He Who Dares: Book Two (The Gray Chronicals 2)

by Rob Buckman

  “Good God! That thing is ugly.” Pete muttered, looking at the view screen.

  “Pretty much all guns and shields Pete.” Mike countered. It’s not meant to be pretty, just intimidating.”

  “It is that…”

  “And yes, it could make a serious dent in larger ships.” It wasn’t the first time Mike had seen it, but he wasn’t about to mention that. “It's designed to scare the crap out of pirates and the like, that come in systems looking for trouble.”

  “Just one?”

  “Oh no, there’s a bunch of them running around here. If he gets into trouble ten or twenty more just like him will turn up.”

  “The cutter, Captain is asking who we are and what our business is, Skipper.”

  “You know the story, Jan. Give him the party line and see how he reacts.” She did, but they only heard half the conversation.

  “Yeah, that’s right, a Merc ship. We’re just looking for some supplies is all.”

  “No asshole! I’m not looking for a big dick! If I was, you’d be way down on my list, shithead!” She snapped, killing the connection. She turned, her ears red, looking furious.

  “I take it that your request to enter the system was well received?” Pete asked. For a moment, Janice glared at him before nodded her head.

  “We are supposed to check in with orbital control on channel 81 after we enter the system.” She snapped. “They will assign us an orbit and insertion time.” Saying that, she turned back to her board, muttering something about men under her breath.

  “The local natives seem friendly.” Pete observed, a slight smile on his face.

  “Let's just hope Janice doesn’t meet that friendly gentleman dirt-side.”

  “Yes. Might not be good for his health.”

  Orbital control gave them a parking spot twenty hours later and they settled in between two heavy freighters and a bulk ore carrier before setting the helm to automatic station keeping mode. What caught Mike eye were the two really large vessels parked in high orbit. Each was better than a mile long and bristling with weapon pods, yet neither was a warship.

  “Helm. Engines to standby, and stand down from watch.” Pete ordered eyeing the dozen or so ships within sensor range.

  “Aye-aye, Sir. Engines to standby and standing down from watch.”

  “Busy place.” He said, cocking his head towards the screen.

  “Pretty standard for a major trading center, Pete.”

  “I’ve never been out this far, so I’ll take your word for it Skipper.”

  “Busier around Alfa-Centurion, sir.” Conner put in as he stood and stretched.

  “Really?”

  “Aye, sir. About five times this volume and a bitch… begging your pardon, ma’am.” He turned and apologized to Janice.

  “No apology necessary Chief.” She smiled back.

  “Yeah, it’s really hairy getting in and out of that system. Thank God, they had the sense to put up multiple traffic control station at the warp point.”

  “Has a couple of nasty accidents a few years ago from what I hear.” Seeing Mike nod in agreement, but it puzzled him how the Skipper would know about that. He wasn’t old enough.

  “Who are those really big buggers up there, Janice?” Pete asked, eyeing the screen. Janice tapped her keyboard, lips pursed as she worked.

  “Oh yes! Of course. Both vessels are Free Trader, XO.”

  “Hummm. Heard of those, but I’ve never seen one. Big bastards.”

  “When you work the outer rim and gone for anywhere from three to ten years at the time, they have to be big.”

  “How big a crew do they usually carry?” He asked. Mike answered before Jan.

  “Five hundred to a thousand, depending on the run. Local space they don’t need that many cargo handlers, but deep space runs they usually carry that more.” Mike could see the question before Pete asked.

  “Out on the rim, most of the systems don’t have container handling equipment, or large fleets of tugs, so they use their on-board heavy lift shuttles to ferry trade goods up and down.”

  “Makes sense, but why all the weapons? A bit unusual for a cargo ship.”

  “True, but Free Traders end up in some pretty strange places with a lot of unfriendly people.” Mike smiled slightly, remembering the stories he’d heard.

  “Someone only had to tangle with one of those ships once to get the idea.” He didn’t add that if any, Free Trader ship went down, she sent out an Omega Code across the whole bandwidth. When that happened all hell broke loose. Not only did several Trader ships converge on the last known position, but elements of the Avalon Deep space Fleet as well. What happened after that depended on what they found. More than one system watched in horror as their warships were pounded into scrap metal before the fleet exacted revenge on the guilty parties. Having a few KEW’s, kinetic energy weapons, drop on their head usually convinces the local not to screw around with a Free Trader ship.

  “Shore leave, Skipper?” Pete asked. Mike looked around the Bridge, seeing the expectant looks on the crew’s faces, inwardly smiling.

  “I don’t see why not.” The smiles got bigger. “However, there with be a strict drinking policy in force and groups of not less than five each are to go ashore together… AND come back together.” The smiles slipped a little.

  “Problems, Skipper?”

  “Yes Pete. That’s a rough crowd down there, and beating or killing drunks for their valuables would be the least of it when it comes to the female members of my crew.”

  “I’ll make sure they all understand that, Sir.” Conner growled.

  “Also, contrary to naval policy, all members going ashore will be armed.” That brought everyone’s head up. “You have strict orders to use them only in protection of your life, or that of a crewmate.” The looks sobered. “That’s not to say you can’t use anything else if it should come down to a punch up in the local bars.”

  “Just like downtown Dublin on a Saturday night.” Conner chuckled.

  “Aright you lot. Except for the standby watch, dismissed!”

  “What about you, Skipper?” Pete asked.

  “I’d like you and Lieutenant Fletcher to join me ashore tonight. I have a little business to conduct.”

  “Business as in spying?” Janice laughed.

  “That’s intelligence gathering to you Lieutenant Fletcher.” Pete sniffed.

  “Right, we be spooks tonight.” She laughed, hearing Pete groaned.

  “What on Earth do they teach these kids at the Academy these days, Skipper?”

  “Oh the usual. How to hold your tea cup with your little pinky out, inane small talk, double speak for the crew, and how to dance pretty for the Admiral’s wives.” Pete nodded.

  “Sounds pretty much the same as when I was there.” He nodded.

  “Pretty much.” Mike chuckled.

  “Bum boats or shuttle, Skipper?” Conner asked. Mike thought about it for a moment.

  “Both. Have the shuttle ferry the bulk of the crew down that want to go ashore, but have it on standby where the crew can find it if need be.”

  “Going to have a couple of unhappy Marines there, Captain.” Pete smiled.

  “If they can convince two of their bunk mates to trade off with them in a couple of hours, that’s okay with me. Sober bunk mates that is.”

  “Right, Skipper. I’ll get with Sergeant Rice and arrange it.”

  “Carry on, Chief.”

  “Dress for the evening, Skipper?” Janice asked.

  “I don’t think Mr. Standish-Owen would look good in a dress, Janice.”

  “Oh!” She looked startled. “I didn’t mean…” Mike held his hand up.

  “I know what you mean, Jan.” Eyeing Pete’s expression.

  “Not funny, Skipper.”

  “Semi-undress should do it. Nothing military, but erring on that side. We are professional mercenaries, are we not?” If he thought, he was going ashore with just Pete and Janice, Jenks soon put a spike in that id
ea, and said so.

  “If you really think I’m going to let you go wandering around some strange city without me, you’re daft.” Was all he said and he pulled his sidearm out of a draw.

  “Jenks, I’m going down to do a little business is all, not get into a bar fight!”

  “Right. Where have I heard that line before …’I’m just going into town to pick up a few things’…” he mimicked. “And what happened?” Before he could answer Jenks told him. “You started a bloody riot that's what!”

  “I wasn’t my fault…” Mike protested.

  “When you said…’pick up a few things… I thought you meant shopping, not three girls, one of whom was the chief of police’s daughter, his underage daughter I might add!”

  “She wasn’t underage, unless you consider 23 underage.” He shot back indignantly.

  “Well, on Seamark they did.” Jenks said, looking superior. “So, I’m going.”

  “I’m the bloody Captain of this ship…” Jenks just looked at him a blank expression on his face, as if to say… and that gets you what?... Mike just growled and went into the bedroom to change.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

  The ‘Captain’s’ gig took them down with Mike at the helm so as not to use up any of the Marines shore leave. He parked it on the edge of the landing field as a precaution, hearing the tower squawked at him until Mike barked something back at them in a language none of them understand. After that, the controller fell silent. He picked this particular spot, as the gig would be out of the landing field lights after dark, and something he felt might be advantageous if the evening didn’t go well. Even so, they had only just started walking towards the distant terminal and the main gate when a battered ground car pulled up, a faded ‘Tazi’ sign on the side.

  “Need a lift?” The red face driver asked in heavily accented Standard English.

  “How much?” Mike shot back.

  “Twenty Sirrien credits, and fifty Earth.”

  “Get the hell out of here. You’re a worse crook than I am.” Mike snapped. “Ten Earth at the most. Take it or leave it.” The driver looked at him again and reassessed his opinion that this was a bunch of wet behind the ears kids on their first shore leave.

  “Ten Earth, it is.”

  “And that’s all the way into town. Drake Street at least.”

  “What! You have to be kidding. That’s at least twenty-five. Kid.”

  “Twelve!”

  “Eighteen!”

  “Fifteen and we’ll throw in a tip.” The driver thought about it. Drake Street? This kid knew where he was going. Not exactly, the good part of town, but better than dockside.

  “Done.” He said at last.

  They piled in and the taxi took off in a cloud of diesel smoke, sounding as if it was about to fall apart. It only took a few moments to get through Customs and immigration, not that they needed a lot of papers, just credits, or gold cash to pay the landing tax. The drive to town wasn’t that far, but it took over an hour due to traffic as they inched they way out of the docks and landing area pass heavily loaded trucks and mag-lift freight cars. Once out of the main crush of inbound and outbound traffic they made good time to Drake Street, where Mike paid the driver off. He did add a ten credit note, seeing the man smile and touch his dirty cap.

  “Thanks, Captain. You are a sport.” Driving off in another smelly cloud of diesel smoke.

  “Don’t they have a clue about environmental damage, Skipper?” Janice asked as she wiped her watering eyes with a tissue.

  “Not a high priority item on their agenda right now.”

  “You think it has something to do with the state of diplomatic relations?”

  “You mean the coming war, Pete.”

  “Yes, Skipper, but I didn’t want to put it like that.”

  “At the moment the Government here is more worried about making money from both sides and stocking up on essentials.”

  “Essentials?”

  “Food stocks. If the war starts, they might be cut from their main suppliers.”

  “Why would these people need food? They have a whole planet… Oh, you mean to supply those that don’t have an agricultural base to draw on.” Mike pointed a finger at her.

  “Got it in one, Jan. They are traders. They don’t care who’s fighting the war, or who wins, just as long as they can keep trading with everybody and make money.”

  “Damn cold bloodied if you ask me.”

  “No, Pete. Just practical is all.” As they chatted the four of them worked their way through the crowded pavement, taking in the sights, sounds, and smell of the city. As with most colonies, the City was a mix of new and old.

  This part was ‘old’ town, and they could see the ‘new’ town rising above them in the distance as commerce pushed its way into the sky. Unless someone stopped it, the city fathers would soon erase this part of town in the drive to modernize. With it would go their heritage, but it was doubtful they looked upon this part of town that way. To them it was gradually becoming an eyesore and something to get rid of as quickly as possible. It was rowdy, smelly, colorful, and full of people on their way up or down the social ladder, and mainly run by the criminal element. They weren’t much different them and the City Fathers, and probably many of them had their feet in both parts of town. So, what else was new.

  There was probably more bars, whorehouses, and gambling joints per square mile here than the rest of the planet combined. Mike wore his old flight jacket with the zip up pockets. His dark pants were tucked into space boots and he wore a battered ships cap on his head. One pocket had his wallet in it while the other had his comm unit, and either had his hand in it, or they were zipped up when he didn’t. Pickpockets would have a hard time dipping him. Pete and Janice took Mike’s lead and wore similar outfits. Conspicuous on their hips were the side arms, but no pickpocket in his right mind would touch those. Mostly due to the fact they were keyed to the user, therefore useless to them, and most had a nasty habit of exploding when tampered with. Mike took the lead, heading uptown, but he wasn’t exactly sure where he was going. On his last trip here, the Third officer had taken him to a certain building by a roundabout path and he was half-drunk by the time he got there. Seeing a bar called the ‘Copper Kettle’ that looked vaguely familiar he stepped inside the room, smelling of cigarette, cigar, stim smoke, stale beer and vomit. It felt like he’d come home.

  “Good lord! People actually eat here?” Janice asked after one whiff.

  “I heard the foods great here.” Mike shot back with a laugh.

  “Better you than me, thank you very much.”

  “Hey darling! You looking for a good time?” A large semi-drunk spacer asked.

  “Yes, but I don’t think you can get your pathetic little dick up enough to satisfy me barf breath! Now go away like a good little boy.”

  “Stuck up bitch!” The man replied as he staggered away.

  “Humm… I don’t think Janice’s last sensitivity training class did much good, Skipper.” Pete said loudly from behind his hand.