The Mystery of the Solar Wind

The Mystery of the Solar Wind Page 9

by Lyz Russo

  *

 

  Meeting in the galley! Paean found herself a spot as close to the door as she could, at the heavy, antique Ironwood table – the only item in this galley that wasn’t light and modern. A squeaky clean galley; her and Shawn’s scrubbing had a lot to do with that!

  But despite the despotic drive of the Rainbow Romany for squeakiness, all was not so legal and white-winged here! Shawn had discovered a gas cooker in one of the cupboards. A combustive device! Hah! And a bottle of gas.

  Aw hey, she knew what this meeting was about. The Solar Wind had turned away from Port Hamilton.

  Why?

  She studied the gathering crew, wondering and stressing. Her two brothers: Shawn, chirpy as a chipmunk, and Ronan, tall and serious. Next to Ronan towered the blond titan Rhine Gold from Hamburg, whose real name was Reinhold Schatz; but the others were too lazy or dumb to learn to pronounce that. In ‘escaper’s position’ right at the end of the table lurked Ailyss, the quiet mouse from the machine room. Sour-looking girl that. Old Sherman was there, fiddling with his pipe. Captain Lascek moved into the galley and sat down, folding his arms and staring searchingly at Paean. He knew nothing. She should relax. Behind him Rushka, silent and dangerous, cut off the escape route by standing in the doorway. Guarding.

  Radomir Lascek nodded at Federi, who was suddenly there, leaning against the cupboard at the porthole watching them. Paean blinked. Where had he come from all of a sudden?

  “Captain says I got to put you in the picture.” Federi stretched lazily and moved forward into the light of the porthole. The countless jingles and gadgets he’d pinned to the scarf he kept wound around his head, glittered mysteriously. Beads, trinkets. There were even data cubes among them. Paean had by now decided that the man was a few chips short of a full processor.

  So what is the picture?, she wondered. He smiled at her; even one of his teeth caught the light and glinted, silver.

  “The picture is, we’ve turned. Any questions?”

  Young Rhine Gold raised a hand. Like in school, thought Paean.

  “What precisely happened out there, actually?”

  “We jibbed,” replied the gypsy cook, “precisely sixty-one degrees to port, catching the wind at twelve point two knots, and then adjusted the course due west.”

  “Why?”

  “So we can round the island.”

  “But...” Rhine Gold looked indecisive, “why, Federi?”

  The gypsy laughed. “To get to the other side, of course!”

  “There were black craft in the harbour,” Ronan spoke up. Paean glanced at him, proud of her brother’s musical tenor. “It’s to do with them, right? What are they?”

  “The Stabilizers?” Federi asked back. “Their job is to annoy -” another flash grin. “Anyone here who doesn’t know who the Stabs are?” Rhine Gold looked unenlightened. “Good. Next question?”

  Yes, thought Paean. Stabilizers. The long arm of the law; the Unicate military. Their job was to escort large, fragile ships or those with precious or dangerous cargo into port. Their other job... she’d seen it done in Dublin, the harbour Stabs encircling and boarding a ship... if you were a criminal, or perhaps just a trader who thought he could skimp on taxes... she shivered lightly. It was hair-raising.

  “So what is the Solar Wind doing running from the Stabs?” she challenged, then bit her lip.

  And what were you running away from, in Dublin?

  She blinked. It took her a moment to realize that Federi hadn’t actually voiced that dangerous question. He hadn’t yet answered. Was insanity contagious?

  “Don’t be illogical, little songbird,” came his amused response. “We’re not running, we’re reaching. The wind is just ahead of the beam. At this rate...” A shadow seemed to move across his face. Paean suddenly had the impression that the gypsy could genuinely see the future – and the future looked grim.

  “But Federi,” Shawney piped up. “What are the vultures doing in Hamilton Harbour? I thought she were a free port?”

  Paean nearly swallowed her tongue. Vultures? Free port? That was gangster speak! What was Shawney doing thinking in those lines? Who had primed him?

  “Kaboom!” came an explosion from the crazy. “Finally, the right question! What indeed?”

  It was Federi’s bad influence that had Shawn thinking like a thug, decided Paean. She glared at the man, unimpressed with his aping around. No doubt Shawn would now want to grow his hair long too and hang dead birds and fish bones in it.

  Federi grinned at Shawn, then glared at everyone else.

  “Worthy colleagues,” he announced in mock pompousness, “the situation we find ourselves in is the following. No electrics!”

  The response was general confusion.

  “No reheating cold coffee in the ultra-glare.” He glared at Rhine Gold and Ronan. “No blip messages; no jokes shared on open blinkiethingie; in fact you switch off your blinkiethingie right now and stick it in your pockety thingie. No devices of any sort! Not even a light. They can hear a light being switched on.” He paused, confused. “Of course they can see a light too. So, no lights on the ship after dark. Anyone who accidentally leans against a switch walks the plank. Understood?”

  He had them all mesmerized, realized Paean. They just hung on his words, waiting for the next instruction.

  “Once it’s dark...” he paused and glanced at the Captain, and carried on, “some of us will go ashore in the Stormrider. Only those,” he glared at Ronan, “with business ashore, Donegal! Anyone trying to stow away on the lifeboat will be thrown overboard!”

  Shawn giggled. “We can swim, Federi!”

  “There are sharks, lots of sharks,” said the gypsy dramatically, his falcon eyebrows moving to emphasize the point. His white teeth flashed in a grin, flawless except for that one silver eye-tooth. “Any further questions, anyone?”

  They were merely watching him in fascination.

  His steely smile settled on the machine room assistant, Ailyss. She hadn’t even glanced up.

  “Any questions, Ailyss?”

  She looked up, bored. “What’s for lunch?”

  “Lunch?” The question unbalanced him. “You’re asking me, the cook? Cor, Ailyss! Let me check the menu! Yup, says fish ‘n chips here, on the fridge. Again. Course this is a ship!” He grinned.

  Paean scowled. There was no menu on the fridge! What was this?

  “So in which way were you supposed to put us in the picture?” she shot. And snapped her mouth shut for the second time.

  A smile; an imperceptible shake of the head.

  “That is the picture, dulciuri,” Federi informed her. “Ladies and gents, this session of tease-the-dogsbody is now closed. Are all instructions understood?”

  The Captain got up and nodded briskly. “Well done, Federi!” He left the galley.

  Paean couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “What precisely is he supposed to have done well? That wasn’t informative at all!” she raged. “Some real answers would have been welcome!” She glanced at the gypsy. He was gone.

  “What is it you want to know?” asked Ronan sharply. “You want those silly rumours confirmed that are flying around the ship? Captain is an alien? Get real, Paean!”

  She snorted. “Well, Ro, you can stop patronizing me right now! It would be nice to know why – aargh!”

  Rushka had planted herself very suddenly in front of Paean, putting down a firm boot.

  “Donegals! Captain demands to see you in the boardroom.”

  Paean iced. Ronan watched Rushka turn and walk off. She had an explosive way of saying “Donegals”! She was uncanny! Did she carry a knife in her knee-high boots?

  “Come on, Pae, Shawn.” Ronan and his sibs followed the unfathomable Rushka.

  “Think it’s that serious?” Radomir Lascek studied his gypsy with a scowl.


  “They’re frozen solid with fear,” replied Federi. “ ‘s got to be serious! Captain, think Hamilton is about them?”

  Lascek laughed without humour. “We should be so lucky! You know what Hamilton’s about! Keep an eye, Federi. Here they come.”

  Shawn scanned the Solar Wind’s blue boardroom as they entered. He had been in here once, investigating, and Federi had found him and given him something to do in the galley, with a warning that the boardroom was off-limits. The door to the boardroom was always closed. It was reserved for officers’ meetings.

  A long pine-coloured meeting table and chairs dominated the room, along with a plush dark-blue neofibre carpet, smelling slightly musty from the damp air. A great flat screen was mounted on the stern-facing wall; tiny black gadgets in all the top corners. Shawn knew what they were: Closed-circuit cameras. A wooden-looking cabinet was mounted on the other wall, with a safe combination lock. He wondered what was hidden so securely in there. Treasures? Drugs? Secret instructions to world domination?

  The remaining wall space, where it wasn’t housing closed cupboards, was decorated sparsely with woodcarvings, one here, one there. Ship scenes; battles on the sea, lighthouses submerged in tidal waves; one scene of a Zephyr – the Solar Wind? – flying off into the sunset. Yes, flying. Having lifted off from the waves.

  The Captain was waiting for them. Rushka had positioned herself at the door again; Federi, in a corner, cross-legged on an office chair, assembling something small. Being inconspicuous. How had he got to the boardroom without passing them? Was this ship riddled with secret passages?

  Blond Rhine Gold was there too. So, all the new crew. But not Ailyss. Shawn wondered about Ailyss.

  Ronan tried to move to a position from where he had an overview of everyone, and found he couldn’t. Either he lost sight of Federi, or Rushka, or his younger siblings. It was maddening.

 

  Paean watched in trepidation as Radomir Lascek got up and walked past their ranks with slow, measured paces. He stopped right in front of Rhine Gold. The young German swallowed, his blue eyes round. He was half a head taller than the Captain. Paean wondered why he was looking so guilty, if he was perhaps a fugitive too.

  “This is too important to discuss in the galley,” said Lascek. “And you should hear it from your Captain, not your cook. Federi did a marvellous job.”

  Paean couldn’t stand it any longer. “Captain, in which way was he supposed to put us in the picture? We’ve learnt nothing!” She glared at the gypsy. He smiled innocently at her.

  “That’s right,” replied Lascek genially. “But we have. What’s for lunch, Tzigan!” Federi grinned. Lascek’s smile dropped away and he glared at the crew. “Sailors, the one who leaks any of this to Ailyss walks the plank.”

  Ailyss! This was about Ailyss! Paean started releasing a pent-up breath.

  “As for you, Paean Donegal…” said Radomir Lascek.

  The breath stopped in her throat. Paean stared at the Captain, frightened.

  “Would you dare to repeat that question you asked Federi?” demanded Lascek with an intimidating frown.

  “No,” she said shakily. “Sorry about asking.”

  Lascek and Federi exchanged puzzled glances. Federi laughed brightly. What on Earth did Captain Lascek see in this madman, that he allowed him so close to the core secrets? Or had knowing those secrets driven Federi insane?

  “Paean Donegal, repeat your question!” commanded Radomir Lascek. “It was an interesting question.”

  “Why… are we running from the Stabilizers?” muttered Paean, wishing she were elsewhere.

  “Thank you, Miss Donegal! And there’s another question you are burning to ask.”

  She stared at them both in fear. How did they know? This mind-conjuring was rattling her chains.

  “Get on with it!” barked Lascek.

  “The ship I boarded in Dublin was the ‘San Diego’,” she said.

  Lascek nodded at Federi.

  “Was a false identity,” replied the gypsy cook.

  Paean gasped.

  “Why were we using a false identity, Captain?” asked Ronan quizzically.

  The Captain laughed aloud.

  “Welcome aboard, Donegals, and Mr Schatz,” announced Captain Radomir Lascek. “Aboard my pirate ship, the Solar Wind!”

 

 

  3 - Port Hamilton

 

 

  “The problem lies right here,” said Captain Lascek, pointing to Port Hamilton on the map on the boardroom’s console screen. “What on earth are the Stabs doing here in such force?” He tapped the flat screen thoughtfully with his pen, gazing at his gathered officers. Port Hamilton zoomed in and out behind him with every second tap.

  Silence met him. They stared back at him indecisively: Rushka, Federi, old Sherman Dougherty, Jonathan Marsden, Dr Jake, Dr Judith – and Shawn. (“Why me?” the boy had asked Federi, and the gypsy had replied: “Captain moves in mysterious ways.”)

  The Captain folded his arms. “Well, we’ll find out tonight what they’re up to. Blasted nuisance!”

 

  “I’m concerned!” Rhine Gold was helping Ronan coil up lines. Extra lines. Their function was not clear, as the tensioning of the Solar Wind’s sails happened automatically, via electronically controlled coils on the large scale, and the micro-tensors for fine-tuning. “One is hired on a ship and finds oneself entangled with pirates! Verbrannt, Ronan!”

  Verbrannt indeed, thought Ronan. Not bad enough that the Unicate was hunting them. It would be practically impossible to disappear now, if the ship they arrived in was a pirate.

  “It’s a tough one,” he agreed, wishing he had a solution for himself and his sibs. Actually, Rhine Gold had the easier deal. “Didn’t he give you the option of getting off here? And with a spotless record?”

  “A spotless record?” The tall young man from Hamburg shook his head sadly. “Joking, Ronan. The Unicate is going to find out sooner or later that one has spent time on such a ship. He can forge my travel documents all he likes. They will pick it up. The safest is really to stay aboard until we’re in the uncivilized regions.”

  “You’re staying on until Hawaii?” asked Ronan.

  “That seems like a good plan. I only have to keep my hands clean though. I won’t be involved in any looting or shooting or whatever.”

  “Fair,” said Ronan.

  He wished he could make a similar resolution. Essentially he also saw himself as law-abiding and good, like Rhine Gold. Only he had the nasty feeling that he’d never be given that choice. After Dublin... Captain knew something. They had become prisoners on the very ship on which they had been hoping to flee. He worried what Captain was going to do to them.

  They ought to jump ship at the very next port where the Solar Wind landed, and hang the wages!

 

  “Pirates, huh!” Shawn was dicing vegetables with new aplomb. The officer’s meeting had been over for an hour now. Lunch was overdue. Suddenly, not going ashore because the Solar Wind was hunted, was a lot more exciting than going ashore.

  It also meant, and he understood this clearly, that for now the Donegal Troubles were safe from the blasted Unicate. By a simple function of being in the right place. Clearly Captain had experience getting away, or he wouldn’t be a pirate still. This was altogether good news. Maybe if they could just stay on as extra pirates… He wondered what it would be like, boarding and looting vessels. Whether he’d be given a real bolt gun, like the police wielded in Dublin.

  But coming to think of it – you couldn’t be a pirate with only a bolt gun! They only immobilized people. These pirates probably had guns that shot something more tangible. Bullets or laser or fire or something. And knives. And... silver teeth!

  Federi grinned darkly. “Pass me that – never mind.” He fetched the egg lifter himself. There was a pi
le of newly peeled potatoes sitting on the Ironwood table. “Shawn, don’t get your hopes up. There won’t be any bloodshed.”

  Shawn blinked, puzzled. “Why not?” How could you be a pirate and not do bloodshed?

  “Because Captain doesn’t believe in unnecessary killing,” said the gypsy. “We’re not that kind of pirate.” He started filleting one of two metre-long deep-sea tunas that Wolf Svendsson, the assistant engineer, had pulled out of the sea earlier. Shawn watched, fascinated. He picked up one of the translucent little scales that were coming off under Federi’s expert knife.

  “Fancy,” he said.

  “There are classified documentary chips no larger than that,” commented Federi, glancing briefly at Shawn’s intent face. The kid was on a track about spies, technology and danger. Perhaps those topics would throw the young boy off the track of boarding and looting, slashing throats and keelhauling. Federi frowned. That had been psychologically ingenious of Captain! Telling a young boy of twelve that they were pirates! Inaccurate, too.

  Outside, the turquoise waves splashed against the Solar Wind’s white hull. The ship turned a little on its anchor chain. The sunlit island came into view through the starboard-side porthole. The knife sliced the fish-belly open.

  “Evisceration,” said Shawn with a grin.

  “Next time, your turn,” replied Federi. “So observe!”

 

  The paradise of blue sea and green shore lay smiling in the afternoon sun. A breeze blew here on the outer deck, by the bowsprit with the not-quite-figurehead, where Paean was standing staring into the hazy distance. It was nearing four o’clock. The afternoon seemed endless, working on her overstretched patience.

  Oh hell, the Solar Wind was a pirate ship! Hadn’t they just boarded the ship so they could get away from being hunted? Now they were stuck in one place, fixed targets, and... They ought to escape! But she couldn’t even discuss it with her brothers.

  She had finished scrubbing all the heads, not that she’d had orders to do so. She had tidied and swept all the cabins on the lower deck, and the infirmary – a glum, cluttered little yellow cabin on the starboard side of the lower crew deck. It sported two bunks on opposing walls, a too-small porthole covered with a pale grey vertical blind, white metal medical cabinets mounted against every available wall – bulkhead, they called the walls; a drip stand that was clipped to the wall, fixed-mounted machinery with touch-buttons and knobs and so many indicator needles and displays, and a wall-mounted flat screen. The infirmary, for all it was cramped, was clean, well-equipped and functional; but it gave Paean the creeps.

  The crew cabins weren’t any larger, on the lower deck. Her own was two doors down from the infirmary. The lone door on the port side, across the passage from her cabin, was always closed; on the rare occasions she had tried the handle, it had been locked.

  Her own frugal little cubicle was by no means a skimp. All cabins on the lower crew deck were that small. She kept the pull-down bunks opposite her own, and the one overhead hers, secured to the bulkheads to have a bit more room to move. Not that her room at home in Molly Street had been that much larger.

  And now she’d run out of things to do. It wasn’t her watch anyway; she was supposed to be off-duty. So she could stress herself into shreds. Ooh, and the sea had to be so darned blue, and the day so sunshiny! Belying what was lurking beneath the surface.

  “What’s eating you, girl?”

  Paean turned and stared at Federi, rattled.

  So it was interrogation time? For one who jingled and squeaked when he walked, he’d crept up on her without a sound! Blooming stealthy. And his dress code was a walking disaster. Sometimes she wondered if he were a ghost.

  “Och,” she said listlessly and flashed him an insincere smile.

  Federi returned her smile and took a spot leaning against the rail next to her; there above the mermaid figurehead that wasn’t really one. Just a blob of compounding. In Dublin she’d thought the Mermaid’s eyes were following her around. Another illusion.

  “Missing Dublin?” he asked gently.

  “Where’s Dublin,” replied Paean acridly. Gentleness was the last thing she needed now. She’d left a lot of friends behind in Molly Street. Blast him!

  “Sorry I gave you trouble, back in the galley,” said Federi. “Wasn’t in a position to answer you. You heard the Captain.”

  Ah yes. Because of Ailyss.

  “So what’s she supposedly done?” snapped Paean.

  Federi smiled regretfully. “Classified, young lady. Sorry.”

  Paean snorted. “So if this is a pirate ship, does this mean everyone’s a pirate? The whole crew?”

  “That’s what it means, little songbird,” smiled Federi. “Unless you’d rather be a hostage…?” He peered at her. “Thought not.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. They were hostages.

  They both stared across the deck and at the sea and the island, where the gulls were circling. And Paean sighed. She wished there were a chance of living, again.

  She thought back to countless rainy afternoons in her old schoolteacher’s musty living room. A room lined with genuine old bookshelves, with ancient books made from original paper, and slightly newer ones on permaprint, on every conceivable topic. The old teacher didn’t believe in electronic literature; she used to say that the Unicate could control what you read, that way, and could even erase it. Mrs Flanagan, the rebel teacher, her grey hair in a tidy knot, subversively reading history or philosophy to the children of Molly Street who were gathered on her carpet.

  Mrs Flanagan, who had hidden the Donegal sibs in her study and concocted a wild story for the Unicate police, charming them old-lady style while the sibs had pressed their ears to the door trying to hear what she was saying.

  “I miss her,” she muttered, not even aware that she was speaking aloud. “She taught us such a lot!”

  “Your old teacher?” asked Federi.

  She inhaled sharply. What? She hadn’t told him anything! Either he was sharp as a flaming laser, or he could jolly well read minds!

  “She taught you things you didn’t learn in school?” guessed the gypsy. “History? Culture?”

  Subversive content. Paean knew very well that Mrs Flanagan ran a huge risk. The Unicate had outlawed all knowledge and culture that dated back more than thirty years. They discouraged remembering even five years, and if they found you keeping records...

  “So when last did you attend actual school?” asked Federi with a knowing smile.

  Oh, for crying out loud!

  “We’re done with school,” she announced defiantly. “It’s only compulsory until age sixteen. And I’m… sixteen.”

  “Give or take,” laughed Federi. “So, shey, how many months short of junior adult status?”

  “I told you, I’m…”

  “Not a very practised liar,” completed Federi, winking at her. “You were raised to be honest, dulciuri, that is your biggest problem here. Relax, little bird. Got my own secrets. Won’t give yours away. Never heard of honour amongst thieves?”

  Paean rolled her eyes.

  “So,” prompted Federi, “fourteen?”

  “I was born the thirteenth of August, on the century,” she said angrily. “Year Zero. It’s twenty-one-sixteen, so work it out, won’t you?” She ground her teeth and added, annoyed, “I’m not a child, Federi! Just not very tall.”

  Federi’s gaze wandered into the hazy distance. For a moment he seemed miles away. Probably trying to do the calculation she had just challenged him to. The ship turned slowly on its anchor chain, rocking gently on the waves.

  “You’re lonely and sad,” he diagnosed. “Could try telling Federi about it?”

  “Or I could try falling off the face of the Earth,” she replied moodily. “Sorry, Federi. Just – I don’t think you can help us.” She glanced down at her hands. The blood was still stick
ing to them; ghost blood that would never go away. And she looked up and noted with fright that he’d followed her glance. “Don’t think anybody can help me,” she said under her breath.

  “Captain might,” replied Federi quietly.

  She stared disbelievingly at him. Captain would not even bother to wait for the next port before throwing them off the ship.

  “Captain’s a dangerous man, in’t he?”

  The gypsy bared his teeth. “The Pirate Captain? Most dangerous man I’ve ever come across!”

  Paean nodded. She’d thought so.

  “Wish there were somewhere on this ship where my brothers and I…” Another sigh; another gloomy shrug. Hells, she couldn’t tell him!

  “Ah,” said Federi, brightening up. “For a sibs’ meeting. Minunat! But not in the cabins, little hummingbird.”

  “Didn’t think so,” agreed Paean. “People listening in?”

  “Electronic eyes,” said Federi. “Go check. In the top corners. And hidden microphones. The whole ship is riddled with them. Safety measure. You keep this to yourself, hai shala?”

  “Course,” said Paean seriously. “Is there any place…”

  Federi laughed softly. Was like picking a porcupine’s pockets, talking to this one!

  “Come,” he said, leading her away from the prow, down the steps of the small elevated jib deck onto the main deck. “Let me show you a spot!”

 

  Captain Radomir Lascek, on the bridge with his Second-in-Charge Jonathan Marsden, frowned and watched how his gypsy out there on the deck showed the Donegal girl the one place on the ship that was unsupervised. Well, the only one that was accessible to her. In the jib storage area, at the prow, under the small rain deck with a roll-down gate. Between crates and vats and sails. No sensors there.

  A solution still had to be devised concerning those three mischief-makers! The Donegal Troubles, the youngest had called their band. Lascek needed to find out their secret.

  Rushka arrived back on the bridge. She followed the Captain’s gaze.

  “Nearly time to get the Stormrider ready,” said Lascek. He pointed at Federi, shaking his head. “The faithless rogue! He’s making the Donegals aware of the eyes.”

  Rushka laughed softly.

  “You’re finding this funny?” the Captain snapped at her.

  “Very!”

  “Well, you would,” growled Lascek. “He’s covered for you often enough!”

  “This is really funny,” said Rushka, watching how Federi and Paean rounded up Ronan and Shawn.

  “Yes! Right where I can see them plotting and scheming,” retorted the Captain. “I suppose I should see it the other way. At least I’ll know when their conference will be finished!”

  “They’re not plotting and scheming, they’re coming to grips,” Jon Marsden, the First Mate pointed out from where he was busy at the console. “Most honest people are a little bit shocked when they find out they have just turned into pirates!”

  “Honest, those three?” wondered Lascek.

 

  “Are you sure this is a good spot?” asked Paean doubtfully.

  “ ‘s good as any,” said Federi. “Make yourselves comfortable. Captain can see where you’ve gone, but he can’t hear what you’re discussing.”

  “But you can,” grinned Shawn.

  “Well observed,” said the gypsy. “La revedere!” He strolled off.

  The glint of something small caught Paean’s attention. She picked it up. It was a minute electronic gadget, no larger than a lentil.

  Shawn had a look at it, squinting in the low light, and then Ronan did too.

  “A microphone,” he said with a grin.

  “Thieves’ honour,” laughed Paean.

 

  No Ceilidh tonight. Bermuda’s lights glittered in the post-gloaming gloom. Paean hung onto the rail, the evening breeze blowing spray into her hair.

  She felt somewhat better than this afternoon. According to Ronan, it was alright to shelter on an illegal trader for a while provided that nobody exposed their secret to anyone. It helped the invisibility along; such things as customs police checks didn’t apply, which solved a lot of problems. He was going to try working it through Rhine Gold that the three of them could also get clean papers from Captain when they arrived in Hawaii. The concept of jumping ship without Captain’s agreement was not viable anymore; the authorities would pick them up. The most important thing now was to be excellent deck hands and cause no trouble. And possibly, to build good relations so that nobody wanted to dig up dirt about them. Doubtlessly every single crew member – barring maybe Rhine Gold – had some or other reason to evade the law on an illegal trader. Paean noticed that Ronan absolutely refused to speak the word “pirate”.

  Good relations. Shawn had no problem with this, Paean knew. Already her little brother had become very friendly with the gypsy, and Ronan, too, had made firm friends with Rhine Gold. She herself was a little out of the water there; if she could decide to like anyone on this ship, she’d maybe try to connect. But it felt rather pointless. How ironic, she thought, when she, Paean Donegal, had been the main socialite and organizer on the block back in Dublin!

  Her eyes followed the Stormrider, the silent electric motorboat that was headed for the shore, carrying Captain, Marsden, Dr Judith and Federi. She feared them, at least, most of them; but her fervent wishes went with them. Let them be safe, let them return soon, so they could weigh anchor and sail away from this fraught island!

  Another presence next to her. She turned and saw Ailyss leaning against the rail too, studying her. And she thought of the Captain’s warning.

  The dark-haired girl said nothing, just studied her. In the very near dark each recognized the fear in the other’s eyes.

  Whatever the other girl was hiding, she was not going to tell. And Paean herself – she’d have liked a friend, but sharing her own secret? Friends, Paean Donegal realized, were something of the past. She couldn’t do it. She sighed and moved off towards the hatch. Sorry, Ailyss. Sorry, Ronan.

 

  Paean descended to the galley where Sherman had gathered the young crew around Federi’s Ironwood Table and was telling fabulous stories in the dark, his voice hushed. Ships drowning in tidal waves. Rocks ripping holes in hulls. Submerged debris floating about, banging into a ship. Huge quakes…

  As though they didn’t have enough disaster in real life! Paean recalled how Ronan had tried picking some of Sherman’s stories apart for their glaring logical inconsistencies. He had ended up scrubbing decks until midnight, a result of Federi’s wrath. It seemed as though on this pirate ship, the entertainers stuck together.

  By that logic the Donegals should stick to old Sherman and Federi as well. She shrugged impatiently and took herself off down the unlit passages, back downstairs to her cabin, sitting on her bunk in the dark wishing she had brought her diary with her. Although that was pointless. What she wanted to write, must never ever be committed to paper. It would be her end, and that of her brothers.

 

  Down in the machine room, Wolf Svendsson was checking on the various drives with Ailyss by the dim light of torches. Dr Jake’s workplace was a calm, organized area; where most ships had some damp in their bilges, the Solar Wind’s were kept clean and dry. Most apparatus in here was stowed safely in white metal casings, with all sorts of indicator switches, needles and mini-screens to keep the engineers informed of the status. There was a terminal of the ship’s processor where Wolf spend a lot of time programming; metal cabinets housing the diving gear and other necessary gadgetry; and the water desalination system. The Solar Wind, like all modern vessels, derived her drinking water straight from the sea.

  Some of the back parts of the machine room were also used for storage. Great plywood crates were stashed against each other, containing mostly torpedoes, ammunition and other everyday necessities. Feder
i now and then took the liberty of storing food there, if his pantry as well as his little storage area on the main deck got overloaded. This didn’t suit Wolf all that well. The harbours had a way of selling one roaches along with those food crates. And today’s roaches were descended from the poison-proof survivors of the nuclear wars of the Sixties. A roach in the works could cause all sorts of electronic nonsense, and mostly, of course, more roaches. Wolf kept a slipper at hand for just such emergencies.

  It was the first time since Ailyss was hired that the two colleagues were really alone; Dr Jake, the ship’s engineer, was always there guiding and teaching and supervising. This way it was nearly impossible to get into conversation with the dark-haired mystery girl.

  “So, are you enjoying it on the ship?” asked Wolf.

  “It’ll do,” shrugged Ailyss.

  “How old are you anyhow?”

  “Twenty,” said Ailyss.

  “I’m twenty-two.”

  An awkward silence followed. Wolf was discovering that Ailyss was not the talkative type.

  “Where did you graduate?” he asked, trying again.

  “You wouldn’t recognize the name,” replied Ailyss.

  “Oh.”

  Another little silence ensued. A disjointed thought of dentists and pliers crept into Wolf’s mind.

  “Got any sibs?” he asked.

  “Is this an interrogation?” Ailyss shot back.

  “Crypts!” said Wolf, put out. “Sorry I asked!”

  They continued their work routine in silence.

 

  At stroke eleven the shore party met back at the Stormrider with their various purchases. They had only managed to take on enough food supplies to last them a few days, more was not possible with this small manual mode of shopping. Few shops had been open; it limited what they could get. This meant they had to restock somewhere else within the next week.

  “Found out anything?” Jonathan Marsden asked Federi.

  “They’re all out drinking,” replied the gypsy. “Not that they’d be making sense when they’re sober. Heads full of girlfriends, mum about job. ‘s a pretty good team that,” he grinned approvingly. “Dratted pity they’re on the wrong side!”

  “And that’s not all,” prompted Marsden.

  “Darned right,” agreed Federi. “Will tell you the rest on the ship. ‘Fraid you might not believe it!”

 

  Half an hour later, with everyone back aboard, the Solar Wind set sail for Plymouth. Paean heaved an enormous sigh of relief to be turning her back on Bermuda. She spelt the Unicate with four letters. D-e-t-h. Mrs Flanagan would have made her sit and write it out twenty times if she had known.

 

  Shawn sat in the cool, misty Crow’s Nest, the night wind tousling his hair, finally being allowed to play his ocarina again. The moisture added a muted, somewhat fuzzy quality to the sound of the clay whistle.

  It was dark up here; the small guiding lights that studded the foremast at the handholds, had been dimmed down to a minimal glow, barely more than reflectors, to allow for better outward vision. The only reason they were not simply off was deck safety. There were no lights on the Crow’s Nest itself.

  While the Zephyr tuned her own sails to the wind, under the electronic control of the CPU and the command of the bridge, there were still tasks to be done on deck. Jon Marsden and Rushka were down there, along with Rhine Gold and Ronan, checking things and degreasing the winches which had a bad habit of becoming tacky if you left them – a function of the compounding greasing mixture, and sea salt. But the activities were all low-key and muted – no Ceilidh tonight!

  The presence of those Stabs in Hamilton Harbour worried them all. Captain expected an attack from the Unicate; Shawn’s responsibility was in the Crow’s Nest, as early warning system.

  He had been equipped with all sorts of nice gadgetry. A wrist-com was one; another, an advanced set of electronic binoculars. Federi had given him a glass-lens one too, pointing out that they were traversing an area prone to electric storms. Electronic gadgetry wasn’t always completely reliable here. There were several such places on Earth’s oceans, the gypsy had explained. Shawn was to ask Sherman about it.

  The gadgets were for his job. Shawn was now part of the alert system of the ship, a human high-tech sensor. Sitting inside yet another sensor. Because that was what the Crow’s Nest was. No other ship had such a structure.

  The Crow’s Nest was the one visual feature the Captain kept flaunting in the Unicate’s face. Ships these days were identified by satellite, not by sight. A reason why they had not been pursued from Hamilton. Usually by the time someone cottoned on that the ship that was just leaving had a Crow’s Nest, the Solar Wind was well beyond reach.

  Shawn had learnt that Captain enjoyed allowing people sightings. He usually removed the false name and identity just as they left a port. Sometimes this resulted in interesting chases, but according to Federi the Solar Wind was the fastest ship moving on today’s oceans, so there was no real worry unless they sailed into a trap. And to prevent just that, Shawn had been stationed in the Crow’s Nest.

  “Oh, hi, Federi!” Shawn watched as the gypsy climbed into the rigging. “Was the shore fun?”

  Federi shot him a wry grin. “Don’t like land much,” he commented. “But, yes, eat your heart out, Donegal, I’ve been to a pub.”

  “Pooh, I can smell it,” laughed Shawn. “Smoke all over! Any good music?”

  “Nothing like the Donegals,” said Federi. “Spotted any whales yet?”

  “Nope!” This got Shawn’s heart racing. Whales? He had thought they were extinct! “Are there whales here?”

  “Course there are whales, boy! This is the Ocean!” The gypsy laughed.

  Shawn peered at the dark waves with his fancy binoculars.

  “Found out why the Stabs are in a free port?” he asked, only listening with half an ear. What if a whale surfaced while he was not paying attention?

  “A pirate port, in Unicate speak,” added Federi. “Fact is, they haven’t attacked Hamilton yet. She’s still a free city.” He stared over the dark sea, into the distance.

  For how long would Hamilton remain a free port, now that the Stabs had given her attention? How many other free places would be brought under the merciless rule of that corrupt organization now?

  “Federi,” said Shawn, “why are we pirates, if we don’t do bloodshed?”

  “Because the Unicate calls us that. We don’t exactly stick to their laws.”

  A disappointing answer. Shawn had hoped for treasure, boarding and looting, daring stunts and glorious sea battles.

  “But if they call us that anyway, and if they hunt us anyway…” The boy got an evil little grin. “Shouldn’t we exploit that a little bit?”

  “Oh, Donegal!” Federi laughed. “You worry me! You’re more of a pirate than Federi!”

 

  Lascek had business partners and suppliers in Hamilton and other free ports. Federi wondered whether one of those business partners had been a bit too eager to make a buck out of Radomir Lascek. Perhaps some of them were trying to palm in the small fortune the Unicate promised for his capture? But somehow his gypsy radar, his internal sense of truth, told him that the answer lay closer. Much closer. On the Solar Wind herself, in fact. And perhaps this time, worried Federi, the spy they had loaded along with the new crew had been one too many. It had gone badly wrong in the past.

  “In the Pacific,” he said dreamily, “where there’s less Unicate and more Freedom… there you might understand. We are basically just traders, like everybody else!”

  “What do we trade?”

  Federi laughed. “Not going to tell you! Should ask Captain, if you’re so curious!” He was not going to inform Shawn that they laid traps for and captured Unicate military vessels, put the crew ashore and sold the ships to the Rebellion; or that they trapped and cau
ght Rebellion craft, corrupted or unloaded the crew and sold the vessel to other contacts inside the Unicate! But all that was just a day-job. Captain Radomir was a big picture person. He had a much larger plan.

  “Federi,” said Shawn, “what are we going to Hawaii for?”

  The gypsy considered. The Donegals had been briefed. Briefly. But disclosing Captain’s plans – he wasn’t authorized to do that.

  “Trade, of course,” he said lightly.

 

  Shawn grinned. Evasive gypsy!

  But at that moment something else drew his attention. Was that a light in the distance? Shawn peered through his electronic binoculars and got only disturbance. He moved the binoculars through their various options – no use. Och, dratted electric storm! As predicted! He grunted impatiently and reached for his glass lens binoculars.

  Federi trained his own set of glass lenses on the light as well. Shawn activated his wrist-com.

  “Captain, ship sighted about – er – twenty degrees starboard. Can’t see anything through the electronic binoculars, can’t see enough through the glass ones. How do I get an identification?”

  “Satellite,” came the answer. “Good work, Donegal. She doesn’t show on the Solar Wind’s radar. Probably shielded. I’ll identify the vessel.”

  Shawn kept his binoculars trained on the other ship. It seemed to be getting bigger…

  “Captain, they‘re coming towards us! At a rate!”

  “I know, Shawn. I’ve nearly got the identification.”

  Shawn strained his eyes. The other ship was darker in colour than the white Solar Wind; more Shawn couldn’t really be sure of in the treacherous partial moonlight. The other ship’s speed was surprising. The vessel probably ran on fuel cells. Therefore, probably military. He glanced at Federi, concerned. The gypsy had transmuted into that sharp, sinister entity again. A subtle shift. It scared Shawn.

  “If Captain identifies them by satellite, can’t they identify us too?” he asked, worried.

  “They have, long since,” said Federi darkly. “Can bet on that!”

 

  Not by satellite, the Romany refrained from adding. It was more complex than that…

  If Federi could have had a glimpse from a bird’s eye view, he’d have been a lot more worried still. Hamilton Port was where the main force of Stabilizer T-craft lay. Small, agile motorboats built for all sorts of fast manoeuvres in the comparatively shallow waters of a harbour. But all around the islands, in regular intervals with their radar fields overlapping, military speed-ships were positioned, Pursuers, which were equipped with fuel cell drives running on hydrogen gas. These vessels were built for bursts of extreme speed over short distances, and their spacing was such that once in view of Hamilton, the Pirate could not escape without registering on at least one Pursuer’s radar screen. The Solar Wind had sailed into the Unicate’s net.

  “Donegal, come in!” came the Captain’s shouted command over the wrist-com. “Come down from there instantly! All hands below deck! Shout it to them! Leave nobody out! Hurry!”

  “All hands below deck!” yelled Shawn as he shimmied down the rigging like a monkey, followed by the gypsy who grabbed a rope and slid down it. “Captain’s orders: All hands below deck!”

  “All hands below deck!” bellowed Captain Lascek over the intercom. “Boardroom! Accounting system! Roll call!”

  Seconds later everyone was gathering in the boardroom. Jonathan Marsden was already taking roll call, making marks at the voices that weren’t yet responding and reading them again at the end of the roll call. All were accounted for. All were below deck. And the Unicate vessel was still bearing down on them.

  “Marsden! Make sure nobody moves a foot outside! It would be lethal!”

  Rushka and Federi were leaving the boardroom at a run.

  “What are they doing?” Paean asked, at no one in particular.

  “Checking that all portholes are closed,” said the elderly Doc Judith. “Run, Paean, help them! See there, over the doors? Those electronic displays? Run to the galley, Paean, check those two. Make sure they’re good and tight.”

  Shawn was running after his sister.

  “And now?”

  “Checking portholes, bro! Come!”

 

  Aboard the Unicate MS Hun, Captain Anya Miller blinked. Was it possible?

  “What the hell is that maniac doing?“

  Just a second back she had everything fixed to capture the entire Solar Wind, crew, Pirate Captain and all. What a fortune she’d be palming in, along with the deep satisfaction of having outwitted Radomir Lascek! Now before her eyes the white sails of the Zephyr folded up like bat’s wings, disappearing into the booms as the latter lifted up to align with the masts, which telescoped a bit and laid themselves down gently on the deck. Something glinted. She peered, trying to see what it was, and got a better view as her search-beam brushed the Solar Wind with the lift of a wave. It was hooks – springing up out of the deck to secure the folded-up rigging down. The next moment the entire ship simply – sank! She saw a vague glow vanishing under water.

 

  4 - Undertow

 

  Anya Miller cursed. The Solar Wind had got away from her before, merely by speed. But at some point she had been promoted into a position where she could choose her own ship; and that was how she was Captain of the Hun, the fastest craft in the entire military force. By normal conceivable means the Solar Wind could not outrun her. But then, Radomir Lascek wasn’t normal. He had just provided new proof.

  “Get a grip, ladies!” snapped Miller. “Get a fix on that boat and follow! Move!” She gazed at the spot where the Solar Wind had vanished. “And close your damned mouth, Anyhow! This time the old crook is not getting away!”

  She had positioned herself perfectly. She had been accurate with the assumption that Lascek would not be able to stock up the way he needed to in Hamilton, and would therefore try to make a dash for the next pirate port. Which one was not quite clear; Cuba, Venezuela and Nicaragua all had some unconquered harbours, hidden bays that the Unicate was still trying to bring to light. It was, after all, the major trade route to the Pacific, the great domain of the Rebellion. And then there was Barbados. Though unconfirmed, Anya Miller was personally convinced that Barbados still had a pirate port somewhere. If it were true, she’d bet he’d head for Barbados!

  She knew the old pirate! He’d try for the one that was slightly out of the way rather than carry on straight, to throw pursuers off track. But Radomir Lascek was never completely predictable; it was this element that made him so dangerous. So she had taken the precaution of stationing ships all around the island while placing herself squarely between him and Barbados. Her calculation had been on the money.

  She had known that he was off the satellite. How the old crook managed that, the devil alone knew; nobody circumvented the satellite ID! But his ship being radar-cloaked had come as a surprise. This explained the lethargy of the Stabs. Anya Miller’s sharp wit alone had resulted in her seeing him at all: The Solar Wind had practically tripped over the Hun on her way down to Barbados. She had been spotted visually.

 

  “Got to go deeper,” muttered Radomir Lascek. “She’s still on our tail. Risky.” He punched another sequence into the console, and the Zephyr descended further. He activated the intercom to the machine room.

  “Dr Jake, we need the fuel cells. Solar drives not fast enough.”

  “Yes, Captain!”

  The fuel cells blasted into action. The Solar Wind surged forward. Quite a few new crewmembers sat down suddenly.

  Shawn had followed the Captain to the bridge. This was another playground full of technological wonders. Shawn couldn’t get enough of all the beautiful electronics! The ship console and all the controls took up the width, more or less, of a piano. The “mixing desk”, as Shawn thought of the panels of
buttons and indicators, was flat to allow the Captain or the helmsman a clear view to the outside, from the bridge over the main deck, to the prow, and to the ocean beyond. If all electronics failed, Shawn realized that one could run the Solar Wind manually, by visuals and wind. Basic; effective. He was impressed.

  The Captain was monitoring the helm that was on autopilot with his left hand while his right moved over the keyboard of the console. Readings showed on the various screens.

  “Who is this ship?” asked Shawn, pointing to the blipping dot that showed on the electromagnetic grid. The reading was somewhat clearer from down here. The Unicate ship had a huge electromagnetic presence; it had to carry all sorts of charge.

  “The Hun. Ship of Anya Miller.” Lascek grinned, a cold light in his eyes as the console reflected in them. “Old enemy of mine. Very ambitious woman, Unicate navy officer. She tends to bend the rules. I caused her a ruffle from her superiors once. Been following me around ever since. Let Old Sherman tell you that story some time.”

 

  Dr Judith was walking amongst the crew in the boardroom with oxygen masks for those who needed it. “Don’t panic, this is normal,” she told the newcomers. “We’re just evading some troubles on the surface. Would you like some oxygen? Oh my, Ailyss has passed out. Ronan Donegal, won’t you please revive her?” She handed him another oxygen mask to hold over Ailyss’ face.

 

  The Captain kept his eyes fixed on the dot on the screen.

  “Blast! We’re not losing them! Going under is usually enough for most other ships.”

  “Do they ever try to follow us below, Captain?” asked Shawn.

  Radomir Lascek studied the witty Donegal Trouble for a second. Shawn gnawed his lip, hoping Captain’s sense of humour was active tonight.

  “That Anya is a tough customer!” The Captain peered at the screens and muttered a Hungarian expression. At least, Shawn hoped it was Hungarian. “We should mask. Be ready, Donegal. Don’t get scared now.” He punched the intercom to the machine room again. “Dr Jake, we’re masking. Be ready. Shawn, sit down!”

  “Yes, Captain.” Shawn obeyed, wondering what that ‘masking’ entailed.

  Lascek waited until the Hun was nearly upon them. Shawn held his breath. Nerve-racking stuff! Was the enemy ship going to send a torpedo? The Captain hit a sequence of buttons. Everything went completely dark. The Solar Wind blended into her surrounds. Her radar-diffusing coating, paired with the absence of any electricity or light made her invisible on the enemy ship’s varied detection systems.

 

  “Worried, Doc?”

  “Very! Captain hasn’t disengaged the electrics underwater in a long time!”

  Paean’s ears peaked at the whispered conversation between Doc Judith and Sherman Dougherty.

  “Enemy must be right overhead,” said the old storyteller.

  Paean felt someone take hold of her sleeve in the dark and nearly lost her balance with fright. A firm hand closed its long wiry fingers around her wrist and guided her own hand to the back of a chair. The Solar Wind was still listing and rolling a bit.

  “Sit down,” ordered the gypsy’s voice by her ear, almost inaudibly. “Could hurt yourself!”

  She found the seat by touch and complied, a bit put out. She had been doing fine before he pulled her off-balance!

  “Why are the lights off?”

  “Don’t worry, sunshine,” whispered Federi. “ ‘s a standard procedure. But we all have to be dead quiet!”

  He ponged of pub! Smoke and alcohol! Not ale though, that smelt subtly different. Something stronger, sweeter. Rum perhaps?

  “Federi, you’re drunk!” she hissed, annoyed. Sheesh!

  “Am not! You’ll also smell like this after a seedy gig!”

  “What was the mission – fratting with the enemy?”

  What a little spitfire! Federi’s falcon eyebrows lifted as he tried to work out how he had deserved that attack.

  “Why is it so important?” he asked.

  Paean laughed softly. “It’s not! Go stink to yourself in the dark, why don’t you, Mr Thieves’ Honour!”

  “Ah!” So that was it. A broken promise! Federi grinned to himself. “Think you’d want to give me back my microphone?”

  “Nope,” said Paean. “ ‘s a handy little item.”

  “Can’t do anything without its other half,” Federi pointed out.

  “Neither can you.”

  “I can hear everything you say.”

  “Can’t, either!”

  “You were singing some opera music this afternoon,” said Federi.

  “ ‘s your imagination,” said Paean. “Ro has disabled it! With a hammer.”

  Federi paused. She could tell that he was – well, a bit doused. Like a drenched poodle. She grinned with glee.

  “Well…” the gypsy said tentatively, “will it help if I say I’m sorry?”

  “I’m not upset,” smiled Paean. “Anyway you’re fickle. I’ll accept your apology, knowing that you’ll do it again soon. There’s no curing you.”

  “Will you two be quiet back there,” hissed a voice. “We’re masking!”

  “Sorry, Jon,” the gypsy hissed back. His sinewy hand briefly closed over Paean’s wrist once more. “Kathal, Twinkletoes!” Then he was gone. Gone off to stink in the darkness. Paean shook her head, puzzled. Twinkletoes -?

  They waited. Ronan had managed to revive Ailyss with the oxygen mask, for which he had received a venomous look just before the lights went out. Now he stood in the dark feeling slighted.

  Rhine Gold was counting down time in his head. One a potato, two a potato, three a potato… how long was this still going to go on? He wondered if any of the female crew were in any way approachable for a little tête-à-tête in the dark. Let’s see. There was Ailyss – no, she was certainly not approachable. Rushka plain smacked of danger! Who else was female? Doc Judith was surely a bit old. Sixtyish, he’d guess. He was wary of her too. The last time he had encountered her by accident in a dark, lonely passageway, he had been overpowered with a Vitamin B injection! He always looked both ways now before venturing to and from his cabin on the lower deck.

  Sheesh, not much of a choice on this boat! All the females were dangerous!

  And then he remembered there was also little Paean. Young, childish, and a tomboy too, but if one thought about it, actually really the only one who was in any way a possibility. Perhaps if one chiselled at her she might get more ladylike. He’d have to work on it quite a bit though; this ship with all its hard work turned every sailor into a man, even the girls. See Rushka. So he’d have to get at it while Paean wasn’t yet a proper sailor. Then again, Rhine Gold liked such mathematical challenges. He began to work on a plan. It never occurred to him that perhaps she was more dangerous than all the others put together.

  Wolf and Dr Jake were down in the machine room by the smallest ray of a micro-torch. They had to see what they were doing; they were getting the other drives ready for when Captain needed them.

  Sherman Dougherty cooked up a brand new story in his head. And then he designed the holes into it, especially for Ronan Donegal. He was rather disappointed that the young man hadn’t picked his last one apart. And he had built in such beautiful inconsistencies! He’d have to tell Federi not to punish a questioning young mind for being a critical thinker.

 

  Shawn was on the bridge with Captain Lascek, learning the ropes of a pirate escaping the law.

  “Quiet, Shawn,” whispered Captain Lascek. “They have sound detection on. But they won’t pick up a whisper, not over the noise of their own ship. We’re drifting away from them now. Anya must have forgotten that there are counter currents down here, flowing opposite to the surface current. Or perhaps the Unicate Marines don’t have that information.”

  “Pardon, Captain?”

  “We’re in an undert
ow,” explained Lascek. “That’s why we had to go deeper: To get ourselves positioned in it. I suspect it’s in fact part of the oceanic conveyor belt. That flows south, right here, and it comes surprisingly near the surface. Would be interesting to find out why. Could be a thermal current too though. The Solar Wind picked up the turbulences. Anya’s on the surface, where the Gulf Stream is moving her north. The currents are moving our ships apart without me doing a single thing.”

  “But won’t they just follow?” worried Shawn.

  Lascek laughed silently. “They’ve passed us, and they were going at an ape velocity when they did, and it took them a good few seconds to stop their own movement, and now they’re not sure where to look for us. Even if they cease their engines to listen for us, we’ll simply drift away from them.”

  “What are they listening for?” breathed Shawn.

  “Well, any sound at all; any light; any slightest signal. The electric disturbance outside is working against them. Fudging their signal a bit. Dr Jake and Wolf are working on an electronic shield for the Solar Wind, but it’s not yet ready for use. Son, you’ll love this ship once you know everything about her. You won’t want to leave.”

  “I already don’t want to leave,” whispered Shawn. “I’m crazy about this boat and everyone on her. Well, everyone except – that is –“

  Captain Lascek chuckled soundlessly. “Out with it, boy! You dislike Verushka Lascek?”

  Shawn paused. “Verushka – Lascek? Is that Rushka?”

  “She’s my daughter,” said the Captain, and Shawn clearly heard the pride in his voice. Lucky Rushka, thought Shawn. She has a dad and he’s proud of her!

  “No, Rushka’s cool,” he said. “Really cool! But Ailyss. I don’t think I like her very much. She’s strange.”

  “Good instincts, Donegal. I wonder about the older Donegal, though.”

  “Ronan? He warned me of her. But he didn’t have to, I’ve got my own sense of danger. Captain, if we’re pirates, what are girls doing aboard?”

  Radomir Lascek laughed softly.

  “Aren’t you glad that they are? Or your own sister would have had to stay behind!”

  “Och, but – she’s not a girl,” said Shawn. “That’s different!”

  “She’s not a girl?” The Captain was amused. “What is she then?”

  “Och, just – one of the guys,” said Shawn.

  Lascek smiled. “So, Shawn, what’s your sense of danger telling you right now?”

  Shawn listened for a moment. The Solar Wind rolled a bit, shifted a bit, listed a bit on the undersea current. She was also very slowly turning, he thought. Drifting without drives. He reached out with his “sense of danger” to detect the foreign vessel. It was far away, out there somewhere behind them, circling and steadily moving away in the wrong direction.

  “They’ve lost us,” he concluded. “I may be wrong, Captain. It just feels like that.”

  “I second that, Captain,” came Rushka’s quiet comment behind them. Shawn jolted with surprise.

  “Good, both of you! Now let’s test your theory.”

  Lascek sent a single, minute satellite blip in the surmised direction of the Hun. The signal came back, somewhat distorted, but still confirming what both the Captain and Shawn had sensed: They had practically shaken off their pursuers. The Hun was bobbing about in the far distance trawling for submerged objects with loud satellite and radar signals.

  Captain Lascek activated the com. “Dr Jake, come in!”

  “Captain,” came the quiet response from the machine room.

  “Empty the ballasts. Get the nu – the special drives ready but don’t activate until I give the signal. We rise to the surface quietly, no sound, no light, minimal power. They’re searching for a submarine now.”

  “Alright, Captain,” Dr Jake’s hushed voice acknowledged.

  The Captain turned. “Shawn! Go find Mr Marsden and relay these orders: When we surface, still no lights or sound. We’re sailing due east. Will turn later. Don’t trip in the dark!”

  “Okay, Captain!” whispered Shawn. He felt his way to the companionway that led from the bridge directly below deck.

  Slowly the Solar Wind rose to the surface in the pitch dark. If Anya Miller the Hun had known where to look, if she had been close enough, if there had perhaps not been any haze, she would have witnessed a reversal of what she had seen before: The beautiful white ship surfacing, raising its two masts, stretching out its rigging like arms after a good sleep, keeping the sails furled though, and then – there was a flash of light and the Solar Wind shot away across the ocean.

  As it happened, Miller did see the flash of light.

  “What?!” What were they doing that far south?

  “If that was the Solar Wind, we’ll never catch her now,” said her First Mate.

  Captain Miller was furious.

  “Follow!” she snapped. “We’ll catch her! We’re on a Pursuer, for crying out loud!”

  A cheer went up on the Solar Wind when the lights went back on. Shawn went looking for Federi, and found him in the galley, alone, clearing up and making coffee for everyone. He told him about the currents.

  “If Captain Lascek knew about the currents, didn’t that other ship know too? Why didn’t they compensate and calculate it in?”

  “That is the beauty of the Solar Wind,” said Federi with a grin. “You were so lucky to be on the bridge with Captain!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Solar Wind is not your usual ship,” said Federi. “Other ships have functions built into their processors that find the path of least resistance on the ocean, consistently and reliably. The processor plots the smoothest course. Is a case of humans too reliant on their technology for their own good. You’re still going to see how our Captain exploits that! Ditto with our getaway from Hamilton harbour!” He laughed softly. “Fact is that Captain uses this kind of information consciously where others let their ship’s computer do the work. That is what!” He handed a mug of hot coffee to Shawn. “Captain knows most minor currents on Earth’s oceans personally. He actively seeks them out. Part of what makes this ship so fast!”

  “But how does he know about the undersea current? Is it on the map?”

  “Doubt it. Old maps perhaps.” Federi rolled his eyes. “Donegal, if you must know. The Solar Wind is a very special ship. Her outside is – shall we say – like skin. There are sensors everywhere. She knows every current, every change in temperature, every shark that comes nibbling. The ship computer is constantly processing the information from the sensors. We know a lot more about Earth’s oceans than any other ship out there. But you keep that mum!”

  “Captain is a genius,” said Shawn, marvelling.

  “That’s why he’s a pirate. Nobody must tell Captain ‘You can’t have more sensors on your ship, you must have a license’. Nobody must say, ‘You can’t hire Shawn Donegal, he’s too young.’ Captain doesn’t like walls.”

  The Captain appeared in the galley’s doorway.

  “Just so, Federi,” he agreed, accepting the mug of coffee the Romany handed him. “She’ll tail us for days now. She’s a tough one to shake. But she won’t catch up. Not now.”

  “How many days, Captain?” asked Federi apprehensively. They were only stocked for four or five. And when they landed in Plymouth, what was to prevent Miller from bringing down the local forces on them? Sometimes he wished they could just sink the woman. Couple of torpedoes ought to sort it.

  “Not scared, are you, Tzigan?” Radomir Lascek narrowed his eyes at his gypsy, amused.

  “Just worried,” admitted Federi. Shawn watched the Captain and the cook. Two contrasting attitudes to danger!

  “We’ll double up on fishing,” decided Lascek. “Don’t worry.”

 

  When Shawn got out onto the deck the next morning, he noticed the Captain was in a great mood.
<
br />   “That Hun is still following our trail,” Federi explained to Shawn when the boy reported to the galley and asked about it. “We’re leaving a trail for her to follow.”

  “What kind of trail?” asked Shawn, fascinated.

  “Potato peels.”

  Potato peels! “Why?”

  “Because after she follows them, the squid can eat them. Captain doesn’t believe in pollution.”

  “And then we eat the squid,” laughed Rhine Gold, who was peeling potatoes again. Mostly for the peels, Shawn realized.

  “But why is he leaving a trail?” he insisted.

  “Let’s just say, he likes playing games,” grinned Federi as he chopped an onion with a virtuoso staccato movement. Shawn watched, impressed. He had a sinister notion that Federi would have preferred it to be Anya Miller there on the chopping board.

  He seated himself across from Rhine Gold at the huge, heavy Ironwood table. Federi had secured that table for the galley at an auction many years ago. The table dated back to the early pioneers’ days of Ovimba, in Southern Free Country. The Ironwood table had been fastened to the floor with serious bolts, because anybody who got squashed by this solid piece of furniture during a storm or sudden manoeuvre would be gravely injured if not killed.

  “What is the Hun’s problem?” asked Shawn.

  “Well, she’s Unicate,” said Federi. “And of course, injured pride. Captain Radomir and Anya Miller have a feud on as old as the sea. ’s been going so long it’s almost a love affair.”

  “Och no,” commented Shawn, disgusted. “That’s so – urgh!”

  “With you there, Donegal,” said the gypsy, frowning. “Federi thinks it’s a huge risk. She wants us dead. She’s a bounty hunter, thinks that’s how she’s going to make her fortune. ’s a lot of cash. Probably wants it to retire from the military. Course by now it’s personal.” He glanced up from the onions. “Shawn, we know how to deal with bounty hunters. The problem is that she’s a bounty hunter with the whole Unicate military at her fingertips.”

  Shawn said nothing for a few moments. Then he looked up.

  “So the Captain of the Hun wants to have Captain Lascek put to death for money, and because he hurt her pride? And Captain doesn’t want us to defend ourselves because he’s in –“

  “Quiet!” Federi held up his hand. “Haven’t you been listening to Sherman, boy?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The Captain peered into the galley.

  “Coffee, Captain?” asked Federi, getting up.

  “No, that’s fine, Federi,” replied Lascek with a grin. “Just checking…” He went off, whistling. Shawn stared after him, rattled. “Sheesh! Who’s the pirate in this equation?”

  “Us, always us,” said Federi lightly. “Never get that mixed up. Aargh! I detest onions, yodiho!” He wiped at his burning eyes with his colourful flared sleeve.

  Shawn reached out and took over dicing the onion, starting to cry right away.

  “There aren’t that many potatoes left,” said Federi. “Got to get to Plymouth soon!”

  “And if she follows us all the way to Plymouth?”

  “I think the potatoes will run out before that,” said Federi. He glanced up at Shawn’s confused face and laughed. “Don’t worry! Captain would never let her sink the Solar Wind!”

  Don’t worry? Shawn iced. Suddenly it felt to him as though it weren’t a joke at all.

  Federi watched him. The chill had reached him too. He feared that Captain was underestimating the Unicate viper. There was something terrible aboard her ship. He had sensed it last night.

  “But why should it be personal?” asked Shawn, dumping the chopped onion in the electric wok.

  “Complex question. She was demoted because of him,” said Federi. “She bends the rules, abuses Unicate resources. Deserted her post, I suspect. What do you suppose that bunch of Stabs at Hamilton was about?”

  “Not about us, surely?” asked Shawn.

  “Can’t be ruled out, can it? But I fear they are in fact taking over Hamilton Port. Manila went that way, last time we passed there. Worrying that, in the Pacific. That’s not even Unicate territory! Wonder if the Rebellion has conquered that place back yet.”

  “But why is the Unicate doing that?”

  “Clamping down on deviants,” said Federi. “They’re just following their program. World domination.”

  The Crow’s Nest beeped on Shawn’s wrist.

  “Sorry, Federi, can’t do the onions,” he exclaimed, dropping his knife and running down the passage towards the companionway to the hatch.

  Federi stared after him, wondering. Those three Donegals! He couldn’t piece it together. The oldest, Ronan, was reserved and very responsible, if completely unforthcoming about his past. Shawn was downright chatty and light-hearted, although there were topics he shied away from like a cat from something rotten. And the girl – whatever haunted her was eating her alive. Every time he spotted her she looked a bit more harassed and less sane. And – she wasn’t allowing him to help. Skittish. No trust.

  Whatever she had done, he knew Captain would get to the bottom of it. He heaved a sigh. Then what in hell had been the point in rescuing the three of them from Dublin?

  It would probably not matter, in the big scheme of things. Captain was playing a far too dangerous game with that Mad Miller woman. Federi knew he had to get behind the truth of what was hiding on her ship, before it killed them all.

  Even as Shawn scaled the ropes, he spotted the small dot in the distance. He activated his wrist-com.

  “Captain, ship approaching fifteen degrees port.”

  Captain Lascek was already on the bridge next to his daughter Rushka, having received the Crow’s Nest signal too. He keyed a few variables into the ship computer.

  “Well done, Donegal,” came his answer on Shawn’s com. “Friends on their way. The vessel is the Sea Eagle. Ali Hlabane’s boat.”

  “It was the Solar Wind who spotted her, sir, not me,” said Shawn.

  Captain Lascek punched in a few more figures. A blip from the satellite answered his question. The Hun was far behind, but still tailing them. She’d catch up with them in two hours if they stopped.

  “Blast that woman!” he muttered. “This is going to be tricky! No time for visiting.” Anya Miller would not be following the Solar Wind if she didn’t have the facilities to disable the ship.

  “She didn’t shoot last night,” Jon Marsden pointed out. “She didn’t use shock either although she was practically on top of us! She could have, even without knowing where we were. It would have fried our processor. That would have killed us, because we would have had no way of surfacing. We have to look into that, Captain. We must find a way of emptying the ballasts manually. It’s a weak point of the Solar Wind.”

  “Clearly,” said Lascek, “she didn’t want that to happen. I wonder why not!”

  “Didn’t want to lose the prize money,” said Marsden. “She needs to bring us in, dead or alive, as proof that she captured us. She’d never have found us if she had sent shock. We’re radar cloaked.”

  Radomir Lascek nodded gravely.

  “That’s not the same as not wanting us dead,” Marsden pointed out.

  “Dead or alive, Jon?”

  “That’s the contract, Captain. You know it.”

  “Right! Of course, if we’re already badly damaged and immobilized, and all she has to do is walk aboard and collect us…”

  “Piratical,” grinned Jonathan Marsden.

  “Ancient trick,” replied Radomir Lascek.

 

 

  5 - Abandoned

 

 

  Federi listened up. There were voices, singing! A powerful chorus of voices he knew could only be from one place…

  He dropped the knife and the onions and headed for the deck at a fast stroll. Hell, they had started wit
hout him! The crew was already throwing mooring lines across to the beautiful blue hundred-foot Penbrook yacht with its triangular aero-solar sails that had drawn up alongside the Solar Wind. Its automatic gangway extended across the gap. Wolf was on the deck along with the other sailors, waving madly and singing loudly with Captain Ali’s crew – the anthem of Southern Free. Ronan was listening intently, and Shawn was picking up on the harmonies.

  Federi glanced up into the rigging. The Crow’s Nest was empty. Usually it was him, up there, shouting those first words of the anthem. And them answering! Arw hell, and he had missed it!

  Captain Ali Hlabane, a short, powerful African man in a white playboy suit with keen, highly amused eyes, walked across the gangway first, leading the way for his crew. The five Africans streamed onto the Solar Wind, laughing, shaking hands, clapping arms, collecting hi-fives from the Solar Wind’s crew while the new sailors looked on with wide eyes.

  “Federi,” asked Shawn by his side, “what’s so special about these people?”

  The gypsy glanced at him with a five-mile grin. “What’s so special? Shawn, just look at these guys! They’ve got Freedom all over their personalities and they bring it wherever they go! Besides they’re great friends of the Solar Wind. Hey there, Vusi!” He moved into the melee, joining in the greetings.

 

  Shawn watched. Captain Ali was very well dressed; his yacht also smacked of luxury. On his hands he wore several heavy gold rings. His left wrist sported not a wrist-com but a classic Swiss luxury watch. And his face, a grin second to none.

  Captain Lascek clapped a hand on Hlabane’s shoulder.

  “How are you, old pirate?”

  “Glad to see you too, Radomir, old sea-devil,” replied Ali. “What are you up to?”

  “I’ve got the Hun on my tail,” said Lascek with a grin.

  “Bummer,” Ali grinned back.

  “She’ll be here in another two hours. You in the mood for some sports?”

  The visiting Captain nodded enthusiastically.

  “Let’s get the supplies out of the way first, my friend,” said Ali. “You’re short, you say. I can help you out.”

  At the orders of Captain Ali, the crews of both ships began to carry crates aboard the Solar Wind and stow them in the storage deck.

  “Got my goodies?” Ali asked as he and Lascek watched from the Solar Wind’s bridge. Lascek opened a cabinet.

  “As promised. Now what can I offer you, Ali?”

  “Nothing alcoholic, Radomir,” said Ali. “Give me a Coke. Got to keep my wits sharp too if the Hun decides to question me.”

  Coca-cola, the favourite drink of the 20th and 21st centuries, had made it into the 22nd. Despite nuclear wars and the Unicate. A resilient beverage. Lascek poured a glass and handed it to Ali. He paged Doc Judith to the bridge.

  “Hamilton Port, taken by the Unicate,” said Hlabane, turning serious. “They’re forcing us back into the Pacific!” He mulled. “That complicates things. I can’t restock there any more than you can. We must make another plan for more provisions. But at least, if we both keep on fishing, you should make it through to Panama and I should manage until Rabat.”

  “Ali,” said Lascek seriously, “not trading girls, are you?”

  Captain Hlabane grinned. “Are you making an offer?”

  “I seriously hope that’s a joke!”

  “Radomir,” laughed Ali, “the only girl I’ve got aboard is my own personal property! I’m not trading her! Not even for Rushka!”

  “You’ve laid off the slaving?”

  “You injure me, Radomir,” said Ali. “I’ve never been a slaver! You took all those jokes seriously?”

  “You never know,” growled the Captain sheepishly. He had believed Hlabane about the slave trade. Even now he wasn’t entirely sure if he ought to believe the denial.

  “I only trade guns,” replied Ali. “Just breaking into a brand new market. Highly specific electronic weapons. Potent enough to sink a city. Just learning the ropes. Got a marvellous mentor.”

  “Should introduce me,” said Lascek.

  “I will, one day! She’s sure pretty enough for you!” The Southern Free man grinned. “Still trading ships, Radomir?”

  “Of course!”

  “That was no joke?”

  “No.”

  “And they still haven’t caught you?”

  “Not that they didn’t try!”

  “You’re not the Unicate’s favourite civilian then, are you!”

  “You’d be surprised,” smiled Lascek. “They keep throwing money in my direction! What concerns supplies? I think I have an idea! Ah, here’s Dr Judith.”

  The doctor handed a small metal case to Captain Ali. He disengaged the safety lock and peered inside. Two neat rows of little vials sat embedded in a wooden frame. He whistled softly through his teeth.

  “Nice! This stuff works?”

  “All of us have already had ours,” said Dr Judith. “This stuff is gold. Don’t lose it.”

  Ali nodded. “Thank you, doctor,” he said, extending a hand which she gave a brief shake.

  “Welcome, Captain Hlabane.” She left the bridge to return to her work.

  “Now,” said Ali. “As for your plan?”

  “Have a seat!”

 

  Shawn watched all the highly excited activity on the deck and between the ships from the hatch. It seemed as though things were being printed and pasted and painted and programmed. Data cubes wandered back and forth. The gypsy cook was suddenly next to him.

  “Supervising them, Shawn?”

  “What are we doing now?” Shawn asked back.

  “What pirates do best,” grinned Federi. “Watch and learn!”

 

  Aboard the Hun, the officers watched a worrying scenario on the electronic screen.

  “Looks as though another ship has spotted Lascek and has opened fire,” commented young Johnny Anyhow, the First Mate, locking onto the second ship’s electronic identity. “Aha. Satellite identifies her as the Santa Anna. She’s famous,” he added. “Name rings a loud bell. Captain is – it’s on the tip of my tongue –“

  “Phineas Skebengo,” read Captain Miller, annoyed. Was someone else going to palm in her reward? “Depraved bounty hunters!”

  “Ah yes, Skebengo.” Johnny Anyhow nodded sagely. “Heard a lot about him.”

  “Such as what?” snapped Anya Miller, paging impatiently through the spotless history of the Santa Anna’s captain.

  “Good guy. Has stopped a drug-syndicate in Oceania. Or was that Captain Hawkins from the Espagnola?”

  “Stop gabbling, Anyhow!” Miller glared at him. “How did you come by such a name, anyhow? One can’t really use it!”

  The First Mate shut his mouth, rattled. Head Office had assigned him to her, not by her own choice. First Mate at age nineteen! But she had accepted it without a complaint, even welcomed it. He suspected that Miller was so ambitious she didn’t want anyone with too much experience as a second-in-command. It wasn’t a comforting position either – her prior First Mate had disappeared mysteriously.

  Captain Anya Miller watched the battle of the two ships ahead of them with a sinking heart. Skebengo was a damned civilian! How had he got his filthy hands on such sophisticated firepower -? Enormous electric discharges were flying to and fro, invisible to the eye but recorded by her systems. She wasn’t going to ask where Lascek had got hold of his stun charges! Her console showed that even under water, torpedoes with electric hypercharge were hitting the Solar Wind. Clearly Skebengo was after the bounty money: He didn’t want to damage the hull of the ship, just disable the processor and stun the crew. She laughed cynically. Without his precious processor, Lascek had only one way of submerging the Solar Wind – permanently.

  Then a distress signal came from the Solar Wind, probably sent automatically by the ship’s system itself as th
e processor failed.

  “Ha! The old crook! He’s met his nemesis!” growled Captain Miller. “His ship’s in trouble. He can’t move!” She got angry. “Nobody else must get to him first! I’m the one who must turn him in! I’ve worked years for this moment!”

  Her ship com activated. She listened with amazement to the patchy signal from the Solar Wind’s dying com system.

  “Anya,” came Radomir Lascek’s voice, deep and resonant, but sounding somehow broken. The signal certainly was. “Help! I know you’re there! Save us!”

  What! He was begging her for help? The old pirate thought she would actually step in on his behalf?

  “My crew is out cold,” pleaded Lascek. “These guys are taking us apart! If they board we are finished! You’re our last hope, Anya! You’re Unicate! Have a heart! In the name of fair play!”

  He was delivering himself into her hands? Captain Anya Miller smiled as she hit the button.

  “I don’t believe it! Are you surrendering? I’ll take you to Headquarters, you know it!”

  “Anything! Anything you say! It must be better than watching my crew be slaughtered by these bounty hunters! They’re a good crew, Anya. They don’t deserve to die!” Another shockwave travelled between the two ships. “Aargh,” said Radomir Lascek.

  “Hang in there, Radomir,” called Anya Miller. She switched the direction of her intercom, pushed a sequence, and the Hun charged forward.

  “Attention, Santa Anna,” Miller sent to the other ship’s intercom. “Thank you for intercepting the Solar Wind. We’ll take it from here.”

  “Acknowledged,” called Captain Skebengo with a strong African accent. “Captain Miller, this is Captain Phineas Skebengo of the SFS Santa Anna speaking. We have apprehended the pirate Radomir Lascek of the Solar Wind. You will ensure that we get our remuneration?”

  “It’s already on record. I’ll see to it personally,” lied Miller. There was no way she was going to share her prize money! She’d deal with Skebengo when she’d finished with Lascek. Easy enough to concoct a story of Skebengo being another lawbreaker, which he probably was, in fact, who wasn’t? Her crew were behind her, they’d back her story, especially if it could be fortified with some grains of truth. It didn’t take Miller a second to plot this manoeuvre.

  The Hun circled the Solar Wind, wedging the pirate between her and the Santa Anna. Ropes shot across, hooking onto the Solar Wind’s rail and pulling the Pursuer up alongside, closing the gap. Captain Miller and her officers boarded the Solar Wind, leaving only the technician aboard the Hun, holding the bridge.

  There was no one on the Solar Wind’s deck. Nobody on the bridge either; the console was dark. This was most disappointing!

  “Lascek, come out! You’re surrounded! Give it up, old villain!” Anya Miller got no response. Absolutely nothing stirred aboard the Solar Wind.

  “You’re finished, Radomir,” said Anya, more to herself. “Time to negotiate for the lives of your crew, I think.”

  It had occurred to her a moment back that she could win both ways in this one. Radomir Lascek himself was rumoured to have considerable financial resources. She wondered how much he would pay over to her for the freedom of each of his crewmembers. She could arrange that freedom easily, just place them all on his motorized lifeboat and send them off; the Unicate only had a reward on his head and the actual bringing in of the ship, not on the rest of the crew. But she might as well force the money out of him and then have them all executed for the criminals they were, anyway; bribery or its attempt was illegal in itself.

  Radomir Lascek had to care about his crew a lot if he were prepared to deliver himself into the hands of the Unicate in a futile effort to spare their lives. This worried her. It was, in fact, an illogical move she couldn’t quite understand. She understood her own response to it even less. She didn’t want to dwell on the idea that perhaps he had some gentleness in his character, or perhaps she ought to admire his courage. It complicated things, and interfered with her plans.

  “Radomir, come out! Don’t you want to negotiate? Aargh, the old coward!”

  It was disappointing. She had expected at least a heroic show of resistance from her old enemy – or perhaps she would have enjoyed seeing the look on his face when he admitted that she had won. This – all of them cowering below deck in fear – this was almost demeaning. It certainly took the sparkle out of the capture! Anya Miller entered the hatch and descended the companionway into the upper deck, aware of her crew following right behind her.

  It was dark down there. Doors were closed; blinds covered any open portholes. She had left the hatch open; light filtered into the passage from above. The Santa Anna had indeed scrambled the entire electrics of the ship with her shockwaves.

  Right by the companionway a young girl lay groaning. Her eyes were shut. Miller kneeled down, looking closer. The shockwaves had not only damaged the ship. Could this be the explanation for Lascek not responding to her summons – that he was stunned too, senseless? Or even dead? Unfamiliar panic crept over Miller.

  “What’s your name, girl?” she asked.

  The little redhead moaned. “Watch,” she mumbled vaguely. “Watch out…”

  “What do you mean, girl?” Anya Miller leaned over her to hear her better.

  “Pirates!” said the girl, sitting up suddenly and banging her head against that of Captain Miller. “Ooh! Ouch! Rats!”

  The pirates descended on the officers of the Hun from all sides. Anya Miller felt strong hands restraining her. Not that she could have moved, currently; she was seeing stars from the collision. The girl’s head had caught her right across the eyes.

  “You can’t do this, Lascek!” she protested. “You’re surrounded and you’re outnumbered.”

  “I can do,” came his voice right by her ear, “whatever I like, Anya. Don’t forget, I’m a pirate.”

  The pirate Captain grinned at her out of the darkness. “Now, allow me.” She found her wrists tied behind her back and her feet tied together. Captain Lascek picked her up and put her down in the big comfortable swivel chair in the ship meeting room. He tied a few more ropes around her.

  He had said it himself! She mustn’t forget that he was a criminal! She wouldn’t forget it ever again, this she promised herself.

  “I shan’t speak for you in the Unicate court,” she said acidly.

  “Comfortable, my dear?”

  “You’ll regret this,” hissed Miller. “Captain Skebengo is right behind me.”

  “My friend Phineas Skebengo?” asked Radomir Lascek. He flicked a switch and the lights came on. All five Miller’s marines were tied to chairs around her.

  “Anya,” said Radomir Lascek, “thank you for heeding my call for help. It tells me that there’s a soft spot somewhere in your embittered little heart. You said something about negotiating earlier?”

  “For the lives of your crew,” Anya ground out through clenched teeth. “It occurred to me that you called for my help so that your crew can survive. You know that you’re a dead man walking, don’t you. But there’s no particular reward on their heads, so I thought you might want to buy their lives!”

  “Anya!” Lascek smiled. “How thoughtful of you! They’re good pirates, you know. Loyal to the last soul! Even our little spy. I’d never hand them over to the Unicate, never. But I’m willing to make a trade anyway, for your sake. My crew goes free, and in exchange we help ourselves to your food supplies. It seems as though we can’t restock at Hamilton anymore.”

  “You wouldn’t dare -!”

  “Thanks, Anya! Kind of you,” smiled Lascek.

  Ronan held a cold pack against his sister’s head.

  “You’re a hero, Pae. Well knocked!”

  She laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such pleasure hurting myself! Thanks, Ro, that’s better!” She picked herself up from the deck. She did indeed feel fantas
tic. It was hugely empowering to knock out the enemy.

  “Hey,” said Ronan, pointing down the passage. “What’s with him?”

  Paean followed her brother. Wolf Svendsson was sitting on the floor, holding his head in both hands. Paean crouched down, a hand on the scruffy young engineer’s shoulder.

  “Are you okay, Wolf?”

  “Will be in a second,” muttered Wolf, keeping his eyes closed. “Blasted Unicate and their blasted stun guns!”

  “Someone stunned you?”

  “Hells, yes. Feels like my brain’s been rewired!”

  “Come, Wolf,” said Ronan, helping the muscular young sailor up. He and Paean supported Wolf down to the small yellow infirmary, and onto one of the bunks.

  “Sorry, guys,” said Wolf with a grin. He shut his eyes again.

  “Nothing!” retorted Paean. “You couldn’t help that! They shot at you! Is there something I can get you? Glass of water? Painkiller?”

  “Nah,” replied Wolf. “Thanks.”

  “Want me to stay here a bit?”

  “Nah, don’t worry,” said Wolf. “I’ll get over this in a second.”

  The two Donegals left him and made their way back up the dark passageway. Paean thought that she’d have to come back in a while and open all the blinds and curtains. She hoped Wolf would be all right.

 

  Shawn stood in the Crow’s Nest, watching the goings-on between the three ships with delighted fascination. The Sea Eagle had circled to the other side of the Hun, and both crews had boarded the military ship. The helmsman who had stayed aboard the Hun was tied up. The crews of the Solar Wind and the Sea Eagle looted the food stores of the Hun, which had just been replenished at Hamilton. Anya Miller had known that the Solar Wind was headed for the Pacific, so she had stocked up well. Practically all of the Unicate guns went to Captain Ali, boosting his trade. Then Captain Ali and his men helped Lascek’s crew put Anya and her officers back onto their own ship, on the outer deck.

  Federi was on a mission of his own, trailing through the enemy ship. She was a beautiful vessel; speed and economy of design was written all over her. The crew cabins were larger than the cubicles of the Solar Wind; the Captain’s Quarters downright spacious. But there were only eight crew cabins. Each could house four crew, with two sets of pull-down stack bunks on opposing walls, like those of the Solar Wind. A force of thirty-two? They could accomplish things, actually! But Miller only had five. Clearly this bounty hunt wasn’t too well supported by the military headquarters.

  Five? And she set after the Solar Wind? It told him more than that. Firstly, she must know how under-crewed the Solar Wind was. Not counting the Donegals, there were ten – and she couldn’t know about the Donegals, as Captain had kept them hidden in both Dublin and near Hamilton. Though Federi had no doubt she knew about Rhine Gold, and seeing that she was a Unicate insider, probably about Ailyss too. If Ailyss was indeed a Unicate spy, as Captain suspected.

  But more, it told him of her intended strategy. With only five marines, you didn’t plan to board a pirate. No. Miller’s main aim had been to disable the ship from a distance. And then? Call in reinforcements, no doubt.

  The Unicate’s favourite colour was unfortunately grey; the compounding that lined the decks and the colour of the hull and walls was grey. It saved the compounding the effort of fading to grey over time.

  The bridge was slightly more spacious than that of the Solar Wind. Federi cracked the code on the safe following a hunch. As it opened, he grinned smugly. Anya Miller was so egocentric that the password she had used was an anagram of her own name! He rummaged a bit; inside the safe there were various interesting-looking items, data chips, cubes, quite a bit of money, some rings and a sealed capsule that radiated evil. He slipped everything into his pocket.

 

  On the deck, Anya Miller fumed while the pirates had amiable conversations with her marines.

  “Tell me one thing,” said Johnny Anyhow good-naturedly. “How on Earth did you guys survive such blasts?”

  “It’s an illusion,” replied Jon Marsden with a smile. “We’ve cooked your detectors with long-distance program overrides. Want to join us? I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  Johnny Anyhow shook his head, shocked. He had just been invited to become a pirate! If these pirates only knew how numbered their days were, with or without today’s fancy manoeuvre…

  In their position today, he would have killed Anya Miller and her crew to the last man. Plain survival. Why were they taking such care not to harm anyone?

  Captain Ali’s ship departed first, with the two ships’ crews waving madly at each other and wishing each other fair winds and happy trading. The Sea Eagle would sail off in another direction, then change course as she changed her identity back to the original. Ali Hlabane was especially gleeful about the false name he had picked. It wasn’t really an African name. But Anya Miller wouldn’t know; she had never been to Southern Free. Skebengo meant vagabond. But the digital history of the fictitious Phineas Skebengo was that of an angel.

 

  Radomir Lascek was keeping Anya Miller company on the Hun. He had sent his sailors back to the Solar Wind; once everything was organized and Captain Ali had a decent head start, he was going to release Anya Miller and return to his own ship himself, and set sail. He waited for the signal from his First Mate. Finally he got impatient. He punched a button on his wrist-com.

  “Jon, what is the situation? Can we sail?”

  “Still waiting for Federi, Captain. He’s still aboard the Hun.”

  “Aargh! What’s he doing so long?”

  “Probably picking all the cabins clean,” commented Jon Marsden unkindly.

 

  Federi was by now in the bowels of the enemy ship. In his many years as a fugitive he had learnt one thing more loudly than anything else. You ignored a hunch at your peril.

  The machine room of the Pursuer was like the rest of the ship: Sleek, frugal, minimalist. And grey. Federi’s eyes darted to the water desalination system – smaller than the version they had on the Solar Wind, but newer. The huge hydrogen drives, powered by fuel cells, were mainly situated near the stern, with smaller drives for steering bursts lining the sides of the machine room. A highly manoeuvrable craft! Federi sighed. Almost, a man could dream.

  Between the side drives, torpedo guns were mounted into the hull. That made sense, for a military craft. Federi investigated the nature of the torpedoes. There were conventional ones that merely ripped holes into the enemy vessel by exploding on impact; there were electric discharge torpedoes that could fry a ship’s electrics when fully charged, without destroying the hull. He also found a more sinister type of torpedo, the kind that hooked into the hull of a ship, drilled a hole and released poison gas. All of those missiles were heat-seeking, and capable of homing in on vibrations. He shuddered. She could have killed them any number of ways last night, by disabling their machinery or poisoning them while they were under water if Captain hadn’t switched off the power.

  But none of this accounted for the horrible feeling of foreboding, the evil presence he sensed. The hair in the back of his neck stood on end. He had to find that threat, disable it… kill it if he had to. He closed his eyes, listening for his gypsy radar’s message.

  His eyes flew open. The presence was right next to him! Bristling, he turned and stared at it –

  A grey metal box, standing as tall as himself, mounted into the prow of the machine room. And it whined softly. Federi reached out carefully and withdrew his hand before it got too close. That thing was charged with evil! It radiated cold. He moved to its other side and understood. It was the shock gun. He shook his head. This was odd. He never got a whiff of danger that turned out to be nothing! But they were aware that Unicate ships disabled the processors of other ships using electric shock…

  He read the voltage.


  He read it again to make sure. The fear that streaked through him was grey and icy. Disable the computer? This lightning bolt could wipe out the whole crew, fry them all to a cinder with one single directional discharge! No compounding hull could protect them from this! And it was charged up and ready to fire. Only awaiting Anya Miller’s command.

  Potato peels and trails -! Captain had no clue of the magnitude of this woman’s hatred!

  There was only one right thing to do. He had to find out how this thing worked. He investigated the panel of the gun. It wasn’t exactly user-friendly, but Federi had experience with weapons. Even a Unicate stun gun needed to be serviced at times. Even a Unicate technician could get himself fried fussing with something like this. There had to be a safety catch somewhere for the technician. He searched and found it, and released it. The lightning gun wasn’t going to go off unsolicited now. Carefully he opened the panel, unscrewed the plate and laid bare the gun’s innards. And there was the heart of the weapon: The hyperconductive generator coil, hermetically sealed and deeply chilled by liquid nitrogen, shimmering slightly in the half-dark.

  Federi took a small piece of something soft and malleable out of his pocket with fingers twitching in stress, pushed it snugly around the coil’s casing with his pocket knife, inserted a small gadget the size of a thumbtack into it, stood back – and detonated the explosive.

  It was a small, accurate explosion. Liquid nitrogen leaked out of the casing; the hyperconductive super-pure coil was blackened and bent, its hair-thread coils fused together. Excess voltage fizzled along the wires that connected it to the ship console, and into the processor, which responded with a resolute pop. Queasy apprehension streaked through Federi’s gut a second time; what if it had triggered anyway? He should have waited until the Solar Wind was well out of range, and then discharged the shock gun and taken the life boat back to the Mother Ship.

  Anya Miller had that thing charged up all the way, last night. He, Federi, had sensed it. There was no more doubt that she meant to kill them all. She had to be prevented from coming after them again. He disabled all the drives, collecting wires and parts as he went. His bag got heavier by the moment. To fail now was to send the entire Solar Wind down the chute to hell. He’d have to tell Captain.

 

  Jon Marsden’s signal came. Radomir Lascek grinned to himself. He hadn’t seen his Tzigan leave the Hun, even though he was on the outer deck with the hostages! How did that gypsy do it?

  “Right, Anya,” he said. “You are free to sail. I’m untying your hands. Help yourself with your ankles, there’s a big girl. You may do the honours for your crew. Thank you for providing us and our friends with fresh food – and such nice food, too!”

  The moment Anya’s hands were free, her elegant fist connected with his nose. He caught her wrists and laughed.

  “I’ll be going now. It was nice to see you again, Anya.”

  “You’ll burn in hell, Radomir,” snarled Anya Miller.

  Radomir Lascek crossed the gangplank to the Solar Wind and withdrew it. Anya fumbled with the ties on her ankles, and one by one the knots came unstuck. Finally she was free. She charged to the bridge, to lock onto the Solar Wind and pursue – and found the system down. She ran back to the deck to catch a sight of the Solar Wind sailing away. The crew waved to her; amongst them on the deck stood Radomir Lascek, blowing her a kiss. The absolute gall -!

  Anya Miller returned to the bridge and examined the console. It was dead. Someone had disconnected the power supply and stolen the adaptor; beyond which there were traces of soot and the acrid smell of fried circuitry. There was no resurrecting this processor in a hurry.

  Captain Miller took in the situation. A Pursuer had no sails; they would interfere with speed. The fuel cells only responded to the electronic command. The back-up solar panels, for the event of failure of the fuel cell, were implanted in the roof. They too responded to electronics only. Except for the fuel cells and their slow solar backup, there was no other way of propelling the craft forward. In summary, they were stuck, drifting on the currents at random. Too late she realized that no matter how fast the Hun was, its complete reliance on electronics was a weak point. They were marooned on their own ship.

 

  6 - Federi’s Amends

 

  “You WHAT-?!”

  The Captain’s voice thundered across the deck. Jonathan Marsden ducked behind the console. Rushka vanished. Ronan and Rhine Gold looked supremely busy suddenly. Shawn fled into the Crow’s Nest. Paean, emerging from below the deck, got stuck in the hatchway and stayed rooted to the spot, gaping in horror at the confrontation between the Pirate Captain and the gypsy cook.

  Federi glanced down at the bag he held in his hands, and back at the Captain.

  “Captain, I’ve only disabled her ship,” he said. “She won’t be able to follow us. I’ve taken the sting out of her shock generator too. When that ship is running again, she won’t be able to fry us.”

  He failed to add that disarming a time bomb was probably a safer task than what he had achieved there in the Hun’s bilges. And how he had nearly collapsed with relief on returning to the Solar Wind and finding his friends alive and uncooked.

  “You left Anya sitting helpless and immobilized in the middle of nowhere,” raged Lascek, “and you fail to see the problem? Here, what’s this?” He dug in the bag. “By Stravinsky, Federi! What all did you loot? Information! And cash, too! You corrupt Tzigan! Anya will be in such trouble!”

  Anya! Ratted Anya! Fry Anya in hell! Federi frowned and refrained from informing the Captain that the cash in the bag was petty change as compared to what had gone into his pockets without detours. He also omitted to mention the personal effects he had stolen. They weren’t in the bag. One day his larcenous habits might get him into trouble, he thought. Only he hadn’t thought it would be today, after saving the scalps of everyone on the ship! He stood speechless, surprise frozen on his face as his Captain let rip at him.

  Lascek was Hungarian. This accounted for it, thought Federi. Hot temper. Just like his daughter Rushka; except that the poor girl was so regimented by her authoritarian father that her outbursts of temper had turned in on herself. Every now and then, Federi quietly cleared away the shards of a broken mug out of Rushka’s cabin and spoke gently to her until she simmered down. He had experience. And mugs were a regular item on his shopping list.

  He ought to have looted some mugs from the Hun, he thought absently. There had been one with a bunny on it in the machine room, and “Anyhow” scribbled in indelible ink on the bottom. He hadn’t had the heart.

  He caught the terrified blue stare of little Paean, in the hatchway, and pulled himself up straight.

  “Captain, if you don’t mind,” he interrupted the Captain’s loud tirade. “I’ll fix it.”

  Captain Lascek’s mouth got stuck open. His face registered a complete blank. Five seconds passed in silence.

  “How?” asked Lascek, stumped.

  “Simple,” said Federi with an easy smile, “I’ll put the money back!”

  Another three seconds. Then the Captain exploded into laughter. Federi winked at Paean.

  “You useless rogue,” laughed the Captain. “But you’re dead right, Federi. You are going to fix things! She could have a collision, sitting there on a major trade route without lights at night! She could get looted by pirates!”

  Federi bit his tongue. The woman had just been looted by pirates!

  “You know yourself how inefficient the Unicate is,” said the Captain. “They’ll take their sweet time rescuing her! Especially if she can’t call for help! You’ve disabled her radio com too?”

  “Particularly her radio,” said Federi. “Didn’t want her reporting Captain Ali!”

  “Well, we won’t need to go shopping for replacement cables and electronics now,” sighed Lascek. “I don’t want to say w
ell done, Tzigan! I was curious to see how far she’d trail us into the Pacific. Now we have to rescue her!”

  “She’d have cornered us at Panama, Captain,” said Federi rationally. “She’d have alerted the military there. With all those sluice gates we’d have been sitting ducks.”

  “We might still be,” said Radomir Lascek, troubled. “The Unicate taking over Hamilton! Panama is already Unicate territory. I wonder how we’ll slip through this time!”

  “We could round the Cape,” suggested Federi.

  “Get real, Tzigan! We’re on a time schedule!” The Captain smiled grimly. “Here’s what, my good Federi. We attach the Hun to the Solar Wind. We sail into Hamilton Port and drop Anya off, under the guise of a harmless trader who happened across this disabled ship. This way we, the Solar Wind, don’t endanger our reputation, and she doesn’t lose face. And it’s your project.”

  Now it was Federi’s turn at staggered silence. Had he heard right?

  “Tow her into Hamilton, Captain?”

  “Exactly.”

  “With all those Stabs we’ve just escaped?”

  “Precisely!”

  “And Federi co-ordinates this?” asked the Romany disbelievingly.

  This was bad. This was crazy! The other thing that Federi had learnt in all his outlaw years was this: Never underestimate your enemy! A real enemy was never stupid.

  “Afraid, Tzigan?”

  “Petrified,” laughed Federi. Ye Stars, he wanted to run away! He glanced at the little redhead who still stood transfixed in the same spot with her shocked blue eyes. “So what are we waiting for?”

  You don’t think Miller wants you dead, he thought as he took the bridge. You didn’t see that gun! Good and well for Captain to be infatuated with the Solar Wind’s arch-enemy. But Federi thought he detected a deep instability in her. And an uncanny coldness…

  The Solar Wind turned.

  Night fell over the Hun. Captain Miller’s furious command to “fix it” had resulted in several hours of trying to find enough wiring to get the drives reconnected, and trying to hot-wire things between the solar cells and the console. It was hopeless. The ship’s engineer Tony had ended up opening the fridge and using its inside wiring, twisting it into longer leads, only to find that there wasn’t enough. She’d need about ten times as much. And she had no idea what she was supposed to use to replace the subionifyers and the ZITs that had been stolen.

  Next she had tried to resurrect the radio com with the wire ripped from the fridge. This tested her capacities to the extreme; eventually she had something that might have worked – except that a crucial bit of machinery was missing. The encryptor. Tony raked her hands through her short black hair. She dug in her intellectual resources. Could the anchor chain be fashioned into wire? The image of it being fashioned into nooses for all of them intruded on her. Could she use anything – anything aboard to “invent” something that could replace that encryptor… like, for argument’s sake, her belt buckle… She knew now that she was not cut out for the military. She’d get out the moment they got back into port. Anya Miller was in any case a madwoman.

  “Here, Tony!” Johnny Anyhow descended down the steps with a burning piece of plank as torch. “Don’t sit down here in the dark feeling sorry for yourself! All is not lost! Come out on the deck! Tomorrow is another day.”

  Johnny Anyhow, the trusty ex-sea-scout, was prepared! An empty wooden crate had been taken apart and the planks made into flaming torches, fastened to the deck of the Hun to make her more visible to passing ships. He was boiling water for coffee on one of those planks. At least the pirates had left the supplies of coffee, and the mugs. And accurately enough provisions for two days, and the fishing rods. The water desalination with its separate small solar power supply had been left intact too, where everything else had been destroyed. It gave him food for thought. They really didn’t want Captain Miller and crew dead! Why not?

  A tiny light approached in the distance.

  “Ship astern,” called Johnny Anyhow.

  “Which one?” snapped Captain Miller.

  “Lock on and get identification,” said Anyhow innocently.

  “We can’t, you idiot! Just look at her outline. What type of ship is it?”

  “Light patterns look like a Zephyr or a Frigattina,” said Johnny, peering through his electronic binoculars. One of the few items that hadn’t ended in Federi’s bag. “There she comes – come on – move a bit closer…. Got something stuck in the rigging, it seems. Something boxy.”

  Anya Miller took the binoculars off him and peered through herself.

  “It’s the damned Solar Wind,” she exclaimed. “She’s coming back! Oh hell!”

  “Why is she coming back?” asked Johnny, feeling left out of a crucial part of the conversation.

  “To kill us all, of course!” Anya Miller was panicking. “Anyway, you don’t understand!”

  Some of the key data cubes had been stolen. Lascek now knew about a lot of the movements Headquarters were planning. And here they were, unable to flee or defend themselves, unable even to send a warning or call for backup.

  “So far Captain Lascek hasn’t hurt any of us,” said Johnny rationally.

  “Radomir Lascek,” said Captain Miller, “is a first-rate criminal. He is extremely dangerous! If he steps aboard, each one of you personally has my orders to terminate him. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, Captain,” replied a shocked crew.

  Anya Miller glared at them. Had they perhaps not quite understood what they were dealing with? Had they misread her willingness to save Lascek from Skebengo as a concession, rather than a practical measure, keeping the end in mind? Had it led to them underestimating the pirate? Thinking him harmless, perhaps even kind? She recalled the gallantry, the kiss he had blown her, and went cold. Did the crew have the impression that she had some sort of emotional attachment to the murdering villain? In which case, could she still rely on them to comply? Were they still taking their mission and their Captain seriously?

  This could lead to grave complications, she realized. If her crew took a humanitarian stance and began to disobey her concerning Lascek, it might cost them their lives – especially hers, with that data capsule in his hands. She had to recover that! She would have ordered them to start shooting at the pirate vessel the moment it came into range, if all their weapons hadn’t been looted!

 

  A little while later the two ships were in shouting distance.

  “We’re towing you to Hamilton,” Lascek called across. “It seems as though one of my crew has disabled your ship. This is regrettable. It leaves you in my responsibility.”

  The crew listened up. So he didn’t mean to execute them?

  “Careful,” Anya told her crew. “It’s a trap.”

  “Come, Anya,” laughed Radomir Lascek, reading her body posture against the flickering firelight, “don’t be afraid. If I had wanted to kill you I would have done so earlier. We’re towing you back to Hamilton! Can’t just leave you here!”

  “I’m not afraid of you, pirate,” shot Anya Miller, annoyed.

  “Good! Then you’ll catch the lines and fasten them onto your ship.”

  A line came flying towards them, shot out by the Solar Wind’s mooring mechanism.

  “Let it drop,” commanded Captain Miller. “If they get close enough to board, we throw them off the ship with our bare hands if we have to.”

  The crew were military men and women, trained to obey orders instantly. The line was dropped into the sea.

  “You’re being stubborn, Anya,” shouted Captain Lascek. “Now be a good girl and catch those lines! You’re invisible to commercial craft and this is a main shipping route. You might have a collision.”

  Anya Miller dug in her heels. Hamilton? Back to her superiors? She wasn’t ready for that encounter! And with a damaged ship! Besides, there was no way she’d g
ive an inch to the old pirate after believing she was rescuing him this afternoon and walking into his trap. The line came flying again. Once again Captain Miller ordered her people to ignore it. The metal mooring clip caught on the Hun’s rail.

  Tony reluctantly freed it and threw it back into the sea. She scowled. Pirate vessels like Lascek’s, who snared other ships, were equipped with looting chains that had grappling hooks at the end. He hadn’t sent them one of those, only an ordinary mooring line leading a hawser. The whole scenario failed to make sense to her. Lascek didn’t seem aggressive at all; he genuinely appeared to be extending a helping hand. If she had to rely on her judgement of character, she’d say he rather liked Captain Miller.

  “The military will pick us up,” Captain Miller told her marines. “We don’t need to go along with the machinations of this outlaw. Do you believe him? I don’t! Head Office keeps permanent tabs on where every ship is, and they’ll see on the map where we were last. When they don’t reach us by radio or satellite signal, they’ll come looking for us.”

  She knew that what she told them was only partially accurate. Head Office could be very inefficient, especially if their record showed that she had loaded provisions recently and no distress signal had gone out, therefore there was no sense of urgency. The last routine communication had been that morning, but she hadn’t informed anyone that she had located the pirate. She didn’t want to share her reward if she didn’t have to. This failure to be a team player proved to be a mistake. She could lose her career now, or her life. Depending on how they managed to fend off Lascek. She wasn’t overly hasty to confront Headquarters.

  Being positioned on a major trade route could be good or bad. A collision, though highly unlikely, couldn’t be ruled out entirely as they were radar-shielded. More likely they might receive help from a passing trader. Then again they might encounter a Rebellion ship. In their military uniforms, the chances of them being slaughtered were only exceeded by the risk of being taken hostage and traded off, like so much merchandise, back to Head Office. That would certainly spell the end for her. Unicate dealt efficiently with inefficient military leaders.

 

  Lascek turned to Jonathan Marsden.

  “What do we do?”

  “We could harpoon her,” suggested Marsden.

  “Causing further damage to her ship,” Lascek pointed out. “But the principle is sound. Ha! Marsden, Donegal! Come below deck!”

  A short while later, out of sight in the dark of the sea, looting cables and mooring lines were secured to the screw of the Hun. Then Jon Marsden and Ronan Donegal re-emerged on the Solar Wind, dripping wet and with satisfied smirks.

  “Captain, this thing’s going to fly. Haha!” Ronan was enjoying himself immensely.

  “Good work! Set sail for Hamilton!”

  “Set sail for Hamilton,” called Marsden.

  “And hand over to Federi, blast you all!” added the Captain. “It’s his project! Got to organize everything myself for the man! What’s this?”

  Anya Miller watched how the Solar Wind’s huge white sails unfurled in the moonlight. A small burst of power from her solar drives, and she started moving. Away. Anya Miller allowed herself a sigh of relief. They were going to be left in peace. How she had managed to talk the Pirate off her back, she didn’t quite understand. But she and her crew were safe for now, and a bit of time had been bought. She had to find a way to explain the loss of those files to Head Office. And the devastation of her ship. She knew what to expect if the truth came out. Perhaps the military was the wrong place for her to be, now. Perhaps she ought to reconsider the proposal her brother had made, not too long ago.

  The Solar Wind’s sails opened fully, and the night breeze punched into them. The wind was at their back; she plunged ahead, her large mainsail and huge foresail “goose-winged” to each side to catch the most air. The solar drives switched off as wind power took over.

  There was a bump as the lines pulled taut. The Hun was not half the size of the Solar Wind; she turned back-to-front and got dragged along, the wrong way round, in the wake of the pirate ship. Anya Miller turned as white as a sheet.

  “Captain? What’s happening?” asked Johnny Anyhow, just in time to see her collapse on the deck.

 

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