by Shane Black
“My crew is just now realizing I have a twin sister,” Jason said in a deadpan tone.
“I already explained to Fury’s bridge officers you were a lab experiment gone terribly wrong, sir.” Jayce replied. “I just wanted to send along my compliments to Doctor Doverly. You will remember to give her the card I had flown from one end of known space to the other, won’t you?”
“Of course! Do I look like a heartless lout?”
“Permission to speak freely, Captain?”
“As you were, Commander. By the way, since when have you been flying your own flag?”
“Fury took the point at Gitairn Station last month. When the task force arrived, they were down three ships. I was senior officer present, so I got the job.”
“Congratulations!”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now the important question. Have you built me a robot that can clean a room yet?”
“With all due respect, sir, my robots are not cleaning utensils! Now, if you’d like to borrow Echo for a couple of weeks, I’m sure she could get Argent’s house in order.”
“No! For the love of all that is green and growing, don’t you dare let that siren-obsessed wheeled alarm clock anywhere near this ship! My medical officer would have to submerge me in tranquilizers to stop the nightmares. Belay the request for a cleaning bot. Just– draw me up some ideas for a swabby machine or something!”
“I’ll do what I can, Captain. Fury out.”
The bridge crew did their best to look serious, but several of them were too busy covering up their smiles and desperately trying not to sputter a laugh.
“Operations reports Argent spacelanes secure. Navigation cleared for all flight modes.”
“Thank you, acting XO Walls.”
The ensign blushed again and tried to sit up straighter without inadvertently pulling a muscle.
“Helm, navigate course one three one, mark sixty. SNS screens to fifteen percent power. All ahead full.”
“Aye, sir. Helm answering. Mains engaged. All ahead full.”
Captain Hunter reclined in his command chair and toggled the main viewscreen to a forward view of space and the overlay of the navigational corridor to their destination. A clock began ticking the ETA down from eight hours and fifty three minutes in the upper right corner of the screen.
The 200,000-ton DSS Argent surged forward and accelerated towards the Jupiter system’s fifth planet.
Five
Jason Hunter walked into Scary’s Bar and Grill like Bill Russell walking into Boston Garden. Even people who had no idea who he was acted like they knew him. His Argent baseball cap with his rank insignia made it clear to any and all fleet personnel who he was, and although technically regulations didn’t require them to salute him off-duty, many did anyway just out of respect for his brief but colorful reputation as a pilot, flight leader and now battleship captain. He smiled and greeted everyone warmly, as if already celebrating a big victory. It made people feel like they were participating in the mystique.
Simon “Scary” Huntington was the proprietor of “Fleet Inn” as it had come to be known over the years. The proximity of Jupiter Station made the establishment the obvious stop-off point before ships moved on to deliveries, other assignments or back to Jupiter to pick up ships that couldn’t be inspected right away. Huntington’s nickname came from his tall, gaunt appearance and shock of black hair. Most joked he could play the part of Frankenstein’s monster without make-up. That didn’t stop him from doing himself up as a monster every Halloween, of course. Nevertheless, he was often the most human-looking creature in the building. He shook hands with Captain Hunter and made arrangements to store the down-low shipment of bottle service Hunter had delivered aboard Command One.
Over the years, the Fleet’s favorite bar had grown large enough to accommodate several hundred. There was a full-fledged dining room, banquet facilities, gaming areas for card players, a makeshift dance floor of sorts and of course, one of the most well-stocked bars in a radius of ten light years. “Scary serves it all” was the slogan. Even so, Huntington still tolerated Captain Hunter’s occasional insistence on bringing his own adult beverages from time to time. He and his party could never drink several dozen cases, of course, but “forgetting” what they didn’t drink and leaving it behind was Hunter’s way of paying for the privilege. It was also the only place in twenty light years where a Skywatch Officer could get away with an act that would be blatantly illegal pretty much everywhere else in space.
Jupiter Five was officially “neutral” under interstellar law. It had completely independent law enforcement and explicitly prohibited both military and civilian officials from exercising any jurisdiction on the surface or in orbit. The ruling council was also careful to bar extradition outside the system. Aside from its own governance, the only law that functioned on Jupiter Five was bounty hunting, which was also illegal but rarely enforced absent an extraordinary lack of discretion.
There were three tables reserved for the Argent party. Hunter had barely slid into one of them and ordered his trademark drink in an old-fashioned glass from his own reserve when an attractive skimpily-dressed young woman poured herself like honey on his lap and put her arms around his neck.
“You never call.”
The girl’s piercing blue eyes were painted with flawless black mascara and light green highlights. Her pouting expression gave her a kitten-ish look, and her long feather-decorated brandy-colored hair added just the right touch. She was toned and tight and seductively curvy in all the right places. She wore a black and brown tactical harness tailored to reveal all the smooth caramel-colored skin possible. It was decorated with a number of ominous insignia and set off by a pair of skin-tight tac-suit pants that hugged her shapely form in ways that were flat-out unfair. She was also armed with at least three weapons, two of which Hunter guessed were illegal. Hunter also guessed she had at least one knife hidden in a boot or glove as well.
“And you broke jail.”
“Oh, Jason, you didn’t even bother to look after me. All the charges were dropped. Those mean Convoy merchants never even showed to testify. Besides, nobody wants to see me exiled.” She smiled, walked her fingers up Hunter’s t-shirt and drew little circles on his neck with a perfectly manicured nail.
“Last I checked you and that gang of yours were facing six dozen counts of piracy. You wouldn’t have been exiled. You would have been thrown to the wolves!”
“You wouldn’t let that happen, would you?” She blinked and focused her gaze directly into Hunter’s eyes. “If you didn’t have me to chase, whatever would you do for fun?” Her lips were scarcely a few millimeters from his. He noticed the mesmerizing scent of her alluringly understated perfume.
“Next time I’ll just lock you in my brig, Cerylia.”
“Mmmmmm...” She gathered her shoulders together and snuggled as if wrapping herself in a warm blanket. “As delicious as that sounds, it would put a bit of a crimp in my style.” She gave Hunter a mocking pouty frown.
“Hey, this is a family bar!” Lucas Moody shouted. The burly marine officer stood at Hunter’s table and gave Cerylia more than a lingering glance. He wore fatigues and a black and silver Camp Oscar Boxing Team t-shirt. The Argent’s Captain responded with a scoundrel’s smirk.
“Major, I don’t think you’ve ever been properly introduced. This is Cerylia L’Orleans. She’s wanted for piracy, bootlegging, smuggling, claim-jumping and just about everything else in the Core Systems Interstellar Code short of insurrection. Captain L’Orleans, this is Major Lucas Moody. My paladin squadron leader.”
“Charmed.” L’Orleans gave Moody a smile that made him think the wrong thing.
“Captain,” he replied with a textbook courteous nod. Then he glanced at Hunter, who offered him no clues on what to do next. To avoid any uncertainty, the major chose to take a seat and grab a bowl of mixed legumes and crackers, making a point of not looking in Hunter’s direction.
“I’m also
wanted for kidnapping,” Cerylia purred, lifting her knees together and giving Hunter a squeeze.
“You haven’t killed anyone, have you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow of his own.
She nuzzled Hunter’s ear with her lips and whispered. “Far as you know.” She slid off his lap and gave him a teasing look over her shoulder. Hunter leaned sideways, playfully tried to swat her backside and missed.
“Cross the line, Captain, and I’m going to lock ya up.”
“Ooh, I can’t wait! See you out there, Captain,” she giggled. A moment later Cerylia slipped into the crowd and vanished.
Hunter returned to his drink and smiled the smile of a guy remembering that particular girl.
“Is this where I change the subject, sir?” Moody asked without taking his eyes off the half-emptied cracker bowl.
“No, Moo, this is where you get yourself something and take a drink with your Captain! Rae! Hey!” Hunter whistled through his fingers. A dizzy-looking overworked barmaid looked through the crowd in his direction. “Get my mech commander a stein and fill it with a beer-like substance! Let’s get this party started!”
Moments later a half-gallon of sudsy brew landed with a thud on the wooden table in front of the major. His eyes widened at the sight of so much golden happiness in such a huge quasi-transparent ceramic container.
“That’s not a beer! That’s a glass of heaven!” Moody exclaimed.
“Let it never be said the Captain of the Argent doesn’t take good care of his men!” Hunter held up his glass and toasted the major. Moody responded in kind and the two officers took matching swigs.
Jason’s internal radar snapped on. He had heard something, but was still trying to separate it from the surrounding noise when Major Moody rose from his seat and looked across the room. Hunter stood. Although he wasn’t quite as tall as the imposing marine officer, he could still see two Skywatch personnel engaged in what looked like some kind of altercation at a table filled with drink glasses and snacks and surrounded by a dozen more Skywatch NCOs and crewmen.
A junior lieutenant was standing over an exhausted-looking man who was wearing the distinctive uniform of a Skywatch petty officer. It didn’t look like a healthy conversation to Jason or Lucas. Hunter made his way through the crowd and arrived at one end of the table just in time to hear the lieutenant shout the word “hey!” as if trying to get the petty officer’s attention. Lucas walked up behind the lieutenant and scanned the table. He rapidly concluded all the present ranks combined wouldn’t add up to enough authority to change the thermostat.
Hunter remained quietly in plain view as he observed and noted the officer’s tone of voice. The word “badgering” came to mind. The NCO looked close to unconsciousness, head bent towards the table. Major Moody took another look around. It reminded him of a room full of frat guys halfway through a keg. One of them started to light a cigarette. The major had had enough.
“Attention on deck!”
The only thing that broke the relative silence that followed was the dish that tumbled across the floor, scattering crumbs and broken crackers everywhere. Seventeen people stood at rigid attention. More than a few of them had narrowly avoided involuntarily relieving themselves at the sound of the major’s command voice. Pale straining faces stared straight ahead.
Hunter watched as the petty officer tried to get to his feet and caught the man just before his buckling knees let him drop to the floor. Jason helped him back to his chair and tried to lean down to see the man’s face.
“Petty officer? Are you alright?”
“I’m at the tail end of a 40-hour run, sir. Permission to stand at ease.”
Hunter looked up at the major.
“Why don’t you take a couple days liberty on me, petty officer? Get some rest. You look like hell,” Hunter said.
“Thank you sir. I will sir.” His voice sounded like it required most of his remaining strength to speak. Hunter stood and directed his attention to the lieutenant.
“How does that sound?”
“The petty officer was absent without–”
“I don’t care what the problem was, mister. You all start from one again in two days. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir.”
“Very well. Carry on, lieutenant.”
Moody took another look around with glaring eyes. Then he gave the order to stand down. The two officers returned to their own table.
By the time Lucas had wiped the suds off his upper lip from his next swig, a strangely quiet girl was rounding Hunter’s table. In her hands was a small blinking electronic device of some kind. She was oblivious to everything else in the room, but she did take a seat at Hunter’s table.
“Yili,” Hunter said pleasantly.
The girl nodded. She was dressed in a Skywatch Senior Lieutenant’s uniform with a rare red and black Orbital Combat Engineering patch insignia on one shoulder and several decorations it would have taken most officers at least one or two glances at the medal book to identify. She wore a garrison cap similar to Hunter’s sister and had long-ish white hair. She went back to fiddling with her little blinking toy.
“What can I get you?”
“Earplugs.”
Moody grinned.
“How about a drink?”
She shrugged.
Hunter gestured and whistled again. Moments later a festive, brightly colored drink was placed in front of the young woman. She ignored it.
“Doctor Doverly, I presume.” Standing before Hunter in an impeccably-pressed medical corps Commander’s uniform was an attractive auburn-haired young woman. Her expression was pleasant, but it was clear from the look in her eyes she was possessed of a formidable intellect.
“Jason, it’s so good to see you again,” she replied graciously. The two officers hugged each other like long-lost friends.
“Oh, before I forget and encourage my lovely sister to have me court-martialed, here.” Jason picked the card up from the table and gave it to Annora. She opened it and smiled as she read the greetings, congratulations and many signatures of the Fury officers and crew.
“Awwww, this is wonderful, thank you,” she gushed. “I’ll send a communique the very next chance I get.” Hunter noticed the new gleam of the coveted golden Search and Rescue badge on Annora’s uniform. The training the device represented was among the most feared and respected in the fleet, second only to Special Warfare training.
Major Moody greeted her with an overwhelming bear hug. “Glad to see you, Doctor.”
Hunter was busy greeting more acquaintances while Yili shook Annora’s hand and smiled. It was the first time the lieutenant had looked up since arriving. The doctor put down her things and took a seat on the female side of the party’s head table before quietly ordering a glass of white wine. Yili still hadn’t touched her drink. She was far too engaged with her mechanical distraction.
Just as the Captain was ready to take his seat again, a slender young woman in a uniform very similar to Yili’s jumped up and down and waved across the room. “Jason! Jason Hunter! Is that you?!”
She ran with her hands outstretched directly towards the Captain. He had just enough time to recognize Zony Tixia before she jumped into his arms and the two spun in circles with her feet lifted off the floor. One would have thought they were newly engaged by the bubbly energy of the girl’s laugh. Her short pink hair only added to the sweetness of the scene.
“I haven’t seen you in so long! I’ve got so much to tell you! You just won’t believe it all!”
“Well, I’m glad to see you too, Zony!” Hunter roared. “I think you’ve grown since last time.”
“You stop that!” she chirped, whapping his shoulder. “I’m still almost as old as you!”
Hunter pulled out a chair for her. “What will you have?”
“A margarita in the biggest glass they can find!”
“Outstanding!” Hunter snapped his fingers. “Rae!”
Zony took Moody’s hands and squeezed them, whispering a
cheery greeting. She did the same for Doctor Doverly. Most who saw Zony Tixia alongside the rest of Hunter’s party would have suspected she wasn’t quite the same as the others, and they would have been right. Tixia was only three-quarters human. Her paternal grandmother hailed from a vaguely elf-like humanoid race native to one of the Reach Worlds. It gave her skin an understated shiny quality and a color just a bit pinker than human skin should be.
Among the benefits of being not-entirely-human, Tixia had perfect pitch and hearing more sensitive than a bloodhound wearing a directional microphone. On her shoulder was the blue and white patch of the Signals Corps, and like Yili, her collar was decorated with a senior lieutenant’s insignia. Besides Hunter, she was also the only other officer at the table with the crossed bronze shotguns of the Indian Forks campaign affixed to her uniform. However, unlike Hunter, Tixia’s decoration included a sapphire palm device. She had been asked on many occasions to tell the story, but up to now she never had.
Apparently the Captain had surreptitiously put plans into motion right after Zony arrived, because after taking his seat and having his old-fashioned glass refilled with impeccably aged amber-colored liquor, the food began to arrive. A platter of roasted chicken surrounded by dippable vegetables was placed right next to an enormous tureen of vegetable soup and a stack of large fat-handled cups. On the opposite side of the chicken platter, a carved roast appeared moments later. Everyone was presented with a plate and utensils before Hunter tapped his glass with a fork a few times. The sound got the attention of his officers and more than a few close bystanders.
“I’d like to take a moment to tell you all how much I appreciate your responding to my hastily arranged party invitation. I only have one piece of official business to conduct before we all get far too undressed and involved in the evening’s food and drink. I’ve put in requests to transfer all of you to my command aboard the Argent.”
“Just like that, huh?” Zony teased.
“One of the perks of being a Captain,” Hunter replied with another boyish smirk. “Skywatch Command has signed off, but I figured I’d still need to get you all appropriately inebriated before the night’s over so as to avoid a mutiny before we even get back to the ship.” Annora stifled a laugh.
