Andromeda's Pirate

by Debra Jess

  For the first time, Kelra could understand why Hart’s victims described him as fearsome. The fact that he was the least murderous pirate in the Calypso arm didn’t impact the pure aggressiveness radiating from him. From here on out, she had to be on guard around him.

  If Hart wanted to kill her, she’d have to find a way to stall him until she got what she wanted.

  Beyond that, it didn’t matter.

  Chapter Four

  Threats, threats, threats. Six hours of sleep, and she still mulled over the conversation between herself and the Queen's captain. If Hart thought he could intimidate her with unnamed punishments for failure, he had another think coming. By the Stars, she issued enough of those same threats with far more creativity to her various crews over the years. She didn't like to lead by instilling fear, but she also knew that was what Manitac preferred in their navy. The cold, the harsh, and the unforgiving rose through the ranks the fastest. They got the rewards, and the pay they received more than made up for the loneliness of command. Playing along while she learned which pressure points she could push to either motivate or destroy the confidence of anyone who crossed her path gave her a strong advantage over other officers.

  Hart was right—she only pretended to lead so she could get what she wanted. Since what she wanted had nothing to do with power, or money, or fame—no one noticed.

  Except Hart.

  Somehow, he knew even before she turned traitor. Had he noticed on his own? Or had his informant given him enough clues for him to make the connection?

  If Hart wasn't the only one who knew of her deception, then she had a bigger problem than finding the Majesty of the Stars. She gambled that Manitac would chase her once Hart pulled her off Ruintalos, but she'd long ago memorized the Manitac playbook. Very few officers had the creativity or incentive to think outside their mission parameters, but if there was someone like her in the ranks, who knew how to play outside the regulations and not get caught, then there was a chance this person would find her and Hart before they could locate Majesty of the Stars.

  Yanking her thick dark hair into a bun with a little too much force tangled one of her newly grown hair strands into the tie she’d found in one of the dresser drawers. After months of not feeling her hair tickle the back of her shoulders, she relished the sensation, now wishing she could let it hang freely. But Hart's crew needed to see two things when she walked into the wardroom: strength and confidence, which were easier with her hair pulled away from her face.

  Maintaining dignity was important when she was the captain of her own ship. For these pirates, she planned to show them that she appreciated their efforts to accommodate her, but she was not some wilting bloom.

  Her dignity, however, had not included wearing oversize clothes. Hart's calculations hadn't included a near-starvation diet for six months. Even with a self-adjusting belt, her rugged trousers were hard pressed to stay above her bony hips. If she slipped a comm into either pocket, the extra weight would drop her pants to the floor. The matching black shirt did nothing to improve her figure. At least the boots fit, more or less.

  The whole outfit screamed “hard work ahead,” which was fine with her.

  Stepping out of the compressor and into a wardroom filled with pirates was like figuring out where to sit in the cafeteria on the first day of school, except there was only one open seat and it was smack in the middle of the nastiest group of mean girls ever. At least not all the pirates were girls. She would have Hart on one side of her and Cuff on the other of the wooden round table, which took up half the room itself. Leisure chairs, a holo-vid player, and a pocket-strike table with the balls already cued on the second level filled out the rest. Cuff pushed her seat so it slid back on its tracks. The rest of the group—four she counted—kept their eyes on their food. They all wore variations of the trousers and shirts, most in military-style fatigues.

  There didn't appear to be a call button next to her place setting to alert the kitchen she needed food. She twisted around, almost bumping her elbow into a tray carried by a puppet, who skillfully evaded the accident and placed the plate and glass on the table in front of her before removing the cover. She found it odd how the puppet wore civilian clothes like the rest of the crew instead of the bright-orange jumpsuits Manitac provided for them. Still, there was no mistaking the blank look in the woman's eyes for anything other than a ’pet.

  Steam rose as the scent of spiced meat tickled her nose. Meal-in-a-mug couldn't match solid food.

  Before she could thank the puppet, which she had always made a point of doing even though it didn't mean anything to them, her server disappeared into the kitchen.

  "I said you needed eight hours of sleep." Cuff nudged her attention back to the table.

  "Let the Guardians sleep," she replied. "I'm hungry. I even brought a nutri-pack with me so I wouldn't forget."

  "Even so." He waited until she took a sip of what turned out to be plain water. She had hoped for ale, but Cuff must have ordered water, knowing she wasn't ready for alcohol yet.

  "Let me introduce the rest of us." Cuff nodded toward a plain-faced pirate with swept-back beige hair sitting to Hart's right. "Rusante."

  The woman paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth long enough to say "Rusa," but didn't elaborate or acknowledge Kelra otherwise.

  "The kid next to her is Ezick."

  Glaring from under shaggy brown hair, Ezick stuffed a mouthful of gravy-covered meat into his mouth. If his eyes could have killed her on the spot, she'd be nothing but a pile of ash.

  "Next to Ezick is Vasmirin."

  The tough-looking woman with short-clipped black hair had rippling muscles along her tan sleeveless arm. Like Ezick, she didn't look up from her plate, but muttered "Mirin."

  "And this fella to my left is Johza."

  At least this one had the guts to actually look at her, but that might have just been his experience speaking. Thick white hair framed a craggy face, short nose, and sharp blue eyes, he clearly had the confidence to handle strangers dropped into his midst.

  With a brief salute with her fork as an acknowledgment, Kelra followed the rest of the table and started eating. The second the food hit her tongue, all thoughts of her hostile tablemates, her mission, and the past six months melted away.

  Where in the Stars had Hart found the ingredients for the chef to make stuffed dorsala with karnbread mixed with flaval and lanka spices? She hadn't had the chance to indulge in a dish so decadent due to the budget restrictions on Manitac ships. Crew ate what Manitac was willing to pay for, which was just enough to keep them fed, if not enthralled, with their dining options. If a captain or other officer wanted better, they had to pay for it themselves.

  Kelra stopped chewing. This was a complicated dish to make. She turned to look at Hart. The pirate stared back, not quite gloating, but with the air of a man pleased with himself.

  The sneaky bastard knew she wouldn't sleep for long and that this was her favorite dish. Who had he bribed to get this information? She'd never ordered it while off world, couldn't order it, in fact, unless she was visiting the Unity Homeport. All others attempting to prepare a stuffed dorsala had to either spend a fortune importing the meat or substituting it with other spices, which never could create the unique taste of dorsala.

  Whoever Hart's informant was, they couldn't have been just another disgruntled member of the Silt or a casual lover.

  The scent of spices drew her away from her thoughts and back to the food. He'd spent Stars knew how much, hoping to bribe her into cooperating with him. Why? It wasn't necessary, unless this was a by-product of his plan to placate her after the kidnapping. He'd planned this before he knew she was the architect of her own fate.

  The laugh escaped before she could stop it. Now everyone around the table watched her, which was fine. Guardians knew how much Hart had told them about his plans.

  "Care to explain?" Cuff lowered his mug of ale, careful to ask in a respectful way. Hart must have designated him the mou
thpiece for the group. There was no other reason for any crew member of the Queen of Hearts to trust her at their table, never mind on board their ship.

  Kelra wiped her lips with a ’fresher, looking at Hart, not Cuff. "I'm just marveling at the amount of money a pirate will spend in hopes of acquiring more."

  "His own money."

  Diagonal from her, Ezick slammed down his own mug. "If you think we spent our own fortunes for this, then you're as stupid as I figured you were."

  A childish insult, and it might have stung if she were twelve, but it just painted a rather obvious picture of this particular pirate. How had someone with so much attitude wind up at the captain's table?

  "I wasn't thinking anything of sort." Kelra continued to eat while watching Ezick. He tried to match Hart's glare with one of his own, but he couldn't hold it for long. Kelra could play the stare-down game all day if he really wanted to waste his time, but the pirate next to him jostled his arm with a deliberate poke. The food stuck to the end of the kid's fork flopped onto his lap.

  "Son-of-a-beast…" Ezick swiped a ’fresher off the table and tried to wipe the stains from his shirt.

  "Didn't I teach you not to stare?" Rusa handed the kid a pitcher of water so he could wet down the ’fresher.

  "She's Manitac."

  "Don't make any difference at this table. She's a guest of our captain. Best you remember that."

  The kid glanced at Hart, who ignored the desperate cleanup and continued to eat his dinner as if nothing was happening.

  It didn't take a scanner to figure out the extent of her disruption of a crew, at least insofar as Ezick was concerned. During her transition to the Silt, the same awkward situation occurred. The crew had clearly respected their previous captain and hadn't appreciated Kelra's assignment. It took a while, and few harsh reminders of who was in charge, but eventually the crew found their rhythm again with her sitting in the captain's chair.

  Despite the uncomfortable silence, everyone else kept eating, so Kelra followed their example. Even Cuff kept his peace until Ezick finished cleaning up and tossed his 'fresher onto the table, his focus still on Hart, who continued to ignore him.

  "You're really going to sit there and act like she's never tried to kill us?"

  Hart paused. "That's exactly what I intend to do."

  Disbelief crossed the kid's face, making him look even younger. Why would Hart have someone so young on his crew, never mind letting him eat at the captain's table?

  "And the rest of you?" The kid looked around. "You're all okay with this, letting a Manitac officer sit here, eat our food, sleep in one of our cabins, using our supplies, acting like she belongs here?"

  "Ex-Manitac officer," Cuff said, his voice as soft but just as hard as Hart's.

  "Yeah, right." The kid shoved his tray off the magnetic strip that kept it secured to the table. "How do you know she isn't a spy? I say we're being set up."

  The way the kid tried to rally the crew to his point of view was almost amusing. He had passion, that was evident, but he lacked the persuasive skill needed to bring everyone around to his side. He also wasn't wrong.

  "No one cares about what you think," Mirin muttered. "So shut your mouth before I shut it for you."

  "You can't talk…"

  Before the kid could get on his feet, Rusa yanked him back down. The kid glared at his protector but took the not-so-subtle hint.

  "Fine. You all want to pretend she's not a spy? You want to sit here like she's one of us? Go ahead." The kid grabbed his tray, pulled it closer, and jammed his fork into the meat. "Just don't blame me when Manitac turns you into puppets."

  "They will." Kelra knew she had to get into the game before this problem child went too far. He must mean something to Hart for Hart to let him go on like this.

  "They will what?" the kid sneered.

  "They will absolutely blame you." She circled her fork so it pointed at all the other crew at the table who had stopped eating by now. "They'll have plenty of time to do it because when Manitac captures this crew, the magistrate isn't going to stop with incarceration on a prison planet. When they decide to turn you into puppets, they'll start with you."

  "Oh, yeah? And why me?"

  "To shut you up. You whine like a newborn calf and think a little too much of your own opinion. So far, you haven't convinced anyone on this crew that I am a spy, certainly not your captain, or he wouldn't have undertaken this operation in the first place."

  "Captain Hart doesn't know you like I do. He thinks you'll lead us to the Majesty of the Stars. I know you're leading us into a trap."

  "Let's say I do. It sounds to me like you're ready to turn traitor yourself."

  "What? No! I'm not you! I wouldn't—"

  "‘Just don't blame me when Manitac turns all of you into puppets.’ Your words. Talking from the outside, as if you're the one Manitac will spare. Only traitors with useful intel are given a pass—maybe—and only so long as they continue to prove useful."

  The kid's jaw dropped at having his own words turn against him. He realized his mistake at giving her too much information to work with and closed his mouth, but only for a minute.

  "I'm just saying, we should take her into the black room and make her tell us what she knows instead of wasting our resources."

  "Black room? Well, by the Stars, doesn't that sound ominous."

  "You just wait until we get you—"

  "We will be doing nothing of the sort." The sharp retort from Hart brought the kid up short. "The black room is only for extreme measures. Shade will share what she knows voluntarily in her own good time."

  "Or she'll lie about what she knows."

  Hart placed his fork on his plate, his voice deepening to dangerous levels. "Since you think so little of my ability to know when a woman is lying, you might want to do some lying yourself—on your back under the runabout. That's where you'll start disinfecting the ship the old-fashioned way: with soap and water."

  For a moment, she thought the kid would complain, but the careful tone of the order, mixed with Hart’s stone-face, showed just how much control Hart had over his crew. The kid knew it, too, because he swallowed whatever bilge he was about to utter before throwing the 'fresher on the table. Shooting a look of pure hatred in her direction, he stomped toward the compressor and disappeared through the window.

  The silence killed her appetite, but Kelra knew better than to let food go to waste. Leaving the table was an option, but she couldn't let the uneasy feelings between her and everyone else fester.

  "What did I do?" It had to be something personal. Even a kid would know better than to challenge their own captain.

  "Doesn't matter," Hart said, but he turned his dark attention toward her. "Just don't turn me into a liar, Shade. Betray this crew, and I'll give you a personal tour of the black room."

  The hard look on his face said it did matter. Threatening her with the black room before he had the information he needed didn’t bode well for her gaining the trust of his crew, and she needed their trust for her plan to proceed. By the Stars and their Guardians, she had to find a way to turn this around and show Hart he could trust her, but not with the location of the Majesty of the Stars. It was too soon.

  Treading lightly was no longer an option. From here on out, she had to calculate every word she said, every move she made. Anything to keep Hart believing in her even if his crew didn’t, or she was as good as dead.

  Chapter Five

  No one said two words after the scene at dinner. Kelra ate but didn't enjoy the meal any further. Neither Hart, nor Cuff, nor any of the others spoke, so she decided to follow their lead and keep quiet. If any of them resented her poking at the kid, they left it alone.

  The kid would be a problem that could derail her plans if not handled immediately.

  Back into her quarters, she sank onto the sofa, tired even from the small activity of dinner. Though Hart hadn't kept his own name a secret, no amount of investigation could reveal the identities of t
hose who served under him. It mattered who these people were because they were instrumental in helping her find the Majesty of the Stars.

  "Queen of Hearts. Reveal the crew roster."

  "Personnel list to commence."

  Funny how Hart still used such a mundane word such as personnel for his band of pirates.

  "Naryea Draven of Stratos. Vashtina Leggman of Stratos…"

  Images of each of the crew floated across the quarters while Kelra loosened the tie around her bun. The tension of her headache eased.

  "Queen of Hearts. These are not the senior crew members. List those who dined with me this past hour."

  Slight pause. "Naryea Draven of Stratos. Vashtina Leggman of Stratos…"

  "Queen of Hearts. Pause."

  The faces didn't match anyone at the captain's table. The Queen of Hearts didn't even list Hart. Okay, so Hart didn't keep a roster of his senior crew. Prudent for a pirate familiar with Manitac tactics.

  "Queen of Hearts, continue." Kelra took a closer look at the images. Six images later, she recognized one of them.

  Puppets. This one had served her dinner. In the image, she looked younger, had long blond hair with blue eyes and a hint of a smile. Was this a school image, perhaps, or a family photo?

  Who she used to be didn't matter. What mattered was that Hart kept a roster of puppets who served on the Queen of Hearts, but not of the normal crew. Why? If not listing the crew was a security matter, why would he bother with puppets? Manitac wouldn't care who they were and would assign them to serve on a Manitac ship if captured.

  Punishing the damned was a waste of time, even by Manitac standards.

  "Queen of Hearts, does every single member of this crew originate from Stratos?"

  Another pause. "Yes."