In less than twenty minutes, Captain Slovue felt the shudder of another vessel docking with Thelvian Moonbeam. He and his Melphim first officer, Blelmen Do, waited by the hatch to meet the invaders.
The hatch retracted and rolled aside. In strode a slender human male and a stocky Sestran female, guns drawn. More than twenty armed pirates of assorted origin followed. They swarmed out of the docking bay and up the main passageway.
The human spoke first. “Thank you for cooperating, Captain. This operation will go much smoother and with less bloodshed than it would otherwise.”
“To whom am I speaking?” Captain Slovue asked. “I will not deal with nameless pirates.”
“I don’t see that you have any choice,” the human responded. “However, my name is Tom Slovensky. This is Captain MimKestal.”
“I will ask you again,” Captain Slovue said, stiff-backed and with steel in his voice. “What are your intentions?”
“It is quite simple,” the Sestran pirate stated in a flat, emotionless voice. Her long antennae undulated as if in a gentle breeze. “Right now, my people are dividing your passengers and crew into two groups, those young enough and strong enough to make marketable slaves….” She paused momentarily as a commotion echoing down the main passageway threatened to drown out her words. “And those that are not. Once this is done, the old and weak will be expendable.”
Captain Slovue blanched at the implications, and then winced at the sound of blaster fire coming from the direction of the Grand Ballroom. There was nothing he could do, not with two guns pointed at him.
“But-but you said that if we cooperated you would spare us. We cooperated to the letter.”
Slovensky spoke again, this time with a smirk. “I said you might all come out of this alive. Alas, that is not to be. Too bad, so sad.”
“When we are done with the culling,” Captain MimKestal continued, “the slaves will be confined to their quarters until we reach a suitable marketplace.”
“An-and,” Captain Slovue’s voice broke at last. “And what of my ship?”
“My ship you mean? Once properly armed and reinforced, this vessel will make an excellent pirate ship. Lots of room for weapons and cargo.”
The human gave the aptain a second to consider that statement before shooting and killing the elderly Thorian. The Melphim first officer, shocked at the suddenness of his Captain’s death, offered no resistance as the human led him at gunpoint to be processed with the other 531 slaves.
“Approaching vessels, please state your business.”
“Delphama space traffic control, this is Merchants’ Unity Squadron 6, requesting clearance to top off at your orbital fuel depot.”
“One moment, Squadron 6,” the female voice said over the narrowband microwave link.
Hal gnawed on a ragged fingernail as he waited for clearance.
After a longer-than-usual delay, the voice returned. “Squadron 6, your request is denied. Repeat, your request is denied. In fact, your permission to enter Delphama space is hereby revoked.”
Hal glanced over at Kalen, who looked more frustrated than surprised. “Denied? Revoked? Did you understand me? This is a Merchants’ Unity patrol squadron. We’re out here protecting your interests. We’re requesting refueling clearance so we can continue to do so.”
“Your request came in loud and clear, Squadron 6. I repeat, your request is denied. We are fully capable of protecting our own interests. You will leave this system immediately or be fired upon by the Delphama Defense Force. Do not attempt to approach. Your position has been logged and you are being targeted by seven warships. You have one minute to comply before they move in and engage.”
Hal again glanced at Kalen, who responded with a what-did-you-expect shrug.
“Thanks so much for putting out the welcome mat,” Hal replied with a sour taste in his mouth. “Squadron 6 requesting clearance for an outbound vector.”
“Outbound clearance granted on a heading of one-one-four mark two. Clear skies, Squadron 6.”
“Gee, thanks—for nothing. Squadron 6 out.” Hal engaged the sublight engines, knowing that the other five ships in the squadron were listening to the conversation and would follow the same outbound heading.
He turned to Kalen. “Well, you were right. Chalk up another system that’s slammed its doors in the Unity’s face. You’d think we were the pirates, rather than the people trying to stop them.”
Kalen shrugged. “It’s the pirates who are bribing highly placed officials—not that we can prove anything. That, and the threats of retaliation if the systems assist us in any way. It’s a double whammy. The systems get paid for not helping us and punished if they do. That tactic might not work in the larger, more established systems, but it’s definitely effective in the outlying systems. Can you blame them? If they shun us, the pirates leave their systems alone. With all the news of pirate attacks everywhere else, that has to be an enticing proposition.”
“No kidding. It makes a mafia protection racket seem like small potatoes by comparison. But with those military vessels in the systems, what are they worried about from pirates?”
Kalen shrugged. “My guess is we got ‘lucky’ finding them here today. Most likely they’re just passing through like we are. This system’s not big enough to justify that many warships.”
Hal shook his head and sighed. “This makes what now? Sixteen systems that are off-limits to Unity vessels? It’s getting tougher to plan patrol routes so we have adequate supply lines for refueling and provisions. And with the pirate attacks getting bolder every month, that’s one more complication we don’t need.”
Senior Captain Kalen Jeffries, newly appointed commodore of Squadron 6, grimaced. “Ain’t it, though? All right. We still need fuel. Find us the next closest system on our route and let’s hope we have better luck there.”
“Roger that. Beginning search for a lucky star.”
“Smartass.”
“Yes sir. Just like the rest of me.”
Kalen snorted and shook his head.
Another day, another system, another bar.
Hal, waiting for Kalen to arrive, rolled his eyes at the moron on the holoscreen railing against the Merchants’ Unity. This sort of editorial piece had become disturbingly common in many systems over the past months.
“The Unity once served a purpose, but its day is past. We live in a new time, a new universe—one where pirates roam the spaceways and the Unity is powerless to stop them. Yet they continue to bleed commercial enterprises dry to keep their fleet operating. And those companies are forced to pass on the high cost of operating those ships to us, the consumers. That means higher prices on almost everything.” The Thorian stared into the holo pickup, his yellow eyes glinting in the bright studio lights. “Have you noticed an increase in the price of imported goods lately?”
“Damn right!” a rather imposing Melphim down the bar from Hal agreed. He raised his beer mug unsteadily toward the screen, slopping the red liquid into his lap. He was too far gone to notice.
“Those Unies are sim-sim-simply a big wa-waste of money.” He nearly fell backward off his barstool before righting himself. “I have bet-better things to do with my money than to was-waste it on their joyr-joyr-joyrides all over the gal-galaxy.”
Joyrides? This got Hal’s hackles up. Is that what they think? He approached and put his hand on the Melphim’s broad shoulder. “Look, son, maybe you’ve had enough. Let me call you a ride home.” His tone brooked no disagreement.
The Melphim turned in surprise. “Ge-get your hands off-off me. I—” He squinted his narrow-set eyes suspiciously at Hal and took in his tan ship’s jumpsuit. “Say. You-you’re one of them Unie bastards tha’ ’re costing us all money! Hey, everyone! This is one’a them Unie freeloaders tha’ ’re eating into all our paychecks!”
Several dozen heads turned toward Hal. None looked friendly.
“Hell, yeah, I serve in the Merchants’ Unity. And proudly! We’re the only thing keeping the pi
rates at bay. Without us, many of you—or your women or your children—would be dead or in chains. Freeloaders? You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! People are dying out there, trying to keep you safe. I’ve lost more than a few friends to pirate attacks. Believe me, they’re a very real threat. You need to take them more seriously. They’re growing more powerful, not less.”
“So you s-say. I say you pe-people are stealing the food out of our mouths. I lost my job at the factory—so did a lot of the people here.” His gesture took in the whole bar. Several heads nodded in agreement. “Because they had to cu-cut costs; because they were paying you pe-people to ‘protect’ us. Ha! Where were you whe-when the pirates attacked Joreid Explorer last month, hey? No one from that ship has been seen since. My brother was on that ship.”
Uh-oh. The mood in the bar turned ugly in a hurry. Many glared at Hal and several started toward him.
“I-I’m sorry,” he tried, now concerned for his safety. “I’m very sorry for your loss. There just aren’t enough Unity ships to go around. There are too many pirates for us to cover every system adequately. We do what we can, but—”
“What seems to be the problem here?”
The voice came from the largest Chan’Yi that Hal had ever seen, over three meters tall and wearing the uniform of the local constabulary. Kalen stood beside him.
“No problem, officer,” Hal replied. “These nice people asked me to leave and I was just about to comply.” He made his way through the crowd to the door where Kalen and the cop waited. The Chan’Yi stayed behind a moment, to give the humans a chance to leave in peace.
“Thank goodness you showed up just then,” Hal said. “I was afraid I was going to have to teach them all the error of their ways.”
Kalen snorted. “R-i-i-ght. Let’s just hope we don’t have too many more educational opportunities after this. I don’t know how many times the headmaster will be around to intervene.”
Tarl Penrod nodded with approval. “Excellent.”
The main corridor extended for more than a hundred meters before curving out of sight. It was wide enough, and the ceiling high enough, for an industrial earth mover to pass through with plenty of room to spare. In fact, large mining equipment had traversed this and other corridors for more than two decades.
“This will do nicely for our new base of operations.” Penrod ran his EVA-suited right hand, minus the pinky finger—the result of welching on a bet in his younger days—along the smooth plasma-fused stone walls of the corridor. “It looks like we can house at least a couple hundred people here, along with supplies, munitions, and ‘visitors.’”
His second-in-command, V.P. of Operations Jern Ishtawahl nodded his shiny, nearly fluorescent yellow-green head with enthusiasm.
“That is right. Even better, this base extends more than two kilometers into the asteroid. The Unity, should they ever find us, has nothing capable of reaching us down here. They could pound away at the surface for weeks with their heaviest weapons and all we would feel is some minor tremors—and that assumes no shielding. The rock is extremely dense. That is the reason the mining company finally abandoned operations here. It was too much work for too little reward at the end.”
Penrod nodded. “You’ve done well, Jern. So what will it take to make this place operational?”
The taller Alberian frowned. “Quite a bit, but the hardest part was done for us by the miners. Hundreds of passageways and chambers are already excavated. It would have taken us years to blast through all this rock—just as it took the miners. On the other hand, they removed all the useful equipment—life support, gravity generators, shield generators, etc., when they left. We will have to replace all that, plus we will need to carve out weapons emplacements on the surface, as well as ship hangars. After all, we would not want anyone passing by to notice ships docked outside a presumably abandoned mining site. Plus, there is much additional infrastructure to install: internal wiring, external sensors, computer gear, a water treatment plant, plumbing, air recycling equipment, environmental systems for slaves that require special atmospheric conditions—not to mention making the entire facility airtight—and so on.”
“Of course. So what’s the bottom line? When can you have this fortress operational?”
“It depends on a lot of factors, Tarl. This asteroid is nearly seven kilometers in diameter. That’s a lot of surface area on which to place sensors and proximity mines. And I know you want to convert some of the nearby asteroids into perimeter guard-posts and remote launch points—”
Penrod responded with steel in his voice. “I understand, Jern. I’m confident you’ll handle them with your usual deftness. I just want a ballpark estimate. When?”
Ishtawahl cleared his throat before answering. He knew how much his boss disliked bad news. He was taking a calculated risk with his lie. “Approximately twelve to fifteen months.”
“Twelve—! Too long, Jern. I need this place up and running as soon as possible. You’ve got nine months.”
“But sir!”
“Nine months, Jern. And this place had better be spectacular.”
“Yes sir!” Ishtawahl said with conviction. “Don’t worry, it will be. We will work double shifts if necessary.”
He smiled inwardly. His actual estimate was that it would take only eight to nine months to complete the transformation from an abandoned thorsite mine to BAE’s stronghold. The corporate offices on Pensor were merely for show. This would be the pirate organization’s new headquarters and the primary processing center for slaves and swag. When he completed the refit in less than nine months, he’d look like a hero. And some day, when Penrod had an unfortunate “accident,” Ishtawahl would be his logical successor.
“Excellent. If the Unity thinks they have it bad now, just wait ‘til this base is fully operational. They won’t know what hit ‘em.” Penrod smiled.
“Now, show me where my command center will be.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Hang on! We’ve got two more quems on our tail! Ejecting decoys.”
Hal fired the APCs and launched a mass driver slug at one pirate ship even as he evaded the quark-enhanced missile that didn’t take the bait. The other Unity vessels were similarly engaged with a swarm of pirate ships, bobbing and weaving, biting and stinging. Each side took hits; each side suffered losses.
Two pirates hit Adventurer’s shields simultaneously—one with antiproton cannons and the other with a FoMA: focused microwave array. A quem from another pirate weakened the shield on the opposite side. Adventurer shook with the impact.
“Shields down to thirty-two percent!”
Hal fired a torrent of slugs at the largest of the pirates, one, two, three, four, five of the superdense slugs. The other ship slipped the first three. The fourth vaporized the prow and a split-second later the fifth blasted through the heart of the ship, nearly ripping it in two. The shockwave from the strike did what the impact itself failed to do. The fore and aft sections of the ship tore apart and gradually drifted in different directions. Atmosphere, fluids, and bodies spilled from the two halves of the wreck.
“Got ‘im! He’s dead in the water. Yes! The remaining bogeys are breaking off,” Hal reported. “Chalk one up for the good guys.” He took a relieved breath.
The six functioning raiders jumped to hyperspace one by one. The carcasses of three pirate ships and one Unity vessel tumbled adrift. The acrid stench of burnt insulation wafted through the bridge.
Kalen wrinkled his nose at the smell and toggled the shipwide intercom. “Good work, everyone. Security, send out a search party. Look for survivors. Everyone else, stand down from alert. Make repairs. Keep watch in case the bogeys decide to double back for a surprise visit. Meanwhile, if anyone needs me, I’ll be in my ready room.”
He rose from his command chair, walked calmly toward the rear of the bridge and stepped through the doorway as it appeared in the wall and then disappeared behind him. He went to his desk and sat.
Kalen cl
osed his eyes and let his head fall back against the seatback. He massaged his eyelids with his fingertips. How much longer can we keep this up? They can afford more losses than we can. Our ships may be better, but they have so many of them. We’re always outnumbered. Hal’s done phenomenally so far, but it only takes one mistake, one moment of inattention, one minor miscalculation, one lucky shot, and we’re as dead as those poor bastards drifting out there.
He sighed. Or maybe I’ve just been doing this too long. It was great in the beginning. It was easy to feel like I was making a difference, making the pirates pay for Julie’s death. We managed to keep them away from most of the planets for awhile, and even reduced their numbers quite a bit. But now…. Now we’re losing ground, planet by planet, system by system. It’s only a matter of time until the Unity…. He snorted bitterly. Until the Unity loses its unity.
Face it—we’ve lost. We just can’t bring ourselves to admit it. Sure, we win a skirmish here and there, but it’s just a holding action. For every step forward we take, they knock us back three. When the rest of the new ships come online that’ll help, for a while. But it’s a stopgap measure at best. We’re already losing support in the frontier systems. Soon it’ll be the core systems. And the Unity can’t keep demanding ever-higher dues from the member merchants. Some have already dropped out. If the dues go up again to fund more ships and more crews, more merchants will pull out. And then it’ll all fall apart.
Eventually the systems that refuse us admittance will come to realize that we’re the only hope they have against the pirates. But by then it’ll be too late. Once we’re gone, the pirates won’t have any reason not to raid those systems. There’ll be no one to stand between them and the pirates.
The navies of the core systems do a decent job of policing their own systems, but that’s as far as they go. We’re as close as there is to a galactic police force and we’re failing.
The energy seemed to drain from his body. I’m so desperately tired. Tired of fighting, tired of losing ships, tired of burying good men and women—those we can find enough of to bury, that is.
My Other Car is a Spaceship Page 8
