He Who Dares: Book Two (The Gray Chronicals 2) (33 page)

“Happy little bugger, isn’t he.”  Janice grouched as the medic took her blood.

“That’s me Leftenant; I just love sticking sharp objects in people.”  The Marine medic chuckled.

“OUCH!  Yes, I bet you do Marine.”  She growled, rubbing her arm.

Erring on the side of caution, Mike parked the ship at the far end of the landing field, away from trade ships landing and taking off.  They did get a visit from a Customs Inspector who came out to pick up the landing fee, but other than that, no one came near them.  He was careful on the makeup of the groups going shore, making sure the men outnumber the woman.  As far a dress went, the crew looked definitely piratical, the women more alluring as the days passed as they picked up more colorful local clothing, and soon became comfortable in civilian dress.  This was in keeping with his orders yet he shuddered to think what the Admiral would say if he saw them.  Even on board, most sported side arms, knives, and headbands and on one or two occasions Mike had to wear dark glasses on the Bridge due to the brightness of the shirts and blouses they brought back.  The word soon got round that they were a mercenary ship, and other than a few comm call to see if they were hiring, no one came near them.

“Good God!  This lot looks like a bunch of pirates,” Pete echoing Mike’s observation.  “If the Admiral could see them now, he’d have a heart attack.”

“Well, the instruction did say we had to look like a Merc ship, didn’t they?”

“I have the feeling this is going to haunt us for a long time, Skipper.”  Pate chuckled.

“You could be right, Number One.”

In all, it took a week to complete the painting to Gable’s satisfaction, as he kept walking, or flying over in the air car and taking readings, muttering to himself.  Then he’d order the crew to slap on another coat in one area or another.  In the end, he was satisfied, and the ship was coated jet black from stem to stern, except for the sensor plates on the front and sides of the main and secondary armament.  Some of the crew, mostly those working under the ship, had almost as much stealth coating on them as did the ship.  Getting the stuff off involved removing skin as well as hair, so for a while, Gable was on the top of everyone shit.  It did give the ship an ever more ominous look than it had before, and once all the nice shiny steelworks and hull plates vanished the black coating, no one who saw her doubted she was a mercenary ship.  They departed at night, and quickly lifted into space.  As it turned out, the local traffic control system didn’t even register them leaving.  That was good news to Mike, and he gave the thumbs up sign to Gable as he ordered the helm to head for the stars northern warp point at all possible speed.  This jump was shorter than the others, but how long they never knew, only the human mind registers the passage of time, not the clock.  It was sufficient for them to be aware of the
n
th
space around them, and the passage of another ship, ghost like in their passing.  The ship’s real time sensors displayed ship types none of them had ever seen before, others they recognized.  At one point, they passed close to a balloon like vessel, and for a moment, it looked as if they’d interspace with it, but a slight correction in the course avoided another incident.  Exiting the warp point, they found themselves in a binary star system and within a five day’s flight of a major trading center and immediately challenged by an intersystem cutter.

“Good God!  That thing is ugly.”  Pete muttered, looking at the view screen.

“Pretty much all guns and shields Pete.”  Mike countered.  It’s not meant to be pretty, just intimidating.”

“It is that…”

“And yes, it could make a serious dent in larger ships.”  It wasn’t the first time Mike had seen it, but he wasn’t about to mention that.  “It's designed to scare the crap out of pirates and the like, that come in systems looking for trouble.”

“Just one?”

“Oh no, there’s a bunch of them running around here.  If he gets into trouble ten or twenty more just like him will turn up.”

“The cutter, Captain is asking who we are and what our business is, Skipper.”

“You know the story, Jan.  Give him the party line and see how he reacts.”  She did, but they only heard half the conversation.

“Yeah, that’s right, a Merc ship.  We’re just looking for some supplies is all.”

“No asshole!  I’m not looking for a big dick!  If I was, you’d be way down on my list, shithead!”  She snapped, killing the connection.  She turned, her ears red, looking furious.

“I take it that your request to enter the system was well received?”  Pete asked.  For a moment, Janice glared at him before nodded her head.

“We are supposed to check in with orbital control on channel 81 after we enter the system.”  She snapped.   “They will assign us an orbit and insertion time.”  Saying that, she turned back to her board, muttering something about men under her breath.

“The local natives seem friendly.”  Pete observed, a slight smile on his face.

“Let's just hope Janice doesn’t meet that friendly gentleman dirt-side.”

“Yes.  Might not be good for his health.”

Orbital control gave them a parking spot twenty hours later and they settled in between two heavy freighters and a bulk ore carrier before setting the helm to automatic station keeping mode.  What caught Mike eye were the two really large vessels parked in high orbit.  Each was better than a mile long and bristling with weapon pods, yet neither was a warship.

“Helm.  Engines to standby, and stand down from watch.”  Pete ordered eyeing the dozen or so ships within sensor range.

“Aye-aye, Sir.  Engines to standby and standing down from watch.”

“Busy place.”  He said, cocking his head towards the screen.

“Pretty standard for a major trading center, Pete.”

“I’ve never been out this far, so I’ll take your word for it Skipper.”

“Busier around Alfa-Centurion, sir.”  Conner put in as he stood and stretched.

“Really?”

“Aye, sir.  About five times this volume and a bitch… begging your pardon, ma’am.”  He turned and apologized to Janice.

“No apology necessary Chief.”  She smiled back.

“Yeah, it’s really hairy getting in and out of that system.  Thank God, they had the sense to put up multiple traffic control station at the warp point.”

“Has a couple of nasty accidents a few years ago from what I hear.”  Seeing Mike nod in agreement, but it puzzled him how the Skipper would know about that.  He wasn’t old enough.

“Who are those really big buggers up there, Janice?”  Pete asked, eyeing the screen.  Janice tapped her keyboard, lips pursed as she worked.

“Oh yes!  Of course.  Both vessels are Free Trader, XO.”

“Hummm.  Heard of those, but I’ve never seen one.  Big bastards.”

“When you work the outer rim and gone for anywhere from three to ten years at the time, they have to be big.”

“How big a crew do they usually carry?”  He asked.  Mike answered before Jan.

“Five hundred to a thousand, depending on the run.  Local space they don’t need that many cargo handlers, but deep space runs they usually carry that more.”  Mike could see the question before Pete asked.

“Out on the rim, most of the systems don’t have container handling equipment, or large fleets of tugs, so they use their on-board heavy lift shuttles to ferry trade goods up and down.”

“Makes sense, but why all the weapons?  A bit unusual for a cargo ship.”

“True, but Free Traders end up in some pretty strange places with a lot of unfriendly people.”  Mike smiled slightly, remembering the stories he’d heard.

“Someone only had to tangle with one of those ships once to get the idea.”  He didn’t add that if any, Free Trader ship went down, she sent out an Omega Code across the whole bandwidth.  When that happened all hell broke loose.  Not only did several Trader ships converge on the last known position, but elements of the Avalon Deep space Fleet as well.  What happened after that depended on what they found.  More than one system watched in horror as their warships were pounded into scrap metal before the fleet exacted revenge on the guilty parties.  Having a few KEW’s, kinetic energy weapons, drop on their head usually convinces the local not to screw around with a Free Trader ship.

“Shore leave, Skipper?”  Pete asked.  Mike looked around the Bridge, seeing the expectant looks on the crew’s faces, inwardly smiling.

“I don’t see why not.”  The smiles got bigger.  “However, there with be a strict drinking policy in force and groups of not less than five each are to go ashore together… AND come back together.”  The smiles slipped a little.

“Problems, Skipper?”

“Yes Pete.  That’s a rough crowd down there, and beating or killing drunks for their valuables would be the least of it when it comes to the female members of my crew.”

“I’ll make sure they all understand that, Sir.”  Conner growled.

“Also, contrary to naval policy, all members going ashore will be armed.”  That brought everyone’s head up.  “You have strict orders to use them only in protection of your life, or that of a crewmate.”  The looks sobered.  “That’s not to say you can’t use anything else if it should come down to a punch up in the local bars.”

“Just like downtown Dublin on a Saturday night.”  Conner chuckled.

“Aright you lot.  Except for the standby watch, dismissed!”

“What about you, Skipper?”  Pete asked.

“I’d like you and Lieutenant Fletcher to join me ashore tonight.  I have a little business to conduct.”

“Business as in spying?”  Janice laughed.

“That’s intelligence gathering to you Lieutenant Fletcher.”  Pete sniffed.

“Right, we be spooks tonight.”  She laughed, hearing Pete groaned.

“What on Earth do they teach these kids at the Academy these days, Skipper?”

“Oh the usual.  How to hold your tea cup with your little pinky out, inane small talk, double speak for the crew, and how to dance pretty for the Admiral’s wives.”  Pete nodded.

“Sounds pretty much the same as when I was there.”  He nodded.

“Pretty much.”  Mike chuckled.

“Bum boats or shuttle, Skipper?”  Conner asked.  Mike thought about it for a moment.

“Both.  Have the shuttle ferry the bulk of the crew down that want to go ashore, but have it on standby where the crew can find it if need be.”

“Going to have a couple of unhappy Marines there, Captain.”  Pete smiled.

“If they can convince two of their bunk mates to trade off with them in a couple of hours, that’s okay with me.  Sober bunk mates that is.”

“Right, Skipper.  I’ll get with Sergeant Rice and arrange it.”

“Carry on, Chief.”

“Dress for the evening, Skipper?”  Janice asked.

“I don’t think Mr. Standish-Owen would look good in a dress, Janice.”

“Oh!”  She looked startled.  “I didn’t mean…”  Mike held his hand up.

“I know what you mean, Jan.” Eyeing Pete’s expression.

“Not funny, Skipper.”

“Semi-undress should do it.  Nothing military, but erring on that side.  We are professional mercenaries, are we not?”  If he thought, he was going ashore with just Pete and Janice, Jenks soon put a spike in that idea, and said so.

“If you really think I’m going to let you go wandering around some strange city without me, you’re daft.” Was all he said and he pulled his sidearm out of a draw.

“Jenks, I’m going down to do a little business is all, not get into a bar fight!”