He Who Dares: Book Three (30 page)

“Duty officer, here, ma’am.”

“Leftenant, would you please put together an escort and two armored vehicles and have them ready at the rear entrance in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, your Highness. Fifteen minutes it is.”

Finding a small plain box, she set the cylinder inside with a short note, and sealed it a moment before there was a knock at her office door.

“Come.”

“You sent for me, your Highness?”

“Oh, Roger. Good to see you again.” She greeted him like an old friend as he’d been the one to instruct her in the duties of a King’s Messenger and how to act. “I need you to take this to the Free Traders Guild Hall. Your instructions are that it is imperative that this be handed to or forwarded to Captain Gray immediately before he leaves the system wherever he is. Highest priority. There is an armed escort waiting for you at the rear entrance.” Roger took the package and departed without a word. Now it was in the hands of the gods as to what the cylinder was all about.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Mike was on tenterhooks waiting for the confirmation message that everyone was ready to depart. The one thing that bothered him, and he didn’t know, was how closely they were being watched. Once aboard the shuttle he doubted anyone would challenge their departure as even the shuttles were armed. Not that they could take on a warship, but system cutters, or police cruisers, were another matter. As promised they were conspicuous by their absence. Hopefully, no one would care until such a time as someone realized their importance. Much to Mike’s relief, everything went off smoothly. Afterwards he placed a call to Mr. Wellesley to arrange for his ships to be at a certain location at a certain time. As they were about to depart, a King’s Messenger turned up at Devonport with a package from Anne. Mike smiled, hefting the small box, hoping it contained a message chip from Anne. He stuffed the box into his carryall and followed Jenks and Taffy as they walked up the rear ramp and they boarded the last shuttle. Mike was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs until they docked with the
Orion Dawn
.

“You handed me a bit of a headache, Mr. Gray. I had to refuse cargo to make room for your passengers.”

“I understand, Captain, but any loss will be reimbursed by Gordon Tregallion.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, but you know what the Guild will say. Usurping the Free Traders traditional independence is one thing, but landing 1500 um… immigrants I suppose you’d call them without prior authority of the council might cause you some problems.”

“If they have a problem, they can take it up with me, not my grandfather, or Max.” Mike replied hotly.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. Having 500 plus qualified ship builders added to the work force right now is a good thing to my mind.”

Mike nodded and smiled, realizing that the captain’s complaint wasn’t really directed at him, just a friendly bit of advice about what to expect upon his arrival.

“How are you handling the passengers?”

“I’m using number three cargo hold and have set up cots. Once we are under way, I’ll have the doc administer ‘
somanex’
and put them all to sleep for the trip. I don’t have enough food and water aboard to handle that many people for the three months.”

“That will work, but it’ll have to be handled gently. Most of these people have never been off planet before except maybe a holiday trip to the moon.”

“I’ll have environmental inject a little trank gas into the compartment before the doc starts his rounds.”

“Sounds good, but I’ll warn them beforehand so they know what to expect.”

“Now, what about you and your companions?”

“I take it you need to top off your H
3
and water tanks before you depart?”

“I could do that. Out to Europa, or somewhere else?’

“Europa will do. Once you leave the fuel dock, head to the North WP, and I’ll have my ship meet you along the way.” He didn’t mention anything about his separate contract as Captain Bear as Captain MacManus didn’t need to know.

All went well, and his passengers were more than happy to comply with his request they all take ‘
somanex’
, as the thought of spending three months locked up in a steel coffin with nowhere to go and nothing to do, wasn’t very appealing. The
Orion Dawn
took on H
3
, water, gasses and recycled their CO
2
scrubbers before departing. Beside his 1500 plus passengers, the
Orion Dawn
was carrying three hundred workers and families from the Gravatronics facility on the moon. Mike did wonder what else they were carrying beside the weapons replacements for his ship. Three days later, Mike sent the coded message on broadband, but it took over twenty minutes before he received a reply from the
Nemesis
.

A day later they received a hail, and much to the surprise of the operations officer on the bridge of the
Orion Dawn
, the
Nemesis
seemed to pop out of nowhere. One moment his scope was clear, the next she was alongside. Mike didn’t try to explain, and after shaking hands with the bridge crew, he took his leave.

CHAPTER SEVEN:

“Welcome aboard, Skipper.” Standish-Owen shook hands as Mike walked down the ramp of the Marine shuttle. “I’ve been keeping your seat warm for you.”

“Good to be back. Any problems?”

“A few. We’ve been playing tag with the Navy searching for any more Sirrien spy ships.”

Mike stopped and looked at him. “What?”

His XO went on to explain what they’d found while hiding out in the belt, and the subsequent game of tag with the Navy after they’d sent the message about what they’d found.

“So, that explains the message I received from Admiral Rawlings about an explosion out in the belt and untraceable messages. And the Marines?”

“That gave me a bit of a scare when the bomb went off prematurely. We figured that some silly bugger aboard that spy ship must have sent out a pulse on the same frequency as the bomb. It took us a day and a half to find the Marines. Thankfully, none of them were seriously injured, and they happened to be behind a large rock when it detonated so no radiation exposure, but the EM pulse fried their electronics so they lost the homing beacon.”

“Thank the Lord for small mercies. I hope you wrote them up in the log for a commendation.”

“I did, Skipper. So what now?” The XO asked as they walked through the ship to the bridge.

“As of this moment, we are the good ship,
Hemlock
under the command of Captain Bear.”

The XO pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Just when I got this motley crew back into some semblance of naval personnel, you go and turn us into a bunch of pirates again,” he moaned as the Marine guard called out, “Captain on the bridge.”

“Cheer up Pete. Think of it this way. It will brighten up the bridge with all those lovely colors,” Mike laughed. All he could hear was the XO’s soft groan. Mike patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

“Wheee, we get to dress up again,” Janice laughed, hearing the last part and guessing the rest.

“And to think. I gave up a cushy posting on a nice, safe battleship for this.”

“Oh well, as they say, into every life a little rain must fall.”

“A little rain, I can take, not a bloody thunderstorm!” He grouched. “Oh well, I suppose I can live with it if I have too,” he sighed theatrically, trying hard to hide his grin.

“We are going to be swashbucklers again, and don’t ask me what a swash is or how to buckle it.”

“Ar har! You’ve been buckling your swash with a certain lady, I bet,” the XO accused.

“Who me? No, no, you must be confusing me with someone else – helm, ahead two thirds for WP North. Ops, watch out for three ships traveling slow in a convoy,” he said quickly to cut off any more question from his XO.

“Convoy, Skipper?” Jan asked.

“Yes, Jan. I have our first assignment as a privateer. Jan, you have the bridge while I go below and change into my pirate costume. XO, you’re with me. We have things to talk over.” He eyed the ship's clock to check the duty cycle. “Jan, ask CPO Blake and Sergeant Rice to report to my quarters as soon as they have a moment.”

“Aye, Skipper, I have the Conn. Blake and Rice to your quarters.” Jan responded as Mike and the XO departed.

He wasn’t surprised to see Jenks and Taffy in his quarters when he arrived, and as usual, Jenks had coffee ready for him when he walked in. He waved the XO to a seat and vanished into the bedroom to change.

“So, who might you be?” The XO asked the tall, mournful looking man standing against the bulkhead out of the way.

“Jones, sir. Ex-corporal Christopher Jones, Royal Marines, sir.” Taffy answered respectfully.

“Another one of Mike Grayson’s friends, I’ll bet.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Jones.”

“Yes, sir. I’d like to believe I’m one of his friends, except when he drops me in the sh… muck again, sir.”

“Wait… Jones… yes, Borland. You were with him during that mess.”

“Right, sir. See what I mean.”

“Stop boring the XO you dozy Welsh twit and have a cup of coffee,” Jenks said, handing out coffee. Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“Come.” The XO said automatically.

“CPO Blake and Sergeant Rice reporting as ordered, sir.” Conner moved into the cabin, causing everyone to take a deep breath to make room for him.

“Coffee, Chief, Sergeant?” Both looked at the XO, seeing him nod.

“Don’t mind if I do. Thanks.” They both accepted a mug of coffee just as Mike came back, now changed into his more comfortable shipboard, clothes and feeling more relaxed.

“Good, I’m glad you are all here.”

“Welcome back, Skipper.” Conner and Rice greeted him.

“Good to be back. Now to business, thanks, Jenks,” he said, taking a mug, “I’ll let you all read it at your leisure, but what I have here,” he held up the embossed envelope, “is a Letter of Marque from the King.” That brought a stunned look from everyone except Jenks.

“Good Lord. The Crown hasn’t issued one of those for hundreds of years… but… but… a Letter of Marque… My god. That means we are going to war with the damn Sirriens, right, Skipper?” Standish-Owen exclaimed.

“Right the first time, Pete. As of this moment, we are the mercenary ship
Hemlock
under the command of Captain Bear.”

“Oh Lord. Here we go again,” Rice chuckled.

“Sergeant Rice. I’d like you to meet Ex-Corporal Taffy Jones, late of His Majesty’s Royal Marines.” Rice cocked an eye at Taffy.

“Is he now? And what would you like me to do with him?’

“Ummm, good point. He actually signed on to join the Avalon Marines, but the situation has changed since then. Taff, how do you feel about joining the Marines again, with a bump in rank? I’m sure Sergeant Rice could do with some help, seeing as he’s the only senior Marine aboard.”

“I’d be glad to, Sar... Skipper.” He corrected.

“How about you, Sergeant Rice. Could you use some help down on the Marine desk?”

“If I might speak freely, Skipper?”

“Of course.”

“I have one acting Sergeant that I’d like to make permanent, but I can’t until we get back ashore,” he said, scratching his chin in thought.

“As of this moment, and with this,” he tapped the envelope on the table, “I have the authority to do what I want. I’m here by promoting you to WO-1. Promote your acting Staff Sergeant to permanent, and sign Taffy on as Staff Sergeant.” Rice looked at him in surprise. “That way you can split your Marines into two squads each under a team leader.”

“Right, sir, but what are our ROE, our Rules of Engagement?”

“Keep the uniforms as they are, but scrub them and your armor of any insignia and identification marks except your names and ranks.”

“Good point, Skipper. Any well equipped mercenary outfit would have a well-disciplined military force aboard,” the XO put in.

“That was my thought as well. It wouldn’t be unusual to find mercs with old Marine Corps battle gear. Get Taffy, sorry, Sergeant Jones squared away and start on the changes.”

“Aye, sir. Taffy, you’re with me.” With that, they departed.

“Want me to organize a working party to go ex-hull and scrub out the Union Jack and change the name, Skipper?” Conner asked.

“As usual, you are way ahead of me Conner. Yes. I’ll leave that in your capable hands.”

“And the dress code for the duration, Skipper?” Pete asked with a grin.

“Same as before, neat, tidy and colorful. Sidearms at all times, knives optional. All weapons to be locked and loaded, but not charged. Also a gentle reminder to all crew that even if we look like a bunch of privateers, we are still part of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. That means I expect them to conduct themselves as such and maintain normal discipline.”