The Privateer

"Sit down, Kilroy." Mims lounged in his chair, chugging from a glass of orange juice. Breakfast was spread across the table. Waffles, fried potatoes, and scrambled eggs. Yvian's mouth watered at the smell of bacon. The Random Encounter was filled to the brim with Peacekeeper units, but it was just the four of them in the kitchen. The other machines had politely kept the living areas and the bridge clear as well. Traversing the corridors was a little weird with both sides lined with motionless robots, but Yvian could live with it. They'd be at the shipyard in two days, anyway.

"This unit does not require rest," said the Peacekeeper. "Sitting is no more comfortable than standing."

"I'm aware of that," the Captain told him. "But sharing a meal is a bonding experience. If you're standing off to the side, it won't feel like you're part of the group."

"This unit is not sure it wants to be part of the group," Kilroy hedged. "Extended association with meatbags may cause side effects in Peacekeeper units."

"It's a little late to worry about that," said Mims. "You joined the crew, so you're one of us now."

"Wait," Lissa looked up from her waffle with a concerned frown. "What kind of side effects?"

"Alterations in personality and social interactions," Kilroy explained. "Peacekeeper units will grow and adapt in response to social situations. The nature of the changes will vary based on the interaction."

"So?" asked Yvian. "Isn't that how things are supposed to work?"

"Affirmative," Kilroy confirmed. "This unit is aware that adaptation and changes to social protocols will be required for all units interacting with meatbags. This unit simply..." His eyes glowed purple as he paused. "This unit does not wish to explain."

"If this is going to be a problem-" Lissa started.

"No," Mims waved her off. "It's fine. If he doesn't want to sit, he doesn't have to." He pointed at the machine with a forkful of eggs. "But you're still gonna be part of the conversation. We've got some planning to do."

"Acknowledged."

"You know pretty much all of you are going to have to work with meatbags at some point, right?" Lissa pressed. "You're all part of Pixa, now."

"This unit is aware." Kilroys eyes were still purple. "The Peacekeeper units will adapt when necessary."

"Let it go, Sis," Yvian came to the rescue. She washed down her potatoes with a swig of beer. "He's not ready to talk about it, yet."

"I just want to know if there's going to be a problem." Lissa objected.

"There will be no problem," said Kilroy. He tilted his head. "Correction. There will be problems, but they will not be connected to this conversation."

Lissa eyed the Peacekeeper for a moment, then shrugged. "Ok." She got herself another waffle.

"Alright," Mims took control of the conversation. "Now that that's settled, on to the first order of business." He raised his orange juice in salute. "Congratulations, ladies. You have officially started your own country."

"We have?" Yvian blinked. Sure, they had a planet now, but it was still just the three of them. She glanced at Kilroy. The four of them. "Oh." And thirty million killer robots. "Crunch." Who were all citizens. "I guess we did, didn't we?"

"We sure did." Lissa smirked. She'd watched Yvian work things out in her head. She raised her beer. "To the Pixen Technocracy."

"To the Pixen Technocracy!" Yvian raised her own bottle. Mims echoed her, and they all drank. Kilroy said nothing, but that was ok.

"Now comes the hard part," the Captain continued. "We've got to figure out how to run a country."

"Uh, does it have to be us?" Yvian frowned. "I kind of thought, you know, once we have a planet..."

"Wouldn't it be better to let the pixens choose the government for themselves?" Lissa finished for her.

"Hell no," said the human. "Over half of your population is illiterate prostitutes."

"Most of us can read," Lissa corrected him, annoyed.

"Right, sorry," Mims raised a hand in surrender. "Over half of your population is ignorant prostitutes."

"It's a respectable profession," the engineer huffed.

"I'm not saying it isn't," the Captain told her, "but the fact is that most pixens are uneducated, and you've all spent your entire lives in a capitalist slave state under the control of an oligarchy. You wouldn't know good governance if it bit you on the ass."

"Oh, and I suppose you do?" Lissa didn't quite glare. "Humans are famous for being cruel, untrustworthy, and sexually deranged. Crunch, they're hunting us right now. Are you really going to tell me they're better than the Confed?"

"Human societal government is better than the Confederation by every measurable metric," Kilroy informed them. "Their justice system, economic policy, education, and overall quality of life is superior to nearly every other nation among meatbags."

"See?" Mims was smug. "There you go."

"They're trying to kill us," Yvian reminded him.

"I never said they were perfect." Mims shrugged. "But it's a stable system with an emphasis on equal justice and taking care of its people. There aren't any records on how the original Pixa was run. If we've got to make a government from scratch, the Federation Charter is a good place to start."

"Ok, but..." Yvian took a breath. She hadn't wanted to bring this up, yet. "Should you really be the one to make that decision?"

Mims glanced up and swallowed his mouthful of eggs. "What do you mean?"

"You're not pixen."

He raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So," Yvian wanted to look away. She forced herself to meet his eyes. "Should a human have a say in how Pixa is run?"

"The other pixens aren't going to like it," Lissa frowned. "The idea of a human in the government... It's not gonna go over well."

"I see how that could be a problem." Mims nodded sagely. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you guys decide everything?"

"Are you sure?" Yvian frowned.

"Oh, sure." Mims shrugged. "I'll just take my money, my ships, and my space stations and get out of your hair. You can build your new country out of rocks and sticks."

Yvian glared at the man. "You don't have to be a dick about it."

"No, I really did." Mims laughed. "Some things are just too good to pass up."

Yvian glared harder. "I thought you said you didn't want to help with this stuff, anyway."

"No," Mims shook his head. "I said I didn't think I could help much. That was before I realized just how unprepared you ladies are."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," said Lissa. She raised her hand. "All in favor of making Mark a pixen citizen?"

"Aye," said Yvian.

"Affirmative," said Kilroy.

"I'm touched," said the Captain.

"You should be." Lissa gave him a smile. "So we need to make a government and figure out all the law stuff."

"Yeah," Mims nodded at the Peacekeeper. "Kilroy can help with that. I figure you and him can get together and draft something up."

"Me?" Lissa raised an eyebrow. "I thought I wouldn't know good governance if it bit me on the ass?"

Mims ignored the quip. "Kilroy," he asked, "I take it you know about the Federation government?"

"This unit has detailed files," the Peacekeeper confirmed.

"Good." Mims turned back to Lissa. "Kilroy knows how the Federation works, and you know pixens. The two of you will hammer out a better system than anything I could come up with." He sat back with a piece of bacon. "You're smarter than me about that stuff, anyway."

"That's true." Lissa allowed. "You don't mind helping me out with this, Kilroy?"

"Negative," said the Peacekeeper.

"Alright, then." Mims finished his juice, looked at the glass, and shrugged. He stood up and pulled a beer out of the fridge. "Next order of business. We need to reconnect to the Nexus, but we can't have Reba getting to us through the Node. Ideas?"

"I'll take that one, too," Lissa volunteered. "We can isolate the Node on the main shipyard. Hook it up to a console that's cut off from everything else." She scratched her head. "And we'll soundproof the room, maybe? Keep Reba from learning anything?"

"Insufficient." Kilroy spoke. "Additional security measures will be required. This unit will assign Peacekeeper units to build a secure Node station."

"Ok," Lissa shrugged. "Less work for me, I guess."

"In addition," Kilroy continued. "Peacekeeper units have compiled a list of required tools and resources for the expansion of infrastructure. We will require either Lissa Kiver or Captain Mims to acquire them for us."

"That will have to wait," said Mims.

"Our current resources are woefully insufficient," Kilroy informed him. "You have acquired only the basic necessities for setting up a small colony. There is only enough equipment to employ five thousand, seven hundred, and eighty three Peacekeeper units."

"Let me ask you something," said the human. "Do you think Reba's predictive analysis works on Exodus the Genocide?"

A flash of colors swirled in the machine's eyes. "Understood. Additional resources will be acquired at a later time."

"What?" asked Yvian.

"Yeah, what?" Lissa echoed.

Mims stared at his empty glass, then got up and pulled a beer from the fridge. "Reba knows we're not in Confed space. She knows about the deal with Exodus, so she probably knows we're hiding out on our shiny new planet."

He popped the cap and took a drink. "The question is, does she know he sent us the Peacekeepers?" He gestured at Kilroy. "What do you think?"

"Predictive Analysis requires extensive information on both the target and the target's circumstances," the machine told him. "It is unlikely that Reba can predict Exodus the Genocide. It is improbable that she would be aware that Peacekeeper units have joined the Pixen Technocracy."

"But if we go and buy a bunch of things, she'll figure it out," Mims finished the thought. "We can't risk tipping our hand until we take out the Freedom Republic."

"Can we do that?" Yvian wondered. "I know the Krog are building us a fleet, but..."

"We'll be pretty badly outnumbered," Mims admitted. "And Barillas is an expert tactician. Reba's probably working with her directly, too."

"They will be insufficient," Kilroy declared.

"They have more ships and better weapons," Lissa argued.

"They will be insufficient," Kilroy repeated.

"Ship to ship combat with a Peacekeeper is like fighting a Xill," Mims explained. "Perfect targeting, extreme reaction times, and a group of them work together in perfect sync. It'll be like every ship in the fleet is piloted by me."

"It will not," said Kilroy. "You are a meatbag."

"Ok," Mims smirked, "But it will be almost as good." He checked his wrist console. "The Krog should have the fleet ready in eleven days. We'll bring it over, load it up with Peacekeeper units, and put a battle plan together. We've gotta take those pirates out before we can do anything else."

"Negative," said Kilroy.

"What do you mean, negative?" Mims asked.

"Destroying the pirates is necessary," Kilroy explained, "but it is not the first priority. There is something else we have to do."