by J. N. Chaney
Dash scanned the heads-up one more time, assuring himself that no other traffic might get caught up in what was about to happen. “Okay, then. As soon as they—”
“The targets are in motion,” Sentinel said. “High acceleration, and almost directly conforming to the trajectories we anticipated.”
“Right,” Dash said. “Here we go!”
Dash accelerated the Archetype around the asteroid, then drove hard, straight for the bulk helium-3 carrier. A few seconds later, the Swift powered out from its hiding place and fell into place about a thousand kilometers away from, and slightly behind, the Archetype.
The carrier grew in the heads-up. So did the three pirate ships, which closed on the carrier relentlessly, approaching from three directions intended to give the big cargo ship no escape. Not that there was any chance of it outrunning its far more agile attackers, but pirates didn’t like wasting time chasing things. After all, every minute that went by as they ran down a target was another minute something could go wrong, or some other party could intervene.
Which is just what was happening now.
Dash eyed his trajectory, making a slight correction with a burst of lateral acceleration. Leira conformed to his movements, he saw with some satisfaction; she’d obviously done a good job of learning how to maneuver the Swift. She also slid progressively in behind him. He wanted to keep the glare and electromagnetic racket of Rayet-Carinae directly astern of them both, using it to blind the Gentle Friends to their approach until it was too late to do anything about it. No doubt the pirates would be watching for this, but Dash knew all about the tech they’d likely be using. None of it would be able to discern the Unseen mechs against the backdrop of the star until they were—
About this close, actually. The nearest of the pirate ships turned and burned hard, reorienting itself toward them and bringing weapons to bear. The other two continued their attack run on the helium-3 carrier. Dash could see how their tactics were to play out; the closest ship would attempt to hold off whoever was coming to spoil their little party, while the others stopped and plundered the carrier. And if they couldn’t be held off, then all three would scatter, using their no-doubt impressive acceleration to vanish back into the thick of the nearby asteroid belt. It was a sound plan, and would probably have worked fine against anything that wasn’t two hundred-thousand-year-old alien tech.
Dash targeted the nearest ship with the dark-lance, carefully aiming it at the drive. A salvo of missiles erupted from the pirate, forcing Dash to take a moment to switch to the distortion cannon. He fired, the gravitational anomaly catching the missiles even as they began their attack burns, slamming most them together into a cloud of shattered debris. The pulse also yanked at the Gentle Friends’ ship, pulling it fortuitously into a better orientation for Dash to target. He fired the dark-lance, a quick shot at low power as the pirate’s drive went dark. “Perfect.”
Leira now slid the Swift out from behind the Archetype. As one, she and Dash both fired at the remaining ships, each killing the drive of their respective targets. The helium-3 carrier burned as hard as it could, desperate to escape a battle that had ended as quickly as it began. Dash arced the Archetype away from the pirates, Leira close behind, swatting away a few sporadic missile shots with the dark-lance as he did. He finally brought the mech to a stop about ten thousand klicks away from their quarry.
Leira slowed and wheeled the Swift around, stopping a few kilometers away. “Okay, that was amazing!”
“I know, right? Of course, it gets quite a bit hairier when the targets belong to the Golden.”
“Indeed, this was hardly a test of the Swift’s capabilities,” Tybalt said, “Or, for that matter, of yours, Leira.”
“Just let me enjoy my moment, okay?”
“It would be remiss of me to allow you to consider this some major achievement—”
“Can you guys stop bickering on air?” Dash snapped. “We’re not exactly done here yet.”
Silence followed. Dash nodded and said, “Okay, Sentinel, let’s see if our Gentle Friends out there are interested in talking.”
“I am broadcasting a message now.”
Dash waited.
Finally, Sentinel said, “We are receiving a reply.” At the same time, a window opened on the heads-up, into which was painted the slightly grainy image of a dark-skinned woman with black stubble for hair, a silver ring dangling from her nose, and a truly amazing number of earrings. A defiant look hardened her face, but Dash could tell it was a façade over a mix of shock, fear, and awe.
“Okay,” the woman snapped. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you might want to send some pictures back to your families so they’ve got something to remember you by.”
Dash opened the channel to transmit back to her, smiling as he did. “Big words from someone sitting aboard a ship with a blown-out drive,” he said.
“Oh, it’s not me you need to worry about. I’ve let the Gentle Friends know all about you—”
“That is a falsehood,” Sentinel said. “Your transmissions have been jammed, preventing you from making contact with any of your fellows.”
To her credit, the woman’s resolve slipped only a fraction. “Yeah, well, they’ll find out about this. And when they do—”
“Please,” Dash said. “I’d prefer we move past all the bravado and get down to business. Let’s start with names. Mine’s Dash. And you are…?”
The woman crossed her arms and Dash sighed. Was he really going to have to wait for her to work through all the bullet points in the I’m going to be a stubborn asshole playbook? But she finally said, “I’m Wei-Ping. I’m practically number two in the Gentle Friends, so once word of this gets back—”
“Yeah, I get it, terrible vengeance, we’re doomed, all that stuff. So, with that out of the way—if you’re just number two in the organization, then I want to talk to number one.”
“About what?”
“About buying a ship.”
“Buying a—” She stopped, then barked out a laugh. “You’ve got a funny way of doing business…it was Dash, right? What sort of name is Dash, anyway?”
“What sort of name is the Gentle Friends? You don’t seem gentle or friendly.”
A man with dark hair tied back in a ponytail and a face like a hatchet stepped into view and whispered something to Wei-Ping. While she listened, Dash watched her face, especially her eyes. They went briefly wide, then she clamped her air of bravado back in place.
“Okay, look—” she began, but Dash cut her off.
“Just found out your comms really have been jammed, haven’t you?” he asked.
Wei-Ping hissed in frustration. “You did all this because you want to buy a ship? There are lots of other places you could do that.”
“I didn’t go to lots of other places,” Dash said. “I came here. And I came with these.” He waited as Sentinel transmitted clear images of both the Archetype and the Swift. “Not exactly what you’d call conventional, are they?”
Wei-Ping narrowed her eyes at something off to her right, presumably a display holding the image of the two mechs. “What the hell are those?”
“Something that you and all your Gentle Friends can’t hope to take on.”
Wei-Ping looked back. Now that it seemed Dash didn’t intend to immediately destroy her, her face took on an appraising look, with a hint of cunning. “Okay, let’s say I believe that. What’s the point? You seem like someone who knows their way around hard vacuum. You could have just gotten word to us the way everyone else does.”
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have really gotten your attention, would I? I’d just be another guy in line wanting to do business with you. See, this way I’ve got your full attention. And, as soon as we stop jamming you, I expect to have Benzel’s full attention, too.”
“Oh, you got our attention all right,” Wei-Ping said. “It’s attention you’re going to regret, though.”
“Really? Back to this?” Dash aimed and fired t
he distortion cannon, the abrupt gravitational yank slamming Wei-Ping’s ship hard to one side and knocking her partly out of the frame. When she recovered, he went on.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get Benzel on this channel, and I’m going to talk to him.”
Wei-Ping, whose bravado crumpled when something had pulled her ship aside, fought to recover her poise. “Okay. Fine. Stop jamming us and I’ll get him on the line.”
The window went blank.
“So did they manage to get comms through your jamming, Sentinel?” Dash asked.
“They did. They used a comm laser to establish a link with a remote relay located on an asteroid approximately fifty thousand kilometers away.”
Dash nodded. He’d assumed the Gentle Friends would try something like that. He’d even hoped they’d try it. If they’d just rolled over and accepted their fate with no attempts at defiance, he’d have been awfully disappointed. Instead, they’d proven themselves both resolute and resourceful, two qualities they’d need if they were going to be of any use fighting the Golden.
Although that, Dash thought, was a far from certain yet.
“Dash,” Leira said. “There are half a dozen ships underway in the asteroid belt, all converging here.”
“I see them, yeah. Sentinel, how long until they’re all in a position to come at us.”
“Assuming they do not simply attack us piecemeal as they arrive, and take sufficient time to position themselves for a coordinated assault, at least one hour.”
Should be enough time, Dash thought. Wei-Ping would now play for time, trying to stall until her cohorts arrived to rescue her.
“All right,” he said. “Her next move is going to be telling us that she can’t get Benzel on the channel, she doesn’t know where he is, blah, blah.”
As though on cue, the window reopened on the heads-up. “I’ve tried raising Benzel, but he’s—”
“Let me guess—he’s not available right now.”
He heard Leira chuckle.
“No, he’s not,” Wei-Ping replied. “You’re going to have to wait.”
Dash gave a theatrical sigh. “Benzel, let’s cut out the bullshit, okay? I know you’re monitoring this channel, I know you’re probably aboard one of the ships that’s coming to rescue poor Wei-Ping here—” He studied the heads-up. “Let’s see, I’m guessing the ship coming at us from spinward, just about the ecliptic plane, because it’s bigger than the others, which means you’re probably compensating for a small—”
“Who the hell are you?” a new voice said, with a gruffness that was at least partly forced.
Sentinel opened a second window, this one revealing a stocky man, smoothly bald, with a neat, close-cut beard and an intricate tattoo that spilled from the middle of his forehead down the left side of his face.
“Benzel, I presume,” Dash said, flashing a cheery smile.
“I’ll ask again,” Benzel shot back. “Who the hell are you?”
“My name’s Dash—”
“Yeah, I got that already. Doesn’t tell me who you are, though, or what the hell those bizarre ships of yours are.”
“They’re the reason I can see all of your ships approaching, despite what are probably the best stealth systems money can buy. They’re also the reason you really want to order those same ships to hold back and not do anything stupid.”
“Seems to me I’ve got the advantage of numbers here,” Benzel said. “It’s going to be fun taking those weird ships of yours apart and figuring out how they work. Oh, especially that seeing-through-stealth thing. That’s going to be really handy.”
“You done?”
“I—what?”
“Just wondering if you’re done with the blustery bullshit.”
“Look—”
“Yeah, I know, you’re going to come and kick our asses.” Dash grinned. “Except, you’re really not. The only ass that’ll be kicked is yours. I mean, we disabled three of your ships without even really trying,” Dash said, pushing his gaze into Benzel’s and letting his grin become a menacing leer. “Trust me, this is not a fight you want to try taking on.”
Benzel locked his gaze on Dash. Dash let him. He had the advantage of not bluffing; the Archetype and the Swift definitely would make short work of any conceivable force the Gentle Friends could bring to bear on them. All Dash had to do was let that certainty show on his face. It was actually a novel situation. How many times had he pretended to be holding cards he wasn’t, to sleaze his way out of trouble? Now, for once, he really was holding those cards. In fact, he was holding the whole damned deck.
Benzel did the stare and glare for a moment longer. Dash saw the exact instant he decided to change tactics, his hard defiance suddenly giving way to a wary, appraising look. Dash could almost read his mind. Okay, whoever these guys are, they’re obviously pretty damned strong, so fighting them might not end well at all. Let’s try to make a deal instead.
Dash got it. He’d have done much the same in Benzel’s place. You didn’t become as obviously successful a pirate as he was without having a certain amount of practical flexibility.
“Okay, let’s say I actually believe you can kick my ass if you wanted to,” Benzel said. “And I’m assuming you aren’t just here on some crusade to uphold the law and justice and such crap, or we probably wouldn’t even be having this conversation. So what is it you want?”
Dash settled back in the cradle. He definitely wasn’t in his element trying to deal with enigmatic aliens and their smart-assed AI’s, but when it came to dealing with people like Benzel, he was. He offered the pirate an easy grin and put on a more relaxed air.
“A smart man and straight to the point,” Dash said. “I could come to like you, Benzel.”
“The feeling’s not mutual.”
“Well, I’m hoping it can be.” Dash leaned forward. “I’m here for a ship. Something decent-sized that can take care of itself in a fight.”
Benzel stared for a moment, then held up a hand and said, “Wait. You have—whatever the hell those things are you’re flying, that can apparently kick my whole fleet’s ass, but you want one of those ships whose ass you can kick. Why?” His eyes narrowed. “Is it because you’re really more talk than action, maybe?”
“Yeah,” Wei-Ping put in. “Maybe he’s emptied his magazines, eh? And now he’s just bluffing.”
Dash had expected this, and had already picked out an asteroid about a three hundred meters across for a little demonstration. Without a word, he targeted the little hunk of rock with the dark-lance and fired. The almost-invisible beam flashed out, briefly connecting the Archetype and the asteroid, then the latter simply vanished, blown to dust. He looked back at Benzel. “How’s that thinking that I’m just bluffing here working out for you?”
Wei-Ping opened her mouth but closed it again. Benzel just slid back into his oily let’s make a deal persona.
“So you want a ship,” he said. “Something that can fight. Alright, let’s toss the who’s-bluffing-who bullshit out the airlock and get serious about this.” His dark gaze bored into the display. “Why? With whatever firepower it is that you’ve got aboard those—what in the hell are those things, anyway? They look like giant robots.”
“They are giant robots. And I need a ship because I need a ship. If you want to know more, we’ll need to talk in person.”
Leira’s voice whispered in his ear, “Dash, what are you doing? Meeting face-to-face was never part of the plan.”
He ignored her. “What’s say we meet somewhere away from prying scanners. While we’re doing that, you can have the rest of your ships come rescue Wei-Ping and the rest of your people floating around out here.”
Benzel looked at something off the display, then turned back and nodded. “Fine. I’m sending you some coordinates. I’ll be there aboard the Snow Leopard. It probably fits what you’re looking for.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “And don’t forget to bring your credit chip.”
&nb
sp; “Sounds good. Oh, and in case it isn’t obvious, if you try to double-cross me, I’ll have the Archetype—that’s what the bigger of the two mechs is called, by the way—I’ll have it find and destroy every one of your ships and installations. Every single one. And you won’t be able to stop it.”
Benzel shrugged. “I don’t do the double-cross thing.”
“I’m sure you don’t.”
“By the way, how did you know to find us? For that matter, what made you come looking for us in the first place?”
“A nice lady named Harolyn put me onto you,” Dash replied.
For the first time, Dash saw Benzel genuinely deflate. “Harolyn? Harolyn deBruce?”
“That’s her.”
“Well, shit. I still owe her credits.”
“And some gear. I know. She told me. Oh, and she asked me to pass along a message to you.”
Benzel sighed. “What?”
“She says, Hi hon. Never did hear back from you about that stuff you owe me.”
The pirate sighed again. “Great. Word of this gets out, we’re pretty much ruined.”
“Oh? Because you somehow owe money and stuff to someone who was supposed to be paying you for protection? I’d love to hear the story behind that, by the way.” Dash shrugged. “Anyway, you’re right. Your reputation—in fact, the reputation of the Gentle Friends as a whole—is on the line here. As is, incidentally, your physical safety, because I will happily hunt down each one of your ships and take them out, one by one, until you’re genuinely ready to talk.”
“We’ll be at the rendezvous,” Benzel snapped back. “And we’ll be genuinely ready to talk.” He gave a sneer and added, “Don’t be late.”
Dash suppressed a grin. Even right to the end, the man was trying to maintain some tiny measure of control. He’d let him have it. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dash replied. “See you in a couple of hours—and one more thing, Benzel.”
“What’s that?”
“Could you wear an eyepatch? Feels more authentic,” Dash said.
“So you’re a well-armed asshole,” Benzel said.
“That makes two of us. Be on time. Dash out.”
