Jethro 3: No Place Like Home (32 page)

“I'm in. I'm using the shuttle's sensors; the ship's computers are still messed up. I applied the unlock that the AIs created, but apparently, the Horathians tried to reformat the system so it's not working.”

“Great.”

“We've got some life readings in main engineering, a couple here and there in some of the quarters, and a hell of a lot in a couple of the holds and large spaces.”

“Really?” Al asked.

“Yeah,” the dog said, sounding concerned. “I'd estimate hundreds, possibly thousands of people.”

“Colonists?”

The neodog turned to look at the frail body of the naked woman. “Something tells me...no.”

Al turned to follow the dog’s gaze and then set his jaw. He nodded slowly. “Shayne, Doderman, you stay here. Secure the door behind us. Check in every five with us and the shuttle. Do what you can to police the bodies and get the security cameras and life support online. I'll leave you one sensor ball; use it as a door keeper.”

“Aye, sarge,” the doberman said. He went out into the companionway, looking around before he reached up and pushed a vent panel up. Al wondered briefly what he was doing until the dog moved a camera up into the vent. Al closed his eyes and selected the camera and then nodded. It showed the corridor area. Not as good as if it was out and bobbing around, but at least it wasn't a target.

“Good. Let's move.”

“Where we going?” Clemens asked.

“Engineering first. You know that. Then we'll secure any leakers.” He was worried about the large masses of people. He wasn't sure what was up with that.

As they made their way through the ship to main engineering they paused to check the hatches and rooms along their path. What they found both intrigued and then appalled them. The women of the group became more and more grim, eyes haunted by the scenes of torture rooms. Spitterman winced, feeling their helpless rage.

In main engineering Clemens blew the hatch open, knocking a man down. She leaped over the hatch and then clubbed another man to the deck. He hit and then rebounded, floating off, either unconscious or dead.

“No one move,” Spitterman said as Wong came in behind her partner. She set herself up on the other side of the hatch. Al directed the drones to scan the compartment and each of the Horathians. Each of the men and women were floating very still, eyes wide in surprise and shock.

“Surprise,” Clemens said coldly. She turned enough to see someone shiver. She turned to point her Impaler at him. The man froze, hands in the air. “Think it over,” she murmured softly.

“We give up!” a guy said.

“Wise decision,” Spitterman said, pulling out plastic zip tie cuffs.

Ten minutes later he went through another check with the bridge and then took six Marines with him to their next stop. He'd been tempted to leave Wong and Clemens behind, but he'd decided not to. Something told him there would be fewer prisoners if he did. He seriously didn't need the headache that would cause.

They made their way through the ship to the closest of the large groups of people. He paused, scanning the markings on the hatch and frowned. “Dungeon three?” He murmured, not liking the sound of it.

“We need to get in there,” Clemens said tightly.

“Keep it together, Marine,” Wong said softly, eyes cold. She glared at the door. Each of the women took a side of the hatch and then looked expectantly to Spitterman. He frowned but then waved Cheb forward. Cheb checked the lock, but for some reason he cut it off instead of blowing the hatch. They sent a sensor ball through the hatch before it had fully opened and then paused, stunned by what they saw.

“Spirit of space,” Clemens whispered, eyes tearing as she saw the bodies chained to the walls, ceiling and floor.

“Medics,” Spitterman said, turning in place. He didn't want to go into that mass of misery anymore. He heard soft whimpering and noted many of the people were crawling into balls, cowering in fear. “Medics!” He snarled over the link. “Get me Medics here on the double! As many as you can get!”

He shook his head, looking back into the compartment. Clemens was on her knees, trying to comfort a pair of women. He could hear the fog of tears in the woman's voice. “Poor sods,” Cheb said softly.

“Yeah,” Al said roughly. He pulled out his MREs and then handed them to Wong. “Hand these out. Don't spook them.”

“Right sarge,” she said quietly. She handed over her weapons to Cheb. Al opened his mouth to protest but then closed it. He frowned but just watched as she stepped into the darkened room and spoke quietly.

“Poor sods indeed,” Al muttered quietly.

---( | ) --- ( | )---

Word got around about what Spitterman's squad and Lieutenant Pongo's squads had found. There were a lot of dark looks towards the captured Horathians. The survivors were gone; for the moment the fight was out of them. But that didn't stop more than one Marine from getting a little rough when they handled them.

Major Pendeckle thought about counseling his people sternly, hell, landing feet first on the problem before it spun out of control. But then he saw the sorry wretches as they were transported to Firefly's Infirmary. They were huddled under blankets, some little more than skeletons. When he saw a kid, a little girl and boy hugging each other and sobbing softly he decided he'd keep his counsel to himself. The bastards could use a few bruises. That was the least they deserved.

It was hell in space on that liner. He was glad they'd saved what they could. He'd heard stories and seen the recordings. He wasn't certain about some of the new blood under his command. Some were... not happy. Some grim, some sad. Many seriously pissed.

A few of the Marines that had signed on with the Admiral had been killed, a few others wounded. For some reason he'd been a bit top heavy in his recruiting, signing many on as officers instead of noncoms or enlisted. That made things a bit awkward for his own people. Integrating the two chains of command into one was one serious headache he wished he didn't have. He made a note to have none of them serve on the liner until it was gone over by intel and cleaned up.

He couldn't understand the pirates. To go to the trouble of dedicating a ship to...that. He'd heard of crap like that; of course, there were dozens of crappy horror flicks in the archives. Stuff about haunted ships and psychos terrorizing a ship or station, turning it into a sadist's playground. Well, here they had the real thing on their hands.

Oasis had once been a rich person’s playground. Oh, there were casinos, and even a small theme park, pools, and other things, but everything was...corrupted. Tainted by the bastards. The prize crew was already muttering about the ship being cursed and haunted by the ghosts of the people that had suffered incredibly cruelty there. And of course, those that had died. Even the kiddy area...he winced. He so did not want to know what had gone on there. There were reports of kids still coming out of there. He was pretty sure their childhood was forever gone.

He needed to get his people back. Right now he had squads securing the ships while penny packets secured important locations or guarded prisoners in the brigs or infirmaries. He was now contemplating using more mechs, something he and Major Forth had been reluctant to follow. When he got back to Pyrax he'd have to seriously look into it. Mechs would help them with their manning problem.

---( | ) --- ( | )---

Once the Marines had boarded and secured each of the ships, things began to wind down. Damage control parties finished the initial work on Bounty and Firefly. Doctor Standish released Lieutenant Commander McGuyver and his chief engineer Lieutenant Commander Sindri. The admiral tapped McGuyver to take command of Bounty while he involved himself in the overall repair effort.

Commander Sindri headed to the Corvette Echo with a small work crew and brought her in for repair with the help of the shuttle that transported them. Captain Mayweather was a bit put out over the diversion, but grudgingly agreed it was appropriate to salvage the vessel.

“He has his pick of all the vessels here and he picks the smallest?”

“Not quite the smallest, there are a couple gunships I believe, Captain, Terran HKs from the look of them. Most are scrap however. The frigates are not much better off. I believe, however, his reasoning is sound; Echo was recently rebuilt by Commander Sindri and the Admiral up to spec. Getting her back underway shouldn't be too hard if her battle damage isn't extensive,” Firefly responded.

“Yes, but losing a shuttle for...” the Captain frowned and checked her HUD. Firefly put up the numbers for her helpfully. “Is that...seventynine hours? Are they serious?”

“It is a shuttle, Captain. Moving an Apollo class corvette. Yes. The numbers are accurate. From the report the Apollo had numerous hull breaches and her fuel cells were drained. Her reactor and drive are down. They are using an emergency generator to power her life support and other basic systems.”

“Understood. So I'll get my shuttle back in no more than eighty hours?” the Captain demanded.

“Barring any unforeseen problems, yes. But,” the AI couldn't help but add as the Captain's scowl deepened, “the boat bay has put in a note that the shuttle will need to be inspected and possibly overhauled before being returned to service,” the AI said.

“Oh that's just...peachy,” Renee replied in disgust, shaking her head. “Wear and tear I'm assuming?”

“And the long flight yes. Pushing a mass she wasn't designed for as well.”

“Great. What else?”

“Well, Admiral Irons has moved his flag to the Battlecruiser.”

Renee frowned at that. She'd half expected it. The BC was a mess; her drive and most of her systems were scrap. But her hull was largely intact, despite the battle damage. What the admiral had done he could undo, she thought. He had certainly proved over the years he was highly capable of that at any rate.

“Work crews are to be dispatched to the other ships of the fleet once the Maine's survey is complete. Her initial mapping is underway right now. I will say the engineers will have their work cut out for them.”

“The Maine?”

“The Battlecruiser. Her original designation was the Maine. She was built in the Terran Yards in the Sol system. Admiral Irons insisted she be restored to her former honor and glory.”

“Good. How did they know it was the Maine? The computers”

“No, apparently a tech found the original builder's plaque buried somewhere. Most likely tucked in a bulkhead or something.”

“Okay, so, that's going on. What about the fleet?”

“We have prize crews on most of the ships,” Firefly reported. “Bounty does as well. Most of the concern is for the warships and the ships with the largest refugee population. Doctor Standish and Doctor Glenn are quite busy right now.”

“I'll bet. I noticed we were running a bit light. Are you okay?” Renee asked, voicing her concern.

“I must admit I'm a bit concerned myself. I can handle some chores on my own but not a lot. Commander Sprite sent me a firmware update, but I have yet to take the downtime to implement it.”

“You may want to do that then. Update?”

“More upgrades. I'm, I guess you could say evolving.”

“I see. Puberty?” Renee asked, smiling slightly.

“Perish the thought,” the AI replied dryly.

“Just couldn't help but ask,” Renee replied with a smirk. “We're getting back on schedule. Which reminds me, memo the department heads, I want the morning briefings to resume tomorrow. We'll have the usual coffee and danishes.”

The AI nodded. “Aye aye, Captain. Though, I must warn you, right now Chief Chowler is on the Maine lending a hand there. And most of the assistants are off on other ships.”

Renee closed her eyes for a moment and then sighed. “We will be getting him back I hope?”

“Sometime within the next shift unless he gets himself tied up in the project. He's helping with the detailed survey of main engineering.”

“Lovely. I'm guessing they will need our replicators?”

“Until the replicators on the Carnegie and the Maine can be sorted out, most likely. Bounty has a few as well.”

“Good. See if you can slip in some of the priorities we've needed but haven't had the keys to do.”

“I think the Admiral intends to get everyone ship shape ,ma'am. In good time.”

“Time, yes, that is something we may or may not have,” the Captain said, sitting in her chair. “We have a date to return, remember?”

“Yes. We have eight more days here before we need to return. Twelve if we push it. I hope we don't.”

“Understood. We'll need to, I don't know, remind someone. Commander Sprite if the Admiral is busy. I think it's okay if we push it though, I'm pretty sure Commander Logan will understand,” she said distracted.

“Understood, ma'am, and yes, I suppose he would.”

“So...”

“So...?” The AI echoed and then frowned. “I'm getting a message from Commander Sprite. The Admiral has tasked all AIs to investigate and catalog the computer databases. We're to replicate computer storage and then copy the files before we begin computer repairs. He wants them for the intelligence value. If I wasn't busy before...well, there goes my free time.”

“I see,” Renee said, sitting in her chair. She leaned forward. “I'll see about getting you some downtime. I'll go to the Admiral if I have to. It will keep for now though?”