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Subject: {ASSM} {Pirates} Pirates of the Carob Bean by Gary Jordan [2/3] (ScFi, nosex) 
Date: Wed,  9 Jul 2003 09:10:05 -0400
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(Part 2)

"What the fuck?"

Captain Gyra moved quickly to Tactical. "Report!" she barked.

"Ma'am, the OOSH array reports an ion trail again, same strength but
moving at a much higher acceleration."

"How high?" They couldn't possibly have had enough time to jettison
a significant amount of cargo, could they?

"It's... it seems high, I'm double-checking, but initial estimate is
three gees, Ma'am." The Tactical Officer hurriedly refined her
results while Captain Gyra chewed her lip worriedly. "Refined data
indicate 3.13 gees, plus or minus 0.02 gees." Her fingers moved over
her console, querying the computer. "At that rate, point of closest
approach is out of weapons range, Ma'am. They're getting away." That
last was spoken in a tone of disappointment and failure.

Gyra put her hand on the Tac Officer's shoulder. "That's why they're
the enemy. Continue present deceleration plan. At least we'll see
what they left behind for us." She kept her voice light, hoping to
raise the TO's spirits while her own plummeted.

 

"Captain, can you hear me?"

Christina came slowly out of her fog. How long had she been out? Why
was she so dizzy? She couldn't think straight. She tried to move a
hand to her belly, but couldn't reach it through the vacuum suit.
She opened her eyes.

"Don't try to move." That was the engineering technician. Technician
First Class Vienna? Viennes? "We couldn't check you out through your
suit. There may be internal injuries."

Christina nodded, and regretted the motion. She swallowed bile.
"What happened?" she managed to croak out.

"Ma'am, as near as I can reconstruct, the ionization from Anne's
exhaust caused a spike in the firing circuit, and caused the
disconnects to blow out of sequence. We got slammed to the deck
because we were at one end of the new assembly. I think the rest of
the modules detached on schedule, until we were singular again, and
the corridor became the center again. Once the gees were off, I
managed to take most of the spin off, but we're adrift."

"Who else is still with us? And call me Christina. Under the
circumstances, formality seems a bit..." she trailed off, resisting
the urge to shake her head to clear it.

"Yes Ma'am... Christina. Third Engineer Mackenne... Kate... broke
her tibia and both arms. She stayed conscious, though, and talked me
through getting the spin off and running lights and salvage beacon
set. The shuttle stayed behind - they picked up Ilf and they're
homing on us for rendezvous."

Ilf Stormborg was the deck officer outside when the central module
became a fan blade, Christina thought. "Was Ilf okay?"

"She... wasn't good, ma... Christina." She hesitated. "Susie said
she got spun so hard, she almost drowned in her own puke. They have
her sedated." It was worse than that, with blood pooling in
extremities and ruptured capillaries, and almost psychotic dementia.
But she didn't want to worry the Captain too much. She'd know, soon
enough.

"What about Anne?"

"They got away, Ma'am," Susan said proudly. "Clean away. We got a
relay from the shuttle. They say the pirate continued decelerating
toward where they expect the cargo to be. There's nothing there,
now, not even this module." Christina couldn't quite tell through
her faceplate, but Susan was either flushed or blushing, she
thought. "The First sent you a message, too. The Shuttle pilot -
that's Chris Draco - says First knows a lot of dirty words."

Christina laughed, despite the spike of pain and nausea that
brought. At least my husband is safe. Janey can be as pissed at me
as she wants to. I just hope Sven can forgive me. She closed her
eyes in thanks.

 

What else can go wrong? Gyra asked herself. If she hadn't seen the
plot herself, she would have thought the target had blown itself up.
But something had fled at better than three gravities. Was the
merchie nothing more than a tug, pushing a barge? That didn't make
sense; there needed to be hyperspace generators near both ends to
enclose the ship. And how would they see ahead of the cargo? She
shook her head slowly.

The take from Tactical was holographically displayed in the center
of the bridge. Ship's sensors - radar, optical, laser ranging -
plotted what might be a debris field of rapidly separating
objects... except the objects were all radiating outward in the same
plane, and at different velocities. One of the objects at least
carried a salvage transponder, and Celia B was matching with that,
allowing for a kilometer of separation. Enhanced optical showed it
to be a disk-shaped object. The TO was refining dimension estimates.

At the Exec's request, the optical display for the object with the
transponder was sent to the holograph. At maximum resolution, the
object appeared to be a closed cross-section of a ship's hull with a
central cavity - a flat donut - not obviously damaged. Both flat
surfaces came into view over a five minute period; it was rotating
at a rate of seven revolutions per hour, more or less. The axis of
revolution paralleled the course of the escaped merchant vessel.

The Chief Engineer was on the bridge. She said, "What we're seeing
is an enclosed prefab cargo hold. Sort of like the old sea-going
container ships in the 21st century." She pointed out various
connectors and reinforcement points. "I suspect that all our radio
contacts are similar, if not identical. Cut a ship in half, stick 10
to fifteen of these in the middle... voila. Huge, slow, freighter."

Gyra was absorbing the idea, glancing around to see others nodding,
or grimacing, or skeptical. The Chief Engineer continued.

"Built to take compression well, from what I see. Not as strong
against sheer stress, but what ship is? Tack? You want to put up the
main plot again?" The tactical plot reappeared in the holo. "It's
obvious. Spun it on the main axis and disassembled it. The drive and
piloting sections reassembled and left." Heads nodded. "We need to
take one apart and record it. Reverse engineer it. Stick in a couple
weapons modules instead of cargo, it'd make a fine pirate ship. Turn
it into a cargo ship again, one module at a time."

"That would avoid the current problem, wouldn't it?" Gyra observed.
"All these modules..." she counted eleven in range "... hurtling
sunward, and us with time limits and no way to determine the most
valuable. At least that one indicates they thought it valuable
enough to put a beacon on it," she pointed.

"Unless it's a trap. Or a malfunction of a delay circuit," observed
the Tactical Officer. "Sorry, ma'am. Didn't mean to rain on the
parade."

Gyra shook her head once. "Don't worry about it. The parade's been
rained out. At this point, I only hope we can take something
valuable enough to cut our losses." She thought it obvious that
their ullage wouldn't empty the module they were closing on. And the
primary mission was a complete and utter failure, she didn't say
aloud.

 

Christina held onto Ilf. Ilf had a death grip on Christina's
ribcage, tight enough to interfere with breathing. Rather than peel
Ilf away, Christina took shorter breaths and held onto Ilf. At least
here, in the shuttle, they could embrace without vacuum suits. She
murmured reassurance whenever she had the breath to do so.

For Kate, the best they could do was to splint and immobilize her
broken limbs inside her suit. To get the suit off, they'd have to
cut it apart - they might need it again, soon. Chris saw to her with
painkillers and water, and...

Chocolate.

Fully twenty tons of the cargo in module seven had been bricks of
dark chocolate, and perhaps another ton of prepared chocolate
confections. Still more was powdered cocoa and carob. Before coming
across to the shuttle, Sue had pilfered from the stocks. They
wouldn't starve; they might even gain weight before the air ran out.

Christina got Sue's attention. "Give her some," she gasped. Sue
forced a sliver of dark chocolate past Ilf's lips. After a bit,
Ilf's hold lessened, at least enough for Christina to breathe easily
again. She stroked Ilf's hair. In her ear, Ilf whispered hoarsely,
"More?" At Christina's request, Ilf was given more. Eventually, Ilf
shuddered and fell asleep.

When Sue noticed, she sighed. "She needed to sleep. Are you okay,
Christina?"

"I've been better," Christina admitted. "You were right about the
First. She does know a lot of dirty words."

Most of the women laughed or giggled. Ilf whimpered, and Christina
held a finger to her own lips. They'd listened to the message aloud
together. The First Officer had called the Captain everything but a
nice woman, with tears and anguish in every curse, for making her
leave the jettison crew behind. She'd ended with a promise to track
her down and kick her ass all the way to Desdmona, whatever
happened. When they'd listened together, there had been no laughter;
only tears.

With Kate, Ilf and Christina unable to assist, Susie (the other deck
officer - she was Sue Zephyr and answered to Sue Zee to avoid
confusion), Sue and Chris took inventory. The shuttle normally had
canned life support for three days for eight, and rations to match.
Six could add another day to that, and the chocolate would more than
stretch the rations. Kate was certain they could mate the shuttle to
the module and repressurize with stored air, tripling that duration
at least. Water would eventually be the limiting factor, and
although bulk goods shipped over interstellar distances were usually
dehydrated, or concentrated, to avoid the penalty of shipping mere
water, there might well be something they could filter or distill.

Once they were assured of another day of survival, Christina ordered
them all to sleep, with tranquilizers if needed. While they slept,
life support became the least of their problems.

 

Captain Gyra watched the remote feed from the Captain's chair. When
the shuttle that had been concealed from their notice in the radar
shadow of the module did not react to their proximity, Gyra had sent
both boarding shuttles to investigate. A hand-held camera against
the viewshield of the shuttle had let them see the six sleeping
women within. Shaped charges were placed on the shield and
elsewhere, to ensure the good behavior of the captives, and Celia B
had maneuvered closer.

Other screens showed the helmet cams of the boarding party inside
the module, taking inventory of the "booty." The enormous cargo of
chocolate and carob had already been noticed with wry amusement and
muttering. Chocolate is a valuable luxury item; the cacao plant
breeds true only on one planet in the known universe.

Gyra had overheard some of the muttering. "Pirates of the carob
bean" indeed! Now there was a name to strike terror into a Merchant
Skipper's heart! Besides, Gyra had never tasted chocolate.

By definition, any cargo worth the expense of hauling out to the
Siefert Limit and back was... had to be valuable. Knowledge was the
most valuable, and most easily shipped, but that had escaped with
the ship's data banks. Luxury goods, like the chocolate, liquors,
spices. Medicines which were too difficult to produce locally, or
derived from natural sources not available elsewhere. Vitamins in
which locally produced foods were deficient.

Machinery was valuable as working models to demonstrate a process,
unless it exceeded the technology of the buyer to reproduce. Seeds
for crops not available otherwise, or genetically engineered to
resist local factors. 

Heavy metals might be shipped to a metal-poor planet with no easily
accessible asteroid belt, or to one with too low a tech base as yet
to exploit them, but more often a corporation would move in to
provide asteroid industries as a service, training local labor to
eventually take over and buy back the original investment. Equipment
and support for such corporations might be commercially shipped as
well. That seemed to be the case here; a significant portion of the
cargo was vacuum suits in all sizes, with spare parts. Also vacuum
sealing equipment and sealing materials.

People; immigrants to provide manual labor where needed, or even
just to enlarge the gene pool. Skilled professionals or technicians
were nearly always welcome. Those had escaped with the merchant as
well. And with them, Gyra's real target. 

 

Christina hadn't heard the banging on the hull until Sue's hand
shook her awake. The brief elation she felt quickly dissipated when
she realized that the vacuum-suited figure outside the viewport was
not one of her people - the suit's design was subtly different - and
was making easily recognized gestures for get on the phone.

Complying was complicated by the fact that Ilf was still wrapped
around her. Christina instructed Susie to find their radio frequency
and put it on speaker with a pickup aimed toward her. Finding the
frequency was simple - it was the universal hailing frequency.

"...chant party in shuttle, please acknowledge.... Merchant party in
shuttle, please acknowledge...."

"This is C... Christina Indigo, commanding the shuttle Tenyari. We
are conducting salvage operations. Do you wish to assist us.?"

There was a long pause while the voice at the other end of the radio
link digested her outrageous statement. Then a different voice came
back with, "Affirmative, Tenyari, we are standing by to assist in
rescue and salvage operations as requested. How may we assist you?"

It was Christina's turn to pause. The sheer audacity, she thought.
But her people had needs. That came first. "Our most immediate need
is for medical attention to two of my crew. Do you have a medical
officer aboard?" 

"Affirmative, Tenyari. Are you able to maneuver?"

"That's affirmative also," Christina said. They would allow her to
maneuver? In any after-action report of piracy in which survivors
could be debriefed, the first thing the pirates had done was to
separate the crew from the controls of any vehicle, and especially
the ship's controls, as well as weapons. She was certain the person
outside her view shield could see the holster on each of their hips
(although Ilf's was empty). But that individual was removing the
shaped charge on the shield!

"Roger, Tenyari. If you will please come around... 160 degrees and
up 10 from your present attitude, you will find CNS Celia B standing
by. If you can take station 50 meters from the open shuttle bay, we
will bring you in for docking."

"Aye, aye, Celia B. Request you clear shuttle Tenyari of all
personnel for maneuvering on thrusters." The suited figure in the
view shield gave a thumbs up and pushed off gently. The tension
level in the shuttle noticeably decreased. Christina told the pilot,
"Chris, can you take it very easy? Sue, help Kate to the after
bulkhead; strap both of you to it and take care of her." She
whispered at the form clutching her, "Ilf, Chris is going to turn
the shuttle now, very slowly. You'll be okay, sweetheart. I've got
you." Ilf clung tighter, and Christina secured them as best she
could to a seat. 

Ilf whimpered again when Tenyari rotated in place, but Chris was
very gentle, using microbursts of thrust and counterthrust. Once
oriented on Celia B, they could see another shuttle, larger than
their own, just disappearing into the shuttle bay.

Chris used barely one meter per second squared of thrust to make the
kilometer journey; even so, there was groaning from both casualties.

 

Gyra had never been so grateful to hear a smart-ass response in her
life. Whoever Christina Indigo might be in her ship's company, Gyra
fully intended to formally and munificently praise her to her
captain, in person if possible. With her primary mission completely
blown, Captain Geordon could only look forward to being disavowed by
her government and forced to actually become the pirate that
appearances made her and Celia B out to be.

With her answer, Ms. Indigo had allowed Celia B to reclaim her honor
and her self-respect; to be the friendly vessel rendering aid and
succor to distressed spacemen. She and they could return home with
pride. If the officer in the shuttle could convince her captain to
go along, at any rate. More, the Distressed Sailors clause of the
Standard Rules of Spacefaring permitted the disbursement of shares
of salvage and rescue fees...

Gyra practically bounced out of her hook-and-eye slippers in
anticipation as the shuttle bay repressurized. Doctor Driadde and
her Physician's Assistants could barely conceal grins at the sight.
Like most of the crew, they were already enormously pleased and
relieved that their military status was reconfirmed and outlaw
status avoided. Some feigned otherwise, particularly those whose
senses of humor had run to the uttered "Arrrr" or "shiver me
timbers," but none of those was in this corridor.

The lock indicator finally turned blue. Captain Gyra led the medical
team through to greet their... guests.

The boat bay party was busily shucking and storing vacuum suits when
the shuttle door opened. Like most, it displaced inwards and slid
aside. First out was a young woman in uniform with no officer's
markings, gently pulling a tethered space suit. The arms and legs of
the space suit had been splinted. Gyra waved the doctor forward. 

The doctor's assistants carefully and expertly secured the suited
figure to a backboard while the doctor checked pulse, respiration,
eyes, and began gathering a medical history and recent medications.
As the assistants guided the backboard toward sick bay, the
physician gave her attention over to a young woman carried in an
older woman's arms, her face hidden in that woman's neck.

One of the nicest things about Doctor Driadde, besides her
competence, was her motherly bedside manner. Gyra smiled as the
Doctor coaxed the young woman - "her name is Ilf" - from the older
woman's arms into her own. Ilf latched onto the Doctor's neck as
tightly as she had her other bearer, and the doctor murmured
soothingly as she carried her off to follow the others.

Once Ilf's hair cleared the older woman's arms, Gyra's eyes widened
as four gold cuff rings came into view. They widened further as the
woman stripped the holstered sidearm from her side and offered it to
her. She cleared her throat. "No, thank you, Captain Indigo. I
already have one of my own. Unless an exchange of gifts is
appropriate in your culture?"

 

Christina felt her own eyes widen, even as she recognized the second
voice from the radio. Then she returned her sidearm unchecked to her
side. Curiouser and curiouser. "Not necessary," she replied. "But in
that case," she straightened, "request permission to come aboard."
Her hand raised in a salute. 

The other woman returned her salute and responded, "Permission
granted. Would you and your party," she indicated the others, "care
to accompany me to the wardroom? Or would you prefer sick bay
first?"

"Actually," Christina turned to her crew. "Pilot Draco, secure the
shuttle. Deck officers Zephyr and Viennes, assist the pilot, then
report to sick bay for check-up. I'm sure Captain... " "Geordon."
"Captain Geordon will provide an escort. Take along the chocolate -
Ms. Mackenne and Ilf need the comfort food. And give me the
assortment tin."

With the tin under one arm, Christina turned back to Captain
Geordon. "After you, Captain."

Christina followed the Captain of the Celia B into a lift, and
followed her lead to brace against movement as the lift first moved
to one side, then up. A warning tone alerted them to brace above and
to the opposite side as the lift arrived. They were disgorged into a
passageway which ran transversely from port to starboard. A door led
into a room with a table and ten comfortable-looking chairs.

Christina was about to speak but Captain Geordon held up a finger.
She turned to a console and did something, then turned back.
"Conversations in this room are normally recorded; now we can speak
freely."

"Very well," acknowledged Christina. "Speaking freely, then - what
the bloody hell are you up to?"

"Just now, I'm trying to save my ship and crew from wasting their
lives and careers by not turning them from a fairly decent military
unit into pirates. And I'm hoping to enlist your help."

"You..." Audacity was too mild a word! This woman had brass balls.
Big ones! "You actually mean to tell me, that you expect me to go
along with this charade? You order my ship to halt or 'be halted' I
think was the phrase, for 'boarding and inspection,' the usual
phrasing used by pirates - and you expect me to help you cover it
up?" Christina felt the heat in her face. "Where in bloody hell did
you get an idea like that!?"

"From you."

"From me?" Christina couldn't help it. She sputtered. She hated it
when she sputtered. This woman was turning her into a gibbering
idiot.

"You said, 'We are conducting salvage operations. Do you wish to
assist us?' That statement we got on record, plus the ones following
it." Captain Geordon spread her hands. "Every action from that point
on has been strictly in response to that statement. We are providing
assistance, as well as 'aid and succor to distressed spacemen,'
under the interstellar doctrines."

Christina felt herself on the edge of losing control. She sat. She
ripped open the tin of assorted chocolate confections, and speared
one at random. She popped it into her mouth.

She was aware of the 'mythical' properties of chocolate, but equally
aware that nothing in the chocolate could instantly transform her
emotions into calm, rational thoughts. She knew that the act of
sitting and chewing, her eyes closed, merely bought time for her to
compose herself. Nevertheless, the taste was heavenly; a sigh
escaped.
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