Ghosts from the Past (The Wandering engineer Book 7)

by Chris Hechtl

  “And since we have their codes, we can decrypt it. Doing it now,” the communication's rating said with a grin in her voice.

  “Excellent,” the admiral murmured. “Let's hear it.”

  “You're saying you can't get away?”

  There was a long moment. Irons frowned. “Compressing time index now. I've been buffering the conversation for that admiral, so it won't seem so long,” Sprite explained.

  Irons nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “Yes damn it! We're trapped and we don't even have any shuttles!”

  “Sucks to be you,” a malicious voice answered from the planet. “What do you expect me to do about it?” the voice demanded.

  “Not a damn thing apparently,” the frigate replied. “I should aim straight for the planet. If I could I would, I'd bail and aim this thing right on top of your head. Frack. We are so screwed.”

  “Are you certain it is the enemy?”

  “Damn right I'm sure! They haven't sent me an IFF, and they are actively hunting me! I can't see the ships well enough from here. They aren't ours; the emissions are all wrong,” the frigate's officer insisted.

  “So again, what do you want us to do?”

  “Frack.” There was a long pause. “They can't be here long. There was another freighter group ahead of us. This is probably a convoy. I'm going to go dark and wait them out. They can't stay here forever,” the frigate officer said. “They'd better not. I've only got so much life support.”

  “And then what?” the planetary authority asked in amusement.

  “I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. Out here,” the frigate said, cutting the channel.

  “They know we can't stay long, Admiral,” Zen cautioned.

  “They think they know. We've got tankers remember?” the admiral replied with a humorless smile. “For this little spider I'll gladly delay us for a bit. I want to make sure she doesn't endanger any more civilians ever again,” he growled.

  “Aye aye, sir. I fully agree,” Sprite replied. Lobsterman nodded as well.

  “We can't take what we had just heard for granted. But we can do something about her getting away. Put the fighters out in a recon shell. Spread them out in a net with the center of their formation on the frigate's last known course,” he ordered.

  “All of them, sir?”

  The admiral paused to think about it then shrugged slightly. “Hold back the pilots with the least training. A pair, no more than two pair,” Irons said. Sprite nodded. “They can act as a reserve or swap out with someone if they get fatigue. I doubt they will,” he said. She nodded again. “Put recon drones in ahead of them if possible. They can receive the feed from the drones and react faster than we can,” he stated. The AI nodded in reply and started passing on the orders.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  The fleet hunted the frigate down over the course of a full day. They finally caught up with the ship when the manta attempted to go dark. Dita's sharp eyes picked up on the frigate; her engines weren't quite cold. Once she reported it the other fighters homed in on her position. She circled the ship outside her estimated sensor range, moving the recon drone in on ballistic for a closer look. She had strict orders not to do any cowboy stupid shit from Meia and intended to obey. She flinched and gasped when the recon drone was picked up by the frigate, lashed by lidar and then fired upon. Before she could get it out of there it was picked off by the frigate's gun crew.

  But then it was their turn. The pirate was pounced on by the swarming fighters who realized her engines and weapons were still hot while they were going in for a firing run. “We're not going to have much time for this. She's not out of fuel just playing possum. We can't lose her!” Meia said.

  The frigate's point defense opened up, chewing up the fighters and making them scatter. They didn't lose any fighters, but the lead pair had lost their shields. Dita's was one of the lead fighters to get singed. She was pissed.

  “This is Fleet Admiral John Henry Irons to unknown hostile ship. You are outgunned and out maneuvered. In other words, you are surrounded with nowhere to go. Surrender your vessel and we will treat you according to the laws set down by the Federation constitution,” he said coldly. “You have one minute to consider my offer and comply,” he said.

  “This is our answer,” came the curt cold reply. The pirate fired on the retreating fighters once more and they returned fire. Dita's fighter took a glancing hit on her barely restored shields before she veered off. She screamed in fright and pain when her shields went down around her and her fighter shook like a ragdoll. Her right wing was chewed up.

  “My right fuel tank is compromised, I'm leaking fuel. Self sealing the wing isn't working. I'm pumping the remaining fuel into the left wing and fuselage tanks now. I'll have to conserve fuel from now on,” Dita said as her training took over. Meia ordered her back to Maine to recover. The girl was a bit shaken up but wanted to stay in the fight.

  “You heard the order, Ensign. RTB. We'll handle it,” the admiral said calmly into the link in order to reinforce the order. From the numbers around her fighter, she'd have to be very careful getting back to the ship if she started now. He might have to have her divert to one of the closer ships if her fuel problem didn't get resolved soon. Fortunately once the tanks were empty the valve system would shut them down. Flying the fighter would be a pain in the ass with her mass on one side but the computer and pilot could adjust.

  “Now Dita! There is no sense getting killed over something so stupid. We can handle it from here. You did good! Don't blow it now,” Meia insisted.

  “Ensign, this is going to be a long campaign. Fight smart. There will be other targets, other opportunities for a kill,” the admiral said over the fighter channel.

  There was a long pause and then a heavy sigh and double click. “Aye aye, sir,” Dita responded in resignation. Irons watched her fighter's IFF signal blink and then alter her course back to the battlecruiser.

  He'd allowed the fighters to go in instead of sending in the weapons drones because he wanted eyes on the scene. He couldn't control the drones effectively with a time lag, even a couple of second mattered in an engagement. He regretted the decision though; losing a drone would have been a minor inconvenience. But loosing Dita and her fighter would have hit a lot worse.

  Hopefully the lesson would be driven home with the crew and fighter jocks. It was one thing to simulate something, quite another to experience live fire first hand. He was pretty sure Dita would be able to get back into the saddle. She might sound shaken, but she was a good pilot. Her willingness to go back in spoke volumes in that regard.

  He put the thought aside as he watched the plot. Another minute, he thought, watching Meia's fighters cut around, shaping a course to try to get at the stern of the frigate. The frigate was having none of that though; she used her RCS to roll and pitch about, keeping her bow on to the fighter group. She was like a seal watching a shark Irons realized.

  He had wanted the ship alive. Not just the Intel value, but because it was a warship. Another warship, he thought, but one that wasn't worth the lives of his people. “Enough playing around. No more pissing on them. Stick a boot up their ass. Stomp them as hard as it takes,” he ordered.

  “Split up. We'll scissor the son of a bitch,” Meia growled. The fighters broke up into pairs. Meia's wingman Wong stuck close to Coglin's pair.

  The remaining fighters hit the frigate again from long range as the ship began to power up her drive for a belated getaway. By that time though their own frigate and Mary Apple were upon her. Marry Apple fired her main gun tearing her stern apart. She tumbled, a dead stick.

  “Like stepping on a spider,” Captain Randolf said grimly.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Once they were certain she was dead, marines were dispatched in a shuttle. They boarded the darkened tumbling ship. Gunny reported back a few minutes later; there were no survivors. “That last hit killed her inertial dampeners just as her drive was kicking in, Admiral. It's a mess in
here,” Padre said. They could hear someone else retching over the open channel. The admiral grimaced in sympathy. “The results aren't pretty but at least the bastards are dead,” Gunny Rutledge reported.

  “Yeah, dead and splattered all over the place,” another marine said. “I ain't cleaning this shit up,” he growled.

  “She's not worth salvaging, sir,” Appleseed reported, feeding them the latest images of the ship. Irons nodded.

  “Send a prize crew over once tugs have stabilized her. Pull her computer banks totally. Have Intel go through the ship from stem to stern,” he ordered. By now they knew what to look for. Anything and everything pretty much, from magazines to personal journals. Even articles of clothing and photos would be bagged.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Communications got a hold of the running freighter just as she noted the battle going on in her wake and stopped running. She drifted for a long moment before returning their call with a rather relieved reply.

  “The Irons?” a Veraxin voice asked. “Who am I then?”

  “If this is the captain of the Lieandra and you haven't changed captains since we last met, I'd say this is Captain Yan'Kelly. You are a Veraxin; you have a purplish tint on your back and favor your right rear leg. You said you injured it, and it never fully grew back even after several moltings,” the admiral replied mildly.

  “Admiral, it is so good to hear your voice,” the Veraxin clacked a few minutes later. “I owe you a bottle of my best. More than that.”

  “I thought you'd be happier to see my ships,” the admiral quipped with a smile. “No need. But if you want to share that bottle with me, I'm all for it.”

  “I do indeed, Admiral. We have a lot to catch up on,” the bug replied.

  “Good. You can rendezvous with us in a moment. I'll have the ensign send you the coordinates,” he said, and nodded to Ensign Poseidon. She nodded back and took over the conversation.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Within an hour the teams were on board the drifting hulk. The marines gratefully made way for the navy crew, returning to their shuttle. The prize crew knew their business; they pulled her computers and then vacuumed the ship for any additional Intel. When they were finished they bagged samples and images of the crew and then left. The tugs towed her to Carnegie for salvage. The factory ship's crew and bots would strip the hulk of anything worth rebuilding and then the remainder would be fed piecemeal into the waiting maw of the factory ship for recycling. The parts would be studied, refurbished, and then distributed to the fleet.

  Defender, Sprite, and the other AI went through the Intel debrief with Race Bannon and other Intel people. The collective eyes discovered Briev had a treaty with Horath. They put the pieces together then reported their grim findings to the admiral and the senior staff.

  “We should invade, sir. Take the bastards down to rubble,” Major Gustov insisted. “Give my troops a day to plan it, and we'll take the planet. I've got the powered armor warmed up and ready to go,” he said.

  “No,” the admiral said, shaking his head. He saw the disappointment etched on more than one face. He shook his head again. “No. I don't want to be bogged down here.” He said, eying them. “For now they'll keep. We'll be back for them.”

  “They aren't going anywhere,” Sprite said, backing him up. The major grunted but then nodded.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  CIC reported finding an ion trail from a series of ships that headed across the system in a least course time to the Triang jump point. One of the groups was definitely Convoy 3, but they had also detected other ships following in their wake. They matched the ion spectrographic signature to some of the contrails that had been left in Kathy's World.

  “Not good,” Sprite observed as the admiral finished reading the report. He grunted but didn't say anything; he just set the tablet aside.

  “Knowing Horatio, he's got some sort of escort on the convoy. At least he'd better have one,” the admiral said finally. “How much though,” he shook his head.

  “So, we get to ride to the rescue?” Sprite asked.

  “It seems that way, Commander.”

  “High ho silver and away!” Sprite said.

  “Cute.” He shook his head at her whimsy. “Just hope we're not too late,” he growled.

  “Admiral, you and I both know last minute saves only happen in the movies.”

  “Except the rare occurrences like in real life. Say B101a1?” the admiral reminded her. She cocked her head. He shrugged. “Okay, so it may have been a fluke. I don't know. Something though tells me that the universe works in mysterious ways.”

  “As long as the Murphy god doesn't put in an appearance we may return the favor,” Sprite said.

  The admiral scowled. “Just bringing the name up is bad luck, Commander,” he shook his head.

  “Sorry.”

  “Too late now I suppose,” he sighed.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  The fleet met up with Lieandra two days later. When the Lieandra pulled up to a stop alongside Maine, Irons grinned. Apparently the good captain couldn't wait to come over. He was right; a shuttle soon debarked from the freighter on course for his ship.

  “They seem excited to see us, sir,” Lobsterman reported.

  “Clear them for landing in boat bay 1. Have the bosun lay in a side party for them. Keep it brief and light since they are civilians,” he ordered.

  “Aye, sir. The bosun has it in hand.”

  “I expected she would,” the admiral replied with a nod. He watched the shuttle dock with a professional air, then the Veraxin and his small delegation exit the craft. They seemed amused by the side party, or at least the humans did. The camera angle was bad; Irons couldn't read the Veraxin's body language well.

  “I'll meet them in the flag wardroom,” he said to Lobsterman. The ship's AI nodded. Irons noted the ship's AI had an avatar on the boat bay deck as well. He politely indicated they should follow their young guide, a midshipman. The midshipman frowned, then froze as the AI uploaded their destination to him. He turned and nodded to the ensign, then nodded again to the delegation. “If you'll follow me, sirs, madam?” he invited. The civilians nodded and followed in his wake.

  When they got to the flag wardroom Irons snorted at the sight of the bottle in the Veraxin's claws. He'd been serious. He nodded to them. “Good to see you all. I know it hasn't been smooth sailing, but ...” he shrugged.

  “Sir, you are a sight for sore eyes! We are sure grateful the spirits of space directed you here and you showed up in time, sir!” Captain Yan'kelly said as they shook hands. Or hand and true hand Irons thought in amusement.

  “I heard you've had some adventures. In Kathy's World as well? We just came from there,” the admiral said.

  “Protodon actually. We only passed through Kathy's World. We transmitted a warning to them, but I'm afraid they may have missed it. But you said you passed through the system? Does that mean it's been liberated?”

  “The people on the planet managed to turn the tables on the Horathians. They even captured their ship. It's a long story ...”

  “And I've got just the thing for us to use to break the ice,” the Veraxin said, hefting the bottle. “I think you know chimp McAdams and Miss Niles correct?”

  “I never had the pleasure though I believe Commander Sprite had,” the admiral said with a polite smile as he shook each of their hands. McAdams was the Lieandra's chief engineer. Niles was a bridge officer, no purser he thought. That meant something was up.

  “I'm guessing this isn't just a courtesy call?” Sprite inquired, appearing on the table.

  All eyes turned to her. “It's good to see you again, Commander,” Miss Niles said with a nod her way.

  “We're in trouble,” McAdams said, getting right to the point. “We seriously stressed our systems running from that pirate. We're also almost out of fuel again,” the chimp said with a grimace. He shot a guilty look at Miss Niles. The human female was pursing her lips, clearly unhappy abo
ut being upstaged. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “No, it's fine,” she said with a tone of voice that clearly indicated it wasn't. The chimp winced; he knew he was in for it later.

  “We can certainly hook you up for fuel. Parts as well,” the admiral replied with a nod.

  The chimp sighed in relief.

  “If you would like to discuss it, we can do so ...” Sprite said, indicating an ante room nearby. Miss Niles nodded.

  “We need medical supplies too if you have it. We have several injured on board ...” the woman said, following the AI.

  “Send us the list. Doctor Che will lend a hand with any injured you have,” Sprite said as the door closed.

  The Veraxin swiveled an eyestalk to watch his officers go then another to Irons as he got up and went to the pantry. His steward was still in the captain's area so he gathered up a couple of crystal glasses and then came out with them.

  “I never did get a chance to thank you for carrying the warning like you did. You did excellent work there. And you also did good work keeping the cargo I sent along safe and secure,” the admiral said, setting the glasses down.

  “We aim to please, Admiral,” the Veraxin replied, popping the cork with some difficulty. “This is T'Clock rum. I hope you don't mind.”

  “Not at all,” the admiral said with a dismissive hand. He sent a signal to his implants to filter the excess sugars out along with the alcohol. T'Clock rum was potent and could give anyone a stomach ache right after a sugar high or a sugar coma. He watched politely as the Veraxin poured each of them a shot.

  “To your health and long life,” the Veraxin said, lifting his glass in salute to the officer.

  “To the Federation,” the admiral said, lifting his glass in response. “May we raise her kicking and screaming out of the ashes,” he said.

  The Veraxin clucked in amusement. “Hear hear,” he echoed. They each took a sip.

  “Wow, thick,” Irons said. It was practically honey. Mead, he thought. “And now, I think you either want to get me drunk to ask for something more or ...”