A Fiery Sunset

by Chris Kennedy

“Why did Colonel Enkh encourage you to retreat?”

  “She feared the situation was unwinnable,” Jim said quickly before Nigel could complicate matters. Still, he fumed.

  “You don’t agree?” she asked Nigel.

  “No,” he said, “I don’t. I believed we had a defensible situation and should’ve taken advantage of it. They’d have had to come down to our territory, where we had the advantage.”

  She looked down the center of the table for a moment, and Jim recognized her disconnected look; it was the same one he got when using his pinplants. “Colonel Shirazi, you realize this action against Earth is in direct violation of Mercenary Guild law?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “Your data shows quite an array of ships.” The Tri-V quickly identified and highlighted all the ships noted by Revenge’s sensors. “It also represents an array of races.” She glanced up at the display. “Four, to be precise. That implies this action isn’t illegal…” she looked at Nigel, “it’s sanctioned.”

  “Wait,” Jim said and raised a hand. “You’re suggesting the Merc Guild allowed this?”

  “Allowed?” she asked. “I don’t know if that’s the right way to put it.”

  “Then what is?” Nigel asked.

  She shrugged. “Time will tell,” she said and stood up.

  “Wait,” Jim said, “we don’t have time to wait.”

  “We get regular couriers here,” she said. “One is expected from Earth in three days, and one from Karma in four.”

  “I thought you didn’t have any fleets outside this system?”

  “I don’t; these are just information couriers. Return to your ships; we’ll talk in four days.”

  “Are we prisoners?” Nigel asked. She eyed him and cocked her head before answering.

  “For now, you’re guests of the Winged Hussars.”

  The MinSha lieutenant beckoned them toward the door through which they’d entered, and Alexis left via another.

  “You’re welcome to stay on the station if you want,” the lieutenant said in English, to Jim’s surprise. Very few MinSha bothered to learn English; because they didn’t breathe through their mouths, it was a difficult language for them.

  “Prime Base?” he asked.

  “Yes, we call it Prime Base.”

  “What was it called before you found it?” The alien cocked her heart-shaped head in curiosity.

  “Maybe she’ll tell you that, some day,” T’jto said as they went through the door. Paka was waiting, talking to the two suited troopers.

  “This was a waste of time,” Nigel growled. “This entire trip was a waste of time.”

  “Easy, sir,” Mason said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “No, it was, and you agree. Abandoning Earth was bad enough, but we should’ve gone with the fleet.” He cast a dismissive gesture at the closing door. “She won’t help; she’s safe and happy here, like a camel flea. This hidden base makes her safe, while we’re at the whim of enemies.”

  “She hasn’t said no yet,” Jim said, then shrugged. “A few days won’t make any difference either way.” Nigel grunted and stormed off down the hallway with Mason. Jim delayed as he considered his options.

  “That young man has issues,” Hargrave said, watching Nigel leave. Jim was worrying about his own issues, and he glanced back to admire the two CASPers guarding their commander’s conference room.

  The machines were pristine in appearance, looking like they’d been uncrated just that morning. The sergeant’s suit he’d had a good look at; the one next to it wore corporal chevrons on its shoulder and the name “Culper” on the cockpit dome.

  “Maybe we’ll stay here,” Jim said, “give us an excuse to look aroun—” he stopped mid-word and spun around toward the second CASPer. “Culper?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Rick Culper?” Jim stepped closer, not believing what he was seeing. A second later, there was a click and a hiss. A small buzzer sounded a warning as the Mk8’s cockpit split and rotated upward. The man sitting inside wearing a haptic suit was, undeniably, Jim’s childhood friend, Rick Culper. “Rick, oh my God, it’s you!”

  “I’m sorry?” Rick said. Jim started to say something, then stopped. Three years had changed his old friend more than he’d have thought possible. To start, Rick had a short but well-styled beard. He looked as massive as before, yet it was the other man’s face that drew Jim’s eyes back.

  “Rick,” Jim hissed. “What happened?” Rick cocked his head, a head that was horribly scarred. A line of scar tissue marked what Jim thought was a laser wound cutting into his head above his left ear and ending just an inch from his nose.

  Rick caught where Jim was looking. He pulled his hand free from the CASPer’s arm to reach up and touch the scar. “Do I know you?”

  Jim physically staggered at the words, unable to form a reply for several heartbeats. “Rick,” he said, “it’s me, Jim. Jim Cartwright?”

  The man Jim had known since he was five years old looked at him curiously. It was the same look you’d give a casual acquaintance you haven’t seen in many years who you’re not sure you remember. The person might be familiar, but you can’t really place the name.

  “Sorry, I don’t think I know you,” Rick said. Without another word, he closed the CASPer’s cockpit and resumed his post.

  “Come on, Jim,” Hargrave said, laying a gentle hand on Jim’s shoulder, “we should go.” Jim allowed himself to be led away. All down the hallway, he fought for self-control. First his father hadn’t returned from a contract, then his mother ruined the company—and his birthright—and then his girlfriend turned out to be a government spy. Rick had been his best friend growing up. In many ways, his only friend. Now that was gone too. He was numb with loss as they turned out of sight.

  * * *

  “Why did you open your cockpit like that?” Sergeant Johansson asked over the squadnet.

  “Sorry,” Rick said, trying to shake the itchy feeling he’d gotten in the back of his skull. The feeling he should have remembered something. “I thought I knew him.”

  “You’d think you’d remember knowing the commander of a Horsemen unit.”

  “That guy? Looked more like he ate a Horseman,” one of the other security detail joked. Johansson chuckled, but Rick felt like the little joke was wrong, even though it came out naturally. Maybe the man, Jim Cartwright, was more than he seemed. “We still on for tonight?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “If you’re up to it,” Johannsson said with just the hint of a laugh in her voice. When he said he would be, in all ways, she did laugh. The Tri-V on the inside of his cockpit showed their shift time. Another hour, and they’d be relieved. Ever since arriving in New Warsaw, Commander Cromwell had kept around-the-clock marine teams and rapid response units on standby. The command staff didn’t say why; it just posted the watches.

  When the ships arrived in-system, all hell had broken loose. Unscheduled ships didn’t arrive in New Warsaw. Ever. So when these appeared, everyone figured this was the threat they’d been hearing rumors about ever since their leader had stopped taking new contracts.

  The commander of Cartwright’s Cavaliers, Rick thought. That same tickle. His kindergarten class, a retired merc talking about the Four Horsemen. Then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He gave his head a little shake and stopped trying to force himself to remember. A laser from a Pushtal pirate, before he’d joined the Hussars, had taken a big chunk of his memory, as well as how he felt and interpreted emotions.

  Nemo, a medic with the Hussars, had offered to help recover some of Rick’s memories and brain functions; Nemo was a Wrogul, and he used his tentacles to perform surgery right through his patients’ skin. Without anesthesia. Nemo had inserted Rick’s pinplants, and having a being slide its tentacles into your brain was a singularly bizarre sensation he’d yet to get up the nerve to repeat.

  Still, Commander Cartwright seemed certain he’d known Rick. Certain enoug
h that he’d been distressed when Rick hadn’t recognized him. He glanced at the time. Maybe I’ll look up Nemo after all, he thought. Before more ships show up, and those aren’t friendly.

  * * *

  Alexis stood in the antechamber off the conference room and watched Jim and Rick through her pinplants. Using her pinplants, she could access every sensor, every log, every camera in the New Warsaw star system within seconds.

  The young Cartwright was almost as much of an unknown as Shirazi. While one was uncertain and a bit unpredictable, the other was full of passion and fury. And kind of cute too, she thought. Leaving Cartwright, she found Shirazi and his First Sergeant, and she examined the commander of Asbaran Solutions. He looked like his father and his grandfather. However, he had more of his grandfather in his carriage, his demeanor, and certainly his intensity. Of course, Asbaran had always been the rage and fury of the Four Horsemen.

  “”

  “Please stop spying on me,” Alexis sent back. “I thought you were busy overseeing the final stages of construction in shipyard #2?”

  “”

  “Including spying on me.” There was no response.

  “”

  “Correct, I didn’t.” The door opened, and Kleena came in. He led the Hussars’ super-science team, euphemistically referred to as the Geek Squad.

  “Commander,” he said and held out the nav-stick Jim had given her.

  “What’s the verdict,” she asked.

  “It’s genuine,” he said. “The molecular ID is a match for one of the four issued to Drizz on Earth.”

  She’d known it would be. The Hussars had helped with the modifications to Bucephalus ordered by Jim Cartwright’s father, Thaddeus Cartwright. When the ship arrived in New Warsaw, there was no question as to its legitimacy, only how it got here. She just wished Drizz had sent a message along with it.

  “Is there anything else?” he asked. “Sato wants to run another test with the cutter.”

  “No,” she said and nodded her thanks. “I wouldn’t want to keep our resident mad scientist from his toys.” He started to leave. “Kleena?”

  “Commander?”

  “Can he replicate half of what the shuttle has?”

  “He thinks he can replicate it all.”

  “Right,” she said patiently, “but I’m asking if you think he can.”

  “Some of it, sure. If we have enough time.”

  “I can’t give you any more people. We need to get those ships finished.”

  “I know,” he said. “We’ll do the best we can.”

  “You think everything they said is true, then?” Paka asked once Kleena had departed.

  “I find it unlikely,” she said. “The guilds don’t play those kinds of games. Humanity has brought too much to the table. Their bottom line is up, thanks to us. Still…”

  “Still, there’s the plot against the Horsemen,” Paka added.

  She nodded. But were we really just the tip of the iceberg? “We can afford a few days,” she said and left. Lieutenant T’jto watched her go and stayed in the conference room for a few minutes, alone. Finally, she turned and left as the security team was due to be relieved. She didn’t notice a shadow in one corner of the conference room move ever so slightly as she left.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Nine

  Alexis’ Quarters, Winged Hussars Prime Base, New Warsaw System

  “”

  Alexis sat up in bed, jarred out of a troubled sleep by Ghost’s voice in her mind.

  I wish you’d learn a better way to wake me up, she answered, but got no reply. With a sigh, she got out of bed and quickly dressed. As she opened the door to her personal quarters, Paka was just reaching to press the call button.

  Her Veetanho executive officer stepped back in surprise. “The courier arrived a short time ago,” Paka said.

  “I know,” Alexis replied, tapping her pinplants. Paka nodded in understanding and followed her to her office. Alexis maintained several residences and offices in Prime Base, each aimed toward a different type of duty that might call her. When in-system, she stayed at all of them from time to time, with the sole exception of the one closest to the CIC. Thankfully, she’d never needed to stay there. She hoped she never did.

  She called this one her command office. It was closest to the various meeting rooms and division commanders within the Winged Hussars. It was the most intricate and elaborate of her offices, and the one her mother had preferred; unfortunately, it was also the one she liked the least. Alexis touched the intercom control and connected to the comms department.

  “Communications,” an efficient voice answered immediately.

  “Have you received the packet from our courier?” she asked.

  “Commander!” the person replied, surprised to have the CO herself interested in routine comms traffic. “We’re just now running it through the special encryption.”

  The ship was a simple freighter, one of dozens the Hussars used as both transporters of goods, and message couriers between their various business interests. Though the company had withdrawn from any new contracts, other things were not as easy to stop. The courier from Earth arrived yesterday, confirming what Jim Cartwright and Nigel Shirazi had said. Earth had fallen to an alien-led merc armada.

  Paka stood by silently as they waited for the custom encryption software written by Ghost to work its magic on the data packet. An ancient AI, it had lain dormant within Pegasus until found by the first Winged Hussars during the Alpha Contracts. Decades later, an EMP pulse had killed Alexis’ sister, but in that moment of tragedy, Ghost had inhabited the woman’s pinplants, effectively animating Alexis’ sister. Ghost now lived on Pegasus, acting as the ship’s drone controller and providing the Hussars with computer programs far beyond anything else available in the Union, like the unbreakable encryption used for messages between the Hussars’ commanders.

  “Decryption complete, Commander,” the technician announced, and her desk flashed to indicate the data was available. Alexis quickly scrolled through the routine traffic to find what she wanted, then hissed when she did.

  “Paka?”

  “Commander?”

  “Please summon the merc company commanders from Bucephalus.”

  “Just Cartwright and Shirazi?”

  “No,” she said and shook her head, “all of those who are currently in-system.” The Veetanho nodded and left. Alexis returned to the dispatches, reading through them while she waited. By the time she was notified they’d arrived, Alexis was finished. She rose and walked into the meeting room.

  Along with Nigel Shirazi’s unit, Jim had managed to bring along three other units—a light assault company known as Sinclair’s Scorpions, commanded by Alistair Sinclair; Bert’s Bees, a marine unit commanded by Frank Earl; and an infiltration unit called Drake’s Rangers, commanded by Lisa Drake. They all waited for her as she entered the chamber.

  The three small non-Horsemen units were an unknown quantity. She’d heard of Frank Earl and worked with Bert’s Bees on a couple of operations. They were reliable marines without their own major space assets. They hired out as needed and had been around for quite a while, which spoke to their success. Earl was in his fifties, a little overweight and slightly balding, but he projected an air of quiet competence.

  She’d also heard of Drake’s Rangers but had never worked with them. In the modern era of armored CASPers, they were an oddity, specializing in infiltration, and didn’t use the armored combat suits. With a reputation of getting in under almost any circumstance, they struck Alexis as more like spies than mercs. Lisa Drake was the CO and founder; she had a background in military intelligence in Earth’s world government. She appeared as impatient as Earl was patient but seemed much more alert as she took in everything around her without staring. She had her hair cu
t ultra-short and was built more like an athlete than a merc.

  Last was Alistair Sinclair. Compact and powerful, he fit the bill of a merc in every way. His Scorpions weren’t as well-known, but they had a long history of successful small-scale assault contracts. They took high risk contracts and usually came back successful. Of the three, his expression most resembled Nigel Shirazi’s; anger. However, Alexis knew his anger was focused on the situation, not the people in the conference room.

  She took a seat at the head of the conference table, then spoke. “First, thank you all for coming over.”

  “We’ve seen three ships arrive so far,” Nigel said, not waiting for her to continue. “Why have you continued to keep us in the dark?”

  “Not all of those ships carried relevant data,” she explained. “Now, will you let me continue?” He nodded slowly. “The first courier was from Earth and left three days after you left.” She took a breath. “The ship confirmed what you’ve said—Earth is occupied by a large alien merc force.”

  The conference room erupted in demands for more information. Alexis held up her hands for quiet and waited. After a minute, everyone fell silent, and she spoke again.

  “The second ship was a regular courier from a base we have in the Coro region. No information related to our current situation was included. The last ship, which arrived two hours ago, was from Karma. All the ships that fled there were captured by another alien merc force. Aside from whatever units are out there on contracts, we’re all that’s left of Earth’s mercenaries.”

  * * *

  The merc company commanders spent some time trying to come to grips with the situation they’d found themselves in. Jim was numb. He’d gone along with Sansar’s plan because it made the most sense. Nobody expected an ambush at Karma, home of Earth’s closest merc pit; it was largely considered neutral ground. Until recently, there’d never been a battle in the system, even when bitter rivals were there at the same time. It was even harder to grasp, as he was still struggling to come to grips with Rick Culper’s inability to remember him.