NASTRAGULL: Pirates (45 page)

"Spare me, Alec, I know all too well that bullshit they teach you at the Academy—and I also know that most of its just propaganda. Most of you kids are from wealthy Elite families, and will never see any real action."

"We've seen it now, sir." Alec struggled to keep horrible memories locked in the back of his mind; especially the memory of Jack's fate. He realized very well what madness his little expedition actually represented; but something told him that he had to go on. Something deep inside of him had been awakened; he didn't know or understand what it was, but every time he thought of it, it filled him like a heady elixir. He craved for something to exhilarate his soul, it seemed; and perhaps, in some perverse way, it represented some type of satisfaction. He didn't know what it was he felt that he was missing; he just knew he had to do what he was doing.

Admiral Busch noticed the look in Alec's eyes, and his expression changed to one of concern. "Alec, your way of thinking and your actions honor you and your family, but they will not give you any credit in life. I understand what you're going through, and..."

"You understand shit," Alec hissed at Busch, catching the Admiral off guard. "They
ate
Jack. The monsters
ate him
while keeping him alive as long as possible, so they could prolong his agony. I killed him before I managed to escape, you hear me? He asked me to...or what was left of him did." He was panting, controlling himself with great difficult. "Uncle Alistair, I, we were the prisoners of monstrous pirates, all but slaves, and if you only knew what they did to us...and what I have been through since..."

His eyes flicked toward Nina and Tara, who looked like they wanted to vanish into their own boots.

Busch swallowed hard. "Alec, gather yourself. After all, you are an officer in the Nastasturan milit..." He broke off as Alec ripped open his jacket and shirt.

"They branded me!
Look
at it!"

Admiral Busch looked at Alec's scarred chest, which displayed the branded image of a circle with a triangle fitted inside, with the letter A inside that. His expression cycled from extreme sadness to cold, hard hate in an instant, and he whispered, "They branded you...?"

"Yes sir, they did." Alec buttoned his uniform tunic over his ruined shirt and stood tall, crisply saluting his superior officer. "Brevet General Alec Hornet of the Nastasturus Federation Army reporting, sir. Lieutenant Admiral Busch, it is my duty to inform you that an act of piracy and an act of conspiracy entered into and condoned by representatives of the Federated Merchants and the Commercial Traders has been perpetrated against the Nastasturus Federation and nearly ten thousand of its citizens. It is also my duty to inform you that under the Nastasturan laws against piracy, I am automatically commissioned to hunt down these perpetrators and obtain evidence to support such claim for a period of one year."

Alec fell silent, staring straight forward.

"At ease," Admiral Busch muttered, "we don't want to make a scene."

Alec relaxed and focused his eyes on Admiral Busch, who looked at him speculatively and said, "A declaration of war status by a high-ranking military officer does not apply in any neutral territory, even if an act of piracy occurs. It can apply only within our own territory, or that of our allies."

"It applies, sir, if the either the Merchants or Traders are implicated," Alec countered. "Military Code 36 CFR 60.4, Section 106, paragraph b."

Busch nodded. "You're right. What is your evidence?"

"Here's my primary evidence, gathered over the past 28 years by someone I trust. For various reasons, the individual has been too afraid to step forward until now." Alec popped a coin-sized disk from his wristcomp and handed it to the Admiral, who slipped it into one of his breast pockets. "Besides that," Alec continued, "when I escaped from the pirates, I happened to come across several other lines of evidence implicating the Traders and Merchants. I've hidden my documentation of that evidence in a secured location. And," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "I was also able to get my hands on some of their treasure."

Admiral Busch turned to the viewport, and gazed out into the Big Dark. "I take it that this treasure of yours is worth quite a sum?"

"More than you can dream of."

"I see." Busch turned back toward Alec. "I can't wait to hear your story—or to see your uncle's face, when I report having found you."

Alec nodded, thoughtful. "But sir, will you get in any trouble, if you let me act on my claim?"

Busch snorted. "That's a loaded question. On one hand, I'm required to allow you to chase your claim, assuming you're right about our law, and I suspect you are. On the other hand, your uncle will be pissed. Unless I can convince him otherwise, he'll come for you himself."

"I was afraid of that. Is his fleet far away?"

"No, the fleet is quite nearby, but... let me think."

Most of the guests had seated themselves by now, and a servant approached, advising Alec and Busch to take their own seats. Busch gave the servant a short but firm suggestion about where she could go, and she decided to turn her attention to more appreciative guests.

Admiral Busch turned to Alec with a serious expression. "Tell me your plan, son. If I like it I'll support it, and I'll do what I can to stall your uncle until he keelhauls me." Then he strode off toward the banquet tables as Alec followed.

There was a minor scuffle regarding the seating when Admiral Busch demanded to sit next to Alec, but it was quickly sorted out. On each side of them sat Tara and Nina, each apparently having the time of her life. Their young beauty attracted many hungry eyes—male and female—that they completely ignored, being far too busy inhaling all the glamour around them. An old Major from a distant minor federation and his wife sat next to Nina. After an exchange of pleasantries, the Major asked, "My, my, what a lovely young woman you are. Tell me, dear, what sort of trade is your dinner escort involved in?"

"Don't know," Nina answered with her mouth full of food.

"Oh, perhaps you're just his temporary escort?" the old man sniffed.

"No, not really."

Nina fiddled with one of the tools in front of her, trying to understand how to use it on the hard-shelled crustacean on her plate. The Major, meanwhile, became frustrated, and he leaned toward her, his face red. His wife grabbed his arm as he shook loose and continued, "You don't seem to know much, now do you? Do you know what trade
you
are in?"

Nina answered, with her tongue between her teeth as she struggled with the idiotic shell, "Well, not really. Not anymore." Just then, the shell decided to revolt, and slipped away at high
speed toward the central island, where the chefs were busily creating the next course. It struck one of the chefs between his eyes, sending him crashing to the floor, dragging several of his assistants with him.

Nina looked puzzled, then turned to the Major and said loudly into the sudden silence, "Well, I used to be a pirate." The Major and his wife stared at Nina in disbelief as she said to the chef in front of her, "Hey, you, that shell's mine. Can you toss it back to me?"

The Major smiled and was about to continue the conversation with what he thought was a prostitute—and a liar with no manners—when he was faced with a pair of dark blue eyes that silently informed him to mind his own business. When the old man looked hurriedly away, Alec transferred his own shelled delicacy to Nina's plate. Then, with a surgeon's skill, and to her childlike delight, he flipped the shell open with the tool provided.

By the third course, Tara and Nina had gotten over most of their shyness and were enjoying the dinner tremendously. Alec and Busch, however, were involved in a deep, quiet conversation and neither paid much attention to any of the fifteen dishes they were served. Alec made gestures with his hands several times during the conversation, while Busch played with his fork and listened intently without displaying any emotion.

When Alec made a brief pause to sip some water, Busch stiffened and dropped his fork on his plate, leaning toward Alec and scowling as if to say, "Now? Right
now
?" Alec nodded as he kept drinking.

Wolf and Frances, accompanied by ten of the Grisamm monks, drifted like shadows through the private cruiser's corridors. At the first junction, they split up in three groups and, in two-by-two formation, preceded towards their respective objectives.

They had confirmed, only hours before, that the eccentric art dealer Zoris Af Sun had in fact purchased a slave fitting Alexa's description. The trader who had served as their contact had also provided valuable information on the layout of Zoris' ship, which matched up precisely with what Tota had already provided. Since Zoris was attending the same event that Alec was, there could be no better time to reclaim the young woman. Thus emboldened, they moved forward with the operation.

No one questioned Alec's motives in risking the entire enterprise with this action, though they all suspected that said motives were more personal than professional. He had given them the excuse that this Alexa would be able to find Zuzack, or at least serve as bait to attract him. The fact that they had almost two hundred other former pirates in their custody who might be able to find Zuzack was something often thought about, but never mentioned in Alec's presence. Besides, most of the people involved considered this a minor operation that offered a chance for a little fun after a long, boring stretch of training.

Alexa lay on her stomach, enjoying a warm oil massage from one of the male servants. She still thought this must be hell. She was so aroused she was shaking, but none of the boys wanted to have sex with her.

"If you only know what I would do to you, Clen," she teased. She started in on very detailed story on how and what she could do to him with her mouth and tongue, but it was to no avail.
Bastard must be a eunuch,
she thought,
or maybe he only likes men.
She closed her eyes.

The hands stopped massaging her a moment later, and Alexa made a little sound of protest. Then the hands were back, and she stretched herself while yawning, "No, not there, Clen, lower..."

"Is that her?" a stern voice demanded.

"Check her. Hurry," said another voice.

That's when Alexa realized that the hands on her back had changed their size and texture. They were larger and rougher, and instead of soft skin touching hers, these hands wore gloves. Before she could process that, the towel around her waist was yanked off her while another hand touched the brand on her left buttock that her knight had left her with. Another voice said, "It's her. Take her."

Alexa reacted instantly, prepared to fight for her life—but someone had the audacity to shove a needle or something into her right buttock before she'd moved more than a few centimeters. She felt a hard sting, and then her body refused to obey her; and a second later, everything turned black.

The monk looked at Wolf as he rolled the girl into a thick blanket, and they smiled at each other. Alexa had almost ruined her own rescue. Wolf hefted the girl over his shoulder, and the two hurried down the cruiser's corridors, passing the pool room, where several servants and slaves were sleeping an unnatural sleep. Several more monks meet up with them at a bend in the corridor, and they all hurried together to a round opening in the bulkhead. Moving quickly, they carried Alexa into the tiny rounded chamber beyond, and were joined by four of the monks. It was a tight fit, but they wouldn't have to be in each other’s pockets for long. After securing the hatch, the remaining monks watched as the escape pod blasted free of the cruiser and accelerated away into space. Seconds later, the pod was intercepted by a small shuttle, which caught it in a tractor beam and brought it aboard before accelerating at full throttle toward the inner system.

"Our turn. Let's move," Frances ordered as he ran lightly down the corridor, followed by his colleagues. They met up two other monks on the way, and all of them found their way into a second escape pod. As the hatch sealed, the Grisamm soldiers braced themselves for acceleration—but nothing happened.

"They must have locked the pods down after the first one launched," one of the monks said quietly, stating the obvious.

"Can you override it?" Frances asked calmly, glancing at the man as he popped a panel off the bulkhead and started peering into its guts.

"Nossir, not from in here. I'd need access to the ship's mainframe."

"Plan B," Frances said, as he pressed a button on his wristcomp. "Gaius, activate the beacon."

"Yes sir." The youngest monk pulled a slender rod from his sleeve and bent it in his hands. Both ends of the beacon immediately began to flash a brilliant white.

A millisecond later, an explosion inside the cruiser  vibrated through the hull, causing several escape pods, including the one Francis and his men were on, to launch automatically. Immediately, their pod was intercepted by a second shuttle, when drew them in and then launched itself on a circuitous and confusing course through the various orbits of the space stations that made up the outpost. Once they were convinced they had shaken off any possible pursuit—not that there had been any that they could discern—-they rendezvoused with the other shuttle behind a small asteroid further in-system.