Strassman nodded, moved three steps, and hit a button. Klaxons sounding “abandon ship” rang throughout the embattled vessel. Henricks knew he would hear those horns in his dreams for the remainder of his life.
He and Strassman checked each member of the CIC and bridge teams. They helped those still alive and said a quick prayer for the dead. They herded and carried crewmembers down the corridor to the nearest bank of escape pods. People were shoved into pods and when full, the pods were ejected into space. Both officers moved through compartments and drove crewmembers out of them to safety. They picked up other officers along the way and ordered, carried, or dragged men and women to pods. Pods were launched full to overflowing to ensure crewmembers escaped the inferno. The ship’s officers continued to search as fire and explosions consumed Valkyrie. Finally, Captain Henricks ordered all officers and remaining crewmembers to pods. The ship was in her death spasms. They could not die with her. Officers and crewmembers made to the nearest pods and abandoned ship. Henricks, Strassman, and a few others made one final sweep of compartments they could reach, and then moved to the last pod remaining. They sealed themselves in and launched. The pod barely cleared the ship when a large explosion shook her entire length. One of the engines had gone up.
The pod rolled and tumbled as it cleared the blast. The occupants had strapped in and survived with no additional injuries. Henricks unstrapped himself and rose to look out one of the thick portholes. He counted escape pods. He moved from porthole to porthole. There were several dozen pods drifting around him. A small good fortune within this defeat. Also, despite their reputation, the pirates were not playing laser tag with the pods. Henricks arrived back at the original porthole and looked out again. As luck would have it, the outside view was of Valkyrie dying. He placed his forehead against the thick acrylic glass and watched. She was breaking into pieces as she disintegrated from within. He couldn’t bear to see it, but he would not pull himself away. After all, it was his fault and he owed her that much. He would not turn away from his fine ship as she died.
However, the pod continued to slowly tumble and Valkyrie disappeared from view. Her death scene was replaced by a single destroyer moving sedately through the turmoil. Henricks knew it to be an Edinburgh built Clan class destroyer. A beautiful ship, graceful lines, and well proportioned. The final expert touch was a perfect rendition of a running cheetah emblazoned across her hull. The ship moved as sedately as a passenger liner leaving port. Raferty Hawkins. Henricks closed his eyes. He wondered if Hawkins had heard him gloating as the pirates were closing the trap about him. Probably not, but subspace communication was tricky. It really didn’t matter because Concannon would tell him, probably amidst much laughter.
As if thinking of him summoned the message, the pod communications speaker sprang to life. “Captain Henricks, are you there?”
Every escape pod in the universe was required to have communication equipment that could monitor the universal-distress-and-safety channel. This was done by agreement on a universal scale so all pods everywhere had the frequency and all ships were required to monitor this same frequency to aid those in distress in space. The Imperial Navy escape pods could dial up any frequency needed but they all monitored the universal freq. Each pod drifting in space had heard the call. The voice was measured and calm. It was not a call from another pod where the caller would be out of breath from abandoning ship and coming down from the adrenalin high of having cheated death. No, this voice was cool and deliberate. A simple question stated in a neutral tone. Henricks had no doubt as to who it was.
Henricks stared at the comm speaker. He didn’t want to answer and he knew why. He didn’t want to identify himself to the others in his pod and to all the other pods. This was absurd and Henricks knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. He had been captain of Valkyrie for eight months and was wearing his uniform now so everyone in his pod knew whom he was. The other pods would find out soon enough as he would organize and direct them until help arrived. He was embarrassed to be alive when so many others under his command had died. His fault. He set his jaw. Action now. Recrimination later.
He reached for the toggle switch below the speaker. “This is… Henricks.”
He didn’t say captain. In the Imperial Navy, as in several other navies, the term captain serves two distinct purposes. On one hand, captain is a rank. It is above commander and below light admiral in the Imperial Navy. The other purpose of the term is to identify those who were in command of ships. When Henricks held the rank of commander or fregattenkapitan, he was in command of a destroyer and was addressed as captain in all matters pertaining to his ship. When he was promoted to the rank of captain and given command of Valkyrie, he was always addressed as captain. Even in situations in which the speaker was saying captain because he saw the insignia on his uniform, Henricks choose to believe it was because he was the master of a ship of the Imperial Navy. He loved being the captain of a naval ship. It had been his goal all his life and it was as joyous and fulfilling as he had hoped. But he couldn’t say captain now; he was no longer master of a ship.
The cool, calm voice answered his identification call. “Be advised we have contacted two nearby freighters who will be here in just under two hours. We have also sent a message to a Sunrise patrol boat who is five hours away from you if they choose to respond.”
“Noted.”
Henricks spoke the terse response and then fell silent. He could think of nothing more to say. The notification to other nearby vessels was a kind gesture. Each of his ships sent data streams back to Rosstrappe and to Fleet flagship vessels operating throughout the sector so rescue would have come eventually, but this calling to nearby vessels would shave hours or even days off that. Many of the wounded would be grateful for the quick rescue and lives would be saved. Henricks knew this, but still couldn’t muster any gratitude. He admitted to himself if the situation was reversed, he would not do the same thing. They were just a bunch of damn pirates. Then he remembered the chance would never present itself. Pirates did not routinely carry escape pods on their ships. Apparently, the pirates had already concluded nobody would make such a kind gesture on their behalf. Besides, even if someone wanted to make such an effort on the pirate’s behalf, there was nobody to call to come to the rescue.
The comm speaker was quiet now. Clearly, Hawkins just wanted to pass the information on and be done with them. Henricks reflected on the voice. So matter of fact and to the point. There was no note of triumph or bravado. Not even satisfaction. He wondered if Hawkins even took pride in the success of his tactics and his people. Had he won so many victories this was just another one of no particular importance? Henricks recalled an Old Earth quote, “just another day at the office.” Was that true of Hawkins? Today was a turning point in Henricks’ life, and he suddenly had the awful sensation if he ran into Hawkins five years from now, the man wouldn’t remember this battle. But Henricks would remember. He activated the speaker. “All pods. This is Captain Henricks. The senior person on each pod will take command. On your assigned ship frequency, compile a list of all aboard your pod and the state of the wounded. Once that is done, report your numbers to me on Valkyrie’s freq. Reports will be by ship. Absolut, Harmonie, Ziggy, and Valkyrie in that order.”
He let go of the toggle switch and took a deep breath. It was quiet in the pod. Henricks realized the crew would naturally be quiet in the presence of their captain. He also knew it was much more than that. He had played a variety of sports growing up, and defeated teams were always quiet after a contest, particularly if it had been a distinctly one-sided affair.
Reports started coming in and Strassman took the numbers. The captains of Absolut and Ziggy did not get off their ships. Harmonie’s captain was wounded but would live. Absolut took the highest percentage of casualties, only one third of her crew got off. Harmonie got three quarters off while Valkyrie and Ziggy were at fifty percent. Henricks shook his head. He felt dizzy. Strassman noticed his Captain’s state.
“What?” Henricks looked down. His right pant leg had blood soaked through from his thigh to his ankle. He did not remember being hit but he must have taken shrapnel or debris in his thigh while evacuating crewmembers. He nodded to Strassman and sat on a bench. A med tech approached with a hypo to deaden the area before probing for and removing metal in his leg. Henricks shook his head and said, “Save the hypo for those in real pain.”
“I may have to probe around in the wound. Could hurt quite a bit, Captain.”
“Supplies are limited and should be saved for the real wounded. I can take it. Do it when you’re ready.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” The med tech cut the pant leg and went to work. He quickly found a five-centimeter sliver of metal in his captain’s thigh and removed it. He lasered shut the wound and put a bandage on it. Henricks gritted his teeth, but was quiet throughout the procedure.
“All done, sir. Stay off your leg for an hour or so.”
“Thank you for the quick and professional work.”
The med tech nodded respectfully and moved to other wounded. Henricks settled back for a moment. The pods were organized and the wounded being helped as much as possible. He could give himself a minute now.
To advance within the Imperial Navy, officers had to spend shipboard tours on the two borders with the Aurora Empire and the Orion Confederation. Most officers wanted to be stationed there to advance their careers and serve the Imperial Empire. Each border was static and, with the exception of chasing smugglers, very boring. But on the other side of each border were two potential enemies with the ability to destroy the Goldenes Tor. This was where the gravest potential danger lay.
On all other borders of the Imperial Empire were independent systems or groups of systems with the worst of these being the Badlands. The Badlands pirates could not destroy the Empire, and were considered only an annoyance by the central government. However, the reality was, the only fighting and action Goldenes Tor forces faced on a continuous basis were in the Badlands. Forces engaged there found being shot at and possibly killed were much more than an annoyance. Henricks’ tours on the two static fronts with no combat had ill-prepared him for the Badlands. He had been here for less than a month and had lost his entire command.
He thought of all this during his quiet moment. Suddenly Aimee came into his mind unbidden. He and his wife had three children. Aimee had been the oldest at the age of eight when she had been struck and killed by an air car. That had been ten years ago. He thought of Aimee every day. The last time had been this morning, which now seemed an eternity ago. He now thought of her in a way he had not done in years. He thought about the day she had died. Her death had been the worst day of his life. Henricks was an honest man and he still considered that to be the worst day of his life, but today was a close second, a very close second.
Chapter 21
Prairie Dog entered the final approach to the civilian side of the spaceport at Rosstrappe. The small freighter moved slowly, so Baby Doll and Blondie had maximum time to record the noise of the planet and its two moons, and record the images of the military base on the far side of the planet. Once the planet of Rosstrappe blocked their view of the naval base, Baby Doll and Blondie shut down their listening recorders and video screens, and packed them into cases. The civilian port authorities were usually casual about inspecting incoming ships, but it would not do if this equipment was discovered. The two women moved their loaded cases to their billeting space and hid them in a special cabinet recently built for exactly that purpose. The recording of the emissions of the planet and its two moons would augment the knowledge they already had. The video would confirm the predicted courses of the planet and moons, and show the traffic in the naval base.
Blondie and Baby Doll returned to the bridge to watch the final seconds of docking. The port was crowded with freighters in various stages of loading or unloading. As the small trader slowed to enter her berth, both pirates scanned the immediate area and then looked further out. Nothing unusual was noted. As the major border port between the Badlands and the Goldenes Tor, every type of civilian ship was represented. Prairie Dog blended in and attracted scant attention.
As the ship was secured, Kit Kinkaid turned to the two women. “We break seal in twelve hours.”
She turned and departed the bridge to see to the unloading of her cargo and the loading of a new consignment. She was not interested in what the two pirates would do. Kit operated under the idea she didn’t have to lie about things she knew nothing about.
Two weeks ago, Predator and Nemesis entered the same Edinburgh shipyard used by Bandit and Vindictive. The overhaul and other upgrades would take three weeks. The two crews had scattered with the majority going to their squadron houses to visit loved ones. Blondie had stayed with the ship for the first week of the overhaul, but the lure of going on a spy mission proved too much to keep her tethered to the ship. If time had been pressing, this mission would not have happened, but the timing allowed for a mission to fill in the gaps in the intelligence. Also, it contributed to Blondie’s ongoing education on being a pirate. Four days ago, Baby Doll and Blondie joined Prairie Dog for the voyage into Rosstrappe. It was time to get last minute intel on the base.
The two women departed Prairie Dog and took transportation to the far side of the planet where the base was located. They couldn’t get onto the military installation, but could visit the bars outside the installation’s gates. Here would be the likely watering holes for the people stationed on the Rosstrappe naval base. People who would be relaxing with a drink after a long day at work. Maybe several drinks.
For once, Baby Doll was nondescript with brown shaggy hair and no makeup. Blondie was equally plain. The two wore clothes of no distinct color, fashion, or style. Much as their tramp freighter transportation, they blended in. They would not be remembered by anyone who crossed their path. The two companions spoke little on the public transportation. They disembarked near one of the main gates to the base and moved up the street. The avenue looked just like a thousand other streets next to a thousand other military installations. There were pawnshops, tattoo parlors, strip clubs, and many, many saloons.
The two women scanned the area continuously without appearing to do so. Blondie suddenly realized the constant scanning had become a habit with her. She wasn’t sure when it began, but now it seemed as much a part of her daily routine as breathing. She was definitely getting the hang of being a pirate. Her other newly acquired habit, of always having her dagger on her person, had to be foregone. She had not been without her dagger since she had received it, and now felt its absence keenly. She had not realized she had become so attached to the weapon, but there was no other explanation. The threat of being searched was too great, so each woman left her dagger on Predator. But for each, there was the comfortable feeling of a fully charged shooter in the small of her back under her shirt.
Baby Doll nodded toward the door of one bar, and the two entered the crowded establishment. They talked briefly to a bartender, then took seats at a conspicuous table, shook off their jackets to reveal short blouses, and waited for the visits to start. It was a short wait. After brushing off a few locals and a group of low ranking sailors, the two struck up a conversation with two civilian port workers from the base. Not bound by the military emphasis on security, these two men were more than happy to discuss their jobs on the base, impressing these two women with their importance and skill. Baby Doll knew how to drive a conversation with any man while Blondie played her shy friend. The two men told them about the few ships in port, the expected traffic based on orders for resupply, and future reservations at docking facilities. Baby Doll had a knack for driving the conversation to get the information needed while not appearing to be doing it. The two men thought they were duly impressing these women, but all the while, they were actually providing a wealth of up-to-date knowledge on ships now present in port, and expecte
d ship traffic in the immediate future.
“I have a friend on a ship called Bergspitze, but I haven’t heard from her in a while. Is that ship in port?” Baby Doll asked innocently.
“I’m glad you said her and not him,” laughed one of the men. “The thing is Bergspitze is not here and won’t be for a long time. She was shot up in the Badlands and is back at the shipyards at Lichtenberg. Two destroyers named Regenwolke and Sterenhimmel went with her. The only ship from that squadron still here is named Abendhimmel.”
“I hope my friend is alright,” Baby Doll said with just the right tone of concern, she acted as if the names of the other ships went right by her.
“I’m sure she is fine,” the young man said soothingly as he slid his chair a little closer to Baby Doll and patted her hand.
Blondie suddenly stood up. “Bathroom trip.” She looked across the table at Baby Doll.
Baby Doll rose in response and patted the back of the man’s hand while smiling down at him. “You know we have to go in pairs. It’s the law for all women. Be back soon.” The man smiled up at her.
The women left their jackets on their chairs and moved through the large room toward a hallway. As they moved past the bar, a bartender picked up a box of empty bottles and followed them. They moved down the hall and out of sight of the main barroom. The two women passed the bathrooms and continued to the back door. The man followed them. He set down the box and produced a ring of keys. He unlocked the door, and the two women passed through. Baby Doll slipped him some bills as she passed. The door was closed, relocked, and the man placed his box on a stack of boxes before returning to the barroom.
“We need new jackets,” Blondie commented as the two proceeded up the alleyway.
“We’ll get some shopping done and grab a nice dinner before getting back to the Dog.”
A few seconds later Baby Doll continued. “A shame those three ships aren’t in the repair docks here. Would have been nice slamming some high explosives into them with them having no shields.”
Payback Is a Given: Pirates of the Badlands Series Book 2 Page 18