they were breaking hard to close the distance. They waited several minutes, then Drakwin repeated his message, and this time they got a reply almost immediately.
Someone from Paradise, speaking in carefully articulated syllables, said, “Please identify yourself again.” They broadcast audio only, no video.
Drakwin snarled, “I am Raul the Damned of the Mexak League. Prepare to be boarded.”
The voice that came out of the com said, “A Syndonese pirate! You gotta be kidding.”
“I’m not just any Syndonese pirate,” Drakwin said. “I’m Raul the Damned. And I answer to no man but the devil and the Mexak League.”
Shit, Charlie thought. We’ve created a monster. It had been his idea that Raul should be part of an association of pirates, which they decided to call the Mexak League.
“What do you want?” the fellow demanded, his voice cracking with tension.
The fellow sounded nervous and tense, but not afraid. A crewman on a ship being attacked by bloodthirsty pirates should be just plain scared, and his lack of fear raised Charlie’s suspicions.
Drakwin demanded, “I ask the questions here. Identify yourself.”
“Well, Captain Chambers, as I said before, heave to and prepare to be boarded.”
“You can’t do this. We’re law-abiding people here.”
Charlie switched his com feed to The Headsman’s command channel. “Darmczek, he’s stalling, probably got his crew rushing to prepare an up-transit. Stand by to put another shot across his bow.”
“Aye, Your Grace.”
Charlie leaned over to Drakwin and whispered the same message in his ear.
Drakwin spoke over the com link. “Chambers, I’m beginning to think you’re not hearing what I say.”
Charlie had to crane his neck to see Darmczek amidst the instrument clusters and duty stations in the cramped confines of The Headsman’s bridge. Charlie nodded, and a second later heard the thrum of her main transition batteries as they fired another shot across Paradise’s bow.
“Okay, okay,” Chambers shouted. “Okay. What are you going to do with us?”
“That’s better,” Drakwin said. “We’re going to board you. We’re interested in valuables, not people. If there’s any resistance, you’ll pay a heavy price in lives.”
The Headsman had two small gunboats in a hangar bay below decks. Charlie and Drakwin joined Roacka there along with a selected group of spacers who knew how to fight in close quarters. Roacka had chosen to dress Drakwin and a few of his lieutenants in something similar to trampsie attire, loud, flamboyant, and colorful. “Can you swagger?” Roacka asked the Syndonese.
Drakwin rolled his eyes. “I’m Syndonese. What do you think?”
For the rest of them they’d dug up shipboard fatigues in as many different colors as possible, spotted them up with a splash of machine oil here and there, tore a few small holes in them, and sewed patches elsewhere. And for the finishing touch, none of them had shaved for the past three or four days. They made for a rather scruffy looking bunch.
Charlie would play the role of one of Drakwin’s lieutenants, and since he might be recognized, he, like most of the boarding party, wore light combat armor, with a helmet and face shield that would hide all but mouth and chin. And as an intimidation tactic, just to ensure that no one on Paradise decided to play the hero, Charlie added to the boarding party four marines in heavy, powered combat armor, each carrying large-caliber grav rifles.
It took Darmczek two hours to match Paradise’s vector and close the distance between them to a few kilometers. They managed to cram the forty heavily armed members of the boarding party into the two boats without serious crowding.
Once on board Paradise they herded all passengers and crew into the main dining salon. Drakwin ordered Chambers to give Charlie a copy of the passenger manifest. He strutted back and forth in front of the crowd while the rest of the boarding party searched them carefully, taking jewelry and any kind of valuables they found; they had to keep up appearances.
The mercenaries guarding Arthur were Charlie’s main concern, but as with all mercenaries, their primary loyalty lay with themselves, and when it became clear no one would be harmed as long as no one resisted, they surrendered their weapons peacefully. As they searched each passenger Charlie checked them off the passenger manifest, and, of course, when they were done one name remained.
Charlie and Drakwin played out a little drama they’d rehearsed. Charlie stuck the passenger manifest in front of Drakwin’s nose. Charlie spoke Syndonese; Drakwin had carefully tutored him to ensure his accent was accurate.