Wandering Engineer 6: Pirates Bane (56 page)

This time the rank and file broke discipline and roared in
approval. The Admiral nodded, waiting it out.

“They want a war? We'll damn well give them one. We're going to
teach them what war really costs, to
both
sides,” he growled. “They've
had it coming for some time now.”

There was a slight growl of approval over that. The Admiral nodded.
“That's right ladies and gentlemen, we're going to make them
pay
for all
the hurt they have dished out.” The hungry growl of approval in the compartment
intensified. “We're going to fight,
not
roll over and die, and certainly
not
run. We're going to fight for life, if not our own than those who
can't fight back. Or to buy time for those who need it,” he said.

“I know it doesn't look good. The odds are not in our favor. The
enemy has tonnage, quantity on its side. But we have quality,” he said,
spreading his hands to indicate those in the room and the ship. “Quality has a
modifier all on its own. We have experience and determination. We all know what
that means; we are here because of it. We beat the odds once, we broke out, we
took this ship, we took other ships. We did it before, we can do it again,” he
thundered. “We can and we will.”

There was a muted cheer. He nodded as they quieted down. “And
we've got allies. Members of the crew who will go a long ways to even the
balance. Our AI comrades will do their part and more to tear the enemy ships up
from the inside, shut them down and weaken them.”

This time the cheer was more pronounced. He smiled.

“Ah shucks,” Sprite said to the Admiral alone. Slowly the room
quieted. He could taste the hope, the burning desire to fight. He nodded.

“The Horathian way is
death
,” he said, practically hissing
the last word. “Death and slavery for billions. You know that, I know that. We
can't accept that. We won't. They want a war; we'll give it to them. All of it,
on
our
terms. But I don't think they know what they are in for. To them,
what they have done now is what they think of as a
fair
fight,” he said
smiling darkly.

“Well, we're done with that. No more running. They aren't the
only ones who can fight. Tomorrow, we jump to prove it to them. I'm proud to
have served with you all. Dismissed. Now let's go kick some pirate ass.”

The compartment broke into another round of cheering when he
finished.

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

“Last chance to get off Nata'roka,” Sprite said, coming to the
Ssilli's attention. She had tried for the past few minutes before the alien had
relented and opened her side of the channel.

“I'm working here,” the alien replied. “Can't you see I'm busy?”
she asked, sounding rather testy.

Sprite checked. The alien was indeed busy; busy enough running
navigational sims that she had made a ten percent impact on the ship's
processors. She was scanning the Beta 101a1 system. She was running a vector
overlay on top of several different versions of the system stacked. From the
look of it she had some sort of time dilation calculation going on as well. That
intrigued the AI. “Seriously,” the AI said. She waved a hand to indicate the
sim. “You don't have to do this,” she said.

“Your chances are greatly improved if I do right?” the alien
demanded. Sprite nodded. “And the Admiral's central plan is dependent on my
participation correct?” She asked. Sprite nodded in reply. "Very well, I
am in,” the alien said and then blew a breath. Water and exhaled air sprayed
out of her blowhole in a fine mist. She felt better, much better. Just adding
salt to her tank had made her feel... more alive. She wanted to pay these
people back for giving her hope again.

“We can't risk you,” Sprite said.

“Life is about risk,” the alien replied softly. “What is life if
you haven't done what you believed in? When you let scum like that have their
way?” the alien asked. “No, I am in. Commander.”

“Very well.”

“And Commander, it's
Commander
Nata'roka. I may have been
conscripted, but I am an officer. I forgot it. I'm not going to forget again.
Ever
.”

“Glad to have you on board Commander,” Sprite said, nodding her
chin.

“You knew?” the alien asked. “Wait, of course you knew. My
implants. Why didn't you say something?” she asked.

“Because, you were bitter and angry,” Sprite replied simply. She
shrugged. “You've been through enough and I judged you wanted to resign your
commission in favor of your species survival,” the AI replied. “If I may ask,
why didn't you suicide?” she asked. “You could have, through your implants
Commander.”

“I know,” the alien said softly. She bobbed there for a long
moment. Sprite waited patiently. Finally, the alien blew a breath and then
responded. “Hope,” the alien replied. “And my prayers were answered. We'll see
what the future brings together,” she said. Sprite nodded and disappeared.

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

He and the engineering department had whipped up twelve
independent platforms along with his other packages. Four of the platforms were
independent decoys; they would serve as defensive or distraction elements. Four
others were recon drones. He'd been divided on making them. Finally he'd given
in, each were the size of a torpedo but stuffed with sensors. They might come
in handy... or they might be a waste of resources all in themselves.

Two others were defensive platforms. Each platform had fire
control communications links, along with sensors, and point defense weapons.
They would act as an ancient periscope on a submarine, allowing the ship to see
around physical obstacles or around her own weapons fire. Their automated point
defense allowed them to be interposed into a stream of fire while their fire
control links allowed the ship's tactical department to hand off defensive
counter missiles or even capital missiles if needed.

Each of the defensive platforms were precious, he'd have to
husband their exposure wisely. Once the enemy knew what they were they would
target them. Since each had batteries but relied on beamed power from the
mother ship, they lacked energy shields or propulsion. They would be doomed
under a determined enough assault.

He had a similar issue with the last two platforms. They had just
enough material for two more platforms, but the ship lacked the space and
flexibility for additional defensive platforms. Instead he'd gone one better.
He'd replicated force beam emitter weapons.

Force emitters have to either be in specially built turrets or in
spinal mounts like the Arboth had, with special nodes around them, or they have
to be outside a ship's shields, and therefore off their hull. Which meant
tractored and provided power by a microwave beam or on board micro fusion
reactor.

Force beam emitters were the normal method of taking a shield down
without battering it with physical force until it's nodes overloaded. The beams
oscillated in frequency in microseconds, pushing and pulling and interfering
with any energy field a ship's nodes put up in defense. The attack usually sent
the shields into shut down or overloaded them. It was one method a ship could
take down an enemy ship in a soft kill or capture. It was also why a warship
didn't exclusively rely on energy fields, they had armor as well. Redundancy
was its own survival method.

But, force beams had that fatal flaw, they not only interfered
with a shield, they didn't play favorites and interfered with
any
force
emitter in their line of fire or even adjacent to it. Which meant a ship's
own
force field, which was why they were normally standoff platforms.

A few warships had force beam emitters built into other energy weapons
mounts, but in order to fire them they had to take down their own energy
shields, or they had to synch them up to open windows to fire through. But that
caused all sorts of engineering and tactical issues. It was much easier to
mount a graser or other weapon over a force beam.

The other issue with a force beam was range. A standard beam had a
one hundred kilometer effective range envelope. The further the range the less
effective the beam was and the more energy required to cause damage or
interference. That was also why they were effective as standoff weapons
platforms, they could be maneuvered closer to a target.

Force beam weapons had been relegated to torpedo warheads or
specialty one shot weapons for centuries before someone got it into their head
to build them as standoff weapons platforms. Which worked well enough for them
to go into more regular use. They were efficient at capturing ships, like
captured pirate prizes on the run, than say, shooting up a ship full of
helpless victims and hostages.

Unfortunately due to the ticklish nature of the beams, and the
specialty equipment needed to build and maintain them, not to mention all the
other projects on their hands, the Admiral and the scratch engineering staff
had only managed to build two of the force beam platforms, and all were
generation one, reliant on beamed power and propulsion from the mother ship. It
was the best they could do with the resources and time on hand. It would have
to suffice, the Admiral thought as he scrolled down to the next project on the
list. He paused, mulling the emitters over one moment longer. His crew was
shaking down, but they were skeletal. Something told him he wasn't going to be
taking many ships intact, and even if they did he didn't have the crew to man
them. No, he'd work with what they had on hand.

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

In transit the crews trained heavily. The Ssilli guided them,
shaving weeks off their transit time. Their original transit time was cut from
one hundred days to eighty for the nine parsecs. It would have been shorter had
all the ships had the same speed and trained crews.

For once the Admiral didn't want the lost time, it meant less time
to train. But for some of the crew it was a godsend, it meant the waiting would
be shorter.

“Admiral, even with our greater understanding, and our access to
the Horathian codes, there is no guarantee a cyber attack will be effective,”
Sprite warned the Admiral in his cabin the evening before their arrival.

“Do what you can. We all will Commander,” the Admiral replied. He
turned away. “We will do what we must,” he said softly. “What needs to be
done.”

Making a difference

Nearly six months after Phoenix had arrived in B 100 omega Phoenix
jumped out of hyperspace in B101a1 at the B100 omega jump point and headed on a
least time course for the Pyrax jump point across the system. After four days
of crossing the two light day distance across the system to the Pyrax jump
point the ship seemed to have noticed the enemy fleet. She abruptly changed
course for the Beta 103c5 jump point south east. The fleet's outer shell broke
formation and gave chase.

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

Admiral Rico pondered the fleeing ship. It had come onto their
sensors when she had emerged from jump several days before, but from an unlikely
direction. He had thought Hathaway had his flank, now he had to wonder what had
happened and why this fish had slipped through Bounty's carefully crafted net.

He had to be careful this fish wouldn't slip his net either. It
was a fast ship, and by its course near the outermost Mercury class planet, it
could try to loop the planet and alter its course to return to the Pyrax jump
point. He reminded himself to be ready for that possibility.

The Admiral was a dashing man, or so he and his wife thought. He
had a strong jaw, stern looks, and a full head of brown hair. It was cut
regulation short. He had piercing brown eyes, and a goatee. He stroked it,
thinking of his next move.

He was an average man in other regards, medium build and frame. He
had an even temperament and a love of classical literature. He knew the
importance of dressing to impress, but away from the home system and news
cameras he had relaxed that practice somewhat.

He smiled ever so slightly, remembering how his wife had preened
and fused over him with his steward before he went before the cameras. The
emperor had wanted a full press kick off, which was what he had gotten. It had
sent his people off with a nice bump in morale at all the cheers. He imagined
what it would be like when he returned, the parades, the interviews, the
medals. He smiled in anticipation.

He was a shoe in for Admiral of the Fleet when he returned once he
conquered Pyrax. Cartwright didn't stand a chance, all the little piddling star
systems he knocked over didn't amount to anything when it came to true combat
honors. And think of the shipyard! If he captured it intact it would be quite
the feather in his cap. He intended to do so. He could just imagine the
holodrama that would be made over his life. He reminded himself to update his
memoirs and delete a few things that might not be too flattering.

“Sir, it's a stern chase,” the Captain reminded him. A stern chase
was a near impossible chase to win when the rabbit was faster than the hounds.
Once the ship was at the jump point she was as good as gone.

“I don't care,” the Admiral said. “Get. That. Ship.” He said
coldly, stabbing his manicured index finger into the armrest to further make
his point. “We can't afford to let her get away. She'll bring word to other
systems that we're in the area.”

“Yes sir,” the flag Captain replied. He carefully didn't bring up
the fact that the Admiral had chosen to concentrate his forces instead of
leaving a ship on guard duty at each jump point. The Admiral scowled briefly.
“Hathaway slipped up didn't he?” the Captain asked with a slight sneer in his
voice. There was no love lost between the two captains.

“Don't worry about that now. I'll deal with him. He may have been
out of position or dealing with something else.”

“Sir, that ship is small, she can't have a lot of fuel on board.”

“True. But we don't know how far she has come. From her speed,
she's got good engines.”

“Yes sir,” the Captain replied. He waited for the Admiral to say
something more but the man turned away. He was tempted to cut the connection
but stamped on it. Rico was a pain in the ass, and he took slights easily, even
if they were unintentional. Rico was old school; he had served briefly in the
raiders but then transferred to home fleet when he made Commander. He'd bounced
around to various commands and one staff position before he'd attained flag
rank.

Unlike Rear Admiral Cartwright though, Rico had over a decade of
experience as an Admiral. He'd distinguished himself in the fleet training
exercises three times, earning praise. He had also been personally chosen by
the new emperor for this command.

“Sir, do you think using the entire screen is excessive?” the
Captain asked.

“Screen and supports. Hell, we'll all go. Get that damn ship. We
can refuel when we return. The chase will do us good.”

“Something to do sir?” the Captain asked neutrally. Setting the
hounds loose was one thing, but for such a small rabbit it hardly seemed worth
it. Besides, wherever it eventually ended up it would do the world no good. No
one had the firepower to stand up to them.

Admiral Rico frowned, hands behind his back. His fists clenched.
He didn't want the depravity of the raiders, but he understood it. Mob
mentality his psychology class said. The intelligence of a group of people was
inversely proportional to the number of people in it. The lower that rating
dropped the more their baser impulses asserted themselves.

He had spent a few years in the raiders, but he'd quickly
transferred to Home Fleet when he had the chance. He had wanted to exercise
fleet command for as long as he could remember. This was the first time they
were attempting it in the field, and it was a mixed blessing that he had
command. Getting the raiders, who were used to working singly or in pairs to
work under his command, was a bit rough. He'd had to step on quite a few toes
to get the job done. Obviously he still had a ways to go, he thought, watching
his carefully structured formations come apart.

They all wanted the capture, he realized that. He frowned and made
a note to address it at the next Captain's meeting.

“Sir, the formation...”

“I see that. Inform Captain Bluefield he has nominal command. Get
the screen back in order should be his first order of business.”

“Aye sir. Should we send a ship ahead to the jump point?” the flag
Captain asked, uncertain of a response.

Admiral Rico's face chilled. He did the math; he knew they'd never
get there in time. “No,” he finally said.

“Aye sir.”

“Get someone in range and hit them with a force beam if they have
to. Or fire a spread of missiles past them. That should turn them.”

“Possibly sir. An intentional miss though?”

“Call it a warning shot.”

“Aye aye sir. Is there anything else?” the Captain asked, looking
over to the communication's rating who was dutifully taking notes. She looked
up expectantly.

Admiral Rico frowned and then nodded. “Tell them not to harm the
crew. I want them alive. If they kept that ship in such good order, we can use
them.”

“Aye sir, I'll pass the order along,” the Captain replied with a
nod.

“Carry on Captain,” Rico said turning away and cutting the
channel.

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

Irons studied the map of the star system. The Federation's
department of Interstellar Cartography had gotten it right with this system, it
was a wasteland. Little had changed since the last survey nine hundred years
ago too.

The primary reason he'd chosen Beta 100 omega over 101 was simple,
the lack of Jovians. The system was a rocky one, with rocky Mercury class
planets and a dispersed belt in the outer system. Attempting to get water in the
system would have been near impossible.

Bounty and her fellow ships tacked across the system, zig zagging
in and out above and below the plain of the ecliptic, keeping track of Phoenix
each time they passed. They were using up precious fuel, but it was all for a
good cause.

“How are we seeing this?” Enric asked, awed. He checked his
implants and then stared into the feed.

“Radial velocity changes in objects of mass and how they affect
other objects. The big one is phase mass polarization,” Commander Nata'roka
replied. “That and gravitational microlensing.”

“Is that what you were modeling before we jumped? And after?”
Sprite asked.

“Yes. I had to adjust for seven centuries of stellar parallax,
interstellar drift while comparing it to what the Horathians call a proper star
chart,” the alien replied, sounding disgusted.

“Oh.”

“And you can see the ships...”

“Once you know what to look for by eliminating what you know
should be there, that's the phase mass polarization by the way, the answer is
obvious. But it is also tentative,” the alien replied. As the plot changed. The
known objects were blacked out leaving the others behind. “By plotting the mass
shadows of each object in hyperspace we can get a general bearing, mass, and
course of the object,” the alien said. “From that we can match that to what we
have on file for ship's mass and refine the image,” she said, plucking out
objects that were not on the right course or of the right mass to be a known
ship. What remained wasn't perfect, but it was well suited for their purposes.

Lieutenant Nobeki snapped her fingers and then turned to the Admiral
in wonder. “That's why you wanted the hyper sensors overhauled! Now I
understand,” she said.

Irons nodded. He studied the plot. It wasn't perfect, the alien
and CIC had only tentative ID's on each of the ship karats, but it was enough
to get a general idea of the situation. He understood why the Ssilli had
insisted on tacking back and forth above and below the ecliptic, it allowed
them a look down or look up view. When they were on the ecliptic the mass
shadows washed together.

“I only had tentative ID's based on their mass shadow however,”
the alien said. “And the closer they are the harder it is to make them out,
their mass shadows tend to clump. This tin can doesn't have the sensor
resolution needed to get a better view.”

“It's good enough,” the Admiral murmured. “You are doing excellent
Commander, my compliments,” he said.

“Mine too,” Lieutenant Nobeki said. The bridge crew murmured their
thanks.

“We're not done yet people. Save the accolades for later,” the
Ssilli replied with a raspberry from her blowhole. “
If
there is a later.
This next part is tricky. I need to concentrate here,” she said, maneuvering
them around a cluster of hyper ghosts.

They were in the lowest band of Alpha, it was the only band they
could make out any detail, but it was still tricky to move back and forth
around the system. Only a water dweller could pull it off, the Admiral
realized. He was hopelessly outclassed, he thought wryly.

Irons looked around, noting the look of false bravery, excitement,
but under that, fear. These people knew what was at stake. They had truly
suffered, they knew what would happen to them should they be captured again.
But there was something else there too, a defiance. Not directed at him
obviously. Defiance and a cold determination to get the job done in a few.
Others still looked worried. That was understandable.

 Despite the months of rehabilitation, training, and conditioning,
this moment and the hell that was to come would break anyone. Some would indeed
break, no matter what preparation they had. They shouldn't have to be here,
about to fight for their lives and the lives of others, yet here they were.

He felt a swelter of pride, pride mingled with sorrow for the sacrifice
he was about to ask of them. He hit a link on his chair and opened the PA. A
clear tone came from the repaired speakers. Bridge ratings looked up and then
turned to him. He nodded. "This is Fleet Admiral Irons. In a few moments
we're going into battle. I wanted all of you to know it is okay to be
afraid."

He cleared his throat. "I know fear, I know it's there,
lurking, making you think you will fail somehow. I want you to know, others,
your brothers and sisters serving with you now know it too. They won't let you
down, so don't let them down. You have succeeded beyond anything I have ever
thought possible. Know this, I am proud of you, proud to serve with you. In a
few moments, we're going to get some payback for all the terror the Horathian's
have dealt to us and to those we care about. We're going to make the galaxy a
safer place."

He saw Lieutenant Nobeki smile slightly and nod. Out of the corner
of his eye Enric nodded as well. "In a few moments we're going to make the
Horathians know what true fear feels like. Just before we blow them all to
hell. Battle stations everyone." He cut the PA. The bridge crew clapped
briefly, then nodded and one by one returned to their duties.

He nodded, exchanging looks with Sprite and Bounty. Morale going
into something like this counted as a lot, but it was still insanely suicidal.
They should run, that's what the book said. Odds were, they might have been
able to slip past the Northern fleet somehow. He looked at the plot and the
blinking icon of Phoenix. But, they were about to defy the odds and do it
anyway. They were committed. They had a roll to play and comrades to not let
down.

He settled himself, feeling a serene peaceful touch on his
shoulders. Sprite he knew, letting him know she understood. He nodded to her
avatar. "Let's do this."