The Star Pirate's Folly

by James Hanlon

  Captain Anson rubbed his palms together. “We may be on to something here. Really on to something.”

  They watched the drone’s camera feed as it flitted to the asteroid’s craggy surface. Myra tweaked the display and replaced the bright green blob with an outline around its circumference. All the rock and sand within the circle looked exactly the same as everything around it.

  Then the faintest tremor rippled across the surface.

  “Power surge!” Myra cried. “It’s an active gate!”

  The ground in front of the drone erupted in a sudden cloud of black dirt, and from it emerged the nose of a battle-scarred warship. As it tore free from the hidden gate a cannon primed and fired on the drone. Its display went dark. Deep Fog streaked away from the asteroid, firing a parting shot that took out the other drone before anyone could blink.

  “Truly, Hornets!” Captain Anson barked, and the First Officer dashed away.

  Bee’s mind went stupid with shock. A gate? What was a gate doing there? How did Starhawk get through it? Her heart started pounding in a hot rush. Starhawk. This had to be it. Steel or no steel, she’d found her fight.

  Kill him, Mother hissed.

  “He’s coming straight for us,” Myra said. “Twenty-three minutes and they’re on us. Maintain course or do we break and run?”

  “Maintain course, we’ve got nowhere to go. Silver, you’ve got the bridge!” Anson stalked after Truly and said to Bee, “You, with me.”

  Bee fell into step after him.

  “We’re gonna suit up and get ready to fight,” he said over his shoulder. “He’ll want to take us as a prize. If they board us we hold the bridge no matter what. You hear me?”

  “Hold the bridge,” Bee repeated with a complete lack of confidence as she walked behind the Captain. “I only just got my suit.”

  “Yeah, and now you get to use it to kill pirates,” he said, grunting as he opened the bulkhead door to the nullroom. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

  Chapter 33: Traitor

  What she wanted.

  Bee slid the tight-fitting nullsuit helmet over her head, the scent of old dust filling her nostrils. If she had what she wanted she’d never have been involved in any of it. Had it been her choice she’d be living a happy life on Surface. Whatever that meant. Revenge was all she knew. The only time resembling peace she could remember was the Midtown. Hargrove.

  Starhawk butchered that fond memory.

  “Am I good?” she asked the Captain.

  He gave her armor a rapid once over and patted her twice on the back before sealing his own helmet to his suit, the plain black nullsteel gleaming with hints of purple. Aside from the Captain’s suit being a few sizes larger, the only difference between them seemed to be the stripes of color across their joints—white for him and yellow for her.

  “Just let Myra show you what to do,” Anson said. “When it comes to real combat your brain can’t do what she can. She’ll give you an edge, keep you alive. Let her take over and you’ve got a better chance—we’ll all be doing the same if it comes to it. Follow me.”

  With no room for argument, Bee followed the veteran privateer back to the bridge.

  “We’re a bunch of damn fools,” Anson said, seething with anger as he ranted over the common channel. “They weren’t burying his stockpile, they were building a network of these things. And we didn’t even know! Flew out here thinking I’d be able to retire and instead we plow straight into a cosmic shitstorm.”

  “Can we take him?”

  The Captain forced a sharp laugh. “Why do you think we’re maintaining course? He’s foolish to come after us.”

  A thrill of excitement shot through her. After so much time spent waiting, her moment would finally come. She imagined Starhawk surviving whatever kind of damage Wanderlust could inflict on his ship, that he’d be alive there inside—wounded, drifting, helpless. She’d start with his face.

  “He’s been quiet,” Myra said to them. “Before he couldn’t wait to blab on about himself, but so far nothing.”

  “No theatrics out here,” Anson said. “He’s come for blood.”

  “He’ll be swimming in it. Truly’s launching the Hornets and we’re three minutes from firing range.”

  The Captain entered the bridge, Bee close on his heels. Silver and Ferro tended the projected map in the center of the room, where their little scrap of the asteroid belt was etched in three dimensions. The gap between Wanderlust and the flashing enemy ship shrank with each moment.

  “Hornets away," Truly said. Wanderlust spawned a cluster of smaller ships on the display.

  Captain Anson watched the map. "We move in slow. Myra, be ready to make a break. I want to draw him as far from that gate as we can—could be a trap waiting on the other side."

  Bee clenched her armored fists, eager to contribute. "What can I do?"

  "I told you," Anson said. "We hold the bridge. If it comes to that."

  “But I don’t have a gun.”

  “That’s because I haven’t given you one yet. Not that I expect you’ll get the chance to use it.”

  "What about after we win? Do we board his ship?"

  "If there's anything left of it," Silver sniffed.

  Her persistence drew a glare from the Captain. She couldn't see his expression through the helmet's reflective visor, but she got the message and took a step back, silenced. Mother's words danced on the tip of her tongue. He had to live. She hadn't come all the way from Surface to have him die before she was ready to let him. No, he needed to live long enough to suffer. Long enough to please Mother. Bee didn’t see any way to make that happen, just felt the blind urge and hoped she’d get the opportunity.

  "Gate just lit up again," Myra warned. "Incoming fighter craft! He's got carriers on the other side!"

  Dozens of tiny flashing blips swarmed from the asteroid.

  "Reverse course!" Anson ordered. "Truly, stick with us and we'll draw them out. Trap’s sprung, now we whittle them down."

  Bee watched the projection of Wanderlust whip around impossibly fast at the Captain's command and speed away from the approaching ships, the squadron of seven Hornets following in its wake. Bee wasn't sure if she actually felt the ship lurch as it spun or if she only imagined it, but her stomach twisted in unhappy knots.

  "He's got the edge now," Myra said. "We've got to keep distance from the gate or they could just keep throwing fighters at us. We play it safe, chip away with the Hornets. Once we're far enough out we can make a move for Deep Fog, but we can't engage yet."

  The map in front of the crew expanded to display as much detail as possible, enlarging to many times its original size. Wanderlust and its squadron of Hornet fighters led the pursuers by hundreds of miles, but Bee knew within seconds they could close that distance. After so long, there he was. Just moments away.

  “You’re trembling,” whispered Myra on their private channel.

  “I’m close,” Bee said to her. “Almost there.”

  “I know. I’ve seen it. I’m going to help you. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” The word came sharp and sure, no hesitation—steel, like the Captain said.

  “Ready to be a traitor?”

  Bee cocked her head. “What?”

  A yellow waypoint arrow appeared at the far right edge of her display, indicating she had to turn to see the area it marked. Looking over her shoulder, Bee saw the outline of Wanderlust’s transport shuttle through the walls.

  “If you want to get Starhawk yourself that’s how you’re going to have to do it. Victor’s going to send you to the armory in a minute but instead you’ll go to the shuttle.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Victor’s not going to let you out of his reach unless you force his hand,” Myra said. “Starhawk dies today, there’s no doubt of that—the only question is how. If you want things your way you need to make some sacrifices. Like Victor’s trust.”

  “Why the shuttle? It’s not even armed, is it?”
/>
  “No.”

  “So why—”

  The Captain’s voice cut in on the common channel. “Bee, meet Spud in the armory,” he said. “He’ll get you what you need. You’re my last line of defense if any of these bastards get on board, so move it.”

  “Okay—yes, sir,” Bee said, hesitant. For a second she froze, sure the Captain would somehow know she’d been conspiring with Myra.

  “Go on, I said move.”

  She left the bridge and stopped just outside, the outline of the shuttle still gleaming at the other end of the ship. One of Myra’s waypoints popped up in the hallway to her right, urging her toward the shuttle. She knew the armory was the other way.

  Myra said privately to her, “Spud’s not in the armory anyway. He’s waiting for you on the shuttle. We’re forming our own little boarding party.”

  “What about the crew? Captain said he needed me here.”

  “He just wants to keep you safe. Do you want this or not, Bee? Time’s ticking.”

  “Why would you do this?” Bee demanded.

  “Because he’s got it coming.”

  Reluctant to betray the Captain but exhilarated at the idea of finally coming face to face with Starhawk, Bee felt suddenly as though the entire suit was nudging her toward the waypoint. Like it wanted to go that way, like it was alive and she’d taken over its body but it remained in spirit. Again the suit made its wishes known, tiny pushing sensations all over, as though a hundred small hands prodded her forward. She’d felt the same thing during training with Truly.

  “Stop it, Myra,” Bee said.

  “It’s not me, it’s my clone. That’s how she’s gonna talk to you, so you better learn to listen. Now move it. You don’t have long, their fighters are closing the gap. We’ll lose our window—”

  Bee made an unhappy growl as she gave in to the armor and headed for the docking bay. Spud was there just like Myra said, pacing near the shuttle’s open airlock in full suit. Bee waved for him to get inside the craft as she approached. The gargantuan wrung his hands, looking oddly childlike, and glanced at the shuttle.

  Spud joined their private channel and asked, “Going in there?”

  “It’s alright, Spud,” Myra crooned, her hardlight projection appearing with a shimmer to take him by the elbow. “We’re just going for a little ride. There are some bad men after us right now, Spud, and we need your help to fight them. Are you ready?”

  The armored giant straightened to his full height and puffed out his chest. “Always ready to fight.”

  With some gentle encouragement from Myra and Bee, they got him on board along with the overstuffed bags of weaponry he’d brought from the armory. The bags must have been made with a nullsteel weave like her old suit because they hardly weighed a thing. Either that or the armor gave her more strength than she expected. Once inside Bee dropped the bags and Spud shut the airlock behind her. She headed to the cockpit. From its main displays Bee saw the docking bay’s outer door crack open and the shuttle plotted a flightpath to the enemy warship.

  “How exactly is this going to work?” Bee asked as the shuttle rose off the deck. Myra must have been piloting.

  “Well, first off we’ll need a couple of Truly’s Hornets to protect us,” Myra said. The Hornets’ outlines illuminated on Bee’s display. “Here goes.”

  The docking bay faced the rear of Wanderlust, giving Bee a clear view of the marked enemy fleet off in the distance. Starhawk’s pack of fighter craft streaked ahead of his flagship Deep Fog, growing closer every second. The seven Hornets flitted around in defensive positions at Wanderlust’s flank. Bee wondered which one Truly was piloting. The rest had to be under Myra’s control.

  “You’ll want to get to the rear of the ship with Spud,” Myra said. “Our landing will be… a bit rough.”

  Bee hurried to the spot Myra indicated with a waypoint and found Spud crouched with his back against the wall. He grabbed her arm and pulled her down next to him. “This is insane,” she realized.

  “No, my dear. This is cold, hard calculation.”

  “No, you’re gonna crash us into his ship. That’s insane.”

  “It’s the only way,” Myra assured her, and brought Truly into their channel. “Truly, heads up. Got a javelin needs an escort here.”

  “Javelin? What?” Truly said, confused. “Negative, Myra, negative. I need every one of these to keep the fighters away.”

  “You’ll make do.”

  Two of the roving Hornet fighters broke away from the rest and sped toward the shuttle as it exited the docking bay.

  “Myra, no!” Truly shouted. “Captain, she’s rogue. Do you copy? Captain!”

  “Sorry, Truly. I hate to come between you two, but he’ll understand. Just stick to the plan, I’m only borrowing them. You draw the fighters out, give us an opening. I’m already inside Deep Fog’s systems—we’ve got ‘em by the balls, they just don’t know it yet. I can disarm their defenses for maybe twenty seconds before they shut me out.”

  “Myra, you conniving—”

  “Best get moving, Truly.”

  She dropped him from the channel as he unloaded a barrage of filthy insults. Crouched next to Spud in the shuttle, Bee felt very much afraid of Myra then. She wondered if the Captain had figured out what they were doing. Surely he’d see the Hornets out of position—unless Myra deceived him on the bridge, presented false readings. She had absolute power over Wanderlust, it seemed, with or without the Captain’s permission. He might not even know anything was wrong yet.

  Chapter 34: Star-Crossed

  Truly’s five Hornet attack ships worked in tandem against dozens of pirate fighter craft, drawing them away from Deep Fog and the hidden gate. The agile Hornets dodged beyond the reach of the pirate fighters and used their close-range lasers to slice apart droves of the pirates’ smart missiles.

  “Got most of them tied up, Myra,” Truly said, curt and strained. “There’s your window, make it count.”

  Bee asked Myra, “Is this going to hurt?”

  “Depends on whether or not everything goes as planned,” Myra said. “But the numbers say it shouldn’t.”

  The shuttle stuck close to its twin Hornet escorts as they covered the distance between the retreating Wanderlust and Deep Fog in pursuit. Crouching against the wall and locked in place by the nullsuit’s gravity nodes, Bee resigned herself to the AI’s calculated optimism. If this was her one shot, she’d make the best of it. She had a steel-hearted brute of a solider beside her and a hyper-aware artificial intelligence guiding her every movement. Considering her only previous plan had been a lone, undoubtedly suicidal attack with a knife, this situation seemed ideal. Better than she ever had reason to hope for.

  The minimap swarmed with action. Wanderlust continued its retreat, providing supportive fire against the fighters, but the shuttle shot off toward Deep Fog along with the two Hornets. Four fighters remained guarding Starhawk’s warship and the shuttle’s sudden advance stirred them to action. The fighters streaked off to meet the Hornet escorts.

  Still crouched in the back of the shuttle next to Spud, Bee swallowed her fear and reminded herself what was at stake. She’d suffered more than a decade at Starhawk’s hands. Her mother died filthy and foul, a rasping vitriolic shell of a person—nothing like the woman from Bee’s cherished early memories. Starhawk did that. Starhawk took her mother’s life. The old resolve came roaring back.

  No more searching. No more uncertainty. Just one final task.

  “Ready to pull the plug on their weapons systems. Think I’ll get started on that gate now,” Myra said. “I can see a few chinks in the armor already. Might be able to stop them sending more ships.”

  “Just get me on board.”

  Deep Fog’s four remaining fighters launched a barrage of missiles toward the Hornets and they pulled back, again using their lasers to slice the missiles into harmless scrap or detonate them before they got close enough for real damage. The fighters split into two groups of two, advanci
ng in a pincer attack, and before Bee could blink the Hornets darted together at one of the pairs.

  The flurry of visual data was impossible to follow, but after the lightning fast encounter the Hornets emerged unscathed. One damaged fighter limped back to Deep Fog, its partner carved to pieces in the attack, as the shuttle pressed on straight toward Deep Fog.

  Swift in the void, the Hornets moved to intercept the final two fighters immediately. The shuttle banked toward the protection of the Hornets just as the fighters fired another volley of missiles—this time followed by a scatter-shot cone of projectiles. Myra jerked the shuttle out of harm’s way and the blast of destruction passed harmlessly by. The Hornets swooped in to slice apart the incoming volley of self-guided missiles while launching their own back at the pirate fighters.

  Deep Fog loomed closer with each moment.

  “We in range of their weapons?” Bee asked with a nervous tremor.

  Myra sounded distracted. “Not quite. Few more seconds. Gotta cut this close or you won’t have time to board. Almost there. Hijacking weapons and power systems—clock’s started. They know I’m in. Less than thirty seconds in the clear.”

  On Bee’s display, Deep Fog unleashed a barrage of missiles at the shuttle. The two escort Hornets spun around and headed right for the incoming attack, the pirate fighters giving chase.

  “Uh, Myra?”

  “Don’t worry.”

  Most of the missiles suddenly veered back toward Deep Fog, detonating in a bloom of shrapnel that peppered the bow of the warship with jagged holes. The rest slipped right past the two Hornets and found their true targets, staccato explosions tearing through the pirate fighters. Unimpeded by other enemies, the Hornets charged forward and concentrated their high powered lasers at close range on the section of the hull the missiles had shredded. Molten slag oozed from the edges of the gaping wound, a white-hot target for the rapidly approaching shuttle. Deep Fog maintained its course, paralyzed by Myra’s touch.

  “Here we go,” Myra warned. “They’re about to lock me out. Keep your helmet on, I vented most of their oxygen. Internal defenses are fried and I’ve got their crew tagged for you. The Hornets burned you a tunnel so you’ll punch through near their bridge. When you get inside, you won’t be able to use the airlock. Spud’s going to have to slice through the shuttle wall to get you out. Stay with him. Get in, kill Starhawk, and get to their hangar bay to escape. I’m with you every step of the way, Bee. Brace yourself.”