[OF] The Pirate and the Slave

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[OF] The Pirate and the Slave

Postby Scooter » Sun Mar 27, 2016 12:39 pm

Jack “The Dragon” Draegan stood facing the transparent osmium viewport; his hands clasped behind his back, watching the shifting colors of gas and dust, as well as the occasional electrical discharge. Sitting just inside the Celindi Nebula, the Thunderchild was making repairs; her recent encounter with a Solarian heavy destroyer having knocked her about after her last raid. But it had been a profitable haul so far. Three prize crews were on their way back to Cinder Station, with transports loaded with precious works of art from the home of the Solarian Entente, much needed supplies from the Ceti Empire, and the random merchantman who refused to sail in convoy. Some wag on Terra was once heard remarking that the Acamar Sector belonged only to the Dragon...and the dead.

“Captain,” one of the bridge crewmen interrupted Jack’s musings. “Sensor drone’s picked up a shadow in hyperlight approaching.”

Moving back to his station, Jack hit the intercom stud. “Engine room. Padraig, what’s our status?”

The Irishman’s burr was thick as he replied. “Hyper and sublight engines are online. Portside turret’s jammed but good; that damned destroyer managed to cripple the power conduits during their attack but the other two cannons and torpedo bay are operating at one hundred percent. Energy shields and inertial compensators are stable.”

“Bring us to action stations and plot an intercept course.” Jack settled into his seat, as the klaxon sounded throughout the ship, the blast door behind him hissing open with helmsman Malaerys Taelennis and tactical officer Tarleton Clemens jogging through, relieving their junior watchstanders. “Mala, bring us to the nebula boundary.”

Thunderchild’s main and two secondary engines ignited, driving the cruiser into the shallows of the nebula. Tarleton began calling out sensor data, “Sensor probe’s reporting tachyon emission increase. Hyperspace shadow closing on probe position. Bremsstrahlung radiation release. Target is subluminal and cruising to next transit point.”

“Intercept, and roll the ship relative so that the dorsal and starboard batteries are in engagement.”

The ship broke through the nebula boundary, phased plasma cannons firing on the ambushed target, pummeling her shields. The targeted vessel returned fire, peppering the Thunderchild’s shields into the visible spectrum, while trying to run on her sublight engines, her navigator throwing the freighter through an evasive pattern.

“Captain, target’s silhouette matches that of a Seidran slave transport, her IFF squawking an ident for Rhapsody, a free trader out of Breshan. Target’s returning fire, and attempting evade. Her engine output’s approaching known danger limits,” Tarleton reported, almost as an afterthought. “They’re attempting a distress call.”

“That’s clearly no free trader. No, they’re slavers, but this is far from their usual stomping grounds,” Jack mused. “We’re at least 40 light years from Alzirr. Of course, they could be headed to the Novus Imperium Romanum. Gods know they always need slaves for their pleasure centers. And, well, we’re just going to take that away from them with this ship…” Jack was interrupted by Tarelton.

“They’ve suffered an engineering casualty. Sublight engines are down, ship’s spinning out of control.”

“Bring the grapplers online, stand by boarders.” Jack stood, tucking his sword into his belt, before hitting the communications stud. “Rhapsody, this is the Dragon, aboard Thunderchild. Surrender your vessel and prepare to be boarded. Your engines are disabled, and you’ve no way to escape.”

“Grapplers online, matching rotation and velocity.” The stars outside the viewport began to tumble as the ship matched the slaver’s spin. There was a reverberating THUMP from behind the bridge as the airlocks mated. “We have hard dock.”

Alu lu'vith biu cretok, Tagnik'zur!” The Seidran slaver replied over the communications link.

Jack shrugged and switched channels. “JB, we have a hard seal, hack their controls. I’ll be with you presently.” Moving to the blast doors at the rear of the bridge, he called back. “Mala, the ship is yours. Keep us hard docked, and keep an eye out for any patrols. I know we’re far from the normal trade routes, but remember that Arachnid-class destroyer we stumbled upon during our last raid.” The pinkette former Solarian clone acknowledged as Jack stepped through the blast doors.

The light whine of a plasma pistol could be heard coming through the mated airlocks, as Jack approached them, followed by several heavier barks from plasma rifles. Crossing the threshold, his nose was assaulted by the exotic, spicy perfumes that the Seidran women favored. Motioning to the squad of heavily armed troops that entered the Rhapsody with him to follow, he moved towards the bridge of the ship, his sword in hand. Sounds of combat echoed through the corridors of the slaver- blaster fire ricocheting down the corridors, the clash of sword against sword.

“Breaching charges,” Jack ordered, as he and his squad arrived at the sealed blast doors leading to the bridge. One explosion later, Jack and his team were storming the bridge, behind a hail of blaster fire. The overweight Seidran captain fell during the exchange of fire, a blaster bolt drilled through his forehead. Two of the more junior pirates dragged the corpse away, and threw it on the pile at the back of the bridge.

Nindol zhah l'Tagnik'zur. Dosst venta'kyorl zhah elghinyrr. Fre'sla harl lu'vrine'winith malarin,” Jack said over the ship’s intercom. Crew of the Thunderchild, quarter will be given to any who surrender. Contact the bridge as practicable.” He looked at one of the team that accompanied him. “Secure the bridge; have a detail deal with the mess back there, and contact Padraig to get ship’s engines online. I’m going to check the captain’s suite.”

Jack made his way aft and down a companionway, his sword at the ready. Just because he’d called on the slaver crew to surrender didn’t mean that they’d automatically just drop their arms and give up. Indeed, sounds of sporadic combat still echoed through the corridors of the vessel. Although a pirate, Jack Draegan didn’t have a fine appreciation for slavers and had standing orders that the officers of any slave ship were to take a step out of an airlock and a long walk into eternity, should they be captured alive.

As he moved off the ladder, Jack raised his sword in a guard position as he was alerted to his right by a noise. A Seidran female, and not a bad looker the analytical portion of his mind appraised, was leaping through the air from a cross corridor at him, dagger held high in her left hand.

Jack pivoted; his sword arm coming up, blocking her dagger. Balling his left hand into a fist, Jack pivot into a cross, slugging the brunette flying towards him..
His assailant flew into the bulkhead and crumpled to the deck, the dagger dropping out of her limp hand.

“Captain, are you alright?” One of Thunderchild’s assault crew asked after rushing down the ladder.

“Yeah, I’m fine; she tried to stick me. Have her taken to a med bay,” Jack said, grounding the tip of his blade on the deck.

* * *

“What’s our status,” Jack asked as he reentered the bridge of Thunderchild.

“Padraig’s looked over the engineering section of the Rhapsody; he’s on the record stating that it’s pretty much scrap iron. Supercargo’s got his staff securing the plunder in the hold. Casualties have been evac’d to the med bays for treatment,” Mala said, as she moved out of Jack’s seat. “JB’s got the prisoners who surrendered secured.”

“For what it’s worth. I doubt there’ll be much ransom for them. Any response to the Rhapsody’s distress signal?”

“Nothing indicating in hyperspace at a range of 10 standard hours. Some distortion out to 20 hours, but not enough to discern if they’re coming this way or just traffic in the hyperlanes,” Tarelton reported.

Jack nodded. Whatever he was going to say was cut off by the ship’s intercom. “Bridge, this is Medbay. One of those ‘ladies’ from the ship bloody well won’t leave me alone. She insists that she needs to look…

Another, more cultured and feminine voice interrupted. “Mr. Fuchs, you simply cannot treat a head injury with actemfenac meproprosyn, particularly on a Seidran. You’ll drive her blood pressure down to critical levels. Put away your leeches and butcher's’ knives, you drunkard. I’ve a patient to take care of.

“Doctor Fuchs,” Jack said, “perhaps it would be best if you listened to her. Seems like she knows what she’s doing.” He closed the channel when he saw Mala signalling him.

“All boarding parties are aboard. Demolition charges have been set and primed. We’re ready to get back underway.”

“Good. Set course for Skjaldbaka. Let’s see what we can fetch for our booty and our prisoners. Standby jump engines.”
Mala quickly typed in the coordinates for the notorious pirates’ haven, then retrieved and inserted the jump key. “Coordinates laid in, jump engines standing by.”

“Execute.” As Mala twisted the key, a massive rip in local space-time opened a portal into a dimension of Escher space. The massive engines propelled the cruiser into this bedlam of energies, flipping off Dr. Einstein and sending the ship into a realm where time and distance aren’t necessarily relative in space.

As the Thunderchild’s jump portal closed with a metaphorical “POP”, friendly blinking red lights on the charges set throughout the Rhapsody looked at their timers and decided now was a perfectly good time to go get a nice cup of tea. The slave ship, however, became a massively actinic ball of white light and noise, leaving only tiny microfragments floating in the void.
Oh are you from Wales ?? Do you know a fella named Jonah ?? He used to live in whales for a while.

— Groucho Marx
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Re: [OF] The Pirate and the Slave Chapter 2

Postby Scooter » Sun Jun 12, 2016 8:07 am

Hyperspace
Known by a variety of names like n-Space or Escher space, hyperspace is an alternate dimension that allows all ships to travel faster than light. The typical starship entering hyperspace can cross a sector (20 lightyears) in 446 hours. Combat grade starships, such as cruisers and battleships, or high speed couriers can cross a sector in 170 hours or less.

Larger ships can independently enter hyperspace with their own generator, which allows smaller ships, like fighters, shuttles, and assault transports, to jump without the use of a transit point. Use of a transit point allows jump generator-equipped ships to cross into hyperspace without straining their own engines or being out of communication during the post-jump electromagnetic pulse and reset.

Hyperspace has unique properties. Ships traveling within it can be detected by their mass shadow- the larger the shadow, the further it can be detected- just as ships within can detect ships in normal space. Astronomical bodies- from asteroid fields to singularities- are detectable while traveling within hyperspace. The predominant theory is that hyperspace follows the fabric of “normal” space-time, one that most hyperspatial physicists subscribe to although research continues.
Another hyperspatial property are the currents found within it. Much research has gone into the study of these currents, their cause, their eventual destination. Never has ship that suffered an engineering casualty in hyperspace and lost has been recovered. Freelance tramp freighter captains delight in regaling their passengers with tales of ghost ships drifting lost between transit points.

* * *

“Captain Draegan, a moment of your time,” Cornelius Fuchs called down the corridor. The ship’s doctor caught up to Jack, even as he was making his way to the medbay while making his rounds throughout the ship. “Captain, that...that...doctor has completely taken over my medical facilities. She’s…”

“She’s what?”

“She’s treating patients. She’s actually treating patients.” Fuchs complained, as the two officers continued to walk down the corridor. “And she...she cut off my liquor!”

“Cornie, I’ve seen how you treat my crew. Great Maker, you prescribe ibuprofen and water for most injuries. Your loblolly boys do more surgery than you do. And it’s about time someone cut your ration. I have no need for a drunkard, especially onboard this vessel. It was a mistake for me to take you on.”

“But Captain!”

Jack wheeled, grabbing the doctor by the lapels of his lab coat and slammed him up against the bulkhead. “Be glad that I don’t space you here and now,” he growled. “Your protests are duly noted, Doctor, but when we get to Skjaldbaka you’re getting off this ship. I don’t care where you go, or what you do afterwards, but I’ve no need for a do nothing drunkard of a ship’s doctor. You are hereby confined to your quarters until we get there.” Jack let Cornelius drop to the deck.

“Your contract stipulates that you work, you get your portion of the booty. Because you’ve not done anything with your patients, you’ve violated your contract, so you get nothing. Good day, sir.” Jack spun on his heel, leaving the now terminated doctor to gape.


Entering the medbay, Jack had his senses thrown into an Infernoesque scene. Yes, there was the background beeping of the patient monitors above each bed, and the ever present hum of the ship’s systems. There were also the cries, moans, and outright screaming in pain and blasphemes. And the smells. Blaster burns and plasma coolant burns, charred flesh and charred uniforms, vomit and evacuated bowels. 35 men and women crammed into a bay that would normally hold six on a bad day. The only thing that didn’t turn this into a Hieronymus Bosch painting of the damned was the normal lighting. He gave those conscious members of his crew encouraging words as he walked past them.

“If you’re injured, see Mr. Frie. If you’re sick, come back tomorrow,” said a resigned voice who was paying more attention to the large bank of monitors than who was entering the bay.

“And if I’m interesting in what the butcher’s bill is, Doctor?” Jack asked, his arms folded in front of his chest. “Or the Seidran slave who tried to stick a knife in me earlier ? Or where your loblolly boys are?”

“I didn’t hear you come in, Captain. Misters Frie and Lawree are busy in surgery. I found them to be much more competent than that drunk Fuchs, and impressive stitching as well. I apologize for not introducing myself after taking over your medbay; I am called Timir.” The redheaded Ljósálfar said, as she spun around.

Jack arched an eyebrow. “I know the Álfar tend to be insular and not leave any of your systems in the Al Nair sector. How did you come to be on the other side of the Entente, and aboard a slaver at that?”

“My late husband and I were returning from a medical conference on Zaycarro. Our passenger liner was set upon by Seidran pirates. He was killed during the attack; I was not, obviously. I was captured, then traded to another crew bound for Nova Romae- the ones that you ambushed.”

“Well then after we drop our...cargo, I’d be more than willing to return you to the Álfar.”

“Captain, don’t bother. Our family has not posted any sort of ransom; it’s just not the Álfarn way. Besides, you need a competent doctor. Between treating those whom that idiot Fuchs laid hands on and talking with the staff here, it seems more logical to remain aboard. In my previous life, I was a trauma specialist at Asar General Hospital, on Sholond. I believe I can assist you and your crew.”

“You’re hired. When we get to Skjaldbaka, you’ll be able to draw on the ship’s credit to resupply the medbay to suit your needs.”

“Thank you, Captain. I know we don’t need 100 gross of ibuprofen. We do, however, need trauma supplies, as well as standard medical supplies. I’ll have a list drawn up before we get there.” Timir made a quick note on an electronic slate. “Meralle is conscious. Would you like to talk to her?”

“Who?”

“Meralle, the slave that you slugged into the bulkhead after she tried to stick you.”

Jack nodded, and moved away from the jamb he was leaning against. Timir stood and led her new boss into an iso-room. “Captain Draegan, Meralle. Meralle, Captain Jack Draegan. Please try not to kill each other. It would be a dark stain on my record of treatment aboard this vessel.”

Taking a moment after Timir, Jack sized up his would-be assailant. She was sitting up, pouting, and the t-shirt that the medical staff has dressed her in did a hell of a lot more at emphasizing her curves than the slave rig she wore when she attacked him in the corridor. “So, why,” he asked in Seidran.

“Why what,” she replied acerbically.

“Why did you try to stick me with a knife?”

“That’s not important! You knocked me into the bulkhead,” she countered.

“Bullshit,’ Jack growled. “I was defending myself from a crazy chick trying to stick a 30 centimeter chunk of steel inside me.”

“Crazy? You just captured my ship and probably had murdered my owner! What do you think I was going to do, sit back and let a bunch of scoundrels capture run rampant?”

“Well, yes. Remember, I’m pirate. Besides, it’s what we do, and your captain made the mistake of entering Acamar Sector without escort.”

Timir entered again. “Captain, I could hear you and Meralle arguing in my office.” She made a couple of taps on the slate she was reviewing. “Meralle, I’ve run the last test and I don’t foresee any recurring complications with your concussion. However, I’d rather not have you placed with the cargo, or in common berthing. Therefore, you’ll be berthing with Captain Draegan.”

Both pirate and former slave looked at Timir. “What do you mean she’s/I’m berthing with me/him,” they both asked at the same time.

“What I mean Captain, Meralle, is that the officers’ berthings are double occupancy, and full. There are no free berths outside of the ones used for valuable ransoms. A Seidran female in the crew berths would cause significant problems to the morale of certain members of the crew, and in fact I’ve already begun hearing complaints about our ‘cargo’ from Quartermaster Haddad. Therefore, I can’t berth her there. All that remains is for you, Meralle, to berth with you, Captain.” The new ship’s doctor resumed reviewing the tablet she held in her hands.

“Really,” Jack commented drolly.

Meralle looked over at the man in black. “You think I like this any more than you do?”

“Of course I don’t. But it seems this is what we’re stuck with.” Jack sighed. “And each other for now.”

Meralle hopped of the exam table and slid on a pair of scrub pants. “You can turn around now,” she said. “I never thought I’d see a pirate who’s embarrassed over a little skin.”

“I’m not,” Jack replied. “I just wanted to give you some privacy. Considering you probably didn’t get much.” Meralle snorted, leaving the medbay.

“Captain,” Timir said, before Jack left the medbay, “you also need to understand something.”

“What,” he asked, noting that Meralle was down the corridor, looking annoyed.

“Seidran are a power-based patriarchal society, which is also why they...sell their excess women. Your killing of Meralle’s former owner has defined you as taking possession of her.”

“Really,” Jack said, dryly. “Sure didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago.”

Timir nodded. “Do not let that earlier display fool you, she is a most remarkable woman and understands you own her now; I believe her arguing with you was a way to feel you out.”

Jack left the medbay, just shaking his head. “I’ll never understand women.” He nodded to Meralle. “C’mon and follow me.” They climbed up four decks, with Jack gruffly pointing out what was on each deck.

Jack’s cabin was a functional mess. Starcharts littered the deck, the main table was covered with paperwork- logbook, purser's bills, engineering reports, damage reports, expenditure reports from the ship’s departments. One bulkhead had several swords below a resin cast dragon in flight. He shrugged as if to say “I wasn’t expecting company”. “Sleeping cabin’s through that door there,” he said, pointing at one door. “Head’s in there,” pointing at another. “Bed’s yours. I’m sleeping on the couch.” The ship’s chronometer chimed two bells in the middle watch. “Go get some real sleep. I’ll have my steward draw you something more appropriate for shipboard wear than scrubs. Or that outfit you had on yesterday.”

“You’re not joining me?”

“What part of ‘I’m sleeping on the couch’, didn’t you understand?” Jack growled irritably, throwing a blanket and pillow on the book covered couch.

“Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, Captain,” Meralle said, “but wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your sleeping cabin? Yes, with me, but it’s not like I’m asking you to ‘sleep’ with me, just sleep with me.”

Jack threw the books that covered the couch on the deck. “Look, I’m tired, I’m irritable, we’ve both had an extremely long day. I’m going to sleep here. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

* * *

Meralle lay in Jack’s bed, dozing, exhausted from the previous day’s activity. It was, for her, an unfamiliar bed with an unfamiliar ceiling, in an unfamiliar ship. While she was more than well aware of her position in life, having spent most of her 20 sols bouncing from one owner to another until Vaka came to own her 3 sols ago. That ended yesterday with his death.

Her sleep hadn’t, therefore, been the most restful, waking every half hour or so, with the chiming of the ship’s bell. She’d heard the door to Jack’s great cabin slide open, the not so quiet footfalls crossing the room, before the door to the sleeping cabin opened. A rough, masculine Scots burr bidding the captain to wake and that it was three bells in the morning watch.

“He’s not here,” Meralle all but shouted, as she sat up, pulling the blanket up with her. She’s made a resolution, before climbing into bed last night, that only one man would see nude body and it wasn’t going to be some aide.

Jack staggered into his sleeping cabin, rubbing away the gritty eye boogers, still half asleep. “I’m awake, Ian. What’s the word from the bridge?”

“Mr McKenna’s compliments, Captain; still no sign of pursuit. We’re 120 hours out from Skjaldbaka.”

“Good, good. Coffee, Ian, lots of it.”

“And for the...young lady,” Ian asked, diplomatically.

“Ah…” Jack sputtered, but Meralle replied. “Tea, if you please. And something to eat. I haven’t had anything since yesterday morning.” She still had the blanket drawn up, and was adapting to the current situation.

“Ah, um, breakfast isn’t until 8 bells, but I think Ian can rustle something up.” Ian nodded, and started to leave. “Oh, and Ian?” The steward paused. “At two bells, bring Meralle to the purser’s office to draw out something more suitable than a set of medical scrubs.”

“Ah...Meralle?”

“That would be me,” the aforenamed person said dryly. “Hopefully, they’ll have something suitable to wear until we get to Skjaldbaka.”

“Ah...Of course, sir. Will the...young lady be staying long?”

“Yes, yes she will be.” Ian nodded, not quite expecting this development. Sure, he knew Jack had a lady in every port, but to have an apparent comfort girl aboard the ship? And a Seidran female at that? The crew’s tongues were going to wag. “Ian? Our coffee and tea?” Jack’s voice cut through his steward’s ruminations.

“Oh, uh...of course, Captain.”
Oh are you from Wales ?? Do you know a fella named Jonah ?? He used to live in whales for a while.

— Groucho Marx
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Re: [OF] The Pirate and the Slave

Postby ckosacranoid » Mon Jun 13, 2016 5:28 pm

intresting little setup for a for a story. not sure what world setting it is from but it is not bad though. thanks for sharing.
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Re: [OF] The Pirate and the Slave

Postby Scooter » Tue Jun 14, 2016 4:55 am

ckosacranoid wrote:intresting little setup for a for a story. not sure what world setting it is from but it is not bad though. thanks for sharing.


Its a world-setting of my own design, set around the 30th Century
Oh are you from Wales ?? Do you know a fella named Jonah ?? He used to live in whales for a while.

— Groucho Marx
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Re: [OF] The Pirate and the Slave

Postby ckosacranoid » Thu Jun 16, 2016 10:32 am

for some reason, the ssetup was sounding like the honor zerse for some reason from those books. but who knows, not that i know much about that world anyway with only reading one book in the series. but still cool work you are doing.
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Re: [OF] The Pirate and the Slave

Postby Spica75 » Thu Jun 16, 2016 1:17 pm

ckosacranoid wrote:for some reason, the ssetup was sounding like the honor zerse for some reason from those books. but who knows, not that i know much about that world anyway with only reading one book in the series. but still cool work you are doing.


The Honorverse books are definitely well worth reading through, and don´t discard the "Young Adult" subseries just because someone was stupid enough to slap on that categorisation on them.
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