As soon as Guns paused, Jimmy piped up. “In truth, Mr. Peters, this wine should be priceless—and when word gets out it’ll bring top dollar since it’s so hard to get.”
“Gentlemen, I consider myself a good man, and it would be reprehensible to let loose something like this on Earth,” Peters replied. The disgust on his face made it obvious that he would be no help.
Short Blade was angry that his crew had interfered. He felt certain that a more subtle approach would have worked. Then his ear began to vibrate with an incoming message.
“Captain Short Blade, please give Mr. Peters a bottle of the wine and let him know it’s for Wolfgang Bauer. I want it chilled, as I have a special lunch planned today.”
“Yes, Mr. Bauer. That won’t be a problem,” Short Blade replied.
Turning back to the procurement officer, Short Blade said, “Mr. Peters, if you could wait one moment, we’ll get a bottle for you to deliver to Wolfgang Bauer. He wants it chilled for his lunch today.” He made it a point to sound neutral, not wanting to alienate the man or humiliate him in any way.
Jimmy had already opened one of the boxes and pulled out a bottle. Handing it to the officer, he said with a straight face, “Here you go, Mr. Peters. One bottle of Dixie’s finest.”
Peters nodded and walked away, obviously unhappy but with his dignity intact.
“Guys,” Short Blade began, “that’s the last time you interrupt me during a negotiation. I was going to use a different approach. One that wasn’t so obvious about the aphrodisiac effect of the wine. That way, he would’ve been able to accept it with a clear conscience. I’m just glad that Bauer was monitoring the transaction. He’s a major playboy from way back. One of the Dart pilots told me last year that Bauer had to relocate to the U.S. to avoid a number of paternity suits in Germany. I’m not sure why I remembered that.”
Straightening his jacket and pulling down the cuffs of his sleeves, he continued. “I’m going to grab lunch with an old friend. Secure the ship, and please stay out of trouble.” He wondered if he was wasting his breath, but he decided to focus on his lunch with Major Paulsen instead of worrying about what they might do while he was gone.
When he arrived at the restaurant, the major had already been seated at a table. “Short Blade, I’m so glad you could make the time to have lunch with me,” she said as she motioned for him to sit down. Her smile made Short Blade feel genuinely happy—something that seemed to be happening a lot less lately. The major had captured his father during the war, and she eventually became the warden of the POW camp on the lunar base. Colonel Blade had been the senior officer among the captives, so they had come to know each other well.
“I couldn’t visit here and not see you, Major. How are you?”
“I want you to call me Patricia. I’m fine. The downsizing of the Gray Panthers luckily had no effect on my position. We even still get an occasional new body at the camp.”
“Like the lieutenant that greeted us?”
“He’s a good boy. His dad was one of the shuttle pilots we lost during the war, so they decided they would hire him. But he has a chip on his shoulder, and he doesn’t like anyone who isn’t human.”
“Such a shame. Have you had any other changes?”
“They’re moving as much of the Gray Panthers operations, both military and corporate, as they can from Earth up here. They’re expecting trouble since the war’s over. The governments are going to try and take what they can from us.”
“But the Gray Panthers saved the planet. And you’re providing them with free electricity, jobs, and education. What’s the problem?”
“Oh, the Gray Panthers are evil, since they’re successful,” she said in a mocking tone. “They need to be taxed and controlled. There’s even talk up here of shutting down the power stations just to make a point.”
“Enough politics already. It’s just as bad in my home world. I always wanted to ask you, how did you get along with my father when he was your prisoner here?”
“The colonel is a man of honor. He did the best he could for his troops while they were here. It was his attitude that led us to trust the Jacka and consider them our allies. I believe we did the right thing. What are you doing these days?”
Short Blade was gladdened by this new insight into his father. Even his enemies respected and admired him. “I have a shuttle and make runs between different planets. Since I fought in the Gray Panthers, I have access to Dixie and Earth. Since I’m a Jacka, I have access to my own home world. My shuttle is small enough not to intimidate anyone while still being powerful enough to keep the undesirables away. I also have a ranch back home. Selling milk on my world yields good profit.”
“I’m happy for you, Short Blade. Many seemed to lose their way when they left the Gray Panthers. You will do your father proud, I believe.”
As Short Blade was thanking her, his ear began to vibrate.
“This is Short Blade.”
“Captain Short Blade, I’ve been authorized to offer you seventy-five hundred per bottle,” Peters told him. Short Blade fought the urge to accept the first offer.
“Thank you, Mr. Peters. I thought I was being most generous when I made the wine available at the low price of eight thousand a bottle. I’m sorry you’re not interested in buying it at my price.”
“You have a deal, Captain Short Blade. Wolfgang Bauer is very happy with the wine and has authorized me to purchase your entire shipment.”
“Mr. Peters, if you could have a representative meet me with the payment in gold at my shuttle, we can get the cargo offloaded.”
“Would you be able to take electronic payment, Captain?”
“I do business with many species, Mr. Peters. The way of the galaxy is cash up front.”
“It will take a little while to get eight million in gold.”
“Why is that, Mr. Peters? The Gray Panthers’ gold deposits are here on the moon. I know that because Dan Daniels allowed me to retain my full security and data access.”
“I can have the gold delivered to your shuttle by 1500, Captain Short Blade.”
“That’ll be fine, Mr. Peters. You can pick up the wine at the same time.”
After he left Major Paulsen, Short Blade decided how he was going to celebrate his latest deal. He’d head for Earth after he got paid and purchase a hundred more Holsteins, along with supplies for his budding army.
“Comm, Guns.” It felt a little weird having to coordinate things with someone else, after so many months of being solo.
“Guns here.”
“Be back at the shuttle at 1500. We sold the cargo. As soon as it has been offloaded, we’ll depart for Kansas City, where we’re going to buy a hundred cows. We’ll spend the night and leave first thing in the morning for the home world. Pass that on to Jimmy, please. Short Blade, out.”
The thought of spending the night in Kansas City, eating and partying with a wad of money, cheered the two men up as they headed for the shuttle. Meanwhile, Short Blade was conversing with the ship’s AI.
“Phoenix, what’s the current Earth rate for gold per ounce, and what will I be paid for the wine?”
“The current exchange rate is 10,000 U.S. dollars per ounce. You will receive 800 ounces of gold, which equals fifty pounds.”
Short Blade thought about what a nice round number he would receive. He told himself that he was lucky his crew had been there to raise the price. He should rely on them more often.
At 1450, Peters showed up with the gold and three grav trucks to pick up the wine. He showed neither anger nor pleasure regarding the deal.
“Captain Short Blade, here is your payment. I’ll take the wine now, if that meets with your approval.”
“I thought we were going to weigh the gold outside, without the artificial gravity, Mr. Peters,” Guns said with a straight face.
“I do not have time for levity, Mr., er, Guns. I realize that the gold would weigh 8.3 pounds. Captain, it has been a pleasure doing business with you.” Peters
waited in his vehicle for the last bottle to be transferred and then followed the grav trucks.
“Phoenix, is there any market price yet for the wine we delivered?” Short Blade asked. He had a hunch it might all be sold already.
“Sir, there’s no mention of wine. There is, however, a new aphrodisiac being offered at one hundred U.S. dollars per ounce.”
“We made our profit,” Short Blade said to Guns and Jimmy. “We knew he would make his as well. Let’s go to Kansas City and celebrate. Jimmy, I want you to take us there. This time you can use the AI.”
Turning to Guns, he said, “When we get to Kansas City I want you to secure one hundred Holsteins. Be sure to get a vet to examine each animal. I trust you’ll do a good job haggling. We’ll load the cows in the morning and be on our way. The two of you can stay on the Phoenix tonight or find a hotel. You’ve both done well today.”
He listened as Jimmy ordered Phoenix to coordinate their departure and fly the mission to Earth. It went as he expected. With time, he would train his old comrades to be as proficient as he was.
The cruiser Vengeance, en route to Libra Fleet Depot 62
17 April 2129
Harve was reviewing the assets that would be available at the fleet depot, provided it was still intact. The depot was a small one in a backwater area of the old Libra Alliance. The main supplies would be consumables—in particular, transfer gel. The inventory also showed an abundance of slap-on armor used to repair battle damage until ships can dock for permanent repairs.
Orders sounded over the speaker system. “All hands, prepare to drop to normal space. Man all battle stations.”
Harve surveyed the activity in the engine room and was relieved to see that all personnel were at their posts. He would soon have a good team.
The ship shook as it came out of FTL space. An unidentified ship had fired a volley of missiles at the Vengeance and the flotilla before jumping to FTL space.
“All departments, report damage.” The captain was unhappy that he hadn’t been able to return fire before the enemy escaped. His mood improved, though, when he learned there was no damage from the missile hit, since the hull was adequately polarized.
“MO Harve, report to the bay with a team of four, immediately.”
Harve pointed to two Jacka and two Libra to accompany him to the bay. The captain and four heavily armed marines were waiting for him when he arrived, which made him break out in a sweat.
“MO Harve,” the captain began, “take two shuttles to the depot. You’ll have four marines under your command and the four sailors you’ve already chosen. If you find there are enough resources, I’ll have the other ships send down additional teams to clear out the depot.”
Harve watched as the marines gave side arms to the Jacka sailors. He started to object as the Jacka passed the weapons on to the Libra sailors and then held out their paws for weapons of their own, but the captain spoke before he could say anything.
“Harve, I’m glad to see that your sailors have such trust in each other. That type of trust usually takes time.” He held out a Libra side arm and holster for Harve to take. “When the mission is over, be sure to take care of your weapon. Good luck.”
The whine of the shuttle’s engines made any further communication impossible, so Harve pointed to indicate to his sailors which shuttles they should go to. To Harve’s surprise, the marines stood and waited for their instructions, so he pointed them to their shuttles as well. He boarded the second shuttle and the pilot closed the hatch.
The shuttle’s inertial dampeners made it possible for Harve to move around as they traveled, so he made his way to the cockpit. He was surprised to see a Jacka pilot and a Libra copilot at the controls.
“Do either of you know anything about the depot we’re heading for?” he asked.
The Libra pilot motioned for the Jacka to take control and turned to face Harve.
“I was there a couple of times. Most of the facility is underground. As you can see, it’s located on a moon with minimal atmosphere. The temperature will be between twenty and forty degrees Fahrenheit, so you’ll be cold until you get inside. There was only a skeleton crew of twenty there at the best of times. There are signs to direct you where to go … the right side of the facility as you enter is where the offices and warehouses are. On the left side are the living quarters. You need to go take your seat now. We’ll go in fast, drop you off, and wait for your signal to return.”
On his way back to the passengers’ cabin, Harve cursed the fact that he hadn’t had any time to prepare before deploying. As he entered the cabin, he did the best he could to provide the teams with a plan of action.
“The shuttles are going to drop us off and then depart. It’ll be cold, so head for the main facility, which is underground. The marines will lead the way and the rest of us will follow close behind. Once we’re inside, the Jacka will provide security. Libra, you try to access the computer network to see if we can tell what inventory exists. You will then be responsible for locating and confirming the inventory.”
As soon as the shuttle landed and the hatch opened, the marines ran as fast as they could toward the main entrance. Harve tried to keep up as the departing shuttles passed overhead, the force of the downdraft nearly knocking him down. I’m too old for this, he thought. The marines waited for Harve and the sailors, and they all entered the facility together. The warmth inside was evident immediately.
“Looks like we have power,” Harve said. “We don’t know if whoever shot at us left anyone behind, so everyone be cautious.”
The warehouse area was huge and the shelves were still stocked. Neither of the Libra sailors could access the computer network, but Harve discovered that there had been no updates to the system and he still had command access because of his prior civilian position.
“We’ve wasted our time here,” he said as he scanned the database.
The majority of the inventory consisted of parts for obsolete patrol ships. Apparently the facility hadn’t been shut down during the war because of administrative inefficiency. The transfer gel, along with all munitions, had been cleared out.
“We found the crew of the depot,” one of the marines told Harve. “They’re in the living quarters.”
As Harve made his way there, the smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils. Entering the main area, he saw three Libra bodies that had been tied to the wall and lit on fire. Ten more bodies were slumped in front of a pockmarked wall, where they had been lined up and executed. The scorch marks on the bodies and wall appeared to have been created by Libra small arms.
“Marine, call in the shuttle,” Harve instructed. “Report that we’ve found nothing of value and are ready to return to the ship.”
“Sir, the shuttle isn’t responding,” the marine informed Harve. “I also tried the Vengeance and got no reply.”
“Damn! Everyone listen to me!” Harve called out. “I don’t know if someone has scared our ships away or if they’re off chasing an enemy. We don’t know how long we’ll be here, so secure the entrances and go through the quarters to look for warm clothing. I have no intention of dying on my first mission.”
The sound of descending shuttles soon interrupted the search efforts. Peering out from the main entrance, Harve could see they were the same type of Libra shuttles that had brought them there, but these but had different squadron markings. Six shuttles landed at roughly the extreme range of the small arms Harve and his teams were carrying. Harve tried to think of what else they could use for weapons, and then it hit him.
“You two sailors, go over to the repair section and find all the fuel cells there you can. Bring them back here, quick!”
The sailors returned a few minutes later with two grav carts loaded with fuel cells that had been sent to the depot for repair. They still contained whatever fuel was in them when they’d been removed from the ships’ engines.
“Open up the feeders on those fuel cells and make sure they’re strapped down on the gra
v cart,” Harve ordered. “Now, shove the grav cart out through the door and let’s see what our friends out there do.”
Two of the marines opened the doors and the Jackas gave the grav cart a push toward the shuttles. The cart proceeded down the tarmac, and Harve and his squad took cover from the enemy small arms fire directed toward the cart and the building.
The cart made it halfway to the shuttles before it erupted into a huge fireball and a black mushroom cloud slowly rose over the area. The marksman lay on the ground, incinerated along with the rest of his team.
The building smelled of fuel and smoke, the exterior scorched from the fire. Harve looked at the remaining grav cart and instructed the sailors to take it back to the corner. The idea of using it as a booby trap at the door had lost all of its appeal.
“I need everyone to tear this place apart and try to find something we can use for weapons. We were lucky we didn’t blow ourselves up with those fuel cells,” he told his teams.
Harve went to the security office and was surprised to see that the monitors were still working. Reviewing the video history, he witnessed the execution of the depot’s staff. He watched as a dozen Fineys in full atmospheric suits tortured some of the depot’s technicians and then opened fire with projectile weapons, killing the rest where they stood.
After leaving the security room, he decided to brave the cold outside and see who was responsible for the latest attack. A marine saw him heading for the exit and joined him, causing Harve to realize there still might be danger. He pulled his weapon from its holster.
The first few bodies were toasted to the point of being unrecognizable. The farther out he went, the less damage there was to the bodies. Soon he could see they had all been Libras. The ones that hadn’t burned to death had died from concussion when the fuel cells exploded. When he got to the shuttles Harve found they were completely empty, which ruled out the possibility that they had come from a distant location. The exteriors were blackened, but otherwise the shuttles didn’t appear to have sustained any serious damage.
Gray Panthers Captain Short Blade Page 7
