Starship

by Michael D. Resnick

  Cole shook his head. “No, there's just the three of us—the ship's senior officers.”

  “Then I shouldn't be here,” she said. “I'm not a senior officer.”

  “You stood up for me when I took over the ship,” said Cole. “You were charged with abetting a mutiny. As far as I'm concerned, that makes you a senior officer.”

  “But I'm not,” she said. “I'm Chief of Security.”

  “The Captain says you are,” said Cole. “We're no longer a part of the Navy. We're no longer in the Republic. We're an outlaw ship with no rules to guide us.” He paused. “Now, under those circumstances, whose word is law?”

  “Yours,” said Sharon.

  “Until someone decides to lop your head off,” added Forrice. “After all, we're pirates.”

  “I'll count on the Chief of Security to protect me,” said Cole.

  “While we're on the subject of senior officers,” said Sharon, “I assume Forrice has been promoted from Third to First Officer. But shouldn't you be appointing a Second and a Third Officer?”

  “We haven't needed them up to now,” answered Cole. “All we've been doing is running without any sign of pursuit. Pilot, whose name I will never learn to pronounce, was able to handle that without any help. When we embark on our campaign, I'll fill those positions.”

  “Then let's get on with whatever you called us here for,” said the Molarian.

  Cole nodded. “We have some decisions to make, and as I said, the most important concerns exactly what kind of pirates we intend to be.”

  “The kind who get rich,” said Forrice.

  Cole touched a spot on his desk and made instant contact with the bridge. A pretty young woman's holograph instantly appeared in front of him.

  “Ensign Marcos,” he said, “send me a view of the nearest habitable planet.”

  “Habitable by humans, sir?” asked Rachel Marcos.

  “By humans.”

  Suddenly the holograph of a green and gold world began revolving above Sharon's head.

  “Thank you, Ensign,” said Cole. She smiled and her image vanished. “There it is, Four Eyes. Ripe for the picking.”

  “All right, there it is,” said Forrice. “So what?”

  “Let's say there are six families living there. Originally there were thirty, but eight fell to native predation and sixteen left during a three-year drought. There are currently eleven adults, and fourteen kids ranging from three months to sixteen years. They're farming it. What do we do?”

  “What do you mean, what do we do?”

  “Let's say we need to resupply the mess hall. Let's further say that somehow, perhaps through Sharon's good offices, we know beyond any shadow of a doubt that they've got an aggregate of eighteen thousand credits and some very valuable gold and platinum family heirlooms. It would take ten minutes to send a party down in a shuttle and rob them of everything they have. Of course, even if they put up no resistance and we didn't kill them, we'd have to destroy any subspace radio we found so they couldn't report us—”

  “This is the Frontier,” interjected Sharon. “There's no one to report us to.”

  “I stand corrected,” said Cole. “All right, we'll steal the radios—they must be worth something on the market—and we'll certainly disable or destroy any ships they have so they can't pursue us.” He stared at Forrice. “Sound like the kind of thing you had in mind?”

  “You know it isn't,” growled the Molarian.

  “Let me give you another example. A Republic ship is racing through the Frontier. Lieutenant Mboya or Ensign Braxite charts its course and tells us that we can alter our own course and confront it in five hours. The ship has some weaponry, but we can outgun it. And I'll give you one more thing to consider: its cargo is worth ten million credits.”

  “That's it?” asked Forrice.

  “That's it,” answered Cole. “A ship from the hated Republic, poorly armed, and carrying an incredibly valuable cargo. What do we do?”

  “We attack, we disable it, and we plunder its cargo.”

  “Do we kill the crew?”

  “Not if they surrender,” said Forrice. “We set them down on the nearest oxygen world.”

  “But they can identify us.”

  An alien smile crossed the Molarian's face. “How much more can the Republic hate you?”

  “Point taken,” said Cole. “So we disable the ship and take its cargo.”

  “Right.”

  “Want to know what the cargo is?” asked Cole.

  Forrice shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Very rare, very unstable vaccine, valued at ten million credits. It's being shipped to a colony world where a new plague has broken out. If it doesn't get there before it spoils in three Standard days, a couple of million colonists will die. And so it won't seem like a loaded example, the colonists aren't Men or Molarians—they're Polonoi. And every last one of them is as stubborn and wrongheaded as the Polonoi captain I deposed a few weeks ago.”

  “You can't let two million innocent beings die,” said Forrice. “Even Polonoi.”

  “I'm sure our three Polonoi crew members would agree,” said Cole. “But we don't have to let them die. Once we disable the ship, strand the crew, and appropriate the vaccine, we contact the Republic and offer to deliver the vaccine before it goes bad—for thirty million credits. Oh, hell, why think small? For two hundred million. That's only a hundred credits a colonist, and now if they die we can say it's the Republic's fault. Let's further hypothesize that I was killed while we were taking the Republic ship, and now you're in command. What's your decision?”

  “You know what it is,” said Forrice.

  “If I didn't, you wouldn't be on board,” said Cole. “But now you see why we need to know what kind of pirates we plan to be. It sounds like a contradiction in terms, but we need to create something akin to a Pirates' Code of Ethics, even if it applies to just the Teddy R.”

  “You know,” said Forrice, “you're exactly the kind of hero I hate.” He rumbled deep in his chest. “Whatever happened to heroes who didn't think everything through, but just walked in with weapons blazing?”

  “They're buried in graveyards all across the galaxy,” said Cole.

  “I've got a question,” said Sharon.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I asked it before: What am I doing here? You obviously know what kind of code you want to operate under.”

  “I gave Four Eyes some loaded examples,” answered Cole. “But saying that we won't kill a few innocent families for peanuts, or that we won't hold two million lives hostage, is not the same as saying what we will do, and that's what we have to discuss. Who and what is fair game, and who and what isn't? Under what circumstances will we use deadly force and under what circumstances won't we? Will we stay on the Inner Frontier, or will we make forays into the Republic? The Republic's at war with the Teroni Federation. Until a few weeks ago, so were we. If we chance upon a Teroni ship, do we give it safe passage or engage it?”

  Forrice sighed deeply. “You know, piracy was a lot simpler when it only had me thinking about it.”

  “Well,” said Sharon, “we're here because of the Republic. Not its citizenry, and certainly not the Teroni Federation. So I think that unless we have cause to attack someone else, we should limit our activities to those things and ships belonging to the Republic.”

  “That's a start,” said Cole.

  “What about your hypothetical medical ship?”

  “Of course we're not going to attack a medical ship,” responded Cole. “But we still need to decide what is fair game. Any suggestions?”

  “Anything of sufficient value to warrant our risk,” replied Sharon. “And the plundering of which will not cause undue harm or suffering to innocent people, whether they're Republic citizens or not.”

  “Go back to my first example,” said Cole. “Doesn't the loss of an heirloom cause suffering? And if the person we take it from isn't a member of the Republic's military or government, wouldn't y
ou call that suffering undue?”

  “If you put enough restrictions on it, you're going to limit yourself to robbing only heavily insured banks on Deluros VIII,” said Sharon. “We need some flexibility. How can we know at this moment what the effect of attacking a ship nineteen days from now will be? What kind of ship is it? Who's on it? What's it carrying?”

  “I'll give you something else to think about,” said Forrice, who had been silent for a few moments. “Let's say the ship is a military ship. So were we, until the mutiny. Let's say that they defend themselves against what they've been told is an outlaw ship. We would have.” He paused. “Do we really want to kill a crew that is doing precisely what we spent our whole careers doing—following orders and defending their ship?”

  “It's something to think about,” agreed Cole pleasantly, as if to say: It took you long enough to think of that.

  “It's something to avoid,” said Sharon.

  “Actually,” said Forrice, “the truth of the matter is that the Teddy R should have been decommissioned half a century ago. The odds are that we'll be outgunned by any Republic or Teroni ship we come across.”

  “I don't know about that,” said Cole. “This is the Frontier. The only way a souped-up warship is going to come here is if it's in hot pursuit. I think the Teddy R is precisely the kind of military vessel we're likely to come across here.”

  “Which means we're likely to kill some young officers and crewmen who are guilty of nothing more than protecting their ship,” said Sharon.

  “I agree,” said Cole. “Where does that leave us?”

  “Perhaps—” began Forrice.

  “Oh, shut up!” said Sharon wearily. She turned to Cole. “Why don't you simply tell us, since you obviously had your mind made up before calling this little meeting.”

  “It never hurts to have the people who work with you draw the same conclusion,” he replied without denying her charge.

  “Well?” she said.

  “I should think it's obvious,” said Cole. “We don't want to kill or even rob innocent civilians. We don't want to kill military personnel who are just carrying out orders and defending themselves. We don't want to get into a pitched battle with any Republic or Teroni ship that might outgun us. We don't even want to get into a battle with one we can beat. After all, there's no economic reward in destroying a military vessel; all it does is cost us casualties and ammunition.”

  “What's left?” asked Forrice.

  Cole smiled without answering.

  “Oh my God!” said Sharon a moment later. “It never occurred to me!”

  “It still hasn't occurred to me,” complained Forrice.

  “Pirates!” exclaimed Sharon. “We're going to plunder pirates!”

  Suddenly the cabin was filled with thunderous hoots of alien laughter. “I like it!”

  “We don't want to rob or kill innocent victims,” said Cole. “If they're pirates, they're not innocent. We don't want to get into a pitched battle with warships from either side. If they're pirates, they're not in a warship. We want the reward to be commensurate with the risks. If they're pirates, it figures to be.” He paused. “Another consideration is that we've been running shorthanded since we left the Republic. Who better to recruit than pirates who know how our rivals operate and where they're likely to be?”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Forrice. “When do we start?”

  Suddenly Rachel Marcos's image appeared above Cole's computer. “Excuse me, sir,” she said. “But I thought you should know that we've spotted a ship.”

  “Republic?” asked Cole promptly.

  “No, sir,” replied Rachel. “A class-QQ ship of Taborian origin, unarmed. Chlorine atmosphere, which is what Taborians breathe. I'd say it's a colony ship, sir.”

  “Thank you, Ensign. Keep tracking it, but don't hail it or alter course. If they send any radio messages, let me know.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, flashing him a sharp salute and a smile.

  Her image vanished.

  “She still hyperventilates at the very sight of you,” noted Sharon dryly.

  “You'd prefer she hyperventilated for Four Eyes?” asked Cole with a smile.

  “For someone who's not old enough to be her father, anyway.”

  “I hate to interrupt,” said Forrice, “but let's get back to this ship she spotted.”

  “There's something like four hundred and fifty billion sentient beings in the galaxy,” responded Cole. “That we know of. We couldn't expect not to come across some of them out here sooner or later.”

  “You're not worried that they'll report our presence?” persisted the Molarian.

  “To whom?” he replied. “We're in a vast No Man's Land. Let's take it at face value and assume they're looking for a chlorine planet to colonize. And even if we're wrong, by the time the Republic could get here we'll be a few thousand light-years away.”

  “I thought we were all through running.”

  “We are,” said Cole. “But we're not going to just stay in this empty sector. Tomorrow we start searching.”

  “Searching?” repeated the Molarian. “For pirate ships?”

  Cole shook his head. “For all the things we need,” he answered. “We've been traveling without a doctor since we escaped. We need at least one, probably two—one who specializes in humans, one who can work with the non-human species we're carrying. We need a safe haven, some port that we can use as our headquarters.”

  “Why not just use the ship?” asked Forrice.

  “Because it can be pretty damned hard for a fence with a warehouse to find us when we're hiding between engagements. And since he'll almost certainly be operating inside the Republic, we don't want to get anywhere near his world, let alone touch down on it.”

  “It'd be nice if we could trade the first shipload of plunder for some better weaponry,” suggested Sharon.

  “I wouldn't hold my breath,” said Cole. “Who trades in the kind of pulse and laser cannons we're looking for?”

  “You pass the word and flash enough money, and somebody will,” said Forrice with certainty.

  “Anything's possible,” admitted Cole. “But if I were you, I wouldn't hold my breath until it happens.”

  “Well, that's that,” said Sharon. “May we assume that this Pirates' Code of Ethics was a bunch of bullshit?”

  “Not at all,” said Cole. “Every member of the crew put his life and career on the line for me. They deserve to know what our policy is, since they're going to have to abide by it.”

  And the next morning there was a message posted on every private and public computer aboard the Theodore Roosevelt:

  CODE OF ETHICS

  1. The Theodore Roosevelt will not attack any innocent individual of any race.

  2. The Theodore Roosevelt will not attack any innocent ships, even military ships, that are going about their business.

  3. The Theodore Roosevelt will not plunder any innocent individual's or group's property.

  4. Pirates are not innocent.

  Cole stood at the entrance to the Gunnery Section of the Teddy R. The sole crew member stationed there amidst the laser and pulsar cannons was a large, heavily muscled man who snapped to attention and saluted.

  “Good morning, sir,” said Eric Pampas.

  “Good morning, Bull,” said Cole. “And I keep telling you that you don't have to salute or call me sir.”

  “It just seems natural, sir,” said Pampas. “By the way, sir, I saw the ethics code you posted.”

  “And?”

  “I never liked the thought of holding up civilians or colonists at gunpoint. This sounds a lot more like what we've been trained for—our ship against other pirate ships.”

  “Is that pretty much the general attitude among the crew?” asked Cole.

  “Well, among the gunnery staff anyway, sir,” answered Pampas. “I haven't spoken to anyone else today.”

  “Which brings up a question,” said Cole. “Now that you and Four Eyes have had a
chance to train them, how many crew members would you say are qualified to work in this section?”

  “Eight, maybe nine.”

  “That's a lot better than it was when I was transferred to the Teddy R,” said Cole. “Starting tomorrow, you're relieved of duty.”

  “Sir?” said Pampas, frowning.

  “You can choose your own successor as chief of the Gunnery Section,” continued Cole. “You know each of their capabilities better than I do. We have enough Men heading other sections, so try to pick a non-human.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” said Pampas, “nobody knows these weapons better than I do.”

  “I don't doubt it.”

  “Have I done something to offend you, sir? Or broken some regulation?”

  “We're a pirate ship,” said Cole. “We no longer have any regulations. Until I create some new ones, anyway.”

  “Then why—?”

  “It's not a demotion, Bull. I have a more important job for you.”

  “More important than manning the weapons?” asked Pampas.

  “Think about it, Bull,” said Cole. “We want to plunder pirate ships, right?”

  “Right.”

  “If you blow one up with one of our cannons, what's left to plunder?” asked Cole. “From now on these weapons are strictly for self-defense, not attack, and the gunnery crew's job is simply to make sure they're functioning. Christine or someone else on the bridge will program their targets into them.”

  “I hadn't thought of that, sir,” admitted Pampas. “Of course we can't annihilate the ships we plan to rob.”

  “I'm glad we're in agreement on that,” said Cole dryly.

  “But all I've done since I enlisted seven years ago is work on weaponry,” said Pampas. “It's what I know.”

  “You know a little more than that, Bull. You put four crew members into the infirmary for using drugs, remember?”

  “You told me to stop them,” said Pampas defensively.

  “I'm not castigating you, I'm reminding you,” said Cole. “One of them was a warrior-caste Polonoi. You damned near killed him.”

  “He was endangering the ship. We couldn't allow him around the weapons in that condition.”