Hellfire (THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY) (53 page)

“Sir, yes, sir,” Teevie replied, though her tone was a little doubtful.

“D’you want my seat, sir?” Spyder asked her, pulling his bootheels down from the edge of the command console. Since they were at dock in a post-battle zone, with the Salik kicked out of nearspace and Ia’s assurances the Salik wouldn’t come back for the rest of the day, he hadn’t bothered to latch his harness in place.

“No, that’s alright,” she dismissed, moving to the other side of the cabin. Fetching her headset from her pocket, she hooked the device over head and ear. “I’ll take the backup comm station for this call.”

“Receiving pingback, sir,” Teevie told her a moment later. “We’re on a one-second delay, Captain; you can have a normal conversation. Assuming anyone picks up.”

Ia settled into the seat. Out of habit, not need, she reached for the harness straps. Just as she buckled the last set in place, the main screen lit with a view of Admiral John Genibes’s face. “Greetings, Admiral. I’m sorry to interrupt the R&D strategy session.”

“What’s the emergency, Captain?” Genibes asked, barely blinking at her mention of what, exactly, he’d been doing.

“I have just encountered interference by Feyori Meddling, sir,” she stated. That made him blink. “Certain individuals are moving to counterfaction me, and a particular Meddler has just
drifted through the Zubeneschamali System, nudging the minds of the crew aboard Battle Platform
Justicar
.”

Genibes lowered his greying eyebrows. “That’s a serious situation, Captain. And a serious accusation. How badly are they compromised, and who is it?”

“Subtly, and so far it only affects the repair crews. You don’t need to pull them off their job details, though you should suggest to the Psi Division to come out here and sweep their minds for Meddler fingerprints,” Ia said.

“That’s a serious problem, and it does need looking into, but it’s not what I would call an emergency,” her superior stated. “Do I need to define to you what ‘emergency’ means, Captain?”

“No, sir. I’ve only outlined the cause of the problem. The effect of it is the repair department on board the
Justicar
is deliberately blocking our attempts to receive materials for immediate repair. Materials specifically earmarked for the
Hellfire
to use at this place and time,” Ia told him. “I need you to issue a Command Staff–level broadcast to all TUPSF repair facilities that the
Hellfire
has priority-one repair status, wherever we go. And if you could, to pass the word along to our allied forces in the rest of the Alliance.”

He flushed. “
That
would require both the Admiral-General and the Premier backing it up. The other races won’t tolerate it without government approval. And I could hardly think you’d need to force everyone else farther down the list in every single repair situation, soldier.”

“Certainly not, sir. Every single instance where we can spare the time, I will gladly let the others go first when it’s a temporal priority for them,” she said. “You
know
I will. I just need the
carte blanche
enforced by a formal, fleetwide statement. That way, if this ever comes up again—and the greater probabilities say it will—I can shock off the Meddler fingerprints by threatening those who balk with Fatality Thirty-Five.”

He gave her a wry look. “Sabotage is a very strong accusation, Captain. There’s a reason why it’s a Fatality.”

“I know, sir,” she agreed. “In most cases, the mere threat of the cane will be enough.”

“Be careful
you
don’t end up on the wrong side of that carrot and stick,” he warned her.

“I am fully aware of my double-indemnity clause, sir,” Ia
said. “I have been taking every precaution possible to ensure my crew remains the most disciplined, reliable Company in the Space Force because of it. In order to
remain
that reliable force, I need to get the
Hellfire
’s replacement parts out of the
Justicar
’s holds and slapped onto my ship, and get it done without wasting half an hour comparing asteroid sizes with whoever’s in charge of repairs over there. If you will issue the Command Staff priority notice, that will cover it.”

He sighed roughly and poked at something below the pickup view at his desk. “Let me contact the Admiral-General to clear this with her. If you want it broadcast fleetwide, it’s not going to be encrypted unless you’re willing to wait a few days for all of it to be distributed. I wouldn’t think an open broadcast would be wise since it could force your Meddler foe to change tactics.”

“Start with the
Justicar
and take your time with the rest,” Ia told him. “We won’t be in port anywhere for another five days at the earliest.”

“Shakk,”
the admiral muttered, shaking his head. “The
Feyori
are getting involved in this…Any chance they’ll side with the Salik?”

“A few already have, but only because those are their assigned Game positions. Most of them are held in check by the positionings of the rest. They’re arrogant asteroids, but they do abide by their own rules. Thank you for the authorization, sir,” she added politely. “You know I won’t abuse it. I just need something more tangibly specific than my
carte-blanche
authorizations currently suggest.”

“While you have me on the line, any suggestions for the R&D folk?” he asked her.

Ia shook her head. “No, sir. The best options will be selected without my interference, or I’d have warned you in advance.”

“Thank the stars for smart people and small favors. Genibes out,” he added, reaching for another control. The screen turned black.

Nodding, Ia unbuckled her restraints. The timestreams had smoothed out. “You should have the right authorizations in about ten minutes, Teevie. I’ll forward an updated version of our supplies request to your post from my office, with the exact location of each item on board the
Justicar
, so they won’t be able to pretend they can’t find anything.”

“Aye, sir,” Teevie said. “Thank you, sir.”

“Bureaucracy’s a right pain in th’arse, innit?” Spyder quipped, putting his feet back up on the edge of his console. “Especially when you get th’ Meddlers in th’ mix.”

“You have the bridge, Lieutenant,” Ia reminded him, rising and heading for the back door. “Try to remember to dust off your footprints before the lieutenant commander comes on watch, will you?”

JULY 9, 2496 T.S.

JS 723 SYSTEM

“Bogey at 49 by 299…298…295,” York stated from the communications seat. With an entire sphere’s worth for their field of view, and a set of computers that were smart enough to sort out potential problems in a sky of data, but not smart enough to decide what to do with it, more than one set of eyes was needed to manage the flow in an ice-filled system like this one. “Moving fast with what looks like weapons hot, sirs.”

“Looks like th’ Squid’s back,” Spyder quipped, checking his own screen at the command console. “Same config as before. Yakko doesn’t know when t’ give up.”

O’Keefe muttered something under her breath, hands dancing across the controls. Her movements drifted the
Hellfire
to the right a little bit, but not strongly. Ia wasn’t strapped into a seat, and the yeoman knew it. She also knew it was likely there were plenty of others around the ship who weren’t strapped in for maneuvers. “Captain, do you want to take the helm?”

“Not necessary. No sudden moves, Yeoman,” she told O’Keefe. She had emerged from her office with the foreknowledge of the best way to handle this encounter. “Continue on course to the Dlmvla mining station.”

“Then it
is
th’ Squid?” Spyder asked, lifting his brows. The nickname had been voted on informally for the Salik hunter-pilot crazy enough to try to engage them. This was her third time finding and following the
Hellfire
, though her ship wasn’t close enough yet to fire accurately.

Douglas spoke up from the operations seat. “Sir, we’re badly damaged. Deschamps says his repair teams have parts strewn
all over the aft and stern lower decks. One good hit to the rear of the ship, and there could be a lot of flying debris.”

“Yes, I know that, Private. And you know that, but
they
don’t know that,” Ia soothed. Moving from the back door to the pilot’s seat, she touched O’Keefe on the shoulder and gave the curly-haired woman a reassuring smile. “Rotate the ship 180 degrees, Yeoman. Point the muzzle of our main cannon at the Squid, but continue on course. Be mindful of the repair crews and take your time. Head for the mining station and cozy up our middle to their number 17 hatch. At all times until the last few minutes needed to dock, keep the main cannon pointed at the Squid.

“Private York, inform them we will be arriving in time for tea, and that we’d like a canister of frozen
ksisk
delivered to our airlock. Offer them a single teddy bear in return, then contact Private Bethu-ne’. Ask him to select one of the teddy bears from his collection as a gift for the Dlmvla—the older and more worn, the better. Tell him he has fifteen minutes to p-suit up and get the bear to the amidships Deck 12 portside airlock for the exchange.”

York blinked twice, bemused by her odd set of orders, then turned back to his console. “…Aye, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”

“Y’ don’ get it, do you?” Lieutenant Spyder asked rhetorically. He had given Ia a quizzical look when she first stepped onto the bridge, but hadn’t relinquished his seat, yet. “Well, the Cap’n an’ I do. Xenopsychology an’ all that.”

York snorted. “Well, I’m glad
you
do. Mind explaining it to us lowly peons?”

“The Salik, most unfortunately, aren’t stupid enough to open up an extra war front,” Ia told him. “Discounting the Greys, and with little competition from the other races for the various methane-rich worlds out there, the Dlmvla are the single largest nation in the known galaxy. If you counted the entire galaxy, the Solaricans would come in at third place and the Dlmvla somewhere around fifteenth,” she added dryly. “But not in this known patch of it, so the felinoids don’t count.

“Up to this point, the Salik have been very careful to avoid Dlmvlan targets. They won’t even attack anything near a methane-rich world if there’s a single Dlmvlan ship in the system. The Dlmvla think this might be a courtship method of reverse psychology, ignoring them in order to seek an alliance,”
Ia added lightly, “but the Salik honestly have no interest in contacting them. At least, until the Alliance is shattered, all the tastier species are firmly rolled up in their tentacles, and they’ve rebuilt their war machine strong enough to take up the hunt for new prey.”

“That’s why they ’aven’t fired on us yet,” Spyder pointed out, looking up briefly from his screens. “Back in th’ Corps, we heard news ’bout our old Sergeant Ia, after she got jumped up t’ be a lieutenant in th’ Navy. Nothin’ specific, just that she’d play up th’ enemies’ weaknesses psychologically. Pirates, Salik, smugglers, didn’ matter. When she didn’t ask fer this seat, I sussed out why she wasn’t inna hurry. Salik won’t fire on us this close to th’ methane-breathers.”

“Which is why we’re safe to dock,” Ia agreed, nodding at her 2nd Platoon lieutenant. “
Leaving
is another matter. At that point, it’ll be third watch, and I’ll take the helm. We can’t ask the Dlmvla to help us with our repairs, so we’ll be here a good twelve hours, but if everyone works hard, that’ll be enough time to get the hull solid again.”

“And the frozen
ksisk
?” Private Sharpe asked, eyes on his navigation screens. “What is that, some kind of fish?”

“A very tasty berry, but only once it’s been aired out,” Ia stated dryly. “That’s because it’s colloquially known as the ‘fart fruit’ to the Human colonists manning the one M-class world in the otherwise Dlmvlan-run system of Kvuu Zhwinnh 525. A single canister’s worth of frosted methane crystals isn’t going to bother us, and I’m in the mood to tease the Dlmvla with an exchange of a fairly valuable but edible commodity for a near-worthless but much more permanent child’s toy.”

“Captain?” O’Keefe asked, frowning in thought. “You
do
know that the Dlmvla are more than three meters tall, right? Our Deck 12 starboard airlock is designed for two-meter-tall beings. I can’t guarantee a solid docking seal if they open up that big door of theirs.”

“That’s the other reason why Private Bethu-ne’ needs to suit up for hard vacuum,” Ia told her. “Trading the bear for the canister without pressurization will ensure neither side offends the other with unwanted gasses. It’s a subtle courtesy and a subtle insult at the same time, and the Dlmvla will love it. They
think
the Salik might be courting them with illogic, but I actively am.”

“And when we’re ready to leave, sir?” O’Keefe asked her, making a minor course correction.

“As soon as we’re repaired and clear of the station, we’ll be making our way around the gas giant’s curve. At about halfway into our run-to-jump, a rather large fleet of Salik summoned by the Squid will leap out of the night and attempt to destroy us…followed by a rather large fleet of prewarned Alliance ships.” Ia grinned at the second watch pilot. “It should be fun.”

Nodding to Spyder, who had the watch, she walked off the bridge again. She had just enough time for a four-hour nap, followed by eight hours of hard work helping the engineering teams catch up on the needed swap-outs of various refitted and repaired parts, and a long, tough, but ultimately victorious fight against a good chunk of the local Salik fleet. A pity it would be only a small fraction of the whole.

Afterward, the
Hellfire
would need extensive repairs, more than her Company could handle. She knew there would be three Battle Platforms coming, though, more than enough to spare them the repair gantries that would be needed. She also knew that the Squid would get away and live to track them again, but that was all factored into her plans. As was not saying much to the Dlmvla this visit, other than swapping an old teddy bear for noxiously sweet fruit.

At least God lets me amuse myself at certain points along this path.

AUGUST 8, 2496 T.S.