Planet Pirates Omnibus

by neetha Napew

  Her next visitor was Hollister, with a report on the extended repairs and probable performance limits of the ship until it went in for refitting. Even though the portside pods had not been as badly damaged as they’d originally thought, he insisted that the ship would not stand another long FTL chase. “One hop, two - a clear course into Sector - that we can manage. But the kind of maneuvering that the Ssli has to call for in a chase, no. You’ve no idea what load that puts on the pods - “

  Sassinak scowled. “That means we can’t find out where they go when they leave?”

  “Right. We’d be as likely to end up here as there, and most likely to be spread in between. I’d have to log a protest.”

  “Which would hardly be read if we did splatter. No, never mind. I won’t do that. But there must be something more than sitting here. If only we could tag their ships, somehow ...”

  “Well, now, that’s another story.” He’d been prepared to argue harder, Sassinak realized, as he sat back, brow furrowed. “Let’s see ... you’re assuming that someone’ll come along to evacuate, and you’d like to know where it goes, and we can’t follow, so ...”

  His voice trailed off; Sassinak waited a moment, but he said nothing. Finally he shook himself, and handed her another data cube. “I’ll think about it, but in the meantime, we’ve got another problem. Remember the trouble we were having with the scrubbers in Environmental?”

  “Yes.” Sassinak inserted the cube, wondering why he’d brought a hardcopy up here instead of just switching an output to her terminal. Then she focussed on the display and bit back an oath. When she glanced at him, he nodded.

  “It’s worse.” It was much worse. Day by day, the recycling efficiency had dropped, and the contaminant fraction had risen. Figures that she’d skimmed over earlier came back to her now: reaction equilibrium constants, rates of algal growth. “One thing that went wrong,” Hollister went on, pointing to the supporting data, “is that somehow an overflow valve stuck, and we backflushed from the ‘ponics into the supply lines. We’ve got green crud growing all along here - ‘ He pointed to the schematic. “Cleaned it out of the crosslines by yesterday, but that’s nutrient-rich flow, and the stuff loves it. We can’t kill it off without killing off the main ‘ponics tanks, and that would mean going on backup oxygen, and we lost twenty percent of our backup oxygen in the row with that ship.”

  Sassinak winced. She’d forgotten about the oxygen spares damaged or blown in that fight.

  “Ordinarily,” Hollister went on, “it’d help that we have a smaller crew, with the prize crew gone. But because we weren’t sure of the biosystems on that transport, I’m short of biosystems crew. Very short. What we need to do is flush the whole system, and replant - but it’d be a lot safer to do that somewhere we could get aired up. In the meantime, we’re going to be working twice as hard to get somewhat less output, and that’s if nothing else goes wrong.”

  “Could it be sabotage?” asked Sass.

  Hollister shrugged. “Could be. Of course it could be. But it could just as easily be ordinary glitches.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Day by day the biosystems monitors showed continued system failure. Sassinak forced herself to outward calmness, though she raged inwardly: to be so close, to have found a slaver base, and perhaps a line to its supporters, and then - not to be able to pursue. Hollister’s daily reports reinforced the data on her screens: they had no reserves for pursuit, and they could not hold station much longer.

  She hung on, nonetheless, hoping for another few ships to show up, anything to give her something to show for this expedition. Or, if Huron’s relief expedition arrived, they could take over surveillance. She spent some time each day digging through the personnel files, checking every person who should have been in the quadrant from which the missile came, and who might have had access to a signalling device. There were forty or fifty of them, and she worked her way from Aariefa to Kelly, hoping to be interrupted by insystem traffic. Finally a single ship appeared at the edge of her scanning range, just entering the system. Its IFF signal appeared to be undamaged, giving its mass/volume characteristics straightforwardly.

  “Hmm.” Sassinak frowned over the display. “If that’s right, it should have the new beacon system installed.” “Can we trip it?”

  “We can try.” The new system functioned as planned, revealing that the ship in question had come from Courcy-DeLan: before that it had hauled “mixed liquids” on the Valri-Palin-Terehalt circuit for eighteen months. “Mixed liquids” came in ten-liter carboys, what-ever that meant. Fuels? Drugs? Chemicals for some kind of synthetic process? It could be anything from concentrated acids to vitamin supplements for the slaves’ diet. Not that it was important right then, but Sassinak wished she could get a look at the ship’s manifest.

  Two more transports entered the system, and cautiously made their way down to the planet surface. The Zaid-Dayan’s sensitive detectors were able to pinpoint the ships’ locations on the surface, confirming that they had both settled onto the original contact site. Then a huge ship appeared, this one clearly unable to land on-planet. A Hall-Kir hull, designed for orbital station docking, settled into a low orbit. Now Sassinak was sure they were going to evacuate the base. A Hall-Kir could handle an enormous load of machinery and equipment. But the ship was at least twelve years old, and lacked the new beacon; nor could Sassinak figure out a way to tag it for future surveillance. Its IFF revealed only that it was leased from General Systems Freight Lines, a firm that had nothing on its records. Since the IFF reported only serial owners, Sassinak could not tell who had it under lease, or if it had been leased to doubtful clients before.

  “Fleet signal!” Sassinak woke from her restless doze at the squawk in her ear, and thumbed down the intercom volume control.

  “What is it?”

  “Fleet signal-inbound light attack group. Commodore Verstan commanding. It’s on a tight beam, coded - but they’re sure to have noticed - “

  “I’m on my way.” Sassinak shook her head, wondering if the slight headache was an artifact of worry, or really a problem with the air quality. Into the shower, fresh uniform, then onto the bridge, where alertness replaced the slightly jaded look of the past few days.

  “It was aimed for this planet’s local system,” said the Corn officer. “They must know we’re - “

  Sassinak shook her head. “They’re hoping - they don’t know for sure.”

  “Well, aren’t you going to send a return signal?”

  “What’s our window?”

  “Oh. That’s right.” Shoulders sagged. “We just barely picked it up, and now that miserable planet’s in the way.”

  “And their moon station should have intercepted it, right?”

  “Yes, but - “

  “So we lie low a little longer,” said Sass. “Give me a plot to the nearest Fleet position, and your best guess at its course.”

  That came up in light blue on the system graphics. Sassinak tried to think what she’d heard about Commodore Verstan. Would he ease cautiously into the system on the slower but very accurate insystem drives, or would he take FTL chunks across, as she had? How many were in his battle group - would he send a scoutship or escort vessel ahead? Surely Huron would have warned him about the falsified IFF signals, and he’d be ready for trouble . . . but some flag officers tended to downplay the warnings of juniors.

  She called Hollister up to the bridge, to ask about their capabilities. It would be lovely if they could spring a trap on the pirates - although how to arrange that without revealing their existence was a bit tricky.

  Far sooner than she expected, they intercepted another Fleet signal - evidently the Commodore had elected to come in fast, leapfrogging his smaller vessels ahead of the cruisers. The Scratch, an escort-class ship, was now sunward of them, scanning the entire “back” side of the planet system for any activity. Sassinak put a single coded message burst onto the tightest focus she could manage, and then waited. With any luck, the pi
rates wouldn’t have anything around to notice that transmission.

  Within seconds, she had a reply, and then a relayed link to Commodore Verstan. He wanted a rendezvous, and insisted that she move the Zaid-Dayan from its hidden location. Her suggestion that they arrange a trap, in which her concealed ship could suddenly intercept ships fleeing from his more obvious attack force was denied.

  There was nothing to do but comply. The outside crew retrieved the sensors and nets it had deployed on nearby chunks of rock, and when they were all back inside, Hollister gave the various drive components a last check. Then they waited over two hours, to clear the pirate surveillance.

  “I may have to give up a good observation post,” said Sass, “but I’m not about to jump out in front of them and say ‘Boo.’ We might be able to sneak away without their knowing we existed.”

  Carefully, delicately, the pilots extricated the Zaid-Dayan from the rocky cleft in which it had been hidden, and boosted away from the moonlet. Once free of it, Sassinak took a deep breath. Although it had given them safety at a critical time, a moon’s surface was not her ship’s natural home, and she felt irrationally safer in free flight. Besides, they could now “see” all around them, no longer confined to the narrowed angle of vision imposed by the moon and its rugged surface.

  As the ship came up to speed, all systems functioned perfectly - no red lights flared on the bridge to warn of imminent disaster. If she had not known about the damaged pods, and the patched hole in the port side docking bay, Sassinak would have thought the ship in perfect condition.

  Navigating through the planet’s cluttered space required all her concentration for the next few hours. By the time they were outside all the satellites and rings, the Fleet attack force was only a couple of light minutes away. She elected not to hop it, but continued on the insystem main drives, spending the hours of approach to ensure that her ship and its crew were ready for inspection. A couple of minutes with the personnel files had reminded her that Commodore Verstan had a reputation for being finicky. She had a feeling he would have plenty to say about the appearance of her ship.

  Meanwhile, she noted that his approach to the pirate base followed precisely the recommendations of the Rules of Engagement. Two escort-class vessels. Scratch and Darkwatch, were positioned sunward of the planet, no doubt “to catch strays.” The command cruiser, Seb Harr, and the two light cruisers formed a wedge; three patrol craft were positioned one on either flank and one trailing. They held these positions as the Zaid-Dayan approached, rather than closing with the planet system.

  Sassinak brought the Zaid-Dayan neatly into place behind the Seb Harr, and opened the tightly shielded link to Commodore Verstan. He looked just like his holo in the Flag Officer Directory, a lean, pink-faced man with thick gray hair and bright blue eyes. Behind him, she could see Huron watching the screen anxiously.

  “Commander Sassinak,” said Verstan, formally. “We received signals from a Fleet distress beacon.”

  Sassinak’s heart sank. If he was going to take that approach . . .

  “But I see that was some kind of... misunderstanding.” She started to speak but he was going on without waiting. “Lieutenant Commander Huron had suggested the possibility that the apparent explosion of your ship was staged somehow, though I believe ... uh . . . tradition favors disabling the beacon if this is done ...”

  “Sir, in this instance the beacon’s signal was necessary to fool the pirates - “

  “Ah, yes. The pirates. And how many armed ships were you facing, Commander?”

  Sassinak gritted her teeth. There would be a court of inquiry; there was always a court of inquiry in circumstances like these, and that was the place for these questions. “The first armed ship,” she said, “was escorting the slaver transport. We did not know at that time if the slaver were armed - “

  “But it wasn’t. You had the IFF signal - “

  “We knew the IFF of the escort had been falsified, and weren’t sure of the transport. Some of them are: you will recall the Cles Prel loss, when a supposedly unarmed transport blew a light cruiser away - “ That was a low blow, she knew: the captain of the Cles Prel had been Verstan’s classmate at the Academy. His face stiffened, then she saw dawning respect in his eyes: he was a stickler for protocol, but he liked people with gumption.

  “You said ‘the first armed ship,’ “ he went on. “Was there another?”

  Sassinak explained about the well-defended base, and the ships that had boosted off to join the battle. She knew Huron would have told him about the weaponry on the first ship - if he’d listened. Then, before he could ask details of the battle, she told him about the traffic in the system since.

  “They’ve had three Gourney-class transports land in the past few days, and there’s a Hall-Kir in low orbit. One of the Gourney-class is definitely from a heavyworlder system, and it’s made unclassified trips before. I think they’re planning to evacuate the base; we monitored considerable shuttle activity up to the orbital ship.”

  “Any idea how big the base is?”

  “Not really. We were on the back side of that moonlet, with only a small sensor net deployed for line of sight to the planet. The thermal profile is consistent with anything from one thousand to fifteen thousand, depending on associated activities. If we knew for sure what they were doing, we could come closer to a figure. I can dump the data for you - “

  “Please do.”

  Sassinak matched channels, and sent the data. “If their turnaround is typical. Commodore, they could be loaded and ready to lift in another couple of days.”

  “I see. Do you think they’ll do it with our force here?”

  “Probably - they won’t gain anything by waiting for you to put them under siege. Oh - that outer moon - did Huron tell you about their detection profile?”

  “Yes. I know they know we’ve entered the system - we also stripped their outer warning beacon. But that’s exactly what I’m hoping for. Three medium transports, one Hall-Kir hull ... we should be able to trail several of them, if we can tag them. If we wait another week, we may have more in the net when we attack. How about you?”

  She wanted to join the hunt more than anything in years, but Hollister was shaking his head at her. “Sir, my environmental system is overloaded, and my portside pods sustained considerable damage . . . the engineers tell me we can’t do another long chase.”

  “Humph. Can you give us a visual? Maybe we have something you can use for repairs?”

  Apparently one of the other cruisers had a visual on them, for before Sassinak could reply, she saw a picture come up on the screen behind Commodore Verstan. One of his bridge officers pointed it out to him, and he turned - then swung back to face Sassinak with a startled expression.

  “What the devil happened to you? It looks like your portside loading bay - “

  “Was breached. Yes, but it’s tight now. Looks pretty bad, I know - “

  “And you’re short at least two portside pods . . . you’re either lucky or crazy, Commander, and I’m not sure which.”

  “Lucky, I hope,” said Sassinak, not displeased with his reaction. “By the way, is Lieutenant Commander Huron attached to your command, now, or are you bringing him back to me?”

  Verstan smiled, and waved Huron forward. “We weren’t sure you were here, after all - but if you’re in need I’m sure he’ll be willing to transfer over.” Huron had aged in those few weeks, a stern expression replacing the amiable (but competent) one he had usually worn. Sassinak wondered if he felt the same about her - would he even want to come back? She shook herself mentally - he was telling her about his trip with the slaver transport, the horrible conditions they’d found, the impossibility of comforting all those helpless children, orphaned and torn from their homes. Her eyes filled with tears, as much anger and frustration at not having been able to stop it as grief from her own past. His ship had been short of rations - since it had been inbound, at the end of a planned voyage - and to the other miseries of the
passengers hunger and thirst had been added. Now he wanted to be in the assault team; as he had no regular assignment on the flagship, he had requested permission to land with the marines.

  “I’ll come back, of course, if you need me,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. Sassinak sighed. Clearly his experience haunted him; he would not be content until he’d had slavers in his gunsight ... or gotten himself killed, she thought irritably. He wasn’t a marine; he wasn’t trained in ground assault; he ought to have more sense. In the long run he’d be better off if she ordered him back to the Zaid-Dayan, and kept him safe.

  “Huron - “ She stopped when he looked straight at her. Captain to captain, that gaze went - he was no longer the compliant lover, the competent executive officer whose loyalty was first to her. She could order him back, and he would come - but without the self-respect, the pride, that she had learned to love. She could order him to her bed, no doubt, and he would come - but it would not be the Huron she wanted. He would have to fight his own battles awhile first, and later - if they had a later - they could discover each other again. She felt an almost physical pain in her chest, a wave of longing and apprehension combined. If something happened to him - if he were killed - she would have to bear the knowledge that she could have kept him out of it. But if she forced him to safety now, she’d have to bear the knowledge that he resented her.

  “Be careful,” she said at last. “And get some of the bastards for me.”

  His eyes brightened, and he gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you. Commander Sassinak. I’m glad you understand.”

  Whatever she did, the battle would be over by the time she got back to Fleet Sector Headquarters for refitting. Sassinak hoped her answering smile was as open and honest as his: she felt none of his elation.