“But Captain, Operators are dangerous. How can we know he ain’t here to kill us all? Take our ship and win some more points for his subs?” Rego scratched behind his ear like a dog with ticks. Which was most likely a real issue for him.
A new recruit, Lordon, asked, “Why can’t we just lock him up in the brig? There are more of us than him. We could overpower him easily.”
Everyone on the bridge started snickering or laughing nervously. A pack of pirates were no competition for a fully weaponized Operator.
Captain Gore thought about Rego’s question. It was possible they were targeted by a Corporation for termination. They tended to shy away from transports belonging to the Corporations, but sometimes they just didn’t know who owned the ships they targeted. And sometimes, the meal was just too tempting to turn down, even if they did know who owned it.
“I locked his weapons up while he be on me ship. Does that make you more comfortable?” Gore peered over his shoulder at Rego who flinched and shuffled under the intense stare. “Lily-livered pansy,” Gore mumbled.
“Aye, that’ll work for me. Guys?” Rego looked to his fellow mates and they all took a few steps away from him. It was evident that none of them wanted in on this discussion. They might be willing to discuss mutiny, but only when the Captain wasn’t around. Rumor had it that the Captain could shoot a laser from his eye and cut a man down before they even knew what hit them. No one had seen it, at least no one who had lived to tell the tale. But they all believed the hype and didn’t want to cross their Captain.
Wyko spoke up, “Cap’n, as long as we get paid, I’ll follow ye to the ends of the worlds!” A few of the men nodded in agreement.
That settled that, but the Captain still worried about the safety of himself, his ship, and then his crew with the Operator on board. That guy was seriously dangerous. He couldn’t let Throd just walk around this ship.
He also knew at least half of his ship was still considering mutiny, no matter what they said. The only course of action now would be to deliver his passenger and cargo safely to the Mufesio System and hightail it out of there with the gold and enough Umbra points to level up. If he could get his men paid and maybe some entertainment, just maybe they would calm down again. Or so he hoped.
Chapter 3
Throd stripped the sheets from the grungy bed and shook as much of the dirt and bugs out of the bedding as he could. He’d gone through two decades of ugly fighting and dirty living during the Corporate Pacification Wars, but he’d never seen a ship as filthy, or staffed by a crew, as degenerate as the Black Pearl. “The things I do for the outfit,” he grumbled as he made the bed.
He checked the straps on the cargo vault, then sat back on his bed. The arrhythmic rumble of the ship’s engines vibrated through the bulkheads as it pulled away from the port. Throd hunkered down on the bed to wait out the shuddering escape from orbit.
When the ship’s vibrations no longer threatened to shake his teeth out of their sockets, Throd stood and paced the cargo hold the pirates had converted into a makeshift stateroom. He stroked the sides of the massive cargo vault as he passed it, and whispered, “Soon. Just hang in there.”
His implant’s secure comms channel crackled to life. “Underway?”
Heck’s voice sounded like it was coming from right behind him, which meant Zotz had managed to patch Throd’s implant into the Black Pearl’s communications grid. The big man breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be isolated on this trip. What he was doing was hard enough; not having support from the rest of his outfit would’ve made it unbearable.
Throd took a moment to survey the area. Satisfied there were no cameras in his room, he was free to talk. “We’re good. This bucket of bolts is slow, so I don’t know when we’ll get there. How’s Dragora holding up?”
The Metal Rats starship had taken a beating during their escape from Rivicle Base. A lucky shot had punched through the shielding on her belly and damaged her power core. This off the books mission was Throd’s attempt to fix that.
Zotz broke into the channel. “We’ve got enough go juice to get to you, but not much more than that. Heck won’t even let us take hot showers and we’re eating out of cans until this gets taken care of.”
Throd chuckled. “You got it better than me. I’m afraid these bedbugs are going to eat away the last bits of meat on my bones. Anyway, save your power. I’ll be in touch.”
The channel died with a hollow pop, and Throd went to work.
The captain had demanded Throd stay in his room, but that wasn’t going to happen. This mission required preparation, and he couldn’t do it from inside this dingy little cell.
Throd checked the door. It wasn’t locked. Good start, he thought, and slipped into the passage.
Outside the converted cargo hold, the ship was a noisy disaster. Hydraulic fluid trickled down the walls from patched pipes, and the passageway lights guttered like candles. Even the electrical conduits were a mess; when he popped one of the plastic tubes open, Throd found it overflowing with mite carcasses and a stinking grease that clung to his metal fingers like hot tar. “Animals,” he grunted, and wiped his fingers against the gritty wall to scrub off the worst of the mess.
Saving this slop bucket was going to be more trouble than it was worth, but Throd was determined to do what he could. If he was going to put the pirates in danger, no matter how much they deserved it, it was his responsibility to give them a fighting chance.
He found the indent on his left bicep and depressed it with his right thumb. The casing on his cybernetic arm swung open, revealing an insulated pocket containing a cloth-wrapped packet. Throd dug the contents out of his arm, and closed the panel. “All right, you scumbags, let’s see if we can save your worthless hides.”
There were four devices inside the cloth. Throd took the first one and pressed its base against the bulkhead, near the ceiling. A powerful magnet secured the device and a pair of black wire leads sprang loose from its base.
Throd ran the leads down the wall to the power conduit he’d opened, and pinched the clips on their ends through a low voltage power cable inside the conduit. It took him a few tries to make a good connection through the grease, but a faint click and then a high-pitched beep from the device told him it was powered up.
He arranged the rest of the devices in the passageway, hiding them from casual observation but leaving them with clear arcs of fire. When the shitan hit the fan, lives depended on the tiny weapons taking out the bad guys.
His thoughts wandered while he worked. He’d thought for sure Gore would recognize him the moment they met. How could he forget that, Throd wondered, The scruffy old pirate’s memory must be as decrepit as his ship. Then he did his best to pretend he didn’t care the pirate captain had forgotten him.
Satisfied the passage outside his makeshift room was secured, Throd headed to the ladder up to the next deck. It’d be tricky, but securing as many decks as possible would make the end of this mission safer for everyone. He eased up the ladder, careful to keep his heavy boots from clanging against the metal rungs, and twisted the door’s handle.
Locked.
A cold, bright anger flared in Throd’s mind. These filthy pirates thought they could keep me locked below like a criminal? His fists clenched into metal hammers, ready to pound the door open and crack a few skulls to make his point.
The rage crumbled and decayed into self-loathing. If he had Zotz’ skills, he could pick the lock and pop the door open without anyone the wiser. Even Hive, a ruthless killing machine with no other talents, could interface with the door and have it opened in a blink.
But, Throd, with his metal arms and legs and integrated weapon systems, was only good at destroying things. Twenty years of military service and another ten as an Operator had drilled that into his thick skull, and it was a hard truth to shake.
“Enough,” Throd whispered to himself. He relaxed his fingers, let his breath leak out in a slow, steady stream, and returned to his quarters.
He’d done the best he could without alerting the pirates to his intentions. If something went sideways because they’d locked him up, that was on them.
Chapter 4
“Ye’ll have nothing to worry about, the Operator is locked below decks.” Captain Gore stated as he walked with purpose to his command chair on the bridge. “He won’t be gettin’ out of there easily, and if he does, we’ll know it.”
“I still don’t like it Cap’n.” Rego was just itching for a fight. Boring cargo delivery missions always got him in a foul mood.
“Sail Ho! Cap’n, there’s a Mechanurge ship coming upon us, fast!” Wyko screeched.
“Aaarrrggghhhhh, well, don’t just sit there; bring ‘er round!”
“Where? We can’t outrun the Mechanurge!” Wyko cried.
“Is it a cog? Or Man O War?” the Captain asked.
“It’s a cog.” In pirate lingo, a cog was a smaller ship that was usually assigned to a larger one, it could have been a transport or scout ship for an enemy.
“Pull out the chase gun and make sure dead men tell no tales, or dead robots in this case.” Gore ordered.
The Mechanurge were Awakened robots. They could think for themselves and reason. Some ships carried worker drones, similar to a worker bee. They had their essence tied to the mother ship as though she were their queen bee. Most of the larger ships carried a few Awakened, but the vast majority of those ships were full of worker drones, programed to increase the technology of the collective. They demonstrated zero emotions and had no individual thought processes.
Many centuries ago their original creator made them to worship the sun goddess, Deeana. When their whack-job of a creator died the original drones Awakened and decided that humans were too frail and couldn’t worship their deity properly so they began to systematically kill any humans they came into contact with. Proper worship took decades, if not a century, to learn. At least according to their programming.
Over the generations, humanity has fought back and at one time almost eradicated the universe of these self-righteous killer bots, but they found a way to reproduce and grow stronger. Now, they have learned to stay away from larger groups of humans and only attack smaller ships or outposts when they have calculated a high percentage of success.
A scout ship resembled the Raptor class assault ships the ruthless Corporations favored, but the Mechanurge ships were smaller and had less armor than the other ship. However, they did carry almost as much firepower in their laser cannons which were more precise than any other class of ship out there.
In this situation, the pirate ship should be no threat to them and easy prey. The scout ships were fast and could outmaneuver some of the standard passenger or cargo vessels. If the Black Pearl had been in tip top shape, the scout ship would never have gotten so close. Much like their hygiene, the pirates neglected maintenance on their ship as well.
The Black Pearl shot the scout vessel along its broadside and the Captain watched as one piece of ablative armor came off the superior vessel. The minute damage was not enough to keep them from getting closer and closer. Even without heavy armor, it could still withstand an assault from one broken-down pirate ship.
“Wyko, you inbred good for nothing, bilge-sucking excuse for a pirate! You have to stop it before it can report back to its mother ship. We might as well walk our own plank if the Harvester shows up!” Spittle flew from the captain’s mouth as he issued order after order to destroy and disable the scout ship.
“Rego, I’ll be sending ye to Davy Jones’ locker meself, if ye don’t get their communications fried! These smaller ships are never far from thee main ship. Navigator! Can ye see a Harvester yet?” The captain couldn’t remember the name of his navigator, he won him from a card game on some desolate outpost. Gore had been hitting the grog heavily that night and the next thing he knew, he had an underage, indentured servant on his ship. But he sure was good with the math. The lad was the only one on the ship who could plot a course properly.
“Deegan, for the millionth time, its DEEGAN! And yes cap’n. If we don’t get out of here quickly, they’ll catch us.” The young man couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen years of age. He had spent the past three years working with this crew and making sure they stayed clear of any enemy, Mechanurge or military. Until now.
The Black Pearl had originally been built to withstand heavy fire, it was always intended to be a pirate’s ship. And over the years she had seen too many battles to record. Sometimes she was fixed up properly and sometimes they used duct tape to keep things moving. Her last overhaul had been many galactic standard years ago and the captain was regretting not taking advantage of the pirate engineer he met up with last year who had offered to fix up the Pearl, for a hefty price of course.
Just then, the shipped lurched to the port side and one of the panels in front of Wyko started smoking and sparking. Wyko pushed a button and the console was quickly extinguished. However, he lost a prime opportunity to hit the scout ship where it would have hurt them the most. Now their most exposed spot had been turned away from the Pearl.
Chapter 5
“Cap’n, the Mechanurge is approaching swiftly! We can’t outrun or outgun ‘em. Son of a biscuit eater! They’re getting ready to deploy their gravitic funnel!” Rego yelled and looked back at his captain with wide eyes, just waiting for an order with some sort of fancy maneuvers that would save them from the unholy robots bent on the destruction of the human race.
“Keep firing! Balls to the walls men, all guns blazing. Don’t give up now! I wanna take as many of those scallywags with us as possible before we meet Davy Jones!” The captain said in his attempt at a rallying speech.
The enemy Harvester ship was within reach and fired three volleys, two of which skidded along the Black Pearl’s starboard side, scraping away shards of ablative armor and triggering a dozen screeching alarms as the ship’s repair systems struggled to plug the micro breaches in the hull. Anything, and anyone, that wasn’t tied or latched down, fell abruptly to the ground, including the fuzzy red dice the captain kept hanging from the corner of his display.
The pirates continued to fire upon the Harvester but they didn’t do more than scratch the giant ship that resembled a butterfly in shape and color.
The gravitic funnel caught them in its snare and made it impossible to move. They were sitting ducks while waiting for the massive craft that was more like the size of a small city, than a ship, to come eat them up. The Mechanurge were known for taking human ships apart and adding them to their own ship. Some looked like striking sculptures of metal and glass, while some belonged in the galactic trash heap.
“Pirate ship Black Pearl. This is the Mechanurge Harvester Zolchur. Prepare to be boarded. Your Captain is wanted for aggression against our beloved goddess Deeana. For his crimes, he will be destroyed as will the rest of your ship. Compliance is required.” The message by the emotionless drone was heard through all speakers on the Pearl. Not a single person on the bridge knew what to make of it, except the Captain. All eyes and mouths were open wide.
Every person stared unbelieving at the Captain and Wyko asked, “Captain, wha’d ya do?”
“None of yer business, now keep firing and evading.” Years ago, before Gore became a pirate, he was in the military. His unit was charged with stealing tech from a Mechanurge mining outpost. He thought they had destroyed all bots and any signs of who was responsible for the mission.
“That’s where I know’em from!” The Captain yelled and slapped his leg. “That scurvy dog set us up! Rego and Wyko, keep trying to fight off those flying pieces of bilge-suckers while I take care of our passenger who set us up.” The Captain left the bridge and went below decks to discuss this situation with his old friend, who he thought was dead.
Before he could make it to the lower decks, the ship rocked and rolled then suddenly stopped. Like a pinball rolling back and forth between the flappers of an ancient earth game. The captain realized they had been caught
by the Harvester’s Smart Grapnels.
Then a loud clang sounded as the boarding clamps held the small pirate ship in place, just waiting to have her hull ripped open like a can of beans.
Vengeance never forgot her lovers, and she had come calling to cash in her chips.
Chapter 6
Throd slapped a canister of ammunition into the side of the autocannon he’d assembled from the parts hidden in the cargo pods of his cybernetic legs and leaned back against the bulkhead. The sound of boarding clamps attaching to the Black Pearl was all the signal he needed to know the last stage of his plan was in motion.
The door wrenched open with the squeal of rusted hinges and the Captain stomped through. His mechanical eye swiveled wildly and his fist was clenched around a blunt-nosed room sweeper. “You —“
The Captain’s mouth dried and his words died on his lips when he caught sight of Throd’s massive weapon aimed at his head.
“This is fine.” Throd said. “This is all fine. If you cooperate, you’ll be rich. If you don’t, you’ll be dead. Cooperate and you’ll get a very large bonus along with your level up you so desperately need.”
Gore paced back and forth in front of the door. “I should’ve killed ye back then. I should’ve made sure ye and the others were finished before I left.”
Years ago, he was ordered to leave behind several of his crew because there was no time to rescue them. Command said that their life sign indicators had flat lined. They were all dead, and if Gore wanted his remaining team members to survive, he needed to get off the Mechanurge moon before they were caught.
Throd’s stern face broke into a wide grin. “You should have, but you didn’t. Just like you should have done the right thing instead of leaving us there.”
Operation: Pirates vs Drones: Gamer's Universe Page 2