Secrets

Alwen had been on the ship for thirty-six standard Terran cycles and they had visited several backwater stations, all of which Alice insisted on escorting Alwen through. Alwen enjoyed her company, and the noticeable swords allice kept on her hip, because unlike the grand and impressive Femeri station, Parox was a shithole.

It served primarily as an off-world prison for dangerous criminals, and as a trade stop in between several major Orion hyperlanes. There she got to meet the largest Terran ‘community’ outside of the Sol system. Community wasn’t exactly the word Alwen would use herself, slum or ghetto fit much better for the packed and filthy Terran quarter on Parox. With some real respectable business’s rising from the muck.

Space was always a premium on stations were any expansion came at great cost, but at least there was an order to the tight spaces and compact living areas on Femeri. The Terrans here all seemed largely ambivalent to any sort of urban organization and just built wherever they found space. Her visit into the Terran quarter left her feeling claustrophobic and dirty, and the hole in the wall bar Alice had found for their group wasn’t very impressive. At least the booze and company were fun.

She even got to meet a few more of her ‘fellow’ deathworlders. The bartender was Kaydic, a massive shaggy bipedal mammalian man with an impressive three horns on top of his head. To her eyes he seemed a cross between Ursiloids and Lycanoids. He was herbivorous despite the fearsome visage, though apparently they sometimes chewed on small lizards to help supplement their diet, which meant they received the classification as Omnivore by Union standards. The marines referred to all Kaydic’ah as Trikes, simply for the three horns on their heads.

The Balikstro women in the bar took an instant liking to Alwen on account of the natural bone structures on her face. Rather than a woven fiber clothing, her kind took to wearing molded bone plates instead. A small quirk in their homeworld’s biology allowed for animal bones to became soft and moldable like clay when properly prepared. The Balikstro covered their midnight black bodies in these plates and painted them proudly in many colors and pictographic writing.

The night, despite the location and the strange discussion meeting of the other deathworlders, had been very fun. And the morning blindness almost felt worth it.

Since then the three other stations they visited followed the same general model, a Terran slum overflowing with ex-convicts, mixed easily with several other deathworlders. These places were apparently where the Astaroth could easily unload her ‘cargo’ and leave without anyone the wiser.

Today though Alwen was in the med bay checking Gato’s progress when the ship entered condition three, and like always the burly marine struggled against his loosened binds.

“Vi I’m perfectly fine, I’ve fully healed.” Gato complained, like he always did when the ship entered combat.

“Mmm-hmm” she hummed as she stuck her thumb into the raw patch of exposed skin.

“Ahh, dammit, why’d you stick your thumb in it” he growled, exposing long white fangs as he snarled at her.

Alwen looked up from her chart and batted a lash at him “To prove to you that you’re not fully healed”

He turned his “Fine, it still hurts. But I’m healed enough to start working out again”

“Not until Doctor Djani says you’re clear and won’t tear it open again” Doctor Bachir mumbled from the microscope in the corner.

This had become their little routine; Alwen would work with the patients while Bachir would attend to his studies. Apparently he had been primarily a medical researcher before he was expelled from Olympus Mons university for reasons he didn’t feel like discussing.

Limey had received treatment for his burns and returned to work a week after he came in, and MK(mechanic) Douglas had received a custom made cybernetic prosthetic and returned to engineering good as new. He still came in from time to time to talk with Alwen and work out some of the psychological trauma of losing a limb, but beyond that he was on his way to a full recovery.

Which only left the much more severely injured Gato. Whom, if it were up to him, would have left as soon as he could stand without falling. His constant complaints about bed sores and muscle stiffness fell on deaf ears, as he had apparently tricked Bachir before and had reopened all the stiches in his thighs after he snuck off to do some deadlifts. They weren’t taking any chances this time, even if the bedrest was starting to drive him stir crazy.

“That said Doctor” Alwen said looking over Gato’s chart. “These numbers look pretty good, I think we should be safe to let him go, granted he comes in for biweekly checkups.”

Bachir grunted and left the microscope to take a look over her shoulder “He’ll have to remain off combat duty a little longer, but it would be good for him to stretch his muscles. Fine release the restraints”

“Should I write up a physical therapy schedule?”

“No need he’s done this before and knows what his body needs better than us” he grumbled as he leaned back over the microscope.

The ship went back to condition two and she worked at removing the straps, a durable cord used in securing heavy cargo that was already starting to fray from his constant struggles. Alwen would have thought them cruel and barbaric, but Bachir had assured her it was the only way to prevent certain crew members from reinjuring themselves.

Gatp rubbed his wrists. “Thanks Vi” he said, using the almost endearing nickname he insisted on using. It was apparently a shortened version of the word violet in English, it didn’t translate well into common so he just used the English word.

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“No need, just make sure you’re back here in two days” she said as he tested the ground on wobbly feet. He jumped from foot to foot until he felt confident enough to stride out of the wardroom.

She watched as he left, and the ship returned to condition one “What do you think we hit this time?”

The Ursiloid’s ear twitched “As brief as that was I’d guess a small drug runner”

“That’s the fifth one since I came aboard”

“They’re easy prey. Cartels don’t tell authorities when they lose a shipment.” He began to fiddle with a dial on the side.

“So what do we do with the drugs anyway?” she asked casually. Most crew kept quiet about the ship’s business, but Alwen had found that if she probed Bachir casually with some small talk she could usually get a small hint to how the ship ran.

“Cartels don’t run refined product; they take the base compounds and funnel them to their labs planet side. Each species has different tolerances and preferences, it’s easier to push out raw product and let local kingpins do what they want with it.”

“So what does the captain do with them?” she asked again, a little disgust creeping into her voice. She knew not to expect better from pirates, but the captain made her feel this ship was above drug money.

“Sells’em. Those chemicals are also useful in the pharmaceutical industry, and the few labs on different stations the captain knows of are always looking for cheaper supplies.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to sell them back to the kingpins?”

“Maybe, but the cartels would punish them for dealing with the pirates who stole from them in the first place. Besides the captain has a personal code of ethics, I don’t know all of them, but item number three she said is ‘fuck drug lords’” he said this last one with a chuckle.

“A pirate captain with a code of ethics?”

“Yes, she mostly keeps it to herself. But occasionally she mentions one item or another. The Adela has been collecting the little tidbits and compiled it into a short list. Number three is ‘fuck drug lords’, four is no sapient trafficking, five was don’t touch refugees, seven is no wanton murder, and we only vaguely know number eight. Something about not becoming to ‘friendly’ with the crew.”

“Friendly?”

“Yes, Adela has made several open offers that the captain refuses on the grounds of rule eight”

“Ohhhh, that kind of friendly. Still a pirate captain with a code of ethics is a bit unusual” she said probing for more on the captain.

“We all need to make our peace with one devil or another” a strong female voice said behind Alwen. She turned to see that the captain was in full armor leaning against the door with a toothy grin. How long had she been there? Better yet, how did she keep sneaking up on Alwen in full armor? “And rule eight is officially -No rolling random crewmates for fun” she said with a wink as she walked in.

“Can I help you captain?” Doctor Bachir asked, finally pulling away from the microscope.

“We just hit another Guthulu Cartel ship, and we found some substances we can’t identify, I was hoping you could lend your expertise”

His head cocked to the side “Something new?”

“Looks like it”

“I see, I will grab my field-testing kit” he turned to grab something out of the medical cabinet before he followed the captain out, “Keep an eye on things for me” he called before he left.

Alwen watched them go before she went to one of her medical journals. She kept many paper journals despite the ship’s various database’s, something about the feel of real pen and paper helped her organize her thoughts better, haptic feedback. This one however was her own personal journal; one she wrote exclusively in her own tongue. Something about these pirates didn’t feel right, and she compiled every little incongruent fact in this one inconspicuous journal.

About a week after she had learned the truth she found that certain little facts didn’t add up and niggled at the back of her mind, so she started this journal. At the top of the list was -structured crew. This crew was as organized and professional as Torwen’s military, and the term privateer didn’t really cover up that incongruous fact given the other strange things she learned about this ship. Number two was -advanced purpose-built ship, Karega said the ship was custom built. And with her research into FTL in the union she knew this ship was much faster than an average vessel of its size, which meant very advanced and expensive systems.

Doctor Bachir’s research was number three. He was much smarter than any pirate doctor should be, three and a half PHDs he said. That and the fact that he was genuinely convinced his research was for the common good.

Now she added number four -a code of ethics, counter intuitive to common piracy. It wasn’t much, but it beginning to paint a picture.

~~~*~~~

“You two were chatting up a storm in there” Astarte commented dryly.

Bachir huffed “the girl’s just curious about the ship, it was all small talk”

“Small talk around big secrets” she countered.

“Can you blame me, I personally would like for her to stay on board and take the mark, it would be much easier to convince her if she knew”

“Well at least you and the Bosun can agree on one thing. He’s been talking my ear off about her. Little girl stands up to his tyranny one time and suddenly she’s the only thing he talks about” Aster grumbled, Bosun and Brown agreeing on things was a sign of the apocalypse.

“He’s an old man and never had any children of his own. You know how he takes to fostering the young ones with spirit.” Bachir said softly. He and the Bosun had many differences and fought often, but they had a strong respect for each other. Bachir respected hopw the Bosun would foster the younger members of the crew, and in turn Highland respected Bachir for his intelligence and attentive care.

Aster knew very well what Bachir was referencing. When she got beat up by the big kids back home Highland made a mixture of salt and lime juice to rub in the wounds and taught her how to fight back. Soon enough she could take on those same big kids like a rabid wolverine until they walked the other way when they saw her. Some still avoided her in New Mombasa whenever she visited. “I understand its hard, but please try not to spill all the ship’s secrets. If she doesn’t take the mark then she might become a liability in the future.”

“I will try” he said noncommittally.

Aster wanted to press the issue further when Karega called at her from down the hall. She let Bachir go and turned to her lieutenant. “News on the Circe?” she asked. Circe was the flagship of her trading company and it had recently missed its delivery date, and remained out of contact.

“Yeah, but I think we need to discuss this in private.” He led her through the halls and up a few decks until they reached her private quarters through the hall on the officers deck. “Medea discovered Circe’s remains along the Parox-Sol hyperlanes, cargo gone, crew missing. There weren’t many bodies which means whoever attacked took them alive. There were two conspicuous holes cut into the side”

“The Coiled Strike” she growled.

“My thoughts exactly, I also have a suspicion that they were behind the second attack on that mining base too. The sensor contact we got before we left could match the Coiled Strike easily.”

“By the saints, those snaky bastards were following us to try and pick off our scraps. I was trying to keep Circe and the other freighters separate from the Hellworder fleet, they aren’t protected by the Code” she rubbed her forehead. The massacre on that base was why she and her crew were stuck picking off drug peddlers rather than running some of their normal jobs. This was exactly why she had chosen not to annihilate the whole base; massacres drew more attention than a hit and run.

“What can we do?”

“Well we could break the code and kill them, but then we would be at war with every pirate in the Milky Way. We could escort every freighter from now on, but that would tie one of our few extrasolar business’ directly to the Astaroth. We could make a formal complaint to the confederacy, but the Coiled Strike operates under Kazlum’s control, he could legally block our case and prevent it from ever moving forward.”

“I’m still surprised that pirates have a court system” Karega commented.

“It was a part of the confederacy’s appeal” she said dryly as she thought it through. “Why take the crew?”

“Slaves?” he offered “Slavers pay top credit for Deathworld workers”

“Right, but there aren’t many slaving operations in Orion, not since we dismantled Gaw’s empire. And I doubt the Eggads would take them far”

“I think you’re supposed to pronounce the name a little deeper in the throat, something like Egh’ahd.”

She ignored Karega, alien words and sounds didn’t always fit human throats, no point in trying to get it perfect. Especially if she was planning on wringing their necks. “That means they have a buyer here in Orion, a buyer not a part of the confederacy. We eliminate enough slavers here in Orion and maybe we can force them out of the sector”

“That could work, I will need to get in touch with the contact on Parox to see if they can give us a direction.

The Parox contact was an interspecies husband/wife pair. A Trike and a Bone’women, the husband ran a hole in the wall bar while the wife ran the law firm in charge of the Astaroth’s legal affairs. They had been the ones to recommend her crew to the Femeri brothers. Nice couple really, they even had an open relationship that allowed Astarte to practice her captain Kirk impression on several occasions.

“Good, we’ll sell this haul and start to pick off the slavers in Orion, maybe even find the thirty or so crew from the Circe. We may even be able make the trip productive somehow.”

“And the Egh’ahds?”

“They will get what’s coming eventually, we just need to play our cards right.”