Intrepid

4

It took a half hour for the Wasp to catch up and come alongside the pirate. Once there, Jack launched two Marine squads in LACs. One team would capture the stern, the other the bow. Most of the Marines would storm the amidships gangway.

At least that was the plan.

As Drago completed a perfect match between midship hatches, Kris kicked off from her station, snagged the hatch, and launched herself aft to join the Marines of the boarding party.

And ran into Abby, towing a full set of combat gear.

''Thought you might need these. Just the things for the well-dressed princess,'' her maid drawled.

''Isn't there a bed you need to be under?''

''Got bored there by myself.''

''Where's Cara?''

''At the computer, playing some silly game.''

Kris tried one other tack to duck her mothering maid. ''Didn't you hear? They surrendered.''

''Yeah, right,'' Abby said, and blocked Kris's path aft until she did her own surrender and accepted the first armored piece of what constituted full battle rattle.

''You're not very trusting,'' Kris said, pulling on the bottom.

''Not at all. Unlike some princess I know, I learn from bad experiences.'' So Kris pulled on full armor while others stretched a tunnel between the Wasp and the now-quiet pirate. That could have provided a route for a full assault, but the pirate's main lock refused to open. Kris arrived just as Jack to her, Captain Montoya to his company, concluded his assessment of the situation.

''Strange how nothing much seems to work on the Compton. If I weren't such an optimistic guy, I'd think they were setting a trap for us,'' Jack said. ''Gunny, you got an opinion?''

''Pirates are not known for their adherence to preventive maintenance schedules,'' he growled. ''It could be just what you'd expect from scumbags, sir.''

''So true. Okay, crew, let's get some of the stress and suspense out of our lives. LACs, I want you to seize positions on the forward and aft parts of the ship while we storm the center. We go in sixty seconds.''

''Ah, sir, Staff Sergeant Thu here. Regretfully, LAC One will have to disappoint.''

''What's your problem?''

''We've been checking out both the entrance points forward. One was onto the bridge and has a very big hole punched in it by somebody's misaimed laser.''

''Careful, Sergeant, said aimer is drifting at my elbow.''

''And it was perfectly aimed at the time it was fired,'' Kris shouted toward Jack's mike.

''Well, sirs, whatever it was then, it's ruining my day just now. 'Course, to be honest, even if the hatch opened, it would only take me onto the bridge, and I could walk in there, hatch or no hatch. It's the lower emergency air lock that is the main problem. The inner door is wedged open. We open it, and we could be blowing out all the air forward.''

''So we go to version two of today's orders,'' Jack said, betraying the informality he'd gained as a Secret Service Agent, trying to protect one Princess Kristine Longknife. ''Both LACs will enter by the stern, and we'll take the bow after we secure amidships. LAC Two, what's your situation?''

''We are ready now, sir.''

''We start in sixty seconds.''

The Wasp's huge amidships cargo bay that Kris and the Marines occupied had already been sealed off. Now a squad of Marines headed into the open tube to take up positions just outside the Compton's hatch. Jack led two more squads down the rabbit hole, but Kris found Gunny and Abby blocking her way.

''I think we ought to wait here, Your Highness. It's getting mighty stuffy in there,'' Gunny said.

The Marines who had gone with Jack were in fully armored space suits, their faceplates down, breathing tanked air. But Kris had learned not to argue with Gunny. At OCS, an old commander had told the class that the proper spelling of Gunnery Sergeant was GOD.

Kris had seen ample proof to support that theology in the last three years. Kris waited.

''We're in,'' Jack announced over the net.

A moment later a private had been ordered to test the air. ''This place stinks,'' was his only comment.

Kris's previous experience with a pirate ship had stunk of sloppy ship handling, stale cooking, and unwashed crew. But the stink that rapidly worked its way up the passage tube was a whole different blend of filth, sewer, and death.

Kris kicked off from where she hung and headed down the tube, Abby and Gunny right behind.

The stench grew as she approached the Compton's hatch. Once through it, she found herself in a similar cargo bay from the one she left, somewhat the worse for lack of care. Jack and his three squads held there as they searched for booby traps and found nothing. Most had their masks up, saving tanks that might be needed later. A few did not.

''Where's that smell coming from?'' Kris asked.

Jack shook his head. ''Life support is on minimum. Air circulation is hardly going, but still, this?''

''How are things aft?'' Kris asked.

''We took them down,'' came from a sergeant on net. ''Only gentle lambs back here. They have no idea what the bridge crew were doing, they just tended the teakettle.''

''We'll see how that holds up in court,'' Kris said dryly.

Jack looked around, frowned at nothing in particular and the stink in general, and said, ''Gunny, take two squads and clear the stern spine from here to Engineering.''

''Aye, aye, sir,'' Gunny said, and organized one of the squads there and the one that had just arrived to deploy aft, covering for each other and moving slowly.

He'd been gone less than a minute when he came up on net.

''Sir, Your Highness, you want to see what we just found.''

Kris headed aft, gun at the ready, Jack in the lead.

The stench got worse as soon as they left the cargo bay. The central spine of a cargo ship always had stairs for use when the ship was under way. It could be broken up into rooms, but since that cost money, it was often just one long, open space.

The Compton's spine was square and broken into compartments.

The first compartment had the usual pipes and conduits along the wall and a spiral stairwell offset from the center enough to allow a solid-looking airtight hatch to close off the bottom of the compartment.

The second compartment was where the stink came from.

Men and women blinked up as Kris started down the ladder. They looked like skeletons wrapped in filthy rags. Most were wired to deadeyes welded onto the outer bulkhead. They drifted listlessly as the ship turned slowly, surrounded by a cloud of their own filth. A few were free. They provided whatever care they could to the others.

That care couldn't extend very far. All they had were their own two hands and maybe a gentle voice. There was no visible source for water. One bucket might have served as a latrine. Now its content littered the air of the compartment. A woman glided through space, trying to recapture what had come free.

Kris gagged. ''Who did this?'' she demanded.

One squad of Marines was on full alert. The other moved around the compartment, cutting prisoners free. A man in what might once have been a merchant service officer's uniform floated toward Kris. He was bent over, trying gingerly to massage his left foot. That was where he'd been tied down, and it looked black and ugly.

''I'm Dan Orizowski. I was second officer of the Jumping Jill, a freighter out of Geneva.''

''You senior here?'' Jack asked.

The begrimed man looked around. ''I am off the Jill.''

''Your senior officers?'' Kris asked.

''Killed for resisting.''

''Is this all one crew?''

''No.'' A grizzled old fellow now joined them. ''I'm Onally MarTom, chief wiper on the Outside Straight. Don't know where we were registered. Our captain surrendered when they asked, but they killed him and all the officers without even blinking.''

''Who?'' Kris asked, her voice low. She recognized her tone as deadly. Jack's lips were a thin line. He'd give her no guff.

''I don't know their names, ma'am,'' the old chief wiper said, ''but I'll never forget their faces.''

''Captain, what say we get this man some faces to look at.''

''My thinking exactly,'' Jack said, and turned to Gunny. ''I want the whole company over here. Reduce the admin watch to minimum on the Wasp. Full battle rattle and demolition loads.''

Kris coordinated with Captain Drago. ''I'm stripping my Marines for a rat hunt. Can your sailors keep an eye on the ship to make sure no rats make it off or across to you?''

''I'm getting video of what you're seeing, and even with life support on full boost, we're getting some of what you're smelling. I'll have armed sailors looking out for anyone that you miss.''

''Could your crew take care of these people?''

''Cookie is preparing oatmeal and got the largest pot of coffee perking. Those that aren't shooters are ready to help distressed mariners. Even some of the boffins are standing in line to help.''

''You do the humanity thing. We'll do the other stuff.''

''Kick their butts good.''

Kris brought Jack up to date. He nodded. ''Give me five minutes to get everyone in place. Let them have more time to stew in their own juices. I don't want to face desperate men with anything less than overwhelming odds. I don't care how many of them die. All of them are not worth one of my Marines.''

Kris gave him a thumbs-up.

Sailors and boffins arrived to carefully tow out the former prisoners. The Marines aft, told there might be solid work for them forward, quickly cuffed and led up the engineering staff, still protesting their innocence to anyone listening.

No one was.

The LACs were launched again. The Compton had life pods. Their present position was a good four-year drift in a pod to an only marginally inhabitable planet. Anyone who tried to escape that way faced a long, slow death. As tempting as it might have been to let them try, the LACs had orders to corral in the life pods and head any pirate in them toward a date with a judge and a noose.

At Jack's orders, the Marines popped the hatch and started their way up the forward spine of the Compton.