Oath of Vengeance

by Terry Mixon

  The same was true of Blackhawk Security. It was a company station. They didn’t deal with killers like this. He’d have to get the Vikings there as quickly as possible and do it himself.

  Of course, he could call Fleet and let them know, but then he wouldn’t complete his contract. He suspected the Senator would pay him anyway, but he didn’t know what ships Fleet had in the area.

  He knew his own people, though. He trusted them more in this kind of situation.

  Odds were that Blackhawk was a transfer location in any case. If Heart could get there fast enough, he could catch them in transit and free the girl. If he counted on Fleet, they might miss the departure and lose the girl for good.

  That was unacceptable.

  Decision made, he tapped his console and called Heart. Shelly answered immediately.

  “I’m on my way,” he said. “We’ve found her.”

  Chapter Six

  Brad’s thought on first seeing Blackhawk Station several years earlier was that it looked crude and unfinished. The intervening time hadn’t improved matters.

  He wondered if Michelle was still somewhere on it, or had she already taken her dive ship down to the gas giant?

  As tempted as he was to indulge himself in considering that, he forced his mind back to the task at hand. He could see about a surprise visit after they saved Josephine Barnes.

  Blackhawk Station was a single sphere, sparkling with scattered lights, forming the center of an immense set of girders. Those served to link the docking ports, storage tanks, and fueling stations.

  Unlike the Io Yards, the girders on Blackhawk were an open skeleton. Tiny personnel pods gleamed in the dim light reflected off Saturn, flitting between the central core and the assorted auxiliary platforms through the open construction.

  As Heart’s passive scanners began to trawl information from those platforms, Brad noted thirty of them were forts. He’d spotted them on previous trips but gave them more of his attention this time around.

  Each outgunned Heart of Vengeance twice over. Combined, they had enough firepower to fight off a cruiser squadron. Out here where the Cadre was a real threat, that kind of protection was mandatory. Fleet was a long way off if trouble came calling.

  He noted that the platforms were tracking Heart. All of them. Talk about overkill.

  “Paranoid buggers, aren’t they?” he observed dryly.

  “Very,” Shelly snorted. “Their local space control seems to be running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads chopped off—they can’t figure out what to do with a warship, even one our size. And we’ve been here before. I can only imagine what they’d do for an unknown ship.”

  “Flash them a copy of Senator Barnes’s authorization and we’ll see what they make of it.”

  One of the things Barnes had given Brad was a blanket authorization stating they were acting under his authority. Mercs rarely saw something like that. Contracts normally covered authorization for lethal force and such, but rarely a complete authorization.

  A minute or so after transmitting the authorization, Shelly gave Brad the expected thumbs-up. “They’re letting us in. Bay A6.”

  “John?”

  “On it.” A moment later, he whistled. “Sweet. They’ve put us on the core itself.”

  “Take us in. Shelly, as soon as we dock, I want you to jack us into the computer net. We need to find these bastards.”

  “I had a thought about that,” Jason said hesitantly.

  “Oh?” Brad inquired, turning to face his second officer. “Tell me more.”

  “Well, you’re talking about hacking into their security files, right? Why don’t we just use the authorization the Senator gave us and ask Blackhawk Security for the data we need?”

  Brad stared at Jason for a moment and then laughed. “I’m so used to doing this the hard way that it didn’t even occur to me to be aboveboard. Never mind, Shelly. I think I’m going to be paying their security chief a visit.”

  The front office for Blackhawk Security Central consisted of a tiny room with one desk and a young man in body armor.

  While the body armor suggested a reasonably high level of preparedness on the security trooper’s part, the fact that his mono-blade was being used as a paperweight and his assault shotgun was leaned against the far wall suggested otherwise.

  Brad finished his quick survey of the room and stepped up to the desk. Marshal stayed back a few steps.

  “I’m here to see your boss,” he told the trooper.

  The young man looked up at him disinterestedly. “Chief Raine is busy. He might be able to fit you in. Tomorrow.”

  “Since you have no idea who I am or why I’m here, maybe you’d best double-check. It’s important and I’m going to stay right here until he can fit me in.”

  The trooper sighed. “Names?”

  “Commodore Madrid of Heart of Vengeance. This is my executive officer, Commander John Marshal.”

  “Business?” the trooper asked, clearly stalling for time.

  “Is with the chief,” Brad said bluntly. “Now, are you going to call him or not?”

  The trooper started to snarl something but then thought better of it and picked up a headset. He murmured into the mic and listened to the response. With a scowl, he removed the headset.

  “He’ll see you. First door on the right.”

  Brad nodded and then forgot the man. He led the way down the hall and into the indicated room.

  Chief Raine was one of those rarest of physical types among spacers: a bulky man. Where most spacers tended towards tall and wiry, the chief couldn’t have been much over a hundred and fifty centimeters tall and was almost as broad across the shoulders.

  Like the trooper outside, he wore light body armor. Unlike the boy, his blade was belted to his waist and his shotgun leaned against his desk, out of the way but easily within reach.

  “What the fuck do you want?” he said, his calm tone at odds with his swearing.

  “Your help,” Brad replied with a small smile.

  “And tell me, ‘Commodore’ Madrid, just why I should be helping a two-for-a-penny ragtag merc like yourself.”

  Brad calmly stepped across the room and faced the chief across his desk.

  “Three reasons, Mr. Raine,” he said, intentionally omitting the man’s title. “Firstly, I’m a platinum-rated officer with the Mercenary Guild and a holder of the Commonwealth Black Star. I’m hardly a ‘two-for-a-penny ragtag merc.’”

  The chief’s eyes widened in surprise. The Black Star was one of the few decorations Fleet awarded nonmilitary personnel—and it was the highest. Varieties of stars could be earned for everything from saving lives to capturing criminals, but the Black Star was awarded solely to people responsible for saving either a Fleet warship or at least a thousand lives in a single incident.

  What Brad rarely bothered to mention was that he actually held two Black Stars—one for each reason it could be given.

  “Secondly,” he continued, “the life of a kidnapped woman is riding on the line. Someone valuable to an important man.

  “Third, well. Read this.”

  He handed a pad, containing a copy of Senator Barnes’s authorization, to Raine.

  The man scanned it several times. When he finally laid the pad down, most of his cold hostility seemed to have faded.

  “I see, Commodore Madrid.” This time, the title lacked the heavy irony he’d originally used. “What exactly do you want?”

  “Check the other file on the pad.”

  Raine did so and looked at the picture. “Who is this?”

  “Josephine Barnes. The man with her is presumably one of her kidnappers, as he was certainly the man who escorted her aboard the liner from Io Yards. I need to know who he is, if they got off the liner, and where they are now.”

  “I believe I begin to understand your authorization. I’ll see what my people can do.”

  “Quickly, Chief Raine. I have no idea what her kidnappers’ objectives are, and
I don’t want to leave her in their hands one moment longer than I have to.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Raine said grimly. “I promise you that.”

  Barely an hour later, Raine contacted Brad aboard Heart.

  “We’ve got them,” he said bluntly as soon as his image came up on the main screen. “The man was listed on the liner’s passenger manifest as Brian Abernathy. He got off with Ms. Barnes and four other people we’re still identifying. That’s probably less important, as we have a pretty good idea where they went.”

  The security chief grinned. “He obviously thought one pseudonym was enough, because a man using the same name rented one of the warehouse platforms.”

  “Which one?”

  Raine reeled off a number, which Brad made note of. “I think I have a slight surprise for Mr. Abernathy.”

  “Wait,” Raine told him. “He has a ship docked there. I don’t know if it’s armed, but given the situation, I wouldn’t bet against it. Also, you’ll need my people to get onto the platform.”

  “Unfortunately, Chief, your first point invalidates your second,” Brad said gently. “If I take Heart in, I can disable the ship and board the platform—Heart’s stealth abilities might surprise you. However, if your people come along, the extra ships would draw attention.”

  Raine grimaced. “I don’t like it, but you have a point. You still need one of my people to override the lockouts on the airlocks.”

  Brad was tempted to argue, but he did need the codes. Otherwise, they’d have to come in hot, and that posed a serious risk to Josephine Barnes.

  “Whoever you’re sending has twenty minutes to get aboard my ship or I leave without him.”

  “He’ll be there in ten,” Raine promised.

  Nine minutes later, one of Saburo’s troopers called up to the bridge. “We’ve got a security officer here, boss. Says his name is Lieutenant Champion.”

  “Have you checked with Raine?” Brad asked.

  “Of course. His ID checks out.”

  “Send him up and clear the lock.”

  He turned his attention to Marshal. “Go.”

  “Undocking now.”

  The ship shuddered slightly as it undocked.

  “We’re maneuvering,” Marshal said. “And we’re clear.”

  “All right, Jason,” Brad told his tactical officer. “Make us invisible.”

  Jason grinned and hit a key on his computer.

  The ship was now spreading its electronic and heat signature over nearly ten times its own volume. By doing so, the signature was reduced below minimum detection values on most scanners.

  “Done.”

  “Get us to the target platform, John.”

  An armored security officer entered the bridge with two of Saburo’s men at his heels. “Lieutenant Leo Champion, Blackhawk Security, Commodore.”

  “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. We’ve got about ten minutes before anything exciting happens. Take a seat.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the officer replied before proceeding to carefully fit his lanky form into a spare acceleration couch.

  Brad turned back to Jason. “We should be clear of the core. Can you get me a passive scan of the ship?”

  For a few moments, silence reigned on Heart’s bridge as Jason played with his console. “Looks like a small tramp freighter. The kind that normally operates in the Belt. I’m not seeing any heavy weaponry, but I can’t be sure unless I go active.”

  “Can you disable his engines without exposing the crew decks to vacuum?”

  Jason regarded his console for a moment, then nodded. “Probably, but I’d rather get much closer to be absolutely sure.”

  “Lock in the mass driver, but stand by for my order.”

  He turned to Marshal. “What’s our ETA, John?”

  “Five minutes at this speed,” the pilot told him without turning his head. Marshal had locked his hands onto the joystick primary controller and was carefully guiding the ship through the girder work of the station.

  Brad glanced over at Champion and the troopers who’d escorted him up. All were in full body armor.

  “I need to get into my armor. Give me four minutes.”

  He crossed to the tiny office next to the bridge. Once inside, getting his armor on was quick and simple, even in the claustrophobic space. He made it back onto the bridge in three minutes with his helmet under his arm.

  “Current ETA?” he asked, standing beside his chair.

  “Ninety seconds,” Marshal said.

  Brad regarded the screen for a moment. “Lieutenant Champion, join Major Saburo and his men in the boarding bay and stand by to transmit your codes, please. I’ll be with you momentarily.”

  Champion nodded and scooted out of the bridge, his escorts right behind him.

  “All right, Jason,” Brad said quietly. “Activate your fire plan at thirty seconds from boarding. Do your best not to hull the crew spaces, but stop that ship.”

  Not waiting for a response, Brad strode out of the bridge and headed for the boarding bay. It was time to save a young woman’s life.

  Chapter Seven

  Brad reached the boarding bay in good time. Lieutenant Champion had joined Saburo and the rest of Heart’s squad in the chamber, which was effectively a giant airlock.

  Saburo saw him coming and gave him a thumbs-up gesture, signifying that the squad was ready to move.

  Brad activated his com. “All right, Jason, how are we sitting?”

  “The transport is dead in the water,” Jason reported, his voice pleased. “Her drives have a nice hole through the middle of the pulse chambers. We’re swinging in on the main airlock and should be docking about…now.”

  Heart jolted a bit as she docked.

  “All right, Lieutenant Champion,” Brad said. “Get us in.”

  The security officer typed a series of commands into the computer on his forearm. A moment later, he looked up and nodded. “Done.”

  “We’re going in, Jason,” Brad said. “Be ready if we come back in a hurry. All right, folks, let’s roll.”

  A command from Brad’s computer started the boarding bay door opening. Simultaneously, the airlock on the other side opened as well.

  Saburo gestured his men forward, and three of them, assault shotguns at the ready, darted into the lock. Moments later, one of them waved the all-clear.

  Brad led the rest of the squad and Champion forward. The security officer looked around, checking that everyone was in, then typed another series of commands into his wrist-comp.

  “Be ready,” Brad ordered as the airlock began to slowly cycle.

  As if to prove his words, a shotgun fired as the door passed the halfway point, blasting flechettes into the enclosed space. Fortunately, the shooter hadn’t taken the time to aim, and the razor-edged darts hit an empty wall.

  Brad felt several of the darts bounce off his back armor as he lunged forward. The masked man tried to bring his shotgun to bear, but Brad met it with his now-activated mono-blade in mid-swing.

  The end of the barrel and part of the action went flying into the depths of the platform as a blast of flechettes from one of Heart’s troopers nailed the kidnapper in the chest.

  From the ensuing mess, Brad judged the man had been completely unarmored.

  He glanced around the loading bay they found themselves in, and then turned to his squad.

  “Saburo, take four men and secure the transport. If you find Ms. Barnes or any evidence that she’s aboard, let me know.”

  Saburo gestured at the mercenary troopers. “James, Duncan, Ciro, and Rafi, with me. Good luck, Commodore.

  “Same to you.” Brad turned to the remaining three troopers and Champion. “That leaves the platform for us. Lieutenant, as you have the security codes, lead the way.”

  The security trooper nodded, pulled up a map, and headed off at a run. Brad and the rest of the mercenaries did their best to keep up.

  They only made it a few corridors from the lock before a grenade came bo
uncing around the corner. Brad’s respect for Blackhawk Security’s training went up a notch as Champion immediately lunged forward with his mono-blade and neatly sliced the weapon in half.

  As the halves rolled apart, a trio of men with blades and pistols out came around the corner. Champion jerked his blade into place to stop the first series of attacks as Brad and the troopers rushed forward to help.

  One of the men shot the security officer in the stomach, sending him crumpling to the deck.

  Brad’s flashing mono-blade removed the man’s arm and sliced deep into his chest just a moment too late. As the man stumbled back, coughing blood, Brad spun to face the other two just as his people took them both out with shotgun blasts.

  He checked Champion, but it was too late. He was already dead.

  Cursing, Brad raised his wrist-comp to his face. “Saburo, report.”

  “We’ve secured the tube to the transport,” the Major replied. “I’m leaving two men here and moving in. You?”

  “Champion is dead,” Brad told him flatly. “Proceed as planned. Madrid out.”

  “Let’s finish this,” he told the troopers coldly.

  The three led the way down the corridor, shotguns leveled and sweeping back and forth. When they reached a corner, one of them stepped forward, extending his weapon around the bend.

  “Clear,” the man said.

  There was a security door around the corner and at the end of the short corridor. Brad brought up the map of the platform again and nodded to himself. This was the most likely location for the kidnapper and his victim.

  Brad examined the door as the troopers covered him. By the lights on its control panel, it was locked. That was going to complicate things now that Champion was gone, but they’d brought the tools to get in. It would just take time.

  To his surprise, the door chose that moment to slide open.