Give No Quarter (Privateer Tales Book 10)

by Jamie McFarlane

  "You know I can't possibly make this deal," Alderson said. "At a minimum, I'd need to get buy-in from the executive branch."

  "I'd recommend making that call, then," Jonathan/Anino replied, "because you're not getting the technology otherwise."

  TIME TO GET ROWDY

  "Cap, sorry to wake you." Marny's voice stirred me from sleep. It had been forty hours since our meeting with Alderson and I was sleeping fitfully in my quarters aboard Hotspur.

  "I'm not really sleeping," I said groggily.

  "There's a Marine at the airlock asking for us," she said.

  "Copy that," I replied.

  Ten minutes later, we all met in the galley.

  "Ready for this?" I asked.

  "What if they say no?" Sendrei asked.

  "They can't," Jonathan replied. I wasn't sure if it was Anino or Jonathan talking and for a moment I felt like I'd lost a friend, knowing that the dominant personality of Thomas Phillipe Anino would likely take over speaking responsibilities.

  When we arrived back in the George Ellery Hale’s conference room, we found a haggard looking team. Along one wall, vid screens displayed Cradle, its moon and the Kroerak battleship. On the table lay one of the spears the battleship had pinned to Intrepid. Another wall of screens displayed twenty different views of the two Kroerak species we'd run into. Bleary eyes regarded us as we took the seats left open.

  "We're in, but you're not going to like it," Alderson started. "We need more data on that battleship of theirs and you're going to get it for us."

  "What are you talking about? We get within thirty kilometers and they'll obliterate us," Marny said.

  "True for Intrepid, but you're going to take a wing of Tison-4Xs with you," he said. "With luck, the fighters will be able to get close enough to gather the information we need."

  "What kind of information?" I asked.

  "We need to know if we can actually penetrate the hull of that battleship," he said. "The Tisons aren't much good against a ship of that size, but we don't need them to kill it. As nice as that'd be, we just need to see what we're up against."

  "Sounds like a dangerous mission for that wing. We have no idea what kind of close-up defenses they might have," I said.

  "Maybe you don't get it, Hoffen," Alderson responded. "That's what we do. We run toward danger so you don't have to."

  "That's not fair," Sterra said, quietly. "Hoffen and his crew have consistently put their lives on the line for the good of others."

  Alderson shook his head but didn't push it further. "Point is, we need data before we engage that ship with any sort of fleet."

  "Give me a Tison," I said. "No, give me two Tisons. We'll get your data."

  "That's crap. Naval Aviators train months to fly a Tison and it takes them stans to become proficient," Alderson shot back.

  "What do you have in a Tison? Twenty, thirty million credits?" I asked. "That's nothing for you. Tabby is already trained on it and if you spent two weeks checking me out on one, I could get you your data. I'm guessing it will take you that long to put together a mission of this size anyway."

  "Don't be stupid, Hoffen. You can't expect to outfly a Navy pilot."

  "We're not going up against Navy pilots," I said. "We're going up against Kroerak."

  "I'll put up the money for two Tisons," Jonathan said. "They're not that hard to come by on the black market if you're trying to keep your name clear."

  "Commander Munay?"

  "I'm not totally against the idea, Admiral," he said. "At a minimum, we'd learn about the Kroerak close-in defenses against small craft. Our fighter jocks would have a lot better idea what they were up against. If it's cost-neutral, I like it."

  "We'll supply the Tisons, but I'll need payment in advance," Alderson said.

  "Give me an account number," Jonathan said.

  "What about the rest of the plan?" I asked.

  "Once we take out that battleship, the rest of this is easy," Munay said. "You've already done the hard work on the ground by bringing back that corpse and modifying your firing package. Your makeshift 816s were moderately effective and from that we can make adjustments. We'll put a battalion of mechanized infantry on the ground and take the fight right to the enemy. They won't know what hit them. We should be able to complete the mission in forty-two hours."

  "You plan to be on the ground for forty-two hours?" I asked.

  "We do," he said. "Moving that many bodies takes time, especially if they aren't expecting us. The key to this mission is overwhelming firepower. We need to send a message to the Kroerak. Mess with us, we put you down."

  "Oorah!" Marny said, bringing her fist down on the table, startling several of the bleary-eyed analysts who looked like they'd been awake for way too long.

  "Damn straight, Marine," Munay said.

  "What will you have us do?" I asked.

  "Frankly son, I don't believe you'll be with us at that point," Munay said. "For the sake of argument, let's say you are. In that case, I'll have a special mission for you."

  ***

  "You want what as your navigator?" The training officer looked at me like I'd grown a third ear. The name on his uniform read Lt. Commander Jacobs.

  "His name is Jester Ripples. He's a Norigan and it's not up for discussion. We've talked about it and this is what he wants," I said.

  "Your funeral, pal. My job is to get you ready and that's what I'm going to do," he said, running his hand back over his buzz-cut skull. "The first thing you and your monkey friend need to understand is that you're the most dangerous things in this cockpit."

  We were standing next to a brightly painted simulator. The cockpit was designed for two and roomier than I'd expected. The two seats faced each other and had room enough to stretch out completely.

  "He's not a monkey," I said. "And you’re insulting the first alien Mars Protectorate has ever encountered. Is that really how you want to be remembered?"

  "That a fact," the man replied, clearly not impressed. "The first thing most trainees notice is that the ship here is completely filled with nav-gel. The second is that there are no windows. If you're prone to claustrophobia, welcome to hell.

  "Climb up in there," he continued. "Might as well get on with this. The AI is set up to orient you and start on basic training."

  We did as he suggested. "This is very interesting, Liam Hoffen," Jester Ripples said, holding my hand as we climbed into the heavily armored cockpit. "It appears your species places quite an emphasis on survival. I appreciate that."

  "Lifespan of an active fighter pilot is precisely twenty-two point two stans," Jacobs explained as he made sure we were tucked in correctly. "That's seventeen stans for primary and secondary education, three stans for the academy, and two point two stans to turn into a ball of flaming glory."

  I had to smile at the man's patter. I wondered how many recruits he'd laid this spiel on.

  I'd be a liar if I said that I didn't panic when the nav-gel filled the cockpit after we'd been closed in. The viscous fluid made all movements within the cockpit slow and exaggerated. It was almost the exact opposite of experiencing zero-g.

  "This nav-gel is quite remarkable," Jester Ripples cackled in his high voice. "It's such a wonderful idea. I'd wondered how they could allow us to face each other, but this gel is brilliant."

  "Quiet in there," Jacobs demanded from outside. "The AI will run you through a number of self-paced simulations. It's not too late to punch out if you're getting squeamish."

  I looked at the display that had popped up in front of me. A reticle tracked my eye movement and an AI's voice instructed me to lightly flick my finger to select the currently focused option. There were two options; start the training or exit the cockpit. I focused on the training menu option and flicked my finger. A display popped up showing an oversized picture of my finger movement and prompted me to repeat the gesture, but with less movement. I complied and the option was selected.

  For the next five hours, the AI continued to walk both
Jester Ripples and me through a series of exercises. By the end of it, I was both tired and exhilarated. Flying a Tison was all about micro-gestures, something I was already attuned to with my AGBs. About ten minutes into the training, the ship's AI recognized that I already had an understanding of these micro-gestures and we set about mapping them to ship commands.

  "Give up?" Jacobs asked as we both exited.

  I smiled. "Do you fly?"

  He nodded affirmatively.

  "I bet you know the answer to that, then," I said.

  "Well then, all right," he answered. "Maybe there's hope for you yet. I want you to get grub and be back here in thirty minutes."

  "Let's do it now," Jester Ripples said. "I'm having so much fun!"

  I pulled two meal-bars from a pack and handed one to Jester Ripples. "Give us five and we'll be ready to go."

  "You have ten," the man said.

  ***

  About halfway through our fourteen days of training, the newly repaired Intrepid arrived at our staging location and Tabby and Nick joined in with the training. Tabby refreshed her skills in the bumblebee while Nick served as navigator. Much of the thrill of piloting the Tison had worn off - or rather had been ground off by the grueling pace. Days melded from one into the other and by the end of it, I had difficulty imaging I hadn't always flown a bumblebee. The Tison-4X designation had been lost so many days before.

  "Here's to you not pasting yourself the first time you come in contact with the enemy." Lieutenant Gentry Jacobs toasted us on the flight deck. He opened a bottle of sparkling wine, filled disposable cups, and handed them out. "Remember. The most common way for a jock to die is … "

  "…to turn into a fine red paste due to excessive g-forces." Tabby, Nick and I finished for him. He'd drilled the idea into our heads over and over again.

  "Don't be a statistic," he said. "It reflects badly on me."

  "It's been an honor." I saluted him back. Jacobs had been a jerk for the better part of the two weeks and when we'd actually started flying the fighters for real, it had become entirely obvious that he'd earned that right. The man could literally fly circles around us and frequently had. His ability to push his craft to the edge was well beyond our own capacity and my respect for professional pilots had grown by an order of magnitude. It hadn't been completely one-sided, though. Both Tabby and I had moments of brilliance and while those moments were far exceeded by our blunders and near catastrophes, I felt like given time, I'd have been able to give him a run for his money.

  "I guess we better get these birds back to their new home," I said. At the moment, I would have preferred to simply lie down on the deck and go to sleep, but the entire fleet was scheduled for departure in less than an hour.

  Naval engineers had modified the hitch used to lock in Hotspur so that it was compatible with the two, much smaller craft. In addition, they'd also installed a retractable cowl that hid the existence of the fighters as well as plumbing for the nav-gel reservoirs. We could now load into the fighters without being exposed directly to space.

  "Hold on there, kids," Jacobs said, smiling. "You've missed the best part of our little ceremony."

  "Really?" Tabby asked, eyebrows raised high in surprise. "But we didn't finish all of the training."

  "Absolutely. You're headed into combat; you've earned it," he explained. "Unlike our North American counterparts, Mars Protectorate provides call-signs for the birds their pilots fly. As the pilot moves, so moves that call-sign. Captain Liam Hoffen, I understand you do a little boxing. Your bird's call-sign will be Sugar, after one of the greatest boxers from an era long ago. Tabitha Masters, I stuck with the theme and your bird's call-sign will be Rowdy after the martial artist from the same time period named Rousey. Now, you go fly these birds like their namesakes and report back to me when you make it out on the other side."

  And that was that. Without any further conversation, Jacobs walked over to the two Tisons which Anino had purchased and pulled a sheet of sticky paper from the hull, exposing the painted names he'd assigned. He then left the flight deck without so much as looking over his shoulder.

  "Load 'em up," I said with more enthusiasm than I felt and palmed the security panel on the side of low-slung fighter. The cockpit hinged open, exposing a clean interior. Jester Ripples and I had re-configured the seating so that he sat in front of me and down, with both of us oriented forward. We'd learned that I had a predilection for forward flight and there was a slight advantage in absorbing g-forces in the forward facing seat. The nav-gel almost made it a wash, but not completely. Jacobs had talked with me about working to overcome my forward bias. His argument was that if I were to dog-fight with any decent pilot, they'd pick me apart once the bias was recognized. The second advantage to our orientation was that I could see Jester Ripple's displays almost as well as I could see my own.

  "The wet interior makes me wish for home," Jester Ripples offered as the interior filled with gel.

  Hail George Ellery Hale, Jester Ripples requested. "George Ellery Hale, this is Loose Nuts fighter wing one. We're requesting an all-clear for the attached local-space maneuver." I'd been impressed how quickly Jester Ripples had adopted the protocol required by Mars Protectorate.

  "Loose Nuts, you're cleared for close-in operation."

  "Tell me about home, Jester Ripples," I said as I lifted the fighter from the deck and backed out. In that there were no windows in the craft, backing out was easy as I was able to rotate my view so that it felt like I was flying forward.

  "Rowdy, we're all clear," he continued before answering me. It was a pattern Jester Ripples and I had adopted, official communication interrupting conversations as if they weren't even happening. "Jonathan and I feel the best translation for our home planet is Norige."

  "We read you, Sugar," Tabby replied with a mischievous lilt to her voice. “We're on your wing.”

  "Try to keep up." I juiced the fighter out between the George Ellery Hale and her twin battle cruiser, Messier. In all, the battle group consisted of the two cruisers, five destroyers and two personnel carriers, each carrier as large as a battle cruiser. For the most part, we'd been kept out of the battle plans, aside from our part in it, which was simply to gather intelligence in advance of the invasion.

  "Intrepid, we're requesting permission for mating," Jester Ripples said in his sing-song voice.

  "Pardon me?" Ada asked, chuckling. "You're clear for docking."

  "I made a funny," Jester Ripples squeaked. "My apologies, Ada Chen."

  The flight of a Tison-4X bore virtually no similarity to that of a normal ship. I'd learned the engines produced as much power as Sterra’s Gift, yet we were one-twentieth the mass. At short distances, it felt more like you squirted from one location to the other, instead of accelerating, gliding and decelerating. Travel was possible in virtually any direction, which was why Jacobs was so concerned with my predilection for forward flight.

  As we approached the belly of Intrepid, Jester Ripples changed the cockpit view to give me a panoramic view. It was as if I was able to see completely through the gel and the ship's hull as we approached, giving me one hundred percent confidence of our attitude in relationship to docking. At ten meters, Jester Ripples provided a popup window showing the vector of travel between the fighter's docking rails and Intrepid's extended docking clamps. I confidently dropped into place, toggled the virtual switch to lock us in and drained the cockpit. If there was a downside to the fighters, it was the time it took to recover the nav-gel. For the same reason the gel was valuable as a conductor for the inertial system, – basically, it helped the system manipulate forces – it was easy to coax off vac-suits and every surface within the cockpit.

  We were first to the airlock and waited inside for Nick and Tabby, who were only a few moments behind us. "Do you need me for anything?" Tabby asked as atmo filled the chamber.

  "Nope, we're outta here in forty-five minutes or so, but Ada has that under control," I said. "What's up?"

  "I haven't
had a decent workout in forever," she said.

  "I'm just going to check the watch schedule, but I don't have a workout in me," I said. "I need sleep."

  "I'll find you," she said.

  "Captain on the bridge," Marny announced smartly as Nick and I entered.

  "Liam, Nick. Good," she said. "All systems are reporting green."

  "Copy that," I said. "Let's get this show on the road."

  "We've been given instructions not to leave until the top of the hour," Ada said.

  "In that case, it's a good thing we're not Navy," I said. All ship announcement. Play AC-DC, Back in Black.

  "Seriously?" Ada asked.

  "Let's hit it," I said as the music started.

  Back in black, I hit the sack

  I've been too long I'm glad to be back

  FIRE IN THE HOLE

  "Liam, we're two minutes to transition to local-space," Ada said.

  After twenty-two days in fold-space, we were preparing to drop into Cradle's solar system. I was tense with excitement. For all the talk of accomplishment in getting Mars Protectorate to mount an emergency mission in record time, none of it meant anything if we failed on this portion of the plan.

  We'd loaded into the Tisons and I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself. The plan was to separate immediately from Intrepid upon arrival. Everything after that point depended on the Kroerak. When we dropped in, Intrepid would require two hours on hard burn to reach Cradle. Sugar and Rowdy would cover that same distance in seven minutes, five if we pushed hard.

  The wave of transition hit me hard and I felt the familiar tug on the ring I wore on my left hand. Tabby knew I still struggled through transition and let me know she was thinking of me.

  "Rowdy is off," Jester Ripples announced. My vision had just started to clear as I released the clamps holding us to Intrepid.

  "We're reading six bogeys," Ada's voice announced over our tactical channel.