3 Day Later. July 19th, 2265. 17:00 CNS Waukesha – Captain’s Quarters
John was snoring loudly. It was a restless sleep, due in part due to stress but mostly because he was bored of searching the wrecks they had created. To make matters worse, there was at least two more days’ worth of work remaining too. Two agonizingly long, not to mention boring, days left.
At long last, John snored loudly enough to awaken him from his light slumber. He was both confused and annoyed as he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling briefly. He rolled over to see what time it was. Empty disappointment was the only thing he felt.
“Fucking hell,” John whispered before rolling over onto his stomach and closing his eyes.
His alarm wasn’t scheduled to ring for another thirty minutes. That was thirty more minutes that he didn’t not only didn’t want to be awake for but wanted to sleep. The universe was determined that he would not get what he wished for though. The bridge had contacted him.
“Captain, apologies for the early message, but we just received word of a derelict freighter nearby. A recent kill from the looks of it,” Petty Officer Third Class Becca Ulmer said, “We received no distress signal.”
John groaned loudly, “Likely smugglers. But someone is out there that we need to kill. Have the Salween and Kolyma escort the Cascade to investigate. The rest of us will continue here.”
“Understood.”
“Make sure those three ships know to transfer all sensor and log readings they recover from the derelict immediately.”
The connection ended. John rolled over onto his back and sighed. He was awake for good now. His superior genetics made his mind and body require less sleep, but getting six hours a night was an old habit that was hard to break from.
“Computer, lights at forty percent,” John groaned.
He pulled the covers off and swung his legs out of bed. Ironically, he quickly made his bed after he stood up. His body ached as John stretched. John looked in the mirror and rubbed a few scars on his chest. He continued to yawn before starting his morning routine.
Ten minutes later John was cleaned, dressed, and nearly ready to start the day. His genetics not only allowed him to eat a substantial amount of food and not gain any weight, but it also made his body hyper-efficient with what sustenance it did receive. Technically, he didn’t need to eat every day, but who could pass up waffles or pancakes for breakfast? Certainly not John.
John eschewed the officer’s mess for most meals. He wanted to talk to and get the pulse of his ship from the enlisted crew. Today would be different, he’d be reviewing data taken from the pirates. Any conversation wasn’t exactly high on his list of things to do.
To his surprise, the officer’s mess was relatively empty. A table in the corner had four officers from operations and engineering slowly picking away at their food. One of the security officers was almost falling asleep over his partially eaten plate in the middle of the room. Two of the Marine officers had just finished their meal and saluted John crisply once they noticed him.
John nodded to them as he strode forward. Moments later his plate was full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Sadly waffles, the superior doughy breakfast, were not available this morning. He shrugged internally and walked over to an empty table. He immediately began to both eat and read the contents on the screen of his data slate once his butt hit his seat.
He was pleasantly surprised to see that the Folly of Icarus had contacted the Red Moon’s Edge. The fragments of that conversation with their leader made it crystal clear that the captain of the Folly was very unhappy with the former Alliance soldiers turned pirates. What wasn’t clear was whether or not that amounted to a death wish.
Just then the data slate’s screen switched to communications. An internal message was being sent to him. John pressed the button before picking up a piece of bacon and eating it.
“Good morning, sir,” Becca said, “Lieutenant Davis reports her final target was destroyed along with several shuttle-sized pirate vessels. She’s requesting permission to investigate another merchant ship attack. This one is much older, several days old.”
“After their investigation is complete, they are to rendezvous with us. I’d like to be able to jump out of this system and move on within four to five days.”
“Understood, I’ll ask them to keep an open data link for anything that they discover.”
The comlink ended, and John shook his head and spoke quietly to himself, “If it’s not one thing it’s another.”
The rest of his breakfast was uneventful. John would head to his ready room to spend roughly a half hour before his shift started. He had hoped it’d be a simple, boring day, but knowing his luck he knew that was not meant to be.
02:30 CNS Waukesha – Boardroom
John was rubbing his temples. True to form, this day would be anything but boring. It took minutes to discover the attacks on the two merchant ships. The same ship attacked and killed the crew of both vessels.
“Your absolutely certain?” John asked.
“Positive,” Vanessa said.
Second Lieutenant Brook Vance nodded, “The ionization of exhaust gases was exactly the same. The modulation used on the lances was identical as well.”
“As if those two things alone weren’t enough to prove it was the Icarus,” Vanessa said, “There are the freighter sensor readings. They were crystal clear, it was the Folly beyond any shadow of a doubt.”
“What’s weird though is the communications. The captains of these two freighters were clearly aware of the Icarus. Didn’t take much reading between the lines that they did jobs for them,” Brook added.
John sighed, “Which is likely why they ended up dead. They either double-crossed them, or they fucked up. That means the former is a just result of an idiotic action and the latter is the risky outcome you receive when dealing with the underworld,” John groaned, “Fucking hell. Don’t suppose you detected any residual slip drive energies?”
“I didn’t but Brook did,” Vanessa said, “Which means they are long gone by now.”
“When you finish your inspections contact the local militia to have these vessels towed to the nearest station. Also, alert the owners of those vessels, or if they are dead then the outfit that had the most stuff being transported.”
“The militia was already informed. They called in a pair of tugs already for us,” Brook said, “We should be underway by tomorrow morning.”
“They are escorting the tugs now. It’s a twenty-hour trip out here to bumfuck nowhere,” Vanessa said, “That means we’re nearly six days away from a rendezvous.”
“Understood, good work and keep at it,” John said as he ended the conversation.
He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. After exhaling a couple of times, he stood up and walked over to the terminal. A priority notice was submitted. All systems nearby would be on alert for the Icarus, but working against them was the impossible size that each solar system was.
The doors opened and in walked Damian.
“Sir, we discovered something interesting.”
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John grinned as he watched Damian stride over to the terminal, “You’re probably going to tell me that we have confirmation that these freighters were hauling something for the group we just killed and betrayed the Icarus.”
Damian froze in place and slowly turned to face his Captain. John shook his head and started to chuckle to himself. Of course, everything was connected as it always is.
“Wonderful. Well, I got the cliff notes version of the story, I presume you have more detail to report?”
Damian nodded, “How did you know that?”
“Well, I’m smart for starters,” John grunted, “But generally speaking when shit hits the fan with me, shit really hits the fan. If one thing is connected, they all are.”
Damian cocked his head slightly as he walked over to the terminal and transferred the results from the data slate to the terminal, “The ITS Orion was contracted to pick up weapons, armor plates, and a class six freighter power core. They never showed up at the rendezvous point last month. Communications between the two ceased and the captain of the Orion seemingly didn’t care about not delivering the goods.”
John’s eyes bulged a little bit, “That’s a ballsy strategy.”
“Ended poorly for them. All hands were lost. Seems like the crew was all in on the scheme to defraud the Icarus.”
“Why? What would possess those dumbasses to do that?”
“Greed. Simple greed, sir,” Damian said, “The next freighter, ITS Cyclops, the situation was a bit different. They took on a similar contract, except they took delivery from the Icarus to an unknown party. They were inspected three times by three different local authorities. Then got shook down by the last batch of militia.”
“Inside job?”
Damian nodded, “Her first mate got the captain locked up. Well, you can guess what happened next.”
“First mate got the goods back, sold them to someone else. Icarus then re-entered the picture and ended them.”
“The former captain of the ship is highly upset that his ship was destroyed. At least his insurance was current. He’s going to need a good lawyer given who his last client was,” Damian handed John the data slate.
“Good work. What do we know about Red Moon’s Edge?”
“To put it simply, they were Alliance malcontents. Stole some new hulls and vanished into thin air for two years. They were kitting their ships out. Then they used the chaos that was the battle with the Alliance to muscle their way into the underworld.”
“Things didn’t go as planned, did they?”
Damian shook his head, “Didn’t take much to figure out they were from the Alliance, their ships were rejected prototype frigates and destroyers that they were testing. The pirates didn’t take kindly to their presence. But they had superior ships. Ironically enough, they thinned out the pirate presence in six different systems before coming down here. It was far enough removed from the Alliance that their origin didn’t seem to really bother the locals.”
John was skimming through the data slate, “They came over five years ago?”
“Closer to six years actually. The crazy thing too, the rumors about them escaping with a battle cruiser were real.”
“Son of a bitch,” John looked up with an exasperated look on his face.
“I’m not following, sir.”
“What system did they initially stash their shit in?”
“Beta Circini, sir. Why would that matter?”
“Fucking hell. There was a border incursion four years ago in that system according to Naval Intelligence. Reportedly by a small fleet of Alliance vessels that included a mothership of sorts. It was a smallish battle cruiser. The report was thought to be somewhat fanciful until three months later the silhouette of a pocket battlecruiser was reportedly jumping back into slip space. Alliance operatives appeared to have recovered that ship at least.”
Damian nodded, “They also recovered five additional frigates and three or four additional frigates. The records were not clear on the latter part. They operated in wolfpacks, which was highly effective at eliminating threats and overpowering freighters. No known base of operations was stored anywhere in the records we’ve gone over, this is supported by a push of theirs to create one in the outer asteroid belt here. They hadn’t enough time or credits to achieve that though.”
“Well, at least that’s one more pirate organization that is dead.”
“It seems that way, sir. We’ve got some things to finalize before the rest of the fleet arrives. Presuming there’s nothing unexpected found we ought to have the finalized report and intel sent to command.”
“Go ahead and forward all the collected information to Naval Intelligence. They’ll want the information on the idiots that betrayed the Icarus. The Red Moon’s Edge intel should at the very least close a chapter on a few investigations too.”
Damian nodded and then left the room. John sat in his chair and continued to read the data slate. The stupidity of the two freighter crews was astounding. Betraying ruthless individuals or organizations was an outsized risk most preferred to not do. John could list dozens of corporations that would make a better target for whatever scheme those idiots were trying to pull off. True, the Icarus were guilty of crimes, but they did a favor to society as a whole. That favor would not, could not, be repaid though.
“Why can nothing ever be easy?” John mused the question to himself.
06:30 CNS Waukesha – Starboard Fighter Bay
One of the advantages of being the captain of a starship is that if John wanted to go someplace, he could. Very few people onboard could legitimately send him away. Sure, the ship’s doctor could order him out of the sick bay, but that may be the only legitimate exception to John’s prerogative. Besides, John wanted to spend as little time as humanly possible in the sick bay.
The Marine contingent onboard the ship had taken over a small portion of the fighter bay to build a more comfortably sized exercise room. There was ample room to spare. As an added touch, all the gear was magnetized and wouldn’t make a mess during combat.
Sweat was dripping off John’s brow. He let out a loud exhale as he set the squat bar back in its holder. He ducked his head below the bar but continued to hold onto it. John looked up and exhaled a few more times before letting go of the bar.
“Jesus, I’m getting soft,” John said to himself.
He had just finished his fifth set of ten reps at three hundred seventy-five pounds. While the soft comment was debatable, he was genuinely winded at that last set. His quads were on fire. Despite that, it was time to put the weights away since there were others wanting to use them.
John made a mental note to acquire some more weights for their makeshift gym. There was a criminal lack of them here. The Marines that were there were appreciative when he began taking the forty-five pounders off the bar.
After they were put away, he made his way to the dumbbells and picked up a pair of seventy-five-pounders. He sat down on the small bench near the rack and began his next exercise. After his first set one of the Marines sitting next to him asked him a question.
“Captain, do you by any chance remember commanding a Sergeant Nielsen?”
John smiled as he nodded, “Erica? That I do. Damn good Marine that one.”
“Yeah, she is a real hardass. She’s my niece,” the Marine laughed, “Which is fucking weird since she’s older than me.”
John chuckled, “I would not have assumed that. Families can be funny like that.”
Lance Corporal Edward ‘Bubba’ Nielson then spoke more quietly, “She didn’t speak much of her last mission. Was it as bad as the rumors say?”
John shrugged as he dryly said, “Wouldn’t know. Didn’t pay attention to the rumors.”
John leaned back and began another set. Bubba didn’t know how to handle that answer. But he persisted.
“She said she saw some shit. I was just wondering if that’s something we’re going to run into.”
John finished his set and dropped the dumbbells to the ground and looked over at the young man, “Bubba if we get into a mess of similar proportions that means I have failed spectacularly at not only my job but everyone else on this ship. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“War isn’t as glorious as they say.”
John shook his head, “No, it most certainly is not. It’s always an ugly affair. To be honest, we should never wish for one.”
“Better to be ready for one than not, eh?”
John picked up the dumbbells and answered before starting his next set, “That it is.”
Bubba hurriedly did his set and asked John one more question, “I don’t suppose you can talk about what went down?”
John stood up and set the dumbbells back in their rack, “Even if I could, I’m not sure I’d want to. But we’ve been ordered to not speak on that matter. Going to follow that order.”
Bart then looked over at John, “She made it sound like you were a bit liberal with orders. Did you decide to follow that order, sir?”
“If you got the debrief I did from the brass then you’d keep your mouth shut on this topic. Sooner we forget about that shit show the better,” John said as he walked over to grab a towel, “When we dock next, I’m going to either have the requisition officer onboard whatever station we stop at get us some more fucking plates for this place or I’m going to find and buy some at a sporting goods store.”
“You sure that…” Bart was interrupted.
“Yes, quite sure. If I have to spend my own pocket money I’m going to. This is too nice a setup to be this criminally under geared,” John said as he began wiping his head off.
“That would be awesome, sir,” Bart smiled then looked his Captain in the eyes, “What makes those pirates in the Icarus so different? All you Navy types, well except for you, seem to change their mood when talking about that ship. A pirate is a pirate, no?”
John took a drink of water from his canteen and then shook his head, “Just like how Marines and Navy are different, so too are pirates. The Icarus? They come off more like the mafia to me. They don’t target commercial traffic indiscriminately, perhaps they did the in the past but for the last thirty years they certainly haven’t.”
“Does that change how we engage them?” Bubba asked from behind John.
“Probably not. But thinking like they are your bargain bin pirates isn’t going to get us across the finish line. They operate under a very, very specific code. They adhere to it brutally.”
“The civvies that they spaced weren’t innocent,” Bart said but then let the next word hang, “However…”
John shook his head, “They aren’t judge, jury, or executioner. We can’t let them play ball like that. Even if they prevent certain pirate behavior from happening.”
“Got any ideas on taking them down?” Bart smiled.
“Right now? Not a fucking clue,” John laughed, “With any luck though, who knows?”
The frank assessment surprised the Marines within earshot. But there was a quiet confidence behind those words. And in his physical presence as well. The answers may not be apparent or available, but this was a man that all presents felt could make the impossible possible. Perhaps it was no longer a matter of if, but when the cosmic scales would tip in their favor.