by Jake Macklem
Ace was digging through the box of meals. “I vote no.”
“Seconded.” Cam pulled the string on his meal box.
Ace lifted a meal from the crate, her face awash with reverent joy. “Brownie! Cosmic.” She also grabbed a jug of water and sat near Cam.
“So… who does all this stuff belong to?” Ace asked as she pulled the string to heat her dinner.
“I don’t know. It makes no sense at all.” Cam shoveled the food into his mouth.
Ace ate slower. It wasn’t in the intel, but the intel was shit. It can’t be far from the base. It would be perfect for them. If I’m right, we’re in danger—but we may also have a way off this moon. She finished her dinner wrestling with the decision. It went against everything she was ever trained to do as a STAR. But I shouldn’t be a STAR anymore. My time is up. And it’s not like they came looking for me. Ace stared at the brownie knowing she had to choose. “I think I might have an idea where it came from.” Shaw is a good man.
Cam stopped shoveling. “Yeah?”
Ace picked up the brownie, inhaling the delightful treat’s scent. I can trust him. “I came to this system with a sixty-person team, sent to investigate and shut down an increase in criminal activity and possible Sol insurrection. We were to infiltrate their base of operations, download their mainframe records, damage their infrastructure, and report our findings. They were shooting at us before we hit the ground. The mission was blown before it even started. Only six of us touched down.”
She took a bite, chewed, and swallowed.
“We stole some of their Warthog fighters and came under fire again as we were taking off; two more went down.” She paused, with a heavy sigh. “We cleared atmo but they had a shanking cruiser in orbit and two more of my team were killed. That just left me and Smith. We tried to use the gas planet—”
“Ophelia?” Cam asked.
Ace could not stop the shudder of emotion. That’s what Smith called the planet.
“Red, you don’t have—”
Ace wiped her face with the back of her hand and continued, “We tried to use Ophelia as cover for our escape, but they used a rail scatter gun on us. I think Smith got hit harder than I did. She went down and her ship exploded. The explosion sent out some sort of EMP and everything in my ‘hog went dead. I crashed here. The ship chasing us got pulled into Ophelia; must have been affected too.” Ace absently took a bite of her brownie.
“I can’t even begin…” Cam started.
Cutting him off, Ace blurted, “I think this place is the pirate's stash. Where they hide everything until they have a buyer or whatever.”
Cam shook his head. “Then why is it here. I mean, why haven’t they come and picked it up?”
“Because the cruiser went down.” Ace blinked at him. “Don’t you see? They were lots of pirates on that planet. Their big ship went down—they haven’t come here because they don’t want to make dozens of little trips and draw attention to their hiding spot. But once they have a ship that can carry all this…” Ace swept her arm around at the stacks of supplies.
Cam’s face lit up. “They’re gonna come get their stuff!”
Ace took another bite of her brownie. The chocolate tasted rich and sweet. I shanking love brownies.
23: Remy
Remy sat at his desk, reading his messages, trying to ignore the soft sobs. Plundering for six months, patrolling the black, enjoying the gambit of piracy, raiding colony ships, selling some of the ill-gotten gains, spending the credits on new hardware and bribes… as far as Remy was concerned, the trip had been a cosmic success.
Two months into the trip, his base of operations reported that their activities had drawn the attention of the Sol military. Fortunately, they were up to date with their bribery payments and they were given plenty of warning that the STARS were coming.
His comrade, Mara, had taken charge of their big cruiser, moving the clients and their supplies to the stash moon. It was a strange place that they had been using for years. They tried to use it as a base for a time, but that ended badly and now Remy only went there when it was absolutely necessary, and it was. His ship, the Javelin, was the only one big enough to collect the supplies. You just had to go and die. You’re a tart, Mara. He poured another glass of the alcohol distilled from the engine room. He picked up the glass. “To you, Mara, for moving the goods and being a good shank.” He tossed the liquid back, burning his throat.
He felt a twinge of regret for Mara as he turned off the digital display and leaned back in his chair, pondering how he would replace a lost ship.
He leered over at the two people with collars on their necks that leashed them to the floor with a two and a half foot long chain. Neither wore clothes nor had any hair on their bodies. The human male slept soundly. Remy had named him Toejam and had been training him for about three months. He’s broken, just needs to learn all his protocols. Toejam didn’t have any problems prepping the new one today. That’s a good sign. In a month or two he’ll fetch me a couple hundred thousand credits. Remy sighed. The market for well-trained—and expendable—submissives always favored the supplier.
Holding her tail for comfort as she softly cried, the female Sidarian had curled herself into a tight ball, occasionally touching her newly shaven head. Being bald seemed unnatural to her. Her skin was a pale pink, her veins faintly visible streaks of purple. She’ll adjust. They all do. Part of the training Remy employed in breaking his slaves was to take away anything that let them feel equal or unique. Control everything—from when and what they eat to their hair. Remy would use Toejam as a training tool to break in the new girl, teach her her new role. But first I need to name her, so I can yell at her. He stood and began to walk toward the pair.
The Sidarian covered as much of her body as she could when she heard Remy move. She glanced over but did not look at him; she had already learned that lesson. Her wide-eyed fear caused her body to shake uncontrollably. Slowly he stalked toward her. A beep came from his door. He stopped and scowled, annoyed, and barked, “What is it?”
The door opened and a seven-foot Gargin stepped into the room. He looked to be carved from hornfels rock, with striations of grey and black, and thin bands of white. In a deep rumbling voice that cut off the beginnings of words with hard consonants, he said, “Captain, we’re in the system and on approach to Ophelia. We’ve detected a ship circling the moon.”
Remy glared. “What kind of ship? One of ours?” Is someone trying to steal from me?
“No Captain. Looks to be a mining and surveying ship.” The Gargin gave a wicked smile.
“Well then, Mr. Vargi, we should go introduce ourselves,” Remy sneered. He looked at the crying Sidarian. She can wait.
“Aye, Captain.” Mr. Vargi led the way as they walked to the bridge.
The bridge of the ship was small, with only a few stations: pilot, comms operator, two gunnery positions, and a chair for the captain. Getha a Zontra—a four-foot, grey-skinned humanoid—turned its large black eyes to the door as it slid open. When Remy walked in behind Mr. Vargi, it said, “Captain, we are in range. The ship has hailed us and is attempting to evade.”
Remy turned and looked at the O’rix at the comms panel. “Open a frequency, T’toli,”
The female humanoid cat had markings like a puma but her fur colors were red, pink, orange, and black. T’toli blinked her yellow eyes. “Aye, Captain.” She pressed some buttons on her station, and there was a brief, faint crackle of static.
He swaggered to the chair, sitting in it like a throne. “This is Captain Remy Dark.” He had started calling himself that a few years into his pirating career; turned out Remy Dorvashmitz did not strike enemies with the fear he hoped to instill. “The Javelin is poised and ready to destroy your ship. I would like you to consider surrender. No reason for you and your crew to be killed today. We just want your stuff.” He smiled at the thought of the plunder aboard the vessel.
Getha laughed. “They are changing course and starting main en
gines.”
Remy stopped smiling. “Mr. Vargi, please shoot that ship,” he ordered.
“Aye, Captain.” A moment later, laser beams ripped through the mining ship, causing secondary explosions. Drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, Remy awaited the results. “Direct hit,” came the report.
“Ship has no power. Life support down. She is adrift, Captain,” the Zontra added.
“Thank you, Getha. Bring the Javelin around and prepare the boarding tube.” Satisfied, Remy stood back up and strutted toward the doorway. “Mr. Vargi, assemble the crew and board that ship.”
The giant Gargin stood from his gunnery station. “With pleasure, Captain.”
“Getha, T’toli, the bridge is yours.” Remy walked off the bridge and to the lift, Mr. Vargi close behind.
Remy watched Mr. Vargi escort his prisoners marched onto the Javelin. Slapped and shoved into rows and columns across the cargo hold, they offered little resistance. Stepping toward the captured crew, Remy evaluated them. Some were wounded, some almost dead, and they were all scared. Their dirty, terrified faces looked up at him and he put on his best, most reassuring smile. “I am Captain Dark,” he began, gesturing broadly around them, “and this is my ship.” He brought his hands together. “And you are my property. Any questions?”
One of the prisoners opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Remy dropped his smile and lifted his plasma pistol. The super-heated energy blasted a gaping, cauterized crater in the man’s torso.
The corpse collapsed to the deck, the flesh around the crater still glowing and smoldering like cinders. “Questions? Anyone?” Some people cried, but no one spoke. “Wonderful. Get them in their cells.” He holstered his pistol and walked to the closest commlink and pressed the button. “Getha, we’re on. Detach and get us down to the moon. T’toli, radio Crossbones and have a crew come get this piece of shit for parts.” Remy spun and walked with cocky arrogance toward his cabin. “Mr. Vargi, I will be in my quarters.” I can still get a little training in before we land.
Walking back into the loading bay, the hot, wet air smelled of metal. Remy saw that twenty or so of his crew had opened the bay door as the ship cruised over the stampeding herd of three-legged creatures the crew had taken to calling ‘tripes.’ Several of the men were shooting at the fleeing beasts, taking bets, laughing among themselves, and cheering each other on. Remy walked up to the loading bay railing and looked out over the surface of the moon.
Billowing yellow and red clouds floated high in the sky. A light rain fell, wetting the rust-colored dirt. This moon… Remy thought back to when he discovered it with his first crew. It should not have such high gravity, nor a breathable atmosphere, but it did, making it a perfect hideaway. Using it as a private storage site for close to a decade, he could not count how many people he had left here over the years. Including my first crew. Anyone he wanted to make sure was never found, he brought here. Good times.
He drew his plasma pistol and fired a few shots at the herd, killing a beast with each bolt. “Mr. Vargi, I believe the crew would enjoy a few rounds from the forward battery!”
The Gargin rock-man smiled. “Aye, Captain!” Hurrying to a nearby panel, he fired a single shot with the mag gun. The explosive blast ripped through the herd, throwing expansive dust clouds and pieces of the beasts into the air, raining carnage across the surface below. The pirate crew roared with delight.
The large cruiser swept over the leaning rock towers and landed, the herd behind them frantically disappearing over a ridge. His crew extended the ramp and lowered the loading bay railing, then eagerly advanced as the captain shouted, “Half of you secure the ship and the rest down to the cave. Watch out for those spider-things. And for the big lizards—poisonous tongues on those.” Remy walked toward the cave, Mr. Vargi walking next to him. “Once it’s cleared, we’ll have the crew set up a couple of lookouts and have the slaves start hauling everything to the ship. We have extras at this point, so kill the ones that won’t fetch a decent price. No sense keeping them alive if we won’t get paid for it. I mean, am I right?” Remy chuckled.
Mr. Vargi shrugged and watched the dozens of slaves exiting the ship. Some were from captured ships, some from small spaceports or colonies they raided. A few they had taken in trade for goods and services. The ones that were too old, weak, or just ugly would not sell for much; this was their last walk. Once the ship was loaded, Remy planned to leave the dregs to face the big purple lizards that always came around. The crew seems to enjoy watching them scramble even more than shooting them. In any case, survivors are always more compliant once they see what can happen.
Remy stepped in front of the slaves. “Some of my things are in that cave. Valuable things. Once my crew has cleared any of the local fauna, you are going to carry my possessions from the cave to my ship. You will do this quickly and efficiently. Any questions?” A long silence drifted on the barely noticeable wind. “Wonderful.” He clapped his giant mate on the shoulder. “Mr. Vargi, please see to it.”
“Aye, Captain.” Turning back to the gathered captives, the Gargin shouted. “Is anyone too injured to work?”
“I can’t lift m…” The whine of a laser pistol cut him off as the beam pierced his forehead.
“Anyone else?” Mr. Vargi smirked. “Good. Then…” A scream echoed from the cave. Gunfire rang out. Another scream. He shouted at the crew, “Get these slaves back on the ship!” then turned and rushed toward Remy, who stood near the cave entrance. The gunfire stopped but the agonized cries of wounded men echoed up the tunnel—and finally the sound of someone running toward them.
Remy pulled his plasma pistol out of instinct, waiting to see what came down the tunnel. When one of the crew emerged, he sighed in relief. The crewman looked terrified, focusing only on escape. Damn spider-things. This is like the sixth time. He caught the man by the arm. “Calm down. It’s okay. What happened? Spider-thing?” He tried to look concerned, sympathetic. “Did it eat your friend?”
The crewmen staggered and Remy let him fall to the ground. “It was awful, captain. Just awful.”
“Yes. They can be a bit nasty.” Confused, Remy looked at his first mate. Mr. Vargi shrugged.
“Weren’t no spider, Captain!” The man jumped up and grabbed Remy by the lapels of his coat and pulled him close. His breath smelt of rot and whiskey. “It were a redheaded angel of death.”
Remy’s eyes went wide, and he suppressed a smile. He’s mad. But as the crewman looked deep into his eyes, he saw the genuine fear there and a cold spot grew where his confidence had just been. “Wait… you’re saying there’s a person down there?” He squinted into the dark of the tunnel, then skeptically at the smelly man.
“No person can move like that! It ain’t possible! She just walked through the men. Bullets and lasers just passed through her, Captain. And she shot a man with her eyes!” Letting go of the captain, the crewman took a few steps toward the ship. “With her eyes! We have to leave! We can’t stay here! It’s not safe!”
The cries of men begging for help echoed from the dark tunnel. Remy swallowed as the fear threatened to take hold, but he refused to show it. “You just want to leave those men? Your companions and brothers?”
“If you go down there, you’ll die!” The crewman shouted. “If we don’t leave now she’ll kill all of us.”
Can’t let him scare the crew. With a sigh, Remy pulled the trigger of his plasma pistol, and a good portion of the crewman’s chest, neck, and face ceased to exist, vanishing in a flurry of charged ions. The nearly headless body took a few clumsy steps and fell as Remy turned to the Gargin. “Mr. Vargi, I think there might be some spiders in the cave. Or maybe even a redhead. In any case, gather everyone but T’toli and Getha and two snipers and go down there to secure my possessions.” Remy’s eyes narrowed.
“Aye Captain.” Mr. Vargi gave a wicked smile.
24: Cam
The cavern, almost a perfect square, was nearly thirty meters long and almost as wide. Two
tunnels, narrow and roughly formed, entered the chamber at opposite far ends. Beams of light from cracks and gaps in the ceiling provided light during the day, but at night the beams from the flashlights vanished into the dark before illuminating the massive cavern.
Towards the center, a trio of heavily eroded columns attached the floor to the ceiling, which was nearly fifteen meters overhead. Stacked around the room, nearer to the larger tunnel the duo had entered from, were piles of shipping crates and storage containers. The stash seemed to be organized by contents, with food and supplies in one stack, another for gear and ammunition, and a third pile for random hardware and construction materials. Cam walked along the walls, shining his light towards the ceiling, mapping the chamber in his head. It looks like it was manufactured, not a natural formation. Even this far out in space, the Verse hates right angles.
Cam and Ace spent hours rooting through the supplies for anything that could be helpful in their plan. They had not seen any Tree-knockers or Shondas—Cam doubted they would suddenly show up—but they were still cautious. Using the heavier crates and containers, they built a wide, semi-circular defensive perimeter next to one of the three pillars
There were air cots and expanding polymer settlement. They even found a portable shower setup that Ace demanded they build as soon as they found it. She spent over an hour pouring jugs of water into the reservoir then took an hour-long shower with soap and shampoo. Once Ace emerged from drenching herself, Cam was surprised at how vivid her red hair was.
After getting a full night’s sleep, they had dug in and reinforced the makeshift bunker. Building the wall higher with the military crates, spacing them so they could aim and fire between boxes. They prepared escape routes and even created a few elevated positions above the tunnels. Cam was confident they could survive on the moon for years, maybe a decade with the supplies they found. It won’t be that long, Gwen, I promise.