This is a science fiction story from Simon. He's used the 'Traveller' [TM] universe in which to set it, though all characters and details of places are original. He plans to 'file off the serial numbers' in due course, which isn't much. It's a long short story, broken into short chapters. As they are short, I'll post 2 at once. He makes no money from Traveller, and he is only playing in Marc Miller's sandbox until he does mess with the few copyright bits. So that's the necessary disclaimer.
Chapter 1
Sometimes I feel like a spider sitting
in the middle of my web; not that I've ever seen a spider, but that phrase was
part of the heritage of every person of Solomani descent. I often feel like a
spider when sitting in the small transparent-walled chamber in the data centre.
Computer banks surround me, banks made by different races, different species,
even one transported at hideous expense from the other side of the Imperium.
Made by that most enigmatic of aliens the Hivers, whose home-world lay beyond
the rimward-trailing frontier of imperial space. All these computers using
their differing circuits and architecture to answer in their different ways the
vital question; what is different, what is unusual, what is a threat?
That's my job. I spend my time
checking on things the computers flag up as anomalies, categorising potential
threats to this sector of the Imperium using a very slow, unreliable but useful
computer; a sentient brain. A sentient brain can have intuition, insights, in
short – hunches; and the Imperium relies on people like me getting them right.
The hunches I was trying, and failing, to get at the moment, concerned the
worst pirate menace to hit the Deneb Sector since the Civil War half a
millennium ago.
It was worrying.
I work for the Office of Calendar
Compliance, Statistical Division; I'm a civil servant, grade seven. The
importance of the job is not reflected in the pay grade, but then people who
want to get rich don't enter Imperial service, even the navy who still get
prize money. The job does entail being the recipient of a lot of pressure but
rarely as much as at present. I was getting pressure from five merchants
associations, Tukera Lines, the Imperial Navy, Duke Peter from the planet below
and even Archduke Norris himself! The nastiest pressure was coming from Tukera
Lines; the most icily polite, and scariest, from His Grace the Duke.
The vid-phone chimed.
I turned to answer and the screen lit
up with the image of Bwephulp my secretary.
"Yes?" I asked
"The shuttle carrying the Naval
Liaison Officer for your meeting is on final approach, Mr. Beecher" she
said, "would you like me to meet him?"
I thought for a moment, Bwephulp
wasn't wearing her microtube clothing to keep her skin damp, so she must be at
her home in the part of the complex with 85% plus humidity where Bwaps like her
feel most comfortable.
"No" I replied, "don't
bother to get suited up, I'll go" I said.
"Don't forget your pill"
chided Bwephulp gently.
"I won't" I replied. It was
a pity that my gopher hadn't returned yet from seeing her third uncle twice
decayed or whatever, or she could have met the Liaison Officer and taken him to
the briefing room.
oOoOo
I got to the docking bay just as the
shuttle was docking. I had checked the file of the officer I was to meet
earlier, Flag Lieutenant the Honourable Vincent Igadushta and met him as he
came out of the docking bay airlock.
I stuck out my hand; "Thank you
for coming Flag Lieutenant."
"You're welcome, Mr
Beecher," he replied. If there was the slightest stress on the Mr., I
didn't take offence; the navy was smarting badly over their failure to deal
with the pirates.
"Please come this way," I
gestured, leading the Lieutenant to the transit tube. As the Honourable Vincent
didn't want to make small talk I whiled away the journey to the secure briefing
room reserved for our meeting by studying him, I hoped, unobtrusively.
He was a tall man, taller than I with
the typical bronzed skin tone of mixed Vilani-Solomani ancestry hinted at by
his name. Handsome and athletic looking enough that I doubt he had any trouble
finding willing partners in whatever liberty port he stopped at. The immaculate
naval uniform the Lieutenant wore looked to be made of more luxurious fabric
than a strict interpretation of the regulations would allow. The uncompromising
solidity of the naval issue secure-comp he was carrying brought me back to the
purpose of our meeting.
oOoOo
As soon as the briefing room door
closed Lt. Igadushta and I, with almost identical movements, took out our
security scanners. After a shared wry grin we studied our respective displays
until we were both satisfied that the room was secure.
"Please sit down
Lieutenant," I gestured to a chair while sitting down across the table
from him.
"Tell me Mr. Beecher," he
said "what do you know about piracy?"
"I know that it isn't like the
tri-vids." I replied. I knew more than that, of course, but I reckoned
that I'd get more cooperation from Lt. Igadushta if I let him feel superior to
me.
"I'll begin by running through
the basics" said the Lieutenant in a rather patronising tone I thought.
"As you know," the
Lieutenant continued, "starships enter jump-space and can travel one to
six parsecs* in 168 hours plus or minus 10%."
I remembered my first venture into
jump-space on my way to scout training after induction. I was scared,
exhilarated and downright curious as to what would happen. Nothing happened.
The ship entered jump-space smoothly and indetectably; so much for youthful
enthusiasm. My attention continued to wander as Igadushta droned on. I didn't
bother to tell him that I'd served more than twenty years in the scouts before
being invalided out after my last mission. I took out and polished some of the
choicer memories of that time while the Lieutenant continued his lecture . . .
Occasional phrases of his interrupted
my reverie. Yes I knew that safe jumps had to be done at greater than 100
diameters from any object with significant mass and hence gravity. Only
sometimes Lieutenant the Honourable Igadushta, you have to jump when you can,
even if you are within 100 diameters, particularly when you are plunging
towards a gas giant planet and your manoeuvre drive has failed. Oh yes,
Lieutenant sometimes a star's 100 diameter limit can intersect the path your
ship takes through that weird mathematical conundrum that is jump space. And if
a solar flare distorts a star's 100 diameter bubble your ship can fall out of
jump-space unexpectedly with such a shock that the gravity dampers can fail,
you get a broken arm and your best friend gets a broken neck! Be careful by all
means Lieutenant.
"So you see, Mr Beecher"
continued Lt. Igadushta "with all the uncertainties of arrival it's
relatively simple for a pirate to lie in wait for a merchantman to arrive,
threaten with his superior weaponry, board and seize the cargo."
Ah, you're getting to the gist of the
matter now Lieutenant.
*A/N A parsec is approximately 3¼
light-years. Jump one travels one parsec, jump two two parsecs and so on up to
six parsecs.
Chapter 2
I thought it was about time I
indicated some glimmer of intellect before Lt. Igadushta patted me on the head
and gave me a dog biscuit. I briefly wondered if he did that to deserving
Vargr* ratings? Breaking into the Lieutenants monologue I said,
"I assume that unless the pirates
have stolen something to order for immediate delivery, they have to then take
their loot somewhere safe and store it until they find a buyer."
"Ah, yes, quite." Lt.
Igadushta replied, slightly flummoxed I thought, grinning to myself.
"And that is the problem" he
continued, "just where do they store their er loot; where do they repair
damage to their ships, we have confirmed at least twelve of them?"
"The Imperial Navy hasn't been
able to discover the pirate base." I made it a comment, not a question.
"No" said the Lieutenant,
and stopped. Good grief! A monosyllable, the navy must be smarting.
"Nor have the colonial navy
squadrons, nor the huscarle ships of the local nobles." He continued,
spreading the blame around pretty evenly, I thought. "Even the scouts drew
a blank." Thanks, I thought, leaving us till last, typical navy man.
"Refuelling isn't a problem for
the pirates. Pirate ships are invariably streamlined and they can skim the
atmospheres of gas-giant planets for hydrogen fuel." Lt. Igadusha was
lecturing again.
"It is confirmed then that it's
one group of pirates causing all the trouble?" I queried.
"Yes," Lt. Igadushta
replied. "They call themselves the Flayer Fleet"
"Rather melodramatic." I
said.
"It's a reference to a notorious
pirate on pre-spaceflight Vland." Said the Lieutenant. "He was known
as Gukiimersugin which translates roughly into Galanglic as The
Flayer. Several reports speak of the old Vilani pirate symbol the Flaming
Eye displayed on the pirate ships." Now that I didn't know.
The Lieutenant manipulated the holo
panel on his secure-comp and the meeting room table projected a holo-image of
the Domain of Deneb.
"Here" Lt. Igadushta said,
brightening a number of points in the display "are the locations of
confirmed Flaming Fleet attacks. These" he said, brightening others,
"are the locations of suspected Flaming Fleet attacks. Making an irregular
bulge pointing at the heart of Deneb sector." That confirmed my existing
data. A pity there isn't a faster than light equivalent of radio; information
from another sector is weeks out of date, even travelling by fast ship. Hell,
messages from the other side of the Imperium could be years out of date.
"There's no obvious centre to the
attacks" I observed.
"No" replied Lt. Igadushta
"And they extend to the edge of the Great Rift¹."
"The base could be anywhere in
that area" I said, "that's more than three dozen systems."
"It could equally be outside that
area" the Lieutenant pointed out. "Even inside the area there are
more than 200 planets and moons, many of them not adequately surveyed. That's
excluding large asteroids and Kuiper Belt Objects²."
"It's utterly impossible to
search all that." I said.
"Quite." The Lieutenant
said, with a rather tight smile.
"It's also rather fruitless to
chase individual pirate ships" continued Lt. Igadushta, "As they can
microjump to the outer system, refuel from a Kuiper Belt Object with fuel
processors and jump elsewhere. Unless the chasing ship gets a lucky hit and puts
the pirate's jump drive out of commission."
"Jumping into the outer system is
pretty chancy unless the pirates have a rutter." I pointed out
"A rutter?" the Lieutenant
looked puzzled.
"It's a slang term
Lieutenant." I said. "Naval and scout ships have huge data-banks with
all known astrogational information for their operational area in them; it's
one reason we use such huge and expensive computers."
"Yes, I know that" said Lt.
Igadushta sounding somewhat snippy. There, how do you like being lectured at,
you bastard.
"But merchant ships don't."
I replied. "They either purchase a pre-calculated jump course to the next
starport, only valid for a certain time or they use a cut-down astrogational
programme using limited data. That's why merchant ships plot such time consuming
courses, they have to play it safe. A rutter is a computer programme with
precise data on planetary movements enabling much more efficient course
plotting. There's a black market for them, but canny skippers, or pirates, keep
them secret."
"Unfortunately the Flayer Fleet
appears to have a most comprehensive rutter." Snapped the Lieutenant.
"Have any of the Flayer Fleet
been captured?" I thought it time to change the subject.
"Yes, the report arrived by the
last courier ship" said Lt. Igadushta. "A naval Q-ship disguised as
an ordinary merchant captured the pirate boarding party. The pirate ship
managed to escape though."
"What did the interrogation
reveal?" I asked. This could be a breakthrough.
"First of all, it revealed that
the pirates, hardened scum though they are, are more afraid of their leader,
he's called Admiral Gukiimersugin, than they are of us." Said the
Lieutenant. "It seems that the Admiral takes after his namesake, one
unfortunate who tried to betray the group was flayed alive and then shoved out
of the airlock!"
"Pleasant chap" I replied.
"All of the captured pirates had
been to the base, but none of them knew where it was," Lt. Igadushta
continued. "After intensive chemical interrogation all we could discover
was that the base was underground on an airless world, with gravity
substantially less than standard. The group itself is mixed; mostly human and
Vargr with a scattering of others, about 200 in total. We did get a full
listing of the pirate fleet."
"Excellent!" This would give
me a chance of checking the estimates my department had come up with.
Lt. Igadushta projected the pirate
fleet list above the table.
"Ah, good. We were certain of the
identities of eight ships and estimated that there might be about a
dozen." I said. The Lieutenant looked chagrined, the eight were bang on
the nose and there were a total of twelve ships.
A/N* Vargr are uplifted Terran
canines who were genetically manipulated in the far distant past by the
mysterious and extinct race the Ancients.
A/N¹ The Great Rift is an area of
very few stars cutting off the Domain of Deneb from the rest of the Third
Imperium. Spinward Marches
sector and Deneb sector are both part of the Domain of Deneb.
A/N² Our solar system's Kuiper Belt
lies outside the orbit of Neptune. Pluto and
Eris are among the unknown number of objects to be found there. I'm assuming
that just about all systems will have something similar.
