by Eric Thomson
“Consider yourself invited, Ser Verrill, now in fact, while we’re waiting for your third ship.”
**
The man who stepped out of the personnel pod seemed to match Zack in height if not quite in width. Though appearing older and more tired in person, he nonetheless exuded confidence with every spare gesture.
Decker stuck out his hand.
“Welcome aboard, Ser Verrill.”
“Pleasure, and it’s just plain Verrill. Ser Verrill is my father, as the joke goes.”
The two men tested each other’s grip for a moment, recognizing quickly that they were almost evenly matched.
“You said something about Shrehari Ale, Ser Whate.”
“The name’s actually Zack Decker – you can call me Zack. Bill Whate is what I go by publicly, but that’s just between us. There are a lot of nasty people out there who want me dead, hence the cover identity.”
“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll let it slip?” He asked, following Decker to the saloon.
“If you do, I’ll just switch names and get a new face. Right now, we need to trust each other over more than the delight of a T’klach vintage.”
“T’klach vintage?” Verrill whistled softly. “Nice. I may begin to like you, Zack Decker aka Bill Whate. You were a janissary with Tran Kidder?”
“I was his commanding officer in the Kashdushiya, the slave-soldier regiment.”
“Interesting. Any regular military experience?”
“Twenty years in the Corps.”
They reached the saloon door, and Zack stepped aside to let his guest enter first.
“Verrill, I’d like you to meet my captain and partner, Pru Pasek.” He gestured towards Talyn, who’d risen from the bench, holding out her hand.
“Pleasure, Captain.”
He tested her briefly and smiled when she winked at him. Turning to the other two he nodded.
“Miko, Tran. Well done. This looks like a hell of a good find. Zack gave me a tiny thumbnail sketch of his bona fides and based on that, I think we can actually use him.”
“Did he tell you he used to be a Marine Pathfinder in a previous life?” Kidder asked.
“No, but somehow I’m not surprised after the stories you told me of your time in the Trans-Coalsack. Now,” he rubbed his hands together, “I was lured here with the promise of fine alien hooch.”
“And I always keep my promises,” Zack held out a cold bottle. Verrill took it with near-reverence and scanned the label.
“You weren’t kidding.”
“I never joke when it comes to the good stuff.” He passed out more of the potent brew then took one for himself, twisting off the stopper in a natural motion. “Mud in your eye, freedom fighters.”
“Skoal.” Verrill took a long sip, his face brightening with sheer delight at the taste. “You are a man of refinement and principles, Zack Decker aka Bill Whate.”
“Live in close quarters with Zack for a while before complimenting him. His idea of elegance is not walking around the bridge in his birthday suit,” Talyn said, smirking.
“Sure,” Decker nodded, smiling pleasantly, “and if you don’t like my principles, I can find others to suit.”
Verrill chuckled.
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
“Sit.” Zack pointed at the bench. “We’re at least refined enough not to eat standing up.”
“Glad to hear it.” Verrill slid in beside Steiger. He gave her a quizzical glance, and she nodded.
“Tell me, Zack, if I run your real name through the net, what’s going to come up?” He asked.
“Not much,” Decker replied, busy at the autochef. “Service dates, my retirement a few years ago, membership in the merchant guild, that sort of stuff. Although,” he turned his head to glance at Verrill with a crooked grin, “if you check the dark corners of the net, you might find that there’s still a price on my head.”
“And you, Captain Pasek?”
Talyn laughed.
“You’ll find a lot less. I’ve haven’t had a colorful life like my partner, thankfully. I’m not sure I’d survive what he’s been through.”
“So why is a retired Marine skirting the outer edge of the law.”
“A man’s got to make a living somehow, and this does just fine. I know what’ll get the Fleet’s attention, which means we can calibrate our contracts to stay out of sight.” Decker distributed meal trays and then sat down in front of his own serving. “It’s a good life if you have no anchors.”
“Have you ever had dealings with the Avalon Corporation?” Verrill took a bit of his chicken and chewed thoughtfully, waiting for a reply.
“Here and there,” Decker replied, noncommittally. “The grunts aren’t bad, as corporate mercs go. The higher-ups in their shiny executive offices? Politically connected scum.”
“Avalon’s been contracted by Celeste to provide a naval blockade around Garonne and the government might even hire ground troops in the not too distant future.”
Zack shrugged, cutting another slice off his meat.
“I said they weren’t bad, and I meant that in the sense of respecting the Rules of War. As fighters, well, they’re mercs and don’t have the incentive to die for a cause. You folks, if you truly believe in Garonne independence, do. Advantage: freedom fighters.”
“Pretty cynical view, isn’t it?”
“Realistic.”
Decker popped a chunk into his mouth and chewed slowly, meeting Verrill’s eyes without embarrassment.
“See,” he said after swallowing, “the Celeste government can’t deploy its National Guard to Garonne, at least not as formed units and definitely no spacecraft. The laws laid down after the massacres of the Second Migration War pretty much bars any transport of planetary troops without Fleet authorization and no Grand Admiral is going to sign off on that. So if the colonial militia can’t handle things, they hire mercs.”
“I’ve taken the usual political science pap at university,” Verrill replied. “What’s your point?”
“You can kick Avalon Corporation ass from here to the galactic core, and all you’ll get from Fleet HQ is a big fat yawn. So your governor hired Avalon. So what? Wallop 'em enough and they’ll raise their rates until they break the bank. Then they walk away.”
“And we’re still sounding pretty cynical.”
“Take it from me,” Zack replied around a mouthful of steamed vegetables, “I’ve seen this story before. If you’re ready to die, the mercs don’t stand much of a chance. They didn’t sign up to meet their maker. The Corps? That’s another story. Once they land, you can kiss your rebellious butt goodbye. The trick is to become the colonial government that welcomes the dropships instead of remaining nasty rebel scum. You can do that, you’re golden. Just make sure you don’t execute the previous administration without a fair trial. These days, the Fleet never overturns the will of the people, even if it came out of the barrel of a gun. Hispaniola cured it of any nation-building delusions it might have had.”
“I gather you were there?” Verrill sounded interested.
“Yep.” Decker pushed his empty tray aside and sat back. “Damn near was the death of me. My buddy and I ended up in a mob show and no live ammo. I still have nightmares about it. Biggest body count the Corps saw since the last Shrehari war so it’s not about to repeat the experience.”
“Cogent thinking for a former command sergeant.”
“Dummies don’t get to wear the crossed swords on their stripes. Besides, the Corps runs on its command non-coms. Now about your real question concerning the Avalon rent-a-spacers: we have no problems putting them at the wrong end of our guns. They’ll try to return the favor. Good luck to them.”
“You’re a very confident man.”
Decker’s mouth twitched.
“It’s a curse, but so far, so good. Another one?”
“Are Shrehari ugly?” The rebel leader smiled when Zack reached over to the cooler and pulled out a few more bottles. “There�
��s none to be had where we’re going and what comforts we do get are pretty miserable. The militia might not be much on catching us, but they sure can make life hard for colonists who help out with supplies.”
“Have they done anything that crossed into war crimes territory yet?”
“None that would hold up in court, but how many settlements can you ruin before it stops being collateral damage and becomes a deliberate scorched earth policy?”
An evil grin twisted the Marine’s lips.
“I’ve seen that story before too. Perhaps the Garonne militia needs to experience some real pain.”
He ignored Talyn’s warning glance, knowing full well that she would be against any involvement unless it got them closer to finding the rebellion’s financial backers.
“And you’re the man to do it?” There was gentle mockery in Verrill’s tone.
“I’ll need a little bit of help from your fine young rebels.”
This time, Verrill laughed out loud at Decker’s disingenuous tone.
“I’m beginning to like you, Zack, and I’d be really chagrined to find out you’re not what you pretend to be.”
“He’s not pretending,” Talyn said. “My boy here has a ruthless streak when he puts his mind to it.”
“And you, Captain?”
“When we’re in space, he’s the first mate. On the ground, I’m his winger. Whatever needs to be done, I’ve got his back.”
“A wonderful non-answer,” Verrill replied, “but I’ll let it stand for now. Do you have any military background that might be useful?”
“Not even a whiff.”
“Meaning you have a military background and none of it is useful to us or you’ve never been in uniform?”
“Does it matter which one it is? I sail this ship where it needs to go. When we get there, I let the big guy run the show.”
“Another wonderful non-answer, Captain.” This time, Verrill’s tone was openly sarcastic. “Fair enough. Your ship, your rules.”
“And what’s your story, to coin a phrase?” Decker asked. “Verrill the rebel and all that?”
“It’s a long and complicated story, to coin another phrase,” he replied.
“I figure two bottles of my finest vintage pays for a long and complicated story, not a wonderful non-answer.”
This time, Verrill’s laugh sounded genuine. It reached his eyes and highlighted every wrinkle in his tired face.
“You know about the situation on Garonne?”
“Sure. Class one colony, bootstrapped its way to self-sufficiency, but it can’t even get class two status, let alone class three independence, because Celeste, with help from its pals in the Senate, wants to keep a place where it can dump undesirables and appoint useless drones to profitable government sinecures.”
“Succinct, to the point, and sadly true.” Verrill sighed. “Though it’s worse than you can imagine.”
“Try me. I’ve been through a few colonial disturbances in my day, and they all suck in their own way. The ones with off-world political interference almost always have the most suckage.”
“Our most excellent colonial administration has been hiring deportees into the militia, pushing out those who came from the original settler families. They’ve been promised free land and even tickets home to Celeste if they serve to the governor’s satisfaction. Some of the deportees are politicals, and they’re either on our side or keeping their heads down. Most, though, are criminals. How’s that for being worse?”
Decker nodded.
“Sounds incredibly shitty. Let me guess. They have no problems burning down the homestead of an independence supporter and then claiming they were fired on while running a peaceful patrol in the countryside.”
“Got it in one, with homesteaders often dying in the process. The properties then get handed over to government supporters.”
“Why has evidence of this not been brought to the Senate?”
“We tried. Our envoys vanished and are presumed dead by now.” Anger flashed across Verrill’s eyes. “My eldest son was among them.”
“And your cities, or make that your one major city is under the control of the militia, at least those parts not under direct control of deportee gangs, and independence supporters either flee, keep quiet or die.”
“I guess you have seen it before.” Verrill sighed. “Some days I don’t know how we’ll ever get out of this nightmare short of the Fleet risking direct intervention.”
Talyn caught Decker’s eye again, to remind him that he was not to play knight-errant. He ignored her.
“There are always ways, my friend.” A slow, predatory smile spread across his broad face. “We...”
The AI suddenly chirped with alarming insistence.
“That would be the proximity warning. A ship dropped out of FTL within our security sphere,” Zack said, rising to leave the saloon. “I hope it’s your third freighter. If not, we might have a problem.”
“May I join you?” Verrill asked.
“You can all come if you like. Just be ready to vacate the bridge the moment we say so. There’s not much room, and if we have to fight, passengers get in the way.”
When the others caught up with him, Decker was already at the gunnery console, scrolling through the sensor log.
“It’s a freighter alright, looks like the other two, but it’s pushing out an encrypted signal like crazy.”
Verrill stepped closer and peered over the Marine’s shoulder.
“That’s our code. Can you open a link to Marilan?”
Moments later, a somber female face materialized on the main screen. She spoke before Verrill could open his mouth.
“It’s Roste aboard Clio. He has some nasties on his tail. We need to get away quickly before they drop out of FTL and come at us.”
SEVENTEEN
“Any idea who they are?” Talyn fingers danced on the navigation console, programming an emergency jump.
“Negative. Two ships, armed, unmarked and without an IFF beacon, but then, no one broadcasts an IFF out on the Rim unless the Navy’s around.” The woman looked at her leader with anxious eyes. “Are you coming back, Verrill?”
“Too late,” Zack interjected. “I have emergence signatures one point five million klicks behind Roste’s ship.”
“Can you jump with my pod attached?”
Talyn thought about it for a moment and then nodded.
“It’s small enough. The ship will treat it as part of its hull.”
“Good. I’d hate to lose the thing. I guess I’m staying, Petra.”
“Roger that. Any orders?”
“Might I suggest we jump in sync?” Talyn said. “I’ll transmit the navigation data over to your ships and link them to my helm. If we jump in an uncoordinated fashion, we’ll be scattered all over the place and make perfect victims for whoever just joined the party.”
“Makes sense,” Petra said before Verrill could speak. “Do it. I’ll tell the others to expect your orders and spool up.”
“Don’t dawdle,” Zack warned. “They’ll be in missile range soon enough.”
“I’m connected to Marilan, Umberto and Clio,” Talyn announced moments later. “Transmitting navigation data.”
“Folks,” Decker glanced over his shoulder at the others, “find an empty seat and put your butts down. I don’t want to mop blood off the deck.”
Verrill seemed poised to protest, but thought better of it and obeyed Decker’s order.
“Marilan, Umberto and Clio, this is Phoenix prepare to go FTL in thirty seconds. Acknowledge.”
One by one, the captains of the three freighters responded, all sounding worried by the unexpected turn of events.
“Incoming from the unidentified ships,” Decker said, chuckling. “Stand down and prepare to be boarded. Man, that never gets old around here, does it?”
Talyn held up her right hand in the rigid digit salute.
“You’re authorized to transmit my response, but save the ammo.”
>
Decker snarled into the audio pickup, his face distorted as he uttered the sounds.
“What in heaven’s name was that?” Kidder asked when he was done.
“One of the few Shrehari expressions I’ve been able to memorize. I’m not sure their mothers would be impressed if they actually did what I told them to do.”
“With your excruciatingly awful accent, it was probably wasted on them,” Talyn said, finger hovering over the controls.
“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but doing it entertained me and that’s what really counts.”
“Right. The universe exists for your enjoyment. Stand by everyone, five seconds.”
“Doesn’t it, though,” Zack replied, but no one heard his words. Everything dissolved around them, and they became wholly preoccupied with keeping their stomachs from jumping out of their throats.
“Did everyone make it?” Verrill asked after a few moments spent swallowing convulsively.
“We’ll find out when we drop out of FTL at the end of this jump,” Talyn replied, turning in her seat to face the rebel leader. “The ships on our tail will need ten, maybe fifteen minutes to spool up again so we’ll gain some distance but I doubt we’re done with them yet. When we emerge, I’ll put out fresh navigation orders that’ll send us on a divergent course. It may take a few random jumps to shake them, so I hope you’re not in a hurry to reach Garonne.”
“Whatever needs to be done,” Verrill replied, waving away any thoughts of objecting. “How long on this jump?”
“Ten hours. I suggest another round of whatever libation you like and then some shut-eye,” she said. “There’s nothing you can do while we’re FTL other than fret, and you won’t be doing that around me. There’s bunk space in the cabin Miko and Tran have been using. Zack will get you some sundries from the purser’s locker so you can brush your teeth. Any questions?”
Verrill seemed momentarily taken aback by her matter of fact orders, and then he gave a half-smile and nodded.
“You’re very efficient, Captain Pasek. I’m beginning to think that I owe Tran for finding you.”
“She’s more of a force of nature,” Zack said, rising from his seat and stretching. “Stand in her way and you’ll feel like you’re in the middle of an ion storm, but enough about my partner’s friendly disposition. Is anyone interested in what the sensors picked up about our little friends in the fast ships?”