No Mercy (Blood War Book 4) Read online

  Nani was in the lead as they moved down the hall. Then she held up her hand for them to stop. She pointed to the speakers on the outside of her helmet. It was the sign she had heard something. Hu switched his outside speakers on, and he heard muffled voices. He couldn’t be sure whether they were human or hybrid.

  “I can’t tell if they’re human, can you?” Nani said.

  “No.”

  “Let’s make an impression when we go in, just in case.”

  Nani stood to one side of the door. Hu stood back and when Nani nodded, he kicked the door. It flew off its hinges and across the room. There were screams as they made their entry. What they found stopped them in their tracks. There were two young girls, one in her early teens and another not yet ten. The older one had a knife and was holding it in front of her, trying her best not to look scared.

  “Stay away!”

  “It’s all right,” Nani said. “We’re the good guys.”

  “Nani, hinge. We look like a couple fucking robots.”

  Nani knelt in front of the older girl and put her rail down on the floor. She hinged her helmet back so they could her face. Hu hinged his helmet back too.

  “See, we’re human just like you. We just have all this armor stuff on because we were looking for the aliens. Don’t be afraid.”

  The older girl had long, dirty-blonde hair, and the girl behind her was dark haired with huge, scared eyes. She didn’t say anything, just kept the knife pointed at Nani.

  “My name is Mala, and this big guy next to me is Ja. We’re Marines. We’re here to help you.”

  The older girl hesitated, looking from Nani to Hu and back, the knife still held in front of her.

  “I’m Micha and this is my little sister, Astrid.”

  “Sweetie, why are you two still here? Why aren’t you in the shelters with the other civilians?”

  “They won’t let us in,” Micha said, her voice shaking.

  “Why, honey?”

  “Uh, we’re both from LaLande. See?” Micha said, pointing to an LL emblem on the worn dress’s sleeve and an NS on the other sleeve she wore.

  “What’s the NS mean?”

  “Non-Sol.”

  “What difference does that make, honey?” Mala asked.

  “We’re not Sols. Only Sols get to go into the shelters. We signed papers to get here that made us maids.”

  Nani looked over at Hu, her face angry. Hu didn’t need her to explain what she was thinking.

  “Why do they need maids with all the robots they have here?” Nani asked.

  “It’s a way to show how rich you are. They are so rich they can afford to have someone brought to Sol to work for them.”

  Nani glanced up at Hu. He had seen that look only a few times. Nani was pissed enough that he would have to watch her or she might do something dumb. Then again he might just help her. Fucking Sols. Importing girls then leaving them out of a shelter because they weren't deserving of being allow in.

  “Now, you two listen to me. We’re going to take you to a civilian shelter where you belong. So why don’t you put your knife down and let us take you there.”

  “But they won’t let us in.”

  “I think that Ja and I can convince them to let you in. Now don’t you worry about that.”

  Tentatively, Micha slowly handed the knife to Mala. Nani stood and slung her rail, then held out her hand to Micha. The young girl slowly took it. In armor Nani’s hands were so large the girl could only manage to grasp one finger. Hu knelt in front of Astrid.

  “You know, I have a sister about your age. She used to like to ride on my shoulders. Would you like a ride?”

  The girl just stared at him with wide, scared eyes. With his hair cut in a short Mohawk he liked to wear on missions and the scars on his face, he was not exactly friendly looking. Slowly, she reached out and touched the long scar on the left side of his face. It went from his forehead to his jaw. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but it looked nasty.

  “You got hurt.”

  “Yeah, sweetie, I did.”

  “How?”

  “An alien and I got into a fight.”

  “Did you win?”

  Hu had to laugh. If he hadn’t won he’d be dead. “Yes, sweetie, I did.”

  Astrid thought for a second then said, “Did you kill the alien?”

  Hu hesitated and looked over at Nani for help. She just shrugged her armored shoulders. He decided to tell her the truth. “Yes, I did. Astrid, it was trying to kill me.”

  “Good. I’m glad. Why didn’t you get the scars erased? The doctors do it all the time.”

  “I’m a Marine, Astrid. We think that the scars are like medals and show that we are warriors.”

  Astrid thought for several moments. “Okay.”

  “Good. Are you ready for that ride now?”

  Astrid slowly nodded then climbed on his shoulders. Her tiny hands grasped his neck to hold on. Visions of the rides he used to give to his sisters filled his head. They went back down the stairs and emerged onto the street. They were greeted by other members of the platoon, all with civilians they had found hiding among the buildings. Most were young, scared kids from around the Confederation brought to Sol to be servants for the rich. There were a few adults in the group.

  “LT, what are we going to do with them?”

  “We are going to the biggest and best shelter and making sure that they are allowed in. Check the map for this area for me.”

  After a few moments, Sergeant Gras said, “LT, there is one just a block from here. It’s labeled Appointed and Elected Officials Only.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Lead on, Gras.”

  “What if they won’t let them in?” Gras said.

  “Then we’ll convince them to let them in,” Mala said with a tone in her voice that let the platoon know there was no stopping them.

  Hu carried the little girl on his shoulder as they moved through Times Square to the entrance that led down to the shelter. The rest of the platoon formed a protective ring around them. In the midst of all the shit, it was going to be fun watching Mala take on some Sols. Those poor fucks, was all Hu could think.

  Chapter 27

  City-State of New York

  Harbor

  Von Fleet 1206

  Ultra Large Container Vessel (ULCV)

  Bridge

  The harbor was filled with more civilian and military ships than Captain An Bafort had ever seen in his twenty-five years of spacefaring. From his vantage point on the bridge, he could see civilian container ships like his own, destroyers, troopships, battleships, tugs of all sizes, repair ships alongside a number of the military ships performing last-minute repairs, cruisers, barges, and lighters stacked high with containers to be loaded. More single-person tugs and other small service craft than he could count were mixed in among the larger vessels. All of the berths on battleship row and destroyer row were filled. A fighter patrol passed close by, returning from a patrol, while another passed close to his port side, headed out for their patrol.

  He knew his ship was part of something big, but seeing the reality with just his naked eyes awed him. He tried to imagine what the whole harbor looked like on a display. An decided he liked to see the reality instead of glowing figures. He had been ordered into the harbor and to wait for further orders. It had something to do with Von Fleet and the government, but his orders had been vague. All he knew was that he was to lay to in the harbor and wait for an inspection by a Confederation team.

  An snapped out of his reverie and turned his attention back to the operations on his own ship. A captain’s job was never done as long as he was on board.

  He watched as a tug gently nudged his ship into one of the last slips still open in the harbor. His ship and the tug were shown in stark and perfect detail by the sunlight from Sol. Bafort always marveled at the clarity that space gave to visuals. With no atmosphere to interfere, it was hard not to be mesmerized by the beauty of ships designed strictly for functionality. He
had been spacefaring for most of his life, been to every corner of the Confederation, and he still enjoyed watching ships performing their duties in the vacuum of space. It was always a delicate ballet of technology and men.

  The small tug slowly slid 1206 into her slip. Then the slip’s robotic arms reached over and pulled the ship precisely into place. An felt the thump of the magnetic locks securing his ship in its berth. He leaned back in his chair and sighed with relief. It always felt good to have the 1206 secured. Now he could concentrate on finding out what in the hell was going on. His cargo was important, and he knew the Marines needed it as soon as he could get it to Chika. That’s why his orders made no sense.

  Bafort put his feet up on the display in front of him. Various numbers floated in the display, signifying the status of the vessel’s systems. He was proud of the 1206. It had taken him over twenty years of spacefaring to earn his captain’s license, and he took great pride in his skills. He liked to run a tight ship, even if there were only ten crewmembers. A Von Fleet ULCV was the pinnacle of the Von Fleet civilian fleet, the largest container ship the corporation put into space. It was larger than a battleship at twelve hundred feet long with a beam of one hundred sixty feet. The 1206 could hold enough equipment to terraform a new planet, she was so large. Now she was filled with supplies that would be needed to support the military. Being chosen to be part of the logistics fleet in support of the military operation was considered quite an honor in the Von Fleet naval department. She might not be carrying troops, but the operation would not be successful without the 1206 and the others like her in the fleet.

  “Captain, you’re secure. Welcome to Earth,” the tug captain said over the comm. “You are under quarantine until you have been boarded and searched.”

  “I understand. Thank you, ma’am,” Bafort replied.

  “Good luck and smooth sailing,” the tug captain said as she spun her ship and headed back into the harbor.

  “Thank you, ma’am. Same to you,” Bafort said.

  He watched as four-legged robots scampered around the containers on deck, checking for any that might have come loose in the docking. With the bridge on the stern of the ship, the 1206 stretched out in front of Bafort. He wondered if the men who’d sailed oceans in wooden ships driven by the wind could ever have conceived of the 1206 in all its complexity and beauty. He was a sailing-history buff and had read every book and watched every video he could get his hands on about those times. Wooden ships and iron men, as they used to say. He thought they might laugh at how easy the backbreaking work of loading a ship had become.

  Now finished with its job, the robotic arm rotated and telescoped back into the deck. The deck robots finished stowing the last container and went back to their daily maintenance duties.

  “Captain, the dogs are locked and all is secure,” the first mate said. The first mate and the rest of crew had straggled onto the 1206 over the last months. One or two at a time replacing his normal crew, which was highly unusual for Von Fleet human resources. He didn't like it, it took time to work a crew into a team and he was still learning their strengths and weaknesses.

  “Very well. I want all containers on the deck and in the holds double-checked. We can’t take any chances with this cargo. So program the robots to do a complete double check before the next watch. I don’t know when we will be boarded and I want to be ready.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  He wouldn't have had to tell his old first mate. He turned back to his display window. Just looking out into the harbor, An could tell it would take days to inspect all of the Von Fleet ships in the harbor. The military was being very closemouthed about what was going on, so all he could do was wait for further orders. Bafort stared out at the harbor. A Confederation destroyer crossed close by as it headed out on a mission. There were times he wished he had joined the Confederation Navy, but the pay and benefits were hardly worth the years away from your family. No, he was a spacefarer in the Von Fleet naval division and would always be. It would not be long before he would qualify for a very large pension.

  “Captain,” the first mate said.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  Bafort turned to find most of the crew on the bridge. The first mate smiled and said, “It's time that we took this vessel from your pathetic control.”

  “What the fuck—”

  Bafort stood, but before he could take a step, Gault the engineer was next to him. He had moved so fast he was literally a blur.

  “You’re fucking hybrids!”

  Hinkle, with an almost lazy swipe across Bafort’s face, knocked him to the deck. The skin on that side of his face was torn off by the claws that extended from Hinkle’s fingers.

  “Do not speak, human. We are not hybrids. We are Xotec, the children of the Xotoli. We only look like you pathetic humans.”

  Bafort tried to say something, but the blood from his torn face was choking him. He knew he was dead, but he was damned if he would die without a fight. Decades in and out of ports all over the Confederation had taught him one thing: how to fight—or brawl was a better word. Port bar fights were dangerous and brutal. Bafort had not survived as many as he had over the years without knowing how to fight, even from the deck.

  “I am the Alpha of this team, and I have decided to give our youngest member the honor of killing you. It will be his first human kill. Our parents are coming, and it is time for us to prepare the ship.”

  The youngest spaceman who only reported aboard the day before stepped forward.

  “Flury wishes to take his time with you. Test your courage. It will be amusing to watch.”

  Bafort had picked up a habit from his reading of the old sailing books. No good seaman back then would be without a knife on him at all times. Bafort always carried a large folding knife in his pocket. It reminded him of those old sailors and made him feel part of the long history of those who first sailed the seas and now travelled through space. This would not be the first time he had used it in a fight.

  He was lying on his right side. He always carried it clipped in his right pocket. He grasped the knife so he could pull it out with the tip down and the blade forward. His fist closed around the handle, and he thumbed open the blade. Using it this way was like hitting somebody with a fist with a blade attached.

  Flury reached down with a smile on his face. The claws extended from his fingers. When he grabbed Bafort’s left arm, his claws tore into it. He turned and smiled at Hinkle to say something.

  The moment Flury’s eyes left Bafort, he rolled onto his back, freeing his right arm. He swung it like he was trying to land a right on his chin. Instead the blade ripped through the hybrids throat, cutting both the carotid arteries and the jugulars. Blood spurted out in a fountain, covering Bafort. Bafort’s right arm was still moving. It caught a second hybrid too. He had moved so fast when Bafort struck that he was hit by the same blow. It ripped one side of his throat open. He stopped, grabbing his throat.

  Bafort simply finished his long-practiced move by backhanding the knife so the tip struck first. It sunk into the skull, and he dropped dead. He fell across Bafort who looked up at Hinkle and mumbled through the blood in his mouth, “That’s how a seaman fights, you fuck.”

  Hinkle brought his boot up to crush Bafort’s head. As it came down, Bafort’s last thought was that now they controlled 1206, with a cargo of tons of munitions in the middle of New York’s harbor. Then he died.

  Dunc Hafu was up to his neck trying to manage the traffic in the harbor. As the harbor master, it was his job to juggle the civilian, military, and now the confiscated Von Fleet vessels within his harbor.

  It was proving to be an almost impossible job. The military took precedence in all right-of-way and in berthing. The civilian traffic had largely been diverted to the New York private harbor, but that left him with all of the confiscated Von Fleet ships, which had to be boarded and searched, then their crews taken into custody until they could be cleared. The Von Fleet ships in the harbor were
ones that after nationalization had been caught before they could shove off. It had been decided to have them stay in their berths until they could be boarded and searched, something that was proving harder to accomplish than first thought. These were monstrous ships, with thousands of places to hide personnel or weapons. He was significantly behind schedule in the boarding and searching of these vessels. He did not have enough of the new direct action teams. Admiral Raurk wanted them cleared as soon as possible, but he needed additional assets if he was going to make the timeline.

  He glanced at his manifest of ships berthed, and a ship jumped out at him: the Von Fleet ULCV 1206. An Bafort was captain of that ship, and he hadn’t seen or talked to him in years. They had run into each other for decades in harbors across the Confederation.

  “New York Harbor Actual to ULCV 1206.”

  “This is the 1206.”

  “I wish to speak to the captain. Tell him Dunc Hafu wants to say hello to an old hand.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the comm, and the voice came back and said, “Harbor Actual, the captain told me to tell you he was indisposed at this time and that he would call back as soon as possible.”

  Dunc laughed and said, “Tell the captain when he gets out of the head to give the harbor master a call. Advise him it is Dunc Hafu.”

  “I certainly will. This is ULCV 1206, out.”

  Dunc laughed again and made sure to give An a hard time about being in the head when his ship was docking.

  “Sir, there is a priority message for you from the CIC.”

  Dunc switched frequencies and took a look at the list of the latest “drop everything and handle” problems. He quickly scanned them and set out solving the first and most important. Two hours went by as he worked through everything from finding berths and tugs for two more destroyers from the Chika task force that needed emergency repairs to organizing the schedule for shuttles to Earth. When he finally had a moment, he realized he had not heard from the 1206, so he decided to call them again.

  “New York Harbor Actual to ULCV 1206.”