Black Dawn (3 page)

Among the several others who showed up before they broke
dock, Coy found three more that “fit”. A navigator and two more
troopers. Parker, a woman nearing Schiff’s age, seemed to have no
trouble working up on the bridge with Hoffman. Coy suspected that
she could either get along with, or overpower anyone she cared to.
Buried carefully beneath her gruffness, Coy had caught a glimpse of
her pain. After a life of military service, sacrificing everything, including her family, she was retired. Which led to boredom. Which led to
wandering. Which led to Coy.

The troopers, Rebel and Pedula were put to work relieving the
overworked Palo and Luka. After Pedula made a quick visit to Sick
Bay, that is. There Byars broke in her new Med Tech status by administering her first hangover antidote. Not the most glamorous beginning
of a career, but she felt glad to be contributing to the cause. Whatever
it was.

After leaving Alluria, the crew of ten worked themselves almost to the dropping point running the massive ship. When the troopers weren’t working out in the gym, they relieved someone on the
bridge. The engineers took their turns helping with everything from
Sick Bay to communications.

However, now that there was a Med Tech on board, no one
was allowed to go days without sleep or skip very many meals. Ceal
surprised herself as much as everyone else with how seriously she took
her job. She wore her new uniform with obvious pride, and even
clipped her strawberry blond hair into a short no-nonsense style. And
the times she wasn’t running a scanner over someone, or clucking over
eating habits, she doubled as the supply officer, relaying needs to the,
now, Commander Bon.

Bon himself had also drawn double duty being Chief Engineer
and First Officer. Coy was all over the ship, helping with minor repairs here and there, taking a turn as pilot or com officer or composing
fleet manuals…and the promised contracts… until its eyes blurred. On
top of which it managed to take time everyday to connect with a member or two of the crew. Discuss a favorite piece of music, listen to a
description of back home… some small indication that they were a
person that someone cared about.

Everyone was exhausted. They had no idea where the ship
was headed, or why. The only thing they did know, was that for some
reason, Captain Lamont had chosen them over other, often seemingly
more qualified, applicants. For most, if not all, it was the first time in a
long time anyone had believed in them.

And they were determined to live up to that belief.
However, no one protested when Coy decided to dock at the
next Transit Portal station and take a breather. While some went off
ship to relax, Med Tech Byars took the opportunity and headed straight
to the captain’s cabin.
“Enter,” Coy responded to the door buzzer.
She found her CO sitting on one of the small couches occupying the living area of the quarters. Scanner, disks, printouts, half of a
sandwich and an empty mug were strewn all over the couch as well.
At one time in human history, almost all communication technology was so small that it was virtually impossible to hold. Eventually it became necessary to download everything into a port people had
implanted, typically, but not always, at the base of their skull.
Then people started being affected. After a couple of generations of paranoia, disorders, and insanity, growing by leaps and bounds
through the population, progress had to take a giant step backwards.
Mankind stopped hardwiring their brains, the tools grew back to a size
comfortable enough to hold, and the health professionals all breathed a
collective sigh of relief.
Ceal, however, frowned at the mess. “What happened to time
off?”
Coy shrugged instead of answering. “What can I do for you,
Ceal?”
“I hope that was supper and not lunch,” she nodded at the partial sandwich.
Coy looked at it and then at its chrono. “The first half was
lunch. I’m not ready for supper yet.”
Ceal rolled her eyes. “I should’ve believed him.”
“Whom should you have believed?”
“Bon. He said you never eat enough.”
“I eat.”
“You intend to live on half of a sandwich a day?”
Coy sighed. “I eat what I need to. I’m...a genetic. They fiddled with my metabolism. I really don’t get hungry very often.”
“Hmmm. Anything else I ought to know? As your medical officer?” She sat down in a nearby chair. Startled out of what she was
going to say next by the comfort of the furniture, she unconsciously
sighed
and stroked the arm. When she glanced up and saw Coy watching her,
she put her hands in her lap and forced her thoughts back to her reason
for coming. “I’ve been running scans on the others to get at least some
sort of baseline information to start their file until I can do real physicals.”
Coy nodded approval. “Good idea.”
“But I must admit, ah...”she faltered, trying very hard not to
look at Coy’s body.
“You’ve never dealt with hermaphrodites before,” Coy finished for her.
“I’ve studied everything … I’ve just never had practical experience.”
“Well,” Coy put down what it had been reading and paused.
“Like I said, I’ve been fiddled with a little, but my basics are straightforward enough. Herms don’t have unusual organs, just, ah, more of
them.”
“Your physical - arrangement doesn’t
bother
me .”
Coy’s expression went blank. “Then, what’s the problem?”
“I didn’t say there was a problem. I just...” she reddened ...
“Alright, so I’m plain old fashioned curious.”
“You want to know whether I like males or females best? Or
if I’m sex obsessed? Or whether someone who can’t make up their
mind what they are can be trusted to make decisions in a crisis?” Coy’s
words came out cold and filled with anger.
Ceal stared in disbelief at the sudden hostility. “Captain?” she
asked carefully. “Are you okay? What kind of trigger did I hit, anyway?”
Coy blinked and shook its head as if to clear it, then looked
blankly at her for a second.
“Captain?” she asked again.
“I don’t…” Coy stammered, then cleared its throat. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.” There was a moment of awkward silence.
Then, “You were asking about my biology?”
Perhaps it was right and a more concrete medical approach
was safer. “You said you had been ‘fiddled’ with. By Riga, I assume?”
Coy obviously hesitated before answering. Ceal took a chance
and forged ahead anyway. “Your personal issues are not my business,
I admit, but that sounded physical, and that is in my job description, I
do believe. Besides, Captain, I’m your Med Tech. Nothing goes any
further”.
Lamont let its gaze relax just a little. “I was a military experiment. A lot of chemicals have little or no effect on me. For interrogations, I assume. I was supposed to be able....” It paused again. “I’ve
got a file that explains some of it. I can give it to you.”
“I would appreciate it.” Ceal said simply. She actually would
appreciate its life story
. A military experiment?
She admittedly had
very
little experience in the greater universe but that sort of thing would be
illegal on most of the worlds she had had contact with.
Coy was watching her again. “You’re very good at this you
know. Being a medical officer. I was fortunate that you came along.”
“So am I.” She smiled sincerely. “Even if I’m still not dead
sure why we’re all here. What is it we’re all working so hard to do?”
Coy paused again, then finally sighed and said, “I’ve been
thinking a lot about that lately. With this ship I have an opportunity.
Have you ever been in a position when there was no good answer?
There was something you
had
to do? People that needed help. And
there was no ‘right’ way to help them? I’ve decided I want a unit to
be able to do what needs done without the chains of command or red
tape. Without having to get permission or....To be able to go where
we’re needed and do what we have to do.”
Ceal was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I know exactly what you
mean….. Who were they?”
“They?”
“The people who needed your help and you couldn’t because
of red tape.”
Ceal couldn’t even begin to guess the myriad of emotions that
were passing behind Coy’s eyes. She mentally kicked herself. So much
for any bedside manner. She kept opening tender wounds. “When do
you suppose things will slow down enough for me to do proper physicals on everyone?” she changed subjects again.
Lamont gave one of its short, tired sighs. “I couldn’t tell you,
Ceal. Hopefully soon. I would like to run this outfit as properly as
possible no matter what its size.” It forced itself to sit up straighter.
“Look, I’ll set a precedent. Schedule a time for mine and I’ll bring my
file.”
She returned the smile. “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate...”
she paused. “Well, I appreciate it all. Your trust and support. I don’t
know what I would’ve done. I couldn’t stay there any longer.”
“Should I be aware of who’s after you? For the Fleet’s sake?”
At her shocked look, it added. “I’m your Captain, Med Tech. It would
go no further.”
“I guess I owe you that, don’t I?” She took a breath. “It’s my
uncle. He took over when my father and the others were… killed.”
“Took over what?”
“The government. The planet. He’s my guardian until I’m 25.
I couldn’t stand being there under his control so I ran. His agents catch
up with me every once in a while. They found me on Servati in Med
school. That’s why I’m a Med Tech and not a physician. I left before I
graduated. I was afraid if I stayed on Alluria any longer they’d find me
again.”
“What would happen if they did?”
“I, I don’t really know. Best case, they would take me back.
Worst...I’d rather not find out.” She looked Coy in the eye. “Does this
change anything?”
It shook its head. “No, you definitely belong here. And as your
commander, I’ll do my best to protect you from your enemies.”
Ceal stared, eyes filling with tears. “I have a feeling you mean
that.”
“Would I lie to the person in charge of all the hyposprays?”
She smiled again at the hint of levity. “Thank you, Captain,”
she said sincerely. “I guess I’ll go schedule that physical.” They both
got up and Coy walked her to the door. She paused halfway through
and turned back. “And , Captain?”
“Yes?”
“Eat your sandwich.”

Ken Butler sat in the bar staring blearily at the drink before
him. He hadn’t even had a sip and the world was already out of focus.
It had been out of focus for days now. He squinted as he tried to remember how many days it had been. Since he hadn’t slept in between
any of them it was hard to calculate.

Hadn’t slept, hadn’t changed clothes, hadn’t eaten much, come
to think of it. He ought to check and see if he had enough currency left
to get some food, but the effort of getting it out and counting seemed
overwhelming.

The thought shook him into pseudo-alertness. Had he really
sunk so low so quickly? Obviously so, he told himself. He shook his
head but it wouldn’t clear. This was crazy. He had to pull himself together.

He pushed the drink aside and stood, a little shakily. Perhaps
he could trade it in on a sandwich or something. There, a plan. A goal.
Life was looking up. He staggered over to the bar, glass in hand.

“That’s some ship,” he was saying. “There’s rumors all over
the station what it is.”
“Just a ship,” one of the men answered. “A big empty ship.”
“Yeah? What’s it supposed to be full of?”
“Mercenaries,” a second man spoke up. “We’re just a little
understaffed at the moment.”
His companions snorted at that.
“I know a hundred mercs who could sign on in a second. Just
let me spread the word…”
“No,” the first man cut him off with a shake of his head. “The
Skipper is a little more particular than that when it comes to hiring.”
Ken couldn’t resist. “Particular about what?”
All four turned to stare at him. At his red eyes, his hollow
cheeks and wrinkled clothes.
“About what kind of people it hires,” a woman in the trio told
him.
“It?” Ken asked.
“Herm,” she explained.
“Really? A real one?” He wondered if he sounded as inane to
them as he did to himself. Evidently he did. They shrugged him off as
a nosey drunk and turned back to their own conversation. But unwilling to be dismissed so easily, he put a hand on the arm of the older
man in the group. “What kind of people does it want?”
“Why?”
Why. Good question. Why was he bothering these mercenaries? Was he really desperate enough to seek employment with pirates?
Soldiers of fortune? But these people hardly looked like pirates, trim
and neat in their black uniforms. Weapons gleaming, boots polished.
They wore no markings or insignia of any kind, though.
“I…” he began, then followed the man’s gaze down to the
hand on his arm. He removed it and tried again. “I need…”
“We don’t take applications,” the man said. “You want a job,
you go see the captain.”
Ken blinked. “Yeah, okay. Where is he? I mean it?”
“The
Raven
. Docking Bay 106.”
“106. Thanks.” Butler left the drink on the bar, forgot about
the sandwich completely and headed off in search of Docking Bay 106,
not entirely sure why.
When he found it he understood the barkeeper’s comments. It
didn’t look like any mercenary ship. Not that he was up on that sort of
thing. But this didn’t even look military. It looked…elegant. Smooth
and black. Like the uniforms. Must be a theme here.
Uniforms. He looked down at his own clothes in shame. He
tried to smooth them and his hair with his hands. Nothing he could do
about his eyes.
The guard posted at the tube connecting the big ship to the station, was watching all of this. Probably in amusement. Gathering what
shreds of dignity he could, Butler walked over to him and looked him
in the eye. To his surprise, there was no amusement.
“I’d like to see Captain…” he faltered, realizing he hadn’t
even asked the name.
“Lamont,” the guard supplied. He raised his wrist to his face
and spoke into an expensive com. “Luka to Hoffman. Gentleman to
see the captain,” he announced.
“On my way,” a voice answered, blandly.
The guard nodded at Ken and lowered his arm again to stand at
parade rest. It was only a minute or two before another merc appeared
through the end of the tube to escort him.
The man had the tattoos of a Jump Pilot. Millions of dollars of
specialized training and the JP was doing grunt work? A little understaffed indeed.
“This way,” he said without ceremony. He turned back and
led Ken through the massive ship to a door. They had not passed another person on the way. The pilot pressed a buzzer.
“Enter,” came the command through the com speaker.
The door opened. Butler looked to his guide for moral support, but the man was already walking away. Okay. Great. Taking a
breath he walked in.
Whatever he had expected – this wasn’t it.
This was obviously personal quarters he had been led to. Large
and, yes he had to say it again, elegant, quarters. The person before
him was dressed in the same black uniform as the ones in the bar. Still
no markings. It looked female to him at first glance. It was sitting on a
couch in front of a low table.
“Come in, Mr. Butler. Do you drink tea?” It indicated the table
which was set with china cups and teapot.
“Ah...” Ken’s mind whirled. It knew his name? Tea? Did he
drink tea? “Sort of , I guess.”
Lamont gestured at a seat. “Sit down. When did you eat
last?”
“What?” Awkwardly, he sat.
It frowned. “When did you eat last,” it repeated, slightly emphasizing each word.
“I, ah, don’t remember. Exactly.”
Coy nodded and handed him a cup. “This, first then. To take
the edge off.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.” He stared at the tea for a moment, then
took an experimental sip. It was warm and sweet. Before he realized it
, he’d drained the cup. He looked at the captain and shrugged.
With a small smile, Lamont gave him a refill. “Now, then, I
understand you’re interested in a job with us.”
“How...?” he pursed his lips. “It sort of depends on who ‘us’
is.”
Another nod. “We are a new, and I mean brand new, outfit.
This is your proverbial ground floor opportunity. We call ourselves
the BlackFleet. Who we are, what we do is still pretty much on the
drawing board. I think I know what I want to do, but...” It took a
drink.
“Which is?”
Lamont put down its cup and leaned back against the couch
with a tired smile. “I want to be a hero.”
“To who?”
“Anyone out there who needs it. Planetary systems can take
care of their own area, but what about in between systems? ‘Open water’, so to speak. Who is there for them?”
Butler cocked his head. “And you really think there’s a market
for that sort of thing?”
The smile faded. The tired remained. “Yes, there is.”
“Any money in it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I see.” He looked at his cup again and swirled the last little bit
of tea around in it. “Then you do it just because.”
“Basically, yes.”
“You plan on eating? Paying for all this?” Butler waved his
hand vaguely around.
“We’ll eat. This ship is paid for and fully stocked...”
“With everything but a crew from what I heard. You could
have a lot of people if you wanted...” he paused. “Of course that
would be more to feed...”
Lamont gave a sigh. “I don’t want
people
. I want the
right
people. People who care.” It got up suddenly and paced to a view port.
It looked out for a moment before adding quietly, “People who have
been there.”
Butler didn’t ask where ‘there’ was. It probably wasn’t a place.
Maybe a situation. Maybe a time when they could’ve used a hero. A
time like…
“I think I’m in the wrong place,” Butler mumbled. Self-
consciously he set the cup back on its tray. He looked up to find Lamont peering at him curiously. “I’m no hero,” he explained.
“Are you sure?”
“The whole reason I’m on this stinking station is because I
couldn’t...” he swallowed. He looked at Lamont looking at him, trying to decide what he saw in the other’s eyes. Curiosity. Encouragement. And something else. Something he hadn’t seen in quite a while.
Acceptance.
“I’m ...was… a commander. Third officer on the flagship,” he
began haltingly. “My brother got our father’s titles, I got a military
career. It’s kind of how things are done...” he straightened defensively.
“Not that I didn’t work for my commission. I did.
“Anyway, here we are out on maneuvers and the skipper slips
a gear. Making stupid commands and forgetting the name of the
queen. But it’s not that bad. And he’s still the captain, right? Right?
Still the man I swore loyalty to.” Butler’s voice rose with his agitation.
“The rest of the crew didn’t see it that way. They thought the exec
should take over. I guess they were right about assuming command in
a crisis or something, but he deserved some dignity. They even...” another swallow. “I couldn’t be a part of it. He wasn’t that loony.” He
paused again.
“Go on.”
Butler shrugged. “One day I had enough. I punched the exec.
Mutiny, they said. I ask you, how is mutiny against a mutiny wrong?
Two wrongs and all that I guess....I was thrown in the brig...These
people were in the Queen’s Service for heaven’s sake! They acted no
better than common...” he stopped himself just short of ‘mercenaries’.
He glanced quickly at Lamont, but either it didn’t catch what he’d been
about to say or politely pretended not to. “They didn’t even wait to go
home for a trial. They stripped me of my rank in front of the crew.
And when we passed by here, they dumped me. So here I am. The
hotshot protégé of the fleet.”
“What about your family?” Lamont asked gently.
“I’m sure they told my brother I deserted.”
“You could contest that.”
“My word against an entire crew? I might as well save time
and behead myself.”
“If you allowed pentha...”
He shook his head. “Truth drugs aren’t allowed on Mueller’s
World. Sacrilegious or something. No, face it, Captain, I’m a bad bet.”
He stood. “Thanks for the tea.”
“You’re welcome, Commander. Would you like dinner before
or after you select quarters?”
Butler stared.
“I told you, I wanted people who had been there. People who
had the integrity and guts to make tough choices.” It smiled. “People
who need a bed and a meal badly enough not to quibble over a
paycheck.”
Butler stared a moment longer before he let a return smile
grow across his own face. Lamont came over and put out its hand.
“Welcome aboard, Commander.”
“Thank you, Captain.” They shook hands. “Captain Lamont,
isn’t it?”
“Yes. Coy Lamont.”
“Ken Butler.”
“I know.”
“You know a lot.”
“My officers called to say you were on your way. The bartender knew your name.”
“Oh. Right.” So simple. “So who actually owns this outfit?”
“I do.”
“You and what Bank?”
“Just me. It’s a long story. But it is mine. And it needs an exec.”
Ken grinned. “Ironic, somehow. Now, I have to take it . As
long as you don’t have any young upstarts that go around punching
officers. Besides, you mentioned something about dinner?”
Coy added his name to the roster. Eleven people. Could anyone save the universe with eleven people?
Don’t be silly, an inner
voice mocked. You’d need at least twenty to save the
whole
universe.