chest of the speaker, he hissed.
“Stow it, Harry, we’ll wait here until the skipper needs us. Mo, behind you there’s a storage locker with arms, open it up and we’ll do a weapons issue. Gibney, why aren’t you in your combat skin? Are you looking to get spaced or just decided to have a lobotomy while we were skimming fuel?”
Glancing at him, Farquhar said nothing and then turned his eyes upon the other pilot.
“ Mister Brilliant, do you know what a privateer of that type is armed with and how many fighting men it carries?”
Nodding, the other pilot opened his mouth to answer when Mo interrupted.
“ Sleeky… three cutlasses and a gladius , two Grails , and four snub pistols. I’ll take a Grail and the gladius .” The man announced, lowering his chosen weapons to the deck at his feet while the other Special Forces men tried to jostle him for access to the locker.
“Stand down!” Farquhar ordered. “ Gibney, you get nothing without a combat skin and you’re staying here for the duration. Mo, take your weapons and step aside for the others. Harry, take up the other Grail and a cutlass, Mister Brilliant take a snub pistol and cutlass, Montclare you get the same. Doc, I want you to take the remaining pistol. We’ll split the clips and mags between you evenly. I’ve got my own weapons, so between us we’ll make a handy reserve force.”
Jonty, that was the other pilot, he recalled. They used to call him ‘Mister Brilliant’ due to his cool-headed flying ability in the Fast Attack Boats and the many fighter kills racked up against the Franks and Ukies. The last he’d heard about the skilled, young officer was that he’d headed off to command a squadron of new Mosquito Mark IV Fast Attack Boats undertaking deep strike missions on the other side of the kingdom, however that had been years ago and he’d never heard of him since.
Collecting the weapons handed to him by the man called Harry, he checked the safety of the snub pistol and then verified the chamber was empty. Both dual clips were full of stun rounds, and he was handed another four clips with flechette rounds that he pushed into his thigh pockets after using two of them to replace the stun rounds for something more lethal.
“Okay, lads shut up for a minute and listen to Mister Brilliant.” Farquhar trumpeted through the small room as the noise of different weapons being checked or opened echoed within the space.
“Umm, okay then.” He began, clearing his throat as all attention was fixed on his face. “It’s a Gun-Brig, and they’re generally displacing between one to three thousand d-tons. Armed with at least four three-inch dual barrel gauss cannons, it should have one or two missile bays and assorted close-in defences. If it’s a smaller Brig, she can carry a crew of thirty, although the larger displacement vessels mean you could be facing fifty boarders. It all depends on the specific type and age, and how many crew they allocate to the boarding operation.”
There was silence at his words as the gathered men considered how outnumbered and outgunned they were aboard the Packet Boat.
“There are literally hundreds of designs for Brigs out there from most nations, but despite whoever built her, they’re going to be restricted in what they can do to take us, especially with an Indie ship in the system. If I was the enemy privateer, I would aim to assault our external hatches near engineering and the bridge, and that’s where you’ll find them… midships and aft airlocks.”
Farquhar nodded at the information. Grudgingly, he turned the gaze across to him. “Anything to add?”
“No, I think Jonty has covered everything. The only point I’d add is what you probably already know, those boarders will be armed with shotguns, swords and trying to cause as many casualties as quickly as possible. With an Indie ship in the system, they’ll only have a small window of time to board, capture and escape to a transition point.
“Stow it, Harry, we’ll wait here until the skipper needs us. Mo, behind you there’s a storage locker with arms, open it up and we’ll do a weapons issue. Gibney, why aren’t you in your combat skin? Are you looking to get spaced or just decided to have a lobotomy while we were skimming fuel?”
Glancing at him, Farquhar said nothing and then turned his eyes upon the other pilot.
“ Mister Brilliant, do you know what a privateer of that type is armed with and how many fighting men it carries?”
Nodding, the other pilot opened his mouth to answer when Mo interrupted.
“ Sleeky… three cutlasses and a gladius , two Grails , and four snub pistols. I’ll take a Grail and the gladius .” The man announced, lowering his chosen weapons to the deck at his feet while the other Special Forces men tried to jostle him for access to the locker.
“Stand down!” Farquhar ordered. “ Gibney, you get nothing without a combat skin and you’re staying here for the duration. Mo, take your weapons and step aside for the others. Harry, take up the other Grail and a cutlass, Mister Brilliant take a snub pistol and cutlass, Montclare you get the same. Doc, I want you to take the remaining pistol. We’ll split the clips and mags between you evenly. I’ve got my own weapons, so between us we’ll make a handy reserve force.”
Jonty, that was the other pilot, he recalled. They used to call him ‘Mister Brilliant’ due to his cool-headed flying ability in the Fast Attack Boats and the many fighter kills racked up against the Franks and Ukies. The last he’d heard about the skilled, young officer was that he’d headed off to command a squadron of new Mosquito Mark IV Fast Attack Boats undertaking deep strike missions on the other side of the kingdom, however that had been years ago and he’d never heard of him since.
Collecting the weapons handed to him by the man called Harry, he checked the safety of the snub pistol and then verified the chamber was empty. Both dual clips were full of stun rounds, and he was handed another four clips with flechette rounds that he pushed into his thigh pockets after using two of them to replace the stun rounds for something more lethal.
“Okay, lads shut up for a minute and listen to Mister Brilliant.” Farquhar trumpeted through the small room as the noise of different weapons being checked or opened echoed within the space.
“Umm, okay then.” He began, clearing his throat as all attention was fixed on his face. “It’s a Gun-Brig, and they’re generally displacing between one to three thousand d-tons. Armed with at least four three-inch dual barrel gauss cannons, it should have one or two missile bays and assorted close-in defences. If it’s a smaller Brig, she can carry a crew of thirty, although the larger displacement vessels mean you could be facing fifty boarders. It all depends on the specific type and age, and how many crew they allocate to the boarding operation.”
There was silence at his words as the gathered men considered how outnumbered and outgunned they were aboard the Packet Boat.
“There are literally hundreds of designs for Brigs out there from most nations, but despite whoever built her, they’re going to be restricted in what they can do to take us, especially with an Indie ship in the system. If I was the enemy privateer, I would aim to assault our external hatches near engineering and the bridge, and that’s where you’ll find them… midships and aft airlocks.”
Farquhar nodded at the information. Grudgingly, he turned the gaze across to him. “Anything to add?”
“No, I think Jonty has covered everything. The only point I’d add is what you probably already know, those boarders will be armed with shotguns, swords and trying to cause as many casualties as quickly as possible. With an Indie ship in the system, they’ll only have a small window of time to board, capture and escape to a transition point.
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