by Kal Spriggs
***
Eldorado, Garris Major System
Colonial Republic
May 3rd, 2403
Lauren Kelly stepped down off the loading ramp and took a deep breath of fresh air. She coughed it out almost immediately as the acrid fumes of the spaceport cut into the back of her throat. Her companion continued down the ramp. His long, panther-like stride took him to where a customs agent waited. Lauren watched the two speak briefly. She didn’t see when Mason slipped the agent a bribe, but a moment later the other man left. “How much did that cost us?” She asked.
Mason turned. “More than I'd like. I guess there's some kind of revolution going on in the system. We aren't carrying a prohibited cargo, but I didn’t want him looking at our navigation computer and wondering what we have to do with what’s going on in Faraday.”
“Do you think they’ve heard anything here yet?” Lauren asked. She wasn't terribly surprised about some kind of revolt here. More than half the systems in the Colonial Republic had insurrections or uprisings. Most of those were from fractured ethnic or political lines, though some were ostensibly about freedom.
“About your Baron Lucius?” Mason smirked, even as his eyes swept the dingy landing pad for eavesdroppers. “Probably about his defeat of the Chxor at Faraday. Definitely rumors about the Dreyfus Fleet.” He stepped forward and took her duffel off her shoulder. He spoke the next part in a low tone, “Hopefully they’ve heard nothing about Mason McGann’s involvement.”
Lauren nodded, oddly relieved that she, at least, had no personal infamy to worry about She had possessed somewhat of a reputation back at Faraday for her actions during a mutiny aboard a Chxor ship and later during a ground attack against a planetary defense base. Neither of those put her remotely near as juicy a subject of discussion as a former pirate turned smuggler who’d once run with Tommy King. Even that must be easier than actually being Tommy King.
“Let’s go, I’ve locked down the ship, and there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Mason said. Lauren smiled slightly, glad to see the eagerness in his face. His expression had looked so hard in the aftermath of the battle against the Chxor.
“Who’s this, I thought you didn’t have any friends?” Lauren asked.
He led the way through a doorway and then out into the crowded streets. “I don’t,” Mason said, over his shoulder. “He’s more like a teacher.” Something in his voice suggested that their relationship was more friendship than he would like to admit.
The industrial smell of the spaceport blended with the stench of unwashed bodies and the faint reek of an open sewer. Lauren fought back a memory of her childhood raised under Chxor occupation. She clenched her fists and blinked away sudden tears.
She continued to follow Mason, though her enjoyment of being on a new world had vanished with the memories of the one she’d been born to. She absently wondered if she would ever kill enough Chxor to make her feel better about her childhood. No... not ever, she thought, not even if I could kill them all at once. She’d become so caught up in her own thoughts that she nearly ran into Mason’s back when he stopped suddenly.
The first thing she noticed was the sudden tensing of his shoulders. “Mason?”
He slowly set her duffel down, “Wait here.”
He stepped forward and she saw his hands brush his prayer beads. A moment later, those same hands came to rest on his holstered pistols.
Lauren sidestepped into a nearby doorway and her hand fell to her own pistol. The street Mason had led her down seemed to empty of people as she watched. Mason had stopped, three or four meters away from the ornate entrance to a walled courtyard.
As if on cue, three men stepped out of the shadows of the gate. All three were big men and carried weapons. The two flankers carried submachine guns, Lauren saw. The one in the center held a drawn pistol, not quite aimed at Mason. He was the one who spoke, “Took you long enough to get here. Almost thought you hadn’t got the message.”
“I hadn’t,” Mason said, “I’ve been… detained. What’s this about?”
Something caught Lauren’s attention above. Her eyes flicked to the rooftops to where two men took up overwatch positions, rifles held ready.
“Just a friendly chat,” the speaker said. “Our boss had no bone to pick with the priest. What happened here could have been avoided if he’d cooperated sooner.”
Lauren drew her own pistol as she saw Mason’s body stance shift. Even so, she barely had it out of the holster before his first shots rang out. The three men in the doorway were down. She had her pistol trained on the nearest of the men on the rooftop. Even as she squeezed the trigger, four more shots rang out, so rapidly they might have come from a machine gun.
One of the men fell onto the street, body limp. The other, struck by her shots and Mason’s, flopped back out of sight. Lauren peered around. Her heart beat rapidly. The burnt smell of smokeless powder stung her nose. “That’s all of them,” Mason said, his voice flat and emotionless as a robot. There were times he scared the hell out of her.
His cold blue eyes met hers and he frowned, “Are you alright?”
Lauren nodded, “I’m fine.”
Mason cleared his throat, “I… have to see this, but if you want…” A part of her cringed at his tone, for she knew exactly what he expected to find in this place. He hadn’t spoke of it much during the voyage, but the few words he’d said had held tones of reverence.
He expected to face the worst – his sanctuary, the place he found his soul again – to be violated. And he’s willing to face it alone, Lauren thought, as if I would leave him. Lauren said, “No, I’ll come.” She stepped forward and picked up her duffel to stand by his side. He smiled, at her and she smiled back.
The stepped through the gate and Lauren bit back a shout of surprise at what she saw on the other side. The wall had concealed a large, open compound. Dozens of trees, some in bloom with bright pink flowers, sat in clusters around small buildings. In the center, a larger stone building squatted. It consisted of many heavy stone pillars supporting a roof that seemed more curves and angles than anything else.
Boiling out of that structure came dozens of men and women in brightly embroidered robes. The ocular impact almost reset her brain after the dingy brown streets of the city. The crowd came to a halt, their leader an ancient old man with, what Lauren judged, what had to be the most absurd hat she’d ever seen in her life. It towered, a mass of feathers, beads, bells, and possibly acres of silk.
He managed to bow gracefully and Lauren repressed a giggle at the fact that the hat stayed firmly in place. “Mason, it is good to see you.”
Mason looked stunned, “Lan, it’s very good to see you, I thought–”
“You thought they had killed me,” The old man spoke calmly.
“Yes. I’m glad you’re alright.” Mason let out a deep breath. “Did they say why they came?” The old man nodded, his face expressionless, serene in a way that made Lauren feel uncomfortable. Not nearly as uncomfortable as his next words, though. “Yes, they came looking for Tommy King.”
***
Halcyon, Garris Major System
Contested
May 3, 2403
Garret yawned and stretched as he climbed out of the cockpit. His long, lean frame fit into the cockpit of his Hammer, but only barely. He ran a hand over his shaved scalp and then reached down and offered Heller his hand. As usual, she ignored it and pulled her light body out with one hand. Garret sighed, “You know, I'm just being polite?”
“Ya,” Heller said. “I'm being polite by not breaking your wrist.”
Garret sighed again, “You know, I couldn't fly with a broken wrist.” Normally a frown on his hard, dark face was reason enough for someone to change their attitude, especially backed by his size.
“This is reason for politeness,” Heller said as she dusted off her flight suit, doffed her helmet, and put her ear-buds in. Her voice grew a bit louder, “It would take me too long to train new pilot, ya?”
> “Right,” Garret said. He shook his head as he turned away, but he didn't even try to hide his smile. Heller was eccentric, to say the least, but she was a great auxiliary officer on his Hammer.
“Commander Penwaithe,” a voice spoke from behind him.
Garret turned and grimaced to find a man in a black uniform. He recognized it as Nova Roman, which meant he was one of Admiral Mannetti's people, “Yes?” He recognized the tabs on the man's uniform, he was a commander as well, apparently. Like most of Mannetti's people, his uniform did away with any form of identification. Either they liked to keep people guessing who they were dealing with or it was some kind of stylistic choice, much like her infamous low-cut uniform.
“Commodore Pierce sent me to speak with you,” the officer said. “Admiral Mannetti is preparing a raid and the locals are going to accompany us for combat experience.” The smirk on his face told Garret just what he thought of that. “We're cross-loading some of your missiles to the locals, until they're able to replace some of their stocks.”
Garret grimaced. They'd captured Heinlein Base intact, but like many officers in the Colonial Republic, it's garrison commander had been corrupt. He'd sold off most of his stockpile of munitions to the black market, which meant that the locals had a paltry reserve to draw upon after the War Dogs had turned over the Colonial Republic ships to them. In theory, Admiral Mannetti could have made up that lack from the ships she'd captured. Of course, she'd moved those to one of her bases 'for repairs.'
Garret seriously doubted she'd ever turn over any of the ships and he had some dark suspicions about what had happened to the prisoners she promised to 'repatriate' to the Centauri Confederation.
Of course, the people of Halcyon Colony didn't ask many questions, in that regard. Their allies and hired help had come through, and they had liberated the planet. But funding was tight, the Colonial Republic had cut all trade and the Centauri Confederation had already threatened to retaliate for the loss of their ships and the profit of Nova Corp.
So now the locals had turned to privateering... which meant more work for the War Dogs, of course, but it also meant stronger ties to a pirate. A generous man would have assumed that it was just one of those things that happened. Garret being an experienced mercenary figured it was all according to Admiral Mannetti's plan... and that the long term survival of his former homeworld was in far graver jeopardy than it's inhabitants realized.
“I assume that Commodore Pierce has already received payment for the transfer?” Garret asked. Wherever his loyalties might, in theory, lie, he was still a mercenary. Payment of goods and services was a necessity, especially for when this entire enterprise fell apart and the people of Halcyon colony were left holding the bag.
“Of course,” the nameless commander answered.
“Great,” Garret smiled. He knew his white, even teeth would stand out starkly on his dark face and seem even more friendly. “I'll just call Commodore Pierce, then, to confirm and see how many we've been paid for already.”
The nameless commander grimaced, “Oh, well, that's fine. I, uh, meant to say that the President of Halcyon authorized a transfer for payment and I can arrange delivery.”
“Excellent,” Garret said and his smile grew broader. “I'll wait then, until the payment arrives.”
The commander grimaced, again, “Usually this sort of thing is done on trust.”
“Good, then you can trust me to transfer the munitions upon receipt of payment,” Garret said. “In the meantime, I've got some preparations to make.” Garret turned away and didn't bother to listen for a reply. He could almost hear the other man's teeth grind in frustration. He listened as the other man struggled a moment to think up some way to dig himself out of the hole he'd dug and then turned and stalked away. This kind of move was exactly the sleazy treatment he'd come to expect from Mannetti's people. Why, after all, did they need to even pretend to be fair to the hired help?
Garret loved to turn that around on one of them, especially since he had caught the other man trying to cheat him. The War Dogs couldn't afford the best munitions, but if they were transferring over enough to augment the Halcyon ships, then it would a quantity be worth hundreds of thousands in any currency worth mentioning. The crews of those ships needed those munitions, Garret didn't doubt. So far, they and the War Dogs had gone on two similar 'raids' with Admiral Mannetti. To Garret, it looked more like the Admiral wanted to use them in high visibility missions to lessen her own exposure.
Commodore Pierce had remained remarkably quiet about why they had remained under the contract at Garris Major. Garret had fully expected news that they would depart just after they'd turned over Heinlein Base to the locals. Instead, the Commodore had attended a number of meetings with the newly elected President Monaghan and his staff. One of dad's old cronies, Garret thought, if I remember right.
“You want me to let them know to prepare to transfer the missiles?” Heller asked. Her light voice and thick accent somehow managed to make even that sound sexy, Garret noted. He nodded, “Yeah, but don't authorize movement until payment clears.”
“Ya, of course,” Heller said with a roll of her eyes. She popped her ear-buds back in and bounced away. The small, blonde woman looked almost like a teenager as she flounced away.
Garret just shook his head and headed for the War Dogs offices. The huge bays of Heinlein Base were originally built for commerce, but they served more than adequately for warships. His eyes picked out the men and women of his squadron as they moved out after the patrol. Clint, Jason, and Caela headed with purpose towards the civilian section, no doubt to find a card game and company. Ted, more cerebral, looked to be headed for the barracks, no doubt to dive into a book or one of his strategy games. Jay and Ahmad both had girlfriends among the crew and they headed off together in a rush that made Garret smirk a bit.
The other four, Hugh, Tyrone, Jacel, and Jude, all oversaw the post-flight maintenance as the flight crews serviced their Hammers. The big gunboats required extensive maintenance after each flight, far more than a fighter or even dedicated bomber. The gun systems, especially, caused intense structural stresses on their hulls, but also all of the auxiliary systems, engines, and every other part of the big craft needed a full inspection after each flight and extensive maintenance.
Garret worked his way over to the War Dogs's offices. Almost as soon as he stepped inside, he found Commodore Pierce waiting. “What's this I hear about you refusing to transfer munitions?”
Garret sighed, “Not refusing, just requiring proof of payment, first, sir.”
“Well, good job, then,” Commodore Pierce said. “It didn't sound right when that sniveling worm called me a moment ago. How did the patrol go?”
That was one thing that Garret loved about the War Dogs. Some mercenary companies went with rigid military structures and enforced draconian discipline, to the point that reporting was an intensive process. “No sign of any activity from the RLF at Eldorado, but we didn't have time to linger and do a full scan. I uploaded our data already to our network, if you want, I'll go brief Josh on it.” Captain Josh Wachope was the War Dogs' operations officer.
“Nah, he'll want to review it and compare it to what Mannetti's people sent us from last week. I think they filtered their sensor data before they turned it over.” The tall, blonde man shook his head, “I'm about entirely fed up with those lying bastards at this point. If not for...” he trailed off and shot Garret a sharp glance. “Well, let's just say that the locals are lucky we're still here.”
“Right,” Garret nodded. It was reassuring, in many ways, to see that the Commodore had the same feeling as far as Admiral Mannetti. At the same time, Garret felt uncomfortable about the thought of leaving the planet to her tender mercies, especially since they didn't seem to realize how dangerous their alliance with her was becoming. In some ways, the War Dogs prevented Admiral Mannetti from entirely leveraging the colony into her pocket.
“Garret,” Pierce's tone changed and Garre
t heard the slightest hesitation in the other man's voice. “I know that you are originally from Halcyon. I haven't brought it up before... I know damned well where your loyalty lies.”
Garret stood a little straighter at that. His face flushed, though with his dark complexion it would have been hard to tell. The War Dogs weren't just any mercenary company, in many ways they were family. Better than his family had been, anyway. “Thank you, sir.”
The Commodore shrugged, “Just calling things the way I see them.” He cleared his throat, “However... I wonder if you might have contacts, here?”
“What do you mean by that, sir?” Garret asked. He felt uneasy at the thought. Granted, he hadn't any loyalty to the planet, but the way his superior had phrased it, it almost sounded as if they were talking about spying on their employers. Which is just good business sense for a mercenary company, Garret thought.
“Friends, former companions, even family,” Commodore Pierce said. “Anyone that you can talk with, possibly even leverage. There's more here than their struggle for independence, you've seen that. Hell, it's half the talk of our company. The shift to privateering went too quickly, their crews were too eager, and their government is getting too friendly with the likes of Admiral Mannetti and Admiral Collae.”
Garret shrugged uncomfortably. Not that he disagreed. “Sir, what does that have to do with us?” Granted, Admiral Mannetti and her people were snakes, but Admiral Collae had something of a good reputation as an opponent to the corrupt leaders of many of the Colonial Republic systems.
“I want to know why they're making such a big deal about such a backwater world. They pissed in the faces of the Centauri Confederation and they seem to count on the likes of Admiral Mannetti to keep them safe... and I want to know why they trust a pirate so much and what leverage they think they have on her. Because if their assumptions are wrong... we're going to be left holding the bag.” Pierce leaned back against the wall, “And I don't like being left holding the bag.”
