Pirates of the Outrigger Rift

by Gary Jonas

  “The Rift? I used to spend a lot of time there,” Hank said.

  “That’s nice, but the one piece I don’t have is a pilot who knows the actual coordinates. I’m not sure one exists outside the base. Thorne was a thorough bastard.”

  Hank stopped chewing his steak and looked up. “You need a pirate pilot?” he said with his mouth full.

  Chandler nodded. “Yes, have one in your pocket?”

  Hank finished chewing his bite and swallowed, then wiped his lips with his napkin. “No, but I have one frozen in an escape pod on my ship.”

  “How is that possible?” Chandler asked.

  “We got attacked leaving Jonesy, and I took out a Marauder. I picked him up after the fight.”

  Chandler gulped down the rest of his bourbon and jumped up from the table. “Let’s go get him. Now!”

  Hank and Sai wheeled a life pod into the nearly abandoned security office. The guards had been dismissed. Not even Aland was welcome during this procedure. Hank grinned. “I present you with my own frozen pirate pop.”

  Chandler and Randol peered into the pod to see a pirate in cryogenic sleep.

  “Good thing I picked him up, huh?” Hank said with a grin.

  Randol just shook his head and turned to Chandler. “How can you be sure he knows anything about the location of the base?”

  Chandler shrugged. “Well, we won’t know until we ask. A Marauder is only a three-man craft, so all three should be flight certified. Odds are this man had access to nav data and knows where the base is hidden.”

  Hank smiled. “The Outrigger Rift is my old stomping ground. I used to run salvage there. I know every burned-out hulk and barren rock in that sector. If we can get even a hint out of him, I can find it.”

  “All right, let’s get this messy affair over with,” Randol said.

  Hank and Chandler stood by with stun pistols at ready. There was no telling how the man might react when he came out of stasis. Sai stood behind them.

  Randol activated the recovery unit and stood back. The translucent surface of the pod began to glow as the temporal field collapsed around its human contents. The access door hissed open and a chilly fog spilled out into the room. The man’s eyes snapped open and he gasped for air.

  He was dressed in a tattered Confed uniform, likely a deserter turned to piracy, or he had stolen the clothing. A golden earring dangled from his left earlobe. His face was unshaven and his long hair hung in greasy, matted tresses. “Shit fire and save the matches!” the pirate shouted. “If that wasn’t the rush to beat all!”

  Hank approached the pod. “Are you all right?”

  The pirate slowly sat up. He patted himself on the head, face, and chest. “Yep,” he said, smiling. “I think I’m okay.”

  “Good,” Hank said, then drove a fist square into his face. “That’s for shooting my ship and making me spill my beer, you son of a bitch!”

  “Jensen! That’s no way to treat a prisoner!” Randol said.

  Hank rolled his eyes and ignored him.

  The pirate clutched his nose with both hands. Blood seeped between his fingers and tears streamed out of both eyes.

  “Hello?” he said and cocked a thumb toward his chest. “Hey! I’m a pirate. Of course I attacked you. What did you expect?”

  “I expect you to get used to bleeding if you give me any shit. Now, get out of that coffin slow and easy.”

  The man stumbled out of the life pod and walked toward the chair Hank pointed to. The pirate made a sudden lunge, knocking Hank back a step, and raced toward the exit.

  Sai blocked his path.

  “Hello, Missy,” the pirate said, and tried to grab her.

  Sai caught his wrist and gave it a savage twist. He howled in pain. Sai swept his feet as he fell. She came down on top of him with her knee in his solar plexus. The air whooshed out of his lungs.

  Sai rose, gripped his earring, and pulled. He cried out and let her lead him to the chair. Hank and Chandler could only stare, their mouths hanging open.

  “Someone want to cuff him?” she asked. “Or do I have to do that, too?”

  Chandler moved behind the pirate, cuffing him hand and foot. He gave Sai a nod of newfound respect. “Nice,” he said.

  Hank grinned at Sai. “I think I’m in love.”

  “Can we get on with it?” Sai said.

  “Right,” Chandler said. He turned to the pirate. “We have some questions, and you’d better have some answers or this game isn’t going to be any fun at all. First, what’s your name?”

  The man smiled. “My name is Tenet Jonquil and I’m an open book. I’ll tell you anything and everything you want to know. I have no reason to lie.”

  Hank and Chandler looked at each other and shrugged. Hank spoke. “That’s a refreshing attitude, Tenet, but you just tried to run away.”

  Tenet nodded. “Sure. If I think I can escape, then I’m gonna run like hell. You have to understand I’m in this for myself. If I can get away and steal something to boot, why wouldn’t I?”

  “Well, I suppose that fits,” Hank said.

  “I only joined up with Thorne for the money. I was scrabbling around the streets on Matilda and making a bit here and there as a pickpocket when drunk Confed sailors staggered by with pockets obviously full of credits. Like a burglar when a door’s left unlocked, ‘opportunistic’ is my middle name.”

  “We need to know how to find Thorne’s base. What are the coordinates?” Chandler asked.

  “Therein lies the tale.” Tenet made a fake cough-cough sound then broke off into a hacking fit. “Do you have something to drink? I am parched. The pod must have dehydrated me something fierce.”

  Sai, who sat on the sidelines, piped up. “I’ll get some water.”

  “Er, if you don’t mind, water is rather, well, thinner than I was hoping. I sometimes have difficulty adjusting my system to the local flora. If there was some beer perhaps, or better yet, whiskey. I need a bracing drink after my ordeal.”

  Sai bristled. “Listen, pirate, if you think for one minute that—”

  “Sai, get him a beer. We’ll stay and guard him,” Hank said. “I have a feeling that this guy can tell a mean story. Oh, can you get one for me, too?”

  Sai cocked her head at him and stared, mouth open.

  Hank looked to Chandler, “Beer?”

  Chandler shrugged then nodded.

  “Three,” Hank said, raising three fingers to Sai.

  Sai smiled and returned the gesture, then she lowered two fingers, leaving only her middle finger upright and proud. “I think some water for our frozen storyteller will work just fine.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

  Hank shrugged. “Oh well, I wasn’t that thirsty anyway.”

  “So who’s the little solar flare?” Tenet asked.

  “Mind your own business. We’re asking the questions,” Chandler said.

  “Just making polite conversation,” Tenet said, shifting in his chair. “There’s no need to get cranky about it.”

  Sai returned with the water and waited while Chandler unhooked one hand from the cuffs to allow Tenet to hold the drink. Then Chandler hooked the open handcuff to the chair frame to re-secure him.

  Tenet took a long swallow of the water and made a great show of leaning his head back with eyes closed as he sighed. “Yuck. I don’t see why anyone who had a choice would ever drink that stuff.”

  “So, you have your complimentary drink. Start coughing up the story, pirate.”

  “Tenet, please. Tenet Ezekiel Jonquil, pilot, adventurer, privateer, and rogue, at your service,” he said and tipped his water at the trio.

  Hank grinned. “I hate to admit it, but I kinda like this guy,” he said. “At first I just wanted to kick his ass, but I gotta admit, he’s got style.”

  “I thank you, sir. You asked how I came to this sorry state?”

  Chandler interrupted. “No, I asked you for the coordinates of the base.”

  “Well, yes. That is as true as gospel,
but you see, not quite so simple. Navigating to the pirate base is more than just a set of coordinates. That’s why the base has remained hidden for so long. It takes an experienced hand to manage the helm. For it lies in the dark recesses of the Outrigger Rift. The Rift is a mysterious place, containing zones of dangerous gravity-wave distortions, areas of energetic dark matter that can rip through a ship—”

  “Also vortexes of space-time,” Hank said.

  “Oh, so you know about the vortexes?”

  “Yep. Been there, done that. I actually charted some of it when I was in the Scouts. I can handle the dark waters, so to speak. What I need is either coordinates or landmarks and guideposts.”

  Tenet sighed. “Well, that somewhat complicates things.”

  “How so?” Chandler asked.

  “I had planned to explain how treacherous the area was and try to convince you that you really needed to utilize me as a guide to pilot you there then find some clever way to betray you and get a huge reward for your capture.”

  “You bastard!” Chandler grabbed the neck of Tenet’s tattered Confed uniform.

  “It was brilliant, actually. I mean, what are the odds of this freight hauler here being an expert on the Rift? Well, I suppose they were about the same as his ship having a plasma cannon. That’s two miscalculations in a row. I really need to focus.”

  Chandler reached into his jacket, pulled the slim blaster from his shoulder holster, and aimed it between Tenet’s eyes. “I want you to write out the coordinates. Then I want a map of the base, including the detention area, along with any known guard locations, vulnerable points of attack, entrances and exits, et cetera. Then we’re going to stick you back in that box on ice until we get back. If we don’t get back, then I’m going to instruct the staff to dump the contents of that box into the fusion furnace, so I suggest you don’t make a third miscalculation.”

  Tenet looked cross-eyed at the barrel of the blaster and took a sip of water. “Right-o. As I said, I am an open book, more than happy to cooperate.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  They gathered in the library. Randol punched up a group of star charts that projected into the air between them. Chandler studied the display with an intense stare. Hank had an arm around Sai. He pulled her close and pointed at an area of the chart. The map zoomed in to where he pointed.

  “This is the Outrigger Rift. It serves to keep away uninvited guests. This area is nasty if you don’t know what you’re doing. Weird eddies in the space-time, gravitational vortexes. I made quite a living hauling wrecks out of there when I was younger. The base is off to this side, hidden underground on a cold hunk of mined-out asteroid.”

  A tiny speck expanded into an outline of the planetoid.

  “At this point, I want to tell you that we are better off contacting the Confed to do this. They have the firepower needed to blow these pirates to bits.”

  “Yes, and my daughter Helen with them,” Randol said. “No, I can’t take that risk. We have to try to get her out first.”

  Chandler walked to the display and took over. “In that case, let’s look at our attack options. Our pirate friend, with a little persuasion,” Chandler winked at Hank, “was able to expand on the map I previously obtained. He said he was privy to those areas, such as the detention area, that my other source was not.”

  He worked a few controls, and a sketch superimposed itself on the image of the asteroid. “Thorne mainly concerned himself with concealment when he constructed the base. And that’s where we have our first break. In order to avoid detection, Thorne had to skimp on the sensor arrays, since they cast out too wide a signature and are detectable. He has some passive units installed, but they’re configured to spot large Confed cruisers. I’m assuming that the new pirate lord, Glenn, hasn’t had time to expand these arrays. The Elsa ought to be able to slip in unnoticed.”

  “But you can’t possibly fit a large enough detachment of men in the Elsa,” Randol said. “You’re going to need handheld artillery, possibly some small attack vehicles.”

  Chandler shook his head. “No. We’ve discussed this, and we feel our best chance of success is if we go in alone. Just Hank, Sai, and myself.”

  “And me,” Elsa added from Hank’s com.

  “But that’s insane,” Randol said. “You’ll be completely outnumbered!”

  “The all-out assault is not an option. We’d have that with the Confed, and that’s what you said you wanted to avoid. Too much chaos and too great a risk to Helen,” Chandler said. “We’re not going there to win a war—we’re going there to rescue your daughter. Speed and stealth will count for more than firepower. Once we get away, we’ll call the Confed to come clean out the nest.”

  Hank traced his finger along one side of the structure. “This is where Glenn docks his fighters. Elsa can drop us off on the opposite side of a ridge here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map. “Then while she monitors all communications, we can use hovercycles to move overland in vacsuits to the airlock here. From what Tenet the Ice Pirate said, these corridors are rarely used. We should be able to walk along them, quietly taking out what little resistance we may find there until we reach the opposite side of the security section, here, where the cells are.”

  “How do we know the information is accurate?” Randol asked.

  “We don’t,” Chandler said. “But we have nothing else to go on.”

  Hank continued with his outline. “We can take some equipment and quietly cut through the wall into the cell block. More than likely, this is where they’ll be keeping the girl. The trouble is, we don’t know which cell. This is where we’ll have our largest firefight. Up to five men guard the cell block at all times. But being grunt-level pirates, they’ll probably be stupid and half drunk. The area where we’ll be cutting through is here, just around the corner from the guard station. If we can get through without them spotting us, we should be able to strike quickly and take them out before they can signal for help. We open the cells, find her, stuff her into the extra vacsuit we’ve packed, race back the way we came, and dust off before anyone even knows we’ve been there.”

  Randol shook his head. “It looks good in theory, but it seems you’ve left out a number of variables. What if you’re spotted by roving patrol ships? What if our pirate friend was lying about those corridors? For all we know, Glenn has them heavily guarded. What if the alarm is sounded during the raid on the cell block? What if Helen isn’t even in the cell block? What if you can’t get back to your ship? What are your contingency plans?”

  “You sure know how to screw up a perfectly good plan,” Hank said. “Sounded great to me. Hell, I’m not going now!”

  “We can think this thing to death,” Chandler said. “The fact is, we don’t even know if the pirate base is there. If something goes wrong, we’re more than likely going to die. This is the only chance we have to get your daughter. I say we go for it.”

  Randol nodded. “I understand. Thank you. You will all be well rewarded for this.”

  “We’re not doing this for money. We’re doing this to get our lives back,” Sai said.

  “But,” Hank said, nudging Sai with an elbow, “a reward would be greatly appreciated. Fuel is mighty expensive, you know.”

  Randol watched the Elsa take off. His own transport to Nebula Prime awaited him. He had an hour until he had to depart.

  The mansion was almost empty. His few remaining staff were elsewhere performing their duties. Randol was alone with his thoughts for the first time in days, and his mind reeled.

  He wandered down the corridor to his daughter’s bedroom. He’d seldom entered the room while Helen was with him. Now, as he stepped through the doorway and stared at her belongings and paintings on the walls, he cursed himself for a fool. He’d been in the process of sending her away to be educated. To become an adult. But Randol had never taken the time to get to know the child.

  What would Margaret have thought of the way he’d raised their daughter? Helen was a bright en
ough girl, a kind soul, but that was her mother coming out in her. He’d done his best to stifle the girl’s caring side, calling her weak. Telling her she had to grow up. To become hard. Logical. Stoic, like her father.

  Her father, the fool.

  Randol had enough wealth for a thousand men, but his greatest treasure had slipped through his fingers.

  He prayed that Chandler, Hank, and Sai would bring his daughter safely back to him. He would do his part and agree to the sale. He couldn’t care less about the corporation or his riches. He would trade them all in a heartbeat to hold his little girl once more in his arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It was the first time they’d been physically in the same room together in five years. Randol, who could barely tolerate Oke and Hemming by holo, couldn’t stand them at all in the flesh. He couldn’t bear to look at Maxwell at the far end of the table. His humiliation and anger were too great.

  Oke stood and adjusted his blue kimono. “Let me just say that I’m even more certain this is the best course of action today than I was when we began this endeavor. I’m convinced this will mean the difference to Nebulaco surviving these temporary hard times. This will give us the resources we need to hold out until Thorne is brought to justice, and once that happens we will see a return to prosperity.”

  Hemming rose, adjusting her elaborate purple velvet cape over her leopard-print leotard. She looked like a circus performer. “Let’s just get on with it. No matter how badly you and I want this vote to succeed, we all know Lord Randol’s position and his stubborn refusal to listen to reason. Your flowery words won’t make any difference. He still has a large enough block of stock to make our votes worthless. This affair is a waste of my time.”

  Randol stood, not looking into the eyes of his fellow lords. “I no longer have any objections to the stock sale,” he said. “Certain events have come to pass that have made me see reason and the futility of standing in the way.”