Reavers (Book 3) (7 page)

“Well, you went through the same two weeks of hand washing the ship.  What happens after that?”

“That’s the fun part.  The captain is going to pick an easy target.  Something to test you out.”

“When?”

As Revel opened his mouth to speak, an elaborate tone rang out.  Despite its complex melody, it simply meant the captain was about to address the crew.

“I know you’ve all got a bit of cabin fever after two weeks of boredom,” Rosalyn said through hidden speakers.  “Fortunately, we’ve got a target ready for the taking.  We jump in fifteen.  Be ready to board the ship in twenty.”

Isabella paused outside the doorway to check over her uniform one last time.  Renoff was a stickler for appearance.  The last head of Military Intelligence was a bit of a slob and never really noticed such things as unsightly creases in people’s uniform.  While she hadn’t cared about pressed uniforms, she had been a brilliant analyst.  When she stepped down, it had been a powerful blow to MI. 

Her replacement, Renoff, was proving harder to assess.  It was obvious the man was talented, but he tended to get distracted by minor details.  Isabella couldn’t be sure if he was a perfectionist or just easily distracted.  Time would tell.  For the moment, however, she had her duties to perform and had to make sure an imperfection in her dull black uniform didn’t distract the man from the important details.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she said with a brief salute as she entered the briefing room.

He glanced up from his pad and nodded in acknowledgement.

“What do you have for me today?” he asked distractedly as his attention drifted back to the pad.

“Several reports from operatives finishing up routine assignments, a few progress updates on some ongoing operations and one troubling development on the rim.”

“Troubling?” he asked.

“As per your orders, we have been intercepting communications in all sectors with heavy pirate activity.”

“Please tell me you’ve got some prime intelligence on those vermin.”

“We’re not entirely sure, sir.  A Navy patrol visiting the rim world of Lintilä transmitted a burst of encoded data before engaging its self-destruct.  I assigned some of our best analysts and they are . . . troubled by what they’ve found.”

“How so?”

“We expected an ambush or some other standard pirate tactics, but what we found was . . .”

“Spit it out.”

“It’s hard to explain without sounding a bit crazy, sir.  The short of it is the ship was assaulted by what appear to be
asteroids
that displayed impossible maneuvering capability.  On a level beyond even our best prototypes.  After that the
entire
crew was subdued by a mass Weaver assault.”

“A new pirate weapon, no doubt,” Renoff said with a sneer.

“Doubtful, sir.  The analysis ruled that out.  They are hesitant to admit it, but they don’t know what could be responsible for the attack.”

Renoff set aside his pad and stood, pulling on the bottom of his shirt to eliminate a few wrinkles.

“Since the Shard decimated the Navy, the pirates have grown bold to a degree no one would have ever suspected possible,” he said in an annoyed tone.

“That’s true, sir.  However . . .”

“They out number us, they out-gun us, and at the moment they out think us.”

“Sir?”

“The
entirety
of the Commonwealth is focused on rebuilding.  The Navy wants new ships, the government wants their glistening cities back, and the military wants an army strong enough to repel the Shard - should they come back.  No one is thinking ahead, just focusing on the now.  Except for the pirates.  They are
always
looking for an advantage.”

“That may be true, sir, but we can’t . . .”

“What is the tactical value of Lintilä?”

Isabella pulled out her pad and double checked the data before answering.

“Negligible.  No valuable natural resources, no strategic value to location, and no exploitable infrastructure.”

“Now, imagine you are some weapons designer the Circle paid to build some new toy.  Doesn’t even have to be the Circle itself, say just one of the larger pirate guilds.  You’ve gone and come up with this new weapon, but they won’t give you full payment until you’ve tested it in the field.  Could you ask for a better location than Lintilä?”

“I see your point, sir.”

Renoff smiled victoriously.  He took her words as agreement.  The man was incapable of realizing she still disagreed, but was unwilling to waste time arguing.  She wasn’t have any more trouble is assessing her new superior.  This was a man who wouldn’t listen to any point of view besides his own once he had made up his mind.  Isabella knew she would have to take matters into her own hands if she wanted results.

“I’ll just forward the data on to the Navy then,” she said in a neutral tone.  “They should know they lost one of their ships to some new pirate weapon.”

“No,” Renoff said slowly.  “We don’t want the Navy to overreact.”

“Overreact, sir?”

“You know
exactly
what I mean.  They would rush off like a bunch of blind zealots.  Divert too many ships and devastate a small pirate research operation to ash.  All the while leaving more territory unguarded for the pirates to plunder.  Or worse.”

“We can’t simply do nothing, sir.  If the pirates control Lintilä, any trade ship visiting to resupply would fall to them as well.”

“Excellent point.”  Renoff turned to stare out the window behind his chair.  “Have the area cordoned off.  Something subtle.  Navigation network failure or something.  Have a ship sent out to observe. 
Maximum
discretion.  If the pirates do have Weavers with them, they might detect us at normal operational ranges.”

“At once,” she said with a polite salute.

“Before you go,” he said over his shoulder.  “Any word on operation Ouroboros?”

Isabella was instantly grateful he had his back to her as she was unable to suppress a shudder.

“Prototype testing is complete.  Performance exceeds expectations.”

“Marvelous.  Have the operation moved ahead to the next phase.”

“Commander!”

His shoulders tensed and he turned to face her directly.

“I mean, Supreme Commander,” she said apologetically.  “The operation still requires months of planning and preparation before we are . . .”

“We don’t have months to wait.  This attack on Lintilä proves the pirates are an even larger threat than I anticipated.  Move the operation ahead,
now
.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a formal salute she departed the briefing room and headed directly to operations.  Those on duty proudly saluted.

“We’re moving operation Ouroboros to phase two,” she announced.

Several got right to work on carrying out the orders with only a few hesitating.  She casually walked over to one of the hesitating men and put a hand down on his shoulder.

“Seal off Lintilä,” she whispered so only he could hear.  “Have our best analysts reassigned to the data we recovered from that sector.  It was no pirate field test.  Have one of our best surveillance ships moved to observe, maximum range.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered back.

“And discreetly get the word out.  Ouroboros is going to kick the hornets nest, have our agents ready for the fallout.”

Was nothing sacred to Rosalyn?  Tardos studied the sad excuse for combat armor and tried not to frown.  After the announcement, Revel had quickly ushered the new crewmembers to the armory.  After handing each of them a standard rifle, he passed out odd-looking cubes.  Apparently, everything the captain touched had to be customized.  Instead of the normal white spheres, Rosalyn had gone out of her way to find something unique.  Opening the cube as Revel instructed, Tardos was greeted with a stiff angular material that looked nothing like armor.  It seemed closer to a ceremonial uniform than combat armor. Why couldn’t Rosalyn leave something so basic alone?

Human skin did a good job of keeping the squishy bits inside in place, but when it came to combat, it was severely lacking.  Unlike everything else in the animal kingdom, humans lacked any natural defenses - no claws, fangs, venom sacs, or carapaces to protect themselves.  Humans didn’t even have speed or camouflage to evade predators.  Thankfully, they did have one thing that gave them the advantage - inventiveness.

What the human body lacked, the brain was able to remedy.  Weapons and armor were quickly developed that shot humanity to the top of the food chain.  With their dominance secure, humanity swept over the galaxy claiming it as their own.  All their prowess hadn’t been enough against the Shard.  When the unstoppable hordes of machines had first shown up, they changed the way humans thought about combat.  The metallic foes shrugged off the most powerful weapons humanity had to offer.

The strongest armors were ripped to shreds by the massive blades of the countless Shards.  To deal with the strength of the machines, the Commonwealth had to completely rethink their approach to combat.  After ten thousand years of desperate fighting, the Commonwealth had finally managed to claim victory.  That victory had been purchased with the blood and tears of countless generations.  Why anyone would turn their back on the combat armor developed in the Great War, for an aesthetic reason no less, was beyond Tardos.

A firm hand shook his shoulder.  Glancing at its owner, he found Kevin already fully dressed in the new armor.  He had done it again.  His mind had gone off on its own while there were more pressing matters at hand.  With Kevin’s help, he quickly muddled his way through donning the odd material.  It wasn’t at all flexible like fabric.  At most, it would bend slightly before snapping back into its original shape.  Glancing at his reflection in the smooth black walls of Rosalyn’s ship, Tardos started to realize why she had chosen the armor.

While standard combat armor was durable and tough, it was anything but imposing.  Truth be told, a trooper in full combat armor had the appearance of a friendly snowman.  These suits, on the other hand, were anything but friendly.  Tardos’ reflection was more of a demon than a man.  The material was a dark blood red with sharp angles.  He looked like a beast with jagged scales covering his body.  He had to touch the wall to remind himself - it was only a reflection.

“Are you ready?” Kevin asked in a gentle voice.

“Let’s hope so,” Tardos said, forcing his hand to leave the wall.

“You’ll do fine.”  Revel’s voice thundered as he rested a hand on Kevin’s shoulder.  “Just stick close to the rest of us and you’ll do fine.  I’m sure your protector here will keep you out of trouble.”

“Hopefully, he’ll be looking out for the rest of us too,” Sasha said sheepishly.

Noticing the girl for the first time, Tardos’ jaw dropped.  Not only were the suits customized, they were gendered.  While Tardos and Kevin looked like scaled demons, Sasha and the rest of the girls looked like seductive succubi.  While the material was angular and sharp for males, it was smooth and form fitting for the females.  Well,
almost
form fitting.  The suits were obviously enhancing some of the female aspects beyond what was originally there.  They even had small but menacing wings on their backs.  Tardos couldn’t help but groan.  Whatever respect he had formed for Rosalyn’s choice in armor had instantly been lost.

“Do you think the captain is a lesbian?” Sasha asked in a whisper, as she studied her outfit.

With a thunderous laugh and a hearty slap to her back, Revel started to grin.

“Don’t be fooled,” he said as his grin continued to grow.  “The captain knows what she is doing.”

“Are you
sure
about that?” Tardos asked, as he studied the outrageous costumes the captain was making them all wear.

“Never seen a long hauler, have you?” Kevin asked, completely unfazed by the outfit he was wearing.

“So he does speak!”  Revel raised an eyebrow at Kevin as he turned to face him.

“It just takes him a while to get used to people,” Tardos said.

“What’s a long hauler?” Sasha asked.  “Is that the ship we’ll be raiding?”

“It’s not a kind of ship, it’s a kind of person,” Revel said.  “Traders are all about turnaround, how quickly they get back into the trade lanes after dropping off cargo.  The most dedicated of the traders are called long haulers because they’ll go months without a break.  I’ve even heard of a few that went
years
without so much as a vacation.  Most times the crew doesn’t even get off the ship when they reach a trade array.  They just drop off one load of freight, pick up another, and set off for the next trade array.”

“Really?” Sasha asked.  “What a horrible life.”

“It evens out,” Revel said with a shrug.  “A long hauler can make in eight months what a standard trader makes in a year.  Of course, after all that time in the trade lanes, they usually don’t bother to take any time off.  They actually grow to like the solitude.”

“How does that explain these
ridiculous
outfits?” Tardos asked, still fussing.

“Think about it,” Kevin said slowly.  “The traders on the ship haven’t seen a new face in months.”

“Now I don’t know about you,” Revel winked to Tardos as he gestured at Sasha, “But after months of solitude, I wouldn’t dream of harming a beauty like that.”

Sasha instantly blushed at the compliment and tried to cover the suggestive outfit with her arms.

“So, the captain is hoping the traders will be too sex-starved to put up any fight,” Tardos said, clearly irritated.  “How does that explain
us
?  I look like something out of a poorly written horror 3P!”

“For lack of better words, you are the women’s protectors,” a firm and slightly hostile voice said.

Tardos instantly spun in place to face the owner of the nasty voice.  Standing behind him was none other than Andreas.  From the disgusted look on his face, it was obvious he shared Tardos’ disapproval of the suits.

“Don’t mind Andreas,” Revel said, trying not to chuckle.  “He often criticizes my work as . . . what do you call it again?”

“Dinner theater,” he said coldly.

“So this is
your
fault?” Tardos asked, clearly surprised.

“Not at all,” Andreas said, correcting him.  “Rosy picked the attire.  Revel just chose to run with it.  Although, I do wish he had put up more of a fight.”

“You can’t argue with results,” Revel said behind a wide grin.

From the way the two men stared each other down, Tardos realized they must have this fight before each and every raid.  If it was Andreas’ job to torment the crew, perhaps Rosalyn’s was to torment Andreas.

“What’s the target?” Kevin asked abruptly.

“A Union ship,” Andreas said, taking a step away from Revel.  “No escorts.  Just finished its seventh jump.  We should have three hours before it can jump again.”

“More than enough time!” Revel shouted excitedly.  “You heard the man.  We’ll be partying tonight!”

As the rest of the new crewmembers tried to sound optimistic, Tardos noticed a look of deep thought on Kevin’s face.

“What’s the matter?” he whispered.  “Don’t tell me you’ve just realized how silly we all look.”

“It’s nothing really,” Kevin said quickly.  “Pre-battle anxiety maybe.”

“While we might be new at this, it’s just business as usual to the rest of the crew.  Relax.  After this maybe we can get a comfortable job down in maintenance.”

Kevin smiled warmly at Tardos’ suggestion.  A sudden silence filled the room.  The Wall had just penetrated the forward edge of the armory.  While the rest of the pirates waited anxiously for it to pass, Kevin continued to smile warmly - oblivious to its approach.

“Jump complete,” the man at the navigation station reported.

The main monitor showed a large rectangular mass of metal slowly crawling through the blackness of space.  Rosalyn leaned forward in her chair, as a sinister smile filled her face.

“They are trying to establish a communications link,” one of the bridge crew reported.  “It’s sloppy work; they must be scared already.”

“Let them wait a while,” Rosalyn said as she readied herself.  “Take a hostile position and close rapidly.  Make them
sweat
.”

Rosalyn’s ship quickly closed the distance between the two.  Its hull was as unique as its interior.  Instead of the blocky designs constructed with efficient jump travel in mind, her ship was smooth and elegant.  Like a massive stingray swimming through the void of space, her ship approached its prey.

“They are attempting to contact us again.”  The woman at the communications terminal was chuckling to herself.  “They are practically begging.”

“Excellent,” Rosalyn said.  “Let’s get this over with.”

The monitor shifted to a view of a tall man, a heavy layer of sweat on his brow.  He was attempting to stand firm, but it was painfully obvious his bravery was forced.

“This is the Independent Traders Union ship, Archer,” the man said proudly.  “State your purpose and . . .”

“Reduce your speed and prepare to be boarded,” Rosalyn said in a sweet voice, interrupting the man.

“We are carrying property of the ITU.  We won’t be . . .”

“Now, we can take that property and leave you in peace,” Rosalyn interrupted again, dropping the sweet voice.  “
Or
we can salvage that cargo from the broken remains of your ship.”

A large bead of sweat rolled down the man’s face.

“They are slowing,” Andreas said, taking his place behind Rosalyn.

“That’s a good boy,” Rosalyn said, insulting the ITU captain.  “If you play nice, you
might
just survive to see tomorrow.”

As she finished her sentence, the image faded back to the external view.  As her ship closed and made contact with the trade ship, four massive clamps locked onto the hull of the blocky treasure trove.  Rosalyn had them now.

“You shouldn’t taunt them like that,” Andreas said, without emotion.

“There was no harm in it,” she said as she stretched in her chair.  “They were beaten the instant we jumped in.  The rest was just a formality.”

As she tilted her head back to look at Andreas, he quickly turned away.  His movement had been a hair too slow.  A grin filled her face.  She had caught him staring.  She was bothering him on a level deeper than any amount of taunting could accomplish - all without saying a word.  Rosalyn could only imagine what Andreas wanted to say to her.  Long-winded speeches about decency and morality, all over a low cut blouse.  However, he held his tongue.  If he said a single word, it would be admitting defeat.  As long as he suffered in silence, Andreas could continue being a chronic killjoy.

“Tardos doesn’t approve of your choice in combat armor,” he said, as if he hadn’t been caught.

“Neither do you,” Rosalyn said, a smile sill blazing on her face.  “So what wonders wait for us on that ship?”

“Rations and building materials.”

“That’s it?”  she didn’t hide her disappointment.

“We wanted things to be simple on their first run, remember.”

“There is a fine line between simple and horribly boring.  You are losing your touch, no doubt about it.”

“We can use the rations ourselves,” Andreas continued, ignoring her comments.  “Duda has already expressed interest in the building materials.”

“Duda?  What does he want them for?”

“Didn’t say.  Probably just wants to settle the score.  You did make him pay ten over after all.”

“Might have to look for someone else to handle our
merchandise
until Duda calms down,” Rosalyn said with a sigh.

Suddenly, a smile appeared on Andreas’ face.  He’d succeeded in ruining her good mood again.  Despite the effect her outfit had on him, Andreas still managed to ruin her fun.  Rosalyn promised herself she’d win yet.

The other ship felt filthy.  Tardos knew it was just an irrational sensation.  Some automated process no doubt cleaned the walls.  In fact, they were probably clean enough to eat off of.  Knowing something didn’t change what his eyes told him.  The walls were a dull and dingy greenish gray.  Most trade ships shared the color, as it came from the cost-effective building materials.  In other words:
cheap
.