Dark Star Rising

by Bennett R. Coles

  Mary’s laugh was fuller this time, but Amelia didn’t relax under the woman’s calculating stare.

  The pirate stretched lazily in her chair. “He must have loved taking down the noble officers.”

  “None of us even got a swipe.” Amelia remembered previous pirate attacks, where regular crew had been killed quickly but nobility had been tortured first. “But he made it long and painful, especially for the captain.”

  Mary’s lips curled in a knowing sneer, but she offered no further comment.

  “You got anything for us?” Amelia asked.

  “Not much. There’s a civilian trader in port right now, headed by some noble idiot, and we’re trying to figure out where he comes from.”

  “What’s the name?”

  “Sophia’s Fancy is the ship. Captain’s name is Stonebridge.”

  Amelia made a show of thinking before shaking her head. “Don’t know the family name—but that ship’s been in the sector for a few months, hasn’t it?”

  “Has it? I didn’t know.”

  Mary’s face was blank, putting Amelia on edge. She grabbed the initiative in the conversation.

  “You didn’t? How long have you been here?”

  “About two months,” Mary replied, defensiveness sneaking into her expression. “I was leading an enforcement team in Pacifica until . . .” She pushed back her chair and pointed down. Amelia peered over the desk and saw only one leg stretched out. The other had been sliced off above the knee. A wooden stump was fastened with straps to her thigh.

  “Sorry,” Amelia offered coolly.

  “Brute tailsword,” Mary said, eyes afire. “But I got the bastard before I fell. You can live with a leg chopped off, but not a head.”

  “Nice job.”

  “I got a compliment from the Piper, even.” Mary sat back smugly, and Amelia guessed that she was supposed to be impressed by that.

  “From the Piper,” she said cautiously. “Really?”

  “From her own lips,” Mary replied, her eyes daring Amelia to question the claim.

  “I just . . .” Amelia thought quickly. “Don’t hear of her giving out too many compliments. I’m impressed.”

  “Yeah.” Mary was trying to play it down, but real pride shined in her eyes. “Not too much impresses her or Dark Star. But I guess when you’re born in chaos, you have high standards.”

  “Too bad you had to lose a leg for it, though.”

  “It’s nothing compared to what Dark Star has given up,” she countered, sudden passion melting the defensiveness on her face. “When the new society is set up, and we’re on top, I’ll get me a solid gold leg to strut around on.”

  New society? Amelia’s mind raced. This was unusual, even coming from one of Dark Star’s pirates. But Mary’s eyes burned with the most honest intensity she’d displayed in this entire conversation.

  “Made from the Emperor’s own crown?” Amelia said quickly.

  “You said it, sister.”

  Here it was, more hostility toward the nobility and the royals, Amelia noted. This was a common refrain from the more intelligent prisoners Daring had captured, but it wasn’t just random anger toward authority—during interrogations it was specifically directed at noble officers like Liam or Ava Templegrey. Amelia herself had never felt personally targeted by the anger of their prisoners; if anything they seemed to think she was just a puppet in the bigger game. What Mary was talking about was more than just anger at those in power, though. She was talking revolution—a remaking of society. It was absurd, but a part of her actually felt some sympathy for the idea.

  Mary suddenly grabbed a cane and pushed herself out of her seat. She was quite tall, Amelia realized, and was imposing even with half a leg missing.

  “What’s taking those idiots so long?” she muttered, shuffling out from behind her desk.

  “Let’s go, I haven’t got all day!” Amelia shouted into the dim shadows of the warehouse, as an alert to her shipmates that time was up. She touched Mary’s arm to pause her advance. “Sorry, those two really are local hirelings. I picked the dumbest I could find to ensure they didn’t notice what I’m up to while I do my rounds.”

  “Yeah,” Mary said absently, freeing her arm and hobbling through the chain-link gate.

  There was a sudden crash and a shout, followed by frantic scuffling. Mary quickened her pace, nearly tripping on her peg leg, and Amelia pushed past her to run forward. She rounded a pair of stacked crates and saw Luke unconscious on the floor, a heavy sack spilling chunks of ore by his head. The angry red bump on his forehead might have been caused by a falling sack, but she guessed it was the quick work of one of Sky’s limbs. The assaulter was making a show of collecting the spilled ore and stuffing it back into the sack. Swift was just pocketing a data stick and he kept his hands in his pockets as Amelia heard Mary limp up behind her.

  “What happened?” Amelia demanded before Mary could speak.

  “We was reaching for some of those bags,” Sky said, pointing at the shelf, “and one of them fell off.”

  “Hit him right on the head,” Swift added dully.

  “Pick him up,” Amelia snapped. “Get him back to a chair.”

  Swift and Sky complied, carrying the unconscious Luke back to the cleared foyer, where they plunked him heavily into Mary’s seat. The sound of Mary’s wooden leg was still several paces away and Amelia exchanged confirming nods with her teammates. By the time Mary returned, Swift and Sky had stepped clear and adopted suitably shamefaced expressions. Under her glare, both of them dug out a few coppers and dropped them on the desk, mumbling apologies.

  “I think we’re done here,” Amelia sighed to Mary. “Hopefully his headache isn’t too bad when he wakes up.”

  Mary shook her head but said nothing.

  “Next time,” Amelia scolded, motioning for the others to precede her out the entrance, “check one of the lower bags for weight.”

  She followed Swift and Sky out into the corridor, keeping up a mild tirade as they retreated toward the promenade. When finally the corridor widened out again and they found themselves blending into the crowds, Swift slowed and turned.

  “I hope you had enough time to make friends,” he said. “Our buddy Luke went down in seconds and we were able to scan all the cargos on the list.”

  “Did you get anything useful?” Amelia asked.

  “I kept one of the ore chunks,” Sky said, revealing the bulge in her jacket pocket.

  “Encrypted signatures for all the cargos,” Swift added, patting his pocket with the data stick. “We should be able to figure out exactly who put these cargos together, and where.”

  “And then we take them down?” Sky suggested.

  “For the glory of the Empire,” he said with a scoff.

  Amelia smiled automatically, but Swift’s words rang particularly hollow to her. She was never one to question her mission, but a knot was forming deep in her gut. A knot of doubt, and she didn’t like it.

  Chapter 4

  The brig in Daring had become quite the permanent structure, Liam thought, considering it was actually nothing more than a converted cargo container bolted onto the ship’s hull. From the outside it looked like just one of a dozen bulbous additions masking Daring’s smooth lines, but inside it was a full ecosystem. Heavily guarded and permanently locked away from the rest of the ship’s interior, it was like a separate vessel hitched along for the ride.

  And it was currently full.

  Liam followed Amelia through the airlock, past the two sailors standing guard in Daring’s passageway, and greeted the next pair of guards standing inside the brig. The harsh, white light of the space was a stark contrast to the dim interior of the ship and Liam shielded his eyes as he took in the cell doors on either side of him. There were five doors on each side, with ladders and catwalks leading to a second story of cells above. When Daring had first set sail with her letter of marque Liam had thought space for twenty prisoners was excessive, but the recent capture of Black Ha
nd had filled every one of them. Five of the cells were even doubled up, each with a Human and a Theropod prisoner who were denied a translator device to minimize potential scheming.

  Liam and Amelia had been alternating with Butcher and Sky, slowly working their way through the prisoners using intel uncovered by Brown and the others to prompt specific questions. To date most of the Human prisoners had been less than helpful, either through stubbornness or sheer ignorance. The Theropods had been more willing to say what they knew—group loyalty was clearly not a dominant Theropod trait—but this willingness had been offset by a genuine lack of detailed knowledge. It seemed the Human pirates held little love for or trust in their reptilian counterparts.

  But today it was finally time to speak to their major prize, the mysterious Double Swords. Amelia led the way to the last cell door on the right, then looked up questioningly at Liam.

  “Same routine as usual?” she asked.

  “You’re always the more believable nice guy,” he replied, “although you did smash his face in.”

  “That just means he’ll take me seriously,” she said with a sweet smile.

  The guard unlocked the cell and swung the door open. Liam ducked through first, his feet kicking aside empty food bowls as he warily eyed the prisoner. The big man was sitting on his cot, and his head barely lifted as his gaze flickered over. Both his hands were manacled to heavy chains that were secured to the deck near the back of the cell. He’d been given enough freedom of movement to lie on his cot or use the toilet, but little more.

  As Amelia stepped in beside Liam, he took a moment to study the man. He was young, perhaps a few years younger than Amelia, and taller than Liam with a broad, powerful build. Even through his baggy clothes his shoulders and arms bulged with muscles, and his legs were like tree trunks. Liam might have taken him for an elite soldier, if not for his shaggy blond hair, matched now by the recent growth of a beard.

  “You have a fine crew, sir,” Liam said. “They’ve been very cooperative.”

  The man glanced up wearily, disdain etched across his features. “Torture people long enough and they’ll tell you whatever you want to hear.”

  “But that’s just the thing,” Liam replied. “They didn’t know what we wanted to hear. We just let them talk. I hope our discussion today can be as productive. It would be unfortunate if we did actually have to resort to torture.”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  Amelia crouched down, still safely out of the prisoner’s reach but able to meet his gaze.

  “But why not?” she asked. “Your battle is over, and there’s nothing to gain from making our job difficult.”

  “When Black Hand fails to appear as scheduled, my brothers and sisters will know something went wrong, and they’ll come looking for us. I just need to be patient.”

  His accent was common, Liam noted, but educated—much like that of Sublieutenant Brown’s.

  “Unfortunately,” Amelia replied, “we pulled into Windfall Station and used your code phrases to report that Black Hand is still sailing free. As far as your brothers and sisters are concerned, all is well.”

  “Don’t waste your time lying to me.”

  “I spoke with Mary. I’m aware that you know her. Noted by the Piper herself for her bravery on Pacifica. Tough lady”—she tapped her knee—“missing a leg.”

  His eyes widened in recognition, then he dropped his gaze in frustration.

  “No one’s coming for you,” Liam stated. “No one even knows you’re missing.”

  “They will,” he muttered.

  “Why would they care? You think you’re someone important?”

  He didn’t take the bait but merely stared down at his manacled hands.

  “What do they call you?” Amelia asked.

  “I think ‘whelp’ would suffice,” Liam sniffed.

  Powerful fists tightened, then relaxed. The man didn’t raise his head, but his eyes flicked to Amelia. “You can call me Blade, I suppose.”

  “I’ll grant that you’re a great swordsman,” Amelia offered, “so that makes sense. We don’t see many pirates who can swing blades like you can. I’d even guess you went to the Imperial Academy.”

  “The Academy would never accept such a ruffian,” Liam scoffed, letting his accent drip with contempt. “Only youth of good breeding are allowed into such a hallowed place.”

  “Or those who prove their worth,” Blade snapped.

  “True, I do recall us having a few commoners around to serve us when necessary. I suppose some would have found you delightful and perhaps given you some pity lessons.”

  Liam had never even been to the Academy, but he’d heard stories. And based on the sudden darkening of Blade’s expression, he guessed they were true.

  “You’re going to burn one day,” the young man muttered. “You and your entire hierarchy.”

  “What, by you? A chained prisoner from a brigand ship no one even knows is missing? Your brothers and sisters have already forgotten you, my friend. But if you cooperate we might be able to lessen your sentence before the Imperial court.”

  He let those final two words hang in the cell for a long moment. It was widely known that justice at the Imperial court was related directly to one’s noble rank. As a minor noble Liam might expect a fair hearing for himself, but for a commoner it was a certain sentence to a painful death.

  “This ship will never make it to Homeworld,” Blade said finally.

  “And why is that?”

  Blade sneered at Liam but otherwise didn’t reply.

  Amelia straightened, casting a quick look at Liam. He gave a tiny nod.

  “My lord,” she said, “may I have a minute to speak to this man alone?”

  He made a show of huffing in frustration. “There’s no point.”

  “Indulge me, my lord.”

  “Very well.” He stooped toward the cell door. “But don’t fall for any trickery!”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  Liam stepped out of the cell and cleared to the side. The door was open and the guards were present, but with the constant hum of ship systems in the background he knew Amelia would have all the privacy she needed.

  Amelia moved forward, crouching down and making a show of glancing over her shoulder.

  “Blade,” she said quietly, “I only have a few moments until that lordling starts to suspect something.”

  He glanced up, surprise clouding his youthful face. The bruising was almost gone, but his nose was askew and his cheek carried the scars from her spiked gauntlet.

  “This ship isn’t headed for Homeworld—we’re going back to Windfall. I can get a message to the Piper through Mary. What do you want me to say?”

  “What?” he said, his expression twisting in doubt.

  “They don’t know who Mary really is,” Amelia hissed, jerking her thumb back toward the cell door, “or the Piper. But it’s only a matter of time before the Navy figures out what they’re on to. I’ve been planted here for months and I’m out of the loop. Do we have a ship nearby that can mount a rescue?”

  He studied her closely, but she could tell the fatigue and stress were taking a toll on his ability to think clearly.

  “You’re with us?” he asked skeptically.

  “Yes,” she said quickly, glancing over her shoulder again. “The vision, the new society, the nobles torn down, and the Dark Star rising. I can’t wait for it to happen, but we need you and all our leaders to remain free.”

  She was groping in the dark, she knew, and just hoped that her words were imbued with enough sincerity to convince this young revolutionary.

  “We’re so close,” she added. “We can’t let this little setback slow us down.”

  “Why don’t I know you?” He wanted to believe, she could tell, but was too smart to just give in to that desire.

  “It’s a big galaxy, I guess. I was part of Mary’s enforcement team on Pacifica. I remember when that brute took her leg. I was moving to help when Mary lo
pped the thing’s head right off. I helped get her out of there but we had to scatter before the authorities closed in. This ship was in port, looking for volunteers, so I hid out right under the Navy’s nose, and I’ve been feeding what I can back to the Piper.”

  A sudden hostility flared in his eyes. “Then why did you fight me on Black Hand?”

  “Because I knew who you were,” she said, her thoughts scrambling, “and I had to keep you alive. The rest of the bridge was taken and that lordling’s crew were going to shoot you from behind. Sorry about the face”—she offered a shrug—“but it’s better than bullets in the back.”

  He frowned, staring at her.

  She glanced back toward the door, letting a touch of panic light her face. “I’m not going to have another chance to talk to you, and with the Navy holding all of Black Hand’s logs and codes, they’re going to piece it together soon enough. What ship can I contact to get us out of here?”

  He exhaled slowly, still staring at her. She held his gaze in silent pleading. Her heart was actually thumping, and she honestly wasn’t sure why.

  “Storm Wind,” he said finally. “She’s not far and she’s got a good captain.”

  “Good,” she said, letting out the breath she’d been holding. She nodded to herself, then gave him a smile. “Good. Stay strong—help is coming.”

  Liam watched as Amelia emerged from the cell.

  “There’s no point in questioning this prisoner further, my lord,” she declared.

  “No surprise,” he scoffed loudly. “Guards, seal that cell.”

  He followed Amelia out of the brig and back into the soft illumination of Daring’s lower deck. She strode with purpose and seemed agitated. They were already up two ladders and approaching the senior mess before he finally tugged at her sleeve.

  “How did it go?”

  She slowed, turning to regard him with a fiery expression.

  “Patience, Lord Blackwood,” she said, placing a finger to his lips. “I’d like to report my findings only once, and our team awaits.”

  He knew her well enough not to argue and instead opened the door to the senior mess for her. He followed her in and saw the table scattered with charts and papers, the surrounding chairs occupied by Brown, Templegrey, Butcher, and Sky.