The Lost Sword

by Huw Powell

  Jake noticed that Farid had a nasty cut on his forehead and Nichelle was holding her wrist. What had he done? Kella rushed past him with her medical kit and started examining Kodan’s shoulder. Jake quickly removed his gold pendant, in case she needed the crystals. At the same moment, Granny Leatherhead appeared in the doorway, brandishing her cutlass.

  “Who was it?” she demanded. “Who’s the dog with the death wish?”

  Maaka and Woorak glared at Jake. He knew there was no point trying to deny what had happened.

  “It was me.”

  “Kid Cutler,” she snarled, her single eye twitching. “I should have known. Bored, were you? Thought it would be fun to blow up some space mines, did you?”

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” he said. “I thought they were asteroids.”

  Granny Leatherhead held up her fist. “I ought to string you up by your fingertips.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “You’re nothing but trouble. I should have thrown you out of the air lock the day I met you.” Granny Leatherhead glanced at the door. “Mind you, it’s not too late to correct that mistake.”

  “Captain, wait,” said Maaka. “The lad was reckless, but it was an honest mistake.”

  “Aye, that’s r-r-right,” stammered Woorak.

  Granny Leatherhead glared at them.

  “No one is seriously hurt,” said Kella. “Kodan’s shoulder should heal in a few days.”

  “And the ship is still operational.” Nichelle pointed to a row of green lights on her control panel. “The shields absorbed most of the impact.”

  Granny Leatherhead threw her hands into the air.

  “Fine,” she said. “I won’t make him walk the air lock this time, but he still needs to be punished.”

  “We could ban him from using the laser cannon,” suggested Farid.

  “That would be a shame,” said Maaka. “Jake has a lot of potential. He could be handy in a space battle.”

  Woorak nodded in agreement.

  “Just give me a chance,” said Jake. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”

  Granny Leatherhead rolled her eye to the ceiling.

  “You’re lucky that I’m too weak to give you lashes,” she said, poking him with a gnarled finger. “I want you out of my sight. Get yourself suited up and check the hull for damage. And when you’ve finished that, you can clean off every scrap of star weed.”

  “But we’re still moving . . . ,” he began, before catching the crazed glint in her eye. “Aye, Captain.”

  “That might have to wait,” said Nichelle. “We’re approaching the service port.”

  Located on the edge of the sixth solar system, the service port was a lot larger than Jake had expected. According to Woorak, it was used to repair passenger ships and space tankers. As they approached, Jake noticed several half-built vessels nestled in its outdoor maintenance bays, each of them swarming with engineers in spacesuits. He also spotted the glistening red hull of the Rough Diamond III salvage trawler, docked between two weathered cargo haulers.

  No one challenged the Dark Horse on arrival, which meant that the Interstellar Navy had not yet circulated the cargo hauler’s new registration plates. Nichelle docked without incident and a landing party gathered in the air lock. Granny Leatherhead asked Maaka and Kodan to escort Jake, Kella, and Nanoo into the service port. Farid, who normally led the landing parties, would be left behind as punishment for the botched spacejacking.

  Maaka guided the small group out of the air lock and onto a wide walkway, which was larger and cleaner than most service ports. There were still engineers and mechanics munching on greasy snacks, but their overalls were brighter and more colorful, reminding Jake of how space pirate crews each wore different-colored combat suits.

  After a twenty-minute walk and four wrong turns, they located the main canteen. There were at least a hundred people inside sitting around tables, while others gathered at the counter, which made it difficult to spot Baden and his salvage crew. Jake hoped that there weren’t any fortune seekers hidden in the crowd, as he stood on tiptoe to get a better view.

  “There is Baden,” said Nanoo, pointing to a table at the far end of the counter. “And I see Kiki, Gunnar, and Reinhart.”

  “Who’s that with them?” wondered Kella.

  Jake spotted a short man in a dock master’s uniform standing by Baden’s table. He was holding a handheld computer and shaking his head. Baden was dressed in his dirty orange exploration suit and had a mouthful of chewing gum. As they approached the table, Jake heard the dock master talking in a flustered voice.

  “Mr. Scott, you cannot leave this port until you’ve settled your bill.”

  “But how are we supposed to make the money to pay you if we’re stuck in here?” argued Baden.

  The dock master referred to his device. “You told me last week that you were selling a property on Reus.”

  “My holiday home?” said Baden. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, pal, but no one is buying property in the seventh solar system while a naval fleet is camped out there.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not my problem, Mr. Scott. If you don’t pay your outstanding fees by this time tomorrow, we’ll be forced to impound the Rough Diamond III under Interstellar Law.”

  The short man turned off his handheld computer and left the table while Baden sank lower in his seat.

  “I thought that you had loads of money,” said Jake.

  Baden looked up in surprise and cracked a smile. “Jake? What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  The salvage captain had tired eyes, faded brown hair, and thick stubble. He kicked out a chair for Jake to sit down.

  “Another family outing?” he asked, noticing the others. “I’m glad to see that you guys are keeping clear of the seventh solar system. It’s a shame my crew is stuck here when there’s going to be so much to salvage around Vantos.”

  Jake took the seat. “What happened to all of the money you made from the Novu shipwreck?”

  “I blew most of it on the new ship and holiday home,” said Baden. “The rest went on good times and Interstellar Sports. Now I have a ship that I can’t use, a holiday home that I can’t visit, and a docking fee that I can’t afford. At this rate, I’ll have to take up spacejacking.”

  Baden shot Maaka and Kodan a knowing look. He had once told them that his ancestors were from Zerost, meaning that he had space pirate blood in his veins, despite being a legitimate salvager.

  “We need your help,” said Jake.

  Baden eyed him curiously. “Is this about that Altian wreck I dismantled?”

  Jake leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I need to ask you some more questions.”

  “But I’ve told you everything I know,” said Baden. “That wreck was dismantled years ago; there’s nothing left.”

  “What about the sword?”

  Baden frowned. “What sword?”

  “When we first met, you mentioned a golden sword,” said Jake. “Did you find it on the shipwreck?”

  “Yes, but how do you know that?”

  “Just a guess. Do you still have the sword?”

  “I wish.” Baden rubbed the scar on his stubbly chin. “I did find a golden sword on that Altian wreck. It was hidden inside a secret compartment, but I lost it years ago, along with the first Rough Diamond. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. It was shaped like a cutlass, and it had a diamond, a ruby, and an emerald embedded in the hilt.”

  “What happened to your ship?” asked Maaka.

  “I lost it in a game of Reus roulette,” said Baden. “I gambled my salvage trawler and the sword, but ended up losing both to the space mafia.”

  “Where’s the sword now?” asked Jake.

  “How should I know?” said Baden. “It’s probably still in the illegal spaceport.”

  “Do you mean Papa Don’s?”

  Baden nodded and Jake’s heart sank. Papa Don’s was only a few days away, but
the seventh solar system was crawling with naval warships and Gork fighter craft.

  “Was there anything else in the Altian wreck?” he asked. “Did you see a crown?”

  “A crown?” repeated Baden. “Are you telling me that the ship belonged to Altian royalty?”

  Jake hesitated. “Yeah, something like that.”

  Baden whistled. “The Interstellar Navy removed everything else before we arrived, but they must have missed the sword. Now that you mention it, I did see one of the naval officers holding a damaged photo of a young boy wearing a gold pendant. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Jake instinctively reached for his chest, but caught himself. He remembered Commissioner Lamia Dolosa from the Galactic Trade Corporation mentioning something about a picture. It must have been how Admiral Nex knew to search the galaxy for him. Had the admiral also taken the crown of Altus? If so, had it been aboard the ISS Colossus when the super-destroyer disappeared inside the black hole? What if the crown was lost forever?

  Jake had to get the sword, whatever it took. He just hoped it would be enough on its own.

  Chapter 10

  Man Overboard

  “You want to do what?” shouted Granny Leatherhead.

  “I want to return to the seventh solar system.”

  Jake stood in the captain’s quarters with Kella and Nanoo, while Farid settled the docking bill.

  “Sure, why not,” she said, with no hint of sincerity. “Any particular part? I hear that Vantos is nice to visit, if you don’t mind being blown to stardust.”

  “Papa Don’s.”

  Granny Leatherhead almost leaped out of her bed. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

  “I know it’s risky,” said Jake. “But it’s the only way to get the sword of Altus.”

  “Baden lost it in game,” explained Nanoo.

  “And what makes you think that Papa Don, a notorious space mafia boss, will give you a priceless Altian artifact?” she asked, incredulously.

  “I’ll explain the situation to him,” said Jake. “I’m sure that he’ll see reason.”

  “Ha!” Granny Leatherhead laughed. “There’s nothing reasonable about that callous crook.”

  “We have to try,” said Jake. “The sword is our only hope of convincing the independent colonies to act.”

  “What about the crown?”

  “I’m working on it,” he lied.

  Jake hoped the sword and the pendant would be enough to prove that he was the ruler of Altus.

  “I’m sorry,” said Granny Leatherhead. “But it’s too dangerous in that neck of the galaxy right now.”

  “Too dangerous?” exclaimed Kella. “I know you’re weakened, but this is important.”

  Granny Leatherhead seemed irritated by the challenge and she scowled at Kella. “Give me one good reason why I should go anywhere near that solar system.”

  Kella held her ground, her emerald-green eyes burning with determination. “Because you owe me for healing you.”

  Granny Leatherhead cursed out loud. “You three will be the death of me. Fine, we’ll head to Papa Don’s, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you. If the naval warships don’t kill us, that miserable mobster might.”

  “Thanks, Captain.”

  Jake turned to leave the room.

  “Not so fast, Kid Cutler,” she said. “You still need to be punished.”

  Jake spent the next morning clinging to the hull of the Dark Horse as it powered through space. It was the most exhilarating punishment that he had ever received, as well as the most terrifying. Despite the fact that he was attached to a tow cable, there was still the danger of slipping and getting fried by the exhausts.

  It had taken him hours to check the hull for damage, and he was relieved to find nothing more serious than a few dents. Now, he was scraping off star weed with a plastic spatula, which was not easy in a baggy spacesuit. Star weed was a sticky organic substance that drifted through space in patches. Jake had read somewhere that it was responsible for spreading life throughout the universe, fertilizing barren planets over millions of years. All he knew was that it got caught on spaceships and it made the hull slippery.

  Jake had cleaned only half the ship, but he was getting tired and hungry. The Dark Horse was entering the seventh solar system, which meant that they were at least a day away from Papa Don’s. Jake attached his space boots to a clear section of hull and stood up. His arms and legs ached and it felt good to stretch. He took a moment to admire the spectacular view.

  “Magnifty.”

  It was as though he were flying through space by himself. How he had dreamed of this moment, alone in the cosmos, just him and the big black. He stared at the stars and wondered if anyone had ever counted them all. A constellation in the shape of an arrow caught his eye. It was the first solar system, the only one to be entirely populated by United Worlds. How small and innocent it looked, surrounded by such a vast, unexplored universe. But the first solar system was far from harmless. It was the home of the Interstellar Government and the Interstellar Navy.

  “Jake,” interrupted Farid via the helmet communicator. “You had better get inside.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We’re picking up a naval warship on the long-range scanner,” said Farid. “It’s Admiral Vantard.”

  Jake’s eyes darted from star to star, trying to spot the ISS Magnificent. He clambered back toward the air lock, but in his haste, he stood on a clump of star weed and lost his footing.

  “No!” he shouted as his boots skidded off the hull.

  Jake tumbled into space, while his lifeline slid along the tow cable. He swiped at the thick wire, but by the time he grabbed it, he was already twenty feet from the Dark Horse, trailing behind the ship like a broken anchor.

  “Help!” he cried.

  “Jake? What’s going on out there?” asked Farid.

  “Man overboard.”

  Nichelle changed course and the tow cable swung out to the side, casting Jake away from the ship. He had seen people on the Interstellar Sports channel space-skiing behind shuttles, but he failed to see how it could be fun.

  “Hold on,” said Farid. “I’ll send someone to reel you in once we’re in the clear.”

  The tow cable twisted and Jake flipped over with it. In the distance, he glimpsed a large ship with a midnight-blue hull. A flock of smaller craft followed behind it like seagulls chasing a fishing boat. Jake had to get inside fast or risk catching a laser bolt in the chest, like Machete Morgan. He gritted his teeth and began to pull himself back toward the Dark Horse, one hand at a time.

  Nichelle changed direction and Jake was slammed into the side of the ship. He groped at the hull but failed to get a hold before bouncing off again. There was still a good ten feet to the air lock and his energy was fading fast. He pulled himself forward, keeping an eye on the naval warship.

  “You had better hold on tight,” said Farid. “This is going to get rough.”

  A bright laser bolt shot past the Dark Horse, briefly illuminating its scarred features. The cargo hauler’s secret panels lifted to reveal its pirate markings, and sawed-off laser cannon emerged from hidden gun ports. Jake could make out the faces of Maaka and Woorak through the narrow gun deck windows.

  “Nearly there,” he said to himself. “A few more feet.”

  More laser bolts streamed past the ship and Nichelle took evasive action, steering the Dark Horse in seemingly random directions. Jake was tossed about on the tow cable as it whipped like grass in the wind.

  “Jake,” said Farid, his voice barely audible over the laser cannon. “We need to raise the shields.”

  “But I’ll be stuck out here. Wait, I’m almost—”

  A laser bolt struck the side of the Dark Horse, knocking it off course and sending shockwaves along the tow cable. The impact threw Jake backward and left him dangling ten feet from the ship. The air-lock door might as well have been a mile away, for all the good it would do him. Any second now, Nichelle w
ould raise the shields, activate Nanoo’s rear boosters, and blast the cargo hauler to safety. Jake watched the tow cable sway in front of him like a long metal snake. It looked so easy when the space-skiers did their tricks and jumped through hoops.

  “That’s it,” he said.

  “What is?”

  “You have to get someone to open the air lock, then I need Nichelle to do a slow turn away from the warship, before switching back toward it.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Farid.

  Jake had no time to explain. “Please, just do it.”

  A few seconds later, amber lights flashed on the hull and the air-lock door cracked open. Jake braced himself as the Dark Horse turned slowly in one direction, casting him out on the tow cable.

  “Now!” he cried.

  The old cargo hauler turned sharply back the other way, cutting across the path of the curling cable. Jake focused on the open air-lock door, pretending it was a hoop that he had to jump through. He had never space-skied in his life, and he hoped that he had judged the angle right. It was too late to change his mind now.

  Laser bolts flashed past him as he hurtled toward the air-lock door. Faces filled the surrounding portholes, and for a split second he glimpsed their amazed expressions before a laser bolt severed the tow cable in two. Jake was sent cartwheeling into the air lock, the remains of the wire thrashing behind him. His arm caught the door frame and twisted him around, slamming him backward into the rear wall. The air was knocked from his lungs as the section of tow cable struck him in the ribs like a steel club. He curled into a ball, fighting for breath, while the outer door closed and oxygen levels were restored.

  The shields raised and Jake felt the Dark Horse surge forward. He locked his arm around a wall strap and waited for the boosters to stop. When they were in the clear, he removed his helmet and rubbed his sore ribs. The inner hatch opened and Granny Leatherhead stood in the doorway.

  “I think you’ve learned your lesson,” she said.

  Jake spent the next day in the medical bay. Kella fussed over him with the gold pendant, using the crystals to heal his bruised ribs and injured arm. He was starting to realize why so few spacejackers made it to retirement.