Black Dawn (10 page)

Two days later, Coy had settled into the Captain's quarters on
the
Nighthawk
, and proceeded to run the small crew ragged.
Everyone pulled at least double shifts learning their primary
and secondary positions, as well as filling in wherever else they were
needed.
Lamont passed an exhausted, smudged Drea Carson in the corridor between second and third shift. Second was supposed to be her
sleep period, but she was trudging from the direction of Engineering.
She almost passed before she remembered to salute. Coy returned it without expression.
Before she moved on through, she said, “Commodore?”
Coy stopped and turned to face her, an expression of polite
inquiry on its face. “Yes, Trainee Carson?”
She opened her mouth, but then shut it, shook her head, and
moved on. Lamont continued in the other direction. Just before she
rounded a bend in the corridor, however, she turned and blurted out,
“How long is
this going to go on, sir?”
“Is what going to go on, Trainee?”
She waved helplessly at the walls and the ship around her.
“This! Working us to death.”
Lamont frowned. “You look alive to me.”
Drea sighed. “Yes, sir.”
“Was there anything else?”
Another sigh. “No, sir.”
“Good. Carry on, Trainee.”

Mara Hendricks stood before the Captain's quarters, nervous,
but determined. She tugged on her new, black uniform jacket,
straightening out some non-existent wrinkles.

Finally, she took a breath, and pushed the buzzer to announce
her arrival.
“Enter,” came the Commodore's voice over the com speaker.
At that word, the door opened and she stepped into the room.
“Trainee Hendricks reporting as ordered, sir.”
She came to
attention before the desk Lamont sat at and saluted.
Lamont returned the salute. “At ease, Trainee. This isn't a
review.”
She relaxed her stance, and clasped her hands behind her.
Lamont nodded at the other person in the room. “Sergeant
Schiff and I are plotting some emergency drills for the crew. I would
like your input on how well you think they'll do.”
“The Troopers or the Techs?”
Coy shrugged. “Either. Both.”
Hendricks thought only a moment. “The best trooper under
duress that we've got is McKinney. Reinhart and Cook are good fighters individually, but they don't have the necessary teamwork.”
“Hmmm. And Meiser?”
Hendricks smiled. “You want me to out predict a fortuneteller? Okay, my best guess is that she will do as she's told, and little
more. Personally, I think she lacks the---initiative--to be a mercenary.”
Lamont raised an eyebrow at Schiff. The sergeant nodded his
head in reply to some unspoken message. So far the assessment had
lined up exactly with the sergeant’s. Lamont turned back to Mara.
“What about the Techs?”
“They're good. I'd trust Phil Torren with my life. He's quiet,
but he has those engineers hopping. Biggs may complain a lot, but he
knows these type engines in and out. Savalo is one of those
born
techs. Edwards may be learning the ropes, but he's coming along. He
was a good bet.”
Lamont looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. “You seem
to have everyone analyzed.” Mara gave a careful shrug.
“I like to know the people I work with.”
“Very good. Bridge officers.”
“Nathan sucks up a little too much for my taste, but he's a
good navigator, as far as I can see. Carson's....” she grimaced.
Coy gave a small frown. “I was under the impression that she
was coming along.”
“She is. She knows how to run the com equipment. She
would just rather be running people.”
Schiff barked a laugh.
Coy frowned him quiet. “She needs this chance as much as
anyone else here.”
“Yes, sir.” Hendricks remained standing at parade rest.
“Anyway,” Coy continued, “you seem to have a handle on the
crew. I want you up there on deck, keeping an eye on things during
the drills.”
“Yes, sir!” she repeated, only with much more enthusiasm.
Coy kept her a bay a few moments more. “It's not going to be
much of a surprise to anyone if I hand command over to you, is it,
Trainee Hendricks?”
Mara hardly batted an eye. “
If
?”
“Yes, Trainee, there are other contingencies,” it said lightly.
“The next few drills are going to be essential to my final evaluation.”
Hendricks pulled her stance a little tighter, and added more
respect to her tone. “Yes, sir.”
Coy eyed her. “Very good. Dismissed.”
She saluted again, and practically marched out.
“Spunky thing,” Schiff grinned. “What exactly are you waiting
for?”
Coy thought over its motives. “Respect.”
“You just got that.”
“I noticed.”
“Anything else?”
Lamont gave a very small sigh. “Nothing substantial. She just
doesn't----transmit----what you or Butler did when we met.”
Schiff blinked. What in the hell did I 'transmit'?”
Coy recalled the conversation as if it had been moments instead of months before.
“A loathing of your former situation. Intense pride and professionalism, associated with being a soldier. An intent to be something
more than the people back home thought you could.”
The sergeant's jaw dropped. “I said all that?”
“No, but that's what I heard. Was I close?”
“Dead center.”
“Good. I heard the same type message from Bon, and Ken
Butler. I don't hear it from Mara as plainly.”
“What do you hear?”
“That we're a stepping stone. A path chosen out of desperation, to get another command.”
Schiff frowned. That's rather harsh.”
“I know. I'm hoping the drills will change either her message,
or my interpretation.”
“And if it doesn't?”
“Butler gets the job, and she's his Exec until
something
changes.”
Unexpectedly, Schiff nodded agreement. “Don't ever give in,
Skipper. Don't ever forget that all this is yours.”
Coy stared at him and this seemingly irrelevant comment. But
Schiff said nothing more on the subject. After an awkward moment,
they turned back to designing some 'interesting' drills for the
Nighthawk
crew.

Coy was watching the
Nighthawk’s
troopers working out with
Schiff when it got a call from the
Raven
that Vennefron’s shuttle had
arrived.

“
On my way,” it spoke into its wristcom even as it turned to
head down to the shuttle bay and get a ride over to the flagship.
Once onboard, it hurried into Sick Bay to find Ceal waiting at
the door. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.
“What’s up?” Coy asked, worried that something had gone
wrong with the re-animation process.
“I just think he needs to talk to you,” she said. And with no
further explanation, led Coy in. Vennefron was seated on an exam bed
looking grim.
“Anton!” Coy greeted him. “Welcome back!”
Vennefron looked up with his typical bleak expression. No,
this was even more bleak than the pessimistic young man had usually
looked. “Hello, sir.”
Coy frowned briefly at Ceal. “Is everything okay?”
“Physically, he’s more fit than when he first came to us,” she
reported.
Coy looked back at Venn. It had known one other fellow crew
member who had been reanimated. That man had never been the same.
Eventually, he had left the fleet and disappeared. It was just too hard
for some people to come to grips with the experience.
It walked over and looked Venn in the eye. “It must be strange
to come back.”
Vennefron looked a little relieved that someone understood.
“Yes, sir. They gave us tons of therapy at the hospital. Told us all
about the physical changes as they happened. Helped us get back in
shape. They just never really seemed to prepare us for going back and
facing people who knew we’d been…” he swallowed, “…knew I’d
been dead.”
Coy nodded, even though it really didn’t understand. “It may
seem different to you for awhile. But if you want to know how we
feel… You make the BlackFleet complete again. We weren’t whole
without everyone.”
Venn gave a small, not quite heartfelt smile. “Thank you, sir.”
“And when I think you’re ready, I’ll have a nice medal to give
you.”
“A medal for being stupid enough to hit a live grenade?”
“Or for saving the life of your CO, all of our rescuees and your
teammates.”
His expression lightened a little. “Just returning the favor,
Commodore,” he said sincerely. “If you hadn’t signed me on…” he
shook his head instead of finishing. “In fact, this makes two times
you’ve given me my life back. Seems I still owe you one.”
Coy shook its head, but had no idea how to express how it felt.
In the end, it merely gave Venn a little clap on the shoulder, reiterated
its welcome, and fled back to the
Nighthawk.

It was a week later, Vennefron had settled back into his duties
and the ‘hazing’ period had slowed a little when the 'screamer' on
Lamont's wrist com went off smack in the middle of its sleep shift,
jerking it awake with an adrenaline rush. Coy hit the button on the unit
as it lunged from the bed, killing the alarm.

“
Lamont to bridge.” Slipping into black pants and boots, it
was again grateful for the voice activated coms that allowed a person
use of both hands during emergencies.

“
Bridge,” Schiff's voice came back.
“We've got a live one.
We’ve picked up a mayday close by. Appears to be a yacht being
chased by pirates.”

By this time, Coy was pulling its jacket on and heading out the
door and up to the command center. “Best time?”
“This thing's less than an hour away.”
Lamont swore. “Pirates this close to a system?”
“Brave or stupid,” Schiff commented; his tone indicating
which it was that he thought.
Coy entered the lift tube at the same time as Hendricks. She
raised an inquiring brow. Coy nodded at her. “This is real.”
Hendricks said nothing. Her mouth set determinedly, she
swung out of the tube right behind her Commodore.
Phil Torren reported in via com from his post in engineering,
Durand did the same from Sick Bay. Nathan sat at Navigation, but
Schiff himself still manned the com board.
“Where....” Hendricks began just as Drea Carson dashed into
the room and to her station. Her uniform would never pass inspection
and her normally flowing dark curls had been hastily pulled into an
untidy ponytail.
“Your quarters are closer than mine, Trainee,” Hendricks stated simply.
“I know Ma’am but....”after a look at Hendricks’ and Lamont’s faces, she wisely halted her self defense and with a red faced
“Yes, ma’am”, turned to her station.
Schiff gave her the seat and quietly brought her up to date.
“Com, I want a link to all ship commanders,” Lamont said
crisply.
“Y--aye, sir, “ her hands flew over the board. “Link established.”
Once all three ships had co-ordinates, they set off in the direction of the conflict. As Schiff had stated, it took less than an hour.
But it was not a yacht. It was a passenger liner. Dead in space
and surrounded by small ships. Nathan gave a low whistle as he
counted. “Twenty-six fighters. Looks like a feeding frenzy.”
Coy Lamont, hailing from a world with virtually no wildlife,
had never heard the reference before, but gathered the meaning easily
enough.
“Com, broadcast to them.”
“Aye, sir.” She was much more together now, and had even
straightened the ponytail a little, during the flight.
“This is Commodore Coy Lamont commanding the BlackFleet
Mercenaries. Move away from the liner. You have two minutes to
comply.”
A few seconds later, a holo-image formed above their console.
“Who the hell do you think you are, and what the hell do you
think you're doing?” the image of a grimy, aging man bellowed.
“I told you who I was,” Coy stated calmly. “And I'm breaking
this up. You have a minute 30.”
The man laughed. “On whose authority?”
“My own. A minute fifteen.”
“'Till what?”
“Until we open fire.”
The man's eyes went cold and hard. “Wrong answer.”
The image disappeared. At the same moment, the small ships
began to move.
“Shields on full power!” Lamont shouted out and heard acknowledgment from all three bridges. It looked at Hendricks. “You
have command here. I'll be in Tac.”
“Aye, sir. I have command.”
Before Coy could turn to leave, the first volley hit their
shields. The deck shook under their feet.
“Pack quite a punch for such little guys,” Butler's voice came
over the command link.
“They'll go for the
Blackbird
,” Lamont told them. It went
down the corridor at a jog, and swung into the Tac room. The scale
holo-model of local space in the center of the room lit up upon Coy's
entry, displaying everyone's position. Sure enough, a swarm was heading for the '
Bird
.
“We're ready,” Rebel announced.
“Offense or defense?” Butler asked.
“We'll draw them away,” Coy ordered. “You use the
Raven's
shields to help cover the gap in the liner. I'm showing them bleeding a
lot of air.”
The Tac comp also showed a circle of ships around the
'Hawk
,
powering up their weapons. They fired simultaneously. The
Nighthawk
shook once more as its shields were battered.
“No permanent damage,” engineering reported immediately.
“Back ups on standby.”
“Weapons?” Lamont barked.
“Full power,” Nathan assured it.
Coy gave a grim smile. “Fire at will.”
Nathan blew a path straight through the swarm. Over on the
Raven
, Kensie Parker did the same, even as the flagship sidled up to
the bleeding liner, enveloping her with the
Raven's
shields.
Lamont focused its attentions on the
Blackbird
. “Get them off
Rebel's tail,” it ordered the
Nighthawk's
gunner. “This is not the time
to test the limits of her defenses.”
“Aye, sir.” Nathan mumbled distractedly as he lined up his
shots.
The pirates' speed and numbers against the BlackFleet's size
and power was making for an interesting battle. The swarm’s tactics
seemed to be to send in wave after wave of fighters close to the surface
of an opposing ship, using high relative speed and pinpoint targeting in
an effort to overload the bigger ship’s shields. They were staying too
close to the hulls of the
Blackbird
itself to target the small ships safely.
Nathan, too, had to wait and time his shots for when a ship swung out
away from their prey.
Down in the Tac room Lamont studied the scene in frustration.
“Hendricks, move the
Nighthawk
as close to the
Raven
as possible
without touching shields. Rebel, make a pass between us.”
“You gotta be kid...!” came Myke Pedula’s voice over the com
line.
“What was that,
Blackbird
?” Coy asked.
“We said, ‘aye sir’,” Rebel answered as the ships began to
move together.
The maneuver quite effectively scraped the fighters off of pursuing the
Blackbird,
and out into space. It also served to temporarily
disrupt the small ships’ carefully coordinated attack, so neither the
Nighthawk’s
nor the
Raven’s
gunners wasted any time locking on to
the suddenly exposed and confused fighters. When a good third of the
pirates' fighters had been destroyed or disabled, they at last began to
withdraw.
The grimy man with the cold eyes came on the viewer one last
time.
“Commodore Coy Lamont of the BlackFleet Mercenaries,
you've made an enemy today.”
The image stared at Coy for a moment as if memorizing its
face.
“Does my enemy come with a name?” Coy asked.
A frightening smile tugged at the man's face before he disappeared without answering. The swarm took off at top speed, leaving
their damaged comrades to limp along on their own.
“So much for honor among thieves,” Butler's voice commented.
Lamont ignored him. “
Blackbird
, damages?”
“We're a little crispy in places,” Rebel replied. “Life support
is on line. Engines are operational. Shields are on emergency power
only. I'm not sure what magic tricks Luka conjured up to make them
hold on as long as they did.”
“No injuries?”
“No. But we need more full time bridge personnel, that’s for
sure.”
“Noted. Dock in the
Raven
as soon as Butler gives the okay.”
Lamont checked in with everyone, then made arrangements to meet
with the captain of the liner aboard the
Raven
.
Before leaving the , however, it made a quick visit to its
cabin and then back to the bridge. Everyone was still there. Coy
walked straight to the Navigator/Weapons station.
“Trainee Nathan!”
The surprised young man leapt to his feet.
“Sir!”
Coy put out its hand. “Well done-----Lieutenant.”
Somewhat in a daze, Ezra Nathan returned the handshake and
felt a small piece of metal pressed into his palm. He looked down at
the rectangle pin bearing the thin stripe of a Lieutenant.
Coy then turned to the engineer, and repeated the gesture.
“Excellent job, Commander Torren.”
The almost-albino flushed with pleasure.
And next to him, as dark as Torren was pale...
“Congratulations, Captain Hendricks.”
Mara took her pin with more grin than grace. “Yes, sir. Thank
you, sir.”
Drea Carson sat with her back to all this, dutifully managing
her console.
“Trainee Carson.”
Drea turned, stood, and faced Lamont, head held high and
proud. Coy took in the personal shame behind the proud eyes. “Do
you want this?”
She knew what it meant, and it wasn’t just a piece of metal for
her collar it was talking about. This job, this opportunity. This responsibility. “Yes, sir. I do.”
“Then carry on, Ensign.”
Ensign, not Lieutenant. That carried a lot of meanings in itself. Yes, she could be a Bridge officer, but she had a lot of learning to
do. Still, Carson stared almost in disbelief at the insignia it held out
realizing it was probably the only thing in her whole life she had
earned on her own.
“Sir, I…”
Coy gave her a firm nod, and for the first time in as long as she
could remember, Carson felt as though someone believed in her. Everything about the whole horrible morning was momentarily forgotten-
-except for that nod. And the small pin in her hand.
Lamont spoke to them all.
“According to BlackFleet tradition,” which it had just made up on the spot, “ you may wear your
rank insignia for one duty day---then it will go on your dress uniform
permanently.”
Captain Hendricks snapped to attention and saluted. Her crew
followed suit. Lamont returned them, collected Schiff and headed toward the shuttle bay.
The Fleet stood watch over the crippled passenger liner while
it made emergency repairs to its hull and whatever vital systems had
been damaged. The
Blackbird
, likewise sat nestled in the
Raven’s
bay,
having her wounds tended.
Which gave everyone plenty of time to analyze the experience.
“You know what we need, don’t you?” asked Ken Butler at the
command staff meeting. “We need some of those little guys of our
own.”
Lamont merely stared at him without saying a word.
“Ah, Skipper,” Rebel interrupted the silence. “I’d have to
agree. If there’s going to be any more incidents like this one, that is.”
“Which we don’t know,” Bon said.
“If we met them once, we could meet them again.” Hendricks
remembered quite well the pirate’s parting remarks.
“Fighters,” Lamont said without inflection. “Which means pilots, and support crew, not to mention somewhere to dock and launch
them.”
“I didn’t say it would be quick and easy,” Butler defended, “I
said it was necessary. Sir.”
Coy blew out a long breath. It looked over at Schiff, whom it
always invited to sit in despite his lack of command rank. “Any
comments?”
The sergeant thought a moment. “I’ve always been a ground
trooper. Space battles are not my area of expertise, you might say.
But whether you’re on the ground or not, you need the right tools to
win.”
Lamont paused in thought a few moments more. “Well, unless
by some miracle the owner of this cruise line has a load of fighter ships
they want to give us in return for our good deeds, I think this subject
will have to be tabled for a while.” It looked at Butler, but the captain
made no more comments. “Our immediate Fleet needs are personnel
and to build up our information network.”
“For more jobs?” Rebel asked.
Coy nodded. That plus tracking down who these guys were
and where they disappeared to.”
“You want to go looking for them?” Hendricks asked. “I mean,
you
want
to meet up with them again?”
“I want to find out who was behind them. Who our “enemy”
is. This,” it jabbed a finger angrily at the table for emphasis, “is exactly the type of thing we exist to put a stop to. People who think they
can fly around attacking civilian targets and not pay for it.” Coy
looked around the table at their faces and saw its own determination
mirrored in them. It took a calming breath. “To begin with, I sent
Lieutenant Aziza over to the
liner to help them with any computer damage. While there, he just
happened to collect quite a few names of contacts at the various stations on the line’s route. Not only company personnel, but also several
others who could possibly have information on activity in this area.
He’s sitting down with Vennefron right now working on the list.” Its
eyes narrowed. “No matter what it takes,” a look at Butler, “ no matter
what tools we need to have, the BlackFleet is going to stop this.”