Omega Force 6: Secret of the Phoenix

by Joshua Dalzelle

  “It’s possible Rorid had hired another mercenary outfit to protect him,” Kellea offered.

  “Maybe,” Jason said doubtfully. “Strange time to make an appearance though.”

  “Well either way, thank you for agreeing to help with this mission,” she said. “Our shuttle pilots are capable, but having you guys along was a nice bit of insurance.”

  “It was interesting being part of an organized military op again,” Jason said. “It’s not normally something we would volunteer for.”

  “So why did you volunteer for this one?” Kellea asked.

  “It was the first live mission for Mazer and his Marines,” Jason said. “I feel a certain responsibility for them and wanted to be there in case it didn’t go as planned.” He took a sip of the expensive, rare whiskey-style drink she’d handed him before he realized his error. “Of course, the main reason was so I could spend some time with you.”

  “Nice save,” Kellea said drily. “So what’s your opinion of their performance?”

  “Lucky tells me that they operated like they’ve been doing this sort of thing for years. I suppose technically they have been doing this their whole lives, but there are some distinct differences between life in the Legions and serving shipboard as a detachment. How have they integrated into the Defiant?”

  “They’re the epitome of courtesy when they’re around the rest of the crew. The rowdiness I expected seems to be reserved for when they’re in their own barracks. Oh … and they play that music you gave them from your homeworld at almost unsafe volumes while they’re training or exercising.”

  “Giving Mazer that data chip full of heavy metal music was my special gift to you,” Jason said with a wide smile that earned him an elbow in the ribs.

  “Have you ever thought about coming fully into the fold? Reporting to Crisstof and bringing the Phoenix aboard as a permanent arrangement?” she asked after a moment.

  “Well … that’s certainly a thing to think about,” Jason said carefully.

  “Please … try to contain your excitement.”

  “Let’s look at it seriously, Kellea,” he said, aware he was on dangerous ground. “A lot of what makes us useful is we’re not a part of his organization and can operate in that gray area he’s hesitant to tread on. There’s also the fact that even though you command a large professional crew on a battlecruiser, and I command a small group of borderline sociopaths on a tiny gunship, we’re more or less equals when we meet. With what you’re suggesting I would be subordinate to you. In fact, far subordinate since I would likely report to your tactical officer and not even to you directly.”

  “I wasn’t making a serious suggestion, I suppose,” she said with a sigh, leaning her head onto his shoulder. “It’s just frustrating at times.”

  “I agree,” Jason said. “But look at it this way: would you really want my crew loose on your ship for any length of time?”

  Kellea gave an involuntary shudder as she considered the havoc the small crew could wreak given an extended amount of time. “That’s a truly frightening proposition,” she said.

  “They’re not joiners,” Jason agreed. “They’d make your life a living hell just for the fun of it.”

  “So what’s next for you guys?”

  “Back to the usual, I guess. We’ll start running along the fringe and see what we can kick up,” Jason answered.

  “So nothing pressing?”

  “Nothing pressing.”

  “That means you can stay for a while?” she said, turning to look at him.

  “I’m sure the ship needs at least a week of maintenance and repairs after that last mission,” Jason said, setting his drink down and drawing her in closer for a kiss.

  Chapter 4

  “Nine days on that ship? What was taking so long?” Crusher said accusingly to Twingo as the Phoenix veered away from the Defiant and began accelerating towards their mesh-out point.

  “Don’t look at me,” Twingo said. “Ask the captain why he wanted every major inspection and calibration done while we were on the Defiant.”

  “Well?” Crusher demanded.

  “Do you seriously have to ask?” Kage said, cutting off Jason before he could answer. Crusher opened his mouth to speak, paused as he considered the question, and then his eyes widened as the realization dawned on him.

  “Ah! So we had to spend over a week on that sterile ship with that stuffy crew just so you could get—”

  “Look,” Jason said sharply, interrupting a conversation that would quickly get completely out of control and last for at least an hour and be completely at his expense. “We’ve got all our major depot level items knocked out and we’re topped off with fuel and the treasury is loaded with credits. I’m not sure what you’re all complaining about.”

  “The novelty of the mess deck wears off after a few days,” Kage said. “Not only that, but her crew is so straight-laced that trying to organize a few friendly games of chance were next to impossible.”

  “To be fair, I’m sure she’s glad to be rid of us too,” Jason said. “Specifically, glad to be rid of you two.” He pointed at Kage and Crusher to emphasize his point.

  “Me?”

  “What the hell did I do?”

  “You want me to list everything?” Jason asked. “Crusher, you verbally assaulted more than a dozen crewmembers during our stay and actually physically assaulted another three—”

  “That was training.”

  “—and Kage, you tried to set up an underground gambling ring, something that’s against ship’s policy on the Defiant by the way, and then when some of the crew owed you money you tried to enlist Crusher and Lucky as your enforcers.”

  “I didn’t know it was against the rules,” Kage protested, raising his hands up in defense. “I didn’t force any of them to the table.”

  “Never mind,” Jason said wearily. “How long until we hit our first waypoint?”

  “Yeema-3 is six days away given our current flight plan,” Kage said, happy to drop the subject of his misconduct.

  “Why did we pick that place again?” Jason asked. He’d left the loose details of their course and destination to Doc and Kage while he’d been spending time with Kellea. He was now more than a little concerned that decision was going to bite him in the ass, and hard.

  “It’s a prospector colony world,” Doc said. “There’s some light industrialization to support the ore mines, but it’s mostly a deserted rock with a few spaceports scattered across it. But, it’s also in a location that sees a surprising amount of commercial traffic from the nearby logistics stations. Yeema has a large refugee contingent and there seems to be no shortage of postings requesting help from anybody willing to fly out there.

  “We had a hit on one of our dummy drop boxes asking for help from someone with a fast ship. Even though it was text only, there was a definite desperation in the message. It seems like she may have gotten herself into some local trouble.”

  “It’s as good a place to start as any, I guess,” Jason said. “I’d rather not get bogged down with too many requests for passenger flights off the planet if we can help it, so let’s try and vet her before we get there. Message back with a confirmation code and then cross reference any information you can get on her with the Defiant.”

  ****

  Yeema-3 was everything Jason had come to expect from a barely habitable colony world. Most of the choice planets had long since been colonized, industrialized, and absorbed into one government or another. The non-habitable planets with desirable orbit, day-length, and gravity were mostly terraformed already and thriving. But terraforming is an astronomically expensive and complicated process, so these worlds had all been carefully planned and spoken for before the first wisps of atmosphere began streaming out of the processors.

  After all the best worlds had been taken, or made, the only thing left for someone wanting to escape the heavily populated core worlds, or try and strike it rich on the frontier, were the undesirable planets like
Yeema-3. The climates were either far too hot or far too cold, the gravity was sometimes too light or too heavy, and on more than a few of them the orbit was such that only one side of the planet ever faced the primary star.

  As the Phoenix flared and touched down on the hard-packed dirt, kicking up an enormous dust cloud as she did, Jason could tell this was going to be an unpleasant trip. The sensors were reading the ambient temperature as nearly fifty-two degrees Celsius and just looking out the canopy he could tell the moisture content was almost non-existent.

  “This looks lovely,” Twingo said sarcastically as he stood and looked out the canopy. “Why didn’t we land at the spaceport on the other side of the planet? You know, the one with tarmac and not a dirt landing pad?”

  “This is where our contact is,” Doc said. “She couldn’t take the lev-rail to the other city.”

  “She couldn’t afford a train ticket … so how the hell is she going to pay us?” Kage demanded.

  “Did I say she couldn’t afford a ticket? I said she couldn’t take the train,” Doc said, pushing back on the Veran. “She has a lot of delicate equipment that can’t be exposed to the EM fields the train produces.”

  “If it’s that sensitive are we sure it can be safely carried in the Phoenix?” Jason asked.

  “I get the impression it’s more a matter of the train being so badly shielded than the equipment being overly sensitive,” Doc explained.

  “Well, I guess we’ll find out,” Jason said with a sigh, eying the swirling dust outside with distaste. “I see a lot of people out there openly armed, so don’t be too shy when you kit up.”

  “How not shy?” Crusher asked.

  “Just use some common sense,” Jason said. “No grenade launchers or anti-vehicle weapons.”

  “Who is going?” Doc asked.

  “You, me, Crusher, and Lucky,” Jason said. “Twingo, I want you and Kage to stay in com contact with us and monitor all the traffic coming and going. Also be ready to scan any cargo we bring aboard.” He paused for a moment, looking at Kage. “What? No complaints about being left behind?”

  “Ah, no … you have fun out there, Captain,” Kage said, watching as dirt pelted the canopy from a sudden gust of wind.

  Half an hour later the rear ramp of the Phoenix lowered to the dirt with a thud. Jason and the others stood back at the lip of the cargo bay where the electrostatic barrier was keeping out a lot of the dust. Sighing at the inevitable, he stepped onto the ramp and out into the gusting wind and blowing dirt. He wore a long, black duster that kept him clean, concealed his weapons, and regulated his temperature in the hot environment. All except Lucky wore goggles and a fitted mask over their noses and mouths that kept the blowing filth from getting into their lungs. Even Crusher, almost religiously averse to wearing sleeves, had a similar long coat on and even had a scarf to keep as much of the grime out of his “dreadlocks” as he could.

  The four began the half-mile trek to the settlement that butted up against the primitive spaceport. As one would expect on such an underdeveloped world, not all of the ships coming and going were that advanced and many didn’t use gravimetric drives for atmospheric flight. Every so often the roar of thrusters would shake the ground and an enormous plume of dust and dirt would be kicked up and swept into the wind. Jason tried to ponder what sort of poor life choices would lead to someone actually living on such an aggressively inhospitable planet.

  It took nearly fifteen minutes to cover the short distance and, mercifully, once they were within the town itself the buildings seemed to block the worst effects from the wind. They shook the dirt off themselves and turned to brush the backs of the person next to them. Poor Lucky, however, was beyond help. The electrical charge his systems generated seemed to attract the fine dirt to the point that only his eyes were visible. Crusher and Jason were thankful for the masks that hid their smirks as they tried not to laugh at their miserable-looking friend.

  “It looks like your friend could use some help,” someone called from a nearby vehicle.

  “What would you suggest?” Jason asked, walking over to where the alien stood. He was covered head-to-toe in some type of protective suit so Jason had no idea what species he was.

  “Just stand here,” he said to Lucky. Sensing no malice, the battlesynth moved over and stood where indicated. The alien walked back around carrying a hose with some sort of nozzle attached. Without asking, he squeezed the nozzle and a stream of compressed gas began blasting the dirt off of Lucky. The stranger was extremely thorough and took special care to get all the debris out from around the joints and even covered Lucky’s eyes as he worked around his head.

  “Nitrogen gas … the ionic charge breaks the attraction,” the alien explained. “I usually set up here to help everyone who is bringing cargo off the ships when the weather kicks up like this.”

  “So this isn’t the norm around here?” Jason said, taking the hint and digging out a one hundred credit chit out of his pocket and tossing it to the stranger.

  “Not at all. It only gets this bad a few times a year,” the alien said, snatching the coin out of the air. When he squeezed it to activate the display, he began to hand it back. Jason held up a hand to stop him.

  “Keep it,” he said. “Maybe you can help me a bit more, though. I’m looking for a place called the Mine Bottom. Could you point me in the right direction?”

  “The Mine Bottom is two streets over that way,” the alien said, gesturing behind him, “and three blocks up towards the middle of town. That place has seen better days, to be honest. If you’re looking for a place with cold drinks you might try—”

  “Thanks all the same, friend,” Jason said, not wanting to get into a protracted discussion on the local culture. “It was a place that was recommended to us and it would be rude to not at least check it out.”

  “Suit yourself,” the alien said with a shrug. “Enjoy the rest of the day.”

  “You as well,” Jason said with a nod before leading his crew away from the chatty local.

  “It was fortuitous he was there offering a cleaning service,” Lucky said as they turned onto the street the Mine Bottom should be on. “While it did not affect my operation, the dirt clinging to me was a most unpleasant experience.”

  “I’ll bet,” Crusher said.

  “Doc, how are we supposed to identify our contact?” Jason asked.

  “She said she’d recognize us,” Doc said.

  “That didn’t set off any warning bells in your head?” Jason demanded, suddenly wary. “How the hell is she supposed to know what we look like?”

  “Apparently visitors are exceedingly rare,” Doc shrugged. “It’s not as if we look like office supply salesmen.”

  “Keep sharp, everyone,” Jason said, suddenly very irritated at his friend. “We could be walking into a setup.” He made a mental note to again start checking up on Doc when he was doing anything other than mending an injury. He had assumed the doctor was becoming savvier when it came to the business side of their operation. There was no illusion that Doc would ever be a tactical asset, but Jason had hoped that he would begin to recognize patterns and stop being so blindly trusting. The fact that someone had asked them here and then claimed to know what they would look like without offering an image or description in return should have been an immediate tip off.

  The Mine Bottom had definitely seen better days. Blowing sand and dirt had eroded the paint and had actually worn down the corners of the bricks so that the building appeared to have no sharp edges. The animated sign would occasionally blink off and the windows appeared to not have been cleaned in some time.

  “What a shithole,” Crusher declared.

  “That it is,” Jason agreed. “Let’s do this right. Lucky, you begin scanning as soon as we enter the building. Crusher and I will try and find a table with a wall behind it and then we’ll wait and see if we’ve walked ourselves into a trap. Doc, you call Kage and let him know what’s going on.”

  They walked in throug
h the establishment’s double doors and then through another set of inner doors. The bar was exactly as they’d expected from its appearance on the outside: dark, dirty, and full of unsavory-looking aliens who all turned and stared at the newcomers. One good look at Crusher as he removed his mask and goggles was enough to make them lose interest. Jason led them along the outer perimeter of the room, ignoring everyone he passed and relying on Lucky to warn him if anything was amiss. To look around too much was to appear fearful, to stare too hard was to be challenging, and Jason wanted to simply blend in. The best way to do that was to appear indifferent.

  The table they located was about as good as they could hope for. It was a typical round high-top found in almost every bar and was wedged back into a corner where they could observe everyone. In hindsight, Jason should have realized there was a reason nobody had been sitting here. He also liked the height of the table, allowing them to move quickly if needed without having to climb up out of a seat that was low to the ground.

  After sitting for nearly fifteen minutes, nobody had come by to take their order, which was just as well with Jason. They weren’t there to drink and he was skeptical of the cleanliness of the place. They got some odd looks from patrons, but nobody seemed to be paying them any special attention.

  “How do we know she’s even going to be in here anytime soon?” Jason asked, not for the first time.

  “I sent the confirmation signal when we landed. She said it wouldn’t take her long to get here after that and she would be able to recognize us,” Doc said.

  “We’ll wait for another fifteen minutes and then head back to the ship,” Jason said. “Much longer than that and people are going to start wondering why we’re just sitting here.”

  “It would help if someone stopped by to take our order,” Crusher grumbled. “You know, just for appearances.”

  “Of course,” Jason said, watching the crowd casually.