Port Stanley, New Falkland Star System
Captain Simon Tovey RN pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stave off the headache that he could feel coming his way as he sat behind his desk in his stateroom aboard his ship, the Third Rate Ship of the Line, HMS Temeraire. The news coming in was bad to say the least, and it didn’t look like it was going to get any better, and it had quickly been disseminated across the entire squadron. The Admiral had been missing for over a week, hope of his survival had been dwindling steady until one of the Frigates sent out to discover the fate of the Admiral had reported back. The Admiral’s flagship, HMS Collingwood, and its escorting frigates had been totally destroyed with all hands. In one fell swoop the Royal Navy had been dealt its most stunning defeat in decades; a Second Rate Ship of the Line and four Fifth Rate frigates had been destroyed, apparently without being able to take the enemy down with them, as what unidentified wreckage remained was insufficient to constitute an entire ship. And the worst part of it was, no one had any idea who was behind this attack.
The first, instinctive, reaction had been to presume pirates. But this was swiftly discounted, after all the Royal Navy was ruthless in its pursuit of pirates and was extremely effective at keeping them away from British space, as a result any pirates within several hundred light years of a British colony were more likely to turn and run then face any British Warship, much less a Ship of the Line in combat. Sure, it was possible that some pirate force had been able to acquire for itself a powerful capital ship to take on the Royal Navy, but to destroy a Second Rate… it didn’t bear thinking about. No, the more likely answer was that the Collingwood, and her erstwhile Admiral, had fallen afoul of some other Star Nation and paid the price. Unfortunately that didn’t make it any better, indeed it made it more complicated. The British people were unlikely to allow something like this to go unanswered, if it had been pirates it would have been a travesty, but it would have been simple; they’d have been utterly destroyed. If it was another Star Nation, this could be the start something a lot messier.
And it was already a damn difficult situation. As an independent squadron, separate from the three main battle squadrons of the Royal Navy, those ships on the New Falkland Station had only had one Admiral, the late John Cochrane. With Admiral Cochrane dead temporary command had fallen to Tovey, as the senior Captain, but his authority only extended to defensive actions, not offensive endeavours. He had therefore strove to organise the defence of the New Falkland System, should it come under attack, whilst awaiting orders, or a new Flag Officer, from the Admiralty. A fast Sixth Rate Frigate had been dispatched to the British System and word was due back any time now. Without orders the Squadron couldn’t go out looking for blood, no matter how much they might want to avenge their Admiral, starting a war with a foreign star nation was a decision that had to be made by His Majesty’s Government, and not one that could be made unilaterally by His Majesty’s Navy. So the Squadron would remain here, safely under the guns of Fort William, the battle station tasked with defending this most distant of British Crown Colonies, a formidable protection to be sure.
Captain Tovey sighed heavily and turned his chair to look out the wide expanse of windows at the back of his cabin, known as the Great Cabin. It was located high on the aft portion of the ship, above the engines and looking out over the stern of the ship. It was actually a small complex of rooms that took up a fair portion of the stern on this deck. The centre portion, in which he was sat now, was a combined office and conference room, in front of his desk there were a handful of chairs, but between the desk and the door leading to the rest of the ship was a large ornate table, either for holding a dinner or a meeting. In addition there was a real fire and comfortable chairs surrounding it, and the entire main compartment was well-decorated. Off to the starboard side was his sleeping accommodation and en-suite heads and shower, whilst on the port side was another more private work and storage area. Compared to other cabins aboard the Temeraire, Tovey’s cabin was huge, but he was the Captain, so it was only what the had earned over his many years of service.
There was a slight chime and the voice of the senior of the two Royal Marines standing post outside of his cabin followed shortly after.
“Signals Officer, Sir.”
“Send him in Marine,” Tovey replied. “Lieutenant Pasco, what can I do for you?”
“Captain, the Phoebe has returned,” Lieutenant William Pasco replied, referring to the Frigate that had been dispatched to the Admiralty to report the situation and receive orders. “Captain Smith is signalling and requesting permission to come aboard.”
“Is the Phoebe flying an Admiral’s transponder?” Tovey enquired curiously.
Where there had once been signal flags there were now highly encrypted transponders that worked as a failsafe to any of the more complex methods of communication, indeed they were so well encrypted that some Flag Officers reverted solely to transponder signals rather than the more easily intercepted communication channels.
“No Sir, she’s not making any unusual transponder signals at this time,” Lieutenant Pasco shook his head. “She’ll be coming alongside in a few minutes.”
“Very well, pass my compliments to Captain Smith and my permission for him to come aboard directly,” Tovey replied with a nod. “Ask my Marine to send for my steward on your way out, would you?”
“Aye Sir,” Lieutenant Pasco nodded, saluted and departed.
A few moments later Tovey’s steward, Petty Officer Jamie Lavery entered the Great Cabin. Tovey quickly instructed him to arrange for coffee, tea and some light refreshments to be brought in. The Petty Officer nodded and departed, and even as Tovey watched the much smaller Frigate pull alongside his ship of the line the refreshments were beginning to be brought in, so that by the time that Captain Smith was piped aboard and escorted aft it was all set up. Tovey rose and shook the hand of the younger Captain with a warm smile. Captain James Smith was a full decade younger than Tovey, he had only made the Captain’s list the previous year, and the Phoebe was his first official command., prize commands notwithstanding. Never the less Tovey liked what he saw in Smith, ambitious and audacious he would make a hell of a Captain, he wouldn’t have progressed so rapidly from Lieutenant otherwise, patronage or no, and unlike many officer he had jumped straight past Commander and been appointed a post Captain at the age of thirty. Tovey liked to think that he reminded him of himself ten years previously, and he wasn’t far wrong.
“You bring orders from the Admiralty?” Tovey asked presently, after they had both sat down beside the fire and sipping tea. “The Squadron will be pleased I am sure,”
“Indeed I have,” Smith nodded and reached down to his briefcase and pulled out a moderately thick envelope, complete with the Seal of the Admiralty, and handed it over, it was still tradition for formal orders to remain written, on paper, as they had for centuries. “I’m as interested as anyone to find out, the Admiralty refused to tell me anything.”
“Sounds like them,” Tovey agreed and cut the seal and opened the envelope, he pulled out the first sheet and read it promptly. “Oh my.”
“What is it?” Smith frowned. “I say, don’t keep it to yourself.”
“Listen to this,” Tovey smiled. “To: Captain Simon Tovey, RN, as of this first day of October, in the year two-thousand-three-hundred-and-five, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Rear Admiral, and are to take upon yourself the responsibility of Commanding Officer of the New Falkland Station and her attached naval squadron.”
Captain Smith looked surprised for a moment, before leaning forward to extend his hand.
“My congratulations, Sir,” He said with a broad smile. “Very well deserved.”
“Thank You, I just wish it hadn’t taken the Admiral’s demise for me to get it,” Tovey sighed. “Alright, let’s have a look, what do they want us to do.”
The next set of documents were detailed orders on what he was authorised to do in response to what the Admiralty had assumed, as he himself had, was an attack by a foreign national on British Warships. He was authorised to take the bulk of the New Falkland Squadron, leaving only a handful of frigates to ensure that Fort William retained some mobile assets, and endeavour to locate, and if found destroy, the naval force that was responsible for the destruction of HMS Collingwood and her consorts. At that point he was to proceed on the assumption that a state of war would exist between the Stellar Kingdom and this so-far unknown enemy. Whilst one of the three large battle squadrons was marshalled and moved into a forward position (most likely the New Falkland System), the Foreign Office would send a envoy to see if whoever was responsible for the attack was willing to make the kind of concessions that the Stellar Kingdom would demand, and if not, there would be general war.
“Well, the word is given, we have authorisation to go after these bastards,” Tovey said simply, then depressed a stud on the armest of his chair. “Marine, pass the word for Lieutenant Pasco and Lieutenant Commander Pulling.”
Given the slick efficiency for which the Royal Navy was renowned it wasn’t long before the two Lieutenants had arrived in the Great Cabin. Pasco was of course his Signals Officer, Lieutenant Commander Edward Pulling was his First Lieutenant (as the Royal Navy had returned to the original meaning of the rank; 'Commander of Lieutenants'), and would fill the role of his Flag Captain until one could be appointed, which was unlikely to be soon. Rather if Tovey was able to bring the enemy squadron to battle, and win, it was likely that Pulling would be promoted to Captain anyway, it was traditional for First Lieutenants to be promoted after a successful engagement, at which point he could officially take up his position as Flag Captain.
“Gentlemen, we have our marching orders, Edward, I want you to make sure that we our supplies are all aboard and that we are ready in all aspects to proceed to space,” Tovey instructed. “Lieutenant Pasco, please activate our systems to fly the transponder of a Rear Admiral and instruct the squadron to prepare to depart, we make for the battle site.”
The Black Star
Shipwreck Station, Tortuga Nebula
Pirate Captain Jonathan Beckett couldn’t help but smile at the sight surrounding the bedraggled, but still immensely impressive, form of Shipwreck Station. The largest and most powerful pirate enclave at the heart of the Tortuga Nebula was a fortress, designed to provide those who called themselves Pirates a safe haven where not even the British Royal Navy could not reach them without a major, and bloody assault, and as long as the pirates that called Shipwreck home kept its location a secret (and weren’t stupid enough to attack British shipping too much) it had been their haven. Now the station was surrounded by ships of varying kinds, mostly brigs and sloops (albeit heavily modified) as well as a handful of frigates, but it was a powerful force none the less. There had not been a gathering like this in decades, as much as Shipwreck Station was a safe haven and the Brethren of the Stars a loose coalition, but pirates still tended to disagree with each other and betrayals or slights could easily escalate into conflict. Beckett new that there would be a number here that had issues with him, or whom he owed money, so he had avoided the station for some time.
Never the less he was not just any Pirate Captain, he was a Pirate Lord having inherited the title from its previous holder whom had been his mentor, which meant that he was one of few who had the right and privilege to make decisions, and the decision of the Brethren Court would be implemented by the personal power and influence of the Lords. And so when the call had gone out, Beckett had responded.
He had a suspicion he knew what it was about, everyone knew what had happened, and the response it was likely to bring but hoping earnestly that it wouldn’t be aimed at them; Shipwreck Station was a powerful and well supplied fortress, but if the full force of a British Fleet came at them… they couldn’t stand up tot that kind of firepower. He knew, for he had been a King’s Officer in his youth, before he had been screwed over by his superiors and forced on the run. He had salvaged an East Indiamen, a ship designed to be fast and carry respectable armament, and he had turned it into a formidable attack ship, carrying thirty-two main armament guns he could take on below-the-battleline warships, if that was what was required, which meant that he could dominate civilian ships.
There wasn’t much in the way of traffic control around Shipwreck Station, you just flew in and tried not to crash into other people. The Pirates, smugglers and other criminals who called Shipwreck Station home were very eager to embrace the concepts of freedom, many of them shirked the chains of the law in order to attain some concept of freedom. That didn’t mean that they weren’t murdering criminals, but many of them, such as Beckett, had some concept of honour, they wouldn’t kill people who didn’t resist them for example. Beckett knew that if the Royal Navy caught him then his crew would be shot without question and he might live just long enough to face a trial for High Treason as well prior to his own execution. But it was the life he had chosen, he had become a very rich man during his time as a Pirate Captain and lived an enjoyable and luxurious life when he could. All of that was at risk now.
Beckett, and the Brethren, had made a profitable living by deliberately not provoking the Royal Navy, as a concerted effort by the British would, eventually, find Shipwreck Station. So news that someone, or something, had destroyed a British Warship, and a Second Rate Ship-of-the-Line at that, was deeply concerning as it would bring a significant naval force into the region. Even if he was confident that the King’s Officers on the New Falkland Station (the closest naval force to the Tortuga Nebula) would have (correctly) discounted the possibility that the Brethren were responsible it was unlikely that a reinforced squadron would not also seek out and destroy any pirate enclaves they found. Moreover, there was also the very real threat posed by whatever had destroyed His Majesty’s Ship Collingwood; whatever could do that to a Ship of the Line would make short work of Beckett’s faithful East Indiamen. No, tensions at Shipwreck Station were high, and even as the Royal Navy arrived at the scene of the Collingwood’s destruction, the Brethren of the Stars gathered to decide on they too would respond.
