Kill Shot: A Remnant of the Commonwealth, Book Two

by Williams, Christopher

  The Long Shot was a smuggling ship, and Charles Morgan had modified the gun, increasing the power of each shot. The thinking behind this modification was that in a firefight, a smuggling vessel needed to take advantage of surprise by firing the main gun and hitting the target harder than expected, then the ship needed to make a run for it. The Long Shot was not intended to stand toe-to-toe with a warship. It was designed to hit hard, hit fast, and then run like hell.

  The drawback to this modification was that the main gun was firing well in access of its rated power levels. It was limited to three quick shots; any more and the gun could be seriously damaged. Although, if it meant the survival of his ship and crew, Aaron would gladly fire the gun until it melted down.

  Aaron turned his attention to the forward canopy, watching as the frigate approached quickly. It, too, was old and outdated, probably the best the elatori could afford. Even as he watched, the frigate began slowing. The frigate was between them and freedom, and the frigate’s captain knew it. He had seen what had happened to the destroyer and Aaron wasn’t surprised when the computer confirmed the frigate’s shields were raised.

  “How long until it’s in range?” Aaron asked.

  Both Susan and Russell began punching on their keyboards, but it was Russell that spoke first. “Eleven minutes.”

  Aaron’s only answer was a nod. It was going to seem like an eternity.

  The time passed slowly, and Aaron found himself disliking the captain’s chair. Every member of the bridge crew had something to do, something to keep them busy. All he could do was sit there and wait while his mind imagined every possible horrible scenario.

  The frigate grew quickly in the front canopy until it dominated the forward view. The captain of the other ship did not try to contact them. Aaron knew they had seen what happened to the destroyer and they were out for blood. They would not be taking any prisoners.

  The organic computer in Aaron’s head identified the ship as a hopelessly outdated Grant Frigate Type III.

  “Enemy’s in range,” Russell called out.

  Aaron nodded. “Let it get closer,” he said. They only had three shots and he wanted to make them count.

  The other ship was holding its fire as well; the great distance between the two ships would minimize the effect of even a direct hit from the plasma guns.

  “Missile launches,” Susan called out. “Intercept trajectory. I count six.”

  Aaron swiveled his chair toward Susan in surprise. The Grant frigates had not originally had anti-ship missiles installed, so that meant the ship had been upgraded at least once. “Countermeasures,” he said.

  Russell had been punching buttons on his terminal even before Aaron spoke. “Interceptor missiles launched,” he replied. “Gun batteries online, just in case anything gets through.”

  As fast as the Long Shot was moving, the missiles were even faster. Both sets of missiles rocketed toward each other. The missiles from the frigate were larger but unsophisticated.

  The Long Shot’s interceptor missiles quickly closed the distance, positioning themselves in the path of the oncoming missiles and seemed to explode. In reality, the interceptor missiles released a cloud of small explosives, similar to mines. The explosives were active in that they sought out anything metallic in the area. The explosives were too small to do much damage to a ship, but they were deadly to a missile. Five of the six incoming missiles exploded; the sixth continued toward the Long Shot.

  “One missile survived,” Russell called out.

  “They’re opening fire,” Susan said loudly. She and Russell nearly spoke over each other.

  Aaron ignored the last oncoming missile, trusting that the automated ship’s guns would take care of it. Instead, he turned to Russell and spoke quietly. “Raise the gun and fire.” They were still farther apart than Aaron would have liked, but that frigate had been upgraded more than he had thought, and he didn’t want any more surprises.

  To his credit, Russell didn’t argue.

  Aaron looked out the rear portal as the two doors of the concealed gun compartment flipped open. The huge main gun zoomed upward until its base was level with the top of the ship’s hull. The gun twitched as the computer fed it targeting information, and then it fired.

  The whole ship bucked as the main gun fired for the first time.

  Aaron turned back to the front; the plasma bolt flew between the ships and slammed into the frigate’s shields. The energy from the blast arced across the shields, resembling a lightning storm. The shields held.

  A cold fear settled in the pit of Aaron’s stomach. It was possible the frigate’s shields had also been updated. If the frigate’s shields were strong enough, then maybe the frigate could withstand everything the Long Shot could throw at it.

  Aaron couldn’t pull his eyes from the scene, even when his ship bucked again. The main gun was firing for the second time.

  The second shot quickly crossed the distance and impacted the enemy’s shields. It too seemed to arc across the shields, but only for a moment and then the frigate’s shields collapsed; the residual energy from the plasma blast hit the ship’s hull but did minimal damage.

  The Long Shot bucked again and a third plasma bolt sped away toward the frigate.

  Aaron needn’t have worried. With the frigate’s shields down, the plasma shot slammed into the middle of the ship. The raw power of the blast nearly cut the ship in two. Minor explosions ripped through the ship and it lost attitude control and began drifting.

  Elated by the frigate’s incapacitation, Aaron turned his attention back to more pressing concerns. “Status on that last missile,” he called out.

  “Destroyed,” Susan replied.

  “And those other ships?”

  “Too far away,” she said, smiling. “We’re in the clear.”

  Chapter 6

  The return trip to Pocal III was uneventful. The Ishek family was delivered to Bella-Sul, where distant relatives waited to help them. They seemed relieved, both to be off Bathia, but also to be free of the Long Shot. It would seem that space travel was somewhat disagreeable to them.

  The Long Shot wasted little time on Bella-Sul. The ship landed, delivered its passengers, and immediately took off again, much to the displeasure of Eric and Thomas. All in all, the little side trip delayed them no more than a day. Aaron hoped to push the ship’s engines and perhaps make up some of that lost time.

  The crew spent most of those nine days in the cargo hold, sorting items from the outfitter shop. Most of the clothing was second-hand and some of it was in pretty rough shape. After two months with only a couple changes of clothes, the crew didn’t complain about the quality of clothing; regardless of its state, they welcomed it.

  Even after the clothing was sorted and claimed, an enormous amount was forced out the airlock. Some of it wasn’t made for humans, and still other pieces were the wrong size or just in terrible shape.

  The food supplies were primarily canned or in computerized, self-contained crates. Regardless, the supplies were sorted and moved into the kitchen’s larder. Aaron was pleased that their stores increased dramatically. Instead of several weeks of food, he now guessed they had at least three or four months’ worth. A bit of the worry that always seemed to be clinging to him lessened a bit; at least they wouldn’t starve for a while.

  The robots were moved from the cargo hold to engineering. Kyle was only too happy to begin working on the broken ones. He also promised to thoroughly examine the working bots.

  Trips through the deep dark could be quite boring, and there were a number of items that could help pass the time. Perhaps the most widely applauded items were those used for strengthening the body. They found several used but functional cardio machines and a rather large collection of weights. They set up a gym in a large compartment on the crew deck.

  They also found a fair number of games and vids; some of them were clearly labeled while others were stashed in non-descript crates and boxes.

  The vids we
re a mixture of entertainment and educational. There were even a few vids meant only for adults, but they disappeared quickly. Aaron wasn’t sure, but he suspected the adult vids had been confiscated by either Eric or Thomas.

  Aaron found one treasure that he kept for himself. Inside an unmarked crate was a small, metallic case. Upon closer inspection he realized the case contained an ancient, disassembled gun that fired solid projectiles. The elatori would have scanned the outfitter shop for weapons, but the antique probably wouldn’t have shown up on the scans since no one used solid projectiles anymore. Also in the case was a small box of forty bullets. The gun went into the concealed wall safe in the captain’s quarters.

  After everything was sorted and the trash disposed of, there was still a pile of quality leftovers. Some of it was parts that were incompatible with the Long Shot’s systems. There were also tools that were not needed or duplicates. It wasn’t worth a whole lot, but valuable enough that they stored the items for now. They should be able to trade or sell the items at a future port.

  They set down at the spaceport on Pocal III, just outside the capital city. It was early morning, overcast, and a drizzling rain was falling. Being late fall, it was fairly cool out, and Aaron wore a light jacket, pleased to put some of his new clothes to use.

  Susan waited for him at the bottom of the cargo ramp. She was smiling as he walked up.

  “Customs just left,” she said.

  Aaron blinked in surprise. As captain he would have expected to be notified.

  “Sorry. I would have come and got you, but they just looked at our empty hold and cleared us.” It seemed like Susan had read his thoughts, and it was quite possible she had.

  Aaron nodded. Pocal III was nothing like Bachia. He welcomed the quick and easy customs inspections. He smiled at how the day was shaping up. “Want to come along?” he asked, motioning toward the skiffs. They still had to return the loaner skiffs and deliver the emethium to Benjamin Dunn. Dunn would then pay them for delivering the guns in standard credits.

  “If you need me to, I can,” Susan said slowly. “I had intended to take the spacesuits and get their seals recertified.”

  Aaron shrugged. “Go ahead. I’ll get some of the others to help.”

  It took about an hour for Aaron to round up Russell, Eric, Thomas, and Grady, and then get the skiffs moved to Dunn’s warehouse.

  Benjamin Dunn was a fine, upstanding citizen, at least that was the appearance he put on. However, in addition to his legal businesses, Dunn also sold guns to whomever would pay for them. It was also rumored that he sold large quantities of drugs, but Aaron had never seen any proof of that.

  Dunn did business out of four warehouses that were all grouped together just outside the spaceport.

  Aaron took Russell, Eric, and Thomas because the men knew how to handle themselves. He wasn’t sure how good a fighter Grady was, but the alien was pure terrifying. He hoped that Dunn wouldn’t try anything funny, but the four members of his crew would be ready if Dunn tried to double-cross them.

  They drove the skiffs through a large sliding door in the side of one of the warehouses. The warehouse was full of crates and boxes and Aaron was confidant none of it was contraband. One did not leave illegal items sitting out in the open.

  They stopped just inside the door. There were ten or so humans working among the cargo and they all stopped to face the newcomers.

  Aaron smiled his friendliest smile and addressed the men, “I have business with Mr. Dunn.”

  The closest of the workers was a huge brute of a man. Tall, broad, and muscular, he scowled at Aaron’s group and looked less than receptive. Still scowling, he took a step closer but stopped as a quiet voice spoke out of the shadows.

  “It’s all right, Dek. He’s expected.” A small, thin man, who looked like he rarely saw daylight, stepped from the dark door of a small office. Aaron had met him once before and recognized the man as Anderson. He was Dunn’s secretary, bookkeeper, or something like that.

  Aaron assumed that Anderson was his last name, but he wasn’t sure. He nodded his head and smiled. “Mr. Anderson, I’m returning the skiffs and the pallets that Mr. Dunn loaned to me.”

  Anderson’s eyes flicked down to the pallets and then back up. He nodded once. “Come with me, please.” Aaron and his four crewmen all made to follow, but Anderson shook his head. “Only you, Captain. Your men can wait here.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the watching workers. “Dek, get those skiffs stowed and check out the pallets.”

  Aaron glanced over his shoulder, pleased to see all four of his men looking at him. They were waiting on his command. There was something pleasing in that. Perhaps this collection of ex-military and criminals could make a respectable crew after all. “Wait here,” he said. “I won’t be gone long.”

  Anderson led Aaron over to the corner of the warehouse and down a spiral staircase. They emerged in a comfortable-looking waiting room.

  Two large men in suits stood as they emerged from the stairs. Their clothes had suspicious bulges and Aaron marked them as bodyguards.

  A large wooden desk sat beside the lone door. A woman sat at the desk. She was slim with long, blonde hair. She wore a low-cut blouse that exposed a substantial amount of bosom.

  “Captain Walker to see Mr. Dunn,” Anderson said.

  The woman nodded and smiled. She leaned forward, hit a button, and began to speak. She stopped suddenly and hit a different button and started over. Aaron got the feeling that she wasn’t employed for her organizational abilities. “Mr. Dunn, there’s a Captain Walker to see you.”

  A soft buzzing sound rang out and the door slid open. Mr. Anderson motioned for Aaron to go through.

  With one more look at the two thugs, Aaron entered Benjamin Dunn’s office.

  The office was large, extending off to Aaron’s left. There were three steps down, and the long room ended in a semi-circular desk. A couch was directly in front of the desk, and a chair was off to the side. Antiques sat in niches along the wall, and several valuable guns hung on display plaques.

  Benjamin Dunn sat behind the desk, but he stood as Aaron entered the room. He was in his middle years, nearing fifty but he looked younger than that. Lean and muscular, he had the look of a man who fought long and hard to stay in shape. His hair was brown and cut short, and his clothes looked expensive. He stepped around the desk, holding out his hand. “Aaron, I’m glad you made it back all right. You’re late and I was beginning to get worried.”

  Aaron shook the offered hand, and then sat on one end of the couch as Dunn sat at the other end. Anderson had followed Aaron into the room and he sat in the lone chair.

  “My apologies for being late, but I was delayed a day,” Aaron said.

  Dunn nodded. “It happens. How did the delivery go?” he asked.

  “The delivery?” Aaron repeated. “The delivery went fine. No problems.” He didn’t feel like volunteering a description of the space battle.

  They were interrupted by a squawking sound. Anderson apologized, and then held this right hand up to his mouth. “Yes?”

  “It’s all here, sir,” a deep voice said.

  “Thank you,” Anderson said and lowered his hand.

  Aaron smiled. “That must have been Dek,” he said. It made sense that Dunn would check to make sure the emethium was in the pallets.

  Dunn nodded. “I have to check. You understand?”

  “Yeah,” Aaron replied, “but now that you know you have the emethium as promised, can I have my payment?”

  “In a moment,” Dunn said, and there wasn’t a trace of a smile. “You see, we have a bit of a problem.” The words caused Aaron to tense up, and Dunn must have realized how it sounded. He held his hands up in a placating manner. “Relax. I will pay you in a few moments, but first we need to talk.”

  “About?” Aaron asked. He had relaxed slightly but still didn’t like the way this conversation was going.

  Dunn took a deep breath and leaned back. “Well, how a
bout the destruction of a destroyer and a frigate.”

  Aaron sighed, not really surprised that word of that had beaten him here. Most inhabited planets had communication satellites that were stationed outside the Hasan point. Communications traveled at the speed of light from the planet to the satellite, which then opened a microscopic wormhole to the message’s destination. The communication then traveled through the wormhole much faster than a ship could. Messages were stored on the receiving end by a second set of communication satellites, and spacers could check when they reached port.

  Aaron hadn’t wanted to discuss the fight, but it looked like he didn’t have much of a choice. “It was necessary,” he said. “They wouldn’t have let us leave.”

  Dunn waved his hand. “You misunderstand. I don’t give two shits if you destroyed the entire Bathia fleet,” he held up one finger, “except that Bathia has offered a reward of five hundred thousand credits for you and your ship.”

  Aaron blinked at that news. Five hundred thousand? As suspicions and dark thoughts swirled in his mind, Aaron studied the two men. He was surprised to see the smile back on Dunn’s face.

  “Captain, I’m not going to betray you if that’s what you’re thinking. If I did, I’d be lucky to just be run out of business,” Dunn said. “People in my line of work don’t last if they betray their own. But I won’t be able to use you anymore.”

  “What?” Aaron exclaimed. “If anything, you should be pleased with our capabilities.”

  “I am,” Dunn said soothingly. “However, with a reward like that, someone is bound to turn you over.”

  Aaron shook his head. “They don’t know our names or the name of our ship. They have nothing.”

  “Nothing,” Dunn repeated. He then turned and motioned to Anderson.

  The little man pushed a button and several holographic pictures appeared in the middle of the room. They were grainy, but someone might be able to recognize him or the other members of his crew. There were also several images of the Long Shot.