Tate massaged the tiny bump under the skin of her forearm and thought about her family. Were they alive? She looked around the seated group and the older adults, who stood farther away. She counted seven from the planet, including herself and Emily. Bella was the only older one she remembered. The others were strangers, though her parents could be among them and she'd never know it. Emily nudged her. Bella was still speaking.
"Moving from planet to planet," Bella said, "we keep one step ahead of the syndicate, setting up temporary camps to retrieve refugees, then moving on. Now it is your turn. You are old enough to help send supplies to the children." Bella paused as though to let this news sink in. "I won't lie to you. It is dangerous work and many have died. We retrieve some of our goods from the privateers," she continued, her gaze settling on Tate. "They call us pirates, but we are only taking back what was stolen from us—to keep our children alive, to keep ourselves alive. Each of you will become a member of this force."
Emily squeezed Tate's hand. "Pirates. You'll be right at home, me hearty." Tate felt sick to her stomach.
Later that night, lying with Emily in a soft bed that hurt her back, Tate felt bile rise in her throat. "Do you think it's true?" she asked. Emily stroked her hair. "Is what true?"
"Everything. Our parents. They're dead?" That's what Bella had told them in private, after speaking to the group.
Emily nodded. Tate's eyes filled with tears. It was Emily who had more to suffer. She had mourned her family once already. Tate barely remembered hers. But now it was Emily who curled around her in comfort and held her. They were all the other had left.
For the next year, Tate and Emily and the other recruits underwent an intense apprenticeship. Real pirating, Tate learned, was nothing like the games she'd played as a child. The pirate ship, with its narrow bunks, claustrophobia-inducing passageways, and the constant awareness that all that separated her from the deadly void of space was a thin metal shell, was nothing like the roomy craft she'd imagined in her youth.
Tate's first mission had terrified her. The point, their captain had instructed them, was to overtake their prey with minimal damage to either side. "We need their ships as much as their cargo," he told his apprentices, so firepower was limited.
Tate stared at the dagger she had been handed. "What? No laser rifles?" Captain Reilly laughed. "Someone has a vivid imagination. If you miss with a laser and pierce the hull, you die. Lasers need to be powered and fuel is expensive. If we do our job right, we can hit them before they know we're there."
Space portals were the key to their success, he said, because they allowed fighters to jump from ship to ship. To demonstrate, the captain guided the pirate vessel behind a small asteroid as a large cargo freighter floated by. When they were close enough, he opened a portal, like a simple doorway onto the other ship, and his fighters streamed across. "Cargo ships have few crew members," he'd told them in his briefing. "And they carry few weapons." Tate's heart pounded as she jumped through the portal, Emily ahead of her, daggers drawn. They entered a cargo bay filled with crates of food and building materials. Silently, their leader motioned them to spread out. As they entered the passageway, they split up, one group heading to the bridge, another to the engine room, and the third, including Tate and Emily, hanging behind to secure the route back off the ship.
Huddled by the bay door, Tate heard shouts but couldn't see the fighting. Then darkness enveloped them. The dagger's handle grew slick in her sweaty palm. She reached for Emily, but did not dare speak. They held hands in the dark, listening. The ship lurched to a halt. Footsteps rang out on the metal floor of the passageway. Emily's hand slipped from hers, and she shook as she held her weapon ready. Someone slammed into Tate, knocking her to the floor. Pain seared through her bicep, and she swung her dagger, feeling it slice into flesh. Hot, raspy breaths grated in her ear as she struggled to free herself from under whoever had fallen.
The lights flickered on. Tate blinked, blinded briefly. A man lay at her feet, blood pouring from a deep wound to his gut. Emily knelt beside him, pulling her own dagger from his back, her eyes wide.
It was over in an eyeblink, yet every detail seared into Tate's memory, down to the sound of her blade cutting the cloth of the man's shirt, then his flesh. As he fell, he'd sliced her arm with his own weapon.
Emily was quiet later, as they sat on the bunk in their cabin, and she wrapped a gauze bandage around Tate's arm. She'd put five stitches in to close the wound. That had also been part of their training. Tate watched her, unable to read her expression. "What did you think, Em?"
Emily looked up, startled, as if out of a daydream. "About what?"
"The fight, the mission. What else? Are you okay?"
Color rose on Emily's cheeks, her breathing deepened. "It was amazing, T, wasn't it? This is it. What we were meant to do."
"We killed a man," Tate said. She didn't know which of them had dealt the fatal blow. She didn't want to know. Until that moment when she'd struck with her blade, the reality of a pirate's life had been abstract, unreal. She was torn between her loathing of what they had done, what they needed to do to survive, and the responsibility she felt to those who relied on her for their own survival.
Emily didn't say anything, but returned her focus to Tate's arm. When she finished, she put her hand against Tate's cheek, her eyes dark and fierce. "I was afraid I'd lost you today. I won't let that happen."
From that moment, Tate watched Emily's transformation. Emily studied everything she was told, practiced every move they were taught, and pushed herself physically and mentally to prepare for their new life. She seemed almost comfortable, certainly unflappable, in battle.
Tate felt less sure. Instead, she focused on her piloting skills, something that held value but didn't require direct combat or killing. She reaffirmed her goal to keep herself and Emily safe until the combatants moved out of the sector. Then they would be able to find some place to live in peace. But first, they had to survive. And while Tate was happy to keep a low profile, Emily took a different tack.
In every port of call, Emily questioned the locals, searching for information about the mysterious Crief Ul, head of the Galactic Enterprises Group, the syndicate overseeing the privateers. His massive mining and harvesting operations stripped everything a planet capable of life could produce—all to supply the armies doing battle. Emily told anyone who would listen that she was convinced he was the key to ending the war. If it weren't for him, she said, both sides would be forced to negotiate. They were too busy fighting each other to coordinate such a vast supply line. "Lop off the head and the snake dies," Emily often said.
As the years passed, Tate honed her flying skills while Emily rose through the command ranks. While serving as first mate, Emily led a mission that captured a ship, so she was awarded it and allowed to choose her own crew. For the first time, Tate felt a disconnect between them as she watched Emily fill positions without naming her. Was it possible Emily would want a life without her?
Sulking in the upper bunk instead of lying with Emily, Tate felt a poke from below.
"What's going on?" Emily asked.
"Nothing."
Tate felt a strong kick through the mattress. She sighed. "You haven't picked me," she said, near tears.
"So that's it."
Tate leaned over the edge to look at Emily. "Don't you want me?"
"Of course I do. Plus, you're the best pilot around. But . . ." Emily paused and let out a sigh. "Don't you want your own ship?"
"No."
Emily looked puzzled, her expression an unasked question. "I don't know, T. My priority is to protect the crew. I wouldn't be able to put you above the others. And you couldn't—"
"I know," Tate said, relief flowing through her. "I'll make sure we don't have to."
With that settled and Tate assigned to helm and first mate, together they outfitted the ship, doubling its weapons capacity and clearing storage space for the supplies they'd haul in. A small cruiser, its nimbl
eness made up for its lack of speed and armor. Emily christened it the Sea Devil, garnering odd looks from her fellow pirates. Tate smiled.
With a small band of fighters, the Sea Devil patrolled a narrow shipping lane between an asteroid belt and a dense lithic debris field too hazardous for travel. It didn't take long for Captain Emily Hart to make a name for herself, using methods that confounded her enemies. If she needed a ship, Emily would release the captured crew and their cargo on a planet, leaving an emergency beacon with them to ensure rescue. If it was the freight she wanted—food, clothing, or weapons—she'd simply leave them with an empty vessel and no lives lost. As her reputation grew, some shipments were surrendered with little resistance, as the privateers saw no reason to risk life or limb for a few supplies. They also knew she would treat them well, so many defected and told tales of Crief Ul's brutal micromanagement. More than one crew had been executed for nondelivery, and rumors flew of dissention in Ul's ranks but that no one dared confront him. Many warned her that to Ul, lost shipments meant lost payment, so Captain Hart was wanted.
Slipping into her seat at the helm, Tate forced herself to focus on the present. The space train was approaching. Gunner was already seated to her left and running down his weapons checklist. Behind them, Emily sat in the captain's chair, the first mate's seat empty beside her. On Tate's other side, Collins, the engineer, ran through his own checklist. "Run silent," Emily commanded.
Tate flipped switches and the lights dimmed. All systems except life support and weapons went idle. The only light glowed from the command and control consoles before them. There would be no communication, no engines, not even food prep in the galley. Any energy signals the ship generated would be masked by background noise. They hunkered behind an asteroid.
This appeared to be an easy mission. Tate checked the sensor readout that identified the approaching ship as a long row of freight containers pulled by an unarmed, unescorted command module. This is too easy, she thought. Convoys had started adding security escorts. She sensed a trap, but all she could do was wait for a visual verification. As the ship came into view, she did a double-take out the window then back at her sensor readout. What she read didn't describe the large, fully armed, and armored battle cruiser she saw. Tate banged her fist on the console. "The signal's a fake," she said, furious. "Hold position," Emily ordered. "Let's hope he doesn't notice us and moves on."
The battleship passed close enough that Tate could see a logo: GEG. Galactic Enterprises Group. The Sea Devil was dwarfed by comparison. "We'd fit on that one's bridge," she muttered. When it stopped, she felt sick to her stomach and quickly plotted an escape route, however improbable. Emily answered the ship's hail. The screen flickered on. A thin man scowled at her, his eyes dark and narrowed. "Captain Hart, I presume," he said, his polite greeting belied by his expression.
"To whom do I have the displeasure," Emily replied, leaning forward in her seat.
He smiled. "I see you're as charming in person as your legend."
"We mean you no harm," Emily said.
The man's smile faded. "I seriously doubt that. You've been asking a lot of questions, Captain, and you've cost me a lot of treasure."
Tate felt a chill pass through her as she sensed just who it was Emily was speaking with.
"A simple misunderstanding," Emily replied. "I'm sure we can come to some equitable terms."
He chuckled, then grew serious. "It's a little too late for that, Hart. Besides, you don't have a lot of credibility with me."
Emily smiled. "Perhaps you'd like to come aboard so we can discuss this. I have a very nice Terisian wine I can offer you."
He laughed again. "Oh, really? Mine, no doubt." He leaned back in his chair and relaxed. "I prefer to play host. You may bring the wine, of course."
"Very well," Emily said. "Give me an hour to prepare."
"An hour? My dear, you look fine as you are."
"Nevertheless . . ." Emily cut the comm signal, exhaled a long breath, and leaned back in her chair. She turned to her first mate. "Is that who I think it is?"
"Could be," Tate said. "He's faked his flag signal. But I think that's Ul."
"Now what?"
Tate checked her sensors. "He hasn't powered up weapons. I think he's giving you the hour." She moved to the seat next to Emily's and watched her type out a coded distress call.
"I need options, people," Emily said. Collins and Gunner turned in their seats to face her.
"We don't really have any," Tate said. "We can make a break for it, but we can't outrun him."
"What about the debris field?"
"No one's made it through alive," Collins said. "Remember the Orion?
We're a much smaller ship and we have no armor."
"Think help can get here in an hour?"
Tate shook her head. "Doubtful."
Emily let out a nervous chuckle. "That's what I like about you guys, you don't pull punches."
Tate reached for her hand.
Emily took a deep breath. "I guess I'll just have to see what he wants.
It's likely me." She smiled wanly. "Might be time for you to take command, Mate."
Tate shook her head. "I can't let you go over there, Captain."
"You will if I order it."
"Absolutely not."
"Think of the crew, T. I'm not worth losing them all. Losing you."
Collins and Gunner shifted nervously. No, Tate didn't want any harm to come to them. She remained silent.
Emily ran her hand through her hair. "What if we evacuate the ship? Think he'd let the crew go?"
Gunner cleared his throat. "The pods are defenseless," he said. "From what I've heard, he'd enjoy picking them off ."
"What if they held a surprise and not the crew?"
Tate looked at her. "A diversion?"
Emily nodded then ordered Gunner to fill the pods with explosives. She turned back to Tate. "If we made a break for it, how soon could he catch up?" Tate made a mental calculation. "He'd need time to get to full power. Maybe an hour. But he will, you know."
"I know." Emily typed on her console. "We'll wait as long as we can, then head for these coordinates on my mark. Full speed."
Tate glanced at the setting then went to her seat at the helm, plotted a route, and locked it in. A tense silence filled the bridge as they waited for most of the hour to pass and for Gunner to finish with the pods. She jumped when his voice crackled over the comm. "Ready, Captain."
Emily gave the order and in a whoosh, four lifepods shot across their view.
"Engage engines."
Tate opened the throttle, and the Sea Devil sprang away from the battle cruiser. As it shrank in her aft view screen she saw the pods explode in fiery clouds, masking their escape. She asked Collins for more power and heard back the usual complaint, "I'm giving you all she's got, sir!"
"Shut down auxiliary systems," Tate ordered. "Aye, sir."
As the distance between the Sea Devil and Ul grew, Tate relaxed, just a hair.
Gunner returned to the bridge. "Shall I prepare for battle?" he asked. "No," Emily said. "We're going to evacuate."
Tate turned to her, eyes wide. "We just jettisoned the lifepods. You realize that, right?"
"Look again at the coordinates I gave you."
Tate did, then shook her head. "The refugee planet?"
"What better place to hide?"
Tate fingered the scar on her forearm. The crew were all former refugees. They still had their chips. "But when Ul catches up to an empty ship, he'd only have to search nearby planets," she said. "We'd jeopardize everyone down there."
"We won't leave an empty ship. He'll find only debris. It will look like our engines blew."
Another chill passed through Tate. It was a risky move. She marveled at how calmly Emily left the bridge to prepare her crew. Ignoring the adrenaline speeding her heart rate, Tate moved through the checklist to log the crew for transport.
Emily returned to her seat in silence. Neither spoke u
ntil Tate announced they were in range.
"Secure stations," Emily called to the crew. "Stand by for transport."
Tate made a final check of the log. Her breath caught. "Em," she said, forgoing formality. "You took yourself off the list. Why?"
Emily's voice was steady. "Like you said, we can't risk him tracing the crew to the planet. If I stay behind, he won't care who gets away."
"Em, no." Tate stood, stepping back from the helm, shaking. "It's me he wants. The rest of you will be safe."
"Captain, no—" Gunner started to protest, but Emily silenced him with a raised hand.
Tate understood the logic of Emily's decision, but her heart pounded and a tingle rippled from her scalp to her knees. "I won't let you."
"That's an order, Mate." Emily went to Tate and met her gaze, her eyes wet but her expression determined. "We knew this could happen. We don't have a choice. It's time for us to part ways."
Tate could barely breathe. Emily kissed her then stepped back. "Now, T, quick. Get it over with."
Tate leaned against the console and pushed the button, her hand shaking. A blinding flash filled the bridge. When she could see again, she found Emily staring at her.
"Why are you still here?" Emily asked. She spun around, but they were alone. Gunner and Collins had vanished, their clothes draped across their seats. "What went wrong?"
Tate shook her head. "Nothing went wrong."
Emily's eyes widened. "Damn it, Tate!" She exploded in fury and pushed Tate against the bulkhead. "What have you done?"
"You didn't really think I'd leave you."
Emily pressed her forearm across Tate's throat, pinning her. Her eyes burned. "You could have saved lives." Her voice was filled with disgust. Tate struggled to breathe against the pressure of Emily's arm. "Don't you get it, Em? I can't do this without you."
"You don't know that." Emily's voice rose in anger. "You never tried!"
"I never wanted this life. I only wanted to be with you."
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