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Ah the exuberance of youth.
Was I ever young? Since my body is a human one, I assume I came from an egg, fertilized in the womb of my mother and born like everyone else. Pete always called me Kid. I suppose that means he saw me as a kid, although Pete was getting up there in years so maybe a lot of people looked like kids to him. The problem is, other than a few flashes, I don't remember the time before the cyber device. The whole part of my life that I can remember has been me taking care of Pete, and taking care of the Haul-o-caster. I don't remember ever being a child. Did I play? I don't remember playing.
All this is to say, I was not prepared for how PO Smart, cheered on by Barns and Shelly, attacked the idea of getting the Old Pack Mule up and flying.
"Captain! OPM has a small personal shuttle in one of it's cargo bays!" PO Small barged into my office, all excited. Not so much the breach of etiquette it sounds, since I keep my door open, but still a surprise.
"And?" I knew the shuttle was there, in fact, it's new in the box. It hadn't even been assembled yet. Pete and I hoped that it would stay there until we had a chance to come back for it. Pete wasn't the most physical of people, so moving it was out of the question. It was much too big for the two of us, and assembling the shuttle, while possible, was a lot more work than Pete wanted to do.
"With a little help, Chief W and I could have it up and running in a few hours." PO Smart explained. "We could use it to go exploring and maybe find some engines for the OPM." The crew had taken to calling the Old Pack Mule "OPM" for short. It was growing on me. I even considered trying out "HOC" for the Haul-o-caster, but who would want to be in hoc?
"We're planning on leaving as soon as we get everything re-organized." Moving all our stuff over from the Golden Screw had to be accomplished quickly, so everything was just tossed in willy-nilly. I was having Cmdr. Barona get it organized so we had a better idea of what we had and where it was. She, of course, was having the entire crew take shifts, so they could pull everything out and do a good solid cleaning while they were at it.
"I'll do it in my off time Captain." PO Smart promised, "I really think that even if we didn't manage to find engines for OPM, it might be advantageous to have a shuttle on board."
He had me there.
"OK, tell Commander Barona that I'm moving you off of spring cleaning and putting you in charge of shuttle building duty. Get help when you need it. Don't try to lift the heavy stuff by yourself." I said. You might think I just gave him the best present ever. Maybe I did. Cmdr. Barona was turning into a bit of a slave driver with the spring cleaning project. All I asked for was a little organization.
Later that evening I walked out to see how the reorganization and cleaning was going, and... Found nobody. Apparently, PO Smart's enthusiasm was infectious. I found the whole crew in the main cargo hold of the OPM, putting a second shuttle together. These weren't standard shuttles either. They looked a little bit like a cross between a fighter and a shuttle, all sleek and aerodynamic, but had colorful stripes like a show craft rather than a military craft, and there were no weapons.
"Captain!" PO Smart said excitedly when he finally saw me. "There were two of them, and I think they're designed for racing!"
Sure enough, now that the first crate was broken down and out of the way, I could see there had been a second crate behind it. Since Pete and I could never move the first one, we didn't try too hard to look at what we couldn't get to.
"Those look amazing crew." I told everyone. "I'm sure we'll be able to put them to good use."
"We're about to send the first one up on it's maiden flight. Do you want to join us?" Cmdr. Barona asked. I could almost hear the "I hope not" in her voice, which tickled me a little.
"How many people can fit?" I asked. The shuttles were pretty small.
"Only three, maybe four if one of them curls up in the tiny cargo area behind the rear seat, but we weren't going to do that, they wouldn't be able to see anything anyway." PO Smart answered.
"Very well," I said, "I'm sure the people who did the work should get the first rides. I can try one out later."
The test flights went off without a hiccup, although it became apparent that they were more than just test flights. Lt. Cmdr. Dorn flew OPM-1, while Cmdr. Barona flew OPM-2. Under the auspice of running "test flights", the crew were looking for something they could salvage engines for OPM off of.
Between flights, I asked why the shuttles were named for the Old Pack Mule rather than the Haul-o-caster, and after a little hemming and hawing, it finally came out that everyone was so excited they didn't think about it. That was the first time I suspected that I was losing my crew. It wasn't so much like they were abandoning me, or betraying me, it was more like even after all we've been though, I was still an outsider. A non-Morganite. When everything gets boiled down, that made every difference in the world.
A little later, I pulled Commander Barona aside.
"I would like to concentrate on getting the Old Pack Mule up and running." I said.
"But Captain, you said before that there was no way to salvage her engines." Cmdr. Barona replied.
"I may know where we can find some. It isn't ideal, and we would have to install them and get out of town pretty quickly, but I think it's doable."
"Surely you aren't thinking about stealing them from someone!"
The surprise in Cmdr. Barona's voice made me laugh.
"Nothing like that." I explained. "When I was on Angmar VII before, there was a salvage yard near the settlement. It's probably still there. I'll take a shuttle and see if they have some suitable engines. We have an entire tank of water to trade. You would be amazed at how much water is worth here. If they do, you can come pick them up with the Haul-o-caster. Either way, be ready because we'll need to get out of dodge quick in case someone recognizes us."
"That sounds dangerous Captain," Barona said. "I should go rather than you."
"Would you be able to tell good engines from bad ones? No?" I said, then smiled. "No worries, I'll take Dorn with me in case I need a little muscle. It'll be fine. If we don't find engines, rather than lead someone back to our hideout, we'll pick a rendezvous spot and you can come pick us up in Hauley."
"I'll inform the crew." Cmdr. Barona said, "We will be ready either way."
To my surprise, it didn't take long for Chief Williamson and PO Smart, helped by the rest of the crew, to get everything ready on the Old Pack Mule. I ended up working on getting the reactors up and running. The reactors on the Old Pack Mule used an older design, so neither the Chief nor PO Smart understood them. I made sure to write documentation as I went so they would be able to maintain them.
The flight to the salvage yard was quiet. I could tell that Lt. Cmdr. Dorn, never a dynamic conversationalist anyway, was entertaining himself flying the shuttle. I have to admit, those little things are pretty zoomey. Soon we started seeing a small amount of traffic.
The settlement on Angmar VII isn't what you would normally think of as a settlement. The main part of the settlement revolves around one of the larger manufacturing clusters. Off to one side, you can still see where mass driver that once launched large ship pieces into orbit was once located. The mass driver itself is gone of course, so the place is more a hole in the ground than anything. The main thoroughfare of the settlement is under ground where the central line that assembled those pieces was probably located. On either side of that long tunnel, for lack of a better word, where all the factories, offices, and warehouses that provided support and parts for the line was located, is where everyone lived and worked.
There was no government and no rules. A person owned what they could defend and protect. Normally a place like that would devolve into chaos, and either die off or end up being enslaved by whoever was the biggest or most violent. Somehow, that didn't happen on Angmar VII. My personal theory is that it's such a rathole that nobody wanted it. The result is, if anyone wants to move in, they either had to move someone else out - typically using violence - or just find an empty spot and take it.
Ships landed wherever they wanted. There are numerous places to set a ship down, and it isn't like Angmar VII has any services to offer. No water. No reaction mass. There really isn't a lot to recommend the place other than it being about as close to an Anarchist paradise as is possible.
Of course, I know all this second hand. When we were there, Pete never let me off the ship at the settlement itself. I did, however, get to leave the ship in the salvage yard. It was back before I had built up the impressive cache of spares, and we ended up needing a few things. Pete, as always, was mostly useless for identifying components and testing them to make sure we weren't being ripped off, so he took me out for a stroll to look for stuff.
The salvage yard is located not far from the settlement, in another manufacturing cluster and basically consists of any ship that crashes on Angmar that the proprietor can find. There was also a couple ships there that landed for maintenance, but the crew either didn't understand how to survive on Angmar, or didn't have the supplies to. I hoped that we would find a couple engines for the Old Pack Mule from one of those ships.
Flying over in the shuttle, I could tell the salvage yard hadn't changed much since I saw it last. There was definitely a couple new wrecks added to the collection over the years, and it looked like it was open for business. Sadly, the engines I remembered them having were no longer there. Thems the breaks I guess.
Dorn and I were met by a the familiar, if older, fat guy who ran the yard when I was there with Pete. He looked Dorn up and down and apparently decided that being belligerent wasn't a good idea. Me, he ignored, but that was expected. I wore my cloak with the hood up so he couldn't get a look at me.
"What can I do you for?" The salvage yard manager asked.
"Good morning sir, I am Lieutenant Commander Dorn. We are looking for engines for a small frigate."
"Very good, we have engines that might work, nothing as fancy as a frigate, but they should limp you back home. Show me what you have for trade!" He said.
"We have water." Lt. Cmdr. Dorn told him.
"On that pip-squeak of a shuttle? Not enough for engines you don't."
"On our ship. There is plenty enough."
"Oh, I doubt that. You'll bring me the water, and maybe I won't let on that I saw the Morganite fugitives."
With that, I surprised Dorn by pulling out a blaster and shooting the man.
"Head towards the office, we'll clear it and make sure this one doesn't have any friends." I ordered.
"Captain, I... you, you killed him!"
"Yep." I pushed the man's arm with my tow revealing that he concealed a small blaster of his own. "He was waiting for just the right chance. Apparently, the bounty on us is dead or alive."
Dorn regained his composure quickly and grabbed a blaster rifle from the shuttle. Then headed for the office.
"Keep on the lookout for boobytraps." I warned him. Good thing too, because the office was thick with them. Rather than try to disarm them all, Dorn and I backed our way out. The people on Angmar VII are clearly more paranoids than I expected.
"There still could be someone in there." Lt. Cmdr. Dorn warned.
"With that smell?" I asked, only half joking. "We'll watch our backs while we look around for engines. If there is anyone still in there, they are welcome to whatever is left. We aren't here to rob the place." The irony of that statement wasn't lost on me, but I am sure that guy really was watching us, or Dorn at least, for an opening. As soon as Dorn was distracted, he would have made his move.
I didn't want to wait around to see if my sudden violence had bought us time or not. So after pulling the body off to the side and hiding it under a piece of scrap metal. Dorn and I carefully started working our way through the yard looking for what we needed.
It didn't take long to find what we were looking for. We found a nice big pleasure cruiser that had seen better days. Practically everything was stripped from it but the engines. It may seem weird at first, but this isn't all that uncommon. Engines for a ship of any reasonable size are big, bulky things. Pirates like to grab things that are small enough transport and easy enough to turn into credits. You can't usually do that with engines. On top of that, getting rid of these engines would have been especially hard because they were built to match the esthetic of the pleasure cruiser all sleek and white with gold accents.
"We'll paint them black and grey to match the Old Pack Mule. You'll see, they'll be awesome." I told Lt. Cmdr. Dorn when I saw him grimace at the engines.
Once we had a good start on getting the Engines disconnected from the pleasure ship, we called Barona for our ride. We wanted to keep the Haul-o-caster here at the salvage yard for as little time as possible.
The operation went of without a hitch. Dorn and I were nearly done getting everything disconnected by the time Cmdr. Barona and Hauley showed up. All that was left was to cut the supports that physically tied the engines to what was left of the ship. Barona had Barns hover the Haul-o-caster close with the main cargo hold, cargo one, open, and PO Smart hopped over to help us put a harness on the first engine. Once it was hooked up, the good Chief used cargo one's lifter to lift the engine right into the bay. Rinse repeat and enjoy with the second engine.
Lt. Cmdr. Dorn and I were soon in the shuttle following the Haul-o-caster back to home base. Most of the crew had stayed with the Old Pack Mule getting everything prepped. When we got there, I was amazed at how much work they got done. They had even replaced parts of the hanger's crane system to help lift the engines into their new homes.
The smooth, sleek engines from the pleasure ship looked out of place bolted to the sides of the old freighter. Someone, I never found out who, managed to find the original serial number tag still riveted to a support beam in the bowels of the old ship. The freighter was well over three hundred years old, and had been built by a shipyard I had never heard of. It must have been refitted a few times since the fuselage was originally set, because the ships systems weren't anywhere close to that old. Even then, a vast majority of those systems had to be replaced with components from my spares.
I was impressed that I had enough spare parts in my spare parts cache to practically build an entire ship, but I guess I shouldn't have been. I will admit to a little bit of sadness to see them go. It had taken me years to build up that collection. Pete was a good man for humoring me. Sure, most ships had backups for the few critical systems the ship couldn't do without, and maybe a few spare parts here and there. But I didn't stop there, I had spares for every system on the ship, plus spares for the backups, and then a few extra spare parts, just in case. Well, not anymore. Now we had an Old Pack Mule.
I wasn't able to watch the whole time, so I had no idea what all they took. As soon as I had time, I was going to do a comprehensive inventory. I was itching to hit that salvage yard again to look for replacements, but I knew we couldn't do that.
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