SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Mirella's Star Chapter One

Mirella's Star

Chapter 1

"And here she is! Beautiful, ain't she?"

Tyrone Napier ran a scrutinizing hand across the smooth black plating that had once - and would again - touch space. It felt alive. "So, this is it. This is the real Mirella's Star."

"Up close and -er- personal." The dwarf mechanic grinned. "Meanest pirate ship in the galaxy. ...Till the Navy supposedly destroyed her."

"But she's no ghost!"

"Oh, no. It's not the ship. It's her crew."

Blue-green eyes looked up. "What crew?"

"They say her crew still haunts the corridors, trapped in the last showdown with the Navy... before they were sucked out into the vacuum of space."

"That's all a bunch of hyped up Earth lore. There are no such things as ghosts, and this metal beneath my fingertips is proof of that. Now, how much?"

"Maintenance and hangar rent brings it to five hundred and twenty-three credits."

Tyrone reached into his flight jacket for the coins.

"You're not... taking her out, are you?"

"Scrappers are coming by at some point today. I don't care much for space travel. It took most of my adrenaline just to get up to this station. Besides, I could use the credits. I'm thinking of buying a new hover car."

"Yes, I hear they're coming out with a new model this year, better heat-resistant panels."

"Yeah, listen, I'm going to kick back at one of your bars somewhere. You give me a beep when they show."

"Certainly. Oh, try the Winking Lizard. Goes down easy. And, Tyrone, sorry about your aunt. I'm sure she meant a lot to you."

"This ship meant a lot to her. I don't even remember her face," he replied bitterly. "Right now, I'm trying not to build a reputation of being a ruthless pirate's nephew."

The mechanic risked a fearful glance at the craft as if considering getting out of the line of fire.

"And for the last time, Jarek, it's a ship! It's not going to bite you."

"Try being in my profession and then tell me she's just a ship."

Tyrone just shook his head with a roll of the eyes, but as he left the hanger he thought he did feel shadowed eyes on him, but he tossed it to resurfacing distant memories.

Children bullied him at school for being the great Captain Mirella Napier's nephew. Teachers were quick to pin school fights on him. It was all his father, Soloman, - her brother - could do to keep him from dropping out completely.

I hate space travel. I hate ships. And, most of all, I hate pirates! I just want to spend a quiet life on Dad's farm with as little technology and civilization as I can get away with and just let the worlds pass me by... "Oof!"

"Hey! Watch it!" the man cried.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Guess I should watch where I'm going. My aunt just died and I've been a little..."

The gray side-burned man cocked a grey eye at him beneath a pair of expensive spectacles. "Napier?"

"Uh... Tyrone Napier." Tyrone lifted a hand from his flight jacket pocket. "And you are...?"

"So you're the Mirella kid."

"Well, that's a nice way to put it," Tyrone remarked sarcastically.

"Do yourself a favor, Napier. Be planet-bound rápidamente, and leave your name behind."

"You want to tell me why?"

"The less you know, the better." He pushed past Tyrone and pulled a hood over his head.

"Can you at least tell me your name?"

He faded into the crowd.

Tyrone sighed. "Just one damn thing after another..."

* * *

"In other news, the cargo ship Lucitania has disappeared, believed to be the fourth victim to a mysterious attack which has left previous ships stripped and crewless. Rumors say Mirella's ghost is to blame. All leads are being investigated..." The anchor could just barely keep a straight face.

Tyrone stalked into the Winking Lizard and took a seat at the bar. "Krytó on the rocks," he ordered.

"You got it," the bartender said.

"Starship land on your dog?" the woman beside him remarked.

Tyrone received his drink. "I'd rather not talk about it."

The red-head shrugged yellow-jacketed shoulders. "Suit yourself. Hey, Frank! I'll have what he's having."

"Sure thing, Miss Ross."

"Miss Ross..." Tyrone repeated to himself. Why did that name sound familiar?

"Valentine Ross from Day and Night News." She stuck out a hand. "And you must be Tyrone Napier."

"Do I really look that much like my aunt?"

"Well, yes, but I heard from Mister Aisley you'd be stopping by."

"Jarek," he cursed. "That midget..."

"Dwarf. He's a dwarf."

"Whatever." He stirred his drink. "So what can I do for you... Miss Ross?"

She closed empty fingers and turned to her own drink. "I... heard a rumor. You might've inherited the actual Star."

"I didn't inherit a star. I inherited a ship, and before long it'll be scrap."

She choked in mid-sip. "Have you gone mad? The Star's a relic!"

Several eyes turned their way.

Tyrone growled.

Valentine ducked her head and spoke softly. "Your aunt was the leader of an entire fleet for over twenty years and captain of a ship said to have mystical powers. There hasn't been a story this big since King Arthur and the Holy Grail! She's a legend!"

"She's a pirate, a malicious, throat-slashing pirate. Arthur was a benevolent king."

"His father wasn't benevolent."

"Nor was my aunt. You're a reporter, Miss Ross. Stick to the facts."

"You want facts? I got your facts. Fact: Mirella hasn't killed anyone who wasn't trying to kill her first. Fact: Every one of her hits was a government vessel with the latest in technology. All this stuff about her hitting private freighters of precious ore is a bunch of horse radish. Fact: On at least eight separate occasions she's called rescue ships to vessels other than her own. Now, does that sound like a bloodthirsty cutthroat?"

"Pirates are pirates."

"You want to know what I think? You're just bitter 'cause she didn't take you with her."

"I hate space."

"How do you know? You never gave space a chance."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Oh, please... You planet huggers are all alike..."

"Hmph..."

"Captain Napier?" a new voice came.

"What? Is this a convention? The name's Mister Napier." He faced a dark-suited man with sunglasses.

The man flashed an ID too quick for Tyrone to make out. "Colonial Salvage Department. We're here for the Mirella's Star?"

"Oh, yeah." He tossed out credits for the drink. "You're here early."

He gave an artificial smile. "We like to be efficient."

Valentine touched a finger to her chin. "You don't look like a salvage worker."

"We prefer the professional look. It makes us look... professional."

"Works for me." Tyrone stood. "C'mon. I'll show you where she is."

"Tyrone, wait." Valentine wrapped her arms around one of his. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Tyrone opened his mouth to crack a remark but felt it too. Something wasn't right... "Uh, Miss Ross is going to accompany us. Take a few snapshots for the gazette."

"As you wish."

"Great!" He slapped his hands together enthusiastically. "I can't tell you how much I look forward to getting this crate off my hands. You're a life saver."

"So I am told..."

* * *

When they entered the hangar it was swarming with people in suits and sunglasses.

The dwarf ran towards them. "Mister Napier..." he huffed. "I told them they weren't allowed aboard without your final authorization, but they wouldn't listen!"

"What's going on here?" Tyrone challenged the suit from the bar.

Some of the suit's friends appeared on either side of Jarek.

"Remove their side arms," the man replied.

"What?" Tyrone protested.

A female grabbed Valentine's camera. "Hey! That's mine!"

"You're both under arrest."

"For what?" Tyrone snapped.

"Receiving stolen property and withholding information."

"Withholding?! There hasn't even been an investigation!" Valentine protested.

"This is bogus. I inherited the Star. I didn't receive anything, and if it's yours go ahead and take it."

"Everything will be cleared up at our headquarters."

"Aren't you going to read me my rights?" Tyrone raised an eyebrow.

"You have no rights."

The female beside Valentine loaded a hypodermic pressure gun. "This should last the trip."

Tyrone jabbed an elbow into the man behind him.

Valentine flinched away from the gun.

Tyrone landed a punch square in the woman's face. She landed flat on her back.

"Sorry," Tyrone mumbled.

"I'm not complaining!" Valentine yelled.

"Stop them!"

Jarek threw a desk chair into the suits' path. Tyrone grabbed back his and Valentine's guns, slamming hers into her hands as soon as Jarek unlocked her handcuffs.

One cuff still dangled off Tyrone's wrist, but Jarek got that one too before all three of them bolted for the ship.

"Is the Star space worthy?" Tyrone asked Jarek.

"You can't take her out! The ghosts!"

"Yes or no?!"

"Yes! ...Madre de Dios..."

Tyrone slammed a hand on the control panel, and a gangplank folded down. Tyrone helped Valentine aboard then reached for Jarek.

A laser blast hit Tyrone in the hand, and he cradled it.

"Surrender, Napier!" the head suit called. "Don't go the way of your aunt."

"I don't have much choice, do I?"

"No."

"Get on," he growled softly.

"But, Mister Napier..." Jarek began.

"Get on, damn it! I don't know who these guys are, but there's not way in hell I'm going to let them take us for things we didn't do."

"Yes, Captain."

Tyrone blinked. Captain?... Of course... He owned a ship, and now he was about to have a crew. What more did a captain need?

Luck?

"Mister Aisley, if you enter that ship, I swear I'll shoot you where you stand," the suit warned.

"What do we do?" Jarek asked.

"Pray."

A rumbling sounded behind them, and they turned as the thrusters fired up.

Little lights came on, sparkling like stars against the shimmering ink-black hull. The ship reminded Tyrone of a giant mechanical raven or black swan, built for speed, to outrun pursuers and fade into the night sky. Built like a giant fighter jet but with the capacity for a comfortable dozen people in the cockpit, a command center at the bow and a large cargo hold and engine room at the stern. He felt a sudden shiver of delight at seeing it airborne, the kind of which he'd felt but once before...

When he was nine, Auntie Mira handed him a foot-long model of the ship. "I had this made by a fine craftsman on Harris..."

"Wow... This is your ship?"

"She hasn't been named yet. Have any ideas?"

His father had his arms crossed. "How about Stolen?"

"Soloman..."

"You never should've joined Adolphus and his band. Now, look at you. You're on the Federal's Most Wanted List. What would Mother say if she saw us now?"

"She'd say to fight the good fight. I don't blame you for keeping your nose clean, little brother. If you didn't, who would raise my little star?"

"Probably his mother, if she were still alive."

"No one will take away my dream, my star - to live in a universe free of corruption. If that makes me a pirate, so be it. I'd rather die than let them have that ship."

"Tyrone, get on!" Valentine cried.

Tyrone snapped out of the flashback.

A gun turret on the side of the ship sprayed laser blasts past him, keeping the suits pinned.

Tyrone reached up and grabbed the reporter's outstretched hand.

She yanked him up and slid the door shut behind them.

"Thanks," he breathed.

"It's not over yet." She ran down the hall in the direction Tyrone had determined was the bridge.

Tyrone let teal eyes take in their surroundings and followed her.

"Okay!" Valentine yelled. "See if you can find me helm control!"

Tyrone emerged onto the bridge. "Can you fly it?"

"Well, with Jarek's help I should be able to find the accelerator and the brakes. ...And some way to steer. How complicated can it be?"

"Here you are calling me the planet hugger when you can't even pilot a simple spacecraft!"

"Can you?"

Tyrone paused.

Jarek's and Valentine's eyes were upon him.

Tyrone turned to Jarek. "Show me."

He pointed wordlessly to a chair on a platform above them.

Tyrone skipped up the stairs, Jarek and Valentine following slowly. "I pilot crop-dusters for my dad. The principle should be the same..."

"Amateurs..."

"I'm the amateur? You're the one ranting about accelerator and brakes."

Valentine touched a finger to her chest. "I didn't say anything!"

"Excellent flying, Captain," Jarek commented.

"I haven't touched anything yet."

Valentine peered over his shoulder. "Is it on autopilot?"

"In the middle of a hangar?" Tyrone countered.

"'Tis Mirella's ghost!" Jarek squeaked.

"Jarek, would you relax. I'm sure there's a perfectly good-" He blanched upon finding his aunt standing before him. "-Explanation."

The middle-aged woman cracked a sympathetic smile. "Hello, Tyrone."

"Oh, god..."

End of Chapter One...