Prelude

A lone vessel hurtled through the vacuum of space. Suddenly, fire blossomed against the hull, rocking the ship violently. Inside, the pilot and his wife frantically attempted to flee, but the attack had damaged the escape pod. The wife clutched her child close, her tears mingling with his.

With growing despair, the husband watched the instrument panel.

"Not even on radar yet," he whispered. The ship rocked again, then stabilized with a clank.

"We're being boarded," murmured his wife.

"Pirates," he said, and swore as the door opened and the pirates overtook control.

I

Communion

"All systems green?" asked the dominating voice of a woman sitting in the worn-down commander's chair of the small craft.

"Aye aye, Commander!" replied the tenor voice of the cocky young pilot at the controls, flashing a dazzling smile.

"Is that a yes?" she asked, an edge creeping into her voice.

Roy deflated a little. "Yes, ma'am," he said.

"Excellent. Ignite engines, switch communications on, reverse thrusters--" the woman began.

"--lock s-foils in attack position-" Roy said, back in his swing.

"Haha. Switch on repellants."

"Repulsar lifts on. All systems green!"

"Roy."

"Yes ma'am?"

"Shut up."

"Yes ma'am."

The small transport Star Needle gave a groan and reluctantly hoisted itself a few feet above the planet's stony surface. The Commander gave an approving nod to Raul Nemik, who stood beside her seat, dersperately attempting to look calm. A trembling hand tightly gripping the cushioned back begged to differ. Silence settled on the bridge of the Star Needle as the rag-tag ship prepared itself for liftoff. Raul had built most of it out of pieces he and Calla had scourged on their mission on the planet Aldona, the planet which they now had to get off of. Preferrably three hours ago. The citizens on Aldona did not enjoy outsiders, or at least outsiders who broke their junk-theft laws. The Commander had overseen this particular mission, much to Raul's distress.

The Commander, Thyra Sonul, was a stunning, adversity-hardened woman with an air of hauteur and a natural controlling of power. She was not tall, but she sat straight and stood straighter, head held high, and held enough power to impose for five. Her long ruddy hair, framing her pale, scar-covered face, curled into many fine ringlets around her shoulders and back. Her eyes, around which hints of wrinkles betrayed her seniority to many of the space pirates, were cold and hard and blue like pale sapphires. Those eyes were know to grab a death-grip on the true person, strengths, weaknesses, honesty, skill, and general value, and drag it kicking and screaming through the dismayed victim's defenses. Her noble shape was completed by a long nose and high forehead, cut across by a silver circlet embedded into the skin. Each of the pirates, even the different sects, wore these symbols of rank and value, and there were different circlets for each sect. In the center of the circlet was a gem. The Commander's was a rare Morr-stone. Longed-for by many for its strangely liquid and elusive luster and rich black color, this stone was a mark of a leader among the pirate teams. Leaders had to be tough simply protecting the coveted symbol of honor. She wore a skin-tight black outfit with a silver sash and black boots. The long sleeves covered up a prosthetic left forearm.

Raul Nemik, nervously scanning the data on the screens through his short, blond, slicked-forward hair, was no exception. If the ship did not take off, and they were left on this hostile planet, well, he knew about the poison in the ring finger that many did not. His piercing green eyes looked even more nervous than normal. He wore, like most of the other pirates, clothes reflecting the styles and tastes of his home world: a simple blue-green tunic and cape with brown boots.

"Raul, I believe you and Calla, under your command, were the ones who obtained and renovated this ship." The Cammander's tone was not condescending, but approving. A muscle in his leg relaxed. Raul wanted to tell the leg that he was not safe yet, but the rest of the crew would probably think he was crazy. Then again, they might just think that already just for choosing to take off in this atrocious ship. He sighed inwardly, resigning himself to faith in Calla's handiwork. "I also believe that this is for your promotion to the next level of rank. Where is Calla?"

"Double checking some electronics, Commander."

The Commander pressed a finger to her ear. "Calla! Your presence is required in the bridge."

In a few moments a door in the side of the small bridge slid open and a girl of 18 Standard years emerged. She had cleanly-cut black hair highlighted a dark violet in theme with her preferred Underworlder's style, reaching just to her shoulders. Violet body-color colored her lips and as eyeshadow that curved up into points by her temples. She wore a deep blue beater covered by another translucent top of black material, a black short body-skirt of shimcloth that seemed to be many colors at once as she moved, and knee-high boats that appeared to have criss-crossing laces.

She flashed a lopsided smile as she entered, elongating a smudge of oil on her cheek. "You called?"

"Raul was about to send off the ship, if it works. I thought you ought to be here."

Calla strode over to the Commander's left, bits of anxiety beginning to claw her now that she was not working.

Commander nodded to Raul who cleared his throat and with an almost veteran overtone of self-assurance, said the one word that set it in motion. "Liftoff."

Roy whooped and slapped some buttons on the front panel. "Fasten your seatbelts, here we go!"

With a great lurch the old ship shot into the upper atmosphere and in seconds was free of it. Calla, from where she had strapped herself safely against the wall of the bridge next to Raul, let out a breath, and Raul's relief was evident in his eyes. At this point Calla remembered the little box in her pocket for Urrishki, and touched it to make sure it was still secure.

Star Needle continued to fly relatively smoothly through the vacuum of space. Calla untangled herself from the safety harness and touched her finger to a square on the wall nearby. The vidwindow hummed to life and displayed thousands of stars framing a small black area.

"Hey Roy, I think we're slightly off course."

"Gimme a break, this junk heap doesn't have our programs installed in her yet. I'm doing this completely manual." He sat back, fitted a decrepit headset over his erratic blond hair, and scanned the panel of switches before him, his finger hovering from knob to switch to button. "Eenie, meenie, mynie, ah!" He gave a button a triumphant jab, homing the ship's direction on the black dot, which slowly began to grow bigger and bigger. When it loomed a dark, shapeless menace before them, he pressed a few buttons on the control panel and spoke into the mic on the headset.

"Tiger Eye, come in, this is Star Needle, come in. Come in, Tiger Eye. Code three-oh-seven-six requesting docking. Of course I can fly manual, do I look like Raul to you?" He winked at Raul, who shot him a dirty look. Raul had been the brunt of all piloting jokes after hitting a particularly dense piece of space junk on a mission some several standard months ago. It was simply a nasty bit of bad luck and a sensor malfunction, as much Calla's fault as Raul's, but the rest of the crew found it more fun to benefit from his misfortune. Besides Raul of course, the Commander, in her characteristically insightful way, had been the only one to place blame on Calla and as a result sent her on this mission with Raul. Not only did this mission give her a chance to prove her ability in mechanics, but it also forced Calla and Raul to repair the hole in their relationship. In the societies of all renegade, roving "vaccuum-cultures" it was essential for each group to trust each other and form a sort of bond that many planet-side cultures never achieved.

In response to Roy's request strips of light appeared in the blackness. Deftly, he maneuvered the small ship into the docking bay directly to the third dock down. Entering a dock was very much like entering a cave: it was pitch black and very narrow. For all the boasting of Roy it really was a tricky maneuver, but Roy had recently achieved red rank for his talented piloting and handled the Star Needle as well as any.

They settled down smoothly on the docking bay next to a motley ship so customized it looked like a cross-breed between an angry quilt and a defiant pincushion. Raul solemnly opened the hatch and each team member saluted the Commander as she walked down the ramp. Calla sighed in relief, Raul ran a hand across his forehead and shot her a brief glance that held reacceptance before darting away nervously. It had been a long ride; he'd want to go off for a while. Plenty of time for congratulations later.

Rubbing his arm agitatedly, Raul approached the Commander and asked for a few moments.

"Yes, but don't be long," she responded, pulling a flat device from her uniform pocket. "All members on the bridge in 10 minutes," she said into the communicator, and disappeared into the hallway.

Roy, having begun the automatic post-flight shutdown, bounded down the hatch and affectionately embraced the piecemeal ship. "Hey, baby, I missed you," he crooned.

"What are you going to name her?" Calla asked. "If you ever get her running, that is."

"I was thinking maybe... the Millennium Pufferfish," replied Roy jokingly.

Calla eyed it scathingly. "It would certainly fit,"she said.

"What about your little ship?" he asked. "That was your part of the mission, right? So you get to keep the ship?"

"Nah, it's actually Raul's because it's his mission," she said.

"Oh, right, your payback for botching up his last one," laughed Roy.

"Shut up. So technically it's his, and I don't know what will happen to it. It'll probably be jettisoned," she said ruefully. "More junk for the Gypsies."

"Poor Calla," said Roy, "they're going to vac her baby. Maybe I can talk the Commander into letting me keep her for parts for my ship."

"Thanks, Roy."

"Don't mention it."

"Speaking of the Commander, we'd better get our tails over to the bridge right now or both Raul and her will have our heads for stardust," said Roy.

"She and Raul," corrected Calla automatically as she followed him out into the hallway.

The corridors of Tiger Eye were thin and complex with a myriad of small miscellaneous rooms simply filled with junk as a precaution against invading enemies. More useless rooms meant more places to hide oneself, as did more twisting corridors. Those pirates born into the order spent countless hours of their childhood playing hide-and-seek in the endless passageways, honing their familiarity with the ship, with each other, and their skills at concealment and observation.

Here and there the pirates tried to liven the silver sterility, or the rusty ugliness, with splashes of color: a poster, a picture, some wallpaper, a bit of paint. Roy had even once decided to take it upon himself to sponge-paint all the western corridors, those along the port side that connected their quarters. Unfortunately for him, he only got one section done before the Commander decided "peppy pink" and "go-go green" were a bit much to look at and confined his exploits to his quarters, which he sponged emphatically to compensate.

As they passed the conjunction of the eastern and southern corridor systems they nearly ran into the miniscule, scaly, blue-skinned Naida, who jumped nimbly out of the way and blinked her enormous blue eyes in surprise.

"I'm sorry," she said in her lilting accent, "I didn't see you."

"Nah, our fault," replied Calla with slight agitation.

Naida was a Nymph, one of the very few truly alien species in the galaxy and yet remarkably humanoid. The fishlike Nymphs originated on the watery planet of Eidin and were adapted for both land and water; most Nymph children were encouraged to stay in the water for the first fifteen years of their considerably long lives in order to grow tall, but to venture onto land as well to build muscle for gathering land-based foods. Nymphs destined for royalty, however, stayed exclusively in the water, growing very tall and elegant, learning to be quick, agile, wise, and difficult prey. Royal Nymphs were very wise, very few, very elusive, and very old, traditionally nearing nine standard centuries. Shamed Nymphs, those convicted of a crime, for example, were banished exclusively to land, where the gravity stunted their growth.

Since the planet was discovered by human beings carrying the secrets of space travel and paths to far-off worlds, Nymphs have taken to banishing their shamed ones off the planet. Naida, because of her height of barely more than four and a half feet, had obviously grown up in gravity. Her young age shone through in her naivety.

"I am glad to see your mission a success," she commented as they hurried towards the bridge. "You and Raul are friends now again, yes?"

"I sure hope so, Naida," replied Calla, shuddering at the thought of Raul's infamous vengeances.

Urrishki joined them at the next intersection, his bright eyes blinking a greeting from under his shaggy brown-white fur. The burly, bear-like alien grunted, and the translator at his throat exclaimed, "Greetings," in a disinterestedly-friendly tone.

Calla laughed. "Sorry, Urrishki, I'll re-program Chuck right after Raul gets this promo." On the first day of its existence, Roy had called the translator Chuck for who-knows-whet reason, and it stuck. Then she remembered the little box. "That reminds me," she said, removing the item from her pocket, "I managed to obtain some of--this." Carefully she pulled off the top of the box and removed its contents, a bag of finely chopped organic substance.

"Oh," breathed Naida, awe and fear creeping into her voice. Unable to restrain herself, she gingerly lifted the box from Urrishki's fingers, turning it over and over like a child examining a kaleidoscope. "Oh, Calla, where did you find this? If the police find out... if the others find out...."

For a moment, Naida's unfinished sentence hung in the air.

"Exactly," said Calla excitedly, finally breaking the silence. "This will give us a leg up on the other pirate clans! We have something powerful to barter with. As for where I got it, let's say that its previous owner spent a little too much time partying."

"I'll lock this away right now until I can purify it when the need arises," droned Urriski's translator. The big alien padded off down the corridor, muttering something softly enough the translator could pick it up.

Moments later, Naida and Calla reached the yawning dome of the bridge, the largest undivided section on the ship with walls that curved and swooped upward. Invisible vid-screen cells covered the front wall, and the crew preferred to have them constantly on and set at window-image to display a panorama of stars.

The remainder of the crew was already there waiting. Raul must have gotten what he needed, for his gaze was now focused and calm. Even Xadi was there, leaning unobtrusively against the wall, his face lost in the depths of a hooded cape.

Brusquely, the Commander stepped forward.

"Excellent," she said. "All crew members?"

"Aye," they all intoned, one after the other, beginning a ritual old as the first outcasts ever to steal a spaceship and ride off into the freedom of the stars.

"Let's get started. Raul, step forward."

As he obeyed solemnly, Calla, Roy, Naida, Urrishki, and Xadi formed a ring encircling the Commander and Raul. Silence began to leaden the air as the Commander slipped the glove from her left hand. Seeing the prosthetic skeleton that consumed the Commander's left hand and most of her left side always sent chills through Calla; the wounds were a grim reminder of the dangers pirating could hold.

Brusquely, the Commander planted her smallest digits, her middle and ring fingers, around the sapphire stone clinched tightly between the ends of the sacred steel circlet embedded in the forehead of every true pirate in the known universe. With a deft twist the Commander worked the stone out of its set. Raul's fists clenched briefly, but to his credit only the barest sign of a flinch flickered across his face as the circlet stretched to free the stone. Drops of blood beaded around the sleek edge. The Commander withdrew a deep red stone from a breast pocket.

"Raul Nemik, number seven-three-six-five, for your recent actions proving your assets and abilities as well as your clean record of loyalty to clan Sonul, I promote you to the rank of Adept and bestow upon you the red Earth ruby for you to wear with pride. Long life to you, Companion."

For the final part of the ritual, the Commander placed the stone on the setting, paused, and then tapped it firmly, once. With an audible 'click,' the stone locked into place. Raul's eyes closed briefly in pain, but this petty flinch earned him no dishonor in the eyes of his peers. The Commander bowed curtly to him; he bowed back in the same fashion.

As he came up, the ceremony over, relief washed over his face. All tension dissolved in an instant. Calla whooped, Urriski growled, Naida grinned.

Roy cheered and withdrew a long-necked bottle from a storage cell in the wall. "Here's to our new Adept, Raul!" he shouted, twisting the cork. "Finally my equal in rank, but, alas, still far below me in skill." He had to resume twisting the cork after ducking Calla's swing. Unfortunately, the bottle of champagne was not in the most congratulatory mood, and he ended up smashing the neck on the wall in frustration and spraying the bubbling liquid all over Xadi, who shook his head and disappeared down the corridor. Roy shoved the bottle into Naida's hands and triumphantly revealed the aluminum cups he had brought up from Tiger Eye's galley.

Roy, Calla, Raul, and Urrishki drank, shared stories, laughed, and joked late into the planetary night. Naida, who hated such "poisons," turned in early to sleep. The Commander disappeared with Xadi.

As fatigue and alcohol worked on their systems, however, Raul and then Urrishki headed off to the living quarters. Only Calla and Roy remained sitting together on the steel tiling of the bridge, listening to the smooth humming of the majestic ship, watching Aldona's sun slowly creep over the horizon of the watery planet, imagining the golden light beginning to filter in through the misty skies far below.

"He didn't even the score yet, did he," said Roy quietly, breaking the silence.

Calla sighed. "No."

"Don't worry, he likes you too much to kill you," he said, shooting her a slightly tipsy yet encouraging smile as the sun broke the horizon, bathing them in harsh light. The dimmer kicked in on the vidwindows then, and, in line with the planetary time of day, brought the sunlight down to a soft morning glow, the kind of glow seen across the kitchen table in old flat-screen films while dust danced in the air and the residents sipped tea in their rocking chairs.

"I'm too drunk with that horrid stuff you forced on us to tell if you're being sarcastic, Roy Nemik," she murmured, hugging her knees to her chest, "but I hope you're right."

Roy had either the decency or the blood alcohol level to remain silent.

For a few more minutes they sat in peace, then Calla bade Roy good rest and left him watching the sunbeams of the rising sun.