Sleeping in the Stars Page 9

  “It’s not being tied down. Look at me and your mother. You know that we have had a wonderful life, travelling and visiting multiple planets. Spending time exploring Humanity’s various cultures.”

  “Yes. But you are an interplanetary ambassador. It’s your job.”

  “It could be yours. If you settle down. I could continue your education in diplomacy. Politics.”

  Pausing to take a sip of her champagne, pausing to prepare herself to once again reject her father, Keiko answered, “You know that that is not me. I just can’t do it.”

  “Well, you must find something to do. You can’t be a gadabout your whole life. You need to settle down. Have a family.”

  “Not now, Father. Maybe later.”

  “Think about it. It’s time.”

  With another unfulfilled conversation with his only daughter, his only child, the interplanetary ambassador turned and rejoined to his social jousting.

  Chapter 3

  Aboard Griffin

  Tossing his pack on the passenger seat, Krag gave one last look at the saloon and wondered about the future. Could he create a home? Could he learn to fit into a civilian community? With a shrug and grimace, he climbed into the quad and headed back to the shuttle port. Once there, he loaded up and locked down the quad, dropped into the pilot chair and lifted off for Griffin.

  Back in Griffin’s command pod, with hands moving and pausing over the controls on the control board and eyes shifting from one status gauge to the next, Krag and Buster did a full launch check, increased engines and slowly lifted from the lake. Anyone watching would have seen the black-skinned ship hover for a moment, re-orient to an escape angle and accelerate away, vaporizing large amounts of water and pulling more water with it from the vacuum of air it left behind.

  Shar heard the noise, came out of the saloon and watched the jet plume as Krag Marston went back to doing whatever he did. She looked at the note, hoped it would be true and went back to work.

  Two hours later, approaching the hyper-space gate Buster announced, “Captain, the two police cruisers have just exited the dead-end gate. They must have reversed course about a day in.”

  “Great. We get to run, again. Have they seen us?”

  “They just re-vectored and are accelerating to maximum thrust. They have seen us.”

  “At their maximum speed, how long until they get here?

  “About fifteen hours.”

  “They’re probably calling ahead, now. There’ll be a welcoming party when we exit. But, we have to get away from Tolimar. I don’t want the Fed to take an interest out here. We’ve got eleven days to plan something. Enter the gate.”

  Yes, Sir.”

  One millisecond the Griffin was running through normal space the next it was gone. The cruisers targeted the singularity and sped towards the hyper-space gate, once again being the hammer, driving the fast little ship into an anvil.

  * * * * *

  For ten days, Krag put his plan into practice. Utilizing Buster’s avatar for brute force labor, he set about destroying the shuttle. The quad had been removed from the shuttle and a particle cannon had been added to the shuttle’s nose. The shuttle’s rear ramp had been removed and a decoy had been pushed in, strapped and welded to the shuttle’s floor. Now the shuttle had far too much engine, its own and that of the decoy. Krag spent the eleventh day going over all of the modifications, rechecking the flight algorithms for pattern recognition and weapons control. He deemed the shuttle as ready as it could be.

  Krag spent the rest of the day insuring that everything else in the Griffin was secure and shake-resistant. An hour before the ship exited the hyper-space gate, Krag donned his weapons helmet, climbed in and activated the pilot pod then engaged the weapons controls.

  “Buster, release the shuttle and accelerate it through the hole. I want at least a thirty minute window before we exit.”

  “Yes, Sir.” After a short pause, “Shuttle is away, and adding its acceleration thrust to our current one. Both the decoy and shuttle engines are running true.”

  “That’s one less worry. As soon as we break out, maximize the sensor dampeners and defense deflectors. Then pick a vector one hundred-eighty degrees to the shuttle vector and go to maximum speed. I don’t care what direction, just push us to the limit.”

  “Yes, Sir. May I point out that we could achieve more speed without the deflectors?”

  “I know. But I don’t know what we are getting into. So, we’ll stay with the deflectors. Once we have some distance then we’ll shut them down.”

  “Sir.”

  During the conversation, Krag fervently activated the command console and monitors, brought the targeting and weaponry on line. Then he settled in for the short wait.

  * * * * *

  The shuttle broke out of the gate ring and immediately shut off its main engine, leaving the decoy’s engine as its only thrust and only identifying signature. Upon exiting, the proximity algorithm located ten police cruisers and fired ten particle beams at them. Continuing to analyze the surrounding space, the shuttle’s computer calculated a vector of least resistance, turned towards that heading and pushed the decoy thrusters past the red line. This all happened in less than a millisecond, faster than anyone on the cruisers could react. After a brief pause, all ten captains of those cruisers ordered full pursuit. The shuttle and its decoy wouldn’t last long. But it would last long enough.

  Thirty minutes later, the Griffin blasted out from the gate and into Arium space. Buster plotted the shuttle’s path, redirected one hundred eighty degrees in the other direction and went to a full burn. The police cruisers never had a chance of catching the fleet little ship. They destroyed the shuttle, the captains reported their failures, shrugged it off and redeployed to fight other space bandits.

  Fleeing towards open space, Krag thought, I got lucky. If those ten police cruisers had been three star fighters, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. Thank God for inter-department squabbles.”

  “Well, Buster, let’s go find Gregor, give him his baubles and get paid.”

  “There’s a singularity that connects to the Corrinar system. That, in turn has one that will get us to Novius through Bridgelen, Captain. I’ve turned on the gravity dampeners, Sir. You may exit the pod, now.”

  “Plot the course. Stay at maximum speed until we get to the first hole. We’ll plan the next leg after that.” Krag said this while cracking open the pilot pod, and stowing the helmet. Then he continued to sit, staring through the forward port, looking at the stars.

  Once again, Krag was saved by his ship and his AI. So far, he had been able to run away from danger. Krag knew that, without the illegal upgrades and pirated equipment, he would have been run down and imprisoned or been turned into so much stardust a long time ago. And he knew that the day would come when he would not be able to run, but would need to fight. Sitting in the flight chair, the smuggler Krag Marston remembered back to what started this path that he now travelled.

  Krag Marston-5 Years Ago

  First and foremost, Krag Marston piloted. That was all he knew. He needed a ship. It took him a year, but he found one.

  After the raid and murder of the rebellious civilians, Major Marston went back to policing the Federacy with anger in his heart and a plan in his head. Pirates were raiding along a corridor through a star system on the edge of the Federacy. A rapid deployment carrier, with Major Marston and his wing aboard, was assigned to eliminate the criminals. When the wing deployed, it broke into three pairs, dispersing across the system, all sensors active, searching for the enemy of the Federacy. The Major and his wingman were circling a gas giant when two ships ambushed them from behind one of its moons. The raiders were on them in seconds. Buster threw Krag’s fighter into emergency evasion maneuvers while his wingman broke away and did the same. Both enemy fighters attacked the wingman. Before Marston got into the fray, one of the bandits had holed the wingman’s fighter, tearing off the nose and killing the pilot instantly. In a second, t
he Federacy star fighter became so much flotsam spinning off into space. Marston had finished coming about and ran down the first pirate. With a single burst of the laser cannon, he burned through the enemy’s hull, hit the engines and passed through the fireball as the pirate ship exploded. The second pirate tried to flee, but Marston chased him down. Once within range, the major acquired target lock and fired a missile at his prey. Heeling over, he was gratified to see the fireball expand as he went in search of his wingman’s derelict fighter.

  Planning for the future, Major Marston tagged the wreck, plotted its projected vector and called in that two hostiles were destroyed, as well as his wingman. Krag didn’t feel anything about the loss of one of his wing. They had all been involved with the civilian massacre. They had all gone back to the carrier, grabbed drinks and food in the galley then spent the evening bragging about their kills, the number of ground vehicles destroyed, the details of their strafing runs. Major Krag Marston felt absolutely nothing about losing his wingman. He did not feel that he had lost one of his own. He almost felt as though he had lost one of the enemy.

  Circling back towards the gas giant’s moon, Marston picked up a signature from a small ship attempting to hide in the umbra of its shadow. The fool had attempted to go dark, powering down everything to remove the electronic foot print, but he had left the life support blazing like a candle in the night. Charging over the top of the ship, the major snapped a one-eighty, fired the reverse thrusters and ended up nose-on with the expensive, executive ship.

  “Ahoy, the ship,” Krag announced over a broad spectrum, narrow band directed at his target. “If you do not respond in five seconds you will be fired upon.”

  It took less time than that. “I’ve done nothing wrong. You have no right to stop me in open space.” The fear in his voice belied his statement.

  “You were in the vicinity of known pirates. Your ship has no identification transponder. Prepare to be boarded for inspection.”

  “You have no right,” was the reply.

  “Yes I do. You are in command of an illegally unregistered ship. Who are you?”

  “I am Captain Brady. The owner of the ship is on board. He’ll get it registered. Just give me the ticket and let us go,” the captain babbled.

  This is a military operation. You will be boarded. How many people are on board?” the major asked.

  “Four of us. The owner, a steward a maintenance engineer and myself.”

  “Buster, is your avatar ready for a spacewalk and hostile confrontation?” Marston sub-vocalized to the AI.

  “Yes, major. Per protocol, I prepped it the moment we deployed from the carrier.”

  “Deploy, notify me when you are at the entry port.”

  Double bay doors opened on the bottom of the Federacy star fighter. The seven foot avatar drifted down and, using the control thruster, oriented towards the target ship. Once aligned, Buster’s avatar sent an electronic pulse to the thruster pack and vectored towards the unknown ship. The avatar didn’t need any space gear, other than the thruster pack. It also wore a tool pack on its chest, a Taser pistol in a holster and carried a pulse rifle.

  “Captain Brady, I am sending over an android to inspect your ship. If you attempt to flee or show any hostility I will destroy you where you stand. Is that understood?”

  “I understand,” came the reply.

  By this time Buster’s avatar had arrived at the entry port. “I have reached the ship and am at the air lock.”

  “Captain Brady, open the air lock or I will have the android cut into your ship.”

  The panel by the lock switched from red to green and the portal slid into the bulkhead. Buster entered the air lock, rifle at the ready, angled at forty-five degrees, held against its chest. The outer door closed, a rushing of air filled the small room, the light on the internal panel turned green and the entry portal slid open.

  “Entrance achieved,” Buster announced to the Major. Facing the avatar stood a tall, slender man, dressed in white captain’s garb, pistol in hand, pointing at the deck.

  “If you do not drop the weapon, I will be forced to respond,” Buster stated. Standard hostile contact algorithms dictated Buster’s command.

  When the pirate captain saw the seven foot android, heavily armed and standing at the ready, he squatted, set the pistol on the deck, slowly raised both hands and stood back up.

  “Major, the Captain is secured.”

  “Bring up your video. Let’s see what we’ve got. Give me left and right scans.”

  Following the Major’s command, Buster first focused on the causeway leading to the bridge then the other direction towards the stern of the ship.

  “Secure all of the civilians and let me know when you are done.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Find the owner first.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Turning back to the captain, Buster asked, “Where is the owner?”

  “Amid ship, in the executive quarters.”

  “Take me there,” the avatar commanded.

  The two of them proceeded towards the bow, Captain Brady leading, Buster alertly scanning for any threats. They passed through the four crew’s quarters, one of which had been converted to a prison cell, and reached a bulkhead. On the hatch was a gold name plate inscribed with ‘Commander Johnathan Rice’.

  “Commander Rice,” Brady pressed the intercom button. “I’m coming in. Don’t do anything rash. There’s a combat droid here.” The captain released the button and dropped his arms, the posture of resignation.

  Repressing the button, Buster ordered, “Place all weapons in front of you, on the floor. Kneel down and clasp your hands on your head. I will kill anyone who is not in compliance when I enter.” Again, Buster’s logic routines dictated his actions. Turning to the captain, the war machine continued, “Open the door, Captain Brady.”

  Buster lowered the plasma rifle and pointed it at the center of the door. The hatch slid open revealing two men kneeling on the floor. Through Buster’s shoulder cam, Major Marston saw two men on their knees, hands on their heads. One was fairly overweight, dressed in expensive clothes, jewelry on hands, wrists and ears. The other was obviously the hired help. He wore a steward’s uniform, complete with cap.

  “Buster, did I see a jail cell on the way in?”

  “Yes, Major, you did.”

  “Let’s put our guests, there. Find the mechanic and put him there, also. Then, go to the bridge.”

  “Yes, Sir.

  “Captain, where is the fourth member of the crew?” Buster asked, swinging the rifle between the prisoners.

  “In the engine room,” was the answer.

  “The major wants you in the prison cell. Captain, put your hands on your head. All of you, move out.”

  After the four, three prisoners and one android, reached the cell, Major Marston spoke to Buster. “Have them all strip down and leave the clothes outside the cell. Then, do a full body search.”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the AI’s avatar.

  “Captain, you first. Take off all of your clothes and any jewelry.”

  “How dare you,” blustered the owner.

  “Buster, tell them it’s that or you burn them down where they stand.”

  “Captain, you and the rest each have a choice. Strip bare or be shot” Buster explained. “Captain, choose,” Buster demanded while leveling the rifle at his midsection.

  Without hesitation, Captain Brady completely stripped, including his rings and wrist pad. Buster motioned with the rifle for the captain to enter the cell.

  Pointing the rifle at the steward, no words were needed. The steward followed suit and entered the cell.

  Buster looked at the ship’s owner. “And you, Sir. What is your choice?”

  Pausing for just a moment and glaring belligerently at the android, the owner stripped, removed multiple rings, necklaces and ear studs. Moving into the cell, he turned towards the door, crossed his arms and continued his glare.

  E
yeing the door, Buster saw that the locking mechanism was electronic. Making a fist, the AI smashed the control panel. A clunk was heard as the dead bolt extended into door

  Looking at each of the three prisoners, Buster admonished, “I will kill any of you that leave this cell. Is that understood?” Three heads nodded.

  The avatar turned and headed towards the stern of the ship and came to the bulkhead that led to the engine room.

  Testing the latch, Buster reported, “The engine room is locked, Major.”

  “Cut in, Buster.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Holding the plasma rifle on his hip with one hand, Buster reached into his utility belt, extracted the hand laser he was going to use to cut into the ship and set it on high. Pointing it at the bottom hinge, the avatar pressed the ignition trigger and burned the hinge in half. Buster repeated the process twice more. Returning the cutter to its pouch, he took a step back, turned sideways, with the rifle pointing cross-bodied at the hatch and threw a side thrust kick at the side where the hinges had been cut. The bulkhead pivoted off the lock and crashed at an angle.

  Using its search and destroy protocols, landing forward, the avatar dropped to a kneeling sniper position and swept the opening, using the laser sight as a tracking tool. The first sweep looked clear. Rising to a semi-crouch and rifle at the ready, the AI moved forward through the opening. At his second step a single static crackle came from his left and striking the avatar’s head with an electrical pulse. That shot would have killed a man. It would have incapacitated a civilian android. But Buster’s avatar was a military grade combat android. The plastiskin on the left side of its face burned off but the exoskeleton underneath dispersed the electrical charge to capacitors in its feet. As fast as the android was hit, it turned, sighted and fired. The ball of superhot plasma burned into the upper right chest cavity and part of the spine of the assailant. The mechanic died before he even knew he was shot.

  Walking over to the corpse, Buster radioed the Major. “Sir, the mechanic resisted. He is dead.”