PART I – WHAT COMES AROUND…

“I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was for the adventure, maybe because I’m easily molded, or maybe because…I don’t know why,” the fair-skinned mid-aged woman said.

Across from her sat an older man whose ash-grey hair was making a tactical retreat from his head.

“Why doesn’t baldie just get bio-implants,” the woman wondered as she stared at the reflection on his bald head.

“Please continue, Junior Flag-Officer Angela Anahera,” he said softly. “Confession is good for the soul.”

“The name’s Scar,” she said pointing to the facial scar that ran the length of her face. “Save the sermon for those who still believe in the Universal Church of whatever, preacher man”

The lines in his face ran deep as he smiled back at her. He sat back against the steel slab mounted to the wall. Leaning against the wall he looked behind him and raised an eyebrow. He gingerly placed his hand against the wall as it vibrated.

“Not used to space travel, huh?” Scar asked.

“Everything is always shaking,” he said with a half chuckle. “But I’m here to talk and maybe save your soul, Scar.”

“Why, I regret nothing. If anything, I own my actions,” she said shifting in her seat and giving a thumbs up.

“Well, let me put it like this, what brought you to the situation you find yourself in now?” he asked moving away.

“Don’t worry, I don’t kill priests,” she said waving to the guards outside her cell door.

His steel-grey eyes studied her face, and his shoulders relaxed. The priest placed his book on his knee and smiled at her. Scar closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

***

I will always remember the first day I met the Pirate Captain Lilith Halphas. Except for her pitch-black skin capped with snow-white hair, and almond-shaped eyes she was rather unremarkable. She was shorter than most of the crew, and only came up to me about chest high.

As a Junior Flag-Officer, my duty aboard the UNS Daily was a joke because I was assigned to oversee the kitchen and mess galley staff. There was little glory in the assignment.

Ever since my so-called accident, I was buried in the bowels of the ship. I guess Captain Fitch had enough of my disfigurement. Come to think of it, he did tend to surround himself with a fit-young crew, all in peak condition and in their prime. The bridge crew was the representation of the best of what the Galactic Nations had to offer, perfection and beauty. Or so I thought.

While personally inspecting the officer tables, as I did before each meal, I noticed the white-haired cadet swabbing the floor. Her ink-black eyes kept staring back at me. She had a slight hint of a grin on her face each time she passed by.

“Can I help you?” I asked her.

“Yes, stand still so I can get a better look,” she said grinning up at me.

“Can you clarify that statement, cadet?” I asked.

“I can’t help but look,” she said. “Well, that’s a lie. I can help it, but I choose not to. I made my decision and sticking with it. So, I’ll just stare at your stunning face.”

I stammered at first, shocked by this brazen level of honesty from a cadet. Then I realized that someone must have put her up to this. My temper started to boil.

“Excuse me, but you are speaking to a Junior Flag-Officer of the United National Space Force!” I snapped back immediately.

“Honestly, I can’t help it,” she said leaning against her mop. “Chicks dig scars! At this point, I’m ready to shop on the other side of the store, if that makes sense.”

My temper flared as my face turned red. How dare this cadet attempt to sexually harass me in my galley! I balled up my fists and tensed up, my initial response of embarrassment and shame turned to full rage.

“I should have you flogged, cadet!” I said.

It was an archaic threat, but a punishment still used on ships that were far from the core worlds to maintain discipline. The cadet grinned, and her ink-black almond eyes widened as if she just got a week of shore leave. She unzipped her jumpsuit. Jagged scars, old claw marks, and blaster streaks covered her back. The marks told a story of violence and danger.

The soft mylar material slipped off her slender shoulders. As she stood there topless, she turned and gazed over her slender shoulder. The cadet placed her hands on the officer’s table.

“Umm…” I said mouth hanging open. “I’m not going to uh flog you.”

“Punishing me by not beating me, such cruelty,” she said tucking her breasts back into her jumpsuit and zipping it back up. “I like it, Scar.”

She glided away and left me standing there in complete horror. Before turning a corner, she gave a little wave from the door. I have always been career-minded, and not once had my mind ever drifted from my duties. I couldn’t stop thinking about the cadet whose eyes worshiped me like I was a goddess. This had to be a joke.

When I was young, I studied hard and made my parents proud by graduating in the top 10-percent of my junior school. I graduated from the UNS Naval Academy in the top quarter of my class. Peers, friends, and teachers said I was going someplace. I had first pick of any ship in the fleet, and I picked the renowned UNS Daily. Once there, I was assigned to the bridge crew.

Everything was going well for me till one day our Null-Point Shields failed. It was the best equipment that the lowest bidder could provide to the UNS fleet.

The UNS Daily was on route clearance, and we were eliminating asteroids that wandered into the spacing lanes. The ship blew several relays and lost power to the primary shields. Captain Fitch barked out orders. We struggled to extinguish the electrical fires that had broken out on the bridge.

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One of the control panels exploded and a shard of galvanized steel nearly took my head off. The bone saw of a doctor said he could easily repair the damage with skin grafts and biogel. I would be good as new in a short time, but Fitch said I was no longer pure and to leave the scars as a reminder of my folly of not being more vigilant.

“You can fix her up, but I don’t want to be surrounded by the unnatural,” I heard him whisper to the doctor when they thought I was asleep.

After that, I was ashamed and humiliated. How could I have allowed this to happen? Residing myself to my fate I convinced myself that this was my fault, and that I deserved this disfigurement. It wasn’t till that cadet stared back at me like I was Aphrodite incarnate, worshiping me with her black eyes, that made me feel like I meant...something.

How dare this lowly cadet make me believe that I was worthy of any admiration!

Every time I thought about the incident with her, I boiled over with rage, and was snapping at anyone who happened to be near me. It was difficult to focus on my duties and I needed to do something. So, I ejected my emotions out of the airlock and vowed never to dwell on anything else except for my duties.

Later that universal evening I sat down to dinner with the other officers. They were sitting around discussing their subordinates, supply issues, or some situation that had come up. I realized that I was all alone in my corner of the table. The other officers avoided making direct eye contact with me. My stomach knotted up and twisted around. I was alone in the crowd.

Glancing around the galley, I took my napkin and wiped my lips, pretending that I had just finished eating. Spying something written on the napkin I noticed a message:

“Don’t eat the soup, ♥ u Scar!”

Slamming down the napkin on the table I frantically searched the galley. I spotted the black-skinned cadet carrying several catsup bottles. Scrambling to my feet I caught up to her outside of the galley.

“What do you think you are doing cadet?” I demanded as she continued down the hall.

She looked down at the bottle and back at me.

“Um, carrying bottles,” she said turning the corner.

“I mean with the bottles,” I said stepping in front of her.

She pirouetted on her heels and slipped right by me. She zipped by as if I was trapped in a stasis field. Catching up to her again, I found her waiting patiently outside of the supply room.

The cadet pulled out my key control card, that she had somehow slipped from my belt, and swiped the door lock. With a hiss, the door opened, and she strolled right in as if she owned the place.

I watched with morbid fascination as she dumped the contents of one of the bottles into the helmet of the IBC-Repair suits we use for spacewalks and zero-grav training. After watching her repeat this odd little ritual twice I had enough.

“That’s government property you are a damaging cadet,” I said. “I order you to tell me why you are doing this!”

She paused and her black eyes glazed over as if contemplating some esoteric piece of ancient lore discovered in a lost ruin.

Finally, she snapped out of her trance and said, “You know…I often do things like this and have no idea why. But for whatever reason, it somehow works out in the end.”

“Who the heck are you?” I asked.

“Oh, that I can answer, Scar,” she said pulling out a hidden Pepper-Jack pistol from between her breasts. “I’m trepidation and fear manifested into reality, for today is the day you meet pirate Captain Lilith Halphas!”

She smiled and bowed deeply; her hand wrapped tightly around the pistol. Mouth-breathing at this brazen attempt at honestly or madness I stood there watching her.

“Lilith Halphas?” I somehow managed to mutter.

“My parents wanted a nice Biblical name like Jezebel or Delilah, but Lilith works too,” she said smiling at me with admiration. “Oh, I almost forgot proper etiquette, according to the rules of the high seas, I’m officially announcing my intent on commandeering your ship.”

Before I knew it, I was helping her carry the empty IBC-Repair suits to the airlock. The crew that we passed were doubled over, vomiting, or passed out on the deck of the ship.

“Must be something they ate,” Lilith said as we hauled the suits.

When she released the safeties to the airlock gates and jettisoned the IBC’s into space, I asked her, “You were messing with me about my scar, weren’t you?”

A red light came on, the mechanics buzzed as the safety catches released.

“Scars are a sign of a real warrior,” she said inching closer to me. “The deeper the scars, the stronger the opponent.”

Lilith stood up on her tippy toes to make eye contact with me. I still remember her warm breath as it rolled down my lips and chin.

“What are you talking about, I’m no warrior,” I said pointing to my face. “This was from a panel explosion.”

She placed a finger on my lips and continued to gaze directly into my eyes.

“Shhh…you faced the deadliest opponent of all and survived…Death itself,” Lilith whispered. “I hope to one day have battle scars like you. I’m extremely jealous of your beauty.”

She turned around and left me standing there alone and confused, once again.

“Next time you face Death, I want to be by your side,” she said. “I promise.”

Frustrated at the memory, I hammered my fist into the wall of my prison cell.

“Why did you take your life and leave me all alone?” I asked punching the wall again. “You promised me!”

Blood ran down between my knuckles. At least the physical pain masked the emptiness I felt inside. The guards immediately placed their hands on their weapons, but the priest waved for them to back off.

“I understand your loss, some people rather be dead than caged like an animal,” he said softly placing his hand on my shoulder.

Perhaps he was right or maybe my battle-sister took the easy way out like a coward.

“So why exactly did she pour ketchup into the helmets?” asked the priest.

I began to laugh. Every move you make should have a purpose. What you do may not have any rationale and may seem a bit crazy. Do it anyway even if that purpose is never revealed. Lilith repeated this mantra ad nauseam to the crew.

“The captain of the Daily refused to give up the codes for the cargo hold till the flight suits drifted by the bridge window,” I said.

“Your crew have such pretty little faces. Want to see what the vacuum does to them when I toss them outta the airlock?” Lilith asked to the captain.

“Captain Fitch was so obsessed with beauty that he gave up the codes without a single weapon being discharged,” I said.

“And the cargo,” asked the priest.

“Her ship, the Rescue 1, arrived and stole only the Biotin medical shipment bound for Stefvann VIII,” I said.

“I recall something about the bio-outbreak,” he said. “The colonists were saved.”

Snorting from amusement, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and giggled as I remembered what I learned days later.

“The UNS Daily was ordered to deliver experimental weapons to the garrisons for testing preceding our visit to Stafvann VIII,” I confessed. “The colonialists would have all been wiped out if the Daily adhered to the assigned schedule.”

Closing my eyes and drifting back, I replayed the reason why I joined Lilith’s crew. When I first found out their prize was the Biotin and not the AT-guns I was furious. I even tried to attack the pirates while unarmed.

After getting subdued, Lilith placed her Pepper-Jack pistol into my hand and said, “We are going directly to planet Stafvann, and if we deviate from that destination, you may shoot me. No one will stop you, Scar.”

“And after we arrive there?” I asked.

“It’s a free cosmos, you can do whatever you want,” she said.

I did. I joined her crew.