Moral High Ground: Crew of the Ninja #1

by Joseph Bradshire

  “That same red tape is going to hold up my reinstatement?” Jon asked.

  “Yes. It’ll take at least 6 weeks for the bureaucracy to roll over, right now the Great Republic is threatening to use the Crusaders to continue the blockade should Battlefleet pull out. It’s political posturing, hoping for some concession or other from the Protectorate Council. So it’ll be awhile before all the negotiations are done. In the meantime, your removal will be used as some minor political leverage or other. I’m glad to be out at the Frontier and away from the center of it all.”

  “So until they clear you and get you back on deck you’ll do me this favor. Officially you are on leave, going on a trip to Cao Prime with your old friend Chief Sam Walchli. Unofficially I’ll make sure powerful people know it was you that completed this mission. That will help smooth things along.”

  Having a mission, a plan, it helps. Jon was feeling more confident, less jittery. “Okay. Whatever it takes to get back on a warship.”

  Jon paused a moment. “So did you have a plan for getting us off planet? A spare cruiser laying around maybe?”

  The Admiral smiled.

  * * *

  The Independent Merchant Ship Ninja blinked into existence in the Sol system, somewhat outside Martian orbit and well above the elliptical plane. Far off course for a trip to Earth. Massive stars, like Sol, bent space time. Creating a jump shadow. An area you couldn’t jump into or out of without risking falling off a space-time cliff. The trick was to jump in as close as you could without putting the ship in danger. Simple concept, but easy to screw up.

  The Ninja was way off course. They were in for a bit of a jaunt in real space. Several hours’ worth.

  “See Jeff. I told you. We needed to do it in two jumps. Long jumping like that wastes time, way too inaccurate. Look how far out we are. Earth isn’t even on this side of the primary.” Weston was yelling, they were several light minutes off course. This would lose them time. Time was money. Weston loved his money.

  Jeff Aichele barely noticed Weston getting angry anymore. Weston was the ship’s owner. Jeff was the pilot. Let Weston worry about all the particulars. Jeff just liked to drive.

  “Relax, we have plenty of time in the schedule,” Jeff said. “Plus, we’ll get a good look at Mars on the scopes. Greenest planet in the galaxy, or so I hear.”

  “Yeah, great. Let me do the course calculations. You’re lucky your dad isn’t paying us for speed or I’d have to dock your pay for the time lost.”

  Weston was always saying that. He never docked anything though.

  Jeff kicked on the active scanners to have a look around, the red impact light lit off immediately and a warning klaxon sounded. Debris, something, asteroids or dust maybe. Didn’t matter. Jeff strapped in with one hand while goosing the engines with the other.

  Weston was screaming something unintelligible behind him, but Jeff wasn’t listening. He was focused. 100%. Most humans couldn’t one track their mind like Jeff could, because he wasn’t entirely human. His people had been one of the earlier colonial efforts back when radical genetic alteration wasn’t so frowned upon.

  Jeff’s subspecies had been altered to live in an aquatic environment. His skin was slick and blue, his fingers webbed. He had gill slits on his neck. Half terrestrial, half aquatic.

  Born to live in a 3-dimensional undersea environment, Jeff’s ability to maneuver in space and keep track of multiple moving objects was unparalleled. A born fighter pilot.

  Unfortunately, the IMS Ninja was no star fighter, not nearly that maneuverable. It was a fast transport, so had good acceleration, but it was built to haul cargo. Not to dodge debris fields.

  Something impacted on the hull and Weston wheezed. “Dammit don’t mess up my ship!”

  Jeff hit the button to charge the shields. Weston should have already activated the shields while Jeff was flying, but Weston was too busy freaking out.

  Jeff never freaked out.

  With one last turn Jeff throttled to maximum and pushed them out of the field. He brought them on course for Earth and set the autopilot. Updated maps from Sol Traffic Control started coming in, mapping all known hazards and feeding them into the autopilot. There shouldn’t be any more surprises.

  Jeff got up and started walking off the bridge.

  “Where are you going?” Weston yelled.

  “To take a nap. It’ll be at least 18 hours to Earth.”

  Weston shook his head. He was always so nervous. A real worry wart. He’d be up the whole time. Watching. Monitoring. Even though the computer would alert them of anything out of the ordinary. The area between Earth and Mars was probably the most well mapped area in all of human space, even this far above the elliptical. The danger was minimal.

  Jeff went to his quarters and pealed back the cover on his water bed. Taking off his jump suit he slipped into the cool embrace of his native environment, opening up his gill slits. They tended to dry out and get itchy if he didn’t wet them several times a day.

  He was asleep before the splash cover rolled closed.

  * * *

  Jon arrived in Oxford by late afternoon via civilian shuttle. Inconspicuous, in civilian clothing as if on vacation. Nothing out of the ordinary. He wasn’t sure if he was being watched, and if so by whom, so he decided not to worry too much about it. Going all cloak and dagger might draw more suspicion than simply walking around openly. Hide in plain sight.

  At least that was Jon’s theory. He’d never actually gone on a secret mission before. Everything in his career up until that point had been straight forward. A few minor engagements, some blockade duty. All fully open and above board on the bridge of a starship.

  Jon arrived at the address Sam had forwarded him and waited. It was a coffee shop. Jon sat with his back to a wall where he could see people coming in and out of the front door. He ordered a pineapple juice, no gin this time, and waited.

  Before long the big red bear, Sam, walked in with a tiny young lady. Young Rae. He recognized her from the picture. The picture hadn’t done her justice though. She’d been maybe 18 in the picture, still very much a kid. Now she was mid-20’s and very much not a kid anymore. Jon put that notion out of his mind, time to be professional. He waved them over.

  “Hello, Ms. Rae is it? My name is…” There was a popping sound from the back of the shop. From what Jon had assumed was an office or storage area.

  Jon knew what it was immediately. Someone was firing subsonic rounds toward Sam and Young Rae. Sam also knew the sound. He immediately pushed Young Rae behind him to protect her.

  Sam was hit several times, eventually going down behind a table, bleeding. Not dead though. Jon could see him pushing Young Rae along a wall behind even more tables.

  Another patron, the only other person in the shop, stood up to make a break for the door and was shot in the back.

  Jon couldn’t see into the back area where the shots were coming from, he was too far off to the side, but that meant the assailant couldn’t see him either. He made his way over tables and chairs to the edge of the corridor. He drew his pistol.

  Jon carried a standard 9mm service issue pistol, loaded with gel caps. Gel was less lethal than lead or uranium slugs but also didn’t penetrate vital ship systems on board a starship. Jon wished just then that he’d loaded penetrators, if he shot an armored person his gel cap wouldn’t do much.

  Jon glanced around the corner and fired. There was one figure back in the shadows, Jon emptied his pistol into him. The figure retreated back down the corridor. Jon saw light as the assailant opened the back door and limped his way out, retreating.

  Jon reloaded while walking over to where Sam was covering up Young Rae.

  “Sam, you alright?” Jon looked down, he could see Sam definitely wasn’t alright.

  Sam wasn’t wearing any body armor. Even subsonic slugs could shred an unarmored man at that range. Sam was bleeding all over the floor and all over Young Rae.

  “I’m shot up bad,” Sam said. “Maybe I’
ll die, maybe not, either way you guys need to go.”

  Jon didn’t want to leave his friend bleeding in some dirt hole coffee shop that didn’t know how to lock its back door, but Sam was right. If they had been attacked here, they were not safe anywhere in Oxford. Not on the streets and definitely not in that shop. Enemy reinforcements could arrive at any time.

  Jon grabbed Young Rae by the hand and pulled her to her feet. She was in shock, not speaking. Covered in blood. Starting to shake from the nerves and adrenalin.

  Jon didn’t bother trying to calm her down. They needed to get out of there fast. Sam handed Jon his own gun while calling an ambulance. Jon gave him one last look as he led Young Rae away. He was bleeding heavily, but still conscious and talking. He’d probably be fine. He’d been shot multiple times but was no easy kill.

  Jon put it out of his mind as he dragged Young Rae down the rear corridor to the back door. It was possible the front was being watched, that’s where they were expected to exit. Jon wasn’t interested in doing what was expected.

  He kicked open the back door and rushed through, Sam’s pistol in his hand. The man Jon had shot earlier was standing off to one side, his subsonic pistol laying on a garbage can lid while he massaged the red welts where Jon’s gel caps had bruised him through his light body armor. A second man stood with his back turned to Jon. He had a pistol in his hand.

  Jon shot the bruised man through the chest. His light body armor was not nearly sufficient to stop the shot. Unlike Jon’s pistol, Sam had loaded high velocity armor piercing explosive tipped rounds. It caused the pistol to kick. Almost too much for Jon to handle.

  The second man began to turn, raising his pistol, but Jon shot him in the back before he could turn all the way around.

  Jon could hear commotion from the front of the shop. Men were coming in and shouting and Sam was shouting back, and firing. Sam had a backup pistol, of course he did. That guy was always ready for battle. Probably had grenades on him as well.

  Just then an explosion rocked the front of the coffee shop. Jon hoped it had been Sam’s grenades. With one last glance into the back of the shop Jon slammed the door and rolled a dumpster in front of it.

  Young Rae still hadn’t said anything or moved.

  Jon took her by both hands and brought his face close to hers. “I’m going to get you out of here. You don’t have to be afraid of me. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Young Rae said, squinting and focusing on Jon’s eyes. “I believe you.”

  She had a thick Cao accent. Jon was a sucker for girls with accents.

  Chapter Four

  Jeff Aichele leaned back in his pilot’s chair of the Ninja, dozing off. It was the most comfortable chair on the ship, meant to protect the pilot from all manner of buffeting and g-forces. It was no water bed, but Jeff never lost an opportunity to get a little shut eye. Weston would disagree, but Jeff wasn’t lazy. Not exactly. His biochemistry simply required him to get extra sleep.

  That he was getting that sleep while he was supposed to be manning the bridge was not a big deal. At least not to Jeff. They were under crewed, not enough people to keep a constant bridge watch without cutting into sleep time, and needs are needs. Besides, nothing interesting was going to happen, they were sitting on a landing pad. Not even moving.

  Jeff’s pocket com sounded, it was Jon. “Hey Jon is that you? Where are you, on Earth? We just touched down a few hours ago. We should go get a pie or something...” Jeff would have continued on but Jon interrupted him.

  “Light up the reactor and drives, I’m coming right now and we need to get out of here.” Jon sounded harried, and he wasn’t broadcasting video. Audio only. Not good.

  “Okay, I can be ready in a few minutes, I’ve kept the reactor on standby so we won’t need to heat up at all. When will you be here?”

  The connection dropped, or Jon cut it, whichever. Jeff could see one of the port carts racing toward the front of the Ninja. Jon was driving with a young lady in the passenger seat. Jeff started flipping switches bringing the ship to full power.

  Weston came onto the bridge. “Why are you firing up?”

  “Jon’s coming, says we need to go now.”

  Weston looked out the view port. “Jon? I thought we were waiting for Sam. Well with what we are being paid I don’t care who we haul. As long as your dad pays up?”

  That last part was a question Weston had been asking every few hours. As if a Battlefleet admiral wouldn’t pay as promised. Hell, the money was probably already in escrow on Cornhaul.

  Weston got onto the vid com with the space port control tower. “Tower this is the IMS Ninja, we need clearance for immediate liftoff. Over.”

  “Denied, there’s been an explosion and gunfire in town, we are locking down all outbound traffic until we get clearance from city authorities.” The tower controller didn’t seem pleased. Shutting down traffic at a port would play hell with transit schedules. The controller would be the first one people yelled at.

  Jeff was about to suggest something when Jon burst onto the bridge. “Port control this is Captain Aichele, Battlefleet. I’m invoking a military emergency override. We are leaving now, clear a path.”

  Jon reached over and cut the vid connection. Which was good, because Jon had blood on his hands and shirt.

  Jon turned to Jeff. “Get us out of here, ignore any calls to stop.”

  Weston cut in. “Wait, if there’s some sort of grounding order we can’t just break the law, we have to stay until we get the all clear.”

  Jeff looked at Weston, then back at Jon. Then back and forth again. Technically Weston was the captain. He was also the owner. Jeff was his employee, or a minority shareholder if you wanted to stretch the definition.

  Jeff turned back to his console, strapped into his comfortable chair, and blasted off.

  Weston wasn’t happy. He was yelling something, probably something about docking his pay, but Jeff wasn’t paying attention. Jeff had been yelled at before. He’d learned to tune things out.

  * * *

  Jon checked the online Oxford General Hospital logs, trying to see if Sam and been admitted. There was a twinge of guilt for leaving a man behind, even if it was the correct protocol when protecting a VIP. Since relieved of command Jon had become overly conscious of protocol. The hospital logs weren’t up to date but were public record. Fully searchable by anyone who cared to look. Earth was remarkably open with information.

  They were several light seconds out from Earth, past Lunar orbit, too far out for a real time call. Jon recorded a vid message and sent it to the receptionist of the emergency wing of the hospital. What he got back was an audio message from Sam himself.

  “Quit trying to check up on me you big softie. They’re going to put me into a healing coma, so you won’t hear from me. The med weenies are worried about internal bleeding, one of my lungs filling with blood. Hell that’s why I have two, I told ‘em. Valhallan lungs don’t collapse. Not in this candy ass gravity. Okay, they are telling me to get off the phone. Go fast and go dark. Walchli out.”

  The Ninja crossed Sol’s jump shadow without further mishap, getting the all clear to jump at 12 light minutes out. Weston monitored the jump coil as it spun up, the matter reactor dumping massive amounts of energy into the sealed coil chamber. At the apex, with the mags spinning the coil faster than the vid monitors could see, glowing bright white, Weston hit the big red button. IMS Ninja jumped out of the Sol System on its first jump toward the Cao System.

  * * *

  Jon was annoyed. “Weston do you think it’s wise to jump on a straight line course toward Cao Prime?”

  “Why not?” Weston asked. “It’s a well mapped route. No shifting stellar masses to worry about. It’s the fastest way.”

  Jon could tell Weston was still a little miffed with the Aichele brothers blasting off from Earth in such an unorthodox and quasi legal fashion. He didn’t like other people telling him what to do on his own ship. This was going to be a problem. Jon had to tread deli
cately.

  Jon was used to being in command, so was Weston. The difference being Weston had never been under anyone’s command. Whereas Jon had spent nearly a decade in service of other captains before getting his own ship.

  “Well,” Jon said, diplomatically. “We are carrying a ‘VIP’. I don’t know what she is or who she is, but we do know she was the target of a coordinated assassination. There could be ships waiting on the mapped route to Cao.”

  “Not likely,” Weston said. “The chances of them knowing where we’d re-enter real space-time is remote. Hell, with Jeff flying we are rarely within a few light minutes of our target point anyway.”

  So now Weston was lecturing Jon on the realities of jump space travel. Great. An enemy didn’t need to know exactly where’d they’d be, just an approximation. Any mapped route would have certain points a ship needed to hit to stay on course. With buoys set up to allow for more precision. Any one of those points was a perfect spot for an ambush. Set up an ion pulse and trap them.

  It was unlikely, but not impossible.

  Jon tried another tactic.

  “Weston. You are being paid by the military. Paid a lot, I imagine.”

  Weston nodded. His face brightening a bit.

  “That means this is a dangerous mission. You need to be careful with your ship. Do you think if the Ninja is damaged, or destroyed, or captured, the Protectorate Battlefleet is going to compensate you?”

  “Actually, yes,” Weston said. “I insisted that be part of the contract. I’m no idiot.”

  Well. That was true. He certainly wasn’t an idiot. How he’d gotten Jon’s father to agree to that provision on top of the fortune he was paying them was a real negotiation coup.

  “Can we at least dog leg a short hop on the next jump? Even if you are insured and guaranteed, I really don’t feel like being suddenly vaporized in an ambush.”

  Weston agreed to that, at least. Jon was glad but still nervous. Adjusting flight plan in the middle of a long sequence of jumps was usually bad practice. If something went wrong a ship off course was unlikely to be found in the vast black of space between star systems.