The Star Pilot Blues

Also by Dietmar Arthur Wehr

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The Star Pilot Blues

Watch for more at Dietmar Arthur Wehr’s site.

The Star Pilot Blues

By Dietmar Arthur Wehr

Copyright 2024 Non-Linear Visions Inc.

This is my 37th novel. You can find links to all my books (incl. FREE books) and audiobooks on my website.

https://dwehrsfwriter.com/

I wish to gratefully acknowledge the following Patreon supporters, who have made pledges at the Vice-Admiral (or equivalent) Level.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five:

Chapter Six:

Chapter Seven:

Chapter Eight:

Chapter Nine:

Chapter Ten:

Chapter Eleven:

Chapter Twelve:

Chapter Thirteen:

Chapter Fourteen:

Chapter Fifteen:

Chapter Sixteen:

Chapter Seventeen:

Author’s Comments:

Chapter One

I STEPPED OFF THE TRANSPORT ship and onto the deck of the Fortuna Station with a renewed sense of purpose. The trip here had been tedious and long and I started to think maybe I’d made a mistake resigning my commission from the Core Systems Navy. The CSN was expanding its territory and, therefore its Navy as well. Promotions were occurring faster, but my reason for joining the CSN in the first place was no longer valid. When I graduated from the star pilot training academy, I joined because they offered incentives such as a share in prize money for captured pirates or enemy ships. I was lucky enough to participate in two pirate captures, and my share of prize money, which I could only claim when I left the Navy, was close to being enough to buy a small starfreighter. My plan was to wait until I could add the prize money from one more capture, but the CSN decided that they didn’t need to continue offering financial incentives and that meant no more prize money. It no longer made financial sense to stay in the Navy, and here I was on Fortuna Station, the home of Doppler Interstellar, the acknowledged builders of the best small-to-medium-sized starships.

With my robotic luggage dutifully following behind me, I made my way to the nearest information kiosk and quickly found out where the Doppler Interstellar offices were located on the station. On my way there, I looked around. Fortuna Station seemed to be about the same as most space stations. Garish décor in the public areas contrasting with dingy and sometimes smelly corridors. The strobing laser lights started giving me a headache as they usually did. No wonder most of the people I passed were wearing VR eye gear. If nothing else, it blocked out the lasers. I made a mental note to self to buy a set and saved it in my cyber memory To Do folder along with the hundreds of other notes to self that I hadn’t followed up on yet.

The offices were open, and as I walked in, I saw the Receptionist sitting behind a virtual desk. My first impression of her was that the Company had spent a lot of credits on acquiring an android receptionist that looked remarkably human. She had platinum blonde hair that gradually changed to blue at the ends, and her eyes were the bluest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, as was the color of her lipstick. She had flawless white skin. Her red outfit was so perfectly formfitting that It was hard to tell if it was worn or painted on. Her breasts left nothing to the imagination as far as size and shape were concerned.

How may I help you, sir? she asked in a soft voice that made me feel like I was just waking up in bed beside a real female.

I sighed. If I answered that question truthfully, you’d probably call Security, and then I wouldn’t be able to buy a gently used star-freighter. I resisted the urge to wink at her because it would have been wasted on an android.

Her polite smile took on a distinctly amused profile as she looked me up and down. You could always save the truthful answer until after you’ve bought that gently used star-freighter.

It suddenly dawned on me that I was talking with a real live woman. That would depend on whether I find a good deal or not, I said with what I hoped was just the right amount of flirtation.

Her amused smile faded just a bit. It actually depends on whether you make a deal or not. Window shoppers don’t interest me. Successful men interest me. I charge a lot...and I’m worth every credit.

I kept my expression from showing my disappointment. Her interest in me was clearly financial and nothing more. If I had wanted to pay for a good time, I probably could have rented a sexbot for a lot less somewhere on this station. Since I wanted her cooperation in my quest for a ship, I had to play it cool.

I’m absolutely certain you are. Let’s discuss this further after I buy my ship, okay?

Fair enough. I’ll let our Manager of pre-owned ships know of your interest, Captain...

The name is Rook, Bishop Rook.

Captain Rook. She closed her eyes for a second or two, and when she opened them, she said, He’s on his way down. Do you play chess?

I chuckled. If I had a credit every time someone asked me that, I’d be able to afford two sexbots.

How did you guess?

Amusement returned to her smile. Just lucky, I suppose. Here’s our Manager, Tiberius Maxxim.

I turned just in time to see a well-dressed executive type enter the Reception area. He was shorter than me, with short hair the same colors as the Receptionist, whose name I still didn’t know. I wondered if the hair color was a Company trademark or something. He held his hand out, and I shook it out of sheer reflex.

Welcome to Doppler Interstellar, Captain Rook. I understand that you’re looking for a...what was that phrase...oh, yes, gently used star-freighter. We certainly have those. If you’ll follow me, we can get started. As he let go of my hand and started to turn around, he gave Miss Mercenary Receptionist a nod. I did the same. She nodded back at me. I told my luggage to wait here.

As I followed him into an elevator, which seemed to know on its own where to go, he turned to me and said, It would help me to show you the right ships if you could tell me the maximum amount you’re willing to consider paying, Captain Rook.

I pondered whether to tell him the truth or obfuscate in order to give me some flexibility in negotiations and then decided that telling him a lower amount might end up backfiring on me if a ship I could afford wasn’t shown to me. Two hundred thirty-three kay, I said with as much indifference as I could muster. To his credit, Maxxim didn’t flinch, for which I was grateful. When it comes to star-freighters, even smaller ones, that wasn’t a lot of purchasing power.

Oh, very good, he said, and I almost believed him. We have two craft that would fit into your budget. Well, three, actually, but you probably wouldn’t be interested in the third one. It’s very old and very...odd. The two I have in mind are specialized designs. The one is lightly armed with minimal protection, but it has a lot of cargo space, relatively speaking. The other is the exact opposite. Decent armor, decent weaponry, and therefore limited cargo capacity. Perfect for carrying high value, low bulk cargo in dangerous areas...such as maybe illegal goods? That last part was said in a tone so low it was almost a whisper. I had considered smuggling but reluctantly came to the conclusion that I wasn’t savvy enough to avoid getting caught at it.

Let’s see the first one, I said.

Very good then. The elevator stopped, and as we exited, I could tell from the smell that we where in a part of the station where ships were docked. I don’t know why, but ship docking bays always smell the same; a mixture of spilled sewage, lubricating oils, ozone, and something else that I didn’t really want to know about. After we walked down a semi-dark corridor for almost a minute, we came to a docking bay hatch that had a barely readable number 38 on it.

Here we are, said Maxxim. He waved his hand over the security device, which changed from a red to a green indicator light, and the hatch door swung open.

The ship inside was smaller than I was hoping to find. I recognized the model and it wasn’t a Doppler Interstellar model. This is a Gorgon, I said.

Maxxim sighed. That’s correct. We took it as a trade-in. Were you hoping for an inexpensive Doppler model? I nodded. He shook his head. "I should have asked you if you had a brand preference before we arrived down here. My mistake. The second choice is not a Doppler Interstellar model either, I’m afraid. It’s a Red Shift model. I regret to say that we don’t have any Doppler models in your price range.

I made a point of staring at the Gorgon while I pondered what to do. Gorgons had a reputation for being temperamental and Red Shift ships tended to have a rust problem. That was why I wanted a D.I. ship in the first place. Their models had a reputation for durability and reliability. It looked like Miss Mercenary Receptionist wasn’t going to be happy with me, which was okay with me, but I still needed a ship.

What about the third one? I asked with some trepidation. Is it a Doppler?

I could tell that Maxxim was hesitant to answer. Ah, partially, he finally said. It’s a customized hybrid of a General Aerospace troop shuttle and the back end of a Doppler Interstellar Savannah model star-freighter.

You can’t be serious.

I am. It’s actually a clever configuration. The operating stats are quite impressive. The pilot who paid us to merge the two parts was quite pleased with the result. He operated it successfully for a year and then traded it in for a new and larger D.I. model. That was thirteen years ago.

I shook my head in disbelief. If the operating stats are so good, why hasn’t someone snapped it up long ago?

Because of its appearance. Compared to the hybrid, this Gorgon is a masterpiece of elegant design.

I had trouble believing that. Gorgons weren’t just temperamental. They were also considered to be downright ugly ships. I wasn’t going to fly something that made this Gorgon look good, but I was curious to see the damn thing. That was my first mistake.

I have got to see that thing just to satisfy my curiosity. I noticed that a mischievous grin crossed Maxxim’s face.

Of course! This way. I followed him back to the elevator, which stopped several more levels down. That level was even darker and smelled worse. It reminded me of dungeons the Roman Empire might have used.

I’m guessing you don’t bring potential buyers down here very often.

No, not often, and not just because this ship is old and unusual. I regret that you have to put up with the smell. The Company has given up asking station management to clean this level up. Here we are.

I was surprised to see that the actual bay containing the hybrid was brightly lit and relatively odor-free. Then I looked at the beast. Maxxim hadn’t been kidding about the Gorgon looking good by comparison. The ship was not even remotely streamlined due to the various kinds of antennae and other devices that a troop shuttle didn’t need, but a starship did. I walked around it in horrified fascination. The large doors on both sides that allowed troops to disembark quickly were still there. It occurred to me that loading and unloading cargo would, therefore, be fast. The back half from a lobotomized Savannah star-freighter contained all the engineering; the power plant, N-drive, star drive, and life support. Since the Savannah was a Doppler design, that suggested that those systems would be reliable. The more I looked at the beast, the less horrified I became.

The interior is actually quite nice. Would you like to see it?

I knew I shouldn’t. I was already rationalizing away all the objections to buying this abomination, but somehow, I heard my mouth say yes. One of the cargo hatch doors swung open. I entered first and realized I was hooked. The interior was nice. The Mad Genius had added what looked like wood paneling to the bare metal walls, a comfortable sleep area, and a compact galley that was well laid out. Maxxim had obviously had practice because he anticipated my next question by opening a door behind which was a toilet, washbasin, and a narrow shower. Mad Genius, indeed. A shower was rare on one-man starships. I almost succumbed to the impulse to ask Maxxim if there was room for a sexbot, not that I had one, but hey, you never know what the future might bring. Instead, I asked to see the cockpit. Maxxim still had a silly grin on his face. I think he knew that I was hooked, and all he needed to do was reel me in. The cockpit was about as nice as a cockpit could be. It had all the right equipment laid out in what seemed to be a carefully thought-out arrangement.

What about the A.I.? I asked. That silly grin disappeared.

The Captain who commissioned this project didn’t trust 7th generation A.I.s. He insisted on a 5th gen version. Its Hessline rating is only 61.8.

Sounds like he didn’t trust 6th gen either. I’ve flown with 5th gen A.I.s. They can be a pain in the ass. I shook my head carefully and deliberately. This might just be a deal breaker.

Maxxim didn’t seem to be fazed at all. I made another mental note not to play poker with him.

The addition of the A.I. was modular, he said. I think the builder wanted the flexibility to upgrade later. Ripping this system out and putting in a 6th or 7th would be easy and quick.

"If I can afford it. Let’s power this beast up and see what the diagnostics say."

No sooner had Maxxim turned on main power than I heard a female electronic voice. Proper maintenance procedures are not being observed.

See what I mean?

Maxxim nodded his agreement but said nothing. He was watching the main display to see if any systems came back as offline or less than optimal status. Three systems did show as not operating within normal parameters, and one of them was the star drive. That was not good.

I seem to recall that the previous owner operated this ship with these systems, as they are now for several months without any problems, said Maxxim as he turned back to me. If that was true, my respect for the Mad Genius was misplaced. No pilot in his or her right mind would continue operating a ship with a star drive that was less than optimal if he or she could help it. I decided to see how low I could get Maxxim to go on the price.

Considering the system issues, the A.I. issue, how long this beast has been docked, and the Company’s lack of success in unloading it on some poor dumb bastard, what is D.I. asking for this monstrosity? Maxxim took his time answering. I was pretty sure that he was correctly deducing that I would buy the ship for the right price.

One hundred, kay?

That was actually not a bad number. A hundred thousand credits was less than half my bankroll. Even if I had to pay for bringing the questionable systems up to snuff myself, I’d still have enough left over to buy supplies and cargo if I wanted to. I was just about to say okay when I heard the A.I.’s voice again.

Proper maintenance procedures are not being observed. Possible violation of station regulations.

There was no way I was going to spend days, weeks maybe even months on board this ship listening to that nagging. The best A.I. is a silent A.I.

Twenty-five kay, I said.

Maxxim’s eyes opened wide in shock, and I didn’t think he was pretending. If I took that offer to my superior, he’d fire me, he said. After a couple seconds pause, he said, Seventy-five kay.

I shrugged and turned as if I was about to head for the exit. I wonder how many more years the Company’s money will be tied up in this wreck before someone else expresses interest?

Wait, I stopped and looked at him. He shrugged. I can’t go lower than 75K, but I can throw in the cost of bringing those systems up to normal parameters.

Including the A.I.? I said without any hesitation. I could tell that he wanted to say no, but he restrained himself.

The Company will cover half the cost of upgrading the A.I. to a 6th gen system. If you want to go higher, you’ll have to cover the extra cost yourself.

I could tell from his voice that I had pushed him about as far as he was willing to be pushed.