Freighter's Prize

By Karl Thorn

Patric DeBeck is disguised as a tramp freighter captain for the Grand Admiral of the F.W.O fleet. He rescues Dayna Quinn, the admiral's daughter, from a failed diplomatic mission. Patric finds himself fleeing the ambush with Dayna onboard his tramp freighter. Fortunately for them, appearances aren’t what they seem. Patric’s ship is well equipped to find out who attacked them and why. They learn the heart of the F.W.O. is at jeopardy. They must find a way to stop the invasion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karl Thorn
• Release date: Oct 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311088291

Karl Thorn

Technical Support Engineer Two degrees in electronics

Book preview

Freighter’s Prize

By Karl Thorn

Published by Karl Thorn at Smashwords

Copywrite 2014 Karl Thorn

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

* * *

PROLOGUE

Grand Admiral Garrette drove his motorized wheel chair into the central command center of the moon ship, Brytestar. The hundred and fifty-nine year old man stood and looked around the circular room. The huge room was a tremendous improvement over the moon’s first control center. The original was on the outer surface, part of small base made of scrap material the remnant Space Alliance could salvage. It held only a few people and each station only had status lights of red and green. This control center housed over a hundred people with the latest instrumentation and a wall display that circled the entire room. The commander’s station was a circular platform in the center of the room. It had a clear view of every station.

A tall thin faced man, with graying hair at the temples, sat in the command chair of the raised platform. He had four stars on the black collar of his blue uniform, an admiral. He stepped down from the platform and approached the Grand Admiral. He greeted him with a salute.

Ronald Garrette straightened his back and returned the salute in a snappier manner than one would think for a man of his age. Ron wore the same uniform as the man before him. Are all systems ready for the live test? the Grand Admiral asked.

Yes, answered Admiral Bogart with a friendly smile on his thin face. All ships are docked and secure. All ground stations have reported secured as well and all systems are calibrated and synced. The Brytestar is ready to go.

Grand Admiral Ronald Garrette was looking forward to this day for a long time. He had seen the transformation of this moon from a small hollow sphere made of granite to the instrument that caused the collapse of the Czarian Empire. Originally the moon had orbited a gas giant and became the base of operations for the remnant fleet of the Space Alliance. Later, the base was moved inside the hollow sphere for better protection. Later still, field effect generators were built strategically around the inside surface of the moon to transform it into the largest mobile object known! It could jump two point two lightyears in one second carrying with it two entire fleets! Now with the new upgraded equipment installed, it was expect to jump ten to a hundred times that distance. It would become the best ‘ship’, in fact a base with many ships, to explore the other side of the galaxy!

Exploration has always been Ron’s greatest desire. Now with the Czar on the run, they could afford to do some serious exploration. He was ready to go. Proceed, Ron said with a large cracked smile. Go to resonance mode when ready!

Admiral Bogart gave a slight nod and returned to the command platform. Ron Garrette followed at a slower pace, leaving his chair behind. As old as he was he was still able to get around. He used the chair only when he needed to traverse large distances, such as those within this base.

Begin phase one, energize all secondary resonance coils! Bogart hollered as he stepped onto the platform. Activity picked up around the room in a quiet professional manner. Bogart watched his own circular console and the people beyond.

Resonance mode was the critical phase of a jump. Scientists believed if they created a secondary resonance first, before the primary was activated, it would increase the safety factor and distance of the jump. Tests have proved this theory correct, but this was the first live test of a human occupied ship, let alone something as large as a moon.

The Grand Admiral stopped on the first step that Bogart just used. He leaned against the console and scan around the room. He had a proud smile across his wrinkled face. With the help of the Tearrains and other aliens, the remnant Space Alliance had come a long way. He looked up at Admiral Bogart and gave an assuring nod.

All secondary systems have stabilized, Bogart informed the Grand Admiral. Proceed with phase two, energize all primary coils! He scanned his circular console and the people around the room. They were performing their duties as if this were a daily routine. Bogart occasionally checked the big screen that circled the room. All status boards read nominal. Everything was going as planned. Primary coils reaching resonance… the admiral began to say.

Power surge! announced someone to Bogart’s right. Primary shut down routines have failed!

The confidence and friendly smile fell from the Grand Admiral’s wrinkled face as he watched Admiral Bogart issue orders to shut down all power. Before he could even finish the first sentence everything, including the people, began to glow a bright green. Only enough seconds passed to allow everyone to know that something had badly gone wrong. The entire moon with its base, two fleets of ships and millions of people vanished permanently, only traces of a green haze was left behind. A few seconds later that was even gone.

CHAPTER ONE

Well, Miss Quinn must be royally pissed off with us this time, Patric DeBeck’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement. He played the part of a tramp freighter pilot well. He purposely wore old tattered cloths and kept a two days growth of beard. We just entered communication range with the Alpine and she is already hailing us. He explained looking over at his pink sidekick named Quinton.

Quinton sat at the co-pilot’s station. The five-legged creature was from the planet Cimeron. The octopus-like invertebrate was called a quintapod. He had a faint purple diamond pattern on the upper portion of his pink body. His torso was the shape of a balloon and twice the size of a basketball. His five appendages were about two feet in length and served both as arms and legs. When Quinton fully extended himself he looked like a giant starfish. Patric had installed a special crash seat to accommodate his five-legged friend. It gave the quintapod full access to all the console’s controls. Quinton chirped something in his native language.

No, Patric responded. I’ll let her stew for a while before I’ll answer. He gave his pink friend a smirk. After all, I want to make sure she will have a strong, clear signal to chew us out on. He knew Miss Quinn had every right to be upset. They were running late.

Quinton gave a slow declining whistle in return, obviously not liking the idea. He turned his two large bulbous eyes toward his friend. He had two ear antenna behind the eye stalks that rose higher and ended in balls as well.

Alright, you just want to ruin all my fun, don’t you? Patric said light heartily. He enjoyed playing the role of a good-for-nothing freighter pilot. He slipped the headgear over his dark hair and set the ship to transmit a signal through the fluxwave engines. A modulated gravity spike was the only way in which faster than light communications could occur. This is the freighter Argentine requesting clearance and landing instructions.

Argentine, this is the Alpine, a male voice answered. You have been given clearance, transmitting your landing instructions now.

Patric gave Quinton a raised brow. Hmm, no Trustee Quinn? He had really expected her to jump on his case. He flipped on the transmitter. Roger, we are receiving. He wondered what was up with the Trustee. They were late, carrying important cargo. She had to be furious.

* * *

Reducing speed to a quarter lightyear per hour. The Alpine’s helmsman repeated Captain Richards’ order. The magnificent ship was slowing to rendezvous with the tramp freighter, Argentine.

Dayna Quinn watched from the bridge’s observation balcony. She was angry and that broken down freighter was adding aggravations on top of it. She didn’t need any more problems right now. Going on this envoy to Gratsby was her job, she knew, but being called to do it at the last minute was the perturbing thing. This was the third time she had to postpone the Brytestar Expedition.

Dayna ran her fingers through her hair, pushing the long black silky strands from her almond shaped blue eyes. She had a petite nose with skin tanned to a deep copper. In her line of work as an FWO ambassador, she never knew how harsh of an environment she would be subjected to. Keeping her skin tanned helped to prevent sunburns as well as giving her a complexion she desired. She was the FWO’s Fleet Trustee, as well, the Grand Admiral’s oldest child. This made her heir to be fleet commander.

Dayna stood, stepped down from the balcony and walked to the captain’s side with the grace of royalty. None of her aggravation showed.

Captain Richards watched her approach. He has admired her figure ever since he first saw her years ago. He thought her rounded chest, narrow waist, and wide hips were just the right ratios. She wore a sleeveless silky white dress that tightly clung to every curve. A slit ran from the hem nearly to her hip, giving brief glimpses of a long smooth leg as she walked. The low cut dress gave ample view of her pronounced cleavage. Her dark copper complexion was a sharp contrast to the silky white dress and stunning blue eyes. The captain turned away, looked out the large bridge windows and scratched his thick beard to prevent himself from gazing. His professionalism would never allow him to show her any of his true thoughts. He knew he would never be involved with her personally, but it didn’t prevent him from enjoying her presents.

The huge dreadnought, Alpine, was slowing from its cruising speed of one point two lightyears per hour so the tramp freighter, Argentine, could land more easily. With a slower speed, the gravity spike would not be as strong, allowing for a wider insertion window for the smaller ship. Dayna felt this freighter pilot would need all the help he could get. He had proved not to be very dependable in the past. Which bay will he land in? She asked.

Starboard, the captain said quietly, looking at the tactical display, as if watching the freighter approach. Though Captain Richards was the official commander of the Alpine, the ship was assigned to serve the Trustee. The magnificent ship carried her everywhere she had to go, even on her private expeditions.

Thank you, Captain, she briskly walked off the bridge. This time the captain did notice a hardness to her graceful gate.

* * *

Patric keyed on his microphone. This is the Argentine. We are in position for fluxwave insertion. We will shut our fluxdrive down at the calculated time. If they did it too late or was not positioned correctly in front of the Alpine, they would either hit the ship or slip around it. If the latter happened they would have to start all over. If the former, the Alpine would be damage and the small freighter destroyed.

Argentine, the male voice responded, proceed when ready.

Patric looked over at his pink friend, smiling with an unshaven face. Shall I make Dayna Quinn even angrier? He gave Quinton another smirk. After all, we do need to stay within our given role.

The quintapod knew what he was suggesting. Patric wanted to intentionally miss the window. Quinton gave him a sharp trill, though he knew Patric was good enough pilot to safely perform the stunt.

Perhaps your right, Patric answered. We are already late. He turned back to his controls and allowed the ship’s computer to automatically perform the procedure.

Insertion successful, the computer announced. The Argentine was now riding the wake of the Alpine’s gravity spike. The fluxdrive is shut down. Shall I proceed with landing or do you wish to manually take the Argentine in? The computer asked.

Pass control to Quinton, Patric ordered. He could use the practice.

Very well, control is passed to Quinton.

Quinton chirped a sharp rebuttal. His large bulbous eyes turned toward Patric and narrowed.

Patric covered his mouth to hide his smile. Quinton didn’t need the practice any more then he did. They were both excellent pilots. I know, but remember I flew her in the last time.

Quinton answered with a mellow whistle.

Patric leaned back in his seat and watched out the canopy as if he had no care in the world. Quinton was now matching relative speed with the dreadnought. He then rotated the small freighter to face the huge ship. The Alpine could easily be seen, though they were out in the darkness of deep space. Its outer hull was lit by flood lamps and viewing ports. The diamonds in the eight giant claw-shaped engine nacelles, firing in a regulated pattern, glowed brilliantly. They cast a white hue of light behind and around the ship.

The white hue blinded any approach from behind, though a stern approach was impossible. The gravity ‘spike’ the engines produced in the spatial flux made a direct stern approach impossible.

Quinton gave the freighter a little forward thrust and the Argentine started to creep closer and closer to the big ship.

Patric watched the four huge windows at the bow of the Alpine pass by on their starboard side. He knew this to be the ballroom. The four windows spanned a hundred feet. Four smaller windows above them were the bridge windows. He expected the Trustee Miss Quinn to be in one of those two places, though the only images he could make out were those of the Alpine’s crew.

How he would be happy to see her, though he would never let her know.

Quinton was now angling the Argentine for the Alpine’s starboard landing bay. As they passed the bridge, the Free Worlds Organization’s emblem of a star cluster encircled by a swooping arrow came into full view. Rows of torpedo launchers and mini-missile turrets slipped passed next. The Alpine was a military dreadnought and ready for battle at all times, but this ship was unique. Parts of the ship had been modified to house large numbers of important guests and carried the proper diplomatic necessities such as the ballroom and other plush staterooms for the negotiators.

Oversized landing bays were built in both the starboard and port wings that mounted four engine nacelles each. The engines stood like eight vertical fins, glowing brightly. The starboard bay doors were open and Quinton slowly glided the small freighter into the landing bay. The outer doors closed and the bay began to fill with air. The freighter was too large to be taken in further where the shuttles were stowed, but there was ample room for tractors to turn the ship around so they could quickly unload the cargo from the stern of the freighter and have the ship ready for launch.

* * *

Dayna went to the starboard landing bay’s observation room. It had been one of the rooms added when the ship was modified for diplomatic use. She stood in front of the full window watching the freighter come into view. What a piece of junk, she thought. The Argentine looked nothing like the name implied. Instead of being bright, shinny and new, it was just the opposite. The hull was scarred and battered with primer and patch work all over it. Even one of the engines had clearly seen its better days! The pilot must be stupid, brave or desperate to fly such a crate.

Probably the latter, she thought.

Some of the tension she felt left her as she watched the ship safely enter the bay. Why did her father insist on using these independent freighters? She thought as she continued to study the scrap heap. The type was never reliable and the scum that crewed them could never be trusted.

Then again, she knew why her father employed DeBeck. He had helped in a Czarian scuffle several years back. She never bothered to find out what, but clearly remembered the day she first met him. It had been shortly after seeing the Brytestar momentarily materialize over Ozarka.

She unconsciously shook her head and decided that she was lucky the ship had even arrived. It carried the special supplies and gifts for the Grats that she needed to make the negotiations a success. Nevertheless, she would make sure that DeBeck knew her displeasure.

The Argentine’s engines sat side by side that uniquely overlapped one another. They rose slightly above and behind the flat elliptical wedge of the ship. The engines had apposing tilts at thirty degree angles from the horizon for better landing clearance and make loading cargo easier. Short pylons connected them to main hull, one coming from each fusion core. The ship was intentionally designed compact so that it could land on most of the larger ships and streamlined so it could land on planets. A large canopy covered the raised cockpit near the nose of the ship so the pilot would have clear view of all sides. Dayna could clearly see the Human pilot within.

The man signaled her a thumb’s up. She crossed her arms in response. Where do these people get their ego, she would never know.

Dayna waited in front of the observation room’s interior window until the outer bay doors closed and the landing bay pressurized. The inner doors opened, then a tractor came out and turn the ship around. The moment the light by the observation room’s door turned green, she briskly waltzed to the ship’s main entrance. She saw that the man had disappeared from the canopy. She began tapping her foot as he was clearly taking his time. The corner of her mouth turned up as her suspicions were confirmed. At the stern of the Argentine, the cargo bay ramp slowly lower to the ground. Only then did a scruffy looking man wearing a pair of pants with a hole in the knee exit through the main hatch. He had at least a two days growth of beard.

* * *

From the cockpit, Patric’s heart skipped a beat when he recognized the woman wearing the white silky dress standing in the observation room. The moment she could, she exited the room and pranced across the landing bay. We got company coming, he informed Quinton. He wanted to watch her more. He would never get enough of her beauty, but knew he shouldn’t allow such thoughts. He forced himself to get back to business. I guess she wants to do her scolding in person. He patted Quinton on top of his body between his bulbous ear antenna. Patric was actually glad he could talk to her in person, but he would never admit it to Quinton. Though he knew Quinton already knew the truth through the bond they shared. Stay here and watch over the unloading while I get my butt chewed out. He left the cockpit with Quinton whistling his approval of the arrangement.

Patric decided he wanted to irritate