Gray Panthers Captain Short Blade (7 page)

“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 grav 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.

“Ground force commander? Ground force commander, come in.”

Hearing the transmission coming from the shuttle, Harve ran to the nearest body. Tearing off the Libra’s cold weather outerwear, he saw the name Hachuu on his name tag. He ran back to the shuttle and picked up the headset.

“Help! Help! This is Hachuu. The planet’s surface has been saturated with biological weapons. I’m the only survivor. Help! I’m dying. It’s too painful. I can’t bear it. I’m bleeding from my eyes.”

Harve fired his pistol out the open hatch and threw the headset down. The shot drew the marine. Harve covered his mouth and pointed to the headset, and then silently exited the shuttle.

“I don’t think we’re going to be getting any company soon,” Harve informed the marine as they walked back to the depot. “Now, did I just kill pirates, or is there a government in exile I’m not aware of? I’ll have to check the documentation inside the shuttles later. If they were from an exiled Libra government, I’m sure there’ll be paperwork to that effect—titles and regulation manuals and such.”

Heads were popped up from five windows as they returned to the depot building. Harve decided they would take a last stand if it came to that.

“I want you sailors to get that other grav cart and take it to where the first one was detonated. Then, go to the bodies and get every serviceable weapon you can find. Marines, I want you to scatter the fuel cells around the tarmac like a minefield. If we get attacked again, we’ll let them walk into the middle of the cells and then ignite them with weapon fire. No one goes near the shuttles or makes any noise near them. Now move.”

It was only then that Harve noticed he was still holding the pistol at his side. Both of his arms began to shake, and it took him three tries before he could get it back into the holster. He stood guard as the sailors and marines performed their assigned duties. Suddenly, one of the marines was double-timing it toward him.

“Sir, the Vengeance has returned,” he called out, handing a tiny wire to Harve. It took Harve a moment to see how it worked.

“MO Harve here.”

“What did you do to ruin my trap?”

“Sir, all we did was defend ourselves.”

“I left a monitor and was a short jump away. My plan was to stay out of sight and then jump back and get more of the bastards. They came in one ship but departed before I could attack. What did you do?”

“I killed the enemy ground party to the last Libra, sir. Then I answered their ship’s hail. I identified myself as one of their party and said the area was covered in biological agents. I then made it sound as though I had committed suicide. That’s the worst sin a Libra can commit.”

“We’ll talk more when you return. How is the equipment in the depot?”

“Everything of value has already been stolen, sir. The depot technicians are all dead.”

“Prepare to be picked up. The shuttle should depart in ten minutes.”

“Sir, please send additional pilots for the six shuttles we captured here. They are all first-rate. Worth the trip here.”

“Good job, MO Harve. Vengeance, out.”

“Everyone to me! The shuttles will be here to pick us up soon, so I don’t want to bother with the fuel cells. Everyone get back in the building under cover, and find a firing position. When I give the order, we’ll destroy the fuel cells with weapon fire. It’s safer than trying to handle them all again. Now move.” Harve felt the last of his energy leaving him as he entered the building.

“Everyone pick a target and start shooting until there are no more targets!” The shoulder-fired lasers were quiet compared with the projectile weapons. Within seconds, the only sound was the blasts of the fuel cells blowing up. Marines and sailors alike cheered at the fireworks and the realization that they were safe and would soon be on the way back to their ship.

A trio of shuttles screamed through the clouds at full speed toward the depot, pulling up at the last second. Only the squadron markings on the shuttles kept Harve from ordering his teams to open fire.

“It looks like you’ve been busy, MO!” the captain called out as he walked toward Harve. He had landed farther out and was accompanied by twenty marines who surrounded him in all directions. He stopped to have his picture taken with the bodies and the charred shuttles in the background.