Shiver Me Timbers

by Chris Hechtl

  “Aye, that never did sit well with me,” Captain Gutt said with a nod. “Come then, we be entertained this fine eve with the screams of those accursed traitors while we eat dinner. I'd serve you soup made from their bones but it'd take too long to steep. Maybe later.”

  She smiled a feline smile. “May I ask for one of their livers? I'd love to snack on one.”

  Captain Gutt threw his head back as he came over to her and rested one of his long arms around her shoulders. “Be a lass after my own black heart! Sure! Sure thing!” he said, leading her to his wardroom.

  <()>^<()>

  Once the two ships were secure, Captain Gutt lifted the prohibition on chatter with the ships. He also allowed liberty for his people, though he kept a core crew just in case trouble came over the horizon. He could no longer feel secure in port, not anymore.

  As they entered the base, the raucous pirates chattered with the natives about the changes including the fall of Tortuga. Some brought along trophies like a severed hand to hang from the rafters above the entrances in the boat bays. The hand was normally changed every few months, usually when the rotting flesh grew too rank to have to smell. Sometimes it was a little too fresh and dripped blood on those who passed under it. The crew didn't care. They were welcomed by locals, some friends, some bitter rivals or enemies. But all wanted to buy them drinks to hear what had really happened in Tau-1252 and in Tortuga.

  The crew from Black Corsage replaced all of the hands with the severed hands of Horathians. Captain Gutt nailed up the severed hand of Captain Chen personally.

  <()>^<()>

  “Now we're getting somewhere,” Doctor Perez said as she entered the lab spaces in the hold of Booti'licious. The lab was basic but it would do. It was a sight better than what she'd had access to on the way to the ship.

  “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” Squint, the diminutive XO, demanded.

  “Aye. I've got the road map from the Feds,” she replied. According to Captain Gutt, Booty'licious was to remain away from the rest of the fleet in strict quarantine. They were even in the process of pulling her nonhuman crew.

  She turned to the cowering Horathian technicians. “And I'm sure if I have any problems these scallywags will be more than helpful in helping me figure it out,” she said.

  The elf turned to them. “If they know what's good for them, aye,” he growled.

  Two of the scientists flinched outright. They had thought they had been scared before but the menace in that tiny being left them ready to pass out in fear.

  “Let's get to work then, shall we?” Doctor Perez said briskly.

  “I'll leave you to it, Doctor. We'll be watchin' you,” the elf said, pointing meaningfully to a camera with a small stiletto knife.

  She turned to the camera and then back to the elf, but he was already walking away.

  “Look, Doc, we didn't know it was like this …,” a tech implored, but she raised a hand to stop him.

  “I don't care. Get to work or be the first one to walk the plank. Your choice.”

  <()>^<()>

  Captain Fisher wasn't happy about being unseated from her command. She had no choice though, and there was no way that she wanted to be anywhere near the damn place once Doctor Perez got going.

  Of course, she'd been on the ship before with the lab techs brewing their poisons. This was different though; those same techs were scared and being forced to try to make a cure. After hearing what that bitch of a doctor had done to Tortuga out of spite and spleen, she didn't want any part of that sort of exposure, which left her adrift and trying to figure out what to do next.

  <()>^<()>

  The news and Captain Gutt's arrival shook up in those in the command structure in the base. Some disappeared; others welcomed the change with open arms.

  Everyone seemed shaken by the losses. The loss of Tortuga, not to mention the plagues had some questioning what they were going to do. The arrival of the mythical Federation had others scared that a navy ship would show up at any time.

  Captain Gutt wasn't impressed with the command structure of the base. He cut through the dross to the commodore only to find that he'd died some time ago. Apparently, the commodore's lover had been running the place as his ghost, keeping up the illusion by avoiding any face-to-face meetings.

  He shook his head in admiration of the sheer chutzpah that the entire act had taken to run that sort of con. He was tempted to keep her but he knew better. She'd cozen up to him but then lovingly slip a knife in his back or ribs the first chance she got.

  Which was why he'd handed her over to the crew to have their fun before her remains were spaced.

  Her departure did open up a big hole in the command structure of the base. It also exposed him to something he hadn't expected, something in all of his years visiting the base he hadn't noticed up until then.

  The base had a tormented civilian grade A.I. in its computer core. The A.I. managed some of the systems on the base, kept the database virus free, and did the occasional coding job.

  His introduction in the command center wasn't without its charms. The command center was more of a voyeur center with video screens on all the walls and even the ceiling. Each screen was divided into panels showing various video feeds around the base.

  He wasn't surprised that there were few indicating the actual status of the base. Apparently, that was too much to ask for. The late Commodore Blasky and those who had come before him were idiots. They'd either been paranoid or too stupid to pour piss out of a boot with printed instructions on the heel.

  No wonder the dumb bastard had shuffled off. He just wished he'd been the one to do the shuffling.

  “You say this A.I. runs the base?”

  “The operations, aye. Some of them. We call in the various departments every few hours to get confirmation,” a cowering human tech said. He was missing an ear. His nose was crudely bandaged from when the captain had tried to pick it with the tip of his cutlass.

  “Jello say hello,” the man said, looking at a camera feed.

  “Hello he says, hello,” a disembodied voice said, then cackled. “Welcome! Welcome weary travelers to Dead Man's Hand! Should be Dead Man's hands plural not hand. And some aren't men at all!” the A.I. said, nattering on to itself. “Dead men tell no tales,” he said over and over.

  “Is it daft?” Captain Gutt asked.

  “Some parts are. But it does the job.”

  “Ar, well, if it can't, it be put out of my misery soon enough,” the captain growled.

  “What are your orders, sir?” the human asked.

  The captain's eyes gleamed. “Refuel my ship and resupply her. Then I want your techs to go over the other ships and then we'll get on looking into the rest of the mangy lot. The admiral be comin' soon enough, and you best be ready for his inspection. He won't be as … forgiving … of this mess as I've been,” the Neoorangutan captain said with a grin that practically matched the crazed nattering from the base A.I.

  “Ah, yes, sir. Right away, sir!”

  “That be more like it,” the Neoorangutan said, spinning the command chair a few times before he hopped into it and sat with his legs propped over one arm’s rest.

  Chapter 30

  Tau-1252

  Shelby studied the latest strategic simulations and the tactical sims. Even if they broke off and didn't press home an attack, Coglin's idea was sound. Concentrating her forces and her carriers in the capital had finally made her confident enough to go after Dead Man's Hand first over going to Virgin Holes. Once Ishmael was done with or running again, she could reorganize and hit Virgin Holes and Harlot's Dream in succession and take them out as well. Meanwhile, she and Abdul would be building new ships to scatter around for patrols and to catch any pirates that were out and about or who fled the capture of their base.

  She was still considering her options and field commanders carefully. The commander of the op force would almost have to be Rogers. He outranked just about everyone else and he had the most e
xperience. She also needed to have a cruiser with each hospital group. The near-death experience of Shrill Kill had taught her that much—not that their escape had saved them in the end. The tin can had bought it in the battle over a year prior.

  The need for cruisers limited her offensive punch.

  She checked the yard status board and then shook herself. She couldn't help but be a little impatient to see another cruiser launched.

  A knock at the door surprised her. She turned as the door opened.

  “I hope you don't mind but I decided to drop by,” Helen said, brandishing a bottle of wine and two glasses. “It's well past five,” she said.

  Shelby snorted. The two of them had hit it off quite well, on par with her and Cynthia. She was going to miss it when Helen had to leave; they'd built a comfortable rapport in the short time they'd been together. Each of them appreciated the other’s work ethic and dig-in attitude. “So, you want to ply me with wine?”

  “Nonsense. Wine has great oxidation effects,” Helen said as she pulled the stopper and placed the glasses on the desk. She sniffed the stopper and then poured each of them a draft before replacing it in the neck of the bottle.

  She picked up her glass as Shelby picked up hers. “To your health and to the health of the Federation,” Helen said.

  “Trust a doctor to word it that way,” Shelby murmured as she took a sip.

  “I could take it back,” Helen offered.

  “Don't you dare!” Shelby said and then smiled. “I rarely get to drink with friends these days. Most are out and about playing with their commands.”

  Helen nodded.

  “So, I've been going over the deployment proposals. And I'm making do with what I got since I'm down a cruiser,” Shelby said, eyeing Helen.

  Helen shrugged as she took a seat. “I thought it was appropriate given the circumstances,” she stated.

  Shelby nodded. “Oh, it was. But I'd like to be kept in the loop,” she said mildly.

  “Is that a roundabout pointed hint to communicate more when possible?” Helen asked. “And not to step on your toes?”

  Shelby snorted. “You did fine. And I actually like your revision to my plan. I may even claim it as something I was going to do anyway,” she said with a teasing smile as she raised her glass to her lips.

  It was Helen's turn to snort in amusement. “Well, the good thing is, I'm not going to be around to bug you for much longer,” Helen replied with a shrug.

  Shelby nodded. They were waiting on one last ship conversion before she launched the wave of ships. Well actually several ships. Several ships were in the repair side of the yard and one of the transports Helen had brought was being converted into another hospital ship.

  Fortunately, they had the minimum equipment and Abdul's yard dogs had their prior experience to get the job done in hopefully a timely manner.

  They did have one minor complication; another civilian ship had come in and requested the usual free checkup. Apparently, news of the Federation was starting to get around.

  “What are you going to do about the pirate patrols?” Helen asked.

  Shelby grimaced. She would ask that.

  “I … am going to have to limit them to tin cans in areas we have established a presence in for the time being and put frigates on pickets. But I only have so many of both of those to go around.”

  “I thought you had plenty of frigates and corvettes?” Helen asked.

  “I have a few, but I've been pulling the crews to man the new construction as well as the forts as they come online.”

  Helen blinked and then nodded. “Ah.” She hadn't thought of that.

  “To be honest anything smaller than a cruiser is a death trap. The pirates are fielding cruisers for the most part. Oh, they have a few privateers and destroyers in their fleet but not many,” Shelby admitted. “I wish I'd known that before I'd built the first frigates. I would have skipped right to tin cans or bigger. Sometimes I even regret building them! We didn't fully grasp the threat of the pirates until we arrived in the capital.

  Helen grimaced but then nodded once more.

  “Also, the smaller ships can't resupply themselves easily. They lack an internal boat bay to support a shuttle. They are reliant on another ship or a station for resupply.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” Shelby sighed. “And I have only so many cruisers to go around. I need some here to defend the base, and I need some to go with each Mercy Mission. And, I need some to form the core of an attack force to go after Ishmael.”

  “So, you are going after him?” Helen asked.

  Shelby nodded. “I'm planning to send a scout when Prometheus goes to Tortuga.” She snorted after a moment.

  “What?”

  “I was just remembering Troll has been promoted. Well, officially promoted,” Shelby explained. “I promoted a lot of people over the past two years. But I can't promote anyone to full captain or above at the moment.”

  “And why is … oh wait, a captain's board?”

  “Yes. And I have to run everything up the flag pole to BUPERS in Antigua. They have found the joys of red tape bureaucracy,” she grumbled.

  “So, cruisers for escort, for an attack force, to defend, and what else?”

  “Some will be in the yard for refit and repair. We've been pretty good about that now while the ships were in the capital. But, when they are deployed abroad I'm going to have to factor in replacement ships. So, when I send a ship out, I'm going to be down two until the other returns and is serviced.”

  “Ah.”

  “The good news is our people are accruing a lot of experience in day-to-day operations. And some are rocketing up the ranks. But we need more people.”

  Helen nodded. She swirled her drink for a moment. “Well, I played my part in picking up two ships for you.”

  Shelby nodded. “They will be much appreciated … when they ever show up.”

  Helen cocked her head and then shrugged.

  “Oh, I'm not complaining. And yes, they are old and will need a thorough refit before we put them in service. But I'm all for having the extra hulls. We'll find a way to put them to use.”

  “I know. I'm looking forward to Canterbury joining the hospital ship ranks,” Helen stated.

  Shelby smiled crookedly. “Fishing for a compliment? I admit, you did luck out there, finding a troop ship.”

  “Not really a troop ship as I've been told, a multipurpose ship. A JOAT as Captain Rogers explained it to me. It can do a bunch of missions like a cruiser can but not any particular one perfectly.”

  Shelby nodded. “I wonder if there are any troop ships in the sector. I doubt it, but they'd be the next best thing to finding an actual hospital ship. I've read the specs. They've got a full carrier deck and small hospital on board. That's something I believe you could really use.”

  “Which is why I mentioned Canterbury. She has most of the fixings of a troop ship, just smaller. Platoon size. According to my research, troop transports supplemented hospital ships before and during wars.”

  “And no doubt some were in the refugee fleets,” Shelby murmured.

  Helen took a sip of her drink and then frowned, staring into it. “Whatever happened to them?”

  “What?”

  “All those refugee fleets.”

  Shelby frowned thoughtfully. “Some scattered to the unknown regions. Some might have been sabotaged in hyper. Some might have run out of fuel or into an exploding star system. Some ended up settling on worlds in various places. ONI has found a few. One world tried to use their ships to terraform the planet out of an act of desperation. It only partially worked.”

  “Ouch.”

  “The truth is, we don't know where they all ended up. It's part of ONI's job to eventually figure that out. We might never know where they all got too. The registry has a lot of MIAs on it for a reason.”

  “Ah. Point. But maybe we should find out or at least try to.”

  “We will when the war is done. But
we'll proceed carefully. The last thing we want is to open up a ship infested with the Xenos.”

  “Definitely don't want that. Okay, I concede your point.”

  “Good.”

  <()>^<()>

  Abdul shook his head as he read the latest report. The newest ship in port was a civilian Tauren bulk freighter. The ship was surprisingly old but still serviceable. Apparently, the crew had been training their kin and new blood on how to run routine maintenance and diagnostics to maintain their home for centuries.

  But, they'd missed a few obvious points, like the net. Every ship had a separate network for the control of the ship. Each network was routed through different parts of the ship to make sure the crew could maintain control of the ship's systems at all times. It was commonly known as a back-to-port system.

  But, the freighter's alpha network had been compromised in a bad patch job. For nearly a century, the crew had thought that the Alpha net was in use but it in fact wasn't. His engineers had pointed that out to them, and the civilian engineers had been a bit put out over that fact. They had been spending years fixing it, but it was stuck in a loop sending garbage. It was all on account of bad chips and wiring.

  The Tauren chief engineer crumbled a chip into flakes, clearly disgusted. “Trash. This garbage was useless.”

  “Oh, I don't blame you,” Abdul said.

  “I don't. I blame the people who made this.”

  “They made it just fine. Something cooked the chip.”

  “Something?”

  “I don't know. I guess we'll never know since you just destroyed it,” Abdul replied with a shrug.

  The chief engineer flicked the pieces into a trash can.

  “You shouldn't blame yourself either. You didn't know. Chip diagnostics are hard enough in the field; doing it without the right gear and knowledge is nearly impossible. Trying to do it with what you know and have access to?” he shook his head. “You and your ancestors did just fine with the little you had to work with.”

  “Ah. Well, thanks.”

  They made one other stop before Abdul was to end his tour. They watched from the open hatch as a work crew worked on a teardown. An inspection of the space had found an old fire on the ship in several compartments. The areas had been partially repaired and even painted over. Someone had tried to make good on it but the structural scan had found hidden structural damage from the stressed and overheated metal.