Captain Parrott: Space Buccaneer

Part 2: What's in the box?

Captain Emilia Parrott stood on the command bridge of the Revenant. All around her a holo rig projected a hyper-realistic view of the space surrounding the ship. She'd taken off the survival suit as soon as she was back on board and now wore a regular sized set of pirate regalia which, while less dirty, still reeked to high heaven. Freed from the suit's helmet her graying brown hair hung at shoulder length in a tangled mass. The husk of the Tacktavor floated nearby with the breaching bridge still linking the two ships. Emilia gestured and the view zoomed in on the oxygen tanks where crewman Kadri was unhooking the siphon tube.

"Chief Engineer Rudo reports that the Tachtavor's AI has finally been purged and the ship is now fully under our control" chimed Polly, the Revenant's AI.

"Good. 'ave we finished siphonin' off the oxygen?"

"Our storage tanks are at 94%, although scans show the Tachtavor's oxygen tanks are still at 43%."

"Tis a fair haul. Signal the crew t' pull back an' once everyone's a board direct that heap t' fly at full speed in t' the nearest star. Then set course fer the flotilla."

"Aye, aye captain," replied the AI. Parrott smiled to herself. It had been surprisingly difficult to convince the AI to say that. It was hard enough to teach it to speak English in the first place. For the longest time she could only control the thing through her communicator wiring as it used the strange, guttural dialect of the Whipshar. In the beginning it couldn't even make human sounds.

With the last business of the raid dealt with she shut down the holo rig and left through the bridge's sliding doors. The corridors of the Revenant had a plain, utilitarian look to them. One of the few downsides to owning a state of the art military craft. One of these days she'd set some of the crew to decorating the ship's interior to match the theme but there was always something more important to prepare for and the fab unit was always busy replacing broken gear or building tools for the next op.

The hallway may have been empty, but below her the ship was alive with the clank and grind of machinery as the crew stowed newly acquired cargo and prepared the ship for departure. Much of what they had salvaged would be broken down to fuel the fabricator's endless lust for raw materials but there were a few items that Polly suggested were valuable enough to be worth selling on the open market. Which, of course, really meant fencing them on the black market. But she had enough contacts that the one was as easy as the other. If you measured the crew's wealth in fleet credits they were all rich but those weren't an accepted form of currency outside the flotilla where they couldn't be traded for anything useful. In terms of real galactic currency they were dirt poor. It would be nice to have some real cash on hand in case the fabricator broke down.

As she crossed the threshold into the captain's cabin she was surprised to find Pierre waiting with a large metal box. Unlike the corridors the cabin had been renovated but not in the pirate styling that had been used elsewhere on the ship. The best earth comparison for it would be a hyper-modern, and very large, luxury apartment. Pierre saluted as she entered but remained silent. He'd already shed his regalia in favor of a plain ship's jumpsuit. Parrott hung her hat on a stand near the door and walked behind a screen to switch into her own jumpsuit.

"I thought you'd be out there scavenging for new tech," Emilia said as she rounded the corner wiping dirt off her face.

"On that old junker?" Pierre chuckled. "I think they were still using binary computers."

"How's Daniels doing?"

"Sore. But he'll live." Pierre paused a moment and hung his head. "We'll hold a funeral for Jacob tomorrow. I remember back on earth he always joked that when he died he wanted to be fired out of a cannon into the sun. Looks like he'll get his wish. Just not with the sun he had in mind."

"I'm sure it will be beautiful. I'll have to work that into my speech somehow." Emilia rapped her knuckle against the metal box. "So what's in here?"

"A gift."

"An Emilia gift or a Parrott gift?"

"Parrot. Sorry, but there isn't anywhere to surprise you out there. Since we don't have to worry about sensitive oxygen tanks and fragile ship walls when we go back to meet Gorb I had the fab cook up something to surprise him with." Pierre flipped back the lid to reveal a large, bulky weapon.

"Is that a plasma cannon?" Emila asked as she hefted the weapon out of its foam casing. It was lighter than it looked but still too heavy to wield with a single hand.

"Yup. With six shells fully charged and ready to go. I... wouldn't fire it on the ship. Anywhere on the ship. If I read the schematics correctly a single shot can burn a hole clear from bow to stern."

"Yikes. You know that if shooting actually starts we need to take him alive right?"

"Well, we can give it to one of the crew and have them wave it around threateningly. I take it we're getting ready to head out now?"

"Yeah. Polly just gave the order to pull back. We'll stop by the flotilla to drop off the oxygen and then we're off to deliver a mysterious doodad to a criminal warlord."

"You mean you don't know what's in that box?"

"Don't know. Don't care. Apparently the Kelpak have been involved in some spy ops against the Mevrans and they were smuggling that cube out on that oxygen freighter. Got to hand it to them, it's a clever hiding spot. Freighters are so common no one pays much attention to them and without EM disruptors, which the Mevrans don't have, you can't board them without the crew blowing the cargo. So even if you get caught it's pretty easy to hide the evidence."

"I find it hard to believe you aren't at least a little curious about what's inside. It's not like you to respect client privacy."

"In this case, I'm making an exception. Whatever it is, Gorb wants it bad and he's paying more than enough for the service."

"What's he giving you? An even deadlier warship?"

"Even better. A planet."