Randolph Lalonde - Spinward Fringe Broadcast 08 - Renegades (28 page)

“Okay, now I’m
really looking forward to leaving on the Warlord,” Remmy said.
“It’s a hot mess down there, and I’m not just talking about the
radiation.”

“I know, it’s going
to be a challenge. Before you go, I have one order for you off the
record,” Commander Anderson said. “I want you to watch for
deserters, thieves, Order of Eden agents, or any other dodgy
behaviour on the Warlord that could compromise the crew’s safety or
integrity. They’ll be taking on a lot of new recruits this
afternoon, and I doubt the screening process will be as vigilant as
Captain Valent or his crew would like. I want you and your team to be
another layer of protection while you’re serving aboard.”

“So we serve as crew,
and I watch for anything that makes my traitor-sense tingle,” Remmy
Sands said. “I like it.”

“Good, now get
going.”

“Aye, Sir,” Remmy
said, standing up straight and turning towards the door.

“Oh, and Remmy,”
Commander Anderson said.

“Yes, Sir.”

“If you ever doubt
your position as leader, just remember your history under my command.
You’ve seen more in a year of service and had to make more
decisions under duress than most military officers have in their
entire careers.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you
for the assignment, I won’t let it go to my head,” Remmy replied.
He strode out of the room, feigning confidence, but he was actually
so dizzy from the experience of being handed a command that he walked
down the hallway in the wrong direction for over a minute before
turning around.

War Wounds

The galley of the
Warlord was one of the first spaces to be finished. The British
Alliance crews left the walls open for the first few months so they
could use it as a fabrication space, but you couldn’t tell it was
anything other than the mess hall when they were done. The room was
hardened for combat like every part of the ship. The walls would make
perfectly good armour plating for the outside, but more importantly,
they could isolate that large room from damage or withstand
punishment.

The extensive services
of the British shipwrights were expensive; it cost them favours and
trips to more scrap yards than Minh-Chu could count, but the British
crew never complained. They just stripped down, cut down,
refurbished, and certified the materials then built according to Jake
Valent’s plan. By the time the whole habitation area, bridge,
airlocks, brig, weapon systems, embarking compartments, and a few
other places were completed, the Warlord had quadrupled in mass. Even
more importantly, the shipwrights had come to respect Jake’s design
style. It was too bad they had to go, they still had many rooms to
finish. Most of the cabins only had a single light, they were short
on working lavatories, and the creature comforts they managed to
finish were clean, but cheap. Hard mattresses and bad seat cushions
had people kinked and irked, for a start.

The ship was so close
to being finished, Minh-Chu hoped they could find people to help
Agameg, Finn, Jake, and Frost complete the job. Polished or not, the
Warlord’s crew would be taking the ship out for another engagement,
and soon.

He couldn’t help
thinking of Ashley, whom he’d left behind to sleep in their
quarters aboard the Warlord while he wandered. The war would be hard
on everyone, it was only beginning, and he didn’t want to see her
in the middle. She wouldn’t be kept out though, and he would be
showing her no respect by trying to tell her to stay behind the line.

“They did a hell of a
job,” Frost said before raising a glass.

Minh-Chu didn’t see
him at first. He was in the back corner of the galley, near a
transparent section of hull. The ergranian steel distorted the view a
little, but Minh-Chu could see the Irishman was watching the British
Alliance Third Battle Group and Tamber beyond. The green, brown, and
blue moon was half shrouded in darkness. Haven Shore was on the day
side. They couldn’t see it from their vantage point, but it was
about to begin nine days of night. The sister moon orbiting Kambis
would eclipse the sun, then Tamber would pass behind Kambis for
several more days.

Minh-Chu made his way
across the galley. It was large enough to seat fifty, and offered
plenty of chair and table obstacles in the half-light. “I was just
thinking the same thing. It’s almost finished.”

“Looks like a new
ship. Half his guts are still left out on the deck, but the Warlord
runs, he can put up an awful hard fight. Warlord can do big damage,
kill a lot of people.” He drained the rest of his glass and winced.
“Get yourself a glass if you’re staying.”

“Too early for an
old-fashioned for me, thanks though,” Minh-Chu replied.

Frost stretched out to
a service table and retrieved a glass. “I gave the stuff up earlier
tonight. Made my last toast with Moira and smashed the old bottle I
bought a couple months ago. No more real alcohol.” He poured
Minh-Chu a healthy helping of whatever he was drinking from an
ornate, one and a half litre decanter with trees on the side. “This
is grapefruit juice, has the most powerful taste I’ve ever had.
Where’s Ash?”

“Asleep. I got a few
hours, but woke up as if someone flipped a switch. Steph?”

“Sleeping sound.
She’s too worried about me, I think. I got a few winks but couldn’t
stay down.”

Minh-Chu sniffed the
yellow-red juice and found a refreshing citrus fragrance. He shrugged
and downed a mouthful. The incredibly sour taste was so surprising
that he narrowly stopped himself from spitting it out. “Oh, God,
there has to be more to this than the flavour.”

“It’s just fruit
juice, one of the quick-grow crops they’re getting set to pump out
on Tamber. Don’t like it?”

Minh-Chu took another
sip and enjoyed it much more the second time. “Now that I know what
to expect, it’s pretty good. There’s no sour in the smell, I
almost gave the hull a fine coating. Where’d you get it?”

“Some produce grower
sent a gift crate up for the captain. He doesn’t really go in for
that stuff, so I thought I’d give this a try.”

They sat watching the
ships move past for several silent minutes before Frost asked, “Where
are your people, Ronin?”

The question surprised
Minh-Chu, but it wasn’t a topic far from his mind. “I can’t say
for sure. The last I heard my entire family was following my parents
out to New Georgia on Lorander Long Range.”

“Is that one of the
old Lorander colonies?”

“One of the first
along the galactic verge.”

“Right on the edge of
the galactic span, must be an exciting place.”

“They thought they
were settling a new colony, but it turns out the terraforming was
finished way before they got there. They ended up in an observation
ranch, on the edge of a forest. I don’t think of my family enough,
but I know my parents are all set there, loving the new life. I just
hope everyone else made it too. The last of my folks started the trip
as soon as Freeground reopened the ports.”

“I heard nothing’s
been heard from Freeground for a while,” Frost said. “Sorry ‘bout
that.”

“I try not to worry,
we’re too far away to do anything about it,” Minh-Chu said.

“But we’ll be
getting closer. Closer to the Irish Union, too. We’re going to get
their attention, lad. Drag these Brits into a fight whether they like
it or not.”

“I just hope we don’t
have to do it with a crew of a dozen,” Minh-Chu said.

“No worries there,
Ronin,” Frost said as he refilled both their glasses. “Captain
has ordered me to lead an armed team down to Port Rush. We’re
recruiting, and if the Carthans try to interfere, we’ve got his
leave to start shooting until they’re just a smear and slag. Got
the White Queen’s word on that, too. Seems Ayan’s just as pissed
about how little progress our military’s made as I am. I’m going
to have to apologize to her.”

“I don’t think
anyone expects much from you right now, Shamus,” Minh-Chu said.

“I’ll do something
to make it right. No matter how much time passes between Captain and
that woman, he’d still raze heaven and walk from one end of hell to
the other to see her safe, and he had no words for me about what I
did.”

“Apologize to her
well enough, and it’ll count for him,” Minh-Chu said. “I’m
starting to think you know him better than I do.”

“Can’t say that’s
true. You’ve got his ear more than anyone on this ship,” Frost
said. “Even Stephanie, who spent years aboard to get where she is
now. I can’t help but wonder just the same, are you sure you want
to go to war with Ash? Might be better if you follow that family of
yours out to the rim.”

Minh-Chu was stunned at
the suggestion. He rarely questioned his place on the Warlord, or
what he was doing, but what Frost was saying made sense when he
considered Ashley.

“Ah, I hit something.
Sorry, lad,” Frost said, reading the silence.

“I’ve questioned
whether Ashley should be aboard,” Minh-Chu said. “But she
wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, especially since her friends
could be in trouble in your home sector.”

“I can see that, and
what about you?” Frost asked. “I’ll never doubt your resolve,
but I’ve also wondered where it comes from.”

“I made landfall on
Pandem after the virus hit,” Minh-Chu said. “I think about it
almost every day. Life seems more precious when you see how suddenly
it can end. On Pandem, people died in terror, fighting, hiding,
running – it didn’t matter. In just a few weeks, it ended for
millions.” He couldn’t help but recognize that Frost’s
expression darkened as he spoke, and he reached a reassuring hand out
to his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear
this right now.”

“No, I do.” He let
out a shuddering sigh. “It pushes me to get through this angry knot
in my gut. Winning war is about thinking, planning, that’s what
I’ve learned from these last few months skulking around from one
port to another. I’ve got to get over being angry, or get so angry
I’m used to it, like Captain.”

Minh-Chu didn’t
realize he reacted to Frost’s statement, but the man noticed
something, because he looked at him with a little amusement. “You
never realized? Valent is the angriest man I’ve ever known, it’s
always just under the surface. He doesn’t show it to people he
loves, or people who he knows can’t handle it, but there’s a part
of him that comes out on special occasions, I’ve seen it before. It
gets him through the rock when he’s pressed against a hard place,
and sometimes it gets him killing.”

Minh-Chu could recall a
couple of instances when he was with Jonas Valent, on a battlefield,
on the First Light. There were times when he could be cold, even
remorseless, but Minh-Chu hadn’t seen much of it in Jacob. He could
be quiet, seemingly in a mood dark enough to be brooding, but he
hadn’t seen the angry man Frost was describing.

“Maybe I do know him
better,” Frost said. “We’ll see.” He stood up and finished
his glass. “Going to try and get a couple more hours’ sleep now,
I’m recruiting tomorrow.”

* * *

Only five hours later
Minh-Chu found himself standing behind Shamus Frost as he stood atop
a half-crushed starfighter in the middle of Port Rush rubble. He was
joined by Moira, Stephanie, Oz, Alice, and a host of Rangers. They
were all in full armour, ready for anything, and behind their
semicircle of eighty-four hovered the Clever Dream. Its gleaming
black hull menaced any who would threaten the crowd.

“The British Alliance
have said that they are not at war, but don’t let their hesitation
fool you, war is coming.” Frost shouted even though his voice was
amplified across local signals and through the air across the
destitution of Port Rush. He wore the heaviest of harsh environment
boarding armour, horizontal bands of reactive metal were built onto
layers of synthetic muscle, containment, survival, and shielding
systems. A plasma ripper made to cut through heavy hull plating was
built onto the left arm, adding a savage aspect to the appearance of
the scratched black suit. “They have not shown their opposition by
using force. They forge treaties, say they are constructing a
frontier so we are safe from bombardment, and gather around us. They
squander their chance to strike. There is fighting to be done!”
Frost shouted with the purest conviction Minh-Chu had ever seen.
Hundreds of weary, worn, and needy were coming out from ramshackle
shelters to add to the gathering of onlookers. “I stand amongst
captains who have seen the crimes the Order and Regent Galactic have
committed against us. Billions were killed and as many forced into
living by their rules. We have all lost something, someone, and we
need to push back. We do not strike at the enemy for money, we strike
because they’ll have us in chains or graves if we don’t.” The
ferocity of Frost’s speaking shook him and the creaky metal plate
beneath his feet. Only a few turned away from him as he told them
there was no money to be had. These people were desperate, living in
a shantytown that was growing by the day as people were pushed out of
the ruined city of Port Rush into the ravaged port of the same name,
or dropped there as the Carthans tried to clear territories in the
solar system. There were no resources to live on in Port Rush except
for what they could salvage; even the merchants had stopped visiting.

More people were
joining the crowd than leaving, and Frost continued as people climbed
up on old wrecks to get a direct view of him. “You will fight
alongside us because this is a just war. We’ll bring a better day
by force because we must. Eve tells us that it is mankind’s fate to
become greater through her Order,” There were jeers and shouts at
that notion, and when someone shouted, “Hate fate!” Frost pointed
at the man in a snap.

“That’s the way!”
Frost said, all gnashed teeth and bloodthirsty enthusiasm. “My
captains have seen the fires of Pandem! I’ve known the pain of a
family murdered, and you’ve all been brought low. This is paradise
for few and hell for the rest, and I’m not having it! Hate fate!
Hate fate!” he shouted, pumping his arms in the air.