This is a work of fiction any similarities between the characters, events, or locations in this story and actual locations, events, or people are purely coincidental.
© 2004 Warlord
The klaxon was screaming as I came to on the stasis couch. I hit the emergency release and staggered out of the cabin. I was on the bridge in moments.
“Report, Crystal, and this better not be a drill.”
“It’s no drill, Captain.”
“Put it up on the screen and let’s all get a look. And shut off that fucking horn.”
“Yes, sir.”
My name is Edward Demarest. Everybody calls me Eddy. I am on my way to the most important meeting of my 16 years.
I am the son, grandson and, great-grandson of scouts. Today I find out if I will be a scout.
I live on the island estate of my father, Charles. Though ‘island’ does not quite do this place justice. After all, Australia on Old Earth is an island! I am the only son of Bridget, one of his junior wives. I will never be Charles’ heir. His senior wife is Claire, and her eldest son, Benjamin, is the presumptive Demarest heir.
The rocket shuttle picked me up outside my mother’s castle at dawn. I would reach the home estate slightly before noon. I would have a luncheon meeting with my father and brother to discuss my future.
The shuttle was luxurious and the staff was beautiful. Only to be expected. My father had discovered the technology of the “Old Ones.” Single-handedly, he had moved our knowledge forward one thousand years. He was still being rewarded, as new discoveries were made from his.
We landed outside Castle Demarest. I stepped on the moving walkway, and contemplated my ancestral home. It was a huge stone masonry castle styled on the Germanic Castles of Old Earth, with high walls, high towers, and huge keeps. The drawbridge was down, the gates were open, and the guards were expecting me.
I was escorted to the private apartment of my eldest brother Benjamin. He greeted me warmly. “Hello, Brother Eddy.”
“Hello, Ben, I hope all is well.”
We hugged, and he escorted me into his private dining room. I know the juniors often dislike eldest brothers. I see no reason to dislike Ben. My mother is well provided for. Frankly, his role in life is not one I would have selected.
We walked into the dining room, and I was in for a shock. My father, Charles Demarest, was in attendance. My grandfather, William Demarest, had left his island estate on planet Scorpio to attend. My great-grandfather, Philip Demarest, was attending by view screen from his mountain estate on planet Caddis.
I greeted them in turn. “Greetings, Father.”
“Greetings, Junior Son Eddy. Is my wife, your mother well?”
“Yes, Father. She sends her greeting and love. Greetings, Grandfather. An unexpected pleasure.”
“Hello, Edward.”
I turned to the vid. “Greetings, Gran.”
“Hello, Eddy. When will you again be visiting Caddis to see an old man?”
“Who would that be, Gran? Do you have someone ‘old’ living with you?”
He laughed and said, “Respect your elders, boy.”
I did!
The Demarest family was several generations from Earth born before Philip was born.
Philip became our first scout. In the tradition of the mountain men who shouldered their Hawken Rifles, left St. Louis, and blazed trails through the American West, we of the Demarest Family did the same thing in space. Today I was asking them to provide a ship and stipend so that I could continue the tradition.
Ben asked, “You wish to leave us, Eddy?”
I answered, “My mother has a beautiful castle, and it is my home, but there is nothing for me here.”
Everyone at the table nodded. The sentiment was understood immediately; no one took offense.
Charles asked, “Your mother’s father, your grandfather, he is a naval officer?”
“Yes, father. Admiral Carteris. I understand he wishes to live with Mother at retirement.”
“We have already given permission. Will he be able to aid you?”
“Only to the extent that the Carteris name and his naval legacy will allow me to use Empire and naval facilities and bases. I understand that I will also have access to naval navigation information and can travel in restricted areas.”
Phillip spoke up. “That is aid.”
William said, “Show us.”
I tossed the data chip on the table. The holographic image of my scout design appeared. William said, “Explain.”
I explained. “I took a standard design, and added some length and breadth. That became cargo area and a stateroom. The ability to haul high value cargo or passengers gives me flexibility.” I continued, “There is high-density armor on the hull and shield generators. The plasma engines give me long legs. I have energy weapons, probably phasers, but I can’t fight much; I will need to run and hide. My design includes stealth and cloaking technology.”
I concluded, “Best quality AI and sensors. The human design includes replicators and holo-suite. The captain’s suite and ready room will be roomy and comfortable. I am requesting one human robot and an android linked to my AI. The design includes a stasis couch for long jumps.”
The comments that followed were knowledgeable and incisive. We incorporated the details as we went along.
Charles said: “The scout spends much time in the long dark far from home. You need comfort and companionship to stay sane. We will provide two bots and upgrade your AI.”
Finally the discussion slowed. William said, “Good design. Yes.”
Phillip asked, “You are at the majority?”
“Yes, sixteen this week.”
“Not wasting time?”
“No, sir. Waited long enough.”
There was general agreement to that as well.
Benjamin spoke. “It is up to me as the heir to decide if we will use the Demarest resources to fund this effort. My decision is that we shall fund the scout ship as designed by Edward with the enhancements listed today. We will fund his explorations, pay his dues to the Scouts’ organization, and pay a stipend to him. In return, one-half of his gain is returned to us.”
There were nods around the table. It was a fair agreement.
“I accept.”
We all shook hands. I placed my hand flat on the vid screen. Gran placed his hand opposite on his screen. “Die bravely, Gran.”
“Die bravely, young Ed.”
With that, I said goodbye to my family. I would join the mountain men. The scouts.
I was on the shuttle Rolling Stone, approaching a section of the sprawling shipyard in Clement system. The entire planetary system had become a shipyard, a series of space docks and construction facilities. My ship was being built here. It was nearly complete, and today was a final inspection day before shakedown.
I stepped off the shuttle and through the lock into the construction office connected to my ship’s air lock. I met Clarence, the construction manager for my ship. “Hello, Clarence.”
“Morning, Eddy.”
We had been together constantly for the nearly year that my ship was being readied, and we were both still alive. Clarence and I would be making a series of acceptance inspections and then a shakedown cruise before I took possession of my “baby.”
Clarence led the way into the ship. I greeted my robots and my AI. My family had not stinted. My Artificial Intelligence was first rate with a hologram named Crystal. I had two android fembot robots: Beverly and Agatha.
My two Fembots were exceptionally beautiful, with the most advanced brain and programming available. They would be a capable crew, as well as sexual companions at my beck and call. Beverly and Agatha were dressed in black one-piece jumpsuits. They would be wearing far less once we were traveling.
As Clarence walked me through the ship I contemplated the added features which my family bought, improving the ship without regard to cost: shields, armor, navigation, engines, guns, cloaking, AI, and even comfort. Nothing, which would be noticed from outside but inside this was a first-rate deluxe design and execution. Shark had a special black anti-reflective, light absorbing stealth coating on the hull. Naturally the crew uniforms were black to match.
The additions included provisions and crew equipment. The gun racks were filled and the ammunition lockers were packed.
As expected, there were no problems. My ship was ready to commission. We commissioned the scout ship “Shark.” Great-Grandfather had given permission to use his ship name for mine.
Clarence had me dock Shark at the Clement space station, where I had been quartered.
I opened a large aluminum case that I was carrying. I took out a .45-caliber Hawken percussion single-shot rifle with its walnut stock and octagon-browned barrel. I placed it in a glass-fronted case in the captain’s ready room. I had my reminder of my chosen role in this life.
Beverly and Agatha helped me to carry the last of my personal possessions aboard Shark. We stowed them in my cabin. I stopped on the bridge. I asked Crystal, Shark’s AI hologram, to prepare a data chip with our journey plan. Beverly, Agatha and I would be visiting the Scouts’ Club as our last stop before departure.
We walked around the outside mezzanine of the space station until we reached the Club. I stopped at the front desk and presented my membership chip. I reserved a data kiosk.
We walked into the main sitting room. It was a replica of an Old English club room with the stone fireplace, oak paneling and big wingback chairs. You expect to see Sherlock Holmes sitting in one of the chairs reading the London Times.
Through the double French doors is the dining room, with the gourmet menu. Through the sliding oak doors is the card and game room; enter at your own risk! Up the stairs are the sleeping rooms.
Through the third set of oak doors is the library. Still with two-story-high bookshelves, but now also with large vid screens and several data acquisition stations.
An annex to the library is our destination. The desk for filing scout journey plans. We walked up and greeted the clerk. I handed my chip to her. She asked, “Destination?”
“Space Station Saint Louis.”
It is the ultimate irony that the Emperor should order a huge deluxe space station to be built and then towed to the very farthest corner of known space to act as a base for explorers and scouts like me and named it “Saint Louis.” The same name as the base of operations for the wild west of Old Earth
“Will you take cargo or passengers?”
“Perhaps, we have room. I am not sure if I want cargo for this leg. Is there cargo waiting?”
She smiled and said, “No, it is a standard question. There may be passengers or high value cargo when you reach the station.”
She processed the chip. Our trip was now on file, and if we became overdue, all available scouts would mount a search.
The chip now was updated with information from any scout who had crossed our proposed path, with all their sensor readings. At our destination we would be expected to file a journey report, and our sensor data would be made available to other scouts.
This was not as important in this “known” part of the empire. The sharing of information among scouts became very important as we moved beyond the edge of the known.
She handed me the chip and said, “Thank you. Good Luck. Good Hunting. Die Bravely.”
“Thank you.”
We stepped away from the counter and walked back to the armourer. I had a knife and handgun being cleaned and checked. There was such an armourer at every Scouts’ Club.
A gift from my mother, the knife had a stout single edged blade with a drop point, the point in line with the grip. The knife had a sharpened false edge one third of the way back from the point with another one-third taken up by the brass strip inset on the blade back just ahead of the hilt. It was well balanced for fighting or throwing. The knife was practical enough to be used for utility. A Mom is definitely a boy’s best friend.
My handgun was a traditional rail gun design. Rails use electric force field to send a small high-density needle at hyper-velocity into the target. The needle penetrates deeply in hard targets, tumbling in soft ones dumping its energy quickly into the target. There was little or no recoil and little report save the inevitable sonic disturbance of its hypervelocity round.
The new tech involving small cold fusion generators made it more compact and gave it better ergonomics. I insisted on a better grip and more intuitive sights. The only problem with rails was accuracy - or lack of it! The gunsmith was trying to wring maximum accuracy from my personal protection piece.
We walked up to this counter and greeted the gunsmith.
He said, “Hello, Eddy. I have your gun and knife ready.”
“Excellent. How are they working?”
“The knife is as sharp as I can make it and still have it hold an edge. Be very careful. The gun will finally keep all its projectiles inside a 20-millimeter circle at 100 meters. With it set on burst, it will keep those three rounds fired almost instantly inside 5 centimeters at that same 100 meters.”
“Very good, thank you.”
Before we left, he went into his drawer and pulled out three Swiss Army Knives. These were compact folding utility knives, with many tools and functions. The Scout models were special order, made from premium stainless steel, with extra tools and special high tech add-ons. He handed a Swiss knife to me and to my two companions.
He then repeated the scouts traditional greeting and farewell. “Thank you. Good Luck. Good Hunting. Die Bravely.”
Often shortened among scouts to the last only: Die Bravely.
“Thank you, Guns.”
We walked through the sitting room until we reached the data kiosks. Beverly, Agatha and I entered the booth together.
Agatha pulled her interface cable from her pocket. She connected it to the terminal, and then by a dermal patch to her neural net. Agatha became my secretary. I would dictate and she would generate the messages. I caught up on mail. I informed folks of Shark’s impending departure. I replied to my mother’s last message and told her we were leaving and we would be in contact at our destination, Space Station St. Louis.
We broke the connection and Agatha unhooked her interface cable. Our last stop would be the card room. I had spent many hours here playing poker. My favorite game was from Old Earth, called “Texas Hold’em.”
My youth and young looking face early on convinced several scouts that I would be an easy mark. This perception paid my bar tab and expenses at the club to the last day! In fact, I had been playing poker with the scouts visiting my family since I was old enough to hold cards.
I greeted the card players at my regular table. “Greetings, scouts.”
There were replies from all. Luella greeted me and asked, “Was that your ship completed today, Eddy?”
“Yes, Lu. We commissioned Shark today.”
One of the other scouts asked, “Traveling?”
I replied, “As soon as I leave here.”
There was nodding around the table. Lu said, “I’m disappointed. You were to let me try one of your bots.”
“Lu, you play too rough for my bots. Anyway, you wanted me, a young inexperienced boy.”
Lu giggled and said, “I would do it only for you, young Eddy. You would be my only man.”
I said, “I don’t know, Lu. If we do it, do I tie you up or do you tie me up?”
The whole table of scouts including Lu cracked up.
Lu was another consummate poker player. She tried me out early. When she realized I could play she quietly went after easier money. She had last questions. “Your last name, Demarest. Any relation to him?”
She pointed at a picture of Great-Grandfather Phillip on the card room wall over the fireplace. I replied, “Yes, he is my Great-Grandfather.”
She asked, “You rich, then?”
I replied simply, “Junior wife.”
“Ahh.”
That was an answer that brought sage nods around the table. Lu had done me a favor. In many families Junior Sons were treated far worse then in the Demarest family. In a few cases, Junior Sons were simply escorted off the ancestral property when they reached their majority.
No Junior Wives in other marriages had the kind of estates or money that my mother, and the other Demarest Junior Wives, had. My treatment was light-years from any other Junior I knew. I did not brag, however.
Lu’s question and my answer would make the rounds in the scout community. They would draw my preferred conclusion. I would not have to deal with jealousy unless it was professional!
Lu asked, “Play a couple hands?”
“No, Lu, I want to leave yet today.”
“Anxious?”
“Very!” The scouts nodded. They all understood getting on with the journey.
“I leave today for Space Station Saint Louis.”
Lu said, “I will see you there as soon as my refit is complete.”
Another asked, “Using Gates?”
I replied, “No, Warp Drive. Path is well surveyed, perhaps short jumps.”
One of the other scouts agreed, “Good plan, test everything before you make the first long jump.”
This started a discussion. How many sequential long jumps had been taken?
Finally, someone said, “Four in a row. Bad news is we know because they recovered the data from a ruined hulk.”
That sobered the crowd. I said, “On that happy note, I will take my leave.”
Lu said, “Die Bravely, young Ed.”
“Die Bravely, Lu. Die Bravely, scouts.” With their voices behind me, we left the card room.
I buckled on my gun belt. I carried the rail gun in a radical cross-draw position. The butt was next to my belt buckle. The knife was upright behind my back.
My two bots and I walked out of the Scouts’ Club and headed back to Shark. We again walked the mezzanine. I marveled at the responses and observations from my companions to the sights and sounds of the station.
My family was able to afford bots for each household. We avoided buying slaves. I was familiar with the latest Bot technology, or I thought I was.
Beverly and Agatha were beyond anything I had ever seen. Their mannerisms, behavior, and conduct were a mirror of human. I sensed that Great-Grandfather might have drawn the appearance specification. Beverly was tall, lithe and blonde. Agatha was petite, tight and brunette. Both had ample breasts, smooth tight tummies, shapely legs, and small tight asses.
They were trained to perform every shipboard task. Beverly was the dentist. Agatha was the doctor. Each could act as the other’s nurse. Agatha was even certified as a general surgeon. Both would also be Shark’s emergency medics.
We reached the airlock into Shark, and entered the bridge together. I tossed the updated data chip to Crystal. “Please review this, Crystal. Please prepare for departure.”
I continued, “Please perform pre-launch checklist. Please secure clearance and course from Yard Master.”
Beverly and Agatha were each at a console. All of Shark’s consoles and control panels had permanent Bot interface cables and neural helmet connectors.
I was sitting in a very comfortable “Captain’s Chair” observing the action around me and also tracking data on the view screens. Crystal handed me the captain’s neural helmet. I put it on and went through the moment of disorientation as the helmet receptors meshed with my brain function.
The first pre-launch checklist was now “displayed” before my left eye. My right eye, which was my Master Eye, was observing the action on the bridge. I toggled the left eye display to show a sensor array view of the yard’s traffic. I highlighted Shark’s location.
Crystal laid in the course and speed approved by Yard Master on the display. I asked for final checklist items to be called out verbally as completed.
Beverly, Agatha, and Crystal called and verified each final item. Finally I heard from each.
Beverly announced, “My board is all green, Captain.”
Agatha announced, “My board is all green, Captain.”
Crystal announced, “My checklists are all completed and my board is all green, Captain.”
I said, “Please engage Shark’s navigation, running, spotlights, and all other external lighting. Please set all sensors to active.”
Crystal confirmed, “All Shark external lighting on now. All sensors active. ”
I said, “Please engage yard transponder and squawk 77777. Then return to yard assignment.”
Agatha confirmed, “Transponder function confirmed. We have received acknowledgment from Yard Master.”
I said, “Please sound last alarm and stand Shark away from airlock.”
A quiet gonging sounded accompanied by internal lights dimming. The ship moved to warp away from the lock.
There was another chorus from my three crewmembers. “Boards are still all green, Captain.”
I said, “Impulse power. Please set course and speed approved by Yard Master. Call waypoints as we reach them. Engage.”
Shark turned slightly and began to move.
My ship under my command was moving, albeit slowly, toward my destination.