Oklahoma Salvage Read online

  Conventional fuel shuttles were quickly eliminated as an option. Keener wanted to be able to traffic the whole system out to the asteroid belt. Harv finally dragged the key bit of info out of him.

  “Yes, I have reactor-based shuttles, and priced cheap,” Harv said, “No one buys the damn things because of fuel shortages and handling issues. I’ve got a few that fit the bill. One in that range might be light speed capable. I don’t know for sure though. Never had the plutonium to try it. Bloody hell, boy. You got cash and plutonium on that rig?” Harv shook his head as they rolled up to the shuttle.

  It had seen better days. It had front-end collision damage, and sand had drifted and buried one whole side.

  “Isn’t this an MP-82 Tug? Why the hell is it painted white?” Dave asked as he stepped out of the golf cart.

  “Before you get all excited, you gotta know a couple things, good and bad,” Harv spoke without leaving the cart. “I don’t know if it still has good seals. The primary O2 tanks are gone. The front is fucked and will not be un-fucked by me. It still has grav-plates but they are gen one top-foil, gull-wing types, and if one of them needs replacing it will cost you more than the rest of the ship.”

  “OK so far,” Dave said.

  “It has a Ball-Reactor but no fuel. None. Bone dry.”

  “OK.”

  “Batteries are dead. Deader than a doornail. All the comms gear is gone, but I’m sure Alex has some around here that’ll meet regs for legit use.”

  “The T-16 will fit if the bay is stock,” Dave said.

  “It’s stock alright. Mostly empty. Two of the four seats are gone. There are no living quarters. None. I don’t know if the head is functional.”

  “Open her up and let’s have a look,” Dave said.

  “And the worst news. I will need $30,000 in cash. Price is firm. Plus whatever it costs to get her flying.”

  “Do I get a discount for gold? Is gold alright?” Dave said. “How is it white? I thought it was impossible to paint these things.”

  Harv’s eyes had widened when he’d mentioned gold, but he didn’t miss a beat as he got out of the cart. “After the war we had all these scary-lookin’ black ships made out of Polycarbon that the chicken-shit public hated.” Harv was dragging cables from a generator out of the back of the cart, and then opened a panel on the side of the Tug. “The trick was they didn’t use paint. It’s a kind of molten glass coating. They found out too late that it would stick, but it would also melt off on high-speed atmo re-entry.”

  As Harv plugged in the cable, the panel lit up. Harv’s fingers flashed over the keys, and in a minute the center back hatch swung inward. “The aft container docking clamps are gone. Can’t tug nothing. Come on in quick -- gotta keep the goddam dust out. Wreaks havoc on the CO2 scrubbers.”

  Dave ducked his head and stepped in, and Harv closed the hatch as the lights started to come up.

  Dave turned back and looked at the hatch. It was in the center of the back wall of the bay and would be part of the floor with the ramp lowered. The T-16 would fit in here, but only sideways, and you’d have to climb over it to get around it.

  The place was a mess. Cable trunks hung from the ceiling, and trashed panels from the exterior damage were in piles. The cockpit area was no better. Floor panels had been removed; empty equipment racks lay strewn about. Everything was dirty and covered in dust.

  “What went there?” Dave pointed at two major racks, empty except for knots of cables.

  “Comms went there,” Harv said. “And an AI refit was once done there. And no, I got no AIs for sale. If I had, you couldn’t afford it for cash. That truck ain’t big enough to hold that much gold.”

  “Not interested in buying an AI. Comms gear and a working head on the other hand…” Dave moved some floor plates that were leaning on the wall to get to a tiny door behind them. “At least it’s a Zero-G toilet,” he looked again at the floor plates. “No grav-plating?”

  Harv just laughed. “It does have inertial dampeners. And no, I have no idea if they work.”

  “Ball-reactors require 7-centimeter pellets of plutonium. That may be a problem,” Dave said as he opened the containment unit once the light went green.

  “If you got Plutonium 238, I can convert it to the right size, that might work. For a fee,” Harv said.

  “What was lost with the nose?” Dave looked out the cockpit window. The cockpit was all the way to the left.

  “Water storage, long range comm antennas, docking thrusters, and the forward airlock. I can’t replace any of that; this is the only Multi-Purpose-82 in the yard. Alex could call around though. May be easier to fabricate one if we can find the specs. That would seriously cost you though. But it can fly without all that, and we could always add it later if you want.”

  “Harv, if the Grav-Foils work, I think we have a deal.” He held his hand out to shake. “Do you mind if I camp here a couple weeks while I refit? Provided the AC works.” Harv took Dave’s hand in a firm grip, “Not at all. As long as you don’t bother Alex. She will kill you if you piss her off.” Harv grew serious now. “I will also need payment in advance before I let you take a screwdriver to anything.”

  “Understood.”

  Dave helped Harv off-load the generator from the golf cart. They serviced the shuttles batteries by adding water. Even with all the breakers off they started charging. Harv radioed Alex to write it up and start the minimum required paperwork for signatures.

  By the time they got back up to the store, she already had a pile of comm gear on the counter. It was the original gear she had salvaged out of the MP-82 and never sold.

  “Harv, is the original comms out of the 82 included in the $30K?” she asked.

  “Might as well be. Kind of an apology for the mess you left in there!” Harv laid a penciled list on the counter. “He will need all this; the tab starts here.”

  Dave walked in backwards through the front door. He struggled under the weight of an old ammo can that he had retrieved from his truck. He set it carefully on the counter. “That is $50K.” He sucked on a pinched finger for a moment. “That should cover the initial cost of the boat and the ass-load of other stuff it will need. Let me know if this runs out.”

  Alex opened the ammo can and pulled out a small ingot. “Mind if I run this through our sifter? No offense.”

  “None taken. Please do. The market has shifted a bit since I got these,” Dave said casually.

  There were fifty ingots marked $1,000, each with the standard date time stamp and sifter seal. It took her about ten minutes to run them all through their sifter and the new ingots came out. It was a device that tested the gold by reducing it to dust and scanning it. Weighed into new ingots based on the market value of gold on that day. The end result was a value of $51,220.

  ***

  Most people were initially lost in the yard maze as soon as they moved away from the highway. Dave, however, pulled his truck back through the maze and parked next to the MP-82 without difficulty.

  Alex watched on the security system as he set up a shade fly 30x30 meters, covering his truck and the shuttle. It was the new kind, where all you had to do was secure the four corners and activate a small grav-plate in the very center. It would rise and make the fly tight. Rain or shine.

  Alex quickly grew bored watching him. She had no view inside the MP-82 unless he was sitting at the pilot seat. He would come up to the store a couple times a day with lists. He’d pick things up and drop off more requests.

  ***

  Two weeks in, the only brand new items he had requested were seat cushions for the pilot and co-pilot. They were delivered on the morning she saw him taking down the shade fly. She hopped in the golf cart and drove them down herself.

  He had just finished stuffing the fly away into its bag as she pulled up.

  “Hey, Dave,” she greeted. “The seat cushions finally came in.” She climbed out and lifted the oversized box from the passenger seat. “Thought you might like them right away.
”

  “Excellent. I was just about to test the Gull-Wing controls and foils.” He tossed the shade fly bag in the back of the T-16. There was nothing but military cases, crates and gear bags back there. “Want to ride along?”

  She replied without thinking. “Sure.”

  He held a tarp aside so she could enter the shuttle first. The tarp kept the dust out and saved cycling the airlock all the time.

  Alex could not believe the transformation that had taken place inside. It was clean. It was organized. One end of the bay housed a well-lit work bench supported by two portable tool chests, each a meter tall. The opposite end of the bay had a fold down wall-cot with a thin mattress, neatly made.

  As Dave tore open the box and unwrapped the cushions, Alex continued scanning everything over. She saw that the eleven replacement battery cells had already been installed. All the cockpit consoles were powered up and standing by. No cables hung from anywhere, and all the floor panels had been reinstalled. Smooth, new floor panels, where the two missing seats had been, were now in place, and it looked like it had always been a two-seater. All the interior lights worked.

  “Holy shit. You have been busy,” she laughed as he tossed her the old torn cushions. She packed them into the box that the new ones had arrived in. Dave collected the box and took it outside. On his way back he took down the tarp and secured the hatch.

  “Nothing else to do around here. Besides, this is fun.” He sat in the pilot’s seat and started buckling the harness. “Oh, man. My ass loves you.” They both laughed.

  That was when she noticed the harness buckle was broken on the co-pilot side.

  “Dammit, I need to add that to the list,” Dave said as he stopped strapping himself in and started to get up.

  “It’s alright. It’s just a low hover test I presume,” Alex said.

  “And a bit of maneuvering. I have the thrusters charged as well, thanks to Harv and his tank truck,” he said, frozen halfway unbuckled.

  “What are you going to name her? All men name their ships. Pick out a name yet?” she chided.

  “Actually, I have.” He grinned, “Alex, meet Siva.” Dave gestured towards the ship.

  “Siva, eh? Let’s go, just don’t tell Harv.” She sat and activated the copilot seat. It slid forward into position, and the console came alive. She scanned the status board and reported, “Batteries fully charged. Reactor online. The positive pressure test is green, and Gulls are up. Foils are standing by.”

  Dave’s seat slid forward as he spoke, “Can you fly? You sure sound like you have co-piloted.”

  “Yes. Sometimes Mark needs help bringing auction items home. I’ve even been to the moon for stuff.” She sighed, “I wish I could do more auction work. I’m kind of stuck in the store.” Still scanning the status board, she noticed the comms systems were all green. “Comms too? You are good!”

  “I haven’t tested them yet. No call sign, no ship ident codes,” Dave said, trying to seem busy with something else.

  “I can test it with my call sign if you want. I do it all the time from here. From the bench in the shop.” She reached towards the transmit controls but waited for permission.

  He stared blankly at the console for a moment, saying nothing. Alex knew the look. He was consulting something in a Heads Up Display.

  “Why not? Be cool, though.” He smiled.

  His smile didn’t go all the way to his eyes. Alex felt unnerved but didn’t know why. She set a frequency and activated the system. “Alexandra3737 for a radio check.”

  Immediately the comms responded with a voice that had a thick Texas drawl, “Alex… how ya doin’.”

  “Doing fine Mikey, how’s the signal?” Alex replied.

  “Signal good, power good, encryption is tight. Want to know how tight?”

  “Not really, Mikey. I’m here with a customer,” Alex responded.

  “Oh… er… sorry, Alex. It all looks good. Full freq cycle,” Mikey stammered.

  “Thanks, Mikey. Say hi to your mom for me.”

  “Will do.” The connection dropped.

  “You’re good on comms,” she said. “Mikey hit frequency switching encryption to test the spectrum. We do this a lot. You should be golden on all channels.”

  “Thanks, Alex. That was easy. I was scratching my head a bit on that.”

  It told Alex way more than Dave realized. He was actively trying to keep this whole rig off-the-books. Alex had been doing the same thing for years. She’d never even gotten a HUD. No way to stay off-grid once you plug that in. Comms in an ear cuff was good enough for her. She could take it off and leave it behind.

  While thinking this, she noticed that the power systems were all up and green for the empty AI rack. “You should keep the rack cold if it’s not being used. Open leads can be bad. Shorts, fires and shit. I even accidentally electrified a floor plate once.”

  Dave looked over at the status board and got that look again for an instant. “I secured all the leads. Harv said he might have a local in-system nav unit that might work in there. I had to make sure there was power before he went off looking. You ready?”

  She nodded and watched the panel as the Gulls deployed and the foils activated. The ship began to rise in a vertical take-off.

  “One meter per second. Three meters per second,” she said. The salvage yard fell away around them. Visibility wasn’t good on this thing. Looking directly down Alex saw five more ammo cans as the tarp that covered them blew aside. It made her wonder. She shook it off. None of her business.

  Dave began a simple rotation as they rose. “Looks good so far. Foil balance is good. Uniform 46% utility remains.”

  Alex tapped the console to see if it changed. “Forty-six percent will last you years, even if there is daily use. With that Ball-Reactor up, it will last longer still. It will charge at light speed,” she said as Dave began a slow drift toward the shop. “Come on, Dave. Knock the dust off this thing.” She smiled at him. Daring him.

  “OK. Hold on.” He slid the thrusters’ control forward. And soon they were going 200kph over the open desert. Leaving the yard behind.

  “How’s it feel?” she asked.

  “The controls feel like shit. Can aerodynamics get any worse? Manual says it should cruise at 600kph. You hear that?” Dave asked. There was a rapid hammering or rattle coming from somewhere.

  She did hear it. “Better slow down. I think there’s something hanging from below. A loose cable or something snagged on the skid.”

  He did slow, and the sound stopped. As they turned, he added, “I was hoping to forget about the nose. All the damaged parts have been removed, but the manual controls feel like they are in cement.”

  “Cement?” she asked, unfamiliar with the term.

  “It’s like foamcrete, liquid rock.” He shook his head. A light turned red on the status panel. It was number one of the three skids. The front one.

  “Shit, can we land this on a tarmac somewhere?” he asked. “Preferably closer to the bathrooms. The head still isn’t sorted out.”

  “Sure. We’ll have to walk back and get the rest of your stuff.” She pointed. There was an open pad just within the shadow of the water tower. “Land on 21D. There is also power and sewer there. Might be handy for fixing the head.”

  There was a great groan and a thunk as they set down. As her chair slid back and the shuttle powered down, she noticed the power to the empty rack stayed up. Dave was out the hatch quickly and around the front. They had indeed knocked the dust off. The white was now too bright where the sun was on it. She had left her hat back in the cart. She’d better retrieve it before Harv saw her.

  “Fuck,” she heard from underneath the nose.

  She saw the problem right away. It hadn’t been a cable; it was a hydraulic hose from the front skid. Luckily the front skid was down and locked.

  “Good thing you didn’t retract the landing gear. It would never have lowered again.” She could see where the loose end of the hose had battered all the
glass paint off. “Oh, no. You scratched it.”

  They both laughed as he stood. There it was again, though: the laugh did not reach his eyes. Her gut twisted for an instant. No idea why.

  “All of this was drifted in sand.” He looked around. This is a good spot. He pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil, just like Harv always did. “How much room is left on the tab?” he asked.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Harvey suddenly appeared from around the side of the shuttle. “What did I tell you about test flights?” Harv groused at Alex but was already on his knees looking at the strut. “And where’s your hat, dammit?”

  She didn’t think this was the right time to indicate that he was not wearing one either. Harv was laying on his back now, awkwardly adding to a list on his own notepad.

  “We are going to get the rest of Dave’s stuff and the cart, Gramps. We’ll be back in half an hour,” she said, holding a finger to her lips for Dave’s benefit.

  “DON’T CALL ME THAT!”

  “Ok, Harv.” They walked away, amused. “By the way, the bathhouse is right there.” Alex pointed to a small building, “You smell like ass. Just sayin’.”

  Dave laughed again. This time, he seemed genuinely amused. Her odd feeling faded.

  ***

  It was almost an hour before they were back. They loaded the rest of his gear into the truck, and the generator back onto the cart. Dave no longer needed it. When they pulled up beside the MP-82 Harv was gone. He had connected the ship to the landing pads’ lines for water, sewer and power before he left.

  “I’ll be in the store if you need anything,” Alex said, not getting out of the cart. Her hat was back on.

  “Thanks, Alex. I may drop off a list later tonight. Depends on what Harv says I need. I swear he’s testing me by comparing my lists with his.” He waved as she started to pull away.

  When she walked through the front door of the shop, Harv was sitting on one of the counter stools, arms crossed over his chest, brows furrowed.

  He looked old to her for the first time in her life. And worried.

  She chose her words carefully. “I’m sorry, Harv. I meant no disrespect. And I will stop bugging you about the hat thing.”