The old man smiled grimly as he came back to the present. Regrets be damned. He placed the cigar in his mouth again.
Chapter 3
Captain Killian O’Hare, master of the pirate vessel Nemesis, leaned back in her command chair and calmly eyed the man on the floating console screen in front of her. Five seconds passed, then ten. She waited and so did the man on the screen. Finally, he could take the silence no longer. He spoke with a tinge of desperation in his voice. “You did hear me, didn’t you?”
“Of course, I did,” she replied brightly. “I’m just giving you a chance to amend your comments because if things stand as you just stated, I’m going to have to show my displeasure by killing you.”
The man paled slightly but stuck to his story. “It’s not me. I can’t sell you supplies if I don’t have them.”
O’Hare smiled her little maniac smile and pointed an index finger at the man’s image in the manner of an adult correcting a wayward child. “Now that is not exactly true,” she said in her best chiding voice as she waved her finger at him. “You have the supplies. It is just that three Nustar Corporation freighters are coming in two days, and you decided to sell our supplies to them at a higher price than we had agreed on, so now there are no supplies left for us. Not nice.”
The man had his hands out in a supplicate fashion. “Surely you don’t believe that.”
“Now you take me for a fool,” O’Hare snapped and leaned closer to the screen. Despite the distance of one hundred kilometers between them, the man filched away from her image on his screen. She spoke in an instructive tone. “I see three courses of action here. First, I could accept your story and do nothing. I wouldn’t count too much on that one if I were you. The second course is to move out and hit the three freighters. If I take them, they won’t need any supplies. But they have done nothing to warrant such actions. The third course is I kill you. That would be the easiest thing to do and give me the most pleasure. Which one do you think I’m going to do?”
The man pleaded, “I can’t give you…”
O’Hare cut him off. “Many people use the word can’t when they really should say won’t. Remember, it is tough to spend money when you’re dead.” She leaned back into her seat and sighed theatrically. “I’m not known for my patience so I will give this one more chance and then we’ll have to approach this problem from another direction. One you won’t like. I can only hope your successor will be more reasonable about honoring deals already made.”
The silence began again. Seconds ticked by as O’Hare calmly waited. The man spoke first again. “Okay. I think I can pull together the supplies agreed on.”
“Excellent! I’ll have a loading party there shortly.” She leaned close to the screen again and both she and her wolf’s head hallie smiled widely. “I’m sure there will be no further glitches here.” She cut the connection.
Nemesis and the freighters Steppenwolf and Vampire were orbiting above the settlement of Last Chance on the planet Absolution located in the Perdition solar system. The spaceport was aptly named, but it was one directional. The Perdition system was adjacent to the Badlands and this settlement was the last chance to stop before entering that region. None of this was pertinent in this particular instance as Captain O’Hare was going in the other direction. The three ships now in orbit were covered by two corvettes of O’Hare’s Wolfpack in a high guard position above the planet. It was an occupational hazard of the pirate profession that anytime a pirate ship took up a planet orbit, a planet official or informant may alert the off planet authorities to their presence. It was a standard operational procedure (SOP) for Pirate Flotilla One to maintain guard ships as one or more of their ships went into orbit to conduct business. These guards give warning of an approaching threat and would fight a delaying action, if necessary, to allow the orbiting ships time to depart.
The other two squadrons of Pirate Flotilla One were still raiding throughout the Badlands. Alpha and Charlie Squadrons were fighting everywhere and anywhere to ensure the new Goth admiral in command of Third Fleet was properly introduced to her challenge. The last thing Hawkins wanted was anyone assuming the new admiral had scared Flot 1 out of the area. The two squadrons would rendezvous with Wolfpack in the Perdition System in the next week.
Also meeting them at that time would be the two recent joins to Flot 1, Corsair and Cottonmouth. They were now completing a short stay in the shipyards for maintenance and system upgrades.
The last Flot 1 ship to be accounted for was the freighter Dragon. She was conducting business deep in the Aurora Empire. Soon enough, all of Pirate Flotilla One would be in the Aurora Empire.
Killian O’Hare gave orders to the bridge to launch the ship shuttle without death squads and now returned to monitoring the aft hull camera. She went to high magnification and focused on the lone ship slowly closing the gap with Nemesis. That ship was in a slightly lower orbit and would pass off the pirate ship’s port side. O’Hare waited as the ship closed. When the ship was almost abeam, she snapped several images of the vessel. The ship was in poor repair with obvious patches over battle damage and one engine giving a considerable less heat signature than the other. There was no mistaking her class or the name visible on the hull. A Mamba class destroyer named Sidewinder. A ghost ship from an extinct navy. O’Hare composed a P4 for Hawkins and Shane Delacruz, attached the images, and sent it.
Chapter 4
The Aurora Empire Home Fleet commander had a large area of responsibility (AOR) encompassing several solar systems, dozens of planets, and a large segment of the common border with the Orion Confederation. The most important part of his area of responsibility was the Empire’s home planet of Zelenka. Although several systems and a great distance stretched between the border with the Orion Confederation and Zelenka, protection of the home planet and home system were always the top priorities for Home Fleet. These same vast distances and an aggressive, smart enemy made the acquisition and communication of up-to-date and precise intelligence a continuous challenge. Due to political considerations, Home Fleet could not go on the offensive but was required to remain in Aurora Empire territory and guard their AOR. Thus, Home Fleet was always in a reaction mode. Precious ships and people of the Home Fleet were allocated based on the perceived enemy threat. They couldn’t be everywhere all the time, so accurate intel on current enemy positions and strengths plus a prediction of enemy intentions for the future were always driving factors in intelligence gathering. They were at the core of all intelligence briefs given at Home Fleet. Subsequent decisions on ship deployments and tactical plans were based on these briefs.
Home Fleet commander, High Admiral Lawton P. Barrett, received a brief every morning from all his staff sections covering a variety of topics. To ensure all the information on the current combat situation was properly covered before other briefs were presented, the Intelligence Section (G-2) always went first. As head of the Intelligence section, Captain Diane Zerbe was responsible for the intel portion of the daily brief. Her deputy, Captain Stephen Rodney, was providing the brief this morning.
“At the far end of our AOR, the enemy is maintaining scattered forces across the border from the Electra System. We believe they will engage in sporadic raiding in that region to catch and destroy individual fleet units and reduce morale of the inhabitants there. These enemy actions would also keep Admiral Levant’s force covering the Electra System and our two military bases there engaged on a regular basis.”
Rodney droned on about other fronts and other units. The Home Fleet was not going anywhere any time soon and everyone knew it, but they had to be ready if called upon. The briefs would be over soon. Operations, Intelligence, Logistics, and Administration were covered in broad terms as befitting the audience. The morning ritual was conducted in the main briefing compartment aboard the flagship Sirocco. The two entrance hatches were at one end of the large compartment. Just inside of this entrance was a long table with several chairs behind it. The Admiral and his senior officers r
eceiving the briefs sat at this table with their backs to the entrance. Out in front of the long narrow table a briefing platform with multiple 3D projectors took up the center of the compartment. Surrounding this area were dozens of chairs secured in a large horseshoe. Much like theater seating, the rows of chairs gradually rose toward the back on all three remaining sides of the compartment to allow the audience an unobstructed view of the briefing area. The senior staff officers, the briefing officers, and others responsible for providing the information sat in the first two rows of the horseshoe. Behind them, the remaining seats were taken up by the junior officers of the Admiral’s staff and staff officers from the Wanderlust surface base.
Admiral Barrett’s chief of staff, Captain Skyler Mallory, sat in her customary chair at the end of the narrow table so she had a good field of vision of the briefing table and of the audience. She also had an unrestricted view of Lieutenant junior grade Lara Bychovskaya sitting alone high in the back row against the far bulkhead. She still thought of the young officer as Blondie, the nickname given her by the pirates she had worked with on her recent assignment. Blondie had served months with the pirates while they prepared in their Badlands home systems for a mission deep in OrCon territory. Mallory herself had joined the pirates when they had embarked on the actual mission and she saw the shy, inexperienced young ensign who had left the Home Fleet flagship grow into a confident battle tested veteran. Aboard Predator, Blondie had worked in engineering and intelligence, and qualified as an Officer of the Deck. She had been superb in all respects. With Mallory’s enthusiastic endorsement, Blondie had been meritoriously promoted to her present rank upon their return. After the mission, Sky had had only occasional contact with Blondie, but what she had seen was troubling. Since her return, Blondie had been treated as somewhat of an outcast within the intel department. With the pirates, she had been given free rein in doing her work, and she could conduct herself as she wanted. Her dress, her work hours, and her personal activities had been left to her own discretion. Sky briefly smiled to herself. The pirates weren’t big on spit and polish or structured command networks. In fact, they weren’t big on anything except mission accomplishment. Blondie had grown accustomed to the freedom of working in that arena and was having trouble fitting in back in her old, more restrictive environment. It didn’t help that the head of the department, Captain Zerbe, was a strict disciplinarian. It was obvious the other young intel officers saw which way the wind was blowing and kept a safe distance from Blondie.
Admiral Barrett asked a few questions of the last briefer. He then turned to the deputy fleet commander and, finally, to Sky to give each of them an opportunity to ask questions. Neither had questions. With that, the morning briefings concluded. The Admiral rose and everyone else in the room rose with him. He thanked all the briefers and departed the briefing room. Officers now departed behind the Admiral or broke into small groups for a few minutes of conversation. Sky sat back down and watched Blondie rise from her seat in the back row, descend down the center aisle, and depart through the front hatches without talking to anyone.
Chapter 5
Shuttle 407 crossed the wide sea strait between continents and entered the airspace over the continent of Tranquility, the most picturesque and least populated region on the planet.
The young man watched the passing terrain below the shuttle. The beautiful wooded hills were split by flowing streams and quiet lakes. All was green in early summer, prospering from the spring rains and before the summer heat would dry much of the vegetation into a golden brown. The lands in between the hill ranges were cultivated fields of crops and orchards. Animal herds grazed in pasturelands. The hills were still in the same pristine wild state as when the region was first settled. Foresight and strict laws had ensured this continent on Zelenka would keep the pastoral character, which had earned it the name Tranquility from the early settlers. Farming and ranching were the leading industries here although tourism had steadily grown over recent years. It would never overtake the top two, as the locals liked their continent just as it was, so they had restricted infrastructure growth and, although they liked tourist money, they had a certain disdain for the tourists themselves. Tranquility was quiet and slow so would never be an “in” destination, and the natives liked it just that way.
The shuttle sped along for thirty minutes. They soon passed into a large region of Tranquility known as Black Hallow. Farming and grazing country, there were few villages and no cities. The terrain sloped steadily upward to the tall mountains of the Placid Range in the distance. The shuttle would not be going to those mountains as its destination was in the foothills below that range.
Not a word passed between the two occupants, but the silence was comfortable. They had been together for a long time and both, by nature, were not given to idle chatter. He was content to watch the scenery, and she enjoyed the flying, so each was quite satisfied with the current situation. If the shuttle flight had taken longer, it would have been just as well to both of them. But the trip was nearing its end. The shuttle banked to starboard and proceeded up a wide, rising valley toward the high ridge crossing the valley at the far end. The two people looked at that ridge and saw their destination on the highest point of the ridgeline. Haven Hill was aptly named. It was a large estate with a main house and several outbuildings. The view in all directions must be magnificent. Below the structures were plowed fields and orchards stretching into the valley below. Pastures with grazing herds were scattered among the farmed fields. As the shuttle descended toward a landing on a pad behind the main house, several exotic animals were seen wandering on the pastureland down the slope from the main establishment.
As the distance diminished to their destination, the main house came into sharp view. It was not as large or grand as might be expected of the main residence of a great noble family. It had been built over two hundred years ago and was added to and modified over the decades. It was the main residence for a working estate not a show palace. The house had none of the ostentatiousness of the residences of the newly rich or terminally insecure. The family had always felt that flaunting their wealth was unseemly or, worse still, impractical. Habitats were meant to be functional places and not to be used for ego gratification. The family had, for several generations, believed houses do not make statements, actions and character do, and so the family focused on that. Besides, if you saw this house or images of it, and didn’t know who lived there, then you clearly hadn’t done your due diligence so shouldn’t be taken seriously anyway.
The outbuildings were functional also. Sturdy and straightforward, they were classic examples of form following function. There was a quiet, deep elegance to this place, which few other residences could match. This entire estate calmly announced “we know who we are and have no obligation to prove anything to anybody.”
The shuttle set up for a final approach to the pad. A voice over the radio broke the silence as it broadcasted over several safety of flight frequencies. “Approaching shuttle, you are not cleared to land at Haven Hill.”
The young man keyed the mike from the copilot’s steering column, “We’re here to see the old man.”
A long pause followed. It wasn’t often the owner of the estate was referred to as the old man, and the owner of the gruff voice at the other end of the transmission was probably staring at his radio in disbelief. But he recovered quickly, “If you land, you may be arrested or even fired upon.”
“Then we will definitely fire back. Be a shame to punch big holes in that nice house.”
Another long pause. The young man’s threat of retaliation was not idle. It would produce a serious incident, but these two people were used to causing serious incidents. Finally the voice on the radio spoke, “Shuttle, you are cleared to land at the pad. Remain in your transportation.”
The two occupants looked at each other and nodded. The shuttle was on short final now. The woman expertly manipulated the controls, adding power to compensate for slowing airspeed as she guid
ed the shuttle in a smooth descent toward the landing pad. She crabbed slightly into the wind to maintain a straight path over the ground. She continued to add power as airspeed bled off. The shuttle came to a smooth hover over the pad. The craft stabilized and then came straight down to lightly settle onto the concrete rectangle.
The woman shut down the aircraft and then searched behind her along the left console as she located and pressed the button releasing the right side hatch of the craft. She now pushed her seat back and pivoted it as she rose and departed for the rear of the shuttle. The young man followed her from the right seat. On the way aft, the woman reached into one of the passenger seats behind the cockpit and picked up the energy rifle she had placed there upon boarding. She casually cradled it under her arm as she approached the slightly ajar entrance hatch. She crossed the hatch and stopped on the far side. She leaned against the hull next to the hatch and adjusted the rifle to place its pistol grip in her left hand, and then placed her right hand on the fore stock. She was left handed so this was all quite natural. She could do equally well with either hand, as such a skill was a necessity in her line of work. The young man stopped on the near side of the hatch and assumed a position similar to the woman’s. He had no rifle but did have a pistol in a holster at his side. Through the hatch porthole, they could see four men spread out along the back of the house. The men were armed with rifles, but their dress and awkwardness showed they were ranch hands pressed into service on a moment’s notice to handle this pop up threat. The woman looked across at the man and spoke in an unbelieving voice. “They got to be kidding.” The man nodded in agreement. The two newcomers could take these four men without breaking a sweat. The woman alone could take all four before any would get off an aimed shot. The pair waited calmly.
Echoes from Yesterday: Pirates of the Badlands Series Book 4 Page 2