Redoubtable (24 page)

“Maybe they don’t have any,” Commander Fervenspiel said from where he now sat among a sea of Greenfeld green and black.

Kris glanced around the room, taking the measure of body language. Among the Greenfelds, there was optimism that they’d found another cheap conquest. Among the Royal United Sentient sailors and Marines, there was a lot less enthusiasm.

Kris decided to take the bull by the horns.

“Admiral Krätz, I understand from Commander Fervenspiel that standard Greenfeld doctrine, in a situation like this, would be to get all four battleships boosting for Dry Tortugas at 1.5 gees and arrive with all guns blazing, dropping a strong Marine and landing force to ask a few questions, then write the after-action report pretty much the way you’d drafted it beforehand. Did I get anything wrong, there?”

“I might modify the after-action report a bit if it really didn’t reflect certain critical aspects that came up in the actual fight,” the admiral admitted.

“Like my brother getting himself killed very much not according to plan,” Vicky added with venom.

“That would cause a major revision,” the admiral agreed.

“I’m concerned with that approach,” Kris said.

“Anything specific,” Vicky asked, “or do you Longknifes just like to make a hash of Greenfeld doctrine on general principle?”

That question left Kris wondering if she was creating more than she bargained for by having this combined preaction briefing. Throwing caution to the winds, Kris opened the can of worms that disturbed her the most.

“Many years ago, I did a little reading up on slavery in early Earth history. I found something that really turned my stomach. It seems that several countries outlawed slavery or outlawed the importation of slaves ahead of others. What that meant was that British warships were prowling the waters off Africa looking for contraband while there was quite a bit of profit to be made by anyone who slipped a load of slaves across the Atlantic and sold them.”

“So,” said the admiral.

“The British viewed slavers as no better than pirates and were wont to hang them.”

“That would make it rather unpleasant to be caught with a cargo of slaves,” Abby said.

“I know this is going somewhere, but I can’t see it,” Vicky snapped.

“The slaves were kept chained belowdecks,” Kris went on. “After all, you couldn’t let the slaves run around, they might take over the ship.”

The admiral raised an eyebrow in agreement to that.

“So,” Kris went on, “if a British patrol ship gave chase to the slaver, it was rather easy to attach the slaves’ chains to an anchor, and toss the anchor overboard. A bit of noise, a bit of screaming, but in a few minutes, there was no evidence left aboard that the ship had ever carried slaves.”

That left the room silent, both the Imperial and Royal sides.

Vicky swallowed hard. “You want to paint a clear picture for those of us without your imagination.”

“It will take the
Fury
and its squadron at least twelve hours to blast in from the jump point to the station. We can assume you’ll need some time to pacify it and start jumping your Marines into the town.”

“Port Royal,” Commander Campbell provided. “They’re calling that Port Royal.”

“At least they got that right,” Nelly sniffed.

Kris went on, her voice low and deadly. “During that time, I’m figuring the slavers are dividing their holdings into two groups: those they can terrify into silence and those they can’t.”

“And those they can’t?” the admiral asked.

“They line up in rows and shoot. They do that in full view of the others. They make it clear that Greenfeld’s sailors and Marines will be here for a while. Then they will leave. The slavers, however, will be there long after you guys are called off to other duties.”

“And the slavers?” Vicky asked.

“No society is ever totally slave. There are the owners, the technicians, doctors, businesspeople. Oh, and the overseers and enforcers. Given twelve to fifteen hours, Abby here could generate papers to make even the worst of crooks look as perfectly documented as innocent newborns. Right, Abby?”

“You want the Magna Carta, I’ll give you the Magna Carta. You want record books that show that every person on your farm has been paid every month, twice a month, for the last ten years.” Abby chuckled evilly. “That’s even easier. Don’t need no lead seals for them.”

“One more thing I’d like to point out,” said Abby. “They’ll be shooting the potential troublemakers to scare the living bejesus out of the rest. Which category do you think my darling niece will fit into? Kris, can you even conceive of my flesh and blood not being a pain in the ass of any piece of pirate shit?”

That left the room very quiet.

“So,” the admiral finally said, “I take it that you have an idea of how we might take down the pirates without giving them any time to cut throats and clean house.”

“I think I do, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, I think I do,” Kris said.

32

Four
days later, the
Wasp
docilely followed the
Bucket of Blood
as it made its final approach to High Dry Tortugas. The
Dauntless
followed along in her wake. Officially, the
Bucket
was leading in the captured merchant ships
Mary Ellen Carter
and
Pink Lucky Seven
. Those were the names of the ships Kris’s corvettes were squawking, and those were the captures that the skipper of the
Bucket
was bragging about.

With as many guns aimed at his head as could be arranged.

Kris was not surprised that the pirate captain was reading his lines with gusto. Colonel Cortez and Jack Campbell were both on the
Bucket
, along with Penny.

Kris had Captain Jack the Marine and Abby with her on the
Wasp
. All three ships now held a company of Royal Marines and near to a battalion of Imperial ones. Campbell commanded the
Bucket
, leaving Amber command of the
Dauntless
.

Admiral Krätz had agreed to let the ship’s captain be in tactical command, under Kris. This despite the fact the Imperial Marine battalions were commanded by lieutenant colonels who outranked the Royal Navy skipper. In Kris’s own case, she had Commander Fervenspiel back aboard the
Wasp
.

To say the chain of command looped off in all directions was to put it far too simply.

Still, one admiral and one princess easily agreed on what they wanted. A certain grand duchess didn’t get what she wanted. Presently, she waited for things to start happening while fuming beside her admiral on the
Fury
on the other side of the jump.

From the
Bucket
’s records, they’d found out the time of day on High Dry Tortugas and had delayed their entry into the system so that they docked just about 2200 hours local time. As expected, there were no port officials interested in doing the usual tax, customs, and disease control at that late hour.

Kris had hoped the pirates were as lackadaisical about those things as they were about most other work.

From the evidence, they certainly were.

There still were a pair of pirate schooners and the freighter of many names tied up at the station’s piers. People from their crews carried on a running conversation with the
Bucket
’s skipper during the approach. Apparently, no ship had yet taken two ships in one cruise. None of the three ships dockside had ever succeeded in capturing a single merchant ship. Curious, they wanted to know how he’d done it.

The captured pirate skipper was only too happy to boast of his prowess at scaring the crew of the
Pink Lucky Seven
into terrified and abject surrender.

He just never got to the part where sleepy darts started sprouting in pirate rumps.

Then he told basically the same story again for the
Mary Ellen Carter
. The pirates couldn’t get enough of the part where the woman crew members started screaming and running up and down in panic.

To Kris’s relief, Lieutenant Amber Kitano kept her opinion to herself as she went about her duties commanding the
Dauntless
. It must not have been easy.

It sure wasn’t easy for Kris to listen to, and she hadn’t had anything to do with the actual takedown.

Once docked, the
Wasp
and
Dauntless
were ordered to stay locked down, preserving everything for tomorrow’s visit by the customs people. Even pirates wanted to assure that The Man got his proper cut. Still, that didn’t keep the “captured ships” from connecting to the piers for air, water, sewage, and comm lines.

Comm lines was where the trouble started.

“Commander, I got something interesting,” Chief Beni said.

“How interesting?” Kris said.

“A lot more than I want. The landline traffic is spiking. Spiking way high. I can’t read it, but traffic between the three pirate ships is going fast and heavy.”

“Anything to the
Bucket
?”

“Some, but not much. What there is of it is all in the clear and has to do with docking. Who’s paying. When. The usual stuff.”

“But the other pirates seem to have developed a bad case of the yaks. Any idea what they’re saying?” Kris asked

“I don’t know what to make of it, ma’am. It’s all in cipher. But whatever it is, they don’t want anyone who didn’t get the daily cipher drop to know what they’re talking about.”

“Why do I not like that?” Kris said. She didn’t wait for an answer. “Nelly, send a commlink of our own to the other two ships. Let’s see what they think about this sudden talkativeness among the pirates.”

“I already had two spiders spinning cable between our ships, Kris.”

On the outer hull of the
Wasp
, a tiny portion of Smart Metal™ organized itself into a commlink and boosted away from the
Wasp
. There were two of them, each leaving a tiny filament of wire behind them. A few minutes later they attached themselves to the commlink at the outer air locks of the other two ships. A fraction of a second later, the bridge crew on the
Bucket
and the
Dauntless
listened as Kris reviewed what she knew . . . and all that she didn’t.

“Commander Campbell, did High Dry Tortuga update you on the cipher for today?”

“Golly, Princess, I guess it must have slipped their minds, it being all late and that,” he answered lightly. Then he got deadly serious. “This is not the way you greet your fellow prodigal sons. I don’t like this.”

“Me neither,” his XO observed from the
Dauntless
.

“Me three-ther,” Kris added.

Around about midnight, it all became perfectly clear.

33

Lieutenant
Commander Kris Longknife chose 0200 hours as about the right time to take down the pirate space station. It was an ungodly hour, and anyone not under military discipline would in all likelihood be sound asleep.

From the number of people swaying in and out of the local grog shops, more likely they’d just be dead drunk.

But Kris had to work to get even that little bit of information.

She had Chief Beni and Nelly launch several nanoscouts from the
Wasp
to take a good look around the station.

None survived more than seven minutes.

That told Kris a lot more than she wanted to know. Whoever was running this place was even more paranoid than the average Longknife. They also had more high tech than anyone of their low morals and criminal inclinations should have. Certainly more than Admiral Krätz. Did these folks have the ability to jam the local net?

Interesting question that. Which for now remained unanswered.

“Shall we launch some more nanos?” Nelly asked, even as Chief Beni was opening his mouth to likely say the same thing.

“No,” Kris said with a shake of the head. “We don’t want to start a fight just yet, and I’m not sure that we’d win one with these nanos. Only a fool starts a fight they aren’t sure they can win.”

But that didn’t mean that Kris was content to be blind. She resorted to slower methods, sending spider crawlers out along the station power cables the
Wasp
was now hooked into. The reports would come back via those power lines, and when the spiders went active, they would be beside light fixtures. Whatever power usage the spider spy made would be impossible, hopefully, for the local folks’ countermeasures to notice.

It seemed to work.

Kris got some very good looks from the light fixtures at the top of the pier. Of course, all it showed was inebriated pirates making their way to and from different pubs or their ships.

Other than that, the stations seemed about as inactive as you could get . . . and still have air, water, and lights.

“Wonder if those autoguns are switched on, or if anyone is looking at their sensor take?” Jack asked as he looked over Kris’s shoulder at the feed Chief Beni was getting.

“I was wondering about that myself,” Kris said.

There were a whole lot more automatic machine guns sited around the station than Kris wanted her Marines facing. Jack passed The Word to the Marines’ heavy weapons teams to be ready to take down a lot of machine guns—fast.

Plans for the seizure of the station moved along quickly and smoothly after that.

Then . . . at exactly midnight . . . all Kris’s planning became irrelevant.

It seemed the pirates had other plans.

34

Kris
was feeling pretty good as the
Wasp
’s clock struck eight bells for midnight. Chief Beni had sent a swarm of spider bugs out, inching their way along the power cables to nest in more light fixtures. Now she had one at each of her two prime targets. . . the command center of the station and the reactor.

Each showed four or five people standing their watch by playing cards.

In the process of locating those, Kris had also situated cameras so they could watch the piers where the three pirate ships were tied up.

She thought that was a good idea.

It turned out to be a very good idea.

Right around midnight, those cameras started showing a whole lot of irregular troops flooding out of the three ships. Most were armed with what they called cutlasses, which looked more like rough-forged machetes to Kris. Some of the few that might qualify as officers had pistols. Others wore black pants or shirts, leftovers from recently ended careers in Greenfeld State Security. Inevitably, those carried machine pistols.

“Oh my,” said Chief Beni.

“If I didn’t know better,” Kris said, “I’d say there is no honor among these thieves.”

“It does kind of look like they’re very intent on hacking out for themselves a share of the sudden wealth that’s come the way of the
Bucket of Blood
,” Colonel Cortez observed on net.

“I’m getting a sudden lack of electronic activity on the main deck of the station,” Chief Beni announced. “I think someone turned off the cameras and the autoguns.”

“It would be embarrassing to shoot up your new best friends while they were busy stealing from your former best friends,” Jack Campbell remarked from the
Blood
.

“And who would want to leave photo evidence for the boss to look at tomorrow of who stole what,” Penny said.

“Which may make it a whole lot easier for us to take the station down,” Jack Montoya added. “Assuming we can avoid getting our throats cut in the meantime.”

“Looks like we’ll be the first boat boarded,” Kris said, noting that the
Wasp
’s pier was closer to the flow of flashing and sharp metal. “Anyone have a suggestion as to how we handle this.”

“Ah,” came slowly from Campbell. “They were all laughing their fool heads off at the story of the
Blood
’s pirates chasing my panic party.”

“Do you think these could be distracted just as easily?” Kris asked.

“What do you say we try them?” came from Abby, coming on the
Wasp
’s bridge with an armful of calico and two standard Navy mops. “Penny, you want to do some panicking with Kris?”

“
I’m
sure not going to run around like some empty-headed female,” Sulwan announced.

“What about you, Abby?” Kris countered.

“You don’t pay me enough. Remember, it’s the Longknife legend that everyone is always talking about. Looks like it’s time for you to add a couple of more paragraphs.” So saying, Abby tossed Kris a simple cotton dress. Then she tossed another to Penny.

“Hold it,” Kris said, shaking out the latest in captive-crew fashions. “I never heard anything about Grampa Ray or Trouble saving the world in a dress.”

“I’m sure he paid well to have those particulars skipped by the writers of history books,” Abby drawled.

Penny slipped the dress on over her head, then modestly shimmied out of her shipsuit. “Hurry up, Princess. I’m not doing this alone,” the Navy lieutenant said.

“Whoever heard of a Longknife panicking,” Kris cried plaintively, but she was pulling the colorful dress over her head.

“The idea of a panic party is not to panic, just make the uninitiated observers think you are,” Jack said from the safety of his full Marine battle armor. He’d donned it an hour ago in preparation for the coming festivities.

Abby handed the two Navy officers their mops. “Go swab the deck, gals. Oh, and ditch the shoes. You’ll get better traction.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Penny shot back.

“You’ll never know how much,” Abby admitted.

Kris and Penny headed for the quarterdeck, Jack right behind them. “I’ve got your back,” he said.

“You better,” Kris growled.

Sergeant Bruce was leading the guard at the gangway. “It looks like we got company coming. What are your orders, sir?” he asked his captain.

“Back off and leave it to the ladies,” Jack said.

The sergeant frowned at the unexpected if not unheard-of command.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Abby put in, “I’m not one of the delectables we’ll be dangling in front of the pirates.” The maid, who was also a qualified sharpshooter, had her automatic out.

“Stay worried, Sergeant,” Kris said. “Penny and I will be the ones playing decoy.”

“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say,” the poleaxed Marine said.

“Be careful, honey, or the princess will have you trading dresses with her,” Abby said, patting her Marine buddy on the shoulder.

The sergeant braced against the bulkhead to let Kris pass.

“Hurry up,” Nelly whispered. “The boarding party is getting mighty close.”

Someone had thoughtfully arranged for there to be a bucket of suds in the middle of the quarterdeck. Kris dunked her mop in and pulled it out dripping. In a second, she was sloshing soapy water this way and that.

“Be careful,” Penny said.

“Right. We wouldn’t want folks to be slipping and sliding, would we?” Kris said, through the first grin of the day.

“On second thought,” Penny said, and dunked her mop again.

Water and suds flew.

THE PIRATES ARE ON THE PIER STAIRS. BEND OVER MORE, Nelly said on net.

BEND OVER MORE? Kris asked.

YEAH, GIVE THE BOYS HALF A CHANCE, AND ALL THEY’LL BE LOOKING AT IS UP YOUR DRESS.

THERE’S NO THERE THERE, Kris pointed out.

BUT THEY DON’T KNOW IT. TRUST ME, MEN WILL ALWAYS BE HOPING FOR A GIRL TO SLIP.

Kris could almost hear the chuckling on command net as she and her computer debated her sexual wiles. HOW DID YOU SUDDENLY GET SO SMART ABOUT WHAT MEN LIKE IN THEIR WOMEN?

I READ A LOT, Nelly shot back.

Kris bent farther over her mop.

Nelly showed Kris a view of the pirates on the stairs. Yep, sure enough, a couple of the guys had spotted the two women swabbing the deck and were pointing them out to their associates. From the leers and ugly grins, Kris knew the two Navy officers were not being discussed in anything like a wholesome and proper manner.

ENJOY YOUR FUN, BOYS. I’LL BE LAUGHING LAST, Kris said on net.

HOW LONG ARE WE GOING TO KEEP THIS UP? Penny asked.

JACK, YOU GOT YOUR MARINES WELL HIDDEN?

YES, KRIS, WE’RE OUT OF SIGHT.

LET’S KEEP WORKING IT, PENNY. I’D PREFER FOR THEM TO START THE SHOUTING FIRST.

NICE, KRIS, BUT DID THEY GET THE SCRIPT? FROM THE LOOKS OF THEM, I’M NOT SURE THEY COULD READ A SCRIPT IF THEY HAD ONE.

WAIT FOR IT, Kris said.

The pirates were gathering at the foot of the stairs, just out of sight of the gangway. A guy with a pistol was waving it around and whispering orders.

Some of the pirates actually looked like they were listening to him. Most wandered around like a bunch of college kids on Friday night looking for a party.

A final wave of the pistol was followed by a shout. Dozens of pirates raced or stumbled into view, waving their cutlasses.

Kris and Penny let out screams that didn’t have to be faked and galloped for the main outboard passageway. Kris was glad for Abby’s advice; the deck was slippery, and bare feet were the best way to go.

Nelly passed along the view from the quarterdeck camera, so Kris didn’t have to look over her shoulder. The pirates were not at all prepared for wet and slippery footing.

Two pirates slipped. As they went down, several more piled up on them. Waving cutlasses were suddenly hacking and slashing whoever got in their way.

The entire invasion of the
Wasp
might have ended there if the guy with the pistol hadn’t shouted, “Get those girls.”

Penny and Kris emphasized the order with fine girlish shrieks. The calico dress fit Penny fairly well. The one on Kris hardly got to her knees.

“Get the girls,” was taken up by the mob, and the pounding of booted feet told Kris even more than Nelly’s camera feed that she’d better run if she wanted to keep living.

The main outboard passageway ran in a circle around the waist of the
Wasp
. Kris was careful to keep in sight of the leaders of the chase but made sure to let them get no closer.

The quarterdeck was on the starboard side. Opposite on the port side was a stairwell Kris intended to lead them up.

As befitting the
Wasp
’s conversion to a warship, the angle of the stairs was now much closer to a steep Navy ladder. With any luck, she’d put that to good use.

Kris checked the camera take from the quarterdeck and passageway. The Marines had started taking down the pirates from the rear without disturbing those in the lead. One of the advantages of the circular passageway was that the leaders were indeed staying ignorant of what was going on behind them.

Kris was now ready to bring the leaders up to date.

“Up the ladder,” Kris shouted, both for Penny’s information . . . and the pursuing pirates.

Up the ladder Penny went, followed close by Kris. Once out of sight from below, Kris grabbed Penny’s elbow. “I’ve had enough of this running.”

“I was wondering when you would,” Penny said.

“Ready your mop,” Kris ordered, leveling hers like a pike of old, wet end out.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Penny asked, a bit unsure of the concept. Still, she followed Kris’s lead.

“Go for the lead guy on the right,” Kris ordered. “I’ll take the left.”

Two pirates, cutlasses waving, poked their heads over the lip of the ladder. They were not expecting opposition.

Kris’s wet mop hit her guy right in the face. “You really need to brush your teeth,” she said as she did just that with the swab.

“You, too,” Penny cried, and twisted her mop in the other guy’s face.

Off-balance . . . and outmaneuvered . . . the two of them fell back into the unprepared arms of their copillagers. One got skewered by a cutlass, the other rolled downhill into a ball with way too many arms and legs.

“I’ll kill you for that,” would have sounded much more threatening from the guy with the pistol if he hadn’t gulped halfway through the threat at the sight of Kris and Penny standing at the top of the stairs . . . both with their service automatics pointed right between his eyes.

A second later, the soft pop of sleepy darts put an end to further conversation as the half dozen boarders who had made it that far fell under the gentle arms of Marine sharpshooters.

Kris holstered her automatic, pulled her worn cotton dress down to at least cover her knees, and became the commander of Patrol Squadron 10 again.

“Captain, do we have control of this ship?” she asked Jack.

“All members of the boarding party are captured and accounted for, ma’am. Docs are taking care of several red-on-red casualties, and one big fellow whose heart isn’t taking too well to Colt-Pfizer’s best sleepy darts. People with bad hearts really should not play pirates.”

“Somehow I doubt he’ll learn from this experience. What’s the situation on the other ships?” Kris asked on net.

“The
Bucket of Blood
is once again ours,” Lieutenant Commander Campbell reported.

“The
Dauntless
has most of her boarding party down and sleeping,” Lieutenant Amber Kitano reported. “A half dozen managed to lock themselves in the wardroom. We are debating letting them stay in there until the food kills them.”

“Oh, the slings and arrows of a subordinate with a sense of humor,” Campbell complained.

“The
Dauntless
’s Marines are ready to move out on your orders, Your Highness.” Lieutenant Kitano cut to the chase. “Where away?”