The Star Pirate's Folly

by James Hanlon

  “You have to remember at all times in nullo that you’re human. Your brain’s used to having two feet planted on the ground and it’ll rail against you for changing that. Your mind needs conditioning as much as your body.”

  He lifted his bare left hand, revealing a lens only millimeters across implanted in his skin. It projected a hardlight screen into which he tapped several commands, and the nullroom plunged into darkness. Spud’s container back near the entrance spilled a reassuring glow, but Bee couldn’t see the walls anymore.

  “Lesson number one,” the Captain said. “Space is big. You literally cannot imagine the amount of emptiness out there. When you’re in vacuum you are always alone. Always. People who can’t remember that get dead quick.”

  Captain Anson tapped on the screen again and a green glow enveloped them. The walls and ceiling emitted the same light.

  “This shows the field of effect the gravity plates have. There’s a one-g pull everywhere you see green. In the center of the room there’s none, which brings us to lesson two: if you jump high enough….”

  He crouched then sprang off the floor with both legs and thrust his arms toward the ceiling. He sailed up past the green glow and spun his body in midair, then rebounded off the ceiling and repeated the twist again to land where he started.

  “… you just keep going,” he finished. “So be careful.”

  “Well I don’t want to do flips or anything, I just wanted somewhere to run,” Bee said.

  “I’m offering to teach you. I can guarantee you’ll get more exercise out of a basic zero-gravity training regimen than you would from just running. We can start slow.”

  “I like running,” Bee said with finality.

  The Captain shrugged and walked away, ticking orders into his hardlight screen. The green glow vanished and the normal lights returned. “Suit yourself.”

  Bee started her routine, stretching her legs and especially her back—the mattress she’d slept on was thinner than she was used to. Not as bad as some places she’d been, but compared to the comfort of her hotel room it was sorely lacking. She jogged to the wall farthest from the entrance, as close to alone as she could get.

  There were two railed ramps at each corner of the floor that seemed to lead nowhere, just a forty-five-degree angle from the floor to the wall. Curious, she approached the ramp and grabbed the waist-high rail, stepping onto the steep incline. She felt a slight lurch in her stomach as she tried to take another step and clutched at the rail with her other hand, pulling herself toward it.

  Her perspective felt off, and her brain screamed at her that she was falling—yet she stood straight up. The rest of the room was crooked, and the ramp she was standing on was a level surface. From where she was standing at the bottom of the ramp she could reach out and touch the floor, but she could feel herself being pulled that way and snatched her hand back.

  Bee walked further up the ramp, her stomach fluttering as she adjusted to the new perspective. She looked over at Spud’s container where the Captain leaned against the wall chatting with the armor-plated gorilla of a man as he reclined in his impossibly supportive hammock.

  She considered trying to continue up to the wall, but the thought of falling from that high brought her back to the nullroom floor. For a moment the perspective shift dizzied her and she wobbled a bit as she took her first steps. That would take some getting used to. She began running laps from wall to wall near the two ramps. Condition your mind, Captain Anson had said. It was a start.

  Just as she was getting winded Bee noticed the Captain and Spud talking to another person in an undersuit she didn’t recognize. She slowed to walking speed to get a better look while she caught her breath. The newcomer was a slender whip of a man, as tall as Spud but lanky, with brown skin and close-cropped black hair. From her distance it was hard to tell how old he was, but he looked much younger than the Captain.

  Captain Anson went inside Spud’s container, closely followed by Spud himself, and emerged with a black fabric bag. From it he pulled a small metal ball which he threw into the center of the nullroom. It spun in the air, glinting, and then took on a life of its own, curving to avoid the walls. Spud in his bulky armor grabbed for the bag and the Captain whirled on him with some sharp words she couldn’t hear, pointing to the container. Spud’s shoulders dropped and he stomped to his room shouting obscenities.

  Bee laughed at the exchange—the Captain looked dwarfish next to his towering crewmen, but it was clear who was in charge. He produced maybe a dozen more of the little metal spheres and threw the rest of them with the same results as the first, each whirling along its own orbit. The Captain’s personal screen flashed open. Moments later the spheres turned into holographic spaceships, half of them emblazoned with blue markings and half with red. They swooped into formation with each other, the blues on Bee’s side of the room and the reds on the opposite.

  The Captain noticed her watching and waved her over. She walked toward them to see what he wanted, and he tilted his head toward the tall stranger beside him.

  “Bee, this is First Officer Truly. Truly, this is Bee. She and the Governor are our passengers until we reach Optima.”

  Truly nodded and shook hands with her. “Good to meet you.”

  His voice was low and smooth. The black undersuit covered his hands and feet as opposed to the Captain’s which left them exposed. The material was cool to the touch and silky smooth, but also thick enough to provide some protection. She felt grippy pads on Truly’s palm and fingers.

  “We’re about to run a match,” the Captain said. “You want to watch? Truly’s been in cryo for a while, so he’s about to get spanked by an old man. Should be fun to see.”

  “Sure,” she said, taking a seat near the center of the room.

  Truly smiled with confidence and walked to a row of lockers nearby, where he pulled out the legs of an armored slate gray nullsuit with orange stripes across the waist, knees, and ankles. The way he held the armor with one hand made her wonder how much it weighed. What protection could it provide if it was light enough to be picked up like that? Truly slipped into the “pants” and from the locker produced boots, torso, arms, gloves, and helmet, equipping each piece as it came out until he was fully suited.

  The suit’s joints and neck were marked by the orange stripes—Bee guessed the whole thing could detach from those points. Truly was even taller in the suit, and with the added bulk he looked fearsome as he flexed and stretched to test the seals. He looked down at her from inside his helmet and winked, then vaulted off the floor into the center of the nullroom, soaring through the air like a diver.

  Truly reached his hand toward the wall behind him, palm open, and a beam of jade light lanced from the gravity tether in his glove to the wall. He pulled on the beam as though it were a rope, adjusting his position several more times using the other walls until he hung motionless in the air behind the red ships’ formation.

  Another green beam streaked out and the Captain pulled himself over to the blue formation of ships. Bee hadn’t noticed him suiting up, but he wore an armored suit similar to Truly’s—black armor with white stripes over the joints. Both of them commanded a fleet of five ships.

  “Myra, you’re referee,” called the Captain. “Last man standing.”

  In response the lights went out. A green bar appeared over both opponents’ heads and each ship, displaying full meters of health. A timer with five seconds popped up between the two and started counting down. At zero, both teams launched into action.

  Three of Captain Anson’s five blue ships clustered into a defensive stance in front of him while the other two zoomed off together toward Truly’s fleet. Truly sent three of his red ships to engage the Captain’s offensive strike while he and his remaining two ships advanced upon the Captain, pulling himself along using the ships as anchor points for his tether. Truly’s three exchanged a barrage of laser fire with the Captain’s two strike ships, focusing fire on one and quickly erasing its health bar.
The hologram vanished and the metal ball at its core tumbled to the nullroom floor. The score updated to five-four in Truly’s favor.

  The remaining blue ship from the Captain’s offensive strike dodged away from the beams of Truly’s three red ships while the Captain pulled himself away from Truly’s advance. The lone blue ship rejoined with the Captain, and he sent all four of his remaining ships straight toward Truly and his two defensive craft. Truly immediately threw his hands behind him to pull himself into a retreat, and the Captain revealed his feint, pulling his four ships back to swarm the three that had taken out his first lost point.

  Truly moved to defend his outnumbered fleet, but two of his ships were already down. Four-three to the Captain. The four blue ships mopped up the last of the three they’d engaged and turned their attention to Truly himself, buzzing around him with stinging lasers. He led the Captain’s fleet on a desperate chase with the last two of his red fleet, weaving and flying all over the room, even managing to whittle down the blue fleet to just three—but the Captain clinched the victory with a cautious, persistent pursuit. The final score read three-zero.

  ***

  After another two rounds the lights came back on and both armored combatants descended to the nullroom floor. The room was littered with silver metal spheres, and the two used their suits’ palm-mounted tethers to pick them all up. The Captain tossed them into the bag and brought them all back to Spud’s container before making his way to his locker. Truly had already started disassembling his suit.

  Bee approached them as they removed their armor.

  “Change your mind yet?” Anson asked.

  “Can you teach me sometime?”

  Captain Anson opened a locker and pulled out a crumpled ball of stiff white material from the bottom. When he unfurled it Bee saw it was an unarmored nullsuit wrapped around a helmet. Its limbs were folded and twisted, misshapen by hard creases, but as the Captain shook the suit out its wrinkles smoothed.

  “This one’s pretty old, but it should fit you,” the Captain said as he held the suit by its shoulders, offering it to Bee. “It’s only a nullsteel weave, not armor plated like ours, but it’ll keep you from hurting yourself. Consider it a loaner—and you’ll probably want to clean it up first.”

  Chapter 16: Rubble

  “So Lee got himself killed,” Starhawk said. “And by a civilian! He’s a disgrace to all of us.”

  “What’s next?” Zeeda asked.

  Starhawk mulled the question as the two watched a live feed of his fallen carrier Red Shade streaking toward Overlook City. She billowed fire and smoke. Most of the layers of nullsteel wrapping her hull had already boiled away in the atmosphere, and with the ship’s guts exposed to the pull of Surface she plummeted without hope of recovery.

  She wasn’t built for atmospheric flight—no true starship could travel at speed without nullsteel covering every exposed surface, but the stuff didn’t hold up against heat and friction. Red Shade fought to maintain her collision course, straining against the might of gravity. As long as she held her angle of descent the massive inferno of wreckage would hit its target.

  Pilots attempted to deploy from Red Shade’s bays but either crashed trying to take off or got perforated by flak once they were airborne. The crew had already launched all of its escape pods, some of which were damaged, raining in the carrier’s wake along with debris that peeled off during entry. Those left aboard the ship were dying, dead, or soon to be.

  “We can’t stay. The Fleet’s right on our heels and their orbital guns are almost in range. We don’t have the map, but we can’t stay.” Starhawk opened the comms to his officers. “Any of you grubs got boots on the ground?”

  Flak cannons from Overlook City targeted the escape pods and aircraft while heavier projectiles shredded what was left of Red Shade’s hull. She lost power and tumbled in complete free fall. Another salvo from the city had her crumbling to pieces. The remains of the ship plowed into the forested hills south of the city, far short of causing any damage to the dome. Escape pods and debris peppered the area with smaller impacts.

  Captain Gruce responded with shrill panic in his voice. “Got a squad of three armors with me, uh, two miles from the south side of the dome. Lost a lot of grubs, boss. What about extraction?”

  “You get me that map and we’ll talk about extraction,” Starhawk said. “Jensen Lee’s dead. The map’s saved to his suit. It’s still got tracking—Zeeda, give him a beacon.”

  Zeeda nodded and tapped some commands into her console, pinging the location of Jensen Lee’s nullsuit for Gruce. The marker blinked in the center of the city.

  “Can we get some air support?” Gruce pleaded.

  “I’ll make you a front door. Just get to the dome.”

  ***

  Only hours had passed since the story about Jensen Lee broke, but that was the third recruitment call he’d gotten. He should never have talked to that damn reporter. It seemed every privateer outfit in the city somehow had his personal contact information—and they all wanted Hargrove the humble pirate killer to be their poster boy.

  He was no fighter. What he did went completely against his nature, against everything he believed in. He never wanted to kill anyone. Maybe Lee deserved it, but Hargrove felt queasy thinking about the way the helmet felt in his grip as it bludgeoned bone and skin. He shuddered with revulsion.

  After city emergency workers rescued Hargrove and the other evacuees from the collapsed tunnel, armored police officers quickly ushered them to a high-security bombardment shelter deep beneath the city. Hargrove’s sudden celebrity status landed him in a room of his own—the officers separated him from the other evacuees, marched him into the room, and locked him in. They said it was for his protection, ignoring his protests.

  Hargrove just wanted to find Bee. He’d checked for her name in the evacuee roster, and reported her missing after finding nothing, but she was only one among hundreds of others lost in the chaos. If she was there she would have shown up, but none of the shelters had her on record. She had to be in the city somewhere.

  He knew she used to live on the streets—maybe she thought there was somewhere better for her to hide, some safe place. Or maybe she went back to the hotel after Hargrove left. Needles of doubt stabbed at his conscience. He couldn’t have stayed behind. If it came to bombardment the dome would never hold, and he wouldn’t do her any good buried in rubble.

  If Bee was left behind he could bet others were still up there too. If not other civilians, at least some city workers and guards would have to keep certain things running. The network was obviously still managing calls. Maybe someone up there would find her and help her.

  Maybe. Hargrove didn’t leave things to chance. He checked the time on his pad. A sergeant was supposed to meet him ten minutes ago to discuss his release. Hargrove had made it clear he wanted to be moved with the other evacuees immediately, but the officer guarding his room insisted he was ordered to keep him from leaving.

  Hargrove’s pad rang in his hand as he paced the empty holding room and he eagerly flicked the call open.

  “Bee?”

  “Is this Hargrove Levene?”

  A male voice, no image.

  “Yes,” Hargrove grunted. “Who’s this?”

  “I’m with the Volunteers. We’re a privateer outfit—”

  “I’m not interested thank you, goodbye.”

  “We’d like to accept your application,” the caller blurted.

  “What? I never applied for anything.”

  “Well, yes, but if you did we would be happy to accept—”

  Hargrove hung up and put the pad in his pocket. He knocked against the door, three loud thumps of his fist.

  “Excuse me!” Hargrove shouted. “You said your sergeant would be here ten minutes ago.”

  “I told you what he told me,” came the guard’s muffled reply.

  “I’m beginning to resent being held against my will like this.”

  “It’s for your own
protection. We didn’t know about Jensen Lee until he wanted us to—there could be others. Maybe even in the shelters. Until we know for sure, you’re staying here. It’s our job to protect you.”

  “I’m not afraid! Someone I know is missing and in real danger. I won’t sit inside here while she’s out there alone.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but—”

  “That’s enough! Let me out!” Hargrove pounded on the door with rapid strikes of his fist. “Let me go! I won’t be held here any longer!”

  He couldn’t hear the guard’s reply over the noise, so he let up for a moment and a new voice shouted orders with an edge of steel.

  “Step away from the door!”

  Hargrove backpedaled until he felt the wall. The door slid aside and a navy-uniformed police sergeant much less imposing than his voice conveyed walked in. He was barely five feet tall, with narrow shoulders carrying a head too large for his body. Round bulging eyes squinted fiercely up at Hargrove as the officer marched toward him.

  “I’m Sergeant Mallory. What do you want?”

  “Immediate release,” Hargrove said. “I have to go back to the city.”

  Hargrove was surprised at the confidence behind his words—he hadn’t decided what exactly his plan was, but he knew he needed to get out there.

  “You can’t. They’ve got artillery in orbit. Why do you think we’re all down here?”

  “I have to. Someone I know—she’s up there still.”

  “You can’t go up there. There are pirate escape pods crashing all around the city, not to mention the debris, and it’s only a matter of time until they breach the walls. She’s probably in one of the other shelters—”

  “She’s not in another damn shelter!” Hargrove yelled, furious at the officer’s dismissive tone. “I already reported her missing. I spoke to her just before the comet passed. She went for a walk and never came back. You have to believe me, she’s still up there somewhere. I can find her and bring her back here.”

  Sergeant Mallory gave Hargrove a dubious top-to-bottom appraisal before replying, “You’re an idiot.”