The Lost Corsair (The Corsair Uprising Space Opera Series Book 4)

by Trevor Schmidt

  Ju-Long hammered his fist down on the holo-emitter controls and the image faded away. He turned and stormed out of the cockpit. Astrid unbuckled herself and followed, ignoring Nix and Saturn’s questioning stares.

  When she’d left, Nix turned to Saturn and said, “I guess that’s our cue.”

  Saturn wiped the sides of her eyes and then opened the star charts where Zega’s face had just been before. She manipulated the image and zoomed out from the planet Garuda.

  “Where to?”

  “Rumani,” Nix stated, his voice betraying his discontent.

  “Where?”

  “The fourth planet, a few weeks beyond Taleris. My intel suggests that’s where we’ll find the mercenary in blue.”

  “Death Wish.”

  Nix nodded.

  He turned on the intercom and said, “Ju-Long, Astrid, hold onto something, we’re going up.”

  After a moment Nix pulled up on the controls, bringing the nose of the ship up toward the sky and driving all available power to the engines. It only took a couple of minutes for The Garuda to breach the planet’s atmosphere and break orbit.

  7

  Six Hours Later

  “What do you think this means?” Ju-Long asked the rest of the crew.

  The galley was engulfed in the pungent aroma of sweaty feet and curry as Nix proceeded to cook his signature dish, Leguma. Astrid recoiled when Nix moved to ladle some of the orange liquid into her bowl. The purple Nerva plant swirled serenely, floating near the top of the broth. The Ansaran turned her nose up and looked to be holding back from vomiting.

  “It might not mean anything,” Nix finally said in response to Ju-Long’s question.

  Ju-Long moved his bowl in front of Astrid and gratefully accepted the Dinari’s ladle of piquant soup.

  “Dinevra, friend,” Nix said to him.

  Ju-Long nodded his thanks.

  “It’s really not bad once you get past the smell,” Ju-Long assured Astrid, who didn’t appear overly optimistic.

  Ju-Long could hear the Ansaran’s stomach grumbling. They’d left in such a hurry, none of the crew had made time to eat. He took the spoon from Nix and scooped some of the orange broth into Astrid’s bowl.

  “Hold your nose,” the Dinari suggested, not unkindly.

  Saturn snickered and used her spoon to move the Nerva plant around in her own bowl in a figure eight pattern, undoubtedly to cool down the piping-hot liquid.

  Astrid wore her disgust plainly on her face.

  “I’m sorry, Nix, but what kind of food do you have to hold your nose to eat?”

  “The best kind,” he replied without delay.

  Ju-Long interrupted, “Can we get back to the issue at hand? The memory core.”

  Saturn sipped some Leguma from her spoon and said, “The mining craft’s sensors picked up a lot of data on the singularity. More than this ship’s computer has in its database anyway.”

  Nix chimed in, “It won’t help us recreate the event. We would need The Azure Key for that.”

  “I’m not talking about recreating it. We could modify The Garuda’s sensors to pick up the signature of The Three. The Azure Key and whatever other devices Vesta Corporation has cooked up.”

  “We don’t even know for sure if the other devices really exist, let alone what they do,” Ju-Long mused. “How can we modify the sensors to track a similar event when they might be as different as...as...?”

  “The Narran Flemox and the Kasha?” Nix offered.

  Ju-Long turned to Astrid and mouthed “Kasha?”

  Astrid gave him a look that seemed to mean she’d fill him in later.

  Saturn continued to spoon Leguma into her mouth, pausing only to say, “The answer is in this memory core, I can feel it.”

  “Astrid,” Ju-Long said, “Do you think it can be done?”

  Astrid stared hard at her bowl, blinking rapidly when she realized the rest of the crew was waiting for a response. Her blue and green eyes met Ju-Long’s. He couldn’t help but notice her eyes boiled with the curiosity of a child.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, “I suppose it’s possible...”

  Nix licked the edge of his bowl after he devoured the last bit of his concoction. He looked around as though wondering why no one else had finished their food yet. Finally, the Dinari’s eyes settled on Astrid across the table.

  “Though it pains me to admit it, you have more knowledge of The Three than just about anyone. What would you need to get it done?”

  Astrid covered her mouth with her palm, taking a moment to think hard. After a few seconds of silence, she slid her hand back down to her side.

  “The telemetry from the human vessel is a good start, but the sensors on this ship won’t do the job. They couldn’t be modified properly. What we need is to integrate the multi-spectral analyzers from an Ansaran vessel.”

  “From which type of craft?” Saturn asked.

  “Any of them would boost your sensitivity, but a scout ship would be ideal.”

  Nix looked to be holding back from what he surely thought was a slight on his ship’s capabilities.

  “What exactly would we be looking for with these sensors?” Ju-Long asked, confused.

  “Temporal distortions, disruptions in space-time; there are a number of angles.”

  “Ansaran scanners can sense that?”

  “For the most part...yes,” Astrid confirmed with slight hesitation. “But the technology is far from perfect. We have a number of research facilities, including the one on Narra, working on the technology.”

  “I’d take any help we can get,” Nix responded, averting his eyes from the rest of the crew.

  “Was that a thank you?” Ju-Long asked incredulously, his jaw intentionally dropping comically.

  The tension between Nix and Astrid had cooled in the previous months, but conversations between them were still overly cordial, as though Nix was afraid that at any moment his pent-up rage could be released. Ju-Long sometimes liked to point out how much progress they’d made, if only to get under the Dinari’s skin. Someone had to keep things interesting on long space journeys.

  The muscles in Nix’s cheeks tightened and he squinted his bulbous golden eyes at Ju-Long. The Dinari pushed himself up from the table and left without another word.

  “Was that necessary?” Saturn asked Ju-Long.

  “It really was,” he responded with a satisfied smile.

  8

  The Caretaker’s Spire, Garuda Colony, Planet Garuda

  The aging Dinari leaned into his gnarled staff. His knees had nearly buckled several times after standing for so long. Zega seemed to have made a habit of making him wait. With one claw he began tracing the natural lines in the wood of his walking stick, letting his mind drift to Nix and his friends. Elder Bartle never was much of a spy. It had taken everything he had to formulate this plot, and he doubted if he had the wherewithal to alter the plan if it proved necessary. Those sorts of things were for far younger minds than his. Two hundred Ansaran years had rendered his senses dulled.

  Elder Bartle approached the window, edging as close to it as he dared. He never was one for heights. His insides twisted as he gazed down at the colony far below. It seemed peaceful from on high, but then, he imagined just about anything would from such heights.

  Elder Bartle turned just as the ornate twin doors creaked open. Two scarred Dinari were pushing on either door, their progress slowed by the sheer size of the constructs. He recognized one of them as Riken, one of Zega’s brutes, but the other was a new face. A recent addition, Bartle reasoned.

  “His eminence is ready for you, Elder,” Riken said, respect entering his voice.

  It was nice to know somebody still appreciated their elders, though he didn’t expect as much out of the disfigured Dinari. Surely he would have presented a more pleasing face if he hadn’t spent so many years in the fighting circles. Despite his later transgressions, Elder Bartle once knew Riken’s parents when the Dinari was but a small boy. He
doubted if Riken even remembered Bartle coming around when he was a child. Regardless, his parents’ sacrifice during The Long War would not be forgotten. Elder Bartle nodded to the rough Dinari and passed by him, ignoring Zega’s newest bodyguard entirely; an intentional move.

  The Caretaker’s spire still bore the scars from the recent assault. The chamber’s many pillars were pock-marked from laser blasts in places, while a few had toppled altogether. It was a wonder the top floor of the spire was even usable after The Garuda opened fire. It took weeks to sweep up the innumerable fragments of stone and the windows were just now being replaced. Elder Bartle wasn’t around to see most of the aftermath. Instead, he was brought into Zega’s service after almost a month with no sign of Nix or the crew. Zega had surely expected Bartle to flip on his protégé rather than face a death squad. Outmaneuvering the engorged Dinari was no easy matter, but he may have finally earned the kind of trust and influence he needed in order for his plan to succeed.

  “Elder Bartle,” Zega voiced slowly.

  The old Dinari shuffled up to Zega’s desk. A seat rose out of the floor, which Bartle gratefully took. The pain in his feet subsided momentarily, before continuing its dull ache which never seemed to fully abate.

  “They received the supplies as ordered.”

  “I’m aware.”

  The elder folded his hands in his lap and rested his staff against his shoulder. He asked, “My part in this matter is complete, so why have you summoned me?”

  Zega gave him a toothy grin, his yellowed fangs dripping with the remainders of his lunch.

  “It must have irked you to turn on Nix as you did.”

  “We’ve spoken about this at length. The boy is a fool. He never listened to me.”

  Elder Bartle leaned forward and continued, “I won’t be caught on the wrong side of history. Do you think it chance I’ve lived so long?”

  Zega chuckled.

  “A dangerous thing, as we both well know.”

  “It’s a shame they got away. I would have like to be afforded the chance to further educate Nix. Unfortunately, our mutual friend is as hard-headed as ever.”

  “He is, he is,” Zega said with several quick nods, jiggling his neck fat vigorously. “But their escape from this planet was no coincidence.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everything is proceeding as planned.”

  Zega brought a hologram up over his desk; a map of the Ansara system. A flashing yellow dot marked the location of The Garuda on a course toward Narra.

  “You’re tracking them,” Elder Bartle uttered.

  The elder felt a bout of anger boiling up inside his chest. He wasn’t sure he could maintain a level voice for much longer.

  “To what end?” Elder Bartle asked flatly.

  “We all must bear our burdens. You of all people should know that, Elder.”

  Elder Bartle tried to regain his composure. If Zega wanted wordplay he’d do his best to accommodate.

  “A virtually null phrase. Always has been. Did you know it was Larkspur who invented it?”

  Zega smiled and relented, “The Larkspur? I did not.”

  “General Larkspur was convinced if he played on the guilt of the Dinari people he could persuade them to join the war effort. But the fool was never satisfied. Fickle as they came. Not a good trait for a General, mind you.”

  Zega played with a green gem on his sleeve and leaned back in his chair.

  “His folly at the Battle for Coressa Prime is infamous, though I’d always thought the phrase originated far earlier. Funny thing, time.”

  Elder Bartle smiled.

  “I know a thing or two about it.”

  Zega nodded and turned his piercing eyes on the elder.

  “So I hear.”

  “What do you hear, exactly?”

  Zega considered him for a moment and then looked to his bodyguards across the room. He leaned in and said with disgust in a low voice, “The Three.”

  “The Three?”

  Zega tilted his head and replied, “Come now, Elder, it’s said if there’s a mystery in the universe you either know it or were there to witness it.”

  Elder Bartle shifted uncomfortably where he sat.

  “A bit of an uncomfortable figure of speech. I’ve lived many years, indeed, but some among us have no tact about it, do they?”

  Zega spun the hologram over his desk with deceptively dexterous fingers.

  “Delicacy was never a prominent Dinari trait.”

  Elder Bartle retorted, “So too, deceit.”

  Zega stopped the spin of the orange hologram.

  “Then let us cut to it.”

  “Let’s.”

  Zega scrunched up his face and said, “Someone close to me has taken a keen interest in The Three, but he won’t tell me why. Normally I don’t dabble in those sorts of things, but he was adamant I allow The Garuda to follow him. You know more about exceptional artifacts than most. So, what’s he after?”

  Elder Bartle nodded to himself and tightened his grip on his knotted staff.

  “The same as you, only he surely has other means in mind.”

  “Am I so transparent to you?”

  “Only when it suits your needs, no doubt.”

  “You’re wittier than you give yourself credit, Elder.”

  The old Dinari smirked and replied, “There’s an oft forgotten trait on which I tend to focus more than the average Dinari, it is true.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Humility.”

  With a curt laugh at the irony of the elder’s last statement, Zega stood and began waddling toward the long, curving bay windows. Two Dinari workers were working hard to install the final replacement window. When Zega approached he waved them away. He stood there at the edge of the precipice, hands behind his back, gazing down on all that he ruled and scowling at its utter insignificance.

  Elder Bartle used his wooden staff to prop himself up to his feet. His toes screamed out in protest. His joints cracked from the strain as he crossed the room to join Zega by the window.

  “Tell me about The Three,” Zega said collectedly, his change in tone capturing the serious nature of his request.

  “What do you wish to know?”

  “Where did they come from? What do they do? Why would Death Wish want them?”

  Elder Bartle cocked his head and examined the caretaker’s demeanor.

  “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”

  Zega avoided making eye contact with him, instead maintaining his gaze out the open window.

  “Only a fool wouldn’t be.”

  “In that, you’re right,” Elder Bartle said, pressing his weight against his staff and driving it into the refinished tile beneath his feet.

  He continued, “What do you know of Vesta Corporation?”

  “The humans have spoken of it before. What’s its significance?”

  “The Three were not Ansaran or Dinari inventions at all. The humans created them.”

  “The humans don’t have the technology. I’ve seen the wreckage of their ship.”

  “You’re right, they don’t. At least not yet.”

  “Then you’re suggesting...”

  Elder Bartle caught a glimpse of the colony from the great heights of the spire and edged backward uncomfortably. After his intestines realigned and his heart returned to a normal rhythm, he nodded to Zega to confirm.

  “Our people have long theorized of wormholes and other phenomena. It would clarify a few things, would it not?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Zega turned to the elder and said with disgust coloring his voice, “The Ansarans were adamant that exploring space was a waste of time; that there were no other species outside this system. The Azure Key brought the humans ten thousand light years to our doorstep. Space which for millennia we assumed was filled with dead worlds, boring stars, and a collection of assorted gasses.”

  Zega dropped his hands to his side and continued, musi
ng, “The Azure Key opens a singularity between two points. What of the others?”

  Elder Bartle frowned.

  “I’m afraid that’s where my relative expertise fades to speculation. Any number of spatial phenomena are attributed to The Three, but there isn’t a soul who knows for sure. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.”

  Zega scrutinized the elder’s face, looking for the tiniest chink in his armor.

  “You’re holding out.”

  “I didn’t realize you wanted a lesson in mythology and the tales of drunken fools.”

  “I’ve gotten plenty of those at The Sand’s Edge, give me something firm.”

  Elder Bartle questioned in his mind how much he should reveal. Building trust was a perilous task when dealing with ruffians like Zega. Perhaps a more direct approach would be best.

  “You don’t care about The Three. What you care about is Death Wish. You’ll never truly hold this colony until he’s dealt with, and if he were to grow in power you worry about what could stop him.”

  “I don’t give you enough credit, old man.”

  “I’ve had a long time to think about this.”

  “And?”

  “If you want to know what he’s after, there’s really only one question you need answered.”

  Zega’s eyes locked onto Elder Bartle’s in anticipation.

  The elder continued, “Why did the Corsairs disappear?”

  9

  The Wanderer, In Orbit Around Narra’s Second Moon

  Death Wish plotted a course for Rumani and transferred what power the engines needed to break orbit. She let the autopilot take over after a moment and leaned back in her chair. The small Ansaran ship had a well-made, clean interior, but its armaments were seriously lacking. The experimental craft’s engine, however, was more powerful than any she’d yet seen. Master Liam had his reasons for choosing such a ship, she told herself, he always did.

  She caught a reflection of herself in the cockpit’s window, muddled by the stars in the background. Her dark scales had softened after remaining under the protection of her armor for so long. Much the same, it was difficult to make out her long and lean limbs due to the bulk of her blue scaled armor. It was a burden she was resigned to bear. It was because of that armor that she seldom saw the sun the way she used to on Garuda. Still, she doubted if she’d ever be free of the lines in her face from all of the stress she’d undertaken in the course of her life. Few had seen as much as she had with her worldly golden eyes.