He Who Dares: Book Two (The Gray Chronicals 2) (36 page)

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The two bursts he’d seen were 500 GW at least, suggesting a Destroyer or light Cruiser at least.  He was armed, but you can’t fire at something you can’t see.  His tech office kept swearing there wasn’t a ship there.  If that was true, where had the plasma fire come from?  The airlock cycles, and an amazing sight met his eye.  A group of eight people stood in the hatchway, dressing in an assortment of colorful clothing, and all armed to the teeth.  Even if he’d thought about putting up any resistance to the boarding party, the sheer firepower they carried put a stop to that.  Some of the weapons could put a hole right through his hull.

“I’m Captain Bear, are you the Boss of this ship?”  A tall, blonde haired young man stepped forward, waving a blaster around as he did.  One look told the Suritan that the safety was off and he blanched a sickly shade of green.

“I am the Suritan of this ship, what do you want!”

“A little more civil tone in your voice for a start, lizard!”  Captain Bear snapped, prodding the Suritan in his ample stomach with the business end of the blaster.

“I’m sorry, but I do not speak angelic very well,” he lied, “it could be that I have mistakenly used the wrong tonal inflection in greeting you.”

“Yeah, whatever frog breath, where’s your manifest and cargo list?”

The Suritan hated being referred to as a frog, and knew it was a derogatory word that some hu-mans to use.  He held his silence.  You don’t argue the finer point of language and protocol with a lunatic holding a blaster, especially one with the safety off.  Instead, he led the way to the Bridge and let him check the cargo manifest.  The insolent hu-man had the gall to sit in his command chair and put his filthy boots up on the control consult. Several of his crew made motions towards the man, but he quickly waved them back.  It wasn’t just the fact he’d sat in his seat, but he dared show the soles of his boots to them.  It was clear that his barbarian had no manners whatsoever, or he’d know that showing the soles of his boots to a Voss was the supreme insult.  Either that or a calculated insult, designed to provoke his crew.  The Suritan shuddered.  Did he mean to kill them all, and was only looking for an excuse?  Captain Bear nonchalant looked down the cargo list while he picked his teeth with a thumbnail.

“I can see a few things on this list that could be considered as giving aid and comfort to the enemy.”  Captain Bear said at last.  He worked up a belch and let it out, patting his stomach, another calculated insult.

“I have told you, we carry no war material.  This is forbidden by the hu-man, Royal Navy.”

“Really, and of course, you always do what the hu-man Royal Navy tells you, right!”  Mike mimicked.  The Suritan gritted his teeth.

“How much?”  He hated having to ask, but there was no way round it.  He didn’t want this barbarian poking around his cargo hold.

“A thousand gold crowns.”

“What!  That’s outrageous!”  For a moment, he did a sort of dance around the Bridge, waving his arms in the air.  For all his size, it was amazing how light on his feet, he was even in a 1.2 gravity field the ship was set for.  Mike brought his side arm down and pointed at the Suritan.

“Go check the hold.”  Captain Bear snapped over his shoulder, touching the keypad of the comm unit on his belt.

“Wait!... all right, a thousand gold crowns.”

“See, I knew we could do business, frog breath.”  While all this was going on, Sergeant Rice and his team of Marines entered the cargo hold unseen.  Even the tell tale readouts of the cargo hold air lock opening went unnoticed.  The Bridge crew had their attention on him.

“Nothing here, Skipper.”  Rice whispered in his earpiece.  Mike stalled a little longer, reading the cargo list again.

It was clear that the Suritan didn’t want him poking around in the hold, but other than ripping it apart to find out what he was carrying, there wasn’t much he could do about it.  Obviously, the Royal Navy and the Customs inspectors weren’t doing a very good job, or he’d made a side trip, not on his manifest.  That would go into his report as well.  In the end, he accepted the purse, and after checking it, another calculated insult, he departed the moment Rice reported he and his team clear.  Mike made his way back to the ‘Hemlock’ and disengaged as quickly as possible.  As the Voss trader vanished off the scope, Mike called a war council on the Bridge.

“I’d say that was one pissed off Suritan, Skipper.”  Pete Standish chuckled, having listened to the open communications.

“Hated doing it, Peter, on the whole the Voss are nice people.”

“He was definitely carrying something he didn’t want you to see.”

“True, but for who, us or the Sirriens?”  Sergeant Rice came in then, followed by two men.  Each was carrying two plastic crates with them, and they placed them on the deck beside his chair.

“The detector showed nothing, Skipper.”

“Damn, it was obviously the wrong ship.”

“Thought you might like an addition to you liqueur supply, sir.”  Rice said, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’d be poor mercenaries if you didn’t steal something.”  Jenks said as he knelt down and opened one of the cases, whistled in delight.

“Oh my!  This is Trogon Brandy, and over a hundred years old!  Rice, I’ve just promoted you to General of the Marine Corps.”

“Well, thank you Mr. Jenks.”  He laughed.  “Next time I’ll steal something better, might make Admiral of the Fleet next.”

“Sergeant Rice, you wouldn’t want the job, believe me, being a Sergeant is a lot more fun.”  Rice cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I think you could be right, Skipper.”

“I hope you kept a couple of cases for the Marine Mess.”

“Oh, yes, sir, I did, if that all right with you.”

“Of course, spoils of War.”

“So, what do we do now, Skipper, hang around here and wait for another Voss Trader?”  Pete asked.

“Don’t see what else we can do at the moment.”

There waited for two weeks, killing the boredom by running battle scenarios with the shuttle and Captain launch acting as attacking ships.  With the help of Conner Black and the other Petty Officer, Pate Standish in the mean time had quietly reorganized the crew into their different departments and assigned everyone to a battle station.  In most cases, he’d tried to work it so the person’s battle station was close to his or duty station.  This would help in an actual emergency, cutting down on the time for them to reach it.  He passed the results to Mike, and after reviewing it passed it back with his approval.  The simulated attacks helped refine the Marine gunners' skills on point defense, especially using dummy torpedoes to simulate incoming missiles.  The point defense system worked during these attack runs, especially the multi-targeting capability, but between Gable and the Marines, they managed to refine the system even more.

“Contact, Skipper, I have a Voss trader, but he going the wrong way.” Called down to the Mess.

“Wrong way?”

“Aye, sir, it looks as if he’s coming from the Sirrien space.

“So, she’s not the one we went them.”

“It might not be a bad idea to board her anyway, sir, at least to keep up our cover as a Merc ship.” 

“Good point.”  Mike answered as they made their way quickly back up to the Bridge and settled in.

“Number One, bring us to battle stations.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”  Pete pressed the alarm button as he answered.

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They used the same technique as before, with Rice and his team entering by the stern cargo airlock, while Mike put on his song and dance show as Captain Bear.  The results were the same, except this time the Voss Suritan knew who he was.

“My bother Suritan warned me that I might meet you.”  His skin changed color three times while he spat the words out.  “But this time, you will be disappointed, I carry nothing of any import to you, or the hu-mans.”

“Still, it’s my job to check these things, Captain.”  Mike took his time, waving his blaster about.  It wasn’t loaded with a full charge, and at most would only stun, but the Suritan didn’t know that.  We all know how honest and trustworthy you frogs are, right>”

“Skipper, I hate to tell you this, but the detector is showing trace elements of those two ship here, I think those two fighter were on this ship.”  Rice whispered in his ear.

“So, tell me, Captain, what did you carry to our sector on your last trip?”

“Nothing that would concern the hu-man Royal Navy, or you, just heavy agriculture equipment and medical supplied for your Masters.”  It didn’t take long to punch up the ships last ports of call.

“Good, we can use all the ‘
agriculture equipment
’ we can get,” he giggled, making it sound as if he was in on the joke, “also the medical supplies.” 

The question was, did the Suritan know what he was carrying, or did he really believe he was carrying
agriculture equipment
’ and medical supplies.  He wouldn’t put it pass the Sirriens to crate the ships to look like something else, and have them transported out of Earth space by a third neutral party, the Voss.  It made sense in a way, as the Sirriens could quite honestly claim they knew nothing about the theft.

“Where did you drop the heavy equipment off, Captain?”  Mike asked casually, looking at the screen.  The Suritan skin changed color, but Mike wasn’t familiar enough with the Voss to know what it means.

“At your star Base Three, in quadrant nine or course, where else would we drop it off?” The alien's face took on a magenta shade, but it was his eye that clued Mike he’d said something out of place.  The changes in skin color might make the Voss look funny and harmless, but they weren’t stupid.

“Just checking, Captain, to see if you made any unauthorized side trip, say to smuggle in some illicit contraband like drug?” 

He tried to sound nonchalant, looking at the deckhead.  The Voss weren’t above smuggling a few extra items to improve their profit margin.  To a Voss of course it wasn’t smuggling.  They were traders and took whatever cargo was available at one place, transported it to another place and sold it.  Just because they happened to pass through someone else’s space where that particular cargo was outlawed was of no concern to them.  Mike made a quick recovery, but by the Suritan’s changed expression, he knew the Captain had done exactly that.

“I don’t know what you mean!”  The Suritan spluttered.

“Captain, Captain, I don’t care where else you went.  I’m not the Sirrien Navy or Customs, just a poor mercenary trying to make an honest living.”  Several of his team snickered hearing that and looked the other way as Mike shot them dark looks.  “We all can’t be as lucky as you, Captain and have a nice trade agreement with everyone, now can we.”

“You’ll get nothing from me on this trip, mercenary, I carry nothing that you hu-mans can use, and nor will I pay your ‘tax’.”  He snapped.  Mike looked angry, and kicked the helm consult in mock fury.

“Don’t play with me, Captain, I’m not in the mood!”  He snarled, and it wasn’t all acting.  “I’ll be watching for you on your next trip, lizard.”  With that, he stormed off the ship, barely giving the Voss time to seal the airlock before his disengaged. 

The ‘Hemlock’ beat a hasty departure and put distance between them and the Voss ship. Mike was angry, but with himself.  If they’d only got here two or three weeks earlier they might have caught this ship on its way in, before they’d unloaded the fighters to another ship.

“What now, Skipper?”  Pete asked.

“We head for that damn Star base, that’s what.”  Mike gritted his teeth, angry at himself for failing.

“Sir!”

“You heard me, we head for the Sirrien Star base and destroy those fighters, that’s what, and those are my orders!”