by LeRoy Clary
I went to the table and sat in one of the tall chairs. “What’s that?”
“Ice cream. You should try some.”
“Where’s Stone?”
“With Fang, I think. Can we just order what we like? I mean, if I want more ice cream, do I just ask for it?”
“Use your wrist-comp or the menu on the table surface. Touch the rim to bring it up. It shows what they have available and the cost.”
“Captain Stone just asks the steward for what she wants.”
I leaned closer. “Stone, just Stone. Nobody needs to know any more about her than that.”
“Stone does not look at her wrist. She asks the stewards.”
“Oh, for the sake of shutting you up, call a steward over here.”
To my utter surprise, he did. He lifted his chin without consulting his tablet and said, “Ice cream for both of us. Three scoops, but none of that yellow kind. Double up on one of the others.”
The steward smiled as if they shared a small joke.
I was so proud of him. When we’d met, Snotnose had been an introvert, and others on the street often took out their frustrations by beating him. It had taken years to build his self-confidence. Now he was ordering stewards around as if he’d done it his whole life.
He leaned closer. “Stone said I could study and learn to make things for the ship. Maybe to become an engineer or maintenance worker.”
His eyes were alight with hope and anticipation. Even if I didn’t wish to go with Stone on her ship, I’d have gone with him because of that look. It was a hunger for learning, for improving his station in life. It was a future for him. I’d do anything to make that dream of his come true.
I decided to seal the deal. We hadn’t had time to discuss it so far and it seemed perfect. “I want to go with her on her ship. I can learn how a trader operates, we can see new worlds together, and I don’t know how we fell into such a good thing.”
“We have to talk to Bert,” Bill said.
“I’m sure he will want to go along, at least, for a while. After we go back to the cabin, we can see what he thinks. By now, he’s probably investigated everything there is about traders and their ships. He can offer us good advice. I say we listen to him.”
Stone barged into the galley, took one look at us, and jerked her thumb to point the way. “Our cabin. Now.”
If she was still trying to hide her authority and that she was a starship captain, she was doing a poor job. All eyes were on her. There was no mistaking the crack of authority in her words and tone. All action and conversation had ceased in the dining room with her first order.
Our ice cream arrived.
We left it untouched and scrambled to our feet. Fang was already in the passageway, against a wall where he couldn’t get stepped on, probably a self-defense mechanism learned when he first started hanging around with creatures the size of humans and larger. A glance behind when we reached our cabin door found the green thing hopping at our heels. His diminutive size didn’t slow him down.
Fang entered the cabin with us as if he were one of our group. I watched to see how and when Captain Stone would throw him out, and how far. Instead, she motioned for him to move to the far corner where he was safe from our clumsy feet.
“Listen up. We have problems,” Stone said.
The cabin went silent. Even the tapping and clacking from Bert’s location ceased.
Hands on hips, she paced two steps in one direction, then returned, the length of the cabin floor, if two steps in any direction can be considered pacing. She spun on us and said, “I sent a coded subspace message to the Guardia. The return gave me no details, but the message had one of three responses. All is well, or not bad and we’re handing any problems, or we’re in deep shit. The latter was to be used only in extreme circumstances.”
“That’s the one they used?” Bert said from the other cabin. “You didn’t make it clear.”
Stone said, “I’ll make it clear now. It was the worst case.”
Bert said, “You’re talking about the sort of trouble where your ship has been confiscated or heavily damaged? Not just a poor business transaction.”
“If someone else took control of my ship, like the government of Roma, there would not have been a return message. No, something is going on at Escobar Habitat, but my First Officer and crew knew the backup plan if one of those things ever happened. Or backup plans. We have more than one. The message tells me my ship is no longer at Escobar Hab.”
For some reason, my eyes went back to Fang. Why was he in here?
And why was I always referring to aliens as male? That was not like me. Not that I care, but both Bert and Fang seem to have male attributes. Or maybe I was just assigning them. Whatever, it didn’t matter. I shifted my attention back to Captain Stone, and yes, I used the title in my thinking because the way she was acting was as a captain, not an upset passenger.
“Where is your ship?” Fang asked.
“One of three alternate places, depending on the type of trouble they encountered.”
“Why did you think to send a subspace message?” Bert asked, appearing at the doorway from under his burrows for the first time since we boarded. His fur was ruffled, almost dull. His face was serious.
Stone turned to him, looking almost surprised as if she had forgotten he was a digger and sometimes appeared at unlikely places and times. I watched the brief interchange.
Bert was upset. Stone was furious. She snapped, “I made a few bets and won a lot of credits. Even if I pushed the limits, there were no laws broken. At most, Roma should have banned me from future betting. Instead, there’s a manhunt for me like few I’ve ever seen.”
“There’s more?” Bert prompted.
“Our new friend Fang, I’ll introduce you all later, was going to drug me and collect the reward. He hinted there was another bounty hunter on board, and that got me wondering about what the hell is going on. Winning a huge amount of money wouldn’t bring the heat we’re getting—and I assure you the amount was not that much.”
“Possibly two others,” Fang said evenly. “Certainly one. Just to be clear.”
Bill and I exchanged one of our private looks. This one meant neither of us knew what was happening. We were completely confused. It seemed there were now five of us, and the others were talking way above our heads. Better to keep quiet and listen.
Bill and I were not going to pull out of a sweet deal like the one we’d fallen into, but we were not going to be stupid either. If there was danger, our usual plan was to run. As if by mutual consent, we turned to Bert. His eyes were half-closed, his attention elsewhere. Inside his shoulder, the small computer was probably working overtime as it connected with whatever ones he’d gathered since boarding the ship. Bert was trying to figure it out too.
Bert didn’t disappoint us. “The Malabar and the Bright are the bounty hunters, right?”
Fang looked surprised as it turned every eyestalk in Bert’s direction. Fang inhaled deeply, probably using another sense to understand Bert, and asked, “How did you know?”
Bert snorted in the way that meant Fang had asked a stupid question and said, “The Bright was fined for cruelty to a prisoner in its custody on the desert world of Mankins a few years ago. That indicates, or at least, hints it is a bounty hunter or law enforcement. The Malabar bought passage on this ship only a few tenths of time after us. The grav-sled she rode to the spaceport picked her up a few buildings from our old home. She had just paid for another lunar-cycle of rent at her hotel and forfeited it. That means she was somehow notified and chased after us.”
“Enough,” Captain Stone said, proving she was used to giving orders. “Bert, this is bigger than us. I want you to focus on what is happening on Roma that also concerns Escobar Habitat. I’m thinking big. A war? A new alliance with an unknown race? A government takeover? Go find me a hint of what would make my ship break away from Escobar in a panic.”
Bert spun and disappeared into the connecting cabin.
We heard him snuggle into the covers.
Stone glowered.
I said pleasantly, “You and Fang seem to be getting along.”
She turned to Fang. “What are your plans for the near future?”
“Eat, drink, make new friends.”
“Want to talk about a job?”
“I’d rather speak of a partnership.”
Stone laughed bitterly.
Fang didn’t.
I looked at Bill, not knowing what to do.
Bert called from the other room, “Pirates.”
CHAPTER TEN
Captain Stone
The mention of pirates brought Captain Stone abruptly alert. Her anger turned cold. She turned to the door and shouted, “What the hell are you talking about? Pirates only exist in fiction.”
Bert replied calmly, “No need to shout, I can hear you quite well. Pirates are buccaneers, swashbucklers, and adventurers that prey on honest shipping. I believe we have an outbreak of piracy or something similar. Not government or military.”
“I know what pirates are. I’m about ready to throw all those clothes you hide under out the nearest airlock before the pirates board us,” Captain Stone continued as her eyes scanned over the others in the room. She was searching their faces for support.
Bert mumbled, “In which case, a nearby pirate ship on a parallel course will probably recover them because they might believe you are trying to hide something by ejecting it. They might attempt boarding this ship if they are after you.”
As she turned to face the connecting door and the unseen Bert, she said, “Pirates cannot stop a ship while it’s traveling under warp or in wormholes.”
Fang said easily as if taunting her, or perhaps explaining a fact she should understand, “They can threaten to destroy this ship with a small proximity missile unless we stop before entering a wormhole. That would work, I’d imagine.”
“Then they get nothing,” Stone snapped. “Even pirates won’t waste an expensive missile just because a small ship like this won’t stop.”
Fang said softly as if hating himself for the idea, “Unless that crab in the Comm room instructs the ship to break warp.”
“The Champers? Why would it do that?”
Fang paused, then rushed ahead with words tumbling over each other, “While I cannot be certain, I suspect it is about to lay eggs. It didn’t strike me when we were with it and we were sending the subspace message, but the Champers’ thorax was fully extended. Males about to birth with eggs tend to be emotional and want to protect their offspring with a secure home.”
“I concur,” Bert called. “The ship’s records of subspace transmissions show the Champers has made several inquiries for passage to its home world. The cost is far more than the employee of a small ship like this can afford so it was attempting to locate a ship with an open berth going in that direction.”
“Pirates?” Stone said again as she kicked an imaginary object near her toe. “It sounds ridiculous because they do not exist. Everybody knows that. How do they fit in with Roma and Escobar? Tell me that. The two places couldn’t be more different.”
Bert called down from his bed, “I may have a partial answer. We do not have a holo-display at hand to demonstrate but take my word. The physical relationships of Roma, Escobar, Tanager, and a small mining world called Prim, form what could be a protective shell around the entrance to this sector’s primary wormhole. A small defensive force could hold the entrance and prevent travel through it unless the travel fee was paid, or ships inspected. They could halt all traffic exiting before the ships can enter warp. A total blockade, for an unknown reason.”
Stone snorted in derision. “Extortion. They can’t do that.”
“Again, who will stop them?” Fang asked in his throaty voice.
Bert said, “There is no coordinated interplanetary police, no local armies, and until a force is agreed upon by the affected local worlds to oppose the pirates. I see no reason they cannot succeed. Considering the races occupying those worlds, and their lack of cooperation with each other, that unity may never happen. This is a peaceful portion of the sphere with most races benign or solitary.”
“Since they will not work together, and separately none has a space force large enough to intervene, it is a perfect location to set up a blockade.”
Captain Stone looked ready to explode with anger and frustration. “No trader will pay extortion rates to enter the wormhole, so the idea of the pirates stopping all ships is worthless, if true.”
Fang said in a softer voice, “What about those ships exiting the wormhole? They cannot just reverse course and go back through. They are as much as captured at the nexus.”
Stone tossed her arms up into the air in exasperation. “What do I have to do with it? Why are the pirates concerned with me?”
“Who says it is about you?” Fang hissed.
“Me. That’s who,” Stone retorted. “They’re only after my ship and the one I’m a passenger on, as far as we know. What else am I to think?”
Fang rolled a pair of eyes, looking completely underwhelmed. “True, as far as you know. What if they intercept a thousand other ships? Is it still because of you? We don’t have all the facts.”
Silence was the only response.
Bill finally said, “That’s a good response to a captain.” He faced Stone. “Can I suggest Bert look into your background for a possible answer?”
She strode two steps to face him from inches away. Their noses almost touched. She said, “To what purpose?”
Bill refused to back off, even if he had room in the tiny cabin to do so. “If you are important to them, there must be a reason that we might be able to exploit. If not, we’re wasting our time.”
Bill’s vocabulary rarely exceeded one-syllable words and never complex when simple would suffice. His statement had made an impact on all of them. He was correct to wonder why the pirates were interested in her. If they were.
Those who knew Bert didn’t doubt his conclusion that there were pirates. No matter the modern name: outcasts, a criminal syndicate, or buccaneers, the result was the same. A small group had formed and taken control of four planets, well, three, and one habitat. That action blockaded entry and exit to the wormhole and allowed them to capture and hold any ships emerging.
However, correct that idea might be, it didn’t answer why they wanted Captain Stone.
Maybe they didn’t want her, but her ship, the Guardia. If that was true, again the same question: why? Everyone’s faces indicated they were considering the same questions.
Stone elbowed her way to the door to the passage. She paused and turned to them. “If that crab of a Champers is going to turn us over to someone, we have to take over the ship and prevent that from happening.”
Fang said, “I believe I can access the crew and officer’s territory. The security is rudimentary.”
Bill said, “I’ll go with the captain. Kat, you better go with Fang.”
Bill and Stone were out the door before anyone could object. Fang turned four eyes in Kat’s direction briefly and snorted, “You’re with me. Do not, and I mean this sincerely, allow me to come to harm.”
Fang hop-walked down the same passage the others had used but paused at a door proclaiming NO ACCESS in bold, capital letters. He said to Kat, “This way. Do you have a weapon?”
“No,” she said.
“Well, grab a fork, knife, or something that will make a good club and lead the way.”
There were none of those things in the bare passage, only metal walls, ceiling, and floor. She turned the door handle. Locked.
Fang said, “The ship is old, the mechanics worn. Turn the handle as far as you can and strike the door with your shoulder. Hard.”
She did. The thin metal door slammed open. Another passageway lay ahead. They stormed along for the ten steps to the next intersection. Fang called from far behind, “Left.”
Kat turned left. There were only two doors. Well, one thin interior d
oor and one sturdy air-tight hatch. Her palm on the sensor didn’t open it, so as Fang caught up, she spun the override wheel and watched the six locking bolts retreat.
Fang said, “Sloppy. What good is a lock if it is not used?”
Behind the door was the ship’s bridge, the control room for the ship. It was small, the walls crowded with screens, monitors, and digital gauges. There were two high-backed chairs on swivels, one occupied by a dead man wearing a uniform and a hat with gold braid on the visor.
Fang instantly took command. He shouted to Kat, “Lock and secure that damned door. We don’t what his killer coming back for us.”
She spun the wheel again and when the locks were in place, Kat shoved an iron pin that had been dangling from a small chain beside the door into a hole in the wheel to prevent it from turning, a simple solution, an effective and simple lock.
Fang had already managed to climb into the empty chair. He swung a set of controls on rotating arms to where he could easily reach them. The screens on the wall came to life with his touch. He growled, unhappily, and menacingly. Kat said nothing.
She’d never been on a spaceship, let along on the bridge. And never with a dead captain. However, Kat knew generally what one was what because of entertainment vids and had no direct experience.
Fang used the word “override” several times, issued a series of inventive curses, a few which tinged Kat’s cheeks pink, and then followed with a satisfied grunt. The “feel” of the ship changed, the vibration slightly different, and the background noises grew more intense.
“What’s happening?”
Fang jabbed a flipper in the general direction of the largest screen, the one in the center, and said, “Look for yourself.”
Kat did. There was a black background with tens of thousands of stars on it.
Then she noticed one of the stars was shifting positions. No, two were. They were not stars. They were approaching ships.
