Star League - The Last Zomban

SL-TLZ Chapter 3 Salvage

“I’m gonna call out thrusters in one second bursts each in succession until we’re in. I want this done right the first time.” Donnos Zen makes no attempt to hide his anger. This day has turned into a complete disaster. He’ll be glad when it’s over and he’s safely back in port. It’s because of days like this he hates the junk business.

He stands on top of the dead drifting ship he was sent to salvage and looks over at the battered ship assigned to him in the distance taking a beating by meteorites, the sound of each strike raising his blood pressure. He shakes his head. It’s as dead as this drift I’m standing on, he thinks. The system wide asteroid field known as the Wasteland is a dangerous place for working ships let alone hapless ones. This is not the place where you want your ship to break down. He’s still not sure; signs point to sabotage. He’ll find out later what really happened. Right now he just wants to collect the drift and go home and get paid. 

Donnos lies flat out on the smooth metal of the drift and guides the boxy salvage bay down over them. The bay itself has its own issues so pulling it up inside is no longer an option. He makes the calls as he sees them, the bay above slowly descending on them. Forward, reverse, right, left, left, forward, reverse, forward. Finally, “Fire all thrusters! Ten seconds!” Next to him on the hull, his trainee Krag counts down.

****
Krag is always given the countdown so he starts counting on cue. He doesn’t mind because it helps him to stay focused while his mentor works his magic; the man never disappoints him. Donnos likes to keep him on his toes. He constantly tells him that even the most impossible tasks can be made simple, like manually guiding a drift inside the repair bay relying on only your eyes and your instincts. Technology makes everything seem easier but not all instruments can be trusted, especially aboard Jal’s flying death trap. Yes. Krag is always amazed by his mentor.  Except for today; He can't help feeling that Donnos is wrong this time.

As he counts down from ten to zero, Krag feels his excitement turn to terror. He feels Donnos smiling at him because his voice wavers when he reaches five. The ceiling of the salvage bay is coming at them too fast. His first instinct is to roll off the edge of the ship but they are too far amidships and completely out of time. When he reaches two, he squeezes his eyes shut and prepares for the crashing sound of metal on metal. No. He prepares for his bones to be crushed against the metal. And then he hears nothing.

Krag opens his eyes. His pupils adjust between his visor and the bay ceiling. The closeness makes him very uncomfortable. “An inch?”

“Did you doubt me?” Donnos eyes his protégé suspiciously. “Do you have no faith in my abilities?” The boy’s fear amuses him. Krag makes him feel young again.

Krag, on the other hand, knows that Donnos will age him. He gives him an incredulous look. “You stopped this ship within an inch of my life?”

Donnos raises his eyebrows in a way that Krag interprets as a shrug.

Krag rolls to where he can stand and breaths deeply. “I hate you.”

****
Donnos’s smile widens. He thinks back to his first solo assignment for Deep Space Salvage. He had secured a drift in the shipping lanes. He then decides to take a short cut through the outer edge of the Wasteland when he spots a ship wreck on an asteroid, still with power and air. He goes aboard to find Krag, dirty faced and the sole survivor of his entire family. Through sheer ingenuity and a little bit of luck he adapted to his surroundings and survived for almost two months, out of rationed food and getting closer to death. So impressed with what he saw, he decided to keep the teen with him rather than turn him over to the system. He has never regretted his decision. To show his gratitude, Krag gives him his father’s ship, which is now repaired and modified twice over.

“Secure the drift!” Donnos yells into his mic. In a flurry of motion, the entire deck crew runs on his command with cables in tow to connect all eight sides of the ship taut to keep it from moving in any direction when they get under way.

Donnos scans the repair bay hoping to see Jal somewhere within. When he doesn’t, he  settles his eyes on the crew chief, Deke. He is forward of the ship helping secure a cable. He kicks in the tiny engines of his booster jetpack and boosts himself over behind and beside him. The young man next to him, Goot, struggles with a huge open end wrench. He fumbles and drops it when Donnos lands next to him. Deke reprimands him and hefts up the wrench as if it were made of plastic. He regards Donnos from over his shoulder. “This is definitely a Magorr ship although I’ve never seen this design.”

Donnos agrees. Before he can stop himself, he finds himself yelling. “Why are the bay doors still open? We need to get out of here before something else happens!”

Deke turns to face him; the scowl across his face tells Donnos that he has crossed a line with the short tempered old Valdan. No one speaks to him that way – no one!  His grip tightens on the unusually large wrench in his hand. The fact that he can lift it is amazing by itself. Donnos wonders if he will actually swing it at him boss or not. He will have to take him out fast if he does because he knows Deke well enough to know he won’t stop after just one hit.

As if reading his mind, Deke relaxes his grip. One look at Donnos says that this man has been through enough trouble for today. With controlled breathing, he replies with a hoarse voice, “Save it for the old man. He’s still on his bridge.”

Donnos slaps him on the shoulder, a show of camaraderie. He did regret his outburst almost immediately. He understands Deke more than most. He keeps to himself these days, rarely engaging in conversation of any kind with anyone. It keeps him out of trouble. Trouble is what got him where he is now.

Despite his rough appearance and homicidal outlook, no one would ever think that the seasoned old scrapper has a degree in Species Psychology, ship architecture and mechanical engineering. He had originally wanted to be a school teacher but one too many fights led him astray from that path. The civilian police wouldn’t have him so he joined the military and eventually got thrown out for dishonorable conduct. So he went into the salvage business with all the other rough and tough rejects.

Donnos chin taps his mic. “Jal, the drift is secure and we’re ready to move out.” His voice gets quiet and his body is trembling.

“Understood,” Jal replies “Are you ok?” He knows Donnos is mad.

“That ship you loaned me was programmed to kill me.” Donnos’s voice turns icy cold. “Would you know who did that?”

Jal picked up on the inclination immediately. “Are you accusing me?”

“If the key fits-“

“If you are accusing me, you’re through with my organization.”

“I’m through with you anyway! This is my last job! My crew and I are out of here when we get back to port.”

Jal sounds exasperated. “Do whatever you want. I don’t have time for this now.”

Donnos eyes fall on the drift. “And I expect double hazard pay.” Silence fills the air waves.

****
Donnos hates the junk business and he hates Jal Oakraider for luring him into it. The pay is not that great and the ships are old and in need of modern upgrades that will never happen because the owner is a stubborn man, a snake and a scoundrel. Yet there’s something likeable about him or he would have killed him by now. Maybe he should have.

He met Jal a few months ago during the initial start of the Magorr – Felline war, when the Akledian were first asked to intervene. Donnos almost got tied up with the military. He took a job as a freighter pilot to deliver supplies to the outposts in the Wasteland. His third stop was destroyed, the remains being picked through by an outlawed group. His freighter was shot up pretty bad yet he managed to escape the pirates before breaking down entirely. When Jal finds him, he claims to own him body and soul. At first Donnos thinks this man is one of the pirates but when he smiles, he sees through the joke immediately. Still, Donnos’s instincts tell him not to trust him and his instincts never lie. At the same time he takes an instant liking to him.

On the way in to port, he looks more into Jal’s operation and he likes what he sees. Not allied with the Akledian military, he changes jobs almost immediately. Jal agrees wholeheartedly, tells him his father doesn’t pay hardly enough for the things he expects people to do for him. Jal is the son of Jolan Oakraider, Empor of the Akledian Empire. When Donnos questions him about it, Jal just says he’s an independent contractor.

Jal too took an instant liking to Donnos and brought him into his family for a time. They became fast friends. But that ended rather badly not too long ago. Jal was not being good to his wife and Donnos told him so. A new argument later, Donnos came to Vicki’s aid and Jal threw him out, screaming to mind his own business. He later apologized for his behavior but Donnos could see in his eyes that they would never be the same again. And now he has proof that Jal tried to kill him. 

****
Motion shakes him out of his reverie, a vibration that runs through the entire structure of the bay from the ship attached to it.  The Scowl engines are powering up, gathering strength to push the ship forward; the hum increases and then suddenly stops. Donnos’s jaw drops open. He locks eyes with Deke, who just shakes his head. Neither one needs confirmation to know that engines just stalled. Not here. Not now.

“Not to worry…” is all Jal ever says to something like this. “These things happen.” It happens a little too much on anything Jal owns. “Buy used and make it work,” is what he is fond of saying. What everyone else says is “You are such a tightwad that you never fix or repair anything until it is dead in space.”

The engine builds up again and again it stalls. Donnos hangs his head in his helmet. “This day can’t get any worse.” Just then, the oxygen alarm sounds inside his suit telling him that he is getting low. Donnos silences Deke before he could say anything.