by Terry Mixon
Mader was silently standing there, studying the mercenary company’s logo on the wall behind Brad’s desk. It showed a massively built Viking warrior with the hilts of two swords visible over his shoulders. The man’s expression was cold, hard, and promised significant pain to the people who had displeased him.
Of course, the image had hidden meaning for Brad. To the rest of the system, it stood for the Vikings mercenary company. To him, the image represented Vidar, the silent god. The Norse god of vengeance.
They called him the silent god because he didn’t speak of vengeance. He just went about making it happen.
That suited Brad perfectly.
Brad pushed the thought aside and focused on Mader. The man wore what seemed like a perfectly genuine smile, which somehow managed to put Brad’s teeth on edge.
“Have a seat, Mr. Mader. What can the Vikings do for you?”
The man sat in the indicated chair somewhat primly, as if he were afraid of getting his trousers dirty. “The governor wishes to speak with you, Mr. Madrid. With you personally.”
Brad repressed the urge to correct the man in his use of titles. It would only lengthen a meeting he could already tell was going to strain his patience.
“I’m at the governor’s disposal, of course.” Especially since the only reason Brad could see for a meeting probably led to employment for the Vikings. “When and where?”
“The governor is currently on Node Six of the Io Yards. When she finishes her conference there, she’ll return to Io via shuttle. On the way, they’ll discreetly detour here. I’ve already arranged for Mr. Kawa to provide a conference room.”
“I see. How does that translate to times and places?”
The man’s smile twitched at Brad’s dry tone. “This evening at eighteen hundred standard in Mr. Kawa’s red conference room. Come alone and unarmed.”
That made Brad frown. “I’d prefer not to go anywhere unarmed. It’s not that I distrust the governor. I don’t trust anyone quite that much.”
“Nonetheless, I must insist,” Mader replied sternly.
Brad was insulted enough to consider rejecting the meeting for a moment, but allowed the prospect of gainful employment to sway him. He might end up regretting the weakness, but he’d play along. This time.
“Very well. If something makes me regret this, I’ll take my displeasure out of your hide,” he warned, letting his irritation turn his voice ice-cold.
“I believe that concludes our business, Mr. Madrid,” Mader said flatly as he rose to his feet. “Good day.”
“Captain Madrid,” Brad corrected icily. “It’s considered polite to use a ship commander’s title rather than Mister.”
“I see. Thank you for the information.”
It amused Brad to note the man still couldn’t bring himself to use the correct title, a spark of amusement that let him swallow his anger. He didn’t need to work with Jack Mader. He could tolerate the man for a little while.
As soon as the hatch opened, Jason was there to escort him back off Heart.
Brad leaned back in his chair and pondered why the Governor of Io needed a discreet mercenary company. She had quite a bit of military force already under her command and could access any number of gold or platinum level mercenaries. This should be interesting.
Reiko greeted Brad as soon as he came into the office. “Good evening, Captain Madrid.”
“Evening, Reiko,” he replied with a smile for the young woman. “Am I early?”
“Right on time. The governor is waiting in the red conference room. Her aide is with her,” she added, her face twisting very slightly.
Brad stopped and considered the young woman more closely. Her judgement had seemed sound to him so far. He wanted to know if her opinion matched his.
“What’s wrong with Mader?”
She shrugged with a hint of embarrassment. “He smiles too much, even when he doesn’t mean it.”
“That matches my impression,” he said with a chuckle. There was something inherently false about Mader, beyond just a politician’s fake smile.
Reiko rewarded him with a small smile. “You can go right in.”
It took him less than a minute to reach the red conference room, the one farthest from the entrance. He activated the door chime and Mader’s voice spoke over the intercom. “Come in, Mr. Madrid.”
Brad snorted but did as he was instructed. The red conference room was actually the smallest of Kawa’s conference rooms, but it was amply spacious for the pair who occupied it. And, of course, red dominated the walls.
The tall blonde woman at the head of the table was Governor Johnson. He’d read up on her in preparation for the meeting. Mader stood at her right side.
Mader drew a sensor wand and crossed the room to scan him. A moment later, he nodded to the governor. “He’s clear.”
Brad shook his head and snorted. “Governor, you need a new sensor system.”
He reached up to his throat and removed to the monofilament garrote Saburo had lent him. It had an outer sheath to prevent him from accidentally cutting his own throat, but that would easily give way if he’d actually needed to use the weapon.
It had a small pendant hanging from it as well, completing its disguise as a necklace. He’d chosen a Norse rune for the occasion. The one that meant vengeance, of course.
“I’ll want that back,” he told the outraged aide as he handed it over.
Johnson smiled and shook her head. “And what other weapons are you carrying that you haven’t told us about, Captain Madrid?”
“None, though I do have a transmitter. If there’s trouble, my men are right outside the office and will come running.”
“Perfectly acceptable. Have a seat, Captain Madrid. Wait outside please, Jack.”
The man’s already-stiff smile became even more so, but he bowed his way out of the room.
Johnson watched him leave and then turned back to Brad. “I’m told your refit should be finished in the next two days.”
Brad nodded, taking a seat across from her. “That’s what Mr. Kawa says, and I have no reason to doubt him.”
The governor nodded.
“In three days, the passenger liner Tempest will be leaving Io bound for Mars,” she told him. “I want your ship to shadow her.”
That was an unusual request. “Why?”
“My son is heading to New Boston to study for a master’s degree,” Johnson explained. “I’m concerned with the increased pirate activity in our area and want to be certain no one takes him hostage to get a handle on me.”
“You mean the Cadre,” Brad said tonelessly. He couldn’t appear too eager.
“Among others, but yes,” she said. “However, my son refuses to travel aboard a Commonwealth or militia warship. And while I could arrange for one to accompany the liner, it would be abusive of my authority to do so. Which brings us to you and your ship.”
“You want me to escort Tempest,” he concluded.
“Yes. Tempest’s captain will know, but I’d rather you not reveal your presence unless there’s an attack.”
“How much fanfare does this trip have?”
“I put out a lot of disinformation about my son’s itinerary,” the governor said with a sigh, “so I’m hoping no one will expect him to be on this particular ship. Even he thinks he’ll be leaving in two weeks. If I’m wrong and there is combat, I’ll pay the Guild-mandated bonuses and expenses, of course, but I’d rather this be a quiet shakedown cruise for you.”
Considering how deeply he suspected the Cadre was plugged into the areas they prowled, Brad suspected that was a distinct possibility.
“Why me?”
“I spoke with Ms. Kernsky a few days ago, and she thought you’d be the perfect fit for this mission. I trust her judgement.”
“Unless someone throws a heavy warship at us, we can handle the mission,” he said after a moment. “How much are you offering?”
The governor slid a data pad across the table.
He picked it up, glanced at the screen, and his eyebrows rose. The offer was nearly forty percent above the going rate for a ship from a silver company, much less a bronze.
Brad offered his hand across the table. “It’s going to be a pleasure working for you, Governor.”
He glanced around Heart’s cramped wardroom. Given the nature of the mercenary company, nearly half of its personnel qualified as officers of one stripe or another. Counting Brad, six of them were in this compartment.
At the opposite end of the table, Marshal lounged in the executive officer’s traditional seat. While he was officially only the pilot, everyone knew he was the company’s effective second-in-command.
To Brad’s left, Saburo sat cross-legged, regarding the rest of them calmly and looking as enigmatic as ever. While the Japanese trooper only considered himself the senior noncom, Brad thought of him as the ground combat officer.
Beyond Saburo, Randall had apparently discovered the arms on the chairs swung down, allowing the bulky engineer to avoid having to cram himself into the chair. One less thing to complain about, though Brad knew he’d find something else quickly enough.
Jason and Shelly sat across from them. Both seemed mostly focused, but Brad was almost certain the two were holding hands under the table. Ah, young love.
The irony that the two officers were both older than him did not escape him.
He laid his hands on the table and cleared his throat. “As I’m sure you’ve already guessed, we have a job. Before I give you the details, I want to touch base with everyone on our current status. Randall, how’s the refit going?”
The engineer shrugged. “It’s effectively done. We’ll seal the last of the holes in the armor by nine hundred hours tomorrow. We’ll be spaceworthy by noon.”
“Excellent! Jason, how’s the armament?”
“With the refit complete, we have six twelve-barrel Gatling drivers and four torpedo tubes. We have something around half a million driver rounds, so I don’t think we need to worry about running out of ammo anytime soon. With our new sensors, we could shoot a cockroach off somebody’s hull at a thousand klicks.”
“And the torpedoes?”
“I finished loading the magazines right before the meeting started. We have a hundred on tap.”
“Also excellent. Shelly?”
She smiled widely. “Coms are up and running. Most of my systems are the original installations anyway, just new software. I’m good.”
Saburo didn’t wait for Brad to look at him. “The troops are ready to go. We’ve got guns, blades, ammo, and armor. Give us a target and we will slice and dice it.”
Brad grinned. He appreciated that enthusiasm—and understood it far more than he’d once have expected.
“For this mission, we’re staying in space. We may need your squad for boarding, so we won’t be leaving you behind, but you should be able to ride this one out in comfort.”
“Ha!” the noncom snorted. “You’ve jinxed us now, for sure.”
“Marshal?”
“The new helm console is in and checks out,” the pilot said laconically. “We won’t be completely sure about the new drives until we take the ship out for a spin, but the tests all look good. I should be ready to rock and roll whenever the rest of the ship is done.”
“Great news,” Brad said with more than a hint of satisfaction. “We’ll take Heart out for a good test run tomorrow afternoon. That’ll set us up for our mission, actually.
“It’s a basic escort job with a few twists. First, our package is the Governor of Io’s son and is riding aboard a civilian liner, Tempest. We’re going to shadow the liner in case someone wants to pay them an unfriendly visit.”
He swept his eyes around the table, making sure they were all with him so far.
“The second twist is that the governor doesn’t want anyone to know we’re there unless we have to play defense. Only the liner’s captain is going to know. If one of his sensor officers spots us, he’ll bring them into the plan.
“Otherwise, he’ll keep quiet. I’d like to make this a test of our capability for sneaking up on someone, so we play everything close.”
“Are we expecting an attack, or is this just a precaution?” Shelly asked.
“The governor doesn’t expect an attack, but I think the Cadre is plugged into events more deeply than she imagines. They’d love to have the governor’s son in their possession.”
Saburo had been nodding the entire time. He didn’t say anything, but Brad knew the man shared his concerns.
“What kind of opposition might we expect if the Cadre shows up?” Jason asked.
“Tempest is armed but only has a single quartet of quad barrels. Most likely, we’ll only be looking at a frigate or regular corvette. I’m perfectly confident of our ability to take them.”
Jason snorted. “Even another heavy corvette wouldn’t be a match for us now. We could go toe to toe with a pirate destroyer and I’d still put my money on us.”
“That’s my take as well,” Brad agreed. “All right, folks, I think that covers the general situation. Tempest leaves day after tomorrow at ten hundred hours. We’ll have two shifts to do a shakedown test.
“Focus on main systems and flag anything that needs immediate attention. We’ll work up the secondary systems on the trip to Mars.”
He grinned at them. “The Vikings are now open for business.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brad watched Saburo carefully as the noncom settled into a combat stance, his cat’s claws spread. He was using practice gloves, of course. It wouldn’t do to have the mono-filament blades extending from the fingers of a real one to lop off something Brad cared about.
The men regarded one another for several long seconds before Saburo charged. For a moment, the slashing claws seemed to be coming from every direction, and it was all Brad could do to interpose his practice blade against each strike.
Then Saburo got an inch too close and Brad hooked his ankle around the man’s leg, sending him tumbling backward. He lunged in to finish the fight, but Saburo blocked the blade with crossed claws. That wasn’t going to stop him for long.
The mercenary locked his claws around Brad’s weapon and did something just a bit too quickly for Brad to see. The blade tore out of Brad’s hand, went spinning across the room, and bounced off the locker mounted to the gym bulkhead.
Saburo took advantage of Brad’s momentary shock to lunge at him.
Brad managed to twist clear of the first lunging claw, grabbed the noncom’s wrist, and threw the other man over his shoulder.
The smaller man rolled and surged to his feet, but one of the cat’s claws was gone, lost in the fall. He inclined his head in salute and charged again.
This time, Brad was ready. He snapped his foot out in a low kick, which ran into an iron-hard block from the man’s non-clawed arm. Brad used the energy from the block to spin around and slam his fist into the smaller man’s stomach.
Saburo hesitated, his lungs momentarily stunned into inaction. As Brad came around to finish the job, the mercenary came back to life, caught his arm, and threw him to the floor. Half a moment later, the cat’s claws slashed down against Brad’s throat.
The shock set him to twitching and Brad raised a hand in surrender. “All right, all right. I give up!”
“Give up, my ass. I just ripped your throat out.”
Getting beat sent a ripple of sullen anger through him, but Brad suppressed it. Saburo was an experienced mercenary. That kind of thing mattered. Brad would just have to keep learning so eventually he came out on top.
Saburo stripped the remaining practice glove from his hand and helped Brad up. “Unconventional weapons, my captain, confuse the poor sucker who ends up fighting you.”
“No shit.”
“Ready for another round?” Saburo asked. “I have other tricks in my bag.”
Brad snorted. “I’ll just bet you do. I’d prefer to let some of the bruises heal before we go at it again.�
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“True,” Saburo acknowledged, pressing one hand to where Brad had slammed a fist into his stomach. “To be honest, I didn’t expect you to fight so well once I’d disarmed you.”
“My first sensei believed the best foundation for learning to fight with a weapon was learning to fight without one. It obviously wasn’t enough.” The last slipped out in spite of his determination to keep a lid on his demon.
The intercom chimed, silencing the mercenary’s response. “Captain, this is Shelly.”
Brad crossed to the bulkhead and pressed the button that answered the call, glad for the reprieve. “Brad here.”
“We’ve got a thermal, sir. Jason is still narrowing the size down and establishing the exact vector, but it’s probably on an intercept course for Tempest.”
Heart had been silently shadowing the liner for three days now. Brad was actually surprised they’d struck so quickly. He’d expected them to hit closer to Mars. Someone had been right there, waiting for the governor’s son to leave Io.
“Good job, you two. I’ll be up in five minutes.”
“Gotcha. Bridge out.”
He turned to Saburo. “I’ll have to take a rain check on that rematch.”
The noncom inclined his head and grinned. “Rest up, Captain. I’ll be ready for your tricks next time.”
Brad changed back into his uniform quickly. The midnight-blue jacket with the faint gold piping set the tone for the ship suit of the same shade he wore under it. It looked damned sharp.
The left shoulder held the Viking patch of his mercenary company, and the right had a patch of a fist holding a beating heart. The latter represented Heart of Vengeance. If he ever got a second ship, the people serving there would have a different emblem.
His lapels held the silver triangle of stars that marked a Guild ship’s captain and his collar bore the short gold chain of a company commander. And, of course, he was armed with his usual weapons. They were part of everyone’s standard uniform.
He’d insisted Saburo and Marshal start training everyone. They might be crewing a ship rather than being dedicated fighters, but he wasn’t going to lose anyone else because they couldn’t use a blade, guns, and their bodies as weapons in a pinch.