Chapter: Pirates
We emerged from hyperspace with another lurch. I was somewhat prepared, gripping tightly to the arms of the Throne, but this transfer worse than the last.
“Point Emergence,” reported one of the bridge crew. “Looks like we’ve transferred to the system we were trying for,” the spacehand said, sounding sour with the whole idea.
“Belay that nonsense,” snapped Officer Tremblay. “Helmsman, do your duty.”
“Main engine is lit and baffling is now physically extended beyond transfer area,” said Helmsman DuPont.
“Point Resistance,” demanded Tremblay.
“Engines at 25% of maximum,” said the Helmsman. “The ship is still locked.”
“Shields at a steady 95% and re-modulated for a sump break,” reported a tactical trainee.
“I’m amazed we survived the transfer,” declared the Science Officer standing up from his chair. “The inertia on this sump alone is going to be the worst this ship’s ever seen. I warned you that this was a very bad idea.”
“When I or the Admiral want your opinions, we’ll blasted well ask for them,” shouted Tremblay. “Stay on task, or by all the angry space gods security will escort you down the brig!” He waved vaguely toward the blast doors which used to have a pair of marine jacks stationed to either side, but no longer sported a security team of any kind.
The science officer drew his mouth into a thin line but said nothing.
“Main Engine at 40%. Both secondaries lit,” reported the Helmsman.
“Shield strength at 89%. We’re starting to feel the drain,” reported the crewman on shields.
“Increasing all engines to 75% of maximum,” said DuPont.
“Wait. No!” exclaimed Tremblay looking alarmed but the Helmsman had already keyed in the increase.
There was a loud bang that reverberated throughout the ship. This was followed by a terrible scraping noise, as the ship broke free of the Inertial Sump.
“Taking a ship to flank speed outside of a combat situation and without a direct order is a court martial-able offense, Helmsman,” Tremblay said, blood rushing to his cheeks.
“We’ve broken free of the Inertial Sump,” a crewman at sensors reported in a small voice.
“I have the Chief Engineer on the line,” reported the communications tech. “He sounds angry. Something about broken transfer cables and trying to destroy one side of the ship.”
I waved my hand, “Tell Spalding to focus on getting the Lucky Clover ready for combat and not to worry about his precious paint job.”
“Looks like we’ve left the pirate cruiser behind,” said one of the sensor operators.
I raised an eyebrow at this.
“That screeching sound was probably us breaking our connection to the pirate cruiser, and the Helmsman then scraping the two hulls together in his haste to break free,” Tremblay said with a nod in the my direction.
“What do you think we should do about the prize,” I said, waving vaguely behind myself in reference to the former pirate cruiser and current prize ship they had just left floating in space.
Tremblay paused for a moment to think, then turned to the sensor operators. “How far away is that settlement ship, and how many pirates are we looking at?”
The sensor operators jerked and turned back to their screens, imputing the relevant queries.
“I read a single Cutter and a pair of Corvettes,” said the first one.
“No, there are three cutters, and one of the Corvettes is drifting, she’s badly damaged, Sir,” reported another.
The third gasped, “There isn't just one Settlement ship in the system. There are three, and one of them is breaking up!”
“Demon-Disciples of Murphy,” Tremblay cursed the pirates. “Either we deploy the bucking cables before we get too far away and take her under tow. Or we forget about the prize ship and max out the engines to help those settlers. There’s no way we can do both, since we can’t tow her and make max speed at the same time, Admiral.” He paused in consideration. “I think the away team from Engineering can worry about the prize for a while, Sir. Those Settlers are adrift and dying in cold space,” he finally advised.
The thought of that broken settler ship was all it took for me to quickly reach a decision.
“Full speed into the battle, Helmsman,” I said, my voice wobbling with emotion. “We can worry about the money later, forget the prize. Those Settlers need our help!” I slammed my fist on the arm of the Admiral’s Throne. The squeal of dented metal sounded and I realized that I was still in power armor. I had forgotten to change back into the Admiral’s uniform before the point transfer.
“Blast it,” I said, cursing my own stupidity. “Someone put a display of the battle up on the main screen,” I continued harshly, more angry at my own stupidity in damaging the Admiral’s Throne than anything else.
It seemed like forever as we crawled to the scene of the battle but in reality it was less than fifteen minutes. Thanks to the transponder coordinates included by the Settler Ship in the distress call and a generous helping of luck we had landed, if not top of the pirates, a lot closer than a greenhorn crew towing a second cruiser in their hyper bubble had any right to expect. That’s what the Navigator swore to me anyway when I verbalized my frustration with how far away we were initially.
“Instruct the two Promethean cruisers to join us and form triangle formation with us at the point,” I commanded.
There was a pause while people scrambled, then Tremblay spoke up, “The Medium Cruisers and the captured pirate conversion haven’t arrived in the system yet, Admiral.”
“What are you talking about? They were right behind us and supposed to jump at the same time,” I said, a knot forming in my stomach.
“I mean either they aborted their hyperdrive somehow or they’re not coming,” he said shamefaced. “We missed it, Admiral. In all the excitement we didn’t notice that our three sister ship’s never arrived.”
“You said it's almost impossible to stop a point transfer after you’ve exceeded threshold levels. Did I miss something, or did the Promethians and the other prize ship exceed threashold levels before we jumped out of the system?”
“Yes. It is nearly impossible without a major explosion, and they had passed the threashold before we jumped, Admiral,” answered Tremblay.
I turned away and clenched my fists. Instead of a fleet of three cruisers to deal with the pirates, as of right now the rescue effort consisted of one unarmed battleship and an un-crewed prize ship with a small away team from engineering to manage its strange particle generator.
The long minutes getting into range of the battle were not wasted. The sensor team put the time to good use, constantly updating the main screen with new information as it came in. The final tally was quite different from the initial readings by the crewmen in the sensor pit.
It turned out that the two Corvettes weren’t pirates, instead they were escorts for the settlement ships. One was damaged but still fighting in a desperate attempt to shield the two remaining and still intact settlement ships. The other corvette was dead in the water, venting atmosphere and currently being boarded by two opportunistic pirate cutters.
On the pirate side of the equation, it seemed the pirates had started out with seven cutters. Two of which were damaged and had limped away from combat with the corvettes, biding their time until the colony ships were unprotected. Two more were boarding the stricken corvette, while the remaining three were furiously pounding away at the still active defender.
“Why aren’t they running,” I asked, obviously confused. “The Clover should be able to crush a half dozen little cutters easily. Your thoughts, Mr. Tremblay?”
The First Officer bit his lip. “I don’t know. Those Cutters are fast little beggars, maybe they think they can loot and pillage up until the very last moment and run off before we can catch them,” he said, sounding uncertain. “These are pirates though, I can’t imagine they think they can handle a Heavy Cruiser, even with the full seven of them.” He paused and certainty filled his voice as he talked through the situation, “They have to know they can’t win and even if their leader has some miracle strategy he thinks could pull it off, the other captains will realize they’re bound to take losses. Pirates are very risk averse.”
“Two of them have already been damaged,” I pointed out. “Two more are boarding that corvette, they have to be taking losses storming the corvette. That doesn’t seem very risk averse to me.”
Tremblay frowned and shook his head. “It has to be only minor damage for them to escape the Corvettes. Corvettes are bigger and more powerful than Cutters. As for any losses the individual ships sustain taking the stricken corvette, those are just human losses. Pirate captains and officers are much more concerned with losing equipment than with losing men. There are always more idiots looking to sign on with a pirate vessel for the plunder. It's ships that are in short supply.”
“So taking a larger ship like the corvette is actually a smart play for a pirate captain,” I mused aloud, nodding slowly as I processed Tremblay's analysis. “That still doesn’t explain why they think they can move out of range in time.”
“They can’t,” Tremblay said shortly, glaring at the tactical picture as if that would somehow explain what the pirates thought they were doing. "They should be scrambling to disengage and pull out before we can get over there and blast them to kingdom come.”
A few minutes later they received a transmission from one of the pirate vessels.
A figure in light combat armor appeared on the screen. He was sitting in a similar but much smaller version of the same chair Jason was in. “Well met brothers-in-blood. This is Captain Strider of the Broken Maiden. Piranha Squadron is willing to cut Black Philip and a member of the Blood Raiders in for a share of the spoils,” he said, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. Then he leaned back in his chair waiting for a response.
“Philip who?” I inquired, looking at the former intelligence officer.
Lieutenant Tremblay shook his head from side to side. “Not a clue. Neither this Black Philip or the so called Blood Raiders are in any database I’ve ever had access to.”
“Why do they think we’re here to help them,” I wondered aloud. “It has to be some kind of a trap.”
Tremblay hesitated, “I can’t imagine any other reason they’d send us ‘hail fellow pirate, well met,’ messages over an unencrypted channel. Unless it was a trap.”
One of the Communication Tech’s from the Signal’s section raised his had.
“Yes,” Tremblay said tersely, looking at the Com-Tech.
“They are using an encrypted line, sirs,” said the tech.
“We broke it that fast,” Tremblay said in disbelief. “Must be a weak one they expected for us to break.”
“No, sir,” the tech said shaking his head. “Its one of the older encryptions in our SDF database. Its more than seventy something years out of date. The DI automatically ciphered it as it passed through our system.”
“Impossible,” Tremblay growled, “How would a swarm of penny ante pirates get hold of an outdated Caprian encryption algorithm.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I said, breaking into the conversation. “How they got the encryption doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we have a pirate encryption key and they still think we’re reinforcements come to cut ourselves in for a piece of the pie.”
Tremblay purpled, “That’s no pirate encryption key,” he started hotly. “That’s Caprian SDF software!”
I jumped to my feet and stomped the deck with a loud crash, cutting him off. “It is now,” I said flatly, towering over the First Officer in my power armor, “and because we have it, we’re going to use it.” I gave the first officer a shark like grin, full of nothing but bared teeth and bravado. “It's time someone taught these pirates a lesson.”
I kept the fierce grin in place because I knew that without it, I would wilt like a hot house flower on a cold winter night. I had never been trained for any of this. I was a man who had the proverbial tiger by the tail; if I dared show weakness or let go, I was finished.
“Communications, open a channel to the pirates and make sure to use the same encryption key they are,” I ordered, with a playful tone.
I waited until I was sure the pirate captain was receiving the transmission before speaking. Schooling my face into its most haughty expression, I opened my mouth. “Stand aside pipsqueak, and watch how a real warship handles a juicy little convoy like this,” I said from my perch on the Admiral's Throne. There were no uniformed bridge crew within range of the pick up to give away the game. Only a single young man dressed in a battle suit and sitting on the gigantic command chair.
The Pirate Captain flushed. “Who do you think you’re talking to? If you think the Piranhas will just stand by after doing most of the heavy lifting, you‘ve got another think-”
I spoke over him, cutting the pirate captain off midsentence. “Stop dancing around that corvette like a band of prancing ballerinas, Captain Spider,” I said, deliberately getting the pirate’s name wrong.
“Its Strider,” exclaimed the Pirate slamming his fist down on the arm of his chair. “And we’re no blasted ballerinas!”
“You’ll get your share, Captain Spider, don’t you worry your little head about that. Equal shares all around.” I hardened my voice and continued, “Now gather your ships into fighting formation and be ready to watch and learn,” I said with another shark like grin, then gestured for communications to cut the outgoing signal.
I turned to smile at Lieutenant Tremblay, “That should keep them properly confused as to our intentions.”
“There’s a Caprian registered ship in there, Admiral,” Tremblay said cautiously.
I blinked and looked at the First Officer with a frown. “Yes,” I said slowly, inviting him to continue.
“And as Caprians, it's our duty to protect it,” Tremblay added cautiously.
I barely suppressed a surge of irritation at Tremblay’s continued insistence at looking out for only Caprian interests and schooled my features into a blank mask. When I felt my temper was under control, I spoke in a level voice. “Agreed."
“Well…” Tremblay hesitated.
“Well what?” I demanded, glancing at the tactical screen. Several of the Pirates were moving closer to one another. Yes! They were actually going for it. Just like I had hoped, they were gathering together in a loose formation. I wasn’t a trained naval officer, and hadn’t known whether or not they’d fall for it. But it certainly appeared that they had taken the bait.
“What are the Admiral’s intentions, regarding the other ships in the Convoy? If I may ask, Sir, for the record,” Officer Tremblay said formally.
I glared at him in irritation for still not answering the question. Then it occurred to me that Tremblay might be wondering if I was seriously considering dividing up the convoy between the Clover and the scum of the space lanes.
My nostrils flared. “What? Did you actually think I was going to help those pirates finish that last Corvette, and then claim the Caprian Settler as our part of the plunder? Then what? Just take off for home space like nothing had happened?” I flared my nostrils half-consciously. “Is that what you thought, Officer Tremblay,” I asked, my voice rising to a yell by the time I was finished speaking. “That I’d leave two ships full of helpless settlers to the tender mercy of pirates just because they weren’t from Capria?”
Tremblay turned pale. “I admit it isn’t the first choice. The thought of abandoning entire families of colonists to the mercy of pirates, it makes me sick. But without weapons or the gunnery crews to man them, I’m not sure what we can do,” He stared at the floor, “Those Cutters are small and fast, they can dart in and out, firing the whole time. While their weapons may not be very powerful compared to what we usually carry and our armor thick enough to stop heavy weapons, can we take twelve hours of pounding while simultaneously recharging our stardrive? Not to mention shielding the normal space thrusters for breaking the inertial sump after we do make good our escape. Even reattaching the prize ship while under fire might be too much…” Tremblay slowly trailed off.
I knew my expression was thunderous but I couldn’t help myself.
“Where was your concern for these helpless settlers back in AZT89443, Officer Tremblay,” I sneered. “As for these pirate cutters, we’re already dealing with them. Every second they’re not firing on that single remaining Escort ship is another second that escort can carry out emergency repairs and another second of reprieve for every colonists stuck inside one of those mammoth unarmed deathtraps.” I paused to draw in a breath. “As for our own weaponry, I’ll wager you this ship, that for every weapon system and turret our chief engineer puts back to rights, you’ll find a crew of men ready, eager and willing to fire them at the enemy.”
I stopped to lock gazes with the former intelligence officer.
“Sir, it was not my intention-” Tremblay started.
“Can it, Mr. Tremblay,” I snapped. “I have a battle to fight.” I turned to the Helmsman. “Point us straight at those pirate scum, Mr. DuPont. The order is full speed ahead and straight down their throats.”
“Yes, Sir,” the Helmsman said faintly.
“And someone get my Chief Engineer on the line. I want my weapon systems and I want them now,” I shouted. “Tell him I need something to fire at those pirates and will accept no excuses. He had his chance to Captain this vessel and he turned it down flat. Well, by Saint Murphy’s ornery wrench, its time he showed us why he got the cushy job down in Engineering!”
By this time the ship was minutes away from the hastily assembled pirate squadron and gathering speed by the moment.
I deliberately ignored the First Officer and stared at the Master Plot on the massive main screen instead.
“Sir! We’re going too fast, we have to slow down,” Said the Helmsman, finally gaining his courage.
“No! Full speed ahead I’ll not give them another instant to change their mind,” I barked.
“Shifting course slightly to avoid the Cutters,” said the Helmsman. “We’ll still pass right beside them.”
A thought occurred me in that moment. A terrible, horrible thought. “No,” I exclaimed, the idea taking form inside my head. I jumped to my battle armored feet and leapt to the helmsman’s console. “Take us right through the middle of their formation,” I said, leaning over the helmsman and pointing to the small cluster of pirate icons on the main screen.
“That’s insane. At this speed we might hit one,” argued DuPont.
I grabbed him by the back of his uniform and slammed the Helmsman into his flight console. Then, with a whine of power assisted servos, grabbed the man’s head in the heavy metal gauntlets. I forcefully turned the squirming Helmsman’s head toward his console, then dropped a hand to the man’s neck where it met his shoulders.
“Maximum strength to the forward shields,” I yelled to the crewmen at tactical. “Double their strength and overcharge them if you have to.”
“Admiral, this isn’t some holo-drama,” shouted Officer Tremblay. “We could all be killed,” he said, pulling out a small sidearm he had hidden in the pocket of his uniform. Clearly he had an idea where the young Admiral was going with this and didn’t like it.
The first officer had wanted to complain about not having a weapon to turn on the pirates. Well I, Admiral Jason Montagne Vekna was going to show him a weapon, and a terrifying one at that!
I turned my back on the first officer and ignored the blaster pistol pointed in my general direction. With all this battle armor the first officer would need a head shot anyway. Scrunching my head down in the battlesuit to give the Tremblay a smaller target, I leaned my face close to the Helmsman's. “Ramming speed, Mr. DuPont. Aim for as many of those cutters as you can,” I said right in the crewman’s ear.
The young Helmsman shook his head and started sweating. “No,” he mumbled all but inaudibly.
“I gave you an order, crewman,” I said, unsure what to do if the man refused. Its not like I was actually willing to follow through with the implied threat and crush the man’s head or break his neck, and I only knew the basics of plotting a course through normal space. There was no way, outside of sheer luck, that I could set a course that would hit those cutters.
The man started sweating but still refused to move his hands toward the console.
An evil thought occurred to me in that moment. Despite everything I had ever done, everyone still blamed me for the crimes of my family as if by my very birth I was tainted. Well, maybe it was time to use some of that taint and scorn they heaped on me time and time again, and turn the reputation of my Montagne ancestors to good use.
“Everyone back home likes to talk about the Montagne’s,” I said quietly into the Helmsman’s ear. “About how we’re natural murderers, mass-murders even given the chance, born with the blood of innocents on our hands. Yet, for all the bigotry and hateful talk, people still think it's safe to ignore the chain of command and tell a Montagne in a battle suit to go to Hades.” Servos whined as I leaned down so far that my face was almost touching the helmsman’s cheek. DuPont gulped but still didn’t move, seemingly paralyzed where he sat. I decided to give it one more push before giving it all up as a bad bluff.
“Are you refusing a lawful order and telling one of those evil, vindictive, natural born, blood-feuding killers to go to Hades, Helmsman?”
DuPont stayed rooted in one spot and I winced in disappointment. Then, as if a pause button had been un-pressed, the Helmsman leaned forward, fingers flying over the console, and returned the ship’s course back to its original track. He made a few minor corrections and sat back with a gasp. His forehead drenched in sweat.
I released the Helmsman but stayed nearby, intently watching the main screen.
“Instruct the ship’s remaining gunners and any crewmen we have on the gundeck to man every weapon that’s in working order. They are to fire on the pirate ships as we bear, Mr. Cloudhammer,” Officer Tremblay finally said, instructing one of the trainee’s at tactical.
There wasn’t a lot of time after that for oration because the next thing I knew, we had reached the tiny pirate cutters.
There was a loud bang that shook the ship with a sickening lurch and knocked my battle-suited bulk off my feet. This was rapidly followed by a series of small pops, like rain on a tin roof and the lights on the Flag Bridge flickered and dimmed before returning to full strength.
Was it my imagination, or had the air recyclers stopped working as well? Perhaps ramming the pirate vessels might not have been the smartest thing to do after all.
I started to pull myself to my feet, the battlesuit servos whining in protest. I was only halfway up when the ship started to exert gee forces toward one of the walls. It was no worse than an aircar making a hard turn, but still enough to return me reeling back to the floor.
I tucked, rolled and slammed against one of the metal bulkheads, most of the force of the blow absorbed by the power armor but without the helmet on, the back of the my head hit the metal wall with enough force that I saw nothing but stars.
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