Eight
The Brookes
Jean Barrett stepped out of the shuttle into the slave ship’s docking port, spun on her heel and strode down the passage like a conquistador. She was greeted at the first side passage by one of her Security troops, Tim McNeal.
“This way, Captain,” McNeal said. “We’ve got the crew held in the aft cargo hold. Everyone’s accounted for.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
The aft hold was only a few meters away, down one level. “Gomp,” Barrett said as she stepped through a door into the hold. She felt her eyebrows rise as she noted the stocky, grinning figure in battered old battle armor standing next to Gomp. “Colonel,” she greeted the old man, “I must say, I wasn’t expecting to see you over here.”
“When there’s a scrap going on, Captain,” Feller chuckled, “don’t expect me to stay out of it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She turned to the crew of the converted freighter where they sat on the floor, sullenly staring at the leveled carbines of Barrett’s boarding party. “Who’s in charge here?” she demanded.
A fiftyish woman, heavy-set, with short black hair stood up. “I’m Jane Polston,” she said, “I’m the Brookes’ Executive Officer.”
“Where’s your Captain?”
Polston set her mouth in a thin line and said nothing.
“Never mind,” Barrett said, “He’s on that shuttle we were after. Where were they going?”
Polston looked at the ceiling.
“Fine,” Barrett said. “Have it your way. Gomp, what did you find?”
“Two decks up and about halfway forward, there are four modified compartments that look a lot like security cells,” Gomp said. “I found this in one of them.” He stepped forward and handed a small gray scrap of some cheap material to the Captain.
“Feels like paper.”
“Look close,” Gomp said, “You can see where something was scratched on it – looks like it was done with a thumbnail.”
Barrett scrutinized the scrap more closely. Angling the material against the overhead lights, she could barely make out the letters scratched into the paperlike material:
S – M
SHADE TREE
“Sassy and Mickie,” she breathed.
“That’s how I read it,” Gomp agreed. “But they aren’t on the ship now – they’ve got to be on that shuttle.”
Barrett stepped close to Polston, a snarl on her reddening face. Gomp and Colonel Feller trained their carbines on Polston’s head as Barrett growled, “All right. All right. You’re going to tell me exactly where that shuttle is going, who they’re going to meet, and what’s going to happen when they get there.”
“Why should I tell you anything?”
“Because I’m not the kind of person you want to piss off,” Barrett snapped. “And to be honest with you, I’m pretty damn pissed off already.”
Polston met Barrett’s gaze, a defiant expression on her face, and said nothing.
Barrett pulled her personal comm out of her jacket pocket and tapped a contact.
”Shade Tree, this is Barrett.”
“Shade Tree here,” a voice answered, plainly audible to everyone in the compartment as Barrett turned up the gain.
“Orders to Weapons,” Barrett said. “Target two Shrikes on the Brookes. Stand by to fire as soon as the lander is clear.”
“Targeting,” the comm replied. “Weapons reports two Shrikes armed and ready.”
“Stand by,” Barrett said. She dropped the comm back in her pocket. “Now,” she said to Polston in a conversational tone, “Would you like to tell me where they’re going? Or would you rather just be incinerated along with your ship?”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Polston mumbled.
“Try me.”
The two women’s eyes locked. Polston had known many ruthless men and women in a career lived mostly on the wrong side of the law; she knew when she was beaten. “There’s a small colony on that moon,” she admitted. “It’s called Brickstown. Mostly trading in goods for the mining stations in the Belt. The Captain is taking the cargo there.”
“Why?”
“Do I have to draw you a goddamned map? Population ratio out here is six to one, male to female. The miners are desperate for women. The girls will be auctioned off at zero-nine tomorrow morning, local – that’s about ten hours from now.”
“Who’s in charge down there?”
“Man named Lee,” Polston said. “That’s all I know about him, except that he’s not alone. He’s got at least a hundred armed men, mostly veterans, hired on to protect his operation.”
“A hundred men,” Barrett repeated.
“At least.” Polston smirked. “Combat veterans. Heavily armed. There isn’t any way you’re going to get in there and out again – not alive.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Barrett snarled. “Sit down; I’m done with you.” She spun on her heel and faced Gomp. “Seal the bay, put a guard on the door; nobody gets out until we’re gone. Strip the ship. Take food, pharms, electronics, anything useful.”
Gomp grinned. “You got it, Cap’n!”
“I’m going back to the ship. Call me on the Bridge when you’re done.” Barrett pulled her comm out of her jacket as she strode out of the cargo bay. “Barrett here,” she said. “Fire lower forward pee-beam on target. Knock this spacegoing abomination’s drive out.”
With no star drive, it will take them six or eight years to get to Avalon, she thought. They’ll be stuck here in the Belt. That should keep them out of the slaver business for a while.
But Barrett knew that recovering her two missing crew members was another matter.
***
To see more of Animal’s writing, visit his page at Crimson Dragon Publishing or Amazon.
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Thanks, Animal. Excellent as always.
Today I felt that a little Manowar would make for some appropriate mood music.
Manowar is either really good, or the song sounds like it was written by a high school metal band.
Hail and Kill is probably my favorite from them.
I was legit hoping for some violence today.
>.>
Looks like the odds are against any real violence, just like the Brookes wasn’t going to out-run the Shade Tree.
An interesting way to sort this problem out might be for the Shade Tree to keep station until the auction is underway, then set up an orbital kinetic strike package on the Brickstown spaceport. Take out every subspace-capable hull on the planet. The broadcast a message in the blind, “The Shade Tree will be paying a port call on Brickstown in 12 hours standard. At that time, any party who can deliver all the captives, in undamaged condition, will be give safe passage to the nearest out-system station.”
Think that would get the security staff to change teams?
Does not strike me as a smart move. Destroying vital infrastructure and the vessels of people with plausible deniability?
Plausible deniability would be working overtime, to explain a bunch of sex slaves scattered around the planetary settlements…
And charging in like a bull in a china shop does not win friends, nor capture criminals.
“Leroy Jenkins!”
I don’t think anyone intends to capture criminals, least of all, ahem, pirates.
Ahem. It’s
“LEEEEEEEEROOOOYYY JENKIIIINS!”
JI, your timing was impeccable.
But even pirates deserved a fair trial, conviction, and execution. Provided they don’t, ahem, resist arrest with lethal force.
I believe conflicting criminal enterprises deal with disputes without resorting to legal niceties.
Depends on which criminal enterprises we’re talking about.
thanks for the story Animal
That’s an awfully large security contingent for a small outpost – they must be involved in all kinds of illegal activities.
Interesting and more interesting. A light company in garrison is a hell of a lot of security for a glorified pimp – it makes me wonder if Lee has some official backing…
Or what he is mining is completely illegal.
In case your blood pressure is low. Guy with hidden cameras tours a secret immigrant shelter in Arizona.
https://twitter.com/nickshirleyy/status/1764480635073110485
If Americans won’t embrace the Democrats as a permanent governing party, the party will find people that will!
Once again, conceding the premise by calling them immigrants. They’re aliens or to be crystal clear, invaders. It’s not going to end until the fifth columnists start hanging from lampposts.
The cop wouldn’t even turn around to acknowledge them.
To quote Delong, “the Cossacks work for the czar”.
“Undocumented citizens” or you’re worse than Hitler.
Not a criticism of you, but what expository purpose does a music bed in an ostensible news story serve?
Had to go back in listen. Like it’s there to show the tragedy to a messed up bathroom.
Sets the mood like a laugh track just in case you don’t comprehend the gist.
Yeah, but that’s not expository; it’s an attempt at emotional manipulation.
They should have used a Sarah McLachlan song?
We need to build a wall on our border with Africa, obviously.
I have heard from a reliable source that those shelters are filthy and smell like hell. And yes, they keep them secret. The NGO’s and the cartels promise the land of milk and honey, but once they’re here nobody gives a shit about them because they’ve already served their purpose.
Purpose? There is a purpose?
If it is to build a dependent constituency they are right on track. Make them experience what life is like without a pimp’s love.
If Trump wins, the corporate media will “discover” them again.
+100,000 kids in cages
Ripped from their mother’s bosom!
Great story so far, I agree with the speculation about why the colony has such a robust defense force.
Anti-intellectual authoritarianisms
Jeremi Suri, a historian at the University of Texas at Austin, argued that the GOP’s attack on campus politics isn’t new — there’s a throughline reaching back to George W. Bush’s presidency.
“Some Republican leaders have spent the last two decades condemning everything about the universities that boosted their careers — the expertise on subjects like climate change, the values around diversity and inclusion and even the commitment to teach a full history of our country…”
“The time has come to end what has been a long political war on universities. It no longer benefits anyone, except those who truly want to destroy higher education and build their careers by repressing the free speech of young, talented citizens.”
Questioning the universities is hate speech and must be stopped.
Wow, all the way back to George W. Bush? That’s practically ancient history!
“even the commitment to teach a full history of our country”
Ah, so Howard Zinn then?
“…young, talented citizens.” Objection – assumes facts not in evidence.
There are still plenty in the hard sciences but most of the liberal arts and education majors would have serious problems unclogging a toilet.
Prof. Suri is only adept at clogging toilets.
Disagree.
A conversation with a millennial held over Face Time:
“Ma’am? your $40 consulting fee went through! Are you ready for me to help you unclog your toilet?”
“Yes please! It smells horrible!”
“OK. Here’s what you do. Place your phone into the toilet, all the way, and I will handle unplugging it from there.”
“Oh thank you sir! Technology is amazing!”
*Plunk
*Sound of phone shorting out in waterlogged feces
The power company wants to install a
smart meterorwellian remote disconnect device on my power and gas lines.How do I tell them to go fuck themselves and have it stick?
Go off grid
Not a viable option.
Forge some copper bus bars to bridge over the device. Would be a fun project. Make some threaded ends where you could screw into the wires with sharp-ended screws.
With a 12 gauge?
So far the shitty power monopoly in my area hasn’t needed anything beyond, “Not while breath and beer flow through this body.”