Pirates of the Timestream by Steve White

Author:Steve White [White, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Military, Science Fiction, Fiction, Action & Adventure, General
ISBN: 9781451639094
Google: x0fGNAEACAAJ
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2013-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The spacecraft was about as small as vessels equipped with the negative-mass drive came: somewhat over eighty feet long, shaped rather like a rather thick blunt-nosed arrowhead with the housings of the drive’s twin nacelles causing the sides to bulge. It was typical of craft of its class in all respects, and clearly its owners were from approximately Jason’s own time. Such vessels were used for a variety of specialized roles, for which modular options were available . . . including the option of a turret for a weapon-grade laser like the one into whose orifice they now gazed. Looking more closely, Jason thought to identify the model as . . .

“A Kestrel,” said Mondrago in a low voice, confirming his supposition. “Escobar-Ramakrishnan Spacecraft makes it in a gunship model—in fact, this is pretty much it. Notice the weapon pods attached to the hardpoints. Those are Firebird missile launchers. I don’t know why they think they need stuff like that in this era. They probably just left them on because they’re a standard feature of this model.”

“Sounds like you’re familiar with it.”

“We sometimes used them in Shahinian’s Irregulars,” Mondrago nodded, referring to his former life as a merc. “Flying them wasn’t my job, but I checked out as a relief pilot.”

“I see.” Jason filed the last datum away for future reference. He himself was a qualified pilot, but the Kestrel was new to him, and in any event he was rusty.

The Kestrel extended its landing legs and settled down onto them with a wheeze. Its ventral hatch hummed open and lowered the access ramp to the ground. In any other circumstances, Jason would have been bemused to see two men dressed and tattooed as pirates descend that ramp, armed with laser carbines. They were to all appearances African, which might or might not mean anything in the case of Transhumanists. Their ethnicity did nothing to disguise their membership in the enforcer castes, if one knew the signs.

“Hands in the air!” one of them snapped. He then ran a sensor over the group. He smiled when it flashed at Jason’s pistol. He took it and smashed the butt against a rock. Zenobia’s dagger was also confiscated. Then they were motioned inside the Kestrel.

Passing through the open airlock, they entered at the rear of the main cabin. The Kestrel was not a vessel designed for long-term occupancy. At the forward end of the cabin was a small, raised control bridge with seats for a pilot and a copilot/communications officer; otherwise, the cabin held seating for a weapons operator at a small console and for five passengers. Aft of the cabin was a cargo hold, and then the engineering section, including the photon drive used for maneuvering in a significant gravity field once the ship rose above the altitudes where grav repulsion’s efficiency dropped off.

Under the prodding of the laser carbines, they moved forward toward the bridge, where a man sat on the pilot’s seat to the left, which he had swiveled around, and draped a leg negligently over an armrest.

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