Soldiers of Fortune (19 page)

             
“So what do you think, Crusher?” Jason asked as he programmed the processor for what he wanted.

              “Seems easy enough,” he rumbled, sitting with a tray of his usual bland (although nutritious) fare. “Which means it will go to hell the minute we step foot on that ship, if we don’t get blasted on our initial approach.” Jason grabbed his tray and walked over to the table.

              “That’s what I love about you, Crusher: your eternal optimism.”

              “I do what I can, Captain,” he said with a short, barking laugh.

              “That you do…” Jason replied thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve been around warriors for most of my adult life, or at least people who considered themselves warriors, and I can’t recall a single one who behaved like you.”

              “In what way?”

              “A lot of them are uptight assholes,” Jason began. “Well, that’s maybe unfair to most of them... I guess what I’m trying to say is that when you’re not bashing in some poor bastard’s head, you’re one of the most polite people I’ve ever been around.” While he said it he realized, if taken wrong, how wildly offensive it sounded. Crusher looked over Jason’s head, chewing slowly.

              “On my world, there are thousands like me. The warrior caste of my people has been developed into what we feel is the perfect soldier, but that process wasn’t without its problems,” Crusher put down his food and looked to be willing to open up a bit. Jason sat stock still with rapt fascination as he began, Crusher rarely talked about his past, or his lineage. “The first few generations were physically impressive, and had the aggression and mindless courage to be good cannon fodder, but they were hardly a cohesive fighting force. Not only that, but they were a danger to the very population they were supposed to be protecting.

             
“The next phase was much more successful; even more improved physical prowess but with a sharper intellect and a capacity for empathy. As the warrior caste became more and more powerful, we developed our own culture and way of relating to each other as well as members of the other castes. At first I think it may have been driven by self-interest; our government would have forcibly exiled us had we posed much of a threat to the others.”

              “You talk about your kind like I would expect Lucky to describe his; versions and modifications and such,” Jason said.

              “In a way you’re right. It took much, much longer, but our scientists improved us by trial and error much like his designers. Anyway, when it got to the point that fights between us usually ended in at least one fatality, we began to adopt an almost formal way of relating to each other. It keeps the bloodshed to a minimum,” Crusher smiled slightly and continued eating. Jason also continued with his meal and thought about the hulking alien’s tale. He wasn’t sure if he should feel sympathetic or not; Crusher was made to be exactly how he was with no choice to be anything else despite the obvious mental capacity for so much more. But, then again… being raised from birth to be a soldier, and coming from a long, long line of soldiers, would he choose to be anything else?

             
“That’s why I like it so much here,” Crusher said again, startling Jason a bit. “Although I’m still a warrior, the choice is now mine as to what I fight for. But what about you? Were you not a warrior among your own people? Do you see yourself as a… uptight asshole, was it?” Jason spit out some water laughing at that last bit.

              “I was well trained, yes, and I was put in harm’s way more times than I can remember… but my role was primarily to save lives. I guess I never tried to figure out exactly where I fit in.”

              “You certainly have a warrior’s spirit, and you’re crazy enough to let it make decisions for you,” Crusher said with another rare smile. “I like that.” From him, there was no higher praise.

              “Thanks, I’ll take that the compliment I’m sure you intended it as,” Jason said as he stood up and placed his tray on the counter. “I’m hitting the rack for a few hours of sleep. Good talk.”

              “Sleep well, Captain.”

*              *              *              *              *

             
The
Phoenix
was pushing up through the thermosphere of Solic-2 exactly on schedule, thus entering a tacit agreement to perform the job they’d been tasked with. Jason still had no intention of unnecessarily risking anyone’s life, so if it looked impossible without major bloodshed, he would call it off no matter the consequences.

              “Everything’s green,” Kage said. “Slip-drive is primed and ready to jump on your command. Coordinates are already programmed in.” Jason looked down at one of his displays and saw the nav system had their pre-designated coordinates already plugged in. They were slightly different than the set that was provided by Dowarty and would allow them to jump in at a distance and reconnoiter the surrounding space before committing fully. They were relying on the
Phoenix's
speed in real space to get them in position when they needed to be there.

              “Looks good,” Jason replied. “Standby for jump.” He hit the flashing green button on his lower right console and felt his ship build power and mesh smoothly out of the Solic System. “Stay sharp everyone. This is a short jump, we’ll be meshing in soon and from there we go dark. I’ll be in the armory getting ready.” He stood up and nodded to Doc as he walked off the bridge. He snuck through engineering as quietly as possible, smacking Twingo in the back of the head as the engineer was bent over inspecting something. He shuffled out of the area, laughing, as the short alien blistered the air with implausible threats to his anatomy.
He must be in a good mood, he didn’t throw anything that time.

             
As they always were directly before an operation, Crusher and Lucky were already in the armory getting ready and discussing the pros and cons of different types of weapons. Jason greeted them both and then went to his own full-length wall locker and opened it up. Inside, hanging on a rack, was the improved armor he had designed and built with the help of his crew. His original protective gear had been designed by Deetz, the treacherous synth that had wanted to sell Jason into bondage when they had first met. It had been serviceable, but the more he learned about what worked and didn’t he began to make improvements on his own. This armor, while still lightweight and providing excellent range of motion, had more coverage and had powered shields. The energy shields only covered the hard plates of the armor, and weren’t especially powerful, but they did nicely when deflecting energy weapon fire.

             
Crusher wore a similar setup, but only a chest protector; no pauldrons or arm guards. For some reason the enormous alien had a huge aversion to sleeves or gloves. Jason knew there was a good joke in there somewhere, but his own fierce self-preservation instinct kept him from saying it aloud. Even a good-natured, glancing hit from the warrior was enough to cause serious damage.

             
Lucky, of course, was ready for combat at all times. He was just there for the company. Jason put on his base layer pressure suit, the black, active over suit, and finally his armor, sans helmet. When he looked up he saw that Crusher was regarding him with a raised eyebrow. “You know, Captain, we could maybe have Twingo build you a miniature tank to roll around in during ground ops.”

              “Kiss. My. Ass,” Jason said as he finished his preparations. “The first time you take a shot to the arm I don’t want to hear any crying--”

              “Crying?”

              “--about how much it hurts. I don’t have millennia of selective breeding and genetic manipulation to make me invincible. It’s actually the exact opposite; evolution has been a cruel mistress when it comes to humans and our natural weapons. My body isn't up to the punishment.”

              “I think your body is fine, Captain,” Lucky spoke up helpfully. Both Crusher and Jason just looked at him for a long, uncomfortable moment and then turned quickly back to sorting gear. “What?”

              “I’ll be on the bridge,” Jason said as he headed for the door. “It’ll only be a couple more hours before it’s show time.”

             
Once back on the bridge, he had little to do to occupy his mind but watch the timer count down to zero. But, he was the Captain, so he would set a good example by staying at his post and not roaming about the ship because he was bored. Kage was busy setting up his scripts and intrusion routines he would use to bypass their target’s security and Doc was scouring through research documents he had downloaded on Solic-2 regarding the item they were supposed to steal. So Jason sat quietly and mentally prepared himself for the upcoming op and let the drone of the
Phoenix's
engines relax him.

              The
Phoenix
meshed into the Careechi System just inside of the heliopause, well short of their suggested jump point. She ghosted into the system, going dark immediately and listening intently with her passive sensor array to anything that might be out there. Jason had no doubt that his client, or clients, really wanted the item they had been commissioned to steal, but he also didn’t trust them any further than he could throw Crusher, which was not at all. The star system was along the outer boundary of the nebula the Concordian Cluster was nestled against. The surrounding space was full of both incredibly beautiful views and deadly traps of radiation and gravitational anomalies. The effects of these unpredictable conditions had created a unique wonder among the planets in the Careechi System, which was void of habitable worlds. Of the four gas giants orbiting the primary star, two had orbits that would occasionally bring them quite close to each other (close being a relative term when dealing with planets the size of protostars). The result was the smaller of the two passing behind the larger and having its atmosphere interact with the charged particles trailing its bigger sibling. The visual effect of this interaction was breathtakingly beautiful, and a much sought after vista.

             
Their target, a large, luxurious, slip-capable yacht, would be arriving to enjoy the view within the next four hours if their intel was to be believed. She was the pride and joy of a wealthy shipping magnate, although Doc’s research had turned up some unscrupulous dealings he had initiated that led to his vast fortune. It was thin, but Jason needed to cling to something so he could tell himself he wasn’t actually robbing an innocent person. While the yacht was fast and graceful, it was built for looks more than defense. This was something Omega Force hoped to exploit.

              The yacht arrived almost a full hour after it was scheduled to, but it was there. More importantly, it was alone. The intel they had been given indicated that it would be since Careechi was an utterly useless system for anything other than the view and the mark foolishly felt extra security would be unnecessary. He was known to bring lady friends out to Careechi-3 for dinner and drinks when the orbits would properly intersect, and his mate was out of the area on business.
Powerful men are the same the galaxy over. Wonder what sort of prenup you’d need when you owned a private star fleet.

             
Jason guided the
Phoenix
to intercept the yacht’s course well behind it; he would mask his approach by hiding in the gravity vortex of the other ship’s engines and employing their own countermeasures. They were several thousand kilometers behind the ship, which appeared as a slightly brighter dot against the stars, when he throttled up ever so gently and began to slowly close on it. He would get close enough to hide in the small sensor blind spot created where the engine fields overlapped, and then he would pace the yacht around Careechi-3 until the party on board had run its course and night hours started. He hoped the booze was flowing; passed out passengers wouldn’t notice an armed boarding party rifling through their prized possessions.

              “We’re on,” Jason said, interrupting the tense silence on the bridge. “They should all be asleep by now. Kage, mask our approach as best you can until you can get into the computer and shut the external sensors down.”

              “Copy,” Kage replied nervously. Jason didn’t think anything of it; the jittery little Veran was always a bundle of nerves during a mission and he always came through. He pushed the throttle up smoothly and quickly closed the remaining gap between them and the yacht. When they were within visual range, he rolled the ship over a full one-eighty and synced his optical implants to the external sensors so he could see through the hull. He slowed to match speed with the other ship and began gradually closing the interval until they were underneath and inverted in relation to the yacht’s orientation. He let the computer guide him as he lined their ventral hatch up with an auxiliary airlock on the other ship’s belly.

              “Extend the cofferdam,” Jason ordered. “As soon as you have connectivity you’re clear to start. If we have to boogey, call it out.”

              “Gangway extending,” Kage said absently. “Contact. Beginning entry…” A glazed look came over the Veran’s face as he tied his neural implants into the
Phoenix
and attempted to override the security measures on the yacht’s airlock. The DL7 gunship had an extendable, pressurized apparatus that could be deployed from the drop-hatch in the cargo bay and allowed them to mate up to almost any size airlock. Most standard airlocks had an inductive, low bandwidth connection that allowed for minimal data transfer without needing a hard connection, Kage planned to use this to gain access to the ship’s main computer and shut down the security subsystems as well as open the airlock. They’d done it before, and it was much preferable to blowing the hatch with explosives for a variety of reasons, the fact that massive, hull-breaching explosions tended to alert the crew not among the least of them.