The previous captain of the Arcadia had been a lonely and somewhat anti-social man, not given to mixing with his crew, and mostly to be found in one of three places: the bridge, the central computer room, or his quarters. Having been one of the crew when he'd first come aboard, even if only for a few weeks, taking the solitary path had never been an option for the current incumbent. If He'd pulled that "too good to mix with the men" shtick he'd have been hog-tied and chucked out the nearest airlock. The former captain been old-school military, and in some ways, it showed. The current Harlock, however, had never held a command in his rather short and inglorious military career before he'd pitched up on board this ship, tasked with trying to kill its mysterious, seemingly immortal captain.
That he'd survived this long was largely, in his mind, down to the woman currently trying to towel down a rambunctious seven-year old whilst his two brothers raced around the rather oversized room. They'd have had one of the fake candle-stands over if it wasn't bolted to the floor, when the taller of the two tripped over a rug and almost went headfirst into it. Harlock was close enough to field Wataru and took the full force of his surprisingly hard head right in the fleshy part of his right thigh. Right where the damn thing was only held together with spit, bloody mindedness and several surgical pins.
'Oh! Papa! I'm sorry…!' Harlock sat down on the floor ostensibly to get a contrite hug, but in reality to avoid collapsing and swearing a blue streak. The abuse that leg had taken over the years was obscene. It could take a lot of abuse (and did) but hit it just in the wrong place? It didn't take kindly to little boys ramming it headfirst… Wataru looked so distraught, his father gave him a hard hug. 'Shinpai shinaide,' he told him. 'No big deal.'
Wataru didn't look as though he bought it. His boys might be young, but the family genes contained a built in bullshit detector. He ended up with Wataru balanced on his good knee, and their adopted son Shotaro next to him, snuggled up as close as they could get. 'Any particular reason why your brother's getting the rough treatment from your mum?' he asked them in a stage whisper. 'That requires a towelling, not the dryer from the shower?'
'They were down in the lower decks of Engineering,' Kei told him, as she tried to rub something off near Mamoru's left ear. 'I'm not sure what it was he fell into, but it's proving to be a little stubborn - though Tochiro assures me it's non-toxic…'
It probably didn't require the hands-on approach she was giving the poor lad, but she'd been more than a little over-protective since they'd lost their eldest child - Yumi - during the plague, and almost lost Mamoru to the cure. Their youngest - five year old Nami - was staring at her father from over the edge of the bed. 'At least you managed to stay out of trouble?' She shook her head, her hair falling over her face as it came free from a loose ponytail. Yumi had been Kei in miniature. Nami, like the twins, took more after their father, though her hair was slightly lighter than the boys'. 'No papa. I just stayed out of the muck.'
Kei glared at him for laughing out loud, but she couldn't keep the stern look up for long. The corners of her lovely mouth twitched, and her cobalt blue eyes twinkled. By the time she'd helped Mamoru into night clothes, Nami had joined Harlock on the floor, and Kei carried him over to join them, although he wriggled and begged to make his own way over to his father. In the end she put him down, and Harlock soon had a lap full of small children, and his wife/XO snuggled up with them on the rug. Mamoru laid his head in her lap and settled down sleepily. He got tired easily, still not totally over the reaction to the Deathshadow plague's retro-viral cure, which had almost killed him. Doc assured them he'd recover, given time, but his treatment had been… radical, and the effects still uncertain. If Kei was openly cautious and over-protective, Harlock had to fight back the same urges. Small boys, as he well remembered, it not being that long ago, had their pride…
'All we need now is Mimay to join the pile,' he said softly to Kei, over the sleepy heads of their offspring.
'She's with Tochiro,' Kei replied. She sounded just as sleepy as the children, and guiltily, Harlock reminded himself that she too still had a long recovery ahead. She never liked to show any weakness, his Kei, but she'd come so close to dying herself… He felt that he really should have made her stay on board, but she was just as stubborn as he was (Tochiro assured him constantly that it ran in the family - apparently they were distant cousins) and adored his missing cousin as much as he did. 'How's the new recruit?'
Harlock laughed softly. 'I've not signed him up yet, love. Give him time for a rest, some food and a shower and clean clothes before we discuss what to do with him.' He moved his right arm from under Shotaro, where it was in danger of going to sleep, and shook it to get the circulation going again. 'Is it just me who picks up a weird vibe from that one?'
She looked thoughtful, sucking on her bottom lip slightly, as she did when pondering. 'No. He's battered and a bit shocky, but I get that same sense I used to get off you, before you straightened yourself out and shaped up…'
He didn't take offense. He'd been a miserable, sorry excuse himself to start with, after all. 'I don't get a self-pity vibe off him.'
'No…' she said slowly. 'But he holds himself away from people… he's got that same brittleness you had. But not, I think, your gentleness…'
'Well, we'll just have to see,' he told her brightly. He leaned over and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. 'He can come with us to Deathshadow Island at least, and from there we'll have to sort out what to do with him, whether he stays or not. We need a plan to deal with these bastards peddling flesh out in our space, and since that Terrible Twosome of Selen's are angling for some R&R at my expense, I thought we'd toss some of the problem into the lap of the Millennial Thieves… maybe this time I might finally wrangle a proper introduction to that mysterious Hannibal…'
She laughed. 'He's been avoiding you for almost ten years, my love. What makes you think that'll change? Or that the Warriors Zero will finally cave in under the force of your charm?'
The two adult sons of Selen and Zero were both about their age, and a pretty impressive duo in their own right. They'd been a little taken aback at first, to find the couple who'd become close friends to both of them were old enough to be their parents. However, over the years both Marin and Blaze had also become close friends, and men they both trusted at their backs. But damn… they knew how to keep their secrets…
Harlock grinned. 'I'm irresistible?' Kei rolled her eyes, and said nothing. She didn't have to. The mysterious founder of the Millennial Thieves seemed to enjoy manipulating people from the shadows… And Harlock was determined, one day, to see who lurked under that hooded cloak and mask… at least, most of the time. The man wasn't averse to sending others hidden under that disguise from time to time, but they'd long ago learned to spot when the real Hannibal was talking to them. It was a cliché, but it did tend to be true that if a man hides his face, he was either horribly disfigured, or he was recognisable. Kei thought the former, but Harlock was leaning more and more towards the latter. Especially since he also used a voice modulator, and refused point blank to use the Arcadia's holosuite to talk to them. Hannibal always used a surrogate whenever that was necessary… Which suggested it wasn't just Harlock that Hannibal was worried about, but possibly the two surviving members of the Arcadia's original crew.
Mamoru yawned and stared up at his father, blinking sleepily. Harlock ruffled his fine brown hair and smiled down at him. For now, Captain Harlock had more important things to deal with: To whit, persuading four stubborn little tykes that it was way past their bedtime. Some legend, he thought to himself, with a self-deprecating inner laugh. Scourge of the galaxy… hero of the Machine Wars… run ragged by his own children…
And couldn't find one lost, probably terrified, teenage boy…
Harlock caught up with his latest rescue the next day. Luna had pronounced him fit enough to leave the med bay, and sent him down to stores to pick up some fresh clothes. When Harlock sauntered in to check on him, Ben was rifling through a chest he recognised as one holding some of the previous captain's clothes - but since a) he was long gone and b) they didn't fit him, he wasn't going to be too precious about it. Ben had obviously already found some decent pants from somewhere - the old Harlock's would never have fitted; the man had been well over the current pirate's height, and Ben was about the same height as him or a little taller - but he did seem interested in the silk shirts… He was already wearing one in a silvery grey, tucked into darker grey pants.
Ben saw the captain watching, and smiled up at him. 'Captain.' He waved a handful of shirts. More grey/silver. Harlock was sensing a pattern… 'Problem?'
Harlock leaned against the wall, arms folded, and shrugged. 'Not as far as I'm concerned - though you'll want something more robust than those…' he nodded at the shirts. 'A few seconds in combat and those would be in shreds…'
Ben smiled. 'I get the impression that was the conclusion the previous owner came to. They've hardly been worn.'
'Harlock.' At Ben's frown the current incumbent amended this. 'The previous captain.'
'I got that. I remember the old wanted posters - they made it out into my corner of the universe as well… As a kid we had stories of the Arcadia being seen, but it was a ghost story, to frighten kids with - be good, or the Ghost Ship will get you.'
'I'm not sure whether he'd have been amused or insulted,' the pirate replied dryly. 'But he was too focused on his own agenda to have been interested in terrorising planets…'
'That, I kind of figured out for myself once I did a little digging as a teenager. I think I did considerably more research than whoever wrote that warp vid a few years back…' He said that with a look of such beatific innocence plastered over his pretty face that Harlock was tempted to suggest he might like a workout… He re-folded his arms instead and stared down at Ben.
'Not a fan?' Ben said eventually. It fell on stony ground: Harlock could do impassive with the best of them. Ben grinned, the expression so angelic, topped off as it was by those golden curls, Harlock had to wonder how he'd survived this long with his own front teeth and a perfect nose.
'You seem like a bright young man,' he said softly. 'I'll let you work that out.'
Ben laughed out loud. 'My apologies. It's a hard habit to break.'
'Pushing buttons on this ship isn't a survival trait,' Harlock warned him. 'These guys… they push back.'
'But not you?' He eyed the pirate up and down. A good night's sleep, a shower and clean clothes had restored a lot of bouncy bonhomie, Harlock thought. 'No…' Ben mused. 'Not you. You'd give me just enough room to walk into a noose of my own making…'
'If I felt magnanimous,' Harlock replied. Ben smiled even more widely. 'Touché…' he murmured. 'I'd raise a glass if I had one…'
'That can be remedied.' Harlock waited as Ben got easily to his feet. 'Why don't we get a drink, and you can at least tell me how you got here?'
Ben joined Harlock in the captain's quarters after dropping off his new acquisitions in his room. Harlock took his seat behind the massive desk - an antique from Earth, converted at some point into a state of the art captain's remote console, and also big enough not to be out of place in the office of any manipulative CEO who liked to intimidate interviewees. From the tiny half smile he saw playing around the corners of Ben's mouth as he accepted the drink poured for him - a pretty decent single malt - he was well aware of the tactic.
Ben sat on the chair opposite, and stretched out his long legs. 'It started about two years ago. A raid on a small outpost on the outer edge of the Greater Magellanic Cloud nearest the Milky Way. A music festival of all things, headlined by a band that's… well… insanely popular in my neck of the woods. A tour was arranged personally by… by the chancellor as a gesture to the garrisons stationed out in the wilds. Most of them are not much more than a listening station, or staging posts for a small force that can be deployed quickly to the frontier worlds of our little empire.' He took a long drink, emptying his glass, so Harlock topped him up.
'The ships appeared out of IN-SKIP in the atmosphere. The proximity alarms didn't go off, and the orbiting defences were wiped out before they knew what hit them. The transport ships went in, with a ground assault force, and just… rounded up all the concert goers. Anyone who resisted was just slaughtered. And then the ships vanished as quietly as they'd arrived. The sensors were down, no time radar trace, and there was just one survivor of the garrison - a low-level tech who'd been on clean up duty in a small cargo handler outside the orbital platform at the time.' He finished this glass as well, and this time helped himself. 'Became a bloody legend… went after one of the transports, rescued the band and several hundred fans, but he expired of his wounds before help arrived. The warp vid's still in the top ten most watched, and a musical production's been on tour for the last six months.'
'But I'm guessing you found no trace of the other transports?' Harlock hazarded.
Ben nodded. 'Got it in one. They didn't all head this way, that's for sure - just a few select, choice individuals, which is how that tech was able to trace them. Most of the others probably ended up as slaves for the Bolar Empire's planets. Perish the thought those green bastards should ever lift a finger to do a hard day's work.'
Since Ben's own hands were noticeably recently impeccably manicured and devoid of calluses, the pirate forbore to comment. Anyway, he was still talking. '... obvious there were still a lot of my people still unaccounted for, and it was still going on, although never again on such a level. There's a very discreet pipeline to this galaxy, and the money's coming from some very wealthy buyers with interests in the exotic and unusual. Since I had a pressing need to make myself scarce for a while, I figured I might as well look around a bit.'
'By getting yourself captured and sent down the pipeline?
Ben pulled a face over the top of his goblet. 'That wasn't part of the plan, no. Before...events kind of overtook me, I studied xeno-archaeology - specifically the Nibelung remains found in my galaxy. I had thought I could just make my way leisurely over to Niflheim and do some snooping along the way...'
Oh did he now? Harlock didn't like the idea of people just strolling over there when they felt like it. Not when there was so much Nibelung tech lying around… However, he could deal with that later. 'You think you were set up? Or just careless?'
'The latter. Only two people knew I was doing this, and I'd trust them both with my life. If they wanted me dead, I'd be already feeding the worms. Besides - if anyone knew who I was, let's just say paraded half-naked on a dusty shit hole about to become either a pampered catamite, or castrated and worked to death in some sweatshop or field would have been a picnic compared to what Zworder would do to me if he caught me unprotected and alone.'
Harlock reflected that he really did need to swot up on GMC politics… He filed that away for later. 'I'm not one to pry into my crew's private lives as a rule, but just what could drive a man so far away from home?' He refilled Ben's glass. 'You don't have to answer,' he told him, as the Gamilan hesitated.
Ben shrugged. 'I suppose it's only fair. I had… a few family troubles. My father… how can I put this? I'm one of a couple of dozen brothers, mostly older than me. Not long ago my father placed us all in a somewhat… untenable position. I was never his favourite - not being the kind of posturing testosterone addled thug he preferred in a son. Recently, I needed to make myself a little less of a target until certain things have been… calmed down a little. A situation my two friends are attending to, which we all agreed would be far simpler if I wasn't around to get myself killed by any passing opportunist.'
Harlock had to hand it to him. As a large helping of perfectly truthful bullshit, it was a masterpiece. There was a time he might have even taken it at face value, but as someone who once made a career out of dissembling and pretending to be an inoffensive idiot against his better nature, he knew all the signs. Some people embraced living a lie, and thrived on it. Others - and he'd put "Ben" firmly in that bucket - could do it with a certain amount of panache, and whilst they might enjoy yanking someone's chain, find that eventually, it chafed like a badly fitting rebreather collar.
Also - the way he said "brothers"? He heard that tone… Not to mention he had to wonder just why a younger princeling out of favour would be such a delicious target for the leader of an enemy government…
'From one man with an overly ambitious father and older brother to another, I think I understand a little.' Harlock leaned back in his chair. 'But now the question is, what do you want me to do with you?'
'What do pirates usually do with their captives?' Ben purred.
It was all Harlock could do to not start rolling his eyes. 'Behave. And you're not a captive. At the moment, you're my guest, but we don't carry passengers. I'm willing to drop you off somewhere safer than this sector, however. Unless you would like to stick around for a while?'
Ben steepled his fingers under his chin and stared at Harlock, evaluating. 'You plan to take on these slavers single handedly?'
'I was looking for someone,' Harlock told him. He slid a small holoprojector onto the desk and thumbed it into action. A picture of a youth of fourteen or so appeared between them. Light brown hair just as floppy and flyaway as the pirate's fell over one eye as the image turned, and his smile was still sweet with the innocence of youth. 'He'd be about sixteen now.'
'Looks a bit like you. A relative?'
'Second cousin, or thereabouts. He vanished a couple of years ago, after his mother was murdered. I really need to find him, but he's been hard to track. I did trace him to a spaceport a couple of systems away from here, taking passage on a ship heading this way. It was attacked by Hunter's fleet. Found it drifting with a handful of bodies, no survivors.'
'If you're family, how come he didn't just call you?'
Sharp, this one. It was a question Harlock really wanted the answer to. 'I wish I knew. We were up to our eyeballs at the time-'
'Two years ago… That was during the plague in this galaxy, wasn't it?'
Harlock nodded. 'Even so… I would have sent someone to get him, even if I was too far away. I've no idea why he rabbited, and we've had no luck catching up to him. Every time I get a lead, by the time we get there, he's gone.' He drank deeply, and topped up his glass - a useless gesture in a way, since the Arcadia's dark matter saturation made it almost impossible to get drunk. 'This was the best lead I've had in months, and I'm still three steps behind him.'
'He's a handsome kid,' Ben said softly, turning the base of the projector around a full three-sixty. 'Pretty. Too pretty.' He said this last in a flat, bleak tone. 'My galaxy's no better than this one when it comes to chewing up and spitting out the young and the beautiful.' He looked up at Harlock as he said it. 'But you look as though you know this first hand?'
'Since the Homecoming War the outer reaches of the galaxy have been pretty lawless. Before the Machinners War, it was opportunists preying on those who wanted a way off the dying worlds and selling them passage, only to shove them out of an airlock at a convenient, out of the way system. Or the mega-corps raiding worlds for slave labour. Once Promethium started her reign of terror, her cyborg troops sold people the false hope of immortality, with machine bodies for some, and death in the distillation chambers for the rest, leaving those too young for either process abandoned on already marginal worlds, to be picked up and preyed on by others. And there has always been a thriving market in the sex trade…' Which Kei knew all too well, having been born on one of those brothel ships, drugged and forced into the life, until at sixteen she'd stowed away on board the Arcadia, and begged Harlock senior to take her on board. What the hell he'd been thinking letting his crew use the services of one of those floating abominations was something Harlock would love to take up with the man…
That little reflection he kept to himself. 'There's another group, which we tried to shut down a couple of years ago. They might be linked to your abductions, since they revel in supplying the exotic and unusual to trophy hunters. I thought we'd put a stop to their sick trade, but it's possible we missed a couple of tentacles.'
'By trophy hunting…?'
Harlock nodded. 'Exactly what you think. For the right price, wealthy machinners - or equally well-loaded individuals who don't have the negligible excuse of being a download into an artificial brain/body - can indulge in hunting humans for trophies to be, if required, stuffed, mounted and placed on display.'
He wasn't sure in the deliberately dim lighting of the captain's room, but for a moment something flashed across Ben's face that gave Harlock the same chill he'd often been told he could give others when he was less than thrilled with a situation. 'And I thought Zworder and his court were a bunch of depraved perverts,' Ben murmured. 'And this "Hunter"? He's a part of this group?'
'Not exactly. He's a pirate - one who gives the rest of us a bad name. He'll work for anyone if the money's right. He's also a sadist. He and his men delight in rape, torture and murder for the sake of it. He's also very well connected - some time ago we think he did Doppler a favour, because he has several clones out there - we've never been able to track down the original - although your mileage may vary on whether we need to make the distinction. But that does make stopping his dispersed fleet an exercise in whack-a-mole - we take out one group, he pops up somewhere else. And I only have the one ship… Not even the SDF or the Millennial Thieves can be everywhere either.' But they were close, according to Marin and Blaze… hard though it was, Harlock figured, maybe it was worth losing a few weeks on tracing Tadashi, in order to finally cut off the head of this particular snake…
His guest looked thoughtful. 'Large man? Scruffy, bearded… large gut? Likes the sound of his own voice and giggles when he cuts on his prisoners?' he asked.
Harlock called up one of the more recent wanted posters for the offending creature - he hated to even lump him in with the rest of humanity. 'Huh.' Ben sat back in his chair. 'Ugly bastard isn't he? That's who the captain of the ship I was on was talking to, the one who told him to cut his losses. I think he actually meant to just space us, but since that captain was so close to this planet, I overheard him telling his first mate after he'd cut the transmission he'd make what he could and pocket the extra…'
Harlock smiled grimly. 'Well that'll cost him if Hunter finds out.' His nasty smirk was reflected back at him.
'Be rather public spirited to let the man know he's being cheated, wouldn't it?'
Harlock raised his glass in salute. Ben drained his glass, placed it on a convenient coaster, and stood up. It irked that it actually took Harlock some little effort to keep his arse in his own seat. Whatever else he was, Ben was a man used to leading by example, and two of those on one ship was one too many. If he noticed however, he didn't let it show. 'I can't, in all good faith, promise to serve you, captain,' Ben said quietly. 'Not permanently.' Harlock nodded. He'd figured that part out. 'But I owe you, and I do repay my debts.'
The pirate was quite sure he did. 'Do have any particular talents you can bring to bear?' Ben flashed that cherubic smile at him again and Harlock manfully resisted sighing. 'Apart from that…'
'I guess we'll just have to see,' Ben replied.
'I don't carry passengers,' Harlock warned him. 'You'll be expected to pull your weight. But I only have one iron rule: Whilst you're on my ship, you're one of my crew. And the obligations go both ways.'
Ben smiled. 'I wouldn't expect anything else, captain. With your permission…?' he gestured towards the doors, which were already opening. Tochiro, as usual, was listening in. Harlock nodded, and Ben inclined his head with a regal minimalism, turned smartly on his heel with parade ground precision, and strode out.
Once the doors shut behind him, Harlock heaved a sigh of relief and reached for the decanter.
Pretty intense, that one, huh?
'You noticed?' Harlock drawled.
Tochiro chuckled. Oh man… he'd have given my Harlock a run for his money. Wherever he comes from, he's used to getting his own way. You should see the voice-stress analysis I got from this boy!
'Lying his arse off whilst telling the truth is an art form,' Harlock replied admiringly. 'I'd hate to be across a negotiating table from that man. Though… he's not as confident as he'd like me to think he is.'
Give him time… He doesn't look that old… But I guess that's no guide these days. I do have some stuff in my files about Gamilas. It's a military dictatorship, has been for centuries. The ruling family has a first-past-the-post system for selecting the next ruler when the old one dies…
'Said post being the stake they tie them to for the firing line?'
…
'Doesn't surprise me.' Harlock poured himself another drink and sat back in his chair. 'However my shoulder blades aren't twitching, which is a good sign.'
You really trust that affable persona?
'When did I say that?' He smirked into his wine glass as Tochiro's ghostly voice chuckled. 'We're meeting up with the rest of our motley friends in a couple of days, so let's see what he brings to the table. Right now, I'd take anything to help me find Tadashi, but if Hunter's involved with trafficking citizens from the GMC, we've got bigger problems.' The last thing they needed was yet another militaristic empire knocking on their door...
Shouldn't really be our problem though, should it?
No… it really shouldn't. Harlock poured himself the remains of the wine and drank it down. But they had friends out there, and also - he liked a nice, peaceful neighbourhood.
Tochiro chuckled. Yeah… good luck with that!
Deathshadow Island, 48 hours later...
One of Harlock's best "finds" over the years was the old former fleet staging post some entitled politicians in decades past had converted into a luxury holiday home. It held a wet-docking system for four ships the size of the Arcadia, an artificial environment consisting of three separate vacation zones, the equivalent of a five star hotel for accommodation including a spa, and the equally luxurious restaurant he currently sat in, which Anita, the Arcadia's resident cook and quartermaster made her personal purview whenever they docked. Currently he shared a table with Marin, Blaze, and Cai, along with Tochiro's chirpy tele-presence, because the little guy did like to "get off" the ship from time to time.
Sometimes, a life of piracy paid dividends.
Cai smirked as he stared across at the table on the far side of the restaurant. 'Hǎo bái cài bèi zhū gǒngle…' he murmured.
The other three men just stared blankly at him. 'Come again?' Marin asked.
'Literally, there's a pig rooting around in your cabbage…' he replied airily. 'My grandma used to say that when she saw girls falling for the pickup lines of sleazy charmers…'
They all looked over, to see Ben leaning in towards Emeraldas, his lazy smile plastered over his face, and an attentive look that needed no explanation.
I think Harlock and I got accused of that in Dalian spaceport… Tochiro mused. Mind you, we'd had a skinful that night… and I seem to remember some little old lady smacking me around the head with an umbrella and screaming something a helpful local told us was something about me being a "salty pig"…
'Xiǎoxīn diǎn er, tā kěnéng shìgè xián zhūshǒu…' Cai added helpfully. 'Watch out for that one, he's got salty pig hands…"' He tutted and grinned up at the nearest camera. 'Never mess with the mamas, Tochiro-san.'
'Somehow,' Blaze whispered archly to Marin, 'I don't think it was the mamas they were messing with…'
'Maybe we should take a walk over there and make sure he keeps his little blue trotters to himself?' Marin asked his brother.
Blaze just rolled his eyes. 'Really? If we play the concerned big brothers routine, our delicate, dainty, shy and even-tempered cousin is likely to hand us our bollocks on a platter…'
'I wasn't thinking of protecting her,' Marin pointed out, with an evil grin. 'Poor bastard has no idea what trouble might await him…'
'Ooh. Good point. In the interests of Inter-Galactic peace and all that… I mean, it'd be dreadful if she started a major incident with yet another extra-galactic empire…'
'To be fair,' Harlock waded in, feeling someone ought to stand up for their cousin at this point, 'she didn't start that war… Her mother did...'
She's laughing... Tochiro interjected. Should we be panicking yet?
They all stared. Sure enough, she was leaning towards the overly charming bastard and smiling. And her hands were out in the open, not even close to her handgun, sabre or knife. She didn't even so much as slap his hand away when he reached over and flicked a lock of her red hair out of her face, though they all flinched in anticipation of the bloodbath they expected in response to his effrontery.
'Good grief… I think she might have just blushed…' Blaze muttered in a hushed, awed tone.
'And he still has all his fingers,' Harlock added admiringly.
'I think,' Cai told them as he stood up, his chair scraping along the floor like nails down a chalkboard, 'That all of you are being totally unfair to the poor girl.' With a little sigh presumably aimed at their total lack of compassion, he sauntered off. That just left the three of them staring at each other in disbelief.
'Does he even live in the same dimension as the rest of us?' Blaze asked. Harlock shrugged.
'It's not as though he's in any real danger from her,' he pointed out. 'Cai only ever had eyes for Matt, and even if he does get over losing him, Emeraldas… not even remotely his type.'
'Is she anyone's?' Marin asked, punctuating the question with a long pull on his beer. 'I mean, she's family, but… she's prickly on a good day, and borderline bloody psychotic if you catch her on a bad one. Or hit one of her trigger points…'
'Leopard,' Blaze and Harlock sang out in unison. They grinned at each other, as Marin's spit take went all over the table. 'I hope you're going to clean that up,' Harlock added.
'No bloody way!' Harlock assumed he meant the revelation. Tadashi, a young man who'd been rescued from the same container of transportees they'd found Shotaro in, was trotting past presumably bussing tables. He snagged the cloth over his arm and chucked it down in front of Marin, who made a token attempt to mop the spills up. Marin narrowed his eyes and waved the soggy item at his younger brother. 'And if you knew about it, why is that platinum pated prick still breathing oxygen?'
'Because I don't like him enough to save him?' Blaze deadpanned. 'Our uncle is a stuck-up martinet, and if he's stupid enough - or deranged enough - to think that porking either of the Queen's Twin Terrors is a smart move, I'm not going to disabuse him of the notion. I'm going to sit back and wait for his cock to lead him straight into a hell of his own making…' He clinked glasses with Harlock and they both watched Marin process the information, sneaking glances over his shoulder at his cousin.
'Personally I'm not sure what the attraction is for her,' Harlock opined.
'Disposable,' Blaze replied blandly. 'Em's cold blooded practicality tends to lead her towards wanting to scratch her itches, but not with anyone she might actually have to give a shit about. He, poor sod, is however devoted to the royal family, and is therefore easy prey. His sense of honour means he'd die before hurting her. I'm not however convinced that works both ways…'
Harlock slapped him on the arm and Blaze glared at the pirate. 'Ow. What was…'
'Being an arse,' Harlock replied. 'She does have a bloody heart…'
'Probably has a collection,' he muttered. 'Ow!' he rubbed his arm for the second time. 'Stop that!'
'Or what? You'll tell your mom?'
He smirked nastily. 'Hell yeah… Not even the mighty Captain Harlock can stand up to her…'
Since his mother was Selen - boss of the Millennial Thieves - the public one at least, discounting the elusive, mantle-shrouded Hannibal…- and sister (technically clone-sib) of the Machine Empire's evil Queen Promethium, and she'd taught Harlock everything Kei hadn't about fighting dirty and being a total badass, he had a point. The pirate shrugged, took a drink and raised his glass in silent salute to him winning that round. Although in practice, he doubted he'd have gotten much sympathy. It'd been a good fifteen years since she'd felt the need to fight their battles for them. Besides, she liked Harlock. The conversation, however, was already moving on.
'...even seen that spaceship she brought in? First off I'm amazed it even got here in one piece from whatever planet she found it on, and secondly, it has to be the weirdest-ass thing I've ever seen. I sent Hannibal a picture and even he couldn't place it….' Marin was saying.
'Saw it, still can't believe it's an actual spaceship. And Hannibal didn't go looking in the right place,' Blaze replied. 'Because, as ever, you lot always go looking in the directory of battleships.'
'Not everything's a weapon,' Harlock added. 'Tochiro showed me the brochure - it was buried in some ancient database from before the Homecoming War - a luxury interstellar yacht for the rich and shameless, if you can believe that.' Personally he wasn't sure what the hell possessed Emeraldas to unbury the wreck and bring it to Deathshadow Island, but she and Tochiro seemed to think the ship had potential, and both Maji and Yattaran were almost salivating over the thought of restoring the old wreck. 'I'm just trying to get my head around why that gondola doesn't get torn away from the blimp the moment you try to move the damned thing…'
Same way we don't lose our flagpole every time we move, Tochiro replied blithely. It's just that cool.
'Bloody big force-shields more like,' Blaze pointed out. Tochiro's disembodied voice just whistled nonchalantly. 'I suppose we should have realised it was Lar Metal built,' He continued. 'Only a spectacularly decadent culture would build a space yacht to look like a dirigible…'
'Or a battleship that looks like a steam train?' Harlock added facetiously.
Blaze glared at him. 'Firstly, that's not purely a Lar Metallian design, and secondly - how the hell did you even get hold of the SDF's plans…' he glanced up as Yattaran waddled past, meaty hands full of tankards. 'Never mind… forget I asked. Besides, that stuff's years away from full implementation.' He gazed glumly at the bottom of his now empty glass. 'Still, it's going to take a while to make it space-worthy again, right?'
Harlock's turn to sigh. 'Not so much. The real problem is she wants to mount weapons on it, and it just wasn't built for it.'
'Of course she does,' Marin murmured. 'That's our girl!' He drained what was left of his glass. 'What's she calling it?'
Harlock laughed. 'Oh… it already has a name, apparently. And a very snarky, in-your-face AI to go with it. I gather "Emeraldas" wasn't a unique name on Lar Metal? Because this "yacht" went under the name of the "Queen Emeraldas"...'
Both men spluttered and shot knowing glances at the other table. 'She'll be unbearable…' Blaze muttered.
'She isn't now?' Marin asked archly. They grinned at each other. They all cared deeply for the girl - bloody good job, Harlock thought, because she'd have tried the patience of a Buddha or saint. They carried on snooping as both she and Ben stood up, and then Ben scared the wits out of all of them by bowing and raising her hand to his lips. They alI held their breath, waiting for the swing.
It didn't land, and all three men let out a collective whoosh. 'Lar…' Marin said respectfully. 'He's got balls…'
'Seems to be keeping them,' Blaze added, sounding slightly awed. 'I've seen her threaten to emasculate a guy for less…' He jabbed a finger in the direction of the pirate's midriff. 'He's your crewman, Harlock - shouldn't you be looking out for him?'
Harlock leaned back in his chair, balanced on the two back legs and laced his fingers behind his head. 'First, he's not yet signed up. Second, I think he's a big boy who can take care of himself. Honestly, he's such a charmer I was expecting to have to keep an eye on him. I swear just one smile could have knickers - or boxers - hitting the floor, don't get me started on his voice, and he knows how to weaponise both. Last time I saw a man that off the charts beautiful, it was the last Captain, and he seemed completely oblivious to the effect he had on innocent bystanders. Ben…'
Blaze shook his head and grinned. 'You like him,' he told Harlock. 'Because it seems you finally found someone as devious and charming as you can be when you get off your backside, and probably with just as much baggage - or more.' He smiled. 'It'll be good for you. You've been way too quiet since…' That easy going smile faltered slightly.
'We all lost people,' Harlock interjected softly. 'Your father… your baby brothers… my daughter… friends, crew… what the war didn't take, the plague did, and it's been nearly ten years of non-stop shit for all of us. Now we've got these trafficking rings stepping into the void left by Promethium's harvesters. Last thing we needed was even more shit to clean up. Whilst yes, I like him on a personal level, he's offered to help try and put a stopper in one major pipeline - I suspect you two will have more contact with him than I will…'
'Oh-ho…!' Marin entered into the finger-jabbing contest, and Harlock slapped his hand away playfully. 'So that's why you were happy to wine and dine us when we showed up, instead of belly-aching about how we treat Deathshadow Island as our personal holiday resort?'
'Shit. I knew I forgot to do something.' Harlock snapped his fingers and tutted. 'Tochiro, aren't you supposed to remind me of these things?'
…
Never around to back you up when you need him… Harlock mused. He continued: 'You two are more legitimate, you have more SDF contacts than I do, you can bring more ships to bear. I need to concentrate on finding Tadashi, and find out what this deal is with the links between those murders of scientists in such specific disciplines, including my aunt and uncle, and those cryptic notes Nami left me.'
'Ships have so far failed to have much of an impact on this problem,' Marin pointed out. The older of the pair by a scant year, he was also the quieter of the pair. In the same way that Harlock's twins were - which was to say there was a whisker in it, and even then you had the feeling they divvied up the role between them deliberately to mess with the heads of unwary bystanders.
'On that, we're agreed.' Harlock sat back in his chair. 'And this is one of those problems I'm not really the best solution to. We shoot stuff. And it stays shot. Often in twisted, melted pieces.'
'You also ram ships…' Marin reminded him helpfully. He folded his arms and stared at Marin. 'Which… also tends to result in permanent pieces. I see your point.'
'He's right,' Blaze told his brother. 'We can't risk collateral damage - Hunter's ships are slavers - the goal is to save people, not splatter everyone on board who isn't one of Hunter's psychopaths across large areas of the shipping lanes…'
Marin pulled a face. 'Seriously, you spend far too much time with Hannibal, Mr. Sensible…'
'Don't blame Hannibal... Dad always said mother got our names the wrong way round - you're the hot head and I'm the still, deep waters…'
Harlock couldn't help smiling, if somewhat wistfully. His own brother had always been somewhat remote, although there was only three years between them. Harlock had been the impulsive one; Isora had mastered the family stoicism at an early age, and Harlock's youthful tendency to run headlong into trouble had always exasperated his brother. Not for them the easy-going banter Marin and Blaze shared, even before The Accident.
'You're doing it again…' Blaze leaned over and flicked him between the eyes. 'You have us now, you idiot. Forget that mechanised pile of scrap that thinks it's Isora.'
Times like this Harlock wished he had a nice, large crystal goblet to hide his face behind. 'I wasn't thinking of Lazarus…'
'No. But you get that little wistful look when you remember how much of an arse Isora was. Family out here is what you make it, I think you said that once. Round about the time we had to swoop in and rescue you and dad from one of your little "adventures". Again. Oi!' he waved a hand in the air. 'Tadashi-kun! What kind of cabin boy doesn't keep his captain supplied with booze?'
'He's not…' Harlock began. Too late. Tadashi was trotting up, a cheerful grin plastered all over his face. 'Ignore them,' His captain told him. 'You're not here to wait on me, kiddo.'
'But I really don't mind, Captain.'
No. He really didn't, and it was always hard to try and stop him. He took it as a personal insult if Harlock tried. He caved in to the inevitable. 'Fine. Grab something out of stores and four glasses - and pull up a chair when you're done - no reason you shouldn't sit with the big boys from time to time.'
His face lit up as though his captain had handed him a priceless treasure. As he trotted off Harlock shook his head. 'Honestly, he still acts as though he's fourteen when he comes back for the vacations. The kid's almost the same age I was when I became captain.'
'That's the price you pay for being a hero and a role model,' Blaze said with a sly grin. 'He's idolized you ever since you took him in…'
'He saved himself, Niobe, Meggie and little Taro,' Harlock pointed out. 'All I did was rob a damned transport. Who's the real hero there?'
'He still blames himself for not saving the rest of them,' Blaze pointed out. 'Difficult to see yourself as a hero when you're surrounded by corpses. It's hard to feel good about your actions when all you see at night are the ones you didn't save…' His hand reached up to touch the breast pocket of his jacket as he spoke, and there was a bleakness in his eyes that hadn't been there the last time they'd been together.
Tadashi trotted over just then, tray in hand, and the three of them set about grilling Harlock's young ward about his studies - he was soon to take up his graduate studies in medicine on Destiny, having eschewed piracy for a much more meaningful profession.
Harlock was enjoying watching the poor lad squirming as Marin teased out of him that he'd recently met a lovely young woman in his class when Franz raised his voice over the background chatter to get his attention. 'Captain!'
He looked around, and Franz jabbed a finger at the warp vid screen on the wall. Harlock gestured for someone to turn up the sound. It was a galaxy-wide news channel, and their correspondent was standing between two uniformed figures, one in the dark blue of the Alliance Fleet, the other the grey of the Space Sheriffs.
… The Space Sheriffs and the Alliance Fleet are now working together on the hunt for this killer, whose spree now extends to fifty known disappearances on fifteen worlds. No bodies have ever been found, but eyewitnesses report seeing these women burst into a strange blue flame, leaving only a carbonised residue. As yet, the weapon used has not been identified. Nor is this killer limiting his selection of victims to only one type - his victims have ranged in age from teens to old age, and all skin and hair colours. But a break in the case came yesterday, after cctv footage showed this youth, running away from the scene of the latest attack. Closer examination of the footage showed him firing a weapon at the victim - a young woman who has not yet been identified. The killer hasn't yet been identified, but the Space Sheriffs believe they have now identified this young man as someone of interest in their investigation, having tracked him back to all fifteen known systems where attacks have taken place over the last two years…
The picture on the screen was a grainy, magnified shot from the footage, but Harlock knew who it would be even before they zoomed in on the running figure. He'd seen him running down a rugby pitch often enough in his early teens.
'Isn't that…' Blaze trailed off, unsure what to say next. Because what could you say?
'The Other Tadashi…' Tadashi said quietly. 'Captain?'
The restaurant had gone very, very quiet. Franz reached for the remote and switched off the screen as it went into a repeat.
'Tochiro?'
On it, Harlock.
'Was it just me, or did that woman go up like a piece of paper?' Blaze asked. 'I've never known of any weapon that could do that…'
'Not the weapon,' Harlock replied. Because he had seen this before. He just still wasn't sure what it meant. 'She just burned up when she died.'
'I think she was naked…' Marin murmured. 'You don't think…'
No. He didn't. At least that wasn't anywhere he wanted to go. 'At least they haven't put a name to him yet…' he muttered. Thankful for small mercies at least. 'What planet was that from?'
KX-394. Arse end of nowhere. And a good week away at standard speeds from where we were looking…
Ben was standing near to the table, hands in pockets, a thoughtful look on his face. 'That's the boy you're looking for?' Harlock nodded. Ben whistled through his teeth. 'Damn. And I thought I had problems…'
'Look on the bright side, Captain…' this from Ali, who'd strolled over.
'Can't wait to hear this one…' Blaze muttered.
'Snippy, snippy… but hey - with the entire Space Sheriffs and the fleet looking for him, you gotta stand a better chance of finding him now, right?'
'And if they just shoot on sight, dickhead?' Martinez whapped his comrade upsides the head, saving his captain the effort.
Harlock ignored the bickering. Something he'd seen had given him a vague memory to chase down: Something in Professor Daiba's notes about blue flames…
...and women who burned like paper.
