The Rise of Earth (10 page)

“You're a wise man,” Mavry said as they reached the
Actaeon
's main ladderwell. He followed the two Actaeons up to the bridge, out of Tycho's sight. The rest of the Comets followed, with Huff's metal footsteps echoing throughout the passageway.

The
Actaeon
's bridge was lit softly by work lights. Through her wide viewports Tycho could see the immense glowing river of the Milky Way. A middle-aged man sat in the captain's chair. Tycho supposed he must be Captain Wildasin. One finger yanked irritably at the collar of his green uniform, which was dark with sweat.

Tycho looked around the bridge. The four men and two women at the consoles were wearing green. But there were five other Actaeons on the bridge—the two who'd met the Comets at the airlocks and three others. And all of them wore royal blue.

“It sure is crowded on this bridge, Captain,” Mavry said.

Wildasin wiped his brow and nodded at one of the blue-clad Actaeons.

“Mr. Haines is our engineer,” he muttered. “These are his people.”

“Now that much I believe,” Mavry said.

He drew his musketoon and aimed at the spot between Haines's eyes. His hand was perfectly still. A moment later the Actaeons wearing royal blue found themselves with carbines in their ears, under their chins, or between their shoulder blades, their weapons taken from them. Tycho noticed with annoyance that his own pistol was wavering in his hand.

“Oh thank goodness,” Wildasin said when the last crewer in royal blue had been disarmed.

Haines's fingers twitched. He was breathing hard.

“Gently, please, Mr. Haines,” Mavry said. “Now then. You want to tell me who you really are?”

“Like the captain said—”

“They're a prize crew from His Majesty's privateer
Kerensky
,” Wildasin said. “She jumped us two days ago, pretending to be a patrol out of 617 Patroclus. They were taking us to Hygiea when you spotted us.”

Huff stomped across the bridge and stepped so close to Haines that Tycho could see the distorted reflection of the man's face in his grandfather's chrome skull.

“So this stuffed-shirt Earthman wants to play pirate,” he growled.

“I am a member of His Majesty's naval forces!” Haines bleated. “Taking part in a lawful action against enemy commerce according to the terms of our letter of marque!”

Huff's metal fingers closed around the front of Haines's uniform.

“Yer an Earthman what talks like a lawyer,” he roared, hurling Haines across the bridge to land in a heap on the deck. “Dunno which part I like least.”

“No need for that, Huff,” Mavry said, hastily interposing himself between his father-in-law and the fallen Haines. He holstered his musketoon and adjusted his headset.

“Dio? Did you hear all that? Then come meet our new friends.”

“The man refuses to be reasonable,” Vass said in disgust, turning away from where Haines sat sullenly in the chair that had belonged to the
Actaeon
's actual engineer, recently released from captivity in the freighter's hold.

Diocletia was leaning against Captain Wildasin's station.

“Must you be difficult, Mr. Haines?” she asked, then looked over to where a glowering Huff was pacing back and forth by the
Actaeon
's ladderwell, his metal feet striking sparks from the decking. “It's a dreadful cliché, but we have ways of making you talk.”

“My prize crew and I are lawful combatants, Captain Hashoone,” Haines replied. “Neither you nor this . . .
bureaucrat
has the right to interrogate us outside of a military tribunal. And it is your obligation to guarantee us good treatment and swift repatriation.”

Haines glared at Huff. “Seeing how you have already failed in that obligation, I can assure you the proper
authorities will be told that I was assaulted in clear violation of—”

“Things can go wrong while securing a prize, Mr. Haines,” Diocletia said, studying her fingers. “Terrible things, sometimes.”

Six bells rang out. The
Actaeon
's recording had a bad case of static, Tycho noted.

Diocletia looked up at Haines. “But I'm familiar with the laws of war. And I have every intention of taking you to a neutral port—in this case, Cybele. There, I'm sure His Majesty's representatives will secure your release.”

“You're finally acting civilized,” Haines said. “Therefore, as an officer in His Majesty's service, I give you my parole. My men can bunk in the common area of your ship, but I will of course expect to be housed in proper quarters. And to have my sidearm returned at once.”

“Mmm,” Diocletia said. “Mr. Richards? Take these men and put them in the
Comet
's brig. And fetch Mr. Haines a crate to sit on. A fancy one befitting his status as an officer in His Majesty's armed forces.”

Haines stared at Diocletia, his face mottled with rage.

“Into the brig or out the airlock, Mr. Haines,” she said. “Let Mr. Richards know what you decide.”

“This is outrageous!”

“Or you can answer Mr. Vass's questions, in which case we
might
find room for you to bunk belowdecks with one of the loblolly boys. Let's get moving, Comets.
Captain Wildasin has a journey to resume, and so do we.”

“You just wait, Captain Hashoone!” Haines roared. “You Jovians will learn some manners when you meet Jean-Christophe Allamand!”

Diocletia shrugged. “I'm always looking for ways to improve.”

T
ycho wasn't on watch for a while yet, so he retreated to the
Comet
's top deck as the
Actaeon
resumed her interrupted course for Jupiter.

He paused at the door to his own cabin and then headed aft, passing the galley and the cuddy, the enclosed ladderwell that led from belowdecks to the
Comet
's top gun turret, and the head. Huff's cabin was the last one on the starboard side. Tycho knocked, then thumbed
the door control open when he heard his grandfather's grunt.

Huff's cabin was cramped; next to his rarely used bunk was a humming power unit, connected by multicolored cables to a long, low metal tank. The lid of the tank was closed, with Huff's head and shoulders emerging from a hatch at one end. His metal legs were lying on the floor of the cabin, next to his artificial hand, forearm blaster cannon, and a scattering of clothing.

“Yer mother send yeh up here, boy?” Huff asked, turning to peer at his grandson.

“No, Grandfather,” Tycho said, sitting on the chair bolted to the deck near Huff's worktable. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Been better. That Earthman still squawkin' 'bout the laws of war?”

“Mom's letting him think things over in the brig. But she allowed the other members of the prize crew to give their parole and sling hammocks belowdecks. She thinks a few hours of reflection might make Mr. Haines cooperate with Mr. Vass a little better.”

“Arrr. Don't like that Vass, but 'ave to admit he don't scare easy.”

“Mr. Vass wasn't doing anything bad earlier, Grandfather. We were talking about the Securitat, and the JDF, and what's happening in the solar system. It was interesting.”

Huff turned and Tycho could hear the contents of the tank sloshing as he moved—it was filled with salt water
that kept Huff's flesh from developing sores at the attachment points for his mechanical limbs.

“Listen, Tycho,” Huff said. “I've seen yeh learn so much these last few years, an' it's made me proud. But there's things yeh still don't know, lad. Like how to deal with these intelligence types. They start by flatterin' yeh, actin' like what yeh know will help the Jovian Union, an' all they want is to listen. But then . . .”

Huff's voice trailed off and he leaned back against the padded rim of the tank, closing his living eye as something beeped irritably inside the tank.

“I'm sorry, Grandfather,” Tycho said. “I should let you recharge.”

Huff opened his eye again.

“No, boy, I'll be fine. Listen to me. What spies like this Vass want ain't information—it's
people
. People they can use for their own purposes.”

The old pirate leaned forward, both his living and artificial eyes ablaze.

“Don't let them do favors for yeh, Tycho. Because them favors ain't free. Sooner or later they'll ask yeh for somethin' back. Won't be nothin' important, not at first. But eventually it'll be something yeh don't feel quite right doin'. An' if yeh agree, they've got yeh. Yeh understand me, Tycho?”

Tycho nodded, his heart thudding in his chest.

Seven bells rang out—it was 1530.

“I know yeh think it can't happen to yeh,” Huff rasped, sinking lower into the tank. “But it can. Seen it
happen to boys as honest as yeh, with futures as bright as yers.”

Huff's eye closed, and Tycho watched him for a moment. His grandfather's beard was more gray than black where it covered the living half of his face, and the flesh was sagging and deeply lined. The tattoos on his flesh-and-blood shoulder had faded, the mermaids and old sailing ships dull and blurred.

He's an old man
, Tycho thought, and even as he rebelled at the thought, it was replaced by a worse one: his grandfather wasn't even that. Less than half of him was living flesh—the rest was metal and machinery, circuits and ceramics, grafted to cauterized tissue and sheared-away bone.

Did he ever wish he'd died at 624 Hektor, when an Earth destroyer's missile had ripped through the
Comet
's quarterdeck? Would he have preferred to be sewn into a shroud and set adrift in eternity, rather than forced to spend several hours a day trapped in this tank? Did he wish he'd never seen the once-mighty Jupiter pirates reduced to privateers and outlaws and hermits?

The scarred, gray-haired old head shifted slightly, living eye still closed.

“Look like yeh seen a ghost, boy,” Huff grunted.

Tycho started in surprise, then realized Huff's artificial eye never shut, not even while the living remnant of him slept.

“Sorry, Grandfather. I was just thinking.”

“That's a sure road to trouble,” Huff muttered, but
a smile creased the living half of his face, and Tycho smiled back.

Tycho opened his mouth to excuse himself, to leave the old man in peace. But then he hesitated. What had happened at 624 Hektor had been a forbidden topic throughout his childhood—a tale pieced together from furtive searches through information databases and overheard snatches of conversation, whispered about when grown-ups weren't listening. But all at once, there in the dim room that smelled faintly of salt water, he discovered he was tired of wondering.

“I know the Securitat gave you the software programs that were supposed to protect against the jamming, Grandfather,” he said, relieved to hear his voice was strong and clear. “Did they lie to you about what they were for?”

Huff's eye opened. He turned his head slowly to stare at Tycho, who forced himself to look right back at him. A muscle in the old pirate's cheek spasmed.

“I know you don't want to talk about it, Grandfather. But it
matters
. And I need to know. Did the Securitat have something to do with it?”

Huff said nothing for a long moment. But then he raised his chin until he was staring at the hull above their heads.

“I forget yeh ain't a child no more,” he muttered. “Seems like just a couple of weeks back yeh an' yer siblings were mere babes, but then I realize it's been years. Yer practically a man now, Tyke. An' I'm proud of the
man yer becomin'. Proud of all of yeh.”

Huff sighed. “Hard to think of anythin' in this coffin. But yeh deserve to know. So ask me yer question agin.”

Tycho swallowed.

“Did the Securitat have something to do with 624 Hektor?” he asked, forcing himself to say the forbidden name.

“Arrr, of course they did.”

Tycho drew back, surprised. But he said nothing, fearful of breaking whatever spell had unbound his grandfather's tongue.

“The freighters in the Martian convoy we ambushed was carryin' United Collective hardware to the warehouses of Ganymede Quint-X. Never found out exactly what, but it was sophisticated stuff, worth a fortune. Part of some sweetheart corporate deal. Our commerce ministry didn't like an Earth corporation gettin' that much control over one of our own, but a Jovian court had said the deal could go ahead. So the Union leadership decided 'twas best for the shipment to go missin', on account of pirates. It had to be a secret, of course. That's where the Securitat came in. We didn't know that Earth was behind it all—that they were pullin' strings, plannin' to destroy us an' embarrass the Securitat by trickin' 'em into helpin'.”

“I understand the Securitat was involved,” Tycho said. “But who sabotaged the program? Was it Earth? Or was it the Securitat, and they just blamed it on Earth?”

“Arrrr, that's just a grog-shop yarn, boy,” Huff
muttered. “An' 'fore yeh say it, I heard what that old witch Oshima tole yeh, back on Io. It ain't true, Tyke. It was Earth, an' it was Oshima.”

“But she said you and Mox were the ones who distributed the program. She said she wasn't involved.”

“She didn't distribute it. But that ain't the same as not bein' involved.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oshima didn't like to get her hands dirty—she'd rather work in the shadows, pulling strings. Most impossible person in the solar system, even 'fore she turned traitor. If she got a hint of a better deal she'd sell yeh out in a second. Her daddy, Blink, was a decent sort, but he never taught Oshima that we don't swindle our own. The way I peg it, she used Mox for her plan 'cause she knew no other Jupiter pirate would listen to her.”

Huff laughed, then grimaced as the laugh turned into a coughing fit that sent water sloshing in the tank. Tycho extended his hand, concerned, but Huff shook his head.

“We all did a lively business poachin' crewers from Oshima, y'know. Good captain, but a right hard horse to her own people. She drove all the Yakata family retainers away within a few years, so after that she had to use hired hands. The time to get one of Oshima's crewers was after his second cruise with her—if he didn't have any brains she'd sack him after the first, an' if he had any sense he'd be ready to sack himself after the second.”

“Why? What would she do?”

“Arr, what wouldn't she do? Articles for each cruise
longer than a flight manual, an' she'd use the fine print to chisel her crewers out of prizes. Even traveled with a pet lawyer to draw up the articles an' settle disputes with other pirates—fella by the name of Satterwhite, what couldn't practice no more cause he'd shot someone for bein' slow to pay him.”

“But if Oshima was so bad, then why did Mox trust her?”

“He didn't. But Thoadbone thought everybody was out to swindle him, so he didn't take it personal when Oshima tried to do it. An' he'd listen to any fool plan from somebody what had two livres to rub together.”

“And . . . where did you come in, Grandfather?”

Huff leaned forward, his living eye shut. The lines around his mouth deepened into furrows.

“Mox came to me,” he said quietly. “At the Hygiea roadstead. I figgered he was cross 'bout somethin' an' fixin' to kill me for it—that was usually the case—so I drew my persuader and stuck it 'tween his eyes 'fore his brain got around to sayin' how-do. But he jes put up his hands an' smiled, real reasonable-like. That weren't like Thoadbone, an' truth be told it kinda stumped me.”

Huff let his head settle with a bump against the top of the tank.

“What a fool I was,” he said. “'Bout that an' so much else. If only I'd settled his hash right then an' there, like I wanted to. It would 'ave saved so many good people so much grief.”

Then why did you let him go after we captured the
Hydra
?
Tycho wondered. But he knew that asking would end the conversation immediately—and perhaps forever.

“So Mox told you he was working with Oshima?” he asked.

“No. Connected them dots later. Thoadbone told me 'bout the convoy, an' what it was carryin', an' how the Securitat planned to make it disappear. Sounded like an easy prize, Tyke—solid intelligence, a big reward, an' no questions asked.”

The tank began beeping insistently again.

“Give me a minute, lad,” Huff muttered.

He closed his living eye, his breath low and labored. For a moment Tycho thought he'd fallen asleep. But then, with his eye still closed, he began to speak again.

“It was a big score when we needed one. I let that blind me, when I should 'ave been askin' questions. An' . . . let's say there were family reasons, too.”

“What do you mean, Grandfather?”

For a long moment Huff said nothing, the only sign of life a lone muscle leaping in his cheek. Then he opened his eye and began to speak, his eyes fixed straight ahead, avoiding Tycho's gaze.

“Yeh know yer aunt was engaged to Sims. She'd run off with him—said she didn't care 'bout the captaincy no more. Said yer mother could have it, because she was goin' to serve aboard Cassius Gibraltar's ship instead.”

Tycho had never heard that. Huff's face twisted at the recollection.

“My own daughter, willin' to give up the captaincy of
the
Comet—
everything she'd worked for—to take orders on a Gibraltar quarterdeck. Left me in a right clove hitch, lad. I couldn't let that happen—would 'ave been the ruin of the family, one of ours signin' on with our archrivals. Yeh see that, don't yeh?”

Tycho nodded, but Huff had continued talking, not even looking at his grandson.

“Centuries of history an' honor, all reduced to bilge. So I did what I had to do.”

He paused, then bit his lip. The expression made for a strange contrast—the anxious, flesh-and-blood side of his face next to the grinning half of a chrome skull.

“I said I'd make Carina my successor, an' let Sims serve on our quarterdeck. But then yer mother . . . yer mother an' Mavry . . .”

“They made a deal with Cassius instead. To join his bridge crew.”

“Aye.”

Huff shook his head, staring into the recesses of his gloomy cabin.