“Oh, of course,” Roderick agreed.
“She’s a marvelous credit to us,” shouted Smith, so that anyone listening would hear this affirmation.
All grunted and harrumphed in agreement.
“You’re the owner of that ship yonder?” asked Roderick, pointing to the cutter with its crew disembarking.
Turning around to eye the ship with pride, the man nodded. “I am.”
“A fine vessel, it looks to be?” Roderick queried.
“She is…”
Smith gave a look that said plainly, “What in the devil!” He was very good at giving this look, receiving high marks at the academy.
“How much do you want for it?”
The cutter’s owner rubbed his chin. “Oh, I don’t know … it’s my livelihood, it is.”
“What if I traded you?” suggested Roderick. He pointed from the cutter to the great man-o-war behind them. “Your ship … for this?”
“By tugger, you’re not serious.”
“I am. It’s my ship.” Roderick’s chest puffed out.. “Isn’t it, Leftenant?”
“It is...” Smith began slowly.
Roderick waved a hand to end the discussion. “There, you see? Make your decision quickly or I’ll find someone else.”
“I … I mean, I’d be a madman not to take such an offer.” The cutter’s owner stared at the great ship before him. “How large a crew is required?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Roderick. “A hundred men? How many for your ship?”
“Just the eight of us.”
“We’ll trade then. You can have the crew of my ship, and I’ll keep six of your men. Leftenant Smith shall be my seventh.”
“Deal!” The cutter’s owner stuck out his hand, and upon shaking, became the owner of the man-o-war’s.
Roderick strolled down the dock toward his new ship. Smith, mouth agape, returned to his senses and gave chase.
“How could you give up that ship?” he demanded.
Smiling at his new prize, Roderick said, “This one’s better.”
Smith crossed his arms. “I don’t see how!”
Roderick’s smile became a resentful frown. “You wouldn’t.”
“No.” Smith shook his head. “No, I won’t go any further until this is resolved.”
Roderick didn’t stop. “That’s fine. I’m sure the ship can be crewed sufficiently with only seven.”
“And you can’t leave, either!”
With a sigh, Roderick stopped and turned to the Leftenant. He pointed at the man-o-war towering behind them. “That ship will draw the attention of every gunboat in the entire Dultuth armada, disloyal, filthy dogs or not. But this ship…”
Comprehension dawned on Smith. “… will slide into the currents undetected.”
“Detected, but not suspected,” Roderick corrected.
“If we’re going to impress the Queen, we’d better make a big splash.”
“You have something in mind, then?”
Roderick gave a sly grin. “It’s simply chess, Leftenant Smith. And I know how to capture the king.”
* * *
By stroke of coincidence, the newly acquired cutter was called Queen’s Iris, which remained a terrible name. But as Captain Roderick Langston had no intention of keeping the vessel, he decided against rechristening it.
The crew of the Iris was for the most part amenable to serving under a new captain. The two human crewmen had always wanted to be pirates, and were excited for the chance. The remaining crew were androids, and of course they didn’t care. Unless you programed them to care. And, that, nobody did. Why would they? Life is hard enough without programming your appliances to give you a hard time about doing their jobs, isn’t it?
Queen’s Iris was cruising through dead space, having just finished a week-long layover on a small asteroid popular with pirates, smugglers, and elderly tourists garbed in floral shirts. And while ship and crew seemed to be functioning just fine, Leftenant Smith was worried that his mission for the Queen would be a failure—very likely marking the end of his life—because of Captain Langston’s constant detours. He was worried that, instead of the trade currents, their next stop would be a tropical vacation planet, or a museum of natural history.
At first Smith had been accommodating. He certainly wasn’t a navy man, and so he gave Roderick the benefit of the doubt. But as the days passed without so much as a hint of the Dultuth (the disloyal, filthy dogs) he began to worry.
“Shouldn’t we leave?”
“Have more rum?”
“We really should be going!”
“Have you met Gloria yet? She has a sister. Probably.”
“I must insist we depart.”
“Soon. Tomorrow, maybe.”
Tomorrow had finally come, along with a promise that they would finally begin to prey on cargo ships. But how could Smith be sure that this objective was being undertaken? He was, after all, dealing with an incorrigible pirate. He decided to confront Roderick, and found him sitting on the bridge, spinning lazily—and perhaps somewhat drunkenly—in the captain’s chair.
“Oh, hello, Smithy,” he slurred.
He was joined by three ladies who looked to be of ill repute, all of whom Roderick brought with him from the asteroid. The attractive women seemed incapable of doing anything more than giggling. They were very popular with the crew.
“Yes. Hello.” Smith looked around the room. All of the crew was present, except for the androids, who had already made their way up to the sailing deck. “I’ve come to ask whether—”
“We’re going to steal from the Dultuth?” Roderick interrupted.
“Yes,” said Smith. Quickly adding, “The disloyal—”
He clapped his hands and sprang from his chair, then sauntered over to Smith and draped an arm around him. “That is, in statement of fact, exactly what we’ll do today. So sharpen your sword—”
“It already is.”
“… load your pistol—”
“It’s aimed at your spleen, even as we speak.”
“… and prepare to go topside.” Roderick pointed at the ceiling, indicating the exposed uppermost part of the ship known as the sailing deck. “Because we’ve arrived in Dultuth’s space lane primeria, and no amount of filthies, disloyals, or dogs can change the fact, Leftenant, that from here on, it’s death to any of the Queen’s privateers.”
Smith felt both pleased and apprehensive. “I suppose we ought to look for a ship.”
“Already found one, mate. It’s what we’ve been waiting for—though you certainly seemed intent on not enjoying our shore leave.”
A chime sounded from the helm.
Roderick smiled. “That would be them.”
“Who?” asked Smith, as the pirate rejoined the three women he’d brought aboard.
“Now ladies,” Roderick said, ignoring the Leftenant, “everything as planned, and you’ll never have to work another day in your life, though I can’t make any guarantees about the nights.”
The ladies tittered and crowded around the hailing console.
“On screen,” Roderick said cheerfully. He patted Smith on the shoulder. “Watch this.”
Smith watched with great interest as the women chattered at a blushing and excited Dultuth helmsman. The women were doing all in their power to be invited aboard. Smith looked at Roderick, and saw that he was mouthing phrases the ladies were employing, like a playwright looking on from the wings as the performers brought his work to life.
“Oh…” Roderick mouthed silently, even affecting the seemingly spontaneous burst of giggles. “We’ve never been on a real Dultuthian ship before.”
Smith shook his head, but Roderick didn’t seem to care as he continued on, mouthing, “Won’t you please have us over? We’ll be ever so glad you did.”
Naturally, the helmsmen readily agreed. Space is a lonely place, and with the exception of the starry mer-folk one might come across while traveling the galactic currents, almost entirely bere
ft of women. The delighted pirate smiled broadly, revealing a gold tooth just behind his canine. Bicuspids are so often overlooked.
The transmission to the Dultuth (the disloyal, filthy dogs) ended. Roderick applauded the women enthusiastically. “Bravo, ladies. Bravo.”
The women bowed, looking pleased with themselves at their performance.
“And now, let us all go topside,” Roderick said, swirling his finger in the air with a flourish. “We’ll imagine the galactic winds in our hair, maybe spy a dwarf whale, and … add a rather large and important ship to our little fleet.”
Smith followed the pirate towards the lift that led to the open-air sailing deck. “What’s to stop them from just asking the women aboard and leaving us here?”
Roderick was ready for this question. “We’ll say they’re our sisters. No one likes to split up a family. It’s rude.”
“In spite of the fact that none of us look remotely similar? Two of those girls have green skin and the third is nine feet tall!”
Roderick stopped and with both hands on the Leftenant’s shoulders looked him in the eyes. “There are two rules I live by: ‘You’ll probably get away with it’ and ‘People are idiots.’”
Smith stared back, unblinking. “That is, without a doubt, the worst philosophy of life I’ve ever heard.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Roderick said, “The galaxy is yet to prove me wrong.”
* * *
For many years, the brightest minds of the most advanced planets in the galaxy maintained that it was impossible to survive in space without protection. These people were, of course, idiots. History’s laughingstocks. This is why the expression “You can’t breathe in space” is used whenever someone is utterly and completely wrong about something, but won’t admit it. The galactic currents that carry starships along at very fast, almost unbelievable speeds, are quite nice. The air is warm and tinged with the subtle scent of sea salt.
Now, getting to these currents was a different matter. The patches of dead space that surrounded most planets were like deserts between oceans. And going out into those would result in the lung-bursting oxygen-deprived death those old scolds always banged on about. In fact, it was a suicidal merchant marine who first discovered that the currents, which had been used for centuries, were entirely habitable. The excitement of this discovery rekindled his will to live, and had the merchant marine running back inside the airlock to tell the rest of his crew. Ironically, he was eaten by a space slug two days later.
After the discovery, ships were redesigned to have top decks where sailors could play shuffleboard, watch the various space creatures swimming alongside their ships, and spit big, juicy, wet ones over the side. That was exactly what most of the crew—except for the androids—were doing.
The Dultuthians (the disloyal, filthy dogs) wasted no time extending a ramp from their massive frigate—the biggest any of them had ever seen—to the smaller Queen’s Iris. Four sailors waited at the top of the ramp for the girls. The rest of the crew busied themselves with their laser rifles, taking shots at the nebula porpoises that jumped and swam through the currents. These creatures were endangered, but that didn’t bother anyone. They were hideously ugly, with pale yellow eyes and a nose that looked like several moldy links of blood sausage flopping about everywhere. If you saw one, you wouldn’t be able to help but shoot at it.
Roderick followed the three women toward the ramp, and Smith, who, despite trying, could think of nothing better to do, did the same. This wasn’t how the Leftenant imagined a daring privateer raid would go. He had purchased new rope with which he thought to swing from ship to ship, and that now proved to be a complete waste of money. It was very nice rope, too.
“Not so fast, Leftenant.” Roderick gently pushed Smith back. “You’ll give away the game.”
Smith looked indignant. “I will not. Why?”
Fingering a gold button on Smith’s blue velvet uniform, Roderick said, “Because you’re still dressed up like one of the Queen’s bloody men.”
“I thought you said people were idiots? That we’d probably get away with it.”
Roderick scowled. “Well there are limits, obviously.”
Smith shook his head. “I’m not letting you go alone.”
Roderick whistled, and the five android crewmembers trudged towards them in that joyless way all robotics walk. “I’ll have the androids come along, we’ll say they’re the girls’ brothers, too.”
Smith waved an exasperated arm at the approaching machines. “They have ghost-white skin, yellow eyes, and circuit boards sticking out where their chest hair ought to be!”
The androids were a budget model, though that was hardly their fault, and therefore not very nice.
“People are idiots,” Roderick soothed him. “We’ll get away with it.”
“Oh? But my waistcoat, cummerbund, breeches and stockings? Those we won’t get away with?”
“Precisely.”
The sailors were very much taken with the three ladies, who were first up the ramp. They effusively complimented the women’s earlobes, which was quite a welcome bit of praise, as a woman rarely has her earlobes given their due. They showed deferential respect for big brother Roderick, shaking his hand and clearing their throats, offering repetitious assurances.
“Pleasure.”
“Pleasure, ahurm.”
“Pleasure.”
“Ahurm, pleasure.”
And so it went. The sailors, kept busy shaking hands and announcing their pleasure by Roderick, didn’t notice the androids, with Smith concealing himself in their midst, boarding.
They had gotten away with it. Roderick and Smith were of different minds as far as what needed to happen next, and it was Smith who took action first. Leaping from amid the androids, he brandished his sword and shouted, “Have at you, Dultuth!”
The sailors drew their weapons and prepared to meet his challenge, only to hesitate when Smith motioned that he wasn’t finished.
“… you disloyal, filthy dogs,” he concluded.
The sailors still hesitated, unsure of their next move. They didn’t want to interrupt the young soldier again.
Smith wave his sword with a bit of a flourish and reassured the sailors. “Thank you, no, that’s it. We can begin.”
A fantastic clanging of energy swords echoed across the deck. The ladies scattered into hiding and Smith chased the sailors, who, to be fair, were very good at sailing, but lousy at sword fighting, all around the deck. As he did so, he punctuated his every thrust and parry with a loud, “Ha!” or “Ho-ho!”
He really was enjoying himself.
The fun, sadly, couldn’t last. Though the sailors were unskilled at swordplay, there were a lot of them. And as alarms on the sailing deck wailed, more sword-wielding space sailors joined the swelling throng looking to run Leftenant Smith through.
“Ha ha!” Clang! Smith parried an oncoming attack. He saw the growing number of sailors and then looked to the crowd of androids milling about by the ramp. “Come on, then! Fight for your Queen!”
The androids made no reply. They were engaged in calculating the likelihood that when all was said and done, they would be the ones having to clean up the mess.
Smith looked for Roderick, who was nowhere to be seen. A sailor swung a club, and he jumped backward and kicked the man in the face. “Ho-ha!”
More sailors pushed forward until it didn’t seem to matter how many ha-ohs or parries Smith gave. They were closing with such numbers that the skill gap had been erased. The Leftenant couldn’t last forever like this.
As it happened, he wouldn’t need to. His headlong plunge into fighting turned out to be exactly the distraction Roderick needed.
“All right!” the pirate shouted from the lift opening at the rear of the deck. “Now everyone, off my ship!”
The sailors turned and discovered why that seemingly insane command was actually quite reasonable. Roderick stood with his blasterbuss held against the head of the king of
the Dultuth Empire, the worst of the disloyal, filthy dogs himself.
“Please!” begged the king. “Do what he says! What good’s an empire if I’m not around to run it?”
As his logic was unassailable, the sailors dropped their weapons.
“That’s right!” Smith crowed, pointing the tip of his blade toward the ramp. “Everyone off—off the ship?”
“Yes,” Roderick confirmed. “My ship.”
Smith let his sword hang down at his side. “But you already have a ship.”
Roderick regarded the Queen’s Iris. “Yes, but that was just to get a really big ship. The biggest. And now I have it.”
“You mean the Queen has it.”
Roderick ignored that with aplomb and herded the king over to Smith. He said, somewhat dreamily, “All that lovely cargo space. I can plunder two or even three ships before having to return to port.”
“Pirate,” said Smith, “you still work for the Queen…”
This seemed to snap Roderick from his dreams. He motioned for Smith to take hold of the blasterbuss aimed at the King’s head. “Here, take this.”
“And do what with it?”
“Whatever you’d like,” said Roderick with a bow. “Just so long as it’s off my ship. It’s chess, see? You’ve got the king, you win. And I’m free to do what I do best.”
Smith stood firmly in place.
“Go on,” said Roderick, shooing the Leftenant away. “Take the old dog to the Queen. She’ll probably make you a general for your troubles.”
“Not that!” shouted the King. “I left her once… I’ll do it again!”
Still, Smith did not move.
But Roderick knew how to fix that. He reached into his belt to retrieve his other blasterbuss, and placing it against Smith’s head, walked the Leftenant over to the androids, who gripped him tightly and returned him to the cutter and left him.
Roderick, the androids, and the girls, sailed away in their new ship.
Which would not be named Queen’s Iris.
About Jason Anspach
Jason Anspach is a bestselling author living in Tacoma, Washington, with his wife and their pirate crew of seven (not a typo) children. In addition to works of Science Fiction, Jason is the author of the hit comedy-paranormal-historical-detective series, ’til Death. Jason loves his family as well as hiking and camping throughout the beautiful Pacific Northwest. And Star Wars. He named as many of his kids after Obi Wan as possible. And he knows Han shot first.
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