Battleship Raider by Paul Tomlinson (book recommendations website .txt) 📗

“I’m counting my blessings,” I said, staring down at what he was fastening around my ankle. The bulge on one side of it was a tracking device. The bulge on the other side was an explosive. The tracker monitored my location in relation to a second device – a little box attached to Old Jack’s gun belt. If I moved beyond a certain range, the explosive would blow my leg off. I was familiar with the device – I’ve been in penitentiaries that use them. And I’ve seen wives fit them to their husbands.

Old Jack strode out of the Celestia and addressed me and the robot. “My boys are going through the ship, boxing up anything of value. I want you two to carry them into the hold.”

“You want us to carry your men?” the robot asked.

“I want you to carry the boxes up the ramp and stack them neatly inside the container. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master,” the robot said.

“Yes, master,” I mimicked.

Old Jack scowled at me. He looked up at the robot. “And if he tries to escape,” Jack pointed at me, “you are to stop him, before he gets far enough to blow himself up. Got it?”

The robot nodded its head slowly.

Old Jack turned to Blondie. “Watch both of them. I’m going for the Navigator.”

The old captain disappeared back inside the battleship. He was in for a big disappointment when he got to the vault.

The first of the crates of swag were sent out a few minutes later. I popped open one of the big black boxes – it was filled with handguns, rifles, and ammunition. Other boxes held the decapitated security robots. This was going to be quite a haul for the pirates. And it would probably be their first trip of many.

Our platinum blond pirate guard told us to stop looking and start loading. I was rapidly going off him. And the daylight showed up the flaws in his complexion. The robot picked up one of the big crates as if it weighed nothing. I struggled with one of the smaller ones.

After about twenty minutes, Old Jack Sterling stomped back out. His face was dark with anger. He was holding a Bertie the Bear toy in one hand and a big gun in the other.

“Where’s the Navigator?”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Old Jack threw the stuffed toy at my feet. “Where is it?” he asked again. He pointed the big gun at the middle of my forehead.

Blondie decided he would rather be somewhere else and edged away.

“The Navigator was gone before I opened the vault,” I said. I was too tired to be scared. “Somebody switched it for Bertie.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

I shrugged. “You’ll have to ask the robot. The Navigator wasn’t in there, I swear. But I did find your late crew member’s severed arms – they were on top of Bertie.”

Old Jack looked like he didn’t know what to believe. “Robot! Get over here.”

The robot ambled towards us. Old Jack pointed the big gun at its face. “Where is the Navigator?”

“The Navigator was taken from its vault immediately after the crash,” the robot said. “It is no longer on the Celestia.”

Old Jack turned towards me, keeping the gun on the robot. “Is it telling the truth?”

“Can robots lie?” I asked.

“Good point.” The old pirate turned back towards the robot. He lowered the gun. “Who could have taken it?” he wondered aloud.

“Who else knew it was here?” I asked. I knew Old Jack hadn’t been the only survivor of the battleship’s crew to make it down onto Saphira. I thought it best to direct his suspicions towards them – especially now that I had figured out where the Navigator was.

“I reckon it must have been Piggy Partridge,” Old Jack said to himself. “The sly old crook is getting his revenge from beyond the grave.”

“Piggy Partridge?” I said. “What happened to him?”

“Never you mind,” Jack snapped. “You two get back to work. I want everything loaded before nightfall.”

I watched him stomp away and wished him a slow and painful death. Neither I nor the robot made any move towards the pile of crates that needed loading. We were alone, for the moment. Blondie had beaten a hasty retreat when Old Jack appeared and had not yet returned.

“You did not answer his question fully,” the robot said. It was the first time it had spoken to me directly since it had been restrained. It had a deep masculine voice – you could imagine him reading the news or reciting Shakespeare.

I looked up at him. “Did you want me to?”

“I am grateful that you did not.”

“The Navigator is inside you,” I said.

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough,” I said. Subconsciously, I had known for some time – or so I told myself. But it was only when I had seen the robot avoid direct answers to Old Jack’s questions that I really knew. The clumsy alterations to the robot’s chest cavity were an obvious clue that I had missed in all of the previous excitement.

“I would prefer that this fact not be shared with the others,” the robot said.

If Old Jack asked me directly, would I reveal the Navigator’s location? If he asked me, no. But if he tortured me, I’d probably give it up. And hope to be able to steal it back later.

“Your secret’s safe with me, chief,” I told the robot.

“Why are you two just standing there?” The blond numbskull had returned.

“Nobody told us what to do,” the robot said.

“Get back to work,” the young pirate said.

“Yes, master,” the robot and I said in unison.

Had the robot just lied to our guard? This question only occurred to me later.

When we were both inside the cargo lifter’s hold – and out of earshot of the leather-clad cyber-pirate – the robot stopped in front of me to prevent me from going back outside.

“I would like to request a favour,” it said.

Only a few hours ago, this hulking machine had been trying to