Fortunes of War (Stellar Main Book 1)

by Richard Tongue

  “A thousand.”

  Frowning, she replied, “It’s five hundred a day, not a week.”

  “I know,” Carter said. “One day’s additional berthage, and the cost of the inspection. I intend to take off sometime tomorrow afternoon.” Looking at her, she added, “You seem to know your way around a ship, and you certainly seem to know the administration. Ever thought of going spaceside?”

  Her eyes widened, and the supervisor replied, “Are you out of your mind? On this ship? I’ve spent the last fifteen years building up my pension, thank you very much, and I intend to collect. That might be rather difficult if I’m dead, and I certainly don’t want my ex-husband getting his greasy hands on it.” She paused, then asked, “You really think you can get this ship into the sky in twenty-four hours?”

  “Or die trying.”

  “We’ll let the inspector decide on that one, but if you think you can do it, I’ll make the arrangements.” She looked up at Rogers, did a double-take, and added, “I didn’t know Valkyrie Tech was involved in this ship. It’s listed to Carter Couriers, Inc.”

  “Let’s just say that we’re friends of the family,” Rogers replied. “Who would like to know that Captain Carter was being treated well.”

  Forbyn’s eyes burned cold, and she replied, “Ma’am, I always treat anyone landing at one of my docks correctly and according to procedure. Some of the berths in this city are run less rigorously. Mine are run strictly along the lines described in the rulebook, and I resent any implication that they are run otherwise.”

  “How many docks do you supervise?” Carter asked.

  “Forty-One through Fifty,” she replied.

  “Is there a way to make sure I always get one of your docks?”

  “Traffic Control can usually sort you out,” Forbyn said. “Though as I said…”

  “Precisely,” Carter replied. “That’s the sort of service I want when I set my ship on the ground. Someone who’d sell their principles out to me for a few hundred credits would almost certainly accept a higher bidder if one turned up.”

  A thin smile crossed Forbyn’s face, and she replied, “I’ll make the arrangements for you. All part of the service. And thank you, by the way.” Glancing at Rogers, she added, “You’d be surprised how many people don’t understand how the system is supposed to work, and why.” Heading back to the airlock, she said, “For what it’s worth, I wish you the best of luck. You’re going to need it.”

  As the inspector walked away, Scott said, “For a moment, I thought I heard your father.”

  Carter blushed, and replied, “Just common sense.”

  “You’d be surprised just how rare that is.”

  “How the hell did you get this bird?” Kharkova said, eyes wide, walking past the inspector, Garcia right behind her. “Larson?”

  “Indirectly,” Carter replied. “She’s mine, though. Paid for in full.”

  “You’re kidding,” Kharkova said.

  “The kid did good,” Rogers said, a beaming smile on her face. “With a little help from her friends.”

  “Looks in good condition, though Petrov would have a fit at the paint job,” Garcia said, moving to the navigation console, poking at the controls. “Need someone flying right-seat? Before I went to the Academy, I did two years as enlisted. Gunnery, among other things.”

  “Hey,” Wu said. “That’s my job.”

  “You build them, you fit them, I’ll fire them,” he replied. “I’m a half-decent navigator and a damned good shot. And for the moment at least, I’ll work for room and board.” With a hunter’s grin, he replied, “And showing that bastard Petrov how to catch pirates will be a nice little bonus.”

  “That could be difficult,” Kharkova replied, looking up at the empty turret. “No guns.”

  “I’ll build them.”

  “That’ll take weeks,” Rogers said, shaking her head. “And require equipment you don’t have and permits you can’t get. You really think the Patrol won’t shut down an illegal operation making ship-scale weaponry?” She paused, then asked, “Have you ever even designed anything like that?”

  “Sure,” Wu said, rubbing her hands together.

  “I might be able to help you,” Garcia said, glancing around. “Do you think a pair of mid-range CosmoGuard Heavy Plasma Cannons would work? Could we integrate them into the power systems?”

  Wu whistled, and replied, “I like the way you think. We’d have to boost the linkages from the reactor to the turret, but there’s enough spare capacity to make it work. It’d give this ship one hell of a punch.” She stepped forward, and asked, “Where are they?”

  “That’s the catch,” he said. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I told you that my father fought for the Merchantmen during the Seven Stars War. He was second officer on a blockade runner and was heavily involved in the run up to the fighting. They spent the last year or so setting up caches of equipment, out on the frontier.”

  “Even here?” Scott asked.

  “They didn’t know where the fighting would be heaviest, and I think they’d hoped that Colchis might join their cause. Some of the bigger companies were interested, but it never came to anything. There’s a cache on a world not too far from here. Karadana.”

  “Wasn’t there a settlement there, a few decades back?” Rogers asked.

  “And the cache is close by. I’ve got the location. My father gave me the details before he died.” Shaking his head, he said, “To his last breath, he thought that someday, the fighting would start up again. He truly believed in the cause he fought for.”

  “You never turned it in?” Carter asked.

  “Of course I did, but that’s about as far as it ever got,” he replied. “I only found out about it three years ago. It took a little soul-searching, but I informed my commanding officer of the location of the cache and the weapons stored there. That commanding officer was Captain Petrov.”

  “I think I can see what’s coming,” Kharkova said.

  “For once, I agreed with him. The cache contains a pair of powerful but obsolete small ship weapons and some old handguns, and it’s stuck on one of the most inhospitable planets in the sector, one a long way from most of the usual shipping routes. There’s a notation on the charts that a Patrol ship should head out that way and deal with it at some point, but there’s always been something more important to do, a greater priority than tying up a loose end from a war that’s been over for decades.”

  “We’d better thank the inefficiency of your former commander, then,” Rogers replied. “There was a research base out there at one point, but there’s nothing there now. I vaguely remember catching a documentary on the place once. There’s probably a copy buried in the local archives somewhere.”

  “Two transit points,” Scott said, reaching past Garcia to the navigation console. “Both of them way off the grid, neither of them showing any sign of trouble.” He shrugged, and said, “Why would they, though. Neither of them goes anywhere. I have a little sympathy for Captain Petrov. I’m not sure any of these have been visited for decades.” Shaking his head, he said, “I’m almost tempted to go with you.” At Rogers’ frown, he added, “Almost.”

  “Why don’t you go see if that engineering team is ready?” his wife suggested. “Before you actually sign up for the trip.” Turning to Carter, she asked, “You willing to go with three?”

  “You got your flight certification, Cassie?” Carter asked. At Wu’s nod, she said, “Then we’ve got enough watchstanders, and we’ve pretty much got everything covered. I’d like a good sensor technician, but we’ll do without it for this ride.” Grimacing, she added, “Given the odds…”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Scott said, standing at the airlock. “You’re heading to one of the most inhospitable planets in the sector to hunt down a cache of buried treasure that may or may not be there and intend to use it to go hunting for a ship with at least a four-to-one tactical advantage over you, one that might be at any one of a hundred different star s
ystems. Who wouldn’t want to sign up for a ride like that? Beats hell out of hauling phosphorous. You never can quite get the smell out of the lifesystem.”

  “Git,” Rogers said, a smile on her face, as her husband escaped through the docking tunnel. Turning to Carter, she asked, “Well, you got what you wanted. How do you feel?”

  “Good,” she replied, a smile on her face, her hand gently patting the helm controls. “Damn good.”

  Chapter 8

  Carter walked down Spaceman’s Walk, turning into the shop at the end of the lane, the largest in the district and by a considerable margin, the least organized. Adeyemi’s Interstellar Stores, the name flashing bright in neon over the door, repeated in five different languages. She could smell the dust in the air as she walked across the threshold into the crowded store, but that didn’t matter. Not when it had the best deals on the planet for small ships like hers.

  She pushed through the mass of spacers, most of them loitering in the aisles at the front of the store, looking over collections of knick-knacks and personal equipment. A gaggle of cadets from the local Academy were clustered by the second-hand textbooks, frowning over their contents, debating whether to spend those extra credits and get one that had been well cared for, or save a little money for the one with the cover coming off. She’d been there herself, six years ago. Ultimately, they’d make the same decision that she did. Save the cash and deploy it in the Second Stage later. And regret it in the morning.

  As she worked her way deeper into the store, the crowd thinned out, only a few ship captains walking around, datapads in hand, working out the best and cheapest way to provision their ships for their next mission. Every credit counted, and that usually meant compromises that would wrestle with the sensibilities of the crew. Her father had once ended up with three months’ supply of the same prepared curry, bought right here. They’d ended up sending the last fortnight’s worth into a flaming re-entry when they’d got home. Though it had saved them just enough money to make their run marginally profitable.

  Find a cargo. Keep flying. At their level, interstellar commerce was barely a break-even proposition. Even the big haulage companies struggled on occasion, and none of them would have looked twice at the slim pickings represented by the Olympus Main. Yet there was always the hope of a big score, a lucky break, a good corporate or government contract. They’d had their share of luck over the years. The contract with ODC had appeared just such a break, a significant profit promised on every load.

  And then, their luck had run out, for the last time.

  She walked up to the counter, taking a deep breath to clear her thoughts, and the portly figure of Akihito Adeyemi limped towards her, staggering on his stick as ever, his eyes still sharp and quick. He smiled as he approached, pushing a datapad across the counter towards her.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of transferring your father’s credit to you,” he said. “Technically I should probably wait for everything to be processed, but I figure you need the money if you’ve got a ship to stock. Big Joe was in here earlier and suggested that you were going to need the best deals in the shop.” Tapping a bony finger on the counter, he added, “I’ve listed them all for you, right here. Crew of three?”

  “Let’s go for four. I’m hoping to hire another engineer.”

  “If I still had both the legs I was born with I’d go along for the ride myself.” Looking around the store, he added, “There are too many old faces I’m not seeing any more, and I have a feeling those friends of yours are the reason why.” Frowning, he added, “You’re making Colchis your home base?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Then I’ll give you a ten percent discount on this order, on the condition that you buy your stores right here.”

  “Come on, Aki, you know I would anyway.”

  “Sure, but this way I can justify it when my accountant screams at me tonight.”

  “How is your wife, anyway?” she asked.

  His smile grew, and he replied, “As indomitable as ever, and the holy terror of her students. She told me to pass on her regards, by the way, and that she expects you to be an object lesson for her next class. Though she didn’t say whether she expected you to provide a model of success or failure.” Patting her on the shoulder, he added, “The former, if I have anything to say about it. How are you for spare parts, components?”

  “A few Number Nine kits should do. We’re going to need some medical supplies as well. There’s no Sickbay, so we’re onto advanced First Aid. I’m more concerned about food right now.” Scanning down the list, she added, “A little variety would be nice.”

  “It is the spice of life, but perhaps expensive. Maybe…” He paused, then said, “Did you bring a bodyguard with you?”

  “No, I came alone.”

  “Damn.” Adeyemi’s hand stabbed down on a control, and a warning siren began to sound throughout the store, the crowd fleeing for the exits. Carter jumped over the counter, and Adeyemi drew a short, stubby laser pistol, aiming it into the distance. “Two people. At the back. I don’t know them, and they were paying far too much attention to our conversation.”

  Before she could reply, a pulse of laser light fired over the counter, slamming into the wall at the back. The sprinklers instantly kicked in, a fine mist raining down upon them, the sirens changing in intensity. Adeyemi handed her a second pistol, then lined up to take a shot, firing a quick burst into the distance, the bolt hammering into a large vat of ball bearings, rattling across the floor. Carter saw one of the two figures, wearing urban camo, and fired, the man diving into cover a second early, hiding behind a rack of hand sensors.

  “You’re surrounded,” one of their attackers yelled. “We’ve got reinforcements on the way. Turn over Carter, and you can walk away unharmed.”

  “Like hell,” Adeyemi replied, firing two more shots, wiping out more of his merchandise. “You think I’m going to just hand her over to you?”

  Turning to the old man, Carter whispered, “Maybe we should play along.”

  “It’s too big a risk,” he replied. Frowning, he said, “Though you might have an idea at that.”

  “We’ll give you thirty seconds to make up your mind,” the distant voice yelled. “Then we escalate, and you’ll have to take the consequences.”

  “Wait a moment,” Adeyemi replied, his voice shaken, uncertain, but a reassuring twinkle remaining in his eye. “I need to think about this.”

  “You don’t have time to think.”

  “I’ll go,” Carter said. “Just leave Aki alone.”

  “That’s the deal.”

  She poised to move, her eyes locked on the door. She’d have seconds to find her targets, maybe a chance to take down one of them before they could open fire. After that, it would all come down to the luck of the draw.

  Until Adeyemi changed the game, lurching out of cover, a trio of laser bolts flying through the air towards him. Carter dragged him down, back behind the safety of the counter, but was a second too late, one of the bolts catching him in the arm. The old man screamed in pain, and Carter looked up just in time to spot one of the figures moving forward, hoping to take advantage of the distraction.

  She put him down with a quick squeeze of the trigger, her shot catching the attacker squarely in the chest, the force of the impact sending him flying into the rack of textbooks. The stink of burned meat and ozone filled the air, and the dying man writhed in agony on the floor, his screams echoing those of Adeyemi. Carter looked around, trying to find a first aid kit, finally snatching one from the chaos under the counter. She fumbled through the contents, pulling out a hypodermic.

  “This should kill the pain,” she replied, sliding it into position over his undamaged arm. She shook her head, and said, “That was a damned stupid thing to do.”

  “Worked, didn’t it,” he replied, gasping for breath. “I’m an old man. I don’t have many years left anyway. Better it be me than you.”

  “Neither of us is going to die today
,” she said. “I’m sure as hell not going to explain this to your wife. That’s your job. Something to look forward to.” She peered over the counter, pistol in hand, then added, “Bastard’s gone to ground. There’re enough spots to hide in here where he could pick us off as soon as we move. Any bright ideas?”

  Before he could reply, a tremendous report echoed through the store, a ball of light that briefly lit the room with the glow of a thousand suns, and Walter Wu walked inside, a huge rifle in his hands, his fingers nimbly sliding a cartridge into position. He walked calmly over to the side, dragging the mangled corpse of the second attacker towards them, then shook his head.

  “Vermin,” he said. “Nothing but vermin. You can come out now.”

  “What the hell is that thing?” Carter asked, tentatively climbing over the counter.

  “Something Cassie and I have been working on. We call it the laser shotgun. Works on the same principles as some of the old missile defense platforms. An explosive charge that provides the energy to give one hell of a kick.” Patting the barrel, he added, “I didn’t actually know whether or not it would work. There’s some more like it back in the truck.” Frowning, he continued, “Aki, how…”

  “I’ll live,” the old man replied. “Betty’s on the way, as are the paramedics. I’ll be fine.” He looked at Carter, then said, “You realize that whoever tried this won’t stop until you’re off the planet, right? And that they’ve almost certainly got some friends in local security. You aren’t safe here.”

  “I was planning on getting out of here in the next few hours,” she replied. “The inspector should be looking over Pandora right now. We worked around the clock to get her ready in time.”

  “They’ll hold you here for weeks with the investigation,” Wu warned. “Once they get their hands on you, they’ll never stop. You know that, right? We’ve got to get you out of here right now.”

  “I still need my stores,” she replied.

  “Take what you need. I’ll claim it as damage on the insurance,” Adeyemi said.

  “Aki, I’m not leaving until the medics get here.”