Galactic Freighter: Scourge of the Deep Space Pirates (Contact) (23 page)

"What's your ship?"

"SSS Mulholland. Captain Russell Connor. Assigned to pick up our ambassador on Barnard's Star and return him to Seltsam."

Rasby continued to ask general questions. Finally, satisfied he learned all he could from Ephram, told the Seltsam spacer he had to leave. They shook hands and parted.

An airtaxi parked in front took him to a diner and finished, another delivered him to the Den.

Entering, he ambled to the bar and again ordered a Seltsam beer hoping for the same result he'd had earlier.

From the corner, a man called to Rasby inviting him to their table. The men were on the same ship as Ephram.

Over the next hours, Rasby lost track of the time; they took turns buying drinks. Thanks to some
crap
Ivan made him drink, the effects of the binge were minimal on the SEAL.

Rasby looked up as someone approached the table. "Hey, Ephram. You look like you could use a chair," he said making room for the spacer.

One by one, those at the table when Rasby had first joined them had left finally leaving Ephram and Rasby.

"Whatcha ya hear from home?" Rasby asked. "We heard that some royal got killed. You hear anything?"

"Yeah. But 'fore we left Seltsam, Cap said not to talk 'bout it." Ephram's night of drinking slurred his words and loosened his tongue. He leaned close to Rasby. "I heard a big fleet of ships is comin' from Iona an' Seltsam's gonna join them. We get an Emperor. Can you imagine, me bowin'?"

Another man approached the table. "Think I had better get him back to the ship," he said.

Rasby asked Ephram if he knew the man. Ephram, bleary eyed, looked up. "Yeah, but I don't like him. He's a stoolie. Tells everthin' on everone."

"I'll see that he gets back." Rasby removed the man's hand from Ephram's arm.

"Like hell you will." The man stepped back, and took a swing at Rasby. It was the last thing the intruder remembered as the SEAL swept aside the blow, hit the man in the stomach, and then delivered a fist to the side of his head. He grabbed his drunken friend and headed for the door, leaving a credit on the table.

Inside the airtaxi, he told the driver to head for the Seltsam pickup point at the spaceport.

Ten minutes later, he and Ephram were on the communal pinnace headed for the Mulholland which was on the same orbit as Forager. If he could get aboard maybe he could find someone Lord Fryman could deal with. He recognized the risk involved and the odds against any meaningful contact. Maybe he was even getting Forager in trouble. Still, he had to finish the job.

Ephram slept the entire ride to the Mulholland.

Rasby handed his drunk friend over to the bosun' and waited in the hanger bay. An officer approached and asked his ship's name.

"Forager, Sir." The SEAL gave a crisp salute. "We're a freighter," he added.

"It will be at least three hours before the pinnace returns. Come with me."

Following the officer and accompanied by a Marine, they walked to the mess hall and some much-needed coffee.

Rasby had little luck getting the officer into a conversation until he mentioned the murdered royal.

The officer stood. "You seem to know a great deal about Seltsam."

Rasby opened his mouth to speak but stopped when the officer waved him still. He stepped away from the table gaining some privacy and activated his shoulder comm.

"Come with me," he said.

Along with the Marine, Rasby followed the officer into the passageway. Rasby had to hurry to keep up with the man's long strides.

Minutes later, they stopped and the officer pressed a bulkhead stud.

The hatch opened and the two entered, the Marine remained outside.

"Captain Connor, this is the man," the officer said.

Seated, the captain leaned forward, elbows on the metal desk, and hands folded, he eyed Rasby. "The OD says you seem very well informed for someone who's spent the last few months in space. I assume my sailor talked too much and you are someone we need to know more about."

"Sir, if he did, lay the blame on me," Rasby said.

"Don't worry, I will," the Captain shot back. He leaned into his chair. "The royal, you seem to have an inordinate interest in him. How is that?"

"Sir, freighters are particularly sensitive to any ship boarded and murder is reason enough to be cautious." He paused, "May I ask why the Captain is concerned over my interest?"

"You're a brazen bastard," the Captain said. He again studied the SEAL. "You're no ordinary spacer. Who are you and why are you aboard my ship?"

It had all come down to this. Tell the truth, knowing the risk involved, or lie. Ephram had shown no animosity toward Seltsam becoming a member of the Ionian empire and that made his decision. Rasby decided to lay it on the line. He recognized the brig might be his next stop and for a long time. Noticeably relaxed, he took a deep breath and slowly let it escape. "Sir, I am Commander Donald Rasby, leader of a SEAL detachment in the service of Sebastian, Emperor of Iona."

The Captain chuckled, picked up a scribe lying on the desk, and threw it at a dartboard hanging on the bulkhead striking amazingly close to the bull's eye. "Well, the Proctor certainly didn't anticipate this," Connor said staring at Rasby. "I was briefed on Lord Fryman's visit to Seltsam. And that includes the offer for our world to join the Ionian Empire. Quite a visit. I didn't anticipate the interest in our ship and our presence at Barnard's Star. Our crewmen who returned ahead of you were concerned enough about your questioning to tell the bosun' and OD. And you did attack one of my crew."

"Correction, Sir, he took a swing at me. I merely defended myself." Not waiting for the officer to respond, in fact talking fast enough to discourage a rejoinder, he added, "Sir, I recognize what I've said and about to say may land me in the brig, but I am a simple man—not a diplomat. Our purpose is straightforward. As you know, Lord Fryman is aboard our ship. He is under orders from the Emperor to find those who killed our prince, Sebastian's son." Rasby suspected Connor knew all of this.

"We are here because we believe a ship on orbit holds those responsible. My job is to determine if our information is correct. If so—"

"If so, what, Commander. I suppose you'll just take them."

"Yes, Sir." There was no brag in Rasby's voice and that apparently didn't go unnoticed by the Captain.

"And you have the men to take the ship," said the Captain obviously in doubt.

"I have two SEALs aboard Forager."

"Two! And you think," he stopped mid-sentence, "Commander you are either crazy or full of yourself which is to say full of shit."

Rasby hesitated. "Sir, have you ever heard of the Blue Marlin?"

"I suppose you're going to tell me you and your two SEALs took it over except I know better. Yes, I've heard all the cute stories of three guys holding one hundred Marines hostage and capturing the ship. Some of the same bullshit you're full of."

"Sir, Lord Fryman was one of those men and he is prepared to meet with you and discuss the matter."

The Captain stared hard at Rasby. Abruptly, he stood, walked from behind his desk, hands on hips, he looked down on the shorter, stockier SEAL. "You're telling me you concocted all of this drinking and bringing my crewman back just to get to me?"

"Yes, Sir." Rasby’s matter-of-fact manner had Connor running his hand through his hair.

"I don't know whether to believe you or have my bosun' ready the airlock." The Captain stepped back, eyes still locked on Rasby. He looked at the OD and said, "Have the shuttle take this man to his ship. I will contact this Lord Fryman."

Chapter Twenty-Three:
Arrangements

B
uck stood on the bridge listening to Rasby's report. "He thinks we're full of it, huh?"

"Yes, Sir. He's supposed to contact you. I gave him one of our tight beam frequencies."

"He did and I'm going back on their shuttle to meet with him. Commander, it took a lot of guts to do what you did. Thinking on your feet, well, with no more information than you had, I think the Captain may be right. You may not be full of shit but something—I just don't know what. I'm glad you're on our side."

That brought laughs from Tommy and Ivan as well as the SEAL.

Ivan and Buck boarded the shuttle. An hour later, Buck stepped onto the hanger deck of the Mulholland. He saluted their flag, then the Captain and said, "Sir, I am Lord Fryman, in the service of Sebastian, Emperor of Iona. Request permission to come aboard."

"Sir, permission granted. I am Captain Russell Conner." Conner returned the salute and offered his hand.

Completing the formalities, the Captain looked up at Buck, at least one and half heads taller, then Ivan. "If the rest of your crew is as big as you two, you might do as the crazy SEAL said, just walk in and take the ship."

Buck gave Conner a wry grin. During the walk along the passageway to the wardroom, Buck learned the older man had served as Captain of a luxury liner for ten years. After a distinguished career, he’d retired, became bored with civilian life, and took the captaincy of the Mulholland. Buck assured him he fully understood. Being a spacer all his adult life, he'd had a similar problem.

When they’d been seated and served with coffee, Conner said, "Getting aboard the Teutonic, I assume it is the ship you're interested in, and capturing it will not be easy. We've had our eye on the same ship but for different reasons. I can tell you she is well fortified. That is a warship. The owner is very wealthy and spared no expense making it into a luxury ship. However, she still retains the naval armament." The Captain didn't say what his interest was. Buck was sure it wasn't the same as his.

"I don't plan on attacking the ship, Captain. What I want is to either get aboard or force them to space. The Ionian fleet can chase them down if they leave. Either way, they are vulnerable. I will use that to my advantage."

"Cock sure, huh? What do you have in mind to make either of these things happen?"

"Don't know—yet," Buck said with a smile.

"Sir, you are as crazy as your SEAL commander," responded Conner with a wry grin.

"You did take the Blue Marlin? Just the three of you?" he asked a touch of absurdity in his voice.

Buck laughed. "Yes, we did. It took some finagling, and luck, a lot of both, but we got it done. The captain was most helpful and the crew careless. One hundred Marines and a crew of one hundred to our three, they totally underestimated us. With our crew of forty locked up we had to use what we had. The three of us made the most of our captor's inattentiveness."

"So it seems," Conner said. "Well, I'm inexperienced at taking another ship. So, how do we make this happen?"

Buck decided the Proctor had lectured the Captain before they spaced from Seltsam.

Over the next hour, every detail they could scrape up on the ship, people of interest who had boarded her, the crew, no matter how insignificant the information, all went into the pot and received a thorough airing.

"Commander Rasby mentioned a launch from the surface visits the Teutonic once a week to deliver supplies," Buck said. "We have to get a man aboard that launch.

"We need more information," Buck continued. "I intend to send Commander Rasby dirtside again and see what he can dig up.

"We may be pushing our luck," he added, "but I don't see any other way. Got any thoughts Captain Conner?"

Conner shook his head, pointed a finger at Buck, and said, "You people are totally mad but damn, I like your balls. And no, I have no ideas to offer."

The meeting broke after the Mulholland skipper accepted an invitation to join Buck for dinner. The two captains and Ivan shuttled to Forager.

After the SEAL commander joined them, Buck asked, "Since this is the Teutonic's home base, what chance is there of getting a detailed layout of the ship?"

"Probably not very good," Rasby said. "It's a warship with the exterior redone up to make it look like a very big private runabout. Any changes on the interior are most likely classified information."

"Maybe," Buck said, "And maybe not."

That brought questioning looks from the other men.

"The Navy wouldn't do the refit. I'm betting a private company did the work. Most likely they didn’t ask the military's permission… just had it done by a refit shop."

"Before I joined the Navy, I worked for a refitting company. I know what to look for," Rasby said.

"Okay, Commander, looks like another trip dirtside. Your scrap with the man in the bar may mark you."

"I doubt that, Sir. There were two other dust-ups while I was there. Mine was minor compared to those."

With that, the meeting broke. "Captain, dinner is waiting," Buck escorted them to his cabin.

"I'm ready," responded an eager Conner as they found their places. "Get to see what your cook can do. I know too well what mine is capable of." His answer carried a tone of weariness.

Buck understood what the same chow meant during a long space voyage.

Russell and Buck dined alone. He wanted the time with the Captain to gain a better understanding of the man. He seemed almost too willing to join their effort, and Buck didn't take that as an omen, but….

The conversation meandered until Captain Conner, evidently having some of the same doubts, put the question to Buck. "Why were you so concerned or interested in us, Lord Fryman? We have little to offer toward satisfying this absurd effort."

"Sir, I had to know why you are here. If it was to disclose Seltsam considering joining with Iona, it would affect my efforts considerably."

"You are very thorough and rightfully apprehensive, Lord Fryman. It's probably why you've been able to survive as long as you have. Being a freighter is one thing, but from what you've told me this evening, you've escaped harm or worse by having a skeptical streak."

Buck didn't acknowledge the remark.

"Proctor Olbrich did brief me before we spaced. I must say your coming to Seltsam presents us with an opportunity that we've wanted for some time. Years in fact. It isn't without risk for our world. I believe you're asking us to help with your purpose is a show of trust. Although I certainly didn't expect to be caught up in something like you're proposing, if we are to join your empire that is an asset that deserves care and attention. Involving us puts, in a manner of speaking, your lives in our hands. Not many men would do what you have. That humbles me."