“No, hold your arm closer to your body. That’s too close. If you want to block an attack, you need to hold your weapon close enough to absorb the impact, but not so close that you end up cutting yourself. Here, let me.” Marissa grabbed hold of Nue’s arm, tilting her elbow downwards and adjusting her wrist so that the silver sword-shaped Lucidil crossed over the Rashani’s chest and up past her shoulder. “There, now give her a whack, Vis. Just one.”
She stepped aside and watched as Vis struck out with the practice baton, hitting hard against the Lucidil. Nue flinched but stood her ground, then suddenly pushed back, startling Vis and sending him stumbling backwards.
Marissa clapped her hands together. “Very good, Nue!”
The girl gave a shy smile, then resumed her defensive stance.
Vis wiped at his forehead. “I should have known that was coming.”
“Maybe I didn’t want you to see it coming,” Nue said, coyly.
“Since when have we been able to hide anything from each other?” Vis asked, chuckling.
Marissa stepped between them. Much as she enjoyed seeing the kids happy, the lesson had to go on. “What you need is focus. You always seem distracted by something, and that’s likely to get you killed someday.”
Vis shrugged. “You’re not the first to tell me I lack focus. Sad to say, you’re just another scolding voice on the subject.”
Marissa gave him a crooked glance. Despite Vis’ tendency to be disagreeable, she was enjoying this chance to help both the young Rashani with their training. She’d never imagined herself as a teacher, but with Mela’s attention divided between making plans and tending to Alis, someone needed to help the kids. And while Marissa knew nothing about Rashani powers and all that mystic stuff, she knew a hell of a lot about fighting.
“Don’t get snippy with me—I’m trying to help you not suck,” she said. “There must be some times when you can focus. Think about it.”
Vis glanced past Marissa to Nue, then around the hangar, as if he expected the furiously training mercs to be listening in on this lesson. He met her eyes reluctantly, his tongue moving sluggishly to answer. “When I’m alone.”
“Tough,” Marissa replied. “Some say the battlefield is the loneliest place there is, but I don’t think that’s the case when you’ve got people out for your blood. When else?”
Vis eyed Nue again, then breathed in deeply. “When I’m angry.”
Marissa smiled in encouragement. “Good, that’s better. You seem like such a grump normally, so focusing should be easy. OK, get angry.”
Vis folded his arms, his expression becoming defensive. “That is not the way of the Rashani. Anger stifles the mind, clouds judgment, and leads to mistakes. My anger is why I cannot use a Lucidil, and why I am not an apprentice yet. I must learn to act with complete control over my emotions, not surrender to them.”
“No one has complete control over their emotions,” Marissa said, flatly. “Isn’t that right, Nue?”
“Uh, um,” Nue replied, blushing.
“See?” Marissa put a hand on Vis’ shoulder, which the boy shrugged off in no time. “Sorry, but I’m trying to help you. Mela might seem like a stone-faced badass to you, but I fought beside her and saw her worry, plain as day. Rashani aren’t machines, and if what they do isn’t working for you, maybe you should try what does.”
Vis blinked with surprise. “What you’re suggesting goes against the teachings of some of the wisest women to ever live.”
Marissa shrugged. “Sometimes you’ve got to bend the rules if you want something to change. Besides, I bet all those wise women are long dead, so who cares what they thought? I’m standing here right now, and I’m telling you that a little rage has gotten me out of some of my toughest scrapes.”
Vis loosened his arms, fidgeting with the baton in his hand. He looked at Nue again, and Marissa felt the last of her patience give. She stepped to the side, blocking his view and forcing him to look at her. He bristled at that, fixing her with a petulant glare.
Marissa didn’t have time for such childish behaviour, and held his glare with what she hoped was a stern look. “I’m talking to you, Vis. You can gawk at Nue all you want when we’re done, but right now, you should be looking at me.”
A red glow spread over the boy’s face. “It’s nothing like that. I just—I respect Nue’s opinion, and if I’m to do what you suggest, I would like to hear what she has to say.”
Marissa sighed, exasperated. These Rashani were strangely dependent. Even Vis, who she’d pegged as a loner, seemed to have difficulty taking action on his own. Maybe that was useful to them in their normal lives, but this was an exceptional situation, and that dependence was a weakness. Despite that, Marissa gestured to Nue, inviting her to speak.
Nue looked surprised. “I think you should do whatever helps you, Vis.”
Vis tilted his head. “But it’s un-Rashani.”
“Still, if it makes you a better fighter, then it might benefit us all,” Nue stammered. “I don’t say this lightly, but you are different. Maybe you need to do things differently.”
Vis waited, as if he expected her to say more, but Nue had said her piece. He let out a mild groan. “Damn it, what do I have to lose? All right, I’ll try getting angry.”
“Good,” Marissa said, jabbing him—lightly—in the stomach.
Vis bent forward and clutched his hands over the point of impact, his whole body trembling. For a moment, Marissa worried that she’d hit him too hard, but then he lifted his head and scowled at her.
“What the hell was that for?” he roared.
“I wanted to see if you could take a punch. Evidently not.” Marissa forced a cocky smirk. She was not one-hundred-percent sure that what she was doing would work, but she’d already started and was determined to finish it. Hopefully Vis wouldn’t take it too hard afterward.
“That’s just mean!” Nue exclaimed. “You didn’t give him any warning!”
“A Rashani should have sensed my intent to attack before I’d made a fist,” Marissa shot back, pulling her detailed knowledge on Rashani from out of her own ass. She didn’t like playing the bully, but what came next was going to be even worse. “I guess that means you aren’t Rashani material.”
Vis snarled and started to speak, but another voice cut him off.
“How dare you!” Nue exclaimed, coming to meet Marissa face-to-face. “You don’t ever say something like that to my friend! I don’t care how good a fighter you are—you know less than half of what Vis does about what makes a Rashani.”
Marissa swallowed, considering what to do next. She hadn’t expected Nue to intervene. Vis seethed quietly beside his companion, his face plainly displaying what was in his heart. She’d gone too far, but he still refused to attack her. That should have been enough, but it looked like she had to do something more drastic. She steeled herself, wondering if a person who pretended to do bad things was any less of an asshole than someone who did them with genuine malice.
“Well, it doesn’t seem to take much, considering a scrawny little girl like you is on her way to being one.” Marissa spat the words out with genuine distaste in herself. “A strong breeze could knock you down. Do you really think you’ll survive against a real opponent? Take my advice—when the time comes to fight, stay on the ship.” Then, restraining her strength as much as she could, she gave Nue a shove that dropped the poor girl on her rear.
Without warning, Vis stepped towards her and lashed out with two blows. The first was a strike across Marissa’s face with the baton which split her lower lip, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the second attack. She felt his anger rushing into her mind, sending her senses into disarray and her feet stumbling backwards. She struggled against disorientation and the hammering behind her eyes, barely lifting her own baton in time to block Vis’ next attack. If that had been it, things might have been fine, but the boy was far from finished. He unleashed a hurricane of strikes, moving with surprising speed to smack her on the arms and legs. Marissa blocked about half of them, wincing when the baton lashed against her flesh. Just some bruises, probably, but she wasn’t sure about that. These attacks were not random, either; Vis weaved and darted around her, striking with precision and forceful intent. Marissa was so busy blocking that she had no chance to strike back, and Vis was gradually scoring more hits.
Nue scrambled to her feet. “Vis, stop! I’m OK!”
Vis didn’t listen, his teeth bared like an animal. He made as if to strike Marissa’s arm, then twisted his baton around and drove its end against her stomach. Marissa wheezed, more surprised than hurt, and stumbled back. With some space between them, she raised her baton into a defensive position. Vis came to a sudden halt, his body heaving from exertion. Marissa was breathing heavily herself, and she remained still, waiting.
A broad grin crossed the boy’s face. “You clever bitch! You tricked me.” He lowered his baton and let his shoulders drop, as if his anger had simply evaporated.
“Not clever, just a bitch,” Marissa panted, cautiously lowering her own baton. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to help, but the things I said—they were awful. I understand if you don’t want to practice with me anymore.”
Vis and Nue shared a look, as if communicating by thought alone. Could Rashani do that? Marissa had heard conflicting accounts.
“You’ve made me furious,” Vis said. “Do you think it helped?”
Marissa nodded. “I don’t think I’ve been that surprised by a fight in years.”
“Then I guess I’ve learned something from your lesson,” Vis replied. “I forgive you. Nue is another story.”
Nue brushed back a bang from her eyes, biting her lip. “No harm done, I guess.”
Marissa chuckled with relief. “Thank you. Now why don’t we try something less intense?”
A chime echoed across the hangar, heralding an announcement. The mercs stopped their drills, all heads lifted. Marissa prepared herself, already sure of what was going to be said.
“We are entering the asteroid field now.” Cassandra’s voice boomed across the hangar. “If the coordinates given are accurate, we should be able to locate Shiprest within the hour. In the meantime, we are in pirate territory, and all hands should be on guard. I would like Arc and Marissa Rhapsody to report to the bridge.” The speakers chimed again, then fell silent. The mercs chattered amongst themselves as they scrambled to their positions.
Marissa sighed, dropping her baton. “I guess I’ve got to go. You two sit tight. And Vis, remember what I’ve told you.”
“I won’t forget,” Vis said, bowing.
Marissa nodded back, then ran out of the hangar.
* * *
The bridge was cramped yet again. Marissa stood with Arc, the two of them joined by Mela and Fredrichs while Cassandra stood before them, peering out towards the distant asteroids. Narsh slumped in chains against one wall, with a Phal merc on either side holding tight grips on the restraints around his arms. Even without Barnes, things seemed more crowded.
Cassandra stepped back from the view and folded her claws behind her back. She strolled over to the captain’s chair, then sat down and spun it around to face Marissa and the others. “If we’re going to bargain with these pirates, we’re going to need someone to go aboard to negotiate. I say we decide now, when we still have time. Hey Narsh, how do you pirates normally do this?”
Narsh rose from his slump and took a few steps forward, before one of his guards yanked him back. “Brutish apes! Won’t even let a man stand with dignity,” he cursed, glaring at the other Phal. “Ships are the core of our free society, and on a ship, the captain is the ultimate authority. As captain of this vessel, it would be a great sign of disrespect if you did not come to negotiate. Rest assured, you will come to no harm—all free citizens believe that a captain’s proper grave is their ship, and to kill one ‘on land’ is dishonourable.”
The skin around Cassandra’s scaly brow took on a bluish tint. “Excellent—I’ll have to rely on the honour of pirates. It seems I don’t have a choice in going, so who wants to keep me company?”
Marissa grabbed hold of Arc’s arm in anticipation of the inevitable. He gave her a smile, then stepped forward, heedless of her hold on him. She let go, knowing she couldn’t really hold him back. “I’ll go,” he announced to no one’s surprise. “I’m a diplomat, after all. I can handle the brunt of the negotiation, if you’ll allow it, Captain.”
Cassandra beamed. “I would be honoured, Mr. Rhapsody. You’re a hero to many in the organization, and working with you is an opportunity I’ve dreamed of.” The Zulkar’s skin began to take on a golden hue. Marissa didn’t know what emotion that expressed, but she didn’t like it being directed at her husband.
She stepped up to Arc’s side again. “I’m going too. You’re going to need a bodyguard.”
Cassandra frowned, colours fading. “Will Corda permit that, Narsh?”
“Oh yes,” Narsh replied. “I usually bring a couple of my biggest crewmen when I visit, for the intimidation factor. Although, I’m not sure how frightened they’ll be of a little human girl.”
Marissa flashed him a grin. “Just tell them how your arm got broken, and they will be.”
“What do you say, Mr. Rhapsody?” Cassandra asked.
“Speaking from experience, Marissa will come whether we like it or not,” Arc answered, resting his hand on Marissa’s shoulder. “That being said, there’s no one I would trust my life to more.”
“Very well—happy to have you, Marissa,” Cassandra conceded, with barely a hint of sarcasm. “Mela, will you join us?”
“I wouldn’t, if I were you!” Narsh exclaimed. His chains rattled loudly as he jumped about a foot forward, good hand shaking vigorously. “We are not fond of Rashani in Freespace—we’ve been fighting with them for centuries. I can’t be sure that any rules of etiquette would hold if you were to bring that witch to Shiprest.”
Cassandra’s face purpled. “I don’t think I can accept that. Without Mela’s senses, we’ll only have this mythical ‘pirate honour’ to trust that this Corda isn’t lying. If Mela can’t come with us, we may not be negotiating after all.”
Mela politely raised a hand. “Captain, if I may. While I appreciate your trust in me, I must disagree. The risks of dealing with these pirates are far outweighed by the risks if we don’t. We must do this if we want to stop the Imperials, and while I regret not being able to join you, I am confident that you can discern lies for yourself, and that those you choose to accompany you will be more than enough to protect you.”
Marissa thumped her own chest. “You’ve got me, and that’s probably all you need.”
“Marissa!” Arc whispered in a scolding tone, failing to hide his smile.
Cassandra ran a claw along her jaw, eyes distant. “Commander, how many troops can you spare and still keep the Valiance secure?”
“Not many,” Fredrichs replied promptly. “I can spare maybe one of the Phal and about five others, but I’ll need the rest if I’m going to defend the ship’s key points from potential attacks.”
“You should bring me along!” Narsh bellowed, jostling his guards. “Not only can I help you, but you can bring these two brutes along as well. Please—Corda will be more willing to bargain if he sees you have me as a hostage. The two of us have a history, you see.”
Cassandra gave him a doubtful look, and Marissa couldn’t blame her. Even with a Rashani present, Marissa wouldn’t trust anything Narsh said. He was clearly an idiot, and a deluded one at that. What he thought was the truth could be far from reality.
Before a decision could be reached, an alarm buzzed on the control console. Cassandra spun her chair back to face it, her claws clicking across the keys. “We aren’t alone. I have two ships on our sensors.” A rough star map appeared on one of the wider screens; a pair of ships, represented by large red dots, were closing in fast on the Valiance’s flanks. Neither was as big as the Valiance, but they were probably better armed.
The main console’s communicator began to beep, and Cassandra flipped on the speakers. A gravelly voice echoed across the bridge. “I don’t know anyone in Freespace dumb enough to fly around in a cargo ship, so you must be outsiders. Identify yourself.”
Cassandra calmly straightened up, her head lifting high on her long neck. “This is Cassandra Locksworth, captain of the Valiance, and no, we are not citizens of Freespace. We hail from the Kinship, and seek a place called Shiprest. I assume that your presence here means it’s nearby.”
The transmission from outside crackled for a moment, then the gravelly voice returned. “The Kinship? What the hell do you want?”
“I wish to speak with Ago Corda, who I understand is your…”
“Democratically Elected Leader,” Narsh whispered to her.
“Democratically Elected Leader,” Cassandra repeated into the microphone. “I will give my reasons directly to Corda himself.”
“Corda isn’t some Kinship politician you can call on any old time,” replied the gravelly voice, brimming with hostility. One of the red dots drew closer on the map, then shot ahead of the Valiance. A moment later, a vessel of jagged edges appeared in front of the starshield, swooping in and out of sight. It moved at a convenient angle, just the right position to display the many cannons bristling beneath its crooked nose. It might not be able to bring the Valiance down, but it could put a significant dent in the hull if it got the chance.
Cassandra tapped the edge of the control console impatiently, then motioned the guards to bring Narsh forward. “We have something Corda may be interested in. I’m sending you a video feed.” She stood and allowed Narsh to stand before the camera built just above the central monitor.
Despite his chains, the pirate captain stood straight and puffed out his chest proudly. “This is Captain Narsh of the Night Terror. If you’ve any sense, you’ll tell Corda that I’m here, and that the crew of the Valiance is willing to negotiate the release of me and my crewmates, but it must be in person.”
“I heard you were dead,” muttered the gravelly voice. “Hold on a few minutes.”
Those few minutes felt like hours, as the pirate ship continued to swing left and right like a spiky pendulum. The other ship, only visible on the monitor, remained beside the Valiance, but seemed to be slowly drifting backwards. It would be behind them soon, but hopefully Cassandra would have the sense to act before that happened. Pirates could not be trusted, especially in sight of their den.
The gravelly voice returned to break the tension at last. “You’re in luck. Corda has agreed to meet you. Follow me.” The ship in front ceased its threatening motions and centred itself before picking up speed. The other ship had finally reached the back of the Valiance, but simply trailed behind. Many on the bridge audibly sighed in relief, but Marissa remained alert. She wasn’t going to let her guard down; she’d seen the awful things pirates were capable of, and she wouldn’t let them take her by surprise. They’d done it before, and as a consequence she’d lost both her home and her mother.
* * *
The silver dome of Shiprest seemed to have sprouted from the surface of a large asteroid, its surface decorated with large windows that offered a peek at the multitude of lights inside. The structure resembled an old model of space habitat, both in size and design, but its base was attached firmly to the rock by metal tunnels that burrowed into the asteroid like tree roots. The pirates had probably expanded beneath the surface, which might make Shiprest as big as any of the major cities on Aegis. How many pirates could be living in there, and how could they keep any kind of order? The spiky escort ship led them down to the dome’s curved surface. A large steel panel slipped aside to allow them passage inside, and Marissa took an involuntary breath as the Valiance entered.
Lights scattered all around, the illumination of hundreds of small structures blazing up from the base of the dome. A wide platform was suspended above the settlement by steel struts, where just as many ships rested in a rough orderly pattern. The Valiance was led to a wide spot clear of the other ships, and set down in solitude. The gravelly voiced pirate spoke a few curt words, then he and his companion ship flew off to resume their guard duties. Out the front window, Marissa could see ten armed men in formation, approaching the Valiance.
Cassandra rose from the captain’s chair, offering her hand to Fredrichs. “The ship’s in your hands now. I want you to take off at the first sign of trouble.”
“It won’t come to that,” Fredrichs replied, but she shook on it all the same.
Marissa held Arc’s arm in one hand and her spear in the other, and she’d used the time between meeting the guards and arriving here to put on her armour. She didn’t care what the pirates thought of her pseudo-sports equipment, only trusting that it would protect her. All Arc was wearing was the button-up shirt he’d intended for last night, as it was the closest he had to a suit, so Marissa would have to stick close to protect him.
Mela bowed to them as they followed Cassandra out. “Rasha be with all of you.”
The visiting party assembled at the airlock: Marissa, Arc, Cassandra, a chained Narsh with his two Phal guards, and a pair of human mercs carrying rifles. They exited the ship, Cassandra taking the lead, and were met by pirates the moment they set foot on the platform.
Against expectations, the pirates wore uniforms, dark blue clothes cut differently based on species, and light combat armour over their torsos. Each wore a yellow band around their upper arms, bearing the sigil of some kind of four-winged bird. They all held rifles in a peculiarly un-hostile way. A human emerged from their ranks, his head shaved except for a small brown tail at the back, with the extra space of his skull filled in with green and blue tattoos arranged in strange patterns. His dark brown eyes somehow stood out among the sea of colour, and he looked over Marissa and the others with an air of bemusement.
He held a hand over his heart in a sort of salute. “Captain Locksworth. I am Cornan, chief of Shiprest’s Peace and Order Department. Normally, I would welcome you to our wondrous free city and invite you to see the sights, but the circumstances of your visit lead me to believe it would be best to take you to Ago Corda immediately.”
“Awfully polite for a pirate,” Marissa whispered into Arc’s ear.
Cornan’s head snapped around and fixed her with a disapproving stare. “I am no pirate. Many of our citizens are, yes, but my comrades and I are permanent residents of Shiprest. Our job is to ensure that everyone behaves in our city—that includes you. Now please, come along.”
The not-pirates formed a semi-circle around Marissa and the others, leaving enough space to keep from feeling too threatening. They began a steady march around the edge of the wide landing platform, staying clear of the parade of ships which landed and took wing on the other end. Marissa glanced over the side, ignoring the several hundred-foot drop to the city below. It was still too far to make out distinct features of any individual building, but the aerial view afforded her a glimpse of the overall shape of things. Many of the smaller buildings were crammed close together, with small alleyways dividing them into uneven blocks. There were only a handful of wide roads, looking like lines in the dirt from up high, with insect-sized vehicles skittering along their length and disappearing into tunnels that must lead into the asteroid itself. The edge of the city was dotted with greenery, farms elevated above the roads on pillars to catch sun rays coming through the windows in the dome. Despite all that, Marissa doubted the city was completely self-sufficient; why else the need for piracy?
Cylinders sprang up from circular openings in the platform, and Cornan’s squad directed them to one. Its side split open to reveal a chamber within; an elevator. The ride down took around ten minutes, but it was far from boring. The elevator shaft was transparent, providing an excellent view as they dropped towards the city. It became easier to pick out the finer details the further down they went, and Marissa spotted shanty-town-style hovels slumping against more stately buildings. She tilted her head upwards and gawked at the bottom of the platform above, where a constellation of lights hung to illuminate the city below.
Shiprest truly came to life when they stepped off the elevator. Tiny, clearly did-it-themselves homes squeezed into the cracks between the taller concrete rectangles, the occupants leaning idly out of windows, some with drinks in their hands. On the opposite side of the street, two Darem men walked hand-in-hand, one nuzzling the other’s ear. On the street corner, a Phal belted out a song in a beautiful baritone as passersby tossed coins at his feet. A Zulkar, his face a patchwork of scars and burn marks, walked past them with a giggling hatchling clinging to the back of his neck. Marissa took this all in as they left the elevator behind, wondering how a collection of thieves could create something like this.
They did not have to walk far; Shiprest’s parliament building was only a few blocks from the spot they’d stepped off, just out of the shadow of the landing platform. It resembled the building where Marissa had conducted her unsuccessful meeting with Prime Minister Torwin, but smaller and not quite as clean. A series of spikes rose from the roof, narrow black triangles whose points looked quite sharp. Marissa couldn’t guess what their purpose might be. Cornan took them through the gates and up the stone steps, ordering some of his men to remain at the door as they entered.
There was no foyer or lobby; once through the doors, they stood in the seat of Shiprest’s government, a wide meeting hall occupied by a long table, with a ring of elevated seats surrounding it. The table was lined with chairs, some layered with so much dust that they looked as if they hadn’t been sat in for years. Marissa spotted doors near the back, leading off from the main chamber, each guarded by a fearsome figure carrying a rifle and at least two blades apiece.
Ago Corda sat in a high-backed chair at the far end of the table, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. Marissa’s expectations for a pirate-king had been the same-but-more: a heavy brute with murder in his eyes; a Phal, Zulkar, or even a particularly beefy human. She had not expected the slim figure of an Aquila, garbed in a dark purple suit that reminded her of Arc’s wardrobe. His face was hidden, of course, but the mask he wore had a more rounded snout in place of the distinctive beak. His most notable feature was the halo of feathers that fanned out from the edges of the mask and seemed to run the whole colour spectrum. It made up for his lack of size somehow, giving him his own distinct presence that seemed to fill out the high seat.
“Well hello, Captain Locksworth,” he said, lifting his chin and clapping his black-gloved hands together. “I see you’ve brought an entourage. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so bold as to show up on my doorstep and demand to speak to me. Certainly not anyone from the Kinship.”
Cassandra stepped towards the foot of the table. “Our prisoner said that was the best way to get your attention.”
Corda craned his neck. “Ah, I see you’ve brought the one man in the galaxy I care the least about. An interesting tactic. Hello, Narsh—I’d heard you were dead.”
Narsh’s nostrils flared and his chest swelled in outrage. “And who told you that? My good-for-nothing crew, no doubt! Where are the cowards? I’ve some business with whichever one of them decided to take my ship.”
“The Night Terror has gone wandering again, as I hear it.” Corda stifled a yawn. “How many of you did these Kinship fellows take?”
“Me and nine others,” Narsh replied. “As jailers go, I must say they’ve been better than most.”
“Oh, really? Maybe I should leave you with them, then.” Corda folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “You may all sit. I have drinks, if you like.”
Cassandra continued her streak of boldness and seated herself, prompting the rest of them to reluctantly take places at the close end of the table. A Darem, not a guard but a well-dressed servant-type, set drinks before each of them. The mercs regarded the glasses with cold disdain, while Narsh struggled against his restraints to lean forward and lap up the presumably non-alcoholic liquid. Marissa scooted her chair closer to Arc.
“Poisoned?” she whispered.
Arc shook his head. “That would be unwise of him. He hasn’t yet ensured the safety of his citizens.”
“Maybe he doesn’t care?” Marissa said, eyeing the Darem as he finished his rounds and departed. “He’s a pirate. They’re not known for their compassion, even to each other.”
“Marissa, if we’re going to make this work, we need to learn to trust,” Arc insisted, taking on a light scolding tone. “Pirate or not, this man was chosen to lead them, and I believe that suggests some form of responsibility.” He considered his drink, then took a large swig.
“Arc!” she hissed.
He set the cup down calmly. “Not bad. If I start convulsing, you’ll know not to drink.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t want happening!” She spent the next minute observing him with rapt attention, watching for any sign of a shake or hint of weakness. But Arc was the model of composure, his hands resting neatly on the table as his dark eyes wandered the room. Marissa gradually relaxed, then steeled her nerves to try a sip. Bitter, but like Arc had said, not bad.
Corda broke the silence, his voice carrying across the room despite the mask. “I can’t imagine what a vessel from the Kinship would be doing in Freespace, even less so one crewed by Inferno mercenaries. Maybe you can indulge my curiosity by explaining?”
Cassandra cleared her throat. “I think we should decide on a ransom for your citizens. Don’t you agree?”
Corda shrugged. “Very well. I regret to tell you that I have as much love for Narsh as I do for a nest of rat-roaches. However, I do pity the poor souls who have the misfortune of working under him. Name your price—I might grant it, if it’s low enough. Given the haggard looks on all your faces, I assume you’re not after money. I can give you fuel and guarantee you safe passage to Alliance space, if that’s what you’re after.”
Arc stood and cleared his throat. “If I may—your offer is very kind, but we are not planning on leaving Freespace just yet. To be honest, this talk of ransom was merely an excuse to speak with you. We would like to ask for your assistance.”
“Assistance,” Corda repeated, tapping a finger on the table’s edge. “Interesting choice of word. You want ships, don’t you? With full crews and weapons, yes?”
Arc swallowed, nodding. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Because I’ve just recognized your face, Arc Rhapsody,” Corda answered. “Yes, I know who you are—as pirates we, well, pirate broadcasts from across the galaxy. According to the news, you’re supposed to be dead, kidnapped, or a wanted man. Since you are still speaking and are not in chains, I presume it must be the last.”
“N-no, that’s not true,” Arc stammered. “I’ll explain.”
Arc proceeded to outline Shodus’ attack on the Consortium and the capture of himself and the other diplomats. Then he gave a limited summary of the Valiance’s mission to save him, tactfully omitting mentions of mysterious maps and Rashani interventions. Finally, he explained their current mission, to track down Shodus and save Dae Trem, hopefully averting a war.
Arc had barely finished before Corda spoke. “What sort of vessel would my ships be attacking?”
Arc responded with such a cool attitude that only Marissa noticed the sweat beading on his neck. “A Magnus-class battleship, carrying a full hold of fighters, and modified with experimental technology.”
Corda lowered his head, staring at his own hands, which lay flat against the table. “What you’re asking—why would you think I would ever agree to such a request? Ships are valuable, especially here in Freespace, and I’ll not waste them on your grudges.”
“But the war—”
“What do I care?” Corda interrupted. “Would your governments thank us for our help? No, they’d arrest us all for being pirates—for living our lives our way! I say let the great big bastards fight, and then we can pilfer what we like from their corpses.”
Marissa felt a familiar anger building inside. It was the same she’d felt towards herself a few days ago, when she’d wanted to head home and leave this all behind. Part of her still wanted to, but most of that anger had found a new target in Shodus. She tried to hold it in, telling herself that Arc could solve this, but when she looked up at him, she saw his face going pale. Maybe it was going to take something other than a diplomat’s skill to make this deal.
She stood, fixing Corda with a glare. “You’re just a coward. Narsh told me these particular Imperials have been giving you trouble for years, but we give you a chance to shoot them down and you don’t take it? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Corda froze, then slowly turned his head to look at her. “You are Marissa Rhapsody, are you not? I saw your last fight—good stuff. But that doesn’t give you the right to call me a coward. Not in my own hall.”
“If you want an apology, you’ll be waiting a long time,” Marissa replied. “Let me tell you something—I didn’t care about anything Arc said either. Oh, I’d feel bad about a war, but what are the chances it would directly affect me? I know that’s awful and selfish, but I’d seen enough death. That was until I saw what they’d done to my husband.”
“Marissa, please,” Arc whispered, desperately.
Marissa ignored him, gambling that the truth might be the key. “They branded him, again. A free man for ten years, and Shodus branded him, as if that mark was enough to claim ownership of him. I still struggle to imagine the kind of arrogance it takes to believe that, and it makes me furious. If he could, I bet Shodus and the other Imperials would happily brand each and every person in the Kinship and the Alliance, even Freespace too, because of some fucked-up logic that says they’re better than everyone else. I hate that—I hate them. Most of all, I hate Shodus for hurting Arc and killing our friends, and now I can’t even dream of going home until I’ve smashed his face to a pulp. His kind are the ones who ruined my life, who made us slaves in the first place, and I can’t tolerate a galaxy where a bastard like that gets what he wants.”
She felt lighter, as if that anger had been physically weighing her down. Cassandra and the mercs gawked at her. Arc intertwined his hand with hers and gave it a squeeze of silent approval.
Corda sighed. “Before they left here, the crew of the Night Terror said they fled because they were attacked by Rashani. Are they still onboard your ship?”
“Yes.” Arc picked up the conversation with renewed enthusiasm. “But their contract concerns Dae Trem. They have no interest in you or your citizens, so long as we are safe.”
Corda pulled at the index finger of his left glove. “Yes, they do feel bound by their contracts, don’t they? Most of my people are frightened of the Rashani, but I’ve been fortunate to have better experiences than most.” He worked his way across his hand, loosening each finger as he spoke. “This hall is a gathering place, where all captains come to make decisions on behalf of our people. Normally, an undertaking like this would require me to call on them, to put this to a vote. It would take days for every captain to get here, but it is the law on which Freespace was founded.”
He suddenly pulled back his head and laughed, his breathing apparatus sputtering. “Oh, what the hell!” He slipped the glove off, revealing the pink-purple hand beneath. He set it on the table before him, palm down. The faded image of a nine-pointed star rested just below his knuckles, the once-burned flesh a shade darker than the rest.
“I’m in charge now.”