CREW
Commander Dan McLain, nicknamed 'Viper', was in command of His Imperial Majesty's Long-range Strike Ship 73, nicknamed, the 'Loony Bin'. The crew had heard someone call it that, and the next day the name was mysteriously painted on both sides of the bridge.
A Strike Ship carried a normal crew of six and was a hyperspace, sublight and atmospheric capable craft. It was three hundred meters long and fifty meters in diameter, with retractable wing control surfaces for atmospheric flight. It had hydrogen-fueled fission power, and was easily refueled by using a ram scoop in a shallow pass through a gas giant's atmosphere.
The ship passed from sublight to hyper by slingshotting around a gas giant to bring the speed up close to lightspeed, and then switching to the hyper-engines. The process was reversed, to slow down.
The ship also had teeth the equivalent of a small Destroyer. It had four missile tubes forward and two aft, with eight on each broadside with two pulse laser fore and aft with six on each broadside. It also carried four ECM drones with that could be made to resemble any ship's emissions, to simulate another ship. The small ship's main flaw was the restricted magazine space. They only had two spare missiles for each tube, without resupply. These were sometimes a few and far between. Luckily, the extra large engines would recharge the lasers at a rapid rate. The cost of the ship, to the Empire, was about the same as a small dreadnaught.
Shelia, the ships AI, was the heart and soul of the Loony Bin. Sgt. Michelle "Mike" Andrews was the Pilot/Sniper. She had the popular 'girl next door' looks, but the attitude of a stepped on rattlesnake!
Sgt. Jim "Doc" Adams was a Combat Medic and Ship's Surgeon. He always had three or four scams going on... be it a bootleg still, or a floating crap game.
SSgt. Dave "Wiz" Willard handled Communications, AI Tech, and Ship's Engineering. He could make a computer do things the designer had never thought possible. Totally a recluse, if it was not a computer or a ship's component, it barely existed to him.
Cpl. Cynthia "Scrounger" Davis cared for the ship's weapons and the demolition ordinances. She could make a weapon or explosive out of most anything. She was also an accomplished thief. Just tell her what you needed, and she'd find a way to get it... just don't ask where it came from!
CHAPTER 1
I had just cleared customs from a commercial interplanetary flight, when the customs agent said, "Commander McLain? We have a message that as soon as you arrive on station, we're to send you straight to the Admiral's office. He wants to see you as soon as possible."
I knew when Admiral Kelly said as soon as possible, he meant NOW!
"Can you watch my bags?" I asked, hurrying off for the Admiral's office.
On my way there I was wondering what the hell I was trouble for, now? Admiral Kelly always seemed to 'have it in' for me and my crew.
"Commander McLain, Admiral Kelly will see you now," the Admiral's receptionist said.
As soon as I walked into the Admiral's office he turned to me and said, "I don't know who you know in the Emperor's Court, but when I requested a court marshal, I was told to stand down and post guards. You would handle it when you returned. By God, I want their asses for this!"
He proceeded to tell me of the charges against my crew in my absence.
"Now it can't be all that bad. First of all, that sailor had no business pinching Mike's ass. He's lucky she didn't rip off his arm, and feed it to him."
"Secondly, there's no proof that any of my crew stole anything, including those fembots. Now I know that Wiz is a little strange, but what the hell would he want with a fembot, let alone two of them? All he seems interested in are computers and AIs."
"And lastly, what were Mike and Adams arrested for? I didn't think that singing was a criminal offence... though with their voices, maybe it should be. And as far as them powering up the ships weapons... it's an Imperial Order that Strike Ships and their crews are off limits to base and system personnel. They even have authority to place this system under martial law, if they deem it is needed. They are subject only to others in their own chain of command, or the Emperor himself... and you are not in that chain of command."
"No, but I am in charge of this sector, and this base! So I order you to relocate your ship and that meatball crew of yours to level Q, section 7, space dock 3. If I see any of your crew in the rest of this base, except on official business, I will have them shot. You will stay there 'till your ship rusts away. Any missions will be attended to by one of the other crews."
"But, Admiral, that's not fair. Besides, I'll appeal to the Emperor, personally."
"How? You need my permission to use any of the stations resources, and that includes communications!"
"OK. You win, for now. As you know, Lt. Johns requested and was granted a transfer. Is there a new Exec to take his place?"
"Yes He should be here in three days. I handpicked him, myself. He should fit right in."
Great! I could just imagine what kind of Exec the Admiral would pick.
