The Messenger Box Set: Books 1-6

by J. N. Chaney

  Leira narrowed her eyes at him. “But?”

  “But, unless those ships are all entirely automated, how do we crew them? Custodian, are they entirely automated?”

  “No,” the AI replied. “Each is intended to operate with a crew complement of twenty personnel. However, by slaving the ships together so they operate in a networked fashion, each can be crewed by as few as five.”

  “Yeah, that’s still sixty people minimum that we need.” Dash looked at Leira and Viktor. “You haven’t happened to see sixty people hanging around the Forge, looking for something to do, have you?”

  “There’s Harolyn’s people,” Leira replied.

  Dash ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “That’s twelve, and only one of them is even flight qualified.” He rubbed his face in frustration. “Look, don’t get me wrong—this is fantastic. This Silent Fleet could be the difference between not losing this war and winning it. But where the hell are we going to find enough people who are even remotely qualified to crew it? Especially since, if Ragsdale were here, he’d be warning us about more Golden agents—and rightly so.”

  Kai gave Dash an uncomfortable look. “You are quite right, of course. Which is why I hate to make things even more complicated.”

  “More complicated how?” Dash asked, mentally bracing himself.

  “After you returned to the Forge, but before you got here to the War Room, Custodian and Tybalt apparently reviewed data that Sentinel collected while you were snatching the drone from the Enemy’s station.” The monk shrugged. “Perhaps they should explain.”

  Sentinel spoke up. “As you will recall, Messenger, shortly before retrieving the mining drone, we saw another drone depart the station.”

  “I remember, yes. So what?”

  “That drone’s trajectory will take it through star systems that could include the binary system where the Silent Fleet is located.”

  “Shit. So the Golden know about this fleet.”

  “Not necessarily,” Kai said. “If they did, would they only send a mining drone?”

  “Possibly, but I don’t believe in coincidence. Not with a race like the Golden,” Dash said.

  “Fifty-fifty,” Leira said. Dash just stared at her, and she shrugged. “Hey, it either happens or it doesn’t.”

  “I don’t think that’s how odds work.”

  “Of course not, I was just—just trying to lighten the mood,” Leira said, spreading her hands in apology.

  Dash turned back to the image of the fleet, as though it might offer some sort of answer. This was, he thought, probably the most aggravating thing to have happened so far. It was even more aggravating than the glorified scavenger hunt for power cores for the Archetype and the Forge. He simmered with frustration at finding a powerful fleet and seeing it remain inert, all while the enemy was closing in. Probably.

  “Actually, the Golden likely don’t know about this Silent Fleet,” Viktor said. “And yes, that drone may very well stumble on it. But look at it this way, Dash. Drones have been departing on different trajectories from that station orbiting Brahe for months now. Maybe instead of thinking how unlucky it is that there’s one heading in that direction, we should consider ourselves lucky that they haven’t discovered it before now.”

  “Custodian,” Dash said. “Can you give any estimate on how long it might take that drone to get close enough to the Silent Fleet to discover it? What the absolute minimum time would be, anyway?”

  “There are a number of assumptions involved. For instance, assuming it will translate out of unSpace in every intervening star system to scan for Dark Metal, and that the scanning technology it uses is similar to our own, then the earliest it is likely to be able to detect the Silent Fleet is approximately three weeks.”

  Dash sat back again. Three weeks. By heading directly there from the Forge, at their best possible speed, it would take about three days.

  “Okay, so that gives us about two and a half weeks to come up with a solution,” Dash said. “Ideas?”

  A lingering silence followed.

  Kai finally broke it. “There is one source of possible help that, so far, we’ve been keeping at arm’s length.”

  Dash nodded. “Harolyn.”

  “Her people may not be suited for crewing these vessels, but I’m assuming that mining operations use ships, right? Is so, then they can fly.”

  Dash stood. “Kai, you’re right, and it’s time to pull the trigger. Yeah, they almost certainly would—which means it’s time to trust them. We bring them into the fold, starting now.”

  “You don’t really trust us, do you, Dash?” Harolyn said.

  They’d met with the miner and her people in a lounge Custodian had given them access to. It didn’t really differ much from the War Room, partially due to Ragsdale’s natural, healthy state of mid-level paranoia. Dash sat across from Harolyn, with Leira and Viktor to one side and Ragsdale to the other. He didn’t like the way it put them, and the miners, in opposition to each other, like adversaries facing off. Her question only underscored the problem.

  “Harolyn, look—” he began.

  But she cut him off. “It’s okay. I think we all get it.” She looked and gestured around at her people. Their responses were all over the map, but Harolyn gave them all a hard stare. She was getting her point across without making a sound. “You don’t know us from a hole in the ground—miner’s joke, by the way—and worry we might not be everything we seem.”

  “We could even say the same about you,” Preston added.

  “That would be a fair point,” Leira replied. “Except for, you know, the giant space station and everything.”

  “Oh, it’s not that we don’t believe in all the alien super-tech,” Preston said. “Because, well”—he gestured around— “it’s more that since there seem to be at least two sides to this apparent war, you could be on either one of them.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Ragsdale said. “We want to see all life in the galactic arm exterminated, but the key to doing that is a dozen mining techs we picked up on some random planet—”

  “Okay,” Preston cut in, bristling. “There’s no need to—”

  “Time out,” Dash said, raising his hands. “This kind of division serves no one—except the Golden. Period. We don’t have the time and I don’t have the inclination to engage in a civil war of any size. Not now, not ever.”

  “Dash is right,” Harolyn said. “It’s pretty obvious there’s something going on here that’s…well, big barely even begins to describe it. I mean, giant space station, right?” She smiled at Leira, but it quickly faded as she turned back to Dash. “But it is true that neither of us are one hundred percent sure about the other. We get why you’ve obviously locked us out of all the important parts of this station. I’d have done the same if I were you.”

  Dash gave her a grateful nod. That someone used to working in the rough-and-tumble of the fringe worlds had a diplomatic touch wasn’t surprising. He could tell there was hard alloy under the soft words, though.

  I really do like this woman, he thought.

  “But, we are going to have to figure out a way to start trusting one another, Dash,” Harolyn said. “Otherwise, me and my gang here might as well pack up and head back out to look for ore.”

  “You’re right. And we might have a way of doing just that,” Dash replied.

  Harolyn nodded. “We’re all ears.”

  “What we really need is more ships,” Dash said. “We do have yours now, the Rockhound, which is handy.”

  Harolyn scowled. “She’s a refurbished class C freighter with no armor to speak of and a single particle cannon that’s offline half the time. If you’re counting on her to be much help, then you guys must be more desperate than you look.”

  Dash grinned. “No, no—she won’t be of any help fighting, we know that. That’s why I said she’d be handy. She can do cargo runs, move people around, that sort of thing.”

  “In fact, we have a supply of a material
called Dark Metal sitting on a planet called Gulch,” Viktor added. “That’s where Ragsdale here is from. We’ve only been able to retrieve a small amount of it, because we can’t carry much with just the Slipwing.”

  “And the Archetype has more important uses than lugging cargo,” Leira said.

  “Anyway, we actually do have some ships available—a fleet of Unseen ships parked in orbit around a binary star,” Dash said. “Trouble is, we don’t have anyone to crew them.”

  Harolyn looked doubtful. “I’m not sure we can help much with that. Aside from Kenton over there who flies the Rockhound, none of us know much about crewing ships, much less flying them.”

  “I served aboard a freighter,” one of the drill techs said. “Had to give it up because I tend to get space-sick, though.”

  “That’s fine,” Dash said. “We’re not suggesting you guys would be crewing these ships. In fact, using the Rockhound to bring back Dark Metal from Gulch isn’t a bad idea.” He glanced from Harolyn to Ragsdale. “It would be a good use of your crew here, since it’s basically a mining operation, digging stuff out of a crashed ship.”

  Ragsdale nodded. “It would, yeah.”

  Dash turned back to Harolyn. “What we’re hoping is that you’ve got some contacts, people you know that could make good crews. Leira and I were both couriers, but we’ve been out of the business for a while now, saving the universe.”

  “And we were both more the loner types, anyway,” Leira said.

  “I’m hoping that you might know more people, Harolyn,” Dash said. “Ideally, people used to space, who already work as ships’ crews.”

  “Even better if they know how to fight,” Ragsdale added.

  Harolyn just stared.

  Dash started to deflate. Harolyn’s blank expression said it all. Well, at least they could still have her excavate and retrieve Dark Metal from the crashed Golden ship on Gulch.

  Harolyn leaned back in her chair and started to laugh.

  Dash gave her a puzzled look. “Did I say something funny?”

  “Oh, no,” she said, still chuckling. “It’s not that. It’s more that you asked exactly the right question.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Harolyn sat forward again, her eyes bright. “What I mean is that I know exactly the people you need to talk to. They’d be almost perfect for what you need.”

  Dash scowled at the display Harolyn had called up—data retrieved from the Rockhound and now shown by Custodian in the War Room. He’d decided that they had to make that first gesture of trust, and inviting Harolyn into their planning sanctum seemed a good start.

  But this—

  He looked at Harolyn. “Seriously? Pirates?”

  “They’re skilled spaceship crews because, well, they kind of have to be. Good in a fight for the same reason.”

  “Sure, but—pirates? Really?”

  “Hey,” Harolyn said. “I’m not going to pretend they’ll be easy or cheap to recruit. But the Gentle Friends are some of the best damned pilots and crews I’ve ever worked with.”

  Leira gave a derisive sniff. “The Gentle Friends?”

  Harolyn leaned closer to her. “Yeah, about that,” she said in a stage-whisper. “They’re not really very gentle, or all that friendly.”

  “Probably because they’re freakin’ pirates,” Dash said. His own experience with pirates consisted of worrying about them and, on a few occasions, avoiding them. Of all the people Harolyn would count among her contacts—Dash shook it off. He needed warm bodies more than an internal moral debate.

  “How did you even get hooked up with these so-called Gentle Friends?” Viktor asked.

  “Pirating is just something they do,” Harolyn replied. “They’ll happily take credits to fly legitimate jobs, too. And, I have to admit, of all the ships I’ve ever contracted or chartered, theirs are probably the most reliable and best run.”

  “I guess when you’re a pirate you kind of have to be good at what you do,” Leira said.

  Dash narrowed his eyes at the display. Pirates. His instinct was to pass and try to find someone else to recruit. Someone, at least, that hadn’t been pirates, but he was well past the luxury of choosing willing partners for a galactic war.

  But the more he thought about it, the more the idea actually appealed to him. He’d considered trying to go the military route, but getting them involved, especially so early on in the war, could complicate things a lot. For one, he couldn’t imagine military types being all that keen on following a down-and-out ex-courier, even if he was the Messenger. Moreover, the military would make everything—well, military, which meant rigid discipline and inflexible protocols. He’d never been one for discipline or protocols of any type. Sure, the war might very well eventually involve military forces, but for now—

  “Pirates,” he said, rubbing his chin and staring at the display.

  “Dash,” Ragsdale said. “You’re not seriously considering this, are you?”

  “Actually, I am.” Dash raised a hand as Ragsdale’s expression soured. “I know, there are a lot of good reasons to not go to a bunch of pirates for help. But, if we want crews for the Silent Fleet that are skilled, aggressive, and used to being pretty independent, then I’m giving them the keys to the castle. I know who they are. I know what they were, and trust me when I say they’ll leave that life behind, because their only other option will make me their enemy. They don’t want that.”

  Ragsdale grabbed Dash’s elbow and pulled him to one side. “Are you seriously planning to put the sort of weaponry and other tech we’re likely to find on an Unseen ship into the hands of pirates?”

  “What’s the bigger problem here?” Dash asked. “Some pirates getting their hands on some super-weapons, or the destruction of all life in the galactic arm?”

  “Well, yeah, I see…I mean, sure, when you…” Ragsdale stopped and let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, I get your point. But it’s a terrible risk, Dash.”

  Dash shrugged. “Ever since I was promoted to Messenger, terrible risks seem to be all I take, and to be candid—I’m kind of addicted to the rush. If it’s a simple task, I’d rather take a nap.”

  Ragsdale sighed again then shrugged. “Fine. This is going to be a security nightmare, though.”

  “You don’t say.”

  They returned to the group. “So these Gentle Friends hang out in this system—um, Rayet-Carinae?” Dash asked, gesturing at the display.

  Harolyn nodded, but Ragsdale just shook his head. “According to this, Rayet-Carinae is a heavily developed system.”

  “Where else would pirates hang out?” Leira asked. “I mean, they need something to pirate, right?”

  “Sure, but with as much development and traffic as this shows, how are they able to keep operating? How are there not all kinds of security forces clamping down on them?”

  Dash looked at Harolyn, who shrugged. “Hey, they’re good at what they do. Doesn’t hurt that there’s a massive asteroid belt in the system that makes it almost impossible to find anyone who doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Well, folks,” Dash said, turning to the others. “Looks like the next port of call on our happy little cruise is Rayet-Carinae.”

  Leira grinned. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Dash.”

  “Hey, don’t say I never take you anywhere.”

  9

  Dash put his hands on his hips and said, “Okay, that’s damned impressive.”

  The Swift, finally completed, stood in a docking bay alone, framed against the starfield beyond the force-field. It generally resembled the Archetype but was a little smaller. The mech made up for it by being slender and sleek, making it look as though it was moving fast even when standing still. It still packed a hefty punch, too, being armed with a dark-lance, missiles, and a clever weapon called a nova gun.

  Like the point-defense systems that had engaged the Archetype from the station orbiting Brahe, the nova gun translated its shots, powerful blasts of raw plasma,
through unSpace—or, more accurately, the Dark Between, although the actual distinction was a little lost on everyone but Sentinel and Custodian. It could bypass shields with its attacks, letting it punch well above its weight. But it lacked the Archetype’s distortion cannon, and also the big force-sword. Dash understood omission; close-in combat wasn’t what the new mech was designed for.

  “I have to admit, I'm more than a little nervous,” Leira said. “I mean, I’ve done a lot of flying in simulations, but this is…” She looked at Dash and shrugged. “It’s real. It’s actual, Unseen tech, and I’m supposed to climb aboard and fly it.”

  “Have to admit that hovering on the brink of a really nasty, lonely death gave me a lot of incentive to get past all the awe and wonder about the Archetype when I first found it,” Dash said.

  Viktor grinned at Leira. “Now, imagine if someone had told you six months ago that you’d be standing here now.”

  Leira glanced at him, shook her head, and said, “Exactly.”

  “Well, if you want to get yourself strapped in, I’ll go fire up the Archetype and help you out on your maiden voyage,” Dash said.

  “It’s also a mission,” Leira replied. “You sure we can’t spend a day or two here letting me get used to flying this thing?”

  “When it comes to these mechs, it seems like on-the-job training is the only sort you get.” Dash turned serious and added, “We really do need to get those ships of the Silent Fleet crewed up, and we don’t have much time to do it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” She sighed and started toward the mech. “You ready for this, Tybalt?”

  The Swift’s AI responded in its particular fussy way. “I am indeed, and I’m only waiting on you.”

  Leira gave Dash a backward look, one tight with uneasy anticipation. He wished he could think of something to say that would help, but the only things that came to him would probably come across as trite, even silly. So he just waved then turned and headed for the Archetype, Viktor at his side.

  They’d decided to keep the Archetype and the Swift in separate docking bays, in different parts of the Forge; that way, if one bay was somehow compromised or blocked, they wouldn’t lose the use of both mechs. Fortunately, Dash and Viktor were able to make most of the trip via a fast elevator. They arrived in the Archetype’s bay to find Amy supervising last-minute preparations for the Slipwing. She’d pilot it, with Viktor, Conover, Kai, and Harolyn as passengers. They’d also decided to bring along a few of her crew, including the erstwhile pilot of the Rockhound. Harolyn had suggested that, if they were going to make a pitch to the Gentle Friends for an alliance, they might as well try to get a ship that she and her crew could use as well—something more capable than the Rockhound in a fight.