No Graves for Heroes Read online

  No one offered a response.

  “Joking,” said Costas with a big grim. “We can’t joke here?”

  “No,” said Lin. He had a deadly serious look on his face.

  Costas winked and made a kissing motion with his lips. Lin scowled and looked away.

  “Would now be a good time to discuss the disturbing messages coming out of Joint Operations Command?” asked Cheng. As he spoke, little wisps of mist trickled out of his nose.

  “What are you hearing?” asked Silva.

  “They’ve finished analyzing the wreckage of the Yang Liwei and there is suspicion that one or more ships from the hangar are missing.”

  “Expected,” said Silva. “They have no idea where we are. If they did, we’d be dead by now.”

  “Where’s the Dragon Armada, currently?” asked Costas.

  “Passing the Belt,” said McKenzie, eager to look useful, “on their way back to Jupiter for drills, before the celebration.”

  “They’re of no threat to us.” Silva waved dismissively. “The admirals are scared shitless of anything going wrong with the grand formation. Earth could explode and they wouldn’t care. Plus, they just executed the commander of the Dongfeng for negligence in losing the emperor’s new ship.”

  “Why?” asked Cheng.

  “Because, the ship was technically still hers,” said Silva. “The navy had not taken ownership of it yet. That was going to happen the following day. Good riddance. I never liked the bitch, anyway.”

  McKenzie felt a twinge of sorrow for Commander Yan. But she was collateral damage and there was nothing he could do for her now.

  Silva continued. “We’ll continue to monitor all channels for signs that they are sending out sorties to look for us. In the meantime, I recommend you get your gear stowed and prepped.”

  The group stood and filed out. Silva stayed behind. He waited for the last man to leave before closing the door. He stared at McKenzie.

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” said Silva. “I’m running the operation, here. Not you. You’re nothing more than a shuttle to get us from A to B. I don’t give a damn about what Rota says about your authority aboard ship. I’ve been running ops since before your daddy scooped you up and ran away. You may be Chinese by that uniform, but you’re an American by birth. I don’t trust you. This is the big one. Our targets represent an immediate threat to the success of this coup.”

  McKenzie’s muscles tightened. This was his moment to assert his command authority.

  Silva took a step closer and narrowed his eyes. “We clear, little Yankee boy?”

  McKenzie’s father had raised him with stories of Old America as he called it, fraught with racism and an unspoken social cast system. Silva was clearly trying to provoke a response. He’d dealt with insolent crew members before, who’d looked down at him for not being full-blooded Chinese. In his experience there was only one way to deal with people like this.

  “Well?” asked Silva. He was only a few inches away from McKenzie, so close he could smell the man’s sour breath.

  “About that,” said McKenzie.

  The boxer in him snapped to life. He looked away for a second, before ripping an uppercut into Silva’s jaw. He knew the moment his knuckles met bone, Silva had gotten the message. But he wanted to make sure. As the old man staggered backward, McKenzie drove his other fist into Silva’s broad chest.

  Silva let out an oof as the wind left his lungs. He staggered once more before falling over a chair behind him.

  McKenzie pounced, bending his back against the chair while pressing his hand to Silva’s mouth and pushing up on his nose.

  “Seems we have a misunderstanding,” said McKenzie. “I’m the shot caller while you’re on my ship. You’re a messenger. That’s it. And I’m not a fucking Yankee. I’m an officer in the imperial navy.”

  Silva responded with gasps for air against the hand over his mouth. McKenzie put more pressure under Silva’s nose. Any farther and the cartilage would snap.

  With wide crazy eyes, McKenzie barked, “We clear, messenger boy?”

  Silva tried to nod.

  McKenzie removed his hand and pulled Silva to his feet. The room was silent, save for Silva’s gasps for air. A sheen of sweat glazed his forehead.

  McKenzie turned to walk out. “You forget your manners again and I’ll space you. And, if I see you near a weapon without my express permission, I’ll kill you where you stand.”

  With that, he left Silva to catch his breath and consider becoming a team player.

  “Place is a fucking zoo,” said Axel as he watched a travel show about Pangaea.

  The host, a former model turned forgettable travel personality, led the viewers through a park called the Roman Gardens. She wove through fantastic ruins of marble buildings, covered in ivy and teeming with artificial animals, like lions, bears and elephants. She skipped more than walked, letting her glowing blue dreadlocks bounce all over the place as she got more and more excited to show off the “sumptuous fountains.” A dolphin jumped up as she sat on the edge of a pool. She kissed it. Axel wondered if she would kiss a real dolphin.

  In the background, skyscrapers soared toward the protective domes. Sky bridges connecting them. A moment later, the host gestured at the antique replica cars guests could rent to drive to their next extravagant destination.

  “Ooo, is that where you’re taking me?” asked Devon.

  Axel turned to see she’d snuck into the room. She was disturbingly quiet.

  “Don’t you have files on this place?” he asked.

  “I do, but I’m supposed to be your wife. Right? Isn’t this the way I’d react?”

  Axel sighed. “I guess. Although if you were a real wife, you might say something to the effect of ‘that looks too expensive,’ or ‘I don’t like this place, what about Hong Kong, or New London.’ Something like that.”

  “They don’t do that. Do they?”

  “Some do. The good ones say, ‘Oh, thanks, honey. When do we leave?’”

  “How many have you had?”

  “A few. More of the former than the later.” Axel didn’t want to talk about ex-wives. He changed the subject. “Do you have detailed maps of this place?”

  She flashed him a crooked grin in response. “Only of the publicly available places. The staff areas, not at all. We might be able to get those when we get there, if I can locate a staff or maintenance network.”

  “Make that a priority. This place might as well be a city unto itself. Last thing we want is to get lost if the shooting starts.”

  “Speaking of that, there is a significant amount of news regarding that Chinese ship, the Yang Liwei. I’ve gathered what I could.”

  “Like what?”

  “They say it was the result of a—”

  “Let me guess, a training accident?”

  “How did you know?”

  “That’s what they always say, all governments, when they want to avoid embarrassment. Somebody fucked up. I don’t know who and I don’t care why. I just want to get these idiot kids and get home.”

  Captain Danso’s voice came over the ship’s intercom. “We’re approaching the Coinjock Shipyard now.”

  Axel put down his datapad and stood up. “You might want to see this. This place is pretty wild. It’s a ship graveyard.”

  A few moments later, Axel and Devon stood on the bridge, gazing at the main monitor. The Russian bodies were gone, fired out of an airlock. But there was still a tension in the air between Captain Danso, his crew, and Axel. He didn’t care, Danso was being paid to do a job.

  “Steady as she goes,” said Danso. “Five percent thrust.”

  The shipyard stretched for kilometers in all directions. It bristled with maintenance pods, antenna arrays and crew quarters. Construction crane arms stuck out like an insect’s legs.

  “Is there anyone here?” Devon asked.

  “No,” said Captain Danso, without looking up. “We might see some scavengers, but this place was aban
doned a long time ago.”

  Sections of honeycomb build bays housed the skeletons of derelict cargo haulers, battle cruisers, and survey drones. As the Zulu Dancer drifted past the bays, Axel noticed several EU ships from the solar war, their metal hulls ripped open from railgun fire and rocket damage. Several had scorch marks from plasma fires.

  There were no other ships in the vicinity as the shipyard had been abandoned for decades. Eventually, they passed another ship and Axel recognized the tail number of the USS Heinz.

  So, this is where she ended up, he thought.

  He could make out the groove along her starboard side where the Barroso slammed into her.

  “Jesus,” he blurted out.

  This startled several of the bridge crew.

  “What?” asked Devon.

  The ghosts of dead friends came roaring back. A tear rolled down Axel’s cheek. “Nothing. Just…that was the last American ship I served on.”

  He could see her staring at his chest, probably surmising that was where he got his scars from.

  Captain Danso looked over at Axel. Their eyes met. And in that moment, Axel knew Danso had seen combat as well. Danso gave a slight nod.

  “Do you want us to stop?” asked Danso.

  “No,” said Axel. “Let’s do what we came here for.”

  Danso turned back to the monitor. “There it is,” he pointed. “Docking bay ninety-four. Bring us up to that, Helmsman.”

  “Can we hail Javelin?” asked Axel.

  “I was given the strictest of instructions not to have any radio contact with him,” said Danso.

  “Great,” said Axel. Walking blind into a rendezvous like this made him uneasy. He didn’t even know what the man or woman looked like.

  The ship maneuvered into the bay and shuttered as the gantry arms extended and locked into the universal latches.

  “So, we just go in there and meet Javelin?” asked Devon.

  “I guess so,” said Axel. He turned to Captain Danso. “Is there life support on this thing?”

  “We are activating this section’s artificial intelligence now. But you might want to use space suits when you go inside.”

  Axel watched as one of the bridge crew sent commands to the shipyard’s computers. The screen displayed several green icons alongside one red. The crewman turned to the captain. “Gravity activated, sir. No way to know if life support is online.”

  “I’ll take a suit,” said Axel. He wasn’t messing around with iffy life support. “Where are they?”

  Captain Danso pointed to a hallway, off the bridge. “In the cabinets, on the left.”

  “Do you want me to come?” asked Devon.

  “No,” said Axel. “Just stay here. This should be quick.”

  Axel made his way into the interior of the shipyard. The hallways were empty, save for debris scattered everywhere when the gravity field was reactivated. Lights flickered and the only sound was from the suit’s respirator. The helmet’s heads up display showed the local atmosphere as unsuitable for humans. The oxygen levels were too low. And the temp was also below tolerable levels, minus fifty degrees Celsius.

  The meeting was supposed to take place in a conference room on the same deck as the docking bay. Axel wondered if Javelin was already there or if he’d have to wait. Zulu Dancer was monitoring for ships in the area and so far, there was no traffic.

  Axel activated his connection back to the ship. “I’m almost there.”

  “Copy that,” Danso said.

  Around a corner, Axel found the conference room. He pushed a button on the wall and the door slid open. The room was large, sparsely decorated with all white furniture and a long table in the center. A bald man sat at the table. His face was featureless. He wasn’t wearing a space suit. Instead, he wore a plain brown jump suit.

  The man raised his hand in a halting gesture. “Don’t remove your helmet, Mr. Nash.”

  Axel activated the external speaker on his suit. “Are you Javelin?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But this is an artificial body connected to the real Javelin, at a remote location.”

  This immediately made sense to Axel.

  Brilliant, he thought.

  Why risk being caught out in the open, working with a rogue agent of a foreign country? A squib was the perfect medium to do clandestine business.

  “Do you have my documents?” asked Axel.

  Javelin reached under the table. Axel instinctively reached for his pistol, before calming himself. He doubted this was all a setup to shoot a fifty-five-year-old nobody. A metal case appeared in front of the squib. Latches clicked and the top opened, revealing a series of compartments. In each compartment lay documents, identification cards, and data pads.

  “Here’s everything you need to get in and get out. I recommend going through it all when you’re back on your ship. You can reach me through one of the data pads if you need anything. But I’m sure you’ve been told that our help will be limited.”

  Axel stared at the inventory of fake IDs and travel visas. “Who are these kids, really?”

  Javelin cocked his head. He wasn’t expecting this question. There was a pause for what felt like ten minutes before he spoke. “They’re the son and daughter of France’s deputy defense minister. He desperately wants them back.”

  Axel didn’t know whether to believe this or not. He decided to let it go and try to get the answer to another question that had been bothering him since Cougar’s briefing.

  “They have any reason to hate Daddy? He cut off their holiday funds or forget to tuck them in at night?”

  There was a pause as the squib just stared blankly ahead. Then finally, “No. He loves them very much and they love him.”

  “Uh huh.” Even the artificial human seemed insincere. Axel reckoned that line of questioning wasn’t going to go any further. He decided to attack another issue. “How did the EU find out about this trouble with the Chinese?”

  There was another pause, but shorter than the last. Axel figured the remote Javelin was conferring with a colleague offline.

  “We’ve got people in the China Bank on Mars. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “I see. And when do you believe this coup will take place?”

  “The best guess we have is sometime around the emperor’s birthday in three standard days.”

  “Jesus.” There wasn’t much time to locate these kids if they were off passed out somewhere on that orbiting city. Axel thought for a minute. The notion to just say fuck it and beat a path back to Earth flashed in his head. “What’s in this for the US, if we succeed?”

  “You a real patriot? I believe the term is full flagger?”

  “I salute the full flag, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I know. Mr. Monroe told us. He said you were someone aching to help your country, now that the Christian despots have been deposed. I will warn you, as I warned Mr. Monroe, they aren’t gone. They just don’t occupy the majority of the American government…for now. I fear your country’s troubles might only be beginning. But the French have long memories and our two countries have a history of helping each other out. Mr. Monroe wants our help in tracking down and arresting some of the blatantly criminal members of the Values Party. We’ve offered to share intelligence with America if this operation goes smoothly. That will help your new president hold on to power. So, as you can see, Mr. Nash, there is a lot riding on you.”

  Axel thought for a moment. Suddenly the full weight of the mission settled on his shoulders. If the Values Party members were given a chance to regroup, they could retake the government and there was no telling what sort of retribution they would wreak. The stakes had just gone up.

  “One more thing, Mr. Nash. The children may look at you with suspicion when you first meet them. Their family can be weary of strangers showing up and claiming to be a friend. Tell them, Nous désirons ce qui est juste.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “We desire that which is just. It is a sec
ret Rudeaux family motto. That will tell them you are a friend of the family.”

  Axel repeated the phrase over and over in his head until he was sure he’d got it.

  Javelin closed the case and slid it across the table. “Guard this, Mr. Nash. Now, you must go. I fear there are unwelcome visitors closing in on your ship.”

  With that, Javelin’s avatar slumped over and fell to the floor.

  “Nash,” said Captain Danso, “get back here. We’ve got company.”

  The bridge was filled with shouting. Captain Danso was covered in sweat as he barked orders.

  “I hope you got what you need, Nash,” said Danso. “We must go.”

  Axel responded by prying off his helmet and dropping it in a crew member’s lap. They didn’t seem to notice, instead furiously punching icons on a control panel.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Axel.

  “Bloody scavengers,” said Danso as he pointed to the main monitor.

  A Sunjammer-class freighter, bristling with solar panels, crested the main superstructure of the shipyard. The huge front bay doors were open, like the mouth of a giant fish, as a swarm of slicer drones belched forth. The long flat drones formed a cloud and made for the ship bay nearest the Sunjammer. Sparks began to light up the darkness of the cavernous bay. Within seconds, the drones began carrying pieces of the ship’s hull back to the cavernous black hole in the front of the scavenger ship.

  Devon appeared on the bridge. “Back already, dear?” She smiled at Axel lovingly.

  He responded with a confused expression, before turning back to Danso. “Can we outrun them?”

  “I don’t know, but we will try.” He turned to the helmsman. “Come about and make for the Ezo Delta gate. One hundred percent thrust.”

  The helmsman nodded and the shipyard, along with the scavengers, slid from the main monitor. Axel knew that a functional ship was worth more to pirates than a decommissioned one. He twitched with anxiety, knowing they were in for another fight if they were attacked. However, what would they fight with? He hadn’t seen any weapons on board.