Sydney Chambers: Captain

Game over.

"Kommandant, the engines are not just off line, sir. They are gone. Destroyed."

Idiot, Vattermann responded. "Sheistkopf! What you say is impossible. There has to be one engine left —"

The Kommandant’s ranting was cut off by an explosion. Light began to filter back into the bridge, borne by the squad of TSM marines that had just disintegrated the control cabin’s rear bulkhead.

Hands on your heads, a voice rang out from one of the half-dozen armored figures. The six of them clomped forward, guns raised, magnetized boots compensating for the lack of gravity that continued to hobble the actions of Vattermann’s crew.

Nein! Vattermann attempted to leap toward the invaders, drawing a sidearm from his belt as he did so. Unsecured by gravity, though, the leap turned into a spinning launch which was summarily halted by a marine through the simple application of a rifle butt to Vattermann’s head as he soared into range.

Anyone else? The pirates’ discomfiture did not bother their captors in the slightest.

Books by B. T. Jaybush

Watch www.Psiwriters.info  for release dates

Stories of the Keepers:

Relics (PsiFinder1)

Forthcoming: Shadows (PsiFinder2) (Winter 2016);

Ruins (PsiFinder3) (Winter 2017)

Annie

The Seasons of Elsewhen:

The Summer Apprentice

Forthcoming: The Fall of Magic (Fall 2016);

The Winter Chill; The Spring of StormsSummer Redux

Amedia Arrival

Sydney Chambers:

Captain

Forthcoming: Station Senior Officer; First Officer;

Commodore; Admiral; more

SYDNEY CHAMBERS:

CAPTAIN

by B. T. Jaybush

SYDNEY CHAMBERS: CAPTAIN

Copyright © 2015

by Brian Jaybush and Timothy Jaybush

(writing as B. T. Jaybush)

All rights reserved

Visit Brian and Timothy on the web at

www.Psiwriters.info

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the authors.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to people or places, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ePub ISBN: 9781310989995

JUST BEFORE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Dramatis Personae

Outpost Station

Coming

About B. T. Jaybush

JUST BEFORE

Captain, we’ve got company. Looks like pirates.     

Captain Elton Ridgeway of the freighter Arega System Pride looked up sharply at the words, his eyes jumping so quickly to the large viewscreen that dominated the control room he managed to catch the fading glow of the other ship’s hyperspace window.

Shit, the captain muttered, almost to himself. This close to Outpost Station?

And closing fast, sir, Griswell responded, ignoring his captain’s verbalized question for the one that actually mattered.

A scowl pasted itself on his rugged features as Ridgeway rose from the command chair and moved to stand immediately behind the room’s other occupant, watch technician Blaine Griswell. His breathing grew ragged as Griswell adjusted the sensors’ focus, magnifying the pickup tenfold to show beyond any doubt that it was pirates headed their way.

Standard protocol?

Ridgeway stared a moment longer before answering, feeling a growl begin to grow in his throat. Quickly swallowing it, he settled for a large sigh. Yeah, standard protocol. Let the bastards have what they want, while we live to haul another day.

Griswell’s face became grim as he quickly began flipping switches and entering emergency codes into the ship’s systems. Ridgeway stepped back to his command chair and allowed a bit of the growl he’d swallowed earlier to accompany the sharp slap of his fist in the System Pride’s internal call button.

All hands, he announced, more than a little of the growl still in his voice. This is a pirate lockdown, repeat, immediate pirate lockdown. Button ’er up, boys and girls, then get yourselves into the hole. This is not a drill. We’ve only got five minutes before they start boarding us, folks, so move your butts.

With no need for further urging the crew began an orderly scramble to lock down the ship’s systems before heading for the vessel’s secure bolt hole — a design feature that had become standard on 16 Cygni freighters as pirate attacks grew from occasional nuisances to a way of life. Within three minutes the Arega System Pride was locked down, its corridors and holds unmanned. Once the pirates had taken what they wanted the crew would re-emerge to complete their interrupted voyage to Outpost Station.

CHAPTER ONE

All personnel, secure stations and make ready for FTL. Mr. Garvey, take us through, if you please.

Captain Sydney Chambers surreptitiously watched around her as the bridge crew of the Terran Space Military vessel Cahan Morrigan responded to her orders. A mixture of emotions played inside her as the various stations reported readiness for the transition to their assigned duty station: satisfaction, power, a touch of concern, a dab of pride — and more than a little resentment.

Morrigan was Sydney’s first command as a newly-promoted captain. Though far from the newest vessel in the fleet it was a sound ship: a Noble class light cruiser, the nimble maneuverability of its modest 80,000 displacement tons making up for what it lacked in sheer power and weaponry. Morrigan boasted a complement of three hundred — 250 crew plus a detachment of fifty marines, roughly the average for a full captain’s first command.

Sydney Chambers was no average captain, though. Whipcrack smart despite blonde locks that led some to underestimate her and with enough muscle on her five-foot-seven frame to require a slightly larger uniform size than one would expect, she had shown the first spark of greatness even before finishing her first year at TSM Academy. Quick-thinking, good instincts — and being in the right place at the right time — had allowed her to save several dozen cadet lives during a live-fire exercise that had gone horribly wrong. The achievement brought her an Academy commendation ... and the quiet attention of then-Sector Admiral Lord Steven Alexander, who had quietly caused Sydney to receive postings of amazing complexity and rapidly increasing responsibility once she’d graduated.

Her most recent posting, though, had not been of Alexander’s choosing. Assigned as first officer of a Dragon-class battle cruiser, the Tecumseh, a mere nine years after being commissioned, fate — and the ill-conceived actions of Tecumseh Captain Horace Steubing — had conspired to throw a monkey wrench in the admiral’s plans. While the ensuing investigation and courts-martial had exonerated Sydney as the only one of Steubing’s command staff uninvolved in the morass, she was none the less tainted by having been so close to the fiasco.

The failure galled Sydney all the more as she had been in line for the First Officer’s post on now-Fleet Admiral Alexander’s flagship, due to open up when the Admiral’s long-time number two, Commander Jason Sebring, retired. She would have been — by eight days — the youngest flag XO in fleet history.

Sitting now on the bridge of her first command, a brief image of Admiral Lord Alexander’s face flashed through her mind, the memory of her recent painful meeting with her mentor still as vivid as that of her morning coffee. She’d entered the admiral’s command office, aboard his flagship Shades of Glory, coming stiffly to attention and not allowing her eyes to focus on anything — especially not on the admiral’s face. It seemed to her that ages passed before Alexander had softly cleared his throat.

Stand easy, Commander. The worst is behind you.

Sydney had allowed herself a brief sigh as she’d relaxed into a parade rest. Alexander’s soft words bore the promise of at least forgiveness, if not the absolution she craved, for her failure to react more quickly to what had been happening around her on the Tecumseh.

Thank you, sir.

Alexander was silent another long moment, then loudly echoed his subordinate’s sigh. You don’t sound as though you fully believe me, Sydney.

I — she began, then bit off her words, struggling to retain her composure in what she still feared would be the end of her career. Your kindness is legendary, Admiral, so I certainly believe that you won’t hold the last several months against me. But I’m quite painfully aware that someone who has been through a court martial, even when found innocent, bears a heavy burden in attempting to prove their continued worth.

Hmm. Alexander shifted in his chair, closely regarding his still young protégé. I can’t exactly say that you’re wrong. All too many careers have been ended by being caught in an explosion not of their making. He drummed his fingers on his desk a moment. On the other hand, I’m sure you’re also aware that I have never been willing to waste talent. Particularly, when I’ve been working to nurture that talent for an entire decade.

Sydney felt a twinge of hope in her breast, despite her misgivings. Yes, sir.

Still. The admiral studied his junior for a long moment. You are aware that that I had been planning to appoint you as Commander Sebring’s replacement when he retires at the end of next month.

Sydney had to swallow a lump from her throat before answering. I am, sir.

I tell you that, Commander, the Admiral said in a soft voice, not to make you feel worse than you already do, but to indicate the level of esteem in which I hold your service. His demeanor and voice immediately took on a harder tone. The reality is, though, that in light of recent events — as you noted — the appointment is no longer politically possible.

I would expect not, sir. Sydney felt a twinge at the loss even as she spoke the words.

That being the case....

Alexander’s eyes took on a sort of glow as he picked up a data pad from one side of his desk and extending it to Sydney. It took a moment for her to realize she was supposed to take the pad; the admiral remained silent until she had accepted the device, then resumed her parade rest position without glancing at it.

While I cannot make you my flagship’s first officer, Alexander said, a slight smile tugging at his lips, "I can find you a posting which is both politically acceptable and, at the same time, worthy of your talents."

The admiral rose to his feet and visibly assumed his natural mantle of command. Sydney Chambers, you are hereby raised to the rank of Captain, he said formally. "You will report by six hundred hours tomorrow to the TSM Cahan Morrigan, there to place yourself in command of that vessel until further notice. The data pad you hold contains full details of your assignment, as well as all command codes and other information you will require as ranking officer of the Morrigan."

Sydney felt her eyes widen at the Admiral’s words; she had to actively work at not allowing her jaw to drop when Alexander extended his hand across the desk toward her.

Congratulations, Captain Chambers. Though you may find your post and your posting a bit less, ah ... he paused as though searching for a word, "... glamorous than what I originally had in mind for you, I trust you will continue to serve the Confederacy to the full extent of your abilities, as your career so far has led me to expect."

2 

Glamorous. Right. Exactly what this is not. Sydney dragged her thoughts back to the present as her executive officer, Commander Steve Garvey, prepared to execute Sydney’s order to transit through FTL.

All stations report secure, Captain, Garvey announced. Helm, give us the count.

Yes, sir, responded the shift helmsman, a husky lieutenant of Scandinavian heritage named Thor Hellespont. FTL in three ... two ... one  ...

The Cahan Morrigan’s bridge filled with the intense light and blurring of reality that was the hallmark of FTL transitions in smaller ships. There was little sense of time passing as the ship transited light years of distance before the side effects cleared and Sydney could again see the starfield which hyperspace transit blanked from the ship’s oversized main monitor. The intense silence that marked FTL transitions also vanished; the bridge was once more filled with the buzz of officers and technicians bustling about their required duties. Sydney glanced around at the dozen men and women busily attending to shepherding the Morrigan’s arrival on its assigned station at 16 Cygni. From her slightly raised position on the port side of the bridge, she found satisfaction in the smooth machine her crew had become in the brief weeks of her tenure. Good people, she reminded herself, working hard to prove themselves to their new captain.

Drive status? she finally asked, deciding to get the post-transition process underway.

Engines nominal, Captain. Her chief engineer, Lieutenant Hailey Kristoff, could be seen poring over the readouts at her position near the starboard perimeter of Morrigan’s bridge. FTL drive shut down is nominal, in-system drive is engaging by the book. The refit is living up to its promises.

Very good. Structural status?

Kristoff turned from her gages to briefly meet Sydney’s regard from across the room. Hull looks good, Captain. No concerns.

Sydney smiled briefly in response to the engineer’s assessment. She’d hadn’t initially been comfortable with a female engineering chief, never before having worked with one, but Hailey Kristoff’s performance during the weeks of shakedown and weapons drills that followed Morrigan’s release from drydock had left her impressed with the woman’s handling of the job. Maybe something else the admiral — or fate — needed me to learn, she told herself, savoring the wry tone of her own thoughts. Just because I’m not instinctively tech savvy doesn’t mean all women share that shortcoming.

She was about to turn her attention to navigation when an agitated voice spoke up from the main scan positions, adjacent to the engineer’s station.

Captain, we’ve got multiple vessels at mark seven-dot-five two. The speaker was one of the youngest postings on the bridge crew, scan tech Ensign Shannon McInerny, barely six months out of TSM technical training. Despite her youth, Sydney had yet to find even the smallest fault with her performance.

What sort of activity? There was a snap in the captain’s voice as McInerny’s report instantly triggered Sydney’s fighting instincts.

Initial readings indicate hostiles, Captain, McInerny affirmed, then hesitated a moment as she studied her screens. I’m seeing — yes, at least one of the vessels carries pirate markings.

Main screen. Sydney could feel her blood begin to roil in her veins. Her orders, when she’d examined them after leaving Admiral Lord Alexander’s presence, had referred to pirate activity in the two inhabited systems of 16 Cygni, A and B — but had said nothing to indicate the infestation had spread to Cyg-C, the dim red dwarf which serves as stellar anchor for Outpost Station. Apparently the reports on which those orders were based either trailed — or understated — the reality of the situation. As the distant specks that were ships appeared on the main bridge viewscreen, Sydney began wonder just how much worse the situation at 16 Cygni was than she had been led to believe.  

Magnify. Resolution on the monitor jumped ten times in response to her terse order, and the situation became clearer: a fat freighter, bearing what appeared to be the insignia of a local shipping line, wallowed alongside of a gaudily painted, ominous-looking attacker ... clearly a pirate, despite not actually bearing a Jolly Roger on its hull.

Damn, Sydney breathed, an instinctive reaction to encountering opposition so soon after arrival. She felt rather than heard a low growl rattle in her throat. Nice of them to roll out the welcome mat.

Definitely pirates, Captain. Garvey had moved to stand beside her command chair as soon as the situation had developed; now he consulted a hand-held computer tablet before saying more. The freighter’s markings show it belongs to Arega Shipping Systems — that’s one of the carriers based out of 16 Cygni B. Cyg-B is the one taking the lead in tech startups as well. Manufacturing as well as mining.

Sydney merely grunted. So are these pirates from the B system as well?

Her exec peered more closely at the main monitor, then rapidly scanned through several screens on his computer link. We don’t have any records of those pirate markings, Ma’am. Records do shows no reports of pirates working out of Cygni C, but I believe we need more current info in that regard.

Apparently so, the captain growled, then sat upright in a move that Garvey had come to recognize as ‘a decision has been reached.’

Mr. Womack, plot a fast intercept.

Yes, Captain. Ensign Stefan Womack, Morrigan’s navigator, began quickly entering commands into his console. What vector do you want to use?

We’re not close enough to pick out many details, Captain, Garvey said quietly, for her ears only. Reports on the various pirate armaments are sketchy.

Sydney considered for a moment, then shook her head. We’ve got surprise on our side, XO, and we might as well take advantage of it. Mr. Womack.

Yes, Ma’am!

I want to thread the needle, navigator. Set a course directly between the pirate and the freighter.

Aye, Captain.

Mr. Garvey, sound combat alert. Mr. Grelkin, uncap all weapons and stand by. Mr. Hellespont, in-system drive to flank speed.

Morrigan’s control room, always a busy place, suddenly seemed to take on a life and intensity of its own as the general lighting dimmed slightly and a klaxon sounded several times. The increase in tension was palpable, and seemed to deepen with each sounding of the combat alert. The usual buzz of conversation briefly rose to a din as all hands reported current status and settings to the Exec, their figures flowing both into his earpiece and onto his tablet screen. As Garvey stood silent beside his captain, studying the flow of information, a small smile of satisfaction settled onto his lips.

Looking good, Captain, he reported in a soft voice as the klaxons stilled and the noise level returned to near normal. Looks like all those drills we ran after the shakedown cruise have paid off.

I would hope so, Sydney replied. Before she could say more, though, Morrigan’s speed subtly changed as its sub-light engines kicked up to full.

ETA two minutes, Captain, Hellespont reported from his post at helm.

Understood, Mr. Hellespont, Sydney acknowledged, then turned back to Garvey. XO, scramble a team of marines into a drop-ship. It looks like there’s going to be pirates on board that freighter before we can get there. She gestured at Morrigan’s main viewscreen, which showed a small boarding vessel already heading toward the freighter from the pirate vessel. I want to have pest controllers right on their tails.

Garvey nodded. Yes, Ma’am, he said, then began punching commands into his pad even as he turned to walk over to his own station. Meanwhile, Sydney kept her eyes glued to the situation as it developed on the screen in front of her.

Mr. Grelkin!

Ma’am! The responder was a very young-looking ensign named Sean Grelkin. The ink on his Academy diploma was still wet, but his performance in the series of combat drills Sydney had orchestrated before heading for 16 Cygni had been impressive enough to win him a slot in the bridge-crew gunnery rotation. Now, despite his lack of experience, his voice and demeanor showed nothing but confidence as he awaited instructions from command.

Mr. Grelkin, have two medium-yield missiles primed and ready for ballistic deployment on my mark. Sydney said, allowing the slightest touch of irony into her voice as she added, I want to send that pirate cruiser a bit of a love pat as we sweep by.

Grelkin made two quick motions at his board, then nodded in satisfaction as two spots of green appeared in response. Locked and loaded, Captain, awaiting your order.

Ninety seconds, Hellespont reported from the helm.

Boarding contingent will be ready to drop in one minute, Captain, Garvey announced as he returned to his place immediately beside the captain.

Good. Sydney looked down at the left arm of her command chair, which boasted a small number of recessed buttons, and selected one with a quick jab. Captain to marine boarding party, she said, inclining her face slightly to the voice pickup condenser located near the button she’d just activated. Be aware that you may have a bumpy ride — we’re launching ordnance the same time we launch you. But get yourselves on board that freighter — I want prisoners. Captain out.

Garvey gave Sydney a side-long glance as she sat back in the chair. They’ll get it done, Captain, he quietly assured her.

Of course they will, she responded, adding a small chuckle for emphasis. But they’ll be more effective if they know about the missiles. Sydney’s attention was suddenly pulled back to the main viewscreen, and a frown darkened her face as she stared at the vessels poised there. They’re surprisingly well disciplined for pirates, she muttered after a few moments.

One minute, the helm reported.

Garvey’s eyes snapped to the viewscreen, and he stared at the tableau for a moment. What do you mean, Ma’am?

Hmm? It was a moment before Sydney realized she’d commented aloud. Ah. You can bet they’ve seen us by now, Mr. Garvey, but they haven’t flinched yet. I’ve never heard of pirates holding station when they see a Noble-class cruiser bearing down on them.

Huh. Garvey frowned as he also studied the pirate and freight ships. Neither have I, now that you mention it.

Hellespont piped up again from helm. Thirty seconds.

Sydney briefly shook her head; the time for speculation was past. OK everyone, here we go, she announced to the bridge at large. Mr. Grelkin, target their engines and weapons with all available guns; blast ’em if they so much as twitch. Otherwise, give them a general strafing as we pass by. Drop ship and missiles, launch on my mark —

Fifteen seconds.

Mr. Hellespont, give me a second-by second count, please.

Twelve, the helmsman immediately responded to his captain’s order. Eleven ... ten ... nine —

Drop ship, go!

Seven ... six ... five —

Missiles away, Mr. Grelkin. On your toes with those guns!

The pirate ship and the freighter appeared motionless in relation to each other, roughly a mile apart — far closer than ships of their respective sizes usually approached, but still more than enough clearance for the Morrigan to flash between them. At such close range even a barely competent gunnery officer could hardly miss, and Sean Grelkin was far better than that; even as Morrigan’s nose began to enter the zone between hunter and prey the two missiles homed on the pirate’s tail with unerring accuracy, quickly closing to detonation range.

Which was exactly when the pirate ship’s sub-light engines roared to life.

The blast of superheated plasma from those engines set off both missiles before their own detonators could engage and acted as a cushion against the missiles’ energies, turning them into booster rockets rather than engines of destruction. The ship leaped away much faster than its engines alone could have pushed it from a dead stop. Grelkin tried to strafe the jack-rabbiting vessel with Morrigan’s guns, but hitting a moving target is no easier in space than anywhere else; the pirate suffered little more than a hit or two before disappearing into a newly-formed hyper window.

But even while the pirate was vanishing in the flash of FTL, Morrigan rocked as fire from an unexpected source smashed into it. While Morrigan’s crew had been concentrating on their own approach, two small pirate vessels had lain in wait, hidden in a sensor shadow cast by the massive freighter they had intended to victimize. Now those two drew point-blank beads on the warship as its momentum carried it past the bulk of the freighter. The explosions sent hull plates flying and caused Morrigan to slew in its course. The pirates, apparently content with having stung the TSM ship, quickly scuttled to a safe distance and just as quickly disappeared into newly-formed hyper windows, all before Morrigan could swing its guns around to reply.

3 

Damage report!

Sydney’s voice snapped out like a whip over a team of horses. The crew responded with quick, decisive movements everywhere, all hands efficiently performing their tasks at double normal speed, but with little fuss. The only unusual noise was provided by the red alert klaxon, which had been automatically triggered by Morrigan’s sensors when they detected incoming ordnance. A slight hint of smoke and ozone lingered in the air, the result of several brief electrical surges and one small fire that the ship’s automatic suppression systems doused within seconds. On the main viewscreen, the escaping pirates’ hyper windows could just be seen to wink out after their brief existences.

All hands report safe, Captain, Comm Tech