Meddlers In Time- The Cockatoo River Incident

Meddlers In Time- The Cockatoo River Incident

  Wayne Watson

  Copyright 2010

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or otherwise able to take legal action against me, is purely coincidental.

  All the names were pulled out of my memory and applied more or less at random. You ain't that character just because you share a first name and a trade.

  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

  The Cockatoo River Incident

  Prelude

  Throughout the Empire of Man there are many great memorials to the fallen. On the planet of Yalumba there is one of the smallest, yet the events leading to its creation, history has shown to be the most pivotal in the course of the empire.

  In the Ikuntji province, exactly 847 meters from the Cockatoo River Mission bell tower, there is a small knoll. The grape vines now have been cleared for 200 meters around. Circling the top is a simple tall hedge of Acacia. Within the hedge is a circular grass lawn. Around the border of this lawn are 47 simple crosses- half a meter high and iridium plated. At the center of the Lawn are sixteen similar but smaller crosses, grouped together in four rows of four. The single gateway of wrought iron has no decoration but a single word.

  'DUTY'

  This is the story of the events leading to what is now known as 'The Cockatoo River Incident'.

  The day the Empire realized that 'Live and let live' was no longer an option...

  Cockatoo River Incident Memorial

  Jenny and Wayne quietly walked out of the inner circle of the memorial- a place where few were ever permitted to stand upon the lovingly cared for lawns. They took up position in front of the Imperial flag and saluted as it was lowered to the strains of the Last Post. As the guard party marched off towards the mission, they stood for a while in silent contemplation.

  "Never forget how much worse it would have been without you," said Wayne.

  "I tell myself that every time I think about it. Not that it helps much..."

  ***

  Transit Station

  21 years previous (Empire time line)

  “I've done some weird shit, but this beats it all,” said Jenny- now inhabiting a four-year old child's version of her body.

  “This is just like having the baby sister I always wanted,” said Sonja laughingly, picking Jenny up and spinning her around.

  “You need to find a man and make babies,” said Jenny. “Now put me the hell down before I get in character and pee all over you.”

  ***

  Transit Station Ready Room

  "Good luck- things are going to be a bit hairy until the Marines take control," said Wayne.

  Jenny waited next to the portal area dressed in flimsy silk and makeup- this prostitute's garb looking disturbingly incongruous on her young body. “I plan to act like my apparent age and hide under the bed- I hope those marines aren't too trigger-happy.”

  “No worries there- those boys like to take slavers alive- all the better for tossing out the airlock.”

  “Gate in ten seconds” said Sonja. “Time to get in character.”

  Jenny stepped through to the (empty) captain's cabin of the 'Golden Caravan'.

  ***

  Heavy Destroyer 'Wotan's Fury'

  'Four Hour Warning- Normal space in four hours' sounded the intercom.

  Captain Jamieson scanned his messages, then took a quick shower and put on a fresh uniform- along with the now traditional splash of Old Spice. Time for a quick tour about the ship before taking the helm for the battle. Outside his cabin, the duty officer was waiting.

  “What's on the trouble sheet?” said Captain Jamieson.

  “Two marines on the sick list- I gather they got carried away with close quarters training, Sir,” said Ensign Johnson.

  “Eichmann’s’?”

  “Aye Sir.”

  No doubt Lieutenant Eichmann has already dealt with them, thought Wayne.

  “Engineering?”

  “Nothing operational Sir,” said Johnson, handing over a tablet.

  Wayne scrolled down a list of minor faults- all under action. Just the usual house-keeping repairs.

  He handed the tablet back- “OK- Commanders brief at minus three hours- dismissed.”

  “Aye Sir,” said the ensign, saluting.

  Forty minutes for a bit of breakfast before the final brief.

  *

  Heavy Destroyer 'Wotan's Fury'

  CIC

  'One hour warning- all hands secure for N-space running' announced the intercom.

  "Call it," said Jamieson.

  "Nav- all ships on-station."

  "Tac- prox shows one megatonne plus, a capital ship, four frigates and multiple minor traces."

  "Guns- all systems on-line and charged.”

  "Drive- grav on stand-by, tractors nominal.”

  "Damage- standing by.”

  "Security- standing by.”

  "Last comfort call," said the Captain. "Tac- call on status change.”

  "Tac aye- Trace firming- confirm 'Scimitar' class cruiser and eight contacts at minus 10,000 tonnes.”

  Their sub-space proximity array was one of the major factors in Free Company Wotan's Fury's success. The best anyone else possessed was a detector that would only work a few seconds before exiting sub-space- and that was more than most had. As they edged closer to the exit point, the information built up- tonnage, vector and numbers.

  'All hands- minutes one to N-space.'

  Then it was time and they crossed the threshold in to normal space. The collision alert klaxon sounded- they had exited exactly on course- dead astern of the escort cruiser and closing fast.

  "Guns- I have a firing solution.”

  "Engage 90," said Jamieson, directing the gunnery officer to fire as soon as the hit probability reached 90 percent. Additional detail was streaming onto his Tac screen- battles were won by sensors more than guns and the 'Fury' had the very best.

  "Aspect change- targets capacitors ramping."

  "Guns hold," said Jamieson, taking a calculated gamble- he wanted to let the enemy capacitors charge up, as they would produce considerable secondary damage if hit. In any case he was still well out of their range and it took time to swing a cruiser about to use its main spinal mount.

  Fifteen seconds later he said "Weapons free," and the quick-firing batteries flashed out their rods of UV laser energy.

  "Tac- I have secondary’s on the target- low-level EMP and out-gassing."

  A good first strike and as with most fights in the real world- the one that got the first solid blow in won.

  "Continue until destroyed with two turrets- all other turrets target those frigates," said Jamieson. "Cutters- you are clear to engage.”

  The six ships cutters went to full speed and rapidly closed on the now seriously damaged cruiser. With the cutters away, they began to decelerate heavily, not wanting to overshoot. Now only several hundred kilometers out, 'Fury's' secondary mounts added their fire to battle, targeting individual guns and sensor arrays. The two main turrets also shifted to suppressive fire, trading intensity for rate of fire. Each time the cruiser got a shot away, the gun firing was pinpointed and raked with fire. Two cutters sped directly in, traveling along the same axis and slightly below the 'Fury's' outgoing fire. At 20 kilometers range they both released a salvo of torpedoes and broke off at maximum power. Obscured from the cruisers few remaining sensors by the laser energy and debris, the six torpedoes closed the gap in 30 seconds, decelerating hard just before striking the hull, where their armored nose cones tore through the relatively thin hull plating like needles. Five of the six
five-kilotonne warheads survived the impact and detonated six seconds after impact, tearing the cruiser to pieces.

  "OK, settle down- we are still in the fight- all batteries- engage those frigates. When they are dead, target the small craft at will. Tac- what have we got coming?" said Jamieson.

  "Hostiles inbound- battle group in effective range in six point five hours. Two cruisers, Scimitar class, five unidentified destroyers, seven frigates and twenty minor contacts.”

  "Call the cutters back. Sailing Master- once those frigates are slagged or gone put us in a blocking position to hold off that task force." Leaving his officers to continue the battle, Jamieson turned his attention to the data feed from his frigate 'Jolly Roger'.

  ***

  Control Room

  Frigate 'Jolly Roger'- Free Company Wotan's Fury

  The ship's intercom sounded 'One hour warning- all hands secure for N-space running.'

  Commander Hendrik glanced at his readouts, in particular the subspace mass detectors which were now starting to register the presence of his prey- a huge 'Caravan' class bulk freighter. Also on his screen were other vessels- a cruiser and four frigates- but these were for 'Wotan's Fury' and the other frigate 'Blackbeard' to deal with.

  This was always the worst time- the waiting just before exiting sub-space. But at least he had the advantage of a sub-space detector far in advance of anything else found in this time. The minutes counted down seemingly getting faster as the time approached. Then there was no time left for a last check of all stations and the 'Jolly Roger' was in normal space- now the work really started.

  Space battles are won and lost by intelligence. Whose ship had the best sensor arrays, signal processors and fire control- and more importantly- the advantage of surprise. The small flotilla had used the advantage of their sub-space instruments to come into normal space behind the freighter and her escorts- where their sensors were at their least effective. Before the cruiser had even gotten close to a firing solution, Captain Jamieson's gunners were pouring fire into the cruiser, while the 'Blackbeard' held off two of the escorting frigates with equally devastating fire.

  Hendrik directed his gunners to support the other two vessels as he closed on the freighter and gave the order for his cutters to start their runs. At 50 kilometers out, he directed the secondary weapons operators to start burning out the freighters sensors and communications. As he did so, a violent flare of incandescent light caused the camera screen to momentarily flare out, telling him a torpedo had taken out the cruiser with a nuke- something they seldom used, being in the business of taking prizes. Glancing to the XO's screen, he saw tracery indicating that the 'Fury' had already redirected its quick-firing lasers to the remaining escorts.

  Now they were clear to grapple with the freighter and board.

  As the Sailing Master took the frigate in, Commander Hendrik watched the teams from the cutters burning through the hull, forcing an entry for the heavy infantry in their active armor. They would be creating a diversion for the main thrust, consisting of Hendrik's light infantry who enter through a soft-seal.

  As the frigate approached the hull, the Remora docking pod locked into position on their ventral aspect. The Sailing Master would close the last few meters at low speed, driving this hardened cylinder, which looked like the end of a hypodermic needle, through the hull plating. A crushable collar filled with expanding sealant would caulk the breach.

  A faint shudder told them that the hull had made contact.

  "Mag-grav locks engaged Sir,” said the Remora operator. "We have soft-seal.” He activated the hydraulic rams that would clear the penetrator and deployed the cutter arms. Where needed, cutting lasers would slice through plates, wreckage and bulkheads. While it is true that most thing on-board ship do not react well to gunfire or cutter beams, it is also true that wherever possible, such items are kept away from the outer hull wall.

  "Scutters away," said the operator, as he released an array of small camera robots to scout the ship. These would race along the corridors mapping the way, dropping remote sensors and repeater stations- generally providing intelligence for the assault force.

  With the way clear, Lieutenant Tom Phillips led his marines into the 'Golden Caravan'. They wanted to kill a few slavers before heavy infantry got them first. They had barely started moving towards the ships bridge when the hull shivered.

  The heavy infantry commander called over the comm- "Explosion in engineering- looks like they had the tractors wired to blow- damned fools went up with the engines.”

  Hendrik glanced to the Tac officer, who anticipated his query- "Sir- Grav drive still running- tractor field died when that explosion went off."

  Without hesitation Hendrik said "Combat engineers topside- get us bonded to their hull, we will take the freighter under our power. As soon as we have control, slave their grav drive to our control- move it people, we have a hostile task force just hours out and I'm not letting this prize get away."

  While the freighter was huge, the tractors in Hendrik's frigate were larger than those used by the freighter, being rated to do exactly this task- or to move the frigate faster than most naval shipping in this time.

  Before the marines had finished beating their way to the C&C, the ship's engineers had attached bonding and anchor cables to the hull, securing their ship and were running cable to engineering in order to take control of the freighter's grav drives.

  "Bridge secure Sir." said Lt. Phillips. "Two walking wounded being evac'd back now, seventeen prisoners secured. We are ready to receive the prize crew now."

  "Good work Lieutenant- sondes show activity in cargo bay 18- video and detectors indicates a guard room and a huge life reading. You will send a section and investigate further."

  "Aye Sir- Phillips out."

  Tom's section arrived moments before the heavy infantry and a sensor team. The guard room was locked, so Tom ordered the section sergeant to have a mech open it up. The mechanized marine soon had the door destroyed with his power axe, to reveal three cowering guards.

  "I can smell slaver scum even through this suit," said the marine corporal.

  "OUT- NOW," shouted the sergeant. "On the fucking deck- you crapheads know the drill. Out or he drags you and that exoskeleton is known to pull arms and legs off."

  The three guards scurried out of the room and lay prone on the deck, while Tom's men shackled them and dragged them off to join the other prisoners. Tom waved the specialists over to start sweeping. Immediately the team leader confirmed the scutter's life reading.

  "Sir, you got THOUSANDS behind that bulkhead- I think we got a slave cargo here."

  "Why do you say slaves specialist?"

  "Sir, if they was troops, our asses would have been kicked of this ship- and you can only pack troops or slaves in that tight."

  "Good point," said Tom with a grin, "Why don't you take a look on that monitor in the guard room?"

  The specialist gave to room a last sweep and moved in to look at the pickup. The horrified look on his face told Tom all he needed to know. "All of you- go in one by one and take a look at that monitor- move."

  "Sir- we have to get them out of there now," said a shocked looking young marine who wasn't quite as worldly as he had previously thought.

  "Negative," said Tom. "This is a specialist job- turn them loose now and we will never get this ship ready to jump. They have lasted this long- they can hold on a little longer. Best you all can do is get this ship swept, secured and out of here so we can do something for these folks. Now proceed with your sweeps- Sergeant Jorgenson- you are in command- I have to brief the skipper- get to it."

  Tom wanted to be nearby when the detector teams swept the officers quarters. The REAL reason for this mission, known only to Jamieson and himself was there.

  ***

  "Got a ping- low level, though- could be some attenuation through these soundproofed partitions."

  "OK- in you go- I got your back."

  "They ain't paying me enough
for this shit."

  "Just get your wide ass in there private."

  "Under the bed corporal- reading looks like it’s a kid."

  "Hey it IS a kid- come on out little girl- we are here to help you- AH CRAP- She goddamn bit me!"

  "Well don't try grab her- lift the bed off...oh sweet Mary and Jesus...Sir- Sir- you gotta see this."

  Tom strode into the room "What's all the fuss... Oh my…"

  This part Tom didn't know about. Before him was Jenny dressed up in transparent silk, makeup and perfume- not that he hadn't seen that before but not when she was in a four-year olds body. His face hardened. He tapped at his wrist comm. "Sir- are you receiving my helmcam? - You may want this as evidence. Yes Sir, in the Captain's quarters. Very well Sir, Phillips out." He turned to the two marines. "You two hold your position here. Guard this girl until an evac team relieves you, and then continue with your sweeps."

  "Aye sir," said the two marines, snapping to attention.

  Jenny sat on the edge of the bed. "Can I go home now?"

  *

  Wayne had gotten a coded message regarding Jenny's successful insertion and feeling a lot happier now, although he would not relax until they were in subspace on-route to the rendezvous point. Five still-glowing hulks drifted in near space and the smaller craft were mostly debris clouds. His flotilla had only sustained superficial sensor damage and no hull breaches.

  "Guns, Sir- I have a solution on the final hostile. He will in range for another twelve minutes at current course and vector."

  "You will fire 17 volleys with the X turret, aiming to narrowly miss- the 18th volley will be aimed to destroy him."

  "Aye sir," said the Weapons officer, trying not to sound puzzled at this strange request.

  "We have a task force headed our way we may have to fight" said Jamieson. "Let's not give them an indication of how good our gunnery really is- Carry on."

  Jamieson's message screen flashed. He glanced at it, and then took a few seconds to read it more thoroughly. Hendrik's techs had gotten the freighter's computer back on line and brought up the manifest. 'Golden Caravan' had over five thousand slaves on board and was carrying rations for 20 days. With the rendezvous point 21 days out at their estimated speed and the next friendly planet another ten days from there, they would have a serious shortfall. Even the emergency rations carried by 'Fury' wouldn't go far amongst those numbers. He knew from experience that slave rations were, at best, minimal and couldn't be stretched very far.