The Jupiter Pirates Read Free Page B

Diocletia said. She frowned and turned back to the main screen. “You’d better get going, then. Vesuvia, my starship.”

3
BOARDING PARTY
    A s he hurried to the lower decks of the Comet , Tycho’s boots clattered on the rungs of the forward ladderwell. It was a different world down here: the air was thick with smoke and the smell of fuel, and red light dimly illuminated a maze of beams and girders. A few minutes earlier, most of the crewers had been asleep in hammocks strung from those beams. Now they were rushing to their stations, arms cradling weapons and gear.
    A female crewer with a shaved, tattooed head and earrings up and down both ears caught sight of him and nearly dropped her wicked-looking laser rifle in her haste to salute.
    â€œMaster Hashoone on deck!” she yelled.
    The crewers snapped to attention and saluted, their eyes fierce.
    â€œAs you were,” Tycho said. “Boarding party, assemble at the port airlock.”
    A cluster of crewers yelled eagerly and rushed in that direction. Hurrying to keep pace with them, Tycho momentarily felt very small—they were big, tough men and women, with scars and artificial parts accumulated over years of fighting. Then he reminded himself that most of them had served his family for their entire lives, and some came from families that had done so for generations. He might be only twelve, but he was a Hashoone—and that meant the family retainers would follow his orders and give their lives for him.
    The knot of crewers parted, and Mr. Grigsby stepped forward. The Comet ’s warrant officer was big enough that his head almost touched the security cameras hanging from the ceiling. Grigsby had dark brown skin, white dreadlocks, and tattoos that glowed green, orange, and blue. Strings of gold coins hung from his holsters and jangled as he walked.
    â€œBoarding party of eight, Master Hashoone,” he said, then handed over two gleaming chrome laser musketoons. “And here are the ranking officer’s weapons.”
    â€œThank you, Mr. Grigsby,” Tycho said, taking the heavy guns. They had broad, bell-like muzzles and felt deadly in his hands. He said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t have to use them.
    Grigsby and the crewers were looking intently at him, he realized. Stop daydreaming!
    â€œShe’s an Orion freighter, fully loaded,” Tycho said, his voice breaking on the final word.
    Tycho caught a couple of the crewers trying not to smile and raised his voice, staring fiercely at each of the men and women in the circle around him.
    â€œHer captain didn’t much like being ordered to shut down,” Tycho said. “But that’s his tough luck, isn’t it? If he doesn’t give us trouble, we won’t bring him any. But if he starts something, we’ll finish it. That clear?”
    â€œClear,” Grigsby said, showing a grin full of chrome teeth.
    â€œThree cheers for Master Tycho!” a crewer yelled, and a moment later all the crewers were cheering, guns and swords raised.
    â€œDobbs! Richards!” Grigsby bellowed. “Take point!”
    Two of the Comet ’s biggest, meanest crewers stepped forward. Both wore plates of armor across their chests. Dobbs, the Comet ’s skinny, ghostly pale master-at-arms, had an evil-smelling cheroot clutched in his teeth. Richards, a belowdecks veteran, stopped at the airlock door, eyes narrowed.
    Tycho activated his headset. “Quarterdeck, we’re ready.”
    â€œYou are green for boarding,” his mother said coolly in his ears as the bells began to clang, signaling 0300 hours. Tycho waited for the sound of the sixth and final bell to die away, then nodded to Grigsby.
    â€œOpen her up,” he said.
    Alarms sounded and lights flashed as the Comet ’s inner airlock doors began to grind open, followed by the outer airlock doors a few meters away. Beyond them, the hatch of the Cephalax II waited. The chill of deep space