Decker's War Omnibus 1

by Eric Thomson

  “Sure.”

  Zack lazily pulled his blaster out and worked the action, showing that he’d cleared it.

  “I don’t like them either. When I discharge anything, it’s always on purpose and well-aimed.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Lora added, eyes dancing with merriment, but the double-entendre passed well over the Tortugans’ heads.

  They were led through a warren of passageways to an immense cylindrical cavern at the heart of the asteroid. The main habitat area, it seemingly spun around a central shaft that provided illumination to open bazaars, closed buildings, and parks dense with vegetation from a dozen worlds.

  The rotation of the station provided all the gravity they needed, though looking straight up at the other side of the cylinder, half a kilometer away and thereby looking down on the opposite surface, made Zack feel dizzy.

  “Quite the set-up,” he commented. “It must have taken a lot of time and money to excavate.”

  “Apparently the original owners found the asteroid already mostly hollowed out,” Berand replied. “They simply made sure it was sealed and gave it a bit more spin. It’s been around for a couple of centuries so they’ve had time to improve, though I suppose they could invest in a few cleaning droids. It seems some of the visitors don’t exactly share our definition of hygiene.”

  “Must be expensive to maintain.”

  “When you’ve got a monopoly on lucrative business lines in the Coalsack, it kind of pays for itself I suppose.”

  “I think I’m going to dislike the price tag on the parts we need,” Zack said.

  “Likely.” Berand shrugged. “We don’t have many alternatives. It’s still a long way to the nearest Commonwealth outpost.”

  Tortuga wasn’t nearly as crowded as Decker had expected it to be, though he saw beings of many species, most of which ignored them. He thought their exotic head tattoos would attract attention, but perhaps the station was one of those places where anything went.

  Not even their distinctly military uniforms and side arms drew curious eyes. They passed a large number of businesses designed to cater to the baser desires of sentients who ply the star lanes. Judging by the sounds, odors, and garish sights, his troops could get into real trouble on the station if he let them off the ship. Glancing at Lora, he saw that she had come to the same conclusion.

  “We’d better get what we need fast and do the repairs under way,” she muttered for Zack’s ears only, “otherwise we might not get away at all.”

  “If only we had a juluk pit on board,” he joked, “as an incentive for the lads and lasses to keep their collective noses clean.”

  “Not funny.” She elbowed him in the ribs, her arm almost bouncing off the hard muscle beneath his battledress. “If we have to, we can make it small parties, with the platoon leaders and sergeants liable for any trouble; no splitting up and instant demotions for defaulters, not to mention sludge vat cleaning duties as a bonus.”

  “It might work.”

  They walked up a short flight of steps and into a broad building with little to distinguish it from the others on that street. Inside, it seemed like any busy corporate office Zack had ever seen, which, if truth be told, wasn’t something he’d come across much in his life.

  The guards led them down a quiet corridor to a small waiting room with a few bare chairs and a battered drinks dispenser.

  “Wait here until you’re called.” The male half of the duo pointed at uncomfortable-looking seats. “Don’t wander off, or you’ll have security on your ass in seconds.”

  Then they were gone.

  “Delightful,” Lora commented as she scrutinized the labels on the old machine. “I wouldn’t try anything that comes out of this. By my guess, it hasn’t been cleaned or maintained for so long that the fungus you’d find inside could probably cure just about anything, including a too deep attachment to life.”

  Luckily, the wait wasn’t long enough for her to contemplate taking it apart, just on general principles. A rather exquisite looking human male appeared as if by magic and made small ‘follow me’ gestures with his long, slender fingers. He took them through a sliding door and into a rather opulent office that reeked of old tobacco if Zack’s nostrils weren’t leading him astray. A fat, pouty, middle-aged man with a thick mop of hair sat behind a desk big enough for a five-some, glowering at them as they walked in. He waved a pudgy hand at a trio of chairs.

  “Please sit, Captain Berand and company. I am Kon Tragg, business manager for the Tortuga Corporation. Ser Flawent is occupied at the moment and has asked me to take over this deal.”

  The breathless quality of his hoarse voice spoke of a man unused to physical activity.

  Berand nodded politely.

  “May I present Major Decker, commanding officer of Decker’s Demons and Captain Cyone, his adjutant?”

  “Decker’s Demons?” Tragg sounded surprised. “A strange name for soldiers bearing the mark of the silahdar.”

  “You’re familiar with the silahdar?” Zack didn’t bother hiding his surprise.

  Tragg nodded.

  “The Atabek’s slave soldiers are known even on this side of the Coalsack, if only by a few cognoscenti of the trade. I do find it difficult to believe that you’ve escaped and set up your own mercenary business.”

  “And yet here we are,” the ex-Marine replied with an evil grin. “We’re fresh off a contract on the other side, headed for our next one.”

  The man rubbed the side of his jowls, contemplating them silently.

  “What you do is, of course, none of my business, provided you stick to Tortugas’ rules and pay what you owe. One of the rules is that you don’t bring trouble to this station, so I have to ask, is someone on your trail? The Atabek of Danjor is not known for letting anyone escape, ever. Once a slave belongs to him, he dies in his service.”

  “We came across two ships lurking on the far side of the nebula, looking for us,” Decker replied. “I gave them a little taste of plasma before we went FTL, but we picked up some hyperspace wakes too close to our course for coincidence. When they emerge beyond the Coalsack and realize we’re nowhere in sight, they might wonder.”

  “Thank you for your honesty, major. Slavers aren’t welcome on Tortuga, so they’d have no way of finding us quickly, if at all, and they won’t be allowed to dock.”

  At Decker’s surprised look, Tragg smiled.

  “The one thing that gives legitimate governments with big warships heartburn is slave taking and getting them annoyed at us wouldn’t be good for business. Enough money flows through Tortuga that we don’t need the flesh trade.”

  “Makes sense.” Zack nodded.

  “Now then, enough small talk. You’ve transmitted a list of parts you wish to purchase. We can provide those, but I’m afraid the price is in line with their importance to a starship’s continuing operations.” He pushed a pad towards Berand. “Take a look and then tell me what you have that can meet the price.”

  The merchantman blanched as he scanned the readout, and then passed it over to Decker, who tilted it sideways so Cyone could see.

  “I’d call it highway robbery,” he said, shaking his head, “but then I’d have to forget I’m in the biggest den of thieves in the Orion arm.”

  “We do pride ourselves on being the best, major,” Tragg replied smoothly, taking the insult as a compliment. “If you’re unable to pay, I can suggest alternate arrangements.”

  “Oh? And what might they be?”

  “The Atabek has a reputation for producing superb soldiers, and we’re always in need of good security here.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t condone slavery,” Zack glowered at him.

  “You misunderstand. Some good troops staying here under contract at a preferential rate might significantly reduce the outlay for the spare parts.”

  Something about the way he said it triggered Decker’s bullshit detectors. Lora seemed to have sensed the same thing, judging by the look she gave him.

>   “Do you perchance have an infestation of some sort, Mister Tragg, one that your security folks can only contain, not eradicate?”

  “What makes you say that?” The man lost nothing of his oily smoothness.

  “You have perfectly serviceable guards, judging by the muscle-bound duo you sent to greet us. Granted, they don’t seem to be much in the brains department, but that shouldn’t be a problem in a confined space like this.”

  Tragg’s small, dark eyes hardened.

  “You’re very perceptive, Major Decker. One of my underlings made the unfortunate mistake of renting out a section of the galleries to a syndicate from – well, it’s not important where they’re from – suffice to say these folks decided they didn’t need to abide by the letter of the contract and are refusing to pay rent or to leave. That underling, of course, no longer works for us in any capacity.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a job for soldiers.”

  “If you’ll just let me finish.”

  “Sorry.” Zack didn’t sound at all contrite.

  “This syndicate, they call themselves the Kalin Partnership, have damaged several of my security guards and while they don’t cause trouble unless provoked, they don’t allow anyone to enter the section of the galleries they’ve taken over.”

  “So it’s like they’ve set themselves up as independents.” Decker nodded. “I presume they have the firepower to keep your guys away and managed to configure those galleries so that you can’t just cut off their air, water or whatever.”

  “It gets worse,” Tragg sighed. “They also have access to a docking array, through which they get their supplies and ship their wares. Indeed, they’ve taken a part of Tortuga and seceded from it, along with almost a third of our guns.”

  “What are these galleries?”

  “An area where mining operations drilled out a maze of passages and chambers. We took the metals present in the asteroid as raw materials for the station.”

  “Do you have a schematic?”

  “Of course.” Tragg waved away the question, showing some irritation for the first time. “Might you be contemplating a proposal to take care of the Kalin Partnership in return for the parts?”

  “I’ll have to see how costly this is going to be first, hence the schematic. Rat-hole fighting can get bad real fast if you don’t have powered armor and I don’t. My combat skimmers aren’t going to be of much use, and neither is my artillery. Getting those Kalin critters out of their tunnels is pure infantry work, and if they know their ass from a fusion reactor, they’re going to make it really hard for anyone to get at them. Like you said, the Atabek produces top shelf soldiers, and I’d rather not waste them on your problem if it means I’ll lose a bunch in the process. I’ve got another contract to get to.”

  “But without the scrubber parts, for one,” Tragg smiled, “you’ll not make it, so this debate is purely academic. I know from looking at Captain Berand that he doesn’t have the money. What he has is cargo to trade, and you seem to be that cargo, major. Please turn your attention to the screen on your left.”

  Zack got up and went over to the three-dimensional image of a rabbit warren of galleries that had materialized by the far wall. Cyone quickly joined him and the two ex-Marines studied the schematic in silence, nodding when Tragg, without being prompted, displayed all of what was known about the Kalin.

  “What do you think?” Lora murmured.

  “I’d rather sell the gear, but I think our Mister Tragg knows he has us over the barrel and will offer bottom cred for it. We’re the best solution that’s come by ever since his problem started. But,” he shrugged, “it’s doable. The heavies have decent armor and can do the breaching work. We’ll have to make sure that none of the tunnels are close enough to the surface that a stray round could compromise the asteroid’s integrity. There’s nothing worse than hearing air whoosh out into space when you don’t have a suit.”

  “So?”

  Decker turned around and faced Tragg.

  “We clean out the Kalin, and we get everything on Captain Berand’s list, plus a bonus of fresh food and drink, including ale, for two hundred humans for several weeks. I presume you’re not fussy about our methods and don’t need any of them alive by the end of it?”

  Tragg’s jaw worked for a few moments while he considered the offer. It clearly wasn’t all to his liking, that much Zack could read on his face, but he also knew the ex-Marine had made him the best offer he was likely to get. Trained soldiers didn’t exactly cross the Coalsack every other day.

  “You have yourself a deal, major.”

  *

  In twos and threes, soldiers straggled off Dragonfly ostensibly to take some shore leave, though an observer with a suspicious mind would have wondered why they were all carrying small packs, or in the case of the heavy platoon, somewhat larger bags. None seemed to stop at any of the more or less enticing amusement spots, no matter how hard the various shills tried to pull them off the streets and into dingy bars or cathouses.

  It had taken Decker and his officers less than six hours to come up with a plan that would survive at least until the first contact with the enemy. After that, even Zack would have little control of the battle. Rat-hole fighting was a squad leader’s war. A lot of the opening round would depend on how alert the Kalin were. If they figured out the soldiers with the head tattoos weren’t out for a good time, the element of surprise would be lost, and that could mean additional casualties.

  There were four possible entrances to the galleries, one of which was used by the Kalin as their primary access to the interior. The other three were blocked on both sides, two of them since well before the syndicate had taken over that end of the station.

  Decker stared through the polarized window of an empty office suite sitting at the top of a commandeered warehouse, studying the main entrance, as if he could magically divine what the enemy was up to. Hand-held sensors weren’t great shakes at penetrating rock, especially if it had a high percentage of metal, but what they could pick up was a concentration of bodies, weapons and presumably detection gear where they expected them.

  A quick reconnaissance of the other entry points hadn’t revealed much beyond the fact that the Kalin didn’t seem to be wasting any effort guarding them. It didn’t mean, however, that there were no booby traps and the breaching squads would have to be careful.

  “The temptation to storm through that big hole is pretty high,” Lora remarked, her eyes on a small tactical display that showed where each trooper was. “I’ve always liked shock and awe.”

  “Sure. Satisfying too,” he replied absently, still examining the target, “but I prefer surprise to shock and awe. One of them just stuck his head out and looked around. Do you think they got wind that something’s up?”

  “Scummy critters like that often have a sixth sense, just like the scurrying little animals they resemble.”

  Tran Kidder, whose platoon was waiting in reserve downstairs, came up to join them in the improvised command post.

  “The boys in place yet?”

  Decker turned his head and nodded.

  “Sal’s got the secondary entrances rigged. With any luck, the explosives will shake those hatches loose and set off any booby traps.”

  “Let’s hope there aren’t any. If the heavies and Nik’s platoon can do the work by themselves, I’ll be just as happy. I never liked this kind of fighting, if you want to know the truth.”

  Lora smiled thinly.

  “That just shows you’re a sensible man.” Three little icons flashed on her display. “They’ve set off the breaching charges.”

  Zack turned up the magnification in his visor and scanned the main entrance.

  “Nothing’s moving.”

  “That you can see,” Lora corrected him.

  “You know, for an adjutant, you're kind of lippy with your commanding officer.”

  “Funny, you’ve never complained about my lips before,” she retorted.

  Tran shook his head, a
mused that they could toss innuendo around even though the operation had started.

  “I guess I’d better leave you to it.” He turned and ambled down the stairs, footsteps ringing loudly in the cavernous building.

  “All three teams are in; no booby traps, no resistance.” Cyone stared at the data feed from the squad leaders’ battle computers.

  “Okay, something’s set the Kalin off – they’re stirring by the main entrance like they’ve been kicked in the nuts.” Decker rose from his crouch, carbine in hand. “They’ve left one man at the checkpoint.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’ve just had a very good idea.”

  “Changing the plan in mid-stream is never a very good idea.”

  “Why do you think we’ve got a reserve right here, where we can use it at any time, like when I see the enemy make a mistake we can exploit?”

  “Just be careful, Zack. I’ll have Jase send up third platoon to reconstitute our reserve, as per good old doctrine.”

  He waved at her as he clattered down the steps, bellowing at Tran to get his troops moving.

  “What’s up, boss?” The platoon leader jogged towards him as soldiers formed up in ranks.

  “The Kalin have left the main entrance with only one man. Big mistake. We’re going to give him the shock and awe treatment. Take your platoon there as fast as you can and seize the bloody thing. What happens after that we’ll figure out on the fly, and that’s why I’m right behind you, in case you were wondering.”

  “Got it. Squad leaders – on me,” he shouted, waving over his non-coms. After quick orders, treating it like a routine hasty attack, the platoon ran out of the warehouse, in small fire teams, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. After seeing the platoon sergeant out with the support weapons, Decker fell in with the back of the column, at once elated to be running into the thick of things and embarrassed at having given into the desire.

  The lone Kalin didn’t stand a chance. One round from Kidder’s platoon sharpshooter laid him down for good. They were cautiously crossing the security barrier, alert for any remote weapon stations when gunfire echoed through the corridors, proof positive that the other platoons had met the enemy.