Black Dawn (26 page)

“
Sam,” Smith said to his partner, “I think we can stop shooting
now.”
Then Smith saw Marcus and Thomas come up cautiously from
their place of concealment, and begin to check the bodies.

“
Two dead over here,” he heard Marcus call out. “And one
here.”
Smith came around the corner approaching the downed pirates. Marcus was having them stretched out carefully on the floor.
The captain double-checked his scanner reading of the rest of the base,
and called, “All clear,” to the fugitives in the room.
Smith watched Wiggins and Pierce emerge from the room. He
winced as he saw that Pierce had been injured. Then he saw Sweggert
being helped out by Mc Kinney and grimaced more. Finally, the rest
of the former hostages emerged as well. All of them seemed unharmed, at least. McKinney lowered Randy to the floor, and stood
back.
“We’re going to need help with carrying the other hostages,”
Pierce reminded the captain.
“Right. After we see to injuries, we’ll get everyone to the
shuttle.”
Several BlackFleet pulled their emergency med kits from their
pockets and began checking the figures on the floor.
Smith saw the new pilot he’d heard about over the
com,Harper, he believed it was, tending one of the injured pirates.
There was a movement to her left, and she only had time enough to
gasp as a hand reached out to grab at her.
Even as the heads of the other Elite force members whipped
around, a calm voice said simply, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.
Put it down, and let her go. Now.”
The man’s arm had frozen in the motion of raising a pistol toward Harper’s head. He hadn’t completed the action, because McKinney had one of his pistols drawn and already pointed at the
pirate’s
head. The pirate wilted, and allowed himself to be disarmed.
Smith stared at the weapon in McKinney’s hand that he would
have sworn was empty just a mere second before. He and McKinney
caught each other’s eye just as the reason for the man’s nickname
dawned on him. He gave “Speed” a complimentary nod. McKinney
merely grinned back.
Marcus strode over and glared at the unfortunate captive.
“What’s your name?” he demanded.
“Fields,” the man replied. Whether he was telling the truth or
not was immaterial to Marcus.
“There’s something I could use your help with, Mr. Fields,”
he said and hauled the man to his feet none too gently.
“McKinney, Smith, you’re with me. The rest of you get everyone back to the shuttle. We leave here in ten, pick up Squad Four,
the other shuttle, and we’ll be on our way back home in time for supper.”
The quartet made their way down the corridor, while the rest
headed off to the shuttle where the teams were to rendezvous. They
had been waiting impatiently for Marcus and the others, when they
finally did show up carrying a large sleeping man. “A little get well
present for the Commodore,” Marcus explained. “In the form of the
leader of this rat pack.”
The entire group grinned openly at the implications.
“And now if you’d be so kind,” Marcus said finally to both
Sweggert and to Haberny. Each of them pulled out their scanner/minicomp units. First Sweggert, then Haberny pressed a single
button.
Sweggert’s signal activated the device he’d left at the control
room. Within a few minutes, everything in the entire base’s power
systems would be useless scrap, with the exception of the life-support
systems.
Haberny’s signal set off the explosive devices placed over every entrance to the facility. Rock rained down over the doorways, effectively sealing the pirates inside until the authorities and the BlackFleet
arrived to fetch them.
Captain Marcus smiled contentedly as he relaxed in the comfortable shuttle seat.

Ceal stood with her arms folded, half blocking the Sick Bay
door to the corridor. In front of her, Commodore Coy Lamont fastened
its uniform jacket and picked up the hand scanner lying on the work
table it had been using for a desk, and a handful of data disks. It turned
to the doctor.

“
It will be easier to go out if you were standing somewhere
else,” it commented casually.
She frowned sternly. “You are not ready.”
“And you know this because of your many cases like mine that
you’ve dealt with over the years,” Coy returned.

She let out her breath in a puff, but stood her ground.
“You…”
“I am never going to be ready enough for you, Ceal”, it interrupted. “I owe the fact that I am breathing to you. Don’t underestimate
my debt. But there is no use breathing if I’m not living. I have to get
out of here and get back to my life.” It stepped closer to her. “I’m
okay. And if that changes I swear I will let you know immediately.”
“No hiding anything?”
“No hiding. No secrets.”
“You promise.”
“I promise.”
Grudgingly she stepped aside. As Coy passed her, she repeated, “Trust me, you’re not ready for what’s out there.”
Coy turned to look at her as the door swished open. Then a
collective gasp made it swivel its head around quickly to the corridor.
Coy’s mouth gaped open at the sight of every BlackFleet member
standing in a line that went the length of the corridor and evidently
around the corner as well. Butler, Bon and Schiff stood to one side. At
its first step out of Sick Bay a deafening cheer went up. Coy turned
again to Ceal, looking more than a little overwhelmed. “When you’re
right, you’re right,” it murmured to her.
Then taking a breath it began walking along the line. The first
person was Tony Knepp. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Thank you, Sir. Welcome back, Sir.”
Next were Aziza, and Parker and Vennefron. “Isn’t anyone
running this ship?!” it asked in mock horror, as it shook their hands.
Devyu snapped his fingers, I knew we forgot something.
We’ll get right on it, Skipper.” The bridge crew all saluted and left.
And that’s the way it went all the way down the hall. Palo,
Swift, McKnight, Hendricks, Torren, Nathan, Edwards, Luka, Penway,
Masters, Pedula, Erhardt, Cimini, Reinhart, Dobbs, handshakes, tears,
memories and salutes before they hurried back to their duties.
About halfway through, Coy noticed Asch had slipped up into
his normal position at its elbow, waiting quietly to assist as needed.
“There is a pot of tea waiting for you in your quarters, sir, as soon as
you are done reviewing the troops,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Bless you,” Coy sighed sincerely.
As the last crewmember left, Lamont found that all the senior
officers had remained behind.
“Up to a staff meeting?” Butler asked, carefully avoiding Ceal
Byars’ glare.
Coy smiled at him. “On line and ready to go. My quarters,
ladies and gentlemen.

Coy stared at the man before it. The prisoner Marcus had
gifted them with was sitting in a chair, bent over forward as far as his
restraints would allow. He was sweating and shaking, fighting the
truth drug as hard as he could.

“
Shipping? Shipping!” Butler slammed his hands down on the
table and stood. “We sit here all this time and that’s the best you can
come up with?”

The man flinched from the loud voice. Fighting the pentha was
taking a toll on his nerves. Sound and light were beginning to be painful. A fact that Captain Butler cared about not at all.

“
Ken,” Lamont said more quietly, “Sit down and relax.” It
leaned across the table that separated itself from the pirate. “Am I to
understand that you were instructed to interfere with shipping lines?”

Gritting his teeth, the man nodded.
“Why?”
“I – don’t – know,” he bit out.
“What did you get out of the deal?”
“Anything – on – board.”
Coy and Butler glanced at each other in surprise.
“You didn’t have to give a percentage or cut to anyone?”
“No.” The man was panting now.
Ceal, seated just behind the prisoner, motioned for Coy’s attention and pointed to her medical scanner. “His blood pressure is soaring. He’s dangerously close to a stroke.”

Coy nodded understanding, but continued.
“So someone instructed you to attack shipping lines, but did not want a share of the,
ah, profits. Correct?”

Another nod.
“And you don’t know who gave you the instructions.”
“’t was – anon – tip.” His speech was getting a little slurry.
“An anonymous tip?” Ken exploded again. “You risked your

entire crew for an anonymous tip?
”
“Good…” pant, pant. “…profit.”
“But, you…” Ken began, but Coy cut him off at Ceal’s look.
“Administer the antidote. We’ll finish this later.”
Ceal came around into the man’s field of vision. “You won’t

finish anything if he’s dead,”
she muttered as her hypospray hissed
against his arm. “Sir,” she added. She checked his vitals and pursed
her lips. “Can I take him to Sick Bay now?”

Commodore Lamont shook its head.
“He can stay right here
until he stabilizes. Then he’s going to the brig.”
“Commodore…” she began.
Lamont jerked up straight in its chair and pointed a finger at
the slumped figure. “He imprisoned my people!” it practically shouted.
“If he wasn’t potentially useful he would be space debris right now.
He goes to the brig!”
Ceal stepped back and blinked at the overpowering emotion in
Coy’s voice and eyes. “Yes, sir. To the brig. Sorry, sir.”
Coy started to say more, then changed its mind. It let out a
long slow breath and nodded to Butler.
Raising his wrist com he ordered, “Butler to Security. Enter.”
The door opened and the two guards stationed just outside the
briefing room joined them. They had remained out of sight and earshot during the interrogation as to not confuse the prisoner.
“When Dr. Byars clears this – man – take him to the brig,”
Butler told them, somehow making the word ‘man’ an insult with his
tone.
“Yes, sir.”
Leaving the room, Lamont turned in the direction of I & S
with Butler on his heels. Ken could swear he could see the wheels turning in his commander’s mind even though it didn’t say a word until
they reached the intelligence department.
Vennefron was sitting at a console, but leapt to his feet and
saluted at their arrival.
“Sit down, Lieutenant,” Coy told him. “We have work to do.”
“The rat actually squealed something useful?” Venn asked
hopefully while seating himself again.
“ ‘Shipping’ was the most useful thing he said,” Butler informed him in disgust.
“Oh.” His tone indicated he was expecting a little more.
“It may be the biggest clue we’ve ever gotten,” Coy said evenly. “Vennefron, get out the list again. How many incidents involved
shipping lines?”
The lieutenant worked for a few minutes. “Directly? Less than
a third.”
“Why do you say ‘directly’ ?” Butler came and peered over his
shoulder.
“Well, there’s a couple more here that were attempted kidnappings and some harassment issues that were owners or CEO’s of shipping companies.”
Lamont sat down slowly. “How many others were involved in
shipping in
any
way?”
A few more moments went by as Vennefron redefined his
search. “Three companies that had hits manufactured parts for some
main shippers,” he read, “Two of the governmental leaders we’ve assisted were directly responsible for commerce; that young girl we rescued was the daughter of the director of the line fleet for that world…”
Butler straightened up and put his hands on his hips. “Don’t
you think we’re reaching just a little here? For all we know they all
liked the color blue too, but that wouldn’t make a pattern for pirate
attacks.”
Coy shook its head. “No, Ken. Any thread that ties all of these
incidents has to be more than coincidence. Venn, get some help if you
need it. Use that fellow Devyu met at the card game, Kefski. I agree
that his primary should be Tac Com, but for now consider him your
assistant. I want every one of these people interviewed again. Shipping is our key. Find any link they have.”
“Aye, sir.” Vennefron spoke into his wrist com and called
Gunter Kefski to I & S.
While he was speaking, Butler continued his argument with
Lamont. “How would interfering with shipping help anybody?” he
asked. “Trade between worlds is the lifeblood of the whole nexus!”
“I don’t know, yet. Finding if this is really the link is the first
step. If not, then we’ll start over again,” Coy stood up and prepared to
leave Vennefron to his work. “And if you have any better ideas, Captain, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“My pleasure, Skipper,” Butler gave a half salute.

Lamont’s plan was to take a brief tour around the bridge as it
had always had a habit of doing, and then go crash in its quarters for a
while. It hated to admit that it still was not up to the energy levels that
it was used to. Ceal was confident that with time, everything would be
back to normal. Well, at least the things that they wanted to return to
the way they had been.

Coy was still assimilating its new self…selves. It had not yet
found a way to explain to the others what the changes really were. It
was almost as if it had been two separate people all the time, battling
for precedence. For the majority of its life, the quiet chameleon spy
had been all it knew. Although the drive for command and its self
proclaimed
mission against the Boogeyman had come from somewhere – or someone – different. A bold, forceful personality that had to win at all cost.

The two warring selves had been in conflict more and more as
the BlackFleet had taken shape and become successful. Until the
meltdown and reboot. And now… it was still working on that one.

It turned to find Major Michaels striding down the corridor to
catch up.
“Commodore, may I speak with you for a moment, sir?” he
asked after his academy perfect salute had been acknowledged.
Coy smiled inwardly as it recognized the pattern for Butler’s
new crispness. “Of course, Major. In fact, I’ve been wanting a chance
to talk to you. Can you come to my quarters now?”
“Yes, sir. That would be fine.”

Once they were settled in the cabin, Coy in a comfortable
chair, Michaels standing at parade rest, and Asch had made his appearance with his magic refilling teapot, they both looked at the other,
wondering who would begin. Lamont let him stew for just a few moments before giving in.

“
Butler tells me you have over 30 years experience with fighter pilots.”
“Yes, sir. I served for 35 and a half years, in point of fact.”
“I see. I’m not as clear on why you left.”
Michaels gave a very small, very controlled sigh. “I disagreed
with my people’s tendency to discourage ingenuity.”
Coy’s brows rose a little. “I’m not aware of many military
organizations that encourage ingenuity in their fighting men.”
The major pursed his lips. “Perhaps I chose the wrong word.”
Lamont waved at another chair. “Perhaps you could sit down
to discuss it.”
Michaels looked at the comfortable chair for a second before
lowering himself down into it. “I must admit, the level of informality
around here is still more than a bit surprising.”
Coy laughed at little. “Formality is not a large issue with most
mercenary units. We’re about the best it gets. I guess it’s a good thing
you ran into us and not another merc unit.”
“For a lot of reasons, or so I hear.”
Coy waited for him to expand upon that comment, but he
didn’t seem inclined to. “So, another word for ingenuity?” it returned
to the former line of conversation.
“It’s just that no one seemed to feel that the enlisted soldiers
had

“
Ah,” Lamont rescued him. “You believed that the people under you had individual worth outside of the military machine.”
The major’s eyes lit up. “Yes, that’s exactly it. Self worth.
When I began my career, each person’s life and contribution meant
something. But as the leadership changed over the years, blindly following orders became the most important quality in the ranks. I
couldn’t agree with that.”
“This from the man who craves military formality?” Lamont
teased.
Michaels opened his mouth, then shut it. “I guess I’m not making much sense, am I?”
“Major, you are making perfect sense. The very foundation of
this Fleet is that each and every person has value and worth and the
right to improve not only themselves but the little part of the universe
they live in.
“Now, I don’t mean to sound supernatural, but I do believe
that everyone has a goal, a destiny if you will. And the ones that even
come close to the path are damned lucky. I think the people who fit in
the BlackFleet are some of the lucky ones. I haven’t sat down and
talked to all the ones recruited in my, ah, absence, but it seems that my
officers have been able to keep up with our record of finding the ones
who fit. Yourself included.”
Michaels cocked his head a little. “You have personally sat
and talked to every crew member in the fleet?”
“Of course. I know their names, faces, and usually even their
hobbies. What is the use of trying to improve the universe for everyone out there,” Coy waved its arm to indicate space, “If I don’t care
about the worth of the ones in here. It would defeat the whole purpose
of the BlackFleet’s existence.”
Michaels simply sat quietly for several minutes before finding
the right words. “Commodore, ever since I stepped foot on this ship, I
have heard nothing but flattering things about your vision and plan for
this Fleet and its people. I’m glad to know they seem to all be true.”
Lamont could think of nothing to say to that, so it simply nodded in acceptance of the compliment.
“And actually valuing my pilots and crews is what I wanted to
speak to you about. I saw some damn fine work on that rescue mission,
and I was wondering how you went about rewarding them. The only
precedent I have seen is Lieutenant Commander Knepp, and I don’t
think you have enough Exec slots for everyone I wish to
acknowledge.”
Coy gave a short laugh of agreement. And Butler had claimed
the man had no sense of humor. “The BlackFleet is still developing its
internal systems, Major. Why don’t you and Captain Butler and Major
Schiff get

Commodore Lamont walked into the White meeting with a determined expression on its face. This was the first official full senior
staff meeting it had run since returning to duty. It had surprised itself
by not feeling hesitant. In fact, these days it seemed to have more confidence than it could ever remember having. It had to admit it, dying
may have been the best thing that had happened to it in a long time!

The door to the conference room opened and it strode in. All
of the officers seated at the table stood and saluted. Carefully hiding a
smile it returned the salutes and gestured for everyone to sit. It would
never have suspected Butler being in charge would have tightened military formality around the place. And how much of that was due to
Ken’s secret hero worship of Michaels no one, including Butler himself, would ever know.

“
Ladies and gentlemen, if you will open your notes please,”
Coy told them.
As they each switched on their screen and saw nothing on it,
smiles of understanding spread around the table. With the usual exception of Michaels, of course.
“So you want us to do your work for you again,” Butler gave
an attempt at a serious tone and failed totally.
“Well, you seem to have done such a good job lately, I thought
you’d be hurt if I figured everything out by myself,” Coy did a better
job at a stern face … if you didn’t look at its eyes.
“Now then, for
those here that are not as familiar with BlackFleet history, this is the
kind of meeting when I ask the question and you all come up with the
answers.”
“And the question is…?” Rebel asked.
Coy put some data on their screens to begin the process. “Our
I & S department has found what we think is the thread tying all of the
‘Boogeyman’s’ activities together. They are all, or almost all, connected in one way or another, to the shipping industry.”
“Ah,” Michaels cleared his throat, “Is that such a reach for pirates to be attacking shipping?”
“Not just shipments,” Lamont clarified. “We’re talking about
the entire industry. Owners, CEO’s, ship manufacturers, route scheduling personnel--every aspect of the business.”
“Why? Who would gain from disrupting trade?” Hendricks
frowned in thought.
“That, my fine officers, is the question. Any ideas of an answer?” Coy leaned back in its seat to physically hand the discussion
over to them.
No one said anything for several minutes. They all read and
re-read the scanty information on their screens. Lots of head shaking
and mumbling followed.
“It still doesn’t make any sense to me,” Drake said. “Shipping
between worlds is what keeps everything going. How could anyone
profit from stopping it?”
“What if…,” Schiff began, then seemed to change his mind.
The major spoke so seldom that when he did it usually meant
something. Everyone turned to listen to his thoughts, but he said no
more.
“Come on, Walter,” Coy told him, “spit it out.”
Schiff looked for a moment like he was trying to decide if that
was a direct order he could get out of, but eventually he surrendered.
“What if they didn’t want to keep things going? If everything went to
hell, who would profit by cleaning it up?”
Coy raised its brows in appreciation and exchanged a glance
with Butler. “Who indeed?”
“A new shipping company?” Rebel suggested. “If
everyone
else went under someone new would clean up alright.”
“So there was no one company or manufacturer of ships that
was being targeted exclusively?” Hendricks wondered.
Vennefron checked some of his own notes. “Not apparently.
All different names and registries.”
Butler rubbed his chin in thought. “Not even related? I mean
like parent companies or something?”
“There are a couple that are related, as you put it. There are
some that are subsidiaries of other companies, but I am having more
difficulty tracking just which of
those
companies might be connected
in some way.”
“Now,” Coy turned back to the rest of the officers, “ assume
we’re wrong. It’s not a new company wanting the business. What else
could be the rationale?”
“What if the shipping is not the only thread?” Michaels leaned
forward on the table with his normal intense expression.
“They all could like the color blue,” Butler said only loudly
enough for Coy to hear.
“Go on,” Lamont told Michaels, ignoring Ken completely.
“Is there any word of some kind of universal police force proposed by anyone? Stirring up trouble in order to stop it?”
“I thought that was our job!” Rebel joked, and at Coy’s look,
added, “Stopping it, not stirring it up, that is.”
Coy shook its head. “I’ve not heard any rumors of that sort.
People have wished for it with all that’s going on, but I’ve heard no
serious proposals. I would think that our adversary is more subtle than
that, though. That seems a little obvious.”
“Unless that’s what he
wants
us to think,” Butler said dramatically.
Coy did look at him a moment at that one, but still decided not
to take the bait. It turned instead to Bon. “Raeph, you’ve been awfully
quiet.”
He sighed. Give me nice clean engineering. Tab A goes into
slot B, etc. All this motivation and intrigue is not really up my alley.”
“Amen,” Ceal Byars echoed the sentiment. She knew she seldom had input at these types of meetings, but had been glad to be included at this one simply to keep an eye on her star patient. Whom
even she had to admit was not acting much like a patient anymore.
The steady, commanding person she saw before her was a far cry from
the lifeless form on the Sick Bay bed not so long ago.
Coy caught her eye and seemed to read the thoughts behind
her calculating eyes. It smiled and gave her a small nod.
“Alright, unless someone has more thoughts on all of this..?”
No one volunteered any more insight. “Then the Boogeyman discussion is tabled for now. Which brings us to the exciting topic of departmental reports. Major Michaels, have you come up with a plan for
commendations?”
The talk continued through all the recent happenings and updates from all the different areas of operation. Butler, in his ongoing
campaign for more crew, was pleased to announce that the three techs
rescued with the shuttle crew had elected to stay with the Fleet. They
were assigned to be the Tac Com crew along with Kefski. So for the
first time, all the seats in that department were filled.
The meeting ended with satisfying results. Coy stood, the
others following suit and saluting again. As the rest of the officers left
for their various duties, Ceal remained behind. Coy looked at her with
amusement. “You’re not going to keep mothering me forever, are
you?”
“And what makes you think that’s what I wanted to talk about?
You’re not the only item on my job description, you know.”
“Oh?” As she had made no move to get up and leave, Coy sat
on the edge of the table to listen.
“It’s just that…”she looked down at her hands. “This may
sound a little silly. But when we went to Riga, I called myself Dr.
Byars in order to scavenge what respect from them that I could.” She
paused.
“That makes sense.” Coy was admittedly a little puzzled by
her anxious expression. It hadn’t seen her wring her hands since the
early days of the Fleet.
“And after we came back, well I got to thinking about it. I
liked being called Doctor, but I’m not one. I have no official credentials to prove…”
Coy held up a hand to stop her. “What is my rank?”
She frowned. Commodore.”
“And how did I get it?”
“You started the Fleet.”
“I started the Fleet as a captain. The titles changed when circumstances required.”
“That’s not exactly the same.”
“Actually it is. In fact your claim is probably more accurate
than mine. You at least went to school for your learning. Even my very
original rank many years ago was simply given to me by my commanding officer at the time. I have no formal training to be a commodore.”
“You’re saying I should just name myself a doctor whether I
am or not.”
“I’m saying you don’t need a document to prove what you are.
Look at me, and Vennefron and Pierce and Erhardt …people you have
literally put back together. How much more proof does the universe
need?”
She thought for a few more minutes, and then stood at last. “I
suppose you’re right,” she said without conviction. “I….thank you, for
your confidence.” And with that she walked out.
Lamont waited about a second before it called Asch back into
the room. “Lieutenant, I have a little job for you…”