by Terry Mixon
He wouldn’t have risked his ship or crew trying to capture people with an automatic death sentence over their heads anyway. Desperate people did desperate things.
Brad flicked back to the main body of his report and began scanning it again. Just as he reached the section covering the fight, his intercom beeped.
He saved the report and responded. “Madrid.”
“Captain, I’ve got a transmission from a Mr. Ambrose Weaver,” Shelly said. “He wishes to speak with you.”
“Put him through.” Brad hadn’t been expecting anyone to contact him.
“Patching him through now,” she replied, then the intercom shut off with a quiet click.
Brad turned back to his console in time to see the image of a graying man dressed in a neat suit appear on the screen.
“Captain Madrid.”
“Mr. Weaver. Might I ask the purpose of your call?”
“Of course,” the man replied genially. “I’m Governor Johnson’s agent on Mars. I’m calling to deal with the finalities of your contract.”
Brad inclined his head. “I see. Unfortunately, I haven’t completed all the paperwork. It’ll take me another day or so to be completely satisfied with the report.”
“Paperwork is not necessary for me to judge that the contract has been satisfied, Captain,” Weaver said with a flash of white teeth. “I’ve spoken to young Mr. Johnson. He’s obviously here, safe and sound.
“I’m releasing your base payment now. The bonuses and combat costs will need to wait for Governor Johnson’s authorization, but I’ve already messaged her. If you’d provide me a list of what you expended and the cost of your repairs, I’ll make certain to get that taken care of as soon as she gets back to me.”
“Thank you,” Brad replied sincerely. Prompt payment by one’s employers was always nice. The man not haggling over the four torpedoes and replacing the reactive armor strips was even better.
“Lastly,” Weaver said, “Mr. Johnson has authorized me to disburse a ten percent bonus out of his personal funds.”
Brad’s eyebrows rose. Colin Johnson had hardly impressed him as someone that generous. Then he caught the hint of an expression on Weaver’s face. It probably hadn’t been the kid’s idea.
“I see. Pass my thanks on to Mr. Johnson.”
“Oh, I most definitely will.”
The man leaned forward. “Governor Johnson doesn’t forget her debts, Captain. Your service has been exemplary, and her assessment of you to the Guild will be glowing. Speaking for Governor Johnson’s extended family and close companions, if there is any aid that we can render you in the future, we shall be pleased to do so.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I fear I have other business to deal with. I wish you a good day, Captain Madrid. May the Everlit guide your path.”
“And may they keep the Dark from yours,” Brad replied in the other half of the parting formula for the worshippers of the Church of Light.
The man’s image flicked off his screen and Brad leaned back. Not too shabby for a first run. Not too shabby at all.
That great feeling evaporated as soon as MOSO security called him to come to their lockup in the middle of the night.
With a sense of resignation, Brad dressed and made his way off the ship. It was the middle of the local night, but the crowds were only a bit more subdued than when he’d last boarded the station.
The main security station was bigger than he’d expected. It was crowded inside, too. He wondered why they needed so many security officers. It seemed as if Mars would be a little more peaceful than the Outer System.
The desk sergeant, a harried man with a fringe of dirty brown hair, looked up when Brad stopped in front of the counter. “What can I do for you?” His tone indicated he really didn’t care.
“I’m Brad Madrid, Captain of Heart of Vengeance,” he replied with a firm grip on his annoyance. “I got a call that one of my people was here.”
The man grunted and tapped on his console. “Yeah. Drunk and disorderly and assaulting a Fleet officer. Detective Huddleston wants to talk with you about him.”
Brad sighed. He’d known this was coming for a while, but he’d hoped Marshal would pick a less sensitive place than Mars. And why the hell had he assaulted a Fleet officer? Probably over a woman.
“Then I’d best speak with the detective,” he said with a headshake.
“You’ll need to secure your weapons. The lockup is off to the right. Have a seat and she’ll be out to get you shortly.”
He went into the indicated room and found a series of lockers. They looked secure and he knew he’d never be able to argue them into letting him retain his weapons.
Once he’d locked them up, he pocketed the key and found a seat.
The waiting room had a selection of interesting people waiting for their turns with someone. He made a game out of trying to guess what their friends or family had done to get arrested. It helped distract him a little from the lump of anger sitting in his gut like a stone.
He hadn’t used to be that way. Ever since the attack on Mandrake’s Heart, he’d had a sense of rage that he could only barely control at times. While he had every right to feel that way, he needed to make his rage serve him, not the other way around.
The trick was keeping the demon on a tight leash. If it got loose at the wrong time, things could go very badly for him and his friends.
Ten minutes later, while he was still trying to figure out a way to balance his anger with his duty to get vengeance, a trim woman with dark hair who was dressed in a conservative dark gray suit stepped up the door. “Captain Madrid?”
He rose to his feet and stepped over to her. “Brad Madrid.”
She held out her hand. “Margaret Huddleston. I’m a detective with MOSO General Crimes. That basically means I do initial investigations and hand them off if need be. Come up to my office and we’ll talk about your guy.”
If anything, the areas behind the counter were even more crowded. They must get a lot more trouble here than anyone in their right minds would expect.
She led him to an elevator, up to the third floor, and down the hall to a cramped office with a great view of the bathrooms. It was compulsively neat and the pictures on the wall seemed regimented.
“Have a seat,” she said as she slipped behind the desk. “Your man was at a bar and he’d consumed a lot of alcohol at the time of the incident. According to eyewitness accounts, he got into an argument with a Fleet officer that escalated to shoving. A punch was thrown but didn’t connect. Bystanders pulled them apart before anything really bad happened.”
Brad sighed. “I wish I could say I’m surprised. I’m glad no one was injured. How serious are the charges?”
The detective shrugged. “The drunk and disorderly can be dismissed with a fine. The assault on a Fleet officer is more serious. I realize that a shove seems minor in the grand scheme of things, but physical contact is physical contact. That’s technically assault.
“If Fleet decides to press the charge, we’ll remand your guy for a hearing. With the backlog in the judicial system, the initial hearing won’t be for a week or more. The actual process could take months to play out.”
“Does he have to be here for that or can we post bail?”
She shook her head. “The Commonwealth is a big place and people disappear all the time. If Fleet decides to make an example of him, your guy is here for the duration.”
Perfect. If Brad couldn’t pour oil on troubled waters, he’d have to find a new pilot.
“Who do I have to talk with to try and fix this?” he asked.
“The wronged party in this is Captain Weldon Shelby with Eternal. He’s supposed to come back tomorrow and file an official report of the incident. If you can convince him there’s no need, I’ll cut your guy loose with a stiff fine.”
“Do you have his contact information?”
“Sure. I’ll send it to your wrist-comp. It’s the general number to Eternal. They’ll get him your m
essage and he can call you back.”
“Thanks. Can I talk to Marshal?”
Detective Huddleston frowned. “Who?”
“My guy, John Marshal.”
A corner of her mouth jerked up. “There’s been some kind of misunderstanding. We’re holding Mike Randall. He claims he’s your chief engineer.”
Chapter Sixteen
Brad figured calling Captain Shelby in the morning was a better option, so he got what sleep he could and rose early. He’d slept like crap. No surprise.
Jim Shoulter, the junior engineer, came into the galley while he was eating breakfast. “Do you have a minute, Captain?”
“Pull up a chair,” he said with a nod. “It’s about Mike, isn’t it?”
The man gave him an odd look as he sat. “Yeah. I don’t think he came back in last night. At least, he’s not answering his door or com. I’m a bit worried.”
“I’ll pass the word around shortly, but he got into a scuffle last night. He’s in the security lockup. He’s fine, though.”
The tall man blinked and sat back in his chair. “A fight? Wow. I figured he was all bark and no bite.”
“Just goes to show how we never really know someone as well as we think. Is everything under control in engineering?”
“Sure. There’s some minor maintenance that I need to do, but it’s all normal.”
“Then keep doing what you need to do. If this takes longer than I hope, we’ll discuss our options.”
The man frowned. “Is it that bad?”
“It might be. I’ll know shortly.”
John Marshal sauntered into the galley and grinned at Dwayne Holmes as he took his plate of food from the wiry cook.
He sat down next to Brad and started eating without seeming to note the conversation already in progress.
“Man, last night was amazing,” the pilot said between bites. “I ran into an old friend and we stayed up late dancing. And, well, you know.”
Brad smiled a little. “I’m glad things worked out for you. Mike had some trouble.”
He explained the events of the evening to Marshal. So much for his intention of telling everyone at once.
Luckily, Jason, Shelly, and Saburo came in right after he got started, so he was able to back up just a little and tell the tale in one go.
Saburo leaned back in his chair with an amused expression. “I have to say, I’d have expected that of Marshal, not Randall.”
“Me, too,” Marshal said. “I’m the guy that causes trouble. Mike is the one that fixes it. He’s all bluster. He really shoved some Fleet guy?”
“So they tell me,” Brad said. “I’ll see if I can extract him from this in a little bit. It might be someone he knows. He was a Fleet officer before. Chief engineer on a battleship. Maybe Eternal.”
Jason shook his head. “How did he get to that rank with his temperament?”
“The universe is filled with wonders beyond human understanding,” Saburo intoned.
Brad laughed in spite of himself. “I suspect raw talent had something to do with it. Now get about your duties while I see if I can extract our engineer from this mess.”
He was on his way back to his cabin when one of the enlisted mercenaries called for him over the shipwide intercom. “Captain, there’s someone wanting to speak with you at the airlock.”
Rather than answer the call, he changed course and was there in less than twenty seconds. It was Private Paul Metcalf. The burly mercenary was staring at a Fleet officer on his screen.
Brad noted the transmission was muted, so he took a moment to study the man. Based on the rank insignia—identifying him as a Fleet captain without an independent command—this was probably Weldon Shelby, Eternal’s chief engineer. The man was short but wide. He’d be a serious brawler, if that was his inclination.
“What did he have to say?” Brad asked.
“Just that he had business with you, Captain. From his tone, I thought you might be expecting him.”
He supposed that was true. “Thanks, Paul.”
Rather than use the screen, Brad opened the airlock and stepped out to meet the Fleet officer with his hand extended. “Captain Shelby? Brad Madrid.”
The large man took his hand. “Captain Madrid. I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances, but I think we need to talk.”
“Step inside and we can use my office.”
The officer looked around as they made their way toward the bridge. “I served on a Fidelis when I was just starting out. Tough little ships. Have you seen much action in her?”
“A little. She was a pirate before I captured her. We just got her out of refit and had a bit of a scuffle on the way here. Yeah. she’s tough.”
Once they reached his office just off the bridge, he gestured for the man to sit and pulled his chair out from behind the desk to join him. This wasn’t the kind of conversation where he wanted to seem standoffish.
“It’s early for a drink, but I can offer you some coffee.”
Shelby shook his head. “I’m fully caffeinated already. Thanks for the offer, though.”
The man took a slow breath and grimaced. “I’m sure you already know I had a spot of trouble with Mike last night. I tried to calm him down, but things spun a little out of control.”
Brad wasn’t sure that was the right way to describe the incident, but he didn’t argue. “So, you know him.”
Shelby nodded. “Sure. He trained me on Eternal. I was his assistant chief when he and Commodore Bailey got into the kerfuffle that cost him his career. It was a damned shame. The man is the best engineer I’ve ever met.”
“It sounds as if you count him as a friend. Does that mean you’ll consider not pressing charges?”
“I’d rather not, but it isn’t completely up to me,” the other man said tiredly. “Commodore Bailey sent me to make him an offer last night. Let’s just say Mike didn’t take it well. The commodore is insisting on the deal now.”
Brad felt his expression harden as the demon inside him silently growled. “If you poke a bear, it isn’t the bear’s fault he mauls you. I don’t approve of blackmail.”
“Neither do I, but I’m not the one calling the shots.”
“It sounds as if you are. Mike shoved you, not Bailey. You’re the one about to put a friend you sought out through the meat grinder. Don’t.”
“I wish it were that simple, but I’m a Fleet officer under orders. If Commodore Bailey tells me to press charges, then I have to do it.”
“I doubt that’s a lawful order, but I understand. What was the offer? He’s under contract to me, so he can’t just go off on his own.”
“The offer actually required your cooperation. I swear it wasn’t blackmail. It’s a straightforward job that Fleet wants to hire you for.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Then you should’ve come to me first.”
“Probably,” the officer admitted. “It had been a long time since I’d seen Mike, so I just wanted to reconnect. In retrospect, that was probably a mistake.”
“What did you expect him to do? Intercede with me to take the job? The man is as stubborn as they get. Even I know he’d balk.”
Brad leaned forward. “It sounds to me as if you set out to get some leverage on me. This is a setup.”
“Maybe. The commodore is the one who told me Mike was back and ordered me to broach the subject with him specifically. As one might imagine, they don’t see eye to eye on a number of things.”
The officer shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Look, I really don’t want to be in the middle of this. Will you at least hear me out?”
Brad allowed some of the anger inside him to show. “You put one of my officers—someone you claim is a friend—in a position you knew would make him go off,” he growled. “You don’t get to be a captain in Fleet by being an idiot. Don’t act like one.”
He rose to his feet. “This meeting is over unless you drop the charges. I’d rather he didn’t go down like this, double-crossed by a friend, bu
t I have a company that I’m responsible for. The Vikings will not be blackmailed. Neither will I.”
Shelby stayed in his seat. “That’s harsh, but even if you don’t believe me, I don’t want to see Mike in this position. Or you. Please, hear me out.”
“No,” Brad said firmly. “If you insist on throwing Mike under the bus, that’s all on you. You’re either his friend or you aren’t. You’re either a man with principles or you aren’t. I don’t negotiate with people I can’t trust, and this is not the way to get me to help you.”
The other man sighed and rubbed his face. “You don’t know Bailey like I do. There will be consequences.”
“If taking a stand were easy, everyone would do it,” Brad said coolly. “Press charges and I’ll fight you and Fleet on this. Drop them and I might consider the job. Even if you won’t fight for a friend, you’d best realize you won’t get a better offer from me. Either agree or get off my ship.”
Shelby slumped a little. “Fine. I’ll drop the charges. I didn’t want to press them in the first place, and I really do like Mike. You’re a lot tougher than I expected a mercenary to be, Captain Madrid.”
“That’s kind of a requirement for being a mercenary. Let’s go spring Mike and you can take me to Eternal.”
The other man frowned. “What? Why do you need to go there?”
“Because if I’m going to fight over this job, I’ll do it with the person that actually wants to hire me. No offense, but you can only follow the line your commanding officer lays out for you. It’ll feel a lot better for me to tell Commodore Bailey to stuff it myself than passing that through you.”
That got a snort of laughter from the Fleet officer. “Part of me wants to be a fly on the wall for that meeting, but the rest of me wants to be far, far away from the fusion plant when it destabilizes.”
Shelby stood. “It’s obvious I have to cooperate with you, and as you said, the order is probably unlawful. That won’t stop Commodore Bailey from making my life miserable, but I’ll be able to sleep at night. Let’s do this before I come to my senses.”