Chronicles of a Space Mercenary

New revision in place as of 12/23/2011.
Five months on Amazon's Best Seller list.
For new book release dates or questions, go to;
http://wintrickscifi.blogspot.com/
Thanks and enjoy.
The thing I hated most about working for the government, any government, they all seemed to think alike, was that then they invariably thought that they owned you. Patriotism, duty and all those other words that meant they thought they were entitled to what was yours. All meaningless trite to a world-less vagabond like myself. My ship was my home and I needed no other.
“They’re waiting for a response, Captain!” Tanya Serensen said, my strong First and the meanest bitch I have ever met.
The war was over. We were, had been, part of the Federation forces which had unsuccessfully attempted to unify the four hundred and seventy-two known human worlds. We had been smashed ruthlessly, to put mildly what had been a lost cause from the beginning. I had been paid handsomely with trade goods and supplies; semi-precious metals and fuel rods, to be exact, plus I’d brought my ship, Last Chance, and my crew through without a scratch. So I had not complained when everyone started signing peace treaties.
The problem began when I informed my erstwhile employers that with hostilities ended, so too were my obligations. I had fulfilled to the letter our contract. I owed them nothing more. They had not agreed.
There were now three of my former allies, positioned in attack formation outside Last Chance’s hull. Not only did they not feel as if I had not completely fulfilled my end of the bargain, but I was getting the distinct impression they would not be satisfied until they had added Last Chance herself to their now depleted arsenal. I guess they felt, that with all the losses they had suffered, that Last Chance would be a welcome addition to their much depleted Navy. I guess they hadn’t quite learned their lesson about attempting to force their wills on unwilling subjects. Some people are simply incapable of understanding. Especially people in positions of power, like governments, for example.
“You bastards!” I snarled. I should have known these ungrateful hypocrites would try to back stab me, especially now that every planet was a law unto itself, only answerable to itself, and they angry at the defeat they had suffered. They were quick at jumping on the bandwagon of self governance, now that no unifying government held sway. That was for sure.
“Is that your response?” Tanya asked, no inflection in her voice.
“No!” I snapped. The crazy bitch would repeat it too, if I didn’t specifically say no! A first impression of Tanya Serensen would never give you the insightful depth that existed behind her innocent appearing, stunningly beautiful face. Blond hair, blue eyes, body and face of a love goddess, barely fifty kilos soaking wet, but as vicious as a Tarnian Bola Raptor when angered, and if you’ve ever been to Tarnia you know there is no living creature meaner nor better able to defend itself. That’s my Tanya, in a nutshell. A very tough, unbreakable nutcase.
“What are we going to do?” Demanded David Bren, my Science Engineer, when I didn’t immediately make a decision. Bren is a mathematical genius and quite able to compute our odds, no matter which decision I ultimately made, whether we fought or fled, against the three Class Four Katon Destroyers which were arrayed around us in a roughly triangular formation. Not that it took a mathematical genius to figure these odds. We were fucked, and that was the long and the short of it! To fight would be bad. To flee, worse. To surrender, the worst! They weren’t going to let us survive to go running around telling anyone who would listen how we had been robbed by the honest, law abiding Katons. They had their tourism and immigration to think about, but they also needed ships to patrol their borders. Hell, I was seriously worried, and I, Marc Deveroux, am usually quite unflappable. There was really only one answer.
I keyed ship’s intercom; “Battle Stations. Delegate targets. Fire on orders only!” I looked into Tanya’s cool blue orbs and winked my left eye. A left wink meant to be prepared to fight. The wink was redundant, of course. There was no other option but to fight. She smiled at me serenely, the calm before the storm.
“Tell them,” I said, “that we surrender.” I smiled my own smile back at Tanya, my goodbye, if that was what it would come to, but we had been through so many such tough scrapes, that it seemed impossible that this one could really be the end.
“You damned maniac!” Bren yelled, jumping up from his seat at his computer console, glaring at me furiously, but he shut