Randolph Lalonde - Spinward Fringe Broadcast 08 - Renegades

by Randolph Lalonde

  “Speaking of exploration,” Commander Anderson said. “Would any of you rather stay on Tamber and help out with Port Rush? That’s the other major effort the Rangers are undertaking.”

  “No, Sir,” Remmy said.

  “Seriously? You’re just giving us the option of not going aboard a suicide ship and staying here?” Elden said. “Well then, yeah.”

  “All right, Elden, you can go.”

  “See ya,” Elden said as he stood up and left, picking up his bag on the way.

  “Dorothy?” Commander Anderson asked.

  “I’d rather be on the Warlord, Sir. I grew up on long range haulers,” she replied.

  “Good. Elden’s replacement is waiting aboard the Triton, she’s having a new arm attached,” Commander Anderson said. “The assignment on the Warlord is part of a necessary shakeup for the Rangers. We have to start getting out there, and no ship is going further faster. I’m elevating you to Sargent, Remmy, and Dotty will be your second. Elden was going to be your third, but that’ll be Bell Dul. She was part of a Rangers team that answered an emergency call from the Triton last week. They were to rescue a Carthan official and his family when they found themselves trapped in a high rise that was taken by a major gang in the area. The team got them out, but Bell waved the rescue shuttle off when it was her turn for pickup because the gang was bringing some major anti-air firepower into the situation. By the time another team got to her position, well, you can see how close she came in the injury report. She’s a good fit for this team, probably better than Elden since he seems to have had enough of space for now.”

  “I’m surprised he dropped out. I’ve never known him to back down,” Dotty said. “He’s really very good.”

  “I realize that Dotty, thank you. I trust you’ll serve Remmy here well as his second, Junior Sargent.”

  “Absolutely, Sir,” Dorothy replied with an enthusiasm that surprised Remmy.

  “The rest of your unit consists of eleven Rangers. All of them fought for the Triton when she was under attack. They’re former slaves with real skills aboard spacecraft of all sizes and they’ve proven their loyalty to the Triton Fleet more than once. You’ll meet them aboard the Triton before you board the Warlord. The directions are in your briefing package. One last chance to opt-out for an assignment on Port Rush, speak now or hold your peace.” Commander Anderson waited a moment, long enough for Remmy to shrug his indication that his mind wouldn’t be changing. “Good,” Commander Anderson said. “Head over to the port and stand ready for a shuttle to the Triton.”

  “Aye, Sir.” With a spring in her step, Dorothy left the room, almost forgetting her main pack.

  “I’d like an extra minute, Remmy,” Commander Anderson said. He waited for the door to slide closed behind Dotty and stood up. He leaned against his desk, looking directly into Remmy’s eyes. “What do you think of Dorothy? Honestly, now, let’s have it out where you’re not being recorded.”

  “She’s all right, but Elden seems like a brain donor who survived the operation, Sir,” Remmy said, inwardly cringing at the sound of the words aloud.

  To his surprise, Commander Anderson laughed so hard he almost came off-balance. “A bit, maybe,” he said when he recovered. “Thankfully, we’ll be able to post Elden with a senior commander who can handle him, continue his training. Dorothy knows ships, and she’s a lighter touch, something you’ll need if you’ll be stationed on the Warlord. I think you’ll come to trust her judgement. She’s also dedicated; you set her a task and she’ll find a way. You two are a lot alike in that respect.”

  “Thank you, Sir. I’m sure this wasn’t her finest moment. She was probably nervous because we haven’t seen you this close since graduation day,” Remmy said.

  “Probably,” he replied. “So, any questions?”

  “Why the Warlord, Sir? The Carthans are going to see this as a handout from Haven Shore.”

  “The relationship between the Rangers and Haven Shore is already clear. We’ve been getting assistance in building our permanent outpost in trade for law enforcement and rescue services. The whole government is changing here, so who knows what our new deal with the Carthans will be.”

  Remmy didn’t have to acknowledge that Commander Anderson had answered his question better than he expected, and moved on to the next question without hesitation. “Why am I commanding this group? I’m in the youngest age group of the Rangers, how am I going to hold up on the Warlord?”

  “You’re commanding because you have the memory, strategic mind, and experience to lead this mission. It’s that simple. If anything, I think being in a position of command aboard that ship will make you an even better leader. The command crew on that ship are very good at what they do, even if they have a hothead or two.”

  “How does offering support for boarding missions, ship to ship assaults, and ground missions in enemy territory fit with the Ranger philosophy?” Remmy asked, relishing the opportunity to ask the leader of the organization whatever he liked.

  The question seemed to take Commander Anderson off guard, but he answered just the same. “The British Alliance is happy to hesitate in fighting the Order of Eden. The only sign that they’re against what’s happening is the construction of a sensor frontier in this sector. Jacob Valent and the Warlord crew have declared war, and my instincts tell me that the Triton Fleet is about to grow exponentially. If the Rangers aren’t involved in the early days of the first just war in a century, then I think we’re doing humanity a disservice on the whole. If we can’t help fight for sentientarianism on a large scale, our effectiveness on the smaller scale is lessened.”

  “If we can’t help save sentient species from the Order of Eden, then everything we do on Tamber isn’t worth anything,” Remmy said to make sure he understood. “And you want to beat the British Alliance to the punch on the assault.”

  “Exactly. It’s good that they’re here, but their hesitation shows a bad example, especially with the Carthans’ teeth getting pulled in this sector. What’s not widely known is that they don’t have the resources to send reinforcements from their capitol.”

  “The Carthans are out of steam,” Remmy said. “So if they get hit here again, that’s it. We’re on our own with the British.”

  “Exactly.”

  “All right, I’m getting the picture. What’s going on in Port Rush?” Remmy asked.

  “You don’t have to worry about that, Remmy, but to satisfy your curiosity, I’ll tell you that Ayan is leading a recruiting and sentientarian mission there, starting a new settlement.”

  “Okay, now I’m really looking forward to leaving on the Warlord,” Remmy said. “It’s a hot mess down there, and I’m not just talking about the radiation.”

  “I know, it’s going to be a challenge. Before you go, I have one order for you off the record,” Commander Anderson said. “I want you to watch for deserters, thieves, Order of Eden agents, or any other dodgy behaviour on the Warlord that could compromise the crew’s safety or integrity. They’ll be taking on a lot of new recruits this afternoon, and I doubt the screening process will be as vigilant as Captain Valent or his crew would like. I want you and your team to be another layer of protection while you’re serving aboard.”

  “So we serve as crew, and I watch for anything that makes my traitor-sense tingle,” Remmy Sands said. “I like it.”

  “Good, now get going.”

  “Aye, Sir,” Remmy said, standing up straight and turning towards the door.

  “Oh, and Remmy,” Commander Anderson said.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “If you ever doubt your position as leader, just remember your history under my command. You’ve seen more in a year of service and had to make more decisions under duress than most military officers have in their entire careers.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you for the assignment, I won’t let it go to my head,” Remmy replied. He strode out of the room, feigning confidence, but he was actually so dizzy from the experience of being handed a c
ommand that he walked down the hallway in the wrong direction for over a minute before turning around.

  CHAPTER 27

  War Wounds

  The galley of the Warlord was one of the first spaces to be finished. The British Alliance crews left the walls open for the first few months so they could use it as a fabrication space, but you couldn’t tell it was anything other than the mess hall when they were done. The room was hardened for combat like every part of the ship. The walls would make perfectly good armour plating for the outside, but more importantly, they could isolate that large room from damage or withstand punishment.

  The extensive services of the British shipwrights were expensive; it cost them favours and trips to more scrap yards than Minh-Chu could count, but the British crew never complained. They just stripped down, cut down, refurbished, and certified the materials then built according to Jake Valent’s plan. By the time the whole habitation area, bridge, airlocks, brig, weapon systems, embarking compartments, and a few other places were completed, the Warlord had quadrupled in mass. Even more importantly, the shipwrights had come to respect Jake’s design style. It was too bad they had to go, they still had many rooms to finish. Most of the cabins only had a single light, they were short on working lavatories, and the creature comforts they managed to finish were clean, but cheap. Hard mattresses and bad seat cushions had people kinked and irked, for a start.

  The ship was so close to being finished, Minh-Chu hoped they could find people to help Agameg, Finn, Jake, and Frost complete the job. Polished or not, the Warlord’s crew would be taking the ship out for another engagement, and soon.

  He couldn’t help thinking of Ashley, whom he’d left behind to sleep in their quarters aboard the Warlord while he wandered. The war would be hard on everyone, it was only beginning, and he didn’t want to see her in the middle. She wouldn’t be kept out though, and he would be showing her no respect by trying to tell her to stay behind the line.

  “They did a hell of a job,” Frost said before raising a glass.

  Minh-Chu didn’t see him at first. He was in the back corner of the galley, near a transparent section of hull. The ergranian steel distorted the view a little, but Minh-Chu could see the Irishman was watching the British Alliance Third Battle Group and Tamber beyond. The green, brown, and blue moon was half shrouded in darkness. Haven Shore was on the day side. They couldn’t see it from their vantage point, but it was about to begin nine days of night. The sister moon orbiting Kambis would eclipse the sun, then Tamber would pass behind Kambis for several more days.

  Minh-Chu made his way across the galley. It was large enough to seat fifty, and offered plenty of chair and table obstacles in the half-light. “I was just thinking the same thing. It’s almost finished.”

  “Looks like a new ship. Half his guts are still left out on the deck, but the Warlord runs, he can put up an awful hard fight. Warlord can do big damage, kill a lot of people.” He drained the rest of his glass and winced. “Get yourself a glass if you’re staying.”

  “Too early for an old-fashioned for me, thanks though,” Minh-Chu replied.

  Frost stretched out to a service table and retrieved a glass. “I gave the stuff up earlier tonight. Made my last toast with Moira and smashed the old bottle I bought a couple months ago. No more real alcohol.” He poured Minh-Chu a healthy helping of whatever he was drinking from an ornate, one and a half litre decanter with trees on the side. “This is grapefruit juice, has the most powerful taste I’ve ever had. Where’s Ash?”

  “Asleep. I got a few hours, but woke up as if someone flipped a switch. Steph?”

  “Sleeping sound. She’s too worried about me, I think. I got a few winks but couldn’t stay down.”

  Minh-Chu sniffed the yellow-red juice and found a refreshing citrus fragrance. He shrugged and downed a mouthful. The incredibly sour taste was so surprising that he narrowly stopped himself from spitting it out. “Oh, God, there has to be more to this than the flavour.”

  “It’s just fruit juice, one of the quick-grow crops they’re getting set to pump out on Tamber. Don’t like it?”

  Minh-Chu took another sip and enjoyed it much more the second time. “Now that I know what to expect, it’s pretty good. There’s no sour in the smell, I almost gave the hull a fine coating. Where’d you get it?”

  “Some produce grower sent a gift crate up for the captain. He doesn’t really go in for that stuff, so I thought I’d give this a try.”

  They sat watching the ships move past for several silent minutes before Frost asked, “Where are your people, Ronin?”

  The question surprised Minh-Chu, but it wasn’t a topic far from his mind. “I can’t say for sure. The last I heard my entire family was following my parents out to New Georgia on Lorander Long Range.”

  “Is that one of the old Lorander colonies?”

  “One of the first along the galactic verge.”

  “Right on the edge of the galactic span, must be an exciting place.”

  “They thought they were settling a new colony, but it turns out the terraforming was finished way before they got there. They ended up in an observation ranch, on the edge of a forest. I don’t think of my family enough, but I know my parents are all set there, loving the new life. I just hope everyone else made it too. The last of my folks started the trip as soon as Freeground reopened the ports.”

  “I heard nothing’s been heard from Freeground for a while,” Frost said. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

  “I try not to worry, we’re too far away to do anything about it,” Minh-Chu said.

  “But we’ll be getting closer. Closer to the Irish Union, too. We’re going to get their attention, lad. Drag these Brits into a fight whether they like it or not.”

  “I just hope we don’t have to do it with a crew of a dozen,” Minh-Chu said.

  “No worries there, Ronin,” Frost said as he refilled both their glasses. “Captain has ordered me to lead an armed team down to Port Rush. We’re recruiting, and if the Carthans try to interfere, we’ve got his leave to start shooting until they’re just a smear and slag. Got the White Queen’s word on that, too. Seems Ayan’s just as pissed about how little progress our military’s made as I am. I’m going to have to apologize to her.”

  “I don’t think anyone expects much from you right now, Shamus,” Minh-Chu said.

  “I’ll do something to make it right. No matter how much time passes between Captain and that woman, he’d still raze heaven and walk from one end of hell to the other to see her safe, and he had no words for me about what I did.”

  “Apologize to her well enough, and it’ll count for him,” Minh-Chu said. “I’m starting to think you know him better than I do.”

  “Can’t say that’s true. You’ve got his ear more than anyone on this ship,” Frost said. “Even Stephanie, who spent years aboard to get where she is now. I can’t help but wonder just the same, are you sure you want to go to war with Ash? Might be better if you follow that family of yours out to the rim.”

  Minh-Chu was stunned at the suggestion. He rarely questioned his place on the Warlord, or what he was doing, but what Frost was saying made sense when he considered Ashley.

  “Ah, I hit something. Sorry, lad,” Frost said, reading the silence.

  “I’ve questioned whether Ashley should be aboard,” Minh-Chu said. “But she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, especially since her friends could be in trouble in your home sector.”

  “I can see that, and what about you?” Frost asked. “I’ll never doubt your resolve, but I’ve also wondered where it comes from.”

  “I made landfall on Pandem after the virus hit,” Minh-Chu said. “I think about it almost every day. Life seems more precious when you see how suddenly it can end. On Pandem, people died in terror, fighting, hiding, running – it didn’t matter. In just a few weeks, it ended for millions.” He couldn’t help but recognize that Frost’s expression darkened as he spoke, and he reached a reassuring hand out to his friend’s should
er. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear this right now.”

  “No, I do.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “It pushes me to get through this angry knot in my gut. Winning war is about thinking, planning, that’s what I’ve learned from these last few months skulking around from one port to another. I’ve got to get over being angry, or get so angry I’m used to it, like Captain.”

  Minh-Chu didn’t realize he reacted to Frost’s statement, but the man noticed something, because he looked at him with a little amusement. “You never realized? Valent is the angriest man I’ve ever known, it’s always just under the surface. He doesn’t show it to people he loves, or people who he knows can’t handle it, but there’s a part of him that comes out on special occasions, I’ve seen it before. It gets him through the rock when he’s pressed against a hard place, and sometimes it gets him killing.”

  Minh-Chu could recall a couple of instances when he was with Jonas Valent, on a battlefield, on the First Light. There were times when he could be cold, even remorseless, but Minh-Chu hadn’t seen much of it in Jacob. He could be quiet, seemingly in a mood dark enough to be brooding, but he hadn’t seen the angry man Frost was describing.

  “Maybe I do know him better,” Frost said. “We’ll see.” He stood up and finished his glass. “Going to try and get a couple more hours’ sleep now, I’m recruiting tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Only five hours later Minh-Chu found himself standing behind Shamus Frost as he stood atop a half-crushed starfighter in the middle of Port Rush rubble. He was joined by Moira, Stephanie, Oz, Alice, and a host of Rangers. They were all in full armour, ready for anything, and behind their semicircle of eighty-four hovered the Clever Dream. Its gleaming black hull menaced any who would threaten the crowd.

  “The British Alliance have said that they are not at war, but don’t let their hesitation fool you, war is coming.” Frost shouted even though his voice was amplified across local signals and through the air across the destitution of Port Rush. He wore the heaviest of harsh environment boarding armour, horizontal bands of reactive metal were built onto layers of synthetic muscle, containment, survival, and shielding systems. A plasma ripper made to cut through heavy hull plating was built onto the left arm, adding a savage aspect to the appearance of the scratched black suit. “They have not shown their opposition by using force. They forge treaties, say they are constructing a frontier so we are safe from bombardment, and gather around us. They squander their chance to strike. There is fighting to be done!” Frost shouted with the purest conviction Minh-Chu had ever seen. Hundreds of weary, worn, and needy were coming out from ramshackle shelters to add to the gathering of onlookers. “I stand amongst captains who have seen the crimes the Order and Regent Galactic have committed against us. Billions were killed and as many forced into living by their rules. We have all lost something, someone, and we need to push back. We do not strike at the enemy for money, we strike because they’ll have us in chains or graves if we don’t.” The ferocity of Frost’s speaking shook him and the creaky metal plate beneath his feet. Only a few turned away from him as he told them there was no money to be had. These people were desperate, living in a shantytown that was growing by the day as people were pushed out of the ruined city of Port Rush into the ravaged port of the same name, or dropped there as the Carthans tried to clear territories in the solar system. There were no resources to live on in Port Rush except for what they could salvage; even the merchants had stopped visiting.