given warning shots by a ship firing across our bow. They were hiding in the shadows from one of the Gas Giant moons and appeared on our sensors as we left orbit. They’re ordering us to stand down and prepare for boarding in the name of the United Systems Empire.”
He sat up suddenly in his bunk, dropping the comlink as the words sunk in.
“We’re being ordered to stand down, but I’ll be damned if I let a common privateer take us as a prize. We’re pushing for the grav gradient at max acceleration, and even though they have us boxed in against another of the moons, I’m countering their missiles so far. We’re calling for help and have made contact with an Indie Light Cruiser patrolling the system, except they’re too far away to be much assistance.”
Privateers were the bane of small ships like this, and flagged with a letter of marque giving them a license to act as supernumeraries for the Ukie navy, they were nothing but semi-legalised pirates. With the current system they were in between the ISA and Britannic Kingdom, it would be a prime hunting ground for ships like this to try and capture packet boats or unescorted merchants.
“All hands, prepare to repel boarders! Chiefs and Department Heads break open your arms lockers and equip your divisions. The privateer is a Gun-Brig, so be ready on all decks for incoming boarders. Mister Farquhar, please move your charges forward to the forefoot machinery space.”
Unstrapping from the bunk, he leapt down and opened the hatch. Farquhar was directing his other charges down the narrow access way and waved for him to join them , a gauss rifle slung over his back. Following the others, they made their way down a deck and into the tighter confines of the lower deck, pushing themselves against the walls as crew rushed past carrying carbines, pistols and cutlasses.
Even though he’d been through this same process in his early naval years, it never ceased to amaze him that this must have been what naval crew did during the ancient ages on Earth, when ships battled under sail on the high seas. Despite being two millennia in the future, history had a weird manner of repeating itself.
Entering the small, dimly lit machinery space he pushed to one side and leaned against the internal bulkh ead. The other four passengers were people he’d been aware of but never allowed to meet or speak. He watched as they looked around with frustrated expressions. Following them inside, he saw the Doctor holding her hand over her chest as if her heart was pumping at double speed, which considering her career choice, it probably was. Everybody were dressed in combat skins, except one of the men he placed as a Special Forces soldier, standing with a red-faced expression as all eyes fell upon him clad not in a combat skin, just his underclothes.
“Come on, Sammy, let us get out there and help the crew.” One of them uttered to Farquhar, waving his fist at the heavy hatch they’d entered through. “They might need us….”
It was the first time he’d seen the other passengers, and running his eyes over them surmised that all but one were former Special Forces personnel based on the build and body shapes. It was either that, or the thick, heavy necks and well muscled arms combined with watchful facial expressions and calculating glances that flittered everywhere to assess risk and escape routes had become the new body norm while he had been on Aran.
One of them was different, and studying the man he realised it was a face he’d seen some years back in the RNFC before it had been transformed into the RFC. With dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the medium height and slight figure was a pilot he’d seen in another squadron. He couldn’t place the name but as he stared at him he knew it would come soon.
Farquhar turned to the man that had spoken and made the familiar motion as if he was chewing gravel with his mouth. Glaring while his fat finger stabbed out to impact in the
He sat up suddenly in his bunk, dropping the comlink as the words sunk in.
“We’re being ordered to stand down, but I’ll be damned if I let a common privateer take us as a prize. We’re pushing for the grav gradient at max acceleration, and even though they have us boxed in against another of the moons, I’m countering their missiles so far. We’re calling for help and have made contact with an Indie Light Cruiser patrolling the system, except they’re too far away to be much assistance.”
Privateers were the bane of small ships like this, and flagged with a letter of marque giving them a license to act as supernumeraries for the Ukie navy, they were nothing but semi-legalised pirates. With the current system they were in between the ISA and Britannic Kingdom, it would be a prime hunting ground for ships like this to try and capture packet boats or unescorted merchants.
“All hands, prepare to repel boarders! Chiefs and Department Heads break open your arms lockers and equip your divisions. The privateer is a Gun-Brig, so be ready on all decks for incoming boarders. Mister Farquhar, please move your charges forward to the forefoot machinery space.”
Unstrapping from the bunk, he leapt down and opened the hatch. Farquhar was directing his other charges down the narrow access way and waved for him to join them , a gauss rifle slung over his back. Following the others, they made their way down a deck and into the tighter confines of the lower deck, pushing themselves against the walls as crew rushed past carrying carbines, pistols and cutlasses.
Even though he’d been through this same process in his early naval years, it never ceased to amaze him that this must have been what naval crew did during the ancient ages on Earth, when ships battled under sail on the high seas. Despite being two millennia in the future, history had a weird manner of repeating itself.
Entering the small, dimly lit machinery space he pushed to one side and leaned against the internal bulkh ead. The other four passengers were people he’d been aware of but never allowed to meet or speak. He watched as they looked around with frustrated expressions. Following them inside, he saw the Doctor holding her hand over her chest as if her heart was pumping at double speed, which considering her career choice, it probably was. Everybody were dressed in combat skins, except one of the men he placed as a Special Forces soldier, standing with a red-faced expression as all eyes fell upon him clad not in a combat skin, just his underclothes.
“Come on, Sammy, let us get out there and help the crew.” One of them uttered to Farquhar, waving his fist at the heavy hatch they’d entered through. “They might need us….”
It was the first time he’d seen the other passengers, and running his eyes over them surmised that all but one were former Special Forces personnel based on the build and body shapes. It was either that, or the thick, heavy necks and well muscled arms combined with watchful facial expressions and calculating glances that flittered everywhere to assess risk and escape routes had become the new body norm while he had been on Aran.
One of them was different, and studying the man he realised it was a face he’d seen some years back in the RNFC before it had been transformed into the RFC. With dark blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the medium height and slight figure was a pilot he’d seen in another squadron. He couldn’t place the name but as he stared at him he knew it would come soon.
Farquhar turned to the man that had spoken and made the familiar motion as if he was chewing gravel with his mouth. Glaring while his fat finger stabbed out to impact in the
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