Black Dawn (13 page)

Sometime later, on the other side of the region, Lamont solemnly handed over the data file to the Prime Minister. As it did, it
mused once again at the amount of trouble that had been caused by
such a small item.

It had seemed a rather straight forward assignment at first.
The tiny world had needed information about their enemies’ movements and installations, but lacked the long range ships to gather it.

The
enemy”, however, had turned out to be their own colony
gone renegade. Very quickly the BlackFleet had found itself in the
middle of a civil war.

“
How do we play hero when we can't tell the good guys from
the bad guys?” Ken Butler asked.
“I guess this time we can't,” Coy had reluctantly admitted.
“But we can finish the job for the people we gave our word to.”
But then the rebel colonists had spotted them and attacked.
And Coy had to hang in space and let them take pot shots at its beloved
Raven
. Nothing beyond the paint job and a few articles that fell from
shelves was damaged, but every hit had seemed a personal blow. Yet
if they had returned even minimal fire, their superior technology
could've wiped out the planets forces.
Tempting after a while, but not what they were there for. A
negotiated truce was the best-case scenario. And for that, their employers needed more information. So they had taken the abuse, along
with the data, and returned.
The Prime Minister looked frighteningly like he was going to
weep as he clutched the disk. “This is the beginning step toward
peace,” he told Lamont. “I understand our agreement was for an exchange of favors, but we must do something to express our gratitude
now.”
Commodore Lamont smiled at the familiar plea. “It's the way
we prefer to do business, sir.”
Captain Butler, standing at Coy's elbow, leaned forward to
whisper, “Ask if he wants to pay for a new paint job before Bon...”
Lamont frowned him back in place.
“Something wrong, Commodore?” the PM asked.
“No, sir. Internal Fleet business.... And I repeat, the guarantee
of that favor is truly all I ask.”
The man looked at the disk thoughtfully for a long moment.
“If this says what we believe it will....” He looked back at Coy.
“Would you consider doing one more thing in our behalf?”
For another favor to call in someday, Lamont would indeed.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I need to go over this with my ministers. Can you remain in
orbit until I have an answer for you? If we discover we don't need
your services, I will give you that guarantee and you can be on your
way.”
Lamont glanced at Butler, and at Asch, who as always stood
close by. They both nodded in agreement.
“Very well, sir, we will remain in orbit until I hear from you.”
The PM smiled and took Lamont's hand. “Thank you, Commodore. I will contact you as soon as possible.”

It was the next 'day' ship time, when the call came.
“Commodore,” said the holo-image on Lamont's console,
“we have come to a decision. According to the data you brought to
us, the rebels are as lacking in technology as we thought. Which
would've made it very easy to stop their annoying attacks on you. I
personally thank you for sparing their lives. Bloodshed is what we are
attempting to avoid.”
Coy acknowledged his thanks with a short nod.
“I spent all evening meeting with the ambassador from the
colony. Since I had the proof of their troops and resources, there was
no reason for bluffing.
“The agreement we came to is the reason I needed to talk to
you. As a preliminary step of good faith, we have decided to reduce
our own arsenal to even up the sides.”
Lamont's brows rose. “Disarming yourself? Are you sure you
can trust their word that far?”
“The deaths must stop. One way or another. As you are
aware, these are our brothers we are fighting. Unfortunately, due to
past experiences, it is
they
who have every reason not to trust
our
word.” The Prime Minister's image shook his head sorrowfully. Then
he straightened his shoulders. “This is where I need your help.”
“What do you want us to do?” Coy asked seriously.

Coy took the proposal to the Senior Staff.
“As part of the negotiations, each side in the war has agreed to
reduce their arsenal,” Lamont began. “How all of that is going to be
disposed of, I don’t know. But we have been asked, in order to help
out in the cause of peace, to take part of that arsenal off their hands. A
favor which cancels itself out, I believe.”
Faces lit up all around the table. With a smile, Lamont
switched on their vids. And watched those same faces freeze.
Butler pointed to the decrepit looking freighter. “What is this,
a joke?”
“This,” Lamont answered him. “was on the top of their adversary’s list of things to dispose of.”
“The phrase, ‘so what’ springs to mind,” Butler persisted.
“I don’t get it either,” Hendricks said. “Why would they need
to get rid of a merchant ship?”
Instead of answering, Coy looked directly at Bon. “I think I’ll
call it the
Rook
.”
The engineer looked puzzled. He glanced at the ship, back at
Lamont, then more closely at the ship. Then he began to grin.
“Are
there any schematics to go with this charming little picture?”
Coy obliged.
Bon hadn’t studied them very long before his grin turned into
open-mouthed amazement. “Do they know what they are giving
away?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes, actually, they do.”
“Is it just me,” Butler interrupted “or does anyone else want to
know what in the hell is going on?”
“A rook,” Coy explained, “ as well as being a relative of the
raven, is another word for a bluff. The potential firepower of that little
ship is roughly the equivalent of the
Nighthawk
. An armed merchant
vessel. Its engines are not comparable in power to a warship, unfortunately.
However the bright side of that is that when she flies into
someone’s territory the power signature, along with her appearance,
writes her off as no threat.”
Rebel immediately picked up on the possibilities. “You could
get in pretty close to someone before bringing those weapons on line.
What about shielding?”
“Merely standard issue.” Bon answered, “Which more than
likely accounts for the beat up exterior. With those engine designs, it
can’t be as old as it looks.”
“I don’t understand,” Hendricks frowned. “Why are they giving up all those guns if they could win their war with it?”
“Because they don’t want to take the time to win it,” Schiff
guessed. “They want to stop it.”
“That’s right. Even though it has great potential for us as an
espionage tool, for them it’s just seen as a weapon of death and destruction.” Coy agreed. “In all honesty, I did make sure they understood what they were giving up. The Prime Minister merely said he
was glad we found it useful and to please take it out of their space.”
Butler rose his hand. “One word. Crew.”
“If Bon can upgrade the shields to my satisfaction - which will
entail calling in a marker - I intend to shift the B
lackbird
crew, with a
few additions, to the
Rook
.”
Coy couldn’t tell from Rebel’s expression how he took this
news. On one hand, Rebel seemed the most excited about the new
ship’s possibilities. On the other, the
Blackbird
was an elegant little
ship, and Rebel’s first command. Would he see this as moving up,
sideways or... Coy appreciated the steady gaze the young commander
was returning.
“My plans are to make your crew a very elite corps
within the BlackFleet. The cream of the crop, I heard it put once. It
will be an achievement to be chosen for the
Rook
. She could get in the
tightest situations. The nastiest scenarios. You will have to have the
people to handle it.”
Rebel tried to look cool and collected. “I already do.”
Schiff murmured agreement, while Butler and Hendricks shifted in their seats in vague competitive spirit.
“Everyone made the first cut simply by being BlackFleet,”
Coy reminded them all and let their ruffled feathers smooth for a moment. “For now, let’s turn our attention and efforts to bringing it up to
BlackFleet standards.” There were a couple of cleared throats and humorless snorts. “Besides, maybe it doesn’t look as bad on the inside.”
Lamont was quite right about that. It was worse.

The
Blackbird
crew picked their way through the rubble that
littered the main corridor. At each crossway they peered down in all
directions only to see more trash and garbage.

“
When was it exactly that this tub was used last,” Sweggert
asked. “And what exactly was it used
for?”
He stopped and shook his
head. “No, forget I asked that. I don’t think I want to know.”

Pedula agreed.
“I don’t want to either. I just hope we have
another favor from these guys. And let’s hope the Skipper makes it a
good one.”

Randy decided to risk the insubordination.
“C’mon, Commander. We’re standing in the proverbial pile of .....”
Rebel merely pursed his lips and pushed ahead of the group
without letting him finish, stomping up to the bridge where Lamont
and Bon were conferencing.
His crew watched his retreating back in silence. Then almost
as one they turned to Tony Knepp.
The new Sgt. held up his hands to ward off questions even before they were asked. “Our current task is to get rid of it, not comment
on it.” He thought for a moment. “I suppose the easiest way to do that
is to haul it all down to the docking bay, close the doors and blast it all
to ashes. I’ll have to talk to Captain Bon first about that. And we’ll
need more pallets. For now, split up into teams and start hauling it
down.”
They all saluted and left without any more grumbling -- at
least until they were out of Knepp’s earshot. Tony called Asch to ask
for more pallets and went up to join the senior officers. He found the
three of them staring rather tensely at each other. Lamont’s arms were
crossed and it was frowning. Rebel was frowning back. Bon looked
like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Knepp cleared his throat. “I’ve got the crew started on cleaning.”
Rebel nodded.
“And I was wondering if I could ask Captain Bon a couple of
things.”
Bon didn’t even bother hiding his relief as he made his escape.
After they had left, the discussion resumed.
“And what if the shields can’t be improved enough?”
“Then we sell it. It still has to be cleaned either way.”
“And if we sell it, I go back to the
Blackbird
.”
“Yes.”
“And Drake...?”
“And Drake waits a little longer for a command of his own.
I’m not making either of you promises. I’m making plans. And plans
can change.” Lamont paused. “I was shipmaster for several years,
Adrian. I do understand. This is not a glamorous ship. It is a tremendously useful ship. If that’s not good enough I’m sorry.” Coy’s expression grew stern. “But you are not a child and these are not toys. If
you insist on glamour, you can always rejoin the
Raven’s
crew. And
Drake, or someone else will get this shot.”
Rebel’s hands were clenched at his sides. He took a calming
breath and looked around the bridge before speaking. He had just
opened his mouth to request more help for the cleanup, when a puzzling fact belatedly dawned on him.
“Something wrong?” Coy asked, seeing his frown deepen.
“You said this was a functional warship.”
“Yes.”
“It has no weapons station.”
“It doesn’t?” Coy put on a frown of its own.
Rebel started to say something more, but after a look at Lamont’s not-quite-believable expression, decided to double check it
himself. He took a slow tour around the asymmetrical bridge. The station chairs were set here and there with no apparent care for design.
The captain’s chair sat in the middle of the room facing the
entrance. The engineer’s place was at the “back” of the long narrow
room. The JP was off to the side in his own little niche. The other stations, Nav, Com and a freight monitoring system were clustered up at
the “front”. But
no switches, buttons or anything else that reminded Rebel of any
weapons system he had ever seen.
“I don’t see any,” he said, trying hard to keep the annoyance
out of his tone.
“Good,” Lamont surprised him by saying. “Hopefully any
freight inspector won’t either.”
“Freight inspector?”
“Our
Rook
is very good at hiding its true nature.” Coy walked
over to the monitoring display and started to push something, then
stopped and waved Rebel over. “I think you should do this, Captain.”
Rebel stepped closer. “Do what, sir?”
“Push these in quick succession,” Coy indicated certain buttons.
Adrian did as he was told. And watched in amazement as the
entire work station flipped and slid until some more recognizable elements were in its place. Cannons, lasers, missiles… He tried hard to
think of something to express his rapidly changing opinion of the ship,
but all he came out with was, “So…what else can it do?”
Coy actually smiled a little as it pushed yet another secret
switch. Rebel’s mouth hung open as he looked at the Tac Room hidden
behind a blank wall. It was small of course. More like the
Nighthawk’s
than the huge master control room on the
Raven.
“Is there anything she can’t do?” Rebel said in awe.
“Yes,” Lamont told him. “It can’t look elegant.”
Rebel looked up from the systems board he was inspecting and
straight into Coy’s eyes. “Understood. And, I’m sorry, sir.”
Coy nodded. “I’m glad you can see the worth…”
“No, sir. I mean, yes, I regret acting childish and stupid about
this ship. But mostly sir, I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I should’ve
known you would always give us the best.” He straightened and saluted. “The
Rook
and I will do you proud, sir.”
Coy looked at him thoughtfully. “Do yourself proud, Adrian.
That’s the least and the most I will ever ask of you.”

The Captain’s quarters that Coy and Rebel loc
ated were virtually indistinguishable from the rest of those on the abused ship. All
living spaces were exactly the same. A fact, which seemed to annoy
Coy far more that it did Rebel himself. But Lamont had ordered part
of a bulkhead removed in the midst of all the other work, thereby creating captains quarters and attached office. Rebel did appreciate the effort but nothing was going to top the surprises up on the bridge.