Half a minute passed while the crystal was booting itself up—or whatever it was that Core Fragments did when they’d just had a power interruption—and then his droid eye started randomly moving on his own.
“Ack,” he said, staggering and almost losing his balance. He slapped his multi-tool hand up over his new, red eye until the whole thing was occluded and he stopped seeing random images around the room.
“You may remove the clamp,” instructed the Fragment.
“Right,” Spalding said, his good arm still wheeling for balance. A second later he repeated, “Right,” and hurried over to unclamp the clamp. He was almost out the room with the cord before he was halted.
“We see that you have received upgrades,” stated the Fragment.
“Don’t be messin’ with me eye,” Spalding growled at it, still covering the mechanical eye. “And I’d hardly call the factory defective parts they saddled with me an upgrade!”
“End of line,” replied the Fragment.
Cursing under his breath, the old Engineer realized that he was going to have to perform a complete wipe and reinstall of all his Droid software. If the Fragment could remote hack his eye, then he’d have to remember to shut it down the next time he came to visit. Then he paused, wondering how was he going to shut down his eye, both legs, both arms, and still expect to visit in the future? He was going to have to think on that one.
Chapter 90: On the Flag Bridge
“Too close to run and nowhere to turn to, Nephew,” Jean Luc smiled savagely, “I have you now.”
“The Modified Cruiser is still difficult to get a sensor lock on, but at these ranges not impossible,” reported the Sensor Officer. “It won’t get here in time.”
“Excellent news,” Jean Luc said as he looked over and smiled down at the gut-shot Senior Lieutenant at the foot of his Throne. Others had tried to come and drag him away, but he wouldn’t let them—everyone needed to see the wages of betrayal. A slow, agonizing death was an ideal way of driving home his point.
“Sir, a third of the Bug boarding force has broken off from the Main Swarm and is headed this way,” reported Tactical, “they’re ten minutes out, Sir!”
“Instruct the point defense turrets to restrict their targets to the Bug boarders and commence firing as soon as they have targets,” Jean Luc ordered, and then as an afterthought added, “and someone inform Lieutenant Colonel Riggs and that one-eyed barbarian in charge of the new Tracto-an recruits that they are to send a battalion out onto the hull to repel boarders.”
“That will only leave us with a few companies on the interior of the ship,” the Tactical Officer pointed out.
“My orders stand,” Jean Luc said flatly.
“Your will be done, Commodore,” the Tactical Officer replied, his response more appropriate for a retainer speaking to royalty than one good and steady parliamentarian speaking to another.
Jean Luc suppressed a smile and let the little faux pas go without comment.
“Death is too good for you, Nephew,” Jean Luc whispered, his ship now ready to crush all opposition, “and who knows? After I break your mind to my will, perhaps I might even consider again offering you a place by my side…after an extended period of suffering of course—one appropriate to all the trouble you’ve caused.”
“One minute to contact with the Prince” sounded off the Tactical Officer, “Bug boarders are still five minutes out.”
“Tell Gunnery we’re going to pass them on the port side,” Jean Luc ordered, his single, visible eye glinting while his eye patched one added that bit of piratical dash to his demeanor.
“Message relayed, Sir,” the Officer reported after speaking over the microphone down to Tactical.
“Sir!” exclaimed a crewwoman in the Comm. Section with alarm, “I’m getting a series of bogus file headings over here in on my Sig-Int console. It reads as a virus, Sir,” she frowned down at her console before looking back up at him. “Sir, we’re being hacked!”
“Every department is to initiate anti-viral protocols,” Jean Luc ordered instantly, “and prepare to boot back up from secondary system.”
“In the middle of a battle, Commodore?” the Tactical Officer said with disbelief.
Jean Luc opened his mouth and the lights went dead.
“No!” he yelled, glaring up at the darkened ceiling of the Bridge, “get us back online now; we have a battle to fight!”
Several long seconds passed. “My console’s not responding,” called the com-tech at Signals Intelligence.
“I’m getting reports from Damage Control parties around the ship, via their hand held units; this blackout’s global, Commodore,” reported the Damage Control watch stander.
“This can’t be happening; the Armor Prince is right on top of us,” cried a random bridge stander that Jean Luc didn’t recognize by voice alone.
“Well played, Nephew,” Jean Luc said, admiration temporarily forcing down rage at what looked likely to be his imminent defeat.
Unhurriedly, the former Pirate King stood up and grabbed his still-sheathed vibro-weapon and headed for the Admiral’s ready room. Unlike the blast doors, a single man could manually open the ready room door, and inside the Admiral’s quarters was an escape hatch leading to the shuttle bay. He could still get off this ship and potentially have one of his subordinate pirate ships—assuming any survived—come and pick him up.
If the power didn’t come back up before the Armor Prince made its next firing pass, it wouldn’t matter. Their engines would have been gutted, and it would just be countdown to destruction. Either way, opening that ready room door didn’t hurt their chances, and potentially saved his life.
Chapter 91: The Perfect Opportunity
“Keep an eye on those Bugs, Tactical, and if they get close tell gunnery to turn the point defense on them,” ordered Captain Laurent.
“Tell the marines we’re going to need both companies standing by to repel boarders,” I ordered the com-tech. “I want the Lancers standing by for internal defense or to reinforce the hull.”
“We can deal with a Bug boarding force, assuming they survive long enough to get here with both our ships and the pirates, tearing into their numbers,” Laurent advised me, “but the Lucky Clover’s going to be a tougher nut to crack.”
“It’s not over ‘til it’s over,” I said, not liking the way our heavily damaged Battleship stacked up against their only moderately damaged ship. “We’ve pulled through tougher situations than this before and we can do it again,” I said, projecting all the false confidence I could. I knew the odds, Laurent knew the odds, and everyone else on the bridge likely knew the odds, but we’d been staring long odds in the face for over a year now. Adversity was nothing to this crew and it was my job to project that can do attitude they were going to need in the less than a minute.
“Targets locked and acquired,” reported Tactical, “they’re going to know they’re in one heck of a fight.”
“Slow us down as much as you can DuPont,” I instructed, “there’s no point in needless maneuvering at this point. They’ve got the speed on us, hands down; our best bet is to slug it out until they break.”
“Yes, Admiral,” DuPont replied, his voice unwavering.
At that moment, looking out on my bridge crew, I was as proud as I had ever been of them and what we’d accomplished together.
“When future generations look back on this day, they will remember us with awe,” I lied, feeling choked up with emotion. Such generations would only feel awe if the truth was reported, but as the victors write and rewrite history to suit themselves, I was pretty sure we’d only ever be remembered the Tyrant of Cold Space and his evil posse of mutinous cowards. After all, it just wouldn’t do to let the truth get out. “They will look back at us and hold their honor cheap when asked if they were there for the Battle of—” I was interrupted by yet another stir in the Sensor pit. I frowned, but forced myself to ignore it and continue on, “for the Battle of—”
�
�Admiral!” exclaimed the Sensor Officer.
“Yes, what is it?” I asked irritably; the man was ruining my final speech. The very last one I was ever likely to give unless by some miracle I survived, was captured, and put back up on trial—sans plastic ball-gag, naturally.
“It’s the Clover, Sir. She’s…she just…that is…” he stuttered all over himself.
“Spit it out, man,” I grumped. There was still enough time to finish my speech, and I had so wanted to rename this battle before we came to grips with Jean Luc again—I wouldn’t have time to do it later!
“She just lost power, Sir,” the Sensor Officer shrieked with joy, “she’s dead in cold space!”
I blinked in confusion. I must have been too busy speechifying and missed it; Spalding had managed to eject the fusion cores, after all! He’d done it, we were saved…unless he had only gotten to a couple and Jean Luc managed to recover enough to present a defense.
My head snapped around. “Full power to the turbo-lasers,” I shouted, jumping out of my chair. “Cripple her engines, Mr. Eastwood, and prepare a boarding party.”
“Yes, Sir,” Eastwood said with more feeling in his voice than I’d ever heard.
“And if her power just so happens to come back on, then Sweet Murphy, give her what for,” I cried, running into my ready room where I usually keep my power armor. I skidded to a halt inside the empty room, remembering that the Armsmaster had stolen my battle-suit and never returned it. I gritted my teeth and ran back out into the bridge.
I don’t care if I look like two kinds of fools, I told myself as I headed for the blast doors. This was our chance, and if I had to go over there in a shuttle and skin suit, then that’s what I was going to do! “Just remember,” I shouted as I ran to the lift, “Spalding’s on that ship!”
Behind me, I heard a cheer as our weapons started punishing the drifting, unresponsive Lucky Clover.
It was time to finish this. It was time to put an end to my nemesis one and for all.
“You’re with me,” I informed the Lancers standing guard outside the blast doors, and we set off at a dead run.
Chapter 92: A little Marital Support
“My Lady,” Isis exclaimed from where she was currently monitoring the sensor section, “the enemy continues to float dead in space.”
“We shall cleave her in two,” Akantha said, looking up to the main screen to see that the Lucky Clover was indeed no longer operating under her own power, and a savage smile crossed her face.
One enemy battleship destroyed by the immobilized Sky Demons, and another one knocked out by her Protector; today had started out terrible, but serendipity had turned her shining face on them at last. After they finished dealing with the Lucky Clover, they would turn their attention to the Bugs. Her weaponeers informed her that they had the range to just stand back and fire their turbo-lasers at the Bug Demons, and all they could do was fire a few of what they called ‘dumb’ missiles in response. Victory was within their grasp!
“Wait, Mistress,” Isis said sounding concerned, “our sensors just refined the readings. It looks like the Bugs boarders have started landing on the hull of the Lucky Clover.”
“That is none of our concern,” Akantha said shortly, “we shall immolate them with our heavy lasers as we make a firing pass if Jason does not do so first.”
“Mistress, the Sundered are offering to break off their attack runs on the last few Bug scouts,” the com-tech chimed in, “Pride of Prometheus reports that they have dealt with the last of the Harvesters, despite taking heavy damage, and all that remains are a few random Scouts. The pirates are regrouping around planetary body Modett after tangling with a few Harvesters of their own, but they are reduced to Corvettes and a pair of damaged Destroyers which show no signs of budging.”
“Your report is well received,” Akantha replied, turning back to the real prey, the enemy controlled battleships.
“Mistress,” Isis exclaimed with surprise.
“What?” Akantha demanded.
“Multiple shuttles are departing the Armor Prince,” the other Tracto-an woman reported with rising excitement, “I’m reading multiple power-armored figures holding onto the hull of the shuttles, and more following behind on full body gravity boards!”
Akantha started in surprise and then slowly a smile grew across her face until she was smiling ear to ear.
“At last we have had enough of this hiding behind fortress bulkheads,” she said exultantly, “finally, a part of this battle we can actually sink our swords into!”
“My Lady,” Gants exclaimed sounding worried, “you don’t actually intend to join the boarding parties…personally, do you?”
“But of course,” Akantha replied, easily drawing out her Bandersnatch with a flourish, “the Phoenix has not acquitted herself as well as I had hoped in this long range battle of citadels, but we shall reclaim our honor by revealing the innards of our foes. At last, vengeance shall be mine!”
“But Lady Akantha…” Gants said with despair.
“I will hear no more on this matter,” Akantha said with a chopping motion, and thanks to the time spent going to and from Capria, Gants fell silent. However, the dejected look on his face made her feel the faintest stirrings of pity.
“Hold Mistress,” said the com-tech, “we’re getting a signal from the lead shuttle; it’s the Admiral, Ma’am. He’s ordering the other shuttles to disperse on approach, just in case the Battleship regains power.”
Looking between Gants and the Com-Tech she had an idea, “Perhaps we can kill three birds with one stone, and provide my Protector with a happy little reunion,” Akantha said happily.
“My Lady,” Gants said looking alarmed.
“Mr. Gants, please extend my invitation to our ‘special guests’,” she said with a grin, “and see if either of them care to join us on a little shuttle ride over to the Lucky Clover to meet with Jason—and spill some blood.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Gants said shaking his head in negation, clearly he think it was not very wise.
“They can always refuse,” Akantha thought with real pleasure, while she ignored the little Caprian man’s look. As an added bonus, if they refused her offer they would be revealed for the cowards they really were.
“The Admiral’s not going to like this,” Gants said with total certainty in his voice, “not one bit.”
Akantha shrugged. He could tell her that in person; she had no interest in listening to his whining by proxy.
Chapter 93: The Privilege of Rank
It took longer than he had expected to break into, and then out of, the Admiral’s ready room and Jean Luc blamed this primarily of having to work in the dark until he was able to secure a reliable light source.
Taking the service corridors, he avoided the worst of the panic but had still been forced to gut a pair of hysterical, screaming crewwomen while he was opening a rather large blast door open by himself.
It had been a mercy, actually, to put the women out of their misery, he thought to himself grimly.
A short time later he had lucked out by encountering a Quad of Marines, and after manually opening the blast doors, his progress had sped back up to acceptable levels. He viewed it as karma, the way the universe had of saying ‘thank you’ for helping those poor, hysterical young women, and he was more than willing to accept the universe’s help in the spirit in which it was received.
“The shuttle bay is just up here, through this last set of blast doors, Commodore,” the Marines informed him.
“Thank you, men,” Jean Luc said, pulling up the hood of the pirate outfit he had chanced back into while he was in the ready room. He activated the seals first his boots and ankles first, and then those of his hands and gloves before finally adjusting the seals on his face mask. “Remember, men, as long as the Clover’s power dead we’re more helpless than a Putorian Slug-grub; make sure I can get to the Commodore’s Cutter and don’t let anything stop us. As soon as I clear the hull, I’ll
be able to rally the fleet.”
“Aye, aye, Commodore,” the Corporal in nominal command of the Quad said, demonstrating equal parts terror, and belief in his commanding officer to get them out of this in one piece.
Just then, the hall they were in decompressed.
“Guards to defensive positions,” the Pirate Lord snapped, causing the Quad to swivel around facing every direction, scanning for attackers with blaster rifles at the ready.
Seconds later, a group of at least a dozen of the primitive soldier Bugs came swarming down the hull.
“Bugs,” screamed one of the Marines, cutting loose with his blaster rifle, and he was quickly followed by the rest of the Quad.
“Blast,” Jean Luc cursed, realizing the Bugs were already inside. He had hoped to abandon the ship before they got here. He could only hope they hadn’t made their way into the shuttle bay and wrecked anything inside.
Half a minute later, Bug guts covered the walls and ceiling, while the corpses of fourteen of the ineffective, crab-like soldier Bugs lay strewn on the floor.
“We have to get inside that shuttle bay, now,” Jean Luc put the crack of command in his voice. The Cutter was fast and designed for stealth, while the Prince on the other hand was never fast to begin with and now had severe damage to its engines. If he could get outside the dying Battleship, he could just drift away until he was far enough to light his engines to make good on his escape, “There’s no time for delay.
“Aye-aye, Commodore,” the Quad said, jumping to get started on opening the final bulkhead between him and freedom in the form of his Cutter. After he was inside, he could have them crack open the outer bay doors—or, worst case, use the Cutter’s weapons to blast his way out.
Stepping into the shuttle bay, the Pirate Lord was caught by surprise to see the red lighting of emergency power. Then he shrugged it off, as each shuttle bay was on its own isolated system; it wasn’t surprising if a virus of some kind took out the rest of the ship’s systems that a shuttle bay filled with methods of escape would be left relatively unaffected.
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