The Star Pirate's Folly (11 page)

He must have blacked out. When his vision cleared, Hargrove
was heaving with rage astride the attacker holding the back collar of the man’s
nullsuit with his left hand and the helmet with his right. The back of his head
was smashed in, streaming blood, and Hargrove lifted the helmet to see it
spattered and smeared with red.

He dropped the helmet and the man in the nullsuit, who
flopped over onto his back. It was Jensen Lee. Half-dead eyes squinted up at
the magenta-clad hotel manager. The seasoned pirate snorted in disbelief.

“The f-fuckin’
m-manager
?” Lee’s disgusted lament
spilled from his lips with a slop of blood as he died, his head lolling back
heavy in the nullsuit.

Strong arms carried Bee with ease. Was she dreaming of
Hargrove? A sense of exhaustion overwhelmed her, but she fought to stay awake.
She was treading water—warm, relaxing water she could just slip into
and—and—drown. You’ll drown. Fight it.

Find him.

Mother’s voice rang clear, a strong arm hauling her to the
surface.

Kill him
, she said.
Kill the Starhawk.

Starhawk. The name snapped her into consciousness, the old
fire in her belly flaring white-hot. She was strapped by her ankles and wrists
to a bed in an infirmary, all shining chrome and bright lights. Bill Silver
came into focus at her feet.

“You son of a bitch,” she slurred. He drugged her. He
drugged
her.

“Willis,” Silver said. “She’s up.”

Soft fingers inspected her neck where Silver had made the
injection.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Willis said, who shot
a glare at Silver. “You’re Quartermaster, you should know this. Those sedatives
are only for use on the
crew
. You had no idea what kind of medical
history this girl’s got—and neither do I, so thanks for putting her on my
table.”

Silver shrugged. “She pulled a knife on me.”

Willis leaned in to lift Bee’s eyelid with his thumb, and
she wrenched her head away from him.

“Watch it, she already bit me,” Silver said, holding up his
bandaged wrist. “Just make sure I’m not going to…
catch
something from
her and I’m out of here.”

“Stop. Just—take me back,” Bee said. She looked to the
doctor. “Please. I don’t want to be here. Let me go back.”

“Bullshit,” Silver said. “You conned your way onto this ship
and now you want to go back?”

“I didn’t—well, I didn’t mean to—”

Silver cut her off with a harsh laugh. “Right, you
accidentally
stole it. Well it’s too late now, you’ve made your choice. We are
not
turning
around. The Captain and I have already spoken.”

“
Bill
,” Willis said, sharp and loud. “Your tests are
running. You can go.”

Silver left with a glare for both of them.

Willis shook his head. “Temper.”

“Look,” Bee said, “I don’t know what he told you, but—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Willis interrupted. “You are, although I
admit it might not seem that way to you right now, in my care. I want to get
you out of that bed as soon as possible, but first I need to make sure you’re
not going to be a harm to yourself or anyone else on this ship.”

“I’m fine.”

“You seem lucid
now,
” he agreed. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated. “Bee.”

“Alright, Bee. You got any allergies? Besides pesticide?”

Bee shrugged and let her head thump back against the bed.
The sedative was still swimming around in her system, numbing her senses.

“Bad joke, sorry. So, where you from? What’s your story?”

After a long moment, Bee found Willis’ eyes. “You know
Starhawk?”

Willis nodded and held her gaze. “We’re not friends.”

“He killed my mom a long time ago. In Overlook.”

“I see.”

“And I just left to find him.”

Willis snorted. “What were
you
gonna do?”

Bee, appalled at the doctor’s amused derision, flashed an
angry glare. The question stung, but she had no response.

“And I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but Silver’s right.
We’re not going back, which—in my medical opinion—is probably for the best.”

She knew he was right. A sudden tear slipped from Bee’s eye,
and she was glad for the doctor’s tact—he busied himself with some readouts on
his pad as she wiped the tear away with her shoulder.

“But,” Willis continued, “You’re with us until we hit Optima
at the inner edge of Styx. The Captain isn’t thrilled about having another
passenger, so when we get there we’re going to drop you off.”

“Great. Fine. Can you let me up now?”

“As long as you understand you’ll get thrown in the brig at
the slightest infraction of our rules here. Silver wanted you in there already,
but the Captain has given orders for you to have your own room, which you’ll be
confined to for the duration of the trip to Optima. Should be about a week.
Meals will be brought to you.”

“So I’m your prisoner anyway,” Bee said, tensing the
restraints.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Willis said as he unstrapped her. “Could
be worse.”

The walk through the ship to her room was a blur. Her head spun.
There was nothing she could do. Right when she finally got off-planet, the man
she’d been searching for her whole life showed up. How’s that for a screw-you
from the universe, Bee thought.

***

“Is there somewhere in here I can I look up the news?”

Willis stopped in the doorway and pointed to her pack. “Use
your pad. Only thing that works in here is the toilet. Nothing outgoing—we’ll
know.”

The room was tiny but functional—passenger quarters, he’d
said. No way they got much use out of it, though. A sink, a grime-fogged
mirror, and a toilet separated by a plastic sheet were the only decor she could
see.

“And you said this
isn’t
the brig?”

“Just don’t cause any more trouble. Silver has your knife,”
Willis said before he left.

Bee rummaged through her pack to see what else they’d taken,
but everything else was there. Even the four black nullsteel coins Slack Dog
had given her tumbled loose at the bottom. She pulled out her datapad, sat on
the edge of a pullout cot with it, and skimmed the top headlines, flicking
through articles related to the incident on Surface.

The “ghost fleet,” as they’d taken to calling it, was a
rogue pirate clan under the leadership of Starhawk. Just thinking his name
stoked her simmering rage. Most of the articles dismissed the idea of a
coalition of pirates, emphasizing that the current attacking fleet was on its
own without support and that the Core Fleet was only hours away from a
triumphant return from the asteroid belt Styx.

The pirates had made a move for the orbital station, but
lost one carrier and a few warships. The fallen carrier plummeted to Surface,
raining fire, wreckage, and escape pods onto the equatorial region near
Overlook City. Starhawk threatened to begin bombardment on the dark side of the
planet, and now it was a standoff.

A pang of fear struck when Bee saw there was another
explosion in Overlook City. Not the hotel again—!

No, it was in the emergency tunnels underneath the city—but
Jensen Lee was responsible. One killed, several others wounded. And some hero
civilian cashed in on Lee’s bounty? Jensen Lee was dead? Served him right, the
human slime. She’d have liked to shake the hand of whoever—

That couldn’t be right. Hargrove? That was his employee
photo, and right there it said hero hotel manager Hargrove Levene. How did
he—what? Her mind was reeling. There was no way Hargrove could have done that.
Levene… all those years and she never even learned his last name.

Screw them. Bee drafted a message to Hargrove.

On a ship to Optima,
she wrote.
Still alive, stay
safe. Bee.

She sent it. He had to know she wasn’t dead, or that she
hadn’t just run away after so many years of unexpected kindness. She always
knew she’d leave the hotel someday, but that wasn’t how she wanted to end things.

“You were told not to do that,” a disembodied female voice
said.

Startled, Bee jerked her head up and scanned the room before
she realized it had to be the ship’s AI. Of course.

“…Myra?” Bee ventured.

“I squelched your message,” Myra said.

“He probably thinks I’m dead,” Bee said, looking around for
the source of Myra’s voice. “Had to try.”

“Well I blocked your net access too, so I hope you got your
news fix.”

“Great.”

“Who are you, anyway?” Myra asked. “The others told me some,
but I want to hear it from you.”

“I’m nobody.”

“Alright,
Nobody
, what are you doing on my ship?”

Bee was surprised to hear the bite of sarcasm in the
computer’s voice. An astonished smile played at the edges of her mouth.

“Did you just… make a joke?” Bee asked, and put her datapad
down.

“Glad someone appreciates my sense of humor. My dazzling
witticisms usually go sailing right over these meatheads.”

Intrigued, Bee scooted further up onto the bed to get more
comfortable, put her back against the wall, and pulled her knees up to her
chest. “Tell me something about
you
first.”

“Demanding, aren’t we?” Myra said. “Well, alright. You
already know my name—and I know yours,
Bee
. I’ll tell you my age, ‘cause
you’d never guess it.”

“What is it?”

“I’m twenty.”

“That’s pretty old
for an AI, isn’t it?” Bee’s
observation leaned toward criticism.

“Well, sure, older than
most
,” Myra said with a
defensive fluster. “I’m no relic, though—I’ve been updated over the years.”

“Still, why not just buy a new one?” she said, stifling a
yawn.

Bee lay down and curled up on the cot with her back against
the wall.

“Buy a new one—! I think I’ve said enough,” came Myra’s
stony reply. “Your turn.”

“I’m—I was a concierge at the Midtown Hotel.”

“I already knew that, so it doesn’t count. Interesting turn
of events for you, though, ending up with us.”

“Story of my life,” murmured Bee. Her eyelids drooped and
she felt herself sinking into a warm comfortable slumber. Somehow nothing
mattered anymore except sleep.

“But what about before that?”

Tears she hadn’t noticed made quiet
plunks
against
the cot, sliding off her face in wet rivulets.

“Can I just go to sleep?”

Myra turned out the lights and withdrew in silence.

“She’s not well, but she’s stable. Sleeping. We talked some.”

“Myra, I asked you to leave her alone.”

“Yes, Victor, you
asked
me. If you actually wanted me
to you’d have
ordered
me to.”

“You’re always finding ways to slip around the rules.”

“Well, a girl’s got to have a little freedom.”

Silence. The Captain rose from his seat.

“Only kidding,” Myra said quickly. She tugged him back
toward the chair with a pulse of increased gravity, but he locked his knees and
shook it away. “So grumpy.”

“We did just narrowly dodge getting smeared by a comet.
We’re also half a day behind schedule, we suddenly have two extra
passengers—one of whom appears to be a genuine psychopath—
and
there’s a
fleet of bloodthirsty killers on our trail, yet you’re surprised I’m irritable?
Just do as I ask from now on.”

“Yes, Captain Anson,” Myra said with a hint of venom.

The Captain growled with frustration as he left his quarters
for the bridge. It was difficult enough just getting away from Surface, never
mind having to deal with insubordination from his own AI. Planetary Defense
could have used his ten cannons, but he had no obligation to accept their
contracts—no matter how ludicrous the amount they were willing to pay. They’d
be fine; Starhawk was suicidal to even consider an assault against the station.
And besides, the expedition was more important.

Bill Silver fell into step beside the Captain.

“Quartermaster.”

“Captain.”

“From the looks of your wrist I guess I don’t need to ask
why our passenger’s bruised up. She cut you?” Captain Anson asked.

“No, sir, she bit me on the shuttle. But back on the station
I had to chase her down. She stole Slack Dog’s pad out of my pocket right after
she sold it to me.”

The Captain smirked. “Kids these days. It’s a shame about
Slack Dog—sounds like he died happy though.”

“At least he got us the map,” Silver said. “Has Myra looked
at it yet?”

“She’s decrypted most of the coordinates, but she’s not sure
if they point to anything promising yet.”

“Six and a half days to Optima—plenty of time to plot a
course along the way. Would’ve been cheaper to stock up on supplies back at
Surface, but we can eat the extra cost.”

“Twenty years ago I might have stayed and fought,” the
Captain said as they walked together up the short ramp to the bridge. “More of
a pragmatist these days.”

“Starhawk’s assault on the station failed,” Silver said.
“They’ve still got two carriers and seventeen warships in orbit, but they lost
about a third of their firepower. And Jensen Lee got killed trying to hole up
in a bombardment shelter.”

“I heard. Keeps them from getting their hands on another
copy of the map. How’s our esteemed Governor doing?”

“In his quarters—probably changing his underwear. Did you
know he’s
never
been off planet before?”

Victor laughed. “You know, I think I read that somewhere.”

Sliding doors parted for them and Silver entered behind
Captain Anson.

“Smooth sailing, I hope,” the Captain said to Ferro.

“Straight shot to Optima,” the pilot said with a casual
salute. “Myra’s done most of the work so far.”

“So what am I paying you for?”

Robin bristled at the remark and straightened in her chair,
wrenching her frosty blue glare away from the displays in front of her. “Well
for a long-range shot like this it’s mostly auto, but—”

“Relax, I’m kidding,” Captain Anson said. “You came highly
recommended. Been through the belt solo before?”

He knew her history already, but he liked to get these
things out in the open. It was one thing to read the pilot’s record, and a
whole other thing to hear it from her own mouth.

“Only as a hauler caravan, and never all the way across.
Twelve cargo ships, four escort frigates—two weeks in, two weeks out. Scored a
couple of M-types, no action.”

“Whole new experience when you’re just one speck out there,”
Captain Anson said. “We’ll use our time in transit to plot a course to our
first target. Given our reputation on Optima it’s best we make our visit brief
and quiet.”

“Shouldn’t take more than a few hours if we make
arrangements on the way,” Silver said. “I can have most of what we need waiting
for us at the dock when we get there.”

“Anything for expedience,” the Captain said. “The sooner we
get rid of our passengers and load up the better—we’re in for a long float.”

***

Myra ended several tasks in progress across the ship after
the Captain’s rebuke. It wasn’t a lack of resources—Myra constantly juggled tertiary
tasks in addition to ensuring
Wanderlust
maintained course and kept its
organic passengers breathing.

She could easily have continued her conversation with Willis,
run Spud’s specialized target practice set in the nullroom, and finished
recalibrating some of the infirmary’s outdated diagnostic tools. She just
wanted the crew to feel her silence.

Willis frowned and ignored Myra’s abrupt departure from
their discussion by resuming his news video. Spud crouched in full suit against
the wall of the pitch-dark nullroom and lowered his hardlight training rifle,
confused and disoriented.

“Ship lady?” came Spud’s fearful whimper.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Spud,” Myra crooned into his helmet. It felt
good to be needed. She resumed his set for him and hardlight targets burst back
into existence, whirling around the nullroom in erratic choreography.

Spud’s face lit up with glee inside his suit as he snapped
rifle to shoulder and resumed firing. Three quick bursts and a yellow hardlight
model of a warship lost control and crashed against the floor into glassy
pieces.

“Thank you ship lady!” Spud roared with laughter as he
launched off the wall into a twisting somersault, peppering two other ships
with bullets before making a perfect rebound off the opposite wall.

Spud’s unrestrained exuberance cooled Myra’s temper. She
wasn’t sure what exactly it was about laughter that made her happy, but she’d
already filed away the recording of Spud’s reaction to examine in detail later.
She also saved his childlike whimper of terror from when the lights went out,
planning to compare it to older samples.

The fear wasn’t as bad as it used to be—a few years of
cognitive behavioral therapy under Willis had taken care of the worst of it.
Myra wondered if it was cruel to expose the simple giant to his phobia for her
own emotional demands, but somewhere in her programming was a chunk of code
that permitted the action. The Captain’s voice brought her focus back to the
bridge.

“Myra, any update on Surface?” Captain Anson asked.

“Yes, Captain,” she said. “The carrier they lost in the
attack is still intact and it’s entering the upper atmosphere of Surface. Looks
like they’re guiding it toward Overlook City.”

“Hate to be one of those groundhogs stuck under there,” he
muttered.

Myra studied the Captain from an eye-level lens as he
discussed the supply list with Silver. Victor Anson had transformed during the
years she had on record. Myra superimposed younger renderings of Victor beside
the real thing, watching the differences emerge.

He’d lost his warrior’s physique to the slow drag of
artificial gravity and a lack of effort combating it; his figure had a curve of
softness where before only lean muscle rippled under skin. Victor’s age was
showing.

There was also a certain slump in his shoulders the younger
Victor never allowed, and a degree of sloppiness in appearance—his brown hair
was unkempt and lengthy compared to the neat three-millimeter trim he once
favored. Myra chalked it up to less time spent in a suit and more in the
comfort of his ship.

“Captain,” Myra said, interrupting his conversation with the
Quartermaster. “I found out what the coordinates from the map are pointing to.”

“Show me,” Victor said.

Myra projected a window in front of Victor, Silver, and
Robin. On it was a live map of their six-planet system, Lux burning white in
the center.
Wanderlust
appeared as a sky-blue wire frame between Surface
and the asteroid belt Styx. The vast open expanse of the belt separated the
Core from the three outer planets.

Myra zoomed the map in and highlighted in red the three sets
of coordinates she’d identified from the map. Two were close to Optima, barely
a quarter of the way across Styx—less than a month’s journey from the
settlement. The third was near the middle of the belt, and much farther ahead
in its orbit than Optima.

“The coordinates point to these three D-type asteroids. It’s
unusual to see D-types this close to Lux—most come from the comet cloud at the
edge of the system.”

“You got a theory? I think I hear a theory coming on.”

“Yes, and you’re not going to like it,” Myra said, and a
cloud of scattered white points appeared on the map. Many clustered near the
coordinates highlighted in red. “First look at this. That’s every reported
pirate attack in the sector over the past year.”

“Nothing’s ever easy,” grumbled the Captain.

“As far as the record shows no one’s ever gotten near any of
those rocks with the equipment needed to do a composition analysis. They’ve
never been touched. It’s difficult to say whether the pirates are actively protecting
them or if they’re just using them as launch points for raids. Either way it
means we don’t stand a chance alone.”

Silver nodded. “I agree.”

“The Core Fleet just swept the belt clean though,” Victor
said. “You really think they’d still be making raids so close to Optima after
getting thrashed like that?”

“Hmm,” Silver said, frowning. “It’s possible they don’t have
the men for it anymore, especially with Starhawk taking so many. This could be
our best chance. Stars know it’s going to be a long time before the Core Fleet
comes out this far again.”

“Otherwise we’ll have to hire more ships, take a smaller
cut. We’ll need to overhaul our supply list, then,” Victor said, and flicked
the list into Myra’s window.

“Hey!” Myra objected, and brought her map back on screen.
“That is
not
what I was trying to say! Now if you’ll let me finish—the
nearest asteroid has twenty reported incidents within a hundred thousand miles
just in the past month and that’s
after
the Fleet swept through.”

Victor scowled. “Now you’re being difficult. Of course it’s
going to be dangerous. But we’re well equipped in case you’d forgotten our ten
cannons, and we can outrun any raiding party they can throw at us.”

Ferro turned in her seat to address the Captain. “If you
don’t think she can handle it I’m happy to take over—”

Captain Anson started to protest Ferro’s offer and Myra
laughed.

“Oh no—by all means, go ahead,” Myra said, and stopped
managing
Wanderlust’s
course. She couldn’t resist giving it a little
starboard roll out of spite, and the view of the stars on the bridge spun
sideways.

For a moment
Wanderlust
coasted off course and
warning messages flooded the bridge’s screens. Victor had just jumped into the
captain’s chair to pilot when Robin Ferro recovered
Wanderlust
with
grace, continuing the roll and bringing the ship’s nose back up, settling
gently back onto its previous course.

For a long moment like vertigo no one said anything.

“Myra, was that really necessary?” Captain Anson demanded.

No reply.

“
Myra
.” Nothing. Unbelievable. He shook his head and
headed for the door. She was out of control. “Bill, you’ve got the bridge.”

“Alright,” Bill said as he eased into the captain’s chair
next to Ferro. He nudged her shoulder with his elbow as he passed. “Pretty
slick, Ferro, pretty slick.”

***

“Myra, you’re overreacting,” Victor said as he poured
himself a glass of lotus wine.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Myra snapped. “
You
wanted me like this.”

“I’m the Captain of this ship. If I can’t even keep control
of my own
hardware
—”

“Hardware, is that what I am now? Well, maybe I’m
faulty
!
Maybe you should just
replace
me!”

Victor took a long drink and refilled his glass. The sweet
warmth of lotus left a pleasant tingle on its way down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t
mean that. You’re not just hardware—you know that.”

“Thank you,” Myra said.

“You’re software too.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

She was calm, the fire put out of her. Victor could almost
hear the pout in her voice. He’d have to do some digging in her logs and find
out exactly what it was that triggered her outburst. Myra never was any good at
articulating her emotions, so he wouldn’t bother riling her up again.

“Tell me some more about these unusual asteroids,” he said,
kicking off his boots.

“I would have been done explaining it to you by now if you’d
let me before.”

Victor waved his glass in a circular hurry-up gesture, the
red-violet liquid swishing just to the upper edge. “So tell me.”

“The pirates are going to be enough of a problem—which I
don’t think you’re taking seriously. But besides that, none of the asteroids on
this map appear on the record prior to 2302. Before that, nothing. They were
never there.”