by Jay Toney
Doc powered up the main guns and targeted the destroyer's bridge. He fired the starship killing weapons. Twin beams of green energy struck the destroyer. Its shields aren't fully energized and its armor ports still open. The particle beams burned through the viewports and hull plating, burning their way deep into the ship.
Doc isn't through with them yet. "Natasha, launch our Marauders." Two squadrons of Marauders headed towards the disabled Alliance warship. The Nighthawks would dock with the ship, and the boarding crewmen they carried would take care of any survivors. Captain Roberts didn't need to tell his raiders that no Alliance soldiers could be allowed to live. It is possible that any survivors could make their way back to their fleet and identify the Queen Anne's Revenge. Doc's crewmen had been working with me long enough to know that already. After dealing with any survivors, they could begin salvage operations taking anything of value, weapons, ammunition, and armor that could be sold on the black market. Then his pilots could return to the wreck pick with salvage teams and start stripping valuable parts that could be used for spare parts or sold. Scavenger teams from Antares would take care of whatever was left. In a few weeks, there would be no evidence that the destroyer was ever here.
The Reaper squadron is tasked at providing close air support, preventing the gunships from attacking the Nighthawks while they are still docked to the destroyer.
"Jadsia, You have the controls," Doc informed his sensor officer. He headed to the shuttle bay where his Marauder is waiting. Captain Roberts stopped in the ready room and changed into a flight suit and helmet. It would serve as a space suit allowing him to enter the shuttle bay without the need to close the hangar door and pressurize it before boarding his Marauder.
Doc cycled the airlock and entered the shuttle bay. He boarded his starfighter through its open rear hatch. He closed the door, then headed forward to the cockpit. He sat in the pilot seat and then connected the life support connections of his suit to the ship. Doc powered up the Marauder and lifted it off the deck with the starfighters repulsorlift engines before retracting its landing gear. When he was clear of the hangar, he headed to the planet.
"All Reapers form up on me," Doc announced over the Marauders comms. There were still three freighters to deal with and 10 gunships waiting for his squadron. They wouldn't be expecting an attack from him, but they undoubtedly knew that something is wrong with their comm messages being left unanswered.
Doc locked the ship's navigation system onto the spaceport located just north of the capital city. Then he dove into the planet's atmosphere in a full powered dive. His Marauder's heat shields blocked most of the heat, but they didn't stop the plasma from obscuring his view of the ground. To casual observers on the ground, Doc's squadron would look like meteors streaking towards the surface. Trained observers would recognize it for what it is, an attack. Doc is sure that the Antares regulars won't warn the Alliance militia occupying their planet. They had too much to lose.
The Alliance didn't attack diving through the atmosphere at full power. They rarely fought ship to ship with their starfighters. They used their gunships to control the people on the ground with fear of their military might. The Alliance used their freighters and gunships to raid colony worlds much the same way that Doc did. The only difference is that Doc is a pirate and the Alliance is made up of professional soldiers.
Doc didn't raid Antares or its people. He brought most of his wealth here and protected the planet. After all, it is his planet. He needed someplace that he could call home and rest at between raids. The Alliance went too far when they invaded Doc's home. They would pay very dearly for that.
Doc pulled back on his throttles letting the thicker atmosphere slow his Marauder's dive. His v-max warnings were sounding for his attention. He silenced the warning alarms. His speed wasn't critical yet, but getting to the surface fast is. His starfighter's target acquisition computer identified the thirteen targets below him and assigned them a priority. "Keep the freighters intact, if you can. Don't let them get airborne. I'll deal with them later. The gunships are our primary targets," Doc informed the Reaper squadron pilots.
Doc pulled out of the dive and locked onto the first target his Marauder assigned to him. He selected the starfighter's missiles and fired as soon as he got a missile lock tone. Then He banked hard and turned his starfighter to a new heading. Soldiers on the ground fired at his ship. Doc switched to the Marauders guns and fired a burst from the starfighter's 40mm cannon. There wasn't much left of the soldiers and what there is would have to be cleaned up with a bucket and a sponge.
Doc locked onto the next gunship and turned his Marauder to an intercept course and pulled back on the controls to gain altitude. He lined the gunship up in his targeting reticle and fired his starfighter's cannons. A few of the rounds penetrated the gunship's hull, most of them hit the left wing blowing the wing apart, and several bullets hit the tail, damaging it. The gunners aboard the gunship fired back from their weapon turrets. Doc spun the Marauder to evade the gunfire. He switched to missiles and fired. The missile hit and the gunship exploded into an expanding ball of fire. Doc pulled back hard to avoid the gunship's wreckage.
The Reaper squadron was left to finish off the last of the Alliance gunships. Doc landed his Marauder on the spaceports tarmac. The Alliance regulars swarmed and boarded the freighters, rounding up their crew members. A small group of officers met Doc at his starfighter. One of the officers saluted Doc. He had five gold stars on the epaulets of his uniform shirt identifying him as the commander of the Antares military. The man shook Doc's hand then embraced him in a hug as if he was a close friend or a family member.
"The freighters are yours, use them to compensate the people who have suffered losses from the Alliance," Doc told the officer.
"We have imprisoned everyone who has landed in an escape pod or a lifeboat. You don't have to worry about rounding up the survivors. The people we captured are being taken deep into our mines where they will be put to work. It is unlikely that any of them will ever see the light of day again," General Sherman told Doc.
"I have more people aboard the Queenie. Some of which I might keep for crew. The ones that don't join me will have to be taken care of. I will let you know which ones are suitable to join the military where they can be controlled and which ones aren't."
"I'll find a place for them somewhere they can be watched and controlled. There is no need to put innocent people to work in the salt mines."
"My sentiments, exactly," Doc said. "That is one of the reasons I brought them here instead of taking them elsewhere. By the way, I've come across a weapon shipment in addition to what my crew is salvaging from the destroyer. Are you interested in it?"
"You needn't bother asking. I'll buy everything you can spare," General Sherman said. There will come a time when we will need them and more. The Alliance is getting bolder with their incursions into our territory."
Doc pulled his personal comm from a pocket on his flight suit and used it to contact his ship. "Start sending shuttle loads of our special cargo down to the spaceport. Send the prisoners down except for the few I have scheduled for interviews. I will be returning to the ship soon."
After enjoying a meal with his friend, Doc entered his Marauder and took off. He could see salvage crews from Antares already busy removing the destroyer's sublight engines and thruster assemblies, working alongside his salvage teams. He passed by the tenders and the repair pods that are working on removing the weapon turrets and hull plating while he piloted his Marauder back to his starship. Doc landed his starfighter on the hangar deck and shut down its engines. He sealed his helmet and then depressurized his Marauder. There was no need to close the hangar doors and pressurize the shuttle bay just for him. He opened the rear hatch and made his way to the airlock. As soon as it was filled with air, he removed his helmet.
Doc headed to the bridge. He held his interviews there where his other officers could have some input in his decisions. When Doc arrived, five prisoners are waiting for him, two women and three men. All of them are freshly showered and groomed, and wearing new jumpsuits. Their chains and shackles were removed, but two armed guards are watching them.
Doc signaled the guard to let him know he is ready for the first prisoner. One of the women is ushered into the bridge. Doc took a seat on the command chair and began, "What is your name, and rating?"
"My name is Gloria. I am rated as a mechanics assistant second class."
"What do you know?"
"I am not sure that I know what you mean," Gloria answered.
"Most planets tend to underrate women. Today's society is male-dominated. Doc doesn't care how you were rated. He wants to know what your abilities are, so he knows where to place you if he decides to accept you as part of his crew," Jane explained. "Tell me, what is the most likely cause of harmonics felt throughout the starship while it is in hyperspace?"
"If the imbalance is felt by the entire crew, I would suggest searching for programming errors with the gravity plating and inertia dampers. To fix the problem, I would begin by looking for damaged or failed field coils in the hyperdrive."
"Why the field coils and not the phase inducers?" Jane asked.
"Phase inducers are regularly calibrated and changed when they require constant retuning. They have a low failure rate and are typically replaced long before they fail. Field coils have multiple redundancies due to their higher failure rate. It is unlikely that one bad coil would cause an imbalance in the hyperdrive motivator, but multiple coils can and do cause harmonic imbalances."
"I want her on my team. Start her as an Engineer Third Class, but count on promoting her to second-class very soon," Jane told Doc.
"But, I'm not rated as an engineer. The Alliance Technical School I attended only certified me as a mechanics assistant second class," Gloria said.
The Alliance has the best technical schools in human-occupied space and the latest technology. The best engineers are trained there. Of course, most of their graduating students receive commissions in their military. Anyone with Alliance certification is highly sought after. Women, no matter how good they are, rarely passed the training and are always underrated. Doc knew that. He is an Alliance citizen.
Doc kept his citizenship, for the benefits, even though he spent most of his life in the Commonwealth of Free Worlds. If he was ever hunted for piracy; he could return to Alliance territory where he would be safe from prosecution and execution.
"If Jane says you are an engineer, then that is what you are. I could care less how the Alliance government rated you. If you are deficient in any skills, Jane and Randolph will get you up to speed. Between the two of them, you will not find a better pair of engineers to learn from.
As soon as the interviews are over, assign her a cabin and give her an officers sign on bonus. Take her planetside so she can get whatever she needs," Doc instructed Jane.
Doc signaled the guards for the next prisoner. This time two prisoners entered the bridge. It is unusual for two people to be interviewed at the same time. There must be a reason for it. He told them, "Give me your names and positions."
"I am Jeff," one of the men said.
"My name is Derick," the other said. "We are both cargo handlers. Both of us can pretty much do anything related to handling freight, whether it is loading, unloading, weight distribution or inventory control."
"I can always use more cargo handlers, but the people I employ are also tasked with taking part as members of raiding parties and ground assault teams. Simply put that means you will be tasked with taking prisoners or killing them."
"I can't do that," Jeff said.
"It is better to find out now than in the middle of a fight."
"What is going to happen to me?"
"It doesn't look like you are fit for military duty, but my friend, General Sherman, has assured me that he will find gainful employment planetside for you. Antares is a beautiful planet. Follow the rules he gives you, and you will live a peaceful life."
"Isn't there something that I can do aboard another freighter?"
"I am afraid that you no longer have that option."
Doc turned to Derick. "What about you? Can you kill?"
"I've never killed before, but I will if I have to. Especially if it means them," Derick pointed to the wreckage of the Alliance destroyer on the viewscreen. "I've never disobeyed an order and don't intend to start now. My life is in space. I intend to spend the rest of my life working aboard a starship and dying aboard one if need be."
Doc told the guards, "Have someone escort Derick to the ship stores so he can pick out some clothing and issue him a basic kit and comm."
"I've assigned crewman Derick a cabin on deck five, cabin number 3-23," Natasha said. "That means corridor three, cabin number 23 in case you are unfamiliar with our lingo."
Derick was escorted from the bridge, and Jeff was taken to a waiting shuttle on the hangar deck. He would be flown down to the surface after the interviews with anyone else that Doc didn't want as part of his crew.
Next, the last female prisoner was led into the room. Doc started with the same routine questions about her name and ratings. She responded, "My name is Angel. I am rated as a shuttle pilot, but I have tested for class four starships and can probably pass the examinations for class six ships."
"I don't need any more shuttle pilots or helmsmen. What I need are pilots that can fly starfighters, particularly Marauders," Doc said. "Next candidate."
"Wait. I haven't been certified because the Alliance doesn't allow women pilots in combat nor does the government in the Nibaru star system where I come from. I probably have as much time in Viper simulators, flying combat simulations, as any of your pilots do in your Marauder simulators. I regularly score in the top three positions."
"Marauders don't handle much differently than Vipers, and their controls are similar. Marauders carry more weapons, and you will need to be trained with their use. That isn't a problem. If you can fly as good as you boast, I can use you. Tentatively, you are assigned to the Reaper squadron.
Natasha, contact the Reaper squadron's leader. Have him personally escort Angel to the combat simulator to check her out. If he is satisfied with her performance, assign her a cabin, give her a sign on bonus. Start her as a warrant officer. She can go planetside with Gloria to get essentials."
There is only one person left to interview, he is brought into the bridge. The prisoner heard enough from the other people that were interviewed to know what is wanted of him. He began without waiting for Doc to ask the questions. "My name is Steven. I hold a certification as a gunner first class and have top scores for weapon accuracy."
"Weapon turrets are rarely used on freighters, and their defensive guns are controlled from the bridge," Doc said.
"True enough, but they still need people for muscle in case they are boarded. The pay is good, and I see enough action to keep me interested in the job. Between engagements, I am kept busy doing menial tasks like cleaning and changing filters. The work is easy and generally the captain I worked for let me get my game on when my skills were needed."
"Game on?" Doc asked.
"Yeah, I like shooting people and things, but mostly people."
A killer running loose on the decks of the Queen Anne's Revenge is something that Doc didn't need or want. He wanted people who didn't like killing, but would do so to get the job done. The Antares military can use a soldier like him. They could keep him busy and control him. He made a mental note to let his friend, General Sherman, know the outcome of this int
erview.
"I can't use you on my starship, but I have a friend who is in need of people with your skills. I will personally send General Sherman of the Antares Regulars a letter recommending you for service. If you choose to accept enlistment, he will give you plenty of opportunities to get your game on."
"I've tried enlisting before. I was rejected for being too violent," Steven said.
"He won't reject your application with my endorsement, and I will personally recommend that he sends you to where the action is."
"Gee, thanks. I don't know how to thank you, Captain. I owe you one."
"It is my pleasure." Steven left, whistling a tune, with the guards heading to the shuttle bay and his ride planetside. Doc sent General Sherman the recommendation, as promised.
Doc is in the corridor on deck four near the holographic simulation rooms. A flight helmet flew out of the chamber, barely missing him and hitting the wall. Squadron Leader Tompkins came out of the room in a rage. "Is there something bothering you?" Doc asked.
"It's that newbie that you wanted me to check out. That damn bitch kicked my ass three times like it was nothing! She didn't even break out in a sweat. To make matters worse, she told me this was her first time piloting a Marauder in a combat simulation. She humiliated me!"
Doc pulled his comm from his pocket. "Natasha, promote Angel to lieutenant and assign her as assistant squadron leader to the Reaper Squadron.
Back To Business
"Captain Roberts, I have the freighters on my sensors," Jadsia reported.
"Natasha, set an intercept course, full power to our sublight engines.
Devin, maintain communication and transponder silence. Sound condition red, all hands to battle stations.
Jane, get our shields up and secure our bulkhead doors," Doc ordered.
