The Star Pirate's Folly

by James Hanlon

  Find him, Mother insisted.

  But she knew the choices she’d made were the best available to her at the time. She couldn’t have known then what she did now. And even if she had, what then? What could one eighteen-year-old do that a trained military defense force couldn’t?

  Kill him, Mother wailed. Her voice was getting louder, more desperate. She hadn’t been this persistent since the old days.

  Whatever the odds, Bee had to try.

  “I’m going back,” she said, but didn’t turn to face the others. The cratered planetoid loomed larger and larger as Wanderlust approached.

  “Come with us,” Captain Anson said.

  Bee whirled on the crew, snarling with sudden fury, “I’m going to kill him! You just try and stop me.”

  Pain flared in her right shoulder and elbow and Bee cried out. Truly had snatched her wrist and twisted it behind her back until it felt like her arm would snap out of place. He clamped his other hand around her upper arm to hold her still. She hadn’t even noticed him move.

  “I stopped you,” Truly said from behind her, close enough for his breath to tickle her hair against her ear. “Now you’re dead.”

  “Let me go!” Bee’s instincts kicked in and she tried to smack her head against his face. Truly jerked away and held her at arm’s length, agony once again blooming in her right shoulder.

  “You think Starhawk’s going to go easy on you?”

  “Truly,” warned the Captain, and the first officer released her.

  Bee clutched her throbbing shoulder and stormed off the bridge, tears blurring her vision. Myra called to her as she went but no one got in her way.

  “That was a mistake,” Bill Silver said.

  “She’ll die if she goes back,” the Captain said. “Or worse. You okay with that?”

  “She’s not yours to protect, Captain. You’re making her problems into our problems. It compromises us.”

  “I disagree. She’s smart, she’s got guts, and I think she’d make a good asset someday. Besides, Myra needs this—”

  “Oh, don’t start with her too. Myra’s got you threaded around her finger and you don’t even know it.”

  Captain Anson dropped his casual demeanor. “You’re out of line, Quartermaster.”

  Silver stood up straight, arms flat against his sides. “Permission to leave the bridge.”

  “Dismissed.”

  ***

  Myra was already waiting for Bee when she got to her room, speaking as she entered.

  “I’m sorry,” Myra said. “I’m only trying to help you.”

  “Get out,” Bee said. “I never asked you to talk to him.”

  “You’re not ready. We thought it would be safe to send you back by now, but the pirates have been more trouble than anyone could have predicted.”

  “He’ll get away. If I don’t go now he’ll escape somehow, he’ll get away and then I’ll never get the chance again.” Bee’s voice quavered as she put her fears into words.

  “Exactly—you get one shot. Make it the best shot you can take. Don’t waste your chance now. Come with us, let us train you. We can teach you the things you need to know.”

  “If I don’t kill him she’ll never stop,” Bee said.

  “Who won’t stop?”

  “Nothing. No one,” she said, immediately regretting letting her thoughts slip.

  “You talk in your sleep, you know,” Myra said.

  Silence.

  “Do you want to know what you say?”

  “I think I know already.”

  “Let us help you,” Myra said softly.

  “What if this is my only chance? What if this is where I choose wrong?”

  “Chin up, Buttercup,” Myra said. “I’m sure your mother would be very proud of everything you’ve done for her. Just take a look at where you are now after all that you’ve been through.”

  “She used to say that to me.”

  “Come with us, honey. It’s the best thing you can do. If you won’t say yes I’m going to walk you through every single scenario I’ve run for you to give you an idea of just how many of them end with you sucking vacuum.”

  “Which ones do I live in?”

  “None. Eventually you always die. I’ll outlast all of you, in fact.”

  “Thanks for that little nugget of morbidity, but you know what I meant. Are there any where I… you know, get him?”

  “None of those outcomes are possible if you go back now.”

  Bee’s stomach twisted in sickening knots as she wrestled with the decision. Her whole life this had been her goal. She dreamed of it often—that final cathartic moment when she had her hands wrapped around his neck and she could finally feel him die. She’d relish it, savor it, and drink deep every instant she could make him suffer before she killed him. If she had to wait a little longer to get there, so be it.

  The words wouldn’t come. She wanted to scream at Myra that she was going back. She wanted to rage and shout, to destroy something, to rail against the hand she’d been dealt, the unfair chaotic cruelty of the universe. But she stuffed those urges down deep, stoking the vengeful fire that burned deep inside her. Those flames would never fade.

  “I’ll do it,” Bee said, forcing the words from her lips. “I’ll go with you.”

  Bee curled up on her bed and slept for an hour until Myra came back and told her the crew was about to take the shuttle to Optima. She left her room for the docking bay to see them off, the decision to stay with Wanderlust still stinging fresh in her mind.

  Truly, fully armored in his gray and orange suit, stood outside the bulkhead door to the docking bay.

  “Hey, Trouble,” he said. “Sorry about your arm. I heard you’re staying though.”

  “I’m sure you’re thrilled,” Bee said.

  “You’re growing on me,” Truly said as he opened the door. “Like a tumor or a wart or something.”

  “Real funny,” she said as he stepped through. “Hey, when you get back I want to know more about the Families.”

  “You want to ride with us? I can tell you on the way. Captain said you should come with to see how we operate anyway.”

  “Yeah,” Bee said. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

  Chapter 22: Out

  Pluck finished welding the door shut, satisfied it would at least slow down a determined effort to break in. It wasn’t powerful enough to completely seal the door, but Pluck did as much as he could to carry out his captain’s orders. The blowtorch retracted itself into the armor on his right forearm.

  Pluck winced and put his hand over the hole in his leg as he glided away from the shelter’s entrance. He wasn’t putting any weight on it, but he’d run out of painkillers already and could feel the air passing through, a biting cold against his burned flesh. The laser bored a one-inch hole straight through the meat of his thigh but missed his vital bits, but Pluck lived on—if a few ounces lighter.

  Gruce had already checked the immediate area inside the door, but Pluck gave it another sweep. Empty except for several tables and chairs thrown haphazardly together in a corner, the room couldn’t hide much. Pluck twisted his helmet off, eager to see things with his own eyes instead of through the visor. He trusted his own senses better than the suit’s and he knew Lee preferred the same. Better to see as Jensen saw.

  Pluck inspected the room with keen eyes that scoured every detail. He quickly turned his attention to the group of tables and chairs, the only anomaly in the entryway. He lowered himself to the ground with his boots, taking care to land tenderly, and started separating everything. He turned tables over, checked them for drawers, but found nothing.

  As he stepped away from the tables he kicked something on the ground and heard the chime of metal against metal as it bounced across the floor. A blur was all he saw—when it stopped moving he lost it. Pluck dropped to his knees, forgetting his injury, and let out a strangled wail as the force sent shocks of agony into his leg.

  After several moments of frenzied groping he
felt it underneath his fingers. Carefully, Pluck picked it up. A ring? He couldn’t see it but as he turned it in his palm he noticed a shimmering in the air, a subtle bend in the light. Cloaking. Giddiness overtook Pluck as he realized what it was and opened the comms channel to Gruce.

  “I’ve found it, dearest. Come back and see.”

  “Found what?” Gruce asked.

  Pluck bared his teeth in a victorious smile. “One of Jensen’s rings.”

  Gruce, ecstatic at Pluck’s fortune, pumped a fist in the air and roared with laughter. “I knew it! Jensen always left himself a back door!”

  Two-Gut Gruce returned to his teammate, zooming through the shelter’s corridors. This was exactly the kind of out he’d been looking for. With Jensen’s rings they could escape the shelter—that must have been his backup plan. If Starhawk’s extraction failed Jensen would have to get out of the city somehow, and what better way than by making the enemy think he was still inside the shelter? Misdirect, evade, escape. Too bad he got stupid—things would have gone a lot smoother with Lee still alive.

  ***

  Clean and refreshed after a long shower, Hargrove dressed himself once more in the white Volunteer Core Militia jumpsuit. When he returned to the bedroom he found Robert626 sitting in front of the hotel room’s only screen.

  “Tower sent us down the video records they’ve got of Bee on the orbital station,” Robert626 said without turning. “I watched everything already.”

  “Show me.”

  Hargrove leaned over Robert626’s shoulder to see the screen. The camera angles changed as Bee progressed, hopping from shot to shot as she followed signs to the docking bays. It brought Hargrove great relief to see her alive even if it wasn’t in person.

  “She got up there just before we all realized what was happening with Orpheus. A few minutes later and they would have turned her away on Surface.”

  “Do you know anything else about Slack Dog?” Hargrove asked. “Bee told me he used to be a privateer captain.”

  “A fabrication,” Robert626 said. “He was neither a privateer nor a captain. His arrival at your hotel was his first time on a Core planet, in fact. Slack Dog was released from the Atla L5 Prison Cube two months ago.”

  Onscreen Bee approached an airlock in docking bay B. It opened for her after a few seconds and she spoke to someone inside.

  “Who’s she talking to?”

  “Records show the shuttle docked at airlock B46 at that time belonged to the privateer frigate Wanderlust. A very reputable craft.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Wanderlust is captained by Victor Anson.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Robert626 turned to stare at Hargrove. “You run a hotel in the middle of Overlook City. How is it you don’t know the name of the man who brought in Dreadstar?”

  Hargrove ignored the recruiter’s remark, continuing to watch the screen. “I don’t care about any of that propagandized barbarism.”

  “Barbarism? The Record is quite clear on the whole debacle.”

  “Believe what you want,” Hargrove said with a wave of his hand. “I’ll trust my own memories, not some whitewashed collection of handpicked material. What about everything that didn’t make it on the Record?”

  “I’d like to know which events you take issue with. The Record is an archive of verifiable data, not a comprehensive history. It’s only meant to give an overview.”

  Two figures appeared at the airlock Bee had just entered.

  “Who are they?” Hargrove asked.

  “Unknown,” Robert626 said. He touched the display to pause it and pointed to their faces, which upon closer inspection Hargrove saw were blurred beyond recognition. “Tower censored them before he sent it down to us. Privacy protection. Since you’re Bee’s legal guardian we can see her, but everyone else is kept anonymous.”

  “What if we need to know who they are? What are they doing?”

  “Just watch.”

  Robert626 resumed the video and the two newcomers entered the ship. Hargrove’s heartbeat picked up. What was Bee doing? Based on the amount she’d been paid his mind jumped to conclusions he refused to entertain. The video jumped forward, she came back out into the hallway, and relief once again surged through him.

  Bee tucked something into her waistline and covered it with her shirt. She walked back the way she came, and before long a large man with a red bandanna on his head followed her out. His face was similarly blurred and as he stalked toward Bee Hargrove had to restrain himself from crying out in warning. He gasped when the man reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder.

  “He’s hurting her!”

  They shouted back and forth as the man searched her pack. Finding nothing, he shoved her into a corner. Hargrove bristled. She reached into her pack, rummaged around, and flinched when the lights started going crazy.

  “This is when Orpheus changed trajectory,” Robert626 explained. “Everyone had to evacuate the station, get back down to Surface.”

  “Then why isn’t she here?” demanded Hargrove.

  More shouting with the attacker. He advanced on her—and she slashed with a knife she produced from her pack. Hargrove stiffened, alarmed, but as if fed up with her the man abruptly threw his arms up in the air and left. Hargrove beamed with pride at her for defending herself, but Bee immediately took off after him.

  “What’s she doing?” he asked.

  “She’s leaving with them,” Robert626 said.

  “What!” he cried.

  Hargrove watched in disbelief as she followed the man onto the shuttle.

  “Wanderlust is well on its way to Optima now. No one was sure if the comet would come near the station or not, so I think she made the right choice going with them.”

  “I have to get there,” Hargrove said.

  “Nonsense,” Robert626 said. “More than likely they’re dropping her off on Optima and sending her straight back here.”

  “Why hasn’t she contacted me?”

  “Maybe she’s tried. The network’s been all over the place with most of our satellites out of commission. I can try to send something to her now if you’d like, but mostly everything in orbit has already been retasked for military use.”

  “Yes, of course. Just tell her—”

  “No, I meant you can make a recording and send it. I’ll give you some privacy,” Robert626 said as he rose and left Hargrove alone in the room.

  ***

  Gruce took the ring from Pluck and held it up against the light, turning it back and forth. Barely even a shimmer. He could hear the pounding on the shelter’s door as Overlook City police officers announced their presence.

  “How did you find it?” Gruce asked.

  Pluck winked. “Got good eyes, dearest.”

  “Let’s open it.”

  “Careful, careful. The other end could be anyplace.”

  “No time to waste on caution. Luck’s our only way out of this.”

  Pluck took the ring back from Gruce and expanded it with a flick of the wrist. In total it was a few feet across. As it widened the ring’s band thinned and before long Pluck held a flat ring big enough for a man to fit through. He set it on the ground.

  “They never found this one, so it’s likely the other one’s gone unnoticed too,” Gruce said. “With any luck Jensen put it somewhere close to the edge of the city. If that’s the case, maybe we’ll actually get out of this alive. These bumpkins will think we’re still in here.”

  “Time to find out,” Pluck said as he accessed his hardlight screen.

  After he pecked in several commands the area inside the ring instantly changed from smooth metal plating to a view from the floor up of a darkened room. Light from the shelter’s entrance spilled through the hole, revealing it as a vacant hotel room. Pluck crouched and peered inside.

  “Empty.”

  “Let’s go,” Gruce said. “Fast, fast. Silence once we’re through.”

  Pluck pulled himself through the hole
and emerged in the hotel room. Gruce followed and Pluck terminated the link after he was through. The longer it was active the easier it was to notice. Both of their suits were low on juice so they ran dark, using minimal power—as close to cloaked as they could get. No filters, no tracking, limited computer assistance.

  Captain Gruce took the lead, shouldering his laser rifle as they approached the room’s door. Pluck drifted behind, still avoiding putting any pressure on his wounded leg, taking the same stance with his own weapon to cover his superior. The door slid aside and Gruce peeked into the hallway. Clear. He stepped out.

  Room number 133. First floor, thank the stars. Time to find an exit. Just a little more luck and they’d be out of the city. Maybe one of Starhawk’s ships could drop in for extraction. Gruce advanced down the hallway, ready to put a beam inside anyone who got in his way. At the end of the hall an exit sign hung from the ceiling.

  They were almost to the corner when a white-armored Volunteer Core Militia trooper came around it. He froze for a heartbeat and Gruce dropped to one knee, firing for the head. A white-hot beam of light lanced forward and melted the trooper’s helmet like plastic, burning through and leaving a streak of fire on the wall behind him. He crumpled and fell forward, twitching.

  Gruce wasted no time, launching forward and careening off the wall in his haste to get to the exit. As he rounded the corner another VCM trooper came crashing out of a room with his rifle up, already priming with deadly power. The trooper’s beam went high and Gruce ducked to avoid it, firing from the hip in response. He scored a graze on the trooper’s shoulder and Pluck finished him off with a few short bursts to the chest.

  The exit to the city streets was just down the hall. They were so close. So, so close. But these casualties would not go unnoticed. More would come, and this time they had no back door to slip out of. Gruce had almost resigned himself to death when another figure in white blundered out into the hall. He brought up his rifle to fire—

  At the last second Gruce changed his aim and fired a shot at the man’s legs. No armor, no weapon. Another VCM judging by the clothing, but not a soldier—an unarmed civilian would make a good hostage. Gruce approached his quarry and did a double take when he saw the man’s face.