by Kal Spriggs
“They didn't have transponders on any of the rest of it,” Mason said. “Just on the radioactive isotopes that we were specifically instructed to remove. So either they know that you need them for something or they have someone inside your organization that told them about the raid.”
Counselor Penwaithe's eyes narrowed and she looked as if she were about to speak, but Admiral Moore just waved his hand again, “Nonsense,” he said, “all of our people aware of that raid had every reason to want to see it succeed. I would merely assume that Nova Corp knows the value of those generated isotopes and therefore took action to label them to prevent unauthorized use or theft. Clearly, if they had expected you to attack they would have had their ships in position to intercept you.”
Mason wanted to push the point, but Stavros wouldn't have reason, at least, not that the Halcyon Defense Fleet's senior officer would know. Mannetti would expect me to ask a few more questions, since she's hinted at some of what is going on here, he thought, but Counselor Penwaithe and Admiral Moore still think I'm a happy, little privateer.
“Fine,” Mason said with a broad gesture of dismissal, “If that is what happened, then who am I to argue. Still, I was surprised at the bonus for completing the assignment. Only the War Dogs managed to retain their cargo.”
“Yes, well,” Counselor Penwaithe said, “In light of the other resources your squadron obtained and the fact that they did manage to bring back some of the isotopes, we felt a full bonus was in order.” She smiled slightly, “The fact that the isotopes you couldn't bring back were destroyed also increased the market value of the ones that you did collect. Lastly, of course, the artifacts that your squadron retrieved may be of some value to collectors and such.”
She said the last bit perfunctorily, as if she didn't think Stavros would think much of it. Yet Mason knew that collectors of alien artifacts normally targeted specific artifacts for acquisition, not bulk lots. Some part of him wondered whether the entire purpose of the raid had been to acquire those artifacts and the rest of him was certain that they played some essential role in whatever plan the people of Halcyon had developed with Admiral Mannetti and Admiral Collae.
Well, Mason thought, not the people, the government. That was an important difference, he knew. If the people of the planet had made that deal, he wouldn't have sympathized with them. In fact, he didn't even think that Councilor Penwaithe had signed off on that decision. Someone higher had made that call and Counselor Jessica Penwaithe wanted to make the best of a bad situation.
Unfortunately, Mason thought, I have the feeling that her father-in-law was somehow involved. Mason still didn't know how Spencer Penwaithe fit in. By everything Mason had seen, he was only a minor politician on the planet... and a disgraced one to boot. Yet somehow he treated Admiral Collae as if he were a servant and had pulled strings within Halcyon's government with little apparent effort.
Admiral Collae was a powerful renegade military commander within the Colonial Republic Army Navy, itself a radical paramilitary wing of the Colonial Republic. Collae could command an entire fleet and call upon substantial support across the Colonial Republic. At least a half dozen warlords would come at his call and yet he answered to a man who Mason had never even heard of until only a few months earlier.
“Now,” Admiral Moore said, “President Monaghan has made a special request of the Halcyon Defense Fleet, acquiring essential munitions and supplies to maintain our war efforts. Your next mission ties into that. It should be a nice, easy run for you after that last fight.”
“Oh?” Mason asked.
“Yes,” Counselor Penwaithe said. “Your squadron will travel to the Anvil system. Admiral Mannetti has graciously set us up with a meeting with an arms dealer who has agreed to supply us with munitions and spare parts for many of our ships. It will be a non-combat mission, ideal for you to undertake while training additions and replacements to your squadron.”
“Excellent!” Mason said, even as he felt his stomach sink. Mannetti must have arranged this assignment, which meant this wouldn't be the easy run that these two expected.
“Well,” Counselor Penwaithe said, “Thank you for your time, Commodore. Please contact me if you have any additional issues.” There was an edge to her voice, a mix of exhaustion, anxiety, and even a little despair. She's tired, Mason realized, tired of worrying about the safety of her planet and tired of dealing with pirate scum like Stavros.
For just a moment, Mason very nearly asked her directly what the agreement with Mannetti involved. He felt that the openness and honesty might well provoke a similar response. Telling her that she had allies might well swing things around.
Yet, Admiral Duncan Moore's presence was anything but reassuring. Mason had little respect for the man's competence and his position suggested that someone wanted him where he was. That, in turn, suggested to Mason that he was involved, possibly as a cut-out for when something went wrong, but also possibly as an inside man to make certain that things went according to plan. And whose inside man he might be is a very interesting question, Mason thought.
“Right,” Mason nodded, “I'll call my Captains together and we'll get right on it.”
***
“Good work on that last run,” Commodore Frank Pierce said as Garret took a seat in the mercenary commander's tiny office. Like everything aboard the Warwagon, the room was cramped, the fittings were positively spartan, and space was at a premium. For someone who was over two meters in height, it was not a comfortable room, but then again, neither was the cockpit of a Hammer.
Garret was used to confined spaces. He was less used to failures. “I lost Caela and Clint.”
The Commodore gave a nod, “You did.” His tone was stern, “But you could have lost eleven more Hammers and their carrier along with all the people aboard them, which would have been far worse. Caela knew the risks... hell, she's been with the War Dogs almost since we began.” He shrugged, “She came in like a firecracker, full of piss and vinegar... a lot like your young ensign, Gordon's her name, right?”
Garret nodded.
“She wasn't ever as cute, though, else I might have been tempted to take her up on a couple of her offers.” The Commodore shook his head, “Caela was, if nothing else, quite eager to sleep around. Not big on relationships, but...” he shrugged. “Speaking of which, I understand that you have provided some mentoring for Ensign Gordon.”
“We are just friends,” Garret said, back straight and his voice kept level only by sheer will.
“That's a nice thought to have,” Commodore Pierce said with a slight smile, “but she clearly doesn't think so. You had better either break free of her entirely or just give in, boy. She seems like the type who knows what she wants.”
Garret shook his head, “Christ, Commodore, I dated her older sister, I'm ten years older than her, at least!”
“Yeah and unless I misread our Company Charter, the War Dogs provide all personnel who sign on with complementary life extension treatment. So while that might matter at your age, in fifty years or so, it won't bother either of you very much.”
Garret just shook his head, “Well, it's fraternization. Besides, like I said, she's the kid sister of an old girlfriend, I just don't think of her that way.” He could admit to himself that she was attractive, smart, and capable, but it wasn't as if she were really his type. She wasn't anything like Jessica, in most ways. Outspoken, yes, but cheerful and friendly, where Jessica could come across as confrontational. I mean, he thought, I can't really say that I have a type… there hasn't really been anyone since Jessica and while I feel some attraction to Abigail, it's just that. After all, it would be wrong if I let it become anything more.
He felt his stomach drop as he realized just what that meant. It wasn't that he was disinterested in her... it was that he was afraid to express that interest.
The Commodore seemed to read his expression, “It's important to be honest with yourself and to seize the opportunities you can in life.”
&nbs
p; Garret shook his head. He felt suddenly punch drunk, “Sir, you aren't suggesting that I sleep with someone under my command, are you?”
Commodore Pierce sighed, “Garret, we aren't military, we're mercenaries. Yes, in our charter I've got a section on fraternization... but I wrote that section with a note that professional behavior is the essential factor. If I thought you couldn't behave in a professional matter about this, I wouldn't bring it up.”
Garret looked away, uncertain how he should take that.
“You may not know this, but Caela and I served together long before I founded the War Dogs,” Commodore Pierce said. “I knew her very well and considered her a friend. She and I had lost more comrades than you really want to know. I saw her change, saw her resort to alcohol and trivial, one night stands as a way to keep everyone at a distance. When she died, she died protecting the only family she ever had: the War Dogs.”
“Are you saying that's a bad thing?” Garret asked.
“I'm saying, don't miss your chance at something a little more meaningful,” Commodore Pierce said. “Like I said, we're mercenaries. When it comes down to it, we fight and die for money. Caela died protecting her family, but she was in that situation because of money.”
Garret looked away, he couldn't really argue with that. He thought back to his conversation with Jessica and his brother, Harris. They had made him an offer, a chance at a life outside of a career as a mercenary. “Sir, Halcyon made me an offer, commander of their Defense Fleet.”
Commodore Pierce nodded, “I know.”
Garret's mouth dropped, “You know?”
The Commodore smirked, “Well, they told me, but I expected it anyway. I knew about your family connections, Penwaithe being a relatively uncommon name, after all, and I figured that was half of why they hired us in the first place.” He gave a shrug, “Honestly, I think you could handle the job, though it wouldn't hurt for you to get a bit more experience under your belt.”
Garret shook his head again, “I'm not really certain what to think. I like serving with the War Dogs, sir. Partly because there isn't the pressure, the responsibility that I'd have if I took their offer... but part of it is that I've felt more at home here than I ever did on Halcyon.”
The Commodore just gave him a nod, “I appreciate that... but remember, your life is what you make of it. I'd be glad to keep you, you're a damned fine officer. Like I said, though, don't pass up a chance at something a little more meaningful.” He stared at Garret for a long moment and whatever he saw on his face seemed to satisfy him. “Now, personal issues aside, I've got a final roster for flight crews and support personnel for your full strength wing. We've also got all of those Hammers operational. So, starting tomorrow I'd like you to begin full operations with them, and they'll be going with you on your next mission...”
***
Reese Leone sighed as he stepped up next to Admiral Mannetti in the cramped compartment. “Are you certain I need to be here for this?” He hated the whining tone to his voice, but he lived at the woman's mercy. Really, he just wanted to get back to his other work at the base. After his work restoring the computer coding in the base mainframe she had appointed him as overall head of base repairs. He liked that he didn’t have any responsibility over personnel, he just managed repairs and tackled individual projects. Other people directed the actual work, he could spend hours working on a problem by himself, without people around to distract him.
“Yes,” Admiral Mannetti said. “Everyone needs to watch this.” Her voice was a weird mix of anticipatory and reverent.
The volunteer stood near the pod, her face tight. Reese remembered her from one of the training sessions where he went over how to handle the alien coding. Well, I hope it helps, Reese thought, but I doubt it.
“You've made this all possible, after all,” Admiral Mannetti turned to him and there was an odd light to her eyes, almost as if she were in the midst of some emotional or physical rapture. “Without the coding you adapted from Stavros's ship, we could never have gone this far.”
“I know,” Reese said. He didn't bother to hide his unhappiness with that fact. In the end, he didn't care much what happened to Lucretta Mannetti's people... but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight after what was about to happen.
She ignored his tone and gave a nod to her head engineer, “Begin.”
The engineer went through the activation sequence. They had already done all their calibrations, Reese knew. For that matter, they had a mass of sensors and equipment designed to monitor the entire process in order to better calibrate their systems. In only a few minutes, they would see whether it worked... or whether Admiral Mannetti would have to ask for another volunteer.
The pod opened to reveal a mesh of wiring and conduits. The volunteer climbed inside and the pod slid closed on its own.
Reese waited impatiently. He couldn't think of the volunteer as human, he told himself, or else he wouldn't be able to sleep for weeks.
Circuits around the pod went live and a whir of machinery signaled the start of the process.
Maybe, he thought, they got it right this time.
That was when the screaming began. The muffled screams came from inside the pod and they went on far longer than Reese thought any person could scream. There were no coherent words, just screams of terror and agony that gradually grew... wet.
The machinery whirred louder as the screams finally trailed off. Then, with a soft whine, the pod rotated and opened.
Reese stepped back with the others as a wave of red washed over the sides of the pod and then splashed across the floor. He restrained a sigh as bits of the volunteer streamed across the floor of the compartment.
“Failure,” Admiral Mannetti said with a moue of distaste. She didn't even seem to notice that she stood in the remains of the volunteer. “Another failure.” She shook her head and looked at Reese. “We need the rest of the base files examined, there must be some way to succeed. The secret must be there.”
“Of course,” he nodded, “I'll get right on it.” Yet as he turned away and sloshed through the remains of what had once been a human woman, he wondered if maybe it wasn't better that a woman like Admiral Mannetti didn't succeed.
***
“Stavros, darling,” Admiral Mannetti said as she walked in the door, “You don't call, you don't write, you don't give me any gifts, I'm starting to think you don't love me after all.” She strutted across the private conference room, her skin-tight black uniform augmenting her display.
Mason stood up slowly from his chair, “Well, you know, you did tell me to keep things quiet.”
She halted a few steps away and Mason saw her shift bodyweight. He could have caught the blow, but not without giving away his own speed. The slap caught him across the side of the face hard enough to snap his head around. “Stavros, if you think sulking will draw my attention, well...” Lucretta Mannetti trailed off and her hand came back to stroke Mason's cheek suggestively, “Well, you might be right about that.”
“I am entirely at your disposal,” Mason said, putting some of Stavros's leer into his words.
She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him down for a kiss. Again, the predator within him responded to her. Lucretta Mannetti was a violent sociopath, but she was also extremely capable, devious, and without a doubt one of the most dangerous women he had ever met.
She broke off the rough kiss, apparently satisfied, “I've had a rough day, Stavros, but somehow that made me feel so much better. So... Stavros, are you ready to prove your loyalty to me?” Her hand stroked down his chest and then down lower.
“Of course,” Mason said, even as he wondered if he was prepared to go as far as she'd implied. As much desire as he felt for her, he was equally repulsed by the woman. She was utterly despicable, untrustworthy, and appeared to be driven entirely by self-interest. If that weren't enough, Mason felt more than a little confused with his developing relationship with Lauren Kelly.
“Good,” Mannetti said
and turned away. Mason gave a silent sigh of relief as she took a seat across from him. “Because the time has come to show me your dedication.” She smiled sweetly, “And, you can get a bit of payback to Commodore Pierce in the process.”
Mason gave his patented Stavros smirk, “Oh?”
“It would be a tragic shame if something were to happen to the War Dogs' Hammers on this latest mission of yours,” she said. “Pierce just brought his “wing” of them up to full strength, but their pilots have to be inexperienced.
“What do you have planned?” Mason asked with a broader smile. If she already has something in the works, I may not be able to stop it, he thought, not unless she gives me more to go on.
“You're a clever fellow, you think of something,” Mannetti growled. “I've got enough on my plate here on Halcyon. Deal with Azure Wing, prove to me that you're worth bringing into my organization... and then maybe we can indulge ourselves a bit.” She arched her back as she stood, giving him an ample display of what that indulgence would involve. Lucretta Mannetti turned to leave, swaying her hips suggestively. She paused at the door, “Oh, and Stavros, who was it who did your ship's programing? I'm in need of a good programmer, myself.”
Ah, Mason thought, there's the point of that display. “Programmer?” Mason licked his lips, “Oh, for the Kraken, right. It was a woman... uh, Kallee, Kylee, something like that.”
Mannetti paused at the door, her gaze intent, “Would you be a darling and put me in contact with her?”
Mason gave a sigh and a shrug, “I'm afraid that's impossible. She died, very tragic.”
Mannetti's eyes narrowed. “That's... inconvenient.” She gave him a last nod and swept out of the room. Mason sat back down and rubbed at his face. Things were getting very complicated. It was time to have another talk with Commodore Pierce.
***
“So,” Commodore Frank Pierce said, “I've confirmed that the alien artifacts we collected as well as the radioactive isotopes were both shipped to Brokenjaw Mountain.”