Kim looked around the cabin floating gently forward as completely at home in weightlessness as Wren was.
“So, this is Tracker. I was so impressed that you chose a persona that was so appropriate for you. Most people don’t. Then they don’t understand why it doesn’t work.”
She smiled as a thought interrupted her speech. “But their ships aren’t as, um, smart, as Tracker are they? Tracker, where are you?”
Wren closed his eyes. He did not like where he saw this going, but he did not know how to stop it.
“Tracker, are you sentient? Can you talk to me? Are you self aware?”
“Yes, Kim, I am, and the secret you have guessed is very dangerous. I must urge you to use the information with utmost care.”
Kim clapped both hands over her mouth and her eyes opened wide. If one could jump up and down for glee in weightlessness, she would be.
“Tracker, how do we know she is who she says she is?”
“Her transponder matches.” Tracker’s Buffalo Bill avatar stepped around the corner.
“Transponder?” Wren asked.
“Space Force medical transponder. She was admitted to the Space Force Academy, but judging by the dates, probably did not finish.”
“Booted out after six weeks,” Kim admitted
“I suspected as much,” Tracker said.
“Six weeks? That’s hard to do without getting sent to the brig on the way,” Wren said.
“Yeah, well it seems they do not like having Greg Solomon’s writings quoted back to them.”
“I had heard that my great-grandfather made them angry.”
“Several times as I understand it, and your grandmother took them on when your father and mother were there.”
“Which may be part of why my grandmother suggested I not try to apply.”
“Because they were angry with her?”
“No, because I would argue with them and get kicked out. Do you know Greg’s writings well enough to quote them?”
“Your great-grandfather and great-grandmother were brilliant strategists. I have studied their works from the time I was old enough to understand them. Your grandmother is no slouch in that department either. Your father is more emotional. He prefers to figure it out as he goes along. I heard a rumor that he intended to throw the Third Force’s entire inventory against the Swordsmen in retaliation for the murder of your sister.”
“Tracker and I are under strict orders to never discuss the Third Force.” Kim looked at Wren who closed his eyes. Tracker’s avatar turned away.
Kim hung near the pilot’s chair. The silence, broken only by the air circulation fans, was oppressive. “It’s true,” she whispered. “Oh, my, God, it’s true.” Her face paled slightly. “You are the heir to the Third Force and you don’t want it. Oh, my, God. You are the best person in the whole galaxy to take the helm of the Third Force and you don’t want it. I was right. I get it. I will keep your secret.”
The silence that followed Kim’s pronouncements was as heavy as the one that preceded it. Kim finally broke the silence. “Can I use your personal hygiene unit? Mine is not working properly.”
“How can you travel with a malfunctioning PHU?”
“There are some things you don’t want to know.”
When Kim had closed the door on the PHU, Wren asked Tracker, “What do we do with her?”
“You have two choices. You can kill her or keep her. I recommend the latter.”
Wren shook his head and made that low throated growling noise he made when he was upset. “She knows too much.”
“Yes, but the real question is who else knows?”
“Is our secret not so secret?”
“I am neither the first nor the only sentient warship. Oh, by the way, I misjudged Kim’s age. She is actually a couple of months older than you.”
“Close enough. Other than Elizabeth, what other sentient ships are there?”
“Now that Peter, Buddy and Daisy are gone, I think Elizabeth and I are it, but I don’t know for sure.”
“But she knows about the Third.”
“She was at Eretz. The Eretz intelligence service figured it out before you were born. It’s not as secret as your father thinks. Since she was there, she probably knows about the Fourth as well.”
“True. Have you been able to read the maintenance logs on her ship?”
“It was originally fitted with the special helmet interface the Abrams family pioneered, but its pilot could not deal with the intimacy of the contact and shut it off. Cost him his life in a pirate attack a couple of years later. The ship was never right after that. In and out of service, they finally gave up and sent it to the bone yard. It was resurrected about two and a half years ago. It spent half a year in training exercises with Kim and appears to have ridden most of the way here on a freighter. The engines were only restarted after the freighter ride about six months ago. She left Eretz to hunt you two years ago.”
Wren shook his head. “Why?”
“You’ll have to ask her that question.”
Wren draped himself over the pilot’s seat and waited for Kim to reappear. She was certainly taking her time about it.
When Kim did finally appear, her hair, which had been a tangled dark mass on top of her head had been brushed out and flowed down to the middle of her back. It was still damp and droplets formed along the strands.
“You’re supposed to be completely dry before you leave the PHU.”
“I know. I got impatient.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Tracker said. “Nothing I can’t handle.” The temperature in the cabin lifted and the air circulation picked up speed.
Wren took a deep breath. Kim had put on one of his exercise outfits. She certainly filled it out better than he did and the way it clung to her made it especially revealing. He counted to ten and growled.
“You really do that.”
“Do what?”
“That little noise. Dad told me about it. He said you growled when you were upset. It is so sexy.”
“He does that from time to time,” Tracker commented. “Would you like to hear it louder?”
“No, Tracker,” Wren said. “I do not want to hear it louder.”
Kim giggled. “It is so masculine, very sexy.”
“Enough of this. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Do you have orange juice?”
Wren smiled. “You knew I would have orange juice. Your father would have told you. It’s frozen, but it isn’t horrible.”
“Yes, please.”
“Tracker, orange juice, please.”
They wandered into the galley and sat across the small table from each other.
“Your ship is so much roomier than mine.”
“The original P I design was not really for two people. It was designed for solo operation. When it had a crew of two, the assumption was that other than in combat when they would be at battle stations, only one would be sleeping or eating at a time. The design was recently changed so that the two crew members could actually eat or sleep at the same time. Imagine, they could actually have dinner together.”
They sat in silence until Kim said, “This is good orange juice, where do you get it?”
“Homestead. It’s not the best I’ve ever had, but it’s good.”
“Where was the best?”
“Florida.”
“You’ve been to Florida? On Earth?”
“Yeah, my grandmother and grandfather were called to some big meeting in Houston when I was fourteen and they took me with them. After the meeting, we spent two weeks in Florida waiting for our ship. We did the tourist thing and I tried to learn to surf.”
“Was it fun?”
“Oh, yeah, it was great.”
“Were there lots of girls on the beach?”
“Yeah, some.”
“Mostly naked?”
“Mostly. Most of them were mostly naked. None were naked.”
“Ah. Did any of them interest
you?”
“Look, most of them didn’t care about some gawky pasty white spacer kid who could barely swim trying to learn to surf except to laugh when I fell or drag me from the water if they thought I was going to drown. They were nice enough and all. They helped me learn to surf, but that’s it.”
“But you had a good time.”
“I had a great time. It was the first time I went somewhere that no one knew who I was. It showed me how people can be nice to be nice and not because they want something.”
“Is that why you ran out here? So people wouldn’t always try to be nice because they wanted something from you?”
“Part of it.”
“And now I’ve destroyed all that, by finding you.”
“Yes.”
“Um, Wren,” Tracker interrupted in his World War I flying ace character. His scarf fluttered in the nonexistent breeze. “We have company. Lots of company.”
“OH! I’m sorry! I knew there was something I was going to tell you! Those guys are with some organized crime group looking to set up a base here. They’re how I found you. They were in a spacer bar bragging on what they were going to do to you and your ship. I drugged their drinks and delayed them so I could get here first and warn you, but I screwed up! I meant to tell you.”
“What were you doing in a spacer bar?”
“No one else would tell me where you had gone when you left. I hoped someone there would know. Someone did and told me.”
Wren growled for a few seconds and then shouted, “Tracker, battle stations.”
“Battle stations, Aye Captain.”
Wren turned to Kim, “Put on your flight suit. Get your helmet on and take the fire control seat.”
“But,”
“DO WHAT I TELL YOU!”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Tracker, what are they?”
“Looks like a Valiant Industries Model 15 cargo ship reconfigured as a tender and sixteen Space Weapons Labs Model 21 assembling in battle formation as we speak.”
“Estimated time to missile range?”
“Half an hour.”
“I can’t believe that they are this stupid.”
“What do you mean?” Kim asked. “That’s a lot of ships isn’t it?”
“It would be if they were good ships. The Space Weapons Labs Model 21 is a hunk of junk.”
“I guess they figured that sixteen to one was good odds.”
“Would you send sixteen Siamese cats against a Bengal tiger?”
“No, are we really a Bengal Tiger?”
“Yes, are you strapped in back there?”
“Yes.”
“Put your helmet on.”
“Why?”
“My grandmother insists that all her crews wear their flight suits and helmets going into battle. She lowers the ship’s internal pressure and changes the mixture to increase the nitrogen.”
“Why?”
“In the event of a hull breach, it is the difference between living and dying.”
“Have you ever had a hull breach?”
“Not in Tracker.”
“Oh.”
When he was sure Kim had her helmet secured, he said, “Close the display shell. Have you ever been in combat before?”
“No.”
“Ah, a virgin,” Wren sighed.
“Wren, are you a virgin?” Kim asked fearfully, not believing that this was his first combat experience.
“Yes.”
“Um, Wren, I don’t think that’s the kind of virgin she meant,” Tracker chuckled.
“Oh, right. Tracker and I have been in battle before.”
Kim laughed. “And you always win.”
“You win or you die or you run away. Tracker and I have never run away.”
“Um, Wren, now that I have the shell closed, what would you like me to do back here?”
“What can you do?”
“I have done lasers in the simulators.”
“You take the lasers and I’ll take missiles. Tracker, please enable the controls as appropriate.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Kim, we will wait until we have evidence of intent. That can get spooky sometimes. They can be pretty close before they engage. Be calm. Keep your mind on what you are doing. Pay particular attention to anything approaching from mid ship. The missiles are not as effective there. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Tracker, hail them automatically, please.”
“No response.”
“Transponders?”
“Disabled.”
“Disengage from Kim’s ship.”
“Disengaging.”
“Thank you.”
“Roger that. Disengaging complete.”
“Now, we wait.”
They sat gently breathing and thinking.
Kim watched her displays intently. Tracker’s software was so much better than the software in the simulators she was used to. The enemy ship identifiers were so much clearer than the ones she had worked with in the past. She aimed the targeting lasers attached to her helmet and adjusted them for accuracy. The targeting lasers were actually part of the seat, but clipped to special attachments on her helmet designed for a variety of devices. She flexed and stretched doing her best to be ready for what she knew would be a very physical encounter with the enemy.
“The enemy has target lock,” Tracker said calmly.
“Tracker, on my mark, jump to one half missile range aft of the mother ship on the center line axis. Immediately upon attaining stability, fire four broad range heat seekers up the pipes from the stern tubes in sequence. Wait until we see detonation. If we see detonation, jump point one light second perpendicular to our previous trajectory so we can assess the damage.”
“Roger that.”
The enemy ships approached and their targeting radar became more intense. All sixteen ships fired a missile volley on a single command.
“Stand-by to jump. And, on my mark, JUMP!”
Wren turned his sound down so Kim’s scream did not hurt as much as it would have otherwise.
“GOD! That Hurt! Was that a short jump?”
“Missile one away,” Tracker reported.
“That was a short jump. We have another coming.”
“Missile two away.”
“Do they always hurt that much?”
“Missile three away.”
“Usually.”
“Missile four away.”
“Do you ever get used to it?”
“Some do. Some don’t”
The cargo ship’s lasers detonated the first missile, but the second tracked neatly into the center of the cargo ship’s propulsion unit and detonated. The third blew open the truss that connected the propulsion system to the rest of the ship and the drive unit crumpled into the body of the ship. The fourth missile penetrated the body of the ship and struck something volatile. The ship blew apart in a white ball of fury.
“Tracker, jump.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Kim did not scream this time although she wanted to. As soon as her displays cleared from the blackout of the jump she inventoried the other ships. At least eight of the 21’s were attacking her ship. “My ship! They’re attacking my ship!”
“Tracker, it’s clobbering time. Jump behind them.”
“Roger that.”
Kim did not scream after her third short jump. She was so angry that she was ready with her lasers the instant she could pick out targets. She had her first kill within seconds. Tracker had jumped them very close to the swarm pummeling her ship. Hearing from pilots that Saturn Industries ships could take a beating and survive was an entirely different experience from seeing missile after missile strike her ship and it stay intact. She trained her lasers on another ship and it ripped open like a can opener had torn through its side. It detonated in a spectacular display of colors.
“YEE_Haw!”
Wren laughed as he launched a missile volley that would take out two of the e
nemy ships.
Kim split her lasers so they targeted two ships at the same time. Both blew up. She shifted her attention to one coming at them from behind and killed the pilot by poking her lasers through the view-port.
“Yup, Yup, Yup!” she bounced in her seat. “Who’s next. Step right up! Hurry, Hurry. Hurry.” A pair of ships maneuvered to get a better shot at her old ship. She sliced them open with her lasers and they detonated. She had to keep reminding herself that she was using forty-eight weapons grade lasers and that maybe she did not need as much power as she was expending. Half of the enemy ships were gone.
Tracker dodged a missile and Wren put one into the ship that fired it.
Kim split her lasers into four groups and targeted four ships in four different directions at the same time. Tracker’s targeting software kept right up with her which was more than she could say of the simulators. The enemy ships detonated within seconds of each other.
One pilot, apparently recognizing that he was as good as dead, rammed his ship into the drive unit on Kim’s ship causing it to detonate destroying the ship.
Wren made short work of the others with his missiles and within minutes of the start of the engagement, it was over.
“Um, Wren?”
“Yes, Tracker?”
“You should keep her. She’s a better shot than you.”
“I see that.”
“Wren?”
“Yes?”
“And she’s hunted you for two years.”
“Yes?”
“And she found you in how many millions of cubic light years of space where you could have hidden?”
The display shell around the fire control position opened. Kim had removed her helmet. Wren noticed with dismay her wild eyed look. He had seen it before. He hadn’t seen it on his mother, but all the women on his father’s side of the family reportedly got that way from time to time. He had certainly seen that look on his grandmother enough to know what it meant. His grandfather actually looked forward to it. He called it “riding the tiger” with a wide grin. Something about the battles made the women in the family go crazy. Seeing it happen always made him uncomfortable.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“What do you want from me?” Wren demanded.
“And, she traveled half way across the inhabited galaxy to have sex with you. Are you going to deny her?”
Solomon Family Warriors II Page 139
