“Phantom pain?” she asked.
“I guess so. Not really a fan of it,” Victor said.
“You’ll get yourself fixed up in no time in Mustang,” Fara said. She cocked her head to one side. “So Cormac told me how he and Gaz want you to be our new captain.”
“You don’t approve?” Victor asked.
“No, quite the opposite. You actually seem to know what you’re doing,” Fara said. “And, besides, Warwick stopped being my captain when he abandoned us.”
The Fortune had been nowhere to be found after Lucille’s Bay had been captured. Fortunately four stolen freighters were under the cavernous dome, including Captain Lena Dryer’s Daisy Mae.
“Well, I hope he doesn’t try to take our reward,” Victor said.
Fara snorted. “I doubt that. He’s probably gone to one of the other Free Worlds to recruit more suckers into his crew. Holace Quill does not appreciate failure.”
“Well, I wonder how he’ll react to the way we ended up dealing with Lucille’s Bay,” Victor said.
“I don’t know. Hopefully he’ll be impressed enough to give us a bonus. Though, regardless, the reward just from rescuing these merchant ships and their cargo will be more than enough for us to retire.”
“Is that what you plan on doing?” asked Victor.
Fara shrugged. “I’d probably just get bored sitting around. How about you?”
Victor shook his head. “Even if I did want to retire, which I don’t, I wouldn’t know where to go.”
“Can’t go home?” asked Fara.
Savannah’s burned-out husk flashed across his vision. “No, no I can’t.”
Fara nodded. “That’s how it is with most of us mercenaries. Gaz is an escaped slave from Mohawk.” She pointed at herself. “I’m a wanted criminal back where I’m from, and Cormac doesn’t want to endanger his home by returning there.”
“A wanted criminal? What did you do?” asked Victor.
“I sold weapons from my homeworld’s military to the black market. Made a tidy profit too.” She shrugged. “But I got caught and had to flee. Ended up in the Free Worlds and eventually became the Fortune’s pilot and gunner.”
“So you were a naval officer then,” Victor said.
“Naval officer? No. Meridian, the planet I’m from, didn’t style its space-based military as a navy. But yours did, didn’t it? Are you a Lysandran?”
“No,” Victor said.
Fara tapped her chin, thinking. Victor just lay in his bed, waiting for her to figure it out.
“There are only so many worlds that style their space forces after navies. The Lysandrans are one, and…” She looked at Victor. “So does the Republic of Savannah. Yes, I can see it in your eyes. You’re a Savannan officer. No wonder you seemed to know what you were doing. Everything I’ve heard of Savannah’s Navy says that they were some of the best. They had to be in order to hold off the Lysandrans for a decade. How did you end up here?”
Victor’s face went blank. “The war ended.”
“Ended? We didn’t hear anything about the war ending,” she said.
Victor sighed. “I suspect when we get back, you will.”
***
Captain Dryer invited Victor to the bridge of the Mae when she was just a few minutes away from jumping to the Mustang system. He found her sitting in her chair, overseeing her crew as they worked on their consoles.
Her red hair was freshly brushed, and she had long since exchanged the baggy, bloodstained jumpsuit for a fresh one.
She smiled at Victor when he came in. “Welcome to my bridge, Victor. What do you think of the Mae?”
“Compared to the ships I’ve been on recently, she’s downright luxurious,” Victor said.
She glanced at Victor’s stump. “I’d say you’ve earned the chance to go home in a little comfort.”
Home, Victor thought, his stomach twisting.
“Is there something wrong?” asked Dryer.
“No, no, nothing’s wrong,” Victor said. He gestured with his stump. “Just a bit sore, that’s all.”
Lena nodded. “Well, between the reward you’re getting from High Councilor Quill and for the recovered cargo, you’ll have more than enough money to buy yourself a new arm. It’s just a question of whether or not you want a biological one or a mechanical one.”
Victor looked down at his stump and wriggled invisible fingers. “Hrmm. I haven’t really given it any thought.”
Lena smiled. “I’m sure you’ll pick something nice.”
“Captain, we’re thirty seconds from the jump point,” the Mae’s helmsman said.
“Thanks, Sticks,” she said, then turned to Victor. “Well, let’s see how the Mustangers react to the arrival of our little flotilla.”
Victor nodded.
Sticks, the helmsman, counted down as the Mae approached the jump point. “Jump in three…two…one…”
The viewscreen blanked out from the jump-flash before being replaced by a slightly different starscape.
“We’re being hailed, Captain,” the comm operator said.
“Put them through,” Lena said.
“This is the Mustang vessel Carlstown to recently arriving merchant vessels. Your entry in the system is not scheduled. You will identify yourselves and prepare to be boarded.”
“This is Captain Dryer of the merchant vessel Daisy Mae. We’ve been held captive by Mohawk pirates until we were rescued by mercenaries hired by Holace Quill.”
“That will have to be verified, Daisy Mae. We will need to board and inspect your vessels,” the Carlstown’s captain said.
“Roger that, Carlstown. Be advised we are carrying about thirty captured pirates between us. So be prepared to take prisoners.”
“I’ll inform our boarding parties, Mae. Thank you for the heads-up,” Carlstown said. “Where are these mercenaries you mentioned?”
“Aboard my ship, Carlstown,” Captain Dryer said.
“Roger that, Mae. I’m uploading coordinates for you and the other freighters to park your ships before we board.”
“Roger that, Carlstown.” Lena closed the connection and scratched her temple. “They seemed more tense than usual. I wonder what happened?”
“I think we’ll find out soon,” Victor said. He had a good idea. More than enough time had passed for the news of Savannah’s destruction to have reached Mustang.
***
“So, Captain Sidig, what’s happened to put your people on edge?” asked Lena.
“The war between the Lysandran Empire and the Republic of Savannah ended, Captain Dryer,” the captain of the Carlstown said.
Lena arched an eyebrow. “And that explains the heightened security how?”
“The Lysandran Empire won…and destroyed Savannah.”
Lena gasped, and Cormac’s eyes shot up. Gaz just scowled a bit at the news, while Fara looked at Victor. He made a point not to look back.
“Destroyed? What do you mean, destroyed?”
Captain Sidig grimaced. “Exactly that. The entire planet was sterilized from orbit. Everyone and everything on that planet is dead.”
“Stars above!” Lena said. “How many people were on Savannah?”
“Just short of a billion people,” Victor said coldly. No one asked how he knew.
Captain Sidig nodded. “So, as you can guess, people are worried. The Free Worlds are likely the Lysandran Empire's next target for expansion. And they’ve shown a willingness to destroy worlds that resist them.”
“So what’ll Mustang do about it?” asked Victor.
“That’s above my pay grade. I’m just a gatekeeper,” Captain Sidig said. “You can ask High Councilor Quill when you meet him.”
“Wait. He wants to see us?” asked Fara.
“Yes, I received orders to put all of you on a shuttle headed for the Gryphon. Except for you, Captain Dryer. No offense.”
“None taken,” she said, turning to Victor. “Looks like you’re destined for more esteemed company, Victor. If
we don’t see each other again, I want you to know I appreciate everything you did for me and my crew.”
“I’m certain we’ll run into each other again, Captain Dryer,” Victor said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Victor. I plan on leaving the Free Worlds as soon as I get a chance to,” Lena said. She brushed back her red hair. “This part of space is just too hot for a tramp freighter like the Daisy Mae.”
Victor nodded. “Understood, Captain.”
“If you’re all finished saying your good-byes, I have a shuttle warmed up and waiting in the hangar bay,” Captain Sidig said.
Victor looked to Gaz, Fara, and Cormac; they all nodded.
He returned his attention to the Carlstown’s captain. “We’re ready to go, Captain.”
***
“What’s the word for that feeling you get when you’re sure you’ve been in the same place before?” asked Gaz.
“Déjà vu,” Cormac said.
“Well, I’m definitely feeling day-jar-whatever right now,” Gaz said.
Victor nodded. They were in the same room aboard the Gryphon where Quill had originally tasked the Fortune with destroying Lucille’s Bay. Only this time, just the four of them waited in the room.
The room’s main double doors opened to reveal High Councilor Quill. He entered the room flanked by two bodyguards, his posture erect as he walked to his seat at the head of the table.
When he sat down, he said, “It is rare thing when I am surprised. Even more so when that surprise is a pleasant one.” He looked to Victor. “I understand you deserve most of the credit.”
“I think the credit goes to my team, High Councilor,” Victor said.
“Your team? I recall, when I first met you, you were the newest member of the crew of the now-absent Captain Hyde,” Quill said. “Curious that you come back in charge.”
Victor shrugged. “It wasn’t my decision, sir.”
“Oh, don’t play humble with me, Captain Victor. It’s painfully prosaic,” Quill said. “The fact of the matter is, you took charge and turned a disaster into a victory. That’s a special kind of talent.”
“It was mostly luck, sir. If the pir—”
“I said, enough with the humility, Captain Victor,” Quill said. “I don’t like repeating myself.”
“Yes, sir,” Victor said.
“Good,” Quill said. He nodded toward Victor’s truncated arm. “I'm surprised you can move around under your own power, based on what I’ve been told of your injuries.”
Victor nodded to Cormac. “You can thank him, sir. Cormac is as good at patching up people as he is starships.”
“I see,” Quill said. “Still it’s a shame you lost an arm.”
“I can always get a new one, sir,” Victor said.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” Quill said. “On top of the reward for the mission and the rescued merchant ships and cargo, I thought I would make you a gift.” He snapped his fingers.
A side door opened, and a servant came in, holding a black case. The servant placed the case on the table in front of Victor and then departed the room.
“Well, open it, Victor,” Quill said.
Victor reached out with his left arm and pressed the button on the case’s latch. The case split open, revealing a beautifully made prosthetic hand.
“That’s the latest technology, based on reversed-engineered First Civilization tech,” Quill said. “You can put it on now, if you like.”
Victor stared at the arm and then looked to Quill. “What do you want in return for it?”
“Nothing, Victor. It’s a gift.”
Victor didn’t believe him, but still the arm looked nice. He wasn’t an expert on prosthetics, but he knew technology, and what he saw looked advanced.
The prosthetic was made of a light-absorbing matte black composite material.
“Has this been sized for me?” Victor asked.
“No,” Quill said. “Doesn’t need to be.”
Victor looked down at the stump resting in the sling on his chest, wrapped in a layer of bandages. Can’t say I’ve enjoyed the experience of having one hand. And my life has been hard enough. So why the hell not?
He pulled the sling over his head and let it drop to the deck. A part of him, the part forged in the halls of the Savannah Naval Academy, wondered what the proper etiquette was for putting on a mechanical arm in the presence of a world’s de facto leader. But most of him was eager to have a right hand again.
He unwrapped the bandages from his stump, which was still red from healing. He then picked up the prosthetic from its case and stared at it for a moment, holding its open end toward him.
He plunged the stump of his arm into the opening, glad to feel only minor pain. The sleeve expanded to fit his arm, and his flesh tingled. The open hand twisted side to side as it aligned itself with the bones of his arm.
Victor flinched when the hand snapped into a fist. He stared at the clenched fist for a few seconds and then opened it.
“Oh, wow,” Victor said, as he flipped the hand around, wiggling the fingers. It felt almost like his real hand. “That was fast.”
“Yes,” Quill said. “That prosthetic is cutting-edge. It interprets the signals from your nervous system and adjusts itself accordingly. Therefore, acclimation is almost instant.”
“I see.” Victor tried to pull off the hand with his left hand. It didn’t budge. “What’s holding it in place?”
“It anchored itself to your bones,” Quill said.
“Bones?” Victor said incredulously. “It didn’t even hurt.”
“I take it that you like it?” Quill asked.
“It’s better than a stump, that’s for sure,” Victor said.
“Good,” Quill said. He snapped his fingers. Instantly the side door opened again, this time for a line of servants carrying covered trays.
The servants set the trays on the table and then laid out plates, cutlery, and glasses in front of the four mercenaries.
Then the servants removed the covers, revealing a cornucopia of fine food. The sight was appetizing, the smell more so.
“Don’t wait for me,” Quill said with a wide smile on his face. “Dig in!”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Gaz said. He picked up a whole roast chicken off a platter and dug into it with his spiked teeth.
Victor tried to ignore Gaz’s less-than-perfect table manners and served himself a slice of steak.
With a fork held in his new hand, he stabbed a small morsel he had cut off and guided it to his mouth. The meat was succulent, but Victor was more impressed with how well the hand worked.
Victor ate with relish. He was once again reminded how he hadn’t had a meal this good since the last one his mother had cooked.
All of a sudden, he dropped his fork on his plate with a half-chewed piece stuck in his mouth as his appetite disappeared in a sudden wave of nausea.
Victor swallowed the last of his food, then said, “Excuse me,” and stood.
The others watched him; even Gaz stopped ripping apart another chicken to stare at him with concern.
“Is there a problem with the food?” asked Holace Quill, looking up from his filleted fish.
“No, no. Nothing is wrong with the food. I just…” He felt his stomach churn. “Is there a bathroom?”
“Yes, my servant can show you,” Quill said.
“This way, sir,” a well-dressed man said.
Victor followed the servant out the main door, his mouth firmly clamped shut lest he risk throwing up all over the deck. The man stopped at a clearly marked men’s room just on the other side of the corridor of the main hall.
Victor pushed open the door and walked in, making a beeline for the nearest stall, and promptly threw up the fine food he had just eaten.
He was dry heaving by the time the wave of nausea passed.
He tore some tissue from a wall dispenser in the stall and wiped his mouth before throwing it into the toilet and
hitting the Flush button.
He then walked over to the sink and ran the faucet, splashing cold water on his face.
God, I need to be more careful about where I am when I think of home, Victor thought. Probably best if I just tried to forget.
He filled a cup resting next to the sink and drank some water, swishing it around his mouth before spitting into the sink. The nausea disappeared, along with his appetite. Which was probably for the best. He washed his hands and left the bathroom.
Outside, instead of the servant who had guided him to the bathroom, Victor found Holace Quill waiting for him.
“I’d like to talk to you,” Quill said.
“If this is about what just happened, I—”
Quill interrupted him with an upraised hand. “It’s not that. I’ve been meaning to speak with you in private.”
Why? Victor thought. “Uh, what for?”
“I think that we have much to discuss, Captain Victor Selan,” Quill said.
Victor’s blood froze. “How…?”
“I’ll explain in my office,” Quill said, turning to walk down the corridor. Neither of his bodyguards were in sight.
Victor followed the high councilor to his office, which was comfortable, but surprisingly spare. It seemed more suited for actual work than impressing guests.
Quill sat in the office chair behind his desk as Victor walked inside. “You probably are curious how I know who you are.”
“I am,” Victor said.
“You look a lot like a young diplomat from Savannah I met a couple years ago,” he said.
“Daniel.”
Quill nodded, “Yes, Daniel Selan. He made a very compelling case for an alliance between Mustang and Savannah. I’m sorry about what that beast Quintus Marsh did to him.”
Victor nodded. He was surprised how much it still hurt to think of Daniel’s murder, after everything that had happened afterward. “I assume you want to do more than just express your sympathy.”
Quill smiled and nodded. “Quite right, Captain. I’ll be direct. With Savannah destroyed, the Free Worlds will be Emperor Magnus’ next target for conquest.”
“And you want my help fighting him when that happens,” Victor said.
“Exactly,” Quill said.
Victor folded his arms across his chest. “Why should I help you when you did nothing to help my world?”
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