Do No Harm

by Chris Kennedy

  While Verne was recalibrating the system’s targeting menu, the Zuul shot him twice, but both bolts were deflected by the suit. Realizing he wasn’t damaging the suit, the Zuul dove for the hatch. Verne saw the movement and fired at the pirate. His first two shots were well behind the fleeing alien as the rifle came up but then the third bolt speared the Zuul in the center of his back with a long burst, and the pirate slammed into the edge of the hatch and bounced back. He was still moving, so Verne aimed at the creature’s head and fired again.

  Verne realized he needed to work on his firing discipline. He hadn’t led the creature—leading was another new skill he would have to learn and incorporate into the suit’s targeting system—so the beam had hit the Zuul in the throat. The body of the alien started spinning slowly as its remaining heartbeats pumped its blue blood out of its body. As it coated the engine room, Verne gave the Wrogul version of a sigh—that was even more mess he’d have to clean up.

  He walked over to the intercom box and carefully pushed the button. “Bridge, Engineering. How is everything up there?”

  “Not good,” said David. “There are three of the pirates”—there was the sound of someone being struck, then he continued—“uh, three bosses here. They have just informed me we are under new management. I am to shut down our drives prior to being incorporated into their organization. If we don’t do what we’re told, they are going to put all of us out the airlock. So please do what they say and turn off our drives.”

  “I will do so,” Verne said. He knew he needed to get up to the bridge, but that would take time. “I am not really sure how, though. The engineer was killed by the…by the new bosses, and I am so new I do not know what I am doing. Perhaps you could explain what needs to be done? Slowly, so I understand?”

  “You don’t—” Steele started, but then he figured out what Verne wanted. “I understand you don’t know anything about engineering, yet, being new like you are, so I will explain how to do it. First…”

  David started reciting the procedure for how to turn off everything in engineering, but Verne was already in motion, jetting as quickly as he could toward the bridge. He went faster now, knowing there was a limited amount of time remaining before the pirates started making good on their threats. He also thought he had a little better control of his jets and that he could use the maneuvering thrusters a little better. Still, neither were perfect, and the times he hit the bulkheads were especially jarring to him and damaging to the ship. The armor fared a little better, but he still had a number of caution lights illuminated by the time he reached the bridge.

  He stepped through the hatchway onto the bridge and found things as David had said. There were three Zuul; two were armed with laser rifles, which they aimed at Verne when he entered, and a third who had a laser pistol, pointed at David’s head.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  “What the hell is that?” asked the Zuul holding the pistol to Steele’s head.

  “It’s a modified CASPer,” David replied. “You should give up now before he shoots all of you.”

  All the Zuul put the hostages between them and Verne. “I don’t know what a CASPer is,” the Zuul leader said, “but I’m guessing there is someone inside that metal monstrosity. If there is, you need to come out right now or your captain is going to have a breeze running through his head.”

  “I do not think so,” Verne said. “In the Tri-V movies, when the hero comes out from behind his protection, he always gets shot. I think I will stay right where I am.”

  “If you don’t come out before I count to five, I will kill him,” the Zuul said. “No matter what else happens, your captain will be dead.”

  Verne raised his laser rifle, hoping his impromptu sighting programming was good enough.

  “One,” the Zuul said.

  Verne turned on the targeting system and put the reticle on the Zuul’s head, as far away from David’s head as he could, while still having a reasonable chance of killing the alien.

  “Two.”

  Verne analyzed Steele’s stance. He seemed resigned to his fate. If he could accept it, so could Verne.

  “Three.”

  Verne fired, and the beam speared through the Zuul leader’s head. Steele knocked away the pistol and dove away from the Zuul, but Verne only caught the motion peripherally, as he was already turning toward the Zuul on the left. It was still looking at the leader, and Verne had time to put the reticle on the Zuul’s forehead as the navigator dove away from him. Verne fired and the second Zuul died.

  He only made it halfway around to the last Zuul before a pain like having a magnifying glass focus Azure’s starlight on his skin burned through his #5 arm. He completed the turn to find the third Zuul had thrown away his hostage to give him a better view of the VASPer—and the burning was because Verne had been shot! A second hole appeared in the VASPer just over Verne’s head. If he’d been Human, the beam would have gone through his upper chest, and he would be dead.

  Verne’s reticle raced up the Zuul’s body, but the surprise of the near miss “freaked him out,” and he triggered the rifle while it was still in motion. The Zuul was hit in the leg, stomach, and head as it fired one last shot, which ignited the padding next to Verne’s head in his VASPer. He slapped it several times with multiple arms, putting it out, then looked at his damaged arm.

  The laser bolt had nearly severed the last third of the arm, and his fluids were pouring from it. Verne grabbed the two sides with his primary arms and held them together while another arm grabbed the box he had purchased because Todd made him, even though he had never expected to use it. He flipped open the medkit and grabbed the dispenser. It was already set for Wrogul—because who else would be using it?—and he sprayed the nanites all around the wound, using the majority of the canister in a single application.

  He had only thought the wound burned before, and he screamed as the nanites went to work repairing his tissues. If given a choice, he would have gladly been thrown into Azure’s star instead. After a few moments, the pain abated, and the wound closed. He could still feel the nanites working under his skin, but most of his pain receptors were on his outer skin, so it was more of an itching than true pain.

  As the fire on his arm eased, he realized the knocking he’d thought was his heart was actually David pounding on the VASPer. “Are you all right?” he asked, over and over. His face was white, and he looked like he had seen a ghost.

  “I am fine…now,” Verne said as he opened the canopy. “I was hit with a laser and had to reattach one of my arms, but I think I am all right now.”

  “That was the scream we heard?” the navigator, Susan Steele, asked. If anything, she looked even more concerned than David did.

  “I suppose,” Verne replied. Mercenaries were not supposed to scream, he knew, and his photoreceptors flashed red with his blush. Happily, the Humans could not see them under his suit, so he tried to ignore it and move on. “It burns a lot when you use a medkit,” he added.

  “Thanks for using the laser and not your sword blade,” David said, nodding to the meter-long blade attached to Verne’s arm. “That will make the bridge easier to clean up.”

  “You are welcome,” Verne replied, now flashing every one of his lights crimson. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten he had the blade. He wasn’t sure how knowing it existed would have changed what he’d done, but the fact that he had a weapon at the start of the fight and hadn’t known it made him…not the best mercenary ever. Perhaps it was just a matter of inexperience—real mercs went through training programs and cadre and things like that, but he felt embarrassed by his first showing.

  “Well, if you’re okay,” Steele said, “we need to get our ship detached from the pirates’ and get the hell out of here. Can you go do that?”

  “I can,” said Verne, closing his canopy. He started to go, but then turned back to David. “Before I do, though, I have an idea I think we ought to try.”

  * * *

 
; Verne sealed the docking collar and detached the Leaf from the pirate vessel. “We’re clear,” he said as he maneuvered back to the bridge.

  He felt the ship come under power—the G forces brought back his stumbling, bumbling gait—but he still made it to the bridge quickly. “Did I miss it?” he asked upon entering the bridge.

  “No,” David replied. “We waited for you.” He pointed to the main Tri-V screen and said to the Susan, “Do it.”

  The navigator pushed the transmit button, which sent a signal to the charges Verne had placed. The Leaf was carrying a shipment of mining supplies to a colony and included in the manifest were two pallets of explosives. Only one pallet would reach the colony; the other had been spread around the exterior of the pirate vessel. At the signal, twenty charges detonated simultaneously—including four placed over the engineering section—and the atmosphere from the ship decompressed explosively.

  Verne knew he had just killed all the Zuul onboard the vessel, but he didn’t feel any remorse. They had come aboard and killed members of his crew, including Terry Collier, and they had gotten back what they deserved. That one is for you, Terry.

  Verne knew paying your debts was important to a merc, and he had done so. Maybe, just maybe, he would make a good merc after all.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  Verne finished his application for Cartwright’s Cavaliers and sent it off, including an un-asked for picture of himself beside his VASPer in the aftermath of the pirate attack on the Leaf. The blue Zuul blood, which was different from a Human’s, was sprayed across the armored suit in patterns any abstract expressionist painter would have loved. His lights showed the Wrogul expression of susulol—a combination of happiness, confidence, and satisfaction.

  As he looked around the “room” he rented on Karma station, his lights flashed anything but those Human emotions. His grandfather was right—beings expected to be paid, and on stations like Karma, they expected to be paid a lot! His room was tiny, with barely enough space for his VASPer and his motorized tank, which was currently empty. It did, however, have a terminal that allowed him to access the latest job boards, for a fee, and to transmit merc applications, for a slightly larger fee.

  If he did not get picked up by one of the mercenary companies soon, he would be out of credits, and he was not sure what would happen then. He had heard things were cheaper on the planet, but there was a fee to transport him there, and if he got called for an interview, he would have to pay to come back to the station, and he was not sure he had the credits to cover a two-way trip.

  He had tried going to the mercenary pits, but since he was not a registered mercenary, he wasn’t allowed entry, despite his combat experience with the pirates. After two very large Besquith troopers had ejected him from Peepo’s Pit—with promises to find him later and eat him—he had decided there had to be better approaches.

  He now had applications on file with all of the Human merc organizations on Karma Station, and it was a matter of waiting…and waiting…

  * * *

  When he woke up, two of the Humans’ weeks later, he found two messages waiting for him. The first was from Drake’s Rangers, a company that specialized in infiltration operations. In order to accomplish their missions, they used a lot of highly specialized equipment. The personnel officer of the Ranger’s had noted that since Verne had built his own CASPer, complete with modifying it to fit his racial characteristics, they might be willing to hire him for a technician position. While they were not able to pay him a huge salary or give him a combat position, they would pick up the fee for his mercenary registration.

  At least it was a start, and it could help him get hired as a combat soldier down the road. He would have to give that offer some consideration…but not too much, as he only had a two-day window in which to reply.

  The other message was from David Steele. “Hi, Buddy,” the Human said on the Tri-V message. “We weren’t able to find a new engineer, and I’m hoping I can pick you back up for another run. I know this isn’t what you want, but it will be quick, and I can pay you a chief engineer’s wages for your time. It’s just a quick hop, one transition each way, to drop off a merc company where they’re going to be doing some garrison work. You’d be doing me a big favor—not that saving my ship wasn’t big enough—and I’d really appreciate it.”

  Steele looked at the camera a few seconds then added, “I really need you. There isn’t anyone who is as good a mechanic as you on Karma. I didn’t expect there to be. Unfortunately, there also isn’t anyone who is at all qualified. I can hire a newbie, but I need someone to work with him for a couple of weeks. Please, Verne? I really need you. This contract is going to expire today, and I won’t be able to take it without a qualified engineer. Please let me know if you can help me as soon as possible. Thanks!”

  The message ended with Steele looking hopefully at the camera.

  Verne replayed both messages, then wished he had the ability to sigh. The opportunity with the Rangers, while not what he ultimately wanted, was at least an entrée into the merc world. He would get his merc credentials. From there, anything was possible.

  The opportunity with Steele only served to delay any chances he had of ever becoming a merc. If any of his applications bore fruit, he would be off the station when the company called, and he would be unable to take the job.

  But he knew, having grown up with Humans, that only one of these was the right thing to do. You helped a friend in need, even if that person hadn’t always treated you as well as he could have. Judging by Steele’s message, at least he would be paid this time, and that would allow him to rent the room for a little longer while he continued to look for a merc job.

  Before he could change his mind, he drafted and sent a “Thanks but no thanks” message to the Rangers, consoling himself with the knowledge the position was not a combat one, merely one where he would be a REMF. He didn’t want to be rear echelon; he wanted to be a real merc.

  With another simulated sigh, he drafted a very different message for David Steele.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I’ve only been gone for three weeks,” Verne noted. “How did so many things go wrong so quickly?”

  David Steele sighed. “After you left, we picked up a new engineering officer—a Zuparti—and what he said was his wife. As it turns out, they were a brother and sister team that was running a big con.”

  “They ran a convention? Was it a science fiction convention? I have read some excellent sci-fi by—”

  “No, not a convention, a con where they hustle you out of your money. It’s when they promise you something, but rather than deliver it, they disappear, taking your money. Well, they used the Leaf as their getaway vehicle. The male barely knew anything about engineering, and his sister knew even less. When we made it to our drop-off point, they disembarked to get some needed parts—with my credits—and disappeared. We never saw them again, or the money they were supposed to use to get the parts we needed. I need this run just to make up for all the damage they did…and I don’t have money for repairs or other supplies so…”

  “You’re hoping I will use my “magic” and fix everything that is broken, without you having to pay for new equipment.”

  “That would be nice,” Steele said.

  “I will do what I can,” Verne replied. I really need to learn how to sigh.

  “That’s great,” Steele said. “Thanks.”

  * * *

  It was bad enough many of the systems were broken. What was even worse was that the Leaf’s cargo was a company of mercs from the Copperheads Mercenary Company going to a garrison contract. While the ship had enough space for the 45 CASPers in its cargo bay, the company’s personnel filled the available living space to overflowing, to the point where the mercs had to “hot rack”—where two or three personnel would share the same bunk. When one person got up, the next person would get in. It seemed to violate everything Verne knew about Humans
needing personal space, but no one was sharing his closet, so he didn’t care.

  The extra personnel, however, put a strain on all the equipment, and by the time the Leaf emerged from hyperspace, Verne was exhausted. Between trying to keep the engines running, the ventilation system filtering—the mercs created some of the most unpleasant odors—and all of the waste removal systems operating, he barely had time to get any rest of his own.

  He had delayed a number of projects he thought were priority jobs in order to keep the mercs happy. Steele had noted that, as the saying went, “The customer is always right,” but in this case, they took it one step further. When mercs got angry, they tended to break things, resulting in extra work, and Verne ended up spending an inordinate amount of his time fixing things for the mercs. While that was generally unpleasant—they really did smell badly, even to Verne—they did, on a couple of occasions, allow him to do some work on their CASPers, which was decidedly not unpleasant.

  He had heard a couple of their maintenance personnel talking about a stuck motivator they could not get unstuck, and he volunteered to take a look at it. When he was able to unstick it, he was invited back for a couple other procedures the maintenance personnel either could not do, or ones which were so dirty that they did not want to do them.

  Verne was happy either way. He didn’t mind getting dirty—usually it would slough right off—and it got him into their CASPers. Sitting in their armored suits—their real, honest-to-their-God CASPers—was just…awesome! He took a number of pinplant and Tri-V images so he could adapt his, when he had the time. He also got to run through a simulator sequence on one for about ten minutes, as a thank you for a particularly dirty job, and he got to see what the operational screens looked like. He even got the techs to give him a copy of the CASPer software. He didn’t tell them it was to upgrade his VASPer; he didn’t even tell them he had the VASPer. He just asked to see it to find out if there were improvements he could make. Adapting the software to his VASPer had taken an entire one of his sleep periods, but it had been worth it.