He Who Dares: Book Three (13 page)

BOOK: He Who Dares: Book Three
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Mike pulled his ear. It was a good plan, and he had an ace up his sleeve in the nature of a Free Trader identity under his family name of Tregallion. So far, very few people knew of any connection between Gray and Tregallion. That would get him by any customs and immigration officials. If he was careful, it should get him off Earth as well once he’d completed his mission and needed to return to the ship. Once he reached the Free Traders Guild Hall, he could virtually disappear and have access to all the funds he needed. Neither, Pete nor Jan realized just how rich he was, or he should say, his family was.

“Pete, set course for Mars, and whistle up Sergeant Rice to get the shuttle ready. I’m off to pack.”

“Aye, sir. Setting course for Mars and calling Sergeant Rice.” Pete answered.

“Take her in slow and easy, Pete. Stop if you see anything you don’t like.”

“Aye, slow and easy as she goes.”

Mike made his way down to his quarters, thinking of a dozen things he needed to do before he left. Updating and downloading his ship's log was the least of them.

“Jenks! How would you like a nice holiday?” Jenks stuck his head out of his bedroom.

“What?”

“We need to pack.”

“Alright, now drop the other shoe.”

Mike gave him a wounded look, “What do you mean the other shoe? Would I kid you?”

“Har! The last time you said that, we ended up on bloody Borland, and look how that turned out. Holiday, my ass. Where are we going?”

“Home, my old son. You do want to check on the till, don’t you?”

“Till… You mean London?” He said with a grin. “Yeah, I need to check on that sticky fingered Welshman. He’s probably robbing me blind, drinking all the profits, and sleeping with my wife.”

“Jenks,” Mike looked over his shoulder, “you don’t have a wife, remember?”

“Oh yeah. Forgot about that. Still and all, I do need to check up on the bloody Welsh twit. No telling what sort of trouble he’s got himself into.”

“That’s right, so pack light. We won’t need much.” An hour later, they were ready and about to head aft to the flight deck when his comm pinged.

“What’s up, Pete?”

“Not sure if this might be of interest to you, Skipper. I’ve come to a stop, as we have just spotted a ship you might be interested in.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What is it?”

“A Free Trader ship just came up on our sensors. She’s dropping down the gravity well, on the usual commercial, clockwise spiral for a zero/zero orbit with Earth.”

“How far out is she?” Mike asked as he made his way to the bridge.

“We estimate she’s three days from the north WP, and four days out from Earth orbit.”

“Humm, that puts her right in the middle of nowhere.”

“Captain on the bridge.” The Marine guard sang out as Mike entered.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Number One?”

“I think so, sir. You do have a history with the Free Traders, and if you can get aboard you’d have a perfect means to get to Earth in the minimum amount of time.”

“That would depend on who’s driving the bus over there.” Pete gave him a funny look, and Mike smiled, “It’s a question of if they’ve picked up the pilot vessel.”

“Oh… right, customs inspector and the system pilot.” He murmured, looking at Jan. She shrugged.

“We are too far out to be able to tell if there’s a second ship there,” she answered the unspoken question.

“Let’s go closer under cloak and have a look. Helm, best possible speed without leaving a drive trail a blind man can follow.”

“Aye aye, sir. Best possible speed it is.”

“And if the pilot vessel is there?” Pete asked.

“Then I’ll have to find a way to sneak aboard without them knowing. Comm, let me know when we are in range for a conversation without the time lag getting in the way.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Pete, inform Sergeant Rice that I’ll be switching to the Marine scout car.” Mike didn’t bother taking over the captain’s chair, and motioned Pete to stay where he was. Instead, he stood off to one side, out of the way, much as Pete did when he was sitting in the seat.

“With its low radar signature, the scout car should be able to get close without being spotted, but sooner or later someone on the bridge is going to pick her up, Skipper.”

“Not if the sensor operator doesn’t report it.”

“We are within the Free Traders sensor envelope, but so far she hasn’t reacted, Skipper. I have the ident code now. She’s the Free Trader,
Orion Dawn
.”

“Good, Conn?”

“Time lag at this distance is about two seconds, Skipper.”

“Helm, hold her here while I chat with her. Comm, tight beam a transmission with this code. Alpha-003-001-T3 and nothing else.” For anyone not from Avalon, the code might be taken for anything, when in reality it identified the sender as Mike Tregallion. Alpha 3 simply meant he was the third Tregallion after Max and Gordon. The last set was just a confirmation.

“Aye, sir – transmitting ident code Alpha-003-001-T3.” Other than the faint background sounds, the bridge was completely silent as they waited for the reply. Time seemed to stretch, but it couldn’t have been more than two minutes before the comm unit chirped.

“They are asking for confirmation, Skipper.” Clarence Reilly looked around.

“Resend and add
Prometheus
at the end.” That brought an almost immediate response with a radio frequency number.

“Put it on the main screen, Clarence.”

The main screen filled with static for a moment, then cleared to show a bearded face with a deep scowl on his face looking back them. The moment he spotted Mike, the scowl vanished, replaced a moment later with a broad smile.

“I see you got another ship, Mike,” he looked sad for a moment, “and I’m sorry to hear about what happened to the
Prometheus.
Your grandfather was a good man. I’m going to miss him.”

“Nice to see you again, Captain MacManus, and thank you for your condolences.”

“By the looks of it, you found yourself a good berth there.” He replied, looking around the bridge.

“I did. I’m in the Royal Navy now.”

“Well, when you’ve finished mucking around with the Navy, you can come and join a real deep-space fleet.” He laughed. It wasn’t far from the truth. Other than the Voss, the Free Traders had gone further out into the black than any other human ship.

“Oh, I think I’ll hang my hat here for a while. You never know when things will get a little exciting around here.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. Had a run in with those Sirrien bastards out near Bernard’s Star. A few shots with our heavy guns soon had them looking for easier prey to pick on,” Captain MacManus pulled his brow into a frown for a moment, “You know you will have to go toe to toe with them shortly, don’t you, Mike?”

“Yes, sir. All the signs are there. It’s just a question of how soon they can get their courage up to do it.”

“Well, they are out there laying the groundwork now. We have reports from other ships that they are squeezing both the CS and the US navies, and I don’t know how long they will last once the shooting starts.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse, unless I miss my guess. But that aside. What can I do for you?”

“I need a ride to Earth, Captain.”

Captain MacManus looked at him a moment, “I won’t ask why, as you probably can’t tell me, but I take it you don’t want certain people on board knowing you are here, right?”

“Right.”

“Mike, you know we are under orders not to get involved in system politics. If we jump into a system under fire, no matter who’s firing, we are to turn around and jump right back out again.”

“I understand that, Captain, and wouldn’t want you to disobey those orders…”

MacManus held his hand up, “Meaning no disrespect to your grandfather, or Avalon security for that matter, but since when did Free Traders ever obey anything the government of Avalon ordered?” He laughed, “A polite request yes, but an order? Kiss my ass.” He was right. Free Trader ships were gone for so long, that by the time they returned home to Avalon whatever prompted the orders in the first place had long since vanished.

“I was thinking that if we came over the stern, your sensor operator might not even see a small Marine scout ship.” Captain MacManus looked pensive for a moment before nodding.

“That’s true, he might just be off getting a cup of coffee, out going to the head, and just happened to switch off the rear sensors.”

“Yes, that could just happen. Very lax discipline on Free Trader ships,” Mike smiled saying that. In some ways, discipline on the Free Trader ship was stricter than naval vessels. It had to be considering the time they spent in warp space.

“Of course. Now that we are in-system, the landing bay doors are open so the pilot shuttle can come board, and you’ll probably find that the operations officer forgot to shut the bay doors again.”

“What a coincidence. And, if the pilot of the shuttle were otherwise occupied, no one would even know we’d landed.”

“Too true. However, you are out of sensor range at the moment, so I can’t tell how soon you’d need me to set this all up.”

“Sooner than you might expect, Captain.” MacManus raised one eyebrow in query, but said nothing. “I’ll ping you in a couple of hours, sir.”

“I’ll have a cabin waiting for you so you can stay out of sight until we reach orbit.”

“These Free Traders are an accommodating lot, Skipper.”

“That they are, just don’t get on their bad side,” Mike took one last look around the bridge as he spoke, “I’ll leave her in your capable hands, Pete. The only orders I can give you are to stay out of sight and listen for my signal.”

“Ten-four, Mike. What should I tell the crew?” It was a point Mike pondered for a moment.

“Tell them I’m sorry they couldn’t get shore leave to go home this time. I will however pay all the expenses for the shore leave at our next port of call.”

“That should make them happy.”

“Try not to put any dents in her while I’m away this time, Pete.”

“Dents… wait… it wasn’t me… I wasn’t there, and I plead insanity.” Mike chucked and squeezed his shoulder before departing.

“Captain off the bridge.” The Marine guard sang out. “Wish I was going with you, Skipper. The word is that things are getting a little hairy back home.”

“I’m not going into a war zone, Kowalski.” Mike had to smile. He hadn’t placed any restrictions on the comm techs not to broadcast the news stream from Earth, and even if it was two days old, it did give the crew some idea of what was going on back home.

“Heard that one before, Skipper.”

Mike gently punched Kowalski in the arm, “I am taking Jenks with me.”

“Good Marine there.” He smiled and came to attention.

As he worked his way down to the flight deck, the crewmembers he met along the way, shook hands or waved goodbye as he passed. It gave him a warm feeling to know his crew genuinely liked and respected him, but it still puzzled him to know why. Two decks down, he entered flight operations and found Jenks had already packed their small bags in the cargo bay of the scout car. The pilot nodded as he and Jenks climbed aboard, but kept his main attention on his pre-flight checklist. He finished up by the time he and Jenks were buckled in and settling their oxygen masks in place.

“Marine Scout 003 to Flight Ops.”

“Flight Ops – Go Scout 003”

“Ready for departure.”

“The launch rail is clear and ready for your departure.”

“Ready, Skipper?” The Pilot asked.

“Ready when you are.” As he spoke, the flashing red and blue warning light came on along the length of the launch tube as the pilot rolled forward to connecting with the launch rail. They felt the small scout ship bump slightly as it connected.

“Ready to launch.” Even under the hearing protection of the headset, the high-pitched whine of the AG generator could still be heard. The pilot took his hands off the stick as the auto-launch system took over.

“5 – 4 – 3 – 2 – 1.” Even with the inertial dampening systems on full, the takeoff still pushed them back into their seats. The tube became a blur for a few seconds until they shot out into the black. The scout automatically banked to starboard the moment it exited the launch tube under the number one gun turret and the pilot took control again.

“Bloody hotshot.” Jenks muttered, and Mike smiled. They really didn’t need to take off like a Starfighter, but most non-fighter pilots had a secret fantasy of flying one. Mike thought back to Jimmy Bettencourt and the way he liked to take his courier ship out into the black.

Mike tapped the second seat control panel and brought up the rear view for one last look at his ship, not that there was much to see even at this short distance. With her black hull, she quickly disappeared against the black, star-studded background. The only way he could tell she was there was by the empty hole she made where no stars shone. Even that quickly vanished as the pilot put the throttle to the metal.

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