Heart of Vengeance (Vigilante Book 1)

by Terry Mixon

“My name is Brad Madrid and I need to talk to someone about one of your people. Mike Randall.”

  The eyeroll was brief and the man stopped it almost at once, but not before Brad had seen it start.

  “Let me see if Commander Branson has time to see you,” the man said with a sigh he didn’t bother to conceal.

  He pressed a button on the com center on his desk, and a gruff voice asked what he wanted. “There’s someone here to see you about Randall, Commander.”

  “Send him in.” Branson didn’t sound in the least surprised.

  The young man rose, led Brad down a short corridor, and gestured toward an open door. Inside the indicated room, a large man with dark red hair cut in a tight buzz was coming around a beat-up desk made of gray metal.

  “You must be Brad Madrid. Ms. Kernsky called to let me know you might be dropping by. I’m William Branson. Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”

  Brad stepped into the man’s office and shook his head. “I’m good, thanks. Your man out front didn’t seem surprised that random people would be stopping by to talk about Mr. Randall.”

  The mercenary commander smiled, showing a hint of teeth as he shook Brad’s hand. “The old saying is that ‘his reputation precedes him.’ That’s not always a good thing. It certainly isn’t when it comes to Mike. Great engineer, terrible subordinate.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “Park it and we’ll talk.”

  Brad sat and waited for the other man to get back behind his desk before continuing. “Ms. Kernsky probably told you that I’ve newly come into a ship and need an engineer. She’s of the opinion Randall would be a good fit once his status with Heimdall’s Raiders is resolved.”

  “I like how you phrased that. It makes a stinking mess sound so straightforward. Believe me, it’s not. My bosses paid a pretty significant bonus to sign Mike on six months ago. I don’t believe they’re going to actually fire him once his suspension is over.”

  That wasn’t what Brad had expected to hear. “I see.”

  “Personally,” Branson continued, “I don’t see him as a good fit with the Raiders, but they want to recoup the investment they made in him. Even if he drives everyone nuts.”

  The man considered Brad for a long moment. “Once Ms. Kernsky contacted me, I called my boss and discussed the matter with him in general terms. He’s willing to release Randall, but it’s going to cost you.”

  Another expense. Wonderful.

  Brad leaned back in his seat a little. “There are plenty of engineers floating around the Outer System. I’m not sure it’s in my best interest to pay extra for one you’ve already admitted has significant negatives.”

  Now that they’d both laid out their initial bargaining positions, the real negotiation could begin. The other man’s eyes told Brad that he knew that too.

  Branson’s smile widened a trifle. “I’ve done a quick bit of research on you, Captain Madrid. You’re just starting out, but Ms. Kernsky had good things to say about you. We’re not talking about money here.

  “The Raiders are willing to release Mike Randall to you in exchange for future subcontract work at a discount rate. Ms. Kernsky will negotiate an appropriate level of effort, so you won’t be committing to something worth far more than one guy. Think of it as a favor between mercenary companies.”

  Brad pondered that for a moment and then nodded. “I can live with that, I think.”

  The other man grinned. “You say that now. Wait until you have to live with Mike for a few months.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Brad watched the Io shipyards grow slowly in Heart’s viewscreen. The third-largest moon of Jupiter seemed to float in the upper right quadrant of the screen, jeweled with the lights of domed cities.

  The seven massive space stations that formed the nodes of the third-largest shipyard in Sol—smaller only than the complexes orbiting Earth and Mars—dominated the screen. Each of them was a cylinder roughly a kilometer and a half long and three hundred meters around.

  Massive connecting tubes—dozens of kilometers long and often hundreds of meters in diameter—connected the huge nodal stations to the hundreds of lesser facilities, which ranged from large-scale nano-smith workshops to zero-g manufacturing facilities.

  All in all, the massive network filled a sphere of space nearly thirty kilometers across with over three hundred manmade objects, and provided homes and workplaces to a quarter of a million human beings.

  Somewhere in the tangle was a collection of about thirty construction berths—probably on one of the nodal stations—under the auspices of Kawa Repair and Construction. The firm was owned and operated by one Hiroshi Kawa, the man whom Jaeger had convinced to hold a berth open for Heart.

  Brad regarded the yards for a moment and then crossed to the communications console. Marshal was running the ship from the tactical console. Without the computer program to balance the drives, he was significantly less chatty than his usual self. Mike Randall was keeping a similar eye on the drives.

  Once Brad had the coms system online, he signaled the shipyards and routed a call to Kawa. A moment later, the screen lit up with the image of an attractive young Asian woman.

  “Kawa Repair and Construction, Reiko Kawa speaking,” she said in a melodious voice. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Captain Brad Madrid on Heart of Vengeance,” Brad said. “I’d like to speak with Hiroshi Kawa, please. Captain Jaeger of Louisiana Rain referred me.”

  The young woman nodded immediately. “Certainly, Captain Madrid. He’s been expecting your call. One moment, please.”

  A standby message flashed onto the screen for a moment, then was replaced by the image of a wizened Asian man. It was hard to tell his height since he was sitting, but he gave Brad the impression of being short.

  Jet-black eyes pierced Brad as Hiroshi Kawa spoke softly. “Captain Madrid. It’s good to finally speak with you. Jaeger told me you wanted a refit. What exactly do you need done?”

  “Do you have an hour? This was a pirate ship until a week ago, and I don’t like the design, Mr. Kawa. That doesn’t even consider the additional damage it suffered a few days ago.”

  “Please, call me Hiroshi. Whatever you need, I guarantee my people can handle it.”

  “I’m sure they can. My chief engineer and I will need to go over what’s necessary—and what I can afford—with you and your people once we dock. Can we arrange an appointment now?”

  “Certainly. How far out are you?”

  “About an hour.”

  “Then I shall see you when you arrive,” the yardmaster instructed crisply.

  Randall met him at the main airlock once they’d docked and he’d shut the drives down. The Heart’s new chief engineer hadn’t bothered changing jumpsuits. Spots of oil covered one sleeve and he still had his tool belt on.

  Brad regarded the man for a long moment and then shrugged. He doubted Randall would listen if he ordered him to go clean up, and they really didn’t have the time, anyway.

  When they left the ship, they found Hiroshi waiting for them just aboard the station. Standing up straight, the wizened old man came to maybe five feet. Maybe. Nonetheless, he exuded energy as he bounced forward to shake their hands.

  “Welcome to my facility.” He gestured for them to proceed him down the corridor. “Come this way.”

  The yardmaster led them down a corridor to a door with a nano-shaped metal sign proclaiming Kawa Repair and Construction above it.

  At the old man’s approach, the door slid smoothly open to reveal a small reception area. Inside, the flooring shifted from plain metal to plush carpeting. The walls were a soft, relaxing beige.

  Hiroshi bustled them both in and waved at the young woman at the desk. “I believe you spoke to my granddaughter, Reiko.”

  Brad inclined his head to her. “Yes, I did. Good afternoon, ma’am.”

  Reiko Kawa smiled at him. “Good afternoon, Captain.” She looked to her grandfather. “The green conference room is ready for y
our meeting.”

  The old man nodded. “Excellent. Thank you, Reiko.” He turned back to Brad and Randall. “This way, gentlemen.”

  A winding, ramped corridor took the trio down a level to a standard door. Hiroshi stepped up to the panel and waved his wrist-comp at it. The door slid open and he gestured them both inside.

  The room was decorated in a dark green with one entire wall showing the view into a small atrium filled with a small forest of tiny pine trees. Brad didn’t know much about Earth flora, but he suspected they were genetically modified. The real thing had to be bigger.

  Hiroshi strode to the end of the table and gestured them to sit. He tapped a control, and a small opening appeared in the table, allowing a platter with drinks and sandwiches to rise out.

  “Help yourself to refreshments,” he said as he leaned back. “Now, tell me what exactly you want done.”

  “We put together a list of the modifications we’d like,” Brad said. “The computer replacement and helm console will be covered by the Arbiter Guild. Mike?”

  Randall pulled a data chip from his pocket and slid it to Hiroshi wordlessly.

  The yardmaster tapped another control and a computer screen projected itself in front of him. He slid the chip into a reader and studied the file in front of him.

  An hour later, Hiroshi had finished going over the list with them in detail. “I can see why you dislike the original design, Captain. Based on what I’m seeing here, the modifications you propose make sense and will greatly enhance the performance of your vessel. They will, however, cost around eight million credits, by my estimation.”

  Brad froze for a moment. Even with the Guild loans, that was significantly more than he could afford. “I fear we will have to make some modifications to my list.”

  “Before you start crossing things off, there is something you should know,” Hiroshi said. “I have been retained by both the Mercenary and Shipper Guilds to handle the sale of the other ships involved in the attack on Louisiana Rain. I’ve only sold one so far, but that does provide you with a somewhat larger credit balance.”

  Brad blinked. “What does selling those ships have to do with me? Doesn’t the money go to Astro Transport?”

  “Didn’t Hans tell you? Four percent of the sale value is marked as going to you for your services in capturing them. That’s solely at the discretion of the ship’s captain, and a separate matter from the ship you now own. Well outside the control of Astro,” the old man noted with a knowing smile.

  “As I said, I’ve only sold one ship, but that puts just over a million additional credits in your pocket. The other is larger and should bring you roughly double that amount, and I’m willing to credit that estimated amount toward the total, as I will sell her well before the refit is complete.”

  With the ten percent the Mercenary Guild was covering outright and the additional twenty percent in guaranteed loans they provided, that still left about two and a half million credits on the tab, by Brad’s estimation.

  With the sale of the pirates’ weapons and the money found on the ship after he’d seized it, he could just about cover the remainder, but it would leave nothing to operate the ship with or hire people.

  “That does make me feel better, but it’s still somewhat out of my range. Mike and I will have to trim a few items from the list, I’m afraid.”

  The old man nodded. “Perhaps. Or I may be able to assist you in another manner. You see, it happens I find myself in a position where you might be able to render me assistance.”

  Brad raised an eyebrow. “You need a mercenary company?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  He pressed a button on the table and the door slid open. A black-clad, nondescript man with short-cropped black hair and mildly Asian features stepped into the conference room.

  “Captain Madrid, this is Saburo Kawa, my youngest son. His employer ran afoul of Mercenary Guild regulations a few months ago. They dissolved his company and left my son at loose ends.

  “Unfortunately, Saburo is the black sheep of the family. He’s been kicked out of more mercenary companies than I once believed existed. He hasn’t found any takers this time around.”

  Brad considered the young man. His company already had one potential loose cannon living inside the captain’s head. He wasn’t sure he needed another one.

  “That’s quite an accomplishment,” he observed. “How did you manage it?”

  “Is it my fault that two thirds of merc officers think a shiny gold bar makes them worth ten times as much as a noncom who actually knows what he’s doing?” the man asked somewhat crossly.

  Brad snorted softly and glanced at Mike Randall. The two of them might get along famously. Or fight like blood enemies.

  “Ms. Kernsky indicated you would be hiring a squad of ground troops,” Hiroshi said. “My son has a good record of accomplishment on the battlefield, if not the home office. As much as it pains me, I will support him one last time.

  “In exchange for hiring him, subject to his record meeting the requirements of the job, I will personally arrange for a small lending syndicate to cover your remaining repair and refit costs. My son understands this is the last chance for him, and he will make every effort to be an asset to you.”

  Admittedly, Brad would still need to repay the money, and Hiroshi would make his expected profit from the work, but this was a big opportunity for Brad.

  Seeing how he was pondering the offer, Saburo added a few chips to the pot. “I can bring a veteran squad with all their basic equipment with me. One that used to fight for a gold-level company.”

  Brad frowned. “How?”

  “The Golden Warriors fell apart when their commanding officer was arrested, and they didn’t do it gracefully,” Saburo said sourly. “My squad stands with me. If you hire me, they’ll come if I ask.”

  “I see.” He stood slowly and stepped over to the man and gazed down into the man’s eyes. Saburo was more heavily built than he was, but he had a good twelve centimeters on the yardmaster’s son.

  “I honestly don’t care if you bring an entire battalion with you,” he said grimly, letting a flicker of his anger into his gaze. “If you can’t follow my orders or fight, I won’t make the deal.”

  Saburo puffed up. “I can fight. Probably better than you can.”

  “Don’t wager on that until you’ve seen the security tapes from Louisiana Rain,” the old man advised his son with a chuckle.

  A corner of Brad’s mouth quirked. It hadn’t occurred to him that the security tapes might be making the rounds. He turned his attention back to Saburo with an effort.

  “And the other?” he asked softly. “Can you follow orders?”

  “I can,” the man replied more quietly. “I’ve been a noncommissioned officer in the Guild for fifteen years. I’ve served in eight different companies with distinction.” He shrugged a little. “As my father pointed out so politely, I’ve been kicked out of six—there’s some overlap, but I’ve done time in ten units. I’ll tell you if you’re making an ass of yourself or stop you if you’re asking the impossible, but I’ll follow orders.”

  Brad stepped back and looked over at Hiroshi. “And you think he and I can work together? You know him better than anyone else ever will.”

  Hiroshi nodded. “You’ll spend half of your time irritated with him, a quarter of your time wanting to kill him, and the rest of your time thanking the Everlit you have him at your back. You’ve been lucky so far. With him and his men, you may actually survive when your luck runs out.”

  “I see.” Brad said softly. For a long moment, he was silent as his memory angrily replayed the many reasons his demon didn’t think he was all that lucky.

  Finally, he met Saburo’s gaze again. “If you’re prepared to follow, I’m prepared to lead.”

  Saburo snorted. “I’m willing to give this my best shot. That’s a more realistic promise.”

  “Good enough. We’ll be sitting in dock for a refit, though. T
hink your people can handle that?”

  The smaller man shrugged and grinned. “We’ll manage. It’ll give me time to review those tapes and see what I can teach you.”

  This was going to be interesting. Brad extended his hand. “Welcome aboard.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Two weeks later, Brad stood in his newly rebuilt computer room, admiring the upgraded systems. The replacement computer wasn’t new, but it was significantly more powerful than what ships of this class usually sported. That was going to prove to be an unpleasant surprise for someone in the near future.

  Hiroshi had given him the option of a brand-new system or a used but more capable one. That had been a no-brainer. More computing power would help them in many ways.

  For one thing, it would make their new weapons more effective by giving them better targeting solutions and faster response times. Once they actually had new weapons. Hiroshi was keeping the details of what he had in mind there close to his vest.

  “You have a surprise visitor,” Marshal said from the corridor.

  Brad looked up from the direct access console and frowned. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  “Obviously. I did say surprise.” The pilot grinned. “And she’s very cute.”

  “That’s the most important takeaway you have for me about an unexpected visitor?” he asked as he rose to his feet. “Details, man.”

  “She’s Fleet,” he said, his face settling back into his normal expression. “Fleet Security, to be precise.”

  “Then I’d best go see what she wants. Did you put her in the galley?”

  “Sure did. Gave her some tea, too.”

  Brad smiled. “What a considerate host you are. Are you planning to hit on her once we’re done?”

  The man looked mildly offended. “Who do you take me for? I already did that. She’s seeing someone.”

  “One of these days, that’s going to get you into a world of hurt.”

  “Thank goodness I know a bunch of mercenaries that can pull me back out.”