— 15 —
The loss of the Big B hits the fleet hard. Despite the strict battle drill, the scuttlebutt goes through the fleet like wildfire.
Emerald hears some of it by the coffee urn in the wardroom, where she has gone for a few minutes of quiet. She heads directly for the bridge.
"Open a channel to all ships," she snaps.
She quickly confers with the captains, telling them she wishes to speak directly to their respective crews. With the courtesies out of the way, she gets on the public address system throughout the fleet.
"This is Commander Sheller speaking. I'm saying this once and once only. Every man jack of you, from El to 09, belay this scuttlebutt. The Brooksville is in no imminent danger, and the chances are she will rejoin the fleet before we hit our objective. In any case, you are all battle-tough space rats, not more than one cut above the pirates we're after. This is war, and you win some and lose some and that's the way it goes. Our morale is worth more than one ship, any ship, and our objective will be gained if the last living one of us has to do it alone in a vacuum suit with a pugil stick. This is 'hurry up and wait' time, but when we hit the enemy we will be one lean, mean fighting machine. Stay chill, men, stay chill."
She hears the scattered cheers and company battle cries resounding through the Inverness and knows that the other ships have been similarly affected.
When she returns to her station, Captain Hodges catches her eye and flicks her a salute. She smiles back at him as she returns the salute and resumes the long watch.
"Ma'am, the Hummingbird is reporting a faint communication signal front a position starboard to the fleet." Before she can respond, the communications officer's attention again turns to his console, and he adds, "That's confirmed by the Sparrowhawk."
"Patch me in. Hummingbird, this is Sheller. We copy. Wait, it's coming in directly."
The communications tech plays his console like a virtuoso, and the faint signal is enhanced.
"Help us, please. Anybody. Mayday. Mayday. This is the Last Chance. We're a mineral tanker. We've taken hull damage. Please, anybody. We're losing air."
"Oh, shit," Emerald spits, slamming her fist down on the table. "Check the registry."
"Done, ma'am," Dixon snaps out, efficiently, and the information appears on Emerald's screen.
"Oh, great. Mars registry. That's a catchall. Well, ladies and gentlemen, is it for real?"
Martian registry was indeed a problem. The lower safety standards and tax structure made it a godsend for penny-ante companies, but it also was a known cover registry for smugglers, spies, and bandits. Nonetheless, the problem remains that a mayday has been received, and it cannot be ignored.
"What have we got with any real firepower on that flank . . . and speed?"
"The Discovered Check is closest."
"Right. Deploy the Check with the two escorts who received the message, and pull off the two fastest, most heavily armed ships from that flank."
"The Scimitar and the . . . let's see. The Kukri has the firepower edge but the Pike has the speed." Dixon is earning her pay.
Emerald looks at the stats. "The Pike. Shuttle a dozen Slugs to the Check. I suspect we're going to be boarding the Mayday. What kind of time frame have we got?"
"The Mayday is some distance out. I figure"—Dixon taps at the simulator—"forty minutes from launch to contact. If we want to risk their playing catch-up, realistically they have about two hours all told. Unless we wait for them."
"Okay. Same drill as before. Give the order."
She listens as the command is relayed. It would take no more than ten minutes for the Slugs to mount up and blast off. The Check has more speed than anything else in the fleet, so they can delay their move for twenty minutes while the Slugs board.
Emerald watches the radar, again helpless, dependent on the training and intelligence of her officers to carry out the next tactical move. All she can do now is wait and watch the monitors. In the heat of a shipboard battle, any order from her, Emerald knows, will cause more confusion than it can do good.
On the bridge of the Check, Captain Undermeyer rubs his neck, trying to ignore the deep pain of the newly healed laser wound. This mission is all too familiar. Unless the Mayday opens fire, it will be a boarding mission, and the last time he boarded a ship he had nearly gotten himself killed. Well, that was last time and this was this time, and this time he was not going to cowboy. This time he will have Slugs on board.
"Are we secure for launch, spaceman?"
The enlisted man speaks into the intercom with the shuttle bay. The shuttle has already docked, and the Slugs are in the airlock, awaiting pressurization.
"The shuttle has undocked, and is under way, sir. Ready for launch."
Undermeyer gives the command and studies the radar screen as his squadron of five ships approaches the Mayday, fanning out into a crescent. The message is still being repeated. It sounds real enough, but . . .
They reach the Mayday after almost thirty-five minutes. At best it is going to be catch up on the way home.
"Open a channel, spaceman," the captain orders when he and his four escorts are in striking range and deployed.
"This is the USJ Discovered Check. Please identify yourself."
"This is the tanker Last Chance. Please help us. We're losing air."
Undermeyer looks at the hull on his screen. He can see the telltale "dust" of decompression. One of the plates is damaged near the cargo bay. He wonders why they haven't sealed off the bay. Something is wrong.
"Please clarify." He stalls for time and fishes for information.
"We were hit by a rock about a week ago. The bay was damaged, and the bay doors jammed. We jury-rigged a seal, but it isn't tight. We were low on supplies and fuel to begin with, which is why we were on a run into Juclip. We lost our cargo of ore, but worse, our environmental unit is damaged and our oxygen supply is leaking. We figured we had about four days, at best. Your finding us is a miracle."
"Prepare to be boarded." Undermeyer orders, maneuvering the Check to dock with the tanker and leaving the details for his exec to work out with its captain. So far it sounds good, but Undermeyer is a hard man to convince these days.
"Chief Perez." He stares at the massive Slug on the screen. "Take your men and a unit of my men, armed with laser rifles and gas grenades. Secure the Mayday, if that is what it is."
The chief jogs his men into the airlock, the unit of spacemen jogging behind them. They cross, and board the Last Chance. So far, it is as advertised, but there is no welcoming committee.
"Jimenez," the chief hisses. He holds up two fingers, then points his rifle down the passage to the engine room.
Jimenez detaches his squad and gestures to one of his two Slugs, a muscular, stocky woman, to take the point. She runs down the deck to the first turn, and holds the corner as her buddy slams his body to the far corner. Jimenez brings up the rear, sliding around the corner, as his point moves out, followed by his patrol. Then they are out of sight.
The chief points to Popolus and hisses, "Greek, engine room," holding up two fingers. The Greek takes two Slugs and jogs down the gangway to the hatch leading below.
All are in pressure suits, and all have their pacifier-disrupters ready to fire.
The pacifier is an insidious little device, first developed to render criminals pliable for trial and rehabilitation. It soon became available to the criminal syndicates and was mass-marketed to thieves and pirates throughout the system. No amount of public pressure could create the legislation needed to freely supply the disrupter to honest, law-abiding civilians for self-protection, so except for those who can afford to support the brisk black market trade in them, colonists are easy pickings for raiders.
The communications button in Perez's ear crackles.
"Engine room secure. Chief," Greek reports.
Seconds later, Jimenez reports in, "Cargo bay looks like a bomb hit it, Chief. The bay doors are leaking like a sieve."
"Okay, join up and move up to general quarters deck. Spaceman," he barks, addressing the leader of the regular forces, "dispatch a patrol behind my men and hold both the engine room and cargo bay."
"Yes, Chief. You, you and you, with Hildeman. You three with Rosario. Move. The rest on me."
They move up to the bridge, leaving a reserve of three men in the airlock. There are five people on the bridge: two men, a woman, and two children. (They all look unkempt, except one of the men, who is dark and greasy and has beady eyes that won't meet anyone else's for long.)
"Who's in charge here?" the chief grunts, watching the greasy man and pointing his weapon in his general direction.
"I am." The dark man steps forward. "Thank God you're here. If you could help us repair, we'll be on our way. We certainly didn't wish to cause the navy any trouble."
"Right," the chief says, but in his mind he screams Wrong. These people are hostages, but their captors probably didn't expect to attract a fleet. The details of how the "leak" is controlled or how long they have been holding these people as bait is not clear, but what is clear is that there are a lot of very nasty pirates around somewhere.
"Chief, Hildeman. They've breached . . ."
"Shit!" the chief bellows, taking out the dark man with a blast from his laser rifle. "Hold these people. Secure the bridge." The regular forces take the bridge as the chief and six Slugs are bounding triple time toward the cargo bay.
"We are under attack," he radios the Check. Shouting orders to his two patrols as he runs, he and his men hit the doors of the cargo bay. The bay is filled with pirates.
Ship's Marines (Slugs)
Manpower 7
Ordnance 9
Melee 9
Stealth 5
Morale (same as fleet)
There are 7 Slugs in the bay, each heavily armed. Slugs have a Melee Value of 9 each. Their total Attack Strength is therefore 63 to start the attack.
Pirates
Manpower 21
Ordnance 2
Melee 2
Stealth 2
Morale 3
There are 21 pirates, They are variously armed, with average ordnance, and have a Melee Value of 2 apiece, They are not trained as a unit and are getting in each other's way, but they have the numbers and the position.
The Slugs fire from Chart B, the pirates using Chart E.
If the Slugs kill all the pirates, turn to section 17.
If the pirates win, turn to section 18.