The Star Pirate's Folly

Chapter 33: Pressure

"Myra, what's going on?" Bee called as she hurried to the bridge, darting through an open bulkhead door.

"Nothing to worry about, kiddo," came Myra's chipper ambient voice. "I would have sounded the alarm. Why don't you just go eat your breakfast? All that food's gonna go to waste!"

Bee slowed to a confused walk. "But where is everyone?"

"You've got nothing to worry about, Buttercup. Go on and eat, the others will join you shortly."

"Why won't you answer me?"

Myra said nothing.

Bee's heartbeat picked up. The computer wouldn't answer a direct question—she was hiding something. Dread grasped her by the throat and squeezed. Talking to Myra felt different ever since the Captain took her offline and tweaked her. Bee couldn't trust her the same anymore. No more favors.

"Where's the rest of the crew?" Bee asked.

"Please return to the dining room," said the AI in timid reply.

Defiant, Bee continued on her way until she found that one of the other doors between her and the bridge was shut. She grasped the wheel and tried to open it. Locked. Bee pounded on the dark metal. "Let me through!"

No response. She pressed her ear to the door but heard nothing. Desperate, Bee stepped back and kicked her heel against the door, shouting for someone to let her in. As she stepped back to prepare another kick the door swung open and Truly slipped through the gap as someone else sealed the door again behind him.

"Out of the way!" he said, shoving past her.

"What's happening!" she cried, chasing after the long-legged privateer as he sprinted headlong toward the nullroom.

Truly ignored her, rounded a corner, and the heavy clang of another bulkhead door slamming closed rang through the halls. It locked with a solid click. Near hysterics, Bee screamed with frustration and spun on her heel to return to the bridge.

#

"They're giving us video," Myra said.

"Put it in a window," ordered Captain Anson.

Myra opened a large window in front of the Captain, Silver, and Ferro. A video stream of Starhawk and his crew on the bridge of his warship played inside the borderless frame.

"I know you've got the map, Anson," Starhawk proclaimed with a grating laugh. "I'm sure you've already seen my boys behind you there. Here's my offer: stop now and give it to a grub named Tjarko when he catches up to you. Long as you give up that map we can part ways, but until I get it I won't stop coming for you. I know what you're looking for, Anson. You won't find it. But I'll find you."

The golden-armored pirate brought another man onscreen as Captain Anson and the others on Wanderlust's bridge watched in silence. The heavyset man was held up by two guards, his face bloodied and bloated. His head sagged to his chest, rolling off to one side as the guards adjusted their grip.

"I realize you're probably not convinced yet, but my friend here might be able to change your mind. You know who this is if you've been watching the news. That Surface girl you've got working with you—she knows this porker too, from the hotel. So unless you want to see how he holds up in zero pressure—or maybe something more creative, don't hold me to that—you'll do as I say. Isn't that right, my friend? Tell them."

Hargrove groaned and raised his head with some difficulty. "Buttercup," he slurred almost incoherently, "do as he says. Please save me, Buttercup. Give them what they want."