Queen of the Pirates (25 page)

Jessica turned to watch his profile. For the first time that she could remember, he looked relaxed. Serene.

Desianna had said that she was making progress in bringing
Warlock
around, but Jessica hadn’t really spent a lot of time around him recently to tell. Still, if Desianna was sure, she was willing to trust that.

“It’s odd,” he began, “not being in charge of anything. For the first time in many, many years, nobody’s life is dependent on my actions, my decisions.”

He turned to study her face, close enough to touch but pointedly separate.

“I wanted to say thank you,” he continued.

She started to say something, but he overrode her gently.

“I know I’ve said it before,” he said, “but I’ve had a lot of free time over the last month to just sit and think. To see where I was going with my life, where I wanted to go. To see that there might be more than just being a chief pirate in a kingdom of pirates. That was your gift to me, unintentional as it was. So, thank you.”

Jessica smiled to hide her confusion. Certainly, she had not had time to have a conversation like that with this man. Her interactions were generally formal, save for regular, much more relaxed meals with Desianna and occasionally Arnulf. Or the more political ones that included the big players, such as the Red Admiral, Jing Du, and Ian Zhao.

Jessica didn’t do personal, or emotional.

But Desianna had said to trust him.

And she wasn’t sure what to say here. Or rather, what the textbooks said sounded all wrong. And the soap operas were far too gooey and false.

She retreated back into herself and turned to watch the stars as well.

Moments passed. Or minutes.

“So what does a big, bad pirate do after a mid–life crisis?” she finally said, teasingly. It was amazing how easy she could drop into that tone with this man. That manner of speech. That ease.

It probably would have frightened her, if anything actually did.

“Be liberated,” he said.

“How so?”

“In
Corynthe
, only the captains have a vote in how things are run,” Daneel said. “When I was the governor of
Sarmarsh
, I was a major player. Before that, I captained the 4–ring
Sunset
. My brother has her now, so I have technically no standing at all until I can challenge someone for command of a ship, or buy or build one of my own.”

“And will you?” Jessica asked quietly. The gravplates in the room seemed to be off. She kept finding herself leaning to her left, closer to this man. And his smell.

“A month ago,” he replied, “I had already lined up a number of candidates.”

“I meant to ask,” she said.

“Go on.”

“If you challenged another captain and beat him, would his crew be loyal to you?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “It is one of the iron–clad rules. Because to challenge a captain for command, it is a duel to the death, unless the man retires completely. That makes it very serious, and very rare. Occasionally, a captain will be promoted by acclaim, when an older captain retires or is promoted to a larger ship, and the remaining crew all agree on his replacement. But the pilots who will not abide will never fly again.”

“I see,” Jessica whispered. “And when you get home, will we see another challenge?”

“That had been my plan. Then.”

“And now?” she asked quietly.

He turned to face her, his whole body, not just his head.

Jessica fought not to take a half step back. On
Ladaux
, she would have been violating this man’s personal space to be this close to him in public. Here, she was almost breathing on him.

“Now,” he said quietly, “I have found that the galaxy is larger than
Corynthe
.”

He looked down at her from almost close enough to kiss.

Almost.

She considered it. Stopped herself from moving closer. Or further away.

Desianna had said to trust him.

Jessica had certainly gamed out the various scenarios, just as she did before any battle.

The stakes weren’t as high here.

Probably.

She wasn’t sure.

She did. And she didn’t. Desire him. Want him. Distrust him.

And she could smell him.

He had obviously showered recently enough to be clean, but not so recently that he had no scent about him.

She placed her palm flat against the center of his chest. Not pushing, nor protecting.

Touching.

His heart pounded far louder that his face showed. She could see the adrenaline in his pupils, in the flare of his nostrils. It wasn’t anger or lust.

It took her a moment to identify.

Fear.

Of her.

Of this.

Of change.

Anything else would have put her off. Angered her.

But this wasn’t a man intent on conquest, nor seduction. There was no threat. No promise.

No naked, raw emotion to drive her off. No histrionics. Not the
Corynthian
way.

Quiet. Honest. Calm. The
Aquitanian
way.

Jessica closed her hand on the fabric. Not to pull him closer. Just to hold him.

She looked up and recognized her own fear, reflected down.

She remembered to breathe.

“Not tonight, Daneel,” she whispered.

She could feel him start to slump in defeat.

“But soon,” she continued quietly. “Very soon.”

His heart rate surged even greater under her knuckles.

She held him there for a second longer, until she saw the beginnings of a smile on his face.

She smiled back. “Very soon.”

Jessica let go of his cloth and flattened it carefully back down, enjoying the play of muscles under her hands as she did.

She gave him a look that encompassed a promise, both to him, and to herself. She smiled and turned to go.

He caught her hand in his and held it for a second.

She glanced back, but he smiled and let go, turning back to face the stars again.

Jessica smiled, smothered it, and then walked into the brighter hallway.

Maybe, just maybe, it was possible, after all.

Chapter XXXIII

Date of the Republic February 6, 394 Above Callumnia

Jouster looked out over his assembled flight wing with a face of serious Doom.

“You ready for this, kid?” He scowled at the pilot in the front row.

The kid smiled up at him. Flight Cornet Murali Ma.
Hànchén
. The rookie. Tall and skinny. Bright gray eyes under a mop of black hair. Off–the–chart smarts. Still wet behind the ears. Not even a year out of flight school.

Hànchén
blinked serenely at him, and then cocked his head slightly to one side. “Pfft. Are they?”

Yeah, he belonged here.

Back a row and over two sat Flight Centurion Darya Lagunov,
Bitter Kitten
.
Jouster’
d never gone head to head with her to be sure, but she might be better than him. Certainly, it would be close.
Old age and treachery, young lady
.

Jouster
smiled. He was all of seven years older than
Bitter Kitten
. This was a young person’s game.

“Okay, folks,” he announced. “Here are the rules of engagement. Every carrier puts up their two youngest pilots.
Auberon
,
Supernova
,
Kali–ma
,
Sky Dancer
,
Warduck
, and
Lithuania
are playing.
Black Prince
will be scoring and hosting.”

A hand shot up in back, attached to a gorgeous, lush babe. One who would never give him the time of day. Or any of the men aboard.

“
Vienna
?” Jouster asked.

“
Lithuania
’s in on this?” she asked. “She’s a 1–ring,
Jouster
.”

“Home port honor,
Vienna
,” he replied.

“Shit.”

“Something like that. Instead of racing the clock, everyone starts from the same relative rest, like yacht racing.”

He smiled and brought up a projection. “It’s a slalom course in orbit.
Black Prince
will pick out three freighters at the last minute and transmit coordinates. You have to pass within two hundred meters of each flag on the way out, flip, and then do it again coming back in. If you miss you circle back and do it again. Best combined team time wins.”

“Racing for pink slips?”
Bitter Kitten
asked with a gleam in her eyes.

“Air boss and dragon lady would never go for it,” he shook his head ruefully. “But there is an M–6
Gungnir
out there today, so it would be nice.”

“Have we yet determined,”
Hànchén
asked, “how such a craft came to be in their possession,
Jouster
? It is technically the legal property of the
Republic of Aquitaine
.”

“Kid,” Jouster said with a smile, “they’re pirates. Any story they tell you will be a lie. And this ain’t the movies, where we all get dressed up like ninjas and steal it in some complicated caper move.”

Hànchén
smiled coolly and looked sideways at his mates. “Maybe
you
don’t.”

The room laughed.

“And remember, we’re being friendly with these people,”
Jouster
continued when it quieted down. “But watch your ass around the two from
Kali–ma
. Dragon Lady does not like Ian Zhao one bit. Expect reciprocity.”

Ξ

Bitter Kitten
wiggled her butt a touch to get it just right into the acceleration pad.

This wasn’t going to be complicated computer flying today. No tactical runs through the combat planner to find the best approach angle. Just raw power, finesse, and nerves. ID the first target, light the fires, run like hell. Find the next target midway and plot a double slingshot with a bootlegger reverse at the end. Rinse. Repeat.

Child’s play.

These boys didn’t stand a chance. Well, boys and one girl. One seriously deranged chick off
Sky Dancer
. Had to be good to get a slot with all the male chauvinist pigs in this neighborhood. Probably somebody’s daughter, or niece. Had done some crazy–ass flying over
Walea
to show off, though.

Or maybe it was a mating dance.

You never knew with pirates. Not that some of them might not clean up well. But really, dude? Pirates?

Hànchén
, on the other hand, cleaned up pretty well. Little too book–nerdy, but at least better conversations than sports and girls.

They might have to celebrate when this was done.

Okay, over on the port side.
Cayenne
playing rescue tug, just in case
. da Vinci
sitting in a high slot with her scanners on, broadcasting the entire racecourse to everyone so there were no surprises. Few surprises, anyway. Time to party.

On her board, a light turned yellow, signaling the countdown was terminal.
Bitter Kitten
popped her knuckles with either hand without losing touch of the control yoke.

She dialed up the generator to max output and feathered the thruster valves wide open. Until she lit the engines proper, there was only auxiliary power reactor exhaust to vent. Barely enough to move a craft like this. Still, it was the difference between drifting in the right direction and being cold in orbit when the flag went up.

You had to be careful doing this. She just knew the other yahoos were going to slam their throttles to the stop and redline the engines when the signal came. Wouldn’t necessarily blow the engines this time, but you were gonna, one of these days.
Difference between bad–ass pilot and bush–league pirates, punk.

Green light.

Yup, someone on
Black Prince
was feeling rude today. First way–point was almost straight up, a freighter camped in high orbit.

She loosed the gyros with her control stick and let her craft slowly rotate backwards in place. Everyone else would move first and then maneuver. They would be fast, sure, and completely out of position as they gunned it before they had their first nav point plotted.

Amateurs
.

And, sure enough, some ijit blew his engine apart overloading it from a cold start. Looked like the craft was still intact, so maybe
Cayenne
just needed to pull him back to his carrier for repairs, rather than scraping him up off the insides of his tin can.
This is why you take care of your machine, dumb–ass.

Bitter Kitten
brought her engines full in one smooth motion, rather than jamming the throttle all the way forward. Around her, her fighter, her chariot, shimmied just right as she dialed her thruster valves down to mouths spewing dragon’s breath and broke out of orbit.

Hànchén
was already moving, along with most of the others, as she brought her nose into the right vector and let the power rip. But, like the rest, he was headed the wrong way and fighting his nose around.

Enjoy the view of my pretty ass, boys. You’ll be seeing it a lot today.

Ξ

“How goes the racing, Denis?” Jessica said as she entered the bridge. She figured it would look better if she was actually present for part of it. Give it the imprimatur of respectability. Or something like that.

They were pilots. Respectability wasn’t high on their list.

“There are a couple of really good pilots out there,” he replied, glancing up at her from the screen he was watching. “
Bitter Kitten
is dangerously close to lapping the field.
Hànchén
is currently in fourth.
Lithuania
is apparently crewed much better than you would expect for a 1–ring. They have second and fifth.”

“Who’s third?”

“The only other female in the field today,” Denis smiled. “
Furious
off
Sky Dancer
.”

“Good,” Jessica replied. “Makes sense out here. Any woman flying with these yahoos has to be twice as good as any boy she encounters.”