Author, Teacher, Techie, Dad
B. Duane Smith
Excerpts from The Staff
From Tales of Inter-Space Freight Services, Ltd. - The Staff
McMurtry
The ship's comms came to life. "Captain McMurtry, that was well played!" Brooks voice said. "I'm afraid one of our comrades will not be celebrating our victory with us, though. And victory will be ours, for we most certainly hold the upper hand, now."
"What do you want, Brooks?" McMurtry responded into the air.
"Oh a great many things, Captain!" Brooks replied. "First of which is access to the rest of the ship. It seems your crew mate as you call it was quite proficient at sealing the companionway hatches. Impressive mental functioning for an insect! Having two pods with ship’s control is fine and good, but you must agree with me that an entire ship is far preferable."
"Come and get it," McMurtry answered.
"Oh we intend to," Brooks replied smugly. "I offer you a choice, Captain. We would like you and your mech-tech to join us forward. Or, you should plan to meet whatever deity you offer your prayers to. Even now we are ready to deactivate life support aft. We shall certainly be able to re-open those hatches for full ship access, but I'm afraid you'll be dead before we reach you."
"You didn't make the offer to my Cargo Specialist, Brooks. I'm not going if she's not going."
"So interesting you say that, Captain! My companion with the broken hand swears that the insect would make a fine steak, or perhaps a hearty stew with vegetables. So, naturally, it is invited to join you."
From Tales of Inter-Space Freight Services, Ltd. - The Staff
Dingus
As he walked back to Siren's Call Dingus could see Hatcher talking to two others. A nondescript vehicle sat by the ramp just under the shelter of the ship out of the rain. Slowing his pace he took care to observe the newcomers. One wore the uniform of an inspector. The other was plainly dressed. Even at the distance he recognized the uniform and the Chorian official inside of it. He was thankful for the oversized rain slicker and pulled it's hood further forward to hide more of his face. He angled his approach toward the other extended ramp from where the three were standing. He was still much too far away to hear the conversation. Hatcher consulted his datapad then nodded to the two. They entered the vehicle and drove away opposite Dingus's new direction.
Dingus didn't like this. There were too many coincidental appearances with Chorians. He continued toward the ramp so not to raise suspicion by changing direction again. Hatcher had already climbed back into the cockpit when Dingus entered the hold.
"Secure hold for liftoff, Donogal," Hatcher's voice sounded over ship's comms.
Dingus responded "Aye, Captain," at the panel by the ladder, then hit the controls to raise ramps for liftoff. The lights of the Chorian Inspector's retreating vehicle winked out as the ramp closed. A rumble of thunder penetrated the ship. Dingus was unsure whether the vibration in the deck plates was from the thunder or the ramps sealing closed.
From Tales of Inter-Space Freight Services, Ltd. - The Staff
MaryLiz
MaryLiz didn’t know whether to be scared or pissed. In four days neither Russell nor her Dad had responded to her calls. All she received from the company were standard replies of “Unavailable at this time,” and “I’m sorry Miss Godard, but…” Had something happened? A sinking feeling at the bottom of her stomach began to set in.
Her shuttle flashed into existence at the Portal Gate near Saturn. Simultaneously, three separate alarms sounded. The proximity alert screamed first and loudest that other ships were too close. A missile targeting alert, though not the loudest certainly the most upsetting, was next. Finally, the incoming emergency comms signal provided lower-octave accompaniment.
Reflexively MaryLiz rolled the shuttle, slapping the proximity alert’s mute switch. She was only slightly relieved that the missile targeting and not the missile tracking alarm continued to wail. She toggled emergency comms to feed cockpit audio while straightening from the roll.
“…ut down drive systems and come about to four-zed-three-three-two-seven immediately or be fired upon!” the speakers yelled. “REPEAT! Shut down drive systems or be fired upon! Acknowledge and comply!”
Three blips on the HUD converged toward her. “This is Nomad Zed-Four-Thirty-three, WHO are you and why the hell are you targeting me? I am unarmed! Repeat, I am an unarmed shuttle.” Shock gave way to anger as she initiated thruster shutdown.
“Nomad Zed-Four-Thirty-three, you are under arrest by order of Terra Consolidated Security. You will be escorted to ConSec Phoebe base. Remain in drive shutdown until further ordered.”
From: Tales of Inter-Space Freight Services, Ltd. - The Staff
Captain Ambrose Zeplin
A rain of missiles launched into Frank’s rapidly approaching group. The Orcas’ lackluster maneuverability was their downfall. Defensive railguns poured into the onslaught, but half of Frank’s squad blossomed into fireballs. Severely outnumbered and outgunned, Ambrose ordered all remaining Orcas to retreat. Two disabled gunboats from his squad fired missiles and their remaining rail guns, but only the turrets could aim with any accuracy. Flights of mercenary fighters set upon the drifting Orcas leaving nothing resembling a ship after they were done.
Bolts of fire from a large pirate ship’s pulse cannon rocked Ambrose’s Orca. Ambrose yelled to Chen for a report. “Working on it, sir!” she yelled back. Ambrose realized that neither turret was returning fire.
“Dan, take turret control!” Dan nodded and threw the switches giving control of the turret guns to the cockpit. Only the ventral cannon responded. Targeting was out of the question because the cannon barely moved. Dan cursed in a language Ambrose didn’t understand.
“Sir! Dorsal turret out, slugs spent, sixteen missiles left, and a problem with maneuvering jets. Engine at sixty percent! Kalinsky and Milford’s readouts flat-lined.”
An Orca of Ambrose’s group exploded off his ship’s port leaving only Ambrose and his wingman. Frank and his last wingman spiraled through a tightly packed trio of pirate frigates. Two broke apart as the Orcas emerged.
“Frank! Get outta’ here,” Ambrose ordered as he twisted his own Orca into an impossible barrel roll avoiding two missiles from the distant destroyer.