He breathed a huge sigh of relief as they jumped toward the second recal system.
Only to find yet another minefield. Only an excess of caution had prevented him from blundering into it. He sighed, and put the converted tugs to work clearing the mines. This war was getting less simple by the minute!
They were less than halfway through clearing the mines in their third minefield when there was an emergency transmission from one of the tugs. "
Capitan
! It is a trap! This mine is not deac . . ." An actinic glare in his viewscreen told him that the last word would never be completed. Damn! They were devils! Obviously, they had sown some traps; fake mines containing bombs that would go off only when taken aboard a ship or subjected to normal deactivation procedures.
Captain de la Vega was faced with both a professional and a moral dilemma. He had already lost one of his two converted tugs. His sense of duty and his own machismo argued that he should continue his mission.
However, there was a nagging feeling that he should drop the mine clearing for the moment, and run for Ilocan. Admiral Gonzalez-Villareal knew nothing of recent developments. He did not know of the loss of
El Cid
and all the minesweepers. Nor did he know of the conditions at home on Santiago, or that there would be no supply shipments for the foreseeable future. More to the point, the Admiral had no minesweepers either. De la Vega had only one of his converted tugs left, and there was a feeling that perhaps he should not put it at risk without at least giving the Admiral a chance to override his orders.
Finally, he decided. He recorded messages in which he tried to explain everything, and placed them in two message torps, which he then sent through the Ilocan jump point. His sensors detected no explosions, so he assumed both torps had made jump. Nagging voice in his head stilled, he returned to the mine clearing operation.
The mines were cleared and he'd jumped for Ilocan before the Admiral's answer arrived; but since the reply instructed him to immediately report to the Admiral at Ilocan, no harm was done.
Except that the Admiral's message torp was intercepted by a gunboat. The base ship immediately informed the mine that
Furioso
was returning to Ilocan, and would probably remain there while the Admiral considered his next move.
"Cale! Cale!" Zant clumped into
Cheetah
's lounge still suited, except for his helmet. "There you are! This is it, Cale! This is our chance!" He was waving a printout.
"Calm down, Zant," Cale soothed. "What is it? Our chance for what?"
Zant waved the printout again. "There are no, repeat no, major warships in the Santiago system at the moment.
Furioso
just jumped to Ilocan. If you're serious about raiding Santiago, this is the time!"
Cale snatched the printout. It was a translation of Admiral Gonzalez-Villareal's orders to Captain De la Vega. De la Vega was ordered to report to Admiral Gonzalez-Villareal to report and 'for consultation on future actions'. Zant was right. Both of Gonzalez-Villareal's destroyers would be tied up for weeks at Ilocan while their Captains attended meeting after meeting, "consulting" with the Admiral. This was their best chance. Besides, the number of prizes had tapered off as Santiago's trade dried up. Most of the remaining Santie-flagged ships were in orbit around Santiago itself. Even those that could find a cargo were reluctant to brave the minefields and gunboats.
Cale hurried to find Mong. He showed Mong the message, and touched off a flurry of activity.
Ilocan's Revenge
was readied, as all available boat pilots were rounded up, sobered up, or just poured into their bunks aboard.
Meanwhile Cale was making sure that
Cheetah
's ammunition supply for the quickfirer was replenished and that her fusactor was at peak output. For the most part Tess managed to keep him from obsessing over details. Zant's
Strengl
had been in
Cheetah
's small hold since their arrival from Torlon, but it would be released before the final jump to Santiago.
Strengl
s were equipped with jump engines, and both the
Ilocan's Revenge's
astrogation comp and Zant's would be slaved to Tess's so they could be certain of arriving in the Santiago system simultaneously. This would give them a better chance of survival in the almost certain case that the jump point was picketed.
Privately, Cale was glad for Zant's
Strengl
. He hoped that the fighter's small jump engine would be able to spin down, and her inertial drive spin up much faster than either the
Ilocan's Revenge
's or
Cheetah
's, which should give the fighter weapons and shields before the picket could man its own weapons.
Cale didn't even bother trying to leave Dee behind, since he preferred to fight battles he had at least a small chance of winning. Besides, he needed a gunner, and she was experienced.
After a short, hurried briefing, they lifted off;
Ilocan's Revenge
's astrogation comp slaved to
Cheetah
's. Zant's
Strengl
remained in
Cheetah
's small hold until just before the last jump into the Santiago system.
The tech manning
Diego Del Florio
's sensor suite monitoring Santiago's jump point was bored. It was 0400 ship's time, and he had a seemingly eternal two more hours on watch. When he had been assigned to
Del Florio
a year ago, he'd been mildly disappointed not to have been assigned aboard a destroyer, but pleased that at least he had been assigned to a real warship, a frigate. The
real
disappointment had come when
Del Florio
had been picked to remain behind in the Santiago system instead of going to kick some Ilocano ass. The good news was that they were due to be rotated to Ilocan, to relieve one of the ships there. No one had really expected the war to last long enough for rotations to be necessary; but the Ilocano savages were stubborn, and so next month they would be going into combat!, well, at least to a combat zone. Rumor had it that all the fighting was on the ground, but they would still get combat pay and a combat zone medal.
A needle on his panel stirred, and then jumped. Finally! Some traffic was emerging. Since those damned Ilocanos had found a way to mine the jump point, very few ships dared to transit.
He frowned. Odd. The readings were
almost
right for a Beta-class; but they were far enough off to be confusing. Before he reported the emergence, he had better double-check.
No, the readings were accurate; that was no Beta-class. Then what? The only thing that made sense was
two
ships in close company, with a slaved astrogation comp. But that meant . . .
"
Teniente
!" He shouted.
The Lieutenant who was Officer of the Watch roused from a lurid daydream. "What is it, Gomez?" he asked irritably.
"An emergence,
Teniente
. It appears to be two ships in close company."
The lieutenant jumped to his feet."But slaved comps are a combat procedure," he said. "Check your figures again."
"I checked them three times,
Teniente
," Gomez, complained. He turned his attention back to his screens. "
Teniente
! There appear to be a number of small craft that weren't there before!"
A chill ran down the lieutenant's spine. He whirled to the comm tech and snapped. "General Quarters! Sound the alarm. We are being attacked!"
The drowsy morning watch joined the sleepy spacers rolling out of bunks in cursing their Captain as the alarm sounded. Another damned drill. And at this time of night! Then the Officer of the Watch's voice sounded excitedly from every speaker. "Battle Stations! Battle Stations! This is
not
a drill! I repeat, this is
not
a drill! All personnel to battle stations!", and panic erupted.
The gunnery tech, still suspicious that it was only a drill, followed his procedures and raised the retractable five-shot missile launcher that comprised
Del Florio
's main battery and began charging the lasers in the ship's nose.
The missile rack rose just in time to attract the attention of a nearby boat pilot, and a bolt from his laser fused the controls and cut the cables.
Though the ships had to wait for their jump engines to spin down and their inertial drives to light off to power their shields and weapons, the boats had no such limitations. As soon as
Ilocan's Revenge
emerged, she opened her cargo doors, and eleven gunboats poured out, driving max toward the unprepared frigate.
With her main armament destroyed, the boats turned their attention to the secondary weapons, the nose-mounted lasers. Laser bolts and quickfirer rockets sheeted toward the weapons emplacements. The design of Old-Empire-style frigates had not changed in centuries; the weapons locations were
very
well known. Both lasers became non-functional in seconds, and the boats turned their attention to antennas and sensor arrays.
Meanwhile, Zant's
Strengl
had spun up its inertial drive, and headed for
Del Florio
's vulnerable inertial drive nozzles.
By the time the confused crew had nearly all reached their battle stations, the battle was over. The weapons techs found there were no weapons left to operate and the engineering crew found her inertial drive inoperable.
Meanwhile, the Captain had reached the bridge, just in time to hear a voice communication over the short-range comm on the Santiago military frequency.
"We are privateers commissioned by the government of Ilocan," it said. "Your weapons and inertial drives are destroyed. Surrender or die."
"There is no government of Ilocan," the Captain replied. "Ilocan is under the control of the Republic of Santiago."
"I won't argue political niceties with you, Captain," the voice replied. "Boarders are inside your vessel as we speak. If they encounter any resistance, your ship and crew will be destroyed."
A quick glance at the tell-tales showed that the emergency releases had been used to enter
Del Florio
's airlocks. The captain sighed. His crew was unarmed, and improvised weapons would be of little effect on suited, armed invaders. His shoulder slumped as he saw his career ending. "We surrender, under protest," he said slowly.
"Good thing." The voice came from behind the Captain. He whirled to see a suited figure standing in the bridge hatch, a blaster in hand. Three others followed as the first entered. All four opened their faceplates as the leader reported "Bridge Secure," and one of his men headed straight for the comm station.
The leader approached the Captain. "
Capitan
," he said in fluent Santiagan, "the first thing I need is for you to get on the speaker and announce the surrender. You will also order your people not to resist or interfere with mine."
The Captain sighed again and nodded. As he turned to his command chair to make the announcements, the leader turned to the man who had pushed the comm tech from his station and was operating it with obvious familiarity. "Did they get a message out?" he asked in standard.
The other shook his head as he replied in the same language. "No, sir. Not a peep. They thought it was a drill."
The leader nodded. "Excellent. Engineering, what's your status?"
"Not as good as it could be. Those damned
Strengl
s have some nasty weapons! I estimate twenty hours to restore the inertial drives."
The leader nodded. "Good. Get the Vishnu techs over here and get them to work. We'll earn more than a few credits for
this
day's work!"
The Captain had finished his announcements, and turned with a frown. "Vishnu? Are they the ones supporting you?"
The leader grinned. "Nope. These are strictly mercenaries. Now, Captain, I want you to prepare your crew to disembark; you will be going aboard another vessel as prisoners of war. You will not be mistreated, and you will be exchanged or released at the end of the war."
The Captain nodded sadly. "One question, sir. What are 'privateers'?
The man's grin widened even further. "Let's just say we've got a pirate's license!" he replied.
Leaving several of the Vishnu techs and a small prize crew behind,
Cheetah
,
Ilocan's Revenge
and the
Strengl
headed inward toward the unsuspecting home planet.
"Damn, Cale, Look at all those fat merchantmen!" Zant exclaimed as they approached Santiago and their sensors began to register.
It was true. Dozens of merchant vessels, ranging from a big Beta-class freighter to Epsilon-class tramps orbited the planet, their captains unwilling to risk the reported minefields.
Cale grinned and connected to Mong. "You were a merchant skipper," he said. "How many of those ships can we crew?"
Cheetah
had left the mine filled to capacity, with Cale, Dee, Zant, and nine supernumeraries who would become prize crews, if they were lucky. Crewing the frigate at the jump point had reduced her supernumeraries to six. Four other techs and crew had come from
Ilocan's Revenge
.
Mong's answering grin was as predatory as Cale's. "We could perhaps grab that Beta-class monster," he replied, "but we'd have to strip the boat crews to man her, and I don't recommend it. We don't want to bother with the ships hanging around the orbital factories; they're empty and waiting for cargoes. No, I'd say we could afford to grab a Chata-class and one or two Din-classes. That will still leave us about five boat pilots, and with you and that
strengl,
we should be all right. We want the ships orbiting the farthest out; Santiago Control would have put the ships ready to depart as far out of the way as possible."
Cale nodded. "Seems like a plan. Now, we
don't
want to damage these ships; we won't have time to make repairs. I'm hoping we can talk the crews into abandoning ship. No muss, no fuss, and a fat prize."