Winds of Marque

by Bennett R. Coles

  The Theropod leaped to his feet with lightning swiftness. Liam’s saber flashed up in a guard and he interposed himself between the attacker and his crew. But the pirate bounded away from them, landing at a console where his nimble fingers began frantically tapping commands. Liam instinctively drew a pistol and fired, only to hear the awful click of an empty weapon. He flung the pistol at the brute, forcing the pirate to raise his hands as a shield, as Liam raced forward, saber raised.

  The pirate ignored him for the seconds it took him to cross the bridge, eyes still focused on the console. Then, with a flush of blood to the horned ridges above his eyes, the Theropod swung with his mighty tailsword. Liam parried the blow, but the force made him stagger backward. He readied for the backswing, but the brute merely raised the sword in a guard and kept working the console. With a bellow Liam knocked the blade clear, then bashed down against the pirate’s head with his armored fist. The blow was barely a glance, but the brute finally abandoned his efforts.

  The tailsword slashed down, crushing the plate on Liam’s shoulder, numbing his sword arm. He swung his left fist again, desperately trying to keep a grip on his weapon. But then the tail suddenly dropped to the deck, and the brute’s legs kicked upward, talon claws slashing at Liam’s legs.

  He punched again, swinging wildly, and his fist finally connected with the brute’s skull. The pirate sagged against the console. He tried to raise his tailsword, but was too slow as Liam stabbed down with the saber. The pirate’s last hiss faded into a gargle as he slumped off the console to collapse on the deck.

  Liam staggered up and stepped on the tail to ensure it was pinned. As his gaze raked the console, he watched the last of the ship’s memory core vanish, the data completely erased.

  He looked up at the bridge. Hedge was barely conscious, leaning against the console, and Song had his pistol out, covering both remaining pirates.

  He looked again at the console, then down at the dead brute by his feet. Only the most senior crewmembers on any ship had the codes to wipe a memory core: Liam guessed that he’d identified the pirate captain.

  “Damnation,” he muttered.

  Chapter 11

  Liam winced as he slipped out of his shirt, noting the red spots where blood had leaked through his bandages. The pain in his shoulder was still sharp, standing out against the dull aches nearly everywhere else in his body.

  Templegrey pulled the garment free of his arm and dropped it in his lap. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun, several medical instruments slung around her neck. Her white coat was spattered with stains from the last few days and she moved with a steady efficiency.

  “I’ve told you to rest more,” she scolded him with the hint of a smile. “But I see you’ve been ignoring me.”

  Her eyes lacked some of their usual gleam, and fatigue slowed her movements. In the days since the attack on the pirates, the doctor had been busier than most. Liam sat on a bed in sickbay, and five of the other beds were occupied by sailors who’d fared less well than he had. Flatrock lay across from him, propped on his uninjured side. Hedge was in the next bunk, talking quietly to him. Three of Sky’s team were asleep or unconscious, having taken the brunt of the battle as her team fought through the pirate gun crews and their propulsors. For all his aches and a troublesome shoulder, Liam had gotten off lightly.

  “I’ll get more rest,” he said, “now that we’ve finished with the pirate ship.”

  “Any luck retrieving the lost data?” she asked as she began unwrapping his shoulder bandage.

  “No, unfortunately. But the coxn and assaulter have been questioning the prisoners.”

  “Wretched bunch,” she said, shaking her head. “I inspected them for any acute wounds, but there’s nothing I can do for the consequences of their hard living. None of them will see old age.”

  “After what they’ve done, none of them deserve to.”

  “Agreed, sir. Let’s just hope we can get what we need from them before they expire.”

  The prisoners were being fed the bare minimum of rations, and the lights were always kept on in their cells to encourage sleep deprivation. It was all in support of the interrogation efforts. Many of the pirates were already weakened from the battle, and with no further medical help authorized, it was doubtful if all of them would survive to see trial. Liam wasn’t troubled at the thought.

  The door to the passageway opened and Highcastle peered in, entering when Templegrey gave him a nod.

  “Anything I might do to help, Doctor?” he said rather loudly.

  “Everything is quiet, Mr. Highcastle,” she responded as she dropped Liam’s bloody bandages into a basket at her feet. “But thank you for asking.”

  “Been to the wars, Lord Blackwood?” he said with a smile.

  “Barely a scratch,” Liam replied.

  “You should join us next time, sir,” Flatrock interjected with a toothy smile.

  “I might just, Rocky,” the cadet countered good-naturedly, sitting on the edge of Hedge’s bed. “But you keep living and not opening a spot for me.”

  Flatrock laughed. Highcastle took Hedge’s hand in his own and glanced down at her. “All right there, Hedgie?”

  “Yes, sir,” she responded weakly. “Quite all right, thank you.”

  Liam was surprised at his gentle tone and his clear desire to keep morale up in the sickbay. It was not what he would have expected from a lordling.

  “Are we resuming regular watches?” Templegrey asked, drawing his attention back.

  “Yes, with the dog watch. I’ve slated you for the midwatch, unfortunately,” he said somewhat apologetically. “It’s your turn.”

  She gave an elegant shrug before starting to rewrap his shoulder. “At least young James will get some rest.” She cast Highcastle a mock-withering look. “He is rather beastly right now.”

  Highcastle wrinkled his nose at her reprovingly. “Well, why not? Those blaggards ejected our prize money out the airlock. These fine sailors deserve their reward.”

  He patted Hedge’s leg and nodded to Flatrock.

  “It is frustrating, sir.” Flatrock sighed.

  “If only I’d been unleashed on those pirates for the interrogation,” Highcastle added. “Then you’d have seen beastly.”

  “You’re not an interrogator?” Flatrock asked.

  “No.” Highcastle sighed. “Apparently Sublieutenant Brown needs me far more on the bridge.”

  Liam knew the truth to be rather different. Chief Petty Officer Butcher had quite rightly refused Highcastle’s demand to question the prisoners, which had caused the lordling no small amount of outrage. The coxn, in turn, had taken rather poorly to a cadet trying to impose his will. It was always a difficult dance between senior sailors and junior officers, and when high nobility was mixed in, things could get volatile. He didn’t want to add the mob opinion of the crew to this issue.

  “Speaking of which, aren’t you due on the bridge rather soon?” Liam asked with a certain firmness.

  “Yes, sir. I just wanted to check in on our brave casualties.” He rose from Hedge’s bed. “Fear not, my friends, I’ll be keeping you safe for the next twelve hours.”

  “Appreciate you coming by, sir,” Flatrock said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Hedge whispered.

  Highcastle departed. Hedge drifted off to sleep in moments, and Flatrock closed his eyes as well.

  “You know,” Templegrey said quietly to Liam as she pressed down fresh dressings and started to overlay them with a bandage, “we could help the fatigue problem by switching to a one-in-four watch rotation. We’re in deep space, and even just a few days of a more relaxed schedule would help everyone catch up on their rest.”

  “But who would be the fourth officer of the watch?” he replied, barely above a whisper. “The captain’s gesture that first night was a one-off, and I’m not really interested, Ava.”

  “James could stand his own watch,” she said, pausing her work on the bandage to meet his gaze. “He’s lear
ned basic navigation and watch routine, and he could be given explicit instructions on when to call for assistance.”

  He stared back at her. “Are you mad?”

  She laughed. “No, sir. But I do see the impact of fatigue on the entire crew. You know that deep-space watches are uneventful, and that James could handle it, especially with a senior sailor assigned to support him.”

  Her arguments actually had some merit, he admitted to himself.

  “I think being given his own watch,” she said as she resumed dressing his shoulder, finishing quickly, “would go a long way to settling James’s sense of self-worth. His confidence has been taking a beating these past few weeks, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. If the captain were to extend some confidence to him, I think he would rise to the challenge.”

  Liam couldn’t disagree with her position—being challenged was how any sailor grew. His instincts had been correct in throwing Amelia Virtue into a higher rank and position: she’d absolutely thrived. What was to say Highcastle couldn’t do the same? Was it his connection to Silverhawk that had clouded Liam’s judgment?

  “You make a compelling case, Ava. I’ll speak to Commander Riverton about giving Highcastle his own watch for this next deep-space transit.”

  She offered him a warm smile. “Thank you, sir. The entire crew will benefit.”

  Liam worked his shoulder through a range of motion. He was able to move it without wincing, but he knew not to push it. For the next few hours he needed to appear as implacable as a rock.

  He descended from sickbay another two decks, passing a few crewmembers on the way. Each greeted him with a respectful knuckle to the eyebrow and he could clearly see the brighter expressions and energy in their movements. The battle against the pirates had gone well, and combat always inspired a deeper cohesion of the crew. All the frustrations of the past had been swept away in this new sense of forward momentum.

  Down on Four Deck, he made his way to where a small gathering of sailors clustered at the end of a side passageway. Four of them were armed—two standing sentry and the other two hovering near Virtue, who was shifting restlessly, fiddling with the bag on her shoulder.

  “Good afternoon, everyone,” he greeted. “Are we ready to continue?”

  “Yes, sir,” Virtue replied immediately.

  At his order, one of the sentries unlocked the door and quickly scanned the space beyond before holding it open. Liam stepped through, followed by Virtue and two guards.

  The brig was a converted cargo container, specially kitted out prior to their departure from Passagia for precisely the purpose of holding prisoners. Reinforced, beige bulkheads had been welded to allow for a wide central passageway, and on either side there were five heavy doors leading to cells. A pair of ladders led up to a narrow catwalk where a second set of cells awaited future guests. The single lantern was cold and harsh.

  This sort of interrogation was hardly Liam’s favorite activity, but it was essential if they were going to make headway in their overall mission. As he stepped toward the first cell, he forced himself to remember the carnage aboard Lightning Louise, and that it had been these scumbags who had done that.

  Liam glanced through the tiny window. The inhabitant sat crouched on his haunches, head dipped. But as the lock shifted with a heavy creak, the Theropod’s head snapped up, eye ridges flaring weakly. He was dressed in coarse prisoner garb that had been made for a Human body. The leggings only reached halfway down his calves and the sleeves draped ridiculously over his short arms. The seat of the pants had been slit to allow his tail to extend outward. It was no doubt awkward for the Theropod to move and he remained motionless in his crouch, weight leaning back against the tail.

  Liam stepped inside, nodding to Virtue, who came forward and handed over a translator. The brute extended his neck to slip his head through the looped string, letting the translator fall against his chest. Reptilian eyes flicked between the two Humans.

  Virtue took another step closer, crouching down to his eye level.

  “We recovered a few personal items from your ship before we destroyed it,” she said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a book. Its cover was a hard paper encased in resin, scratched with the runes of the brute language. “I believe this is yours.”

  “It’s no use to us,” Liam snapped, maintaining a cold expression.

  The Theropod’s third eyelids flicked sideways, and he shuffled to free a hand from the folds of his sleeve. He reached for the book, but Virtue held it back.

  “I’m sure having something to read will help you pass the time,” she said, “but I’m hoping you can give us something in return.”

  The hiss from deep in the brute’s throat needed little translation, but the device dutifully produced intelligible words. “Die in the Abyss.”

  Metaphors didn’t always translate accurately, and Liam remembered to speak clearly to ensure the translator caught his words.

  “I told you this was a waste of time,” he said to Virtue. “Just burn it with the rest of the rubbish.”

  Virtue held up a hand, sighing deeply. She looked at the brute again. “It was hard enough for me to convince them to offer this mercy. It would be a shame to destroy this, but you’re not helping me. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

  The ridged eyes locked on to the book, then snapped between Liam and Virtue.

  “I want more than just a book,” came the words just after the growl.

  “This is all I have,” she said. “For now. We’re planning to burn the rest of the personal effects today, but . . . you never know what I might find.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How many pirate ships are there in your band?”

  “Just one. And you took us out.”

  Liam stepped forward menacingly, raising his hand and threatening to strike. “Don’t lie to us, brute,” he warned.

  “Let me say my question a different way,” Virtue continued. “How many pirate ships are there in the region?”

  “More than you can count.”

  “I can count pretty high.”

  “More than I can count, then.” The growled speech ended in a short bark that might have been a laugh.

  “Use your fingers.”

  “Use yours—you have more of them.”

  Virtue smiled wryly and placed the book on the deck between them. She lifted her hands and spread the fingers wide.

  The Theropod glanced at her, barking again.

  “About that many,” he said, nodding his long head toward her hands.

  “They can’t stay in space all the time, though. Where do they go to replenish?”

  “You saw for yourself.”

  “That’s just water. Where do you get food and supplies?”

  “Somewhere in the dark.”

  Liam chopped down with his hand, striking the brute at the back of the skull, right behind the ridges, where he knew it hurt. “This is a waste of time,” he snapped. “We’re done here.”

  Virtue sighed again, retrieved the book, and stepped back. She looked up at Liam and shook her head sadly.

  “He can rot in here until he starves,” Liam said stonily, turning to leave.

  “Wait,” came the growl behind him.

  Virtue turned, but Liam purposely waited a beat before looking back. Virtue took a single step toward the prisoner. “Can you tell me where the base is?”

  “I don’t know, truthfully. I’m just a gunner. But it’s somewhere away from any star.”

  “That’s no help,” Liam lied with venom. “Let’s go.”

  “Listen,” the Theropod continued, voice rising to almost a roar. “There are seven pirate crews that I know of. Seven.”

  “And the base?” Liam demanded.

  “I don’t know.” The reptilian body slumped. “Somewhere in the dark.”

  “I told you,” Liam said to Virtue. “A waste of time.”

  She looked back at the prisoner and then spoke in her best pleadin
g voice, holding up the book. “At least let me give him this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s the merciful thing to do.”

  He made a long show of considering, then assented with an angry wave of the hand before striding out of the cell.

  Virtue emerged from the cell moments later and shut the door.

  “I think that went well,” she said quietly.

  “Yes, but that was just the warm-up,” he reminded her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “A brute can’t read our facial expressions and our tone of voice is lost in translation. A human prisoner will be much more aware.”

  “Well, if it helps, I thought you were truly beastly. Keep it up and I’ll be afraid of you by the end of this,” she said with a little half smile.

  “I find that extremely hard to believe,” he said with a grin. Then he reminded himself that he needed to stay in character, schooling his expression back to haughty indifference and reaching for the next cell door. “You ready?”

  “Ready, sir—let’s do this.”

  The man behind the cell door was pale and gaunt, curled up in the far corner. When the door opened, he glanced up, scanning between Liam and Virtue. From the few records they’d been able to recover from the pirate ship, this Human appeared to have an unusual position on board. He had no official rank, but apparently enough authority to issue orders.

  Liam moved to the other side of the cell, keeping his eyes trained steadily on the man. The man returned the gaze warily before switching to Virtue as she crouched down in front of him.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Held prisoner by a corrupt tyranny,” he spat. “At least when I die it will be as a martyr.”

  “We didn’t tell you to attack the Lightning Louise,” she said evenly. “We just need to stop you from doing that again.”

  “You can’t stop us. Even if you silence me there are many more out there.”

  “How many more?”

  “Legions.”

  Amelia’s eyebrows shot up at this, and she looked over at Liam. He nodded.