I was just refilling the glass with the highly acceptable contents of the decanter when the door was thrust open. Will Portals strode in. The bonhomie in his manner in the space bar had entirely gone: this was the ruthless businessman of legend. He poured himself a drink and sat down in the chair behind the desk – the position of power, of course.
“Mr Russell, how interested are you in the current state of Galactic Politics?”
“I know enough to steer clear of the whole shooting match.” I noted he had not called me by my first name and concluded that the niceties were over.
“Very apt, and probably very sensible. However, politics has suddenly taken an interest in you.”
This was not good. Not good at all.
“Everyone across this Quadrant of the Galaxy knows that there’s a price on your head. Quite a lot of money, it is now. You have made rich and powerful enemies, Mr Russell.”
This was getting worse. I gauged the distance to the door. Portals smiled, without humour. I didn’t see him signal anything, but the door opened soundlessly. Two fully armed guards in Imperial uniforms stood there. The door closed again, the demonstration concluded.
“You want the money?” I asked him.
Portals laughed. “Mr Russell, ten times the reward on your head is what I spend on a party like this evening’s. I don’t need the money. I need you.”
“For what? And what do I get out of it, whatever it is?”
“Mr Russell. Politics. As you know, there is a power struggle going on between the Imperium and the so called Free Union: for dominance of this Quadrant, and ultimately for the Galaxy itself. You yourself have played a part in this, and for that you have been rewarded by being outcast by one side and wanted – quite badly, I understand from Colonel Starker – by the other side.”
That sounded about right.
“This is an opportunity to put some of that behind you. Mr Russell, the Corporation I run owns five star systems.”
Portals paused to let that sink in. Five whole systems! The wealth that represented was beyond my imagining, and he knew it.
“Although we own these systems, under the Imperium the rights of our ownership are restricted, and the Emperor is the titular political head of the systems – with Colonel Starker, whom I believe you know, as the enforcer of the political direction the Emperor and his Cabinet of advisors wish to follow.”
“You are under the heel of the tyrant, all right,” I agreed, looking round the opulent room before emptying my glass and refilling it without asking.
Portals ignored the cynicism. “This does not suit my Corporation, so we have decided to transfer the political allegiance of our five systems to The Free Union, which is more receptive to our interests. To smooth our path, we have developed a device which will give The Free Union a distinct military advantage, and we will share that commercial knowledge with them in return for the one thing we cannot acquire on the open market.”
“Me?”
Portals laughed. “Good grief, no, Mr Russell. You are chickenfeed, to use an ancient expression.”
That did nothing for my self esteem.
“The Free Union has agreed to provide our systems with military support and defence in return for the product, and grant our worlds effective autonomy within their sphere of influence.”
“And you trust them?”
“Of course not. But they are politicians, Mr Russell, so they can be bought. And, of course, sold if they no longer suit us. Just as they sold you to me for this task.”
I growled. “No one buys or sells me.”
“Get real, Russell. Enough money buys anyone, and I have enough money. I believe you have already had a brief interview with one of our legal team: called, shall we say, Mr Lyre? A terribly appropriate nom-de-plume.”
I nodded.
“Then you know the terms. You have to lift ship, fly to a specific destination within the Imperium, collect an item – quite legally, I assure you, from one of the facilities owned by my Corporation - and then deliver it to a location of my choice. For that you will receive a very substantial sum of money, and your career within the Free Union Space Corps will resume. Now, is that a deal?”
“The people who live in these five systems.”
“What of them?”
“Do they want to be ruled by the Emperor, or by The Council of The Free Union?”
“What they want, Mr Russell, is for tomorrow to be just like today and for their jobs to be safe. The rest doesn’t concern them. That’s my business, and my Corporation’s. The Free Union will give us a better deal than the Emperor offers us, and that’s all there is to it. And the people on these worlds? Are you honestly going to tell me that they will notice the difference in who rules over them?”
“Where does their freedom come into it?” I asked.
Will Portals leaned back in his chair and laughed again. He waved one arm vaguely around the expensively appointed office in the most expensive privately owned spaceship in the galaxy. “I’m a rich man, Russell. I’m free anywhere and everywhere. But if you have no money, then freedom is a cheap word and an expensive lifestyle you can’t afford. This is all about business, and you would do well to remember that. After all, to further advance your career, a friend or two in high places will be a contract bonus for you, won’t it? Now, please decide, I have a party to go to.”
“Okay, I’ll do it. For the money.”
“Of course. What else is there?” Portals opened a drawer in the desk and took out a fat envelope. “This contains Security Badges and ID cards showing you are a senior staff member of Gala Tech Inc, on my personal staff. The co-ordinates of your two destinations are here with a star chart showing the research facility and with the approach codes that will mark you as my personal representative. You will cross the Imperium’s borders tomorrow as part of the Vintage Spacecraft Intergalactic Rally, and therefore with little or no inspection. The envelope also contains various documents in connection with the Rally, just in case you do get stopped. Now, I’ll bid you good evening. The guards will show you to appropriate quarters and conduct you to your ship tomorrow morning. Good evening, Mr Russell.”
Will Portals dropped the envelope on the otherwise empty top of his desk and walked past me without a further glance.
*
The Speedbird was immaculate. I mean immaculate. The hull had been expertly repaired, in a time I would not have believed possible. It had also been polished inside and out. Even the inside of the freezer had been cleaned and restocked – a dangerous task and not one to be taken lightly or without protective clothing. Clearly Will Portals’ money not only talked, it was insistent and had quite high standards. Even the sleeping area was unusually clean. I lay down on the bed, to see if it had a new mattress. It didn’t. But it was quite comfortable…
The fierce light of a pencil torch shining in my eyes woke me up nearly as fast as the pain from the weapon that had been jammed into my ribs. “What? Who are you lot, and how did you get in here?”
The weapon was removed, and the torch snapped off. I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on the three men dressed as expensive thugs rather than soldiers (that is attired in matching suits rather than matching uniforms) who loomed above me as I lay on the bunk.
“Mr Portals doesn’t like his mercenaries to go to sleep on the job.” The nearest thug I vaguely recognised as one of the stewards I had seen on the door of the Mayflower at the party.
“What?”
“Work while you’re alive, and sleep when you’re dead is his motto. For people like you, anyway.”
“Have you just woken me up to insult me, or do you actually want anything? And how did you get onboard my ship?”
“Gala Tec did the repairs to the airlock, so of course we have the access codes. And don’t think of trying to change them. The last mercenary who did that found his airlock doors fail while he was in deep space. Took ages to clean him off the walls, it did.” All three chuckled, although I didn’t find th
e joke very funny.
“For the third time, what do you want?”
“Mr Portals has a message for you.” The thug pulled a small square capsule out of his pocket and put it on the table next to the sleeping pod. He pressed a button on the top, and the nearest face of the capsule shimmered, and became a screen with Will Portals’ face on it. A recorded message started playing.
“Mr Russell. It has come to my attention that matters are progressing in a manner that means your errand has taken on more urgency than anticipated. You will lift ship and start your mission immediately. I expect you to carry out the task with expedition, please. One of my staff will now be accompanying you to provide technical assistance and support, should it be required. We will speak later.” The capsule fell silent, then began to smoke. It self destructed, leaving a nasty burn mark on the newly refurbished table.
“What, now?” I asked.
“Mr Portals likes his instructions followed to the letter.” The lead thug waved at his colleagues, who marched off without a word. “I’m coming with you now.”
“Why?”
From below, there was a loud noise as the airlock doors were slammed shut.
“My job is to do what I’m told. You know what your job is, now go and do it.”
“Right,” I sighed. “What do I call you?”
“You don’t. If I need to speak to you, I will. You will not need to speak to me. In fact, you will not tell anyone at all that I’m on board. Otherwise I’ll shoot you.”
“Who’ll fly the ship then, you moron?”
The thug smiled, revealing several missing teeth. “That won’t be your problem, mercenary. You’ll be dead.”
“That seems clear enough.” The thug backed off a bit, and I rolled off the bed and onto the floor, before climbing to my feet and examining him in detail. The effort was not worthwhile, so I headed for the kitchen area.
“The flight deck is that way.”
“I know, But I need the toilet facilities first. Just relax, will you? I’ll get sorted, get coffee, and then we’ll lift ship.” When I emerged from the shower cubicle a few minutes later, dressed again in my flight suit, the thug was standing where I had left him. But there was a large mug of hot coffee waiting for me in the kitchen area. “Thanks,” I said, surprised.
“It’s my job to facilitate your completion of your contract.” He then pointed, in a pointed manner, to the door to the flight deck.
The flight console had been polished. Even the ancient coffee stains had vanished. “Wow,” I exclaimed. “They did a good job in here.”
“I cleaned up in here. I have a talent for removing stains – of all sorts.”
“Look, just go easy with the threats, eh? I’m under contract to Portals, and I’ll do what I can to fulfil it. That’s why he hired me. You just back off, and let me get on with it, okay?”
The thug seemed rather more satisfied with that than anything else I had said and stepped back a pace. I turned on the comms system and the nav comm and started entering the co-ordinates for the destination into the flight computer. The envelope from Will Portals I shoved into the holder for the flight manual, and then I fired up the main drive.
“Aramantia Flight Control, this is Speedbird 666. Request departure clearance.” I flashed a significant glance at the thug. “One pilot on board, local flight to system rim for testing of repairs.”
“Speedbird from Aramantia Control. Departure approved. No traffic, you may depart at your own convenience.”
“Another trip down the toilet then,” I muttered, and added some power. The Speedbird rocked on the landing gear, then lifted off the ground. I headed off the apron, and once clear of the facility shoved the power lever fully forward and the Speedbird accelerated. In had hoped that the thug would fall over, but he just used the door frame as a support. His impassive expression never flickered.
The Speedbird rose up through the atmosphere, and as we reached escape velocity and left the unseen grasp of the planet’s gravity behind, the thug relaxed slightly. “Were you expecting trouble?” I asked him. “Is there something I should know? And why the sudden urgency to get going?”
“If there was anything you needed to know, Mr Portals would have told you. How soon to hyperspace transition?”
“We need to get clear of that asteroid belt first. And your tech crew might be pretty good with a mop and bucket, but even they can’t make this ship accelerate faster than her design specs. We’ll reach VH, transition to hyperspace when we get there. Now shut up and let me drink coffee and fly.”
The thug retreated to the living quarters, but left his miasma of distrust and suspicion behind him. In that spirit I opened up the combat screens on the flight computer, and promptly received an alert. Flight control might have claimed that there was no traffic, but another ship had emerged from behind a dust cloud and had settled into the same flight path as the Speedbird.
“Hey, you. We’ve got company.”
The thug arrived in the flight deck faster than I would have thought possible. “Show me.”
I pointed to the bright dot on the flight screen that represented the other ship. “It’s too far away to see what it is, yet. But it’s on the same course as we are.” I tweaked the direction a little, and after a few moments the trace of the other ship showed a similar small change in direction.
“Did they come from Aramantia?” he asked.
“No, they were already in space.”
“Then I suggest we outrun them. Your specialist skill, I understand. Mr Russell.”
“When we pass the asteroid belt, I’ll be able to transition. Until then, it’s a bit risky.”
“They are closing rather fast.”
I ran a small routine on the combat computer, that confirmed the closing speed. It was much higher than I liked. This other ship was blindingly fast, in comparison to the Speedbird. The glowing dot on the flight computer grew closer and closer. I flipped open the safety cover over the hyperdrive control.
“Can you tell what sort of ship it is, yet, Mr Russell?”
“Not really. But we can rule out a battlecruiser, obviously. It’s far too small. And I don’t think it is going to be a StarDestroyer, either. It’s closing very fast. So fast, I’m starting to think it is going to catch us before we pass the asteroid belt.”
“Tell me again why we have to pass that belt before you engage the hyperdrive?”
“Because… the risk is this: if we reach VH – and we are nearly there, by the way; if we reach VH, engage the drive and there is an asteroid close to us, it could easily get caught in the hyperdrive field and be sucked along with this, to smack into our hull with an increased velocity just when we drop out of hyperspace. Smack. End of our mission, end of the Speedbird, and end of us.”
“Hum. What are the percentage chances of that, Mr Russell?”
“Higher than I would like. Look, we are reaching the outlying small rocks now.” I made a small adjustment to our course vector and the Speedbird swept past an asteroid the size of a small house, leaving it spinning wildly behind us. That gave me an idea. I teased the directional thrusters and tried to get as close as I dared to the rocks, twisting through them rather than following a simple avoidance path. Our passage sent them tumbling across our wake in an unpredictable pattern. I opened the rear view vidscreen and turned up the magnification to maximum. The ship behind was still a long way behind, and the image was too small for me to identify it. The thug either had much better eyesight than I did, or some inside knowledge.
“That, Mr Russell, is one of the new Type 45 StarDestroyers. None of them in service yet. Officially.”
“The designation seems familiar. I’m sure I’ve heard someone mention them recently. But if they aren’t in service, is that one a demonstration model then?”
“Very likely, Mr Russell. They are built in one of Gala Tec’s shipyards that lies deep inside the Imperium. The first five units are presently under evaluation by the Imperium – and this is prob
ably one of those.”
The lecture was interrupted by an explosion off the port side. A missile from the StarDestroyer had just obliterated a large asteroid. I thought about engaging the automatic evasion routine on the combat computer, but there were still too many rocks around. Another explosion reduced their number – and as that explosion had been slightly ahead of us, that meant we were now in range of the Type 45’s weapons systems. I didn’t need to look at the combat screen to see that the Speedbird had nothing that could reply, so I triggered the defence pod instead. Then pushed the power lever as hard against the stop as it would go and held it there.
“The defence screens will take power from the drive,” I said to the thug.
“So the rate of acceleration will slow.”
“Yes, but we should survive a direct strike. Good trade off.”
The Speedbird shook, and there was a crashing noise from the living quarters.
“Survived that one.”
The speed rose further and the indicator needle hovered just below the green line that marked VH, the transition speed to hyperdrive. I activated the manoeuvring jets, and twisted round a large asteroid, leaving us with a steady starboard roll. There was a vicious explosion on the asteroid, as a space torpedo hit that instead of us. In the rear vidscreen, the StarDestroyer grew larger. Large enough for us to see that it carried no markings, not even the spaceship and sun of the Imperium.
I reached for the defence pod controls and sprayed a selection of space mines across our wake. The StarDestroyer took evasive action, and lost ground. I spun the Speedbird and released more mines. The vidscreen lit up with a huge flare as two of the mines exploded on impact. A second flare followed the first: one of the mines had exploded close to a passing rock, and diverted its orbital trajectory to smash it through the StarDestroyer’s screens and crash into the hull just below the bridge. The thug was glued to the screen now, while my whole attention was on the speed.
“You actually hit it! You hurt a Type 45 with this antiquated bucket of bolts!” exclaimed the thug in amazement. “Mr Portals will not be pleased. The Type 45 is supposed to be much superior in combat!”
Interstellar Mercenary Page 11
