“Dean helped.”
Sue’s son beamed at the complement.
“When are you going to send them out?”
“Fairstar’s here. Captain Adam had agreed to hook um up and deliver them.
“Ya, I know him. Wants to be paid, I bet.”
“You know him. Chandler, Mr. Gregor’s man, said to pay the pirate his credits. So, once we get those seven platforms finished and tied to Fairstar, he’s on his way. Was going to be sixteen.”
“Ya, well. Junior Weiskoff wants his toys. How we doing with his plating?”
”He didn’t get too damaged. Hull should be fine. Won’t know about Odin’s innards until we get her here. Run some diagnostics.”
“I’ll handle that. You just keep whipping our crew, getting those X-cannons out. Have we lined up ships to get them?”
“Ya, Doc. We have about fifteen fast movers. Not armoured or shielded. If they get hit, they’ll go up like candles. But their captains want the guns, some way to fight back.”
“Ya. Outlanders and Freeholders are tough. For sure. I’ll install the first one. In fact, send out only six platforms. Hold one X-cannon back. I want to get it on a ship and test it.”
“I know just the ship, Doc. Mariella, out of Latinia. I think Dean knows the captain’s son, Carl.”
“Yup. Good egg.”
“Let me know when she docks.”
“Will do.”
Ya, good. Back to it, Fergy.”
“On it, Doc.”
Mack’s father watched his chief production manager head back to work while he continued to design, organize and worry about his son.
Shar’s Bar
If someone had recorded a video of Shar’s bar a month ago, the playback would mirror her bar today. The four Tolimar power brokers sat in their chairs at the table. Across from them sat the three members of the Gregorian team. Lawrence and Shar leaned on the bar, watching the going-ons. Tommy and Willy manned their places, barkeep and cook.
Governor and board chairman Kaufman stared down the table at Vice-Admiral Weiskoff. “We’re doing our part, Admiral Weiskoff. Kevin has his smelter rolling out your munitions. We’re warehousing your supplies and foodstuffs. Now, have you decided about helping us protect our systems?”
“I still haven’t decided. But, my people, based upon your current gaggle of ships, are beginning to create a defense grid.
“No one has seen these plans.”
“I still don’t have Odin repaired. And you haven’t begun loading the supplies and munitions. That is assuming that you are able to build the X-cannons and platforms. I still haven’t seen any of those. When are you going to get started?”
Standing and watching, Gregor saw that the Vice-Admiral and the Tolimars had dug in their heels, trying to pressure the other to flinch first.
“About that,” Gregor interrupted. “We’ve been talking.” Gregor waved his arm, indicating the Tolimar board. We need some assurances.”
“Assurances.”
“Yes. More specifically, Letters of Marquee.”
“Letters of Marquee.”
“Yes. In Old Earth, when the European continent was first settling the American continent, various countries were at war. England gave the seafaring raiders Letters of Marquee, granting them amnesty in exchange for raiding all non-English ships. Specifically Spanish ships.”
“I know my history, Gregor. I don’t need a lecture from you. You want me to give you amnesty and legalize your pirating.”
“All of us, Vice-Admiral. You stated, rather strongly, that we were breaking Federacy laws by creating our own militia. We want assurances that we will not be prosecuted when the war is over.”
“That’s absurd. Besides, I don’t have the authority.”
“Actually you do. You said it yourself. We are in a state of war. And, we are isolated. That puts the highest ranking Federacy officer in charge. That’s you. Under martial law, you are also the governing officer. So, you do have the authority.”
Governor Kaufman may always need the spotlight, but he also knew when to let others fight his battles. He, and the rest of the board, watched the exchange between two very powerful men.
“Is that why you are withholding my resupply?”
“It’s just timing, Vice-Admiral. We will begin loading. Just agree to the Letters of Marquee.”
Thinking he had time, Weiskoff responded, “Oh, alright. I agree.”
“Excellent!” Turning to his chief of staff, Gregor asked, “Mr. Miller, will you please present Vice-Admiral Weiskoff with the document?”
Sean picked up a previously prepared tablet and shoved it down the table, measuring the push just right so that it stopped in front of Weiskoff. The Vice-Admiral began reading. Everyone waited.
“This is absurd! You want complete amnesty for all infractions and legal violations ever enacted on Tolimar or its people.”
“Yes.”
“And the same for Gregor Corporation, its affiliates and associates.”
“Only those actions which occurred or will occur in the Corrinar, Arium and Tolimar systems. And only those which have not had associated convictions.”
“I’m not going to sign this blackmail.”
“Ok. We’ve got what we need. We’ll just move on without you.”
“Mr. Gregor.”
“Yes, Mz. Brandt?”
“Let’s hold off on any absolute conclusions. I don’t think that is the way to go.”
“I’m listening,” Gregor responded while eyeing Weiskoff.
“Give him his supplies and ammo.” Knowing all about the repair yard but not willing to mention it, the owner of Brandt Minerals continued, “We got what we needed. We can figure out our deployment. Let him play soldier on his own.”
Knowing that, with Weiskoff’s X-cannon plans in hand, they did have what they needed, Gregor bought in.”
“You are again correct, Mz. Brandt. Governor. Load him up? Let him go?”
Everyone at the table, with the exception of Weiskoff, knew what was going on. They knew they had their X-cannon factory. They had a munitions plant, thanks to Weiskoff’s military specifications.”
“Odin would be a great addition to our defenses. But we can manage without him. My vote is to load him up. Send him off.”
“I agree with you, Governor. Do you want a vote?”
“Wait a damn minute!”
“Yes, Vice-Admiral Weiskoff?” the syrup in Mz. Brandt’s voice bespoke her feigned concern.
“I never said anything about abandoning anything. I’ve got my people on your defense formations, interviewing captains, assessing capabilities. It’s just that, this document, this Letter or Marquee, is just too all encompassing.”
“This is horse-trading, Admiral. What don’t you like about it? Or is it just that you don’t want to put your name to it.”
“It’s not that, Mr. Roth.”
“Then what is it? We’re in a war. Everything is cockeyed. We just want to know that the Federacy will let us be when it’s all over. That’s all. Sign the damn document! We all got stuff to do. You got a ship to fix.”
“I’m signing this under duress.”
“No you are not, Vice-Admiral. You are signing this because you know this is the best way to survive. You can always walk away. Like Kaufman said. We vote. You get your supplies, ammo and walk away. No problem. Make a choice.”
“You can get me the X-cannon?”
“Gregor says ‘yup’. I believe him.”
“Damn it!” Vice-Admiral Weiskoff pulled the stylus from its slot and signed the electronic document. Gregor’s chief-of-staff, who had been hovering all this time, reached over and grabbed the tablet, tapped a few side-bar icons and handed the tablet to his boss.
“Admiral. This document has been duly registered and distributed over the inter-system net. I know that, for now, this only includes Corrinar, Arium and Tolimar. But as soon as communications are re-established, this goes Federacy wide.”
“You got your pound of flesh, Gregor.”
“And now we pay up. Gregor Inc. has a shipyard.”
“What?”
“Not big. But serviceable. We’ve been building your X-cannons.”
“When will they be done?”
“Mrs. Grey, if you would?”
Gregor’s Information Manager worked her own tablet. The monitor usually used for news and sports came to life. Doctor Henry McCauley’s image displayed.
“Vice-Admiral Weiskoff. If you are watching this, then I guess you and Tolimar came to an agreement. Well, we’re holding up our end.”
Weiskoff scowled at Gregor then back at the view screen.
“We’ve got three X-cannons built. Along with their individual fission drives. From your specs we saw that there’s a ten second recharge rate. So we’ve installed a central governor.”
Weiskoff sat forward in his seat.
“You now will be able to fire every three seconds, in rotation. Each gun can go rapid fire for five rounds. Then you’ll need a thirty second cool-down. That gives you fifteen firings in forty-five seconds. A thirty second break then do it all again.”
“Astounding! If I had that, I could have held Dorogon!”
Gregor signaled Mrs. Grey to pause the video. “Maybe. We’ll never know.”
“That’s Hank? The feller I met helping at your new town?”
“They named it ‘Trotzig’.”
“Yup. Sounds like something my boy and your Harriet would think up. Defiant. Good name.”
“Yes, Kevin. Our kids came up with that. I like it. Back to you, Admiral. That’s Hank. Brilliant man. Heads up my science division.”
“We could have used him at headquarters.”
“Not the military type. Wouldn’t have lasted long. Mrs. Grey?”
She continued the video.
“We figured you could place three in the bow, two above the con and two below the bilge. That gives you three-hundred degrees on top and bottom, a one-hundred degree range at the fore. We plan on getting you a stern gun soon. It’s just not ready yet.”
“That will do.”
Without waiting for a command, Mrs. Grey again stopped the video.
“Approve?”
“Very much, so.”
Gregor nodded to his second who checked some boxes and tapped an icon. Then he nodded back at his IT manager. She continued the video.
“About your plating. We don’t have the exact metallic configuration, but we can get close. It’ll hold up. Course, from what I’ve seen from the Intel, nothing will hold up against those alien guns. Once you get Odin here, we can get into to her internals, get those straightened out. We’ve got a good repair crew here. They’ll get the job done.”
Again, Weiskoff scowled at Gregor. “You’ve got a whole shipyard?”
“Yes. And a well-seasoned team to run it.”
“Why doesn’t the Federacy know about this?”
“The Federacy doesn’t need to know everything. Do you want your ship fixed?”
“Yes, of course.”
We’ll fix it. And, per the Letters you just signed, my yard is free and clear. No Federacy backlash.”
“You sneaked this one in on me, Gregor. I won’t forget that.”
“Let’s save our squabble for after the war, shall we?”
“Just get me ready to go, Gregor.”
“Gentlemen, ladies. Are we in agreement? Do we release the location of the shipyard and repair Weiskoff’s ship?”
Gregor nodded for affirmation from his team. The three complied. The Tolimar group also nodded in the affirmative.
“Good. That’s settled. I’m heading up to the shipyards. Get a first-hand report. I will leave you to work out the details. Good afternoon, Gentlemen, Ladies.”
Trotzig
The hot, dry day left Harriet sweaty to the point of wet. With the spine of her, now-common, plaid shirt soaked, rivulets of water running down her forehead and cheeks, she pulled the bandana from her hip pocket and, for the umpteenth time, pulled off her cowboy hat and wiped down her face.
Arriving at her destination, she looked around. Randy saw her before she saw him.
“Looking good, Country.”
Randy’s bare chest glistened from his own sweat as he heaved a concrete tunnel section up and into the dug trench.
“Back at ya, Wrangler. Looks like you’re liking your upgrades.”
“Yup. I would have needed a hoist before Mrs. Grey got me my enhancements back. And, with an unlimited supply of the pharmaceuticals, I can go all day. But I’d rather be wrangling horses than water lines and conduit, any time.”
“Well, speaking of all day, it’s over. Let’s go home.”
“Let’s hit the river first. I need to cool down. That’s one thing we all need to keep an eye on. Overheating.”
“The others. How are they doing?”
“Going crazy. Working like madmen. And women. None of us remembered what enhancement felt like. Certainly not in civilian life. We only used it to break things and kill people. But now we can do some good. Everyone is busting butt.”
“Patty says we’ve hit the hundred thousand mark. She says she found about sixty thousand more to get unbricked and reloaded.”
“Good. How you doing on finding military ranks?”
“I’ll have the command structure rounded out this week. You get your old rank back, by the way. Staff Sergeant. And we found a First Lieutenant.”
“Who?”
“Corry Rosser.”
“Corry? Really? He’s so laid back.”
“Yup. Stepped up. Showed his discharge papers. Academy grad.”
“I’ll be damned. Corry. Never hurt a fly.”
“Training starts next week.”
“Wonderful. Corry’s in charge, then?”
“You get to be bossed around by the local repair mechanic,” Harriet answered with a twinkle.”
“Great. Parade grounds ready?”
“Yup. You get to march and drill to your heart’s content, return to those glorious days of fighting for God and Country.”
“Smart ass. Weapons?”
“Ship coming in first part of next week.”
“Where’d you get them?”
“Not sure. Apparently Uncle Shelley has some contacts in the military. Had a stash somewhere. Oh, and we have forty-nine pilots.”
“To bad we don’t have fighters to put them in.”
“Father and Uncle Shelley are working on that.”
“Well, I’m ready. Let’s hit the river. And none of that ‘I didn’t bring my suit’ stuff.”
After a long, wet commune with nature and each other, Harriet and Randy slowly re-dressed and held hands as Randy motored the two of them to his small mansion on the Roth ranch.
Ballison
As all intelligent beings which are left alone and isolated are want to do, Igaklay began talking to itself.
“Griffin. The ship housing the mass negator is called ‘Griffin’. Humans. The species calls itself ‘Humans’.
Using its newly connected entangled communicator, it inspected every square micrometer of this alien vessel.
“It is damaged. And now it is trapped in a larger ship. A ship belonging to another species. A ship which has enclosed Griffin in complete darkness. I need these Humans to fly Griffin to me. I don’t want to be alone.”
To that end, Igaklay applied its incredible processing power and huge core of liquid memory to solving this problem. It processed for an entire three seconds. Most of the three seconds ended in logic blocks on how to proceed. Some of the logic paths ended in the seizure of Griffin and the imprisonment of its crew. Other paths lead to destruction and death. The one logic path with the highest probability of success, of having Griffin come to Ballison, required human/Igaklay interaction. And it required that Griffin exit the alien ship.
“It appears that there once was a computer managing the ship. But it has been disconnected. I can not directly in
terface with Griffin’s computer. I will wait and watch. When the time is right, then I shall make contact.”
Chapter 04
Elonian Ship Yards
Mack stood next to Sir Muknai, the manager of the Elonian ship yards. While Muknai had no trouble standing on the slick ice which covered everything, Mack kept sliding around, threatening a pratfall.
“You need claws on those soft feet.”
“Ya, Chief. If wishes were fishes.” Over the week that the two grew to know each other, a friendship began to evolve.
“Your foot covers. Animal skin?”
“We call them ‘boots’. They’re synthetic. Last forever.”
“Why not put claws on your boots?”
“Then I’d slide around on Griffin.”
“Make them retractable.”
“I like that idea. What’ve you got in mind?”
Like so many other Elonians, Muknai extended a single paw and scratched his muzzle to think. “Ice spikes. Like on our vehicles.”
“Not bad. Half inch.” Mack measured the last knuckle on his little finger. “This long.”
More chin scratching. “Maybe put a button on the inside of the boot. Click them together. Spikes protrude. Click again, retract.”
“Cool. When do we start?”
“Cool?”
“Oops. Slang. Our planet is much warmer than Elonia. Sometimes it gets so hot that it’s uncomfortable.”
“Sometimes, during summer, that happens here. It gets to twelve faz above zero.”
Doing the conversion in his head, “Ya. Fifteen above, Celsius. Real balmy. So, getting cool is a good thing. Making the fixes to me boots. A good thing. Cool.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll put a design together. Can we get them for my crewmates, as well?”
“I can’t see why not.”
“On to bigger and better things. Griffin.”
“See that platform?” The Elonian manager pointed a paw at a platform large enough to hold a smallish ship. “We’ll put your ship there. It’s out of the way. But close to our repair machinery.”
“Ya. I see it. You want Buster to bring her in?”
“Buster. The synthetic with battle algorithms. He’s scary.”
Meeting in the Stars (Marston Chronicles Book 3) Page 7
