Rita Longknife - Enemy Unknown: Book I of the Iteeche War (Jump Point Universe 5)

by Mike Shepherd

  And the general filled Matt in on what had been happening since the scout cruiser had brought the general back from Savannah and gone out to do a bit of what it did: looking around for interesting stuff and reporting it back to human space.

  By the time Ray finished his briefing, Matt was scowling. “So, it’s very likely that we have pirates out there in the darkness,” he said.

  “Very likely.”

  “But was this a pirate attack,” Sandy O’Mally said. “We found reaction mass that looked like it had been lifted from some salt-water ocean. Who in human space is using anything like that for reaction mass?”

  That drew a blank.

  “Pirates will do what they will,” Andy Anderson said. “I suspect a lot of them are new to space. They do what seems smart to them.”

  “But how do you lift seawater to orbit?”

  “Could there be salt in some ice giants?” Sandy asked. “Maybe a salty ice-ring around a planet?”

  “I’d love to take some margarita mix to that,” Du, Mary’s second in command said.

  “It’s very unlikely that sodium would survive alone in such a concentration in space,” Kat, a diminutive member of Matt’s brain trust said, speaking softly and slow. No longer in Middie gray, she now sported the stripe of an ensign in the Exploration Corps. “Possibly someone is using an orbital sling to siphon water up from an ocean with each pass. Still, it’s hardly efficient.”

  “I suggest we ask them when we catch them,” Matt said, cutting off what might be a long series of extrapolations that lead nowhere. “You say Admiral Whitebred now has four cruisers as heavily armed as my ship?”

  “Yes, regrettably. Navy surplus and all that,” Ray said.

  “I trust my crew in a fight, but only a fool goes into a fair fight,” Matt said. “What can we do to get the edge back?”

  “I’ve asked the Navy for the loan of some heavy cruisers. Their 8-inch lasers pack more clout than your 6-inchers and at a greater range. My wife wants to command the first one. I’d like you to command the second.”

  “Leave the old Maggie D. in someone else’s hands?” Matt scowled at the thought.

  “With our budget what it is,” Ray pointed out, “we’ll be swapping her to the mothball fleet for the heavy cruiser you get. She’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

  Matt considered that. “Well, if I have to fight, I’d much prefer something with longer range this time.”

  “And if we’re lucky,” Ray said, sounding like he was not at all counting on it, “and Whitebred learned nothing about ice and armor while he was aboard your ship, you may be punching holes in his ships at long range and him will have nothing left to shoot at you when you get in range of his 6-inchers.”

  “I could get to like that idea,” Matt said. “Still, a heavy is bound to need a bigger crew than a light cruiser, and we’re already working at half of what we had in the war.”

  “Yes, that’s the rub. The Navy has little they can offer us what with their budget cut to the bone, but Rita is rather adamant that she wants to offer billets on her ships to the transport officers, mostly women, who are being put on the beach by the Navy.”

  “Old boys club, and all that rot,” Matt said.

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, I don’t have any problems with women aboard, do I gals?” Matt said with a grin. Sandy, Kat and Mary grinned right back.

  “So, any people Rita can get, you’re fine with. That still likely won’t be enough.”

  “What about taking aboard hydroponic farmers?” Sandy suggested. “I heard that Izzy and the Patton had a whole lot of reservists doing that farming thing under that Marine’s wife. What’s her name?”

  “Ruth,” Ray provided.

  “We were talking about setting up some hydroponic farms,” Matt said. “We’ll need them if we’re going to do some really deep scouting sweeps.”

  Ray made a face. “I don’t like the idea of going too far out. No telling what we might stick our nose into. But if we’re going to use the farmers as much for gunners as we are to eat the produce from their gardens, I might go along with that.”

  “How soon can we get this heavy cruiser in our hands?” Matt asked.

  “I talked with the CNO yesterday morning. I’ll see him first thing in the morning.”

  “Ah, boss, I don’t mean to be picky,” Matt said, grinning wide, “but this is the first thing in the morning.”

  They shared a laugh, and then went on their ways to their own beds. No doubt, tomorrow would be a very busy day. Matt fell asleep gazing at the picture of a small boy, one of those who had helped keep Ray alive on Santa Maria and discover the star map.

  “I owe you, David. I will find out who took you and get you back.”

  Chapter 14

  “Grandda, why’d they take our clothes?” David asked.

  “I don’t know,” Father Joseph answered, holding his grandson close and trying to rub some warmth into the lad.

  Whoever it was that had them, they seemed to be a bit more cold-blooded than humans. They seemed to want things cooler and with more humidity in the air.

  And they didn’t seem to know any better what to make of the humans than the humans knew what to make of them.

  “Maybe they think we’re animals?” David offered.

  “Maybe,” his grandda admitted. Then, so many of the people had been acting like animals. Half had been hauled aboard the alien ship dead drunk, and what they did together was a shame. Just shameful for the children to have to watch.

  The boy had to know about those things, being raised on a farm. But it was one thing to watch animals, another thing to watch a whole lot of drunk, desperate humans carrying on like there was no tomorrow.

  Those that weren’t an embarrassment to the human race were gathered around Father Joseph and praying for their lives.

  Those willing to pray for help were getting fewer and fewer each day as many sank into deep depression. Among the rioters, now that they had sobered up, the shock had also set in. They looked more and more like a collection of catatonics with each passing day.

  If the padre had to think of an animal these humans were acting like now, a bump on a log seemed the best match.

  But then, a log isn’t an animal now, is it?

  The hatch to the great room where all the humans were confined opened noisily. Five of the aliens came in. Several held the long, rifle-like things at the ready, and those humans able to take notice of anything around them began backing away.

  The aliens were alien. Joseph blinked his eyes several times, but he still came up with too many arms and legs, and of elbows and knees, there were just way too many. The aliens here were apparently simple sailors, dressed in shorts and singlet. Those simple clothes showed off clearly their four legs and four arms. Their heads could swivel to cover most all that went on around them with four eyes to take it all in. There was a hawkish flare to their faces where they breathed and spoke. Joseph suspected they ate through that opening as well.

  At the moment, two of the aliens were sighting down their weapons with one of their eyes while the other three eyes roved the room. Only one of them sported anything like a rank. The front of his shirt showed an insignia of crossed clubs looking for all the world like a pair of shillelaghs.

  He held a black rod of wood or metal out. It pointed at Father Joseph.

  “Me,” the old priest said, pointing at himself.

  The man with the stick shook his head from side to side.

  From previous summonses, Joseph knew a head shake here meant the same as a nod.

  “Can I come this time?” David asked. Almost pleaded.

  “When these hard men say what they want, they want it and no more,” Joseph said. That bit of wisdom had stood him in good stead when dealing with the Protestant leaders of the lowlands of Santa Maria. It had done him a good service here as well.

  “Mrs. Finch, will you look after the boy while I’m gone?”

&nbs
p; The widow Mrs. Finch was a middle-aged engineer by trade and a star-walking human who had come to Santa Maria on the first ship intent on establishing a company. She’d been going back on the Prosperous Goose to see to some things before settling permanently on that lone island of humanity so far from the rest.

  And while she might not be the most fervent in her prayers, she had one of the most level heads of all the survivors. David went to her and she held him close to her large breasts.

  The aliens walked Joseph down the same ship passageways they’d taken him through before to what he thought of as the interrogation room.

  Inside, stood two towering aliens in a blood red uniforms that gave Joseph the willies. One of them had been ordered to hit him once and he’d bounced off the walls and woken up among the humans what seemed like quite a bit later. He’d seen double for a day.

  But it was the ones that had shouted the order to the red that Joseph feared the most. Seated at a table were four officers. At least they wore more elaborate clothes. Two were gray and gold. The other two wore green and white. Just exactly who was in charge was still unclear to Joseph, even after four meetings with them.

  It had been one of the gray and golds that shouted the order to the red to knock him around. The next session, the green and whites had pretty much called the shots.

  Joseph stood, naked, cold, and shivering, and waited to see who would run this meeting.

  The one dressed in more white than green stood up and held up one of his thumbs.

  “Oune,” came out harshly.

  Father Joseph held up a single thumb. “Oune,” he said, pointing with his other hand at the risen alien. Then he said “One,” and pointed at himself.

  The four aliens broke into loud talk. Joseph would guess someone thought it was fine that the strange animals could parrot back numbers.

  “You found us on a starship for God’s sake,” Joseph muttered. “We are not animals.”

  He might as well have saved his breath. They were too intent on their own argument to notice that little dog could do more tricks than they asked for.

  Joseph had been thinking long and hard on this problem. He needed to impress them. Stripped of anything but his brain, he’d have to work hard at it.

  Slowly, Joseph looked around the room. If there was a pad of paper and pencil, or a computer, he couldn’t tell it from Adam.

  I’m going to have to do this the hard way.

  Joseph had given up biting his fingernails many years ago. He always carried something to trim his nails after that. That something was locked away somewhere on this ship.

  His thumbnail had been growing through his captivity despite the urge to give into nervous gnawing.

  Now he bit his thumbnail and ripped it off. It came off deep in the quick, and it came off sharp.

  Now equipped with a pointed object, he tried the second part of his scheme. Using the nail, he stabbed his long finger. He got only a bit of blood the first time, so he had to stab it several times before he got as much as he needed.

  Once it was bleeding, if not freely, then enough, he settled onto the deck. It was metal and painted a shade of white that was soft on the eyes. Joseph made a slash in blood.

  “One. Oune.”

  He managed a number two that wasn’t too smeared. “Two. Due.”

  At three, he had their attention. At four, all were staring at him, even the warriors in their red uniforms.

  Joseph had to bloody a second finger to get to eight. He was saved from having to rip off another thumbnail by the white and green alien producing a flat screen of some sort and a stylus.

  Again, now using the writing gear, Joseph went from one to ten. Finished. He drew a rough example of a hydrogen atom. One small dot surrounded by a ring. “Hydrogen.”

  Then the old priest drew two dots and added two rings. “Helium.”

  The white and green was beside himself. He came around the table and did something with the flat screen that produced a periodic table. The old priest remembered that carbon was 6 and oxygen was 8, but beyond that, he was lost.

  The alien seemed even more excited. He called up a picture of a star.

  “Gund,”

  “Sun,” Joseph said.

  A picture of a space ship appeared. “Gund foon.”

  “Oh, star and starship,” Joseph said, correcting himself.

  The alien called up a picture of two humans, intent on frantic sex. “Hau.”

  Joseph had no idea where that was intended to go. He pointed a finger at himself.

  “Man. My name is Joseph.”

  He pointed a finger at the alien.

  For a long moment, there was silence. Then the alien taped his cheek and spoke. “Iteeche. ob sum Roth’sum’We’sum’Quin qu Chap’sum’We.”

  The white and green spoke in haste to the greys. The one with the most gold in his dress shook his head, then barked something and one of the reds raised his weapon, only to turn and leave the room.

  For the longest time, like a lifetime or three, nothing happened, then the red returned with human clothes. They weren’t Joseph’s but they were human. They hung on him like a limp flag, but they were clothes and he was less cold for the first time in what seemed forever.

  I guess we’re making progress.

  Chapter 15

  Admiral Horatio Whitebred was not happy. He’d provided his people with their freedom. He’d provided them with a planet all their own. He’d even provided them with slaves to make themselves comfortable. But where they happy?

  No!

  The station hadn’t gone in quite right. Neva assured him that minor problems were to be expected. Prefabs were never perfect fits. Normally, she’d just send back to Eden for the missing brackets or parts that were broken or bent in its deployment.

  “But we can’t do that, now can we?” she said in that smokey bedroom voice of hers, then added that shrug and smile that Whitebred had come to like so much.

  “Damn it, we’ve got the machine shops from an entire space dockyard,” Whitebred exploded. “Can’t someone knock together the parts we need?”

  Back at the business’s he’d come from before the war, all a boss had to do was shout a bit and peons came up with what he needed. Maybe he needed a better grade of peons.

  It turned out, he had plenty of peasants. The question was, did he unthaw all of them at once, or do a few this season, then a few next season when he had some spare food? He’d sent a couple of his more competent subordinates to looking through the files on the human icicles. Some of them must have more skills than just farming.

  Damned if some didn’t.

  They held the station together with sealant and wire while they wrestled up some engineers and machinists, mechanics and other technicians who could make the damn station solid and stable. While they did that, the rest of the ships had to float around in zero gee.

  It didn’t make for all that much good sex!

  Clearly, those selling zero gee sex getaways didn’t get a lot of return customers. You needed down to go down!

  But Whitebred and Neva made do.

  With no station to dock too, the cruisers that could go hunting were only too happy to head out to see what they could find.

  Two weeks later, they returned to a station that was working, but they returned empty handed.

  “We didn’t see nothing, Admiral. Space is huge, and finding a ship out there is no joke.”

  “You don’t find a ship in space,” Whitebred told his captains. “You find a planet, and then you back off. Ships go to planets. You find a planet with ships going there, and you’ll find some ships ready for the taking.”

  “But planets may have warships going there, too!”

  “Do I have to do all the thinking for you?” Whitebred yelled, letting his full exasperation out. “Yes, some big planet like Eden, Jerusalem, or Wardhaven may have warships around them, but look, how many warships were going out to Far Pusan?”

  “I staked out Far Pusan, bo
ss. There wasn’t a ship along the whole time.”

  “Of course there wasn’t. We just sheared that sheep. You got to find other lone sheep and shear a new one every time. Think, you idiots, think!”

  Whitebred shouted at them some more, but then he threw a party and made sure the whiskey flowed free. He didn’t have the UCMJ to fall back on here. Yes, they were all wanted men on several planets, but they could also duck off to one of those new planets and set themselves up as something. Hell, some of the serial numbers had been filed off of the unarmed ships. If someone really wanted to play it safe, they could try their hand at merchant shipping.

  Unless, they ran into pirates, of course.

  Anyway, they were a happy lot that evening. They’d thawed out enough pretty women to make all the men happy. The next day, they were ready to reload the ships and send them out again.

  This time, Whitebred put his mind to where the fat ships should go. He picked the planets and the shipping lanes, then sent one cruiser with one of the lightly armed merchant ships off to see what they could find. It would be a couple of weeks before they came home. Maybe sooner, if they caught a ship. Longer, if they needed more time to get one.

  In the meantime, Whitebred and Neva set themselves up in the station and got their farm hands working dirtside. He picked some of his more loathsome henchmen from Milassi’s enforcers on Savannah and sent them down to see that the farms got productive, quick.

  A week later, he dropped down to check on how they were doing – and had the overseers executed. They’d spent more time chasing tail than they’d spent getting the work done, and the attitude of the farm hands was little short of deadly.

  Watching their previous overseers and slave drivers swing slowly in the wind . . . Whitebred made sure the executions were by slow choking, no easy neck snap . . . the workers were sullen.

  Whitebred took the opportunity to try his own hand at management. “You didn’t like them much, now did you?”

  That got grunts of agreement.

  “There’s plenty more where they came from. I could send more of them down here.”