The Den was a dark, dark part of the station that had been converted to living space from storage tanks, much like most of the storage capacity of the Oyster Creek installation. I hadn't allowed for that, Jimmy thought as he sipped his Ale again. Things had snowballed in a big way. A deal here to get use of a large transport ship had turned into a huge converting mission, with all but one of the crew defecting to the Alliance cause. The man had been an LPI "Skymarshal", and had been dealt with appropriately. Now I had family members of the crew here as well, on the run from the law because I had dragged them all in. But they were safer here than in their homes on Houston.
They were free from the control. Out here there were no police, just a basic understanding of the need to cooperate to survive and a chance to make a difference. That can bond a person to a cause like nothing else can. So I had given them direction, created jobs, now we could process ore with light mining machinery. Purify helium with nanofilters and gas compressors. Many of the political refugees that had come here, most with at least some background in mining or hard labor, quickly helped him to organise our people into mining gangs, maintenance and repair crews, and construction teams.
Now another of his latest projects was nearing completion as well. The former US-Opportunity now sat amid the debri, disabled as repair ships worked to attach the replacement engines. The Duct Tape gang. Jimmy had never heard of them until now. They had been escorting one of the few Serpentis Transports - Jimmy knew of only 4 capable of transporting more than a couple of thousand units - which is why this "Serpentis Maximus" project was so important. He watched from the viewing portal as a small fire broke out, a static charge igniting something, then relaxed as one of the repair ships moved to contain the damage. The other repair vessel continued its work installing the upgraded scanning array - a trophy of battle taken from the wreckage of one of Jimmy's former victims - of the train, allowing it to detect danger at an increased range - a necessary modification given that the damage to the shields was beyond their ability to fix and the deterioration and subsequent removal of the entire weapon array. That meant excess power could be diverting to detecting danger before it got too close.
Jimmy was agitated now, thinking about some of the visitors he could expect here. All he had done thus far - creating this hideout-turned-production-facility had been done for simple humanitarian reasons, his compassion for human life. The Liberty Government couldn't exist without their suffering. If it stopped, they stopped. He had already given the Serpentis encryption full clearance, as well as a select few transport ships to ferry supplies from nearby Xeno stations and gather materials for ongoing expansion. It would be up to the top X.A. heads to decide who we could deal with.
He sipped the ale again, a chill running down him. He had well overstepped the amount of responsibility one of his rank would normally have. There were more than 800 on the installation at this moment, half of them crew, the rest workers, refugees or those seeking to avoid overcrowding. They would be here when they could, he knew the planning of the Death Valley extraction project had occupied most of their time As he waved for another bottle to be brought to him, he relaxed a little, placing his plaz-pistol on the table and putting his feet up.
Jimmy had had one rough trip and needed a drink badly tonight. As he entered the bar, he saw many of his adopted brothers, some serving in the Alliance for far longer than him. They looked to him now for direction. They had all heard the news. The Creek was under threat.
"My brothers, the true blood of Liberty. I would address this situation. I have had little sleep and thought deeply on the matter at hand. I want to propose a course of action." He paused, to make sure they were listening. Some looked up from their drinks, interested.
"You have all heard the news, I'm sure. The Liberty Government has gained intel on the position of our station. I have sent some transmissions in return to them, to confuse them and buy us time. Time to prepare.
I know you are all thinking I'm crazy to try to fight them. But I do not propose that. Not on the field where they will send their Navy lapdogs to destroy what we have worked for. For what we have bled for.
I would deceive them. I have sent a message indicating that this base actually belongs to a small Zoner mining operation. A complete lie, of course. But it'll by us the time I need to make a move."
"And what is that move?" Someone from near the porthole ventured "We can't destroy the whole Navy"
"Perhaps not, no..." Jimmy paused, letting that hang in the still atmosphere. They were all looking at him now.
"We have unconfirmed reports that many of the Navy's assets are in fact placed outside of Liberty's borders. I have requested intel and assets from the Hellfire Legion to see if they have noticed any movements and confirm or dispel these rumors. I have also asked them to place a force here to help fortify our installation. We have also completed another weapons platform, to be deployed later today.
No, I intend to follow their laws... I will register the station, or attempt to. They will undoubtebly send an diplomatic group to assess the base. Not as large as a seiging force, no. They will request docking rights to inspect the station. We will let them into the bay. And that will be as far as they go.
As we speak I am sending the Serpentis Maximus back to the Hellfire Legion full of H-fuel. With the profits from this H-fuel, we will bring back light arms and munitions, and fortify Oyster Creek as much as possible, equip ourselves with arms, and wait. This will hopefully give us a better chance should the Navy send a larger force here. Should they simply send a diplomat, we could hold them hostage. It will depend on the moves they make."
He has made his way into the centre of the room now, his voice raised.
"The decisions I make in the coming days will affect you all. I would hear what you have to say before they arrive. If you have a better idea, speak up. Offer your thoughts. We need a good plan. This is what I have right now. I need your help."
He stepped to the side, to allow for someone else to speak...
Charlie sat in the corner, sipping on a bottle of whiskey and listening to Jimmy speak. Charlie wasn't a Xeno, and honestly he disagreed with a quiet a bit of their ideology. He'd heard all about it day in and day out sharing a cell on the Huntsville with Ray Cyrus, who ran had taken over Liberty Free Radio, and liked to practice broadcasting to pass the time in prison. As much as he didn't agree with them, he called them family. They were the only reason he wasn't still sitting in that cell, so he figured he owed it to them to help keep their little station running.
"Look Jimmy, you guys busted me out of prison. Now I know you only took me along cause I happened to share a cell with one of your boys, but you've taken me in since then."
He stopped to look around the room and take a sip of his drink.
"Gimme a list of anything you need and I'll take a couple boys with me. We will take the Maria Scott and get you whatever supplies are needed. I've got some other smugglers I know of who might be willing to help too. I guess since the cats out of the bag now there ain't no point hiding it."
An older man, off in a corner slowly stood and walked towards Jimmy, he offered out his hand before speaking, "You've done right by the clan, provided us a safe home as we've plyed the lanes of Liberty, fought the good fight." Pride filled Sean's eyes. "We will take those to unlawful to remain back to Milford, then on-wards to Erie; I will gather funds for our cause return with alloy and hull panels. No doubt they will do much for the Creeks enforcement ." Sean grasped Jimmy's hand "Dear brother, I'll be back in a week."
The wafting sound was unmistakeable, there was clearly a bar on the station. He wandered through narrow hallways until arriving, at what looked like, converted storage tanks. Some big guy was standing on a tabletop talking to everyone before stepping down. The audience was gathered in small groups talking among themselves. Several stopped talking and looked at him as he entered.
"Typical", he thought. "But not unexpected. I'm the foreigner here."
He ignored their penetrating eyes, walked to the bar and perched himself on a stool. Two guys in the first booth were talking way too much.
"So Liberty Navy, after finding the base, threaten to blow it up unless the licensing fee is paid. We offer to pay it, and now the Navy looks like idiots, 'cause they just approved an outlaw base."
"Shh, keep your voice down, someone might hear you," the second second guy urged.
"Screw you, that's funny," the drunk exclaimed, chugging back another ale. "Liberty Navy - protecting the colonies as slum lords."
They both laughed, and even I had to smile at the irony.
The conversations got quieter, and eventually impossible to eavesdrop upon. The pager in my pocket went off. The loading bay was signalling the ship was now empty. I headed out while the crowds were still in session.
Follow the adventures of an Australian author marooned in America.
Jimmy listened carefully as the others spoke, but was summoned to a wall console to hear some interesting news. He couldn't believe it. It seemed they had bought some time.
He turned back to the room to give them the news, a wry smile on his face.
"My friends, it looks like we have delayed any threats for now. We have submitted altered papers that are well forged and should pass as legitimate for some time. We will run the base crew at a reduced crew and all interior insignias need to be hidden or removed. We'll let them inspect it, this one time while activity is lower. Consider it an evacuation drill. When they have left, we will set things back to how they should be.
You didn't expect me to tell them we are a Xeno base out here did you? That would have been suicide. No, we did some "careful preparations" on those papers. We will run Alliance operations from Milford until this is resolved. In the meantime, expansion will continue and things will go on without much danger or outside interference.
You guys know the deal, just keep the place discreet and business will continue to operate as normal, for now."
He sat down again, waving for one moere drink before preparing to evacuate most of the personal. He wouldn't risk having anyone on the Creek that could be recognised and potentially link to the Xeno Alliance movement. It would be temporary, enough to deflect any further focus on what was really going on here.
A few hours later an automated voice began blaring over the internal comms. The station went to dark mode, with red lights only. -
"Evacuate the station. Evacuate the station. This is not a drill. Repeat - This is not a drill. All Serpentis assets are to head to Milford and await clearance to return."
The message looped and repeated, and soon the distinctive warans and fighter craft, with their Alliance insignias proudly emblazoned, began their exodus to the nearby jumphole. The remainder, slightly above minimum crew levels, set to work to remove any incriminating graffiti and markings. The station would be combed from top to bottom in preparation on the impending inspection.
Jimmy was fortunate, due to his mask he had widely remained anonymous. This would allow him to oversee things on the station, and allow his partner to pose as the "real" Oyster Creek administrator. She had been so brave so far, he thought wistfully.
He still had work to do. He had to make sure the false papers matched as much as possible to the station's layout, and display non-incriminating information. The Xeno transponder was replaced with a Zoner code, largely copied from the Freeport in Bering. Trouble with Zoner friend/foe transmitters was that the Zoners had a habit of changing the encryption suddenly - what could be a legitimate signal one day could signal treachery the very next. With this in place, he told Deidre to submit the papers, while he worked on loading the lawful faction's docking codes. He would blame any discrepancies on atmospheric conditions.
He almost couldn't believe what he was doing. These people had hunted his brethren without mercy, and here he was holding the door ajar for them. He felt the bile rise in the back of his throat, but quickly choked it down. Such was the price of his illegal den in Texas.
"It's just for the week, it's just for the week..." He mumbled to himself repeatedly as he and his partner frantically worked on erasing any trace the Xenos had used the station up until this point.
Jimmy paced the corridors of the station, scouring it for any sign that this was actually a tactical raiding base associated with the Xeno Alliance. He was tired, his mind worn dull by thoughts of what could occur if this all went south. He wanted to vomit, it so pained him to submit to this situation. But time gained now was everything.
The Alliance assets had departed, scattering amongst the numerous small bases as quickly as he had gathered them. The scrap processing would provide a convenient story, as that much was true. Many of the shippers were using clean Freelancer licenses, the rest had made themselves scarce. This Lambert, he hadn't been able to find out much about him. Those were the dangerous ones.
An incoming ship... Now things would get interesting.
The general quarters alarm was designed to wake men from the dead, James Lambert thought, and it certainly wasn't doing good things for his headache. The shrill sound echoed once more through the cramped confines of the gunboat, and then blissfully went silent.
Now that he could think again, Lambert looked up to Lieutenant Commander Carmen, his executive officer. "Exec, status?"
"All crew accounted for at action stations, sir," she responded. "The Major and his teams are suiting up now."
"Good," he responded. "Power up guns and ready engines."
LNS Fearless sat at rest, floating in space somewhere in the Texas system. Liberty ships rarely went this far away from Houston and the lanes, but this was something of a special case. The bridge was tense, even though most of the crew didn't know their mission yet.
A strikingly young-looking woman sitting closest to the front viewport looked back at Lambert. "Destination, sir?"
He strode up to the main tactical plot, showing a view of the entire Texas system in three dimensions with nebulae, planets, and sun rendered in crisp detail. He eyed the plot for a moment before speaking. "Here," he said, finger stabbing at a specific point inside of a sinister-looking black nebula. When he pulled his finger back, a small purple diamond appeared, marking the place.
The young woman raised her eyebrows. "Into the Pequena Negra, sir?"
"Yes, Ensign Terrell. I am aware of the risks, but the Navy gives us the annual rads shot for a reason."
She hesitated a brief moment, then nodded. "Yessir."
The ship shuddered slightly under their feet as she engaged the cruise engines. It was only a few short minutes before a large black cloud loomed in front of them. The tension grew higher as the gunboat approached and then slipped into it. All went dark outside, lit only by momentary flashes of light from within the cloud. The debris was thick - the ashes of the Texas Incident that would probably never truly disperse. Lambert looked intently into the viewscreen.
"Ah-ha!" he suddenly exclaimed after a flash of light. "Ensign, twenty points to starboard."
The ship turned, and another flash of light illuminated the unmistakable outline of a space station. There was a collective intake of breath on the bridge.
Lambert just smiled. "Well, they're not shooting at us... I suppose that's a good sign. Lieutenant Hood, send them a docking request."
The contact loomed out of the darkness, an intimidating silhouette against the static discharges lighting up the debris every few seconds. Then the console began to beep in front of Jimmy and Deidre.
"Proximity alert. All Weapons are powered down."
"It's a Gunboat, we'll have to extend the docking arm. Watch for snags, we don't want this getting twisted up."
With the arm connected to the Navy gunship, Deidre got up from her console.
"I'm going down to the hangar. Stay here and comm me if anything else develops. I'll try and make this quick". She grabbed some documents, the carefully prepared ones for this visit.
Jimmy watched her leave. He was lucky to have her, he mused. He turned his attention back to the console.
----
Deidre entered the hangar just as the Navy group was departing their ship. She was dressed simply, practically, with no effort to emphasise her good looks. She held herself with the air of someone in a position of authority, as being impromtu base administrator tends to do to a person.
"Captain Lambert, I am Deidre, and I admistrate this station. We spoke via the communications last week. Welcome to Oyster Creek, our scrapping facility and small area of isolation. Don't worry too much about the crew, they are isolationists and will keep to themselves. We are loosely affiliated with Zoners who sometimes run us supplies, but most of our business occurs through Freelance operations."
Deidre was interupted by a bright flash and the sounds of the station groaning under some strain. The lights flickered for a breif second, then resumed full power.
"You will notice we are on the edge of the Negra, enough to be a deterent for random visitors. Those types of surges and false alarms are pretty normal under the circumstances. Any further into the Pequena and our operation wouldn't be feasable."
Deidre stopped there, trying not to rush things and giving the Captain a chance to speak.
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