Gray Panthers Captain Short Blade (2 page)

The Fire cruiser Vengeance, orbiting Viz

3 April 2129

“Mr. Harve, you have been identified as a high-ranking civilian engineer from the Libra navy. I am offering you the chance to enlist in the Fire Ship Fleet as a maintenance officer. We have many ships captured from the Libra that we need time to learn how to operate. You would be the maintenance officer for the Vengeance. If you serve well, you may be allowed to retire to Jacka in a community of fellow Libra. The alternative is to go to the planet’s surface here on Viz and wait until our politicians and those of the League of Planets decide for you.”

The Jacka speaking to Harve did not appear to care which choice Harve made.

“I will serve the Fire Ship Fleet. In a year, when your people have learned all there is to learn about your new ships, I will volunteer to teach your designers how to build even better ships. There are few choices for my people any more.

“Thank you, Mr. Harve. Do you know where we can find the pirate navy? We need to destroy it before it becomes too strong.”

“I don’t know the coordinates. The home base is in a system of a dozen planets in orbit around a huge gas giant. They’ve managed to build a station out of a dozen or so cargo ships they put together. They’re formidable. I’ve seen the station protected with no less than a dozen mixed ships.

“Thank you for your honesty. Do you think they’re being supplied by any planets?”

“I would be surprised if they weren’t. The navy had many bases filled with supplies. Toward the end of the war, many ships refused to move war cargo since they disappeared. I would go after those bases and collect the supplies before they are taken or go missing.”

“It’s a shame you are Libra, Mr. Harve. You are both intelligent and honest. Those traits are in short supply these days. You may go to the office outside. They will have you sign your commission papers and then indoctrinate you into the Fire fleet.

“Sir, you say I will be the maintenance officer. Does that mean I will have Jacka Fire sailors under me?”

“Yes, and other species. Any sailor who doesn’t follow your orders will be reprimanded. Discipline is more important than ever.”

Harve went out to sign the contract and found that pay was based on species. As a Libra officer he would make less than a Jacka sailor on the same ship. Harve swallowed his pride. He would fix this once he had become part of the solution from the inside.

When he arrived at supply, he got even more of a shock when he saw that the uniforms and equipment were a mishmash of whatever the Fire fleet had managed to capture or buy on the open market. He realized it could be in his best interest to wear Libra-designed gear.

The Jacka on base were all respectful of his rank and saluted without any hesitation. As Harve had suspected, they had grown accustomed to Libra authority when the Jacka had served as mercenaries for the Libra. That was why saluting him was so easy for them. The port officer was polite when he requested transportation to his ship.

“Sir, it will be a little while, but I can get you on the next shuttle to the Vengeance with no trouble. I’m sure they’ll be glad to have you,” the sailor said with a smile.

“Why do you think they’ll be so glad to have me, sailor?” Harve asked, feeling as if there was a secret he didn’t know.

“Sir, the original ships of the Fire fleet were captured from the Libra by the humans, who  modified them so they’re almost entirely automated. They can even repair themselves. But the ships the Fire fleet captured from the Libras are almost useless. They don’t know how to use or repair them. Most of the crews are Libra or any species that volunteered to sail on them. The only Jacka are the officers and a heavy security force to maintain discipline."

“Sir, there’s a shuttle heading for the Vengeance. You can catch it on pad thirty-one if you hurry. It’s an unscheduled flight, but they’ll wait for you.”

Harve took off in the direction in which the sailor had pointed before realizing he didn’t know the Jacka numbering system. The field of simple concrete pads was numbered in Jacka, Libra, and a few League of Planet numbers.

“Over here!”

Harve saw there was only one shuttle with its engines running, so he headed for it as he tried to make out what the crewman was shouting.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear what you were saying over the engine noise,” Harve yelled as the hatch was being shut.

“Doesn’t matter now,” the crewman told him. “Strap in tight. The lieutenant thinks he’s flying a fighter!”

“I heard that, chief! But it’s good advice,” the pilot called out.

Harve felt the blood rush to his toes as the shuttle launched at forty-five degrees, at maximum allowed power. The lieutenant was quickly out of the atmosphere and flying around doing acrobatics as the shuttle slowly made its way to the cruiser between rolls and maneuvers.

“That was too short. Should we do it again?” The chief replied by popping the hatch open so they couldn’t leave the cruiser. Harve took that as a sign to get out fast before something else happened.

The cruiser was already filling up with new crewmembers as Harve found the admin officer and got his berthing assignment. The cabin hadn’t been touched since the ship had been captured. Family pictures and personal possessions were still in the room. The last occupant had been the same size as Harve. The back of a desk drawer contained the officer’s valuables and side arm.
These might come in handy one day,
Harve thought.

“Maintenance officer to the flight deck,” blared over the ship’s speaker system. Harve hopped up to run to the flight deck. As he rushed along the passageways, repaired damage still showed like ugly scars..

“Sir, MO Harve reports.” The captain standing in front of him was the biggest Jacka Harve had ever seen.

“What did you do during the war, Harve?” Senior Captain Thrust seemed to roar, he was so loud.

“Sir, I was a civilian navy engineer responsible for designing ships and making modifications. Before that I worked in logistics, fielding supplies to the different types of depots.

“Good. We can use those skills. The ship runs on a twenty-hour day. Everyone works ten hours on, then ten off. When you have free time, you will use it to figure out how to better automate the ship or document training for new officers and crew. Any questions?”

“Will the ship be getting an AI, sir?” Harve asked, looking anxious.

“I doubt that, MO. Do you think you could modify the ship if we were to get a hold of one?”

“I would do my best to integrate it into the ship’s systems, sir. Especially if I could see another ship that has already had the upgrade.

“I know the briefings for new personnel are minimal. One thing I know they didn’t tell you. After myself and the operations officer, you are next in line for command of the ship. If we are both killed and some other officer tries to interfere with you taking command, it is your responsibility to shoot that officer. Do you understand?”

Yes, sir, I–”

“You will be trained on ship handling as well as all ship’s systems. The XO is assembling a roster to ensure that everyone has bridge time to stay current.” Harve wondered if the captain was clairvoyant, the way he seemed to know what Harve was going to ask.

“Unlike many other Jacka officers, I spent over a dozen years on cargo ships, and then patrol ships, before we got the big ships. The only reason I’m not on one of the AI ships is that I know what I’m doing. You are dismissed, MO.”

Daniels World (previously the Flem home world)

3 April 2129

Dan Daniels was sitting in his lawn chair enjoying the view from his back yard. There was nothing but grass for two hundred miles in all directions except for an orchard of fruit trees from a dozen different planets.

“You want some fresh lemonade, Dan?”

Juanita had taken the elevator up from their underground home and caught him by surprise.

“Certainly, my lady.” Reaching for the lemonade, he decided something else would be tastier. Juanita was wearing a bikini that showed off her perfect body.

“Forget it! I know that look. I came up to be nice to you, and with it being so beautiful, to enjoy the sun.”

“Okay. I have work to do, anyway.” He tried to grab at her, but she ducked his move and sat down in another lawn chair. Turning back to the screen that appeared to be floating in front of him, he went over the reports once again.

The Jacka council was trying its best to get every penny it could for the ten clans that made up the council. Dan had let loose an army of attorneys and bankers from Earth to monitor business and industry loans from the Gray Panthers. They were keeping everyone as honest as he expected. The importation of new grasses and plants was already helping to recover desert lands at an astounding rate. Farming and forestry were beginning to thrive. The population would no longer need to be controlled because of food shortages.

The Fire Warriors were doing their best to protect the League of Planets. Now that the war was over, though, new threats were materializing. Some planets that still retained warships had turned to piracy. The Fire Warriors had only caught a few of the pirates, and the League was getting frustrated.

When the war ended, the Dixians initially had been content just to return home. Now, they’d decided they wanted to join the galaxy and participate in trade, and they had let their potential new trading partners know that they would not tolerate their ships being disturbed in that pursuit.

Dan was already reading between the lines and realized that if a Dixie ship were damaged or destroyed in League of Planets’ space, they would send their fleet to get justice. He imagined Pierre Gustave Toutant-Beauregard, the grand admiral of the Dixie fleet, rattling his saber for war—even after the Fire fleet had saved his fleet when he attacked the Libra home world.

Back on Earth, the mothballing of the Gray Panthersfleet was going more easily than expected. The ships of the fleet were still one hundred percent operational. They were all in orbit around the moon, their AIs using the droids onboard ship to perform all routine maintenance. Various governments were keeping the Gray Panthers’ attorneys busy, trying to sue for anything they could get before the entire operation was transferred to the lunar base. To the last man, the entire fleet had accepted being reassigned from active duty to positions in the Gray Panthers reserves. With the transition, they were permitted to continue their nanite therapy, thereby keeping their perfect health and immortality.

“Dan, trouble.”

He looked up from the monitor and saw what Juanita was warning him about. A hundred feet away was one of the planet’s few indigenous life-forms.

The creature was almost a foot tall and covered in blue fur. It had strong hind legs that could propel it up to ten feet. Apparently it was a herbivore, since it had a habit of feasting on Dan’s apples.

Dan reached for the old automatic he had by his chair. The ancient .22LR pistol was more noise than anything else. Dan aimed at the creature as it hung upside down from a branch, devouring a McIntosh. The animal was perfectly in his sites when Dan heard Juanita sigh loudly. He squeezed the trigger and the apple exploded. The animal dropped to the ground and hopped toward its hole, making a chittering sound until it disappeared into the ground.

“You can be a real asshole, Dan Daniels,” Juanita said, trying to look mad but smiling in spite of herself.

“Next time I’ll get the little shit, and we can have fresh meat. I wonder what Blue tastes like?” Dan got up, walked over to the tree, and picked up the remains of the apple. He tossed the pieces toward the hole and was rewarded with a loud screech, followed by lots of chittering. He couldn’t help but laugh as he returned to the lawn chair.

As he continued going over the reports, it occurred to him that he should make it possible for the Fire fleet to have AIs for the new ships they had confiscated, to ensure that they could never be used against Earth. This was a political nightmare.
Just the job to give to Short Blade,
he told himself.

Jacka home world

4 April 2129

Short Blade opened his bedroom window for some fresh air and found that his new army was already awake. The two rows of ten single tents were spaced perfectly. One warrior was standing by a fire, waiting for a huge kettle to heat up. The senior sergeant was a couple thousand feet away, drilling the rest of the troops.

“Got yourself an army, I see,” Ramirez called up to him from the barn, where he was drinking his morning coffee. “What are you going to feed them?”

Short Blade just waved as he turned and headed downstairs and out to the warrior who was cooking.

“What are you cooking?”

The warrior seemed surprised by the question. “We weren’t sure if our arrangement with you included food, so the senior sergeant bought enough porridge and bread to last a few days, sir.”

Short Blade was annoyed with himself for not having thought ahead. He decided he should know who his warriors were. “What’s your name? Are you a good cook?”

“I was a field cook for fourteen years, sir. I’m a very good cook. My name is Butcher.”

Short Blade hadn’t noticed until now that the warrior had been standing at attention as they spoke.

“At ease, Butcher. Make a list of what you will need to feed the warriors well, and we’ll go back into town and get it today. If you need anything and the senior sergeant isn’t around, do not hesitate to let me know. You may also tell the human over there,” Short Blade said, pointing in the direction of the barn. “He is my lieutenant.”

With that, Short Blade turned and walked over to where Ramirez was standing.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Ramirez,” he called out as he approached. He smiled at the shocked look Ramirez gave him in return for being addressed as lieutenant.

“You said we needed security for the cows, so I got you your own little army. Do what you want with them. Their NCO is sharp and honorable. If you need more, let him know and he will get as many as you need.

“This’ll be my first time working with indigenous troops,” Ramirez said, unable to hide his excitement. “Looks like they’re all seasoned. Just have to make sure they’ve been seasoned well,”

Short Blade went to the machine shed and uncovered his hover cycle. Hopping on, he balanced the machine before starting it up. The machine vibrated roughly for a minute and then began to purr as he put it into gear.

Keeping the cycle at its preset height of ten inches off the ground, Short Blade followed the trail toward the main road at a leisurely ninety miles per hour as he refamiliarized himself with the machine. The main road was straighter and wider than the trail, so he opened it up to two hundred miles per hour when he saw there was no traffic.

The bottling plant was on the edge of town, away from heavy traffic. Otherwise, Short Blade would have driven a larger transport. With all of the new drivers and heavy equipment operators on most of the main roadways these days, driving was considerably riskier than it used to be. The guard at the gate of the bottling plant waved him through and called to announce Short Blade’s arrival.

Scratch was waiting at the door for him and smiled as he watched his main source of income get off his cycle.

“Greetings, Short Blade. What can I do for you today?” His half-smile seemed almost a sneer.

“I wanted to let you know that I brought in additional cows, so you’ll need to change your schedule to every other day to pick up my milk.”

“That is wonderful news! With the increased quantity, though, I think the price should come down … say, a drop of fifteen percent?”

Short Blade resisted the initial urge to shoot him.

“If you want to drop the price you sell it at, that’s fine, but if I have to take less, I’ll import the machinery from Earth and bottle it myself. And by the way, I also have the connections to distribute it myself.” Short Blade saw that his suggestion was having the desired effect.

“That won’t be necessary, sir. I guess I was just thinking out loud.”

“Well, I plan to make another trip to Earth soon for even more cows, so you might want to start thinking about expanding or finding another bottler to pull your slack.”

A tingle behind Short Blade’s ear indicated that he had an incoming call, so he cut the visit short.

“Short Blade, I’m on my way into your town. Can we talk while I’m there?”

“Yes, Colonel. There’s a new eatery called Little Earth. We can meet there. When will you be here?”

“I’m just outside of town, trying to figure out where to go. The maps haven’t been updated.”

Short Blade shook his head at his father’s inability to use technology. “I’m on the outskirts, on the north end. I’ll wait for you at the bottling factory there.”

Relieved that he didn’t have to drive into town, he wondered why his father wanted to see him.

Before long, the colonel arrived in a large government comfort transport. Obviously, he was doing well. He got out and stretched his arms and legs.

“Greetings, Father. You look well. Your new position must suit you.”

The colonel seemed uncomfortable with what he was about to say. The two had never had an easy time talking with each other, and it had become even worse over the last year or so.

“I need to ask a favor of you, Son. It’s for the Fire fleet.”

Short Blade realized how hard it was for his father to come to him for help, so he decided he would do what he could. For most of his life he’d felt abandoned by his father. Recently, though, he’d found out by accident from a warrior who had served under the colonel that his father had been trying to help him but never let him know.

“Father, if I can help you, I will. I learned why you sent me to the Libra, and I won’t hold a grudge against you anymore. I’ve learned that life is too short. What is it you need?” He was relieved to finally have that off his chest.

“The fleet needs at least a dozen more class-one AIs for new ships they’ve added. The humans know the Dixians will do anything they can to prevent us from improving our fleet, now that the war is over. I hoped you might know a way.” Colonel Blade was thankful that his son had even listened to his proposal.

“I’ll see what I can do. That’s a difficult request. I’ll look into it when I get back to my farm.” Short Blade knew that Dan Daniels would not approve, but he had an idea for a source.

“Thank you, Son.” The colonel surprised Short Blade by leaning down to rub foreheads with him. Short Blade felt a surge of emotion, experiencing a closeness he’d never known with his father before.

Pressing the comm button behind his ear, he called his shuttle’s AI.

“Phoenix, I’ll be back there soon. Please see if you can figure out where I can get a dozen class-one AIs by the time I get there. This request is confidential.” He didn’t hold out any real hope, but he figured it was a good place to start.

As Short Blade watched his father drive off, a liquids truck pulled into the lot. The driver of the truck stared at Short Blade in a way that roused his suspicion, but there was no time now to investigate.

Turning onto the road, Short Blade nearly collided with an inexperienced heavy equipment operator who wasn’t paying attention to the road.
I’ll not die a useless death,
he thought as he opened up the hover cycle to full speed. As he passed the operator, he made an “O” gesture with his paw to insult him.

The trip back to the farm went quickly, and Short Blade noticed as he pulled up that a small shooting range had been set up at the far end of the field where the tents were. It looked like Ramirez and Dias were evaluating the warriors’ shooting skills. He felt pity for the warriors, who would have to learn to shoot well enough to satisfy the two former marines.

Senior Sergeant Knife approached Short Blade and saluted him, human style.

“Sir, I took offense when the young humans said they were going to train me and my warriors, but I was wrong, and I wish to let you know that. They’ve shown us the importance of marksmanship and small unit tactics we hadn’t thought of before. Tonight, we’ll be picketed on the approaches to the farm. We won’t let you down.”

“Thank you, Senior Sergeant Knife. I only like to work with professionals. I have to admit that these marines are the best I’ve ever seen. I would never tell them that, though. I meant to ask you … how is it that your warriors still had full uniforms?”

“They all kept one set of uniforms for when they are returned to the fire. No matter how hard up these warriors became, they still kept their death uniforms.”

Short Blade was taken aback by Knife’s answer, and it gave him a new idea.

“I’ll need the sizes for each warrior. They no longer fight for the Claw Clan. They now serve the House of Short Blade, and I will see to it that they have the best uniforms.”

Ramirez approached, looking like he was in good spirits. “Excuse me, Short Blade, can I have a word?” Senior Sergeant Knife saluted and returned to the warriors.

“What have you got for me, Juan?”

“I think that old senior sergeant of yours could have been in the Corps. He’s a tough bastard and pushes those old guys hard. They’re shaping up on their marksmanship. They never deemed it important before. They only fired volley, then charged. I’m going to go over cover and concealment with them tomorrow. They could use some better weapons—there’s no ability to fire rapidly. I put more lead downrange with an old bolt-action rifle than what these guys have. Maybe find some beamers with only setting one enabled?” 

“Check with Phoenix. Tell him to add the design for a modified beamer like you described to the list of items for the fabricator to produce. Include all accessory equipment to go with it. Be sure to take into account the size of the warriors’ paws when they use the beamers.”

“I’m also going to place eight of the old guys in four sites tonight. If they get in trouble, I’ll have the other twelve guys as a reaction force. I don’t want to see any more cows disappear.”

“That’s a good plan, Juan. Make sure they understand that they are to give a warning before they fire. They don’t have to expose themselves. Did all the cows get milked today?”

“I’ll make sure they understand that. And yes, we got them all milked today. With all the new cows you want to bring in, you might want to look at increasing the acreage and hiring some more humans to work with the cows.”

Juan’s suggestions were valid. Acknowledging to himself that he lacked many of the skills required, Short Blade decided to do what was best for the farm.

“One more thing, Juan. You’re now the full-time foreman of the ranch. If you need something or somebody, go ahead and get it done. Don’t negotiate with the locals. They’ll do their best to cheat you. If I’m not available, then use Knife. I don’t think they would want to make him mad.”

Short Blade felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders by promoting Ramirez. His ear began to vibrate, so he pointed to it to let Ramirez know and faced away to take the call.

“This is Short Blade.”

“Sir, I’ve found a potential source for the class-one AIs. The Dixians have the ability to make class-one AIs but can’t get the material to bring them online. I believe they’re desperate enough to make a trade.”

Short Blade’s temples began to throb at the thought of having to work with the Dixians. They were still unhappy about the role of the Jacka mercenaries during the invasion of their planet. They seemed to have forgotten that the Jacka Fire Fleet later saved the Dixie fleet.

“Now I just need a good excuse to get to the planet—without being destroyed before I can offer my services.”

“Sir, it shouldn’t be a problem. In one week, Scotty Scholl, the retired Earth ambassador to Dixie, will be getting married. You have an invitation in your unread correspondence. That, along with arriving there in a human-built shuttle, should get you to the planet’s surface.”

“And then killed when I exit the shuttle! ‘Only game in town,’ the guys would have said. Send a reply stating that I will attend, and that I hope not to be killed at the dock when I exit my shuttle.”
I wonder if any of the old crew from the Beater will be there?
he thought.

If he was going to get any class-one AIs, he would need to leave first thing in the morning, so he headed to his desk to catch up on paperwork. He wasn’t feeling so confident about the plan in his head.