The Jupiter Pirates (10 page)

Yana shook her head at him in amazement.

“Thanks for taking over communications,” Tycho added. “You were right.”

“Any time,” Yana said.

“Quiet back there!” Diocletia barked as the
Comet
shook again, more violently this time. Tycho tried to remind himself that the
Hydra
was still too far away for her guns to do real damage.

“Carlo, talk to me!” Diocletia said.

“Going fast as I can,” Carlo said. “At the current rate of fuel burn—”

“Give me the short version—are we going to make it or not?” Diocletia asked.

“It'll be close,” Carlo said. “One minute to docking.”

The ship shuddered again. Diocletia activated her microphone.

“Mr. Grigsby, fire at will,” she said. “Defend this ship and all who sail on her.”

“That we shall, Captain,” Grigsby said.

A moment later the
Comet
shook again, but this time it was due to the recoil of her guns. The first volley of shots grew to a continuous roar as Grigsby's crews opened up on the pursuing pirates.

“Arrr!” Huff roared. “We'll blast you clear back to Io, Mox!”

The
Comet
shuddered, there was a shriek of metal, and her nose pitched sideways.

“Pursuers in range,” Vesuvia said.

“No kidding,” Yana muttered.

Mavry pointed out the forward viewport. The fuel tanks were a bright dot ahead.

“After we dock, what heading do you want?” Tycho asked.

“Anywhere but here,” Diocletia said.

The
Comet
's tanks grew in size, becoming a cluster of dots. But the ship continued to shudder as the pinnaces' cannons hammered away at her.

“Mr. Grigsby?” Diocletia asked.

“Givin' it everything we've got, Captain,” Grigsby yelled back over the roar.

“Hang on,” warned Carlo. He shoved the control yoke left and the
Comet
slewed that way; then he cut the throttle as the ship shot upward into the fuel tanks' cradle of struts. Something flashed on the screen, and a cheer erupted from belowdecks.

“Got one!” Tycho exulted. One of the pinnaces was retreating the way it had come, wounded by Grigsby's gunners.

The
Comet
jumped and rattled as another explosion jolted her. Then they heard the clank of the hull brackets locking themselves into the tank attachments. The ship shook hard enough to fling them sideways in their restraints.

“Sorry about the bump,” Carlo said.

“Stabilizers engaged,” Vesuvia said. “Connecting fuel lines.”

“Come on, come on, come on!” Tycho urged.

The
Comet
shook again. What could be taking Vesuvia so long?

“Fuel lines connected,” Vesuvia said.

Carlo stomped on the throttle, and the acceleration slammed them back in their seats, hard enough to force their eyes closed and drive the air out of their lungs. Even Huff grabbed for the ladder. Tycho grunted, trying to breathe, as the
Comet
rocketed away from her pursuers into the safety of deep space.

The thunder of the guns ceased belowdecks. After a moment the brutal acceleration eased, leaving the Hashoones sitting in stunned silence.

“Carlo, that was good flying,” Diocletia said.

“Thank you, Captain,” Carlo said with a smile.

Diocletia turned to nod at Yana and Tycho.

“And that was a smooth handoff of duties under fire,” she added.

Yana and Tycho exchanged relieved looks.

“Sheesh. See if I try to sell sulfides to that guy again,” Mavry said.

Diocletia looked over at her husband, still wearing his goggles and cap.

“You should wear that hat more often, dear,” she said with a faint smile. “But only if you stop picking your nose. It's a disgusting habit.”

 

11
RETURN TO CERES

O
nce the engineer verified that the
Comet
had taken only minor damage in her encounter with the
Hydra
, Diocletia ordered Carlo to plot a course back to Ceres—their next court date with Judge Quence was just a couple of days away. Besides, she explained, the Jovian Defense Ministry would need time to consider her report of the close encounter with Mox.

As they went about their duties, Tycho noticed that Yana looked preoccupied. After Carlo calculated the proper course for their trip to Ceres, she asked Vesuvia to replay the transmission from the
Hydra
.

“Why do you want to look at Thoadbone's ugly mug again, missy?” asked Huff. “Once is one time too often to have to see that vacuum-hearted traitor.”

“Just watch,” Yana said. “Vesuvia, play it back.”

Once again Mox was on the main screen, demanding that the
Comet
submit to boarding by his thugs.

“There!” Yana said. “I know that man.”

“We all know Thoadbone Mox,” Carlo said with a snort, though Tycho was pretty sure his brother had gotten his first look at the scarred old pirate at the same time Tycho and Yana had.

“Not Mox,” Yana said, irritated. “Vesuvia, freeze the image.
That
man.”

She pointed to one of the crewers over Mox's left shoulder, a spacer who struck Tycho as much like any other, aside from his choice of company.

“Remember him from Ceres?” Yana asked.

“You mean the guy we followed from the courtroom—Suud's aide?” Tycho asked. “Sorry, Yana, but it's not him.”

“Would you wait a second?” Yana asked, tapping at her mediapad. “Vesuvia, split the screen in two. Leave the man from the
Hydra
on the left and put this image from my mediapad on the right.”

“Rendering image,” Vesuvia said.

A moment later the new image came up on the screen. It was the picture Yana had snapped of Suud's aide when she'd pushed Tycho into the Martian spacer. There were two men next to him, who'd also turned to see what had caused the commotion. The man in the middle was the one on the quarterdeck of the
Hydra
.

Mavry whistled.

“I don't think I want to know how you wound up taking a picture of a crewer on Thoadbone Mox's pirate ship,” Diocletia said.

“You're right—you don't,” Yana said.

Mother and daughter stared at each other for a moment. Then Diocletia sighed.

“Okay, Yana, well observed,” Diocletia said. “Now what does it mean?”

“It means Threece Suud is working with Mox,” Yana said.

Mavry cocked an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Okay, someone working with Threece Suud is also working with one of Mox's bridge crew,” Yana said. “Is that better?”

“Much,” said Mavry.

“It's an interesting connection, isn't it?” asked Yana.

“All they were doing was walking together,” said Carlo. “What if they're old friends? Or brothers?”

That seemed ridiculous to Tycho, and he started to say so, but then he stopped. Huff was an old pirate, but during his career he'd come to know Jovian Defense Force officers, judges on Ceres, and nobles from Ganymede. The solar system was a big place, Tycho thought, but human connections could make it feel small.

“If they're friends or brothers, that's even more interesting,” Yana told Carlo. “I'm telling you, there's no way it's a coincidence to find one of Suud's aides walking with a member of Mox's bridge crew.”

Diocletia cut off Carlo before he could speak.

“We're all tired,” she said. “I don't know what it means, and I don't think we're going to figure it out now. The only thing I know for sure is that I don't like it.”

 

The Hashoones hadn't even sat down in Judge Quence's courtroom when Threece Suud came striding over, smiling in a way that showed a lot of very big white teeth and reminded Tycho of ancient Earth predators he'd seen in holo-documentaries. He wasn't wearing his iridescent suit today; instead, he wore a long scarlet coat with tails over a ruffled black shirt.

“Captain Hashoone,” he said to Diocletia, taking her hand in both of his and bowing over it. “I'm afraid we got off on the wrong foot last time. It's unfortunate to be adversaries in the courtroom before one is formally introduced.”

“And yet that is what we are—adversaries,” said Diocletia, jerking her hand out of his.

Suud looked like he hadn't noticed her reaction, turning to Mavry and extending his hand. Mavry ignored it, and after a moment Suud pulled the hand back.

“Mr. Malone,” Suud said, giving Mavry a shallower bow than his wife had received.

“It's
First Mate
Malone,” Mavry said. “That's quite an outfit, Councilor Suud. You must be the talk of Ceres.”

“It's
Secretary
Suud,” Suud replied with a frosty smile. “I'm glad you like it. It's zero-gravity fibers, made to order by Hong Kong tailors according to a thousand years of family tradition. I'd be honored to give you their card.”

“That's very kind of you, Mr. Suud,” Mavry said. “But I'm afraid we're not so formal aboard the
Shadow Comet
.”

Suud smiled minutely and extended his hand to Huff, who turned his back with a dismissive grunt. Undeterred, he turned to the younger Hashoones.

“Carlo, Tycho, and Yana,” he said. “Your reputations precede you. Your parents must be very proud.”

“Don't speak to my children, Suud,” Diocletia snapped. “May I remind you that you've accused them of all manner of crimes?”

“It's okay, Mother,” Carlo said. “It's an honor to serve as bridge crew aboard the
Comet
, Secretary Suud. Just as it's an honor to do our patriotic duty as privateers in service of the Jovian Union.”

He smiled at Suud and offered a very slight bow of his own. Yana grinned.

“Your sense of duty is commendable,” Suud said. “But duty is often difficult, of course. As I understand it, you are all competitors for the captaincy. Isn't that the Jovian tradition?”

“That's correct,” Carlo said, his eyes wary.

“How awkward,” Suud said with a sad smile and wide eyes. “Even without considering the legal ambiguity and moral uncertainty of your profession, it must be a terrible strain to be rivals as well as siblings. Knowing that one of you will be captain, but the other two will see their dreams dashed.”

“We're used to it,” Carlo said frostily.

“Now look here, you little weasel—” Huff growled. The stump of his forearm swiveled frantically, sensing how badly Huff wanted to shoot somebody.

“A moment, Mr. Hashoone,” Suud said, smiling, before turning back to Carlo, Yana, and Tycho. “I am merely concerned for your welfare. I'm sure operating an antique starship is exciting, but what about your futures? On Earth you'd be receiving a first-rate education, one that would prepare you for any number of possible careers.”

“Careers?” demanded Huff. “What, train 'em to be bilge-suckin' gum flappers or dead-eyed paper pushers? What lad or lass what's right in the head would pick rottin' in school over the life of a pirate?”

“Privateer,” Diocletia said, stepping between her father and Suud. “It's obvious you don't know the first thing about running a starship, Secretary. I'll wager my children know more about mathematics and physics than most Earth children do. What's more—”

The bailiff rapped his staff on the floor and called the court to order. Judge Quence was waddling out of his chambers with his wig on backward. As Quence rearranged his hairpiece properly atop his head, Suud gave the Hashoones a last smile and bow, then offered the same to the Jovian Union officials sitting behind them. He then took his place at the table on his side of the courtroom, next to a glum-looking Soughton.

“I don't like that man,” Yana whispered to Tycho as he sat down in front of her at the table with Diocletia.

“Neither do I,” Tycho replied. Yana, he saw, was scanning the bureaucrats sitting behind Suud and Soughton.

“Second row, on the aisle,” she whispered. “It's the aide we saw with Mox's crewer. No, Tyke, don't look!”

Diocletia gave them both a glower of warning.

“Now then,” Judge Quence said. “Before we once again take up the matter of the
Cephalax II
and her alleged diplomatic immunity, I have a question for Secretary Suud.”

Suud shot to his feet, the heels of his glossy shoes clicking together. Tycho wondered what expensive orbital factory had made them.

“It would be an honor, Your Honor,” Suud said with a deep bow.

“My heart leaps to hear it,” Judge Quence said. “It seems another Jovian privateer is on its way to Ceres with a prize seized in deep space. This prize is an Earth-registered freighter carrying a hold full of fourth-degree synthetic fertilizer, captured with one engine unlit and her air scrubbers running at twenty-five percent efficiency.”

“Dunno who the lucky privateer is, Quencie, but her captain can have 'er!” burst out Huff.

Judge Quence brought the gavel down so hard that his wig flipped off his head and disappeared behind him.

“Sorry, Quen—Your Honor,” Huff said sheepishly as Quence and the bailiff hunted behind the podium for the escaped wig. Judge Quence reappeared a moment later, red-faced but with his wig back in place.

“Now then,” Quence said. “What particularly interests me, Secretary Suud, is that in addition to her rather dull cargo and lengthy list of inspection violations, this freighter was carrying an Earth diplomat—one who only recently joined the diplomatic service. What might you know about all this, Secretary Suud?”

Judge Quence folded his hands and looked serenely out at Suud.

If Suud was worried, though, he didn't show it. He stepped in front of the table and turned to the courtroom with a wide smile, as if nothing would make him happier than to discuss diplomatic credentialing with those attending a session of the Ceres Admiralty Court.

“Your Honor, Earth desires close, cordial relationships with all its former colonies, whatever the current regrettable state of affairs between them,” Suud said. “Achieving that outcome is the principal goal of all members of the diplomatic corps.”

“I wasn't looking for an appreciation of Earth's diplomats, fine people though they surely are,” Judge Quence said. “What I'd like to know is why they're increasingly turning up on old scows.”

Tycho's eyes widened. He leaned over to say something to Diocletia. She waved him away, but he shook his head insistently.

“What?” Diocletia demanded in a whisper.

Judge Quence gave Diocletia a warning glance but decided her offense wasn't grave enough for the gavel.

“Your Honor, in pursuing the goal of interplanetary friendship, occasionally the fastest way for diplomats to travel is aboard merchant ships registered with Earth,” Suud told the judge. “The diplomatic corps has struck arrangements . . .”

As Suud droned on, Tycho hurriedly told his mother what Countess Tiamat had said back at the party above Ganymede, about Earth registering hundreds of new diplomats.

Diocletia frowned at Tycho.

“You're sure that's what she said?” she asked.

Tycho nodded.

Judge Quence gave the gavel a short, sharp rap.

“Captain Hashoone, is this really the most appropriate time to be instructing one of your children?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon, Your Honor,” Diocletia said. “Tycho and I required a brief consultation. May I ask Secretary Suud a question?”

“That would obviously be inappropriate,” Suud snapped.

“By all means, Captain Hashoone,” Judge Quence said with a smile.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Diocletia said. “Secretary Suud, how many Earth diplomats are traveling aboard merchant ships at the moment?”

“Your interest in the work of His Majesty's diplomatic corps is commendable, Captain Hashoone,” Suud said. “It would be most appropriate for an answer to such inquiries to come from—”

BAM!
went the gavel.

“Answer the question, Secretary Suud,” Judge Quence barked.

Suud frowned and crouched in the aisle, speaking briefly to a female aide with a mediapad. He nodded and sat in his chair, looking down at his hands for a moment.

“Well?” Judge Quence asked.

“Currently there are four hundred and twelve,” Suud said.

Judge Quence's eyebrows shot upward. Carlo, Yana, and Tycho looked at one another. The Jovians behind them muttered in astonishment until Judge Quence gaveled the courtroom into silence.

“And how many merchant ships flying the flag of Earth are currently carrying cargoes in the solar system?” Diocletia asked.

“There is absolutely no way I am sharing such sensitive information with a known pirate!” Suud sputtered.