by Chris Hechtl
Renee Mayweather, Captain SG. Injured and left behind due to an EPS conduit burst on exit from hyper in Pyrax.
Lieutenant Commander Purple Thorn: TACO.
Captain JG “Commodore” Firefly: Ship A.I.
Prometheus:
Shelby Logan: Captain junior grade.
Janice Yu: former helmswoman/navigator on Carib Queen left behind in Pyrax with Renee and others. LCMDR and Captain of Nelson class Dunatis.
A small yacht emerged from hyperspace at the Nightingale-Epsilon Triangula jump point in a burst of light and energy discharge. The light and energy were briefly blinding to anything that might have been around. Only a recon drone was there to note their appearance.
“We have jump emergence. Sensors clearing, ma'am, as wake and bow wave dissipate,” the sensor rating said expectantly.
“Make it quick. It's not like we don't know where we are. We'd better be where we're supposed to be,” the captain growled, eying the navigator. The woman didn't meet her gaze.
“We are one million kilometers inside the safe jump zone for Epsilon Triangula,” the sensor tech said.
The captain grunted. “Close enough, I suppose,” She muttered. She'd wanted to shave it closer but her navigator had been cautious. It would cost them a little fuel but they had plenty of time. She flexed the crop in her hands a few times. “Course?”
The question was more of a statement, a warning that it had better be plotted.
“Working on it. We have the basic course already plotted to planetary orbit. I am refining it now,” Lora stated, tapping at her controls and then consulting a pocket calculator she kept handy.
“Hurry up. Time is money,” the captain growled, shooting a glower at the woman. Lora hadn't been broken in by the captain personally since the woman had to hold a watch shift as an officer. She'd been tempted, but she really swung to boys over girls anyway.
The woman bothered the hell out of her though; she was timid and cautious, always going slower than the captain would like. She knew her previous navigator Janice would have been able to handle the calculations in her head in half the time. And she wouldn't have had to run them several times just to be sure about them either.
“Yes, ma'am,” the navigator said, eyes locked on her console as she worked.
“Long-range sensor feed coming in, ma'am.”
“Put it up. I don't want to be surprised by anything. I don't plan on taking those warships’ word for granted either.”
“Yes, ma'am. Plot is being updated continuously as active sensors get a return,” the rating replied.
“Very well,” the captain growled, eyes squinting as she stared at the plot.
Captain Vanessa Mayweather was not happy about the activity in the Epsilon Triangula star system. If it had been up to her, she would have skipped over to a jump point and jumped on, but unfortunately her small ship needed the fuel... and whatever cargo or parts they could get. That meant they had to stop.
“There are several starships in the system, ma'am,” the sensor rating said, highlighting them. “Four in orbit.”
“I see that,” the captain said. “Get a better image of them. Are they warships? Friend or foe?”
“IFF squawking is friendly, ma'am. Federation forces,” the comm rating reported.
“I didn't ask you,” the captain said witheringly enough to make the young woman wince and look away. Her eyes caught the sight of a distant warship, then another in orbit with what looked like some sort of factory ship.
Automated and manned tugs were all over the star system. Not a lot, but more than she'd expected. Her hungry eyes went to the gas giant planet when she saw the IFF there. Then her eyes found a tug on its way to the planet. If it was automated and if there hadn't been any warships looking over her shoulder …
Then her eyes fell on the ship in orbit. Her thick fingers tapped out a command and a window appeared on the plot. The image was old of course, but she got enough of a look at her to note something was wrong. It took time for the image to clear up. Finally, she realized one nacelle was broken and more than half of it was missing. The fuzziness around the ship might be due to their sensors or to workers outside trying to make repairs.
“They weren't kidding about a battle here,” Lora said, eyes on the image.
“They've seen better days.” She wasn't sure if she should be happy or not. Obviously the ship had been through hell. From what they'd learned in Nightingale and the broadcasts they were picking up, so had the planet. It bothered her on some level that the pirates had done so much damage.
Then she sniffed the thought away. It wasn't like it was her problem, right? She might have an opportunity here if she played her cards right. There were most likely people on the ground eager to get away. She might be able to use that.
“Where the hell did they all come from? Warships … what the hell's going on?”
“I think it's this New Federation, ma'am,” Lora said.
“When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you,” Vanessa growled, sulking. She'd paid little attention to the news at each of their stops. It had seemed like fever dreams. Even when she'd run into the ships in Nightingale, she hadn't believed it. Now though …
“There is a factory ship in orbit, ma'am. It is sharing the same orbit as the cruiser.”
“Very well. We'll see if we can get something out of them. Maybe some of the parts you need, though I'm not sure how we're going to pay for it,” the captain said, giving her chief engineer a look of disgust.
The slim man flinched but then nodded, eager eyes still on the plot.
“Go get things sorted out below. We've got time before we enter orbit, at least six days. Make it five if you want your backside intact,” Vanessa growled.
“Yes, ma'am,” the chief engineer simpered, nodding and ducking his head as he hastily retreated.
“Ma'am, some of the stuff they said … I think someone said that the Federation Navy does inspections and basic repairs,” the helmsman said.
The captain grimaced. “I'm not sure I like anyone on my ship pawing through my things. They have no right.”
“Might makes right?” the helmsman said, eying her.
“Are you asking for KP duty, Troy?”
“No, ma'am,” the young man said, hastily turning back to his station.
“We are being pinged, ma'am. A request for our IFF has been submitted,” the comm rating stated carefully.
The captain settled herself into her chair. When she didn't respond, he cleared his throat nervously. “Um, ma'am?”
“I heard you. I'm just thinking it over,” she answered.
“They may not be happy if we don't respond, ma'am. After the battle here, they might get … twitchy,” the comm rating said, starting to sound nervous.
“Very well. Transmit our identity to them. Go ahead and give them our itinerary while you are at it. Then raise someone on the planet. I want to start negotiations on a cargo and passenger list as soon as we get into orbit,” she growled.
“Aye aye, ma'am,” the rating said, slumping in only slightly exaggerated relief.
>=:::#>
“One spot of good news, Skipper,” “Commodore” Firefly said, eying her as Captain SG Renee Mayweather came onto the partially repaired bridge. She hobbled over to the captain's chair and then sat down heavily into it. She hated that she was so feeble and out of breath. The exowalker helped her get around, but it felt like it wasn't enough. She still carried a cane to keep herself from toppling over. She hooked it on the arm rest and did her best to keep the thoughts of the damage to the right side of the chair out of her mind.
“Oh?” she asked, rubbing her good left hand over the arm rest gently.
“Captain Shelby reported a new arrival three days ago. As expected, a rather familiar ship arrived while you were going through your recent bout of surgery on Prometheus.”
“And the reason you are playing games and not telling me the ship's name is why?” Renee demanded, clearly getting exasperated.
“Well, I thought the surprise would be worth it. You needed time to recover, and since the ship has taken her time getting here, it all worked out. Now you can hold a conversation without too much of a time lag.”
“Again dancing around … no IFF?” Renee asked, looking at the plot.
“I left it off,” Firefly said simply. She turned to eye him, good hand on her hip. She quirked an eyebrow up in inquiry. The bridge watch looked up at the tableau with curious looks around the bridge. A few shrugged at the officer's antics.
“I thought this would do better,” the A.I. said, replacing the plot with an image of a ship drifting in space as it came closer to planetary orbit. “Recognize her?” he asked. “I know it has been a few years and you …,” he cut himself off when she flicked her hand in a suppression gesture.
“Oh, yes,” Renee murmured. “Thank you, old friend,” she murmured, eyes locked on the image for a moment. “Though it would have been nice to have been given some advanced warning so I could change,” she accused, shooting him a glower before her eyes returned like magnets to the image.
Renee recognized the yacht the moment their long-range sensors got a lock on her. The yacht was coming in at one-quarter impulse speed, trundling along with an air of wariness.
Renee frowned. That part was probably her imagination. Undoubtedly the elderly small ship just lacked the fuel and parts to race at her once blistering sublight speed.
She'd been born aboard her; it had been her home for decades. A flood of memories rushed into her mind. She'd imagined this meeting going on ever since she'd been left behind in Pyrax. Of course she'd imagined it under better circumstances.
“Well, isn't this like old times, but different than what once was. I wish Janice was here to see this or some of the others.”
“Ma'am?”
“Comm. Hail the Carib Queen.”
“Ma'am? You know that ship?” the comm rating asked, clearly confused.
“Oh, yes,” the captain said ever so softly.
Her old ship had made good on her escape from Pyrax years ago, just ahead of the admiral's renascence and the battle that had followed. She'd taken damage from the pirates in Agnosta. She'd fled to Seti Alpha 4 and the lower jump loop. She was a slow ship however, so word of events raced ahead of her while she was in hyper.
She wondered briefly if the ship had picked up news of the changes ricocheting through the sector. Undoubtedly so, though she doubted her sister would be able to process it. Her sister wasn't very flexible.
“Carib Queen to Firefly. This is Captain Mayweather. What is this about?” a familiar voice growled as the video came online. Her sister was still chunky, with some of the Mayweather looks but too much of a stern expression. There was a trace more salt in her hair at her roots, and some more crow's feet around her widening eyes. The woman just couldn't smile worth a damn and it showed. She was too butch, too masculine for a woman without any sort of softness to her to make her seem approachable. She led by brute force; it was apparently the only way she knew. “You!” Vanessa said, square jaw dropping in surprise. It clapped shut as Renee brushed fingertips over the console in front of her. “What the hell are you playing at Renee?”
“It's Captain Senior Grade Mayweather actually,” Renee replied sweetly, indicating her uniform. “I joined the Federation Navy while you were off. A lot has passed by since you and I … parted ways,” she said.
Vanessa scowled. “I see.” She sniffed. “Don't expect me to apologize for doing what was necessary for my ship and crew,” she growled, eyes flashing.
“I wouldn't dream of it,” Renee replied sweetly. “Even though we were a part of that same crew,” she said. “But the past is the past. Pity you've been living in it and running so long. Pyrax is safe; the pirates were vanquished there.”
“Really,” her sister said, eying her. Renee noted she was wearing her typical white captain's uniform with gold braid instead of a coverall or some other practical garment. Their mother and grandmother had taught them to dress for success, but Renee had learned to temper that with reality. She'd been daddy's little engineer, the one willing to get her hands dirty all the time, so she'd dressed accordingly.
It was probably why she'd ended up as chief engineer and her sister had taken the top slot when their mother Shannah had died. It hadn't occurred to her until much later in life that their parents had taken favorites and deliberately groomed them for the positions they'd taken. She'd wanted to show miss “Kiss my Ass” Vanessa up on the bridge just to prove she could handle it just like Vanessa could. Her sister had given up attempting to hold her own in engineering before she'd become a teenager. She'd lacked the skills and patience, and she'd made it rather loudly clear she didn't like to sully her hands with grunt work.
Of course she'd made sure that shot had been directed at her younger sister at every opportunity.
“So, what's this about a free engineering inspection I've been hearing rumor of?” Vanessa demanded.
“You mean they didn't do it in Nightingale?” Renee asked.
“They came aboard, nosed around, then they said they cleaned some viruses out of the computer. That's it.”
“I see. Did it help?”
“None of your business.”
“Well, we send a boarding team over for inspections to make certain a ship isn't carrying contraband or is a pirate spy.” Her sister grimaced. “We also send engineers and techs over to go over the ship. We download some files and clean your computer while they inspect and tune what they can and give you a list of stuff that needs to be fixed. They will do some minimum repairs for safety. Usually you'll gain an octave or two of speed out of just the tune-up.”
Randy's eyes went wide and bright. He started to open his mouth, but Vanessa snorted and quelled him with a brief glower. He dropped his head and started to fumble with his fingers together in front of his belt buckle. “That's it? My engineer bitches enough as it is. Pass,” Vanessa replied.
Renee shrugged. “Suit yourself. But if you want to land on the planet you need to be inspected. If you want to leave the star system, it is up to you.”
“And the fuel from the gas giant? Who owns that?” Vanessa demanded. “You, I suppose?”
“Admiral Irons constructed the platform sometime ago. The navy supports and maintains it. We lease the rights to mine from the gas giant from the planet. The fuel is sold to ships or to ground side reactors.”
“Really? Here?” Vanessa demanded.
“Oh you'd be surprised how much things have changed,” Renee replied, easing her right side. The ribs weren't quite aching but staying stiff too long started to bother her. She'd found her muscles tended to cramp with inactivity. “Although, I have to admit right now the planet isn't in good sorts. The pirates did their best to steal anything not nailed down.”
“Bloody pirates,” Vanessa snarled.
“I know,” Renee said, surprised that they'd found some common ground they could agree on. Apparently Vanessa found it surprising too because they shared a silence together for a brief moment.
Renee was aware that the fragile truce wouldn't last long. That was fine. She felt for Randy. The man was in over his head and working for her sister was no picnic. She judged the slight man would jump ship at the first opportunity, if Vanessa gave him the chance. Somehow she doubted it.
Their ongoing problems in engineering, an element of caution with the pirates in the sector, and the ship being shorthanded was why it had taken so many years to get around the loop to ET she judged. She wondered if her sister realized how much the galaxy was passing her by. If she didn't get her ship fixed up, she would lumber along and get totally passed by.
“So? They give you a ship and they break it? Shows how good you are at being captain. Proves you are just playing at the role. Just like you did when we were kids. You always bit off more than you could chew,” Vanessa said maliciously.
Renee felt stung. Her cheeks heated briefly. “Someone has to stand up
to the bullies of the galaxy if no one else will,” she said, jutting out her chin. Her sister snorted. “For the record, we held our own. Even though we were ambushed with nine to one, we still managed to take one of them out and get clear to lick our wounds. When we're patched up, I'm ready to take them on again.”
“Sure you are,” her sister mocked scathingly.
“Face it, Vanessa, I traded up. I didn't think much of it initially, but boy did I love it when I found out what hole you'd dumped me in. Pyrax ended up being the best thing that could have happened to me, Janice, and the others.” She laughed. “That really is the funny thing; it was the best thing for me—for the sector and possibly the galaxy. I'm making a difference, and I love my job.” Most of the time she thought. “Thanks.” She mockingly bowed slightly to her sister.
“I did you no favors,” her sister said, eying her.
“Oh but you did, and Randy? Oh, I bet you love having him in bed,” Renee teased maliciously. She could just make out the slight man behind her sister's squat but chunky frame. Randy hadn't been much of an engineer before; they'd taken him on in trade from another ship twenty years ago. He'd never really applied himself in engineering, just gone through the motions. She vaguely remembered he'd been muscled at one point, though she might have been mistaken.
Her sister sniffed in disdain, looking over her shoulder to a thin man in the background. The guy seemed to shrivel a bit. “The pencil dick wimp isn't all that great there either. I put his lying tongue to good use though.”
That got a startled chortle from both crews. The chief engineer squirmed uncomfortably, coloring in humiliation. He kept his head down. The watching crew hastily looked away as both women glared about them.
They continued to exchange barely disguised barbed transmissions back and forth. Captain twittered her sister; Renee gave as good as she got.
“This is like watching a tennis match,” one rating texted another.
“More like women's wresting. A cat fight with virtual claws. Spitting,” he caught the disapproving look from his section head and went back to studying his readouts carefully.
