by Rolf Nelson
Alvarez: Permission to speak freely, First Sergeant.
Harbin nods, but holds up a cautioning hand. He waves Alvarez over to a quieter corner of the cargo bay. Reaching it, he motions for the recruit to speak his mind.
Harbin: Tell me.
Alvarez: I don’t understand it at all, First Sergeant.
Harbin: What?
Alvarez: Why you put us out there to get killed like that. It was stupid.
Harbin: I’ll overlook the attitude for the moment. What, exactly, do you think was stupid?
Alvarez (increasingly agitated): Everything. Us just standing there. You said last week that we should never throw away a perfectly good weapon if we didn’t have to. Wearing bright, old-fashioned armor when we should be hiding. Throwing AXES, for Christ’s sake, at guys we expected to be armored and carry guns. It was all stupid.
Harbin: If it was so stupid, why was I standing right there with you? Am I stupid, too?
Alvarez (stiffly): No, First Sergeant.
Harbin: Then I must have had something in mind, right?
Alvarez: Uh, I suppose so. But–
Harbin: What would they be armed with?
Alvarez takes his time, reviewing his training.
Alvarez: Carbines, I’d guess.
Harbin: Right, carbines. Rifles can usually punch through a ship’s skin.
Alvarez (exasperated again): What difference does that make? They are shooting at us!
Harbin: You think that particular shield will stop a carbine round?
Alvarez: Uh … yes?
Harbin: Yes. And what attracts the eye: things that are big and shiny, or small and hidden?
Alvarez: Shiny?
Harbin: Three for three. If they are looking at us, what would they see?
Alvarez: … Us, throwing axes at them.
Harbin: Right. And if you saw someone throwing an ax at you, where would you be focusing your eyes, guns, and thoughts?
Alvarez gets it.
Alvarez: At them.
Harbin: Which means you would not be seeing … what? Remember tunnel vision?
Alvarez: I wouldn’t be seeing anyone else.
Harbin: And who else had a great view of the door they would have come in through?
Alvarez: The guys with rifles on middeck.
Harbin: Yes. Combat vets, some with years of practice and training. Anyone coming in the hatch would see you and ignore them.
Alvarez: So, we were just there to be shot at.
Harbin (patiently): Yes, we were. You are recruits with a very little bit of training and marginal marksmanship skills. You were placed in the one spot where you could do some real good.
Alvarez: My first combat, and I’m nothin’ but bait.
Harbin: But you stood your ground. You held. Yes, I was there encouraging you. Yes, you were scared. Yes, you puked your guts out when it was over. But you held your ground when the unknown was beating on the door in front of you, not just in a drill. You didn’t have any idea what was about to come through the door. You followed orders exactly, even when you were not sure why you were doing it, because you trusted your leaders standing there with you to not be stupid. And you had the guts to ask why later, so now you do understand.
Alvarez: But they never came through the door!
Harbin: But they might have, and you thought they were going to. We just had a better plan and better people than they did. Remember that. Work with good people, get a good plan, follow good leaders, get good results. Work with smooth-talking arrogant fuckups and expect to fail spectacularly. Now, go get yourself cleaned up, and see if any of the other recruits have the same questions you did. And see if any of them had a better plan; there is always more to learn.
In Kat’s cabin. She studies an e-reader, tapping occasionally, switching back and forth between sections. Kaushik and Helton watch intently.
Kat: Yes, I think it will work. Appendix L has some really odd pieces in it, and now I know why. Letters of Marque.
Kaushik: What?
Helton: Really?
Kat: Letters of Marque. Legal paperwork granting the power to a private ship to act as a warship in attacking the shipping of other specified nations. An old idea from early in the days of sail. All but forgotten, but still on the books. I think, with the proper legal obfuscation and verbiage, we can grant you nominal Plataean warship status to carry out military actions against certain types of “enemy” shipping. In this case, a suspected pirate vessel attacking without announcement, warning, provocation, and only a veneer of legal authority. We give your command a Letter of Marque, declare that ship a lawful target, buy it from you and sterilize its origin.
Helton (intrigued): You can do that?
Kaushik: That doesn’t seem … right.
Kat: It’s technically legal, if not common. It gets us out of this situation. It gets Plataea a cheap ship. It makes you a healthy profit. It’ll only work if we can pilot it out of here to an appropriate Plataean base out-system. If you see any better options, I’m all ears.
Helton: Now I know why Lag wanted you working for him.
Kaushik: Warfare operates at many levels. You and I see only the most obvious. Kat and Lag play a much deeper game.
Helton: Glad he’s on my side.
Kat (smiling indulgently): He isn’t. You are on his. Or, rather, you both happen to be aiming in the same direction right now.
Helton: Comforting thought.
Kaushik: Trust me, there are much worse places to be.
In the Officers’ Mess. Helton, Kat, Allonia, and Bipasha sit across the table from an embarrassed and uncomfortable Horkle.
Horkle: ME?
Helton: Well, you and a very one-legged Lieutenant Plumon were the only guys with any pilot experience that we can spare. Cooper and Kaushik we need here, and you have more experience than the Sergeant, anyway.
Kat (calmly encouraging): It’ll mostly autopilot itself. You are there as much to take care of Plumon as you are to fly.
Allonia: Just think, not even a fully ranked private, and you are off on a secret mission of your own!
Horkle: Well, uh, yeah, I guess, but…
Kat: She’s right. It’s a good career move.
Bipasha: You’re lucky. You get to jet off among the stars, the rest of us have to stay here to clean up the mess and plod on to the transfer station.
Cooper (over the intercom): Kaushik says the ship’s cleaned and supplied. Plumon’s aboard and says it looks easy. Time, Horkle.
Horkle stands up quickly, knocking his chair over.
Kat: You’ll be fine. You can’t transition for another eighteen hours or so, and we’ll have all the legal stuff beamed over to you. It’ll be fine.
Horkle (nervous, but game): Well, better get going. Hope to see you again soon!
Exit Horkle. He closes the door, and everyone looks at Kat.
Kat: And as long as nothing happens to them between now and then, it will be fine.
Helton (neutrally): So, how much are we really talking?
Bipasha: It’s a newer craft, must cost at least a hundred mil new, eighty for current resale.
Kat: Twenty. Split between Lag’s command as the sponsoring agent and the ship’s corporation, which is traditionally split up on a percentage basis–
Bipasha practically explodes.
Bipasha: Twenty! Is that all?
Kat examines her for a moment, then turns back to Helton.
Kat: Yes. Do you know anyone else who is ready to assume all risks and contingent legal liabilities of hacking government encrypted computers and sterilizing them, can certify that this was all legal so you don’t hang for piracy, deals in ships, and has the cash to buy in the next seventy-two hours?
Helton: Well, no. But twenty?
Kat: It has to be low enough that no one back home wants to object and push back.
Bipasha: So, what sort of a split, exactly?
Kat: Half for Lag and his company. Half to be split among the ship’s compa
ny. Normally, about half of that would go to the ship for operational costs, the remaining quarter–
Bipasha: Five mil.
Kat: –would be split among the crew.
Helton: So, hypothetically, how is that normally split among the captain and crew?
Kat: Half to the captain and–
Bipasha: HALF!
Helton: Wow.
Kat: But considering the fact that Lag has extended a substantial amount of credit to you under the table to get this old beast flying…
Bipasha puts on her game face.
Bipasha: Would that come out of his half or our half? Or Helton’s half of our half?
Kat: That would be at his discretion. I think. Because there is no formal prior agreement, you either come to one now, unanimously, or it goes to binding arbitration, which could be … problematic. I advise you get a formal agreement soon for any future actions, too.
Allonia: Would the injured soldiers and recruits be considered crew?
Helton: Huh? What?
Allonia: We did arm them to repel boarders, and Plumon and Horkle are flying the ship back as prize crew.
Everyone looks at her with surprise and consternation.
Bipasha: And would the recruits' share come from Lag’s company portion, or the ship’s company portion, or…?
Helton: Oh good Lord.
Bipasha: It’s going to be all but impossible to get a unanimous–
Kat: I suggest you come to an agreement now, here and quickly, present it to everyone as a done deal, ask for any major objections, then declare it unanimous.
Helton: Ooookay, then…
Still in the Officers’ Mess. Cooper and Kwon have joined the others.
Kat: Any further objections?
Cooper: I still think–
Kat (sharply): That haven’t been covered already? No? Okay, then. All we need is five seconds of silence after we ask for objections and it’s official.
Bipasha: So much money, so many ways.
Kwon: It puts me ahead of where I was yesterday, and it keeps us flying. We need that much for the ship.
Helton: Enough excitement and decisions for one day?
Bipasha: I don’t know if you are the luckiest man in the universe, or the unluckiest.
Kwon: Yes. Yes he is.
AMMO RUN
Short Supply
The parking lot outside Cobb’s is full, the bright sun casting hard shadows around the square buildings and smoothly rounded vehicles. Kaminski, Helton, Sar, and Kwon pull up in a light truck, park, and hop out. Kaminski and Helton carry small range bags and wear holsters with pistols, as does Kwon. They head inside.
It’s much busier than before. Ammo stacks are significantly smaller, and the listed “specials” prices are higher. They reach the counter just as Vera tells a pair of customers, “Sorry we can’t help you out. Nothing more in that caliber, I’m afraid. Don’t know when more will show up.” The man and woman at the counter frown in disappointment and turn to leave. Vera waves to Kaminski. “Howdy, again! Hope you brought your own gun food.”
“What’s up?”
“Been crazy the last few days. Rumors sparked a buying frenzy. We were already getting low, but now?” She waves her hand around the shop and shakes her head. “Nearly out of ammo. Nobody wants to ship it. Afraid of being considered a military target and being hit by cops, Customs, Navy, or pirates. Rumors say even some Customs ships are getting vaporized. Everyone wants to stock up, no one wants to sell.”
“Uh, yeah, we heard some pretty wild rumors about that, too,” Kaminski says. “Don’t believe half of what you hear, though. You know how it is. See something odd on a screen, pretty soon it’s Planet Movers or pirates or something. If a ship really did disappear, probably just the Customs agents stole it to sell and retire on. Can’t you buy any ammo off-world?”
“Got a big order awaiting shipment on Emirate II, Geminorum. The boss found a shitload of mixed-lot mil-surp. Can’t find a shipper, though. So, what can I do for you?”
Kwon and Helton glance at each other. “How big a shitload? What kind?”
“Dunno. He said it was too good a deal to pass up, but sounded like he was stretched thin to finance it. I can check. Why?”
“Helton here owns the Dutchman on pad D9,” Kaminski answers. “He’s looking for cargo.”
“Can you check what it is and what he’d pay to get it shipped here?” Helton asks.
“Sure thing. Hang out a few.” She trots off down the counter and disappears through a door.
“That would be good. Ammo is dense and high value. Wouldn’t take a lot of cubes.”
Kaminski nods. “And I’m sure Lag would like to get first crack at buying a supply, too. He said things are tight right now for ammo he’s looking for and that we should keep our ears open.”
“Everyone looks like they’re stocking up for the shit hitting the fan,” Sar says, indicating a man walking by with a hand truck stacked with ammo and emergency food.
“Bigtime. We should lay in more e-rats as soon as we can, I’m thinking,” Kwon agrees.
Vera returns with an amazed expression on her face. “He says it’s about two hundred million rounds. Everything from small-caliber training ammo to 120mm canister rounds. About four thousand tons.” Kaminski whistles. Sar and Kwon raise their eyebrows in surprise. Helton says, “Whoa.”
“That’s a Burt-load, alright, even by my standards,” Kaminski says.
“We might just be in business!” Helton says. “Kwon, Sar, see about getting supplies for a trip to Emirate II in the Geminorum system. Talk to Cooper about times. Kaminski, detail what Lag needs. Vera, would you be so kind as to introduce me to your boss?
Stenson is working on a console in Engineering when Helton walks in. “You said it was ready for FTL for real?”
“Think so. Got three cores hooked up and passing tests with the Harmon drives, two with the Sokolovs. Should be solid, but I’d rather not test it with a shipload of injured soldiers on a long trip. And definitely don’t want to test them simultaneously until I get a better understanding of what they were trying to do on the multi-core thing.”
“How about four thousand tons of ammo from Emirate II?”
“Pretty massive load. Should be okay if subspace is quiet. The quickie trans-light test after Transfer Station Two looked pretty good, if not rock-solid. How soon?”
“As soon as we can get loaded up and you say we are ready.”
“A few loose ends to tie up. Call it two days, maybe less. There are a few parts we need made with very tight spec tolerances. Geminorum has some good custom shops. If we can beam plans ahead on a message drone we might even be able to pick them up when we get there. How much can you afford?”
“We can look at the details and figure out the priorities tonight at dinner.”
“Sounds good,” Stenson says. “Harbin and the kids coming with us?”
“He’s been pushing them pretty hard.” Helton answers. “The first phase is over, and a bunch of them got farmed out to other units or cut. There’s only a handful left, not enough to start phase two with until we get some others. He said some R&R on Geminorum would be good for them, if he can work ‘em there and back. Lag has some business there, too.”
“I think Alvarez has family on New Texas as well. Might be able to work in a quick transfer-point stop for him, maybe?”
“We’ll see. Depends on supplies and subspace conditions. Let me know if you need anything else.”
A stakeholders’ meeting in the Officers’ Mess. Helton, Bipasha, Cooper, Harbin, Lag, Kwon, and Sar sit around the table. Quinn’s playing with toy dinosaurs on, around, and under the table.
Cooper: The latest reports show a swirl going by New Texas. Shouldn’t add more than a couple hours to stop at the transfer station there. Only about eight days universal in subspace using the Harmons, eleven using the pair of Sokolovs. A day for a Geminorum stop, about two subjective. Coming back should be about three either way univer
sal, but about a week subjective on the typical route.
Lag: The units I’m working with could use the heavy stuff on the list. A stock of the 25mm is always good to have.
Stenson: Four thousand tons of cargo will be a good systems stress test, too. Not much chance you’d ever have to haul more than that, unless you plan on strapping it on outside.
Bipasha leans back and folds her arms.
Bipasha: I can’t believe you found a cargo like this so fast! It’s about the one thing you can haul competitively. Just about fill the hold, good tonnage rates. And it just drops into your lap.
Helton (smirking): I thought you said that we couldn’t make this thing work?
Bipasha: Two lucky one-time freak jobs don’t make a business. Just delays the inevitable.
Kwon: One step at a time. As long as we are still in business long enough to find the next job. Nice to help people out, and if we can see a bit more of the ’verse while we are at it, it’s all good.
Sar: Won’t have much extra though. Prices for a lot of the staples are twice what they were last week.
Helton (shocked): Twice?
Sar: Everyone’s nervous, stocking up. Not just ammo. Food, pretty much everything you can’t print at home. Printer resin is up, too.
Quinn (loudly, from under the table): Why does all of ‘em buy at once?
Sar: “Why do all of them,” Quinn; she DOES, they DO. Because they all got scared by the same news at the same time.
Quinn: What are they scared of?
Helton: The unknown. They might run out of food, or ammo, or whatever, and they don’t know when they can get more. People are like that.
Quinn pops up between Harbin and Lag.
Quinn: Why not keep more around always? Think they might not eat next week?
Everyone chuckles. Lag ruffles his hair.
Lag: Lots of reasons, most of them not very good. That’s why you always hear Mr. Kwon talking about stocking up on food, Mr. Stenson stocking up on parts, Allonia stocking up on just about everything, and the First Sergeant talking about ammunition supplies. We know things can run out and resupply might be difficult. We know difficult times can happen.
Bipasha: Maybe we could stop in on New Texas and get some supplies for cheaper on the way back? Timeline on the ammo delivery isn’t very tight.
