Chapter 99

Captain’s Terms

“We need a captain for a ship,” Alexander said. “And crew to run it.”

“Short term or ongoing?”

“Permanent position.”

“Your ship?” she asked.

“We’re borrowing one.”

Carmen studied him for a moment. The professional mask was firmly in place, but Alexander caught the calculation behind it. “Let’s call it what it is. Stolen.”

Alexander didn’t argue. He just grinned, easy and self-aware. “Fair enough. It’s a quirk of mine. I know it’s silly.”

Something shifted in Carmen’s expression. The corners of her mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. The tension in her shoulders eased fractionally. She’d been braced for evasion, for carefully crafted lies. Getting honesty instead seemed to throw her a little off balance.

In a good way.

“Alright then,” she said, leaning back. “Whose ship are you stealing?”

“Santiago Systems.”

Carmen went still. Her gaze moved between them again, reassessing. Then she nodded once, slowly. Acceptance, maybe even a hint of satisfaction.

“I can work with that,” she said.

Augustus raised an eyebrow. “Can you?”

“Let’s just say I won’t lose sleep over it.” Her tone was neutral, but there was steel underneath. “What type of vessel?”

“Luxury yacht, but built to near frigate scale with corvette armaments,” Augustus said. “That’s all we can share.”

“How do you plan to take a corporate vessel without being flagged as pirates the moment you hit galactic space?”

Augustus glanced at Alexander.

Alexander considered for a moment, then met her eyes. “I’m a Technopath. The vessel won’t be flagged as stolen.”

He didn’t elaborate. Carmen watched him, clearly sensing there was more to it than that. Her fingers drummed once against her knee before she controlled the tell.

“You’re wanted on Earth,” she said. “What’s my legal position working for you?”

“Complicated,” Alexander said.

Augustus shifted. “We’re wanted by AEGIS and the UEG across all human territories. Classified as supervillains with bounties on our heads, the full treatment.”

“And galactically?” Carmen pressed.

“We’ve committed no crimes,” Alexander said. “Superhuman designations exist in a grey area under galactic law. The Council won’t love us, but working for us isn’t illegal outside human space.”

Carmen’s gaze sharpened. “And in human space?”

“Could complicate your movements in human space,” Augustus said. “As long as the ship is properly registered under galactic law, and you don’t disembark at UEG-controlled stations, our supervillain designations are essentially unenforceable.”

Carmen’s eyes narrowed. “Essentially?”

“You’d need to avoid UEG ports,” Alexander said. “No docking, no shore leave at UEG stations. In Sol, that limits you to independent stations like Astra Omnia. Outside human territory, you’re fine.”

“And if we do dock at a UEG station?”

“Then you’re subject to UEG law,” Augustus said. “Which means their warrants become enforceable. You could be detained, questioned, and potentially charged as an accessory depending on what they can prove.”

Carmen nodded slowly, processing. “But as long as the ship stays in transit, or docks at non-UEG ports…”

“You’re a civilian captain working a legitimate contract under galactic law,” Alexander finished. “The UEG can’t touch you for that.”

“It’s still very limiting,” she said.

“Very,” Augustus agreed. “But it’s legal.”

Carmen sat back. Her expression remained controlled, but Alexander caught the slight tightening around her eyes.

“What are the actual risks?” she asked finally. “To me. To any crew I bring on.”

“Santiago Systems will hunt us,” Alexander said. “Gabriel Santiago personally. I’m sure I don’t need to explain his resources and reach.”

“Bounty hunters,” Augustus added. “Though we’re hoping most won’t follow us into non-UEG space. Too much legal complexity.”

Carmen’s gaze shifted to Augustus. “And my crew?”

“Same risks,” Augustus said. “Anyone who signs on needs to understand what they’re getting into. We won’t hide it from them.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Can they come back?” Her voice was level. “If they decide it’s not for them after a few months?”

Alexander and Augustus exchanged a glance.

“Yes,” Alexander said. “As long as nothing ties them to any criminal activity during their employment, they’ll be fine. We won’t stop them. But they’d need to be careful. Santiago’s people might question anyone who’s worked for us.”

Carmen’s jaw set. She’d been struggling for two years, barely surviving. Now she was weighing that against working for wanted supervillains who were honest enough to tell her exactly how bad it could get.

“Before we go further,” Carmen said, her voice taking on an edge Alexander hadn’t heard yet. “If you were to offer me the job, and I were to accept it, then I need to be clear about something.”

She leaned forward, holding his gaze.

“I don’t care what AEGIS calls you. I don’t care what Santiago thinks about you. But if you’re asking me to traffic people, move weapons to terrorists or pirates, target innocents or the military, we’re done. Right now.”

The words came out level and matter-of-fact.

“And if you ever ask me to put my crew at risk to save your own skins,” she continued, “I’ll space you myself.”

Silence settled over the room for a beat.

Alexander found himself respecting her more for the clearly defined lines. Unwavering principles on what mattered were exactly what they needed in a captain.

“We’re not asking for any of that,” he said simply.

“Good.” Carmen sat back, but the steel remained in her posture. “One more thing. If you hire me, the ship is mine to run. You set the destination and mission parameters. But you don’t override my calls on ship operations.”

Augustus smiled. “That’s exactly why we’re hiring a captain instead of trying to run it ourselves.”

“Then we understand each other,” Carmen said. Her expression relaxed. The assessment was complete, and now it was time for business.

“Let’s discuss compensation.”

***

Lawrence Webb arrived five minutes late and swaggering. Alexander watched him drop into the chair uninvited, all confidence and grin, and knew within thirty seconds he wouldn’t work.

The resume was solid. Six years commercial freight, including contested space runs that most captains wouldn’t touch. Fighter pilot background meant he could think fast under pressure, handle high-stress situations. The dishonorable discharge was actually a point in his favor. Refused orders to abandon a colony under pirate attack, went back to defend the evacuations anyway against direct commands. Principled under pressure. Exactly the kind of person they needed.

But the kid couldn’t get out of his own way. Every answer came with that cocky grin, that absolute certainty he was the right choice. No doubt. No caution. No recognition that working for wanted supervillains might require a different approach than simply being a fighter pilot in all his glory. Just swagger and the assumption that his resume spoke for itself.

“I’m the guy,” Webb said, leaning forward with that easy confidence. “I know what you need, and that’s me.”

They thanked him and sent him on his way.

“Too young,” Augustus said once the door closed.

Alexander nodded. “Give him time and maybe. Right now? That overconfidence will get people killed.”

James ‘Red’ Kavanaugh was next, and he didn’t swagger. He shuffled.

The smell of liquor hit Alexander before the man even sat down. Kavanaugh was maybe late thirties, weathered in the way spacers got after years of recycled air and stress. His clothes were clean enough, his posture straight despite the obvious drunkenness, but his words slurred at the edges.

The resume was excellent. Thirteen years of experience, most of it in the grey markets. Smuggling operations, mercenary work, enough time navigating galactic law to know exactly where the lines were and how to dance along them. His last posting showed he’d gotten his entire crew out alive when outnumbered three-to-one by pirates. Good priorities under pressure.

But he was drunk. At a job interview. With supervillains.

“Look,” Kavanaugh said when Alexander brought it up directly. “I know how this looks. But I can sober up anytime. It’s just been a rough couple years.”

Classic alcoholic reasoning. The kind of promise that meant nothing when things got difficult.

They thanked him and ended the interview early.

“Shame,” Augustus said after he’d left. “His experience is exactly what we need.”

Alexander agreed. “But we can’t trust someone who shows up drunk to a job interview.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the decision settling between them.

“Carmen Reyes,” Augustus said finally.

Alexander nodded. The blacklisting wasn’t a concern. Standing up to Goliath was a point in her favor, not against. But two years unemployed meant desperation, and they had bounties big enough to tempt anyone. Still, she’d been honest about her boundaries, professional in her assessment, and her experience spoke for itself. More importantly, she understood the risks and hadn’t flinched.

Maybe even trustworthy. As much as anyone could be in their situation.

“She’s expensive,” Alexander said.

“Worth it.” Augustus leaned back. “Webb might get there someday. Kavanaugh could have been perfect if he’d stayed sober. But Carmen? She’s ready now. And we don’t have time to find other candidates.”

Alexander pulled up the System’s comms interface and made the call.

Carmen answered within seconds, her face appearing on the small holographic display. She still had her practiced composure, but something in her posture showed she’d been waiting.

“We agree to your terms,” Alexander said without preamble. “Four hundred and fifty thousand per year. Two hundred and fifty thousand signing bonus, paid upfront. You select your crew, we retain veto rights.”

Carmen’s expression didn’t change, but something in her posture eased. Relief, carefully controlled. “Understood. I’ll need the ship specifications and crew requirements.”

Alexander sent her what he could, still withholding the exact details about the ship. “Timeline is as soon as possible. Days, if you can manage it.”

She reviewed the list quickly, eyes moving across the data with the speed of someone who knew exactly what she was looking at.

“I can assemble this crew. But I’ll need additional funds. Getting people to Astra Omnia on short notice isn’t cheap. Two hundred thousand should cover transport and accommodations. And any problems.”

Alexander considered it. It wasn’t unreasonable, given the timeline and the number of people she’d need to move.

“Agreed. Do we need a formal contract?” he asked.

Carmen actually laughed. It was a pleasant sound, genuine amusement breaking through. “I’m not stupid enough to steal from supervillains. Even the nice kind.”

Alexander smiled at that. “Fair point.”

He initiated the transfer through the System’s interface. Four hundred and fifty thousand credits moved seamlessly from their account to hers. The signing bonus and operational funds, delivered instantly with nothing more than a thought and authorization.

The System made managing money almost trivially easy. He still didn’t like how reliant they were becoming on it.

“Funds transferred,” he said. “Keep us updated on your progress.”

Carmen nodded. “You’ll have your crew within three days.”

They ended the call.

Three days to work out a plan to borrow one of the most expensive luxury yachts in existence, belonging to one of the most powerful and wealthy humans in the galaxy, from one of the most highly guarded space stations in Sol.

Easy.

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