Solomon Family Warriors II

by Robert H. Cherny

  “Tracker, we take out the satellite first and then deal with what attacks us. Kim, take the lead with the lasers. We have a finite number of missiles, but as long as the reactors are running we will have lasers. They won’t overheat. You keep hitting your targets until they blow.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Tracker, let’s go.”

  The satellite was equipped with automatic lasers, but, by keeping Tracker’s heat shield facing the satellite, Kim was able to destroy the satellite with the force of her greater number of more powerful lasers. The Swordsman ships boiled up from their base on the moon like a bunch of hornets from a thumped hive. As soon as Wren figured enough of the small enemy ships were headed in his direction, he short jumped to a point directly over the base they had launched from.

  Lasers and missiles immediately appeared headed in their direction. In a series of short jumps, Wren ran the missiles around in a circle until they ran out of fuel and started to fall back to the surface. The laser shore batteries shifted their attention away from Tracker and toward their own missiles that were now raining down around them. Wren jumped again, not waiting to witness the destruction he had caused without the expenditure of a single of his own missiles to confront the Swordsman ships that had turned around and were aggressively approaching with targeting radar flying around all over the place.

  “These guys are a mess. Who trained them anyway?” Wren said half under his breath. “Kim, I am going to do a series of short jumps. Whatever is closest you shoot at it. If you don’t kill it, don’t worry, you’ll get another chance. There is a pattern to this, but I can’t explain it now. Just keep shooting as long as you have something to shoot at.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Wren, you know what you’re doing to my reactors. Short jumps are not good for them.”

  “I know. We’ll get you new reactors before these wear out. I’ll make sure you always have shiny new reactors to play with.”

  Kim’s chuckle was cut short as Wren made his first jump.

  Kim’s previous battles had involved fewer enemy and at much better odds. These ships were more powerful than the ones she had faced previously and therefore were much harder to kill. Still the compulsiveness of the engineers who had originally designed the P I ship showed itself once again. Kim had read the history of the P I. She understood Greg Solomon’s role in its development and the creation of the strategies for its use. In spite of the fact that his writings were many decades old and virtually all other weapons systems of that era were obsolete, the P I ship lived on even if its proper use was poorly understood. Kim knew from the way he handled the ship that Wren knew what to do with this unique piece of space hardware. Even as they pressed their attack, Kim felt that the safest place in the galaxy she could be was in the back seat behind Wren flying with Tracker.

  The battle took eight hours before the last of the Swordsman ships went spinning into the atmosphere below. Even Tracker seemed exhausted.

  “Tracker, am I correct that we have expended all the exterior mounted missiles?” Wren asked.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Is there anything that would prevent us from descending to the surface?”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “To check on the miners.”

  “If you feel you must, at least there is a runway for me to land on.”

  “Kim, are you ready?”

  “Aye, Captain!”

  Kim’s first entry into a planet’s atmosphere in a P I ship was not as brutal as she expected it to be. One more time she was thankful for the compulsiveness of the original engineers that designed the tough little ship. They had assumed that some times the only place a ship could hide would be on a planet’s surface and they had designed this weapon to be able to hide in a variety of hostile environments.

  Tracker rolled to a stop in front of the main terminal building. The field appeared to have been abandoned. No security system had challenged them. No one rode out to either greet them or attack them.

  “Tracker, point back down the runway in case we have to get out of here in a hurry.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Kim, put on your combat armor. We’re going out. Tracker, what is the air composition?”

  “Mostly nitrogen, some carbon dioxide, less than half the oxygen needed to support human life.”

  Kim put on her combat armor and fastened her helmet. She dug the laser rifles out of the locker. She also picked up a set of ballistic pistols. Somewhere there were women in this complex and if anyone had harmed them, she was going to see that they paid dearly for their crimes.

  They entered the main terminal building through a set of unlocked air traps. They walked slowly forward through what looked like the typical immigration processing facility. They turned the corner behind the desks and came face to face with a platoon of Federation Marines in combat armor. All but the leader had their weapons leveled at them.

  “State your name, planet of origin and the purpose of your visit.”

  “I am Warren Elias Cohen. I claim to no planet. I grew up on the colony ship Queen Elizabeth and at the Stellar Interstellar headquarters complex. We have met a group of Swordsmen ships in combat and have defeated them. We wished to ascertain the safety of the planet’s inhabitants. This is my fiancée.”

  “The lady will speak for herself.”

  “I am Kimberly Anne Stoll. I was born and raised at Eretz. We have defeated a small Swordsman fleet and I wished to verify that the women in the settlement had not been harmed.”

  “The women have not been harmed. You may leave now.”

  “I wish to see for myself.”

  “Pushy ain’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take off your helmet so we can see who you are. The air is safe.”

  “Tracker, is the air safe in here?”

  “Your suit sensors suggest it is safe if rather musty and stale smelling.”

  Kim removed her helmet and let her hair flow down her back. Wren removed his helmet. They stood with their weapons pointed at the ceiling facing the Marines who had not relaxed at all.

  Tracker was right. The air smelled foul as if too many people lived in too small a space, but it was breathable.

  “Who do you work for?” The Marine asked.

  “We are freelance pilots. We do odd jobs, like convoy escort. We escorted the cargo ship that just left,” Wren said.

  “Are you sure you’re not Swordsmen?”

  Wren looked the Marine in the eye as best he could through the helmet’s face shield. “I am Greg and Avi Solomon’s great-grandson. Captain Rachel Solomon Cohen is my grandmother. Saul Cohen of Stellar Interstellar is my father. How dare you accuse me of being a Swordsman after we killed a fleet of them over your heads!”

  “I understand that your transponders match what you claim. You may follow me,” the Marine said.

  The Marines surrounded them but did not take their weapons. They walked down many flights of stairs until they came to a shelter dug deep into the rock. Upon entering the shelter they found it packed with starved looking women and children. The Marine lieutenant removed her helmet and revealed that she had been using a voice synthesizer to sound like a man.

  “Most of our men have been killed trying to retrieve the containers the freighters dropped. We are starving, but we are afraid to go out.”

  “Wren and I will fly patrol while you get the food you need from the containers. We have a warship. We will send a courier to Stellar headquarters informing them of your plight. We will stay until help arrives.”

  Suddenly realizing she might have spoken out of turn, Kim turned to Wren, who smiled and nodded.

  “We’ll go back to the ship and establish a patrol pattern so you can get the containers.”

  “Thank you.”

  Wren and Kim ascended the stairs. They put their helmets on and then stepped outside. Kim pulled Wren close so their helmets touched and their voices could pass by physical
contact. “Something doesn’t add up,” Kim said.

  “I know. Containers went up to that ship and containers came down. How did that happen if they are as afraid as they say they are of going outside?”

  “Do you think the men are in those containers that went to the freighter?”

  “Like a Trojan Horse?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can we contact the freighter?”

  “No, but we can get a courier off that will get there before the freighter does. In the meantime we stay here and keep our guard up.”

  The patrol proceeded without incident, the women came out of the shelter and collected the contents of the containers that had been dropped from the freighter. Kim, Wren and Tracker had been on station two weeks when a pair of Stellar convoy escorts hailed them. Unlike the P I ship, the convoy escort could not enter the atmosphere, but since it carried over ten times the ordinance of a P I that did not seem like much of an issue.

  After formal protocols had been observed, the lead escort’s pilot said, “Hey, you two, nice work. We got both your couriers before the freighter arrived, but your first one aroused so much suspicion we boarded the freighter well outside the shipping lanes. The freighter’s pilot and crew had no idea there was anything wrong until we broke open the containers and found soldiers inside.”

  “That’s good news. What about the planet?”

  “Colony Service has a ship coming out to take over. They’ll straighten it out.”

  “Wouldn’t be the Queen Elizabeth would it?”

  “No, she’s out on a long run somewhere. It’s a smaller ship. You are relieved. We’ve got it from here. Well, done folks. Thanks! Hey, if we ever hit a station where alcohol is allowed, I’ll buy the first round.”

  “Roger that!”

  Wren, Kim and Tracker returned to headquarters and were there less than a day before being contracted to go out again. As Wren commented, “You don’t make any money sitting in port.”

  They headed out. This mission, ostensibly identical to the previous one, met no resistance. In fact, one of the local news reporters insisted on being allowed to come on board to interview them. The interview focused on the challenges of living together in such a small space for such long times. After the mission they turned around and headed out again except that this time they were meeting a Colony Service delegation that was visiting them as part of an inspection tour.

  The six months they promised they would wait to get married passed quickly. They had been out of touch for six long months and were looking forward to some time to relax.

  WREN - CHAPTER FIVE

  WREN, KIM AND TRACKER DEPOSITED the ship they had escorted at the docks reserved for visiting dignitaries and requested a dock assignment.

  “Hey, Kim, did you bring him back in one piece?”

  “Yes, Charlie, he’s a little tattered around the edges, but he’ll live.”

  “Please proceed to Dock 141.”

  “Charlie, where is Dock 141?” Wren asked.

  “Next to Dock 140.”

  “Ha Ha.”

  “At your one o’clock you should be able to see a Fiona class freighter unloading. Just past that on the left.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Fiona class? Is that in honor of your mother?”

  “Yeah, she had a lot to to with getting them designed and built. Hey, Tracker, are they unloading what I think they are unloading?”

  “It looks like a fleet of P I ships,” Tracker replied.

  “That’s strange. Stellar doesn’t use P I ships except for us and a couple assigned to Elizabeth. Why would they be off loading them here?” Wren asked.

  “What’s even stranger is that these ships have never been turned on. Not even flight tested. They’re from Saturn’s yard at Eretz, but they are not finished. It’s like they threw them on the freighter regardless whether they were done or not. None of them are even fueled. Look at the inspection markings. They haven’t been broken,” Tracker observed.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I don’t think I like it,” Wren observed.

  They pulled around past the freighter unloading the P I ships and as one they gasped. A brand new row of brightly lit docks arrayed before them. The first was 141. The highest number was 160. Sitting at 160 was an M class freighter outfitted as a tender. The docks in between that were occupied held new P I ships some of them still in the process of being secured to the dock since they could not move under their own power, yet.

  “I have a real bad feeling about this,” Wren said.

  “That makes three of us,” Kim said softly.

  “Roger that,” Tracker agreed.

  They secured to the dock and Tracker said, “Look ahead at your eleven. That’s the Queen Elizabeth. She’s hailing me to establish a secure comm link for a mission data download.”

  “Tracker, we don’t know how she feels about you being sentient. Make sure you examine everything she sends you.”

  “She also is requesting that you and Kim report to her galley right away.”

  “Tracker, how is she communicating with you?”

  “Modulated ultraviolet laser. She’s using an unusual encrypting algorithm. She really does not want anyone to intercept the transmission.”

  Wren shook his head slowly. “Something huge is up. I guess we need to go. Tracker, once we leave, seal yourself tight. I don’t even want a maintenance tech to touch you. Use force if necessary.”

  “Roger that.”

  Two familiar Marines met Wren and Kim as soon as they exited the ship. Wren looked at them and said, “Why am I not surprised?”

  They were not smiling. “Please follow us.”

  They climbed into an electric maintenance cart and drove the short distance to Queen Elizabeth’s dock. A sign over one of the docks they passed on the way indicated that it held Saul and Fiona’s personal convoy escort ship. Wren silently pointed it out to Kim who nodded.

  The Marines wordlessly escorted Wren and Kim to the galley. The galley had been set with a large table in the center of the room. Wren’s uncle Timothy, chairman of the family council that ran Stellar Interstellar, sat at the head. The remainder of the half brothers and sisters that made up the council sat along the sides with Wren’s parents seated next to each other on Timothy’s right.

  Timothy stood. “Welcome home, Wren and Kim. Please, be seated.” He pointed to two empty chairs at the foot of the table. Wren looked around the packed room. The history of the people in this room would take volumes to tell. All the surviving members of the Solomon dynasty and the Abrams family that had supported them had gathered in one place for the first time. Many in the youngest generation had never met their older relatives.

  Wren wanted to believe that they had gathered for the wedding, but somehow he knew better. The presence of an Eretz Defense System admiral standing next to Timothy was not his first clue, but it gnawed at him. “With all due respect, sir, I think we should stand.” Wren noticed that Marines stayed by the doors. He wondered if it was to keep people out or him in.

  “As you wish,” Timothy said, apparently not surprised at the answer. “We have asked your grandfather to speak for us in view of the closeness of your relationship with him.” Timothy sat down.

  “Wren, your recent encounter with the Swordsmen accelerated a process that we have been working on for years. You have always figured to play a major role in our plans. Kim’s arrival and your relationship with her has provided further evidence of the wisdom of our earlier decisions. Your parents did not abandon you. You were taken from them over their objections. I did that. I knew that we would need a dynamic leader in your generation and you were chosen.”

  “Grandfather, I do not like where I see this going,” Wren said.

  “Which is one of the reasons we chose you.”

  Wren growled deep in his throat louder than Kim could remember having heard it. For the first time it wasn’t sexy. It was frightening. She reached for his hand. He calmed a littl
e.

  Isaac took a deep breath as he watched the reactions in front of him. “We need you to take command.”

  “NO!”

  “That is not an acceptable answer.”

  The Marines moved to cover the doors. This reaction had not been unexpected.

  Isaac paused and started again, “Wren, when you took off with Tracker after your eighteenth birthday, we had a good idea where you were going and what you were doing. We knew we could not stop you. However, we did not expect you to succeed. You have succeeded and we are proud of you. In fact, Tracker is listening now. He is as much a part of this as you are and has as much a right to know as you do.”

  “Hey, Tracker, can you help me out here? How about dropping in an avatar?” Within seconds, Tracker’s Buffalo Bill avatar appeared next to Kim and he put his arm around her.

  “Hands off my lady,” Wren growled.

  Tracker withdrew his arm.

  “Now, Elizabeth, I want an avatar from you as well.” A woman of regal bearing holding a scepter that matched her jewel encrusted crown wearing a long flowing gown appeared at Isaac’s side. “Feel better, Wren?”

  “Yes, I do, but the answer is still ‘No’. Look, Kim and I have just spent what has been the most wonderful six months of my life. I love her and she loves me. I want to spend the rest of my life with her and I don’t want to do it in command of a thrown together collection of surplus military hardware. I want to get married and have a family. I do not want to be at war.”

  Rachel put out her hand to stop her husband’s next comment. “Wren, I know this is a shock. We want you to get married tomorrow and to have a peaceful honeymoon on the surface of the planet below us with the privacy you deserve. What you said about surplus hardware is wrong. You saw the P I ships being delivered adjacent to where you are docked. Those are your ships. The freighter at the end of the row is your flagship. These are your flight crews.”

  She waved her hand to one side of the room and thirty two young men and women stood. As Wren scanned them he recognized several of his cousins and second cousins among the flight crews.

  “Your maintenance and support crews.” She waved her hand and another two dozen young men and women stood. More relatives and members of the Abrams family were sprinkled among them.