Shiver Me Timbers

by Chris Hechtl

  But, that was months away. She did note that money in the form of letters of credit were coming through with more frequency through the ansible. Negotiations and applications had been transmitted at great expense to the big banks in Antigua and elsewhere. Some of the small banks in other systems had gotten involved too.

  By the end of the week, a civilian solar panel factory had been started. They had already pitched their products to the star system and to nearby star systems. They had orders lined up on Delos and Lebynthos. Wind turbines and electric motor production lines were also in the works.

  She was aware that Lebynthos had recently started a small plastic factory with funding from Antigua. They had a problem with the supply; the plastic they were using was organic based. They were working on that but it took time. Until then they had to get a supply from elsewhere, usually recycled material.

  The economy in the local area was improving steadily. Delos had picked up its export of wood products including paper. A second civilian freighter had taken on a regular run contract between the three ports, mirroring the Conestoga.

  The material was welcome to everyone as was the work and credits it was generating for the local and overall economies. She personally welcomed the fruit and berries that Delos exported. Most of them arrived frozen or as juice. The “fresh fruit” and berry juice was a hit with civilian and military personnel alike.

  According to the last news report she'd picked up from Governor Lor, Samos produced grain and beer, but they were not exporting much to Delos and none elsewhere. But, with all the changes to neighboring worlds, Governor Farnsworth's time in office was numbered. He'd survived one campaign to recall him by changing his tune grudgingly on a few issues. It was only a matter of time before he finally broke down and agreed to modernize.

  <()>^<()>

  Abdul was annoyed when the light cruiser Red Horn arrived in the star system. Lieutenant Slattery had her people go over the ship with his survey techs, but it only delayed the inevitable by a week. Once they were finished, he had managed to clear one of the repair slips to move the cruiser in for her lengthy refit.

  According to scuttlebutt the admiral was planning to promote one of the tin can captains to take on the ship once she was returned to service. He doubted it was that Naga captain, what's her name. She was already becoming a thorn in his side about refitting Nashville into a proper warship.

  <()>^<()>

  Governor Adrienne had taken a break from her public appearances after the week leading up to and the actual Election Day. But her time in the public eye returned as she attended a pair of ribbon cutting ceremonies.

  They were both for trade schools, one teaching mechanical engineering and machining, the other was for nursing. Both schools were welcome to her. She also approved of the administrator's plans to eventually expand the trade schools into fully accredited colleges at some point in the near future.

  What she really liked about the whole plan was the idea that students would come from all over the star system and eventually the entire sector for degrees or certification. The sector desperately needed medics. Those students who were taking Federation college courses and hands-on in the hospitals were overwhelmed. The medical personnel in the hospital and hospital ships had been scrambling to fill the void.

  She was surprised to find that the nursing school had been started with help from Commodore Richards. Her time in the star system had been brief but she appreciated it. She just wished she'd had the time to meet with the human.

  When she returned to her office later that evening, she ordered her small but growing staff to start looking for an educational director. “I want us to focus on the essentials. But we need to get this organized. And we need primary education too and educational standards,” she stated.

  “Student loan funding?” her chief of staff asked.

  “We're now a part of the Federation. Have someone look into that. We can look into local funding or Federal, whatever works.”

  “Understood, ma'am.”

  “I want candidates for the director by tomorrow. So get on that.”

  “I … can try, ma'am.”

  “Do more than that. You can add to the list but I want to start narrowing our choices so we can vet them and submit them to the star system congress for final approval.” He nodded.

  The star system congress was a new innovation they were getting used to. It was a single house with the local colonial or station mayor serving as the delegate. Eventually, she knew that would change when the mayors had too much of the day-to-day operations on their hands to attend lengthy meetings elsewhere.

  But, for now it was working. For how long was anyone's guess.

  “See if you can get some ideas from our friends. Have them pitch ideas and resumes,” she said, throwing him a bone. He nodded and made a further note and then got to work.

  <()>^<()>

  Shelby was surprised when she got an email that Special Forces Command wanted their own rock colony or station to train. Hard on the heels of getting the request from the senior lieutenant she got a missive from SFC on Antigua echoing the request.

  She called the SEAL lieutenant in to have a bit of a chat over it. “So, I get an email from you about wanting your own place, and then, low and behold I get another from your boss in Antigua. Coincidence?”

  “I may have mentioned it to command,” he stated, “in a report.”

  “Ah, I see. And no doubt my lack of an immediate response and scramble to attend to your needs,” she said, eying him severely.

  “I meant no disrespect, ma'am.” He realized he was on a bit of thin ice just from her tone of voice.

  “Why a base or station? They need people to man it, since I'm assuming you don't have the people to spare to do that little chore. You know what, why not go whole hog and give you your own ship? That way you are mobile?” she said scathingly, building up a real burn. “Sure, we can name it Infinity. What do you want, a cruiser? No, what about a battleship!” Her eyes glowered mockingly at him. “I'm sure we've got a few lying about!”

  The lieutenant's jaw worked. “Obviously, ma'am, this is a long-term goal.”

  Shelby nodded, returning her tone to normal. “I know, Lieutenant. And I get that you want your own space. I realize you need a place to train. Until we get other fires under control, you are just going to have to wait in line like the rest of us.”

  “Understood, ma'am.”

  “For the moment, make do with the Marines. If we have some space in an orbital fort or elsewhere, I'll let you know. Dismissed.”

  Act III

  Chapter 33

  Dead Man's Hand

  Captain Gutt wasn't happy about Delgado's progress with installing the hardware they'd taken as booty from Seydlitz. The Neochimp was terribly slow and inefficient, preferring to document everything thoroughly and test before plugging it in.

  That was good in a way; they were being very wary of viruses and technical glitches. But it was slowing them down badly. He needed his ship functional. Delgado admitted he was a bit overwhelmed with trying to oversee so much at once.

  There was a spot of good news; the magazines were fully restocked. Not only that but the missiles that were newly built and, according to Raz, even better than the ancient things his techs had spent ages rebuilding and nursing along. He was starting to look forward to his next encounter with a navy warship.

  An offhand remark from Captain Fisher reminded him of her technical prowess. He bartered with her to get the help his crew needed with the installation and swap outs. It took him the promise of her own ship in return for her services.

  It only took a single day before he realized he'd gotten the better of the deal. She had things back on track and moving forward by the end of the second shift. He was impressed with her skills; she was better than his chief engineer. She managed to wheedle out of him command of Seydlitz when he was drunk later that evening, though he'd held out for final approval from the admiral.

 
<()>^<()>

  While Captain Gutt dealt with his ship and the command structure on the base, some in the Tortuga convoy took shuttles over and began to settle in. The base came alive as personnel moved in and tried to find a place to live. Rock hammers were broken out and tunnels were dug out for new habitats. Power, lights, air, and water lines were strung to support the people living there.

  The captain barely paid any attention to any of that. He did make it clear he didn't suffer fools lightly. He also ordered the farms to be doubled in size. He knew that they'd need more food when the other convoys arrived.

  <()>^<()>

  Doctor Perez had made incredible progress with the vaccines. She was up to the point of experimenting on rats and rabbits from the farms on the station. The initial tests were a baseline; she'd learned that from the documentation. She had a control, an animal that was an infected control, and several animals that had various versions of the vaccines. Teaching the techs that were “volunteered” to help her other than the wretched fools from Horath was hit or miss. She'd damn well wanted to turn one tech into her first live subject when she'd found out he'd been faking the ability to read.

  Fortunately for him he was human. She'd passed once her temper had cooled. In another day she would begin test vaccinations on the luckless layabouts on the station. From there they'd begin making the vaccines using chicken and lizard eggs.

  <()>^<()>

  Captain Gutt divided his time from overseeing Squint's work on refitting and training to the base to organizing defenses in the star system. That included bullying a picket at each jump point. He initially got some flak from a few of the ships captains. When one got out of hand, he snarled at them and made it clear if they kept it up he'd meet them in the dome. Captain Silver had backed down of course.

  But when he'd taken his ship to the jump point instead of standing on station, the bastard had sent an image of a dick and middle finger and then had jumped out. That had pissed the Neoape off for days. He'd snarled impotently, taking his ire out on anyone around him until he'd cooled off. He did make a point of planning to find a way to avenge himself on Captain Silver if they ever met again though.

  <()>^<()>

  Admiral Ishmael sighed in quiet relief as Black Death led her charges across the final hyper wall and into real space once more. They hadn't lost a single ship; Lady Luck's blessings had been with him. He was also grateful to see a picket ship near the jump point when their sensors cleared the massive hyper wake.

  “IFF transmitted. IFF received. We're welcome,” Captain Baker stated.

  “Very well. As soon as the sheep are sorted out, we'll make port and get back in business,” the admiral growled.

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Call Gutt and Commodore Blasky and get Captain Dab on the horn. No doubt she's eager to get busy.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  <()>^<()>

  Captain Gutt felt intense relief when the admiral called in. That relief was tempered when the admiral asked for SITREPs and logs on everything in the star system. The admiral was well organized; he appreciated that. Though he did expect some flack over one of his decisions.

  He was amused when the admiral sent a vid message about Commodore Blasky. He sent a video explaining what had happened from his perspective. They exchanged video chats about the subject for several days as the convoy sailed through the star system.

  They met up for a working lunch of rabbit before the evening meeting and dinner with the lords in port. “So, I noted your report on Seydlitz.”

  “Aye?” the captain asked, long index finger stroking the handle on his beer stein.

  “I also noted none of them are alive in your report. I would have liked a bit more information,” the admiral drawled.

  The ape studied his fingernails, then shrugged. “Oops?” he said with a lazy challenging grin.

  The admiral shook his head but couldn't help but smile back in amusement. “Just couldn't help yourself, could you?”

  “Is it my fault humans are so delicate? Their arms just tear right off!”

  “Right,” the Neolion growled. “So, what's this about Seydlitz being stripped?”

  “Ar, take what you can, give nothin' back,” Captain Gutt growled, eyes flickering. He'd finally relented and allowed Captain Fisher to begin to install his old hardware in Seydlitz. She'd only started a few days ago. Of course he refused to sign off on the transfer until he was sure each piece of equipment was integrated properly and his people were trained on its operation. She wasn't getting any of the weapons he'd taken either.

  “Stripped her?”

  “Down to the deck heads. Nary a scrap in her magazines, gun mounts, or other places. One reactor is functional and that be about it,” the ape replied with an indifferent shrug.

  “And if I say I need the ship?”

  “Then you best get some support to Cap'n Fisher. She's quite good at fixin' things,” Captain Gutt replied with a lazy grin.

  “Is she now? Well then, I'll have to check her out. But if she's got you as a reference, I guess she's halfway to keeping that captain's chair?”

  The Neoorangutan smirked. “I would love a ring side seat to any who be challengin' her to the right. She may be small but she's doughty and vicious. My kind of lady,” he said with a chuckle. The admiral joined in.

  <()>^<()>

  Dinner parties with a large number of ship captains were rare. Captain Gutt was amused to hold the first virtually. He was on hand with the admiral and a few others like Captain Fisher.

  Admiral Ishmael was grateful he didn't need to tell the natives of the star system what had happened all over again. He hadn't expected rants about abandoning Tortuga from those who had been on the convoy though. “We traded Tortuga for this?!? This dump?”

  That sparked a brief amount of cussing and name calling from the various lords. Fortunately for him they were virtual so all he had to do was hit mute for a few seconds until they quieted down.

  “We had to do what we had to do. Tortuga was gone. The plagues were released, and the base had to be destroyed. T'was a cursed star system. I had no intention of keeping our people in that accursed system any longer than I had to.”

  “Aye, and so you abandoned it for this? What if the plagues are in the ships you brought?”

  The Neolion leveled his eye on the pirate lord. “Do have a care on how you speak to me,” he said in a soft silken voice that didn't fool anyone.

  “I meant no disrespect, sir,” the Neowolf captain ground out.

  The neolion studied him for a long time until the lord dropped his eyes submissively.

  “Better. As to your question, any ship that had been infected would have fallen out of hyperspace and would have died, thus isolating the infection from the rest of the fleet.”

  Heads nodded at the wisdom over that.

  The old guard and a few rational individuals had realized that many of their friends and family who were shipped to Horath were most likely dead. That turned the conversation to expressing that bitterness. “Hoist a few in their honor,” the admiral said, raising a glass and then guzzling it down.

  <()>^<()>

  The following morning the admiral noted that his people were replacing the Horathian flags, markers, and IFF with traditional pirate ones. Racial slurs were posted or tagged on some walls, though Captain Baker immediately had them clean them off the bulkheads in the ship.

  Humans were targeted by drunken groups. They tended to go out in pairs after several ugly spacings. That just escalated the violence as the mobs began to form up. The violence was curtailed when the admiral ordered the SPs to intervene.

  The admiral saw the removal of the ancient Horathian markers and replacement with pirate ones as both a dividing and unifying effort. Dividing in that they no longer had a common chain of command to report to. But unifying in that they were unifying against a common enemy. But it also meant they were no longer using Horath and her cause to bind them together. They were fallin
g back to the code.

  <()>^<()>

  A bloodhound named Copper rubbed at his rheumy eyes and then sneezed. He snuffled a bit, and then blew his nose. He didn't even see the pulser shot that blew his head apart.

  “Damn it, he's got allergies!” the bartender protested.

  “Not anymore,” a newcomer said with a shake of his head. “That's one way to clear your sinuses!” he said.

  “Aye, but you can clean the mess up!” the bartender growled, leveling a shotgun on the trigger-happy yahoo.

  “Okay, fine, where do you keep the mop?”

  <()>^<()>

  When Captain Fisher pressed Captain Gutt, he arranged for her to meet with the admiral. The captain considered giving her command of a prize ship in prize row but realized it would be a problem. Sure, Captain Dab was supposed to take on the repairs to Seydlitz, but she had another week or more of setting up her yard and people before she'd be ready to take anything on.

  And then there was the other candidates. Quite frankly, there weren't any that were more qualified than Fisher was. He grimaced. He considered promoting an XO but decided against it.

  None of the lords wanted the ship because of the reputation of it and because word had gotten around that Gutt had stripped it. It was a major investment to get the ship back into fighting trim. It was best to let someone else spend the credits and time and then swoop in and take the prize later.

  Reluctantly, he considered letting her keep the crippled and stripped cruiser at least until it was out of Dab's hands.

  But, when he met with Fisher his tune changed. He had to admit he liked the little cat. She knew her stuff in engineering, that was clear from the reports from Captain Dab and Captain Gutt. And he admired a woman who insisted on getting her due.

  “All right, you'll get your shot. I be not standin' for you with the other lords. Mind your P's and Q's in their presence until your ship be blooded or face the dome. Be likes a long time before you get your spurs,” he said.