The Terran Privateer

by Glynn Stewart

  “On our way, Major,” the pilot told him.

  #

  The ship was more than a little eerie. All of the lights in the module James Wellesley and his headquarters section boarded were still on. Indicators were flashing, computer screens running—everything aboard the ship was fully functional.

  The air wasn’t breathable, which was a new one on him. Most of the races they’d encountered so far breathed air with an oxygen content within a few points of Earth’s. They had all been able to breathe aboard the last two ships, and their new alien crewmates could breathe aboard Tornado. This ship had a similar oxygen content, but its level of about six other chemicals would be almost instantly lethal to James’s human Special Space Service troopers.

  “Ikel,” Ral, his new Yin soldier, said sharply.

  “What?”

  “Ikel,” Ral repeated. “Carapaced hexapods, need chlorine in their air to survive. Would have been a pure Ikel crew—no one else can breathe their air.”

  “Works for preservation, though,” someone pointed out. “Most bacteria not used to this are going to die immediately.”

  “Brilliant,” James said with a shake of his head. “Charlie is securing the ship. Let’s check on the cargo.”

  Most of the module was cargo space, so finding something to check was easy. A hatch nearby opened up to the hacking software Ki!Tana had given them, and revealed rows upon rows of stacked containers, roughly a meter wide and high by two meters long.

  “What is this?” the Major asked rhetorically. He stepped over to one of the boxes and poked at it. His helmet said it had a power source but nothing significant.

  “Cover me,” he ordered as he identified a lock and a lid. With a sharp strike from the butt of his plasma rifle, he smashed the lock open and pushed the lid up, shining a light in.

  If he hadn’t known he was on an alien ship, he’d have sworn he’d opened a freezer on a ship carrying luxury food to the Mars colony. The contents were neatly packed frozen rows of what he would have sworn were steaks.

  #

  “Food,” Annette repeated to be sure she’d understood correctly. “We captured an entire freighter full of food.”

  “According to the manifest, some of it is luxury edibles that about seven species can eat,” Wellesley told her. “But eighty-five percent of the cargo is frozen meat and vegetables destined to be turned into Universal Protein at the Kimar system.”

  “No wonder they weren’t willing to die for it,” Rolfson announced with a chuckle. “Is it worth anything?”

  “In quantity,” Ki!Tana pointed out. “There are those at Tortuga who will buy it, though at a large reduction from its true value. The ship may be worth more, even lacking the control capsule.”

  “Stolen goods are never sold at a loss,” Annette told her people. “Get her under control, meet up with Lougheed. Once Oaths of Secrecy has control of the ship, return aboard Tornado. We’ll send them on to the rendezvous point to meet Sade and Mosi while we sweep for more prey.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Can any of our people eat the delicacies?” she asked a moment later.

  “If I’m reading this right, the Rekiki can, but nobody else on our crew,” Wellesley told her.

  “Tell them they can take anything that appeals to them. A dozen of them isn’t going to make much of a dent in a shipment of luxury food.”

  “I’ll let them know, Captain.”

  Chapter 25

  Annette had no luck returning to sleep after the brief excitement of the chase, fitfully tossing and turning until morning. With no new reports on her communicator when she gave up, she took extra time turning herself out.

  It would never do for the crew to see the Captain at anything less than her best. The same strictures that would keep her alone while her entire crew paired up around and rationed her smiles meant she would never leave her quarters looking anything less than perfect.

  There was also, she admitted to herself with a smile as she carefully covered the shadows under her eyes, a bit of ego involved.

  As she finished getting ready for the day, her communicator did ping with a note. She pulled the two ends apart and reviewed the note: it was a short thank-you from Tellaki, the leader of the Rekiki aboard Tornado, for allowing them to raid their latest prize’s cargo.

  If she’d received the same note from a human, it would have included an implicit invitation to join them for breakfast. She wasn’t sure if the translator was up to that level of between-the-lines detail, but she also hadn’t met the centaur-like aliens for more than a moment.

  Ki!Tana expected them to leave at Tortuga, but it wouldn’t hurt to get a better feel for them regardless.

  If nothing else, she understood that their race provided a disproportionate portion of the A!Tol Imperial Army’s heavy ground forces. Knowing how they thought would help when the time came to retake Earth.

  #

  Tornado’s mess hall stewards had grown very efficient at swapping out seating arrangements for the cruiser’s new alien crew. Many of the seats had been stolen from Rekiki’s Fang; others were repurposed from what they already had on hand.

  For the Rekiki, a pair of low, wide benches had been carried over from Fang. The four-legged aliens stepped over the bench and then dropped their lower torsos onto it, relieving their legs of much of the burden of carrying their not-insignificant weight.

  “I’ll be joining them,” Annette murmured to the steward who approached her as soon as she entered. The Captain made a point of eating in one of the main mess halls at least one meal a day—it was, if nothing else, a period where she was away from her work computer and its infinite supply of paperwork.

  “I’ll have something sent over,” the steward promised.

  Gently waving off the young man, Annette approached the dozen aliens who had claimed one of the larger tables. The limited number of benches they had for the centaur-like aliens forced a certain degree of clustering, but she suspected that the Rekiki—who’d been an unofficial elite aboard Kikitheth’s ship—would have kept to themselves regardless.

  “May I join you?” she asked as she stepped up to the table.

  Tellaki looked up and bared his teeth in what she thought was an equivalent to a smile. It was a good reminder that the Rekiki were not herbivores. The crocodile-like centaur’s mouth was full of deadly sharp teeth.

  “With pleasure, Honored Captain,” he replied. “We feast on your generosity this morning.”

  Annette grabbed a chair from another table and pulled it up to the end of the table. She wasn’t quite sure what the centaur-like aliens were eating, but she’d have called it “steak and eggs” back home.

  “No one else aboard the ship could eat anything we captured last night,” she pointed out as the steward brought her a plate with a reasonable facsimile of a North American breakfast sandwich—with egg, cheese and bacon all replaced with different treatments of Universal Protein.

  “But you gave us that which could have been sold. We honor your generosity,” Tellaki told her with a slight bow of his head. The upper bodies of the Rekiki looked even less like humans than their lower bodies looked like horses. They were covered the same small, leathery scales as their lower torsos under very human-like uniform jackets, and their faces resembled short-muzzled crocodiles more than anything else.

  “Major Wellesley speaks highly of your performance,” she replied. “It is a small bonus, but all I can give until we reach Tortuga.”

  They had now programmed that translation into their software. No human was going to voluntarily try and pronounce the mouthful of clicks the program had initially transliterated the names as.

  “I understand that you intend to leave us once we reach there,” she continued.

  Tellaki dipped his head, a strange bow-shrug gesture that managed to get across his intention.

  “It is not a slight upon you, Honored Captain,” he finally said. “We served Kikitheth due to ties of blood and honor, even when
she chose a path we would not have. We agreed to trade service for transport from the wreck of her ship. We are vassals, not lords, and will serve a master. It is our way,” he finished, raising a hand to cut off Annette’s objection. “Yours is not the only race in the Imperium to find our way strange.”

  “I warn you now, it will take us several days to sell the cargos and prizes,” Annette told him. “While you are welcome to leave as soon as we make port, I ask that you stay in communication so we can be sure to pay you your share.”

  Tellaki dipped his snout again, blinking rapidly.

  “If we leave by our own choice…”

  “You are still owed payment for your service,” she cut him off. “I promised shares to every sapient who came aboard. I would not have you make me a liar, Tellaki.”

  Several of the other Rekiki started stamping their feet with a sharp hissing sound—that faded as Tellaki flashed his fangs at them.

  They’d been laughing. That was a good sign.

  “Your honor is appreciated, Captain. And unexpected among pirates.”

  “I am a naval officer charged to be a privateer, Tellaki,” she reminded him gently. “Not a pirate, though I’ll admit the difference is academic.”

  “Were you Rekiki, Honored Captain, I would consider swearing you fealty,” he replied, bowing his head. “But I am a Rekiki vassal and must return to my Lady’s family to tell them of her fate. This is duty.”

  “I will take that as an honor,” she told him, bowing her head in turn. “I will not bar you from your duty, Tellaki. I regret that Kikitheth was not prepared to surrender.”

  “She was a Rekiki lord,” the centaur leader said. “She made her choices. I will not judge them.”

  Before Annette could say anything more, her communicator pinged, this time with a live call.

  “Bond,” she answered it.

  “Ma’am, we have another customer.”

  #

  One of the benefits of the—surprisingly reasonable—breakfast sandwich the mess had put together for Annette was that it could be eaten at a brisk walking pace. She dropped the wrapper in a garbage receptacle next to the bridge, quickly wiped off her face and hands with a napkin that followed it into the garbage, and then walked onto her bridge calmly.

  “What am I looking at, people?” she demanded as she scanned the tactical plot and crossed to her seat.

  “Single ship on course from the Tiamo system to the fleet base at Kimar,” Rolfson told her. He’d had the watch but apparently had been holding it down from his regular console. “Moving at point four cee; best guess is a military freighter or high-end civilian ship.”

  “Ki!Tana?” Annette asked, glancing at the alien who’d arrived just after her. “Sounds right to me; any thoughts?”

  “Many ships travel at that speed,” Ki!Tana pointed out. “But few warships. Regardless of the value of the prize, it is no threat to Tornado.”

  “Well, then, we’ve sent both of our scout ships off to the rendezvous point with prizes. I’d hate to show up to the party empty-handed,” the Captain told her crew. “Mister Amandine—intercept course, if you please.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” her navigator confirmed, sliding into his chair literally as she spoke.

  Amandine and Chan had been the last arrivals of her officers, though they were still short a full bridge crew.

  “Lieutenant Commander Chan,” Annette addressed her com officer. “If you would be so kind as to signal general quarters, I think we’ll stay on the taking-no-chances plan.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the woman replied. There was no audible change in the bridge itself, but Annette knew that warning lights and communicators were now going off across the entire cruiser.

  “Shield is up; antimissile suite is charged and active,” Rolfson reported. “One missile prepped for a warning shot. Full salvo ready in the launchers just in case.”

  Annette nodded her acknowledgement and watched as they lunged in pursuit of their newest prey. The whole process was starting to acquire a tone of routine on her bridge. She suspected none of her UESF officers were entirely comfortable with what they were doing, but they did their jobs.

  “Range is one light-minute and closing,” Amandine reported. “They are turning away; we will close the range over the next twenty minutes.”

  “So, they see us. Rolfson: fire the warning shot.”

  The white light of the missile was visible on the regular scanners for barely a second. Beyond that, its light dissipated into the strange gray void of hyperspace and only the anomaly scanner showed the missile gaining on the other ship.

  Finally, the two dots intersected and the missile vanished. As a warning shot, it should have hit the shields on an angle that couldn’t have hit the ship, but it was impossible to be one hundred percent sure.

  “Any reaction?” she asked.

  “Not yet…wait! Shit!” Rolfson snapped. “I have anomaly separation—missiles inbound. I have six birds inbound, hot and closing.”

  “Can we take them?” Annette demanded.

  “Laser suite should get most and the shields could handle the whole salvo,” her tactical officer replied. “Your orders, ma’am? Do we return fire?”

  “Ki!Tana?” she asked. “What kind of ship would have that speed and that armament? Six launchers is light for a warship.”

  “At that speed, she is unlikely to be a warship,” the big alien replied. “She is potentially an armed freighter. The A!Tol Navy uses them for high-value cargos too large for Courier delivery.”

  “That was my first guess,” Annette said calmly as the missiles bore down on them. “Hold fire, Lieutenant Commander,” she told Rolfson. “If all they have is six launchers, we can take their fire while we close and disable them at close range.”

  “That’s risky, ma’am,” he warned.

  “If she is a freighter, she’s carrying something worth protecting,” she replied. “We’ll take the risk.”

  The first missile salvo broke into their visibility zone as she spoke, flashing across the single light-second their lasers could sweep in moments.

  The laser antimissile suite knocked out four and the last two slammed into the shields, sending light flickering around the ship.

  “Shields are holding,” Rolfson reported. “More missiles incoming, Captain.”

  “We’ll take them,” she said quietly. “And hope the cargo is worth it!”

  #

  The armed freighter—if that’s what it was—had a slow cycle time on her launchers. It took Tornado just under twenty minutes to close the range to just outside the visibility bubble around the other ship, in which time their prey only threw twenty-two missile salvos at them.

  It was nerve-wracking for Annette and her crew to simply sit there and watch the missiles coming in, but firing back would likely destroy their target instead of disabling it.

  After the first five salvos, though, Annette at least started to relax. The laser suite Nova Industries had designed and installed on the ship was proving surprisingly effective against even the A!Tol’s unbelievably fast missiles.

  They didn’t stop all of the missiles, but only one salvo got more than two missiles through. The shield metrics Annette watched with one corner of her eye barely flickered, even when three missiles slammed into the screen at once.

  “Kulap, Ki!Tana, I’m impressed,” Annette told her engineer and the alien who’d worked together to install the shield. “I wasn’t sure the shield would hold up to this.”

  “She’ll have something for close range, too,” Ki!Tana pointed out.

  “I know. Rolfson: we’re going have to let her shoot at us, but I want the lasers on whatever close-in firepower she has. Take it out and take it out fast.”

  “Crossing the visibility bubble…now!” Amandine snapped.

  One moment, all they could see was the gray blankness. The next, the shape of their target appeared as if popping through the side of a bubble.

  She was an Imperial ship, all ele
gant lines and flashy technology just like the ones that had invaded Sol.

  “She’s firing! Proton beams on the shield!”

  “Evade!” Annette snapped. “Disable those guns!”

  Two massively powerful proton beams were mounted on either side of the beak-like prow of the armed freighter. Both beams smashed through space, hammering into Tornado’s shield, driving the metrics Annette was watching mad.

  The enemy gunner was good, she noted absently. Amandine tore Tornado through an apparently impossible sequence of maneuvers, but the transport had them pinned.

  “Dialed in! Returning fire!”

  Tornado’s proton beams and lasers returned fire in sequence as the ship spun through Amandine’s maneuvers, each beam slamming into the alien until its shields finally collapsed. The stolen and upgraded proton beams holed the enemy ship’s prow, shattering both enemy heavy beam weapons in a single shot.

  And then their shields went down, overwhelmed by the sheer power of the enemy beam weapons, and missiles flashed across the intervening space.

  The missile suite nailed two but the remainders slammed into Tornado’s compressed-matter armor at almost three quarters of the speed of light. The armored cruiser rang like a bell, safety belts and the interface drives’ inherent inertial absorption preventing any injury to the crew.

  Silence.

  “Hit the launchers with the lasers,” Rolfson said after a moment. “She has no weapons left. Your orders?”

  Annette took a deep breath and slowly released it, studying the image of the elegant, damaged but functional ship a hundred thousand kilometers from her ship.

  “Keep pace with her,” she ordered. “Wellesley, are your teams ready to go?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the Major replied over the intercom. “All shuttles locked and loaded. Do we launch?”

  “Yes, but hold off a minute,” she instructed. “Chan, hail them and order them to surrender.”