A sudden rush of orange flame from a pirate gunport gave hint to their first success. Liam zoomed in and saw that the square port was ragged, smoke racing outward into space for a few seconds before a still blackness settled over the wound.
“They’ve lost gun number two,” he reported.
“And eleven,” Highcastle echoed triumphantly.
The pounding of cannon fire continued as both Daring and the pirate made small maneuvers to disrupt each other’s aim. As they drifted ever closer, though, the required position shifts became larger and more difficult. More cannonballs hit their targets. Liam staggered and grabbed his console as a shudder rippled the entire deck.
“We’ve lost guns three and four,” Sky shouted. “Took ’em both out with a single shot!”
Liam looked up at Riverton. She steadied herself in her chair and nodded.
“Maintain broadside: prepare for boarding.”
“Beat to quarters,” Liam ordered, gesturing for Sky to follow. “Broadside boarding stations.”
As Liam raced through the aft door of the bridge he heard Brown sounding the drums through the ship and repeating the order. Gripping both handrails, he flew down the ladder to One Deck, and into a haze of gunpowder and smoke. Up ahead he could see two sailors pressing emergency airtight panels against the twisted starboard bulkhead of the main passageway. Guns three and four were beyond that tortured metal, Liam knew, destroyed along with their crew by a lucky pirate shot. The smoke was streaming toward cracks in the bulkhead and a sailor smacked down yet another airtight patch as his partner nailed it into place. Around them, other sailors still passed fresh ammunition along the passageway, sliding it through the box-sized airlocks to the gun crews firing on the other side. The constant thunder of cannon fire shook the deck.
Liam steadied himself against a sudden pitch, then dropped to Two Deck. Staggering forward along the main passageway, he saw his boarding team assembling midships. Virtue was already in padded armor, directing the issuance of weapons.
“Get the boats ready,” he ordered Sky as she stumbled up behind him.
Virtue handed over the last weapons belt and turned to knuckle her forehead. “Boarding party ready, sir!”
“We’re going in hot,” Liam said to the assembled team. “We’ll take out the gunnery teams first, then move on the bridge together. Their masts are stowed, so propulsion can wait.”
The deck shook, throwing Liam against the bulkhead. He pulled himself up, helping Virtue to her feet as another series of thumps rattled the deck. They felt different from the continual cannon pounding, but Liam knew this wasn’t the time to question. He needed to get those boats loaded and over to the pirate ship. Sky emerged from one of the airlocks.
“Both boats ready,” she reported, stepping clear to make room for the first sailor to swing into the airlock tube.
“Board the boats,” Liam ordered.
Another blast rocked the entire deck. Among the clatter of tumbling bodies Liam heard a distant scream, then the whoosh as a fireball exploded out of one of the airlocks. The flames washed over him for a second before disappearing, but behind them came the ominous rushing of wind.
“Breach!” he shouted.
Sky grabbed the airlock hatch and slammed it shut, silencing the roar and stilling the air. Liam climbed over his fallen sailors to help Sky seal the opening. Through the porthole he caught a glimpse of the ship’s boat tumbling free, broken in half and still sparking as it tore apart.
The two sailors manning the other boat suddenly appeared through their airlock, scrambling back into the safety of the ship.
“Enemy ships,” one shouted. “Port side!”
“Shut that hatch!” Virtue shouted, climbing forward to help secure the second airlock.
Moments later, the hatch creaked as pressure disappeared on the far side. Virtue was frozen in shock, staring through the porthole. Liam moved to her side, looking through the cracked glass to where the second boat was spinning away madly as it broke apart.
“Damnation,” he hissed. He ran for the nearest comms station and punched up the command station.
“Captain,” came Riverton’s voice through the scratchy circuit.
“Captain, XO,” he gasped. “We’ve lost both boats. Boarding is impossible.”
“You lost them?” The shock in her voice filled him with a sudden dread.
“Smashed by enemy fire.” The deck shook again under a series of impacts. Liam remembered that they were on the port side, the opposite side from where their quarry lay. He gripped the handset tightly. “What’s going on up there?”
“We’re being flanked.” She broke off to issue orders.
The hull shook as another blast struck the ship. Liam heard only hissing on the circuit.
“XO,” Riverton said suddenly, “are you still there?”
“Here, Captain.”
“Deploy to repel boarders,” she snapped.
The circuit went dead. Liam stared at the panel for a second, still processing her order. Boarders. As in, pirates were going to board them. He struggled to hang up the phone, steadying himself against the bulkhead. Fear gripped his gut like an iron weight. Pirates were outside the hull, looking to break in. He scanned the passageway, and his own crew still sprawled across the deck from the impacts. They hung on as another series of blasts rocked the ship. Riverton said they were being flanked—that meant more than one enemy ship. How many more? The fear weighed him down anew, but he’d felt it before, and he knew how to use it. Fear could fuel action if directed properly, and it was action that was needed now. His mind reengaged to process the new situation: it was still a battle, just now on his ship instead of theirs. He pushed himself up and breathed deeply. So be it, pirate scum.
He spun to face his crew, who were still picking themselves up from the deck.
“Chief Sky,” he ordered calmly, “we need to deploy to repel boarders.”
Sky stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Her expression didn’t falter as she surveyed the sailors in front of her.
“We’ll need four teams,” she said, gesturing to separate the boarding party into rough groups, “split fore and aft on Two and Four Decks. Virtue, get the other medic from sickbay, get yourself a medikit, and split your section between the defense teams.”
“We need to brief the prisoner guards,” Liam said, his mind racing through all the needs of his ship. “And get reinforcements to the bridge.”
“I’ll do the guards,” Sky snapped. “Sir, you guard the bridge.”
Liam nodded, grabbing two extra braces of pistols. Another series of concussive blasts rocked the deck. He took a few steps toward the aft ladder, noting Sky already in motion. But the rest of the boarding team were still staring in shock, some not even on their feet.
“You heard the assaulter,” he roared at the sailors. “Man your stations, and defend this ship!”
He grabbed Virtue by the arm and hustled her down the passageway. Through two airlocks and they reached sickbay, where Sublieutenant Templegrey and Able Rating Song were bracing themselves against the steady thunder of battle. As Virtue collected two medikits, he handed one of the pistol sets to Templegrey.
“We’re repelling boarders and all three medics are needed forward. You can remain here and defend sickbay”—he nodded to the pistols—“or you can come with me to the bridge.”
Templegrey’s pale skin was a sickly shade of gray. But she knew she was being watched by the common sailors and pulled herself up to her full height, wrapping the pistols around her white medical frock.
“I will remain at my station, sir,” she said.
Liam steadied her shaking hands and fastened the buckle for her. She looked down at the weapons as if they were parasites crawling up her hips.
“Stay down,” he said quietly. “Our sailors might bring wounded to you, so look before you shoot. But if you’re sure, shoot to kill. You’ve got four shots in each pistol—make them count.”
She claspe
d her hands together to still the trembling.
“Yes, sir.”
Liam moved to the door, where Virtue had already dispatched Song and was hovering. She looked up at him, almost expectantly. He stared back, suddenly aware that they were alone. The entire ship lurched, throwing him against the bulkhead. Her armored body crashed against his. She righted herself as the deck vibrated again, collecting the medikit she’d dropped. She looked up at him again.
“Sir . . .”
There was no time for this, but he couldn’t tear himself away. He stared down at her, feeling her hand grip his arm as the ship rocked again. He leaned toward her.
“Amelia, I . . .”
The clang of an airtight door opening interrupted him. He straightened as Virtue’s hand dropped away and she called out to the pair of armed sailors. She tossed one of the medikits down the passageway to them, then glanced back over her shoulder at him one last time.
He swallowed the words he wanted to say, and the surge of emotion he hadn’t expected. “Good luck, Amelia.”
Her normally sparkling eyes were dark with fear as she gave him a look he couldn’t deciper. “And to you, sir.”
She hurried away, following the sailors. Liam grabbed the rungs of the ladder and hauled himself up the two decks to the bridge.
Riverton was still in her command chair, but ramrod straight as she barked orders for maneuvering. Even as he approached her station, Liam could make out the grim tactical situation; three vessels now swarmed Daring.
“Captain, XO. My team is divided into four squads to cover the main airlocks, and I’ve maintained the two guards at the brig.” He handed her the last brace of pistols, gasping to catch his breath. “You might want these, ma’am, just in case.”
“I’m trying to steer us clear,” she said, ignoring the weapons, “but they’re surrounding us.”
Liam examined her tactical screen more closely. The pirate ship with which Daring had been exchanging broadsides was pulling back, but two new ships were even now retracting masts and starting to pound Daring from ahead and behind. Riverton was turning the ship to open her broadsides against one of them, but the enemies were quick.
“Where did they come from?” he asked.
“It’s that pair of fast couriers,” she said. “They must have been watching, ready to support if the initial attack didn’t go well.”
“I guess we’re not the only ones disguised as merchants.”
“And now they’re launching boats against us.”
Liam saw the symbols on the display, revealing no fewer than eight small boats separated from their mother ships and approaching Daring from all sides.
“Propulsion,” Riverton barked. “Extend top and bottom masts, full sail!”
“Ma’am, what are you doing?”
“I need to get our top and bottom masts extended,” she hissed in frustration, “to get some speed.”
Even at full thrusters, Liam could see Daring wasn’t moving fast enough to leave the boats behind. It was only a matter of time before they caught up to her.
And then pirates would be aboard their ship.
“The sails will be shredded before we can clear,” Liam warned. “We’re going to lose propulsors if they try and re-rig during battle.”
Riverton’s stern expression faltered, just for a moment. She stepped down from her chair and took the brace of pistols still hanging in Liam’s hand. As she buckled them on, she leaned in very close to him. Her dark eyes burned with something close to panic. He’d seen it too many times in battle, when noble officers truly grasped their own mortality.
“I welcome your advice, Subcommander Blackwood,” she said, with barely a quaver in her voice.
“We can’t outrun them,” Liam replied, mind racing as he surveyed the battle again. “And with cannon only we can’t outgun them. I recommend we engage with military weapons.”
“If we do,” she said, “our identity is compromised.”
“If that many pirates get aboard us,” he countered, “we could lose everything. Ma’am, I assess our ability to repel that many boarders as unlikely.”
“If I destroy those ships, we lose any hope of gaining intelligence from them.”
She was too focused on the big picture, he realized furiously, and was ignoring the deadly reality right in front of them. He stared into her dark eyes, realizing with sudden clarity that for all her intelligence, for all her cold and decisive manner, she was inexperienced and needed his help. And at least, unlike the other fops, she knew when to ask for it.
“And it would be unfortunate,” he agreed quietly. “But we can always start over.”
She braced herself against the chair as the deck rocked again. The two masts were half deployed and already being targeted by the circling pirates.
“If I destroy those ships,” she said, “we may fail in our mission.”
“If we’re destroyed or captured,” Liam said, “we will fail in our mission.”
Liam could practically see her thoughts jumping from one option to the other as she weighed the command decision. Finally, she nodded. “Make it so.”
“Weapons control,” Liam ordered across the bridge, “you are free to engage with all armaments. Turrets, target the pirate boats!”
The pair of sailors manning the weapons consoles on the starboard side of the bridge began frantically manipulating their controls. Liam heard the faint whine of the lasers spooling up, then watched the display as Daring’s six turrets opened fire on the small craft closing in. The powerful beams were designed as self-defense against military missile attacks, and they made short work of the boats.
“Target the three pirates with missiles,” Liam ordered. “Salvo size one per ship.”
Three dazzling rockets launched forth from Daring’s missile battery. The first lanced through the blackness and impacted the first pirate ship seconds later. It had no military defense weapons and the missile crashed into its hull before exploding. The vessel reeled, spurts of flame and shrapnel erupting into space as its entire port side broke apart. The keel snapped and the remains of the ship broke in two.
The two smaller ships fared even worse. The missile impacts were enough to tear their hulls completely apart. Within seconds, nothing remained but two chaotic clouds of debris.
Liam stood in the center of the bridge, watching the results in grim assessment.
All threats were eliminated. His ship was safe. But at what cost? Was Daring intact? How many sailors had been lost? And had his decision just compromised their entire mission?
“Huzzah!” cried Highcastle. “That gave them the what for!”
Liam pressed a steadying hand against the command chair, fighting down the savage desire to run that ignorant fop through. The desire to fight still coursed through him. He rolled his fingers to ensure no shaking, then took several deep, calming breaths.
Brown wiped sweat from her brow as she continued to hunker over her consoles, directing ship activity even as she plotted a new course. Highcastle stood beyond her, arms folded triumphantly as he surveyed the scene.
“Steer us in toward the wreckage of the first ship,” Riverton ordered. “Subcommander Blackwood, prepare a boat to search. If we’re lucky, their mainframe survived the attack.”
“We have no boats, ma’am,” he reminded her softly. “They were both destroyed.”
“Then get a team suited up and ready to search,” she snapped. “We’ll get in close enough that they can use tethers.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Even with the awkward tethers and bulky space suits, it took Liam and his team less than an hour to search the wreckage of the pirate ship. With half the vessel obliterated, access to every remaining compartment was simply a matter of clambering over the twisted remains of bulkheads now open to the vacuum. There was no power to run the ship’s main computer, but the team was able to extract a few memory drives that appeared intact enough to possibly provide data. The expedition very quickly became litt
le more than a scavenge for supplies. Based on what they recovered, these pirate crews were mostly Human with a few brutes thrown in. No sign of Sectoids on board.
Back on board, Liam barely had time to shed his space suit before receiving a summons to the senior mess. As he stepped through into the familiar room he was surprised to see most of the senior staff seated around the table, including the captain.
“Lord Blackwood,” Riverton said with a gesture to the head of the table, “please take a seat.”
She had positioned herself at the foot of the table, and he appreciated her respecting his position as head of the mess. He took his seat, not doubting for a second who was really in charge of this meeting.
“Propulsion,” Riverton said without preamble, “report status.”
“All four masts are operational,” Swift replied. “Three of them have taken damage, but it’s nothing that will stop us from sailing. I’ll want to take a closer look at them whenever we next put into port. Sail inventory is at sixty-five percent. Thruster fuel, though, is at ten percent. It’ll be enough to get us alongside, but not much more.”
“Doctor,” Riverton continued, “crew status.”
“I have five wounded who are in stable condition,” Templegrey said. “And three deceased. All gunners.”
“Coxn, prisoner status.”
“All six alive and accounted for, ma’am.”
“Quartermaster, stores status.”
“Enemy fire damaged three of our main holds,” Virtue said, leaning forward with concern. “The leaks weren’t discovered until after the battle and we lost a great deal of water and compressed air. Food stores are fine, but water is at fifteen percent and air is at thirty percent. All three of those holds are compromised until we can repair them, so maximum storage of air and water is no more than fifty percent.”
“Assaulter, combat status.”
“We lost both boats, so no boarding capability. All six turrets are operational, cannon ammunition is sixty percent, and missile inventory is five remaining.”
“XO.” Riverton turned to Liam. “What did your excursion uncover?”
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