“Anyway, there’s a shortage of small arms ammunition and what there is available has doubled in price.”
“Strange that,” Rita said, puzzled. “Is there a war on and nobody told me?”
“Trust me, I’d be the first to hear,” Ray said. “Anyway, the presidents of the two companies that make the small arms ammunition will be at the reception and it’s my one chance to get them in a corner and bend their elbows about meeting the contracts they signed at the price they agreed to.”
Rita frowned. “They signed contracts to provide so much ammo at such and such a price?”
“Yep.”
“Dad would be very put out with any subcontractor who reneged on a signed contract. Aren’t they just selling you the stuff they already had in stock? Ammo that they maybe took back from those divisions you broke when you were here last?”
“I don’t think so,” Ray said, but now he was looking puzzled.
“Let’s get dressed. I’ll help you break a few arms. I’m in the mood to break heads, but, no doubt, the milk of human kindness that flows in your veins will force me to settle for just arms.”
“Love of my life, I haven’t blown any shit up for two, no, three weeks. I’m about due to let loose a little havoc myself.”
21
Major General Ray Longknife looked around the reception at the Society Embassy, on Savannah and found little had changed. It was a bit more dilapidated. The walls were in greater need of a new coat of paint, the carpet a bit more threadbare. The fake flowers were looking down right droopy.
But no one came here for the decor. They came for the conversation or not at all.
He was in his dress dinner uniform. Rita had made a face and pulled one of her civilian gowns from their wardrobe. “I swear, the men who make woman’s uniforms hate us,” she said, for at least the fiftieth time since they’d met.
Before they’d married, she would have swallowed the issue and worn her uniform; she was so proud to be serving in uniform. Now, she muttered and wore something that left Ray wishing his dinner dress still included a sword he could use to cut it off her.
He could also use it to fight off the civilians who would be enjoying the way Rita’s no longer otherwise employed, but not yet shrunken down to size, breasts filled that gown.
He spotted Becky Graven, the Foreign Service Officer who had been his right hand during the recent unpleasantness on Savannah. Or maybe he’d been her right hand.
It was often hard to tell which way it went when good diplomats worked with good troopers.
“I’m glad to see that you two could make it,” Becky said to the both of them.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Rita lied.
Or did she mean it? Mean that she wasn’t about to let Ray loose around Becky.
It’s nice when the wife’s just a tad jealous, Ray told himself.
“I understand,” Rita went on, “that you have the small ammunition manufacturers here who are suddenly short of ammo. Is there some war in the back hill country that you aren’t telling us about?”
“None that I heard,” Becky said, with the hint of an honest frown. “However, I’ve been told I’m not all that up to date on the latest rumors and intel. They’re shipping someone out from Earth. A Trevor Crossenshield. He’s supposed to be some hot shot in the information management business and now he’s to be our expert at managing what little information we have.”
Ray raised an eyebrow. “Is this new news? I should have thought that with the lack of action by the pirates that the interest from Earth would be simmering down.”
Becky shook her head, sending her carefully coifed short blond hair bouncing. “It was sent out here by a priority message. I understand they poured him into a high-speed courier sloop. He’ll be here in a couple of days.”
“Interesting,” Rita said, intrigued, but not enough to be turned from her main interest. “Now, about those ammo salesmen.”
“Let me introduce you to them,” Becky said, and led Ray and Rita that way.
The men were older than Ray would have expected, say mid-fifties. Becky introduced them as men who had only recently gotten back their family businesses from Unity party thugs who had confiscated them in the recent war.
“We’re both glad to be running the old places again,” the balding one said, “Aren’t we Armand?”
“Very, Chang. General, I’m glad to meet you face to face. I’m even more glad for your orders. I have been telling President Romali that a soldier’s weapon isn’t really his until he’s used it and used it often. It’s penny wise and pound foolish to hire a soldier and then not let him practice his trade.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Ray said. “So how come you can’t provide me the ammo you promised and at the price you promised?”
The two men exchanged embarrassed glances.
“Well,” Chang said, “we got this rush order from a fellow who just pulled into port and needs to get back to his colony. Seems they’re worried about pirate raids and really needed the ammo bad. Since he was leaving real soon and our army is here and not going any place, we kind of figured we’d meet his schedule and meet yours by working two shifts. But that means more expenses, so the ammo costs more.”
The guy finished, and seemed much relieved to have spat it out. The both of them looked relieved to have said their peace.
“A contract’s a contract,” Rita said, and looked ready to wale full business on them.
“Hold on, honey,” Ray said, something gnawing at the back of his mind that he didn’t much care for. “Who was this colonial who was in such a hurry?”
“Guy with a strange name,” Chang said, rubbing nervously at his bald pate. “Constantinople Odinkaka, or something like that.”
“Constantine Odinkalu,” Armand said, checking his wrist unit.
“Yeah, that’s right. Conny for short, he told us to call him.”
“And what was his ship that was in such an all fire hurry?” Rita asked, not catching the scent that was bothering Ray so much.
“The, ah, what was it?” Chang said.
“The Brannigan’s Special Ale, out of New Jerusalem,” Armand said.
“A ship named after a drink out of New Jerusalem?” Becky, the acting ambassador asked incredulously.
“He told me it was New Jerusalem,” Armand insisted.
Chang got a pained look on his face. “I thought he said it was out of New Eden?”
Rita hit her commlink. “XO, give me a check on a ship named the Brannigan’s Special Ale. It may be out of either New Jerusalem or New Eden.”
“An ale ship out of Jerusalem?” came back with the usual ration of disbelief.
“Just tell me about it,” Rita said, “Oh, and its last port of departure.”
There was only a moment’s pause before the XO was back. “I got a Brannigan’s Special Ale out of New Eden. Its last port of departure was New Hebrides, skipper.”
For a moment, both Rita and Ray stared at the overhead before they both said, “That’s on the other side of human space.”
“And a long way from here,” Rita added.
“You telling me we just sold two hundred tons of ammo, mortar rounds, and grenades to a false flag?” Armand said.
“Didn’t you check it out?” Becky demanded.
“Yeah.” “Kind of,” were the two answers.
“Did the check clear?” Rita said, sarcasm rampant.
The guys made a matching pair of pained expressions. “They paid in gold,” Armand said.
“Gold nuggets,” Chang added. “Pure gold. I had mine already melted down. Pure gold.”
“They’re paying for ammunition with gold nuggets?” Becky said, eyeing Rita and Ray with more dismay than curiosity.
Ray rubbed his face. It had been a long day and it looked to be an even longer night. “What else did this Special Ale barge take on? Two hundred tons of ammo is no big load.”
“XO, get in touch with the port captain. Wha
t other cargo did the BSA take on?”
“I was already working that end of the problem, skipper. He says they cross-loaded ten thousand tons of canned meats, as well as olive oil, flour, corn and beans. There was also nearly five thousand tons of whiskies and rum.”
Ray eyed Rita. “What colony can afford to pay for ten thousand tons of canned meat and half that much of hard alcohol? I think we’ve found where our pirates have been. Somewhere out there a gold rush is going on.”
“But what kind of gold mining needs two hundred tons of small arms munitions?” Rita shot back.
“Oh, shit,” Ray said.
In present company, there was no way he’d mention the alien problem. The two munitions men eyed them dumbly. The way Becky’s eyes grew wide told Ray he was keeping nothing back from that woman.
“Downstairs. Now.” Becky snapped.
A few moments later, Ray found himself sharing the tight confines of the embassy’s secure room with two beautiful women. He saw that his wife was seated first, then arranged his chair at her elbow.
Across from them, Becky spoke first. “I know about the missing ships and the likelihood that the deep search exploration ships have fallen prey to aliens. Do you think this gold came from an alien treasure chest and the ammo is meant to keep it flowing?”
“I don’t know anything,” Ray said, “but I sure know I’m scared that you’re more right than wrong.”
“Yeah,” Rita said.
“So, what do we do about it?” Becky said.
Rita tapped her commlink. It didn’t work. She eyed Becky, who was up from her chair and ducking her head out the no-longer locked door. She said a few words, then glanced back in the room. “Try your call again.”
A moment later, Rita was talking to her XO. “Is the Brannigan’s Special Ale still docked at the station?”
“No ma’am. It’s nearing Delta Jump out of here. I’m told Delta isn’t used that much. It goes out beyond the rim.”
“XO, prepare to get underway. As soon as I can get back aboard, I want us away from the pier. Alert the rest of the squadron. Tell them the same. Oh, and tell Captain Umboto that she and the Patton are invited along if she can get that building of hers away from the pier. Oh, and dispatch the same message to the Northampton. She can chase us down whenever she gets the message.”
“I’m on it, skipper. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got a lot of work to do,” and the XO clicked off.
Ray was only dimly aware of his wife’s conversation. He’d used the time to make his own call. “Trouble, I need my battalion of Guard back. We’re heading out.”
“General, I’m mighty sorry, but your Guard battalion is out on night maneuvers with my worst regiment. I can wait until they show up at first light, or I can try and chase them down and maybe get them all back together by noon tomorrow.”
“I need a battalion, Trouble,”
“I got a good one. First of the first, Savannah’s best.”
“Get them moving up to the station and aboard ship within the hour.
“Boots and saddles,” Trouble shouted to someone off net and also clicked off.
“Are you going looking for a fight?” Becky asked.
“I’m not going looking for anything,” Ray said, “but I am loading up to handle any cranky bear I end up rousing out of bed.”
“I’m going, too. There’s got to be some adult supervision for you eager-to-blow-shit-up types.”
“We’re not eager, but cautious,” Ray said. “And ready.”
“If you really are heading out where there may be pirates, aliens, dragons, or who knows what, I’m going, too.
“Pack your cast iron underwear,” Rita said. “You’re going to need it at high gee.”
22
Acting Captain Constantine Odinkatu breathed a sigh of relief as the newly repapered Brannigan’s Special Ale got away from the station with over twenty thousand tons of food and drink. He wished he had more ammunition to show for his trip, but he likely had every bullet that wasn’t in the actual possession of the new Savannah Army.
Beside him, Captain Grace O’Malley drummed the fingers of her good hand on the arm of the command chair she sat in. After all, he was only an acting pirate captain.
She was the real thing.
“Well, we got out of that cat convention,” she muttered.
“I thought all was lost when those cruisers from Wardhaven showed up,” Conny admitted.
“And you’d have run for the jump with your gold handed out and your ship empty,” she reminded him.
He made no reply. After all, she was the real pirate, he was just a front man, at best. At worst? Well, he didn’t want to go there again.
The cruise for Delta Jump went smoothly. Grace O’Malley kept the main screen split in half. One side looked at the jump ahead. The other side showed the space station behind.
For the longest time, neither showed any change.
“Skipper, there’s a lot of shuttle activity at the station,” the woman on sensors, loaned from Grace’s Happy Highway Wench, reported when they were still hours away from the jump.
“Two-way?” Grace asked.
“No, skipper. Most of it’s from the planet to the station.”
“That’s not good. Reactor, can you get us more than this .9 gee?”
“I can, skipper, but I can’t tell you for how long. These engines are not in the best of shape.”
“Well, stand by. Once we go through the jump, I want anything extra you can give me.”
“I’ll get ready for it, Captain.”
“See that you do,” Grace muttered, but only after she’d killed her commlink.
“Maybe all that activity at the station has nothing to do with us.” Conny said.
“And maybe pigs will learn to fly, me bucko,” Grace said. “If I’ve learned anything since we let that crazy Billy Maynard talk us into this, it’s that we need to thank God that there are two kinds of luck. Good luck and bad luck, cause without bad luck, we wouldn’t have any at all.”
“Is it that bad on the gold planet?” Conny asked. Grace had been reticent about what had happened out there.
Her quiet had been scary enough.
Her talking was getting Conny really scared.
“We told you we needed more ammo, Conny, didn’t we? We risked taking this tub back to Savannah, didn’t we? Of course it’s a fucking mess.”
Conny distanced himself from the pirate captain. He tried to stay away from the pirates when they were drunk or mad. From the smell of Grace’s breath, she was both.
They were on final approach to the jump when sensors announced, “Ships are pulling away from the station. Two, three, four, five.”
“Five!” Grace said.
“Five. All four of the Wardhaven ships and that Society cruiser that had been tied up to the pier so long that they were threatening to give it a street number.”
“Oh, shit,” Grace said.
They edged through the jump.
“Reactors, I need all you got,” Grace half-shouted. “The next jump isn’t all that far away. With luck, we can make it through it before they show up. Let them eat vacuum.”
The bridge crew gave the pirate skipper a nervous cheer.
23
Major General Ray Longknife watched his wife as she slowly took the Astute through the jump. The jump went smoothly.
There was no ship in the system.
Slowly, more ships joined the Astute. All three of her sister ships were followed by the Patton. That all four of the Astutes were here was something of a major miracle.
“Dan, I thought you told me the Artful had a bum magnetohydrodynamic track,” Rita had responded when Dan reported his ship ready to answer all bells.
“One’s bad. But the other two are just fine. Guns and Engineering both swear they can take it apart and put it back together before we get in a fight.”
“I don’t know when we’ll get in a fight, if ever. How come your Guns thinks she kno
ws?”
“You know what I mean,” Dan Taussig said.
“I know what you want,” Rita answered. “You be careful. You’re ready to make full speed?”
“Any time you order it.”
Some fools were way too eager, Ray thought.
But he couldn’t complain. He had his own eager beavers to deal with. The 1st of the 1st, Savannah Light Infantry, marched aboard with a will, right behind their brigadier, Trouble.
“What are you doing here, old man?” Ray demanded.
“What kind of a question is that, coming from a toothless old carcass like you?”
They exchanged salutes and Ray told Trouble he had room for one company on each cruiser. Trouble turned to the commander of the battalion and ordered him to distribute his men.
“Why are you really here?” Ray asked when they were alone.
“They’re green, Ray,” Trouble said. “They’ll shake down well, but they worship the ground you walk on, old man. I figured they could use someone between them and that warrior god.”
Ray had listened to his erstwhile subordinate, not sure how to take to the man Trouble was reflecting back at him. He didn’t think he was rough on green troops.
Then again, it had been a while since he’d had to break in a fresh bunch from top to bottom.
And he hadn’t brought all that much of the 2nd Guard Brigade back from that nameless rock.
Ray shrugged, it would be good to have another general to share some jokes with, even if he wasn’t sure how he’d take to having his commands filtered through some bleeding heart Earthy scum who’d kicked his butt the last time they’d met across a battlefield.
“Jump,” Rita snapped, “how many jumps out of here?”
“Three, skipper, but only one that that skunk could have ducked out of in the time they had, assuming they didn’t ratchet that wreck up to two gees.”
“Then, jump! Give me a course for the nearest jump.”
“Helm, here, I have a course.”
“Take us there, Helm.”
“On our way at one gee, Captain.”
“Make it 1.25 gees, helm.”
Rita Longknife--Enemy in Sight Page 10