The Corsair Uprising Collection, Books 1-3

by Trevor Schmidt

  “They have a regional headquarters there, don’t they?”

  “It’s massive,” Liam said drowsily, yawning before he could continue. “I can’t see the top from my apartment on most days. What about you?”

  Saturn swelled with pride when she declared, “The Colonies.”

  “A Martian?” Liam asked, excitement coloring his tired voice. “You can’t be a Martian. Martian girls aren’t pretty. The gene pool’s too small.”

  Saturn glowered at him, feeling a familiar anger bubbling up inside her. It took a lot of exertion for her to keep quiet, but she could hardly fault a man with a broken head for his ignorance. She’d suffered through snippy portrayals in Earth media her whole life. There were hundreds of thousands of residents on Mars now with more flowing in every day. It was more than enough to diversify the gene pool. Perhaps his statement cut her deep because she was a direct descendent of Daniella Vera, one of the original colonists. Back then the gene pool really was small, especially after what happened during the first attempt at colonization. Still, she’d have plenty of time to deal with Liam’s backhanded compliment once his head wasn’t garbled. She preferred a fair fight.

  Liam’s head began to drift down onto Saturn’s shoulder and she shrugged him off a little harder than she’d intended.

  Liam protested, “Hey! Injured and sleep deprived here; I’ll be a great help if we try to get off this ship.”

  “I have a feeling we won’t have to do it alone.”

  12

  2146 A.D. – The Sand’s Edge Bar, Garuda Colony, Planet Garuda

  Sunlight crept through the slits of the bar’s front entrance, slinking along the floor as the sun moved along its path. Elder Bartle had just taken his first bite of his bread which was smeared with mashed Jicala, a common star-shaped tuber known for its health benefits. The elder swore by it, and given his advanced age, Nix was beginning to see its merit as well. However, like any other healthy food, the Jicala had an odor that was less than palatable.

  Growing up, seeing what Nix had seen, he never expected to live as long as he had. There were countless instances in which he should have been dead. Thinking about maintaining a healthy body seemed like such a foreign idea. What was the point when few lived beyond middle age?

  Elder Bartle finished the first half of his bread and wiped a few crumbs from the edge of his mouth.

  “You’re worried,” the elder stated. “I see it written all over your face.”

  “You’re not?”

  Elder Bartle shook his head. Nix didn’t know how the elder could remain so calm. Perhaps as a survivor of the Phage Sickness he’d already faced pain worse than anything he could imagine happening to him now. He supposed that would ease some people’s minds. Nix wasn’t convinced.

  The elder looked up to the ceiling and raised his hand. One of the glowing orbs responded, floating silently down until it just grazed the tips of his fingers. Elder Bartle closed his hand around it gently and examined it up close. The flitting lights inside were mesmerizing to watch up close.

  “We can learn a lot from Flicker Bugs. You know the orb is a natural phenomenon? It is a part of their ecosystem. A method of protection. Without it, they could not survive. When a Flicker Bug dies, the others use its body to reinforce the orb. As the corpse decomposes, the others derive all the nutrients they need to live. Entirely self-sustaining. It’s a lot like The Union in the old stories. The bodies of ancient creatures, their life force, absorbed into spaceships with immeasurable power. It’s the Aether that makes them strong.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “How did the orb itself come to be?”

  Nix sighed and decided to humor his aging companion.

  “No one really knows, do they? No one’s ever seen one being made.”

  Elder Bartle chortled and replied, “That’s because no one cares. Not as long as they work. The Flicker Bug doesn’t create it. The orb itself is alive. Aware even. It’s the orb that responds to our will. Senses us. But make no mistake, one could not survive without the other.”

  Nix remained silent for a moment, thinking over the elder’s words. He wondered why the elderly always insisted on beating around the bush. If anything, they should be anxious to get to the point before they passed on.

  “What are you trying to say, that we need the Ansarans?”

  Elder Bartle gazed through the orb, the light of the Flicker Bugs reflecting off his golden eyes.

  “Nix, you’ve seen more than most twice your age. But, you don’t remember the war. There may come a time when the Alliance is our only chance of survival, regardless of what we think of the Ansarans. No matter what may happen later, we can’t afford to squander an opportunity if it presents itself.”

  Elder Bartle coughed and then continued with his rasping voice, “Boy, I remember when you were a child and I was treating your parents.”

  “Stop,” Nix said softly, still staring at the light from the orb. He imagined the countless specs within transforming into the shapes of his parents. Flames engulfed their motionless bodies, a ritual for the dead. Nix thought he had repressed that particular memory. It hadn’t entered his mind in years. What boy would choose to remember watching his parents burn before his eyes? It was for the good of the colony, Elder Bartle had told him. To prevent the disease’s spread.

  The elder continued, “They were taken from you too soon, it’s true. But don’t confuse what’s happening now to what happened back then.”

  Nix felt an emptiness in his stomach that reached up to his throat, strangling his will to speak. He felt a dampness in the corners of his eyes. He never spoke about them. Nix was a small boy when the sickness took his parents. He was ashamed to admit that he couldn’t even remember their faces.

  “How can I not?” Nix struggled to say.

  “Back then,” Elder Bartle began, leaning over the light so his leathery face was illuminated, “The Phage was a fact of life. Anyone who was paying attention knew where it came from. Those Ansarans with their insistence on genetic manipulation. The truth is they were successful in creating the perfect weapon to defeat us. But they didn’t. They couldn’t.”

  Nix placed his hands palm down on the table and leaned in.

  “But what if the Ansarans decided to finish the job?”

  “I don’t think they have.”

  Nix leaned back and crossed his arms. It was as though the elder was turning a blind eye. Of all people, he should be the one to see the seriousness of the situation. If the Ansarans wanted to, they could destroy the Dinari on a whim. If they caught wind that there was a rebellion brewing, it would give them the motivation they needed to end an impending war before it even began.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “It’s been hours since infection and no one else has expressed any symptoms.”

  Elder Bartle smiled, content with himself.

  Nix retorted, “We were careful, we took precautions.”

  Elder Bartle stroked the outside of the light orb with one claw. The hundreds of bright flecks within danced along with his touch. The display was oddly soothing. The elder continued to smile, exemplifying the calm that emanated from the orb.

  “You don’t remember what it was really like back then. Not fully. The strain released earlier today is not the same as the one released in your youth. It is weaker. Still deadly, mind you, but not as contagious. If it were, you and your friends would already be dead.”

  13

  “Lieutenant Wilkes, I’d forgotten about him.”

  Saturn let an uncomfortable laugh slip out from her mouth, hardly audible through her breathing mask. She wished she could forget about him. Liam hadn’t seen everything she had. Their escape was hardly as clean as she’d let Liam believe. She wondered how much she should tell him. The truth might change their relationship forever.

  Liam coughed and more blood flew past his ornamental mask, finding its way to the plastic sheet in the form of tiny droplets which b
egan to trail down the makeshift wall. He wheezed, “Keep going, it’s nice to hear you talk.”

  Saturn played with the rough fabric of her pants, tracing the dark patches that might have passed as a desert camouflage, though unintentional in nature. Maybe giving Liam something else to think about apart from the pain was what he needed. She wanted to believe that was the case.

  “The lights in the hallway dimmed to simulate the night on the Zulu schedule. That’s when things got interesting.”

  •

  2142 A.D. – Terran Military Vessel Dauntless

  Saturn’s eyes shot open when half of the LED lights dimmed in the hallway, casting deep shadows into their cell. She shrugged Liam’s head off her shoulder and rose up from the bench, slowly approaching the door out of caution. From behind her, she could hear Liam’s absentminded protests. She must have fallen asleep somehow. She shouldn’t have let herself fall asleep.

  “Hey, I was comfortable,” Liam objected.

  “Quiet, someone’s coming.”

  The sound of footsteps rang out in the hallway, proceeding at a pace much faster than a walk. A dark figure sprinted up to the Plexiglas and fumbled through the pockets of his grey jumpsuit for something within. His hands and gaunt face were stained with some sort of thick grease. The man’s hair was short like the Lieutenant’s, a typical military cut. However, unlike the Lieutenant, he seemed like he actually worked for a living.

  Finally, his fingers found what he was looking for and he pulled out a keycard, which Saturn noticed had a different face emblazoned on it than that of the man before her. The grease monkey wiped the card off on his jumpsuit and inserted it into the slot. The glass quickly slid aside without a sound.

  Liam still sat on the bench as though in shock, his gaze rotating between Saturn and the mechanic. Saturn pointed at him and ordered, “Get up. It’s time to go.”

  Saturn passed the grungy man on her way out, patting him on the shoulder and thanking him. He only said, “United we reign.”

  She’d heard the phrase a number of times before. It was Vesta Corporation’s latest slogan and was blasted to every private console in the solar system. Whenever she powered on her ship she saw a quick commercial from Vesta. It was always a different ad tailored specifically to her and her tastes, but it always ended with one of their cheesy catchphrases. Whichever one the marketing A.I. thought she’d be most responsive to that day. Perhaps the most maddening part was its near-perfect accuracy.

  Liam stumbled out of the cell, his center of balance a little off. He thanked the man in the jumpsuit, who retrieved the card from its slot and took off down the hallway in the opposite direction, without uttering another word.

  “I’d ask his name,” Liam said woozily, “But somehow I don’t think he’d have appreciated a Christmas card.”

  Saturn shook her head and grabbed her loopy crewmate by his upper arm, leading him down the corridor and passing a number of cells. Most of them were unoccupied, except for the few which housed random ruffians, some of them staring her down as she moved past. Near the end of the hall, one prisoner was pressed up against the glass, her tight blue jumpsuit torn to shreds, seemingly of her own volition.

  “Shouldn’t we help them?” Liam asked groggily.

  “We have our mission. Besides, we don’t know what they’ve done. For all we know they could be in for a bit more than moving questionable cargo. Murderers are bad for business.”

  Liam didn’t argue as Saturn approached the door at the end of the hall and hit the release button. She heard an electronic motor overhead and looked up. A small circular camera was focusing in on her face. She held her breath. A moment later she heard a loud clunk and the thick metal door slid aside. Saturn breathed out the pent up air in her lungs. It was starting to look like they had friends in all the right places.

  “Come on,” Saturn commanded.

  Liam’s eyes appeared to be out of focus. He was more concerned with the uninteresting architecture of the ship than minding which way he was going. She led him down a corridor with many angled turns. At each junction, the bulkheads were reinforced with a steel that had been painted, if possible, an even drearier grey than the rest of the ship. Every so often, panels of light shined out into the hall, providing only the minimum brightness needed to keep from tripping. Saturn tried hard to remember which way they’d come on their way in, but the many turns were so similar she couldn’t be sure they were headed in the right direction.

  The low light in the hallway confirmed that the military vessel ran on a 24-hour clock. They hadn’t seen anybody since the mechanic who’d set them free. Saturn found it off-putting. She’d seen no less than four cameras since they’d entered the angled corridor and still no alarms. Vesta Corporation must have had their priorities when they decided whom they paid off. She was beginning to wonder just what they were carrying that merited such a coordinated response from Vesta. After all, they were one of easily a thousand supply ships.

  Saturn stopped suddenly when she saw the wide cargo lift ahead, blue lights engulfing its interior and flooding out and down the hall. When they were pulled aboard the vessel, the officers had brought them up that lift, she was sure of it. A dark feeling washed over her. Was it doubt? She tightened her grip on Liam’s arm and hazarded a few small steps toward the lift.

  She heard voices and halted, pushing her and a dazed Liam against the wall, the deep shadows consuming most of their bodies. Two soldiers came out from a side hallway and entered the lift. They were clad in grey uniforms that conformed tightly to their bodies, bits of hardened armor covering their chests, shoulders, and upper legs. Pulse rifles were slung across their shoulders casually. One looked like the prototypical military man with a chiseled jaw and muscles that filled out his uniform nicely. His counterpart was a rough-looking woman with short blonde hair that was shaved up the left side, the rest hanging down choppily over her right cheek.

  “What did LT want?” she asked the military man.

  “The same bullshit. He said General Carmine is supposed to meet us on Mars to inspect our unit.”

  The blonde soldier cursed, slamming a button on the wall and triggering a cascade of linked metal to slide down in front of them.

  “Cleaning details again? What do they think they trained us for?”

  “Just keep your mouth shut. Cooperate a little longer and you’ll make Sergeant. At least then you won’t have to get your hands quite as dirty.”

  The blonde soldier smirked, apparently taking no offense to her superior’s tone. Saturn might have clocked him. No one told her to keep her mouth shut. It occurred to her that there was a pretty good reason she never joined the military.

  The lift began to move and Saturn could see a trace of the blue light descend with them. Liam squinted off toward the elevator before rubbing his eyes vigorously.

  “Are you going to make it?” Saturn asked, half-mockingly.

  “I’ve got this,” Liam said, breaking free of her grasp and taking a few steps down the hallway. He didn’t take more than five steps before tripping over his own feet, barely managing to save himself from a nasty fall.

  Saturn shook her head, stifling a laugh. “Get it together. The lift’s crawling with military so we’re going to have to find another way down.”

  Liam’s confusion became more present in his visage with every passing minute. Maybe he’d hit his head harder than she thought. Saturn took Liam’s arm once more and led him down a hallway that jutted to the right just before the intersection which housed the lift. Around the corner was an alcove which was indented into the wall struts in the shape of a half-hexagon. The recess accommodated a thin ladder which ran both up and down through multiple decks.

  Saturn remembered the lift taking them up several decks when they’d arrived on the Terran vessel. Getting Liam back down the ladder, however, would prove to be a task. Saturn guided him into the alcove, regularly checking the hallway for movement. She leaned him up against the metal hull and held him by
the shoulders. “The shaft is narrow, so if you get tired, lean your back up against the wall. Just don’t let go of the rungs.”

  Saturn helped Liam onto the ladder and watched him descend. It might have been crass to make him go first, but she wasn’t about to risk his lifeless body falling on top of her. Politeness had its limits.

  After they’d descended one level, Liam started making strange noises below her, the echoes of his growling stomach and wheezes bouncing off the walls of the shaft.

  “Quiet,” Saturn whispered urgently.

  Then Saturn heard the dreaded noise. Liquid gurgled in Liam’s throat before being expelled from his mouth, coating the shaft below them and continuing to drip from the rungs of the ladder, sending the sickening plips and plops up to Saturn’s revolted ears. It was hard for her to think about a worse situation. As the rancid smell made its way up to her she finally thought of one way. She could have been below him when it happened.

  “Oh God,” Liam said, mortified. “I haven’t thrown up since 2133. It would only have been a few more months to go ‘til ten.”

  Saturn looked down and involuntarily gagged. She held her sleeve over her nose and mouth and said through her arm, “Just keep moving. We should only have a few more decks to go.”

  Saturn didn’t dare look down again. She heard Liam’s boots begin to clunk off the metal rungs and she continued her descent, happy that at least she had on her leather gloves and doing her best to avoid the vomit. Without keeping an eye on the ladder below, her feet began to slip every so often and she had to force her boots into the sides of the ladder to keep from falling.

  Saturn heard Liam’s boots hit the floor and relief overwhelmed her. She hurried her pace and finally cautioned a glance downward. Liam had stepped out from the hexagonal recess below and stopped just beyond, staring off. The floor at the bottom of the shaft was a grated metal that had absorbed most of Liam’s dripping bile. She skipped the last several handholds and jumped down. Saturn wiped her gloves off on her pant legs. They were her favorite and now she doubted if any steam cleaning would make them like new again.