Black Sword (Decker's War, #5)

by Eric Thomson

Talyn drove them to a semi-abandoned warehouse district close to Treves’ spaceport. Their skimmer slipped through a half-open gate into a weed-overgrown yard filled with rusted hunks of metal and broken plastic scraps.

  “Open the door for me, Zack,” she said, stopping in front of a derelict building.

  Decker jumped out of the skimmer and hauled the heavy panel aside. Once Talyn had threaded her way in, he pulled it shut again. By the time he joined them, both women stood beside the vehicle’s open cargo door.

  “We’re about to become a trio of unremarkable civilians.” Talyn reached into the compartment, pulled out a bundle, and tossed it at Decker. “Yours.”

  She reached in again and handed a second bundle to Redmon before taking a third for herself.

  “Armor and uniforms and anything that might identify you as deserters go on your seats.”

  “Weapons?”

  “Those too. You won’t make it through Treves spaceport, let alone Valeux Station with Fleet-issue carbines. However, you will find civilian pattern blasters in the bundles I gave you along with your pig sticker, Zack.”

  “Faces?”

  “Whatever you need to match your cover ID images is in there too. I’ll help Ari with hers.”

  “And the blaze of glory?”

  “That’s on you, Mister Master Gunner. Make the skimmer vanish in a bright flash attributable to the insurgents. I’d like the militia’s forensics team to find tiny pieces of uniform, armor, ordnance, and skimmer, and assume any organic residue was turned to carbon.”

  “Did you bring me a little terrorist’s starter kit?”

  She shook her head.

  “No, but since I’ve seen you turn entirely innocent fuel cells into things that go bang with a vengeance, I didn’t think it necessary to risk my cover. People scavenging for parts that can be misused by bomb makers attract attention in Treves these days.”

  “At least tell me you packed some useful tools. The skimmer’s onboard kit won’t help with the fine scale work I need to do.”

  Talyn leaned into the vehicle and opened a compartment on the driver’s side, extracting a small plastic box. She tossed it at him.

  “Here you go.”

  He snatched it out of the air and opened the lid.

  “It’ll do. Brownie points for you, Commander. Redeemable once we’re FTL.”

  “You realize we three will travel in the same cabin, right?” Talyn asked, deadpan.

  Decker gave her a lascivious smile.

  “I’m sure Ari can be persuaded to wander through the ship for a few hours.”

  “I see what you meant when you said he gets worse.”

  A faint blush spread across Redmon’s olive skin. Decker made it darken with a knowing smirk.

  An hour later, he crawled out of the skimmer’s power plant compartment and gave his companions the once-over.

  “Nicely done,” he said wiping his hands on a rag torn from his issue t-shirt. Neither Talyn nor Redmon looked much like the Marines who had entered the abandoned factory.

  “Tell me your work is as good as mine,” Talyn said, nodding at what she hoped was now an IED.

  “I’ve rigged the carbine power packs to start a feedback loop that’ll end with a small bang. Since they’re now stuck hard against the skimmer’s reactor, the shock wave should breach the containment vessel. Once that happens, it will set off a chain reaction that’ll make your standard thermal grenade look like a fart in a hurricane. By the time this thing burns out, who knows what the cops will find?”

  “How will you trigger your creation?”

  Decker gave his partner an evil grin.

  “I’ve had no choice but to do so already. Since you two are good to go and it’ll take me a fraction of the time to change and mask up, we’ll be fine.”

  “Are you saying we’re slow?” Talyn asked in a dangerous tone.

  “I’m saying that if you distract me for too long, we might see the fruits of my labors up close.”

  He stripped off his battle dress and underwear, unfazed by their stares, and pulled on the civilian garb his partner had provided. Then, using the skimmer’s windows as a mirror, he applied the disguise to his face with a practiced hand.

  “There,” Decker said straightening his back, satisfied that he now resembled his ID picture. “I figure we have about half an hour before she blows. I hope you remember the way out.”

  Talyn led them across the abandoned warehouse and then through a maze of garbage-strewn alleys until they emerged on one of the secondary roads leading to Treves spaceport.

  As militia guards passed them through the outer security perimeter, satisfied they weren’t rebel scum, a dull thud reached their ears, but they pretended not to notice. Emergency sirens didn’t sound until they’d bought seats on the next shuttle to Valeux Station and passed the internal security checkpoints.

  Decker thought he saw a column of black smoke twisting its way into the sky before the shuttle closed hatches in preparation for takeoff.

  Ninety minutes later, as they strolled along Valeux Station’s main promenade, looking for a decent eatery, Decker let out a soft grunt of dismay and hunched his shoulders to reduce his apparent size.

  “What?” Talyn asked.

  “See that tall, thin party with the lavender hair, leathery skin, and Jackal-chic tattoos over by the lifts?”

  “Sure.”

  “Her name’s Ros. I may have spent a certain amount of time near her when I passed through Valeux looking for Hal Tarra. Enough she might wonder whether I’m my own brother or first cousin if she gets too good a look at my current mug.”

  “Sheesh, Zack.” Talyn shook her head in dismay. “You went to bed with a Howler?”

  “She was more of a grunter, but yeah.”

  “As you’ll eventually discover, my partner has outsized appetites,” Talyn told Redmon, “and the morals of an alley cat. Even Confederacy of the Howling Stars members don’t seem off limits.”

  “She was my ticket into the Jackals’ mercenary pipeline. Otherwise, I’d have passed. Contrary to scurrilous rumors, I can show restraint and good taste. Besides, you’re hardly one to pontificate about morality, my dear.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere. I hope you like teppanyaki,” she replied nudging him towards the nearest restaurant.

  Just as Decker was about to enter on Talyn’s heels, Ros glanced in his direction and their eyes met, but to his surprise, without the slightest spark of recognition on her part.

  Once inside, he said, “False alarm. She doesn’t remember me.”

  Talyn gave her partner a knowing smile.

  “Why do I detect a hint of disappointment in your voice? Perhaps the impression you made on this Ros lasted no longer than the one you left in her bed.”

  “If I’m not memorable, then why have you insisted on turning me into the man of a thousand faces, none of them my own?”

  “I didn’t say you weren’t memorable, darling, I merely pointed out she probably saw you as a starship passing in the night.”

  Talyn’s ironic tone matched the impish twinkle in her eyes and Decker, who knew when to give up, pointed them at a vacant booth.

  “Unless you’d rather eat somewhere else, now we know I’m a non-person around here.”

  “This is fine,” she replied, laying a hand on his arm. “Just tell me you caught nothing from your mobbed-up paramour that’s not covered by our full-spectrum immunization. She looked like the type who gets ridden hard and put away wet.”

  “If I have, I don’t know about it, and by now, you’ve caught it too, so why worry? And just to set the record straight, that night I was the one ridden hard.”

  “On that note,” Talyn slid into the booth, “I suggest we make it a leisurely meal. Diogenes won’t board until sixteen hundred hours, station time.”

  Decker made a face at the starship’s name. “Ugh. Another damned tramp.”

  “What? You expected to find a White Star liner out here? At least we
don’t have to cool our heels aboard Valeux waiting for our ride. But if it makes you feel better, Diogenes will only take us part of the way. We’ll have our crack at a week of luxury aboard a better class of transport. Now,” she called up a holographic menu projection. “Shall we splurge on a human chef and enjoy the show?”

  *

  “Hang on,” Decker put a restraining hand on Talyn’s arm, stopping in front of a news screen on their way to the docks. “This might interest us.”

  A burned-out structure replaced the synthetic newsreader on the display.

  “The militia’s Treves Division confirms that a terrorist attack took place in the old warehouse district earlier today,” the AI said in its mellifluous voice. “The victims are believed to be Commonwealth Armed Services members. Formal identification is expected to be difficult, thanks to the force of the explosion and ensuing fire that left little more than the twisted carcass of a Marine Corps skimmer. Spokespersons from the militia and the 14th Marine Regiment have vowed to bring swift and ruthless justice on the perpetrators of this cowardly act.”

  “Rest in Peace, Privates Whate and Lee,” Decker muttered. “We hardly knew you.”

  “And Lieutenant Colonel Bucceri?” Talyn asked in an equally low voice.

  “To hell with damned officers,” he replied, blowing her a kiss.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you actually enjoyed being a ranker again, just one of the lads. Come on. Diogenes has started boarding, and I still haven’t heard Ari’s story. You can send your condolences to the regiment at our next stop.”

  “Major Zachary Thomas Decker regrets the loss of his alter ego, Bill Whate,” Zack intoned as they resumed walking. “That’ll go over well. Speaking of which, I hope the boss has turned me back into the innocent man I was.”

  “No idea, but probably not yet. He’ll be waiting until he knows we’re inbound before sending Commonwealth v. Decker, Z.T., down the memory hole.”

  “How about Commonwealth v. Redmon, A.?” Ariane asked.

  “That’ll take a bit more doing and will likely have to wait until we’ve unraveled this mess.”

  “Of course.”

  *

  Several hours later, with Valeux Station and Marengo rapidly shrinking in the distance, they locked themselves in the four bunk cabin they’d been assigned. Decker cracked open the bottle of whiskey he’d bought on the promenade before leaving and splashed a good measure in each of the three glasses Talyn produced.

  “I propose a toast.” He raised a glass half full of amber liquid.

  “If it’s to Lee and Whate, don’t bother,” Talyn replied. “Not even if you include my alter ego to that list. Raising your glass to the dead when they’re not really dead is considered bad luck.”

  “Tempting fate, even if that superstition is utter balderdash wasn’t my intention. I was about to propose a toast to the complete eradication of Black Sword.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Redmon said.

  “I would too if I knew what this Black Sword might be, though judging by the frighteningly intense flames of hatred in Ari’s eyes, I might make a few educated guesses.”

  “Then let’s wet our whistles so Ari can retell her tale for your benefit. Death to Black Sword.”

  “Death to Black Sword.”

  Decker took an appreciative sip and smacked his lips.

  “Rotgut, but not bad, considering the price I paid. It’ll be better than anything the saloon on this tub offers. Ari, you’re on.”

  When Redmon fell silent, an hour and several drams later, Talyn’s face wore the grimmest mask Decker had ever seen.

  “The obvious inference,” she said after draining her glass and holding it out for a refill, “is that we can’t trust anyone. If you and I never heard of Black Sword, Zack, it means our colleagues in counterintelligence have been compromised. From there, it’s not hard to conclude our side of the house might be equally soiled by treason.”

  “We can trust our friends at the Pathfinder School and the 1st Special Forces Regiment,” Decker replied, “but at Fleet HQ? I wholeheartedly agree.”

  “Ari, who else do you know belongs to Black Sword besides Allister Wynt?”

  She rattled off a half-dozen names and said, “They were part of my circle, so their membership is confirmed. There are another half-dozen I’ve met who probably belong, but since they weren’t in my circle, I can’t confirm anything.”

  Redmon listed those.

  “It sounds like Wynt is one of their leaders,” Talyn said. “Was that your impression as well?”

  “Definitely. The others, even those of higher rank, treated him with a certain amount of deference in private.”

  “What are you thinking?” Decker asked his partner. “Other than we have a lot of terminations with extreme prejudice on our plate?”

  “That we might be truly fucked. Uphill battle doesn’t even begin to describe things.”

  “How so?” Redmon asked.

  “If we don’t know who we can trust, especially if our section has been infiltrated, then we have to find our own way out of this. I’m sure Zack will realize what that means in a second or two.”

  “Aye.” The Marine nodded, his face now set in the same dark granite as Talyn’s. “And that takes me back to my earlier comment. The only folks we can rely on are at Fort Arnhem, and they’re not particularly famous for being delicate.”

  “No, but they are known to be very thorough,” Redmon said. “So what happens when we reach Caledonia?”

  A bitter laugh escaped Talyn’s throat.

  “I don’t have the foggiest idea, Ari. Operating on home turf without our CO’s sanction or our section’s support will be a novel experience. The sole advantage I can see is that both of you have been declared dead and I vanished from sight months ago, meaning no one will expect us. The trick is to turn that advantage into a winning plan.”

  Thirty-Eight

  “I’m still not convinced, Zack.” Talyn dropped her bag on the sagging bed and sat beside it. They had taken a room in a rundown inn on the wrong side of Sanctum, Caledonia’s capital, after passing through arrivals control without a hitch. “Nobody knows we’re here, let alone that you and Ari are alive. Perhaps we should keep it that way.”

  Decker sighed and took one of the chairs facing his partner.

  “We’ve had this discussion every single day since leaving Marengo, Hera. If I can’t trust Josh Bayliss, then I might as well surrender. I’ve known him for over twenty years. He’s a man of honor who would find the very notion of something like Black Sword utterly repugnant.”

  “Agreed.” Redmon’s voice rang out through the open bathroom door. “And I can vouch for my old gang in the regiment.

  “However highly you may think about your abilities,” Decker continued, “not even you can come up with a workable plan to rescue us from this chaos without calling for support. If we’re not going to trust anyone in Naval Intelligence, then my Pathfinder buddies are it.”

  When she gave him a stubborn glare, he chuckled.

  “Ari, I believe Hera’s spooked, now that we’re on the ground. A first for me. I didn’t think her tiny spectrum of emotions ran that far into the scared.”

  Talyn made an obscene gesture at him, and this time he laughed outright.

  “Honey, Ari didn’t run across any noncoms in Black Sword. Besides, it smells like the sort of garbage that would appeal only to officers who’ve never served in the ranks. I’d say we’re safe calling on Josh. Once he knows how things are, he can round up a team.”

  “He’ll probably tap QD Vinn and those who were in his troop back when I had the squadron,” Redmon said, taking the other chair. “People who know me trust me and want to pay back the fuckers who sent me to Desolation Island. Hera, if you’ve never served in a Pathfinder or Special Forces unit, you do not understand how intense personal loyalties based on trust are. In your business, you trust no one. In Zack’s and mine, things work differently. Let him contact J
osh. My neck’s on the line too, and I see no other way to come up with a workable course of action. We need backup.”

  Talyn raised her hands in surrender.

  “Fine, but let’s make sure your call doesn’t come to the attention of anyone involved with Black Sword.”

  “Actually, I figured I’d take the train to Carrick and then either call Josh from a public terminal or take a hike up the road to Fort Arnhem.”

  “You? Alone?”

  He nodded.

  “Me, alone. That way if I come to the attention of the wrong people, you and Ari are still at large. And since you’re one of the very few people capable of interrogating someone like me with any sort of success, it’ll stay that way.”

  “I don’t like us splitting up again.”

  “If you have an alternative to propose, I’ll consider it, but failing that, I’m on the first train tomorrow morning.”

  “You don’t think folks might recognize you? Sanctum and environs have the highest concentration of people who remember Zack Decker. Plenty of them even hate you enough to cause trouble.”

  “Two things.” Decker held up a hand with index, and middle finger extended. “One, everybody who hates my ass believes I’m stuck on Desolation Island, light years away from here, for the rest of my life. They won’t believe their lying eyes when they see someone who looks like my first cousin.”

  “And two?”

  “No ID checks on the train, meaning I won’t have to travel looking like a blurry version of me. I’ll pay the shopping complex across the road a visit and buy what I need to become one of those Fleet veterans with no fixed address. The kind who travels from place to place as it suits their whimsy.”

  “What if a cop asks for your ID?”

  “Then I’ll show the one I carry right now and say I’ve let myself go, hence the rough appearance. They expect that from vagrants. At worst, I’ll receive a warning to have the picture updated.”

  When she seemed unconvinced, he gave her a reassuring smile.

  “There was a time, between my early retirement from the Corps, and the fateful day I signed on to Shokoten’s crew, when I was such a wanderer. Only much less sober than I am now. I can pull it off, no problems. You and Ari just need to stay put, keep out of sight, and wait for me to return with the cavalry. If you could come up with something workable involving, say, a troop of special operators while I’m gone, that would be great. Whatever help I bring back from Fort Arnhem will be unofficial, unsanctioned, and probably illegal, so the quicker we move, the better.”