The Privateer

"You're clear, Mimsey-cake," The gravelly voice of Krog Militia Captain Stubs reverberated over the comms. He let out a thoughtful hmm. "Pretty ballsy, send assassins here. Freedom Republic gonna get fucked, they piss off Tallest."

"Yeah, the Commandant's got balls for days." Mims agreed. "If you see any more ships like mine, be careful. They've got a gun that shields don't stop."

"We kill 'em quick," Captain Stubs assured him. "Stubs out."

The fleet moved off, positioning itself closer to the Gate. Yvian assumed they would attempt to intercept any human style ships that arrived. Long range sensors showed several similar fleets moving to positions at the other Gates in the system. Yvian didn't know how effective they would be against the speed and MACdrivers of Gladiator class fighters, but the mere fact the Krog took the threat seriously made her feel a little better.

Krog Prime was a shadow of what it used to be. Of the thousands of stations that had taken root in the sector, only a handful remained. New stations were under construction, but they numbered in the dozens, and mostly seemed to be military installations. Movers and Station Haulers idled near the new stations, deploying materials and drones to aid the construction process. The entire system was riddled with scattered debris, of Krog and Klaath alike. Cargo haulers and tugs had managed to clear paths between the different stations, and were making steady progress sweeping the debris near the planet, but millions of ships and thousands of stations made for a lot of clutter.

Still, the damage was much less than it could have been. The Gates were intact, and the planet itself had been protected. The massive Militia Headquarters station had survived, and appeared to have taken over as a way station for shuttles moving to and from the planet. Just over a hundred fleets, ranging from twenty to three hundred ships, patrolled the sector, ready for trouble. The mass of weapons platforms and planetary defenses that orbited Krog Prime was now larger than before the attack. The Krog were rebuilding, and Yvian could hardly blame them if they chose to focus on their defenses before anything else.

Captain Mims set a course for the Militia Headquarters. "Lissa, how long before we can repressurize the ship?"

"Uh..." Lissa checked that status on her console. "About seven minutes."

"Good to go." The Captain stood. "Do it as soon the breaches are sealed. We've got about four hours before we reach the station, and I need to bake a cake."

"Hey, that's right," said Yvian. "We still haven't celebrated getting the humans to work with the Xill."

"Or getting our hands on a Lucendian ship," Lissa added.

"It's not for us," Mims told them.

"Then you're going to have to make two cakes," Yvian decided.

"You're not the boss of me."

"Three cakes," said Lissa. "I want chocolate and German chocolate."

"I'm not your personal chef." Mims folded his arms. Yvian pictured him glowering at them under his helmet.

"You made a deal," Lissa pointed out. "We get cake after every successful mission."

"I never agreed to that."

"It was implied," Yvian could hear Lissa's grin. "Besides, you love me too much to say no."

"No."

"Aww, don't be like that, Mimsey-cake," Yvian tutted. "We'll let you have a slice."

"Maybe even two slices," Lissa sweetened the deal. "Since you're Captain and all..."

The Captain sighed.

Four hours, two cakes, and several beers later, the Random Encounter docked at Militia Station 984. Mims and the pixens walked down the ramp. A small hover drone followed, carrying a box with a cake in it. Lissa and Yvian removed their helmets once they confirmed the bay was pressurized, but Mims kept his on. He planned to keep his face covered while he was on the station.

The walls of the docking bay were transparent, just like the pirate station's, and Yvian stared for a moment at the mass of people unloading boxes from the freighter in the bay next to them. A strange mix of krog and other species, working in unison. Their faces were blank, their movements mechanical. Slaves. Yvian shuddered.

Mims caught the direction of her gaze. "Yeah, you'll see a lot of that. Slaves make up most of Krog's labor force."

"I thought the Krog were all about efficiency," Lissa said, brow furrowed. "Wouldn't drones be more efficient?"

Mims shrugged. "They like having slaves."

"I thought the Krog were a meritocracy."

"They are." The Captain slapped a panel on the inner bay door. The door slowly opened. "As far as they're concerned, anyone who becomes a slave deserves to be one. Same goes for getting cheated, or murdered, or anything else. The strong survive. The weak deserve what they get." He paused. "The other species see them as brutes, and they are, but every krog you deal with will be competent, resourceful, and dangerous. Anyone who isn't is a slave. Or dead."

"That's..." Yvian pursed her lips. "That's pretty evil, isn't it?"

"They like us." Mims shrugged. "That doesn't mean they're nice people."

They stepped into the airlock. The big doors closed behind them. The second set of doors slowly hissed open. A figure stood before the entrance. Female. Pixen. It couldn't be...

"My girls!" Yasme Kiver stepped into the airlock, smiling, arms outstretched. Yvian shot backwards, away from the woman. Lissa wasn't as quick to process the shock of recognition, and found herself wrapped up in a hug.

"Mother!?" Lissa sputtered. "What- What are you doing here?"

"I came to see my girls," Yasme let go of Lissa, reaching for Yvian. Yvian backed further away, hands raised to ward her off. Yasme looked... young. Younger than Yvian. The lines, the bags under her eyes, the skin damaged by stress and drugs and too much makeup had disappeared, replaced by smooth vitality and the shine of youth. Yasme looked more like Yvian's teenage sister than her mother. Former mother. She had the same oval face, wide eyes, and slightly pointed chin. The same height, and similar figure, though Yasme was soft and willowy where Yvian was more lean and muscular. They all had the same shiny emerald hair, but Yvian kept hers short, in what Mims laughingly called a pixie cut. Lissa's fell down her back in a silky cascade, but Yasme's hair was done up in an elaborate series of curls nearly half a meter high.

Of course, instead of a voidsuit, Yasme Kiver wore as little as possible. The traditional garb of adult entertainment. The strips of cloth she did wear were of the highest quality, and studded with precious gems.

"I'm not your girl," Yvian reminded her.

"Oh don't give me that," Yasme waved away her objection. "I gave birth to you didn't I? Raised you? I'm you mother."

"You literally aren't." Yvian glared. "You declared me motherless, remember?"

"I was grieving!" Yasme huffed. "I thought you were dead."

"So you mourned us by striking her name from the Registry?" Lissa glowered. "You made her a pariah."

"It was an honest mistake." Yasme sniffed. "But that doesn't matter now. Look at you! The saviors of Krog Prime. Look how far you've come." The smile came back. "You girls make me proud!"

Lissa didn't quite sigh. "Why are you here?"

Yasme's eyes widened. "What do you mean, why I am I here?" She took on an expression of mild outrage. "Can't a mother celebrate her daughters' success?"

"You never have before," Lissa told her. "What do you want?"

Yasme held her gaze for a few moments, keeping her face innocent. Finally she let out a huff.

"Fine," she pouted. "I wanted to talk to you about my stipend."

"Your stipend?" Lissa's eyes narrowed. "Did you burn through your allotment already?"

"The rejuvenation process was expensive," Yasme confirmed. "It was worth it though, right?" She smiled winsomely, spinning in place. "I mean, look at me. I'm beautiful again!"

Lissa frowned. "Your stipend amounts to two million credits a year. You seriously want more money on top of that?"

"Just a little," Yasme folded her arms. "A few hundred thousand. Just enough to tide me over til the stipend pays out again." She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow at Lissa. "I know you can spare that much, right?"

Lissa folded her arms, voice firm. "I set up the stipend for a reason. I'm not giving you more money."

"Now be reasonable," Yasme urged. "You can't leave your poor mother to languish in poverty, can you?"

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Lissa assured her.

"Why, you ungrateful little..." Yasme turned towards Mims. The human hadn't said a word. Hadn't even moved, as far as Yvian could tell. "You're the Captain, right? You talk to her. Tell her how important it is to take care of your family."

The Captain was silent for a moment. "Family?" he said slowly. "Yvain and Lissa saved billions of lives. They improved the reputation of your entire species, and they have made you, personally, rich. In return, you tossed Yvian out of pixen society and made Lissa an outcast by association. My crew does know the importance of family. You should learn from their example."

"Oh, what do you know?" she waved away his argument, glaring. "You're not a parent."

"Father of two."

"And I'll bet you never here from them either," Yasme snarled. "Ungrateful little shits..."

Mims moved so fast Yvian didn't have time to flinch. Yasme found herself a meter off the ground, pressed against a bulkhead. The Captain held her aloft with one hand around her throat.

"Mark!" Lissa started forward. The Captain's other hand shot out, one finger raised. Lissa stopped.

The human slowly turned his head to look up at Yasme. She gurgled, clutching at his wrist. Her eyes bulged in the reflection of his mirrored visor.

Yvian wondered for a moment if Yasme was going to die, and if she should stop it. If she could stop it. The Captain was a far better fighter than she was. If he was so angry he was willing to use voidarmor enhancements in public....

No one in the Confed knew what the GR17s could do. Mims had been adamant that they keep it that way. Not only was it a tactical advantage, but it kept the government and various corporations from trying to kill them and take the things for reverse engineering. Also, he'd hinted the Terran Federation would kill them if they "let the cat out of the bag."

Before she could make a decision, Yvian noticed a slight tremor in his arm. Mims wasn't using enhancements. He was in control. She wasn't sure if that meant she should be more scared for Yasme or less, but she decided not to interfere.

"You are alive," the Captain spoke, cold as the void. "Because killing you would upset my crew. If you insult my family again, if you even mention my sons, that will not be enough to save you."

Yasme continued to clutch at his wrist. She was turning purple. After staring up at her for a few more seconds, Mims asked. "Do you understand?"

Yasme tried to answer, choking gagging noises were all that came out. "Don't speak," Mims told her. "Just nod."

Yasme nodded frantically. The Captain glared up at her a moment longer, then let go. She thumped down on the deck, retching and gasping for air.

Mims calmly walked out the airlock. His cake bearing hover drone followed close behind. "Come on, ladies. We're done here."