The Pandora Chronicles - Book 1 (A Scifi Adventure Thriller) Read Online Free

vicinity, like brooms, hammers, or fishing knives.  
    Finnegan recognized the man as the priest from Anne’s tavern. Even as the crew surrounded him, he held a tight grasp on the ornate box he carried. Finnegan knew he would end up injuring himself if he kept resisting, most likely getting impaled by accident.
    “Halt!” Captain Finnegan’s voice reverberated like a cannon shot. The crew backed away, albeit still pointing their weapons at the priest. As the captain approached him, the latter raised his head, and a hopeful smile stretched over his lips.
    “C-Captain Finnegan,” he began.
    Finnegan did not allow him to finish his sentence. He grabbed the handle of his cutlass—a long, curved saber with a single, white pearl embedded within the full silver hand-guard—and unsheathed it with a single, swift, precise motion. The tip of the sword quivered at the priest’s neck, drawing the smallest drop of blood. The priest’s mouth froze mid-sentence, and he suddenly became very rigid. Only his eyes moved, darting from one side to the other.
    “Your name,” Finnegan coldly demanded.  
    The priest swallowed hard. His eyes darted towards the sword gleaming in the sun and then back towards its wielder.  
    “Father Rodriguez,” he replied.
    “Well, Father Rodriguez, it is by no means a pleasure to see you again,” Finnegan said. “I believe I refused your request to join my voyage. Did my answer last night count for nothing?” He let out a sigh. “But I suppose you are the wrong person to be answering that question.” He raised his head and looked at the entrance to the decks below.
    “I know you’re in there,” he yelled. “Come out this instance, or your friend is dead.”
    The crew murmured amongst themselves.
    “Quartermaster,” Finnegan ordered.
    “Sir,” the quartermaster replied, his whip at the ready.
    “In the next ten seconds, a woman of fair complexion shall emerge from within the crawl space beneath the stairs. Please, escort her to me.”
    “Aye, Sir.”  
    The quartermaster went inside, obeying his orders, and reappeared with Duchess Tier at his side. Finnegan smiled smugly as she shot him a glare. His crew’s murmuring escalated; no women were allowed on board and that was law. And this one was certainly different from the type of women they were used to.  
    When she spoke, they quieted down.
    “How did you know?” she asked.
    “When you spoke to me, you were both very attentive towards that box,” Finnegan explained, nodding at the box Rodriguez was clutching. “He refused to unclench it, whereas you made sure to shield it from sight. There was little chance, therefore, that the priest and the box were here alone.”
    Tier’s glare deepened, indicating her discomfort at the situation. Finnegan guessed she was not used to being outsmarted by men.
    “Which brings me to my next order of business,” Finnegan continued. He tapped the box with his sword. “The box, please.”  
    The priest’s eyes hardened, and it was clear that he was not giving it up. Finnegan knew he would sooner die than part from it. But even if Finnegan did kill Father Rodriguez, that did not guarantee the opening of the box, and a closed box is a worthless box.
    “Quartermaster,” he ordered. “Please, extract your pistol and point it at Duchess Tier’s head. Pull the trigger unless Father Rodriguez relinquishes the box by the time I finish counting to three. One!”
    The quartermaster pointed his pistol point blank at Tier’s temple.
    “You wouldn’t,” she yelled. “You’re not the sort who kills nonchalantly.”
    It was Finnegan’s turn to glare at her. “Do not presume to know me, Duchess,” he snarled, repeating the same statement he’d told her at Annie’s tavern. “By being on my ship, you are jeopardizing all of us. By simply acknowledging your presence here, I am going against my Letter of Marque. What you are suggesting is treason, turning us from privateer into pirate.