The Star Pirate's Folly

by James Hanlon

  “How are your wife and children?” Gim asked, confident that speaking of his much-loved family would brighten the Governor’s mood. His conversational guidelines indicated that, rather than asking a simple yes-or-no question, it was much more beneficial to ask open-ended questions which provoked a better response.

  “My family is away at the moment,” he said. “I’ve sent them far from the planet. It's unsafe.”

  An unexpected answer—it did, however, explain his mood.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Governor.”

  “Yes. It’s a regrettable set of circumstances we’re in, my biofabricated friend.”

  Gim frowned. “There must be something I am unaware of.”

  “Yes,” the Governor said. “There’s a great deal of things you are unaware of. Tell me something. If I instruct you to keep our conversations secret, can you?”

  “Of course. My social protocol allows for confidentiality. In fact, if you told me to I could encrypt anything we’ve spoken about. Absolutely no record of it would remain in my memory. Fabricants are very good at keeping secrets.”

  “How wonderful. You were designed with such consideration.”

  Gim smiled. “We’re here to be helpful in any way we can.”

  “And say some nefarious agent were to set his mind on gaining access to some of this sensitive information? What sort of countermeasures do you have?”

  “A successful intrusion attempt would require extremely advanced knowledge of fabricant security infrastructure. The cryptographers at BioLock, my manufacturer, consider our defenses essentially hack-proof. If you require I can go into further technical detail.”

  The Governor skewered a sausage and dabbed his egg’s yolk with one end, releasing a wave of yellow-gold that crept slowly toward his last sausage. He shook his head unhappily as he took a bite.

  “Well, I suppose if the good folks at BioLock say so it must be true. In that case, I request that all of our private conversations be kept private, full security measures and whatnot.”

  “Of course, Governor Strump.”

  Strump prodded quietly at the yolk with the other end of the sausage, then dropped his fork on the plate with a huff. “I’ve sent my family away because they’re in danger. We all are. I’m sure you’ve heard about our recent sweep through the pirate sector of the asteroid belt.”

  “News sources indicate the campaign ended with a complete rout of the pirate fleet.”

  The Governor nodded, sipping at his tea. “It very nearly was.”

  “So what is the great threat?”

  He started to put the cup down, then brought it back to his lips for another sip, seeming to use the moment to collect his thoughts.

  “The battle was a farce. Our ships barely engaged. It was mostly infighting between the pirates, a power struggle between the old leadership and an upstart calling himself ‘the Starhawk.’” Strump couldn’t help but make mocking air quotes with his fingers. “The old guard was content to stick to the belt and raid the shipping lanes, skimming a fat comfortable profit from interplanetary trade; Starhawk gained power by calling for strikes at the cities themselves, expanding their territory. His forces baited ours into engaging the main pirate fleet, but he cut and run once the battle started. He’s got a fleet about a fifth the size of the previous pirate coalition, and he claims they’re headed this way ahead of our returning fleet.”

  “Can anything be done?”

  “A brain aneurysm could strike Starhawk at this very moment and bring all of this to a sudden and peaceful halt.”

  “There is a very small chance of that happening, sir.”

  “Yes, I understand that, Gim. Terrible time to joke, but I was only kidding. Mostly. Anyway, Starhawk has told me he never wanted to actually strike at the Core—he only convinced the pirates to follow him out here because he’s told them we have the coordinates to the vast buried treasure hoard of a dead pirate named Dreadstar—a map of sorts. He’s told me if we give up the map he’ll leave our city alone.”

  “You've spoken to him?”

  “He's called me. Hacked through my pad, I couldn't even turn it off. He threatened to raid the planet if we don't give up the map, but he says they'll leave us alone if we give it up.”

  “And this map—is there any truth to it?”

  “It’s authentic.”

  “Historically speaking, I must advise you that such promises are rarely kept,” Gim said.

  “Yes, Gim. I’m afraid you’re right.”

  “How will you proceed?”

  Strump chomped at a sausage link. “I’m going to run away. And you’re coming with me.”

  Gim allowed surprise to register on his face, but did not comment, studying the Governor as the man nonchalantly finished his meal, probing his face for answers. His manner and expression indicated that he was most likely withholding some piece of information which he planned to reveal for dramatic effect. It was actions such as these that puzzled Gim about the Governor—surely he must know that a fabricant would feel no sense of apprehension, no buildup of emotional tension. Was it purely for his own amusement?

  “We’re going to save the planet,” Strump said, breaking the silence. “I have the map under my control. I’ve already arranged an expedition and we’re going to go after the treasure before Starhawk does. By the time he gets to Surface we’ll be long gone with the map, and he’ll be forced to chase after us—away from the planet. Back to the belt. Back to our fleet.”

  “Where is the map?”

  “Waiting on our ship,” Strump said as he downed the dregs of his tea.

  Chapter 7: Periapsis

  Bee wasn’t sure what exactly to expect when she stepped into the transport room. The walls were bare steel, adorned only with friendly instructional messages indicating how to proceed. On the smooth floors, glowing lines created lanes for travelers to follow to the gate itself. On the wall opposite the airlock was a set of ceiling-height circular sliding doors—the gate itself.

  Behind Bee, the airlock door shut and the attendant Juanito sealed it from within. Apprehension gripped her. Was she doing this right? Were the doors just going to open up for her? She wished there were other travelers there with her. The room looked like it could easily hold a few hundred people, and its size spooked her into feeling small and fragile. She walked to the middle of the room and faced the gigantic sliding doors of the gate.

  A red scanning light flashed out of a lens recessed inside the gate’s upper frame. The lens winked green in confirmation when it got her eye, then began pulsing once per second, and each time the green light pulsed a rhythmic chime would sound. After ten seconds a louder chime rang out and the doors slid smoothly out of the way. On the other side was a room that looked exactly the same as the one she stood in. Was that it? She just walked through?

  Bee shifted her pack on her shoulder, a bit nervous. In just a few more steps she would be over two hundred miles above Surface, aboard Overlook Station which hung overhead in low planetary orbit. It just all seemed too easy. She was expecting something powerful, something that would rumble and shake. She hadn’t heard anything. Was wormhole travel really so simple? Maybe that’s why she didn’t remember the trips—to a child it would be just like walking through another room on the station, and then you’re on Surface. She probably wouldn’t have even noticed.

  “Miss, you can proceed, please,” came a hesitant voice over the intercom. It was Juanito. His timid words jolted her from her thoughts and she stepped forward.

  “Sorry,” Bee said.

  She walked through the archway with her head down, and although she knew it was perfectly safe she felt a distinct chill as she entered the gate. She brought her shoulders in as though she was afraid to brush the sides of the gate despite the size of the entrance. The fear passed as soon as she got into the other room, but she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. It was stupid, she knew. Just irrational panic.

  Still, she grabbed the straps of her pack and
pulled them tight against her shoulders as she walked to the airlock. The sound of the gate’s doors sliding shut behind her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She toed the thick red line that marked the area in which the airlock door would swing open, as far from the gate as she could get.

  As Bee stood in front of the airlock the chiming started again, and she counted as it went all the way up to ten. She read the words WAIT BEHIND LINE FOR ATTENDANT in white letters against a red background on the airlock door. She just wanted to be out of the room. The feeling grew in her chest, clawing its way up her throat until she realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled as the louder “all clear” chime rang out, and the attendant on the other side swung open the airlock door. Bee drew in a deep breath through her nose. She was not going to enjoy the return trip.

  “Welcome aboard,” the female attendant said as she carefully opened the door and secured it against the wall. “All by yourself?”

  “Yeah,” Bee said, and walked past the woman into the airlock.

  The attendant pulled shut the door behind Bee before moving to the other end of the airlock to open the outer door. At last the woman pushed open the final barrier between Bee and freedom and beckoned for her to come out.

  “Thanks,” Bee said.

  “My pleasure,” the attendant replied as she shut the door.

  And just like that Bee found herself standing in another vault-like room of airlocks aboard Overlook Station—her old home, not that she remembered much about it. There was something familiar about the air, though. It was scrubbed, filtered. Devoid of any particular odor. It wasn’t like the air of the city with its mixture of different, sometimes disgusting, scents mingling together. Up in the station it was sterile. Nostalgia gripped her momentarily as connections sparked between her memories. She shook the feeling as best as she could and headed to the exit hallway.

  Bee stopped to examine a chart on the wall and found dock B46. It was close. As she walked the hallways a fit young couple passed her in a hurry—they must have come up right behind her. The woman was dressed provocatively in sheer garments that left little to the imagination. The man kept looking around like he might catch someone eyeing up his mate. He walked close to her, and kept reaching out to touch her as though she might drift away.

  Bee turned around a corner the opposite way the couple had gone. The docking bays for Section B were just up ahead. Soon she’d have the other half of her payment and she could go back to Hargrove and tell him the good news. He probably wouldn’t be happy at the circumstances through which she had acquired the money, but her only other option was waiting for a few more years and scraping together whatever she could until she finally had enough to buy a ticket to one of the settlements in the belt.

  Once she was out there she could really start her hunt. Trawling the bounty boards was keeping her mind at ease—it was really the most she could do—but Bee knew her best chance of finding him was to actually get out there and look for him. With as much money as she had she might even be able to hire a real bounty hunter to help her.

  Bee arrived at the docking area, where the hallway ended in a T-junction. The wall in front of her had a series of small round windows at about eye level, with some signs between the windows pointed left for docks 1-25 and right for docks 26-50. She took a right, gazing out the windows as she passed them. Ships were parked outside, attached to the station’s airlocks by docking pods. She watched as several of them retracted their pods and, synchronized by the station’s autopilot program, glided smoothly into a line together and departed the station. They were most likely headed to one of the nearby orbital launching platforms for interplanetary travel.

  Continuing down the hall and around a corner, Bee saw the sign for B46 several airlocks ahead on the right. Next to each door was a screen with a built in scanning lens. Bee stood in front of the airlock and waited for the scanner to flash her with its red beams. Nothing happened. She wondered briefly if she was supposed to open it manually, like the attendants had before, but then Bill Silver’s face popped up on the screen.

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll let you in.”

  Silver opened the airlock and squeezed off to one side of the entrance, waving her inside. He was taller than Bee thought he would be, and without his apron his protruding gut was exposed. Bee slipped past him, close enough to walk through the clean, vaguely masculine scent of his body wash or cologne.

  The docking pod curved to the right, and she saw the inner airlock had been left open. She boarded the ship as Silver closed the outer door behind her. His metal hand clicked against the wheel as he spun it. The cockpit was to her right, and the body of the ship to the left. It was just a short range shuttle. She stood just inside and waited for Silver, who hurried past her.

  “Just wait here, you won’t be staying long. I’ll get a pad to send your money,” he said.

  Bee nodded and stayed where she was. Just as he disappeared around the corner, a buzzer sounded from the airlock and a projection window popped up. It showed a suave clean-shaven blond man, maybe forty, dressed in a sleek olive green business suit. He seemed agitated, wringing his hands together and glancing around. He was accompanied by a thin-framed teenage boy dressed in a similar style who stood with his back straight and stared ahead with a blank expression.

  “Bill!” the man shout-whispered, pounding on the airlock door. “I know you’re in there. Come on, you gotta let me in Bill!”

  “Hang on, I’ll get it,” called Bill from down the hall.

  Bee held a finger against the display and said, “Just a minute.”

  “They could be right behind me, we don’t—” The man began, then realized he wasn’t talking to Bill.

  His head cocked in what seemed an involuntary twitch of romantic interest and his eyes darted across her face. Bee released the button and the screen out in the hall went dark. The man outside turned to his companion to whisper something in his ear, and the two held a hushed conversation.

  “I told you to leave it alone,” Silver said from behind her. “I’ve sent your money, see?”

  Bee turned and looked over the information on the pad he was holding, and it seemed to her that he genuinely had followed up with his second five thousand credit payment. Silver gave her the pad and moved to the airlock to answer the buzzer.

  “If you want to double check you can sign in to your own—” He faltered when he saw who was on the other end of the airlock. He touched the display and spoke. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

  “There’s been a change of plans, Bill. We’ve got to leave.”

  “What, now?” Silver said.

  “Yes, now! Let’s go, do we have everything?”

  Silver released the button, ending the call, and turned to Bee. “The map?”

  Then it clicked—the guy’s face. Bee hadn’t recognized him at first, but she couldn’t believe she had missed it. She’d seen his campaign ads.

  “Is that… Governor Strump?” Bee said as she dug Slack Dog’s pad out of her pocket. She handed it to Silver, who snatched it from her with his good hand.

  Silver ignored her as he began to open the airlock door. “You're leaving now.”

  “Wait, what was he saying? That’s the Governor, isn’t it?” Bee’s questions came tumbling out of her mouth as she followed Silver through the airlock, but he said nothing as he opened the outer door.

  “Took you long enough, Bill,” the man said as he and his companion came inside.

  “You were supposed to meet me at the launching platform,” Bill said. “What happened?”

  “Are we ready to go?” he asked, ignoring Bill’s question.

  “We can be at the platform in twenty minutes.”

  “Then let’s go. Why don’t you say goodbye to your friend and we can discuss things while we depart. Come, Gim,” he said, and walked inside the ship with the boy Gim in tow.

  “We’re not friends,” growled Bill. He gestured with a hurried wave for B
ee to exit the airlock so he could close the door.

  Silver had what he needed from her, and he was urgent to leave. Bee could safely assume there was someone after the map—and maybe after her. What if they knew she had been carrying it? She could have been seen going into Silver’s ship.

  “You waiting for a tip or something?” Bill said, gesturing again to the door.

  “No, I just... do I have anything to worry about?” asked Bee, tilting her head in the direction the Governor had just gone. “He said—”

  “Not if you keep your mouth shut and your head down. Now beat it.”

  “Look, if someone’s after him they might come for me too. You can’t just throw me back out there without telling me anything.”

  “Oh, don’t go all doe-eyed on me. I paid you already—and a damn lot, I’ll add—which concludes our business. Just go home and you’ll be fine.”

  Bee narrowed her eyes. “Where exactly did that map come from?”

  “Never mind, girl, just get off my damn ship!” He took a step forward to force her back.

  Silver was a powerful man, and she saw genuine anger on his face. The metal hand looked like it could do some damage. She flinched and backed away when he came forward, stumbling out of the airlock. Silver wasted no time securing the door, leaving Bee alone in the hallway.

  Chapter 8: Orpheus

  Bill slammed the airlock shut and locked it. He knew the girl was going to be a clinger, he could see it in her eyes. Dirtbound folks like her all had the same romanticized ideas about space travel. He could bet she’d been stuck in that miserable excuse for a civilized city her whole life. She probably just wanted to escape Surface and get out there, anywhere.

  Well no way was she coming with them. Simplicity was the key. The girl was trouble; it was best that they get rid of her now. She would be fine, all she had to do was get back home—and anyway, he had enough to deal with. Bill loathed accommodating passengers of any sort, never mind a head of state.