by PP Corcoran
“I have a little side-project in mind,” said Alexis. “I need you to find something.” Alexis could see Alastair’s intrigue transform into open-mouthed surprise as she added, “And then steal it!”
* * *
“She wants us to do what?” exclaimed Jamie Sinclair, his face flushed as red as the hair on his head. Jamie’s words caused several heads to turn in the direction of the three most senior officers of the Scorpions clustered around a table in the corner of the mess hall.
One look at the stern faces of First Sergeants Ethan Croll and Isla Stuart, sitting at an adjacent table, ensured those heads invariably found something more interesting to do in a hurry.
Alastair Sinclair let out a small sigh as he repeated himself. “For those of us who are obviously hard of hearing or were not listening the first time, we are going to locate and steal an unknown number of Raknar and experimental guild power sources which, if the rumors are true, will allow them to fight at their full potential for an unlimited time.”
“This is a joke, right?” asked Tim Buchanan from the seat beside the younger Sinclair.
A trace of a grin hidden quickly by a raised coffee mug only added to Jamie Sinclair’s consternation and, Tim noticed, Alastair’s amusement. Alastair eyed his youngest son through the steam rising from his coffee. Jamie had inherited his mother’s quick temper which, in his childhood, had led to many a bruising confrontation with his elder brother Charles. In his teens, his temper had seen him suffer more bruising, though this time it had been at the hands of experienced mercs employed by Alastair to train his boys for their future careers in the Scorpions. Slowly but surely, Jamie learned to curb his rush to anger, instead he let the more logical and calmer side of his brain guide him. Even so, every now and then something would prick him just the wrong way and, in a flash, traits of his mother would surface.
Alastair sat back, watching the flash of anger rapidly dissipate as Jamie marshaled his inner Zen. The older Sinclair winked conspiratorially at Tim who raised his own mug in mock salute. An evil smile formed on the lips of Jamie Sinclair as his brain worked the problem.
“Oh yeah, we can do this. It’s going to take a bit of planning and stones the size of a mountain to pull off, but I think we can do this,” Jamie said. That’s when Alastair dropped his second bombshell.
“Not ‘we’ son—you.”
Jamie’s head flicked sideways from his father to Tim and back to his father in confusion. Alastair put down his coffee, resting his elbows on the table, and pointed one large, fat finger at Jamie as he spoke. “You are to take Zulu Company and secure as many Raknar as you can. Alexis Cromwell has assured me you have the entire resources of not only the Winged Hussars available to you, but those of Asbaran Solutions and Cartwright’s Cavaliers also.” Alastair let out an unexpected chuckle. “Not that you are going to need them. Cartwright, Shirazi, Cromwell, and their ilk seem to think that the answer to any problem is to fling shit loads of firepower at it—we know better.”
“Non Vi Sed Arte,” said Tim proudly.
“Not by strength, by guile,” Jamie interpreted the Latin motto of the Scorpions.
“Meanwhile,” said Alastair, “I, and my trusty sidekick here,” a casual nod indicated he meant Tim, “will track down these experimental guild power sources.”
Tim’s lips thinned as he chewed on his lower lip for a moment before clicking his fingers as a thought came to him. “You know, Colonel, if there is anybody able to give us the low down on a guild site they are trying to keep below the radar, its Deeral.”
“That underhanded piece of Kirex turd? He is one Flatar I would never tire of kicking,” stated Jamie with a face like he had eaten something sour.
“Yeah, if Zeorta, his Tortantula partner, ever let you get that close,” joked Alastair. In all his dealings with Deeral, the diminutive furry chipmunk-like Flatar had never once been without his overly aggressive partner. And an angry Tortantula was not something you wanted to be near.
“True, Deeral is not the most trustworthy of individuals,” agreed Tim, getting the conversation back on track, “but, as an information broker, he has never let us down—if the money was right.”
“Money is not something we have to worry about on this job,” replied Alastair, producing two Yacks from his breast pocket and handing one to Jamie, who took a glance at the small, Universal Account Access Card—the Yack—before slipping it into his own pocket. “The Four Horsemen have been good enough to give us an open-ended line of credit.”
Jamie let out a low whistle. “Wow, when you said money was no object you meant it.”
“And you’re going to need it, son. Aunt Kate and the Salamanca will take you as far as Waylan Station in the Centaur region, but from there you’re on your own.”
“What about us?” asked Tim.
“Alexis Cromwell has kindly lent us a frigate—the EMS Glambring—which, Alexis assures me, has a solid captain and crew. And, before you ask...” Alastair saw the imminent question on Tim’s lips. “I will be in command and you my second.” Tim’s closing jaw showed Alastair that he had satisfied the anticipated query. The older Sinclair understood that a clear chain of command was essential, and it was one of the things he had insisted on when Alexis had suggested the Scorpions use one of her ships rather than a merchantman like the Salamanca. Having said that, Alastair had taken on board one of Alexis’ other suggestions. A suggestion which he knew Tim would not be too happy about.
“I also need you to select a trooper for a close protection position,” said Alastair.
Tim didn’t hesitate. “Corporal Vega. Solid, dependable, thinks on his feet, and damn good in a fight.”
In his head, the face of the man who had sat in his office not so many days ago came to Alastair. Corporal Jonny Vega had been with Tim on the initial contract to Galax, so Tim had first-hand experience with his skills as a merc, but also of another factor crucial to a good Close Protection post. The ability to be affable with your client while standing your ground when called for. If Tim was happy Vega was the man for the job, then Vega it was.
“Why do we need a CP trooper?” asked Tim warily.
A large, toothy grin split Alastair’s face. “Did I forget to mention we are taking a civilian expert with us?” Tim’s protest was cut short as Alastair stood, and Tim and Charlie sprang to their feet. The meeting was over; they had their orders.
“We ship out at zero six hundred hours tomorrow, so I shan’t delay you any further. I’m sure you both have lots to be taking care of.”
In unison, Tim and Jamie braced to attention with a simple, “Sir,” before spinning about and heading for the mess hall exit. As they passed Croll and Stuart, the first sergeants slipped into step one pace behind. Alastair watched them go before retaking his seat. Cradling his still-hot coffee, he closed his eyes and, to the casual observer, appeared to be a man marshaling his thoughts. In truth, he was constructing a third set of orders for transmission via his pinplants to Kate Preissman. He had plans for her and the Salamanca once they had completed their task of transporting Jamie and Zulu Company to Waylan Station.
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
Let’s Get This Show On The Road
Alastair Sinclair stepped gingerly from the travellator which had carried him to one of the seemingly endless number of docking berths along the outer skin of Prime Base. Although this berth was in what should have been one of the quieter areas of Prime Base, there was a steady flow of Winged Hussars personnel and equipment moving purposefully between the various docks.
Through the throng, Alastair caught sight of the tanned Scorpion uniform of Tim Buchanan waiting impatiently for him alongside the access doors leading to the berth where his new ship awaited. The Salamanca had departed for Waylan Station two hours earlier, carrying Jamie Sinclair and the troopers of Zulu Company on their strand of the mission, and Alastair staunchly refused to linger on the thought that he had sent his youngest son into harm’s way without know
ing the fate of his eldest, Charlie. Both men were experienced commanders, fully capable of looking after themselves.
“Glad you could make it,” said Tim, failing to notice his colonel’s attention lay elsewhere. “Things have gotten really busy around here, and Captain Kothoo is eager to get underway.”
“Well, let’s go take a look at this ship Commander Cromwell has graciously allowed us to borrow.”
“I think you will be suitably impressed,” replied Tim, as an impish smile played upon his lips. Forestalling anything Alastair may have been about to say, Tim turned, tapping the berth access controls. Motors whined as the heavy door split and retracted into walls. With a grand sweeping gesture of one arm, Tim bade Alastair enter the berth. With a half-joking scowl, Alastair strode past his friend, wishing he would sometimes take things seriously. All thoughts of reprimanding Tim disappeared as Alastair set eyes upon EMS Glambring for the first time. Coming to a halt, Alastair allowed his eyes to trace the superstructure of the Legend-class escort frigate. The ship’s specs that the Scorpions’ commander had reviewed in his office the day before did not do the sleek warship justice. Ninety-six meters long, its dual fusion torches could push the Glambring along at a maximum fifteen Gs. Her primary weapons were three one-hundred-megawatt lasers oriented for forward or rear fire primarily, along with a single forward missile tube, and a multiphase shield array. In anybody’s book, the Glambring was a force to be reckoned with.
“Not too scrappy eh, Colonel?” said Tim, bringing Alastair back to the world.
“Are our people aboard yet?” asked Alastair.
“Aboard and settling in. The Hussar Marine complement were not too happy about being kicked off to make room for us, but I understand they cheered up when they were told Commander Cromwell had assigned them to her own ship for the operation at Karma.”
Alastair caught sight of a small knot of people gathering around the Glambring’s forward personnel lock. “Looks like my reception committee. Shall we?” Flanked by Tim, Alastair headed in the group’s direction. As he got closer he recognized the large frame of Corporal Jonny Vega standing at parade rest, apparently completely at ease with his surroundings. Alastair knew better. The corporal wore tan-colored ballistic body armor—the match of his Scorpions’ uniform—and an ugly black PS6 People Stopper which sat in its holster at his waist. Alastair gave Vega an approving nod as he stopped in front of the group.
“Colonel Sinclair,” said Tim formally. “This is Captain Kothoo, Commander of EMS Glambring.”
The elSha captain may only have been ninety centimeters tall, but he oozed command confidence. Having graduated from the Hussar’s naval warfare college, Alastair reminded himself that the diminutive elSha had earned his current position.
“Captain,” said Alastair respectfully. “I look forward to working with you.”
“And I you, Colonel.” The reptile-like elSha cocked his head as if to ascertain Alastair’s ilk, and, after a few seconds, the small head returned to vertical. “Commander Cromwell speaks highly of you. My ship and its crew are at your disposal. Where you lead, I shall follow.”
Alastair’s lips formed a thin smile. The elSha captain had, in one eloquent sentence, neatly sidestepped any issue of who was in command of this mission, making what could have been a thorny problem disappear before it even arose. Switching his attention to the next person in the small reception party, Alastair found himself confronted by an outstretched hand which he automatically grasped and shook. The owner of the hand smiled a blinding smile at him while a pair of jade-green eyes, which seemed to sparkle playfully, captivated his full attention. Alastair shook himself mentally, tearing his gaze away from the hypnotizing eyes to assess their owner properly. Before him stood a Human female of obvious East Asian extraction. Slight of frame, though you would never have guessed it by the way she had returned Alastair’s strong handshake with one of her own, and jet-black hair pulled back from her face and tied in a bun. She wore a jacket and pants, with more pockets than Alastair could count, colored the same green as her intense eyes.
Tim leaned in, mouth beginning to form words, only to be cut off by the petite woman. “I am fully capable of remembering my own name, thank you, Captain—” The woman’s eyes searched his uniform until they alighted on Tim’s name tag, “Buchanan.” Tim’s mouth closed with an audible click, and Alastair fought hard to suppress a laugh which he converted to a cough into his hand, while giving Tim, whose cheeks had begun to flush red, a knowing glance.
“Doctor Anna May Wong,” the woman said, introducing herself while blatantly ignoring Tim.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Wong—”
“Doctor Wong, Colonel. I hold doctorates in a half-dozen fields of physics, energy generation, and engineering. In fact,” she thumbed in the direction of the warship behind her, “the Glambring has my latest design powering her,” Anna ploughed on with barely a breath. “And this is my assistant, Engineer Larras.”
Beside Anna, a four-foot-long millipede reared up, it’s elongated, flattened segments bent smoothly, and its front legs clicked together in welcome as the Jeha gave Alastair a short, curt bow which Alastair returned. Satisfied, the Jeha lowered itself until all of its feet were back on deck. A fleeting thought passed through Alastair’s mind, “A good thing you’re on board, we’re going to need all the engineering skills available where we’re going.” In fact, Doctor Wong and her Jeha assistant were crucial to the success of the mission, hence the presence of the heavily-armed Corporal Vega. Speaking of which...
“Perhaps, Captain Buchanan, you would like to explain Corporal Vega’s presence here.” Alastair couldn’t help but notice Doctor Wong’s wary look in the direction of the Scorpion trooper. Tim didn’t miss it either and grasped his opportunity to needle the doctor.
“Of course, sir. As Doctor Wong so eloquently explained, she is an expert in all things power-plant, and our mission is to secure energy sources capable of powering Raknar, therefore it seems only prudent to ensure her safety.” Tim gestured toward the trooper. “Hence, Corporal Vega here, will become your constant shadow. Everywhere you go he will go—”
“Now just one damn second—” blustered Anna. “No way am I having some over-muscled, thick-skulled gorilla—”
Alastair held up an open-palmed hand and cut Anna’s furor off mid-sentence. “Corporal Vega’s presence, Doctor Wong, is non-negotiable. No Corporal Vega, no Doctor Wong on this mission.”
Anna took a calming breath while wringing her hands in front of her. After a few moments she loudly exhaled, and her features returned to their previous state of calm. Gracing Alastair with a blinding smile she said, “Your wish is my command, Colonel.” Turning to Vega, she playfully slapped his arm saying, “Let’s go, King Kong.” And with that, she headed up the ramp into the Glambring; Larras, the Jeha engineer, and Vega in tow.
A short, sharp laugh from Captain Kothoo surprised Alastair. “You’ve got your hands full there, Colonel. If you’ll excuse me, I must see to final preparations before launch.”
“Of course, Captain,” said Alastair. The elSha made his way back into his ship already deep in discussion with someone over his comms link.
“Well this is going to be fun,” intoned Tim sarcastically.
“Look at it this way, Tim,” Alastair said with a grin, “if Vega shoots Doctor Wong before we get where we are going, we can all turnaround and come home. Now, why don’t you show me where I can store my gear, and we can get this show on the road.”
* * *
With a smoothness that belied the power that was required to complete the action, the Glambring maneuvered itself clear of Prime Base. Once it had reached a safe distance, the frigate slowed, allowing the ship’s two dropships to catch up.
“Dropships secure, Captain.”
Captain Kothoo acknowledged the report absentmindedly as he concentrated on the navigation display. In the space around Prime Base, the staggering firepower of the Winged Hussars was massing, readying itself fo
r the operation to free their comrades held captive by forces loyal to General Peepo.
“Well, there’s something you don’t see every day,” said Alastair, as his repeater display showed the enhanced view from one of the Glambring’s exterior cameras.
Kothoo depressed a pedal with one foot, spinning his chair to face Alastair while remaining securely strapped in. “I have not seen a mobilization like this in my lifetime, Colonel. I fear that this is only a sign of what is to come.”
The elSha’s observation wiped away any levity or wonder Alastair may have had at the sight of so many tons of warship readying for battle. In its place, he now felt a burgeoning sense of dread.
Kothoo’s years among Humans had made him adept at recognizing Human facial expressions, so without another word he spun his chair once more to face forward, returning his gaze to the navigation Tri-V, double-checking the course which Glambring’s navigator had plotted to the stargate and onward to Ralla Station.
Alastair felt the familiar pressure of acceleration push him back into his padded seat as the Glambring came under power, like the thoroughbred racehorse that she was. Turning his head to the left, his eyes hovered over the lithe figure of Anna May Wong, her blank expression belied the furious activity going on behind it as, through her pinplants, she constantly monitored every system aboard ship. No doubt, thought Alastair, her assistant Larras is doing the same thing from Engineering. Behind Anna, strapped into a makeshift jump seat, Vega sat maintaining his silent vigil.
Accessing his own pinplants, Alastair checked on the status of his troopers sequestered away in Glambring’s Marine spaces. Each Scorpion troopers’ name was tinged in the green ‘good to go’ color. Reassured, Alastair accessed the ship’s exterior cameras again, forcing himself to relax and enjoy the view. For now, he was only a passenger; however, things would get interesting when they reached Ralla.
