Rosa moved. She crossed the short intersection and went into a slide, her hand reaching for Jameson’s handgun as she dove forward. But she wasn’t fast enough, even with the debris and cacophony of the exploding ship, and Don Schaeder pointed his weapon at Rosa before she could aim—
Then, he staggered back, clothes and flesh and blood flying from his shoulder. “Gwendolyn,” Don Schaeder snarled. Rosa caught Goose in the corner of her eye, ducking for cover after taking the shot. His wound bled like a waterfall and he sank to one knee. When he tried standing again, his leg gave out, and he landed on his back.
Rosa stood above him, gun pointed at his head, looking him right in his robot eye.
“A lot like your old man. Watching ‘em squirm,” Don Schaeder growled. “You made a mistake, though.”
“You will not belittle me. Ever again—”
“Turn around, kid.”
Rosa didn’t trust him as far as she could chuck his stupid robot eye. But Don Schaeder gave her the same semi-gentle smile he’d used on her for all these years, and she glanced to her right. The crewman she didn’t recognize still had his weapon. Jack Hurwitz was standing, cradling his bloody head with both hands, and the crewman stood behind him, gun to his back.
“Looks to me like you’ve got a choice,” Don Schaeder said. “Your old man or the treasure?”
“You planned this.”
“Don’t look at me! It was all you. And it wasn’t a bad plan. I’m not even mad, except for...that,” he said, pointing limply at his burning ship. “You made me proud, Rosa. You’re a bona-fide pirate’s daughter.”
Civilians hovered around the intersection. Most of them were looking up, pointing and screaming and taking photos. Sirens wailed in the distance.
She had to make a choice, like it or not.
“I want Jack,” Rosa said. “I want him. And the treasure. And I never want to see your face again.”
“You sure you won’t kill me? You won’t get this chance again.”
Don Schaeder searched her face for any weakness, any crack in a facade of bravery.
Rosa was damn sure he wouldn’t find anything.
Don Schaeder signaled to his crewman. The other pirate lowered his weapon. Goose approached Jack and the crewman, her gun aimed but shaking. The crewman backed away from Jack and the boy stood for a moment before falling. Goose was there to catch him before he hit the ground.
The shuttlecraft lifted into the air behind Schaeder and his remaining ally. Once it was directly overhead, a green light shone on the two men, and when it vanished, so did they.
The ship took off for parts unknown.
Rosa had let him live. She thought about that for a minute.
The infamous Don Schaeder, retreating as he bled, without his treasure and without most of his crew, disgraced and defeated by the girl he kidnapped. A killer would have done him in.
Rosa liked her way better.
Jack Hurwitz’s parents almost killed him. Their Infinity had been crushed under parts of the ship that had exploded over Beaton, Colorado. Their backyard and tool shed were left looking like imitations of the Grand Canyon. And to add to that, Jack would never see again out of his right eye.
He had to wear bandages for his first few weeks out of the hospital and then the doctors had him in an eyepatch until they were ready to operate. If his afternoons at home had been boring and lonely before, now he was a full-blown untouchable. Was he even going to go to community college anymore? It was a realistic question.
And did any of that really matter, when he knew about alternate dimensions and pirates and girls with chubby cheeks and guns?
Jack doubted that he would ever see Rosa again. But he hoped. And waited.
And on one autumn afternoon, months later, as a one-eyed Jack sat in the backyard counting the seconds, a purple cruiser materialized above the backyard crater. Jack finished his drink first this time.
The ship landed in the crater and the cargo doors opened. Rosa hadn’t changed a bit: her clothes were still ratty and full of holes, and she still had those stubby legs. She walked down the landing ramp and stared at him, her expression suggesting that she was waiting. Calculating.
“Question,” Jack asked.
“Ask it.”
“You’re not gonna pull out a gun and shoot me, are you? You guys do that a lot.”
Rosa looked away. “I need to give you something.”
“Is it a bullet?”
Rosa held out her hand. In it was the treasure, shining like the sun.
“It’s yours,” Jack said. “We had a deal. You saved the world, you keep the treasure. Just don’t destroy it, right?
“That’s all okay,” Rosa said. She bit her lip, tilted her head. “But it turns out, you need more than two people to run a ship. And the next Earth over is sort of deadly.”
“...so, Goose is doing okay? Speaking of your crew.”
Rosa furrowed her brow.
“Okay, okay,” Jack relented. He knew what she was getting at. It was just fun watching her squirm a bit. “If I’m gonna be a pirate, I have a few demands.”
“You don’t get demands.”
“One? And I’ve only got one. I don’t wanna see this Colorado ever again.”
“That’s doable,” Rosa said. “I can’t promise you won’t get shot eventually. Or get blown apart by shrapnel again.”
“Whatever,” Jack said. “Besides, what are the odds I lose two eyes and need an evil robot one?”
He started up the cargo bay ramp. Rosa followed him. “That’s it? Leaving your old life, just like that?”
“Rosa, my life is boring,” Jack said, pointing to his parents’ home. “The way I see it, it’s the pirate’s life for me. I’ve got nothing to lose. What do you think?”
“It’s not for everyone,” Rosa said, fighting a smile. “You can probably handle it, though.”
The ship’s door closed behind them. It rose up over Beaton, Colorado, and right as Jack’s home became another blip on the horizon, the ship blasted off for the next dimension.
A Crooked Road Home
By Caroline Sciriha
* * *
Five jumps to Xanta
Once you touch the depths, the only way is up. Jesson flicked on his music bank and leaned back in his chair, his whisky glass gripped between his hands. The liquid sound of pipes filled the tiny cabin. He closed his eyes, letting the melody fill his mind with other places, other thoughts, and wash away the lingering memory of those last moments on board the colonists’ starship.
The haunting sounds and the fiery fluid loosened his neck muscles. He gulped down the last of the whisky and poured himself some more, then glanced at the monitor imbedded in the console before him. The starship had floated to the edge of the screen, looking like a silver octopus in a black sea.
He toggled to map mode, and the image faded to be replaced by grid lines and a couple of pinpricks of flashing light. This sector of space was devoid of traffic; it was why he’d chosen it.
The sliding doors behind him swished open and First Mate Stee, a miniscule female with a greyish complexion, stepped into the cabin. “Captain, the booty inventory.” Stee placed a translucent sheet on the console.
“Thanks.” He ran a fingernail down the list. The starship’s control chips would fetch a goodish price on the black market. As for the rest, there was nothing unusual, mostly the colonists’ personal cards plump with galaxy credits, as well as jewellery items and some gadgets—nothing that would excite the big traders. He hadn’t expected anything else, just an easy board and raid to cover his next loan payment.
But nothing ever came easy.
His finger’s downward slide stopped at item 43: the ship’s destination chip.
“Shadow would be interested in that,” Stee said.
“Hmm.” According to the information on the chip, the newly discovered planet was fertile, and its mass and distance from the sun promised moderate temperatures. The Galactic Federation p
rotected these discoveries with the highest security. Which meant Shadow, the richest crime ring in the galaxy, would pay well for the chip—finding premium land for their hallucinatory crops had become a priority. And patrols would be practically non-existent so far out of the normal trade routes. “Seventy-one percent water is a lot of sea, but still leaves a sizable area for Shadow to play with. I’ll send an encrypted message to my father.”
Stee cocked her head. “I thought you already had. The communication schematics recorded a fluctuation just before I left the bridge.”
“Have the Knight Hawk run a system’s test.” A malfunction would be disastrous at this point. Every galaxy credit he netted from this heist had to go into paying back his debt and accrued interest. His beloved father hadn’t offered reduced terms. Never let family interfere with business, if you want to succeed, Father had told him when he protested. Still, this latest heist might enable him to finally break away from Father’s control over him and the ship.
“I’ll let my father know that we’ll be auctioning the chip to the highest bidder.”
Stee’s eyebrows rose.
“Other crime lords might gang up to outbid Shadow,” Jesson said. “That could put the price up.” He was his father’s son after all.
“Shadow won’t like it. And they would expect more loyalty from Lord Jesson’s son.”
“I’ve not taken the oath.” One master was one too many. But for now, he needed to keep Father happy. The remaining whisky in the glass trembled. The Knight Hawk had fired the thrusters and would soon make the jump.
“Set the coordinates for Xanta,” Jesson said. “My father’ll take the loot off us. For his usual cut, of course.”
Stee picked the inventory sheet and left to oversee the jump. Jesson leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. With a bit of luck, the destination chip would enable him to pay all that he still owed for the Knight Hawk and the technology he’d installed to make it the fastest ship in the galaxy. The extra expense had been worth it. The Knight Hawk could outrun any galactic patrol. It was what had kept him alive and out of custody these past ten years.
Jesson removed the patch of artificial skin which covered one of his eyes and rubbed the scar. It itched each time he felt stressed, and even more so when he had to deal with his father. He switched off the music. Pipes and flutes weren’t going to help him today.
A light on the console blinked. He brushed his finger over it and Cargo Master Vincente’s voice crackled out of the speaker. “A freight ship and a patrol answered the colonists’ distress signal. They’re heading here.”
“How long?”
“The Patrol’s the closest. Four jumps away.”
“The colonists might not be alive by then.” Which meant more deaths tallied against him.
“And we’ll be long gone,” Vincente said.
Jesson grunted, then cut the connection. Had he caught a hint of disapproval in Vincente’s tone? Unbidden, a picture of gas-dazed and sobbing colonists rose in Jesson’s mind, but if he grew soft each time a child cried, he should have remained on Xanta. Besides, crying only used up the colonists’ air reserves. And with the control chips in his possession, they wouldn’t be able to generate more. However, if they were very lucky—and had a smart captain—the Patrol might reach them just before their air ran out. The heist should have been just a routine raid—board; fire the gas; cripple the ship; bag all that was portable. His crew knew the drill. But one of the females hadn’t been as disorientated by the gas as the others. These ten years had taught Jesson to never underestimate those with nothing to lose. Unfortunately, his youngest crew member hadn’t been as vigilant.
The life of a skinny boy for a loan payment. Plus the lives of the starship’s crew and passengers. Perhaps.
He’d need to let the boy’s family know, but it would have to wait. More essential business beckoned. Jesson emptied his tumbler, then tapped into the encryptor to reach his father.
* * *
Two jumps to Xanta
The Knight Hawk drifted towards the waiting cruiser. The airspace was crowded this close to Xanta, but if anyone cared to check, their ships’ designations declared that the Knight Hawk was trading in gems and jewellery, while the cruiser was a rich man’s toy, a means of shuttling the pleasure-loving from one hot entertainment spot to another.
The airlocks kissed. Jesson straightened his closefitting jacket and ran his hand over his short hair. As his father had always drummed into his sons, appearance was half a sale.
The cruiser airlock opened with a hiss of warm air. The Shadow lord preferred his ship’s temperatures to be high, it seemed, at least higher than Jesson allowed on his. But then Shadow had a bottomless supply of galaxy credits. Unlike the Knight Hawk.
It was also Shadow’s way of showing who had the greater muscle.
A plump man stepped into the opening. “Jesson’s little bastard.”
Jesson tensed, but this was not the time to take offense. If Shadow thought they could rattle him with an old insult, they did not know the man he’d become.
“Lord Teir.” He’d often seen the drug lord at his father’s house. Jesson schooled his face not to show disappointment—he’d hoped to reach someone higher.
The man’s gaze swept over Jesson from the flesh-coloured eyepatch to the tip of his scuffed boots. Jesson felt warmth rise in his neck. The needier he appeared, the lower the offer would be.
“I see you’ve inherited your father’s eye for business, if nothing else,” Teir said.
Jesson’s fingers tightened into a fist. Teir probably knew that he’d lost his eye at his father’s house, and that Lord Jesson hadn’t bothered to pay for regenerative surgery. “You honour me,” he said.
The Shadow section leader did not advance to offer the customary arm grip. So be it. Teir had called him bastard after all. And there was no hiding the tawny tinge in Jesson’s skin that broadcasted his Ma’attan blood. Taking offense would damage the negotiations before they even started.
“We’ve verified the information you sent Lord Jesson,” Teir said. “Shadow will buy the chip. There will be no auction.”
The hell there won’t. He’d take the slights and the attitude, but no one dictated what he could do with his booty. He opened his mouth to tell Teir just what he thought of that, but the fat man put his hand up. “Our records show that we hold IOUs in your name for the amount of 3 million galaxy credits.”
What! It was the amount he still owed his father. He’d paid back 7 million, plus interest already. And it had taken him ten years and every credit he could spare.
“Lord Jesson was glad to recoup the amount early. Which means, of course, that we own the Knight Hawk. One point five million units is a fair price for the planet’s coordinates.”
He’d hoped for more, much more. “It’s worth three point five.” Enough to pay the rest of the loan and tidy him till the next heist.
“It’s worth nothing without a buyer.” The man’s eyes bore into him. “Or if you’re dead.”
Sweat trickled down to the small of Jesson’s back. In the tiny space, the bigger man had the advantage. But who was he kidding? A Shadow crew member would be monitoring their conversation, and Jesson would be incapacitated with gas before he took a single step toward Teir.
“Good, I see we understand each other,” Teir said. “Lord Jesson is authorised to receive the chip. One more condition. We have a cargo we need delivered to Xanta. Once it and the chip reach your father, we’ll cancel your IOUs for the amount of 1.5 million.”
Jesson shook his head. “The ship’s weight has already been registered with the port authorities. They’ll know I have illegal cargo if I add anything.”
“Credit Shadow with some intelligence. You’ve lost a crew member. The cargo will be the equivalent weight of one sniveling boy.”
How the hell did Shadow know about that? “Then you’ll have to pay passage.”
“Get it through customs and your little bird will
be fuelled and serviced at our expense. That should cover it. You’re more useful off Xanta.”
Teir would look charming with a knife scar running down his fat face. “What’s the cargo?”
“Nothing to worry about. Just feed and water it and deliver it alive.”
What! “Now wait a minute…”
Teir spoke into his wrist mike. The airlock behind him parted and the fat man ducked through it. Jesson took a step after him, but a uniformed crew member filled the space where Teir had stood. He wheeled a square plastic box, the height of Jesson’s hip, through the airlock, then stepped back into the cruiser, leaving the box behind.
The cruiser airlock closed behind him.
How was he going to hide a box that size? It would certainly not fit in any of the secret compartments. The muscle at the side of his jaw jittering, Jesson pulled the box through his side of the airlock and locked the hatch shut.
“What have you there?” As expected, Stee was waiting for him. She eyed the tubes jutting out of the container—one for liquid, one for dried food pellets. The furrows on her brow deepened.
“I don’t know. Some animal or other.”
“We don’t do animals.”
“Yes, well, I wasn’t given much of a choice.”
“We always have a choice.”
“Not when they hold your IOUs.” He’d find a way to pay the old man back for selling him to Shadow. One day.
* * *
One jump to Xanta
“Ne majey ge…
Old is the land of the people.
Fertile and ripe are our wombs.
All are father and mother
Blessed by the two moons.”
Ma crooned the Ma’attan lament as her thin arms held him, turning his sobs to sniffs. He was safe here in her embrace. She would protect him from the big man’s fists. “Ne majey ge…”
A slap, and he slammed onto the floor, his shrieks mingling with Ma’s. Pain lanced down his cheek, burnt his eye. Pain as he’d never felt. He couldn’t see, and warm liquid cascaded down his face, into his mouth.
Scourge of the Seas of Time (and Space) Page 19