by CR Daems
"Go home," I said. "The meeting room tapes are for you to study or show to you crew. The hallway and recreation tapes are to ensure any problems can be resolved without needing the benefit of biased witnesses. All tapes will be destroyed at the end of this conference."
"What guarantee do we have that the tapes will be destroyed?" Captain Furlow asked.
"The word of this heartless bitch, who has already informed the people in charge of this facility and those paying for this meeting that the Jax will be unhappy if I find they weren't." That was met with tentative nods. "In the event of an emergency alarm, multiple short blasts versus a long one for a fire, stay in your room. Outside of the rooms will not be safe. Do not attempt to correct any problems you encounter. Bring them to Captain Tzadok or me. We are here to ensure you have the least number of interruptions so you can accomplish your objectives for this meeting. We are therefore best ignored. Now for the meeting rules, those red buttons are to ensure you are recognized, and you get your turn to express your opinions or objections…" I went on to explain how the meeting would be conducted while letting them decide on the times to start, breaks, and topics. They agreed on a break for lunch, and time to get their second-in-charge for the next meeting.
"What do you think?" I asked Tzadok, after the meeting finished and the captains had left for the dining facility.
"It was unfortunate that Damsan didn't draw on you. It would have made a good object lesson." He gave a small laugh. "You know it will eventually happen."
I nodded my agreement as Tzadok left to take up his responsibilities.
* * *
When everyone had sat, Balok's red light lit and I nodded to him. He stood. I had to admire his command presence. If his clothes hadn't been tight fitting and made of leather, with the exception of a red silk shirt open at the neck, I would have thought him the president of a large corporation or senior politician. His angular face was smooth, his black hair cut just over his ears, and his expression pleasant. He stood just under one point nine meters and his lean body indicated an active man. His second-in-command, Quinlan, on the other hand had a stocky build, a square scarred face, a bald head, was eleven centimeters shorter, and looked like a professional fighter. His outfit looked like a combat dark blue military uniform with pants tucked into calf-length boots, a light blue shirt buttoned at the neck, and a waist level jacket. He had no medals or identifying patches to proclaim him one of the Mastad Sharks.
"Welcome, my fellow captains," his voice a commanding baritone. "The Malin Commonealth is annoyed with some of our actions within their space–"
"So, what?" Furlow shouted ignoring his red button. "Do we need their permission?"
"Captain Furlow, if you want to comment, you must signal your intention to comment and wait to be recognized," I said, thinking this was like first contact with a new client.
"I don't need your permission to talk," he shouted. Furlow was average height, around one point eight meters, scraggy brown shoulder length hair, narrow face, wiry body, and beady eyes staring like laser beams at me.
"Your right, Captain Furlow, I can't make you stand in the corner, or make you leave if you won't observe the rules. My only option is to kill you and hope your second-in-command will take the lesson to heart."
Furlow stared at me open mouthed as his eyes darted around the table. Balok saved his life by speaking as Furlow looked to be considering drawing his weapon.
"Sit down, Furlow. She's right. If we follow the rules, we can finish in a week or less. If we don't, we'll be bickering for months, and our crews will mutiny." He waited until Furlow sat with an elaborate show of reluctance and a sneer in my direction. His second-in-command, Reeve, sat frowning at him. He was as tall as Balok but more muscular with a fighter's scarred face, short hair, and a round face. Both their outfits were military looking like Quinlan’s, but a dark brown and they had rank on their jackets. Furlow had a four five-point silver stars, whereas Reeve had only one silver star. Both men had patches proclaiming them Furlow Tigers. "Unless we want Malin fleets hunting us, I suggest the first order of business is to form a charter with us as the ruling committee." He scanned the room and seeing no objections continued. "Then to agree on a set of rules by which we will operate," he paused, "and be held accountable. For those not paying attention, that will make the coalition a force," he smiled at me, "more powerful than the Jax."
I smiled back. In numbers but not training, discipline, and commitment, which is the heart of any military organization. It took them the rest of the day to come up with the name, Skulls or, officially, The League of Skulls.
The next day, Balok came with a draft charter. That took all day and well into the evening before everyone was comfortable, or at least not opposed to the wording. In general, it stated the governing body would be composed of the captains of the fleets from the star systems, the members would be held accountable for following the rules set by the governing body, and subject to the ruling of the majority. I laughed. In its present form the wording was in general terms so that everyone could sign the document. But over time, it would tighten around their necks like a hangman's noose as its members sought the power the Skulls could achieve.
As the meeting ended, Balok approached me. "I'm pleasantly surprised," he began, smiling. "I thought it would be harder to maintain order. As captains we're god-like masters of our ships and as such cannot show weaknesses even to our peers for fear of losing control. Letting us keep our weapons, I had thought reckless. But I see now a stroke of genius. You are treating this conference as your ship and you are in charge." He paused staring at me for a long minute. "Would you really have shot Damsan?"
"Yes. What choice would I have had?"
"None, I guess. But what if you had lost?"
"Do you consider you could lose when you are challenged?" I asked, knowing he would not be their leader if he doubted himself.
He laughed. "Fear is worse than being slow or a poor shot. Be careful, you damaged Damsan's pride. He won't forget that."
"That's his problem to resolve," I said. "But as I tried to point out, drawing your weapon against any Black Guard is suicidal. Even if you are deadly accurate and practice regularly, the best you can hope for is a draw."
"Goodnight, Captain Sapir."
"Goodnight Captain Balok."
CHAPTER TEN
Draco: Rules
"Today, we will begin discussing the rules that the Skulls will be required to follow," Balok said, as the third day of the conference began. "Captain Sapir, the Jax are mercenaries like the Skulls," he paused awaiting my response but continued when I only nodded. "Do you have rules?"
"I would consider them more like traditions than rules," I said.
"Aren't rules and traditions much the same?" Balok asked.
"Not really. A rule is something someone insists you must follow. You may or may not like the rule. How likely you are to follow the rule depends on your assessment of the reward against the risk–the punishment–for not following the rule." I paused, looking around the room and saw nodding heads. "Tradition is something you own as a part of belonging to a group or organization. Breaking a tradition will earn you dishonor and condemnation by the group or organization even if there is no other punishment."
"That's interesting," Balok said, giving a slight frown as he considered my remark. "Can you give me an example?"
"Take no prisoners, is a traditional Jax saying which is meant to mean, die fighting to the last man."
"That's totally ridiculous," Furlow shouted.
"A coward like you would think so," Tara said loud enough to be heard by everyone. Not too surprising, I saw Furlow's hand move toward his Mfw as he shot to a standing position. Ironically, Tara's hand moved away from her Mfw. I drew my Mfw as Furlow began to draw his weapon out of the holster.
"Furlow," I yelled. When Furlow turned in my direction, he was staring at my Mfw which was aimed at his head, whereas his Mfw was just clearing his holster. He froze. "You are e
xtremely fortunate that you are so slow that you had the time and good sense to stop. Had you been faster, I would have had to shoot you, which is just what Captain Tara had planned."
Furlow looked back to Tara, and his expression twisted in anger when he saw her hands empty and held well away from her weapon. "You scheming witch," he shouted.
Tara ignored Furlow. "Why would I do that, Captain Sapir?"
"I have no idea, Captain Tara. But if I feel someone has caused me to shoot someone for revenge, or to test me, I will feel justified in shooting them both." I watched Tara as her lips formed a thin smile. But her eyes held me like a hawk studying potential prey. Her long black hair hung loose across her shoulders framing a narrow face with a hooked nose. She had a lean muscular body and was only a few centimeters shorter than most of the men. I had seen at least three knives on her person indicating that cunning may be her favorite weapons.
"Maybe you should take our Mfws away from us," Tara said sweetly.
"Easier to shoot the trouble makers," I quipped. "Less trouble in the long run for everyone."
"Well, Damon," Balok interrupted, "deciding not to test our monitor is looking like a wise decision."
Damon didn't comment, nor did his disinterested expression change, but his eyes burned with hate. I had made him backdown, making him look vulnerable in the eyes of the other captains. Worse yet, he knew he would lose a one-on-one contest with me. He was like a boiling pot of water with a tight lid. The pressure would continue to build and would eventually explode with unknown consequences.
It took the rest of the day to agree on one rule, not to support rebel groups, but only after a caveat was added, except when the rebel group appeared to be the dominate force. It was obvious that Balok was willing to accept a weak charter and rules, if that was what it took to get an agreement. Once in place, the rules could be tightened until the agreement constituted a viable commitment that the Malin Commonwealth would accept.
"Well, Captain Sapir," Balok said as he approached me when the meeting ended for the day. "Your reputation appears justified. Keeping this bunch of hotheads under control is close to a miracle. I felt certain you would have had to kill at least one by now."
"There appears to be more than one agenda," I said, and Balok nodded.
"True, the Malin Commonwealth would like us to be predictable. Barring that, to be justified in destroying those that aren't." Balok paused, giving me a lopsided grin. "Then there are long held rivalries and bad blood between the captains."
"Eventually, someone is going to think they are smarter than the Black Guard," I said.
"That should be interesting," Balok said, and shrugged as he exited the room.
* * *
"How is it going?" I asked Tzadok, when I found him on the first floor.
"It's obvious that there are cliques among the raiders," Tzadok said. "Based on my observations in the dining hall and recreation area. I would say Captains Kobb and Furlow are one clique while Captains Damsan and Tara are another. Captain Balok appears to be liked or at least tolerated by all the groups."
"He is the driving force behind this meeting." That was my observation based on the meeting to date. He had been acting like a mediator between the parties. "Although he is concerned about the Malin Commonwealth deciding to teach them a lesson, I believe he has visions of being the top dog of the Skulls. While the others are indulging in their petty feuds and the short-term advantages of joining forces, he has his eye on the long-term prize–control of the Skulls."
The next two days focused on rules for operating within Malin space. As before, they only passed with caveats. I thought, or hoped, tomorrow would be the last day. From my perspective, the only interesting part of the meeting was getting to know the captains and their lieutenants. However, I thought the Jax Committee would be interested in knowing about the Skulls for future reference.
I was wandering the first floor, as I usually did after each meeting, as that potentially meant twenty-five raiders mingling, and they weren't all friendly. Therefore, the period when we had the maximum number of Guards on duty. Suddenly, Damsan appeared.
"If it isn't the murderous Black Guard bitch," he shouted, standing some twenty-five meters away just outside the dining area, while I stood near the recreation area. I was a bit surprised as I doubted he was stupid enough to engage me in a fair fight. But his hand was on his Mfw, and his total focus on me. As a shot rang out behind me, Damsan began to draw his weapon. I could see the surprised expression on his face when he realized I hadn't turned back to see what had caused the noise. Committed, he had no choice but to hope I missed or he beat me or I wouldn't shoot. But of course, I couldn't not fire as he was continuing to bring his Mfw into shooting position. I fired a laser beam through his right eye, and he crumpled to the floor.
"You murdered Captain Damsan…and Corgin," Pallan, one of Damsan's lieutenants, shouted. He stood in between two of Damsan's other lieutenants. All three men had their hands resting on their Mfws.
"Your cruiser is going to be without any officers if you draw your weapons. There are six Black Guards watching you, any one of which could kill all three of you without help," I said pausing, hoping they weren't stupid enough to draw their weapons. "We will review the tapes in the conference room, for the benefit of the other captains, as you well know what happened. Your coward of a captain intended for Lieutenant Corgin to shoot his weapon, hoping I would be distracted enough for Damsan to beat me to the draw. Damsan was not only a coward but disloyal to you, knowing Corgin would be killed when he drew his weapon. He didn't care so long as it distracted me." As they realized the truth of my statement, hands moved away from their weapons. "Sergeant Wahle, can you have someone fetch the tape of the area for the last half hour and have it transferred to the conference room monitors?"
"Yes, sir," Wahle said as I headed for the conference room. Several minutes later, everyone began filing into the room.
"I hear you killed Captain Damsan and one of his lieutenants," Balok said as he entered and took his seat."
"I regret that Captain Damsan sacrificed Lieutenant Corgin in his attempt to kill me. That put Corgin in between his captain and the Guard," I said. "I thought we would review the tapes so that everyone understands what happened and that there is no need for revenge. Damsan caused the problem and paid the price." I spent the next hour rerunning the tapes until everyone agreed that Damsan had orchestrated the shootout and had used Corgin to create a diversion.
"Well, Captain Sapir, I'm impressed. You and your Black Guard managed to keep control of our get together, which permitted us to produce a charter and a set of rules. I regret the loss of Lieutenant Corgin. He was Damsan's logical replacement and would have made an excellent captain. But as you pointed out, Damsan placed him in an impossible situation; one he couldn't win no matter what he chose to do." He paused and gave a small bow in my direction. "Damsan was an excellent object lesson that we, the Skulls, should take to heart. Discipline and loyalty. The Black Guard are highly disciplined. During this entire conference, I never saw a Guard who was distracted from their responsibilities. They were loyal not only to the captain but to each other. During the confrontation between Captains Sapir and Damsan, you could sense that every Guard knew, as Sapir did, that they trusted their fellow Guards with their lives." He looked at each group and received nods. "We should be gone within the next few hours." He turned and they all began to file out of the room.
As he was giving his speech, I could almost feel his resolve to build the Skulls into an organization close to the Jax. A worthy goal, but I doubted he would succeed. The individuals they attracted were too undisciplined, competitive, and hotheaded. Of course, any progress in their discipline would be an improvement. Tzadok entered as the last of the mercenaries exited.
"I was skeptical about letting them keep their weapons, but you were right." He laughed. "I'm beginning to warm to your The Black Guard is in command approach. Although the alternative If you don't like it,
we'll leave is also attractive. It solves so many problems and avoids the tedious effort of educating those that don't believe the rules are for their benefit."
Goebel appeared as the Guard was preparing to leave. "I don't believe the facility is still standing. Competing mercenaries mingling with weapons everywhere. I could imagine lethal fights every day, and it escalating to the cruisers overhead," he rambled on clearly excited as his eyes swept the area. "The Black Guard is expensive, but I admit you are well worth the credits."
"I'm glad you're pleased, Mr. Goebel, and you feel you got your money's worth," I said. Although he wasn't paying for it, Goebel had a right to have been nervous not only for the facility but for the conference's backers, since all the blame would eventually run downhill and land at his feet.
"I am, I am," he said while nodding and sticking out his hand, which he quickly withdrew as he remembered we didn't shake hands. I gave him a shallow bow and followed the others out of the facility.
That night Captain Hwang invited Tzadok and me to dine with him, his XO, and Colonel Wolfson. When we entered, the three men clapped.
"We now know what it takes to keep five murderous groups of mercenaries under control, two Jax Dragons," Hwang said, smiling. There must have been a hundred wagers on the outcome. We could not enter into them without officially condoning gambling, but I have to admit we had some side wagers between the senior officers."
"Who won?" Tzadok asked.
"Colonel Wolfson. He said he would never wager against Sapir," Hwang said. I felt embarrassed that they were giving me all the credit and not mentioning Tzadok, who was senior to me.
"Me either," Tzadok said. "I thought she was crazy, letting them keep their weapons, including Mfws. But I have to admit it was a stroke of genius." He nodded in my direction. Now I was sure my face was on fire. It certainly felt hot. Fortunately, the topics at dinner were about our early lives. Afterward, Wolfson insisted we join the First FIST at the firing range.
