by Leslie Chase
But at least they’d know I’d left rather than thinking I was dead. That was something. I set the message to deliver in a few hours and headed for the dock, my small bag feeling pathetically light as I pushed through the crowd of aliens and humans towards the gate for the Jester’s Last Laugh.
I don’t know what gave them away. Some sixth sense I didn’t know I had, or just luck? But as I reached the gate, something made me look over my shoulder. And there he was. One of the Antaran gangsters from earlier, looking right at me. My blood froze and I almost ran again, sprinting out of the spaceport and off into the alleys of Los Angeles again.
But where would I go? I had nowhere else. Even if, somehow, I lost them again, it was only a matter of time until they caught up. There was only one route to safety: space.
Saying a silent goodbye to Earth, wondering if I’d ever be able to return, I stepped through the airlock and into the ship which would take me to my appointment in the stars.
2
Arrax
The smoky purple swirls of the Kadran nebula hung behind us like a curtain as we waited for our prey to appear. Running dark, the Atreon’s Revenge was a cold and chilly place — the reactors running just hot enough to respond quickly when the time came.
That meant no air circulation. No heating. No gravity. My crew, those who hadn’t tethered themselves to their station, floated idly in the confined space of the boarding pod.
It had become a game to us. How long can you float before brushing against a wall or hitting someone? The first time I’d tried it, I’d slammed into something every few seconds. Now I hung motionless in the air, and would for hours if need be. We’d all had plenty of practice, and my anger at the cartel kept me fresh and ready. I’d wait for as long as it took for a chance at one of their ships.
This time our target was a mystery, a ship not in our databases. It didn’t belong in Kadran space, and yet here it was, inbound to Atreon station. Why? Who would want to travel there now? We’d intercepted a transmission from the Jester’s Last Laugh claiming they were on a passenger run, but that made no sense. What kind of passenger would want to visit Atreon, of all the cursed places in the universe?
My hands closed into tight fists, a tremor running through me and sending me drifting towards the wall.
I corrected before I got too close, forcing myself to relax. A few eyes glanced over, then looked away when it was clear I’d avoid a collision.
“You need to find yourself a woman,” Doctor Jorn said, his voice a whisper from the drone perched on my shoulder. I almost smiled; he still hadn’t given up on that idea. Every time we got ready for combat he’d offer the same advice, and every time I’d tell him the same thing. It had become our little ritual, as formalized as the xil pilots feeding their fighters a drop of blood before launch.
“Not until I’m finished with the cartel,” I answered as I always did. “What kind of man would I be, bringing a female I cared for into this life?”
“You don’t have to care for her,” Jorn said. “Just fuck her and get some anger out of your system.”
I snorted. “Crude as well as ridiculous. Maybe you should follow your own advice, Doctor.”
“I do alright, Captain. It’s you I’m worried about.”
Around me the other boarders performed their own little rituals, getting ready for the fight to come. Superstition, but I wasn’t about to deny any of my men the comfort of it when they might be dead in an hour. Some checked and rechecked their gear, others prayed to one of a dozen gods.
Zarr, the leader of the second boarding crew, floated next to me, perfectly still. The competition to avoid the walls had been friendly until he came aboard, but the intensity of his focus made it anything but. He made it a challenge to my authority, a chance to show me up. The rest of the crew watched us both, looking for signs of weakness.
They wouldn’t see any from me.
“Captain.” Raxa’s voice, calling from the bridge. She watched the half-blind sensors, guessing what the readings meant. Passive sensors only picked up what other ships put out, but in return they were impossible to detect. “I see our prize. Jester’s Last Laugh dropped out of hyperspace right on target.”
The hunger in her tone was hard to miss, and around me the crew began to move. We all ached for a prize rich enough to pay a fat bonus as well as the repairs the Revenge so badly needed.
My pulse quickened and I came fully alert. Zarr stretched, kicking lazily off the wall and drifting to the boarding hatch, hands flicking from weapon to weapon on his harness. Unlike some of us, he’d chosen the pirate life and it showed in his armory.
“Power up,” I ordered, and the Atreon’s Revenge thrummed as the engines came up to speed. Lights brightened, gravity pulled us to the deck, sensors lit up. “Vissa, Trin, you’re up. Launch.”
“Aye Captain,” Vissa said, her voice hungry and eager. Trin grunted something wordless, and then our two xil fighters were away, kicked out into space with the full force of our gravity cannons. The Revenge leaped forward too, slowly in comparison but far faster than our target.
Around me, the crew readied themselves for a boarding action. Zarr checked his men and I checked mine, looking for any flaws. Every man should have taken care of his own gear, but I’d seen what happened when an officer didn’t double check and I had no intention of making that mistake.
Seeing one pirate gasping for breath when his oxygen field failed mid-raid was enough for me. I’d never forget that man’s face, twisting and darkening as he scrabbled helplessly at his controls. His eyes bulged and he’d begged me to save him, and even though he’d been my enemy I still sometimes wished I had.
Death from suit failure was something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
Once I’d finished checking my team, I turned to Zarr and we checked each other’s suits. His eyes narrowed just a touch as he looked at my field projector. One little error on my part and he’d be rid of me, able to make a play for the captaincy without any whispers of ‘mutineer’ following him for the rest of his life.
A single mistake on his part and I wouldn’t have to worry about a knife in my back. Zarr had been cautious, though. His field webbing wrapped him perfectly, his recycler carried a full charge, every connection was firm. No danger of losing him to an accident today.
He checked my equipment as thoroughly and stepped back, nodding confirmation.
As I turned to look at the sensors, Zarr rechecked his equipment. A smile tugged at my lips. I’d make sure he hadn’t tampered with mine before we opened the airlock too.
He didn’t have anything to worry about from me — a captain who murdered his crew wouldn’t last long. Unfortunately, Zarr didn’t seem to understand that, which made him dangerous. As skilled a pirate as he was, he’d make a terrible captain if he ever managed to claw his way into a command.
My shoulder drone projected a hologram of the view screen in front of my eyes and I watched our fighters bear down on the merchant ship. Energy beams shot out from the Jester’s turrets, powerful enough to do serious damage to the Revenge if we got too close. Warning shots, we were still out of range, but a smart merchant captain would rather have pirates back off than win a fight.
All he had to do was make the Jester look too dangerous to fight, hold us off long enough to calculate another hyperspace entry, and he’d be free and safe. I wondered how many times he’d made that work. Was he sitting on his bridge, comfortable and confident, having survived this a dozen times? Or was he trying to hide his fear and praying we’d let him go?
Either way, this time it wouldn’t work.
“Engaging.” Vissa’s voice hissed over the communicator, a single short word that carried a primal hunger. The two fighters raced closer, dancing in complicated spirals as the Jester’s turrets hunted them. Crimson beams of energy sliced through the midnight black, but the two xil pilots were faster and the beams carved through where they had been, never where they were.
We’d had a third f
ighter, once. Cabbor hadn’t been as fast as Vissa or Trin, though, or maybe just not as lucky. A single glancing hit from a beam like these had torn his fighter into molten shards of metal, and now we only had two.
I bared my teeth, hunger showing, hands clenching tight behind my back out of the crew’s sight. The fighters wove closer, closer, avoiding the beams by less and less until finally they were in range.
Pulses of green light flickered out, striking the turrets perfectly and silencing them. My fists relaxed as the pair of fighters shot past the Jester, turning and coming around to cover in case there were more threats.
No. The captain had shown his entire hand in an effort to frighten us off. Now it was down to the boarding parties, and what resistance the Jester’s crew had to offer us.
“Ready,” I said. A chorus of agreement — everyone gathered in the boarding pod was there for a reason. Zarr flashed me a grin and a salute, getting his troops ready for action.
“Remember the rules,” I said. “We’re here for the cargo, we’re here to hurt the Cartel. Not to kill and pillage the crew. Spare those who surrender, don’t hurt anyone more than you need to.”
Another ragged chorus, less enthusiastic. I noted who cheered least. Those who’d been with me longest were with me, some of them had been on the other side of these raids and empathized with the Jester’s crew. Some of the newer recruits were quieter. Zarr barely muttered his agreement, eyes cold and narrow, sharp teeth bared.
Good enough. He might not want to obey, but he didn’t have the support to oppose me outright. That day might be coming, though. I’d seen that hunger, that killing lust, before. Felt it too. Zarr wanted this command, and he longed for a raid where he didn’t feel hemmed in by my rules.
If we did things his way, there’d be no survivors on the Jester once we were done.
“Boarders away,” I said into the communicator, and the pod doors exploded outward, gravity beams flinging us all into the void of space. Our shields held the air around us, kept the deadly cold of space from our bodies, and we shot across the emptiness of space toward the Jester.
The nebula floated behind it, a beautiful and calming backdrop. I breathed out my anger and rage, taking in the serenity of the moment, bathing in the peaceful light of distant stars. For an all-too-brief moment, I relaxed and remembered what had brought me to space in the first place.
What the cartel had taken from me when they attacked Atreon.
My boots struck the Jester’s hull cleanly, magnets gripping and holding me in place. Emergency airlocks glowed with inviting lights, easy to find and open, but I ignored their siren call. Only an idiot would try to board a ship through those uninvited — the defenses would be strongest there.
Other boarders slammed into the hull around me as I placed the boarding charges in a neat circle. Zarr landed as cleanly as I had, taking his team aft towards the cargo holds and waiting. Others weren’t so skilled, hitting hard or at a bad angle. Jox bounced, his boots not catching, and would have spun off into the dark if Elisan hadn’t caught him and dragged him back.
Need to practice this more. I made a mental note, wondering when we’d get the chance, and triggered the explosives.
A gout of fire and air burst from the hull, streaming into space before the ship’s emergency fields caught it. They were strong enough to keep the air inside, but not to keep me out, and I swung aboard at the head of my men.
No pirate would follow a captain who wasn’t willing to be first into the breach.
My coat billowed behind me as the air currents caught it, and smoke filled the air. Red emergency lighting, klaxons blaring an alarm, the familiar sounds of a ship under attack. I roared a challenge as I strode towards the bridge, drawing sword and pistol.
A crude barricade blocked the corridor, flung together from furniture, and as I advanced someone fired from behind it. The laser bolt seared a black mark on the wall behind me, my return shot setting the barricade alight. The shooter swore, backing off and blazing away with unaimed shots, and I leaped through the flames and smoke. My sword swung in a sharp arc, the laser-blade biting into the crewman’s gun, and I punched him in the face.
Behind me, my boarders roared and charged. The crewmen manning the barricade took one look at us and fled, tumbling over each other in their haste to get away. I followed, not pressing to hard — let their panicked retreat announce my presence and spread fear ahead of me.
I burst onto the bridge, looking at the defiant circle of officers hiding behind the consoles. A better barricade than soft furnishings, that: I needed the ship’s systems intact if I wanted to take control of it.
On the other hand, they didn’t dare fire either. I needed the ship for profit — they needed it to get home. That meant no blasters or lasers on the bridge, this would be settled at close quarters if it came to a fight. With luck their captain would be smart, and we could avoid that.
“Yield,” I shouted, my voice filling the bridge as smoke from the burning barricade billowed around me. “Yield and you will all live, all go free. Or fight and risk your lives for a master who cares nothing for you. I’m here for your cargo, that’s all.”
Angry shouts, curses, defiant howls. No surrender. I sighed, disappointed. It was better for everyone when that worked.
I advanced, sword held high, blaster in my left hand ready in case someone was stupid enough to try shooting. My men fanned out behind me, laughing and calling out threats, their own melee weapons at the ready. And the bridge crew advanced to face us, raising their own weapons.
Their captain came first, a four-armed man with a blade in each hand. It looked intimidating, and I wondered if he knew how to fight that way — two weapons were hard enough to coordinate, let alone four. I’ll find out soon enough.
My drone launched from my shoulder, circling the room, letting me check for ambushers lying in wait. Only one member of the crew stayed behind.
No. Not a crewman. They all wore a red uniform, well matched and perfectly pressed. This one wore something entirely different, and the sight of her took my breath away. A short-sleeved top clung to her curves, some slogan I didn’t know printed in bold letters across the front. Her hair, long and red, framed a pale face, bright green eyes staring up at my circling drone as it watched her.
She was from no species I’d ever encountered. Whatever planet she called home, she was the most beautiful female I’d ever seen. I stared at the drone’s display, frozen as I looked at this vision of perfection. What the Blue Stars is she doing here?
That moment’s distraction nearly cost me my head as the Jester’s captain leaped forward to take advantage. His blade scythed towards my neck and I parried then thrust for his chest. He blocked with a knife, proving he did know how to use all those weapons at once.
The fight for the Jester’s Last Laugh had begun in earnest.
3
Marcie
I huddled behind the navigation console, peeking over it at the fight and wishing I could look away. Pirates? Ellarixa hadn’t warned me about pirates. Or perhaps she’d tried to tell me and I’d ignored her in my rush to get away into space.
It was a change from the boredom of spaceflight, but not one I relished. Our occasional dips out of hyperspace for navigation corrections had been the only excitement I’d had — every few days we had to drop into realspace to get our bearings, so Captain Falbad told me, and every time the stars were different. A mark of how far I’d come from home, and from the aliens hunting me.
This time the view had been even more spectacular. A band of crimson filled half the sky, like a smoke trail lit from within by stars. That had to mean we were close — whatever ‘close’ meant when we traveled lightyears each day in hyperspace.
Atreon was in the Kadran nebula, that much I knew from the briefing documents Ellarixa had sent me before I boarded the Jester’s Last Laugh. Somewhere in there, the asteroid mine that my mate managed waited for me.
And now there were pirates between me and him.
Just my damned luck, I ran away from mobsters and landed in the arms of pirates instead. The emergency klaxons had brought me to the bridge just in time for the boarders to breach the hull, and I huddled at the back waiting to find out what they had in mind for me.
I watched, transfixed, as the pirate captain entered the bridge. Smoke billowed out of the corridor behind him, framing his entrance. Not that he needed it — he cut an impressive figure, over seven-feet tall and broad-shouldered, his long black coat flowing behind him like a cape, a sword in one hand and blaster pistol in the other.
I stared. It was impossible not to. I’d never seen a more attractive man. His blue-skinned face, rugged and determined, was both handsome and frightening. His dark, close-cropped beard completed the look, and his eyes blazed with an intense inner fire. Down, girl, I thought. He’s a pirate, and he’s here to kill or enslave us all. Don’t start to like him just because of his good looks.
Swallowing nervously, I tore my eyes away from him. Other pirates followed him, spreading out to face the Jester’s crew, but none of them drew my gaze like their leader. There was something familiar about him, but I told myself that was impossible. I didn’t know any aliens aside from the Jester’s crew and Ellarixa.
He glared around the bridge, snarling a warning, his deep and powerful voice echoing through the room. My translator implant let me follow what he said, and I sighed a breath of relief. At least he didn’t plan to kill us all.
Or maybe it’s a trick. Maybe he wants us to surrender and make us easier to murder? Trusting a pirate seemed like a terrible idea. The crew muttered and cursed, and I heard the word ‘slave’ repeated a few times. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry, and wondered if being captured might be worse than dying.