The Black Ships by A.G. Claymore Read Free Book Online

heating element. “You let the pot go
cold.” He looked over at Pete with an expression of betrayal. The engineer from
NASA hardly acknowledged the statement. He was staring at the screen with a
frown. Upon standing, Mike was able to see the screen and he froze for a
moment. “What the hell are those?”
    “If I had to hazard a guess,” Pete finally
took his eyes off the screen, “and I’ve been working on my guess for two hours
now, I would say they’re for mining supplies.” He shrugged at Mike. “They
landed near your operation on Olympus Mons. The whole reason Red Flag set up
there is because volcanoes and asteroid impacts bring mineral wealth to the
surface, right?” He continued when Mike nodded. “They leveled a patch this
morning and dropped those big boxy numbers about an hour ago.” He walked to the
sink and dumped his coffee out.
    “They could have parked anywhere,” Mike
thought out loud. “But going to that kind of trouble to park on the slopes of a
volcano…”
                   
“Means they have minerals on their minds,” the engineer finished for him. He
grabbed his coat from a chair. “I’ll go out for food and I’ll bring you back
some decent coffee.” He stopped by the door. “Do us both a favor: throw out
that can of crystals and I’ll bring back some fresh-ground Kona.”
    Mike smiled and nodded; the crystals were
only there for occasional use. They had never been intended to keep a two-man
watch fuelled with caffeine for over a week. “Fine.” He did his best to sound
grudging. “But no more spam sushi.”
    The engineer laughed. “C’mon, it’s an
acquired taste. You have to give it a chance.”
    The Red Flag astronomer gave a disapproving
shake of his head. “Seriously, dude, there is something wrong with the way your
head works. And why,” his voice grew louder, “do we always label disgusting
food as an acquired taste ?” He jabbed a thumb at his own chest. “This is
one guy who won’t fall for the oldest marketing scam in the books.”
    “Uh-huh…” Pete’s voice was thick with
sarcasm as he opened the door. “You do still want the bottle of scotch,
though?”
    Mike chuckled. “Not in here, but point
taken; I have acquired a few tastes, but NO DAMN SPAM,” he yelled as the
door closed behind his friend.
     

Turtle Bay
    Manhattan, New York
    January 11 th , 2026
    F rank sat in an old Danish-style chair. It looked like it had been
there since the ‘50’s when that kind of mid-century modern was all the rage. I
tried to tell them they had the wrong guy; now what the hell do I say? He
was a mess; and this was no simple mistake. This was a fail of epic
proportions.
    At least he’d tried to tell them – several
times.
    Just over two hours ago, he had been in a
meeting in Howard’s office where they were trying to smooth things over between
Ops and Engineering. Frank had sensed that Howard knew he was in the right, but
the VP of Operations still wanted his head on a platter. Howard was playing the
peacemaker, as usual; suggesting that apologies be offered all around. Frank
was about to employ some rather shocking language when a commotion erupted on
the other side of the door.
    All eyes were already on the door when it
opened. A young Air Force captain strode in with a middle-aged man in a light
grey suit. A shield on his belt identified him as a detective with the Miami
police. “It’s all right, Alan.” Howard nodded his assistant out of the office
before addressing the intruders. “Gentlemen, how can I help you?” He was too
curious to be annoyed at the intrusion and Frank was pretty sure he was glad to
interrupt the meeting before it got even more out of hand.
    The military officer was first to speak.
“Sir, we’re looking for a Mr. Frank Bender. I believe he’s one of your project
managers?”
    What the hell? Frank knew he had heard it right but that didn’t mean it made any
sense. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Grant,