Hero at Large_Second Edition Page 11

"Fine. That's the standard spiel, what do you tell someone with credits to spend?"

  He grinned at me.

  "Yon General has told me they'll buy all five Gladiators from me, assuming I can successfully negotiate a deal with you. I know what they'll pay, but not what you'll take. However, on that basis, I know what you have to 'spend' without actually spending any credits, give or a take some good bargaining. Let us put aside for now your issues of speed and shielding, and talk fittings. The standard model comes clean without much of anything. Into it you must put a bed, guns, ordnance, and sundry extras. What have you in mind?"

  "Bed wise, I'll go with the best available, one suited to bruises down one side."

  He smiled again.

  "Guns wise," I went on, "what do you recommend? I forgot to look at them."

  "How good a shot are you?" he asked.

  "With a rifle, fairly good, although I didn't get much chance to practice at home. But as part of space preparation training, we did have to learn how to handle a variety of weapons. I was better with rifles than hand guns, but the instructors said I just needed practice, which I didn’t get. The 'tool man' didn’t think much of my aim though. In space simulators, I'm pretty good, having had a lot of practice."

  "There are several options. You can get a very fast rate of fire with low hitting value. These 'streamer' lasers are like a hose of water. You start the flow of shots which stream out, and you 'walk' it onto the target, and hold it there. Very good for people who can't shoot worth a damn. At the other extreme are pulse guns which shoot out a pulse at intervals dependent on the recharge rate. The more powerful the pulse, the slower they recharge, and the better the aim needed to use them effectively. Between, you have variations of both extremes."

  "What was on the Gladiators?"

  "Low end of the pulses. Relatively fast rate of fire, but not much damage caused with each pulse."

  "Explains why they rely mostly on IR missiles," I suggested.

  "Indeed. What would you prefer?"

  "Do you have a simulation?"

  He pinged me the trigger. I spent a bit of time on each gun, using them in mock combat, and seeing the effect.

  "I'll go with the level ten pulses. They'll be slower than most will expect, and hit harder than they'll expect, assuming I can get them to hit. If need be after I've tried them in combat, I can always change them up or down, or mix them up a bit, but for now, I think they'll suit me."

  One of the reasons why I'd gone for these was if all six hit at the same place, they'd cause hull damage, if not disable the ship in one go. Required being a good shot, but the simulation seemed to indicate I could use them effectively.

  "What are the options for rear turret?" I went on.

  "You can fit a single, dual, or quad mount on there. Depends on the purpose which one I'd recommend."

  "I was thinking a primary purpose of being point defense, and a secondary of upsetting anyone getting comfortable in my kill slot."

  Point defense is a weapon designed to kill missiles, or any other object which might impact the hull, as far away as possible. They also needed to be quick firing, and fast tracking. The kill slot is the position directly behind you, giving a straight shot up your tail pipe. The two objectives were not always compatible.

  "For that, I recommend the quad turret, and the heavy point defense lasers. The turret is fast tracking, and the guns have a very rapid fire, although quite a low hit value. However, one shot will take out any missile, and a few dozen will scare off anyone behind you."

  "Done. What missile launch options are there?" I asked.

  "There are two sorts of launchers. Re-loadable and not. In either twenty or fifty missile loads. The cheap end fire in the order they're loaded. The expensive end are fully selectable by missile type. The reloads for fighters are one shot, but are also twenty or fifty missile capacity. Most go for a twenty with no reload, and it's about half and half as to being selectable or not. There is one other option. That's the one hundred shot torpedo launcher. These are small very fast dumb file missiles, on a one second re-fire, which pack a wallop. Aimed well, they can do as much damage as your guns all hitting at once. Three hits in as many seconds can destroy a medium fighter. They're not often used, except by exceptional pilots with excellent aim."

  "What do you recommend for me?" I asked.

  "For you, based on what I saw yesterday, and I took the liberty of playing the whole battle at slow speed, I would recommend a fifty capacity reloadable missile launcher, and the torpedo launcher. You showed an ability to use missiles intelligently. With a reload for the missile launcher, they effectively give you one hundred selectable missiles, and another hundred opportunity fast fire torpedoes. I would rig your joystick with two fire buttons to make selection even quicker. Missiles always require thought. Torpedoes require fast reaction times. I think you have them, and this combination will do well for you. Added to that, no-one will guess you carry so many, so you'll surprise them if you find yourself in a situation where they think you are out."

  "Sounds good to me. Where does that leave us?"

  "Severely over weaponed I'm afraid."

  He grinned.

  "So these choices mean even less shielding and speed than standard?"

  "Yes, I'm afraid so," he agreed.

  "Why don't we just make the hull bigger?"

  His mouth opened and closed again, followed by a smile which could only be called predatory.

  "You and I, my friend, are going to get along famously! Why don't we just make the hull bigger, he says. Why not indeed. We can, but there will be a cost. But then, cost is relative. Lengthening changes the dynamics, changes the balance of the thrusters, requires more engine power. But you wanted more engine power, and more shielding. Length also is defined by what will fit in a standard landing berth, so maybe we need to tweak the width as well. Yes, yes, possibilities. Let me see what I can come up with, my young friend."

  He grinned at me. I grinned back.

  "While you're at it, I'd like a modification to the flight controls. The left hand thrust control, I'd like it changed so it also has a left-right toggle switch at the base, always returning to neutral when no pressure is applied either way. I don't like using foot pedals, and would rather control roll with my left hand. I don't use it a lot, so the toggle needs to have reasonable pressure applied to work at all. The more pressure applied, the faster it works. In other words, it needs deliberate action to apply roll either way. Leave the foot pedals, but allow the usual ability to change things around."

  "An interesting modification. That can, and will be done."

  "Anything else I should consider?" I asked.

  "You might consider a decent AI."

  "AI?"

  "Artificial Intelligence. In fact, it may be necessary, as the changes I'll need to make, may make landing almost impossible to do manually. You should also consider a salvage droid, maintenance droid, cleaning bots, and security droids."

  "What's the difference between a droid and a bot?"

  I had an idea, but I wanted to hear it anyway.

  "Intelligence mostly. A bot is programmed to do a task. It's a dumb machine for repetitive tasks, like cleaning. A droid has a low level AI, or will take instruction from a higher end AI. They are more versatile. And before you ask, a salvage droid takes out a grav sled, and systematically collects everything it can, or whatever it is tasked to get. I've seen a salvage droid pack what you brought back on four sleds, onto a single sled. They are that good at doing the job! A maintenance droid will fix anything which breaks down, provided it has a specification, and spare parts. This can be useful in a battle. With several you can be using something badly damaged within minutes again. Cleaning bots, well they keep your ship clean. Security droids are something you definitely should consider. When you no longer have a bodyguard, they can act as such. They also guard your ship, internally and externally. They can be independently controlled, or under central control of a higher AI."


  An immediate thought came to mind about the security droids. Something to ponder when I got some.

  "You've convinced me. Add what you think the ship will need." I paused a moment. "Will the AI be moveable?"

  "Yes, it could be easily moved from one ship to another. The best ones can control multiple ships. Secondary ships get a sort of clone version of the original, and when in range, they respond as one."

  "Good. I'll leave you to figure out what is doable."

  "I love a good challenge," he said. "I'll be back to you, as soon as the design work is complete."

  We said our goodbyes, and the three of us headed off home.

  Sixteen

  When did a hotel room become home? I wondered about it, sitting back in my easy chair. It felt odd. I'd never really called my real home on Gaia, home. Outback was my official home, but it had never actually been home. And now home was a hotel room, on a space station, a year away from where I left? Was I that detached from what everyone else viewed as a normal home? What was normal? I needed to get a grip. Down that road was madness.

  Three pulses came in from different service people. The first was about the service uniforms I needed. The second was the 'basics manual'. I threw the manual onto my pad. The third was the military overlay for the social settings. I brought up what it was 'showing'. The social seemed unchanged, although I noticed a current stunner license was listed. I guess it was for station security to easily check if the guns I wore were licensed or not. I switched it over to military, and the display remained the same, only with added information. This included my rank, service, superior officer, and a status of 'detached service'. Underneath was my medal, and my kill score. Interesting, but time wasting. I turned it off.

  I realized with a start, I hadn't had the suit program from George yet. I also remembered I hadn't had any contact with Alison today.

  I pinged Alison asking how she was, and when she'd be by. Then I pinged George. An auto-respond came back from both of them, to the effect they were out, and would get back to me. Sounded like the Colonel had them on a mission of some kind.

  I dived back into designing the HUD overlay. Time went by.

  "Food?" said Amanda, and I jumped clear out of the chair, and fell back heavily on my left side.

  Again. She completely cracked up.

  "That doesn't get old."

  She continued laughing. I gave her 'the look'. She laughed harder.

  "Why don't we go out?" I asked. "Is there a good Chinese on the station? Do you like Chinese?"

  "Yes there is, and yes we do."

  "Who else is available?"

  "Just us three. Everyone else is working." Pause. "Let me rephrase that, everyone is working but the two of us can eat while we work, and where you go, we go. Who pays?"

  "I do."

  She went blank for a moment.

  "They have a table held for us. You want to change, or go as we are?"

  "Were you intending to change?"

  "Nope, but we can if you want."

  "I don't want."

  "Then this way, kind sir", she said, waving her arm towards the door.

  I stood, and she looped an arm around my arm, and off we went. Outside the hotel, Aleesha met up with us, and looped an arm around my other arm, and the three of us walked arm in arm along the mall.

  "No high kick steps, or goose-stepping," I said. They looked at me. "What? Where's your sense of humours? Haven't you seen stage performers doing high kicks with their arms locked together, or old newsreels of goose-stepping soldiers?" Silence. "Oh for pete's sake lighten up the two of you."

  I caught a quiet mumble from Amanda.

  "Weird," she said.

  I pretended not to notice.

  It didn't take too long to get to the restaurant. We did draw some attention along the way. Identical twins with the local hero, all armed to the teeth. Who wouldn't take notice? I tried very hard not to notice.

  The manager met us at the door, effusive welcomes, and a round of applause by the patrons. I pretended not to notice.

  We were led to a table in what appeared to be the exact center of the place. Three sixty degrees of stares. I pretended not to notice.

  The waitress came over to our table. I noticed.

  Short, cute, little black skirt, nice arse. I pretended not to notice.

  Amanda hit me on the arm. I stifled a groan, and pretended not to notice.

  "Wine ladies?" I asked.

  Two identical shakes of the head. I motioned a negative to the waitress, but she didn't notice. She handed me the wine menu, and I politely handed it back. She apologized effusively, and almost ran away.

  The manager came over with three menus, and neatly dropped our serviettes into our laps. I picked mine up and put it back on the table, folded into quarters. We asked for water, and I asked for a fork. All three of them looked at me. The manager walked off.

  "A fork? In a Chinese restaurant?" demanded Aleesha. "Are you trying to insult them?"

  "So I never mastered chop sticks. Shoot me." A hand snaked downwards. "No, don't shoot me. Just allow me the dignity of a fork."

  I opened up my menu, and the girls did likewise. I scanned rapidly down the list. Everything looked good.

  "Are we eating communal? Or being selfish?"

  That got another look. I laughed.

  "Are we sharing or eating our own plates?"

  "Sharing," they said together.

  "I hate eating plates, too gritty," added Aleesha deadpan.

  We all laughed.

  "What do you fancy?" I asked. Both of them smirked. "To eat!" I added hastily.

  I felt like we were rapidly losing control of the evening. On the other hand, maybe it was a good idea.

  Our waitress came back to take our orders. She brought with her a tray with a bottle of water, three glasses, and a fork. She placed a glass beside each of us, the fork next to my chop sticks, and poured water all over my hand as I held the glass for her. I pretended not to notice.

  More apologies, and a rapid mopping of water later, and we had full glasses. Were we ready to order? We were.

  "Can we have a Mongolian Beef please, and the Sweet and Sour Pork Authentic," I requested.

  "The Honey Prawns," added Amanda.

  "The Lemon Chicken," added Aleesha.

  "Large fried rice," I added. "And the mixed entrée for three. And we'll have them all in the middle of the table so we can share."

  She nodded and went blank, obviously pinging the order to the kitchen.

  "Will that be all?" she said.

  Yes thanks, we murmured.

  She did a sort of half bob, half bow, turned, and walked straight into another server, who was carrying a full load of food. There was a massive crash as waitress, server, and food, went down in a big mess of broken plates. I pretended not to notice.

  With cleanup operations under way, I enquired about what the rest of the team were up to. Neither of the girls knew. Amanda asked what I'd been up to all afternoon, so I told them about the overlay in detail, and continued to as we ate our entrée, which had been brought by another server. As the dishes were being cleared away, I finally noticed the glazed look on both their faces, and it was obvious this had nothing to do with PC usage. I fell silent, and pretended not to notice.

  Fortunately, the main courses arrived. With them came a bottle of champagne, and three glasses, and before we knew it we were having a toast. None of us really wanted alcohol, but it would have been discourteous to have refused.

  We helped ourselves to wonderful food, until we couldn't eat another mouthful. There was a fair bit left over. The waitress came over to check if we wanted anything more.

  "Can I have a 'doggy bag' for the leftovers please?"

  Everything around us stopped. All eyes settled on me.

  "What?" I demanded. Silence. "Can you do the leftovers as take away?" I clarified.

  Smiles, and a number of head shakes. The waitress went off with the dishes. There were no ac
cidents this time.

  "Did you know you are sometimes really weird?" asked Amanda.

  "I decided a long time ago to embrace my weirdness. I'm working on making 'weird' into an art form."

  They both laughed. I kept a deadpan face, and they laughed harder.

  A short time later, my 'doggy bag' came back. We got up to leave, and stopped by the pay station. The manager pinged me the bill. I looked at it. There was no mention of champagne, and only three meals instead of five. I smiled at him, and gave him a short formal bow of the head. I added a good sized tip on the total, and triggered the drop account to make payment. I pinged the waitress, and thanked her for her great service. She went white, which I pretended not to notice.

  We'd just gone out the door, when a threat warning popped up. My right hand went for my gun.

  "You gunna git it now you summabish. You…"

  My gun was up, and I pumped out twelve pulses before I could get my finger off the trigger. The man standing across the passage way was propelled back against the wall, and crashed down to the floor, his gun skidding off down the passageway. I holstered my gun. There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by applause.

  "How many hit him?" I asked generally.

  "Two," said Aleesha.

  "We've got to work on that," said Amanda. "Tomorrow we hit the firing range, and the gym."

  "You forgot to blow the smoke off your gun barrel too," added Aleesha.

  "Damn," I said. "Next time."

  Both girls shook their heads in wonder, and I grinned at them.

  "That was a pretty good reaction time though. You beat both of us," said Amanda.

  "Everything I've ever read about bad guys said to never let them monologue. Besides, his accent was so bad I couldn't have stood listening to any more. Are we done standing around here, or do we have to wait for security?"

  "I just told them we were heading back to the hotel," said Aleesha. "They'll be here momentarily, but we don't need to wait."

  We started walking away.

  "Just as well I had the take away in my left hand. Would have been a waste of good food if I'd thrown the doggy bag at him instead."

  They looked at me, and the three of us cracked up. We linked arms, and laughed our way home. When we got back, I found an email on my pad from the Mercenary Guild.