Reavers (Book 3) (2 page)

“Of all the times . . .” Johnson said angrily.  “Jamaal, get him to Medical!”

After a short pause, he realized there was no response.  Turning, he found Jamaal on the floor, gripping his head while writhing in silent agony.  Scanning the bridge, Johnson found the rest of the crew disabled.  A dull headache started to pound on his mind.

Shaking off the discomfort, he returned his gaze to the monitor.  The horde of objects had ceased their advance and were hanging perfectly still in a neat grid around the ship.  With a start, Johnson realized they had to be responsible.  His headache started to become more intense.  Rubbing his temples, Johnson tapped a command on the terminal, activating the P.A.

“This is the captain.  Any active crewmembers respond!”

Johnson waited for an unbearable time, but no response came.  Those objects had incapacitated the entire crew.  His headache was growing to the point he couldn’t take it much longer.  He realized he would soon be joining the crew.  Shaking off the pain and focusing everything he had, the captain pushed the tactical officer out of his chair.  Firing at one of the ships, Johnson’s heart sank as it easily avoided the ship’s missile.

The pain returned, twice as strong as before.  Johnson struggled to keep his focus.  As he tried to think of options, he wiped at his nose subconsciously.  Looking at his hand, he found a thick layer of blood coating it.  He wouldn’t last much longer.  Mustering the last of his resolve, he desperately worked at the console.  After sending a copy of all the data the ship had collected, he entered in the last command he would ever give.

“Auto destruct activated,” an automated voice spoke in a soothing tone that did not match the severity of her words.  “Ship destruction in thirty seconds.  All hands abandon ship.”

The pull of the moon increased exponentially.  The already slanted room started to roll completely to the right side.  The main reactor was starting to draw all its energy to itself.  Without that energy, the ship could no longer resist the pull of the orb below.  As Johnson started to black out, a smile encompassed his face.  The horde of objects were still hanging perfectly still.  They had no idea what was about to happen to them. 

In the silence of space, the ship of the Commonwealth started to fall to the moon below.  Inside, alarms blared as the main reactor passed critical.  As the aft sections of the ship collided with the surface of the moon, a single point of light flashed into existence.  The impossibly small point burst outward, blotting out all form and substance, replacing everything with blinding light.  Consumed by brightness more intense than the nearby star, the ship and the horde of objects were no more.  After the blazing light subsided, the moon stood broken.  A quarter of the moon had been taken with the ship.  A giant cavity left in its surface was the only remains of the ship of the Commonwealth.

With a catlike purr, Rosalyn settled into her new chair.  The shifting of the soft cushions coaxed out a long contented sigh.  The newest addition to her collection was definitely a keeper.  She had hoped so.  It was a luxury item that normally would have cost more than the annual salary of most rim worlders.  Andreas always rebuked her for keeping merchandise they “liberated” from one transport or another.  However, as the chair adjusted itself to provide optimal comfort, the whispers of his disapproval faded from her memory.

Wondrous items shifted through the void of space just waiting for someone who
really
appreciated their worth.  The Commonwealth was a giant candy store filled with treats that made even her delightful new acquisition seem plain.  After the short war with the Shard three years ago, the Navy had been reduced to next to nothing.

The warships of their ancient mechanical foe had eviscerated the once proud Navy fleet to ribbons.  What all that meant for Rosalyn and her crew was the candy store was now unguarded.  Targets that would have been untouchable were now being served right and left of her on silver platters.  There were still a few in the Navy that hunted her and the other pirates, but with so few ships at their disposal it was barely a challenge to get around them.

The only real threats were the pirate guilds.  Swooping down on a lone transport that had already been targeted by another guild was always a bloody affair.  Rosalyn despised the idea of throwing her lot in with any single faction of the Circle.  The guilds ran the pirates under them like the corporations.  And the Circle made sure all the guilds played nice with one another, most of the time.  If Rosalyn wanted a taskmaster to oversee her every move, she might as well join a legitimate corporation - better benefit package.

Andreas didn’t approve of that attitude either, but even he had to admit it paid off handsomely at times.  It was a struggle to keep aliases aligned with the different factions of the Circle, but being able to talk your way out of a fight was always more profitable than fighting your way out.  In total, her ship had over a hundred names and ran under an even greater number of banners.  It seemed fitting that the shipwrights had called her custom ship the Legion - one ship, many names.

“We’ve arrived, Rosy,” Andreas’ voice said from the speaker in the corner of the room.  “If you can steal yourself away from that blasted toy of yours, we need you.”

“But I just got comfortable!” she grumbled to herself.

Naturally, Andreas couldn’t hear her.  She had purposely kept her room private.  It had been quite a fight to have that lone speaker installed, and only Andreas was permitted to use it.  Quickly changing into a more formal and dangerous looking outfit, she left her quarters.  Appearance was half the job of a pirate.  Nine out of ten transport captains would instantly surrender if she looked dangerous enough.  That one in ten would fight back, no matter what she did.

This was one of the many lessons her father had taught her.  In his prime, even the mighty Navy had feared him.  As she left her quarters, she passed the communication terminal, another of the troublesome things Andreas had insisted she install on her ship.  Rosalyn could use it to contact Andreas at anytime if she felt the need, but there was no need now.  Andreas knew she would come.  They had just reached one of the countless uninhabited rocks wandering aimlessly through space.

Or at least, that’s how the Commonwealth officially classified it.  In truth, it was Freeport Thirteen, one of the few remaining neutral pirate bases.  As a child, Rosalyn’s grandfather would tell her stories of when the Freeports numbered in the thousands, and pirates roamed free.  Those times were long over.  Four months prior, Freeport Sixty-four had signed affiliation papers with the Golden Claw guild.  It was only a matter of time until the last six neutral bases joined with one faction or another.  When that happened, Rosalyn too would finally have to join a guild.  However, that sour thought was easily obscured by the reason they had come.

A cargo hold
full
of those luxury chairs.  The profit would be enough to keep her in business for another year, if not longer.  Not only that, the ship was getting new crewmembers.  She couldn’t decide which was more enjoyable, counting her credits after a profitable raid, or hand picking her new minions.  Rosalyn tried to contain her bliss as she marched down the corridors of her ship.  She had made sure their appearance was distinctively unique.

Rosalyn hated the gleaming white of ships used by the Commonwealth and the utilitarian feel of those used by the corporations felt dirty somehow.  Her father had always used the gleaming white on all his ships.  He said it helped blend in.  But what was the purpose of being a pirate if you couldn’t enjoy a little individuality?  It had taken a huge number of jobs to finance, but Rosalyn had created a ship that was hers and hers alone.  The walls were a smooth black that gently reflected those walking down them.  Dancing patterns of light would follow her progress.  At any point she could tap on the walls and a direct link to the ship’s computer would display itself.  That little feature was genetically coded to only Andreas and herself.

She often considered blocking him to teach him a lesson, but he was too useful - even if Andreas was a chronic killjoy.  Rosalyn often wondered if he went out of his way to be contrary.  However, above all else, he was good at keeping things running.  Since the day he had joined her crew, the ship had not had a single major problem.  Even the small malfunctions were few and always quickly resolved.  Thanks to him, the ship always had a course and a target.  She couldn’t imagine going back to the days before she had found him. 

As she rounded the final corridor, Rosalyn came face to face with the docking seal.  After quickly checking her appearance, she touched the contact and the seal started hissing.  As the bulkheads started to separate, the smells and sounds of the Freeport wafted over her.  As a child she had found it all repulsive, but now she couldn’t think of a more pleasant aroma.  Commonwealth stations were all so clean and proper; even the air seemed stale and restricted.  Freeports had none of that.  The wonderful smells of freshly prepared food mixed with the grunge of the maintenance crews to create a mélange that was not to be found anywhere else in the Commonwealth.

“Glad to see you own that silly thing and not the other way around,” Andreas said with a small smile.

“You’re just jealous,” she said with a wink.  “If you really want one that badly I can dock your pay.”

“Duda is offering
half
.”  He got to business, ignoring her taunting.

Without another word, Rosalyn stormed off.  It made sense Duda would try to ruin her day.  That was his job after all.  That slimy devil was always looking to change terms.  Duda was a necessary evil.  Stealing was all well and good, but without people like him it was pointless.  Duda was born with three distinct features.  One was his ability to sell anything to anyone.  He could take a shipment of stolen goods no one in their right mind would handle and in a week not only have a buyer but charge them double what the goods were really worth.

His second feature was being born without a shred of moral decency.  If he could make even a single credit, he would stab you in the back - or the front.  Duda didn’t care as long as he came out ahead.  His final, and most noticeable, feature was his lack of a nose.  Sure he had one on his face, but it was purely decorative.  Tracking down Duda was an easy task; one could smell his
aroma
from half way across the Freeport.

As she tracked down his scent, the merchants tried to sell her their wares, and her fellow pirates sized her up.  Having been carved out of an asteroid, Freeports were more than just orbiting stations - they were self-contained cities.  People of every walk of life lived within the asteroid, free of the influence of the Commonwealth.  The homes and businesses were carved into the very rock itself.  The streets were smoothed stones, with small indentations left behind by the massive machines that had carved them centuries ago. 

No one really remembered when the Freeports were made.  Some claimed it had happened shortly after the end of the Great War, and that was a thousand years ago.  Others claimed they were long lost remnants of the times
before
the Great War.  A few even asserted they were long lost alien dwellings with origins reaching back before humanity itself.

How or why they were originally built had been lost long before Rosalyn had been born.  It all honesty, it didn’t matter either.  Whatever their origin really was, they were safe havens from the Commonwealth and that was all that mattered.  The loud grating sound of shattering plates let her know she had found her quarry.  Several obviously annoyed pirates were resting against the walls of a restaurant. 

Two overly muscled men stood on either side of the open doorway.  Only Duda would need protection here.  Ignoring the men, Rosalyn walked confidently into the restaurant.  The waiting pirates snickered and scoffed.  To their surprise, the two burly men parted and let her pass.

The tables were completely empty.  Duda always ate alone.  Being born without a moral code meant that sooner or later he would betray everyone.  Naturally, he was more than a little paranoid about being betrayed himself.  As Rosalyn walked past the empty tables, she heard another plate smash.  A young woman in tears quickly ran past her.  Up ahead, a single table was occupied with a fat man clearly upset.  On the ground were countless shards of a great number of broken plates

“This is horrible!” Duda shouted, tossing yet another plate of food on the ground.  “Can’t you people make anything edible?”

“What’s the problem?” Rosalyn asked thoughtfully.  “They forgot to serve your food in a trough?”

“Miss Dubois!  To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Don’t play dumb.  What do you want?”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you . . .”

“Look.  I’ve known you since before I could walk.  You are a slimy snake who would sell out his own mother for a profit, but beyond that you are a businessman.  You know I was ready for you to try to squeeze out of our arrangement.  But only paying half of what we agreed?  You knew that would get me to come.  So let’s skip all the foreplay and get right down to it.  What do you want?”

“The brains and bravery of your father with the beauty of your mother.  I knew that was a good match.  In any case you are perfectly correct.  I have a favor to ask.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Do you know of a man named Novák?  Tardos Novák to be exact.”

“Sounds familiar but I can’t put a face with the name.  Who is he?”

“An old . . .
associate
of mine who has fallen on . . . hard times.”

“My heart bleeds for him.  How does this involve me?”

“As fate would have it, he has managed to find himself here.  He would like nothing more than to join a crew and leave the Freeport.  However, so far he has been . . . unable.  I was wondering if you might consider . . .”

“He’s not trouble is he?  I won’t invite trouble on my ship no matter how close you two are.”

“Not at all; he is harmless.  In fact, he might be an asset to you.”

“If he is so useful why hasn’t he already been picked up?”

“There was an . . . incident.  His good name was tarnished.  I assure you the incident was not entirely of his fault.  He is still useful.  Just not popular.”

“Odd to hear a man like you speaking as an authority on popularity.”

“No need to be rude, I merely . . .”

“Save it.  I’ll take your friend along.  Just know that if you lied to me and he
is
trouble, I won’t hesitate to push him out an airlock.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Duda said while chuckling in a dark voice.

“Another thing.  You’ll be paying an extra ten percent
over
what we agreed.  Next time, ask me instead of trying to trick me.”

Duda grunted in clear annoyance.  He wasn’t happy but he was accepting.  That was not a good sign.  Whoever this Novák character was he would be trouble.  With a final nod from Duda, their business was concluded.  As Rosalyn left, she ran into the waitress.  Quickly grabbing the young girl’s shoulder she leaned in close.

“Throw some cleaning fluid on his food,” Rosalyn whispered.

The waitress stared at her in horror.

“It won’t kill him,” Rosalyn whispered, slightly annoyed.  “The local chefs have been trying that for years.  Turns out he’s grown not only immunity but also a liking for the flavor.”

The waitress stared at her in disbelief but did as instructed.  With a smile, Rosalyn watched the girl return to Duda.

“This is more like it!” he shouted after taking a bite.  “Maybe there is hope for you yet.”

Chuckling to herself, Rosalyn left the restaurant.  As soon as she was far enough, she took several deep breaths.  It was all she could do not to vomit on the man at such close range.  Reaching into her pocket, she started tapping on her pad.  Everyone had a pad, but not like this one.  Normal pads were flat rectangles that fit perfectly into your pocket.  From them you could access any publicly known information. 

Rosalyn’s pad was one of the experimental versions.  It was a bit thicker than normal but had a great many new features to compensate.  The most useful so far was its ability to send private messages.  As she worked on hers, she knew Andreas’ was vibrating in a set pattern.  It had taken some time to learn the old code, but now the two of them could communicate at anytime without anyone knowing it - even while being watched.