Gray Panthers Captain Short Blade Read online

  Gray Panthers: Captain Short Blade

  By David Guenther

  Gray Panthers: Captain Short Blade

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by David E. Guenther

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, June 2016

  Prologue

  In December 2128, the war with the Libra Alliance ended when the Dixie fleet diverted an asteroid into the Libra home world, killing nearly all life there. The collapse of the Libra Alliance created a major power vacuum. Old enemies that had been kept in check by the Alliance soon were once again at war with each other. Navy ships without homes became pirates. The restored League of Planets, now with a strong fleet and army, prepared to incorporate planets that had been part of the Libra Alliance into the league, by force if necessary. The Dixians, sick of war, were content to pick up life where it left off when the war began, though some members of the government desired more. The Gray Panthers of Earth began to mothball their fleet, safe behind their allies and strong defenses.

  Old and young started to look for opportunities. One had it harder than most. As a baby, the Jacka runt Short Blade had survived a religious ritual his race used to cleanse their society of undesirables, only to be sold to a Libra ship crew before he became a teen. Short Blade had learned much during his indentureship with the Libras, and when freed by the humans he enlisted in the Gray Panthers, quickly rising to the rank of chief petty officer and then ensign. With the end of the war, he couldn’t go home to a life of discrimination among his own race. On Earth he would be a freak, without any others of his kind. Dan Daniels, owner of the Gray Panthers, offered him an opportunity in this brave new world: his own long-range shuttle, in exchange for the occasional favor. What could possibly go wrong?

  The Phoenix, en route to the Jacka home world

  1 April 2129

  All was quiet on the Phoenix as Short Blade monitored the ship from the cockpit. This trip would be pure profit for the warrior cum entrepreneur. His cargo consisted of three items: Human missionaries that had managed to acquire visas to spread the word to the Jacka. A hold full of Holstein cows destined for his own dairy farm. The remaining cargo space was filled with bolts of denim.

  “Mr. Short Blade, can I have a word with you, please?” For the tenth time Short Blade regretted having used the stasis field on the cows instead of the missionaries.

  “What may I do for you, Mrs. Miller?” Short Blade yelled through the closed cockpit hatch.

  “I was hoping we could have a nice chat before we get to the Jacka home world.”

  “Sorry, I need to fly the ship. Perhaps once we land we can find some time.” Short Blade heard the missionary storm away from the hatch as he once again relaxed. Passengers would not be on the list for any future trips.

  “Captain, estimate arrival at the Hades Nebula in under an hour,” the ship’s artificial intelligence announced.

  The end of the Hades Wormhole could barely be seen on the sensors as Short Blade started to prepare for the worst part of the trip.

  “Thank you, Phoenix. I’ll navigate us through the nebula. You can plot the hop home from there.”

  Short Blade monitored the screens, studying the various gravity fields and anomalies. The side of the display showed current external forces that were pulling or pushing the ship. Short Blade made sure he stayed in the green or yellow areas, which represented the safest course, until he was out of the nebula.

  Sitting back in his seat, he pulled out his flask and rewarded himself with a nip of cold milk. Putting the flask away, he saw the plot was ready for him to jump and he engaged the FTL drive to his home world.

  He relaxed, knowing he had seven hours ahead of him. The shuttle, a gift from Dan Daniels, leader of the Gray Panthers, was perfect. The installed class one artificial intelligence had a good personality. The shuttle was, if necessary, able to be completely automated, with the AI Phoenix guiding the half-dozen droids in any repairs or maintenance. Short Blade just wondered when he would be called upon to return Dan’s favors.

  Libra cruiser Vengeance, in orbit around Libra

  1 April 2129

  Admiral Bolt watched the screens from the captain’s seat as they searched for life on the planet’s surface. Numerous areas had survivors but could not be reached; the snow had continued for months without any sign of letting up. The planet’s equator was blanketed with dense clouds of fallout, rendering any air travel impossible and the air on the surface unbreathable. Only in the areas around the north and south poles was the air breathable.

  “Sir, we have three ships dropping out of FTL. They appear to be unregistered,” the sensor operator warned.

  “Sound battle stations! Contact the ships and ask their purpose here.” More animals to strip the carcass, most likely, Bolt thought.

  “Sir, all three ships are ignoring our hail. They appear to be Libra destroyers.”

  Bolt checked the sensors and confirmed they were, indeed, Libra destroyers. “Attempt to contact the ships on tactic—”

  The combined attack of the three ships surprised the admiral. Before he could order the ship to return fire, the bridge was destroyed and venting into space. Power went out throughout the ship and crew started to escape to the planet’s surface.

  Aboard the lead destroyer, Captain Slash grimaced as he watched the escape pods leave the disabled ship and head for the planet. The passengers in the pods would have a slow death, a coward’s death.

  “Captain Slash to all ships. Begin sending over the repair teams. Be sure to offer any survivors the opportunity to work for us.”

  The shuttles carried engineers and laborers. Each group consisted of fifteen slave laborers and a guard, all wearing environmental suits. The lead engineer, Harve, had been a civilian maintenance supervisor in the Libra navy. When the Libra Alliance had been defeated, the choice of working for his new masters or getting spaced had not been a difficult one. He would be responsible for getting the damaged cruiser repaired as soon as possible.

  After boarding the disabled ship, Harve started issuing instructions. “Team one, check engineering. Team two, get to life support. Team three and four, start evaluating the bridge.” He was glad to see the ship’s environmental system was good. Removing his helmet, he found that the air was still good. He hooked his helmet to his belt and watched helplessly as the security detachment headed to round up prisoners and secure the armory.

  Other captives like himself were already on the exterior of the ship patching the hull. Those given that responsibility had displeased their new overlords. The suits they wore were not well shielded, and their life expectancy was short.

  Harve was in the last passageway to the bridge when he was forced to don his helmet. A work crew was already cutting open the bulkhead to get to the interior cabling, while across the passageway the exterior hull was being patched.

  Only a few new prisoners were rounded up, as most of the crew had escaped. Guards working with the repair crews were sadistic in their use of the remotes that operated the slaves’ pain collars.

  “Faster!” one of the guards demanded. “We need to be out of here soon. Speed it up, or you’ll be on the hull crew.”

  Harve winced in sympathy for his fellow slaves, se
eing them spasm with pain. He did not have a pain collar, since he was a high-level trustee. But he knew that if he failed his captors, they would either kill his wife and daughter or put them in a pleasure house.

  “Harve, report to auxiliary control.” The speaker did not identify himself, so Harve assumed it was a guard.

  When he got there, he discovered that mixed slaves and ship’s crew held auxiliary control and had started to arm Harve’s fellow slaves. The crewman who appeared to have taken charge gave Harve a once-over.

  “We need you to disable the FTL,” he said. “We were able to send a distress call, but we don’t want to jump before help gets here.”

  Harve realized that he was probably the only one who could disable the FTL without killing everyone if they tried to engage it. A sharp pain went through his head as he debated possible freedom versus the punishment he’d receive if he got caught.

  A message blared from a guard’s radio. “Everyone back to the ships! We have enemy inbound.” Without thinking, Harve jumped into action, opening the FTL panel and adjusting the switches to disable the drive. Looking up, he saw his fellow slaves wriggling on the deck as the crew watched in horror.

  “Do you have access to internal security?” Harve yelled at a crewman. The crewman pulled up the interior cameras in time to see the last shuttle depart.

  “Quick!” Harve shouted. “Get the force fields up to full power. Weapons, lock on the destroyers and fire.”

  The full battery of lasers managed to disable one of the destroyers just as the other two ships used their FTL to jump away. Two dozen shuttles were still trying to decide where to go when the squadron of Fire fleet cruisers arrived.

  “This is Commander Gun of the Fire Ship Fleet. I am responding to the request for assistance.” The disabled destroyer responded foolishly by firing on the cruisers. Retaliation was swift, and the cruisers pummeled the destroyer with laser fire until it was dead in space.

  “Fire Fleet, this is the cruiser Vengeance. We were attacked by the unidentified destroyers and sent the signal for help. Thank you for saving us.”

  “Vengeance, do you require additional assistance?”

  “We will be operational soon. The shuttles are loaded with slaves and guards. Can you rescue them?”

  As the twenty-four shuttles began to return to the Vengeance, armed crewmen met them. The first shuttle to dock opened its hatch, revealing that half of its occupants were dead, including all of the guards. Crewmen quickly checked the occupants of each shuttle, one by one, and sent the survivors to a collection point. The slaves who had survived were surprised, then exhilarated, to find out they were once again free, but the mood soon changed when new shuttles from the Fire ships arrived.

  “This ship is now confiscated by the Fire Ship Fleet. All former ships of the Libra Alliance were to have surrendered to the League of Planets. You will all be taken to Planet Viz, which is similar to the Libra world in atmosphere and temperature. Anyone who wishes may instead head for the planet’s surface before we depart.” Commander Gun ordered.

  Harve realized that he might never see his family again, now that he had helped save the ship. When the Jacka asked for volunteers to crew the ship for the trip to Viz, he made a point to be seen volunteering. He also made sure it was known that he had fixed the FTL. I wonder how these new masters will be? he thought as he set his sights on the future.

  The Phoenix, orbiting the Jacka home world

  2 April 2129

  Short Blade was having trouble controlling his anger. Thanks to the planet’s inexperienced central spaceport operators, there was a two-day queue for landing. Remembering Dan Daniels’s advice to always think outside the box, he decided to try something else.

  “Central Spaceport, Phoenix.”

  “Go ahead, Phoenix.”

  “Request authorization to land on north continent on Claw Clan. I am of the Claw Clan and should not have to wait with foreigners to go home.” Short Blade tried to portray himself as a fellow Jacka surrounded by aliens.

  “Permission is granted. Welcome home.”

  “Short Blade of the Claw Clan thanks you. Proceeding to north continent now.” Short Blade smiled as he changed course to the north continent. The load of Holstein cows was the latest batch for his dairy farm.

  “Milk Central, Milk One.”

  “Go ahead, Milk One.”

  “Will be landing soon. Please have an area cleared so I can drop off an additional one hundred Holstein cows.”

  “Recommend you unload on west forty.

  “Copy that. Will land on west forty.” Short Blade was surprised at how easily things had been working. He had bought the land from the Claw Clan for next to nothing. Dan Daniels had terraformed the land and then dropped in a couple of wells to irrigate the fields, which were now growing a variety of grasses. A few Gray Panthers that Short Blade had known on the Beater had volunteered to work the dairy farm for him, since the cows were too afraid of Jackas to go near them under any circumstance.

  “Popping smoke for you to land.”

  “I see orange smoke, coming in downwind.” Short Blade saw Juan Ramirez and Ralph Dias, both on hover cycles. Both men were dressed in traditional cowboy garb, except instead of six shooters they were wearing short beamers on their hips.

  After landing, Short Blade ignored the missionaries while he opened the main hatch and turned off the stasis field. Walking to the back of the bay, he started to make animal noises. The cows panicked and stampeded out of the shuttle. He followed them and jumped onto the ground.

  “Hey, Juan, you been having troubles?” Short Blade asked, directing his gaze toward the short beamer on Juan’s hip.

  “We had a few cows go missing. Last night we were in a firefight with someone who tried to sneak up on the herd in the north forty, by the spring. We fired them up good but made sure not to hit anyone.

  “Good. That would create a mess, especially depending on what clan they belonged to. I’m going into town to drop off some missionaries. I’ll hire some old vets to serve as sentries, so no one can get close to the farm. Think you can handle a dozen geriatric mercenaries?”

  “With what I did in the Gray Panthers, I think I can manage. By the way, the distributor in town wants to talk with you. He needs more product. Says he needs ten times the amount he’s getting now.”

  “Thanks, Juan. Think I should raise my prices if things are going that well?”

  “I think we need to use the trackers in those stolen cows and get them back, so others won’t get the same idea.”

  “When I get back from town, we’ll map out a plan. Hey, Ralph, I hear you been shooting up the locals. Good job!” Short Blade boarded the shuttle and closed the main hatch behind him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, next stop will be town,” he told the missionaries. “From there, you’ll need to find your own way.” He closed the hatch to the cockpit and fired up the engines for the short trip into town. Minutes later, he radioed the local air traffic coordinator.

  “Claw Town Five, this is Short Blade.”

  “Go ahead, Short Blade.”

  “Request permission to use the city shuttle lot to park my ship.”

  “Permission is granted. Lot attendant will be available to collect fees.”

  “Understood. Lot attendant will be there to meet me. Short Blade out.” Claw Town Five, under the new programs initiated by Dan Daniels, was one of the fastest growing towns on the planet. Huge areas of the north continent were reclaiming desert into forests and farmland. Along with the many workers came those who preyed on the workers.

  As Short Blade set the shuttle down in the lot, he saw a single figure waiting for him. From the uniform, he guessed it was either a general or an admiral. After powering down the shuttle, he opened the hatch for the missionaries to begin unloading and then stepped out onto the ground.

  The surly attendant sneered when he saw that Short Blade was not of full height. “Welcome to Claw Town Five. How long will you need to
be parked on the town lot?”

  “I’ll be back sometime tonight. Be a good lad and keep the criminals away from my shuttle.”

  “That will be five coins.”

  “Here’s two coins. If you really want to try and charge me more, give me a receipt and I’ll take it to the town council.”

  The attendant tensed his body and acted like he was ready to charge at the runt for his impudence. Short Blade slid back his leather flying jacket, revealing his holster.

  “Your move. Shit or get off the sand!” he growled. Glaring, the attendant backed away.

  “That seemed very interesting, Mr. Short Blade,” one of the missionaries said in a hushed voice, his face drained of color. “Was there trouble?”

  “No, that is now the way of our people. There is a public transportation station half a mile down that road. From there you can get anywhere. When you are charged for anything, be sure to haggle. If you are paying a government employee for a service, be sure to ask for a receipt. You’ll see the prices drop. Good day.” Short Blade strode past the small group of humans and made his way back into the shuttle.

  “Phoenix, contact my tailor and tell him to get here as soon as possible, please.” The tailor was the cousin of another tailor who had once asked Short Blade about the blue jeans he was wearing at the time. Now, denim clothing was a huge trend on the planet, as it was great to work in, and comfortable. Short Blade was debating making a run with nothing but bolts of denim.

  The tailor appeared shortly, and Short Blade simply said, “Five hundred gold coins, please.”

  “You are a shrewd business cat,” the tailor said, annoyed at the price but happy to have the material.

  Short Blade, as always, threw in an extra gift. Holding out a stack of fashion magazines, he said, “Here are the styles the humans are using for their clothing. Do you want these, or should I use them for fire starter?”

  The tailor rushed to grab them. “Thank you, Short Blade. It’s a pleasure to do business with you.” He produced a box of five hundred gold coins and his assistant began carrying the bolts of denim to the transport. While the tailor tore into the magazines, Short Blade helped carry the remaining bolts, figuring that he was making seventy-five percent profit on each bolt.