Chapter Twelve

Complications

Crush tapped his fingers irritably on the arm of the awkwardly designed chair and tried to ignore Andy's smug look.

Their host, Viria, had invited them to a formal dinner, and Andy had warned Crush that it would be interminable. He even went so far as to suggest that Crush would rather spend the time slamming his own head against a wall.

Andy was right.

The worst part was being stuck in a seat next to the seemingly endless ball of conversation that was Berenice. She, of course, knew he hated being chattered at. In fact, she had been told so once.

That had been a tactical error on his part, Crush soon learned, as Berenice went out of her way to ‘chatter’ at him whenever she wanted to wind him up, or was bored. Both of those things were happening at the same time tonight.

As a consequence, Crush was considering ‘accidentally’ shooting himself in the leg just for an excuse to leave.

The parade of faces had been interminable as Crush and his small group were introduced to every one of even passing importance in the entire station before the select group of about twenty were ushered into a dining hall to partake of ‘light refreshments.’

To make it worse?

Berenice apparently knew all of them already and Crush knew she had been off the ship a grand total of twice.

Twice, she knew everyone from the Security Chief, a man called Orata, who had that gangly look real scrappers get, to the resident noble Seia. The lady in question was curious, having all the pomp and glamor one expected from the usual debutante but also the movements and quick eyes of a veteran soldier.

It was galling, but Crush was actually glad they had Berenice along tonight.

Seia kept giving him looks.

“Oh, would you look at that,” Berenice whispered in his ear, “Orata is sneaking off into a side room with Viria. I didn’t see those two being a thing, did you?”

“No,” Crush said, suddenly feeling anxious. He had seen how Viria looked at their waitress, and it was the same way Nellie looked at Lucy.

That was no fumble they were having.

“Oh, shit!” Berenice hissed, “Look at Seia! She’s going to join them!”

Andy caught his eye and subtly nodded towards the far door, where a number of the guests were quietly leaving the room.

“Boss?” Andy asked.

“Well! Hasn’t this been fun?” Crush said very loudly as he pushed to his feet. “An absolute honor! Someone send our thanks to Viria when you see her.” Crush beamed at the frozen and confused faces. “Must head back now; ship life is so busy! You know how it is.” He dragged Berenice up out of her seat, and the three rapidly strode toward the double doors, opening them to see a pair of shocked and nervous guards blocking the door.

“Halt!” one said, half raising his rifle.

“Think carefully about your next move, kid,” Crush said, a lazy smile forming as his hand gripped the handle of his pistol. “It could be your last.” Carefully keeping his eyes on the guard’s own, Crush flicked open the latch on the holster.

There was a moment of tension, and just when Crush was sure this was going south… Berenice reached out and slapped the guard across the face.

“How fucking dare you!” She turned and pointed at the stunned guard. “This idiot just threatened my virtue! We are leaving! Now!”

“I-I-I never said…” the guard balked and stuttered.

“Seize him!” An older gentleman yelled. “He shames us all!”

While the crowd argued, Crush and the others slipped away, collecting their escort of four Centrums outside the Control Center.

“That was innovative,” Crush added as they hurried back toward the docking bay.

“It works about half the time,” Berenice shrugged.

“People threaten your virtue often?” Andy asked carefully.

“What? No,” Berenice shrugged. “But it is a FANTASTIC way to throw guards off balance and get away.”

“You get nearly arrested often?” Crush asked with a smile.

“Of course,” Berenice winked. “All the best deals are normally illegal.”

“Comms are blocked,” Andy reported after the third time they had to turn aside due to troops blocking access to the dock. At this rate, they would more than likely have to shoot their way through. Crush was really hoping to avoid that.

Covert was out of the window, but a shooting war was another thing entirely.

“Attention! Attention! The Talon and its escort craft are hereby detained! All members of its crew are to be considered criminals and shot on sight.” Viria appeared on the massive screens all over the station. “The craft and their continents are now the property of the Maiusarian Military! All occupants are considered to be subject to execution.”

“You can’t be this stupid, Viria,” Crush sighed. “At least they—”

“From this moment on, the Maius system is at war with the Nanite Imperium.”

“Okay, they talked to the Imperial Line,” Berenice swore. “Now what?”

A massive explosion came from the direction of the docking bays.

“Now that,” Crush chuckled darkly.

“What’s that?” Berenice demanded as more explosions went off and the sounds of laser fire erupted.

“That,” Andy said with a grin, “Is Cara.”

“Unit, weapons free,” Crush called as he drew his pistol. “Anyone attempting to harm or detain us is the enemy. Everyone else is to be considered a non-combatant.”

“Yes, Boss!” Andy called, whistling at one of the Centrum units who tossed him a nanorifle.

“Merchant, stay in the middle of the Centrums,” Crush turned to see Berenice calmly assembling a nasty-looking rifle.

“Where the hell did you hide that in a formal ship suit?” Crush had to ask.

“Lots of places,” Berenice laughed. “We headed for the Talon?”

“Oh, no.” Crush smiled, “We are going to have a little chat with Viria.”

“Does everyone on this station use frangible rounds?” Andy asked as he ducked back behind the cover of an overturned metal table. “Because I am seriously starting to feel bad.”

“Fuck ‘em!” Berenice whooped as her shot removed the top third of someone’s head. “They started it!”

“With respect,” Crush said with a sigh. “What the fuck is that rifle firing?”

“Experimental number I picked up somewhere that doesn’t officially exist,” Berenice said, a wicked smile forming as she severed someone’s arm. “Minuturised rail gun that fires small metal disks.”

“You had a railgun stuffed down your dress?” Andy asked. “Fuck!”

“Not even the most dangerous thing in there,” Berenice grinned as she took another shot.

“What is?” Andy asked, smiling despite himself.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“Her, I’m guessing,” Crush shook his head as she picked off a target twelve blocks away.

“Yup! I got my starting capital in shooting competitions as a teen.” Berenice gaped as a line of black metal figures rounded the corner, beams flashing from their rifles, and the street was cleared in seconds.

“Boss! Boss! Can you hear me now?” Cara’s voice broke over the squad comm.

“I hear you, Cara, status?” Crush called as he stood.

“We are trapped, boss,” Cara said with a huff. “Imperial Line cruisers, one of them a heavy, and two destroyers are on final approach, weapons and shields hot.”

“So much for going to have a word with Viria,” Crush kicked the table aside and helped Berenice to stand up. “Everyone back to the ship.”

“Boss, they are demanding we stand down and are threatening a boarding party if we don’t,” Cara called. “What is the plan?”

Crush thought it through, but when your options are limited, make the best of what you have.

“Cara, we are heading back. Let them send the borders if they want. They can’t fire while we are attached to the station anyway.” Crush said.

I mean, they could, and he personally wouldn’t put it past the Imperial Line, but they would try a boarding party first.

That was their opportunity.

===<<<>>>===

“Where is this Viria person?” Minor Shareholder Lang snapped at his assistant as she stood smartly next to his chair.

“She has not yet answered our hails, Captain,” Cheape responded, ignoring the biting tone as she always did. “I believe they may have failed to detain the ship’s officers as we asked.”

“Ordered, Cheape,” Lang corrected her. “We did not ask, we ordered her.”

“This is an independent station, Captain,” Cheape reminded him for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. “We can only ask.”

“From the Imperial Line? In this insignificant little system?” Lang huffed. “They should consider it lucky we agreed to let them keep the cargo. What is it anyway?”

“Advanced prosthetics and the like.” Cheape tried to hurry on, but it was too late.

“The ones Carter mentioned in his report?” Lang sat forward, a gleam in his eyes.

“I am not sure,” Cheape hedged. “It is possible, but as we already have a deal with the station—”

“Forget that!” Lang laughed. “Launch the boarding party immediately. And cancel the weapons lock on that cruiser. I want that cargo intact.”

“Sir, that would not be advisable,” Cheape said, already knowing she was wasting her time. Still, the bridge recorders would note her protest. That might be enough to get her a transfer to a different shareholder.

“Issue the orders, Cheape.” Lang waved his hand, dismissing her.

“Sir,” Cheape nodded and turned away.

“Oh, and Cheape? Tell that ensign I pointed out to meet me in the Captain’s day cabin, will you? The one with the biceps?”

“Sir,” Cheape said resignedly. She breathed a sigh of relief as she left the bridge and went to find the unlucky ensign. The poor buggers soon learned the Captain’s ‘favor’ was not something worth having.

She better swing by the med bay as well and ensure they had the shots for after the Captain was done.

The crew was her responsibility, after all.

“Ballard, take two Silvers and go take that Cruiser. Lang wants the cargo intact, so no heavy weaponry or it's both our asses.” Cheape told the chief of security.

“It’s not yours he’s after,” Ballard complained as he started issuing the contracts for the boarding mission.

The Imperial Line was meticulous about paperwork and did not like to waste money. As a result, their military arm was paid a pittance when they were not actively fighting. Even their gear was company property. This naturally led to people avoiding serving, and the Line suffered losses as a result. The contracts, add-ons to their standard service contracts, were the fix management came up with. An individual could earn big money from those, and it kept their ranks full.

This was common knowledge, and it led the Line troopers to receive the derogatory moniker ‘adds.’

“Ballard, just keep the shots on target, and everything will be fine.” Cheape frowned. “And be careful over there. This lot is supposed to be tough.”

“Tough?” Ballard laughed. “So tough they got caught by the station militia? Spare me, okay?”

“I’d say tell that to the Quick Response Fleet, but you can’t. They’re all dead,” Cheape replied, hearing the frustration in her own voice.

“Uh-huh,” Ballard waved her away. “I handle the troops; you handle the ship.”

“And the Captain handles the crew,” Cheape failed to choke back the comment and left the room while Ballard was still roaring with laughter.

Unguarded moments like that were precisely what landed her with this shitty assignment. A couple more, and she would be facing a Performance Evaluation.

Lang would be a pleasant memory by comparison.

By the time she got back to the bridge, the boarding skiff was just launching from the side bay.

“Establish a link to the boarding party,” Cheape said, ignoring the conspicuously empty Captain’s chair.

The main viewscreen split into twelve individual feeds, one from each of the troopers. Most of them were grainy thanks to the ‘cost-effective’ cameras installed on the lower ranks’ suits.

“Ten seconds to contact,” the second officer reported tensely. “No attempt to prevent boarding so far.”

“They won’t be able to fire on our skiff without hitting each other,” Cheape told them. It was a little worrying they weren’t firing anyway. It meant they were smart enough to have figured that out, as well as confident enough to expect to resist.

Or they were just giving up. It was possible, but it didn’t feel right to her.

The screen showed the skiff establishing a seal against the hull and beginning to attempt to force the airlock. The lights remained stubbornly red, and Cheape ordered them to start cutting. Any time they gave the crew to prepare could cost lives.

“Cutting now!” Ballard called before the screens flared to white from the torches.

Ten seconds passed, then twenty, then thirty.

“Fuck off!” Ballard snapped. “Cheape, this fucking metal just seals back over when we cut it! What the hell is going on with this ship?”

“Ballard, if you can’t get through, disconnect and return to the ship. We’ll make another plan.” Cheape ordered.

“Let’s give it one more try with the override,” Ballard called, ordering the techs up to the airlock again.

“If it didn’t work the first time, it won’t—” Cheape started, but then the indicator lights flickered and went green.

“We’re in,” Ballard reported as the airlock cycled, both doors opening fully. A well-lit corridor showed through the gaps. Not a soul in sight.

“Ballard,” Cheape started, only to see his camera cut out as he entered the ship.

Looking over at one of the Silvers, she saw he was still there, fine and dandy.

“Silver Bates here,” the trooper reported. “Looks like there is an internal scattering field. We will shut it down as soon as possible.”

Cheape opened her mouth to tell them to fall back, but the cameras blinked out one after another.

They had gone in.

Over the next twenty minutes, their scanner picked up a few weapons discharges inside the ship, but that was about it.

“Assistant Cheape? We have something on the dockside feed.”

Their temporary allies on the station were sending their feeds out to them, which gave them coverage on the docking bay where the Talon and its escorts were hooked up.

Four of the feed cameras lit briefly as they split into pairs and boarded the destroyer escorts.

“I don’t like this,” Cheape said, shaking her head. “Something feels off. Why were the bronze troopers boarding the destroyers without a silver?”

“Assitant?” the second officer looked over to her, asking a question with his eyes.

“Do it. Interrupt the Captain’s meeting and tell him we need him on the bridge.”

The second officer swallowed nervously and headed toward the cabin with a reproachful look.

Cheape didn’t have time to worry about hurt feelings now.

Something felt very wrong here.

The shouts and swearing coming from the Captain’s cabin told her Lang was on his way, and Cheape crossed her fingers that the instinct screaming at her was right. If not, she would face that Performance Review much sooner than expected.

“Cheape! This better be bloody important, or I’ll be using your next dividend payment to clean my toilet!” Lang emerged, tunic half unbuttoned and red-faced in rage.

“We have had no contact with the boarding party for almost twenty-five minutes, Captain,” Cheape said calmly.

“Ballard! If that bastard has damaged my cargo… I’ll tear his bloody head off!” Lang threw himself into his chair and then seemed to have an amusing thought. “Perhaps my uncle can arrange a little transfer for him to a garbage scow.”

“Captain, do you have any orders?” Cheape asked.

“Yes, send another skiff.” Lang turned his beady eyes on her. “And this time, you lead them.”

“I am not combat-rated for that, sir,” Cheape protested.

“A thing to keep in mind the next time you allow my private meetings to be interrupted, Cheape,” Lang said with a vicious smile. “Best of luck!”

“Thank you, Captain,” Cheape ground her teeth.

“Ballard to Cheape, we have the ship. I repeat, we have the ship.” Ballard’s voice came over the comm line just as she was exiting the bridge.

“Took you long enough, Ballard,” Lang called back as the camera signals came back as the troopers filed out of the Talon and onto the skiff. Only five cameras came back on.

“Where is the rest of your party, Security Chief Ballard?” Cheape asked from her place at the door.

“Our gear was damaged by the scattering field,” Ballard sounded strained to her, but Lang didn’t seem to notice. “We can’t find where to turn it off, and the crew are dead, so we are stuck with it for now.”

“How about the cargo?” Lang asked immediately. “Is it intact?”

“Untouched, sir,” Ballard said.

“Good.” Lang smiled and clapped his hands. “Get your gear repaired on the tender and report back. I want to see you in my cabin the moment you are on board.”

“Of course, Captain,” Ballard said, almost sounding happy, which set off all kinds of alarm bells for Cheape.

“Sir!” she called. “Somthin—”

“Cheape? Get your ass over to the Talon and start an inventory. Oh, and stay there. I don’t want any further interruptions.” Lang spat over his shoulder.

“Of course, Captain.” Cheape managed not to cuss him out until she was safely inside her own ‘armor.’ It was not even ceremonial quality.

As her skiff passed the other, Cheape thought she saw something in the port window, but it was traveling too fast. If Ballard was up to something, she just did not want to know.

Once she had been dropped off, Cheape cycled in through the airlock. She waved to the troopers as they detached and returned to the heavy cruiser.

The inner door popped open, and Cheape felt something slam her to the floor.

“Welcome to the Talon, missy.” A voice growled in her ear. “I’m Marshall Cara, and you are under arrest. Feel free to resist. Your mates did.”

Cheape closed her eyes and offered a prayer to anyone who might be listening, trying to ignore the bodies of the boarding party lying off to one side.