Judgment of the Bold

by Jamie McFarlane

  "Add Leaves and ITF to tactical comms," I said. We were just about to come out of hard-burn and would have comms back up in four minutes. The interference from the engines made communication and full sensor resolution nearly impossible, especially from a hundred thousand kilometers. As a result, the four ships jerked across my holo-field as positions were slowly updated and details filled in.

  "Nick, any read on why they've taken such a beating?" I asked.

  "Not much data yet," he said. "ITF has a hole behind its number one engine. Must have gotten hit by something big. I'm surprised Lathrop is keeping up as well as he is."

  We were only a hundred twenty seconds from exiting hard-burn and there was no doubt our presence was known by the four ships engaged in the furball. I found it ironic, when approaching a dog-fight, that it never really looked like much was happening. Sure, as usual, blaster bolts were exchanged and the ships worked on positioning themselves, but it seemed to be happening very slowly. I knew for a fact, when actively engaged in combat, nothing felt slow.

  "ITF is going down," Nick said. "She's hit hard. That little freighter is tossing missiles."

  Never in my imagination would I have believed that a pair of heavily armored Abasi sloops would have difficulty with a pair of freighters.

  "That's nuts. Those freighters have to know we're almost on them. It's suicide. Stolzman, as soon as we break hard-burn, jump to combat configuration. We need to give our boys some cover," I ordered.

  "Aye, aye, Captain," he answered, drawing a proposed navigation plan that would effectively shield Ice Touched Fields from further attack, but would leave Shimmering Leaves open.

  My stomach flip-flopped as Hornblower transitioned from hard-burn to combat-burn. The main difference between the two modes was that in combat-burn, the pilot was given considerable control over steerage. The gravity and inertial dampeners would also respond to force-vectors in all directions. At its essence, combat was significantly less efficient, but it also generally didn't last as long.

  "ITF is tumbling on an intercept with Kito," Nick announced. "I can't raise Lathrop, but someone is trying to fight for control."

  "Marny, focus on those freighters," I said, ignoring Nick for the moment. I'd seen ITF's plight and knew that Lathrop was in trouble. The fact was, there was nothing we could do for the crew. The only chance they had was to get their engines back online. "I want those ships captured and crew alive. Captured is highest priority."

  "Copy. Fire-control, fire package six. Weapons are free. I repeat fire package six and weapons are free."

  "Six?" I asked.

  "The 75mm cannons only and targeting preference for ship disabling," she answered. "Prepared strategy groups was something I learned from Gunnery Sergeant Raul Martinez, rest his soul. He had a total of eighteen packages and drilled the team daily. I'm just picking up the playbook he wrote. Very efficient."

  "Are eighteen packages enough for all the variation?" I asked.

  "No. Gunny Simons will be down there coaching them to be aggressive. Package six could be used to slow a ship you couldn't afford to destroy. We're taking the gloves off. It's an easy modification," she answered.

  "Where'd you get Simons from and why isn't she called gunnery sergeant?" I asked. I'd thought I had a handle on the terminology and was sure I'd been told not to refer to Martinez as gunny.

  "She's Navy. Originally a Brit, too. Marines are gunnery sergeants. Navy’s gunny," she answered.

  "Jupiter," I said. "Can't we just come up with one thing and stick with it?"

  "Give me the word, Cap, I'll make it happen," she said.

  During our conversation, Stolzman positioned Hornblower to provide Shimmering Leaves cover. At the moment we came into range of the first freighter, a brilliant golden line of fire stitched out across my holo field, looking for a home on the larger of the two freighters. In that our presence was a complete game changer, the battle switched rapidly from full-on furball, to get-the-frak-out-of-Dodge.

  "Sandoval, sit-rep," I ordered, addressing the captain of Shimmering Leaves.

  "ITF is hit bad, sir," he answered. "She's not going to make it. We're all up here. Those bastards jumped us. Started launching missiles. Lathrop didn't have a chance."

  "Copy," I answered.

  "You gotta let me go after that smaller freighter," he said. "She's going to get away."

  I'd been watching the displays and Sandoval's assessment was right. We'd hit the big freighter first and the smaller one had run around behind, using the larger vessel's position to partially guard its flank. If I'd been aboard Intrepid, I'd certainly have run it down. I understood his concern.

  "Negative, Andy," I said, using Sandoval's first name. "She might have more missiles."

  "Jupiter piss. If she had any more missiles she'd have used them by now," he retorted.

  "Watch your tone, pilot," Marny snapped.

  "I need you to follow ITF in," I said. "Lathrop might be able to pull out and you may need to provide assistance if he makes it down."

  "Apologies. Will comply," he answered sullenly, his face anything but conciliatory.

  That said, I wasn't about to hold utterances in the heat of battle against him. From the corner of my eye I could see that Marny was about to further correct but I shook my head slightly, deflecting her ire.

  "Simons, any firing solutions on that smaller ship?" I asked.

  Gunny Simons and crew had quickly disabled the larger of the two freighters and peeled off the single turret it sported. It was definitely the softer of the two targets, but I was happy to accept the win.

  "Negative, Captain." I hadn't talked to the woman very often, but her slight accent was memorable. "Mr. Stolzman gave us his best vector and the freighter is just out of range, even for golden bullets."

  "Golden bullets?"

  "Aye, Captain, lucky shots, perfectly aligned and all that. The freighter will simply move out of the way if we fire. There’s too much distance."

  "Nick, what's your read on the big freighter?" I asked. This ship did not show up in the Abasi database of known vessels. It was also, conveniently, not transmitting a transponder signal.

  "Procyon manufacture," he answered.

  "Where's that?" I asked.

  In response, my AI overlaid the holo field with a two-dimensional, rectangular map of the Aeratroas region of the galaxy — essentially what we knew as the Confederation of Planets. The Procyon species came from a system east of Mhina and eight wormhole jumps away. Of course, just about everything on the map was east of Mhina, as it was the western-most system of Aeratroas. The Procyon lived in the center of the eastern third of the map and down about two thirds of the way toward the bottom boundary.

  "Doesn't mean there are Procyon aboard," he quickly added. "They just manufactured it."

  "Hail, Procyon freighter," I ordered.

  "They're not responding," Stolzman said, as we slowly circled the disabled ship.

  "Looks like we're going to have a good, old-fashioned boarding party," I said. "XO, put together a team. I'll meet you on the flight deck."

  "Cap, you shouldn't be boarding. We talked about this," she said.

  "I'll let your Marines handle it," I said, "unless there are Kroerak aboard and then there's some possibility I'll strap on my angry."

  "Promise?" she asked.

  I nodded. I might be captain of the ship and prime of our house, but there were several people who could reach beyond rank or position. Marny was probably second only behind Tabby in her ability to override my decisions, especially when they were tactical in nature.

  "I'm carrying a weapon and wearing armor, but I'm happy to be last through the door," I said.

  "Then we're burning daylight," she answered, stepping in front of me as I made my way to the bridge hatch.

  "Stolzman, you're Officer of the Deck," I said.

  "Copy, I have the deck," he answered, glancing furtively at Nick.

  Our flight deck was a thirty-meter-wide opening in t
he side of the hull about a fifth of the way back on Hornblower's port side. Twenty meters tall, it occupied two decks and stretched across the entire width of the ship. Originally designed to be open on both sides, the bay had been closed off and the armor reinforced on the starboard side. We were using the deck as an easy access hold and as a docking bay for shuttles, not in its original configuration as a fighter bay.

  Thoughtfully, Marny had located the ship's main armory just aft of the flight deck and when we arrived, five Marines were already pulling on bulky armored vac-suits and grabbing blaster rifles, grenade strips, flash-bang-discs, and everything required for a hostile infiltration.

  I kept my kit simple, pulling my favorite slug-throwing 1911 from the rack and strapping it onto my hip. I didn't need armor, as my grav-suit had as much armor quality as the suits our Marines were donning. I also didn't expect to be breaching or cutting, so I left behind grenade strips and the torch I almost always carried.

  "By the numbers, boys and girls," Marny instructed.

  We entered the blacked-out flight deck through an airlock. Ordinarily, a translucent barrier would have kept the flight deck pressurized, but Marny didn't want the freighter's occupants to see the glow and know where we were coming from. It wasn't until we were poised at the edge of the bay that I saw the virtual numbers projected onto the freighter's hull. Marny had assigned each Marine a specific number that corresponded to their job and position on the infiltration team.

  "Cap, I'll have you join us once we're through."

  I blinked acknowledgement on my HUD, not wanting to distract her from the mission with unnecessary chatter.

  She slapped the back of the Marine in position one. In close formation, they all kicked off and floated across the eight hundred meters that separated Hornblower from the enemy vessel.

  One after another the Marines landed lightly on the hull and I found it anticlimactic when the breaching charges puffed a small amount of smoke which dissipated almost instantly. Of course, sound doesn't travel through vacuum so ultimately it was a tiny, intense flash followed by a stream of leathernecks.

  Watching through Number One's video sensors, I saw a flash only a moment after he did. A small, but intense firefight ended twenty seconds later with three Procyon slumped in the hallway. With the entry clear of fighting, I pushed off and fell in behind the boarding party.

  "Are they alive?" I asked as I looked ahead at the three, meter-tall aliens who had their arms and legs bound and were being dragged back down the hallway. To my eyes, the species resembled tall, thin racoons from Earth, complete with long narrow noses; short, thin fingers; dark fur; and pointy ears. In vac-suits, it was difficult to tell if they had fluffy tails, but it wouldn't have surprised me.

  "Two up. One down," Number One answered.

  "You're early, Cap," Marny chastised.

  "Copy," I agreed.

  "Six, restore pressure," she ordered. I suspected she'd want to have yet another conversation with me about roles and responsibilities.

  If there was an all important rule about breaching a ship, it was that speed and intensity mattered. The longer a ship's crew was given to mount a defense, the more dug in they could become. Now that the airlock had been breached, hallway secured, and everyone inside, Number Six erected a temporary partition behind us to hold atmo. We'd lose access to much of the ship as long as the main hallway was open to space. In an emergency evacuation we would still be able to run through it if we had to.

  "Ready," she said, just as the partition sealed itself in place.

  "Move out," Marny ordered.

  The freighter's design was simple. The airlock led into a hallway that T'd off. To the aft was access to the large holds. Forward would be sleeping areas and the bridge. Even though the freighter was five times the size of our old sloop Hotspur, its crew space wasn't much larger. I estimated perhaps a max of ten crew, three of whom were bound and lying on the deck behind us.

  As we approached each hatch, Marny's team shared three responsibilities: cover the hallway, cover the doorway, and weld the door shut with a portable plasma cut/weld rig. With a few centimeters of weld, a hatch would resist most forces designed to open it. Similarly, when the time came to clear the rooms, the door could be freed with a single cut. The only problem with this plan was if someone inside the room had a cutter and the means to put up a solid offense. With only six hatches in the hallway, it took us less than five minutes to secure them and make our way to the bridge.

  "Cap, down," Marny urged.

  I sighed and hunched down so as to provide a smaller target. I couldn't fathom any fire making it past the knot of Marines ahead of me, but Marny had tactical command and it was more expedient to accept her call.

  "Go!" Marny's one-word command set into action a series of events that were over quickly. Fire-wire was applied to the bridge door and when ignited, it burned through in milliseconds. Not waiting for a reaction, the door was kicked inward and FBDs (flash-bang discs) were sent through the door as the Marines flooded in behind.

  "Clear," Number One announced and green ready-checks appeared next to the avatars of each member of the team.

  I stood and walked through the cloudy haze. I couldn't have been more surprised when I discovered, seated in the captain's chair with three Procyon standing behind, a Strix. And not just any Strix, but Quering, a particularly nasty Strix we’d met when first arriving in this galaxy so many stans ago. It had been Quering who tried to kill my cat, Filbert, because he didn't recognize the species. It had also been Quering who seized our comm crystals.

  "I thought I recognized your stench," Quering spat as we locked eyes.

  "Foul stench," I corrected.

  "What are you blathering about? It is as I have always said. Humanity should never have been identified as sentient," he spat.

  "Bind him, especially his beak," I ordered.

  "You can't," he said. "I'm protected by diplomacy. You are breaking treaties. You must release me and my ship at once."

  Number One looked at me for approval and I nodded for him to continue.

  "Nick, we've secured the bridge," I called over tactical. "We found that Strix named Quering in charge."

  "I saw that," Nick answered. "He's probably right. There's a treaty between Strix and Abasi."

  "They’ll need to work that out in a different way," I said. "Attacking our ships and looting our cities isn't going to work for me."

  "Do you know they've been looting?" Nick asked.

  "Not yet, but we'll check out the holds and interview the crew. I can't imagine why else there'd be a freighter this size taking off from Kito."

  Quering attempted unsuccessfully to talk around the edge of his gag. I shook my head.

  "Cap, stay here this time. We're going to clear aft," Marny said.

  "Copy that," I said, sitting at one of the two bridge consoles. The system was still logged in, so I navigated the menus and found the internal vid sensors. I piped the feed to the team as they worked aft.

  "We're clear," Marny finally announced twenty minutes later. "They're loaded with fuel, some machinery and a hefty stockpile of minerals, mostly precious."

  "Nick, can you run a calc? Do we have room to bring this all aboard?" I asked.

  "That and more," he answered. "We burned a lot of fuel taking off from Zuri. I'll get a crew organized. What are you doing with Quering?"

  "Watch." I stood up from the console and turned back to Quering. I wasn't exactly sure where the rest of the bridge crew had been taken, but I mostly didn't care. Looking into the feathered, owlish face, I pulled the binding from around his beak. As a reward, he snapped and caught the fleshy part of my hand, just between my thumb and forefinger.

  "You are as slow as you are dull-witted," Quering cackled.

  I shook my hand, trying to stop the pain. I inspected my hand and discovered he'd taken a small chunk of flesh.

  "And you're about to be space debris," I said.

  "Why? You have been the aggressor
here," he said. "You attacked us during a lawful flight plan. We have no affiliation with the ship that attacked one of your own."

  "You've been looting Kito," I said.

  "A lie, you pasty casing of bovine refuse. The material aboard this ship is property of Strix," he answered. "We were on a diplomatic mission of trade when your delirious sloop crews attempted intercept of a ship that intended to do Strix harm."

  "Marny scan the material. Is it from Kito?" I ordered.

  "Your scan is of no use," Quering replied. "We waited for you who have suckled at the emaciated teat of Mshindi since your arrival."

  "You waited on Kito?" I asked. "You mean, you loaded material from Kito so you could steal it."

  "The material was unloaded onto Kito surface and then loaded back into our hold. It will show the residue of that which has originated on Kito," he answered.

  "Save it," I said. "We're taking our material back and you can stay on your ship."

  "It is not yours to do so. What has caused your brain to be so addled that you so easily misunderstand the obvious?"

  "You might want to make a call to your buddies who left you here," I said. "We'll be on Kito if you decide you still need our help."

  "We will never need the help of a human," Quering answered.

  "Works for me," I said, walking from the bridge.

  "Wait. Will you not release me from my bonds, you puss-filled vessel of rotted meat?"

  "I believe you've proven your beak is sharp enough," I said. "I'm sure you can nibble through your bindings over time."

  "Cap, I don't think he can," Marny said over private comms. "Our bindings are very strong."

  "I know," I said. "Once we have the hold unloaded, we can release him and the rest of the crew."

  "Liam, we have new issues," Nick said as I sailed across the gap between ships.

  "What's that?" I asked, feeling a little off after dealing with Quering. The Strix’s constant berating was annoying, but I took no enjoyment from setting the little ass-hat adrift.

  "Ice Touched Fields crash landed in a gravel pit. Sandoval says Chief Petty Officer Lathrop and crew were all killed on impact."