There was a long pause.
“But I am prepared to deal with you,” he added reluctantly. “If you surrender without further ado, I will transport you to the nearest inhabited world. You will face trial there, rather than be summarily executed in space. I believe they will offer you the chance to pay your debt to society rather than execute you on the spot. That’s the best offer I will make, and it will be withdrawn soon. I suggest that you choose quickly.”
“Right,” the pirate voice said. The pirate sounded as if he didn’t believe the offer, but judging from the noises in the background, discipline on the pirate ship was starting to break down. The younger pirates, in particular, knew that they were looking at a very short and nasty future that would end with them taking a short walk out of an airlock without a pressure suit.
Roman smiled.
“And what guarantee do we have that you will keep your word?” the pirate asked.
“The word of a Federation Navy officer?” Roman offered. “The fact is, you really don’t have a choice. You either take the chance at life I’m offering, or you die for certain when I run out of patience and blow your little ship into debris. Which do you choose?”
There were the sounds of more argument on the pirate bridge, followed by the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. Roman guessed that the previous captain had just been gunned down by his own crew.
“We wish to surrender, Navy,” a new voice said. “What do you want us to do?”
Roman allowed himself a moment of relief before ordering them to lower their shields, deactivate their weapons and de-power their ship’s drives. After they did so, he commanded, “Disarm your crew and have them wait for inspection in the rear hold. Any resistance of any kind will be met by lethal force. There will be no other warnings.”
“Yes, sir,” the pirate said, sounding relieved. “We will comply.”
Roman scowled. The Federation Navy’s policy on pirates wasn’t in place just because it was logistically easier to execute the pirates on the spot rather than dragging them to the nearest planet for a trial. It was possible that the nearest planet’s leadership might have agreements in place with the pirates, as poorer colonies needed supplies and weren’t always too choosy about where they came from. Handing the pirates over to the local governor was sometimes a way to ensure that they’d be freed and allowed to return to piracy. And besides, they knew that the pirates were guilty. No Naval court would do anything other than stamp ‘fully approved’ on the execution certificates.
He keyed the intercom.
“Elf, we have some prisoners for you,” he said. “Board and secure the ship, then check out the hostages. We’ll set up care for them on board Midway if necessary.”
“Aye, sir,” Elf said. There was a dull clunk in the background as the Marine shuttles detached themselves from Midway. “We’re on our way.”
Roman braced himself for last-minute treachery as the Marines flew toward the pirate ship. They were protected by ECM and shields, but even weapons dating all the way back to the First Interstellar War would easily be able to pick off the Marine shuttles. The pirate ship would never survive the barrage Roman would throw at it in response, yet Elf and two platoons of Marines—and the hostages—would still be dead. The pirates might suspect that he meant to trick them, or believe that they’d never see the light of day again; anything could push them over the edge. Pirates were simply not rational.
“We’re boarding now,” Elf’s voice said, in his ear. “No sign of resistance yet…”
“Good,” Roman said.
On the live feed, pirates were swiftly secured by the Marines, their hands cuffed after a rough search and the removal of anything that could be used as a weapon. The remaining pirates—wonder of wonders—had followed orders. Elf and her team rapidly arrested them and left them to cool their heels in their own cargo bay. It didn’t take any DNA testing to determine that these were the pirates responsible for the attack on the liner. The look on their faces was enough.
The Marines moved on to the hostages, who had been stowed into one of the other holds and a handful of cabins. Roman suspected that most of them were enthusiastic supporters of Admiral Justinian, but they’d probably be grateful to be rescued by anyone at this point. And if gratitude didn’t make them talkative, ONI would inject them with truth drugs and strip them of anything worth knowing. There didn’t seem to be any reason why some of the captives had been separated from the others. None of the female captives, at least, had been raped, although it was certain that they’d been threatened with it if they refused to cooperate, or if their relatives refused to pay the ransom. They would probably be delighted to see the Federation Navy.
Elf buzzed him on their private line.
“Captain, I believe that you should see this one personally,” she said. There was something odd in her voice. “One of the captives is far more important than we thought.”
“They didn’t capture Admiral Justinian himself, did they?” Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh, no,” Elf said. “They captured his daughter.”
“Pardon?” Roman blinked. “What the hell was she doing there?”
Over three hundred hostages had been rescued from the pirate ship The Black Knife, creating an immediate humanitarian crisis for Roman and his crew. Most of the hostages hadn’t been injured or mistreated, but they did want to go home as soon as possible, particularly the ones who suspected that ONI wanted a few words with them. They couldn’t all be accommodated on Midway, creating a minor problem until the engineering crew re-activated some of the space liner’s passenger compartments. The Harmonious Repose might have been disabled, but she made an adequate passenger space—and a prison for the pirates. Roman wasn’t about to leave them on their own vessel.
He looked through the monitor into the holding cell. Henrietta Beauregard-Justinian had been separated from the other hostages on the pirate ship—clearly, the pirates had known who she was—and Roman had ordered her kept in isolation. She was a remarkably pretty girl, barely out of her teens, with long blonde hair and an utterly perfect face. Her file stated that she had been engineered to fit the fashion of her birth time, a technique rarely available to anyone outside the upper class. The RockRats rarely engineered their children for looks.
And she was under sentence of death.
Roman scowled as he studied the oddly composed girl. The Senate had passed decrees ordering that anyone related to Admiral Justinian and the other warlords was to be killed on sight, with their properties seized and their personal effects confiscated. If he handed her over to Admiral Mason, Henrietta would be executed before she had a chance to beg for her life—indeed, Roman knew that his orders suggested that he should execute her himself. And yet, she was too young to be involved in her father’s treachery. It wasn’t right that she should die for his actions.
He looked over at Elf, to see her looking at him speculatively.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. There was no one else in the compartment. Henrietta was guarded by an armoured female Marine, but she was alone in the holding cell. Roman understood how she must feel. “You want to save her.”
“Am I that predicable?” Roman snorted.
“You’re a decent person,” Elf said. She leaned forward until her lips were almost touching his lips. “Now tell me; are you willing to risk everything you’ve earned since you set foot on Enterprise to keep her alive?”