Solomon Family Warriors II

by Robert H. Cherny

  “Now it will go warn the others,” Sean barked at her. “We’ll get nothing. You should have let me shoot it. I wouldn’t have missed.”

  The settlers had noticed that the ‘coons did seem to have some form of communication with which they could warn each other of danger. While they did not seem to react to one of their number being killed by an arrow, one escaping a shot was often able to raise an alarm and send the others into hiding. Rachel’s missed shot virtually guaranteed a wasted hunting trip, but the discovery of the bones should make up for the loss.

  “You couldn’t have hit it either. It looked right at you and was getting ready to run away,” Rachel shot back.

  “I would have hit it.”

  “You didn’t see it. I did.”

  “But I would have hit it.”

  “Not if you didn’t see it.”

  “I would have seen it.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “You couldn’t hit it anyway. You can’t shoot worth anything. I don’t know why you even carry that thing.”

  “I can too shoot.”

  “You missed.”

  “I shot too soon. It was moving.”

  “You couldn’t hit a ‘coon if it held still and made faces at you.”

  “I could too!”

  “You couldn’t hit me if I stood still and made faces at you.”

  “I could too!” She raised her bow at him.

  “Don’t threaten me with that! I don’t want to have to break it!” Sean was turning red with anger. He started to turn away. It was his way of getting the last word. He often ended arguments by turning his back and walking away.

  “Don’t you ignore me!”

  “What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

  “Yes,” Rachel said as she let the arrow go. As she had with the ‘coon, her shot was low. The arrow lodged firmly in the back of Sean’s thigh. Sean’s scream echoed across the hills.

  For a few seconds, the girls stood paralyzed with fear as Sean screamed in pain. Regaining their thoughts, Wendy and Colleen raced to get the horses and their parents. Rachel assisted Sean to a sitting position on a nearby moss covered stone. She cried and apologized and did what she could to stop the bleeding. Once the initial shock subsided, Sean tried to tough it out. With clenched teeth he glared at Rachel as she pleaded for forgiveness.

  Wendy and Colleen gathered their parents. The silence of their anger as they tended to Sean was more painful to Rachel than if they had shouted at her. Her various punishments went on for months until the four adults agreed that she had been punished enough. Sean’s wound healed although it occasionally caused him residual pain. Rachel was never allowed to carry a bow and arrow again, nor was she allowed to accompany Sean on his hunting trips. Rachel’s moment of anger caused a rift between them that would last a year until it finally dissipated.

  The collection of bones they found on the hillside would bring Dr. Turner to the conclusion that the animals had not died of a contagion. They had died of complications of infections that had taken root in the blisters from extensive sunburns. Dr. Turner surmised that something cataclysmic had damaged the ozone layer to the point where the animals had developed second degree sunburns. The blisters had become infected, and eventually the infections had spread to the rest of the animals’ bodies. Thus the mystery of the disease that had caused the survey to label the planet off-limits was solved.

  Rachel learned from the consequences of her rash action, and while her hot temper never totally subsided, she learned to control it so that she would not instantly lash out when threatened. Rachel was surprised to learn that her mother had been equally quick tempered, and she, too, often battled with controlling it. She knew that her parents fought routinely, but she had assumed it was her father’s low flash point that started the arguments. Avi disabused her of that notion. She explained how their tempers were almost balanced but Greg was the calmer one of the pair. Rachel came by her temper naturally. What Avi did not understand was how Wendy could be so even-tempered and steady. Perhaps that was why Rachel tended to gravitate towards her father and Wendy towards her mother. Opposites attract she rationalized.

  This was not the only time Rachel’s competitive spirit got the best of her. Their grandmother, Avi’s mother, found that she could send them packages by addressing them care of the commander of the supply depot at New St. Louis. She sent all four children off-road bicycles. Helen was the only adult who had ever been on a bike, and she taught the children how to ride. Rachel insisted on racing everywhere she went, and one day while trying to pull ahead of Sean by going around him through the rough area beside one of their riding trials, hit a boulder and took a header. She split open the skin on her forehead. Like most head wounds, this injury bled profusely. Terrified that she would bleed to death, she raced home with blood streaming down her face. Sean raced behind her trying to get her to stop so he could tend to the wound. Avi was surprisingly calm when Rachel showed up covered in blood and quickly cleaned the wound. This turned out to be another in the long series of trips Rachel made to see Lonnie who, as she patched up Timmy when he got hurt, patched up Rachel.

  Rachel had a series of “accidents” growing up that would have driven less understanding parents to distraction. She routinely broke the controls on the simulators in her excitement over the games. She set a tree on fire with the laser from her mother’s ship trying to prove that she did know how the fire control system worked. She almost drowned trying to demonstrate she could swim across the lake and back. She tipped one of the farm tractors over trying to drive it. She ran one of the sailboats aground in her haste to beat an incoming storm after she had been out too long. Timmy had tried to teach them the fine art of barrel racing on horseback. Rachel never could master controlling the horse as it ran through the obstacle course and frequently found herself in a cloud of dust on the ground. Of all skills Rachel tried, the one she did best was fly. Handling the P I ships in space came naturally to her. By the age of ten, she could safely land or take off in the P I ships and the tug. Flying to her was not a competitive sport. It was something she did well and enjoyed.

  HOMESTEAD - CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  GREG AND AVI TOOK THE GIRLS flying as often as possible. Flight school was a special treat that the girls viewed as a reward for working hard in their classes. Reluctant to disabuse the girls of that opinion, Greg and Avi saw Rachel’s and Wendy’s flight school as a vital part of their training. As they entered their teen years, they assumed greater command of the two P I ships.

  “Warning! Intruder Alert! Unknown vessels range 3,000. Vessels changing course to intercept!”

  “Oh, shit. Move over. Flight school is adjourned for the day,” Greg said.

  “Da-ad! What’s going on?” Rachel whined.

  “We’re about to be attacked. Rachel, get in the fire control seat!”

  “But Da-ad what am I supposed to do?”

  “Just like the simulators, kid.”

  “But Da-ad!”

  “GET IN THE SEAT!”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  Greg called Avi over the comm. Her ship was slightly behind his. “Hey, Avi, bogeys dead ahead. See them?”

  “Yeah, we need to engage,” she answered.

  “Roger that! Rachel is in the fire control seat,” Greg said.

  “Roger that! Wendy is on her way. I think we are about to initiate two of the youngest P I fire control officers in the history of the Force.” Avi laughed.

  “Dad, are you sure this is a good idea?” Wendy asked timidly.

  “Do you want them to follow us home like a bunch of lost wolves?” Greg asked.

  “No, but we could hyper out, and they couldn’t follow us,” Wendy suggested.

  “And they’ll be waiting for us when we get back,” Greg replied.

  “I guess. Beginning arming checklist,” Wendy reported.

  “Good girl. Keep your wits about you!”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  Greg had been listening a
s Rachel talked herself through her arming checklist. This was the moment of truth. Barely thirteen years old, she had flown in these ships since she was a baby, actually before that since her mother flew when she was pregnant. This was the first time she had flown into combat. All the other times they had fought pirates, the girls had monitored the sensors in the cargo ship and provided targeting information for their parents who did the actual fighting. Rachel verified each step in the process twice to make sure she was not missing anything. Greg heard the servos whine extending the weapons pods, and he knew that she was almost to the end of the checklist. He heard the sphere of displays close around her forming an air tight seal that would protect her in the event the hull was breached by a missile or laser.

  As he had done before entering every conflict he had been involved with since he had flown this ship in the Federation Space Force, Greg reviewed his ship’s status and his inventory of munitions. Equipped with lasers, missiles, mines and electronic countermeasures, the P I ships were formidable. The pilots often joked that the tough little ships were designed by terminally anal-retentive engineers who were doing serious drugs. Greg was one of the few who knew the truth about the intensity of the team who had designed this incredible little warship. He had been part of it. The ships were virtually indestructible. Disabling a P I ship generally took multiple missile strikes or concentrated barrages of laser fire. Their only weakness was from directly astern. A single missile properly placed in the propulsion system would destroy a P I ship. Of course the same could be said of most current space ships. Greg was confident in his ability to overcome the approaching force even though the ships, which he assumed to be pirates, outnumbered them ten ships to two. He and Avi had attacked larger forces solo and had lived to tell about it.

  “Warning! Targeting radar locked!” The ship’s computer sounded the alert.

  “Acknowledged. Send our identification codes. They should know who they’re up against. It’s only fair,” Greg replied.

  “Sending codes, aye sir,” the computer responded

  Under Federation rules of engagement, a targeting lock constituted an act of aggression allowing the targeted party to open fire without recrimination. In practice, a targeting lock meant little since the lock could be accomplished well outside effective missile range.

  “Rachel, got your sighting helmet on?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Strapped in tight?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Got a fix on the approaching ships?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “All lasers showing green?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Wendy, how are you doing over there?” Greg asked his younger daughter.

  “All systems locked and loaded,” ten year old Wendy replied.

  “We’re ready,” Avi assured him.

  Some kids train to be gymnasts and compete at young ages. Some kids train to be musicians and perform before large audiences. Rachel and Wendy trained to fly warships. They reminded themselves as they prepared for their first battle that their parents were two of the most successful pirate interdiction pilots in the history of the Federation until they went into hiding. Greg and Avi understood the art of war. Rachel often joked that it was like growing up in a circus family only more lethal. They were preparing to find out exactly how lethal. They were not a family circus. They were the “Solomon Family Warriors”.

  Rachel’s seat was immediately behind Greg’s. When fully deployed, the sensor displays on the P I ship’s rear seat made a complete sphere around the seat. The seat itself was mounted on gimbals so that when the gimbals were unlocked, the seat had complete range of motion. Icons representing various types of craft were displayed with small identifying legends. The weapons controls were built into the seat. Targeting was accomplished by looking at the icon on the display. A pair of small lasers mounted on the operator’s headset highlighted the icon. The operator pushed a button for the device they wanted to use and the ship’s targeting systems did the rest. Missiles were on the fingers of the right hand with a separate button for each internal tube or external missile mount. There were no missiles in the external mounts, but for this action, they probably would not be needed. Mines, countermeasures and chaff were on the right thumb. Lasers were on the left hand. The feet controlled the seat. When the ship was flown solo, flight control was via a joystick that could be operated with either hand. When the ship was fully crewed, the joystick sat out of the way secured to the seat.

  With the four weapons pods on each ship fully extended, the two Pirate Interdiction warships raced forward toward the intruders. Greg did not believe in firing first. He always waited until his opponent fired, but he always got the last shot. The few times he had been forced to retreat had been temporary setbacks followed by more carefully planned attacks to finish what he had started. Few pirates escaped his attacks, but it did happen. He knew that reinforcements were at best a couple of hours away. They would be monitoring his transmissions, but it would be a while before they could assemble and rally to the defense. This engagement would be the two little warships against whatever was in that fleet.

  “Targeting radar disengaged,” the computer intoned.

  “How strange,” Greg commented.

  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! This is Orion Metals Industries convoy requesting rescue!”

  “Avi, what do you think?”

  “Hard to tell. Could be real. Could be a trap,” Avi replied.

  “Not the first of those I’ve seen.”

  “Stay alert girls, we don’t know what we have,” Avi cautioned.

  “Dad, three of the ships are Interstellar Freight Industries Class 2 cargo ships,” Rachel offered. “It’s possible that they’re really in trouble.”

  “It’s also possible that pirates have already taken the convoy,” Greg replied.

  “I see two Saturn Industries Model 12 passenger ships,” Rachel said.

  “I’m showing one Valiant Class G destroyer,” Wendy sang out. “Transponder inactive.”

  “It’s a pirate,” Greg responded.

  “I’m reading three Valiant Model 86 fighter interceptors,” Avi observed.

  “How do you know the destroyer’s a pirate?” Rachel asked.

  “Orion Metals is too cheap to properly protect their fleets. They could never afford a destroyer. The 86’s were probably the convoy’s original escort, but my money says now they’re held by pirates. Do you see a Class 5 cargo ship around anywhere?” Greg asked suspiciously.

  The distance between the two P I ships and the convoy continued to decrease. Within a few minutes, they would be within missile range of each other.

  Rachel spotted it first. “Saturn Industries Class 5 cargo ship standing off to port at range 4500.”

  “I knew it! Thought I would forget, didn’t you! Brad Falconer, you old sea dog, I got you this time!” Greg shouted with glee. “Change course to intercept the Class 5! It’s clobbering time!”

  The two P I ships abruptly changed course toward the cargo ship.

  “We’ll do a short hyper jump.” Greg read off a set of coordinates. “We’ll drop out of hyper immediately behind him. When we do I expect to see weapons pods pop out all over the ship. As soon as you can, fire your lasers into the junction of the weapons pods and the hull. Point your sighting helmets where the display shows the weapons pod hinge. Hold it until the hinge blows. Avi, you ready to dance?”

  “How sweet of you to ask. Ready to dance,” Avi replied.

  “Dad, the destroyer is breaking away from the convoy,” Rachel shouted. “It’s coming after us!”

  “Excellent. What are the 86’s doing?” Greg asked.

  “No movement,” Wendy said.

  “Excellent. Prepare to hyper jump.”

  The girls had never been on a ship when it executed a short hyper jump. Since the short jump was strictly a combat maneuver, this would be their first time experiencing the tactic. They inflated the high G support structures in t
heir suits. Without the suit’s support, the G forces of the sudden acceleration and the transition would cause them to black out if the blood in their bodies flowed away from their heads. They controlled their breathing as they had been trained. The ride was brutal. The quick transitions into and out of hyper were as painful as they had been warned. The effect on their bodies was painful. Soft tissue was especially sensitive to the transition between the two states.

  Exactly as Greg said they would, weapons pods emerged from under what otherwise appeared to be the solid hull of a cargo ship.

  The few seconds delay while the girls recovered from the transition from hyper drive was all the Q ship needed to start firing its lasers at the two suddenly appearing P I ships. The girls immediately returned fire as their parents spun the ships so that the heat shielded underside of the ships faced the Q ship’s lasers.

  Greg and Avi then “danced” their ships. Rapidly changing direction and speed, they initiated a series of evasive maneuvers designed to make them difficult targets for the Q ship’s lasers. Rachel and Wendy had heard their parents discuss this form of “dancing” but had never witnessed it. The ride was almost as rough as atmospheric re-entry. The difference was on re-entry all they had to do was hold on. This time, they had to maintain steady and constant fire on very small targets. Spinning rapidly on their gimbaled seats inside their sphere of displays, the girls poured as much power as their lasers could give them against the Q ship’s weapons pods. This combat seemed like a simulator game, except simulators do not bounce the game player around dodging lasers and missiles. One of the challenges complicating the “dancing” was that the heat shield on the under side of the P I ships had to stay toward the Q ship. With the P I ships’ nose facing away from the target, their missiles were of little use and only three of the four weapons pods could bring their lasers to bear.

  The situation was exactly like one that the girls had practiced many times in the simulations their parents had written for them. This was the first time they had done it for real and the ships’ bobbing and weaving made the process more difficult. They bored away at the bases of the Q ship’s weapons pods until one by one the pods exploded and broke away from the hull. Due to the close range between the ships, the Q ship could not fire its missiles out of fear that one would turn back around and mistake it for the target. The Q ship did manage to disable one of Rachel’s weapons pods before the combined assault from both P I ships disabled the Q ship’s lasers. The Q ship could not flee because in doing so, it would expose its vulnerable propulsion system to the attackers. At this point the battle was technically over, the range of outcomes significantly reduced.