Dee, as she exited her stateroom and joined them.
He flashed an ID. “Captain Rankin?” he asked in a formal voice, “I’m Tor Redon, Angeles Kingdom customs. I reviewed the Stinger class specs, but your vessel seems to vary somewhat from the standard.”
Cale nodded. “I’m not surprised, Ser Redon. I know about some of the modifications, but most just took place over the last 400 years.
“For instance,” he continued, “I understand that the standard spec calls for two Alliance quickfirers, Cheetah has only one, and has had a laser installed in place of the second. That, in turn, called for a somewhat larger fusactor. I have no idea when that was done,” he lied, “But I’m sure it would be an interesting story. As would many others.” He sighed. “Ah, if these walls could only talk!”
Redon chuckled. “If it was a viceroy’s yacht, I’m sure many of the stories would not be fit for repeating.”
Dee reddened. Redon seemed to see her discomfort and changed the subject. “I do not see a bridge or a control room, Captain.”
Cale smiled. “It’s more of a ‘control closet’,” he replied. “The ship has a very large and very advanced AI that controls most functions. Those functions requiring human intervention are usually referred to the lounge viewscreen.”
“Actually,” he continued as he showed the inspector the ‘control room’, “That’s why I could afford to buy her. Her last owner just couldn’t adjust to an AI that advanced. He was always afraid it would make an error and strand him in null space. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore.”
The man glanced around the small cubby. “I see his point,” he replied. “These controls are pretty rudimentary.”
Cale smiled as he pointed out the controls for the quickfirer and the laser. Redon placed gaudy seal tape on both consoles, warning them that removal of the seals was punishable by up to five years’ hard labor.
Despite the thoroughness of Redon’s inspection, there was simply too little ship to take much time to inspect. Cale went out of his way to be cheerful and friendly, and less than an hour elapsed before Redon pronounced himself satisfied. “You may proceed to the fourth planet, Captain,” He said in a formal tone. “Maximum permitted acceleration is. 5G. Be sure to maintain communication with System and Orbital Control. I hear you had pirate trouble,” he continued in a more conversational tone. “I suspect you’ll be hearing from the Justice Ministry. Don’t let them scare you. Pirates are not popular in the Kingdom.” Cale escorted the man to the airlock and watched as he cycled through and returned to the station.
Dee seemed only somewhat mollified. “At least you had the decency to report it and send S amp;R. They may still be able to save some of those poor souls’ lives.”
Cale shook his head in disgust. “Those ‘poor souls’ were intent on robbery, kidnapping, rape, slavery and murder,” he replied acidly. “And if any of them are found alive, they will be executed after some of the shortest trials in history.” He scowled. “But, that doesn’t matter to you, does it? Someone else will be doing the work. All that matters is that you don’t get your own dainty little hands dirty. I hate bleeding hearts like you!” He spun on his heel and stamped into his stateroom.
As soon as he entered, Tess notified him that they were cleared to proceed, and that she had programmed the assigned vector. At his muttered “Go,” she began moving away from the station. Cale was angry, morose, sad, and ashamed, all at once, and would need time to deal with it. She had his approval to maneuver. She could handle everything else for a while.
Cale was not the only human on board dealing with emotional turmoil. Dee was dealing with the reactions of the people Cale had talked with. Where was the outrage at the presumed deaths aboard the pirate? Even the rescue agent had congratulated Cale on his decision to run away. Pirates were just thieves, robbers, weren’t they? Why this unbridled hatred? Oh, sure, there were many horror stories, but those were just for vids and frightening children, weren’t they?
Like those pictures and vids supposedly from Atlantea. A pirate gang had supposedly raided the entire planet! It was claimed that they had looted the major cities and escaped with three shiploads of loot while committing horrible atrocities. It had to be fiction, of course.
But the newsies were all over it, with pictures and vids supposedly showing the actual raid. It was horrible, unthinkable stuff. All it proved was that some writers had insanely lurid imaginations. Human beings simply could not do those things to other human beings.
Could they?
She asked Tess for official records of pirate activity. Not sensie vids, not horror vids, but real, authenticated records.
There were plenty. The records on Atlantea were not yet complete, with post-mortem investigations continuing. But there were plenty of other records. Overwhelmed, she told Tess to limit it to the last twenty years. Even so, it ran to thousands of screens of information.
It appeared she had been wrong. In their own way, the cold, bald official pictures, descriptions, and vids of torture, mutilation, and murder were even more horrifying than the slick vids the newsies produced.
She had been wrong. Humans could be that inhuman. She still didn’t know why Cale hated them so much, but she was coming to understand the general hate and repugnance toward pirates. Dee closed the files with a grimace. It was a whole ugly world of which she had been ignorant, and her black and white “life is priceless” attitude was beginning to show shades of gray.
No, they weren’t just thieves and robbers, or street gangs in starships. They were monsters. You cannot reason with monsters. No amount of psychobabble could rehabilitate them. It had been tried in the Old Empire, as had conditioning and even machines that “adjusted” them — by reducing their IQ to 80 and conditioning them to be content with menial jobs. That last one had worked, but had quickly been stopped on grounds the treatment was “inhumane.” So mankind settled on the time-honored solution used with other forms of deadly animals: shoot on sight.
But what about Cale? What did he mean he’d ‘dealt with them before’? He was obviously familiar enough with pirates to put up with her disgust rather than chance following her wishes. Could he have been right? The S amp;R agent seemed to think he was.
Her thoughts in a whirl, she stayed in her stateroom through the 42-hour trip to Angeles, the system’s fourth planet.
Her musings were interrupted by Tess’s quiet voice. “Mistress Raum, please join the Captain in the lounge. We are approaching Angeles, and have received instructions.” Her tone was formal and neutral.
Cale greeted her with a curt nod. “Mistress Raum, we have received instructions from Orbital Control. We are directed to ground at the government starport rather than the orbiting commercial port. I assume this relates to our incident with the pirates.
“I do not know what to expect,” he continued. “However, I think we can expect to be detained, or at least our freedom of movement to be restricted until the S amp;R mission returns, which may be two to four weeks. We are certain to be questioned. Please answer all questions fully and truthfully. Do not try to defend our conduct, and please try to avoid being judgmental.”
He presented her an envelope. “Technically, my contract with Faith’s government is complete. We are two jumps from Faith, and you are no longer in my custody. That envelope contains the check your father sent along. If you wish, you may consider our business concluded, and go your way.
“However,” he continued, “Angeles is not the mutual choice I promised you. I would like to offer you transport to any other system within two jumps of Angeles, if you so desire.” He sighed deeply. “I very deeply regret the difference in outlook that divides us, and that prevented us from becoming better acquainted. I hope you will consider my offer.”
Dee was numb. It was so sudden! Just like that, everything is over. She had lost her home and family, her whole planet, and now his cold, formal tone suggested she had lost the only person left that she was beginning to consider a friend. She was on a strange planet with no one she knew. All she had was that damned envelope, and money was no substitute for a friend. She suddenly felt very small and helpless. Tears started to well in her eyes, and she clamped down on them mercilessly.
She swallowed. “Thank you for the offer, Captain,” she replied in the same formal tone he had used. “I will certainly consider it.”
She paused, and then rushed ahead. “I have been doing some research, and have come to conclude that my reactions may have been hasty and ill-advised. I would like to apologize for some of the comments I have made and
