by Chris Hechtl
“If I pack more ice, I won't have any for the rest of the year!” the butcher said desperately.
“Wait, what?” Carl asked, blinking. “Run that last one by me again?”
“The river won't freeze for another six months! We can't wait that long …”
“You are using frozen ice from winter?” Carl asked, surprised.
“You fancy people …,” Mister Desi started to rant.
“Okay, hang on, wait,” Carl said, thinking fast as he held a hand up. “What if … what if we traded you an ice generator?”
The butcher scowled. “No such thing.”
“How do you think we do it on board ship?” Carl demanded. “I wasn't kidding about reefer trucks and refrigeration. “You ship everything packed in ice …,” he frowned thoughtfully.
“What?” Mister Desi demanded.
“I'm trying to figure this out but I'm not an engineer. Are you interested in an ice generator?”
“I dunno; what's it going to cost me?” the butcher asked suspiciously.
“Good product for us for one. I'll look into it. I think …,” he paused. “We'll need a way to power it. You want ice blocks, right?” he asked. “How big?”
“Well, you know …,” the guy measured out with his big scarred hands. Carl nodded and looked up as he accessed his implants. “Okay, Prometheus, I need an engineer to lend me an ear,” he said, cupping one hand to his ear.
“He's nuts. I knew it,” the butcher said, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.
“It's called … never mind,” Carl said as he received a signal from Prometheus.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
Carl had to return to the ship to lay out his plan on fixing the meat problem with the staff.
“I narrowed it down to bad input product and poor transport methods. I won't even get into the stuff in the packing plant itself since I don't know what's there and at this time speculation will just turn me into a vegetarian,” Carl said. “Question, should we get beef jerky?”
“I'd even question that,” Doctor Taylor said with a grimace. “At this point, the protein is only good to be recycled by the food replicators. Don't trust anything.”
“Agreed,” Shelby said. Carl nodded.
“Are we wearing kick me signs on our back? Do we have a tattoo that says take advantage of me?” Cynthia demanded.
“I don't know. It is bothersome. Some civilians have been taking advantage of the government and military back home but this … they don't even know us!”
“Right. They are making it clear they don't like us and don't want us around.”
“The question is, do we send a message back that we're not going anywhere? Or do we leave?”
“I'm not sure. You could offer freezers and other tech in trade. How are they being paid?”
“Half in goods half in credits. Deposit and payments for each delivery,” the quartermaster said. “The credits come through their government.”
“See if they are amiable to the goods being more than raw goods. Make suggestions to improve their product and shelf life. See if they bite,” Shelby suggested.
The quartermaster made a note as he nodded. “On that note,” he waved the table with a brief thin smile at the pun. “I wanted to point out I suggested an ice generator for the packing plant. But the logistics bothered me enough to want a second opinion.”
“A generator big enough for a packing plant?” Lieutenant Sulistyo asked. “We can do it, but how are you going to power it? How do they maintain it?” he asked.
“Exactly my point. You can't input one technology into a civilization without the necessary supporting infrastructure plus the skills to operate and maintain it,” Carl said.
“Well said,” Cynthia said with a nod.
“Thank you, ma'am,” the quartermaster said. He turned to the commodore. “If it doesn't work … I'm afraid to say this, but the Irons approach may not work here, ma'am. We might need to use some tough love or just shun them. They'll get the message when trade picks up around them and they are left out,” he suggested.
“True. We can consider that as an option. Don't hint about it yet though,” she said, eying the quartermaster.
“Taking our business elsewhere is a good threat, ma'am. I'm definitely regretting going with the lowest bid.”
Cynthia winced. “Ouch. Now we know why they are so low.”
“Yes. Look into local food inspection from the government,” Shelby said, pursing her lips. “And remind me not to have a steak anytime soon.”
“Yes, ma’am. Not unless it is well done,” Carl said.
“Hell, I don't even know if I want one at all,” Shelby said, shaking her head.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
Phoebe shook her head in disgust at the planet and its meager offerings. Fred had given her and Ayumu some spending money, but it hadn't been enough to last the day. Staying on the ground in a motel was out. She had spot-checked a few of the rickety wood buildings; they were far worse than what she'd seen growing up with on Antigua! She'd decided retreat over an infestation of lice or fleas was for the best.
She, like many of the others in the convoy, hoped and prayed their next stop would fare better.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
When they broke away from the planet ten days later, their food holds were partially restocked. Most of the crew and passengers had been given brief groundside liberty, though all of them had stayed close to the spaceport since there was little to no transportation off the airstrip other than on foot.
They left behind a series of multipurpose satellites, improved radios, electronics, solar panels, computers, water purification systems, some farm equipment, medical supplies, a database, a small class 1 industrial replicator, and a revamped meat packing industry that was ready to dominate the local industry. As they made their way out of the star system, they found their first messenger buoy from Belfast and Puglia. Apparently, the duo had split up to hit each of the star systems in turn in a bid to get through them quickly and then had jumped on to the next star cluster.
Since Shelby had the two cruisers out ahead of her, she decided to forgo allowing her own scout cruisers their head at the moment. Instead she had the frigates and corvettes deploy to give the convoy a couple more octaves of speed. When the small warships were settled in and declared ready by their crews, the convoy formed up and jumped together.
Chapter 20
Captain Layafette felt a sense of intense relief as his ship secured from jump in what was considered home territory. “Secure from jump stations. Power down the hyperdrive,” he ordered.
“IFF challenge,” the comm rating said.
“Impressive,” the captain murmured, noting the picket near the jump point. He honestly hadn't expected a ship waiting near the jump point, let alone a destroyer. “Comm, send them our IFF.”
“Yes, sir,” the rating replied.
He'd expected to run into a Gather ship en route; that was why he'd hesitated when he'd run into that loathsome Federation cruiser. But to his surprise this was the first time they were seeing ships of the Tau Gather fleet.
He zoomed in on the nearest ship. It was old. He couldn't make out the class, and he had no idea what size it was with the resolution of the video camera. The ship was painted black with garish pirate crossbones and skulls on its bow. The teeth were decidedly predatory he thought. He wasn't certain if he approved it or not.
“IFF approved. We are welcome to Tortuga space, sir,” the rating reported.
“Very well.”
“A map and course are being transmitted in a moment, Captain,” the rating added.
“Understood,” the captain said with a nod as he zoomed out and then checked CIC's interpretation of the star system. There was always a Tortuga, a pirate capital in each sector except Rho he knew. Normally it was a ship turned into a meeting place and space station. Sometimes it was an asteroid.
Tau's Tortuga didn't disappoint him. It was a hollowed-out aste
roid all right, but it had a ring around the perimeter where ships were docked. He thought at first that was it until he zoomed in. The ships and ring were tiny, which made the potato-shaped asteroid larger than he thought. As it slowly turned, he saw a gaping hole in the side. It wasn't black, however; it was lit with a ring of lights around it. As he watched a ship entered the hollow.
“Big,” he murmured.
“It makes me wonder if anyone in the Gather Fleet has taken over a planet and made it their Tortuga,” a rating murmured, just as the captain noticed that something of a skull had been carved into the face of the rock, with the hollow where the mouth would be. It was far from perfect but typical of his people.
“We're doing that now that the empire has entered the next phase,” the captain replied absently as he studied the CIC readings. He stroked his goatee as he considered how things were going to play out with his report.
He'd had a long time to think about their encounter in Tau-x3301 with the Federation cruiser. It bothered him; he'd heard the Federation was in Pyrax … he'd thought that it had been handled, but apparently not. What had happened? What of the attack … did it go off as planned or not at all? What of the other fleets in Rho? Were they in service or had they been driven off or worse?
Something told him he wouldn't like the answer. Something also told him the vice admiral wouldn't like the questions or answers either, but he had to know.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
Fancy and the other two ships in her reduced force were directed to dock inside the asteroid base. The closer they got to the base the more impressed the captain became. There were a lot of ships around the ring outside, and the ring itself wasn't something someone had slapped together. It had been properly built. There was the occasional sign of routine maintenance work on the ring as well as the ships docked there as well.
Within the base, they saw the rock all around them. They'd had to step down their hyperdrives to allow the ship to be so close and actually within the base. The entrance mouth was twenty kilometers in diameter with stalactites and stalagmites that had to have been sculpted into it. In-between some of the teeth he had also noted point defense and graser turrets that had tracked his ship. So, the teeth weren't only for show he thought.
As they sailed through the interior, they followed floating lane markers and a guiding telemetry. The captain noted a series of docks, lights from habitat modules with windows, and even a series of docking slips with truss segments around them that served as a repair facility.
“There is a fighter bay,” a rating murmured, pointing to a series of fighters with their bellies to space. “I've seen that before. The pilots drop down a chute into the fighter as she warms up for launch. All the mooring lines bring her power and fuel for a fast take off. It's pretty effective; they can be in space in under a minute,” he said.
“As you were,” the CPO murmured to him. The rating ducked, then went back to looking at his station.
From the look of it, the base was a bustling hub of activity. There were tugs floating about as well as the occasional space-suited worker or robot … and a few bodies that lacked a suit. The captain averted his eyes from the frozen bodies.
He'd read about Tau and the other sectors. Tau had been a bright spot for years. They initially had shipped material and prize ships back to Horath every year but rarely got replacement personnel and equipment. From the look of her warships, he could tell they were old; most likely, they lacked proper parts where it counted. If he was right, the ships probably could only hit the high octaves in alpha and or the low octaves in the beta bands of hyperspace. Preying on ships with such limits were rare, therefore, even though your victim might not be much faster than you.
Most of the ships that had been taken early on had been shipped home, but from the numbers he saw, there were plenty that had remained behind. Perhaps they lacked prize crews? Or they didn't have the range? The 90 light year jump to Rho wasn't for the faint of heart he knew now by experience. They'd spent over two years in hyperspace.
For whatever reason, prize ships had stopped being sent to Horath over twenty years ago according to the records. He wondered if they stripped the ships for parts instead … or did they sell them on the black market as whole or as parts?
According to the records, the last ship to have come to Tau from Horath had departed Horath twenty-eight years prior. He wasn't at all sure it had made it. A ship was supposed to be dispatched for each sector every decade at the minimum to keep in touch with the homeworld. Just keeping the war book and encryption books up and in sync was vital. News, videos … you had to tie the community together or it started to diverge and come apart he knew.
Apparently, someone in the Empire hadn't known or they'd focused on Sigma and Pi and the sectors towards the inner galactic core over Tau due to the long jump. Then there was the low speed ships traveled at. They took months in transit with older hyperdrives, sometimes years in jumps between stars to cross a sector like Tau and to cross Rho to get to Horath. A new thought struck him as the helm took orders to stop and allow the tugs to dock and maneuver the ship into her berth. Could he even have outrun the last ship from Horath? That was entirely possible, he thought.
From the look at some of the ships and stored gear, he was pretty certain a lot of the captured gear had been kept for themselves when they realized they were on the ass end of nowhere with little support. He shook his head, imagining the response he would get if he asked. “What would you have us do, starve? Have our ships break down?” He didn't blame them, not in the slightest.
Besides, they were pirates. Pirates were in it for more than just the job and fun. They were in it for the personal profit as well he thought as he felt the ship bump slightly, then the lights lit green. Mooring lines were kicked over and then a patched umbilical tunnel began to trundle out to mate up with the dock of the ship.
“Docking complete, Captain. And we didn't need a harbor pilot to do it,” the XO said triumphantly.
“Very good, XO,” the captain said as he rose. “Page our guests and have them meet us in the starboard lock.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
Doctor Eugen Wilhelm, commander in the service, tugged on his snow-white gloves as he waited patiently for the captain to arrive. He looked over to his partner Doctor Cambri Goethe. She too was in a snow-white uniform. He gave her a look with a critical eye, then nodded once.
“Are we ready?” the captain asked as he arrived in his formal uniform. The captain was dressed in black and gray. He tugged on his jacket cuffs, then checked his fruit salad in a mirror before he nodded to them.
“We're ready,” the doctor said. He started to lead but then stopped when the sentry cleared his throat. He paused as the captain passed him. “Ah yes, protocol. You are senior officer,” the doctor murmured as he followed in the man's wake.
The Tortuga side of the dock was mostly deserted. Mostly except for a single guide who was standing at attention. The man was in pirate garb, something of a tradition to some Gather Fleet units, the doctor thought with a curled lip of disdain.
“Captain …?” the man said.
“Captain Layafette to meet the commanding officer. I believe it is Admiral Ishmael?” the captain asked as he exchanged salutes with the weathered noncom. The guy had flat black skin except for the puckered scars on his face and arms.
“Ah yes. 'Dis' way, sirs, ma'am,” the rating said. “Come, we must not be late,” he said as he motioned them to follow.
Doctor Goethe felt a moment of dismay when she realized there was little or no gravity in the dock. That was to be expected. The dock was inside the rock, and the rock wasn't spinning. They could have added gravity … she felt nausea well up and sternly focused on her breathing and movement to keep herself from puking.
Fortunately, when they entered the interior of the rock, gravity slowly returned. The rating guided them through a warehouse section of the base to a lift. They entered it with
the captain going in last.
Captain Layafette kept his face impassive as he went over his report one more time. Cytheria had been lost, which was a black mark on his record. They'd picked up several dozen survivors, most of them with burns. Many in the engineering section had suffered radiation sickness. Two of those had died. None of the ship's bridge crew nor the chief engineer or flight ops crew had survived.
His eyes absently logged the surroundings passing by in the small porthole window. They had spent years in transit to get to their assignment. Now here it was, and he was starting it on the wrong foot. He regretted having to spend so much time in transit, but he knew his ship had spent less time than others had spent. And they were finally here, in Tortuga, he reminded himself. They are finally going to get busy. He was going to get rich; he could feel it.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
Doctor Goethe saw what looked like a Neoape as the lift car stopped, but the passing was too distant and too quick for her to be sure. When they exited the lift, the guide led them into a series of empty offices, then to a tunnel. “Beware ye who enter here. Tis' forbidden less you have a pass from a pirate lord or captain,” she read the sign out loud. “How quaint,” she said, looking at the captain and Doctor Wilhelm. “Well, I'm glad we're with you, sir,” she said with a nod to the captain.
“Right,” the captain said as he nodded for the guide to show them in.
“Follow the red carpet. Whatever you do, don't look him direct in the eye for too long or he be pluckin' it out, mate,” the guide murmured as he stopped and held the door open with one hand.
“Eye? Don't you mean eyes plural?” Doctor Wilhelm asked.
“No,” the man said curtly before shutting the door behind them.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
The group of officers were silently ushered into what had to be the command center, the pirate lords haven. It was dark, very dark around the outer edge where eyes stared at them from the shadows. It was also open, with high ceilings above and lights that barely lit the red-carpet path ahead of them. As their eyes adjusted, their other senses came forward to help make up the difference. They could smell smoke and odd smells as they made their way along the carpet. Captain Layafette felt a hand on him. He turned to see Doctor Goethe had stumbled on the carpet.