by Eric Thomson
“When the siren goes off, don’t think, ‘Oh shit, not another drill.’ Remember that you’re about to fight for your lives. Make the crew remember this. There is only one reaction, and that is the right one. Not one reaction for a drill and one for a real attack. We seem to have grown remarkably lax of late.” Strachan glanced at Decker again.
“You all know we’re headed for Pradyn, out in the Shield. In three days, we cross out of Commonwealth space and into the badlands. I will run drills often and at unexpected moments, just to make sure we survive the trip.” The third officer seemed about to speak, but Strachan held up his hand. “There will be no discussion on this point. I know we’ve been without a gunner for a few runs, but we have one now. And he has more combat experience than anyone on this ship will ever have. When he speaks from the bridge during battle stations, take it as coming from me, and execute.”
Zack and the captain had spoken in private before the meeting, and the gunner had made several very blunt and very accurate comments about the combat readiness of the ship. Diego Strachan prided himself on running a steady operation, better than most, but Zack Decker’s merciless report on his vessel’s readiness had caused him to think again.
“It can’t be that bad, Gunner,” he had said. “I’ve been running ships across this arm of the galaxy for thirty years and yes, I’ve had a few close scrapes with pirates, but we’ve always come through without a scratch.”
“With all due respect, Captain,” Decker had replied, “it takes only once to see you dead. Your friendly neighborhood pirates are getting better ships and people all the time, and they’re getting a lot bolder. Where you might have been safe five years ago is now a hell’s gauntlet, especially in the Shield. No Fleet to cover you there. Shokoten’s a good ship, and the pirates would give their left and right nuts to get their slimy little hands on it. I mean, how often have you been in the Shield with her?”
Strachan shrugged but didn’t reply.
“Stop me if you know this one, Captain, but the first couple of times, reivers take a close look to figure out how much of a target you are: weapons, crew, cargo; stuff like that. When they have you pegged, they’ll find out when your next run is and jump. They have spies in just about every port in the Commonwealth. It doesn’t take much magic to pull an ambush across the border. Statistically, every new trip into the Badlands gets you one step closer to trouble.”
Strachan had stroked his beard as he stared out at space through his cabin’s porthole.
“You seem well informed, Gunner, and willing to part with intelligence I’m sure the military would rather keep quiet.” His tone was light, but the meaning in his eyes as he turned them back towards Decker, wasn’t.
Zack looked down uncomfortably.
“You pick up a lot when you serve in border patrols, and you hired me to do a job which I’m doing, Captain.”
A cruel smile tugged at Strachan’s lips. “Plus you have an interest in keeping this ship and your own skin out of pirate hands.”
Decker gave him a defiant stare.
“Normal enough, isn’t it, sir? But if you’re asking whether I fear the scum, I don’t. I could have been killed many times in the last twenty years. How often did you risk your life, Captain?”
Diego Strachan glared at the ex-Marine for a moment, then burst out laughing as he sat back in his chair.
“Fair enough question, Gunner. I like your spirit.” Then, as he became serious again, “what do you suggest we do?”
Decker had grinned, looking more than ever like a tough Marine Corps noncom, and had lectured his captain on turning his ship into a survivor, as he would do now, in front of the ship’s officers and bosun.
“Mister Decker will explain how we will become more efficient. Zack?”
The captain’s use of Warrant Officer Decker’s first name was not lost on anyone. First Officer Darhad looked at the others’ expressions with her predator’s eyes, amusement playing on her lips. They did not like the captain’s friendliness with a man who’d been on board for only a short time. In particular Third Officer Sonoda.
A good thing she didn’t have talons, Darhad mused as she extended and retracted her own. Otherwise, our gallant gunner would be torn to shreds.
Now why, she frowned, glancing at Warrant Officer Kiani, while Zack explained his plan, does Nihao give the impression she’d rather listen to a lecture on agricultural subsidies than give Decker the slightest bit of attention? Lokis is dead and won’t ever come back. Time to move on, girl. Darhad sighed. Though she’d been working with humans ever since she fled Arkanna many years ago, she would never fully understand many of their behavior patterns.
However, a man like Decker, she could understand. He was a born warrior, with primal instincts, a predator who could command an Arkanna’s respect. Which also meant he was very dangerous. A man to watch. But she’d known it the moment she’d seen him in the Aramis Guildhall.
“Thank you, Gunner. Any questions or comments?” Captain Strachan’s tone sufficed to discourage anyone but his first officer, and she agreed with his use of Decker’s warrior abilities. To do otherwise would have been wasteful.
“That’s it then. Meeting adjourned.”
Raisa Darhad watched her crewmates file out of the wardroom, whispering among themselves. If Zack Decker had impressed a few of them with his no-nonsense professionalism, he had also made several new enemies.
The men and women aboard Shokoten were no choir singers and made for dangerous adversaries. They lacked the discipline Decker would expect from any crew after a lifetime in the Marine Corps, and that made the lower decks dangerous for someone like him during the night watches.
*
The door to the cabin whisked open with a sighing sound and Nihao Kiani entered. Zack Decker looked up from his desk where he’d been tending to his disassembled blaster.
“Hiya, Mister Kiani. Done for the day?”
She grunted in reply and busied herself at her locker. Decker’s formal courtesy hadn’t impressed her. The old noncom was out of ideas on how to draw a human reaction from her, short of stripping naked and committing an indecent act. And even then, he suspected the dour purser would merely turn away and find some busywork.
Nihao stripped out of her duty uniform in silence while Zack reassembled his blaster, satisfied that it was still in perfect working condition. The Imps might be swine, but they knew how to build solid small arms.
Naked, a towel over her shoulder and a bottle of shampoo in her hand, Nihao stopped by the door to the washroom and looked at Zack, who was trying very hard not to admire her.
“You realize you made enemies today, Gunner.”
Decker glanced up in surprise, eyebrows raised. It was the first complete sentence Purser Kiani had spoken to him since he’d signed on.
“What?”
“Third Officer Sonoda is a vindictive woman, and it is clear she hates you. She also has friends on this ship, friends who will hate you too. Like the bosun. Take care of your back, Gunner. Being the captain’s friend won’t help you.”
Zack’s mouth ran away from him before he knew what he said.
“Is that what happened to my predecessor?”
Kiani gave him such a dark stare before vanishing into the cubicle that Decker felt like he’d just stepped into a minefield.
Engage brain before opening mouth, you ugly, stupid sonofabitch, he thought. Now see if she’ll talk to you again on this trip. Dammit, Decker, for a former top sergeant, you’re one hell of a dumb jackass.
He thought of stowing his blaster in his locker and then changed his mind. Discarding the holster in an empty drawer, he placed the gun on the small shelf above his bunk, where it would be instantly accessible. The shelf wasn’t a standard feature, Zack was sure of that. Now he had an idea why it might have been there. He lay back on his bunk, still dressed in a faded shirt and loose slacks.
When Nihao reappeared, she declined to even glance at Zack and remained silent as she to
weled off and prepared ready for bed. Decker spoke in a soft tone, eyes fixed on the bulkhead above him.
“Tell me, Mister Kiani, why did you warn me now, after ignoring me since I came aboard?”
She shrugged, still averting her gaze.
“I don’t know.”
Zack decided to let it go for now. After a few moments of silence, during which she climbed into her bunk and switched off the lights, he figured he might as well ask one question that had been bugging him.
“Shokoten isn’t exactly your run-of-the-mill merchant freighter, is she, Mister Kiani? Morale doesn’t seem too hot.”
Silence.
“I couldn’t just let you become a sitting duck,” she finally said, “not after what happened to Lokis.”
It took Zack a few seconds to realize she’d just answered his earlier question, and a few seconds more to remember that Lokis had been the former gunner, Nihao’s bunkmate.
“Why would I be a sitting duck?”
More silence.
“Just watch your back, Gunner. Shokoten is an efficient ship. Diego Strachan would tolerate nothing less. And he punishes transgressions without hesitation. But you are right. This is not an ordinary, boring freighter.”
Zack heard her turn and knew she wouldn’t say anything more.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but for the first time in a long time, rest wouldn’t come as ordered because his mind’s eye insisted on replaying the incident with the bosun earlier that day.
*
Like all Marine noncoms, Decker was used to a bit of carefully applied force to force the worst delinquents in line, or to convince them to leave the Corps. But he had his limits, and like most of his colleagues, could not stand gratuitous bullying. It smacked too much of cowardice and lack of leadership. That was why the bosun’s behavior angered him so much.
Zack was coming out of a gun turret, after a routine inspection, when angry voices and grunts of pain reached his ears. He stuck his head into the maintenance niche to satisfy his curiosity and found Gavin Alers, Shokoten’s bosun, inflicting a carefully measured beating on a crew member held up by two bosun’s mates.
Decker stepped in, grabbed the bosun’s massive forearm before he could strike again, and tossed him aside.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Alers?” Zack’s voice exuded menace.
“Mind your own business, Gunner,” the big man replied, narrowed black eyes gleaming with hate. “I’m bosun of this ship and will discipline the crew as I see fit.” He wiped a fleck of saliva from the corner of his mouth.
Alers had Decker’s height and weighed more than the retired Marine, but much of it was fat, not muscle. He wore gray coveralls from which he’d removed the sleeves, displaying bulging biceps and fantastic tattoos. His head was shaved except for a ponytail at the base of his skull, and a thin beard around his massive jaw. The bosun’s nose had been broken many times and lay flattened against his piggish face
“Not by beating the living crap out of them you won’t.”
“Oh?” Alers’ lips twisted into an evil grin. “You have no stomach for roughness, Marine? Then maybe you should get off this ship and take a berth on a luxury liner. As a pimp.”
Zack ignored the gibe. “What has this man done, Alers?”
“He disobeyed my orders, is what. And that’s none of your business. I report to the captain. Not the likes of you.”
“Somehow I doubt the captain has given you leave to beat up the crew.” But this shit explains why they aren’t exactly a happy bunch, what with a fucking bully like that running their lives. Does Strachan know what’s going on below decks and does he care?
“Ain’t none of your business either. Now get the fuck out of here, Mister Gunner, sir, and let the real workers go about their duties. We don’t need Fleet pansies on this ship.”
Without warning, Zack’s fist shot out and rammed into Alers’ large stomach. The bosun bent over, retching and fought to keep his balance. A light tap from Zack’s foot sent him sprawling across the deck. The gunner turned on the two stunned mates.
“Let him go, and tell that fat pig of a bosun if I ever catch him, or any of you beating up on the crew again, I will pop your fucking kneecaps.”
The two mates complied, and the frightened crewman vanished into the bowels of the ship, fearing with reason, that Alers would take it out on him later, to make up for the humiliation. He gave Decker a terrified glance before passing through the open airlock. The accusation implied by that glance shook Zack. He had let his temper lead him into a dangerous situation without thinking, again.
*
The incident had left a bad taste in his mouth, but not as bad as when he found out Alers’ victim had landed in sickbay two hours later, with several fractures, insisting he’d fallen down an emergency ladder.
Decker had sought out the bosun, but Alers had sneered and declared his innocence, challenging the gunner to call him a liar in front of his supporters. The lower decks had suddenly acquired a distinct taste of danger and Zack had prudently retreated.
He had kept quiet about the bosun’s disciplinary practices for the moment, at least until he could figure out whether he had the captain’s blessing or not. One thing was for sure. Alers would do his utmost to make Zack’s life a misery, and worse.
*
However, enemies or not, the next battle stations drill went much better. As Nihao had said, the captain wouldn't tolerate anything less, and Zack had the feeling that the crew had a healthy amount of fear for Strachan.
Kiani hadn't spoken to him anymore on the subject of the ship's morale, or his predecessor, but she started to thaw, and now at least she acknowledged his existence. Which made the cabin a more comfortable place to live, and that suited Zack.
So far, the purser was the closest thing to a friend he had. Although the captain was making like he and Decker were old bunkies, the ex-Marine knew it was an act either to win Zack's greater loyalty or piss-off some of the ship's other officers, or both. Or maybe something else altogether. But he didn't let his suspicions show.
The only person aboard in which he had any faith, apart from Nihao, was the first officer. Arkanna were supposed to be honorable people, in their own way, and that was something Decker could rely on, even if Raisa Darhad remained professionally distant. Still, he sometimes caught the alien woman looking at him, and for the descendant of a predatory species, she could only be measuring him up for food or for mating. Either thought made Zack shudder. But he felt a growing respect for her, because as an officer, she was good.
*
By the time Shokoten left the Commonwealth for alien space, Decker was confident they could beat off an attack by a single marauder, provided they detected the bastard far enough out, and the crooks had no traitor on board. It was a typical ploy to buy off a crew member or plant an agent whose job was to disable the ship and open her up for them.
Two bells in the evening watch rang through the ship, and Zack Decker crawled out of turret five's lower housing, his coveralls smeared with grease. The second officer hadn't assigned him any techs to help, and he doubted the engineer would volunteer any, should he ask, so the gunner had to do the repairs and maintenance checks on the ordnance himself. Zack didn't mind. It kept him away from the others and let him use his skills. Like all pros, Decker took pride in a job well done. The captain had hired him to make sure the weapons fired and hit the bad guys when the time came, and they would.
He wiped his hands on an old rag and pulled his tool case out of the narrow shaft. The intensive practices of the past week had put a strain on several moving components that hadn't been maintained since the former gunner died. Weaponry needed as much care and feeding as a small child, and it could be just as balky. This time, a small gimbal had cracked during a simulation. If something larger broke, he'd have no choice but to ask for help, and that could present issues.
A hatch clanked open, and Gavin Alers walked down the lower passageway with
two of his mates. Decker tried to ignore him as much as he could and behave like any ordinary warrant officer.
As the bosun and his mates came closer, Zack bent over to pick up his tool case and sling it over his shoulder. He leaned into the access tube again to retrieve the cracked gimbal, to show the captain. A bad tactical move, as he realized a moment later, but it was too late to recover without showing fear.
“Evening, Gunner.” A vicious grin twisted the bosun’s face as he came level with Zack. Then, without warning, he gave the warrant officer a powerful jab in the sternum with his elbow. Zack, who hadn't expected this sort of treachery, collapsed into the access tube, fighting for air and looked in surprise at the man's ugly smirk.
Before Decker could recover, the bosun gave him a shove that sent him further down the narrow shaft. Then, Alers slammed the hatch closed, and Zack heard the lock slide home. As he sat there, boiling with rage and struggling to get his breath back, Zack thought he could make out the bosun and his mates laughing, though he knew that was impossible. The hatch was designed to withstand vacuum and was therefore sound proof.
Once Decker got his anger under control, he remembered that the turret module could be depressurized from the passageway. Since he was still alive, it meant Alers wasn't trying to kill him. Yet. To escape, he would have to call the bridge and ask for someone to release the latch.
It would seemed as if Decker had forgotten to secure the mechanism before going inside, like a wet behind the ears tech on his first cruise. And if Zack tried to pin it on Alers, his mates would back any story the bosun cared to tell.
Not, this time, you fucking bastard. I've forgotten more about gun turrets than you'll ever learn, Alers.
It took Decker over an hour, during which he imagined the bosun waiting anxiously for his call for help.
But in the end, the access hatch surrendered to the ex-Marine's superior knowledge. Zack dismantled the locking mechanism from his side, by removing part of the bulkhead and the security overrides. It was an old trick he'd learned from a ship's engineer who told him about the surprising number of times he locked himself into a tube or another. Handy when boarding ships by stealth too.