No one argued or even commented, though some dark looks were directed at the forward viewport toward the hull of the ramshackle station. The ship eased away from the dock, thrusters firing. Minutes of coasting backward, then the ship flipped end for end. Once oriented correctly, Ivanov gave the order and the ship’s sublight engine kicked on and the ship accelerated away.
((--[][]--))
“They just up and stole three ships!”
Josette Martel sat back and watched as Fidelity’s executive officer raged in front of her. The two were in the frigate’s conference room and Josette had settled herself down in her customary seat at the head of the table, her booted feet up on the table. A porcelain cup of tea was resting daintily on a saucer in her left hand. With her right hand, she gently lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip.
“Oh, stop whining, Fen,” she said as he bumped his hip against the edge of the table, jostling her and nearly causing her to spill. “They didn’t touch us, you’ll recall. They were perfectly within their rights to seize those ships after those idiots started shooting up the corridors.”
“They had no right; those jumped up sons of jackals.”
“Knock it off, XO,” Josette said irritably. “You sound like an old woman.” He glared at her, but she looked back at him with an imperious gaze so cold it could have frozen helium. “We all know the rules here at Hyperidon. No killing, no gunfire. Those idiots tried to settle some score and management here burned them down.” She considered this and then saluted the management with her teacup. “Those Baron Death and Committee morons were lucky the stationers only took the ships and arrested the survivors. The Primary would be well within his rights to shoot the blaggards.”
Fenton Cormyrn scowled at his captain. “How can you be so cool about this, Skipper?”
Her eyes twinkled and she took another sip of her cooling tea. “Because you’re too focused on your own short-sighted anger to notice the bigger picture.”
“And what would that be?” he snarled, throwing his hands in the air.
“There are three warships in the dock, only three slips down from us. Armed vessels, at least, just ready to be added to the fleet.”
Fenton stared at her for a long moment as her words filtered through his consciousness. He lowered his arms and braced to a passable attention. “Damn right, Skipper. I didn’t think it through.”
“We need three teams. Full kit, but hand weapons only, though, let’s try and keep this as low profile as we possibly can. Until we can’t,” she smirked. He chuckled. “I want two officers in each group and two engineers. We get in there and get out.”
He nodded, smiling. “I’m on it, Skipper,” he declared, an evil gleam in his eyes. He turned to leave.
“XO, one thing,” she spoke up and he swiveled back to face her. “This is a raid, a capture, not a punishment party. The point is to get in, grab those ships and get the hell out of here.” Josette gave him a stern glare over the rim of her teacup. “You will not start a running firefight with station security or lose half the crew in the attempt. Am I perfectly clear?”
“Crystal,” he replied smartly.
“Good. Move.” Her eyes danced with mirth as he all but ran from the compartment.
((--[][]--))
Yokusk was just starting to relax; the station was just starting to get under control again and returning to its normal levels of dysfunction. The prisoners were locked up, the dead were already disposed of and caretaker crews were assigned to the confiscated ships. The crews were little more than a fire watch to make sure the ships were available for the Warlord to take possession once he arrived.
Security software suddenly started showing groups of individuals debarking from the frigate Fidelity and moving through the docking areas. They were armed, but only with hand weapons: pistols and stunners, mostly. That by itself was not unusual; weapons were allowed on station, though using them on others was not. Weapons of all shapes, sizes and calibers were available for sale and purchase here, with the proviso that they did not see use outside of the practice ranges.
Yokusk checked the feed when the security software beeped to catch his attention. When forty people debarked from a single ship and didn’t head toward the interior sections of the station (where the shops and bars could be found), that was when the security officers and software went on alert.
Yokusk cursed the pirates and he cursed his own inattention. Of course one of the other factions would make a move on those ships. He’d focused all his attention on Trokakk, thinking that the threat would come from that direction. And once the tractor had departed, he’d dropped his guard.
He activated comms. “Security, send units to the docking areas. We have a group of crews off the Fidelity moving toward the captured ships. Turn them away, use whatever force is necessary!”
((--[][]--))
Fenton and his group broke into a run as they approached the open airlock leading into the cutter. Raising his stunner, he and four others in his group opened fire; a blue-uniformed flunky inside the ship slammed his hand on the emergency button to seal the hatch just as the stun bolts splashed on the closing portal. One bolt struck the man in the chest and he seized up, collapsing to the deck. His arm flopped under the hatch as it trundled down, crushing it under the weight of metal. There was a sickly crunch and severed human hand thunked to the metal deck.
“Get it open,” Fenton Cormyrn barked to one of the engineers. Rushing over to the exterior controls, the tech popped open the cover, produced a datapad and with a series of keystrokes had the airlock door cycling open again.
“Worthless operating system,” the man said with a smile, shoving the datapad back into a thigh pocket. “Glad we stopped using wINgate back on the home system. Just shit!”
“History lesson later,” Fenton chided with a smirk. “Forward! Fidelity!” he screamed a war cry and it echoed from the throats of the score of crew with him and they charged into the ship.
Taking the cutter proved ridiculously easy as there was only the barest watch section left aboard as caretakers. The three individuals, two male zheen and a human female, along with the amputee on the brow were easy meat to Fenton’s party. They simply stormed in and gunned them down in a hail of stun bolts.
“Engineering secure!” the techs called over the comms. One of them, a zheen named Kutha, dashed to the reactor console and started hammering keys. After a few seconds, his antennae twitched. “Reactor coming back online out of standby gray mode. A Zircon-371? These are some brave skivaks on this ship, fighting using a piece of skrrg like this.” He pressed a few more keys. “Reactor power up to ten percent. We’re good, Cormyrn! We got enough power to get out of here.”
On the ship’s bridge, Fenton acknowledged. He nodded to the helmsman, a Severite who slipped into the seat at the helm. Or stood on it, rather, since she was too short for the seat. He pressed a control on the arm of the command chair as he dropped into it. “Seal the brow hatch.” After a few seconds, the indicator on his display went green.
“Disengage docking clamps,” he ordered.
Reston Wyld, the cat at the helm, pressed the appropriate control, which was lit with an angry red indicator. “No response from station control,” she replied, her voice a growl. She pounded a fist on a bare patch of the consoles, dented from repeated blows from previous people who had worked at that station. The light stayed a solid red.
Fenton entered a few commands, and then made a face. He turned to the woman sitting at the ship’s tactical console. “What kind of weapons does this bucket have?”
She checked her displays, which were just flickering to life. “Looks like two light lasers and one railgun turret.”
Fenton grimaced. “Nothing like Fidelity. Arm the railgun, target the station. If they won’t unlock us, we’ll blast our way free.”
The woman cackled with delight. “I love when you talk dirty, Cormyrn.” The railgun powered up and came online and she typed in a few commands. “A less than
intuitive control system,” she muttered. A second later, the displays showed that the railgun was targeting the station.
Fenton didn’t even have time to activate comms when suddenly the red indicator on the helm console changed to green. Reston whirled around to face him and he flapped a hand at her. “Go!” he snapped.
The cat went back to her controls, pressed two buttons, then jammed a lever forward. With a lurch, which sent a shiver through the hull and a scream through the inertial dampeners, the cutter flew backward on full thrusters. Thirty seconds later, the ship was completely clear from the station and the immediate traffic in the area. Shuttles and EVA skimmers scattered as the warship barreled past.
Fenton felt his gut go cold. “Get the shields up!” he roared. The woman pressed a few keys and then nodded.
“Shields are energizing,” she reported, nodding slightly. “But the shield generators were completely cold. It’s going to take at least twenty minutes to get full power through them.”
Another lurch as the pilot flipped the cutter end for end. “Activating main propulsion. Hmmm,” the cat said, slightly frustrated. “Power levels are still only at twelve percent. We’ve got two main engines on this bucket. They were cold too. Right now, we’ve got about twenty-five percent thrust at these power levels.”
“I’ll take it,” Fenton replied. “Punch it, but don’t burn anything out. Oh and every three minutes, make a random course change. I don’t want them just firing at us because we gave them a gorgeous target.”
“Copy that,” the cat said, giving a little yowl as she manipulated the controls.
((--[][]--))
Armed security troopers raced up to dock sixteen, where the captured light freighter Dreyvis was moored. They were less than a minute behind the Fidelity’s troops getting to the cargo ship; and in their haste to get aboard, the fools hadn’t secured the outer hatch. The blue-uniformed security troopers charged aboard, weapons at the ready. Unlike the crewmen of the pirate vessel, the station security were armed with assault weapons and flash grenades. This was the Warlord’s property now and if they had to damage the ship to keep it, they would do so with no regrets.
Shouts of panic and alarm rang off the interior bulkheads of the freighter. Panels and components sparked and sizzled as bullets and needles pranged off the metal. Five minutes later, it was all over.
The leader got on comms and called in. “Primary, team two calling in. Dreyvis is secured. No survivors.”
“And your own casualties?” the Primary’s voice sounded calm and unconcerned, a pro forma question.
“Two men stunned,” the leader replied with disgust. “They weren’t even using proper weapons.”
“Clever,” Yokusk replied. “If there are no fatalities among your men… Make sure that the ship is powered down and have the bodies brought back in for processing and disposal.”
“Understood. Team two out.”
((--[][]--))
Josette Martel nodded in satisfaction. Fidelity had gotten undocked and backed away from the station in an orderly fashion. For some reason, the station authorities didn’t deny her permission to leave, and she didn’t question it. They were giving her what she wanted, so why would she?
“We’ve cleared the station and satellites,” the turtle-like domak helmsman reported.
“Excellent,” she replied, straightening in her command seat a bit. “Sensors, where are the other ships in our new flotilla?”
The glossy black hak’ruk female at sensors peered at her displays. “The cutter is already four light seconds out, heading down on a vector of zero-seven-one. The light freighter Kaeli is four hundred thousand klicks out, on a more curved vector but heading out in roughly the same direction.”
“And the Dreyvis?” Josette pressed, tapping a finger to her lips.
The insect tapped a few controls. “I’m afraid they haven’t left the station, Captain. In fact, I’m not getting any read from the team’s communicators.”
Josette took a long breath and then let it out slowly. “Pity. Hopefully some of them survived and we can get them later. If not…” She didn’t finish the thought. “Navigation, set us a course to rendezvous with the other two ships. Bring us to eighty percent acceleration.”
She glanced over to a human male at the communication’s station. “Mister Reginald, contact those two ships. Inform them of our course and make sure they meet up to rendezvous.”
“Yes, Captain,” the man replied, and sent the messages.
“Captain, the defense ships are moving in our direction,” the hak’ruk piped up. Her voice was high and, if she was human, it would be considered nasal. “And they are piling on the accel. If they continue their courses and speeds, the corvette will reach us half an hour before the destroyer will.”
Josette shook her head. “Unlikely that they’d face us down separately. They’ll link up.”
There were general nods of assent. It will be a long chase. Some twenty hours or so for them to catch us, given how fast they’re going. Could try to use it to our advantage. Maybe make a serious vector change, or perhaps drop something nasty in their faces as they get into weapons’ range?
“What data do we have on those two ships?” Josette asked calmly.
The sensor tech checked her displays and went through a few menus. Then she blinked in surprise. “I don’t have any data on that corvette, Captain. She’ll be most likely faster and more maneuverable than us. But Captain, we’ve actually seen that class of destroyer before. The Thebes class,” the woman went on. “Light on missiles, but makes up for it with two more heavy lasers, giving her six. Ten more laser cannons, and all but two can aim forward. Four point defense clusters, only a top accel of 500, but that’s better than us.”
“Barely,” Josette muttered to herself. Fidelity could hit 490 at her best. But the new ships they’d just captured couldn’t hope to hit that speed, not with their current level of damage and the unfamiliarity of the crews with their systems. “But their armament outstrips ours. If they close to range, we’ll be hard-pressed to fight them. We’ll have to be smarter. “Send a signal to both prizes. Increase current accel by twenty-five. We’ll see if we can race them to the hyper limit.”
“Understood, Captain,” the comms officer replied.
“Helm, you heard the order.”
The pilot nodded. “Increasing thrust.”
“Kaeli and Sever are increasing speed to stay with us,” the sensor watch stated.
“Very well.” Josette checked the temporary tactical network her code monkeys set up between the three ships. It was crude and buggy, but it did allow her to get status feeds from the new ships. She was slightly concerned about enemy slicers using this network to cause havoc on Fidelity, but she decided it was worth the risk for a few more moments. She got the information within seconds and quickly cut the link, her own concern over the safety of the ship overcoming her recklessness.
Both ships were no match for Fidelity, but that was a given. While no spring clucker herself, Fidelity was positively blooming with youth in comparison to the two new prizes. The freighter was at least eighty standard years old and the cutter was over a hundred. To say that either ship was lovingly maintained would be a joke, but they were kept to a functional level of decay, something that the maintenance yard would have to address once they got back to base. Still, ships were ships and the Argos Liberation Front was always looking to add to the fleet. Two more armed vessels would certainly be looked upon favorably by command.
But they still had to escape the star system. Pitting Fidelity against the destroyer alone would be dicey at best and even throwing in the new ships (with their recent damage, hasty repairs, poor maintenance and untested systems), it would still be a tough fight. And with that corvette in the mix, things would be worse.
“How long at current course and speeds will they catch us?” she asked, her eyes still locked on the displays.
“Eighteen hours, fifty-one minutes, present speed,”
the sensor watch replied. “That’s for the destroyer. Corvette will be on us thirty-two minutes after, assuming no course or speed changes.”
Josette pursed her lips. There was no way they’d come in piecemeal. If that destroyer captain was any kind of smart, he’d slow his acceleration just enough for the corvette to catch up and then force her to deal with them both. And with more than one ship to deal with at the same time, Josette knew her job just became much more difficult.
It would be a very long day and a half to the hyper limit, fighting all the way.
Chapter 2
“Helm, bring us to two-one-seven,” Josette ordered, her left hand gripping the arm of her chair tightly, while she leaned on the right arm of her chair with that elbow.
“Shields are holding at 45 percent on the port facing,” the shields operator reported. “Minor spotting.”
“Destroyer is coming back around again,” the sensor watch stated, her voice harsh.
“Where’s that corvette?” Josette demanded, checking her own feed.
Just as she spotted it, the sensor operator replied. “Moving to our port side and down, Captain. Kaeli is moving to re-engage!”
Josette watched as the battered freighter, a prize so recently taken, accelerated toward the incoming corvette (equally battered after hours of combat) and raced past, her energy cannons slashing at the corvette’s shields. The corvette, of course, didn’t just take this attack. Her own weapons tore into the freighter’s shields, punching through in one case and one of the lasers slammed into the unprotected hull, delivering a hammer blow and causing the ship to pitch over to the starboard, streaming air and smoke.
“We’re coming into range,” her tactical officer replied, wiping sweat from his face.
The Warlord's Path: Samair in Argos: Book 6 Page 5
