The Long Black (The Black Chronicles Book 1)

by J. M. Anjewierden

  This actually elicited a couple laughs from the other nearby mercenaries.

  “Cute, Hudson. Perhaps we should invite them to tea while we’re at it?”

  Morgan didn’t know who had said it, not that it mattered.

  “Cut the chatter,” Marigold said. “Game faces on. If they drop their weapons quick enough, great. We’re not going to give them a chance to turn on fire on us first. If we can get the element of surprise, we take it.” The lieutenant switched from their group channel to the main one. “Marigold here, we’re in position.”

  “Jacobs here, we’re pinned down at juncture A-3.”

  “Kaldrin, we’re clear, but something caused hydroponics to seal itself off. We’ll have to work our way around, maybe five minutes.”

  The commander was the next person to address them.

  “Marigold, do you have enough with you to take the bridge on your own?”

  “I only have five of our people, along with an armed crewman. Do we have any intel on the numbers we’ll be facing?”

  “They took out the cameras pretty quick, but it looks to be fifteen to twenty tangos.” It wasn’t the commander, but another female voice Morgan didn’t recognize. Presumably whoever they had managing the surveillance on the ship.

  “That’s pretty steep odds, even with the element of surprise.”

  “Steep odds or not, can you do it?”

  “Weapons-free?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Marigold was quiet for a moment as she thought about it.

  “We can do it, or at least buy the captain enough time for someone else to get here and finish up.”

  As scary as that statement was for Morgan – the willingness to go out there and pick a fight while outnumbered – it was the way she said it, completely without emotion, that was even more chilling.

  Morgan toggled to a private channel so only Marigold would hear.

  “You want to go out there and attack, three of them for each of us, without any cover?”

  “What I want is irrelevant. It is what we must do.”

  “And you expect me to do the same?”

  “Yes,” was her blunt reply. “Without you the odds are even worse. If we fail, what is likely to happen to you and the rest of the crew?”

  “Didn’t you just say the others would get here in time?”

  “I lied. If we fail, the pirates can likely take the grenades off of us and breach the bridge.”

  Morgan felt another deep chill at this simple statement.

  “You’re no coward, Crewman Black. Your actions at the armory show that. You can do this. You can help save the ship.”

  Morgan swallowed hard. The deep chill coiled around her stomach making her wish she could throw up again.

  “I. . .” she paused. Could she do it? Should she do it? “Okay. What do you need from me?”

  Instead of responding directly Marigold switched channels so the group could hear her.

  “There isn’t time for anything elegant. We toss flashbangs, then a mix of concussion and frag grenades. Two seconds after we rush the corridor and shoot everything.”

  Marigold let the murmurs die down before she continued.

  “For the newbie’s benefit I’ll spell out how we’re going to do that. We’re coming at the corridor from the side, and don’t want to mess up each other’s field of fire. The first three out will turn, step forward a pace, and crouch down to fire, the first turning immediately, the second after two meters, and the third after four. The three after that will take up position two meters behind the first three, offset by a meter. Crewman Black, you’ll be the last out, meaning you will be standing a meter to the side of the last crouching shooter.”

  The explanation was followed by a series of hand gestures that the other mercenaries clearly understood perfectly well, as they nodded and started preparing. Two started pulling grenades from their belts while a third edged towards the corner, extending a small sensor out to get a better idea where the pirates were. He activated a holodisplay that showed the pirates clustered in the middle of the corridor, enough so that, with the addition of a fair bit of haze and smoke from the explosions and so forth, it was hard to tell exactly how many there were.

  It did seem to Morgan that fifteen was on the low side of likely, but the mercenaries didn’t seem bothered by the numbers. They just started lining up a bit back from the turn in the corridor in two rows, the front two the mercenaries with the grenades.

  Morgan took her place at the back of the second row, her rifle carefully pointed down at the ground and not at the two people in front of her.

  They waited.

  Nervously Morgan checked the magazines on each side of the belt, making sure they were loose enough to be grabbed easily, but not so loose that they risked falling out. Next, Morgan checked her pistol in her pocket, still in easy reach with her last magazine loaded and ready to go. Finally she thumbed off the safety on the rifle, only taking a moment longer because of the unfamiliarity of the weapon.

  Marigold tapped the lead mercenary of the right row on the shoulder. He nodded and held up a hand, counting down from five. Suddenly Morgan realized that she’d already tuned out the loud noises of the explosions and gunfire from the pirates attempting to breach the bulkhead.

  If only it were as easy to ignore the pounding of her heart.

  The count reached zero.

  The grenades were softly tossed around the corner, rolling forward until they exploded. As before the sound was much less than Morgan had expected, barely noticeable over the racket the pirates were putting up.

  The same mercenary held up two fingers, then one, and then surged forward with a closed fist held up.

  Morgan was so focused on following the back in front of her and not tripping over her own feet that she didn’t see anything that was happening. The mercenary in front of her turned and stepped forward, so abruptly – from her point of view – that she almost collided with him.

  She managed to catch herself, as well as complete her own turn a few steps farther on.

  The scene she was presented with was chaotic. There were too many pirates still standing for a quick count, along with a jumble of shapes on the floor. The smoke hanging in the air seemed to be tinged red, though Morgan convinced herself it was her imagination.

  Morgan brought her rifle up sighting through its simple iron sights at the nearest moving shape in front of her. She tried to squeeze the trigger, but hesitation stayed her hand just long enough that one of the other mercenaries fired first, sending the pirate sprawling with an ugly ragged hole in her back. Morgan fought the urge to close her eyes.

  The pirates weren’t surprised anymore. They were turning around, their weapons coming up.

  Morgan aimed at another pirate, her hesitation slightly more pronounced this time as she looked into the face – or at least the visor – of the pirate. He was bringing his rifle around, his first shot going short into the floor in front of the mercenaries. A small piece of the flooring bounced off Morgan’s ankle, the blow enough to startle Morgan out of her shock.

  Again resisting the urge to close her eyes, Morgan squeezed off one round, her aim with the unfamiliar weapon slightly off, her shot going high over the pirate’s shoulder.

  Everyone was firing now, mercenaries and pirates. Morgan fired again at the pirate she was aiming at, missing by less this time. Before she could correct her aim and fire again someone else hit that pirate, so Morgan moved onto another target.

  A bullet struck her in the knee. Luckily it wasn’t a penetrator round, so it only stung slightly, barely noticeable amongst the pumping adrenaline, the pit in her stomach, and terror in her breast. Morgan wasn’t even really aware of the mercenaries or any of the sounds around her. There were the pirates, her, and her rifle.

  The next thing Morgan was consciously aware of was her rifle clicking on an empty chamber, her magazine empty.

  Morgan fumbled at the magazine release, actually dropping the first ma
gazine she pulled. It was quicker to just pull a second one.

  It took two tries to slap it in hard enough that the mechanism engaged. Once that was done, Morgan was back to shooting in moments.

  There was. . . almost a calmness that came over Morgan. Turn, aim, fire. Wait a moment, then fire again if needed, or turn anew.

  A bullet smashed into her chest, driving the breath out of her lungs, but as before it wasn’t a penetrator round. All it managed to do was stun her for a moment.

  Morgan reached for another magazine, only to come up empty. Grunting she reached down, hunting among the empty magazines and bits of shrapnel and debris for the full one. She found it and slapped it into the well before she realized the sounds had stopped.

  Glancing up, Morgan immediately wished she hadn’t. The scene of carnage in front of her was beyond description. But she was also relieved – there weren’t any pirates standing. Looking around her she saw three of the mercenaries were also down, though two of them looked like they were still alive.

  Her hands now shaking, Morgan moved over to the wall, carefully set the rifle down, then slumped down next to it.

  She didn’t throw up, though she wished she could.

  After a minute Marigold came over to her.

  “You did well.”

  “I feel terrible.”

  “Now, sure. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact it’s a good response to a life and death tussle like this one. You acted decisively when it was needed. Most pros freeze up, at least the first time or two.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. Come on, we’ll talk more later, if you’d like. Right now let’s go tell your captain that the ship is saved.”

  “I’d rather just stay here, if I could.”

  “If you really want to stay here, fine. But I’d like to tell the captain how you helped, and it would be nice if you’re there for that.”

  Morgan thought about telling Marigold that it wouldn’t have the effect she expected. It was a nice gesture, though, so Morgan just rose to her feet.

  “All right.”

  The hatch to the bridge had to be pried open manually, only possible once the captain released the locks on her side.

  “What did they do to my ship?” the captain demanded once they were inside. She looked quite harried, and Morgan would have sworn there were new lines on her face.

  “They took DCC and the secondary environmental plant, as well as most of the quarters. We’ve reclaimed the first two without serious losses, but the quarters were a delicate situation.”

  Marigold was quiet for a moment, obviously listening to someone on her suit’s com.

  “We’ve confirmed, the ship is now clear. It will take us a while to compile a list of casualties, or for engineering to get a damage report.”

  “They didn’t take the armory? I’m getting all kinds of bizarre messages from that area. At least from the equipment that is still working.”

  “They tried. They did not get in, thanks in large part to the crewman here.”

  The captain turned to regard Morgan coolly.

  “What are you doing here? We don’t need a cargo hauler at the moment.”

  “The lieutenant asked me along.”

  “Why?”

  “Because without her fast action we would have lost the armory, and likely would not have stopped them from taking the bridge,” Marigold interjected quickly.

  “Somehow, I imagine you overstate the case.”

  “Not at all, ma’am,” Hudson spoke up; his voice more respectful than it had been when talking with either Morgan or Marigold. “I was attacked by nearly a dozen pirates at the armory. Without Morgan helping me they would have taken the armory, at least temporarily. If they had the lieutenant would have been hard pressed to stop them. Even if she had stopped them, there would have been casualties.”

  “We had six people against nearly twenty pirates here. Without Crewman Black that would have been more like three or two, in which case we would have had to wait for the other groups,” Marigold gestured to the hallway, “who still haven’t arrived.”

  Morgan considered pointing out that they hadn’t arrived because once they’d been told the bridge was secure they had diverted to other areas of the ship, but only for a moment.

  “Whatever,” the captain said at last, dismissing both of them, turning back to the display in front of her.

  Morgan hadn’t expected much from the captain, she knew the woman disliked her deeply, even if she didn’t know why.

  Shaking her head Marigold pointed out to the corridor, turning and walking out followed by Morgan and Hudson.

  “Can you come with us back to the armory, Darlin’?” Hudson said quietly, once they were out of earshot of the captain.

  “Why?”

  “The armory is still open. We need to get that fixed more than just about anything else. You know what you did to the systems, so fixing them will be easier,” Marigold clarified.

  “I’d like to sleep for a week, but, as you said, what I want is irrelevant.”

  “Well said.”

  They were quiet the rest of the way back to the armory, but once they were there the lieutenant pulled Morgan aside.

  “I have a proposition for you. You’re clearly being wasted as what? A conduit scrubber?”

  “Cargo hauling.”

  “Like I said, a waste. You’ve shown ingenuity, tenacity, and a cool-head under fire. You also seem to be a good shot. With those you’d do well as a mercenary. Even at your young age you could make officer quickly.”

  “Ah, sir, you don’t ever say such nice things to me,” Hudson commented.

  A couple of the other mercenaries busy carting off the bodies laughed.

  “That’s because you’re a born corporal, Hudson. Just enough smarts to get yourself in trouble,” one of them said.

  “Stow the chatter. This is a private conversation.”

  “What do you say? The pay is good – better than you get now. Better than even what the crew chiefs get, and most of the time it isn’t hard. Stuff like today isn’t common, not at all. Something like half the mercenaries I know retired without ever firing their weapon outside the range.”

  “Let me think on it,” Morgan said, bending down to pick up one of the empty magazines for her pistol that had been forgotten the first time around.

  CHAPTER 18

  Never give up what you want most for what you want right now.

  - Fleet Admiral Maxwell, Zion Navy, quoting his ancestor

  GERTRUDE

  FOUR ZION MONTHS LATER / THREE AND A HALF EARTH MONTHS

  GERTRUDE WAITED AT THE DOCK, without Haruhi. News had been infuriatingly spotty about whatever had happened on the Fate of Dawn, but enough had leaked to know that many of the crew had been injured or killed.

  That they hadn’t called off the rest of the route was almost certainly due to the fact that, given where they had been attacked, it would only have saved a few days anyway, just that needed for loading and unloading cargo. The quickest path back to Parlon was through the very same systems they were delivering to anyway.

  Looking about Gertrude saw very few children waiting. The mood was decidedly more somber than it had been when Gertrude’s ship had returned, that was sure.

  The crowd was also a bit smaller than Gertrude had expected, but she supposed not every family had the strength to come and meet a casket in place of a loved one. No one but family had been told who had died. The ship’s captain had forbidden any letters from the crew to keep gossip down. The bitch.

  Gertrude could see the others glancing about, and frowning. Unlike her they knew each other, and could see by the absences who some of the casualties must be.

  The ship arrived, without fanfare.

  “Ship docking complete,” the captain said over the intercom. “We will unload as efficiently as we’re able.” There was a long pause, “We’ll unload the caskets first. Please be respectful.”

  The request was
hardly necessary. The lobby was dead silent while the caskets were unloaded, save for someone on the intercom reading off the names.

  There were so many, more than even the absences had suggested. Part of Gertrude was amazed the ship had managed to survive with that many dead. Not to mention an untold number of injured. The larger part of her, though? That part was remembering a far smaller gathering, with four sealed coffins draped in flags.

  And all of her didn’t know what state Morgan was in.

  At last the caskets ended, followed by the wounded, walking or otherwise. Gertrude wasn’t the only one breathing a quiet sigh of relief. She immediately felt bad about it, given how many others were quietly – and not so quietly – crying, but she pushed through the guilt. She couldn’t change what had happened. Not now, and not then.

  The rest of the crew started trickling out finally, and to a man they looked exhausted. Given what they’d had to endure to get everyone else back home safely, plus fixing whatever damage there had been and caring for the injured, it was no wonder.

  Morgan looked like death warmed over as she staggered out of the airlock tube. Gertrude had seen Morgan after a compound fracture and nearly bleeding to death, and she hadn’t looked quite so bad then. She didn’t care.

  Only respect for the dead kept Gertrude from rushing over to embrace Morgan. She waited until Morgan was a few paces away.

  Gertrude lifted Morgan in a tight embrace, which the younger woman returned, albeit not as enthusiastically.

  “I’m all right, G, I’m all right.”

  “What happened? Were you hurt?”

  “It’s a long story, but part of it is a job offer.”

  “A job offer? For what?”

  “The Aegis Mercenary Company,” a voice said from behind them.

  “Captain Rain?” Morgan said, incredulously, “News travels fast, then.”

  “When not blocked by the captain’s order, yes, it does,” he said. Gertrude put Morgan down and turned to face him. She recognized the captain of Steve, but hadn’t talked with him herself.

  “You didn’t take it, did you?” Gertrude asked Morgan. A year ago she would have been sure the answer was no, but she also knew that she hadn’t had the easiest time among Captain Bogard’s crew, even before a third the crew had ended up injured or dead.