Black Dawn (8 page)

After viewing the recorded message, Lamont had Butler see it
as well.
“That's all?” Ken exclaimed. “ 'Dear Captain Lamont, come
to tea.' “
Coy gave a short nod. “Whatever it's about, he didn't want to
say on record.”
“And he thinks you're going to waltz right over, with no backup?”
“He did mention that I should come alone. As I recall, a lot of
people in his government did not like the idea of a mercenary ship on
their doorstep.”
“They didn't mind us dropping their people safely on that
doorstep.”
“True enough.” Coy leaned back in its desk chair. “I haven’t
decided whether to take the small shuttle or commercial transport.
Either way, by the time I get back, Vennefron should be up and
around. This would also be an opportune time to put in some of the
modifications Raeph has been itching to do. I might even call in a big
favor and see if this “quad” cannon that BetaTech was bragging about
is all they say it is. I’ve got the capital for the parts. Our shipping
company favor should be able to get everything here in time. You can
rotate shore leave for the crew as well.”
“You're not serious.”
“Shore leave would be good for everyone.”
“Very funny. You can't go alone.”
“The invitation clearly stated only myself.”
“What if it's a trap?”
“Then you would inherit command. And given the BlackFleet’s job description I would expect a timely rescue.”
Butler's jaw dropped. “Skipper...”
Lamont got up to pace. As usual it ended up staring out of the
large portal. “You were out of line the other day, Ken. This is my
fleet. I own it. I command it. I make the rules. You signed on, agreeing to obey those commands and rules.”
Butler could think of no response other than, “Yes sir.”
“However, you forced me to see some things. My own contradictions. I want command. I’ve worked and dreamed and sweated
for it as much as any officer in space. I don’t understand what keeps
me from...” It stopped, shook its head as if to clear it, then straightened, and said to the stars, “Either we're vigilantes, or we're not.
But...” It turned and looked directly at Butler. “...if you ever have a
problem with my command decisions, you will follow proper protocol.
Is that understood?”
For a moment Ken was speechless. Instead of being jobless
once again as he deserved, his position was being confirmed. He replied with an amazed, “Yes, sir.”
Coy gave him a nod to indicate the subject was closed. “However, I still don't want a huge business with tons of people tripping
over themselves. I
want
small teams.”
“Teams.” Butler managed. “As in plural.”
Coy managed not to sigh. “It is probably more… realistic. But
I will not compromise the BlackFleet standards. Anyone hired has to
match the precedent we've set.”
“Yes, sir.” Butler heroically tried to keep the victory he was
feeling out of his voice.
“So we’ll need an updated plan of operation. What would we
need to do the job right , keeping in mind...”
“That you don’t want tons of people tripping over each other,”
Ken finished.
Lamont looked at him with an expression Butler could not
read. After a moment’s pause, it said, “While I’m gone, I want you and
Schiff to sit down and work on the plan.”
“Gone? You’re not seriously going alone.”
“Tony Knepp is probably the best all around trooper we have.
He will accompany me. But that’s all.”
“But...”
“Don’t push your luck, Ken. I don’t concede too many things
in one day.”
Just the hint of a grin and, “Yes, sir.”

Coy walked along beside the President as he spoke of his gratitude to the BlackFleet for having saved his advisors and their families.
Coy smiled and nodded acknowledgment, wondering all the while
where this was leading. The rescue, however dramatic, was old news.
Why had Coy been summoned here, now?
Not even the Fleet, just
Coy.

It had taken flat out pulling rank to even be here. Bon had
been just as unhappy as Butler about trusting Coy's intuition. It had to
admit, it probably would not have let either one of them go, had the
situation been reversed. But it wasn't. Coy and Knepp had traveled on
a commercial passenger liner, since so far Hoffman was the only JP
and Coy would not leave the
Raven
flightless.

While its host talked and Coy pondered, the corridor they
were following led them to one of the main docking bays of this space
station orbiting above their world. They paused before the tube. The
President placed his hand almost affectionately on the sealed hatch.
“This is one reason I've asked you here, Captain. I would like

A nod, and a bodyguard/trooper unlocked the seals and cycled
the airlock.
“Come with me.”
Coy obediently followed, glancing uncertainly at the two
guards bringing up the rear, immediately behind Tony, wondering if it
were as stupid as Butler had thought.
At the other end of the tube, they entered the ship. The President rather pointedly stepped aside, and waved an arm to indicate the
entire vessel.
“An honest opinion, Captain.”
Coy spent most of the afternoon poking around, peering into
empty cabins, checking engineering schematics, running through nonsecured computer files. Which, to Coy's surprise, meant all the computer files. There was only one name on the manifest. Guillermo, the
jump pilot.
At the end of the lengthy inspection, which had included a
quick lunch in the main mess for the entire entourage, Coy began
trolling for answers.
“A very nice ship, Mr. President. Actually much nicer than I
would have expected from your situation as I recall it.”
“Better than this planet is capable of producing? You're absolutely right. We could no more afford these kinds of ships than we
could an army of our own.” He nodded at Coy's mercenary uniform,
recalling their former relationship.
“This vessel was commissioned
off world to be my presidential ship. Unfortunately, by the time it was
ready...”
The President broke off and gave a small nod to the guards,
who promptly exited. Knepp took up station just outside the door,
leaving them sitting alone in a small conference room.
“Captain, there have been several changes in our government
since we spoke last. Number one, I lost the election.”
Coy had no appropriate comment on that, so kept quiet.
“I'm not surprised, however disappointed I may be. The point
is, I have no faith whatsoever in my successor honoring our debt to
you.”
Coy paused for only a moment. Here it was, their first taste of
the central flaw with the whole Favor system. “I see. Kind of you to
let me know.”
The president either read Coy’s expression or expected its assumption. “I have no intention of defaulting on what I owe,” he said
defensively. “My problem is time. Or lack of it. Mere days in fact.
This is my solution.”
Coy cocked its head. “Sir?”
He waved around, dramatically. “This ship. I hope your evaluation was honest. I know you were supposed to choose your favor, but
as I said, I'm out of time. You can use her, sell her for cash, or trade
her for a favor you do need.”
Another ship. The BlackFleet had just doubled in size.
“Ah, sir, this is a generous gesture...” Coy began.
“It's not a gesture. It's a fact.” He reached into a pocket and
pulled out a data disk. “It's in your name. At least the name Coy Lamont. You may transfer it however you wish.” Coy hesitated at taking
the disk. “I'm sorry Captain, I am profoundly sorry, but I must wash
my hands of any political connection to you as soon as possible. This
is the best I could do.”
Coy took the disk and shook the offered hand firmly.
“I am glad our association has been mutually beneficial. Your
world has lost an honorable leader.”
The soon-to-be-former President studied Coy's face, searching
for sarcasm, or hollow politics. He found neither. He nodded his head
in acknowledgment. “Your pilot should be boarding even as we
speak. I realize the three of you hardly make a crew, but I do urge
your hasty departure. This is only mine to give for a short time longer.”
He stood.
Coy stood as well, wondering if every time it got a new ship it
would have to run like hell with it. “I understand. I wish you well.”
“Same to you, Captain. And to your crew.” With no further
comment, the President gathered his bodyguards from the main hall
and departed.
They were gone only moments when the door chime sounded.
“Enter,” Lamont called.
The door slid open to reveal a young man with the coveted
tattoo of a jump pilot. Knepp followed him in, eyebrows drawn down
in confusion. “Captain Lamont?” the young man asked.
A nod. “Pilot Guillermo?”
“Yes, s--ah---sir?” He frowned. And reddened.
Coy considered what it knew of New Terre’s culture. Doubtless they had even less engineering for genetics than they did for
spacecraft. “ I'm a hermaphrodite. 'Sir' is fine.”
The pilot blinked in embarrassment but nodded.
“I'm going to run some checks. Go ahead and get clearance
and plot a course for the Transit point. But don't move this ship a centimeter until I give the word.”
“Aye, sir.” He started to leave, then paused. “I'm a mercenary
now, aren't I, sir?”
“Yes Guillermo, you are. Not a personal aspiration, I take it?”
He shrugged. “Never thought about it.” He grinned suddenly.
“Would sure shake 'em up back home.”
“You enjoy shaking them up back home?”
A dark cloud passed over his face briefly.
“I became a pilot,”
he stated. As if that explained everything.
“I see.” Without the use of genetic engineering, Guillermo
must be a natural born pilot. Coy knew some worlds saw people such
as that as almost mystical. No doubt his family had hoped that he
would use his “gifts” for something less commercial than flying a
spaceship around.
“I doubt it.”
Coy raised a brow. “You might be surprised, Guillermo. And
yes, we mercenaries tend to make a living out of shaking people up.”
The grin returned to the pilot's face. “It's Gil.”
“Pardon?”
“Everyone calls me Gil.”
“All right, Pilot Gil, how about that clearance?”
“Yes, Sir!” He gave a somewhat amateurish salute and trotted
off to the bridge.
Tony watched him go, then turned back to Lamont. “Sir?”
Coy sighed. It seems, like it or not, the BlackFleet has acquired a new member.” It waved around the room to indicate the ship.
Knepp’s eyes went wide. “This ship? They just gave us a
ship?” Then he paused. “Who’s gonna fly it back to the Fleet?”
For one of the first time in its life, Coy gave a very genuine
smile.

Ken Butler forced his eyes open and raised his wrist com,
softly chiming for attention, up to his mouth.
“Butler. Go ahead,” he intoned sleepily.
Friedhoff's voice came back. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we
have an incoming message.”
“From who?” In the back of Ken's mind he thought about Coy
Lamont correcting the “who” to “whom.”
“It's the Skipper.”
Ken was now awake. “Pipe it down, Karl.”
“Aye, sir.”
In a moment, Coy's image appeared on Butler's vidcom, wearing a very guarded expression even for Lamont.
“Hello, Captain Butler. An interesting thing happened to me
on my little visit. I have acquired another ship. I'm calling her the
Nighthawk
.”
Coy's face disappeared and was replaced by the visual representation of the ship. Not a sleek and elegant cruise liner like the
Raven
, but an actual military vessel; technically a light cruiser. Coy's
face returned.
Butler was staring openmouthed. “ A ship. A whole new ship.
Just like that?”
“The President signed it over to me to pay off his debt. I'm
still trying to decide what to do with it. I assume you have that plan
ready?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we do. Another ship! This is great!”
Coy raised a hand to fend off Butler’s enthusiasm. “I'm sending along the schematics for you and Bon to go over. We’ll talk more
when I get there. Right now the crew consists of myself, Knepp and
the pilot, so we’re a little busy.” It paused as if to say more, but evidently changed its mind. “Lamont out.”
Ken stared at the dark screen where the holo-image had been.
Of all the things Lamont had said, one replayed in his mind. 'Hello,
Captain
Butler.'
A mistake? Not likely. A few moments earlier, he
had been a Commander.
But two ships meant two captains. As the more inexperienced
of the two, he would probably get the
Nighthawk
, and leave the
Raven
as the flagship of the two-vessel fleet. Anticipation of these events,
even though they were unconfirmed, welled up inside him, and he
waited anxiously for Lamont’s arrival.

When the
Nighthawk
at last flew into visual range, everyone
watching from the viewport gave a murmur of approval. Well, almost
everyone. Bon gave a small moan.

Butler turned to him, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from
his--the--ship.
“What's your problem, Raeph?”
“Oh, I was just remembering the first week on
this
ship. No
crew, four or five people doing the work of thirty. I don't suppose the
Skipper has sent along on updated crew list or anything?”
“No. As far as I know, it's still Lamont, Knepp and the JP,”
Ken admitted.
“Not even an engineer? Not
one
engineer?” Bon groaned.
“Terrific.”
Schiff listened to all of this, disapproval on his face. “The
Skipper knows what it's doing,” he said firmly.
“I'm not criticizing Capt. Lamont,” the engineer told him.
“I
am merely remembering the good ol’ days.”
Despite his complaints, Bon was up front, wearing a grin of
excitement when Lamont's shuttle docked.
It stepped out of the hatch and into the
Raven’s
bay. The senior officers snapped to attention and saluted. Most of the rest of the
crew were on duty, and unable to immediately satisfy their curiosity.
Coy returned the salutes and nodded at Butler , Bon and
Schiff. “I know you want to go look at our new toys, gentlemen. And
then we need to talk.”

“
Alright,” Lamont opened as the four of them settled into the
port briefing room. “How can we use our new acquisition?”
“These schems are really accurate?” Bon asked.
“They seem to be. The president was pretty particular about
his design as I understand it.”
“Well, it will fit in very nicely with some of the concepts that
Schiff and I have come up with,” Butler opened some files of his own
to let Coy read the notes they had made in its absence.
Lamont read in silence for a while, a frown growing as it read.
“Six ships?”
“I figure that would give us an acceptable spread in a space
battle.”
The frown deepened. “And why are we involved in a space
battle?”
“This is why,” Schiff sent a report to his commander’s vid. It
contained a list compiled by Aziza in Vennefron’s absence of distress
signals they had heard or heard about. “These are from all over this
part of the region. Somebody is attacking everything out there.”
“What do you mean ‘everything’?” Coy asked, its frown mutated from annoyance to puzzlement.
Ken counted off on his fingers. “Cargo ships, merchant ships,
private ships, passenger ships, you name it.”
Coy re-read the information. “The same
people attacking?”
“No,” Schiff shook his head. “Different ships, different attack
styles, different places.”
“It’s an epidemic,” Ken said. “Pirates and mercs all over the
region have caught it.”
“And you think six ships is the antidote the galaxy needs?”
Coy asked him.
“It stands a better chance than one ship and 20 people,” Ken
answered, and at Coy’s look added, “and I mean that in the most humble, respectful way.”
Bon cleared his throat at that. “Anyway, back to the
Nighthawk
. It’s a good start.”
“I don’t want six ships. What can we do with the two we
have?”
Butler sighed. I sort of figured that was going to be your response. But we actually have three, counting the
Blackbird
.”
Lamont thought about that for a moment. “You want to cut it
loose from the
Raven
?”
Bon leaned forward eagerly, “It’s got the shielding and weapons. And you know how versatile it is. Recon, troop carrier. A little
more remodeling and it could be anything you wanted.”
“And by the time Raeph’s remodeling was done, Pedula could
be done with his training to pilot it,” Butler added.
“So that means we need to find two more ship commanders,”
Lamont said.
“Ah, two?” Ken asked puzzled.
“One for the
Nighthawk
and one for the
Blackbird
,” Coy stated, and watched Ken's face work to stay neutral.
“I see.”
“Assuming I give you the
Raven
.”
Bon didn’t bother to muffle his laugh at Ken's shocked expression.
“You
what?”
“Command, not ownership,” Coy explained.
“I know, but...”
“If we're going to have three ships, I'll need to command the
fleet, not a single ship.”
Ken blinked. But the
Raven
is your pride and joy!”
“Yes, it is,” Coy agreed. “I'm making the rash assumption that
I'm placing it in competent hands.”
“And whose competent hands are you placing the
Blackbird
and
Nighthawk
in?” Schiff asked.
Lamont raised its eyebrows at him in inquiry. “I thought you
might have a suggestion for the
Blackbird
, at least.”
“Rebel,” he said without hesitation. “He should’ve been an
officer all along.”
“I was thinking the same thing about you.”
Schiff shook his head. “I’m happy where I am.”
Coy raised an eyebrow. “Funny, that’s what I thought, too.
But if this keeps growing we may all find ourselves in new places.” It
looked back at its notes. “We concentrate first on the
Blackbird
upgrades. Manning the
Nighthawk
will wait until after that.”
“Then we can keep her?” Butler asked, sounding more like a
little boy who had brought home a puppy than a ship commander.
Lamont tried not to smile at the image as it nodded to Butler.
“Yes, Captain, we will keep it. Now let’s get Rebel in here and give
him the news about his promotion. You're still Fleet Exec, as well as
flag Captain, so on top of your regular duties, his training will be up to
you. “
Butler rose and snapped off a salute. “I live to serve, Commodore Lamont.”
Coy rolled its eyes. “Speaking of epidemics, you’ve caught it
from Raeph.”
Bon grinned, “Yes, but now you can’t complain anymore. If
you’re commanding three ships, it’s proper. Besides if you bump
Ken up, you move ahead of him.”
“Consider it one of those new places you were just talking
about,” Ken added.
Lamont did consider it. Its gut reaction was to protest. Which
made less and less sense, the more it thought about it. Finally it sighed
as if surrendering. “Well, at least it keeps me on top of him.”