Jatouche (Pyreans Book 3)

by S. H. Jucha

  “So, without your partner, can you still make this deal happen?” Sandy inquired.

  “I’ve got most of the critical pieces,” Sika replied, “but I don’t have the customs connection, and I don’t have runners, who’ll be available, at a moment’s notice, to pick up the product and deliver it anywhere on station, no questions asked.”

  “Well, you’re in luck,” Sandy said. Leaning close to Sika’s ear, he whispered, “I’ve got a customs contact, and I’ve got many friends who’d be happy to run your product for a cut of that kind of payment.”

  Sika leaned away from Sandy. “I think I’ve said too much,” she said, setting her unfinished glass on the bar. As she leaned forward and braced herself on the bar to stand, she felt Sandy’s meaty hand grab her arm.

  “What kind of proof do you need that my offer’s not kinked?” Sandy hissed. “It’s not like I can produce some kind of summary of my extracurricular activities.”

  “Who do you know?” Sika challenged in return.

  Sandy leaned away from Sika and laughed. “Looks like we’re at an impasse,” he said. “It would be a shame if we can’t resolve this. Then nobody’s going to make any coin.”

  Sika stared at Sandy until she saw him fidget. She guessed that he was probably thinking he’d lost the opportunity. “I’ll tell you one thing,” Sika said, and saw Sandy focus on her. “My partner was a man named Roby. Apparently, he did something stupid and got killed for it.”

  “You bet he did. The idiot tried to kill Major Finian. He got taken down, and someone slipped into medical and dosed him,” Sandy explained. “But, here’s what you don’t know, Portia. I told you that you’re in luck. Roby was a close associate of mine. We’ve done jobs together for years.”

  “That would be nice to believe,” Sika said. “But you were the one who pointed out you don’t have proof of what you’ve done. You could be telling me what I want to hear.”

  “I could be,” Sandy allowed, “but what if I could prove I knew Roby and knew him well? What would it be worth?”

  “I’d split the profits seventy-thirty,” Sika offered.

  “If I’ve got to pay the runners out of my share, I need more. Fifty-fifty,” Sandy replied.

  “You can have forty. That’s my final offer,” Sika replied.

  “Done,” said Sandy, tapping his glass against Sika’s. He polished off his drink, and said, “Come on. The proof is in my cabin.”

  Sika followed Sandy nearly a third of the way around the station’s circumference. His cabin wasn’t much better off than that of the cantina, where they had met.

  “It isn’t much,” Sandy agreed, taking in Sika’s scowl, as they entered the cabin, “but then again, you don’t want to attract security’s attention.”

  Sandy sat at his kitchenette table, where his monitor was set up. He laid his comm unit aside, and picked up another device.

  “Whose is that?” Sika asked.

  “Supposedly it belonged to a friend of my grandfather,” Sandy replied. He hooked it to the monitor and searched out an account.

  “That device looks new,” Sika accused.

  “It is,” Sandy replied. “You don’t expect us to keep a fifty-year-old comm unit around and assume it will work. It’s been upgraded several times.”

  “You can’t upgrade a comm unit without the owner,” Sika argued.

  “If you have the right contact in security, you can transfer the comm ID to a new unit. It costs you some coin, but it can be done,” Sandy replied with a wicked smile. “Here … here is what I wanted to show you.”

  “A financial account?” Sika inquired.

  “Not any account. This is our stash. It’s an account that’s attached to a dead man,” Sandy said. “This way none of us have huge deposits in our personal accounts that we can’t explain.”

  “Okay, how does this answer my question?” Sika asked.

  “Look at this line,” Sandy directed. “Do you see the comm ID of that deposit?”

  “I see an enormous amount of coin,” Sika replied instead.

  “It is,” Sandy agreed. “Just the kind of amount you’d expect someone to pay to hire someone to kill Major Finian.”

  “I’m still waiting for my answer,” Sika said, allowing the slightest display of impatience to leak out.

  “Keep your skins on,” Sandy growled. “When these deposits arrive, we meet and embed our comm IDs into the deposits for dispersal. You’ll notice that this deposit is tagged with only one individual. Now, compare that ID to this device.”

  Sika took the offered comm unit. She was surprised to find it locked open. The IDs matched. She scrolled to the system settings and searched for the unit’s owner. It was Roby’s.

  “Why do you have this?” Sika asked.

  “I told you. Roby and I were close,” Sandy replied. “Roby told me what he’d been hired to do. I argued with him that it was too dangerous, especially with Finian being shadowed by a security officer and an empath. But he insisted. He said he had a foolproof plan, and the payday was worth it.”

  “Not so foolproof,” Sika commented.

  “Yeah, but his loss is my gain,” Sandy said, with a self-satisfied smile.

  “You get to keep his coin?” Sika asked.

  “No, rules of the crew. That coin has to be dispersed to everyone. I was referring to the fact that Roby’s demise has led you to me,” Sandy replied.

  “I’m curious. Who was the person who hired Roby?” Sika inquired.

  “Don’t know,” Sandy replied.

  “Didn’t you ask your friend in security?” Sika pursued.

  “Look. I didn’t ask for a good reason,” Sandy shot back. “Someone has a great deal of coin and was willing to kill a security officer. That’s someone I don’t want to know.”

  “That’s true,” Sika agreed.

  “So do we have a deal, Portia?” Sandy asked.

  “We do, Sandy,” Sika said, offering her hand.

  “Great. When do we get started?” asked Sandy eagerly.

  “I’ll make contact with the downsider and tell him I’ve got the distribution details arranged,” Sika replied. “When I’m on the return leg from the belt, I’ll notify him and you of my arrival date, and you can organize your people. Two days after my ship has docked, we’ll be in business. You and I will pick up the package at El customs. I’ll secure it, and then we’ll coordinate the runners and the delivery.”

  “Sounds good to me. You’ll have to give me a heads-up when you dock. I’ll need to check on my customs contact’s working schedule,” Sandy replied. “And now that our business arrangement is concluded, would you like to spend the night here?” Sandy offered, with a sly smile.

  Sika’s eyes narrowed, and she said, “You can have me or the coin, but you can’t have both. My rules. You decide.”

  “I think you and I would have had a good time, but I’d prefer the coin,” Sandy replied.

  “Me too,” Sika replied. She collected Sandy’s comm ID and quickly left.

  Sika waited until she’d traversed several corridors outward before she stopped and checked her comm unit. Surreptitiously, she’d taken an image of Sandy’s account page. She wanted to ensure the depositor’s ID for Roby’s payment was clear. It was. It saved her having to go back and force it out of Sandy, which meant she’d have to manage a cleanup job. That wasn’t her preferred manner of doing business.

  * * * *

  It was late evening, when Emerson received a visitor. He checked his comm unit, which held an image from his security cam mounted outside his cabin door. He didn’t recognize the attractive, middle-aged woman.

  “Yes?” Emerson asked, his voice issuing from his door panel in the corridor.

  “I’ve a compensation gift from Dorelyn,” the woman said softly into the comm pickup.

  “Emerson retrieved his shock stick, which he’d yet to surrender to security, and held it to his side, while he triggered the cabin door. When the woman entered, Emerson swiftly closed t
he door behind her.

  “Nervous?” the woman asked.

  “Being careful,” Emerson replied. “I’ve a good many secrets up here,” he added, tapping his temple with his free hand. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Joyce,” Sika replied. “I execute delicate contract work for family heads.”

  “What’s the gift, Joyce?” Emerson asked. He didn’t like the woman. He hadn’t invited her to sit down, but she’d already made herself comfortable on the couch.

  “I possess a final transfer,” Sika said, holding up her comm unit. “Consider it your last payment.”

  “Dorelyn could have made the transfer from her office. She didn’t have to send you,” Emerson challenged. He was getting suspicious of the woman.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Sika replied. “Your patron wants a guarantee that the secrets you possess will remain private.”

  “What kind of guarantee?” Emerson asked. For the first time, he was intrigued. What he knew was leverage, and he intended Dorelyn to pay dearly for his silence.

  “You record your role as an accomplice in Governors Andropov and Panoy’s machinations. You admit to taking their bribes,” Sika explained.

  “That’s a lot to ask,” Emerson replied. “Dorelyn could release the recording at any time.”

  “She’s provided a recording of her own,” Sika replied.

  “And how much is the gift, Joyce, for this exchange of mutual recordings?” Emerson asked.

  “One million in coin,” Sika replied. She watched Emerson lick his lower lip. It was one of the ex-commandant’s nervous habits that Dorelyn had carefully described to her.

  “I want to hear Dorelyn’s version first,” Emerson stated firmly. His mind was racing, trying to anticipate every trap.

  Sika promptly tapped her comm unit and played Dorelyn’s recording. She paid attention to Emerson, while Dorelyn spoke. The family head had recorded a sincere-sounding and damaging admission of complicity in station affairs. Emerson had his lower lip pinned in his teeth. He was hungering for the coin.

  “What’s your method of exchange, Joyce?” Emerson asked.

  “You make your recording on your comm unit,” Sika replied, “then I transfer half the funds to you. After you verify the transfer of coin, you send me your recording. Then I send you your patron’s recording and the other half of the coin. Is that acceptable?”

  “Yes,” Emerson replied cautiously. “Do you have a written statement for me?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Sika replied. She tapped on her comm unit’s screen and handed the device to Emerson.

  Emerson accepted the comm unit and sat down at his dining table to scroll through the statement. The thought of recording it scared him, but the enormous payment drove him forward. He mollified his fear with the idea that he would possess Dorelyn’s statement.

  Emerson picked up his device to record the message and took a moment to wipe his lips. He held Joyce’s unit in one hand, while he read the statement into his unit, which rested in his other hand.

  After completing the recording, Emerson set Joyce’s unit down and wiped his lips again. They’d begun to tingle, and he wiped them harder. The tingling turned into itching, and Emerson chose to lick his lips. “Excuse me,” he said, “I need to get a drink of water.”

  The ex-commandant struggled to make it to the kitchenette sink. His legs felt weak, and he braced himself on the counter for support. Slowly, his legs and arms failed him, and he slid to the floor. Unable to speak, Emerson stared silently in horror at the woman.

  Sika calmly stood, pulled a sealed bag from a pouch, and approached the dining table. She extracted a small bottle from the bag and placed it on the table next to Emerson’s comm unit. Then she picked up her contaminated device and slipped it into the bag. She examined Emerson’s comm unit to satisfy herself that the confession recording was displayed. The device would remain open and would provide a piece of evidence as to why the ex-commandant took his own life.

  A look into Emerson’s face revealed eyes that were watering and had difficulty tracking her. Sika waited for the final choke and gasp that were Emerson’s last signs of life. Satisfied, Sika stripped off her ultrathin medical gloves and dropped them in the bag. She used a kitchenette towel to squeeze the bag’s self-sealing activator. When it was closed and handling the bag by the towel, she dropped the bag and the towel into the pouch.

  A last glance around convinced Sika that the job was complete. Per Dorelyn’s request, the stationer who had hired Roby had paid the ultimate price.

  At the cabin’s door, Sika examined the security screen. No one was in the corridor at the moment. She used her elbow to trigger the door actuator and slipped out. As she walked down the corridor, she heard the whoosh of Emerson’s door as it automatically closed after five seconds.

  In a public facility, Sika disposed of her pouch, retrieved her change bag, and adopted the persona she used to ride the El. Adorned in the attire of a young wealthy downsider, she emerged from the facilities with glowing trans-sticks in her hair, a colorful costume, and an exuberant stride to match.

  -43-

  Rewards

  Harbour and Jessie reviewed their personnel arrangements: who was going to Emperion, who would stay on the JOS, and who would work on the YIPS. Their ships would sail the next day for Emperion. It was time for another slush run, and they had decided to spend their final day aboard the Belle. Most of Jessie’s crews, including the captains, were aboard the colony ship too, enjoying its amenities.

  Birdie had the comm, and she was sipping on a fruit drink, when her comm monitor lit up, displaying the image of Jaktook and Drigtik.

  “Welcome back,” Birdie exclaimed, after accepting the call. “Is it just the two of you?”

  The console’s view widened, and Birdie enthusiastically greeted Kractik, who flashed her teeth in response to a warm reception.

  “Wow, are you shipping the entire planet of Na-Tikkook here?” Birdie asked. She had a view of the platform, and teams of Jatouche were unloading crates, which joined growing piles on the deck. While Birdie chatted with the Jatouche, she messaged Harbour, Jessie, and Dingles. It said, “Jatouche are at Triton.”

  Harbour and Jessie came at a run onto the bridge, while Dingles worked to climb decks and cross half the length of the ship.

  Harbour expressed her joy at the return of the Jatouche, and each one of them was wishing they were in her presence to receive some of that emotion via her empathetic power. Nonetheless, the console view, which Kractik had switched to encompassing the threesome, was a display of furry faces highlighted by rows of sharp, white teeth.

  “Did Her Highness come with you?” Harbour asked anxiously. Immediately, the smiles were wiped from the faces of the Jatouche, and Harbour’s heart lurched.

  “It is with regret that I inform you, Envoy, that His Excellency’s health, which hasn’t been robust lately, has taken a turn for the worse,” Jaktook lamented.

  “What of your medical staff?” Harbour asked.

  “That is the heart of the matter, Envoy,” Jaktook replied. “The staff wishes to ease his suffering with techniques that would allow His Excellency to rest peacefully, but he will have none of their ministrations.”

  “Why not?” Jessie asked.

  “Much has transpired since you left for Triton,” Jaktook explained. “His Excellency insists on keeping his mental faculties alert so that he might advise Her Highness.”

  “Please send His Excellency my hopes for a speedy recovery,” Harbour said.

  “I’ll convey your message, Envoy Harbour,” Jaktook replied.

  The manner in which Jaktook spoke told Harbour that there was little expectation among the Jatouche that their ruler would recover. Rictook’s time among his citizens would soon come to an end.

  Birdie signed to Jessie to ask about the crates.

  “Jaktook, are you bringing three more sets of intravertor parts?” Jessie asked. “If so, it’s not time yet.”

/>   Kractik shifted the console’s view, and Harbour and Jessie had their first look at the mound of crates stacked across the deck. While they watched, the gate flashed, and more crates appeared.

  “Are you bringing the next three years’ worth of parts?” Jessie asked in awe.

  Jaktook’s sense of humor returned. None of the Jatouche wanted to dwell on their ruler’s health. What was happening was inevitable and expected, although that didn’t make it any more acceptable.

  “His Excellency Rictook sends his regards, Advisor. The crates you see around us are the beginnings of twenty-seven intravertors,” Jaktook explained. “These are part of the rewards that were promised for the services of the Envoy’s exploratory team.”

  “I’m sorry to report, Jaktook, we’ve only managed to build two of the last six sets that you sent. Our financial systems are strained,” Harbour said, with regret.

  The threesome of Jatouche exposed their teeth, indicating knowledge of a surprise, and Harbour held her in breath in anticipation.

  “Then it’s good that His Excellency’s generosity for your efforts, Envoy, are arriving now,” Jaktook announced. He waved his hand at the nearly full deck of crates, and said, “These aren’t intravertor parts.”

  A quick aside from Drigtik interrupted Jaktook, who continued. “Our engineer reminds me that in delivering my triumphant message I misspoke. These aren’t similar to sets of parts we’ve previously sent. They contain everything necessary to construct complete intravertors.”

  “Twenty-seven of them,” Drigtik interjected. “Based on your earlier statement, Envoy, I gather you could use another four shells.”

  “If you could,” Harbour replied. She was embarrassed to be requesting more help than that which was being offered.

  Drigtik touched his ear wig and spoke quietly, which made a note of the request.

  “Envoy,” Drigtik said, “I look forward to seeing my three engineer friends. Will they be available to work on the intravertor assembly with us?”

  “With you?” Harbour inquired.