Give No Quarter (Privateer Tales Book 10) Page 2

  Atmosphere flooded the bay and a moment later the harried Kaeth Brunkow and a younger man met us at the door, holding heavy blast rifles. "We're on your six. Move out, Brunkow." I barked my orders using the voice I'd heard my late father use so many times before when he was looking to spur someone to action.

  Whether I was actually channeling Big Pete, or Brunkow was just that freaked out, I didn't care. He took off at a dead run, something he was in ill shape to do.

  "Bridge is here," he said, pulling up no more than twenty meters in.

  My HUD showed that we were in the middle of the ship.

  "I need bridge control," I yelled. "Jonathan, give him my ident."

  "This doesn't look right," Brunkow said. His instincts weren’t bad, but we weren’t going to give him time to figure it out.

  Tabby spun around, pulling a pistol from her thigh holster. "I'm not dying today, Brunkow! Frakking do it before we're torn to pieces. That sonnavabitch is gonna drop rockets up our ass if you don't move!"

  "Lieutenant, stand down," I yelled. "He's just doing his job. Maintain discipline!"

  Tabby darted glances back and forth between the panicking maintenance worker and me. "He's going to get us killed!"

  "Stand down, Lieutenant!"

  Tabby lowered her gun and the younger man, Rowser, chose that moment to point his heavy blaster at her chest.

  "What's it going to be, Kaeth? The Lieutenant is probably right. If that bird has rocks, it'll open this tub right up," I said.

  "This is ten ways to frakked up," he replied. Peace Bringer, authorize LN-2016221895, full control.

  "Jonathan, check it," I said.

  "You've got control, sir," he said. "We're running a diagnostic."

  Tabby wasted no time and punched poor Chester Rowser square in the nose. The sound of breaking cartilage shortly preceded his fall to the ground. Before Brunkow responded, she'd spun and brought her heel into contact with his jaw, knocking him unconscious.

  "Jonathan, can you use the access we have to lock out Belirand?" I asked.

  "Belay that, Liam," Nick said over the comm. "You'd end up locking down the supply cache."

  "Roger that, Nick. What's the plan?" I asked.

  "You, Marny, and Moonie take the prisoners to the cache," he said.

  "What do you have for me, pint-size?" Tabby asked. She’d picked up the new nickname on Ophir and was trying it out on Nick. He’d always been the smallest kid in our class at school and Tabby was the only person allowed to pick on him. Oddly enough, it was generally Tabby who enforced the rule.

  "Really? Pint-sized?" Nick rarely complained, but this one he apparently didn't care for.

  "Aww, don't listen to her, little man," Marny said.

  It was unusual for us to talk quite so much while on a mission and I felt like we were losing focus. "Cut the chatter guys, we need to save it until we're in deep space."

  My HUD lit up with green dots next to everyone's avatars - that is, except Moonie’s. It was something we referred to as a ready-check and it communicated agreement. I didn't feel bad about Moonie not replying, as he had no way to know what we were doing. I realized that I'd placed us all in danger by bringing an untrained crewman along. Worse yet, he'd even warned me of just how uncomfortable he'd been and I'd ignored him.

  "Tabby, undock Peace Keeper so Silver can bring Hotspur in. We'll transfer to the cache first, then load supplies onto Hotspur," Nick said.

  It was a good plan. Not only did Hotspur have a generous five hundred cubic meter hold, but it had a single aft loading ramp that gave quick access.

  "Copy that," Silver acknowledged.

  "Just give me the word," Tabby answered.

  "Marny, grab Brunkow. I've got the kid. We'll dump 'em on the station," I said. "We're on the move. Moonie, where'd you disappear to?"

  "I'm headed to the cargo bay now," Moonie replied. I shook my head. Working for a corporation had ruined him. Wandering off in enemy territory was a good way to get killed.

  Reduce gravity to 0.3g. I leaned over and zip-tied the kid's wrists and ankles and slung him over my shoulder. Marny was a step ahead of me and I jogged down the hallway after her. As I did, I took in the general décor of the ship. It wasn't quite the same fit and finish as the luxurious Strumpet, but I suspected that was because this was a working ship and not made for high profile passengers.

  When we returned to the cargo bay, Moonie waited by the open airlock. I nodded as we passed him on our way to the station's large bay. The first thing that struck me about the cache was just how simple it really was. The entire thing was just a big steel box, large enough to hold supplies for a multitude of ships. "I didn't think Belirand kept these caches manned," I mentioned to Moonie.

  "Normally they don't, but Belirand has more ships than they do crews. They must have needed Peace Bringer's crew to have left her behind," he said. "You need to leave it here. I'm telling you, stealing fuel and consumables is one thing, stealing a ship… you can't come back from this."

  "We're not having this conversation, Moonie. Get those stevedore bots fired up and online so we can start loading as soon as Mom lands," I said. "And lose the atmo in here."

  Marny and I continued through the huge cargo bay, still loaded with our prisoners. We'd spied living quarters at the back and dropped our prisoners off in the conditioned space.

  Thirty minutes later, Nick contacted me. "Liam, we're out of time. You need to get out of there."

  "Roger that," I said and directed the stevedore bots to set down in Hotspur's cargo hold. "We're out of here, Marny." I clapped my hand on her back as we stepped inside and closed the hold. Hotspur broke free from the station and started sailing as we made our way up to the bridge.

  "Jonathan, you made mention of asymmetric warfare. Is this what you had in mind?" I asked over the tactical channel joining our crew.

  "A near perfect definition, Captain Hoffen," Jonathan replied.

  "I can't believe your luck," Moonie interjected. "That could have failed for so many reasons."

  The young engineer had already annoyed me and he didn't seem to know when to keep things to himself. We'd just about never had luck turn our way. Much to the contrary, I'd always felt like there was an invisible hand that seemed to make us pay dearly for any success we experienced.

  "You know what luck is, Moonie?" Ada asked.

  "What's that, Chen?" Even the way he said her name made me grind my teeth.

  "Luck is when preparation meets opportunity. What do you think would have happened if Brunkow had smelled a rat? I'll tell you what - that frigate would have shredded us. Turns out the luck, as you call it, was all Belirand's. Today they had the opportunity to bury us and they failed. Why is that?"

  "Because Brunkow was an idiot?" Moonie's voice was subdued. Pissing off Ada was hard to do and he was wisely hunkering down to weather the storm.

  "No. Because a brilliant crew recognized and seized an opportunity. If you want to keep sailing with us, you're going to need to find your A-Game and bring it. You nearly got my crew killed today with your frakking antics and you're completely oblivious to that fact. If it were up to me, you'd be back on that cache with Brunkow, waiting for Belirand."

  "I hate to step in front of this, Ada, but bringing Moonie was my call. I shouldn't have put him in that situation," I said. "I nearly killed our crew today by bringing along a civilian."

  "That's crap. We were all civil…" Ada's comm cut out and I looked at Mom whose eyebrows were raised in surprise at Ada's meltdown.

  "Damn, Hoffen. That the way you see it?" Moonie asked, sheepishly.

  "How's that?" I asked, looking back at him at the engineering station.

  "That you shouldn't have brought me along. That I almost got us all killed?" The pain in his voice was evident.

  "I put you in a bad spot, Moon. I didn't know your capabilities and threw you in the fire. Everything after that was on me."

  "So you think Chen was out of line?"

  "Don't push it
."

  BELIRAND MENACE

  "Silver, this is Jonathan. Do you copy?"

  "Go ahead, Jonathan," Mom answered. It was mind boggling just how easily Jonathan had adjusted to our speech patterns. I felt it was to my credit that I'd adjusted to thinking of Jonathan in the plural, although it seemed a small accomplishment.

  "We've a docking harness on the keel of Peace Bringer. Are you familiar with this configuration?"

  "Roger that, Jonathan. If you'll transmit the mating sequence, I'll bring her in," Mom answered, closing the comm.

  "Docking harness?" I asked, looking at mom.

  "Not uncommon on larger ships," she said. "Take the helm, I'll walk you through it."

  "Aren't we too big?" I asked.

  "She'll look pregnant," Mom quipped. "But it's efficient. Peace Bringer's engines are powerful enough to handle the extra load."

  "Do you have anything to report?" I asked, starting our time-honored sequence for handing over the helm.

  "All systems are nominal," she answered.

  "I relieve you."

  "I stand relieved," she said.

  "Is that really necessary with just the three of us on board?" Moonie asked.

  "Discipline, Moon," I answered. "Mom, what am I supposed to do with this sequence?" My vid-screen was blinking with a data upload from Jonathan. It was little more than a few vectors and tolerance. "I don't get how we're going to lock in hard enough to survive transition to fold-space."

  "You've forgotten your girl's history. Her name wasn't always Hotspur," Mom said. "She used to have an HMS in front of her name and with that comes with mating hard-points. All you need do is line her up on that vector and keep her under fifteen meters per second delta-v. The ship's harness will pull you in once you're within five meters."

  "Moonie. Just for my peace of mind, would you validate we haven't covered up those hard-points with all the repairs we've made?"

  "Can do," he said. "Just a minute."

  I closed the distance between Hotspur and Peace Bringer, rolling over so we were belly-to-belly, the forward holo display showing our approach.

  "Gonna need that verification soon, Moonie," I said.

  "We're good to go," he said. "Sorry, her repair history is long and distinguished. It took me a while to wade through it. Would you believe you're not the worst thing to happen to her?"

  I laughed. Moonie's wit was irrepressible.

  "Jonathan, we're in position."

  Cables fired from Peace Bringer's belly, attachment pins embedding themselves into receptacles on Hotspur. I'd missed my spot by a few centimeters and the ship shuddered as the cables tightened, centering us.

  "You've become quite adept with this ship," Mom said with approval. "I'd have been pleased to have lined her up as well." Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded like criticism. Mom, however, had flown hundreds of combat missions for the Marines and her praise was very welcome.

  "I'll take that." I pulled her to me in a side-armed hug as we competed to descend the stairs to the bridge deck.

  "Don't get cocky." She winked at me, quoting an old vid we'd shared when I was a kid.

  "How hard is this frigate going to be to handle?" I asked.

  "While I don't have many hours on full-sized warships, every hour I have is on a frig. They're pretty much one-trick ponies," she replied.

  Moonie fell in line behind us as we loaded onto the lift and rode down to the berth deck.

  "One trick?" Moonie asked.

  "They're made to run," Mom said. "Any ship small enough to run her down won't survive her guns. Anything she can't outgun, she can outrun. Good for scouting, not as much for battles. Although there was a commander who made a name for himself by running a whole flock of these birds. Can't remember his name."

  "Ivanov Kuznetsov," I answered. "Which was the name of Commander Sterra's ship when she visited Colony-40."

  "Right. I should have remembered that."

  "Be careful out here, Moonie. If you lose contact with the ship, we'll have a hard time finding you," I said as I opened the air-lock. Peace Bringer was still accelerating and if any of us got outside the range of the gravity generators, the ship would accelerate out from under us. Not a huge problem, unless you hit some part of the ship on the way past.

  "Not likely. The gravity field extends several meters," he said.

  He was right, but I also knew we were at the edge of the gravity generator's range. I looked forward, down the length of Peace Bringer. Even from the underside, it was quite a sight. She was as narrow as Hotspur at her waist and bumped out as she went forward. The bow of Hotspur was resting at about midline and she just seemed to keep going from there. To the aft, the oversized engines flared out, each of them capable of producing the same amount of thrust as Hotspur. Well, technically, it wasn't thrust, but according to my physics classes it had the same affect.

  "You coming, Liam?" Mom asked as she slid down the safety line running into an airlock.

  "Just enjoying the view." I grabbed the line and slid down next to her, braking with my hands in the light gravity. A familiar symbol in the long air-lock indicated a gravity shift that would orient us with ship normal if we continued. I palmed the lock's panel, closing the outer door.

  Mom and Moonie grabbed handles that ran along the length of the airlock, allowing their bodies to transition with the shifting gravity that would spin them 180 degrees. The grav-suit I'd received from Anino allowed me to easily adjust to the change and I squirted past them through the open hatch above, landing easily on the deck.

  Show ship's layout. My AI displayed a map. I was on a short deck that offered access to the lower engines. Five meters forward, the passageway elevated to join with the main deck above. I recalled stepping aboard the Kuznetsov and having it explained to us that the sloping passageways allowed for easy navigation when the ship lost gravity control. Often Commanders would reduce the gravity in combat to take advantage of considerably faster transit time for the crew.

  Unlike every ship I'd sailed previously, Peace Bringer's bridge was located amidships. Not quite dead center, but close enough. While not as romantic as being able to stare out, unaided, into the depths of space, it was a whole lot more practical. Both more armored and central, the location was chosen with little thought to the aesthetic.

  I palmed the security panel on the aft bulkhead of the bridge. "Permission to enter the bridge."

  "Permission granted," Tabby replied and the door slid sideways, disappearing into the bulkhead. Tabby snaked her hand around my waist before I realized she was standing on the threshold. Brusquely, she pulled me in, her hand slipping south. She accentuated her surprise kiss with a rough squeeze. Suddenly, her head pulled back and she let me go, her cheeks turning a light shade of crimson. "Oh, frak! Sorry Silver. Forgot you were with him." As far as I knew, Mom was the only person in existence that caused Tabby to feel embarrassment.

  "Don't apologize to me. I've always thought he was particularly kissable," Mom said as she stepped through the doorway, placing her hands on each side of my head and kissing me on the forehead. I closed my eyes as my own cheeks now burned.

  "What do you think?" I asked, grabbing Tabby's hand as we looked around the bridge. There was no winning when faced with Mom and Tabby, so it was better to redirect them.

  "Not an ounce of fat on her," Tabby replied.

  Overall, the bridge was much like the rest of the ship - Spartan. No wood inlaid panels on the chairs or fancy polished slate floors. What it gave up in opulence, it gained in functionality. There were a total of six workstations, the largest of which was actually the gunnery officer's station. It sat between the fire control room and bridge with a much larger series of vid-screens. Marny would be able to enter either via the bridge or fire-control room and communicate effectively with both teams. The next largest area sat dead center against the aft bulkhead and belonged to the captain. Two officer's workstations were on either side, one forward and the remaining two occupied the
port side. Finally, a conference room was accessible through the forward bulkhead of the bridge.

  "Do you mind?" I asked, gesturing to the captain's chair.

  "All systems are nominal, Captain Hoffen," Tabby reported snappily.

  I nodded with a grin. We continued the shift change procedure, where I learned that Brunkow had been overseeing a maintenance problem with the waste processor. I considered myself fortunate that it wasn't a problem with the actual septic system.

  Stepping up into the captain's chair, I directed my AI to configure the available displays, then scanned the ship's statuses and found nothing Tabby hadn't reported. The displays were of higher resolution than I was used to and everything was extremely crisp; the colors vivid.

  "Look at the forward bulkhead," Tabby said. "You won't want to miss this." She'd been standing in front of my chair, watching as I acclimated. Her eyes followed mine forward as she threw something from her HUD. In perfect timing with her throw, the entire forward bulkhead as well as the overhead displayed the exterior star field in startling clarity.

  "That's amazing." My eyes searched for failure in the fabric of the vid screens and found none.

  "Thought you'd like it." Tabby said, grinning. She knew me well enough to know I'd been fretting about the bridge's poor view of space.

  "Jonathan, you've been quiet. Were you able to remove Belirand's access from the ship's systems?" I asked.

  "Mostly," he replied. "One hundred three of us transferred to Peace Bringer's neural fabrics and we await the return of the remaining twenty-one. Belirand is quite advanced with their security technologies and we've had to engage directly."

  "You've been at it for less than twenty minutes. My guess is you are seeing some of the best technology mankind has, as far as security goes," I said.

  "Oh. Very much. But let's be clear. Mankind didn't craft the neural mesh in Peace Bringer," he said, matter-of-factly.

  "Nick, are you listening to this?"

  "I am, Liam. We've linked bridge comms," he said. His voice carried the slight lilt I'd come to associate with the fact that he already knew what I was learning.