“Hey, where are you going? I thought we could admire my new artwork together.”
“Later, Ok? Right now, I need to go bitch-slap some idiots.”
“Oh goodie. Can I watch?”
Simms must have a sixth sense, because she intercepted me just outside the door to my cabin. “Where are you going, Sir?” She asked with her head cocked to one side, and arms folded across her chest.
With a thumb, I pointed to the cabin door. “To change,” I looked down at my disheveled and inappropriate civilian clothes. “When I left the ship, there was a dress uniform hanging in the closet, I’ll put it on before I talk with UNEF Command.”
She moved to stand between me and the door. “Why are you talking with them?”
“Because they need to hear what a bunch of-”
“No, that’s not why you are doing it. You’re doing it to make yourself feel better, even though you know it won’t change their minds one bit and will make it harder on us.”
“Simms, come on, I just want to-”
“You want to make yourself feel better by yelling at a bunch of morons. If you are angry and need to blow off steam, go to the gym or the rifle range, Sir.” Seeing that my anger was now directed at her, she nodded with satisfaction. “You’re our commander, you don’t get to do things just because they make you feel good. What is our plan, after this op?”
“Simms, we don’t even have a plan for this op.”
“Goal, then. What is our goal after we kill those Maxolhx ships?”
“Uh,” that was something I had not thought about at all, not one bit. “Come back to Earth, I guess.”
“Exactly. Personally, I would like to come back home and not be thrown in the disciplinary barracks, if you can arrange that. You publically chewing out and embarrassing high-ranking UNEF officers is something they won’t forget, or forgive. Other than blowing off steam by yelling at a bunch of dirtside assholes, what do you expect to accomplish? Sir?”
“Simms,” I took my hand off the door control, “sometimes you are truly, like, mind-bogglingly annoying.”
“If you are mad at me now, we can deal with that, later. Right now, the ship needs a captain, and our new crew needs to see their commander is calm, cool and in command of himself.”
We had six former Pirates aboard the ship; me, Simms, Smythe, Reed, Poole and Porter. Simms was my new executive officer, I told her she needed to find someone to fill in with logistics and Nagatha volunteered to handle that role, once she was fully operational as the ship’s AI. The only problem was our ship’s new AI had no experience with taking care of monkeys, so Simms would need to work with her. Simms also needed to offload her work in the hydroponics gardens, except she told me she enjoyed working in the gardens, it was relaxing and reduced her stress. I agreed and I also insisted someone else needed to be primarily responsible for the hydroponics.
So, we had six experienced Pirates. Two pilots if you don’t count me, and two special operations soldiers. Six monkeys were not enough to fill a barrel, so we had to rely largely on twenty new people. Of those twenty volunteers, six were civilian engineers and scientists who had been aboard the Dutchman to study the ship and learn whatever they could from Skippy. The six who signed on were people who could not resist seeing the ship in action, despite the warning about curiosity killing the cat. The six engineers were from America, China, Britain, Japan, India and Germany, making for a very international group. One of the scientists, a Chinese woman, put the situation in perspective for me. “If your mission fails, I am dead whether I remain on Earth or not, correct? I would prefer to see what is out there.”
I appreciated her attitude.
Ok, so that left fourteen military personnel who took a leap of faith and signed on to be not-so-Merry Pirates. Five pilots from the USA, Britain, France and India. The remaining nine were special operations soldiers, and I use the term ‘soldier’ generically. Three of the Delta team signed on. We also got two US Marine Corps Raiders who had been on a training mission aboard the Yu Qishan and had been inside the Dragon dropship when Skippy faked orders to send the Dragon to fly over to the Dutchman. There were the three people on Smythe’s racing team; one SAS, one Canadian and one Polish soldier. Finally, with the Raiders was a German soldier with the Bundeswehr’s Kommando Spezialkraft. Smythe was going to have a tremendous challenge integrating all those nationalities into his team, he also needed to deal with the rivalry between the Delta guys, who mostly came from Ranger units, and the Marine Raiders. I wished Smythe the best of luck, then moved on to deal with my own problems.
Everyone who had not signed on to join the Merry Band of Pirates, we loaded them into our one remaining big Condor dropship, and it was flown down to the island of Barbados by Fireball Reed and a Royal Air Force pilot, a new guy named Paul Beazer. We chose Barbados because it was remote from any troublesome air defenses, plus I wanted to show the people who refused to join us that I had no hard feelings toward them. Reed gave me the stink-eye when she came back aboard, I think she would have appreciated more than a few minutes in tropical paradise before she got stuck inside the Dutchman for months, maybe even years.
Following the very wise advice of Simms, I ordered us to jump away as soon as possible, using the stored energy in the jump drive capacitors while Skippy was still getting the main reactor back online. Our first jump was only ten times farther than the Moon’s orbit, I had several reasons for doing that. The purpose of jumping was to get us safely beyond the range of UNEF Command, where they had no chance to try anything stupid. While in orbit, Skippy had been making adjustments to the jump drive controller system, and monkeys had been screwing with the system to learn how it worked. The beer can told me he didn’t want to risk a major jump until he had the system tuned up the way he liked, so we performed only a short jump. A short jump was also safe for us, in case anything major went wrong with the ship, we could get the crew back to Earth in dropships.
Another reason for a short jump was to give our twenty new, and perhaps somewhat reluctant, new crew members an opportunity to see our home world from a distance. We were not so far that the planet was only a dot. From where we were, Earth was still a white-blue-and-green disc. Far enough that, as the Dutchman drifted and the reactor began recharging the drive capacitors, people could process the idea that we had left our home, and we would not be seeing it again for a long time, maybe never. If any of the new crew had second thoughts, this was their opportunity to speak up. All anyone needed to do to get a ride home was to contact me or Skippy or Simms, and we would arrange to put them aboard a Dragon and have Skippy fly it down to Earth.
Fortunately, no one changed their minds. I’m sure people had second thoughts, hell, I did while looking at the big blue marble from so far away.
Assuring that our new crew was truly committed to the mission was a good reason for performing a short jump. My main reason for the jump was to see the reaction of UNEF Command, and the governments of the Security Council, when they realized the Flying Dutchman was going out to kill two of the most powerful warships in the galaxy, and there was nothing they could do about it. My hope was that, as the inescapable reality sunk in, government officials would gain a new perspective and change their minds.
Because these government officials were humans, I was of course bitterly disappointed. The only immediate result of my action was to kick off a furious round of ass-covering and blame-shifting on Earth. Per my instructions, Skippy filtered the messages we received from Earth, so we did not have to listen to the threats and pleas for reason and worthless blah blah blah. The only time I spoke with an official was just before we jumped again, I was contacted by a US Army general in command of the ‘Old Ironsides’ First Armored Division. Skippy filtered out most of the messages from Earth, I think he liked this guy or maybe felt sorry for him, or just thought I should talk with someone before we left on our suicide mission. My parents, my sister and Adams were all being watched too closely for me to call them privately. My par
ents knew I was Ok, that I was aboard the ship again, because Skippy snuck a little bot into their bedroom and projected a message on the ceiling. It was good that my parents had some idea what was going on with me, it sucked that I couldn’t tell them myself.
“Good, uh,” I had to glance at a display to remember that time it was in El Paso. Which didn’t matter because he could have been calling me from anywhere. We kept comms voice-only, so I didn’t have a visual cue from a window in his office. “Day, General.”
“Colonel Bishop,” he sounded mildly surprised. It was a good sign that he hadn’t referred to me as Sergeant.
“How are things at Fort Bliss, Sir?” That is what I said because I didn’t know what else to say. After all, he called me, it was his move to get past small talk.
“Wish I knew, Bishop, I’m stuck at the Pentagon for the duration of this crisis.” The time lag for signals to travel between Earth and the ship made for awkward conversation, so we paused a lot. “Any chance you can give me a hint how long that will be?”
“You’ll know when I know, Sir.”
“Can I assume this call is secure?” It sounded like he was in a small room, there was a muffled echo when he spoke. “I got a text message telling me no one can listen in, but I’m using a regular cellphone.”
I looked at my phone to check the call was going through the ultra-secure Skippytel network. “Yes, Sir, this call is totally secure. The only people on the line are the two of us and a beer can.”
That got a chuckle from the general, I took that another good sign. “I will never get used to that. All I did was tell my phone to call Colonel Joseph Bishop. I’m calling you from a supply closet in the ‘D’ Ring.”
Captain Reed waved from the pilot couch to get my attention, gesturing to the main display that showed we now had plenty of charge for a jump out way past the orbit of Pluto. “What can I do for you, General?”
“Officially, I should order you to surrender the ship, but we both know that is a waste of time. Since this call is secure, it’s also bullshit asking you to resign your command.”
“Sir?”
“Bishop, you’ve been out there, I haven’t. You and Chang are the only experienced starship commanders we have, and rumor has it the Chinese have Chang in an underground cell, so he’s not going anywhere. Is the galaxy as big a shitstorm as the intel reports tell me?”
“I’d say it’s a dumpster fire, Sir. We don’t have any allies out there and we’re not getting any. The idea that we can throw ourselves on the mercy of one side or the other is just a childish fantasy. I understand why the Security Council is panicked, but the action they planned will only ensure the extinction our species. The Maxolhx, Thuranin, Kristang, that coalition has good reasons to hate our guts, and they are hateful murderous MFers who would kill us for fun anyway. The other side, ah, the Rindhalu are too old and lazy to do anything unless they have to, and no way are any of their clients sticking their necks out for us. Once the truth about us gets out, both sides are going to fight over Skippy and that wormhole controller we have. Earth will get bulldozed in the crossfire. Surrender is not an option. Sir, it’s just not.”
“I thought as much. Bishop, I have grandchildren. I’d like for them to have grandchildren, you understand? That means someone needs to keep our little world safe for a good long time. Can you do that?”
“I will do my utmost, Sir.” Shit, I hoped he didn’t ask me what my plan was.
“That’s all I can ask. I haven’t been fully read in on your missions,” he admitted, which surprised me. The commander of the First Armored was a major general, and he had not been entrusted with a secret that was unraveling anyway? “From what I have heard, I expect you to go out there and kick ass, you hear me?”
“I hear you, Sir.”
“Then go with God, my prayers will be with you. Bishop, when you come back, look me up. The Old Ironsides would be honored to buy you a beer.”
“I will, Sir.”
CHAPTER NINE
After we jumped away for real, the Dutchman headed for the wormhole we needed to reopen, I was in my office, staring at a blank laptop screen when Simms knocked on the doorframe. “What’s the plan, Sir? The crew has been asking.”
I sighed and flipped the laptop closed. “Yeah, the newbies aren’t used to-”
“Not just the newbies,” she cocked her head in that way meaning I had not met her approval in some way. “We all want to know. Need to know.”
“I’m working on it, Simms.”
“That’s fine until we go through the wormhole. After that, the pilots will need to
know where to set course.”
“Oh, hell, Simms, I told you, I have no freakin’ clue how to kill those ships!” My outburst made me crane my neck toward the open door, fearing someone had heard me.
The look of disappointment on her face really hurt. “No idea at all? You’re not kicking around ideas to settle on the best one?”
“No, none.”
“I was kind of hoping you had been working on plans while we were dirtside, Sir. You did intend to go back out?”
Her remark reminded me that she had not intended to rejoin the ship. “Simms, my brain seriously needed downtime. Needs downtime, not that I’m going to get it now. No, I hadn’t started to consider options. Hey,” I protested in reaction to the brief look of scorn she shot at me. “I was going to work on it, eventually. Christ, I thought we had plenty of time, damn it! How was I supposed to know UNEF would try to steal our ship?”
“Our ship?” The look on her face changed to amusement, which was much better.
“You know what I mean. UNEF Command wasn’t involved when we took this bucket from the Thuranin, why should-” I slapped the table. “Skippy! Hey, did UNEF or anyone work on plans to stop the Maxolhx?” Maybe the problem was already solved. Surely if the world’s best military strategists had put their heads together, they might have a solution to the problem.
“Sadly, no,” the avatar shook its head, the huge hat bobbing alarmingly. “The UNEF member nations were too busy blaming each other for what they saw as your latest recklessly jackass actions that put Earth in mortal danger. The broader group of nations on the Security Council, and those other major powers who were briefed on the matter, were busy blaming UNEF and trying to get the UNEF organization dissolved as being irrelevant. If it makes you feel any better, there were at least three Security Council nations calling for you, Chang and Chotek to be thrown in prison and put on trial.”
“That does not make me feel better.”
“Crap. This empathy thing is still a puzzle to me. I thought maybe you would be happy to be such a big a celebrity. Isn’t celebrity mostly about people paying attention to you?”
“I don’t want to be a celebrity, damn it. Come on, nobody on Earth had a useful idea, even a nugget of an idea that could be developed into something useful?”
“Ah, I never said they didn’t have any ideas, just no good ones.”
“Please, hit me with one.”
“Joe, I already told you, the plans I heard were stupid, not worth our time.”
“I will be the judge of whether monkey-brain thinking is useful or not. Hit me.”
“Fine. The first one, that multiple people considered, was for me to contact those ships with a fake recall message.”
“Ooooh. Could you do that?”
“Joe, I could do a lot of incredibly stupid things. I do not do those things, because unlike you ignorant monkeys, I use my brain once in a-”
Simms pushed herself away from the door frame she had been leaning against. “I will leave you two boys to insult each other,” she said with a look of bemusement.
“Simms,” I was instantly on the defensive. “Sorry. We can be adults if-”
“No. Sir,” she waved her hands. “This is how you work best with the beer can. Please, continue. Let me know you have a plan to save the world again. I need to go break a bunch of newbies of the bad habits they picked up dirt
side. Colonel Smythe and I have a bet on how many of the Delta Force guys will puke in their helmets the first time they train in zero-G.”
“This is all your fault, Joe,” Skippy’s avatar looked sad while he watched Simms walk away. “If you weren’t such a childish-”
“Yeah, blah blah. I’m a big baby, whatever. Can we get back to the subject? You could send a recall order to those ships?”
“It’s possible, it would not be easy, for reasons I won’t bother to explain since we’re not doing that anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Ugh. Did being dirtside for a few weeks put your tiny brain on permanent holiday, Joe? Think! What would happen if those ships received a recall message?”
“They would turn around, duh. Unless you screwed up and didn’t include the right codes or something.”
“I meant, after they turned around, Joe. They would go back to base, and discover the recall message was fake. Plus, you moron, the Maxolhx leadership would be very interested to learn why someone did not want those ships going to Earth. DUUUUUH!”
That was an impressive ‘duh’ from him, he really put a lot of effort into it. His avatar even did the slack-jawed Homer Simpson thing to sell it. He should have at least gotten a Golden Globe nomination for that performance. “I know that, Mister Arrogant. I meant-”
“No you didn’t, you big liar jerkface. You didn’t know it until I told you.”
“I did know that.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did.”
“Did not.”
Crap, I knew this could go on until the end of time, so I gave up. “Faking a recall message is not a long-term solution, but it may be something we need to give us time to put a better plan together. And if you can send a recall message, you can send other types of messages, such as telling those ships to go someplace else instead of Earth,” I explained patiently. “Like, we tell those ships to go someplace where we are waiting to ambush them. Duh.”
Renegades (Expeditionary Force Book 7) Page 14
