Black Dawn (39 page)

Coy walked the remaining steps to the door, using its suit
scanners to find out as much as possible about what it was walking
into. Dyvees seemed to be sitting directly in the middle of the shack,
facing the front. What was even stranger; it didn’t read a stunner or
any other weapon on its opponent. No explosives rigged anywhere in
the small building.

Coy stood to one side and pushed the door open. Nothing. It
dropped to a prone position before the doorway, weapon drawn. But
Dyvees was just sitting there.

The Commodore might have felt foolish, except for all of
things this man had done. There was no such thing as being too cautious, here. It stood and walked into the small room. There were tools
of various kinds strewn here and there all over the small shack. But
the man continued to sit there, in his own space suit, just staring. Although it was hard to tell through the suit, he seemed small and unimpressive.
“Lamont,” he said at last. His voice seemed devoid of all emotion. “We finally meet.”

Coy took a step toward him, then stopped. The shed was dark,
but something else was making Coy feel uneasy. It used the infrared
optics in the faceplate of its helmet to look more closely at its surroundings. Not all of the tools in this shack were randomly strewn
about. It noticed the muzzles of three power borers, expertly hidden,
pointing at the spot where it’s next step would take it…

Coy swung the barrel of its gun up, blasting the hidden tools in
three short bursts. But in that brief second, it had taken its eyes off of
Dyvees.

The man launched himself at Coy, hitting with enough force in
the low gravity to slam them hard against one of the shelving units on
one wall. At the moment of impact, Dyvees swung wildly and frantically, knocking the blaster out of Coy’s grip. Coy scrambled to get leverage enough to push him away, and that was when he brought the
knife he’d been hiding slashing in toward Coy’s stomach.

Coy blocked the stroke with one hand, and disarmed him with
a hard strike from the other. It finally got some leverage, and shoved
hard against the shelving, pushing Dyvees away. Coy had taken only
two steps and he was back, clawing and swinging like an animal. It
was Coy’s cool hatred against Dyvees’ hot fury.

The conditions were cramped, its opponent was not taking
orderly, measured strikes… this was nothing like it’s training sessions
with Schiff. But it had learned something in all the hours of practice.
It stifled it’s rage for a moment and waited for an opening in Dyvees’
wild attack. When it came, Coy put all of its strength into a punch to
the chest, knowing the strike would be blunted by the chestplate on his
spacesuit.

Dyvees staggered backward, the wind knocked out of him.
Coy swept his legs out from under him, and the second he went down,
it was lunging toward the fallen blaster. It touched the handle but was
tackled hard from behind. How did such a scrawny little man move so
fast?

Lamont was knocked prone onto the floor, and the gun went
sliding underneath some shelves. Dyvees gripped the sides of Coy’s
head, scrambling frantically for the latches on its helmet. It had only a
second or two before exposure.

This time the low gravity worked in its favor. Coy shoved
hard against the floor, sending its opponent careening into the ceiling.
He bounced off, but Coy was ready for his uncontrolled approach. It
got just enough room and met him with a brutal front kick. He
smashed again into a huge pile of tools, but Coy wasn’t waiting to see
how he freed himself.

Dyvees screamed and tossed tools about in anger. He took a
step and tripped over some of them. He rolled over, and stopped cold
as he stared up into the waiting muzzle of Coy’s blaster.

Coy stood, breathing hard, holding the Boogeyman’s
imminent
death in its hand. The seconds ticked slowly by as they remained
seemingly frozen in position. Scenes flashed through Coy’s thoughts.
A stately vessel being swarmed by small fighters desperate to avoid a
war; Taylor’s bruised and beaten face; watching the intruders come
aboard the
Raven;
stone and debris raining down on Pierce and
Sweggert; a heroic
Talon
bursting into pieces.

“
What,” Dyvees panted, “the great Commodore Lamont hasn’t
the stomach to pull the trigger face to face?”
“On the contrary, I was standing here thinking of all the perfectly good reasons to pull it,” Coy spoke with deadly calm as opposed
to Dyvees mocking tone. “But I also realized I am being selfish. There
are about twenty-five planets full of people that want a piece of you. I
have no right to deny them. Get to your feet.”
Dyvees barked a laugh. “Ha, you as good as told me you won’t
kill me. Why should I cooperate?”
In answer Coy pulled the trigger, aiming slightly to the left and
singed his spacesuit. Dyvees yelped in fear. “I’m going to keep you
alive
a little longer – I didn’t say anything about intact.” He stood.
“Lamont to Sweggert.”
“Sweggert,” a very relieved voice answered. “Go ahead.”
“We are coming out. He’s coming out first, but refrain from
killing him for the moment.”
“Gotcha. I mean, aye, sir.”
Coy grinned at Dyvees with anything but humor. “Let’s go.”

An emotionally exhausted Butler reported on the final mopping up at Tai Han just as Coy boarded the
Rook
.
“We’ve taken a lot of damage,” he said, torn between bitterness and apology. “Sick bay is full and I don’t think Bon has even
stopped moving for hours.”
Coy nodded understanding. “A hell of a price to pay for victory, eh?”
“Is that what it is?” Butler asked skeptically, “Is it really
over?”
“Everyone’s objective was accomplished,” Coy told him as it
pulled its prisoner into vid range, “Including mine.”
“Damn,” Ken breathed. “Have you decided what to do with
him yet?”
“I have a few ideas,” Coy replied, carefully not looking at
Dyvees. “Perhaps one laser wound for each world he hurt. Or one second naked in space for each.”
Butler grinned wearily. “I get the idea. Can’t wait to see you
at rendezvous, sir.
Raven
out.” He saluted and cut the com.
Dyvees leaned over Coy’s shoulder to sneer, “You’re not scaring me.”
Without turning Coy’s arm jerked up and its fist exploded
backwards into the man’s face. Hands still bound behind his back, he
hit the deck, hard, nose spouting blood. All it took was a glance at the
security team and they hauled him to his feet and half marched, half
dragged him to the brig.

A smaller number of ships arrived at the Alliance Force rendezvous this time. Smaller and horribly abused. This had been no easy
win. The worlds that had volunteered manpower and materials instead
of fighting vessels went to work dividing up the repairs.

Coy’s muscles were tight with unexpressed grief as the losses
and damages were tallied. It knew that they had planned as well as
they could and that everyone executed those plans to the best of their
ability. But it still hurt. And unfortunately, with Coy’s memory, it
knew it always would.

It tried to rally its former sense of triumph as it handed Dyvees
over to the newly formed Betan Alliance Security Council. Tenetia,
first as always in BlackFleet affairs it seemed, had been designated to
head the Council.

“
He probably has a ship full of lawyers,” Coy warned as the
“Boogeyman” was transferred from one set of guards to another.
The Tenetian representative smiled wolfishly.
“The Alliance
has decided that the Region is still to be classified as a frontier. In other words, we make our own rules. Trust me,” he turned the smile on
Dyvees, “his lawyers are absolutely useless.” The expression when he
turned to face Coy was much more somber. He put out his hand. “We
owe you much, Commodore Lamont.”
And with that it was over. Twenty-seven months of blood,
sweat, working, searching and fighting culminated in a simple handshake. Coy collected its troopers and returned to the
Raven.

Zachary paused before pushing the buzzer to gain entrance to
Lamont’s quarters. He knew what he had to do, but he had mixed feelings himself – let alone misgivings about Lamont’s reaction.

The door was opened by Lieutenant Asch
– Lamont’s ever
present steward/acquisitions officer.
“I ah, need to see the Commodore.”
“Yes, sir. This way, please.”
Asch led him into an amazing –cabin? The place seemed the
size of some of the ships that had been in the recent battle. He followed the lieutenant across the room and down a step. Lamont appeared to be relaxing with a hot drink on a long curved couch. A very
tired Lamont.
Zachary took a breath and mentally kicked himself. Great, he
was interrupting a commanding officer on personal time.
Coy looked up at Asch’s approach and saw Zachary. It took in
his anxious face and realized it had to be important for him to come at
a time like this. And it had a pretty good idea what it was. Coy nodded
at a seat opposite. “Sit down, Captain. Care for coffee or tea?”
“Ah, no, thanks.” At that Asch vanished. Zachary sat, though
and gathered his thoughts. “Commodore, I have a problem.”
“Your ship.” Lamont guessed.
He nodded. “It took a lot of damage. You’re man Bon helped
my engineer with an assessment. In fact he sort of suggested…well,
you see, Commodore, I don’t have any way to keep going. Even with
your Alliance helping with repairs. I still owe back payments and…”
He took another breath to bolster his nerve. “Would you be interested
in buying her, sir? Bon said that you had acquired ships before in
worse condition and renovated them for your use.”
Coy’s eyebrows rose. “Did he now?”
“Yes, sir. It would solve my financial dilemma and add a good
ship to your Fleet.” At Coy’s look, he added, “Well, after she’s fixed
up, of course.”
Coy put its cup down, picked up a hand comp and appeared to
make some calculations. “I have read Bon’s assessment, as a matter of
fact. The ship is well worth repairing. And my Exec would be thrilled
to have it on the team.” Coy’s voice trailed off doubtfully, despite the
optimistic words.
“But…” Zachary supplied the unspoken.
“But if I took on a new ship, it would need a captain and
crew.” Coy looked him in the eye. “Would you be interested in staying on and commanding a ship that no longer belonged to you?”
Zachary blinked. ‘Staying on? Joining the BlackFleet?”
“Exactly. Captain Butler has reported on your performance
during battle. To do all of that with no promise of payment shows that
you are not a mere mercenary. You are BlackFleet material.”
Zachary sat speechless. Lamont sat patiently while he thought
for several minutes. “I, I don’t know what to say. I know I said some
things that were out of line when I first contacted you…”
Coy waved it off. “You were right. You had only met the
former Coy Lamont. I’m still getting to know the new one myself.
And in a way, your very appearance helped me a little further along
with that…” Coy paused. “So what about my offer?”
“I think…” he straightened his spine proudly. “I think I would
be honored, Commodore Lamont.”
Coy smiled and offered a hand. “Welcome aboard, Captain
Zachary. Asch will handle the number shuffling involved in paying off
your creditors.”
“What about my crew?”
“They will be offered a chance at positions with the Fleet as
well – although not necessarily on your ship.” He gave a reluctant nod
of understanding.
“Once we explain our initiation process we’ll see
who’s willing to stay. Although,” Coy looked thoughtful, “this is one
time I might modify the training slightly – seeing what you all went
through by helping us out. In the meantime, I’ll let Bon get started on
the renovations.”
“Sorry it doesn’t have one of your bird names.”
Coy gave another small smile. “That can be fixed easily
enough.”
Zachary took his cue to leave. He stood and saluted. “Yes, sir.
Thank you, sir.”
Coy leaned back on the couch and closed its eyes. It was not
even aware that Bon had entered as Zachary left until he made a small
throat clearing noise. Coy looked up at him and was suddenly struck
with the memory of the first time Bon had appeared. “May I help
you?” it asked as it had then.
Bon smiled as he too remembered the occasion. “I don’t
know. Still need engineers?”
“More than ever.” Coy motioned at the chair Zachary had vacated. “Six ships and 220 people. How did that happen, Raeph?”
Bon shrugged. We grew.”
“Individually as well as collectively,” Coy sighed in agreement.
There was a pause as each thought back over the past couple of
years and all the changes they had all gone through.
“So,” Bon broke the silence, “now that the war is over, what
do you intend to do with this not-so-little BlackFleet of yours?”
Coy shook its head. “The war isn’t over. We won a major
round, true. And it was one hell of an accomplishment. But people
out there are still getting hurt. They are still going to need someone to
care.”
“So back to the beginning, eh? Daring rescues, dangerous escapes…”
“Exactly. Now that we’ve cleared the Region of the biggest
threat, all of the little threats will move in.”
“Well, then,” Bon slapped the arms of his chair as he stood up.
“I guess I’d better get this bird cleaned up and ready for duty.” He
headed over to let himself out. He paused at the door just long enough
to say, “Good work, Admiral. Good night.”
“Good ni…” Coy began before catching what he had said.
Bon grinned, saluted and went back to work.

The mood in the conference room on Riga was somber. The
men and women around the table wore expressions that matched their
conversation.

“
Well, Specimen D-17 was completely shut down. Plan A is a
total bust.” one scientist stated, shaking his head.
“What about Plan B?”
The first man looked disgusted. “Plan B is who shut down Plan
A. It seems to have gone completely renegade.”
“Is the whole batch faulty?”
“They do seem to have excess initiative,” another person
scowled across the table at his colleague.
“They had to be able to survive,” the offended colleague defended herself.
“So, what do we do? How do we salvage this?” another asked.
“I thought you were going to get rid of this last one, Scot,” the
first man demanded.
Floyd-Scot frowned. I did the best I could. I was sure that
damned doctor would give it the poison.”
“You should have done it yourself.”
“I was on their ship! Surrounded by them!”
“You should have…”
“What? Brought them down here? To see what we really do?
Is that what you would have preferred?” Scot planted his hands on the
table and half stood in anger.
“Alright! That’s enough,” said one man softly but sternly. “We
can sit here all day and toss accusations and blame around the table
like a sport. Or we can discuss what to do now.” He leaned forward in
his usual slow precise manner and switched on his computer notes.
“From all the information we have been able to collect, it appears this
Lamont, has wiped out any connection to us along with the other specimen. That in itself has bought us more time.”
“What about the others? Do we just sit and wait until the program breaks down and they go off course as well?”
He shook his head. “No, although the odds of any of the others
surviving the self destruct are extremely low, we can’t afford the risk.”
The room was quiet for a minute.
“You want us to destroy the whole generation?”
“Abandon the whole plan?”
Another shake of the head. “Not abandon, just adapt perhaps…”