Boy’s Own Starship: Chapter One

I’m telling you,” Eric said, his face flush with enthusiasm, “we can do this!”
“And I’m telling you we don’t have the money,” John said. His brother had always been the careful one of the duo. He’d gone into engineering, while Eric had studied interstellar piloting and navigating. “Even if we combine both of our trust fund payments for the next decade, we won’t have enough money to purchase an interstellar freighter.”
Eric smirked. “I've got a plan,” he said, ignoring his brother’s sarcastic eye-roll. “We purchase two scrap freighters.”
John gave him a sharp look. “Scrap freighters?”
“Yes,” Eric said. He held out a datapad. “There are two Century Hawk-class light freighters at the scrapyard, on sale for a song. Neither one can fly on her own, but we can cannibalise the first ship to make the second fly and add a few other components to improve her. A stardrive, for example…”
“I see.” John scanned the datapad thoughtfully then looked up. “They do seem to match up. We could use one to make the other fly. But why didn’t the scrapyard operator do it himself?”
Eric shrugged. His brother was right to be wary. “The design is very old,” he said. “Anyone who has the money would prefer a modern ship, complete with modern systems. These ships are over fifty years old.”
John nodded, thoughtfully. “And they’d need a proper stardrive to be competitive,” he said, begrudgingly. “If we could install one.”
“We could do it,” Eric said. “This is our chance!”
They exchanged long looks. They’d been trust-fund children for a long time, ever since their parents had vanished in interstellar space and left them—and their older sister—alone. They were hardly poor or starving, but they couldn’t take control of the family corporation until all three had turned twenty-five and that was over thirteen years in the future. They’d spent the last five years living in the mansion, studying desperately, and hoping—against all odds—that their parents would miraculously return. But they’d grown tired of waiting, and they didn’t want to grow up like so many others they’d met over the last few years. They wanted to emulate their parents and do something with their lives.
“Maryam will have to sign off on the expense,” John pointed out, finally. “How do you intend to convince her?”
“She signed a permission slip,” Eric reminded him. He winked. “Is it my fault she doesn’t have time to authorise every expense separately?”
John stood. “Let’s go then, shall we?”
Eric nodded and led the way to the aircar pad on the roof of the mansion. They both had flying permits, but they weren’t allowed to fly personally without a qualified adult beside them…one of the many rules and regulations on Old Earth their parents had chafed against, when they’d been young and intent on building up an interstellar shipping corporation of their own. Eric wondered, sometimes, quite why their parents had never moved to the colonies, where men could breathe free and laws were dictated by common sense rather than bureaucratic inertia. Earth had better schools and industries, but anyone could take the schooling modules and learn at home rather than attending class with hundreds of other students. Eric had gone to school with the super-rich—or, more accurately, the children of the super-rich—for a year and he had no intention of going back. He’d never met quite so many spoiled brats in his entire life. Even the ones who were eighteen were going on eight.
The aircar hummed into the air and flew north, the autopilot taking them away from the mansion and straight towards the giant scrapyard hundreds of miles away. It was meant to be a repair and renovation centre, he’d been told, but most starships landed in the scrapyard were left to die. He’d checked, out of curiosity, and discovered that anything capable of being useful—still—was never scrapped, merely passed down to a new set of owners. He frowned inwardly, wondering—despite himself—if there was something wrong with the scrapped freighters. They might have fallen through the cracks—too small to be useful—but it was still odd. The asteroid miners tended to be unconcerned about the exact state of the starship as long as it could hold an atmosphere and power a drive.
John leaned forward as the scrapyard came into view, miles upon miles of grounded starships from the last hundred years of interstellar exploration and settlement. There were ships so old they predated faster-than-light travel and ships so new they were younger than John, although they were visibly banged up so badly it was clear they would never fly again. The distant refineries were working hard, breaking down the scrapped ships and recycling as much as possible for transfer to the orbital industrial nodes. What little was left would, eventually, be thrown into the sun. He sucked in his breath as the aircar landed neatly, the two boys scrambling out to be met by the manager. The man looked unsure of himself…
Eric smiled. So much the better.
“We spoke earlier,” he said, before the man could say a word. Adults tended to get rather pedantic, when dealing with children…never mind that Eric was a teenager and John on the cusp of joining him. “Please show us to the Century Hawks.”
The manager nodded and led them through the gate and into the yard itself, passing dozens of scrapped vessels. There was little security, nothing to keep the locals from sneaking in and night and taking whatever they wanted. Eric suspected the scrapyard’s owners simply didn’t care. If the locals could make use of something from the yard, they might as well have it. Anything truly valuable would have been removed long ago. They walked past a giant freighter that had been modified so many times, before being finally scrapped, that it was impossible to tell which class she’d originally been, then paused as the Century Hawks came into view. They were ugly as sin…
…And yet, they were also the most beautiful ships in the known universe.
He stared. The ships looked like crude arrowheads, antigravity nodes clearly visible on their hulls and a mighty sublight thruster to their rear. Their hulls looked scarred and pitted, but his visual inspection suggested there were no cracks or obvious weak points in the hull. He’d looked it up, when he’d realised the opportunity in front of him, and noted that the design was surprisingly tough. There were records of a Century Hawk coming down hard, practically crash-landing, and being put back into service within a week. Eric was fairly sure the crew had gotten very lucky—his instructors had drilled him mercilessly, before giving him his licence, and pointed out that a single mistake could easily get the entire crew killed—but they had survived. Any landing was a good one, as long as you could walk away from it.
“Your ships,” the manager said. “Let us know if you want to purchase them.”
He turned and walked away. Eric grinned to himself as he led the way towards the hatch. He’d been to a dozen used starship dealers, over the last couple of years, and all of them had tried to talk up the ship as much as possible, glossing over precise details that might have cost them the sale. Eric had tried to purchase a crippled starship once and had only been stopped, thankfully, by the rules governing his trust fund. It had been irritating, but he had learnt a useful lesson. Perversely, the manager’s lack of concern was surprisingly reassuring. The man had nothing to gain—or lose—if they purchased the ships or not.
“The interior is a little rank,” John commented. He dug his engineering toolkit out of his belt and deployed the scanning microbugs. The tiny machines would survey the ship from bow to stern, then relay their findings to John’s wristcom. “Other than that…”
Eric barely heard him as they made their way through the ship. The internal lighting was online, revealing small cargo holds and cabins and a bridge that was barely large enough to be called a bridge. He was mildly disappointed to note there was no command chair, merely three control stations…but then, the freighter was hardly a giant interstellar warship. The systems were powered down, the consoles dark and silent…he reached for a switch, thoughtfully, then stopped himself. They might have been told the ship was effectively powerless, save for the lighting, but his instructors had cautioned him to take nothing for granted. It was unlikely the scrapyard’s engineers had been particularly careful when the ships had been moved to their final resting place.
John knelt on the deck and studied the live feed from his microbugs. Eric left him to it and walked through the remainder of the ship, feeling as if he were standing in the midst of a ghost vessel…although one with massive potential. The cabins had been stripped bare—he opened a pair of drawers, just to be sure, and found nothing—and the holds were completely empty. He hadn’t expected to find anything, not after the ship had been searched multiple times, but it was still a little disappointing. There were all sorts of stories about people discovering hidden treasures in their new homes, or starships; indeed, some of the stories were actually real.
“I’ll have to inspect the other ship, then draw up a work plan,” John said, as Eric returned to the bridge. He sounded as if he were slowly coming around. “It should be doable.”
Eric grinned, smugly. “I told you so.”
“We haven’t made it happen yet,” John cautioned him. “And we’ll need to find a stardrive.”
“There’s bound to be one around here somewhere,” Eric said. A new-model stardrive would be expensive, but an older design would come cheaply…if they could find one. “Or we can find one in another yard.”
“If,” John said. He glanced at the holograms projected by his wristcom. “The internal datanet needs replaced, or modernised. The life support system is in good condition, but I’d be happier with a couple of back-ups. The navicomputer really does need to be replaced, if we want to take the ship out of the system. It was never designed to work with a stardrive.”
He paused. “We’ll have to buy that one new.”
“Joy,” Eric muttered. They might be wealthy, even by Earthly standards, but there were limits. “What else?”
“They tore out the onboard fabbers and food recyclers,” John said. “We’ll need to replace those too.”
“We could just stockpile regular food,” Eric reminded him. “And…
His brother interrupted him. “And what happens if we get stranded in interstellar space?”
Eric nodded, curtly. “Add it to the list.”
John stuck out his tongue. “Add it to the list? I thought you were keeping the list.”
“I am,” Eric said. “But you need to keep a list too.”
He sighed, inwardly, as they headed to the second starship. The interior looked a great deal more cracked and broken, to the point he honestly wondered if the starship had been boarded by pirates, but enough systems remained intact to allow the ship to be cannibalised. He followed his brother through the hull, trying to breathe through his mouth, as they checked each and every component before retreating back to the fresh air. Something was clearly rotting away, inside the second starship. Rats, perhaps. They had a nasty habit of sneaking onto starships and riding into interstellar space. The hull should have been fumigated, he reflected as they made their way back to the office, but if the vessel was being scrapped it was possible no one had bothered.
The manager nodded politely. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“We’d like to buy both hulls,” Eric said, flatly. “And hire a crew to transfer them to the local spaceport, once we have made arrangements for the refit.”
“Of course,” the manager said. If he had any doubts about selling two hulls to a pair of teenagers, he kept them to himself. He’d have checked Eric’s piloting licence and John’s engineering licence when they made contact the first time. “I’ll see to it personally.”
Eric nodded as he withdrew a credit chip from his pocket and placed it against the reader, bracing himself. The expense should have been pre-authorised, if he’d done everything properly, but it was just possible the bank might balk. The trust fund wasn’t unlimited…he gritted his teeth in annoyance, remembering the spoiled brats who had unlimited access to the family’s bank account despite being underage. If he had that sort of money, he could buy a modern freighter and outfit it out of pocket change. He breathed a sigh of relief when the money was transferred, without a hitch.
“We’ll be in touch,” he said. “Thank you.”
His wristcom vibrated the moment he stepped outside. He glanced at the message and swallowed. GET BACK HERE NOW!!!
“Three exclamation marks,” John said. “Who was it who said that three exclamation marks was the sign of a deranged mind?”
“I can’t recall,” Eric said, as they hurried to the aircar. Maryam normally minded her own business, and kept her head firmly buried in her studies. If she was calling them home so urgently…he felt his heart sink. Maryam was their legal guardian, to all intents and purposes, and if she wanted to say they couldn’t go…he closed his eyes as the aircar took off, mentally rehearsing his arguments as they flew back home. “We have to convince her.”
John giggled. “You could always tell her we’ll be out of her hair for good,” he said. “She hasn’t forgiven us for chasing Hank away, remember?”
The aircar landed neatly on the rooftop landing pad, and the two boys made their way down to their sister’s office. She was sitting behind her desk, reviewing expense records… Eric wondered, suddenly, if she’d left a flag in the family banking accounts, a computer program designed to alert her if a large sum was withdrawn in a single transaction. It wasn’t impossible. She might not have absolute power over the family business, not yet, but she did have a great deal of influence.
He composed himself as his sister scowled at him. “You called?”
Maryam didn’t smile. “And what, exactly, are you boneheads thinking? Spending most of your trust fund on a pair of clapped-out starships?”
“Which can be combined into a single working starship, with a little sweat and blood,” Eric said, easily. It was hard to keep his voice steady. He wanted to yell at her, to demand to know why she thought it was any of her business. “We can install a stardrive and take her out on an interstellar cruise…”
“And then what?” Maryam met his eyes. “How do you intend to make enough money to keep the ship running?”
“Most interstellar freighters are huge, and their prices are correspondingly huge,” Eric pointed out. He’d spent years digging into the economics of interstellar travel. “It can be very expensive to ship goods from star to star, even if you only hire a tiny hold on a giant starship. Our ship is smaller, with smaller running costs, and we won’t need to charge through the nose to keep the ship running.”
“And we also have the remainder of our trust fund for the year,” John put in.
“And we can ship goods quite some distance,” Eric added. “Foodstuffs, colony gear, modern computer systems…all worth very little here, but worth their weight in gold on the other side of explored space.”
Their sister looked unconvinced, crossing her arms under her breasts. “And how exactly did you get me to agree to pay for all this?”
Eric kept himself from smiling. Somehow. “You pre-authorised trust fund expenditures,” he said. He couldn’t quite keep the smugness out of his tone. “There was no need to consult with you, as long as we didn’t overdraw the account.”
Maryam gave him an icy look. “You are aware, of course, that your licences are dependent on you having a qualified adult accompanying you,” she said, disdainfully. “How do you intend to address that problem?”
“No one is going to inspect a single light freighter,” Eric said. “And once we’re away from Sol, no one is going to care…”
“I wouldn’t put money on that,” Maryam said, coldly. “And if you do get inspected, what then?”
Eric hesitated, unsure what to say. If they did get inspected…
“You come with us,” John said. “You are an adult, are you not?”
“That doesn’t mean I want to come with you,” Maryam pointed out. “Who else can you ask?”
Eric thought fast. There wasn’t anyone else. The handful of household servants hadn’t signed up for interstellar voyagers, and he didn’t want to ask them in any case. They didn’t have any close adult relatives, or they’d have been living with them, and asking a stranger was asking for trouble. Maryam was the best choice, if they had to have an adult, and yet… she was their older sister. And she could be a real stick-in-the-mud at times.
“You’re studying to become a doctor, right?” Eric spoke fast, before either of the other two could come up with a response. They weren’t the only ones who wanted to be more than just trust fund babies, waiting for full control of the family fortune. Maryam had decided she was going to be a doctor long ago, perhaps even before their parents had vanished. “You need interstellar experience, if you want to get ahead in the field. Right?”
Maryam nodded, shortly.
“So come with us,” John took over. “Eric does the flying, I do the engineering, you do the medical stuff. You’ll be listed as ship’s doctor. You can carry on with your studies while we do our thing, and when we get home you can say you’ve been an interstellar doctor.”
“It might work,” Maryam said, slowly.
“And you wouldn’t have to deal with all those boys who come crawling round,” Eric put in. “Wouldn’t that be great?”
Maryam had to laugh. “Let me check the paperwork first,” she said, firmly. “And read through the requirements for interstellar medical experience. And if that works…”
Eric grinned. They were going to space!