Rich Man's War (23 page)

“Yeah, well, better injured than dead or held hostage.” One corner of his mouth spread out into a half-grin as
Argent’s
weapons landed another hit on the destroyer. He saw missiles streak in from
Joan of Arc
as well, keeping the destroyer preoccupied while
Argent
made her violent escape. True to his assessment, the frigate had been bloodied badly enough that her guns went silent. She didn’t want any more attention from either of her opponents.

Hawkins made it onto the bridge then, breathing heavily within his helmet. He noticed immediately that Casey stood at the tactical station. He also noticed that the captain’s helmet was still back in his otherwise empty chair. “What’s our status?” he asked as he strode over to join Casey.

“See for yourself. We’re doing fine. None of the other ships will move in to intercept in time to catch us. They’re all busy, anyway. Helm, you got a course ready to get us out of the system?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Outstanding,” said Casey. He didn’t bother to look up at Hawkins. “See what I mean?”

“Where’s Peterson?” Hawkins asked.

“Who? Oh, was that his name? I threw him off the bridge. Didn’t follow orders. Can’t have that on a ship. Bad for discipline. You’re the XO, so you get to deal with it. Lemme know how that turns out.” He knew Hawkins would be opening his mouth to say something, but he promptly cut the other man off. “I have this under control. Why don’t you go back to managing all our passengers?” Casey didn’t look at him, choosing instead to work the tactical boards.

It wasn’t the sort of job Hawkins could do better than Casey. Both men knew it.

“Understood,” Hawkins grunted before he stalked off.

Casey and his gunnery crews continued firing as they put the destroyer and frigate behind them, as did the corvette, but the contest was already won. Neither of Archangel’s ships would have trouble getting away now. A triumphant grin spread across the captain’s face.

Casey’s gaze swept the bridge once again. The other men and women in the compartment felt it, too. They’d shared their first danger together and come through under his command. His leadership had carried them through. For all his harsh measures and surly demeanor, they’d survived. The crew wouldn’t forget it.

Nothing won a crew’s loyalty like a victory.

With danger drifting further away, Casey opened up a holo screen and replayed the video of
Argent’s
last few seconds on the ground. He scrolled through camera options to find something focused on the spaceport gate, then watched as his chaff rockets fell all around the rover and detonated. He saw nothing but smoke and rubble. Certainly nobody had moved to check for survivors, and there was no way the corvette would be able to return to the planet now. She had passengers of her own to protect.

Hawkins hadn’t asked about that yet. Perhaps all he’d seen was the blast of particle beam fire that offered Casey his excuse. He’d find out sooner or later, but by then Casey could review every recording and ensure that he’d covered his tracks. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have any justification.

Fucking kid might not be dead
,
but this day keeps getting better and better.

The Last Flight Out

“NorthStar Security personnel are instructed to adopt emergency protocols to protect corporate property and personnel. All other NorthStar employees and their families are advised to shelter in place. NorthStar and its employees are expressly not targets of either hostile party. Please stay safe until further notice.”

--Emergency communique
to employees on Scheherazade, April 2276

The whole world was made up of frightfully intense light, deafening whistles and heat. Tanner hunched over in his seat as the blaze seemed to engulf the rover, arms wrapped around his head. Time seemed to slow down until he became aware of the particularly searing heat on his shoulder. Understanding dawned on him—a piece of chaff had embedded itself in his seat and partially broken off onto his coat.

Tanner opened the door and threw himself out, tumbling into the smoking rubble around the rover. His fumbling, panicked fingers tore the fabric off before the chaff ate through the material and did him real harm.

Outside the rover, the world felt louder. A burst of force shook the air, knocking him to the ground once more. He was dimly aware of Vanessa, who followed him out of the vehicle, but the thunder in the sky drew his attention.

He looked up in time to see
Argent
lift off. Her chaff rockets and laser turrets fired upward while missiles streaked down out of the sky at the liner only to be intercepted or lured away by false readings. The air and ground shook from both missile impacts and the rumble of
Argent’s
engines. The liner remained horizontal for several long seconds, offering Tanner a good look before she tilted her bow skyward and her aft thrusters roared to life.

No one shot at him amid the charred rubble of the gate, the security wall and the rover. If anyone
had tried in those first seconds, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. His ears still rang at a shrill pitch. Several shrill pitches, and maybe a scream or two.

No
.
That’s a real scream.

Vanessa lay on the ground beside him, coughing but alive and uninjured. His eyes turned up toward the rov
er, and then he saw the rapid flashes in the driver’s seat.

Oh God. Sanjay.
Tanner forced himself to his feet and got to the driver’s side door. Sanjay’s left arm burned with an intense bright light, and he howled in pain as he tried to fight his way free of his seatbelt and jacket. Not a single window in the rover had survived, allowing Tanner to reach in and open the door from the inside rather than fighting with the exterior lock. He felt the heat of the pieces of chaff in Sanjay’s arm and smelled his shipmate’s burning flesh.

“Get him out!” shouted Booker from Sanjay’s other side. He was clearly doing all he could from his seat, but it amounted to little more than unclasping Sanjay’s seatbelt. Tanner threw his head and shoulders under Sanjay’s burning arm to get ahold of the panicked crewman’s torso and haul him out. They landed roughly on the concrete, but Tanner at least managed to do it without getting seriously burned.

Sanjay could do little more than thrash and scream. Tanner had to fight him to keep the arm isolated and look at it, but by then Vanessa was there to help keep Sanjay down. The chaff continued to burn as designed in Sanjay’s arm, just as it would even if submerged in water or in the vacuum of space. It would burn until it had exhausted its own chemical fuel, or any fuel it might be able to draw from—in this case Sanjay’s flesh. With Sanjay pinned to the ground now, Tanner realized that he’d already lost fingers and a good deal of flesh at several points. Smoke streamed out of little holes all along the ruined arm from elbow to shoulder. The disgustingly sweet stench left Tanner gagging.

He’d never dig it all out in time. Not before it burned right up to the joint and perhaps into the veins. Tanner jerked his survival knife from its sheath on his leg and activated its heating element. He shifted on his knees to keep Sanjay pinned to the ground and caught Vanessa’s eye.

“Do it,” she urged.

Sanjay screamed. The faceplate of his helmet did nothing to muffle the sound. Tanner swallowed his own horror and despair and shoved his hot knife through his friend’s shoulder. He made himself watch as he held the blade against the severed joint, making sure the wound was cauterized before he pulled the knife away. It only took a couple of seconds.

Tanner then dropped the knife and turned away, shutting his eyes tightly while he tried to breathe and Sanjay’s cries turned to an awful sob of pain. He afforded himself only a breath, perhaps two, wanting for all the world to vomit or run away or both, but he couldn’t. He instead turned back to his friend and pulled open the small first aid kit on his belt.

“Booker, are you al
l right?” Vanessa yelled.

“I’m okay,” came the grunting reply, “just tough to get out of here. Help Sanjay.”

Booker tumbled out of the rover. His helmet and jacket were both gone, suggesting that he’d suffered the same sort of problems with chaff as his subordinates but managed to escape it before it got into his skin. Without a word, Booker joined Tanner and dug into his own first aid supplies. Together they quickly applied painkillers and anti-shock injections, clotting gels and bandages. Vanessa released Sanjay and turned to keep watch over their surroundings.

“You’re
doing good, Sanjay,” said Booker. “You’re gonna get through this.”

“Did you
have to cut it off?” Sanjay asked, his voice wavering. Booker worked Sanjay’s helmet off, revealing an anguished face covered in sweat and tears.

“A hospital can grow
it back for you,” answered Tanner. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’re gonna be fine.”

Sanjay swallowed hard. His breathing eased quickly as the painkillers kicked in. “You don’t sound like I’m fine,” he managed.

“Hey, I’m a little freaked out right now, too,” Tanner replied, trying to flash a reassuring grin.

“Oh god, was I crying?” shuddered the other crewman.

“I cry when people call me names. Listen, I gave you stuff for the pain and shock, okay? You’re gonna be pretty loopy.”

“
Argent’s
long gone,” reported Vanessa as she returned. Only then did Tanner realize the explosions and roar of engines had ceased moments ago. “Looks like everyone thought the whole spaceport was being bombarded and went to ground.”

“
Even the frigates carry ship-to-ship missiles that’d wipe out the whole spaceport with a single hit,” Booker frowned, looking skyward. “They were being careful. Won’t take long for ground forces to realize that.”

“That ship looked familiar,” Tanner noted, still focused mostly on his first aid work.

“It should,” said Vanessa. “You docked with it about a million times.”

Tanner looked up at her. “Huh?”

He saw Vanessa all but bite her lip. “Sorry. Rough day for me, too.” She cast her attention further afield again, though whether it was to keep watch or to avoid Tanner’s gaze, the young man couldn’t tell. “How’d you know the jammer would throw those rockets off?”

“I didn’t,” Tanner shrugged. “I just wanted something to do. Made me feel better.”

Again, he saw Vanessa’s eyes glance at his over her shoulder. This time, he caught sight of her grin.

With Sanjay somewhat stable, Tanner took in their surroundings
. The gate area had been completely demolished around the rover. He saw destroyed tanks off in one direction and a mostly empty flight line in another. Buildings out beyond the gate had been damaged in the explosion of chaff rockets, but still stood. A few others inside the spaceport had clearly suffered the brunt of missed laser cannon blasts and deflected missiles from space. Fighting continued to rage here and there out beyond their immediate area, but the fight for the gate was thoroughly resolved by
Argent’s
chaff missiles.

“
Wait, the jammer?” asked Booker. With a look of sudden realization, he jumped back toward the rover and stuck his head in the passenger door. Booker reached inside, found the jammer unit and turned it off, and then checked his holocom again. “Dammit,” he sighed. “
Joan of Arc
and
Argent
are off the net. They probably think we’re dead. Couldn’t come back for us regardless, not in the middle of all this and with civilians on board.”

Tanner winced. “Did I screw up?”

“Not if you saved our lives.” Booker tossed the unit over his shoulder. “Those chaff rockets swerved at the last second. Now I know why. But either way, our rides just took off.”

Though weakened and disoriented, Sanjay managed to follow the conversation. “Then what do we do?”

“Guess we’ll have to find another ride,” frowned Tanner, “but God only knows where to start. This place is fucked.”

Again, Vanessa grinned at him. “You must learn, grasshopper, to scope out the parking lot before you walk into the party.”

* * *

The wreckage inside the tank forced him into awkward angles, but with some effort Harris pulled his leg free from the collapsed console. It hurt like hell, but he gritted his teeth, sucked up the pain and crawled toward the hatch over the front driver’s seat. With the turret blown half to hell, he
couldn’t get out any other way.

Thankfully, the hatch flew open upon the pull of its release lever. Harris saw blue sky above. Favoring his bad leg, he climbed halfway out to look around. He found the spaceport largely still standing despite the destruction in his immediate surroundings. The other tank clearly got hit worse than his. The rover lay a couple dozen
meters up ahead in a smoking ruin.

Its former occupants shuffled across open terrain.

Harris’s hand went to his sidearm. Four people, one of them limping and one of them outright carrying another. No cover, moving in a nice and predictable line. Obvious injuries. He could take at least two down before they turned and reacted, maybe another before they returned fire. His hand was a bit shaky, given all he’d been through, but he could manage this. His pistol offered computer assistance even on rapid fire.

He had it halfway up before he considered how many times those four had surprised him already.

They’d chewed through a couple tanks and the better part of an infantry platoon before hitting the spaceport. They’d survived this much, and Harris wasn’t in the best shape right now. He had a pistol. He saw at least two rifles among them. And he was alone.

He could take down maybe two of them, three at the most, before he suffered any return fire. But he
would
take that return fire, and he might not inflict much damage in his opening shots. His leg hurt like hell. So did his back, come to think of it.

Abnett
might suffer some heat for losing his stupid holocom if Harris recovered it, but that would be the end of the matter. It wasn’t as if Harris would get a commendation or a bonus or a “pat on the back” letter in his file for all his efforts. Just as likely, fucking Abnett would cover up the whole issue so he wouldn’t get in trouble for having lost it in the first place.

NorthStar Security recognized Harris as an elite, but still a grunt. He led squads and platoons of similarly elite grunts, but nothing beyond that. His last promotion
was over a decade ago. The ceiling above him now could only be broken by the sort of networking and connections that a guy like him never got the opportunity to make.

Somewhere along the way, Harris’s career had become a job.

His leg hurt, his back hurt and he knew it’d be a good long while before he could rest again. Better to dig out the medical kit and take care of his injuries than to knock himself out trying to clean up some other guy’s mistakes. Hell, at this point, all he had to do was say he wasn’t sure if they lived through the explosion. Abnett would be perfectly happy to keep his mouth shut and hope nothing further came of the matter.

Harris holstered his weapon and turned his attention from the fleeing enemy. It didn’t exactly cost him a chance at a bonus in his paycheck.

* * *

“I can’t believe we’re just floating on out of here after all that,” said Booker from the co-pilot’s chair.

“Malone, hit him,” said Vanessa. She sat in the pilot’s chair of the boxy packet ship. After Vanessa led the others right to the ship’s hangar and defeated the building’s security within seconds, none of the men were of a mind to object when she took the seat. She was the only one who could read Arabic without the aid of translation software, anyway.

“Why would I hit him?” asked Tanner. He stood behind the two, looking out at the void and hoping it would remain so nicely empty.

“He just jinxed us.”

“No, I think he’s right
.” A holographic display of the packet ship’s sensor bubble floated over the controls. “Looks like all the nearest ships are engaged. Any one of them could hit us pretty easily at this distance if they wanted to. I guess we don’t rate the attention.”

“What’d I say about jinxing us?”