Captain Justo: Chapter One

NEGOTIATING WITH PIRATES


Chapter 1

The negotiation room was dimly lit with blue photon tubes and dim static lights. The smell of stale food hung in the reprocessed air. Each room and hall sector in the decrepit salvage space station had low ceilings and undecorated reinforced metal walls that could be sealed off in case of a hull breach. Disaster and the loss of life were common because of the dirty and dangerous work of parting-out and scrapping worn-out space craft and stolen machinery. The Prison Salvage Space Station was oddly located in deep space, with only a high security penal colony called the Royal Prison Planet close enough to restock its supplies.
Admiral Ezra Justo looked around at the dirty furnishings, the drab, claustrophobic space and the cluttered, ornate desk that he knew would witness the fate of his family's most prized possession. He was a ninth-generation starship captain and the rightful Admiral to Kings of his people. His brothers, uncles and cousins were all involved in the same trade, and they took their business very seriously. It also paid well. The Admiral didn't have to work; he had enough crystal in the bank to purchase a fleet of starships.
Nevertheless, with the command of an Isian starship came the commission to work until the blood ceased flowing in his veins. He was fifty-six terra years, with speckled grey hair and a solid yet round build. The years were starting to show. All the crystal in the universe couldn't stop the onslaught of time.
Standing next to him was his son Marion James Justo, the heir to the throne of all Is, but more importantly, the only hope he had of extending his own family line. Marion was twenty-one terra years and had just completed a two year service assignment to New Euna also known as Terra 1154 in the Florin Galaxy. During his two year assignment he dug wells, built schools, and tended to the needs of a gentle people trying to start a new colony. The Admiral admired his son's energy, generosity and compassion.
Marion was a tall young man with broad shoulders made strong with many hours of heavy labor. His fair complexion was browned by the single sun of the Euna star system, but his hair was bleached to a near golden shine. His eyes were blue like all of his father's family but his eyebrows were darker, like his mother's. He looked like a prince from head to toe, and his father was very proud of him. He had big plans for his son. He thought now that his service-time was completed he would immerse him in the duties of the family business.
"Are you sure they meant to have us meet here?" the young man asked hesitantly. "This salvage space station doesn't have a clean room in it. I wouldn't want to negotiate for a space scooter in this room."
"Just be patient Marion. I have a feeling this meeting is not exactly public knowledge. If I had to guess . . . quiet, here they come."
An old worn out man limped into the room and together several younger men followed after him. The elder man had an air of importance, although the rumpled utility space suit he wore didn't give him any dignity. The younger men were covered in grease and soot and their hair was long, unwashed and scraggly. They were men of hard, dirty work.
One of them didn't understand the value of keeping his opinions to himself. "I only sent the transfer of title request but an hour ago." The young man complained loudly as they entered the room. "How d'ye expect ‘em to give us the clearance to transfer a title so soon? All I have ready is a salvage title, an why are ye tradin' with an Isian Admiral anyway, all alone, without an official negotiator here, it's madness."
"Keep it shut, boy," The old man growled. "Ye stand over there and stay out of me way. Don't open yer trap, none of ya. I only have ye here as witnesses. So do yer job and witness, right?"
The three young men ducked into the shadows and held their peace. The elder limped over to the table and, without looking up, cleaned off the desk with the swipe of his large and muscular arm that belied his limp. All the papers, writing tools and books flew to the floor and added to the general filthiness of the room.
"It goes like this," he growled. "I'm called Cridoa, son of Cerdic, that dirt bag in the shadows is Ingild the Lesser, eyes, ears and yappin' mouth of the Seration Confederation and these are his mates. I suppose ye be Admiral Justo but who's this other pup ye brought with ye? I told ye to come alone, are ye deaf or dumb?"
"This is my son, Marion. We stand as one."
"Aye, beggin' yer pardon. A blood son can stand with ye." The old man ducked his head down with respect. "I had a blood son once, and I would we had him stand next to me, but I'll not burden ye with that sad story. I found a ship floatin' in me sector, see, and I own the salvage rights for me sector and everything in it. I have complete authority to everything havin' to do with this transaction, ain't that right boys?" He looked over at the men standing in the corner and they all nodded nervously. "Idone some searchin' and it looks like ye might have an interest in ownin' the pile o' rubbish I found floatin' in me territory, an I might have an interest in givin' her to ye for a fair profit. Are ye still interested?"
"I am interested." Admiral Justo said in a dignified way. "We have agreed on a price through our emissaries, and I am ready to make the transfer as you requested."
"Did ye follow me strict instructions, down to the last?" The old man wheezed with a look of craziness in his eyes.
"I did as you instructed. I have deposited the digits into your accounts. Do you have the title of the ship with you?"
"O' course I do, do ye think I be off the head?" The old man walked around the table and took out a round ball the size of marble and rolled it in his dirty old hands. "Here's the title, but it's only a salvage title mind you, makes the ship worth about as much as a dirty penny, butif'n yer willin t' trade, then I'm willn' t' take yer money, though I think ye be mad entering into deep Seration territory, next door, as it were, to the Royal Prison Planet. You must want this piece of floatin' jewelry pretty badly to make this kind a trip. So I'm uppin' me price. I'll take what ye offered and then I'll have another twenty million, in crystal."
"Twenty million in crystal?" Young Marion Justo coughed out. "The price has been settled on. What kind of negotiation is this?"
"Keep yer pup shut up, Admiral." The ancient trader barked ferociously as he circled them like a wild animal. "Did ye think ye could waltz into me own backgarden and not play by me rules? Did ye think this little transaction was going to come off without a hitch? If so, then ye be the mad ones I'll bet."
Admiral Justo motioned for his son to be still. He paused for a moment, and then spoke with quiet power and authority. "I have had many dealing with Serations in the past and I expect I will have many more in the future. Serations are men of their word, from the greatest to the weakest, so when you increase the price for the object of our barter by such a significant amount, and in untraceable crystal, there must be a good reason for it. Why do you break your own time honored vow of fair dealing?"
The old man went pale. His fingers started to shake and a tear leaked from one eye and then both became as hard as glass. He exploded. "They stole me son," he yelled. "Those ungrateful sons of the infernal pit, they recruited him to capture this very ship forty long years ago, and then they lost the ship and me son with it. Is twenty million worth me son? Is a hundred million? You can take yer lousy filthy crystal and sink with it for all I care, but the Seration Confederation will not have that ship. I won't allow them to get their filthy, connivin' hands on it. I don't know why the Confederation tried to rob it, an I don't know how they let it slip from their fingers, but for forty years I have been searching for it, and I finally found it.
"I broke into the ship and searched everywhere aboard her. I found no sign of life nor limb, nor corpse of me boy. I found yer cursed golden ship but not me lad. Now all me hope is gone, he's lost to me. Me tears and me dreams are all dried out like a desert. I only live for revenge, see, I refuse to let the Seration Confederation have the ship. They want it like flies want flesh, but I made up me mind to double cross ‘em, and to trade it to the only man strong enough to take on the Seration Confederation and rob her away. That's why I called ye, an now ye be here. Do you happen to have twenty million in crystal layin' about?"
With those revealing words Ingild the Lesser bolted out of the room and ran down the hall. The other two stood in confusion and shook their heads with pale white faces. Cridoa didn't even try to stop them as they, too, ran out after him.
"And why would I bring another twenty million in crystal to bargain for a ship I already paid fifteen million digits to get?"
"Ah, ye want t' know what ye'll be getting for an extra twenty million in untraceable crystal?" He laughed as he looked at Captain Justo intently. "Ya give me a chance to live, that's what ye get. When the Confederation discovers I traded the Isian to ya I'll be slaughtered before they ever sentence me to life imprisonment. Either way it'll be death to me. Never again will I sail the wide open reaches of space a free man. But what does that matter? Died I did when me son was taken from me. Tis only now have I begun to live, these last few moments."
"I didn't come to start a war. I came with legitimate papers. I paid with digits through your official Seration Central Bank. I brought my son along to get acquainted with the future duties of the ship's captain."
"Aye, now ye see why I need an extra twenty million in crystal." The old man laughed. "I won't see any of the digits ye paid me through the Seration Central Bank, and I have to make good on a lot of bribes. The rest of the crystal, let's just say it's going to a worthy cause. I've bribed a judge to give me a lesser sentence if I'm caught, but I'm not sure he'll honor the bribe. But I know this, if I don't hand it over, It'll be the end of me, right?"
"This is madness! The Admiral exclaimed. "I cannot pay you bribe money. I am Isian. I cannot make deals in the shadows."
"Yet here ye be." The old man smiled, "Ye know our laws be corrupt. Ye know who we are and why we do what we do. Why do ye act so surprised, dear Admiral? But if ye be surprised then be quick about it. Me three worthy cohorts weren't in on me little plot. No doubt, they're rushin' to turn me in as we speak. They're squealin' on me for the reward money, I suspect, or maybe for the chance to stay alive. That's the biggest reason, I think. I don't blame ‘em. So you'd better made a decision. Do ye finish the trade, and send me to prison, or do ye not make the trade and see me surely die? I be in yer hands."
A few seconds passed in darkness and then a light came into Admiral Justo's eyes. "I refuse to change the original terms of our agreement. I will not pay you so much as a single crystal for the ship; especially if it's to be used in bribery and illegal activities. However, I am growing rather fond of this desk. I know you are a savvy trader of antiquities and would not part with it for under, say twenty million."
The old man smiled and watched as the Admiral took out a bag of crystal balls, counted out twenty million in crystal and handed them to him. The old man reached into his dirty pocket and revealed his own crystal ball and rolled it on the desk to Captain Justo. "That's a good admiral, ye are. How many men carry around in their pocket a fortune grand enough t' make five hundred men stinkin' rich? Ye be everythin' ye're supposed to be and more. And just so ya don't think I don't appreciate a man o' yer reputation, I made a log of everythin' I know about the capture of the Isian, those long forty years ago, and stored it on this crystal."
He carefully handed it to the Admiral. "I'm hopin' ya might use the ship to find me son, if ye get the chance, that is. If'n ye get out of Seration territory in one piece, right?"
"How much time do we have?" Captain Ezra Justo asked smartly as he put the title to the space ship safely in his coat pocket.
"I'd say about three days, if yer lucky, two days if yer unlucky and about four hours if everythin' turns out like I expect it to."
"Then we don't have a moment to lose."
"Good luck then." The old man chuckled. "I'm sorry ye have to run. An don't forget yer desk. Tis a shame, I liked that desk."
"Twenty million in crystal!" Marion exclaimed once they were securely inside their own transporter. "Why would you have twenty million in crystal ready to give to a Seration Pirate? I thought you said this was a normal business negotiation?"
"It's family business." The Admiral said solemnly as they sailed at half port speed toward the salvage bay where the space ship was stored. "The Isian isn't an ordinary space ship, son, it's our family's most valuable possession. Inside that ship is centuries of irreplaceable craftsmanship, art and history. That would be worth risking our lives for alone, but there's more, our family's honor is on the line.
"When you grandfather lost the Isian to the Seration Pirates on his first voyage forty years ago, he lost his dignity with it. He was so discouraged he gave up space vortex travel and forbade any of his sons from ever working in space again. Out of six sons, your Uncle Aaron and I are the only ones who disobeyed his wishes and became Star Admirals. Our family honor is on the line. I would have given the old trader a hundred-million in crystal if he would have asked for it."
When they drew close to the salvage bay they were joined by two other small transport ships. One was a barge from the Salvage Space Station, and the other was a Schooner from the Argo, Admiral Justo's star ship. The salvage barge verified the impound release order and authenticated the salvage title. A few minutes passed uneasily, then the massive blast doors began to swing open. As they did, the lights from the salvage barge shone on a dark shrouded vessel. When the doors were fully opened, the space barge slowly entered the bay and unlocked the seal holding the Isian securely to the space station. The ship drifted freely, without power, and needed the help of the salvage barge to keep it from hitting the sides of the bay. The salvage barge steadied the dead ship and slowly pulled it out of its hiding place. Several crew members exited the barge in space suits and jet packs and floated to remove the covering that veiled the condition of the ship.
Marion's heart raced. This was the first time they had a chance to look at the impounded star ship. The hidden shape the ship began to take form as sheets of protective padding were stripped away from the hull. Piece by piece the cover was removed revealing a spectacular, perfect star ship. It was breathtaking. Instead of being made from industrial-grade gold like the Argo, the Isian was crafted with the highest grade of fine ceremonial gold. It was made after the ancient Alfa Class design, with swept back wings and an arcing tail rising high above the body of the ship.
"Did you know the Isian was Alpha Class?" Marion asked his equally excited father.
"I did," The Admiral confirmed, "and a lot more. Your grandfather inherited the Isian forty years ago after the tragic, early death of your great grandfather. He tried to complete his father's last scheduled mission and lost the ship to Seration Pirates on his very first voyage. It was such a shock he refused to captain another ship. I asked him about it once when I was ten and I received a spanking like I'd never experienced before. He was mortified by his behavior and said I could ask any question I wanted, but I was too hurt to ask. This situation is already more complicated than I ever imagined."
He closed his eyes for a second and then put his hand on Marion's shoulder. "I shouldn't have brought you along; your mother would be frantic if she knew how much danger we are in."
"I can handle this, I know a lot more about piloting a star ship than you give me credit for. I can do this," his son insisted.
"I believe you can. That's why I agreed to let you come. I needed someone I could trust with my life. There is a Seration Star Destroyer three days time bound from here. They have long range fighters that could be here in twenty-four terra hours if they wanted to send them. They also have fighter probes that could make the voyage sooner than that. I don't know how badly the Seration Confederation wants the Isian. From the words of
Cridoa, and the look in the eyes of those three in the negotiation room earlier today, they’ll stop at nothing until they get it.
"We have to tie the Isian to the Argo and sail her far enough away to give us time to get her ready to pass through the Chanson Vortex. Any vortex will suit our purposes, but I think the Chanson Vortex is flowing at the strongest frequency right now. While the rest of the crew get the tow bar attached to the ship, I need you to be inside the ship to initiate the start up sequence. Once the command center computers are booted up we can see what kind of damage we have. There is a chance the vortex drives are still operational. If they are, I need you to get them ready. Suit up, I need you in there now." Marion got out of his seat and slipped on his silver, airless coat. He was about to don his helmet when an explosion rattled the Argo's small shuttle craft. He looked out the window and saw a portion of the space station erupt in flames and spew metal and glass into the airless night. The salvage workers also saw the explosion. Without removing the remainder of the protective coverings off the Isian, they quickly jetted to the salvage barge, entered the stout craft, unhooked it from the Isian and darted away toward the wounded space station.
"We're on our own," Admiral Justo yelled over his communicator to the Argo. "Major Alden, get the Schooner in position; we're going to have to tug the Isian away from the space station ourselves. Send a crew out to remove the rest of the covering. We don't have much time." He turned to his son and gave a few more desperate commands. "As soon as we have the ship secured by the Schooner you get in there and check out the vortex drive. I'm heading back to the Argo to get the tow bars ready. Can you do this?"
Marion nodded his head and looked out the window only to see another portion of the space station rock in a massive explosion. "They'll be after us next," the Admiral lamented. "I hope that twenty million in crystal was enough. I should have given Cridoa more to bribe his own staff. Go now Marion, I'll see you back at the Argo. Please be careful. That's an order."
Marion secured his round helmet and floated his way to the back of the ship. He closed the air lock and unlatched a jet pack from the side of the bay. Donning the pack he took a mighty lunge from the bay door. He aimed all his weight for the x on the back of the shuttle which opened like the iris of an eye when he came close to hitting it. He floated into open space and activated the jet pack which whined into full life.
"I'm ship-bound, Admiral," the young Justo announced. "Permission to captain the Isian?" "Permission granted." His father responded through his helmet communicator. "Your voice patterns are now programmed to activate all systems on the Isian. You are the captain. Good luck."