Wandering Engineer 6: Pirates Bane (20 page)

“Bet? How much?” Jed asked.

“Ten creds or a half shift.”

“Shit,” Jed said, rubbing his head. “I dunno, that's big stakes
man,” he grumbled.

“Come on, take a risk,” Baskin's said, bouncing the ball and
catching it again. “What do you have to lose?”

“Ten credits and a half shift doing your stink ass job,” Jed
growled. He looked at the screen, deep in thought. “What side you said? The
Hawks?”

Baskin's looked at the screen again. “Yeah.”

“They are down by three and it's the fourth quarter. How can the
Rattlers come back from that?” the big man asked. “No way,” he said.

“So?” Baskin's said, smiling. “Easy money right?” he asked.

Jed stared at him for a long moment. “I'm not... no,” he said. He
thought for a moment, scowling. Finally he caught on. “You asshole! You're
pulling a Burns on me!” he growled, kicking the other guy's chair. Baskin's floundered
for balance, missing the balls return.

“A Burns?” he asked, trying to project innocence.

“Sure. It's a recording right? I bet you watched it already and
know the outcome. Sure,” Jed growled, shaking his head. “A sucker, that's what
you take me for,” he growled, stomping off.

Baskins smirked, recovering the ball. There would be other marks
he thought. “Frack head,” he growled. He sighed, so much for that idea.

Phoenix watched it all unfold and regretted not having someone to
bet with himself. He would have bet real CPU cycles that the two humans would
have come to blows. That would have been productive for him. Unfortunately it
hadn't happened.

He was tempted to throw his own efforts into destabilizing the
crew but held off. He had in his memory the stories of Sprite and the Admiral
of the Antigua Prime 'haunting' and the antics of Sprite on the Admiral's
behalf. It would be simple to have a series of accidents to spook the crew.
Possibly entertaining, but it would violate his orders.

So, he watched and waited, unsure if the signal to act would ever
come through, but ready to do so.

<----*----*----*---->

As he re-entered the brig behind the first guard Admiral Irons
carefully scanned the weapons locker. Because it was a brig locker it didn’t
contain the lethal weapons that were in the ship’s armory, however in the back
was what he truly sought, a dozen sets of re-breathers.  It also had shock
batons, a cattle prod, and neural whip among other things he really didn't want
to identify. Some items still had bits of blood and skin on them.

“Sprite, map the ante room and record the voices and retinal
patterns of the guards,” he texted to the AI as the guards got their shit
together.

“As well as record the key codes they used to open the doors.
Understood. You should realize they are up to something nasty sir,” Sprite
said.

The Admiral nodded a choppy nod, distracted in his planning. His
plan was partially formed, but he needed manpower to pull it off. If he just
went all gangsta on them and did a frontal assault with his shields and plasma
weapons he'd be cut off, locked in a section of the ship behind armored
bulkheads that even his plasma weapon wouldn't cut easily. He had to hit them
from multiple threat axis at the same time to prevent getting overwhelmed.

He'd be drained if he went it alone, he knew he needed to take a
chance on the other prisoners and organize a prison break. The question now was
whom could he trust?

He turned at the clack of sound behind him. His passive senses
started to reach out but Sprite shut them down fast. He frowned, looking over
his shoulder to see robots. Robotic guards. Great, he thought. That was an
added complication.

There were several, one humanoid and two robotic dogs. Obviously
ground weapons, drones really, but a mobile set of eyes for someone far away.
Also an added variable and complication he really didn't need right now. He was
however glad to know about them.

He studied them briefly. They were worn, but in functional
condition. Their eyes scanned him briefly. He felt a lidar scan hit him. He
moved ever so slightly, just enough to blur the scan. They scanned him a few
more times; each time he moved enough to prevent a proper image. Finally the
robot gave up. Most likely whoever was controlling it thought the scanner was
faulty.

The robotic drones he noted would be a problem. They were most
likely controlled from a security console somewhere on the ship. Hacking them
was possible, but not once a confrontation was underway. He'd have to have
Proteus or Sprite find a way to jam or corrupt them. He would also need to find
that security station and target it to take it out.

The guards roughly pushed him into the brig, neglecting to take
off his cuffs. When he turned to them and held his hands out expectantly but patiently
they laughed a gloating evil laugh that would have chilled anyone but him. At
least they'd left his hands cuffed in front he thought. Sighing he turned to
see the Horathian MC and two of his goons coming for him. Thinking that with
his hands chained he would be easy meat, they charged.

John harshly bit down on using his fully enhanced reflexes. A snap
kick to one dropped him back. The other two backed off, but one tripped on
someone’s outstretched leg and went down with a howl.

John took advantage of the distraction and charged the other man,
using the base of his palms to ram into the other man’s solar plexus while
ducking a roundhouse punch. The man went down gasping and retching. John felt
pain as a blow landed on his left shoulder and he turned to face his new
attacker.

Bard was up, a trickle of blood and drool dripping from his pulped
mouth. Snarling he landed a few more punches before John dropped to the deck
and lashed out. The snap kick hit the man’s leg. The man went down, howling as
his leg bent the wrong way and his kneecap shattered. John flipped to his feet
without using his shackled hands.

Turning to the final goon who had tripped, he snorted in wry humor
to see the guy hastily backing away with his hands up. Guards entered and showered
the compartment with kicks and blows with billy clubs before they dragged the
wounded out.

When the compartment settled down, the food replicator came online
and the prisoner’s lined up to eat. John waited until they were all in line
then took his place at the back, surprising some.

“Scan the replicator again.”

“We already tried that Admiral, the node Proteus created links to
a diagnostics system and nothing more. The device is hard firewalled out of the
ship's net,” Sprite reported.

“The replicator seems to be powered by a remote switch, allowing
the prisoner’s to eat, but not to enter the ship net.”

He noted the surviving officers each received their share of the
slop in old dirty plastic bowl and then sat in a corner far from the three
remaining Horathians. The female blond Horathian nearest him glared spitefully at
John. He looked at her with cool disinterest. She mouthed 'you'll get yours
when the Captain finds out' and then looked away to the other Horathians around
her.

Sprite boosted his auditory sensors, and he picked out their
conversation. The Horathians were muttering about Bard, and about what was
going to happen to John. They were sullen, but eager to see it. He turned away,
he didn't need to hear them discussing what might happen to him.

Instead Sprite focused on the officers. He was surprised to hear
them talking with some spunk. “It seems more is going on than we thought. They
aren't as beaten as we had assumed
John
,” Sprite said, sounding amused.

“They don't stand a chance without me,” John replied under his
breath.

The rating in front of him looked back at him briefly. “You say
something?”

“No, just a sigh,” John replied. The rating looked at him for a
few seconds and then shrugged as he turned back.

“From the sound of it, they are arguing about bringing you into an
escape attempt,” Sprite reported. “I can see why the Horathians placed spies in
here and didn't rely on microphones. All the various conversations going on
around us are making it hard for even me to pick out what I want to hear,”
Sprite said, sounding like she approved of the situation.

John mentally nodded, focusing on the text captions Sprite was
putting up for him. Thankfully she wasn't using word bubbles, just initials to
signify who was saying what.

“I'm telling you, we can use him! He's legit! And he knows
something is going to happen!”

“We can't get to step two right now. We still need to figure out
how to disable the robots,” Ian said in a calm aside, not looking around as he
played with the porridge. “Gustov said he could maybe take out one, but not
all. If the bot controllers get word out, we're screwed.”

“I know, I know. They'll cut us off and suck the air out. We've
been over that. Let's stay positive. We know where the security office is; the
idiot keeps the door open so he can get a breeze with the fan down the hall.
Shifty on third shift is lazy he sleeps half his shift. We can use that.”

“Yeah, but they don't let many of us out on grave remember? So
that's a problem,” Sindri rumbled softly. He glanced around, not nervously, but
to make certain no one else was around. His bass voice tended to cut through
the chatter in the room and carried easily.

John nodded. They still had spirit, and he could work with that.
They were thinking, another good sign.

From the sound and direction of the conversation they were leaning
to recruiting him, however his overexposure with the fights was drawing too
much attention. Captain Franx wanted to use him as a distraction. Karen Hoshi
remained silent, poised but not giving any feel for what she thought. She had a
good poker face, the Admiral thought.

Another female joined them, silently sitting next to the others
and kept watch. She had her back to the others, but occasionally murmured
something or turned ever so slightly to look over her shoulder. The other three
females and several males, all looking out and covering the planning with
meaningless small talk, eventually surrounded them.  A few laughed, which
struck the Admiral as wrong. He couldn't put a finger on why it did until he
realized they hadn't shown any sound of amusement beyond bitterness in the
compartment.

If any of the Horathian's noticed, they didn't give any sign of
it.

Nodding mentally, Admiral Irons listened as they discussed the
Ssilli who was a slave aboard the ship. Distracted, he nearly dropped his bowl.

“Yes you heard right,” Sprite said to him, sounding intrigued and
excited herself. Intently interested, he listened as they discussed how the
female named Nata'roka could access the ship’s network when they next went to
hyper and sabotage the ship’s systems.

“Note, we don't want to be on this ship when that happens,” Sprite
said dryly. John nodded slightly.

There was no love lost for the Horathians, she was old and hated
them. She had been taken from a derelict freighter's stasis pod years ago and
had been tortured into submitting. She hadn't been broken from what he had
heard, which was a risk. They kept the alien alive for her incredible skills as
a navigator. The current crew took great pleasure in torturing her for fun when
they were in subspace, and from the sound of it, she was near the breaking
point.

Wincing, John wondered how they could still be alive. If she had
wanted, the hyperspace navigator could have dropped them into any black hole or
hyperspace fold at any time. During his travels he had learned that the Ssilli
were rare, the Xenos had taken special care to wipe them and any other
navigators out. In fact, only one of the aliens was currently known alive, the
one his people had rescued in Pyrax. A male, if he remembered correctly.
Something else to look into when he had the chance, he thought.

When it was his turn in front of the machine he placed his right
hand on the activation button just for a moment longer than required. Proteus
sent out nanites, scanning the system and creating a WI-Fi node to connect to
in the future.

“Get your crap and sit,” someone nearby growled. The Admiral took
the worn plastic bowl, stuck it in the slot, watched the goop sputter out, then
the panel went dead. He frowned and took the bowl out.

Now that he had his slop, Admiral Irons made his way through the
crowd, surprising them by his speed. He could feel the hostility in the
compartment; he didn't need the simpering looks and cold disdain to know he was
on dangerous ground. The feelings hovered in the air, a miasma radiating around
them. You'd think since he was the new meat there would be some sympathy,
apparently not. They were too beaten to care that others would share in their
misery. Some welcomed it, since new meat meant the focus came off them and onto
the noob. Since he had no crew... that made him the target. However his
disruption of their carefully crafted pecking order had thrown things into
flux. He had made it clear he would be no one's victim or round bottomed boy.

Not that he was going to let that happen. He knew he wasn't
reacting right; he was falling back into his old habits and doing things his
way. He was showing them in a way, showing them that they didn't have to be
beaten down; they didn't have to fall into the Stockholm syndrome. He wasn't
certain if that was a good idea however, unlike him, they were a target.

Eyes flicked up to him but he was too fast. He brushed past the
prisoner acting as a guard too quickly for him to move. The captains fell
silent as he sat down with them, and he raised his ladened spoon to take a bite
with both hands. “It won't work,” he told them casually, not even looking at
them.

 Captain Franx looked to him warily “What won't work?” he asked,
eyes telling Irons to just buzz off.

Admiral Irons snorted softly. “Your plan won't work.” Stunned
reactions from the group and he ground on. “First my ship was damaged and
locked down, it would take too long to repair it, a single missile or a graser
shot would take it out. Second, she's about out of fuel, not even enough to get
away from this ship let alone jump. Third, the bridge and this compartment are
covered with the auto guns in the ceiling and security bots.”

Calmly he ate, covertly watching them through his passive sensors
as they digested this news. The auto-guns and bots shouldn't be news to them.
Hell, their whole plan was based on a wing and a prayer that had no hope of
success. All the pirate ship had to do was use the EMP weapon on the Phoenix
again and they'd be helpless.

“What do you suggest John?” Franx finally asked casually, with a
cocked head as he ate slowly.

Admiral Irons calmly continued his meal, focusing on his intent.
To do this he needed them, but did he really trust them? Making a decision he
acted. He sent a signal to Proteus to send a timed nanite package to each of
the slave officers. Each of the nanite packs would have to rely on materials in
their host bodies to get the job done. Proteus would have to keep a nanite
trail going to each person to keep control of the nanites so they wouldn't
self-destruct. The whole process would be tricky, but if they pulled it off it
could mean the difference between life and death for a lot of people.

“Admiral, this is very unwise,” Sprite protested but he cut her off.

John turned to Franx. “Does someone have access to the central
control of the life support systems?”

“Not central, it's a distributed system. Redundant, but it is
effective in case part of it goes down, they can pull life support from
neighboring systems. I'm stuck trying to fix the downed plant in the aft stern
right now,” McGuyver acidly commented.

Nodding mentally Admiral Irons gave a crocked grin as McGuyver
caught on. Hoshi looked to each of them with shadowed eyes, and Admiral Irons
cocked his head and cut his eyes to her food. Grimacing she took a bite.

Their conversation slowed when the door opened. Everyone looked
covetously as Bard and one of the other prisoners stumbled back in. Bard looked
around before he marched to the food replicator. He took his slop and then took
a seat with the other Horathians. A few murmured to him but he angrily told
them to shut up.

Once he was settled the conversation ringing the conspirators
slowly picked up. When they were sure it was safe they continued.

“There are a dozen re-breathers in the ante room here. There are
several more in strategic places on this ship. If we secure them and the life
support, then we can gas the ship.”

Franx interrupted with “No! Cut the support and vent it!”
surprising them. It was just loud enough to carry a bit.

The Horathians look up at the loud voices. Bard ordered the
remaining goon to walk by and try to listen in. Hearing the order John
grimaced.

“Little ears coming,” he said softly and then quietly changed the
subject. The others were confused at first, but noted his cut off motion with
his hands just before the goon got within earshot. Franx looked up as John
described a New Texas buffalo and how he would kill for a decent steak right
about now.

“Crap man, don't talk about steak now!” Ian said with a grumble.
“Bad enough as it with this crap,” he said, disgustedly flicking his spoon.

“Sorry,” John replied.

“I want to know what happened when you were gone,” Sindri said.

John smiled slightly and decided it was a good enough topic. He
loudly told them about what happened on the bridge, pitching his voice so the
others around them could hear. The others fell silent to listen. When he got to
the good part he glanced at Ian. He smiled maliciously.

“How did you know it was going to blow?” Right on cue McGuyver
asked. It wasn't the question Irons wanted however.

Grimacing, John made up a story about how as a kid on the Kiev 221
he had witnessed a similar event. “The stink of burning insulation is still
stuck in my brain to this day, and when I smelled it I had backed up even
before my brain had caught up with my nose.”