Wanderer

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“Captain, the last batch of prisoners are on the freighter you chose, the Reliable,” Foster said. “We have control of the remaining freighters.”

“Good. Hackett, did you find anything unusual?”

“No, Captain. I would have told you if I did!” Hackett replied resentfully.

“I know. Sorry. I’m just jumpy. I don’t like losing ships at the best of times, and losing one like that… never mind. Have we found anything unusual with the cargo or engines of the other freighters?”

“No, Sir. Nothing. I’ve been analysing our recordings of the explosion, though, and I think I know what they did. Even at the end, when the engines were fluctuating badly, the containment fields were still running. But they were being used to prevent the engines blowing while increasing the instability, not to prevent the explosion.”

“I’ve never heard of that. Would it explain the size of the explosion?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ve never heard of it either, but I can’t think of any other explanation for the readings. You couldn’t program it either. Someone had to be doing it manually… right to the end.”

“Damn. Someone was b****y determined to ensure we took no prisoners from that ship. Can we spot if someone tries the same trick in the future?”

“Already programmed in, Captain,” Hackett replied with a smile.

“Good. Foster, any reason we can’t get out of here?”

“No, Sir. Are we taking the prisoners back with us or selling them on the way?”

“How many did we get in the end?”

“A little short of four hundred.”

“Far more than we can absorb, then. Set a course for Mufrid Prime. The farms there always need more labour.”

“Sir, the Gakarst mines are closer and will pay a lot more,” Foster said.

“No!” There was steel in Dash’s voice, and anger too. “Most of them would be dead within six months. I won’t have that on my conscience. They’ll have to work hard on the farms, but they’ll get fresh air and have at least a reasonable life expectancy. Set course for Mufrid.”

“Aye, Sir,” Foster replied hastily, turning away.

“Foster.”

Dash’s voice was quiet now. Foster turned back to him.

“We may not be angels, Foster, but we can choose not to be devils. We’ll make a handsome profit from this raid. We don’t need to top it up with blood money.

“Aye, Sir.”

Foster turned away again. Dash could tell he wasn’t convinced, but he would obey the order. Dash sat back in his seat, pondering yet again the difference between most of those he now led and the few who had started out with him. He couldn’t blame them. Everyone who ended up a pirate had a tale of hardship to tell. Many were once slaves themselves, or faced s*****y when circumstances turned bad, but that led to contempt for other slaves rather than empathy.

It was understandable. Empathy would lead to caring, and caring led to despair. The Empire was awash with slaves, trying to change that was impossible. Dash had seen many strong men and women destroyed by seeing the horrors of s*****y and having no way to stop it.

He’d come close himself in his early days of piracy, before accepting there was nothing he could do. Well, not quite. Dash had focused on the small things. Sparing a few people when he could, being choosy about where he sold people. When possible he took slaves back to base where the work was still hard, but reasonable food and even basic medical care would be provided.

It was an unusual way for a pirate to behave. Some had mistaken it for softness, in the early days. They had soon changed their mind, or died at Dash’s hands. His crew were fiercely loyal and disciplined, traits that were passed on to those who joined as time passed.

As the ships started to move off the pain of losing Dozer was like a blade stabbing in Dash’s chest. He felt the loss of every one of the original crew, but Dozer had been his closest friend. Heart aching, his thoughts went back to the fateful day that had changed everything.