Soldiers of Fortune

by Joshua Dalzelle

  “You could ask him yourself, if you were so inclined,” Jason said. “He never knew we were there. In fact, it’s highly likely he doesn’t yet know the case is even missing. We left no trace.”

  “Quite impressive, Captain,” Dowarty said appreciatively. Then a small chuckle escaped his lips, which quickly turned into hysterical, almost maniacal laughter. “I wish I could see his face when he goes to show these to someone and they aren't there,” he said after he had composed himself. “You’ve made my employers very happy, and so let me return the favor. We’ll pay your asking price, plus twenty percent. The added bonus is for your continued discretion concerning this job.”

  “What job?” Jason asked innocently.

  “Exactly,” Dowarty answered with another smile. “Feel free to enjoy the meager entertainment Oorch has to offer, Captain. The community around this spaceport tends to attract a rough crowd, so you and your crew may feel right at home.” Without a word of farewell, Dowarty slid into his vehicle and sped away, disappearing behind another squat, ugly ship within seconds.

  “And now we’re back to no leads,” Crusher growled.

  “I’m not so sure,” Jason said as he stared at where the car had disappeared, his mind turning over the last few minutes carefully. “Let’s call a family meeting. We need to get our shit together and start getting some answers, but for now we’ll stay parked here. No point in hurrying off if we’ve got nowhere to go.” The three walked back up into the ship, raising the ramp after them and leaving the aft cannons deployed as a deterrent for any would-be vandals or thieves.

  It was the third day since they had delivered the box to Dowarty, and so far no prospect of additional work seemed likely. But they did notice that the ships coming and going at the small spaceport they were at were a little different than your average fringe freighters and scows. There was a parade of sleek, if aging, warships that would land, fuel and refit, and leave again. They ranged from slightly larger than the Phoenix to much smaller in size and there was no discernible pattern to the make and model used. All that was certain is that when each ship landed, a crew comprised of what were obviously mercenaries would swagger out and walk with a purpose towards the small town. So, for a lack of anything better to do, all six members of Omega Force tended to gravitate towards one of the more lively taverns come each sundown and see what information they could glean from the crowd of drunken guns for hire.

  * * * * *

  “Damn you’re big,” the drunk slurred at Crusher, using the edge of the table to prop himself up. “Not that being big is the only thing that… matters… you know,” he finished between a series of hiccups and burps. Crusher stared at him as a snake would stare at a rodent.

  “I’m sure,” Crusher rumbled. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

  “Don’t turn your back on me while I’m giving you a compliment.” Jason watched the fatal mistake take place in slow motion, but was powerless to stop it. The drunkard grabbed Crusher’s shoulder and tried to spin him back around to face him. The warrior’s huge, clawed hand shot up and enclosed the much smaller hand and yanked the drunk around and up until he was hanging in the air, too shocked to speak.

  “While I’ve appreciated your praise and unwanted attention, I think it’s time for you to go,” Crusher ground out. Jason, being about seven drinks deep himself, marveled at the warrior’s self-control. What he failed to notice, however, was that everyone had stopped talking and was now staring straight at them. The offending drunk, now realizing his position, did the dumbest thing he possibly could; he scrunched up his face and spit right into Crusher’s eye. Jason held his breath and waited, wide-eyed. The response didn’t disappoint. Crusher tossed his prey in the air and snatched him by the throat before he could hit the ground. He drew him in so he was eye-to-eye and let a terrifying low snarl escape his lips. The drunk, seeming to finally comprehend just how much danger he was in, started to tremble.

  “Hey, no offense meant friend…” He got no further as Crusher, in one fluid motion, threw him over two gaming tables and sent him crashing against the far wall, breaking the video display mounted there and finally collapsing in a heap.

  “HEY! Nobody throws my crew around!” The shout came from a burly, furred being that looked to be about Jason’s height, but wider. The shout drew a raucous laugh from the crowd since Crusher had, literally, thrown his crew around.

  “This doesn’t concern you, asshole!” Jason shouted back. If some other captain was going to stand up and accost his crew, he’d be damned if he wasn’t the one to answer back. “Consider that a lesson in manners and tell him he got off lucky when he wakes up.”

  “Oh shit,” Kage said, “not again.” Jason felt for him; the small Veran wasn’t much of a melee fighter. Or any kind of fighter really. A total of nine beings had started to converge on them, fanning out from their furry captain.

  “There’s ten of us... asshole,” he said, as if that mattered.

  “That’s ok. We’ll wait here while you go get some more,” Jason said, leaning back in his chair and taking a long drink off his beer in an overt display of contempt. The crowd began laughing again, loving the entertainment for as long as it lasted. The other captain was then in a tough spot; he’d staked out the position that he wouldn’t tolerate his men being abused, so he was almost obligated at that point to initiate violence.

  “I can’t let you get away with that,” Furball said hotly.

  “Then don’t,” Jason said with a beatific smile on his face. They were within a few steps now, Captain Furball being wholly focused on Jason. His crew, however, began to take stock of Lucky and Crusher and their alcohol fueled bravado was beginning to wan. Furball looked away momentarily and, just as Jason expected, turned and hurled his drink at him with surprising velocity right for where his head had been as he ducked. He heard some unlucky patron, who hadn’t been so alert, cry out in pain behind him. The corner of the bar erupted after that.

  Crusher’s deafening roar stunned everyone momentarily, giving him time to swing a massive left arm and clear two people out of the fight in one hit. The remaining three on his side froze like prey animals as the Galvetic warrior turned to them.

  “The Captain is mine!” Jason shouted, hopping up from the floor to his chair before launching himself headlong across the table. He had no idea what species Furball was, but he was bored, angry, and drunk enough to not care at that point. As per Omega Force’s standard operating procedure for bar brawls, Kage and Doc took cover, Lucky and Jason picked their targets carefully, and Crusher went berserk and took on all comers. Twingo, their wildcard, hovered around the perimeter of the fight. Being small of stature, he relied on asymmetrical warfare tactics; always ready with an opportune bottle to break on an unsuspecting head or a random stabbing with a piece of splintered bar furniture.

  Furball was strong, but no real match for Jason’s human musculature and enhancements. The impact from his dive over the table sent the pair sprawling backwards ten feet and knocking the air out of the alien in a big whoosh. He wasn’t without skill, however, and managed to get a leg up under Jason and flip him off and over into a tangle of bar stools from the next table. He came down with a vicious forearm swing that Jason barely blocked before bringing his own booted foot back sharply into Furball’s head. The alien grunted and went down to one knee, clearly stunned. Jason rolled and turned so he landed in a crouch facing his adversary. While his opponent was still recovering from the kick, Jason pressed his advantage and swung a haymaker and put all his force into it, swinging sharply at the hips and tossing the punch out like a whip. The hit connected with Furball’s temple and snapped his head over sharply and, like flicking off a power switch, the alien dropped to the floor in a heap and didn’t move. Jason then looked up to see the inevitable results of the rest of the fight.

  Lucky had rendered three unconscious with near surgical precision, causing the least amount of damage possible to knock them out of the fight. Twingo had smashed a chair over
another one, taking him out, while Crusher had toyed with two others, garnering as much entertainment as possible out of the matchup. By the time Jason had turned back around he was down to the last one, and this guy was by far the biggest member of that crew. The crowd hoped for a good matchup, but were about to be disappointed.

  To the frenzied cheers of the other bar patrons, Crusher rushed the lone survivor and clamped down on his upper arms with two massive hands. Before the other could react, Crusher lifted him bodily and slammed his head repeatedly into the ceiling until it lolled from side to side, unresponsive. The big warrior grinned widely and then tossed the unconscious heap onto his captain’s equally unresponsive body. After a moment of stunned silence, cheers erupted around the tavern and a round of drinks were thrust into the victors’ hands as the losing crew was dragged off to recover someplace else. They’re probably just going to toss them out in the alley. He accepted the offered ale and the accolades for what apparently was a stunning display of hand to hand combat on that backwater world.

  The next morning, while Omega Force was in the galley fighting valiantly against the collective hangover they were all suffering from, the proximity alarm sounded to warn them something was approaching the ship. Doc, who had already treated himself in his own infirmary, hopped out of his seat and went to the terminal in the galley to see what the alarm was about while the others relived, and mostly embellished, their exploits from the night before.

  “Looks like it’s Dowarty, Captain,” Doc said loudly to cut over the chatter. Jason frowned, while he had wanted to stick around to see if they could pick up some more intel on the operation on Oorch he had expected to be called over the com. An in-person visit rarely bode well since it was unlikely the officious little administrator was visiting each ship on the pad.

  “He’s outside the ship?” Jason asked, wanting confirmation.

  “His vehicle just pulled up and he’s standing outside by the rear ramp,” Doc confirmed.

  “Shit,” Jason muttered as he stood up and stumbled towards the armory. He was angry at himself for letting things get so out of hand the previous night, not so much the fight itself, but the fact that almost none of them were functional and a potential threat had just appeared at their back door.

  He grabbed a high-powered plasma rifle from a rack out of the armory and made his way to the rear of the cargo bay to lower the ramp, he was not surprised to hear Lucky and Crusher coming after him. Thank God Lucky doesn’t drink. At least one of us will have some reflexes still. He slapped the controls to open the ship up and waited as the ramp lowered, revealing Dowarty standing by himself in front of the same powerful ground car he had arrived in before.

  “Oh dear,” he said. “We’re you expecting someone else, Captain?”

  “Not expecting anybody, to be honest,” Jason said, keeping his weapon casually over his shoulder and realizing he must look ridiculous with bloodshot eyes, no shirt, dirty fatigue pants, and the sandals he wore while shipboard. “Was there an issue with the merchandise?”

  “Oh no, I can assure you, my employers were ecstatic by both your results and your methods,” Dowarty assured him. “There was much laughter at imagining the mark’s anguish when he realizes his prize has wondered off. I’m here for a different reason.”

  “Care to come aboard?” Jason asked cordially. “I can’t imagine it’s something you want to discuss on the tarmac and it’s chilly out here.”

  “Don’t mind if I do, Captain. Wisely discreet of you,” the small man said as he walked up the ramp and followed Jason into the ship. As Crusher closed the rear pressure doors to the cargo bay, Jason couldn’t help but notice two things: Dowarty had come alone, and he also had reverted back to the subservient persona he had displayed when they had first met him while he was in the presence of his bosses. What he couldn’t figure out was why, on either count.

  “Guys,” Jason said as they walked into the galley, “you remember Dowarty, our gracious benefactor on the last job.” Dowarty bowed with a flourish and smiled, playing along with Jason’s joke. “So, what brings you out here again?”

  “As you have no doubt noticed, this spaceport serves as a sort of staging area for my employers’ various endeavors,” Dowarty began. “A large part of what I do is organize our assorted… contractors… into small sub-fleets that can tackle larger projects together.” Jason’s heart began to pound and he struggled to look casually disinterested. This was what they had been waiting for; one of the facilitators that had been organizing raiding parties out of independent mercenary and pirate crews.

  “We had a planned operation that would be launching tomorrow, but it seems one of my crews was brutally attacked last night at a most disreputable tavern. The captain and pilot were seriously injured and the others only slightly less so. This puts me a bit of a bind, but I’m hoping you can help me out of that.”

  “What sort of job is this?” Jason asked, playing the money-hungry mercenary. “Lots of ships means a big target, and big danger. I’m hoping there’s big pay to go along with that.”

  “Payment will be quite ample, Captain,” Dowarty smiled, feeling he had the upper hand in the negotiation. “The target is challenging, but important, so we don’t take the chance of one or two ships; we send a dozen to make sure the operation goes as planned.”

  “I take it you need an answer immediately.”

  “That’s why I came all the way out here personally. Are you in?”

  “Hmm,” Jason made some show of looking around at his crew before turning back to Dowarty. “I suppose we are. People in our position aren’t ones to quibble over the details if the pay is good. When and where?”

  “A ship will be landing within the next twelve hours,” Dowarty said, smiling. “I’ll ping you on this,” he tossed Jason another hand held com unit, “and let you know when it’s here and where it’s parked. You, and you alone, come and get your instructions. Maybe get cleaned up a little beforehand as well.”

  Jason ignored the barb and led Dowarty back out of the ship and to his vehicle. “So your other crew got themselves jumped?” Jason asked casually.

  “The accounts vary from each member of the crew. Their claims range from a dozen well-armed and trained fighters to a full regiment of Eshquarian Marines,” Dowarty said blandly. Jason snorted out a short laugh.

  “We were out and about last night and didn’t see anything like that. What’s their captain look like?”

  “He’s about your size, covered in fur from head to toe. Sound familiar?”

  “Can’t say it does,” Jason said with a straight face. “But, their bad luck is our good fortune I suppose.”

  “I’d say it is, Captain,” Dowarty said as he climbed into his vehicle. “Don’t be late.” Jason watched him drive off before heading back up the ramp and closing the rear doors.

  “Well… we can thank Crusher for this lucky break,” he said as he walked back into the galley where his crew was still lounging around.

  “How’s that?” Twingo asked, eyeing the big warrior skeptically.

  “By beating the shit out of the crew last night that was supposed to be on this job he opened the slot for us.” They all stared at Jason, and then at Crusher in pure disbelief.

  “Of all the dumb luck…” Doc mumbled, shaking his head. Crusher was positively preening as he smiled at the rest of the crew.

  “You all continually doubt me… but I always have a plan. Always,” he said. This was met by catcalls from the rest of the crew and a thrown breakfast pastry by Jason. Crusher deftly caught the sugary projectile, took a savage bite out of it, and strutted outrageously from the galley back to his quarters.

  “So, Jason, how did Omega Force crack the case? Well, Crisstof, we unleashed a terrible beast into their midst to eliminate the competition until we were the only ones left in the Cluster,” Twingo conversed with himself in his best Jason Burke and Crisstof Dalton impressions. Jason realized that Twingo’s impression of him was far too polished for that t
o have been the first time he’d done it. He gave the little blue-skinned alien a flat, unfriendly stare before going to his own quarters to clean himself up.

  Chapter 10

  Jason walked toward the large, gleaming ship that had touched down at the spaceport hours earlier. As he approached the lowered ramp on the port side, he could see two heavily armed guards at the base and two more just inside the entrance, but not the sloppy, amateurish thugs that his line of work seemed to attract. The four men guarding the ship were unmistakably professionals. He stopped a few feet in front of the ramp, identified himself, and raised his arms to allow the search he knew was coming. One of the guards nodded his appreciation at the gesture and patted him down. Jason had not taken the chance of trying to smuggle a weapon on board. If anything went down on someone else’s ship, a single shooter with a hold-out weapon only made themselves a target.

  “Captain, you’re clean,” the guard said crisply. “Go ahead and board and please follow the gentleman at the top of the ramp.”