Shiver Me Timbers

by Chris Hechtl

  She was considering visiting the planet again when she heard that her pilots were trying to arrange some sort of impromptu air show. She gave them credit for considering it, but an air show wasn't something you just threw together on a whim and a wing.

  Besides, none of them had training in aerobatic maneuvers. She couldn't and wouldn't trust them close to the deck and the crowds that would surely gather to see them showboat. She nixed the plan but did authorize them to do some flybys, some guest check flights, and even land and show off their craft to people at various air strips around the planet. If they managed to inspire some people, great. If they asked to sign up with a military branch, all the better.

  When she did get a chance to visit the planet, she stepped off the shuttle and spotted a curious area where homes had been built but abandoned. She'd wondered why they weren't using it until a local explained that the land had been a peat bog. “See, the builder sank pylons down to the bedrock. But, they didn't do it for the roads. Over time the roads sank. Peat is notorious to build on; most people avoid it.”

  She nodded as she looked at the image of the scene from the air and then a side view where the height discrepancy could be clearly seen. It was a good meter height gap between the front stoop and the road. “Yeah, that'd suck.”

  “Exactly. And the people who moved in had no clue. They lost big.”

  She winced. “Ouch.”

  “We could use the homes. They are all modern buildings, but why bother? All the utilities are under the road and have buckled or been crushed. Most were lost when the pirates tore out the pumps and electrical station anyway,” the guy said bitterly.

  “Ah.”

  “So, live and learn and build somewhere else. Really, I think they left this up not so much for a lack of funds to fix it or tear it down but as an example on what not to do.”

  “Yeah, there is that I suppose.”

  “But you are one of the navy people who said they can change that?”

  “Well, not me personally. I'm hoping that in time your people will want to become a part of the Federation. We're giving your government some supplies and tech to help you out. But if your people vote to join, I could see some help coming your way.”

  “Oh?”

  “We've got an Army Corps of Engineers in the sector. I'm sure your government would love for them to sort some thorny problems out. Like that peat bog or even a few other places,” she said with a smile.

  “You don't say?” he drawled. “Well, lil' lady, you are full of surprises. “Are all you military types like that?”

  She laughed. “Believe it or not I wasn't always in the military. I was the chief helmsman of a yacht a long time ago. But, life has a way of changing when you least expect it,” she said as he tucked his arm into hers and led her to a bar nearby.

  <()>^<()>

  Tau-G7X72

  Captain Twitch was grateful for all the respite as the convoy moved through the two dead star systems to their next stop. The first mission had done well, but his was shifting south into uncharted territory. He had the occasional sleepless night wondering just what they were getting themselves into.

  An emergency transmission put his thoughts of moving on briefly on hold. One of their escorts headed to check it out warily while the rest of the convoy continued on to the distant jump point.

  Several days later Good Hope got word that the ship was a yacht turned privateer.

  “It's ugly over here. We've got one survivor. The plague drove the rest of them mad. How she survived is anyone's guess. A dose of luck but she's damn near mad. And there is a complication.”

  The captain buzzed. He could very easily figure it out.

  “She's a privateer all right, and she came from their base Harlot's Dream, which is one jump away. They have the plague there. What do we do?”

  “Is the ship salvageable?” the T'clock asked.

  He got a response back six hours later. “Yes. My engineer has gone over it. And to anticipate your next question, yes, we've stabilized the patient and stuck her in a stasis tube. And we have a prize crew on the ship, and as soon as they are confident they can handle the ship, we'll send her back to the capital. We'll catch up to you.”

  The T'clock bobbed his antenna and signaled relief.

  <()>^<()>

  Lebynthos

  Runner arrived in Lebynthos and flashed her IFF to the picket light cruiser. Before she even got a ping back, the little ship had shaped a course for the distant jump point. They had some data on the star system, and the skipper had been tempted to perform a skip but had decided against it.

  It was nice to talk to someone else though for a change, even if it was only for a week while their ship crossed the star system and moved on.

  Chapter 43

  Dead Man's Hand

  Admiral Ishmael sent Bowsprite back to Virgin Holes with news and dispatches. Captain Garnet seemed happy enough to take on the job … for the right price.

  That lowered his number of warships to forty. Forty warships were all he had in Dead Man's Hand. Black Death, Black Corsage, Saladin and five other heavy cruisers, two medium cruisers, thirteen light cruisers, two extended range destroyers, and fifteen privateers.

  He grimaced and then looked at the plot again. Plus he had all of the freighters and ships they had used in the convoys, plus another dozen in prize row.

  Two more privateers were in prize row; Captain Dab had ordered them to be sacrificed to supply her with parts to keep the other ships going.

  He could have used the ships, but they were useless in a stand-up fight. He shook his head. Already many of the lords were starting to agitate that they go back to the old ways and hunting. He wasn't certain he could hang onto them for much longer.

  He was fairly certain Gutt was sticking around because the wily captain was still having issues with his ship's integration. Gutt might make noises about wanting revenge, but the Neocat wasn't so sure. Gutt was a pirate through and through; he'd most likely stick to the code when they encountered another navy ship.

  It galled him though to run away. To have to run to stay alive. For too long they had been at the top of the food chain. They were the predators! He snarled softly to himself.

  <()>^<()>

  Captain Dab set up a second slip for the final fitting and drawing-out phase of a ship's repair. The truss segment framework formed a long tubular octagon shape that was just enough of a support structure to hang lights, targets, and sensors. This way she could put a ship into the dock and do the final fitting out, sensor, and node calibration, along with other things instead of tying up her one slip.

  It helped her almost immediately. She even went so far as to drag a small freighter over and tack it to one side of the fitting slip to act as a habitat for the crew. Moving the fitting-out techs over to that habitat once it was ready gave her a bit more elbow room in the barracks as well.

  <()>^<()>

  The fighter test was going … poorly in Kix's estimation. He grimaced when three of the fighters had to return to their ships with problems before the exercise had even begun. A fourth lost her engines and an SAR shuttle had been sent out to recover them.

  Thirty-five. That's all they had, thirty-five fighters of various types. That was all that they could scrounge up. Tau was never well-known for fighters; Taurens just weren't into them. Most understood it was due to the claustrophobic nature of the cockpits and long hours away from others.

  The good news was that they weren't intending for the fighters to fight offensively, purely defensively. They would have to blunt or fend off any gunship or bomber attack. After reviewing the files from the engagement in Tau-1252, he knew that the pilots knew that they were going to get slaughtered if they tried to mix it up with the enemy fighters.

  Pirates didn't fight to get killed; they fought for profit. Most of the pilots who were in the fighters were a little crazy to begin with. They usually flew shuttles. The fighters were their personal craft that they used to strafe hel
pless lubbers in order to encourage them to turn over whatever booty they were hiding.

  He shook his head. He had a sneaking suspicion many of the fighters would have “problems” when it came to face true combat. He scratched his head and then sighed. They needed to figure out some sort of fix but he was damned if he could think of what to do.

  <()>^<()>

  Captain Joe Hammer saw the farce of a fighter shootout and shook his head in despair. They had no clue what they were doing! What did the admiral expect? They were pirates, not navy! They had no formal training, they never had! They were used to shooting at helpless prey, not having someone shoot back at them! That was a good way of getting killed!

  The scuttlebutt going around was that the admiral was keeping everyone in place because he wanted to go on the offense again once Black Death was finished with her latest rebuild. He doubted it. Again, they had no training as a fleet.

  Was it Horath? The admiral was from Horath like a few of the other old guard. His authority had been vested in that. But now, now Horath had betrayed them. Was he even technically still an admiral? Kix commanded Black Death though, unless that was to change? He shook his head in vexation. He really didn't care about that.

  Was the admiral perhaps worried that if they left they'd scatter and the base would fall? It was quite possible. But there was no profit in remaining for much longer. They did not produce enough food to supply the number of ships currently in port. And Doctor Perez was nearly done her vaccination program.

  He grimaced over that. So much for the admiral's promise that his ship would be first since they'd provided the cure. He'd gotten screwed on that deal.

  Something needed to be done. Something …soon.

  <()>^<()>

  Captain Gutt swung through part of his ship, hanging from the pipes and structure in the ceiling of the gangway. He was careful to make sure his long fingers didn't touch anything hot or dangerous of course.

  Captain Dab's help had gotten a majority of the bugs out of his ship's systems. They still had a few of her yard gnolls on board working on the ship. And Squint was rather busy overseeing them and the training he'd ordered.

  With the vaccinations nearly wrapped up, he'd authorized small liberty parties on the base. His people had done him proud tearing it up while in port. He'd gotten no less than three complaints. They'd squared away their bills too, though with so many ships in port alcohol and the services of some of the lads and ladies were getting pricey indeed.

  As soon as the yard gnolls finished up with his sensors, he planned to go out hunting again. His accounts were getting low. With his ship refitted and with fully-stocked magazines, he was actually looking forward to his next navy encounter.

  That thought made him grin a bit as he swung around a corner and right over Squint's head. “Try to keep up!” the captain said as he kept moving. “Make a hole!” He swung over to the ladder. “Down ladder!” he snarled, gripping the safety rails and then sliding down them like a kid.

  <()>^<()>

  Doctor Perez smiled as she finished the last finishing touches on the last vaccination program. She'd outdone herself; she'd achieved a 10 percent mortality ratio, which was better than she'd hoped. Most of that had been in the very old and very young.

  She was a bit concerned about her future though. Were they going to abandon Booti'licious? Was she going to go back to being a regular doctor? What about compensation? She needed to find out about that.

  <()>^<()>

  Captain Dab arranged to be on board Black Death for a little quality time that the admiral had promised. She tried to surprise and corner her “husband,” but he managed to slip away when a work party fumbled a load behind them. “Damn! Where did he go?” she snarled, making some of the techs and crew around her laugh. “It's not funny!” she snarled, making them laugh louder until she started to swat at them with her fists and then with her neural lash. Fortunately for them she kept the device off.

  She lifted her muzzle and sniffed the air and then decided to try to hunt him down. He was going to pay for making her wait though.

  <()>^<()>

  Dolon's eyes were wide in fright. He was a damn wolf not a puppy but damn it, he had no intention of being that bitch's bitch again. And he couldn't just put her out of his misery; the admiral had forbid anyone killing her.

  That meant he had to find a way to get off the damn ship until she lost interest and had to go back to work.

  <()>^<()>

  Kix shook his head as he heard that the XO had left the ship to go to the base to “arrange for more supplies.” He'd already heard the scuttlebutt of the XO's encounter with his “wife.” He was of two minds about it. Both were invaluable team players. And Wilda's focus on Dolon protected those who couldn't handle her rather rough lovemaking. In fact, the XO was one of the few people he knew of who had managed to survive a night without spending weeks in the sickbay afterward. He'd walked a little funny, and he'd had trouble sitting for several days, and she'd torn great chunks of fur out of him, but he'd survived more or less intact.

  “Has my wayward no-account husband been by this way?” Captain Dab demanded from the open hatch.

  He turned to her and studied her mildly. She growled, eyes flickering in impatience. He shrugged. “Nope, haven't seen him. We did just dispatch a shuttle to the base though. You might want to check …,” he stopped himself; she had already whirled and departed.

  “I'm not sure who I'm rooting for, Wilda or Dolon,” a familiar voice rumbled with a soft laugh in it. The Neochimp captain turned to the admiral. “If she doesn't catch him, she'll be pouty, and we won't get much work out of her. And she'll take her ire out on her crew. But, if she does catch him, we might lose our XO.”

  “Eventually she is going to catch him,” the captain replied with a nod.

  “Better start training a replacement then,” the admiral sighed. “Ten credits though that he won't get caught this time.”

  Kix snorted. The way Wilda was so determined he wasn't so sure. But he knew better than to take the admiral's money. “One way or another he's going to earn his whoopin. But he might surprise her and turn the tables.”

  “That might be fun to see,” the admiral chuffed. He patted Kix on the shoulder and then left.

  <()>^<()>

  Virgin Holes

  The arrival of the light cruiser carrying word of the betrayal of Horath, the Tortuga evacuation, and the battle of Tau-1252 was mostly ignored by the locals living in the pirate base. When the ship made port and her crew began to spread the news, it was at first scoffed at. That ended when the transmissions and dispatches from the admiral were authenticated.

  “So, what the hell are we supposed to do?” a captain demanded. He'd gotten into port after the admiral had taken his force out after the Fed convoy. “He got his ass kicked, and he's running! Do we run or stay?”

  “Do you really want to stick around and wait for the Feds to show up here?” another captain asked scornfully. “It's been nice knowing you, but I'm sticking to the code. It's every ship for themselves. Time to go to greener pastures.”

  “Right,” a few of the other captains growled with nods of support.

  “Where do we go? Without a base …?” Captain Shredder of Pyrite asked. He didn't like the idea of moving on to unknown hunting grounds. His privateer might not make the long haul.

  “The admiral went north to Dead Man's Hand, right? He abandoned us! The plagues are to the south. The Feds are in the south. I say we head north too and get the hell away from them!”

  The compartment thundered with yars and growls of agreement.

  <()>^<()>

  Cenarius

  Captain Hochi was in his office waiting on the supplies to come up when he got word of a ship arrival. “You're sure?”

  “Aye, sir. Tin can at the X3301 jump point.”

  “A tin can,” the captain growled, rubbing his jaw. They'd had a hard time making the run through the dead systems to get to Cenarius. “Recall
the landing parties. Get them moving now.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  <()>^<()>

  Captain Fabulous Fanny felt a thrill of adrenaline as she heard about the cruiser in orbit of the planet. “Are you saying it's one of theirs?” she demanded.

  “No, ma'am. We don't know what it is; it's too far away. What we do know is that she didn't come in ahead of us. There is no ion trail.” The CIC rating turned to look at her helplessly.

  “Damn it,” she snarled, unsure of what to do. She didn't have enough fuel to return the way she'd come, and there was no way she was going to run for the Virgin Hole's jump point with a cruiser on her ass.

  She needed the supplies damn it; she needed something to bring back to port. “Comm, flash our IFF,” she said, coming to a decision.

  <()>^<()>

  Captain Hochi was on the bridge overseeing the last of his shuttles return from the surface when they got the unexpected ping.

  “It's a trick!” the XO said.

  “No, it is Choker,” CIC stated.

  “And you are telling me the enemy can't clone our IFF?” the XO demanded.

  “I'm just reporting what we're seeing,” the rating replied.

  “Comm, ping our IFF. And send a message …,” the captain paused in thought and then smirked. “Tell them it's nice to see fat ass Annie,” he said. Send my signature.

  “Annie?” the XO asked, brows knit in confusion.

  “Just a little test,” the captain stated. “Make sure we're still getting squared away, just in case.

  <()>^<()>

  Fanny listened to the reply two hours later. She'd felt relief at hearing Brigadoon's IFF, but that Annie crack pissed her off. It made her stop and think though, was an enemy ship spoofing the IFF? Had they gotten her name wrong? Or had Hochi done it deliberately?

  “Comm, open a channel,” she ordered, settling herself in her chair. “Hochi, if that really is you, I'm going to shove one of my high heels up your tight fat ass and rotate it for that fat ass Annie crack,” she growled.