Wandering Engineer 6: Pirates Bane (32 page)

“So, we've got about twenty one hours until we get to the prison
ships. Let's hear your plan,” he said.

Gustov looked at the four other people in the compartment. “Well,
I think we'll use the shuttles.”

“Mine as well?” the Admiral asked mildly.

“Yours sir?” Gustov asked, nonplussed.

“Fleet Launch in Phoenix's boat bay. It's offline, so no,” Irons
said. “It will take a half day to get her back online. I'm not sure what damage
her electronics sustained after the EMP hit. I'd want a thorough check first,”
he said.

“Oh, then we'll leave her out and use the assets we've got. If you
don't mind sir,” he said, looking at Irons.

Irons nodded politely. “This is your show,” he said.

Gustov introduced Craig Lewis, a security officer from Deianira.
He was a bluff guy, a bit thin of course, but he had a professional look about
him.

“We've met. Briefly,” the Admiral said, exchanging nods with
Lewis. He'd seen the man in the compartment. He was a quiet reserved guy,
black, with green eyes and tribal tattoos all over his bare arms and neck.

“Can we order them to surrender?” a rating asked.

Lewis scowled. “No.”

“Oh. Um, why not?” the rating asked, looking helplessly to the
others and then to Lewis. “If we offer them terms, maybe we can get out of this
without a shot being fired.”

“The problem is, we don't want to alert them,” Gustov replied
patiently, turning to the rating. “If they know we are coming they will kill
everyone on board.”

“Oh.”

Gustov turned to Irons. “We don't want them doing anything stupid.
My advice? Just dock. They don't have a choice anyway. They'll be expecting
their own people anyway, and maybe think their radios are out.”

“The Captain did order them to maintain radio silence,” Sprite
offered.

“There see? Something already in our favor.” He turned to Irons.
“We'll hit them with two shuttles at the same time sir. That way one can't get
warning off to the other.”

“Very well. Make it so,” Irons replied with a nod.

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

There were a total of forty-five surviving Horathian crew in the
brig or in sickbay. There had been fifty-nine, Irons vowed not to ask why
fourteen never survived their trip to the brig, or why the airlock cycled
fourteen times.

If they took the prison ships without any fatalities that number
could go up to sixty three. Gustov was grimly determined to get the job done,
but Irons wasn't certain how many of the Horathians would survive to get to the
brig. After listening to some of the stories it wouldn't bother him if the
worst of the lot got permanently lost out an airlock on their way.

Gustov had ten volunteers including himself and the two pilots.
Two were engineers. Sindri wasn't happy about the poaching in his department,
but did understand they would need someone with a tool kit, and he was about to
get a lot of help if they pulled it off.

The Admiral watched as the Skyhawk and pinnace went out. The hawk
was in good shape; she was Gustov's ship. The pinnace was slower though; she
was either having issues or her pilot was. Either way, they were running behind
schedule.

Anxiously the bridge crew watched as the hawk made the final
approach and docked with the Le More. Enric and the first bridge crew had
relieved their counterparts twice, the crew was settling down into the routine.
A good eight hours of sleep had helped sort a lot of people out. A few were
still jittery, but Sprite reported that the crew sounded more relaxed. The
current tension on the ship was over the prison ship loose end.

“Gustov here, the ship is secure,” Gustov reported a few minutes
after they docked. He sounded professional Irons noted.

The bridge erupted in cheers, interrupting the rest of his report.

“Repeat that?”Irons asked. He had heard it with his enhanced
hearing, but he wanted the others to hear it too. He wanted them to know the
price for freedom.

“Repeat, twelve dead on the ship excluding the nine Horathians.”

“So? No love lost there,” someone said softly.

“How?” the Admiral asked. Visions of a firefight erupted in his
mind. The bridge sobered as the death toll of friends registered.

“The Horathian's met us in the lock, expecting relief. Needless to
say, we came as somewhat of a surprised. None of them survived their attempt to
draw their weapons.”

Irons frowned but didn't rebuke him for the dead. He reminded
himself that Gustov had a choice of weapons and had apparently not taken many
nonlethal weapons with him, or hadn't had the time to use them. Also, he grimly
reminded himself that he wasn't there and it wasn't his show. Gustov was the
man on the scene and he had to accept that.

“Ten of the dead died before we got there. Prisoners all. Some
died from the lack of life support, or injuries, or starvation. They are all
recent, they stacked them in a lock but didn't flush them,” Gustov stated,
voice flat and cold. That made the Admiral grunt. “By the way, we've checked Admiral,
they didn't get a warning out,” Gustov finished his report.

“Very well. Team two is already on final now.”

The pinnace had been delayed in transit, but five minutes after
Gustov reported the pilot reported in. “We've successfully docked with the
second ship, the Deianira. Sorry we're late.”

“Better late than never,” Gustov said over the open channel. The
three ships were under a million kilometers apart, so there wasn't much of a
time lag.

“Here is Mister Lewis,” the pilot said a moment later.

“This is Lewis. We've taken the ship. Repeat, the ship is ours.”

There was a second smattering of cheers and applause on the
bridge.

“It went off without a hitch. We've got eight dead here, all
former prisoners. We took the Horathian's alive. They threw their hands up
right off,” he said.

“Good for you,” Gustov said dryly.

“Now what? I've got nine wounded here, and over a hundred and ten
starving, barely breathing people here in dire need of a shower,” Lewis said.
Despite that statement they could hear people cheering in the background. Many
sounded hoarse or weak, but they were still happy and letting everyone around
them know it.

“I've got some wounded now. I'm still getting a head count
myself,” Gustov reported. “And I've got... one hundred and... Did you say
seven? Okay, one hundred seven, repeat, one oh seven survivors, not including
us.”

“We've done it!” Enric said, throwing his good arm up in the air.
He winced when he tried to do the same with his right arm. “Damn!” he said,
sucking in a breath. He looked around as the others cheered. He smiled through
his pain. “Awesome,” he said and then returned his attention to his station.

Irons turned to Ian. “Mister McGuyver, dock with the Le More since
she is closest. Deianira, hang in there, we'll get to you.”

“We're not going anywhere,” Lewis said dryly. “But I'd appreciate
someone having Holly and some food on hand when we do dock.

“Understood,” the Admiral nodded.

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

It took an hour for Bounty to maneuver so the prison ship was
along her port side. “I feel like a beached whale or something,” the helmsman
grumbled. “How are we going to dock with the other ship with two already
attached?” he asked.

Ian rested a hand on the back of his chair. “One thing at a time,”
he said. He felt a thousand times better than three days before. Decent food,
eight hours of sleep in a real bed, and a shower helped, but not having someone
beat him or threaten him with death... he shook his head. That alone made him
eternally grateful to the Admiral. He looked at Le More. She was a tiny thing,
barely the size of the Bounty, despite being a medium freighter. Most of her
was hold, which the crew had half converted into living quarters for their
families over the centuries. He shook his head. His beautiful ship was still
there, Deianira still existed, but he wasn't certain he wanted to be her
Captain again. There were too many ghosts there, too many memories of Liz to
haunt him. He frowned thoughtfully.

“We're... three... two... one,” the helmsman said and then sighed.
“Docked. We're docked. There was a bit of excess inertia, but the dock held.
We're good.”

“Seals are holding,” the OPS officer said, giving the helmsman a
dirty look. “Clamps are secure. I'm sending someone to check.”

“They are secure,” Gustov said. “We've already opened the lock.
Sorry about the stench,” he said over the intercom. There was cheering in the
background.

Enric, the helmsman, and OPS officer started to get up and then
stopped. Sheepishly they looked at Irons and then Ian.

“Go,” the Admiral said, waving a hand. “We can handle things from
here for a while. Go see your families,” he said. The trio of men rushed out.
“Hopefully they are alive,” he murmured softly.

Gustov hadn't sent a list of names since they were going to dock
shortly. The ship was stuffed with the remnants of eight crews, so things were
jumbled up.

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

From all over the ship people on duty or off rushed to the lock to
see if their families were alive and to be reunited. Gustov urged them not to
trample each other in their excitement.

Holly Glenn stood in the sea of back slapping, laughing, crying
and generally exhilarated people. Some were mourning as they found out someone
hadn't survived. She patted them in sympathy. They squeezed her hand, thanking
her for her support, then Jake's people took them in hand. Steaming cups of
soup were being handed out, as were other food items. The starving people
gratefully accepted them.

Holly checked a few people over and ordered them to sickbay.
Rajesh took charge of them. She turned when she felt and heard a familiar step.
She took a deep breath and a familiar musk enveloped her. After that she
couldn't see, she just turned.

“Hi,” a rough voice said. “Missed me? God I've missed you babe!” Doctor
Marty Glenn, her husband and lover said, still alive, despite everything. His
ecstatic greeting was cut short by her flinch.

“Like that huh?” he asked softly, staring into her eyes.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. He reached for her. She flinched. He
stopped and tried not to stare.

“I'm so sorry honey. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to protect you,”
he said softly. Tears shined in his eyes. She suddenly reached up, wrapped an
arm around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “It's okay. We're alive.
Right now that's all that matters,” she whispered fiercely in his ear as she
hugged him. She shook as she felt his arms wrap around her. He hugged tightly
her until she gasped. They kissed deeply, then cuddled, crying together in
relief, pent up anxiety, and emotions too tangled to express so quickly. They
murmured soft reassurances to each other, and how they loved one another. They
were an island in the midst of everyone else, for the moment ignorant of the
others.

“My little boy, Antonio, have you seen him? He's about this tall,”
a voice said. “He was with his older sister Laria,” a woman said, voice picking
up in fear and anxiety.

Holly closed her eyes, tuning the woman out. The woman looked
around frantically for her children. Kinja found her looking. She stared at the
other woman for a long moment. Kinja shook her head simply. The woman sank to
her knees and cried when she found out that they were gone, the Horathian's had
taken them.

Irons stood off, out of the way. He turned. “Is that confirmed
Sprite? The children?”

“Yes,” the AI responded. “I have records of sixteen human, and
nineteen nonhuman or Neo children between the ages of one and sixteen on the
eight captured ships. None of the alien or Neo children survived. Two of the
human children didn't survive either. Three are unaccounted for and presumed
dead. The remainder were shipped out.”

“Out?”

“Apparently the Captain had orders to do so.”

“Why?”

“Unknown. I only have a verbal on that Admiral,” Sprite replied.
“It is unconfirmed.”

“Okay,” the Admiral mused as the mother wailed in renewed grief.
“She got her hopes up for nothing,” he murmured.

“Not necessarily. Where there is life, there is hope Admiral,”
Sprite replied.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Tell her that. I know what she is going
through. As a parent, one of your worst nightmares is to have your child go
missing and never know what happened to them,” he said softly.

“I understand Admiral,” Sprite replied quietly.

He shook himself. “Come on, we've got things to do,” he said.

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

Karmen brushed her way past the others and then looked around.
She'd kept her hair and good looks by seducing the guards. It had allowed her
to get extra food and better treatment for herself, but it had ostracized her
with the other prisoners.

Her former crew mates on Anderson knew she was a bit of a vamp,
she loved sex. She spotted an old friend, Waldo. He smiled shyly and waved. She
came closer, practically strutting. He blushed, looking left and right but he
was trapped. She grinned lazily at the thought. He had his trademark long
sleeve shirt on. Someone had fixed his glasses though, that was nice. Or he had
gotten a new pair. When she got close she grabbed him, planted a passionate
kiss on his lips and then hugged him, crying softly.