“And I agree,” Rose, the youngest of the six humans who occupied the battleship that had once housed thousands, said.
Wren took a deep breath. “This is the closest we’ve ever been to finding out for sure, but I believe I have the answer. My father never got over the murder of my sister in a suicide bombing plot that was intended for him and my mother.”
“Our grandfather, Saul,” Greg said.
“Yes,” Wren replied. “For two decades he plotted his revenge while he worked for Stellar Interstellar Freight. Elizabeth prevented him from carrying out his plans by appealing to his sense of justice. When the Swordsmen attacked, he commanded the third largest military force in the galaxy. The secret force was privately owned and answered to no government. With open hostilities, and access to a huge military, nothing stood in the way of his revenge.”
Kim continued, “When the war started, your father and I had a squadron of sentient Pirate Interdiction warships, a Class Seven cargo ship that had been converted to a tender and carrier for the PI ships and hundreds of people on our crew. We had support from the Federation and Stellar Interstellar Freight which owned the ships we flew as well as the force your grandfather commanded. When the war ended, Elizabeth, Tracker and Huntress were all we had left.”
“When the Swordsmen surrendered, that should have been the end of it,” Wren said.
“It was for a couple of years until a new variant of the neutron bomb became available,” Elizabeth said. “Your grandfather has been methodically eliminating all the remaining Swordsman settlements.”
“Do you think he is coming back to finish the job here?” Greg asked.
“Yes, I do,” Wren answered.
“And he won’t exactly be happy to see us,” Avi said.
“He doesn’t know about you, but seeing Elizabeth even in her current state should set him back,” Wren said.
Kim continued, “Saul is uniquely well aware of Elizabeth’s combat capabilities. Remember, he and his brother, Moses, defeated a Swordsman base with two PI ships, Elizabeth, and a squad of marines. Saul knows what Elizabeth and a pair of PI ships can do.”
“So what do we do now?” Greg asked.
“We hide in the asteroid belt and wait for him to return. Then we let him make the first move.”
“Too late for that,” Elizabeth said. “We have incoming. They are hailing us. They claim to be the Edward R. Murrow. The escort is six Space Weapons Labs Model 21 and a Saturn Industries convoy escort.”
Wren said, “It’s not the Edward R. Murrow. That ship was lost at the battle at New Portland. Saturn Industries Class Seven Freighters are pretty common. Someone could easily have stolen the codes. And that must be the last Saturn Industries convoy escort we have not found. And we have a pretty good idea who commands it. Battle stations. Greg, go to Tracker’s front seat. Peter take Tracker’s fire control. Avi, Huntress’s front seat and Rose, Huntress’s fire control. Shove off as quickly as you can. This is not a drill.”
The four teens sprinted for their cabins and the lockers where their combat flight suits were kept. They had tussled with pirates before and understood the risks.
GENERATIONS - CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“TRACKER ARE ALL SYSTEMS on line?” Greg asked as he vaulted into the pilot seat.
“All systems are combat ready,” Tracker answered.
Greg heard the servos close the shell behind him that encased the fire control position. Peter would report in soon from his gimbals mounted seat at the center of the fire control sphere.
“Avi, how close are you to being ready to launch?” Greg asked.
“Rose is closing now. Less than a minute,” Avi replied.
“All systems locked and loaded,” Peter reported.
“Dad, request permission to launch,” Greg said.
“Permission granted. Execute Plan Orion.”
“Dad? Plan Orion?” Greg protested.
“Plan Orion!”
“Understood.”
Greg punched in a set of coordinates. “Tracker, relay these to Huntress and launch on your mark.”
Tracker counted down, “Three, two, one,” and fired his conventional drive to pull away from the battleship to which they had been attached at the airlocks.
Tracker and Huntress sped away in opposite directions for a rendezvous on the opposite side of the planet. As soon as they were clear of the mother ship, they fired their faster than the speed of light hyper drives and jumped away from the planet. Arriving at points one light second away from the planet level with the planetary plane, at ninety degrees to the position of their parents, they each dropped a communications satellite. They spun back around to the rendezvous point where they coupled the two warships at their airlocks.
“I forget which plan is Orion,” Rose said. “What do we do now?”
“We wait,” Greg said. “Tracker, if we have to fight them, what are our options?”
“It all depends on what happens over there. We can’t take on the convoy escort by ourselves. They were designed by the same people that designed me. Elizabeth with all her fire power would have a tough time against one. If Elizabeth does not survive and the escort does, our only option is to flee.”
“Tracker,” Rose asked. “Have you ever fled?”
“Yes, my dear, Huntress and I have fled in the face of superior forces where we had no advantage. Sometimes escaping with your lives is all the victory you can hope for.”
The communication satellites relayed the conversation between Elizabeth and the ships entering the system as they approached.
The two small warships and their teenage crew waited for one of two calls. The one Greg expected was to launch a counterattack against whoever was attacking their parents. Since no one knew the teens existed, they would have the advantage of surprise. The call he hoped for, but did not expect, was an “all clear” for them to return to the safety of Elizabeth’s vast hangar deck.
Neither call came. After relaying protracted often heated negotiations, the satellites reported a brilliant flash that could only be the detonation of a hyper drive.
“GO!” Greg shouted. “Return to base!”
The two warships jumped directly to hyper drive and returned to the location where they had left their parents. Where they expected to see at least two ships locked in mortal combat, they saw only a rapidly expanding ball of nuclear debris. Six small warships stood off at a safe distance from the wreckage.
Rose screamed when she realized the ship, the only home she had ever known, was gone. The others were too stunned to react.
“We have incoming,” Huntress reported. “One hour to missile range. Targeting radar active.”
“Tracker,” Greg said. “Fight or flight?”
“Fight. Two of us against six of them is not fair odds, but since we do not know what dangers might lie ahead, we should save our missiles for another battle and only use our lasers. That will even the odds a little.”
“Extend weapons pods,” Greg commanded. “Set course to intercept. Fire as soon as you have target lock.”
With the six little ships half an hour away from missile range, the two PI ships opened fire with their lasers. Unlike a missile which has a defined range under guidance, lasers are only limited in their range by the accuracy of the triangulation between their extended weapons pods. Greg used that range advantage and two of the enemy ships were destroyed before they attained missile range. Two more were destroyed within missile range, but before they could fire. The remaining two ships launched a full volley of missiles which Tracker and Huntress dodged easily. They spun around the two remaining ships and as they passed, raked the ships with their lasers. The two enemy ships split open like a can opener had run down their sides. Their reactors detonated and the sky was empty except for two PI ships and four scared teens.
Greg was the first to recover. “We should retrieve our satellites. We may need them again.”
After they had collected the satellites and linked the two sh
ips, Rose asked, “Now what do we do? We have no money. We have no passports and officially we don’t exist.”
“We can go for help or we can attack pirates and steal from them or we can do both,” Greg said with more assurance than he felt.
“Where would we look for help?” Avi asked.
Greg thought before answering. “Plan Orion says we find the nearest Stellar Interstellar Freight depot and hope that they recognize Tracker and Huntress. We can leave a message with the harbor-master and hope that Mom and Dad can pick up our trail.”
“I don’t like that ‘hope’ word,” Peter said.
“Do you have a better plan?” Avi asked.
“What if they’re dead?” Rose asked.
“Plan Orion works in either case,” Greg answered.
“Tracker, how far is the nearest Stellar Interstellar Freight depot?” Avi asked.
“Two weeks travel time,” Tracker replied.
“What if they don’t recognize us?” Rose asked.
“We run and find someplace where we can hunt pirates,” Greg said.
“Then we’d best be going,” Avi said. “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait here?”
“Plan Orion says to leave. Tracker and Huntress, please set course for the nearest freight depot.”
Once they were established in hyper drive and had verified their course, Rose asked, “How much food and fuel do we have?”
Huntress said, “We have six months of food and two years of fuel. As long as the reactors are running you will have water.”
“Thank you.”
In an effort to reassure his siblings, Greg said, “We have to assume Mom and Dad escaped with Elizabeth. Mom and Dad need to know where to look for us and we can’t wait here in hopes that they return. That is what Plan Orion is all about.”
GENERATIONS - CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AFTER TWO WEEKS TRAVELING in the confines of the small warships to the freight depot, the four teens sorely missed the cavernous empty spaces that had been their home on Elizabeth. Tracker and Huntress had reviewed their sensor readings and had concluding that the debris field did not contain enough mass for it to have included Elizabeth. In fact, the evidence pointed to only the cargo ship having been destroyed. There was reason to believe that the cargo ship had been being operated remotely from the convoy escort. Convoy escorts and PI ships were designed with the ability to take control of a freighter in case of a malfunction of the freighter’s systems or a problem with the crew.
The four teens with their two ships dropped out of hyper drive at the edge of the system’s defense net or where the defense net should have been and requested permission to approach the depot. They received no answer. Proceeding in standard drive, they approached the planet upon whose moon the depot was reputed to be.
“Do you think they got destroyed in the war?” Rose asked.
“No,” Huntress replied. “Even though they are near the boundary between Federation and Swordsman space, they were too small to bother with. That’s one of the reasons the depot is here, not to mention the precious metals they mine from the planet and ship out in bulk.”
“So, we should see lots of freight activity,” Greg said. “Still, I don’t understand why they haven’t responded.”
“They could be busy,” Avi surmised.
“They’re hailing us,” Huntress reported. “It’s a digital request. How should I respond?”
“Tell them the truth,” Greg said. “Tell them who you are and that you have four undocumented humans on board. Request an escort and dock assignments. When they ask our business, tell them we have come to seek gainful employment.”
“The escort is on the way. We have dock assignments,” Huntress reported.
Four picket ships drove at full throttle to meet them.
“Four pickets?” Peter sneered. “Is that the best they could send up against us?”
“I assure you that if we attack these almost defenseless little toys, they will throw something heavier at us,” Greg said.
“If they have something heavier,” Rose said.
“If that’s the best they have, we can stay here and join their security service until we make enough money to move on,” Avi offered.
“Excellent plan,” Greg said.
“Unknown vessels, please identify yourselves.”
“We are the Pirate Interdiction ships Tracker and Huntress and four undocumented humans named Greg, Avi, Peter and Rose,” Greg said.
“You sound like a kid.”
“Because we are.”
“What are you doing here in those ships?”
“It’s a long story I will happily relate in the harbor-master's office. We request safe passage to the docks where we might seek gainful employment.”
“Maintain formation and leave your weapons pods folded.”
“Understood.”
“Greg, is this smart?” Rose asked.
“I have no idea.”
The “docks” they had been assigned were spaces marked with paint on the spaceport’s fight apron. Since the moon that hosted the spaceport had no atmosphere, they would have to don their space suits for the walk to the terminal building. Four heavily armed security officers in combat armor waited for them to descend from the ships. Greg saluted the officer who appeared to be in charge and the officer returned the salute.
They walked into the terminal with one officer in front of them and the other three behind. They were taken to an interrogation room and locked in.
“Now what?” Rose asked.
“They’re probably trying to debrief the ships,” Greg said. “They won’t get far with that.”
Ten minutes later the lead officer returned alone. “Follow me.”
They were taken to a conference room where the harbormaster, his deputy and two other older men waited for them.
The harbormaster seated at the end of the table motioned for them to sit. “As you can see, I am busy getting a convoy ready to go and do not have a lot of time to spend on you. Who are you?”
“I am Greg, fifth generation descendant of Greg and Avi Solomon.”
“I am Avi, his sister and fourth generation descendant of Rachel and Isaac Cohen.”
“I am Issac, their brother and third generation descendant of Saul and Fiona Cohen.”
“I am Rose, their sister and the daughter of Kim and Warren Elias Mahoney Solomon Rothschild Cohen.”
“And you have proof of none of this,” the harbormaster said.
“Correct,” Rose answered.
The harbormaster sighed. “Your message said you came in search of gainful employment, but you can’t stay here. We have escaped Swordsman attention since before the war and I intend that to see that it stays that way.”
Greg said, “I understand, sir, but...”
“I have an alternative. I understand that a PI ship can take control of another ship and run it as if the bigger ship functioned normally.”
“That is correct, sir.”
“Fortunately for you, I recognized the battle scars on Tracker and Huntress from seeing them in port with Wren and Kim. I believe you. Where are they and where is the battleship they traveled with?”
“We don’t know, sir. We were separated after our last engagement and we suspect they might have died,” Greg replied.
“Not bloody likely, but they would not have abandoned you kids without a plan.”
“Yes, sir. We have a plan.”
“What does it tell you to do?”
“We are to either seek gainful employment at an outpost like this or to hunt pirates until we steal enough to buy our safety,” Greg said.
“No amount of money will buy your safety, but I can offer you a diversion.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“There’s a Class Five out there with control problems. Latch your ships to it and you can ride it to the next depot where their service center can fix it. You’re on your own from there.”
“Thank you, sir.”
; “I will want tissue samples to send to headquarters to verify your identities.”
“Certainly sir.”
“Do not wander around the terminal. Go directly back to your ships and prepare to depart with the convoy. You leave in two hours.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Does any of you geezers have anything to add?”
The oldest looking man who had silently stared at the four teens intently the whole time said, “You favor them. I remember Greg and Avi when they first arrived at Stellar Headquarters. They were much older than you are now, but you could pass for them. I remember Rachel, Isaac, Wendy and Joshua. Wonderful gracious people. Alas, I did not know Rose. I believe you could be them brought back to us. Please, as you go on your way, remember their legacy and the good work they did. And, if I may suggest, you take their name instead of your own. Greg and Avi Solomon, it will be good to have you back on the front lines as an inspiration to us all.”
The four teens nodded respectfully and left the room following the security officer to the medical center where they gave their samples for DNA analysis.
GENERATIONS - CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“SO TRACKER, WHAT ARE WE LOOKING AT?” Greg asked from the bridge of the Class Five cargo ship.
“This ship is a disaster. I seriously question the harbor-master’s motives for sending us in it.”
“How so?”
“It’s overloaded with partially processed metals. No human could get this ship into orbit without help. I question what they would have done had we not arrived when we did.”
“Is it possible that they loaded it when they learned we were coming with the intent of sending us on a suicide mission?” Greg asked.
“Based on the ship’s logs, that is the only conclusion I can draw,” Tracker answered.
“But why would they load it? They could send it empty and hope we never made it.”
“This way they win however it turns out. If we arrive safely, they make their quota. If not, it’s not their fault a ship was stolen by its crew or suffered some mishap in space.”
“Can we get there safely?” Rose asked.
Solomon Family Warriors II Page 154
