Drake Legend Of A Space Pirate Ch 02

The

Aikaterne

was dead in the proverbial water. Captain Clio Penelope hefted her flechette pistol, observing the enemy vessel circling her disabled craft through a viewport.

Damn that pirate,

she thought. Where did he get a fully restored Imperial Cruiser from? And how could a torpedo bay on a ten thousand year old space hulk still function?

The pirate ship was closing in now. Probably they would move close enough to fire boarding tubes into the

Aikaterne's

port side. Then a flood of pirates would pour onto her ship, attempting to overwhelm the defenders. Their captain, the man who named himself Daman Laman Menelaus, had already declared his intention to enslave her entire crew.

Well, her crew would not be taken easily. Behind Clio her women were forming up, taking cover at their Captain's direction. They looked scared. Many of them were green; fresh out of fleet school, unprepared for the fate that awaited them. Even most of the more seasoned girls had little actual up close woman-to-man combat experience. The pirates, on the other hand, would be old hands at this sort of thing. Clio knew her crew would eventually be overwhelmed, but she was determined to make them pay for it at least. Where was Bertha? Of all the times for her to get the shits...

As she expected, four boarding tubes snaked from the side of the pirate vessel, impacting the hull of the

Aikaterne

with a loud *clang* followed by an ominous hiss as the acid drills on the end began to bore through the metal plating.

"Stand fast," Captain Clio commanded. "Remember, don't fire until you've picked a target. Keep your Ion Rifles on low or you might breach the hull and kill us all. Most importantly, don't panic. Stay in your line and keep firing. Understood?"

"Yes Captain!" came the corus of responses.

The hiss of the acid drills increased in volume as they breached the interior of the ship's hull. There was a *woosh* of air as the pressure differential of the two ships resolved, blowing back Clio's hair. The crew raised their rifles, preparing to fire. Seconds passed. No men came through the tubes to attack.

Something was wrong. Clio's instincts were warning her that something very bad was happening, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Why weren't the pirates attacking?

Then women began to collapse around her.

Gas,

she realized, too late. Her vision was already starting to dim.

Damn him. Could he really be...

Her legs folded under her and her mind fell into darkness.

Moments later I, Captain Daman Laman Menelaus, strode through the boarding tube to survey my prize. I would have cut a fairly dashing figure if anyone had been there to see, clad only in a loincloth, a pressure helmet and six and a half feet of muscles and scars. I looked right, then left, observing the line of unconscious Dominion flygirls. A pretty damn good haul, I thought.

Pirates like myself usually target the Dominion Military rather than civilians. This practice is not a result of any kind of "chivalry" or "honor" on our part, regardless of what you might read in erotic pirate novels. We target babes in uniform because they're usually young and physically fit, which means the percentage of them that are hot is pretty high.

My men were coming through the tubes behind me. First came the heavily armed JIC squad. I had planned to take the enemy crew without a fight, but I always keep one group of men on stand by in full assault kit 'Just In Case'. The JIC unit was led by Dugaar, an Ogaaran. He had to stoop low to fit his hulking frame through the boarding tube, though the other men in the squad were able to stroll through without difficulty. Dugaar swaggered up to me, looking around at the fine bevy of unconscious females scattered about the deck. "Well would ya look at that! You're plan worked Cap! All that thinkin' paid off. An' here I was sure we'd have to fight." Fighting comes naturally to Ogaarans, thinking does not. Dugaar was something of a genius among his own kind, which meant by Standard Human Phenotype standards he was of about average intelligence.

"My plans always work," I said, grinning up at him.

"Well, there was that one time," he countered.

"That won't ever happen again," I promised. "In any case, I need you to take the JIC squad and search the ship. Some of the crew might have escaped the gas. If they ambush us while we're hauling the cargo we could take some damage. Plus I don't want to leave any merchandise on the shelf."

"You got it, Cap." He barked orders to his squad. Soon the JICs were moving off through the ship's corridors.

We vented the gas, then brought in the rest of the

Drake's

crew to carry off our new guests. I saw one of the younger men caressing the posterior of one fine young flygirl, practically drooling as his fingers sank into her soft flesh. I was about to reprimand the young fellow when one of the older man slapped him on the back of the head.

"None of that now," chided the older man. "Carry her back to the ship lad, and be respectful!"

The young man looked understandably confused. "Respectful? But aren't we going to... you know, rape them? These are Dominion cunts!"

"We will," the veteran assured him. "We'll rape the shit out of these bitches... But not till they wake up. Until then, don't even think of copping a feel."

The younger man scratched his head. "Why not? I don't get it."

"Just do it, kid," said the older man. "That's just the way we do things on the

Drake

. If you really want to know why, ask the captain sometime." The two disappeared back into the tube, each carrying a woman over one shoulder.

The muffled *crack!* of an ion rifle sent a shiver down my spine. I swore loudly, running toward the noise. An ion rifle on it's highest setting could potentially breach the hull of a ship like this one. A small hull breach would ordinarily be more of an inconvenience than an actual danger, but the

Aikaternae's

systems were all offline, including the auto-seal functions. A hull breach could be very, very bad.

"JIC squad, report!" I barked into my shortwave comms.

"We've hit a spot of trouble, Cap," said Dugaar's voice in my ear.

"Can you handle it or should I call for reinforcements?" I asked.

"We got it. But we have wounded. One badly. I take full responsibility." There was a muffled voice in the background. "Oh shut up Esly. Just be grateful you still have one of your eyes."

Gods damn it. So much for my perfect victory. I switched my coms to the

Drake's

network. "Paging doctor Iliovich," I called. A moment later, a strongly accented voice answered.

"Hmm? What is it Captain? I have important experiment to run."

"Doc, it's time to earn your keep. We've got wounded over here."

"Oh. Yes. I am coming. Uh, how many patient?"

"Two. One badly injured."

"I am coming. Will commendier some of your men to help me carry patients, yes?"

"That's fine. Just hurry."

"Fast as I can, Captain."

I rounded a corner to find JIC squad taking cover behind a bulkhead. An arc rifle beam blasted through the doorway, searing the metal of the corridor about a foot from my head. I ducked behind the bulkhead as well, addressing Dugaar. "Isn't that one of our Ion Rifles?"

"Fraid so," the giant rumbled. He glanced around the doorframe for a moment, then ducked back swearing as an ion beam missed him by inches.

"You'll never take me alive, pigs!!" shouted the voice through the doorway. It was definitely a woman's voice, but... she sounded ugly. Really ugly.

"How did that happen?" I demanded.

Dugaar shook his head. "I had the men split up into pairs to search. She came on Esly and Jonu by surprise. Broke Jonu's back. I'm not sure he's gonna make it."

Esly came forward, clutching at the left side of his face, blood pouring between his fingers. "Damn bitch popped my eye like a grape," He poked his thumb out to demonstrate. "And grabbed my kit."

"So let me get this straight," I said. "A woman, that is, one

singular

woman ambushed the two of you, broke Jonu's fucking

spine

, put out your eye, and stole your rifle?"

"Yessir," Esly said. "Cept I ain't exactly sure she's a woman. More like a female gorilla."

I peaked around the bulkhead. Shipman Esly's assessment was fairly accurate. She stood in the interior chamber, brandishing the Ion rifle threateningly. The woman (I shudder to apply that word to this beast) was not particularly tall, but she was enormously fat. Somehow, despite her rotund girth she had almost no bust or hips to speak of. Her arms and shoulders bulged like a body builder's, and her dark, beady eyes stared with perpetual rage out of her pudgy face. Her hair was cut short and dyed a sickening shade of vomit-green. "Fear me, pirate SCUM!" she shouted. "For I am Bertha the Beast! I eat Rim Rats like you for breakfast, yum, yum!" She rubbed her fat belly.

Ugh.

"Emp her," I said to Dugaar.

"You sure, Cap? Ion Rifles don't exactly grow on trees you know. We could just wait for her to run out of ammo."

"We don't have time for this shit. Emp her and subdue. Don't kill her though. We might be able to get a good price for her if we sell her on Dyson. Those guys are always looking for manual laborers."

"If you say so." Dugaar took a chrome orb from his belt, depressing the activator. He tossed the sphere into the doorway. Nothing visible happened, but the stream of Ion fire pouring through the doorway suddenly stopped, to be replaced by a stream of angry profanities in that ugly voice. Dugaar cracked his knuckles. "I'm going to enjoy this," he rumbled, grinning. He stepped through the doorway, striding toward the ugly she-gorilla.

Bertha the Beast certainly was strong. Possibly she was the strongest Standard Phenotype female I had ever seen. But she was no match for a male Ogaaran. Dugaar grabbed her, hauled her ugly bulk into the air, and threw her into the wall. Then he kicked her across the room into the other wall. Then he punched her in the head with a fist that was about the same size as her skull. She stopped moving.

Dugaar breathed deeply, body quivering with the desire to do more violence. He mastered himself admirably. Ogaarans are mostly uncontrollable violent brutes who would just as soon kill as breathe. Dugaar, thankfully, is something of an exception. He can control himself... barely.

I examined the weapon the she-gorilla had dropped. The trigger mechanism was locked and the battery charge was dead. Dugaar's EMP grenade had rendered it permanently inoperative. Ion Rifles are military grade hardware and are not cheap. Thankfully we'd just seized a fully equipped Dominion Cruiser, so we could afford to lose a rifle or two.

I instructed one of the JIC squad to return to the breach point and guide Doctor Iliovich. The doctor arrived only a minute later, pushing a cart loaded with various medical sundries. I only really recognized the Medical Scanner Unit, a large blocky thing the size of a man's head.

Iliovich glanced around the cart, noting my presence. "Ah, captain." The ship's Doc of the

Drake

was a squirrly sort of fellow of medium height and slight build. He was a decade or so my senior, with wisps of grey at his temples. Despite his years, Iliovich was a new crew member, not from the old days. In fact, this was the first time I had occasion to call upon his services. He looked around. "Where is patients?" Oh, yes..." Spotting Jonu, he moved to the broken man's side, pulling the MSU behind him. He ran the scanner over his body, clucking worriedly. "Thirteenth and fourteenth vertebrae shattered. Fifteenth cracked. Bad, very bad."

I stepped up beside the doctor. "Is he going to make it?" I asked grimly.

Iliovich looked at me quizzically. "Make it? Make what?"

"Is he going to die or not?" I snapped, feeling somewhat peeved.

"Die? Oh no!" the old man laughed. "What is it you think you pay me for, Captain? Patient will make full recovery. Only meant that treatment would be difficult, take long time. Must reconnect nerves with nanites. Very delicate. Must be done in stages. Patient will be on feet in... a month? Two at most."

It was my turn to be surprised. "Reconnect his nerves with... nanites? You can do that?"

Iliovich rubbed his nose. "Certainly. I had feeling you underestimate my capabilities, Captain."

I had never even heard of that kind of treatment. If you had asked me, Jonu had even odds of dying within the hour or living on as a cripple. "What's a top rate doc like you doing on a pirate ship?"

"Is long story. First let me see other patient."

"Here, Doc," said Esly, moving forward eagerly.

Iliovich gently grasped the man's wrist, pulling his hand aside. "Ooof," he said, seeing the bloody ruin that had once been Esly's left eye. "Nasty. First I must take out broken eye." He made a plucking motion with his hand. "I do this now. Then later I use genetic material from extracted broken eye to grow new eye. Process take about 48 hours. Then..." He made a *pop* sound with his mouth while miming putting the eye back in Esly's head.

Esly looked impressed, but he said, "And here I thought I could get some kind of badass metal eye that shoots lasers or something."

Iliovich laughed. "Could do that if you prefer! But laser would be fairly weak. Also, eye would not be able to see."

Esly seemed to be seriously considering the laser eye. I wrapped my knuckles against his forehead. "He'll take the clone-eye, Doc," I said.

The young man grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, I suppose you're right, Cap."

The eccentric old Doctor went back to his medical cart and fetched a black box with a tube attached to it. At the end of the tube was what appeared to be a large suction cup. He attached this to the left side of Esly's face. "This will hurt, but only for moment. Brace self. I count down from five. Ready?"

Esly nodded, gritting his teeth.

"Five, One!" Iliovich shouted, and flipped a switch on the box. Esly screamed as the contraption hummed and emitted a nasty sucking sound.

After a moment he calmed. "Alright. Can I take this thing off my face now Doc?"

Iliovich shook his head. "Leave it for a moment. Better to clean socket completely to avoid infection." He turned to me. "I will answer your question now Captain. I was once personal physician for Tsar and family of Tsar on planet Petersburg."

I whistled. Petersburg is a Dominion Protectorate, neither a formal part of the Dominion nor of the lawless Rim. It was a fairly wealthy planet. "That sounds like a sweet gig. Why'd you leave?"

He grunted. "Was banished. Officially because of my experiments, but that is... how you say... bullshit. The Tsar, he knew all about my experiments for years. Funded them. Real reason is that wife of Tsar came to me for treatment of, uh... 'chronic sexual dissatisfaction'. She too was quite impressed with my medical skill and knowledge of anatomy."

I chuckled. "So you decided to become a doctor on a pirate ship?"

"Yes." He shrugged. "Pay is less than could get elsewhere, but pay is not that important. More important is freedom to do experiments. Speaking of that," He jerked a thumb at the unconscious form of Bertha the Beast. "Would like to use that one for experiments. She looks like good material."

"Really? Well you're welcome to that she-gorilla, but you have to promise me that your 'experiments' won't kill her. On the Drake, we follow the Pirate's code. No killing prisoners."

Iliovich held up his hand solemnly. "I swear. Do not worry. When I am finished she will be healthier than now, and also much more valuable to you."

I nodded. Just then the suction machine beeped, indicating it was done. The doctor handed Esly an eyepatch and instructed him to report to sick bay in 48 hours. Two of the men unfolded a stretcher and carefully loaded Jonu onto it.

"One more thing, Doc," I said. "When you have time I want you to run DNA test on our new 'guests'."

"Certainly Captain," replied the Doctor. "What will I looking for? Genetic diseases?"

"Ancestry," I clarified. "Correlated to Old Earth continents."

"I can do that of course, but why? Old earth was very long ago."

"It has to do with a favor for a friend," I said. "I need it done within the next week or so."

Iliovich shrugged. "Not a problem. But first must begin treatment of patients."

"Of course." The doctor led the men back to sick bay aboard the

Drake

. I went back to supervise the plundering of the

Aikaterne

of her weapons, her equipment, her fuel, and most importantly, her crew. I agreed with the good Doctor on one important thing: some things are more important than money.

--

Captain Clio Penelope's eyes fluttered open. As her vision came into focus I was the first thing she saw. I stood over her in a wide stance, my arms crossed, leering down at her naked body. Beside me knelt the two noble daughters Clio had been sent to rescue, Ciara and Aileen McCormick. Both sat submissively on their heels with their heads bowed, wearing only a thin chrome collar around their necks.

"You really are Daman the Dominator, aren't you?" Clio breathed.

"I am myself," I confirmed.

Clio looked down at herself, noting her own nudity. "I suppose I'm about to be ravished. Is it true that you devour women's souls?"

I laughed. "Perhaps in a metaphorical sense."

"I don't suppose I could persuade you to spare my women?"

"Look around," I instructed.

Clio turned her head, gasping. We were in the

Drake's

cargo bay. My ship's hold is outfitted specifically to carry one kind of cargo, and as such it looks more like a high-class bordello than a store room. Couches, devans, and reclining chairs were scattered throughout the room. Expensive carpets covered the floors. The walls were paneled with dark wood and a fire crackled in a stone fireplace. There was even a bar in the corner. The

Aikaternae's

entire 150 woman crew were all packed in. Unconscious women lay on every surface, filling the couches, the beds, the tables, and the floor. Only Bertha the Beast was missing, thankfully. A hundred of my men stood over them, leering eagerly at the feast of feminine flesh that surrounded them. Clio, the McCormicks and I were on a raised dais at the end of the room, a sort of small stage.

Clio sighed. "They trusted me, and I failed them. I led them into slavery without firing a single shot."

"If you want my opinion, I'd say you're a fairly decent officer, for a woman," I said. "What happened wasn't really your fault. You knew it was risky to pursue a pirate ship with only a single cruiser. You requested backup from fleet command, right?"

"They turned down my request," Clio confirmed. "Not enough womanpower to crew additional ships. I knew it was risky but I had no choice."

"For political reasons," I continued. "Dominion Fleet Command could hardly abandon the two daughters of the Governess of Eire to pirate scum. That would signal weakness. The protectorates have been getting uppity this past decade, and the Rim Warlords continually eye the rich inner worlds of the Dominion with greed and lust. No single enemy can pose a real threat to the Dominion. Even two or three together would be only a small challenge. But if enough forces were to strike at once... well, lets just say Fleet Command would not be capable of containing the situation. So you had no choice. You

had

to pursue us."

Clio nodded. "Yes. I understood the Fleet Command position and even agreed. But I knew the mission might be risky."

"Your misgivings were confirmed," I concluded. "You caught up to us and found our ship superior to your own. At that point you were screwed. Even if you had fired every weapon in your arsenal you and your women would only have earned a pointless death. The only choice you ever had in this whole affair was the one I gave you."