A Pirate on the Sea of Stars.
By Jim King
Part One
The old man lifted the overflowing tankard to his lips and quaffed deeply, the amber fluid running down the weathered skin of his cheeks and dripping through his grey shot beard. The handful of lights overhead glistened on the droplets as they fell.
The old tavern was wide and low ceilinged, a handful of solar lamps mostly above the bar and round the walls but a few of the tables such as the one the old man sat at were well lit. Two men sat at the round wooden table, the old sailor and a man whose face was in darkness beneath the shadows of his wide brimmed hat, a fine black velvet coat, dark blue sash and a pair of ornate laser pistols marked this man as someone wealthy, or powerful.
Captain people had named him when he entered, pirate they called him where he could not hear the word spoken.
The table was surrounded by a crowd of common sailors, clothed in ever colour, fine shirts or tattered tunics, dark skinned of pale as the dead, but every one of them was well armed and they clustered close around the table, all save the few who stood by the tall, cadaverous figure who stood behind his master. Not a man of the crew wanted to stand too close to that fell scarecrow.
The old sailor finished and slammed the tankard down, where it stood, defeated, beside the three tankards he had already drained. No sooner had his fingers released the empty one when yet another tankard, filled to the brim and with foam still falling down its pewter sides, was pushed into his grasp.
“Ah thank ye lads, an old sailor builds up a powerful thirst on a voyage like that last one.”
The sailor was old, past forty at the least, maybe even as old as fifty, skin like old leather, his bald pate smooth as a dome and his beard more white that grey with a bare few hairs left to mark the black of his youth. In clothing he wore much the same as those who clustered around the table, homespun tunic much patched and faded, canvas trews and boots of leather now cracked with age.
“What did you see?” The voice cut across the muttering with the authority of a ship’s captain and the mob fell silent, the old sailor paused then finished his latest tankard before slamming it to the table with a belch that spread his ale flavoured breath across the faces of the men who leaned close to hear every word.
“I saw her, with my own eyes I saw her, the lost ship, the treasure ship. As real as the lot of ya standing before me. She was floatin in the void, crippled. Masts lost. Not a sight o the crew ta be seen but she was there right enough. Four runs, an imperial ship fa sure. We passed her by, couldn’t stop but I saw her right as day. I was night watch on the balcony, we was running hard an fast, the captain said it was a short cut, an empty system I never heard of afore. So there I was with the captain’s binocs and naught but a few riggers aloft. I was lookin at the world and caught a glimpse of her, me old captain, he had a good pair of binocs, I could make out the name on the hull, it was the Leviathan.”
As the old sailor spoke the name every man around him drew a deep breath and as one looked at their captain who sat at the table across from the old man. A babble of voices began, questions asked in hushed voices that quickly rose in volume till those across the room began to pay attention.
“Silence, be quiet the lot of you.” The Captain’s voice was no shout but it cut across the babble and stilled every question. “Where was this old man, what system?” The man paused and looked at the five empty tankards then looked around him as if expecting another. “Name the system old man and I’ll buy you enough to drown yourself in, what was the name of the system.”
The old man perked up at the promise of endless beer. “Salaamese, that’s how it was marked on my captain’s chart, Salaamese.”
The Captain leaned back and glanced behind him to the tall, thin man who stood behind him, elderly and far better dressed than the common sailors, a thin face and pale eyes behind ornate spectacles. “Salaamese, do you know it?”
The navigator, for such he was, thought for a few seconds then nodded, “it’s a long run captain, nearly two weeks, and it’s one of the empty worlds in the veil cluster. One world with breathable air but no free ports or air asteroids, not inhabited as far as the records say”.
The Captain nodded, his wide brimmed hat moving the shadows across his face to reveal his grey shot beard and the cruel scar that marked the left side of his face. “Good enough, now keep you damn mouths shut and back to the ship quick as you can, bosun, check the stores and have the riggers ready to get aloft, I want to sail within the hour.” A cheer started but was quickly silenced and the gathered crew fell over themselves as they rushed to the door, other customers who had tried to overhear what was being said jumped back at the rush and a few pints were spilled but before anyone could argue the sailors were gone. Only the captain, the navigator, the various bodyguards and the old sailor remained.
The Captain stood and waved his hands down his sides, to rub away any wrinkles on his black fine coat caused by sitting; he leaned toward the senior of his guards and nodded at the old sailor. “I don’t want him talking to anyone else; he comes with us, but quietly, no fuss.” The tall, well muscled man nodded then grinned, the scar across his face made the grin lopsided. This wasn’t the first time he had done this sort of thing.
The Captain looked around, the tavern was busy but the locals were keeping their distance, this system was no stranger to smugglers but a pirate captain, a full blown frigate with the dark reputation this one carried, that was something rare. Something to be feared.
The Captain started toward the door, men stepped aside and not just from fear of the captains bodyguard, those burly killers who flanked him as he walked, there was something chill about this man with his face hidden beneath that wide black hat, as if death walked among them.
Just before the door the Captain paused and thrust out his arm, grabbing hold of one of the tavern doxies and pulling her against his chest, she shrieked then laughed as she saw who it was that had pulled her. Her laughter stopped as she looked into the darkness beneath the hat then she froze as she felt his fingers push into hers, something was placed into the palm of her hand, a disc, metal by its weight, a coin and a sizable one at that.
She glanced down then looked back at the shadow beneath the hat. Her hand sliding the coin beneath her apron where it would be hidden from sight.
The captain released her and she stepped away from him, suddenly frightened and not knowing why.
The Captain strode past the girl and reached the door then paused and looked back into the room, the girl had served him well and she would see no more than a penny or two of the shillings he had paid the tavern owner. She was young, fresh, not worn down by the life of a tavern whore, a gold crown wasn’t enough to buy her a better life but it would certainly be a good start.
The Captain had arrived a few hours ago and hired the girl then spent an hour with her in one of the grubby rooms upstairs, it had been when he joined his crew for a drink afterwards that the old sailor had approached him asking for coin to wet his whistle and the offer of a story in return for ale.
Two of the Captain’s bodyguards were still with the old sailor, the crack of the club wasn’t heard above the noise of the tavern and the few who noted them leave saw no more than shipmates helping an old sailor who was deep in his cups.
#
The Captain and his party reached the docks after a few minutes walking the narrow streets of this free port, buildings of stone, brick, ancestor forged metal and plastic or even wood crowed together to make the most of the limited space, the towns boundaries set long in the past by the need to leave as much space as possible for the Venusian moss that produced the air the inhabitants needed.
More than a few men and even a handful of women looked at the well dressed captain and navigator with greedy eyes but the bodyguard were big men, and alert, with ready hands on pistol or blade, so the footpads remained in the shadows and looked for easier prey.
The dock was a series of jetties reaching out into space and to someone standing in the town they seemed to be directly overhead with the ships hanging above the town nose down, their masts reaching out like the bare branches of an old earth tree in winter. Curved ramps from the edge of the town allowed the small group to walk around in a quarter circle until they were walking the dock with the town behind them and below them.
The Captain and his small party picked the closest dock up toward the ship that waited there. Not the largest ship docked here but by far the most dangerous compared to the merchant ships and corvettes that normally berthed here. The fat bellied merchants looking slow and clumsy beside the lean dangerous shape of the frigate
In front of them was their ship, like a vast dumb bell hanging in space, the forward section more a cone than a sphere and larger than the middle such that it stood away from the main deck. The central section was a half circle, the upper section a flat deck, long and slim and crowned with the masts that stood out far from the ship, a single deck below that was no more than a few storerooms between the heavy frames that held the many masts. The aft section was twice the size of the forward section but broader and more rounded in the stern. It stood three floors above the deck, two floors below and the balcony on the highest floor gave a good view over the deck and the two upper floors of the forward section. Aside from the flat length of the deck the fore and aft sections had roofs that were curved and not made for walking on. The ship’s steel clad wooden hull was covered with faded dark green paint and the remains of dirty white marked the rails and bases of the masts.
The Captain was barely aboard when he began issuing orders, pull in the gang plank, start the engine and move the ship out from the dock into empty space, crew to their stations. The bosun stood nearby and each order was shouted across the deck as the crew leapt into action.
Captain Thale commanded a full crew but did so himself, only the bosun and a single lieutenant who commanded the boarders. There was no first officer, not other lieutenants. The crew whispered as to why but never where the Captain could hear, a man would get a beating from the bosun or the bodyguards for spreading such rumours but if the captain heard, most of the crew had been on the ship when the captain took the Apella, they had seen death walking the decks. Not a man amongst them wanted to join the ranks of the ghosts that followed their captain around.
Minutes after casting off the ship had turned and was far enough from the port to be clear of the docks, a shout sent the riggers aloft, the youngest and most nimble leading the way to the highest points of the beams that stood out as much as a hundred yards from the hull, the Herald was a three runner, she had three runs of masts, one of six along the main deck and two more each of five masts set to port and starboard on the curve of the amidships hull and angled down so each mast run was an equal distance from the others. It was the lower masts that were reserved for the best of the riggers, a fall from the deck masts would kill a man as he fell with the gravity field of the ship, but a fall from the flank masts, that left a man floating in the void till his air ran out and he died a slow lingering death.
Or worse.
There were tales, stories you heard in the taverns, late at night as the fires burned down, about those sailors who had fallen into the void and how the curse of the darkness turned them into something else, something with many names that forever afterwards hungered for the warmth of the living.
#
Captain Morgan Thale, Fellheart as he was known to those who feared his raids, stood on the balcony of the rear citadel and drew in a breath of freshly replenished air, before the rigours of the journey turned stale and tainted. Were they to stay in the void long enough the air would turn to poison, the Herald was not the biggest of ships and she ran with a large crew, her range was not so good and every voyage must be plotted to replenish the air frequently. At best the Herald could run two weeks, if they engaged in battle no more than a week since the lasers left a stench of fire in the air that filled the lungs and made men cough and choke.
Still all the ship had to do was touch the air bubble of a world or free station and the ships atmosphere would quickly clear and although worlds were wide spread the free stations were everywhere. In the old times they were asteroids, lifeless rocks floating in the void, then they had been seeded with the Venusian moss that grew and spread and produced good clean air. The moss was the devils own job to grow on a ship but those that could manage it were valued for such ships could voyage as far as they had food. Years ago Thale had spoken with a man of great learning who had the ill fortune to be a passenger on a merchant ship taken by the Herald, the man had a ransom so was kept safe and had spoken at length on many things. He had said the moss would only grow on certain types of rock where there was also ice, something about converting minerals and chemicals. The captain had only half listened, the man had talked constantly and little of it made sense.
A tall shape moved in the room behind him and the navigator stepped out onto the balcony.
“My calculations are done Captain, we will have two days at most before the air will be spent, I don’t like running that close.”
“Two days will be enough, there is a world there, is there not?”
“Yes captain, good clean air, still two days is hardly much, if my calculations are even slightly wrong.”
“I have never known you to be wrong old friend, not in all the years we have sailed together and I have no doubts now. If you say it can be done with days to spare then so be it.”
The Captain started to turn back into the cabin then a thought came to him. “It’s not often you doubt yourself.”
“I don’t like this one captain, trouble is gathering, I can feel it.”
Thale grunted, he knew little of the navigators art and while he was no common sailor to call it witchcraft it was still close to magic. “You think we should turn away, seek other prey. A treasure ship, lost months ago, an Imperial ship to take.”
“More vengeance to be had captain?”
Thale shot a harsh look at the navigator, the man’s pale eyes stared back, unblinking behind the strange glasses he wore.
“You think I would risk my ship just for revenge?”
The navigator shook his head no, then he sighed and walked back into the cabin and to the long table littered with his charts and instruments.
“We can set full sails when you want captain, I’ll give the bosun the heading as soon as you are ready to go.”
Captain Thale turned away from the navigator and looked out across the deck at the lines of masts that ran down the deck and fell away to either flank.
‘Poseidon's Herald’ was a fast ship, with every Aetheric sail spread she could run between most worlds in a few days and cover most of the frontier in less than two months though she would need many a stop to do that. Outside of the imperial tax ships there wasn’t a merchant ship ever built that could outrun her and few enough ships of the imperial fleet that could catch her.
She lived to race between the stars not to dawdle in a single system.
“Give the bosun the heading and tell him to go to full speed as soon as the sails are out. Put this rock behind us and the stars before us.” The captain seemed to say something else but if the words left his lips they were too quiet to be heard then he strode to the stairs and down to the deck below and to the privacy of his cabin, his boots loud on the polished wooden planks and lost in his thoughts.
#
On the deck the bosun put the brass cup of the speaking tube back onto its hook and turned to shout at the riggers who had been waiting for his orders and leapt to obey. With his orders given the man stood and looked to the masts to see his orders followed.
The sails were half spread now, ghostly wings on both sides of each mast, rippling as they began to catch the invisible winds of the Aether, the higher sails were larger and spread wider so took longer to run out.
Aetheric sails, somehow caught the winds that blew between the stars carrying a ship between worlds at speeds unimaginable under the common plasma drives used for close manoeuvres or by skiffs and launches. No man or woman alive knew what the Aetheric winds were or how they came to have flows and currents but since they never changed centuries old charts were still in use though none but the navigators held the knowledge of their use.
The last sails were pulled tight and billowed out, pushing the ship forward faster and faster as the stars began to blur and turn into smears across the void which turned from black to grey.
‘Poseidon’s Herald was returning to its home in the darkness.
Above and to both sides the pale glimmer of the Aetheric sails unfurled, so thin you could just see the stars through them yet so strong you could not cut them with a good steel blade. Another marvel of the ancients, there were few now who understood the sails but factories still existed where they could be made and only the worst of fools would risk a sail maker with death. The ransom for such a man was huge and every hand would be turned against such a barbarian.
Thale had seen a sale maker once, in the service of the Empire, a small fleet escorted the man and his family for protection as he was taken to work at a recently repaired factory and an entire platoon of the Imperial army had acted as bodyguards. But that had been years ago, back before, before he had lost his old ship and his old life.
#
For a ship the size of Herald and with such a large crew two weeks between stops was a long run and the air had fouled after the first week. The smell came first, unwashed bodies and unwashed clothing, but the crew quickly became used to that. Next came the dank fog that started to form around the tips of the masts and walkways then slowly spread down toward the ship. Headaches came next, leaving every man grumpy and quick to anger.
Concentration became difficult and men forced themselves to focus on the task at hand. The bosun and his mates worked hard to prevent accidents as tired men forgot all but the simplest tasks.
By mid way through the second week the crew were beginning to mutter and moan as any crew does but the ready presence of the bosun, the ship’s officers and the captains guards kept men in their places, that and the dreams of treasure beyond counting. The tax of an entire world stored in the hold of a wrecked ship, there for the taking.
The ship at least had plenty of food and water, something that was noted in the oldest histories as having been the problem on many a voyage upon the long forgotten waters of the world that had birthed their great grandfathers. In those long ago times before the strange ship, crewed by men just like them and yet so different, had crashed and the wisest of men and women had spent years learning its secrets. Now there were few alive who had even seen the old world, the place far distant and all but a legend. Now it was air that determined how far a ship could travel not fresh food or drinking water.
The crew counted the days and watched the navigator each day walk out onto the balcony to make his readings, it was with great relief that that they saw him take his measurements on what should be the final day of the voyage, they stood upon the deck or a few hung in the rigging and watched as he took great care of his calculations then nodded once and called for the captain. The navigator’s voice was not loud but the crew were silent as they waited and a cheer ran across the deck.
The captain had been waiting in the officers mess on the deck below and hurried up the narrow stair to the highest room on the ship, by tradition the navigators cabin was at the back of this floor and the forward section open and filled with his instruments and charts, in battle the captain would command from the balcony using voice tubes to give orders to the crew below but for the rest of the trip the balcony was seldom used.
#
The navigator stood beside the vast dark oak table that filled the centre of the room and peered closely at his instruments, another technology painstakingly leaned from the dead ancestors who had fallen to the old world, more art than science, a navigator trained his apprentice or son to the job and carefully hoarded the instruments that measured a ships journey through the void, few craftsmen could make such complex devices and the oldest ones were treasures beyond counting.
“Coming up now captain” he said then coughed, the air was rank and his head pounded as much as his joints ached. He made a tiny adjustment of one dial then a second, “ten seconds from my mark. MARK!”
The captain stepped across the cabin to the open door and onto the balcony, his watch in his hand, the ships bosun stood ready beside him, his head lifted and his eyes already focused on the riggers aloft. The second hand ticked and ticked again.
“Now!”
The bosun bellowed, his leather throated voice hoarse from a lifetime of shouting across the deck. “LOOSE ALL SAILS”! The riggers quickly obeyed, slip knots were released and the huge panels of sails flapped like wings trying to escape from the masts. Ropes whipped back and forth and the riggers ducked and held to the masts and walkways with a grip of iron, it was that or be knocked free to face a fall to their deaths, or an even worse fate.
With the sails set lose to flap they spilled the Aether winds and the ship slowed, the stars became pin points of light instead of blurs across the sky, ahead of them they could see the blue and green ball of a life bearing world, still distant and so small it could be covered with the tip of a thumb but it promised fresh air and maybe food or water.
But there was something else, something that bought cheers from the deck and the rigging where every crewman who leaned forward for a better look.
Far ahead and floating in the void was a ship, no more than a finger in length at this distance but to sharp eyes the four runs of sails and ornate citadels could be seen. An Imperial ship, a four run with lines of masts on the deck, port, starboard and below. Five times the length of the Herald and with cargo holds large enough to carry the tax of an entire world.
A few of the riggers with young, sharp eyes were calling descriptions. She was damaged, three forward masts to port were gone and two forward below were broken and hanging lose. She must have hit something and been calmed but she looked intact. Men shouted to each other, boasting of how they would spend their share of the booty.
The Herald fired up her plasma drives and with the rumble felt through the decks she got underway, closing the distance steadily.
The captain stood on the balcony using a pair of fine old binocs to examine the prize, her hull looked intact, whatever she had hit must have struck the masts alone, aft her masts were intact with sails furled away neatly. Her crew must have survived the crash enough to tidy away the sails and rigging, but what happened to them, looking at the masts and walkways the captain could see no sign of the fog that marked foul air but there wasn’t a man or boy in sight. Not a living thing moved aboard the massive ship.
Then the Herald’s course bought it above the line of the vast ship’s deck and the captain gasped as he saw the dark green that marked the presence of Venusian moss, the entire upper deck was carpeted with the life giving stuff. No wonder the air looked clean, this ship created its own air.
Suddenly the captains mind was busy with new numbers, the value of unseen treasure forgotten as he tried to calculate the value of the ship before him.
The ship was big, above and below it ran eight masts, port and starboard only six, they would need to trim the intact masts to match the missing ones or the ship would turn constantly and be beyond navigation and with so many masts and sails out of action it would be slow.
Still with a deck of moss, air was no problem and he had plenty of food for a few months, did he have enough crew, could his riggers run so many sails at once, the Imperial ship would have run a crew twice his own and many of his crew were to fight not sail. Could he take the ship itself?
By the ancient gods and forgotten oceans he would try!
Part Two
The stern of the imperial ship loomed above them like a cliff, the captain had given orders to the helmsman to bring the Neptune’s Herald close off her stern and now the bow of the Herald was no more than fifty yards from the vast stern of its prize. The air envelopes of the two ships had met a minute before and now the air aboard the herald was clean and fresh, the fog gone as if it had never been; men drew deep breaths of the clean air and gazed in wonder at the sight before them.
The Leviathan ran to ten floors in its stern citadel, perhaps eleven if you counted the bilges, the lower six set with more normal windows but the upper four were set with shared windows that ran from the floor of one to the ceiling of the next. The crew could clearly see that the upper floor of each pair was built like a balcony behind the vast windows. Each window held more glass than every window on the herald together and the two windows stood as tall as the heralds bow. The frames and surrounds were ornate, carved into figures of men and beasts, each corner was formed of fish tailed women curved around the glass.
The stern windows alone were worth the ransom of a wealthy merchant or the cargo of a small prize and there was not a man in the crew who gazed upon such wealth who did not feel greed stirring in their hearts.
Set to the port of the lower large window was a hatch, the design standard on ships for many centuries, a wheel to turn and lock bolts to either side. If it were unlocked it would give easy entry into the ship, safer to boot, for reaching the Leviathans deck would mean crossing the forest of masts and the Herald carried no small craft. Still if the hatch was locked they could close where the side masts were smashed and maybe get close enough to climb across by ropes or the boarding ramp.
A pair of riggers were picked by lot and with the promise of first pick of the loot they tied thin ropes around their waists and jumped the distance across to the other ship. One tumbled and hit the hull sideways then bounced away and was hauled back to the mocking laughter of his fellows, the other jumped true and landed beside the hatch, catching hold of the bars set there for just that purpose. This young rigger was greeted with cheers and he quickly tied himself to the hatch and set to work hauling across a heavier rope.
Yard by yard and with men standing ready with boat hoots to fend off a crash the Herald was hauled closer until it was no more than twenty yards from the hatch, woven balls of rope were slung out in case the hulls bumped and other riggers swung across to make the two ships fast.
Then as every man jack of them stood with baited breath the hatch was tried, the wheel was stubborn and stuck before turning freely and the clunk of the locks opening sent yet another cheer across the deck.
Many amongst them surged forward before the Captain’s shout stopped them where they stood.
“As you were fools, we’ll treat this like any other boarding in case there are survivors amongst the crew. Boarders arm and assemble on the fore deck, gunners stand to the forward citadel and ready the lasers, riggers be ready for action, Leave the boarding ramp stowed, we’ll go across on ropes.”
The bosun appeared at the captains shoulder. “MOVE IT YA DOGS!” The crew sprang into action, they had done this many a time before but never for so rich a promised prize. The boarding crew opened chests stored on the deck and passed around gambesons, helmets and weapons. The tough gambesons were made of thickly quilted canvas, the pockets filled with chemical treated wool that boiled under the kiss of a laser providing a second or two of protection and the thick garments were tough enough to take a few blows from blade or club. The helmets were of good steel and well polished, everyone knew that if you polished steel to gleam like a mirror it would oft times turn a laser aside.
For weapons they carried blades long and short, a few laser pistols but most carried bulky short barrelled boarding lasers able to fire a burst of shots as many as a score of times. In the hands of a good shot a boarding laser could sweep clear a swath of rigging or deck in a single shot. The power packs were old or a more recent build of lesser quality and the buzz of a laser without power was a sound all feared so every man carried at least one blade as well.
Now armed and ready the first few boarders swarmed across the ropes and waited at the hatch till the lieutenant joined them and waved the first pair through the hatch and into the darkness beyond.
The pair stepped into a small room, no more than s closet and found a door that led into the huge hall beyond, light from the stars and sun streamed through the tall windows and fell upon the richly decorated chairs and tables that filled the hall that made the stern of this deck, the curved wall of glass rising before the boarders and giving them a good view of the Herald as she hung in the void outside. The floor above was set back and the balcony was a good dozen yards back from the glass giving the impression the hall or perhaps dining room was much taller.
More boarders came crowding through and began to spread throughout the room. A stair was found leading up to the deck above and doors leading forward on this level. The lieutenant came in and took in the room with a glance then sent his boarders to spread out and check beyond the doors and up the stairs. Then he looked down and idly ran a finger across the richly carved back of the chair beside him, his touch leaving a clean line in the thick dust, no one had been here for many a day.
The Leviathan was close enough to the sun here that its solar batteries were kept fully charged and the lights in this room worked well so it was brightly lit even away from the window though this one dining room was larger than the entire officer’s deck on the Herald.
The captain came aboard, his bodyguards covering the room carefully before he stepped though the hatch and closet and entered the dining room. Fellheart stopped and took a pose, his right hand resting on the holstered pistol at his right hip, his left hand resting on the ornate hilt of the long blade at his left hip, a third pistol tucked through his sash and a short blade in his right boot top of his gleaming black leather knee boots. He looked around the room, well decorated and richly appointed, for passengers with money and status. A shout came from the stairs. “Captn, be quarters up here, the whole deck be cabins, every one of em lookin like the rooms in a rich man’s brothel.”
The captain took another look around the room noting the dust and the signs that no living person had used the room for a long time. “Lieutenant Cale, spread out the boarders, sweep up through the officers rooms above and check the navigators chambers, no looting yet but tell the men to be alert, the crew haven’t been here for many a week but until I know for sure what happened to them we stay alert. I’ll take my guards and go forward to check the deck. Where’s Symonds?” The captain looked around and spotted the senior rigger standing with a few of his men by the door they had come in from.
“Symonds, with me, let’s have a look at the rigging, I want to see what state she’s in.”
The chief rigger nodded then thought for a second. “Ya thinking ta get her moving capen, she be a big job for just my lot.”
“Let’s see how the rigging is first before I start making plans.”
The chief rigger tugged his forelock and turned to call several of his men to follow him then the group of them fell in behind the captain and his guards. They walked to the front of the dining room, passed a wide door that stood open and led into a well appointed kitchen and to a heavy door that led out onto the main deck. Before them stretched the main deck of the Leviathan, an imperial cargo ship her mid section was wider by far than the narrow waist of the Herald and their ship could have landed on the vast expanse of deck were they able to ship the masts and do such a strange thing.
In front of them was a short wall of grey stone running the width of the deck and beyond a field of the Venusian moss, a path lined and paved with the same stone ran the length of the deck and finished at an open area before the bow citadel. The closest mast was set on the deck before them and beyond the other topside masks reached skyward like branchless trees.
“Thar be odd capen.” The chief rigger had been peering up at the closest mast. “Them sails and riggin be squared away real neat an tidy, like she was anchored.” The captain tilted his head upwards, his eyes weren’t the equal of the riggers, coming from a well off family he had learned to read at a young age and a life of peering at charts and books beneath uncertain light had robbed him of the sharp eyes of his youth.
“Anchored, not furled after the crash?”
“Not as I see it capen, we furl sails mid voyage we fold em and tie em down so we can pull the ties an get em out quick. We hit something an ya order sails furled that what I order. These be rolled and tight, like she was goin ta be anchored somewhere fa a while. Take a couple o hours to get up sail with em like that.”
The captain looked around and his eye fell on the world some distance off. “Why anchor here, what bought them to this place? What were they doing?”
“Beg pardon capen, what be that?” The captain realised he had been speaking his thoughts aloud. “Nothing, just thinking. Check the side masts, see if they’re the same.”
The chief rigger tugged his forelock and turned to order his people to the rails either side, ladders led down around the hull to allow the riggers to access the side masts but the riggers stood by the rails and looked out to see the sails rolled and tightly tied in the same way as the upper masts had been.
The captain turned back toward the aft citadel and his guards followed, with the moss spread across the deck the only way into the cargo holds would be through the huge side hatches and through the crew quarters in the lower levels.
#
Lieutenant Cale stood on the polished wooden floor and looked around the room, much larger than the navigators room on Neptune’s Herald and with what looked like store rooms on one side and the navigators quarters on the other, the balcony forward was also wider and deeper, you could have stood fifty men on the balcony with ease. The captain’s cabin and day room were aft and sat on the balcony that reached out over the officer’s dining room on the floor below. The lieutenant was an officer, his father and grandfather had been officers, his grandfather had captained a corvette. But never in his life had he seen such luxury and the thought of serving as an officer on such a ship was something beyond his dreams.
Idly he picked up one of the complex tools that sat covered in dust on the table, it had the look of the devices the navigator used each day on the herald and while he could only guess at its worth he knew how carefully the navigator treated his devices, to leave them gathering dust on the table like this was strange, as if the Leviathans’ navigator had left in a hurry or didn’t care.
The sound of course laughter attracted his attention and he carefully placed the item back on the table then turned in time to see two of the boarders walk out of the captain’s cabin, one held a bulging sack of rich cloth and the other was trying to grab it.
“You heard the captains orders?” It was a question but the way the lieutenant spoke made any answer but yes a risk. “Aye sir, we, erm, we just be piling this up fa later sir.” The two men were bigger and older than the officer but both had followed him onto the decks of another ship several times before and neither was eager to risk his anger, the lieutenant had rare skill with a long blade.
” Leave in on the table and get on with the search.” The bag was dropped with haste and both men almost ran to the stairs down to the officer’s quarters below. The bag clunked when it hit the solid wood and then fell sideways with a ring unique to gold.
The lieutenant grunted and turned back to his examination of the room, cursed fools, nothing started a fight faster than the rumour that some men were holding back when it came to sharing the loot. With a year’s tax from an entire world in the holds even the share a common sailor would get would be far more than a single bag of coins. Foolish.
Then he heard a sound, movement, a step on the wooden floor and he turned ready to bark an order at the men who should have gone below. What he saw stilled his voice and his hand flashed to the hilt of his blade.
#
The boarders had cleared the upper citadel and were now below on the crew decks, all save a pair with the lieutenant on the top floor. The captain looked around then stepped through the door that led to a side room and down the stairs to the crew quarters The crew decks were darker that the passenger and officer decks, there were barely a third as many lights here and they were well spread leaving deep shadows that the captain strode through as he passed door after door, the crew shared tightly packed cabins on both sides of the corridors and had a mess aft but that wasn’t where the captain was going.
He was heading forward to the thick bulkhead between the citadel and the cargo holds. A heavy door led through the bulkhead and onto a balcony of steel mesh and bars set high above the last of three cargo holds that made up the amidships of the Leviathan, the hold was dark and what little light streamed through the door barely touched the tops of crates and boxes that filled the bottom half of the hold below the captain. Even so there was far more in this one hold than the Herald could possibly carry and if the other two holds were as full they would leave a great deal of valuable loot behind them. In the captains mind the thought of being able to take the entire ship surfaced again when he heard a sound, metal clanging on metal.
Odd, it seemed to have come from below him, on the floor of the cargo hold. He turned to his closest bodyguard to ask had that man heard anything when the man’s gambeson erupted in white smoke and the man cursed and threw himself backwards. The guard on the other side yanked the captain backwards with one hand while drawing a pistol from his belt with the other.
“AMBUSH.”
#
“SHIP AHOY, PORT AN LOW SHE BE!” The shout came from one of the riggers on watch and he was pointed down and to the side. The bosun walked quickly to the rail and peered over the side, the ship was distant, small enough that the top of his thumb could hide it but it was a ship and it was coming closer.
“SHIP AHOY, BEHIND THE FIRST UN.” The bosun didn’t have the eyes to see detail at this distance so he shouted up to the riggers. “What be ye seein lads. Talk ta me.” The same rigger shouted back. “Two ships, the nearest be a three run ship, the other be two runs high an low, both under quarter sail.
The further one looks ta be a fat bellied merchant. The closer be a frigate by its look, five masts atop and four on the sides. Wait. Curse me, that be the Bonny Blue, captain McHowards ship.”
“You sure, I heard tell she was lost near two years ago?”
“Aye it be her right enough, she took a bad hit in battle ten year ago and weakened her fore deck, she had ta shorten her leading masts ta half size or rip open her hull. I can see em plain as day. It be the Bonny right enough.”
The bosun cursed and shouted to the riggers still hanging on the ropes by the Leviathans’ hatch. “You lad, git inside an warn the captain we be havin company.” Another pirate captain and with a bulky merchant in tow to fill with wealth from the wreck, enough for everyone or a battle to claim it all, that was for the captain to decide, one captain anyway,
The rigger vanished through the hatch while the bosun turned back to look at the tiny ships, they were closing steadily, quarter sail was faster than a plasma drive but not so fast they couldn’t manoeuvre, they would be alongside in no more than ten minutes. Then he noticed something odd about the forward citadel of the leading ship, spots of light where it should be solid hull. “Rigger, the leadin ship, look at her gun ports, what do ya see?”
“SHE BE CLEARED FA ACTION, HER GUNS PORTS BE OPEN AN HER GUNS BE RUN OUT.”
The bosun turned to the crew on deck and bellowed his orders. “TO ARMS YA DOGS, WE BE UNDER ATTACK!”
Part Three
Two men had come out of the store room opposite the navigators cabin though where they had been hidden the lieutenant could not have said for he and his men had checked the room and seen nothing.
The young officer has his sword in hand and was stepping forward to the attack as soon as he saw the long fencing sword in the hand of one. Both the new arrivals wore the ornate uniforms of imperial officers, red banded trousers of deep blue, jackets of the same colour set with gold braid and peaked caps on their heads shadowing their faces, one was an ensign, the other a third lieutenant. It was the lieutenant that held the sword.
The officer from ‘Poseidon's Herald’ bought his sword on guard and with a shout ordered the other two to yield, the only response was that both stepped closer and the more senior lifted his blade ready to strike. The move seemed slow, clumsy, and lieutenant Cale grinned as he swung his sword, the first blow to knock aside the imperials sword and the back stroke to slash across the exposed hip. The blow should have cut bone deep and dropped its victim but instead it was like hitting leather and the imperial barely grunted and staggered but came closer.
Cale stepped back and bought his sword up again, the man could have light armour under his clothes, it certainly felt like hitting armour so he came on guard again and slashed at the imperials flank, above the belt. A clumsy swing to block and Cales sword danced past and slashed the neck above the collar, no armour there but the blow still felt like it hit leather though it sunk as deep as the spine.
Lieutenant Cale yanked his sword free and then his eyes widened with shock and fear, that blow should have killed the imperial but there was no blood and though he could see the glint of white bone at the back of the savage cut the man still came closer. Cale’s legs hit the desk in the middle of the room, in his shock he had forgotten it was there and he was blocked, the table behind, the ensign to one side and the imperial officer that should be dead closing on the other.
#
Pistol in hand the captain made it through the door and back into the corridor where two of his guards were waiting, the other two pushed through behind him and one slammed the door shut and threw the locking bar.
“They can’t get up here, no stair or ladder. They’ll be below, down on the crew decks.” The lower crew decks, where his boarders were spread out searching for loot!
“The stairs, quick as you can.” The captain gave his order but he was at the run down the corridor before he had finished and his guards broke into a sprint to catch up. They ran past the empty crew cabins and reached the door to the stairs, it stood open and the captain went straight through at a run, beyond was the stair case and he took the first flight down two at a time, but before he reached the first landing he heard the clear hiss buzz of a boarding laser firing, then another and then the scream of a mortal wound.
They ran passed the second crew deck which was silent and came to the third where a few of the boarders were running to join those under attack below. The larger group ran down the stairs and pushed through the door into the shadowy corridor on the lowest crew deck and into a battle.
Beside the door one of the crew was grappling with a man in a dark blue or black uniform, the boarder was plunging his knife into the others chest again and again but the black clad man continued to choke the life from the boarder, both hands locked around his throat. The captain came through fast and ran past the fight but the first bodyguard out turned and put his laser pistol against the black capped head and pulled the trigger, a quick buzz and the stench of burnt flesh and hair filled the corridor but the man didn’t fall. With a sickening crack he snapped the boarders neck and stood up turning to face the bodyguards disbelieving stare.
Further down the corridor a pair of boarders stood side by side and fired again and again down the corridor toward the cargo bay, laser pulses flickering in the darkness and flames from the burning clothing of one unmoving body casting dancing shadows along the length of the corridor. The captain slowed himself and turned first to the fight behind him then toward the sight of the two firing again and again at a figure that half ran, half shambled toward them. A figure in a black uniform that took hit after hit as his clothes caught fire and the flame engulfed his face. Without a sound the man dropped dead no more than a few feet from the two who began to fire at another figure that came into sight running toward them, fear open on both their faces.
The captain bought up his laser pistol and put a shot into the back of the head of the man who had just killed one of his crew, he saw the laser hit, saw the hair burn, saw the front of the head explode, saw it still standing. The captain didn’t think, his fear drove his actions and he fired again and again till the head was nothing but a burning stump above the jaw. The figure collapsed and more of the crew came into the corridor from the stairs.
“Captn, these things, they don’t die, what be they.” The fastest of the bodyguards was a younger man, no more than a handful of battles to his name and his voice trembled with the ragged edge of terror after he had fired his laser pistol into the figure by the door, fired and watched the powerful laser pistol do nothing.
The oldest of the bodyguards, a dour man who had served with the captains father and was reputed to have seen such things as to drive a man insane stepped over the headless body and stopped by the one lying just in front of the two gunners. The corridor seemed to be clear so they had stopped firing and both were staggering back to the rest of the group. The bodyguard used his foot to flip the body over and shone a lantern onto its face then grunted as he looked at the shrunken face, the stark bones and eyes like pits, the teeth extended like fangs in the lipless mouth, the lank hair and the signs of rot and decay about the flesh.
“Void lost, captain, we be fightin ghouls.”
#
With the bosun’s shout the crew on deck ran to their places, gunners reached the forward and aft gun decks and began the familiar ritual of powering up the weapons though the forward citadel faced the Leviathan and couldn’t fire. The aft citadel had no such troubles and they opened the hatches and ran out the long barrels of the lasers with all haste.
“Bosun, we cannae fire forward, we be tied ta the big un. We must cut er loose.”
“Not while the captain be over there, ready ya guns an hold. Aft let loose as soon as ye can.” By now the approaching ships were well within range though the Bonny Blue hadn’t fired even though her guns were run out. The aft gunners needed no encouragement and all four lasers fired with seconds of each other. One missed completely, the second left a scar of molten metal across the lower curve of the forward hull. The third struck wide but blew one of the starboard masts into kindling and melted the sails of the mast behind into mist. The forth hit square and touched one of the open gun ports, a gout of fire erupted from the frigates forward citadel as the laser within exploded.
With one mast gone and the sails behind destroyed the frigate swung to the side then slowly began to turn back as it’s helmsman struggled to keep control, the merchant that had been behind it caught up and past it, heading straight for the Herald.
On the main deck the bosun grabbed the binocs left by a watchman who was now manning a gun and bought them up to look at the merchant, what he saw chilled him to his bones and bought a curse to his lips. The deck of the merchant was covered with figures, men, some in black, others in the bright and faded colours of merchants or pirates. Far too many to survive on the air envelop available to that size of ship, there must have been a hundred in sight.
“CUT US LOOSE! CUT THE TEATHERS! HELM FULL ASTERN AND LEFT!”
The rigger still waiting on the rope by the hatch heard the shout and pulled his belt knife to slash at the thick ropes holding the two ships together. The ropes were tough but the knife was good steel and well sharpened, within seconds the first rope was cut and then the second. The rigger jumped and held tight to the ropes that now floated free as the Herald began to back and turn under the thrust of its plasma drive.
The captain was cut off from his ship.
#
Lieutenant Cale was close to panic, he had never faced such a foe, he would stand against any man but what could he do when the man wouldn’t die. He tried to push himself back, away from the two imperials but his thighs were against the table, then panic gave his thoughts focus and he leaned back, throwing himself across the table in a scatter of priceless navigators tools. He twisted and he slid across the well polished wood and managed to get his feet beneath him as he reached the edge, landing in a half crouch then standing quickly. The imperials came round the table after him, one each side and he attacked the one with the sword.
Fear burned in this muscles and he tasted vomit in his mouth but he stepped forward. No finesse this time, he took a two handed grip on his sword and bought the blade down like an axe. The blow struck the neck again but this time didn’t stop at the spine, bone splintered as the backbone broke and the sword glanced off the figures shoulder as it came out through the gapping cut of the first wound. The whole head came away and the figure staggered then dropped as if pole axed. Cale drew a shuddering breath then screamed as hands grabbed his left arm and shoulder and the ensign grappled him and dragged him to the floor, the ensigns hat was knocked aside and Cale stared into the face of a boy, lost to the void and returned as a ghoul. Undead hands reached for his throat, nails like claws slashed his clothing and flesh as he frantically tried to push them aside then the ghoul got a solid hold on his throat and the lieutenant tired to gasp for breath that was no longer there.
Cale tried to batter the undead aside, flailing with both hands but his vision began to blur as he felt the first touch of suffocation. Then his right hand banged against his holstered laser pistol and he frantically pulled it lose, almost dropping it in his haste. He shoved the barrel into the ghouls face and fired again and again until the face and the head were gone and nothing but the foul stench of burnt flesh remained to burn his lungs as he took a shuddering breathe.
He rolled over and doubled up as his guts heaved again and again and he lay helpless on the polished wooden deck throwing up uncontrollably.
#
The captain stared at the face of the imperial crewman and half remembered tavern tales repeated themselves in his imagination. More laser shots came from another corridor and more screaming.
“BACK, UP THE STAIRS, EVERYONE FALL BACK.”
“You heard the captain. MOVE IT!”
The handful of boarders needed no encouragement and were fighting each other to get through the door, the bodyguard exchange nervous looks but held firm, they had given oaths to protect the captain and none wanted to be the first to be named coward. The captains shout had been heard and three more of the crew ran around the corner of the corridor aft, coming from another part of the crew deck. The last one was suddenly hit by a blur of movement and went down, an imperial crewman tearing out his throat in a spray of black in the dim light. The other two didn’t even slow down.
Another ghoul came round the corner and started to run toward them, every bodyguard fired and though they only held pistols the ghoul was hit by a score of laser blasts and collapsed half way down the corridor. “GO, GO!” The captain shouted and started running at the same time and was through the door before his shout had faded, his guards needed no encouragement and piled through behind him. The senior bodyguard paused by the door and slammed it shut as the last man made it through then swore as he saw it had no lock, stepping back he levelled his pistol and emptied the charge into the door frame, melting and warping the metal door and jamming it shut. At least for a while. Then the stairs rang under his boots as he took them three at a time heading up.
Before he had even reached the third floor he heard the door ring with a heavy blow and fear gave him wings.
Above in the passenger dining room the remaining boarders had gathered and the captain ran into them as he left the stairs, he started to curse them for fools then he saw the look on their faces and turned to see what it was they were staring at.
Through the tall glass windows he stared in shock as Poseidon’s Herald moved away, the flare of its plasma drive gleaming on the glass, riggers aloft setting partial sails and its fore and aft lasers throwing bolts of blue white light into the void as a merchant ship came out of nowhere, its bow filling the window as it closed.
#
The Herald came about slowly but surely, her plasma drive was designed to allow her to move to and from a dock but it took time to build up speed and she had been stationary. Laser bolts continued to leap from the aft citadel as the lasers turned to keep firing at the frigate, new firing hatches were opened as the guns were run around there rails and turned on their mounts. The riggers still aboard had climbed aloft as soon as the bosun had shouted and they were pulling loose the lowest, narrowest sails, partial sails they called it, enough to give the ship speed for battle but not enough to drag in between the stars without a course set.
Then the entire stern was engulfed in light as the huge plasma cannon fired, its ball of intense fire visibly moving across the void to strike the bow of the merchant that was now close enough to be a certain target. Masts exploded like matchsticks and every sail on the small ship melted as the ball of fire engulfed the forward citadel and melted the unamoured hull to slag, dozens on deck were vaporised and the merchant, now out of control swept past the Herald it had been trying to ram and instead smashed into the tall stern windows of the leviathan, shattering the glass windows and pushing the burning bow into the halls beyond.
Figures on the merchants deck far enough back to have escaped the plasma hit jumped, not for safety but toward the Herald, all but one missed and were left drifting in the void but the last caught one of the walkways on an amidships mast and grabbed hold. The closet rigger screamed and tried to climb to safety but slipped and ended up clinging to a sail rope and dangling above the darkness.
On the deck one of the crew took up a laser pistol and fired at the figure climbing along the walkway toward the helpless rigger. He fired and swore then fired again. Another man joined him and both fired. The bosun reached them and called them fools for missing then paused as he watched the bright green shirt they were shooting at catch fire. The figure didn’t even slow! The bosun looked into the closest weapons chest and swore as he saw it was empty then he ran to the next and then the third. With an oath he bent over and stood again cradling a boarding laser in his big calloused hands.
Taking careful aim he fired and fired again, a scatter of laser shots scorched the mast but most struck the figure that went up in flames like a torch then fell away from the mast and began to drift away in the darkness. Without having made a sound, no shout, no scream, the figure had been silent during the entire attack.
Long forgotten religion bought ancient prayers to the bosuns lips before he spun his head to look for the frigate that still remained a threat. It was some distance off and clearly in trouble, several masts were now gone and it was reduced to the speed of its plasma drives but it was coming about to bring it’s prow to bear while the riggers now had the Heralds sails half unfurled and she was picking up speed steadily.
“BOSUN. THE CAPTN BE THERE.” One of the riggers was shouting and pointed, the Herald has turned as it gained speed and was now above and alongside the Leviathan, the captains black coat was plain to see as he led a mixed party of boarders and his guards onto the main deck where they joined the small group of riggers standing there.
The captain was shouting but he was too far away to hear, then he was pointing, toward the Leviathans bow, pointing at something, giving an order. But what!
#
Captain Morgan Thale, known by many as Fellheart, had known fear before but this was something new to him for there was terror in his heart this day.
The Leviathan was infested with void ghouls, half his boarders were dead or lost and his ship was moving away from him as it fought two enemy ships.
One of which was racing toward the Leviathans stern. Then the merchant had been engulfed in fire as the plasma round struck and the flame wreathed wreck came straight at the windows.
Someone screamed “RUN!” and they did, smashing aside the furniture as they raced across the dining hall toward the door forward and the deck beyond. They reached the door and crashed into each other as they all tried to push through at the same time, then the tall panels of glass shattered behind them and the heat of the hottest desert washed across them as the burning merchant came through the windows and into the imperial ship.
They were through the door and running to the moss covered deck though not a man amongst them could ever remember how they all made it through the door so quickly. The senior rigger and his people were there, they had not heard the fighting below but had seen the battle begin in space and now stared as their captain ran toward them with the fires of several hells licking at the doorway he had just come through.
“Capen, the Herald, she be leavin us. We be ABANDONED!”
“BE SILENT MAN, she’s not abandoning us, she’s fighting out there and needed to move.” The captain looked forward and aft. The doorway aft was a mass of flames but it wasn’t the only doorway, there was another he hadn’t noticed before, on the far side of the passenger deck. He looked forward across the cast filed of moss and saw a pair of wide spread doors leading into the forward citadel. But did they have time to search for another hatch and for the Herald to find that hatch.
His ship couldn’t come close enough to pick them up from the amidships deck because of the forest of masts around the imperial ship, the chance of getting caught or losing one of their masts was too high.
Unless.
The captains eyes stared as his mind struggled to think clearly with his heart pounding in his chest. The imperial ships masts stopped the herald from coming close but forward there was something odd, he struggled to think then it struck him. The shattered side masts forward, the Herald could come close enough to throw over a rope and pick them up where the Leviathans masts were broken away. He looked up into the darkness where the herald was loving past, her sails half open and still gaining speed. Standing on the mid deck he could see the heavyset frame and bald head of the bosun and he shouted then pointed at the broken masts.
He shouted again and kept pointed then the Herald was past and moving forward till two of its flank sails became mist and the top quarter of a mast turned to splinters and a half burned stump. The rigger that had been there gone in an instant With sails lost on one flank the ship immediately turned that way, riggers scrambling to set more sail on the damaged side and cut sail on the other, the Herald vanished from sight beneath the Imperial hull as more lasers came from the distant frigate seeking her end.
“Captain, movement, up there.” One of the bodyguards was pointing at the balcony above them as a figure appeared then vanished again. Then the figure reappeared and shouted down at them not to shoot.
“Captain, I’m trapped up here, the stairs are on fire!” Lieutenant Cale had recovered and staggered to the stairs only to fall as the whole citadel shock.
By the time he had stood again and reached the stairs flames were coming up to meet him and he jumped backwards to avoid the heat. The only way out now was the balcony and he had ran out and looked down to see the captain and some of the crew suddenly point pistols and a few remaining boarding lasers toward him.
“Cale, can you get down here?”. The officer looked around frantically, no rope anywhere that he could see nor anything that would serve as a rope, he ran back into the citadel and looked into the store room being careful this time, his sword in one and his pistol in the other. No rope. The navigators quarters were equally useless as was the captain’s cabin. Nothing there but rich decorations and walls hung with some sort of silk hangings.
Below on the deck the captain watched the lieutenant vanish from sight then turned to look for the Herald, it was out of sight but the feeling that they were running out of time filled him. Finally he could wait no more and pointed forward to the railing overlooking the shattered masts. “All of you, over there. NOW!” The crew needed no second order and set off at a run but his bodyguard remained by his side.
The captain began to run himself then slowed and looked back as he heard a yell. A tangled length of bright silk, wall hangings by the look of them, came over the balcony and hung half way down the citadel wall then the lieutenant came over the balcony rail and half climbed half slide down the cloth. Above him the balcony exploded into flame and he reached the bottom of the makeshift rope without slowing, he fell two floors and smashed into the deck with a scream.
“You two, go get im.” The senior bodyguard gave the order without checking with the captain and two of the guards ran back across the moss then jumped down to the deck. They quickly returned holding the groaning Cale between them and as soon as the three reached them the captained turned and led them across the deck at the run.
Ahead of them the rest of the crew stood by the rail, one then several more pointing behind them and the running men risked a look behind them, the other door was open and black clad figures were pouring out, a score at least.
Then a powerful laser beam swept across the deck and burned the first few to ash. The sun was blocked out and a cold shadow covered them as the herald slowed to a halt so close alongside that her flanking masts could be touched by a tall man. Riggers on those masts threw ropes across and the senior rigger and his men were up in the air and then safe on the walkways in an instant, they then turned to pull the remaining crew aboard and the last to leave the deck was the captains senior bodyguard who jumped into the rigging without bothering with the ropes as half a hundred ghouls made it through the laser fire and raced across the moss to reach him.
On the deck the bosun bellowed his orders and the Herald backed away from the deck, every crew man that was available stood on the deck with a laser in hand ready for any ghouls that jumped across but none did. Every rigger was aloft and as soon as the captain was back on the deck they had every sail fully open and the Herald began to race across the system.
Once they were safely distant the captain order the sails half furled to allow the navigator time to make his plot then the sails were opened once more and with a great circle of transparent white around her hull Poseidon’s Herald raced for the stars and home.
On board the ship the few wounded were treated and the survivors counted their blessings and told wild tales of battles in dimly lit corridors. They were relieved to be alive and safe and not a man amongst them thought to wonder what had happened to the old man who had told them about the Leviathan, the old man they had press ganged and who had served with the crew on the deck for the trip out here. The old man who had vanished without trace.
#
The tavern was like a hundred others on free ports across the stars. A few old lights and a Smokey fire cast flickering shadows on the brick walls dotted with old plaster, and on the varied customers who came there to drink. One table on the far side of the room was hidden within a crowd of men who clustered close around the two men seated there, the crew of a merchant ship well known as a smuggler, which was, even now, docked above the free port.
At the table sat their captain and a weathered looking man. The sailor was old, past forty at the least, maybe even as old as fifty, skin like old leather, his bald pate smooth as a dome and his beard more white that grey with a bare few hairs left to mark the black of his youth. A foaming tankard was pushed into the old man’s hands and he drank it in two gulps then was passed another with more waiting for him besides.
The captain leaned forward, his burgundy jacket rich with decorations.
“Tell me old man, what did you see?”
The old sailor finished the tankard he held and slammed in down on the rough wooden table then looked the captain in the eye.
“I saw her, with my own eyes I saw her, the lost ship, the treasure ship.”
The end of this tale, or perhaps simply the beginning of another.
By Jim King
Part One
The old man lifted the overflowing tankard to his lips and quaffed deeply, the amber fluid running down the weathered skin of his cheeks and dripping through his grey shot beard. The handful of lights overhead glistened on the droplets as they fell.
The old tavern was wide and low ceilinged, a handful of solar lamps mostly above the bar and round the walls but a few of the tables such as the one the old man sat at were well lit. Two men sat at the round wooden table, the old sailor and a man whose face was in darkness beneath the shadows of his wide brimmed hat, a fine black velvet coat, dark blue sash and a pair of ornate laser pistols marked this man as someone wealthy, or powerful.
Captain people had named him when he entered, pirate they called him where he could not hear the word spoken.
The table was surrounded by a crowd of common sailors, clothed in ever colour, fine shirts or tattered tunics, dark skinned of pale as the dead, but every one of them was well armed and they clustered close around the table, all save the few who stood by the tall, cadaverous figure who stood behind his master. Not a man of the crew wanted to stand too close to that fell scarecrow.
The old sailor finished and slammed the tankard down, where it stood, defeated, beside the three tankards he had already drained. No sooner had his fingers released the empty one when yet another tankard, filled to the brim and with foam still falling down its pewter sides, was pushed into his grasp.
“Ah thank ye lads, an old sailor builds up a powerful thirst on a voyage like that last one.”
The sailor was old, past forty at the least, maybe even as old as fifty, skin like old leather, his bald pate smooth as a dome and his beard more white that grey with a bare few hairs left to mark the black of his youth. In clothing he wore much the same as those who clustered around the table, homespun tunic much patched and faded, canvas trews and boots of leather now cracked with age.
“What did you see?” The voice cut across the muttering with the authority of a ship’s captain and the mob fell silent, the old sailor paused then finished his latest tankard before slamming it to the table with a belch that spread his ale flavoured breath across the faces of the men who leaned close to hear every word.
“I saw her, with my own eyes I saw her, the lost ship, the treasure ship. As real as the lot of ya standing before me. She was floatin in the void, crippled. Masts lost. Not a sight o the crew ta be seen but she was there right enough. Four runs, an imperial ship fa sure. We passed her by, couldn’t stop but I saw her right as day. I was night watch on the balcony, we was running hard an fast, the captain said it was a short cut, an empty system I never heard of afore. So there I was with the captain’s binocs and naught but a few riggers aloft. I was lookin at the world and caught a glimpse of her, me old captain, he had a good pair of binocs, I could make out the name on the hull, it was the Leviathan.”
As the old sailor spoke the name every man around him drew a deep breath and as one looked at their captain who sat at the table across from the old man. A babble of voices began, questions asked in hushed voices that quickly rose in volume till those across the room began to pay attention.
“Silence, be quiet the lot of you.” The Captain’s voice was no shout but it cut across the babble and stilled every question. “Where was this old man, what system?” The man paused and looked at the five empty tankards then looked around him as if expecting another. “Name the system old man and I’ll buy you enough to drown yourself in, what was the name of the system.”
The old man perked up at the promise of endless beer. “Salaamese, that’s how it was marked on my captain’s chart, Salaamese.”
The Captain leaned back and glanced behind him to the tall, thin man who stood behind him, elderly and far better dressed than the common sailors, a thin face and pale eyes behind ornate spectacles. “Salaamese, do you know it?”
The navigator, for such he was, thought for a few seconds then nodded, “it’s a long run captain, nearly two weeks, and it’s one of the empty worlds in the veil cluster. One world with breathable air but no free ports or air asteroids, not inhabited as far as the records say”.
The Captain nodded, his wide brimmed hat moving the shadows across his face to reveal his grey shot beard and the cruel scar that marked the left side of his face. “Good enough, now keep you damn mouths shut and back to the ship quick as you can, bosun, check the stores and have the riggers ready to get aloft, I want to sail within the hour.” A cheer started but was quickly silenced and the gathered crew fell over themselves as they rushed to the door, other customers who had tried to overhear what was being said jumped back at the rush and a few pints were spilled but before anyone could argue the sailors were gone. Only the captain, the navigator, the various bodyguards and the old sailor remained.
The Captain stood and waved his hands down his sides, to rub away any wrinkles on his black fine coat caused by sitting; he leaned toward the senior of his guards and nodded at the old sailor. “I don’t want him talking to anyone else; he comes with us, but quietly, no fuss.” The tall, well muscled man nodded then grinned, the scar across his face made the grin lopsided. This wasn’t the first time he had done this sort of thing.
The Captain looked around, the tavern was busy but the locals were keeping their distance, this system was no stranger to smugglers but a pirate captain, a full blown frigate with the dark reputation this one carried, that was something rare. Something to be feared.
The Captain started toward the door, men stepped aside and not just from fear of the captains bodyguard, those burly killers who flanked him as he walked, there was something chill about this man with his face hidden beneath that wide black hat, as if death walked among them.
Just before the door the Captain paused and thrust out his arm, grabbing hold of one of the tavern doxies and pulling her against his chest, she shrieked then laughed as she saw who it was that had pulled her. Her laughter stopped as she looked into the darkness beneath the hat then she froze as she felt his fingers push into hers, something was placed into the palm of her hand, a disc, metal by its weight, a coin and a sizable one at that.
She glanced down then looked back at the shadow beneath the hat. Her hand sliding the coin beneath her apron where it would be hidden from sight.
The captain released her and she stepped away from him, suddenly frightened and not knowing why.
The Captain strode past the girl and reached the door then paused and looked back into the room, the girl had served him well and she would see no more than a penny or two of the shillings he had paid the tavern owner. She was young, fresh, not worn down by the life of a tavern whore, a gold crown wasn’t enough to buy her a better life but it would certainly be a good start.
The Captain had arrived a few hours ago and hired the girl then spent an hour with her in one of the grubby rooms upstairs, it had been when he joined his crew for a drink afterwards that the old sailor had approached him asking for coin to wet his whistle and the offer of a story in return for ale.
Two of the Captain’s bodyguards were still with the old sailor, the crack of the club wasn’t heard above the noise of the tavern and the few who noted them leave saw no more than shipmates helping an old sailor who was deep in his cups.
#
The Captain and his party reached the docks after a few minutes walking the narrow streets of this free port, buildings of stone, brick, ancestor forged metal and plastic or even wood crowed together to make the most of the limited space, the towns boundaries set long in the past by the need to leave as much space as possible for the Venusian moss that produced the air the inhabitants needed.
More than a few men and even a handful of women looked at the well dressed captain and navigator with greedy eyes but the bodyguard were big men, and alert, with ready hands on pistol or blade, so the footpads remained in the shadows and looked for easier prey.
The dock was a series of jetties reaching out into space and to someone standing in the town they seemed to be directly overhead with the ships hanging above the town nose down, their masts reaching out like the bare branches of an old earth tree in winter. Curved ramps from the edge of the town allowed the small group to walk around in a quarter circle until they were walking the dock with the town behind them and below them.
The Captain and his small party picked the closest dock up toward the ship that waited there. Not the largest ship docked here but by far the most dangerous compared to the merchant ships and corvettes that normally berthed here. The fat bellied merchants looking slow and clumsy beside the lean dangerous shape of the frigate
In front of them was their ship, like a vast dumb bell hanging in space, the forward section more a cone than a sphere and larger than the middle such that it stood away from the main deck. The central section was a half circle, the upper section a flat deck, long and slim and crowned with the masts that stood out far from the ship, a single deck below that was no more than a few storerooms between the heavy frames that held the many masts. The aft section was twice the size of the forward section but broader and more rounded in the stern. It stood three floors above the deck, two floors below and the balcony on the highest floor gave a good view over the deck and the two upper floors of the forward section. Aside from the flat length of the deck the fore and aft sections had roofs that were curved and not made for walking on. The ship’s steel clad wooden hull was covered with faded dark green paint and the remains of dirty white marked the rails and bases of the masts.
The Captain was barely aboard when he began issuing orders, pull in the gang plank, start the engine and move the ship out from the dock into empty space, crew to their stations. The bosun stood nearby and each order was shouted across the deck as the crew leapt into action.
Captain Thale commanded a full crew but did so himself, only the bosun and a single lieutenant who commanded the boarders. There was no first officer, not other lieutenants. The crew whispered as to why but never where the Captain could hear, a man would get a beating from the bosun or the bodyguards for spreading such rumours but if the captain heard, most of the crew had been on the ship when the captain took the Apella, they had seen death walking the decks. Not a man amongst them wanted to join the ranks of the ghosts that followed their captain around.
Minutes after casting off the ship had turned and was far enough from the port to be clear of the docks, a shout sent the riggers aloft, the youngest and most nimble leading the way to the highest points of the beams that stood out as much as a hundred yards from the hull, the Herald was a three runner, she had three runs of masts, one of six along the main deck and two more each of five masts set to port and starboard on the curve of the amidships hull and angled down so each mast run was an equal distance from the others. It was the lower masts that were reserved for the best of the riggers, a fall from the deck masts would kill a man as he fell with the gravity field of the ship, but a fall from the flank masts, that left a man floating in the void till his air ran out and he died a slow lingering death.
Or worse.
There were tales, stories you heard in the taverns, late at night as the fires burned down, about those sailors who had fallen into the void and how the curse of the darkness turned them into something else, something with many names that forever afterwards hungered for the warmth of the living.
#
Captain Morgan Thale, Fellheart as he was known to those who feared his raids, stood on the balcony of the rear citadel and drew in a breath of freshly replenished air, before the rigours of the journey turned stale and tainted. Were they to stay in the void long enough the air would turn to poison, the Herald was not the biggest of ships and she ran with a large crew, her range was not so good and every voyage must be plotted to replenish the air frequently. At best the Herald could run two weeks, if they engaged in battle no more than a week since the lasers left a stench of fire in the air that filled the lungs and made men cough and choke.
Still all the ship had to do was touch the air bubble of a world or free station and the ships atmosphere would quickly clear and although worlds were wide spread the free stations were everywhere. In the old times they were asteroids, lifeless rocks floating in the void, then they had been seeded with the Venusian moss that grew and spread and produced good clean air. The moss was the devils own job to grow on a ship but those that could manage it were valued for such ships could voyage as far as they had food. Years ago Thale had spoken with a man of great learning who had the ill fortune to be a passenger on a merchant ship taken by the Herald, the man had a ransom so was kept safe and had spoken at length on many things. He had said the moss would only grow on certain types of rock where there was also ice, something about converting minerals and chemicals. The captain had only half listened, the man had talked constantly and little of it made sense.
A tall shape moved in the room behind him and the navigator stepped out onto the balcony.
“My calculations are done Captain, we will have two days at most before the air will be spent, I don’t like running that close.”
“Two days will be enough, there is a world there, is there not?”
“Yes captain, good clean air, still two days is hardly much, if my calculations are even slightly wrong.”
“I have never known you to be wrong old friend, not in all the years we have sailed together and I have no doubts now. If you say it can be done with days to spare then so be it.”
The Captain started to turn back into the cabin then a thought came to him. “It’s not often you doubt yourself.”
“I don’t like this one captain, trouble is gathering, I can feel it.”
Thale grunted, he knew little of the navigators art and while he was no common sailor to call it witchcraft it was still close to magic. “You think we should turn away, seek other prey. A treasure ship, lost months ago, an Imperial ship to take.”
“More vengeance to be had captain?”
Thale shot a harsh look at the navigator, the man’s pale eyes stared back, unblinking behind the strange glasses he wore.
“You think I would risk my ship just for revenge?”
The navigator shook his head no, then he sighed and walked back into the cabin and to the long table littered with his charts and instruments.
“We can set full sails when you want captain, I’ll give the bosun the heading as soon as you are ready to go.”
Captain Thale turned away from the navigator and looked out across the deck at the lines of masts that ran down the deck and fell away to either flank.
‘Poseidon's Herald’ was a fast ship, with every Aetheric sail spread she could run between most worlds in a few days and cover most of the frontier in less than two months though she would need many a stop to do that. Outside of the imperial tax ships there wasn’t a merchant ship ever built that could outrun her and few enough ships of the imperial fleet that could catch her.
She lived to race between the stars not to dawdle in a single system.
“Give the bosun the heading and tell him to go to full speed as soon as the sails are out. Put this rock behind us and the stars before us.” The captain seemed to say something else but if the words left his lips they were too quiet to be heard then he strode to the stairs and down to the deck below and to the privacy of his cabin, his boots loud on the polished wooden planks and lost in his thoughts.
#
On the deck the bosun put the brass cup of the speaking tube back onto its hook and turned to shout at the riggers who had been waiting for his orders and leapt to obey. With his orders given the man stood and looked to the masts to see his orders followed.
The sails were half spread now, ghostly wings on both sides of each mast, rippling as they began to catch the invisible winds of the Aether, the higher sails were larger and spread wider so took longer to run out.
Aetheric sails, somehow caught the winds that blew between the stars carrying a ship between worlds at speeds unimaginable under the common plasma drives used for close manoeuvres or by skiffs and launches. No man or woman alive knew what the Aetheric winds were or how they came to have flows and currents but since they never changed centuries old charts were still in use though none but the navigators held the knowledge of their use.
The last sails were pulled tight and billowed out, pushing the ship forward faster and faster as the stars began to blur and turn into smears across the void which turned from black to grey.
‘Poseidon’s Herald was returning to its home in the darkness.
Above and to both sides the pale glimmer of the Aetheric sails unfurled, so thin you could just see the stars through them yet so strong you could not cut them with a good steel blade. Another marvel of the ancients, there were few now who understood the sails but factories still existed where they could be made and only the worst of fools would risk a sail maker with death. The ransom for such a man was huge and every hand would be turned against such a barbarian.
Thale had seen a sale maker once, in the service of the Empire, a small fleet escorted the man and his family for protection as he was taken to work at a recently repaired factory and an entire platoon of the Imperial army had acted as bodyguards. But that had been years ago, back before, before he had lost his old ship and his old life.
#
For a ship the size of Herald and with such a large crew two weeks between stops was a long run and the air had fouled after the first week. The smell came first, unwashed bodies and unwashed clothing, but the crew quickly became used to that. Next came the dank fog that started to form around the tips of the masts and walkways then slowly spread down toward the ship. Headaches came next, leaving every man grumpy and quick to anger.
Concentration became difficult and men forced themselves to focus on the task at hand. The bosun and his mates worked hard to prevent accidents as tired men forgot all but the simplest tasks.
By mid way through the second week the crew were beginning to mutter and moan as any crew does but the ready presence of the bosun, the ship’s officers and the captains guards kept men in their places, that and the dreams of treasure beyond counting. The tax of an entire world stored in the hold of a wrecked ship, there for the taking.
The ship at least had plenty of food and water, something that was noted in the oldest histories as having been the problem on many a voyage upon the long forgotten waters of the world that had birthed their great grandfathers. In those long ago times before the strange ship, crewed by men just like them and yet so different, had crashed and the wisest of men and women had spent years learning its secrets. Now there were few alive who had even seen the old world, the place far distant and all but a legend. Now it was air that determined how far a ship could travel not fresh food or drinking water.
The crew counted the days and watched the navigator each day walk out onto the balcony to make his readings, it was with great relief that that they saw him take his measurements on what should be the final day of the voyage, they stood upon the deck or a few hung in the rigging and watched as he took great care of his calculations then nodded once and called for the captain. The navigator’s voice was not loud but the crew were silent as they waited and a cheer ran across the deck.
The captain had been waiting in the officers mess on the deck below and hurried up the narrow stair to the highest room on the ship, by tradition the navigators cabin was at the back of this floor and the forward section open and filled with his instruments and charts, in battle the captain would command from the balcony using voice tubes to give orders to the crew below but for the rest of the trip the balcony was seldom used.
#
The navigator stood beside the vast dark oak table that filled the centre of the room and peered closely at his instruments, another technology painstakingly leaned from the dead ancestors who had fallen to the old world, more art than science, a navigator trained his apprentice or son to the job and carefully hoarded the instruments that measured a ships journey through the void, few craftsmen could make such complex devices and the oldest ones were treasures beyond counting.
“Coming up now captain” he said then coughed, the air was rank and his head pounded as much as his joints ached. He made a tiny adjustment of one dial then a second, “ten seconds from my mark. MARK!”
The captain stepped across the cabin to the open door and onto the balcony, his watch in his hand, the ships bosun stood ready beside him, his head lifted and his eyes already focused on the riggers aloft. The second hand ticked and ticked again.
“Now!”
The bosun bellowed, his leather throated voice hoarse from a lifetime of shouting across the deck. “LOOSE ALL SAILS”! The riggers quickly obeyed, slip knots were released and the huge panels of sails flapped like wings trying to escape from the masts. Ropes whipped back and forth and the riggers ducked and held to the masts and walkways with a grip of iron, it was that or be knocked free to face a fall to their deaths, or an even worse fate.
With the sails set lose to flap they spilled the Aether winds and the ship slowed, the stars became pin points of light instead of blurs across the sky, ahead of them they could see the blue and green ball of a life bearing world, still distant and so small it could be covered with the tip of a thumb but it promised fresh air and maybe food or water.
But there was something else, something that bought cheers from the deck and the rigging where every crewman who leaned forward for a better look.
Far ahead and floating in the void was a ship, no more than a finger in length at this distance but to sharp eyes the four runs of sails and ornate citadels could be seen. An Imperial ship, a four run with lines of masts on the deck, port, starboard and below. Five times the length of the Herald and with cargo holds large enough to carry the tax of an entire world.
A few of the riggers with young, sharp eyes were calling descriptions. She was damaged, three forward masts to port were gone and two forward below were broken and hanging lose. She must have hit something and been calmed but she looked intact. Men shouted to each other, boasting of how they would spend their share of the booty.
The Herald fired up her plasma drives and with the rumble felt through the decks she got underway, closing the distance steadily.
The captain stood on the balcony using a pair of fine old binocs to examine the prize, her hull looked intact, whatever she had hit must have struck the masts alone, aft her masts were intact with sails furled away neatly. Her crew must have survived the crash enough to tidy away the sails and rigging, but what happened to them, looking at the masts and walkways the captain could see no sign of the fog that marked foul air but there wasn’t a man or boy in sight. Not a living thing moved aboard the massive ship.
Then the Herald’s course bought it above the line of the vast ship’s deck and the captain gasped as he saw the dark green that marked the presence of Venusian moss, the entire upper deck was carpeted with the life giving stuff. No wonder the air looked clean, this ship created its own air.
Suddenly the captains mind was busy with new numbers, the value of unseen treasure forgotten as he tried to calculate the value of the ship before him.
The ship was big, above and below it ran eight masts, port and starboard only six, they would need to trim the intact masts to match the missing ones or the ship would turn constantly and be beyond navigation and with so many masts and sails out of action it would be slow.
Still with a deck of moss, air was no problem and he had plenty of food for a few months, did he have enough crew, could his riggers run so many sails at once, the Imperial ship would have run a crew twice his own and many of his crew were to fight not sail. Could he take the ship itself?
By the ancient gods and forgotten oceans he would try!
Part Two
The stern of the imperial ship loomed above them like a cliff, the captain had given orders to the helmsman to bring the Neptune’s Herald close off her stern and now the bow of the Herald was no more than fifty yards from the vast stern of its prize. The air envelopes of the two ships had met a minute before and now the air aboard the herald was clean and fresh, the fog gone as if it had never been; men drew deep breaths of the clean air and gazed in wonder at the sight before them.
The Leviathan ran to ten floors in its stern citadel, perhaps eleven if you counted the bilges, the lower six set with more normal windows but the upper four were set with shared windows that ran from the floor of one to the ceiling of the next. The crew could clearly see that the upper floor of each pair was built like a balcony behind the vast windows. Each window held more glass than every window on the herald together and the two windows stood as tall as the heralds bow. The frames and surrounds were ornate, carved into figures of men and beasts, each corner was formed of fish tailed women curved around the glass.
The stern windows alone were worth the ransom of a wealthy merchant or the cargo of a small prize and there was not a man in the crew who gazed upon such wealth who did not feel greed stirring in their hearts.
Set to the port of the lower large window was a hatch, the design standard on ships for many centuries, a wheel to turn and lock bolts to either side. If it were unlocked it would give easy entry into the ship, safer to boot, for reaching the Leviathans deck would mean crossing the forest of masts and the Herald carried no small craft. Still if the hatch was locked they could close where the side masts were smashed and maybe get close enough to climb across by ropes or the boarding ramp.
A pair of riggers were picked by lot and with the promise of first pick of the loot they tied thin ropes around their waists and jumped the distance across to the other ship. One tumbled and hit the hull sideways then bounced away and was hauled back to the mocking laughter of his fellows, the other jumped true and landed beside the hatch, catching hold of the bars set there for just that purpose. This young rigger was greeted with cheers and he quickly tied himself to the hatch and set to work hauling across a heavier rope.
Yard by yard and with men standing ready with boat hoots to fend off a crash the Herald was hauled closer until it was no more than twenty yards from the hatch, woven balls of rope were slung out in case the hulls bumped and other riggers swung across to make the two ships fast.
Then as every man jack of them stood with baited breath the hatch was tried, the wheel was stubborn and stuck before turning freely and the clunk of the locks opening sent yet another cheer across the deck.
Many amongst them surged forward before the Captain’s shout stopped them where they stood.
“As you were fools, we’ll treat this like any other boarding in case there are survivors amongst the crew. Boarders arm and assemble on the fore deck, gunners stand to the forward citadel and ready the lasers, riggers be ready for action, Leave the boarding ramp stowed, we’ll go across on ropes.”
The bosun appeared at the captains shoulder. “MOVE IT YA DOGS!” The crew sprang into action, they had done this many a time before but never for so rich a promised prize. The boarding crew opened chests stored on the deck and passed around gambesons, helmets and weapons. The tough gambesons were made of thickly quilted canvas, the pockets filled with chemical treated wool that boiled under the kiss of a laser providing a second or two of protection and the thick garments were tough enough to take a few blows from blade or club. The helmets were of good steel and well polished, everyone knew that if you polished steel to gleam like a mirror it would oft times turn a laser aside.
For weapons they carried blades long and short, a few laser pistols but most carried bulky short barrelled boarding lasers able to fire a burst of shots as many as a score of times. In the hands of a good shot a boarding laser could sweep clear a swath of rigging or deck in a single shot. The power packs were old or a more recent build of lesser quality and the buzz of a laser without power was a sound all feared so every man carried at least one blade as well.
Now armed and ready the first few boarders swarmed across the ropes and waited at the hatch till the lieutenant joined them and waved the first pair through the hatch and into the darkness beyond.
The pair stepped into a small room, no more than s closet and found a door that led into the huge hall beyond, light from the stars and sun streamed through the tall windows and fell upon the richly decorated chairs and tables that filled the hall that made the stern of this deck, the curved wall of glass rising before the boarders and giving them a good view of the Herald as she hung in the void outside. The floor above was set back and the balcony was a good dozen yards back from the glass giving the impression the hall or perhaps dining room was much taller.
More boarders came crowding through and began to spread throughout the room. A stair was found leading up to the deck above and doors leading forward on this level. The lieutenant came in and took in the room with a glance then sent his boarders to spread out and check beyond the doors and up the stairs. Then he looked down and idly ran a finger across the richly carved back of the chair beside him, his touch leaving a clean line in the thick dust, no one had been here for many a day.
The Leviathan was close enough to the sun here that its solar batteries were kept fully charged and the lights in this room worked well so it was brightly lit even away from the window though this one dining room was larger than the entire officer’s deck on the Herald.
The captain came aboard, his bodyguards covering the room carefully before he stepped though the hatch and closet and entered the dining room. Fellheart stopped and took a pose, his right hand resting on the holstered pistol at his right hip, his left hand resting on the ornate hilt of the long blade at his left hip, a third pistol tucked through his sash and a short blade in his right boot top of his gleaming black leather knee boots. He looked around the room, well decorated and richly appointed, for passengers with money and status. A shout came from the stairs. “Captn, be quarters up here, the whole deck be cabins, every one of em lookin like the rooms in a rich man’s brothel.”
The captain took another look around the room noting the dust and the signs that no living person had used the room for a long time. “Lieutenant Cale, spread out the boarders, sweep up through the officers rooms above and check the navigators chambers, no looting yet but tell the men to be alert, the crew haven’t been here for many a week but until I know for sure what happened to them we stay alert. I’ll take my guards and go forward to check the deck. Where’s Symonds?” The captain looked around and spotted the senior rigger standing with a few of his men by the door they had come in from.
“Symonds, with me, let’s have a look at the rigging, I want to see what state she’s in.”
The chief rigger nodded then thought for a second. “Ya thinking ta get her moving capen, she be a big job for just my lot.”
“Let’s see how the rigging is first before I start making plans.”
The chief rigger tugged his forelock and turned to call several of his men to follow him then the group of them fell in behind the captain and his guards. They walked to the front of the dining room, passed a wide door that stood open and led into a well appointed kitchen and to a heavy door that led out onto the main deck. Before them stretched the main deck of the Leviathan, an imperial cargo ship her mid section was wider by far than the narrow waist of the Herald and their ship could have landed on the vast expanse of deck were they able to ship the masts and do such a strange thing.
In front of them was a short wall of grey stone running the width of the deck and beyond a field of the Venusian moss, a path lined and paved with the same stone ran the length of the deck and finished at an open area before the bow citadel. The closest mast was set on the deck before them and beyond the other topside masks reached skyward like branchless trees.
“Thar be odd capen.” The chief rigger had been peering up at the closest mast. “Them sails and riggin be squared away real neat an tidy, like she was anchored.” The captain tilted his head upwards, his eyes weren’t the equal of the riggers, coming from a well off family he had learned to read at a young age and a life of peering at charts and books beneath uncertain light had robbed him of the sharp eyes of his youth.
“Anchored, not furled after the crash?”
“Not as I see it capen, we furl sails mid voyage we fold em and tie em down so we can pull the ties an get em out quick. We hit something an ya order sails furled that what I order. These be rolled and tight, like she was goin ta be anchored somewhere fa a while. Take a couple o hours to get up sail with em like that.”
The captain looked around and his eye fell on the world some distance off. “Why anchor here, what bought them to this place? What were they doing?”
“Beg pardon capen, what be that?” The captain realised he had been speaking his thoughts aloud. “Nothing, just thinking. Check the side masts, see if they’re the same.”
The chief rigger tugged his forelock and turned to order his people to the rails either side, ladders led down around the hull to allow the riggers to access the side masts but the riggers stood by the rails and looked out to see the sails rolled and tightly tied in the same way as the upper masts had been.
The captain turned back toward the aft citadel and his guards followed, with the moss spread across the deck the only way into the cargo holds would be through the huge side hatches and through the crew quarters in the lower levels.
#
Lieutenant Cale stood on the polished wooden floor and looked around the room, much larger than the navigators room on Neptune’s Herald and with what looked like store rooms on one side and the navigators quarters on the other, the balcony forward was also wider and deeper, you could have stood fifty men on the balcony with ease. The captain’s cabin and day room were aft and sat on the balcony that reached out over the officer’s dining room on the floor below. The lieutenant was an officer, his father and grandfather had been officers, his grandfather had captained a corvette. But never in his life had he seen such luxury and the thought of serving as an officer on such a ship was something beyond his dreams.
Idly he picked up one of the complex tools that sat covered in dust on the table, it had the look of the devices the navigator used each day on the herald and while he could only guess at its worth he knew how carefully the navigator treated his devices, to leave them gathering dust on the table like this was strange, as if the Leviathans’ navigator had left in a hurry or didn’t care.
The sound of course laughter attracted his attention and he carefully placed the item back on the table then turned in time to see two of the boarders walk out of the captain’s cabin, one held a bulging sack of rich cloth and the other was trying to grab it.
“You heard the captains orders?” It was a question but the way the lieutenant spoke made any answer but yes a risk. “Aye sir, we, erm, we just be piling this up fa later sir.” The two men were bigger and older than the officer but both had followed him onto the decks of another ship several times before and neither was eager to risk his anger, the lieutenant had rare skill with a long blade.
” Leave in on the table and get on with the search.” The bag was dropped with haste and both men almost ran to the stairs down to the officer’s quarters below. The bag clunked when it hit the solid wood and then fell sideways with a ring unique to gold.
The lieutenant grunted and turned back to his examination of the room, cursed fools, nothing started a fight faster than the rumour that some men were holding back when it came to sharing the loot. With a year’s tax from an entire world in the holds even the share a common sailor would get would be far more than a single bag of coins. Foolish.
Then he heard a sound, movement, a step on the wooden floor and he turned ready to bark an order at the men who should have gone below. What he saw stilled his voice and his hand flashed to the hilt of his blade.
#
The boarders had cleared the upper citadel and were now below on the crew decks, all save a pair with the lieutenant on the top floor. The captain looked around then stepped through the door that led to a side room and down the stairs to the crew quarters The crew decks were darker that the passenger and officer decks, there were barely a third as many lights here and they were well spread leaving deep shadows that the captain strode through as he passed door after door, the crew shared tightly packed cabins on both sides of the corridors and had a mess aft but that wasn’t where the captain was going.
He was heading forward to the thick bulkhead between the citadel and the cargo holds. A heavy door led through the bulkhead and onto a balcony of steel mesh and bars set high above the last of three cargo holds that made up the amidships of the Leviathan, the hold was dark and what little light streamed through the door barely touched the tops of crates and boxes that filled the bottom half of the hold below the captain. Even so there was far more in this one hold than the Herald could possibly carry and if the other two holds were as full they would leave a great deal of valuable loot behind them. In the captains mind the thought of being able to take the entire ship surfaced again when he heard a sound, metal clanging on metal.
Odd, it seemed to have come from below him, on the floor of the cargo hold. He turned to his closest bodyguard to ask had that man heard anything when the man’s gambeson erupted in white smoke and the man cursed and threw himself backwards. The guard on the other side yanked the captain backwards with one hand while drawing a pistol from his belt with the other.
“AMBUSH.”
#
“SHIP AHOY, PORT AN LOW SHE BE!” The shout came from one of the riggers on watch and he was pointed down and to the side. The bosun walked quickly to the rail and peered over the side, the ship was distant, small enough that the top of his thumb could hide it but it was a ship and it was coming closer.
“SHIP AHOY, BEHIND THE FIRST UN.” The bosun didn’t have the eyes to see detail at this distance so he shouted up to the riggers. “What be ye seein lads. Talk ta me.” The same rigger shouted back. “Two ships, the nearest be a three run ship, the other be two runs high an low, both under quarter sail.
The further one looks ta be a fat bellied merchant. The closer be a frigate by its look, five masts atop and four on the sides. Wait. Curse me, that be the Bonny Blue, captain McHowards ship.”
“You sure, I heard tell she was lost near two years ago?”
“Aye it be her right enough, she took a bad hit in battle ten year ago and weakened her fore deck, she had ta shorten her leading masts ta half size or rip open her hull. I can see em plain as day. It be the Bonny right enough.”
The bosun cursed and shouted to the riggers still hanging on the ropes by the Leviathans’ hatch. “You lad, git inside an warn the captain we be havin company.” Another pirate captain and with a bulky merchant in tow to fill with wealth from the wreck, enough for everyone or a battle to claim it all, that was for the captain to decide, one captain anyway,
The rigger vanished through the hatch while the bosun turned back to look at the tiny ships, they were closing steadily, quarter sail was faster than a plasma drive but not so fast they couldn’t manoeuvre, they would be alongside in no more than ten minutes. Then he noticed something odd about the forward citadel of the leading ship, spots of light where it should be solid hull. “Rigger, the leadin ship, look at her gun ports, what do ya see?”
“SHE BE CLEARED FA ACTION, HER GUNS PORTS BE OPEN AN HER GUNS BE RUN OUT.”
The bosun turned to the crew on deck and bellowed his orders. “TO ARMS YA DOGS, WE BE UNDER ATTACK!”
Part Three
Two men had come out of the store room opposite the navigators cabin though where they had been hidden the lieutenant could not have said for he and his men had checked the room and seen nothing.
The young officer has his sword in hand and was stepping forward to the attack as soon as he saw the long fencing sword in the hand of one. Both the new arrivals wore the ornate uniforms of imperial officers, red banded trousers of deep blue, jackets of the same colour set with gold braid and peaked caps on their heads shadowing their faces, one was an ensign, the other a third lieutenant. It was the lieutenant that held the sword.
The officer from ‘Poseidon's Herald’ bought his sword on guard and with a shout ordered the other two to yield, the only response was that both stepped closer and the more senior lifted his blade ready to strike. The move seemed slow, clumsy, and lieutenant Cale grinned as he swung his sword, the first blow to knock aside the imperials sword and the back stroke to slash across the exposed hip. The blow should have cut bone deep and dropped its victim but instead it was like hitting leather and the imperial barely grunted and staggered but came closer.
Cale stepped back and bought his sword up again, the man could have light armour under his clothes, it certainly felt like hitting armour so he came on guard again and slashed at the imperials flank, above the belt. A clumsy swing to block and Cales sword danced past and slashed the neck above the collar, no armour there but the blow still felt like it hit leather though it sunk as deep as the spine.
Lieutenant Cale yanked his sword free and then his eyes widened with shock and fear, that blow should have killed the imperial but there was no blood and though he could see the glint of white bone at the back of the savage cut the man still came closer. Cale’s legs hit the desk in the middle of the room, in his shock he had forgotten it was there and he was blocked, the table behind, the ensign to one side and the imperial officer that should be dead closing on the other.
#
Pistol in hand the captain made it through the door and back into the corridor where two of his guards were waiting, the other two pushed through behind him and one slammed the door shut and threw the locking bar.
“They can’t get up here, no stair or ladder. They’ll be below, down on the crew decks.” The lower crew decks, where his boarders were spread out searching for loot!
“The stairs, quick as you can.” The captain gave his order but he was at the run down the corridor before he had finished and his guards broke into a sprint to catch up. They ran past the empty crew cabins and reached the door to the stairs, it stood open and the captain went straight through at a run, beyond was the stair case and he took the first flight down two at a time, but before he reached the first landing he heard the clear hiss buzz of a boarding laser firing, then another and then the scream of a mortal wound.
They ran passed the second crew deck which was silent and came to the third where a few of the boarders were running to join those under attack below. The larger group ran down the stairs and pushed through the door into the shadowy corridor on the lowest crew deck and into a battle.
Beside the door one of the crew was grappling with a man in a dark blue or black uniform, the boarder was plunging his knife into the others chest again and again but the black clad man continued to choke the life from the boarder, both hands locked around his throat. The captain came through fast and ran past the fight but the first bodyguard out turned and put his laser pistol against the black capped head and pulled the trigger, a quick buzz and the stench of burnt flesh and hair filled the corridor but the man didn’t fall. With a sickening crack he snapped the boarders neck and stood up turning to face the bodyguards disbelieving stare.
Further down the corridor a pair of boarders stood side by side and fired again and again down the corridor toward the cargo bay, laser pulses flickering in the darkness and flames from the burning clothing of one unmoving body casting dancing shadows along the length of the corridor. The captain slowed himself and turned first to the fight behind him then toward the sight of the two firing again and again at a figure that half ran, half shambled toward them. A figure in a black uniform that took hit after hit as his clothes caught fire and the flame engulfed his face. Without a sound the man dropped dead no more than a few feet from the two who began to fire at another figure that came into sight running toward them, fear open on both their faces.
The captain bought up his laser pistol and put a shot into the back of the head of the man who had just killed one of his crew, he saw the laser hit, saw the hair burn, saw the front of the head explode, saw it still standing. The captain didn’t think, his fear drove his actions and he fired again and again till the head was nothing but a burning stump above the jaw. The figure collapsed and more of the crew came into the corridor from the stairs.
“Captn, these things, they don’t die, what be they.” The fastest of the bodyguards was a younger man, no more than a handful of battles to his name and his voice trembled with the ragged edge of terror after he had fired his laser pistol into the figure by the door, fired and watched the powerful laser pistol do nothing.
The oldest of the bodyguards, a dour man who had served with the captains father and was reputed to have seen such things as to drive a man insane stepped over the headless body and stopped by the one lying just in front of the two gunners. The corridor seemed to be clear so they had stopped firing and both were staggering back to the rest of the group. The bodyguard used his foot to flip the body over and shone a lantern onto its face then grunted as he looked at the shrunken face, the stark bones and eyes like pits, the teeth extended like fangs in the lipless mouth, the lank hair and the signs of rot and decay about the flesh.
“Void lost, captain, we be fightin ghouls.”
#
With the bosun’s shout the crew on deck ran to their places, gunners reached the forward and aft gun decks and began the familiar ritual of powering up the weapons though the forward citadel faced the Leviathan and couldn’t fire. The aft citadel had no such troubles and they opened the hatches and ran out the long barrels of the lasers with all haste.
“Bosun, we cannae fire forward, we be tied ta the big un. We must cut er loose.”
“Not while the captain be over there, ready ya guns an hold. Aft let loose as soon as ye can.” By now the approaching ships were well within range though the Bonny Blue hadn’t fired even though her guns were run out. The aft gunners needed no encouragement and all four lasers fired with seconds of each other. One missed completely, the second left a scar of molten metal across the lower curve of the forward hull. The third struck wide but blew one of the starboard masts into kindling and melted the sails of the mast behind into mist. The forth hit square and touched one of the open gun ports, a gout of fire erupted from the frigates forward citadel as the laser within exploded.
With one mast gone and the sails behind destroyed the frigate swung to the side then slowly began to turn back as it’s helmsman struggled to keep control, the merchant that had been behind it caught up and past it, heading straight for the Herald.
On the main deck the bosun grabbed the binocs left by a watchman who was now manning a gun and bought them up to look at the merchant, what he saw chilled him to his bones and bought a curse to his lips. The deck of the merchant was covered with figures, men, some in black, others in the bright and faded colours of merchants or pirates. Far too many to survive on the air envelop available to that size of ship, there must have been a hundred in sight.
“CUT US LOOSE! CUT THE TEATHERS! HELM FULL ASTERN AND LEFT!”
The rigger still waiting on the rope by the hatch heard the shout and pulled his belt knife to slash at the thick ropes holding the two ships together. The ropes were tough but the knife was good steel and well sharpened, within seconds the first rope was cut and then the second. The rigger jumped and held tight to the ropes that now floated free as the Herald began to back and turn under the thrust of its plasma drive.
The captain was cut off from his ship.
#
Lieutenant Cale was close to panic, he had never faced such a foe, he would stand against any man but what could he do when the man wouldn’t die. He tried to push himself back, away from the two imperials but his thighs were against the table, then panic gave his thoughts focus and he leaned back, throwing himself across the table in a scatter of priceless navigators tools. He twisted and he slid across the well polished wood and managed to get his feet beneath him as he reached the edge, landing in a half crouch then standing quickly. The imperials came round the table after him, one each side and he attacked the one with the sword.
Fear burned in this muscles and he tasted vomit in his mouth but he stepped forward. No finesse this time, he took a two handed grip on his sword and bought the blade down like an axe. The blow struck the neck again but this time didn’t stop at the spine, bone splintered as the backbone broke and the sword glanced off the figures shoulder as it came out through the gapping cut of the first wound. The whole head came away and the figure staggered then dropped as if pole axed. Cale drew a shuddering breath then screamed as hands grabbed his left arm and shoulder and the ensign grappled him and dragged him to the floor, the ensigns hat was knocked aside and Cale stared into the face of a boy, lost to the void and returned as a ghoul. Undead hands reached for his throat, nails like claws slashed his clothing and flesh as he frantically tried to push them aside then the ghoul got a solid hold on his throat and the lieutenant tired to gasp for breath that was no longer there.
Cale tried to batter the undead aside, flailing with both hands but his vision began to blur as he felt the first touch of suffocation. Then his right hand banged against his holstered laser pistol and he frantically pulled it lose, almost dropping it in his haste. He shoved the barrel into the ghouls face and fired again and again until the face and the head were gone and nothing but the foul stench of burnt flesh remained to burn his lungs as he took a shuddering breathe.
He rolled over and doubled up as his guts heaved again and again and he lay helpless on the polished wooden deck throwing up uncontrollably.
#
The captain stared at the face of the imperial crewman and half remembered tavern tales repeated themselves in his imagination. More laser shots came from another corridor and more screaming.
“BACK, UP THE STAIRS, EVERYONE FALL BACK.”
“You heard the captain. MOVE IT!”
The handful of boarders needed no encouragement and were fighting each other to get through the door, the bodyguard exchange nervous looks but held firm, they had given oaths to protect the captain and none wanted to be the first to be named coward. The captains shout had been heard and three more of the crew ran around the corner of the corridor aft, coming from another part of the crew deck. The last one was suddenly hit by a blur of movement and went down, an imperial crewman tearing out his throat in a spray of black in the dim light. The other two didn’t even slow down.
Another ghoul came round the corner and started to run toward them, every bodyguard fired and though they only held pistols the ghoul was hit by a score of laser blasts and collapsed half way down the corridor. “GO, GO!” The captain shouted and started running at the same time and was through the door before his shout had faded, his guards needed no encouragement and piled through behind him. The senior bodyguard paused by the door and slammed it shut as the last man made it through then swore as he saw it had no lock, stepping back he levelled his pistol and emptied the charge into the door frame, melting and warping the metal door and jamming it shut. At least for a while. Then the stairs rang under his boots as he took them three at a time heading up.
Before he had even reached the third floor he heard the door ring with a heavy blow and fear gave him wings.
Above in the passenger dining room the remaining boarders had gathered and the captain ran into them as he left the stairs, he started to curse them for fools then he saw the look on their faces and turned to see what it was they were staring at.
Through the tall glass windows he stared in shock as Poseidon’s Herald moved away, the flare of its plasma drive gleaming on the glass, riggers aloft setting partial sails and its fore and aft lasers throwing bolts of blue white light into the void as a merchant ship came out of nowhere, its bow filling the window as it closed.
#
The Herald came about slowly but surely, her plasma drive was designed to allow her to move to and from a dock but it took time to build up speed and she had been stationary. Laser bolts continued to leap from the aft citadel as the lasers turned to keep firing at the frigate, new firing hatches were opened as the guns were run around there rails and turned on their mounts. The riggers still aboard had climbed aloft as soon as the bosun had shouted and they were pulling loose the lowest, narrowest sails, partial sails they called it, enough to give the ship speed for battle but not enough to drag in between the stars without a course set.
Then the entire stern was engulfed in light as the huge plasma cannon fired, its ball of intense fire visibly moving across the void to strike the bow of the merchant that was now close enough to be a certain target. Masts exploded like matchsticks and every sail on the small ship melted as the ball of fire engulfed the forward citadel and melted the unamoured hull to slag, dozens on deck were vaporised and the merchant, now out of control swept past the Herald it had been trying to ram and instead smashed into the tall stern windows of the leviathan, shattering the glass windows and pushing the burning bow into the halls beyond.
Figures on the merchants deck far enough back to have escaped the plasma hit jumped, not for safety but toward the Herald, all but one missed and were left drifting in the void but the last caught one of the walkways on an amidships mast and grabbed hold. The closet rigger screamed and tried to climb to safety but slipped and ended up clinging to a sail rope and dangling above the darkness.
On the deck one of the crew took up a laser pistol and fired at the figure climbing along the walkway toward the helpless rigger. He fired and swore then fired again. Another man joined him and both fired. The bosun reached them and called them fools for missing then paused as he watched the bright green shirt they were shooting at catch fire. The figure didn’t even slow! The bosun looked into the closest weapons chest and swore as he saw it was empty then he ran to the next and then the third. With an oath he bent over and stood again cradling a boarding laser in his big calloused hands.
Taking careful aim he fired and fired again, a scatter of laser shots scorched the mast but most struck the figure that went up in flames like a torch then fell away from the mast and began to drift away in the darkness. Without having made a sound, no shout, no scream, the figure had been silent during the entire attack.
Long forgotten religion bought ancient prayers to the bosuns lips before he spun his head to look for the frigate that still remained a threat. It was some distance off and clearly in trouble, several masts were now gone and it was reduced to the speed of its plasma drives but it was coming about to bring it’s prow to bear while the riggers now had the Heralds sails half unfurled and she was picking up speed steadily.
“BOSUN. THE CAPTN BE THERE.” One of the riggers was shouting and pointed, the Herald has turned as it gained speed and was now above and alongside the Leviathan, the captains black coat was plain to see as he led a mixed party of boarders and his guards onto the main deck where they joined the small group of riggers standing there.
The captain was shouting but he was too far away to hear, then he was pointing, toward the Leviathans bow, pointing at something, giving an order. But what!
#
Captain Morgan Thale, known by many as Fellheart, had known fear before but this was something new to him for there was terror in his heart this day.
The Leviathan was infested with void ghouls, half his boarders were dead or lost and his ship was moving away from him as it fought two enemy ships.
One of which was racing toward the Leviathans stern. Then the merchant had been engulfed in fire as the plasma round struck and the flame wreathed wreck came straight at the windows.
Someone screamed “RUN!” and they did, smashing aside the furniture as they raced across the dining hall toward the door forward and the deck beyond. They reached the door and crashed into each other as they all tried to push through at the same time, then the tall panels of glass shattered behind them and the heat of the hottest desert washed across them as the burning merchant came through the windows and into the imperial ship.
They were through the door and running to the moss covered deck though not a man amongst them could ever remember how they all made it through the door so quickly. The senior rigger and his people were there, they had not heard the fighting below but had seen the battle begin in space and now stared as their captain ran toward them with the fires of several hells licking at the doorway he had just come through.
“Capen, the Herald, she be leavin us. We be ABANDONED!”
“BE SILENT MAN, she’s not abandoning us, she’s fighting out there and needed to move.” The captain looked forward and aft. The doorway aft was a mass of flames but it wasn’t the only doorway, there was another he hadn’t noticed before, on the far side of the passenger deck. He looked forward across the cast filed of moss and saw a pair of wide spread doors leading into the forward citadel. But did they have time to search for another hatch and for the Herald to find that hatch.
His ship couldn’t come close enough to pick them up from the amidships deck because of the forest of masts around the imperial ship, the chance of getting caught or losing one of their masts was too high.
Unless.
The captains eyes stared as his mind struggled to think clearly with his heart pounding in his chest. The imperial ships masts stopped the herald from coming close but forward there was something odd, he struggled to think then it struck him. The shattered side masts forward, the Herald could come close enough to throw over a rope and pick them up where the Leviathans masts were broken away. He looked up into the darkness where the herald was loving past, her sails half open and still gaining speed. Standing on the mid deck he could see the heavyset frame and bald head of the bosun and he shouted then pointed at the broken masts.
He shouted again and kept pointed then the Herald was past and moving forward till two of its flank sails became mist and the top quarter of a mast turned to splinters and a half burned stump. The rigger that had been there gone in an instant With sails lost on one flank the ship immediately turned that way, riggers scrambling to set more sail on the damaged side and cut sail on the other, the Herald vanished from sight beneath the Imperial hull as more lasers came from the distant frigate seeking her end.
“Captain, movement, up there.” One of the bodyguards was pointing at the balcony above them as a figure appeared then vanished again. Then the figure reappeared and shouted down at them not to shoot.
“Captain, I’m trapped up here, the stairs are on fire!” Lieutenant Cale had recovered and staggered to the stairs only to fall as the whole citadel shock.
By the time he had stood again and reached the stairs flames were coming up to meet him and he jumped backwards to avoid the heat. The only way out now was the balcony and he had ran out and looked down to see the captain and some of the crew suddenly point pistols and a few remaining boarding lasers toward him.
“Cale, can you get down here?”. The officer looked around frantically, no rope anywhere that he could see nor anything that would serve as a rope, he ran back into the citadel and looked into the store room being careful this time, his sword in one and his pistol in the other. No rope. The navigators quarters were equally useless as was the captain’s cabin. Nothing there but rich decorations and walls hung with some sort of silk hangings.
Below on the deck the captain watched the lieutenant vanish from sight then turned to look for the Herald, it was out of sight but the feeling that they were running out of time filled him. Finally he could wait no more and pointed forward to the railing overlooking the shattered masts. “All of you, over there. NOW!” The crew needed no second order and set off at a run but his bodyguard remained by his side.
The captain began to run himself then slowed and looked back as he heard a yell. A tangled length of bright silk, wall hangings by the look of them, came over the balcony and hung half way down the citadel wall then the lieutenant came over the balcony rail and half climbed half slide down the cloth. Above him the balcony exploded into flame and he reached the bottom of the makeshift rope without slowing, he fell two floors and smashed into the deck with a scream.
“You two, go get im.” The senior bodyguard gave the order without checking with the captain and two of the guards ran back across the moss then jumped down to the deck. They quickly returned holding the groaning Cale between them and as soon as the three reached them the captained turned and led them across the deck at the run.
Ahead of them the rest of the crew stood by the rail, one then several more pointing behind them and the running men risked a look behind them, the other door was open and black clad figures were pouring out, a score at least.
Then a powerful laser beam swept across the deck and burned the first few to ash. The sun was blocked out and a cold shadow covered them as the herald slowed to a halt so close alongside that her flanking masts could be touched by a tall man. Riggers on those masts threw ropes across and the senior rigger and his men were up in the air and then safe on the walkways in an instant, they then turned to pull the remaining crew aboard and the last to leave the deck was the captains senior bodyguard who jumped into the rigging without bothering with the ropes as half a hundred ghouls made it through the laser fire and raced across the moss to reach him.
On the deck the bosun bellowed his orders and the Herald backed away from the deck, every crew man that was available stood on the deck with a laser in hand ready for any ghouls that jumped across but none did. Every rigger was aloft and as soon as the captain was back on the deck they had every sail fully open and the Herald began to race across the system.
Once they were safely distant the captain order the sails half furled to allow the navigator time to make his plot then the sails were opened once more and with a great circle of transparent white around her hull Poseidon’s Herald raced for the stars and home.
On board the ship the few wounded were treated and the survivors counted their blessings and told wild tales of battles in dimly lit corridors. They were relieved to be alive and safe and not a man amongst them thought to wonder what had happened to the old man who had told them about the Leviathan, the old man they had press ganged and who had served with the crew on the deck for the trip out here. The old man who had vanished without trace.
#
The tavern was like a hundred others on free ports across the stars. A few old lights and a Smokey fire cast flickering shadows on the brick walls dotted with old plaster, and on the varied customers who came there to drink. One table on the far side of the room was hidden within a crowd of men who clustered close around the two men seated there, the crew of a merchant ship well known as a smuggler, which was, even now, docked above the free port.
At the table sat their captain and a weathered looking man. The sailor was old, past forty at the least, maybe even as old as fifty, skin like old leather, his bald pate smooth as a dome and his beard more white that grey with a bare few hairs left to mark the black of his youth. A foaming tankard was pushed into the old man’s hands and he drank it in two gulps then was passed another with more waiting for him besides.
The captain leaned forward, his burgundy jacket rich with decorations.
“Tell me old man, what did you see?”
The old sailor finished the tankard he held and slammed in down on the rough wooden table then looked the captain in the eye.
“I saw her, with my own eyes I saw her, the lost ship, the treasure ship.”
The end of this tale, or perhaps simply the beginning of another.