Jethro: First to Fight (70 page)

“More like bowling sir, dropping big
rocks to see how many pins we can get,” Captain Maul, flag Captain of the
destroyer Cutlass replied. He'd thought at first being a flag Captain would do
his career wonders. Now he just regretted the whole thing and wished it would
be concluded. Hopefully it would soon, if the admiral took enough of an
interest, he might tire of being on the ship and transfer his flag to the
station as system governor. That would certainly be a relief.

“I don't care, just figure it out.”

“Well sir, as it happens, there are a
few in this dock they built. Someone's been busy mining. Convenient no? And we
could pack the dock up. Send it and the other dock down in a nice ball or in
pieces.”

“No, I think we may have a use for
both,” the admiral replied, rubbing his hands together. “We've got ourselves
our own El Dorado. The Emperor will be quiet pleased when he finds out about
it. High Command will be quite pleased with me indeed.” Visions of his being
made a lord were clouding his thoughts of here and now. Duke Cartwright? He
smiled at the thought.

“Yes sir,” the flag Captain said
neutrally. He was the one who had passed the idea of going to Antigua after
picking up the rumors on Protodon. Okay, so a member of his staff had passed it
on to him, but who cares? They were peons after all. He resented being passed
over himself though. The admiral was in a high enough rank, it would be nice to
share some of the spoils.

Admiral really. An admiral of what?
Three destroyers, Cutlass, Sirius, and Viper. There were of course a dozen
Frigates, another eighteen corvettes and thirty, no
twenty nine
gunships. Then of course there was the one converted factory ship the Ramona, nine
troop ships, ten freighters, their last remaining light yacht turned courier,
and their single megaton converted tanker. He eyed the beacons for the
automated gas mining platforms in the atmosphere of the gas giant. The Fat Sow
was a bit redundant right now. It wasn't much of a fleet, but they did have
quite a few ships. So maybe someone being in charge of them all and not also
busy managing and fighting their ship was important.

But why did he have to be saddled with
Cartwright? Sometimes he thought there was no justice in the universe.

“I'll be quite well rewarded for this.
Perhaps I'll even be selected as governor of this province? Who knows. But
first, we need to secure this system in an iron fist. Show them who's boss.
Liberate them from their ideals, show them the error of their ways.”

“Yes sir,” the Captain said, nodding
dutifully. He knew when to toe the party line after all. At least that much
they could agree upon. And after all, accidents did happen right? Space was a
dangerous place, filled with, oh, all sorts of dangerous things. People too,
and gases and poisons. The admiral may find himself never waking up some day,
and the flag Captain 'reluctantly' stepping in his shoes to fill the void in
the chain of command. He smiled at the thought.

...*...*...*...*...

“Major Zimmer, perhaps the stubborn
natives need an incentive to surrender. I want you to send in your forces to
the shipyard, drydock, and other manned stations in the area. When you have
them all, let me know and I will send navy crews over to take over the
hardware.”

“Aye aye sir,” Major Zimmer said,
saluting the admiral's image. “For the honor of Emperor Ramichov we'll get it
done sir.”

“See that you do,” the admiral said
simply. “Good hunting, out.”

Major Zimmer turned to his staff as the
admiral signed off. “You heard the admiral, we have a job to do. Maximum shock
effect, minimum damage to property. After all, we want it
all,
” he said,
grinning. They knew that each would get a share of the prize money involved.
With the station and a shipyard, it was liable to be a hefty chunk of change.
Throw in the three ships in the dry docks, and it would really be a prize. They
didn't know why there were two drydocks, they didn't care. The larger one, the
one with all the rectangular modules was obviously a shipyard. It was a great
prize.

“Yes sir,” a Captain replied, grinning
evilly. “Resistance?”

“Most likely none, but be careful
anyway. Don't get overconfident.”

“I doubt they have weapons, after all,
the yard isn't an armory.”

“We don't know that,” the Major
stressed, staring hard at his officers. Many gulped. “Get in, secure the
facility, keep your people on a short leash. When the station's secure, then
eject the unwanted scum. Then we can... have fun.”

There were cheers at that news. They had
been cooped up in the ships for months, the men had little to do. Now was the
time for action.

Zimmer frowned. This would be the real
test. The first combat tests of the new equipment, the Gauss coil rifles and
the other crew service weapons. Each squad had a mix of weapons, four Gauss
rifles, two of the older gunpowder rifles or shot guns, one crew service heavy
weapon, and a mix of recovered Federation hand weapons that had been rebuilt.
The veterans had the newer or reliable weapons. Green units had the older
weapons or anything they could find. Some of his soldiers had one firearm and a
knife, sword, or machete as a secondary weapon.

The Gauss rifles were a concern, their
coils tended to overheat and explode if they weren't properly handled and kept
cool. It had something to do with the discharge circuits and how much they were
used. He'd have any noncoms balls if that happened. Still, each could fire
single shot twelve gram steel rounds down range, or fire them full auto. The
steel rounds were dirt cheap, they had spiral groves to spin stabilize them,
but again, he'd have anyone's ass who went full auto for no reason.

A third of his men had powered combat
armor as well. Exo armor, not quite within shouting distance of the last
generation Federation armor, but more than a match for anything the stationers
had.

Shuttles of many different classes,
makes and models flung themselves from their mother ships and at their targets.
“Aren't we going to destroy the solar farms?”

“Why bother? From what I heard, we're
keeping the real estate,” Sergeant Nast replied. He looked over his men. They
were ready. “We're keeping this place. The admiral will send some troops back
to take Protodon since it's our gateway here, but this moves up the timetable a
lot. Keep your head out of your ass and keep your dick in your pants until I
tell you otherwise. That goes double for you Pencil dick,” he snarled, poking a
Private in the shoulder. “You get any ideas of a 'premature' event and I'll cut
the damn thing off. Got it?”

“Yes Sergeant!”

“Good.”

“Sir, ships, tugs and shuttles are
scattering across the system! The roaches are running!” the pilot said over the
intercom.

“Darn,” one Private said.

“Let them run. They have to come out
eventually, they have to breathe after all. Then we'll squish them.”

“Besides, we'll get what's left in the
stations. The yard didn't evacuate much, a couple tugs out of the main bay.
That's it.”

“That's fine, just fine. The more for us
to play with,” the Sergeant growled. “Right boys?”

The compartment echoed with nasty
laughter.

...*...*...*...*...

Regina remained at her post, treating
wounded as they came in. But she heard the firing, and a part of her wanted to
run, wanted to hide. She could hear the gloating laugh, it wouldn't be good.
She winced when it came from the infirmary doorway.

“So what do we have here?” a nasty,
almost mechanical voice said.

“The infirmary,” another pirate said,
tapping the Red cross and the word spelled out underneath. “See?”

“I can read,” the other snarled, shoving
his partner aside. He casually came in, looked around, then shot a wounded
Veraxin in the head. “That's what we call, an attention getter,” he said when
the screams and moans quieted.

“Get the other scum out.”

“Yes sir,” the second pirate said,
passing him and then yanking on arms to pull the aliens and Neo's in the room
out. They shuffled out, eyes vacant and lost. Soon only the human staff and
three wounded humans were left.

“You know, we've got some women in our
ranks, but not many. You'll do. Even though your boobs sag and you've got the
face of a warthog,” the first pirate said.

“Really, this coming from a pissant with
a gun? You're real brave with that gun,” Regina said defiantly. She knew she
should be quiet, keep her head down and just focus on survival, but they made
her so mad! There was no need for... her thoughts cut off as she heard
stuttering fire, then an airlock flush. She closed her eyes tightly.

“Spunk, oooh I like spunk,” the first
said mockingly.

The second pirate came back in. “All
flushed,” he said, hefting his weapon, a long rectangular block of a Gauss
rifle. Regina couldn't take her eyes off the thing. There was a shuffle, more
pirates came in behind the first two.

“Good. Got the zip ties?”

“Yeah, but there are restraints over
there,” the second said, indicating the stirrups on the exam table.

“Yeah, but I want to do em from all
angles.”

“Shit, okay.”

“This time use the bag. I know you like
seeing their eyes but I don't.”

“Just as long as you let them breathe,
it's no fun when the suffocate too fast,” the second said as Regina's eyes went
wide. She felt an icy chill and then a warm wet feeling between her legs as her
bladder let go. She had never been so scared in her life.

“We'll see. Depends on how tight she is
and how much fight she puts up,” the first said. He took a cigar out, lit it,
and then puffed on it as his partner and another pirate started restraining the
wounded and other staff. “Lady, you and me are going to have some fun,” he
said, grinning evilly as his cold eyes glittered.

Regina shivered uncontrollably as the
arms reached for her.

...*...*...*...*...

For days the station shields get
hammered. Prim was constantly bombarded by demands to surrender along with the
grasers from the ships. The Cybers, Taurens, and other engineers did their best
to cut power demand and reinforce the shields, but they knew it was only a
matter of time before something broke or they ran out of fuel. Already banks of
radiators were overheating. Attempting to collect the excess heat and convert
it into electricity were met with mixed results, no engineering system was
perfect after all, there was always waste.

“What do they want? If they'd only tell
us!” D'red said, shaking his virtual head.

“Us. They want us. They want in, that's
why they keep knocking and demanding we surrender,” Rasha Warner said.

“And when they do, they will come in
with their guns and kill. They will rape, they will kill. They're pirates, it's
what they do. Loot, plunder, rape, pillage, and burn. Mark my words. We must
endure,” Ron Steward said. His neobear body shimmered as his eyes flashed. His
wife Rachael nodded in support. “Whatever we do, we must not give in and let
them in. It will be hell all over again if we do.”

“Look what they've already done to the
yard and other stations,” Rasha spat. They'd witnessed the pirates take the
habitation modules of the Yard Dog shipyard. The crew on board had left a
whisker laser open and they had witnessed the indiscriminate violence inside.
Every non human had been executed on the spot, no quarter given. The female
humans had been brutally bound and raped. The men had been forced to watch. In
some cases they had either been forced to participate, or had been bound and
raped themselves. Any who put up a fight had been tortured and then executed.

“No, we can't. We just can't give up,”
Clio said softly. The AI was shaken, she'd had a lot of organic friends in the
Yard Dogs, since she had been a shareholder in the company. Now many were dead,
the survivors were brutalized.

“We're going to have to do something,
come up with a contingency plan now and put it into action. Eventually they
will find a way in. It's inevitable. So we need to work on a method of hiding
us so we can stay alive to keep the station's computer net functional, as well
as hide as many non humans on the station as we can,” Yan Fu said.

“And find a way to fight back. A
guerrilla war,” Taylor Warner said. His wife nodded. “This is our home, our
people. We can't just sit back and watch them die. We have a responsibility to
them to lead them, to shelter and protect them. We have to defend ourselves,”
he said, looking around the virtual meeting. Others nodded in grim agreement.

En-route to Antigua Purple Thorn analyzed
the data they had and plugged it into a series of sims. She wrote a series of
scripts with Firefly. The AI changed a few of the parameters and mixed them up
so the tactical officer would also be caught off guard when as the sim played
out. When they were ready they ran the sims past the Captain and crew in order
to train and to think of a plan of attack.

The sims went over well, they were
something positive to do, something to contribute to what was coming. A way to
focus their excess energy constructively. They were hard, and in several they
were beat, sobering the crew. Suddenly the tactical officer was very much aware
of the sim's possible impact on morale.

The sims went rather well in some cases,
but she and Commander Logan spotted a general trend that the other officers
tended to overlook. The long view, as the Commander called it.

Enthusiasm for the coming battle was
mixed with the officers as they sat around to discuss the situation after the
first series of sims concluded.

“The problem is we don't know what they
have. Ship classes? We're thinking the largest warship is a destroyer, but
there were some civilian drives that were cruiser strength.”

“True.”

“Skipper, we can't go in with a frontal
attack. Sneaky may be our only option. We'll be outnumbered and possibly
outgunned. Certainly outnumbered.”

“By what? Frigates and corvettes?”
Mayweather asked, resting her head on her hand and tapping her index finger
against her temple. “They are targets.”

“We may be up to one hundred percent
Captain, but even a full gene engineered super bison can be taken down by a
determined pack of wolves Captain,” Firefly cautioned. “And it isn't just the
small escort ships we have to worry about. There are two, possibly as many as
three
tin cans as well. That's a lot of tin to go up against, they're three mastiffs
to our one lion. If any one of them gets a piece of us, we'll be in trouble.”

“And if they come at us concentrated
we'll be screwed Captain,” Purple Thorn said stiffly, turning her goat like
eyes onto her Captain. “If they hammer us hard enough, from enough firing
angles we'll lose our shields. A hard enough hit to our drive and we won't be
able to maneuver.”

“Lamed.”

“Right. They could sit back and throw
missiles or rocks at us at near C until we're too chewed up to fight back.”

“But the last scenario...”

“Was just that, a sim. We based it on
what we know about pirates. What the Horathian's had in Pyrax. I think Firefly
tweaked their abilities upward a bit though,” the tactical officer accused,
turning her eyes to the AI avatar.

“I thought twenty percent was a good
number. You never want to train against an easy opponent Lieutenant.”

“I gathered that.”

“The problem is we don't know. We don't
know which system we'll encounter them... if we encounter them. We could sail
past them without knowing,” Shelby said.

“True.”

“That last sim, we won. What was wrong
with it?” the Captain asked.

The tactical officer opened her mouth
and spread her hands but before she could respond the exec put a hand out on
the table. All eyes turned to her. “Captain. Yes we did win. But there is
winning in the short term, and then the long term. We won, but at what cost?”
she asked. She touched her tablet, pulled up the data she wanted and then
pressed send. The holo table changed to an image of Firefly. “We won, but here
is an estimate of our battle damage. Drive down to half, hyperdrive shot,
shields on the starboard side gone, half our weapons, sensors... We would be
lamed.”

“Indeed.”

“About twenty percent casualties, maybe
more with all the Marines if we don't find a way to get them off before the
fighting starts. Now, lamed ship, iffy hyperdrive, and we are far from home. If
the pirates take out the station...”

“We'd be stuck in Antigua. Or where ever
the battle takes place. Triang... Adrift someplace...”

They could feel the icy chill as the
officers contemplated that problem. No one liked the implications for their own
survival let alone the long term survival of their home system.

The Captain held up a hand. “I see. So,
we need to find a way to maximize our advantages.”

“Yes. We have a single squadron of
fighters on board, plus all those drop ships. We've got 90 percent of our
ammunition allotment, 120 percent of our stores... and a platoon of mixed
Marines. We had always planned on using the Marines to retake the station. I'm
assuming you have another idea Captain? Perhaps a boarding action or two?” the
AI asked. “You do realize during a battle that is tantamount to suicide for the
Marines and then drop ship crews?”

The Captain grunted, turning away and
rubbing her chin. She paced, thinking. “We need contingency plans. You are
right. Two sets at least, one dealing with a battle in a system other than
Antigua, and another in Antigua. And sets for each.”

“What parameters?”

“Everything. We've got the time, think
it through. If we get to Antigua first, fight defense. Will fighting on the
jump point be our best option? Assume only our own resources.”

“I see.”

“Can we spoof them?” Shelby asked.

“ECM?”

“Yes and no,” she replied thoughtfully.
“Say they're there first... can we oh, use our ECM to draw them out? A nice
juicy freighter to chase?”

Slowly the Captain smiled. “I like it.
Disperse them, then pounce. Divide and conquer.”

“Defeat in detail,” Purple Thorn
murmured thoughtfully, eyes shifting as she turned the concept over in her
small head. “It will need careful handling, the drive, our energy signature...”
She tapped her small fingers. “Pick off a few of the ships will draw attention
to us... they'd reform...”

“And how we can get the fighters in on
the action too,” Shelby replied with a feral smile.

“See? There is always a solution to a
problem. If we can't take them on as a group, one on one or hell, even three on
one. Think of it. Look into things we might be able to use in the system too.
Remember some of the tricks we played with asteroids?”

“Oh this is going to be interesting,”
Shelby murmured as the officers picked up renewed enthusiasm.

...*...*...*...*...

“Do we have anything on the specs of
that station? Prime is it?” Shelby asked, sounding concerned.

“Something on your mind number one?” the
Captain asked. She crossed her arms.

“Yeah, I think the station will be the
primary target of the pirates, it's the real prize after all.”

“True,” the Captain replied with a nod.

“So, my question is, we know the
leadership is pacifistic, but would they surrender right off?”

“Course they will,” the Captain said,
sniffing.

“Or... not. They could try to hold out
if they knew what was coming.”

“What do you mean? They have no idea
we're riding on our white horse to the rescue,” Firefly replied.

“You being the white horse?” Shelby
teased.

“Whatever.”

“I'm not just thinking of that. If they try
to hold them off, how long can they do so? And if they don't and we come in and
they are on the station and on the ground... will we have to pop the shield to
get our people in?”

“Ah. Now I see where you're going. Good
questions Commander,” Firefly replied thoughtfully.

“I thought so. I actually don't like
them, but someone's got to think it over.”

“I see. I wonder if 'Major' Pendeckle
and or tactical teams have thought about any of this?”

“I don't know. I think they are spinning
themselves into a tizzy thinking of other things. Should we add this to their
plate?”

“Why not?” the Captain asked. She
shrugged. “It'll give them something else to think of.”

“You're all heart Captain,” Shelby
replied.

“Just keeping the worriers busy.”

“True. So, the planet has the defense
net. Planetary defense installations. That is if the pirates don't bomb them
from on high. I seriously don't like the idea of them taking them intact
somehow.”

“Always a nasty thought. And you accuse
me of being mean! Now I've got that stuck in my head!” The Captain said.

“Sorry skipper. If you think it's hard
on you, think of what that idea will do to the shuttle pilots and 'Major'
Pendeckle and the Marines.”

“Yeah, I think maybe we'll file this
under contingency ideas.”

“Right, no need to alarm them after all.
But the station has it's ass swinging in the wind.”

Firefly's avatar shrugged. “There is an
old saying in hostage rescue. It sucks to be the hostage.”

The Captain frowned ferociously. “Yeah
well, something tells me we need to do something about that. Ideas people?”

“We can't dump shuttles in the battle
Captain. Lowering the shields would be suicide,” Firefly stated. “And we won't
really know who owns what real estate until we get there.”

“What about before?” the Captain asked,
ignoring the last statement.

“They'd be targets for any frigate or
gunship.”

Shelby winced. “Ouch.”

“They don't have the stealth of the
fighters or Firefly Captain,” Firefly replied patiently.

“Maybe... maybe we can use that,” she
said thoughtfully. She looked at the clock. They had twelve days left before
break out and arrival.

“Hold on,” Mayweather murmured, staring
at the bulkhead. “Just hold out. The cavalry’s coming,” she said under her
breath.

...*...*...*...*...

After three days of continuous bombardment
the station shields fluttered when the energy weapons of the three destroyers
were concentrated on one point on one quadrant. Then the pirates hit the
shields from range with a grav lance, a force emitter mounted to an expendable
rocket. The emitter's distortion tore a hole in the shield and threw the
shields into safe mode.

Suddenly they were hideously vulnerable.

“Finally,” Admiral Cartwright said,
gloating over the shield's failure. “She's got her legs spread and waiting for
us. Send Major Zimmer in to ream her good.”

Captain Maul made a face but nodded.
“Aye aye sir.”

“Let's just make sure they can't raise
those damn things again. All ships, target the shield nodes and communications
arrays only. Then let's get some mad out. Fire.”

...*...*...*...*...

Before the stationers could recover the
pirates popped the shield emitters like zits, then moved in with shuttles. They
tried to form a single beachhead in the beta one sector, seizing the outer
docking rings in that sector.

“Cute,” Major Zimmer, the ground force
Commander snarled when he heard reports about the stationers welding doors shut
and evacuating the air in that sector. “Don't they know when to quit?” he
demanded.

“Apparently not sir,” Sergeant Nast
replied. He wasn't looking forward to this, by their best estimates there were
thousands of people on the station. Tens of thousands, possibly as high as a
hundred thousand. And unlike the yard, these people could be armed. Hell, most
likely they were armed. Armed and they knew what they were up against now. They
would be fighting desperately for their lives now that they knew what was
coming for them and their families.

“Well they damn well better. Soon.”

Zimmer ordered more shuttles to hit
other locations, dividing his forces but also forcing the stationers to divide
their efforts.

...*...*...*...*...

Private Wallus saw the flirty look of an
incredibly beautiful looking woman in skimpy lingerie and stopped, stunned by
her sultry good looks. She giggled girlishly and then posed. He licked his
lips, aware he was making a fool out of himself. She was leaning against the
bulkhead. She traced her fingers along the bulkhead and then entered an open
hatch. She turned and blew him a kiss, then her long lithe legs daintily
stepped over the knee knocker and she was gone.

He sniffed, but the smells of the
station must have covered her scent. Still memory stood in for the lack of a
scent, he imagined lavender or jasmine. He smiled and followed. “Ollie ollie in
free,” He called at the hatch door, then stepped in. It was dark in the
compartment. It was a store room, filled with racks of goods. He saw her body
flash between the stacks. He ducked, grinning at the chase.

He never noticed the massive simian
hands drop down to grab his head and snap his neck like a twig.

Savo gave the girl an upside down grin
and thumbs up. She snorted, now all cold and doll like. “Think we can get
another this way?” he asked.

“I doubt it,” the girl replied, then her
holo wavered. “That's three. I think they might be getting wise to it. But we
can try.”