Jolo smiled. Computer, Jolo thought, who is Marin Trant?
Marin Trant, Federation gunboat captain. Won three Gold Stars for his exploits in the Bakanhe Grana wars. Passed over for Commander position due to disciplinary action.
Perfect, thought Jolo.
“I thought Trant was a worm-lovin’ yellow momma’s boy, too scared to swim out here in the black with the sharks,” Jolo said.
“You ain’t no shark,” said Trant. Then he added, “Pirate.” Jolo cut the comm link.
“Are you nuts?” said Koba.
“Just making sure he does what he needs to do.” Then Jolo called down to engineering. “You boys ready?”
“Good to go,” said Barth.
“Alright then. Hang on, Boys, we ‘bout to get rocked,” Jolo said over the comm shipwide. Greeley had just come back with the suit and guns. He dropped everything and strapped in to his seat.
“Koba, send the good captain our regards.”
The Argossy hit the Nymeria with both rail guns.
Reality Check
Callen
14 days left
The first salvo from the gunboat rocked the Argossy. The deck moved under Jolo’s feet but he clung to his chair, the air on the bridge suddenly tingly, electric. Another blast came right after that from the second Fed boat and the shields took a hit. Jolo still had functional comms but before he could call down to engineering Barth did what he was supposed to do and shut everything down.
And so the Argossy lay naked, shields down and presumed dead in Callen with two pissed-off gunboats at point-blank range and half the Fed fleet behind them.
The main screen on the bridge went black and the air movers stopped humming and Koba huddled under his console. The ship was oddly quiet and suddenly Jolo could hear his own breathing. The hull groaned and creaked, the metal cooling back down after absorbing two hits. Please don’t slap us again, thought Jolo. He knew the Argossy could take one or two more shots with shields down, but he’d rather not test the hull integrity of the old ship again.
A moment passed. Then another. And the Argossy floated, but the gunboats stuck to protocol and did not fire on the disabled ship. “Koba,” said Jolo, “run down to Hurley and y’all get suited up and get out.” Koba jumped up and headed to engineering. “Greeley, let’s go greet our guests.” The big man handed him a rifle and the mag-boots and followed him to the docking bay in full battle gear. Both rifles were set to stun.
Pretty soon they felt the Argossy shudder as the Fed gunboat locked onto the docking adapter and both ships linked together.
The original Argossy docking bay wasn’t designed for modern Federation starships. So when Marco retrofitted the standard, round two-meter docking tube into the Argossy, he made a few improvements. The typical vestibule between ships could hold three men abreast, and that’s just how the Argossy looked from the outside, but the walkway quickly narrowed so that only one man could enter the inner air lock at a time.
So when the Fed marine team came barreling into the main hold, guns hot, in their bright, shiny blue battle armor, they quickly realized that this wasn’t going to be the usual rock and shock takeover of a merchant ship way past its prime.
Right before the marines burst through the air lock Jolo told Greeley to get into position. “You’re gonna do your thing again, aren’t you?” Greeley said, sour faced.
“You jealous?” said Jolo.
“Naw, it just ain’t natural is all.”
“Sort a like your tiny brain?”
Marco’s beautiful retrofitted air lock door started to glow orange near the top as the Feds, always anxious to use their gear, especially during peacetime when life was a blur of pinochle and training runs, had decided to burn their way in.
“You know, I was gonna open the dang door,” said Jolo. He made sure the mag boots were strapped on tightly, then he shut them down and set them to lock on contact. He jumped straight up, turning in the air so his feet landed on the ceiling. He waved down at Greeley who was still shaking his head.
A spray of tiny orange sparks flew into the vestibule, some bouncing off the deck a few times before going black. Soon they’d be through, so Greeley stepped back a few meters and waited. His job was to draw their fire while Jolo took them out. The Feds usually came in four man teams so Greeley had to wait until they all cleared before taking out the first one which meant he was gonna have to take a few shots for the team. This wasn’t the first time the Argossy had been boarded and Greeley hated being the designated target in Jolo’s little plan. So early on Jolo had taken him aside and confided a simple truth. “The rest of these guys are wussies. You’re the only one man enough to do this. And I’m the only one who can make it to the ceiling.” Greeley had to agree, the rest of the crew couldn’t do it. And from then on he reluctantly played his part, standing there like a green recruit who didn’t know better than to get the hell out of the way.
The first marine burst through, handsome shiny blue battle gear and a Fed energy rifle, searching for a target. And there was Greeley ten meters back. He side stepped behind the doorway of the air lock showing just enough of himself to divert the lead man’s attention. The rest barreled through and Jolo popped the fourth one as soon as his head came through the doorway. Now there were three.
Greeley got hit twice before Jolo got the second marine. They weren’t expecting a half-synth hanging from the ceiling. He jumped
