Dark Ice (Mercenaries Book 2) Page 3

  "I could use target practice..." Viola replied.

  "You might get some," Puk beeped.

  "What does that mean?"

  "I've been scanning the radio frequencies," Puk said. "Standard Eden protocols for a mission like this suggest the two ships should be in constant communication, updating each other on progress, plans, and so on. Since we've been in system, there hasn't been a peep. Radio silence."

  "Maybe it's direct, tight-beam."

  "But why? There's nobody else here. Sending a direct communication means hitting the ship directly. Much easier to blast it out on a standard channel. It's what they're for."

  "You and your logic," Viola said, but the bot had a point. "Keep listening and let me know if you hear anything."

  "You got it, Viola."

  In the Jumper's main hold, Viola and Opal joined Davin and Mox around the ramp. Trina and Erick were manning the Jumper's twin turrets in case the whole thing turned out to be an ambush. Merc in the Viper, ready to flip itself around and blow a path through the freighter from the inside out. When the Jumper settled into the freighter's docking bay, part of Viola almost hoped for an angry greeting, just so she could see what would happen. Davin glanced at her then, as though he could hear her thoughts, and Viola felt herself blush.

  "Just let me do the talking," Davin said to her.

  "Yep," Viola said, lowering her eyes. Dammit. Here she was trying to keep cool, be a professional, and she goes with yep.

  The ramp lowered quickly, a pop as the plating disengaged and then a steady hiss as gas propelled the ramp downward. Davin was the first one on it, holding his hand for everyone else to stay back.

  "Your captain has a death wish, doesn't he?" Puk said, hovering behind Viola. "You've got Mox standing right there, guy could take a dozen shots without getting hurt, and you don't let him go first?"

  "Shut it," Viola muttered.

  Then Davin was waving them forward. Viola took third, Opal shifting, with her long and thin sniper, to aim past them. She needn't have bothered. The only people in the bay were a few haggard-looking crew, and one wearing the cream-colored uniform of the ship's leader. None of them armed. The captain, a man whose cratered face told tale after tale of trouble, watched the Nines walk the ramp in silence.

  "Davin Masters,” Davin said, extending his hand. "We're the Wild Nines. What can we do for you?"

  "Captain Gage Marcosi,” The older man said, grasping Davin's offered palm. "And you can get my ship back."

  9

  Picking the Crew

  The Karat blurred in the middle of a storm of blue static. They gathered in the Amerigo's sole meeting space, a square room dominated by a central table and a wall-conquering screen. Traces of food, Davin noticed it was the same powdery stuff they had on the Jumper, said the room served as the cafeteria in more crowded times. The Nines crew, their weapons on the table in front or holstered at their sides, and the freighter's captain were sitting, staring at the Karat.

  "We can't get a better picture. The winds are too strong, and she's been sitting in that storm ever since," Gage said.

  "Ever since?" Phyla said.

  "We sent her down," Gage replied. "Made it to the objective, reports were solid. Ice diamonds were getting captured. Until she got quiet. Then that storm moved in and the Karat released its tether. The last few days its just been blowing along with the wind."

  "Sounds like a rough ride," Merc said.

  "How come it hasn't broken up?" Opal asked.

  "Design,” The captain said. "The Karat's a miracle. It can take those thousand kilometer an hour winds and let them glide right around it. Partly why Eden's going through all the trouble with you. A normal ship that size wouldn't be worth trying to save in this situation, but the Karat's something special."

  "What situation?" Davin said.

  "You notice there's nobody else in this room besides your crew and I?" The captain said.

  Davin hadn't. But, looking around, he saw the doors were shut. The only people his own.

  "I can't trust them," The captain continued. "Because some of them took the Karat. And I don't know who here, if anyone, is still with us."

  There was a second of silence as this sunk in, followed by a series of rapid weapon checks. Davin understood now why the captain hadn't asked them to leave their guns on the Jumper. They could be ambushed at any moment. Which meant . . .

  "Erick, Trina, you read?" Davin spoke into his comm.

  "Here," The physician's voice came through clear.

  "Seal the ship," Davin said. "Not everyone around here's a friend. They're not necessarily enemies either, but until we know who is what, I don't want anyone thinking they've got free access to the Jumper."

  "Just when I was going for a walk . . ." Erick said.

  "Not this time," Davin said, then cut the call.

  "Captain," Viola said. "Are you sure this room is safe?"

  "You mean, is someone listening to us?" Gage said, leaning back in his chair and looking towards the ceiling. "If the enemy cared enough, perhaps. You're sitting on a cargo freighter, miss. There's little need for surveillance here. So they would have had to install devices on their own."

  "Take no chances," Mox said.

  "But I will ask that you take one," Gage replied. "We need the Karat back, and we have to do it fast. If someone here tells that ship you're on your way, the Karat can, and will, run."

  "What's your plan?" Merc said. "So far, all I've heard is that you couldn't keep your own crew from turning traitor and now we're caught up in it."

  "You're being paid to get Eden out of this mess," Gage said, giving Merc a level stare. "We have a utility shuttle on board. Meant to get crew to and from the Karat. You'll use that to go to Neptune, land on the Karat, and take her back."

  "I thought you said those winds were over a thousand kilometers an hour down there?" Phyla said. "There's no way a standard shuttle can handle that."

  "The winds flow in bands. A good pilot can get around them. I assume one of you is capable enough?" Gage replied.

  "We can handle it," Davin said. "How many can we take?"

  Gage pressed a button on his comm and the feed on the screen changed to a crisp, clear image of the wedge-shaped shuttle. "It'll only hold five people. Four if any of them are you."

  The captain turned to Mox as he spoke.

  "So we're splitting up," Davin said. "One team goes on a rescue mission, the rest stay here and play guess the traitor?"

  Gage nodded. He wasn't trying to hide the situation. Davin had to give him that much.

  "Mox, Phyla, Opal and I will go to Neptune," Davin started.

  "I can't," Phyla cut in.

  "What? Who's going to pilot the shuttle?"

  "Who's going to pilot the Jumper?" Phyla replied. "Merc has to stay too. The Karat's been sitting in that wind storm. Why aren't they running? Because they have to have help coming. We'll have to deal with that."

  "I can fly it," Viola said. "The shuttle, I mean. I've flown my dad's ships before."

  "The kid's got talent," Merc said. "We've tangoed in the sims."

  Davin looked at Viola, trying to get a measure. He knew she was barely in her twenties, barely used to space, and now he would trust her to fly them into Neptune's raging storms?

  "You think you're ready for this?" Davin asked. "Cause now's your chance. You can't say no down there, when we're depending on you."

  Could call that cruel, putting the spotlight on Viola. But better to test her mettle now, up here, than find out she wasn't ready when things went sideways.

  "I'm ready," Viola said, matching Davin's look with a straight-stare of her own.

  "Fine," Davin nodded. "Mox, Viola, Opal and I are going down. The rest of you, try to get this freighter as laser-proof as it can be."

  As they walked back to the Jumper to gear up, Davin didn't hear any grumbling. No talk about how scared anyone was, how dangerous it would be. How he'd lucked into a crew like this, Davin didn't know, but he
sure as hell was grateful.

  10

  Split

  Back on the Jumper, Davin threw on his gear. A pair of holstered handguns, ready to spit stunning or deadly lasers as the situation demanded, a beat-up, thick gray jacket to take the sting out of return fire. Pants with loops and pockets to hold the variety of tools and first aid Davin carried whenever he went on a ground mission. And Melody, a fireball shotgun, designed to launch orbs of heat to immolate targets.

  All the weapons on the Jumper relied on energy, plasma, fire, the things that could be absorbed by the ship's walls without blowing a hole through to space on a missed shot. Too many stories of idiots with bullets shooting their way to vacuum.

  "Looking loaded," Phyla said as Davin's door opened.

  "Ever knock?" Davin said to Phyla, who came in and leaned against the wall, watching him.

  "With you? Never," Phyla said. "You think this is a good idea?"

  "You talking about my outfit, or the mission?"

  "Either, really," But Phyla wasn't smiling.

  "No, I don't want to split the team. But it happens, and I don't see a way around it."

  "Last time we were in this spot, about to invade Europa, I tried to talk you out of running," Phyla said. "But that was for us. To clear our names. This is just a job."

  "A good paying one," Davin said. "Which we could use."

  "I'm just saying that if you pull us apart, and everything goes to hell, then I won't be able to help you."

  "You're saying I'm the one that'll need help?" Davin said.

  "Yes," Phyla said.

  Davin noticed they were both of them were standing in the center of the small quarters. Which, wow, did this room ever feel tiny. As though the both of them took up the entire space. Everywhere he looked, Phyla was there. He could hear her breathing, and his heart pulsed.

  Davin blinked. Pull yourself together, man.

  "Look, it won't be long. We'll be back and heading home before you know it," Davin said.

  "Where is home to you?" Phyla said, and when Davin didn't answer right away, continued. "Because to me it's here on this ship, with Mox, and Trina, and Merc, Opal, Erick, Viola and you."

  "Then don't let anything happen to it while I'm gone."

  Phyla reached out, grabbed Davin's forearm.

  "I'm not kidding," Phyla said. "I don't want to lose this for some stupid coin."

  "Me either," Davin replied, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, like forming words in water. Phyla's hand on his arm a light touch, with tenderness lacking from all the times they'd hauled each other out of harm's way. Davin glanced at that hand, tight from weeks in the dry confines of space, but strong. "Keep her safe. Keep them safe."

  Phyla took a breath, nodded, and pulled her hand away. With her touch fading, Davin felt the atmosphere changing. The pressure receding, and suddenly he was looking at Phyla's half-cocked smile.

  "I already told Mox he'd better get you all back alive," Phyla said. "And he promised."

  "Well, now I feel better."

  "Don't make it hard for him to keep it," Phyla said, turning and walking out the door.

  Davin watched the space where she stood, then shook his head. The last thing he needed right now, before he sped into to the depths of the blue planet, was emotion cluttering his mind. Turning to the bed, he picked up Melody, threw the strap over his shoulder, and left. The door shut with a hiss and click. Davin wondered if he'd ever see it again.

  11

  Descent

  The shuttle was an oval with wings that could fold out from the top. Viola stopped, bumped by Davin walking behind. She recognized the shuttle's model, an older Galaxy Forge variant. Knocked out of production when liquid fuels were phased out, explosive tendencies not being ideal for space travel. Flying this would be a walk back through time, to when she was a kid watching bright pillars of flame roar across the sky as ships blasted off of Ganymede. Now, there weren't loud explosions. No plumes of smoke and flame. Just the silent, massive thrust of electricity.

  It sat in a secondary bay so cluttered with supplies, tubes going to and from fuel tanks, and crates with labels like Food - Last, indicating when it should be eaten, that Viola watched her feet for fear of tripping. The captain, claiming to passing crew he was seeing the Nines off in person, led the group through the mess to the shuttle. As they stepped in front of it, the captain tapped a code into a small panel on the side of the shuttle and a door opened next to it, shooting up and allowing a small set of stairs to flop to the bay floor.

  "I'm guessing Eden's budget doesn't go to their shuttles," Davin said.

  "I've kept her intentionally. She's reliable. Well-made," Gage replied. "Time the winds and you'll do fine."

  "Easy for you to say up here," Opal chimed in. The sniper had been throwing hard stares at everyone after Davin called the split. Viola kept expecting Opal to talk it out, to argue, but she never did. Viola knew Opal had been military, maybe she was used to orders she didn't like.

  "As Davin said before, this is only a contract. You don't have to help. But if you don't, any loyal crew members down there will die. And when they come for the Amerigo, we will likely die as well," Gage said.

  "Not helping," Mox grumbled.

  "It's not our fault you can't trust your crew," Davin added. "But we're going. Viola, get in there and see if you can fly this thing."

  With Puk buzzing behind her, Viola climbed up the stairs and into the cramped shuttle. The inside was spare, a functional blandness. Every corner marked with a sign showing its purpose and the nearest possible exit, of which there were four. Two of those, however, involved popping off sections of the front and rear, ruining the craft. The third was a small portal out of the roof that was likewise unusable while the shuttle's wings were extended. Arrayed around the interior, hanging behind four fixed chairs and a table that could be a bed for medical procedures, were slim suits for space-walks or zero-G escapes.

  "Cozy," Puk buzzed

  "Makes the Jumper look like luxury," Viola replied.

  To the right was the cockpit, the left held a small passage to the engines for maintenance. There were two seats, padded in black and sturdy, filling the cockpit. The screen was a far fling from the Jumper's consoles and projection-based cockpit glass. The shuttle had a single monitor in a three-section terminal, otherwise covered in a forest of analog switches and dials. Viola hadn't ever seen a setup this outdated. Everything she'd been in used context-based screens to show the controls that mattered in the moment. On newer ships, only in manual override would the screens slide up and the ugly innards become usable.

  "This looks like it'll be a challenge," Viola muttered.

  "But you can fly it?" Davin said from behind her, looking past her at the array.

  "Technically, I think so," Viola said, settling into the pilot's chair and grazing over the controls. "So long as we don't try to do anything too fancy."

  "That's the idea," Davin said, then he stepped out to help Mox and Opal load.

  "Feel like that's never how it goes with this group," Puk said.

  "Maybe this one time we'll catch a break," Viola replied.

  Another ten minutes of frantic learning passed while the other Nines fueled the shuttle, loaded their gear, and opened the bay door. A few of the Amerigo's crew made an appearance, moving through the bay and shifting cargo out of the way. Wouldn't be a good thing if the shuttle's engines ignited something on the way out.

  Viola dialed up the flight computer and zeroed in on the Karat. The Amerigo's more powerful sensors fed data into the shuttle's computer, so it wasn't hard to see where the Karat was and where it would be. Assuming the Karat didn't have much propulsion left, they should be able to find an intercept course that would . . .

  But those winds. Neptune wasn't resting easy right now. If the Amerigo's weather data was correct, several huge storms were swirling around the Karat right now. Winds in the hundreds and hundreds of kilometers per hour. Take this flimsy shuttle into any of
them and it would spin around and fly apart. Viola looked closer at the directions of the storms. They formed a lopsided triangle, with the Karat stuck on the inner edge of the leading storm. Only, that leading one was moving fast, and the storm behind it was drifting. There was a window forming. The console projected the opening would last a few hours. Enough time to dock, transfer fuel from the shuttle packed onto the Karat, and blast out of there.

  "We have a shot," Viola announced over the shuttle's comm. "But we have to leave now."

  "Then let's go," Davin replied, squeezing into the cockpit's second chair. "Opal and Mox are ready to go. And I'd rather not give any lingering traitors a chance to mess with our trip."

  "OK, hold on," Viola said, punching the ignition sequence. The shuttle jerked as its small landing jets shot to life, lifting the oval a meter up. Viola gripped the flight stick, not a sturdy dual-handed grip but a single shaft like the ones in fighters. A gentle push to the left and the shuttle turned in the bay, spinning around until the open doors and the blue vastness of Neptune sat in front. With her left hand, Viola pushed up on the sliding bar that controlled the throttle. The main engines crackled to life, but at such low power that Viola hoped any remaining crew weren't torched.

  The shuttle eased its way forward, past the junk, under the bay doors, and then out. Free of the freighter and floating through space. Immediately, as they left the freighter's artificial gravity, Viola's stomach performed flip flops. The shuttle maintained the smallest amount of stabilization, enough to keep Viola from floating away if she had to walk around, but so light it still felt like she could flutter away with the slightest breeze.

  The monitor beeped at her, stating that Viola had to correct her course or she'd miss the intercept.

  "Stay focused, kid," Davin said. "I know it's pretty, but we can appreciate the view on the way home."