Interstellar Mercenary

by Will Macmillan Jones

  “How much combat experience have you got?” he asked, fear in every syllable.

  “Some.”

  “They’re Black Ops!”

  “So what?” I triggered the flight stabiliser and the green target that was swirling across the combat comm screen stopped moving and held focus on the Viper. I armed the missiles and snapped off a shot.

  The Viper reacted as if it had been stung. Clearly the crew had not been expecting any resistance, let alone an incoming strike. The Viper’s engines flared, starting to take evasive action; and the space torpedo, following its programming, tried to turn to follow. The Viper accelerated away and rolled to the right – straight into the derelict escape pod’s path. The two collided, the pod crashing through the force field defence screens of the Viper and smashing into the hull, which split open like a ripe tomato. The Speedbird rocked wildly in the force of the resulting twin explosions, but the flight stabiliser promptly restored order.

  “That was lucky!” accused Xzylon.

  “Yeah. And you know what? The more I practise, the luckier I get. No one plays pool with me any more in the bars though, so that’s a downside.” I got up from the pilot’s seat.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need some coffee. Then we’ll set course for the next destination.” I left the flight deck, which was lit by the light of continuous explosions from both the front and rear vidscreens as both the space station and the Black Ops Viper scout ship blew themselves apart with enthusiasm.

  Chapter nine

  The million or so stars that formed the nebula filled the vidscreen with beauty. In direct comparison, the enormous freighter hanging to one side of the screen was blunt, efficient and undeniably ugly. Oh, I’ve no doubt that the designer would burble on for hours (with sufficient financial or alcoholic encouragement) about form and purpose providing aesthetic merits of their own: anyone else would just say that the ship was brutally ugly and move on to look at something else. Perhaps the Mayflower class space yacht owned by Will Portals that I could see was somewhere off our port bow? That was undeniably pretty, ruined only by the knowledge that you had to be one of the richest individuals in the known universe to even think about taking out for a spin, let alone owning it. I called up the screens that provided a three-sixty degree view and saw more ships. Clearly we were in the middle of a substantial operation.

  I would also have preferred to look at the nebula than the somewhat creased face that appeared next on the screens, courtesy of the comms channel. “This is Gala Tec Security. You have entered a restricted zone. You are requested to state the purpose of your visit immediately, or defensive action will be initiated.”

  In corporate-speak I assumed defensive action meant that we would be attacked, so I quickly initiated the defence screens before replying. Be prepared is the space scout’s motto, after all. “This is Speedbird 666, on special assignment to report directly to Mister Portals.”

  Security didn’t exactly reply ‘A likely story mate, they all say that now get lost’, but he was close. “Do you have a mission code and a Base Return code?”

  “No. One of the crew had the codes. Sadly he died during the mission.”

  “Without some identification, I regret you cannot be accommodated.” The security guard motioned with a hand. I was glad that I had initiated the defence shields, for the proximity alert sounded harshly across the Speedbird’s flight deck. I touched the combat computer’s controls and the tell-tale icons for four StarDestroyers appeared. Gala Tec had enough muscle here to start a respectable fight. The cost of buying four StarDestroyers meant that only the major corporations could afford them, and the political implications of a private company owning hardware like that were enormous. They were a statement on more than one level.

  The Betelgeusian pushed me to one side so that he could appear clearly in the comms system screen. “I’m Co-Ordinator Xzylon from Gala Tec research station Theseus. The station has been destroyed by Imperium armed forces. I must report to the CEO at once.”

  “Where is your senior?” asked the guard.

  “Dead, or taken captive. Repeat, I need to see The Boss to report.”

  “You will wait.”

  The comms screen went blank. We waited. Not however, for very long. A more senior security operative appeared. Instead of a uniform he wore a suit that looked as if it cost a year’s wages for the first guard who had spoken to us. His accent was refined, superior, and very cold. “Is Mr Thomas on board?”

  “No. Thomas was killed in the action,” replied Xzylon.

  “But you escaped?”

  “I had an over riding mission imperative from the CEO,” said Xzylon with more clarity and force than I thought he possessed.

  “Acknowledged. Wait.”

  We waited, as did the four StarDestroyers that slowly grouped themselves around us with their main armaments pointing directly at us. It felt very uncomfortable.

  The upper-class official returned. “Your lack of clearances… is waived. Authority has been sent for you to directly approach the Mayflower. Standby to receive access codes.”

  “Standing by,” I replied, and waited for the navcomm to report that it was receiving electronic instructions.

  “Drop the defence shields and unlock your airlock, then!” instructed the flunky.

  I checked the appropriate vidscreen. A small shuttle had positioned itself close to the hull. I sighed and turned off the shields and unlocked the outer door. The Speedbird rocked slightly as the shuttle engaged the airlock, and a few moments later I could hear footsteps on the spiral staircase. I felt uneasy, but Zxylon was relaxed. A short human in a Gala Tec Security uniform appeared at the flight deck door. “I’m the pilot,” he announced.

  “No,” I objected. “I’m the pilot. This is my ship, and no one flies her but me.”

  “Fair enough.” The pilot looked at the Betelgeusian. “Want to come with me? I’m going back to the shuttle, then they will blow this ship apart.” He started to walk away.

  “Hang about,” I called after him. “Maybe I can be flexible here.”

  “No, you can’t,” the pilot told me. “Either I fly this antique to dock with Mayflower, or the StarDestroyers attack it.”

  I mulled this over for a moment, then reluctantly climbed out of the pilot’s seat. Unmoved and expressionless, the Gala Tec pilot waited for me to stand out of his way, then took the pilot’s seat himself. I couldn’t hide a grin when the seat made its usual noise and dropped to the floor. The pilot cracked his chin badly on the edge of the console as he descended rapidly with the seat and I sniggered openly.

  “Sorry about that, it does that sometimes,” I apologised, insincerely.

  The pilot growled at me from the floor and stood up. He ignored the seat this time and checked over the flight controls before calling up the comms system. I was quietly impressed by the speed with which he made himself familiar with the layout of the flight console. A layout he no doubt found somewhat old fashioned.

  “Speedbird to Security One,” he announced. “Control assumed.”

  In the vidscreens, the four StarDestroyers suddenly rotated. Now they pointed away from us, protecting rather than threatening.

  “Speedbird from Security One. You are cleared to dock. Protocol One.”

  The pilot touched the power and flew us expertly across the short dividing space to the Mayflower yacht. Even though the Speedbird must have been unfamiliar to him, he docked against the yacht with precision, then shut down the systems and the main engines.

  “Nice,” I told him approvingly.

  He gave me a professional’s nod of thanks. “Please follow me. Do you have anything to bring on board?”

  “I have a case the CEO needs to have,” said Xzylon.

  We went into the living area: it was already full of armed Gala Tec staff, wearing uniforms with unfamiliar badges and insignia. Two of them took up positions immediately behind Xzylon and me, their weapons not quite pointing directly at us.


  “Point to the case,” instructed the pilot.

  “It’s that one,” said Xzylon. “Be careful with it, it is quite fragile.”

  One of the armed staff went and stood beside it. “It will be checked and brought on board,” he said.

  Xzylon looked for a moment as if he might object, then looked at the assorted weaponry around us and thought better of it. The pilot led us out of the Speedbird, and into the Mayflower. Our escort of two changed to four large Terrans dressed as space corps marines. I began to get a feeling of foreboding. This felt as if Portals was preparing for a war – but whose side would he be on? Other than his own? We would find out soon enough. We reached a door, and before it was opened we were checked again for weapons. I had a small blaster hidden inside one of my boots: this was promptly found and removed. Then the door was opened for us.

  “Ah. Mr Russell,” said Will Portals. The guards failed to react to the fact that I was known to the CEO, which simply meant that they were very well trained – and that the CEO frequently met people he knew who were a threat to him.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sir, my name is –“

  “I know who you are, Mr Zxylon,” interrupted Will Portals. “Please, both of you, take a seat.”

  There were two basic seats placed precisely in front of the desk that occupied half of one side of the room. We sat down in front as ordered, and Portals sat down behind the desk. The guards arranged themselves in places where they had a clear field of fire at us.

  “Now, I understand that you lost Thomas. How careless of you, Mr Russell. He was a valuable employee.”

  “A very moving tribute,” I replied. “Yes, Thomas opened a door, and two Black Ops marines shot him from inside the room. There was a very old tune playing, and he claimed it was a security sign and that everywhere was safe.”

  “This tune?” asked Portals. He touched a button on an ancient recording device, and that harpsichord music swelled up and filled the room for a moment, before he turned it off.

  “Yeah.”

  “Xzylon. Why were Black Ops marines allowed on board Theseus?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I was working in my lab when I suddenly heard a commotion and then heavy weapons started firing, further down around the doughnut ring. I had the package you had ordered packed up ready, so I grabbed it and looked out. I could see Gala Tec security running to the action, so I ran the other way and found an unused office in the Hub with access to a place I could hide the device and the papers. By the time I’d done that, Theseus was crawling with Black Ops marines. I don’t know how they got on board Theseus, but they knew all the security codes and protocols.”

  Portals lifted a finger for silence. He switched on a small computer and typed busily for a minute. “Carry on,” he instructed once he had finished. “I suspect Colonel Starker found a weak link and opened it with money.”

  Xzylon swallowed and carried on. “Once they were there, they gathered up all the staff and either shot them out of hand or took them off station. I could hear the shots and the sounds. It was horrible. I stayed in hiding, while two of them opened the room next door. Again, they had all the codes for the locks and security. I could hear one of them reading the codes aloud to the other. That room gave them access to the main core and the power controls. I could hear the warnings as they set the Theseus to self destruct. Then this gentleman and Mr Thomas arrived. The Black Ops men shot Thomas and left. This gentleman convinced me that he was one of us, and that he had a way off the station so we ran for it, and only just got out in time with the comms device and the papers.”

  “Ah.” Portals looked satisfied. “You have them, then?”

  “Yes, sir. Complete and undamaged. The security staff on board have them.”

  “Good. Russell. Did the Black Ops unit not try to stop you from leaving?”

  “Too right, they did. But they only had one Viper class ship still on station then, so I knocked that about a bit and we departed for this rendezvous.”

  Portals laughed. “I do so like you, Russell. You’ll be wasted in The Free Union. Why not join my staff? I’ll give you a good ship to fly.”

  “I’ll give it some thought,” I told him. And thought: not a chance. He was just told Thomas had been killed and never blinked.

  “Good. Now, it is time we departed this location for our next meeting. Here are the co-ordinates, Mr Russell. You may fly your own ship, as the number of pilots who can handle something that old are few and far between now.” He pushed a paper across the desk to me. I waited, although Xzylon rose at the dismissal. “Was there something more, Mr Russell?”

  “My contract payment, Mr Portals.”

  “All in good time.”

  I shrugged. “This feels like a good time to me.” The hairs at the back of my neck lifted as I heard a small but significant sound: the click as the first pressure was taken on a trigger.

  Portals sighed. “How very mercenary of you. Very well.” Opening the small computer on the huge desk, he typed an instruction into it. He turned the screen so that I could see it: It was a banking instruction to pay me the agreed sum. He hit the ‘authorised’ key and switched off the machine.

  “Now, we need to go,” he said. “I have here the device to pass to Colonel Rosto, and the supporting documentation. Now we need to get back to our systems and prepare their defence.”

  “Defence?” I asked.

  “The Imperium will hardly take our Declaration of Independence without a fight, Mr Russell. Colonel Starker obviously has suspicions, otherwise he would not have attacked the Theseus. Now there is no more time to waste. Let’s go. You will stay in formation with us please, and I will ask you to fight if we are attacked. For which there will be a contract bonus.”

  “Fair enough.” That’s what mercenaries do, after all.

  The office door was thrown open, without the courtesy of a knock first. I saw Portals’ eyes narrow, and a hard cast come over his expression. He did not like being interrupted, but the flight officer ignored the implied threat.

  “Sir,” she said a little breathlessly. “An Imperium force has emerged from hyperspace in close proximity. We need to take immediate action!”

  Portals threw some concealed switches on his desk. A wall panel slid aside to reveal a vidscreen. The screen showed an Imperial StarCruiser, with three StarDestroyers and six corvettes as a screen around the larger ship.

  “Mr Russell?” asked Portals, without discernible haste: “Would you take tactical command of our force? I believe you are the expert. What is your advice?”

  “That’s Colonel Russell.”

  Will Portals acknowledged the correction with a graceful inclination of his head and a half smile. “Colonel,” he agreed.

  “Depart at once in the opposite direction. Mayflower first, me behind, and the four StarDestroyers split on either side of me as protection for this yacht.”

  Portals pointed at the flight officer. “Relay the Colonel’s instructions immediately. He will be returning to his ship, which will command during this action.”

  The flight officer looked astonished, but then discipline took over and she saluted and hurried out of the office.

  “And then?” asked Portals.

  “Then we run away. Back to your systems.”

  “Sensible advice which we will follow. Get back to your Speedbird, Colonel, and once out of immediate danger we will talk again.”

  I saluted – it felt strange, but it seemed appropriate.

  “You will need this.” Portals scribbled some numbers on a sheet of paper and slid them across the desk to me. “Co-ordinates for the home system.” He held galactic space co-ordinates in memory – I was impressed. “Go!”

  I turned and ran for my Speedbird. It was still held tight against the Mayflower’s hull. Fortunately, only the secret communications device and the annoying scientist had been removed. I slammed the airlock door behind me and without a thought for my new status ran up the spiral staircase and
into the flight deck as fast as I could.

  All the flight systems were still warm, and I had the comms and combat systems open in a flash. “Speedbird to Mayflower, disengaging dock.”

  “Speedbird, docking system cleared for disengage.”

  The Speedbird fell away from the hull of Portals’ ship, and as the engines came to life I took up a position behind the yacht and slightly above it, to keep clear of the engines. The proximity alert bleeped, and the vidscreens showed me that the Imperium’s ships were approaching at an oblique angle.

  “Colonel Russell to Gala Tec units. Errr, let’s run away. Now.” Not perhaps the most professionally worded order, but with that StarCruiser closing on our formation, no one was bothered. The main drive of the Mayflower fired, and the yacht began to accelerate.

  Quickly I fed the co-ordinates into the navcomm, and pushed the power lever all the way forward, before lifting the covers on both the hyperdrive control switch and the combat switches. When I looked back up to the vidscreens, the Imperium battle group was appreciably closer – and the Gala Tec ships were further away from them than I was. My elderly Speedbird was slower than these newer ships, and I was being left behind.

  Was it deliberate?

  I looked again at the vidscreens, this time with the combat computers’ action overlay. The Imperium’s corvettes were closing very fast now, and the race was on. The speed rose closer to the green line showing VH, transition to hyperdrive velocity. As I looked up at the screens again, the Mayflower reached VH and winked out of sight. Gone, safe. Moments later the four Gala Tec StarDestroyers followed.

  The missile lock warning sounded, loud and frightening. I was in range of the corvettes, but still not at VH. I chewed my lip for a moment, then pursed my lips and initiated the defence screens. That would divert power and slow my rate of acceleration, but who wants to be fast and dead? The missile lock sounded again, and grimly I dropped the nose four degrees to change course slightly. That attitude change would not stop me transitioning safely on course.