In the afternoon the civilian trader Santa Marguerita sailed innocently into Hamilton Port, a crippled military craft in tow.
“Just thought we’d give this lady in distress a lift,” signalled the small, dark-haired captain to the harbour authorities. The river-boatmen converged on the strange twosome, helping with the untying of ropes from the screw of the Hun. Quite a few of the military men and women peered curiously up into the Santa Marguerita’s rigging at that strange boxy structure.
Captain Miller got onto the leading T-craft. She was wearing a grin a mile wide.
“Gomez, we’ve done it! Look! That ship is the Solar Wind!”
“The Solar Wind? That ship is the Santa Marguerita,” argued Gomez. “Well known private trader. Their record is spotless. You’re lucky they’re the ones who picked you up, Captain!”
“It’s the Solar Wind,” insisted Anya Miller. “We tracked her down and got into a battle. Very nearly sank her. Came a bit short, but here she is.” She fired an impatient glare at the T-craft captain. Gomez. Not one of her hand-picked ones. But he’d have to comply anyway.
Captain Stefano Gomez regarded her with narrowed eyes. That sounded like a wild yarn! He had seen who was towing whom! Besides he knew what Lascek looked like – and the Captain of the trader didn’t look like Lascek in any way! What was Anya Miller playing?
Gomez had been placed under Miller’s command for the duration of this project. He was the commander of the Stab craft in the harbour. Technically he ranked higher than she; how she had achieved this reversal of the power structure, he wasn’t quite sure. It certainly reeked of some unethical goings-on. He wasn’t too happy about it; Anya seemed unstable to him.
He punched a few more buttons. “No, Captain, sorry, that ship is definitely not the Solar Wind but the Santa Marguerita. The identity checks out.”
“Captain Miller, you have an obsession. You’ll never get this past Head Office. You can’t arrest the nearest civilian and try to palm them off to Head Office as the Pirate. I’ve been observing you and reading up, Miller. This is not the first time you’ve abused Unicate resources. But you aren’t getting me entangled in that, lady! I’m booking you off, as of now, and putting it down to a nervous breakdown. Three weeks reprieve in a top nerve retreat sound good to you?”
“No,” shouted Anya Miller, finally boiling over. “That does not sound good! It sounds like subversion, mutiny! I’ll report you to Headquarters! The notorious pirate Radomir Lascek is aboard that vessel over there!” Her voice was striking a hysterical coloratura as Gomez’s fingers moved calmly over the keyboard. “I found him, I, me, me! I want to turn him in to the authorities! I want to collect my reward! You’re not sabotaging me, you nobody!”
“I’ve just booked you for a stay on the Canaries, Miller. Subtropical island paradise, all expenses paid courtesy the Unicate Navy. Three weeks.”
Anya Miller tackled Gomez and tried to choke him. Two of his marines had to take her away forcibly and organize her into the harbour’s private nerve clinic for observation. Gomez cancelled her island holiday again.
He peered at the outline of the white Zephyr that had rescued her. What a mindboggling hag that Miller was! He couldn’t believe she had tried to turn in a civilian who had just saved her and her crew! His First Mate Gina Nevada re-emerged out of hiding from the minute galley compartment. She levelled a gaze at the trader that was sailing out of Hamilton Port.
“What are they doing now?”
“They’re removing something...” Gomez trained his lenses on the ship. He started laughing.
“What?” asked Gina.
“It is the Solar Wind!”
“They’ve saved that Miller harpy’s life,” said Gina.
Gomez smiled. “Shall we give her a decent head start?”
“We’re going after her?”
“Sure! That’s a lot of money!”
The men on the Solar Wind were laughing too. Loudest laughed the Pirate Captain, back on his bridge.
Federi had withdrawn to his cabin. He sat cross-legged on his bunk, just staring, his fingers clenching and unclenching subconsciously. He felt sick. Captain could laugh now, but in his mind the gypsy could still see the horrible little black craft closing in all around the Solar Wind like spiders, Unicate marines crawling aboard, his friends being brutalized, gutted, murdered…
The trick had relied completely on psychology. But that wasn’t all. He had a hunch that though this prank had gone well, it had been the first sea mile on the long, dark voyage into oblivion.