Tech World (Undying Mercenaries Series)

by B. V. Larson

  “Are you going to open that hatch?” Claver asked. “All you have to do is touch the key to it.”

  “Not until you answer my questions.”

  “There isn’t much time.”

  “Then you’d better start talking, sir.”

  He glared at me for a moment, but then gave in. “Yeah, I did it. I set up the whole thing. And yes, I already told you that I believe this is a golden opportunity for a man like me to strike it rich.”

  “You’re standing in a sewer, bleeding,” I pointed out. “Your plans have failed.”

  “A momentary setback,” he snapped. “I admit, things haven’t gone smoothly. They would have if I’d had more time, but I was forced to act months ahead of schedule.”

  I almost asked why, but then I realized what he meant. “Legion Varus—we came too early. Germanica wasn’t slated to go home for six months, but Turov accelerated the rotation, forcing you to move up your plans.”

  “Exactly,” he said with bitterness. “Now you know one more reason why I shot that woman. Can we get moving now, or do you want a lecture on the birds and the bees?”

  I reached up and tapped the valve with the key. It opened. After a rush of hot water ran down over us Claver began climbing out.

  “Move fast,” he said. “This water is from the cooling jackets. It’s mildly radioactive.”

  His words propelled me, and I was soon standing by his side. I looked around realizing we were in a vast, open area.

  There were ships standing nearby—shuttles and skimmers. Claver watched me closely.

  “All of these were built off-world,” he said. “All of them are therefore controllable by even the lowliest Galactic official. All they have to do is use a key like this one.”

  Looking down at the shell in my hand, I began to realize the kind of power it wielded. I could control anything built for trade within the Empire. It was like having the pass-codes to operate every spaceship ever built.

  -27-

  We picked out a quiet, unmanned pinnace that sat far out at the edge of the hangar. The ship was dark as there was no artificial light close enough to illuminate her sleek lines.

  Walking up to her, I felt a thrill. I’d been aboard a dozen space-going craft, but I’d never even contemplated stealing one and flying it myself. It was the kind of crazy thing I could see myself doing, but I’d honestly never considered it before.

  Claver must have thought he had a dupe on his hands because he didn’t stop talking the whole way to the ship’s hatch.

  “See how the starlight shines out there? There’s a barrier field keeping back the vacuum—or rather, it keeps a breathable atmosphere contained.”

  Starlight shone down on the small ship as we approached her, and I had to admit she was a beauty. Stream-lined so she could fly in space or within a planetary atmosphere, pinnaces served to ferry important people between starships and planets or stations. The big ships like Minotaur weren’t designed to ever touch the surface of any world. They weren’t built to withstand G-forces or endure atmospheric friction. For heavy transportation, they used lifters which were inelegant ships that could enter an atmosphere and leave it again—but couldn’t fly to the stars as they had no form of warp drive.

  Pinnaces were similar, but lighter, faster and smaller. They were like private jets, the kind of vehicle only the rich and powerful were familiar with.

  I tapped the hatch with a thrill of excitement. I remembered that feeling—I’d felt it as a kid while stealing fruit from a government tree.

  The hatch opened immediately, like magic. This key was growing on me. I realized it could open doors I’d never thought would budge for the likes of me.

  “You like it, don’t you?” Claver asked, studying me. “Your first taste of real power. We’re not as far apart as you think we are, McGill. I know a kindred spirit when I see one. We’re both rule-breakers—old school throw-backs. We don’t belong in a universe full of laws, drones, and cameras.”

  “Or locks either, apparently,” I said.

  Chuckling, Claver ducked into the hatch and I followed him. I didn’t trust the old bastard as far as I could spit—not even half that far.

  There was no one aboard. We slid into the cockpit and strapped in. Claver took the controls.

  “You’re no tech, so I’m assuming you can’t even pilot a buzzer.”

  “I could probably manage that,” I said. “But you can fly us out of here. Just where, by the way, are we headed?”

  I’d already calculated the answer before I’d asked the question. I was more than certain he’d say he had a hideout down on the surface of the planet. By all reports, it was a hive of villainy and confusion. Where else would a pair of fugitives run? We couldn’t drift around in orbit—they’d find us eventually, and they might even shoot us down.

  Grinning, Claver pointed through the pinnace’s front dome. The blast shields had slid away so he could see where we were going as the small ship powered up and glided toward the bubble-like force field that held back the infinite vacuum of space.

  I followed his gesture, and I realized he wasn’t pointing at the planet which stretched out, vast and smoke-gray, below us. Startled, I looked at him to see if he was joking. His expression was intent, and I realized he was in earnest.

  “We’re headed for Minotaur?” I demanded incredulously. “How the hell do you expect to get aboard a warship?”

  He waggled his finger at my shell. “You’ve got the key, kid.”

  The scale of this man’s ambition was just beginning to dawn on me. “You’re crazy.”

  “What was your plan?”

  “I thought maybe you had a hideout down on the planet. Maybe some smuggler friends you’d paid off or a stash of credit coins that would buy those friends.”

  “Not a bad guess, actually,” he said. “I had those things not long ago. But the riots have gone too far. They’re spreading across the planet as well as the station. The brass knows. Did they tell you that part?”

  I frowned at him and gazed downward. My commanders hadn’t talked about the planet’s surface much. They’d been grimly focused on hanging onto the station. The way it looked to me, we were on our last legs up here as well.

  “You’re saying we’ve lost this entire world?” I asked. “How could that happen? What the hell did you help unleash?”

  For the first time since I’d met him, Claver looked a trifle sheepish. He shrugged. “A man plans and schemes. He does his best. But sometimes, things do get out of hand. A genie is easier to release from a bottle than it is to stuff back in—you know what I mean?”

  “No, not exactly. Tell me—”

  At this point, a light flashed on the console. A voice spoke.

  “This is Minotaur. There are no flights scheduled to dock with this vessel. Identify yourself and your intentions.”

  I looked at Claver helplessly. “What do we say? They’ll blow us out of space.”

  “Don’t say a damn thing. Think like a Galactic. Be as arrogant as all hell.”

  He pointed to the console. “Touch the key to that contact.”

  I did as he said even as Minotaur repeated their order. The voice cut out half way through its little speech.

  “Uh—boarding approved,” said the voice, sounding surprised and confused. “Are any special accommodations required—sirs?”

  “Don’t say a damn thing,” Claver told me. “Let them sweat. We’ll roll in and set down like we own the place—which we do, in a way.”

  “What’s our cover story?”

  “We’re escorting a Galactic. He’s aboard this ship, and this is a snap inspection. Watch them scurry like mice. We’ll snip their tails for fun.”

  Incredulous, I watched events unfold exactly as Claver suggested. After we glided in to land inside Minotaur’s hangar, he marched off the pinnace with a regal air and scoffed at anyone he met along the way. They all bought his story.

  “All personnel are to report to their modules and stay ther
e,” he ordered.

  The officer who was on hand to greet him hesitated. It was none other than Germanica’s Centurion Dubois himself. This was the man who’d handed over Claver to Graves and I for arrest days earlier. I figured Dubois had to recognize me, and I knew he recognized Claver. He had to be thinking he was in the middle of one of Claver’s infamous schemes.

  “This man was Graves’ thug, wasn’t he?” the Centurion asked, looking at me. “I get it, Claver. You bribed him. Well done. You bought off your own guard and escaped Graves with style. There’s a troubling report, however, from Varus. They say—I know this is crazy—but they say you killed the Imperator…?”

  “That’s a damned lie!” Claver said with a level of conviction I could never have duplicated. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. All such petty squabbles have been superseded. I’m escorting a VIP aboard this pinnace.”

  “Yes,” Dubois said. “Dispatch told me about that. I have trouble believing one of their kind is aboard—”

  “Centurion Dubois,” Claver said. “What you believe is immaterial, but I’ll try to help illuminate the situation in two steps.”

  “That would be appreciated.”

  “First, there’s this,” Claver produced a handful of golden coins. They gleamed and shone in the bright lights of the hangar deck.

  I recognized them right away—they were illegal credit coins. Galactic credits from the Core Systems.

  Dubois’ eyes popped, and he stashed the coins as fast as Claver had produced them. Faster, maybe.

  “Second, I’ll make a statement,” Claver said. “A wise man would execute my orders promptly because the only life in this system that truly matters is in jeopardy. Galactic Agents circulate on many worlds. This world happens to be blessed with the presence of an individual of superior rank. I’ve managed to become her protector and spokesman.”

  Dubois shook his head. “What a sly operator. Your rep is well-deserved. How do you want to do this?”

  “As you may realize, the station will soon be lost to the rebels,” Claver began.

  Dubois and his subordinates exchanged glances. “You think it’s that bad?”

  “The Galactic I’m escorting believes this to be the case. What I think doesn’t matter.”

  “Ah, so she wants to save her own skin? I get it. What do we do?”

  Claver demanded that a color guard be placed encircling the empty pinnace then had Dubois lead us personally to Minotaur’s bridge. He requested a vac suit, and one was provided.

  I cleared my throat meaningfully. Claver looked at me as if I was an afterthought. He knew I was the only man present that could blow his scheme sky-high. Worse, I still had the Galactic key in my possession. He waved for the men to hand over a vac suit to me as well. We both got into them while the Skrull bridge crew stared with their hindmost eyes.

  The crew was, naturally enough, made up of aliens. The Skrull looked like spindly spiders with hard shells and wizened monkey-faces. They were an odd race that hired out as starship crewmen to dozens of worlds. In that way, they were like us. Skilled labor was their trade good just as Earth’s had long been mercenary troops.

  Once we were suited up, Claver ordered Centurion Dubois to send every man they had to their modules on lock-down. Until that happened, the Galactic wouldn’t step out of the ship.

  Dubois whistled. “What cowards they can be. I suppose after a thousand years of extended life they get that way. I’ll do it, but it’s an insult.”

  “Seal the Skrull crewmen inside the bridge as well,” Claver said.

  “Oh come now, their species is as harmless as a bunch of housecats!”

  The Skrull watched us as closely as they watched their instruments but said nothing. Skrulls rarely spoke to aliens like us. They kept to themselves and performed their hired duties as crewmen. I had no idea what they thought of us. Probably, they figured we were something akin to feral beasts. I got the feeling they were an orderly, peaceful race. In contrast we must have seemed like a species of rabid dogs.

  “Your opinions may be correct,” Claver said, turning to his broken tapper as if to operate it. “I’ll report them to her excellency immediately. Centurion Dubois, I’ll need your full name and a designation number to complete my report concerning your refusal—”

  Centurion Dubois began to sputter. “Come on, Claver! I’m not refusing—look, just tell her it’s already done.” He turned on his heel and began barking orders. Claver looked on sternly, staying in character.

  Soon, the ship emptied. Every Germanica legionnaire was safely tucked away inside a module like a hamster in a cage. Only the group that encircled the empty pinnace remained free and armed.

  Claver took care of the color guard next. When he finally made his move, I have to admit the man was ruthless and swift. He walked to the console that managed the vacuum controls. Without a moment’s hesitation, he took down the field that kept air inside the hangar deck.

  The skrulls eyed him, and a few chittered a comment—but they didn’t interfere. They were here to transport crazy humans to battle. What we did to our own kind was our own business.

  Down below on the hangar deck, men were sucked out into space, screaming until there was no more air in their lungs. They twirled away into the blackness and soon stopped struggling.

  I watched the consoles seeing their eyeballs swell and their blood boil in their veins as the zero pressure environment interacted with their chemistry.

  “Was that necessary?” I demanded.

  Claver threw up a cautionary hand. “Stop crying over them. They’ll get revives eventually. If we die now—we’re permed.”

  “Okay, but why did you pull the whole color-guard nonsense in the first place?”

  “Two reasons. First, it makes the entire situation more believable and keeps everyone’s focus on the pinnace with the Galactic inside. Secondly, they’re bound to have dropped a few weapons onto the deck on their way out.”

  “Ah,” I said, catching on. “That’s why you made sure we put on vac suits.”

  “Right, let’s go.”

  I followed the mad man I’d allied myself with back to the hangar deck, and we indeed found a few working snap-rifles. I stopped him as he went to pick one up.

  “Hold it,” I said, my pistol placed against his skull.

  “I shouldn’t have let you walk behind me,” he complained.

  “That’s right.”

  I took a snap-rifle, and we left the rest where they lay. We headed back toward the modules.

  “What’s next?” I asked him. “You can’t possibly hope to fly Minotaur back to Earth.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t think you can talk your way past everyone in Hegemony.”

  “I suppose you’re right. We’ll have to fix the situation here.”

  Frowning, I kept close to him. My newly acquired snap-rifle was loaded, and the safety was off. My finger hovered over the trigger. I thought this might well be the moment where Claver decided his “bodyguard” was more trouble than he was worth.

  We moved to a central console outside the stacked modules. I knew these containers were empty for the most part. Only four of them were occupied according to the boards. Three of them held the three units of troops that Germanic had stationed here. The rest were waiting to take the entire legion back home to Earth.

  “Uh-oh, a breach. Tap this console with your key, please.”

  I hesitated. I saw the blinking yellow box on the board. One of the modules had turned off the lock down. Right now, it was probably disgorging troops.

  Something had gone wrong. It could have been anything. Maybe the Primus had talked to the people back on the station. Or maybe they’d gotten a report from the men Claver had killed out in the hangar. Possibly the Imperator was back on the scene and had ordered them to arrest us.

  It didn’t matter what had gone wrong. Something had. The situation was unraveling.

  “After all this shit, you’re turning into
a wimp on me at the last minute?” Claver demanded. “You want to get us permed, McGill?”

  Hissing through my teeth with regret, I reached out and tapped the console.

  Claver’s hands flickered over the console. I didn’t know how to operate it, but I knew it was an alien piece of hardware: a control system that the key in my hands had unlocked.

  Three of the stacked modules went red. Then they vanished from the stack.

  “What…?” I demanded. “What did you do?”

  “I let them go. The troops have...disembarked.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “You jettisoned them? They’re your own men, Claver! Your fellow legionnaires! Those loyal men would die following your orders!”

  Old Silver shrugged, looking a tiny bit troubled. “You’re right,” he said, “they would die for a Germanica officer—they’re as good as dead right now, in fact, proving their loyalty once again. Look at it this way McGill, it was them or us. The only difference is they would have permed us. We couldn’t have kept this charade going much longer.”

  He was right, but I didn’t like it. “What are you going to do next?” I growled.

  “Next comes the tricky part. I’m going to solve everyone’s problems.”

  -28-

  Claver led me to the fire control center. On Minotaur, the control systems were oddly laid out. The bureaucracy of the Empire demanded it.

  Every species in the Empire had a monopoly on a given trade good. That trade good could be a service or a product. But within their local sphere of influence, such as Frontier 921, that particular product couldn’t be duplicated. Some goods and services weren’t available in an outlying province—and Frontier 921 was about as outlying as you could get. In that case, a world could trade for goods from outside their home province but at an increased cost.

  The Empire’s trade and legal systems worked, but they were often cumbersome. In effect, the system dictated that one planet could build ships—but they couldn’t fly them. Another planet provided the piloting service. In our province, the pilots were all Skrull. That wasn’t the end of it, however. The Skrull were our only locally licensed pilots on any interstellar vehicle, but they weren’t warriors of any kind. Even if they’d wanted to be, it would have been illegal for them to participate in actual hostilities. So therefore, even though Minotaur had weaponry, the crew that piloted the ship wasn’t allowed to operate that weaponry. To do so would have constituted a breach of Galactic Law. If the Nairbs, who were our local legal system experts—sort of like lawyers, accountants and bureaucrats all wrapped into one—determined the Law had been broken, they might penalize the Skrull homeworld. Penalties could be as small as a fine in Galactic Credits all the way up to and including annihilation of the offending species.