I left the court room in a pensive mood. Deep in thought I strode past the President’s offices and down the corridors that led to the Defence Force rooms. I needed my office, some privacy, and a lot of time to think. Not that I got either, of course. No sooner had I slumped down behind my desk than half the flight crews had barged into the room and were staring at me with a wide variety of expressions.
Captain Hobbs opened the batting. “Colonel, are you going to let the City do this?”
“They are convicted pirates, Captain. Why is it a problem?”
“Look Colonel, we’d shoot them down in an instant in an engagement. But they are pilots, like us.”
“Not exactly,” objected Captain Stephens. “We work for the City, they’ve been interrupting our trade. The penalty for piracy has been death for ever, hasn’t it?”
I looked around at the flight crews. Stephens had a bit of support, but most of the crews seemed to be of the same mind as Hobbs. “What do you want me to do?” I asked them.
“Appeal for mercy,” suggested Lieutenant Zabir.
“Recruit them?” asked Mombai.
“Are you joking? You lot got the better of them, so I don’t think that’s a great idea.” Now I had managed to offend all of them. Wonderful. Fortunately at that point there was a small distraction. Well, a major distraction. The desk telephone rang. I picked it up, listened for a moment and my mouth fell open. The crews stared at me as I jumped up, dropping the handset. “Everyone to their ships! There are reports that a large number of ships have emerged from hyperspace at the outer beacon.”
“Trade ships?” asked Captain Hobbs.
“No, Captain. Warships. I’ll bet it’s the whole pirate fleet come to get the prisoners.”
Chapter five
“Seren Leader to all Seren craft.”
One by one, the space ships of the Defence Force following me to the outer beacon at the edge of the small system acknowledged my call.
“I have been advised by the City Council that this incursion has been expected.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked one of the pilots.
“Because they didn’t bother to tell me before now!” I replied. Typical really, isn’t it? I had been hired to run the Defence Force that had been formed to protect the City of Serenopolis, but neither the Council nor the President of the City had bothered to tell me that they actually expected to be invaded rather than raided. Doesn’t matter what colour, creed race or species they are – politicians are the same everywhere. “It seems that the City of Florence has been taking over some of the other Flying Cities, and Serenopolis is next on their list. We are instructed to resist them.”
“Didn’t they offer enough money?” asked a pilot. I suspected it was Mumbai, but didn’t respond to him by name. In space no one can you scream: but they can manage to record indiscreet comms transmissions. And use them against you afterwards.
“Ours is not to reason why,” I replied. That was untrue, too. Ever since I had received a call from the President after the entire fleet of ships had been launched, I had been trying to work out a reason why. First we had suffered from the pirates’ attempts to disrupt the trade and supply routes, then when that had failed, this. I wondered if Florence had been trying other, less visible methods to destabilise Serenopolis as well – but knew that I’d have to spend a lot of time drinking in the right bars to find out the answer to that question. And right now I didn’t have that time.
We closed on the beacon, and I turned my computer screen to combat mode. Lots of lights flickered across the screen, and then settled down.
“Seren leader to all Seren ships: you are authorised to initiate combat either on my order or return fire if Florentine ships fire at you first.”
I armed all the combat controls on the flight console, and watched the Florentine space fleet close in on us…
*
“Seren Leader, I again invite you to surrender.”
“What?”
Space rippled, unfolded, coughed and finally burped – a further collection of warships emerged to strengthen the Florentine fleet. It did not escape me that some of them were painted black and had a golden spaceship and sun – the emblem of the Imperium – painted on their sides. These ships were part of Colonel Starker’s feared Black Ops unit. Besides being the Chief Enforcer for the Imperium, Starker was also involved in operations to extend the Imperium’s influence and control across the galaxy. The independent Flying Cities must be his latest pet project, and Florence his chosen instrument. Just my luck to be in his way again.
“It may have escaped your attention, but you just got beaten,” I said loudly. If Florentine Leader was involved with Starker, then that was important. Colonel Starker rewarded success, but was equally (if not more so) keen to dish out the reverse for failure.
“A nothing,” replied Florentine Leader. “De Nada. Unimportant. Now, I will offer you a brief cessation of hostilities: in return you will escort my ship to Serenopolis where I will discuss terms with the City Council.”
The comms system started buzzing like an infuriated insect. With a deep sigh, I changed channels. The image of the President appeared on the comms screen. He looked pompous and shifty at the same time, and I started to get a bad feeling. “Colonel Russell, the City Council have been monitoring events. You are congratulated on your success in defeating the initial incursion by Florentine forces: now you have strengthened our negotiating hand considerably. I would like you to escort one of their vessels here personally. It will be classed as a diplomatic mission. We will then take over matters, as you will have fulfilled your duty.”
The President disconnected, and I returned to the open comms channel to the Florentine leader.
“Well?” demanded that worthy.
“Oh go on, then. One vessel only, the rest of your force remains here.”
I watched the combat screen, and at once saw a StarDestroyer ease away from the damaged battlecruiser, and slowly approach the beacon. “Seren Two, you will assume command in my absence.”
Captain Hobbs acknowledged the order. I could tell she was nervous.
“Florentine forces will not take any hostile action while the diplomatic mission is in progress,” announced the Florentine Leader over an open comms channel. That meant he was able to monitor our internal, supposedly secure, communications. Another fact I noted for consideration, along with the point that he had not made any mention of the Imperium ships.
“The City of Florence hopes for a peaceful resolution of all disputes, and deeply regrets that we were assaulted by the Serenopolis Defence Force,” observed the Florentine Leader, showing himself to be an experienced diplomat and accomplished liar. “The hasty and unprovoked attack by the Serenopolis commander will hopefully not be repeated by his deputy during the diplomatic mission.”
“You fired first,” I told him over his open comms channel that was doubtless being picked up by every ship and comms receiver in the area.
“Not according to our ship’s log, which will be the definitive record of events. But let us not discuss such unfortunate matters now. Would you prefer to lead us down the approach path to Serenopolis, or, shall we land first?”
Another voice broke into the conversation while I was still seething. “This is Serenopolis Flight Control. The City Council welcomes the Diplomatic Mission from the City of Florence, and invites them to land at the spaceport, where a suitable welcome has been prepared.”
I stopped being angry. There’s no point when it is going to cloud your judgement, and I was already getting a bad feeling about matters. Lieutenant Mumbai’s comment about the money repeated itself inside my head. The Flying Cities were all about trade, and trade was all about money. If Florence offered enough money, the City Council would sell them their collective grandmothers (alive or dead). No doubt in the Council the President had just survived a small coup arranged by his enemies. I wished them better luck next time. Unless of course they had won and left the Presiden
t in place to take the blame if it all went wrong. In a reflective mood, I landed my Speedbird and headed for the Defence Force quarters. Two heavily armed marines were on guard outside my office door.
“Come with me,” I told them.
They looked at me, then exchanged glances. “That’s our line, normally,” one of them said.
Inside I quailed, but kept an outwardly calm look on my face. “I need you to escort the convicted pirates to my ship and put them in the airlock after I’ve entered the ship and locked the inside door.”
“Why sir?” one of the marines asked.
“We have an execution to perform. The pirates are to be expelled into space, as you know. The President requires that now as a demonstration for the visiting Diplomats.”
The marines looked at each other again, and I wondered what orders they had been given. My suspicions deepened. However their military discipline was firmly ingrained, I had not yet been officially dismissed from my post, and so they followed me along the corridors to the cells. The marine guarding the small cell block saluted when he saw me.
“Time for their execution, is it, sir?” he asked.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw at least one of the marines at my back relax slightly.
“That’s right. I need them chained for security, please.”
“Hum. I’m afraid we only have handcuffs here.”
“That’s fine. Cuff them.”
The marine gathered three sets of handcuffs together, and with some assistance from his two fellows handcuffed the three pirates. They of course did not make things easy. I just leaned against the corridor wall, and watched the tussle, occasionally wincing at a particularly lurid piece of invective.
“March!” snarled a marine and gave the nearest pirate a vicious jab in the ribs with the business end of his assault weapon.
“Why should we?” asked a second pirate.
A second marine shoved the pirate’s face against the wall, adding to the already interesting collection of cuts and bruises. “Because otherwise, I’ll shoot you.”
“You’re going to kill me anyway.”
“That’s true, but I’ll shoot you where you’ll die slowly and in great pain. March, and at least it will be quick and clean.”
The third pirate was staring at me. I’ve no idea why. “Let’s just get it done and over, lads,” he said. His voice showed no fear. In fact, something about him seemed familiar. I looked hard at him but he turned away.
The small party headed off down the corridor. The first two pirates were most reluctant and struggled: but they had not been fed for several days (no point in wasting the food supply on them, said the President) and the marines easily kept them moving with the occasional kick. The port area was deserted, except for an honour guard of two marines at the entry port of the Florentine StarDestroyer.
“Gentlemen, thank you for your help and cooperation,” I said to the marines. “I will close and lock the airlock from the inside. If you will then encourage the criminals into the hatch and close it, they will be effectively held in there until I eject them into space to complete the sentence of the Court.” I saluted them and climbed into the Speedbird.
Once the marines heard the inner door lock, they threw the condemned men into the airlock and closed the door, keeping their weapons trained on the hatch. I ran upstairs into the living quarters and headed for the flight deck. The fact is, there is a time in every mercenary’s life when a contract looks like it is going to go bad on him. Or her. Or them. The trick is to be prepared, and so there was nothing back in Serenopolis that I could not abandon without regret, except possibly the chance of getting paid for this month. But the speed with which the City Council had accepted the Florentine commander as a diplomat had triggered my highly sensitive sense of self preservation.
I might not be able to hide, but I could definitely run. I started the engines and wondered briefly about a destination. Then discarded that thought. This was still a big galaxy, I could go anywhere. I could vanish easily enough. I programmed the navcomm for the opposite end of the system to the beacon where a large number of military vessels waited and watched the dials as the engine temperature crept up to operating levels.
“Speedbird, you have no launch clearance. Shut down engines and await instructions.”
I had not realised that I’d turned on the comms system, and the Flight Controller’s voice made me jump.
“Speedbird, acknowledge instructions immediately!”
That wasn’t getting an answer, either. The needles finally touched the green segment of the dial. I swallowed hard and pushed the power lever forward. The Speedbird trembled, then lifted away from the dock. I spun the trajectory and headed out as the Controller started shouting about an unapproved departure. I engaged the navcomm, and the Speedbird began to pick up velocity and head for the edge of the system.
The comms system came alive again, which was annoying. The image of the President of the City Council appeared on the screen. “Mr Russell, explain yourself!”
I was finishing the after-launch flight checks and forgot to reply.
“You have been dismissed from your post.”
Ah well, I thought. “I left before you sacked me.”
“Consider yourself under arrest, following the decision of The Council to accept the formal request of the Imperium to action the Arrest Warrant against you. You are commanded to return to Serenopolis immediately.”
Just what I had expected, really. “Not a chance, mate,” I replied. “You let Colonel Starker’s men land. I’m not stopping around while they take me. Or you give me over to them, probably for favours or cash.”
The President had a small, mostly hidden, grain of basic honesty in him. It came to the fore then because he didn’t bother to deny he had planned just that. “As you are no longer in our employment, you are fair game for anyone who wants to claim the reward.”
The reward. Now I knew why the President was planning to hand me over. For personal profit. I made an ancient and very rude sign in his direction with my left hand and closed the comms channel down. Leaving the Speedbird to accelerate, I went out into the living quarters, turned on the coffee machine, and took off the Serenopolis uniform, although not without a slight regret. At least I’d made it to colonel once, somewhere. In my old and battle stained Free Union flight suit I swung down the spiral staircase to the entry port.
The three pirates had slumped down onto the floor during the launch which had been a bit uncomfortable for them. Two of them pretty much ignored me, but the third pirate tipped his head to one side and gave me a look. He fiddled with his hairline, then slowly peeled a rubber mask away from his face, revealing his proper features. I recognised him then, with a weary sense of inevitability. “Hello Rosto, fancy seeing you here. Wasn’t it a bit hot under that rubber mask?”
“Hello, Frank. Lousy timing as ever on your part, I have to say. And what happened to the uniform? I thought you had gone up in the world!”
I leaned on the door and tried to look casual. “Oh, you know what they say about promotions. All the power and responsibility are never reflected in the salary.”
Rosto laughed, then kicked his fellow pirates awake. “Come on lads, looks like we’ll have to die another day instead.”
“What?” The pirates looked very confused indeed.
“Frank, meet Henry and Pierre, two of the sorriest excuses for pirates you are going to meet.”
I nodded at them. “Rosto, what are you doing here?”
“Not dying. Now, as I’d like to keep it that way, why don’t you get back to flying this bucket of bolts?”
At that point the Speedbird lurched and I fell over. I landed next to one of the prone pirates, who tried to bite me. Rosto gave him an indulgent smile, then shoved him across the floor with his foot. “Now, now, Henry. Frank here got us out of that cell in order to save our lives, so let’s be nice to the man, eh?”
The Speedbird lurched sickeningly, and light flared
through the porthole in the airlock.
“Do you know,” remarked Rosto in a calm voice, “I do think that we are under attack. Frank, perhaps you would like to deal with the problem?”
I made an inarticulate sound and scrabbled my way to the spiral staircase leading up into the ship. As I clambered up the steps, I could hear Rosto muttering to the two pirates. I wanted to find out what the devious git was planning but dealing with the attack on the Speedbird was a more immediate problem. Another explosion rocked the ship as I staggered across the living quarters and flung myself into the pilot’s seat. It promptly sighed and collapsed leaving me peering over the edge of the flight console. I clambered up and started by switching on the defence screens. Then the combat system and the vidscreens came to life.
I hauled the pilot’s seat back up and sat down. The vidscreen showed me a StarDestroyer behind the Speedbird, closing fast and firing almost every weapon it had. I rolled the Speedbird to the left, and as the StarDestroyer started to follow, I reversed the turn and pulled the scout ship around as hard as I could. The StarDestroyer, a much bigger craft with more complex mass inertia, had no chance of following the change of direction once it had commenced its turn to the left.
“Who is it?” Rosto had arrived at the door to the flight deck. Somehow he had managed to rid himself, Pierre and Henry of the handcuffs.
“Don’t know. Not one of Serenopolis’.”
“Must be one of Florentine’s. Or it’s Imperium. That’s why I’m here, really. To check out what Colonel Starker is doing in this neck of the galaxy.”
I might have known. Rosto, the dreaded Colonel Starker, and their private war seemed to follow me around the galaxy with a fatal attraction. Almost absently I fired a set of space mines at the StarDestroyer and smiled as a line of explosions rippled along the length of the ship – whether or not they penetrated the defence screens I couldn’t tell. I kept the turn going and watched as the other ship tried to regain a firing position on us.
Interstellar Mercenary Page 6
