirs."

  "They can?" I asked.

  He said, "Yes, they can, in a time of war. They'll probably leave Pennyweight their other gun ships because they're too small for extended deep space time and battles with heavy warships. You have to decide if you're going to remain with Pennyweight and whether you're going to still be on the Thurman or one of the other gun ships. You've got enough seniority and rank to ask for and get a transfer to the other gun ships. If you leave the company, then you can probably come back at some other time after the war. Most likely, no one will comment about that. If you stay with Pennyweight and take a transfer, I don't think anyone will comment, either. Anyway, after the raw deal the Space Academy gave you, no one is going to get upset over you refusing to join up when the Thurman is called for. But this is your big chance to get into the Navy and maybe, just maybe, get your commission. Once you get that, you'll be able to leave the Thurman when the war's over and be assigned to a permanent warship if you want. If you don't want to pursue a career in the Navy, then you'll be able to deactivate, just like the Thurman will, and return to work as a civilian for Pennyweight. Basically, you're now in a win-win situation. Almost anything you decide will result in you being in a good position when the war's over. Some results are just better than others. I'm very glad you went to the effort to maintain your studies and did the class work."

  "It was interesting work and gave me something else to do with my spare time," I replied.

  "It did more than that," he said with a look of guilt on his face.

  "What?" I asked.

  He said, "I cheated a little by forging your signature on the application for remote training. You're credited with what you took. It doesn't get you a commission, but your bosses at Pennyweight signed the appropriate papers, and certified that they acted as your instructors. So don't admit that you did the work on your own, though I know that you did. You can thank Penny, Jim, Captain Marsha Marble, Sarah, and a few others later for their support. I know that Sarah wasn't in a position of rank, but she watched you doing the work. She let the others know that you were actually doing it on your own without help and without looking up the answers, not that I couldn't tell from the class work I've already seen. I still can't understand how you missed the question on the Faraday cage."

  "I did?" I replied in astonishment.

  He said, "Yes, but that was the only one on that particular assignment. Otherwise, everything you turned in to me will be graded and posted with your other grades from the Academy. That ought to get you a boost when it comes time to hand out commissions to people who deserve them for the work they did."

  I asked, "Why did you call Miss Wayte, Penny? She tells all of us not to dare use it."

  He replied, "That will soon change for you. She's very pleased with how you worked in the past two years. If you stay with the Thurman, doubtless the Navy will be impressed with your record as well. You might get that commission to Ensign yet. You'll still be behind your own class in rank, but they don't have what it takes to survive in a real navy, especially a navy at war. If you stick with the Navy, you'll probably pass them in a couple of years. Maybe you'll be able to influence what happens inside it in the future."

  "Is that really possible?" I asked.

  He answered, "It is, if you aim for it. Mind you, you're going to feel discouraged by some of the more senior officers when they see that you didn't finish the Academy. By the way, I have your class ring for you. You paid for it, so it's legally yours. I don't think that anyone can tell you not to wear it. It's not your fault that you didn't graduate with that class."

  I accepted the class ring and slipped the box into my shoulder pack after taking a quick look at the gold ring with the fiery red stone in the center.

  He said, "That's a wise decision, Dave. Don't flaunt it in their faces. They might think you have something to prove. They don't realize that you and a lot of others already proved it at Three Star. That damn bunch of rich kids almost gave the Navy a black eye for their conduct in that battle. Those ships were mostly commanded by members of the class ahead of you. It also had a purge to keep the rich kids in no matter what the cost. They had the other force caught by surprise and ran when they saw that they were outnumbered instead of attacking with fury and decisiveness. Yellow bastards! You and your ship saved their hides and the Navy. The fact that your one welltrained ship took out six of the enemy proves that it's training and guts, not credits that makes a force formidable. By the way, don't listen to any of them if they complain that your ship took a powder after taking out six enemy ships. You weren't in the Navy yet and weren't obligated under any laws to remain there. If anything, they were obligated to protect you, despite your guns, because you were the civilian ship. Remember that if any of them slimy bastards opens his mouth. They should have been doing their job in the first place by attacking instead of running. When you came on their screens, they should have warned you out of the area while there was still time for you to do so."

  I replied, "I'll remember and thanks for the advice, Sarge."

  He said, "I know you'll remember. I'll be seeing you soon before you go anywhere."

  "You will?" I asked not having decided to visit again while on this shore leave.

>   "Yes, probably more than once," he said. "Don't worry. It'll be under good circumstances. Of that, I'm sure."

  ***

  Sarge was right about the circumstances being good. Our ship and crew were awarded with medals of bravery from the Navy in partial recognition of us taking part in the action at Three Star. It was also because we didn't make a stink about being the civilian vessel that should have been protected at any cost instead of us saving them. Sarge was present when we were lined up and presented our medals. Mine included two gun blossoms and Sam's had three for the ships we actually took out with our own personal gunfire.

  It was when the third week of repair was complete and the end of repairs was in sight that the Navy publicly announced plans to draft all the large civilian warships. The Thurman was going to war. Additional equipment arrived to be installed in her during that last week of repair. Right after I heard that announcement, I was called into the office.

  ***

  I reported immediately, unsure of what I was needed for. Jim motioned me into the boss's office and had a smile on his face when he did. Whatever it was, I knew it was pretty good news. I walked into the office and saw the Sarge for the third time in that shore leave of mine. Rather than acknowledge him first, I paid attention to my boss who was the one who asked for my presence. "Yes ma'am," I answered.