Blue Star Enterprises

The crew of the Zephyr had grown fond of the girl over the last month or so. They would likely keep her busy if he asked them to, but he didn’t want to burden them at a time when they may be needed at their stations.

That meant he was alone in the room. Jasper and the rest of his command crew were keeping an eye on things from the bridge.

Watching the ships descend into the thin atmosphere of the planet left Alexander with mixed feelings. Matthews had communicated to him that over three thousand people were living in the research facility on the surface. The number had surprised him.

So much for his ’abandoned property’. Alexander had figured a few dozen people at most might have taken up residence in the deteriorating structure. Certainly not over three thousand. He sighed. He could only hope the people down there weren’t pirates or weren’t harboring pirates. They may be outside of STO-controlled space, but Matthews and the Hawks of Ganos’ leadership had clearly underlined what would happen if pirates were discovered. They still needed to operate under STO law because of their charter.

Alexander didn’t know the people below, but he hoped for their sake they weren’t dumb enough to harbor pirates.

Soon the last drop-ship passed into the atmosphere, leaving a lone remaining trail of fire to show its passage. There was nothing left to see and he wasn’t privileged enough to get a feed to the soldiers’ activities. It was up to the mercenaries now. He really hoped he had made the right choice by hiring them.

***

Travers was jarred awake as his drop-ship lit off its braking thrusters. It was always such a drag waiting once you strapped yourself in. He adjusted his neck, getting the stiffness out of it as best he could inside his armor. At least they didn’t need vac-suits for this op. He activated his mic. "Sound off!"

A chorus of "Yes Sir!" followed his order and he watched his HUD populate little green squares along the bottom of his helmet’s visor to indicate everyone was synced into the command network and ready. He sent a silent prayer to his ancestors to watch over his team and keep those little icons from going yellow or black.

"Heavies, Check in!" Two larger icons blinked green. The two soldiers in the augment gear were the ’Oh shit!’ response. They were fully vac-sealed. But the suits they wore were about as different from a normal armored vac-suit as a normal armored vac-suit was from civilian dress. Nothing short of anti-armor was getting through those tin cans. And if the people living here had that kind of firepower, the heavies would hold the rear while the rest of the Hawks withdrew.

Then they would simply pummel the facility from orbit with the Talon. It would mean the op was a failure and they would refund all of Kane’s money. But leveling the facility was better than letting a pirate stronghold grow in power like Haven had.

"Ten seconds!" the pilot shouted.

Everyone readied their pulse rifles without having to be told. Travers readied his CQB rifle. All the team had the flechette rifles, but until shit hit the fan, only the Field Leaders were authorized to deploy them.

The ship slammed down, shaking everyone inside as the shocks absorbed the majority of the fast descent.

"Sorry for the rough ride, air’s thinner than the ship is rated to handle."

Travers ignored the pilot’s excuse as he stood. They always tried to rattle the ground crews. He would be the first off so he readied his rifle as the flashing red light indicated the ramp would drop any second.

With a resounding boom, the ramp dropped and Travers double-timed it off the ship, scanning the sides for hostile activity. There was none. The landing pad outside the facility was quiet and looked like it hadn’t been used in ages if the dust kicked up by their descent was anything to go by.

His men rushed past to create a cordon while they moved as one toward the door to the facility.

Similar groups were moving to other entrances on the same landing pad as well as every other around the facility.

As they reached the door, he slid the card reader into the electronic lock and let the master code open the door. There was a click and the red light above the pad turned green.

One of his men spun the lock and pulled the door open. He slipped inside as soon as there was enough room.

A few locals waited beyond the door with weapons. But as soon as they saw him leading the way with an actual weapon, they tossed away their pipes and improvised weapons and threw their hands in the air.

Travers motioned for his team to secure the individuals with mag restraints. They didn’t have very many of these high-tech restraints but they had enough for this group. Once they had an area secured, they could start processing these people and shipping them back to space if needed.

It took around an hour to clear his section and meet up with the other teams in one of the atriums designated on the building plans. Three teams were assigned to this zone, and between them, they had captured over a hundred individuals who had taken up arms against them. Most had surrendered, but a few had tried to fight.

Those either received pulse blasts or in one case, a flechette when the person pulled out a pistol to fire on another team. After scanning that individual, they soon realized he had ten warrants for his arrest on three worlds and a handful of stations. Bounty was for dead or alive, so the body was bagged up and hauled off to one of the drop-ships.

"Captain Matthews, Area D is secure." His radio would be routed back to the drop-ship and their more powerful antenna would transmit it to the Talon.

"Very good, Travers. We are waiting for Area C to be secured. Once it is, I will send the second announcement."

A few minutes later, the overhead comm system crackled to life. The Captain spoke through it, telling the citizens of the research station to head to their closest designated atrium for processing. Emergency terminals would display the maps for where they needed to go.

This was much simpler than having to scour the station and try to keep track of everyone as they did. One team from each atrium would still clear every room in their section, but only after the majority of the squatters gathered.

Travers saw the other Field Leaders motioning him over and he jogged to meet up with them.

"Rock, paper, scissors, winner gets patrol." Travers groaned but slung his rifle on his back as he readied his fist in his other hand.

"Ha!" he exclaimed, slapping the other man’s scissors away with his rock. It had taken seven rounds but he won. "You two gentlemen have fun processing these folks."

"Bite me!" one of the leaders said, waving him off.

The other just laughed. "It was your idea to play."

Travers hustled back to his men and gave them the good news.

***

Damien was making his way to the atrium as the man over the comm called it. Everyone down here just called it the garden. Although it wasn’t much of one. There were more weeds than actual plants. And even those took on a sickly yellow hue due to the lack of water and proper lighting.

Hard to justify wasting resources on green space when they needed those resources for the farms. The line of defeated people shifted to the side of the hallway as a group of armed and armored men strode past like they owned the place.

He couldn’t help gnashing his teeth and clenching his fists when he saw this. One of the men must have noticed because the group stopped and pointed him out. "You, step out of the line."

Dammit! He had let his anger get to him again. This is the exact reason he left the core worlds.

His hesitation had the men aim their weapons his way. "We won’t ask again."

Damien gently removed Gabriella’s hand from his arm, patting her reassuringly before stepping out of the line. His self-control had reasserted itself at her touch.

"What can I do for you?" he asked in his most neutral tone.

A man with a silver bar on his armor plate stepped up and looked him over. Damien could feel his anger flare up again. People had looked down on him his entire life for his short stature. But he usually got the last laugh when he beat them into submission, or in the ring.

"I’ve seen you somewhere before," the man stated.

Damien tensed. His identity was bound to come out eventually. You didn’t appear on national news, and intergalactic stations and expect people not to recognize you.

"Yeah… Holy Shit! You’re Damien Laront, the mixed martial arts master who won the Intergalactic Fighting Championship four years in a row." The man did a few shadowboxing moves as he took a step back. "I tried to mirror my fighting style off of yours. I gotta say, I’m a big fan."

Damien didn’t even bother trying to plaster a fake smile on his face. He gave up that pretend life and all the bullshit that went with it when he moved out here. "Your form is shit," he said instead.

The man stared at him for a moment, and his men tensed behind him before the guy let out a deep laugh. "I gotta say, didn’t see that coming today. Although, getting told you’re shit by a master doesn’t hurt nearly as much as I thought it would. Why the hell is someone like you out in this dump anyway?" the man waved around him.

"I have my reasons," Damien replied tersely.

The mercenary didn’t seem at all concerned by his tone, he simply nodded. "Well, we’ll speak again. For your sake, I hope you don’t have any warrants or anything." The guy gave him a little salute before waving his guys to follow him.

Damien stepped out of the way and his brother Lucas and his girlfriend Gabriella stepped up beside him. They must have been waiting to support him if shit got bad. Gabriella might be able to do something, but he never got why his nerdy brother ever bothered. The man had zero talent for fighting. All his talent went to computers and electronics.

"What was that all about?" Gabriella asked.

"Fans," he grumbled.

His younger brother laughed, earning a glare from Damien that made him laugh even more.

Damien rejoined the line, not waiting for his ass of a brother to stop before storming off.

***

Gabriella waited for Damien to move off down the hallway before slapping Lucas upside the head. "You should be nicer to your brother. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be locked up in some STO penal colony or sold off to one of the big corporations as a slave."

The taller man rubbed the back of his head as he stared at the floor in shame. "Sorry."

She nodded her head and pointed down the hall. "Don’t apologize to me."

The man sighed but jogged down the hall to catch up with his brother.

Once he was gone, Gabriella turned to watch the distant figures of the mercenaries for a moment before she too rejoined the line of people. This wouldn’t be her first time being evicted like this. Her parents and a good majority of the people living in Eden’s End were commonly referred to as drifters in most civilized places. Most of the time people used it as a derogatory term but drifters didn’t care. They just didn’t want to live under the oppressive rule of the galactic governments or have half their incomes stolen as taxes that did nothing to help them.

This was probably the oddest eviction she had been a part of though. Normally mercenaries simply subdued everyone they came across with stunners or pulse rifles. It’s why she had extra padding under her shirt. Those damn things hurt. Never had she seen mercenaries simply walk past a line of people they knew were illegally occupying some place. She didn’t want to hope that this time might be different but something told her it was.