Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (6 page)

She'd spent weeks doing the impossible, tirelessly working with the fisherman and boat owners to get those they could to the islands and to relative safety. They'd worked deals to help the fisherman and boat owners, some old friends also anxious to move their own families outside of the reaches of the marauders. The community had really come together under the crisis. She was proud of them.

She'd put up with the rich who'd come in demanding transport at any cost. The poor but desperate lubbers had set to sea in anything that would float. Her people had done their best to keep them afloat, but it hadn't been easy.

Gaggles of boats, dinghies, barges, and other craft had been roped and chained together far off shore. When they'd been bombed, the survivors of other groups had learned not to group in such large concentrations.

But in recent weeks fewer and fewer of the boats had been seen on the horizon returning to the dangerous waters off shore. The fisherman had turned their attentions to feeding their relocated families and supplying the outlying communities in exchange for the ever dwindling supply of fuel and parts.

She'd gone to shore with a small group of adults to find more medical supplies and other things on the shopping list she'd been given. In exchange for everything on it, Quincy promised safe passage for the remainder of the folks left on the beach. Whatever they found above and beyond his list, they could keep for themselves.

Unfortunately, it was a long list. A long list of stuff in very short supply. Stuff desperately needed by everyone it seemed … and very picked over. They'd had to venture further and further inland to find some of the materials. Fuel alone was a serious problem. Everyone needed it to get out or for their generators.

The screams alerted her something was up. Not the screams of her people, many lacked proper vocal cords. The scientists who had created them had needed the room for breathing tubes it seemed. No, it was the scream of bombs falling and an aircraft buzzing by overhead.

She went to a window and saw the puffs of dark smoke. Her guts froze like ice for she recognized where they were. Sand and water spouted as a shuttle made another strafing run.

Her eyes weren't designed to see far in air. She cupped a hand over them to block the sun but couldn't make out the details. Emory brought her a looking glass, and she looked through it to see a few heads in the water. Those heads dove as the shuttle made a third pass. They were driving them to the shore.

She felt Emory touch her arm, and it broke her intent gaze. She looked at him, then to where he was pointing a few blocks away. Soldiers were there, creeping in. They were cut off, with soldiers between them and the shore.

“We're trapped,” Emory gurgled. His webbed hands and sharp claws dug into the windowsill. His stripes pulsed with color, as did his gill slits. Emory had wide large eyes and a flat face that lacked a human nose. He had a broad chest and neck with his gill slits built into the base of his throat. He had fins on his cheeks and fins for ears. The antenna on top of his head flicked in agitation as did the fins on the side of his head. His top mohawk fins danced.

There was no way he would blend in she thought. No way any of them could. “Look, oh look!” Anita said, pointing to the children being rounded up.

“What are they doing?” Emory asked.

Mara focused on the captured children with the spyglass. Some of the parents were on their knees or tails begging the young to be spared. A few even swum in from the relative safety of the water. They were fools; all should know that children could be replaced. But they were also still partially human; the drive to protect their young at any cost was still strong.

The humans grouped them, allowing the children to intermix with the parents as they surrounded them. She watched as the pirates picked through the group once they were certain they had all that they could find. A group of men and women in medical smocks examined each of the captives with clinical but brutal hands. Their disdain for their subjects were obvious even from the distance they were viewing from. Some didn't bother to hide their disgust. Those of her people with Terran-like bio forms were immediately segregated into a new group. Those with bio forms not easily supported by the ships in orbit were checked over and then placed in a second group. Just about any who had a tail instead of legs was separated out into the second group. When they were finished, a second winnowing went through the first group; the old and sick were picked out like fish in a bait ball. They were dragged over to the second group. When they were finished, the soldiers leveled their weapons and executed the second group on the spot, much to her own as well as the captive's horror.

“Spirits of space. Poseidon bless the innocent …,” she murmured. Her eyes teared. She ducked her head to dash the tears.

“What? We heard the shots …,” Emory blinked at her with all three sets of eyelids. It was a sure sign of his distress she noted in the back of her mind. She shook her head.

“All gone?” little Anita asked, eyes wide in fright.

“Not quite,” Mara said roughly.

“They must know we're here. The building is surrounded,” a voice said from the open hallway.

Emory and the others muttered in fright. Mara sighed heavily.

“We can't run. Running is for lubbers. This was a fool's errand after all,” Emory said bitterly.

“It was a risk. I know it. You know it,” Mara said, turning her head away. “You out there!” she called out, leaning out the broken window. “I'll surrender my people if you give those you do not wish to keep safe passage.”

“You'll come out anyway, whether you like it or not,” a voice replied with a bark of a laugh.

“Maybe. But we've seen what you're doing to our friends and family. We have nothing left to lose. You let the others go, and we'll lower our weapons. If you harm them, we'll shoot you and then ourselves and you get nothing.”

There was a long pause as they seemed to consider that.

“Send them out,” the human voice ordered.

“No deal. Here is how this is going to work,” she snarled. “We'll send one out. They get to the sea and then you get one of us I know you want. We'll keep doing that until we're out of people—one for one. If you harm any of them, if they are killed, we're done. The rest of us are dead. I'll … I'll kill them myself,” she said. She heard Anita's gasp from behind her but did her best to ignore it.

“What makes you think you are worth the trouble, lady?”

She glanced over to Emory who was using a wash cloth to dribble water on his and Anita's gills before she turned back to the window.

“Because I'm smart. Because I know you. Because I know you want us to navigate your ships,” she said, hissing the last word. There was a mutter from some of her people.

“No!” Emory said.

“It's not like we have a choice, Emory,” Anita murmured, blinking her own triple set of eyelids. The fins on her cheeks moved briefly.

His antenna rose and then fell backwards in response as he realized the inevitable.

“How do you know this?” the Terran finally asked.

Mara barked a laugh. “I know. I've seen spacers come recruiting our people for some time now. They want us
badly
. You want us badly. Do we have a deal or not?” she demanded.

“Safe passage …,” one of the hated pirates turned to another. “We can't!”

“We don't have the time to …. We've got to do it or there'll be hell to …,” someone else said gesticulating as he joined them.

“Sergeant …,” a man in a white medical smock said, motioning to one of the human leaders. The trio of humans leaned together, speaking quietly for a while. Finally, their little pow wow broke up. The second man seemed angry, but he finally nodded. The medical man looked up to the window and then away. He grimaced but didn't say anything.

“You've got a deal. Send out the first,” the first voice ordered.

“Volunteers? Mara asked. One small hand was tentatively raised. She nodded. “Atlantia, go,” Mara said, looking over her shoulder. “Anita …”

“I know. They'll want me.” she looked at Emory. Emory seemed sad as he stared into her eyes.

“I'll make sure they play it right,” Mara said, holding up a can of precious fuel. It was only half empty, but enough to start a fire if necessary.

“Spirits of Space bless,” Atlantia said, touching her forearm to Mara's. Mara nodded.

They watched Atlantia go out. She looked at the humans in terror, then ducked her head as one jerked her head to the shore. She moved at her best pace to the waiting wharf. When she got to the edge she didn't hesitate, she kept going right over the side into the sea.

“Now my turn,” Anita sighed as she rose from her position. “Emory …,” she touched arms with him.

“I'm never going to forgive you if she gets hurt; you know this, right?” Emory demanded, swiveling his eyes to Mara. His fins were flat and depressed, color drained out of him.

“Then it's best I am going with her,” Mara said evenly. “I'll do what I can to keep them alive.”

“You do that,” Emory said, watching his friend and occasional lover surrender herself. They watched as the humans took her into their custody. The medical man and his assistants were rough in examining her, but finally she was let into their knot of soldiers. Two bound her in tape to keep her from escaping.

“Bastards,” Emory muttered.

“Now you, Emory,” Mara ordered. He flipped his antenna and then moved out without saying anything else.

She was surprised when they took him as well. Apparently they judged he was sufficiently close to their ideal to keep. Perhaps it was because he walked on legs? She wasn't sure. At least he'd see Anita, she thought, depressed.

One by one the others went until only two were left. Mara nodded to Jamaica. He nodded back and then left with only one backwards glance. The pirates let him pass.

Mara found a piece of paper and left a message to Admiral Irons before she surrendered herself. “I had to surrender. Please pass this on to the navy. I'm so sorry, John. I've got to do this—for my people. You know you'd do the same. I know you'll understand. Please, please protect those that survive here.” She tacked it to the door for others to see. Hopefully the pirates wouldn't come in to search for anyone hiding and would leave it alone.

Chapter 3

Firefly
had burst out of the Gaston jump point to a crescendo of silent thunder and crackling lightning. Their arrival was bright enough to rival the star system's mother star ever so briefly before the light began to fade and then end as it moved away and the vacuum returned to restore the natural order of things. Electrons over excited were pushed outward they knew. “Secure from jump stations,” the A.I. intoned.

“Aye, sir, ship securing from jump stations,” the chief of the boat intoned.

“Active sensors. Let's have a look,” the captain said.

“Aye, ma'am, go active on sensors. Performing one sweep and one sweep only as per prior orders,” the Veraxin sensor tech intoned formally. Renee nodded. Good, the bug hadn't forgotten.

“Ma'am, CIC is reporting a virtual ship convention in ET orbit. Four tangos, they look like tin cans. Nine other ships of various sizes, makes, and models. They have civilian emissions. Most seem to be freighters of one sort or another.”

“And I'm guessing no one is squawking an IFF?”

“No, ma'am,” the tech said.

Captain Mayweather looked at her ship's A.I. avatar thoughtfully. “Anything in the books about an unscheduled arrival? I know Admiral Irons wanted to get ET on the map.”

“No, ma'am. Prometheus was supposed to be here but never showed up.”

“Which is why we're here instead of doing another lap north or west,” Renee murmured. “Anything more CIC?”

“We're still getting … they know we're here, ma'am. The tangos have gone to emission control. We picked up a second emission source near the gas giant.”

“Oh?” She frowned. “Didn't the admiral leave a refinery platform there?”

“Yes, ma'am, according to the records,” Firefly stated.

“That fits with the emissions of the tango, ma'am. She's big and was near the last known orbit of the refinery platform. We're tagging her as a large tanker for the moment.”

“Interesting.”

“Ma'am, we had a brief series of ghosts as well. Most were on the neutrino emission board, but they didn't stick around like the ships in orbit and the tanker.”

“Curiouser and curiouser. Did we miss a few when they went to emission control I wonder?” Renee murmured. She glanced at the elf manning the tactical station.

“It's possible, ma'am,” First Lieutenant Purple Thorn said, looking up.

“Bridge, CIC,” both officers looked up to the overhead to the more familiar voice of Lieutenant Leo. “We're getting flashes on the planet consistent with kinetic or nuclear strikes,” a tech said, voice suddenly strained.

That made just about everyone sit up and take notice. Thoughts of the ships being friendly were now forgotten. “They are bombing the planet?” the captain asked, voicing her concern.

“Yes, ma’am. The flashes are too big for anything else,” the tech said. “I'm sorry, ma'am.”

“Why? Not your fault, Dorati. Keep me posted,” the captain said, cutting the link with a flick of her implants. “So, we've got hostiles in control of the orbitals. They've got quite a posse of support ships. I'm wondering if that is an invasion fleet?”

“I'm not so sure, ma'am. It is possible I suppose, but the ship we ran down in New Andres was scavenging,” Firefly stated.

“Not a pleasant thought, but possible I suppose,” Renee said carefully. She wasn't ready to shoot the idea down, even though her idea fit their current data and understanding of the scenario better.

“Ma'am? Do we have a plan? We're outnumbered,” Lieutenant Commander Simon Dart, her XO asked carefully.

“We need to get them away from the planet,” the skipper said. “Since they know we're here, I suppose it is too much to ask for that we play possum and lead them to us?” she asked, looking at the elf.

The TACO shook her small head. Goat-like eyes stared at her. “No, ma'am. Not with that ping we let off,” she warned.

Renee gave a theatrical sigh. “Thought not. So, if we can't be sneaky about it, we do this the hard way I suppose.”

“Ma'am? What about going into stealth and then tearing them up?” the XO asked carefully. “We can hit from a vector of our choosing that way. They'll never know what hit them if we take a page from your Antigua battle,” he said.

“No,” Renee said after a moment of thought. All eyes had been expectantly on her. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't like leaving the civvies out on the limb that long. If we go in hard and fast, they'll react. It'll bounce them from the planet at the very least. If they concentrate on us, well, we'll take our lickings, but we'll make sure they know they've been kissed in return. Guns will see to that,” she said, smiling a tiger grin. The elf nodded.

“And if they scatter?” Firefly asked.

“That's harder to quantify,” the captain admitted. “Put our fighters on alert. They can at the very least run the civvy ships down. Undoubtedly they are tenders or prize ships with slaves on board.”

“Shooting them up won't help them, ma'am.”

“No, but something tells me they'd rather get shot up by people trying to save them than endure another day of being a slave and tortured,” the skipper said scathingly enough to make the XO wince.

“Sorry, ma'am.”

“Not your fault, Simon.”

“Ma'am, we're picking up emissions of shuttles rising from the surface.”

“They are evacuating then,” Renee said with a nod. “Smart of them I suppose. Helm, move us in. Best course and speed.”

“Aye, ma'am,” the helmsman said formally. He turned to murmur to the navigator to adjust the planned course then began executing it.

Renee watched them with hooded eyes. They'd had it plotted already as well as alternatives. That was good, they'd learned long ago to anticipate her orders. And they were adjusting and keeping them up-to-date, also good. She had a well-trained crew.

“They aren't moving, ma'am,” Leo said from the overhead.

“You mean they aren't moving yet,” Renee said, looking up with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Tell me if that status changes,” she said with a slight bite of warning in her voice.

“Yes, ma'am,” the sensor officer replied, sounding chagrined as he again cut the circuit.

“He should know better by now,” Simon said softly.

“He's nervous. Excited probably, but nervous about screwing it up,” Renee murmured back, leaning closer to him. She saw some eyes cutting their way. She snorted mentally but refrained from ordering them to pay attention to their duties.

---<>))))

A day later they were perplexed that their intended prey was still stubbornly holding orbit. “Do they think they can outrun us? If they do they are sadly mistaken,” the XO said.

“Or they think they can stand and fight. No comm from them?”

“No, ma'am. We would have told you. We can't pick up anything from the planet; she's dark comm wise,” the comm rating said.

“Damn. So, no broadcasts there either.” She'd hoped something would let them know what the hell was going on. Her imagination was filling in the void, and she didn't like it. Not one bit. A bit of a reality check might help her … or might make it worse.

“Twenty hours to orbit, ma'am. They have fourteen minutes to break orbit and avoid us if they scatter. Their drives are warm but not hot,” CIC reported.

Renee nodded. As they got closer, they received better information from their active sensors. That was the good news. Unfortunately, it was the one sliver of good news she had available. She clung to it.

“If they try to fight as a unit, it will be a turkey shoot. They've got what, a couple
Nelsons
?”

“An
Arboth,
which seems to be the flagship, two
Nelsons
, and an
Antelope
, ma'am. The
Antelope
has the legs to outrun us in a stern chase. The others don't, though the Arboth could give us a run for our money.” The image of the four ships in diamond formation around the support ships came up.

“We'd definitely get kissed,” Firefly said.

“Price of doing business,” Renee said. “We've been burned by the fire before,” she said, eying the A.I.

“Oh, I know. I'm just wondering why they are doing this. Could they think we're a friendly?”

“I don't know. That is a good thought though,” Renee murmured. “Comm, can we spoof a raider? Play pirate and let them lower their guard, then pounce?”

“I doubt it will work this late in the game, but I suppose we could try it,” the ensign said thoughtfully. “I'm not sure how to go about it, ma'am. We don't have their signals or frequencies, and we don't know the players involved.”

“Forget it then,” Renee said. “It was worth a thought.”

“Bridge, CIC. The tanker is moving.”

“Where?”

“She's breaking orbit. It looks like she's headed deeper in the system,” CIC reported.

“Curiouser and curiouser. Why would they trap themselves?” Simon murmured.

“I'm not sure. Never count out the stupidity of your opponents, but never count on it,” Renee said, cracking her knuckles.

“Should we send a fighter pair to nip them, ma’am?” Purple Thorn asked.

Renee paused then shook her head. “No,” she said, checking the vectors involved. “They'd have to go ballistic for part of it and the geometry is all wrong. Good try though guns. We'll either run them down after or we'll have to watch them slink away.”

“Aye, ma'am. I wish we could fire. A long-range C fraction bombardment would thin them nicely,” Purple Thorn said, pulling up her battle plan on the main holo board for the bridge crew to see. Arrows showed the bombardment going in.

“No,” Renee said, shaking her head as she eyed the plan from different directions. “We can't fire. We just can't risk hitting the planet.”

“Damn,” Simon murmured.

“If we can't get it the easy way, then we'll have to do this the hard way,” Renee said firmly.

“Ma'am, the support ships will get out of the way or they'll scatter. We're bound to lose some of them,” the TACO warned.

“We can't win them all, Guns.”

“No, but there oughta be a law,” the elf mock growled. The captain snorted.

---<>))))

“Did I ever tell you my great-great something or other was a magician?” Admiral Von Berk asked.

“No,” the captain drawled, eying his image. “No, I don't think you did, sir.”

“He passed down a few nuggets of wisdom about how he did it. First, you set the stage. You get them hooked by the story and paying attention,” he explained nodding his head to the planet as the bombardment continued. They were burning through the last of their KEW strikes to get it done. But not all of them were headed to the planet. The destroyers were slamming out rounds into the path of the incoming Federation warship as well.
Arrogant
was shooting them a live feed by whisker laser relayed off a satellite they'd left in orbit of the moon.

“You get them fixated on the distraction. They get so busy looking at what the left hand is doing they never see what the right hand is doing.”

“Smoke and mirrors,” the captain said quietly. She nodded. Going toe-to-toe with a Federation cruiser had everyone eager, especially after all the reports they'd read about the battles of Pyrax, Antigua, B101a1, and so on. Now they were going to get some payback. The long nervous wait behind the moon was nearly over.

“Right. Hopefully they are so fixed on the planet and dodging the shots coming their way, they won't see the real strike until it is too late,” the admiral growled.

---<>))))

“What the hell are they playing at? They are just sitting there throwing rocks!”

“Yes at us and at the planet. We can dodge; the planet can't,” Purple Thorn stated bleakly.

The captain's eyes cut to her then back to the plot. The helm was jinking every few minutes but kept their base course the same. They were throwing everything at Firefly. Unpowered missiles that would pop on when they got close to their engagement zones kept them on their toes. But rocks and small objects just didn't make sense. She could take the hits on her shields if she needed to do so but jinking with the grav drive was so much simpler or just using her tractors to brush the rounds aside.

A few came in fast enough to force them to dodge, but the helm had it under control. They'd jink, sometimes rolling on their base course to get around something moving too fast to divert. It was so … dumb. The missiles alone …

“It is keeping the defensive team on their toes,” Firefly stated. “Ensign Drum has rotated shifts twice.”

“It doesn't make sense,” Lieutenant Leo stated. The Neocat waved to the plot. “We're still a day out. The tanker we can cut off at anytime, but they are staying on course.”

“Are they out of fuel, perhaps?” Simon asked. “Throwing everything at us to get us to back off while the tanker comes in to refuel them?”

“Why not refuel on the run? Why just sit there?” Leo said, waving a disgusted hand to the plot.

Technically he was supposed to have the watch while the rest of the senior staff got rest. But no one could rest, not with the rocks and other things flying their way. And when you threw in deep thoughts about what was going on groundside, it wasn't conductive to normal sleep rhythms.