Free Yorktown: Katana Krieger #1 by Bill Robinson

get the connection with his last name, but no joy. Must be a Marine thing for an Air Force guy.

He's already sitting in the front seat, I hop into the rear, and let the crew strap me in. They clear out, the doors open, and we "fall" out of the ship into space. I let Yeager do the talking and flying, I get on the screens and find our Marines, then feed a course suggestion to the front.

Half way in I make a status check.

" Yorktown , Krieger, status check."

" Yorktown nominal, sir," Shelby is back at me instantaneously, "First pictures from the ZR aren't pretty."

"Copy that. Keep me informed. Out."

Yeager parks us perfectly beside the Marines' boat, the jarheads already working the debris field. I help him set the gig to hold, then we open the canopy, detach our personal moorings, and follow. Marines are trained to investigate dead ships, and dead people on live ships, not something they probably specialized in 500 years ago, but when a smaller crew has a hugely beneficial effect on the cost of the ship, everybody in the modern world has to have lots of layers.

In this environment your mic is always on unless you do something about it, so we've been listening in while parking. The Marines have identified three bodies, none in space suits, and have laid out a pattern for random debris collection. I stay out of their way and use the small thrusters on my suit to go find their boss, Yeager trailing.

We find Palmer 10 meters in front of the ZR control room windows, supervising. I touch the controls on my left arm, setting my radio to the command channel so only he and I will hear (actually Yeager too, but he'd never tell).

"What do we have, lieutenant?" His people call him "L-T" after his rank, too familiar for the boss to use.

"We're moving containers out for the bodies, all female. They died from the ship opening to space, not direct enemy fire. There are body parts scattered throughout, which we will collect and catalog as well. Metal fragments show definite signs of energy weapons, not missile fire."

They know a lot for 15 minutes on site. Crew of seven on the escort corvette, four missing, but probably here in pieces. Twenty pounds of random debris will be enough to confirm the energy weapon theory.

"Feel free to wander around, captain," he says, "Please don't touch anything."

"Thanks Mr. Palmer, not my first rodeo."

I start by thrusting to the nearest body, which turns out to be Lt. Springs. If I hadn't just been warned, I'd have probably reached out and brushed the hair out of her eyes. My fault she's floating here, but I do make her a promise. I am going to find whoever did this and make sure no one can identify their remains.

The rest of the field is full of balls of metal, a sign that it was molten and reformed itself as it cooled, clean edges on all the larger pieces. Definitely energy weapons. Missiles leave jagged, lasers are clean. No sign that the reactor exploded though, which is unusual.

Twenty minutes is enough wandering around for me, I rejoin the lieutenant.

"Status, Mr. Palmer?"

"We'll be done in 25 minutes sir, back aboard by 0900. My report to you by 1100."

"Fine work, lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir."

"Sergeant Yeager, let's roll."

Thirty minutes later after showering and putting on a fresh dark blue uniform, I take back the bridge and send Shelby off for some well earned sleep. While I was gone, two more crewmen earned their two day passes by finding trace evidence of a ship passing through the system, enough different pieces that none of us doubts now that it is over 200,000 tons. We have suddenly become David holding his slingshot.

At 1400 we take Yorktown back to Beta station, and send the Marine squad that didn't travel this morning over to make sure there's nothing of interest in the mine. They report machinery functioning normally, bins indicating they were emptied by Trump as expected.

I get senior staff together to eat in my ready room at 1900, including Lt. Summerlin, and, after