114 - Scrap Bloom
Captain Minius cackled with glee. One of the crane arms-- the one with the bespoke cutting torch mounted-- moved smoothly along the exterior of the Fyronix ship. Thick hull plating parted easily under the intense power emitted by the narrow gravitronic nozzle of the torch as Flander guided the crane arm from the console on the bridge.
Minius' crew had never broken down a ship before about three weeks ago, but already they were working together smoothly. With Brutus's deft hand on the ship controls, Flander operating the crane torch, and Minius finding the juiciest scrap, they were quickly becoming practiced at breaking down derelict and destroyed vessels.
Enemies of the Imperium only, of course.
The routine was becoming smooth. They'd circle a derelict, pulling off the hull plating, cutting it into standard sizes and stacking it carefully in storage. Then they would cut apart the beams of the superstructure, slotting them into storage as well. That left the internal structure holding all the really expensive goodies: reactor, shielding, central computing, fuel. Occasionally they'd even find a cargo hold full of goods.
Of course, there were always complications. Destroyed ships were just that. They'd have big holes to work around, or be missing the entire aft, or sometimes simply be ragged shreds barely clinging together through the superstructure. But with some careful navigation and the liberal application of their newest tool, they were making short work of even the gnarliest wrecks.
"This have been the best deal ever I have made," Minius said with immense satisfaction.
They'd already sold three entire shiploads of scrap, and the first privateer payment had come in from the Imperium. They were making so much money that Minius was even considering getting some of the missing hull on the ship repaired.
Minius shook his head. With so much scrap at hand, they could patch it all themselves. No need to spend extra for somebody else to do it.
"Careful now," Minius said. "This are close to the reactor. "
Flander absently tapped once on the deck as its many other arms continued to guide the torch and crane claws. The large sheet of armor plating was nearly free.
They were in the Brega sector. Though it had never been formally designated as such, it had become one of the junkyards of the Imperium. When the IDM cleared a combat sector, they had to put the demolished vessels somewhere. It would be easy to fire the mess into the nearest star, and the messiest and most dangerous scrap got exactly that treatment. More cohesive scrap was towed away, though, and usually ended up in dead-end sectors that only had one or two jumpholes. Brega was one of those sectors.
The easy wrecks would quickly be gobbled up by the big firms with the fancy ships and powerful tools, but the Clankers were becoming adept at taking apart the problematic derelicts.
The panel came free of the wreck they were working on. Flander snagged it with one of the crane's claws, and Brutus applied a tiny amount of thrust to keep the movement from setting the Ocher Dawn spinning. Flander carefully slotted the panel into one of the Dawn's many bays.
"Ah, this are good," said Minius. "Too much structure in the way to see if the reactor are salvageable yet. Power off the torch, we'll come around and strip the other side."
Minius rubbed his hands together as Brutus prepared to power on some of the larger engines.
A small blip appeared on the scanner. Minius' brow furrowed.
"Belay that," he said. "There are another mass in the system suddenly. I didn't see it before. Did you, Brutus?" Brutus shook his head. Minius' expression hardened. "It may be a bigger scrapper. But this are our scrap." A note of worry crept into his voice. "But they are not near the jumphole. How did they get into the sector without us seeing?"
"Should I scan them, Minius?" Brutus asked.
"Passive scan only. I don't want to draw their attention to our scrap."
Brutus nodded and worked his console. An image popped up on the main display.
"What are that?" Minius said.
The strangest ship-- or biological-- or something had appeared in the sector. It was a massive sphere of branching, bony constructs, like a giant, gapped coral.
"I do no like the look of this," Minius said. Flander tapped twice. "Power down everything."
"What about the shielding?" Brutus asked.
"That too. If we lose any scrap we'll fetch it again later."
Brutus' eyebrow rose, but he did as directed.
"Have you ever seen the like?" Minius whispered, staying quiet as though his voice would carry through space. Brutus shook his head and Flander tapped twice. Minius licked his dry lips. "Let's stay at minimum power. Maybe we can pass as a scrap bloom. Especially this close to our derelict."
The ship hung there, the greenish light of the Bregan star reflecting dully off its ivory struts. It possessed almost a watchful air, as though it were looking at all the junk in the sector.
Then it vanished.
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"What happened? Where did it go?"
Brutus was working the console.
"It left an energy signature, Minius." He looked up at the Captain, disbelief painted on his face. "I think it flew away. The energy signature has a definite vector."
"What do you mean, Brutus?"
"I mean it... left."
"But it were not near the jumphole."
Brutus scratched his head.
"Maybe it just... flew away that fast?" he said.
"It would have to be traveling faster than light speed," Minius replied. "That's impossible."
"It definitely didn't use the jumphole. It didn't even move that direction. Hold on, there's another energy signature." Brutus worked the console. "That's it. I see how it came into the sector. That's why we didn't see it come in. It didn't use the jumpholes at all. It just... yeah, it came in that fast."
Minius swallowed.
"What do we do about this, Minius?" Brutus asked.
"I don't know." He stayed stuck for a moment, staring at the monitor. Now that the ship was gone, it only showed the depths of space.
Flander scratched at the floor. Minius looked down at the complex movements of the robot's stump arm.
"That... that are a good thought," Minius said. "Yes. We should go back and tell Admiral Stonefist. Power up. Let's get our scrap and head out."
Minius shook his head, still rattled.
"This weirdness are all beyond what I signed up for."
"Let's run a last round of exercises," Captain Cohrmere said. The faces on his bridge monitor were too professional to groan, but there was a certain cast of exhaustion around everyone's eyes that was unmistakable. "I know it's been a long day," he said, "but we have the Swordheart and Admiral Stonefist with us right now. Let's take advantage of it while we can. It may be weeks before we get another chance. Remember, understanding what's going on with our Wraithfleet is the key to getting back into the combat rotation."
The faces of the other captains of the Wraithfleet stiffened with resolve.
"Admiral, we're ready when you are," Captain Cohrmere said.
"Very well," Admiral Stonefist said. He tapped his console. "For this exercise, you've been split into one of two teams, Blue Team and Red Team. Captain Cohrmere of the ISS Helix will lead Red, and Captain Apine of the ISS Warspire will lead Blue. We'll begin with some light conditioning and then engage in a mock battle."
"Understood, sir," said Captain Cohrmere.
The assignments were made, and they went through some formations to verify comms and ship operations.
"Form up," Admiral Stonefist said. "Objective is to secure and hold a beacon, designated point Alpha. Coordinates have been sent to your helms. First to hold it five minutes wins. Virtual weapons mode is engaged."
They formed up into two teams of about twenty ships and began maneuvers. The maneuvers were classic, standard tactics: outrun the opponent to the objective, set up a defensive perimeter. Captain Cohrmere shook his head.
"All right, Red Team, let's arrow for point Alpha. Spread out, line ahead formation, and let's leapfrog, use each other as gravity wells, slingshot around to get some more speed."
The Red Team fleet streamed toward the objective, each ship swerving around the one ahead, using their gravity for a little extra boost.
It quickly became clear the Blue Team was going to reach the objective first. They'd started slightly closer to the beacon, and they'd randomly drawn more of the faster recon ships. Captain Cohrmere's face darkened and his temperature began to rise. They were going to have to assault a defended position.
"Fleet, echelon formation. Prepare for a strafing pass."
Boring. They were doing rookie fleet exercises. There was nothing new to be learned here. Cohrmere's jaw set. They'd perform the standard maneuvers, strafe then find a weak point to exploit, jockey for position and try to force the other team out of formation. They'd done it all three times today already.
They were simply going to win or lose based on random selections of a console program. Then they would all rejoin the fleet, forget about the exercises, and stay relegated to writing reports.
It was time to stop being careful. Whatever had happened-- whatever Admiral Stonefist had seen-- they wouldn't get answers by carefully dancing through stone age exercises.
"Null that," he muttered under his breath.
Captain Cohrmere suddenly needed to win. Just one solid, inarguable win. They'd been floating along, doing nothing, contributing nothing, and now, even if it were just a training exercise, he wanted to win again.
"Fleet, belay that order," he said. "Cuneus formation. Destroyers and assault frigates at the front. We're going to drive right through them."
Without a word of protest, the fleet formed a long spearhead shape.
"All engines, ahead full!"
The Red Team fleet leapt forward, aimed like an arrow at the hedgehog formation of the Blue Team. The Blue Team came together, forming a shield wall in front of point Alpha.
"All blasters, target the center of their shield!" Captain Cohrmere cried.
The Red Team fleet drove at the Blue Team shield. The stricken Blue Team ship was quickly marked as destroyed. Captain Cohrmere called out another ship and his fleet focused on that.
They picked through the ships of the Blue Team, wearing a hole through the shield, but the tip of their spear was quickly blunted. One after another, their leading ships were marked as destroyed.
By the time the fleets met, they were both down to half-strength. The tattered Red Team sleeted through the remnant of the Blue Team shield.
"Turn about," Captain Cohrmere said. "Re-form and give them another taste of the blade."
The Red Team fleet drove through again, decimating the Blue Team and losing more ships. By the time the second pass was complete, the Blue Team had five ships remaining, but Cohrmere's Red Team only had three.
Captain Cohrmere gritted his teeth. We have to win. To get back some sense of normalcy. To prove they still could. To prove that they weren't really dead.
To be a Captain of the Imperial Navy again.
"Red Team, scatter!" he cried into the comms. "Draw them away from the point Alpha!"
Two ships of the Blue team peeled away from the objective. The Red Team quickly wheeled and hammered them with all guns. The two ships soon showed as destroyed.
Captain Cohrmere's face broke out in a determined grin.
"Now we're three against three," he said. "We've come this far and we can take the objective!"
"Cease exercise!" Admiral Stonefist's face appeared on the bridge monitor, fierce, angry. A mulish response welled up in Captain Cohrmere's chest. They were so close. They had to win!
"All ships cease exercise and stand down!" Admiral Stonefist bellowed. The note of absolute fury finally pierced Captain Cohrmere's consciousness.
He shook his head. What had he been doing? He'd never disobeyed a direct order before. And for a training exercise, at that.
"Red Team, standing down," he said. Reluctance still tugged at his voice. "All ships, cease operations."
There was silence on the comms for a few seconds. Then another reluctant voice came over the comms.
"Blue Team, standing down."
Admiral Stonefist's face still showed on the bridge monitor, brick-red with fury.
"Captains Cohrmere and Apine, I want you both in my office right now," he said with a hiss of barely contained rage.
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