Strat Chpt-12

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==Strategos (A Great Captain Roberts Tale!!)Chapter 12 - Almost==
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Jump signature…
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…detected…it's a heavy." Lord Leftnant Sarah Cyrus-Inslee began swearing. The Tithes from Bell were locked down-labor to feed Lord Captain Winston's mining interests and even some machinery to replace what was used up, her forces didn't have room or safety margin for a fight.
"Identify it."
"Warbook profile is calling it a modified Bonaventure, but the computer file's having a hard time because it's heavily modified!"
"Have they seen us yet?" she demanded.
"They're not strobbing actives, there's a chance they haven't spotted us yet."
She checked the status indicators on the jump drive. Two days. Dammit, TWO DAYS!!
"Lock down to minimum emissions, and angle our sail to minimize profile. If we're lucky they haven't seen us yet." she ordered.
There is simply no way that an older Invader class jumpship with two Unions and a converted passenger hauler can take even a very weak Warship in a fight. Her six fighters and twenty 'mechs won't do anything in a space fight, the tanks, old models optimized for civil pacification missions, weren't up to it either, and there was the cargo.
Eight hundred slaves in prime physical health, property bound for Base Echo's mining fields or manufactories-too valuable to simply dump and run.
Keep watching the wrong way. she silently prayed, as the stranger released shuttles from a modified forward bay, followed by far too many fighters for a book Bonaventure.
"Can we run?" Lord Ensign Walters asked.
"No." she said, "That wagon has us on thrust, duration, and range. Our only hope is that they're looking somewhere else for the next two days."
If we get blown up here, I'll never get cousin Lukas off the Lynnwood. That was why she was out here in the first place-to rack up enough credit and time to unseat her mother's-brother's-grandson as Lord Captain of the Essex Class Destroyer SLS Lynnwood, because the man might be handsome, and charming, and have an impressive set of wedding tackle and few scruples, but he was crushingly dim-witted and vain…and not that good in bed.
Sarah, on the other hand, was ambitious and could see (well, before physically seeing it that things among the Sons had grown too complacent, that equipment wasn't being adequately maintained, and that, aside from now-routine Tithing operations, the whole Royal Force had begun to slip badly.
A taste of blood and a sting from her left hand brought her into the real situation. She pulled her fingers from her mouth, briefly visually checking to assure all six fingers were in fact still part of her hand. She has biting habit hadn't crippled one of them.
She studied the passive sensors and willed the intruder don't see me.
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"Well, Mister John? What do you think?" Captain Foster had been a Warrior for almost thirty years, but it is 'up or out' in a Fleet Touman that was sending warships to mothball, and while he'd defended his bloodname rights and warrior status through a long dry spell of relative peace, it wasn't the best record a man could have.
The Privateer force was somewhere to go that wasn't Solahma Infantry or trying to be a Merchant administrator.
It also afforded him the experience, of working directly to turn these native-borns into something at least resembling proper officers.
If you screwed your eyes up right, and ignored their awkwardness and lack of polish, anyway.
Mister John looked dubious. "No transponder." he finally said, "I'm seeing hull markings from at least three different organizations, the portside union is sporting Draconis Admiralty marks, the starboard's marked up Davion, the passenger DropShip on the third collar has Pan Universal Lines markings, and they've been out of business in this end of the Sphere since before I was born."
"And that tell you…?"
"Bandits or Mercenaries and with nobody out this way to pay them and they're not greeting us on open channels? I'm going with bandit."
Foster nodded gravely, and smiled inside. "Mister John, if you would hail them with the standard address, on my mark."
"Aye, Sir."
Foster turned, "CAG, put a flyby on for our silent 'friend' there. We will give them the chance to surrender first. Point Commander Tyler, I want maximum efficiency. Have your warriors ready to board the JumpShip and all three DropShips in a coordinated assault in five mikes. I want those ships, their nav data, cargo manifests, and officers taken alive and as intact as possible."
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