Hozark's Revenge

by Scott Baron

  Demelza walked the perimeter, slowly visiting vendors, acquiring a few goods to help her fit in as a shopper, all while making detailed mental note of the symbols and glyphs on the walls. But most seemed to be near identical to what she’d seen on Muck. The stories were the same, with a few small variations, as one would expect in diverse systems.

  She made a complete circuit of the building’s walls, but was no closer to an answer. The flooring was simple stone, and though there were signs of markings having been carved into them at one time, they were long since worn by centuries of footfall upon them. The ceiling was decorated, but a series of arches truncated sections and prevented a clear view of the entire place from one location.

  It was not until the completion of her careful search grid, all under the guise of shopping, that she arrived at the central-most of the tented stalls. It was an open area of the floor, far from any columns, and there was clearly nothing of use for her. The stones had been worn so flat from all of the foot traffic over the years they may as well have been hewn smooth.

  One thing caught her eye, though. A solid, heavy anvil at what appeared to be the dead center of the building. At first, she thought it surprising no one had taken it over the years. The sect it belonged to was long gone, after all. But then she noted the base.

  The metal, it seemed, ran through the floor and into the structure of the building itself. And it still possessed a small magical charge to it. Suddenly, it made sense. If any had ripped it free, the ensuing damage to the building might very well have taken the whole thing down with it.

  She walked right up to the anvil and bent close, only to be disappointed with what she found. It was like the one she had seen on Muck, and the markings were exactly the same. No new information for her here, it seemed.

  Demelza was beginning to wonder if she had misinterpreted the scroll’s text somehow when a slight shift in the magical light illuminated the dim ceiling a bit better. Standing at the anvil, there was no tapestry hung over her head, affording her a clear view upward. With all of the tents being covered areas, their lighting had remained contained within, not brightening the building itself.

  Demelza quietly cast upward. An illumination spell directed right at the ceiling. Unless the vendors sliced open their tents and looked up, it would likely go entirely unnoticed. But from her lone unobstructed vantage point at the one place no one could set up a stand, she could see what others would miss.

  The sigils stood out clearly now that she knew what to look for. Slowly, she spun in place, looking up and taking careful note of the new symbols. It quickly became clear what she was looking at. This was an old temple. A very old one, in fact. And on the ceiling, a form of star chart was laid out, but with ancient, long-forgotten names of planets and systems.

  This particular building was not just a temple, but also a hub. A place from which she could backtrack to even older temples of the sect. But there was just one problem. She could navigate through space quite well, but this was far beyond her skills as a Ghalian. There were uncharted systems included, and lines of spell jumps that were utterly unfamiliar to her. She couldn’t help but wonder if the others were having as difficult a time as she was, wherever they were, whatever they were doing.

  But that was neither here nor there. Her next steps were clear. Demelza, it seemed, had found a map, but one that needed a guide to go with it. She was going to have to seek out a navigator.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Breach the hull the moment we cast the grappling spells,” Bud said as he triple-checked his bandolier of weapons.

  The others in the small pirate attack craft were doing the same. A hardy bunch, all of them, and each armed to the teeth and ready for mayhem.

  “Yes, Bud, I know,” Saramin replied, surprisingly calm for his young age.

  He had been rapidly rising in the ranks of Captain Lalaynia’s crew, and before entering his twentieth year he was already the official leader of a boarding squad. Of course, in this instance Uzabud had been given his old position back and was leading the charge, but only with Saramin’s tacit agreement.

  Bud realized he might be stepping on toes just a bit, but he knew Saramin could handle it. The young man had impressed the hell out of him with not only his prowess, but also his calm manner under fire. He’d make a damn fine captain one day. So long as he avoided capture and the gladiator arenas where their kind so often wound up, that is.

  This particular assault was not the sort of thing that would land any of them in control collars, though. Not today. For a while now Lalaynia had been helping Bud on his search for Henni, but she also needed to pay her crew. When a Tslavar mercenary supply ship came to their attention, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. Not only to keep the crew happy, but also to resupply her ship without needing to land. And if they could rid the galaxy of a few of those Tslavar bastards in the process, all the better.

  The green-skinned Tslavars might not have always been mercenaries for the Council of Twenty, but even before that particular bit of employment they had nevertheless enjoyed a rather violent reputation.

  Normally, Bud was loath to paint an entire race with a broad brush. There were good and bad in all cultures, after all. But the Tslavars were so tribal and vicious in their nature, he had never in his many days encountered one he would truly call kind or friendly. At least, not to any non-Tslavar.

  “Bud, we’ll be on them in under a minute,” Saramin called out. “The rest of you, nut up. These are Tslavar mercs, not some casual transport crew, so stay sharp. Never leave an enemy standing behind you. We clear?”

  “Clear!” the men replied in unison.

  Bud nodded his approval. “You’ve come a long way, since we first met.”

  “As have you,” the young pirate said with a grin. “Now, get your game face on.”

  “Isn’t that my line, kid?”

  “It is if you’re quick enough, old-timer.”

  “Old-timer? Hey, now that’s just mean.”

  Saramin’s grin cracked wider. Then he became very serious. “We have contact in twenty seconds,” he called out.

  The small pirate craft’s pilot was skilled, pulling up sharply just before contact so as not to disturb the target ship’s hull at all. Saramin cast the docking spell and quickly put the first umbilical spell in place. Others would reinforce the invisible airway linking the ships as they passed through once the vessel’s skin had been breached and the first men had made it aboard.

  It was pirate rules fighting from there on out. Protect your men, watch your back, leave no one injured and able to attack behind, and above all, do not use magical attacks. Lalaynia’s men had been in the game a great many years, and were all well-versed with what could go wrong if that happened.

  “You ready?” Bud asked as the spell pried the target ship’s hull open.

  The stream of men leaping through the forced entryway answered that for him quick enough. He jumped in, Saramin right on his tail. A pair of sentries remained behind just in case the heavy warding spells keeping their enemies from crawling up through their accessway failed.

  If all went well, this would be over too fast for that to even be a concern.

  More accustomed to straight-up assaults with Hozark, Bud hadn’t been in a true pirating situation in some time, and for the first few moments, it felt almost foreign to him, watching his comrades loot as they fought. But muscle memory quickly kicked in, thanks largely to the pair of Tslavar mercenaries who were very actively trying to remove his head from his shoulders. And pirates knew a thing or two about fighting dirty.

  Bud dove low, slicing the knees of the nearest attacker then driving his dagger up under the falling man’s jaw, putting an end to him quickly and efficiently. He didn’t sit around to enjoy his little victory. Bud threw himself forward and rolled aside, bringing up his sword to deflect whatever attack the other assailant might bring.

  The second man dropped on top of the first, a nasty hole in his chest where Saram
in’s sword had done its work.

  Bud nodded to the young man and wasted no time, leaping back into the fray with the others. It was almost cathartic getting to release his pent-up aggression without reserve.

  He’d been upset at what had happened to Henni but had really been limited to roughing up a handful of potential leads. But now he was finally able to let loose, and he soon had a trail of fallen mercenaries in his wake.

  “Command!” Saramin shouted to him, then took off running toward the ship’s base of operations.

  Bud immediately fell in behind him, the two picking up a few more of their men and women along the way. The command center was well defended when they arrived, several of their comrades having already been chipping away at the Tslavar defenses as best they could.

  But it was a tight access point, undoubtedly designed that way for precisely this sort of occurrence. They might eventually force their way in, but it would be at the cost of far too many lives.

  “Shit. This is bad,” Saramin muttered. “Bud, what do you think? Is there any way to push past them?”

  Bud hadn’t been a pirate in ages, and the siege and seizure of a ship’s bridge was no longer his strong suit. He scanned the area, hoping for an alternative. Fighting had been brutal, the pirates and mercenaries having flung one another into the walls with great force as they fought. He stared at the carnage a long moment in thought when something unusual caught his eye.

  This ship was a Tslavar ship, but it was also meant for resupplying their mercenary forces. And before they had gone all-in with the Council of Twenty, they would likely have faced scrutiny at some ports of call. Bud turned and rushed back the way they came.

  “Bud? Where the hell are you going?” Saramin called after him. “Shit. Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he told the others, then followed his friend as quickly as he could.

  He found the smuggler at the next corridor over, his back against the wall for cover, just in case, while he studied the walls and floor of the ship.

  “What are you doing? We need to––”

  “Shh. Gimme a sec, here.”

  “Bud!”

  “Hang on, I think I’ve almost… yeah, there it is. Got it, you bastards!” He was grinning like a madman as he leaned down and slid his konus onto his wrist.

  “You can’t cast in here! You know the danger using one in space-based combat. You could kill us all!”

  Bud ignored him, and the konus began feeding his quietly spoken spell power. “I’m not fighting, kid. This is something else,” he replied with a growing grin. “And I think you’re gonna like it.”

  A faint seam suddenly appeared in the floor’s smooth surface about a meter square in size. Bud cast a clamping spell and lifted it free. Saramin was shocked, to say the least.

  “Where did that come from? How the hell did you do that?”

  “I’m a smuggler now, remember? And this is an older model Tslavar ship. One that might have needed to hide certain cargo at one point in time. And you know what? If I’m not mistaken, this little network of hidey-holes connects to command. So, if you’re not too busy,” he said, then jumped down into the hole, his weapons ready for a fight.

  Saramin quickly rounded up a small group of their best fighters and followed him into the crawlspace. They moved as quickly as possible, right on Bud’s heels. He stopped abruptly and put his hand on the smooth panel above him.

  “This is it,” he whispered. “We’re gonna have to move fast and act with decisive brutality. Killing strokes only. Until we’re all clear of this bottleneck, we’re vulnerable, so the first out have to make it count. Got it?”

  The pirates nodded.

  Bud held up his hand and began quietly casting the spell to unlock the floor. He knew the mercenaries above them wouldn’t be looking down. Not with all the mayhem just outside their door. All of their attention would be focused on that. All he could do was hope none of them happened to be standing atop this particular section.

  So far as he could gauge, given the model of the ship, they would be coming up at the end of the command center farthest from the lone entryway. If he was right, that would hopefully put them out of the defenders’ line of sight for at least a few moments. And if they moved quickly and quietly enough, they could hopefully take out several before the real fighting began.

  “On three,” he said, raising his fingers, then silently counted down.

  The floor section lifted easily, he was pleased to note, and when he pushed it aside enough to get a peek out, he saw a trio of nearby Tslavar crewmembers, but all with their backs to him. It looked like he was right, and the fighting at the entryway had all of their attention. They simply didn’t expect anyone to come at them from a direction with no doorway. It wasn’t possible.

  Or so they thought.

  The first two went down in a gurgling heap as daggers did their close-up work. The third nearest the covert access, however, turned in time to call out an alarm to his comrades before a brutal sword stroke silenced him forever.

  The pirates had almost entirely cleared the opening by that point and were already moving on the command center crew with brutal efficiency. The guards protecting the entryway from just outside of command heard the ruckus, but they didn’t know what to do. The attackers were pressing on them from down the corridor, but it sounded a hell of a lot like a full-fledged battle going on inside the chamber.

  Finally, a pair of them came back inside to see what was going on. One managed to turn to call a warning to his comrades outside before being run through with a wicked-looking blade. The other was not so lucky, falling silent at the skilled hands of Saramin almost as soon as he entered the room.

  From that point it was a mismatched clean up, and within but a few minutes both the corridor and command were taken.

  “The ship is ours!” Saramin transmitted over the boarding team’s group skree. “Round up any survivors. Offer them one chance to surrender. Kill any who still fight.”

  It was a brutal command, but it served two purposes. One, it was simply the way pirates treated Council forces and their lackeys. And two, it had been sent over open skrees, meaning the order could be heard clearly throughout the ship. If any had hopes of survival, this was their one opportunity.

  Saramin’s team wound up with a half dozen survivors in custody. They’d be sold off as gladiator fodder, no doubt. A fitting end for the Tslavar goons. As for the ship, they now possessed a fairly well-stocked craft to bring back to the rendezvous point. Lalaynia would be pleased.

  “Not the best ever, but still, not a bad haul,” Saramin said, clapping Bud on the shoulder. “And nice work, that bit with the floor. You saved a lot of lives with that trick.”

  Bud nodded, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. “So, I just wanted to reiterate that my share of our haul will help fund the captain’s support of my search for Henni, right?”

  “That’s what she said. So long as the crew is paid and fed, she’s at your service.”

  “And any pillage beyond the regular cargo is still first come, first served, correct?”

  “Yep. You can go rifle pockets and crew quarters to your heart’s content,” Saramin replied.

  “What about other things? Not cargo, but perhaps other valuables located aboard?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by that. I would think so, but that’s a question for Captain Lalaynia. What did you have in mind?”

  “I’ll run it by her when we meet up,” Bud replied.

  An hour later, the pirate craft and its captured prize arrived at the rendezvous point on the far side of a small moon in a rather boring system. The perfect place to avoid prying eyes.

  “Nicely done, gentlemen,” Lalaynia said as she walked the newly captured craft. “Very nice indeed.”

  “Captain, Bud had a question for you about his share and rights of plunder.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” Bud said. “Beyond the cargo, whatever we dig up is ours to keep per your rules, correct?
”

  “Yes.”

  “And my share of the main cargo prize is going toward expenses for your providing your services while I hunt Henni, yes?”

  “You know it is, Bud. What are you getting at?” Lalaynia asked.

  “I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page, is all,” he replied. “So, I’ve bought a little bit more time with my share of this haul.”

  “That you have.”

  “Well then, how about you tell me how much more this will buy me?” he asked, then cast an unusual little spell.

  Seams suddenly appeared in the walls and floors all across the ship. A few even revealed themselves in the ceiling directly above them. Lalaynia pulled one open, revealing a small smuggler’s cargo hideaway jammed with contraband. Despite working for the Council, it seemed the Tslavars were running a little side venture. She assumed the other compartments were likewise filled.

  The pirate captain let out a truly amused laugh. “Oh, Bud. This is why I miss having you around. You always did have the best surprises up your sleeve. But why did your search spell work and not ours?”

  “A smuggler’s specialty,” he replied. “Given the nature of this ship’s earlier life, I figured it was set up a bit differently than most. Something my particular skill-set helped me suss out.”

  “Designed to avoid those looking for hiding spots,” she said.

  “Yep. But it just so happens that hiding stuff is my profession. So, about that additional flight time.”

  Lalaynia grinned. “You’ve earned more than your keep today, Bud. Very, very well done indeed. This will buy you quite a bit more than just a few more days of my assistance. So, what’ll it be? You’ve seen the intel my people have been able to dig up. We have quite a few options, but nothing really solid. So, tell me. You obviously don’t wish to overlap Hozark and his friends’ efforts. Where would you like to head next?”