“One ship that seems to be dancing with one specific pirate vessel at the moment,” the admiral noted wryly. “I suppose that’s Vattermann you’re tangoing with?”
“It is, sir, but not for the reason you suspect.”
“All right.”
Sydney paused a moment. “Vattermann has taken a civilian hostage,” she informed Alexander, her voice low and challenging. “Said civilian is ... a person of consequence to one of the allies I mentioned gaining. A person who will be able to supply first-hand testimony in regard to Vattermann’s crimes.”
The admiral stared at her a moment, then nodded. “Understood,” he finally said. “And would those allies be the pirate ships that seem to be defending Outpost Station?”
“Ah —” She hesitated a moment. “Those pirates do seem to have become allies, but their connection to the hostage is only indirect.”
Alexander considered for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. I’ve already reinforced the militia. I gather we need to secure everything but your current target, then?”
“If you would, sir. I have prom — no, I have a duty to extract the civilian unharmed, if at all possible.”
Now Alexander smiled. “Of course — Captain. And I wouldn’t dream of depriving your marines of a chance for a bit of field exercise.”
Sydney felt herself relax for the first time since learning that Shades of Glory had arrived. “Indeed not, Admiral,” she said, allowing the tiniest of smiles to touch her own lips. “I do believe there are enough other ships to give your marines sufficient exercise as well.”
The admiral nodded. “Consider it done. And Captain?”
“Sir?”
“Your history with Vattermann remains the past, as far as my logs are concerned. Anything else, we can discuss after we finish mopping up this little set-to.”
The smile remained on Sydney’s face as she nodded acknowledgement. “Thank you, Admiral. I look forward to it.”
Her screen blanked as Alexander cut the connection. Sydney sat for a moment, considering what “anything else” should include, then dismissed the question as Morrigan shuddered in response to yet another strike. Hurriedly, she headed back for the bridge.
4
“Direct hit! They’re down to one engine!”
Vattermann raised a fist in jubilation at the cry. “Ja! We have them now!” His whoop of jubilation brought a brief smile to the face of Stefan Holzig, though the second in command refrained from a more physical demonstration of his glee ... which he decided had been a good idea when Captain Gunnar Schultz spoke up, from his position behind the scan tech.
“Ah, Kommandant? We have a new arrival in the system.”
Vattermann, a grin of exultation still on his face, turned his attention to the ship captain.
“What kind of new arrival?”
“A TSM vessel, Kommandant,” Shultz reported, hesitation clear in his voice. “A ... a Vanguard class cruiser.”
“Wass?” Vattermann leaped to his feet, crossing the distance from his throne to the scan position in a heartbeat. “A Vanguard class....” His eyes widened as he took in the information just forming on the light-bound sensor.
“Sheist.” An objective observer would have reported that the pirate’s face paled at the information; no one on the bridge said a word in that regard, though, if they noticed. “Sheist, sheist, sheist. Schultz!”
“Kommandant?”
“Get us out of here! We may have that whore Chambers on the ropes, but we cannot take on a Vanguard battle cruiser.” Vattermann stood staring at the scan output for a long moment, his skin pale, his breathing rapid.
“Schnell,” he added quietly as he watched the gigantic TSM ship draw rapidly closer. “Sehr, sehr schnell.”
5
“Captain,” Shannon McInerny called out as Sydney entered the bridge. “Vattermann’s turning tail. His hyper engines are coming up.”
The captain changed the direction of her brisk walk, heading for the scan station instead of her own command chair. “Ms. Francis,” she called as she went, “convince the pirate that running is not his best plan.”
“Working on it, Ma’am,” Francis replied, sounding a bit distracted as she concentrated on finding a firing solution.
Sydney reached the scan station to peer over McInerny’s shoulder. “What’s their progress, Ensign?”
“Power is still climbing, Captain, but no hyper window has formed. I —” The tech made a quick adjustment to her equipment, then peered closely at the results. “I don’t believe they’re going to be able to form a window, Ma’am. The damage to their hull has left the ship unbalanced....”
Even as McInerny was speaking, Sydney glanced up at the bridge’s main viewscreen, which showed the Hans Vattermann I abruptly pulling out of its tango with Cahan Morrigan. The pirate ship vectored itself “up,” breaking with the ecliptic of the Cyg-C system in the clear hope of fleeing to a hard-to-find location.
As Sydney watched, though, one of the Vattermann’s engines, riddled with damage from an earlier hit, partially broke loose from its mountings. Momentum from the vessel’s abrupt change in vector caused the huge engine to swing on its one remaining fastener, the arc of that swing dropping the entire mass hammer-like on Vattermann’s Gravitational Field Displacement Generator housing. The resulting impact flattened the housing ... which drove the GFDG itself downward, through the hull beneath it and entirely through the ship’s engineering compartment, to blast out the other side of the vessel.
Whether or not any engineers or equipment survived the incident was moot; without the GFDG in place and functioning, neither the Vattermann nor any starship could sidestep relativity and enter hyperspace.
“They’re still powering, Captain,” McInerny said, “but they’re not going anywhere.”
“We can’t have them blowing up, either. Ms. Francis —” Sydney began.
“I’m on it, Captain,” the weapons officer snapped. “Almost got it. And ... there.”
On the screen a plasma burst could be seen blasting from Morrigan to impact on the already damaged GFDG housing. Against a normally shielded vessel a plasma blast would have had little effect, but against the Vattermann — shields already compromised from battle and now missing its GFDG function — the plasma shot through the huge hole left by the GFDG’s exit and melted its way through what was left of engineering like a hot knife through butter. Almost as an afterthought, the electromagnetic properties of the plasma added their power to the blast, surging through every electrical system Vattermann possessed.
The ship went dark.
“Target disabled, Ma’am,” Francis reported crisply.
Sydney stared at the wreckage, briefly having trouble believing that the fight was ended so abruptly. She then drew a quick breath as she remembered that the war might be ended, but the battle was not — there was still a hostage aboard Vattermann’s ship.
“Mr. Garvey,” she called out, “dispatch a boarding party on the double, please. Not only do I want prisoners from that vessel, we have civilian to retrieve.”
“They’re on their way,” the XO reported, punching the “go” command into his tablet then nodding as confirmation appeared there a few seconds later. “The civilian is their top priority. By the way, Ma’am, engineering reports that our brig was damaged during the fight. Lading any prisoners is going to be a problem.”
The captain turned to regard her first officer across the bridge. “I believe keeping them boxed in their own ship will suffice for the moment, XO. My main concern right now is the hostage — and that person will be afforded a far better accommodation than our brig would offer.”
6
Chaos had become a living, breathing, member of Hans Vattermann’s crew ... along with fear and panic, two things pirates were far more used to inflicting than experiencing. There was no light to be had — even emergency lighting had succumbed to the plasma’s EM pulses — and air was no longer circulating through the Hans Vattermann I’s s
ystems.
Those ailments took second place, though, to the lack of gravity. Neither Vattermann himself, nor any of his crew, worked well in zero-G.
“Sweinhund! Get those engines back on line!” Exactly whom Vattermann was screaming at was unclear, given the inky blackness and the fact that no person on the bridge could repair engines that were located at the far end of the ship. Or at least, had been located at the far end of the ship.
“Kommandant,” Holzig reported, trying to maintain a soothing tone despite the uproar around him, “the engines are not just off line, sir. They are gone. Destroyed.”
“Idiot,” Vattermann responded. “Sheistkopf! What you say is impossible. There has to be one engine left, at least, so we can move away from this —”
The Kommandant’s ranting was cut off by an explosion. Every person on the bridge felt a moment of exultation as light began to filter back into the bridge, exultation that was quickly quashed as it became apparent the light was borne by the squad of TSM marines that had just disintegrated the control cabin’s rear bulkhead.
“Hands on your heads,” a voice rang out from one of the half-dozen armored figures. The six of them clomped forward, guns raised, magnetized boots compensating for the lack of gravity that continued to hobble the actions of Vattermann’s crew.
“Nein!” Vattermann attempted to leap toward the invaders, drawing a sidearm from his belt as he did so. Unsecured by gravity, though, the leap turned into a spinning launch, which was summarily halted by a marine through the simple application of a rifle butt to Vattermann’s head as he soared into range.
“Anyone else?” The remaining crew took the marine’s question far more to heart than they had a moment before; hands went to heads, causing most to float free of whatever they had been gripping. The pirates’ discomfiture did not bother their captors in the slightest.
Save in one aspect. “Where is the civilian female,” Lieutenant Briscoe asked, the question directed at everyone present.
“Who?”
“He must mean the Kommandant’s slut,” Schultz retorted. “What is it to you?”
The lieutenant moved close to Vattermann’s former flag captain, snugging the business end of his rifle neatly under the man’s chin. “Just say that I’ve got a reason. Where?”
Shultz swallowed hard but fell silent. Holzig, on the other hand, cleared his throat and said, in an eminently reasonable tone, “I believe the lady is in the Kommandant’s quarters.”
Briscoe was silent a moment, then pulled his rifle back to a slightly less threatening carry. “Saans, Gonzales,” the lieutenant snapped; the two marines immediately clomped off in search of their prize.
Those marines remaining on the bridge went about securing their captives, not only strapping their hands but also securing them to whatever seat happened to be close. Having prisoners floating around made for a most untidy venue, after all. Vattermann was trussed hand and foot and strapped to a sturdy conduit, not far from the melted hole that served as point of entry for the TSM commandos.
The situation was well in hand when Saans and Gonzales clomped back onto the bridge, Krista Sperry floating between them.
“Package acquired, Lieutenant,” Saans reported.
“So I see, Sergeant,” Briscoe replied, eyeing Krista’s yellow-and-purple cheek and her slutty garb. “Please escort our guest —”
“Could I have just a moment, first?”
The lieutenant cut off, a bit surprised by the request. “Ma’am?”
Krista’s face gained a look of hatred. “I’d just like a second to give ... Hans,” her voice growled as she said the name, “a goodbye present. One I’ve been wanting to give him for several years now.”
“Er....” Briscoe considered a moment. “All right. Gonzales, keep a hand on her, so she doesn’t, ah, float off.”
Saans released Krista to Gonzales’ control. Krista indicated that she wanted to move directly in front of the Kommandant.
“So long, Hans,” she growled when Gonzales had her in place. “This is to remember me by.”
She spat a huge gob of saliva in the unconscious pirate’s face.
The compartment fell silent for a long moment. Finally Briscoe, his lips twitching in an effort not to smile, said, “Very well, then. As I was saying, Gonzales, please escort our guest to the transport.”
“Yes, sir,” Gonzales replied, her lowly rank of private allowing her the shit-eating grin that her commanding officer had denied himself. As she headed for their transport, Krista floating in tow, Briscoe cleared his throat lightly.
“Right.” In spite of himself, the lieutenant stared after the departing pair for a moment before continuing. “Come on, gentlemen, let’s get on with cleaning house.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
1
“Marines reporting package acquired, Captain.”
Sydney looked up from her terminal to find Garvey at her office door. “Thanks, XO. The rest of their operation went well, I imagine?”
The first officer nodded, consulting his tablet. “Lieutenant Briscoe reports all hostiles subdued and vessel secured, with no casualties on either side. He did note that Vattermann managed to run into the butt end of a rifle in the confusion, and may have sustained a broken jaw in the encounter.”
The captain’s eyes sparkled for a moment and she leaned back in her chair, a look of amusement on her face. “I see,” she said after a moment of thought. “Did the lieutenant indicate whether Vattermann or the rifle initiated the contact?”
Garvey again consulted his tablet. “Ah ... apparently the rifle was applied as a means of ending the man’s uncontrolled, zero-G, flight.”
Sydney chuckled. “I do love marine-speak. He lunged at them. How typical.”
“Apparently so.”
“Captain,” came Rieger’s voice over Sydney’s comm, “I have two incoming contacts for you. Shades of Glory requests that you call at your earliest convenience. I also have a Patrick O’Shaugnassey holding. He says that he doesn’t want to trouble you — at least, I think that’s what he was saying; his accent is a bit thick — but that he would appreciate a moment, if you can spare one.”
Sydney glanced at her XO. “Huh,” she said. “What do you know about that?”
“He’s either the most polite pirate I’ve ever heard of,” Garvey commented drolly, “or he’s trying to kiss and make up now that he sees who’s holding all the cards. I’ll leave you to deal with that, Ma’am, if you don’t mind….”
The captain nodded, then waited for Garvey to leave before touching the comm link. “Put Mr. O’Shaugnassey through, if you please, Mr. Rieger,” she ordered. “Then notify Shades of Glory that I’ll give them a full status briefing in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Rieger replied. “O’Shaugnassey to your terminal ... now.”
Her terminal lit up as promised, showing Patrick O’Shaugnassey seated in a ship’s command chair. The Irish pirate broke into a smile as Sydney’s image obviously appeared on his own screen.
“Captain! Thank you for takin’ my call,” he said, and Sydney was surprised at how humble the man sounded. “I know that we’ve not yet been introduced, but —”
“Mr. O’Shaugnassey,” Sydney interrupted, “I am a bit pressed for time at the moment. You should know up front, though, that I am taking your call for two reasons. First, the fact that your actions during the melee we have just endured quite likely turned the tide in our favor — and actions speak a lot louder than words, in my book. Second, I am informed by Chloe O’Shaugnassey that you are a good man.” She paused for a moment but held eye contact. “While I take that assessment under advisement, I am willing to go with it for the present.”
O’Shaugnassey’s eyes glinted even over the comm link. “Aye. So you’re knowin’ my niece.”
“I have had the pleasure of meeting your niece,” Sydney acknowledged, “and gotten to know her well enough to hold her opinion in some regard.” She paused. “That said, it will take a b
it of negotiating before you and I are entirely on the same page. Now ... why is it that you’ve contacted me?”
The pirate seemed a bit non-plussed at Sydney’s words. “I — ah, well, you see, this workin’ hand-in-glove with the powers-that-be is a wee bit new to me,” he said. Sydney was finding it slightly easier to wade through his accent than Chloe’s, though she suspected it would be just as difficult if he were to become excited.
“Get used to it,” she commented when he paused. “TSM — and specifically, the Cahan Morrigan — is here to stay. Now what can I do for you?”
“’Tis more what I can be doin’ for you,” O’Shaugnassey allowed, finally smiling a bit. “You see, we’ve sort of been ... actin’ on behalf of the TSM, we have. We’ve, ah, captured us a pirate ship as was tryin’ to raid Outpost Station.”
Sydney took a moment to register that. “You have actually captured and boarded one of Vattermann’s craft?”
“Aye,” he replied, looking a bit sheepish. “But, you see, that monster of a ship that’s just arrived is goin’ about, securin’ everything, and what with my reputation preceedin’ me, so to speak, I didn’t want to be misunderstood in my motives.” His eyes hardened before he continued. “What Vattermann planned to do with the station was no plan of mine. My only thought is for my folk back home on Aerieland.”
“Ah...” Sydney again had to wade through the brogue. “Yes. That is what your niece has told me — and if that truly is the case, Mr. O’Shaugnassey, I have a take-it-or-leave-it offer for you. You have until the end of this conversation to accept the terms of this offer.”
O’Shaugnassey looked stunned. “Terms?”
Sydney Chambers Page 25
