Even a small ship will be enough to deter pirates, she thought. Doubtless, selling them at such low prices will win us some goodwill.
She shook her head as she looked up at the display. They’d checked, as best as they could, but they didn’t know. It wouldn’t be hard for a greedy little toad on a stage-two world to resell the starship as soon as it arrived, then vanish out-system before anyone realized what he’d done. He probably wouldn’t survive—pirates hated to leave loose ends—but the prospect of being brutally murdered hadn’t stopped hundreds of idiots in the past. And he’d leave his homeworld with a serious problem. They would get the blame for anyone that ship killed.
“That always helps,” William said. “Just running patrols and making it clear that there will be accountability will encourage good behavior.”
“I hope so,” Kat said. She grinned at him. “Did you get your crewmen out of the brig?”
William looked embarrassed. A number of his crewmen had not only drunk themselves silly on Jorlem, they’d also taken a number of recreational drugs and gotten high. By the time the shore patrol had finally responded, the entire quadrant had been in chaos. The locals had stunned a number of crewmen and carted them off to the local jail, keeping them there to cool off. Kat had received a number of painfully polite communications from the planetary government about the whole affair.
Because they wanted to distract me from watching how they deal with the pirates, she thought. It isn’t as if spacers haven’t gotten drunk or high before.
“I did, eventually,” William said. “A couple of them will need long-term medical attention. They took enough crap to do permanent damage.”
Kat winced. She’d never understood why anyone took recreational drugs, particularly when direct brain stimulation was far less risky. Medical science could fix anything that didn’t kill the user, but it was far harder to overcome the cravings for bigger and bigger highs. Drug use onboard starships was a constant headache, even though it was more than enough to end a crewman’s career. Kat hated to think what her first CO would have said if he’d caught her with drugs. The old man would have pitched her out the airlock without a second thought.
“Take care of them,” she said.
“I intend to,” William said. “There’ll be punishment duties for everyone involved.”
Kat didn’t blame him. Bar fights weren’t exactly uncommon—there had been a whole string of fights between their respective crews as Uncanny’s inhabitants flaunted their new wealth—but they were embarrassing. She had no doubt the spaceport authorities would try to ramp up their claim for compensation as much as possible, knowing the Commonwealth would probably prefer to pay just to make the whole problem go away. She knew she didn’t have time to argue over each and every item on their list.
Bar stools, a million crowns each, she thought sarcastically. And a whore’s broken nose, ten thousand crowns, plus medical treatment.
She shook her head. If anyone had actually been injured during the whole affair, she rather doubted they would see any actual compensation. Whatever money Kat paid would go straight into an off-world bank account and vanish. The higher-ups would take the cash, their subordinates would get . . . nothing. She would be surprised if any of it was used to repair the damage and renovate the spaceport.
Which won’t stop them from trying to demand enough cash to build a whole new spaceport, she thought.
She pushed the thought aside. “We’ve secured the services of a colonist-carrier,” Kat said. The deal had been surprisingly cheap. There just wasn’t much call for such a vessel’s services in the Jorlem Sector. “I want you to escort that ship back to the pirate base, pick up the prisoners, and ship them to Haverford. We’ll meet you there.”
William nodded. “You intend to go directly to Haverford?”
“The pirates have been showing too much interest in that world,” Kat said. She’d meant to visit earlier, but liberating the cloudscoop and destroying the pirate base had taken priority. “It’s a stage-one, William. I don’t think they’re willingly supporting the pirates.”
“Which means they’re probably under occupation,” William agreed.
“Yes,” Kat said.
It was a worrying thought. There was no way anyone could get away with simply taking over a stage-one colony world within the Commonwealth, yet someone could have done just that on Haverford. Very few starships visited a colony that had so little to offer save food and women. A careful pirate leadership could have kept their takeover secret for years with minimal precautions. And even if she was wrong and Haverford wasn’t under occupation, the pirates could have bribed or threatened the planetary authorities into compliance.
“I’ll go straight there and find out,” she said. Haverford would have a use for a few hundred unwilling colonists, even former pirates. Stage-one colonists took a remorselessly practical view of the universe. The pirates could work or starve. “If they are under occupation, I’ll deal with it. If not . . . I’ll play it by ear.”
William studied the display for a moment. “If we fly straight to the pirate base, we can link up with you in two weeks, more or less,” he said. “Is that enough time to handle the planet?”
“I hope so,” Kat said. “If it isn’t . . .”
She shook her head. It was unlikely the pirates had enough weapons to stop Lightning. If worse came to worst, she could merely pick off their positions from orbit, dropping KEWs until the pirates surrendered or were wiped out. If they were holding an entire population hostage, she might have to dicker again and allow the pirates to trade their lives for the safety of the population. A single nuke in the right place would drive the death toll into the stratosphere.
“We’ll see you there,” she finished. “Do you have any other concerns?”
“We could do with some supply dumps, the sooner the better,” William said. “And ideally a little closer than Vangelis.”
“Aston Villa was talking about joining the Commonwealth,” Kat said. “They might agree to host a supply dump.”
“If they could protect it,” William said. “Your report suggests they want our protection.”
“They do,” Kat confirmed. “But I don’t know what, if anything, the Admiralty can spare.”
“A couple of dozen gunboats and a converted freighter would be more than enough,” William said. “And we have a surfeit of gunboats.”
“And all we need are the assault carriers to take them to war,” Kat said. Gunboats were easy to produce. Tyre had been grinding out thousands every month. “And then we can kick the enemy’s ass.”
She paused. “But you’re right,” she added. “A couple of squadrons of gunboats would definitely make a commitment.”
“And prove we will send more ships, if necessary,” William agreed.
Kat nodded. “While you’re gone, try and think of a way of luring Glory of God out for a fight,” she concluded. Her latest set of orders was unsatisfactory. “The Admiralty wants her destroyed, but not anywhere near Jorlem.”
“She’ll leave eventually,” William pointed out. “We can strike then.”
“Sure,” Kat said, “if we’re in position to follow her.”
“That’s the last of the crates,” the loader said. “Good luck!”
Joel waved good-bye as he turned and headed towards the shuttle’s cockpit. If there was one advantage to the whole disgraceful affair on the planet’s surface, it was that it had made it easy for him to ensure that his crates were only handled by his people. They had already been scanned and secured—or at least the records claimed that they had been scanned and secured—but he didn’t want to take the chance of someone deciding to open up one of the crates and taking a peek inside. It was too great a risk.
Despite regulations, Uncanny’s crew had a nasty habit of opening crates whenever they arrived. Joel was unwilling to count on Sir William having managed to break his crew of that particular habit, not when far too much of his future was at stake. If the wrong p
erson discovered a crate of weapons, particularly when the manifest stated hydroponics equipment, it would be catastrophic.
“Take us up to orbit,” he ordered as he sat down behind the pilot. “There’s no need to break records getting there either.”
“Yes, Chief,” the pilot said.
The shuttle came to life. Joel had found it easy to get himself tasked with supervising the loading—as senior chief, it was his job to make sure everything was properly loaded and secured—but he still felt tense. He was now committed to his plan in a different way. Now there was no hope of taking his money and vanishing into the planet’s population. He would take the ship . . .
And it isn’t just Uncanny now, he thought. There’s Lightning out here too.
He winced inwardly as he realized just how many things had gone wrong with the original plan. It would be easy just to take the ship—and perhaps even hand her over to the Theocracy—but that wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as what he had planned. No, the original plan was still workable . . . if they managed to do something about Lightning. To be sure, Lightning had a competent commanding officer and a very experienced crew. She wouldn’t be taken easily.
I can’t give up now, he thought. Not after I’ve done so much.
“We’ll be docked in ten minutes,” the pilot said. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
Joel chuckled, keying the console to bring up the orbital display. Jorlem’s orbital space wasn’t particularly crowded, not now. A surprising number of freighters, he’d been told, had departed mere hours after Lightning had arrived, heading out without taking on cargos or filing flight plans. Pirates or smugglers, he suspected; men who had reason to fear that they would be rounded up once the arrested fences on the planet started to talk. The only threatening sign was the looming bulk of Glory of God, holding position on the other side of the planet. Jorlem’s underground economy was in deep trouble . . .
. . . and yet, the system had a striking amount of potential.
Government made the difference, Joel knew. Tyre’s government had focused on long-term investment rather than trying to turn a quick profit. The original development corporation had folded into the monarchy rather than surrender control to an elected government . . . precisely as planned. But Jorlem? The planet had embraced democracy too quickly without all the underlying institutions that made democracy work. Hastiness had ensured the eventual destruction of democracy. And yet, the potential for a greater world was still there. Someone with vision needed to take control.
He deactivated the display and rose as the shuttle made its way through the hatch and landed neatly in the lower shuttlebay. His teams were already there, ready and waiting to move the crates into the holds. The pilot opened the hatches, the low hum of the drive fading away as the shuttle powered down. Joel stepped through the hatch, keeping his face under tight control. They were definitely committed now.
“We’re departing in two hours,” Crewman Thomas Rochester said quietly. “We’re heading straight back to the pirate base, then to Haverford.”
Joel wasn’t too unhappy. Haverford would make an ideal place to dump anyone who didn’t want to cooperate after they took the ship. He still had no idea what the pirates had been doing there—it was clear they’d failed to deter Sir William from investigating—but it hardly mattered. So few starships visited Haverford that no one would notice a settlement on the other side of the planet. Taking the supplies from the pirate base would be very helpful.
We can throw most of the pirates into space as well, he thought. He had no particular inclination to keep Sir William’s agreement with the bastards. That will put an end to any threat they pose.
He checked off the crates as they were moved into the hold, the three from the Theocracy steered into a side compartment and isolated. He opened one of the crates himself, once the loading was completed and the crews were dismissed, and checked the contents. The Theocracy had done a very good job. Stunners, assault rifles, grenades . . . anyone would think they’d expected to supply him with weapons.
They’re probably planning to supply terrorist cells with weapons, he thought morbidly. It had worked across the Commonwealth, although most of the terrorist cells had been rapidly rounded up after they’d reared their ugly heads. They’d caused a great deal of disruption, but very little significant damage. Subverting the entire sector might work in their favor, even if they lost the war. Their faith would live on.
“Chief,” Julia said as he left and sealed the compartment, “we’re going back to the pirate base.”
“I heard,” Joel said. He took a long moment to think. They needed to move after the pirate base but before reaching Haverford. “We’ll keep our heads down until after we strip the base bare.”
Julia nodded. “You still intend to move?”
“There’s no choice,” Joel said. “Either we move or we die.”
He glanced at his wristcom as a low rumble echoed through the ship. Sir William wasn’t wasting time. They’d be on their way shortly, with a cargo he knew he didn’t dare let anyone see. And then . . . victory or death. He had no illusions about their fate if they lost. Mutiny was a capital offense.
Perhaps it was a mistake not to desert when I had the chance, he thought. I could have vanished with ease. It’s far too late to contemplate that now.
He smiled humorlessly. Victory or death indeed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Captain,” Stott said, “our automated monitoring systems on the bubble report that a third of the pirates are dead.”
William let out a long breath as Uncanny decelerated towards the former pirate base. POWs were meant to maintain some discipline, but pirates hadn’t often had any discipline in the first place. Hell, he’d seen captured Theocrats break down into chaos after discovering just how willing their officers were to screw them. Nonetheless, losing a third of the prisoners was an embarrassment.
Not that many people will care, he thought.
“Order Major Lupine to start transferring the remainder of the prisoners to the colonist-carrier,” William ordered as he checked the feed from the pirate base. It didn’t look as though anyone had bothered to attempt to rescue the pirates, not entirely to his surprise. Pirates weren’t known for loyalty to their own kind. “Mr. XO, prepare to supervise the . . . stripping of the pirate base.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
The voyage had been uneventful. With only one ship to protect, Uncanny could have taken the gloves off if anyone had dared to attack her. The only real excitement for William, however, had come from chewing out the crewmen involved in the riot and monitoring their medical treatment, making sure that they received the best possible care.
“Once the base is stripped, destroy it,” William added. None of the records he’d checked on Jorlem or Vangelis, via StarCom, had pointed to the original owners. The founders had covered their tracks well. They could have remained hidden forever if the pirates hadn’t stumbled across them. “We don’t want to linger.”
“Aye, Captain,” Roach said.
William sighed as the hours started to tick by. Goodrich had come up with a wish list of supplies from the pirate base—and a list of components that could probably be sold, even if they couldn’t be refurbished to naval standards—but William honestly wasn’t sure if it was worth the effort. Yet, it did serve a purpose. The devil made work for idle crew—he knew from bitter experience. Giving the crew something to do, even if it was just make-work, would keep them out of trouble.
We did sell those ships on, he thought. Their new owners will want some of the supplies.
William glanced at the timer, then pulled up the latest set of reports. The Theocracy’s latest thrust into Commonwealth space had been stopped dead, according to one set of reports; the analysts had concluded that the Theocracy was likely reaching the limits of its strength. Even the most optimistic projections insisted that the Theocracy couldn’t have produced more than two or three squadrons o
f superdreadnoughts since the war began. And that meant that the Commonwealth would soon have a decisive advantage.
If we don’t have one already, William thought.
Every instinct in William called for liberating his homeworld as soon as possible, before the Theocracy could shatter what remained of its society beyond repair. Yet he knew the importance of building up the Navy into a force of overwhelming power. The Theocracy could explain away tactical defeats if it wanted, but not several hundred superdreadnoughts bearing down on its homeworld. And that would destroy the Theocracy’s faith in itself.
“Captain,” Stott said, “Major Lupine reports that the remaining prisoners have been transferred safely. The bubble is being deflated now.”
“Good,” William said. “Do we have a progress report from the XO?”
“Yes, sir,” Stott said. “He’s just finishing up.”
William rather suspected that they were wasting time. The pirates knew their base had been compromised. Soon enough, they’d know it had been destroyed too. They wouldn’t dare return to the unnamed star system. Uncanny needed to be patrolling the shipping lanes or escorting convoys, not hanging around in a useless system. They’d made an impact already, but he knew just how easily pirates could creep back into the system.
“As soon as he’s back, lay in a course for Haverford,” William ordered, anxious to begin the four-day trip. “Ready a couple of drones to pose as freighters.”
“Aye, Captain,” Thompson said. “Do you want to try to lure the pirates into our web?”
He looked surprisingly jumpy, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. William made a mental note to have a word with him if he didn’t improve.
“Ideally,” William said.
His console bleeped. “Captain, this is Roach,” the XO said. “The base has been stripped bare of everything usable, and I’ve brought the crews back to the ship. I can detonate the nuke on your command.”
Cursed Command (Angel in the Whirlwind Book 3) Page 31