Decker's War Omnibus 1

by Eric Thomson

  “What now?”

  “My people are combing the station, just in case, and I'll put some additional resources on his tail, but frankly, I don't think we can intercept the yacht in deep space. You know how hard it is to find a ship that doesn't want to be found. That's if I can even move the resources into place fast enough. I don't have a ship nearby to do it myself.” She glanced at Avril, a thoughtful look in her eyes. “It occurs to me that since he told you what he knew, the information he collected isn't lost.”

  Ducote's face hardened.

  “If I tell you what he told me, you no longer have a reason to save him.”

  “I could force you. There are methods,” Talyn replied with a shrug. When Avril's face tightened in anger, she continued. “But, before you kill me with your bare hands, I won't. He clearly means a lot to you, and to be frank, I feel an obligation towards him. I dreamed up the plan that placed Decker on Shokoten as an unwitting plant. A Pathfinder major reminded me, not that long ago, that there are values beyond winning or losing, and we forget them at our peril, or we become no better than our enemies. He was right, and this is one of those times where the values come first.”

  Ducote stared at Talyn warily.

  “Your ship can take us to Pacifica,” the agent continued. “We may have a chance if I can arrange for a Fleet transport to meet us on the way and deliver a specially modified assault shuttle. You realize it may not work.”

  Avril Ducote nodded once, but her face plainly showed relief mixed in with the anguish. Surprising herself, Talyn reached out and squeezed Ducote's hand.

  “Our chances are fair. The Sécurité Spéciale is good, but no bogeyman.”

  “And what is it?”

  “Bad news, Captain.”

  “Call me Avril, please.” She held out her hand.

  “And I'm Hera.”

  “The Sécurité Spéciale is a civilian intelligence agency that answers only to the Secretary General of the Commonwealth. It replaced the old Special Security Bureau wiped out by Grand Admiral Kowalski years ago. That's one hell of a story in itself, by the way. The problem with the Sécurité Spéciale is it doesn't actually serve the Commonwealth as a whole, but the SecGen and the Coalition, a bunch of people just as nasty as their agents.”

  “I’ve heard the name of the Coalition whispered before, but who are they, and what do they want? Or is that classified?”

  “It is, but only so they don't find out how much we know. The Coalition is a grouping of senators, planetary politicians, military officers, and businesspeople like the Amalis, who dream of turning the Commonwealth into an Empire, with themselves at the center, as a new aristocracy. They want to return the Outworlds to their subsidiary status as they were before the Migration Wars. These days, the Navy has its hands full trying to make sure no one takes the first step towards something we'll all regret. At least the part of the armed forces based in the Outworlds. The others, well, you can imagine.”

  “That sounds appalling.”

  “You better believe it. If you ask me, this old Commonwealth of ours is headed for the biggest shit hole since the last Migration War, and that's why I'm in this crappy line of business. I'm not saying all that justifies what I did to Decker. But it worked where all our earlier efforts didn't. With the kind of stakes in this game...”

  *

  Demetria left Deveaux Station within the hour, her offloading and departure miraculously smoothed by Talyn’s connections. At the minimum safe distance, she jumped into hyperspace towards a rendezvous point, halfway between Dordogne and Pacifica.

  Their meeting with the unnamed spy ship didn’t delay their flight by very much. Yet, by the time Demetria released the modified Warthog in the Pacifica system’s inner asteroid field, the fast yacht had gained several days on them.

  Though trying to keep up hope, for Ducote’s sake, Talyn privately doubted she’d be able to retrieve Decker in time, if she even found him. Masquerading as a courier, the Warthog slipped into low orbit, timing her descent so it was night over the island. The shuttle sailed down, all systems off, in full stealth mode and Talyn searched for a sign of the special beacon disguised as a badge on Amali’s private island.

  When the Warthog was low enough to track the beacon and pinpoint Zack’s location, a dawn storm was already blanketing the area. Talyn had to switch back to full power to slice through the tempest, alerting the island’s guardians in the process. Fortunately, that same storm screwed with their systems just long enough...

  *

  “...and then I dropped out of the cloud cover, just in time to see the heroic tableau of Zack Decker's last stand in the pounding surf. The rest, as they say, is history.” Talyn allowed an ironic smile to tug at her thin lips.

  “If you had showed up a few minutes later, you wouldn't have found a Zack Decker anymore. But I’d have given the bastards one hell of a case of indigestion, I can tell you that.” Zack downed the rest of the whiskey and looked at Talyn with suspicion.

  “Tell me, Commander, how the hell did I get mixed up in all this. I was just minding my own business on Aramis, crawling into a bottle every night, and blowing my pension on booze.”

  There was more than a hint of anger in Decker's voice, a subtle warning he wouldn’t accept bullshit. Avril squeezed his hand reassuringly as Talyn looked at them in turn, clearly deciding how much she could say.

  “The Navy's been keeping a close eye on all Amali activities since we shut down one of the Coalition's covert programs last year. Success has been hard to come by because the Amalis and their cronies enjoy the full support of Sécurité Spéciale resources. On the off-chance, we placed undercover agents on all of Amali's ships, including Shokoten, which was a special target because it was fast, well-armed and good for solo runs into the badlands.”

  “Harwan Lokis,” Zack said in a flat tone.

  “Yes, though that wasn't his real name. He was a Navy lieutenant, and a good operative. The Sécurité Spéciale was on to him pretty fast and murdered him on Pradyn.”

  “It was Nihao Kiani.”

  “We suspected as much. Thank you for confirming it, Sergeant.”

  “Don't bother looking for revenge, sir. Her body is dust in a Pacifica casbah.”

  “You?”

  “Raisa and me. And a Shrehari disruptor.”

  Strangely, the thought of the formidable Arkanna and the sound of her name didn't give him anything more than a quick twinge of pain and emptiness.

  “Thank you again. That saves me an assassination.” She took a sip of her coffee. “After Lokis' death, we were without a mole on Shokoten, and that made us nervous, since she was the most likely for any covert operations, especially now that the Amali's tame reiver clan is history. If you believe in fate or the gods, then it was preordained that a solution to our dilemma would walk right into our hands.”

  “Me.”

  “Right again.”

  “So Tren Kinnear works for you, does he?” Zack growled, eyes narrowing in anger. “The slimy bastard. He'll feel my fist on his face when I see him again.”

  Avril squeezed Decker's hand, as much in support as to contain his rising anger.

  “Kinnear is a casual, not an operative. He runs a popular tavern at a major spaceport, so he hears and sees things. And he passes those things on to us.”

  “Out of sheer altruism, right?” Zack’s words dripped with sarcasm.

  “Mostly, yes,” Talyn replied, ignoring his tone. “At first, Tren Kinnear came to us on his own with information, out of a feeling of loyalty and duty. Since then, he's been a valuable asset. And before you ask, he's never accepted a single cred in payment. He’s a very proud man.”

  Zack grunted in disbelief.

  “When your little problem with the police happened, and Kinnear took you in, he told us about it and asked us to help keep things quiet, as a return favor for his work. That's when I pulled your personal file and had a brainstorm.” Talyn smiled sadly. “Sergeant, I think by retiring you early, th
e Marine Corps cut off its nose to spite its face.”

  Decker glanced away in embarrassment.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Since the Sécurité Spéciale had uncovered Lokis, I figured someone who wasn't an agent but with the brains to work things out on his own might do the trick. You fit the profile and would make an excellent merchant ship gunner. I instructed Kinnear to set up your recruitment aboard Shokoten the next time Captain Strachan came in and to make both you and he believe this was merely one ex-Marine trying to do a favor for another. I had hoped that if you found something dangerous to the Fleet or to the Commonwealth, you'd feel it was your duty to pass it along, and that you'd know danger when you saw it. Kinnear wanted you to be fully briefed and not sent in as a dupe.”

  “Yeah, right,” Zack muttered, shaking his head, “and I'm a Verdanian hermaphrodite.”

  “Then don't believe me, if you like,” Talyn briefly glanced at the ceiling, as if praying for patience. “But I vetoed that idea. If you went in as an agent, the Sécurité Spéciale would have you marked within days, and we'd be back where we were.”

  “So you sent me a trinket to remind me of my oath to the Corps. Once a Marine, always a Marine.”

  “Something like that, yes, and to give us the means to track you. We had an agent watching at every port, ready to reel you in if you gave signs of wanting to speak.”

  “Except Pacifica, the night we went into the casbah.”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I can tell when I'm being watched, a sort of sixth sense.”

  “I'm impressed. That night in Hadley, our watcher vanished. He was probably caught in the net the Sécurité Spéciale was closing around you.”

  “How did you guys plant that badge on me anyways?”

  “I slipped it in your pocket in that rowdy bar on Pradyn, just before Shokoten's first officer joined you.”

  “You?”

  Talyn smiled.

  “I was the Ungaran spacer beside you.”

  “I'll be damned,” Decker shook his head with grudging admiration. Ungarans were the most human-like of all Shield races, but still... “You're good, sir.”

  “Does that mean you're no longer pissed-off at me?” Talyn raised her eyebrows.

  “Yeah.” Zack shook his head slowly. “When all's said and done, your plan worked. Knowing what I now know, I'd do it all over again. That fucker Amali is just too damn dangerous.”

  “Spoken like a true Pathfinder.”

  Decker acknowledged the compliment with a wry smile.

  “After twenty years, it's damn hard to break some habits.”

  “I'm glad to hear it, Sergeant because I must ask you to do something else.”

  “Yes, sir, I'll do it, sir. I'll lead in that follow-on force you mentioned.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. That will be a great help.”

  “Hey, Commander, I know the difference between a mission based on a briefing and one that's guided by someone who's actually seen the target up close.”

  “No!” Avril Ducote's voice stilled the others. She glared at Talyn indignantly.

  “Zack has already done more than enough for you. He’s no longer a Marine. Why should he go risk his life again? Let your follow-on force do it without him.” Then, her tone dropped to a whisper. “I don't want to risk losing him again.”

  Decker took her hand.

  “This is something I must do, Avril. If it saves a single Marine's life, the risk will be worth it, and I have a promise to keep. I told Amali I would kill him myself.”

  “You hear the sound of the bugles, and you have to go? Once a Marine always a Marine? Go then, Zachary Decker, and be damned. Just don't be surprised if I don't wait for you.”

  Then, before tears overwhelmed her, she fled the galley.

  “Sorry, Sergeant.”

  “Don't be, sir. I can understand why she's upset. Me, I can look at this mission and not think about whether I'll be coming back or not. It isn't in my nature; otherwise, I'd never have made it as a Pathfinder. So I don't look at it as a chance to die, only as an opportunity to make the scumbags die. Avril will come around.”

  “I hope so, Sergeant, for she and her ship will have a role to play in the operation.”

  “I figured as much. So who's the follow-on force?”

  Before Talyn could answer, emergence nausea overcame them.

  “We're at the rendezvous,” she said when it passed. “Let's head for the cockpit and see if they've arrived,” she replied instead, a sphinxlike smile on her face.

  Avril was behind the controls of her ship. Without turning around to face them, she said, in a savage tone, “We're here, Commander.”

  “Whatever happened to Hera?” the agent asked.

  “I can’t be friendly with the woman who blew on the damned bugle, knowing my shipmate would respond like a hunting dog to the hunt master's call.”

  Zack placed both hands on Avril's shoulders and squeezed.

  “Hey, take it easy, girl. I'm doing this because I want to, not because a spook manipulated me.” He glanced at Talyn, eyes apologizing for the unflattering description. The agent smiled back.

  “Anyway, I won't be going in alone, like last time. If I survived on my own, imagine with a full strike force.”

  “Promise you’ll come back?”

  “Hey, I promised when I left the ship at Deveaux. I came back didn't I?”

  “Yes,” she finally replied, grudgingly, “with a bit of a delay.”

  “Not my fault, Avril. Complain to Walker Amali. Or shall I give him your compliments when I put out his lights?”

  “I don't care, Zack. Just come back.”

  He was about to reply when a flash of light out in space caught his eye.

  “Ship emerging, Commander. And damn close too. Either they have a good sailing master, or the captain's a hot-dogger.”

  “Both, Sergeant. That's them.”

  They waited in silence, watching the growing spark off their port bow. As the ship neared, Zack could make out its shape.

  “Hey, that's a bloody patrol frigate.” His heart beat faster as he recognized a ship just like the one he'd called home for several years. Happy years.

  “It’s the patrol frigate Charles Martel.”

  “The 251st,” Zack said in a low voice.

  “Indeed. They're the follow-on force. The 251st has been doing jobs lately that never officially happened.”

  “A spook commando?”

  “Something like that. Unofficially, they work for my bureau in Naval Intelligence. Do you know them?”

  “Some. Like their sergeant-major. Most of the other noncoms too. Corps' a small place.”

  “So I hear, and the Pathfinder community even smaller. Not to throw aspersions on your old unit but the 251st are the best of the best. That's why they get the prize missions.”

  Zack nodded, only half hearing Talyn. His mind had returned to the days when he wore black battledress with the six silver stripes and crossed swords of his rank. When he had lived on board Charles Martel's sister ship Musashi and led the thirty Pathfinders of Third Troop, 902nd Pathfinder Squadron. The days when he felt alive and happy, respected, known as a master craftsman in his chosen profession. He'd give his everything to return to that life.

  If he hadn't accepted this mission before, he would now. A chance to finish off Amali by being a Pathfinder for the best Pathfinder outfit in the Fleet was enough to give him goose bumps.

  *

  “Demetria, this is the Commonwealth Starship Charles Martel, Simon Dubois commanding.”

  Zack snapped out of his reverie and looked at Avril. “They're calling you.”

  “Oh, right,” Ducote replied, sounding as if she too had lost herself in contemplation. “This is Demetria, Avril Ducote commanding.”

  “Is there a Commander Talyn on board?”

  “Yes. Hera,” Avril pointed at her commo console, “go ahead.”

  “Talyn here, Captain Dubois. Eve
rything's good. Sergeant Decker is with us, and he's agreed to go with the squadron. I suggest we dock Demetria with your ship.”

  “Agreed. Stand by for tractor beam lock, Captain Ducote. We shall pull you in and mate the ships at our keel airlock. When we have you, please cut all engines.”

  “Demetria standing by.”

  With a smoothness born of long practice, the frigate's crew gently took the small trader into their tractor beam's embrace and mated her to the underside of the bigger vessel with barely a shudder. When the airlocks were pressurized, Talyn touched Avril's arm.

  “I shall need you both at the briefing.”

  She looked at Zack with a critical eye. His cuts and bruises were still livid, but he still looked the part of a tough ex-Marine, in his old, black battledress with the Imperial Armaments blaster on his hip. The only insignia he wore was the Master Gunner's badge, but nobody would fail to recognize him as a combat-hardened noncommissioned officer.

  Talyn in the lead, they climbed the ladder to the upper airlock. The hatches opened smoothly, and Zack inhaled the achingly familiar smell of a warship under sail when they left the trader and clambered aboard the frigate.

  Zack barely noticed the figures waiting by the hatch as he stepped into the ship. Snapping to attention, he saluted first towards the bow of the frigate where in the days of ocean-going ships the national ensign had flown, then the officer of the deck who happened to be the captain himself.

  “Permission to come aboard, sir.”

  “Permission granted, Sergeant Decker. Welcome.” Commander Dubois shook Decker's hand after returning the salute.

  Another officer stepped forward and held out his hand. He was tall, almost as tall as Zack and a few years younger, but his weathered face and old eyes hinted a long time spent on the frontier. Pale hair, blue eyes, with a hawk's nose and a firm chin, he would have looked intimidating to a civilian, but to Decker, he looked like one of his own.

  “Major Kal Ryent, CO of the 251st. Glad to have you on board. I understand you saw the inside of the target.”