Wandering Engineer 6: Pirates Bane

by Chris Hechtl

  Irons studied the burnt panel, and then peered into the rats nest of wiring. He pointed to a couple of wires. “First, no wire ties keeping things neat and from arching. It looks like arching from a short.”

  “Wire ties? Arching?”

  “Throw enough amperage through a wire and then give it a place to go with lower resistance and it'll do that. Electrical energy follows the path of least resistance,” Irons said. He pushed the kid back with his hands as he leaned in to look closer. “I wouldn’t do that. It's live.”

  “It is?”

  “Did you shut it down?”

  “Um, no? We need it to function for this area?”

  “Is this going to take long?” the first guard asked, clearly bored.

  “Hey! Isn't that guy supposed to be back in the brig?” another voice demanded. The guards flinched and looked at each other.

  “Sorry Lieutenant. We're um... on our way,” the second said, grabbing Irons by his left arm. He squeezed hard. “Ain't we?” He demanded.

  “Whatever you say. Sir.”

  “That's right,” the guard said, dragging him along. “Good luck figuring it out Chuckles,” he said over his shoulder to the rating. “I hope you fry,” he ended with a mutter as they moved away.

  “No you don't. We won't be around to see it,” the other muttered. He stepped over a knee knocker and ducked the upper combing as he passed through a hatch.

  “Yeah well, fun is fun, but this way we can't catch any of the blame if that moron get's his ass killed,” the first said, hustling them along. “Still, it would have been fun to watch,” he grumbled. “Liven things up around here. Dull as shit,” he grumbled.

  <----*----*----*---->

  Phoenix watched the three humans on his ship with growing concern. They had recharged the reserve power; he now had enough to function, but not enough to do much. And right now, all he could do was wait. “Jed, you seen this?” The human called Baskin's said, bouncing a ball off the bulkhead.

  “What?” Jed asked, sounding bored. He was the one Phoenix was most worried about; the human was constantly poking about looking for loot.

  “This, the crewman said, pointing with his free hand to the screen he was watching. Jed poked his head in the hatch and looked over Baskin's shoulder. Baskin's looked over his shoulder to him and then to the screen. “Good game man. Bet the Spacehawks win,” he said.

  That amused the AI. It was a recording obviously, one the one called Baskin's had brought with him.

  “Bet? How much?” Jed asked.

  “Ten creds or a half shift.”

  “Shit,” Jed said, rubbing his head. “I dunno, that's big stakes man,” he grumbled.

  “Come on, take a risk,” Baskin's said, bouncing the ball and catching it again. “What do you have to lose?”

  “Ten credits and a half shift doing your stink ass job,” Jed growled. He looked at the screen, deep in thought. “What side you said? The Hawks?”

  Baskin's looked at the screen again. “Yeah.”

  “They are down by three and it's the fourth quarter. How can the Rattlers come back from that?” the big man asked. “No way,” he said.

  “So?” Baskin's said, smiling. “Easy money right?” he asked.

  Jed stared at him for a long moment. “I'm not... no,” he said. He thought for a moment, scowling. Finally he caught on. “You asshole! You're pulling a Burns on me!” he growled, kicking the other guy's chair. Baskin's floundered for balance, missing the balls return.

  “A Burns?” he asked, trying to project innocence.

  “Sure. It's a recording right? I bet you watched it already and know the outcome. Sure,” Jed growled, shaking his head. “A sucker, that's what you take me for,” he growled, stomping off.

  Baskins smirked, recovering the ball. There would be other marks he thought. “Frack head,” he growled. He sighed, so much for that idea.

  Phoenix watched it all unfold and regretted not having someone to bet with himself. He would have bet real CPU cycles that the two humans would have come to blows. That would have been productive for him. Unfortunately it hadn't happened.

  He was tempted to throw his own efforts into destabilizing the crew but held off. He had in his memory the stories of Sprite and the Admiral of the Antigua Prime 'haunting' and the antics of Sprite on the Admiral's behalf. It would be simple to have a series of accidents to spook the crew. Possibly entertaining, but it would violate his orders.

  So, he watched and waited, unsure if the signal to act would ever come through, but ready to do so.

  <----*----*----*---->

  As he re-entered the brig behind the first guard Admiral Irons carefully scanned the weapons locker. Because it was a brig locker it didn’t contain the lethal weapons that were in the ship’s armory, however in the back was what he truly sought, a dozen sets of re-breathers. It also had shock batons, a cattle prod, and neural whip among other things he really didn't want to identify. Some items still had bits of blood and skin on them.

  “Sprite, map the ante room and record the voices and retinal patterns of the guards,” he texted to the AI as the guards got their shit together.

  “As well as record the key codes they used to open the doors. Understood. You should realize they are up to something nasty sir,” Sprite said.

  The Admiral nodded a choppy nod, distracted in his planning. His plan was partially formed, but he needed manpower to pull it off. If he just went all gangsta on them and did a frontal assault with his shields and plasma weapons he'd be cut off, locked in a section of the ship behind armored bulkheads that even his plasma weapon wouldn't cut easily. He had to hit them from multiple threat axis at the same time to prevent getting overwhelmed.

  He'd be drained if he went it alone, he knew he needed to take a chance on the other prisoners and organize a prison break. The question now was whom could he trust?

  He turned at the clack of sound behind him. His passive senses started to reach out but Sprite shut them down fast. He frowned, looking over his shoulder to see robots. Robotic guards. Great, he thought. That was an added complication.

  There were several, one humanoid and two robotic dogs. Obviously ground weapons, drones really, but a mobile set of eyes for someone far away. Also an added variable and complication he really didn't need right now. He was however glad to know about them.

  He studied them briefly. They were worn, but in functional condition. Their eyes scanned him briefly. He felt a lidar scan hit him. He moved ever so slightly, just enough to blur the scan. They scanned him a few more times; each time he moved enough to prevent a proper image. Finally the robot gave up. Most likely whoever was controlling it thought the scanner was faulty.

  The robotic drones he noted would be a problem. They were most likely controlled from a security console somewhere on the ship. Hacking them was possible, but not once a confrontation was underway. He'd have to have Proteus or Sprite find a way to jam or corrupt them. He would also need to find that security station and target it to take it out.

  Chapter 8

  The guards roughly pushed him into the brig, neglecting to take off his cuffs. When he turned to them and held his hands out expectantly but patiently they laughed a gloating evil laugh that would have chilled anyone but him. At least they'd left his hands cuffed in front he thought. Sighing he turned to see the Horathian MC and two of his goons coming for him. Thinking that with his hands chained he would be easy meat, they charged.

  John harshly bit down on using his fully enhanced reflexes. A snap kick to one dropped him back. The other two backed off, but one tripped on someone’s outstretched leg and went down with a howl.

  John took advantage of the distraction and charged the other man, using the base of his palms to ram into the other man’s solar plexus while ducking a roundhouse punch. The man went down gasping and retching. John felt pain as a blow landed on his left shoulder and he turned to face his new attacker.

  Bard was up, a trickle of blood and drool dripping from
his pulped mouth. Snarling he landed a few more punches before John dropped to the deck and lashed out. The snap kick hit the man’s leg. The man went down, howling as his leg bent the wrong way and his kneecap shattered. John flipped to his feet without using his shackled hands.

  Turning to the final goon who had tripped, he snorted in wry humor to see the guy hastily backing away with his hands up. Guards entered and showered the compartment with kicks and blows with billy clubs before they dragged the wounded out.

  When the compartment settled down, the food replicator came online and the prisoner’s lined up to eat. John waited until they were all in line then took his place at the back, surprising some.

  “Scan the replicator again.”

  “We already tried that Admiral, the node Proteus created links to a diagnostics system and nothing more. The device is hard firewalled out of the ship's net,” Sprite reported.

  “The replicator seems to be powered by a remote switch, allowing the prisoner’s to eat, but not to enter the ship net.”

  He noted the surviving officers each received their share of the slop in old dirty plastic bowl and then sat in a corner far from the three remaining Horathians. The female blond Horathian nearest him glared spitefully at John. He looked at her with cool disinterest. She mouthed 'you'll get yours when the Captain finds out' and then looked away to the other Horathians around her.

  Sprite boosted his auditory sensors, and he picked out their conversation. The Horathians were muttering about Bard, and about what was going to happen to John. They were sullen, but eager to see it. He turned away, he didn't need to hear them discussing what might happen to him.

  Instead Sprite focused on the officers. He was surprised to hear them talking with some spunk. “It seems more is going on than we thought. They aren't as beaten as we had assumed John,” Sprite said, sounding amused.

  “They don't stand a chance without me,” John replied under his breath.

  The rating in front of him looked back at him briefly. “You say something?”

  “No, just a sigh,” John replied. The rating looked at him for a few seconds and then shrugged as he turned back.

  “From the sound of it, they are arguing about bringing you into an escape attempt,” Sprite reported. “I can see why the Horathians placed spies in here and didn't rely on microphones. All the various conversations going on around us are making it hard for even me to pick out what I want to hear,” Sprite said, sounding like she approved of the situation.

  John mentally nodded, focusing on the text captions Sprite was putting up for him. Thankfully she wasn't using word bubbles, just initials to signify who was saying what.

  “I'm telling you, we can use him! He's legit! And he knows something is going to happen!”

  “We can't get to step two right now. We still need to figure out how to disable the robots,” Ian said in a calm aside, not looking around as he played with the porridge. “Gustov said he could maybe take out one, but not all. If the bot controllers get word out, we're screwed.”

  “I know, I know. They'll cut us off and suck the air out. We've been over that. Let's stay positive. We know where the security office is; the idiot keeps the door open so he can get a breeze with the fan down the hall. Shifty on third shift is lazy he sleeps half his shift. We can use that.”

  “Yeah, but they don't let many of us out on grave remember? So that's a problem,” Sindri rumbled softly. He glanced around, not nervously, but to make certain no one else was around. His bass voice tended to cut through the chatter in the room and carried easily.

  John nodded. They still had spirit, and he could work with that. They were thinking, another good sign.

  From the sound and direction of the conversation they were leaning to recruiting him, however his overexposure with the fights was drawing too much attention. Captain Franx wanted to use him as a distraction. Karen Hoshi remained silent, poised but not giving any feel for what she thought. She had a good poker face, the Admiral thought.

  Another female joined them, silently sitting next to the others and kept watch. She had her back to the others, but occasionally murmured something or turned ever so slightly to look over her shoulder. The other three females and several males, all looking out and covering the planning with meaningless small talk, eventually surrounded them. A few laughed, which struck the Admiral as wrong. He couldn't put a finger on why it did until he realized they hadn't shown any sound of amusement beyond bitterness in the compartment.

  If any of the Horathian's noticed, they didn't give any sign of it.

  Nodding mentally, Admiral Irons listened as they discussed the Ssilli who was a slave aboard the ship. Distracted, he nearly dropped his bowl.

  “Yes you heard right,” Sprite said to him, sounding intrigued and excited herself. Intently interested, he listened as they discussed how the female named Nata'roka could access the ship’s network when they next went to hyper and sabotage the ship’s systems.

  “Note, we don't want to be on this ship when that happens,” Sprite said dryly. John nodded slightly.

  There was no love lost for the Horathians, she was old and hated them. She had been taken from a derelict freighter's stasis pod years ago and had been tortured into submitting. She hadn't been broken from what he had heard, which was a risk. They kept the alien alive for her incredible skills as a navigator. The current crew took great pleasure in torturing her for fun when they were in subspace, and from the sound of it, she was near the breaking point.

  Wincing, John wondered how they could still be alive. If she had wanted, the hyperspace navigator could have dropped them into any black hole or hyperspace fold at any time. During his travels he had learned that the Ssilli were rare, the Xenos had taken special care to wipe them and any other navigators out. In fact, only one of the aliens was currently known alive, the one his people had rescued in Pyrax. A male, if he remembered correctly. Something else to look into when he had the chance, he thought.

  When it was his turn in front of the machine he placed his right hand on the activation button just for a moment longer than required. Proteus sent out nanites, scanning the system and creating a WI-Fi node to connect to in the future.

  “Get your crap and sit,” someone nearby growled. The Admiral took the worn plastic bowl, stuck it in the slot, watched the goop sputter out, then the panel went dead. He frowned and took the bowl out.

  Now that he had his slop, Admiral Irons made his way through the crowd, surprising them by his speed. He could feel the hostility in the compartment; he didn't need the simpering looks and cold disdain to know he was on dangerous ground. The feelings hovered in the air, a miasma radiating around them. You'd think since he was the new meat there would be some sympathy, apparently not. They were too beaten to care that others would share in their misery. Some welcomed it, since new meat meant the focus came off them and onto the noob. Since he had no crew... that made him the target. However his disruption of their carefully crafted pecking order had thrown things into flux. He had made it clear he would be no one's victim or round bottomed boy.

  Not that he was going to let that happen. He knew he wasn't reacting right; he was falling back into his old habits and doing things his way. He was showing them in a way, showing them that they didn't have to be beaten down; they didn't have to fall into the Stockholm syndrome. He wasn't certain if that was a good idea however, unlike him, they were a target.

  Eyes flicked up to him but he was too fast. He brushed past the prisoner acting as a guard too quickly for him to move. The captains fell silent as he sat down with them, and he raised his ladened spoon to take a bite with both hands. “It won't work,” he told them casually, not even looking at them.

  Captain Franx looked to him warily “What won't work?” he asked, eyes telling Irons to just buzz off.

  Admiral Irons snorted softly. “Your plan won't work.” Stunned reactions from the group and he ground on. “First my ship was damaged and locked down, it would take too long to re
pair it, a single missile or a graser shot would take it out. Second, she's about out of fuel, not even enough to get away from this ship let alone jump. Third, the bridge and this compartment are covered with the auto guns in the ceiling and security bots.”

  Calmly he ate, covertly watching them through his passive sensors as they digested this news. The auto-guns and bots shouldn't be news to them. Hell, their whole plan was based on a wing and a prayer that had no hope of success. All the pirate ship had to do was use the EMP weapon on the Phoenix again and they'd be helpless.

  “What do you suggest John?” Franx finally asked casually, with a cocked head as he ate slowly.

  Admiral Irons calmly continued his meal, focusing on his intent. To do this he needed them, but did he really trust them? Making a decision he acted. He sent a signal to Proteus to send a timed nanite package to each of the slave officers. Each of the nanite packs would have to rely on materials in their host bodies to get the job done. Proteus would have to keep a nanite trail going to each person to keep control of the nanites so they wouldn't self-destruct. The whole process would be tricky, but if they pulled it off it could mean the difference between life and death for a lot of people.

  “Admiral, this is very unwise,” Sprite protested but he cut her off.

  John turned to Franx. “Does someone have access to the central control of the life support systems?”

  “Not central, it's a distributed system. Redundant, but it is effective in case part of it goes down, they can pull life support from neighboring systems. I'm stuck trying to fix the downed plant in the aft stern right now,” McGuyver acidly commented.

  Nodding mentally Admiral Irons gave a crocked grin as McGuyver caught on. Hoshi looked to each of them with shadowed eyes, and Admiral Irons cocked his head and cut his eyes to her food. Grimacing she took a bite.

  Their conversation slowed when the door opened. Everyone looked covetously as Bard and one of the other prisoners stumbled back in. Bard looked around before he marched to the food replicator. He took his slop and then took a seat with the other Horathians. A few murmured to him but he angrily told them to shut up.