“Understood, Mr. Bowman. See if you can make for the door in any way–we’ll finish locking things down in the control room and head in your direction to relieve you.”
They both leaped up to the top of the stack of shipping containers, their hearts racing with the effort and danger they were in. Several gunshots bounced harmlessly off their armor, but Louis grunted and fell sideways. The wound barely hurt, but he felt a wave of weakness rush through him that he could only barely counter with the suit’s internal medical systems. The telltales did what their names implied–a bullet had found a joint in the suit’s torso and penetrated through the overlapping armor layers, past the inner Kevlar layer and his skinsuit, and lodged between two of his ribs. “I… ow damn…” he whimpered. The antishock meds were kicking in, making him feel loopy and cushioned, and he hid behind Natasha.
“I don’t want to fire down into the floor,” she whispered, “we’ve got enough firepower that we might knock a hole in the hull and kill everyone in this compartment.”
Louis glared at her. “And they’re trying to knock holes in us and kill us, Tasha. I’d rather not die on my first real combat mission, thanks.”
“This isn’t a real combat mission. This was supposed to be a damned traffic stop,” she growled.
Louis clicked the safety off of his right arm gun. He wasn’t feeling stable enough to use both at once. Firing down into the crowd, he saw his bullets strike home. Red splashed the floor and the crew replied with more gunfire. He ducked behind the edge of the container and suddenly didn’t feel very much like moving again to expose himself. He told himself it was just the meds. Just the meds and not the wound.
Natasha ducked behind the container, muttering stream-of-consciousness sacre. “Shit de marde de vierge de bateme de calvaire de pisse d’ostie de tabarnak!”
She clicked off the safeties of her guns and started firing.
Chapter 13
Dog Two-oh-Four was angling in on her sister ship and its erstwhile quarry, now prisoner. Two-oh-Seven had been docked for twelve hours, and Four was finally in sight of her. Commander Saitova chewed a knuckle in thought; her three enlisted crewmen were fully dressed in battle armor, ready to drop to assist Seven.
“Dog Two-oh-Seven, this is Two-oh-Four, we are approaching to assist. Lieutenant Gray, please acknowledge.”
“Dog Two-oh-Four, this is Sub-lieutenant Yeboah. Lieutenant Gray is onboard the smuggler spacecraft. Please approach the dorsal docking point and be advised that there are hostile crew members aboard and two of our people are currently trapped.”
“Trapped? How did that happen? Is Lieutenant Gray available?” The disbelief in Lieutenant Commander Julie Saitova’s voice was clear over the connection, and Yeboah could imagine Saitova rubbing her forehead in disbelief. To be fair, she thought, that was her own feeling about the same thing.
Yeboah had hidden her reservations about Veronica’s plan to distract the crew by sending them on a hunt for the two junior enlisted through their ship’s crawlways and crawlspaces–there had just been too many negatives to the plan, starting with the fact that they were depending on a plan requiring the younger members of the crew to think faster than people reacting to protect their homes. But for lack of a better plan…
Veronica’s voice came over the comm. “I’m available, Commander. We had a plan to flush out the crew that didn’t quite go as expected.”
*
Three spacecraft swept through the Salmani 314 star system. A 50,000 ton mid-haul freighter flew along with two corvettes clinging to its flanks like lampreys.
“Here’s the deal: Give us Captain Ress back and let us go, and we’ll give you these two back unharmed.” Bowman and Leblanc looked battered, but the blood splashed on the floor and bulkheads was mute testimony to the fact that they’d given much better than they got. And while clearly surrounded and pinned down, they weren’t actually being held prisoner.
Veronica rolled her eyes. “Remind me, what again makes me think you even have the slightest leverage here. We have a fleet carrier that will be here in a day, and a two billion dollar smuggling bust. We might have half as many people available to us but we have, oh wait, infinity times more power suits than you do, which means you’re basically screwed, blued and tattooed on that score.”
“We don’t have one thing you do: Anything to lose. If we lose, we’re all in prison for years, we lose our ship, and we lose our home. You got a hell of a lot less skin in this game, Navy. Oh yeah, and we also have some heavy duty hardware down here that we’re gonna be using to crack your little friends out of their shells if we don’t start being heard pretty damn soon. So figure out your priorities, Navy. Hold #3 out.”
Veronica glared at the closed channel. She restrained the urge to drum her fingers on the armrest of her chair.
Ress sneered at her. “Where’s your bravado now, Navy? Didn’t count on honor among thieves, did you?”
Veronica shook her head. “It would have been useful, but we’re going to get all of you anyway.”
“Overconfident, lady. I can see it in your eyes. You don’t know if you can pull this off, and you think you’re going to bluff your way past my people. Don’t forget, you’re the one out of your element here.”
Veronica turned with eyes cold as space and replied, “No, Mister Ress, you’re the one who’s overconfident. Leaving aside the panoply of charges that will have you gumming your pudding by the time you get out of prison, your people just upped the ante from drug charges to assault, false imprisonment, and attempted murder. The only thing that’s insulating them from life sentences at the moment is the fact that my people are still alive.”
“They don’t see it that way, you know. You’re in our home, attacking us.”
Veronica shook her head. “And you were just minding your own business? No. You were running drugs illegally between two star systems.”
“That weren’t illegal on either the originating or receiving systems. But when they pass through space that they’re not being used in, then they’re illegal? Your Alliance is just as hypocritical now as when I was in the Triangle active fleet.”
Veronica let out a sharp bark of laughter, utterly without amusement. “A Triangular complaining about Alliance hypocrisy is only ever trying to cover for something. The Triangle Republic is about as consistent as a sack full of snakes. And only about twice as likely to bite you.”
“I never said that they weren’t. I’ve been retired from the Triangle Star Navy for fifteen years, even if I kept my reserve commission. I think,” he said, “that I’ve found a weak spot. You know that your high and mighty Alliance is just as dirty as anyone and anything else, after all.”
“I do know that,” said Veronica, “but it doesn’t matter. They’re the hypocrites I’ve got, just like the Triangle Republic Navy were the hypocrites you had. And between accepting the hypocrites I’ve got, and letting the hypocrites I have under the gun change my mind about my duty, I know which one I’m choosing, Mister Ress.”
She tied the man to the auxiliary communications chair, lashing his arms to the chair arms. “I’m going to go save my people.”
“Idealism gets people killed, woman.”
“Fine words for an attempted mass murderer, so shut your damn mouth.”
There almost seemed to be two Resses here. One was the captain trying to protect his crew and ship–that man had tattered but present ideals and was almost, in a twisted way, admirable. He was reasonable and even, Veronica admitted, charismatic within certain limits. She might not have minded knowing this man, especially in his past life as a naval officer.
The other was this over-aggressive, probably over-tired would-be monster that the man was trying to persuade himself to be. He could perform atrocities, but only when he wasn’t thinking about it, or didn’t have to directly see the results. She wasn’t sure which was the real Jonah Ress and which the façade was, and that bothered her more than she was willing to let on.
Growling s
oftly, Veronica resisted the urge to punch Ress. Assault in the process of apprehending a criminal might have been understandable, but it wasn’t something she wanted to deal with the aftermath of. There would be gunplay shortly; she had to be ready.
Chapter 14
Kellie drew her personal sidearm, an elegant little vintage piece from before the Star Era began. “This is your first live personal combat, isn’t it?”
Veronica checked the ammunition in her service pistol. “First one where people are gonna try to kill me, yeah.”
“No verbal warnings. Shoot first if you see a weapon that isn’t already being dropped--two to the center of mass, then one to the head if that doesn’t put them down. We’re way too outnumbered to play nice.”
Veronica gritted her teeth. “Part of this is my fault. If I hadn’t been so enamored of my own cleverness I might not have gotten my people in trouble.”
“Enough of that. You knew there was a chance they’d react this way, and so did Bowman and Leblanc for that matter. They’re okay, and we’re going to make sure they stay that way. Preferably without killing off those schmucks in job lots, but if comes down to that…” Kellie shrugged.
Veronica nodded. “Isn’t it the Command Master Chief’s job to listen to the skipper’s bitching when no one else is around?”
“Nope, especially not with our history. Wear your helmet, Skip, and don’t take it off. You remember the near-concussion you got yesterday. Oh, and here,” Kellie handed her a magazine marked with red tape, “These are AP slugs; they’ll go right through the wall of the hold if you’re not careful, but they’ll also let you shoot through pretty much any cover in there. Don’t use ‘em unless you absolutely have to, but they’re a good equalizer if you get pinned down.”
Veronica pocketed the magazine and clicked the microphone switch with her chin. “Leblanc, Bowman. Report.”
“Leblanc here, Skip. Louis took a freak gunshot in a suit joint when the fight started. He’s bleeding pretty badly in here. Most of them backed off when we opened fire, but we’ve got about six guys still looking for a good shot at us and they don’t seem to be running out of ammo anytime soon. Shit, Ma’am, this is not what I signed up for.” Despite her words, Natasha’s voice was steady.
Veronica winced as the sound of a gunshot ripped over Natasha’s suit transducers. “In and spread. We’ve got two available, plus Leblanc, to six of them. That should make us more than equal when we count training and battle armor.”
She toggled the bay door, and Kellie slid through before it had even finished cycling open. Veronica kept low and followed, wincing and instinctively returning fire as a gunshot showered hot splinters of the bay wall over her head. Her unaimed shots missed widely and broke into pieces against the far wall. That was ok. Their purpose was not to hit but to force and keep the head of whoever was shooting at her down.
Skirting the wall, she kept an eye on her people. The bay’s gravity was set at one-sixth gee, which made her feel as if she were overcorrecting every movement. She’d always been able to jump well, though–only a lack of interest had kept her off the Academy women’s basketball team (that and she hadn’t been medically eligible until third year and by that time she would have been an interloper on an already well-established team). In any event, she had fallen in love with Derby by then, and Very Scary was tearing up the track as one of the Solheim Bay Roller Girls’ jammers.
She shook her head, timed her crouch, and leaped up, fingers grabbing a hold in the edge of a container and hoping that the metal edges wouldn’t rip her gloves.
They didn’t. But she bit back a cry anyway, her entire weight coming down on the edge.
She caught her breath and scrambled up the edge. Bowman was in front of her, his green looked sickly-pale to her eyes. “Leblanc, Bowman is in shock. We need to get him to med bay as soon as we can. Alyse, we need volume fire support. Keep these guys heads-down until Leblanc and I can get Bowman out of the line of fire.”
“Acknowledged.” The sharp rip of gunfire filled the hold--still individual shots, but in fast twos and threes.
“Leblanc, you’re going to be doing most of the lifting here.”
“Aye-aye, Ma’am.”
Veronica nodded sharply. She tucked her auto pistol into its holster and helped Natasha guide Louis towards the edge of the shipping container. “His telltales aren’t that good, but at least they seem to be stable. Managed shock is still shock, so we need to get him somewhere safe, pronto.”
The trip down was hazardous. Louis moaned with the drop off the side of the container into Natasha’s arms, and the women both winced.
“Don’t let him shift.”
“Gee, Skip, thanks for the advice. I’ll try to follow it.”
Veronica sighed.
There was another burst of gunfire from Kellie’s general direction, and the wall of the hold made an ominous cracking sound. “Let’s get him out of here, now.”
She grabbed his legs and Natasha maneuvered his arms and head toward the door of the hold. “Bandits secured, Skip,” came Kellie’s voice. “You’re clear.”
Louis moaned, “Lieutenant, I’m not feelin’ so good…” and Veronica winced. Those words were never the prelude to anything that any captain wanted to deal with.
“Just finish whatever you’re doing and help me with Bowman here. The inside of his suit’s a little messy.” There was a lot of blood for what looked like a shallow wound, making Veronica feel more than a little uneasy.
“Lieutenant Gray, this is Sub-lieutenant Yeboah. Avenger sent an FTL message, they are ten hours from the system. We’ve advised them that we have both a prize and a casualty.”
“Acknowledged. Saitova tells me that Sha and Thompson are done zip-tying crew members, so I’m going to have those two help transport Bowman back to our autodoc on Two-oh-Seven.”
Kellie added, “I’m going with them.”
Kellie came and held Bowman’s hand while she worked the med kit free from the arm of her suit. Cutting away body armor stained with blue-green blood, she grimaced at the wound. A frangible bullet tended to make a mess once it was inside the human body, and this one was no exception.
Veronica held her head with her hand in a gesture of frustration. Cutting her suit mike, she whispered, “How am I ever going to explain this hot mess to the CAG?”
She walked back into the cargo bay to check on the crew members imprisoned there. Four sullen, angry faces looked at her from the floor where their wrists and ankles were loosely but securely bound together. There were three bodies sprawled out with disturbingly precise shots through their faceplates. But the greatest surprise was the last man, pinned to the wall of the hold by apparently nothing. Veronica walked over toward him, carefully, with her service sidearm drawn and held low.
“I wouldn’t do that, Skip,” came Kellie’s voice over her headset, and Veronica wondered how exactly she had known what she was doing.
Suddenly she understood. The last crewman was being held to the wall by nothing more than air pressure–Kellie had intentionally holed the hull behind him with her wicked little antique, and the partial depressurization sucked him against the side. He’d be fine as long as he didn’t struggle hard enough to rip his suit. . . but it was difficult to imagine a more stressful form of restraint.
“Better luck next time,” Veronica said. Then she turned on her heel and left the hold, to tend to her wounded.
“Help…” the voice of the crewman echoed in the hold.
*
Benjamin Mattingly stood uncomfortably in Veronica Gray’s common room in prisoner beige, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “My people are good, Ma’am,” he insisted nervously, “We didn’t have anything to do with Jonah’s plans to kill you.”
Veronica looked at him with skepticism. “Mattingly, I’d like to believe you, but there’s facts that I have to look at. One of your men shot and nearly killed my gunner.” Louis Bowman’s wound had been far more serious than his medical t
elltales had told at first glance. He’d been bleeding profusely under the skin, and his blood pressure had gotten dangerously low. Thank heavens Kellie Alyse had a lot more medical training than her official records gave her credit for. “At very least, the core six members of your little crew rebellion, not counting Jonah Ress, are going down on attempted murder of Louis Bowman, plus resisting lawful arrest, false imprisonment, and whatever other charges JAG think it can make stick. The Interstellar Navy takes that sort of thing very seriously, and it’s not the kind of thing that can be settled with a bar brawl.”
Mattingly almost smiled in spite of himself at the low, even assurance of the woman’s voice.
“All eighteen of you are going up on drug running charges. Smuggling is strict-liability. You knew you were moving cargo illegally, even if you didn’t know what it was; and you’re going to have to convince the Admiralty Court that you didn’t.” Mattingly nodded sadly, his amusement gone. “And Ress, well he’s being charged separately, but even with anti-aging he’s going to be a very, very old man by the time he gets out of prison. All in all, Mattingly, I can tell you’re a good man, but you’ve made some very bad choices.”
He looked far older than his actual age as he replied, “And now I have to live with the consequences of them.”
“That you do, and I’m glad you understand. Avenger will be here shortly, and Colonel Baldwin’s marines will take you into custody. I won’t have very much say in what happens after that, Mr. Mattingly, but I do intend to recommend that the prosecutors exercise discretion for anyone who didn’t actively shoot at my crew members.”
“That’s… very generous of you, Ma’am. May I ask why?”
“Because, a lifetime ago, someone else did something similar for me,” She glanced at a photo Mattingly couldn’t see on her desk, “And I believe in paying it forward. I sure didn’t shoot at anyone–took my shots, maybe, but a bar fight and a gun fight aren’t the same thing. Mr. Mattingly, you should get back to your people.”
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