Carson Mach 1: The Atlantis Ship

by A. C. Hadfield

  “I’ve sold arms to the orcus before,” Sanchez said. “Nasty bunch.”

  The master-builder nodded. “You understand my predicament. If you bring me four dextans of fusion crystals, the ship is yours.”

  Mach did a quick conversion in his head. Roughly two kilos’ worth. That was enough fusion crystals to power ten destroyers and a couple of weeks rock-blasting for their small team, if they could find the right tools. “We haven’t got time to go working in one of your pits.”

  “An armed convoy transfers crystals from the mine to the orcus building in zone six every evening. Most get immediately distributed to the Axis or the CW contracts. That gives you two options. I know who you are, Mach, and you, Sanchez, but I don’t know the old man or his little creature.”

  “His name’s Squid,” Babcock said. “My identity is irrelevant.”

  “You’ve priced us out of the Jaguar on purpose,” Sanchez said. He tensed and balled his fists. “You’re using us to—”

  “Easy there, Sanchez,” Mach said. He didn’t want to lose the chance of getting his hands on the Jaguar. “We’ll bring you the crystals if your team give half of my crew a crash course?”

  “I’ll give the crash course once you have delivered. My resources are limited and we have multiple projects ongoing.”

  Mach shook his head. “No deal. We’re risking our lives to keep your shipyard going. Do the crash course and we’ll complete the mission.”

  The master-builder waved his chubby fingers toward the door. “You can leave. I’m not worried about getting a good price for my ship.”

  “But the crystals and your future production?”

  The master-builder paused and his soft green face scrunched. He pressed the button on his desk and the office door punched open. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  “Excellent. I’ll need three atmosphere suits.” Mach understood the motivation behind the request. He didn’t fully understand the sticky politics on Feronia, but knew enough that the master-builder would be keeping his hands clean by using outside assistance. If the heist went wrong, they’d be accused of being pirates.

  Getting the crystals would take careful planning.

  The orcus’ ruthless reputation spread way beyond the Feronia system.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mach slung an atmosphere suit over his shoulder, provided by the master-builder, and crossed the landing strip. Babcock and Sanchez followed with two more spares.

  His pulse quickened through a mix of the thought of owning the Jaguar and trudging under the oppressive afternoon sun that baked the top of his head. The team split was a straightforward decision. Babcock and the two JPs would take a crash course on the controls and engineering deck. Sanchez and Adira, the two most capable in a fight, would join him for the heist.

  The rep inspecting the Phalanx-E stood outside it and tapped on his pad while looking at the asteroid damage on the side. Black dints and scrapes peppered the heavy armor.

  “You can drop your little game,” Mach said. “Speak to your boss.”

  The feronian jobsworth ignored him and continued to survey the outer structure. Mach continued inside and dumped the suit behind the cockpit.

  Adira shook her head and smiled. “It’s never straightforward with you, is it?”

  “We’ve got our hands on a badass ship. But there’s a catch. We need to complete a little mission to seal the deal.”

  “A little mission?” Adira said and cocked her right eyebrow.

  “I’ll explain in a moment.”

  Sanchez and Babcock dumped their suits. Both JPs glanced down at them and back to Mach.

  “What do you want us to do?” Lassea asked.

  “You two and Babcock are going to take a crash course on the Jaguar Mk1. Which, with some luck, will be our new ship.”

  Danick sat forward and clasped his hands together. “What kind of spec is it?”

  “Two-point-five APD and fifty-five HPL,” Mach said, pleased that something had at last got the young JPs’ juices flowing. “It’s armed to the teeth and being prepared for you at this very moment.”

  “Wow,” Lassea said. “That’s as good as anything in the CWDF, but we’re not qualified to pilot it.”

  “Are you willing to learn the ropes?” Both JPs nodded. “You’re qualified in the Carson Mach school of flying. Congratulations.”

  “Suit up and come with Squid and I,” Babcock said. “I’ll provide assistance, after I’ve looked around the engineering deck.”

  Danick and Lassea sprang from their seats, like two children having Christmas presents revealed to them for the first time. Some old customs were still celebrated in the Salus Sphere, but had no deeper relevance than a day off and the exchanging of gifts.

  The JPs suited up and left with Babcock.

  “So what’s the plan?” Adira said.

  “We need to get our hands on some fusion crystals. The orcus control the supply and transfer it from the mine to the compound on the edge of the city every evening.”

  “We’re holding up an orcus convoy?” Adira frowned. “We haven’t got any weapons.”

  “I’ve got in touch with an old contact and we’re meeting him in twenty minutes,” Sanchez said, before giving one of his sly grins. “It’s an orcus gang member. He’s trading us three SamCore Vipers.”

  “Vipers!” Adira said. “The CW dumped them when my grandfather served in the war.”

  “They’re the most reliable weapon SamCore have ever produced,” Sanchez said.

  Mach patted him on the shoulder. “Nice work. Let’s scout their building and the route from the mine. We’ll take the easiest option.”

  “Are you expecting any easy option?” Adira asked.

  “No, but the alternative is leaving in this twisted bucket of crap.”

  ***

  Adira dressed in an atmosphere suit and they headed for the meeting. Mach knew if they were to bring down the Atlantis ship, the Jaguar gave them the most realistic chance.

  Going up against the destroyer of an orbital station in a beat-up E-class was suicide. And perhaps Morgan knew that. It’d sure be an easy way of getting rid of Mach and the others. Friends or not, Mach knew he’d made Morgan’s life difficult over the years.

  Sanchez led them between the hangars and warehouses. Feronians floated between buildings on anti-g platforms, transferring crates of supplies. Two white armored vehicles, emblazoned with the star-shaped Feronia logo on the side, rumbled past on their chunky black tracks. They were local militia, paid by the feronian council but probably in the pockets of the orcus.

  “Do you know the orcus’ strength?” Mach asked.

  Sanchez rubbed his stubbly chin. “Most of the grunts supervise in the mines. They run a few rackets in the city, but it’s hard to tell who is affiliated. I’ve got a couple of contacts and supplied them horan carbines last year.”

  “Leave it to the expert,” Adira said. “I carried out a hit here a couple of years ago. The compound’s gonna be a tough job.”

  Sanchez grunted. “A hit’s not exactly the same as robbing a gang.”

  “Whatever,” Mach said, stopping their conversation before it ended up becoming a scar-comparing contest. “We’ll scout the two locations and come to a decision.”

  They trekked away from the shipyard and crossed over the peninsula separating it from the main city. At the top of the hill, Mach shielded his eyes and scanned a snaking track that led through a shallow, sparse rocky valley to the distant mountains. Plenty of places to mount an ambush, but they didn’t know the level of protection the convoy had.

  The city lay directly ahead, hugging five miles of coastline. Like the warehouses behind the hangars, it was designed in a grid system. Eight long streets extended along the full length, crossed by others at regularly spaced intervals.

  Mach remembered visiting the city for the first time, thinking the square white buildings had a boring look. It turned out not to be the case. During the evening, the central s
treets turned into a sea of seedy activity. Feronian prostitutes prowled outside the bars; visiting species from the CW and the Axis drank inside and took part in high-stakes gambling.

  Sanchez checked his smart-screen. “He’s waiting for us behind the Nebula Club. That’s a street away from their stronghold.”

  “Perfect,” Adira said. “Grab as much intel as you can.”

  The club had a familiar-sounding name, but Mach couldn’t remember if he’d been in it before. He woke up in his old ship after a night out a few years ago, with a blank memory, black eye and eighty thousand eros knocked off his balance.

  At the bottom of the gently sloping paved hill, leading from the peninsula to the city, Sanchez headed right and ducked down an alley between two filthy white buildings. Both had dull black power units attached to their sides. It provided the home management system for feronians. Electricity, communications, and the strange virtual reality games they played that were supposed to assist them with their work.

  Mach let Adira go ahead and noticed the outline of her knife’s handle in the thigh pocket of her suit.

  The alley led to a thirty-meter-wide pod park, just off a main street that ran through the city. A feronian, dressed in a tight brown bodysuit, stood next to a dusty black hover bike, under the shade provided by the back of the Nebula Club’s block wall. He acknowledged Sanchez with a nod.

  “Tarkun, how long’s it been?” Sanchez said, turning on his best gunrunner’s charm. “Not using your exo nowadays?”

  “It’s back at the mine,” Tarkun said and looked around Sanchez as Mach and Adira approached. “Who are they?”

  “Two of the crew. We’re staying here tonight for a bit of fun. What time do you finish work?”

  “I’m not sure I want to be in a bar with you, Sanchez.”

  The big hunter laughed. “Oh, come on. Once I’m back on my feet, I’ll bring you some vestan lasers. Just a couple of drinks for old time’s sake?”

  “Very well. I’ll be back with the convoy before sunset. They’ll probably join me. Tell your friends to keep their mouths shut unless they’re asked a question.”

  “The entire group?” Sanchez said and puffed his cheeks. “There’s not enough room to swing a snake in the Nebula.”

  “There’s only five of us. You can buy the drinks.”

  “Sounds good to me. Let’s get our business out of the way. I want to stash them on our ship before the militia start sniffing around.”

  “You won’t get any trouble from them,” Tarkun said, and nodded toward the main road. A feronian in a leathery royal blue uniform stood by the side of it and rolled an electric bat in his hand.

  Tarkun flipped open a compartment at the back of his hover bike and pulled out a long gray bag. He unfastened it and showed three antique SamCore Vipers. Stun weapons that ceased to be produced seven decades ago. Mach had used a couple before; they were reliable old beasts.

  “They’re charged and ready to go,” Tarkun said. “Ten thousand eros.”

  Sanchez waved Mach forward. He configured the amount on his smart-screen and held his wrist against Tarkun’s. The exchange confirmed with a soft electronic bleep.

  Mach tucked the bag under his arm. “Pleasure doing business.”

  Tarkun turned to Sanchez and pointed a spindly finger in Mach’s direction. “Don’t bring this one tonight. There’s something about him I don’t like.”

  “He won’t be at the bar,” Sanchez said. “You can trust me on that.”

  The feronian straddled his hover bike and fired up its engines to a whine. The bike gently lifted a meter into the air and drifted toward the main road. Dust and small stones sprayed across the ground in its hot wake.

  “If these are your friends,” Adira said, “I’d hate to see your enemies.”

  “He’s gonna be my enemy soon enough,” Sanchez said. “Five on the convoy shouldn’t be too much trouble if we find a decent place on the trail.”

  “Agreed,” Mach said. “Let’s take a quick scan of the compound.”

  Adira shook her head. “If it’s anything like the last time I checked it out, we’ll be facing at least twenty armed feronians.”

  “She’s right,” Sanchez said. “The numbers have swung it.”

  Mach shielded his brow and checked local time on his smart-screen. The sun had dipped in the sky since he last checked, meaning they only had a couple of hours to find a suitable position for the crystal heist.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mach crouched on top of the peninsula’s hill, positioned between the shipyard and the city, and surveyed inland. The trail to the mine at the bottom of the mountain had been quiet for the last ten minutes.

  Sanchez had stripped and reassembled each of the Vipers, ensuring their serviceability.

  Adira stood by Mach’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder. She pointed at a cluster of rocks on the trail, at the mouth of a shallow valley that led toward the city. “That’s where we should do it. One of us provides covering fire from height. The other two take the convoy down from ground level.”

  The plan was solid enough. They would never know what kind of weapons they were facing until they sprang the ambush, but the one-shot deal to secure the Jaguar was good enough to take the risk.

  Mach decided to check on the other group’s progress. He keyed Babcock on his smart-screen and raised it to his mouth. “Babcock, how are things going on your end?”

  “Like a dream. You’ll love it. They’ve opened the hangar roof for takeoff, and the JPs are being taken through the controls.”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary for us to worry about?”

  “Nope. The engineers here know about your mission and they’re buzzing. It means they’re all in work for another year. All seems legit.”

  “Be ready to go around sunset. If we don’t return after dark, get back to the Phalanx-E and head for the nearest space port.”

  “I know you well enough, Mach. See you in an hour.”

  Sanchez placed the Vipers back in the gray bag and shouldered it. Keeping the weapons concealed was the best approach. Two humans and a fidian walking along the trail to the mine and armed with Vipers would set off alarm bells. As it was, they were just a crew having a stroll out of the city. Nothing out of the ordinary for people who landed and didn’t want to sample Feronia Prime’s delights.

  Adira led the way down a dusty thin path, surrounded by wiry brown shrubs. The sun’s heat weakened as it dipped toward the sea, casting long shadows across the ground. Mach wondered why they only had five people in the convoy. The only logical conclusion was that most people wouldn’t have the balls to rob the orcus on their home world. After years of having the freedom of the city, their guard had dropped.

  “Do we kill after we stun?” Adira said, jumping straight to an obvious practical problem. They would be hunted down if any of the gang lived to tell the tale. Mach didn’t like cutting off access to planets in the Salus Sphere, or killing for no reason, so stunning would do the job.

  “Stun and move quick,” Mach said. “They’ll contact others and they’ll be straight on top of us.”

  “Agreed,” Sanchez said. “We can pay back a holdup if we complete our mission. They’ve got plenty more crystals in the mine. They won’t forgive us for killing their crew.”

  “Screw them,” Adira said. “They’re jumped-up pirates and smugglers. I’m never coming back to this hellhole.”

  Mach could see both points of view, but they had to have a clear strategy, but he refused to kill anybody in cold blood. The orcus wouldn’t think twice about killing them, but the plan was to not give them a chance.

  “I’m leaving on the Jaguar,” Mach said. “As much as I hate to say it, Adira, we’re taking the soft approach.”

  Adira shook her head and kicked a stone along the path.

  Mach understood that it probably railed against her killer instinct, but once they captured the Atlantis ship, Adira could forget that life.

  At the bottom of the
path, they joined the trail toward the mountains. The brown dirt valley rose twenty meters either side of them. Nothing came in either direction and they reached the rocks after two minutes. Sanchez handed out the Vipers.

  Twice as heavy as the new graphene models, Mach thought. He shouldered it, flicked on the electronic scope and peered through it. The rifle automatically focused on moving objects: great for hunting single creatures, but confusing in a firefight. He switched it back to manual.

  “I’ll take the top,” Adira said.

  She scrambled up the small hill and nestled between two boulders in the prone firing position. Sanchez edged behind a pile of rocks and dropped to one knee. Mach ducked alongside him. Carrying out moves like this always took him back to the old days on Fides Prime, carrying out military exercises in the sweltering jungle. All CWDF destroyer crew had to learn basic soldiering before the boring technical lectures began.

  The white streaky cirrus in the sky took on a pink tinge as the sun continued to lower. Natural light began to fade, but they still had a good level of visibility, and the Viper had a night-sight option.

  “Something’s coming,” Adira said.

  Mach craned his neck around the pile of rocks. Two black vehicles snaked around the trail, leaving a cloud of dust behind. Two-track trucks with open cabins. At least the five orcus hadn’t come on hover bikes. That would’ve made things a lot harder if the one carrying the crystals split, and the others fired their mini laser cannons.

  The gruff engine noise and the monotonous cranking of the tracks grew louder.

  “Two TTs. Fire at the front cabin. I’ll take the rear one,” Mach said.

  Sanchez nodded and slipped his finger around the trigger. “You got it.”

  Tracks crunched over loose stones only thirty meters away. A single headlight stabbed out of the front of the lead vehicle, brightening the increasingly gloomy valley. Mach glanced back at Adira. She aimed down, ready to fire.