by Terry Mixon
“And he shouldn’t have done anything else. Life is more important than limbs. I have more of a chance than if he hadn’t done what he could.
“You told me you had a prisoner right before the duel. Who is she and what does she know?”
“First, let me say that I’ve never seen anything like that duel. I’m a gun girl myself. I’ve never understood the fetish some people have with mono-blades. They give me the creeps.
“Your fight with that bastard was amazing. I’ve reviewed my helmet-cam video in slow motion and you both were so skilled. Masters of the blade. The fight is going to be the talk of the system before long.”
He hadn’t considered the possibility anyone had recorded it. “I’d like a copy of that. It might prove useful when I’m ready to start reviewing what happened. Any chance we can keep that close to the vest?”
Her lips quirked into a smile. “Mine? Sure. Unfortunately, I’m wasn’t the only one watching. I’m sure that someone has sent a copy off station by now. That cat is out of the bag for sure.”
Brad grunted. Maybe that wasn’t terrible. Word was going to get out that he had a hard-on for the Terror. Some notoriety might open a few doors during the process of finding the Cadre base and rescuing Michelle.
“What can you tell me about your prisoner? Was she Cadre? Could we turn her and get details on Cadre operations?”
“I doubt it. Sadly, she’s one of ours. A Cadre contact provided her with a big payday to betray us.”
The woman’s words dashed Brad’s hope that the mole knew where the Cadre’s base was. Well, maybe she knew something else that would lead him to the Terror. Only time would tell.
Brad stood and found his footing more stable than earlier. The stim had been exactly the wrong thing for him to take. Lesson learned.
Shelly had found him a sling for his dead arm, so his hand wasn’t flopping around anymore when he moved. That was good. He wanted to make the best impression he could with Commodore Wilson. The man could be a boon to Brad if he played his cards right.
“I suppose we’d best be off, then,” he said.
He picked up his weapons belt from the shelf and realized he was going to have a lot of reconfiguring to do with only one functioning arm.
“Let me see if I can help with that,” Simon said. “We have two working arms between us. I had to have someone help me change clothes, which was mortifying. I’ll recover enough to use my arm soon, though. I can hardly imagine having to work with one hand for months.”
“Or forever,” Brad said fatalistically. “The nerves might be beyond regeneration.”
The female security officer gave him a level stare. “Let me be so bold as to give you some advice, Commodore. Never focus on the lemons life hands you. Make lemonade.”
He laughed in spite of himself. “I’m not precisely sure what that has to do with my particular situation, but I get your general meaning. Also, I think we can dispense with my rank. We’ve fought together. Call me Brad.”
She smiled a little. “Lisa. Come on. We have just enough time to make it over to the dock where the Commodore’s shuttle will dock.”
When they stepped into the corridor, Brad found he hadn’t been alone. Trista Doary was standing guard outside sickbay in light armor with a full loadout of weapons.
“Trista,” he said, somewhat bemused. “Shouldn’t you be getting some rest?”
The short woman shook her head. “I can rest when we have more people. Someone needs to keep an eye out for pirates we missed.”
He felt his eyebrows rise. “I thought they all ran off. Did we miss some?” The last question was directed at Lisa Simon.
The tall security chief shrugged. “Maybe. We won’t know until we search the station completely. Fleet is sending Marines to help with that, but it’s going to take time to be sure. Even then, I suppose it’s possible that we still have people aboard that the Cadre planted.
“She’s right to be cautious, though. Word arrived that the Terror has already put a price on your head. Ten million credits might just convince any number of people to come looking for you. Even here on your own ship.
“I put four people I trust implicitly on guard duty at the Blackhawk side of the airlock, but even one of them might be tempted. Hence the larger number of guards.”
She was right, Brad decided. They only had one combat-capable fighter on hand. If someone came after him, he probably wouldn’t be able to effectively defend himself. He’d have to take steps to fix that deficiency as soon as possible.
“I suppose we’d best be on our way,” he said with a sigh. “Fleet Commodores don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“No commodore does,” Trista said with a smile. “I should know.”
Sadly, Brad found himself slowing by the time they made it to the shuttle dock. The fight had really taken it out on him. He hoped the Terror felt worse.
Two Confederation Marines in full battle rattle stood guard at the shuttle hatch, but they were obviously expecting them. As a sign of how unsettled things were, the men didn’t even demand their weapons.
Inside, a Fleet lieutenant commander stood waiting. He was tall, heavily muscled, and wearing his blond hair in a buzz cut. He extended his hand to Brad and then Simon.
“Commodore Madrid, Chief Simon. My name is Lieutenant Commander Evan Pallas. Allow me to extend Commodore Wilson’s compliments and escort you back to Goliath. In deference to the unusual circumstances, he’s chosen to waive the requirement that you surrender your weapons, but please do us the courtesy of keeping them where they belong.”
“Right now, I doubt I could best a pair of Junior Mars Scouts,” Brad admitted. “Thank you, though.”
The flight to the Fleet cruiser was mercifully brief. No one was waiting for them, but Pallas saw them directly to his commanding officer’s office.
Commodore Wilson was a short man of Asian descent. His appearance was completely at odds with his surname. Brad wondered what his story was.
“Commodore Madrid, Chief Simon, please sit. I apologize for asking you to come meet me, particularly when you’ve both been injured. If I might ask, could your subordinate wait in the outer office? My officer will see to her needs.”
“Certainly, Commodore,” Brad said. “Trista, please wait outside.”
The mercenary inclined her head, exited, and closed the hatch behind her without a word.
Once everyone was settled, Wilson took the lead. “I’m sure you both are aware of how close Blackhawk Station came to capture. If it had—particularly with its weapons intact—my battle group would not have been able to dislodge the Cadre forces.
“That said, there’s no way Fleet would’ve allowed this to stand. As formidable as your weapons platforms are, Chief Simon, we would’ve retaken the station. Eventually. That begs the question, why did they attack at all? What were they really after?”
The security officer shrugged. “They didn’t exactly hand out their itinerary. I’m in the dark about what they hoped to accomplish. Based on the amount of force they brought and the fact that the Terror was here in person, it must’ve been important.”
Brad nodded his agreement. “There’s very little here to interest the Cadre, but I have a possibility. We encountered some people near Jupiter that could conceivably be connected to the attack.”
He gave them the short version of the fight with the commandos on the automated freighter.
“That is intriguing,” the Fleet officer said with a frown, “but I’m not sure I follow. What’s the connection, precisely?”
“He3,” Brad said. “Or, more specifically, the ability to refine it. If they’d destroyed the JoveCorp refinery in that attack, it would have been an inconvenience to Fleet. If they took out SaturCorp’s refinery too, that would’ve been a crippling blow.”
“That’s concerning,” the commodore admitted, “but I’m not sure I agree about the connection. Yes, Fleet is one of the major consumers of He3 for our large ships, but even eliminating Ju
piter and Saturn as sources, we can get what we need elsewhere.
“We don’t advertise, but I know Fleet has a strategic reserve somewhere. What would the Cadre hope to gain from something like this, other than pissing us off even more?”
“I’m not sure,” Brad said with a shrug. “As you said, this is only a hypothesis based on partial information. All I know for sure is that the Cadre sure seems interested in He3.”
“If they wanted to destroy our refining capacity, why didn’t they destroy Blackhawk Station on the way out?” Simon asked. “They had us dead to rights if they wanted. Everdark, why board us at all? There must be something else.”
“Do you have a clear understanding of what they did while they were aboard?” Brad asked. “I assure you: the Cadre might be subtle but their pirate minions aren’t. If they had other objectives, you’d know.”
“The data is still coming in. They caused widespread damage and killed far too many people for us to be able to easily sort things out. It will take days to see things clearly. Maybe weeks.”
Commodore Wilson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m inclined to believe they had a different mission in mind. The sheer number of ships involved in the attack and the trained attack forces mean something too.”
“This was a high-priority mission,” Brad agreed. “I’ve never understood how they support themselves. How do they support so many people? How do they get them in the first place? Where does the loot go?”
“All excellent questions,” Commodore Wilson said with a sour face. “Ones that Fleet Intelligence and the Commonwealth Investigative Agency have been unable to answer since the Cadre started operations.”
The man sighed. “I’m afraid we’re going to remain clueless today, as well.”
He turned to Simon. “I’m given to understand you captured someone in their employ.”
The lieutenant nodded. “She was one of our security people, dammit. They gave her great gobs of money to hack our systems. Successfully, I might add. That’s a black mark that we won’t be erasing anytime soon.
“We’ve been questioning her since we captured her. She’s terrified now. Too bad her greed got the better of her common sense. She also claims she had no idea what they would do when they got here.”
“Anyone that even pretends to listen to the news knows how the Cadre operates,” Brad said dismissively. “She’s lying. Either to you or to herself.”
“Probably both. We might be able to trace where they paid her from, but I have my doubts. The Cadre covers its tracks when it comes to their finances. Just like the rest.”
“I’ll want her,” Wilson said grimly. “I hope she likes being hot. The mines on Mercury will be her eventual destination.”
“You can have her,” Wilson said. “I’m concerned about her safety. Her actions killed a lot of her former comrades. Accidents happen.”
“Then we’d best expedite her transfer. I’ll have Commander Pallas accompany you back to Blackhawk with a brace of Marines right now.”
He returned his gaze to Brad. “You, on the other hand, have an appointment with my chief medical officer. He’s coming back for additional supplies to assist on Blackhawk, and I want him to take a look at your arm.
“I saw that fight, by the way. Someone on Blackhawk sent it on wide beam. Not just to us but to Io. It’ll be everywhere before you leave Saturn, I’m afraid. Might I say your skill is only equaled by your foolishness? Challenging the Terror to a duel was a risky, ill-advised thing to do.”
“I didn’t have a lot of choice,” Brad said with a halfhearted shrug. “If we didn’t hold them, I’d still have died. And after all he’s taken from me, I will kill him.”
The Fleet officer nodded. “You lost a lot of your fighting force today. And that woman from the diver.”
“How did you know that?” Brad asked with a frown.
“The transmissions were in the clear. We heard both sides. I saw her and how you reacted to the Terror having her. He’s put you in a terrible predicament.”
Brad smiled coldly. “He has to come into the range of my blade to take my head. I’ll bet on myself when that time comes.”
“I’ll be rooting for you, Commodore Madrid. I think we all will be.”
Chapter Fourteen
It only took a few minutes for Goliath’s doctor to declare that Brad’s injury was beyond his help. Perhaps beyond anyone’s help. Not exactly what Brad wanted to hear, but not too surprising, either.
Brad and Trista caught a ride back to Blackhawk on the doctor’s shuttle. He was sorely tempted to return to Heart and rest, but the anger and restlessness inside him demanded he keep working on what had brought the Terror to this outpost.
The four Blackhawk Security troopers were waiting for them when they landed. Someone on Goliath must’ve called ahead to let them know they were coming.
Amusingly, Trista stayed close by his side, watching the security guards while they watched everyone else.
The group passed Commander Pallas and his prisoner on the way to Security Central. The cowed woman in shackles seemed to need her Marine guards more to protect her from the people hurling threats and insults than to keep her from doing anything nefarious.
The officer nodded and they were gone.
“It’s hard to believe that little thing made all this possible,” Trista said. “She doesn’t look any more dangerous than a child.”
“Danger comes in many forms,” Brad said with a shake of his head. “So does evil. That woman killed people she knew just as surely as if she’d put a gun to their heads. All for money.”
“What are we going to do now, boss? Head back to Io?”
“Very shortly, yes. As sad as it is for me to say, we need to recruit new people. Not just for the new ship but for Heart. It looks as if you and Saburo will be training up entirely new squads.”
“With our reputation, that shouldn’t be a problem,” she said, scanning around them, probably to be sure the station guards didn’t miss anything. “The Vikings will attract a lot of interest from the top talent.”
That was true. Placement in a platinum-rated mercenary company ensured the best in contracts, pay, and equipment. On the downside, he’d painted a target on his people’s backs. The Terror’s bounty would bring scum out of the woodwork.
“We’ll manage,” he said. “I’ve had Shelly collecting resumes from people interested in joining because of the new ship. Sara Kernsky, the Mercenary Guild factor on Ganymede, has been sending them our way too. Sara’s got a good eye, so I’d imagine we’ll be back up to full strength within a few days of docking.
“That means you get to organize your new squad from the ground up. Any ideas on how you’ll do that?”
She raised one shoulder in a shrug. “Pretty much like Saburo did. It’s a good structure and I know it like the back of my hand. You should be asking how he’ll organize the new ship. He’ll have four times as many people under his command.”
That was true, too. The jump from eight troops to thirty was going to require some changes to the loose structure Saburo had favored before. And it would mean changes to what Trista did, too.
“Your people are going to have to interface seamlessly with his,” he warned. “To the point of plugging your squad in for one of his. Whatever structure he comes up with, you need to mimic it enough to be a part of the whole in combined operations.”
She considered that for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll talk with him on the way back to Io. I’m sure he’ll have a plan by the time we get there.”
“One other thing you both need to keep in mind,” he warned. “As this fiasco proved, we never know when we’ll meet our end. You need to be ready to fill his shoes if something goes bad. And one of your people needs to be able to do the same for you.”
Trista sighed. “I know. We’ll manage. Until now, that wasn’t a problem. You know the same is true for you. You almost died today. Who steps in if you go? Marshal died first, so your designated replacemen
t is gone. If you’d lost, the Vikings would’ve been headless.”
The reminder of his dead friend, and Michelle’s uncertain fate, soured his mood even further, but Trista was right. Having an executive officer was only a good start. He needed to fully populate the chain of command.
“Good point. I’ll have my own homework to do while recuperating.”
When they arrived at Central, their guards stepped into a break room with Trista, while the young man Brad had dealt with the first time showed him in to see Simon without any of the attitude he’d previously shown. He looked haunted now.
Chief Simon was sitting at her desk, looking at something on her console. She glanced up at his entrance. “Good timing. I think I found something. Park it while I get us some coffee.”
“No need,” Brad said as he sat with more than a hint of relief. “I’m just happy to be off my feet. This has been one shitstorm of a day.”
“I’m getting some for myself,” she said. “It’s on the burner back here, so it’s no trouble making two. Chief Raine had a stash of the good stuff.”
The last came with a sad expression.
“He’d have wanted you to enjoy it,” Brad observed. “Particularly today. What happens to him? Did he have any family?”
She shook her head as she poured some excellent-smelling coffee into two chipped mugs. He held up two fingers when she gestured to the sugar and shook his head at the creamer.
“He was a bachelor,” she said as she handed him his coffee. “We’ll have a ceremony in the next few days and send him out to float in the ring. That was his preference. Personally, I’d have let them drop me into the atmosphere to burn up.”
The coffee tasted even better than it smelled. He’d have to find out what kind it was and get some for Heart. And the new ship, of course.
“What did you find?” he asked after a moment.
“The pirates came onto the station at several points. Almost all of them moved to secure critical infrastructure like Security Central, Central Power, and life support. But not all.
