Opening Moves (9 page)

“
Crap.” Lee dropped on her bunk. “I hate it when that happens.”

“
Well, look at it from this angle: at least the Colonel never found out it was you who left the hand brake off that truck which totaled his car,” Grunt pointed out. “And I shouldn't have said that out loud, should I?”

“
Talking about it jinxes it.” Tucker pointed out. “Now you gotta lift the jinx before someone finds out.”

“
And the only way to lift it is to buy the first round of drinks at the
Purgatory
tonight,” Lee chuckled. “Drinks are on the Kayser!”

The twenty strong platoon gave a mocking cheer, prompting 'Grunt' Kayser to stand up and take a bow. Over the years the company had acquired a handful of traditions and superstitions which had to be religiously observed so as not to jinx the unit with bad luck. One such superstition was to not talk about company secrets out loud. Luckily, most jinxes could be easily lifted, usually through buying excessive amounts of alcohol or performing a challenge or dare. It was silly but in many ways it brought the troops together more.

“Anyway, come on guys.” Lee stood, the single stripe on her shoulder requiring her to take some extra responsibilities in her unit. “We've got a briefing to attend in half an hour about 'galactic events'.” There were some – expected – groans. “Yeah, I know. Nothing to do with us, but you might learn something. And
then
we'll hit the dome.”

That cheered them up a little, and gradually they started moving their kit away and cleaned up their little corner of Mars. The 1020
th
was an old outfit, having first been formed in the heydays of the first stellar wars of the early 23
rd
century. Still, since they couldn't exactly be expected to have five hundred year old corpses piloting their suits, most of the unit as it was had seen only limited action. Hunting down Martian separatist groups was the most combat the soldiers had. 'Real' combat, going toe to toe with experienced and well-equipped opponents, was something only the Colonel and a few of the officers who had transferred from the outer colonies had seen. As a unit operating powered armor suits the regiment was specialized in operations in hostile environments in every sense of the word. Most of its training took place outside the Martian domes in the harsh climate earning them a reputation as hardy and uncomplaining soldiers. They could look back at war games on Europa's icy surface and in Altair colony's unforgiving jungles. But they still had to experience their baptism by fire.

Lee squared away her bunk and adjusted the old school photograph on the wall beside her. It showed Natasha and their eleven year old son Michael. Every time she glanced at the picture she had a swelling of pride for her family. Natasha was a manager at one of the smaller Martian shipping firms. It didn't pay a lot, but it was solid work arranging cargo drops and setting up contracts. Their son was in junior school a few blocks away and was already an accomplished sportsman. Better even, he had shown himself to be pretty bright. Samantha and Natasha had high hopes for the future. His grandmother had already said he'd make a good cop, maybe even a detective, though of course Samantha wanted to see him join the armed forces and experience the comradeship she had grown to respect and appreciate herself during her service. Either way, their son was going to be a success. Both of them would make sure of that.

With a lingering smile she headed out of the barracks with the rest of the platoon and headed for the briefing on the fall of Toklamakun.

Purgatory Club, Mars.

The barman threw a quick glance at the crowd walking in, laughing loudly. Even though they were dressed in casual shirts and pants he could see from their stance and walk that they were clearly soldiers. He of course didn't mind. The local garrison provided a huge amount of his business, but he could see a couple of his clients getting a bit agitated at the sudden increase in noise. He shrugged. Wasn't really a matter of concern to him. After all, it was a free country. They didn't like his service they could bloody well get lost. There were plenty of other bars in town if they didn't like it here.

One of the grinning soldiers headed for the bar with a credit chit clutched in his hands.

“
Twenty-one beers for my buddies over there!” he said enthusiastically to the wild cheers of his comrades.

“
Nice one, Grunt!” one of them called.

The barman ran the card with a smile. “On its way, trooper. Take a seat!” Whenever a party of soldiers came in – which was most nights, really – the barman rolled up his sleeves to display a tattoo on his forearm. It was the unit emblem of the 7
th
Armored Cavalry, his former unit. He didn't mind soldiers using his bar one damn bit because he remembered being there himself back in the days. He started pouring them generous portions and stacked them on the bar.

* * * * *

Elsewhere in the bar a pair of men looked over their shoulders at the sudden cheering of the new arrivals but dismissed it as harmless enthusiasm.

“
Jarheads,” one of them quipped, then returned to the table. “Whatcha drinkin'?”

His companion was a huge man, standing at over six feet seven and gifted with a physique to match. He wore his hair in artfully bound braids. A thick but well-trimmed beard adorned his face. His arms were covered with a liberal helping of tattoos. “Pina Colada,” he answered in a gravelly voice.

The other man sighed. Much shorter and more slender with scruffy black hair, he shook his head.

“
Alexej, I told you twenty times they don't serve those kind of drinks in places like this. Pina Coladas, honestly, are a wee bit too girly.”

Normally Alexej Romanov, known as 'Duchess' to the tramp freighter community due to some of his more odd quirks, would not tolerate anyone at all even indirectly saying something he liked was 'girly'. However, his current companion had known him for long enough to recognize Alexej would take it as a joke. Sure enough the big man gave a roaring laugh which temporarily eclipsed even the neighboring soldiers.

A new pair of people entered the bar, both of them rather scruffy looking and nervous to be in this particular part of town. It wasn't exactly a dive but the regulars in this district didn't tend to demand classical music and
haute cuisine
. They were mainly dock workers, private freighter crews and infantry from the local base, their officers preferring to dine up town. The two new arrivals were fairly young looking, a fair haired man and a girl with something of a Japanese ancestry judging by her dark hair and features. They spotted the huge Russian across the room and headed for their table, the girl drawing some appreciative glances from the party of soldiers.

“
Hi, Tarek. Alexej, you cool?”

“
Just thirsty,” the big man rumbled.

“
Rául, Annie.” Tarek Winters nodded in greeting, his straggly hair falling across his brow as he did so. “So, did you speak to the guy?”

The four people at the table represented eighty percent of the crew of the freighter IRON MAIDEN. It was a rather small and unimpressive ship but was well noted for its speed and ability to evade raiders on even the most dangerous foldspace route. As its master Tarek Winters had become quite famous in the freighter community for having a knack for finding the best jobs in the sector and turning a tidy profit.

His crew was a mix of truly diverse people. Alexej was the pilot and despite his lighthouse-like stature size was amazingly good at the ship's deft controls. Rául was their navigator, and his nervous nature was seen as a consequence of all the near misses Winters had escaped from. Annie Saito was a fairly new addition to the crew, having joined six months earlier to replace 'Big' Jim Piper who had first bought the IRON MAIDEN with Tarek's father thirty years earlier. He had retired to a nice house in Goddard City with his decent fortune, and now Tarek was the sole owner of the ship and business. There was only one person missing.

“
What happened to Llyr?” Rául asked.

“
He's in jail,” Tarek answered with a shrug. “Again.”

Llyr was the MAIDEN's translator. He could speak a dozen languages including most of the Pact planets dialects. Even better, as a Tuathaan he had plenty of contacts throughout the Pact, allowing the freighter to cut some corners off their journeys. Unfortunately, he also had a tendency to drink too much and get into trouble.

“The authorities will hand him over when we leave,” Alexej said. “They just want to get rid of him.”

“
Nothing worse than a drunken Tuathaan in an enclosed space,” Tarek snorted. “Especially if he starts singing.”

The four crew members shared a laugh. Tuathaan songs were loud, disharmonious, and seemingly endless odes to their clans and the shame of other clans.

“So, the job?” he brought the conversation back on topic.

“
Yeah, I tell ya, it's a great one, easy work and vast money,” Rául grinned. “Five hundred thousand credits a shipment! Can you believe it!?”

“
Depends on the shipment,” Tarek shrugged. It was a decent amount but it was far from making any of them rich.

“
And more than one shipment, too! We could get months of work out of this at five hundred grand a trip!” Rául enthused.

“
What and where?” Tarek pressed.

“
Ampleksa, in Érenni space,” Rául finally answered, holding up his hands. “Yeah, I know: it's a long way, but they only need us to run between that world and their other colony at Senfina, or maybe to Érenni itself.”

“
Akvô,” Annie corrected in her quiet voice. “The Érenni home world is called Akvô."

“
Whatever! Either way it's just a one corridor trip there and another one back! Easy money!” the young man smiled widely, obviously quite pleased with his find.

“
Pay isn't bad,” Alexej agreed. “And it's from an established government, not likely to rip us off.”

“
No,” Tarek stated flatly.

“
Ah, come on boss! It's a raider free zone and we can be there in less than eight weeks,” Rául pleaded. “It's a cushy number!”

“
You haven't seen the news lately, have you?” Tarek sighed, then looked at the shy looking girl opposite him. “Annie, what's been coming up in the newsfeeds the past days?”

“
The Ashani invasion of Toklamakun.”

“
A Dominion invasion,” he repeated. “You're the navigator Rául. Why don't you tell me which governments share a border with the Dominion?”

“
Among others? Now the Érenni,” he admitted.

“
And I think you'll find that not only is Ampleksa lucky enough to feature foldspace corridors directly connected to other Érenni colony systems, it's also linked to the Dominion's space by three very nice and stable corridors. Leading directly to Aeta, which fell earlier in the year and Toklamakun, which is currently home the largest concentration of scary-ass warships in the galaxy,” Tarek said with a cold glint in his eyes. “So, no: we aren't going.”

“
They want us to transport people,” Annie added. “To evacuate their colony in case of attack.”

“
Even more reason to stay the hell away,” the MAIDEN's captain replied firmly. “We aren't going to blunder into a war zone.”

“
Between Ampleksa and Senfina it's at most a five day round trip for us. That's like a hundred thousand a day! For months!” Rául pointed out.

“
We can't ignore that sort of cash,” Alexej agreed in his growling voice. “It's more than we'd make anywhere else and you know that, skipper.”

“
I know Llyr would agree. It's madness to let this go!” the young companion enthused.

Tarek frowned and stared down at his hands. He hadn't made a reputation by taking major risks. All right, he wasn't particularly scared of danger, but the Dominion was getting too unpredictable for his taste – and ever more aggressive. In his opinion it would only be a matter of time before they invaded somewhere big, and the Érenni seemed the logical choice. Tarek wasn't exactly keen to be in the neighborhood when that happened. However, even he had to admit the pay was pretty damn impressive and just about justified the risk. He also had the problem that, as an independent contractor, his crew wasn't bound to a given corporation. If they wanted they could just walk away and join a crew that
would
go the Érenni Republics. It was against his cautious nature, but he was out of options. He exhaled sharply. “Okay, fine. We'll go and take the contract.”

The rest of the crew grinned widely and Rául high-fived Alexej, deeply regretting it when the slap left his hand stinging.

“But,” Tarek cut in loudly. “But if I see so much as a Dominion scout probe we are out of there and running for home, got that?”

“
Got it, chief.” Rául was still grinning. “So, equal splits?”

“
The race gets first call as usual.” Tarek said, indicating that the needs of their ship had to be serviced first and refueled. “Then the rest will be equal split.”