Jethro: First to Fight (71 page)

“Ah. Well, if that doesn't work we could
go the other way, use holograms to make the passages look like dead ends or
cover people or holes or something.”

“True,” Rasha Warner replied. Her
supermodel body vanished. “It's been a long time since I've had to giggle like
that. I'm glad I've got audio to back the video up. It's hard!”

“Right...” Savo said, flipping off the
top of the stack and then down to the ground. He checked the body over, picking
his pockets and taking the weapons and ammunition he found. He knew better than
to take the radio, they could track those. He'd used it once to lure someone
in, but had bitten off more than he could chew.

“How are Howi and the others doing?” he
asked when he finished. He stuffed the body in an empty container, sealed the
lid, then rolled it back into place. He dropped another container on top then
headed to the vent.

“Um, okay, he got one too. But I think
I'm right, I just overheard their Commander order them to move in twos, no more
solo bullshit as he said.”

“Ah, well, it was fun while it lasted.”

“Speaking of fun, meeting in Ralphi's
bar and grill in ten.”

Savo grimaced, rubbing the small of his
back. “Better make it thirty, crawling through the ducts isn't easy, even when
you're a chimp. And I'm not exactly what you'd call a small chimp.”

“True, I'll let them know you are
coming,” Rasha said as her image winked out.

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

“We're as ready as we'll ever be
Ralphie,” Alice said, hugging her husband. She had a sawed off shotgun tucked
under her right arm.

“I know,” he said, surveying their crew.
They'd been shareholders in Yard Dog inc, the shipyard. They'd watched their
friends die agonizing deaths. Now, here gathered were the remaining yard dogs
in his bar, grimly determined to get some of their own back.

“We'll make em pay,” Sparks said. He
wasn't sure if Regina was alive or dead. She'd been in the hab when he'd come
over to the station on a stupid freight run. Oh how he regretted their
separation.

“Keep your head,” Savo said, nodding to
his gorilla wife Petunia. He turned, nodding to their chimp husband and wife.
“I've got to go, Derrango's got something cooking,” he said. He kissed his
Petunia and Shari, and then patted Howi on the shoulder. “Take care of them,”
he murmured and then left at a trot, hefting his rifle on his shoulder.

“We need to hit them, make them fall
back. Spook them. Any ideas?” Taylor asked. His holo avatar was the brightest
thing in the dark room.

“Howi and I grew up on this station. We
know all the ins and outs, and we can fight,” Shari said.

“Not pregnant,” Howi said, eying her.

She snorted bitterly, one hand cupping
her swollen abdomen. “Do you think that matters to them?”

“No,” Howi said. “But we can hide. We've
done it before.”

“I know. But not all of us can. They'll
dig us out eventually Howi, you and I both know it. It's no way to live. I
don't...” she shifted uncomfortably. “I don't want that for our kid.”

“How's the arm?” Sparks asked, nodding
his chin to Howi's bandage on his right arm.

“Flesh wound,” he said, looking at it
briefly. “I've gotten worse welding,” he said. He'd cut it too close, trying to
weld a hatch ahead of the pirates. They'd flanked the hatch he'd been working
on, only ducking out through a vent had saved his fuzzy ass.

“Hell, your wife has done worse you
mean,” Sparks teased.

“Which one?” Howi answered, grinning.
“Course that was in bed...” he joked cracking his knuckles as he grinned at the
two female primates.

Petunia sniffed. “Cad,” she said softly,
still worried about Savo.

“I'll say,” Shari said, punching Howi in
his good arm. He made a dutiful oof and then rubbed the arm.

“What about... I hesitate to even say
it,” Grimaldi, the pizza chef grimaced, turning away.

“Spit it out. People are dying,” Taylor
said sternly. “If you've got an idea, let's hear it.”

“I was thinking of the station's past
when Howi mentioned it,” the chef said, waving to the chimps. “What I was
wondering, I heard a med tech say that some of those...
things
still
live. In stasis.”

“No!” Shari said, eyes wide.

“Oh I like it,” Howi said grimly. “Let
them have a bit of fun with them. We had our time. They want to kill aliens? We
can give them aliens,” he said nastily.

“I'll see what I can do,” Taylor said
and blinked out.

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

“We can't!” Yan Fu said when Taylor laid
out his plan. “It's immoral!” He was aghast by the carnage. They were all
savages. Civilized beings didn't do such things! His wife looked sadly at him.
She shook her head.

“It's unethical you mean,” D'red
interjected. “I'd think it was illegal, but at this stage...” He shrugged his
upper arms. “It is borderline illegal, we'd  have to answer for it later.”

“Doc has informed all of us that there
is no hope of saving them, of returning them to sapience. Some semblance of
intelligence yes, but not full sapience. Not on a level any of us would trust,
the aggression is there, ingrained into their Psyche too deep to get out short
of a lobotomy. So, they would remain in stasis forever.”

“This solves the problem. A twofer, two
for one. I like it,” Rasha Warner said.

“As senior Naval officer on the station,
I hereby approve of the plan. Anything to slow the bastards down and make them
think twice.”

“You realize they will slaughter them
right?”

“Depends, which side you mean? And I
think we can help the casualty count go up if we really put our minds to it,”
Rasha said nastily.

“It will take a couple hours to get them
awake,” Clio said.

“Fine. Sheriff, we'll need some cowboys
to wrangle them.”

“Cows these aren't but if you can funnel
them in the right direction, I can give them the proper motivation to move in
the direction we want them to go, if that's what you mean,” Derrango said,
tipping his hat back.

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

Sergeant Nast noticed the lights go out
the moment they entered the new Axial corridor. He'd been expecting it, the
enemy had been cutting the lights and life support in any area his people
entered. He frowned though, gas was puffing out of some of the vents along the
far end. He flipped his night vision goggles down and then scowled.

“Something's coming,” Nast said.
Unfortunately he was the only one of his troop who had night vision goggles.
The goofs behind him had emergency lights. They knew better than to use them
unless he said so though.

“Can you see something Sarge?” Pender
asked nervously. They'd been sniped for a while now. That bothered them more
than a frontal attack.

“The way this is going... I don't doubt
it,” Nast muttered. He'd lost three men, two were casualties, one was KIA. That
sucked, but it was to be expected. He heard a familiar scrabbling, something he
wished he hadn't. He'd heard it one time in his life, and he'd never gotten
over it. He sucked in a breath as he cupped his hands to his ears.

The sound repeated itself, then he heard
the familiar sound of something running, getting closer.

“Take cover!” he snarled. “Ambush!” he
said, pulling Pencil dick Pender into the center of the room. Pender had the
Gatling, he could break any charge with a single squeeze of the trigger. There
was a familiar scream, one that sent shivers down Nast's spine.

“Dilgarth!” he roared.

“Oh no they didn't! Oh shit!” his men
gibbered, backing away. Nast turned a scowl on them, stopping them cold.

“Pender, hose em when they come around
the bend,” he snarled, turning back to the Private.

“Hosing,” Pender said, gulping. Claws
skittered on metal and then alien raptors from their nightmares were
silhouetted by the fog. Nast knew he was the only one who could see them. “Let
her rip!” he snarled, slapping the Private on the shoulder.

Pender closed his eyes and squeezed the
trigger. The pitch black corridor erupted in a blinding light and sound of his
Gatling gun going into full bore as he hip shot.

Pender moved the gun back and forth,
throwing a stream of fire down the long corridor. He could hear something
screaming on the other end, but things were working on either side of the
stream, ducking it. Something else had jumped high.

Nast began to fire, hitting the Dilgarth
that Pender missed. When one got in close he reversed his rifle and used it as
a club, slamming one down to the ground before he stepped on it and fired at
point blank range into its rolling eye. The thing squirmed, trying to bite him
so he fired one more time then kicked it.

Pender finished firing and reloaded.
While he did so two shooters moved in to cover him. They flipped their lights
attached to their rifle barrels on, hammering anything that entered the light. The
Dilgarth were photophobic however, they did their best to avoid the roving
lights. After a moment they got the message and retreated.

Nast moved in, he fired single shots
into the wounded, making sure each was dead. “Single shots, kill the wounded.
Watch the teeth and claws.”

“Serge...”

“Do it!” Nast snarled. “And conserve
your ammo. Something tells me we're going to need it. Remember, it doesn't come
from heaven,” he growled. He spotted Pender taking a trophy with a knife. He
snorted but didn't say anything. The man had earned it.

“What the hell?” the rear guard said
turning at a sound behind him, just before screaming. He went down with a
Dilgarth on him. A second and third followed.

“They're behind us!” a Private said in a
panic, firing on full auto.

Nast turned at the fire, swearing
bitterly. The damn aliens had used the weapons fire and their own sacrificial
frontal charge to work their way around behind him.

“Ah hell, fire at will! Kill em all!” He
ordered, wondering if the other fronts were having as much fun as he seemed to
be having.

Mayweather got sneaky, before exiting
hyper they reduced their emissions to that of a freighter of the same mass and size.
She bumbled in during the translation, dropping their power and active sensors
to what a freighter would have. They used the ship's ECM to project the image
of a freighter to the enemy.

Immediately after their systems settled
Firefly launched remote recon drone platforms to scout the inner system. On a
ballistic trajectory it would take each drone a week to get to the station and
pass through the nearby space.

“We're still getting a head count
skipper. Neutrino's and mass readings make it... ninety or more potentially
hostile forces. That number may be higher.”

“That's a lot of ships,” Shelby said
cautiously.

“Not all of them are warships. I'm
betting not even half of them,” the Captain replied, intently studying the
screens as their data solidified. CIC was stuck using the passive feed, she
didn't want to give themselves away. Not that anyone could miss the telltale
arrival of a jump transition.

“Rig for silent running. Get us under
stealth now number one,” she said.

“Aye Captain, stealth mode. Rig for
silent running,” Shelby called out. “Set condition two.”

“Now it's our turn you bastards,” the
Captain murmured, searching for a weakness. The ships were mostly clustered
around the station.

“As much as I'd like to think of us in
the role of the hunter skipper, that's a lot of game with a lot of guns.”

“Pish posh, we'll go with bushwhack
three. Snipe them.”

Firefly's smart skin changed, darkening
to an inky black. After a moment stars appeared, perfectly matching the stars
behind the ship. She moved out, not under her wedge, but with a soft puff of
thrust before she went on a ballistic course into the inner system.

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

A few hours later the Captain wasn't so
chipper. She turned to the elf. “Anything guns?” She turned to the sensor
techs.

“CIC has tentatively identified a few of
the smaller craft as gunships Captain. I'm sorry, right now, at this range and
with passives only, that's the best we've got.”

“What about their power plants? Mass
readings?” she asked. “Anything matching our files? Surely something has to be
there!”

“I'm sorry Captain,” the elf said,
shaking her head. “It's not that simple. We could tell the difference between a
military grade drive or power plant, but they're using civilian grade across
the board.”

“Oh.”

“And the mass readings are just about
useless, the smaller ships we can pick out, but are they warships or small
freighters?”

“Um... I'm going to go with a warship.”

“Oh? What about a yacht? Or a yacht with
a turret grafted on. See our dilemma?” Purple Thorn asked.

The Captain nodded. “What about
optical?”

“Some of the ships are running with
running lights, but most aren't. They're dark, either a dark gray or blacked
out like us.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Which is a problem at this range. We
know approximately where they are at, so that narrows the field, but we also
have to deal with planetary objects in our sight line as well. Such as the
moons, asteroids, and the station itself.”

“So, what you're telling me is that
we're dead in the water. We have no clue what we're really up against?”
Mayweather demanded. “Come on people! Give me something here!” she demanded.

“We're nowhere with communications
ma'am. It's all encrypted,” a rating informed her.

“That's negative information. How about
something positive?”

“We're trying Captain. We've got time I
think. It will be at least another hour before the flash of our arrival reaches
them.”

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

“Admiral, a ship has arrived in the system
from the Triang jump point,” a rating said, looking at the admiral and then to
his Captain.

The Captain frowned ferociously behind
the admiral's back. The rating had stolen his thunder. The rating gulped paling
slightly.

The admiral glanced at the Captain but
he had schooled his expression into a polite mask. “Oh?” the admiral asked.

“From its energy level upon emergence,
it's mass reading, and it's drive spec we've classed it as a medium freighter,
most likely in the four megaton range.”

“Ah,” the admiral said, nodding. They'd
lost two ships when they had entered the system, both had run when they had
arrived. The admiral had refused to detach corvettes to secure the other jump
points. One had made it to the B452A jump point and had jumped south. The other
had gotten out of the shipyard and followed the first a day before they entered
the inner system. They had watched with impotent rage as the tiny ship, most
likely a converted yacht, had gotten it's legs under it and made for the B452A
jump point as well. Most likely they were screaming up a storm, warning the
systems they jumped through of the pirate fleet. Well, let them.

“She's a bit slow sir.”

“Fully ladened, or just old. Most likely
old. Well, we'll send out a greeting to her. Get me Sirius's Captain. I have a
task for him and oh, the first Frigate group and oh, detach two of the
gunships. That should be enough of a net to catch our fat friend,” the admiral
said, tapping the blinking icon on the plot.

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

Firefly's CIC finally picked up
movement, three frigates a half a dozen gunships, and a tin can had split off
from the main formation and set upon an intercept course. It was obvious that
they were going to try to run them down, they had built up a vector allowing
them to cut the decoy off from the two jump points it was facing, the jump
point south to B450A, or the one to the east, the least used jump point to an
empty system that connected to New Texas. The system wasn't even named on their
star charts, it was so rarely used because it was perilously close to a
magnetar.

“We're getting a bit more detail now
Captain, at least on the ships coming out to meet us. The gunships are further
out, in a rosette formation on the Y and X axis of the incoming formation. The
frigates are split on all three axis, but one is running further afield. ETA to
decoy is twenty six hours.”

“Understood. I guess we'll have to wait
then.”

“I don't think we'll have to wait quite
that long Captain. They should burn through the decoy's camouflage long before
then,” the Veraxin sensor officer said.

“Maybe. Then again, maybe not. If they
aren't expecting it, and if their sensors are about on par with what they had
in Pyrax...” Mayweather shrugged.

“We can't count on that ma'am. You know
that.”

“No, but we'll see shall we?”

“We're getting a tentative ID on the tin
can. CIC is calling it an Arborth class, the Sirius they think.”

“The Serious? Are they serious? Did
someone really name a ship that?” The Captain asked, clearly amused.

“No ma'am. Sirius,” the sensor officer
said. “CIC made the call based on markings on her hull they said. I'm not sure
if it's legit.”

“We'll see.”

“They aren't coming together Captain,
they're coming at us piecemeal. From the look of it the smaller ships are
forming a net. They'll either drive us into the tin can's guns or into a group
of their own guns.”

“You mean our doppelganger. We're going
in a different route. Helm, stick to bushwhacker three. We'll take them on one by
one, starting with the big boy. We'll take him out early, no pussy footing
around with him. Then we'll pick off any stragglers.”

“Defeat in detail.”

“Definitely. I'm glad the enemy
Commander sent out a piece of his force like this. Defeat in detail indeed.
It's almost like he was begging for us to do this.”

“Perhaps it was because he fell for the
bait Captain?” Purple Thorn asked, clearly amused.

“Never fall in love with your own plan
or perceptions. They are invariably skewed or wrong. Always anticipate that
your enemy sees through your schemes. Never plan on them working out
perfectly.”

“Straight from the tactical manual.”

“I try.”

“True. This is working out nicely
ma'am.”

“Just the way we wanted. Did that other
signal go out?” the Captain asked, turning to the comm officer. He nodded.
“Good then. Hopefully someone's still alive on the station and the planet to
answer sometime soon. Give me a clock, let me know when we can expect a
response from each,” she said. The taciturn com officer nodded again and a pair
of counting down digital timers appeared to hover over her station.

“Skipper, we have picked up unencrypted
messages from the planet. Media broadcasts. It's faint, and a bit distorted,
but we've gotten enough to start getting a picture of what's been going on.”

“Oh? So the planet hasn't fallen yet?”

“No ma'am. Not for a lack of trying on
the Horathian's part. The station however, has fallen. It's shields broke down
ten days ago.”

“Crap.”

She studied the intel they had. The
Horathian pirates were occupying the station, or trying to. Resistance was
still ongoing from reports in the media. The pirates were holding off from the
planet, but striking it with rock bombs and pieces of orbital industry from
outside the planetary weapons range. They had taken out some of the
communication satellites and pounded a transhab station into wreckage as a show
of force the day before.

“The enemy leader's name is Admiral
Cartwright. Rear Admiral.” She frowned, looking at his image. He'd sent a blunt
order for the planet to surrender just before his show of force. He was a piece
of work, blowing apart a defenseless station. She couldn't wait to lock horns
with him, show him what it was like to fight an enemy who could fight
back
.

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

As they crossed the system to the
intercept point they received better readings on the ships, their types,
equipment, drives, and numbers from the recon drones and their own passive
sensors.

They were in for a stiff fight, even
though the enemy was coming in piecemeal. Three tin cans, a dozen frigates so
far identified, and twenty to forty gunships. They still didn't have a hard
number on the other ships, though CIC was pretty sure of at least fifteen
corvettes, possibly more.

They were matching the sensor feeds with
the data Lieandra had provided them. It still didn't give her any information
about their best speed, weapon mix, and Captain's skills, but it did give her
the ship classes and possible locations. They would have to work with what they
had.

A day out they dropped a half squadron
of fighters under the command of Hurt Locker while passing through the oort
cloud. The Cobra fighters went in on a different vector under stealth. The
fighters had a long dangerous flight ahead of them, mostly ballistic to
conserve fuel. They would be coming into the space around the station and yard
with less than half of their fuel remaining and battle looming. Dangerous, but
a worthy risk if they pulled their part off. They had a lot to prove.

Mayweather watched them go. She was a
bit nervous about this bit, it would work or it wouldn't. It was a gamble. The
fighters would be on the ragged edge of exhaustion by the time they got into
striking distance, low on life support, down to half their fuel, and probably a
little mad from being cooped up in their fighters for the better part of three
days.

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

The Warners received the signal and long
dormant IFF protocols kicked in. Rash responded, knowing it could be a trap,
but recognizing the IFF of Firefly. The admiral had told them of the ship and
of the events in Pyrax.

“It's a trap!”

“Nonsense!”

“No, it's the real deal,” Rasha replied
patiently, expecting such doubt. She opened the file and shared it with the
other councilors. When each received the signal they frowned, torn by it.
Warner blinked, glowing in navy blue. So did his wife. So did one other person.

“It...” Warner turned in surprise to see
an echo of the IFF and the blue glow from an unexpected source. He turned to
stare at Hishina Fu, wife of  Yan Fu. “Um, what's going on here?” he
demanded. Her IFF had changed to that of a first Lieutenant, but resigned.

She smiled softly. “It seems my secret
is out. I have you by date of rank Lieutenant, but you are a reservist, I resigned
my commission,” Mrs. Fu said, ignoring the 'et tu' look her husband was giving
her. “We have no time to go over this,” she said brusquely. “The signal is
valid, I too recognize the IFF. There is no disputing that.”

Some looked at her as if she had changed
in their presence. In a way she had, gone was the self effacing quiet shadow of
Yan. Here now was a woman with new found purpose, to protect her people. The
past ten days had ground that into her, it had washed away the centuries of
peace and harmonious thoughts conditioned into her.