Ganymede Plunder

by Richard Parry

  “Yep.”

  “Nothing but ghosts and trouble there.” Nate gestured toward the aft sections of the Cataphract, closer to Engineering. “Hold’s there.”

  “You an expert on starships?”

  “Not as such.”

  “Trust me. The bridge is what we want.” Dom scuttled toward the ship, keeping the ridge line between him and Pearl’s crew.

  The bridge is what we want, or what you want? But Nate followed Dom anyway, because his gut said Dom was trying to do the right thing, even if he ignored all the valuable and sellable items in the Cataphract’s hold.

  Care was needed as they made their way across. The moon didn’t cling to them like the fake Earth-like gravity of Cadence’s port-wide Endless fields. If Nate tried for speed, he got height instead, and being above the ridge made him a target for mischief.

  Despite his care, he still caught and passed Dom, whose Earther origins showed in his movements. Nate grinned. Reaching the bridge first was an unspoken competition.

  Nate shored up beside a hunk of hull metal sticking from the ground like a broken tooth. He peeked around the side of his makeshift cover, observing Pearl’s team. None watched the front of the Cataphract, making this almost easy. Nate dug a toe into the icy ground, launching himself. His jump took him in a sweeping arc to clang against the ship’s hull. Nate clambered up a metal ladder toward an emergency airlock set below the bridge. His fingers found purchase on the sill and he pulled himself up in Ganymede’s easy gravity.

  The airlock was already open.

  Dom scrambled up beside him. He puffed like he’d been running. “It’s not a race.”

  “Says the guy at the back.” Nate pointed to the airlock controls. “This was open when I got here.”

  “That can’t be right.” Dom frowned. “This whole ship is locked down.”

  “And yet, here we are.” Nate put hands on hips, squinting into the Cataphract’s gloomy interior. “No one home.”

  “Best we get inside and recover our prize.” Dom stepped forward, switching his ship suit’s lamps on. Spears of light led the way.

  “You haven’t told me what we’re looking for. Weapons of the Empire. Fangs of the gods. I get all that. But I also note we’re out here with a tiny surface craft, looking to loot a massive Navy freighter. Not likely we can get much cargo back to Cadence.” Nate switched his ship suit’s lights on too. Something about the Cataphract made Nate feel nervous.

  Dom flashed a grin. “Some weapons are deadlier than others.”

  “Some people need to be murdered more than others, too,” warned Nate.

  “Won’t be long now. Come on.” Dom headed off like he knew the way, feet sure on the decking. As they walked deeper into the Cataphract, gravity clutched at them, holding them close. The ship’s Endless fields must still have power.

  The path to the bridge was straightforward. A short corridor lined with escape pod doors, all still ready for use. No one abandoned ship. A ladder, gleaming metal rungs showing good Navy maintenance. A quick scramble up, and they reached a bulkhead door. Someone forced it ajar, warnings on the glowing panel beside it warning of ATMOSPHERE BREACH. Dom pressed the panel, and the door opened all the way.

  The empty bridge waited for them.

  “Umm,” said Dom into the silence.

  “Where is everyone?” Nate looked around. The captain’s chair sat vacant. Consoles still stuttered a vain hope humans would return, and the bridge holo glowed a warm white, the stage empty.

  Dom paced the bridge, slinging himself onto a station’s acceleration couch. He tapped on the controls. Nate frowned. The Emperor in Waiting had skills. Nate wouldn’t know how to log into a starship console, let alone how to extract useful intelligence. “The ship’s logs are clean.”

  Nate keyed his comm. “Valerie?”

  “Give me one reason why I should talk to you.” Valerie sounded like it should be a good reason.

  “We’re on a derelict starship. There’s no one here. The bridge is empty. The airlock was already forced.” Nate paused. “Also, Pearl is here with a hundred guys. It’s possible Dom sent us on a wild goose chase.”

  Dom raised an eyebrow. “Hey, now.”

  Valerie growled over the comm. “What do you need?”

  Dom leaned back on his borrowed acceleration couch. “I’d like to know why they scrubbed the logs.”

  “I’d like it to be Christmas every day, but we don’t always get what we want.”

  Nate sighed. “What are we looking for, Dom?”

  Dom looked about to answer when a grinding, groaning noise came from the back of the bridge. The airlock to the ship proper opened in a squeal of metal. Nate found his sword in his hand with no memory of drawing it.

  “Nathan Chevell.” Revealed in the open doorway was Pearlescent Fang, his massive bulk barely contained by his ship suit. Beside him were five of his guards, all with blasters trained on Nate and Dom. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Chapter Three

  Nate’s first instinct was to lunge for Pearl’s goons, but the slightest head-shake from Dom held him in check. If Dom’s got a blaster and doesn’t throw himself in there, maybe waiting’s the wiser choice.

  It didn’t feel right, though. As Nate handed his sword to a man with a face so scarred it made the angels weep, he forced a smile. “Pearl. Pearl. We got here first.”

  The big gangster lumbered close. His ship suit stretched tight over his massive frame, and narrowed eyes were visible behind his visor. “Shut it. You’re a weaselly runt. It’s lucky I don’t blow a hole in you and leave you leaking oh-two into Ganymede’s night terrain. I’m doing you a favor.”

  Nate pondered that as Dom handed over his blaster butt-first to one of Pearl’s thugs. She was a younger woman who gave Nate’s friend an appreciative glance, but did her job anyway. “Pearl, I don’t want to appear ungrateful, but this doesn’t feel like a favor. A favor’s the kind of thing where a friend helps you move a sofa. Favors don’t usually come at gunpoint.”

  Pearl nodded, then slugged Nate in the gut. Nate hissed air and pain in equal measure, curling over, but not dropping. Pearl hadn’t hit him as hard as he did last time. Nate held up a hand for clemency. “I got you. It’s a favor.”

  “You good, Nate?” Dom held steady by the console, dark eyes flashing.

  “No, but don’t die on my account.” Nate rubbed his stomach, straightened, and turned his smile up a notch. “So, what next?”

  Pearl pointed to his team. “You’re going to tell them where it is.”

  “Where what is?”

  Pearl shook his head. “We’re still in favor territory. You don’t want to stray from the path.”

  “He means the weapon.” Dom looked at his boots, scuffing them on the deck.

  “I’m confused.” Nate looked between them. “Which weapon?”

  Dom sighed. “It’s like this.”

  “Hold up,” said Nate. “Pearl, how many people did you come here with?”

  Pearl looked up, considering. “A couple hundred.”

  “No, I mean to the bridge.” Nate pointed behind Pearl to the open airlock. “I counted you, plus five.”

  “Sounds right.”

  “Why are there only four?” Nate did another quick count, then turned a slow circle, checking the rest of the bridge. Four goons, and Pearl. “You’re one short.”

  Pearl swiveled around, his glare twice as grim by the time his gaze landed on Nate again. “Someone ran.”

  “I don’t think so.” Nate took a cautious step forward, and when Pearl didn’t slug him again, kept going. He reached the airlock door, bent, and retrieved a sword. He held it up. “Behold.”

  Dom blinked. Pearl sighed. “It’s a grimy sword.”

  “It is, but it’s my sword. Three-quarters of a meter of hammered death.”

  “It’s worthless street steel.”

  “Also true. But moments ago it was held by an extremely ugly man. A face no one would forget.” Nate nodded
, encouraging. “Does anyone here look that ugly?”

  The younger woman who’d eyed up Dom frowned. “Jorge ain’t pretty either.”

  “Hey,” said a less-ugly-than-scarface man. That’ll be Jorge.

  “While it’s true Jorge will have to work harder, I think we can agree that we’re down one.” Nate hefted his sword again for emphasis. “And he left a perfectly good blade.”

  “I don’t think it’s that good,” offered Dom. “That’s a crummy weapon.”

  Nate sauntered back to Pearl, weapon held low, so no one would get the wrong idea. He fashioned a glare of his own. “Pearl, where’s your man?”

  Pearl pointed to the young woman. “Monty, find Jack.”

  Dom glanced at the woman. “Monty?”

  “My name’s Montserrat.” Monty gave Dom a shy smile.

  “I’m Dom.” Dom offered a smile of his own.

  “Monty, I need you in the back finding Jack.” Pearl put his hands on his hips.

  “I don’t think that’s wise, because now we’re down another.” Nate pointed with his sword to an empty space previously occupied by one of Pearl’s goons.

  Monty backed against a console. “This isn’t good.” She glanced to Jorge. “Jorge, did you see where Sheldon went?”

  “We should go,” suggested Dom.

  While Pearl thought that through, a blaster tumbled from the gloom of the aft airlock to land at his feet. Everyone stared at it. Dom took a cautious step forward. “That’s mine.”

  “Was.” Pearl shook his head.

  “Regardless of what the common law of ownership states about stolen goods, that blaster was on my hip not five minutes ago.” Dom squinted into the airlock leading to the red of the ship. “Does anyone want to leave?”

  “I do,” admitted Nate.

  A slight tremble of the decking alerted Nate. He turned, ducking low, as a man sprinted from the side airlock he and Dom entered through. The newcomer’s armor was black as night, eyes wild behind his visor. He made for Jorge, leaping over a console.

  Dom bent, scooping up his blaster. He fired from a crouch, blue-white plasma crackling. Nate’s visor dimmed in response, saving his vision. When it cleared, Jorge was gone, and so was the crazy man.

  “We’re leaving,” announced Pearl. “Monty, you’re up front. Ruben, the rear.”

  Ruben, the last remaining pirate other than Montserrat, shook his head. “Boss—”

  “Does this look like a committee?” Pearl hustled for the airlock Nate and Dom entered through. “Let’s go.”

  Six wild-eyed black-armored troops rushed from the aft airlock. Nate saw their mouths open in silent screams. Dom grabbed his arm, dragging him away. The crazed soldiers swarmed Pearl, Monty, and Ruben as Nate and Dom slipped out the side door.

  Their boots clanked on the deck as they ran. Nate’s breath rasped in his lungs. He didn’t remember the trip down, but they made it outside to the meager gravity of Ganymede. Being under Jupiter’s gaze felt like a relief. Nate’s ship suit fans blew cool air on his face as he and Dom got their breath back.

  “We need to get out of here.” Dom eyed the Cataphract. “Come back with a better plan.”

  Nate eyed the airlock’s dark maw. He thought about Pearl’s punch, and how almost feather-light it had been despite the bulk of the man behind it. “No.”

  “No?”

  “You get on. I’ll follow in a while.” Nate straightened, holding out his hand. “Could use your blaster, though. I’ve a debt that needs squaring.”

  The Cataphract waited for him, silent. Nate crept along corridors dark and empty. Dom was outside, readying their escape vehicle.

  Nate keyed his comm. “Valerie?” No response. A comm jammer would explain a lot, but most especially why the remainder of Pearl’s men didn’t come for the pirate lord.

  Why didn’t Pearl kill me?

  It was a good question, but better saved for when Nate wasn’t being hunted by half-crazed soldiers on a derelict ghost ship. The Cataphract’s hull shook, the deck beneath his feet vibrating. Horror stories of breached reactors came to Nate’s mind, but he clamped down on the fear. If the reactor blows, you’ll be dead before you know it. No use worrying.

  The twists and turns of the ship left him disoriented. He wasn’t sure if he’d find Pearl this way, but he found a discarded blaster, then another, like breadcrumbs on a horror trail.

  Nate slowed, peering around a corner. No one there. His suit’s lights showed an open doorway, a dim answering glow within. It was the first time he’d seen signs of habitation, so he made for it.

  Through the door was a room about seven meters each side. A big metal coffin stood upright in the middle, a glass panel revealing a face inside. Beneath the coffin, bound like spider victims, were Pearl, Monty, and Jorge. No sign of the others.

  The person in the coffin looked young to Nate’s eyes. Hard to tell because they were asleep or dead. Weird thing: they were bald, like a baby mole. They didn’t even have eyebrows. It was hard to tell through the rime on the glass, but the face looked female.

  Pearl’s visored head lifted at Nate’s approach. His eyes widened slightly. “Chevell, you’re the last person I expected to see here.”

  “Favors, Pearl.” Nate walked closer, crouching in front of the giant pirate. “Like, why you didn’t kill me. This is a treasure ship, make no mistake, and yet here I am, still breathing. Why?”

  “Because I like you.” Pearl looked away. “The contract was for the coffin. No witnesses. I took it to mean no witnesses of that.” He jerked his head to the sleeping-slash-dead person above them. Pearl’s voice quietened, almost a whisper. “Hell, I don’t know.”

  “Can’t say as I like you.” Nate drew his street steel. At Pearl’s intake of breath, he shook his head. “If I was going to kill you, you’d have a blade in your hand and a will to defend yourself.” He cut Pearl’s bonds, the big man rubbing his shoulders as he stood. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Pearl looked down at Monty and Jorge. “No witnesses, Chevell.”

  “Don’t be a dick.”

  “What did you say to me?”

  “I said, you’re going about this all wrong.” Nate cut the bonds securing Monty and Jorge, but slowly, because he didn’t want to take his eyes off Pearl. “They’re unconscious. Writ of law suggests they haven’t seen anything.”

  Pearl nodded, the motion mired in treacle like a part of his brain needed more convincing than the rest. He lumbered toward the coffin, working on a console set into its side. After a moment, the lights inside the coffin flickered, the big case popping free of its mounts.

  The big pirate grappled with it, hauling it with a screech of tortured decking. Nate winced. “Could you make more noise?”

  “Yes.” Pearl gave a savage grin. “They’re just people. Soldiers, sure. On drugs and the sanctity of a higher purpose, but people all the same.”

  “The ones who took you?”

  “The very same. Do you know how to tell if someone’s a monster?”

  Nate frowned. “Bared fangs. A lust for blood.”

  “It’s the killing.” Pearl hauled the coffin through the door, his ship suit lights dimming through distance.

  After he’d gone, screeching following in Pearl’s wake, Nate nudged Monty with his boot. No response. He sighed, slung his steel back in its scabbard, then bent, tossing her over his shoulder.

  He wasn’t sure of the way out but scrape marks on the decking showed Pearl’s path. He followed, head on a swivel, eyes everywhere. Why would guards take prisoners intent on stealing crown jewels? Why would they leave them in a weird room with a coffin and a dead kid?

  Hard questions. Maybe Dom would know. He might also know why all five of Pearl’s goons weren’t with the coffin. Might there be other coffins?

  Nate reached a jagged rent in the Cataphract’s hull, starlight and the orb of Jupiter staring through. Here, the Endless grav plates felt weaker. Below, Pearl hustled the coffin onto the tray of Dom’s craft
. The two argued. Nate hefted Monty through the gap, careful not to tear her ship suit, then drifted down to Ganymede’s surface in the lazy gravity.

  “She’s not awake?” Pearl made it sound like an accusation.

  “Drugged, maybe.” Dom sounded doubtful.

  “Maybe,” said Nate. “I’ll be right back.”

  “You’re not going back inside, Chevell?” Pearl sounded surprised, like he’d discovered Nate was a lunatic, fit for an asylum.

  Nate ignored Pearl, turning to Dom. “Don’t leave.”

  Dom nodded. “You have my word.”

  “I’d prefer the buggy.” Nate offered a grin backed by hollow bravery, before heading back inside.

  Somehow the Cataphract felt warmer this time. Not welcoming, but hot, like the devil himself woke in her broken heart.

  It’s not hot. You’re in a vacuum. You’ve got a ship suit, proof against fire, radiation, and harsh language. Still, his shoulders bunched as he felt invisible eyes follow him.

  He went back to the room he’d left Jorge in, navigation easy by the scraped deck plates. Inside, no Jorge.

  Nate did a double-take. Definitely no Jorge. Cut bonds were on the floor beside an empty slot where the coffin used to be, power lines dangling free. No spare pirate.

  Nate whirled, catching a black-suited figure running for him. Faster than thought, Nate drew Dom’s blaster. Blue-white plasma roared, hitting the crazed soldier. The body fell back, dead.

  Time to hustle. Nate darted to the end of the corridor, looking around. Movement ahead drew his eye. He ran, rounding a bend. Two black-suited troops had Jorge, hauling the unconscious pirate away.

  Eyeing the distance, Nate fired. He caught a guard in the shoulder, the body tumbling as its suit vented atmosphere. The other dropped Jorge, loping toward Nate. Nate fired three shots, the actinic glare of blaster fire lightning in the dark.

  The guard slumped to the deck, dead.

  Definitely time to hustle. Nate ran to Jorge, slinging the unconscious pirate over his shoulder. He jogged back the way he’d come, thanking Ganymede’s modest gravity for lessening the load. He made the rent in the hull in no time at all. Fear was a powerful motivator, and Nate had no problem admitting it.