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bktheirregularA great birthday present would be finding one or two people who'd be willing to beta this thing that's started to eat my brain.
You know how many fandoms have spawned their own version of Casablanca? This is a bit like that, only not quite. It's sort of like a fanfic sequel, only not exactly.
It gets wacky, but I think I may know how to make it all hang together ... with a little help. This prologue has no betas, so I'm throwing it out to see if anyone's interested. Needs a title, among other things. "A Star to Steer Her By" sounds awfully trite.
* * * * * * *
How did pirates find their way into the spacelanes? Some say it was the fault of the colonial administrations, who had grown overly reliant on Earth's fleet to guard shipping and keep the lanes between stars clear of debris; the "sweepers" of the Interstellar Fleet were spoken of with derision as they plied the lanes, but their absence was cursed when Earth's troubles took them away.
Some say it was the fault of the politicians on Earth itself, who had turned inward to try to solve the greatest crisis the homeworld had ever known; others blamed the panel of two hundred scientists who had said, as with one voice, that either drastic actions had to be taken now or Earth was doomed, and there was no time to argue before the environmental collapse reached the point of no return.
In any event, no amount of argument could lead Earth to draw precious resources away from the Cleansing, the emergency planet-wide program that would hopefully stabilize the biosphere and overcome centuries of neglect. Logically, all the pirates had to do was stay away from Earth, and the Space Guard flotillas of the colonies would never be able to track them down.
Logical, educated folk don't generally take up piracy, though.
They hit Earth.
* * * * * * *
Legends never die, but technology can sometimes put a serious crimp in things like ancient curses.
Take, for example, an island in the Caribbean Sea that, according to legend, cannot be found except by those who already know where it is. Orbital multispectral mapping systems don't care about the legend; if they see a rock in the water, they'll spit up its location with unthinking, pitiless precision.
Native techniques may keep that rock invisible to prying eyes at sea level, and rocky shoals may have dashed the hulls of ships in centuries gone by, but an orbital dropship doesn't have to worry about the shoals.
Sometimes, though, the ancients can get the better of modern science. A metallurgical scanner might be able to tell you that the eight hundred eighty-two coins in the stone chest boosted from the mysterious island are solid gold.
It won't have any idea, though, that those coins are still cursed by the heathen gods.
* * * * * * *
"...we pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot; drink up, me hearties, yo ho. We kidnap and ravage and--"
"Not on our watch they don't," a voice rasped across the observation deck.
Marie Barnard tore her eyes away from the deep blue stars ahead and whirled to face the voice. "Hello?"
"You've got some odd ideas about pirates there," the man behind her said quietly.
"Oh -- Major! You startled me."
"Sorry," the Major said with a smile. "I heard talk about pirates and it got me nervous."
"Nervous?" Marie asked, with a smile of her own. "I'd love to see pirates. It'd be exciting to meet them, I'd think."
The Major sighed. "That's because you're eleven years old and you've never met a pirate, kiddo. Trust me, you don't want to meet them, especially not out here."
"I've read about pirates. Even back in the old times, did you know they actually had their own strict codes of conduct?"
The Major snorted. "When was this?"
"In the old days of wind sail. They even had their own nation. Their very own pirate republic."
"Yeah. Well, that was then, and even if it was true then - somehow I doubt that - it's far from true now. You want to know what pirates do out here when they capture a ship?"
Marie was struck by a horrified sense that she didn't want to know, but she couldn't back down. "Go on."
"Once they've finished raiding the ship for anything valuable - not just stuff they can sell, but fuel, food, water, air - they'll maroon everyone aboard. Shoot an iron slug into the reactor core, so no power to call for help, no food, no water, maybe they'll leave the air scrubbers. The pirates will set the ship adrift, and then they'll start taking bets on whether the poor fellas will end up turning on one another for food before the air turns to poison ... and set up a pool for how many bodies will be left for the sweepers when they finally find the hulk."
"You're joking," Marie whispered.
"I wish," the Major said just as quietly. "I've seen the hulks. I've seen the bones. And I've heard the unholy rats brag about the betting pools."
"Marie?"
They both turned to see the imposing bulk of Marie's father in the hatchway. "There you are, Marie. I've been looking for you."
"The Major's been telling me about pirates, Papa," Marie said sweetly.
"Yes, quite." Papa walked over to them and hissed in the Major's ear: "I don't appreciate you telling scare stories to my daughter. She's going to be unsettled enough coming to live with me on the colony."
"I'm sorry, Delegate Barnard--"
"Burgess Barnard."
"Burgess Barnard, sir. My apologies, sir. But she did ask, and she was pretty persistent. Would you rather I lied to her, sir?"
"You don't have any experience raisng a child, do you?" Burgess Barnard said. It wasn't a question.
The Major winced visibly at that, closed his eyes for a moment, and opened his mouth to answer--
--when a tooth-rattling klaxon sounded in the compartment. The stars ahead spread out rapidly, losing their deep blue color, and an opaque shield quickly started to slide over the large viewport.
"General quarters, general quarters, all decks, all stations. Passengers, report to your quarters or the nearest muster station. This is not a drill."
The Major quickly beckoned to Marie and her father. "Come on. You need to get back to your staterooms."
"What's happening?" Papa demanded, grabbing the Major's sleeve. "What's going on?"
"We've dropped out of stardrive and gone to general quarters. I need to get to the bridge; you need to get back to your rooms." The Major whirled to get to a lift. Papa grabbed Marie's hand and hurried after the Major, getting into the same lift just before its doors snapped shut.
* * * * * * *
The lift discharged all three into the bridge, and the Major went right to the deck officer. "Report."
"Sir, we just picked up a distress call by tachyon Morse. 'SOS SKS IMV3105', repeating."
"Ship in distress, under attack," the Major mused. "Who's 'IMV3105', Lieutenant?"
"Book says she's the Ticonderoga IV, sir, combi-carrier flagged out of Lalande. Haven't got anything on current flight plans; we're still trying to spike into the Hypernet."
"Good. But when we get the Hypernet link up, first priority is to find that ship or its disaster beacon. Trivia can wait."
"Aye, Major."
"Where's the Captain?" the Major asked next.
"On her way."
"Okay. Which direction was the tachyon call? Did we get it direct, or did one of the trade lane buoys relay it?"
"Uh ... direct, sir. Looks like about azimuth three-four-five, declination minus-one-five off Sol-Barnard zero."
"Can't be too far, then. We'd better prepare dropships--"
"What's going on?" Burgess Barnard barked.
"Do you mind, sir? We've got a situation here."
The lift thumped open, and a stocky woman with dark skin strode in. "Report."
"Aye, Captain. We've got a tachyon Morse distress call from a combi-carrier reporting an attack, distance unknown but probably closer than the next lane buoy. Still establishing our Hypernet link, so we don't have precise info yet. With your permission, I'd like to have the security teams stand to, and dropships prepped in case we have to board the ship to render assistance."
"Or fight off pirates, McKeegan?"
Major McKeegan winced. "If necessary, sir."
The Captain nodded. "Go ahead, Major."
"Captain! Hypercom is up, and we have position data on the Ticonderoga IV."
"Good work. On tactical."
The main plot came up, and a blinking blue dot flashed into existence almost on top of the center of the display. The captain whistled. "We might just get there in time to make a difference. Fifteen minutes?"
McKeegan frowned and shook his head. "Twenty, if we push everything to the red line. Maybe as long as twenty-five."
The captain nodded. "You'd better get down to Drop Bay One and make sure the troopers are ready."
"Aye, sir," McKeegan said, and with a salute, he was off.
"Will someone tell me what is happening? Captain Mauro? I want to know what's going on!"
Captain Mauro turned her chair to face Burgess Barnard. "Sir, will you please return to your quarters?"
"I'm a government representative, Captain! I don't answer to you."
The captain turned away. "Comms, signal the Ticonderoga. 'This is Earth cruiser Exeter, en route your position to render all assistance.' Send that, then disengage the Hypercom. Astro, do we have a course for the carrier?"
"Laid in and ready, sir."
"Helm, as soon as the Hypernet spike is disengaged, take the stardrive to flank speed, intercept course."
"Captain!" Burgess Barnard barked.
"If you will excuse me, Mister-"
"Barnard. Burgess Saul Barnard."
"Burgess Barnard, we are trying to render assistance to a vessel in distress, and you, sir, are in the way." She turned to her crew. "Hypercom status?"
"Clear in two, one, clear!"
"Helm, intercept course, stardrive ahead, all ahead flank!"
* * * * * * *
"Papa?"
"I still don't know, Marie." Papa frowned. "They haven't told us anything. But from the damage aboard that ship--"
The com crackled. "Tac Team Three, Med Team One, this is Tac Lead. Bring a capsule gurney and get over here now! We've got a live one!"
Ten people shepherded a capsule into the dropship while an eleventh tapped his wrist. "How's it look, sir?"
"Looks like a kid, must have just had time to jump into a crash compartment when the galley got vented." A ragged breath carried over the speaker. "Hurry, Lieutenant!"
The crewers ran aboard the dropship, an alarm sounded, and deck hands hustled Papa and Marie forward. A flashing red line suddenly flared solid, and the air crackled as a force field snapped into place. The dropship moved aft, hovered a moment over a swiftly opening hatch, and then dropped like a stone out of the Exeter's grav field and into open space.
Marie found herself holding her breath until she was gasping for air, waiting for word. Five minutes, ten, and then two dropships rose through the hatch and forward into the bay proper. The drop hatch closed, air rushed into the bay, and the force field dropped.
Squads rushed out of both dropships, two people carrying a long capsule with handles. A medical team rushed into the bay and cracked open the capsule--
--to reveal a young boy, not even into his teens.
Marie gasped. She broke away from Papa to get a closer look.
One of the troopers tried to push her away, but a medic shook her head. "Let her. It'll probably help if he can see someone his own age."
Marie got closer, looked at him. He stirred, moaned, and opened his eyes.
"Ssh," Marie whispered. "It'll be okay. What's your name?"
"Eddie," he rasped.
"I'm right here, Eddie," Marie said. "I'm going to be right here, okay? You're safe now."
She heard the Captain as she came down into the drop bay, asking: "What happened?"
"What happened?" Major McKeegan growled. "Pirates is what happened. How many souls did they say were aboard?"
"One thousand, one hundred thirty-nine," Captain Mauro answered.
"That kid's the only one they left alive, God knows why. Pirates. Rat-freaking bastard pirates vented every -- god -- damned compartment aboard the carrier. When we find them--"
"We won't," the Captain said. "They're gone. No drive trail, nothing to pick up on."
"Lucky for them. Captain. Sir. So help me God, the next pirate I see..."
Marie tried to close her ears, not wanting to hear about it. A thousand dead? Why would pirates be so cruel? She looked at the boy, the only survivor of the attack - and then she saw a medallion around his neck. She picked it up; it was a large gold coin, with a skull on one face, attached to a chain.
She heard the Major's voice, with a fury she'd never heard before: "So help me God, the next pirate I see..."
With a jerk, she pulled the medallion away from his neck just before the medics turned back to look at him. She shoved the medallion in a pocket, hurrying to follow as the medics put him on a stretcher and began to wheel him to the cruiser's medical ward.
Clenched in her hand, the gold medallion felt as cold as the space beyond the drop bay.
end prologue
You know how many fandoms have spawned their own version of Casablanca? This is a bit like that, only not quite. It's sort of like a fanfic sequel, only not exactly.
It gets wacky, but I think I may know how to make it all hang together ... with a little help. This prologue has no betas, so I'm throwing it out to see if anyone's interested. Needs a title, among other things. "A Star to Steer Her By" sounds awfully trite.
* * * * * * *
How did pirates find their way into the spacelanes? Some say it was the fault of the colonial administrations, who had grown overly reliant on Earth's fleet to guard shipping and keep the lanes between stars clear of debris; the "sweepers" of the Interstellar Fleet were spoken of with derision as they plied the lanes, but their absence was cursed when Earth's troubles took them away.
Some say it was the fault of the politicians on Earth itself, who had turned inward to try to solve the greatest crisis the homeworld had ever known; others blamed the panel of two hundred scientists who had said, as with one voice, that either drastic actions had to be taken now or Earth was doomed, and there was no time to argue before the environmental collapse reached the point of no return.
In any event, no amount of argument could lead Earth to draw precious resources away from the Cleansing, the emergency planet-wide program that would hopefully stabilize the biosphere and overcome centuries of neglect. Logically, all the pirates had to do was stay away from Earth, and the Space Guard flotillas of the colonies would never be able to track them down.
Logical, educated folk don't generally take up piracy, though.
They hit Earth.
* * * * * * *
Legends never die, but technology can sometimes put a serious crimp in things like ancient curses.
Take, for example, an island in the Caribbean Sea that, according to legend, cannot be found except by those who already know where it is. Orbital multispectral mapping systems don't care about the legend; if they see a rock in the water, they'll spit up its location with unthinking, pitiless precision.
Native techniques may keep that rock invisible to prying eyes at sea level, and rocky shoals may have dashed the hulls of ships in centuries gone by, but an orbital dropship doesn't have to worry about the shoals.
Sometimes, though, the ancients can get the better of modern science. A metallurgical scanner might be able to tell you that the eight hundred eighty-two coins in the stone chest boosted from the mysterious island are solid gold.
It won't have any idea, though, that those coins are still cursed by the heathen gods.
* * * * * * *
"...we pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot; drink up, me hearties, yo ho. We kidnap and ravage and--"
"Not on our watch they don't," a voice rasped across the observation deck.
Marie Barnard tore her eyes away from the deep blue stars ahead and whirled to face the voice. "Hello?"
"You've got some odd ideas about pirates there," the man behind her said quietly.
"Oh -- Major! You startled me."
"Sorry," the Major said with a smile. "I heard talk about pirates and it got me nervous."
"Nervous?" Marie asked, with a smile of her own. "I'd love to see pirates. It'd be exciting to meet them, I'd think."
The Major sighed. "That's because you're eleven years old and you've never met a pirate, kiddo. Trust me, you don't want to meet them, especially not out here."
"I've read about pirates. Even back in the old times, did you know they actually had their own strict codes of conduct?"
The Major snorted. "When was this?"
"In the old days of wind sail. They even had their own nation. Their very own pirate republic."
"Yeah. Well, that was then, and even if it was true then - somehow I doubt that - it's far from true now. You want to know what pirates do out here when they capture a ship?"
Marie was struck by a horrified sense that she didn't want to know, but she couldn't back down. "Go on."
"Once they've finished raiding the ship for anything valuable - not just stuff they can sell, but fuel, food, water, air - they'll maroon everyone aboard. Shoot an iron slug into the reactor core, so no power to call for help, no food, no water, maybe they'll leave the air scrubbers. The pirates will set the ship adrift, and then they'll start taking bets on whether the poor fellas will end up turning on one another for food before the air turns to poison ... and set up a pool for how many bodies will be left for the sweepers when they finally find the hulk."
"You're joking," Marie whispered.
"I wish," the Major said just as quietly. "I've seen the hulks. I've seen the bones. And I've heard the unholy rats brag about the betting pools."
"Marie?"
They both turned to see the imposing bulk of Marie's father in the hatchway. "There you are, Marie. I've been looking for you."
"The Major's been telling me about pirates, Papa," Marie said sweetly.
"Yes, quite." Papa walked over to them and hissed in the Major's ear: "I don't appreciate you telling scare stories to my daughter. She's going to be unsettled enough coming to live with me on the colony."
"I'm sorry, Delegate Barnard--"
"Burgess Barnard."
"Burgess Barnard, sir. My apologies, sir. But she did ask, and she was pretty persistent. Would you rather I lied to her, sir?"
"You don't have any experience raisng a child, do you?" Burgess Barnard said. It wasn't a question.
The Major winced visibly at that, closed his eyes for a moment, and opened his mouth to answer--
--when a tooth-rattling klaxon sounded in the compartment. The stars ahead spread out rapidly, losing their deep blue color, and an opaque shield quickly started to slide over the large viewport.
"General quarters, general quarters, all decks, all stations. Passengers, report to your quarters or the nearest muster station. This is not a drill."
The Major quickly beckoned to Marie and her father. "Come on. You need to get back to your staterooms."
"What's happening?" Papa demanded, grabbing the Major's sleeve. "What's going on?"
"We've dropped out of stardrive and gone to general quarters. I need to get to the bridge; you need to get back to your rooms." The Major whirled to get to a lift. Papa grabbed Marie's hand and hurried after the Major, getting into the same lift just before its doors snapped shut.
* * * * * * *
The lift discharged all three into the bridge, and the Major went right to the deck officer. "Report."
"Sir, we just picked up a distress call by tachyon Morse. 'SOS SKS IMV3105', repeating."
"Ship in distress, under attack," the Major mused. "Who's 'IMV3105', Lieutenant?"
"Book says she's the Ticonderoga IV, sir, combi-carrier flagged out of Lalande. Haven't got anything on current flight plans; we're still trying to spike into the Hypernet."
"Good. But when we get the Hypernet link up, first priority is to find that ship or its disaster beacon. Trivia can wait."
"Aye, Major."
"Where's the Captain?" the Major asked next.
"On her way."
"Okay. Which direction was the tachyon call? Did we get it direct, or did one of the trade lane buoys relay it?"
"Uh ... direct, sir. Looks like about azimuth three-four-five, declination minus-one-five off Sol-Barnard zero."
"Can't be too far, then. We'd better prepare dropships--"
"What's going on?" Burgess Barnard barked.
"Do you mind, sir? We've got a situation here."
The lift thumped open, and a stocky woman with dark skin strode in. "Report."
"Aye, Captain. We've got a tachyon Morse distress call from a combi-carrier reporting an attack, distance unknown but probably closer than the next lane buoy. Still establishing our Hypernet link, so we don't have precise info yet. With your permission, I'd like to have the security teams stand to, and dropships prepped in case we have to board the ship to render assistance."
"Or fight off pirates, McKeegan?"
Major McKeegan winced. "If necessary, sir."
The Captain nodded. "Go ahead, Major."
"Captain! Hypercom is up, and we have position data on the Ticonderoga IV."
"Good work. On tactical."
The main plot came up, and a blinking blue dot flashed into existence almost on top of the center of the display. The captain whistled. "We might just get there in time to make a difference. Fifteen minutes?"
McKeegan frowned and shook his head. "Twenty, if we push everything to the red line. Maybe as long as twenty-five."
The captain nodded. "You'd better get down to Drop Bay One and make sure the troopers are ready."
"Aye, sir," McKeegan said, and with a salute, he was off.
"Will someone tell me what is happening? Captain Mauro? I want to know what's going on!"
Captain Mauro turned her chair to face Burgess Barnard. "Sir, will you please return to your quarters?"
"I'm a government representative, Captain! I don't answer to you."
The captain turned away. "Comms, signal the Ticonderoga. 'This is Earth cruiser Exeter, en route your position to render all assistance.' Send that, then disengage the Hypercom. Astro, do we have a course for the carrier?"
"Laid in and ready, sir."
"Helm, as soon as the Hypernet spike is disengaged, take the stardrive to flank speed, intercept course."
"Captain!" Burgess Barnard barked.
"If you will excuse me, Mister-"
"Barnard. Burgess Saul Barnard."
"Burgess Barnard, we are trying to render assistance to a vessel in distress, and you, sir, are in the way." She turned to her crew. "Hypercom status?"
"Clear in two, one, clear!"
"Helm, intercept course, stardrive ahead, all ahead flank!"
* * * * * * *
"Papa?"
"I still don't know, Marie." Papa frowned. "They haven't told us anything. But from the damage aboard that ship--"
The com crackled. "Tac Team Three, Med Team One, this is Tac Lead. Bring a capsule gurney and get over here now! We've got a live one!"
Ten people shepherded a capsule into the dropship while an eleventh tapped his wrist. "How's it look, sir?"
"Looks like a kid, must have just had time to jump into a crash compartment when the galley got vented." A ragged breath carried over the speaker. "Hurry, Lieutenant!"
The crewers ran aboard the dropship, an alarm sounded, and deck hands hustled Papa and Marie forward. A flashing red line suddenly flared solid, and the air crackled as a force field snapped into place. The dropship moved aft, hovered a moment over a swiftly opening hatch, and then dropped like a stone out of the Exeter's grav field and into open space.
Marie found herself holding her breath until she was gasping for air, waiting for word. Five minutes, ten, and then two dropships rose through the hatch and forward into the bay proper. The drop hatch closed, air rushed into the bay, and the force field dropped.
Squads rushed out of both dropships, two people carrying a long capsule with handles. A medical team rushed into the bay and cracked open the capsule--
--to reveal a young boy, not even into his teens.
Marie gasped. She broke away from Papa to get a closer look.
One of the troopers tried to push her away, but a medic shook her head. "Let her. It'll probably help if he can see someone his own age."
Marie got closer, looked at him. He stirred, moaned, and opened his eyes.
"Ssh," Marie whispered. "It'll be okay. What's your name?"
"Eddie," he rasped.
"I'm right here, Eddie," Marie said. "I'm going to be right here, okay? You're safe now."
She heard the Captain as she came down into the drop bay, asking: "What happened?"
"What happened?" Major McKeegan growled. "Pirates is what happened. How many souls did they say were aboard?"
"One thousand, one hundred thirty-nine," Captain Mauro answered.
"That kid's the only one they left alive, God knows why. Pirates. Rat-freaking bastard pirates vented every -- god -- damned compartment aboard the carrier. When we find them--"
"We won't," the Captain said. "They're gone. No drive trail, nothing to pick up on."
"Lucky for them. Captain. Sir. So help me God, the next pirate I see..."
Marie tried to close her ears, not wanting to hear about it. A thousand dead? Why would pirates be so cruel? She looked at the boy, the only survivor of the attack - and then she saw a medallion around his neck. She picked it up; it was a large gold coin, with a skull on one face, attached to a chain.
She heard the Major's voice, with a fury she'd never heard before: "So help me God, the next pirate I see..."
With a jerk, she pulled the medallion away from his neck just before the medics turned back to look at him. She shoved the medallion in a pocket, hurrying to follow as the medics put him on a stretcher and began to wheel him to the cruiser's medical ward.
Clenched in her hand, the gold medallion felt as cold as the space beyond the drop bay.
end prologue
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Date: 2005-02-15 06:58 pm (UTC)I'm very, very intrigued by this idea. :-D And am back in that place where "maybe betaing will get me to write..."