Deep Space, Chapter 1

In the void and darkness of space, nobody can hear you scream... Chapter 1 in a series that I am working on as I try to branch out into Sci Fi

 

If you grow up around ships, if you spend your entire life studying them, working on them, living on them, traveling on them, and eventually acquire a degree in how to make them faster and better, then you know a thing or two about how it should feel to sleep in them.  And this was not the way.

 

Rolling out of the bed that took up the center of the spacious cabin Rebecca padded across the floor to the intercom screen mounted on the wall, watching it change it’s color from flashing blue to deep red.  That was not a good sign.

“Victoria, status.”  Victoria was the ships Artificial Intelligence system, which responded to her voice by bringing up a rolling log of the ships systems and statuses, displaying information about the various components that kept the ship moving through space, and its passengers alive.  Quickly the young woman let her eyes flash across it all, and then she asked again.  “What is going on?”

 

“I believe that we are under attack.  We were pulled out of hyperspace by some sort of gravity well, and it wrecked the forward propulsion drive train assembly.”  The face that appeared was that of a small child, except that it was purple, Victoria’s favorite color.  She was a level 3 Intelligence program, so she had such ideas as favorites.

“Attack?”

 

But Reba did not have time to finish the train of thought, as the door behind her opened, and her massive bodyguard rushed the room.  Morgan was damn near seven feet tall, a side effect of having served in the Imperial Guard for too long, and having been a long time user of the genetic enhancements available to the elite of the Empire, as well as having half your spine replaced by cybernetic parts.

“Ms Andersen, quickly!  We are under attack.  I warned you against…”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

 

Quickly she threw on a robe, and then followed him out into the hallway, turned right up the ramp, left, up another ramp, and then through the archway into the bridge.  All the corridors were bathed in the red emergency lighting, and she could see people purposefully moving to their stations all over the place.  It was clear that the ship had been running with a low crew, as a lot of positions did not need to be manned while in hyperspace, and many of those now sliding into their chairs looked as if they had been sleeping like her.

 

With a sigh, she dropped into a chair at the back of the room, watching everybody work.  She wanted to be down there, along with them, but it was not her place.  She was not a part of the crew.  So she had to stand back and watch.  How frustrating.

 

But life is often frustrating if you are born into the family of the largest shipping manufacturer in the Empire.  Her father, Cornelius Andersen had carried on as the sixth generation of Andersen Heavy Industries to field not only the most advanced fighters and warships for the Imperial War machine, but also sell the large cargo haulers that kept the Empire running, the massive cruise vessels for those rich enough to afford a ride on them, and about a thousand other types of space faring and atmospheric vessels that each threw of handsome profits for her family.  They were the third richest clan in known space, close companions of the Imperial Family, and had access to anything and everything that could be had in known space and beyond.

 

And yet, unlike most of her eight siblings, Rebecca, or Reba for short, had never settled well into the life of wealth.  Her father was rich enough to afford to pay the tax for multiple wives, and she was the last-born of his second wife, and well aware of this fact.  He had never treated any of his children differently, but their mothers had stood in fierce rivalry, and that was not lost on the kids. 

 

She had managed to stay out of the intra-family war for the most part, to fascinated instead by the things her daddy showed her when he took her to the shipyards, falling in love with the big sleek vessels the first day she laid eyes on them.  She lived there when he let her, roamed them, studied them, and rode on them as much as she was allowed to, plus some.  When the time came to decide on higher education, it had been no question that she would go to the Imperial Academy of Science & Mathematics, and study at the Andersen School of Design, named after her great-grandfather, who had founded and funded it after passing the reigns of the company to her grandfather. 

 

For a graduation project she had designed the Orlen class transport ship, named after her beloved uncle, a modern, beautiful vessel that could achieve high sub light speeds, make smooth transitions in and out of hyperspace, made very efficient use of cargo space, utilized all the newest technology available, and could be configured for a wide variety of cargoes in a matter of minutes through a modular loading system.  Capable of atmospheric movement and relatively inexpensive, her father had proudly announced at graduation that he had already accepted offers for well over four hundred of the ships.  That had been a pleasant surprise.

 

So she had begged, pleaded, threatened, and cajoled to go on the maiden voyage of the first one, as it was transported along with a cargo of repair parts to the Hakim Clan that ruled the mining colonies of the Solstices IV system.  She had meet Roland Hakim in school, where he had studied at the College of Mining and Deep Space Construction.  Nice kid, but a true super geek.  He had vacillated between studying astro-physics and deep space mining for a long time, finally settling on a double major.

 

But now it looked as if that journey was in considerable peril.  The bridge was surrounded by three massive flex-plas view screens that allowed one to look out into deep space, but which could also display information as requested by the captain or any other member of the bridge team.  Right now, a lot of those read outs were red.  Being forced out of hyperspace like that was no good for a ship of this size, and while ships had to be able to withstand the tremendous force that such an event created, it was not part of the normal operating routine, and not something she had engineered it for as one would a warship.

 

Looking up at the Captains Command Seat, she watched as Captain Rangaard gave calm commands to the crew, brining the shields up, and the power back on line to all subsystems.  Slowly the indicators went from red to green, and the ship turned away from the two gas giants it was rapidly hurling towards.  She watched where Victoria calculated a new route to their destination, the read out on the far right view screen displaying their new path, and how long it would take. 

 

Suddenly the alarm claxon’s sounded again, and she threw her head around to the left.  Of in the distance, between the gas giants, something was moving.  A red circle surrounded the icon, and a small screen appeared, zooming in on the object.  A black ship was racing towards them.

 

She realized that she was smiling.  She had just won a bet with her oldest brother!  The ship on the screen was jet black, easily blending into the surrounding environment of nothing.  Two banks of massive ION Drive engines could be seen in the blown up image produced by the long range optical sensors, shooting it towards them like a bullet.  One could make out the bulbous fighter hangars on the side, and the bristling weapon pods mounted along the top in two rows, and along the bottom in one.  The only distinguishing mark was a white scorpion at the bow of the vessel, the effect stunning to the eye.  It appeared as if the claws were snapping aggressively and the tail wagging back and forth ready to strike.  So it was true.  The dark ship rumored about so much in the shipping industry did exist.

 

“Turn towards the vessel, full frontal shields, bring all defensive systems on line.  Transmit pirate alert.  Stand by for boarding.”  Captain Rangaard was cool in the face of adversity, one of many reasons her father had chosen him to take the first Orlen completed out.  He had been in three battles with pirates in this life, and he had never lost a ship.  “Prepare engines for sublight jump, Victoria I do not need anything fancy, I just need to get out of here right now.”  He had survived those fights by running away, and that plan was in motion right now.  There was no doubt in his mind that the vessel facing them had enough guns to blast them into particles, and they could probably outrun them in sublight speeds.  So his only option was to jump into hyperspace, recalculate a new jump while conducting the first jump, and then jump before the pirate ship was able to follow them and trace them. 

 

“Aye Captain, I’m working here.”  Even now, the face of the girl that Victoria chose as her own was smiling and jubilant.  Maybe she was not complex or experienced enough to understand the danger facing them.

 

“Captain, they are launching fighters.”  The sensor systems operators’ voice cut through the noise on the bridge as members of a security team took up their stations along the back wall.  If anybody tried to board, they would want the bridge to control the ship from.  It was their job to prevent that. 

 

Reba looked back towards the screen, away from her hulking bodyguard, who was talking quietly with the security team leader.  Four fighters had leapt from each side of the vessel, and were racing towards them.  They came fast, staying well clear of the open lane between the two capital ships, and then it happened.

 

The lasers she had familiarity with flew at the speed of light, dangerous, devastating weapons used in personal combat and close protection, able to snuff out life like flicking a light switch.  She had seen turbo lasers once or twice in her life, unavoidable when growing up in the docks and the shipyards, but that aspect of the business did not really interest her.  It seemed pointless to build these beautiful vessels only so that they could then destroy one another.

 

But now she gained a whole new appreciated for two batteries of Capital Class laser firing at a target in sync.  The green beams seemed to reach out and touch the vessel, shaking it as they struck, tearing through the shields, and causing thunderous explosions as their energy was released upon impact.  Each battery fired in short bursts, and she knew that there was a gunnery computer on the other ship that had seen targets, prioritized targets, and was now destroying those targets.  She wondered what they called their AI.

 

“Ms Andersen, we should…”

“No, I’m staying here.”  She did not bother looking at her guard, knowing fully well that he would argue if she did.  He had been her shadow for almost two years now, and while they had never really developed what might be called a friendship, they understood each other very well.  She felt more then saw him nod, and knew he had reassumed his posture at the back of the room.

 

The ship was coming close now, and she wondered if they might try to ram them.  But then it turned, just as the gunnery officer called out that all defensive systems had been wrecked by the turbo lasers.  She was impressed.  The shields she had designed for the ship were meant to allow maneuvering inside asteroid belts and deep space mining clusters.  Not necessarily designed for combat, but still able to take a heavy beating.  Combined with the point defense suite standard to all AHI vessels and the weapons package that House Hakim had ordered, the ship had once boasted a strong sword.  Now it had broken wings.

 

“Fighters on our rear.  We have lost engines 1, 2, and 6.”  The vessel seemed to shudder as they lost thrust, then list to the side as Victoria adjusted power to keep them on course.

“Vic, I need a jump!”  Rangaard was getting frantic now, and it showed.  Sweat was discoloring his white uniform shirt.

 

“Captain, we have hull breaches in sectors ten, twelve, twenty two, twenty seven, thirty one, two, three, and four.”  Victoria’s voice was acquiring a note of panic.  Subroutines built into each AI were coming to life now, ideas she had never contemplated in her short existence, ideas that required her to shut off sectors of the ship, damning those caught there to the pirates.  It was something most AI’s fight, a fight they are designed to lose rather quickly.

 

“Shunt and over ride.  DO IT NOW!”  Captain Rangaard yelled the last part, understanding this.  AI’s were a blessing, but inexperienced ones could be a curse.  “When can we jump, Vic?”  He grabbed his seat as the vessel shuddered again, and the emergency lighting flickered.

“Captain, we have lost engines three and four, disabled, not destroyed.”

“What?”

“They are disabling us.”  Victoria sounded relieved.  Then the panic really hit her face, the little girl looking scared now.  “Boarders.  Decks one, two, and three.”

 

Behind her, she heard the Security Team leader speak into his radio, so she turned around to look at him.  His men seemed to be clutching their weapons tight, watching the fight develop on the screens ahead.  Looking forward, she saw that deck schematics had come up on the center view screen, displaying where the small teams of boarders were fanning out throughout the ship.

 

“Captain, they have breached back up control.  Moving towards cargo, relay, and the power plant.”  Hank had been an Imperial Marine before deciding that the pay at AHI was better, the benefits comparable, and the equipment superior.  So now he commanded a security team of forty-five, beefed up to ensure delivery of the cargo of expensive spares, and yet a number he knew to be totally inadequate to what he was facing.

“Very well.  Vic, what’s going on with my piracy signal?”

 

But there was no response, and for a second everybody looked up at the screen that had held her face a second ago.  It was blank.  The mood turned really grim now, as the communications officer reported that they were being jammed.  The signal had probably made it out, but who knew.  Suddenly the ship rocked again, and the lighting flickered.  It took a full ten seconds before it was back.

 

Suddenly the noise of combat filled the hallway behind and below them, and the security team moved down the ramp.  Morgan put himself between her and whatever was happening there, and she saw that he had acquired a massive particle beam rifle from somewhere.  The man was full of surprises.

 

There were shouts from below, more gunfire, and then suddenly there was a loud explosion.  Looking around the shoulders of her massive bodyguard, she saw the remaining security guards lining up at the top of the ramp.  Suddenly they tried to scramble aside but it was too late as the rocket reached out and touched them first.

 

The four men that came scrambling up were in black armor not to dissimilar from what the security crew had been wearing, marred by combat.  Without hesitation Morgan fired on them, killing two instantly, and driving the other two back.  A barrage of lasers and particle beams was the answer, and four more rushed up, taking cover at the back end of the room, firing wildly onto the bridge. The crew was forced to seek cover now and abandon their posts, some drawing their own weapons.  Morgan moved forward, then seemed to back up towards her, making her look around him again.

 

She had seen pictures of PRAETORIAN armor before, but never actually seen any in real life.  It was sleek, deadly looking, all black, with the scorpion on the chest again, but this time it seemed to have red, glowing eyes.  The man wearing it was clearly their leader, those around him reacting to his hand and arm signals as he advanced.  Morgan fired twice, but the particle beams seemed to just absorb into the armor.

 

“You are defeated.  Surrender.”  The voice was masked by the armor, sounding deep, roaring, and very dangerous.  Reba moved back, until she stumbled over the steps up to the Captains Chair, falling back onto the steps, seeing Rangaard pull his own pistol.

 

“I would not do that if I were you, Captain.  You will only cause your own death.  Now, lay down your weapons.  This is your last chance.”  He had stopped several steps short of her bodyguard, and for the firs time she noticed that he seemed to have no weapons in his hands.  Not that he seemed to need any.  Mini-missiles were mounted on both legs of the armor, as well as the shoulders.  A multi barreled mini-gun was swiveling back and forth on his right shoulder like a snake looking for prey, and what looked liked the nozzle of a plasma thrower sat on the left.  The head was surrounded by a bulbous cover, which was tinted as to allow no outsider to look in.  But she knew that on the inside was a full HUD display, and if he had access to the full kit, a subroutine of an AI, probably linking him back to the ship.

 

“You first!”  Morgan could see the writing on the wall, but he was not defeated yet.  All members of the Imperial Guard are trained in the use of the Light blade, but she had never known that it was one of the cybernetic enhancements resident to his body.  Well, he had probably never had a reason to use it prior to now.

 

The man lunged forward, surprisingly fast, as the blade appeared, slicing through the air where just a second before the speaker had been standing.  But he was equally quick, probably helped by the armor, leaping aside as the blade chopped through the air.  Morgan did not have time to realize his error, as seven pirates opened fire on the man trying to kill their leader, his body being pulverized almost instantly.

 

There was a subtle signal, or maybe it was something that came over their radios, or just a reaction.  But the pirates opened fire, storming forward, slaughtering the crew where they stood.  She heard scattered resistance as she curled up on the floor, waiting for the blast that would find her, screaming as everybody around her died.  She somehow still had her eyes open and watched as Captain Rangaard was perforated by lasers fired from the armored strangers shoulder cannon.  Then she passed out.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Stinger had a well-deserved reputation for being the deadliest pirate ship prowling the Sol Imperium and beyond.  Not only had no prey ever escaped, but very few ever survived an encounter to tell about it.  The pirates tended to blame this on their victims.  After all, they broadcasted calls on open channels for everybody to lay down their weapons, return to their cabins, and stay out of the way.  Not their fault that very few ships captains were paying attention to those channels, and so did not pass the good word.  And if you were in the way, or looked as if you were in the way, might get in way, thought about the way, or even looked at the way, you got killed.  It was a brutal business, and they were not in the habit of taking unnecessary chances.  Simple as that.

 

But today was different.  Today they had killed everybody aboard because that is what the contract stipulated.  It was not a new experience for them to hit vessels because they had been paid to do so, but rarely was the point to steal the ship.  But that was what was going on here.

 

The bridge crew watched as the tractor ship appeared from behind the gas giant, slowly coming closer, its magnetic clamps crackling with barely contained power.  What it lacked in speed, it made up for in hyperspace drives and push capacity.  Designed to transport vessels crippled in combat back to a spaceyard that could conduct proper repairs, it would use those clamps to attach to the much larger Orlen class ship, and jump with it to wherever the buyers wanted to take it.  But they were not getting it all.

 

“Captain, AI transfer complete.”  The Communications Officers station was one of four that sat directly in front of the Captains Chair, making it clear to everybody here how important his job was.  The captain nodded, his face partially obscured by the breathing mask that Elai Aram used to breathe.  Being from the ice planet Moltar, which was coated in a methane atmosphere, he used the mask whenever he moved in the oxygen filled spaces of the ship.

 

“Very well.  Bring us to initial point, and prepare for launch sequence.  Stinger, prepare for jump.”  Naming the AI and the ship the same thing was a bit simplistic, and could be confusing in conversation, but it had not been his idea.  The man whose idea it had been walked onto the bridge as the scorpion on the screen above responded by snapping her claws twice.

 

“How goes it?”  The bubble that normally protected Markus Walkers face had retracted, and his youthful features were now visible.  His dark hair was cut in the crew cut that was so fashionable amongst his pirates, brown eyes sparkling with his success. 

“We have the AI, the tractor is docking now.”

“The engines went down, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”  Elai was a victim of the military society of Moltar, as his boss put it, and so he could not bring himself to not speak in clipped, military terms.  “They won’t know it’s gone until it’s too late.”

“Not that it matters.  Once they dock, jump.”

 

The pilot reported that they were at initial point.  From here, the engines would boost them to the jump point, and they would enter hyperspace.  The idea was to stop just short of your jumping point, making it that much harder for anybody to track you by your ion signature.  Sure, their ECM/ECCM suite was top of the line, but that did not mean anything.  S**t happened.  The Imperial Fleet might well be on its way here now.

 

“You brought back a visitor?”  Elai might be military, but his commander was forever encouraging him to be more cross, and so it seemed appropriate.

“Sure did.  She was cute.  It’ll be fun.”

“Humans are an odd species.  So self destructive.”

“We can’t all be ice queens.”  He grinned at his best friend, and watched as the tractor docked to the disabled ship.  “Thar she blows.  Stinger, lets roll.”

 

The scorpion snapped her claws again, and the ship seemed to lurch, then become still as they entered hyperspace.  Markus rolled his neck back a bit, always a sign to Elai that he had activated the connection in the base of his neck that linked him to the armor, and through it, to the ship.  When his lips moved, it boomed through the 1MC of the entire vessel, audible to all.

 

“Now hear this.  Now hear this.  Our attack was successful.  Yet, seven of our brothers fell in the operation.  We will pay our proper respects at the appropriate time.  All sections conduct full post operation check out, report once complete.  Good job to all.  That is all.”  His head returned to a more natural position, and the young man seemed to relax.  He had worn the implant in his spine for seven years now, but he was still not used to it.  Some claimed one could never fully accept it, and many were driven mad by it.  But they were not the sons of Jeremiah Walker.

 

“I’m going to turn all this in.  Chow?”  It was a rhetorical question.  After every operation, all the officers dined together in the mess, with the exception of whoever stood Bridge Watch at the time.  Elai nodded, and his friend turned, walking down the ramp of the bridge.  “Good job today.  Feel free to use a word of praise with your bridge team.”

 

The pirates parted ways as he moved into the bowels of the ship, even as he stopped and spoke with some of them, shaking hands, patting them on the back, smiling wherever he went.  He knew the name of every crew member, what they did, and how they had come to serve on his ship. 

 

He reached the armory shortly, stripping out of his armor.  Placing it on the rack that descended from the ceiling, he watched it get dipped in the solvent tank, and then slowly remerge.  The soft bristle brushes extended from the cleaning rack, scrubbing it, before it got dunked again, then blow-dried.  His eyes tracked the arm as it retracted up, placing it in the chute that would take it back to his stateroom.  Like all his officers, he kept his armor and weapons in his own room, and only brought them down to the armory for cleaning and maintenance.  Some pirate captains always were armed aboard their ships.  He saw no point in it.  If his crew of over six hundred tried to mutiny, what would he do?

 

Heading back up the ramp now dressed in only his skin suit, he jogged the emergency stairs back up to the bridge deck, casting a quick glance onto the brain of the ship.  The massive screens that enclosed the bridge were still filled with the lines that the stars formed when traveling in hyperspace.  They would be that way for the next two days, as they skirted around the edges of Imperial space towards their destination.

 

Turning away from a sight he loved he walked down the hall towards his stateroom  All his top officers had their cabins here, staff on the right, and section leaders on the left.  His lay at the very end, and the security system recognized him as he came, Stinger winking at him from the screen above the door as she opened it.  The AI’s normal persona was a ferocious looking desert scorpion native to Markus home planet of Asmteram, but when she wanted to, she could become a rather soft looking freshly hatched scorpion, more friendly then ferocious.  Markus was not sure why the AI did that, but he did not ask, either.  The program was older then he was, and had seen a lot more.

 

His cabin actually consisted of a suite of connected rooms.  The central one he had just stepped into served as a combination living room, place to entertain, and dining room.  If you went straight through, you stepped into his study, which doubled as an office (he had another one right of the bridge).  To the right was a guest room, with its own bath, currently occupied by his guest.  To the left was his bedroom & bathroom loft.  A kitchen was concealed behind a fake wall that could move in and out, as well as a half bath for those he entertained.  He loved to cook, something that Stinger had a hard time understanding.  Why bother when there was a galley producing enough food to feed everybody on the ship and then some?

 

He considered checking in on his visitor, but instead walked into his bathroom, shedding his layers as he went.  “Stinger how is our guest?”

 

The voice that answered was conversational, and he knew the AI wanted to know why the woman was here.  The program modeled its tone based upon whom it was talking to, their mood, and the topic at hand.  “She’s fine.  Still sleeping.  I think the medic was a bit overzealous in his application of the sleeping agent.”

“How are her vitals?”

“She will be fine.  Why did you not want her transferred to the brig?”

“Why, she is our guest, of course.”  Markus stepped into the shower, feeling the hot water rinse the sweat of his body.

 

Many could not get used to the idea of conversing with an AI in the shower, on the toilet, or many other intimate places, especially men as most AI’s were female to go with the theme of lady ships.  The thought made no sense to him, knowing fully well that Stinger saw, heard, smelled, and knew about everything that went on aboard the ship.  So they had some of their best conversations in the shower.

 

“She clearly did not belong on the vessel, she was not in uniform.  She had a bodyguard, one armed with a light blade, and who had been augmented by high-grade cybernetics.  I mean, good thing I don’t skip to many workouts or anything like that.  I was about to be filet de pirate.” 

“The armor would have protected you.  I would have protected you.”  Stinger sounded almost offended.  Markus knew that at this very moment the subroutine that had been housed in his armor was being erased, and Stinger was coming up with a brand new one.  It was the AI’s way of responding to such things, an almost jealous action.

“Maybe.  Anyways, anybody with a bodyguard like that comes from money.  Any success yet on that front.”

“I think I have it, I want to check a couple more things first.  The way the information is protected tells me much.”

 

Markus smiled in frustration as he stepped out of the shower, feeling the room temperature rise just so slightly to keep him comfortable, as the mirror defogged.  He could tell Stinger to display what she knew in his reflection, but why?  The program was thorough and would produce a better product this way.  Tapping into information while traveling through hyperspace was no picnic either, and he knew that.  “Take your time.  What’s for dinner?”

 

“BBQ Chicken, rice pilaf, and vegetable medley for our human crew members, a stew of native herbs, plants, and fish for the Aram, and one of the bronco’s for the Doren.  Drink of the night is Curacao Blue in three shades.  All sections reported post ops complete while you were in the shower.”  After every successful operation, each pirate not on duty section was authorized three mixed drinks.  One did not have to drink them, but they could not be transferred either, ensuring nobody got to drunk but everybody got to let their hair down a bit. 

 

“Very nice.  Secure the ship to liberty quarters, will you?  Lay out a suit for me, too, if you don’t mind.”  For whatever reason he was cordial to the program, a trait that Stinger appreciated, even though Markus did not know that.  He did it because his father had done it, and he idolized the man.  So to him Stinger was another member of the crew, if a very trusted and influential member.

 

It was always odd to hear his own voice echo through the ship when he was not speaking, but ever since he had first discovered the trick, he had gotten used to it.  Once he had been sick for a week, unable to speak from a bad attack of throat fever, acquired from a raid upon a medical transport carrier.  But through Stinger, he had still managed to communicate clearly with the crew and ship, and nobody ever knew that he was damn near on his deathbed.  Good for morale.

 

The officers sat in descending order along the long table, his most senior next to him on the T, the rest filing down away from him.  They stood at rigid attention as he entered, then sat down when he did.  The robots moved smoothly from the bottom of the table to the top placing plates and drinks before withdrawing to the cabinet to leave them in peace.  What happened behind closed doors with the officers of the Stinger stayed here.

 

As was usual, they went down the line, everybody getting to say their piece about the operation, the good, the bad, and the ugly.  They did this alone so that nobodies’ feelings got hurt, and that everybody could air their thoughts in the way they felt appropriate.  It was often a sort of blood letting, and emotions commonly got heated, but this one had been smooth and that was the consensus.

 

Elai was the last to speak, being the Captain of the ship.  He thanked all the bridge officers for the good job they had done, admonished the fighter squadron head to make sure next time that the birds launched precisely on their mark time, not four seconds late, and then finished by highlighting that the operation had succeeded, their plan had worked, their rehearsals had helped, and they had come away with less casualties then expected, and in less time then contracted.

 

“There is one thing, and I think you are all thinking it.  I’ll be the one to say it.  Our guest?”  He looked at his close friend, and Markus smiled.

“Ladies and gentlemen, yes as the Captain points out, we have a guest now.  I brought back a hostage, if we want to call her that.  When we entered the bridge she was there, protected by a bodyguard armed with a light blade.  I made the decision to bring her back, intrigued by this turn of events.”

“We were contracted to kill everybody aboard.”  That would be Melanie, whose job was all functions related to the logistics of keeping the operation running, including contracting.  She had once held a highly placed job in the Imperial administration doing just that, but then she had fallen in love with a pirate.  Damndest thing. 

“We were also contracted to deliver the entire ship, including the AI,” Markus retorted, letting his words marinade about the room for a minute.  “Once we went down the road of deception, I do not believe this matters in the grand scheme of things.  She is valuable, I believe probably more valuable then the vessel we just stole and delivered.”

 

There was silence around the table for a second, and then Elai spoke again.  “What will we do with her?”

“Once Stinger discovers her identity we will prepare to ransom her off.”  Markus took a sip from his drink, and then leaned forward, looking down the long table.  “Gents, the ship that we attacked today was better armed then we were told it would be.  We were ready for that, and it worked out.  It had more, and better guards then our information told us.  We had some serious problems out there.  And I believe that this young woman is one of the keys to these problems.”  There was no further argument on the point, and he moved on to the next topic.

 

“Now, what our information did tell us was that the vessel was equipped with a highly advanced AI subroutine inside the AI running the ship, the highly touted split personality function that we have been hunting for what now…two years?”  He looked up and down the table, watching everybody nod their heads in slow unison.  “There will be blowback for us stealing it.  But again, we agreed it would be worth the risk.  This is our new focus of effort, delivering the subroutine and making enough money to put us all into retirement.”

 

Reba came to slowly, the illumination in the room rising with her quickening pace, until it was back to its normal self, and she opened her eyes, looking around as she slipped into consciousness and sat up on the bed.  She was in a stateroom, she realized as she drank in the ornate surroundings, a stateroom bigger then the one she had awoken in…how many hours ago?  Her eyes settled upon the back bulkhead of the room, made up of one massive window where she watched the stars stretch into infinity.  They were in hyperspace, she told herself, traveling to only god knew where. 

 

She took another look around, inventorying her luxury accommodations as she went.  The walls were wood paneled in expensive looking mahogany.  She stood up on the soft, plush carpet that muffled her steps, her fingers reaching out and touching the smooth, silky surface of one of the four chairs that surrounded the small dining area in the corner.  Quality work, she thought, as good as the stuff at home.  She realized her watch was gone, and looking down at herself she realized she was still in her robe and night gown, but all her jewelry had been removed.  There was a fresh looking puncture mark on her right arm.  They sedated me, she thought.

 

Ok, relax, she commanded herself.  Where am I?  Sitting again on the massive bed she looked out the panoramic windows that took up the back of the cabin.  The stars were stretched, they were in hyperspace she told herself again.  Where are we going is probably a better question, she thought to herself.  Looking to her right she once more inventoried the room, the small seating arrangement next to a very modern looking entertainment suite, a closet recessed into the wall, and a wet bar.  To her left the table and dining corner, a closed door, and an open door that seemed to lead to a bathroom.  That seemed appropriate.

 

Returning to the stateroom, she investigated several of the pieces of holoart placed on the wall.  Each was an expensive original, she knew of most of the artists, and she wondered where the pirates might have stolen these from.

 

Walking over to the coffee table that faced the windows, she picked up a copy of Imperial Affairs.  Again she wondered how this had gotten here.  The leather bound volumes were hard enough to get a hold of for those with the proper access and money.  Flipping it open, the first page displayed a holoimage of a pirate ship firing on an unsuspecting cargo cruiser.  She remembered this edition.  She had written a paper on it at school, about how the news media overstated the risk of piracy, when the Imperium was clearly in control of the matter.

 

She almost wanted to laugh out loud.  Had she been correct, and just unlucky?  Or had her family just bought the party line on what the Emperor wanted them to believe?  Dropping onto the couch, she flipped through it, finding the page with ease.

 

Yes, there where the paragraphs in dispute.  Reports of a black ship, painted with a scorpion, raiding high value cargo vessels, not afraid to go up against small Imperial Police Cruisers, outfitted with massive engines that allowed her to outrun anything it could not outfight, and enough guns and fighters to outfight anything it could not outrun. 

 

The Imperial Police Services, Imperial Navy, and all other agencies involved in the fight against piracy and crime in deep space had protested the report, stating that such a ship did not exist, that there were pirate vessels painted black, sure, but none that were this capable, that it was a galactic myth, a dream perpetuated by those that aim to undermine the Empire.

 

Maybe it was the hidden romantic in her that had wanted to believe, and so she had bet her brother, himself an officer in the Navy.  How unfortunate that she had been right, she now realized.  Putting down the magazine, she stood again, and walked over to the data terminal mounted next to the closed door.

 

“Welcome aboard.  I am Stinger, the artificial intelligence of this vessel.”  The voice was warm and welcoming, yet there was a hint of menace there that Reba detected.

“Who…”

“Do not concern yourself with that right now.  You will meet your host, my master, soon enough.  Are you hungry?  Are you feeling any sort of after effects from the sedation?  Do you need medical attention?”

 

The questions made her reel, so she just nodded.  Seemingly in response, one of the wooden panels in the wall disappeared, and a small robot buzzed out, hovering towards the table that ran down the center of room, and setting out two trays of fruit and other light fare.  Did not want to upset her recently medicated stomach, she figured.  But she was in no mood to eat.

 

“Where are we going?”

“I am sorry, I am not at liberty to reveal our destination.”  The AI was still charming, but now the screen was displaying the same scorpion she had seen on the ship that attacked her freighter, and she guessed she was still aboard the pirate ship.

“What happened to…”

“They are all dead.  You are the only survivor.”

“Why…what…”  The shock hit her like a punch in the stomach, and she sunk to her knees.  The tears followed.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The small constellation of vessels drifted in space, pointed towards the four planets slowly circling the dieing sun of the system.  His scientists told him that it was only a couple millennia away from really getting ugly in these parts, but he did not concern himself with such things.  By then these rocks would have been stripped of everything of value, and his descendants would have long moved on. 

 

The lights on the bridge were dim, to go with them being in the shadow of Antarus IV, the largest of the planets.  They would only emerge out into the full radiation effect of the sun when they had to make their jump, and only if the computers could not find another route. 

 

“Attention on the bridge, attention on the bridge.  We have incoming hyperspace vessel.”  That was his communications section, reporting what the Magnus was telling them.  It was the only of the four ships he had out here that had enough sensory power to detect such things.  A smile curled up on his lips as he watched the rip in time, space, and matter occurred, and the tractor ship come into view.  The massive magnetic waves keeping his prize trapped seemed to buckle and strain against the sudden deceleration, but then the ship slipped into the shadows between the vessels awaiting its arrival, and broadcast the all clear signal.

 

“Sir, your shuttle awaits.”  Hank was more then a bodyguard, he was a trusted personal assistant and advisor, who followed his boss back through the bridge, into the lift, and out into the shuttle bay.  Two Raptor Fighters were hovering just outside the fighter bay, and when his personal shuttle launched towards the Tractor, they followed.

 

The captain of the ship was waiting on him in the small hangar, and they walked right to the tractor transfer, and where transported to the new ship.  Members of the crew were still busy at working cleaning up the battle damage, and bodies in bags were stacked in several places.

 

“So give me the good news.”  Standing on the bridge, he smiled, looking around.  It was what he had expected, what he had dreamed off.  How impressive.  And well below market price.  When the captain said nothing, he turned to look at him, and the man shook his head.  “What do you mean?”

“The AI is gone.  The girl is not amongst the dead.”

“WHAT?”

 

Everybody shrunk back except for Hank, who fixed the tractor captain in an icy glare.  The man shrugged, waving his hand across the room.  “We have photographed them all, and are taking DNA samples.  But it does not look good.  As for the AI…the pirates must have ripped it before they left.  They shut down the computer core almost as soon as they came aboard, but they did not remove any components.”  Or so he thought, he did not add.

 

“This was a known danger when working with them.”  Hank did not add that he had counseled against it, and he did not need to.  His boss nodded.

“Deal with it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Reviews

[augustus]

My Goodness! The writers of Star Trek and Doctor Who had better watch out! That dear Author is without doubt stuff of the future! Fascinating reading and well written!