by Scott Baron
The captain walked out of the cell, an amused grin on his face.
“Wait!”
The captain turned, eyebrow raised questioningly.
“I’m sorry, sir. No disrespect intended. I was just wondering, if I’m to fix the other toilets, could you at least have the others clean them first? It would make the job much easier. Uh, and faster, I’m sure.”
Captain Saramin looked at Marban and laughed. An inside joke, apparently.
“Why not?” he said, thoroughly amused. “Though I’ll say this, it won’t make you any friends.”
He then nodded to Marban and walked away.
“Okay, what do you need to do your work?” the pirate asked.
Charlie told him what would be useful in effecting the repairs, now that he had a basic understanding of how the system worked. He also made a point to request some oil or grease to make the mechanisms move smoother as well. With that, he felt he could do as the captain asked.
“I’ll get what you need,” Marban said. “You’ll start in the morning. San ovusk.”
With his translator off once more, Charlie lay back on his bunk and pondered his new situation. He was still a captive and in a world of shit. Only this time, it was literal.
Chapter Forty-Two
For the better part of a week, Charlie spent his daytime hours wrist––and sometimes elbow––deep in all manner of foulness as he toiled over the broken toilet mechanisms plaguing the ship. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but his own personal commode was just a much smaller symptom of a far larger problem.
With the system unable to properly close and seal, the pirate craft was forced to haul around the waste of the entire crew until they entered the atmosphere of a planet with breathable air. Only then could they open the purge and dump the accumulated mess, likely to the great horror of any unfortunate enough to be located beneath them.
To attempt the maneuver in space with so many toilets stuck open would have killed most of the crew from rapid decompression.
Charlie had asked how it was that they could form a force field over holes in a hull, but couldn’t seal off a simple toilet. The answer made his head spin a little. Apparently, when the ship was built, it had a robust ‘magic’ design powering all systems. The residual ‘magic’ ensured toilets stayed unobstructed from the bowl all the way to what had been intended as a temporary holding tank.
Of course, now that tank was regularly put to far more use than it had been designed for.
The cells he worked in constituted a good sixty percent of those on the ship, though at least there were several of them that were a quick fix. Others, however, required far more work.
The prisoners had been required to clean their toilets prior to his working on them, as he had requested. Some complied without complaint, but others were decidedly annoyed by the disgusting task. All knew who was to blame.
They would do it, of course. To not would incur the captain’s wrath. But once Marban had inspected the unit to ensure it was ready for Charlie to work on, several of them made a point to leave a smeared and still-warm greeting for him on every surface they could reach.
Charlie could have complained, and Marban would certainly have made an example of the men responsible, but he felt it was far wiser to simply get the job done and get on with his life. And once their toilets all functioned perfectly, who knew? Maybe those upset by the inconvenient cleanup job would come around and even be thankful.
Or at least not hold too much of a grudge.
He hoped.
The week had been grueling, but another benefit Charlie had reaped from his new job was a bit of special treatment from Marban. A few days into the project, Charlie had impressed him with the progress he had been making, and that night Marban sat with him during dinner and activated his translator. None of the other prisoners received that treatment. Charlie, however, had piqued the pirate’s curiosity.
“Okay, you’ve got to tell me. How did you know how to open the panel? Only a select few know repair spells, and even fewer can wield them without a slaap or konus, but you’re unpowered.”
“I don’t know about slaaps, or konuses, or spells,” he had replied. “I’m just using my engineering experience and applying it to a new type of technology, is all.”
“What is ‘technology?’”
“It’s the mechanical processes by which things function. In your case, voice-activated devices woven into your society’s daily life.”
“Magic, you mean. Power.”
“Well, you call it that, but that’s got to be a translator glitch. It probably actually translates to wireless power or something,” Charlie replied. “Regardless, once I figure out the underlying principles of the system, from there, it’s just backtracking the mechanism until I find the fault.”
Marban studied the unusual human with great curiosity as they ate. It was almost a friendly meal between equals, rather than guard and prisoner. And then there was the fact that Marban had been one of the men who had captured him, though truth be told, he didn’t really hold it against the pirate. Sure, it wasn’t pleasant, but it was the life they knew, and for a pirate, he seemed to be a decent sort.
Somewhat surprisingly, they wound up chatting about things other than waste disposal repairs as well as they finished their meals. Charlie’s homeworld, the mechanical issues with the Rixana, how the crew was replenished from captured vessels.
“Rather like the Roman Legion,” Charlie said.
“The what?”
“A great army from my world, thousands of years ago. They spread far and wide, amassing an enormous fighting force. But the thing was, when they would vanquish an opponent, rather than kill or imprison their men, they offered them the option of joining their ranks as legionnaires.”
“It makes sense,” Marban said. “It is a waste of manpower to constantly execute prisoners.”
“Exactly. So in a sense, your operation here is sort of similar to the Romans. I mean, it’s different, obviously. For one, you’re space pirates. But the general idea is the same.”
They shared a few more tales, and Charlie actually found the company improved the taste of his food. It had been a long time since he’d simply talked with someone. Tuktuk was a friend, no doubt, but their stilted discussions had been cut rather short by his impromptu escape.
“Come,” Marban said at the end of their meal. “Drop off your tray and follow me.”
Charlie obliged, following the man through the ship until they reached a familiar chamber. The communal showers. Only, at this time of night, they were empty.
“You’ve worked well and hard. Others would have complained the entire time, but you just put your head down and got the work done. The captain may not always show it, but he appreciates your efforts. Go ahead and get cleaned up. You have the facility to yourself. I’ll see if I can procure a set of clean clothes in your size from one of the dead’s belongings. That way you can rinse the day’s clothing as you bathe and start the next day fresh while the damp ones dry.”
“Thank you, Marban, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say? There is nothing to say. You have performed well, and on the Rixana, those who carry their weight are rewarded.”
The scarred pirate then left him to bathe in peace.
As the warm water flowed over his body, washing clean the past several days' grime and smell, Charlie found himself almost feeling content. He knew it was just the relaxing heat loosening his tense muscles and steam flushing out his poor sinuses, but for a moment at least, he allowed himself to feel at peace.
But soon enough, he knew with certainty, things would undoubtedly shift. For now, however, for the first time in too long, he soaked in the heat and felt, well, human.
Chapter Forty-Three
A week had passed since the completion of the toilet system repair job, and Charlie was back to the daily grind of prisoner life. Their ship did capture and board a smaller vessel, so at least he got to head out and see somet
hing other than the walls of his cell. Better yet, that particular action had been bloodless.
Apparently, Captain Saramin wasn’t as bloodthirsty as he led people to believe, though he’d kill you if you suggested it. However, Marban had been activating his translator at mealtime somewhat regularly now, and during one of those conversations had mentioned that a lot of the time the captain would essentially play chess with his prey. Once he positioned them for checkmate, he would offer them the opportunity to surrender without needlessly causing the deaths of their crew.
Alive and captive was still better than free but dead, he argued.
Quite often, that point was persuasive enough.
So Charlie lugged pillaged supplies while the captain sorted through the crew, selecting those he would take, but leaving the weaker ones to go their way. After he had taken everything of value, that is.
That evening as they ate, Charlie asked Marban why he didn’t take the ship as well.
“Goods are easily moved, but stolen ships are really hard to sell in most systems. Plus, we would have to make landfall in this system to release the crew the captain didn’t want to take on board.”
“So why not do that?”
“Because we survive by doing what we do and not drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves. In space, we are masters of our realm, and able to simply jump to another system if a fight we don’t want shows up at our doorstep.”
“But I’ve seen you guys in action. I can’t see you backing down.”
The scarred pirate laughed. “Oh, believe me, there are some we have no desire to fight. Council ships, for example. We could take on several at a time, no doubt, but if we did, we’d have the rest on our tail so bad we’d have to flee to the most distant systems for any peace. Nope, we have a good thing, so the captain doesn’t push his luck.”
“I suppose there’s logic in that,” Charlie replied. “But what are council ships?”
A brief look of worry flashed across the pirate’s face. “The Council of Twenty. The group of systems and their representative warlords, all powerful vislas, far more power-hungry than any regular men. They control the systems. They dictate the laws. Collect taxes. Guide and control both business and war. To run afoul of the Council is to see your life expectancy shorten by a good margin, no matter who you are.”
“Fascinating.”
Marban hastily jumped to his feet as the captain entered the galley. For a pirate, he seemed to have a thing for military protocols that made Charlie wonder what his prior history might actually be.
“Captain,” the men greeted in unison.
“Marban. Charlie,” he replied. “I see you’ve spent power on translation spells for our friend here,” he noted.
“I’m sorry, sir. I just thought it could be useful to understand how he managed such an unusual repair feat. I’ll deactivate it at once.”
“No, that’s fine, leave it. I was actually coming to do the same myself. Plus, one other thing,” he said, pulling a small bandolier strap with a pair of pouches on it and dropping it on the table. Prisoners took note, especially the ones with the most seniority.
Marban’s eyes widened. “Already?”
“Our numbers have thinned in recent engagements. And besides, now that we no longer have to make planetfall to empty our waste system, I think Charlie’s earned it, don’t you?”
“I do, sir,” Marban agreed, a hint of a smile on the corners of his lips.
“Then there it is. Congratulations, Charlie. You are no longer a mere laborer. You’ve earned yourself a higher position aboard my ship.”
Charlie picked up the bandolier and studied it. Others had far more pouches on theirs, but he figured that likely came with experience and seniority. A small knife and a short sword were clunked down on the table as well.
“You’ve been promoted to the lowest of the low among my men. But that’s a world better than being a toilet-scrubbing prisoner, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’m sure it is, Captain,” Charlie replied, still a bit unsure what had just happened.
“Marban will go over the fine points of your new position with you, but in my book there is just one true rule. Fight or die. If you are caught hiding or running from the face of the enemy, I’ll end you myself, is that clear?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Good. Marban, you fill him in on the rest,” he said, then walked out of the galley.
Once the captain had cleared the doorway Charlie spun back to his unlikely friend.
“What just happened, Marban?”
“Well, little brother, you have just joined the illustrious ranks of the crew of the Rixana,” he said, flashing him a jolly smile.
“I’m a pirate now?”
“That you are.”
Charlie picked up the short sword from the table. It was lighter than he expected, but seemed deadly enough. He looked over the weapon and noticed the fine rune work etched into the pommel.
“Ah, you’ve already noticed the gallen, I see.”
“The what?”
“Gallen. It’s a specific spell worked into the material of the weapon itself. They’re used to prevent a fallen man’s gear from being captured and used against his own comrades. Here, I’ll show you,” the scarred man said. “Try to strike me with your sword.”
His hands were empty. Marban had no means of defending himself.
“No, that’s okay,” Charlie said.
“Oh, don’t be a baby. Just take a little swing,” the pirate urged.
“Fine,” he relented, halfheartedly attempting to swat the larger man with the flat edge of the sword.
Marban didn’t move an inch, nor did he utter a word, but when the sword came within a few inches of his body, Charlie felt a blast of energy discharge into his arm, throwing him back several feet into the wall.
“Oops, I didn’t think this one was that strong,” Marban said as he helped Charlie to his feet. “Sorry about that.”
“Fuck. You could have warned me.”
“Yes, but that isn’t the point of the lesson.”
“Which is what? Don’t hit your own team? I think I could’ve figured that out without the shock, thank you very much.”
“No, it’s much more than that, Charlie,” he said. “Look, I like you, so I don’t want you to die our first time out if you suddenly decide to do something stupid like run and fight your own comrades.”
Must’ve been reading my mind, Charlie mused. He had, in fact, wondered if now with weapons and a bit more freedom, he might manage to effect an escape.
“The thing is, we’re just playing around, and the gallen recognizes your intent. If you had swung with the aim to kill me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
“Hang on. You’re saying whatever I try to do to my own ‘team’ this thing will do to me instead?”
“Not quite like that, but if you were to try to harm one of us in any serious way, then yes, you would be struck dead.”
Charlie dropped the sword to the table, rubbing his sore hand. “I’m not so sure I’m cut out for this.”
“None of us were our first day. Well, almost none of us. A few had other, uh, experience that prepared us for this sort of life.”
“And what was your experience, Marban? Who were you before all of this?”
The scarred man’s smile faltered just an instant, but Charlie noted the brief look in the man’s eye. There was a story there all right, but tonight was not the night he would hear it.
“Plenty of time for tales of adventure later,” he finally answered. “Anyway, rest up. The captain’s been tracking a cargo transport and thinks we may be able to approach and disable them before they can jump away.”
“Jump away? That’s an option?”
“If their Drooks are well trained and powerful enough, yes. It doesn’t happen often, but we’ve lost our prey a few times when their Drooks surprised us. Now the captain tries to hit them with a disrupting spell as soon as we make contact. It d
oesn’t knock them out, but it plays merry havoc with their powers for a minute or two. More than enough time for our men to board,” he said. “You’ll see. But now, rest. Tomorrow the fun begins.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Charlie had begun his first day as a space pirate desperately dodging the frantic swings of a young man with a long knife. It took every bit of his attention and energy to avoid being sliced open by the dangerous-looking blade.
This is what he calls fun? he silently grumbled as he parried yet another assault with a piece of debris, then landed a hard right on the point of the man’s chin. He crumpled to the deck, unconscious.
They had managed to board the ship in pretty much the manner Marban had laid out. The captain flashed in quick and ‘cast a spell,’ which to Charlie meant he activated a voice-triggered EMP or some such device that kept the other ship from jumping away. With its drives incapacitated, the pirate crew quickly breached the hull from several points and swarmed into the ship.
Charlie saw several other men, who had also been prisoners until recently, join in the fray. He wasn’t the only one newly promoted, it seemed.
One of them sprayed blood from his mouth as a long sword pierced his torso. It appeared their numbers would need to be added to again, shortly, and he had no intention of his own space needing to be filled.
He recalled the captain’s warning––fight or die––as he followed the others deeper into the vessel.
Well, he didn’t say kill or die, he thought, looking for some wiggle room. Charlie had no desire to take anyone’s life, and if he could avoid it, he certainly would do whatever it took.
Fighting was heavy around him, but he kept his weapons secured, instead relying on his old martial arts close-quarters combat training from so many years ago. He hadn’t practiced in what seemed like forever, but the basic moves were still there, and apparently were a style of fighting the crew of the boarded ship were not accustomed to.