The Pirates 6

“Don’t stall,” Penn said. “I may not have Sieznull’s lie detector, but I can tell when someone is fabricating. You’ve done enough of that already.”

Lannetay sighed. “Okay. You’ve heard the Wantis can’t feed themselves?”

“Who hasn’t? That’s why they went to war in the first place.”

Lannetay did her best to fake being abashed. “I heard on Inglep the Wantis are going to take over Rubineker and make it a full-fledged farming colony. Their fleet is already on the way, and they’re going full-bore on upgrading the colony to raise crops. I’m only trying to beat the market by getting this equipment there first.”

Penn didn’t look like he believed her. “You are aware the Wantis tend to take what they need, regardless of who provides it?”

“Yes. I have a plan for that. I don’t really want to go into it, though. It’s convoluted.”

Penn nodded, obviously still unconvinced. “A Wanti attack on Rubineker could be used to make money. Do you know when?”

“In the next two weeks. We were going to hide in-system and wait.”

Penn’s nodding slowed. “Hmmm.”

***

Docking to the pirate ship wasn’t possible, so Goofball had to use an emergency support belt to drift from Tabitha to the airlock. He recognized the configuration of the ship, accessed the factory specs from Tabitha’s memory, and tapped in default codes.

The seventh attempt worked. Will nobody ever learn to change the presets? he thought.

I’m not programmed to anticipate human activity, Tabitha sent back.

Goofball shook his head and boarded the ship. He convinced the Olinerie he’d been recently recruited. “I’m supposed to watch the ship while the rest of them are on the William Placard.”

The typical monotone of a Core system replied. “Limited access granted. Authorization needed for full rights.”

Goofball smiled and wound his way through the living areas, past the crew quarters, and into the engineering spaces. A workstation stood wide open for him, and his fingers flew as he penetrated layer after layer of their laughable security.

The ship’s log told him more than three out of every four ships Olinerie stopped were subsequently destroyed. Not a chance he wanted to take.

Bill, can you hear me?

Nothing. He’d have to take steps himself to make sure the pirates weren’t able to obliterate William Placard.Even with the damage he’d inflicted, the Olinerie still had missiles. He spent a few minutes gaining access, then programmed a main power shutoff fifty seconds after undocking from William Placard. A half-minute should be sufficient.

Goofball stood, considered, and inserted a virus to do the same any time this ship – or any others with the same ownership – approached within range of William Placard’s transponder. He smiled and added a personal glyph to display as the power failed. They’d know somebody had been tinkering, but not specifically who. Or when.

I wonder what they’re carrying. He headed up a ramp to the cargo hold.

I don’t have access to that information.

Goofball sighed, resisting the urge to tell Tabitha to shut up.

***

Penn motioned Lannetay to head back to the living spaces. Once through the airlock, she re-secured the system.

The pirate captain looked down the crew corridor. “Three staterooms left, three to the right.” He pondered.

Are you just about done back there, Lannetay? Carnifor’s ire colored his “voice.” Your crew is getting restive, and the pirates look like they want to start shooting people just to have something to do.

Keep your engines cool. I’m trying to balance on the edge of an event horizon here.

“Let me see your stateroom,” Penn said. “You’re hiding something on this ship, and I want to see it.”

Lannetay blinked her surprise. “You think I’m hiding something in my rooms? There’s nothing of value there except fashion patterns.”

“I don’t care about fashion.”

That’s for sure, Bill quipped. That shade of blue does nothing for his eyes.

Lannetay didn’t quite hide a chuckle.

“You think this is funny?” Penn asked.

Lannetay fought to bring her expression back to normal. “No, I just visualized you in one of my outfits. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“Well, I’m not going to rifle through your closet.” Penn drew his pistol and aimed it at Lannetay’s heart. “I want something of value.”

Lannetay shrugged. No need for closets when each outfit was recycled every day. “Okay. But I want a chaperone before I’ll go into a private space with you.”

Oooo! Bill sent. Pushing your luck, aren’t you?

I want to see how far these jokers will go. They don’t seem like people who could succeed at pirating for very long.

Penn’s expression turned to puzzlement. “Why? You’re the captain of the ship.”

“Propriety, if for nothing else. I have a religious objection to being in a private space alone with a man.”

Penn scoffed. “We were alone in the cargo hold. Same thing.”

“It’s not. That’s a public space, my quarters are private. I won’t go in there with you unless someone is with us.” Lannetay crossed her arms and set her jaw.

“Your virtue is safe with me. You’re far older than I like.” A smug smile tugged at his mouth.

Lannetay said, “I’m sure you didn’t mean that as an insult.”

“Not at all.” Penn’s laugh indicating the opposite.

Marc interrupted via implants. Mom? Are you okay?

Hush. I’m still dealing with this pirate captain. She tightened her arms. “So, do we get an escort or not?”

Penn’s eyes clouded for a few seconds. Lannetay could see his ire increasing and guessed a silent argument went on between Penn and a cohort.

“Fine. Sieznull will be here in a moment.” Anger rang from his words.

Lannetay let her expression relax a bit. “Not used to defiance, are you?”

“No.” He crossed his arms, still holding his pistol, staring into Lannetay’s gaze and waiting for the woman with the eyepatch.

***

Goofball stood in awe at the valuable cargo in front of him. A hundred crates of Wagyu steak. Boxes of Nadurumi spices. Stacks of canned Topil beluga. None of these classic items had ever been mapped for synthesizing. Somehow the preservation process prevented duplication.

Breaking into a crate of steaks would destroy the food’s stability. They’d need to be cooked or frozen within an hour. William Placard had no refrigeration, nor any way of cooking meat. Goofball dumped out one box of spices, rifled through the other seven, and stocked one box with a variety. It should fit behind the recliner in his fighter.

A box off the the side looked out of place. Inside he found perhaps a hundred credit chips. None showed their denomination, but with a smile he closed the box and added it to his collection of booty. Then he picked up a couple cans of beluga and sprinted for Tabitha.

If you're wondering more about these characters, their origins are detailed in Ebony Sea: Origins. If you appreciate this story, please share on social media, and consider supporting the author's ability to continue writing by purchasing the Origins story and leaving a review at the link above.

The Brotherhood #23

By Mark W. Meier

Part 23

Act III

The First Horseman

Your opening statement was a bombshell. “Congressman Franz Gordon will not be running for reelection.” They’d expected a simple announcement you’d be running again for state senate. “Rules don’t allow me to run for Congress while seeking reelection. Therefore I’ve chosen to run for Congressman Gordon’s seat.”

The announcement sparked questions, and within minutes more reporters and supporters crowded into the hall which was suddenly far too small. You were there for hours.

I sat in your office that evening, giving you the illusion that you were controlling the course of events, that you were the one making decisions about your career. “You shouldn’t have done that. It’s too early.”

Your contemptuous smile told me you thought you didn’t need me. “We’ll see, Leo. When I get to the House, perhaps we’ll renegotiate our deal.”

“When.” I laughed as I walked away from the door I deliberately left open. The echo of my mirth reverberated into your office and stuck in your head, making you worry.

Without your knowledge, my Brothers backed your opponent. You lost by an epic margin of fifty-three percent. If you wanted to conquer the world you’d need my help.

“How could I lose so badly?” you lamented.

We were in my office again, with my freshly installed hardwood floor and solid oak paneling. You needed me, regardless of how much you resented it, and my renovations demonstrated I didn’t need you.

“We did everything right. I read your speeches and followed your instructions, and we lost.” The sulfuric stench of your despair overwhelmed the lingering traces of wood polish.

I remained calm, which only irritated you. “I told you it was too early. We need to wait for a better opportunity.”

“How can there be ‘better’ than an open seat?” You summoned enough energy to climb to your feet, then paced. Defeat didn’t look good on you. “That guy is a total unknown,” you snarled, pointing at my television where a news show chattered.

“That’s why he won.” I turned off the TV. “The climate now is for people who are not part of the machine. You don’t fit that bill. And now you don’t even have your state seat.” The “I told you so” remained unsaid so it would have more effect.

Six months after taking office the man who beat you died of a sudden heart attack while making an appearance at a local festival. He turned away from an interviewer and pointed to someone who wasn’t there, then clutched his chest and fell to the sidewalk. The reporter performed CPR while the cameraman kept the congressman center frame. Nobody knew a supporting imp had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart until it stopped.

You came to my office to ask if you should try for the seat again. The governor was too indecisive to make appointments and announced a special election.

“You’ll give politicians a worse name than they already have.” Inside I smiled. You’d asked. Whether it was for permission to run or my advice didn’t matter.

“I should be a shoo-in.” Anger flared in your voice. Looking at your bottle of pop you asked, “Do you have anything stronger?”

“You’ll lose again because of your name recognition and previous margin of loss.” I poured a glass of gin – laced with a mild barbiturate – and placed it on a coaster within your reach.

You pounded my desk before taking the drink. “My finances aren’t infinite. I have to keep up my private office, the people working there, my image.” Most important to you was your image.

“Did you want to resort to accepting bribes?” When you gasped in disbelief, I held up a hand to stop your outrage. “I’m not suggesting, only checking.”

You glared at me over the edge of your glass. “I’d never accept a bribe.”

Liar. “It’s tough to keep an office without an income. I could provide money if you’re willing to renegotiate our contract.”

You snorted. “You must be joking. I – we – lost that last election.”

“You ran against my advice. If you’d waited, you’d still be a state senator collecting experience. Right now you’re a has-been party hack. Your investments earn barely enough to pay your bills with nothing left over for maintaining an office in your district.” After a pause I added, “Think about my offer.”

You threw back the rest of your gin and left.

I followed.

When you got to your office you locked the door and fell into your chair. You held your head, sulking. I savored it. Despondent people are easy to manipulate.

“I was supposed to take over the world. I’m the first horseman, riding forth to conquer.” A sob slipped out. The money you’d socked away wouldn’t last long if you weren’t getting handed more from people seeking favors.

You were right where I wanted you.

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The Pirates 5

“You could have chosen from dozens of different cargoes, and you picked tractors?” Penn raged. “Rubineker doesn’t have enough space to even park all that farm equipment.”

Lannetay tried playing dumb. Some men assumed beautiful women weren’t very smart. Since she considered herself to be very good-looking, convincing a man of her stupidity should be child’s play. “Oh, they’ll take our cargo.” She waved away the concern. “If they don’t, we’ll go to another colony that will.”

Trying to feign stupidity while remaining truthful proved difficult. Sieznull’s eye patch would signal her if Lannetay stretched the truth too far.

“She believes they’ll take her cargo,” the woman said, “and doesn’t believe they’ll need to go to another colony.”

Penn paced. Olthan and L-T sat quietly while Cabon and Rantaal stood watch from different angles. Marc, overcoming his shock, scowled his frustration. Carnifor watched everyone like a hawk, and Lannetay had no doubt he’d be ready to take action.

Let me take care of things, Carnifor, Lannetay sent. These folks aren’t the fastest ships in the fleet.

Carnifor grumbled over the implant network but didn’t say anything coherent.

“There are six staterooms,” Rantaal said. “Only five people here.”

Penn stopped walking and snapped his fingers. “That’s right. What happened to your sixth crewman?”

“He recently . . . left the ship,” Lannetay said. “He left without much advance notice. We’ll have a sixth again before too long.”

“If we leave you alive.” Penn’s tone was ominous.

I can’t tell if he’s serious. L-T groused. Can anyone else?

He hasn’t said anything definitive enough to tell one way or the other, Bill sent. Maybe he hasn’t been at this long enough. I can’t even break into their Core to find out – it’s not answering.

Can’t take any chances. Lannetay forced her eyes to widen to affect fear. “You’re not going to kill us, are you?”

Penn preened. “Only if we have to. Take me into your hold and show me your most valuable cargo.” He waved his Grackle to indicate Lannetay should lead the way.

When Sieznull moved to follow, Penn shook his head. “I can take care of her. You three watch the rest of them. I don’t want them getting ideas of escaping.”

If they weren’t armed. . . . Carnifor left the rest unsaid.

Lannetay sent a message to Carnifor alone. Sit. Stay. You will not endanger Marc.

In the corridor aft, Penn paused to count hatchways. “Six staterooms.” Clearly something bothered him about that.

Lannetay opened the airlock to the hold.

When she stepped inside and waited for Penn to enter, he shook his head, smiling. “Open the other hatch. I don’t want to be in tight quarters with anyone.”

She shrugged, tapped out an override code, and stepped through the opposite hatch.

We could trap him in the lock, Bill suggested.

Lannetay frowned to herself. She’d considered it, but there were three others with weapons trained on her crew. No. Too risky. He’d burn his way out in seconds, and Marc might end up being killed.

A narrow aisle led from the hatch toward the cargo doors aft. Very little light reached the decking, since the blazers above were mostly blocked by crates and boxes. Code patterns glowed faintly on each container, indicating what it contained.

“Rantaal wasn’t kidding.” Penn fumed. “Farming equipment. Tillers, planters, harvesters, and up there,” he pointed at the top rank of boxes, “seeds.”

“You can read the codes.” Lannetay was somewhat impressed.

Penn’s cynical smile sent chills down Lannetay’s spine. “Yes.”

Lannetay shook off her dread. “This one is the most valuable.” Lannetay indicated a massive shipping container with a multi-purpose harvester inside. Someone had scrawled on the side of the crate, “Some assembly required.” She smiled, thinking it had to be Marc.

“What’s it worth?” Penn asked.

Lannetay accessed Bill’s database. “Eight thousand credits.”

Penn whistled. “If that one’s worth eight, you must have fifty thousand credits tied up on this cargo.”

“Fifty-two. And change. Most of that borrowed.” The conversation was veering in an uncomfortable direction. Lannetay had to take an active role or end up answering difficult questions. “How is it you can survive simply by hijacking cargo ships?”

Penn wandered down another narrow gap between stacks of containers. “Oh, we don’t usually go after cargo ships. A ship as large as yours heading to Rubineker piqued our interest. My aunt could turn your reason for going into currency.” He holstered his weapon and gave Lannetay a look that said, “You’re not going to do anything anyway.”

“I see.” Lannetay tried to think of a different line of discussion. That she was a spy – or rather a recruiter – would definitely net someone a payday. “What does your aunt do?”

“She owns our ship, as well as a dozen others. Her biggest source of revenue is information.” Penn shrugged. “Piracy wouldn’t pay the bills all by itself. Nobody uses enough cash, and the safeguards on interstellar banking makes robbing too convoluted. Cargo can be tracked so easily it wouldn’t make sense to steal a tractor – even if we had room for it.”

“Your ship is big enough.”

“Not that big. Besides, we’re almost full.” Penn stopped and rapped a knuckle on one container, then another, and a third. “Our scanners say your ship is built with a very impressive space frame. Why’d you do that?”

“Back then I had the money for it, and wanted a ship that would last.” Lannetay forced a dreamy smile to fake thinking of the future. “There will still be a ship to pass on to Marc when I retire, not a clapped-out hulk that can’t take a single standard gravity.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have any hidden compartments in your ‘well-built space frame,’ would you?”

Lannetay smirked. “Of course we do. That’s why we haul tractors. It’s not like you can check our invoices at the drop of a hat or anything.” Truth, of course, but sarcasm deflected that truth.

Penn gave a wry nod and fingered his Grackle – a nervous habit, not a threat.

“So the real reason you stopped us is to find out why we’re taking tractors to Rubineker?”

“Nobody there has money to spend on modern farm equipment, Lanny. The reason you’re doing that could make stopping you very profitable.” Penn shot a hard gaze at Lannetay. “If we don’t get information, we’ll content ourselves with your cargo. Aunt Sorva will be able to sell it somewhere.”

“You said your ship couldn’t take even a single tractor, much less our whole load.” Lannetay waved her hands to indicate the ship’s loadout.

Penn gave a cold smile. “Exactly. We’d have to take your ship, too. Then go to Rubineker to see if we can sort out why you’re willing to gamble more than fifty thousand credits on things their whole economy couldn’t afford.”

Lannetay looked at the deck and calculated. How could she get out of this mess?

If you're wondering more about these characters, their origins are detailed in Ebony Sea: Origins. If you appreciate this story, please share on social media, and consider supporting the author's ability to continue writing by purchasing the Origins story and leaving a review at the link above.