The Star Pirate's Folly (18 page)

Guilty tears welled up in her eyes, a hot rush that took her
by surprise. Out of habit she tried to wipe them away, but instead smacked a
gloved hand against her visor and the droplets spilled down her cheeks. Feeling
stupid, Bee bit her lip and tried to watch through the tears.

“It’s okay, it was probably for the best anyway. Looks like
you got out of here right in time. There are just a few things I would have
liked to say before you went. I don’t know where you’ve been or where you’re
going and I never asked. But let me tell you something, Bee.” Hargrove leaned
in close enough for her to see the corners of his eyes crease up as he smiled.
“Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I’m just glad to have helped you on your
way. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders—keep that chin up and you’ll go a
long way.”

The video ended.

Two-Gut Gruce grabbed Hargrove by the collar and hauled the
big man to his feet. With a hostage he had some bargaining power. If Starhawk
was still around they had a chance, but without a ride off planet Gruce knew
they’d be corpses soon. “Pluck, check our exit.”

Pluck glided off to the tiny hidden gate.

Gruce powered on his comms and opened the channel to
Starhawk as he forced his prisoner to limp into the room he’d come out of on
his wounded leg. Two-Gut swept the room for danger, found nothing. More
troopers would be on the way—they’d need somewhere more defensible. If the
shelter door held they could go back but otherwise they’d be stuck topside in a
city full of angry guns.

“Boss, Gruce here. Got a hostage—it’s the guy who bagged
Lee. We’re pinned inside the city. Do I have an out?”

Moments crawled by. No response. After a week of suspended communications
Gruce feared Starhawk was either dead or gone. Even alive he might be in no
position to help. But without extraction he and Pluck had no hope. Gruce cursed
himself for letting Starhawk hound him into an alliance. He would have been
better off sticking with the Family back in the belt instead of following
Starhawk into the meat grinder.

“You promised me a map.” Starhawk broke the silence at last.

Gruce contained as best he could the combined flood of
relief and terror Starhawk’s voice brought on, conscious of the fact that he’d
failed his original mission. “City’s too hot. Couldn’t get in. Maybe if
Jensen—”

“I hear excuses. The only thing I want from you is that
map.”

“We can’t—we’re barely alive, been hiding out for days with
nothing me and Pluck we can’t—”

“You’re blubbering, you useless old walrus. I knew I
couldn’t trust you to do this yourself.” Starhawk made an angry growl. “Still
have a few good birds planetside but the carriers are getting slagged in orbit
keeping us covered. With a hostage we can call for a ceasefire, make demands.
Unless you want to rest your eyes for a while?”

Gruce ignored the sarcasm, too fatigued for confrontation.
“I’m ready.”

“That dirtwalker might know something about Lee and the map.
Find out what. Rough him up a bit, blood and bruises. And send your camera
feed. I need something for these inner-world maggots to be afraid of.”

“Heard, boss,” Gruce said as he linked up to Starhawk.

Pluck’s shrill voice broke in. “Found another little Core
sheep!”

“Bring it here, we’ll see what they know. What about our
exit?”

“Had to close it up tight, all full of tin men. Left them a
nasty surprise to shut the other ring—the last of our grenades.”

“Good, Pluck. Good boy, come back here now.”

***

Starhawk aboard his warship
Deep Fog
circled above
the dome of Overlook City with his remaining fleet. Hovering in limbo between
the massive orbital guns and the city’s defenses was their only option while
they waited for the map.

“Fine citizens of the Core,” Starhawk said into his helmet,
pausing for dramatic effect as he began the recording. “I, the Starhawk, free
man and proud pirate, have captured one of your pirate-killers. Our only hope
in coming here was to get our man Jensen Lee back home safe. Again I extend the
offer. I want his body returned to us with his armor. Though far from a fair
trade we’re willing to exchange him for Lee’s body. If not—”

“Boss, the orbit guns got a lock on us,” a panicked pilot’s
voice screeched in Starhawk’s ear, interrupting his take. “Scatter, right? Scatter?”

“Keep formation!” he roared, flecks of spit dotting his
visor. “They can’t fire on us from orbit without hitting the city, you
nullskull! Any one of you even
thinks
of breaking away I’ll cut you in
half.”

Starhawk clenched his gauntleted fist, seething at the
thought of his grand opportunity being squandered. Everything hung on Two-Gut’s
pudgy slumped shoulders.

He cast aside his doubts and continued his recording where
he’d left off. “If not you’ll have put my back to the wall. I’ll have no choice
but to come for Jensen Lee myself. We leave no man behind. These are your
options. Choose wisely.”

The feed from Gruce’s helmet camera took up a small square
of Starhawk’s lens display. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Gruce
leaned in close to the quivering hostage to get a detailed shot of his battered
face. Hargrove arched away from the armored pirate as much as he could in the
chair he was tied to. Swelling on the right side of his face had his eye nearly
shut completely. Blood trickled from a split lower lip.

“Good, that’ll work fine,” Starhawk said. “Get what you can
from him and keep him alive. We’ll need him to get out of here.”

Combining his recording and the footage of Hargrove into one
video, Starhawk broadcast his message on all common channels. Anyone listening
would pick it up and everyone in the Core had to have an ear out for his
messages. Starhawk watched Gruce’s feed as the exhausted pirate knocked the
hostage around with several armored slaps.

“Tell me what you know about Slack Dog,” Gruce blasted from
his suit’s external speakers.

“Go on, you brutes,” Hargrove groaned. “Do what you want, I
won’t breathe a word. Go on then.”

“Here’s the other,” Pluck sang as he forced a man in an
identical jumpsuit onto his knees next to Hargrove.

“That one’s a fabricant, you moron,” snapped Starhawk. “A
Robert model, I’ve seen them before. Spike him for data, he’s no use as a
hostage.”

Pluck gasped, drawing the data spike from his belt. “I never
knew! Looked so real I never knew I never knew. Let’s see what
you
know,
dearest.”

“What are you doing?” demanded Hargrove as Pluck advanced on
Robert626. “Stop that. You don’t need to do that. Please.”

No response from the little man as he raised the spike in
the air, the attached cord a black snake dangling in the air. Robert626 locked
eyes with Hargrove and said, “We’ll come for you, brother.”

Pluck grabbed Robert626 by the hair and forced his head down
before plunging the spike into the base of the fabricant’s neck. White viscous
fluid seeped from the wound and Robert626 spasmed, held in place as Pluck let
go of the spike to grip him by the shoulders. Hargrove shouted with horror,
toppling over in his chair as he struggled to break free of his restraints.

“Oh dearest—this one… this one’s ripe with knowing,” Pluck
said with a euphoric slur. He swayed as he stood, muttering incoherently over
the channel. Suddenly Pluck slid the spike free, dropped the twitching
fabricant, and stabbed a finger at Hargrove. “He sent a message to Optima! A
privateer ship.”

“Privateers,” Starhawk growled. “Dirtlicking
privateers
.”

“Not just any,” Pluck said. “It’s
Wanderlust
.”

Starhawk crowed with laughter. “Anson! Of course it’s Anson!
Of all the privateer crews in the system—this is fate, boys, no question. What
did he say?”

“Just lovey-dove nonsense to some girl. She left with
Wanderlust
before we came.”

“Find out who she is.”

Pluck sifted through Robert626’s memories starting with the
stored visual feed of most recent events, stopping where necessary to inspect
certain sequences more closely. He licked his lips, nearly slobbering as he
pored through the data stockpile from the dead fabricant. So much delicious—so
many files—he saw through Robert626’s eyes the video of a girl who boarded
Wanderlust
.
She left shortly after, followed by a man from the ship. He grabbed her, they
fought, and when the alarms on the station started she fled with the man from
Wanderlust
.

Farther back the fabricant had seen surveillance videos from
the hotel. More of the girl—they must have been looking for her. She had to be
important to have them sniffing around topside under bombardment. In another
video she served drinks behind a bar, talked to a patron. Pluck recognized the
man as he stood with a drunken stagger—Slack Dog! The video flashed forward and
showed the girl leave the bar briefly, returning to pick something up off the
bar. A datapad.

“The girl spoke with Slack Dog, took his pad. She could have
a copy of the map Jensen missed. Sending vids now.”

Starhawk watched what Pluck saw. “Find out for sure. If
they’ve got another copy I’ve got some grubs on Optima who can relieve them of
it.”

“The girl took Slack Dog’s pad with her off planet,” Pluck
said. “Sold it to the privateers—and for a good chunk of coin, too. Nothing
here to tell where after that though.”

“Anson. Had to be Anson.” Starhawk growled and slammed his
fist against his knee. “Can’t be a coincidence. Keep looking, Pluck. Find out
where they’re headed after Optima. We’re going after them, this city’s a lost
cause. Hold tight boys, we’ll get you out of there. We’ll need to trade that
hostage for safe passage.”

Gruce whirled on Hargrove and yanked him upright in the
chair as Gruce’s speakers boomed, “The girl you sent the message to! Where’s
she going after Optima?”

Hargrove snapped to attention. Bee. He shook his head in
defiance. “If I knew I wouldn’t help you. They’re going to come for you, all of
you. You won’t get away.”

The glob of spit oozed down the pirate’s faceplate. Gruce
dug armored fingers into Hargrove’s shoulder with one hand, made a fist with
the other, and jabbed a weak punch into the man’s gut. A strike even
approaching full force could easily kill an unarmored target. Hargrove doubled
over, coughing and gasping for breath.

Governor Strump breathed in deep through his nose and
exhaled between thinly parted lips. His gaze flicked across the screens on the
wall of his quarters aboard
Aristeia
. Between them he had live video
from the orbital station, the hotel in Overlook City, and several satellites
which tracked Starhawk’s ships above the city.

Overlook City police, along with a smattering of privateers
and local militia, had the Midtown Hotel surrounded. Above the city Starhawk’s
remaining warships circled beyond reach of attack, yet kept close enough to
prevent being targeted by the planet’s orbital guns.

Strump’s pad buzzed on a desk nearby. An incoming video call
from Surface, unregistered. He swallowed and picked it up.

“This is the Governor,” he answered.

“This is the Starhawk.”

A frigid fist closed in the Governor’s gut. “How—”

“Yes, Strump, I know exactly where you are. I want a manual
off-grid shuttle outside that hotel in one hour or my grubs crush your hero’s
skull,” Starhawk said. “I’ll agree to a ceasefire in exchange for his life as
long as we’ve got a guarantee we can leave Surface now untouched. Let them out
of the city and you’ll never see us again.”

“You killed my fellow citizens. You bombed my home. You’re
not going anywhere.” Governor Strump struggled to infuse his words with a tone
of barely contained simmering rage, conscious that
Aristeia’s
main
computer had no doubt notified the Captain of the intrusion and recorded the
conversation.

“And you killed most of my men,” Starhawk said. “We’ve both
taken losses, Strump. Let’s not spill any more blood. A ceasefire in exchange
for one manual off-grid shuttle and safe passage off planet or your hometown
hero dies.”

“Absolutely not. You know we don’t negotiate with pirates.”

“Life is negotiation. If you don’t let us go, we’ll
broadcast his execution over the public airwaves. We’ve got no reason to play
nice. What’ll it be? You want to see him die?” Hargrove’s face popped onscreen
in graphic detail, mottled bruises under streaks of fresh blood.

“Don’t kill him!” Strump yelled. “Don’t kill him.
We’ll—we’ll consider your demands.”

The Governor sagged with relief when the pad’s screen
blacked out. He’d swapped it for a new one before he left Surface—how could
it…? His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair. The real threat wasn’t
killing the hostage, it was exposing Strump’s involvement with the pirates, the
Core Fleet excursion, everything. He’d fallen right into the pirate’s trap,
unable to refuse his demands without giving up everything he’d spent his life
working for.

At least the hostage gave him a decent argument. The thought
gave him hope but Strump cursed himself for his weakness. A stronger leader, a
nobler leader, would refuse even in the face of complete personal ruin. But he
would never have made it to the Governor’s office if he was a different man.

It should have worked. And it did, for a while. He won
reelection after the drastic reduction of pirate raids following the Core
Fleet’s excursion led to an economic boom which promised years of safety and prosperity
for the Core. Of course he suspected there would be hidden costs, but he never
imagined—!

“Captain Nguyen has requested you speak with Admiral Perry
on the bridge, Governor,” Gim said from near the door.

Strump flinched. He’d forgotten the fabricant. “Yes, of
course.”

Everything hinged on this conversation. They wanted it all
on Record. Governor Strump straightened his back and smoothed his hair against
his scalp before accompanying Gim to the bridge. No one suspected his
involvement with Starhawk—that he knew of—so he at least had that assurance as
he marched through the halls of
Aristeia
. If he wanted to keep it that
way he’d have to let the pirates go. Starhawk would expose him if he felt his
back against the wall.

After the destruction the pirates brought it would not be a
popular proposition among the brass of the Core Fleet. But Starhawk’s
high-value hostage changed the rules. A broadcast of the man’s execution would
cause massive public outcry and shake Core citizens’ faith in their government.
The whole excursion into the belt was a mistake, left their defenses weak.
Heads would roll if they didn’t contain the chaos.

Yes, that sounded convincing. Best to appeal to fear, make
them think about their own skins instead of directing blame. Strump organized
the argument in his head, talking through the points he’d have to highlight.
Planning made him feel solid even when everything seemed to be in free fall.

***

“What’s your involvement?” Gruce shouted.

“You bombed my hotel,” gasped Hargrove.

“And you killed Jensen Lee! How do you explain that? You a
privateer too?”

One eye swollen shut, blood leaking from torn skin, Hargrove
wheezed and let out a laugh which turned to coughing. “Idiot left the door
open.”

Pluck chimed in on Gruce’s channel. “Got us surrounded.
Troopers, militia, police. They’ll send a team in soon.”

“Boss is working on our exit,” Gruce said, projecting
confidence he didn’t feel. “We’ll get out.”

Pluck whined his displeasure at being trapped before
dropping from the channel. Gruce crouched and squeezed the laser wound in
Hargrove’s leg, drawing howls of pain as charred scabs cracked open and seeped
bloody pus. “Tell me what you know about the map.”

Hissing between clenched teeth, Hargrove again shook his
head. “You’re after Bee. I’m not telling you a damned thing.”

“Suit yourself,” Gruce said as he let go. Hargrove groaned
and sagged with relief. “You’ll talk eventually. Once we get out of here you’ll
talk to Starhawk. You’ll tell him everything. They always talk to him.”

“They won’t just let you leave.”

“You just wait and see.” Gruce opened the channel to
Starhawk. “Tough bastard. He won’t say anything. What we got from the fabricant
is as much as we know.”

“Fine,” he said. “Keep your guard up.”

***

Governor Strump found it helpful sometimes to look at the
forehead instead of directly into a superior’s eyes while under reprimand.
Admiral Perry, commander of Surface’s lone orbital space station, glared with
such crushing force between his eyebrows that they quaked and strained against
each other as they vied for dominance. Strump dropped his gaze to the floor of
the bridge as the seasoned war veteran berated him.

“I have been insistent from the beginning that the Core
Fleet remain a defensive measure,” Admiral Perry said. “Their involvement in
this fiasco is a stain on my reputation as much as yours—and indeed, on the
Fleet itself. Not in the Core’s entire history has there ever been an
undetected sustained assault like this. By all the damned stars, Strump,
they’re
sieging the city
! And they’re beating us! We were completely
unprepared for this and I expect a full investigation of this incident on your
return, Governor. This is a highly irregular breach of protocol. All contact
should be handled in the light of the Record.”

“Of course I agree, Admiral,” Strump said, deferring with a
bow of the head. “We must find out where the blind spots in our defenses are to
prevent another attack. The datapad was somehow infected before I left
Surface.”

Perry continued his offensive but shifted targets. “We’re
just lucky we haven’t lost more civilians. These kinds of mistakes are
disgraceful—and thus far have not been isolated incidents. Captain Nguyen, how
could you allow a compromised device past your security?”

The black-and-blue clad Core Fleet captain stood ramrod
straight beside Strump, mortified at being admonished in front of his crew.
“Apologies, sir. In our hurry to return to Surface we did not adhere to
standard inspection protocols. It won’t happen again.”

“A foolish mistake like that should
never
happen. As
for the conversation you had with Starhawk, Governor, it should be obvious we
can’t let them leave. We have no guarantee that he would keep his word after we
let him go. One man’s life is not worth allowing an injustice like this attack
to go unanswered.”

“Myself and the rest of the Core Fleet are still ten hours
from Surface space. We can’t just throw a man’s life away, especially not a man
willing to go to such lengths to protect his fellow citizens. He’s a hero, sir,
and the only positive outcome we’ve seen from this situation. The people love
him. If the pirates are offering to leave without killing anyone else, I
propose we at least consider the option. They’ve got the upper hand
here—Starhawk circling the city with warships, two carriers in low planetary
orbit above, and if we hit them with the orbital guns the wreckage will likely
do more damage to the city. Meanwhile the station has exhausted nearly all of
its drones and long-range ammunition, correct? This is grim news, Admiral.”

“That filth won’t set foot on this station,” Perry said with
a snarl.

“No, I don’t expect so. But this ordeal will crush the
people’s faith in its leaders if we don’t put a stop to the bloodshed. As you
said, the Core Fleet’s excursion became a horrible mistake—let’s not compound
that with further blunders. Any attempt to destroy the pirates at this point
will only serve Starhawk because it will bring more death, more emotional
scarring on the people. Spare them. Spare our people the horror.”

The Admiral’s brow softened as the Governor’s words took
root.

***

“Boss, they just parked a shuttle out front,” Gruce said.
“Is that it? We good?”

“All yours,” Starhawk said. “Just don’t let ‘em pop you on
the way out.”

Two-Gut’s heart skipped a beat before hammering with
excitement. They would live after all! Gruce shoved Hargrove in front of him
and forced him out of the room to the hallway. “Pluck, let’s go. Shuttle’s
outside.”

“Coming, dearest.”

Pluck met up with Gruce as he and his hostage made their way
to the hotel’s front entrance. The boxy cobalt shuttle rested on the pavement
just outside the doors. Gruce and Pluck took cover at each side of the door
with Hargrove standing in the open, each pirate with a laser rifle trained on
him.

“Boss,” Gruce said. “You sure this isn’t a trap?”

“Nope,” came Starhawk’s nonchalant reply. “That is entirely
possible.”

The old pirate grimaced. It was all up to chance. Served him
well enough so far. Gruce exchanged glances with Pluck and shrugged. “Time to
go.”

He opened the door and shuffled forward into the sunlight
behind Hargrove, the barrel of his rifle snug against the back of the man’s
head.