Starship: Mercenary (Starship, Book 3) (2 page)

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Authors: Mike Resnick

BOOK: Starship: Mercenary (Starship, Book 3)
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“But you
are
alive,” protested Copperfield. “So clearly it was a good bargain. Two million Maria Theresa dollars for guarding Barios II against potential attack during the Jewelers’ Exhibition.”
“Damn it, David, there was nothing
potential
about that attack!” growled Cole. “They knew we were there, they knew what armaments we had, they knew what we were and weren’t capable of doing. If Val and Four Eyes hadn’t done things nobody’s supposed to do with our shuttlecrafts, we’d be orbiting the goddamned planet in a billion pieces right now.”
“I
could
get you an assignment protecting small schoolchildren from playground bullies,” offered the dapper alien, “but it wouldn’t pay your expenses.”
“Shut up,” said Cole.
David Copperfield fell silent.
“We’re going to have to make a few changes in how we operate,” continued Cole.
“You mean the ship?”
“I mean you and me. I can’t let you keep endangering us the way you’ve been doing.”
“But you have been victorious!” protested Copperfield. “So I am not endangering you.”
“We’re operating with half the crew this ship needs, we can’t go into the Republic for repairs or supplies, we still don’t have a doctor on board . . .”
“And you have overcome every one of those obstacles,” noted Copperfield. “I don’t understand why you are so upset.”
“Then why were you hiding inside a bulkhead?” demanded Cole.
Copperfield paused, considering his answer. “It was cozy?”
A burst of feminine laughter echoed through the small office, and a moment later the holographic image of Sharon Blacksmith appeared, hovering over Cole’s desk.
“That’s a good one, David!” she said, still laughing. “I hope you don’t mind if I play it for the entire crew. If you ever get tired of being . . . well, whatever it is you’re being, you can always get work as a comedian.”
“You were listening?” asked Copperfield.
“I’m the Chief of Security,” answered Sharon. “Of course I was listening. There is an excellent chance that our glorious leader is going to strangle you before you leave his office, and such an action really requires a witness.”
“Strangle me?” scoffed Copperfield. “We’ve been friends since we were in boarding school together.”
“David, I really think you’re losing it,” said Sharon. “The two of you never met until last year. You are not old school chums. You are not even a human being, and your real name isn’t David Copperfield. You are—or at least you were—the biggest fence on the Inner Frontier. Now, I know that’s unpleasant, but those are the facts.”
“Facts are the enemy of truth!” snapped Copperfield. “Do you think I’d have shown Steerforth how to avoid a lifetime of piracy if we hadn’t been lifelong friends? Do you think I’d have enticed the Hammerhead Shark to my world if I weren’t doing a favor for a classmate? Do you think I’d have turned my back on everything I’d been and come away with you if we didn’t share a special bond?”
Cole and Sharon exchanged looks. “I’ll take it from here,” he said, and her image vanished. “David, you enticed the Shark to Riverwind because you didn’t have any choice, and you came away with me because half a dozen different pirates were all out for your head.”
“Well, that too,” admitted Copperfield.
“Do you want me to return you to Riverwind?”
“No, certainly not. They might still be looking for me there.”
“Would you like me to set you down on the next colony world we come to?”
“No.”
“Fine. But if you’re staying aboard the
Teddy R
, we’re going to need some new ground rules.”
“Surely you don’t want to go back to piracy,” said Copperfield.
“No,” replied Cole. “We’re a military ship and a military crew. We were uniquely unfit to be pirates. I’m surprised we lasted almost a whole year at it.” He paused. “We can’t go back to the Republic. There’s still a price on my head, and a huge reward for the capture or destruction of the
Teddy R
, so we’ll practice our military trade here on the Frontier, as mercenaries.”
“Which is precisely what I suggested to you two months ago,” said Copperfield.
“I know, and it was a good suggestion—but we’d like to live long enough to enjoy what we earn. Twice in a row now you’ve chosen the best price without considering what we had to do to earn it. The
Teddy R
is not a dreadnought. It’s a century-old ship that should have been decommissioned seventy-five years ago, except that the Republic kept getting into one war after another. There probably aren’t a thousand ships in the Republic’s fleet of almost two million that can’t outrun and outgun us. One-on-one we can probably take just about any independent ship on the Inner Frontier—but you keep putting us in situations that
aren’t
one-on-one. We’ve been lucky, but we can’t
stay
lucky. So from now on, you bring every offer to me, and I will decide whether or not we accept it.”
“But that hurts my credibility, to say nothing of my bargaining position.”
“It doesn’t hurt it as much as a laser blast, or a pulse ray, or slow torture, all of which almost certainly await you if you keep putting us into these situations.”
“How did you get to be the most decorated officer in the fleet with that attitude?” said Copperfield bitterly.
“He is the most decorated officer
out
of the fleet,” said Sharon’s disembodied voice, “to say nothing of its most-wanted criminal. We’re all proud of him, even if he’s the reason none of us can ever go home again.”
“You shut up too,” said Cole. He turned back to Copperfield. “That’s it, David. You will bring every offer to me for my approval—and I have to know more than what they’re paying; I have to know everything that might happen, starting with why someone is paying enough for us to consider accepting the job in the first place. If you can’t get the information I need, then either I or one of my officers will speak directly to the supplicant to determine the full range of possible dangers we might face.”
“That emasculates my position,” protested Copperfield.
“Oh, I like that word,” said Sharon.
“It makes me little more than an errand boy,” continued the alien.
“We tried it your way, and we’re luckier to be alive than I think you’ll ever realize,” said Cole. “Now we do it my way.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“It’s your decision. We can always use another gunnery sergeant.”
“But I’ll give it a try,” said Copperfield hastily.
“All right,” said Cole. “You’ll still be our point man, you’ll still make the contacts. The Republic’s still got huge rewards posted for me, Four Eyes, and Sharon, and there’s a couple of dozen worlds that want Val dead or alive—and those two men and the alien we picked up on Cyrano all have prices on their heads. You’re about the only one who can leave the ship with a reasonable chance of returning unappre hended. So tell Christine or whoever’s working the bridge where you want to go next, and we’ll take you there—but you no longer have the authority to commit us to a mission. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Steerforth.” Pause. “I mean, yes, Wilson.”
“All right. We’re done. You can leave.” The alien turned and walked to the door. “And David?”
“Yes, Steerforth?”
“The next time you try hiding from me inside a bulkhead, I’m going to have the panel fused into place.”
“You knew?” asked Copperfield, surprised.
“The man has spies everywhere,” said Sharon’s voice. “It’s positively fiendish.”
Copperfield left without another word.
“So, you want to meet me in the mess hall for coffee?” asked Sharon, her image appearing again.
“Not yet,” said Cole. “Send Four Eyes to me. I need a damage report.”
“What about Christine and Val?” asked Sharon. “After all, they
are
your Second and Third Officers.”
“First Four Eyes, then coffee, then a nap, then the rest of the damages. We’re still functioning, we still have air, we still have gravity, and we sure as hell know our weapons work. Everything else can wait.”
“Including your love life?” she asked with a smile.
“Take a tranquilizer,” he replied. “I’ve got captainly things to do.”
“I don’t
want
a tranquilizer.”
“Fine. Pay a visit to David. He’ll explain to you that we’re old school chums and we share everything.”
“Seven thousand, one hundred and forty-five,” said Sharon.
“What’s that supposed to be?”
“The number of nights you’re sleeping alone for that remark.”
2
 
Forrice, the burly, three-legged Molarian First Officer, spun down the corridor with surprising grace, waited for the Spy-Eye above the door to Cole’s office to identify him, and entered.
“That was nice work you did today, Four Eyes,” said Cole.
“I thought so too,” replied Forrice. “Shuttles weren’t made for those kinds of maneuvers.” He paused. “I see we lost the
Alice
.”
“Yeah,” said Cole. “Teddy Roosevelt would never forgive us. We’ve lost three of his kids—
Quentin
,
Archie
, and
Alice
. The only original shuttle we have left is the
Kermit
.”
“The two new ones—the
Edith
and the
Junior
—did pretty well,” said the Molarian. “The Valkyrie put the
Edith
through maneuvers that should have broken it in half.”
“I know. But she was lucky. So were you.”
“I’d rather be lucky than good.”
“I’d rather be safe than either,” said Cole. “What’s the injury list like?”
“Some burns, some breaks, everyone’s alive. I wish we had a medic.”
“We’re supposed to have two—one for humans, one for non-humans,” said Cole. “Problem is, we’ve been so busy getting shot at that we haven’t had time to hunt up anyone who can patch us up.” He paused. “How about the ship? What kind of damage did it sustain?”
“Well, it’s still running,” said Forrice. “I’ve got Slick out there now, walking the exterior, checking it out.”
“I don’t know what we’d do without him,” said Cole, referring to the ship’s sole Tolobite, a unique alien that, protected by its symbiotic Gorib, which acted as a protective second skin, was able to function in the airless cold of space for hours at a time.
“Every ship ought to have a Tolobite,” agreed the Molarian. “Have you killed David yet?” he added pleasantly.
“The thought has crossed my mind.”
“Where the hell did those five ships come from?” continued Forrice. “I thought we were preparing for a couple of class-H vessels—an easy day’s work.”
“It’s as much my fault as his,” said Cole. “There are close to two thousand mining worlds on the Inner Frontier. You have to figure a jewelers’ convention will draw every fucking thief for five hundred light-years. I should have figured they were sugar-coating the threat for David so he wouldn’t ask a higher price.”
“He’s a fence, not a military man,” agreed Forrice. “If you trust him again, it’ll happen again.”
“I know. From this moment on, all he is is a conduit. He brings offers to me, and I say yes or no.”
“I can live with that,” said Forrice. “Longer, if not richer.”
“The convention’s over tomorrow,” said Cole. “We’re obligated to stay on call until then, though I don’t imagine there’ll be another attack. Tomorrow, when the planet’s rotated enough so that the convention’s on the nightside, take Bull Pampas and a couple of other formidable-looking crewmen and collect our money.”
“Val’s the most formidable of all,” noted the Molarian. “There’s not a man or alien on board she can’t whip without working up a sweat—including Bull.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Cole. “But if they’re reluctant to come up with the money, you’ll threaten to shoot ’em all and eventually they’ll pay what they owe. If I send
her
down and they’re slow to produce the money, she’ll kill them all.”
“She would at that,” agreed Forrice. “I suppose that’s the benefit of a nonmilitary education.” He emitted a few hoots of alien laughter at his own observation. “Still, she probably saved the ship today.”
“It wasn’t the first time, it won’t be the last,” said Cole. “That’s why she’s here.”
“She’s the only one who looks fresh and ready to fight again,” observed Forrice. “If she was a Molarian, I’d stick around for years until she came into season.”
“Spare me your sexual obsessions,” said Cole. “It’s been a long day.”
Suddenly the ship shuddered.
“And about to get longer,” muttered Forrice. “I’m off to the bridge.”
“No,” said Cole. “Get down to Gunnery and make sure everything’s working. I’ll go to the bridge.”

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