The Star Pirate's Folly

by James Hanlon

  Fix glanced around the bar, took stock of the occupants. A handful of other Family members, none of them fellow Donovans, and Tjarko’s men outnumbered them all. “Council ruled on it. Starhawk’s no Boss—ain’t even Family anymore. No reason for me to stick my neck out for him. Especially not going after Anson.”

  “Coward.” Tjarko spat at Fix’s feet.

  Fix took a step back, crossed his arms. A firm stand was needed or Tjarko would walk all over him. He couldn’t let the insult go unanswered, spoke loud and strong. “I’m not shipping out with a bunch of leaky-brain shitheads flying scrapheap floating coffins. Not against Anson. Not for Starhawk. Hump that, bud, I’ll keep breathing. You want to go against the Council’s ruling there’ll be more than just Donovans after you—the Families are together in this.”

  “Fine, coward,” Tjarko said and spat again, this time on Fix’s boot. “You want to bend a knee to the Core-dwelling scum that’s your choice. Starhawk’s on his way out here, victorious after sieging Surface. After my crew takes out Anson for him we’ll be rich, and after him we’ll move on to the rest of the privateers. With the Core Fleet back home the whole outer system will be ours. This is the beginning of a new age, Fix. You’re with us or against us. Think hard one last time. Whose side you want to be on?”

  Fix thunked his empty cup down on the table and met Tjarko’s glare with unblinking hickory-brown eyes. “I’m a Donovan. Starhawk’s not Family anymore and neither are you. Best of luck, though.”

  He turned to leave with his heart exploding in his chest, every muscle in his body goading him to run, but he kept his shoulders back and his head held high. Fix felt the target on his back, the hairs on his neck rigid in warning. Keep walking, he told himself, just get home. They see you run with your tail curled under you’re a dead man anyway. After he entered the tunnel and started moving—with more than a few sly backward glances along the way—his heartbeat slowed and Fix relaxed.

  The bag went over his head in an instant, darkness all around. Burly hands took him by the arms and legs. He tried to shout but they shoved a wad of the rough fabric into his mouth and the acrid taste of old vomit made him retch. Fix sobbed into the suffocating material and went limp as they picked him up and carried him away.

  ***

  “We’re being followed,” Myra said into Captain Anson’s ear. “Four junker attack craft. The recon drone we left behind picked them up a few seconds ago.”

  “Tail them.” Anson turned his helmet to look behind Wanderlust from his perch on the outside of her hull. He couldn’t see anything through the purple-black material of the radiation umbrella, but he stared all the same back in the direction of Optima for a moment. “Almost finished out here.”

  The ideal scenario would involve a pressurized docking bay, but he didn’t want to spend a moment longer on Optima than he had to. Now he knew he’d made the right choice.

  “You want to see them?” Myra asked. “They could actually catch up.”

  “When I get inside.”

  “See you soon.”

  Grunting an affirmative, Victor resumed the repairs. His sources on Optima told him Starhawk put out a bounty of ten thousand coin for him—luckily after Wanderlust left port and not before. Victor doubted Starhawk could actually pay that much but some were obviously tempted out of greed or desperation. The power-hungry pirate probably expected they’d all get killed and only hoped to use the attempt as a last ditch effort against the privateers.

  Victor finished fixing the weakened repulsor unit and sealed its thick panel back in place, the midnight-purple nullsteel coat melding together with the rest of the hull until the panel’s seam disappeared, leaving the surface a seamless shell. Myra had noticed some abnormal vibrations after leaving Optima and recommended the tweak before they got any further. Thanks to the recon drone he’d dropped in Wanderlust’s wake they had plenty of time to keep out of their pursuers’ combat range.

  They’d get closer than he was comfortable with, though. Victor stood and grabbed the handle of the oversized foil umbrella, the bottom edge extending to the hull all around him. The multi-layered material shaded him from the ravages of open space as he walked back to the airlock, a lustrous wart scooting along the ship’s smooth hull. His suit would have provided sufficient protection for such a short period but as a lifelong space pilot Victor knew better than to take unnecessary risks in zee.

  “Ferro, change of plans. I want you to resume course as soon as possible.” Anson said. They’d have to get moving—Wanderlust took time to get up to full speed without a launching pod.

  “Yes sir,” she said with a note of hesitation.

  “We got dogs on our trail,” Victor said. “Four attack ships from Optima. I’m coming inside so Myra will fill you in on the rest. Just want to get a head start.”

  “Moving out, Captain,” Ferro said. “Come back safe.”

  “There’s something else too, Victor,” Myra’s voice said in his ear again. “It’s about Starhawk.”

  “Ugh,” Victor groaned. “Spare me.”

  “No, you’ll want to hear this. They’ve escaped Surface.”

  “Escaped! Don’t any of those Core-suckling piglets know how to take down a pirate? Where’s the damn Core Fleet?”

  “Too far out to help. Pirates inside the city kidnapped a high-value hostage and bargained their way off planet. You’re not going to believe this, but the hostage is Bee’s boss from the hotel. The one who killed Jensen Lee.”

  “Useless! How did they manage to—” he began but stopped himself. “Never mind, just let me get inside. And don’t tell the girl yet, for stars’ sake. That’s a direct order, Myra. Let me handle this.”

  ***

  Bee busied herself with cooking breakfast for her crewmates to avoid thinking about the fear which had once again become her constant companion. She thought she’d conquered fear a long time ago on Surface, before she ever set foot in the sanctuary of Midtown Hotel. She learned to kill it before it could sink its teeth in and bleed her dry—back then it was learn or die.

  But once again Bee felt its talons inside her gut, cold slashing terror striking fresh wounds every time she thought about facing Starhawk. She wasn’t ready. She’d never been ready. Whatever naive confidence of success she had before was gone. The reality of Starhawk’s attack against the Core set in, the futility of her mission to kill a man who commanded an army of cutthroats.

  Kill him, Mother echoed.

  Mother whispered in her ear all the time since Optima. New things—more than her usual singsong phrases. Lately she’d been giving specific orders. Sometimes Mother stopped Bee from revealing certain things to the crew about her past or told her to lie. She always felt bad about lying but they just slipped out. Even Hargrove never got the truth from her. She’d gotten so used to listening to Mother it was second nature doing as she said. It had saved her skin more than once over the years.

  And then there were the nightmares.

  Thankfully Mother wasn’t in those but they terrified Bee all the same. She could never remember anything but the falling. Every time she woke up in a cold sweat, sometimes screaming. Myra told her it was normal, just her body getting used to spending so much time in zero gravity. Bee read some articles Myra provided on the subject which made her feel better—but the shock of waking in what felt like free fall never faded.

  Afraid of moving forward, incapable of going back, and horrified at the thought of failing Mother, Bee didn’t realize she was serving breakfast to an empty table until she’d filled three plates. Even Silver, who usually led the cooking, had been absent the whole time. She’d been so buried in thought she didn’t notice. Captain Anson kept a strict schedule and the crew missing a meal was a red flag. Bee left everything on the table and dashed from the dining room to the bridge.

  Chapter 27: Pressure

  “Myra, what’s going on?” Bee called as she hurried to the bridge, darting through an open bulkhead door.

  “Nothing to wor
ry about, kiddo,” came Myra’s chipper ambient voice. “I would have sounded the alarm. Why don’t you just go eat your breakfast? All that food’s gonna go to waste!”

  Bee slowed to a confused walk. “But where is everyone?”

  “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Bee. Go on and eat, the others will join you shortly.”

  “Why won’t you answer me?”

  Myra said nothing.

  Bee’s heartbeat picked up. The computer wouldn’t answer a direct question—she was hiding something. Dread grasped her by the throat and squeezed. Talking to Myra felt different ever since the Captain took her offline and tweaked her. Bee couldn’t trust her the same anymore. No more favors.

  “Where’s the rest of the crew?” Bee asked.

  “Please return to the dining room,” the AI said in timid reply.

  Defiant, Bee continued on her way until she found that one of the other doors between her and the bridge was shut. She grasped the wheel and tried to open it. Locked. Bee pounded on the dark metal. “Let me through!”

  No response. She pressed her ear to the door but heard nothing. Desperate, Bee stepped back and kicked her heel against the door, shouting for someone to let her in. As she stepped back to prepare another kick the door swung open and Truly slipped through the gap as someone else sealed the door again behind him.

  “Out of the way!” he said, shoving past her.

  “What’s happening!” she cried, chasing after the long-legged privateer as he sprinted headlong toward the nullroom.

  Truly ignored her, rounded a corner, and the heavy clang of another bulkhead door slamming closed rang through the halls. It locked with a solid click. Near hysterics, Bee screamed with frustration and spun on her heel to return to the bridge.

  ***

  “They’re giving us video,” Myra said.

  “Put it in a window,” ordered Captain Anson.

  Myra opened a large window in front of the Captain, Silver, and Ferro. A video stream of Starhawk and his crew on the bridge of his warship played inside the borderless frame.

  “I know you’ve got the map, Anson,” Starhawk proclaimed with a grating laugh. “I’m sure you’ve already seen my boys behind you there. Here’s my offer: stop now and give it to a grub named Tjarko when he catches up to you. Long as you give up that map we can part ways, but until I get it I won’t stop coming for you. I know what you’re looking for, Anson. You won’t find it. But I’ll find you.”

  The golden-armored pirate brought another man onscreen as Captain Anson and the others on Wanderlust’s bridge watched in silence. The heavyset man was held up by two guards, his face bloodied and bloated. His head sagged to his chest, rolling off to one side as the guards adjusted their grip.

  “I realize you’re probably not convinced yet, but my friend here might be able to change your mind. You know who this is if you’ve been watching the news. That Surface girl you’ve got working with you—she knows this porker too, from the hotel. So unless you want to see how he holds up in zero pressure—or maybe something more creative, don’t hold me to that—you’ll do as I say. Isn’t that right, my friend? Tell them.”

  Hargrove groaned and raised his head with some difficulty. “Bee,” he slurred almost incoherently, “do as he says. Please save me, Bee. Give them what they want.”

  “See, this guy understands.” Starhawk tousled the big man’s hair. “He gets it. We’ve had such enlightening conversations.”

  “Hargrove’s dusted,” Myra said quickly. “His mind is not his own.”

  The Captain had become familiar with the practice during his many journeys between planets. Officially, the pirates’ Council of Families banned the devotion-inducing substance, fearing their own members being dosed and divulging sensitive information, but its use quickly became widespread among the Families. He’d heard speculation that the pirates’ recent fracturing was driven in part by the Council’s opposition to the stuff.

  “He told me all about your copy of the map,” Starhawk continued. “And about the girl. You know, I might just want to take her too as part of the deal. Sweet young thing. I can see how she got Jensen all riled up.”

  Victor narrowed his eyes. He replied through a jawline mic, opening the channel only for a brief message. “I don’t make deals with pirates.”

  Starhawk couldn’t resist putting himself on camera, but the Captain thought it foolish to give the enemy eyes inside his ship. Victor turned to stand with his back to the screen, facing his crew and spreading his hands in request of counsel as Starhawk spewed insults and profanities in the background. “Thoughts?”

  “We can’t save him,” Silver growled. “If we let them in range they’ll board us. No matter what he says, if they get the chance to take a warship like Wanderlust as a prize they certainly will. Not to mention your bounty, sir.”

  “No way they catch up if we maintain course.” Ferro shook her head emphatically. “And even then, four junkers are no threat to us. Truly could probably take them with just the Hornets, I bet.”

  “Bee knows we’re all in here, Captain,” Myra said. “Orders?”

  “Keep her out, I don’t want her to see this.” Anson turned back to the screen.

  Myra spoke privately, whispering into the earbud attached to his jawline mic. “Is that really your choice to make?”

  The Captain ignored her while Starhawk spoke again. He couldn’t have Bee on the bridge with them, she was too unpredictable. With Hargrove in the state he was, Victor couldn’t let her see him. Starhawk was only using the man to manipulate Victor through Bee.

  “Fine, fine, fine,” the pirate said as he paced back and forth. “Saves me the trouble of thinking up another execution. Haven’t seen a suitless spacewalk in a while, actually.” With an armored gauntlet he patted Hargrove on the cheek. “You hear that, Core-dweller? They don’t want you. We brought you all this way for nothing. You’re junk now. Garbage. Trash. Time to vent you with the rest of the waste.”

  “They’re gonna kill him,” Ferro said. “Bee—”

  Silver crossed his arms and shook his head. “Nothing we can do. We can’t risk even a single hit on Wanderlust this far out. We’ve barely gotten on our way.”

  It pained Anson to consider the girl’s fortune. She left Surface chasing Starhawk, seeking revenge for the death of her only parent—just in time for him to return to the planet after years of absence. Then the psychopath bombed her home, forced her off planet, kidnapped her mentor, somehow escaped, and seemed poised to murder the only other parental figure the girl had ever known. It stung even a leathery old heart like Victor’s, dredging up miseries of his own he thought he’d buried deep enough to disappear.

  Yielding to Starhawk’s demands meant certain death. If the pirates were allowed to move in close enough to take the map they would surely attempt to board Wanderlust. His skeleton crew stood little chance against superior numbers. As long as he kept moving they were safe and the pack of wolves at their heels could do nothing more than chase the scent of its prey through the stellar winds.

  Wanderlust was no defenseless fawn. Between the cluster of seven Hornet fighters tucked underneath her belly, the close-range lasers studding her hull, and her ten mass-driving gravity cannons, they could hold their own against four attack ships. But as far out as they were the last thing Anson wanted was risking damage to the ship. They’d traveled well beyond the reach of emergency assistance. Even a small wound could lead to crippling complications, which the veteran privateer was sure Starhawk knew well.

  The danger was too great.

  ***

  The bulkhead door Bee railed against swung inward at last. Captain Anson stood on the other side, his shoulders hunched and eyes cast to the ground.

  “Captain?” she asked. “What’s—”

  He stepped forward and held his arms out, wrapped her in a tight embrace with her head against his chest. Confused, alarmed, she pulled back and looked up at the Captain’s face. The normally stone-faced old man
had pain and sadness painted across his features.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s your friend Hargrove.”

  “No,” Bee said. A chill swept across her whole body. “No, he’s safe in the shelters.”

  “He went looking for you in the city.”

  “What?” she cried.

  “Some of Starhawk’s men under the dome found him and kidnapped him. They’ve used him as a hostage to escape the planet. They’re after our map.”

  Bee reeled back, stunned, and held her hand against the wall to keep steady. The map—Hargrove—it was all her fault. The Captain reached out to take her arm but she recoiled from him.

  “No—Hargrove!” she screamed. “Where is he?”

  “We got a message. Some of his men from Optima have followed us. If we don’t stop and give up the map they’re going to…” He trailed off, unable to say the words. “They’re going to kill him.”

  “Then we have to give them the map. Please, I never would have taken it if I knew—just give it to them, you can’t let him die.”

  “We can’t stop. It’s a trick. If we do they could damage the ship, maybe even board it.”

  “Coward!” she shouted, and struck him on the chest.

  The Captain didn’t flinch, but restrained her arms at her sides and held her still. “If we stopped they’d just kill us all.”

  She struggled ineffectually in his grip. “This can’t be happening—how could the Fleet just let them go?”

  “They had no choice.” The excuse sounded false, hollow.

  “We have to save him,” she begged.

  “We can’t,” Captain Anson said softly, shaking his head.

  “I have to save him.” Her voice trembled as she looked up into the Captain’s eyes.

  “We still have some time before I give them my answer. If you want to see him there’s video. I have to warn you he’s not in a good way, Bee. You might not want to remember him how he is now.”

  “What do you mean? What did they do to him?”