Repel Boarders

by Dean Henegar

  Starting with the garbage room, he bumped the number of rats from two to three pairs and kept the original pit trap placement where it was in the middle of the room. Thinking for a moment, he went ahead and added a small ramp for the rats to climb in and out of the pit. He liked how effective it had proven in the rat-keeper’s room and changed the design to have the ramp included as part of the standard configuration for that type of trap. In the cargo hold, he increased the number of kobolds to four. There were two large cargo containers in there, and that gave each pair of kobolds something to use as cover as well as providing a high point for his rats to leap down from.

  The mess hall had six kobolds, the taskmaster, and the pair of rats in the trashcan. The trap-filled hallway was filled with, well, more traps as he added six of the hidden compartments, complete with bilge rat occupants. The hidden compartments could be triggered if victims were caught in the pit traps or just used as a force to spring forth and attack enemies from the rear at an opportune time.

  The rat-keeper’s room he left as it was; there wasn’t really room for more rats, and the whole place had done very well against the defilers. The next room in the derelict had one of the new compartments installed in it. This one he had set up to look like the inner working of a ship’s engineering hold. There were lots of pipes and consoles obstructing the view in the compartment, along with grease stains and the occasional burst of steam from a pipe, adding to the ambiance. He placed four kobolds and a taskmaster inside to defend the place.

  The next room was also a new chamber. Set up as a firing range, the room had targets against the wall where explorers would enter. At the other end of the room, near the exit, Slater constructed two small bunkers. Each would provide protection for the kobold shooters as they engaged any hostiles entering the compartment. Inside the chamber, he placed six kobolds and a taskmaster to lead them.

  The next room was the barracks. He kept the setup the same: six kobolds led by a taskmaster. The bridge also remained the same, save for bumping up the number of kobolds to six. Slater filled the core room as much as he dared with defenders. Eight rats now scurried about the place, making the derelict core very happy that his MOBS didn’t have normal bodily functions.

  With all the changes in place, he was using up all ninety of his core power. Slater was at the limit of what he could control, so if he decided to add additional compartments to the derelict, he would need to start rethinking the number of MOBS assigned to each. Paranoid after the admiral’s attack and wanting to maximize his defenses, he scrapped two pairs of rats in the core room and added an extra pair of kobolds to the shooting range compartment.

  He was as ready as he could be. All that remained was to wait for the boarding party and see who they really were and what their intentions might be.

  — 17 —

  Warning: Unknown vessel approaching.

  Slater pulled himself away from the engineering console. He had been working on a speech module so he could more easily communicate with the team coming aboard. Like the shackles on his MOBS, he had to work around the council’s limitations on communication. Thankfully he was well-versed in comm tech and had no trouble developing a text-to-talk function and fine-tuning the nanobots to transmit voice. The workaround was easy enough; the challenge was in making his voice sound normal and not like a computer. The results were marginal, and while he sounded more human than machine, it was still not even close to his old voice. There was no time for further tweaks, though; what he hoped were humans were approaching.

  The vessel heading toward his derelict was identifiable as a ship’s boat, the small vessels used to transport personnel back and forth between ships or orbital stations. This one had a much sleeker design than the boat that had taken him to the Franklin so long ago, but it was recognizable as a human design. A small point-defense turret was mounted on top of the boat, the muzzle of which was currently tracking his derelict. The small weapon had no chance at penetrating his hull, but the approaching ship didn’t seem to realize that.

  “Havock to Slater, our ship’s boat is approaching. Keep all weapons and shields offline and allow free access to your boarding hatch.”

  The boarding hatch was always accessible from what he understood based on his conversations with Pixi, but who knew if the parasite was telling the truth? Slater figured he better warn the approaching boat about his MOBS. His MOBS were set to neutral. Leveling up to level 5 had given him greater control over his MOBS than he had enjoyed before. Unless the folks boarding him assaulted a MOBS, they would be ignored. Before he had done this, Slater confirmed the MOBS could be switched back to hostile if needed. There was also the option to designate specific visitors as friendlies, allowing him to turn the MOBS on hostile and still not have them attack designated individuals.

  “Acknowledged, Havock. Please be advised that, as I mentioned in the data packet, there are defenders on my vessel that will not harm your team as long as they are not attacked. You will also find several traps set throughout the ship. They have also been set to safe unless your boarders turn hostile.”

  Slater checked on his research as the ship began the final docking procedure. The upgrades to his kobolds, biotech implants, and ship propulsion were nearly complete. The level 3 construction drones were taking a long time, confirming that research got progressively harder as the level increased.

  With a clang, the boat connected, and the hatch began turning. Instead of a human visitor jumping down, two drones shaped like dinner plates dropped into the entry compartment. The drones hovered for a moment before moving about the entire compartment, looking like miniature flying saucers. Slater could feel their scanners hit his nanobot-infused passageways. The results reminded him of a faint tickle. Their scanning complete, the flying drones positioned themselves near the hatchway leading to the garbage compartment.

  A second pair of objects dropped, and two spider-like drones unfolded themselves, moved forward a few yards, and stopped. The barrel of a weapon extended from the drones and began tracking for any hostile activity. The combat bots—which he thought of the devices as—were larger than his construction drones, the bodies elongating at the top to accommodate the weapons turret. It was a design he would love to have access to.

  After the bots confirmed no dangers were present, the first three humans dropped down. Two of the humans wore full combat gear, including heavy armor, extra ammo pouches, several varieties of grenades, and a mean-looking assault rifle. The third human of the trio wore even heavier armor and had a huge metallic box strapped on his back. He wielded a large machine-gun weapon that Slater was unfamiliar with. The three moved forward and then waved on some others.

  The next human to drop down was the smallest of the bunch. She wore only a protective spacesuit with a ballistic vest. She had a sidearm but didn’t have it drawn like the others. Whereas the heavily armed members of the party were focused on potential threats, she appeared fascinated by the derelict itself. Slater figured her for a technician of some type as she pulled out various scanners and instruments from her pack to examine his hull. A final figure dropped down, and the hatch clanged shut. The last human was another soldier. This one had an air of command that Slater recognized immediately. He wore a lieutenant’s rank tab where two of the others were privates and the big gun-carrying man was a sergeant.

  “We’re in. No hostile contact. Preparing to breach the next compartment,” the lieutenant said into a throat mic, contacting someone either on the ship’s boat or the Havock itself. Slater figured now was a good time to initiate contact.

  “Welcome aboard the Franklin, Lieutenant. Thank you for coming over,” Slater said. The group looked around, confused and ready for an attack. He had screwed up, setting the voice to emanate from the entire ship. Slater quickly isolated a spot near the hatch leading to the garbage room and tried again. “Sorry about that. I had my speech settings all wrong. I am, or was, Captain Slater of the USS Franklin, and it’s very good to see another human face.�
� It looked like his settings were now correct, as the entire group turned toward the hatch where his voice now emanated from.

  “We’re aware of your claims and are here to confirm you are what you say you are and that you’re not hostile to humanity,” the lieutenant said in a cold and professional manner. “Allow us to conduct our reconnaissance of your vessel without interruption, and if you check out, I’ve been authorized to speak with you further.”

  Slater would accept their terms . . . for now. “Very well. All the hatches are unlocked, and as long as you don’t harm my MOBS, I’ll let you do your work,” he replied. He was a bit nervous about letting them rummage about, but he had no choice but to trust them or fight. He really didn’t want to—and might not even be able to bring himself to—fight his own navy.

  “Fascinating. What exactly is a mob?” the technician asked.

  “No talking, Doctor, at least until we finish our sweep,” the lieutenant replied sharply.

  “Fine, Lieutenant Camden. I was just curious,” the doctor said.

  “Doctor, no names, either,” Camden advised.

  “That was a reasonable question, Doctor, and it is MOBS, not mob. The name stands for mobile offensive battle system,” Slater replied.

  The doctor looked like she was going to say something, but a stern look from Lieutenant Camden shut her up. The two privates opened the next hatch—Slater had set them to easy mode as a friendly gesture. The sergeant with the heavy weapon entered the garbage room after the drones had conducted a cursory search.

  “Contact! I got some unknown biologicals hiding in the garbage,” the sergeant with the heavy weapon said as the drones moved to cover the spot where some of Slater’s rats were placed. Slater could see the soldier’s stress levels increase as they pointed their weapons at four of his hidden bilge rats . . . they still hadn’t spotted two of them.

  “Don’t fire! I’ll have my MOBS reveal themselves. They look like overgrown bilge rats, but they are constructed creatures and are part of my defenses. This should have all been disclosed in the information sent over earlier,” Slater told the group as the rats stood up from their hiding places. The two they missed caused a bit of a scare for the group and an angry look from the lieutenant toward the sergeant who had missed them.

  “Check your fire. We knew about the rats and kobolds. Don’t fire unless we’re attacked,” the lieutenant commanded. The group then began the long trek toward his core room. Slater was feeling anxious. He was betting his very existence on these humans being friendly and potential allies. He resisted the urge to activate his defenses and protect his core. If there was ever a time in his new life to take a risk, this was it. Slater still saw himself as a human captain serving in the navy, and he would act like it, even if it meant his death. Was his new life even worth living if he no longer had human contact?

  The humans finally made it to the core room and stood there, looking dumbfounded by his actual core. If he was reading the expressions on their faces right, they were also grossed out a bit by the swarm of bilge rats placed there to defend him. The doctor began using her scanner to do all sorts of tests, then pulled more devices out to conduct even more examinations. Some of the scans tickled and some stung a bit, but Slater could tell that there was no real harm being done.

  “I’ve done every test I can think of. It appears to be what it says it is, at least based on the limited information available. Perhaps it’s time to open dialogue, Lieutenant?” the doctor suggested.

  “Very well. My first question would be to ask if that really is Captain Slater inside the glowing ball,” Camden asked.

  “As far as I know, Lieutenant. I suppose I really can’t say for sure after all that’s happened to me, but I do think I am Captain Slater. I have all the memories, all the experience, and I don’t see how I could be anyone or anything else,” Slater replied.

  “I’m not convinced, and we would like the chance to further examine your . . . ship, as it’s the first of its kind we’ve encountered. The dwarves we’ve been able to interact with peacefully over the years have mentioned derelicts, but you’re so far outside the mold of what we expected that I’m frankly not sure what we’re supposed to do with you, Slater,” the lieutenant admitted.

  He had mentioned the dwarves, and Slater supposed that Earth would have encountered at least some of the other races after his fleet had been attacked by the kobolds.

  “Take all the time you like,” Slater said. “I’m glad for the company. My only companion this whole time proved to be a deadly parasite. You’re the first people I’ve talked to since my . . . transformation. I take it you’ve encountered the dwarves. What happened with the kobolds? They destroyed our flotilla back on the day I was transformed.”

  “War is what happened. I’ll give you a quick rundown of the last 130 years, Slater. Your encounter with the kobolds was our first hint that there was life out there and it wasn’t friendly. The kobolds ran roughshod over our worlds until finally reaching Earth itself. By then, we had gotten our act together and managed to build a fleet of effective warships which, along with some orbital defense platforms, were able to stop their attack right on Earth’s doorstep. After that, we began an offensive to push them back.

  “The kobolds were poor fighters, and once we had ships that could compete with theirs, we started retaking the worlds we had lost. Unfortunately, the kobolds weren’t the only race traipsing about the stars. We were attacked by goblins, halflings, orcs, trolls—really hard to kill, by the way—and various other races. Every race we encountered had a chip on their shoulder and a desire to take what we had. The only friendlies we encountered so far have been the dwarves. They were willing to trade tech and recon info to us in return for some mining rights. The dwarves won’t fight alongside us. They’re kind of a neutral force in the galaxy, but they seem to like us for some reason.

  “Long story short, every fantasy creature you might have ever read about in fiction, save for the dwarves, is trying to eradicate humanity. Lucky for us, humans are hard to eradicate. If there’s one thing humanity can do better than anyone else in the galaxy, it’s wage war. In the last few decades, we’ve gained a considerable tech advantage over our opponents, who seem extremely advanced in some areas and hopelessly primitive in others. Our advanced tech seems to hold back their numerical advantages . . . at least for now.”

  It was a lot to digest, and Slater was sad that humanity had no allies . . . Halfling bad guys were hard to imagine.

  “I’ve been in this system the whole time and only encountered kobolds and dwarves,” Slater said. “Like you mentioned, the dwarves seemed okay, but the kobolds were always hostile. The only reason I use kobolds to defend my ship is because it’s one of the only patterns I have access to.”

  “I wanted to ask about that. How exactly do you obtain these schematics you mentioned in your report, and are you really able to break raw materials down and create new things from them?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes, Doctor . . .” Slater paused, wanting a name to go with the face.

  “Oh, my apologies. It’s Doctor Cheng. I suppose I should introduce the others. You’ve met the lieutenant. The surly sergeant over there is Gonzales, and the two privates are Long and Harris,” Cheng advised.

  Slater looked at the group. Gonzales was huge and had a look on his face like he was perpetually angry—a look most sergeants were blessed with, in Slater’s experience. The man was all soldier; he constantly swept the room for threats and was not distracted by the conversation around him. The two privates were similar in build. Slater could tell Long apart due to a scar along his cheek. Long kept trying to pet the rats, and Harris was mocking his failed efforts.

  “Thank you, Doctor. I would be glad to demonstrate how I gather schematics. Do you have something on you that’s okay to destroy?” Slater asked, excited to show off his abilities in front of the others.

  Cheng looked over to the lieutenant, who nodded slightly. These guys had no idea that Slater saw
and heard everything they did. Cheng rooted around in her pack before pulling out a simple penlight and holding it up to his core.

  “That will work. I don’t have a pattern for that light yet. Just place it on the ground and don’t be startled when my drone moves in to salvage it,” Slater told her.

  The doctor dropped the light and stepped back as one of his drones salvaged it. The schematic wasn’t useful and would likely just be automatically added to the loot pool or the compartment decoration options.

  “My drone has broken it down into its component parts. Now I’ll have it build something from the item,” Slater said, pulling up the cutlass template. He added the necessary extra salvage and the drone got to work printing it out. “I pulled more salvage from my pool, as the light didn’t have enough, but I wanted to make something a bit more interesting. That is a copy of an eighteenth-century cutlass from the French Navy that I used to own.”

  The lieutenant walked over and picked up the weapon, admiring it in a way that only a warrior could. “Astounding, and you can print up anything with the right materials? Things more complicated than a sword?” the lieutenant asked as he passed the blade around for the others to admire.

  “Yes, as long as I have learned the pattern, I can make it . . . even research upgrades for it over time,” Slater replied.

  The lieutenant fiddled with his throat mic, contacting the boat. “Confirm option four is correct. Contact the Havock and let them know,” Camden told the crew still aboard the ship’s boat. “Captain Slater, how long would you allow our team to stay and conduct our research?”