Sabercat (Tommy Reilly Chronicles Book 1)

by T. L. Knighton

  "Not everyone, Mister Hatcher. Not everyone."

  His plate empty, and dessert already politely declined, Tommy stood. "Now, if you'll excuse me, it's been a lovely evening, but I need to see to a few things before dust-off."

  The older man stood and reached a hand out. "Of course. It's been a pleasure."

  Tommy shook the other man's hand and left, showing himself out and into the waiting transport.

  ** ** **

  Hatcher shook his head as he watched the younger man step into the transport from his window. The young, naive fool. He'd grown up in the real world, where you took anything and everything you could, and screw anyone who thought ill of it. He'd grown up living off of gov breadlines, after all. He knew what he was talking about.

  Still, he kind of hoped the kid accomplished something. That kind of innocence was rare, and it would make it all the more hysterical when reality pulled the rug out from him in the end.

  "Sir?" the butler, George, said. "Mister Harris to see you."

  "Send him in," Hatcher replied, his eyes still locked on the departing transport.

  A few moments passed before Roscoe stepped into the room. "Sir," he said.

  Hatcher turned and, with a raised eyebrow, directed the underling to continue.

  Roscoe simply handed the pad over to him. The brief conversation only took a few seconds to read, but it didn't sound good. Still, Reilly had said he had a load. Perhaps that's what he was talking about?

  When he asked about that possibility, the other man appeared to squirm. "Sir, yesterday afternoon, we picked up the image of a man who gave Reilly a data chip. We still don't know what was on it, but the man was Jasyn Choss. Choss spent five years on the Rigel Penal Station for forging manifests. He landed on Ararat six days ago, plenty of time to have made up fake documents for Reilly."

  "For what, though?"

  "Honestly? I don't know yet. Something is up, but I don't know what."

  At that moment, Roscoe's pad chirped. He looked down as Hatcher spoke.

  "As long as the gold is still-"

  "Sir," Roscoe interrupted.

  Hatcher's cheek colored as he glared at his employee. "What?" he barked.

  "The warehouse was hit. It's all gone."

  "Chaffing son of a sooka!"

  ** ** **

  Tommy boarded Sabercat and looked around. The load was in place and everything looked ready, except for a few checks that law dictated the captain alone had to make. As he worked his way into the galley section, Tommy looked at Harley and said, "We ready?" He didn't care if Hatcher's people heard this or not.

  Harley nodded. "Just had the water tanks topped off a few minutes ago. Ready for final checks." He didn't mention that Cody was smuggled back on board via a shipment of bottled water. That was the trickiest part of the whole gig.

  "Good. I'm ready to get off this dust ball."

  With that, Tommy began making his way through the ship so he could log his final checks.

  ** ** **

  Roscoe sat next to Hatcher, his pad working overtime as he checked in at the HQ to see what was going on. "Surveillance says that no one has budged. The ship was reportedly loaded three hours ago, which is prior to when we think the warehouse was knocked, but we're not sure."

  "How?" Hatcher asked.

  "A transport apparently lifted the containers through the roof after they moved the cooling system. The staff had succumbed to some kind of knockout gas."

  Hatcher fumed. The security expert knew fuming when he saw it.

  "The sooka sat right there, right in front of me, and told me exactly how they'd get the gold out, and he did it while they were robbing me blind. I'm going to turn his balls into bracelets, and I don't give a chafing deermo who his family is."

  Roscoe simply nodded, though he kind of had to admire Sabercat's crew if they pulled this off. He'd had them under surveillance the entire time they were on planet, and they'd still managed to rob a secured warehouse? He might have to reevaluate his opinion of just how useful members of the Clans might be.

  Whatever he did, however, he couldn't let his admiration be obvious. His boss was less than happy at the moment, which meant he wouldn't understand the appreciation a true professional could have for someone who had bested them.

  Still, he couldn't say he was happy about the whole thing by any stretch of the imagination either, so if Hatcher could craft bracelets out of Reilly's manhood, he'd put a bid in on one himself.

  "Is Port Control holding the ship on planet?" Hatcher asked.

  Roscoe nodded. "They'll hold them there until we can inspect the cargo, at that point, we should be able to make an arrest of the whole crew."

  "Good."

  ** ** **

  "What do you chafing mean we can't dust-off?" Tommy barked at the Port Control official. "You sookas fine me for being late at one destination, but ignore that you hold me up at the departure point, and then try to lecture me about planning better?"

  "I'm sorry, sir," the official said, his voice so oily there was no doubt about his lack of sincerity. "Your ship has been flagged for cargo inspection."

  Tommy looked at the official wide eyed. "Well…um…is there some way we can expedite our departure?" he asked, reaching toward his pocket.

  The official feigned offense, but lacked the acting talent to really sell it. "Are you trying to bribe and Earth Defense Command official? Do you know what the penalty for that is?"

  Hands shooting out of his pockets, Tommy held them in front of him as if to fend off the threat. "No, no, nothing like that. I meant…within channels. Yeah, just the above-board stuff. I wondered if there was a form I could fill out or something."

  The official took on an air of haughtiness that wouldn't have looked out of place at a meeting of the Clans. "No, Mister Reilly, there isn't."

  "That's Captain Reilly," Tommy said reflexively.

  "We'll see about that," the official said as footsteps thundered up the ramp.

  "Where is he?" Hatcher's voice bellowed from beyond his site.

  A few short moments later, Hatcher stepped into view. "You good for nothing sooka sucking chafe-beetle, you eat my food while robbing me?"

  Tommy smiled and answered, "What are you talking about? How could I rob you? I was at your house, and didn't you say my crew was under surveillance?"

  "I don't know how you did it, you crotch stain, but I know you did it, chafe it!"

  The official cleared his throat, demanding attention be given to him. "Captain Reilly," he said, trying his best to make Tommy's title an epithet, "your manifest?"

  He handed the odious man the data chip, which the official popped into the data slot on his pad. "Ceramic engine parts for Hallstead Station. Is that right?"

  Tommy nodded. "Not much of a load, but it’ll pay to break atmo. After that, well…at least pushing off from the black with an empty load is cheaper than dusting off empty is, in case I can't get a load lined up fast as I need to."

  Hatcher laughed mirthlessly. "We know you got forged manifests. Open up the crates. Now!" he ordered.

  Tommy raised an eyebrow, then looked to the official.

  The official paused for effect, clearly not liking his meager authority usurped by someone like Hatcher in the least, then nodded once.

  He acknowledged with a cock of the head and walked over to the first crate. Before he could enter the opening code, Hatcher interrupted, "No, not that one. You don't get to pick what gets opened. That way you don't get to use a decoy crate or two."

  Tommy smiled broadly and spread his arms wide. "Pick any of them you want. I'll open them all, if you want, but you're on the hook for any damaged merch, understood?"

  Sure enough, Tommy soon found himself opening each one, and with each opened crate, Hatcher seemed to get more and more red. By the time the last crate was opened, the man looked to be positively purple with frustration, and took nearly every ounce of his self control for Tommy not to laugh at the man. All but one contained the parts
mentioned. The only crate that didn't contained ball bearings, which Tommy explained weren't freight, but on hand because the ship went through them something fierce.

  "I told you," Tommy said, sealing the final crate back up, "how could I be carrying a load of stolen gold when your people have been watching my ship the whole time?"

  The official tapped on his pad a few times, then look at Tommy with a smug grin that made the captain want to slug him on general principle. "You're clear for dust-off, captain."

  Tommy resisted his more violent urges and merely smiled. "Thank you. Mister Hatcher, if you and your associate would vacate my ship? I've had quite enough with accusations as aspersions as to my character for one evening, and I have a load to get on its merry way."

  The official took the lead and said, "This way, gentlemen."

  His ship freshly vacated, he hit the button on the com box. "Adele, get us buttoned up and off this rock while we still can, copy?"

  "Understood, captain. Buttoning up and dusting off."

  Tommy made his way up the stairs and into the passageway leading to engineering. Inside the engineering space, Cody was stowing his tools, in particular those he'd needed to take with him for the job.

  "How did it go?" Tommy asked.

  "Great," the engineer replied. "I don't want to admit it, but it was kind of fun."

  "Well, glad you made it through safe."

  Cody nodded his agreement.

  With that, Tommy made his way through the passageway toward the bridge. He had a brand new seat to try out, after all.

  ** ** **

  The Biermann Industries fighter thrust Commander McDonald hard against his seat as the engines ripped the ship away from the pull of gravity and hard out of the atmo. His wingman, call sign "Waco" pulled up next to them as they left the haze of atmo and into the black proper.

  "Waco, keep an eye out for the target. Local brass wants it slagged before it shows up on gate Lidar, copy?"

  "Roger that, Stains," Waco replied, using McDonald's call sign. "What are we looking for? There wasn't much time for a briefing."

  "No, there wasn't, and I don't like that," McDonald replied. "Still, this is why we're paid the big bucks, right?"

  "Right…so what are we looking for again?"

  "Transport, Harrison class. Named Sabercat, so check the transponders."

  "Copy."

  Now began the long, painful wait as they searched a few million square kilometers of space for that one single needle in this very large haystack. Luckily, this one had a big electronic sign telling them it was a needle, not hay, but they still had to find the sign.

  "Got it," Waco called. In an instant, all the relevant data appeared on McDonald's screen. The ship was right about where they expected it to be so soon after dust-off and heading toward the gate at moderate burn.

  "Yep, that looks like her," McDonald replied. "Let's roll hard. This is a kill mission, so no playing around. She looks like a transport, but those Harrisons are supposedly pretty fast and agile, so we go in and take care of business, copy?"

  "Copy that. Ready to bring the pain," Waco replied.

  McDonald shared the sentiment. He wasn't sure who this ship jagged off along the way, but he didn't care either. Like Waco said, he was ready to bring the pain.

  ** ** **

  The warning siren screeched throughout the bridge as the ambient lighting flashed red, making absolutely sure no one would miss the alert. Tommy turned to a nearby scope as Adele said, "I have two bogies coming at us fast, Captain."

  "Copy. Do we have an ID yet?" he asked, more to himself than the pilot who had other things to worry about. A few buttons pushed pulled up a rough visual of a ship, "V" shaped, with the arms forward of the cockpit and armed with a selection of missiles and, one would think, railguns.

  "What is it?" Harleys said, coming onto the bridge.

  Tommy looked to his right at the first officer, then gestured toward the scope with his head.

  The large man stepped up and looked at the screen, then unleashed a string of profanity that was as much art as expletive.

  "Pirates?" Tommy asked.

  "No. Biermann Industries P.M.C. pilots. Ostensibly in the system to protect corporate interests or under EDC contract. I saw them running on Simeon back when I was in the Corps."

  Tommy chuckled joylessly. "Considering what we're looking for, they're actually on task if they're after us."

  "Yeah, and they'll kill us without any remorse or concern if they get a chance."

  "Can we outrun them?" Tommy asked, almost rhetorically.

  Harley shook his head. "They're fighters. They'll always be faster than a transport, even Sabercat."

  It took Tommy half a second to figure out a plan. Sure, this wasn't the scenario he had in mind when he first conceived it, but it should still work.

  "Adele, get us out of commercial shipping lanes. Way out. Maximum burn if we have to, understood?"

  The pilot merely nodded and shifted the controls hard to port and toward deep space.

  Tommy hit the com to engineering. "Cody, I hope you had time to get your special surprise ready."

  "Yeah, but already? Isn't it a little early for piratical crap coming toward us?"

  "No time to explain. Just get them ready. I'm sending Harley down to the cargo hold to help," Tommy replied, sending the first officer that way with a glance.

  "Copy. Let's just pray it'll work."

  "Great," Tommy muttered, "where's the confidence from a few weeks ago?"

  ** ** **

  McDonald studied the maneuver for a moment, then commed, "Waco, you seeing this?"

  "Copy," he replied. "Looks like they're headed to deep space. Think they have jump capability on that tub?"

  "Negative. Too small. They must be planning something. Tighten up and slow up just a bit. Let's see what they're doing before we commit too hard."

  "Copy. Maybe they're just stupid?"

  "Oh, that would be great, but are we really that lucky?"

  "Probably not."

  ** ** **

  "We are out of shipping lanes," Adele said, breaking the tense silence on the bridge.

  "Thanks," Tommy replied absentmindedly. He was focused on the scope in front of him. The fighters had cut speed, but were still following them. That confirmed they were the target, but what were the pilots playing at? Caution, maybe? If so, that didn't make a lot of sense considering civilian transports weren't allowed to be armed, under any circumstances, so there was no way they could be considered a threat. Unless they didn't know…

  Tommy set the external coms to hail the fighters. "Attention unidentified fighters, you are currently pursuing the unarmed transport ship Sabercat, and Earth-flagged vessel now well outside of Ararat's orbitals. Please clarify your intentions."

  "Why are you doing that?" Adele asked.

  "Because if we're going to use the little surprises, I want it on the record that we had every reason to believe they had hostile intent…and maybe a bit more."

  Her dark hair bobbed forward in understanding as she focused on flying.

  Tense moments passed, and no reply from the fighters. "Attention unidentified fighters, this is the unarmed civilian transport ship Sabercat well outside of Ararat's orbitals. Our scopes show you to be Biermann Industry fighters, ships not used by anyone but Biermann Industries. Do you have hostile intentions?"

  Again, nothing.

  "For the last time, attention unidentified fighters, this is Sabercat. We are an unarmed civilian transport shipped, flagged Earth as our home port. You are pursuing us well outside of Ararat's orbitals. If you do not reply, we will consider you to have hostile intentions and take any means we can conceive of to defend ourselves. Do you understand? Please respond."

  Yet again, nothing. Not that Tommy was surprised in the least. Still, it had to be done. Especially since he'd hailed on the open channel, where every ship in the system would likely get the transmissions sooner or later.

  Eithe
r way, Biermann would be identified as killing Sabercat and one Tommy Reilly. Since Mother Dearest insisted on bringing Tommy back into the fold, that meant she would likely be put out with Sowards if he blew her baby boy into dust.

  Maybe.

  ** ** **

  Conway Reynolds watched his scope. Winter Born was a much stealthier ship for various reasons, and she had powerful sensors that picked up the Biermann fighters as soon as they took off. It didn't hurt that he was actually fairly close to the action to begin with.

  "Should we assist?" Turge, the first officer asked. His real name was, believe it or not, Turgid Schadenboner, a relic from a lost bet while his mother was pregnant. As a result, he was the least likely spacer to gamble. Still, a name with a story was rarely a bad thing.

  "Nope," Reynolds replied. "Reilly's smart. He'll get out of this. Or he won't. I know what he's working on, though, and if he can't make it, someone else will. Whoever it is will need what we have on here, though."

  The first mate bobbed his head in understanding.

  Reynolds watched the scope for a long moment, then said, "Let's make best speed to the station. And pray for them."

  ** ** **

  "Still nothing," Dianne asked from the hatch, causing Tommy to jump.

  "You should be in your cabin," he chided gently. Things had been a little busy, so he couldn't spend as much time with her as he'd have liked. The kiss in his cabin, then dinner, then…nothing. It felt wrong, and here they were, in danger.

  She smiled softly at him, as if telling him all was forgiven. "How much safer will I be in there?"

  "The crash nets will keep you a lot safer than if you're bouncing around up here," he said, unable to hide the fact that he was glad to see her despite the danger.