Black Dawn (7 page)

The combat squad sat silently in the passenger area watching
their hands and feet and waiting for a word from Lamont. The captain
itself sat across from Butler, staring ahead, but seeing who knew what.

Eventually, it blinked, noticed it was looking at Butler and
nodded. Remembering the payment, it also pointed to a minicomp
clamped near Butler’s seat. He handed it over wordlessly. Coy stuck
the token in, read the amount and raised one eyebrow. After pulling up
some other notes and files, it switched off the scanner and returned it.

Coy leaned back in its seat and closed its eyes. “I have never,”
it began quietly, “seen a mission go so well. I was very proud to be a
member of the BlackFleet.”

There was no cheering. Only a lot of held breaths being released.
As usual, Pierce was the first to speak up. “Shouldn’t we celebrate or something? All those party rooms on the
Raven
should be for
something.”
Lamont opened one eye and peered at her. “I want people to
stay functional.”
“Oh,” she frowned, thinking seriously, “I suppose we could
manage that.”
Coy closed the eye. “All right. Go for it.”
“Yes!” she clenched her fist in victory. “Thanks, Mom. Or
Dad. Or Whatever.”
Coy resisted the temptation to glare at her. It was probably
what she wanted, anyway.
When at last they reached the
Raven
,
Bon and the others did
greet them with a cheer as the first trooper stepped through the hatch
onto the
mother ship. Bon personally clapped Butler on the back and shook his
hand.
“Well, done, Commander!”
Last of all, Captain Lamont emerged from the
Blackbird,
cool
and silent. Bon started over to repeat his congratulations, but at Lamont’s expression he wisely tampered down his enthusiasm.
“You’ve trained a good team, Skipper,” he said, sincerely.
Coy nodded. “I understand there’s to be a victory celebration.
It may commence as soon as helmet recorders are collected and troopers are debriefed.” Coy turned to Butler. “I’ll be in my quarters,” it said
quietly and strode off.

Butler caught up with Lamont before it reached the cabin door.
Coy glanced in his direction but continued palming open the door lock.
“I don’t need any hand holding, Commander.”

“I heartily disagree, Captain,” he returned cheerfully. “As
your next in command, your emotional health is extremely important
to me.”

Without a word, Coy entered the cabin and brought the lights
up only about halfway. But it did not stop Butler from following. Ken
went to a chair by the desk and made himself comfortable.

Coy paced for only a moment , then sank down on the seat
behind the desk. It sat, looking at its hands, which trembled very
slightly. “That was .....so hard,” Coy’s voice was almost a whisper.
“I kept waiting for the automatics to kick in, but they never did. I had
to think about each step. Doing it all on sheer will power. I could’ve
gotten us all killed.”

“But you didn’t. Autopilot
or manual, you got the job done. I
think that’s what counts.”
Coy shook its head. “Not to me. I have to
know.
I used to
know...I,” it stopped and gave a long sigh. “...am so tired.”
After a long silence, Butler took the hint and stood. “Remember something, Captain. There’s a whole ship of people here that believe in you. Run on that for awhile if you have to.” Lamont didn’t
answer. Butler remained were he stood, waiting for some sign that
Lamont would be all right. He had to admit, his CO’s continued depression concerned him.
“You haven’t asked what we got paid,” Coy said, suddenly.
“You said you’d take care of us. Besides, most of us needed a
meal and bed badly enough not to quibble about a paycheck.” He
stopped and grinned. “But as long as you brought it up...”
Coy looked him in the eye. “Nothing.”
The grin froze. “ Pardon?”
“I didn’t charge them anything.”
Ken opened his mouth, but nothing came out. On the second
try he managed, “Oh.”
“That meal and bed still enough for you?”
The commander cocked his head. “Am I going to be graded on
my answer?”
Coy went to the vidcom and punched up Fleet finances. “They
did volunteer a token payment, which covered expenses. Which means
we basically break even.”
Butler came and read over Coy’s shoulder. “I’m going to
make the assumption you know what you’re doing.”
Coy pulled out the gold disc and handed it to him. “That’s our
real payment.”
He turned it over and over, hoping it was more valuable than it
looked. “What is it?”
“A favor. We may redeem
that
,” Coy pointed to the coin, “for
one Royal favor. Any time. Any size favor.”
Butler looked thoughtful. “Guaranteed?”
“Guaranteed.”
“
Any
favor?”
“Anything we want. Back up, a ship, weapons, supplies, an
alibi, a place to hide, any one of a multitude of things that cash
couldn’t easily buy.”
The grin spread back onto Butler’s face, growing wider as he
absorbed the possibilities. “Is this going to be procedure from now
on?”
“It just might. I think I like it.”
“When are you going to tell the crew?”
“I should as soon as possible. I hope they understand. Anything extra that we get will be divided between everyone as I said.
Twenty people are a lot easier to fund than your normal fleet of thousands. Besides, if we’re ever desperate, I have some property on
Servati that I could liquidate.”
“Property, huh? I’m not even going to ask where you got it.”
He handed the disk back. “Let them party tonight and tell them at the
morning briefing. Which reminds me, I’d better debrief them so they
can get to the party.” He paused. “Are you coming?’
Coy managed to find something fascinating in the computer
files. “I may. Don’t hold your breath. And...” it added as Ken was
leaving. “Make sure senior staff stays functional.”
He saluted, still grinning and exited.
Coy turned off the computer, locked the door and stared out
into the blackness of space.

The
streaked along in space, lurching at another direct
hit on the shields. They returned fire, but their pursuers’ shielding was
as good as their own.

Captain Lamont braced itself against the changes in gravity
and remained peering intently at the tactical display, trusting the pilot
and weapons officer to keep them alive long enough to use the brilliant
plan it was still trying to come up with. There was a flicker in the
small representation of the large enemy vessel behind them.

“What was that? Bon, what happened to them?” Coy called to
the chief engineer.
Bon studied his own monitors. “They have a fluctuating
shield.”
“Parker!”
“On it,” the weapons officer called as her fingers sped over her
targeting console. And a few moments later, “Shield is down, Captain.”
“Keep up the firepower.”
“She’s turning,” Aziza announced, “protecting that side.”
“Good. They’ll be out of pursuit position temporarily. Let’s
see what we can do with that. How close is that transit portal?”
“Ten minutes,” Hoffman answered through gritted teeth at the
abuse “he” was taking. No one but pilots themselves understood the
complicated relationship they had with their ships. The headset physically connected their brain to the navigation system, allowing them to
weave the ship through Transit. The ship was, from the pilot’s perspective, an extension of themselves.
Coy knew and understood Hoffman’s feelings, but now was
not the time for sympathy. “Make it five”. Lamont thought ahead to
what was on other end of their trip. “It’s time to call in a marker.”

By the time the pursuing craft had followed them, the
Raven
was nowhere to be found.
This was a system with two major Transit portals relatively
close to each other. The two inhabited planets they served had been at
each other’s throats in an intra-system war only a short time ago. But
rumor had it that a third party had helped them begin to settle their differences peacefully.
While calculating where their quarry could have gone, the
commander of the pursuers contacted the system’s portal station.
“Why should your chase concern us?” the officer responded.
“This Portal is not under any blockades or restrictions. We do not harass passersby.”
“These are not passersby. They’re mercenaries. Thieves. We
are only attempting to stop them and retrieve that which is ours.”
“I’m sorry we cannot help you. Your vengeance means nothing to us. We have our own concerns. Good day.”
The commander growled as the image from the transmission
faded to nothing. He looked again at the computer displaying the area
and his choices. “Can’t you pick up any traces?” he snapped at his
sensor officer.
“Yes, sir. In fact, lots of them.” the man reported nervously.
“What do you mean?”
“According to all this, I’d guess at least five ships have moved
through this area within the last hour. Either these folks are doing a
great commercial business or...”
“Reinforcements. Damn.”
“Orders?” the pilot asked.
His commander glared at him. “Do you want to take on fresh
warships with an exhausted crew and buckling shields?” He punched
the nearest control board in frustration. “Take us back. And pray we
survive the debriefing.”

Later, the five decoy ships came back through the Portals and
returned to their home station. As they came into dock, the
Raven
gracefully left it, and with heartfelt thanks set their course away from
the system.

Coy stood up
from its station chair and stretched. “Good work
everyone. Commander, let’s deliver this package as promised. I’ll be
in my quarters. You have the conn.”

The
Raven
waited in orbit as Captain Lamont, Commander
Bon and Sgt. Schiff escorted their cargo down to its anxious owners.
The officers exited the shuttle and were met by company officials, led
by the Chairman of the Board himself.

Everyone watched as Bon and his engineers delivered four
float pallets of crates. They conferred briefly in low tones about temperature, stability and other factors that no one outside the techs
would’ve understood had they been able to hear.

The CEO grabbed Lamont’s ha
nd and pumped it excitedly.
The BlackFleet troopers acting as guards snapped into defense positions at the sudden movement but relaxed at a gesture from Lamont.
“Captain, I can’t possibly thank you enough. We have security, but nothing equipped to handle pirates such as those.”

“That’s our job, Mr. Chairman. To help out where we’re needed.”
“Now, about your compensation. My assistant tells me you do
not intend to turn in a bill for your services.”
“That is correct.”
The man shook his head. “I can’t imagine your motives. But I
can’t afford the reputation of not paying my debts. What kind of arrangement can we make?”
Coy smiled. “All I ask of you is your word of a return favor
should I ever need it.”
“A favor? What kind of favor could I do for the commander
of a mercenary warship?”
“Off the top of my head I could think of a number of ways the
owner and operator of such a large shipping business could come in
very handy.”
The other pondered this for a moment. “I somehow get the
feeling it would be cheaper to simply pay cash now. What would happen if I decided not to redeem my word when you ask for it?”
Coy’s smile became just a little cooler. “A man that couldn’t
afford the reputation of not paying debts wouldn’t even need to ask
such a thing. And very surely wouldn’t break his word. To the commander of a mercenary warship.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “I see your point. You have my
word.”
Coy gave a small bow. “Thank you.” Lamont collected the
others with a look and went back into the shuttle. The guards followed
behind the officers and engineers and they lifted off.

In the shuttle, Bon watched Coy for a moment, as it sat gazing
out at the stars. “You’re accomplishing what you set out to do, you
know.”

It looked over at the sudden stat
ement. “What do you mean?”
“Think back a couple of months. The beginning days of the
BlackFleet. I would walk down those amazing corridors and you
know what I would see? A couple of drunks, a recluse or two, some
refugees, and at least three potential suicides.”
“And what do you see now?”
Bon’s spine straightened automatically. “Heroes.”

Captain Lamont walked into the briefing room, wearing a serious expression. Butler, Bon, and Schiff seated around the conference
table, watched anxiously. Lamont carefully loaded the contents from
the data disk it had brought into the room's vidcom. Information came
up on holo-screens all around the table. All the BlackFleet personnel
present read through it quickly.

“
This," Lamont spoke evenly, “is the proposed job. The
Regent has verified that four very important political figures are being
held behind their enemy lines. Our mission is to get them out.”

“
'Behind enemy lines' sounds just a little vague, Skipper,”
Butler commented. He pointed to his screen. “I don't see an address
here....”

“
Venn should have the location pinpointed by the time we
arrive.”
“We use the shuttle?” Schiff guessed.
Coy shook its head. “Both of our shuttles do have enough
extra shielding to drop at the speeds we will need, but I want the
Blackbird
on site for close air support faster than a shuttle could lift.”
Butler looked up at that. He locked eyes with Lamont, but said
nothing.
“Manned by whom?” Schiff asked it for him.
“Pedula, Vennefron and Luka.”
“Just three…!” Butler spat out before he could stop himself.
Lamont stared at him with no expression. “Yes, Commander?”
Ken looked as if he were having an internal debate, but finally
shook his head.
Coy went back to its notes. “ All right, here is the plan....”
They went over logistics, attack plans, and time frames, as the
Raven
sped through space.
Hours later, the planet loomed below them. Coy had never
been to this system before and it was struck by the beauty of the world.
Even as contingency scenarios played through its mind, it marveled at
the swirling pale blue clouds surrounding the aqua colored ball. Every
planet was an artistic masterpiece in its own right. Coy would never
tire of seeing new ones. It gave an internal sigh and focused its
thoughts on the reality that could be awaiting them beneath those
clouds.
The
Raven
went into a high orbit, the
Blackbird
dropped like a
rock through the atmosphere to their planned landing site. Although
the ‘
Bird
normally had artificial gravity as did the larger ships, the
power from
the A.G. units had been diverted to shielding in order to protect them
from the friction with the atmosphere due to the speed of their descent.
As a consequence, everyone would have been smears of goo on the
ceiling had it not been for the seat straps and padding.
Lamont stared as straight ahead as possible, feeling the adrenaline rush building. This was the closest the BlackFleet had come to a
true commando drop raid. Eight people. Hardly a commando squad.
But they knew their stuff, and that's what counted in the thick of
it...Wasn’t it? Quality over quantity. The BlackFleet creed.
With a heart-stopping
thud
, the yacht landed, ending the wild,
ear-popping ride as suddenly as it had begun. Coy had often marveled
at, and was grateful for, the technology the ship's original owner had
installed into his vessels. Very few ships could match their versatility.
But now was not the time for pondering ship design anymore than it
was for second guessing its choices.
With well practiced precision everyone unclipped straps and
hurried into formation. Coy spared a look to the pilot.
“I’ll be ready if you need me, Skipper,” Myke said confidently.
Coy nodded once at him and then at Schiff. Now.
The troopers poured out of the side hatch, weapons ready. On
Schiffs cue, they started moving across the field where they had landed
, taking advantage of whatever natural shielding they could.
The target was a small compound just ahead. Even as they
maneuvered closer, soldiers came out to meet and greet them with
weapons.
BlackFleet hit the ground and returned fire.
“Pedula! Cover us!” Lamont shouted into its headset above
the din.
The
Blackbird
took off instantly and swooped down, flying
barely above their heads, firing ahead of the squad. The enemy fell
back hastily. The BlackFleet advanced, following Pedula's scorched
trail. As he reached the buildings, he veered off, and went back to his
holding position.
The troopers battled for the last few feet on their own. Once at
the compound, two person teams searched each building.
At the third
one, Schiff’s voice came over the com.
“Got 'em Skipper. There's six, not four.”
Randy Sweggert, Coy’s partner gave a grin. “ Does that mean
we get a bon....”
His words were cut off as the enemy, evidently not believing
the hostages worth the fight, blew the building.
“Sergeant!”, Lamont shouted and began heading through the
rubble even as the dust and pebbles rained down on them.
“We're....” his voice choked back, “It’s Pierce! She's....”
Coy checked through its headset channels as it ran. Yes,
Schiff’s was intact. Pierce's was still transmitting, but just barely.
Medical. Medical. Telemetry came up. With bad news.
“
Blackbird
, keep everyone busy. We’re on our way!”
By the time Coy and Sweggert reached the site, Knepp and
Rebel had arrived as well. Coy took in the scene. More people were on
the ground than on foot. One was in black armor.
Knepp, doubling as corpsman for this trip pulled the collapsible stretcher from his pack and stretched it out next to the unconscious
Andrea Pierce.
“How many hostages do we have?” Coy barked.
“Five,” came Rebel’s reply. “Maybe six, if we try a portable
stasis.”
“Bring them all. Our ride is ready.”
Knepp hooked an emergency backpack onto Pierce's battle
armor. The medical program came back on line and instantly released
a combination of chemicals into her system. She was placed carefully
on the stretcher, one hostage was put on another, and they all headed
back the way they had come.
By the time they got back to the field, the yacht was ready to
lift. Vennefron and Luka took up positions on either side of the open
hatch, and shot cover fire over their heads.
Almost there. Coy looked up at the beckoning hatchway just
in time to see a grenade land on the ramp. Swinging his plasma rifle
like a golf club, Vennefron attempted to knock it away...

It stood in the door of sickbay and surveyed the scene. Nearly
every bed, and two stasis chambers so far, were occupied.
“Captain?” came a thin voice.
Coy had to force itself to turn and look at the speaker. Pierce.
Beautiful Andrea Pierce, now a burnt and bloody imitation of the
strong blond soldier Coy knew. It came close to the bed.
“We got 'em out didn't we?” she whispered.
Coy swallowed before answering.
“The mission was successful. Everyone performed magnificently.
As brave as anyone I've ever
seen.”
She smiled a little through her drug haze, and closed her eyes.
When she didn't open them again, Coy anxiously checked her readouts,
but her heart and breathing plugged on.
A hand touched Coy's arm. Ceal led it away from Pierce's bed.
“I have a battle victim I need your help with, “ she said.
“Anything,” Coy replied quickly, looking at the various patients. They all appeared to be resting. Corpsman Terrell walked
among them with a scanner, checking vitals.
Ceal shook her head. “This patient isn't in bed--but should be.
Surface injuries were minor, but they seem to have affected a lot of old
scars. And being in here, punishing itself is
not
going to help any of
those wounds heal.”
“I see.” Without another word, it walked over to the stasis
unit, and looked down into Vennefron's still features.
“I'm not a martyr, Ceal. I just....”
“You're our commander, Coy, not our parent. And we need a
commander with its head on straight. Now more than ever.” She
paused at the expression on Coy's face. If only she had an anesthetic
for that pain. “Please get some rest, if not sleep, and check in with me
later.”
She started to say something more, but Coy shook it's head.
“I'm okay,” it lied. “I'll----be in my quarters. If anyone joins
Venn, let me know.”
“Of course I will.” She had to say something more. It was in
her job description to heal people. “You do realize that with a different
commander they might have all joined Venn.”
Coy looked at her, but said nothing. Another glance at the
wounded and it left.

Butler was out in the corridor, waiting.
“Now how did I know where you'd be…” he began.
“I've had my quota of patronizing,” Coy cut him off quietly.

“
Did you need something?”
Butler held a hand reader. “Status update.”
Coy took it, read silently, and handed it back. “Keep me posted. Anything else?”

Coy's eyes narrowed at his tone.
“If we increased the size of
the fleet, things like this wouldn't have to happen,” it recited a new
version of the old argument.
“The phrase 'adequate backup' does spring to mind,” he admitted. This wasn't the time to come down on Lamont, but he was unable
to keep it to himself any longer. “A handful more troopers, and...”

“
And Vennefron wouldn't be frozen meat. And Pierce would
still be in one piece, and Erhardt would have two working arms. I
know what happened. I can't forget it. The rest of my
life
, I won't forget it. But it doesn't help anyone now.”

“
But it might next time. We could avoid a next time, Captain.”
“We have Friedhoff and Doutaz now. That will help until the
others are back on their feet....”
“You're not listening,” Ken said angrily, realizing that a conversation like this back home would've gotten him shot, easily. “Two
people, one of them a tech, does not improve our survival odds. We
need
ships
full of soldiers. We need a fleet.”
Coy took a breath and sought for the right words. “I don't
want a fleet as you mean. I want a covert team. I want
this
team and
this ship.”
“
This
team just got blown to hell. If we'd had more perimeter
men in place...”
Fury welled up inside Coy suddenly. “Don't--tell--me--how-to--command,” it bit out.
“Well somebody should,” Butler growled back.
“When I
signed on, I was not aware that this was going to stay a closed society.
I
thought
the idea was to be the vigilantes of the universe--not some
personal therapy of yours that
we're
paying for!”
Coy's eyes narrowed. It was nearly a minute before it spoke.
“Are you through, Commander?”
The coolness in Lamont's tone cut through Butler's hot anger.
He opened his mouth to answer, but instead, took a calming breath. He
had just maneuvered himself into a nasty corner, and he knew it. Lamont probably wouldn’t shoot him outright, but his career was forfeit
he was sure. “I guess I probably am,” he admitted.
Lamont ignored the concession in his voice. “I'm sure you
have duties,” it said coldly, and brushed past him.
For a moment, Ken merely stood still. What had he just done?
Besides stand in an open corridor and blast his commander, that is.
Was mutiny in his blood or what? When he finally focused and looked
around, he found Bon gazing at him. Had the engineer been there the
whole time? He hadn't even noticed.
“Feel better?” Bon asked sarcastically.
Ken drew himself up defensively. “It needed said.”
Bon glanced at the lift tube into which Lamont had disappeared. “Where I come from, we don't tell commanding officers how
to do their job.”
“It might not be correct, but what if it’s the right thing to do?”
Bon looked back. They stood, eyes locked for several seconds. “I believe we both have duties,” Bon said, finally.
Ken nodded and they separated, each to his own tasks.

It took the
Raven
a week to reach Servati in order to check
Vennefron into a hospital for re-animation.
The doctor there echoed Ceal Byars' prognosis of a good recovery. He was very happily impressed with the stasis-prep, and babbled on about the problems that a bad prep always caused.
Lamont waved the physician quiet. “Take the best possible
care of him. Cost is not an issue.”
At that, the talking stopped and treatment began.
Coy and Ceal wandered out of the hospital and stood looking
at the city skyline. Servati was literally the center of the entire Beta
Region. The core of the sphere. And the oldest of the colonized worlds.
The technology base was therefore older, more entrenched. And more
diversified. Other planets may have advanced in certain fields, but on
Servati you could find just about anything you wanted. Tourists came
from all over the region to see the original landing spots of the Alpha
Region Immigrants and to sample the varied entertainments offered.
“Now what?” Ceal asked, as they looked out over the blend of
two centuries of architecture. Evidently a little of every style had been
tried. Stone spires competed for attention with round silver domes.
Ground cars drove along under a moving ceiling of hovercraft. Servati’s capitol city was nothing if not eclectic. “A little R&R would do
you good.”
They began walking vaguely back in the direction of the local
transit system.
“I do have some property here that I've never seen. I suppose I
should look in on it at some point.”
“Sounds like a good idea. You and Ken could check it out.”
Coy stopped walking and turned to stare at her. “Ken?”
“You two need to talk.”
“We talk.”
“No. You give orders, and he says 'Yes sir.' He’s just biding
his time waiting to be dumped somewhere - again.”
Coy looked truly surprised. “Dump him? Why?”
“For telling you off.”
Lamont began walking again. “I see.”
“I don’t.”
“He won’t be ‘dumped’ because his point was not wrong.”
“Then why the cold treatment?”
“His method was.”
They boarded the public tram and headed for the shuttle port.
Being a cosmopolitan planet, their uniforms received only minor curious stares, but they had a car to themselves none the less.
“Shouldn’t you tell him this? You can’t let him keep wondering forever.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” The subject seemed to be
closed and the two continued the trip without further comment.
Ceal sat watching Coy’s face. There was a tension that she
hadn’t seen since the first days of the BlackFleet. A grief, if that’s
what it was, that she had hoped it had dealt with at last. It seemed she
was wrong.
But
could she, and should she, say something? Her status as medical officer gave her an inside line that others, even command staff didn’t
have, and Lamont had opened up to her on more than one occasion.
She did not want to abuse that and lose it. But when would it be any
more private than it was right now? “So, what else is up?”
Coy attempted to keep up the stoic expression for a little longer. As it lost the attempt it turned to face out of the port. “People died.”
“Yes.”
It turned back to look at her. “One of
my
people.”
She tried to keep her voice as professional as possible. “He
should recover. The stasis prep…”
“I could’ve lost.” Its voice was anguished.
“Yes,” she agreed again. “That is always a possibility.”
“Not for me.”
“Why not?”
Coy looked at her as if perplexed. “I need to win,” it said as if
that explained something.
“Everyone wants to win…”
“I don’t
want
to. It’s my …my job to succeed.”
Now she was the one who was perplexed. “According to
who?”
Coy paused, unable to answer.
She tried again. “Coy, what’s really going on? In your head?
Right now?”
Coy took a steadying breath. “I want…I want to command…but it’s not…”it seemed to have to work hard to get the words
out. “Riga. They didn’t make me to…I get angry, and sad and , and
things I don’t even understand. I’m not supposed to.” It gave a sigh.
“Everything is changing.”
Ceal frowned, trying to sort out the speech. “You’re not supposed to feel things?”
Coy gave a small nod. “Emotions get in the way.”
“Of winning?” she guessed. “Of succeeding?”
“Exactly.”
Ceal thought back to other conversations she and Lamont had
had about its past. “Riga purposely suppressed your emotions? But
human beings need emotions. Pride and loyalty can help you succeed…”
“I’m not a…”
“Don’t tell me you’re not human.” She cut it off. “Conceived
or constructed, you’re still a person. I’m a med tech remember? I have
your scans and files if you want proof. Besides. You obtained the
Raven
. You started the Fleet. You give us our missions. Not Riga. You
don’t belong to them anymore.”
From the way it stared at her, she knew she had gone a step too
far. It retrieved its stoic face from before and crossed its arms, building
an instant wall. “You’re right. We should be able to recover all of our
personnel.” It glanced out of the port as the tram car slowed to a stop
and said nothing more.
It's wrist com bleeped just as Coy stepped onto the shuttle for
the trip to the
Raven ,
breaking the silence.
“Lamont. Go ahead.”
“Skipper, we have a message for you from New Terre. Coded
and personal,” Aziza informed Coy.
“New Terre? They want us to do another job for them?” Rescuing some of their ambassadors had been one of the Black Fleet’s
earliest missions.
“No clues.”
“All right, I'm on my way up. Shunt it to my quarters.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”