Dark Ice (Mercenaries Book 2)

by A. R. Knight

  "Sorry," Viola replied.

  "No apologies. Let's just get it done," Davin said.

  Viola set herself. Davin was right. This wasn't a simulator, wasn't the landing on Europa, when the autopilot and the android, Fournine, handled most of the flying. Viola eased back on the stick and the shuttle settled itself into an entry vector that wouldn't skip it off the atmosphere or turn the craft into an exploding fireball. She activated the shields. Time to intercept with the Karat; thirty minutes.

  "We're about to go blind," Viola said as the cockpit's heat shield slid over the glass. For the next few minutes, the shuttle followed the programmed path to the Karat while the reentry friction burned outside.

  "Been a while since I've been in the oven," Davin said, keeping his eyes on the meters showing external temp, wind resistance, and more signs that could spell destruction for their craft. "Don't land the Jumper in real atmosphere much."

  "I've never done it," Viola admitted. Europa and Ganymede had such light atmospheres they barely made an impact. Compared, they were like falling through air, Neptune would be more like diving into the ocean.

  "Now you know how exciting it is," Davin said. "You two all right back there?"

  "Mox is regretting ever getting in this hellbox, and so am I," Opal yelled back.

  "Hey, give our pilot some encouragement," Davin replied.

  "You're great, Viola, but the heat shielding could use work. We're melting back here!"

  Viola glanced at the readouts and noticed the temp inside the shuttle had risen to over a hundred degrees, but was tapering off. She hadn't even felt the sweat forming on her forehead, the little beads dribbling down the sides of her neck. Too zoned in.

  The central console beeped, showing external temps were lowering as their airspeed reduced and they hit the colder sections of Neptune's atmosphere. Viola retracted the heat shielding and felt the shuttle's temp drop. It went from relief, to refreshing, to making that sweat so, so cold. Viola shivered as the shuttle warmed itself back up, stabilizing at a cool middle.

  Out in front, Viola had her first real look at Neptune. Or, really, the endless blue-gray fog encompassing the planet. She felt a drag in her legs, and Viola's heart sped up, her lungs breathed faster.

  "Neptune's about like Earth in gravity," Puk said. "That's why your vitals are swinging. You should be OK, but it's going to be tiring for a while."

  "Just means you have to work out more," Davin said.

  "You're one to talk, captain," Puk said, buzzing over to him and focusing its camera on Davin's face. "Her heart rate's lower than your's."

  "I'm just excited at the thought of smashing you into a thousand pieces."

  Viola nudged the flight stick to shallow out the descent. The wind resistance was bringing their speed to a point where they should be able to glide their way to the Karat. The more fuel saved, the less likely they'd have to rely on the Karat to get them out of here.

  "I can tell when I'm not wanted," Puk said, buzzing through the door towards Opal and Mox.

  “Does your bot hold a grudge?” Davin asked.

  "Puk? Nah. At least, I didn't program it to seek revenge," Viola said. “But I suppose that—”

  "Hey, focus. What's that dark smear up there?"

  Davin pointed straight ahead, where a big puffy smudge was growing to fill the distance and dominate the cockpit's view. Flashes popped inside - lightning. Still distant, Viola felt the flight stick pull towards the storm. The wind was getting faster, swirling around the weather and trying to drag the shuttle with it.

  "It's the first of the three storms," Viola said. "If we can loop around this one, we should hit the Karat before passing by the next two."

  "Probably want to start looping, then."

  Right. Viola glanced at the console, but the computer wasn't taking the storm into account, plunging them straight through on their rendezvous route with the Karat. Suppose it was wishful thinking to hope the shuttle had any real weather guidance plugged in.

  "I'm going to have to go manual to get around it," Viola said.

  "Let me know what you need," Davin replied.

  That confidence helped. Viola located the auto-pilot and flicked off the route option. The computer would still try to keep the shuttle stabilized, but wouldn't force it along their path anymore. Viola kept an eye on their airspeed while moving the stick to the right, slanting the shuttle away from the storm. The force of Neptune's speeding air pressed hard against the shuttle, causing the airspeed to plummet and Davin to issue a stream of curses.

  Viola swung the flight stick back the other way and the shuttle caught the wind on its wings like a bird and floated. Only, they were back heading straight into the storm.

  "To go against the wind, we'll have to burn all the fuel," Viola said. "But if we go with it, we'll hit the storm."

  "How about if we swing around it?" Davin said. "Aim for the left edge. Ride the current. Use the momentum to swing to the Karat."

  Viola looked at the approaching mass, like a raging nightclub in the air, the strobe effect a series of million-degree lightning bolts zapping between clouds of gas. What Davin wanted would have been tricky in space, with only the physics to calculate. Here, with swirling winds changing speed and direction from one second to the next, working around the edge would be as likely to send them to the middle of the storm as it would be to get them around. But the alternative was to take the long way, burn up fuel fighting Neptune and potentially leaving them plummeting to the gaseous depths as their tanks wound up empty.

  "If you have a god to pray to, nows the time," Viola said, angling the ship to start Davin's swing.

  12

  Newcomers

  "Captain Gage," Phyla said, standing on the bridge next to the man. Merc, Erick and Trina were back on the Jumper, keeping it safe from any potential saboteurs. "I don't understand. If you don't trust your crew, why aren't you doing anything about it?"

  They'd been tracking the shuttle's descent into Neptune's atmosphere. The bridge divided into halves, with a central walkway leading between six consoles, broken into sets of two. Spread out in front of the large forward-facing window was the bulk of the Amerigo, a great white scar in black space. Gage explained that the color choice eased problem identification. A rift in the pearly painted hull would stand out much over one in a darker hue.

  One other crew member was on the bridge, a man Gage noted as the only one he trusted. A man Gage had brought with him on past missions. Compared to the Gage's Eden uniform, the man wore a strange outfit bearing Eden's corporate branding. A thick shirt, long-sleeved, that bled into gloves that went up to his elbows. It would have been ridiculous on anyone less serious. Put him and Mox together, and Phyla wouldn't know who'd out stone-face the other.

  "Because nobody, outside of yourself and Quinn, know I'm looking for traitors. There hasn't been an armed mutiny yet, and I have no desire to start one."

  "But it will happen eventually," Phyla countered.

  "Anyone planning on turning this ship will do so for the money in our cargo," Gage said, following the shuttle's blip on the command console. "If your man Davin does his job and gets the Karat back, and they see we're no longer defenseless, the plot might end there."

  "So they would stay hidden. You would never know."

  "But we would be alive."

  Phyla took the statement and chewed on it. Leaving unknown knives to stab you in the back was a poor plan, but was it worth the danger to chase them out now?

  "All of them, Captain," Phyla said. "I would risk everyone to find the traitor. Because if they've taken a bribe once, they'll do it again and next time might be worse."

  Now it was Gage's turn to chew.

  "Perhaps, being older, I treat life with more caution than you. The years give me more memories to lose, more people to care for," Gage said. "Though I see your point. There are eight crew members left on board this ship. The minimum to keep it running while the Karat took the rest. If you want to test their
loyalties, take Quinn with you and go."

  "And you?"

  The console next to Gage beeped, a middle-tone that attracted attention, but softer than a danger alert.

  "Do you see that?" Gage pointed to a small white arrow in the top right corner of the console. Representing the area around the ship, the small arrow was at the edge of sensor range, far out beyond Neptune. Compared to the Amerigo, the blip was a tiny fraction. Smaller than the Jumper. That meant limited supplies, fuel. Unlikely to be this far out alone.

  "A scout," Phyla murmured. The bleeding edge of a force sent just far enough ahead to make sure the whole group wasn't speeding right into a trap. Once it communicated an all-clear, it wouldn't be long before the rest arrived.

  "If there is a traitor still on this ship," Gage said. "He'll be acting soon. Good hunting."

  Phyla nodded and walked towards the bridge exit. As she approached, Quinn stepped over in front of her. His face was a granite mask, gray eyes looking at her without inflection. As though she was a blank wall. Or nothing at all. The bodyguard didn't appear to carry a weapon, but those gauntlets were thick, with plenty of padding. Room to hide something.

  "Whereto first?" Phyla asked him.

  "They'll be scattered," Quinn's voice had the scratchy rasp of someone who doesn't talk much. "Gage is going to sound the alarm in a second, sending each one to their positions. We'll hit each one, confirm intentions, and then move on to the next."

  Phyla blinked. She'd expected Quinn to be a mute enforcer, barely more than a smashing post capable of muttering a few words. A second later, as Quinn moved towards the exit, an alarm sounded on the bridge and, presumably, through the freighter.

  "You sound like you've done this before," Phyla said.

  "Everybody has their price," Quinn replied as they moved. "My job is to make the cost too high."

  "Is that the line you give to everyone you meet?"

  Quinn's mouth twitched. A rebellious upturn quickly crushed back into the straight-line mask. So Quinn had a personality.

  "If we were meeting under better circumstances . . .?" Quinn paused, and Phyla realized he didn't know who she was.

  "Phyla."

  "Phyla. Then you might even get to see me laugh," Quinn looked back at Gage, who was watching them, and nodded. "Now, though, we have other things to do."

  "Forces have arrived in the system," Gage's voice came over hidden speakers. "I have every reason to believe they are hostile. Please head to your designated stations and report in when you've arrived."

  Quinn walked out of the bridge and Phyla followed, leaving Captain Gage alone with the consoles, the noise from their alarms filling Phyla's ears until the bridge door shut them into silence.

  13

  Go Time

  The alarm rang throughout the Jumper's bay, a crash of the worst cymbals known to man. Merc jumped a meter, nearly smashing his head on the cockpit's ceiling. He was playing spy, watching the cameras around the Jumper's exterior to keep an eye out for any of the freighter's crew that got a little too close. As the last pilot on the ship, he had to be in the cockpit anyway. Erick and Trina couldn't fly this thing.

  "Merc, prep the Viper," Phyla's voice came over the comm.

  "You'r e coming back?" Merc replied.

  "Can't. Have to see about a traitor."

  "Then who's flying the Jumper?"

  "Up to you to make sure we don't have to."

  "You realize I've got one fighter, right?" Merc said. "Now, I'm good. I'm real good. But without any support out there . . .”

  "If you don't, they'll hit us before we're ready. And then we all die."

  "Or you could come to the Jumper and we get out of here."

  Even as Merc said the words, he knew they were pointless. If they left the Amerigo, then Davin and the others would have nowhere to come back to. They'd be easy pickings coming back out of Neptune's atmosphere. It was this, or nothing.

  "Merc?"

  "I'll do what I can," The pilot said, getting out of the seat and heading through the Jumper towards the Viper's bay. Along the way, Merc commed Trina to come ready the fighter, told Erick to hit the cockpit, and swung by his room to grab his flight suit. The suit was a crimson red, the same shade as the decal for Merc's former squad. The tight fabric tightened by design as Merc put it on, becoming a second skin. Meant to help keep warmth in and reduce the possibilities of an accidental snag in the event of an ejection or spacewalk.

  The attached mask had already saved Merc's life in the space above Europa, capable of slipping on and establishing a vacuum seal in a second if Merc hit the emergency pad below the wrist of either hand. It could buy him a few minutes of life out there. Not that Merc ever wanted to experience that again. Reconciling yourself with death once was enough, thanks.

  Trina had the Viper warming up by the time Merc hit the bay, the batteries charged and ready to go. The mechanic was watching the system readouts on her comm as Merc went past her and climbed the short ladder into the Viper's cockpit.

  "What do we have?" Merc commed Erick.

  "Let's see," The physician answered. "Looks like you have one long range scout vessel, a larger ship that looks very familiar, and a pair of escort fighters."

  "Very familiar?" "If I'm reading this right, it appears to be the same frigate that caught us outside of Europa."

  "What's it doing here?" Merc said, settling into the seat.

  "Would you like me to ask it?"

  "Yeah, if you wouldn't mind," Merc said as the Viper's systems came back showing greens. "How long do I have?"

  "Depends. You sit here and wait for them to shoot, looks like you have an hour. You want to go out and tango, well, you might catch them facing the wrong way." Erick said.

  Any ship speeding to another planet needed to slow itself down as it came near orbit. Sensors wouldn't be able to pick up a target till the ship was close, relatively speaking, which meant these raiding bastards would have to take a few minutes to re-orient and settle into an attack pattern. With a good burst from the engines, Merc could get the Viper close before they finished. He'd buy a few precious seconds of surprise.

  Merc tapped a button on the Viper's sole console, a piece of screen as large as his spread palm. The Viper's three lift jets, one in the nose and a pair back by the engines, bumped the fighter off of the Jumper's floor. Merc moved the flight stick to the right and the fighter rotated, tilting with the motion. The freighter used a lot of power to generate one G, the same as Earth's gravity. The fighter turned with resistance. Not quite the whipping wildness of weightless flight.

  Trina opened the Jumper's door for him, and Merc boosted the fighter out into the larger freighter bay. While the Jumper could hold a magnetic shield up for small windows to launch and land the fighter, the freighter only bothered to close its bay doors in emergencies. As a result, when Merc turned the Viper towards space, the black was haloed by the Amerigo's walls like a square eclipse.

  Another tap of the console and the batteries shifted their thrust to the main engines, pushing the Viper forward. About to dive into combat against overwhelming forces. Opal, meanwhile, was crashing through thick atmosphere in a rickety old shuttle. Who had the worse luck?

  "Focus on the now, buddy." Merc whispered to himself. "That's what she'd be telling you, anyway."

  He glanced at the scanner, even though Merc knew Opal and their shuttle wouldn't be on it. Too hidden by Neptune's roiling atmosphere. What was arrayed on the screen, though, in small and large triangles, were the targets.

  The Viper lurched leaving the Amerigo's gravity, as though ropes tying it down were cast off. Merc took the cue and punched the throttle, angling the Viper away from the freighter and towards what looked, to his naked eyes, like an empty patch of black. Neptune spread out behind Merc, invisible except in his mind. The Sun glowed on Merc's right, a sickly yellow dot so far away.

  "Looks awful lonely out here," Merc said. "Earth was always surrounded by so many lights, so many things going on."r />
  "You getting homesick on me?" Erick replied. "Because I have a remedy for that."

  "For real?"

  "You want it, you'll have to make it back."

  "Thanks, Doc," Merc said.

  The scanner showed the triangles picking up on his presence. Two fighters, the scout, and the big boy. Merc tightened his fingers around the flight stick, exhaled a deep breath. The odds could be worse.

  A slide of a dial sent some of the engine power to the Viper's armor plating, allowing it to channel and dissipate heat. It'd suck up enough lasers until it had nowhere to send the heat to, then the Viper would melt away just like anything else. Lasers were cheap, and cheap to defend against. Merc had to hope that's all these guys were packing. If they showed up with solid slugs, then the Viper would be so much confetti.

  The darkness in front shimmered, as though there was an error in the picture. The bigger ship blocking starlight. Merc's scanner had the fighters a few minutes out. The two small ships coming up first, the scout craft and its frigate partner taking longer to line up their attack. Two on one at the start.

  Much better.

  The Viper's cockpit window popped a pair of light blue squares into view against the backdrop, outlining the fighters. Merc, keeping his right hand on the flight stick, tapped another button on the console that shaded both squares a rose red. Classed as enemies. The Viper fitted a gold outline on the closer one, small numbers showing current speed popping up beneath the enemy ship. Merc still couldn't get a visual, had no idea what these fools were packing, but waiting for them to fire a shot was a poor choice.

  A flick of the stick had the Viper nosing towards the closer fighter. Merc wasn't in range yet, but here's the secret that most flight computers didn't catch. Lasers didn't just wink out after a certain distance. They'd lose potency, sure, but would splash bright flashes across the cockpit window and, in sufficient number, could still cause problems. The enemy fighter was still zipping forward, which meant it would run right into those lasers before it got to Merc. His finger pressed on the trigger and sent a series of beams launching straight off into the dark, right at the center of the red square.