by Chris Hechtl
“Aye, Skipper, that they be.”
“I think ten lashes for the next man or woman who steps out of line will help them see the errors of their ways,” the Neohyena growled.
More than one engineering tech flinched.
“Aye, ma'am. If we be arrangin' a flogging, we'll throw the schedule off though,” Mister Bacon warned.
“Aye, which is why I prefer to arrangin' them ahead of time. So, I'll let them off with a final warning. Be not testin' my patience again or the admiral's. He be less charitable then me,” she said, fingering her whip handle. “Be off with ya,” she said with a head nod in way of dismissal.
Instantly all six of the scalawags drifted off quickly and quietly.
“That should sink in for a few hours once it be brooded about. But I dunno how long it'll sink in for,” Mister Bacon said in an aside to her. “Some examples might be called for.”
She was tempted. She had to admit that she was tempted to vent some of her frustration and sadism. But she couldn't do it. Not when they needed every hand desperately.
“Aye. But we'll try the soft glove again for a bit longer.”
“Ma'am, if I be higher up on the food chain, I'd be wary of this. And they be right about the supplies. Some be getting' more than their fair share, and we all know supplies are limited. And, some be workin' like dogs, pardon the expression, for not much in profit if any,” he said with a nod to the techs in the distance.
The captain surveyed them and then back. She fingered her whip handle but then nodded. “I'll look into that too. But keep a lid on things or you'll be feelin' my lash too, Mister Bacon,” she said smartly.
“Aye aye, ma’am,” he said, pretending to touch the brim of a nonexistent hat as she made her way off.
<()>^<()>
Wida knew about the shortages in supply; it was just one headache of hers among many. She put another email through to Kix, but when he didn't get a response back to her, she arranged a visit to the flagship. She met with the admiral and talked with him alone when they had a quiet moment. “So, we're alone. What do you want, Captain?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“I'd think you were hitting on me, but we're not the same species. Not that it has stopped you before.”
She grinned. “Nay, it hasn't. My current husband case in point,” she said wickedly. “Of course, you had a hand in handfasting us,” she reminded him with a grin.
“True, there be some truth in that,” the admiral admitted, sitting back in his chair. “So? You're here to tell me there is a problem?”
“Ar, be it the supplies or others. Which do you want to hear first?”
“I know about the supply problem. Kix is on it. But it isn't good. Of course that be for us to know and others to guess,” the admiral said. “What's the other?”
“Ar. Not with engineering but with the hands. Tis the pressure. We're wearin' to the nubs. There be no profit in stayin’ overlong, my lord.” She kept her tones formal and ever respectful. She was fully aware of the danger she was placing herself in. Part of her job was to keep the lower ranks in line and to task.
The lion cocked his head thoughtfully for a long moment. Finally, he grunted and began to tap his fingers gently on the edge of the table. “Ar, but this be where the yard is and where the boneyard is.”
She nodded in agreement. “Ar, there is that. But there be talk of movin' on and such. We need to do something. You need to do somethin' or the pirate lords will do somethin' we'll all dislike if you catch my drift.”
The cat's fingers stilled but the tip of his tail and ears twitched. His good eye narrowed ever so slightly. “Have you heard anything?”
“Just scuttlebutt and dross. But it’s' pickin' up. More and more are sayin' such bellyachin’ out loud, if you know what I'm sayin,” she said hastily, laying one finger alongside her nose.
He nodded slowly. “I thank thee for thy support,” he said with a regal nod to her. She bowed ever so slightly.
“You've given me plenty of work, I will admit that,” she said with a laugh. He smiled at her gallows humor. “But do think about it.”
“I have. And I'm still considering the plan. I'll call a meeting and air the points before they fester into a boil.”
“Ar,” she said with a nod. She flicked her short tail and sniffed the air. “My feckless husband seems to be off,” she noted.
He chuckled. “When he heard you were coming, he hopped the first supply shuttle. I'll bet you a gold coin he won't return until you are long gone,” he said.
“Pity, I could use a break and some time to work off some of this stress,” she said, making a show of cracking her knuckles. The admiral chuckled softly. “That's okay; I'll catch up with him eventually.”
“I'll let him know you said that,” he said dryly.
Her eyes twinkled as she winked and then showed herself out.
Chapter 14
The admiral wasn't keen about the pirate lord meeting but he had no choice. He needed to settle things with the lords and quell any potential unrest. And, he needed them to be on board with his plan.
In order to do that and maximize his chances of success, he called in Black Corsage. The excuse was to repair and resupply, but it was a threadbare one at best. He knew Captain Gutt was still bitter over not being able to catch the two Fed tin cans.
When they met up, he couldn't help but twitter the ape over it. “Getting old. Old and slow,” he teased.
The ape snorted, eyes glowering. “Just one. I'd like just one of the bastards to come a little closer. Just one.”
“That's just it, they know your arms’ reach and are smart enough to stay out of it.”
The Neoorangutan gave him a sour look. He shrugged. “Your reputation precedes you.”
Captain Gutt snorted and waved a hand. But his large lips couldn't help but pucker slightly in a smirk. “Well, I can't say it's not nice to be appreciated and feared by the other side.”
“True.”
“So, why the meeting?”
“I think that much is obvious. We need to leave. I'm going to allow the first convoy to go to Dead Man's Hand. I want you to take charge of the convoy and the base.”
“Go as slow as the slowest ship?”
“Nay. They can come at their own best speed. I'll not be havin' any of that. You can go at your best speed too.”
“Ar,” the ape growled in agreement as they walked into the conference room.
He had announced the meeting a day in advance so some ships could get within range of the discussion. Many of the lords attended the conference virtually. They didn't want to risk infection.
“Lively now,” the admiral said, calling them to order.
“Lively? More like lily-livered cowards for not coming over,” Captain Gutt said with a snort. There were some protests from the group.
“Enough. I called ye here to explain my plans. We be leavin' this cursed system soon. Captain Gutt here will be leadin' the first convoy.”
There were yars and ars of agreement over that announcement.
“It'll be on our terms. We take everything we can that's not nailed down. We'll come back for more as time permits, lads and lassies,” the admiral stated.
Heads nodded in agreement. A few looked dubious but others were thoughtful. Most showed signs of relief at finally doing something and getting away from the destroyed base.
Leonidas couldn't blame them; he wanted to get away too. There were too many memories there.
<()>^<()>
Captain Dab watched the pilot smoothly follow the buoys that marked the path through the boneyard. Buoys were cheap and everywhere; her machine shops had turned them out when the pirates failed to pick up any they ran across elsewhere.
The solar-powered buoys were also used in nebulas, inside ports, or in thick rubble belts. A small pilot boat like the one she was on was used to move pilots in and out to the big ships. The regular helmsman were just too ham-handed to navigate a big ship in port.
The pilots know the station, base, and yard like the back of their hand. They coordinated with the tug pilots to move the larger ships around through lanes and into docks or mooring spaces.
Ships like the big fat ass bulk freighter coming in behind her.
Logistics were technically not her bailiwick. But she'd had to take a hand into things when the packing had begun. The admiral wanted her people to continue to work right up until he pulled Black Death out. But how were they supposed to do that if he sent the equipment and parts she needed off into the bowels of a ship? She hoped and prayed someone somewhere was keeping a manifest of everything and which ship was carrying what.
She made a mental note to ask Kix about it later. He should know.
Kix had dropped the ball on a few things as of late but seemed to be recovering. Scuttlebutt was that the Horathian betrayal had hit him hard. So had the speculation that his family had been killed. Just about everyone knew someone's brother, cousin, or whatever who'd gone to Horath with the expectation of rising through the ranks.
Now they knew the truth—the bitter, bitter truth. They truly were on their own.
She watched the small pilot boat sneak in-between two larger ships ahead of them. It was a risky maneuver but the pilot had it down. He flipped the tug up on its side perpendicular to the others so there wouldn't be any node interference.
Not that anyone was using their wedges when they were so close together.
They'd made a good dent in the boneyard and prize yard. Actually, there was no more prize yard; every ship there had been serviceable. They were all loaded and getting ready to move out.
And yet, it still had made only a small dent in what they had accumulated over the centuries.
The boneyard had several hundred ships that were going to be left behind along with several dozen station or other components. Her people had worked to strip out as much as they could and loaded them aboard the freighters. Every warship had been stripped to the frame.
She'd found early on that ships that had been in the yard for years were just as worn as those that were relatively fresh. Ships that had come in over the centuries had been picked over and had spent years being neglected.
Ships that had been captured in the past century had been used for centuries with a minimum amount of maintenance. Most had ended up in the prize yard, though some of the small fry or extremely bent-up or old ships had ended up in the boneyard or sold back to the lubbers.
They had a week to finish their checks on Convoy 1. The moment they were clear to go she intended to pull her people and concentrate them on the next convoy. The admiral wanted everything moving and out of the system in a month for security reasons. That meant sleep was about to become a luxury for some.
And that meant mistakes were bound to happen. She'd have to have her people triple check everything with separate inspectors … she frowned and shook her head. That might cause trouble, like finding something missed and throwing the schedule off. But, if they didn't find it and the ship was lost …
She turned her head to the left to note another boat that was docked with a ship. Transfer of pilots between ships could be tricky and dangerous when they were underway. Many did an EVA rather than burn the time for a shuttle to dock. Someone wasn't taking chances. She shook her head ever so slightly at the sight and then turned away.
The shadow of one giant ship made her look up through a porthole. She was one of the three bulk freighters that had just come online. Good. And the tugs had her well in hand, also good. She also didn't need servicing from the yard, which was a bonus all in itself.
If the larger ships tried to use their main engines, the thrust would affect other things around them in the tight confines of the base. If it was used in the yard, eventually the effects would move some of the anchored ships off station.
Big ships were also slower and less maneuverable. The more mass and size they had the harder they were to move and stop.
Things looked well in hand though, so she returned her attention to the paperwork.
The gigs of paperwork she thought in annoyance. What were they, pirates or navy? She tugged on an earring but then sighed and dug in.
<()>^<()>
Captain Black scratched an itch as he tried to focus on the job at hand. He'd been exclusively assigned to Black Death's repairs initially, but Captain Dab had pulled him off to work on the other ships when they had to wait on a part or something or other. He was well aware that survivors who had escaped Tortuga were being press-ganged into all of the running ships. They are given a choice, learn or get spaced. Everyone had to play their part—no dross, no dead weight.
He was particularly proud of managing to get three bulk freighters back online. One of the hyperdrives and one of the power plants were what he'd consider iffy, but they were in space and more or less flying on their own. The crew would have to be mindful and attend to their ships needs carefully.
Yesterday Captain Dab had allowed him to resurvey a massive gantry ship. The giant ship rivaled Black Death in sheer size. She had once moved over-sized loads across the stars. The survey had passed muster. Captain Dab had signed off on his idea of putting the ship to work to move the largest parts of the yard.
Which was a good thing considering he had no intention of being left alone when everyone else left.
Now he needed to make his idea work. He scowled as he puzzled over how to fit the pieces. He couldn't move forward with the project and more importantly pitch it to the brass until he had a solid plan in place. Which was turning out to be tricky.
<()>^<()>
Leonidas had realized a week after nuking Tortuga that he couldn't do that again. The boneyard was too dispersed as were all the warehouses and such throughout the inner and outer star system. There is not enough missiles to go around.
Nor could he afford to nuke the yard. He has to conserve the few missiles and resources he had left to work with. The same for explosives. He briefly considered sun scuttling the ships, but it would take a lot of work and fuel to move them into degrading orbits to the sun.
Instead, he had settled on stripping the boneyard and loading the material on the prize ships in the various convoys. He'd also agreed to a plan by Captain Black to booby trap random ships in the boneyard and other places. That would keep the Feds at bay. If they were forced to destroy the contents, so be it. Let them waste their missiles and time.
He even let Captain Black make elaborate booby traps with no prize at the center just to screw with the heads of the Feds. They'd think there was something important there, much like the lubbers chased buried gold on old long-lost Terra herself. Needless to say, every warship frame was booby trapped in some way. Most of what he was leaving behind were small fry, ships that had been brought in over the centuries. A few were derelict sections that had come in centuries before his arrival. Those had already been picked over by generations of pirates.
But he'd had them trapped anyway.
And, if they took long enough about clearing it all, the time spent might let him come back for some of the prize later—if he could regroup enough to be confident on raiding the place that was.
Come back with a lot more ships and weapons he thought in anger.
His people began to oversee the final evacuation plan of the star system. Ships that had been brought back online were readied for the journey to Dead Man's Hand, the closest base to him. The four prize ships that had come in were refueled and stuffed with cargo and personnel. They and two dozen other prize ships were ready to go.
When he was confident the first group would survive the journey, he ordered them out with a series of recorded orders for the pirate lords and ships they encountered. Captain Gutt's ship brought up the rear. That was typical of the old ape, to let the others take the first heat.
The personnel and engineers in the yard and orbital works were his most precious resource. He refused to abandon the yard, which meant finding a way to take it apart and move it. A giant un
dertaking since they had to keep using the thing to get ships ready to move and repair his beloved Black Death.
A germ of an idea was beginning to foment in his mind. He'd have to see the status of a few things and see how the move turned out before he discussed it with anyone though.
<()>^<()>
Captain Gutt noted the gaggle of ships ahead of him. His people were trying to keep the useless idiots more or less in lines. Twenty-eight freighters, all fat with booty that had been accumulated from all over the area over the centuries. Not to mention hundreds of people, some of them family for some of the crew.
“Try to keep up,” he growled in a transmission to the group. “Last ship gets left behind.”
<()>^<()>
The Arboth class destroyer Slash and Tear, watched the pirate movements and activities throughout the star system. The movement of a large convoy force was brought to the attention of the skipper Captain Kalua.
She initially believed it was a reaction force until she was advised it was headed away from them. Then she recalled the activity around the ships over the past several weeks. No doubt the pirates had been stockpiling them with goodies and people at the time.
“They are definitely moving out. It's not a mass exodus, more like a staged withdrawal,” the XO reported.
“I see that. I wonder what they are planning and where they are going,” Lieutenant Commander and ship's captain Angie Kalua stated. She sometimes regretted leaving Caroline for her own first command but not in times like this. Being a picket ship in enemy territory definitely kept one on their toes.
It was also not very conductive to sleep. She had to work out hard sometimes to wear herself out enough to fall asleep.
“From the look of things, they are going to evac north. The question is where they'll stop.”
“Aye. Keep an eye on them and make sure we try to get as much as we can. I'd like to know what they are pulling out.”