The Blunt End of the Service

by L. J. Simpson

  Army had already said his goodbyes to Chuck and Penny by the time he received Claude’s message. “Let me know when you get back to O1,” he said. “Safe journey back… and stay in touch!”

  “Will do,” said Penny. With Hector safely secured, Chuck broke away from Brannon’s Wharf and set course back to O1.

  As soon as the Valiant was safely away Army radioed Claude, telling him and the others to find a place to lie low for a while. Then he and Stan trotted back to their shuttle, locked the door and waited for the inevitable commotion to quieten down.

  Jacks cursed as the laid eyes on Fletcher, bound hand and foot inside the airlock of the Arrow. “What the hell happened?” he said, ripping the tape from Fletcher’s mouth.

  “Got jumped. There were four of them…”

  “Blast your eyes, man! How did you manage to get jumped?”

  “There was a girl… said she had a delivery…”

  “And you just opened the hatch and let her in? Jesus wept,” said Jacks, closing his eyes in disbelief. “And?”

  “Then three men showed up – armed. Two were miners, Conquest Minerals. The other, I don’t know, but I think his name was Chuck. That’s what one of them called him.”

  “Chuck…? Poulson! Damn him to hell!”

  “They took the core… Benedict too… I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry? You God-damned imbecile! I ought to shoot you here and now,” seethed Jacks. And he is on a hat-trick, Grey was tempted to say. Jacks leaned on the bulkhead, breathing heavily. Once he raised the pistol and Grey thought for a moment that he really would shoot Fletcher who was still trussed up like a chicken. Finally his anger subsided and he began to undo Fletcher’s bonds. As he did so a klaxon rang out around the station.

  “I’d say someone found our handiwork,” said Jacks.

  “Our handiwork?” said Grey.

  “Yours, mine… it’s all the same. All they’ll care about is that Saxman and one of their colleagues have been knocked off on their own patch. They’ll be looking for payback and I don’t think they’ll be much bothered about which one of us pulled the trigger. We’re rather in the same boat, Mr. Grey. I should get used to the idea if I were you. Time to leave, I think. Fletcher, get the Magellan underway and follow me. Grey, you have your own transport, I believe?”

  “That’s right, but where are we going?”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get my computer core back.”

  As Jacks and Grey left the Magellan a shout rang out from the security gate. “Stay where you are!” Jacks turned to see half a dozen armed guards jog-trotting their way.

  “Run for it,” said Jacks, raising his pistol. He fired half a dozen rounds at the guards but at that range his stealth weapon had little accuracy, most of his shots going high and wide. At least it temporarily halted their charge, his adversaries ducking behind cover. Seeing Grey enter his ship’s airlock Jacks fired a couple more rounds before darting for the entrance to the Arrow. As he ducked into the airlock a volley of shots clattered into the bulkhead behind him. Too close, he thought. Sealing the airlock, he ran to the flight deck and hurriedly disengaged the docking clamps. Disconnected from Brannon’s Wharf, the unpowered Arrow drifted slightly, inertia causing it to bump gently against the hull of the old freighter. Settling down in the pilot’s chair Jacks fired up the engines and manoeuvred away from the docking bay. Glancing left and right he saw both the Magellan and Grey’s yacht powering away from Brannon’s Wharf. As Jacks travelled down the length of the freighter he noticed the cockpit lights flicker on in the last but one ship in the line. That’s not particularly intelligent, he thought, swivelling the scout through forty five degrees so that each ship moored alongside Brannon’s Wharf swam slowly past his front screen as he passed by.

  The second to last ship in the line was a privately built gunboat, constructed loosely along the lines of a Belvedere class light patrol vessel. She sported an armoured flight deck, oversized power plant and a pair of J&P particle weapons. Ironically, Jacks had supplied the power plant – through a third party of course – in return for the Delph’s assistance in the removal of a maverick weapon’s dealer several years previously. As the Delph also did a brisk trade in weapons it was a deal that suited everyone.

  Jacks brought his own weapons online and waited patiently for the gunboat to drift across his gun-sights. As it did so he briefly thumbed the trigger on his control column, sending a stream of shells into the gunboat’s engine bay. There were several small explosions as the power cells lit off one by one and the gunboat’s cockpit immediately fell into darkness.

  Jacks was about to straighten up and set off in pursuit of the Valiant when the last ship in the line suddenly loomed to filled his gun-sights. It was Saxman’s private yacht, the Swift. It was far too tempting a target to pass up. With barely a moment’s hesitation he riddled the yacht from stem to stern, whooping with delight as it broke its back, the aft section cart-wheeling away into space.

  Then the smile faded and grim faced, he set course after the Valiant.

  CHAPTER 14

  A soon as the Valiant cleared Brannon’s Wharf, Chuck sent off a signal to O1. ‘Mission successful: On route to O1 with Hector and one prisoner’. In actual fact Chuck wasn’t entirely sure whether Benedict had been captured or liberated; he certainly hadn’t seemed keen on staying behind on so it was probably the latter, though someone else would have to figure that one out.

  Chuck sat back in the pilot’s chair and risked closing his eyes for a few seconds. With Penny in the co-pilot’s seat and Hector jammed inside the airlock, Benedict was perched on the steps leading down to the empty weapons bay.

  Chuck was mightily relieved to have made it away from Brannon’s Wharf, and even more relieved that they’d done so in one piece. Now, back in familiar surroundings he began to relax a little. There was something comforting about the Valiant – the threadbare seats, the worn paintwork; it made him feel safe and secure, though he knew that it was just an illusion, just like when he used to shut his eyes tight as a small child, imagining that he could shut out all the horrors of the world. The thought made him jerk his eyes open again.

  “I’ve been looking at the pamphlet we got from that preacher,” said Penny. “It’s quite interesting if you believe in all that stuff. Got some lovely pictures in it too. Look.”

  “Yeah…very nice,” said Chuck. “Where is it?”

  “Heaven, of course.”

  “Really? Let’s have a look then,” said Chuck, holding out his hand. Penny passed over the pamphlet on the front of which was a large color picture of a broad meadow of lush, green grass which stretched into the distance, merging into foothills stepped with towering pine trees behind which rose a range of majestic, snow capped mountains. In the foreground a young couple and their children sat in the shade of a handsome oak tree, laughing gaily as they watched a group of rabbits frolic besides a stream which bubbled merrily on its course towards some heavenly ocean. A scene of peace and tranquility. Beneath the picture was the simple legend, ‘Paradise awaits’.

  “Smashing place to spend eternity, don’t you think?” said Penny.

  Chuck shrugged. “Not sure about that, to be perfectly honest. Nice place for a picnic but all eternity? Hmm, don’t think so. Couple of weeks of that and you’ll be bored to death. I mean, what are you supposed to do all day? Do a bit of fishing? Go for a hike in the mountains? Watch the rabbits at play? And speaking of rabbits, do you have any idea how fast those critters breed? In a couple of years those half dozen bunnies will be in their thousands, so unless God’s plan includes eating rabbit stew three times a day you’re going to be up to your knees in rabbit poop before you can say, well… Jack Rabbit. Not my idea of heaven at all.”

  “There’s a picture of hell inside, if you’re interested.”

  “Don’t tell me. Fire and brimstone, great flames everywhere, hoards of screaming evil-doers all scrunched up together, roasting away in a huge sat
anic inferno.” Chuck flicked through a couple of pages and held up the image of hell. “See, got it in one.”

  “I’m not sure that you’re supposed to take the pictures at face value, sir. I think they’re just symbolic.”

  “Symbolic of what?”

  “I don’t know,” said Penny. “Everyone has their own idea of heaven. Perhaps you get to choose your own.”

  “That’s never going to work, is it?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because most people you meet don’t know what they want, apart from the obvious fact that they want something better than they already have, and if at all possible, better than everyone else has too. And the worst of it is that if you give them something better they still won’t be satisfied. It’s basic human nature, so your average man in the street won’t even be satisfied with heaven, which is probably why I can only see four in this picture. There seem to be an awful lot of people in hell, though. That should tell you something.”

  “Hmm… So what’s your vision of heaven then?”

  “To be perfectly honest, right now I’ll settle for being back on O1 without Jacks, Burns, Giles and everyone else making my life a darned misery.”

  “You don’t ask for much sir, do you?”

  “Paradise is where you find it, Penny. I learned that a long time ago.”

  “Well you might have to wait a while,” said Penny. “We’re being followed.”

  “How far behind?”

  “About fifteen minutes. Three ships.”

  “Three?”

  “Yes, and one with no transponder… It must be Jacks.”

  “How much fuel do we have left?”

  “Taking off what we need for braking and docking, maybe twenty five percent. Speed up a bit?”

  “Take her to the red line,” said Chuck

  Jacks watched the old gunboat begin to pull away and weighed up his options. The Valiant was just at the extreme range of his guns. He could open fire but at this distance he was just as likely to blow it to pieces as disable it. He could increase his own speed and close the target but with only three working power cells he’d run the risk of running out of fuel. Neither option appealed to him but there was another. He turned to the com station and opened up a secure channel to Marine Dobbs.

  Orbital One

  Marine 1st Class Dobbs laid out his equipment on the floor of his quarters and began his weekly inventory check. Field pack, one. Bedroll, one. Personal hygiene kit, one. Water bottle, one. Field rations packs, three. Spare set of fatigues, one. Spare socks, three. Emergency bivouac, one. Hostile environment survival kit, one. Set of battle armour – helmet, chest plate, thigh pads, shin pads, one. Med-kit, one. Camouflage paints, one. Night vision goggles, one. Enfield Mk7 battle rifle, one. Spare magazines, six. Weapons servicing kit, one. Field communications array, one. He went through his kit counting off each item with his right forefinger. Just as the digit reached the communications array the green ‘message received’ light blinked on and the device began to buzz. Spooky, he thought. A minute later he had read and digested Jacks’ communiqué.

  “On your feet, Burke. We’ve work to do,” he said, donning his battle armour and tightening his straps. Picking up his Mk7 he checked his ammunition and then turned to face Burke. “Ready?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Lock and load.”

  Commander Jacobs was just finishing up a report of the day’s proceedings when his office door swung open and Marine Dobbs strode purposefully inside.

  “Did you perhaps forget to knock, marine?” inquired Jacobs.

  “Beg pardon, sir, but I have orders to take you into custody.”

  “Have you indeed? On what authority?”

  “I must ask you to come with me right now, commander,” said Dobbs, stiffening his stance and raising the muzzle of his rifle so that it was no longer pointing at the floor. In marine parlance this roughly translated to ‘Don’t mess with me’.

  “Very well,” said Jacobs. He left the office to find the bulk of the Ops crew standing in line with their hands on their heads, all under the watchful gaze of Marine Burke. “If this is anything to do with Commodore Jacks–”

  “I must ask you to be quite and follow me, commander. This will all be resolved as soon as the proper authorities arrive. Until then I have my orders.”

  “Which are?”

  “To place everyone on the station under arrest… and shoot anyone who resists.”

  When they arrived at the brig they were separated into groups and ushered into the cells. Jacobs found himself in the company of Burns and Mullins who were already in captivity. Burns had a thoughtful look on his face. Mullins had a broken nose from which blood was still flowing freely.

  “What happened to you?” said Jacobs.

  “Walked into a rifle butt,” grunted Mullins.

  “Boys will be boys,” said Burns. “Have all of your men been rounded up, commander?”

  “All except Archie, I think. He was on duty in Ops. Any idea what’s going on?”

  “Jacks would appear to have allies.”

  “I didn’t see Lt. Primrose,” said Jacobs. “Wonder where she is?”

  “And more to the point,” said Burns. “Whose side is she on?”

  Primrose had been in her office when Jacks’ message arrived. It was addressed to Marine Dobbs but her com picked up the message and she had the codes to decrypt it. She tapped in the necessary commands and the message appeared on the screen.

  From: Commodore D. R. Jacks.

  To: Marine Detachment, Orbital One.

  Authorization: PQZ24

  Message: Set condition red. Existence of terrorist cell aboard O1 confirmed. Take station personnel into custody and hold until further notice.

  Gunboat Valiant presently on course for Orbital One. ETA: 40 minutes. Detain crew and impound cargo on arrival. Crew is armed and to be considered hostile. Use of deadly force is authorised.

  Extent of terrorist infiltration as yet unknown – disregard any conflicting orders pending my arrival.

  Notify on completion of mission. Stout hearts.

  Message ends.

  Primrose read the communiqué, slipped out of the office and disappeared down the corridor towards Bravo Section.

  After securing the brig, Dobbs and Burke ran up the stairway towards Ops. Dobbs was a troubled marine. Charged with securing the station and seizing the crew and contents of the Valiant he was faced with an uncompromising tactical situation. In an ideal world he’d have a rifle section at his disposal. He’d leave a man to look after the brig and another one or two in Ops. The remainder he’d lead against the Valiant. He’d divide his team into an assault force and a covering formation and the years of training would see to the rest. But he didn’t have a rifle section, just Burke and himself. Another problem was the whereabouts of Lt. Primrose. Where had she got to? He’d put a call out for her but received no response. Was she in trouble or was she part of the insurgency? Dobbs didn’t know and didn’t have the time or the resources to find out.

  What were the choices? After securing Ops either he or Burke could remain there, leaving the other to tackle the Valiant alone. He’d prefer to go after the Valiant himself but that would mean leaving Burke in charge of Ops and effectively in charge of the station. Burke was a good marine, highly disciplined and steady in a fight, but his brain was incapable of processing anything that wasn’t explicitly written down in the marine’s handbook or on the back of his hand. He wasn’t one for thinking on his feet – or in any other position for that matter – so leaving him in charge of the station would serve no useful purpose and also be a waste of resources. Plainly, the best course of action would be for them both to tackle the Valiant together whilst somehow leaving Ops secure, preferably without shooting the ops officer in the head. He might well be one of the bad guys, but then again he might not. It would be a pity knock off an innocent man, orders or no.

  Archie Andrews was beginning to wonder where everyon
e had got to. Chuck and Penny would be arriving before long and he still didn’t know what Commander Jacobs and Inspector Burns planned to do. Not only that, his relief was late. Baz should have been here ten minutes ago. That was unusual; Baz might not always know which buttons to press but he usually arrived in time to press them punctually. At last the door opened and Baz walked in – except it wasn’t Baz, unless Baz had suddenly taken to wearing battle armour and carrying a piece of heavy artillery under his arm.

  “What’s up?” said Archie.

  “The station is in lock down,” said Marine Burke.

  “Why? Where’s Commander Jacobs?”

  “That’s not your concern,” said Dobbs. “There is a ship approaching.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s the Valiant. Chuck and Penny–”

  “The Valiant has been commandeered by terrorists. You will instruct it to dock in Hangar 1 in Alpha Section where we will apprehend the crew. If you attempt to aid the Valiant in any way there will be severe consequences. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah… got it,” said Archie.

  “How many ways are there in and out of Hangar 1?”

  “I’m not sure,” said Archie, “A whole bunch – the main exit, access to the fuel store, the workshops, service tunnels…”

  “I want them sealed off, all except the main doors. Do it now,” said Dobbs. He watched as Archie brought up the relevant screen and started punching in the commands. “Burke, get over there and wait for the ship to dock. Set up your perimeter at the main hangar door. I should be there before the ship arrives. If I'm not, apprehend the crew if possible but on no account let them out of the hangar. Take no chances and do not hesitate to take them down. Stay on the com at all times. Clear?” Burke simply nodded and set off for Alpha Section.

  “We’re leaving him behind,” said Penny.

  “Good news at last,” replied Chuck. “Then again, he knows exactly where we’re going – he just has to follow us in. I just hope the guys back at O1 have a decent reception laid on.”