by Terry Mixon
He raised an eyebrow. “You think you can knock heads in person?”
“I’ll bet I can. Some of these people have to understand the risks of what’s going on. I’m sure you’ve already gotten word of what happened at Saturn. They ambushed Blackhawk Station in a very similar manner to how they almost did the last time.
“This time, they made it in and locked everything down. They’re bringing in their fleet to fuel up, and that means an attack deeper into the system isn’t too far away. They’ve trashed Mars, and Earth is in disarray. How juicy of a target does that make the Jovian system?”
“But they don’t need to,” Michelle objected. “They’ve already declared their neutrality. Why pick a fight that you don’t need to?”
“The Jovian systems can change their minds any time they choose,” Kernsky said. “There are a lot of ships in Jovian space. The OWA has to realize that the only chance they have of outright victory is to take them out along with the Commonwealth.
“There’s an old Earth saying by Benjamin Franklin: ‘We must, indeed, all hang together or, most assuredly, we shall all hang separately.’ The longer they wait to deal with the Mercenary Guild and the various forces in the Jovian system, the better the chances are that their enemies will realize their peril and make common cause. It’s going to take everything we have, combined with what Fleet has left, to deal with the OWA.”
Brad nodded. “I got word just before I came down that Task Group Immortal showed up at Saturn. This is going to be a major push when they launch their attack. The only Fleet forces that can meet them are mine, and even with every ship I can scare up here, I’m going to come up short.
“Sara, I want your honest opinion. Do you think you can convince the Mercenary Guild to commit to an overriding contract?”
The redhead shrugged. “I don’t know. Two or three of the directors? Yes. One is a certain no vote, and I’m sure he’s in the OWA’s pocket. The last vote is a wildcard. That’s why I need to be there in person to make our case.
“What about the Jovian governments? Do you think you can bring them around, Madrid? If we don’t get everyone onto the same page, it won’t matter whether or not the Mercenary Guild joins you.”
“I still have to make a call,” he said. “I doubt it’s going to be easy, but I’ve got to try. I hope you’re packed, because we need to get a move on. As soon as First Fleet is ready to go, I’m setting out for Io.”
“I’m packed and ready to go, along with my staff. If you’ve got room, I’ll ride back up with you.”
Once he was back aboard his cruiser, Brad retired to his office and composed a message to Governor Ilene Johnson of Io. He’d helped rescue her son from slavers back when he’d started out as a mercenary, and Jack Mantruso—though he’d been called Jack Mader then—had once been her special assistant.
If anyone was willing to give him a chance, it would be her.
As soon as he was facing the camera on his desk, he started recording.
“Governor Johnson, this is Brad Madrid. I realize that we’ve settled all our debts, but I need to impose on you for a favor. By now you’ve heard about Blackhawk Station. You know who leads the OWA better than anyone alive, including me. You have to know he’ll come for Jupiter.
“The Jovian governments are right to be angry with the Commonwealth, but you can’t let your righteous indignation become a suicide pact. You know me. You know that I’m one of you. Can you get me a hearing with the other leaders where I can try to at least convince them to see the threat?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I sure hope so, because I’m leaving Mars with my fleet in a few hours. I can’t let that bastard come for you without fighting him. As they say, it’s always easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission, but I still hope to have your blessing to at least be there when the hammer falls. Madrid out.”
Almost as soon as he’d sent the message, there was a rap at his office door. A Marine stuck her head in. “Commodore Bailey to see you, Admiral.”
“Send her in.”
A grim-faced Bailey strode into his office a few moments later. “Do you have any booze? I need to wash the nasty taste out of my mouth.”
He gestured toward the small bar that had come with his office. “Pour me something as well.”
She chuckled as she poured two glasses full of amber liquid. That was more than three shots, so he’d be careful to sip his slowly.
Once she’d handed him his glass, she took a seat across his desk and downed half of hers. “I think I have the basic outlines of what happened. I had to pretend to make a few salutary examples before the buggers started talking to save themselves from their own supposed summary executions.
“They were all compromised one way or the other or weren’t even Fleet to begin with. Whoever managed this used every string she could to get as many people on board the ships of the Martian Squadron for this. None of them really knew there would be others. In fact, only the leaders knew they would be seizing Fleet ships and when.”
Brad took a sip of his whisky and nodded. “Operational security would be important with something like this. You said they had people from outside of Fleet? How did that work?”
“Boarding parties led by actual Fleet officers. If they didn’t have enough people on a ship to take it over, they brought in help at the last second. Almost none of them knew what was planned, and by the time the shooting started, it was far too late to object that it wasn’t what they were hired for.
“Which, by the way, was piracy. Each group was told they were taking over a merchant ship. Boy, were they surprised when they found out the truth. Some of them fought back when they did—even though they were willing to be pirates, they had some kind of soul. Or sense of self-preservation, I suppose. I made notes when I found any of that kind.”
None of that really surprised Brad. He’d known all along that it had to be something like that. He agreed with Bailey that whoever had orchestrated the attack had been damned good.
“Did we get any of the leadership?”
She shook her head. “No. None of the people behind the attack participated in it. This was to sow chaos, not actually win the fight. They didn’t care what happened, so long as Fleet ships were damaged or destroyed.”
He nodded. “We’ll let Fleet security handle the prisoners. We have more important fish to fry. Are your ships ready to move out?”
“As ready as they can be without a few weeks in a shipyard. We’ll be able to make some repairs on the way to Jupiter. That is where we’re going, isn’t it?”
“Damned straight. I expect to get the same response from the rest of the ships in the next few hours. As soon as we’re done rearming, we’ll leave for Io.”
Chapter Sixteen
It took six days of wrangling and shouting between various parties in the Jovian system, with Governor Johnson playing referee, before they finally accepted the inevitable and agreed that they would allow him to come to Io and that they would meet to hear what he had to say.
That didn’t mean they were happy about it. Or that they’d be easy to convince about joining forces with his fleet.
Sara Kernsky seemed to be having just about as much luck herding the Mercenary Guild director-level Factors into giving her a hearing, too. She didn’t give Brad any details, but her fury couldn’t be fully hidden at mealtimes.
Her anger boiled over at dinner that night. It was a semi-private affair with Brad, Michelle and Captain Alycia Nah in attendance.
“These people shouldn’t be running a damned garbage scow, much less the damned Mercenary Guild,” Kernsky growled into her wine. “It’s like arguing with kindergarteners.”
“Is it truly so bad?” Nah asked. “Surely, they can at least accept the need to discuss whether an overriding contract is needed in a civil manner.”
Kernsky laughed without the slightest bit of humor. “You’d think, but it seems they like to fight just as much as some of our mercenaries. Three are in favor of the
idea, though one of them is wavering, one of them is completely against it, and the last one won’t commit and keeps dodging the meetings.”
“This is kind of a big deal,” Michelle said in a soothing voice. “It’s not supposed to be something that happens often or easily.”
“But sticking one’s fingers in one’s ears and saying ‘nah nah nah’ when the end of the world is looming isn’t rational,” Kernsky retorted.
She then inclined her head toward Brad’s flag captain. “No offense, Captain Nah.”
“It’s a quirk of language that I’m more than familiar with,” the Fleet officer said in a wry tone. “Thankfully, I hear it less often as I get older, so I’ll let it pass this once. Do you think the one no vote is in the OWA’s pocket?”
“Damned right I do. I just have no way of proving it, and without clear evidence of his wrongdoing, we can’t eject him from the board. That means we’ll have to convince the last person, Gustave Kutschinski, to actually come to the meetings and approve the overriding contract.”
“You might want to see if he needs protection,” Brad said. “It’s possible the OWA is threatening him or his family. The Cadre certainly liked that tactic.”
She nodded. “The thought occurred to me and I’ve had some people looking around. As far as I can tell, his wife and twin daughters are safe and sound. We’ve seen them moving around in public, with a set of guards that we know to be mercenaries he uses for personal protection.
“They don’t seem like they’re being held against their will, but he’s out much less often. He stays home and rarely appears in public. It’s out of character and worries me.”
That was a mystery, Brad conceded. “I suppose we’ll have to sort that out once we get him into the Guild Hall to talk about the overriding contract.
“For my part, I think Governor Johnson has convinced the rest of the governmental leaders to be on Io for the meeting with me. I’m not sure which one of these competing gatherings needs to happen first.”
“The politicians,” Michelle said promptly. “They have bigger egos. If you slight them by meeting the mercenaries first, they’ll fight you harder.”
“I have to agree,” Kernsky said. “With so many political leaders at hand, the directors won’t be able to take offense, even if they’re miffed. I would, however, meet with the Guild the same day, if you can manage it. Time matters.”
“I wish we could get there faster,” Brad grumbled. “None of these problems is easy to deal with at a distance. And now that the Agency has reports that the damned Lord Protector is at Saturn and on board his stolen battleship, I think we can all safely assume that it won’t be long before he has his attack force in order and makes his move.”
“Wishing won’t get us to Io faster,” his wife said. “Or make dealing with recalcitrant mercenaries or politicians any easier. I know that you have to worry about what’s going on there, but I’m tired of rehashing it over every meal. Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.”
Brad nodded and let his wife move the topic of discussion to something less depressing or apocalyptic. He’d have another week to fret over the meetings on Io. It wouldn’t help him to develop an ulcer in the meantime.
“Approaching Io space,” one of his staffers said. “All ships report battle readiness.”
While Brad didn’t expect anyone to ambush his forces there, and they couldn’t detect any potential enemy formations, it paid to not take chances. He’d been attacked when he’d thought himself safe before.
His caution proved unnecessary. No stealthed vessels launched attacks. No enemy fleets appeared out of deep space. Weirdly, it disappointed him a little. He’d been spoiling for some kind of fight.
“Keep our picket ships out,” he ordered. “Come down one level in alert status for all but the ready-response ships.”
That would allow his crews to get food and still have the fleet ready for action in short order if the situation changed.
Besides, he expected the inevitable attack to come when he left his flagship. The gathering of politicians was the most likely ambush target, even with all the security precautions that were no doubt being taken. The Cadre had a long history of being able to get people into places no one thought possible, and then attacking.
He’d try to disappoint them this time, but his options were limited by geography. In this case, the fact that he was meeting the political leaders of the Jovian system on their territory. They’d already told him that he was limited in the size of his escort. There would be no overpowering show of force like had been the case back at Olympus Mons City.
Due to his rank, they’d allowed him a mixed guard of Marines and mercenaries from the Vikings. Far fewer people than he’d like, but more than he’d had on many hostile occasions. It would have to be enough.
He rose to his feet. “Inform Captain Nah that I’ll be departing as soon as we hit closest approach with Io. The Commodores will make any changes needed to the standard orders, with Commodore Bailey in overall command.”
With that delegation done, he left the flag bridge and headed for the landing bay. A heavily armed squad of Marines stood there, eyeing a similarly sized group of troopers with Colonel Saburo in charge. For his part, the mercenary ground commander was ignoring the Marines.
“Admiral,” his friend said with a grin. “We were beginning to think that you wouldn’t make it.”
Brad shook the Colonel’s hand. “You’re just mad you were stuck here while Oath of Protection and Oath of Vigilance were completed. Trust me, you didn’t miss much. There was almost no call for hand-to-hand.”
“You wound me. My father released your new ships this morning. Commodore Hunt already has them in hand and they’ve joined the rest of the Vikings. We’re ready for any trouble.”
“That’s good news, but they’re not my ships. They’re hers until all this is settled. We should all get aboard the pinnace and down to Io.”
While he went to deal with the political situation, Sara Kernsky was taking a shuttle to a different city on Io to argue her case in front of the Mercenary Guild Board. She’d call him if she had anything he needed to know.
The two groups of armored men managed to get aboard the small craft without too much bumping into one another, and Brad sat down with Saburo on one side and Major Chitrangada Papadakis on the other. Moments later, the pinnace was detaching and they were off.
“Are you going to keep that rank when you come back to the Vikings?” Saburo asked. “We’ll need more ships to support an Admiral.”
“That assumes I’m allowed to come back,” Brad said with sigh. “You have no idea how messed-up things are in Fleet command right now. They have their claws in me, and even if we manage to somehow take out the OWN ships, they don’t know who they can really trust.
“Under circumstances like that, I’m not sure they’ll let me go back to reserve status. My mercenary days might be over.”
“You could always resign your commission,” the Major, her voice almost ridiculously soft and feminine, completely at odds with her tough exterior and combat armor.
“Could I?” he asked. “I’m not so sure. Besides, until we settle the OWA, that’s a moot point. What’s the plan when we get down to the surface? Which one of you is going to be in overall command?”
“I am,” the Major said firmly. “No offence to Colonel Saburo, but you’re a Fleet Admiral—one of only four—and that makes me the woman on the ground making sure you stay safe.”
“Her reputation precedes her,” Saburo said. “I have no objections. This time.”
“We’re scheduled to land at one of the smaller spaceports near the capital,” she continued as if Saburo hadn’t spoken. “We’ll get close and then completely screw up their landing pattern by switching to another one that the good Colonel’s father recommended to him, and that he so helpfully informed me of.
“Once we’re down, we’ll meet some of his vehicles rather than the government-provided ones at th
e first port. They’ll get us to the meeting site, though I’m sure there will be much gnashing of teeth and rending of clothes. It’s hard to ambush you when they don’t know precisely where you are.”
Brad grinned and checked his weapons.
“That’s going to make us all very popular. Let’s make it happen.”
As predicted, their sudden change in itinerary caused a lot of consternation and yelling. Thankfully, Brad wasn’t the one who had to deal with it. The poor pilots were the ones being heaped with abuse and dire threats.
That didn’t mean that he escaped completely unscathed, though. Once the pinnace had landed and the mixed guard contingent started him toward three ground cars waiting for them, a man in coveralls indicating that he worked for the spaceport authority came screeching up in on a little scooter. He leapt free and sent it clattering to the ground as he huffed over toward Brad.
Brad had never actually seen anyone huff with such intensity. The fury literally roiled off the short man.
“What the Everdark do you think you’re doing, coming across the flight pattern like that, you damned madman? You could’ve killed someone!”
Saburo made to shove them man back, but Brad held out a hand. “I’m sorry, but it was necessary.”
The man’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Necessary? You high-handed Fleet buggers think you own the damned system? You and your kind—”
Major Papadakis, who was oddly the same height as the raging man, stepped into his personal space and forced him back without touching him. “Watch your mouth or you’ll be picking up your teeth.”
Her tone left no doubt as to her intent to personally knock them out.
They’d gathered quite a crowd of observers, and Brad could see that they were ready to back the man confronting him.
Brad held up his hands. “I’m not some Fleet flunky from the Inner System. I’m Brad Madrid and I own the Vikings mercenary company out of the Io Shipyard. I’m not here to tell you what to do, but you have to accept that the OWA might not want me to be alive to make that point.
