by Terry Mixon
Shelly quickly led the other woman over to where Brad and Jason were standing. “Jason, you’ve met Michelle, right?”
Jason took the taller woman’s hand and bowed over it. “Indeed I have. It’s good to see you again.”
Shelly turned Michelle to face Brad. “Captain Brad Madrid, meet Captain Michelle Hunt.”
Brad took the woman’s proffered hand and shook it. “Captain Hunt.”
“Just call me Michelle. The title is just a courtesy. I’m a diver pilot.”
He nodded in understanding. Divers were little more than life pods, tanks, and magnetic scoops. They dove—hence the name—into the surface of the two largest gas giants and brought back valuable gases. Like the He3 JoveCorp had been losing.
Following up on his suspicion, he smiled. “JoveCorp?”
He didn’t think so, but he wanted to be sure. JoveCorp employed most of the divers around Jupiter.
She smiled and shook her head. “SaturCorp out of Blackhawk Station.”
Brad couldn’t stop his eyebrows from rising. SaturCorp was one of only two corporations working near Saturn. Both of them worked out of Blackhawk, which was the only inhabited location in that planetary system. The ringed giant fell into the odd gap between the populations of the semi-lawful Outer System and the utterly lawless Fringe.
“When Shelly found out I was on station, she invited me to your party,” the woman continued. “For which I’m grateful. I was starting to look forward to going back to Blackhawk. That only happens when I’m really bored.”
Brad understood. Heart had called at Blackhawk’s massive refineries and fuel tanks a couple of times. The station was about as plain as physically possible. The list of distractions aboard the station had driven Marshal to despair. Brad didn’t envy the thousands of people that called it home on a semi-permanent basis.
“Since you two don’t seem to have noticed,” Shelly said, “the rest of us are going inside.”
Brad glanced around and realized he’d gotten so wrapped up in the conversation that he’d missed the others entering the hall, so he followed them inside.
It didn’t take long for him to fade into the background. He shortly found himself propping up a handy wall. It wasn’t that the music was bad or that he disliked dancing. This was just his way.
He held a beer but only occasionally sipped it as he watched his crew have fun. He was just considering taking his leave when Captain Hunt approached.
“Do you actually drink?” she asked. “Or is that just for decoration?”
Brad raised the almost-full bottle slightly. “The latter tonight, I’m afraid. I’m not much of a socializer, Captain.”
“As I said outside, call me Michelle. I always feel silly when people call me captain, with my crew being so small.”
“You’re in sole charge of your ship and the lives aboard her. That’s what makes you a captain, not how large your crew is.”
She snorted. “I’m a diver pilot. I have a long list of regulations controlling what I can and can’t do. Men and women like you are the people with true independent authority.”
“I have independent authority only as long as I remain one of the most efficient killers in the solar system,” Brad said with more bitterness than he usually allowed himself. “As a mercenary captain, you have to realize that when you accept a contract, people are going to die along the way to its completion.”
“Not your company,” she objected. “You haven’t lost a single person in three years. That’s one of the reasons you’re the smallest platinum company in existence.”
He arched an eyebrow at her awareness of his company’s stature and their record.
“Shelly is a dear friend,” she said with an embarrassed shrug. “I’ve kept tabs on the Vikings ever since she joined.”
Brad raised his bottle in acknowledgment. “I’m afraid you misunderstand. While we’ve been incredibly lucky and managed to keep all our people alive, we’ve done so by killing more people than I can reasonably count.
“In fulfilling a contract, people tend to die. No matter which side they’re on, there’s guilt in that for the man who orders it. Not something I’d imagined myself doing when I was growing up. Independence comes at a heavy cost.”
“I see,” she said softly. For a moment, they stood in silence and she studied him. “You’re not at all what I thought. I kind of expected you to be more standoffish, based on how Shelly described you. No offense.”
“None taken. Shelly is my subordinate. That imposes a certain bias on our relationship. And the fact that she keeps trying to set me up with her friends hasn’t helped us grow chatty.”
Michelle laughed. “You’ve noticed that tendency of hers, have you?”
“It’s hard to miss,” he observed dryly. “She seems to regard the fact that I’ve kept to myself for the last three years as a horror. She claims she’s given up on me, but I remain skeptical.”
“She’s convinced that love should not only be contagious, but aggressively contagious,” she said with a smile. “She also doesn’t limit her matchmaking to her male friends.”
Brad surveyed the room again, noting that his crew appeared to be sufficiently distracted for him to make his escape.
“So, why are you here?” Michelle asked, stopping him from making his excuses and departing.
“Hmm?”
“All you’re doing is leaning against the wall, watching people,” she observed. “And talking to me, but I initiated that.”
“As I said, I’m not much for social occasions.”
“Ah,” she said before turning away to survey the crowd herself. “They’re having fun, aren’t they?”
“They’ve earned it. They deserve to be able to relax every once in a while.”
“And you don’t?” she asked softly.
“I’ll relax once I’ve achieved what I’ve set out to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Something I’d need a lot more alcohol to discuss, I’m afraid.”
“As you wish,” she said with a quirk of her lips. “To be honest, I’ve grown less fond of large groups in the last few years too. That probably comes from spending half my time on a ship that only requires a crew of three.”
Brad nodded his understanding but remained silent, unsure of where she was going.
“Shall we head out?” she asked after a long moment, a twinkle in her eyes.
He found himself smiling. This was an unexpected turn, but not unwelcome. “Sure.”
“Will Shelly expect you to say goodnight?”
“No. She makes sure I come to these things, but doesn’t expect me to stay all that long.”
Michelle flashed him a bright smile. “Then why don’t you grab us a cab? It’ll keep her from swooning in delight at her potential matchmaking coup. I’ll join you in five minutes.”
Chapter Four
Brad woke to an unfamiliar weight on his arm. Smiling gently, he luxuriated in having Michelle’s warm body curled in his embrace.
They’d gone for dinner after the party and talked. The restaurant was near Brad’s apartment and they’d ended up there, drinking. He wasn’t entirely sure who had made the first move, but it hadn’t been long before they’d found more pleasurable pursuits on their minds.
He smiled lazily, knowing that everything was right with his world for the first time in a long while. As he did, he felt Michelle shift and stretch.
“Good morning,” he said softly.
She startled and then relaxed. After a moment, she rolled carefully to face him.
“Good morning,” she replied, her voice equally soft. Then she kissed him.
Events were proceeding in a highly satisfactory manner when a buzzer cut through the quiet of his apartment. Brad came up for air and swore.
“Com call,” he said. “I’d better take it.”
She sighed but helped him disentangle himself from her and the sheets. The buzzer sounded again as Brad jumped out of bed, desperately
trying to find something decent to throw on. As the buzzer sounded for a third time, he grabbed a bathrobe and belted it around his waist.
The buzzer was sounding for the fifth time as he finally sat at his desk and ordered the console to accept the call. Hiroshi Kawa’s face appeared on the screen.
“Good morning,” Saburo’s father said with a smile as he took in Bard’s robe. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Morning, Hiroshi. Not exactly.”
When Brad didn’t add anything, the older man shrugged. “I wanted to catch you before you left for your office.”
“You’ve succeeded. I assume there’s a specific reason?”
“Indeed. It brings me great pleasure to inform you that the basic work on hull number nine-kay-kay-gee-six-seven was completed last night. She should be fully outfitted and ready for commissioning within thirty days.”
Hiroshi wasn’t just Saburo’s father. He was also the owner of one of the premier ship-building and repair firms in the Io Yards. Since he’d rebuilt Heart of Vengeance after Brad had captured it from pirates and slavers, it had been a certainty the Vikings would use his services to expand.
Brad grinned. “As always, your people have performed miracles. That’s wonderful!”
“I’m going to take a shower,” Michelle whispered as she passed the desk. “Join me when you can.”
Her voice was pitched low, but something must’ve gotten through the com.
The older man’s eyes widened. “My deepest apologies,” he said, inclining his head. “I hadn’t considered that you might have company.”
His tone didn’t sound sorrowful at all. In fact, his expression indicated sly approval.
“It’s not what you think,” Brad said somewhat desperately. He didn’t want Shelly to find out so soon.
The older man’s lips quirked. “It hardly matters what I think. If there’s a woman in your apartment—which certainly seems to be the case—I’d imagine talking business is not the weightiest matter on your mind. We shall speak later.”
The tiny old man winked and cut the call before Brad could say another word.
He turned to Michelle. She stood there, gloriously nude.
Her expression was somewhat abashed. “Sorry. I didn’t think I was loud enough for the com to pick up. What was that about, anyway?”
Brad grinned, suddenly unconcerned about word getting out. It wasn’t as if he was ashamed. Far from it.
“That was my builder notifying me that the Vikings’ new ship will be commissioned in a month.”
“Oh?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s good news! Give me details!”
“She’s a destroyer. Brand spanking new and she incorporates the best equipment money can buy—and a few things that money shouldn’t be able to buy.”
“You have to be pleased. A destroyer sounds really big and powerful.” She smiled seductively. “I get all worked up when something big and powerful comes along. You know, I think the shower can wait. This calls for a celebration and I know just how to do that.
“Besides,” she purred as she drew him to his feet and peeled his robe off, “I want to leave you wanting more when I ship out for Saturn this afternoon.”
Brad was unsurprisingly very late getting to the office. He felt as if everyone would guess why, and knew he was even blushing a bit. He covered it by briskly summoning his senior staff into the conference room.
He sat at the head, of course. Shelly, Jason, and assistant engineer Jim Shoulter filled the right side of the table. The left held Saburo, Trista, and Mike Randall, Heart’s chief engineer. John Marshal sat at the far end of the table, as befitted the ship’s executive officer.
“All right, people, to business,” Brad said. “I received a call this morning from Hiroshi that our new ship is one month away from commissioning.”
That sparked a lot of celebratory conversation that he had to eventually calm with a few knuckle raps on the table.
“As you’d imagine, that will mean we need to reorganize. I’ve been thinking long and hard about it and I’ve made a number of decisions. Some of them will not be popular, but I think they will be what’s best for the Vikings.”
That caused a bit of consternation. Each of his officers glanced around the table at the rest, likely gauging if anyone else know what was going on.
“No, I haven’t discussed this with anyone,” he confirmed. “I’m sure it will come as no surprise that I’ll take command of the new ship. When I do, Marshal will come with me as executive officer and command pilot, Randall will become her chief engineer, and Saburo will be our combat team leader.”
Brad watched his words sink in. Marshal seemed momentarily stunned and then narrowed his eyes in a glare at Jason.
“Eyes on me, people,” Brad said firmly. “I need our most experienced people on our most powerful ship. I also have to see that Heart is well taken care of. I’ll be happy to address your individual concerns, but let me finish first.
“I’m inclined to hire someone from outside to command Heart. Jason will move up to serve as her executive officer as well as her tactical officer, and Shelly will serve as her pilot. Marshal says you’ve passed your certifications with flying colors, so well done. Jim will become Heart’s chief engineer and Trista will be her combat team leader.”
He glanced around the table. “We’ll have a lot of new folk coming in to get us back up to full strength. I’ll work with each of you to make sure you’re involved in the process as it concerns your departments.”
Marshal cleared his throat. “Why aren’t you giving me Heart? I’ve got the experience to command her.”
His glance at Jason implied the tactical officer didn’t. And, sadly, he didn’t. Not yet.
Jason’s eyes slitted and his lips compressed. “At least I’ll be sober when trouble comes calling.”
“Enough,” Brad said, his tone cutting off Marshal’s response before he made it.
He shot Jason a stern glare. “I won’t tolerate that kind of disrespect to a superior officer.”
The young man sighed and slumped back in his chair. “I was out of line, but I wasn’t alone.”
Shelly looked as if she was going to inject herself, so Brad held up his hand. That would only make matters worse if more people—particularly an aggrieved party’s lover—leapt to their defense.
“No, you weren’t,” Brad said to Jason once Shelly closed her mouth.
He shifted his gaze to Marshal meaningfully.
“You two have been working hand in hand for three years,” he said after a long pause. “I expect better from both of you. I won’t ask either of you to apologize. You wouldn’t mean it, anyway. But I will demand professional behavior. Is that clear?”
Once both men had nodded, he continued. “Jason, you don’t have the command experience I’d like. I’m sorry, but you’d be commanding a ship in space, and that’s different than the combat experience you currently have. A stint as executive officer will season you. Once the Vikings grow again, you’ll be a strong candidate to command a ship.”
He waited for the tactical officer to nod before looking at Marshal.
“You have the experience, John, but not the temperament. What Jason said was out of line, but if you want to be seriously considered for command, you need to start addressing some of your off-duty behavior.”
“I’ve never been drunk on duty,” the pilot protested.
“No,” Brad allowed. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t caused a fair bit of havoc while on leave. That would be your business if it didn’t blow back on the Vikings. Which it has.
“I’d rather have had this conversation in private. Neither of you should have had to hear it with the rest of our people looking on, but you brought that on yourselves. I expect my officers to be better than this. If either of you expect to ever command a ship in space, you’d best get your acts together.”
Brad looked at each person around the table to see if they had anything to add. When they each
shook their head, he continued.
“Until now, I’ve preferred an informal system of command. The new ship is going to change that. She’s a full-sized destroyer with a crew of forty-six and a thirty-man combat team.
“To prevent confusion once we start hiring new crew for her and replacements for Heart—and we all know Heart could use an extra hand or six herself—I’m afraid we’re going to have to formalize our rank table.”
From the shocked silence that greeted this pronouncement, none of them had considered it. Which was rather myopic of them, as it was an obvious consequence of the vastly increased size of the Vikings.
“To make it quick and simple,” he said softly, “I’ll just tell you the new rankings. I’ll formally take the rank of commodore and the title of captain on the new ship. If it was only a single ship in the company, I’d stick with captain, but two ships means we need a flag officer. I hope we’ll keep growing so that doesn’t sound as pompous as it does now.”
That got chuckles from everyone, breaking the gloom that had settled on the room.
It was kind of pretentious to have a destroyer captained by anything more than a commander, but mercenaries had their own traditions. He’d adjust.
“Heart’s as-yet-unknown commanding officer will be a commander by rank and a captain by title. John will be a commander as well as executive officer on the new ship. Jason, Shelly, and Jim will be lieutenant commanders. Trista is now a senior lieutenant and Saburo is a major. I figured we’d skip captain in the troop ranks to avoid potential confusion.”
For a moment, the room was quiet as they digested the changes. Then congratulations and mild—but mostly joking—complaints began to fill the air. It was, after all, the mercenary way to find something to complain about.
Once he’d let that play out, Brad raised a hand and they quieted again.
“That completes my special announcements, so we can start our regular meeting. Randall, what’s the status on Heart’s repairs?”
The docking port assigned to ships going to Blackhawk Station was relatively empty when he and Michelle met there a few hours later. There were only two vessels at the moment: a small liner for tourists and SaturCorp personnel, and a tanker used for ferrying gas on its way to the Inner System. It was going back empty for a fresh load.
