Space Wrecker

I looked at it saying, "thanks buddy for that vote of confidence." It only took me two reheats for the drone to tell me it was good, 'now buzz off.'

I missed lunch and somewhere halfway through arguing with the drone, rewilding the frame, or re-assembly, my stomach reminded me of the fact. I shut off the assembly video and stopped for the day.

The next morning I was woken up by the long range warning system, the sensors had picked up my escort. I cycled through my ADL's and picked a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee as I headed for the command center. When the medium range radar got a lock, those tiny blips became huge. Three massive tugs were already starting their turns to catch up to me when I passed them. It took a few hours for me to pass them.

"U.N. Galveston, this is Captain Anderson of the U.N.N. Tug Dublin."

"UNN Dublin this is Captain Mark Walker of space wrecker UF Galveston, I read you loud and clear."

"Welcome to Space Station Brigg's Captain Walker, we are here to assist you in bringing in the Sri Lanka. What is your calculated Slow down time?"

"Computer reads ten hours, twenty-two minute to static zero Captain Anderson from current speed."

There was a bit of a delay, "Captain Walker, can you repeat that last transmission?"

"Copy that Captain Anderson, Computer reads ten hours twenty-two minutes to static zero, from current speed."

I could hear the Captain blubber as he keyed back up. "Captain Walker, please recheck your calculations. The Dublin has you clocked at Four Hundred and seventy-five million MPH and your towing seven hundred and fifty-five million tons."

"That is affirmative, Captain Anderson, Ten point four hours to static with a safety factor of two."

"Are you sure your primary engine can handle the stress, Captain Walker?"

"Engines, as in dual, Captain Anderson. The Galveston sports two, seven fifties and I have four, five hundreds bolted on the Sri Lanka as backup."

"UF Galveston, sending course corrections to your flight computer."

I received the course correction, and they were deviating my flight path by a nanosecond in the 'Y' axis. I programmed in the course change over my AI's objections. The course correction would put me at least a hundred miles off the side of Briggs when I arrived.

"UNN Dublin, Course correction received and programmed in." I spooled up the Galveston's motors, "Burn in five." I didn't feel a thing as the motors pushed me a little to the left. The inertia dampers kept me from feeling the slight bucking through the coupling as the Sri Lanka changed course to follow the Galveston.

I confirmed the change, "UNN Dublin, confirm course correction."

"Captain Walker, course correction confirmed. Maintain present heading and speed for the next twenty-four hours."

"Copy that." I wanted to slam my fist against the counsel; frigging morons did not think I could stop the Sri Lanka. I pushed the button on the seat and went to the gym to hit the punching bag. I left my frustrations in the gym, then went downstairs to finish assembling the last Meg clamp for something to do. The replacement housing was going to take several days to print, but I could finish assembling the clamp and test the electronics.

I finished the clamp faster than I should have, after rechecking the connection and clamp I cleaned up the shop. I was still mad at the UNN for doubting my words. I cleaned and stored all my tools, even cleaning those I did not use. With nothing to do, I went upstairs and opened the file of Space Station Briggs.

Somewhere during the first page and the tenth, I fell asleep reading. The loungers were notorious for putting me to sleep. Something the sales agent was proud of and warned me about. I learned that space Station Briggs was a joint military and a private corporation that serviced military and commercial traffic that flew through this system. I was glad to read that. I don't think I could relax on a military station as I could with long haul spacers.

I checked the timer on the main screen. I still had five hours left before the Ship's AI slowed us down. I was several months ahead of the smaller maintenance drones that kept up the ship's internals in working order, but never the cleaning drones. For the next five hours, I cleaned. I was still early to the command center to watch the countdown. With over a minute to go, I called the Dublin.

"UNN Dublin, this is UF Galveston."

"UF Galveston, this UNN Dublin go ahead."

"Slow down sequence in one minute on my mark."

"Roger that Galveston, The Dublin, Dorshire, and Lexington are standing by to assist."

"Roger that Dublin, one minute in..., sixty seconds."

It took another forty-five second until the AI spooled the engines. At the sixty-second mark I felt a slight shift as the twin Cummings applied reverse thrust. I watched the ammeter slowly climb as all six Ion drives applied reverse thrust. It stabilized at sixty-five percent. I did the usual checks, visual on the coupling, oil pressure, temps. Hell, I would've gone out and kick the tires if I was planet side.

With the radar clear and nothing to do, I went to write to my folks since I would have access to the Verizon space network at the space station. At just over the ten-hour mark and the two hundred MPH mark, my ole friend Captain Anderson radioed a new course correction. Two degrees 'Y' negative and 'Z' positive a second of a degree. I guess the military finally decided the Galveston could stop the Sri Lanka all on her own. To be fair, she is a new type of heavy wrecker. Only number two off the assembly line.

Space station Briggs grew from a bright star circling a multicolored gas giant. Into a massive a Von Braun wheel type of space station with a multilevel docking ring around it. The torus had to be over ten stories tall and nearly two miles in diameter. It was a small human city in space. The closer I got, the more details I could pick out. The docking ring was a multistoried platform that looked like it could accommodate thousands of ships in a two-level docking feature.

One section had over hundred ships of war docked. Two Carriers were in their own oversized docks. Two carrier groups must be in station. One of the rare Martian battle stars stood off to one side with a few smaller transport ships running back and forth from the station to it. I have seen pictures of them, but this was the first time seeing one in actual life.

It was the size of a large asteroid, nearly fifty miles in diameter. It hung motionless in space, announcing to anyone that she had internal gravity plates on every deck and some massive inertia dampeners. The line of Ion drives around her center belt and bisecting her horizontal axis said this was not a static fighting platform, but a mobile battle station in her own right.

"UF Galveston, this is UNN Briggs' flight control, do you copy?"

"UNN Briggs this is UF Galveston we copy."

"UF Galveston, proceed negative fifteen degrees along spacial axis to dry dock one thirty-seven. Change to channel UHF eight and follow all Dock Master's instructions."

"UNN Briggs, Negative fifteen to one thirty-seven. UHF channel eight and follow all instructions to dock the Sri Lanka."

I confirmed with the Dublin and set the course on my AI. I drifted by an extensive selection of commercial transports from eleven of the distinct races that the humans trade with. Most of the ships had near the same design, long skeletal or lattice frames connecting the command center to the reactor, engine section with a sizable gap in between, for the standard cargo containers.

I think all the races copy the same design to carry the same cargo bins. Something the lazrid people designed. They were a small, four to five foot tall reptile looking people that reminded me of the small bipedal dinosaurs from earth's ancient past. The only difference was the engine and command center designs.

Dry Dock one thirty-seven had its lights on and my computer aligned me up. I could tell the four, five hundreds were a huffing and puffing as the Ammeter jumped all over as the Galveston matched the Torus's spin. Once everything was inline, the Dock Master gave me the green light to bring the Sri Lanka in at one MPH.

I watched the camera feeds from the Briggs and my own as we drifted in between the large docking clamps braking every few minutes to scrub forward momentum. I was close, but you could never align yourself up perfectly. As the Galveston went static to the Dock Master's orders, the docking crew moved the large dock clamps in and secured the Sri Lanka.

"UF Galveston, this is UNN Dublin. Nice work, Captain Walker. I owe you an apology and would gladly stand you a beer in the officer's hall, when you're done unhooking from the UNN Sri Lanka."

"UNN Dublin, This the UF Galveston, The second one is on me, Captain Anderson, when I finish securing the Galveston in a berth. Thank you and your team for the escort."

"Roger that Captain Walker, UNN Dublin out."

Once the Dock Master sent me the all secure, I fired up the drones to retrieve my gear. I fed the drone's transponder ID numbers to the dock Master so his won't interfere or run into mine. It took my drones five days to strip the Sri Lanka and restore all of my equipment. It was a zero equipment casualty trip, except the one hundred and forty-four mounting bolts fused to the hull to hold the four five hundreds. I noted that in my expense report to the admiralty, even there locations to be cut off later.

The admiralty was just as strict as my commercial customers were. Wanting to know every line item, expense, and why. Once my ship's AI confirmed, every piece was back inside and secured. I called Briggs Flight control permission to disconnect and a berth for a day or two.

The docking clamps made a loud thumping sound as they engaged in securing the Galveston to the torus. I sent my expense report off to the Navel billing office. By the time I finished a shower and dressed, my wrist tablet told me the airlock was pressurized, and they already connected the Galveston to the station services. Station services were already topping off my water tanks. Slipping my I.D. in my breast pocket and my communications tablet on my wrist. Palmed the door release and open the door.

First stop was customs. With nothing to declare, I slipped my ID in the reader and waited for the man to process me through. "Reason for your visit, Captain?"

"Resupply and maybe find a drink and meal that hasn't been frozen last century."

The guy laughed, then looked down at his screen. "A Wrecker pilot. Naaps commercial carries wrecker supplies. Down stairs, head clockwise, take the first power sidewalk to the main torus. Turn left again, clockwise, first elevator to the main deck, it's section two ten."

I nodded yes while typing the name in my tablet; I noticed Miller had a factory resupply store here as well. I touched that instead. As a preferred customer, I got a discount on perishables bought through them. An alternative path highlighted. I pulled my ID and headed off. Down stairs past customs I started passing a lot more people, and of distinct races coming and going from flights.

I saw the powered walkway up ahead and headed towards it. A couple of grays got on before me, well humans called them grays, but they really Allison's. Short human-like race with a grayish tint to their skin. Large heads and dark eyes with two flat nasal slits.

In front of them and were a couple Lazrid still in their space suits. A biped reptilian race that looked like short raptors of earth's ancient past. They had a wicked sense of humor and friendly personality. As a race I really liked them, and there woman, well, wide hips and small tits, and their love to fuck. As soon as the people got settled and shifted to the left, I stepped right to past them, walking towards the Torus.

I passed dozens of people, not really paying attention. I was no Xenophobe and had no problems with the other races. As one of my instructors on Earth used to say, all races' credits spend the same. I passed by some Dakarians. I was slightly uneasy with them. But it was just because I couldn't read a facial expression from them. They were an insectoid type species, their hard exoskeleton didn't move like a flesher's face.

The walkway made a radical curve, turning you perpendicular to the torus's spin. It was easier just to look down and follow the steps as the last of the gav-plates gave way to the station's natural gravitation from its spin. Once off the power walk way, I followed my tablet's instruction upstairs to the meg-train. I purchased a two-day pass with hopes to explore more of Briggs' station while I was here.

I crossed the bridge to the inner, counter clockwise train that only stopped at the ten-minute stations instead of the local that stopped at each. I caught the train as the doors were closing and found a seat. I searched the Miller website, confirming they had all the perishables I needed. Then opened the news net.

Negotiations with the Felidae were going well. I was watching a video of the negotiators leaving a hotel conference room. I didn't know the human team; I was more interested in the Felidae team. I never met a cat before, just saw pictures. They were as tall as the humans, somewhere around six foot to six foot six.

It looked like they had short yellowish looking fur. But these cats had on tight fitting leather clothes that hid most of their massive torsos and short pants down to their first leg joint of their digitigrade legs. Most mammalian species that evolved into space farriers evolved from four-legged ancestors and had digitigrade legs.

Humans evolved from apes and had plantigrade legs, they are more stable, but digitigrade legs offered more speed in a flat-out run. Their faces reminded me of a lioness's face. They took the video from too far away to get a clear shot.

The next story got my attention. The UNN courts ruled in favor of the telecommunications corporations and opened gamma sub space to everyone. They would still reserve certain frequencies as military only, but according to the article, this was going to revolutionize the communications across the galaxy. High speed Sub Space Gamma repeaters were already being deployed or turned on across the galaxy.

A representative from Verizon galaxy communications said that in the coming months people could send messages and news feed from one end of the galaxy to the other within minutes instead of weeks.My tablet beeped, letting me know this was my stop. The platforms here were nicer and had potted plants in the corners. I took an elevator down to the fourth floor.

The concourse seemed wider and lit a little brighter. You could still see the curve in the torus as you walked along. The store fronts here were a lot fancier. Most of the ones that I passed on this level were commercial transport dealerships. I passed most of the top brands until the large red 'M' caught my eye.

I walked in looking around the showroom; it had floor to ceiling monitors displaying Millers line of heavy wreckers. The right one was showing off the new M-five thousand. This was a newer video showing off the prototype and cutting to the construction of my five thousand, but it could have been the prototypes. As I watched the video, it came to serial number two sitting next to a Miller four thousand in dry dock. I recognized my paint scheme. The size difference was quite obvious.

I was admiring my ship when someone said. "That is our newest line of heavy wreckers, the M-five thousand."

I turned to the soft femanine voice to see a Percherian standing next to me. A bunny girl. The Percherian's resembled a bipedal rabbit. I have met some males of the species who were taking wrecker school, two really fun guys to hang out with, but never a female before.

She stood about five-five and had the whitest fur I ever seen. Her fur, or hair on top of her head was braided down between her long ears, I didn't dare let my eyes wander down any further, but I could barely make out her firm furry breasts pushing out her white button-down shirt. I looked into her blue on blue eyes and smiled.

"Hello."

"Hello?"

I smiled and offered her my hand, "sorry Captain Mark Walker from Back Water Recovery."

"Chree Ticaozah of Miller Industries, are you thinking of upgrading your current ship?"

I took her hand and gave it a light shake. Her fur was soft. She had a four-digit hand just like a human, but with one less finger joint. The pads inside her hand were just as smooth. I smiled, "Not at the moment," nodding to the five thousand video.

She lifted her left arm and hit a few buttons on her wrist tablet. "You should really consider the M-five thousand when you do. We just had one static stop, a Battleship all on her own." I turned around and saw the Galveston slowing the Sri Lanka.

I grinned, seeing the Galveston stop the battleship without blue cones from the front of the main engines, "Impressive isn't she?"

She smiled at me, "The news net is calling it one of the most impressive displays of the new Miller Five thousand. That ship is S/N-two, the Galveston. With this video being shown around the galaxy, Miller is offering several leases to own packages."

I smiled at her sales pitch, I did not want to lead her on, "I am sorry but I just stepped in to purchase some forty-two millimeter fusion bolts."

She smiled "You mean thirty-five millimeter?"

"No, forty-two millimeter by four point five pitch."

Her little face scrunched up and her long ears leaned forward slightly, "I don't think we carry them Captain. But you can check our online app."

"I did...," I typed on my tablet. "Here is its part number FNB-4245."

"It must be a new part number Captain, I am not getting it on my catalog. Here...," She turned to walk over to a desktop computer. I did a quick look down and up at her backside. She had those extra wide hips, and an impressive bubble butt, that I loved. Percherian, well most digitigrade legged species, their legs were hinged further to the sides of their hips than humans, which made her body type sport an impressive bubble butt.

She had a cute white fluffy tail sticking out of her pencil skirt. Someone actually tailored it to fit around it. Her legs were shapely, and she had wide footpads. I lifted my eyes when she walked around the counter and began typing.

"Yes, here they are. Most of the remote stores have not received the new catalog tablets as yet."

I tapped my tablet, "got mine a month or so back on Earth. It says you have two cases, one hundred and fifty in total?"

"Yes," She frowned, "Are sure Captain you need forty twos? It says they are a special size for the new Cummins five hundreds."

"Yes,"

She looked at me, then her eyes got bigger as she typed, "Captain Mark Walker of the Galveston?"

"Yes." I answered and handed her my ID to scan for the purchase, "I will take both cases and two dozen thirty fives. Can I get them delivered to berth two sixty-five?"

She looked at my ID, then at me. I know the picture was bad, but I didn't think we humans were that bad looking to Percherian's. I also know I do not cut an impressive figure at five, eleven and nudge under two hundred pounds. But none of it was fat I did worked out. Long light brown hair and golden brown eyes.

She slid my ID into her terminal. It must have confirmed something "You're the Captain of the Galveston?"

"Yes, I am."

She pointed at the wall monitor, "And you and your crew just brought in the Sri Lanka?"

I grinned, "I am the Captain and the only working crew member too."

"Your ship is famous right now; it is all over the space net. And what were they thinking of berthing you in the back with the rest of the commercial traffic, you should have...," Her computer beeped, distracting what she was going to say. She looked down. She typed for a second, "Ok your file says you have some equipment upgrades waiting to be installed."