Reaper Inc.

  I want to thank everyone who has supported me throughout the months encouraging me through email and Facebook posts. I hope you enjoy The Chronicles of Benjamin Jamison Book 2, Reaper Inc. as much or even more than Book 1.

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  For my brother,

  Franklin Maurice Wright, devoted husband, father and the best brother anyone could ask for in any Universe.

  January 7, 1952 - May 22, 2009

  The Chronicles of Benjamin Jamison

  Book 2

  Reaper Inc.

  Thomas A. Wright

  Copyright 2015

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  "Staff Sergeant Jamison, is your team ready?" Crew Chief Henry Adair's voice echoed in Ben's helmet.

  "Affirmative, chief. Locked and loaded." The shuttle vibrated, groaned, and shook. The shields were holding; the young lieutenant piloting the shuttle did everything she could to keep it on course and in formation. Five inbound shuttles one of which was the command center for the op. They were taking a beating.

  The pirate stronghold was much better fortified than they had been led to believe. There was no element of surprise. Ben thought to himself; the missions that worked out the best were the unplanned missions, the lucky find while on patrol.

  Ben believed the pirates must have a security network setup around the planet which alerted them to the presence of the navy destroyer. The navy would take care of that little set back. Not that it mattered. The pirates would never use this location again. It did give the navy something to blow up and 20 seconds of target practice.

  "Listen up Misfits! This op is already a bust and we are jumping right in the frying pan."

  "No news there, boss," Snake commented.

  "Hillbilly! You stay with the chief and the shuttle. Once the lieutenant hits dirt take up a position on top and protect our ride out of here." Ben switched channels on his com.

  "Lieutenant, Chief, I am leaving Private Beavens with you. Do you copy?"

  "Copy that. Sergeant Jamison. Set your countdown to ninety seconds and hold on," the lieutenant said.

  "Call me Reaper, lieutenant. The Master at Arms is the only one who calls me Sergeant Jamison. Chief Adair grunted his agreement to the statement.

  "Misfits, eighty five seconds and counting," Ben announced to his team. His team didn’t really need a countdown. They were always ready but it was protocol to announce every damn thing.

  "Birdman, you have the point, keep your head down, I will give you a twenty count head start. Mumbles and Ronnie, take the rear and hang back on our right flank and provide cover fire. I have the feeling Ronnie will be busy on this one. The rest of you are on me."

  "Sergeant Jamison! Shuttle 2 just went down! I have new coordinates and you have the ball." The lieutenant overrode his com to make the announcement. Already forgetting what he just told her in the excitement.

  "Damn! Copy that, lieutenant. We have the ball." Reaper repeated for the record. He felt the shuttle accelerate. Everyone adjusted their grip as it banked hard. "Listen up. We are the point of the spear now. Shuttle 2 just went down. No change in plan just location. Look for the leaders, let the rest go, we can round them up later. I'm updating the scans and plotting your immediate targets. Everyone sound off receipt of new scans."

  Ben's wetware linked him to command operations and tactical information. Very few marines below the rank of staff sergeant were given wetware neuro-implants. Those who were chosen had to meet strict criteria to receive the expensive high-end interface. Command dictated the level of clearance each soldier would operate at on each op. That level of clearance could be increased during an operation as conditions changed and they always did. Second lewies didn’t seem to last long. His didn’t even make it off the ship. Supposed food poisoning. When the doctor pays a visit to the mess chief and makes him do a full inspection and they find nothing. They will be tearing up some butter bar ass. Reaper had the feeling the real culprit was sitting on the shuttle with him. It was good and bad. He didn’t have to baby sit on one hand, but then he couldn’t have his team poisoning every new lieutenant on the other.

  Ben received his new orders and his interface adjusted letting him see all the teams instead of just his in real time inside his visor. It updated all the targets identifying them in red. The rest of the team had com units strapped to their forearms with a small screen and a holo-projector. Given good solid recon and information, they could run a precision operation. It wasn’t the marines or the navy's fault their manpower wasn’t properly utilized. Had just one of the four teams been utilized for recon prior to the assault on Shuttle 2, the men and women on board would not be in a smoldering heap on the ground. He gritted his teeth; the earlier amusement gone.

  He felt the shuttle descending again. She was taking it in fast. The lieutenant was probably under pressure from command to get them on the ground.

  "Ok everyone, hold on tight." They heard the landing gear whine. Ten seconds later, they bounced instead of coming to a smooth stop. Ben heard helmets banging together and cussing but not over the com.

  "Cut her some slack. She got us here in one piece under fire," he reminded everyone. The rear door opened and it looked like a laser light show. "Birdman go, go, go." Private Estaban hit the ground running. Manuel Estaban was an adrenalin junky. It’s really an unwritten requirement for the job. His favorite past time was anything dangerous that gave him a rush. In his spare time, it usually involved him jumping out or off of something high, hence his call sign. He complained his wife was putting her foot down after his last leave. She didn’t share his enthusiasm for his hobby and it was their honeymoon. She didn’t want to be a widow after only a few days of marriage.

  Reaper looked around the edge of the shuttle door, making sure Birdman made his destination. He took a quick look at the surrounding area.

  Pirates are not the most eco-friendly group of people. This worked in his team’s favor. There was some kind of junk scattered everywhere over the immediate landscape; mostly hulls and pieces of damaged spacecraft stripped for parts and patching material. The planet the pirates called home sat near the border of Allith and Trillond space. Although suitable for colonization, it was too close to the border and too far to qualify for a military presence. It boasted a few small settlements that must have worked out some arrangement with the pirates or the Allith or both.

  ****

  Birdman made it to cover. The pile of scrap hull sections was perfect. He returned fire. He was an expert marksman and it would not be hard to drill the dumb bastards, but he couldn’t.
They had orders. Because they didn’t know who was in charge, they couldn’t just kill them on sight.

  The pirates were using a luxury liner as their home base. There were a number of ships immediately surrounding it, others sat farther out all providing power via huge cables that lay on the ground between the ships and the ground-based portable lasers. Each one was coupled to the generator onboard the starship.

  "Snake, make your way to Birdman and setup the widow maker. Target the laser cannons or the power cable and disable. Unless something goes terribly wrong, don’t use it on the pirates. Do you copy what I just said, Snake?"

  "Copy that boss, don’t make hamburger out of the pirates."

  Reaper continued. "Command wants prisoners and there is a good possibility of women and children on that liner." Snake patted the huge weapon hanging in front of him like it was a pet dog. Snake's smile did nothing to make anyone believe him.

  "Snake!" Reaper yelled.

  "Copy boss, no pirate burger," Snake hastily replied. A tripod hung on his back if he chose to use it.

  "Genius, you and I will take the left flank, draw off as much fire as you can take so Birdy can advance to the doors and set the charges. We go on three."

  "Reaper, what if the ships decide they are going to leave?" Genius asked.

  "If Snake can dissuade them with some hot tungsten to the engines then fine, but otherwise, it’s the Navy's problem. The other teams should be taking care of the ships anyway. That is their job on this op and that liner is ours now on three! Go! Go! Go!" Reaper was pushing them.

  They ran out of the back of the shuttle ignoring the laser fire. There was no reason to panic. They had spent their careers on the borders of colonial space fighting pirates, smugglers, and the Allith. The shuttle lifted off once they were clear and backed 300 yards from the action, well out of handheld laser range. Hillbilly climbed the ladder inside the shuttle to the hatch and lay on the roof with another widow maker. Unless the shuttle was in danger, he wouldn’t fire a round. The widow maker was the largest hand-operated magnetic coil rail weapon currently in service. It wouldn't make a scratch on the destroyer in orbit, but a shuttle, fighter or precision shots to the drives or engines of a small starship would put it out of commission or destroy it. Building materials and life forms didn't stand a chance. The hull of the old cruise liner was heavy but nothing compared to a battle cruiser.

  The pirates were setting off wild shots now that five laser rifles were firing at them instead of one. Ben was thankful the navy had a handful of fighters making runs at the laser cannons keeping them busy now that all the shuttles were on the ground or they would have turned the damn ground lasers on the parked shuttles and the marines by now if they could.

  "Hey, little Birdy, you ready to go blow up something?" Ben knew he hated being called that. “You have no cover between you and those doors. Fly like the wind."

  "Affirmative! If everyone could fire until your rifle overheats I would appreciate it," Birdman replied, ignoring Ben's baiting him into banter to distract him from having to run across a wide open space.

  "Let’s light 'em up, Misfits!" There was really nothing for Birdman to do but get close enough to throw the magnetic mine at the doors which were flush with the hull; there was nowhere to hide so he would just turn and run back. He armed the magnet and the mine and sprinted giving himself more than enough time. He carried the disc-shaped mine ready to give it an under hand toss putting an arc on his throw.

  The pirates saw him coming via monitors inside the ship. The doors slid open and three pirates starting firing. Birdman dived, rolled forward, and came up running, letting the mine go in one fluid motion. It flew through the air almost to the open doors before hitting the ground and rolling. The pirates backed inside and tried to shut the doors but it rolled in and attached to a hull support beam. The doors shut.

  The explosion rocked the liner and blew the doors outward but not open, just bulging out slightly. Opening was something they would never do again without help. Birdman went down face first into the dirt, taking multiple hits of laser fire in a few short seconds.

  "Ronnie, stay where you are. I will get him and bring him to you after I set another charge. The rest of you be ready to go in once those doors open."

  "Snake, you take point and the rest of you follow his lead. I will cover the rear after I drop Birdy off with Ronnie. Cover me now!"

  Reaper ran for his team mate. The laser fire he expected was almost nonexistent, maybe something new was about to happen. He took a mine out of Birdman's pack, taking it all the way to the doors. He placed it where he thought it would do the most damage. He turned and ran to his fallen team member, taking him by the arm, bending down and lifting him over his shoulder making a sprint for Ronnie's position. Birdman was about 160 pounds soaking wet. Not a real hindrance for Reapers 6 foot 6 230 frame. The mine blew with the squealing sound of tearing metal and Ben yelled “GO!” to his team.

  Ben laid Birdman down gently and looked him over for a second. Scorch marks on his armor said it had done its job except for the one at the top of the chest plate and his neck. Blood was running everywhere. A metal buckle melted into his wound and it didn’t cauterize like laser wounds often do. Ronnie was pulling on the armor trying to get it all unclasped when Ben took his combat knife and cut the webbing away, pulling it off none to gently. Speed was key at the moment.

  "Go!" Ronnie said forcefully. "I will do what I can and you will be in the way." She knew there wasn’t much she could do and he needed to be protecting and helping the rest of the team. Ronnie put pressure on the wound and blood poured between her fingers. Ben knew not to argue. He was ten steps into his run to the liner when Birdman stopped breathing and his heart stopped beating. The carotid artery had been damaged severely and he bled out in the short time he lay on the ground and over Ben's shoulder. It was a fluke shot. Ronnie had tears in her eyes. She wiped off her hand, picked up her rifle, and headed towards the gaping hole that used to be the doors of the liner.

  Reaper saw Ronnie at the door. He knew if she was standing there that quickly then Private Emanuel "Birdman" Estaban was gone. He was angry now, tired of losing men. He would have to tell the new Mrs. Estaban and it already hurt to think about it. Besides the women and children, he saw no reason to have to use such restraint. Some pirates would survive by default because they were not anywhere near his team. He could see his team felt the same way.

  There were at least a dozen pirates keeping them pinned near the doors they entered at. Ben pulled a grenade and sailed it down the hallway. He pulled another and followed the first one. Both went off and he heard some yelling and screaming.

  "Let's go get this over with. Snake, you're still point and I will follow you, everyone else behind me. Genius, you’re with Ronnie. Let's go!"

  They ran to the intersection of hallways where the pirates had been. Clearing blind corners sucked but they knew exactly what to do. There were two dead and two wounded, the rest must have fled. The wounded opened fire, bad move; luck was not on their side. Snake ended them both.

  "Which way, boss?" Snake asked.

  "Straight, then up two levels at the stairs. The bridge will be at the end of the hall. Snake, you should have a couple grenades ready. We will be sitting ducks on those stairs."

  "Got it," Snake replied then took a grenade off his belt. It was a short distance to the stairs. Snake didn’t wait to see if there were any hostiles before lobbing both grenades up on the next level. The back-to-back explosions rocked the old liner again. Snake took the steps three at a time except for the last ten, when he got down and essentially crawled up. He looked around and there were pirates running in all directions but none offering resistance. He gave the signal for the rest of the team to proceed.

  Ben reached the top and began a sweep, looking for hostiles. The pirates seemed to be more interested in getting as much as they could carry and getting the hell off the ship. Snake started up the next flight of stairs with Ben covering him.
They reached the top. Once again, no resistance. Nothing was really making sense to him. They had fought pirates in the past and they never acted anything like this.

  They made their way to the doors of the bridge. Ben inspected them to see if there was a trip switch but found no evidence of one. Just then the doors opened to a startled pirate. He was young and didn’t have the sense to move before the big fist connected with his face.

  Snake started yelling. "Hands behind your head, fingers interlocked, stand up, and don’t move until you're told!" The rest of the team took up positions while Ben grabbed the kid by the shirt collar, dragging him, then depositing with the others. He spent a few seconds studying his prisoners. A tall, lanky pirate had been at one of the consoles. He had the look of someone you wouldn’t turn your back on anywhere, ever. The fat, sloppy man in the captain's chair was not the captain, even though he was already professing to be.

  "You need to get on the horn and tell all your people to stand down, drop their weapons and lay on the floor or ground face down, hands behind their heads." Ben handed the fat man a com device that was lying on the arm of the captain's chair. "Do it now!"

  "No. That is not how this is supposed to work," he said. Ben didn’t pull the punch that connected with the side of the fat man’s head. Before he could fall over, Ben had him by the arm holding him up.

  "What did you just say? Not how it’s supposed to work. What does that mean? You look like you were sitting here waiting on us." The man realized his slip of the tongue and thought he would clam up. Ben had orders to take prisoners and those orders were not specific to how many, just the leaders.

  He looked around the room again and they seemed at ease, but anxious. He pulled the fat pirate by the shirt away from the chair and hit him again. This time, he let him hit the floor.

  He walked over and grabbed a female pirate who stood at one of the stations. She wasn’t going to just stand there and let him punch her, or so she thought.

  "Why were you just sitting here? Do you have this ship rigged to explode, killing us all in the process?" Ben drew back his arm in a fist. She turned her head to the angry pirate standing behind her, putting her arms up to try and block what was coming. Nothing came.