Chapter Thirty-Four - Gatling Gun Blues

A modern spacecraft was a piece of moving art. A machine that allowed mortal man to master the most inhospitable of environments. It unlocked the solar system, and maybe one day the stars.

Some were venerable ancients, mistreated and uncared for, but still valuable. They were a stepping stone on the path of progress. Or so an overzealous museum curator might say.

The Valkyries treated their ships with due respect and were diligent about maintenance and keeping them in working order. These weren't cargo vessels, sent across space to deliver planet-made crap. These were pirate ships. Warriors of the void. A single fault could cascade into a disastrous failure leading to a lost ship, and a loss of piratical profits.

So Ivil expected that the Sappho would be in pretty decent condition when they got to it. Whether or not they'd be able to take control of the ship with just four people, only two of whom had proper experience at the helm, was something else entirely.

The Sappho was berthed relatively close to the centre of the station, only a few corridors away. Ivil and her companions took their time getting there, however. She wanted to give the others time to catch their breath, and recuperate otherwise.

"Is that it?" Twenty-Six asked as they walked through a corridor, one wall was lined with glass, and a ship was visible through it.

Ivil scanned the ship at a glance.

The Sappho was an Earth-pattern ship at its core. That was to say, its decks were laid out 'long' as opposed to 'tall.' The bridge sat at the middle-rear, covering a trio of large engines. Before it was a flat deck on which a large turreted cannon sat.

Ivil figured she would have time to inspect it better later, but at a cursory glance, the Sappho was a decently-armed light warship. Its designation as a destroyer was probably deserved. It was too light to be a pocket cruiser, and too bulky for a frigate or blockade runner.

Then again... she was thinking in Martian ship classifications. No two nations in the solar system could agree on a proper classification system for warships, and some systems contradicted themselves.

After the first inter-system war, Mars and Earth both signed treaties outlawing the construction of cruiser-and-larger ships.

Then they both immediately started building massive carriers that fit one loophole or another in the treaty, then turned around and called them everything from 'light auxiliary battleships' to 'war-capable utility ships.'

In any case, the Sappho was a tidy-looking little warship. Bigger than the patrol ships and corvettes that swam around the void near Mars, but not by too much. It was a respectably-sized vessel for pirates and ne'er-do-wells who likely couldn't afford the infrastructure to operate larger, capital-class warships.

"She's gorgeous," Twenty-Six said.

"She'll do," Aurora replied. "Assuming we can pilot her at all. And that we eventually give her a fresh coat of paint. Maybe black and bronze?"

"Aren't those the Phobos colours?" Missy asked.

"Yes," Aurora replied. "If, hypothetically, we manage to keep the ship, then we'll need to register it somewhere."

"And you're the only one with the clout to do that. I get it," Missy replied. "I could probably get a Haumea registry, if I called in a lot of favours."

Twenty-Six turned, blinking innocently at Missy. "I... don't think she'd look good with a clown nose."

Missy sighed. "Not every... urgh, nevermind."

Ivil smiled. With the tension of assaulting the command centre leaving the others, and the impression that they were almost out of here rising, the others had started to relax a little. They were bantering, talking about inconsequential things.

Ivil... wasn't entirely sure how to insert herself into all of that, but for now she was content to stand aside and enjoy it.

They came around a corner, and Ivil reached an arm out, stopping them.

The corridor was empty. This was the loading passage that ran parallel with the Sappho. It was similar to the room they'd stepped into when they left the Held Together. A large space, with racks and storage for tools at one end, and loading vehicles sitting idle in the centre.

Crates of supplies waiting to be loaded onto the ship sat there, hooked to the floor, and Ivil noted a screen with a list of maintenance times and a schedule on the far wall.

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Anyone leaving the ship would pass through here, but since they were all ostensibly pirates as well, there was no real security in place.

"What is it?" Missy asked. Her borrowed gun came up and she went on the defensive. There was a very faint shift as the sound around her changed, just a little.

"I don't think we're as alone as we'd want to be," Ivil said.

"Heh."

The noise echoed out across the corridor. Ivil narrowed her eyes, feeling out ahead. It took her a moment to realise that there was a spot in the room that her senses weren't penetrating.

It was a strange effect, but not one altogether unfamiliar to her. It was something akin to a non-smell. An odour that distinctly had no odour, and which therefore could only be noticed by the absence it left.

She hadn't been on the lookout for something quite so potent against her own particular senses.

In a battle against A and even B classers, it was only prudent to expect that the enemy would have a blank-like ability to disguise themselves. This wasn't that kind of situation. Or so she thought.

"Step out," Ivil said. "You've got me curious."

A shield appeared, faint and shimmering, a half-sphere that popped into being behind a crate, then a familiar woman stepped out from behind it.

It was the pirate that had accosted the Held Together, Rouge Herring. "You know, when I caught you, I didn't expect any fight at all. Just another group of poor souls, with too good of a price on their heads to pass up. A few dollars of profit for me, for a dishonest day's work," she said. Her voice was still warm honey, even slightly warped by the shield and echoing across the room. "Then you had to be a problem."

"I've always strived to be an issue," Ivil said. "I'm glad I was one for you as well."

The pirate reached down, then raised up a weapon. It was a large gun, the sort designed to be mounted on a turret, or in a fixed position, not the kind of weapon meant to be used by one person, or used within a station at all.

"You really were. Now, what sort of trouble are you planning next? About to steal a ride out of here?"

"Yes, actually," Ivil said.

"Figured as much, as soon as I saw the clamps come off on this one," she replied. "But I'm afraid you can't have her."

"I'm afraid you can't stop us," Ivil said.

The pirate grinned. "Too bad about Aurora. The bounty was spectacular." Then she swung her gun around while squeezing the trigger.

Twenty-Six and Aurora both screamed while Missy hit the deck. Bullets the size of small soft drink cans thumped across the room, slammed into the walls, and then continued onwards without a care.

Ivil caught those headed their way, and the shells shivered in the air for a moment before detonating under her control. The explosions created swirling balls of dust and smoke that raced out across the room, then started to rush towards the holes the pirate had pumped into the walls behind Ivil.

"Okay, that's enough of that," Ivil said.

"You can't hurt me!" Rouge Herring screamed.

Ivil detonated all of the explosive ammunition in her gun at once, proving that she could, in fact, hurt her.

The shield winked out and Ivil traced the course of the woman's corpse as it was flung across the room. She plucked it out of the air and then tossed it towards the ship's entrance airlock with a thought.

The others might find it distasteful to carry a corpse with them, but Ivil didn't think they had the luxury of time to wait and have all of the pirate's cores seep out of her body.

"Well, that was certainly something," she said as she brushed some dust off her pants. "Let's get going, shall we? Before we have to deal with even more diversions?"

Twenty-Six raised her head. She was cowering near the ground, her instinctual foetal position not quite working in zero-g. "Wha?" she asked smartly.

Ivil suspected that she might have made a mistake, not killing the pirate right away. Twenty-Six and the others clearly had a bit of tinnitus after all of that.

She reached down and scooped Twenty-Six up. "Let's get going, I said," Ivil repeated. The sooner they were off, the better. The Sappho would have to prove it's worth as a warship, one way or the other.

***