Galactic Freighter: Scourge of the Deep Space Pirates (Contact) (20 page)

The man paused considering his response. "Sir, I will follow your orders."

Chapter Twenty:
The Hunt Begins

B
uck, followed by Ivan Dovacec, walked into the gym, and watched the SEALS honing their hand-to-hand combat skills. "Care to try one of us, Lord Fryman?" asked the SEAL. "I understand you're pretty good in a fight. We can see how we match up." It was as much a challenge as request.

"I'm sure you guys are far beyond anything I can handle. I would like to learn this kind of fighting. Never know when it might come in handy."

"No better time than now. There are sweats in the locker room. Let's give it a try."

Buck agreed and shortly appeared in clothes a size too small, making him look ever larger. He ignored the snickers, stepped onto the mat as the SEALS cleared and watched from the edge.

After some routine stretching, Buck followed Rasby through a few elementary moves. "Let's try them. Go slow, level one," said the officer. Level one meant if an opponent went down, he or she was allowed to regain their feet

He and Buck circled testing the other. Buck's size gave him the reach advantage. To him that meant the SEAL would try to go underneath and take his legs. Buck tempted him, teasingly offered his left leg. Anticipating the commander's move, Buck withdrew the target and drove his fist into the man's back, knocking him to the mat destroying the attempt.

Rasby worked his shoulders, removing the stiffness the blow inflicted. Buck smiled as the Commander remained stoic. Again, they circled each other. Buck made a feint toward Rasby then moved to the side. Rasby recognized it wasn't a real thrust, when Buck repeated the maneuver, the commander reacted too slowly. This time Buck continued the plunge taking the man down."

"That's enough for one day," Buck said. "I'm already winded."

"Don't I get a chance to redeem myself," said the SEAL apparently sure he could.

"Next time," Buck responded satisfied Rasby would ratchet up his attacks.

In the locker room, changing into his fatigues, the SEAL asked Buck where he'd learned to fight.

"Just being a freighter sometime you can't avoid a scrap. I took a few lessons in street fighting. Looks like it paid off. You're a natural at fighting. I'm not, never will be." His comment wasn't a dig at the SEAL.

"Maybe I could learn a few things from you."

For the first time, Buck thought perhaps he had been too hasty in judging whether the man could get along with him. He returned to his quarters, showered and went to bed. While the match lasted only a few minutes, as out of shape as he was, it had exhausted him. Few bar fights lasted over one or two blows, or at least his, but his fatigue was a clear signal, he needed to spend more time in the gym.

Buck arose early and with some new aches, strode onto the bridge as the astrogator said, "Approaching the coordinates."

"Comm sweep for an electronic trail," ordered Danko and then greeted Buck as the Lord took his chair next to the Captain's. He waited as the operator worked the icons.

"Got some piecemeal electronic signatures and vectors," radar reported. "No way to tell for sure which vector belongs to the raiders. Too many ships trafficked through the area."

Buck studied the plot board. Punching at the chair arm icons, he called up the plats for the surrounding area.

"Got any idea where they're headed?" Danko asked.

"Nope, not a clue. I've never been in this sector." Buck punched the comm, "Tommy, come to the bridge."

Minutes later, Tommy Simms stepped through the hatch. "Yes, Sir. Whatcha need?"

"Your recollections, master engineer," Buck said.

Tommy laughed, "Don't want much do ya, my Lord?"

"Take a look at these plots. As I recall, you were in this area before," Buck said and cast a knowing eye at the man.

Tommy spent some time familiarizing himself. "Kinda remember something. Yeah, I been here. Long time ago." He scratched his thinning gray hair, then his chin. "Falter's Point: one of the few planets with people on it in that area. Open port. Lots of tough guys. Rough place as I recall."

Approaching the planet, the Molly Celeste heeled over and shed velocity. Buck commed the SEAL commander. "We're going dirtside. You and one man to accompany me," and added, "in civvies and no weapons except the pilot. We'll take the shuttle." He commed Tommy and told him to join them.

"Must still be an open port," Danko said. "No orbit master. I guess we just pick our spot." Molly Celeste eased onto orbit as Buck prepared to go dirtside.

At the shuttle, the commander asked, "Four? I thought it would be just the three of us. Can this guy fight like you?" Buck gave the man a look meant to quell any further questions.

"Lord Fryman, my man and I each have a knife strapped on our backs," said the Commander matter-of-factly. "I will tell you, Sir, I have never gone into an unknown situation without a weapon of some sort. It's against our training."

"Thank you for telling me, Commander. Let's hope you don’t need them." He would defer to the SEAL this time and count on the man's judgment to use the weapon judiciously if they got into trouble. Buck acknowledged the second SEAL was the Commander's responsibility and asking someone to be unarmed in a hostile environment was something he wasn't prepared to do. He suspected Tommy had a bludgeon hidden somewhere.

Once clear of the Molly Celeste, Buck said, "We're after information and don't want to give away our real reason for being here. Tommy and I will do the talking."

Leaving the pilot in charge of the shuttle, Buck exited last into the chaos surrounding the landing site. He wondered what, if any, government Falter's Point had. Unchallenged, he told the pilot to stay in the launch and lock the hatch. They left the tarmac and hired and aircar.

"Driver." Tommy leaned forward to make himself heard. "Take us ta a friendly bar. We're dry as a Foraken bone. Been in space for months and nary a drop."

"Friendly? You must be new to this place," the driver said. "There ain't nothin' friendly here."

"Then take us where you go for a drink," Tommy countered. "That oughta be good 'nough."

"Okay, that'll be one credit. Put it in the slot." A blaster proof plasti-shield separated the driver from his fares, more evidence it was less than a friendly place.

Tommy did as instructed. "Little expensive," he said.

"Everything on this dump is high. Costs a bundle to live a halfway decent life," the cabby sternly responded.

"Who runs the place?" Buck asked.

"There's a council. Three people, elected. No political parties."

"Anythin' excitin' goin' on?" Tommy asked.

"Like what?" asked the uninterested driver.

"We heard some high-falutin' guy got killed on his ship," responded Buck.

"Yeah, I heard something like that. Seems he was a prince or something."

"That shoulda caused a big stir," Tommy chimed.

"Happens all the time around here: someone getting killed that is. Only difference with this one was the guy was onboard his ship and a prince. Leastways that's what I heard. Seems there's a war going on and he was the killed to change someone's mind." Their driver pulled up to a dilapidated building. "Here it is. Don't get into it with anyone. It's not as tough as most places but that don't mean it's your shipboard gedunk either. Just mind your own business and you should have a peaceable drink or two."

They left the airtaxi and strode inside the tavern. Buck and his group looked around for a place to sit in the dimly lit bar. Rasby pointed toward an empty table. Reaching it, Ivan grabbed a chair and sat.

"Beat it. That's our table," a gruff voice said from behind them.

Ivan stood, towering over his antagonist.

Buck, not wanting trouble, motioned for Ivan to move. Tommy found another table in the center of the room and they made their way to it.

The conversation focused on their embarrassment. "I don't like to be pushed around," Rasby said menacingly.

"None of us does," Tommy agreed. "But we got more important matters ta 'tend ta."

Buck looked up as a man approached.

He leaned close and said, "Thanks for not starting something. I own the place and have enough trouble with the goon squads. Those guys," he gave a slight nod toward the other table, "are always looking for someone to jump. From the looks of your clothes, they must think you're a carrying something worthwhile. Watch yourselves when you leave."

Buck invited the man to join them.

"Glad to, not very busy tonight." He sat and introduced himself.

Small talk went back and forth for a few minutes. "We just made orbit today and probably won't be here long," Buck told the bar keep. "Just taking a break."

Goon squad?" questioned Rasby. "Are they what this place calls their police?"

"Not police," the owner said. He had opened the bar a couple of years ago. "Goons, vigilantes nothing but pure trouble and hired by the do-gooders. They don't care what it takes to stop a fight. ‘Cleaning up the place,’ so they say. I can tell you they don't stand a chance. This place is lost. They could move all of us off and bring back the decent people. All people and that includes the scum that run it; bringing them back isn't going to change a thing."

"Do-gooders on this place," Tommy said with a laugh. "Don't seem ta fit."

"I'd agree but that's the way it is," the barman retorted.

"Anything of interest going on?" Buck asked.

"Not on this rock. There was a hijacking and killing a while back. That isn't unusual except this time it seems they got a royal somehow tied into a war way over at the end of another sector. Places I've never heard of."

Causally, Buck pumped the man for over an hour. The conversation waned and he decided it was time for them to leave. "Any decent eating places close by where we can get a good meal? Space cooking gets old in a hurry."

Told where they could get a dinner, the man called them an airtaxi, and repeated his warning to be alert.

Just as the bar owner had predicted, the six men who claimed their first table confronted them outside.

"You ain't goin' nowhere unless you go through us," one man said as he stepped forward.

Buck tried to talk his way past the men. It looked like he might be successful until one made a mistake, grabbed the Lord's arm, and got a fist on the side of his head that dropped him in his tracks. Not to miss out, Rasby grabbed one man, threw him with a hip slam, and laid a right cross on his chin. Tommy, Ivan, and the other SEAL weighed in and in seconds, all six men lay unconscious, two in the gutter the rest on the sidewalk.

Buck and his band got in the arriving aircab and left before the Goon Squad arrived.

"Those two you hit," Rasby said, "will need surgery to fix their faces. I've never seen anyone hit so hard. They dropped like grav-boots on a steel hull."

Buck nodded.

A few hours later, the returning crew stepped onto the Molly Celeste hanger deck having forgone a dirtside dinner.

Chapter Twenty-One:
The Chase

U
sing coordinates they’d gained from the bar owner, Danko laid in the course to the nearest planet. At least three months behind, Buck had no illusions they would find the prince’s killers anytime soon.

Making the best use of their time in space, he practiced hand-to-hand fighting with different SEAL team members. Each brought something different, some unique tactics. He learned from all of them and was unsurprised that they learned from him as well.

"Lord Fryman," said the SEAL commander, "this trip is a good thing for me and my men. I thought we knew all there was to know in hand-to-hand combat. You've shown me differently."

"Ha, it isn't a one way street, Commander. Nothing special here Commander, I just slugged the guy. Your people know fighting as an art form. Not that killing should be put in that category."

"You don't approve of us," said the Seal.

"I don't approve of us having a need for your skills. It means we're no better today that we were millennia ago. Doesn't say much for mankind."

"A philosopher."

"No, a pragmatist. I know we need you."

After Buck left the gym, the SEAL said to Tommy, "I don't know how to take the guy."

Simms reminded the Commander that Buck had led more men into combat that he ever would and had seem more men die on his orders. That put an end to the less than erudite discussion.

After a shower and change of clothes, Buck stepped through the hatch onto the bridge and took his chair. He punched an icon and reviewed the reports filed by each man who had accompanied him to Falter's Point.

Two days later, "Coming up on another planet," said radar. "Be there in four T-hours at current velocity."

Buck called Tommy to the bridge, brought up the sector charts, and studied them.

"Either of you been here?"

Danko shook his head, as did Tommy who called up some data. "Take a look at this." Tommy pointed to a spot.

"Mentioned in a comm from one of our Navy frigates," Buck said. "Almost ten years old." No one spoke as the three studied the chart in detail.

"It ain't no open port; requires prior permission even to orbit," Tommy said. "Ain't very friendly, are they?"

"From open port to a closed one," Danko said. "I've never seen anything like this. Probably their attempt to keep Falter's Point people away."

Comm called the system, identifying the ship, and that they were a freighter from Iona.

It took some time for the response. "Molly Celeste, this is
Seltsam
Space Control, hold your present position."

"At least they didn't tell us to space," Danko said. "Maybe—"

"Molly Celeste," the speaker interrupted, "Standby to be boarded for inspection."

"How 'bout that," Tommy chimed. "Maybe we're special."

That brought laughter across the bridge. Buck and Danko didn't share in the hilarity.

Two hours later, a shuttle landed in Molly Celeste's hangar bay.

Danko met the inspectors and offered any assistance they might require. Buck monitored the hanger bay activities from the bridge.