Galactic Freighter: Scourge of the Deep Space Pirates (Contact) (2 page)

"Shouldn't be a problem. She'll carry cannons. I'm going to beef it up. If one of those damned bandits tries to board me, I'll either blow them to hell or ram the bastards." Buck knew his friend liked a little excitement. In a bar fight, and they'd been in a few together, Tommy was a good man to have at your side. Buck watched the man's reaction, suspecting he knew the answer.

"Ten percent huh?" Tommy rubbed the day's stubble on his square-jawed chin.

"Of the profit; that means after I subtract the costs."

"Damn, I must be crazy but I'll go alone with ya. Maybe yor luck will hold and I kin finally make some big money." Freight hauling could be a real moneymaker if you were good at the business and Buck had proven capable of pulling it off.

"Take me home so I can stow my gear and change clothes. Can't call on people in this get-up." First, Buck had to get his freight hauler’s certificate.

Tommy stopped the aircar at the front of Buck's house and, with some effort, the big man crawled from the cramped space.

The white marble mansion wasn't that of an ordinary freighter and had everything a person could want. Even though Buck was seldom on the planet, wild parties at the indoor gym and swimming pool made for great tales. When those stories were voiced by friends, denials never came from Buck. Of course, Tommy had partied at more than a few shindigs and knew firsthand the stories were mostly true. He followed Buck inside and waited to drive to the licensing offices.

***

After the two days it took to satisfy the authorities, Buck, along with Tommy, joined the dealer in his shuttle. Ten hours later, on orbit, Buck surveyed the rows of ships offered for sale.

Above Iona, Tommy and Buck finished the spacesuit safety check and strapped on their grav-boots before stepping among the used ships parked above the planet. The dealer, in a skinsuit donned his helmet and grav-boots. Each strapped on a jet pack and made their way past a number of ships, everything from runabouts to personal luxury craft, arriving at a freighter that had seen better days. Buck knew this ship's history having done his homework, and knew that the engines were salvageable, avoiding the biggest cost.

For a few minutes, his eyes swept the exterior. His interest didn't go unnoticed by the dealer and that worked in Buck's favor.

"This old girl will make you a fine ship. A little work and a few credits should get a space-worthy certificate. I can make you a good price."

Buck knew the dealer's pitch was less than honest. Any experienced spacer would look at the ship and know it had seen better days. The man didn't mention the engines and Buck was sure he knew why. Scuttlebutt had it that the Casimirs were beyond repair and needed replacing. It was
caveat emptor
, buyer beware, but in this case, Buck knew what the ship had been through, and more particularly that they could repair the engines with little cost.

Buck had spaced on long haul freighters and worked his way up to astrogator. Divorced, and no children, he'd managed to make a very good living. Next to the captain and first mate, the astrogator was the highest paid crewmember on a deep space freighter. A good navigator could save a freight hauler many credits just like a bad or careless one could cost them. Buck was one of the best and knew it.

"I got the time," he said thoughtfully.

They waited as the man opened the main hatch and then followed inside.

Tommy activated his grav-boots and headed for the engine room. Buck made his way forward to the bridge. He didn't spend any time inspecting the navigation or communications layout, their condition wasn't important as he planned to install all new equipment. Instead, he focused on the forward structure where ram would go. When the dealer said the electronic equipment was operable, Buck smiled.

Satisfied with what he saw, they made their way to the electronics cabin. Again, most of this equipment would go. Next, they plodded to the graviton generators. It would take a deep space run to know if they would put the ship into hyperspace.

"Can you power these up?" He pointed to the gravity deck plate generator controls.

The dealer flipped a few switches, bringing life to the panel.

"Activate the grav-plates," Buck said. The two walked bow to stern and port to starboard inspecting every deck plate.

They were salvageable, eliminating another major cost.

Tommy emerged from the engine room and from the corner of his eye, Buck watched the engineer as he approached. His helmet didn't keep him from shaking his head three times side to side, a signal Buck had figured right on the engines.

The three inspected the fusion bottle and graviton generators. Buck tripped the test toggle and waited as Tommy studied the instrument panel. "Okay here, Buck," he said and cut the power.

Offered a price, Buck cut it by half and the haggling began. Tommy stood off to one side with a smile on his face. Every time the dealer tried to close the deal, Buck lowered his bid.

The big man told the dealer to take his offer or leave it.

"I'll take it." From the look on the man's face, he seemed relieved, rid of what he considered a piece of junk. To Buck, it was his chance to be an independent freight hauler.

Chapter Three:
More than a Freighter

O
nce the refit station manager verified Buck had made the advance payment, the work began. In the on-orbit overhaul station, Buck was everywhere, cajoling, listening to ideas, showing someone how to do something, chewing on a slacker, and most often getting his way.

After a year of hard intense work done to his satisfaction, the ship received approval to space for the certification tests. Iona's inspectors seemed leery as they ran through the checklist, their judgment clouded by rumors overheard in the local bars. That did nothing to bolster their confidence.

With every requirement met, they could find no reason to deny a space run, the next to last step in gaining the needed approval. None wanted to be aboard when the ship spaced for its initial trial: they would monitor electronically from their offices.

Buck stood on the bridge pleased with the results of the modifications. "Let's give her a try," he said his voice more than a kid with a new plaything. This wasn't a toy: with the changes yet to come, this ship would be deadly. He touched the comm icon. "First Mate, when we clear the maintenance platform—" that meant at least one thousand kilometers separation, "—start the engines." No dock master would permit a start while inside the facility. A runaway engine meant disaster for the station and ship. Soon the shakedown cruise would tell Buck if the time and credits gave him what he'd always wanted—his own freighter.

Buck manipulated the thrusters guiding them from the mooring rails. "Need a name for it," Danko Ravits said in an electrified voice. Buck would be his own astrogator but with some experience at the helm, Danko could spell him. Shorter by a head than Buck and well-muscled, his reputation for never backing down from a good fight was something Buck figured might come in handy. He'd known the man for some time and that Danko followed orders. They still needed one more crewman and he'd be ready for his kind of work—as a freighter.

"Of course," Buck responded. "I've decided to name it
Phoenix
. I figure she's reborn and ready to space."

As captain and astrogator, he keyed the comm. "Dock master, Phoenix is ready to leave the repair station, request permission."

Receiving clearance, which included the accounting department assuring the dock master Phoenix had paid the bill in full, something tyro dock masters learned quickly or not at all, Buck continued on the thrusters, backing from the orbital overhaul repair facility as workers stood along the catwalks waved. Most had put time on the ship and applauded their effort. He then turned toward clear space.

"Where we a-goin'?" Tommy asked from the engine room.

"For the first few hours, I'm just going to cruise the neighborhood." Buck sounded like an overprotective father. "At least until we know she's ready for something a little tougher."

"Good thinking." A laugh commed throughout the ship.

***

The next ten days saw them through the normal shakedown replacing or repairing troublesome equipment. Occasionally, they had to send their shuttle to the repair station and get a workable part.

Beyond Iona's gravity-well, and satisfied with the ship's performance, Buck opened the intercom ship wide. "Everyone into skinsuits, lock all hatches. Let's find out what Phoenix can do."

He entered the coordinates and increased the power in graduated steps. Getting the Casimir engines running wasn't the problem it had been when first developed. Engineers had come up with a way to initiate the process without a nuclear explosion, removing a great deal of expense and one hell of a risk.

"Tommy, think the engines are ready to try hyperspace?" Buck would rely on the man's judgment. The first mate had lived with these engines since day one and could sense if they were performing up to specifications. The Casimirs would propel the gravity envelop that encapsulated the spaceship fore and aft. In addition, the forward grav-field cleared their path of space debris, if it wasn't too large. Entering hyperspace would tell them if the gravionic-generators functioned properly. They either created the differential gravity wells ahead and behind Phoenix or they didn't and if the ship made hyperspace, that meant they worked—very straightforward as far as spacers were concerned.

While in hyperspace, both the ship and inhabitants would experience three-tenths c. A deep sigh came across the comm. "We can try it but gimme control back h'yer. Jist in case somethin' decides ta act up."

Buck made the transfer to the engine room. "It's all yours, engineer."

Far enough beyond Iona's gravity well, a steady hum echoed through the ship as they accelerated, reaching the Alpha setting. Getting over the queasy feeling didn't take Buck long; he'd been through it too many times. "Looks like we've got a winner." He was excited and every bit pleased with the results.

Minutes later Phoenix dropped into normal space and Buck reversed the ship, shedding their forward velocity. Manipulating the thrusters, he changed to the vector that would take them to a rogue repair shop for the ramming blade and the cannon installation.

***

One month later, he checked and rechecked the six high-energy weapons, four in fixed positions facing forward, two with three hundred sixty-degree horizontal movement and one hundred eighty degrees elevation mounted on the ship's top and one on the bottom. The ram addition amounted to little more than electron welding the wedge to the already strengthened nose and modifying the forward blast shields. Even more than the guns, the ram blade excited Buck.

Modifications completed, Danko entered the coordinates for Iona, and they headed home.

Buck admitted installing the energy cannons satisfied a whim but adding the ramming blade was as much a fantasy as anything. He’d dreamed of seeing the face of a pirate thinking he had an easy picking and then crushing his ship.

They eased into their assigned orbit slot above Iona and all but the watch crew boarded the shuttle for dirtside.

Outfitted in his new captain's uniform, Buck's first stop was at the freighters’ quasi-scheduling office. This was as close to an organization as existed. Freighters by their nature were independent and shied away from anyone controlling them, especially governments. If Buck could convince these people to trust him with their cargo, the deep space freight lines would fall in line and he'd be in business.

It took some fancy talking to sell the idea, but things worked as Buck had hoped. The caveat: he had to put up a performance bond; something he’d not anticipated.

He managed to find a surety company willing to take the risk—albeit at a premium price. Few of those he talked with were convinced spacing alone was a good idea. Pirating had increased in the Fastoid Sector and most freighters traveled in convoys. That wasn't always possible and ships boarded by pirates often resulted in the crews killed, always with their cargo taken. It was getting harder to find passable crewmen willing to take the risk.

Buck made the rounds of cartage companies and got a contract that was worth the effort. He still needed one more crewman and checked around with no luck. Many wanted the job but couldn't meet Buck's requirements—mainly anarrest record no worse than his.

Aboard Phoenix he answered the comm.

"Captain Fryman," said the orbit master, absent his usual authoritative voice, "There's someone here that says you're looking for another hand."

"You bet. I'll send the shuttle." Buck didn't question the no-nonsense master. The man wouldn't risk his reputation on someone known to have problems. Going dirtside and back took almost four hours and Buck spent his time preparing to de-orbit.

The cargo bay doors closed and the shuttle locked onto the securing rails. His ire rose as he watched a robust but attractive woman dressed in coveralls, step onto the hanger bay deck. He shook his head. "Lady, I need a man. People who work for me have to move some big loads. It's hard work." He didn't mention that he'd not equipped Phoenix to accommodate a woman and there was little privacy on any small ship. "I'm afraid I can't use you. Sorry you made the trip for nothing."

"I can handle anything these crackers can." Her voice was confident as she motioned toward the three men securing the shuttle. Despite her height, slightly shorter than Buck, taller than most men, she moved with a certain grace—
practiced
he thought.

"I've worked a dozen freighters. Check it." Her voice and manner were not antagonistic but that of someone sure of themselves.

He pressed his shoulder comm. "Yes, Tommy," who had the bridge watch.

"Orbit Master says we leave now or lose our slot. Next available openin' is in four days. One thing we ain't ever done is load the ship down and I got no idea how these engines'll handle with cargo so we need ta git a move on."

Buck had everything riding on this run and being late on his first haul wasn't an option. The orbit master would not accept the four-hour delay needed for the shuttle to make the trip to Iona and back. He knew this man and passing Phoenix's slot to another ship wouldn't faze him a bit. Added to that, in the freight business, perception was everything. This delivery had to arrive on time and undamaged.