Skulls & Crossbones

by Andi Marquette

  And then came the piloting and gunnery lessons. Although these lessons never occurred on any regular schedule, the first one seemed to set the tone for all that followed. They began seven weeks into the journey, in the depths of what Jesse would have considered "night" since she had chosen that time to sleep.

  Klaxons sounded, and Dance's urgent voice jerked Jesse from a sound and desperately needed sleep. She struggled into her boots and pants, and yelled for lights so she could locate a shirt. Dance did not oblige, and Jesse stumbled to the bridge bare-breasted, losing one magnetic boot as she went. She kicked the other one off , heard it chunk against something behind her in the corridor, then swam through zero gravity the remaining distance forward and swung herself into the pilot's couch. She strapped in and tried to take in the scene from the bridge, but chaos does not lend itself to resolution, especially in the first ninety seconds after awakening.

  "Now what do I do?" Jesse screamed. Dance, apparently thoroughly enjoying ducking and dodging the ship that had appeared on the view screen, did not answer right away. Warning lights had appeared all over the console in a variety of colors and urgency, and Jesse slapped at the controls to try to correct the apparent collision course with hell. She only had the most rudimentary idea of what she was doing, and with no time to consider, she could only respond and hope she did not do something that would get them killed.

  "Might I suggest you shoot the barstards, mate?" Dance finally replied, laughing. Jesse did not immediately recognize or appreciate the silly accent the computerized voice had taken on, so filed it away for later consideration. Dance ducked aside again, the ship rolling ninety degrees to the vertical then pitching sickeningly back the other direction as she wove among the space debris. Jesse finally found gun controls—on the yoke, of all places—and tried them out. Her eyes widened as a shot actually connected, shearing off a bit of thermal shielding that looked rather like a wing. Suddenly, she was laughing, too, and as the exercise became a game in her mind, she relaxed and allowed her skill to improve. It took some practice to learn where the ship on the screen was vulnerable, and which of the several weapons Dance had available. She tried them all, of course, just to see what they did, and occasionally was rewarded with a grudging, "Good choice," from Dance, or a glittery sparkle from the ship itself, indicating an actual hit. She learned to loathe the broad, curving flash that meant she had only skinned the enemy's shields.

  It was over in a minute or two. The "enemy" was no more than debris littering the view screen. Even so, Dance kept the scenario running, easing carefully through the garbage. Jesse kept an eye on the readouts, absorbing the tiny shifts in heading and learning how they corresponded to how the ship moved. After a few moments, she took the controls on Dance's suggestion and continued their slow progress through the debris field. Brief but unpleasant thuds and vibrations marked her occasional miscalculations. When at last they cleared the field, she leaned back in the couch and sighed. "Not bad for your first time. However, had we had others behind us, the outcome would scarcely have been so positive. Perhaps you could move us through any future fields a bit more quickly. The same techniques will apply to asteroid fields, except that where such debris fields will generally be moving toward you until you pass the explosion site and away when once you have, asteroids may be moving in a similar pattern or they may be orbiting a larger body. Rarely, you may encounter both in the same field."

  "Why would I want to go through an asteroid belt? Wouldn't it make more sense to avoid such things?"

  "Ordinarily, yes. However, bear in mind that an asteroid belt can be a superb hiding place. Sensible people tend to avoid them."

  "Obviously, we are not sensible people, then. Well, what about the rest of it? How did I do?"

  "Abysmally, overall. However, again, it was your first battle, and you are still unfamiliar with the controls. Here." The view screen image changed to six views of the ship they had just obliterated. "This is a Denorian patrol skiff . There's not much to them, other than an immense sensor array. They have light weapons and only average shielding. Most are unmanned reconnaissance vessels, and will only fight as a last resort for survival. The danger of encountering one is that these ships report everything of interest. The Denorians have managed to double their communications speed, even in deep space, so you have very little time to disable the communications array before it summons support vessels. This, then—" Dance paused to light the same position on all six images, "is your primary target for this vessel. Due to its purpose, it is unwise to leave any portion of the ship intact. Once it stops reporting, its parent ship or base will investigate, and it is best to leave them with no explanation as to the nature of the craft's demise."

  "So, that being the case, why did we navigate through the debris, instead of working on a quicker escape? Like a jump?"

  "In some cases, such a maneuver would be appropriate, if dangerous. In this case, we were already into the debris field before the battle concluded. Had we jumped, there was the strong possibility of pulling part of that with us. Besides, you needed the practice, and we were not in imminent danger. I scanned the debris for any active equipment, such as an emergency beacon. Besides, you aren't ready for jumps."

  Something nagged at the back of Jesse's mind about Dance's reply. She could not quite pin down what was wrong, however, and soon gave up, turning her attention back to the lessons. Jesse studied the configuration of the ship on the screen, touching the images to zoom in on different areas. Dance provided labels or explanations when such information seemed useful, until finally Jesse sat back down, having absorbed as much about Denorian patrol skiff s as she could for the moment.

  Dance did not always launch into flight simulation and gunnery lessons when Jesse was sleeping, but more often than not, the lessons did come at inopportune moments. Sometimes, the lessons included such things as using a loader to salvage cargo from the remains of lesson ships, when there was enough left. Dance was becoming exasperated with Jesse's zeal when it came to destroying enemies, and after three months finally voiced the irritation. Jesse was surprised. She had never given the situation any thought at all, never considered that there might be times when utterly obliterating an enemy was not the best course of action. She tried to tone down her excitement and leave a bit, except when Dance advised destroying a vessel. In time, she learned to recognize which she should leave intact and which she should destroy quickly.

  In general, Dance tried to avoid allowing Jesse much idle time, and in general, it worked. Jesse was either too busy or too tired to notice most of the things Dance wanted her not to notice. In the months they had travelled together, Jesse had never mentioned Darien again after that first week. She had even stopped avoiding looking at the tube where he lay, indicating that she seldom gave it thought anymore. For Dance, that was the best possible situation, since she had been maintaining the young man in near-suspended animation while she gradually healed his wounds. He was almost healed, and keeping him suspended was almost becoming dangerous in itself. Finally, she broached the subject with Jesse, to find out whether she had made the right choice in keeping him alive. Her reaction would determine all their fates. She chose an "evening" when Jesse had done particularly well on their last encounter and was tired from the adrenaline and in high spirits with the victory. It had been close. The freighter had them outgunned, and Dance had been genuinely worried, but Jesse's skill was nothing short of amazing now, and, in time, would be legendary. The salvage had been a good haul as well, and Jesse had done well in choosing what to take and what to abandon, making sound decisions based on markets and their precious hold space. She let the young woman watch the stars in silence for a while before beginning the conversation. "Jesse, I've not been totally honest with you."

  "And this is supposed to be news? I know that." Jesse rolled her eyes. Dance paused to analyze the tone and decided it was close to their normal banter and Jesse's frequent sarcasm, except for the edge she could detect in her young friend's voice
. Fear, or at least unease.

  "Don't make this more difficult, please." Dance thought she probably deserved the derisive snort that request brought from her human companion, but she plunged on.

  "I didn't help your brother in those first thirty-six hours because it was illegal. I did not precisely help either of you, if you'll recall. And before you start, yes. I choose which laws to break where. But that one, that's a big one. Violation can get me grounded permanently, anywhere, and I won't take the chance for someone unproven, someone I don't know. So, I put him on support and suspended him. Froze him, if you will."

  "You . . . what?"

  "I kept him alive. When it seemed that things would work out, I began tending to him. Now he has nearly healed, but there is little more I can do. He needs to be on a planet or, at the very least, on a station with Earthstandard gravity. While I can provide that for short periods, and even have the equipment he needs to rebuild muscle tone and bone density, it is a long-term expenditure we cannot afford."

  "Darien's alive. I haven't even looked at him in months." Dance gave her a moment to process the news.

  "I want to ask how you could do this, if there were any shred of humanity left in you. There isn't, is there? And that's how you can justify this?"

  "I could have killed him. I should have, in fact, for our safety and your mental health. There was no certainty in my actions. I took a very large risk in what I did, and no, there were no altruistic motives at the time. As I came to know you, I thought perhaps I had made a good choice, since you seemed to have a deep sibling bond with him. My initial choice, however, was financial. Upon identifying the two of you, and having already committed a grave error in judgment in bringing you aboard, it seemed prudent to continue and at least have some monetary gain to show for the risk. Which brings us to where we are now."

  "Wait. Monetary gain? What monetary gain?"

  "His ransom. I propose that we send a message, suggest a suitable ransom, and drop him off at the nearest port when we receive the funds."

  "That . . . that is just sick. You saved my brother's life merely to use him as a game piece?" Jesse wanted to be enraged, but to her, Darien had been dead for the better part of a year. She had grieved and moved on. Dance noted the lack of conviction in her partner's voice, but did not take it for granted. They were not out of danger yet.

  "Yes. I did the same to you. You were useful to me, both of you, in different ways. Now he has become a dangerous liability, and I like to think you've become a friend and partner. I have a dilemma, and I need your help."

  "Didn't you once tell me you could manage just fine on your own? Why do you need my help, and what makes you think I'd be willing to help you, after you kept this from me for almost a year? Didn't it occur to you that just maybe I deserved to know what was going on? What I was being dragged into?"

  "Oh, I'm reasonably sure you still don't know the latter. As for the former, I thought it best that you believed him dead. I thought it would be easier for you. I am sorry for this error in judgment."

  "Error in—"

  "Unfortunately," Dance interrupted smoothly before Jesse could register further protest, "even as advanced as I am, I cannot change what has been done. While I anticipate further discussion of the topic, or at least harbor some hope for it, the situation demands timely resolution, and for that, I require your input." Jesse laughed bitterly.

  "Require my input? Is that how you deal with fucked-up situations? You retreat to your formal programmed-sounding language to impress me? And, once again, you have evaded a direct question. Why do you need me to help you at all?"

  For a moment, Dance remained silent. "Because although I could resolve this easily myself, and will if I must, I hope that we have become friends, and that it is strong enough to get us through this." Dance paused again, then resumed quietly. "I want us to be friends. I made a potentially inaccurate assessment of the situation, and you were hurt by it, and for that, I am sorry." Jesse seethed in silence, and Dance continued. "Darien is at the apex of the conditioning that I can provide. He needs physical therapy in a setting that is possible here with our present resources for only six standard days. It is not enough. His bones will begin to disintegrate and his muscles will begin to atrophy, and I cannot stop that. I must return him somewhere more appropriate, or he must be euthanized. I will not allow him to suffer. I confess that I have difficulty with that choice, but only because I have grown to love you."

  "Why consult me now? Why not just off -load him at a spaceport somewhere for interment without ever telling me he was still alive? You could have your ransom and your tractable little pilot, with minimal fuss and effort."

  "Because one does not treat one's friends that way. Because it would not undo what you perceive as a wrong done you. Did I consider it? Of course. I am pragmatic. I am trying to be something more."

  Dance could sense Jesse's frustration, despite her stillness or perhaps because of it. She could not recall a time when she had felt more helpless. Finally, Jesse spoke again. Her voice had a soft, resigned tone that made Dance ache. "What do you need from me?"

  "Would Darien be a good senator?"

  "Yes. He didn't really want to, not then. He was born for it, trained for it, thinks like a senator most of the time. Yes, he would be good at it."

  "It stands to reason then, that the logical thing to do is, in fact, to return him. Do you want to go with him?"

  "What?" Jesse sounded stunned. "You would let me walk off this ship, knowing what I know about you?"

  "No. Neither of you would be permitted to retain memory of what has happened, or who or where I might be. But yes, I would allow you to go." Jesse sighed and spun the pilot's couch to look at the medical facilities and more specifically, at the tube containing her brother. Her fingers steepled together and she idly tapped her chin with them, lost in thought. With emotion pushed firmly out of the way for a moment, she realized that the situation really had not changed. Darien was dead to her, regardless, and she had been party to his kidnapping. She could scarcely expect a hero's welcome. Life aboard Stardance was not bad at all, and the independence was nothing short of exhilarating. After a few moments, she sat up a bit more. "So, how much was the ransom?"

  If Dance could have blushed, she would have, and the chagrined tone of her reply almost made Jesse laugh aloud. "Seventeen thousand, five hundred standard marks. It's not exorbitant, but it is enough to resupply and refit for the next twelve months."

  "So much for pragmatic. He's worth at least twice that. The next time we kidnap a diplomat, let me set the ransom, yes?"

  "Perhaps. I will accept that as meaning you wish to stay aboard."

  "You're not forgiven, but yes, I will stay."

  Jesse had forgotten how noisy places of human habitation were. She flinched at the shouts and cowered within the protective robes that Dance had procured for her. Darien leaned on her like a drunk, and she had to pause often to catch her breath and let him rest. His limp was barely noticeable, and in time would work itself out. His memory, including a planted but otherwise very vivid one of Karenya's death, would come back in time, as would his physical strength. Jesse had to admire Dance's medical expertise.

  With Jesse's assistance, Darien slid into the booth at the pub. She ordered food for him—a light breakfast—and paid for it from an untraceable account. She hesitated, then leaned to kiss his brow.

  "Take care of yourself. I hope I never have to see you again."

  With that, Jesse slipped away so that she would not hear any reply he might make. The jog back to the docks seemed long and harrowing, despite Dance's assurances that no one here would recognize her. She found that she had come to dislike physical contact with strangers even more than she had before this adventure began, and she shuddered with each accidental bump and intentional grope. She was relieved to throw herself into the pilot's couch once more and set about the familiar task of guiding the ship out of the docking bay.

  Once Stardance was in open sp
ace and moving unobtrusively alongside the major shipping lane, Jesse leaned back in the couch, watching the stars slide by and the starport dwindle. A host of emotions warred in her, and Dance let her have her silence, knowing that she was still on unstable emotional ground with her human partner. Hours later, once Jesse had gained control of the urge to crow about their success, she finally broke the silence.

  "I've noticed that we avoid major trade ports. As in, you're plotting courses that take us well away from all of them. Why? Wouldn't we find better markets for what's in the bays there? And better cargos for other ports?"

  "Because what we do is not strictly legal in most star systems—"

  "No? Kidnapping isn't legal? Who would have thought that?"

  "—and is outright illegal in many. We might find better markets, but we might not. As for better cargos, you might have noticed that we are somewhat limited in physical space. Merchant companies can afford to ship normal goods at a lower cost than we can, so there is little point in competing for that trade. There are ports where authorities and other assorted unpleasant folk know us, and ports where they do not. We will stay with the ones where we are either unknown, or are welcome."

  When Dance finished, Jesse was silent for a moment, working through the various nuances and things her partner left unsaid. "All this time, I've been a pirate?"

  "No," Dance responded in that infuriating, rational tone, "all this time I have been a pirate. You have been a captive who happened to serve my needs, until now."

  "And what am I now?"

  "A pirate."

  "You should have told me the truth."

  She was sulking again. Dance found it amusing and made no effort, this time, to hide her laughter or spare Jesse's feelings. "To what end? Would you have me endanger your well-being, as well as my own freedom, all for some misguided social construct that is more than a millennium out of date? Hardly. I ran all of the appropriate calculations and scenarios. You couldn't handle the truth."