Opening Moves (46 page)

In her hand Sammy held four Queens, and she was desperately trying to look miserable about it. Around the table her opponents in this game of poker were all looking equally unmoved, trying to keep their own hands a mystery. On the table was a pot of seventy credits, linked into a common pool via a wifi network between each of the players' personal computers. It wasn't exactly legal – gambling as a whole was against regulations, at least whileon duty – but since it wasn't logged into the ship's internal main comm systems there was little chance of them being discovered.

“I'm going to call,” said a middle-aged reactor technician, a lighthouse of a man who had found his way into their round. He had brought a couple of crew members with him all of whom seemed to defer to him. His name tag read 'Steenberg', and his hands looked more like the paws of a bear. He had a vicious glimmer in his eyes, but even without that Samantha would have disliked him. The past hour had seen one sexist and racist comment after another from him, and while she was thick-skinned – after all she was bunked with two dozen buffoons, as she liked to remind herself – he was stretching her patience.

“
Not yet,” Sammy responded calmly. “First, I'll raise twenty.” More credits popped up in the pot. “If you want to see my cards, that's what it'll cost ya.”

“
No way, I'm out,” 'Grunt' dropped his cards and leaned back, his eyes fixed on Sammy.

“
Me too,” Private Kowalsky, a gigantic dark skinned man from the United States who had the imaginative nickname of 'Large' and was well suited to it, agreed with a sigh. He was new to the unit but had proven a good soldier on exercise and a holy terror in the few bar room brawls Alpha Platoon had gotten into.

Sammy raised her eyebrows. “So, Steenberg? Are you gonna make a move or what?”

The mountain of a man snorted derisively. “You think an army rat like you can bluff me out of a hand like this?” He nodded towards the cards hidden from her. “Nah, it's hard to tell with ya, Lee, with you and your slitty eyes. Too much Alliance blood in ya, eh?”

That froze the nice atmosphere right there. Feet shuffled uncomfortably from one side of the room to another, with the present members of Alpha Platoon positioning themselves behind Sammy. The Navy guys, most of them at least, did the same to Steenberg. Sammy knew guys like Steenberg only too well. The big fella was itching for a fight. People like him always needed to be on top, always needed to dominate a situation, always needed to be the ones in the right. They were the stuff bullies were made from. Or gang leaders.

Sammy kept her level gaze but the relaxed tone that had dominated the conversation before had vanished from her voice. “Well, at least I don't come from some two-bit Indie system where your mom's also your sister, big boy. Are you going to play poker or what?”

Steenberg's cheeks reddened and anger flared up in his eyes. The large technician matched her bid, then produced an icy grin. “All right. Lets see 'em.”

With a grin matching his in coldness, Lee laid her cards down, watching the color drain from her opponent's face. It was a sight to treasure.

The technician flung his cards down with a guttural growl.

“Well, guys, this has been fun,” the pot automatically transferred itself into Samantha's account. “But I gotta visit the little girls' room now.”

“
Hey, you gotta give us a chance to win some of this stuff back!” Kowalsky protested.

“
Sure, why not. I was thinking same time tomorrow?” she suggested. “Not like we're going anywhere.”

“
This isn't over!” Steenberg barked.

Inaudibly, Samantha took a deep breath. “Yes, it is, big boy. You'll get your chance,
tomorrow
.” She rose from her chair.

“
No, now!” the tall technician demanded. “What's up? Afraid you'll lose? Hey, I know why!” he looked at the other navy personnel and grinned broadly, but without even a trace of genuine happiness. “I bet it's because you cheated.”

Stowing her tablet away Samantha placed both her feet firmly on the ground in an unsuspicious position. The gravity on a star ship was lower than what she was used to, but higher than what she had trained in during the Martian field exercises and occasional separatist hunts Alpha Platoon had taken part in. One didn't have to be a genius to see where this conversation was headed. She could almost see the raw aggression building up in Steenberg, as if it was something the man's body excreted as a natural byproduct.

“No. It's because you're not only a bad loser, but also a bad poker player.”

“
I'm sure your traitor parents trained you good, little girl,” he sneered. “But maybe not good enough. Now all you do is ride piggyback on star ships or trudge through the mud, yelling 'Yes, sir!' This is my part of this ship,” he glared and cracked his knuckles, “and when I say we play poker, we play poker. Now sit down,
girl
.”

“
Come on, Mack. Give it a rest,” one of the other members of the tech crew called out nervously.

“
Shut up, you pussy. Nobody's asked for your opinion!”

Sammy eyed him without a trace of emotion. Steenberg was almost a foot taller than she and easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds. The way he held himself spoke of long years of experience in bar brawls, probably all across human settled space, and the vicious streak so apparent made him doubly dangerous.

“You really don't want to do this. I won't play again today, Steenberg, get it?” She began to walk towards the hatch, zipping her jacket shut over her green tank top. “I'm airborne. Your 'I'm big and bad' shtick doesn't exactly work its charms on me.”

With the fluid motions of a snake the tall technician rose and stepped into her way, crossing his thick arms in front of his chest. The wide smile on his face almost melted into the angry glare of his eyes. “Sit down, girlie. Last chance.”

Sammy looked up at him with impatience. She hated this kind of person, this type of situation. There never was a good way out of them. “When you fell down the stupid tree did you hit a couple more branches on the way down than the rest of us? Cut it off, Steenberg!”

“
Maybe I'll cut something off you, you cunt!” he roared and threw himself at her, a two hundred and fifty pound bundle of muscles and anger.

Sidestepping his attack she let Steenberg rush halfway past her before her right arm grabbed his and her knee slammed up into his stomach. The force of the impact hit the spacer like a steam hammer and put him off balance.

He grunted, a sound more resembling the roar of a stunned tiger than a man's voice, and rushed around to face her.

Sammy pivoted like a ballet dancer, and the heavy boot on her foot connected with Steenberg's chin with a dull, meaty sound.

The technician's grunt turned into an anguished howl, but he jumped forward, his massive paws clawing for her.

She ducked under the first two of his punches and deflected a third one, leaving her right shoulder numb as the misguided blow that had been meant for her face bruised her there. Her feet moved like those of a dancer, always matching the flow of Steenberg's moves. The large man was a force of nature, but he ultimately was nothing but a brawler. Samantha's unarmed training as a member of the elite Airborne Assault units of the Union military wasn't quite up to the standards of the special forces like the SEALs or DELTA, but it wasn't too far off the mark either, and they had been encouraged by the higher ups to keep those skills and instincts honed. The danger here wasn't losing against Steenberg. The danger was drawing the fight out so long that her instincts took over, a possibility she was keenly aware of.

Evading another flurry of punches from a wild-eyed Steenberg she caught an opening. Her arm darted forward, slamming into the technician's solar plexus. Simultaneously, her left foot slammed into his right ankle. Sinews snapped with stomach-churning noise but the tall man's yelp of pain was silenced as her punch pressed all air out of his lungs. Using his yielding legs as a springboard she somersaulted over him, the reduced gravity aboard JOHNSTON easing the maneuver. She landed firmly on both feet and swung around, the whole action having taken her barely a second, and began to work Steenberg's kidneys in a series of quick, hard punches.

The battered technician tried to push himself up again on his one good foot. Seemingly appearing out of thin air a short blade flashed in his hands as he tried to turn around and reach her.

Sammy brought the kick she was about to deliver to a rapid halt, the energy she had tried to put in it fizzling out into her own muscles instead. With a grunt she barely managed to avoid the wildly slashing spacer's attacks, his blade cutting through her tank top without touching her skin. Darting aside she grabbed his wrist and squeezed it hard, holding the blade suddenly as still as if it was stuck in a jaw vise. Before Steenberg's free hand could intervene she landed another punch on the man's solar plexus. His feet gave in, but Samantha rammed her knee into his groin once, then again.

With a suffocated cry the technician let go of the weapon and slumped to the ground, panting.

In a fluid motion a long, black combat knife slipped into Sammy's hand and she knelt down, pressing its shining blade against the man's throat just enough that a thin trickle of blood appeared. She leaned closer, and when she spoke her voice was almost like velvet.

“
Now you listen,
boy
: never ever try shit like this again,” she purred almost happily. “If something goes wrong and a member of Alpha Platoon gets hurt we'll be looking for you. Lots of dark corners on a starship, lots of sharp surfaces one might accidently stumble into. And that would be a shame, wouldn't it? If you feel the need to mark your territory so bad, how about you go and take a piss in your locker? Or we just try to get along, go our separate ways, and nothing bad has to happen. Sounds good?”

Steenberg looked back at her with hate in his blurry eyes and she sighed.

“Well, you just sleep over what I've just said.” Her left fist slammed against his temple and he sank into a heap, as if his bones were made of jello. She looked up at the spacers he had brought with him to their poker game with cold, hard eyes. “What a shame that Mr. Steenberg was so agitated after losing this game that he stumbled over his on feet, twisted his ankle and hurt his head on the bulkhead door. I'm sure he'll appreciate it if you guys carry him to his bunk and avoid any further... complications.”

Mired in an awkward silence the spacers picked their unconscious comrade up and cleared the room. Sammy looked after them until the last left, then she exhaled heavily and sank to a nearby bunk. Her muscles felt like she had pushed them through a dozen hours of rigid training, and she chuckled mirthlessly. “Jesus Christ, I'm getting too old for these games.” She looked down on herself, shaking slightly now that the adrenaline oozed out from her. “And I need a new top. Damn it, I
liked
this one.”

“
Well, look at it this way, Lee: these guys won't be trying to cheat on us anytime soon!” Kowalsky grinned.

“
Yeah, because they won't be playing with us!” 'Grunt' Kayser protested. “How am I gonna get my money back?”

“
There's four hundred people aboard this ship. I'm sure we'll find...”

Taking the whole room by complete surprise, the 'General Quarters' alarm suddenly blared out from the ships speakers.

The compartment cleared in an instant. Any notion of fatigue was washed from Sammy's body as she sped down the ship's low gravity corridors in wide leaps.

“
How can you have a combat alert in foldspace?” Grunt grumbled as he almost bounced off the roof of the quarters and fumbled for a hand hold.

“
I don't know, but do you hear that?” Lee pricked up her ears as an eerie rumble ran through the cruiser. “The M-Os are powering up! Seems we're heading for normspace soon.”

The large ships were heavily automated but still required a few hundred crew to keep everything in order and to provide a little human insight in the world of targeting computers and circuitry.

“Come on, you sloths!” the bellowing voice of Sergeant Masters boomed across the harsh metal corridor from farther to the front. “Get to the armory! Move it!”

Lee was the first in, darting through the ops center where a stone faced Lt. Jones and the platoon's five handlers were booting up the monitoring systems for each of the platoon's combat suits and the direct feed to JOHNSTON's main data hub. She hurled herself into the section of the armory that had been reserved for Alpha Platoon's suits, the nineteen other men and women of the combat section of her platoon hot on her heels. On the other side of their 'bay' armored bulkheads were sliding into position, finishing the ship-wide process of compartmentalization that was meant to guarantee the survival of the cruiser and as much of its crew as possible.

Sammy caught a glimpse of the ship's ordinary security crew before heavy steel and heat resistant compound materials closed the gap with a slight pneumatic hiss. Small rows of weapons' lockers were open and the NAVSEC guys had been busy loading up. Despite the strain of the sprint she smiled wryly. The carbines the security teams were busy loading were peashooters compared to the firepower Alpha Platoon packed.