Black Dawn (11 page)

Coy sat in its cabin, slouched on the couch, staring at nothing.
A mug of tea sat on the table, untouched, slowly cooling off. Coy
heard a small clink of china and focused on the here and now. The cup
was now steaming . It thought back. It had all started with its com link
chiming its familiar call.

“
Butler to Lamont.”
“Lamont. Go ahead.”
“Skipper, we have another one of the passengers here to see

It had had about a thousand things going through its mind at
the time and really hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone. But several of the
people they had saved from the pirates had not only been extremely
grateful, but extremely wealthy as well, and had guaranteed not a few
Favors over and above the one from the cruise line itself. Well, except
for the liner’s piano player who had offered his services should the
BlackFleet ever happen to need a lounge singer. But perhaps this was
another of the ones who had means. It could well be worth the time.

“
Have them escorted to my quarters.”
“Aye, sir.”
The man who arrived at Coy’s door turned out to be one Rogelio Asch, a passenger from the economy section who had barely paid
his fare. He was trembling with nerves but determined to pay off his
debt.

“
How?”
Coy asked bluntly.
“I can work it off.
“This is a battle ship. What do you propose I have you do?”
Asch looked at his hands. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll

Coy relaxed back in its chair.
“My crew is handpicked. They
are the finest soldiers - the finest people. What exactly is your training?”

Asch looked crushed.
“II’m no soldier,” he admitted painfully, “I’m nothing.”
Coy had responded to his obvious grief. “Everybody is something. What have you done in your life?”
“Before I lost everything, I owned a restaurant.” Bitterness
tinged his voice.
Coy sat up straighter. “You ran a restaurant?”
“Yes.”
“Ordered supplies? Food? Equipment?”
“Of course.”
Coy blinked. Why is that nothing?”
Slowly, Asch went on to explain his family history. How his
military and politically important parents had scoffed at his desire to
go into the restaurant business.
“What about a career as a ship’s steward? Or Acquisitions?”
Coy asked.
He shook his head. “It would’ve been a compromise simply to
please them. And that’s no way to live.”
“I see,” Coy said thoughtfully. “So you would be opposed to a
job with us doing just that?”
“Doing what?”
Coy smiled. We could very well use someone with
knowledge in acquisitions, accounting, that sort of thing. If you’re interested.”
“You don’t have someone doing that sort of thing?”
“I have myself. And frankly, I have enough other ways to use
my time.”
Asch paused. Commodore, I passed up all the benefits and
education my parents offered because I was arrogant enough to think I
was right. Are you sure you want to hire someone like me?”
In answer, Coy put out its hand. And Asch took it.

So now the Fleet had an acquisitions officer who decided, in
his “off” hours to double as Lamont’s personal steward. Coy objected
at first, not having any experience with a servant of any kind. But Asch
seemed to have an almost telepathic ability to know what his commander needed and when. No more cold tea. With a faint disapproving frown, the cup would disappear and a fresh hot one would take its
place.

And Asch was just as efficient with Fleet business .Even
though the job had been growing as steadily as the fleet itself had.
They were now at three ships and forty people.

Butler still wanted more, of course. And who knew what
could fall into their lap next week? Coy Lamont sure didn’t. It got up
from the couch and began pacing. Fall into their laps. That was the
problem. The whole reason it was in such a mood tonight. The way
the
Raven
had fallen into Coy’s lap was an ongoing mystery. It had
been rather easily pushed to the background in the manic first days of
the BlackFleet. But now that many of the routine jobs had been delegated to others, Coy had more time to ponder such mysteries.

The huge black craft was any shipmaster’s dream. Precision
built, as elegant in design as it was deadly in battle. Who in their right
mind would wager such a possession in a card game?
Someone who
wanted to get rid of it quickly and cleanly.

Possible scenarios played through its mind again as it paced.
Number 1- the man had not been in his right mind. Possible, but not
probable. Number 2 - The man had owed someone a lot of back payments. More probable, but somehow it didn’t ring true with Coy’s assessment of his character. Number 3 - It was hot and whoever the
rightful owners were got too close. Unfortunately for Coy and the
BlackFleet that one seemed the most possible and probable. Now why
someone would steal something that large and easily identifiable was
still another question. Could it have been cover? A smoke screen to
hide an even more valuable theft? Something more valuable than the
amount that a ship like that would’ve cost to build. And, as Bon had
pointed out early on, someone out there didn’t know the
Raven
had
changed hands.

The mystery branched out in several directions from there.
Who they were, what they were doing to find their possession, what
they would do when they did find out...The only thing that wasn’t a
mystery was how the BlackFleet would respond. It was their ship
now. And woe to the force that tried to take it from them.

Coy smiled a very unhumorous smile at that thought. They
would make more enemies that day.
‘Commodore Coy Lamont of the BlackFleet, you’ve made an
enemy today.’
The quote echoed in its mind. The parting remarks of the pirate leader. No, it corrected its own thought. Not the leader. The battle leader perhaps, but hardly the person pulling the strings. Little
ships like the ones they had used needed a lot of backup. A mother
ship and technical crew. Someone bigger was out there somewhere,
and they were mad at Coy.
Terrific. The ’s original owners mad at it, pirates mad at
it -- maybe it should start a collection. See just how many people in
the universe it could piss off at one time. It sighed. It would be a
whole lot simpler if all of these potential enemies were one person.
It’s a lot easier to aim at one target..... Coy sank slowly down into a
nearby chair as it thought about that one.
What if someone were pulling the strings for all the raids that
had been ever increasing. Sure, with industry in the area growing so
quickly everyone was prepared for some increase in incidents, but no
one had been prepared for what was happening now. Coy spent the
rest of the evening and most of the night (much to Asch’s disapproval)
pacing and pondering and pouring over records of every incident reported so far.

The next
Coy called a meeting of all senior staff as it
had been in the habit of doing. After routine ship reports, however,
Lamont put forth its fledging theory of one source behind the raids.

“
The only common denominator so far is timing.” Coy pulled
up the data it had been working with the night before on all their vidcoms. “You can see a normal spattering of raids and trouble for most
of the time Beta Region has been populated. Then suddenly the amount
spikes up in the last year. It does not follow the growth curve of trade
as I would have thought. It’s almost as if they were all influenced by
the same catalyst. The question is who would benefit,” it finished up.

Butler stared.
“You’re serious. You think some person,
somewhere is strong enough to orchestrate all the pirates and thugs in
this whole part of space?”

“They wouldn’t have to ‘orchestrate’ them,”
Schiff told him.
“Just hire each group to do a job.”
“Not even that,” Rebel added. “Assuming the objective is not
the loot itself, but some outcome brought about by the activity. If no
one was counting on splitting the spoils they wouldn’t have to hire anyone. Just make sure they had names, flight plans, cargo manifests.
Enough to encourage the strike without being directly involved.”
Coy nodded along with Rebel’s reasoning. The two of them
often thought alike it realized. Not like it and Ken Butler who seemed
to always be butting heads. No, that was unfair. Ken’s job as Lamont’s exec was to play Devil’s Advocate and point out all of the
flaws before they became plans. And that was exactly what he was
doing right now. With enthusiasm.
“You’re all paranoid,” the captain was saying. “We can’t run
our daily business looking over our shoulder for the Boogeyman all the
time.”
Bon cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Pretend for a moment
that I’m just a poor uninformed techie and explain to me what our ‘daily business’ is.”
Everyone paused a minute. They looked around at each other
like students caught without the answer.
Coy nodded at Bon. Good idea. Time to refocus.
“Well, we’re...” Rebel drawled and with a hand gesture passed
it off to the next person.
“Heroes,” Schiff said firmly. “We help who needs our help.”
“Right now everybody in the galaxy seems to need help,”
Hendricks commented.
“And the best way to do that is to stop the harassment.
Hence...” Coy began.
“We have to find who’s harassing them,” Butler said and gave
a melodramatic sigh. “So now this is Operation Boogeyman.”
Lamont became more serious. “This is not an imaginary monster in your closet, Ken. There is a real something out there causing all
of this.”
Butler was serious as well. “Skipper, going after one pirate at a
time is one thing. But you’re talking about something big. Really big.
Really bigger than us. We don’t have the manpower or hardware to
fight a real war.”
“We won’t be fighting the war for awhile. We’ll be investigating. Every rescue we make holds a clue.”
“What about local skirmishes? Civil Wars?” Rebel asked.
“The jobs that don’t have anything to do with pirates.”
Lamont shook its head. “Don’t make the assumption it’s not
related. If it upsets things in the area it could be part of the picture. I
believe you said it right. The...” it looked at Butler “ ‘Boogeyman’
could be mainly interested in an outcome that all this upheaval is only
contributing to.
“But as much as I hate to admit it, Captain Butler is right.”
Coy ignored the feigned look of shock Ken wore. “Eventually we are
going to need more guns. If we get any leads through our network of a
good deal, I’ll look into it. Also I need to delegate some of the hiring.
Captain Bon and Major Schiff will both be authorized to interview recruits.”
Both men stared openmouthed as Coy handed them each a pin.
As usual, Schiff was the first to recover.
He looked straight into his commodore’s eyes. “You’re sure.”
“Yes.”
Bon couldn’t decide which was the bigger surprise, the promotion or the policy change.
“Commodore,” he began, then merely
smiled.
Lamont gave him a nod in return. It stood, indicating dismissal and returned their salutes.
Schiff paused as everyone filed out. “Gym?”
“I’ll be there.” Coy frowned at his empty collar. “Are you forgetting procedure?”
Without expression, Schiff clipped it on, saluted again and left.
Lamont smiled, knowing the new major had hoped to avoid the scores
of congratulations he would now receive. Oh, well, one of the hazards
of being a hero.

Thump! Talk about hazards. Coy tumbled over its head and
landed flat on the mat, a victim of Schiff’s perfectly timed tai-otoshi
throw. The last several minutes had been an exercise in striking and
blocking, with little ground gained. The strain was beginning to tell on
even these two frequent sparring partners.

“
Who was that for?” it managed to pant.
“Pierce.” As Coy had predicted, Schiff objected to all the congratulations he had been receiving since the promotion. “She practically kissed me.”
Lamont got to its feet, although it still couldn’t quite straighten
up all the way. “ Oh, right, there’s a horrible fate.”
Schiff frowned. “She’s under my command,” he said as he
feinted in and out of Coy’s reach, searching for an opening.
“She’s under mine, too.”
“Commodore...” Schiff’s frown changed from subtle teasing to
inquiry.
Coy waved it off. “No, I haven’t. But, come on, Walter, I’m
half male, and she’s gorgeous. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought...”
before it knew what had happened, Coy was again down, gasping for
air.
“Keep your mind on business,” Schiff advised.
From the floor, Lamont raised a brow at his obvious double
meaning. “You don’t think I do?”
Schiff paused then shrugged. “It’s not my concern.”
“You don’t bring up things that aren’t your concern. It’s one
of the reasons I talk to you, Walter. I always get a honest answer.”
“And what is it you need an honest answer to?”
“Do you think Fleet regulations are too strict?”
“Why? You want to ask Pierce out?”
“Or Bon.” At Schiff’s surprised look, it grinned. “You forget.
I have options.” The Major was in the midst of launching a flurry of
strikes, but slowed abruptly as much in shock at the grin as the subject
matter. To cover his surprise, he said “ I thought we came here to work
out, not....”
Breath or no breath, Coy was not going to pass this one up.
After only a moment’s struggle Schiff went down with a very satisfying thud. When oxygen was flowing correctly again, Coy made it as
far as hands and knees. “How about a nice game of chess next time?”
“Sissy game,” Schiff commented, still lying on the floor.
“Maybe, but you’re not
sore
the next day.” Lamont got the
rest of the way up and came to stand over the trooper. It offered a
hand up which Schiff ignored for a moment. “Come on, let me gloat
over my one good throw of the day.”
With a shake of his head, he let himself be hauled to his feet.
“You’re out of shape, Kid,” he told his commander.
Coy had the sick feeling what was coming, but had no time to
throw up its guard...

It massaged its shoulder absently as it sat at a table in the
crew’s mess with Ceal Byars. She noted the gesture, professionally.
“Been playing with Walter again?”
Coy merely grimaced.
She took a bite of sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. “He
came to see me. He was concerned about you.”
Coy frowned. “He thinks I’m that out of shape?”
She shook her head. “No, he said…he said you were grinning
and joking.”
Coy paused mid drink, tea mug almost to its lips. Then it continued the drink and set the mug down carefully. “I see.”
“Well, I don’t. You said…”
“Perhaps I said too much.”
“Coy , everybody needs to unload sometimes.”
“Unloading will not change anything.”
“How do you…”
“We are here to have lunch,” it told her firmly. “Not therapy.”
Ceal knew enough to drop the subject for now. She swallowed
her frustration and washed it down with coffee. “So where’s yours?”
“My what?”
She nodded at the mug sitting by itself in front of Coy. “Your
lunch.”
“I had breakfast.”
“So?”
Coy sighed. “All right, fine. I’ll get...”
A sandwich landed on the table next to the mug. Lamont
looked up to see a grinning Ken Butler.
“If you two ever decide to conspire in a mutiny, I’m in trouble.”
“Ha,” the captain winked at Ceal and took a seat with them.
“It’s on to us.”
“Guilty of conspiracy to do lunch,” Byars admitted.
Lamont obediently took a bite.
Before it could even swallow, its wrist com let out a long shrill
tone. It wasn’t hard to figure why the distress call indicator was called
a “screamer”. Coy stood up.
“Ahem!” Ceal nodded at the sandwich.
Coy picked it up, wrapped a napkin around it, and headed out
and down the corridor to the Int/Sec office. It knew that in all three
ships, every member of the BlackFleet was hurrying to their primary
duty stations at the same time. “Lamont,” it said into its wrist com.
“What’s up?”
“Aziza, here, sir. We’ve got a general distress. Small and
close.”
“How small?”
“At a guess, I’d say a pod. Maybe a shuttle.”
A guess? Lieutenant Aziza had spent countless hours listening
to every known signal ships could make. Devyu took his description
of communication officer very seriously.
Lamont reached I/S barely in front of Schiff. Vennefron was
there already, taking the data that was coming down from Aziza’s
scanners and making a detailed comparison of the facts they had so far
- known trade routes, types of ships in the area etc.
“Whatever it is,” he said over his shoulder, “it’s close.”
Coy read over the data. “Anything due to be out here about
now?”
Venn shook his head. “Nothing that we know of.”
“Aziza said it could be a pod. That would mean a larger ship
should be within our scanning range.”
“Unless they dropped it and jumped,” Schiff speculated.
Coy straightened up and looked at him. “You don’t suppose it
could be bait?”
“ No message or identification,” Venn added.
Schiff frowned at that. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
Coy read over Venn’s information once more. “No need to
take chances. We go in with shields on max.”
A few hours later, the BlackFleet made visual contact and
found it to be a shuttle, not an escape pod. The
Raven
hailed them repeatedly with no response. Coy, connected to all the ship commanders
via the com system, stood in the Tac Room studying the holovid display.
“It is small,” Butler’s voice said. “We could haul it into the
bay and then open it up.”
“I don’t care to be on the other side of a Trojan Horse,” Coy
told him, “and have the
Raven
blown apart from the inside.”
“Well, it was only a suggestion...” Butler trailed off.
Somewhere in the back of Coy’s mind it wondered if it should
worry whether Ken was serious at times like that. But, for now on with
the problem at hand. “Anyone see anything we’re missing?”
“It seems like someone is trying to compensate for their drift
now and then,” Bon answered, “Otherwise I’d think it was a derelict
with an automated beacon.”
“Could they be scared the wrong people picked up their call?”
Rebel asked.
“Why wouldn’t they have responded to our hails?” Hendricks
wondered.
“They still wouldn’t know for sure who we were.” Lamont
thought for only a second more. “Hendricks, take the
Nighthawk
to
their starboard side. Rebel, take port. Butler, take us around to face
them point blank. Keep shields up, people, looks can be deceiving.” A
chorus of ‘aye, aye’ and the ships maneuvered into their places. “All
right, open a vid channel.”
“You’re on,” Aziza said.
“Shuttle, I am Commodore Lamont commanding the BlackFleet Mercenaries. We picked up your distress signal. Do you still
require assistance?”
A few moments later the
Raven’s
holovid showed a young uniformed man, much the worse for wear.
“Commodore, thank you for coming to our aide, ah, ma’am”
he said hesitantly.
Coy acknowledged the gratitude despite the lack of trust in his
voice. “Our pleasure. And it’s not ma’am. At least not entirely.”
Relief spread over the man’s features as Coy’s meaning registered. “I’m really glad to hear that, Commodore.”
“Indeed?” Coy was not used to the revelation of its gender
being met with such enthusiasm.
“There are none where I come from. I’m willing to bet you are
who you say you are.”
“And who do you say you are?”
He straightened automatically. “Lieutenant Edwin Drake, of
the, well, of nothing I guess....” His proud statement trailed off in confusion.
“How can we help you, Lieutenant?”
“I have 12 men here, five wounded, all exhausted and hungry.
We’ve been drifting for a couple of days. We only got the beacon
working this morning.”
“I understand. We will send a shuttle to mate with yours.”
Drake nodded.
Lamont cut the transmission and called to Schiff. The major
had his troops suited and ready. Orders were given and the rescue
launched.
The bedraggled soldiers were hustled to Sick Bay as soon as
they set foot on the
Raven
. The last to leave the shuttle was the lieutenant himself. Lamont met him at the hatch.
“Lieutenant Drake, welcome aboard.”
The young officer gave a grateful sigh and put out his hand.
“Thank you, commodore.” He paused, “Is it sir or ma’am?”
“Sir is fine,” it said wondering how many hundred times that it
had said that. “Sick Bay is this way.” In the corridor they met up with
Ken. “This is Captain Butler, my Exec and commander of the
Raven
.”
“Sir,” Drake, fighting the impulse to salute despite the foreign
uniform, again offered his hand.
“So, what happened, Lieutenant?” Butler asked.
“I was second Lieutenant on an Imperial Navy vessel out of
New Grenich. We were returning to our ship after a routine drill when
it was attacked.”
Coy and Ken couldn’t help looking briefly at each other at
that. A clue already? “By whom?” Coy asked. They were nearly to
Sick Bay, now and Drake had not so much as glanced at the elegant
interior around him. Most people on their first tour through the huge
ship couldn’t help ogling at every turn. But he was much too miserable
to notice his surroundings.
The lieutenant went pale. “Our own people. Evidently another coup back home and nobody bothered to tell us. The captain and
most of the senior officers were already dead. Some of the crew openly joined the rebels. The others were either convinced or spaced. I,”
he started to choke, blinked and continued, “I couldn’t. Even if some
of their political points make sense, the manner of ... Anyway, at the
hatch we broke free and some of us made it back to the shuttle. Only it
wasn’t set up for long flights. No food, not enough med packs or air. I
was beginning to think the airlock would’ve been better. At least
quicker. Then you came.” He stopped and looked at Lamont. “We
owe you our lives.”
Coy smiled. We like to give a hand when we can.”
“But mercenaries aren’t like national service, right? You work
for money. We can’t repay you. We don’t have any...” he froze as if
something had just occurred to him. “We have nowhere to go.”
“You’ve been through a lot, Lieutenant. Yet, you took care of
your men. You are a good officer. If the right side comes out on top,
I’m sure they’ll need people like you.”
“And if the wrong side does?”
“Let’s get you all clean and fed and we’ll discuss a few options.”
Behind Drake’s back, Butler rolled his eyes. “Thirteen in one
pop? Don’t ever complain to me about numbers again.”
Lamont merely raised an amused eyebrow at his ‘insubordination’ and followed Drake into Sick Bay.