Sten and the Mutineers

by Allan Cole

  He started to rise, thought better of it, and sank woozily back into his seat.

  “And a protest, I must make,” he continued. “Everyone you speak to about Gregor—except us.” He indicated Rual and himself. “Complaints we have as well. A criminal, that man is.”

  “We have more than enough for a proper court martial without your input,” Sten said.

  “Still. Insist, I must,” Zheng said.

  “Yeah,” Rual put in. “We clottin’ insist.”

  “Insist all you like,” Sten said. “But I’m afraid any testimony you two gave would do more harm to your cause than good.”

  “Harm? Vat is this harm, you speak of?” demanded Zheng.

  “Both of you have extensive criminal records,” Sten said. “Kidnapping. Fraud. Theft. Violence. Possible murders, even.”

  There were gasps of surprise from the crewmembers. Obviously, Zheng and Rual had kept them in the dark about their backgrounds.”

  “What’s this, Zheng?” someone shouted. “You didn’t tell us you had a record.”

  There were other shouts and protests. Zheng struggled to his feet and turned on them.

  “Lies,” he cried. “All lies.” He pointed at Sten. “He vants to turn you against us. Discord, he vants to sow.”

  Rual waved her knife at the group. “Watch yer tongues,” she said. “Or, I’ll cut them out.”

  Sten raised a hand. “Shipmates!” he called out. “Calm yourselves. We’re here to talk about more important things than who is a criminal and who is not.”

  There were a few more angry retorts, but gradually everyone calmed down—except for Rual, who was so agitated Sten wondered if maybe they’d all get lucky and a blood vessel would burst in her teeny brain.

  “Remember my purpose,” Sten said. “I’m here to make an offer for the return of the Emperor’s goods.”

  That got him the silence he needed.

  “First off, I’m going to start with the issue of amnesty. I’m sure that is uppermost in your minds.”

  “Money, that’s all I clotting care about,” Rual said. “The rest is drakh.”

  But from the comments of the crewmembers, her view was far from universally shared.

  “From the facts Lt. Kilgour and I have gathered,” Sten said, “we have more than enough evidence for a court martial to return a guilty verdict against Captain Gregor.”

  The reaction from the crew was loud and decidedly positive. Except for Zheng and Rual. The looks they exchanged were murderous to the extreme.

  “In fact,” Sten went on, “there are several charges that are firing squad offenses.”

  The roar of approval shook the control room. Crewmembers were embracing and pounding one another on the back.

  Only Zheng and Rual looked unhappy. Sten was wondering when one of them might act on their displeasure when he saw Rual tip the nod to two beefy mutineers. They were definitely knuckle draggers of the inbred human variety, with beetled brows, fist-scarred faces and eyes so close together you could put them out with one finger.

  Without warning, the two men charged. They were swinging heavy, two-foot long wrenches, and the other crewmembers scrambled out of the way as the thugs closed in on Sten and Alex.

  Sten easily slipped the blow of the first man, stepping aside to let him stumble past. He grabbed the thug’s wrist as he went, twisting and half-dropping to one knee.

  There was an audible crack! and a howl of pain as the man’s wrist snapped and he flopped to the floor, groaning and cradling his wrist.

  “You broke it,” he blubbered like a wronged schoolboy.

  Meanwhile, Alex didn’t bother dodging the blow that was aimed at him. Instead, he caught the heavy wrench in midswing and plucked it away as if from a child. The force of the swing carried the big man forward.

  The heavy worlder grabbed him by the elbow, spun him around, and booted him in the arse—lifting him from the deck and sending him flying at Rual.

  The thug crashed headfirst at Rual’s feet, where he remained, groaning in pain.

  Rual peered down at the man, clearly disgusted. She spat on him, then looked up at Sten, eyes burning with hatred.

  The command room was dead silent. Everyone stared at Sten and Alex, wondering what was going to happen next.

  Sten brushed his hands together, as if ridding them of dirt.

  “Now, let’s talk money,” Sten said, as if nothing untoward had occurred.

  Tension immediately drained away, and the crew looked at him expectantly.

  Sten named a figure.

  The reaction was such that he knew he’d topped whatever Venatora had offered by a wide margin.

  He waited until the uproar died down, then said, “Lt. Kilgour and I will return to our ship and let you discuss the terms without interference. If you have any questions before you take your final vote, you only have to call.”

  With that, he turned and motioned for Shaklin to lead them back to their lighter. At the door, he paused long enough to add, “Just make sure you don’t take too long to decide.”

  Zheng spoke up. “And if more time, we need, what then?” The little toad would be defiant to the last.

  “Yeah,” Rual said. “What about it?”

  Sten stared at both Rual and Zheng long and hard. He said, “Don’t test me. You won’t like how it turns out.”

  Then he was gone, and Zheng was bitterly cursing his name.

  The man on the floor tried to sit up. Rual kicked him in the ribs.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  THREE HOLY KILGOURS

  Ida had a split screen up on the vidwall. On the left, she could see Sten and Alex strapping themselves into the seats of their lighter and going through their flight check list before setting off to the Jo’l Cash.

  On the right—thanks to the bugs Kilgour had planted—she could monitor the Flame’s command room, where crewmembers were gathered around Zheng and Rual. She didn’t know what they were saying—for some reason, the sound wasn’t working yet—but there was much hand waving, shout-contorted faces, and other signs that Zheng and Rual were resisting demands for an immediate vote to accept the Emperor’s offer. But from all appearances they were in the minority. She doubted the ringleaders of the mutiny could resist much longer.

  Good. The sooner they got this crazy-ass mission behind them, the sooner she could continue her interrupted vacation. She was anxious to get back to playing the galactic commodities market with her new boy toy. If they put their heads together—as well as other interesting body parts—they could clean up shorting the Imperium X market.

  She had a little chuckle over that train of thought. You are getting to be a dirty old Rom woman in your old age, Ida, she thought.

  She looked over her shoulder at Doc, who was studying the faces and body movements of the crew, paying particular attention to Zheng and Rual. He’d been oddly quiet for the past hour, and Ida wondered what the furry little vampire was thinking.

  “That seemed to go well enough,” she said. “Sten and Kilgour kept them off guard the whole time. Sten played the big brother, or the uncle near your age, to a perfect ‘T’. Those scrotes were eating it up.”

  She glanced at the screens, then back at Doc. “Except for Zheng and Rual,” she added. “They weren’t buying any of it.”

  Doc scratched his furry ear, and she frowned. This was Doc’s tell. A natural Doubting Thomas, Doc’s psy antenna was almost visibly a-quiver when the doubts went to something worse. When that happened, he got an itch behind his right ear that demanded immediate relief.

  “She isn’t done escalating yet,” he said, indicating Rual. “She’s too worked up and can’t come down. Somebody needs to hit her with either a triple strength opioid or a padded club, whichever is closest to hand.” More ear scratching. “And that clotting Zheng,” Doc said. “He’s acting like
somebody used the above-mentioned padded club on him. It’s like he’s in a trance, letting Rual rail on without stepping in before she loses control.”

  Aboard the lighter, Sten and Alex exchanged worried looks. He keyed the mic. “That was my reading, too, Doc,” he said. “But now I’m beginning to wonder if it’s deliberate. That maybe he wants Rual to blow.”

  He fished a com unit out of his pocket. “Let me see if I can connect with Shaklin. Get him to step in.”

  Sten spoke into it. Shook his head. Fiddled with controls, then sighed. “No go. Some kind of interference.”

  “I’m sorting out the sound, so don’t worry,” Ida said, sounding a little testy. As if everybody thought the problem was her fault.

  “Sure, sure, no problem” Sten said as soothingly as he could. Ida could get touchy when things technical dared to defy her.

  “Also, Sten,” Ida said, “don’t forget you have the garbage option. If things go south, hit that eject button, and fast.”

  She was reminding him of the Paku Defender she’d stashed in the trash chute. It was basically a shield, but with the nasty habit—from the attackers point of view—of not just warding off explosives, but projecting them back at two or three times the original force.

  Sten laughed. “That’s right, all I gotta do is take out the trash,” he said.

  * * * *

  Meanwhile, in the Flame’s command room, Shaklin was stepping into the fray. Tall and dark, he gave off the auroa of infinite wisdom. In the chaos that had descended upon the command room he was an imposing figure who immediately caught everyone’s attention.

  Kilgour noted that although the sound was still cut off and he couldn’t hear what Shaklin was saying, he had an obvious calming influence on the group. Even Rual seemed to settle down a bit.

  Alex drew everyone’s attention to the scene. “Dinnae fash, lads and lassies,” he said. “Ah have infinit’t faith in our wee bishop. He’s got th’ God of Many Names on his side.”

  Sten shot Alex a scoffing, give-me-a-break look. “Since when did you get religion, Kilgour?” he said.

  Alex looked miffed. “Why, it’s a well known fact that all Kilgours are religious,” he said. “And we have any number of holy lads and lassies to speak’it to th’ Big Man fer us.”

  “Ri-i-ight,” Sten scoffed. He’d heard Alex’s views on religion many times and knew his friend to be a staunch atheist like himself.

  “Och, ye ay wee faith,” Alex said, “it’s a weelk-knoon fact ’at aw Kilgours ur religious. Ain we hae onie number ay holy lads and lassies tae speak’it tae th’ Big Cheil for us.”

  “If you say so,” Sten said, as he gently separated the lighter from its berth and started away from the Flame.

  Kilgour put a big hand on his chest as if insulted. “Ye be temptin’ the devil, lad,” he said. “Ye shoods ken thaur ur Kilgour priests, ministers, rabbis…ye name’t it, whatever th’ religion there’s a Kilgour to uphauld it.”

  Despite himself, Sten was drawn in. “No wonder there are so many atheists,” he said. “Mystery solved. The Kilgour clan is singlehandedly driving people away from religion.”

  “Nothin’ further frae th’ truth,” Alex protested. “Why, three ay mah great-great uncles waur such miracle workers when it cam tae convertin’ th’ unfaithful ’at they e’en converted a forest full ay bears.”

  “Okay, okay,” Sten said, stricken with the sudden fear that he had just stepped into a Kilgour shaggy dog story trap. “Never mind that. Pay attention to the com board. We have people who’d like to see us dead, you know.”

  “Yoo won’t gie off sae easily, young Sten,” Alex said. “Yoohave insulted th’ dignity of the Shaolin Kilgour!”

  A swarm of the Flame’s repair bots appeared on the port screen and Sten was kept too busy avoiding them to stop Kilgour’s flow.

  “One day three of mah uncles waur takin’ their ease in a pub,” Kilgour said, “discussin’t their favorite ways ay convertin’ folks.

  “They were diff’rint because one uncle was a Catholic priest in good standing, anither was a Baptist minister and th’ third was a wee rabbi of the Jewish faith.

  “An’ although they wair holy men, they fell intae argument abit who was th’ best. Fer a real challenge of their convertin’ skills, they agreed, wood be tae preach to a bear.

  “Weel, one body hin’ led tae anither, an they decided on a experiment. They’d each go to th’ woods, fin’ a bear, preach tae it, an attempt tae convert it tae their religion.”

  Ida’s voice broke in. “Okay, Kilgour, knock it the clot off. This is neither the time or the place for—”

  Kilgour cut her off. “Ye got yer nethers in an uproar, lass,” he said. “Ah fear religion is th’ only cure fur ye.”

  And with that, he went on:

  “So, back to me three uncles. Seven days later they came together to discuss their experiences.

  “Father Kilgour—the priest—hud his arm in a sling, was on crutches an’ hud bandages aw ower his body. He said, ‘I went intae th’ wood tae fin’ me a bear and when Ah found heem, Ah began to read tae heem frae th’ holdy Catechism.

  “‘Weel, at furst th’ bear wanted nae tae do wi’ me and began to slap me around. Sae, Ah quickly grabbed me holy water an’ sprinkled heem all over his furry body. An’—just like tha’—he became as gentle as a sweet lamb… Th’ bishop is comin’ next week tae gie heem First Communion an’ Confirmation!’”

  At that moment the sound aboard the Flame cut in and they heard a blood-freezing shriek.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  THE ATTACK

  That the shriek came from Rual was no surprise.

  “Can’t you see that Sten’s makin’ clottin’ fools of us,” Rual was shouting. “All that sweet talk about court martials and amnesty and enough credits to choke an equine.”

  “Now, Rual,” Shaklin was saying, “there’s no reason to get upset. This is just a discussion preliminary to a vote.”

  “Vote! Vote!” Rual shrieked. “Who said this was a clottin’ democracy? Sten’s a fraud, I tell you. I’ll bet he got a clottin’ Imperial battleship standing by. Ready to board us the moment we give in.”

  Sten and Alex looked at each other. Sten shrugged. That was pretty much the plan.

  “And I tell you, they are gonna haul every single man Jack and Jill among us before firing squad,” Rual said.

  “Come, now,” Shaklin said, almost pleading. “Captain Sten had every appearance of being an honorable man. He gave us his word!”

  “Word? Word?” Rual thundered. “I’ll show you what I think of his clottin’ word! Drakh, that’s all it is! Drakh!”

  And with that, she lunged toward the weapons’ board.

  Sten heard Ida shout, “Eject! Eject!”

  And his hand was going for the Paku Defender trigger just as Rual hit the switch.

  * * * *

  Aboard the Jo’l Cash, Ida and Doc saw everyone diving on Rual, but it was too late. The missile had been launched. At this point, the lighter was only about six klicks from the Flame and the explosion was almost instantaneous.

  Ida switched to another view and saw the immediate aftereffect. A blinding white flash enveloped the little ship. But a moment later the lighter emerged from the flash, unscathed and shot away at a blinding speed.

  At the same time, the explosion rippled backward, hitting the Flame.

  Another explosion. This time engulfing the tail section of the mutineers’ ship.

  It glowed an eerie golden color, then the color faded and tail section emerged seemingly undamaged, except for a black charring streak where the name of the ship had been painted.

  Ida got the bugs aboard the Flame operational again and saw that Shaklin and several members of his congregation had Rual pinned up against the wall.

  But instead of being furious, Ru
al was laughing.

  “Now, that’s torn it,” she was shouting. “Whether any of you like it or not, we just gave Sten his answer.”

  Her words so stunned the group that they let her shake loose.

  “The only choice we’ve got,” she said, “is to hit him now and hit him as hard as we can. Then jump the clot out of this sector before Sten has a chance to hit back.”

  Zheng shook off the stupor he’d sunk into. “Rual, sometimes crazy, she is,” he said. “But stupid she is not.

  “She is right. Hit him, we must. Every missile we must fire. And then jump. Far, far away we must jump.”

  “Someplace the Emperor can never find us,” Rual said. “And then we can contact Venatora again. Sell the stuff and go about our merry richman’s way!”

  Zheng moved toward the weapon board. At the same time—aboard the Jo’l Cash—Ida’s hands were moving toward her own bank of weapons.

  She’d obliterate the wench. Unfortunately, she’d be wiping out the Imperium X train at the same time. And that was definitely not in their mission orders.

  Aboard the lighter, Sten saw a strange wavering motion just to the left of the Holoimager.

  Guessing what Ida was about to do, he jumped in.

  “Ida, wait!”

  Ida said, “Are you crazy, if I wait we’ll all be burnt toast.”

  “Just wait,” Sten ordered.

  Cursing under her breath, Ida waited.

  And then the wavering image aboard the Flame firmed. Until it became that of a remarkably beautiful woman.

  It was Venatora.

  And at that moment all the bugs aboard the Flame went dark.

  * * * *

  In the control room of the Jo’l Cash, Ida stared at the blank screen.

  “Drakh,” she said. “And fall back in it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  GREGOR’S REVENGE

  Sten fished out his com unit, flipped it to Shaklin’s mode, then spoke into it:

  “Shaklin? This is Sten. If you hear me, don’t try to speak unless no one is around. Click once for ‘yes,’ twice for ‘no’” He paused, then, “Do you read me?”