Shiver Me Timbers

by Chris Hechtl

Puglia. Puglia might be a good option. But a single light cruiser wasn't enough. The enemy mounted heavy cruisers after all. She'd need help. Her inventory was a bit bare though. She had four heavy cruisers and two light cruisers in her cupboard. If she sent one heavy cruiser and one light cruiser … she didn't like the odds of their stopping Black Death if she came over the hyperwall with blood in her eye.

  But the risk might be outweighed by the rewards. No doubt her cruiser skippers would argue that. And would Ishmael anticipate it? Obviously, he hadn't anticipated it with the first deployment. But, then again, had he realized she wouldn't have been able to get ships into position to stop the first one in time?

  She shook her head. All the strategic double thinking made her want a drink.

  If she did send a heavy cruiser, it would almost have to be Strike in the Dark. Otto had done well in command of the aborted Kill Force. His decision to return had made the difference in the capital's survival.

  She hesitated, fingers hovering over a virtual keyboard.

  <()>^<()>

  Boni noted the commodore's indecision. She wished she could help. The human woman would listen to her, use her as a sounding board, but at the moment she hadn't asked.

  And, as a junior officer, it wasn't her place to step in and offer advice.

  She was curious though—would the commodore play it safe or would she take the risk and try to hammer the heart out of the enemy? Or would she keep her force in favor of moving into Tortuga? She laid odds that the commodore would be more intent on the real prize.

  <()>^<()>

  Shelby shook her head. Hang it, she wanted to send them but she couldn't. She just couldn't. She decided to table the matter for the time being, but she was pretty sure her reasoning in holding them back was sound. If Ishmael did move out, she'd have the ships move in after him. If he didn't and came after her, well, she'd have them on hand to defend the capital.

  <()>^<()>

  Captain Zeb listened to the reports and flicked his feather-like antenna as the ship's A.I. pointed out the deployment of the corvette. He wished his ship was going too.

  No, correction, he didn't. Zeng He was needed where she was at. What he truly wished was for his ship and others to go on the offense. He'd love to be in Tortuga ripping them apart.

  He was still thinking of possible tactical proposals when CIC reported an arrival at the Tau-1929 jump point.

  <()>^<()>

  Shelby read the report from Donner. Captain Twitch had done right to send the ship back with his logs as well as news of Félicité and even a clone of Felicite's cloned database. Her people were already working on that. No doubt Lieutenant Slatery was a happy camper.

  The question was, would Commodore Richards stop and pick the ship up? Should she send a ship to get it? If she did it'd almost have to be a warship. But was the engineering spaces and crew of a warship all the derelict needed to get back underway?

  She could see sending a destroyer like Demon Chaser on a run to get a prize crew to the ship. But would the destroyer's limited engineering compartment be enough to get the Mersey class cruiser functional again? Never mind stuffing her with irreplaceable personnel.

  What she couldn't do was send a cruiser. And it would bother the hell out of her if she did deploy them and then she found out Commodore Richards had stopped to pick Félicité up.

  No. She decided she'd stand pat for the moment. If the next courier reported that the commodore hadn't stopped, she could revisit the decision then.

  <()>^<()>

  A day after Donner's arrival in port the first sublight destroyer was launched from the yard. The Arboth class destroyer Edson had taken nearly three times as long as projected to get out of the yard. She lacked a hyperdrive and many of the components that would normally make her a starship, but only until they could find a way to make good on their absence. For the time being, she was trapped in the star system as a chained guard dog.

  Congratulations were sent from all ships and stations throughout the star system. Shelby considered having a ceremony but then decided it was more important for everyone to get back to work. They could do something about a formal commissioning ceremony when the ship got her hyperdrive in the future.

  <()>^<()>

  It seemed like events were picking up as the Sparkling Seas jump point defenders went to red alert at the arrival of a ship.

  The Tauren bulk freighter listed a bit but then corrected. An interrogation of her crew had the defenders scurrying to send over a medical team. News had spread through the star system that the ship was a plague ship.

  Shelby wasn't the only one unhappy about the news. She shivered. And what a way to cap a week she thought in annoyance. Apparently the ship had picked up the plagues after visiting the mostly water world. They'd been desperate to get the fuel so they could move on. Their risk had exposed their crew, and the survivors had paid dearly for it.

  They were lucky to be alive at all. It had been a long four-jump journey to get to her. They'd been turned away from Tau-Bin63A4.

  They could have dropped out of hyper and been marooned at any time or never dropped out at all she thought. Then she shook her head. That wasn't true. Nothing in hyper stayed there forever. Once the ship's hyperdrive failed, she would have eventually either translated out or hit a grav wall and disintegrated.

  The good news was that news of the Federation had spread. They'd confirmed that. They'd also confirmed that Janice had visited the planet, but Governor Magistrate Scrooge had been a bastard and had refused them medical care.

  She signed off on treating the crew and the usual maintenance check on the ship. No doubt as soon as the survivors recovered, they'd want to barter to get any required repairs to their ship.

  And, no doubt they'd want a milk run to get back in the saddle she thought, making a note to figure something out.

  <()>^<()>

  Governor Adrienne smiled as she met with Fred Muggs once more. He knew from her call that she was a bit nervous about the plague ship and that some of the ships were leaving. He couldn't help it though.

  But, a part of his duty was to be the diplomat and stroke them to calm their nerves. Not that he expected it to do much good.

  He was surprised when she didn't have him cool his heels in her outer office but invited him right in. “Sorry, I caught the next available flight.”

  “A call might have sufficed,” she said.

  True, but she'd given him an excuse to get out of his quarters. Phoebe's rants and drinking was wearing on his nerves. Not that he was going to admit that.

  “I thought you wouldn't appreciate the time delay,” he replied instead, smiling slightly. She offered him a drink, and he nodded, taking a coffee. “So, your message said this wasn't urgent but it was in regards to the navy's deployments as well as our recent arrival?” he prompted after a sip of coffee.

  The coffee wasn't that great. It was some sort of artificial mix someone had cooked up somehow. He took another sip and then set the cup down and proceeded to ignore it. He'd done his polite duty by sampling it.

  “Yes. I know you can't comment on the deployments,” she said with a flick of her hand.

  He cocked his head. “I wouldn't think the deployment of a corvette would bother you. Not with the recent commissioning.”

  “True,” she said with a smile of her own. “I was asked.” She shrugged. “She headed south, so I'm assuming to a neighboring world?”

  “Yes. She'll be a tripwire for us.”

  “Ah. Okay,” she said with a nod. “The plague ship though, why didn't those ships you sent out on the Western Mission stop them?”

  “Simple, they left before the mission arrived,” he replied with a shrug.

  She blinked and then nodded. “So that's how it is.”

  “Pretty much. You have to remember, old ships can be slow, very slow. And ships with a plague on board? Sapping their strength?” He shook his head in sympathy. “They were lucky to get here at all.”

  Sh
e nodded and even gave a little shiver. “But they will recover?”

  “Yes to some degree. Some of the worst afflicted are permanently scarred. The survivors are determined to go on though.”

  “Ah.”

  “I'd expect you'll hear them trying to recruit from your people when they've sufficiently recovered and gotten their ship fixed up by the navy,” he stated.

  She nodded and took a sip of her own drink. “I'll remember that,” she said dryly.

  “Is there anything else?”

  She snorted. “I hate having you come all the way across the star system for that,” she said with a shake of her head. He shrugged. “But, since you are here, I've got a list of questions about Federation membership. We're moving into the next phase, and I'm working on setting up the elections now.”

  He blinked and then smiled. That was good news, though not really news. The scuttlebutt had been around for some time.

  “If you could possibly help me with a few of the answers now? If there isn't any trouble?”

  He checked his implants and then shrugged. “My ferry doesn't leave for another half shift so I'm at your disposal. There isn't any trouble. What do you need to know?” He accessed his implants and brought up the FAQ list and search bar.

  “Well … the clarification on a few things like the small business tax code would help …”

  <()>^<()>

  Ayuma was surprised when he had been shipped back to work in the shipyard for a week. True, he had experience, but on other lines, not the construction line. He was also in college, but apparently, the brass was considering that an elective? When he'd brought it up to the chief he'd gotten “the look.” After that he'd kept his mouth shut and done what he was told.

  Which brought him to his current occupation, using a buck shape and beading die hammer to get a shape into a panel. The shop steward had said they were working on stamping dies for the dedicated part, but until they got the dies and another press, he was stuck making the parts.

  It was tough. He had to hang on to the piece while the die worked, and he had to be careful to follow the line exactly. He understood the importance though; by adding the dimples and lines into a metal, it stiffened the panel significantly.

  He just wished they'd hurry up and get the dies so someone else could do the damn job.

  <()>^<()>

  Lieutenant Fixer shook her large heart-shaped head as she inspected the design of the habitat. It was an old one, and it was a problem—a big problem for her. Well, for the people living in it she corrected herself. They were the ones with the real problem; she'd just been called in by the commodore to consult.

  She'd seen it when they'd visited and had warned the people when they'd rebuilt the facility. It was all documented and wonder of wonders they weren't disputing it. But they had gotten the governor to ask the commodore for her “advice” on resolving the leak and cracking problems. The occupants didn't want to move into a new habitat. Something about tradition and such, all silly to her. If something was that old and you wanted and could afford to make a new home, do so! But apparently there was some sentimentality involved.

  Which meant she had to come up with something for them to try to do on their own. Something budget friendly.

  Apparently the original designer, it had to have been a civilian, no true engineer would do something like this, had used what they'd had to create a habitat. It was supposed to be a shielded habitat with the base's water supply held in a water jacket around the exterior of the habitat.

  Good in theory, but there was a flaw, one they hadn't handled. The side of the habitat exposed to the sun tended to heat to 300C+. When that happened the water rapidly expanded into steam. On the shadow side, it tended to freeze instantly and also expand, usually bursting pipes if the system couldn't move the water fast enough. It was a good way to crack a habitat. It was why they were constantly losing water and having problems with the hull.

  What bugged her was that a water jacket had been used in some ancient habitats. It was old school and well-known for its flaws. A layer of lead and rock was best if you couldn't get away with modern tech. Even water radiators would work if they were designed to take into account the rapid cooling and heating of the fluid within.

  Lead was heavy though, so she could see why they'd opted for the cheaper alternative. Lead paint might help if it was put down in layers. But they needed to find a way to restructure the habitat. She could engineer it for them, but she wasn't going to build it. They were on their own there. It could also be expensive, almost as much as building from scratch.

  Not that they apparently cared. Nor did they care about “preserving the historical accuracy” of the original habitat design.

  Whatever. She banged out the plan and then shot it off and then returned her attention to more important matters.

  Her people were being pulled in so many directions. So many! The Dyson sphere project was just one among many that had been added to the growing list of things that they needed to oversee. And everything seemed to have a high priority.

  She'd more or less signed off on the yard dog's redesign of the shipyard. It was basically off the shelf, nothing really drastic in changes to the engineering. The same for the base expansions.

  The inflated asteroid was another project her people were handling. They'd just had their second success. Getting all the variables right had been moderately tricky. She freely admitted a healthy dose of Lady Luck's blessings might be involved.

  On top of that, she had been asked to go over the blueprints for the habitats for the ground. They had worked them out well in advance, modular buildings that could be fast erected to expand a spaceport or city by the grounders they visited. But, with the plague on everyone's mind, the commodore had asked her to redo the hospital complexes with that in mind.

  Which was a tall order. She'd made it clear she couldn't do everything. The project had fallen between the cracks, and Mahoney's convoy of ships had missed her redesign.

  She was still waiting on catching hell over that, if the commodore had even noticed. One thing she wasn't going to do, call attention to the oversight. Not when she had other things to do. What was it that the Terrans liked to say? Juggling too many balls?

  It was a nice time to be an engineer … if they'd let her slow down a bit to enjoy it!

  Chapter 18

  Tau-1929

  Governor Lor was amused when Shro complained about more ships passing through their star system.

  He instead sent a greeting to the Federation corvette. The ship sent back a greeting in reply and then a data download of news for his planet. They included the basic news but also the welcome news that his planet's application for trade had been accepted.

  “So, my people are happy,” he said to Governor Farnsworth in their biweekly talk. The Tauren couldn't help but rub it in to the stuffy Terran. “We got the contracts.”

  “Contracts? What contracts?”

  “My lumber mills are back up and running at full capacity. Actually, we're running smoother than ever since we got so much Fed tech in the loop. So much so that we're building up a reserve for export. I just received confirmation that some of the people in Tau-1252 want our products. That's on top of the other stuff we're exporting.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Yep, so we'll be exporting more flooring, wood, furniture, paper, some food containers, fruit, nuts, and berry preserves to them. That should go a long way to improve things around here.”

  “Again, good for you.”

  “It's also going to create a lot of jobs here,” the Tauren said, rubbing it in a little. “It means the economy is looking up.”

  “Careful, that's usually when the rug is pulled out from under you.”

  “I don't use rugs that much. They tend to get dusty and dirty, and you have to take them out and beat them. Like some old farts I might mention. I prefer good Delos hardwoods for my flooring.”

  “Cute.”

  “You did walk
into that one, Shro,” Los replied with a grin in his voice.

  “Funny. So, what else did you find out?”

  “What, now you want to hear?”

  “I'm just curious.”

  “Right,” the Tauren drawled. He skimmed the news report. “Well, you'll probably want to chalk it up to propaganda, but we've got reports from the couriers that have passed through the area.”

  “All those ship's we've been seeing?”

  “Yes. It seems like everywhere the Feds have been they've been spreading seeds of growth. Some are really taking root. With their tech I can see why. Populations are recovering and in some cases growing again. Economies are no longer collapsing.”

  “You're right.”

  “Eh?”

  “I said you are right. I think its propaganda.”

  The Tauren snorted. He had to admit, that Knox News report seemed a little too friendly. His world still had some half empty towns. He was pretty sure the problem wasn't limited to his. On every world touched by the plague, outlying areas that were without help sent some towns into a downward spiral. Death hit them hard, and with dwindling services, survivors moved to other places. Some towns were either abandoned or like a ghost town. Half abandoned as towns and cities shrank. Survivors couldn't keep up with the basics. They tended to struggle for the basic things in their day-to-day life. Many worlds were no doubt coming around to the Federation.

  So, the pirates might have sown death and destruction, but it was the Federation with their seeds of hope that might reap the greater profit. At least, he hoped so.

  “Well, good for them. What'ya want, a cookie?”

  Governor Lor laughed. “You are a piece of work, you old crotchety bastard; you know that?”

  “Yeah? So what?”

  “So, I think my world is going to join. We've officially put the matter on a planet-wide referendum,” the Tauren said smugly.

  “You do what you want. But, if I'm reading this right, you have to have consensus on all inhabited worlds or structures. That's not going to happen here.”