by Eric Thomson
Then, a sudden thought occurred to him. The fourth officer said they weren't on the regular star lanes. Merchants usually stuck to the marked routes because they're patrolled and because they're patrolled, the scum stays away. That might be why he couldn't find the other ships yet. They weren't near enough. Maybe this beauty here had been the first to spot them. Were they sweeping Shokoten's route by accident, or did they know we were coming? If they knew, what did they want, apart from a good ship? The contraband cargo?
“Three more contacts emerging aft. Two corvette-sized, one smaller. Range four hundred thousand kilometers. We're being boxed in.”
“Damn.” Strachan slammed his fist against his chair's side. “What are our chances, Zack?”
“Depends on what they want.”
“What do you mean?”
“If they want our hull, they’ll be real careful to capture us without damaging the ship. If they want our bodies, they’ll try to shoot off our engines. If they want our cargo, it could be either way, depending on whether they're in a hurry and whether they have the space in their own holds. I'd rather they want the ship. It gives us more time and chances to escape.”
“Incoming message from the ship ahead, sir,” the signalman's mate sounded scared.
“What?” Zack and Strachan asked in unison, turning to look at the young woman.
“Put it through,” the captain said.
“Most fucking unusual, sir,” Zack slowly shook his head, puzzled.
The cruel face of a Shrehari of the Imperial race appeared on the main view screen. His swarthy, ridged forehead gleamed in the low, smoky light of his own bridge. Sharp, snaggled teeth appeared behind a cruel smile. Scars covered one side of his face, vanishing beneath his long, black hair. His yellow, slanted eyes gleamed with malice as he looked at Shokoten's bridge crew.
“Surrender or die, humans.” The Anglic words sounded harsh, distorted by the alien's guttural voice.
Decker glanced at Strachan, willing him to reply, to say something insulting and dismissive, to show no weakness in front of such a dangerous enemy. To keep him talking until they were within firing range. Then he froze.
The bastard was bluffing. He wanted something on this ship, and he didn't want to risk damaging it by shooting. Otherwise, he’d have fired a few shots to disable Shokoten.
Zack looked over at Darhad and their eyes met. She nodded minutely as if she had read the gunner's thoughts and agreed. Her right hand danced over her console.
“Sound and vid off,” she said, her tone neutral and controlled. “I think he’s bluffing, Captain.”
“I agree,” Decker said.
“Why?” Strachan licked his lips nervously.
“You'd know better than me, sir,” Zack replied. “Fact is, pirates never give you a chance to react. They shoot first because they know no one in his right mind will just give up, especially not with a well-armed ship. Out here, Shrehari aren't regular pirates most of the time, anyway. A lot of them work for Imperial Intelligence.”
“What are our options?” The captain's confident tone sounded false.
“Take a navigation fix and jump. Turn this into a chase. If they're serious about getting Shokoten unharmed, we can head back for the patrolled star lanes and pray there's help to be found.”
“Do we have one yet, Mister Gareth?”
“No, sir. Still working on it.”
“Humans, you have thirty of your seconds to drop shields and prepare to be boarded. If you cooperate, we will not harm you.” The Shrehari captain's voice boomed from of the loudspeakers.
“Or we can surrender and hope he's telling the truth,” Zack concluded, his shrug speaking more than words. He glanced at his scanners again. The pirates were staying out of range. They probably knew what sort of weapons Shokoten carried. Decker grimaced. Not a good thing at all.
An idea grew in the back of his mind, something the captain of Musashi had tried when they'd been jumped by a trio of marauders.
“Captain, I have a solution that may or may not work. But it's better than just sitting here, or believing that charming asshole out there would actually let us live after we surrender.”
Darhad reacted first. “Speak, Gunner.”
“On my mark, accelerate towards the lead pirate and prepare for a micro jump. He'll be startled enough that we ought to get in a good lick before vanishing. We won't know where we'll emerge, but neither will he. With any luck, by the time he finds us again, we'll have a fix.”
“Unplotted jumps are highly dangerous,” Strachan replied, a hint of fear showing in his voice. “We can end in limbo.”
Zack grinned at the captain.
“Limbo's a tale to scare young navigators in training, sir. The ships who vanished went to an alternate dimension where their crews are living a life of leisure. Is it a go, sir, or do I drop the shields?”
“It’s a go. Helm, set course at maximum sublight for the ship dead ahead and place hyperdrive online. Engage at my mark, jump at the gunner's mark.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Length of jump?” Gareth sounded terrified.
“Make it ten light minutes.”
“Ready.”
“Engage.”
With a burst of power that surprised even her crew, Shokoten accelerated towards the lead ship. Decker brought all guns and launchers to bear, finger hovering over the firing button, waiting to come within can't-miss range.
“Firing now!” Decker released a barrage of plasma and missiles.
“Jump!”
Before he even had a chance to check his salvo's effectiveness, nausea gripped him and broke his concentration. No sooner had it gone that the emergence nausea set in and Shokoten winked back into normal space millions of kilometers away.
“Nav, I need a fix. Gunner, any signs of pursuit?”
“Not so far, sir. They're beyond our range. I figure it'll take 'em a few minutes to react, more if I manage a clean hit on the lead ship. I suggest we have another micro jump laid in, so that when they find us, we can vamoose right away. They won't give us another chance to pull this stunt.”
“Nav, you heard the gunner. Give us a fifteen light minute jump this time.”
The minutes passed with maddening slowness. Apart from Gareth, who was frantically trying to fix their position and Decker, who was scanning space for emergence signs, the others were reduced to waiting with mounting anxiety.
“Four traces seven hundred thousand kilometers off our port side. I can't tell for sure, but one of the ships is leaking radiation. I must have smacked him hard with that salvo.”
“How long before they're in range?” Strachan asked.
“Three, four minutes, sir. Enough to last a lifetime.”
“A very short lifetime. Nav, if you have a fix, now’s the moment to do it.”
“I’m trying, sir.” Gareth's voice now had a hint of hysteria.
“Incoming!” Decker grabbed his chair's armrests and braced himself. “For what we're about to receive...”
The ship shook as a pair of missiles exploded against the shields.
“I thought they weren't supposed to be in range yet, Decker,” Strachan shouted over the groaning of the stressed hull as energy fields fought against each other, bathing the ship in a bright glow.
“The bastards have themselves high-speed, long-range shit, sir. Commonwealth military grade, not Imperial. Someone's been selling 'em stuff they shouldn't have.”
Strachan looked at his gunner in astonishment, stung by the accusation underlying his words.
“No damage,” Decker continued. “Shields holding at half-power. Another one like that and we lose number five. If you can turn the ship ninety degrees on its central axis, we'll give 'em an undamaged shield for the next salvo.”
“Do it, helm.” Darhad barked out. “Nav, prepare for micro jump.”
“Just another minute, sir, and I'll have a fix,” Gareth replied with a note of desperation in his tone. Zack couldn't tell if he was more scared of jumping blind again or of
the pirates.
Another hit shook the ship and Zack swore as the feedback from the overloaded shields ran through the ship's electronics, shorting out systems all over the ship.
“Firing a brace of missiles.” Then, “starboard launcher's out, so's the subspace commo array.”
“Nav, prepare to jump.”
“Just a few moments more, sir. Entering course for the main star lanes.”
Shokoten shivered again, and again, under the relentless battering of the pirate guns. A part of Decker's mind noted the care with which each burst was fired as if they were trying to estimate the exact moment her shields would collapse and leave her open to boarding.
He shot back, but the freighter's guns didn't make enough of an impression on their shields. Shokoten however, couldn't take much more of the Shrehari's pounding.
“Ready, sir,” Gareth shouted out, sounding strangled.
“Helm, engage.”
A plasma bolt glanced off the front shield, its glow brightening the bridge even through the view screen’s filters, as the ship turned to aim at the new jump point. Then, the familiar nausea gripped them again, and they were off into hyperspace, safe for the moment.
Strachan slumped back into his chair.
“Secure from battle stations.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Zack interjected, turning to face his captain, “they'll pursue. I wouldn't be surprised at another torpedo attack to knock us back into normal space. The buggers want something on this ship and they aren't about to let up.”
After a moment, Strachan nodded.
“Belay my last order. Damage reports from all departments.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Sir, starboard launcher's out. I'll have to go see on the spot. I suspect electronics overload. Apart from that, the shields will recharge as normal. There doesn't seem to be any permanent damage.”
“Okay.” Strachan stood. “First Officer, Gunner, with me. You have the con Mister Gareth. Pipe the full damage report to my cabin.”
When the cabin door slid closed with a soft whisper, the captain headed straight for his small bar, tucked away in a dark firewood cabinet behind his desk. He pulled out a bottle of single malt scotch and held it up, looking at Darhad and Decker.
“No thanks, sir.” Decker shook his head. He preferred to stay sober until he was sure they had lost the pirates, which made quite a change from the man who'd crawled into a bottle the day they took away his career. Darhad, whose Arkanna metabolism could handle alcohol a lot better than humans could, accepted a healthy slug.
“Sit.” When they were comfortably seated, the captain stared at Zack with cold eyes. “Mister Decker, let us clarify one thing right now. The knowledge about our, ah, special cargo is very restricted, and I wish to keep it this way. You will refrain from speculating openly on the bridge and stick to doing your job, which is protecting this ship. Do I make myself clear?”
His tone raised Zack's hackles. He opened his mouth to reply when he caught Darhad's meaningful glance. She gave him a minute shake of the head. With a shrug, he swallowed his words before they were formed.
“Aye, aye, sir,” he replied instead, looking down at his feet. “Permission to ask a question, sir?”
Strachan didn't smile at the gunner's phrasing.
“Go ahead.”
“Are we carrying anything that could warrant a pirate's particular attentions? Apart from the stuff I know is in the hold.”
The captain stroked his beard, dark eyes boring into Zack's baby blues.
“You're asking a lot of me, aren't you,” he finally said.
“Either you trust me, or you fire me, captain. My job is to keep the ship and its cargo safe. For that, I need to know everything. And if you think I might rat on you, then space me.” Decker held Strachan's stare. “No one in the Commonwealth will cry the day they fish my body out of a deep vacuum.”
“He’s right, captain,” Raisa's soft voice intruded on the two men.
“Oh, very well.” Strachan sounded angry. “I have a case of Heyken-Avrilus accelerator chips in my cabin. That's probably what the bastards wanted. They're worth their weight in antimatter in the badlands, especially since the Imperials could never make copies with the same high resonance factor. I'd say the case is worth more to them than our entire cargo.”
“Thank you, sir.” Zack nodded. “Now for the clincher. Who else knew about your case of magic chips?”
“Raisa,” he pointed his bearded chin at the Arkanna, “and the contractor.”
“Then assuming the first officer isn't a pirate mole, I'd say the contractor has a leak. Or he has one hell of an insurance policy riding on those chips.”
“No insurance company covers contraband,” Strachan replied in a flat tone.
“Sure,” Zack shrugged, “but even I know a dozen dodges around that. He's covered, believe me. Any chance I could take a look at those chips?”
“Why?” The captain asked.
“Pure, idle nosiness,” Decker grinned. “And to check something out.”
Strachan clearly wasn't willing, but a nod from Darhad and a growing curiosity overcame his reticence. He opened his closet and pulled out an iridium case with a palm lock, placing it on the desk with exaggerated gentleness.
When he opened the case, Zack leaned over his shoulder and picked up a chip. He examined it under the bright light of the cabin. A knowing grin spread over his broad features. That smile quickly changed into an amused laugh.
“You've been had, captain,” he finally told a puzzled Strachan, when his laughter died away. “These aren't Heyken-Avrilus latinum accelerator chips. They're cheap knock-offs that undoubtedly work in low-grade civilian ordnance, but would never suffice for advanced military grade weapons. Even the Shrehari can do better.”
“So the contractor set us up.” Strachan sounded indignant, which only provoked more laughter from Zack.
“When you deal with sharks, sir, you gotta expect 'em to try for a bite. I've seen this sort of scam.”
“He'll pay for it, be assured of that,” Strachan growled.
“He won't be there for revenge when we return, sir.”
“Oh, I'll find him. He took on the wrong people. I have access to resources he's never dreamed about, nor have you.”
“Care to explain, sir?” Decker asked, eyebrows raised.
Strachan hesitated again.
“This information must not be discussed outside my cabin, Gunner.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Have you ever heard of the Amali family?”
“Yes, sir.” Zack nodded soberly. There wasn't a Pathfinder alive who didn't know about the Amalis and their commercial empire, and who didn't hate them with a passion.
They were a political force without equal in the Commonwealth, a force that had corrupted scores of senators and effectively controlled the Secretary General's chair. Rumors also had them as the engine of something called the Coalition. It was reputed to be a shadowy collection of politicos, aristocrats and financial magnates who wanted a return to the days from before the Second Migration Wars, when the central systems controlled the Commonwealth.
The Amalis were also rumored to have a stake in most of the profitable operations in the badlands, illegal businesses like slavery, drug running, organ farming, and worse. Zack had often fought pirates equipped with human-manufactured high-tech gear. But the Amalis had proven untouchable, thanks to their political influence. Money was the ultimate armor.
“Shokoten's ultimate owners are the Amalis, and they don't take such incidents lightly.”
“Yes, sir,” Decker repeated, unsure of what else to say, or feel. Or even think. “Sir,” he finally said, desperate to be alone, “I have a launcher to fix and a ship to check out. If you'll excuse me.”
“Certainly, Gunner. And thank you for that display of tactical finesse. You saved our hides.” Strachan was all smiles and charm again.
“Anytime, sir.” He grinned as he sto
od, but felt sick inside. “I wouldn't say no to a performance bonus.”
Strachan smiled. “Getting the weapons to our customer will give us all a nice little bonus, Zack.”
When Decker was gone, the captain took a sip of his whiskey and glanced at his first officer.
“You know, Raisa, our gunner is much smarter than either of us realized. I didn't know Marine noncommissioned officers were that good. We're lucky to have him, as long as he remains a team player. But I wonder. His reaction to our owner's name was rather strong, though he hid it well.”
“I sense no deception within him, Diego. He is curious, yes, and a bit confused, but that is understandable.” What Raisa Darhad didn't understand was her sudden decision to lie to Strachan and hide Decker's actual reaction.
*
Zack grunted as he pulled the starboard launcher's power coupling. It was fried. The feedback shielding had been sub-standard crap. After crawling out of the access tube, he went down to engineering to hunt for a replacement part. The senior engineer's mate wordlessly led him to the spares locker and left him to his own devices.
Decker still wasn't liked in engineering, but Strachan had made it quite clear that the gunner received what the gunner wanted. And after today's display, no one in his or her right mind would deny him.
An hour later, Zack slipped a modified module into place. It wasn't perfect, but with his little tweaks, it would do the job as well as a dedicated unit.
He nodded with satisfaction as the launcher’s control systems came back online. Now all he had to do before returning to bed was check every remaining launcher and turret. This had been the first time he’d fired them in earnest, and many things could have come loose, but guns were like anything else: the more you used them, the better they worked.
*
By the time he finished his inspection, it was past four bells in the morning watch, yet his mind still gnawed at Strachan's revelations. Nihao wasn't in her bunk when he entered their cabin. He stripped down to his skivvies, climbed into bed and lay there, hands under his head, staring straight at the ceiling.
A short while later, the door opened, admitting the purser who immediately stripped to prepare for her shower. She stopped mid-way and straightened up, hands on her hips, and looked at Zack. Usually, he sneaked a peek at her whenever he could and lately, Nihao seemed to enjoy teasing him. But this time, he ignored her.