14/6/467 AC, FSS Ironsides
Pedraz had to admit it, the FSN squids had made himself and the other seventeen men of the crew pretty damned comfortable over the last several days. He'd missed his rum ration, of course, and the food wasn't really as close to home cooking as was served aboard legionary ships and boats. Still, the quarters were comparatively spacious and the mattress, oh, much better.
The break was over. A remotely piloted vehicle from one of the frigates escorting the Ironsides had spotted what appeared to a medium sized group of Xamari pirates collecting and boarding three smallish boats for an excursion.
Pedraz had watched in real time in CIC as the pirates gathered.
"Do they always act like that?" he'd asked of a Spanish speaking sailor manning a visual screen
"Generally, yeah, Chief. They dance around, shooting their rifles into the air to psyche themselves up. Then they get all the old men, women and kids cheering. Then they board and launch. By the time we are allowed to do anything it's always too late. See, we can't do a damned thing until they've actually committed piracy on the high seas. By then . . . by the time we can act; they'll have grabbed the crew as hostages and we're stymied."
After watching the pirates' boats for a while, Pedraz commented, "Slower than shit, aren't they?"
"Yeah," the other sailor agreed. "And that's how you're going to get them, this once anyway."
Pedraz went back to watching the slow progress of the pirates' vessels. He estimated them as doing no better than ten knots. A few quick mental calculations told him they needed to get at least eight miles offshore for him to have a decent chance of both intercepting them before they reached the boat and not warning them in time for them to turn around.
After what seemed to Pedraz to be a very long time watching, Ironsides' operations officer spoke up, in English. "Tell Mr. Pedraz to man his boat and to have the Agustin's crew man as well. We'll lower them to the water and then signal when it's time to leave."