Gun Runner

by B. V. Larson

  “Why? Are some of them going to carry one in each hand?”

  He laughed at my joke. “No, no, but some may malfunction. Possibly, I’ll need a few to trade or give away to prove their value when making a sale of my services.”

  My face wrinkled up in disgust. “I don’t plan to provide you with free samples to distribute, Trask.”

  “Fifteen hundred rifles and you have a deal.”

  I pretended to think it over. Now was the time for my big ask—the one I’d been waiting to make.

  “Baron Trask, you can keep that one rifle as a gift. But, in order to arm all of your men, I will have to make a long and difficult run.”

  “Ah… I see clearly now! You don’t have the rifles! You hand me one you purchased at a bazaar somewhere, then think to dazzle me with talk of thousands more. I can’t deal in possibilities, Gorman. I need weapons to arm my troops.”

  “Your men have electric lashes and shredders, don’t they? That’s an excellent combination when you don’t want to puncture the hull of a ship.”

  He looked at me with hooded eyes. “You describe the weapons of policemen and vagabonds. I know these are sufficient when invading enemy vessels, but with Sardez rifles… we could invade planets!”

  “Yes. Or you could blast down fortress walls on some lonely moon. You could forcibly enter docking stations and seize them.”

  Baron Trask had the yellow light of greed in his eyes now. It was unmistakable.

  “All right. I will take your paltry box of plutonium, and I will serve you. If however, clone of Gorman, you are playing me false, I will flay the false meat from your thick bones.”

  “Agreed,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand.

  He took my hand and clasped it firmly. A fateful deal had been struck.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  When we lifted off and reached orbit, every launcher on Gladius tracked us again, with shivering excitement. The missile batteries on this world had a very short fuse. They were ready to fire at the slightest provocation. The missile batteries only followed Royal Fortune, I noted, ignoring the Baron’s three ships that trailed us.

  In the bellies of each of Trask’s ships were four hundred cramped, complaining men. I knew they would be eager to get off these vessels to fight—even if it meant some of them would die in the effort. That had been the lot of every mercenary marine since time began.

  We flew through the cold heart of space for a week. I couldn’t use the full power of Royal Fortune without leaving the others in my wake. It felt like time was crawling—but at least it was moving toward an endpoint.

  “Gorman,” Baron Trask hailed me from his flagship on the eighth day, “I must come aboard your ship and lay our plans out carefully. I happen to have detailed schematics of the space station we’re approaching at Ceti.”

  “You’re always welcome here, Baron,” I said, and I maneuvered my ship to dock with his.

  “Captain,” Jort hissed at me. “They’re making their move! This is it!”

  Jort reminded me of a watchdog at times. He suspected every visitor of foul intentions. He sounded the alarm whenever a stranger dared come near. Possibly, he would prove to be right this time, but there was little that could be done about it.

  “Jort, go down and welcome Baron Trask at the airlock. I’ll wait in the conference room.”

  Shaking his head, he went to the lower decks to throw open the hatches. Sosa chose this moment to file her complaints as well.

  “Jort might be right. This Trask fellow—why can’t he plan with our linked networks? Why in person?”

  “A man like him likes to read people in person. It’s always easier to lie and conceal when you’re using an electronic means of communication.”

  She left me as well, seeming no more satisfied with my answers than Jort had been.

  I didn’t care what my crew thought. I needed Trask and his men. Everyone had been urging me to run out on the sword-brothers. I could easily use a startling burst of power from Royal Fortune’s thrumming engines to flee—but I had no such plans. I had to settle things with Kersen now, or he would eventually settle them with me. His reach was too great to simply run off and ignore him. I would have to keep running forever.

  Baron Trask came to my ship without guards or lieutenants. This was an encouraging sign. If he’d been paranoid or in a murderous mood, he’d probably have brought a trusted bodyguard at least. As it was, he sat across my conference table and gave me an appraising glance.

  “You know, it’s quite roomy here aboard your ship, Gorman.”

  “Thank you, lord. My crew is under-manned.”

  “Perhaps I can sell you a few good mates after this adventure is over.”

  I nodded, but privately I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want a surly, indentured man aboard my ship. I might take a freeman from Gladius—just possibly—but I didn’t want any slaves. They’d probably spy on me and seek to take the ship for themselves.

  “Let’s plan, then,” he said.

  We spent hours studying the diagrams, and we soon came to a simple realization.

  “Once we get aboard, the mission is almost certain to succeed,” Trask concluded. “The trick will be reaching the station and docking with her while our enemy sleeps.”

  “I agree. We have to trick our way in. The station has too many cannons to overcome by shelling them to death.”

  “No! There will be no indiscriminate destruction of my prize!”

  Baron Trask had big plans. He didn’t just want to kill Kersen—if he’d wanted to do that, he could have brought a hundred mercenaries and succeeded—no, he wanted to plunder the entire station. This was the main reason he’d decided to come along on this bold raid. It wasn’t just the payment I offered, it was the loot he planned to gain.

  I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about being a party to such an attack. After all, I was a gun runner, not a pirate. But it was too late now. Trask was eager and his eyes were filled with the yellow gleam of greed. He couldn’t be dissuaded from this course.

  “We can’t simply fly in with four ships,” he said, “all bearing the flag of the Sword Worlds, without people noticing.”

  “Agreed. Here’s what I suggest: one of your ships will pretend to be a smuggler and head to the surface. Dock on the ground, at the umbilical loading station. From there, you’ll have to take the ground station and ride up on the elevator.”

  Trask snorted. “What’s to stop them from severing the cable to the planet while we’re riding up the elevator?”

  “Vast losses of profit, for one thing. The umbilical cost nearly as much to construct as the station itself. I think they’re rather be robbed and killed than destroy it.”

  “Hmm… You might not be as confident when the raid begins. Men will do wild things when they believe they’re facing death and unfair treatment.”

  I nodded, but we couldn’t think of a better approach, so we adopted the plan.

  “The second ship will have the hardest job,” Trask continued. “The pilot will have to be devious, claiming to be a small, battered freighter.”

  “You’ll have to paint out that emblem on the side of all your vessels. That broadsword that first pierces a skull then rams down through the crust of a planet—it’s not heartening.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “This isn’t our first attempt at subterfuge. We have nano-fabric coverings that will slide over the offending flag of my people. They will not know they are doomed until it is too late.”

  We ran simulations with timers. The first ship would fly low, like a simple smuggler. Evading patrol boats it would land near the umbilical station then fly away, distracting the patrolmen into a pursuit. The invading troops, in the meantime, would attack.

  The second ship to move would be mine. I was to approach and discuss matters with traffic control. Undoubtedly, patrolmen in Kersen’s employ would come out to demand a search and seizure. It would be during that search that Sosa was supposed to release radiatio
n and hide.

  The real purpose of these negotiations was one of distraction. While I was talking to Kersen, another ship would come to dock, claiming to be a simple trader. At the same time, the mercenary regiment would be riding up the elevator from the planet.

  The last ship was insurance. If all else failed, or if two regiments of pirates weren’t enough, the third ship would approach. Hopefully, we’d have managed to disable the station’s cannons by then, as they were sure to fire at this point.

  Twelve hundred men against a well-armed station. It was going to be a fight, but we should win, even if one of the participating ships was blown from the sky.

  “I know my part,” I said at last. “On which deck will you stand?”

  Baron Trask snorted loudly. “On the third ship, of course. The one that stands out in space, waiting for the signal that the cannons have been disabled.”

  “You’re a brave man,” I remarked.

  Trask flashed his eyes at me angrily, he had not missed the jibe.

  “Says the clone of a brave man—who’s dead. I’m still alive, aren’t I? That’s quite a feat after two decades of piracy and warfare.”

  I nodded, unable to argue his point.

  Chapter Forty

  At the start, everything went as smoothly as possible. The baron’s first ship flew low, coming in from the far side of the planet. Her captain was Astrid, the only female knight in the Baron’s army.

  Astrid’s ship slid under most of the Ceti sensor net, weaving between the kilometer-high trees that dominated the planet’s wilderness. When the attacking ship got too close to the ground station, it was detected and threatened with cannons. Immediately, the knight-captain landed and deposited her troops. Before the patrol ships could reach the spot, she lifted off again and ran.

  A few canons fired after Astrid, and two patrol ships rose to greet her in orbit, but she refused to engage and led them on a wild chase. It was all part of the plan.

  In the meantime, my own ship approached, and I demanded to talk to Kersen. The station deployed patrol ships, but they didn’t move to intercept. After all, they knew how fast my ship was. They couldn’t hope to catch me unless I came closer. By the same token, they didn’t want to fire on us because they wanted my ship and the money I was supposedly bringing home to Kersen.

  “That’s right,” I said, “I have full payment. The people of Baden were quite generous. Sixteen kilos of plutonium, their finest grade, is in my hold among other things.”

  Kersen regarded me with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “Why didn’t you submit to arrest and seizure when you met with my ships out in open space, Gorman?”

  I laughed. “As far as I knew, Moreau was just another thief,” I told him. “Here, under the naked cameras of Ceti’s trading post, I feel far safer.”

  Kersen’s eyes roamed the bridge around me. They landed on Sosa and lingered there.

  “Hmmm…” he said. “Very well, here are your orders: You will approach at a calm speed, dock, and allow the ship to be boarded and unloaded. If all is as you say, I’ll be very pleased. I’ll give you another contract—and this time, I’ll pay you handsomely, Gorman.”

  Smiling broadly, I accepted his offer. Anyone watching the two of us would have thought we were the best of friends, anxious to meet and greet—but nothing could have been further from the truth. Each of us was trying to fool the other.

  I let Royal Fortune glide close to the base. The station’s cannons tracked me, but they didn’t fire. It was as I’d hoped, Kersen wanted me to return his ship without a scratch on her.

  Sosa, in the meantime, came onto the bridge and clawed at her side. “I swear, some filament left from that Tulk remains inside me. It’s itching—like it wants me to do it’s bidding still.”

  I looked at her in concern. “Is such a thing possible?”

  “I don’t know… maybe you didn’t kill all of it. Maybe some of the nerve endings are still entwined with mine.”

  “What could have awakened it?”

  Sosa looked at the dark holoplate. “It stirred when Kersen came into view. Perhaps it knows its master.”

  “Can you control yourself?” I asked quietly.

  “Yes, of course. The Tulk is dead. It’s only bothering me slightly.”

  Taking her at her word, I noticed the baron’s second ship was now attempting to dock. The captain was boasting of excellent trade goods at bargain prices. After a brief interview, the ship was allowed to approach the station. The sword-brothers would be met at the dock by a dozen guardsmen, of course, but Trask’s men would overwhelm them.

  After what felt like an endless period of time, I nosed the ship up to the docking tubes. I was purposefully moving in a very slow, methodical manner. When we docked at last, we sat there, silent.

  “Release the radioactive gas,” I whispered over the com-link.

  Sosa and Jort did as I requested, allowing radiation to seep out of our ship’s exhaust port into the docking chamber. In the meantime, I switched off most of the ship’s systems and let her sit quietly, inert.

  The plan was to play dead. It had to look like our ship had been bathed in radiation. With any luck, Kersen would assume Sosa had followed his orders and filled the ship with deadly gas the moment we landed.

  After ninety tense seconds, a signal came in. The workers wanted entry. We ignored this, arming ourselves and turning the lights low.

  “They don’t know Sosa’s Tulk is gone, so they’ll expect us to be dead,” I told Jort and Rose. “Hold your shredders up. When they force open the hatch, don’t hesitate.”

  Rose gave a shiver, but she held her gun with both her small, bloodless hands. I’d become a good judge of people under pressure. It was part of every starship captain’s job to do so. I figured Rose would fire her gun, not just huddle and whimper behind a console. She probably wouldn’t hit anything, mind you, but she’d fire all the same. That was good enough for her first battle.

  The hatch was overridden, and it screeched open. It swung wide with a resounding clang.

  The interior of our ship was steamy. We’d simulated a release of gas from the cooling jackets. The intruders seemed to have been fooled. They were wearing hazmat suits and respirators.

  They didn’t call out to us. They didn’t ask what was wrong, or even shout my name. Instead, they sent in two model-Ks armed with shredders.

  This was too much for me and my crew. I’d hoped Kersen himself would come aboard, but I could see now that wasn’t going to happen. We didn’t have any more time to lose. All four of us let loose a hail of bullets. Our shredders rattled and lit the dark interior of the ship with blazing gunfire.

  One model-K fell, then the other went down thrashing. They never even got a chance to give us any artificial advice about surrendering, or to list our various violations. We kept hammering their plastic and metal carcasses until they stopped moving. When they were left steaming and torn up on the deck, we stepped forward and looked out onto the docking area.

  There, we saw humans. These men worked for Kersen, and Moreau was in the lead. He looked shocked.

  “You won’t get away with this, Gorman!” Moreau shouted.

  In answer, we exchanged fire. Everyone on both sides ducked behind something solid. Although bullets spanged and clattered, no one was hit. Shredders were designed not to penetrate a ship’s metal hull, and any substantial cover gave us protection.

  Moreau retreated while we were reloading. Jort jumped up and leapt through the hatch, but I dragged him back.

  “No! Let them go. That’s why we hired twelve hundred mercenaries, remember?”

  Jort was breathing hard. He wanted to fight, but he nodded and came back into the safety of the ship.

  “What do we do now, Captain?”

  “We wait. We listen… When Trask gives the signal that the invasion is a success, we’ll walk out of here safely.”

  My crew agreed. Only Jort seemed upset. We clanged the hatch closed again and leaned aga
inst it, breathing hard and listening intently.

  In the distance, we could hear the sounds of gunfire and struggle. Sirens blared intermittently.

  Trask was storming the station.

  Chapter Forty-One

  “There is a problem, Gorman…” Baron Trask said via encrypted radio a few minutes later.

  Grabbing up the transmitter, I keyed it on and spoke to Trask. “What problem?”

  “Astrid’s force coming up the umbilical has stalled. The enemy has shut down the machinery.”

  “And the second regiment? Have they taken the sun-side docks like they were supposed to?”

  “For the most part, yes. They too have bogged down, however. They’re unable to penetrate deeper into the station. Patrol ships are converging from every direction now, bringing reinforcements. Hundreds of android troops will be pushing us back soon.”

  “Us?” I said, with a hint of bitterness. “I’m here inside the station, Trask. So are two of your three regiments. Why don’t you bring in the reserves? Land your personal ship and invade. They can’t stop attacks coming from every direction at once.”

  “That leads us to the third problem. I can’t dock my personal ship. If I were to do so, their defensive cannons would destroy me before I got within a thousand kilometers. Even now they quiver and track my every movement.”

  I bared my teeth in frustration and rubbed my face so hard it hurt. “All right. We’ll move in. With all the distractions, they might have forgotten about us.”

  “An excellent suggestion. I would hate to lose two thirds of my men, plus a ship. Fix this problem somehow, and I will be in your debt.”

  Trask closed the channel, and I was left shaking my head. I’d hired him to do the dangerous part. He was the mercenary, not me.

  I stared out the portholes. “Someone once said that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

  “Wise words,” Jort said. “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to open our hatch and sneak into the station. Everyone will be focused on Trask’s forces, not us. We’ll disable the cannons or get the umbilical elevator working again, whichever is easier.”