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

by Trevor Schmidt

  “Safe zone?” Saturn asked.

  “The colonies are located near a number of mines. Those who have ventured more than fifty kilometers away from the colony have returned with horrifying stories. The stuff of legend, really.”

  Saturn sighed and replied, “Any chance those legends have any truth to them?”

  She patted her mending right thigh and continued, “I’d hate to be caught off guard.”

  “I’ve never had reason to leave the safe zone,” Nix replied, flicking his eyes to Saturn and then quickly away in shame.

  It was his fault, he thought. There was always a chance the beasts of legend weren’t truly gone for good. He could have warned them. The stories of drunken traders or no, the Kashas remained, and if they did then so too might the others.

  “We’re not going down there to mess with freaky beasts,” Ju-Long commented, “We’re only going for one reason.”

  “Revenge,” Saturn seethed.

  •

  Misra Vanek engaged his ship’s autopilot and sat back in his soft leather chair. He pulled down his mask and let the ship’s cold air cool down his face. The humidity of his breath reflected back at him had always been one of his biggest grievances with that damn getup. The lengths he went to hide his identity were extreme at times, but necessary.

  “Sir,” a robotic voice said, “Will you require my assistance on this mission?”

  Misra turned to face the squat robot. Reznik was half his height with short limbs and metal claws for hands which were only really good for gripping a laser pistol. The robot’s yellow eyes radiated even more light than the orb floating overhead. Its awkward torso was as blocky and cobbled-together as Misra’s own pulse rifle. Still, it was functional and that’s what mattered.

  In his many years of exile he’d found time to build his companion, programming it with bits and pieces of information Misra might find useful in the future. Most of the time the bot was more of a burden than anything else, but it beat traveling through space alone. Reznik was the only name for it that made any sense to Misra. In his native tongue it meant butcher.

  “Wait on the ship and monitor. If I need you, I’ll call,” Misra said, gesturing to the miniature console on his bracer.

  “I look forward to rendering my assistance—KILL—when needed.”

  The robot used one of his clawed hands to bash at his round cranium several times. Misra cocked his head and squinted suspiciously at his creation.

  “Another misfiring circuit? How about you go in the back and run a self-diagnostic.”

  “Right away, sir,” the robot replied before jogging clumsily toward the rear of the ship, its grooved feet clanking loudly on the grated floors.

  “Fucking hell,” Misra said to himself.

  He used one gloved hand to wipe more sweat off his lip. Misra didn’t have time for malfunctioning bots. He needed answers. Why did The Garuda choose that Dinari? What in the hell were two humans doing this far into space? And where was the son-of-a-bitch who was stealing all his business?

  Misra didn’t care about the Order’s mission. Seldom few still did after what happened during the war. But if he couldn’t earn enough Rooks to keep on flying, what was the point of going on? Regardless, this one was personal. Misra hadn’t climbed the ranks of one of the most feared organizations in existence to be edged out by some cocky newcomer. Misra Vanek took what was his.

  31

  Rumani, Twenty Kilometers Southwest of the Safe Zone

  Master Liam’s pacing was beginning to wear on Sestra. He’d been at it for two hours now, speaking softly to himself about matters which didn’t make any sense to her; something about the flow of Aether between dimensions and the concept of time. The mostly white interior of the ship was further illuminated by bright orbs hanging near the four corners of the cockpit. Despite their luminosity, Master Liam’s face seemed to attract the shadows. His pale skin collected beads of sweat like morning dew gathering on blades of grass.

  Sestra turned her focus to the pyramid, continuing to work on the problem of its housing, and with any luck adjusting it to boost the maximum energy output. It was hard to tell with alien technology, and her master offered her little help in the matter. After all, Vesta Corporation’s scientists had created it, Liam was only their vassal, ensuring their bold plan came to fruition. Though, he might object to such a description of his duties.

  “How much longer?” Liam asked, frustration coloring his voice.

  “Not long now. I’m making my final adjustments.”

  He stopped his pacing and regarded her with a hint of a smile.

  “And how large of a portal will we be able to form?”

  “It’s hard to say for sure, Master,” Sestra replied, then hedged, “It should be enough to get them through.”

  Liam nodded and moved to the cockpit’s side window, examining the jagged hills and stunning mountain range to the north. He seemed to be lost in their tall peaks and the brisk wind which occasionally rocked the ship back and forth.

  Finally, Liam said, “I’ll want a full test. This whole mission will be pointless if we can’t even capture it. We’re behind schedule as it is.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  •

  The Caretaker’s Spire, Garuda Colony, Planet Garuda

  Riken tapped his claw against the hilt of the jeweled blade on his hip as he strode toward Zega, who stood watching the colony and idly patting is engorged belly. In his left hand he clutched a silver pendant with a curious glyph carved into it. If the old man had been so adamant about the object’s meaning, perhaps it was worth something to someone. Thinking about that night brought no pleasure to Riken’s heart. He rather liked the old geezer. Riken might have been a rough sort of man, but he wasn’t merciless. He’d given Elder Bartle the cleanest death he could.

  “Good work,” Zega said to him, the last syllable cut off as he attempted to pry a piece of lizard bone from between his teeth.

  “It was done as you commanded; no witnesses.”

  “And the bodies?”

  Riken shook his head.

  “No one will find them. I saw to that.”

  Zega smiled, his many chins jiggling as he did. He felt the lapels of his newly tailored robes, their silky texture apparent even from afar. They were the finest Riken had ever seen, with embedded jewels unlike any found elsewhere in Garuda Colony. They stood in steep contrast to Zega’s engorged frame, the slime of several lizards oozing down his lip. Riken tried hard to recall a time when Zega hadn’t just eaten, though none came to mind.

  “Excellent,” Zega said at last, “Now that that business is taken care of we can attend to other matters.”

  “Zega—Caretaker,” Riken corrected himself, “I don’t think the resistance movement is finished. There may be others involved.”

  “Oh?” Zega remarked.

  “The pendant,” Riken said, pointing to the silver necklace in Zega’s hand.

  Zega examined the symbol more closely, noticing the bifurcated spiral. His golden eyes squinted with disdain.

  “What does it mean?” Riken asked.

  Zega clenched his fist around the pendant and snapped the chain, warping the elongated metal ornament.

  “It means The Long War didn’t finish off the last of the noble houses after all. This complicates things.”

  Riken thought a moment, and then asked, “What will you do?”

  Zega replied promptly, “This colony has gone through more Caretakers in a year than reigned in the last century. I’ve come too far to let a band of highborn scum wrest this away from me. I’m not just going to root them out, I’m going to poison their very memories. I’m going to salt their graves so no plant could even dream of growing there. No,” he said, dropping the warped necklace, “I’ll erase them from history.”

  32

  The Garuda, In Orbit Around Rumani

  Nix examined the sensor readouts, his eyes focusing on a blip just southwest of the largest of the mountain range
s. He pointed to it and looked to Saturn quizzically.

  “What the hell is that?”

  Saturn looked over his shoulder and shook her head, her expression blank.

  “I don’t know, but that energy reading is massive.”

  Ju-Long and Astrid shared a quick glance. Astrid spoke first.

  “It’s one of The Three. Has to be.”

  Nix’s console lit up red with a notification.

  “Misra’s trying to contact us,” he said to the crew.

  Saturn rose from her chair and placed one hand near the console to see for herself.

  “Better put it through.”

  The console projected Misra’s holographic image up over the center of the dash, his black garments pulled tightly across his face and colored with the typical orange light from the emitters. The glow from behind his eyepieces were no longer visible, something which struck Nix as odd.

  “Are you reading that too?” Misra asked them.

  “Yes,” Nix hedged, “But how exactly are you if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Astrid and Ju-Long had to gut an experimental Ansaran scout ship to boost the sensitivity of their sensors, Nix thought. What would a Katala ship be doing with that kind of technology?

  Misra’s voice conveyed his annoyance, “That’s none of your concern. Given its power signature I suggest going in hot. No sense in messing around.”

  “Hold on,” Saturn interjected, “If that’s what I think it is down there we might want to formulate a more thought-out plan.”

  Misra turned his head to examine a side console, “The point is moot; looks like he’s coming to us.”

  Nix split Misra’s hologram with an image of their star charts, already locked in on the Rumanian surface.

  “He’s right, they’re on an orbital trajectory.”

  Misra’s voice grew more enthusiastic, “Power up those weapons boys and girls, it’s time to rain down some fire.”

  The channel was closed from Misra’s side and Nix gave the crew a sidelong glare.

  “This is it.”

  Saturn returned to her seat and pulled up her targeting scanner, the faintest smile crossing her lips.

  “On the gun, Ju-Long, let’s let him have it.”

  •

  Death Wish braced for turbulence, using one hand to steady herself as they broke through the atmosphere. She looked over to Liam in the co-pilot’s seat. He was calm and focused, the thrill of battle sharpening his senses.

  “The device is almost recharged,” Sestra said, “Think you can hold them off for a minute?”

  “Don’t fly in a straight line and we’ll be fine,” Liam said sardonically.

  “Funny,” Sestra replied.

  •

  Misra pulled the auxiliary targeting scanner toward him. Operating the ship solo wasn’t an easy task, but his oaf of a creation wasn’t good for much more than button mashing. He prodded the screen and indicated his target.

  “What do you think, Reznik? Pulse cannon?”

  “An excellent choice, sir. That ought to—MURDER—work just fine.”

  The squat robot nearly jumped out of its seat with every malfunctioning phrase. It would have been funny, but Misra never reveled in poor workmanship. When this was all over he’d have to give Reznik a full inspection. Sure, it had been invented to kill, but only when required. He couldn’t have a robot with its unique abilities running around half-cocked. It could create an embarrassing scene, especially when asked who crafted such an abomination.

  Reznik extended its arms and pressed a few buttons, which would have seemed random if Misra hadn’t programmed it to do so before a space battle. The lines of Aether running overhead began to quicken, their color morphing from purple to gold over several seconds.

  Misra spoke to the ship, “You hear me Animus?”

  The Aether flowed even quicker and the holographic emitters sputtered until they projected the image of a sullen Dinari.

  “I hear everything, Misra. How may we assist you?”

  “I’ve got a ship needs blowing up. Care to lend a hand?”

  “I’m awfully busy,” the Dinari said with a sigh.

  Misra snorted, “Doing what? Floating around through circuit boards? This son of a bitch is stealing all my business. You want to be grounded?”

  The Dinari’s head sunk.

  “Fine, let’s make this quick,” Animus said, his face suddenly bombarded by a tongue the size of his torso. He continued, repeating to himself, “We all must bear burdens. We all must bear burdens.”

  Misra smiled and retorted, “That’s the spirit.”

  33

  “Here he comes,” Saturn exclaimed.

  Misra’s ship swooped in front of The Garuda and opened fire on Death Wish, its broad blue lasers hitting the mercenary’s hull hard. Death Wish’s silver ship burned its thrusters and spun in a short arc past Misra and The Garuda. A short red burst fired out the rear gun of the Ansaran ship, blasting one of the folded wings of Misra’s ship.

  “Astrid,” Saturn beckoned.

  “On it,” the Ansaran said, pulling her forearm to the left and pursuing.

  Ju-Long shouted, “Locked on.”

  Saturn felt herself smile.

  “Fire!”

  The Garuda let spew a blue laser, which blew off one of the Ansaran ship’s mirrored tailfins.

  Nix pointed to his screen, mouth agape.

  “The power surge; it’s happening again.”

  A brilliant blue light emerged from the rear of the Ansaran ship. It spiraled and then coalesced into a spinning torrent of light, disrupting the background of stars around it. The portal grew in size until the Ansaran ship broke off the beam. The wormhole hung there in the dead of space for mere moments before it erupted in an amalgamation of metal and violet light. Five ships escaped the portal before it collapsed, each emitting the same purple hue in the grooves of their struts. Those were Dinari ships, Saturn thought.

  Several cobalt beams bombarded The Garuda and Misra’s ship before any of the crew had thought to respond. Saturn gripped her targeting scanner to balance herself from the violent crash of their lasers against the hull. Though the arm which held the targeting console was thick and sturdy, Saturn felt it creak as she wrenched on it.

  “Evasive maneuvers,” Saturn ordered.

  “Maybe Nix should drive,” she suggested.

  “Use your instincts, the ship will do the rest,” Nix responded, bringing up his keypad and typing away furiously.

  Astrid pulled up, putting some distance between The Garuda and the other ships before coming about. Before them, Saturn could see Misra’s ship avoiding a number of laser blasts, a golden tinge glowing in the grooves beneath his ship’s wings.

  “Do you see that?” Saturn asked Nix. “I’ve seen that somewhere before.”

  “Let’s just focus on taking out some of these ships,” Nix said, then added curiously, “But the way they fly...”

  •

  Misra clamped down his grip on the forward laser controls, sending a blast which cut through the underbelly of one of the enemy ships. That Death Wish must think himself pretty smart, Misra thought, summoning Corsairs from another plane. He’d seen something like that twice before, and neither occurrence had led to a very pleasant day.

  “Power up the main gun, Reznik, things have changed.”

  “With pleasure, sir,” the robot said, bubbling with enthusiasm.

  The bot flipped two switches and a separate screen popped up from the dash along with a sleek joystick. It had taken Misra several months to fabricate it to the specs he remembered from his old ship. It would never have occurred to the Dinari ship builders to create something so rudimentary, or so much fun.

  “Take aim and fire at will.”

  Reznik gripped the joystick and pulled on the red trigger, its metal jaw dropping slightly. Misra had a suspicion that if Reznik were a person it would be smiling right then. Then again, he thought, he could personify the machine all he
wanted but it was still short of anything close to artificial intelligence. It was programmed well enough to fool some, but there were moments, truly telling moments, where Misra was reminded of that fact. This, however, wasn’t one of them. As he watched his creation scream ‘Die’ into the targeting scanner, the bot played the part of a person quite well, down to the bloodlust of even the best of men in times of crisis.

  •

  An explosion was stifled by the vacuum of space, being extinguished as quickly as it was formed. Nix saw the bodies of two Dinari, largely intact, float past The Garuda’s cockpit window. For a moment he saw their frozen faces before Astrid pulled to the right to avoid the shooting wreckage.

  “What the hell was that?” Astrid asked, frightened.

  “It’s The Kasha,” Nix said, staring in awe as the golden beam of Aether dissipated into nothing.

  Before any of the crew could respond an indictor flashed on Nix’s screen and he pulled up a hologram of Misra.

  “What are you waiting for?” Misra asked with his gruff voice. “Case you hadn’t noticed those are Corsairs out there.”

  Misra cut the feed once more.

  “Son of a bitch,” Saturn said, fazed.

  Nix began pressing buttons and brought the main gun online. His targeting scanner located all seven remaining ships, marking The Garuda and The Kasha in green triangles and the rest in red. He pointed a claw to the nearest enemy ship and it further illuminated, a spinning yellow circle encapsulating the red triangle. Nix looked out the window to get his bearings and saw the flash just before it hit.

  The ship shook wildly off-kilter. Astrid burned a starboard thruster to reverse the slow spin the Corsair’s laser had caused. Deep within The Garuda something stirred. Nix’s screen flashed off and on erratically. He looked to the rest of the crew as they began to experience similar interruptions. Aether swirled angrily overhead, the purple flow becoming injected with flecks of red until those small particles grew in number to overtake the stream entirely. The grates beneath Nix’s feet rattled and he heard something he’d not heard since the desert so many months ago.