Heart of Vengeance (Vigilante Book 1)

by Terry Mixon

  “Sounds complicated,” Brad commiserated.

  “I imagine so, but it will prove lucrative for the company.” The man settled back into his chair and considered him. “And for anyone that personally seized them, if they file the paperwork contesting any competing claims.”

  Brad frowned. “I’m not sure I follow you.”

  Jaeger smiled a little. “That’s complicated, too. The Commonwealth’s deep-space salvage laws, while derived from similar laws for oceans on Earth, have a few unique quirks regarding pirates and slavers.

  “If one finds a ship drifting abandoned in space, there’s a complicated process to locate the owner or heirs and determine the salvage fee due to the people that saved the ship. The salvager doesn’t get ownership of the ship directly.

  “Slavers and pirates are different. A ship seized in the commission of those crimes becomes the property of the company or individual that captured it. In this case, my crew fought off the pirates and seized their ships. The company that owns Louisiana Rain automatically becomes the not-so-proud owner of a few run-down pirate ships, as soon as we can detach them from our hull.”

  Brad settled a little deeper into his chair. “That seems pretty straightforward.”

  Jaeger smiled. “Appearances can be deceiving. The company is quite pleased that we’ve survived and that we brought them a lucrative and unforeseen windfall. That pleasure might be somewhat muted when they learn of the competing claim.”

  “Competing claim?”

  “Indeed.” Jaeger picked up the pile of hardcopy, removed a set of papers, and pushed them across the table to Brad.

  He picked them up. “What are these?”

  “Salvage papers for the largest of the pirate ships. It’s based on Fleet’s Fidelis-class heavy corvette. It masses about five thousand tons, but I’m not sure about what drives and weapons it carries.

  “It also happens to be the ship you boarded. You killed the crew in that action, so under the letter of the law, you have a claim to that vessel. You quite literally seized it during an act of piracy.”

  “That seems like a technicality,” Brad said with a shake of his head. The possibilities a ship opened up for him were huge, but it was just too much. “It was attached to your hull. While I took out their boarding party and crew, it probably wasn’t the only boarding party from that ship. Your people fought and bled, too.”

  “I’m told that technicalities are the very soul of the law. When the arbiter questions me, I will have no choice but to confirm that you personally and single-handedly boarded that enemy ship and killed every pirate aboard it. As much as my company will scream, that makes it yours. Or it will once the proceedings are complete.”

  Brad frowned. “Your employers are going to be pissed. Why are you doing this?”

  “We owe you,” Jaeger said simply. “If you hadn’t done what you did, my crew and I would be dead right now. My company will just have to make do with the other two ships.”

  Brad did some quick calculations in his head. “Captain, you’re talking something like sixty million credits of armed spaceship. That feels a little excessive as a thank you gift.”

  “How highly would you value your life and the lives of those under your care?” Jaeger asked gently. “I think it sounds about right to me, though I suspect the actual value is somewhat less than that, once you look at the repairs and upgrades it probably requires.

  “And, as I said, I’m certain the company will contest your claim, but I feel confident you’ll triumph in the end.”

  Brad looked at the papers, stunned. “What am I supposed to do with a five-thousand-ton warship?”

  Even as he asked, ideas began to flow into his head. Working as a merc was one thing, but it would take a power base and independent transportation to hunt down the Terror. This ship could give him both.

  “Remember the contact I gave you for the Mercenary Guild?” Jaeger asked. “She can help you find a crew as easily as finding you a place in a mercenary company. Also, if I send along a glowing-enough commendation—which I will—the Guild will probably help you get started.”

  He paused. “Also, my people loaded about half of the weapons and equipment we salvaged into that ship’s cargo hold. The ships were a good place to put all the salvaged materials, after all. Finally, since pirates are not fans of banking institutions, it wouldn’t surprise me if there were stashes of money aboard the ships. All of those things will help you get started.”

  Brad still hesitated, so Jaeger leaned forward. “Mr. Madrid, my crew and I owe you our lives. One ship and a bunch of guns and armor we could never use are the least we can do. Sign the claim and I’ll dutifully send it to Ganymede.”

  He nodded slowly and signed the papers. “Done.”

  “And done,” Jaeger said smoothly, taking them. “I’ll send these with a competing claim on the company’s behalf. We’ll see you at the arbiter’s office. May the best man win…Captain Madrid.” He added a slow wink to the last.

  “I suggest you complete an inventory of your own. You’ll want to be certain the details in the claim are correct. If you find something off, I can assist you in amending the paperwork.”

  Brad climbed to his feet. “I’m not sure what to say. Thank you, Captain Jaeger.”

  The other man smiled. “It seems as if you knew exactly what to say after all. Good luck and good hunting, Captain.”

  Brad sat in the command chair aboard the corvette. The bridge was small, only three duty stations: helm, fire control, and communications. The command chair sat between the other three consoles, nicely positioned to see everyone’s screens.

  Behind him, a highly overdone plaque above the bridge entrance announced that the ship had been named Bloodthirster. That was definitely going to go. He made a mental note to look up how one went about rechristening a ship.

  He looked down at the arms of the command chair. From his studies, the same place on a Navy ship like Freedom held a set of repeater screens that could call up data from any console on the bridge. The repeaters could even allow the captain to fly and fight the ship alone if he was truly desperate.

  Brad added command chair repeaters to the open file on his wrist-comp. It became just one more entry in a long list of modifications he wanted to make. The pirate ship was a rather crude hack-job on a solid base design, effective but far from efficient.

  He stood with a sigh, crossed to the helm console, and surveyed the controls. They were complex but no more so than any other ship. Thanks to Shari, he could probably fly it in an emergency, but he’d need a real pilot.

  The memory of her death came flooding back over him. Rage and grief briefly swamped him before he pushed them back. He would have his vengeance, but he needed his wits about him now.

  Fortunately, he knew where to find a pilot. One who owed him.

  First, though, he needed to finish his initial examination of the ship. Engineering was next and he dreaded what no doubt awaited him there.

  Two hours later, Brad was in Rain’s bar, going over his list. Foremost on it were the ship’s drives. The corvette had mounts for three drive units but had only two, and they were of completely different types.

  One was a Skylark III, putting out two thousand kilonewtons of thrust. The other was more than twice as powerful, a Falcon IV providing five thousand kilonewtons.

  Not only did the engines look different, which messed up the symmetry of the ship, but the unbalanced thrust would cause significant problems controlling it under power.

  The second concern was the corvette’s weapons and targeting scanners. Both, in Brad’s opinion, were useless.

  The scanners could probably hit something Louisiana Rain’s size, but anything smaller would almost certainly evade them. Not that it mattered. The guns were the mass-driver equivalents of giant blunderbusses. Pinpoint accuracy, no matter how good the scanners were, was impossible.

  Marshal set his beer down next to Brad’s elbow. “So, the conquering hero has decided to joi
n us, has he?”

  “Well, I can’t spend all my time being fawned over by busty women, can I?” Brad asked reasonably.

  Marshal snorted and sat down. “Touché. The beer’s on me, this time at least. My own little repayment for saving our asses.”

  Brad shrugged and then downed half his beer. “I should take advantage of this while it lasts, huh?”

  “Definitely.”

  Silence descended for a moment as both men sipped their beer. “Have you worked out what you’re going to be doing once you reach Ganymede?” he asked.

  The pilot shrugged. “Look for work, obviously. There aren’t all that many fully qualified pilots this far out. That makes it an employee’s market.”

  Brad regarded the man over his beer. He figured Marshal was being overly optimistic. The look in the man’s eyes suggested that he probably thought so too. In the Outer System, people were perfectly willing to let less-qualified pilots fly them.

  “You want to cut to the chase and get a job now?”

  Marshal sat up straight, his quick move belying the number of drinks he’d probably had. “What do you mean?”

  Brad grinned. “I seem to have seized a pirate ship. Or I will have, once the arbiter makes the final call on Ganymede. The law seems pretty clear, and Captain Jaeger has already annoyed his bosses by sending a statement that backs me up. So, it seems I need a pilot.”

  “You own a ship?” Marshal demanded, openmouthed.

  “It’s a corvette and she needs a lot of work, but it seems I do.” Brad stared at Marshal steadily. “So, what do you say, Mr. Marshal? Are you willing to work for me?”

  The pilot was silent for a moment. “I think one of us going to end up regretting this, but you’ve got yourself a pilot.”

  The next six days went by in a blur. He and Marshal threw themselves into examining the corvette. Most of the physical gear they left in place, not even hunting for the money stashes that they’d lose if the claim process didn’t go their way.

  Brad spent more than half of his waking time on the computers, breaking past the various encryptions and codes on the ship’s systems. They were a mess.

  He found a few tidbits of interesting information along the way, ranging from the names of the crewmembers—a file he shot over to Captain Jaeger, as it should help in collecting any standing bounties on the dead men—to the program the corvette’s pilot had used to counteract the thrust imbalance of the ship’s drives.

  As an afterthought, he added new operating system to his list of desired upgrades.

  The ship had an obsolete—but perfectly serviceable—Fleet anvil, so he could take care of some of the repairs and upgrades on his own once they had more time.

  Marshal turned up while he was considering the possibilities of that, and dropped off a list of upgrades he’d come up with in his own, slightly more time-consuming survey of the ship.

  It was more substantial and undoubtedly costlier to satisfy, he was sure.

  The two of them were still discussing it when Captain Jaeger signaled from the airlock. Brad walked down and met him.

  “I thought you’d like to know we’re almost inside Ganymede’s traffic control perimeter,” the other man said. “It’s time for us to part company. Can you make it in under your own power?”

  “I think so,” he said. “Come on up to the bridge and let me verify that with Marshal.”

  The liner captain looked around at the former pirate ship as they walked. “You’re going to have a lot of work to do to bring this up to spec. I know someone on Ganymede that might be able to assist you with that, for a price.”

  “That would be good. We can do some, but we’re going to require a major refit in the not-so-distant future.”

  Once they stepped onto the bridge, Brad passed the news on to Marshal.

  “Can we actually fly ourselves in?” he asked.

  The pilot considered the controls for a moment before nodding. “Yes. The program to mesh the engines is a mess, but a low-velocity docking with station computer backup is a pretty low bar to meet. I suppose we should get our gear.”

  The liner captain shook his head. “With your permission, I’ll have the purser pack for you. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your departure preparations.”

  The purser had already shown his appreciation, and that of his people, by giving the corvette’s living quarters a thorough cleaning. Brad suspected that he’d also replaced some of the consumables, because he doubted the pirates went in for high-thread-count sheets.

  Brad looked at Marshal and nodded when the pilot did. “That sounds great. Please pass our thanks on to all your people.”

  He offered Jaeger his hand. “And thank you, Captain. For everything.”

  Jaeger shook his hand. “We still owe you, Captain Madrid.”

  He handed Brad a business card. “This is for the yardmaster at the Io Shipyards I mentioned earlier. I took the liberty of contacting him already and he says he can clear a berth for you once the arbitration is complete.

  “Good luck, gentlemen. I’m certain you’ll succeed in whatever you choose to do.”

  Two hours later, Brad lounged in the command chair, watching over Marshal’s shoulder as the man slowly detached the corvette from the liner. The pilot handled the delicate adjustments of the imbalanced thrusters like a maestro, gently clearing the larger vessel.

  “Our assigned docking bay is oh-six-nine, Marshal,” Brad told him. “The beacon is on frequency one-zero-six-zero-six.”

  Marshal nodded, and typed the number series into his console. A flashing red crosshair, with the numbers 069 floating next to it appeared on the main screen. The view slid sideways as Marshal triggered the maneuvering thrusters again, turning the corvette to face the beacon.

  “We’re clear of Louisiana Rain.” Marshal said.

  “Take her in.”

  Chapter Seven

  They’d barely finished docking the ship when someone announced themselves at the airlock.

  Marshal raised an eyebrow. “That was quick. Are we expecting anyone?”

  Brad shook his head. “It’s probably the arbiter. Get the board shut down while I go see what we need to do next.”

  He made his way to the airlock and examined the image on the small screen beside it. Three men stood outside the airlock. Two of them looked bored, but the short, balding man in front was angry. Red-faced angry.

  Not the arbiter. Probably someone from the company that owned Louisiana Rain. That likely meant there was about to be a fight about their presence on the ship.

  Well, best to get that out of the way as soon as possible.

  He opened the airlock and stepped out. Before any of the men could react, he closed the lock and secured it. No one would be getting in without Marshal opening the door or him allowing them in.

  The man in front stepped into Brad’s personal space and stuck his chin out aggressively. “You have no business on that ship, Madrid. I insist you vacate it at once.”

  Brad stood his ground, letting his anger leak into his gaze and his stance. “You obviously know who I am. Who are you?”

  “Fabian Breen, with Astro Transport. The owners of the vessel you have illegally seized. You will turn this vessel over to my security officers at once or I shall have charges pressed against you.”

  “I believe the ownership of this vessel is going to be determined by an arbiter,” Brad said levelly. “I’m willing to turn the vessel over to his or her care, of course. You’re more than welcome to wait here for that to take place, but I’m not letting you onto this vessel.”

  No matter what the law said, Brad knew that possession counted for a lot. He wasn’t about to turn this ship over to Breen, or he might never see it again. What was that old saying? It’s easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.

  He could easily see the company moving the ship elsewhere and then getting into a legal fight about the size of the fine they’d have to pay. That wasn’t happening.

  The man’s fac
e reddened further and he took another half-step forward. His face was now mere inches from Brad’s.

  “You do not want to cross me, Madrid. Do yourself a favor and get the hell out of my way.”

  Brad gave in to his demon a little. He placed a hand on the other man’s chest and shoved him back with all the force he could muster. That sent Breen staggering into the guards behind him.

  “You don’t frighten me,” Brad growled. “I’ve killed pirates face to face with a blade in my hand. You’re just a minor annoyance.”

  He allowed his hand to drop near his holstered blade. “If you really want to make this into a fight, you’re going to have to do much better than blustering.”

  Based upon the redness of the man’s face, he was in danger of suffering some kind of blood pressure–related incident. “You’re an idiot. Take him, men.”

  The two guards glanced at one another but made no move to advance.

  Breen whirled on them. “Did I stutter?”

  “Um…sir?” one of the guards asked hesitantly. “Perhaps we should call Ganymede Security.”

  “That won’t be necessary, I hope,” a voice said from farther down the corridor.

  Brad look past the men in front of him and saw a slender woman approaching. She had a couple of men behind her as well. Unlike Breen’s men, these wore matte-black clamshell body armor and carried stubby-barreled riot guns.

  She stopped just short of Breen and his men. “Gentlemen, my name is Kenna Blaze and I represent the Arbiter Guild. Might I inquire what the nature of this public disagreement is about?”

  Rather than try to talk over Breen, Brad decided to allow him to have his say.

  Blaze held up a hand and cut the man off after only a few sentences of his rant. “I believe the Guild was quite clear in their communication with Astro Transport, Limited. Until we have reviewed the evidence and can make a ruling on the competing claims, the Guild will maintain possession of this vessel in trust for the eventual owner.”