Message-ID: <43303asstr$1057756205@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: PJcocoa@aol.com X-Original-Message-ID: <39.3af8bcc4.2c378422@aol.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 4 Jul 2003 21:30:10 EDT Subject: {ASSM} {Pirates} Pirates of the Carob Bean by Gary Jordan [2/3] (ScFi, nosex) Date: Wed, 9 Jul 2003 09:10:05 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, dennyw (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. <1st attachment begin> <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+