Freebooter
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: Castle and Star Trek: Enterprise belong to vast corporations. UCSBdad is not any kind of corporation. Rating: K, but maybe more. Time: Some vague time in two alternate universes.
"A thousand pirates?" Trip said. "That's a hell of a lot more than they'd need to overrun this place. I think there's something you're not telling us."
"No, just something I haven't gotten around to explaining yet."
"What?" T'Pol demanded.
"When I came here, I knew I couldn't find much dilithium with my troops. I needed local workers."
"So, you're no different from this Ringo." T'Pol said coldly.
"I'm very different. I began raiding Ringo's slave raids and freeing the Vulcan slaves. I took them to a place near the JOM Cubed mine. There, I built housing, drilled a well, got them started with planting crops and fed them until the crops were ready. In return, they're quite happy to prospect for dilithium crystals for me. I don't have an awful lot, but I think I'll manage."
"I guess we just have to take your word for all that." Trip said.
"No. Let me call some people to talk to you."
He took the mic from Corporal Tarn.
"O'Rourke, please send the four auxiliaries here."
"Roger that, sir. Out."
Four men, dressed in desert camouflage uniforms left the ship and began walking to the main building. When they entered, everyone saw that they were Vulcans.
"You have become soldiers?" T'Pol demanded. "You have embraced violence?"
"No, First Mother T'Pol. We are unarmed and never carry weapons. But Vulcans who have been captured by the pirates and are suddenly liberated often do not know that they are safe. We are there to explain to them that Chieftain Castle will protect them and treat them well. We have heard on the radio what our chieftain has told you. It is all true."
T'Pol glanced at Trip who nodded to her.
"Very well. But why would this Ringo attack us with a thousand pirates? We could not withstand an attack by one hundred."
"That's our fault." Castle admitted. "We were contacted via radio by Ringo. We told her that we were recruiting workers by freeing her slaves. She's hoping to overwhelm us with superior numbers."
"And what's your plan?" Trip asked.
"I plan to shoot her pirates to bits. Little bits."
T'Pol and Trip again exchanged looks.
"Very well. How can we help you?"
"I'd like to leave Surgeon- Captain Renoir and her surgical team here to set up a field hospital. We have two small ship's boats we can use to evac our wounded. And we'd like to borrow some of your people who know the area."
"Very well, Trip and I will accompany you."
"Wait one." Trip said. "You're not going anywhere. No way."
"And how well do you know the area around T'Okar, husband?" She asked sweetly.
"There are lots of people here who know the area."
"Not really." Soval said. "We are farmers. We do not travel into the desert. First Mother T'Pol has had to go into the deep desert on a spirit quest. She knows the desert better than anyone."
Trip cursed under his breath.
"Okay, but I want a flak jacket and a helmet for her. And some bodyguards. And she'll stay with your headquarters, not out somewhere on point. And I'm not going to be more than six feet away from her at any time."
"Agreed." Castle said.
"I will show Surgeon-Commander Renoir where she can set up her hospital." T'Pol said. She turned to Trip. "Please get the gear we'll need, husband."
Trip sighed.
"Yes, dear."
As Trip was looking over his equipment and deciding what to take, Castle came up to him.
"If you'd like, when this is over, we can give you a lift to some inhabited planet where you can sign on as a ship's engineer."
Trip shook his head and smiled.
"No thanks. I didn't know it until I got here, but T'Pol is the woman I've been looking for all my life. She's everything to me."
"Okay. When we do leave, we'll see what we can leave for you to help you, T'Pol and T'Okar out."
"Thanks."
Trip was headed back to T'Pol with a flak jacket, helmet and web gear for her when an arm shot out from an alcove and pulled him in. The next thing he knew, he was being very thoroughly kissed.
"What was that all about? Not that I really minded."
"I'm the woman you've been looking for your whole life without realizing it?"
"How do you know that?"
"We Vulcans have excellent hearing."
Sergeant Gorad, the head of Castle's scout squad, looked through his binoculars at the pirate army slowly approaching T'Okar. Very slowly. He spoke to Corporal Dagar, his partner on the scout.
"I've never seen such a cluster fuck in my life. They're scattered over square miles of desert. Look, that group is stopping to eat while the rest go on. The ones nearest us are in a canyon heading away from the main body. Such as there is a main body."
Dagar shrugged and smiled.
"We knew they weren't soldiers to begin with. Good for us, bad for them."
"It just offends my sense of what's militarily right and proper to see something like that."
"Would you rather see the People's Liberation Army Guards Armored Division out there."
Gorad didn't bother replying to that.
Castle was with his intelligence team listening to radio intercepts from the pirates.
"Dammit, Konev, of course we're behind everyone. You have all the damned vehicles and most of the wagons and the porters I have are the sick, the lame and the lazy. Plus, my boys have to carry their own backpacks. How the hell do you expect me to keep up."
"Listen, comrade, I expect you to keep up because Captain Ringo expects you to keep up. If you've got a problem, talk to her about it. Otherwise, get your ass in gear and move."
Another conversation came up.
"Ja, Boris, I'm a mile from the freaking main body. I was given too little water, understand? One of the Vulcs said there's water out here and there is. I gotta let my people drink their fill and fill our canteens and water bags."
"Get your useless ass back here and get back now."
"Coming as fast as we can."
Castle's intelligence officer, Lieutenant Gran, shook his head.
"They have no concept of communications security. Their logistics suck. Nobody pays any attention to the chain of command. This is the worst army I've ever heard of."
"It isn't an army, Gran." Castle said. "Far from it. And we'll start proving it."
Sergeant Fa'an, the leader of Castle's sniper squad, was not happy. The pirates had two motorcycles that they used for reconnaissance. That is, they were supposed to be used for reconnaissance. As far as Fa'an could tell, the bikers did nothing but roar around the desert, enjoying themselves and not seeing a damned thing.
Worse, Fa'an had been assigned to kill one of the drivers. He was sitting stationary, not four hundred meters from Fa'an. Any Rifleman in the company could have made the shot. There was no reason to send their best trained, and best equipped sniper to take the shot.
But orders were orders.
He aimed carefully and sent the bullet on its way. Half of the pirate's head exploded. Fa'an rose and walked to the motorcycle. It was intact and he quickly pushed the rest of the rider off, got on and rode off.
When Fa'an got back to company headquarters he found a grinning Sergeant Foll sitting on a motorcycle and regaling the headquarters troops with how he'd gotten the bike.
"Clean the blood and brains off that thing, Foll." Fa'an snarled. "Someone around here has to look like a military formation."
Later that night, Second Platoon crept silently towards the rearmost of the pirate groups. First Platoon had already positioned itself between the target and the closest pirate groups to stop any counterattack by the pirates. Third Platoon was in reserve, and the two weapons platoons were ready to fire in support of the attack. They couldn't fire on the other groups of pirates because they were intermixed with Vulcans. Castle was determined to kill as few Vulcans as possible, but he was determined to give the pirates a bloody nose.
Lieutenant de Gautier had worked his way by crawling to within twenty meters of the pirates. He put his hand on something soft. It was a dead pirate, probably a sentry. The sentry's killer was waiting for him two meters ahead.
He signed to the Tarkai soldier, asking how many pirates and Vulcans there were. The soldier signed back that there were 161 pirates and a bit over 400 Vulcans. De Gautier stood up and waved his troops forward.
He himself walked to the nearest sleeping pirate and shot him in the head. Even with a suppressor on his assault rifle, the noise was enough to begin waking the pirates. The Tarkai fired one aimed shot at a time, while the pirates fired on fully automatic. They had mostly submachine guns, but the Tarkai could occasionally hear the deeper bark of assault rifles.
Castle's troops had night vision goggles, but the pirates had none. Most had no idea where they were shooting, but they occasionally got lucky.
De Gautier found himself on his back, feeling like someone had hit him in the chest.
"Sir, where are you hit?" Someone asked. It bothered de Gautier that he didn't recognize the voice.
"Chest, I think."
He felt furry hands moving over his chest and then under his vest.
"I don't feel or smell any blood, sir. I did find three dimples on the inside of your vest. I don't think you got penetrated."
"Help me up then."
"Sir, you should wait for Doc to check you out. You could have a broken rib or something."
"I'm okay and it looks like Doc is busy with a Vulcan. Get me up."
Two soldiers lifted their lieutenant up. De Gautier stumbled towards the firefight thinking that he'd feel like shit in the morning.
"Sir," said Sergeant Mollo, his platoon sergeant, "the pirates are mostly running like hell. They're leaving their backpacks and even their weapons. I've asked First Platoon to pivot so they can take any pirates heading theirs under fire."
De Gautier looked around. There was very little shooting going on in his area. He could hear the Vulcan auxiliaries yelling in Vulcan.
"Shit." He swore and checked his translator. It was broken. He hoped the Vulcans were listening to the auxiliaries and not running like hell.
"What about our casualties?"
"One dead, sir." Mollo said. "Rifleman Porak. Took a submachine gun burst to the neck. Severed his spinal cord. Three walking wounded. Lance Corporal Pru needs a medevac."
"How about the Vulcans?"
"Maybe twenty dead, sir. They're pretty tough, so most of their wounded can move on their own. Doc says we have to medevac seventeen of them. Maybe more."
De Gautier grabbed the mic from his radio operator and called in the two ships' boats being used to medevac wounded. As he handed the mic back, he staggered back, having been hit by something just under his right eye.
"What the fuck?" He said.
Mollo picked up a spent 9mm round.
"Must have been fired from well over a kilometer away, sir. It didn't have enough energy to even break the skin. You'll probably have a black eye tomorrow."
For the first time, de Gautier looked beyond his own area of the battlefield.
"Look at that." He said. "Every pirate is shooting at something."
The whole area was lit up with muzzle flashes as every pirate at anything and everything they thought might be dangerous.
"Some of it's hitting us, sir." Mollo said.
De Gautier took the mic again.
"Redleg Six this is Bravo Saber Six. Fire mission. Over."
"Bravo Saber Six, this is Redleg Six. What do you need? Over."
"Redleg Six I want your 81 mike mikes to fire flares at the following." De Gautier read off the coordinates he wanted shelled.
"Copy you want flares, Bravo Saber Six? Over."
"Roger that. My position is taking fire from several pirate groups. I don't want to mortar them directly for fear of hitting Vulcans, but maybe the pirates will think the flares are the beginning of an attack. Over."
"On the way, Bravo Saber Six. Out."
TBC