Tractors for Sale 4

When Carnifor realized his voice had been dampened, he stomped his way into the common room and looked around.

The fighter pilot had a function, but limited. Goofball spent most of his time flying the simulator or, like at the moment,sprawled in a chair, reading. Carnifor looked closer. A magazine called Interstellar. They mostly printed speculative science articles. They’d been predicting for years a better starship engine would come along and make five hundred c look like nothing.

The Marine must be in his quarters. Why a trading ship needed a soldier of questionable ability was beyond Carnifor’s comprehension. They were spies, and much of the crew obviously came from the military. If any enemy looked beyond the surface the William Placard would be doomed.

The lieutenant with the difficult name spoke up. “Want to join us, Commander?” He gestured to the turn-based game he played with the boy.

Carnifor blinked himself back to reality. “No, thank you, Lieutenant.” He wasn’t supposed to use military ranks, but couldn’t remember how to pronounce the man’s name.

What Carnifor really wanted was to distract himself from being so irritated with Lannetay. He ordered a chair a couple of meters away from L-T and Marc, then involved himself in a simulated large-scale space battle in real time. Hundreds of capital ships appeared, and he competed against a Core-generated admiral for supremacy in a star system. He placed the sim between himself and the other two so he could keep watch. Nobody else bothered monitoring the crew. Even the AI seemed heedless of what could happen with such a . . . strange . . . mix of crew mates.

L-T shook his head and turned back to the turn-based game he played with Marc.He moved a cruiser the allowed distance, and pivoted the ship a few degrees. The other ships in that formation followed suit. He moved five other groups of ships, and arranged the firing sequence of their weapons. “Your move.” His words barely reached Carnifor’s ears.

Marc staged his ships, gave the game instructions to fire, and the holo flashed as faux weaponry discharged. Status markers showed damage sustained. “My turn to move first?”

L-T smiled. “Yes. You go first this turn.”

Marc glanced toward Carnifor. “Why doesn’t he like me?”

Carnifor could think of a dozen reasons, but kept them to himself. He affected concentration on his own simulation, wondering what L-T and the brat would come up with.

“I don’t think he likes anyone.” L-T kept his voice low while he studied the commander. “Well, other than himself.”

Because nobody here is worth liking, Carnifor thought to himself. A year ago he’d been undermined by a subordinate, then awarded a medal of honor. The navy had thanked him by stuffing him into a tiny ship for no apparent reason. He’d been trained to command, and should be in charge aboard the ship. Instead he had to take orders from . . . her.

“Why?” the boy asked.

L-T pondered a moment. “I think it might be because he thinks he should be in charge of everything. He’d been a leader of men from the time he could ride a horse, and all his training has reinforced him being at the top of whatever hierarchy he’s in. Now he’s not, and he doesn’t really have anyone to order around.”

That pretty much nails it, Carnifor thought. Though the reasoning was simplistic, it wasn’t inaccurate.

“So he ignores me because I’m not one of his assets?” Marc maneuvered his ships and pointed to L-T to tell him he’d finished.

Carnifor almost laughed. The boy was not an asset at all. More like a liability.

“I guess.” L-T studied the holo. The boy was close to boxing in one of his formations. “You’re good at this game.”

Marc smiled. “Thanks.”

The lieutenant raised his voice a bit. “He’ll give you a run for your money in a couple of years, Carnifor.”

“Ha.” Carnifor concentrated on his own simulation and blocked out the other two. Despite his best efforts his mind kept thinking of the woman in charge of the ship.

***

In the control room, Lannetay ran through options. The Wanti garrison might discover wherever they finally landed, though that seemed unlikely. She may have to lift the ship for Goofball to launch and defend them.

Bill interrupted her thoughts. A Brock Class cutter just launched. It’s flying along our previous course line. They’re scanning heavily, but that class of cutter isn’t known for separating valid returns from ground scatter.

Lannetay didn’t bother turning off the sound dampening field. Put us on the ground, Bill. Make sure there’s a hill between us and them.

Lannetay brought up a holo of the ship and landscape below. The William Placard spun and dropped like a rock into a small valley. They settled without a bump. Nice job, Bill.

Thanks. Powering down the engines.

Think we should notify the rest of the crew? Lannetay watched the power levels on the engines fall to near-zero.

After a brief pause, Bill said, No. They’re all busy, and not harassing us. Let ‘em be.

Show me this hemisphere of Rubineker.

Bill displayed a view of the planet centered on the ship. After a few minutes the line tracing the course of the Brock curved into space and the ship picked up speed. They’ll never see us now.

Lannetay asked, Would it be safe to move the ship?

Should be, Bill sent. Want me to take us to the new colony site?

Lannetay thought for a moment. Head that direction. If you see a good hiding place, put us there. I’m thinking the Wantis will come back to execute a search pattern.

The ship lifted and Bill flew it toward the position they’d be planting the new colony kit. Rubineker didn’t have much tectonic activity, nor much of an atmosphere, so finding cover wouldn’t be easy.

There. Bill flashed a cursor over an area with four spires of stone. They were on the border of the plane where the new colony would be founded. If we slip in there, that cutter shouldn’t pick us up unless they fly right above us.

Lannetay inspected the holo. We should fit, so let’s do it.

Consider it done.

The ship slid over the top of the shortest of the pinnacles and descended. Lannetay watched a feed from the ship’s point of view as the towers climbed higher and higher. What could have caused something like that on this planet?

I’m not sure, Bill replied. I’m not programmed with geological information like that.

The ship settled, and Bill switched off the engines again. If anything could give them away, powered drives would top the list. Now all they had to do was wait.

If you're wondering more about these characters, their origins are detailed in Ebony Sea: Origins. If you appreciate this story, please share on social media, and consider supporting the author's ability to continue writing by purchasing the Origins story and leaving a review at the link above.

The Brotherhood #29

By Mark W. Meier

Part 29

Act IV

Windowed The Soul

Chapter Two

Resonant Frequency

A frequency capable of exciting a resonance maximum in a given body or system.

I exited the elevator with you as Bob Schwartz opened the door on your late model Audi SUV. Anyone should be able to see the humor in having antique furnishings but only the newest model of automobile. For some reason humans found that to be a status symbol, and you were no exception.

“Thank you, Robert.”

He looked a lot like the actor who had played Robert Grantham on British television. You smiled at the thought of an earl holding a car door for you.

You climbed into the third row seat and settled in. Armored windows and door panels kept you safe from imagined enemies. Only a year earlier, however, an executive for your biggest competitor had been assassinated. You were actually innocent of that, despite theories to the contrary. Another of my Brothers had done the deed as a setup for this part of our project.

Earl Audi climbed into the driver’s seat and shifted into gear. “Where to, Mr. Grambic?”

“The Club, Robert.”

The Savannah Yacht Club on the Wilmington River is where you moored your 115’ yacht Resonant Frequency. You’d decided to stay the weekend offshore instead of at your Wilmington Island estate, despite the close proximity of six crew. You’d trained them to avoid you unless called for.

The drive to your club didn’t take long. In less than two hours you were passing Hilton Head on your way to an anchorage a mile offshore from Hunting Island State Park. The water would be calmer there than in the Savannah area.

I watched you and your crew through the night, all day Saturday, and until noon on Sunday. You spent all that time sipping expensive non-alcoholic beverages.

Mostly, though, you lounged on the upper deck, staring out from under the overhang of the sun deck. There you watched the waves in the Atlantic. Getting a “read” on you wasn’t easy, mostly because you did nothing and thought less.

Your well-trained crew knew you’d want to head back right after lunch. Two of them prepared your Sunday luncheon in the small galley, and they chattered aimlessly. Those nearer to you never spoke a word, focusing on their job of attending you and Resonant Frequency.

As one of your crew brought up your summer berry salad, fennel salmon, and a cucumber roll, the rest gathered in the galley for their own lunch of burgers and caviar. You couldn’t stand the salty treat most rich people favored and only kept it on hand in case a rare guest might want it. With your stay aboard coming to a close, someone had to eat it.

After almost an hour you finished eating and surveying the rolling ocean. You waved for a steward to take your plates away, which she did without a word. Her turn for lunch, and the pilot would get you underway in a few minutes.

As you passed Port Royal Sound another yacht moved out into the Atlantic. Yours moved along at a leisurely ten knots, and the other slowly gained on you. Ten minutes later you could make out the name Justice Given on its starboard side.

Justice was owned by one of the associate supreme court justices in Georgia. He’d been the only dissenting voice in a case you’d won the previous year. You didn’t recall many of the details. Only this: liability for an injury caused by a faulty ceiling tile falling on a child.

You climbed out of your deck chair and stretched, then meandered forward to the bridge.

“Adam.”

The pilot gave a startled look over his shoulder. You’d never spoken to Panicked Pilot, and the fact you knew his name doubled the shock. He didn’t know you associated his name with the asymmetrical Adam’s apple in his throat.

“Yes, sir?”

“I don’t think we should let Justice Given overtake us, do you?”

Hilton Head passed on your starboard, and Judge Boynton came up on your port beam.

“As you wish, Mr. Grambic.” Panicked Pilot edged the throttle ahead and Resonant Frequency moved up to fourteen knots. Justice fell sternward a few feet.

A minute later the engine noise from Justice increased and the yacht gained on you a fraction. Panicked Pilot looked to you for permission first, then pushed the throttle open a bit more. With Frequency going fifteen knots the shorter and wider Justice fell further behind. Boynton’s pilot edged back to their normal cruising speed.

You smiled. “Ease us back, Adam. No sense straining things if they’ve given up.” You ambled aft and stood at the rail to watch the slower yacht fall further back.

Instead of docking at the yacht club you decided to stop at your home on Wilmington Island. The crew could take Frequency back, and one of them would tell your chauffeur to bring the car. You were too pleased at winning your race with Boynton to deal with the delay of getting home through traffic.

That’s what gave me the idea.

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Tractors for Sale 3

Carnifor, barely a meter behind, couldn’t match Lannetay’s stealth, but kept pace until they rounded another building. The airlock stood only five meters ahead. Nearly there, Carnifor slowed.

Lannetay hissed as a pair of privates approached the airlock from one side. With their rifles strapped to their backs, the soldiers obviously didn’t expect resistance. Lannetay ran toward the two and drove a knee into the solar plexus of the nearest. The other staggered back in surprise, scrambling to bring his rifle to bear.

Lannetay spun, dress flying, and planted a kick into the Wanti’s face. He flew backward, blood from a broken nose spattering the ground.

Carnifor stopped next to the first fallen Wanti who gasped for breath on the sandy surface. “Will they be okay?”

“Yes, but they’ll be in pain and a whole lot of trouble.” Lannetay hoisted the first soldier into a sitting position, wrapped an arm around his neck, and grabbed her opposite bicep. Her other hand went behind the man’s head. He feebly fought back for a moment, then slipped into unconsciousness.

“Did you have to do that?” Carnifor stood, feet apart, fists on hips.

“Yes.” Lannetay stepped up to the airlock. When it opened, she stepped in and waited for Carnifor.

Carnifor scooped up a fallen blaster rifle and slid into the lock as the hatch swung closed. A shout sounded from the dome just before the opening sealed shut.

The two activated their support belts. She wondered how long it would take for the outside hatch to open. Blaster bolts hammered the inner hatch. If Wantis managed to blow a hole through that hatch, safeties would keep the outer closed.

Pressure in the lock slowly dropped, one agonizing second after another. When the outer hatch cracked open Lannetay squeezed through. Carnifor followed just as the inner hatch burst. The outer hatch fought to close against air pressure and Carnifor’s support belt force field. He managed to pull himself outside before the hatch slammed shut.

Bill, come get us. Now. Lannetay scanned the surrounding landscape. Nobody yet.

“Here they come.” Carnifor pointed to another dome two hundred meters away.

Soldiers in space armor poured out of a wide airlock. They formed into groups of five and spread out into an arc to surround Lannetay and Carnifor.

Carnifor brought his captured rifle up and snapped off three quick shots. Wantis scrambled for cover. “Run for the ship.”

Lannetay ran as a group of Wantis brought their rifles to bear. Dirt and rocks kicked up around her as blaster bolts hit the ground or flew past. Bill, we’re running. A glancing bolt spanged as it ricocheted off her support belt’s force field. A gout of air slipped out before the field could close up again – replenished by the compressed oxygen in the belt itself.

I’ll be there in a few seconds, Bill replied. Carnifor, you’d better pick up the pace. Lannetay’s getting too far ahead of you, and it won’t be long before they launch a cutter to tear us to pieces.

Carnifor backed away from the colony domes. He spread blaster bolts around to keep the Wantis from flanking him.

Carnifor, Bill yelled, Duck!

Carnifor threw himself flat as the massive shape of the William Placard shot by, barely a meter above the ground. Wantis scattered in disarray, some dropping their weapons in haste.

The ship settled to the ground between Carnifor and Lannetay, each sprinting for airlocks on opposite sides of the ship. Carnifor dove inside. I’m in.

A few seconds later Lannetay climbed in. Me, too.

The outer hatches sealed and pressure built. Lannetay’s support belt sputtered a moment, then switched itself off. “That’s going to need fixing, Bill. They almost got me.”

Marc was there, looking worried. Lannetay wanted to hug him, but in the last couple of weeks he’d stopped being a “hugging” person. Lannetay gave a brave smile instead.

“You okay, Mom?”

“I’m fine, hon. Bill, take us east for now. We’ll circle around when we’re out of range of the colony’s sensors.”

Carnifor tossed the Wanti blaster to Olthan. “Take care of this.”

Olthan glanced at the weapon and scoffed at the Hobart-90. “Ain’t givin’ out the good stuff no more, eh?”

“Maybe you can improve it.” Carnifor turned to Lannetay. “Now what?”

Lannetay paused to watch L-T and her son walk off, purposely waiting to answer Carnifor. He had a tendency to be overbearing, even more so when under pressure. “As I said, when we get out of range of the colony’s sensors we’ll circle back.”

“Why in the world would we go back?” Carnifor was aghast. “There’ll be at least one ship coming to kill us. Even if it’s only a cutter and barely a fraction of our size, it could carve us to pieces.”

Lannetay turned stony. “I know what a cutter is, how it’s likely armed, and how much faster they are. I’ve had some experience, after all.”

Carnifor gaped. “Then why?”

Lannetay gave a frustrated sigh and brushed past on her way to the control room. “A number of reasons. First, the Wantis will never expect it. Second, if we run for deep space, any ship will easily see us, catch up, and tear us apart. Third,” she stopped at the opening hatch and spun to face Carnifor, “it’s the right thing to do. We sold them tractors, and we have to deliver them.”

The two moved forward and sat as Bill said, “We’re out of range of any colonial scans.”

Lannetay nodded and brought up a holographic map of the area. “Turn south, and stay low, Bill.” She highlighted a flat area surrounded by high bluff land. “This is where Pop suggested we deploy the colony kit.”

“That’s only sixteen klicks south of their domes. She said twenty.” Carnifor indicated another place a few kilometers to the southwest. “This is probably the one they wanted.”

Lannetay shook her head. “These folks are groundlings. Sixteen kilometers straight-line is a lot closer to twenty by ground. That’s the place.” She speared the holo with a finger.

“If you say so.” Carnifor didn’t seem convinced. The place he’d pointed out was only twenty-one klicks from the farms of Pop Colony.

“Bill, program a pattern for planting the nanite canisters.” Lannetay leaned back. “Take the long way there. I’m taking a nap.” She knew sleep would elude her, but she needed time to think without Carnifor’s blustering.

“You’re going to sleep?” Carnifor stood, looming over her.

Bill, cancel all sound in the control room. Lannetay closed her eyes. Carnifor kicked off another rant, but the volume ramped down so all she heard was an indistinct rumbling.

If you're wondering more about these characters, their origins are detailed in Ebony Sea: Origins. If you appreciate this story, please share on social media, and consider supporting the author's ability to continue writing by purchasing the Origins story and leaving a review at the link above.