The Corsair Uprising Collection, Books 1-3

by Trevor Schmidt

  “He’s real.”

  “Great,” Ju-Long said, his sarcastic tone audible even through his breathing apparatus. “Another baddie to add to the list. Does anyone else think we should maybe rethink this whole hero idea? We should at least cross a few of them off. You know, clean house.”

  Saturn regarded Ju-Long scathingly.

  “You think parading yourself around Garuda has made you less of a target?”

  “Let’s not forget that I’m not the one with a price on my head. Someone hired that guy in blue for a reason.”

  “Enough,” Nix declared, hardening his glare. “Now is not the time. Our top priorities need to be treating Liam and preventing this thing from spreading. The Dinari don’t speak of the Phage lightly, so you probably don’t know the extent of the danger we’re in. We can worry about assassins and revolutions soon enough, but the first day after infection is critical.”

  “What do you need from us?” Saturn asked.

  “We need to get rid of this blood carefully. It seems like most of it is on the stone, which means we can fry it with lasers. It’ll leave a mark but it’s better than the alternative.”

  •

  “Thank you for coming so quickly, Elder Bartle.”

  Nix led an aged Dinari through the front door of The Sand’s Edge, taking the old man’s leather bag from his flimsy hands. Nix’s breathing mask lay abandoned on a far table, the crew’s decontamination efforts complete. Saturn looked up from the bar and climbed off her stool. She’d been growing more distressed with every passing minute and medicating with the remnants of a strong bottle from Riken’s private liquor stash. The barkeep would never know the bottle was gone, she hoped. Saturn waited expectantly for the elder to speak, fighting to focus on his face.

  The elder Dinari appeared to be permanently hunched over, detracting from his already slight stature. His scales had turned softer with age, with wrinkles that made his skin look like poorly-maintained leather that had cracked in the potent sun. The Dinari’s golden eyes seemed tired, more tired than Nix had remembered during their last encounter years prior. He hadn’t come around much since his last disagreement with Zega. The elderly man leaned most of his weight onto a thick branch that Nix knew to grow near Garuda’s great lakes, flexing slightly with each careful step.

  “How long has it been since infection?” Elder Bartle asked in a quivering voice that was barely more audible than a whisper.

  “About three hours,” Nix replied, taking the elder’s over-cloak and folding it neatly over his forearm.

  “Has he been quarantined?”

  Nix spoke to Elder Bartle with a reverence reserved for seldom few, and with sincerity that was even less common.

  “Yes, Elder. I’ve seen to it personally.”

  “Good. And the decontamination procedures?”

  “Finished. Ju-Long and Astrid are out back burning everything that’s come into contact with him since the event.”

  The old Dinari looked up at Nix and nodded his approval. Elder Bartle’s sagging features jostled as he continued toward Saturn. He examined her face briefly, but Nix could see the old man take in far more than he let on. The Elder had a way of seeing which left boundaries behind and transcended into some deeper meaning.

  “You are his lover?”

  Saturn blushed, her mouth unable to form a response.

  “Do not fear, child. We all must bear our burdens. It just so happens that now is your time to do so. One way or another, it will pass.”

  “Will he die?” Saturn struggled to ask, trying to hide the alcohol on her breath.

  Elder Bartle considered the question momentarily before replying, “Someday, but if we act quickly, not this day.”

  Nix put a ginger hand on the elder’s shoulder. The old man nodded and said, “Take me to him.”

  “We should get you a mask,” Nix suggested, picking up his own from the edge of the bar and preparing to strap it over his face.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  Nix froze.

  When the elder noticed the look of shock coming over Nix’s face, he continued, “The Phage was no match for me as a boy, and I’d wager my body remembers a thing or two about its old foe.”

  11

  The door creaked and groaned as it swung inward. Saturn stepped through and was presented with a plastic sheet that spanned the length of the room, leaving only a few meters in front of it in which to walk. Elder Bartle and Nix followed her inside, their feet causing the floor to groan in protest, the dusty floorboards sending up particles only visible through the thin bands of light that pierced the sheet. Saturn and Nix had elected to wear their masks and gloves as a precaution, but the elder had stayed true to his bold statement and wore only his thin brown cloak, cut off partway up his arm in a swooping curl with the tiniest ornate golden inlays, perhaps a sign of his elevated status.

  Elder Bartle’s thick cane thumped against the floor as he leaned his weight into it with every measured step. He ran his fingers along the plastic sheet until he found a slit and pushed through, advancing on the blurry figure resting on the floor within. Saturn noticed tiny flecks of blood had found their way onto the sheet, making the scene appear more like that of a homicide than that of a hospital room. Liam’s silence behind the sheet had her worried. She couldn’t even make out the movement of his blurred chest. For all she knew, he might have been passed out from the pain, or worse.

  The elder sat his bag down beside Liam and removed several articles. He prepared a glass syringe, filling it with a liquid that glowed an eerie green, and delicately injected it into Liam’s arm. Liam grunted his discomfort and half-heartedly swatted at the elder. The old Dinari ignored Liam’s objections and finished administering the cocktail. Liam was still once more, his Dinari Death Shroud mask casting a curious shadow along the floor, visible only by the rays of the partly open window. The mask was a grotesque, ancient thing, that made Liam resemble something innately evil. The deep, swirling grooves of the mask were clear even through the plastic sheet, his matted blond hair sticking out at angles under the veil.

  “What was in that syringe?” Saturn asked, her voice muffled by her breathing apparatus.

  The elder didn’t turn his attention away from his patient, but said casually, “With any luck, something that will help turn the tide.”

  Nix leaned toward her and said quietly so that Saturn had to listen closely to hear, “The Phage Sickness is neither bacteria nor virus alone. It is a virus that infects bacteria. It’s using the bacteria in Liam’s own body against him.”

  “How is it stopped?”

  “It is like a fire. As long as there is oxygen it will burn. The Phage changes the structure of the bacteria, warping them from something relatively benign into something deadly. To stop it, we need to kill the bacteria is his body.”

  “So it’s cured with simple antibiotics?”

  “No,” Elder Bartle said.

  They had been speaking so softly, Saturn hadn’t realized the elder could hear them. She saw his blurry face turn toward her through the sheet of plastic, his bulbous golden eyes drooping in and out of the present as though the small effort had taxed him.

  “If your species’ anatomy is similar to our own, we must kill as much of the bacteria in his body as possible before we can administer our treatment. Otherwise, the Phage would be too strong to fight. Time is a factor.”

  “When will we know if it’s working?”

  “In a few hours the medicine I just gave him will take full effect. It’s important that he eats nothing for the time being. He wouldn’t be able to digest much at this point.”

  Elder Bartle used his cane to return to his feet and he shuffled through the slit in the plastic.

  “What do we do until then?” Saturn asked him.

  “If you’d like to stay with him, Nix and I need to speak. Call for us if his condition appears to change, otherwise I’ll be back to check on him in an hour’s time.”

  Saturn nodd
ed to the old Dinari and watched Nix lead the elder out the door. The thick wooden planks shuddered as Nix closed the door, the loose iron handle jangling against itself. Saturn turned her gaze back to Liam, his blurry mouth moving under the mask as though trying to say something.

  She stepped toward the sheet cautiously. The floor creaked with every step and flecks of sand blew through the slit of a window, bouncing off the plastic sheet and onto the deathly figure. She found an angle where she could clearly see the mask that covered his face. It was surreal, like something emblazoned on the walls at the Temple of Re on Garuda’s godforsaken moon. It might have been a monster or a creature stolen from a Dinari legend. From what little Saturn knew about Dinari lore, it appeared that a lot of their legends were based in truth. Their ship, The Garuda, was proof enough of that fact as it was the literal embodiment of the soul of a mighty creature.

  The mask covered most of Liam’s face but left the bottom lip of his mouth visible. It was haphazardly strapped to his face since it was made for the shape of a Dinari head. Somehow it still served to cover the bulk of his face without much finagling.

  Saturn put a gloved hand up to the sheet and found her lip quivering. She bit down on it until she could taste iron on her tongue. She didn’t have the luxury of feeling sorry for herself or for Liam. Not now. He needed her to be strong. If anything happened to him, she would have to lead their crew.

  “Saturn?” Liam breathed out.

  “I’m here.”

  “You shouldn’t be.”

  Saturn moved along the sheet toward the wall, only a couple meters from Liam’s head, and put her back against the stucco surface, sliding down into a seated position and feeling the rough exterior dig into her white tank top and cutting into her skin. Saturn didn’t notice the pain. She hugged her legs and rested the round filter of her breathing mask on her knees, careful not to break the seal against her cheeks.

  “I won’t let you die.”

  Liam let out a short laugh and said hoarsely, “It’s not up to you, is it?”

  “Maybe not.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, Saturn trying to think of something comforting to say but unable to come up with anything useful. Finally, Liam asked her, “Do you remember our first mission?”

  “Things were a lot different back then.”

  That was an understatement. Still, no matter how far they’d traveled and how different their surroundings, trouble always seemed to find them.

  “I remember you were just as stubborn.”

  “So were you,” Saturn retorted defensively. “How much do you even remember? You were pretty out of it.”

  Liam tried to laugh once more but the effort quickly turned into a ghastly, bloody cough.

  He rasped, “Not a lot.”

  Saturn asked him, “Do you know why Vesta Corporation chose us for that mission?”

  “No, why?”

  “We were the only ones dumb enough to accept. I doubt Vesta expected us to make it through in one piece. No, given what happened, I’m sure of it.”

  “Well the joke is on them, because we’re still here,” Liam said, a fleck of blood shooting out of his mouth and finding its way onto the hanging plastic sheet. “What really happened on that first mission? I only remember bits and pieces. When I think about it, my head still hurts.”

  Liam raised a quivering hand to his temple, pressing down gingerly just to the right side of the Death Shroud mask. Saturn imagined the shroud warding off evil spirits. As a child on Mars, she was told stories of a creature that took colonists during the night, never to be seen again. The creature was said to be red like the planet’s surface and blend into the shadows with ease. She knew they were only stories, but her spine tingled even thinking about it.

  “It’s a long story,” Saturn finally replied.

  “It looks like we’ve got time.”

  Saturn closed her eyes tight, thankful that her mask would hide her tears. The mission itself wasn’t the hard part, but rather what happened afterward. She doubted if she would ever tell him about the torture that ensued. The months of interrogation and the humiliation. As far as Liam knew they’d gotten away clean. He could never know. She wouldn’t have him blaming himself for what happened. She would tell him the short version.

  “You were still passed out when the Terran military boarded. I tried to wake you but you’d hit your head pretty good. Before long we’d found ourselves in the detention area.”

  •

  2142 A.D. – Terran Military Vessel Dauntless

  “Liam,” Saturn said, shaking her colleague’s shoulders. “Wake up.”

  Liam Kidd’s eyelids creaked open and recognition slowly came into his icy blue eyes. He sat up on the solid metal slab of the detention cell and cradled his head in his hands, checking the bump at his right temple for blood and finding that it had been sealed by a thin layer of adhesive. Saturn moved toward the thick Plexiglas door and banged her fist on it, generating a dull thud in the hallway beyond. The door was one solid piece of the thick glass-like material with a border of steel around the edge, creating a hexagonal pattern that repeated itself in the inlaid details of their cell.

  In the center of the door, the face of a military official appeared, projected clearly from an unseen source. He wore a nondescript grey uniform complete with a simple metallic insignia and a metal band which curled around his forehead and connected to the silver implant on his right cheekbone. His tightly cropped brown hair was hardly more than stubble, but accentuated his downturned mouth and the lines on his cheeks that suggested a near permanent scowl.

  Perhaps more unsettling were his eyes, cold and grey as his uniform. The hologram might as well have been monochrome because it would make no difference. His ashen features made him look half-dead as it was. Long periods in the cold and dark of space had likely transformed him into the downright vampiric man who was projected before them.

  The military official barked, “Your vessel is being searched now. If you cooperate with us and tell us where the stolen goods are, I’ll appeal to the courts for a reduced sentence.”

  Saturn crossed her arms and stood her ground.

  “Do you know who you’re dealing with?”

  “We scanned you when we brought you aboard. Saturn Vera and Liam Kidd. Wanted on suspicion of smuggling, racketeering, fraud, bribery, money laundering, assault…and that’s just you Ms. Vera. Shall I move on to you Mr. Kidd?”

  “Don’t lump me in with her,” Liam said woozily.

  Saturn ignored her associate and focused on the stolid man before her. “You must be new.”

  “On the contrary, I’m just not on Vesta’s payroll.”

  The official’s crooked smile was off-putting. He didn’t seem like the type to be receptive to special arrangements, but she thought she’d give it a shot anyway.

  “I can make arrangements for you if you like.”

  “I see you want to add another count of bribing a public official to your list of crimes,” the man said, pointing off-screen, “Make a note to put that in my report.”

  Saturn ground her teeth together. One of the only perks of working with Vesta Corporation was they were supposed to ensure this sort of thing didn’t happen. They would tear her ship apart trying to find the goods, but she’d hidden them well. It would take hours for the Terran military to find them amongst all the rest of the cargo.

  “You have nothing to say?” the official asked.

  Saturn smiled, placing her hands on her hips and projecting her confidence. There was no way she was going to let someone like him intimidate her. She was Saturn Vera. Did he not know what that meant?

  “Just one question. What do I call you?”

  “I’m Lieutenant Wilkes, commander of this vessel.”

  A Lieutenant. Just as she’d thought. Vesta Corporation hadn’t gotten to him yet. However, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t have friends on the ship. The Dauntless was easily ten or twenty times larger than her small freighter an
d probably hosted a crew of more than one hundred. She wondered how many were on Vesta’s payroll and why a lowly Lieutenant was calling the shots.

  Saturn motioned that she was done with the officer and dismissed him, “You’ll find I have a long memory. You can go now, Lieutenant. I’m finished with you.”

  She turned her back to the image of the official, which prompted an infuriated grunt followed by a bleep and then silence. Liam shook his head and leaned back against the metal hull.

  “What?”

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Liam scolded her, half-mockingly.

  “He needed to be educated. I hate Vesta Corporation as much as the next person, but I know better than to mess with them or their assets. A green officer like him needs to learn quick or face the consequences.”

  Growing up on the Martian colony, Saturn learned the hard way that Vesta Corporation’s tendrils ran deep. Judges, doctors, security, restaurant owners, hell, even the damn florist all had reason to do Vesta’s bidding. She had always dreamed of exploring beyond the colony and seeking her fortune. Following in the footsteps of a long line of scientists had never interested her. Saturn’s grandmother used to tell her stories of her late husband Ronan, the hero of the colony. The images of him that cycled through the screens in every corridor and common area made him seem larger than life. She wanted that sort of legacy. A name that would live on long after she was gone.

  Liam shook his head and sighed. “We can’t do much from this cell. I’m going to get some rest.”

  Liam made to lie down on the metal bench but Saturn pushed him upright and sat down next to him. “Don’t be ridiculous, you could have a concussion. Keep talking.”

  “About what?”

  Saturn began playing with the strap of her brown leather gloves, loosening and then tightening them again out of habit.

  “I don’t know. Where are you from?”

  “New Hampshire originally, but I’ve been living in Toronto since I started doing jobs for Vesta.”