Wandering Engineer 6: Pirates Bane (18 page)

The exec threatened him with a knife and Admiral Irons warily
stepped back until the goons on either side of him grabbed him. His passive
sensors reported half the guards were in the room, and the camera above wasn’t
active. Smiling slightly, the exec advanced on him, thinking his frozen body
denoted fear.

“Let's see if we can loosen that tongue of yours. Or if you
prefer, I could cut it out,” the exec said, grinning nastily.

Grimly Admiral Irons watched the exec enter his attack range
while he planned his own attack. He would spin up his shields first, rebuffing
the two thugs and the exec, then snap the cuffs... he paused as he felt energy
overhead.

The squawk of the overhead speaker interrupted the exec, and he
like some of the guards looked up. Suddenly Irons noted the camera was live. He
frowned so much for that. He couldn't afford an audience to the initial steps
of the break out.

The exec turned to see the red light on the camera, and then
shook his head. He cursed softly under his breath before stepping to the
communication panel and opening a channel. “Yes?”

“Blye, what's the holdup Lieutenant?” a crisp voice replied.

“Oh, um, sorry Captain,” the exec said, glancing at the new
prisoner as he instinctively came to attention. “I beg to report that the
former Captain of the Phoenix is being reluctant,” he said.

“I see that.”

“Captain, permission to use sterner measures,” the exec asked.

“Denied. Why isn't he on the way here to me?” the Captain asked
mildly.

“He is. We're just, um, finishing up here Captain. Securing him,”
the exec said, waffling the reply.

John felt another camera activate and silently cursed. With an
open channel and two views of the compartment his odds of a quick take over
dropped.

“He seems secure enough for me,” the Captain sarcastically said,
calling the exec out on his white lie. “Bring him. Now,” the Captain growled,
cutting the channel.

“You heard the Captain,” the exec said, tugging on the hem of his
jacket. He waved them out. “Bring the prisoner to the bridge.”

<----*----*----*---->

On the bridge Captain Hathaway silently assessed the new man, warily
watching him on the cameras while reviewing the little information they had
gathered from his ship. This 'Captain Doe' was an enigma; he had discipline,
and was not afraid of his situation. That alone bothered him, the almost
complete lack of fear. His lock down of the computers told them he was a good
cyberne
ticist, and that he
was prepared for contingencies.
 

They would have to watch him carefully and keep him away from the
computers. His self-discipline said he wasn't stupid in some ways. But he lacked
fear. That was a problem, a man who lacked fear tended to do dangerous and
damaging things. In the end utterly futile, but it could still be a risk if the
Captain didn't plan for it.

<----*----*----*---->

Arriving on the bridge with his escort, Admiral Irons quietly
scanned the rooms with passives as the exec came to attention before the
Captain's chair, saluted, and then reported. The Captain made him wait, and Admiral
Irons mentally smirked at the old tactic. Cooling his heels to show him who was
boss was something he'd gotten used to over the decades as a spacer. He took
the time to assess his opponents and the bridge.

The bridge layout was typical, with the command position on a
dais in the center of the compartment. Directly in front was the OPS and helm
station. Off to the left was the navigator's station, on the right was
tactical. What interested him was the state of the equipment and the new faces
for Sprite to log.

He heard a noise from the engineering station and noticed an
officer torturing what looked like an avatar of a virtual person.

He couldn't help frowning at the blurry image of a human in
chains. That didn’t make sense, unless it was some sort of sick gratification.
The Captain was chewing out the exec, so Admiral Irons logged their
conversation and probed the engineering station with his expert eyes.

The human asking the questions was Lieutenant Serall. Sprite
identified the small man as the acting Chief engineer of the ship.

The avatar he was interacting with was an AI, obviously. No one
could torture someone through a holo, though some had wanted to. Well, one
could with robots on the other end but... he set the distracting thought aside
and focused. He didn't think the man was torturing a sim, on the bridge was
stupid and sick. Hell, the entire thing was sick.

The avatar was of a human male. That much he could discern. But
he was chained, which didn't make sense. Also dressed in rags, and cowering in
a heap. The Admiral frowned. He couldn't get any more out of him while the AI
remained mute.

It had taken him a few minutes to understand that the virtual
person was the ship’s AI, cut off from the ship’s computers and placed into a
separate computer. The AI was half mad with simulated pain, being shocked with
amp spikes to its neural network, or tormented with cut outs of subroutines.
For some reason he hadn't simply destroyed himself.

Sprite brought up a wordless protest, but Admiral Irons silently
signaled quiet. Sprite returned to her duty. She silently pulled up a top view
of the room, and ID-ed the people in the room and their weapons.

The AI did a quick tech assessment, as did the Admiral. Expert
eyes roved the bridge carefully picking out this detail or that.  Irons knew
that the AI’s were recording everything for future review. He was surprised by
the mix of crude cathode ray tubes and other pieces of antiquated equipment
mixed in with modern hardware. Granted, most of the modern hardware was
civilian grade, like the holographic plotting table and the helm controls. They
looked like they were from a shuttle.

The wiring didn't make sense, though it was thoughtfully arranged
in wiring harnesses and in some cases was tucked under carpets or in ducting to
keep people from tripping on it. Some however loo
ked like new additions.

Wiring and hoses hung here and there from the ceiling as well,
most had string or some other binder keeping them together and generally away
from the main walk ways. It was a rat nest, but one he was actually used to
seeing now. Expert eyes traced some of the legible lines. There were a lot of
splices though, something he frowned at. Some were caped, most were just bare
twisted wire together. A few of the optical connections were melted together.

In other words, they were crude, a typical sign of the times. Rash
repairs made either in the heat of the moment or by hands inexperienced or
untrained. He spotted one so called repair and winced internally. He didn't
know who was stupid enough to try to splice a fiber optic line to a low voltage
line. He shook his head mournfully at that sight and looked away.

Sprite brought the computer-controlled auto-guns hanging from the
bulkheads to his attention and he cursed silently. Similar to the ones in the
brig anteroom, these guns would be almost impossible for him to work around
successfully. One was acting sporadically, making jerks as it swept the room.
He fed an order to Sprite to send a microwave spike at what looked like the
servo controller chip. Within minutes the chip would overheat and cause a nice
distraction. That would either work in his favor or cut off any dialog the
Captain wanted to have with him, buying him time.

Meanwhile he had Proteus sending out packets of nanites to take
over the systems on the bridge. They would emulate what he wanted the enemy to
see until he was ready to take over. He noted that some of the crew, namely the
navigator, exec, helmsman, and tactical officer were jacked in. He looked at
the Captain. He was sitting down but the Admiral estimated he was of average
height and build, around one hundred sixty centimeters, but that was an
estimate. He was clean-shaven, with black hair. Suave, the Admiral judged, and
professional, he grudgingly thought. He wasn't quite chewing the exec out more
like a mild rebuke.

The Captain like his other bridge crew had implants they
glittered, copper and gold on his skin. They were older, from the look of the
helmsman's he had a newer, more professional set up. That bode ill for the
future, Irons thought. The crude Horathian cybernetics forced him modify that
plan. The bridge crew had wires plugging them into their equipment. “Caution is
the order of the day,” he instructed the AI, eyes focusing on the implants.

“Gotcha,” Sprite replied. “What are we waiting for again?” She
asked. “We can take them!”

Technically that was true, he could take over now, just unleash a
swarm of nanites and kill everyone on the bridge, but he wanted to know more
before he acted. The chance to get intelligence was important, he wasn't
certain he would get the same value intelligence later. Besides, the more he
knew, the greater his chances of pulling the mutiny off without doing
significant damage to the ship or inflicting death to the other prisoners were
likely. He silently counseled the AI on patience and gathering intelligence first
before they acted.

The Captain looked up from his discussion and turned his attention
to the prisoner. Mild brown eyes studied him with interest. Admiral Irons noted
the Chief engineer muting the AI, and most of the compartment’s attention
turning to him.

“Admiral, he's got more than a basic augment package,” Sprite
reported, highlighting the Captain. He felt his passives report back that the
Captain was augmented beyond the basic information package. That was
interesting and informative so his artificial eye took a closer look. The
augmentation was level one or two, and crude. A thick cable connected the
Captain to a panel in his chair.

“Pay attention
John
,” Sprite gently reminded him.

“Welcome.” The Captain said mildly. Irons felt a bit of irony over
that simple word. “I am Commander Brian Hathaway of the Horathian navy and
Captain of the Bounty,” the Captain introduced himself.

“The Bounty?” Sprite sputtered in amusement for John's ears only.
“How appropriate!” she crowed, clearly amused. Her delight in the situation was
inappropriate.

John nodded curtly but remained silent.

Mild brown eyes turned slightly hard John noted.

Hathaway studied the prisoner. He didn't shift uncomfortably; he
didn't blink much, no gulp, no sign of fear. He let the silence stretch until
he realized it wasn't working.

“I have taken your ship in the name of the Horathian Empire. We
will put it to use. You have been drafted as an enlisted in the Horathian Navy.
Be proud,” he said.

Again, John remained silent, neither denying the statement nor
agreeing to it.

“Be proud. It is an honor,” the exec growled. The Captain glanced
at the blond exec and waved him to silence with a flick of his hand and small
shake of his head. The exec nodded slightly.

“As an enlisted, you are subject to the orders of any Horathian.
You will obey,” the Captain said.

John heard a cough in the room. The exec turned, looking around to
find the person who had seemingly made a mocking sound. No one was stupid
enough to raise a hand and invite themselves for discipline.

“I believe Mister Blye has ordered you to unlock the computers of
the Phoenix, you will comply,” the Captain said.

 This time John merely smiled slightly. Sprite put a counter up on
his HUD.

The Captain noted the smile and his face congealed in cold fury.
The exec scowled, echoing the Captain. They had put up with intransigent
behavior and belligerence before, but this one was odd. They were off balance
mentally.

Silently Sprite redirected the microwave beam to the security
console and played it over the circuits, then back to each of the guns in
range.

The first gun was beginning to shake and gyrate, and the exec took
notice. Turning his scowl to the noise, his eyes widened comically then he
screeched a warning. The Captain and bridge crew looked up at the gun in
surprise and annoyance. They saw the gun moving back and forth and then gyrate
and shake. Several officers began to duck when the first gun started spitting
sparks.

 “Don't just stand there with your thumbs up your Asses! Do
something! Shut the system down!” the Captain roared in fury. A security guard
hastened to obey, rushing to the panel to shut the guns down.

Carefully Admiral Irons started to step back, but was stopped by a
guard behind him. The guard smiled nastily, tapping his black baton in his hand
meaningfully.

The Admiral turned his torso to view him. With his cuffed hands Admiral
Irons cupped them together and then spread them out, pantomiming an explosion.
When the man didn't get it he did it again and then wiggled his fingers and
mouthed boom. Finally he pointed to the weapons. The guard’s brow knit.

The guard’s eyes widened comically as he made the connection and
he looked up. He started to shout a warning just as the panel began to spark
and sizzle. That drew the attention of the people around the console like moths
to a flame.

In a sudden shower of sparks the panel overloaded, electrocuting
the guard before its crude CRT exploded, sending splinters of glass and plastic
into the face of the tech. The guns immediately stopped gyrating and dropped
down.