“This is a public place, and I have Laconian troops on site. Drop your weapon, or face the consequences!”
The man gazed at the new arrival, trying to gauge whether he could shoot him down in the time it would take for him to draw his weapon. The wait seemed to last forever as the small group stared at each other, looking for the sign that would signal their intention. Either the stress or the fear finally took hold, but the man threw his weapon to the floor. The Laconian man stood and watched, still unmoving as he watched his target.
“Okay, you win,” he said nervously.
The tense standoff continued until a shake of the guard’s left hand brought in a group of six security men. Each wore body armour and carried electrified stun rods and riot pulse pistols. It was the kind of gear used by riot police for non-fatal confrontations. They rushed past him and grabbed the man, placing cuffs on him and then dragging him out. Two more grabbed the injured criminal and forced him to his feet so he could be removed, albeit in great pain. Only the leader of their unit remained, the tough looking Laconian.
“My apologies for the intrusion,” he said in a monotone voice and turned to leave.
“Wait!” called out Xenophon. He moved up to the man and stopped to speak with him. Next to each other they almost looked like a teenager and a middle-aged man. They were that apart in bulk and general build.
“Yes?” he asked.
“What about the bodies? Don’t you want to know why they were here?”
The Laconian looked throughout the room, glancing at the dozens of individuals as well as the casualties on the ground.
“They are dead, the suspects are in custody and the escapees are safe,” he said and left the room. Xenophon stood there, speechless and confused. He knew the Laconians were famed for their use of subtle language, but this seemed to be taking the idea to absurd levels. Glaucon and Roxana moved up to him, both as surprised at the events.
“You have to love the Laconians, they don’t waste their words do they?” said Roxana.
The group of automatons approached them and each bowed in turn. They were lithe and stunningly beautiful, nothing like Xenophon or Glaucon had expected. One, in a long black dress spoke with a smooth, gentle voice.
“Thank you, your assistance was not necessary. We are here only to serve.”
Xenophon reached out and touched her arm.
“Are you all unhurt? What did they want?” he asked.
The second automaton smiled at him, her skin barely moving as she spoke.
“We are exiles from the Cilician Gates, and they were bounty hunters.”
“Cilician Gates?” asked Glaucon.
“They’re the group of worlds clustered along the outer border of the Median Empire, not far from where Fort Plymouth was. It is the gateway to the Empire.”
“You’re Imperial slaves? I thought you were completely loyal, and that you had no free will?” Glaucon asked.
“Why would you think that? We are manufactured, but our lack of freewill comes from indoctrination and history, not mechanics or genetics.”
The first woman bowed again.
“We thank you, but we must leave. Our ship awaits us, and we wish to avoid further trouble.”
She turned and the others followed. The rest of the clientele in the bar watched them go with the same level of surprise and interest as Xenophon, Glaucon and Roxana.
A medical team came through the door along with a station official, who headed directly for the injured, but still breathing, bar tender. Xenophon indicated back to the table.
“We need to talk,” he said quietly.
They moved to their table and leaned in closely.
“We don’t want any unnecessary attention from these people. Do you have somewhere we could crash for tonight?”
Roxana nodded. She turned her head slightly, spotting movement in the shadows near to their table. A man moved and sat down next to her. She lifted her left hand as though expecting trouble, but the stranger raised his hands in a peaceful, almost conciliatory gesture.
“I’m not looking for trouble. You’re not from around here are you?” he asked.
“Who is?” answered Roxana.
Xenophon glanced at the man; he was definitely not from Attica or any of the nearby worlds. His build and overall physique was that of a strong man, quite probably a warrior or perhaps a labourer of some kind. It was more likely to be the latter. Most of the physical work in the Laconian territories was undertaken by the slaves, or as they liked to call them, indentured workers. There was a chance he could be a worker from one of the Alliance worlds, somewhere where the use of slaves was still banned.
His clothes were covered by a cloak-like robe and masking much of his torso. The man pulled his robe slightly to one side to reveal a metallic looking breastplate underneath.
“Another Laconian soldier,” muttered Xenophon.
“Hey, I’m looking for people with certain skills to sign up for this enterprise. I can see you can handle yourself in a fight. Nice work here. I take it you’ve heard about the operation?”
Roxana gave a subtle nod to Xenophon and Glaucon, and they both recognised the sign. Glaucon might not know her as well as Xenophon, but the body language was universal.
She wants us to keep quiet.
“Which one? We’re keeping our options open.”
The man scowled, unimpressed with their position on the subject.
“There’s only one job people are talking about, so what do you think everybody else is doing here?”
He pulled out a small device and placed it in the middle of the table. It was made from a dull black plastic and with a gently tap produced a detailed three-dimensional model of a starship. It wasn’t massive and looked civilian rather than the heavily armoured warships they had seen moored around the station.
“My ship is a scouting vessel. We’re looking for techs, engineers and software specialists to help crew her.”
“Why aren’t you recruiting like everybody else here?” asked Xenophon.
“Well, we run a special kind of ship. One where we don’t ask questions when we recruit or when we pay. You see, most of the captains that are taking on crew have to run them through the legal filters. If you are clear, you can join. If you can’t, well, you’re stuck here.”
Glaucon shook his head and pushed towards the man. He looked suspiciously at them and reached down, implying he was about to reach for a weapon.
“Look, friend, we’re not looking for trouble, and we’re not looking to sign up with freebooters.”
He looked at the three and then leaned back, putting his small projection device back inside his pocket. He lifted himself from his seat and took a step away before turning back.
“We have a room upstairs near the firing range. If you change your minds, come and find me, but don’t take too long. The recruitment fair will be over in less than three days, and then we move out. If you don’t find a ship, you won’t be coming, and everything here costs money. You don’t have work, so you’ll find yourself in somebody’s pocket, and fast.”
He nodded to them and slinked away into the darkness. No sooner had he left and Glaucon started talking excitedly.
“Less than three days? Are we staying here, or are we looking for work? What if he’s right? We could end up stuck in this place and with nothing to do. We used all our funds to get here. Something tells me we won’t be able to access any more money since the trouble back home.”
As he was talking, Roxana returned to the computer system and ran through the floor plan of the bar and recruitment part of the station. The larger agencies had permanent offices and rooms, but over half was reserved for part-time agencies or special events. She stopped and glanced at one section in particular, outlined in purple.
“This is interesting,” she said as she continued reading the screen.
“What is it?” asked Xenophon.
“Clearchus is here, and he is recruiting.”
“What?” demanded Glaucon in an almost angry tone.
“THE Clearchus? The Laconian General himself?” asked Xenophon. Roxana nodded at him, but said no more. Although the display was reversed, due to him looking at the back, he could make out the face of the old General, but the text was almost impossible to work out.
“That’s him. I’d know that face anywhere. He is one of the most famous Laconian soldiers we know of. If he’s here, it can only be for one of two reasons. Either he is recruiting for an operation of his own, or…”
“Or he is here for the same reason as the rest of us. He needs work,” added Roxana.
Xenophon nodded, “Exactly.”
“There is no way I am serving with a Laconian officer, especially one like him, forget it!” Glaucon snapped.
Roxana looked to Xenophon, lifting her eyebrows in a questioning expression. He didn’t need to explain as Glaucon continued his rant.
“You know that Clearchus and the troops aboard his Titan were responsible for the deaths of two of my brothers, don’t you? He might be a great hero to the Laconians, but he is a sworn enemy to my family. We lost almost an entire Alliance fleet to his forces, and a lot of good friends,” said Glaucon.
Clearchus. I’ve heard only the most experienced crew serve with him, but Glaucon will never go for it,
Xenophon thought.
Unless the rewards were too great to avoid, of course.
Xenophon turned to him.
“I know. I was there for the funeral. But that is for another day. Right now, all we can do is ensure we survive. We have to do something, and from what I’m seeing on the public broadcasts, somebody will be out looking for us. You saw those bounty hunters back on Attica. If the price is high enough, we could expect that in other places.”
“I’ve met him,” said Roxana, surprising both of them. Her announcement stopped them talking immediately. They both knew her reasonably well, but there was a time period they knew little of. It was mainly her military service that seemed to throw up all kind of odd anecdotes. Though Xenophon had served with her more recently, she had already spent time in the Navy. Even stranger were the contacts and experiences she had made since the surrender. Xenophon tried to imagine her as a mercenary or pirate, but it just didn’t seem to work in his head. He looked to her with a confused look.
“How is that possible?” he asked.
“Just after the surrender on Attica, he and a delegation of senior Laconian commanders surveyed the destruction of the rest of the Alliance Fleet. I was there when he arrived. A group of engineers were supposed to destroy the Valiant, and they were actually on board when he arrived. He stormed aboard and forced them out, even physically throwing one from the entrance when he refused.”
Xenophon took a sip from his drink and scratched at an itch on his eyelid.
“Why?”
“That is the interesting bit. He didn’t want to see the ship destroyed when it had performed so well in the battle. Trust me, you might have been out for the count, but she kept going. I’ve never seen a ship of the line take as much punishment and keep going.”
“The battle? You mean our last battle?”
”Exactly. It seems the Valiant has a bit of a reputation amongst the Laconians, probably not helped by the disdain they show for every other ship in the Armada. Actually, it was the only ship still fighting when the surrender order was given. Not that any of us knew that at the time.”
“I don’t remember. The last thing I saw was blackness.”
Glaucon sighed and made to leave them for the bar. Xenophon reached out for him.
“Hey, where are you going?”
“You two seem to be having a great time reminiscing about your glory days in the war. I’ll get a drink in the meantime.”
“Wait, why don’t we head down there now and see if they’re recruiting?”
“Are you mad? I doubt they’re recruiting, and if they are, why would they want us?” asked Glaucon.
Roxana stood up and shook her head, letting her hair flow more freely.
“Simple, we’re heroes from the Valiant. I bet I can get an audience with him. I tell him old stories, and you two put on your best charm.”
Glaucon shook his head.
“No way, I’m not serving under the man that saw my brothers killed. You two can go if you like, but I’d rather work with freebooters or people traffickers than with people like them.”