Soldiers of Fortune

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Soldiers of Fortune Page 13

by Joshua Dalzelle


  At exactly fifteen minutes before their scheduled meeting time, Dowarty, escorted by two enforcers, walked in and looked about. He spotted them almost immediately and made his way over to their table. Jason was struck by how confident the man was as he crossed the crowded bar area, quite the opposite from his passive, servile attitude while onboard the Phoenix. Maybe he likes to strut around when the bosses are away. It did add a level of credence to the theory that they had been carrying some high-ranking bosses on the flight out there.

  “Captain!” Dowarty greeted as he approached. “How good to see you again so soon.”

  “Likewise,” Jason said in a non-committal tone. “Please, have a seat. All of you.”

  “Just me, I’m afraid,” the small man said as he sat down. “My associates don’t much care for sitting, or talking, while on the clock. Now then, at the behest of my superiors, I’m here to offer you another job. Should you decide to take it, the pay will be quite substantial. Assuming you succeed, of course.”

  “Of course. Another ferrying job for your hooded passengers?”

  “Oh no, I’m afraid not,” Dowarty said, actually sounding apologetic. “This will be quite a bit more dangerous and will likely involve the exchange of hostilities.”

  “About time,” Crusher said quietly, watching the two enforcers carefully. Dowarty smiled indulgently, if not a bit condescendingly.

  “Indeed,” he said before turning back to Jason. “This would normally be handled by one of our regular crews, people we’ve vetted thoroughly and trust. However, time is of the essence and we simply have no way to reposition one of our own crews in time, so my boss wants to see if you guys are any good. They have, of course, been tracking your movements since you’ve entered the Cluster… can’t be too careful when it comes to new faces coming around peddling stolen wares, after all. There is also the additional factor that you don’t really know who it is you’re working for, so if you get caught it would be impossible for you to turn on them.

  “This will be a simple grab and dash. The only thing unique is that it will be from a ship that’s underway. Is that something your crew and that worn-out ship can handle?”

  “Not an issue,” Jason replied evenly. “Of course, we usually like to work for people we’ve thoroughly vetted and trust. Can’t be too careful when it comes to working for new people, after all. What assurances do we have this is on the level? I’d rather not fly into a trap.”

  “I’m authorized to offer you none. This is a take it or leave it proposition,” Dowarty answered. “You’ll receive an upfront payment as a show of good faith, but that is all I can give you. I’m sorry, Captain, but my employers are paranoid individuals. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I can relate, if that’s what you mean,” Jason agreed. “I’m assuming you don’t want to go over the details here in a bar…”

  “Of course not,” Dowarty gave him that same smile he gave Crusher. Despite the assumed mannerisms of a boot-licking underling, Jason got the distinct impression the little man was looking down his nose at them. He slid a memory chip across the table. “This contains all the information you’ll need, including the access codes to receive your initial payment. If you take the chip, and agree to the terms, we’ll know by your ship lifting off at a precise time. If not, no harm done; there’s no way to glean anything from the information on that chip.

  “However, and I can’t stress this enough, if you decide not to take the job… walk away. If you accept the initial payment and run, if you warn the target in an attempt to get a higher fee from them, or if you try to alert the authorities in any way; my employers will hunt you down and blow your ship out of the sky with you in it. This is not a threat, Captain, but a standing policy for all those who work for the people I do. I hope you’ll take that seriously… for your sake.”

  “We’re professionals. As I said on my ship: there’s no need for theatrics or melodramatic threats,” Jason affixed the little man with a cold stare. “We’ll look over the details. If we decide to take the job, you’ll know. If not… you’ll probably never see us again. Now, is that everything I need to know?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course it is, Captain,” Dowarty again assumed the role of the subservient nobody. “Thank you for your time.” With that he rose from his seat and made a hasty exit with his two guards close behind. Jason flagged over a server and ordered a drink, indicating for the others to do the same. He palmed the memory chip and slipped it into his pocket.

  “We’ll stay here a bit,” he explained. “You never know who is watching and I’d rather not be seen leaving with them. We may be unknown, but I doubt the same is true of our little friend there.”

  “He seemed to swing between cowering in fear and outright threats. I found that a bit odd,” Doc said.

  “I noticed that too. It’s not that unusual for someone in his position to try and bully someone he thinks is of lower standing, I’m sure he gets pushed around all day and wanted to see what it felt like to do the pushing,” Jason said as their drinks arrived.

  “Maybe,” Crusher said. “Still a little strange that on the flight out he was a glorified butler and once we’re here he’s calling us out to meetings and arranging contracts.”

  “Let’s not think too much into it,” Jason said. “He only delivered the chip, he wasn’t out here negotiating terms. But, this may be an inroads to what we’re looking for. Anyway, let’s drink up and get back to the ship. I want to go over this tonight and see what we may be potentially getting ourselves into.”

  The three finished off their overpriced drinks and got up to leave. As they were walking out, Jason could see that the crowd had become thicker and more intoxicated since they had arrived. They almost made it to the landing pad to catch an aircar back to the spaceport before there was an incident. Apparently Sparks was in an entertainment district that was frequented by young, wealthy citizens of Solic-2 that had more money than sense. As Jason approached the last remaining car on the pad an obnoxious, nasally voice called out.

  “Excuse you, that is our car!” Jason turned and gave the driver an inquiring look, who simply shrugged and shook his head. Ignoring the obviously drunk catcaller, he went to pay the driver and get in. “I saaaid… that is our car! Are you deaf?” Jason turned and saw four stumbling, very young men making their way towards them.

  “I’m only going to say this once,” Jason said irritably. “If you four morons walk away now, I’ll let you.”

  “Let us?!” The speaker laughed hysterically. “There’s four of us, and two of you.” Jason frowned and looked around. Can they not count? Then he saw that Doc was already on the other side of the aircar, obviously intent on grabbing the front seat again. He was sadly shaking his head at what was about to befall the four dullards who had made their way quite close at that point. “Now… get out of our way. We’re taking this car,” the speaker was slurring his words and weaving badly. Jason looked to Crusher, who had an amused look on his face as he watched things play out. Jason sighed at the inevitable.

  “Why don’t you idiots sit here, sober up, and wait for the next one? I’m really very busy,” Jason said in a reasonable tone. He had no desire to hurt any of the misguided fools. The “leader” stepped in close to him and poked him in the chest.

  “Why don’t you…” That was all he got out as Jason, lightning fast, reached with his right hand, grabbed the offending wrist from underneath, and wrenched it back and over with enough force to throw the boorish dimwit to the tarmac. He howled in pain and grabbed his arm, nearly sobbing. With his enhanced strength, Jason probably could have torn the arm from its socket, but he wasn’t going to maim some kid who’d only had too much to drink. He was, however, going to teach him a lesson in etiquette.

  “Steppen!” One of the others squealed. The group, having lost its leader, and its bluster, milled around, unsure what to do. Crusher decided to make the choice for them; he lunged forward and let loose with a deafening roar that left Jason’s ears ringi
ng. The remaining three decided it was every man for himself and bolted, leaving “Steppen” rolling and moaning on the ground. Jason could hear Doc laughing out of his right ear. He could hear nothing out of his left ear save for a loud ringing.

  “I really wish you’d give some sort of warning before you do that,” Jason said to Crusher irritably. Crusher just smiled and shrugged. Jason leaned down to the still moaning youth. “Tough night, huh? You’ll be fine… you just need to learn some manners.” He stepped over him and into the car, waiting for Crusher to get in on the other side. Once they were all in, the driver, also chuckling, whisked them away and back to the spaceport.

  * * * * *

  “This is a lot more complex than your simple smash and grab,” Kage quipped as the rest of the crew sat around the table in the tiny meeting room directly aft of the bridge on the port side of the command deck. They were going over the information on the chip and weighing the options available to them. The room had a standalone computer that mitigated the risk of malicious software making its way onto the ship’s main computer.

  “You can say that again,” Twingo said. “This is absurd, Captain. We’re supposed to run this ship down, unseen, board it, and try and find a box of antiques to steal?”

  “I’d hardly call last remaining artifacts from the Talisian Empire a box of antiques…” Doc began before Twingo waved him off.

  “Whatever, Doc. No matter who it used to belong to, it’s still just a box full of old crap now.”

  “The point isn’t what’s in the box,” Jason reminded them. “This is a means to an end. We steal the box of old crap, garner favor with whichever eccentric crime boss wanted it, and maybe we get closer to wrapping this mission up. Or at least providing some useful intel.”

  “Do we even have the technical ability to pull this off?” Lucky asked quietly.

  “Yes,” Twingo said, reluctantly. “Our countermeasure suite is more than able to hide our approach to a civilian luxury yacht like that,” he indicated to the sleek ship slowly rotating on the display. “We just slip in under low power, override one of their emergency airlocks--that’s your job, Kage-- and we’re in. But how do we find the item?”

  “The chip contained detailed layouts of the ship’s interior, including the likely location of the box,” Jason said. “Oddly enough, it also had the ship’s duty cycle rotation. Whoever put this together has been on board that ship and has been planning this for some time.”

  “Either that or we’re flying into a trap,” Twingo muttered.

  “Or that,” Jason was forced to agree. “But, we don’t have any other promising leads right now. Nobody said this was going to be easy, we are being paid a lot of money for this.”

  “Weren’t we supposed to be helping out the little guy when we all signed up for this outfit?” Twingo asked, trying a different tactic. “Why are we out here risking our collective asses to help out the Eshquarian government? They’re one of the richest systems in this part of the galaxy.”

  “There are innocent people on Eshquaria as well, Twingo,” Jason asserted weakly. The feisty little engineer did have a point; Omega Force had formed with an overarching mandate to help out the people who didn’t have the ability to help themselves. An ultra-wealthy system of arms manufacturers didn’t really fit into that ideal. “But beyond that, we all know that the money Crisstof Dalton is paying us will go a long way in making sure we can keep helping out the little guy. All that loot we stole from The Vault… that huge fortune was squandered because we’ve been forced to change our identities, and the Phoenix's, multiple times.

  “We’re going to do this our usual way. We’ll take off at the prescribed time and make the intercept, but if we don’t like the way it looks… we bolt. As a precaution, we’ll not be cashing in the advance bonus just yet. So, if there’s nothing else… grab some food and sleep and get ready. We launch in twelve hours.” They all stood to leave when Jason put his hand on Kage’s shoulder to stop him. “I want you to transcribe the data into the ship’s computer manually. I know it seemed to come up clean, but I don’t want to take the chance of plugging that chip into our systems.” The small Veran grumbled, but went to work immediately. Jason smiled as he left him to it. His species had an especially evolved cerebral cortex that could process and store the information as fast as a computer, and Kage had the added benefit of a slew of exotic neural implants to help him out.

  Jason saw Doc was on the bridge, immersed in something on one of the displays and looking like he didn’t want to be disturbed. He walked down the stairs to the main deck and saw Lucky and Twingo walking together towards the engineering compartments and Crusher sitting in the galley getting ready to eat. He walked over to grab something himself and join his friend.

  “So what do you think, Crusher?” Jason asked as he programmed the processor for what he wanted.

  “Seems easy enough,” he rumbled, sitting with a tray of his usual bland (although nutritious) fare. “Which means it will go to hell the minute we step foot on that ship, if we don’t get blasted on our initial approach.” Jason grabbed his tray and walked over to the table.

  “That’s what I love about you, Crusher: your eternal optimism.”

  “I do what I can, Captain,” he said with a short, barking laugh.

  “That you do…” Jason replied thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve been around warriors for most of my adult life, or at least people who considered themselves warriors, and I can’t recall a single one who behaved like you.”

  “In what way?”

  “A lot of them are uptight assholes,” Jason began. “Well, that’s maybe unfair to most of them... I guess what I’m trying to say is that when you’re not bashing in some poor bastard’s head, you’re one of the most polite people I’ve ever been around.” While he said it he realized, if taken wrong, how wildly offensive it sounded. Crusher looked over Jason’s head, chewing slowly.

  “On my world, there are thousands like me. The warrior caste of my people has been developed into what we feel is the perfect soldier, but that process wasn’t without its problems,” Crusher put down his food and looked to be willing to open up a bit. Jason sat stock still with rapt fascination as he began, Crusher rarely talked about his past, or his lineage. “The first few generations were physically impressive, and had the aggression and mindless courage to be good cannon fodder, but they were hardly a cohesive fighting force. Not only that, but they were a danger to the very population they were supposed to be protecting.

  “The next phase was much more successful; even more improved physical prowess but with a sharper intellect and a capacity for empathy. As the warrior caste became more and more powerful, we developed our own culture and way of relating to each other as well as members of the other castes. At first I think it may have been driven by self-interest; our government would have forcibly exiled us had we posed much of a threat to the others.”

  “You talk about your kind like I would expect Lucky to describe his; versions and modifications and such,” Jason said.

  “In a way you’re right. It took much, much longer, but our scientists improved us by trial and error much like his designers. Anyway, when it got to the point that fights between us usually ended in at least one fatality, we began to adopt an almost formal way of relating to each other. It keeps the bloodshed to a minimum,” Crusher smiled slightly and continued eating. Jason also continued with his meal and thought about the hulking alien’s tale. He wasn’t sure if he should feel sympathetic or not; Crusher was made to be exactly how he was with no choice to be anything else despite the obvious mental capacity for so much more. But, then again… being raised from birth to be a soldier, and coming from a long, long line of soldiers, would he choose to be anything else?

  “That’s why I like it so much here,” Crusher said again, startling Jason a bit. “Although I’m still a warrior, the choice is now mine as to what I fight for. But what about you? Were you not a warrior among your own people? Do you see yourself
as a… uptight asshole, was it?” Jason spit out some water laughing at that last bit.

  “I was well trained, yes, and I was put in harm’s way more times than I can remember… but my role was primarily to save lives. I guess I never tried to figure out exactly where I fit in.”

  “You certainly have a warrior’s spirit, and you’re crazy enough to let it make decisions for you,” Crusher said with another rare smile. “I like that.” From him, there was no higher praise.

  “Thanks, I’ll take that the compliment I’m sure you intended it as,” Jason said as he stood up and placed his tray on the counter. “I’m hitting the rack for a few hours of sleep. Good talk.”

  “Sleep well, Captain.”

  * * * * *

  The Phoenix was pushing up through the thermosphere of Solic-2 exactly on schedule, thus entering a tacit agreement to perform the job they’d been tasked with. Jason still had no intention of unnecessarily risking anyone’s life, so if it looked impossible without major bloodshed, he would call it off no matter the consequences.

  “Everything’s green,” Kage said. “Slip-drive is primed and ready to jump on your command. Coordinates are already programmed in.” Jason looked down at one of his displays and saw the nav system had their pre-designated coordinates already plugged in. They were slightly different than the set that was provided by Dowarty and would allow them to jump in at a distance and reconnoiter the surrounding space before committing fully. They were relying on the Phoenix's speed in real space to get them in position when they needed to be there.

 

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