Pirate Stars

by Andrew van Aardvark

  "That will do," Captain Lee said. "Chief Engineer McKittrick?" she asked looking at her Chief Engineer Calem McKittrick seated to Jeannie's right.

  "Engineering is in superb shape," McKittrick said. "I almost hate to say it for fear of Murphy and whatever other powers may be, but Chang's Venture is straight out of refit in our own yards, and I've rarely seen a ship whose equipment is in such good shape. Everything, engines, life support, generators, the communications network, support gear in the laundry and galley, is all working within nominal specs and so is all the back-up equipment. We're fully stocked on consumables and spare parts, and we have a full crew that's both qualified and experienced. We'll never be readier than we are."

  "Thank you, Chief," Captain Lee replied. "Purser?" she said looking down table at Sim Seif, Chang's Venture's purser.

  "Accounts and paperwork all in order," Purser Seif responded. "Gold, gems, Federation bonds, etc., currency and currency substitutes all in amounts specified in secure storage and accounted for. All clearances, licenses, and introductions that might be useful have been obtained. Data including local news, prices and other economic news stored and indexed. Recent entertainment, books and vids mostly and blank data chips to take what's requested has been stored onboard. Our network has been audited for security. We're ready to go."

  "Excellent," Captain Lee said. She turned to Jeannie, "Owner Chang, the Chang's Venture is ready for departure."

  "Thank you, Captain," Jeannie said. "Chief Factor Humphrey, the state of our cargo please."

  That worthy looked up from the tablet he and his assistant, Assistant Factor Nerissa Soong had been huddled over, "Myself and Miss Soong have just done yet another final check and the cargo is all accounted for. The last of it was loaded just a couple of hours ago and we checked personally that it was properly stored and secured." He paused for breath and glanced at his assistant.

  "Owner Chang," Factor Soong said. "I've been keeping constant tabs on prices and trade flows. Our lists for desirable return cargoes as conditioned by their price points matrix remain optimal given the best information currently obtainable."

  "Trading conditions provide no reason to delay departure," Factor Humphrey said.

  "Thank you, factors," Jeannie said. She surveyed the still expectant faces around the table. "Is there any reason we should not depart as planned at 0800 tomorrow?"

  Nobody spoke.

  "Captain Lee?" Jeannie asked.

  "Although there is no actual need for delay," Captain Lee said. "We still have no formal word that the SDF's campaign against the pirates has succeeded. We do not know for certain that a few desperate marauders are not still loose. Your father might have more information when he returns."

  "You don't know that, anymore than you know when he'll return. Is that correct?" Jeannie said.

  "Correct, ma'am," Captain Lee replied.

  "We have solid word that all five of the known pirate bands, the McLoeds, the Yangs, the van Ryzins, the Sukarnos, and the Wilsons, all of them, and their bases too, have been destroyed haven't we?" Jeannie said.

  "That's correct, ma'am," Captain Lee said. "We have word from multiple sources that all five of the known pirate bands have been wiped out. The SDF's sailors and marines haven't been shy about bragging in the bars and brothels when they get back despite the formal security blackout. Those reports have been corroborated by interviews with released captives."

  "Solid confirmation that all the pirates we know of that have been keeping us from trading across the frontier for the last several years are no longer a problem, yes?" Jeannie said.

  "Yes, ma'am," Captain Lee said.

  "A fact now becoming widely known despite the SDF's security blackout, correct?" Jeannie said.

  "Yes, ma'am," Captain Lee said.

  "So no doubt there are others in settled space now becoming aware of the opportunity this represents," Jeannie said. "That the Beyonder groups that have been isolated across the frontier for the last dozen years can now be reached again. That they are doubtless now desperate for the products of settled space, vital spare parts and luxuries both. That they have no doubt been stockpiling rare isotopes for all of those years."

  "That is probable, ma'am," Captain Lee said evenly.

  Jeannie looked at Chief Factor Humphrey. "I have no doubt of it, Owner Chang," he said. "This is the fact around which this whole venture is premised as we all know. There is a certain window of opportunity. We don't know is how big it is, or how long it will last. Anyone preparing such an expedition will be doing so in secrecy as almost as tight as our own."

  "Ma'am, permission to speak?" First Officer Okoro said.

  "Certainly. You don't need permission to speak First Officer," Jeannie said. "It is your duty to speak up if you've anything that might be important to say."

  "Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid none of us want to hear this," First Officer Okoro said. "But there is the possibility of a sixth pirate band, Captain Karl Student's band. They're rumored to be the worst of them all. Never leaving anyone alive, not with their minds intact and able to testify."

  Chief Engineer McKittrick stifled a snort of laughter.

  Jeannie couldn't help but respect the First Officer's courage. They'd all heard the rumors. They were relevant to the issue at hand. Still Okoro knew Jeannie wanted to leave tomorrow, and she knew the rumors of the legendary Captain Student, which might be nothing more than that, were often dismissed with derision by respectable people. Dismissed with laughter like that her Chief Engineer had just suppressed.

  Jeanne surveyed the room. Captain Lee looked like she'd just ate a lemon. The First Officer was nervous but determined. McKittrick was containing an impatient amusement. Purser Seif was projecting smug amusement. Assistant Factor Soong's face was carefully blank. Only Chief Factor Humphrey was taking the First Officer's question seriously. He had an expression of alert attentiveness. He was focused on Jeannie herself.

  "We've all heard the rumors," Jeannie said looking at First Officer Okoro. "No one has ever produced more evidence for Captain Student's existence other than those rumors." She paused for breath and looked around again.

  "Frankly, some of the content and embellishment of those stories is so over the top and fantastical as to render them unbelievable," Jeannie continued. "Not just theft, murder and rape, but arbitrary murder on the whims of a madman, harems, women brainwashed into wanton sex slaves, men conditioned to enjoy random bloodshed, cruelty not for profit but simply for its own sake, orgies that never end, debauches unending, and all of this in some secret base, from which operate ships that no one has ever seen and lived to tell of."

  "These sick fables are impossible to take seriously," Chief Engineer McKittrick said. "They discredit themselves. They're no more than tall tales old hands tell to get youngsters to buy them drinks."

  Jeannie noted Captain Lee nodding as if despite herself.

  "Chief Factor Humphrey?" Jeannie said.

  "For whatever reason these rumors have been persisted," the Chief Factor said. "They've also been remarkably consistent in their details no matter how fantastical they might seem. It could be that they serve a purpose by spreading a sense of terror. A fear that no matter who you are or where you are you can't be safe from the retribution of such murderous madmen if you cross them."

  "So you're not as willing to dismiss these stories out of hand as is Chief Engineer McKittrick," Jeannie said. "Do have any more solid information that might lend them credence?"

  "I'm afraid not, ma'am," the Chief Factor replied.

  "Captain Lee?" Jeannie said.

  "As Chief McKittrick pointed out the stories discredit themselves," Captain Lee said. "They paint a picture of people so completely undisciplined as to indulge their basest urges on frequent whims, but disciplined enough to more than competently operate starships in battle. Disciplined and far sighted enough that they never lose a battle, or even have one of their victims escape. They also operate a base that no one ever reveals the location of and n
o one ever escapes. They're so fantastically disciplined that no solid evidence of their very existence is ever allowed to surface."

  "You believe that's an insurmountable contradiction?" Jeannie said.

  "It is," Captain Lee said. "I've decades of experience to tell me that it's just not the way human nature works. A person's basic nature reveals itself in everything they do. That's even more true of groups than individuals. The Chief Factor is right the stories are consistent in telling of a group incredibly undisciplined in some ways, and yet incredibly disciplined in others. Not credible, incredible is exactly what they are. These stories simply make no sense."

  "So they provide no reason to delay our departure?" Jeannie said.

  "No fears of the dread pirate Captain Karl Student and his bloodthirsty band are not adequate reason to delay our departure, ma'am," Captain Lee answered. "I understand the point you and the Chief Factor have made about a window of opportunity. If it was just the risk of isolated holdouts, and just loss of the ship, its crew and the cargo in question I would be in favor of the scheduled departure time."

  "But you are not," Jeannie said. "Tell us why."

  "It's you, ma'am," Captain Lee replied. "You're too valuable. As your father's sole heir, and after the loss of first your mother and then your brother, with the lack of alternative candidates with the necessary heritage, you're just too important. At the very least you should not be risked without your father's input, and I would hope he'd not make the error of putting you in harm's way."

  "Good. Thank you, Captain," Jeannie said. "I was afraid no one would be willing to bring it up. Two points. One, I am not irreplaceable. My father is not an old man, he can marry again and raise a new heir, multiple new heirs, to majority if need be. Two, I can not become the clan's leader by sitting on Pedlar's Haven station wrapped in tissue paper never running any risks. Understood?"

  She stared the captain down, until finally the captain replied, "Understood, Owner." Jeannie speared each individual at the table in turn with her eyes. Each at least muttered an "Understood" of acknowledgment.

  "Good. We will depart as planned at 0800 tomorrow," Jeannie said. "This meeting is over."

  She stood and walked out. Only her guard followed.

  * * *

  The few minutes it took Jeannie to return to her quarters from the conference room passed in a blur. She was furious.

  The few people she encountered on her way back did not attempt to talk to her. They got out of her way. Whether it was because she was wearing her anger on her face and in her manner, or because of her guard, Sheena Matheson, Jeannie was not sure.

  In any case she needed to get control of herself.

  Her moods were not her own to be indulged in as she wished.

  Once she was back in the middle of her quarters, and the doors to them had closed behind her and Sheena, she stood and took deep breaths.

  "Lost it back there, didn't I?" she said to Sheena.

  "Not completely," her guard replied, "but I think they all noticed you were upset."

  "Thank you, Sheena," Jeannie said. "I do need honest feedback if I'm to improve. Evident I do need to improve." It hurt to admit it, but it was obvious enough.

  "Yes, ma'am. I'll always try to be honest," Sheena said. "I'm afraid I'll not always know what the truth is, or what truths you need to hear. I'll do my best. Always."

  Jeannie took a deep breath. "I know you will," she said. She consciously relaxed and looked around. Thought about what to do next.

  Having made and communicated the decision to depart tomorrow morning there was little she needed to do. Her subordinates were all both experienced and competent. They did not need supervision. They did not need her to make further decisions. They most certainly did not need her hanging over their shoulders like a nervous nelly.

  It was one lesson in people management her father had driven home. You pick the right people, you give them clear instructions, and while you later checked that work and gave feedback as needed, you did not hang around micromanaging them while they were busy.

  She should pack, but that wouldn't take long. In a pinch she could just grab the go-bag she always had ready.

  Likely she should take the chance to get a good night's rest, maybe one last meal that wasn't ship's rations.

  Her anger was fading, but she wasn't hungry, not yet. She was still too wired to have any chance of rest too. She wanted to do something. She wanted to work off some aggression in point of fact.

  She put her hand on her pistol. She looked at Sheena who looked back calmly. Sheena, who was religious about maintaining her fighting skills, had once told her that as important as reflexes, physical fitness, and knowledge of technique were, what was most important in combat was mental state. A focused calm that could not be put off balance was essential.

  "Don't think weapons practice is the best idea right now?" Jeannie said.

  Sheena just nodded in return.

  As she stored her weapons, the pistol in a dedicated case she locked in a drawer, and the sword in a lockable mount on the wall, she asked her guard, "Would you be up to a sparring session?"

  "Always, ma'am," Sheena answered.

  "Good," Jeanne said. "To the gym then."

  2: Giving Orders

  The name you can say,

  Isn't the real name

  Huygen's Station was a long way from any place. Despite, or rather because of, that the Officer's Club on the SDF depot there was outstanding.

  The decor could have been that of a fancy club back on Earth, dim lights, wood paneling, expensive furniture, and tasteful background music. Wait staff flitted about discretely.

  Sven Torson, Lieutenant senior grade these days, couldn't help but appreciate the food.

  Huygen's Station itself produced little beyond the usual hydroponic and fish tank fare. It was a refueling station, a trade hub, and an SDF base that supported the fleet on the frontier. It orbited the moon of a large gas giant that provided the feedstock for its fuel products.

  Further in system lay a terrestrial planet, Leeuwenhoek, that held life. Very primitive life largely single celled and confined to its oceans. Still the place had oxygen, water, and gravity not too different from Earth's.

  The population of Leeuwenhoek was small as were the domed farms to be found at a very few locations on its surface.

  Just the same they were sufficient to keep Huygen's Station supplied with fresh produce and meat. The raw material for the fine meal Torson was enjoying.

  Huygen's Station was key to maintaining the morale of SDF personal between their long frontier patrols, during which they lived off of reconstituted food prepared by shipboard cooks of variable quality. The frontier fleet did have its retention problems.

  Currently the station was booming. The anti-pirate flotilla, formally Task Force 39, the one that Torson was a part of, was back from a long and arduous, if very successful, deployment. Its sailors and marines were ready to party. Most of them in settings far less decorous than that Torson was currently enjoying.

  The music would be loud, the alcohol free flowing, and the women easy in those other settings. Later in the evening there'd be fighting for further entertainment. Spacer on marine was a popular combination.

  Might be less of that this time. The marines had performed well in almost a half dozen hard fights, and the navy for once had been timely and effective in its support. All hands had enjoyed prize money they were now busy unloading themselves of. The spacers and marines were feeling unusually well disposed to each other.

  Some of the other officers would be joining their crewmen in the revelries, to a limited extent at least. Showed the men they were human they'd say.

  Torson wouldn't be. He'd been enlisted himself just a few years ago and was under some pressure to maintain a certain distance from his former mates.

  He also had a presentation to give first thing the next morning. An important one. He needed to have a clear head and to be as presentable as possible, not to b
e tired and hungover.

  Torson headed up the special anti-piracy intelligence unit Admiral Arain had assigned Commodore Darius Zanjani. Zanjani commanded Task Force 39.

  As with the spacers and marines the relationship between Torson's group and the Commodore and his regular staff had warmed over the duration of a successful campaign. Which was not to say it was good having started off with an intense resentment on the part of the Commodore regards having been saddled with "a bunch of meddlesome spies".

  Torson hadn't finished preparing for his presentation yet. It was mostly done. The recap of events, the careful summary of intelligence sources and data, and what they seemed to indicate, that was done and, indeed, in final polished form. The only part not done was the conclusion with his recommendations to the Commodore as to how to proceed.

  Torson knew the recommendation the Commodore wanted. Like most of the men under him, the Commodore wanted to declare victory and go home to his family in some part of the galaxy where decent food wasn't a rarity to be savored.

  Torson knew he could make a solid case for that recommendation. More he knew he couldn't for any other, and that any other recommendation would be, to put it mildly, unwelcome.

  He wasn't sure in his own guts what he should do.

  The marines had done good work. Better work than anyone had any right to expect. They'd captured plentiful records and many prisoners. Torson believed that they'd got all of what records the pirates had kept.

  Torson's group had totted up all the ships and people that the pirates had records of taking. They'd compared them to the records of ships and people missing. There was a gap. A big one. One that seemed to consist disproportionately of the richest prizes.

  He'd have expected exactly the opposite. It was reasonable that some of the less valuable prizes might have been poorly noted by prisoners or not made it on to the books, but the most valuable ones? That made no sense.

  The persistent rumors about one "Captain Karl Student" were also worrisome. Widespread and consistent he'd never been able to track down their source. They were all hearsay. Hearsay that petered out with a strange quickness. They'd find the person who'd told the story to their contact sometimes, sometimes they'd even find the person who'd told the story to that second person, the trail never went further. None of the people they'd located could verify their stories first hand, those that supposedly could were always mysteriously unavailable.