Pirate Mishaps - Chapter 1

Almost three months had passed in a flash for Geo (actually Georgia-Ann McConor, but she liked the nickname better). As she stepped out of the shower, she looked at herself in the bathing room's mirror. Long and slightly wavy black hair, light golden brown skin, dark brown eyes, and a lovely smile filled with good white teeth, all gifts from her mixed blood heritage. She gave herself a small, sad smile, remembering her parents and grandparents who she would never see again, they having been dead for some 12000 years. She put her hair up in a braid, and dressed in her good uniform, she had meetings and hiring to do today, and probably the rest of the week.

As she took the automated tram to her temporary office on the station, she thought back on the big and little things that had happened to her over the last three months...

*-*-*

A military tribunal had been convened due to the discharge of the Mark III Gravitational cannon. The charges laid were “Disruption of shipping lanes in the Oanov system”, “Discharge of a weapon classified as a ‘War Crime’ by treaty”, and “Crimes against Sapient life”.

When the charges were formally read, Geo consulted with her lawyer for a few minutes before her lawyer stood and said, “Your honor, and esteemed jurors, my client has asked me to declare her admission of guilt to the first charges, as the evidence of such is overwhelming. But on the charges of ‘Crimes against sapient life, She declares herself innocent”

After the uproar in the court had settled, the trial took it’s normal course, grinding on for several days. The Nautilus’ logs were subjected to many readings, and Campy was forced to testify. The sticking points of the trial being an ancient law on the books that said, “Attacking a known sentient from a classified deathworld, shall be considered an act of suicide.” The problem being that Dirt-Rock, while obvious to everyone present, was indeed a “Deathworld”, it had never been properly classified as such. On the other grasper, it was a “well known fact” that it was indeed a Deathworld. The legal arguments over this point went on. And on. And on. Finally the Judge ruled that, even though Dirt-rock had never been “Properly” cited as such, the tradition of 12,000 cycles of calling it such, even in legal briefs, was proper notice. Once that was decided, the case became more of a “self defense/defense of others” argument. One that was easily proven.

“All rise!” the Bailiff said, unamplified voice easily quieting the courtroom; as the Military Judge strode in and settled itself; then saying, “Be seated!”

Without a moment of hesitation, the judge began, “Admiral Georgia-Ann McConor, the jury and this military tribunal finds you NOT GUILTY of crimes against Sapient life. As you have plead guilty to the other charges, you are hereby ordered to pay restitutions of 1.86 million credits for the disruption of shipping in the Oanov System, and 1.03 million credits for the self defence use of a Mark III Gravitational cannon. Court DISMISSED!”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Geo stood and shook appendages with her attorney. "I'm glad that is over. Are you sure you still want to help me set up my business dealings here on station? I may still end up being a millstone around your neck." Geo said.

"klick click Klack Klack Click whistle" Her attorney replied.

"Splendid." Geo smiled, but didn't show her teeth. Silly people, not understanding a simple thing like a full smile. "Off to pay the fine, then on to business. I need an office, a contracting company big enough to service the Nautilus's problems, and a university."

As she left the Oanov planetary courthouse complex, Geo smiled at the crowd that had gathered. She waved and blew a few kisses. It was good to be free.

*-*-*

Several days of hammering out contracts with her lawyer’s assistance, saw Geo with a new office, and station board accommodations. A few days later found her in the offices of the Oanov Shipwrights Guild.

“With your current budget of just under 15 Billion, and with the amount of repairs and maintenance your ship needs, 14.99 billion is the lowest we can go, Admiral.” The shipwright’s guild leader, a short statured Yetti, said.

“So, almost all of my credits and eleven weeks in dry dock, and I get basic repairs and maintenance done on the power system, Fuel system, Hyperdrive, Main Engineering, Reactors, and Life Support; and no hull, shields, weapons, or any other maintenance will be done? Very well, we can deal with that.” Geo smiled at the head of the shipwrights guild, then shook his proffered appendage. “A pleasure doing business with you.”

“Oh, the pleasure is ours! You will not regret this decision! Not a single bit!” The small Yetti said, a glint of delight in it’s eyes.

*-*-*

After searching the station's computer systems for educational resources (well, actually Campy did the searching), Geo was standing in front of a rare, free standing building on the station, surrounded by “grass” and “trees”. The building in question was, according to the sign, the local branch of the “Intergalactic Starship Training Academy''. She took a deep breath and walked up the dozen or so steps; taking another breath, she walked in. The interior was well lit with many holograms of various class activities, sporting events, and other things that she didn't recognize. Following the signs, she made her way to one of several enrollment kiosks and started typing in her credentials.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Following the onscreen prompts, she selected the basic “Starship Captains'' course load, doubled up the class schedule (so she could be done in 3 months, instead of 6), paid the computer, and turned to leave. Only to be confronted by a pair of tusked, green skinned reptilian aliens wearing generic looking security uniforms with the college's logo on the left breast pocket.

“Gentle-beings, what can I do for you today?” Geo asked, trying to keep her surprise in check.

“We are very sorry to disturb you, Ma'am, but the would like to have a word with you.” The officer on the left said, waiving towards the college offices.

"Do I have any choice in this?" Geo asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course you do, Ma'am!" The officer to Geo's right responded, head thrown back in surprise. The one on the left put its 'hand' on it's forehead and shook it's head.

"Please forgive my coworker, he is usually responsible for cleaning out the drunks on campus after the close." The guard on the left says. "The has dispatched us to invite you to this evening." It extended it's arm, a small card held out. "Again, I apologize."

Geo took the card, "Well, thank you. Please tell the Dean that I look forward to meeting them."

"I will. I hope you enjoy your time at the university." The left hand guard replied, bowing at the waist before leaving, ushering the other guard in front of them.

*-*-*

“Six thirty” in the evening, local time, found Geo in front of a small but palatial estate on the college campus. When she rang the obviously antique door bell she could hear a scurry of activity behind the extensively carved wooden door. Wood? On a space station? This is some expensive place! She thought.

The door opens a moment later, revealing a middle aged Yetti wearing what one could only assume to be a butlers uniform. "Ah, Madame Geo, please come in! The is waiting for you in the dining room." He gave a small bow, "If you would follow me?" He turned and, at a measured pace, led her through several well decorated rooms and short hallways to a large open dining room, complete with a large slab of a wooden table and what looked to be an antique sideboard.

Standing at the far end of the table was an stooped backed and elderly Gorak, plumage faded, and with an artificial leg. "Ah, Madam Geo, a pleasure to meet you! Would you please join me for ?" He gestured to a place setting just to his right.

"Of course, good sir." Geo responded, stepping into the room, and walking to the appointed spot. A moment later the butler had her chair pulled out and she sat. "So , to what do I owe the honor of your invitation?"

"Well, honestly, I wanted to meet the dreaded Dirt-Rockian. The Pirate Slayer, representative of the Hu-mans who decimated our fleet with fire and chaos." The winked absurdly, "And to satisfy my personal curiosity as to whether or not the rumors of your dangerous nature were exaggerated or not."

Geo shrugged, and wiggled around in the chair to get comfortable, "Well...I'm not particularly dangerous. Not usually anyway." The raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I can be dangerous. But only when threatened...or when those I care about are threatened...or when my home is threatened...alright, I hate being threatened and it brings out the worst in me?"

"Well that is certainly good to hear. I can assure you that we do not allow threatening of students on campus, so all should go well on that front." The . "Oh where are my manners? Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Heshmell, son of Heshmall, son of Hershmaell; of students here at the Academy. Please call me Hesh."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Heshmell, son of Heshmall, son of Hershmaell, and I appreciate your allowing me to shorten your name." Geo responded in her most formal tone. "And please, Geo is fine."

The butler appeared at that moment to deliver the first course of dinner. A nice small salad of leaves and root vegetables.

"Ah, thank you Oarsman! I was beginning to get peckish." Said Hesh. "Geo, let us feast, and avoid complicated conversations until after ."

Having not previously encountered this particular grouping of foods, Geo removed the small portable scanner that Campy had manufactured, and used it on the salad, before taking a bite. It was delightfully crisp with a pleasant tartness that accentuated the flavor of the ‘dressing’ that had been applied. Geo happily dug in.

The meal was tasty, small, and surprisingly filling. A soup followed the salad, then a meat stew with a large variety of tubers of varying colors, a chilled fruit and pastry dish, and then a small "night cap" of fine sweet "liquor" which to Geo tasted more like a mild sweet wine.

"That was a wonderful meal! Please give my compliments to your cook. Or do you have a chef?" Geo said.

"Just my butler, Oarsman, I'm afraid." Hesh replied.

"Oh." Geo said, worried she may have put her foot in it.

"Not to worry." Hesh chuckled, seeing Geo's worry. "Everyone says that. Oarsman is a master of several trades. Now, down to business. I understand from the reports I have read, that you are considered 'under age' in your home culture?"

"Yes. I am not considered an adult until I reach 18 years of age. Even then, we don't reach full maturity until around 24." Geo said.

"Then I must ask if you will be able to actually understand and process all of the information you will be getting in your classes?" Hesh asked, feathers ruffling in a show of concern.

"I am used to spending 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, in school, not to mention the 2-3 hours of homework a day for the last 2 years. I started school when I was 7 years old. Your 'heavy' class schedule of 4 hours of learning per day should be fine." Geo replied. I hope it will be fine.

"Wow! Such dedication to education! I am most impressed!" Hesh said, sounding very excited. "Then I will expect great things from you, young miss!"

Geo swallowed, then said, "I will try to live up to your expectations." What have I just gotten myself into?

The pair spent quite some time talking before Geo made her excuses, and departed for her new living accommodations.