| |
Minara, The Oracle
The green-gold planet glowed serenely against the velvet black of space, giving no visible indication of the gale force magnetic storm the Oracle was contending with. The solar wind buffeted the ship, making landing difficult and communication with the space port impossible.
"They aren't going to like us showing up without warning," the communications officer said.
Magnus sighed. "It's their planet. I'm sure they deal with this all the time. Just let them know we're inbound as soon as the weather allows."
"Aye, aye, sir." The man turned back to his instrument panel, frowning as he attempted to open a hailing frequency.
Suddenly, the Oracle shuddered, jerking and bucking so violently that three deck officers skidded across the floor and fetched up against the bridge's far wall.
"What the hell was that?" Magnus shouted.
"Incoming fire, sir."
"From what?"
Another volley struck the vessel's port side, sliding those who were just regaining their feet back the other direction.
"That!"
A razor thin fighter streaked across the front viewport.
"Looks like a Dagger class two. Evasive maneuvers, shields on full." Magnus gripped the arms of his chair as another barrage struck the Oracle.
"Shields at fifteen percent, sir. She hit us before we even knew she was there, took out the main power converter in the first assault. Weapon's system three, seven and nine are down."
"Which means our main cannons are down." Magnus swore in several languages.
There was a reason Dagger class ships were known as the space assassins. Their tiny profiles barely showed up on scans, and they were the fastest single unit fighters available. Couple those attributes with the solar interference, and it was no wonder they hadn't seen her.
"Divert power to the rear shields and get us the hell out of here." As Magnus spoke, the Dagger started another strafing run. The bridge controls lit up with deadly red light, leaping from panel to panel in jagged streaks. The shock wave knocked the navigations officer from her seat before slamming the communications and weapons officers to the deck.
The OPT doors slid open and Tessa burst in. "What can I do?" she asked.
"Check them out," Magnus said, pointing to the fallen officers as he yelled into a newly opened commlink. "Mayday, mayday. This is the Oracle." He gave their coordinates and requested help, then repeated the message.
"We copy, Oracle, and we are on the way." The voice was female, and brusque.
A light cruiser sprinted out of the dark, guns blazing. The Dagger returned fire briefly, then turned tail and ran.
"Attention Oracle, Minara atmospheric patrol here. We seem to have secured the situation for the moment. What is your condition?"
Magnus ran a quick damage report. "We are going to need some repairs, mostly to our shield systems, but we are still flight-worthy."
"An emergency berth has been arranged at Zephlon space port. Sending coordinates now. Do you require medical attention?"
"We have a doctor on board, but–" Magnus looked at Tessa. She had the communications officer sitting in his gel-chair.
"I can take care of him," she said. "But – I'm sorry Magnus. There was nothing I could do for them."
His chest hollowed out. Charles and Darai had been with him for the last five years. "No medical," he said after a moment. "But I'll need to access an intergalactic communications hub for at least two notifications."
The woman cleared her throat. "I am sorry for your loss, Captain. Can you follow us in?"
Magnus swallowed hard. "Yeah, we can do that." He collapsed into his seat and thumbed the internal comm. "All departments, report."
Information trickled in. Engineering had three wounded and one dead. Medical had escaped unscathed, but logistics had lost three with two more wounded.
The OPT swept open, this time to drop off two crewmen with medilevs. Tessa helped them move the bodies and watched as they disappeared back into the lift.
The Oracle wasn't a big ship, and most of her systems were automated. The bridge officers, a small medical team, logistics, and an engineering department were the limit of the ship's need for personnel. A sum total of twenty crew members, including himself and Tessa, now down by at least six. More than a quarter of his crew, dead in under five minutes.
"Tessa, can you go down and help medical? We only have one doc, and..."
"Of course. I need to check on the twins, but I'll do that on the way. Are you all right?"
"I–” He stopped, cleared his throat, tried again. "I will be, eventually."
She nodded and glanced at the communications officer. "I'll take him down to sick bay then, all right?"
Magnus nodded.
"I'll be fine, Ma'am," the officer said. He limped to the OPT with little trouble, and Tessa let him go. He wasn't bleeding and would probably be fit for duty again within a day or so.
She followed the man to the OPT, but turned to look around before getting on. The bridge was empty of everyone except herself and Magnus. She cleared her throat.
"If this is too soon to think about, let me know, but my first question is, who? Atah, or the HDL?"
He raised grim, dark eyes to hers. "I don't know. But I will find out. And when I do, they will truly wish I hadn't."
Three days later, the repairs to the Oracle were nearly complete. Tessa wished the authorities had made similar progress on the investigation. Though they assured Tessa and Magnus that they were doing everything, there had been nothing to go on.
Tessa gave the two human media interviews she had scheduled and then accompanied Magnus as he went on scouting expeditions of his own.
Neither his nor the official inquiry bore fruit. None of his contacts had seen a dagger class spacecraft, or if they had, they denied it.
Finding the attackers got less and less likely with each day, and Magnus's frustration grew in direct proportion.
"Nothing! They've done nothing to find the bastards that killed six of my crew!" His pacing threatened to wear a rut in the bedroom floor.
"They are doing everything they can, Magnus. There just aren't any leads." Tessa dismissed her airscreen, on which she'd been reading the latest report, and faced him. "I know how you feel–"
He glared at her. "Do you? When did you ever lose –" He faltered. "I'm sorry. You do know what this is like."
She reined in her own anger, allowing room for his. Both were justified, but it would do no good for them to tear each other apart over something neither could control. "I know you're frustrated," she said. "People you felt responsible for died, and there was nothing you could do about it. But Magnus, that isn't on you. Remember who the bad guys are here."
"If I knew that, they'd be dead by now."
"Understood. So, do you still want to check out that bar? I know it's a long shot, but–"
He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and slung it over his shoulders. "At least I'll get a drink out of it. Latarna knows I could use one."
The bar in question was a smugglers’ hotspot, known to Magnus from his privateering days. The Star and Cutlass hosted a broad array of shadow-loving clientele from across the region. Smugglers, pirates, fences, and the occasional assassin came here to share gossip, plan jobs, split their take, or hire out kills. Once in a while, they came just for a drink between jobs.
Tessa and Magnus were interested in the gossip end, but acknowledged they could get that information in any number of ways. Magnus was open to most of them at this point.
"Might be too soon to ask," Tessa said as they found a nominally clean table with a good view of both doors, front and back. "But have you thought about hiring new crewmembers?"
He signaled to a passing waitress and placed an order for two ales and a plate of Dorsan fritters. The waitress swayed toward the kitchen, but Magnus didn't seem to notice the ample backside she put on display, staring at the entrance instead.
"Not really. Xavier can fly the Oracle as well as almost any bio-organic pilot I've ever had, and in a pinch, I can man the weapons console." He raised a morose gaze to meet hers. "Or you could."
"True. What about the engineers and fi– other crew?" She'd been about to say fighters, but Magnus didn't call any of his people that. This despite the fact that every member of his crew wore a blaster on their hip and the Oracle had a well-stocked weapons magazine on every deck. Tessa shook her head. Magnus could call himself whatever he liked now, but in a former life, like Jordan, he'd been a pirate.
"Not here. I don't hire strangers or killers, and everyone in this place is one or the other... or both."
"Magnus Caravaggio, as I live and breathe. What are you doing here?" The voice came from behind Tessa, and it had a vaguely familiar, husky quality that she couldn't immediately place. She morphed the hand under the table into a blaster in response to a shadowy premonition of trouble to come.
But Magnus was smiling for the first time in days. "Yolanda! I'd ask you the same thing. When you disappeared on Josan, I thought sure they'd caught you, but none of the jails had you listed as a prisoner."
"Thanks for checking. But you have to know me better than that." The curvy redhead sauntered up to their table, spun a chair around on one leg and straddled the seat. "I wasn't in the valley when everything went to shit, but I was monitoring Josan security comms. When I heard about the raid, I just didn't go back."
Tessa frowned. "And you didn't think to check on your boss? Make sure he made it out?"
The green eyes flickered, their temperature plummeting. "In case you hadn't noticed, Magnus is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, as am I. Checking on him wouldn't have done any good, and probably would have gotten me caught, so no, I didn't." She turned a warmer gaze on Magnus. "I was a little disappointed when I couldn't find you after, though. Where did you go?"
Magnus slid Tessa a quick look before answering smoothly. "Oh, here and there. Hired on as personal security for a while. Met up with Tessa and now I'm working with her on a few things."
Their drinks arrived and Yolanda ordered one for herself.
"What kind of things?" she asked when the girl hustled off.
"Mostly working for G–"
"Val Demyanov started up a transport company. We're doing spec work for her," Tessa said.
Even in the noisy tavern, Yolanda's spurt of laughter drew attention. "You're a delivery boy now? Latarna's guts and garters. I never expected to see Captain Caravaggio bagging comestibles and rounding up strays."
"So far, our deliveries haven't included foodstuffs or runaways, but it might." Magnus smiled benignly as he spoke, but Tessa caught the glint in his eye. "How long have you been in port?"
Yolanda shifted in her seat. "A few days. I was planning on heading out the same day, but the crystal assembly on my ship developed a crack on reentry. I'm waiting for parts."
Magnus loosed a bark of laughter. "Here? Even if it does come in, the piece is more likely to get stolen than delivered."
Her grin fading, Yolanda accepted the mug from the waitress and stared into it morosely. "Don't I know it?" She brightened. "How long are you going to be here?"
Magnus leaned back in his chair, a speculative gleam in his eye. He glanced at Tessa, and she shrugged.
"What would you say to signing on with me?" he asked Yolanda. "I'm short a few crew members. I wasn't going to hire here, for obvious reasons. But those don't apply to you."
A jaw-cracking grin split Yolanda's face in half. "I'm in."
Intuition twitched under Tessa's right eye. "What about your ship? Leave it here and you'll be lucky to have spare parts left by the time you return."
Frowning, Yolanda turned to her. "True." The frown melted away. "Give me an hour, though, and it won't be a problem. I'll join you on the Oracle with a sack of cash and a full magazine."
Slapping his knee, Magnus drained his mug. "Solves two problems at one blow. Drive a hard enough bargain, and you'll be able to buy a new ship when we hit port again."
