The Privateer 2: AN HONEST LIVING

by Zellmann, William

And crossbows can be very effective weapons. The prespace leader Napoleon ordered that any Englishman caught with a crossbow was to be summarily executed. It seems his troops were being terrorized by English crossbowmen who crept up on the French camps at night, and killed men sitting at their campfires without warning. Crossbows are nearly silent, and can be very deadly.

  Tonio was well aware of all this, of course. He found a man who made custom crossbows and challenged him to help him design a thoroughly modern combat crossbow.

  The man had produced two separate designs, though both looked nearly identical. Both weapons he showed them bore little resemblance to the cumbersome, cross-shaped weapons in the holos Tonio had shown them. Instead, they looked like an odd sporting rifle stock without a barrel. The stocks were of a lightweight plas commonly used in sporting rifle firearms, and the forearm areas were much higher. A selection of short, stubby arrows lay near them.

  Zant picked up one of the weapons. It was surprisingly heavy, and he said so. The maker nodded. "It weighs just over eight pounds fully loaded, as this one is.

  "They both operate on compressed air, though in different ways. There is a small compressor and a power cell in the buttstock.

  "In this one, there is a coil spring beneath the arrow bed. It is in a sealed air chamber, and has a piston on the front, part of which protrudes to receive the bolt. To cock it for use, you merely press this button . . ." He did, and the bolt receiver he had just indicated slid smoothly the length of the forearm in less than a second. A slight click barely preceded an audible hiss, and told them it was latched to the trigger, and the pressure that had compressed the spring had been released. A bolt rose from beneath, and rested against the bolt receiver. "It's cocked by air pressure," he explained. "As the air is vented, it raises the bolt into position. It's fast and nearly silent."

  The man lifted the crossbow to his shoulder, aimed at the farther mannequin, and released. While the bolt was still in the air, he cycled the action and another bolt rose into position. He fired again, just before the first bolt reached the mannequin. There was no explosion this time; these bolts weren't explosive. Even at fifty meters they could see that the bolt did not bounce off the body armor; it remained in the figure's chest. The second hit within a few centimeters, and a third, fourth and fifth quickly followed.

  "The magazine holds five bolts," the man explained. "Of course, if necessary, it can be used as a single-shot, loading each bolt by hand; but that's just not elegant!"

  Tonio smiled. "Of course, even as a single-shot, it can be loaded nearly as fast as the man can handle the bolt. Probably faster than a longbow."

  The man nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes. But still . . ." He put the weapon aside, and picked up the other one.

  "This one is also pneumatic, but it uses high-pressure air to launch the bolts, instead of a spring. The air pressures involved are much higher, of course. This leads to a possibility of explosion if the reservoir is hit by a laser."

  Cale's eyebrows rose. "Just how high are those pressures?"

  The man shrugged. "It's adjustable, of course. I have it set at maximum, which is about 3000 pounds per square inch. That gives a 400 grain bolt a velocity of about 180 meters per second, compared to an average longbow's velocity of about 120 meters per second for the same projectile weight.

  "Essentially, it's a modified air-powered rifle. Since Jumbo doesn't have heavy metals like lead, typical pellet projectiles would impractical. Copper could be used, but would not be very satisfactory. By redesigning it to fire crossbow bolts, it can use common ammunition, and use it effectively.

  "The hardest part of the design, of course, was muffling the air discharge after the shot, while I tap off a bit of the air to reset the cylinder. I think I've reduced it to an acceptable level, but with more time I could probably improve it."

  The only sound as the man fired the first round was the muffled whoosh of the bolt leaving the weapon. A faint chuff! could be heard as the bolt rest slid smoothly back into position and the next bolt rose, but Cale felt it would probably be undetectable if he hadn't been listening for it. Reloading and resetting took less than three seconds.

  Again, all five bolts appeared to have stuck in the body armor.

  "The big advantage of these designs," Tonio explained as they walked downrange to the target, "Is that the weapon can be operated while prone. The shooter doesn't have to expose himself to reload or recock his weapon."

  Two of the bolts in each pattern on the target were ineffective. The ceramic broadhead points had simply shattered on the armor, the bolts hanging up in the covering material.

  Of those that penetrated, it was obvious that the amount of penetration varied considerably, although it was obvious that the pure pneumatic was much more powerful than the spring crossbow.

  "I expected as much," the crossbow builder commented. "Ceramic broadheads are excellent against flesh and even bone; but armor . . ." He shook his head. "That's why I brought these others," he continued. Those showing the least effect had penetrated about ten cems from the pneumatic, and five from the spring crossbow. The man had a surprising difficulty pulling them out of the target. The tips had flattened on the armor, and had mushroomed. "These were standard practice arrows. I was not expecting this result from them. This may mean even practice bolts could be effective. I'll have to think about this."

  The next deepest were about an 3 cems deeper than the practice bolts. "As I thought," he said when he had retrieved them all. "I machined these out of hardened alloy, in an attempt to make them armor-piercing. They're still shaped like the practice tips."

  The last style had also been machined by the maker from hardened alloy, and, from the pneumatic, had penetrated the width of the mannequin's body. These were in the shape of a long, four-sided cone, slightly larger than the diameter of the bolt's shaft at the large end. None of the bolts penetrated both sides of the armor, of course.

  Tonio was excited. "They're not lasers or blasters," he said, "But they're effective against standard body armor of the type Ochoa-Mariden's men are using, and we don't have to spend three months training the soldiers to use them!"

  Zant was more doubtful. "I dunno, Tonio. I see your point," he said, "but besides their weapons and bolts, now these guys are going to have to truck around power cells, as well. I've been in combat, and I know every gram counts. And what happens when a cell goes dead in the middle of a fight?"

  Tonio frowned. "I understand your concerns, Zant, but these aren't lasers or blasters, that go through a power pack in only a dozen or so shots. All they power is one small compressor. I expect they will last a crossbowman with the full pneumatic about two weeks, and the spring bow a little longer, perhaps a month. At most, a man might want to carry one spare. When a cell begins to drain too far, an indicator on the crossbow will warn the shooter that it's time to replace it. And they can be swapped in seconds."

  He shrugged. "I'm sorry, Zant, but I think this is the best we're going to do to put an armor-piercing weapon in the hands of a poorly-trained peasant conscript."

  By the time Tor-Jen arrived with the Din-class, the others had a nearly full cargo waiting for him, and Colonies, Inc. was out of business. The company's assets had been sold or auctioned off, and Cale was privately trying to figure out how he could produce and cash in some of the diamonds concealed aboard Cheetah without arousing suspicion.

  The bag of diamonds was Cale's only remaining tie to his previous pirate life. When he had fled the pirate fleet for an unknown future, he'd taken only the yacht Azure Sky and a small bag containing the largest collection of sunstones in man-settled space. Sunstones were the rarest, most valuable gems in the known universe. During his escape, he'd converted some of the sunstones into 50,000 carats of flawless white diamonds.

  Two thousand carats had been enough to obtain the help of an entire work crew from Vishnu to help turn the contents of his orbital scrapyard into something resembling a space fleet during the Junkyard War. He'd been reimburse
d by the government of Ilocan, but Cale had already dug into that. The bag containing the remaining 48,000 carats was concealed with Cord's jewelry aboard Cheetah, a constant drag on Cale's conscience. He'd donated the remaining sunstones, but only he and Tess knew about the diamonds. He'd been tempted to donate them as well, but in the end, he'd given Tess instructions to give them to Dee if something happened to him.

  He and Dee were arguing about whether to begin the process of cashing in Dee's letter of credit from her father when Tor-Jen's arrival stopped the arguments and the shopping spree.

  Everyone breathed a large sigh of relief as Cheetah and the unnamed Din-class lifted off for Jumbo.

  "Say goodbye to Santiago for the last time," Cale said. "The people may not recognize our names, but they're certainly well known to the military – and by the time we could get back, the election will be over."

  Tonio nodded. "I agree. It's probably a good thing you liquidated all your holdings on Santiago." He said. "Without the protection of the Presidente, I suspect you would regret returning there."

  Dee looked surprised. "What do you mean? The war is over, and Santiago is a civilized planet."

  Tonio shrugged. "That is true, of course. I am certain there would be no official action. But I doubt any permits or licenses would be available to you, and I suspect that you would find problems and complications in anything you tried to do." He sighed. "And there are rumors that the opposition party, which will be the ruling party, is not above hiring street toughs to beat up opponents and destroy their property." He waved vaguely. "I would guess that your armed vessels would be seized and you arrested, despite the fact that granting permits and simply sealing weapons is routine. No, when this is over, I would return to Ilocan if I were you."

  Cale shrugged. "Actually, we discussed this when we were deciding to sell the shop. We decided we might stop at Ilocan, at least temporarily, but we'll probably be heading for a planet where we can set up shop again. There's no shortage of troubled planets." He exchanged significant glances with Zant. "But I think we'd better stick to uninhabited planets to settle for a while. Maybe a planet that had to be abandoned in the last stages of terraforming."

  Zant nodded emphatically and grunted in agreement. "In the meantime, though," he replied, "we'd be better occupied discussing strategy and tactics for defeating the General. Tonio, here, has come up with some great toys. But we have to get them to the planet to use them."

  Cale scowled. "You're right, of course. He has that armed Din-class, and an entire space station. He could even have that thing fortified by now. He's certain to detect our emergence into the system, and he'll have almost a week to get ready for us."

  "Yeah," Zant agreed sourly. Then he brightened. "He'll know we're coming, but if we play it smart, he won't know what's coming!

  "Look," he continued, "Suppose we come through together, Cheetah and the Din-class, synchronized. All his people will detect is one emergence. We can't drive in at lightspeed, so there's no way to avoid detection. So, there's no hurry. You and Tor-Jen just travel close together, so you're only one image on their scopes." He shrugged. "That means you'll have to slow down to match a Din-class's pace. Of course, your blip won't match a Din-class, and it won't match anything else, either. They'll go nuts trying to figure out what you are.

  "In the meantime, as soon as we emerge, I'll launch the Strengl and boost max onto a cometary orbit. They're ground-pounders. I'd bet that in the excitement when they're reporting our emergence to the General, no one will notice a stray dot on their scope. Once I’m in the groove, I'll shut down to minimum life support. I'll just look like a stray asteroid."

  Cale started to interrupt, but Zant bulled on. "They won't be in a hurry. They'll know they have almost a week to get ready for you. Ochoa-Mariden might send a laser or something up to the station, if he has one to spare, but he'll probably just spend most of that time cursing and yelling at you. If you play it right, he'll be so mad he'll never even think someone might be sneaking up on him.

  "Then, at a prearranged signal, I'll boost max for that Din-class, and go for her engines and weapons. If I remember right, the weapons are pretty much standard for a Din-class, and he won't have modified them. He's a ground general on a primitive planet; he's not expecting action in space. I doubt he's even armed that station, but as soon as I shoot up his ship, I'll go for the station and make sure."

  Cale was getting excited. "Yeah!" he exclaimed. "And if Cheetah boosts max for the station at the signal, we'll be able to back you up and protect Tor-Jen if the station is armed. I like it!" Suddenly he sobered. "Zant, you're talking about sitting around in an almost-dead ship for almost a week. Are you sure you'll be able to handle that?"

  Zant waved a dismissing hand. "I've spent longer than that in a hunting blind on Selfa. Morf-cats are smart; you have to be patient to get one." He grinned. "I'm patient. I'll manage."

  They pored over the charts of the Jumbo system. During the jumps, they brainstormed and refined the plan. While traversing the recal systems, they talked their ideas over with Tor-Jen, and listened to his brainstorms. Finally, though, they approached the last jump point before Jumbo. Despite the misgivings of the Din-class's astrogator, Tess interfaced with the Din-class's astrogation comp, and slaved it to her own, much more capable brain. Zant transferred from Cheetah to the unnamed Din-class, which carried his Strengl.

  Typically, ships traveling in company knew that the vagaries of jump meant that they might arrive hours or even days apart, despite their best attempts to jump simultaneously. Slaving astrogation comps for simultaneous emergence was a military tactic. Few civilian ships would attempt it; there was always the theoretical possibility of two vessels emerging simultaneously into the same space with catastrophic results. But Cheetah was not a normal civilian ship, and Tess was not a normal AI. They jumped.

  As soon as they emerged, Tess scanned for the Din-class. And found it, some 20 miles off her port beam. As soon as both ships' normal-space engines spun up, they boosted for the distant planet.

  After a few more minutes, a small splinter emerged from the side of the Din-class, and suddenly flared into an enormous burst of acceleration. Tess had carefully computed the cometary ballistic orbit Zant was to follow. With nearly all his navigation equipment shut down, Tess knew Zant was totally dependent on her abilities; but she never hesitated.

  After a surprisingly short few minutes, the splinter suddenly disappeared, leaving only the inert blip of a comet or asteroid.

  Meanwhile, Cheetah and the nameless Din-class traveled more sedately across the system.

  They had been traveling for more than two days when the first transmission was received.

  "This system is closed. It is not available for trade. Colonization is in progress. All traffic is directed to reverse course and return to the jump point. Failure to comply with these instructions will be considered a hostile act."

  The transmission repeated mechanically, obviously looped for continuous play.

  As they continued inward, the lightspeed lag became shorter. It was only the next day that they received the next message. This one was not looped. It was human-generated, probably about fifteen hours before.

  "Unknown ship: You have failed to respond to instructions from system Traffic Control, and you show no identification beacon. These are hostile acts, and you are notified that you are considered pirates, and may be fired upon and destroyed without warning. This is your final warning."

  The message was repeated only once.

  They continued inward.

  The lightspeed lag was down to less than five minutes when another image formed in Cheetah's viewscreen. This time, it was General Ochoa-Mariden himself, in full military dress, complete with medals.

  "Go away, whoever you are," he said gruffly. "You're only one ship. I don't know what you think you're doing, but if you don't reverse course immediately, we're going to destroy you." He clicked off.

  When the light-lag was down to two minut
es, Cale took his place in front of the viewscreen, in his hand the button that would transmit the 'go' signal to Zant.

  The General was angry this time. The interloper was only two light-minutes away, and he still had no idea who or what they were. He began by telling them that an armed vessel had been dispatched to destroy them. He began to go into details when the lightspeed-lag caught up, and he saw Cale.

  His threats continued for another few seconds before he suddenly stopped and roared. "You! You have no business here! Your contract was completed. Now you're just another pirate!"

  Cale smiled and began talking, despite the fact that Ochoa-Mariden was still speaking. It would be more than a minute before the General heard him.

  "We have urgent business with the colony Council," he said. "It appears that their group may have been infiltrated by a group of war criminals. Why am I talking to you? Where is Administrator Belen?"

  He waited patiently, ignoring the General's continued bluster, until he could see that the man had received his message. Fury darkened his face, but Ochoa-Mariden forced himself under control.

  "Belen was killed in a nomad attack," the General said. "The Council was left in disarray, and I was forced to assume leadership of the colony and establish martial law." A hint of satisfaction flitted across his face. "And under martial law, I have the authority to order your execution. I will do so unless you immediately reverse course and leave Jumbo space. You know that we have an armed spacecraft. I have just ordered that vessel to attack and destroy you if you do not begin to reverse course in two minutes." The General turned as someone off-camera attracted his attention. "Yes," he said irritably, "what is it? . . . Two ships?" He turned back to the screen, but only glared before terminating the call. Cale mashed the button that would send Zant after the General's Din-class and Tess after the space station at max boost.

  The splinter of light that was Zant suddenly flashed toward the larger blip that was the colony Din-class. Meanwhile, the space station suddenly swelled in the viewscreen from a tiny dot to a discrete circle. Cale triggered a burst from Cheetah's quickfirer, knowing it would be seen on the space station's scopes.