The Good, the Bad, and the Merc: Even More Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 8)

by Chris Kennedy

  Logan closed the panel and casually slipped the control bypass into a back pocket when he was done. “We’re good to go for the next hundred and seventy hours. Well done on the power run. Great work.”

  The Jeha seemed to hesitate but finally turned to move back into the main engineering control area with him.

  “What you did was dangerous,” the alien said. “Risky. I must inform the chief engineer when she returns to duty. I regret that, as you have been a good coworker.”

  The implication was that Logan would at least get a severe reprimand. At worst, they’d fire him.

  He put on a glum expression that he didn’t feel inside. “I understand, and I don’t blame you. I’ll be happy to defend my actions, and we’ll see if the chief agrees. No hard feelings.”

  Once the Jeha moved over to one of the other consoles, Logan pulled the controller override out of his pocket and plugged it into a handheld reader. The display blinked and showed their destination. Their true destination, not the one the pilot on the bridge had entered.

  He smiled as he wiped the memory in the device and began disassembling the controller into its base parts. He’d get it mixed into the spares over the rest of the shift, and no one would realize what he’d done until they popped out of hyperspace into the wrong system.

  Several ships from Dresden’s Dragoons would be waiting for them there. This ship would be impounded for the rest of the operation.

  Logan couldn’t wait until their marines took over. He really wanted to know what was in the special cargo the MinSha mercenaries guarded so diligently.

  His part in this little play was just about over. Now Gina had to do the heavy lifting.

  * * *

  “Five minutes until emergence,” the pilot said.

  Gina rose to her feet and stepped over to the captain’s console. Lestorra looked at her expectantly.

  “Remember, keep it low key. Everything is normal. If they do anything unexpected, just roll with it. Once we get to the planet, we’ll get you safely down to the surface and away from the fighting. You’ll have earned that big bonus.”

  “The time for jitters is during rehearsal,” the actor said. “Don’t worry. I’m excellent at improvisation.”

  That didn’t make her feel any better, but it was far too late to worry. Either the plan would work, or it wouldn’t. If it failed, they were dead.

  Rather than say anything like that, she nodded and moved to the conference room. All the mercenary commanders were waiting there. Everyone wore their unpowered combat armor, and the air was thick with tension. Even Greer was quiet.

  She took her seat and watched the screen showing the bridge. Everything was going according to plan. Their pilot was actually running the show, but you’d never have known just by looking. Lestorra sat in his chair exuding confidence.

  “You think he can pull it off?” Doug asked softly.

  “Of course I do,” she said. “I’d never have agreed to the crazy scheme if I didn’t.”

  “I just can’t help worrying about something unforeseen happening. What if they insist on boarding us?”

  “They’ve never done that before. So long as we arrive on schedule, we’ll be fine.”

  She really, really hoped that was true.

  The timer counted inexorably down. When it reached zero, the ship dropped out of hyperspace.

  “We’re out cleanly, Captain,” the pilot said, as much for the actor as for Gina and the rest. “Sensors confirm we’re in the target system, and the expected escort is arriving with us. The timing appears to have been perfect.”

  That had been the biggest risk. If the convoy had changed its departure time, it would’ve screwed them hard. With all the ships arriving at once, no one would question their presence.

  After all, Times Square not only had the same emissions signature as the original freighter, they were visually identical. They’d gone to ludicrous lengths to make sure, even artificially pitting and scarring the hull in specific locations to be sure no one would know the difference if they came into visual range.

  People—alien or not—saw what they expected to see. If you were following another vehicle through traffic and momentarily lost sight of them, you wouldn’t question their identity when you spotted them again, even in the unlikely case where it was somehow a different vehicle. Not until something made you question your assumption.

  It was their job to keep the MinSha from questioning their assumptions.

  “Incoming call,” the com officer said.

  “On screen,” Lestorra said calmly.

  A MinSha appeared. “It is good to see you again, Adronus. Did you have any trouble on the trip?”

  “No trouble at all,” the impostor said. “It was a rather boring week.”

  “Excellent. Adjust your course, and we’ll form up around you. My pilot indicates it will take you ten hours to make orbit.”

  At their own pilot’s subtle nod, Lestorra gave a decisive nod of his own. “That concurs with my assessment. We’ll alter course at once.”

  “See you there. Oh, what is the status of the special cargo?”

  “All secure,” the actor said. “Nothing special to report.”

  “Very good. See that it stays that way.”

  The enemy commander ended the call.

  Lestorra turned to face the com pickup. “What special cargo? Am I supposed to know about this?”

  Gina opened the video from her end. “It’s news to me, too. If anyone else calls and asks about it, just keep up the same line. Really good response to that curve ball.”

  The alien cocked his head. “Curve ball?”

  “Never mind. Human sports metaphor. Pilot, coordinate as needed with the other ships and get us moving. How many enemy ships are here guarding the emergence point?”

  “About what we were told to expect, Commander. A dozen ships ranging from battlecruisers down to destroyers. Our ambush force will have a field day with them if we manage to get them off station.”

  “Then get us to orbit so we can spring our trap.”

  She killed the connection to the bridge and turned to her fellows. “I want everyone ready to drop on schedule. We’ll keep a response force suited up in case they send someone over, but we’re toast if that happens.

  “Everyone else get some rest and some food, in that order. We execute the big reveal as soon as we make orbit over the primary target.”

  * * *

  “Emergence in five minutes,” the captain said over the com to Logan. “Prepare for normal space operations.”

  “We’ll be ready, Captain.”

  Oh, yeah. They’d be ready, all right. He’d been working hard to make sure of that for the last week. While they’d have plenty of ships on hand to intimidate an unarmed freighter, Logan would much rather make the job of boarding it easy.

  After all, his compatriots didn’t know about the special cargo or the MinSha guards assigned to it. Unlike the crew, they’d fight. His job was to hamper them as much as possible.

  Challenge accepted.

  And really, it had been a challenge. He’d originally intended to cut all the power as soon as they dropped back into normal space. With how freaky the MinSha had been about power, that wasn’t an option now. No matter what, he needed to make sure the dedicated run maintained power.

  There was no telling what the damned thing would do if he just cut the juice. It might blow up. He didn’t want to kill any of the crew on the ship. They weren’t direct combatants.

  He watched the timer count down to zero and felt the ship exit hyperspace with a wrench to his guts. Moments later, the emergency alarm began sounding.

  The overhead speakers came to life. “Alert! We’re in an ambush! I need all power to the drives!”

  “Coming right up, Captain,” Logan said.

  He pressed the switch on his console that activated his hidden program. Even more alarms began sounding as microcharges blew the power couplings to the drives. Others around the sh
ip would disable every major system except for the special cargo.

  The overhead lights dimmed and switched to emergency mode. That was his cue to exit stage left.

  “Why did you betray us?”

  Logan looked over his shoulder and found the Jeha engineer standing on the bulkhead behind him. Most of the engineering staff were going crazy trying to figure out what had just happened, but a few were backing the alien up.

  Not good.

  “What?” he asked, making sure to insert indignant surprise into his voice. “Stop talking nonsense and help me get power restored. We have enemies close at hand.”

  “I wasn’t sure you were a traitor when this all started,” the alien said as if he hadn’t spoken. “Now I am. What were you really doing at the hyperdrive controls?”

  He allowed himself a small smile. “What you really should be asking is if I’m with the ambushers. If I’m not, you should be working with me to restore power. If I am, you shouldn’t be antagonizing me before the inevitable boarding parties arrive. Stand down.”

  “Kill him,” the Jeha said.

  Logan planted his feet against the console and shoved. He soared across the engineering space while everyone else was still shouting. Their indecision wouldn’t hold.

  Now that he was running, someone would give chase. He needed to either get clear of the ship or hide long enough for the Dragoons to get people aboard.

  The pack of engineers was howling in pursuit as he reached the auxiliary access corridor. Almost literally howling. It was creepy. All they needed to perfect their appearance were torches and pitchforks.

  He activated the emergency hatch and slipped into the corridor right before it slid closed.

  It was designed to keep hostile forces out of the engineering spaces for a little while. It would take them a bit to override the lockout. That gave him thirty seconds at most to get lost.

  Hiding from engineers who knew every part on this ship seemed like a bad bet, so he’d best get off the freighter while the getting was good.

  Logan shoved down the corridor toward the shuttle bay. He could steal one of the small craft. Standing orders were to not open fire on fleeing crew. He’d be safe until he could identify himself.

  He almost made it. He could see the hatch leading inside the shuttle bay when the MinSha mercenaries that formed the guard detail for the special cargo came rushing in from the other direction. The giant purple praying mantises could move damned fast in zero G.

  That was fine. He could get past them. He was part of the crew. They knew him on sight.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t stop them from raising their weapons and opening fire on him.

  * * *

  Gina woke abruptly when someone pounded on her door. A glance at the clock told her she’d been asleep almost eight hours.

  That was annoying. She’d left instructions for them to wake her after five. Now she’d have to grab an emergency bar and race around like an idiot double-checking everything.

  She opened the hatch and glared at the grinning man outside. Greer. Of course.

  “Can’t you tell time?” she demanded. “I have things to do.”

  “You need all the beauty sleep you can get, Gina. How are you ever going to get a husband with that face?”

  “Easy enough. Grab him by his junk and lead him around. Like this.”

  She grabbed Greer by his belt rather than his crotch. She might be a rough-and-tumble mercenary, but she had standards. Only prostitutes and Greer touched his junk. Probably mostly the latter.

  He squawked and tried to get loose, but Gina broke his magnetic boots free of the deck and shoved him into the air to the raucous laughter of his men.

  “Now get your asses to the drop ships and stop dicking around,” she said sternly. “Literally.”

  What would be considered sexual harassment in any other profession was just par for the course in her field. The story would spread like wildfire, and the whole setup he’d worked out to embarrass her would blow up in his face.

  Five minutes after she’d left the red-faced mercenary to the unmerciful care of his friends, she was in the command center. The other mercenary commanders were at their assigned drop ships and loading their people for the assault.

  Views of them all loading their CASPers into the drop ships showed that the boarding was running slightly ahead of schedule. Good.

  Gina opened a command link to the senior people. “Sorry I’m late. Someone decided not to wake me on schedule. My fault. Next time I’ll set an alarm. Status?”

  They called in one by one. Everyone was in good shape for orbital insertion. The timing of the landing was dependent on where they were in relation to the base and how the protective forces in orbit were arrayed.

  She was grateful she didn’t need to make any changes to their basic plan. Even Greer’s people were doing what they needed to do.

  At the one-hour mark, she’d eaten something and was getting ready to head for her own CASPer. A call from the bridge stopped her.

  Lestorra came on the com. “Sorry to disturb you, Commander Dresden, but something odd is happening. The escort commander just called and asked for an update from the guards for the ‘special cargo.’ He said they were overdue, and he was concerned.

  “I made up a story about something being broken in their com system, but he seemed a little agitated. He instructed me to have one of them call him back from the bridge in the next half hour.”

  That was a problem, since they had no idea who the guards were, what they were guarding, or even their race. Probably MinSha, but her forces only had humans and a few aliens. No MinSha.

  “He’ll call back in half an hour,” she said. “String him along. Tell him we’re having com issues. Make it audio only. Then cut the line and only occasionally reconnect for a moment. Long enough to get a few words out. Nothing more.

  “Odds are he’ll be pissed as hell but wait until we reach orbit to send someone over. That’ll give us enough time to launch phase two of Operation Shell Game.”

  The alien shook his head. “I will never understand Humans. I assume that means something humorous. I will do my best. If it is not good enough, what will you do?”

  Gina smiled. “I’ll ambush any forces they send over. If we can delay a response from the warships until we reach orbit, we’ll win. If not, this is going to hurt us badly.”

  * * *

  Logan ducked back around the curve just in time to avoid a bloody death, but he was trapped between inexplicably homicidal mercenaries and equally murderous engineers. He had only seconds to get clear of both or he’d die.

  Thank God he knew this ship like the back of his hand.

  He ducked into a maintenance passage just as he heard the hatch to engineering slide open. His pursuers were still howling for his blood. He slid the cover back in place moments before they rounded the corner.

  Their roars of rage turned into screams of terror and pain as the mercenaries shot them up. That was probably the most one-sided battle in history. Short, too.

  Seconds after it started, a deadly silence fell over the area. Logan kept his breathing deep and slow. He had no idea how good MinSha hearing was, but he doubted they’d hear him over the alarms still blaring down the corridor. Still, it never paid to take unnecessary chances.

  Speaking of that, he set his translator pendant to record and killed the audio. If they said anything, he didn’t want his translator to give him away.

  Several shots indicated they were making sure no one survived to tell anyone about their little indiscretion. Executing unarmed—though admittedly homicidal—civilians wouldn’t look very good on their resumés.

  It had to be something about that special cargo. Something they either feared or wanted to hide. If the latter, he needed to get off the ship as soon as possible. They might be arranging an explosive finale for the freighter.

  They paused seemingly just outside his hiding place to have a brief discussion before moving away. He’d re
view things later to see if it was useful.

  This maintenance passage went up above the corridor to service the air circulation system that fed into the shuttle bay. At least it would until they cut the atmosphere. If he wanted to get in there before it became unreachable, he’d best get a move on.

  Once he was relatively certain the mercenaries had moved away from the entrance to the maintenance shaft, he started climbing. Caution being the watchword, he placed his feet carefully and moved slowly to reduce the chance of making any noise they could hear.

  When he was above the corridor, he hurried to the shuttle bay air feed. It was still open, so they hadn’t depressurized the bay. The feed was sizable. People wanted their bays repressurized in a reasonable amount of time. That left enough room for him to worm his way past the cutoff.

  Now that he was inside the bay, his danger increased. He needed to get out of the feed before they started depressurizing. Nothing on a ship was wasted, so the air in the bay would be sucked back into the ship.

  He almost made it.

  When the air began blowing past him into the ship, Logan was only a few feet from the vent. He braced his feet and forced himself against the flow.

  It took all his strength to get to the vent and force it to the side. That gave him a great view of the bay transitioning to vacuum. The shadows went from soft to knife sharp very quickly.

  He opened his mouth and let the pressure equalize. If he tried to hold his breath, he’d damage his lungs as the air inside them expanded. A short-term exposure to space wouldn’t harm him. Those gross stories about exploding bodies, popping eyeballs, and boiling blood were just bull.

  The suffocation that would kill him was real, though.

  By the time the air pressure dissipated and the bay’s hatch began to open, Logan was just pulling free of the vent. He had an eagle’s view of two assault shuttles lifting off the deck and leaving the ship at low speed.

  He had no idea how they expected to escape the warships around them. Perhaps they intended to surrender. If so, they had reason to believe no one would come aboard the freighter and find out about their atrocity.