Epilogue Two - The Pirate Killer Queen

The Crevice, Ceres - Three Months Later

When things happened in the solar system that made entire governments scramble, there was always a ripple.

That ripple was felt across all tiers of life. The merchants tightened belts or started looking for opportunity. The common man found their goods more expensive, and their news more dire. The leaders of the world licked their chops as they smelled the blood of opportunity in the water.

But no one reacted with more glee than the pirates of Ceres.

The news had spread, in rumours and whispers. One of the larger, more established pirate groups had gone down recently, their station taken out in a massive fight.

How did it happen? The survivors weren't sure. Something about a merchant freighter, barely held together, coming in and disgorging a team of Martian elites. Or six squads of Earth Alliance commandos in power armour. Maybe it was a congregation from the Adeptus Ancillia... there was even a rumour, often mocked, that it was the Empress of Mars herself that had smashed those pirates around.

Obviously, that last one was a tall-tale. There were remains of the station still floating out there, and survivors.

Everyone who was anyone had seen the footage of the Empress letting loose on the Emperor of Earth around Uranus. Recruitment numbers into the Tech Maids of Mars were never higher as people had religious epiphanies.

The more rational saw it and silently hoped that they never had to face her attention themselves.

There was a moon out there with a crater large enough to park a fleet in, and that had been just one attack.

But the pirates of Ceres? Well, to them, it was all an opportunity.

War was good business. It would mean massive shipments of goods and supplies, some of them not as guarded as they ought to be. It would mean patrol ships pulled from civilian lines to keep military assets safe. Policing in the border regions would drop as governments around the system tightened the noose around the core worlds. There would be mercenary work aplenty.

If they wanted that work to be... somewhat fair and equitable, however, they needed to come to a common consensus.

There was a historical precedent. Back before the Second Intersystem War, a few big names in the pirate business had met, just like this. Some of them were attending today, even. Big names, like Happy Jack of the Smile That Bites, and the Lady Cryer of the Sorrow's Last Shot.

Younger, less blooded pirates were in attendance too.

In a way, this was one of the largest business conferences in the system. Hundreds of ships were swarming around the edge of the Crevice, overlooking one of the bigger entrances into the slice cut out of the middle of Ceres.

Pixie leaned forwards.

Behind her was the main conference room, a sort of open arena with artificial gravity keeping everything down. Rows of seats on platforms that rose up in concentric circles around a central podium with seating for the five greatest pirates of the age.

"That's a lot of ships," Twenty-Six said.

"Mhm," Pixie agreed. She smiled as she looked out through a foot-thick window into the busy void of space.

There were old Earth Alliance warships, some retrofit freighters, even a few old cruisers from the Second Intersystem War. The biggest, most impressive vessels were parked nearby, however.

The Smile That Bites, a heavy super-freighter that was nearing fifty years of service. It was covered in heavy cannons and guns, its holds retrofitted to carry two dozen snub-fighters.

The Sorrow's Last Shot, a Martian frigate that had been elongated at the front to carry a single battleship-sized railgun.

Then there was the Mutiny, an Earth Alliance heavy cruiser that had changed hands nine times already. It was painted in the flaking colours of six pirate bands.

A Kiss Before Dying was a Jovian cruiser, recently stolen. Very recently, in fact. It was likely one of the newest ships here, and was relatively well-equipped due to its age.

And then, the largest vessel here, the shining jewel of this party. The Long Goodbye. It was an Earth Alliance battlecruiser. One of only three ships made in that pattern, and lost during a skirmish with the Empress of Mars.

Mostly lost.

The ship's carcass had been taken, renamed, and rebuilt over twenty years. It was now an armour-covered behemoth, likely one of top ten heaviest ships in the entire solar system, and it alone accounted for a sizable amount of pirate firepower.

"This thing is a real who's who, isn't it?" Pixie said as she turned around and allowed her back to rest against the railing. The gathering was assembling. The pirate lords of the ships she'd mentioned had pride of place in the centre. Others were taking their seats where they could find them. There were definitely groups and cliques forming up, and some were glaring at each other.

Still, the mood was jovial and upbeat. This much firepower in one place would give even a Martian Imperial Star Dreadnought a bit of pause.

This was the very last place that Pixie ever thought she'd find herself. More like... she expected to hear about this through the grapevine, as something terrible had happened and which would mean a lot more work, and a lot more risk, for the bounty hunters of the system.

A man stood up. The organizer of this event. He was skinny, and dressed in a dapper suit in the fashion of the upper echelons of Martian society. He raised a glass, then tapped a combat knife to the side of it.

A microphone picked up the gentle clink of steel on crystal, and the room quieted.

"Brothers, sisters, and various ne'er-do-wells," the man said, his voice carrying across the chamber, smooth and rich as velvet soaked in blood. "Welcome to the Conference of the Cutthroats."

Pixie folded her arms, watching carefully. Twenty-Six shifted at her side, glancing around with a nervous energy she recognized all too well. They were deep behind enemy lines. All it would take was one curious glance, one bad memory, and things could get messy.

"Our agenda is simple," the man continued. "The governments of Earth and Mars are distracted. The moons are fighting over bones. And out here, in the wide black sea, there is no law but what we make."

"That's Jack, right?" Twenty-Six whispered.

"It is. Former Martian high-society turned pirate. He's Phobian," Pixie muttered.

"Like Aurora? Oh, I bet she's going to regret not being here."

"It's fine," a smooth, silky voice said from behind them. "I'll share the gossip with her."

Pixie glanced over her shoulder and couldn't help but smile. Ivil was leaning against a railing over a drop down a number of floors with her feet planted on thin air, but her girlfriend, as usual, didn't seem to care much for what gravity demanded. "I was starting to get worried," Pixie said.

"Nonsense," Ivil replied. "I'm sure you could take care of this rabble without me."

Pixie sniffed. "Maybe... in my fighter. I'd maybe last a few seconds with all those ships out there."

"I still think she could have come," Twenty-Six said. "Just... wear a wig or something?"

Twenty-Six hadn't even worn a costume, just her comfortable old mechanic's jumpsuit. Pixie herself was in a skintight pilot's outfit... It was a little embarrassing to be out and about in something so very suggestive of what was underneath, but she had a cool leather coat on, and she did like the way Twenty-Six kept looking at her rear when she thought Pixie wasn't noticing.

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"It's fine," Pixie replied as she focused on the moment. Time for that later.

Jack gave the crowd a moment to settle before he launched into a speech, one hand dramatically outstretched.

"Friends, enemies, and future victims," he said, voice slick. He could have called a wheelbarrow a warship and sold it to an admiral with that kind of voice. "We stand at the cusp of a golden age. War brews among the great powers, and where there is war, there are fortunes to be made. Planets will burn, colonies will starve, and we, the proud scavengers of humanity's excess, shall feast!"

That got a roar of approval.

Pixie shifted her weight against the railing, arms crossed. She could feel the vibration of it through her boots as the crowd stomped and hooted. The air smelled of sweat and gunpowder, of greed and ambition burning hot and fast.

Jack let the noise roll before he waved for quiet again. "Now, naturally, there are... risks. Law enforcement will come sniffing, sooner or later. The Core Worlds will remember we exist. We must be ready. Coordinated. Strong." He leaned in, flashing a predatory smile. "We must stand together, even if only long enough to stab each other in the back properly."

Another round of laughter.

Pixie's eyes swept the gathered pirate lords. She could see Lady Cryer conferring with her lieutenants, Happy Jack soaking up the attention, the captain of the Mutiny nursing a flask and looking half-asleep. All of them giants of the underworld. All of them responsible for thousands of losses.

Jack lifted his glass again. "I open the floor to comment. Though mind you, if you disagree with me, I reserve the right to shoot first!"

A few chuckles, a few calls of mock protest.

Pixie smiled.

It was time.

She stepped away from the railing. She didn't waver as she stepped past a few of the outer rings, then stepped down and onto the centre-most dias. There was a ripple in the crowd as she moved, not recognition exactly, but the kind of shift predators made when they sensed something wrong in the wind.

Jack's eyes landed on her, curious. "Well, now. A volunteer. Come, sister, speak your piece."

Pixie tugged her coat straight, adjusted the cuffs. She felt her smile turn into a grin, the kind of expression that showed a little bit of teeth. The kind of look that Ivil got when she saw something she wanted... or when she discovered something to tease them with.

"I have a message," she said, her voice carrying clearly, backed by the room's audio systems.

Jack arched an eyebrow, amused. "A message? From whom, darling? Your mother?"

"No," Pixie said, loud enough to carry over the laughter. Her voice rang out, and... no, that was much louder than it should have been. Was Ivil projecting her voice for her? "From every legitimate government in the system."

"Oh?" Jack asked.

Pixie nodded, then reached into her jacket. She pulled out a small handheld projector, then flicked it on, aware that some had tensed on seeing unfamiliar technology.

An image was projected above her head, of a page, but blown up large enough to be read across the room.

Nightshade: Special Authorization - Class One Bounty Enforcement Target: Any and all pirates at the 'Conference of Cutthroats' Objectives: Captain 'Happy' Jack of the Smile That Bites (Dead $17,000,000 or Alive), Lady Captain Cryer of the Sorrow's Last Shot (Dead $12,000,000 or Alive), Captain Grant of the Mutiny (Dead $14,000,000), Captain Rex Flint of the A Kiss Before Dying (Dead $7,000,000 or Alive), Captain Johnny 'Madcap' Locke of The Long Goodbye (Dead $14,000,000 or Alive) All other associates and individuals suspected of participating in piracy. Authorization for Deadly Force: Granted. Terms: Varying. Bonus Terms: Double payout for live capture.

"Oh, sweetie, that's suicide," Jack said with a smile that turned sad.

"Fuck right off," Grant said before spitting to the side. Lady Cryer shot him a glare at that. "You think we're going bend over backwards and let you walk in here and shit on our fun? You're not taking me alive."

"Actually, your bounty is specifically for your death," Pixie said.

"Yeah? You think you can fuck with me?" he asked with a roar as he stood up.

Some two dozen cores activated all at once as the man rose and rose. He wasn't confined to a mere human form, being a modest B-Classer.

His head disappeared.

And then his body crashed to the floor with a dull thump.

Soon, his cores started to clink and rattle as they rolled out of his corpse.

Pixie glanced at her wrist. "Note: Bounty on Captain Grant of the Mutiny completed at 1028. Target confirmed dead."

"What did you say your name was?" Happy Jack asked.

Pixie smiled. "The Nightshade. Have you heard of me?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Oh... well," she floundered, very much aware that the only person in the room giggling right now was Twenty-Six at the back.

"You're aware that we outnumber you somewhat considerably, yes?" he asked.

"Your options are surrender," Pixie called, her voice cutting through the panic. "Or a fast, ugly death!"

"We have a fleet!" Lady Cryer snapped.

The room brightened up as though a second sun had risen. Pixie could feel the warmth of the light splashing in from behind her. She turned, aware that looking at explosions wasn't cool, but...

The fleet of ships was burning.

From the Smile That Bites, already listing with fires blooming across its spine, to the jagged wreck of A Kiss Before Dying, peeling apart at the seams. The Sorrow's Last Shot had spun into a slow, helpless tumble, one wing of its armored prow torn clean off.

The Long Goodbye still floated, but it was venting atmosphere in a glittering spray, a dozen punctures punched clean through its kilometer-long hull.

It exploded spectacularly, even as she watched, every one of its many reactors going critical all at once.

God, it was beautiful.

Pixie closed her eyes for half a second and savoured the rush, the pure, perfect violence of it, the destruction so vast it made her toes curl in her boots. Her heart pounded, and she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from making a very undignified noise in front of the crowd.

She let out a slow, shuddering breath instead. Controlled. Mostly.

When she opened her eyes again, the entire gathering had shifted.

No more swagger. No more mockery.

The pirates were staring at her and at the wreckage blazing outside. Pixie could taste the fear wafting off them like smoke.

"I'm still willing to accept your unconditional surrender," she managed to say.

God, it was a good thing her suit was waterproof.

She was going to do to Ivil what Ivil had just done to those ships when she was done here.

***

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