“They are registered as Garvon’s Pride, Captain Happy Bear.”
“Huh? Captain Hap―whatever! Open communications.” An instant later, an alien Teddy bears face appeared in the holograph over the console.
“Hello, HMS Incontinence. Good morning! What can I do for you?” Captain Happy Bear said—happily.
“I’m dead in the water, err space. Something’s wrong with my hydrogen engines. I've put a call out for a towing vessel, but I was hoping someone might pass by sooner and give me a tow in-system, I’m now way behind schedule,” Peter said in his most polite voice. “I'll make it worth your while.”
“Sure! Why not? Glad to help. Shouldn't delay me too much, doesn’t matter if I’m a few hours late. How do you want to do this?” Happy said showing his teeth.
“If you pull up close to me, I have magnetic grapples to attach myself to your ship,” Peter suggested.
“Alright, give me a few minutes,” Happy said. It took Happy a few minutes to get himself turned around and aligned with the Incontinence.
Wow! This is almost too easy! Beings sure are gullible! Peter thought to himself. He almost felt guilty.
Peter slapped his forehead, “Say, Garvon’s Pride, where are you hailing from and whats your destination, by the way?”
“Garvon Six, and I'm headed to Hyak II. Why?”
“Oh, just wondering,” said Peter chuckling evilly.
As soon as the Incontinence was firmly attached to the Garvon’s Pride, directly lining up with its cargo bay, he announced, “I’m sorry to do this to you, Captain Happy, but I'm hijacking your cargo. Please don't resist; I don't want to hurt you. You seem like a nice being,” Peter said deadpan.
“You flox excrement eater! Pirating my cargo? I had heard rumors of pirates lately from other captains, but I assumed they were hoaxes. I’ve never heard of another pilot being hijacked. I never expected to meet at pirate in my lifetime. But I'm not going to fight you over a few hundred tons of beef by-product. I'm insured,” Captain Happy said with a smile and a wink.
“Good! That’s wise of you... wait! What do you mean beef by-product?”
“I have a cargo of beef colons, intended for a Maggis and sausage factory on Hyack II―”
“Wait! Oh, no! Are you telling me―?”
“Yep! You are stealing a hundred thousand tons of cow buttholes,” Captain Happy bear said laughing, “I know you humans have weird phobias about certain parts of an animal. For me and my race, protein is protein. Don't get too upset, it’s still worth two- hundred thousand credits or more to the right buyer.”
Peter put his face in his hands. “Shit! Cow butt holes!” After a moment he raised his head.
“Very well! Prepare to be boarded. Could you open your hold, please? I would hate to have to cut it open. I have seals on it already, so you can pressurize it,” Peter said in what he hoped was a stearn voice.
“No problem! Told ya, I'm not going to fight you. Say, how long do you think it’s going to take you to rob me? I could maybe catch a quick nap,” said Happy sounding like his name sake.
“I don't know, what do you think, Shirley?” Peter said.
“The lift-bots only need minimal direction; two hours, tops,” Shirley said politely.
“Uh, you hear that, Garvon’s Pride? Oh, and of course my ship’s computer is monitoring all communications. If you attempt to call the military police or make any other communication until we are gone, my ship will fire its EMP and fry all your electronics. Just FYI.”
“Read you loud and clear, Captain? Captain...? Oh, right! No names. Alright, Incontinence, wake me when you are done.
“Fine, go ahead.” Peter hit the com button.
“Attention, crew! We have secured our first cargo. Neither weapons nor a boarding party will be needed. We have secured a cargo without violence. I only need...mm... John and Bob-Six to supervise and direct the lift-bots for loading the cargo. Floyd, organize and co-ordinate the loading, please. The rest of you take it easy. Congratulations, we are now, officially, pirates!”
Utilizing the lift-bot aboard Garvon’s Pride as well as their own, they had the hold of their first victim cleared of cargo and loaded into their own hold within a few hours. John and Bob-Six had to wear their spacesuits, since the Garvon’s hold was at absolute zero. No refrigeration was needed when shipping frozen products in space. John and Bob-Six hurried to the galley for something hot to drink as soon as they were done. The suits actually kept them quite warm, but psychologically they felt cold after being in vacuum and raw space. The others crowded around them firing questions.
“So, what did we get? Machine parts? Exotic furs? Rare jewels? What? What? What?” James said excited.
“Yeah, come on, spill! Electronics? Robot parts? Rare foodstuffs, like Faloosian pseudo-lobsters or Garvon truffles?” Oscar added.
“I could not tell. It was all in boxes on pallets,” Bob-Six relayed in his usual flat, expressionless voice.
“Beings cannot even be taking a guess?” Jikilenga queried.
“Uh, it’s considered a delicacy on Hyak,” John said cautiously. As a chef, he knew very well what it was. Personally, he found Maggis and the sausage disgusting and had never eaten any. There was no need to use ofal in animal proteins anymore such as intestines, eyeballs and the like, as any muscle group on an animal could be grown in a food tank these days. He could partially decipher Garvon script after years of receiving various foodstuffs in his kitchen, but he didn’t think the rest of the crew would appreciate the news. He shuddered.
“Oh, so its food. Farzookian! Rare foods are pricey!” Oscar said happily.
“I don't know if it’s rare,” John muttered under his voice softly, “but Hyakians love their Maggis and sausage.”
“Maggis! Isn't that made with beef colons?” said James incredulously. Being from Hyak he was very familiar with the dish. “Wait. Are you telling me after all this time, our first score is a load of cow assholes stuffed with guts!”
“I’m not saying anything, James, and I don't think they are stuffed with anything. But does it matter? It’s a valuable cargo, we will get paid.” John said.
James groaned, “How do I get off this crap box? I could be home getting high, watching space operas, and Hello Galaxy with Kathy. At least that was exciting; I might have eventually won a free vacation from the Kathy show by having the daily clue, if they called,” James said angrily.
“You are welcome to get off anytime, James if you object. In the meantime, I suggest you make the best of it. Life is rarely as they portray it in the Holovids, most captured cargo will most likely be of the mundane variety.” said Floyd.
“Yeah, yeah. Where can I get something to drink on this tub?” James started rummaging in the galley cupboards, finally holding up two bottles of Pouklet liqueur in triumph.
“Let me remind you, if a call comes in and you are not fit for duty, you will be terminated, and confined to quarters,” Floyd admonished him.
“Well, good for me! It would take about five bottles of this swill to get me really drunk, so…kiss my lily-white ass, tin can!” James walked off to his quarters holding up a middle finger to Floyd as he did.
John leaned into Oscar and whispered. “Think I'm going to have to hide all the booze.”
Chapter 10: Finally, the Big Score, Pirate 101
Another week passed before the crew was alerted again with soft chiming. Many possible freighters had passed by, but Peter did not want any more large, bulky cargoes. He finally got the call he had been waiting for, during their waking times.
“So, is this it, Shirley? A cruise liner?” Peter said hopefully.
Shirley had already micro-jumped them into position, and within a minute or so, the cruise liner shimmered into view. Peter had finally gotten impatient and called some of his fellow smugglers and former acquaintances for information on space traffic and had struck pay dirt, being informed of the imminent arrival of a cruise liner at these co-ordinates. He was also informed tha
t Boss was offering a substantial reward for information leading to Peter’s whereabouts.
“Yes Captain. Its registry is the Titan’s Glory, an Emperor’s line. Robert Barsony is Captain, based out of an Earth Norwegian port, per their transponder broadcast.
“Fantastic! Those Norwegians make the best ships, have the most expensive cruises, and richest passengers. Okay! We are going to do it right this time. Prepare to get rich, boys and girls!” Peter said to no one, rubbing his hands together theatrically.
“Open a frequency to the Titan’s Glory Shirley. Hello, Titan’s Glory! You are ordered to stop your engines immediately. You have three seconds to comply! If you attempt to micro-jump, my sensors will tell me. I will fire an EMP and ruin your electronics or open your hull to vacuum with my rail gun.” Pushing the off button on the mic, Peter said, “Shirley, fire three shots across their bow! Show them we mean business!” Three slight vibrations were all the indication Peter had that Shirley had fired. One- two-”
“Captain, my sensors detect that they have powered down their engines,” Shirley politely informed Peter.
He thumbed the mic back on. “Very good, Titan’s Glory, very sensible of you. Prepare to be boarded. Assemble all your passengers in the dining room and await our instructions.”
“This is Captain Barsony. What is the meaning of this? Who are you? How dare you stop my ship! What are you playing at?” Captain Barsony’s bearded face looked angry, and flustered on the holographic display
“This is the pirate vessel HMS Incontinence. We will be relieving you of your vessel’s valuables and those of your passengers. Please do not resist, and no one will be injured.”
“This is an outrage! There haven't been any pirates in this system for a half century and no one has ever robbed an Emperor’s line in space! You are going to be hunted down like Griffoons when the military finds out about this! I’ll have your heads on pikes.”
“Gee, they still do that? Thought that was only in the middle ages. You've been watching too many old movies. You are hardly able to make threats, Captain. Like I said, we don't want to harm anyone, merely profit by our encounter.” Peter had stolen that line from a twenty-first century movie. “In the dining room, ten-time units―out!” Peter said.
“Is it just me, or does this conversion sound like a bad holovid, Shirley?”
“For sure…but how many ways can you say, ‘sorry, schmuck, I'm taking all your crap, or I’ll hurt you,’” Shirley snickered
Peter opened the ship’s com, “All crew meet me in the air lock immediately, in uniform…ah…costume, and armed. Its show time, gang! This is not a drill! Captain out!”
“Well, here goes nothing! Wish us luck, Shirley.”
Shirley appeared in midair in her pirate clothes and Tricorn hat. “Certainly, Captain, good luck,” she said with great emotion. “I must say you look smashing as a pirate! It’s so cute that your parrot has a matching eye-patch. I'm so proud of you! Speaking of which, don't forget your eye-patch!”
Peter grabbed it from the flight-chair armrest and hastily slipped it on.
“Oh, yeah, parrot.” He snatched Sam off the console, punched its chest switch to turn it on, and slapped it onto his shoulder. He was thinking that Shirley’s polite mode was beginning to make him nauseous.
“Arrraaaak! Sliver me Tembers! Peaches of hate! Hank da scurvy Dods from the lardarm!” Sam exclaimed, “your mudder tiffs dirty pannies in ell.”
“Shit! Who's been fucking with my parrot!” Peter said exasperated.
Everyone was assembled at the airlock. It was the first-time Peter had had a chance to observe everyone dressed for action. He liked what he saw.
John, Oscar, and the Meloovian were big and imposing. Jikilenga was, well—big—around. On the downside, he still looked like a shrunk-down whale with huge balls and that stupid permanent grin. With a red sash around his chest, and a beret perched on its broad head, it looked distinctly silly.
James still had on one too many scars and wore a multi-colored clown wig.
In addition to his eye-patch, sword, and sidearm, Peter had the foot-long, ornate knife he had picked up at the pawn shop. He had topped off his costume with a silver-haired angrily spiked wig. John sported a close-cut red afro type wig under his black beret. Oscar and Monica wore fashionable leather bondage hoods split open unzipped and pinned behind their ears, giving them a bizarre appearance. Oscar had complained that the full hood was too hot, Monica, being so beautiful, was not particularly imposing, but the one scar on her cheek gave her a somewhat bad-ass look. A black beret was perched on top of the leather hoods. Hopefully, with the disguises, weapons, swords, and knives they were sporting it would strike fear into the passengers and crew on the cruise liner and stop anyone from getting any ideas about opposing them—or recognizing them later.
“So, crew, this is it, show time! Please refrain from violence, if you can avoid it. Jikilenga, you have my permission to bitch slap someone, if we need it, since you have experience. Uh, but lose that beret,” pointing at Jikelenga, “you, too, Bob-Six. James, peel off a few scars; that many looks ridiculous. Oh, Shit—everybody take off the Berets—they just look silly.”
Floyd turned, putting its hand on its metal hips and cocking its head, despite have no facial expressions it looked at them all as if to say…see, told you so.” Oscar, at least, was in the paramilitary garb they had agreed on. Floyd was pleased to see she had peeled the pasties off her armor where her nipples would be and was wearing the black cargo pants with black military boots instead of her favorite plaid skirt.
“James, I'm going to need your expertise to open the safes. The passenger’s valuables should be locked away there. Hopefully, you can crack it, or the Captain will give up the combination. The rest of you will be collecting personal items directly from the passengers. Ah! Good! You have brought a rolling trunk and assorted satchels for collection.” Peter looked at Monica. She looked nervous, and uncomfortable.
“Monica? You OK?”
“Peter, I, ah—I feel really weird about holding people up. I mean, I never really thought it out about how we would be actually robbing people of their stuff. I’m a working girl—not a mugger,” Monica said with a trembling voice.
“Uh, yeah... Sorry, Monica, if it’s any consolation, the liner will compensate the passengers for their losses. S-o-o- if you want—you can sit this one out. Anyone else?”
"I didn't say I wouldn't do it Peter, it's just that I'm not entirely comfortable with it. Even though playing dress up was fun, I realized it might come down to this… robbing people—I'm in— alright?" Monica added defensively.
"Ok, thanks Monica I swear, nobody's going to misbehave. Look at us! Bad --ass's...” Peter declared confidently smiling...
“I hate these rich fucks,” James volunteered.
“I am not a stranger to the poking of sharp things in beings, slapping the bitch, and taking of belongings,” Jikilenga added.
“I’ve killed insurgents and complete strangers before. That's kind of permanent. Robbing someone, they'll get over it. I'm good,” Oscar said.
“I’m not completely happy about this part of the job, but I knew it might come to this. I’m reluctantly OK with it,” John stated.
The Meloovian, as usual, was silent and just shrugged.
“Well, then, let’s do it! Watch out for the lack of gravity, at first. Use the handholds.”
Peter opened the airlock and they all stepped in. The Incontinence's door closed, the pressure equalized, and the outer door opened with a hiss revealing the meters-long, flexible gantry. Grabbing the door edge Peter launched himself toward the far, outer lock of the Titan’s Glory. The rest of the crew followed using the handholds. In a moment, they were inside the cruise liner. The outer air lock to the Titan’s Glory stood open. Wisely, they had opened their locks to prevent a forced opening and major damage.
They headed for the dining room, which was made easier by signs at every junction showing them exactly whe
re to go. They knew they were nearly on their quarry when they came around a corner and the sound of hundreds if not thousands of angry and upset passengers hit them like a wave.
The ornate dining room was very large and crowded. The crew, and what Peter assumed was the Captain, were in a small knot surrounded by a dozen security guards dressed in traditional, black uniforms with SECURITY emblazoned across their chests. Their guns were drawn.
A hush fell over the crowd as Peter and his crew made their entrance, then they all started murmuring again as people got over their initial shock and started talking about the appearance of the pirates. Children pulled on their parents’ sleeves and pointed. Peter had been afraid that their wardrobe choices might be laughed at, but the crowd seemed somewhat in awe judging from their wide-eyed staring. Peter walked with purpose toward the ship’s officers and said tersely, “Which one of you is the ship’s captain?”
“I am,” said a tall, silver-haired human. “I assume you are the scum-sucking-pig-of-a-pirate that's hijacking my ship?”
“Yep, that's me, but I resent the name calling. I practice personal grooming and have never sucked any scum. I advise your security team to drop their weapons before one accidentally goes off, or they pee their uniforms.” Peter growled. The security team was not young; their spotted hands trembled with fear. They were all paunchy, and wrinkled, although some had the air of ex-military. With rejuve available to all that could afford it, the liner either paid them poorly, or they were all on their fourth rejuve, after which humans reverted to the natural aging process.
“Or what?” Captain Barsony questioned angrily.
“Or this.”
Peter nodded at Jikilenga, who promptly went over to the closest security guard and savagely clubbed him to the ground with his pistol. The crowd gasped.
“Ow, hey—Watch it! I’m due for my last rejuve, but right now I could throw out a hip you bastard! “The security guard said. Jikilenga pointed his pistol at the Captain.
“I assure you that we will have no compunctions about shooting the passengers where they stand or shoving them out the airlock, one by one if you don’t follow orders,” Peter hissed savagely, acting his ass off. He hoped his bluff held, as he wouldn't do that, but he hoped they wouldn't push it. He didn't know what he would do if they resisted.
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