Black Dawn (2 page)

Even though Coy had read through the schematics, the ship
was a surprise to it as well as the engineers. It was like nothing in any
of their varied military experiences. It was a luxury liner such as they
had never seen. Sleek and black. The fins on either side of the ship,
used to transmit the beam that opened the portals to jump through
space, swept up like elegant wings. Yet for all that, it was heavily
armed and armored.

Lamont stood looking out of the station viewport at the ship in
amazement. “Nevermore,” it breathed to itself.
“Commodore?” Bon asked.
“It’s Captain,” it corrected, again, “and it’s just a line from an
old prejump Earth poem about a black bird.”
And a grief stricken man
searching for answers.
“Well it is that, sir. Very black.”
Unfortunately, parts of the interior were much as Coy
had
imagined from its assessment of the card player’s character. This was no
cruise line. The passengers on this ship had apparently cared only for
gambling and entertainment - in all their most twisted and exotic
forms.
The main rooms and corridors were pleasantly and artistically
decorated with real wood trim, dramatic lighting and expensive looking artwork. The “guest” rooms however were a different story. Palo
and Luka examined the furniture and equipment with fascination. Artwork depicting perversions of every kind lined the walls. Coy merely
stood, pale and serious, struck with the knowledge of what losing that
card game would’ve meant.
“Orders, Commodore?” Bon seemed to think the title was a
nickname rather than a rank.
Coy was too distracted and vaguely nauseated to correct him
this time. “Rip it all out. Melt it down and shove it out the airlock.”
The engineer nodded understanding. “Aye aye, sir”. Then,
“Kinda good you had the hand you did, eh?” he added quietly, and
walked away to begin carrying out his first orders.
Between the pilot, Hoffman’s knowledge of the ship, Coy’s
schematics and Bon’s “know-how”, it didn’t take as long as they had
feared to learn the systems of the ship (which Coy had christened the
Raven
). By skipping such mundane interruptions as eating and sleeping, they were able to check out most of the essentials before preparing
to leave the station.

Although, in truth, Eric Hoffman spent most of his time on the
bridge, sitting in his pilot’s chair, barricading himself from Lamont
and Bon with a wall of resentment. He answered direct questions and
little else. He had probably worked very hard for what he considered a
prestigious position. He would not get the perks or tips with a mercenary group that he would’ve in his former employers crowd, and he
was angry and bitter at the loss. Coy could sympathize with life’s
plans getting blown to pieces and left him to himself as much as possible.

About the middle of the second day, Lamont was wandering
through an amazing length of corridor, peering into cabins that were
nothing less than luxury suites. According to the floor plans the computer had willingly presented to them, the Raven was equipped with
everything from tactical room to ballrooms. Thoughts of using the
latter filled Lamont with amusement. Thoughts of using the former
filled it with terror.

Among the more surprising items was when it went into one of
rooms across from the officer’s gym and discovered the swimming
pool! A large sphere, the bottom half of which was set into the deck,
contained real honest to goodness H2O. The spherical shape led one to
imagine being in a scientific experimental container or perhaps an
aquatic animal kept as a pet. But the shape had little or nothing to do
with aesthetics and everything to do with containing all of that liquid
in the event of the artificial gravity being disrupted.

Small amounts escaping, say one’s teacup, during moments
like that was amusing at best, messy at worst. Especially if you missed
some of the floating brown blobs with the hand vacuum and ran into
them. Aubry hadn’t seen the humor. Coy smiled in memory of his impeccable uniform covered in…abruptly Coy remembered the last time
it had seen Aubry himself and the smile evaporated. It turned and left
the gym and continued its investigation.

It stopped in front of the captain/owner’s quarters. It hadn’t
felt like picking quarters yet. What sleep it had gotten was a couple of
hours on a cot in Sick Bay. But it couldn’t do that forever. It opened
the door and went in. Dim lights came on automatically.

Coy froze in surprise. This was not a cabin. This was an
apartment. It was, in fact, larger than some planet side homes it had
seen.

To its left was a generously- sized food prep area, with two
doors leading off. One door led to a sleeping room with a bed the size
of most ship’s quarters! The other led to an adjoining office. Straight
ahead from the main entrance was a huge ornate desk with a view port
at its back. To the right and down one step was living space. Three
couches and a couple of chairs in a semi circle around a cocktail table,
lots of shelves filled at the moment with more perverse artwork, and a
long dining/conference table.

Coy thought of its cabin on its last command. A tiny rectangle
barely large enough for bunk, desk and wardrobe. It gave a loud sigh.
It did not deserve this. It wasn’t right. People like Aubry deserved to
live like this. Heroic people. But Aubry would never see anything he
deserved.

Coy suddenly felt overwhelmed. The depression it had been
fighting for so long seemed to be winning the battle. It closed its eyes
and tried to take a calming breath. It came out ragged. It tried to think
of something, to focus on something, but every thought that came led
to some mistake it had made. Something it had done wrong.

Going against the Admiral’s orders had been stupid. Not telling Aubry had been stupid. Letting him stand there had been stupid.
Betting itself in a card game had been stupid. One card different and
its life would have been forfeit. The
ifonly’s
and
whatif’s
became
consuming. It looked around the room again and couldn’t care about
owning the most magnificent ship in known space. It couldn’t care
about anything. All Coy knew was that it was tired. And it hurt. And it
was tired of hurting.

Just then Bon interrupted with excited summons to the shuttle
bay. Coy straightened up with an effort, put on a commanding officer
face and went to join him. The lights lowered once more as the door
shut behind it.

Coy stood in the cavernous bay and looked over the three ships
parked there, but didn’t see Bon. Shuttles, they were designated in the
files, although one was sleek and very large, even by combat drop
shuttle standards. The hatch on the large one opened and Bon appeared. A very enthusiastic Bon appeared.

“You
have
to see this,” he grinned. Inside he showed Lamont
eight cabins, a Sick Bay cubicle, and what appeared to be a passenger
lounge.
“A yacht,” Coy guessed.
“Quite a yacht,” Bon was still grinning. “This thing apparently

has jump capabilities. Plus the shielding and weapons would match
military specs on half a dozen worlds. I don’t even want to try to estimate the cost.”

“I doubt if money was an issue,” Coy said. “They un
doubtedly ferried high paying … customers… in this.”
Bon nodded at the walls, indicating the shielding. “High paying and paranoid.”
“Perhaps with reason.”
Bon’s enthusiasm subsided a little. “You know, no one out
there is gonna know there are new people in here. Suppose we bump
into some of those reasons?”
They looked at each other, possibilities blooming in their
minds, but said nothing more on the subject. Silently they investigated
the other two ships. Except for extra shielding, they appeared to be
more typical passenger shuttles. One of the few typical anything on
board. Bon’s mood bubbled up again every time they found more
“goodies”.
Coy remained
subdued, however, as they finished up their tour. Bon noticed and
wondered about his new commander’s dark moods, but drew the line at
asking any personal questions…yet.
Ship’s stores was the final eye opening experience. Enough
standard, processed food for a thousand guests (the hydroponics bay
they had found did not look like it had ever been used), manufacturing
computers designed to create fashions to suit any taste, quite an interesting array of personal weapons and armor and the most elaborate set
of wrist coms any of them had ever seen. Those, they put to use right
away. Once someone located an operating manual.
Coy took a little time out to fiddle with the clothing computer
to come up with a proper ship’s uniform. Something serious and practical, yet fitting in with the elegant lines of the ship. It modeled its efforts for Bon at the first opportunity.
Bon tried not to stare outright at his commanding officer. Coy
had taken the time to tie its hair back in a small tight tail at the nape of
its neck which enhanced its appearance as much as replacing the baggy
cast offs it had worn had. But surely it was the uniform that he found
so appealing. After all he had been raised in a military society. It was
perfectly logical that he would like someone in uniform. That is, a uniform on someone.
“Black,” was his only external comment.
“Seems fitting,” Coy told him, unaware of the engineer’s discomfort. “Black ship, black uniforms....”
“Black moods,” Bon braved, but Coy didn’t comment.
“You’re right. It fits.” He took the pants and jacket Lamont offered
him. “So we have uniforms. And a whole shuttle bay full of ships
down there. And what are you going to do with this little black fleet of
yours?”
Lamont shook its head. For one to plan for the future, one had
to
care
about the future. And the moments it cared were few and far
between. “I don’t even know yet.”
“We’ve got a lot of potential here, Skipper.”
Coy gave a skeptical ‘humph’. “To do what?”
Bon gazed around the room they were in. “Suppose this has a
point to it. A reason it all came together.”
Coy stared at him for a moment. “You really believe that?”
Haradans were not known for any belief in events supernatural. But after a moment, Bon gave a sigh. “It would be kind of comforting to think I’m alive for some reason. After we got cashiered
out....” he shook his head. “I don’t know, Commodore. I really don’t.”
Coy looked thoughtful. “Maybe you can stick around and help
me figure it out.”
“Well, like you said, I’ve had no better offers.”
Before Coy could respond to that, they were interrupted by its
wrist com. “Luka to Lamont.”
“Lamont. Go ahead.”
“Captain, there are some people here at the docking tube that
want to see you,” he reported.
Coy frowned at the device. “Some people?” Great. Right when
they were finally ready to pull out. They shouldn’t have delayed.
They should have learned the ship after they were space borne. But
that hadn’t seemed safe either. Too late now anyway.
“They want jobs.” Luka added.
Bon’s brows rose in hope. “Terrific!”
Coy, as usual, did not look nearly as excited. “All right,
have...” it paused and thought. “Have Hoffman escort them to the
briefing room.”
“Oh. Ah, okay.”
“Is there a problem?” Coy asked at his hesitant tone.
“Well, could
you
tell Hoffman, sir?”
Coy gave a hint of a sigh. “Yes, I’ll tell him. But I suggest you
at least attempt to work together.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you , sir. Luka out.” The com cut off.
Bon shrugged. “Sorry, sir. But you can hardly blame him.
Hoffman hates us all. I find it a bit unnerving to know our lives are in
his hands once we’re in space.”
“He’s a pilot. He won’t harm his ship just to get to us,” Coy
assured him. “But off the record, I sympathize with his attitude. He’s
understandably upset this is suddenly a mercenary ship. It’s hardly
what he signed on for.”
“Considering his former boss, it’s got to be a giant step
up
,
mercenary or not,” Bon persisted.
Coy waved him off and called up to the bridge.
“Hoffman. Go ahead,” came a sullen voice.
“There are some new recruits at the docking bay. Escort them
to the starboard briefing room.”
“To the what?”
“The starboard lounge on deck B is now a briefing room. I explained that this morning.”
“Yes,
Captain
.”
Lamont and Bon looked at each other again.
“I think I’ll cross my fingers every time we make a jump,”
Bon mumbled.
Coy let it go and went to meet the recruits. Happy or not about
being an escort, Hoffman delivered five people to the correct location
and after a stern look from his new employer even waited in the corridor. Coy let them stand alone in the huge room for a moment before
going in. It
would have preferred to have a guard at its back when entering, for
protocol as well as safety sake, but everyone was busy except Hoffman. And it didn’t think having to battle for the man’s co-operation
would present the image it wanted.
Even alone, Coy had their attention. It returned their skeptical
gazes and looked them over judiciously, eyeing the empty holster on
one--an older man, dark, wiry and intelligent looking.
He caught the look and explained, “Your man did a fairly
competent weapons search.”
Coy raised a brow at the man’s tone. Critiquing, rather than
complaining.
“I understand you want a job,” it spoke to them all. “Why?”
A laugh came from one. “Why do people usually want a job?
To work maybe? To eat?” He eyed Coy disgustedly. “Look, be a good
herm and go get the captain.”
Coy was momentarily caught off guard at its sudden annoyance, bordering on anger, at the man’s words. It had heard worse insults its whole life, both to its face and behind its back. What made
this time different? “Actually, I am the Captain. Are there any other
opinions?”
Another was impatient. “So what’s the drill? I’ve worked for a
dozen merc outfits. They’ve always been happy enough to have a
warm body in the suit.”
Lamont ignored that one completely and spoke directly to the
man with the empty holster. “And you?”
He came to a casual attention. “I’m a soldier.”
One thing Coy Lamont had been made to do was make quick
evaluations of people and circumstances. There was something about
this man that felt right. But Coy found it hard to trust its own judgment after....
“So why aren’t you a soldier at home?” it stalled.
“They don’t have soldiers at home.”
“Oh, what do they have?”
His body tensed and his eyes hardened. “Mines. Lots of filthy
mines.”
Something clicked. That connection Coy couldn’t even have
named. But it knew.
“What is your name?
“Schiff. Walter Schiff.”
“Mr. Schiff, welcome to the
Raven
.” Coy turned to the remaining two. One of which was a timid appearing young woman. “Why do
you want to be part of my crew?” it asked her
She looked around slightly panic stricken, as if caught in a pop
quiz. Finally she sighed and admitted, “To be honest, I need off this
station. I need to be, I don’t know. Doing something. And I’m medically.
trained. I could help your Med Tech...” She started to wring her hands,
stopped herself, took a breath and looked Lamont in the eye. “I would
do my best.”
“Your name?”
“Ah...” she paused, beginning to panic again.
“What you wish to be called will do fine.”
“Oh. Okay.” Relieved, she thought only a moment. “Ceal
Byars.”
“And..?” Coy asked the last candidate, but the man appeared
only marginally sober and simply shrugged. “Very well. Mr. Schiff,
Miss Byars, please stay. The rest of you--thank you for your time.”
After closing their gaping mouths, the three muttered some
expletives and shuffled out to be escorted off board. By their attitude,
they could have caused some damage on the way out, except that
Hoffman was armed and they were not.
After they were gone, Coy spoke to Schiff. “You are a soldier.
Combat experience?” A nod in answer. “Good. You’re our only one so
far. I guess that makes you in charge” It looked him up and down
again, studying his body language. Authoritative, but… “Is Sergeant
all right for now?”
Schiff blinked. “Ah, yes, sir.”
“And Byars, about helping the Med Tech...as of now, you are
our Med Tech. Congratulations.” It nodded understanding and a little
sympathy at their expressions. “My name is Captain Coy Lamont.
This is my ship. I’ve owned it about two days. Counting you two, we
now have seven people to run it. Still interested?”
The two prospective mercenaries stared. Schiff composed
himself quickly. “What’s first, Captain?”
Coy relaxed, knowing it had been right about these people.
“First? You can pick your quarters. There’s plenty to choose from. I
can show you the gym and the armory. Byars, I’ll show you to Sick
Bay. Everything here is pretty much top of the line so I don’t expect
anyone to be an expert yet. Poke around. Learn the ship. I’ll get uniforms and contracts issued as soon as possible. Any questions?”
Byars was looking at the floor. Schiff was still more or less at
attention.
“Then follow me for the quick tour. We’ll stop off at Ships
Stores and get you a wrist com and measured for uniforms.”
As they walked, Byars gathered her nerve. “Captain, who exactly do we work for? I mean do we have a name or anything?”
Coy thought of Bon’s comments earlier. “The BlackFleet.”
“Fleet.” Schiff repeated dryly. “Seven people. Interesting size
for a fleet.”
“Well,” Coy said just as dryly, “I might hire a few more. If I
find the right people.”
They both accepted the implied compliment and followed their
captain through the empty corridors.