Jean felt a burning pride in his stomach as he stared at the access hatch to the first battle cruiser they’d claimed as pirates. It had taken time and significant forethought, but the culmination of that planning resulted in a clean operation.
According to the initial reports, the designers intended the ship to be a transport and delivery vessel for soldiers on the front line of battle. It wasn’t as heavily armored as the Scaladorian Mobile Battle Station, nor was it as deadly as a dreadnaught. Cruisers in their navy fell somewhere between the two, acting as the jack of all trades in space warfare. Smaller than a frigate, these ships could comfortably host two hundred soldiers, and capable of supporting nearly three hundred in a pinch.
And it belonged to the humans now.
In the grand scheme of things, a cruiser wasn’t really anything to write home over. If engaged in a standup fight between two equal opponents, the ship—crewed by inexperienced humans—would be blasted into plasma before they knew what hit them. Luckily for the future crew of this mighty vessel, Jean didn’t plan on fighting fair.
“Rodney, if you would be so kind,” Jean said to the tech, who instantly complied with the request, tapping a series of buttons on his datapad and opened the door. As they walked inside, the pirate king looked at each metallic panel and doorway they passed like a toddler entranced by his first visit to an aquarium. He’d never chosen to join the AHF, believing that doing so would be tantamount to turning his back on a struggling Earth.
“Sir, based on Mik’t’s initial survey of the ship, we have a long way to go before it’s ready for our first raid.” Rodney said, nose still glued to his datapad as they navigated toward the bridge. “For starters, Mik’t says there should be a small parts fabricator on board that will allow us to create a non-lethal toggle so we can bring down shields and immobilize a ship instead of destroying it.”
“Yes. But do you know what this is?” Jean replied, brushing off the issues and simply reveling in the ownership of the cruiser.
“A headache? Jean, I know you want to see the best in this, but we need to convert the entire ship for human use. Between that, upgrading the weapons, hardening the armor, and doubling up on shield generators, we have more work than we have time.” Monique said, touching a chair meant for a Scaladorian.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“No. It’s so much more than just work and a headache.” Jean whispered, the future flashing before his eyes. Fleets of ships all under the command of human pirates passing through his mind like a daydream on a summer's day. In this future, Narax was a bastion of freedom where neither the United Human Republic nor the Stygiboran Empire could flex their will. He believed that with time, the barren planetoid could culture a true natural biome instead of the synthetic monstrosity it currently was.
He sat in the captain's chair and leaned back, resting his metallic fingers on controls never meant for human hands. It wouldn’t be long. After Rodney completed his work, the ship would serve as the perfect calling card to demonstrate the fearsome nature of humans.
No, they weren’t like the AHF. These people weren’t professional killers, trained to defend worlds against hordes of enemy forces while protecting the civilian populace. They were simply people, caught up in a war they never wanted to join. In that war, their choices were simple; to fight, or to become slaves to the highest bidder.
“This ship—our ship—represents us. The humans of Earth, long forgotten and overlooked by the Republic. It is a reminder of who we were and who we are, a symbol of who we can be. Because of this, we can become a home for misfits of both factions—a neutral ground where alliance to a crown doesn’t matter, and only justice prevails.
“The religion, law, and restrictions of your people won't matter here. Only the heart of justice, as proven by those who would call it their home. Yes, it is often true that morality and justice are determined by the people currently holding a sword to the throats of the beaten, but what if we found a way to counter the attacks imposed by either group?” Jean said animatedly, outlining the dream of world truly for the many and not the few.
“Is this part of your insistence of rebuilding Port Royal?” Monique asked, familiar with Jean’s ideology and what he wanted to accomplish.
“Yes.”
“And what about the bad parts of the pirate city? The children enslaved because they weren’t strong enough to hold up that sword and defend themselves? The women who were assaulted because they demanded coin for their attention? What about those who were determined to be from 'lesser races,' and were traded for little more than a sack of grain or a barrel of rum?
“I believe we can rise above this, that people who want true freedom will police themselves.” Jean closed his eyes and watched the dream of his refuge fade as Monique made legitimate arguments against his philosophy. He could speak all day about this dream, but in his core, he knew it was impossible to achieve a utopia. He knew that greed would always overcome selflessness, and it made him sad. “But, my dear Monique, if my dream of a world without pain is unachievable, then I will have to settle for survival.”
