Hawkins shook his head. “He’s been told that all his life and what has happened? He continued to use the stuff, continued to fall further down the social order, and continued to move further out in space.” Hawkins smiled at the young woman. “Blondie, we’re pirates. We don’t reform bad people, we ARE bad people.” Both Tactical and Baby Doll smiled at that. Rafe continued in a quiet tone. “There are damn few benefits to being a pirate, but one of them is, nobody tries to reform anyone. Everyone can be a pirate and bring their bad habits, addictions, and fetishes with them. If someone has habits that offend you, you stay away from them. If these habits really offend you, then you leave or you force them to leave. If you’re really, really, offended, you kill them. But you NEVER reform them. We don’t judge Doc Windsor and we don’t try to fix him so he probably uses fewer drugs now than at any time in his adult life because he knows he can use drugs whenever he wants. As long as he can still perform his duties, we will leave him alone. So far, he has always been able to do his work so there is no problem. He is in a perfect situation here. He gets to use his drugs with no hassle, and we get one of the finest medical men in the Badlands. If we tried to reform him, he would just bolt and both sides lose. The crew loves him and would take a dim view of anything that would force him to leave. I also would take that same dim view. Leave the status quo alone, please.
“Now, on to Eli. You’re a pirate now. We don’t have a solid chain of command or a book of regulations governing us. The simple fact is, several members of the crew will push you just to see what you’ll put up with. Now I could issue an order not to mess with you and the crew would mostly obey it, but that won’t help in the long run. You have to set the boundaries yourself by inflicting pain on someone who pushes you too far.”
“I know a few basic defense moves from Academy classes, but I don’t think I can beat up half the crew, Captain,” Blondie said with a sigh.
“You won’t have to. You take out somebody one time and word will get around. I remember some guy trying to get cute with Tactical years ago. She left him with a dislocated knee, three broken ribs, and a broken face. Nobody messed with her after that. Word got around. You don’t have to get that serious, but you will have to make a point of showing your displeasure by stomping on someone’s face. If you don’t, some of the crew will continue to push you until you push back.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Just be sure it is the right time and place with the right person on which to make a point. Strike the first blow without warning and make sure it hurts a lot.”
Blondie nodded her head.
“One last point,” Hawkins spoke as he held up his left hand with the index finger extended. “You like to quote from the classics now and then. Nothing wrong with that. The problem is how that might get you in trouble with the locals and the crew would have to help you. Now…”
Blondie jumped in, “If I get in trouble, I am not expecting the crew to leap to my defense. Nobody has to put themselves out for me.”
At the moment, Blondie could have sworn the temperature in the compartment dropped ten degrees. The captain was staring at her through narrowed eyes. She shifted her eyes left without turning her head and saw Baby Doll had taken a quiet step back. She could feel Tactical’s eyes boring into her back. She quickly reviewed what she had said and couldn’t see where she had gone wrong. She refocused on the captain. He was looking at her, but his eyes were slightly out of focus as he considered his response. His eyes now refocused directly on her. Blondie could almost hear the verbal missile roll into the launch tube and lock in place. Hawkins’ left index finger pointed at her as he took aim. Here it comes. Blondie physically braced herself for missile impact. Surprisingly, Captain Hawkins spoke quietly and tenderly.
“I can see we have neglected some parts of your pirate indoctrination. We have our house and our loved ones who live there, but we spend ninety percent of our time away from them out in space. Out here, we are all we got. We support each other no matter what. Whatever you do, even if it is totally stupid, all Predator crewmembers within hearing distance will support you. If a further response is needed, this ship will seek revenge on whoever has it coming to them. Governments won’t protect us; social groups won’t support us. We are shunned in all societies. We must help each other if we are to survive. The crew will support you no matter what. They will die for you, and they expect you to do the same for them. That is the way it is. However, I would prefer crewmembers did not get killed or maimed in a damn bar room brawl because you started quoting Tennyson. You have people here who support you. They will stay with you through hell and back. Make sure you use that power very carefully.”
Blondie stared down at her feet. “I’m… I’m sorry, Captain. It won’t happen again.”
Rafe smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it. You survived your first bar room shootout and did a fine job besides. You’re collecting equipment and parts in a quick manner, and got the other ships prepping for the work ahead. You’re well on your way to being an OD. I think you’re doing very well, Blondie. Keep it up and you’ll have great stories with which to bore your kids and grandkids for decades to come.”
Blondie smiled back. “They’ll never believe them, Captain.” She continued in a quiet voice. “Hell, I’m here and I’m not sure I believe it.”
Everyone laughed, even Tactical.
After Blondie’s departure, Rafe motioned his two crewmates to grab a chair. He frowned at them as he gathered his thoughts. There were aspects of pirate culture he despised and the habit of pushing each other to see what an individual would tolerate was one of them. For Raferty, if a person volunteered to serve on his ship, did the hard work, and accepted the danger, that was good enough for him and should have been good enough for anybody. But it never seemed to be enough for some people.
He spoke as he ordered his thoughts. “Blondie has more important things to do than look for someone to beat up so nobody will push her around.” He paused and then continued. “See how this fits. There were only a few of us in the bar room shootout. I’ll talk to Doc, Ace, and Joker about this. What if the story got around that Blondie was one hell of a bar room shooter? Think that will get us where we want to go here?”
Both women nodded.
“Should,” agreed Tactical. “Stories like that grow on their own.”
“Easy to plant the seeds,” Baby Doll added. “We drop a few comments and, soon enough, Blondie will be Billy the Kid.”
Rafe nodded. “Let’s do it. Word will get around.” And it did.
Chapter 11
Blondie tried to work at her desk in her cabin but quickly gave up. She leaned forward in her chair, put her elbows on the desk, and then put her head in her hands. She took a deep breath. She had killed a man. Nobody from the landing party had sought the fight and it had been in self-defense, but she had killed a man. There was no getting around that fact. She had accepted that as part of the job when she had been commissioned into the Royal Navy, but had always thought it would be in a declared war against a faceless enemy in ships far away. Never up close and personal in a damn bar room. She could see his face. She could smell her own singed hair. She could feel the overheating shooter in her hand. She could hear energy bolts impacting…
Suddenly there was a knock at the entrance going into the head she shared with Baby Doll and then Baby Doll came through the hatch. She had come through the head from her cabin and now took a seat on Blondie’s rack and made herself comfortable. Blondie stared at her uninvited guest. She opened her mouth, but a knock came at her hatch leading out to the passageway.
“Come in,” Baby Doll said before Blondie had a chance to respond.
Tactical came in and made herself comfortable next to Baby Doll. Blondie realized both of the women had bags in their hands. Blondie stared at them with a silent question.
Predictably, Baby Doll took up the conversation. “We come bearing treats.” With that Baby Doll removed two tall green bottles from her bag while announcing,
“Potenkan Spirit.” Tactical produced two square boxes with the words, “And chocolates for any occasion.”
With that, Baby Doll took three glasses from the bags and poured while Tactical unwrapped the candy. Soon everyone had a full glass in hand and several candies within easy reach.
Blondie took a long drink. A sweet, tangy taste lingered on her taste buds. “This is good. Is it really alcohol?”
“Ask me that again when the compartment starts spinning,” Baby Doll replied between candy bites.
Blondie smiled and then looked serious. “Why are you here?”
Surprisingly, it was Tactical who responded. “I assume that was the first person you’ve ever killed?”
Blondie stared at her but remained silent. Getting no response, Tactical went on, “I thought so. We figured we would drop in and talk about it.”
“I don’t know if I want…”
Baby Doll cut her off. “Talk about it now or talk about it later. Eventually, you’ll want to get it off your chest, and now is always better than later.” Baby Doll now smiled at her. “You know, that could be the motto of my life.”
Blondie looked down at the deck. “I feel like I committed a murder.”
“You helped save us from an ambush by a hit squad. I don’t think you would feel better if we were all dead now. You do what you have to do to survive. We depend on each other and you did what you should have done.”
Blondie looked at her glass and swirled the golden liquid. “Will it get better?”
Both visitors leaned back on the rack with their backs against the bulkhead, and considered the question.
“Yes,” Tactical responded first. “You have to realize the consequences of not acting. I have killed more people than I would care to count, but I honestly believe they had it coming. The people in the bar were there to kill us. The Goths are at war with us as they try to control the Badlands. We try to avoid innocents getting caught in the line of fire, and we work to make things better. Despite the fighting and killing, and my part in it, I sleep well at night.”
“No regrets?”
Tactical paused for a moment. “The few regrets I have usually concern the ones who got away. Invariably you see them again.”
Blondie now addressed Baby Doll. “Any regrets?”
Baby Doll nodded toward Tactical. “Same one she has. You always see them again, usually when they think they have the advantage.” She now looked at Blondie solemnly. “We have killed a lot of people but never on a whim or for fun. We want to make the Badlands better, and any change always produces winners and losers. The losers have no intention of giving up money, power, or material goods without a fight. They fight or hire people to fight for them. If they win, the Badlands get worse for most people living there. If we win, the Badlands gets better for most people. We are on the side of the angels; we just don’t look the part.” She paused and then added. “I’ve never lost any sleep over it either. None of them are worth it.”
“No talking it out with the people on the other side?” asked Blondie.
Tactical had a twinge of bitterness in her voice. “All the talkers are dead. Killed a long time ago. Usually while they were involved in negotiations with the people who would betray and then kill them. We don’t talk with the people we oppose. It would just get us killed.” Blondie guessed she was speaking from experience.
“Why were those guys after us?” Blondie needed to know it was worth it.
“We’re looking into that now. Captain and Father Stapleton are in communication. The Father will get something. If I had to guess, I would say somebody saw us arrive, knew there was a price on us, so hired some local talent to try to take us down. There are enough bounties out there on us; it could have been any number of people. We’ll hear something about who hired them from the Father.”
Time passed as the three women talked about the shootout, then moved to pirate etiquette, and on to the upcoming mission against the OrCons. Blondie’s mood brightened as the spirit and chocolates disappeared at a steady rate. Laughs soon dominated the conversation as stories and observations on life were exchanged.
“I’m glad you came over tonight,” Blondie remarked as seriously as the alcohol would allow. She held up her glass in a not-very-steady salute to her two visitors.
“Sometimes you need to work things out alone,” Baby Doll matched her alcohol-induced solemnity. “But sometimes you have to have friends around to talk it out.”
“Everything in life is sometimes.” Blondie was slurring her words.
The two visitors looked at each other. “Who said that?” Baby Doll asked.
“I just did,” Blondie responded with a tone of surprise.
“No,” Tactical joined in. “Who are you quoting?”
“Nobody. That one is all mine.”
“That’s very profound.” Baby Doll was impressed.
“Yes, it is,” agreed Tactical.
Blondie leaned toward them. “Thank you.” But she kept leaning and leaning until Baby Doll caught her just before she slipped off her chair to the deck. She was out cold.
“Our work here is done,” Baby Doll announced as she held Blondie to keep her off the deck.
“She can drink more than I thought,” Tactical said as she rose to help lay out Blondie on her rack and throw a blanket over her. “Got the hangover cure?”
“Yep,” Baby Doll replied as she reached into the bag and removed a small vial of liquid.
“Straight from Doc Windsor?” Tactical asked as she tucked the blanket around Blondie.
“His best stuff. The crew swears by it. Apparently he is not holding a grudge against Blondie.” Baby Doll placed the vial on the nightstand next to the rack with a note stating, “In case of hangover, drink me.”
“If anyone would have a great hangover cure, it’s the Doc,” Tactical agreed. The two women quietly departed after turning out the overhead light and leaving the lamp attached to the rack’s headboard on. Blondie began to snore softly.
Chapter 12
Twelve hours later Blondie had recovered from the night in her compartment and now manned her intel station on the bridge with Baby Doll. Tactical was nearby on the operations station. Blondie thanked Baby Doll and Tactical for the hangover remedy. Both gave credit to Doc Windsor. Blondie was in good spirits and was adjusting well in the aftermath of her first gunfight.
A message came in from Father Stapleton. The attackers were local men hired by the Charge de’affaires of the New Brittany mission on Sundance Drift. No government maintained an embassy on the Drift, but due to the planet’s strategic location, several had informal representatives who looked after their government’s interests if the need arose. These people were natives from the appropriate planet and were working on the Drift, usually as local business operators or traders.
New Brittany was a large system adjunct to the Badlands. The population was concentrated on three habitable planets. Their government was represented on Sundance Drift by a manager at one of the shipyards. The man was in a position to know of the scheduled arrival or pop up arrival of all ships long before the information would have become general knowledge. It would have given the man enough time to organize a strike against the pirates.
“Why would New Brittany care about us?” Blondie asked Baby Doll while both were at the intel station on the bridge.
“New Brittany does dirty work for the Goths. Whenever the Goths want something done but want to maintain deniability, they ship the job to them… for a fee, of course.”
“Tell her about Fusilier,” Tactical spoke from her station as she ran through a series of checks.
“Of course.” Baby Doll turned back to Blondie. “The Bries have a small Navy. They have three light cruisers that are on call to do work for the Goths. These ships work as bounty hunters while having all the privileges of naval vessels of a sovereign government. Fusilier, Musketeer, and Chasseur are generally called the three musketeers, although Fusilier is the lead ship of the class. A ye
ar ago, some do-gooders brought a small ship into the Badlands. The good ship Redemption with a crew of twenty-one. Two close-in laser weapons for protection. They were going to singlehandedly stop the slave trade and all the other bad things going on in the Badlands. Never started any shooting or anything like that. They followed slavers around broadcasting the slaver’s position on open nets for everyone to hear. They would report on Goth activities over an open net and then send out text reports each day to the entire universe. Generally just making pains of themselves.”
“Must have made them highly unpopular with the powers that be,” Blondie interjected.
“Oh, yeah. After six weeks of this, Redemption disappeared and nobody knows what happened to her.”
Tactical leaned over from her operations seat. “Except us.”
“That’s right,” Baby Doll nodded. “Small ships like Redemption don’t carry a data stream transmitter. Too expensive, and power requirements too high. But we knew the do-gooders and outfitted the ship with a cheap transmitter on battery power. It didn’t transmit on a broadband nor could it transmit very long, but we rigged it so if the ship took any hits or power went out, the transmitter would start sending data on a narrow beam to our Fort. We got the download next time we passed through the Fort. Fusilier had ambushed Redemption from subspace. Fight lasted about thirty seconds. Redemption had two escape pods. She launched one and Fusilier played laser tag with it. The second launched, but the recording ended before we saw what happened. Redemption probably blew up just after the second pod departed. It is safe to assume the second pod didn’t make it either.”
“Why haven’t you reported this?” Blondie asked.
Both women looked at her as if she was crazy.
“To whom?” They both said at the same time.
Blondie frowned at her own naivety. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
Tactical picked up the narrative. “We hear about Fusilier every now and then. When the time is right and we’ve the forces available, she is going to get hammered, and hammered hard. Musketeer and Chasseur are on that list too. They think they’ve gotten away with it but we are patient.” She then looked seriously at Blondie. “Only the captains and a couple of people on each ship know this story so keep it to yourself.”
Payback Is a Given: Pirates of the Badlands Series Book 2 Page 9
