by Eric Thomson
Zack chuckled at the mental image.
“More so once they find out I’m in charge.”
*
It ended up taking over a week, but the Atabek’s hunters would be returning home empty handed, no doubt to the slave master’s fury, for Dragonfly emerged at the Yotai hyperlimit without any more doubtful encounters.
“Captain,” Markus reported after a lengthy scan, “I make out a Navy ship in orbit. IFF has her as the Rodrigo Diaz, frigate.”
“The good old El Cid. Excellent.” Decker grinned broadly, rubbing his hands. “When we’re close enough for a radio link without time lag, I’d like to speak to them.”
“El Cid?”
“Didn’t you study your medieval history, Dirk? El Cid was the nickname of Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, supposedly a fierce military leader back in the day.”
Berand shrugged languidly.
“I’m sure it’s a fascinating story, but I have more important things to memorize, like the private subspace address of someone who can help me sell off all that lovely military gear you’re giving me as payment for your passage.”
“Just make sure the Fleet doesn’t get wind of it. They might not be too happy about the sale of unapproved, alien technology, even if it’s a few generations behind ours.”
“And that’s why, when we land or dock somewhere, you and your people are going run off Dragonfly as fast as your little legs will allow so I can leave quickly.” He shrugged, nodding at the Yotai system schematic the second officer had called up. “You might as well go take a nap or something. We won’t be in range for a few hours.”
“I’ll give ‘or something’ a try.” He waved his fingers at Berand and returned to his cabin, hoping that Cyone wasn’t otherwise occupied.
*
When Decker stepped back on the bridge, a lean, hard face was staring out from the main screen, the face of a naval officer with three stripes on each shoulder.
“I’m Commander Nayaf, Captain Berand. What can the Navy do for you today?”
“I’ve got a passenger who wants to speak with you, commander.” He nodded at Zack to step into video pick up range.
Nayaf’s eyes widened in surprise at Decker’s outlandish head decorations and his unfamiliar uniform.
“Sir, my name is Zachary T. Decker, late of the 9th Marine Regiment. Might I ask you to please look up the code ‘rookie trooper sigma one seven three alpha’ in your classified data banks?”
Both captains stared at him for a few moments, Berand without understanding, Nayaf with a knowing look. He turned his head to the side and nodded at someone.
“It’ll just take a moment, Mister Decker.” He glanced down at his command chair’s console. “Or should I say Warrant Officer Decker.”
“Sir?” Zack frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“You are Warrant Officer Decker, Commonwealth Marine Corps, Reserve, detailed to intelligence, are you not?”
“I suppose so, sir, but last time I checked, I was a command sergeant.”
“Congratulations for your promotion are in order then.” Nayaf’s quick smile verged on the sardonic. “It says that you vanished without a trace almost a year ago. And now that you’re back, I’m to send a specially coded message to your former superiors.”
“If you would please, sir.”
“I actually don’t have a choice in the matter, Mister Decker. The recognition code you just gave me means I’m bound to assist you in your travels. Is there anything you need in the immediate, while we wait for a reply from headquarters?”
“Sir, I’ve drafted an after action report of sorts that should go with the message. You see, I brought a company group’s worth of former slave soldiers back with me from the trans-Coalsack sector, and the Fleet is going to have to make arrangements concerning repatriation. Well, at least repatriation of those who were born in the Commonwealth. Sorry to be cryptic but it gets complicated fast. My report has the details.”
“My, my,” Nayaf’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re quite the dark horse, aren’t you? I shall be reading your communiqué with keen interest. Do you need food, medical supplies or sundries?”
“No sir, but thank you for offering. We took on enough at our last stop to get us to the nearest Fleet installation, with some to spare.” Berand caught his eye, and he nodded. “We did, for a while, have a pair of ships on our tail, though, commissioned by our former owner to bring us back in chains and and hand us over for summary execution. They were last on our sensors when we transited through the nebula, but there’s a chance they might come this far. The consequences for failing to recapture us are likely to be brutal so they’ll be persistent.”
“Understood. I’ll have Yotai control assign an orbit that allows us to protect you from any interlopers. I suspect my orders will be to escort you back anyway, so we might as well get better acquainted. Perhaps you could shuttle over when you’ve arrived. I confess myself curious with Warrant Officer Decker’s story and willing to spring for a quiet meal to hear it in person.”
“Much appreciated, captain. We accept.” Berand dipped his head briefly.
“If that’s all for now, I’ll expect your report shortly, Mister Decker, and then we’ll see each other over a meal. Rodrigo Diaz, out.”
“Well isn’t that a kick in the pants.” The master of Dragonfly looked at Zack suspiciously.
“What is, Dirk?”
“You being a Fleet intelligence spook and all. That’s quite the mission you just pulled off.”
Zack laughed bitterly.
“As you might have heard Nayaf mention, I’m reserve and more to the point, inactive reserve, like every trained Marine who’s honorably discharged. I did do some small stuff for intelligence at one point, and I suppose they’ve kept tabs on me. What happened from the moment those damn pirates showed up to kidnap me was exactly as I told you. I was nothing more than a simple trader, doing my stuff shifting cargo from planet to planet.”
“And yet you have a code that gets us protection from a Navy frigate, no questions asked.” Heavy sarcasm mixed with skepticism in Berand’s tone.
Decker shrugged.
“They told me it was to prove my identity if I ever needed to duck and hide under the Fleet’s skirts. Some people out there with a grudge against me might want to take it a step too far. I had no idea they’d reported me missing and made sure that if ever I showed up, the Navy would carry me home.”
“Well,” Berand rose and stretched, “I suppose it’ll simplify things for us. Jenny can handle the approach, and I find myself thirsty all of a sudden. How about you, Zack?”
*
The shuttle from Rodrigo Diaz docked on Dragonfly’s port airlock, and after it had cycled through, a young ensign stepped into the freighter, saluting Dirk Berand the moment she saw him.
“Tress Kennig, sir. I’m your pilot.” She turned to Zack and held out a pad. “Mister Decker, Captain Nayaf has asked that I take a scan. If you could put your hand on the reader.”
Decker gave her an amused smile.
“Nothing lost on your skipper is there. I suppose I’d do the same if some outlandish brute looking like me showed up, claiming to be a warrant officer and gentleman.”
He touched the smooth surface and waited patiently. When the pad beeped, he removed his hand and looked at her expectantly.
“Thank you, warrant. Your bio-markers match those attached to the rookie trooper identification code. If you two gentlemen would like to follow me, please...”
“By the way, Zack, why rookie trooper?” Dirk asked as they strapped themselves in.
“It’s an old joke, taken from a Pathfinder song that goes back to the days of pre-spaceflight Earth. The first line is, He was just a rookie trooper, and he surely shook with fright.”
“I can’t picture you shaking with anything other than alcohol deprivation.”
“Like I said, it’s a joke.”
“If you say so.”
The flight ov
er to the frigate didn’t take long, and when Zack saw her through the thick porthole, he thought he’d feel the longing for his old career, much of which was spent as a pathfinder sailing into trouble spots aboard a frigate not too different from this one. But all he felt was a certain admiration for the ship’s clean, powerful lines, a symbol of the Commonwealth’s naval might. The expected homesickness failed to materialize.
A very polite petty officer met them on the hangar deck and led them to the wardroom, where the captain of the frigate was waiting. Walking down the familiar passageways, Decker breathed in the comforting aura of a taut, well-run warship and he felt his first pang of longing. Perhaps he should have taken the offer to return to active duty when it was made. A lot of unpleasantness might have been avoided, and she would likely still be alive. On the other hand, he reminded himself, the men and women he’d brought back from the trans-Coalsack would probably be dead. Karma.
He got some very pointed stares from crew members they met along the way, thanks to his outlandish appearance, and for the first time in a long time, he felt uneasy in his own skin. Going back to the old Zack Decker’s appearance suddenly took on a lot of importance.
Even Captain Nayaf examined him critically as they shook hands.
“I guess the markings on your skull are as a result of your captivity, Mister Decker?”
“Yes sir, a sign of both being owned and a member of the slave soldier caste on Danjori, the planet where I was sold. You get them once you pass their version of basic training.”
“If you’d like, I can have my surgeon take a look and see if she can remove the things.”
“I appreciate the offer, sir, but until I’ve handed my people over to the proper authorities for repatriation, I’m still their CO, and that means I get to keep looking like them.”
Amused respect glimmered in Nayaf’s eyes.
“I understand.”
He gestured towards a cloth covered table that held a number of bottles, mostly alcoholic.
“Can I offer you a pre-dinner drink?”
“Do you have any Shrehari Ale, captain?”
Nayaf smiled.
“But of course. I would never invite a Marine aboard without making sure we have some on hand. It’ll be in the cabinet beside the drinks.”
Zack opened the refrigerator and reverently pulled out a dark green bottle with an alien label on its side. He stared at it for a few moments before reaching for the cap and twisting it open. The expression on his face as he took the first swig must have been something to behold since both Nayaf and Berand burst out laughing.
“I gather the life of a slave soldier is alcohol-free.”
“It is sir and mores’ the pity. I haven’t tasted one of these in over a year, and the stuff we picked up at our last stop before coming here is horse piss in comparison.”
“Glad we could provide you with your favorite libation as a way of welcoming you back. Your health, gentlemen.”
After the toast, he invited them to sit, staring speculatively at Decker.
“Although I didn’t want to make you pay for your supper by regaling me with your adventures, after reading your report, I confess that I’m vastly intrigued.”
Zack shrugged off the half-hearted apology. He could understand the man’s interest. If he hadn’t lived through the events himself, he’d have been equally fascinated.
“Well, sir, I guess it all started a long time before we were attacked by the pirates, but unfortunately that part is classified – it was an operation that occurred while I was working more or less informally for intelligence after I retired from the Corps. But because of my part in it, relatives of the folks we put away permanently came looking for revenge and arranged to have my ship attacked, my wife killed, and me sold off to trans-Coalsack slavers. It pretty much went downhill from there...”
All through the meal, between bites, he told the tale, encouraged by Nayaf’s obvious interest. He finally came to the end at just about the same time coffee was served.
“That’s pretty much all there is to know, sir.”
“And now what?”
“Now? I bring the folks with me home, hand them over to the Fleet and then go off to find the people who ordered the pirate attack. They still owe me a life, and I intend to collect.”
The matter-of-fact tone in Decker’s voice struck Nayaf by its contrast with the violent intent of his words. It was clear that no one would be able to dissuade him from his goal and woe betide anyone who tried.
The door to the wardroom opened, revealing a fresh-faced ensign.
“Sorry, sir. You asked to be notified when the answer came back from HQ.” She held out a pad. “We’ve received our orders and the message also contains orders for Warrant Officer Decker.”
Nayaf glanced at Zack.
“It looks like you may have been recalled to active service if someone is presuming to order you around.”
“Provided they get me where I need to go, it doesn’t really matter, captain.”
“Perhaps.” He studied the screen and nodded. “I was right in that I’ll be escorting Dragonfly to Parth. Once there, Captain Berand, you’ll be landing on the military side of the Frederica spaceport to disembark Mister Decker’s troops. You’ll be met by a naval official to discuss compensation. As you might be aware, there’s a bounty for every kidnapped Commonwealth citizen returned home.”
“I do, and it’ll be welcome compensation for my expenses.”
“Your turn.” Nayaf shoved the pad across the table.
Decker picked it up and began reading, his face impassive.
“Is everything good?” Berand asked after a while.
The Marine held up his hand, palm down and wiggled it from side to side.
“The Corps is going to take charge of my troops. Those who want to serve will be given the chance to do so; the ones wanting a discharge will be given a ticket to the planet of their choice and a stipend. Until then, we’re all to consider ourselves bound by the Rules of War and the Code of Military Discipline – me in particular, since I have indeed been recalled to active duty.”
“Isn’t that good news?”
“The part about my people is, captain. The rest on the other hand...” He grimaced. “Once I’ve handed the unit over to the senior Marine officer on Parth, I get to report to a Commander Hera Talyn of naval intelligence, who I know from previous operations. I’ll bet she’s to blame for my promotion while I was on the inactive list. I know for sure she has to be the one who got the brass to reactive my warrant, and that means intelligence wants me for some crap mission or other. I don’t have time for spook games. Like I said, I have a debt to collect.”
Nayaf nodded.
“I guess the old saying is true: once you turn spy, they own your ass forever.”
Zack grunted in agreement, eyes staring through the pad and into a distance only he could see.
Turning to Berand, the Navy officer asked, “How soon would you be ready to break orbit?”
“Any time you call it.”
“Good. Once you’re back on your ship, I’ll have my sailing master link up with your navigator to sync us. We’ll be right behind you for the entire distance to Parth. If the bounty hunters working for that Atabek fellow decide to do any funny stuff, they’ll get a lesson they’ll likely not survive.”
“That’s reassuring,” Dirk nudged Decker, “isn’t it, Zack?”
“Huh?” Decker looked up, seemingly lost. “Oh, yeah.”
He suddenly felt impatient to leave.
“Sir, thank you for inviting us to supper. It’s been a long time since I had a good meal and even longer since I had Shrehari Ale of that vintage.”
Nayaf smiled, sensing Zack’s sudden desire to be on his way.
“My pleasure, warrant. Welcoming home a man captured by slavers is an exceedingly rare occurrence and one to be celebrated. I’ll wish you a safe return, though we’ll no doubt speak again before leaving you at Parth.”
&nb
sp; As if summoned by telepathy, their pilot appeared to collect them and take them back to Dragonfly. Four hours later, they broke orbit and twelve hours after that, Zack felt the universe shift when they went FTL.
He intended to spend what time he could with Lora Cyone, for once they reached Parth, their paths would diverge, and they might never see each other again. But he could at least take comfort in the fact that unlike his previous lovers, she would make it out of a relationship with Zack Decker alive.
*
“It’s not exactly small,” the stocky Marine officer commented, watching Dragonfly land on the military side of the spaceport. “Though spending weeks cooped up in a cargo hold for the transit from the other end of the Coalsack would probably make it seem the size of a bathtub.”
“I’m pretty sure that after years of captivity, the inmates don’t really need much luxury,” his companion, a tall, thin, long-limbed Navy commander replied. Her black hair, cut just below the ears and swept back, showed strands of gray at the temples. The lines around her mouth and crows’ feet in the corners of her dark, deep-set eyes marked her as mature, if not middle-aged.
“Knowing Zack Decker, he’ll have figured out two dozen ways to keep them busy and tired enough to not care.”
“I’ve never served with him,” the Marine said, “but the scuttlebutt in the Corps concerning Decker is pretty mixed, Commander Talyn. He’s supposed to have retired as an alternative to a court martial.”
“Correct, colonel, though letting him go was one of the more stupid things I’ve seen the Marine brass do. Fortunately, I’ll be correcting that mistake. A man who can escape from captivity with two hundred slave soldiers in tow belongs in the Fleet, not roaming the stars on a tramp freighter.”
“I won’t argue that point with you, commander,” he replied, smiling, “though I suspect your plans don’t involve sending him back to a Pathfinder squadron.”
“That would be a waste of talent indeed.” She returned the smile, but there was a predatory edge to it.