A Hero for the Empire: The Dragon's Bidding, Book 1

by Christina Westcott

  “…then we could potentially lose very little time. Compared to the possibility of not reaching Baldark, or worse, getting stranded there, I’d say it was a fair trade off.”

  Fitz threw up her hands and slid off the table. “I’m not happy about letting Lister take a look at the modifications we’ve made to this ship, but it seems I’ve been overruled. We’re here so I guess we’ll make the best of it.” She stopped and glanced around. “Lizzy, are you sure Jumper has dealt with all those frainy creatures?”

  “That cat has been poking his nose into every vent and maintenance shaft on this ship but hasn’t come up with a live one in the past twenty hours, although I would feel better if he could tell me they were all gone. I know he can hear me over the comm. He’s intelligent enough to at least answer me with a nod or a wave of his paw, but he totally ignores me.”

  Wolf stepped into the hall, scanning both directions. “Haven’t had much experience with cats, have you? I’ll go see if I can get an answer out of him.”

  Fitz started to follow, but the sickbay door slide shut in her face. Lizzy spoke over her internal comm.

  “Commander, do you think it’s wise to become emotionally involved with this mercenary?”

  “Damn it, Lizzy. You’re my ship not my psych-counselor. Stay out of my personal life.” She punched the door release and stormed out, stopping at her room to slip into a pair of sweat pants.

  Emotions didn’t play into this situation; it was recreational sex, pure and simple. She was stressed and coming down from the adrenaline high of fight or flight. She needed to decompress, unwind, but she shouldn’t have snapped at Lizzy. They’d been through too much together. Maybe she needed some good old F3 worse than she thought, and Wolf was just the man to provide it.

  She gathered up the pieces of the discarded vac suit littering the corridor, but dropped them at the scrabbling noise inside the bulkhead behind her. The image of the frainies oozing out of the suit flashed through her mind. A maintenance cover flew open, and Jumper flowed out of the tunnel. He shook, dislodging a cloud of dust and cat hair, then strolled toward the common room.

  “Sorry to startle you, but you don’t have to worry. I got ’em all. I slink around through the ship’s innards because it drives the crotchety old bitch crazy.”

  A cloud of foulness rolled over her as she entered the room. She tried to dial down the sensitivity on her olfactory system, but they were already set at normal. The compartment reeked of days-old garbage mixed with the stench of decomposing flesh.

  Jumper had rolled the helmet from her vac suit to the processor and used it to reach the selection pad. Lacking hands to remove the dishes, he must have pawed them out onto the floor to lick clean. From the number of plates scattered about, Jumper must had eaten quite well during the past few days.

  Fitz tried to breathe through her mouth, but it didn’t help. She pulled her shirt over her lower face and mumbled, “What is that?”

  Wolf squatted on the far side of the room, studying a gray mass on the floor. He turned to her, a sour grimace twisting his features. “I think this is what’s left of the zaafraines.”

  “I have repeatedly attempted to send in my maintenance bots to clean up the mess, but that cat refused to let them near it. My sensors indicate that the room is quite odoriferous by now.”

  Fitz knelt beside Wolf and started coughing. There was no doubt the pile of broken bodies was the source of the rancid odor. The creatures near the bottom were in an advanced state of decay, but the ones on the top were intact enough for her to make out their forms. The ashen colored balls of tentacles were only a few centimeters across and had no discernible sensory organs, only a slight swelling at the tip of each appendage. She reached out a finger to prod it.

  Wolf grabbed her wrist. “Careful, one might still be alive.”

  “Nah, Boss. They’re dead. Dead, dead, dead. All hundred and twenty-seven of ’um.”

  Wolf arched an eyebrow. “One hundred and twenty-seven?”

  “Yeah Boss, I wanted you to see ’um in case some uppity calico accused me of telling wild stories.”

  “Is there a possibility we picked up any on the outside of the hull?” Fitz asked.

  “Doubt it. I started crawling through the conduits and access shafts to get closer to the underside of the hull, but I never heard any of the little buggers chattering. When I realized how much that annoyed the ship, I kept it up.”

  Fitz studied the stinking mass. “It’s hard to imagine a creature capable of living in vacuum.”

  Wolf looked thoughtful. “There has been a new theory circulating in the astrobiological journals. Frainies might be a part of a vast unseen ecosystem that exists in deep space. We know about them because they’re the only species that interact with us. They could be analogous to herds of grazers or schools of sea creatures feeding on the interstellar version of plankton.”

  A scary thought occurred to Fitz. “If that’s the case, there might be an apex predator preying on them.”

  Wolf scratched his chin. “Yes, unsettling thought, isn’t it?”

  She stood and scrubbed her hands on her pants leg. “I’ll never be able to go outside of a ship again without worrying I’ve got a giant, invisible frainy eater hanging over me.”

  “It’s only a theory, FitzWarren.”

  “Hey Boss, do you think maybe you could make up a little engraved tag I could wear on my uniform collar with one twenty-seven on it?”

  Fitz laughed and ruffled his fur. “I’ll see to that personally.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, Boss Lady.”

  “Colonel, we’re approaching the outer beacon,” Lizzy said. “A representative of Lister is requesting we contact them immediately.”

  “Ship, I believe your bots will be allowed to clean up this room now. FitzWarren, if you’d care to join me on the bridge, we’ll see about getting this bucket of bolts repaired so we can get on with the op.”

  The Lister representative on their monitor wore the look of young, ambitious executives that Fitz had seen all over the Human Sector. His hair was perfectly coiffed and his sparkling white teeth were displayed in an ingratiating smile. The silver ship and galaxy logo of Lister decorated the ubiquitous dark business suit. Fitz could tell the instant he realized who he was speaking to because that carefully cultivated composure evaporated.

  “Colonel Youngblood, I…uh, we’re delighted…we thought…”

  Wolf interrupted the sputtering young man. “We’re in a bit of a hurry. I trust our ship’s computer has supplied you with a list of our repair requirements. I’m counting on your company’s usual service, with a minimum of down time and a maximum of discretion.”

  “Of course, sir. I’ve taken the liberty of notifying Chairwoman Lister. She expressed her pleasure at your safe arrival. At the present time, she’s in a board meeting and won’t be able to speak with you until after your arrival on station. She insists you’ll be our guest at the Atrium during your stay.”

  “That would be quite acceptable, and if you would be so kind as to dispatch a yard tractor to bring us in. While we are able to maneuver on our own, I wouldn’t want to attempt docking with only one thruster.”

  “I’ll arrange for a tractor to meet you at the inner beacon. And, again, let me tell you how glad we are to have you back at Lister again, Colonel Youngblood. Lister Control, out.”

  Fitz shrugged. “I guess you are some kind of big shot with them.”

  “They were rather solicitous, weren’t they? I had at least expected an argument, if only to justify the hefty surcharge they’ll no doubt add to the price for a rush job.”

  Fitz switched the screens to external view and got her first look at Hideyoshi Shipyards. A starliner several kilometers long drifted inside a maze of construction scaffolding, the sharp glint of welding lasers sparking along its flanks. A steady stream of traffic
moved in and out of the facility. Service bots, shuttles and tractors sprinted through the traffic with suicidal abandon. Fitz recognized a Pulsar heading toward the hyperlimit, its sleek lines betraying its military heritage. Instead of naval black, the yacht sported a corporate color scheme of eye-searing greens and yellows.

  “This place is immense. It’s four times the size of Rokotski Shipyards back home.”

  “Lister is the largest ship manufacturer in the Human Sector. Beside this one, they have two other yards. One in the Landers Fed and another at Meyerbridge. Your Rokotski yards belonged to them until the Empire annexed it in 863.”

  “I guess they’ve got reason to dislike us.”

  “Lister will deal with Imperial interests, but only on a cash basis. However, if I were you, I wouldn’t wear your uniform while you’re here.”

  Fitz pointed to a large structure to the right of their flight path. “That looks like a defense platform.”

  “It is. They were built to protect Imperial assets back when Lister produced the majority of Fleet’s hulls.”

  An alarm chimed, and Lizzy announced, “We’re at the inner beacon, and I believe that’s our tow.”

  The tractor was little more than two large thrusters studded with grapplers and manipulator arms and a bubble at the front for a crew compartment. The pilot, a gray-haired woman in a vac suit, hailed them.

  “Howdy, Colonel. Heard you needed a ride. Glad to see that cute little tush of yours back here again. I knew we hadn’t seen the last of you.” The pilot studied her board. “What in Malick’s Hell is that ugly piece of shit you got there? It looks like a Loki…six, is it? But what’s that thing you got sticking out of its ass?”

  Fitz squirmed in her seat. Anyone who flew around in a ship as homely as that tractor had no room to call her Lizzy ugly.

  The woman continued to scan her board. “And you got it all shot to shit, too. What the hell, Colonel… Any battle you walk away from is a victory, huh? Cut your thrusters…ah, thruster, and I’ll latch on to you. Y’all relax and I’ll have you back to the barn in time for cocktail hour.”

  Fitz heard a metallic clang as the two ships joined, and then a deep vibration rumbled through Lizzy as the tractor’s thrusters ignited. They started moving, merging into the traffic flow and cutting across the path of a large bulk freighter close enough to make the hair on Fitz’s neck rise. She hoped they got to the dock, period.

  “The Atrium has an excellent restaurant, FitzWarren. Would you care to join me for dinner later?”

  “Why, Colonel, is this a date?”

  “Did I hear someone bring up food?” Jumper appeared at the mention of a restaurant.

  “Jumper, I planned a romantic dinner for two.”

  “It’s about time you two figured that out. I guess I’ll go to Padraic’s and drink with the spacers. At least they’ll be impressed with my 127 kills.”

  “More likely they’ll be out trying to attract some Kaphier cats once they learn that frainies have been spotted back along the space ways.” Wolf stood and stretched. “It’ll be an hour or two before we dock. Perhaps we’ll have time to attend to that unfinished business.” An eyebrow arched as he offered her a hand up.

  She stood, her fingers still twined in his. “I wonder if sharing a sonic shower with a friend is as much fun as a hot water one.”

  “Only one way to find out…”

  An alarm bleated, accompanied by a flashing red light on the instrument panel.

  “Bloody hell, what now, ship?”

  “The emergency back-up life support system has failed.”

  “You said we could limp by on that for a while,” Fitz said.

  “Or it could go out at any time. Which it apparently decided to do.”

  Wolf’s smile became a scowl. “FitzWarren, didn’t you say you’d already retrieved the parts for the LS system?”

  “Yeah, they’re in a maintenance locker.”

  “Grab them and meet me in engineering. Let’s try to knock this job out quickly. There might still be time to share a shower.” He smiled at her before he walked away.

  Fitz palmed off the alarm and stared at the blinking red light, wondering if the system really had failed or was it just Lizzy trying to play chaperone?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fitz still speculated about Lizzy’s motives as she stepped out of her shower—alone. They’d chased the problem throughout the LS system, replacing virtually every component, and never discovered the reason for the warning light. Now, with docking imminent, the problem was moot. Let Lister worry about it. Fitz suspicioned it had already mysteriously disappeared.

  Her shipboard wardrobe contained a single outfit nice enough for the occasion. The pale green formal suit looked more appropriate for a business meeting than a romantic dinner, but it would have to do. She pulled a small black crystal vial from her underwear drawer. Beneath Alien Stars was an expensive perfume, but she’d fallen in love with the exotic scent and indulged in a tiny bottle on her last shore leave. After dabbing a drop behind her ears and on her wrists, she joined Wolf at the inner airlock.

  The tractor had brought them to a pressurized work bay instead of a space dock. Inside there were fewer eyes to notice Lizzy’s unusual modifications. A sour-faced woman in Lister black paced at the foot of the ramp, entering data on a tablet and growling orders into her comm.

  “Yeah, I know. It’s not like we don’t have enough to do on this shift, but now we got some yahoo in with this shot-up abortion of a ship…” She realized they were listening. “You Youngblood?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I would be that yahoo.”

  “You realize the back end of your ship is hot?”

  “That often happens when a thermonuclear device explodes nearby.”

  “We’ll have to wait for the decontamination team. You the owner?”

  Wolf pointed in Fitz’s direction.

  The dock chief consulted her pad. “Says here that hull number LL6-548621 was decommissioned in 866 when it was sold to an outfit called Wraith Holdings, GmbH. It shows up in my bay ten years later with battle damage, most of its SINs removed and a highly illegal modification. Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t assume it’s either a smuggler or a pirate ship?”

  The engineers on the Wraith Project had assured Fitz that all the ship’s identification numbers were removed, but they missed a SIN, one Lister knew right where to locate. While she tried to come up with a plausible explanation, Wolf spoke up.

  “She’s not a smuggler or a pirate, and that’s all you need to know. Just get that starboard thruster operational. And while you’re at it, check the life support system. I’ve been through both the primary and the back-up and I can’t find a bleeding thing wrong, but she keeps giving me a failure warning light.” Wolf turned to leave but stopped. “And one other thing, you might warn your dock workers to be on the lookout for zaafraines.”

  “What?” She yelled into the comm, “Listen up, you gerbats. Z-alert, I repeat, Z-alert. Get your asses out of there.”

  Techs dashed out of the airlock, crawled out of access hatches and leapt off the fuselage, all racing to the far corner of the bay where they collected in an angry knot.

  “You could have told me that sooner, Yahoo.”

  “My Kaphier cat assured me he got them all.”

  “All hundred and twenty-seven,” Jumper announced.

  “Even the ones on the outside?” She snorted. “Now get your asses out of here. We gotta flood this bay with TZ67 gas to make sure we kill all those little bastards.”

  “You might want to let Alliance Space Control know they have a frainy infestation in the Oxylus system they’ll need to eradicate.”

  “I’ll pass the word, but I think they’re a little busy right now. A Warning to Spacers is probably the best they can do. Now get out of my sight.”

 
After they left the bay, the trio caught a shuttle to the main terminal and from there a maglev to the Atrium. The crowds seemed light to Fitz, made up primarily of business people and spacers. A few Kaphier cats accompanied their crews. The felines gave Jumper speculative glances, making her wonder if unheard communications passed between the animals.

  As she exited the car, Fitz stared up at the immense structure. The Atrium was a transparent plexisteel and armorglass cylinder a kilometer high. The outer ring of shops, offices, hotels and eateries enclosed a central shaft where greenery drifted in reduced gravity. Flowers of every shape and hue hung among the vines, and a column of water tumbled and spun in a low gravity dance.

  “I understand there is an excellent jeweler in the mall on the fifth level who does great designs in gold. I think I’ll head up there and check him out.” Jumper trotted toward the lifts.

  “You are going to regret that promise. He’s not going to let you forget it until he has that medallion for his collar.” Wolf smiled and held out his elbow. When she frowned at him, he took her arm, wrapped it around his and led her to the hotel’s entrance.

  They entered a transparent tunnel through the pool beneath the waterfall. A black liveried doorman pulled open the stained glass doors and bowed them through into the lobby. Decorative ponds filled with water plants lined the carpeted entryway, and a young woman awaited them behind the desk, smiling in welcome.

  As soon as Fitz’s foot touched the plush Ancyran rug, chaos erupted. Alarms wailed. Half a dozen black clad security staffers materialized, and Fitz found herself encircled, pistols pointing in her direction.

  “Ah…Wolf?” She slowly eased her hands up and away from her body.

  He pushed past her and stalked up to the woman at the desk, who watched his approach over a palm-sized stunner. Fitz had faced down Wolf’s anger and knew he could be an intimidating sight. She had to give the young woman credit. Her hand shook, but she stood her ground.

  Wolf stopped with the barrel of the tiny weapon touching his jacket. At that distance a stunner blast could be fatal.