Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (74 page)

“What? It's not like we can take them all,” the bald man said, eying her back.

“Do the job. No casualties. Secure the door,” she ordered.

He scowled then used his knife to secure the steel door by jamming it in so it couldn't open. “Happy?”

“If you don't mind leaving one behind,” she said as feet began to pound down the passageway. She could see a lot of doors between them and the opposition force. The opposition was in armor. Suddenly her idea of hitting an armory was far more appealing than this nonsense.

“I've got plenty more where they came from,” Blade said, drawing a pair of other blades and then setting himself. “Tell them to bring it on.”

“Tell them yourself,” she said, turning to look over her shoulder to the guard pod. “Hey, a little help here?” she demanded.

---<>))))

“Working on it,” Spikor growled as he got through the last door into the pod. He used his small torch to spot weld a couple suspicious doors shut then got inside. The guards were down, apparently the gas had caught them off guard. Small blessings. He shoved one out of a chair and then took his place.

“Aren't you going to kill him?” Una asked from the doorway.

“Why bother? I've got more important things to do,” the engineer said, tapping at the keyboard, then staring at the various video feeds.

“Boss, we've got trouble coming. Big trouble. We better haul ass,” he warned over the radio. “Una, stay. Arana, go help them move the people out.”

“Got it,” Arana growled, taking off at a trot.

---<>))))

Once the pod was secure, Trapjaw had already set Jitsu to work dragging the prisoners to the breach. When Jitsu saw Arana's masked presence, he grunted. “About time. What kept you?”

“Got held up in traffic,” Arana growled, taking an arm.

“Quit bitching and grab them like this,” their boss said, throwing a guy over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. “Get them out where the air will revive them.”

“Right,” the two men echoed.

“Bet you ten credits I haul more out than you,” Jitsu growled.

“You're on,” Arana replied instantly.

Trapjaw heard it and shook his head. At least it would motivate them. “Easy,” he growled. “Don't damage the merchandise,” he growled in warning when Jitsu practically threw a guy out the breach.

---<>))))

Sharky groggily felt hands on his ankles drag him out from under the table. Then something roughly tossed him onto a shoulder, then he was slammed into the wall and floor. The pain was enough to help him fight some of the lethargy he was feeling.

---<>))))

“Una, get down here and help. Spikor, figure it out on your own,” Trapjaw ordered, surveying the group. There were a hundred prisoners, and with just the three of them moving them, they didn't have enough manpower. At any moment he expected the enemy to flank the breach once they realized it was there.

The good news was that the storm was keeping their air power grounded. But it was a sliver of good news, and he knew it wasn't going to last.

“Jim, better damn well stay where he's at,” he growled, heaving another body. This one moved feebly. He slapped the guy on the face a few times then gave up and just carried him to the hole.

---<>))))

Blade grinned and stuck his tongue out at the pissed off SWAT team two doors down the hall from him. He licked his knife blade then grinned some more. “Can you be even more sick and stupid?” Octavia asked in disgust.

“You want me to jack off for them?” Blade demanded.

“Thank you, no,” the genie said in disgust. She could see the SWAT team were dressed in tactical armor and carrying clear shields. Most likely to wrangle the prisoners she thought. The same for the zip cuffs festooning their uniforms she noted.

One of the soldiers pointed a weapon through the view port window. She instantly ducked and yanked Blade down and out of their line of fire. “Better hurry up, the natives are getting restless,” she said over the radio.

“On it. Blade, if you aren't busy, get your ass back here to help,” Trapjaw ordered.

“Awe, I don't get to have any fun,” Blade pouted.

“I'll go. You stay and be stupid if you wish,” Octavia said, moving out.

“Oh good,” Blade growled. He pulled the blade out of the door, opened it just as she rounded the corner, then threw it at a guy who had just gotten the far door open. The blade went end over end into his helmeted face mask. He went down in a welter of gore as the heavy blade cut through the clear plastic shield and into his right eye. His backwards fall tangled others moving in behind him. Blade yanked the door shut once more as weapon fire popped off in single shots, then steady hammering into the steel door. He yanked out another knife out of his chest harness and slammed it into the jam once more just as Octavia looked around the corner to him.

“You good?”

“Shouldn't you be somewhere else?” he demanded. She snorted, sizing up the situation. She saw the door dent visibly in places as the weapons hammered into it. “I'm good. Go,” he said, sitting on his ass with his back to the door jam, stropping a long blade.

“Right,” she snorted, moving out.

---<>))))

Trapjaw was ready to protest when he saw Octavia show up instead of Blade, but the woman dived right into work. She took a guy under each arm and hauled them to the breach. That was far more than what he'd expected of the Blademaster, so he decided to let the little mutiny slide.

He knew the big boss didn't like the woman because she was a genie. He didn't like any genies, Neos, or aliens. It might explain why he was ready to take on the Horathians with open arms the cyborg thought as he pulled another guy to the breach.

He took a moment to check outside. Odiphus was there, filming with one hand as his free hand urged the staggering men who'd gotten to their feet to the beach. He shook his head and went back to work.

---<>))))

“Time to go,” Spikor said over the intercom as large holes were blown in the door Blade had been guarding. When a guard leveled a grenade launcher he swore. “Definitely time to go. Blade, move!” he snarled.

Blade had managed to scramble to his feet and had gotten halfway to the corner when the grenade slammed into the steel door. The hinges shredded and the door blew inward towards him. The concussive force slammed him back to the ground. A second grenade, this one a flashbang went in and landed a few centimeters away from his head. When it went off with a powerful bang, his head seemed to explode. SWAT members stormed through the opening, danced around his fallen body and the door and then kept moving inward.

“Go, go, go,” Spikor snarled, rushing out of the pod. He muttered a litany of “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shits,” in his wake as he rushed to get out the breach before the boat sailed.

---<>))))

“Where the hell is Blade?” Trapjaw snarled as Spikor came rushing through the breach, running as if his own ass was on fire.

“Not coming, run!” Spikor said breathlessly, not stopping as he rushed through the opening and for the open area.

“Go, go! Time to get out of dodge!” Trapjaw bellowed, yanking a still retching prisoner up. When the guy just started to fold he swore and threw him back into the breach to partially block it. His own people were all out. He turned and rushed to the beach behind them.

When he saw Una and Octavia turn, blink then level their weapons he tucked his arms in tight and twisted between them just as they opened up. Weapon fire tore into the breach as a SWAT member went to it. The prisoner's body danced and writhed under the fire, as did the armored guard. He fell back swearing.

---<>))))

At the beach Sharky had recovered enough to get into the dingy. He made his way to the bow, then sat down. He yanked some of the gear up and was ready to toss it, but stopped himself when he realized there was a gun and ammo case under it. He grinned and armed himself just as the other prisoners and their saviors boarded.

“Go!” Trapjaw ordered. He pushed the boat off, then grabbed on with his cybernetic arm. Others still outside the boat did the same, but the harsh waves tore them off screaming. Several prisoners were left on the beach, swearing and waving for them to come back.

“Well, that went better than expected,” Spikor said, flopping backwards. The little dinghy was dangerously overloaded but he didn't care. He was too tired. “I'm bushed. Wake me when I need to throw up,” he said as the boat tipped upwards then slammed down into a trough of another wave. “Or not,” he said in a strangled voice, making his way to the gunwale.

---<>))))

When they got to the boat, Trapjaw felt done in. But an unexpected helping hand helped him into the boat once it was cleared, then a blanket was thrown over his shivering shoulders and he was half hauled, half carried up the rope ladder to the trawler's deck.

“I dunno, I might have to throw this one back. You're really blue, Trajawl,” Jim drawled, stoking his pipe.

“Ah shut up,” the cyborg growled, sitting on a barrel. He looked at his savior and nodded. The guy had his red jump suit up unlike some of the others. He was smart. He was also broad shouldered and looked halfway between Arana and Jitsu in looks. “Thanks,” he muttered as the ship captain took himself off with a harrumph.

“Sharky,” the other man said with an outstretched hand. “Trajawl, is it?”

“Call me, Trapjaw,” the cyborg replied. “Now come on. We've got to get below and out of sight.”

“Definitely. And somewhere warm and out of the wet,” Jitsu said, hands in his armpits. “What happened to Blade?”

“He got carried away,” a familiar voice said. It was a ghost of its usual self as all eyes and ears turned to its maker. Spikor shrugged, one hand on his aching stomach. “Grenade blew the door in. Shock grenade went off by his head.”

“You're sure he's dead?”

“At that range? The blast wave liquefied his brains … what he had of them to begin with,” the engineer said, turning greenish. “Gods of space,” he muttered, heading to the gunwale.

“The lee side you damn lubber!” a deckhand swore. “You lubbers get below. Got stew to warm you up. Good biscuits too. Don't go tossing it up or you'll be swabbing the deck or worse,” he snarled, hauling on a net to get cargo shifted to move the ship's center of weight to keep her steady in the storm. Booms moved out on either side of the ship, dropping anchors to try to keep her keel even in the churning seas.

It was going to be a long, hard voyage home Trapjaw thought. This part they hadn't planned as thoroughly as he would have liked. He made a mental note to call the boss with the news as he went below with the others. It could wait until he got a change of clothes he thought, shivering uncontrollably.

---<>))))

“This is April O'Neill with Knox News on the scene where we have just heard reports of a brazen breakout attempt on the Horathian POW island.”

“This is Toni Chambers, Galactic News Network reporting. We have received word that a prison breach has been performed at the enlisted Horathian POW prison on Island 2 of the POW islands. The attack happened during a tropical storm hitting the area. It is unknown at this time if there have been casualties …”

“ …We don't know how many are injured or dead nor how many prisoners have escaped if any at all,” April reported. She could hear Toni's report playing in her ear as she spoke. It made it tricky to concentrate and not trip over her own lines. “At this time we do not want to induce a panic with the public as some of our competitors seem to be interested in doing for their own purposes,” she said. “We will present the facts when we get more information. For the moment the air space around the islands has been severely restricted, even more restricted than previously,” she said wryly, “as have the waters around the area. When we have more information, we will report it to you our viewers. We are waiting on a press conference from the military as well as from the government at any moment.

Chapter
41

“They won't get far, sir. We're tracking them. The storm is playing havoc with the signals, and I admit we had short range passive trackers on most of them. But one of them has a full listening and Wi-Fi package. We are assigning a security satellite to them now. Once they clear the storm we'll home in on them,” Commander Lake reported.

Admiral Irons nodded. “Good. I want this put to bed. I want the people who arranged this caught quickly. We need to find out what else they've been up to. Are they linked to the attack on Bismark?”

“Yes, sir, I know, considering their target of choice one has to wonder that. One of the attackers was killed in the breakout. NCIS is all over him now; forensics might turn up something useful like where he's been, who he is, and known associates. Nothing yet I'm afraid,” she reported. She looked down to her tablet, then up, more serious and somber. “We've lost five guards, and two were wounded,” Commander Lake reported. She didn't bother to mention the sixteen injured or dead prisoners left behind.

“They only had the one small ship. They bit off more than they can chew. We can hope they sink in the storm.”

“If we could be so lucky,” the admiral growled. “We can't count on that.”

“We have found two of the prisoners, sir,” Commander Lake reported, one hand to her ear to indicate she was getting an implant message. “They washed up on shore. Scratch that, three, we've gotten a sighting of another body and the tracking device has confirmed it. It's out to sea however. We need time for the storm to clear before we can get air cover in there.”

“Clever of them to count on that.”

“Yes, sir. It won't help them long.”

“It had better not,” the admiral growled. “We're going to need more than a hot wash on this. I want a full investigation. I know we can't keep it open for security reasons, so we'll have to limit what we do release. But we have to keep as much open as possible to keep people from panicking or losing faith in us. More faith than they already have,” he said sourly. “The important thing is to catch these bastards. It won't make up for the lives lost, but it will bring some closure. Then we need to learn from this and plug the holes.”

“Some literally, sir,” Lake said., When he eyed her coldly, she winced and ducked her head. “Sorry, sir.”

“Don't be sorry, just get it done.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

---<>))))

Since the prisoners had implanted trackers there was less concern about finding them as some in security initially expected. Their signals were weak and passive. Aircraft were sent out on search patterns to pick up their location.

Of course, Trapjaw wasn't going to make it easy to find them. He'd been tempted to execute the Horathians, load them up with stone blocks to weigh them down and then send them to Jim's so-called Davy Jones's locker. That way they'd disappear and the threat would throw the Feds into a tizzy. But he'd been overruled by the big boss.

Since he couldn't do it the easy way, he resolved to do it the right way.

Once they got out of the storm, a pair of private boats, one a sailing vessel, met up with them at a prearranged rendezvous. The group broken up into small units to go to separate safe houses in different cities.

As the aircraft and satellites scanned for the weak signals, another effort was put into place on the docks. Security and police personnel assigned to the dock were given trackers to alert them if one or more of the escapees showed up in the area. The moment they got within a kilometer of the transmitters, the implants warbled their location to sensitive receivers placed on the top of strategic buildings or towers.

A few of them were rounded up on the docks as they tried to blend in as fisherman, some of the prisoners and their helpers were spooked by the presence of the law enforcement officers waiting for them so they went back out to sea. A few tried to fight their way out in a case of suicide by cop. Unfortunately, they managed to take two police officers down when they did put up a fight.

Those that did get to the land by not going ashore in a dingy instead of the docks saw how much the planet had changed while they had been locked away. A few were shocked by the changes.

Sharky didn't have the time to play tourist; he was too busy doing his best to keep one step ahead of the law. Once he was on the ground, he went on the run, but his implanted trackers allowed the Federation and law enforcement officers to follow his every move. A satellite and dedicated task force was assigned to his signal.

He realized they were tracking him somehow. So did his beneficiaries when they scanned him and the other prisoners they still had their hands on. Instead of cutting him loose, Circie took him underground and then into a Faraday cage to cut off his signal.

Sharky watched warily as a doctor laid out a tray of cutting implements. “I'm not going to like this am I?” he demanded. The doctor looked more like a butcher with his blood stained apron than a medic. Even his mask had spots of blood on it. The man had an air of malevolence but patience that the Horathian loathed. He felt his hackles raise as Spikor scanned him.

“No. Here,” Trapjaw said, handing him a bottle of rotgut. “Finish it.”

“No anesthetic?”

“There you go,” the cyborg said. “Leave some behind, he'll need it as an antiseptic too,” he said as Spikor scanned the Horathian captain with a hand-held detection wand. “Got one in his arm.”

“Cut it off?” the doctor asked, looking up.

“Hell no!” Sharky growled. “Dig it out. Give me that,” he said, taking the scalpel and tucking it under one arm. He took the bottle of booze, took a large gulp, then another, then held out his arm.

“I can do it better,” the doctor said dubiously.

“Yeah well, I don't trust anyone these days,” Sharky said, holding the knife over his forearm where the engineer had marked it with a marker.

“But you trust me, right?” Circie cooed, hand on his shoulder as she breathed in his ear. He looked to her. She gently took the knife. “Let the professional do the job. It's what we pay him for,” she said, easing Sharky into a barber chair. She sat in his lap and fed him more of the booze, then kissed him. She looked long into his eyes as the medic took the bottle, dabbed some on a rag, then handed it back. He dabbed the rag on the marked area as he took the scalpel from the girl.

“This will hurt. Hold still if you want use of your arm,” the doctor said as he moved in.

---<>))))

“So Captain, you want to keep this Sharky in play a little while longer? Despite the terrorists finding most of the trackers embedded in his body?”

“Yes, sir. When we realized they were scanning for them, we shut his off remotely,” the intelligence officer stated.

“Then how do you plan to turn them back on if I may be so bold to ask,” Nara asked mildly.

“We put a timer into the shutdown sequence. It will reboot in forty hours.”

“If he is still alive.”

“I'm not comfortable with leaving him in play. I understand,” the admiral raised a forestalling hand. “That you want to trace the terrorists’ connections. I get that. I also know you want to get a hard map on their safe houses and caches, also okay. But I don't like the idea of leaving them where they can still do harm. If they begin to move on anything, I want to know about it. If it is a primary target, I want them taken down.
Hard
if necessary.
Before
they launch their mission,” the admiral growled.

Monty nodded once. He'd planned on nipping missions by catching one or two people off guard, maybe set it up like bad luck but that was out.

“We're going to need to take the public's mind off this,” Sprite said. “They have a right to be worried about it however. They are as much a target as we in the government and military are. And they can't shoot back,” she warned.

Monty grimaced.

“We've gotten word back from the
Sharp Eyes
division. They sent word back by freighter. It arrived this morning in the Syntia World's star system,” Turner reported, looking at his notes.

“
Sharp Eyes
as in the two LCs dispatched to Pi sector?” Nara asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the commander replied with a nod to her. He turned to look at the admiral. “They sent an encrypted SITREP back in the freighter
Molly
.”

The admiral frowned thoughtfully.
Molly
was the name of the daughter ship of
Io 11.
But they were supposed to be doing loops around … his frown deepened. Could it be a coincidence? He drummed his fingers and eyes the commander for more details.

The commander nodded at the good sign. “According to the ansible report,
Molly
and
Io 11
went into Pi sector to explore new trade routes. Her captain took her back to complete orders they had with established customers in this sector however,” Turner expanded.

“Ah,” the admiral said as all eyes turned to him. “But just
Molly
?
Not
Io 11
?”

Turner shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Okay. Continue.”

“We can lead with that I suppose, though it is giving away some intelligence,” Monty said.

“We have some intelligence for you too, sir,” Turner said. Monty raised an inquiring eyebrow. “The ansible can't transmit a lot, but they did let us know about a Horathian ship, the
Jolly Roger
.” That name made the intelligence captain sit up straight and intent. “She was in Charon chasing
Molly
when the
Sharp Eyes
division entered it. Their appearance made her break off and head back to the Pi sector. The two LCs gave chase. They transmitted their SITREP in passing to the freighter then jumped.”

“That's not their job, damn it,” the admiral muttered.

Turner frowned. “With all due respect, sir, it is. They saw an act of piracy in real time and acted on it. It is what we are supposed to do.”

“Hopefully, they didn't bite off more than they can chew,” Monty said. All eyes turned to him. “According to what we've learned,
Jolly Roger
is one of their famous warships. She is highly decorated with a lot of captures to her credit. She has a top notch crew.”

“Sir, there is a bit of a difference between catching a helpless civvy and tangling with a pair of Federation light cruisers,” Turner replied stiffly.

“I wouldn't count that captain out anytime soon,” Monty said.

“Well, if our ships get in ahead of them, they can wait and turn the tables,” Nara said, looking from the Ops officer to the head spook. But that again is too much intelligence and too iffy. What else do we have?”

“Well, let's see,” Sprite said, pretending to check her notes. “Well, the invasion of Destria has gotten off to a good start. We can announce that it is a hit and hype with the intention of leaving nothing left in orbit bigger than a bolt,” she said.

The admiral grimaced. “I'd rather announce success than leave them hanging. Especially if they too find more opposition than we bargained for,” the admiral said. “Next?”

“Well, that leaves the arrival of Convoy TA-111 with industrial minister pro temp Sandra'kall on board,” Sprite said. “They will be in the inner system tomorrow.”

“Not enough,” Turner said in disgust.

“Wait, what about
America
?” Nara asked.

“
America
? That's last week's news,” Sprite said dismissively.

“But I didn't see a mention of it. Centennial and the fate of the people there, plus the other colonies has been a big thing on everyone's minds,- right? So, we let them know
America
is there now, and that the pirates didn't invade or hit the planet,” she smiled triumphantly. “There, you have your bit of good news to get people talking.” She turned to Monty. “But the frosting on the cake would be nailing Skeletor once and for all. Trot his scared face out for one and all to see and put his threat to rest before he bombs other people.”

“We've been over that, Captain,” Monty replied.

“Yes but we keep conveniently forgetting the people who will get caught in the crossfire while we ignore him. One or two, you don't seem to give a shit about if he snatches someone and rapes them. He's got ties in the drug trade as well as the other highly illegal markets. People trafficking for one. You want it to be known that we let him or his goons snatch a kid off the street and brutally raped them? While we watched?”

“No,” Monty replied as the room became deathly still. “But I don't want to hit him and leave someone
else
to take his place or
worse
, hit him and
miss
,” he said, locking eyes with the doctor. “We need to know where all his hidey holes are. That way when he goes to ground we can route him out.”

“Don't wait too long, Captain. Remember what the admiral said about time and the plans surviving contact with the enemy,” she reminded him. “Don't wait hoping you'll get more until it's too late,” she said quietly.