The Hook Tooth fleet was three vessels strong now. Admiral Rannek's ship, the Red Siren, led the fleet. Captain Bracken's ship, the Space Spray, was a captured cargo vessel, fitted with two brand-new Aegis Dynamics blaster cannons. Their newest acquisition, the Obsidian, was a small transport they'd captured last week.
Admiral Rannek grinned wolfishly. A fat, slow merchant ship had just wallowed into the sector from the spinward jumphole.
"There are our next payday," he said over the comms. "We'll hit her hard, grab her goods, and jump out through the rimward jumphole."
"We're ready," Bracken commed back.
The last few weeks had been amazing. They'd attacked four commercial vessels and an outpost. They didn't even have enough pilots to steal the last ship, so after they'd emptied it of cargo, they blew it up for target practice.
Hook Tooth's crew had swelled in numbers. Nothing attracted crewmembers like success, and true to the Bolt's reports, there was no Navy in sight. They'd had it all their own way for weeks now.
Rannek opened the public comms channel.
"Attention merchant vessel. This are Admiral Rannek of the Hook Tooth Pirates. Halt, power down engines, and prepare to be boarded."
The merchant vessel slowed and stopped. The three vessels of the Hook Tooth fleet surrounded the hapless ship. Bracken's Space Spray began disgorging shuttles. Rannek smiled.
"My boarding shuttles are away, Admiral," Bracken said, watching from the bridge of the Space Spray.
It was a good day to be a pirate.
The shuttles landed in the docking bay. It was a little unusual that their target hadn't even opened comms, but maybe they were meekly accepting their fate, bowing their heads for the slaughter.
Like all good Imperials should. Rannek grinned.
The silence stretched out.
Bracken's voice crackled from Rannek's console.
"Admiral, my boarders say there are no cargo. And no people."
Rannek's brows drew down.
"Are she a ghost ship?"
"I don't like it, Admiral. I say we leave it be."
"Yeah. Get your men back. Let's find a different target."
A few moments later, Bracken's voice came back through.
"Admiral, the men say the docking bay doors won't open back up!"
Rannek grimaced and began powering up his engines.
"Leave 'em," he said. "We need to get out of here."
"But Admiral, the men--"
"It are either them, or it are all of us! Let's go!"
Admiral Rannek's ship had already turned toward the rimward jumphole when an alarm went off on his console. Something was jumping into the sector from the spinward jumphole.
"Every ship for herself!" Rannek yelled into the comms. He hit the emergency override to redline his engines.
Even though he was expecting it, his stomach dropped when six Imperial destroyers jumped in.
"Bracken, get out of there!" he screamed. Rannek was nearly to the rimward jumphole, but the Space Spray wasn't as nimble as the Red Siren. Space Spray rolled slowly toward an escape vector, but the destroyers were streaming in too fast. She'd never escape.
"I'll draw their fire!" Bracken cried. "You can get away, Admiral!"
"No, you stupid saat! Just run!"
The Spray's two blasters turned toward the oncoming destroyers.
Bracken only managed to get two shots off. The destroyers opened up with their dozens of blasters, hammering the pirate ship to pieces in seconds.
Wheezing with terror, Rannek accelerated his ship into the jumphole. He couldn't even spare the attention to see what might have happened to the Obsidian.
The trip through jumpspace scattered his thoughts. He tried to think through the local jump map, where he could lose the Navy, confuse his trail, escape, but the psychic chaos of jumpspace did not lend itself to calm reflection.
It's hard to think clearly when the space and time are disintegrating around you.
The Red Siren popped out into the next sector. Rannek found himself staring directly into the guns of the ISS Swordheart. The blasters glowed, ready to fire.
His console came to life, showing the grimmest visage of the Imperium.
"Attention pirate vessel. This is Admiral Stonefist of the Ninth Fleet. It is your very lucky day. You have this single, sole opportunity to surrender. Cooperate with our inquiries, and you will be handled mercifully."
Rannek's knees weakened. Admiral Stonefist. Every pirate's bogeyman.
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"I surrender," Admiral Rannek said meekly.
The face on his console grinned, not in a pleasant way.
"I look forward to hearing all about who you've been talking to recently," Admiral Stonefist said.
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Kinnit stood alone in the middle of her bedroom with the tattered cloak in her hands. Pale moonlight illuminated her, reminding her of her home on Takkar. She was slowly running the fabric of the cloak through her fingers.
Who was she, anyway?
One the one hand, she was a Navy Assistant, serving a great hero on board the pride of the Imperium. She believed and loved the ideals of the Imperium, and lived them every day to the best of her ability.
On the other hand, she was a rebel: a rabble-rouser, a criminal and a ganger: misused, abused, misunderstood and oppressed. She hated the establishment of the SSes, hated what had been done to her in spite of all her loyalty and hard work.
The big operation was coming up soon. She had to decide which way she would go. Betrayal for honor, or betrayal for liberty?
The decision would be a whole lot easier if she could even figure out who she wanted to be.
Kinnit closed her eyes and buried her face in the warm cloak.
There were no easy solutions, either way.
Kinnit's mind went back to her childhood, when things were easy, when the good guys and the bad guys were easy to tell apart.
Back in the creche, Dame Haffa would sing her haunting songs. Songs that taught her about her world. Songs that pulled at her heart. The songs of the Kobolds.
And that's who she was. She was a little Kobold. A Kobold who wanted to believe the best of people. A Kobold who was diligent and kind. A Kobold who would bring her people to the stars.
Above all, she was a Kobold who was in love with Grimthorn Stonefist.
The tattered cloak slid out of her fingers to the floor, followed by fat tears dropping from her eyes.
Tazrika was a fiction, a shadow. A mere reflection of her anger, not a whole person.
She was Kinnit Longlegs, and she needed her Grimthorn.
Kinnit lifted her head and began singing, a song of heartache. Her soft, hooting melody filled the room, filled with longing and aching loneliness.
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Dass and Kinnit sat at the kitchen table working out their plans.
"The invasion by the Electroveil Collective will be a nice distraction," Dass said, "but getting you into a secured area is still going to be a problem. There just aren't many SSes in that secure area."
Kinnit nodded.
"Plus, my collar will trip all kinds of alarms, I'm sure."
"Oh, that's the easy part. I'm Naval Intelligence. I can get into the system and designate you as my ride-along for a visit. That will fool the computers, but people with eyes will have a lot of questions about an SS in a highly secure area."
Kinnit frowned.
"Maybe... maybe you should go in alone," she said reluctantly.
"It's a two-person operation. One of us will scan the office, but the other needs to be watchful, keeping our exfiltration path open."
"How do I get in there, then?"
Dass rubbed the back of his head.
"There's a way. You're not gonna like it."
"Tell me."
"Well, I can... disguise you."
"Disguise me how?"
Dass picked up his scanner from the table. His hand melted, flowed around the device, and sucked it into his body. He wiggled his fingers to show it was gone.
"What are showing me?" Kinnit asked. "I don't understand--"
She paled suddenly. An involuntary shudder ran through her body. She shoved her chair back away from him and leapt to her feet.
"You want to... do that to me?"
He shrugged, and the scanner oozed back out of his hand to clatter on the table.
"It's called 'envelopment.' It would cover you up, get you in."
Kinnit closed her eyes, trying to think objectively about the proposal, pushing hard to get past her revulsion. She had to forcibly keep herself from hyperventilating at the very thought.
Dass waited patiently while she struggled with herself, shaking her head, mincing and shuddering.
At long last, she was able to take a deep breath.
"Sorry," she said. "It's not you. I just... you're right, I don't like the idea. It makes sense, though."
"Oh, good," he said, and laid his hand on hers. Kinnit squeaked and snatched her hand away. Dass roared laughter and shook his head. "We're gonna need to practice," he said.
Kinnit nodded with an unconscious grimace of disgust.
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Admiral Stonefist sat at his desk, resting his face on his folded hands, staring into space. Lieutenant Baric sat at his desk, his hands hovering over his console, waiting for Admiral Stonefist to speak.
Many of the Hook Tooth pirates had been taken alive. Most of them had been low-level crewmembers, in it for the opportunity to make some easy money. Only a very few had been privy to what had been going on behind the scenes.
Regardless of their opportunism or loyalty, they'd all be spending the rest of their natural lives in prison. It didn't please Grimthorn. He'd been considering the ancient practice of gibbeting. A couple pirate corpses strapped to the front of the Swordheart would send the kind of message he wanted.
But he'd promised clemency for those who cooperated.
At long last he drew in a long breath.
"Okay," he said. "Okay. So now the conspiracy-- this 'Bolt of Justice'-- is funding pirates." He nodded as he talked through his thoughts. "We'll step up our patrols, and bring this to the other fleets, get them patrolling as well. This information all needs to go to the Cryptographers, as well."
He sighed.
"I don't know that I get the Bolt's play, here. If we knew what they were after, we could predict where the pirates would raid next. We can't just keep patrolling randomly. There's too much space out in space. We need to narrow it down. Where are the raids concentrated, Sol?"
Lieutenant Baric started, and began tapping at his console.
"I'll run some numbers on that, sir."
A disappointed frown crept onto Grimthorn's face. Lieutenant Sol Baric was diligent and competent, but Kinnit would have already had all that information to hand.
Sol winced at Grimthorn's expression. He tried to type faster, but data wrangling was not his strong suit.
"Sorry, sir, I'll try to be fast."
"Don't worry, Lieutenant. You're doing just fine."
The clacking of Lieutenant Baric's console slowed and stopped. Grimthorn looked up to see Sol's hands clenched into fists, trembling to each side of his console.
"I'm not, sir."
"What's that?"
"I'm not fine, sir. I see the way you look at me, and I, I know I'm not as good as Kinnit. I'm trying my hardest. But I know it's not good enough." Tears stood in the young Lieutenant's eyes as he stared fiercely at his console. "I used to think I was good at my job, but now I know I'm not."
Grimthorn frowned. Had he been so transparent? The famously impenetrable Admiral Stonefist was leaking his emotions onto his subordinates now?
"Sol, I'm sorry I've been making you feel that way. I have been upset lately, but it's not because of your work. It's because of all this nonsense that CenCom's pulled with Kinnit."
"If I was better--"
"No. I need you. I also need Kinnit. I've been spoiled by having the two best Assistants in the Navy." He sighed. "You two are my arms. Now I'm working with one arm tied behind my back. One arm can't take the place of two. That doesn't make my remaining arm worth less."
Sol looked thoughtful for a moment.
"I... think I understand, sir."
"Good."
They worked in silence for a while.
"I miss her," Lieutenant Baric said suddenly. "She made the office so much more lively."
Admiral Stonefist felt his heart pierced by a longing for Kinnit. He sighed.
"I miss her too. We will get her back."
His face hardened.
"Everything in my power," he said quietly to himself.