This book is dedicated to my brother Steven Reid Wright. Thank you for leaving Conan, Kull, John Carter,Tarzan and so many others laying around for me to read in the Dungeon with only carmel colored beverages in glass bottles and popcorn to live on. Those were the days. . .
The Chronicles of Benjamin Jamison Book 1
Call Sign Reaper
Written by Thomas A. Wright
Edited by Rosa Saba
Copyright © 2015 Thomas A. Wright
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Ballroom Blitz
Chapter 2: Blue-Eyed Devil
Chapter 3: Workout
Chapter 4: I Told You So
Chapter 5: Hell Hath No Fury
Chapter 6: A Walk In The Park, Not!
Chapter 7: Irish Eyes Are Smiling
Chapter 8: A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste
Chapter 9: Pirates!
Chapter 10: Natalia
Chapter 11: Dreaming of the Past
Chapter 12: Hyson
Chapter 13: Three Down
Chapter 14: Rescue
Chapter 15: Left Behind
Chapter 16: Penned Up Like Cattle
Chapter 17: Escape
Chapter 18: Uppity Trillond
Chapter 19: Reunion
Chapter 20: Brig Time
Chapter 21: Training
Chapter 22: The Allond
Chapter 23: Dinner
Chapter 24: The Gift
Chapter 25: Lawyer Up
Chapter 26: Ambassador
Chapter 27: Leaving With A Princess
Chapter 28: Back in Black
Chapter 29: Home
Epilogue
Chapter 1: Ballroom Blitz
“Damn, this hurts. Even here, I can’t seem to get away from trouble. I didn’t have to get involved... yes I did. I must be getting slow to let a guy like that score one on me. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day...”
Gus’s Bar and Grill was a halfway point on his walk home from work. He noticed the crowd when he walked in, but didn’t think much of it. Sitting at a high table were a couple of regulars he knew. There was no stool, but he didn’t mind standing. He asked about their week, and got the usual grumbling he heard all the time. It’s the same everywhere, he thought. Work hard all week, and then on Friday complain about work and drink a lot of beer. It was payday and he had made just enough to pay his rent, eat and grab a beer. When the waitress, Cindy, walked up, he ordered a beer and a round for the guys sharing the table with him. That earned him a smile and a pat on the back.
An hour and half later, things were going well. He had three beers and four shots in him and it was about time to go. The six spacers as well as the local crowd were keeping Cindy, the only waitress, on her toes. His friends were ex-Colonial Merchant Marines and had a never-ending supply of stories. Most were funny and heavily embellished. He sat and listened. He knew he could not tell his story; it was darker and classified, so he just sat quietly enjoying the banter.
That is, until he heard Cindy let out a loud “hey, hands off!” followed by a loud smack. The largest of the six spacers had her by the arm and was trying to pull her onto his lap. The side of his face bore a fresh red handprint. The other side of his face was red, but that was because he was pissed. He was looking at his friends while holding her arm, explaining how no “bitch from some backwater planet” was going to do that to him and get away with it. They were all laughing, waiting to see what he was going to do next. Cindy was trying to free herself, and Ben knew that wasn’t going to happen without some help.
He judged the spacer to be about 6 feet 5 and 250 pounds. That made him about two inches taller and 30 lbs. heavier than Ben’s 6 feet 3, 220-pound frame. Ben knew he was solid, there was no doubt, but he was flabby around the middle. He knew he wasn’t the one in charge of the ragtag group, but he was the muscle. There were five men and one woman. He needed to take a couple of seconds and plan a few moves ahead if he was to get involved. He wasn’t sure he would have any backup. Six against one was not something he would jump right into, but he had before. He hoped he wouldn’t be bloodied, but they more than likely had weapons.
The locals in the bar were watching events unfold, not liking things at all. Cindy had been here since she was a teen and was now in her mid-thirties. Everyone knew and liked her; this was a quiet, friendly place. They didn’t like the newcomers’ idea of fun at her expense. Ben started to position himself to move in the direction of the two tables where the spacers were all sitting. The two men at his table noticed and looked at him at the same time. The older of the two said, “Wait and let Gus handle it.” Ben nodded and at about the same moment he saw Gus walking up to the table. The place got quiet and all attention was on Gus and the spacers. Cindy stopped her struggling and waited to see what would happen.
Gus looked the table over then looked the big man in the eyes. He gradually raised his voice, saying “let her go, now!” Ben knew it wouldn’t happen so easily, especially since Gus was only carrying a bar towel. The rest of the spacers were still laughing and making comments. They had seated themselves three on each side of two tables pushed together with the big spacer at the end. Gus didn’t walk up to the end of the table to confront the big guy; he stood in the middle behind one of the spacers with the towel over his shoulder and an apron on. Not a very threatening look. He was waiting with his hands on his hips for a response when the big spacer finally said, “shove off, mate!” That incited more laughs.
Ben watched Gus’s eyes and face go hard as stone. He had been standing there relaxed, listening to their laughing. He tensed, then moved faster than anyone expected. The towel came off his shoulder, wrapped around the neck of the spacer in front of him and pulled him backwards out of his chair. The spacer’s face turned several shades of red.
Ben had not expected that out of the friendly old bartender. Everyone at the table jumped up and moved to get at Gus and their shipmate. Gus looked at the big spacer and told him again to let Cindy go and get the hell out of his bar. They weren’t laughing now or smiling. In Ben’s eyes, this didn’t change anything much other than there were five instead of six now to deal with. The spacers were moving around but no one had drawn any kind of weapon. Gus released the pressure a little on the spacer so he could grab a gulp of air before tightening up again.
Ben was not sure how Gus had seen this playing out. The big spacer was really pissed at seeing his shipmate choking. He grabbed Cindy by the neck and started choking her in response. His big hand wrapped around half her neck. Another spacer stepped forward and started to say something but never got it out, as Ben launched himself at the big spacer choking the life out of Cindy. He used his momentum and punched the spacer in the ear with his fist. In his mind, he was picturing his fist going through the man’s head so there was no pulling the punch when it landed. The next punch went to the spacer’s kidney and he involuntarily let Cindy go as he arched his back in pain. A kick to the side of the knee took him down to the floor. Ben grabbed Cindy’s arm and pulled her away from the group of spacers, who were looking in shock at their shipmate on the floor. He pushed Cindy to the table where his friends were now standing and they put her behind them.
Ben eased his way over next to Gus; the spacer wasn’t struggling nearly as much with a few minutes of oxygen deprivation. The person who looked to be the leader was shaking his head and looking very unfriendly. He looked at Ben and said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” All
hell broke loose. Gus had been holding the small spacer to his right side and watching everyone else over the spacer’s left shoulder. The female spacer jumped at him with a fist aimed for his face. Gus had been ready and just pulled his captive in front of him. The poor guy had been throttled already by Gus and now he took the punch in the face, breaking his nose. The spacers’ knees were weak, so Gus pushed the limp body at her, knocking her to the floor. Her shipmate, through no fault of his own, headbutted her. She was seeing stars, and was definitely not moving to get up right away.
An average-sized man in greasy coveralls jumped Ben. He must have been the ship’s engineer. He threw a roundhouse punch which Ben easily blocked, punching him three times in the face so fast the man’s knees buckled and he went down holding his face, blood running between his fingers.
The odds had evened up and now it was two against two. The spacer who Ben thought was probably the captain was still just standing in the same spot. There was a skinny spacer standing with him. Ben could see the guy’s clothes were about two sizes too big for him — Not that his wardrobe really mattered, except it was easier to hide weapons in baggy clothes.
Ben was right. The skinny spacer had an evil grin on his face as he reached under his shirt, pulling out a knife with about a 6-inch blade. He looked as if he was trying to decide which one of them to go after. He chose Gus. Having made his decision, he moved fast — but not fast enough. Ben moved to intercept the spacer, blocking the knife with his left arm and grabbing the spacer’s loose fitting shirt with his right. Using the spacer’s momentum, Ben head-butted him in the face, breaking his nose and left eye socket. He grabbed the man’s knife hand, beating it against the bar until the fingers released the blade. A hard punch to the stomach and a knee to the crotch was all the poor guy could take. He fell to the floor moaning and making wheezing noises as he tried to breathe.
The captain was looking at his crew on the floor. They were moving around and moaning, trying to get on their hands and knees. Some of the locals were standing closer, ready to intervene if they tried to get up off the floor. The captain said nothing, but removed his jacket and hung it over a nearby chair. He had a long-sleeved shirt on and proceeded to roll up the sleeves. Ben motioned Gus with his head to go stand by Cindy at his table.
He waited for the captain to make his move. It did not take long. Ben was distracted for a second as the female spacer tried to get up and was pushed back down by a customer. That was all it took for the captain to close the distance between them and hit Ben in the mouth and nose, making him see black spots.
Ben took a couple of involuntary steps back and shook his head to clear his vision. The captain was about thirty-five and strong. Ben could feel the blood running off his face and down his neck. “Damn it!” he said; he thought he might get through the night without being bloodied. He wasn’t mad at getting punched in the face. His training didn’t let him get mad. He was just disappointed that he’d let himself get distracted.
Ben was ready when the captain started punching. He blocked every punch and managed to score a couple of punches to the captain’s mid-section. The captain backed up a few steps, giving himself some room to catch his breath. Ben just watched him. He was in the zone now. He wanted to get this over with and let Gus get the local sheriff to haul them away.
The captain came at him again. Ben blocked most of his punches but let a couple of them land so he could set his next punch. He pivoted and swung back with his elbow aimed at the captain’s face. It rocked the man’s head to the side. Ben pivoted back and followed his hit up with an uppercut that snapped the captain’s head up. Ben dropped low and swept the captain’s feet out from under him. He landed hard on his back, gasping for air. Ben moved quickly, grabbing the captain by the collar and punching him twice rapidly in the face, knocking him out.
Ben knew that at one time or another the captain had been a good fighter, but it looked to him that he and all of his people had not trained in a long time and were probably just used to bullying people into doing what they wanted. Ben looked around at the spacers littering the floor and noticed the place had become very quiet, except for the moaning and groaning. He turned around, grabbed a bar towel, and started wiping the blood off his face and neck.
Gus walked over and patted him on the back, then walked behind the bar and grabbed a cold beer mug, filling it for Ben. Ben took a swallow and swirled it around his mouth to rinse the blood out. He spit it out on the big spacer who was still lying on the floor. The guy moaned but didn’t say a word or move. Ben could see blood in his ear where he had punched him. He knew the knee was bad because it was bent at an odd angle. It’s going to be a while before this guy will be bullying anyone, he thought with satisfaction.
The place started coming alive after that. Four of the locals started dragging the spacers outside. They groaned and cried out, fighting back a little but not much. There was some cussing and threats, but no one cared. Cindy walked up to Ben and gave him a hug. She walked behind the bar and did the same for Gus. He poured her a beer and she sat down at the corner table, drinking it and rubbing her wrist. Ben downed his beer and shook hands across the bar with Gus, told him he would see him tomorrow. Everyone in the bar was saying good night, good job, you were awesome, and he really didn’t care; his face hurt. He was glad it had not gotten ugly. Ugly as in dead spacers. He started thinking he needed to find a place to start training again.
Gus let Ben slip out the back door. He knew the sheriff, and there would be no problem with Ben going home. There were never any problems at Gus’s place and the sheriff was a regular customer. If the sheriff had to talk to Ben, Gus would send him to the farm where he lived.
Ben started on his three mile walk home. His face hurt but it would be a good reminder to get back into training.
Chapter 2: Blue-Eyed Devil
Ben looked behind him a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t being followed. After the first mile, he started to relax. He guessed the sheriff had probably picked up the troublemakers. It was dark with only the light from the night sky. He was looking down at the road about 10 feet in front of him, lost in thought. The insect life on Anubis made night sounds. It was as if it spoke to him. There should be no predators around. In the jungle a couple of hours away, of course, it was a different story.
About the time the adrenaline and the alcohol wore off during his walk, someone cleared their throat about 20 feet in front of him. He looked up into the blackness. His eyes adjusted to the dark so he could see an outline of a person standing directly in his path. What the shit is going on tonight? he thought to himself.
The person started walking towards him. After a few steps, he knew it was a woman. His brain and body went on full alert. He knew this wasn’t right at all and that she might not be alone. He looked around, scanning the darkness. She took a couple more steps and spoke.
“You have had a busy evening, Benjamin.” He picked up on the amusement in her voice.
“And how do you know that?” Ben asked.
She took a couple more steps and now was about 10 feet away. He could tell she was dressed in black. He looked at her from bottom to top. Black combat boots, black leather pants. A black lightweight long-sleeved shirt with a black leather sleeveless vest over it. It all fit her perfectly. She had shoulder length jet-black hair. He could not see her eyes yet.
She moved like a predator and made almost no noise. Ben felt himself getting distracted just watching her. She had curves in all the right places. Her long-sleeved shirt was tight on her arms and he could see they were toned and muscular. He needed to say or do something. He felt himself getting distracted again.
“Look, lady, I can’t afford you. Can’t you walk on the other side of the road?” he said.
She stopped dead. Ben stopped also. They were about seven feet apart now. She broke the silence with a laugh. It had a nice tone to it.
“Is that why you think I’m here? If it is, I have misjudged your intelligence by light yea
rs,” she said.
“Lady, I don’t know why you’re here,, but the fact that you are is just wrong.”
She took two more steps. She was five feet away now and he could see her face clearly. She was smiling. She was confident. He knew he was screwed. Time to try something else, he thought.
He was tired of the cat-and-mouse. He took four quick steps and stopped a foot in front of her. She didn’t budge. He could see her ice blue eyes now and a small scar on her jaw line. She was closer to perfection than any woman he had ever met. He decided to ruffle her feathers.
“Now, are you going to get your ass out of my way so I can go home, or am I going to have to move you?” He tried to sound tough. A smile slowly making its way across her face told him he was in trouble. Her hand shot up like a snake and her palm hit him in the chest, knocking him down flat on his back.
It felt like a mule had kicked him. He knew it was not her punch. She had a repulsor glove on. It had small metal circles up and down the fingers and on the palm. Flexible fiber wires went up the sleeve of the shirt and around to the back where they were attached to the power pack. He knew those were not available to the public. Only certain special ops and secret operatives had them, at least legitimately. He also knew she had it turned down to stun. On the higher settings, it could knock a person through a brick wall.
He could hear her footsteps, and he saw her step over him and kneel down. She was straddling him, sitting on his diaphragm and making it even harder to breath. She leaned forward, pinning his arms down and lowering her face about an inch from his. He didn’t try to resist. Her proximity like this would have made it hard to breathe even if she hadn’t knocked the shit out of him. He still had no answers. He thought he would keep trying the smart-ass questions and comments. She was staring in his eyes, just looking at him.
“Look lady, I’m all for a little rough stuff, but couldn’t we go back to my place and find something softer to lay on? I’ve already got road rash on my back from your little love tap.”
The Chronicles of Benjamin Jamison: Call Sign Reaper Page 1