He was a real piece of work, not related to any of the 'proper' families in the higher circles of the empire or the naval families. He was an intel puke, but a fighter.
He was a big man, massive, with a blunt face suiting his disposition. He had blond hair, but unlike some officers he disdained the long haired look of the pirates they had pretended to be. He'd kept with his buzz cut. His blond hair was a bit silver on the sides, but he looked formidable in his uniform of black.
Captain Maul frowned. He was from the proper families, but from the merchant side, not the military or political sides. He'd joined the military to gain experience and a reputation, but he'd stayed on past his first tour because he'd come to like the position. He'd also come to like being a pirate, truth be told. He'd gained a nice hefty chunk of change for his bank account, all from prize pay outs.
The admiral however had never been out of Horathian space, he'd risen through the ranks in the defense fleet of the home system. He was used to balls and court intrigue, gimme simulations and touchy feel good exercises. Maul never let a touch of his disdain for that sort of thinking touch him. He'd learned a few times not to underestimate the prey, they tended to do desperate stupid things when they thrashed about before they went down. If they knew what was coming even more so. He really couldn't blame them. Turning the crew loose on them was good for his people, but lethal for the new slave subjects most of the time.
The fleet was in tight, they had to stay in tight to station, wear down her shields. “You'd think with this amount of fire power we'd be through by now,” the admiral grumbled.
It was true on its face, but yet not completely true the Captain thought. Had all three tin cans been able to use their weapons, not just the turrets that they had functional but all of them, plus their missiles, maybe. Of course had they used missiles it might have done damage to the prize they wanted to seize.
The admiral was past the idea of a simple plunder and run, there was just too much to take. Much of it, like the industrial replicators and power plants on the station were fixed in place, far too large to move by ship. That meant that they had to take the station intact and keep it that way. Which led to their present dilemma.
They hadn't bothered negotiating at all, at least not at first. A few warning shots had been fired, and a demand to surrender unconditionally had been sent out, but the station had rebuffed them. Of course the admiral's demand for a list of all non Terrans hadn't helped. He'd also tried to get the planet to surrender as well, which of course wasn't in the cards. They only knew this governor Randall by name, but already he was turning into a thorn in their side.
Apparently stories had been told of what happened to people who surrendered to pirates. Their identity had also been exposed, from the unencrypted radio chatter CIC had picked up labeled them as Horathians. Apparently the cover was blown.
“Sir, CIC confirmed Admiral Irons isn't in the system. Intel states he left sometime approximately nine months ago.”
“Darn,” the admiral said mildly.
“But he is responsible for the space station. That part was confirmed,” the Captain added.
“Ah,” the admiral said, nodding.
“Are you still considering an object lesson sir? Or at least retaliation for Prinz Borneo?” the Captain asked, arching an eyebrow in inquiry.
The admiral leaned forward, resting his fists on the wooden railing around the central plot. He made a small sound, something between a grunt of irritation and a hmm.
“No,” the admiral said slowly after a long moment of thought. “I'm loath to destroy anything we don't have to, I'd rather keep it for later. Spoils of war.”
“Ah,” the Captain replied neutrally. A show of force might make taking the system easier, but apparently the admiral was letting his greed rule him.
They had sent the gunship Prinz Borneo to Agnosta to test the planet's alleged network of PDC's. The little ship had been torn apart by fire from two PDC's before she'd made a stable polar orbit. She had been high up, about a hundred and fifty kilometers up, but she'd still been turned into tiny pieces of drifting debris.
“We could skip the planet, focus solely on the station. It's the real prize after all,” the Captain mused.
“No, I want it all,” the admiral grumbled. “But one thing at a time. We'll focus our efforts on the station, bring them to heel, and once I have them tightly in my fist,” he raised a gloved hand clenched tight. “Then I'll study the planet and find a way in.”
“Yes sir.”
“There may be a way in once we have the station. Intelligence we don't have, they may break.”
“If they see what we plan to do to their... scum,” the Captain said, wrinkling his nose. “They might be scared enough to fold. Or they may not, they might stiffen and refuse to allow us to... cleanse their world.”
“You aren't helping,” the admiral grumbled.
“Sorry sir, just laying out all the variables.”
“True,” the admiral said, turning away. Admiral Cartwright was displeased by losing a ship, but glad it had been one of the expendable ones. He had honestly thought the little ship would have been too small a target, or that the planet's PDC's had fallen to neglect... or that they would have shorter range. The range alone was inconvenient. He had been tempted to send something larger when the planet hadn't fired.
Supposedly the intel shop had operatives on the ground that were supposed to disable the planetary defense centers. So much for that theory. He'd have to do some careful probing to see what parts of the planet were uncovered, and their best approach vectors. Missiles perhaps? He frowned. It was possible, they were far cheaper than a gunship.
Of course the intel people might need more time to get the sabotage done. That was always possible. He frowned, staring at the plot.
Who knows? He might be able to get an invasion force in from the right angle, maybe even taking the defense instillation intact? But for now, time to point out the obvious and rub his protégée's face in his mistake.
He curled his lip theatrically as a thought came to him. “See? Planetary defense centers have their strengths. But we've got an answer to that. We just need some rocks. Anyone up for a game of billiards?”
“More like bowling sir, dropping big rocks to see how many pins we can get,” Captain Maul, flag Captain of the destroyer Cutlass replied. He'd thought at first being a flag Captain would do his career wonders. Now he just regretted the whole thing and wished it would be concluded. Hopefully it would soon, if the admiral took enough of an interest, he might tire of being on the ship and transfer his flag to the station as system governor. That would certainly be a relief.
“I don't care, just figure it out.”
“Well sir, as it happens, there are a few in this dock they built. Someone's been busy mining. Convenient no? And we could pack the dock up. Send it and the other dock down in a nice ball or in pieces.”
“No, I think we may have a use for both,” the admiral replied, rubbing his hands together. “We've got ourselves our own El Dorado. The Emperor will be quiet pleased when he finds out about it. High Command will be quite pleased with me indeed.” Visions of his being made a lord were clouding his thoughts of here and now. Duke Cartwright? He smiled at the thought.
“Yes sir,” the flag Captain said neutrally. He was the one who had passed the idea of going to Antigua after picking up the rumors on Protodon. Okay, so a member of his staff had passed it on to him, but who cares? They were peons after all. He resented being passed over himself though. The admiral was in a high enough rank, it would be nice to share some of the spoils.
Admiral really. An admiral of what? Three destroyers, Cutlass, Sirius, and Viper. There were of course a dozen Frigates, another eighteen corvettes and thirty, no twenty nine gunships. Then of course there was the one converted factory ship the Ramona, nine troop ships, ten freighters, their last remaining light yacht turned courier, and their single megaton converted tanker. He eyed the beacons for the au
tomated gas mining platforms in the atmosphere of the gas giant. The Fat Sow was a bit redundant right now. It wasn't much of a fleet, but they did have quite a few ships. So maybe someone being in charge of them all and not also busy managing and fighting their ship was important.
But why did he have to be saddled with Cartwright? Sometimes he thought there was no justice in the universe.
“I'll be quite well rewarded for this. Perhaps I'll even be selected as governor of this province? Who knows. But first, we need to secure this system in an iron fist. Show them who's boss. Liberate them from their ideals, show them the error of their ways.”
“Yes sir,” the Captain said, nodding dutifully. He knew when to toe the party line after all. At least that much they could agree upon. And after all, accidents did happen right? Space was a dangerous place, filled with, oh, all sorts of dangerous things. People too, and gases and poisons. The admiral may find himself never waking up some day, and the flag Captain 'reluctantly' stepping in his shoes to fill the void in the chain of command. He smiled at the thought.
...*...*...*...*...
“Major Zimmer, perhaps the stubborn natives need an incentive to surrender. I want you to send in your forces to the shipyard, drydock, and other manned stations in the area. When you have them all, let me know and I will send navy crews over to take over the hardware.”
“Aye aye sir,” Major Zimmer said, saluting the admiral's image. “For the honor of Emperor Ramichov we'll get it done sir.”
“See that you do,” the admiral said simply. “Good hunting, out.”
Major Zimmer turned to his staff as the admiral signed off. “You heard the admiral, we have a job to do. Maximum shock effect, minimum damage to property. After all, we want it all,” he said, grinning. They knew that each would get a share of the prize money involved. With the station and a shipyard, it was liable to be a hefty chunk of change. Throw in the three ships in the dry docks, and it would really be a prize. They didn't know why there were two drydocks, they didn't care. The larger one, the one with all the rectangular modules was obviously a shipyard. It was a great prize.
“Yes sir,” a Captain replied, grinning evilly. “Resistance?”
“Most likely none, but be careful anyway. Don't get overconfident.”
“I doubt they have weapons, after all, the yard isn't an armory.”
“We don't know that,” the Major stressed, staring hard at his officers. Many gulped. “Get in, secure the facility, keep your people on a short leash. When the station's secure, then eject the unwanted scum. Then we can... have fun.”
There were cheers at that news. They had been cooped up in the ships for months, the men had little to do. Now was the time for action.
Zimmer frowned. This would be the real test. The first combat tests of the new equipment, the Gauss coil rifles and the other crew service weapons. Each squad had a mix of weapons, four Gauss rifles, two of the older gunpowder rifles or shot guns, one crew service heavy weapon, and a mix of recovered Federation hand weapons that had been rebuilt. The veterans had the newer or reliable weapons. Green units had the older weapons or anything they could find. Some of his soldiers had one firearm and a knife, sword, or machete as a secondary weapon.
The Gauss rifles were a concern, their coils tended to overheat and explode if they weren't properly handled and kept cool. It had something to do with the discharge circuits and how much they were used. He'd have any noncoms balls if that happened. Still, each could fire single shot twelve gram steel rounds down range, or fire them full auto. The steel rounds were dirt cheap, they had spiral groves to spin stabilize them, but again, he'd have anyone's ass who went full auto for no reason.
A third of his men had powered combat armor as well. Exo armor, not quite within shouting distance of the last generation Federation armor, but more than a match for anything the stationers had.
Shuttles of many different classes, makes and models flung themselves from their mother ships and at their targets. “Aren't we going to destroy the solar farms?”
“Why bother? From what I heard, we're keeping the real estate,” Sergeant Nast replied. He looked over his men. They were ready. “We're keeping this place. The admiral will send some troops back to take Protodon since it's our gateway here, but this moves up the timetable a lot. Keep your head out of your ass and keep your dick in your pants until I tell you otherwise. That goes double for you Pencil dick,” he snarled, poking a Private in the shoulder. “You get any ideas of a 'premature' event and I'll cut the damn thing off. Got it?”
“Yes Sergeant!”
“Good.”
“Sir, ships, tugs and shuttles are scattering across the system! The roaches are running!” the pilot said over the intercom.
“Darn,” one Private said.
“Let them run. They have to come out eventually, they have to breathe after all. Then we'll squish them.”
“Besides, we'll get what's left in the stations. The yard didn't evacuate much, a couple tugs out of the main bay. That's it.”
“That's fine, just fine. The more for us to play with,” the Sergeant growled. “Right boys?”
The compartment echoed with nasty laughter.
...*...*...*...*...
Regina remained at her post, treating wounded as they came in. But she heard the firing, and a part of her wanted to run, wanted to hide. She could hear the gloating laugh, it wouldn't be good. She winced when it came from the infirmary doorway.
“So what do we have here?” a nasty, almost mechanical voice said.
“The infirmary,” another pirate said, tapping the Red cross and the word spelled out underneath. “See?”
“I can read,” the other snarled, shoving his partner aside. He casually came in, looked around, then shot a wounded Veraxin in the head. “That's what we call, an attention getter,” he said when the screams and moans quieted.
“Get the other scum out.”
“Yes sir,” the second pirate said, passing him and then yanking on arms to pull the aliens and Neo's in the room out. They shuffled out, eyes vacant and lost. Soon only the human staff and three wounded humans were left.
“You know, we've got some women in our ranks, but not many. You'll do. Even though your boobs sag and you've got the face of a warthog,” the first pirate said.
“Really, this coming from a pissant with a gun? You're real brave with that gun,” Regina said defiantly. She knew she should be quiet, keep her head down and just focus on survival, but they made her so mad! There was no need for... her thoughts cut off as she heard stuttering fire, then an airlock flush. She closed her eyes tightly.
“Spunk, oooh I like spunk,” the first said mockingly.
The second pirate came back in. “All flushed,” he said, hefting his weapon, a long rectangular block of a Gauss rifle. Regina couldn't take her eyes off the thing. There was a shuffle, more pirates came in behind the first two.
“Good. Got the zip ties?”
“Yeah, but there are restraints over there,” the second said, indicating the stirrups on the exam table.
“Yeah, but I want to do em from all angles.”
“Shit, okay.”
“This time use the bag. I know you like seeing their eyes but I don't.”
“Just as long as you let them breathe, it's no fun when the suffocate too fast,” the second said as Regina's eyes went wide. She felt an icy chill and then a warm wet feeling between her legs as her bladder let go. She had never been so scared in her life.
“We'll see. Depends on how tight she is and how much fight she puts up,” the first said. He took a cigar out, lit it, and then puffed on it as his partner and another pirate started restraining the wounded and other staff. “Lady, you and me are going to have some fun,” he said, grinning evilly as his cold eyes glittered.
Regina shivered uncontrollably as the arms reached for her.
...*...*...*...*...
For days the station shields get hammered. Prim was constantly bombarded by
demands to surrender along with the grasers from the ships. The Cybers, Taurens, and other engineers did their best to cut power demand and reinforce the shields, but they knew it was only a matter of time before something broke or they ran out of fuel. Already banks of radiators were overheating. Attempting to collect the excess heat and convert it into electricity were met with mixed results, no engineering system was perfect after all, there was always waste.
“What do they want? If they'd only tell us!” D'red said, shaking his virtual head.
“Us. They want us. They want in, that's why they keep knocking and demanding we surrender,” Rasha Warner said.
“And when they do, they will come in with their guns and kill. They will rape, they will kill. They're pirates, it's what they do. Loot, plunder, rape, pillage, and burn. Mark my words. We must endure,” Ron Steward said. His neobear body shimmered as his eyes flashed. His wife Rachael nodded in support. “Whatever we do, we must not give in and let them in. It will be hell all over again if we do.”
“Look what they've already done to the yard and other stations,” Rasha spat. They'd witnessed the pirates take the habitation modules of the Yard Dog shipyard. The crew on board had left a whisker laser open and they had witnessed the indiscriminate violence inside. Every non human had been executed on the spot, no quarter given. The female humans had been brutally bound and raped. The men had been forced to watch. In some cases they had either been forced to participate, or had been bound and raped themselves. Any who put up a fight had been tortured and then executed.
“No, we can't. We just can't give up,” Clio said softly. The AI was shaken, she'd had a lot of organic friends in the Yard Dogs, since she had been a shareholder in the company. Now many were dead, the survivors were brutalized.
“We're going to have to do something, come up with a contingency plan now and put it into action. Eventually they will find a way in. It's inevitable. So we need to work on a method of hiding us so we can stay alive to keep the station's computer net functional, as well as hide as many non humans on the station as we can,” Yan Fu said.
Jethro: First to Fight Page 59
