Decker's War Omnibus 1

by Eric Thomson

  “Peace, captain, I take your point willingly.” He raised his hands, palms outwards. “We’ll wait for the entire crew to be on board before we lift.”

  “You sound very optimistic about our chances, sir,” Terkis remarked. “What happens if we fail to take the ship, or if its crew refuses to lift off?”

  “Taking a civilian ship on the ground is pretty easy, Ker, when you’ve got a fully armed company group to play with. The crew won’t want their vessel damaged. Otherwise, they’re stuck here for a long time, and they’ll sooner surrender to us than fight. As for not wanting to lift off, a blaster shoved in the ear can be mighty convincing.

  He shook his head. “No, getting off Garada and away from our dear Gwangar of Chuluk is going to be the easy part. The hardest is going to be sailing in that tin can for weeks on end before we get anywhere we can call for help from the Commonwealth Navy, not to mention crossing some dangerous badlands in between.”

  Terkis nodded but seemed unconvinced.

  “If there’s nothing else, go forth and get your people ready.”

  The command group snapped to attention and as one, saluted.

  “You buggers are enjoying this regular military crap way too much,” Decker grumbled as he returned the compliment, privately pleased by the display of discipline.

  Seventeen

  Decker drove around the terminal in the first of two skimmers carrying the boarding party. Thanks to the anemic, poorly maintained lighting, he was unable to make out the almost two hundred soldiers and dozen carriers hidden in the shadows beyond the ship they were about to hijack. If he couldn’t see them, knowing where they waited, the ship’s crew didn’t have a hope.

  A few late workers had watched them speed by with those emotionless reptilian stares, but none dared question their right to be at the spaceport, let alone be heavily armed in the process. Of course, it was doubtful any of the Gwangar’s low-born subjects spoke either Anglic or Danjori, and none of the former slaves could master the sibilant sounds of the Garadan tongue.

  Night had fallen hours earlier, and Sergeant Gesh had reported that all activity around the ship had ceased. A few crew members had wandered off towards town, but other than a bored guard at the top of the ramp, nothing was stirring as far as the eye could see. This close to what passed for civilization, nocturnal creatures kept quiet, and the only sound, apart from Decker’s skimmer detachment, came from a desultory breeze.

  They approached the ship from the side, out of sight of the sentry, banking over at the last minute to send the skimmers up the ramp. Before the startled guard had time to react, Decker jumped off the top of his vehicle, blaster drawn and ready.

  “Open the hatch son, and no one gets hurt,” he growled, knowing that he made a terrifying sight for a man whose only concern seconds before was reaching the end of his watch without falling asleep.

  “W-what is this?” He managed to stammer out as he instinctively raised his hands above his head.

  “We’re your outbound cargo, and we’re ready to load.” Zack poked the man with the barrel of his gun. “Open the hatch.”

  “That’ll trigger a warning on the bridge,” the spacer replied, still not moving.

  Decker reached out and grabbed him by the front of his coveralls.

  “I’m not going to ask again.”

  With fumbling gestures, the man traced a pattern on a screen set into the wall at the top of the ramp. Almost immediately, the massive door split in two, each half sliding to one side, revealing the cavernous main hold beyond.

  “Ramp, this is the bridge,” a bored voice rang out from seemingly within the screen, “why did you open the main hatch?”

  Zack shook his head at the sentry, warning him not to answer as two of his soldiers quickly tied him up. When the door leaves had fully retracted, the skimmers sped into the hold and disgorged the boarding party.

  With methodical precision, the platoon split into squads, each dedicated to the seizure of a particular area of the ship: engineering, crew quarters, environmental systems and most importantly, the bridge, Zack’s own objective.

  A very confused human female looked up at Decker from the depths of an old, worn-out command chair as he burst into the compartment. At the sight of his weapon, she raised her hands, frightened eyes open wide.

  “Where’s your captain?”

  She considered the question for a few seconds and then nodded towards a door at the back of the bridge. Moments later, a half-awake grey-haired man stumbled out of the cabin, prodded by Lora Cyone’s gun. Unlike the woman who’d been sitting the harbor watch, his eyes did not shine with fear once he’d taken in the strange sight of armed, battledress-clad soldiers on his ship.

  “What do you pirates want?” He asked angrily. “I’ve got nothing on board worth stealing, and you’ll never get away with it anyhow. The Chuluk military will mow you down.”

  Decker chuckled, raising his visor to show his face.

  “As far as the Gwangar of Chuluk and his army are concerned, we’re still working for them. But we’re not pirates, captain. We’re escaped slave soldiers looking for a way home. Like I told your man at the ramp, we’re your outbound cargo, and we’re ready to load.”

  The spacer stared at Zack with amazed disbelief.

  “Escaped slave soldiers, human ones at that? It’s truly a wondrous universe. And where’s home?”

  “Anywhere that’s under the protection of the Commonwealth Fleet. My name is Zachary T. Decker, late of the Commonwealth Marine Corps, and for my sins, the commanding officer of what my troops have chosen to call Decker’s Demons.”

  “You’re very far from home, Mister Decker. What makes you think I’ll take you there? I doubt you can sail this ship yourselves. Otherwise, my crew and I would likely be bleeding our last out on the deck right now.”

  Zack raised his blaster to eye level.

  “This, for starters. I’ve got almost two hundred more of them, and each comes with its own highly trained soldier, eager to get as far away as possible from the Atabek of Danjor, our former owner.”

  The captain snorted derisively.

  “Guns won’t buy you a passage that long. You do understand that you’re looking at weeks of travel on a ship that isn’t rigged for so many passengers.”

  “Perhaps, captain.” Decker nodded agreeably. “But here’s an offer you might want to consider. My unit is fully equipped, including heavy weapons, and we have over a dozen solid combat skimmers. Once we reach the Commonwealth, we won’t need our gear anymore. It’ll be all yours, and you know as well as I do that you can make a healthy profit with it in the badlands.”

  The man considered Decker in silence, his eyes betraying nascent interest as he calculated the benefits of the offer against the cost of transporting escapees across so many light years. The sight gave the ex-Marine renewed hope. Deep space traders understood profit and this one was no exception. It was time to sweeten the pot and seal the deal.

  “There’s another inducement,” Zack said when the spacer didn’t reply. “The Fleet offers a bounty for each human returned from slavery. I don’t know that they’ll apply it to Nelvans, but I’ve got a good hundred or so Commonwealthers in my ranks. If you negotiate it right, you might even be able to get your fuel costs repaid.”

  “And what if I refuse to carry you?”

  “Then I’ll make the same proposal to your first officer.”

  A flare of anger briefly crossed the captain’s eyes as he digested the implied threat.

  “I suppose you would do that,” he replied grudgingly.

  “We’re armed, and we’re desperate. It’s not a good combination from your point of view. I’ll just throw this out for good measure, in case you’re thinking of a double-cross. I spent a fair amount of time working an armed civilian freighter as gunner and security officer. In fact, I’m probably still on the Merchant Guild rolls as an esteemed member. I’ve also got two dozen ex-Navy and Marine types in my outfit. We might not be savvy enou
gh to sail your ship through the Coalsack, but we can figure out if we’re being hoodwinked.”

  “I guess you leave me no choice, Mister Decker.” The merchant held out his hand reluctantly. “You have yourself a deal: all of your equipment, plus the Fleet bounty the moment I transfer you and your unit to Commonwealth authorities. Though how we’re going to manage with so many people on board is something I’ll have to discuss with my officers.”

  “Glad that you’ve seen reason, captain...”

  “Berand, Dirk Berand. Welcome aboard Dragonfly, I suppose.”

  Zack flicked on his radio.

  “Decker to all call signs. It’s boarding time.”

  With a sigh of resignation, Berand turned to the woman still sitting in the command chair, a look of pure astonishment on her face.

  “Jenny, rouse the bosun. He’ll have to show these fine soldiers how to secure their skimmers so they don’t go bouncing all over the hold when we lift. Then, recall the liberty parties and have the purser figure out where we’ll be bunking up to two hundred passengers.”

  “We come with our own bedrolls, captain,” Decker interjected. “We can turn any cargo hold into useable barracks.”

  “Sure,” he nodded, “but you’ll need facilities, and we’re not exactly over-endowed in that respect. I suppose you’ll be sticking to me like a bad odor, speaking of facilities?”

  Zack grinned.

  “Of course I will, captain. You know how it is: trust but verify.”

  Berand nodded again.

  “Sure, though I wonder which gods I pissed off to deserve this. As if being forced to trade on the far side of the nebula wasn’t enough punishment.”

  “So you are from what I call home.”

  “Yup, though we’re based out of the Yotai system on a route that connects the Commonwealth frontiers with the trans-Coalsack sector.”

  “Dangerous space.”

  “We have our guns and our engines to keep us out of trouble.”

  “And now you have a two-hundred strong security force as well.” Decker’s grin turned into a fierce smile.

  “If it gets to the point where you’re needed, we’re probably well up the creek, and I don’t aim to let things go that far.”

  *

  By the time a misty dawn unfolded over Chuluk, Decker’s Demons were stowed away, secured and beginning to grumble at the delay in lifting off. Though Zack had spent the rest of the night shadowing Berand while Jase Resson worked with the ship’s purser and Lora Cyone made a nuisance of herself with the bosun, the crew of Dragonfly had accepted the change in cargo and destination with the calm stoicism of deep space traders. They were twenty-five in all, and when Decker remarked on the small size, Berand had shrugged philosophically.

  “Finding honest crew ready to sail in these parts costs a premium over the standard pay rates. It’s cheaper to automate what you can.”

  He handed Decker a mug of real coffee, its aroma instantly triggering an orgy of anticipation in his salivary glands. It was ambrosia to taste buds long since inured to the bitterness of kahvass and he said as much.

  “We get ours at Yotai, shipped in from Earth. Costs a pretty penny. I tried to find some demand for it in these parts, but even the Nelvans, who are apparently as human as you or me, didn’t cotton to the taste, so now I carry enough for the crew. If you have inveterate coffee drinkers in your unit, Mister Decker, we’ll run out very quickly, and I’ll become very cranky.”

  “Most of my folks who drank the stuff before they were taken have been cut off for so long, they’ve probably developed tastes more akin to the Nelvans, so no fear. Now if you have Shrehari Ale on board, that could become a problem.”

  Berand snorted.

  “Sorry, my friend. Dragonfly is a dry ship. I’ve had too many bad runs with drunken crew in the early days. If we get a reiver on our tail, one soused bosun’s mate could spell the difference between escape and disaster.”

  Decker made a small grimace but nodded approvingly.

  “Probably just as well. After years of abstinence, I figure a mere whiff of booze would set my troops on a massive bender.”

  “Captain,” Jenny Marsh’s high-pitched voice cut through the thrum of a starship waiting for permission to lift off. “Chuluk control has given us their blessing, though they express polite puzzlement at our not taking on the planned cargo.”

  “Tell them we got new orders,” he replied. “Anyone living under a piece of work like the Gwangar should know about capricious superiors. We’re going to have to continue this conversation later, Mister Decker. Finish your coffee. I’d rather not chance hot liquid sloshing around the bridge if we catch some bad turbulence in the upper atmosphere.”

  The ex-Marine nodded once and drained his cup.

  “Tell you what, captain. This is going to be a long trip, and I can only stand being called Mister Decker so often. Reminds me too much of my old man and he didn’t like me enlisting in the first place. Zack’ll do fine between us.”

  “I was about to reply that you can keep calling me ‘captain’, but that would have been churlish. Dirk will do for me, but don’t take it that we’re buddies. I’m still thoroughly pissed at being hijacked, even if the trip will make us a good enough profit, now that I’ve seen the quality of your gear.”

  “Understood, Dirk.” Zack smiled. “And thanks for allowing me on the bridge whenever I want.”

  “It’s not like I had much choice, boyo,” Berand nodded at the blaster strapped to Decker’s hip, “but you’re welcome nonetheless.”

  “Just out of curiosity,” he said taking the command chair from the first officer, “what was it you were doing for the Gwangar of Chuluk?”

  “Getting rid of an infestation. Unfortunately, the infestation got rid of most of my unit. Decker’s Demons are all that’s left.”

  “An infestation of what exactly?”

  “Shrehari.”

  While a stunned Berand digested the revelation, Zack strapped himself into the gunnery seat, feeling eerily at home even though it didn’t look much like the one on Shokoten. He ran his fingers over the console, instinctively activating the pre-launch check of Dragonfly’s weaponry and sensors. What he saw made him smile with appreciation. It was indeed well armed.

  A siren reverberated through the freighter, followed by the first officer’s voice ordering all crew to secure for launch and all passengers to lie down on their bedrolls. A low, nerve-grating rumble began in the bowels of the ship, followed soon after by an alarming lurch and a feeling akin to a heavy weight bearing down on the humans as thrusters pushed them free of the tarmac and straight up into the gray clouds. Within moments, Chuluk vanished from sight and then sunshine, the first Zack had seen since arriving on Garada, bathed the hull.

  Soon, the sky turned purple and then black while the pressure eased as artificial gravity replaced the pull of the planet. A brief exchange with the primitive orbital control station and Dragonfly broke away, leaving the Gwangar to deal with the Shrehari invaders himself, and good luck to him as far as Zack was concerned.

  Though he felt a stab of regret when he remembered the hundreds of dead slowly rotting north of the Gandabeg Mountains, they were alive and headed for home where he could collect the debt he was owed. The debt for a life extinguished so brutally, and another life sold into slavery. No refuge was secure enough to protect Harmon Amali from his vengeance.

  Eighteen

  “I don’t know how you Marines do it.” Jase Resson wiped the sweat from his brow with an already damp cloth. “Living for weeks on end in a tin can, using the strangest nooks and crannies to keep in shape.”

  “Nothing to it,” Decker replied with a pleased smirk. “You just have to imagine you’re training to take over the red light district in Niew-Amsterdam.”

  The XO snorted, eyes following the troopers of Decker’s Demons as they raced through the hold along a parkour that Decker had laid out among the packed vehicles. Boredom was the worst enemy in deep space, bu
t lack of exercise came a close second.

  “That’s the other thing with jarheads. Sex seems to be the first and only thing on your mind.”

  “Like a wise man once said,” Zack replied with mock solemnity, “a man who won’t fuck, won’t fight.”

  “In that case, you should be a one man army, the way you’ve been going at it with Lora since we lifted off.” He jerked his chin towards Cyone, who was starting her run through the parkour.

  “Jealous?”

  “Nah, but well done, Zack, going where few men have gone before.”

  “She’s not that scary.”

  “Frightens the pants off me, if you want the truth. You know that none of the troops dare bring back broken ordnance. Our Captain Cyone’s basilisk stare is more than they want to face.”

  “She does love her weaponry,” Zack nodded agreeably.

  “And yours too,” Resson added, laughing.

  “Excellent parkour,” a gruff voice boomed behind them. “No doubt the laggards will complain about all the sprains and bruises, but it’s the best idea I’ve seen for keeping fit during a long crossing.”

  The two officers turned around as a sweating Lieutenant Kidder skipped off the top of a logistics skimmer, rivulets of perspiration running down his face.

  “I had an even better idea,” Zack said struggling to keep a straight face, “but it involved convincing the crew to open the airlocks during FTL travel.”

  “You may safely keep that one to yourself, sir,” Kidder replied, leaning over to place his hands on his knees while he fought to recover his breath. “Some of us aren’t getting any younger, and that includes you.”

  “Any idea how much longer on this leg?” Resson asked.

  “A few hours at best,” Zack replied, straightening his back with a quick grimace. Kidder hadn’t been wrong with his quip about age. “We should emerge to fix our leg through the nebula before the end of the watch, if not earlier, then it’ll be a clear run to the Peralka system. Captain Berand said we’ll need to stop there and buy new parts for the environmental recyclers. Dragonfly wasn’t built to carry this many eating, breathing and crapping humans. Plus we need food. Lora says we’re within a few days of going down to ratpacks.”