Reavers (Book 3) (19 page)

“We are just going through a bad spell,” she said reassuringly as she continued walking down the street.  “Once the new crewmembers get used to things we’ll be raiding again.  One mishap is no reason to throw in the towel.”

“This is serious, Rosalyn.”

She froze.  He had used her name.  Not once since he had become her right hand man had he ever referred to her as anything but Rosy.

“You mean it, don’t you?  You actually want us to just throw our lot in with some bloated guild of idiots?”

“Look around you!  The days of free pirates are over.  If we just keep blindly forging ahead like we are, we’re quickly going to find ourselves alone in a galaxy of gangs.”

“We’re pirates; of course we are alone!  The Commonwealth itself is against us!”

“But not like this!  There are only five Freeports left.  Soon they too will be gone.  Where will we resupply then?  Perhaps the local ITU trade array would be happy to sell us some missiles so we can continue to attack
their own trade ships
.  I doubt Duda will stick his neck out for us once his home has been bought.”

“We’ll make do.  We always have.  I refuse to be beaten by a bunch of pirates playing bureaucrat!”

“Don’t be stupid.  We can’t always fly by the seat of our pants.  We need a plan.”

“So think of one!  That’s your job isn’t it?  You’ve always kept us going; one less Freeport isn’t going to stop that.”

“I don’t know if I can anymore.  Every time I look ahead a few months, the picture is bleaker and bleaker.  I’m worried about our future.”

“
Our
future?  You’re only thinking about your own neck!  Maybe I had you figured all wrong.  I don’t need a coward like you on my ship.”

Andreas balled a fist and took a hostile step toward Rosalyn.  For the first time in her life she felt concern for her safety.

“Rosalyn, you idiot!” a voice screamed at them.

Andreas instantly released his fist and turned to face the voice.

“How dare you insult the captain!” Andreas called out.

“How dare the captain attempt to commit suicide and bring us all along for the ride!” Tardos shouted as he ran up to them.

“What are you going on about?” Rosalyn asked as she gathered her wits about her.

“Why didn’t you just overload the reactor?” Tardos was speaking at an incredible speed.  “At least that would be quick.  Or maybe poison the food?  Taint the air in the middle of the night.  Jump into the center of a military convoy and insult the admiral’s mother.  Fly us into the center of the sun. 
Anything
would have been preferable to this.”

“Watch your tone or you’ll wish she
had
killed you in your sleep.”  Andreas was practically seething with rage.

“How can you defend her?  And you!”  Tardos turned to face Rosalyn directly.  “How could you do this to us.  How can you be so calm knowing what you’ve doomed us to?”

Rosalyn was at a loss for words.  Tardos had apparently gone insane.  He studied her for several moments before freezing solid.

“
You don’t know, do you
?” he yelled in astonishment.  “How can you
not
know?”

Andreas grabbed Tardos by the neck and lifted the man clean off the ground.

“If you desire to see another day, I’d suggest you explain yourself,” Andreas said with a voice that shouted he wasn’t kidding.

“Beat me to a pulp
later
!” Tardos said desperately.  “We have to get out of here!”

“What is wrong with you?” Rosalyn asked, stepping closer to the flailing man.

“There’s no time.  We have to go
now
.  I can explain in detail later, but we have to get out of here before it’s too late!”

With a single nod from Rosalyn, Andreas put the man down and started issuing the order through his pad.  Before Rosalyn could ask Tardos further, he had already darted off toward the ship.  His speed was incredible, so much so that she had to rub her eyes to make sure she was really seeing it.  As Andreas put his pad back into his pocket, he turned to face Rosalyn.

“It’s done,” he said flatly, a hint of anger still in his voice.  “The docking crews are sealing the cargo bay as we speak.”

“I don’t get it.  I just called you a coward, but you instantly took my side.”

“Until you say otherwise, I’m still your second in command.”

With a smile and a nod from Rosalyn, the two ran back to the ship.  As they ran she noticed all the citizens had vanished.  They didn’t encounter a single person as they retreated back to the ship.  Apparently, they weren’t the only ones evacuating.

As Rosalyn and Andreas made their way to the bridge, they found the corridors empty.  When she had left, the crew was lazing about - some even napping in the hallways.  Now they were all at their stations, a look of anxiety on their faces.

“What do they know we don’t?”  Rosalyn asked.

“There you are!” Revel shouted.  “The crew is ready for . . . what exactly is going on again?”

“So you’re responsible for the crew?” Andreas asked as the three ran toward the bridge.

“Seemed like the right thing to do,” Revel said.  “I don’t know what set him off, but Tardos was giving me the creeps.  After being caught unprepared last time, I thought better safe than sorry.”

The bridge crew were at their posts, but they seemed distracted.  A dull, repeating thud caught Rosalyn’s attention.

“We’re too late,” Tardos muttered as he pounded his fist against the wall plating.

“Status report!” Andreas demanded.

“I don’t know what to say,” the nearest bridge crewmember said.  “He stormed in here, opened a communications link, and then just started banging on the wall there.”

“Who did he try to contact?” Rosalyn asked.

“The dock master.”  Tardos sighed heavily.  “I was too late.  Why did you ever dock here?”

“Would you explain what has you acting like a madman?” Revel asked, sounding worried.

Tardos leaned over and tapped a few commands into the terminal.  The main monitor sprung to life.  It presented an external view of the Freeport.  There were a dozen or so ships circling the station.

“The Navy?” Andreas shouted.

“I wish,” Tardos said in a hollow voice.

“Enough with this cryptic garbage,” Rosalyn said rubbing her temple.  “Pull yourself to together and start making sense!”

“How could all of you not know?” Tardos asked in disbelief.  “I guess you’ve always been independent.  Still, you should know better.”

Andreas balled a fist and took a step toward the rambling old man.

“Ever heard of the phrase ‘Right of Occupation?’” Tardos asked no one in particular as he played with the terminal.

Andreas and Revel shot glances at Rosalyn.

“Never heard of it before,” she said with a shrug.

“We’re caught in an occupation war?” one of the bridge crew screamed.

“Finally, someone understands,” Tardos said with a wry smile.

“How about you enlighten the rest of us,” Rosalyn said, taking her chair.

“It’s a long story, so I’ll hit the highlights.”  Tardos closed his eyes as his shoulders sank.  “We’re doomed anyways.  Might as well know why.”

Revel and Andreas took seats and Tardos focused.

“As you know, all pirates were originally independent,” Tardos started.  “Get a ship and a crew and you were set to try your luck.  As the number of pirates grew, they made their homes on Freeports, and more trade ships started disappearing.  Eventually, the pirates earned the interest of the military.  Hunting them down like dogs, the Navy worked to free the trade lanes of pirates.”

“And all this affects us how?” Rosalyn asked.  “I thought this was just the highlights.”

“It affects us because to deal with the pressure and dangers of the Navy, the pirates created guilds,” Tardos continued, clearly annoyed at the interruption.  “Large groupings of pirates started working together to take on the Navy and attack larger trade convoys.  The largest of the guilds got drunk with power, as they seemed unstoppable.  The trouble started when one of the largest guilds decided an entire region of space was theirs alone.  They took over the Freeports and openly attacked any non-guild pirate that entered their territory.”

“Wait a minute, I’ve never heard of any of this,” Andreas protested.  “I know the guilds don’t get along, but actually attacking one another?”

“This was hundreds of years ago,” Tardos said, sounding a bit cross at being interrupted again.  “If things had continued on like that, there wouldn’t be ignorant fools like you who fly around without a clue of guild law.”

Andreas grumbled as Revel prompted Tardos to continue.

“The other guilds got together and attacked the renegade guild,” Tardos continued.  “The battle was long and bloody.  When all was said and done, the guilds were in shambles, and several Freeports had been destroyed.  The Navy then swept in and nearly wiped out what was left of the guilds entirely.  The surviving guild leaders promised they’d never let such a tragedy happen again.  So they created the Circle.”

Revel opened his mouth only to have Andreas instantly punch him firmly in the arm.  Tardos sighed.

“The Circle is a council made up of the leaders of the largest and most powerful pirate guilds.  They basically set the rules that keep the guilds from turning on one another again.  Although, in truth, most of the time all they do is bicker and argue.  One of the first things they set up was the Right of Occupation.  It clearly listed how a guild could acquire a Freeport.”

“I’m guessing the Great White Rat didn’t follow the rules,” Rosalyn muttered, still not understanding what was bothering Tardos.  She knew the history of the Circle, but not this right of occupation nonsense.

“You can’t simply put a sticker on the side of your ship and call yourself a guild,” Tardos said, sighing deeply.  “More than that, you can’t simply hand over a chunk of credits and buy a Freeport.  The leaders of the Freeport knew that, but most likely they just took the money and ran.”

“Ran?” Andreas asked, a hint of concern evident.

“We’ve got a situation here!” a man shouted.

“What?” Rosalyn demanded as she rose.

The man was pale and trembling.  His head slowly shifted toward the main monitor.  Every eye locked on the display, and all their hearts sank.  Countless jump windows were opening all around the Freeport.  Dozens upon dozens of ships were jumping in, each fully ready for battle.  As the smaller ships joined in separate formations, even larger Walls opened up.  Massive battleships jumped in.

The various banners and emblems proudly heralded which guild each huge capital ship belonged to.  As soon as the last battleship finished its jump, all the gathered ships opened fire.  Uncountable specks of light and arcs left by missiles danced around the Freeport like a halo of death.

“Because the Great White Rat didn’t follow Circle law, they won’t support their claim of ownership.  With the owner of the Freeport in dispute, the station and everything on it is up for grabs,” Tardos said, not even glancing at the monitor.  “With only six Freeports left, not one guild is going to let this one slip.  By this time tomorrow the number of ships out there will double.  By week’s end it will double
again
.  Soon, every single pirate with ambitions will be blasting away.  And we’re stuck, smack-dab in the middle.”

Rosalyn sank into her chair.

“We stay on the Freeport and we automatically become the possession of whichever guild wins the battle,” Tardos said as he bit his lower lip.  “We leave the Freeport and get blasted to atoms.”

Sanderson checked over his uniform.  It had been a while since he had been asked to wear full ceremonials.  His normal assignment wasn’t really big on parades, and attention from the public was avoided.  After double-checking every button and seam, he let himself relax.  The mass transit ways were crowded and busy.  It had been a real challenge to find a spot where he could stand without rubbing against something or someone that would soil his uniform.  The transit car wasn’t much larger than a drop ship but had twice as many people in it.

At least fifty stood around the center, holding the safety bars that ran from the ceiling to the floor.  The designers hadn’t bothered wasting space on seats.  Glancing out the window, he watched as the city flew by.  The view of the countless skyscrapers was uninhibited by a single obstacle.  He knew dozens of other transit ways crisscrossed the city, but even though he knew where to look it was still all too easy to miss them.  The transit cars hung from long semi-transparent tracks suspended in the air by several equally transparent support beams. 

Sanderson had to shake his head.  So much effort spent so the citizens of a core world wouldn’t have to worry about spoiling their view.  Although, he did have to admit the experience was breathtaking.  Peering out the windows gave him the feeling he was flying.  The locals ignored it all.  To them the whole thing was simply a way to get to their destination.  A gentle tone warned him they were reaching the next platform.  Shifting cautiously through the crowd, Sanderson made his way to the exit without so much as wrinkling his ceremonials.

A few moments later, the door slid open and he quickly ducked out of the way before the next bunch tried to wedge themselves in the already crowded transit car.  Taking a deep breath, Sanderson headed along the route he had been instructed.  As he neared his destination, the attire of the locals grew more and more extravagant.  As he rounded a corner, the amphitheater came into view.  It was a massive structure that resembled a large open clam.  There was no need to worry about rain here.  The weather was controlled down to the last detail. 

Pulling out his pad, he made sure he was in the right spot.  Following the crowd, he made his way to the massive line that snaked into the amphitheater.  Scanning the horde of well-dressed civilians, he quickly found his true destination - the side entrance for staff members.  Carefully navigating the crowd to avoid ruining his attire, he made his way to the side entrance as quickly as possible.  A large man dressed in the uniform of the Protectorates was standing guard.

“Name?” the Protectorate asked curtly.

“Cooper Sanderson.”

The Protectorate scanned his pad.  After a minute he started shaking his head.

“Sorry, not on the list,” the Protectorate said as he gestured for him to move on.

“Try
stuffed shirt
,” he said with a sigh.

The Protectorate raised an eyebrow and rechecked his pad.  A moment later he stepped aside and released the security lock on the door.  As Sanderson entered, he heard the Protectorate laughing to himself.  Inside, the amphitheater was more crowded than outside.  Stagehands and support staff were frantically scurrying about the narrow corridors between dressing rooms and storage space.  He checked his pad and headed toward the proper dressing room.  After avoiding the horde of sloppily dressed support staff, he made it to the right room.

“There you are,” a soft voice said as she let out a relieved sigh, “looking prim and proper as always.

“You summoned me, Kindra?” he asked.

“You know I’m hopeless at this.  Could you lend me a hand?”

She gestured to her dress.  Sanderson chuckled to himself as he moved over and started readjusting the straps.

“You called me here for this?  I could have been on assignment you know.”

“Don’t give me that.”  Kindra exhaled deeply, blowing her long hair out of her face.  “You would have found a way.  You always do.  Plus no one is as good as you.  The staff here would make me look like an idiot if I left it in their hands.”

“Good to know that if this military thing falls through, I’ll always have a position as your outfit consultant.”

Kindra chuckled until he handed her another dress.

“What’s wrong with what I’ve got?” she asked defensively.

“Makes you look like a wilted flower.  Or maybe an overly ripe bit of fruit.”

Not bothering to argue, Kindra started to undress.  He quickly turned his back.  She was right about one thing - the staff was incompetent.  No one in their right mind would have given a dress of
that
color to someone with Kindra’s dark complexion.

“So what’s the occasion?” He asked as he heard her dress fall to the floor.

“My idiotic brother.”

“Rufas?”

“He’s getting some award or medal.  Not sure, and don’t care to find out.”

“So why bother to attend?”

“Wasn’t my choice.  Apparently, my annoying brother has made a few friends in the military.  I was practically
ordered
to attend the banquet.”

Sanderson chuckled at the thought as Kindra tapped his shoulder.  The purple dress he had chosen suited her perfectly, although her long flowing black hair was bunched around the back due to her hastily throwing it on.  Turning her around, he worked to straighten out her hair and the few wrinkles in the dress.  Just as he was about finished, the door slid open.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Rufas said apologetically.  “I didn’t realize I had the wrong dressing room.  Tell me, Miss, could you direct me to my little sister?  She has a strong resemblance to walking stick.  You might have mistaken her for a boy or one of the staff members.”

Sanderson had to restrain her as she lunged at her brother.  Rufas burst into laughter.

“You’re too easy,” he taunted as he tapped her nose.  “Who’s this keeping you from causing a scene?” Rufas leaned over to peer under Kindra’s long hair as she continued to struggle to break free. “Oh!  Well, if it isn’t Mr. Stuffed Shirt himself.  Still enduring my little sister?”

“Would you just get out of here?” she fumed.  “You know I don’t want to be here.”

“Now why would I do that?  What’s the point of forcing you into coming if I don’t rub your nose in it just a bit?”

She swung a fist at Rufas.  He easily leaned back out of her range.  Sanderson used all his strength to hold Kindra back as she continued to swing at the laughing man.

“Five minutes, Mr. Linwood,” one of the staff members said through the open door.

“Oh well, guess my fun is over for now.”  Rufas winked at her as he walked toward the door.  “Good luck making her presentable, Mr. Stuffed Shirt.”

Even after the door slid shut the sound of Rufas laughing could be heard.  Sanderson continued to hold her back until she calmed down.  Once he was sure she wasn’t going to chase after her brother, he released her and started straightening out her dress again.

“I hate him,” Kindra fumed with gritted teeth.  “He’s been humiliating me since before I can remember.”

“Humiliating?” he asked absentmindedly as he finished with her dress.

“Haven’t you noticed?” she shouted.  “He won’t let me forget it, not even for a second.”

“Forget what?”

Abruptly, she grabbed his hand and pressed it against her chest.  It took him a second to realize she was holding his hand against one of her small breasts.

“Tomboy, flagpole, rail, flat.”  Kindra grated her words as they left her mouth.  “For an entire year he even introduced me to his friends as his younger
brother
!”

Her eyes started to mist as her grip tightened.  Sanderson shook his head disapprovingly.  Moving his free hand up to her face, he used his sleeve to dry her eyes.

“Don’t let him win,” he said with a smile.  “If you get puffy eyes now, he’ll just have more to make fun of later.”

Kindra stared at his wet sleeve in shock.

“Am I interrupting something?” a tall slender woman asked as she leaned against the doorframe.

Sanderson realized his position and quickly pulled his hand off Kindra’s chest.

“It’s not what it looks like Mrs. Linwood,” he said quickly.

“No need to be so formal,” she said as she entered the room.  “Please, call me Janet.”

“What do
you
want?” Kindra asked in a hostile voice.

The tall slender woman smiled at the girl as she walked past her and started examining her makeup in the lighted mirror on the far end of the room.

“I simply came to tell you they need you on stage,” she said over her shoulder.  “Guess they want brother and sister to enter together.”

Kindra mumbled under her breath as she stormed out of the room.  His task completed, he started walking toward the door.  Before he had reached it, a slender hand rested on his shoulder.

“A moment of your time, if I could,” Janet said.

“Don’t tell me you want me to look over your dress, too?” he asked as he turned.

To his surprise, she had a deeply concerned look on her face.  The softness didn’t fit with her sharp features.

“Something wrong?” he asked hesitantly.

“They’ll never get along, will they?” she asked.

“Doubt it.  You’d have an easier time getting a Core Industries captain to say something nice about the Independent Traders Union.”

Janet chuckled heartily.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said as she started to smile.  “Although, I wish they would at least be civil when I do things like this.”

“Do things like this?  What do you mean?”

“Do you honestly think Rufas would force his little sister to attend his award banquet just so he can make fun of her a little?”

“
You’re
the one who forced Kindra to come?  You don’t honestly hope to force them to like one another, do you?”

“Not at all.”  Janet chuckled at the thought.

“Then why drag her here?”

“So she’d contact you.”

“Me?”  Sanderson backed away slightly.  “What do you want with me?” 

“She’s miserable.”  Janet hadn’t even noticed his movements.  Her eyes were staring at the door Kindra had just left through.  “Rufas won’t admit it aloud of course, but he’s worried about her.”

“Kindra?” he asked in astonishment.

“Did you know they write one another?  A couple of times a month since he joined the diplomatic core.”

“Still?  I would have thought she’d quit when she got her assignment.”

“True, she did miss one letter.  Rufas thought she was done with it.  A couple weeks later she wrote again, only it was twice the normal length.  She might not look it, but she is horribly depressed.”

“If her assignment is that disappointing, why not put in for another?”

“You’re not understanding,” Janet said with a small smile.  “It’s not the assignment.  She misses the old days and her friends.  She misses
you
.”

“Me?”  Sanderson couldn’t believe his ears.

“The only parts of her letters that are even remotely cheerful are when she recounts her days on the academy with you and the others.  Rufas told me that in each and every letter she mentions you specifically at one point or another.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“I don’t care if my husband hates his little sister, or if they can’t help fighting.  However, I’m not so cold that I want her to suffer so badly.  I can’t help feeling sorry for her.  I was hoping you could help.  If you are willing.”

“Willing?  Why do I get the feeling you have something planned?”

“Well, my dear husband has quite a few people wrapped around his little finger - several of them in the military.  I was hoping I could persuade you to . . .
comfort
her for a while.  Naturally, I can make it worth your time.  Maybe a promotion or two could get you to consider abandoning your current assignment for now.”

He stared at her in disbelief.  He couldn’t believe she was trying to whore him out to cheer up her husband’s little sister.  As she walked out of the room, her hips swayed suggestively.

“Think about it,” she said in a soft voice as she slipped something into his pocket.

Sanderson extended out his right arm and pinched it.  When the pain came he realized he wasn’t dreaming.  That had really just happened.  Digging into his pocket he found a ticket to the award banquet and a stub for a hotel nearby.  The stub clearly listed a room number.  Janet sure had an odd way of helping.

The award banquet was beyond boring.  Sanderson wasn’t sure he even knew of a word that fully expressed the mind numbing pain that was the endless ceremony.  It was filled with longwinded speeches that repeated the same points over and over.  His mind was on anything but the pedantic self-gratifications of the diplomatic core.  Eyeing the hotel stub, he wondered what to do.  The promises of promotion meant nothing to him.  It was the startling fact that Kindra was depressed and missed him that held his mind hostage.