Cottonmouth on the loose

[Hardnight]

The bridge of the frigate was spit and polish. It should be. She was brand new. Her owner, Hank Hardnight Russells, stood looking out the broad forward cockpit window onto the stunning expanse of stars. Suddenly from the coal black of space a trade lane sparkled into life and fed a large train out of its gaping maw, the huge ship materializing in a blue blaze. The life of a star-man is a glorious life, especially if it makes you wealthy in the process, he thought, smiling happily. Now the approach of footsteps caused him to turn in search of the author of the noise. A short, stout fellow of some forty years walked onto the bridge. He was wearing a black non-descript flight suit without insignia, calf-length black leather boots, and he sported a silver flight helm under one arm. His face was drawn with age and a hard life and there was a distinguishing scar running diagonally across his forehead, from hairline to right brow.

You the honcho around here? Came the short, terse, rough voice of the stranger. A voice, Hank could tell, that was not used to attempting polite conversation although he could tell the man was trying.

Yea, I am. Hardnight admitted, his interest piqued. This was quite a unique-looking character.

Said Id find you here. Said you were looking for a pilot.

Well Hank smiled sardonically, they were right on both accounts. He turned to the wet bar and poured a tall rum. You a drinking man? Care to join me?

Straight and stiff, please. He accepted the proffered drink with a nod of appreciation.

Tell me about yourself. Whats your name?

Sal Saundrix just call me Sedge. Look, let me just throw all the cards out there for you to peruse, chief. He took a long, hard toss off the rum before continuing. I just got out of LPI Huntsville where I was incarcerated for 10 long years. And I know that probably is not the credentials you were looking for in a pilot but all I ask is that you listen to my story give me a fair trial before YOU convict me too.

Hardnight instantly liked the man. Why, he did not know, but he did. Of course he would listen to his story. It was the honorable thing to do. No, he didnt particularly like the fact that he had been in prison but for crying out loud, except for some very fortuitous turns-of-event HE couldve gone the same route. Instead he was now head of a thriving enterprise.

You have my undivided, bro. Hardnight considered all honorable pilots his brother.

Good thank you. He finished off the rest of his rum, laid the glass down and began the tale. Well, I graduated top of my class from West Point. Started out in fighters, spent several years there, eventually working my way up to squadron leader. Then I got posted as captain of a Liberty Gunboat, the Shenandoah. Spent several more years in her doing a lot of long range recons against the Rogues, Xenos and Outcasts. Wasnt much longer before Liberty High Command saw fit to promote me to commodore and give me my very own three-boat flotilla.

My first six-month tour with my new command went well we were sent into Alaska on a Nomad hunting cruise, on which we scored heavily against the enemy 134 kills, mostly fighters. We did well but ended up losing one of our boats when we ran afoul of a Nomie Battleship. After we got our replacement is when the trouble began. The skipper of the new boat was a senators son and he acted the part. But aside from the fact that he was a snot-nosed rich kid, there was something else about him that bothered me. So I always paid special attention to him what he did how he did it.

Soon our orders came down and we were assigned to San Diego Border Station in California. Wed be jumping into Magellan, running ops against the Rogues who were terrorizing the trade lanes there. Well, it was on our first mission an assault on a brand new Rogue station just being completed deep in the asteroid fields near the Leads Jumphole. Well Lt. Speares that was the kids name made some very suspicious calls right before the mission. I almost canned the mission because of it but didnt, he paused and shook his head. How I wish I had. Anyway hey can you refill this? The leathered face seemed to plead as he held out the empty glass to his prospective employer.

Sure. Hardnight said graciously, popping the cork on the bottle of rum and topping him off. Half a glass later the man continued.

But, I didnt trust him and I had a special, er device installed on his boat. It was an EMP bomb that was meant to cause his boat systems to short out. Of course, I had the trigger on the Shenandoah, so that if anything went wrong I could take care of it quick and easy. Well, we set out for the station coordinates and, just as we were coming into sight of the facility, a flock of Rogues descended on us. My boat and the Crocket skippered by one of my old colleagues in West Point, Rea Katz opened fire on the fighters. Then suddenly the Seychelles, Lt. Speares boat, opened up on US! he knocked down Reas shields and the fighters tore him apart. I scrambled for the EMP trigger and savagely pulled the plug on that dirty SOB. But something went wrong, his boat systems didnt just die, the boat exploded. To this day, I dont know why. Nor do I know the details of his traitorous acts. Anyway I beat a fighting retreat back to base, making it there with no bats and very few bots.

Hank looked deeply into the face of the man. There was a stern sadness there. But he saw nothing but absolute honesty. And he could also see that there had been much retrospection concerning these events. Of course, you can do a lot of that from the prison cell of a ten-year term. Hardnight squelched an urge to say something and just waited politely for the man to resume speaking in his own time, which he shortly did after tossing off the remnants of his second rum.

Naturally, there was a court-marshal. He was a senators son so no one believed my story about him firing on us. Said I had simply fouled up and was trying to cover for it. The senator wanted me dead hard, cold dead but my C.O. and my exemplary service record stood beside me and so my sentence was commuted to ten years at Huntsville. And well thats it.

Wow Hardnight muttered, pursing his lips into his trademark expression. His friends and employees knew it was an expression that showed up on his face whenever he had reached a firm decision and was about to share it. That is quite a story Sedge. He leaned back in the bridges command chair and exhaled noisily. About that time the skipper of the frigate showed up, Leo Cavanaugh. Hey Leo we have a winner Leo, Sedge, Sedge, Leo! he exclaimed and turned back to Sedge, who was gaping with a comical drop-jawed expression. Capt. Cavanaugh smothered an urge to burst into laughter. He knew Hardnight well. Sedge did not. Undeterred or unaware, their boss continued without missing a pulse. Well, Capt. Sedge, your new command is a Luxury Liner. We will be using her as the meat and potatoes of our little enterprise. I will assign the routes for her myself, with your recommendations always being welcomed. You will get a modest 10 percent of her profits paid monthly. I will foot the bill for outfitting, damage repair which there had better not be a lot, right Leo? The older, grizzled star-man grinned and nodded sagely as Hardnight continued. and replenishing. I have christened her the Cottonmouth, as she has quite a strike capability herself, which we will increase as you begin to show us a profit. So, what do you think?

The mans hard eyes softened imperceptibly. I think it is all right what I heard about you, Mr. Russells. You are a fair-minded man. Thank you.

Well, youre welcome but one other thing.

Yes sir?

Do NOT lose any of my cargo and we do NOT pay pirates neither the legal nor the illegal kind. Now, I dont believe you are of this type but if you are save me the trouble of firing you later. Some skippers give in too easy dump their cargo or dole out monetary payola to be left alone if you are that kinda skipper tell me now!

An honorable death before a dishonorable surrender? The man smiled a dangerous smile. I can go that route my ship comes first er YOUR ship, sir. It is a sacred thing to be handed a mans baby. And a Lux Liner, with the right guns and systems, classes as a light cruiser. With a ship like that, pirates beware what I cant whip I can out-run. You have my word on that.

Good enough. Hardnight vaulted from his chair and clapped the stocky man on the shoulder roughly, tossed his other arm around Leo and announced grandiosely: You are the new captain of the HNS Cottonmouth. Now, lets all go to the stateroom and finish off this bottle and maybe one or two more!

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