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Sequence 1 Merge 2, Stable Tibs, Human “All good?” Tibs asked the gunner, who doubled as their ship’s engineer. The grizzled man glared at him over the drive. “Is the captain planning on getting me replacement parts anytime soon?” “You know how things are, Quig.” “Then no, everything’s not good. We need replacements.” “We haven’t had any contracts that pay enough to—” “Then maybe if we weren’t taking on passengers for free? Or is the sex those two are having what passes as payment now?” “That a them thing. And he will pay. Jackal promises his old friend’s good for it.” “And he’s never wrong about things like that, is he?” The older man looked at the machinery. “Look. I’m serious, Tibs. I had to hand weld this the last time we had to push the ship. If I don’t get parts….” He nodded. “Like I said, Jackal’s friend is good for it. I’ll make sure Don’s got us a course to one of the shipyards. And we’ll get you what you want.” He left the engine room. “Parts older than this ship aren’t what I need,” the gunner called. What they needed was luck, if that was even a thing. Too many contracts had fallen through. Jackal’s friend, if he was good for the money, would cover most of what they owed, but that meant scavenging for what they needed, not buying. He knocked on the frame of the open door, and the man in the room looked up from the papers spread over the desk. “We’re going to need to hit a shipyard after we drop off the passenger. Can you plot a course to something that doesn’t have too much security?” “None of those have the newer ships,” Don answered. “Quigly’s not going to be happy.” “Is he ever? You know the crew. You know what we’re able to do. Find us the best yard we can get in and out and not get caught.” Don knew just about everything there was to know about everything, courtesy of the memory implant. It was experimental, more advanced than anything available now. If he saw something, he couldn’t forget it. Literally. Experimental meant not exactly ready for the mass market, and this one’s flaw was no ability to delete the data. Part of the deal he’d made with Don when they took him on was that Tibs would scour the net for the people who had worked on it in the hopes one of them could help. Don was terrified of what would happen when the memory reached its limit. “You know I’d never speak ill of this crew, Tibs.” He smirked. “But they can’t safely hit any of the good places. It’s what happens when the captain chooses friends over competence.” “And those in need of help,” Tibs pointed out. Don had a habit of forgetting he wasn’t exactly an expert at breaking into places either. The man sighed. “I didn’t mean…. I’ll look for the best place we can hit. Might be easier for you to coerce one of them into shipping us the parts we need.” “Doing the best I can with that.” Tibs’s interfacing implants were as experimental as Don’s memory. Unfortunately, he hadn’t chosen to get them. He’d been nothing more than a kid surviving on the street when he was snatched and experimented on. He’d outsmarted them by turning this technology against them, but it hadn’t come with a user file. What he knew of how to use it came from coercing school systems into letting him copy what they taught, but that wasn’t as useful as he’d thought outside their classes. Jackal’s friend was giving him pointers, but they thought too differently. He dealt with the people those computers were, and talked them into doing what he wanted, while Tibs’s implants only let him see the code, not the personality that created. The proximity alarm sounded before he reached his room. “All hands,” he said in his comm, running for the bridge. “All hands. This ain’t a drill.” Jackal reached the bridge with him. Wearing only pants and fastening that. Tibs dropped at his station. “What do we have?” Jackal asked, taking the pilot’s seat. He closed his eyes, and interfaces with the ship’s computer. Opening them, screens floated in the air before him. “Incoming ship.” He typed, looked at a different screen. “Not Law.” “That’s good.” “As a reminder,” Quigly said over comms. “You push the engines and we don’t have to worry about anyone catching us!” “Tibs, I’m going to need you to go your magic in that case.” “On it.” A swipe changed the view. He dropped toward the other ship, scanning for communication port and forming programs. Keys and pick and pry bars to get into the locks that would try to keep him out. They were in, turning one, putting the digital pins in place, then it turned and he was in. He landed with code that barely made a ripple across the street. Building on each side, alleys. Guard and thugs waiting to stop him if they noticed him. Notice his code impacting the structures. He hurried, but didn’t have to worry. He was in jacked up time. Not quite at the speed of a computer, but close enough it wouldn’t matter until he was in a fight. He unlocked a door and entered. Instead of the lodging the house implied, he was in open code, searching for something that would let him shut the ship down, or convince them they were on a false trail. There were many ways he could trick the computer. He just had to find one that worked without getting him caught. He made alterations, careful of the cascade they’d cause. He needed it to go in a specific way so the ship’s coercionist would— “Over here!” He cursed. He didn’t have the time to wonder which trigger he’d tripped. He locked the door, moved around the code, looking for the exit. Found it, opened it and locked the door behind him. Then found himself facing an armored guard. He reached for him, its code stretching in ways his mind told him armor couldn’t. He threw himself aside, then ran. He didn’t know why he saw computers the way movies depicted pre-technology societies. The city he was from hadn’t been that technological, but more than these antiques. He coded himself armor and weapons. He wanted a gun, but always ended up with bows. It didn’t matter; he knew. They were nothing more than representations; they’d do damage either way. Guns just looked better. He coded himself to the roofs, then jumped over an alley, shooting the arrow and piercing the guard. He grinned. At least he was a master shot with them. He dropped down, reached the street, looked for a door that would take him somewhere away from here and, hopefully, closer to a solution. He sent the picks ahead of him, closed the door behind him, and dodge code. Engine calibration programs. This could work. He altered the code, but instead of doing what it was supposed to, it stuck to his digital fingers, stretched and coated him. A trap. He’d walked right into a trap like some kid who didn’t know what he was doing. “So there’s the would be thief,” the voice said. “Tibs, isn’t it?” He cursed, struggling to get out of the code. If they knew his name, this was someone they’d dealt with before. That never led to good outcomes. “Who are you?” Information was power, and he needed some. “Come now. Surely you recognize me.” “I’m inside the computer. I don’t see you.” “Ah, yes. Then maybe after the time you’ve spent with my son, you should know me well at this point.” “Sebastian.” They were fucked. “I’m glad I made an impression. Now, how about you open a communication to your ship so I can explain to that wayward son of mine how this will go?” Before Tibs could tell the man to go fuck himself, something happened to the code. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that to happen.” It realigned itself, became proper code, and let Tibs go. “Who are you? What is going on?” Sebastian demanded. A form appeared next to him. It wasn’t someone made of the computer’s code, but an impression within it. Lots of red. “If you’ve heard of me, you know me as the Crimson Pirate. Silly, I know, but I was under pressure when I had to come up with a moniker. As for what’s happening? Had had a conversation with your computer and it decided it liked me better than you. And considering what it’s told me about you, Sebastian Wells, I can’t say I blame it. No wonder your son wants nothing to do with you. I thought my dad was pretty bad.” “You will regret this, whoever you are.” “I don’t think so. Jackal’s told me enough about his father, I expect he wouldn’t mind if I killed you, but I try to avoid doing that. So you’re going to stay here while we continue on our way. By the time you get your computer back up, you should have enough to do that you won’t bother us. Feel free to come looking for me at some point. It’d be interesting to see what I decide to do to you when I’m not busy with something more important. Tibs, you good to head back? I’ll deal with them.” He nodded and disconnected. “Great work,” Jackal said. “There not following.” He brought up the screens and watched Jackal’s father’s ship shrink. “It wasn’t me. It was your friend. Your dad had me trapped.” “That was—” Jackal swallowed. “Oh, fuck. If he picks up the chase, we are in so much trouble.” “He won’t.” The man entering the bridge looked nothing like his digital presence. Merc attire, utilitarian, with a gun at his belt. Gray, with only some red in the highlights. “It’s going to take them a few days to reboot their ship. We’ll be out of scanner range by then, and they’ll find they have no information on your ship anymore.” “I wish you’d blown them up, Alex,” Jackal said. “Cold blooded murder is something I do my best to avoid doing. It’s how I ended up needing therapy. Any idea on the ETA?” “It’s three months if we aren’t interrupted. As soon as I’m sure we aren’t followed, I’ll order everyone into cryo.” He looked over his shoulder. “You going to be in my bed for that?” “We just got out of it.” “So?” “I’m not taking you in mine,” Tibs said without having to look at them. He and Jackal were the only ones with stasis field cryo, and his friend had stated he had a bad reaction to the chem-cryo. Tibs was confident it’d been a needless ploy to get in Jackal’s bed. Cryo was cryo. People didn’t ‘react’ to it. Jackal let any willing guy into his bed, especially if he already knew them. But Tibs wasn’t letting that get used to get into his. That Jackal’s friend want sex or not. Tibs had strict rules about who he’d have sex with. No one. “Then I guess I’ll have to.” “Thanks for getting my dad off my back, Alex.” “Think of it as part of how I’m paying for my passage.” “You know you could stay, right? You’d be great to have on the crew.” The man chuckled. “I appreciate the offer, again. I’ve told you. I have some place to be, and someone to meet. I’m not looking for a boyfriend at the moment. I’ll meet you in your room once you give the message for cryo.” Jackal watched his friend leave. “He’s got someone special,” Tibs said. “I’m willing to share.” “Your friend isn’t.” “Maybe his guy will be.” Tibs shrugged. Those relationships weren’t for him. So he knew nothing about how they went, other than what Jackal told him. And he knew Jackal’s views of them weren’t the same as most people. “We need to get the ship ready,” he said to distract his friend, surrogate brother, and captain. Jackal nodded, brought up screens and typed. “Okay. From the top. State of the engines?” Tibs looked at him. “You really want me to answer that?” “Quig is still bitching?” “Quig is trying to keep us from blowing up when we have to run.” “Can we get him replacement parts?” “If your friend pays. Probably.” “He will. He’s good for it.” “Have you seen his money?” “He’s good for it.” Tibs certainly hoped so.