by B. V. Larson
“I can’t promise that, but it’s a possibility. Once these near-term operations are over, you can leave or stay as you wish. Until then, you’re under my command. Agreed?”
The largest held out his hand to be clasped. “Captain Straker, the Ritter brothers are with you. I’m Aldrik, this is Bernhard, and the little one is Conrad.”
“Good. You have any military experience beyond your recent training?”
“We are freeholders, Captain. All of us receive military training from a young age… but our only experience was a losing battle against the Hok.”
“Good enough. I’m making you sergeants. You’ll report to First Sergeant Heiser here. I have a job for you. Follow me, keep your mouths shut, and do what I tell you.”
“Jawohl, Herr Kapitän.”
“Yah what?”
“Sorry, Captain. Sometimes we lapse into the old tongue.”
“One of the pre-Earthan ones? Like American or Español?”
“Yes, sir. This one is called Deutsch, or German in modern Earthan.”
Straker slapped Aldrik on the shoulder. “I’ve heard of it. Your ancestors were a great people. But stick to Earthan for now. Your accent is funny enough as it is. Follow me.” He turned to lead them toward the hold. “And get these men stunners,” he told one of the crew.
“I don’t have an accent,” Aldrik said from behind him. “Everyone else has an accent, ja?”
When Straker reached Hold Number One, he met Captain Gibson and four of his crew, nervously clutching laser pistols. “Open both holds, numbers One and Two. We have to speed things up.”
“But sir,” Gibson said, “there will be twice as many people to control. If things get out of hand…”
Straker loosened his pistol in its holster. “Be ready to stun them and slam the doors shut…but if that happens, I’ll have failed. With this group, at least. Now open them up.”
The two doors to the cramped Holds One and Two were so close together, Straker could speak into both of them at once. When they opened, he could see about forty men and women in each. They sat or knelt against the wall, for the ceiling was too low to stand. Dim light showed faces, all curious as to what was happening.
“I’m Captain Derek Straker, your liberator,” he said, loudly and proudly. “I impersonated Inquisitor Lazarus’ voice to separate out the scumbags that wanted to torture people and keep sex slaves. What better way than to let them identify themselves by volunteering?”
He laughed then, as if he’d told a fine joke.
Some of the people in the holds laughed as well, nervously, glancing at each other.
Straker went on, “My goal is to oppose tyranny and free those who’ve been enslaved. I want to make a place where people can be free. Eventually, I’ll overthrow the Mutuality system and liberate all humans and friendly aliens.”
“What if we don’t want to join you?” said one man in the front.
“I’m going to let anyone return to the Mutuality who wants to. The life I offer you is a hard one. If you join me, some of you may die in battle, but at least you’ll die free. Each of you must choose for yourself.”
The group hesitated, surprised.
“Don’t look at your neighbors!” Straker boomed at them. “They can’t choose for you! If you want to go back to your oppressors, leave your gear and come out, hands raised, single file. You’ll be put aboard lifeboats to be picked up within hours. But if you want to be a free man or woman under my command, stay where you are.”
Some immediately rose to a bent-over positions and dumped their equipment on the floor to come out, hands spread. Others followed more slowly, until there were no more volunteers to return. The rest stayed in place.
Out of more than eighty, some thirty had chosen to return to the Mutuality. Straker noticed with satisfaction that they were almost all male, as he had hoped, though he wasn’t surprised. The camps were doubly hard on females. He couldn’t imagine many women wanting to risk another bout of “re-education.” Those that did… perhaps they had children they wanted to return to. Their choice.
“Captain Gibson, show them to the lifeboats and help them launch.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Gibson said with satisfaction, gesturing to the loyalists to begin walking. Since these would survive to be recovered by the incoming destroyer, the freighter captain was obviously much more comfortable with this task.
Turning to Aldrik Ritter, the oldest of the brothers and obviously their leader, he said, “You know most of these people? Their strengths, their weaknesses?”
“Among us three, yes, we know many.”
“I need you to take a look at everyone. Stun and bring out anyone you wouldn’t trust to fight beside you. I don’t want criminals, cowards or spies with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Ritter brothers found nobody meeting Straker’s criteria in Hold One, but they dragged out one man from Hold Two.
Aldrik said, “This one is Morton. He’s a snitch. He sold out a dozen people for minor infractions in order to gain the favor of the guards and Inquisitors.” Aldrik lifted his eyes to Straker. “Shall we kill him?”
Straker smiled coldly. “No. Put him with the loyalists and tell them what you told me. They deserve each other.”
Aldrik showed his teeth.
* * *
Straker repeated the winnowing process with Holds Three through Ten. At the end of it, he had almost two hundred and ninety potential infantry and had gotten rid of most of his troublemakers. The results were, he had a regiment that was nearly half women.
He didn’t care about gender balance when it came to fighting. He’d use whoever he had available for as long as necessary. But after this operation was over—assuming it was successful and Straker survived—he would have to lead not just a regiment, not just a ragtag squadron of freebooter ships, but a free society that would grow, eventually producing children.
For that, there had to be roughly the same number of women as men, a base from which to build, made up of people there by choice. His experience with the Unmutuals and their pillaging had shown him that a force of hardcore fighters with no homes and families to anchor them was asking for trouble.
After passing final instructions to Zaxby, who commanded the Revenge in his stead despite Freenix’s objections, Straker ordered the two ships separated. He and his three men would stay aboard the Lockstep for now. He’d asked Gibson if he wanted to rename the vessel, but he’d declined. There were worse names for a ship than Lockstep, he supposed.
“The destroyer has launched a shipkiller missile,” the sensor officer said, his voice tightening to a squeak. “I think it’s aimed at the Revenge, not us.”
“Impacting when?” Gibson snapped.
“Nine minutes.”
“Plenty of time,” said Straker. “Zaxby, you hear me?”
“That is not the proper ship-to-ship protocol, Captain Straker. You should say, ‘Lockstep to Revenge, Lockstep to Revenge, do you read?’ and then I say—”
“I’m in charge and I make the protocol, Lieutenant Zaxby! Now move away and transit into sidespace like I told you, unless you want to welcome that shipkiller personally. We’ll meet you at the rendezvous.”
“Aye aye, Captain Straker—which is the proper response, I might add.”
“Wonderful. Get moving.”
“Are you certain you don’t want us to use an underspace attack profile to destroy that destroyer? Oh, that’s a bit of ironic wordplay, isn’t it? A destroyer being destroyed. It would do wonders for crew morale.”
Straker’s voice hardened. “There’s no reason to risk our Archer against a warship just for morale purposes. Besides, the Mutuality personnel in the lifeboats would be witnesses. We don’t want anyone suspecting that we have an underspace vessel, or what it can do. Just transit into sidespace. Get going, now!”
“There’s no need to yell. A little courtesy goes a long way, or so you humans say.”
“Zaxby—”
“
Transitioning now.” Revenge winked out.
“Missile still inbound. It appears it has changed targets to acquire us.”
Straker put his hands behind his back. “Gibson, you may jump when ready.”
A moment later, the screens turned gray with sidespace and Straker silently let out his breath. The first phase of his plan was over with.
Now came the hard part.
Chapter 34
Heading for Freiheit to right some wrongs.
Now that Lockstep was cruising safely in sidespace, Straker got back on the public address system to speak with his new troops. “I have good news and bad news, ladies and gentlemen. The good news is the crew will be reconfiguring the holds to give you standing room and more deck space, now that there are far fewer of you. The bad news is, the trip will take longer—about nine days instead of three—and it’s going to strain our resources. Rations and hygiene facilities will be short. When we arrive, you’ll be going into battle within hours.”
Straker could imagine the initial cheering and then the grumbling his words would bring. He hoped the relief of being out of Mutuality hands would keep morale high. Along with the training program Heiser had planned, it would stave off any serious problems.
That, and the oldest human recreational activity of all.
“First Sergeant Heiser and his noncoms will be coming around to get you organized into squads and platoons. They’ll appoint sergeants and corporals from among you and schedule training. I’ll be briefing you on our mission in detail. Until then, take heart in the knowledge that you’ll be freeing more of those in thrall to tyrants, and you’ll be seizing a home for yourselves. Remember, this is a military organization, and I expect you all to act with discipline and common decency.” He turned off the public address.
“You’re getting to be quite the charismatic speaker, sir,” said Heiser. “But if I may speak freely…”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“You explain too much. It makes you look wishy-washy and insecure. Just tell them what to do.”
“I never liked that method when I was a cadet, or a cherry lieutenant.”
“Nobody does when they’re on the bottom and in the dark, sir. But if you get them thinking, then they’ll think. It’s not good for the common soldier to think too hard. They might start thinking how they know better than you. Or their First Sergeant.”
“Point taken. I’ll try to cut down on the verbiage, but despite what I said, this is more than a military unit. It’s the foundation of a free society. It’s not going to be as clean and simple as an infantry regiment.”
Heiser shook his head. “You’re the boss.”
“Yes, I am.” Straker slapped the big man’s shoulder. “But you keep telling me what you think. Don’t be a yes-man, and I won’t be an asshole. Deal?”
“Roger wilco, sir.”
Straker winked. “That’s ‘aye aye,’ Heiser. You’re a marine now.”
“Uh… sir, please don’t make me talk like a swabbie.”
“Just kidding. Use your best judgment. I trust you.”
Heiser took a big breath and let it out. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be getting to work now.”
“Dismissed.”
Shortly after Heiser left, Straker saw a woman, not young but certainly not old, step onto the bridge. She moved like one of the eye-candy on Shangri-La, though she was older, in her late thirties. She was dressed in a provocative red silk sheath, slit from hem to hip, with matching slippers. With long blonde hair, plump lips, and a chest that made everyone in the room stare, she seemed as out-of-place as a rose in a dung heap.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“She’s the Inquisitor’s concubine,” Captain Gibson answered for her. “In all the excitement I forgot about her.”
“Concubine? Is that like a slave?”
Gibson frowned. “Pretty much. No different from the rest of the Mutuality. If someone with power wants you to do a job, you do the job or get sent to a camp. That includes… personal services.”
“I’m a Tachina.” The woman’s bold gaze speared Straker.
“A Tachina? Not just Tachina?”
She shrugged. “Tachina-119, if you like. I’m a clone.”
Straker nodded with compressed lips. “Miss Tachina, your Lazarus is dead. You’re free now.”
Tachina mimed sadness. “He wasn’t a bad man.”
Straker didn’t contradict her, though to his mind, all the Lazaruses were bad men.
Gibson spoke. “Ah, Captain Straker, will you be taking the Inquisitor’s quarters? It’s the best stateroom we have.”
“Not very equal or mutual, hmm?” said Straker. “No, just give me a standard stateroom. Let the lady stay there.”
“There is no empty stateroom for you. The Inquisitors’ is the only one not occupied by my crew. We could put her in with the troops, of course.”
Straker gazed thoughtfully at the woman. No doubt she was a pampered thing, used to ease and comfort. Given her looks, she could be an incitement to riot. He could order she do something to make her look ordinary—like shave her head and put on a coverall, perhaps—but his natural sympathy stopped him from seriously considering that.
“There are two bunks in the Inquisitor’s stateroom?”
“No,” said Gibson. “She sleeps on a pallet on the floor.”
Straker growled. There went an easy solution: swapping crew around. Then again, the troops were sleeping on the deck, so… “Captain Gibson, my apologies, but please have two of your crew move into the Inquisitor’s former stateroom. Miss Tachina and I will take the cabins they move out of. My men will stay with the troops.”
“That won’t work either, sir. Other than the Inquisitor, I’m the only one with a private cabin. My crew are already doubled up this trip.”
“Oh, hell.” Straker chewed the inside of his cheek. “Can you reconfigure the holds to create a private area, enough to sleep four?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do it. Miss Tachina here can stay where she is. I’ll bunk with my own men. Put four pallets in there too, and make sure the doors can be opened from the inside.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Gibson passed his orders.
“You could stay with me, Captain… Straker, did he call you?” said Tachina, padding slowly toward him like a cat stalking prey. Her perfume reached his nose, a delicate, musky scent.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Straker replied. Every nerve had snapped to attention, and the other men on the bridge seemed as intent as he was.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Captain.” She reached out to touch his arm. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse. No trouble at all.”
Her touch ran like electricity up his arm. Why was he reacting like this? He had all he wanted in Carla Engels. The easy women of Shangri-La hadn’t turned him on like this, so why was Tachina able to do so? Besides, he was ugly. Why would this sex kitten be interested in him?
Because he was the man in charge, of course. Loco said Straker didn’t know women, but he knew some were attracted to power just like the ones of Shangri-La had been attracted to glory… assuming those had been real and not mere software. Involuntarily, he reached up to touch the link sockets at the nape of his neck.
Tachina followed his hand with hers. “Something wrong?”
Straker took her by the wrist and gently pushed her hand away. “No, nothing. Return to your quarters. Stay there.”
Tachina’s lips pouted. “Very well. But I have to eat, and… shower.” Her fingers fluttered, mimicking droplets falling on her body, bringing to mind…
“There won’t be many showers this trip. We all have to share the one facility we have among all aboard. You can eat in the wardroom with the crew. This bridge and the holds are off-limits.”
“As you wish.” She turned, showing her shapely backside, and then looked over her shoulder. “Visit me sometime, Captain. I get lonely.” Then she was gone, leaving the bridge looking drab.
&n
bsp; “Bitch,” muttered one of the female watchstanders.
“Hey, hey!” complained one of the men. More joined in to argue.
“Belay that talk,” snapped Captain Gibson. “That woman is trouble. She should be confined to quarters.” He looked at Straker.
Straker frowned in thought. “I’ll leave that to you, Captain Gibson. It’s your ship, after all.”
“Thank you, Captain Straker. I think I speak for the entire crew when I say it’s an indescribable relief to be…”
“Free?” Straker nodded. “We’ll stay free, too, I swear—or we’ll die trying.”
* * *
Straker threw himself into training and organizing his troops, feeling fully at home in his environment for the first time in a while. No relationship issues, no worries that he’d say the wrong thing, no bickering among his friends, just a straightforward military op.
First Sergeant Heiser seemed to be everywhere, along with the Ritter brothers, who became his three platoon sergeants. Nobody questioned this arrangement. The combination of unthinking discipline instilled by Mutuality basic training, the gratitude at being free of an Inquisitor, fair treatment, and the lack of any other option made the process go better than Straker had expected.
They reconfigured one of the holds into a laser range. With the troops’ carbines set to ultra-low power, they were able to improve everyone’s proficiency. Heiser also ran assault exercises in the passageways and holds. He wore everyone out with twelve hours of training a day.
“Great Cosmos, I’m so glad we don’t have to do those stupid brainwashing sessions anymore,” Straker overheard one soldier say.
At Heiser’s insistence, the slim, ferret-faced Nazario and the hulking Redwolf alternated in accompanying Straker. Neither would make good noncom material for a while, but they were both deadly in a fight. Nazario liked knives, and Redwolf carried a length of crysteel pipe as a baton everywhere he went. On those occasions where a little intimidation was called for, they only had to growl and display their melee weapons to emphasize a point.