Hero at Large (The Hunter Legacy Book 1)

by Timothy Ellis

  I gently swung the ship around in the general direction of the station. But I wasn’t going there.

  “Gladiator five nine to Sydney shipyard.” There was a long pause.

  “Sydney shipyard to Gladiator five nine, state your intensions.”

  “Gladiator five nine to Sydney shipyard, I have a damaged ship with four more damaged ships in tow. Request docking of all five ships pending adjudication. If adjudicated to me, I’ll need to discuss repair or disposal with you.”

  “Sydney shipyard to Gladiator five nine, approval granted. Come to a stop two thousand meters off the shipyard and we will take your tows from you and bed them down. See you soon.”

  I pushed the throttle up slowly, testing to see if the tows could stand the load. They did. Once I was near the shipyard, I stopped and listened to instructions to turn off each sled as the four ships were taken over by small tugs. Finally I was given a landing bay and I carefully made my way in, lowered the landing struts and gently touched down. While I waited for the bay to be sealed and aired up I removed the harness, went on to suit air only, and stood up. I made my way back into the small living space and popped the hatch. That didn’t matter, because the ship was already without air. I stood inside the entryway, connected the suit into the nearest air feed and waited. After a short time, the hatch opened and a set of stairs trundled in. Behind it was a group of people who looked familiar. The stairs slid into place, I cancelled the connection to ship air and stepped out on the top step. There was a shriek from below and I realized I was still looking like a corpse. With a big grin, I changed into the slinky black outfit, and with a sigh of relief breathed in a large breath of very cold air. I started down the stairs and sure enough, the gang was waiting for me. I was three steps from the bottom when I tripped and fell the rest of the way. This time though, four strong women caught me and stood me up on the ground.

  I looked at them. They looked at me. Then we group hugged with me in the middle.

  Twelve

  I left the cold of the hanger area and my escorts assumed diamond formation around me, all of us dressed identically. We headed for the shipyard main office. I had pulled up a plan of the place, and then instead, activated navigation. An arrow on my visual display was showing me the way. After a bit of a hike, we eventually arrived at the right door. It opened ahead of us, and a rotund man stepped out with his hand extended. I took it.

  “Welcome Mr. Hunter, welcome. I’m glad to see you came through that nastiness in one piece. Come in, take the load off.” We did and we did.

  “Can I offer you something?”

  “Water thanks.” The others declined.

  “Coming right up.” Almost immediately, a tray appeared in a wall slot with a bottle of water. Alison passed it across. I took a long swig, paused then another.

  “Mr. Hunter,” he started.

  “Call me Jon,” I interrupted. “Mr. Hunter is my father.”

  “Jon, Bob. Bob Derr. Lord and master of all you survey here, owner, designer, mechanic and general dogsbody. Lord high Pooh-Bah, if you will”. The others looked blank at the reference, but I smiled, having actually seen enough Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera to recognize a reference to The Mikado originating out of the 1800’s sometime. We didn’t bother to elaborate for anyone.

  “So young Jon, what would you like done with these somewhat broken ships you have brought me?”

  “Nothing for now. Four of them need to be adjudicated first. The one I was flying you can leave as it is for now, I’m not sure I want to keep it. I honestly do not understand why anyone flies a Gladiator."

  Bob laughed. “Yes, you are probably right at that. Basically, it’s the cheapest of the long range fighters available in these parts. It is the easiest to land anywhere since it doesn’t have anything sticking out, and it’s a good solid ship. But as you said, it would not be a real pilot’s first choice. That being said, it's still the most common long range fighter in this end of space. The Talon is probably the most common short range fighter, much used by local militias, although it is technically a medium fighter where the Gladiator is a heavy.”

  “Can you email me some alternatives? It's looking like I'll need a ship I can defend myself with, and the Gladiator just isn’t up to what I need. Do you do modifications here? What about custom builds?”

  “I will certainly send you some alternatives. Assuming those ships become yours legally, and I see no reason why not, I’m happy to give each of them a trade-in value on a new ship. Actually, likely I will owe you if you trade-in all five. From a casual look, they seem to be in reasonable shape, except for cockpits and one engine. Yes, I do modifications, but only if I think they improve the ship. You have no idea what people want done to ships. If carried out, most would probably kill them quickly. And yes, I do build custom ships, although that tends to be the expensive way of doing things. As long as there's a basic spec to base the ship on, like an existing hull, almost anything's possible. In fact, I’m always on the lookout for a new class of ship that fills a hole in the market. In such things, I’ll collaborate with the design, and market the new ship. If that interests you young Jon, let me know.”

  “I will. Um, I don’t know if anyone told you, but there was supposed to be a nuke on one of those ships. So be a bit careful until you know one way or the other.”

  “We certainly will. Don’t need one of those going off unexpectedly.” He chuckled. “You did a good job with the cleanup, but I’ve got a salvage ship out cleaning up what you missed. If you're interested, I’ll show you a few things about salvage, allowing you to completely clean a battle area. While a lot of it's useless, there can be some useful saleable things recovered, and you save some idiot running without shields doing damage running over hull fragments they were not expecting. Mind you that does do me out of some potential business, but I’m a public spirited sort of person.”

  “Thanks, I'll take you up on that. Will you store any remaining ordinance on those ships, assuming I get them. I’ll need missiles, whatever I fly.” He nodded. “For now though, I need to be getting back to the station, some food and a nice long nap.”

  We said our goodbyes and followed nav to the shuttle bay. It turned out to be a station shuttle with a marine pilot. On the way back to the station, the events of the morning came crashing down on me and I felt bone tired. I slumped in the seat and dozed for a bit. A jolt while docking brought me back to full attention and we filed out of the shuttle into the dock area. A huge crowd waited there clapping and cheering. I went bright red. Note to self, I need to find the override for that too.

  “Mr. Hunter. Over here if you would, please.” The General appeared to be on a small podium on one side of the dock area. He beckoned me over, so I dutifully obliged. My escort took covering positions around us.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Jon Hunter, defender of the station!” The crowd went wild. My light red colouring turned a darker shade.

  After giving the crowd a bit of time to show their appreciation, the General regained control.

  “Jon, there is good news and bad news.” I groaned quietly, expecting it was really bad news and more bad news.

  “Firstly, the bad news from your perspective is that in light of your outstanding display of combat-flying this morning, the Australian Sector Military Command has, effective immediately, commissioned you into the ranks of the sector military forces with the rank of Pilot Officer. Congratulations Pilot Officer Hunter.” The crowd cheered. Since I wasn’t wearing anything suitable to pin anything to, the suit not actually allowing anything to pin to it, he handed me two badges, which in some military forces would have signified a lieutenant junior grade. Then he handed me two more.

  “The first of the good news is I can confirm that with your four kills this morning and the first one last week, you are officially an Ace.” The crowd cheered again, while I looked at the two badges shaped like the ace of clubs in my hand. I did not know they issued badges for that. I knew five kills was t
raditionally an ace, but I’d never heard of it being declared publically.

  “The Sydney system is also awarding you the Meritorious Service medal for your defense of the station today. Congratulations.” More cheering. He went to pin the medal to my chest, stopped himself and handed it to me. He put his hand out and we shook. “Please say a few words for the crowds,” he added quietly so only I could hear.

  I stepped forward and faced the crowd. “Thank you for your reception today. And for the good luck messages I got on my way out, which were most appreciated. I did what had to be done for the sake of the station, and I wish it hadn’t been necessary at all. Thank you.” I stepped back.

  The General initiated another cheer and then requested the crowd disperse about their business.

  “Can you meet me in my office tomorrow morning at oh nine hundred please. We will go over what your commission entails. And don’t worry. We are not going to turn you into a normal soldier. That would be a waste. For now, take the rest of the day to relax.” He patted me on the shoulder and headed off. I stood there looking dumbfounded.

  Damn, I’d been drafted.

  I turned to my protection detail. “Ladies, diamond formation please, it’s time to strut.” Amanda caught on immediately and grinned. I pulled up my medical monitor, upped the pain control to maximum, and the throbbing down my left side lessened to a dull ache.

  We headed off towards the hotel, BA in the lead, a twin on each side of me, and Alison bringing up the rear. We strode along in formation in a good fast stride. People clapped as we went past. We were about half way back when we passed a computer store with a pad I hadn’t seen before in the window. I broke formation without warning, slid behind Aleesha and ducked in the door. Ten minutes later I was out again carrying a parcel. The store had given me an over generous discount and I’d countered by giving them back half that as a tip. We were both happy. My escort didn’t look happy, but we resumed formation and continued on to the hotel. At the front door, the manager was waiting.

  “Welcome back Mr. Hunter. I have taken the liberty of sending a chef to your suite and she will have dinner for you whenever you would like. We hope you will enjoy this as a small token of appreciation from the hotel.”

  I thanked him and we proceeded on to the suite. BA insisted on going in first. There was a pause, and “Clear” echoed out the door to us. We filed in, and I immediately sank into the nearest easy chair. I could see a small parcel on the desk.

  Reluctantly, I dialed down the pain control, and the ache once more became a throb. As much as I wanted to leave it on full, I knew that doing so only invited further injury. As long as I could feel it, I wasn’t going to strain myself further. I changed the suit back to a belt. Old as they were, I felt more comfortable in my jeans, t-shirt and denim jacket.

  I looked around for the others. BA was already gone. Something niggled at me, at the corner of memory, as if I should know something obvious, but was completely missing it. I idly wondered if somewhere there was the proverbial penny in the air, spinning silently, just waiting for the right connection to drop it.

  “I’m off,” said Alison.

  “Can you get George to drop by when he has some time? It looks like I’m going to need to develop my own suit wardrobe. As much as I like your outfit, it is not really me, or at least, it needs tweaking. I also have these things to add somehow.” I indicated the badges still in my hand, which I tossed onto the desk. Three landed and stayed, one bounced off, the medal landed with a loud clunk.

  Alison changed back into the outfit I’d first seen her in. “Will do, should be seeing him soon. I’m glad you’re ok.” She pecked me on the cheek, and departed.

  “You scared the hell out of us!” yelled Amanda.

  “What did I do?” I acted the innocent, although I had a pretty good idea.

  “Waiting for those first three missiles to actually hit you before attacking, for a start. We thought you were gone when we saw the front of your ship explode.”

  “Calculated risk,” I said. “I knew they would attempt to do that, and I had to play dumb and let them. It wasn’t that big a risk as long as the third missile didn’t hit the cockpit area. And it didn’t, it took out the cargo bay doors and killed their own men. Ironically, what won the battle for me was when the front view screen finally disintegrated. They thought I’d taken another missile and it was all over. As soon as they slowed down, the missiles I’d pumped out after them caught up and killed them. The last one I had no choice at all with. I played dead, let him see a supposedly dead pilot and let him have it when he slid his grav sleds out, which showed he believed it was all over. Err, sorry about the look, I forgot to change it.”

  “Damned right you'll be sorry!” said Aleesha. She and Amanda did their silent commune routine. “I’m on perimeter, I’ll leave you to it.” She also pecked me on the cheek and quietly left.

  Amanda came over to me, punched me hard on the right shoulder and kissed me full on the lips.

  “You damned fool, don’t you ever do that again.”

  “Which part?” I asked.

  “Any of it,” she replied.

  “No guarantees,” I said. She looked angry for a moment and then her expression softened.

  “What did you go and buy?”

  “A new pad. I used to have one at home until I broke it just before I left and didn’t have enough to buy a new one.”

  “Why do you need a pad?”

  “I prefer flat screen for a lot of things. Text emails, reading books, sorting through menus, that sort of thing. The holographic controls are good, but I prefer to feel it.”

  “You really do like the old way of doing things? How is that? And how do you know so much about really old stuff? Don’t tell me you are a time traveler from the twenty first century who got stranded here.”

  I laughed, thought about my collection of Doctor Who, decided that was really funny and laughed hard.

  “Let’s just say, I had access to one of the best entertainment libraries there is, back home. I still have a lot of it with me. It was loaded in my old PC. I’ve been collecting many things, and when I like something, I tend to collect every series made of it, regardless of when it was made and what media it was made for.”

  “Such as?”

  “Do you recall the names of the first explorer ships that left Earth?” She nodded. “Galactica, Enterprise, Prometheus. Those names came out of the science fiction of the times. The series they came from have all been ported to each new technology and been redone and redone and redone, so that many different versions of them now exist, each designed for the technology of the time, or what fiction writers saw as the extension of technology of the time. I collect that stuff. Well, of the ones I like, anyway. Too many to collect everything.” I didn’t mention why my interest had started, that was too close to a truth we didn’t let on.

  “So what were you watching before you left home?”

  “Doctor Who.” I laughed. “A time travelling alien who kept picking people up from a planet or time and leaving them behind on another planet or different time.” She laughed with me.

  A female head poked around the inner door wearing a chef’s hat. “Might I ask how many there will be for dinner and when you will be requiring it?”

  Amanda went rigid. I could see immediately what was wrong. She hadn’t checked the suite when we came in. Then she realized that BA had.

  “Anyone else back there?” she asked the chef.

  “No, just me.”

  “Hold on while I ask.” She went blank for a moment. “Six for seven.”

  “Thank you. Would you care for a light lunch now?”

  “Yes please,” I said.

  The head disappeared. A whole chef reappeared shortly after with a tray of various pastries and another of desert servings. For the first time I watched as the table materialized in the center of the room, and the food deposited on it. The chef quietly vanished again. Amanda and I helped ourselves. I sat in an easy
chair with a plate resting on the arm and started configuring my new pad between mouthfuls. The first thing I did was link the pad to my emails, and let them download there. Not wanting any sound, I cross-linked the pad’s sound back into my PC, so only I would hear whatever sound came from the pad. I went looking for, and found, an upgrade for the mail program allowing filtering and redirection. I set about making junk filters to remove the main junk I was getting repeatedly. After, I created a series of folders for specific topics. The first was for bank notifications so I had them all easily to hand in one place. I could have done this all on my PC mail program, but a pad was just so much easier for me. Maybe I was some sort of throwback to the twenty first century when pad usage had begun.

  I looked up suddenly. “Six?” I said in Amanda’s direction.

  “The boss is coming.” Ah. I could not see BA doing a dinner party, and I couldn’t figure who else it could be.

  Having completed eating, Amanda headed for the door. “Swapping, back later,” she said as she swept out. Shortly after, Aleesha came in, helped herself to some food and seated herself exactly where Amanda had been. If I hadn’t been able to tell them apart and I hadn’t seen them swap over, I’d not have known they had. I helped myself to some deserts.

  I started through the emails. The Bounty Hunters guild had sent me a profile update notification. I had a look at it and found a bronze Ace of Clubs icon, and my five kills listed. I was still listed as flying a Gladiator, but it was noted as being under repair. They really did keep up to date with members. I took a quick peek at the Traders guild and found the same icon showing, also on the Mercenaries guild. The latter had my rank with the Australian sector militia listed. Oddly, the status of that listing read ‘detached service’, whatever that meant.

  I wasn’t expecting credits from this morning so soon, but there were a few more bounties from last week. Enough that under normal circumstances, it would be plenty to live on for a while, and indicative that the life of a bounty hunter could bring in a decent living, assuming one stayed alive.