Hero at Large Page 8

I checked on life support. Nominal. I could see some surface damage around the cockpit, but nothing had impacted with any of the life support stuff. So while the ship was open to space, I was still in good shape.

  Eleven

  "Sydney station to Gladiator five nine, we show a ship coming through the jump point. Do you copy?"

  "Gladiator five nine to Sydney station, I see it, thanks."

  I tagged it, and ran it through the guild files. It immediately went red on my scanner, and information popped up showing there were twenty four outstanding bounties on the pilot. I noticed his name, and froze. Loctan Santiago. Obviously a relative, come to gloat at my demise.

  I quickly checked the status of the other three ships. Two of them still had shields up, so I left mine up. One still had a weapons lock on me, so something was still working over there, even if the pilot wasn't. I turned my coms off. I didn't want to have to reply to anyone, and wanted it to appear I didn't have any. I sat and waited for him to come on. As luck would have it, I was almost pointed directly at him, and from his perspective, I looked like a wreck.

  Before he could get into range, I activated the suit program, and hunted for a photo of a man in a spacesuit, with blood all over him, and a broken helmet. I fed that to the sensor input of the suit program, and my suit changed to look like I'd been killed in the explosion, even though I'd had a conventional suit on. I also let go of the controls, and let the ship go into a slight drift.

  He came on, slowing as he came into range. I hung in the seat without moving, trying to look as much as possible like a corpse. He came to a stop not far away, well within point blank range. I watched as two grav sleds emerged. Immediately I got a lock on him, and fired three IR's. They crossed the distance in seconds, and blew through his cockpit. The ship shuddered, and started tumbling backwards slowly.

  I turned the coms back on. Immediately there was a worried voice.

  "I say again, Sydney station to Gladiator five nine, are you alright."

  I couldn't help it, some slang from a very old flat screen came to me.

  "That's a big ten four good buddy. Gladiator five nine is A-Okay."

  There were screams of delight coming through as the operator came back.

  "Sydney station to Gladiator five nine, copy that, I think. We thought you were a goner when we got the ID on the ship which came through. Glad to see we were wrong. State your intentions."

  "Gladiator five nine has some housework to do out here, after which I'll be right home."

  "Sydney station to Gladiator five nine, do you require assistance?"

  "Negative Sydney station, Gladiator five nine has it all under control."

  I think, I added to myself.

  Ok, now to get this mess cleaned up. It took me a while to collect the two ships furthest away, partly because their shields took a while to dissipate. I slid out the two grav sleds, and slowly moved each of the sleds next to a ship, and turned on the gravity for the sled. Each ship was pulled into the sled, as was any debris nearby.

  Next came the last ship. Its sleds were out. I turned to bring one of my towed ships next to a sled, and cut the gravity. The ship slowly drifted over to the other sled, proving its gravity was on. I shifted again to bring the second sled near the other ship's second sled, and repeated the transfer. I collected the third ship, and returned to the fourth one. Being very careful to make sure it was attracted to the empty sled, I finally had all four ships under tow. It certainly didn't look pretty, but it seemed to be working.

  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 intentions."

  "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'll 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. It 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 bay 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, and 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 in slinky black. We headed for the shipyard main office. I'd pulled up a plan of the place, and 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've 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, as I'm not sure I want to keep it. I honestly don't understand why anyone flies a Gladiator."

  Bob laughed.

  "Yes, you're probably right at that. Basically, it's the cheapest of the long range fighters available in these parts. It's 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's 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 b
ecome 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."

  He gave me a speculative look.

  "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 it 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 which fills a hole in the market. In such things, I'll collaborate with the design, and market the new ship. If it 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 droid 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, it 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 ordnance 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 needed to find the override for this too.

  "Mr. Hunter. Over here if you would, please."

  The General appeared to be on a small rostrum, on one side of the dock area, with a podium in the middle. 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 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. He handed me two more after them.

  "The first of the good news is, I can confirm your four kills this morning, and with 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 didn't know they issued badges for being an ace. I knew five kills was traditionally 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 received 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 requested the crowd disperse about their business.

  "Can you meet me in my office tomorrow morning at oh nine hundred please. We'll go over what your commission entails. And don't worry. We're 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 of it 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've taken the liberty of sending a chef to your suite, and she'll have dinner for you whenever you would like. We hope you'll 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 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's 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 landing 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're a time traveler from the twenty first century who got stranded here."

  I laughed, thought about my collection of Doctor Who, decided it 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."