Fatal Blade (Decker's War#3) (15 page)

“If Tran wasn’t blowing smoke up my ass, we could use someone like you, and I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t mind going back to your old line of business.”

Steiger examined him with an almost frightening intensity, to gauge his reaction.

“I have no idea what Tran’s been saying, which means the smoke you feel tickling your butt is pretty much your own business.”

He took another glance at the sensor readout, but this time, he kept his eyes on the screen.

“I’m happy with my life these days, so you might as well put away whatever you were going to dangle in front of me.”

“And here I thought you were a merc for hire.”  Steiger laughed derisively.  “You should listen before making up your mind.”

Talyn gave Zack a dirty look.

“It costs nothing to listen, buddy, and we’ve got a whole lot of sweet nothing going on anyway, so I’d like to hear Sera Steiger speak her piece.”

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t, but I got rich by listening to propositions of the financial kind before tossing them away.  My companion here isn’t quite as motivated by profit as I am.”

“Yeah.”  The mercenary smirked.  “He’s got other motivations.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Decker protested half-heartedly.

Steiger held up her hand, palm facing Zack.

“I’m negotiating with the organ grinder now, lover.”

“As far as I can tell, we’re not negotiating anything,” Talyn replied, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“Not yet in any case,” Steiger agreed.  “My people aren’t just in the market for weaponry, we’re also in the market for trained soldiers.  Again, going by what Tran said, your partner would be a heck of an asset, not just as a fighter but as an advisor.”

“Are you preparing to invade the Empire?”

“No.”  She shook her head.  “We’re working on correcting a massive wrong done to some terrific folks.  I hear Ser Decker has a thing about injustice.”

“You mean doing what he can to avoid being the victim thereof?  Yeah, he’s good at it.”

Decker caught Tran’s eye and grinned briefly, to show he was amused and not at all put out by the mischaracterization.

“What’s in it for us?”  Talyn asked.

“A long-term contract.  Action.  The virtuous feeling of being on the side of the justice.”

“Death?”

“Depends on how good you two are, especially the ex-Marine you sleep with.”

“Oh, he’s good.  Take it from me.”

“Though I’m sure Sera Pasek doesn’t mean quite the same thing, I’ll second that remark,” Kinnear said.  “Zack Decker managed to turn around a screwed up company in no time flat and that, among his other virtues, saved two hundred lives when the mission went sideways.”

Steiger held up her hands in surrender.

“Enough.  I’m sure Ser Decker, or Ser Whate if he likes, doesn’t need his ego inflated.”  She dropped her hands again.  “First things first.  We need to get the convoy together and reach our destination without interference.  I’ll hire you to ensure that we do.  Once we’re there, and you’re still interested, we can make it worth your while if you’ll lend us your skills.”

“I prefer Ser Whate right now and where, exactly, is it that you’re correcting a massive injustice?”  Decker asked.

“Care to take a guess?  A smart guy like you must be keeping tabs on what’s happening along the Rim.”

Zack locked eyes with Steiger.

“Garonne?”

The mercenary tapped the side of her nose with her index finger.

“Any problems with that?”

“Depends.  Is our pay tied to the rebels winning, or are we getting paid no matter what?”

“You’re getting paid.  If you stick around long enough for Garonne to get its level three status, I’ll see that you get a bonus.”

“So our pay depends on the Senate doing what you consider the right thing?  How stupid do we look?”

“The Senate will go along once we kick the Celeste administration off-planet, especially if the Fleet decides to step in.”

“Maybe the Fleet will side with the colonial government.”

“Perhaps.  We’ll take our chances.”

“And you want us to take ours?”

“Got anything better to do right now?”  Steiger smirked.  “You’re carrying ordnance for a rebel army.  If the Navy stops this ship, maybe they’ll take you in.”

“Blackmail is such an ugly thing,” Talyn said.  “But well played nonetheless.”

She put her hand on her holstered blaster.

“Of course, we could always space the two of you and sell your cargo for a profit.”

Kinnear looked distinctly pained, and he gave Decker a pleading look.

“Enough,” Zack snarled.  “If we’re done with the posturing, why don’t we agree that we’ll give your convoy an armed escort to Garonne?  Once we’re there, we’ll decide whether to stick around and extend our contract or leave, no harm, no foul.  You pay in installments.  That’s the best you’re going to get until we figure out what the state of play looks like. Agreed?”

Steiger nodded once.

“Agreed.”

The AI chimed softly, calling Zack’s attention back to his screen.

“Two ships dropped out of FTL near the rendezvous coordinates,” he said.  “Their power curve is consistent with small freighters.”

“That must be Verrill,” Steiger said.  “He was going for the mother lode.”

“And this mother lode was where, exactly?”

“You have your secrets, Captain Pasek,” she wagged her finger at Talyn, “we have ours.”

“Fair enough,” she replied.  “Might I suggest that if we’re being paid to protect your mother lode, we go ‘up systems’ and join them while we wait for number three?”

“By all means, Captain.”

“I assume you have a recognition signal?”  Decker asked.  “It would be a shame if your man Verrill’s ships jumped out on a scare or got stupid and opened fire.”

“Of course,” Steiger replied.  She fished a data wafer from her jacket and tossed it at Zack, who snatched it out of the air with practiced ease.  “Feed that through your commo array when we drop out of FTL.  I’m assuming we’re going to do a micro jump rather than join them at sublight speed, right?”

“Right.”  Talyn turned towards the helm console.  “Be prepared for your coffee to try a bid at resurrection.”

SIXTEEN

A bearded man of indistinct age appeared on the main screen moments after Decker had established a secure commlink to the freighters.

“Steiger,” he said nodding at the mercenary and her companion, “Kinnear.”

“Verrill.  You had success?”

“Of course.  I see you brought some muscle along with your part of the ordnance.”

“May I present Captain Pasek and her partner Ser Whate?  Their ship,
Phoenix
, is an armed yacht with impressive firepower.  I’ve witnessed them destroy two reiver needle ships shortly after lifting from Rakka.  They’ve agreed to provide us with an armed escort us to our destination on top of carrying what I bought.”

“Really?”  Verrill stroked his chin while he examined Talyn and Decker through narrowed eyes.  “How interestingly convenient.  You’re satisfied that we can trust them?”

“Tran has some history with Ser Whate and vouches for him unconditionally.  Apparently, on top of turning reivers into dust, he’s also something of a wizard at training troops and beating the crap out of anyone who desperately needs it.”

“Even more interesting, isn’t it, that they’d stumble across us at a time when we desperately need military experts.”  The doubt and mistrust in Verrill’s face were plain for all to see.  “I assume that by now you know who we are and what we’re about, Captain Pasek, Ser Whate?”

“We do.”  Talyn nodded.

“And?”

“And what?  Are we uncomfortable with transporting weapons for a rebel movement?  Are we uncomfortable providing an armed escort for your clapped-out freighters and firing at anyone other than the Navy if need be?  The answer to both is no.  We’re for hire, and provided you don’t ask us to do something that’ll put us on the Fleet’s shit list, we’ll deliver.”

“I’m sure Miko dangled enough money in front of your eyes to take care of any scruples you might have had.”

“She has,” Talyn confirmed.

“That being said,” he continued, “I’m more concerned about who else you talk to or work for.  As you can probably figure out for yourselves, there are a few governments who’d dearly like to end our movement before we have a chance to shake off Celeste’s yoke.”

Decker shrugged.

“We talk to ourselves and our clients, meaning you fine people right now; no one else.  If we don’t cross the line, the Constabulary and the Navy leave us alone.  The opinions of the various colonial administrations out on the Rim don’t matter much.  Half of them are corrupt, and the rest close an eye when we’re around on the general principle that we could be useful in a pinch.”

“Funny that we’ve never heard of you before,” Verrill replied, unconvinced.

“Being too well known doesn’t attract business.  Our usual clients like things to stay nice and quiet, before, during and after a contract.”

“Fair enough.  I know you folks hold an ace in the form of your ship and the cargo it carries for us, which puts me in the position of having to graciously accept responsibility for the contract negotiated by Miko, whether I’m happy with it or not.”

“As she mentioned, I can vouch for them,” Tran said. “Bill Whate came out of the Coalsack with me after he saved our collective bacon on Garada.  Two hundred people, me included, owe him our lives, first because he taught us how to fight and then because he led us out of the worst military disaster to befall our erstwhile employer.”

“What about Captain Pasek?”  Verrill asked.  “You know her from your past adventures as well?”

“No, but Ser Whate trusts her unconditionally, and that’s good enough for me.”

“I see I’ll have to swallow my reservations about this arrangement.”  Verrill nodded politely at Talyn and Decker.  “All that remains for me to say at this point is welcome to our little ragtag band of freedom fighters.”

“Sera Steiger mentioned a third freighter,” Talyn said.  “Are you expecting it soon?”

The rebel leader gave a half shrug.

“We set a timeframe, not an exact time for the rendezvous.  Once that period expires, whoever made it here heads home.  Coordinating three missions isn’t exactly easy when you don’t have access to the Navy’s subspace array.  It’s a miracle that you made it not long after our arrival, considering Tran had to look far and wide for extra transport.  Few captains are willing to get involved with a colonial liberation movement, and many of those who do would sell us out at the drop of a cred.”

“Hence your reservations.”

“I believe that if it seems too good to be true, it is, Captain Pasek.  You two seem too good to be true, but I have to remind myself that sometimes the stars do align, and we get a shot of good luck.”

“Let me rephrase my question, then.  How long do you expect to remain in this area if your third companion doesn’t show up?”

“We’ve given ourselves a window of seven standard days.”

“This deep in interstellar space and with reasonable emissions control, we should be reasonably safe from accidental discovery,” Decker remarked.

“Glad that our arrangements meet with your approval, Ser Whate,” Verrill replied.

Zack seemed unfazed by the man’s cutting edge.

“If you’re buying my services as an advisor, I’ll advise.  If you want me to shut up, just say the word.”

“He generally stops speaking if you ask,” Talyn chimed in, “though I find the best way is to stick a bottle of Shrehari ale in his hand.”

Verrill’s eyebrows shot up.

“Expensive tastes.  Are you carrying any?”

“Why?”  Zack’s mouth curved into a broad smile.  “Don’t tell me you’re an aficionado?”

“I’ve been known to take a nip when I can,” he replied, a measure of ease loosening his tense features.  “Perhaps you might be kind enough to invite me for a meal.  Getting to know one’s new allies around a good drink is rarely a bad idea.”

“Consider yourself invited, Ser Verrill, now in fact, while we’re waiting for your third ship.”

***

The man who stepped out of the personnel pod seemed to match Zack in height if not quite in width.  Though appearing older and more tired in person, he nonetheless exuded confidence with every spare gesture.

Decker stuck out his hand.

“Welcome aboard, Ser Verrill.”

“Pleasure, and it’s just plain Verrill.  Ser Verrill is my father, as the joke goes.”

The two men tested each other’s grip for a moment, recognizing quickly that they were almost evenly matched.

“You said something about Shrehari Ale, Ser Whate.”

“The name’s actually Zack Decker – you can call me Zack.  Bill Whate is what I go by publicly, but that’s just between us.  There are a lot of nasty people out there who want me dead, hence the cover identity.”

“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll let it slip?”  He asked, following Decker to the saloon.

“If you do, I’ll just switch names and get a new face.  Right now, we need to trust each other over more than the delight of a
T’klach
vintage.”

“
T’klach
vintage?”  Verrill whistled softly.  “Nice.  I may begin to like you, Zack Decker aka Bill Whate.  You were a janissary with Tran Kinnear?”

“I was his commanding officer in the Kashdushiya, the slave-soldier regiment.”

“Interesting.  Any regular military experience?”

“Twenty years in the Corps.”

They reached the saloon door, and Zack stepped aside to let his guest enter first.

“Verrill, I’d like you to meet my captain and partner, Pru Pasek.”  He gestured towards Talyn, who’d risen from the bench, holding out her hand.

“Pleasure, Captain.”

He tested her briefly and smiled when she winked at him.  Turning to the other two he nodded.

“Miko, Tran.  Well done.  This looks like a hell of a good find.  Zack gave me a tiny thumbnail sketch of his bona fides and based on that, I think we can actually use him.”

“Did he tell you he used to be a Marine Pathfinder in a previous life?”  Kinnear asked.

“No, but somehow I’m not surprised after the stories you told me of your time in the Trans-Coalsack.  Now,” he rubbed his hands together, “I was lured here with the promise of fine alien hooch.”

“And I always keep my promises,” Zack held out a cold bottle.  Verrill took it with near-reverence and scanned the label.

“You weren’t kidding.”

“I never joke when it comes to the good stuff.”  He passed out more of the potent brew then took one for himself, twisting off the stopper in a natural motion.  “Mud in your eye, freedom fighters.”

“Skoal.”  Verrill took a long sip, his face brightening with sheer delight at the taste.  “You are a man of refinement and principles, Zack Decker aka Bill Whate.”

“Live in close quarters with Zack for a while before complimenting him.  His idea of elegance is not walking around the bridge in his birthday suit,” Talyn said, smirking.

“Sure,” Decker nodded, smiling pleasantly, “and if you don’t like my principles, I can find others to suit.”

Verrill chuckled.

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Sit.”  Zack pointed at the bench.  “We’re at least refined enough not to eat standing up.”

“Glad to hear it.”  Verrill slid in beside Steiger.  He gave her a quizzical glance, and she nodded.

“Tell me, Zack, if I run your real name through the net, what’s going to come up?”  He asked.

“Not much,” Decker replied, busy at the autochef.  “Service dates, my retirement a few years ago, membership in the merchant guild, that sort of stuff.  Although,” he turned his head to glance at Verrill with a crooked grin, “if you check the dark corners of the net, you might find that there’s still a price on my head.”

“And you, Captain Pasek?”

Talyn laughed.

“You’ll find a lot less.  I’ve haven’t had a colorful life like my partner, thankfully.  I’m not sure I’d survive what he’s been through.”

“So why is a retired Marine skirting the outer edge of the law.”

“A man’s got to make a living somehow, and this does just fine.  I know what’ll get the Fleet’s attention, which means we can calibrate our contracts to stay out of sight.”  Decker distributed meal trays and then sat down in front of his own serving.  “It’s a good life if you have no anchors.”

“Have you ever had dealings with the Avalon Corporation?”  Verrill took a bit of his chicken and chewed thoughtfully, waiting for a reply.

“Here and there,” Decker replied, noncommittally.  “The grunts aren’t bad, as corporate mercs go.  The higher-ups in their shiny executive offices?  Politically connected scum.”

“Avalon’s been contracted by Celeste to provide a naval blockade around Garonne and the government might even hire ground troops in the not too distant future.”

Zack shrugged, cutting another slice off his meat.

“I said they weren’t bad, and I meant that in the sense of respecting the Rules of War.  As fighters, well, they’re mercs and don’t have the incentive to die for a cause.  You folks, if you truly believe in Garonne independence, do.  Advantage: freedom fighters.”

“Pretty cynical view, isn’t it?”

“Realistic.”

Decker popped a chunk into his mouth and chewed slowly, meeting Verrill’s eyes without embarrassment.

“See,” he said after swallowing, “the Celeste government can’t deploy its National Guard to Garonne, at least not as formed units and definitely no spacecraft.  The laws laid down after the massacres of the Second Migration War pretty much bars any transport of planetary troops without Fleet authorization and no Grand Admiral is going to sign off on that.  So if the colonial militia can’t handle things, they hire mercs.”

“I’ve taken the usual political science pap at university,” Verrill replied.  “What’s your point?”

“You can kick Avalon Corporation ass from here to the galactic core, and all you’ll get from Fleet HQ is a big fat yawn.  So your governor hired Avalon.  So what?  Wallop 'em enough and they’ll raise their rates until they break the bank.  Then they walk away.”

“And we’re still sounding pretty cynical.”

“Take it from me,” Zack replied around a mouthful of steamed vegetables, “I’ve seen this story before.  If you’re ready to die, the mercs don’t stand much of a chance.  They didn’t sign up to meet their maker.  The Corps?  That’s another story.  Once they land, you can kiss your rebellious butt goodbye.  The trick is to become the colonial government that welcomes the dropships instead of remaining nasty rebel scum.  You can do that, you’re golden.  Just make sure you don’t execute the previous administration without a fair trial.  These days, the Fleet never overturns the will of the people, even if it came out of the barrel of a gun.  Hispaniola cured it of any nation-building delusions it might have had.”

“I gather you were there?”  Verrill sounded interested.

“Yep.”  Decker pushed his empty tray aside and sat back.  “Damn near was the death of me.  My buddy and I ended up in a mob show and no live ammo.  I still have nightmares about it.  Biggest body count the Corps saw since the last Shrehari war so it’s not about to repeat the experience.”