by Chris Hechtl
“CIC, look into the rock. See what you can find. The closer the better, obviously the further we have to go the more likely we'll be seen.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
<()>^<()>
Black Death
Captain Baker had felt an instant thrill of fear when the ship had been confirmed as a Fed and not the overdue Saladin. His hopes to see Big Boots Bill again were fading quickly. The ship was months overdue and most likely lost to the hands of the damn navy.
“Only one ship, sir. That has been confirmed,” CIC reported again.
“Just a scout,” Nim Chimpsky, the Neochimp TAO, said, shoulders briefly slumping in relief. “We've confirmed it, sir, just one point source. Based on the size we're talking about a tin can,” he said, looking at the admiral.
“I know,” the admiral rumbled. The arrival of the ship had initially panicked some of the ships in the system. Some had seemed ready to break ranks. But a brief warning and a call to battle stations from the flagship had ended that.
Well, that and any ship who had tried to move had been lashed and then locked up by the battlecruiser's active sensors, a firm warning of intent. It was billed as an unscheduled tracking exercise, but the officers involved knew it was far more than that.
That enemy ship was an audience he could do without. Not that he had a choice. The follow-up reports came in quickly. It was clear that the two ships detailed to chase them had lost their prey in the outer reaches of the star system. Most likely they'd lost the scent early on. Captain Gutt's report stated that he believed they'd been chasing a ghost.
Which went to show the lengths the Feds would go to expend material. They could replace it apparently he thought in annoyance. From Captain Gutt's tone of voice, the two captains of the two tin cans were lucky they were out of arm and Cutlass reach. For their own survival, they might want to keep it that way, at least for the time being.
Captain Gutt was right though; they were not a properly organized and trained military force. They were, after all, pirates. They'd spent too long going after easy prey. Now that they were up against an armed opponent his people were not making the grade.
Which was a problem. A serious problem he admitted. His plan to bring at least one or more ships in the boneyard back online to help drive the Feds out was now a distant memory.
Leonidas scrubbed at his beard. The Fed ship was forcing his hand. Forcing him down a path he'd hoped to avoid.
No, to be honest it was coming anyway. He knew it just from the status reports coming from Sho. They weren't winning against the plagues. It was time to cut their losses. The decision was deceptively easy. The consequences for it would be heartrending and brutal for some time though.
But, he was a sailor, a spacer, and in command. He'd take it on.
“They didn't send more? Why the hell not?” Captain Baker asked, sounding affronted. He tugged on one earring thoughtfully. “I don't like it. Could it be a trap?”
“She's conserving her resources. And she wants to know what we've got,” the admiral rumbled, rubbing his jaw and then stroking his beard. He had renewed respect for the human Federation officer. She was smart not to dive in without first scouting Tortuga. “This changes things.”
“Sir?” the Neochimp captain asked warily.
“We can't sit here. We've got the plague in our ranks, and we've got the Feds watching over our shoulder, ready to strike.”
“Sir, if we could trap that tin can, maybe catch it … we might be able to get the cure,” the TAO said hopefully.
His eyes searched the admiral's single eye for some sign. They both knew the likelihood of that statement was vanishingly small.
It was tempting to call the ship and ask for the cure. In theory they might give it to him. But it would destroy his base of support to grovel to the Feds.
“If. One pile of ifs built on another like a house of cards. We can't count on any of that,” the admiral stated mildly. He saw the stubbornness in his subordinate's eyes and shook his head in resignation. “You and I both know we can't count on taking the ship intact, let alone her databases or crew! They know what we'd do to them. Besides, they'd fight back or run.”
“It'd just get us sorry and sore. More than we already are,” Kix chimed in.
“Exactly,” the admiral stated. “No, we need to alert the other bases, and I need to shift my flag if we can't get a handle on these plagues.”
“What about those left behind? If we move we'll leave them. And some might buckle and invite the Feds in. They'll have everything—the station, the yard, all of it,” Kix reminded him. “There is a hell of a lot there, a lot we've spent centuries investing in.”
The Neolion nodded grimly. The yard in Tortuga was his best, that went without saying. “We can't allow it. They'll grow faster once they get their hands on all of our ill-gotten gains. Well, we can't have that.” He grinned ever so briefly as Kix snorted. Kix stopped snorting when he realized the admiral's intent. His green eyes widened as he stared at the lion searchingly for any other answer then the one the admiral was leading him to.
“They are already a force to be reckoned with! We can't allow them to have the base, sir,” Nim said urgently.
“I realize that,” the Neolion admiral said softly as he came to a decision. It was surprisingly simple when he remembered the pirate code. There really was only one answer left.
“Sir, the death toll is rising. What do we do?”
“I hate to say it, but there is one thing.”
“Sir?”
“Give them mercy.”
Nim sucked in a protesting breath and then nodded once. “I'll give the order,” he said quietly.
“No,” the admiral said, squaring his shoulders. “I'm in charge. This is on me. I'll do it,” he said, voice rough with emotion.
And that was true. He was the admiral, the ultimate decider of who lived and who died. That was the position of any ship's captain or flag officer. It was one that few ever forgot once a suitable reminder was experienced.
He had rarely been callus about his bloodlust, keeping it sharply leashed. It wouldn't do to have your crew think of you as a raving lunatic. But one couldn't be thought of as too soft either. A famous human had once said to balance fear and love to earn respect.
It was time to remind some that he was to be feared as well as respected once more. “Set up the shot,” he rumbled.
The TAO looked at him for a long moment. When his eye lowered to the TAO, the chimp blinked and then nodded choppily.
“You heard the admiral. Three tubes should do it,” he said gruffly, passing on the orders and setting the shot up. “Make sure everyone including the yard is clear.”
“Aye,” Nim said.
Leonidas felt the eyes on him, staring at him with respect and awe. Maybe a healthy dose of fear and resentment, he wasn't sure. Nor did he care. They knew what had to be done. He'd left it overlong. There was no way they could go back into the base, not when it was infected. And, according to the reports he'd read, the various plagues resisted exposure to vacuum. Venting the base wouldn't work.
And those who were still alive were carriers. They were dead men walking; they just didn't know it.
“Sir, Doctor Sho is calling,” a comm tech said quietly.
“Put him through,” he said. He could sense that some didn't approve of that. Well, that was too bad.
“Do you have good news, Doctor?”
“No,” the tired human said. “I was hoping some from your end. We're about out of supplies and options. Some of the plagues are entering their terminal phases. We can't stop the spread. Do you have anything?” he asked, voice leeched of hope.
“The cure is coming, Doctor,” Admiral Ishmael stated as he pushed the button. He would carry the burden of killing their shipmates. He watched the plot as the missiles leapt from the flagship's tubes. The XO and TAO look at him wordlessly in horror, but he said nothing, eye intent on the plot.
“Good because we've got to …
you … what's happening??” They could hear the growing sounds of panic in the background.
“You said you had a cure! You said you were helping! You bastard! You bas …!” The doctor was cut off mid-rant with a spurt of static signaling his final transmission.
The admiral's gold green eye turned to an image of the base as it was torn apart by nuclear fire. Each puff was brief; there was some air that had escaped the base over the centuries, but not nearly enough to create a pressure wave.
“Give them mercy,” he said, finally closing his eye from the sight of his own ruthless actions.
“Give them mercy,” the sentiment echoed throughout his flag bridge as officers and enlisted rose to give a final salute to comrades and kin whose lives had just been snuffed out.
The Neolion's head hung briefly as he clutched his fist to his chest. He wouldn't put it past anyone to be enraged enough by his actions to shove a knife in his back. But the blow didn't come. Slowly his shoulders straightened.
At least, not for now he thought as he turned and began to issue fresh orders.
<()>^<()>
Captain Gutt nodded when he heard the timid report. The destruction of the base was all but a sure thing; he actually thought Leonidas had left it overlong. It was fun to play with your prey and drink in their suffering, but when it was a mate, it was time to cut your losses and pay your last respects.
Now, if they could just do something about that noisome fly of a Fed ship spying on them he'd feel even better.
<()>^<()>
The ATO had the evening watch when CIC called in a report of explosions. She wandered into the CIC to find out what was going on.
“Explosions? Can you be more specific?”
“At this range and at those sizes, it has to be nukes that we saw go off, ma'am. RD 4 got the take, ma'am,” the puzzled sensor tech stated, pointing to the screen.
“Well, I'll be damned,” the officer of the watch, said with a shake of her head. She leaned over his shoulder to watch the feed over and over again.
“Ma'am? What does it mean?” Spacer Andrew Nache, the senior sensor tech on duty, asked. Demon Chaser was running shorthanded. Badly shorthanded according to the opinions of many on board. Not that it had stopped them from doing their duty anyway.
“Damned if I know for sure. The explosions came from where?”
“Tortuga. It looks like that big bastard, the flagship, fired on the base. But I don't understand why?” the tech said, shaking his head in confusion.
The ATO studied the read out and a replay of the launch and explosions. The thermal profile was spot-on for a missile launch and nuclear explosion. Three of them to be exact, though she wasn't so sure using just passive sensors alone. “Best guess? I think it was as simple as cutting off their nose to spite their face. They saw us arrive and are getting set to get out of dodge. And they don't want to leave anything behind that they don't want us to have.”
“Seems a little soon. And like overkill to me,” Andrew said dubiously.
“True. But be glad they didn't booby trap it.”
“True, ma'am. There is that.”
“I think we need to go over this again. The XO or skipper are due by sometime; I'd like to present them with a better report. Did we have any recon drones in the area?”
“Checking … no, ma'am. None facing that direction at that time.”
“Darn. So, just the one point of view and at extreme range,” the ATO said with a sigh. “Okay, we'll massage it the best we can while preserving the raw. Let's see what we can come up with.”
“Aye aye, ma'am.”
Chapter 6
Trajin Cluster
Eight cruisers, four of the Resolution class heavy cruisers, and four of the North Hampton light cruisers arrived in a sparkle of energy at the Airea 3 jump point.
They weren't alone. Two CEVs, ten Liberty class ships, two Cervidae class support ships, two Dora class support ships, and four Paul Revere class couriers were in a diamond formation behind them.
Once the warships were certain the area was clear, they informed the planet of their arrival.
Captain JG Obadiah Rogers was in command of the warship component of the combined convoy from the bridge of his heavy cruiser Remarkable. He'd learned early on that Commodore Richards might have a whim of steel, but she deferred to his judgement when it came to offensive and defensive actions as well as the day-to-day running of the convoy.
Which made sense since the woman had no experience in the operation of a ship let alone a convoy. Though she was a quick study. She also had no problem voicing her opinion nor in learning his. And he'd quickly realized that she still maintained overall command.
Captain Rogers checked the news from the messanger buoy nearby. He was gratified to hear about the ansible platform. He had his logs dumped to one of the couriers to bring them to the ansible and upload them and then ordered his force to planet Alpha orbit.
They had a long anticipated week in orbit for liberty coming up, and he had no intention of missing a moment of it. Bulkhead fever had spread throughout the ships under his command, and he fully intended to get some downtime, plague or no plague to alleviate it.
“Welcome!” a gushy voice said over the radio. He snorted. “We've been expecting you.”
He shook his head. “I'll just bet they have been.”
“You missed the other ships; they left a few months ago. You are just in time for some of our festival season. If you can stay an extra week, we promise you'll love it!” the voice said. He turned and rolled his eyes in despair to the XO. She snorted. The crew was going to be on them to stay the extra time. She just shook her head wryly.
Lovely the captain thought sourly. Just what he needed, people whining and trying to find creative ways to stay an extra week. Not that the commodore would let them. He was pretty sure she was already ready to move on.
“The plagues are gone. We've had the beginnings of a renaissance here if you can believe it! It's only going to get better, or so I've been told,” the voice said.
Right then the captain noted that the voice had to be female. Female and young. That was probably why so many of his people, specifically the males, were perking up.
“Better late than never I suppose,” the captain groused.
When the ships arrived in orbit three days later, the arrangements had been made for the crews to go down in shifts on the available shuttles. They were fortunate not to need the services of the four hospital ships, though the lead doctors had held a conference and had stated they wanted to get samples of the plagues and as much information from the surviving medics on the ground. That way they would know what to expect and come up with routines and the vaccines needed to cure the various plagues.
The captain wished them the best of luck. They were going to need it.
Two of his cruisers had to be detached for duty in the star system as a part of the accords with the natives. Eventually a warship in each subsystem would be needed. But he had to give up two now, and one of them had to be a heavy cruiser.
While his XO handled the shuttles going down and oversaw the quartermaster's work in resupplying the ships, Captain Rogers was swamped by calls from the other cruiser skippers. Each were begging off on being stuck on picket duty.
He sighed as he bumped his downtime. He might as well try to settle the problem before he headed down; otherwise, they'd hound him all over the damn planet he realized.
<()>^<()>
Commodore Helen Richards knew most of her people had bulkhead fever after such a long journey. She wanted to coordinate with the medics on the ground to get a look at the aftermath of the plagues so she didn't quibble about Captain Roger's one week stay.
What she had heard in the reports read for grim reading. If a person wasn't treated in the early stages of the plagues and somehow survived, they were left brutally scarred. Scarred in both mind and body. The twisted bodies could be repaired for the most part. The minds though … they were an entirely d
ifferent story.
Still, she'd do her damnedest to do what they could to alleviate the suffering.
<()>^<()>
Captain Rogers was grateful they had only the one planet to contend with. Ships had been dispatched to check on the others in the cluster. They'd rendezvous on their way to Platte. The current plan was to leapfrog Mercy Flight I wherever they found it and go on to the next outbreak area while heading to the capital.
He signed off on the request from the fighter community to hold training. They needed it; they'd been stuck in simulators since they'd made the long jump.
<()>^<()>
Helen silently toured the wards of the adult care facility. The kids had some hope of recovery. The adults though, some had been reduced to the mental level of a child and had little hope of rising above it ever again. Some were quite dangerous and were kept heavily medicated.
“This is just ward one. It's a light ward, the patients here graduate to it,” her human guide said. She nodded as she looked around. Most of the ward was made up of Neos. The Neos were clustered together by species. A few had dazed looks. Some were shy about her intrusion. She did her best to stay near her guide and to look nonthreatening.
“We class them by species type and how they are affected. The least affected try to help out where they can,” her guide said, indicating a bear who was acting under an orderly's gentle guidance to help clean the area. “Having them self-sufficient is important.”
“I see that. And it's a big morale boost when a patient can begin looking out after their own health and interests,” Helen murmured with a nod.
“Exactly. We'd like to wean them off the meds. We've got a lot of the predators on tranks and it's not good.”
“Long term, no, I agree. Any sign of recovery?”
“Some. Some backsliding too, we've had some become frustrated at the lack of recovery. It can be heartbreaking,” the guide said with a wince as a group trying to work with a volunteer with flashcards broke down. A Neodog began to howl in frustration over getting too many answers wrong.