The Star Pirate's Folly (12 page)

“What do you mean nothing? They’re just not on the record?”

“I mean what I said: they were never there before 2302. Even
small objects leave traces of their presence, and these three asteroids are no
exception. From 2302 until now they’re part of the normal flow of Styx,
interacting with thousands of different objects in orbit. But before that year
there’s no evidence of them at all. It’s like they just materialized out of
nothing.”

“Surveyors could’ve missed them before then.”

“Impossible. Every year after 2302 they show up on the
record. Same drones, same equipment, same orbit—different results. There is
absolutely no way all three of these independently showed up in the inner belt
all the way from the outer comet cloud on the same year.”

“You’re such a tease, Myra. What are you saying?”

“Somebody put them there.”

Victor tore a hot wheat roll into a top and bottom, spread
some jam on both sides, and put them back together on his tray beside the rest
of his breakfast—two square sausage patties, scrambled warbler eggs, and a
sliced dewcrisp apple. Bill sat down with his own tray across from Victor at
the cafeteria-style table in the center of the compact dining room.

“So what’d you think of Ferro?” Victor asked.

“She’s sharp. Natural talent,” Bill said around a mouthful
of granola. “Says her dad taught her to pilot when she was nine.”

“Surprising amount of experience at the helm for her age.
I’m amazed we found someone like her on such short notice. Thought I’d have to
take us out there myself.”

“Should be another hundred and twenty hours to Optima. After
we load up there it’s three weeks to our next stop.”

“Let’s wake up Truly today,” Victor said. He chomped on his
first slice of apple after finishing the sausage and eggs.

Silver made a face. “Already? We’re still in Core space for
another five days. Best we don’t wake him till we need him, I think.”

“We’ll wake him today,” the Captain said, not
confrontationally, but with firm confidence in the action. “I need his thoughts
on this job.”

Silver shrugged. “If you think it’s worth the cost I’ll take
care of it.”

“We can spare a few extra hours of non-combat pay.”

“Might have to be hazard pay with that girl around,” Silver
said. “Even if she is locked up—she’s gone nuts over this whole Starhawk
thing.”

“Yeah, Myra’s been keeping me updated,” Victor said. He
waved the final bite of his jam roll. “Star-crossed enemies or something like
that, right?”

“Something like that. You probably know more than me.”

“Maybe I’ll talk to her. Get started on Truly after you’re
done,” Victor said as he rose with his empty tray. “I’ll meet him in the
nullroom in an hour.”

***

“Coronis, Numa, Surface, Atla, Salatia, Ymir,” Bee whispered
to herself.

She studied a miniature live map of the Luxar System her pad
projected. The map displayed each planet’s orbit with a white line, six
wobbling ellipses around Lux at the center.

Three terrestrial planets made up the Core. Closest to the
sun was Coronis, tiny and far too hot to be habitable. Next came the planet
Numa—partially inhabited, but mostly a desert wasteland—then Surface in the
Goldilocks zone.

Beyond Surface was the asteroid belt Styx. Optima/67C, a
spherical planetoid near the inner edge of Styx, was the biggest of them. The
gated settlement built into the rock functioned as a trading and travel hub for
the system—anyone wanting to cross Styx without risking a pirate attack had to
use Optima’s gates to get from one side to the other.

Then there was Atla, the hulking gas giant. The titanic
gravitational contest between the star Lux and Atla created Styx, pulling the
scattered asteroids into limbo. Past Atla lay the ringed storm planet
Salatia—and finally at the edge of the system Ymir the ice giant.

Bee wasn’t used to thinking in terms of the whole star
system. She hadn’t even memorized all the planets. Her reality until that point
was entirely city-oriented—streets and walls, crowds of people and flashing
signs. She’d never even been outside the dome before, and here she was in a
starship on her way to the fringe of civilized society.

A knock at the door. “Alright if I come in? It’s the
Captain.”

“I can’t open it,” she called as she picked up her pad and
stood.

The door slid open. The Captain was an older man—maybe
fifty, Bee guessed—wearing a pair of beaten and frayed brown pants over a
skintight black undersuit that left his hands and feet bare. He held a tray of
food and a cup of water.

“Just trying to be polite. I’m Captain Anson. Thought you
might be hungry,” he said. “Can I talk with you a minute or you want me to just
leave this?”

Bee didn’t know how to respond. She hadn’t expected the
Captain to be so hospitable after Bill Silver’s treatment. He didn’t wait for
an answer, just padded inside and left the door open. A sharp kick to a hidden
wall panel released a small table with folding legs which sprang to attention.
The Captain set the tray and cup on the table.

“It’s too bad you got tangled up in all this. Myra’s told me
about your situation. There’s nothing we can do about it now, us being on our
way out already, but I can promise you’re free to go once we reach Optima. As
long as you behave yourself I’m willing to let you out of your room and treat
you like a normal passenger during the trip—this prisoner stuff makes me tired.
Deal?”

Bee nodded yes. “Okay.”

“Alright, you’re free then. Just don’t ruffle Silver’s
feathers,” he said. “He gets cranky enough as is. You’re on the berth deck
right now with the crew quarters plus kitchen and dining. This is the only deck
you’re allowed on without an escort. Lower deck’s our engine room and nullroom.
Don’t go there alone. Upper deck’s the bridge. Don’t go there alone either.”

“Thanks,” Bee said. “I won’t be trouble.”

Captain Anson gave a nod of approval. “That’s the spirit.
Kitchen’s to the right when you come out, then a left halfway down the hall.
Myra will show you where you can put your dishes. And don’t expect to get room
service again—you serve yourself, you clean up after yourself.”

The Captain left Bee to her breakfast. The door slid shut
behind him, and for a second she was sure he’d locked her in again. She hurried
to the door and swiped the pad to open it. To her relief the door hissed aside.
The Captain glanced back at the noise as he walked away and saw her standing at
the door. Bee flashed a sheepish smile and ducked back inside to the tray of
food he’d left her.

“He’s such a softie, isn’t he?” Myra said.

Bee gasped, choking on a bite of roll. Her eyes bugged out
and watered as she coughed it back up.

“Sorry,” Myra said, holding back a laugh. “You’re not used
to me just popping in like that.”

“Scared me,” Bee said, and swallowed. “You don’t have
cameras in here, do you?”

“In the passengers’ quarters? No, of course not. We’re
professionals—we’d lose our license for that.”

“License for what?”

“Privateering.”

“Hargrove says privateers are just pirates in sheep’s
clothing.”

“Yeah, has
Hargrove
ever even been off-planet?” Myra
asked. “We do passenger and cargo transport—protection.”

Bee shrugged. “He knows lots of people from all over.
Speaking of, I want to call him. Can I do that?”

“I’ve been trying to send your message from before, but it’s
not getting through. With all the trouble they’re having on Surface there’s
been nothing available to receive it. Last contact was four hours ago.”

She dropped her fork. “So he doesn’t know.”

“I’m sorry.”

The urge to eat vanished, replaced by a heavy brick of
guilt. Bee stood and paced the small room. “Do you know if he’s okay?”

“The article you read last night was the only mention of his
name in the news,” Myra said. “So as far as I know he’s safe in a bombardment
shelter along with the rest of the citizens.”

“I never told him where I was going. I just left. I should
have just stayed there this whole time. Starhawk—”

“Yeah, look,” Myra said. “This whole blood vengeance thing
you’ve got going on—it’s cute, but do you really think you stand a chance?”

“If I can get near him I’ll take any chance I get,” Bee said
with sudden fire. “You don’t know
half
the things I’ve done.”

“I’m here for you if you want to talk, sweetie,” Myra said.

Bee opened her mouth but Myra’s kindness, the warmth behind
the words, took her by surprise. She didn’t trust her voice. The guilt over
leaving Hargrove behind, missing her chance at Starhawk, letting her mother
down—

She wouldn’t cry again. Bee took a breath and steadied
herself.

“No,” she said, and walked to the door. “I like to—it makes
me feel better to run. Exercise. Is there somewhere I can…?”

“The crew uses the nullroom for exercise. They’re checking
inventory now but they’ll be done in half an hour. I’ll ask the Captain if it’s
okay.”

“Thanks,” Bee said. She sat at the little table to finish her
breakfast, and within moments Myra was back.

“He says it’s fine. Head down there when you’re done.”

***

After putting her dishes in the washer Bee wasn’t sure where
to go.

“This way,” Myra said.

A yellow arrow pointing to the right appeared in front of
her at the entrance to the kitchen and dining area, suspended in midair. It
pulsed with light. As Bee approached it she felt the faint heat it emitted, and
when she reached out to touch it the arrow zoomed out of reach down the
hallway.

“Cool,” she said, following it.

The arrow flitted away again just as she was getting close,
this time hovering in front of a closed bulkhead door. Bee reached out to
snatch it and the arrow dissolved into warm glimmering sand where she touched
it, the tiny particles falling to the ground and fading to nothing.

“What is this?” she asked, watching it slide through her
hands. She could feel the heat the grains of light gave off, but when she tried
to press them between her fingers they just snuffed out.

“You’ve never seen hardlight before? It’s all the rage out
on the edge planets. The Captain picked up some new lenses for me on our last
run to Atla. Spud can’t get enough of this stuff.”

“Who’s Spud?” Bee turned the wheel on the bulkhead door and
swung it open.

“You’re about to meet him,” Myra said. “Just try to keep any
running or sudden movements to a minimum around him. He’s got a pretty strong
instinct to chase.”

“Uh… okay,” Bee said as she walked into the cramped
stairwell.

The stairs spiraled down in a tight circle to the lower
deck. Another yellow arrow waited patiently for her at the bottom. She walked
through it to open the bulkhead door and grains of bright sand tumbled off her
body.

After securing the door Bee followed the next glowing arrow
as it drifted down the hallway to the nullroom. When she got to the arrow in
front of the next bulkhead it exploded in a shower of light that bounced off
the walls. Bee flinched and laughed.

“What exactly is a nullroom anyway?” she asked.

“You don’t know much, do you?”

“Not about spaceships.”

“See for yourself.”

Bee opened the door to the nullroom. It was a massive space,
bigger than she would have thought possible on
Wanderlust
, at least
eighty feet in length and maybe thirty in width and height. She stood in the
doorway in the center of its short side looking down the whole length of the
room. At first she didn’t see anyone, just rows of dark green shipping
containers on both sides with aisles between each row and through the center of
the room.

Then she saw movement at the other end of the room. The
Captain and someone in a black armored nullsuit walked toward her on the wall
to her right, completely horizontal. The suited one towered over the Captain by
a solid foot, she realized as they got closer. They both hopped off the wall and
twisted midair to right themselves, landing on the ground with ease.

“Bee, right?” the Captain said.

“Yeah,” Bee said.

“This is Spud,” Captain Anson said, waving a hand at the
suited behemoth behind him. “He lives in here.”

“Hey Spud,” she said. “I’m Bee.”

Spud took off his helmet. His bald oblong head and battered
face did his name justice. Suspicious brown eyes peered down at Bee from
beneath a hanging brow. “This Spud’s room,” he boomed.

“It’s not your room, Spud,” the Captain said. “Just because
you refuse to go anywhere else on the ship doesn’t make this whole thing
your
room. Your room is right over there. Bee’s going to exercise in here, so
why don’t you give her a little privacy?”

Spud lumbered wordlessly to one of the many storage
containers, pushed one of the double sliding doors along its length aside, and
went in. He opened the door on other side as well before dropping into a huge
hammock that somehow supported his weight even in the suit. It looked like
they’d converted the container into a compact dwelling.

“Just use the roof or one of the walls if you want to run,”
Captain Anson said.

“Wait, I’ve never—how do you…?” Bee said.

“You’ve never been in a nullroom before? Not even on
Surface?”

“I never got out much.”

“Well, I guess I could teach you really quick,” the Captain
said. He moved to a control pad on the wall and tapped in some commands. “I’ll
just get rid of these.”

The shipping containers—except Spud’s on the right wall—sunk
into the floor until they were completely recessed, their flat tops flush with
the ground. It made the room much more spacious.

“Let’s go,” the Captain said, and beckoned her to follow as
he jogged to the other end of the nullroom.