Chapter Three

Two sacks of laser components. Two bulging sacks.

Macro sorted through them, neatly arranging the lasers, barrels, filters, gears, screws, coils and heat elements into piles. There wasn't enough parts to meet the laser types. He'd gone a bit overboard with those. But seeing the parts laid out on his cockpit floor left him feeling tickled pink with glee.

"How many do you think we should give them?" Anchor asked.

"I'm thinkin' forty percent," said Macro. "Forty percent of the lasers. That means they get all the coils and most of the heat elements, and that leaves us with enough to sell on the black market."

Matrix picked up one of the coils and turned it around in his paws. "So that means we're taking a trip back to Pulse City?"

"Of course," said Macro as he gathered the items between two bags. "We need to refuel and clean out the septic tank 'n' all that jazz."

"That's cool," said Matrix. "I wouldn't mind checking out Assassin Strike anyway."

"We're not swinging by Boolean first to drop these off?" Anchor asked.

"As much as I'd like to do it all in one go, I'm not sure our fuel will last that long," said Macro. "I don't wanna be stranded anywhere."

"Suppose it makes sense. Just make sure you lock the rest of them away. Some of those pirates have got sticky paws."

"You know I'm always careful, Anchor."

The granbull snorted.

"Anyway," said Macro. "It'll be a nice change of pace to stop somewhere where less pokemon are after my head. Load up Pulse City, Matrix."

The ribombee returned to his spot by the navigation screen and keyed in the co-ordinates for Pulse City. Wildcard Gamma's location blinked on the screen as it rapidly zoomed out to reveal an intricate map of floating cities spreading across a void of black.

"Head due east," he said.

"Due east." Anchor stood and flopped into the driver's seat. "Gotcha!"

Macro hopped into the seat beside him and kicked his feet up onto the dashboard. The ship turned slowly then surged forwards, pushing him back into his seat. He buckled himself in and tucked his paws behind his head. With Wildcard Gamma's speed and efficiency, it wouldn't be too long until they reached Pulse City. He gazed out of the window at the passing stars blinking in the distance before they streaked by like silvery threads as his ship swam through the black sky.

...

Pulse City loomed before them, its abstract, jagged structure further emphasized by the array of neon lights that dotted its various entertainment districts. 'Docks' was sprawled over the entrance and was already filled to bursting with fish-shaped pirate ships. Wildcard Gamma slowly and carefully pulled in beside a gyarados, more so to avoid chipping the wishiwashi's paintwork than to prevent an encounter with a violent, moody pirate. Macro really didn't want to add another fresh layer of paint to cover a careless scuff on his prized ship.

The mawile hopped out of the exit hatch and landed in a crouch on the dirty docks. Despite the clean air that was in abundance in System Sky, space pirates weren't generally known for their cleanliness and care for nature. There were no wind farms up here, either. They were few and far between in System Sky due to the dramatic change in atmosphere that rendered air unbreathable unless on one of the islands where it was filtered to a safe level inside their plexiglass domes. Most cities got their energy from System Ground. Pulse City did just that... illegally. It wasn't unknown to the law enforcers, either. They'd do something about it if Pulse City weren't so dangerous. On more than one occasion the rogue city was plunged into darkness as the wireless signal leading up to the island was cut. On more than one occasion, Pulse City's biggest and baddest were sent down to the wind farm to 'fix things'. Eventually, the officials gave up and resigned to the illegal tapping of power.

The dock opened out into the neon-lit city streets. Pokemon of varying species stood outside the bars and clubs, talking loudly amongst themselves and laughing as frothy beer spilled over filthy glasses.

Matrix paused at the fork in the road and nodded to his right. "I'm gonna hit the games arcade."

"All right, pal," said Macro. "We'll see you in the lounge later."

The ribombee rose into the air and buzzed away into the busy street.

Macro gave Anchor a tap on the arm and marched down the central fork further into the vibrant city. Music blared from doorways, creating an incomprehensible racket as the mix of sounds clashed that somehow some pokemon actually managed to dance to. Or just leap up and down bashing into one another. One 'dance' had got a little out of hand as a skuntank sunk his teeth into the throat of a vigoroth. The sloth pokemon swung his arms and sent the large skunk soaring overhead to crash into a lamp post. The bulb blinked out as the skuntank's eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped to the ground.

Macro strolled past him without batting an eye, keeping his attention on the sign in front of him. 'Market' was all it said. Well... 'mar-et'. The green 'k' had fallen off at some point.

The bustling building roared as he strode through the door. Pokemon leant over stall tables shouting and bartering with the owners or squabbling as they fought over the prized items. Eyes fell on Macro and Anchor as they cut through the rabble, gazing curiously at the leather sack strung over the granbull's shoulder. Expressions turned to fascination or disgust, and in some instances fury, but the pirates kept their distance. The bounty didn't apply in System Sky. Only on System Ground, and pirates were never rewarded by the government anyway. Reputation was all that mattered in Pulse City and Wildcard Gamma had that in buckets.

Macro spotted his target stall. A low table manned by a sewaddle. The caterpillar pokemon sported a torn leaf over his head and his left eye was misted over with what looked like a cataract but was actually a thin layer of everstone. The small pokemon was one of many that had undergone cybernetic enhancement. Whatever he'd had done, it was internal. The everstone was a necessity for such enhancements and the pokemon chose where to wear it. Many opted to have it placed into their bodies in some way so they wouldn't lose it, and Worm had chosen to have it placed in his eye. It might have cost him part of his vision, but the benefits outweighed the negatives. The amount of stress evolution caused on the body would disagree with enhancements. They couldn't evolve like a standard pokemon could. They stayed the same size forever. The everstone was no fashion accessory, it was meant to stop him exploding.

"Good morning, Worm." Macro slammed his paws onto the table, grabbing the sewaddle's attention.

Worm's eyes widened briefly with surprise and he cleared his throat. "Not seen you in a while, Macro. What you been up to?"

"Business." The mawile nodded to Anchor. "We've got some stuff to sell you."

Worm huffed and he restrained himself from staring at the leather sack. "'Bout time. I'm runnin' dry here."

"Well, I think you'll appreciate this."

Anchor tossed the leather bag across the table and its contents spilled out beside the sewaddle. Heat elements and lasers pattered across the floor, and Worm curved his tail to stop them rolling under the table behind him. He let out a long whistle and stuck his head into the bag.

"Weapon parts!" He chuckled.

"Yup. And I'll do you a deal," said Macro. "Ten thousand credits for all that."

"Five."

"Seven. And I go no lower."

The small caterpillar sighed and flicked on his optical display. A sheet of green appeared over his right eye and he tapped at something Macro couldn't see from his position. The mawile's pouch beeped and his own display fired up of its own accord. An override. Worm knew what he was doing and he wanted Macro to be sure he'd actually paid. It saved accusations from pirates who'd lie in an attempt to scam.

Macro laughed and switched his display back off. "Pleasure doin' business with ya."

"As always." Worm began placing the parts on his table that were immediately predated upon by keen buyers. "No coils though. Not that I can see anyway."

"Sorry," said Macro. "They're all spoken for, I'm afraid."

"Can't spare any?" Worm asked. "I'll have a demand when pokemon get a look at all this."

"Nope." The mawile shrugged. "I've got a business to run and if I cut them out I lose a profit."

"What profit? You steal it all."

"A one hundred percent profit." Macro folded his arms and frowned at the bug pokemon. "If I sell some to you, I lose out."

Worm looked up at him and met his frown head on. "I'll give you seventy percent per coil."

Macro waved a paw at him and turned away.

"Eighty!" the sewaddle called. "Eighty-five!"

Macro looked back over his shoulder as he strolled away. "Look! If I get any more, I'll send 'em your way, right?"

Worm seethed silently and continued laying the parts on his table while trying to deal with the sudden rush of customers. Coils or not, those parts would fly off his stall. Laser parts often needed replacing, especially those custom built with the growing rise of a weapon ban.

"I'm gonna go get Matrix," Macro told Anchor. "I'll meet you back at the ship."

The granbull let out a grunt. "I was hoping to check out CyberTechnics before we took off."

"You're gonna buy bootleg technology?" Macro scoffed.

A weavile shot him a leer from a bar doorway and flexed his mechanical claws. Macro suppressed a chill down his spine and pretended he hadn't noticed.

"Pirates' gotta make a living somehow, Cap'n," said Anchor. "Besides. You should know yourself some of it's raided from System Ground."

"Yeh, well." Macro cleared his throat. "Just make sure it doesn't explode on my ship. I don't want to be dealing with another fire. You saw what happened to Wildcard Beta."

Anchor laughed and strode away from him down a narrow alley. "You're the one who won't shell out for a fire extinguisher, Cap'n. Ain't my fault."

Macro crinkled his muzzle and waved the granbull off as he followed the wider road around to the games arcade. The familiar, huge sign appeared above the tall buildings with Moonlight Lounge printed on it in giant, red letters against a white backdrop. The pixelated image of an inkay stood beside it with its tentacles raised, poised to strike.

Walking through the doorway was like walking into a cavern blocked up with a wall of stuffy, sweaty air. He dodged under the feet of a tyranitar, causing the large pokemon to side-step and slosh beer onto the floor. The monstrous, armored beast flashed his canines at him and stomped over to a low table to join a fraxure and vigoroth. The pair fixed the mawile with identical glares as they took their drinks from their tyranitar companion, and the small dragon pokemon took a huge bite from something that used to be some kind of water dwelling pokemon. The sight turned Macro's stomach and he pointedly averted his gaze to the rest of the lounge.

Glares and leers ran rampant amongst the occasional nods and smirks, but all of them washed over Macro like water off a ducklett's back. He found Matrix sat at an arcade terminal with a VR headset completely hiding his antennae. Whatever he could see was shown in first person on a large, holographic screen mounted on the wall. The ribombee was deeply engrossed in the game as his tiny paws raced over the control pad. Ordinarily, the game would be played with gestures and body movements but in such a crowded place it was common sense (and the laws of health and safety) to play them with a control pad. Such laws remained in Pulse City after the abundance of casualties that had resulted from senseless leaps and bounds from the larger pokemon who could see nothing of reality through their headsets.

Matrix wasn't alone, however. Three female pirates stood watching him, transfixed. Their attention drifted frequently from the screen to the small bug pokemon. Two of the girls were familiar to Macro as Matrix's 'fangirls'. The young froslass and illumise stood unnecessarily close while a completely unfamiliar bipedal zigzagoon leant against the game terminal on one elbow. The brown, sleeveless waistcoat she wore was immaculate - likely new - and just barely covered her belt and laser gun. A black and green checkered bandana covered her right ear and almost fell over her eye. She brushed it back when she saw Macro and a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Friend of yours?" She nodded to the small bug.

Macro let out a snort and slammed a paw down on the back of Matrix's chair. He didn't so much as flinch.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call him a friend," he told the zigzagoon. "You ready, Matrix?"

"Just a sec." Matrix leant forward slightly in his seat as he smashed one of the buttons frantically.

The zigzagoon chuckled and turned so she had her back on the machine. She folded her arms neatly, but her eye never left the mawile.

"I was gonna ask for his number," she said. "Then you showed up."

Macro snorted. "I wouldn't bother wasting your time."

"On him or you?"

"Either of us." Macro's eye drifted up to the game display as a set of claws sent a druddigon's head rolling across the tarmac floor. "I'm too busy, and despite being eighteen, I'm not even sure Matrix here even knows what a girl is."

"I know what a girl is, Macro," the ribombee retorted.

"Yeh? Well you don't act like it."

Matrix merely shrugged.

"Anyway," Macro went on. "Wrap this up. Anchor will beat us back to the ship at this rate."

"It's not a race," said Matrix. "Pull up a seat while I finish this level."

Macro sighed and leant on the back of Matrix's seat. No, it wasn't a race, but he wanted to refuel and hurry to Boolean City before it went dark. Again.

"Macro, right?" He heard the zigzagoon shuffle against the computer. "The name's Surge."

Macro looked up at her. She was still watching him, still wearing that smirk. He didn't know why she was introducing herself. He didn't even know the names of the other two girls, and he could have bet his goggles that Matrix hadn't a clue either. Even if they'd told him, it would have gone through one ear and straight out the other.

He grunted as he turned back to the computer screen.

"Well, isn't that interesting." She chuckled and shook her head. "I've seen your posters everywhere. So you use an alias? You've got quite the bounty on your head."

Macro's fur began to stand on end. He really didn't like where this was going. He reached over the chair and took the controller from Matrix's paws.

"Hey!" The ribombee removed his headset and span his head around to look at him.

"We're leaving." Macro tossed the controller onto the seat beside him and turned to march away.

Matrix shook out his antennae and fluttered after him, his wings creating a dull drone in the din of the lounge.

"You can't have a little patience?" Matrix whined.

Macro continued marching forwards, repressing the urge to check for both his lasers. It wasn't unheard of for a pirate to risk turning in another for a quick credit, and he was convinced he could still feel the zigagoon's eyes on him. He wouldn't feel as anxious if he'd seen her around before. New pirates came and went, but an unfamiliar face poking around and pointing out his bounty had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He took in a deep breath of outside air, refreshing after the stench of sweat and beer that filled the lounge. His feet kept moving along with a will of their own as he retraced his steps back to the docks. Matrix flew silently along beside him, occasionally glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

Every pirate they passed had a threatening air about them now. Crimson leers and flexed claws burned into him from bar doorways and outside tables, every tiny movement causing his eyes to flit towards them like a magnet to steel.

Matrix let out a long breath and shook his head. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeh," he said. "That zigzagoon fangirl of yours was asking too many questions."

"She was only trying to have a conversation with you."

"How long have you been a pirate for?" Macro locked the ribombee in a violet stare.

Matrix shrugged. "I dunno. Two years?"

"Well I've been one for a lot longer. I know what goes on in their heads. It's always money and survival. Making a profit. Looking out for Number One. No matter at what cost."

"So you didn't trust her."

"I didn't trust her as far as I could throw her." Macro paused and glanced back over his shoulder. "Which would be pretty far, believe me."

Matrix chuckled and adjusted his goggles on his head. They'd been shunted at a quirky angle from the head set making him look like a cartoon.

When the familiar, blue hull of Wildcard Gamma came into view, Macro felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Anchor was already stood beside it, tapping his foot as he stared at the fuel pipe. His nose twitched and he gave a curt nod as he took a step back from the ship.

"I thought I'd save you the job," he said. "Clean out is done. Just have to wait for the fuel tank to fill now."

He looked up at Macro and the mawile did a double-take. Anchor's right eye was covered by a silvery circle of glass encased in a silver frame. Leather straps looped over his right ear, holding the device in place.

"So you fell for one of CyberTechnics' new fads?" he scoffed.

Anchor grunted and looked back down at the pipe. "It's a heat tracker. I've been wanting one for like a month now, and after my share of today's profits, I could finally afford one."

Macro shook his head slowly and climbed up the neon ladder to board his ship.

"How long until we're fully fueled up?" he asked.

"Fifteen minutes," said Anchor.

"Great. Matrix, set co-ordinates for Boolean." He watched the ribombee zip past him. His next sentence came out a lot quieter, and he was convinced not even Anchor heard it. "I'm gonna have a lie down."