Spice Crimes

by Dale Ivan Smith

  She commed Zavon. She wanted the four people with him to hear this.

  “Zavon. We have a party of what looks like eight pirate-types outside, trying to force a way through the ramp door with a pneumatic hammer. Can you persuade the crew to aid us?”

  “Uh,” Zavon began, for once not Mister Suave. “I, uh, sure.” The comm clicked off.

  She leaned back and rubbed at her temples. Her mother would love to see the hot spot she and Zavon were in. She’d take a huge amount of joy in watching Khouri squirm, and even more in watching Zavon flounder about. Khouri wanted to tell her non-present mother that she should care more about her daughter’s safety than in being proven right, but her mother was all about being proven right. Funny how dangerous situations like this brought up those kind of imaginary arguments.

  A couple of minutes later, Zavon commed her. “They refuse to help,” he said. The confidence, normally so present in his voice, was missing.

  A headache started at her temples. She wasn’t sure if it was from the hammering or from the situation in general. “Try harder,” she said.

  But she knew it wasn’t going to work. Why would they help Khouri and Zavon? After all, she and Zavon had stolen their ship, with them onboard, somehow unconscious. She and Zavon had committed kidnapping along with theft.

  The hatch’s integrity wouldn’t last much longer. She’d have to hold the question about why the crew had been unconscious until later. The question of their survival loomed large, and had to be dealt with now.

  Khouri headed back down the stairs and stopped outside the room where Zavon stood watching the four crew. Mica caught sight of Khouri and gave her a nasty grin.

  “We need your help!” Khouri said, having to raise her voice over the sound of the hammer pounding against the ramp door a dozen meters away.

  Mica shrugged.

  “But they’re pirates,” Khouri pointed out. She came into the room. “How about you, Beck, will you help us?”

  “We’ve run into pirates before and survived,” he said. “Assuming you aren’t lying about them being pirates. You were the ones who hijacked our ship.”

  “Doubting me is no guarantee you will survive this encounter,” she pointed out. “Come on, you hear them pounding on the hatch outside.” The hammer banged loudly outside.

  He shrugged. “True. But if we don’t resist, they’ll…” he trailed off, and uncertain looked at Mica. “The captain would hate it if we let her ship get stolen twice in one day.”

  Yumi spoke up. “Tommy is right, Mica.”

  The Doctor was awake now, his face a mask of scorn. “You two idiots would be better off surrendering to us at this point.”

  “Not going to happen,” Zavon told him.

  Mica ignored the exchange, instead giving Khouri another hard look. “If we help you then you two help us return this ship and its cargo to our captain on Sherran Moon.”

  “Deal.”

  Zavon sniffed, and he gave a little headshake at Khouri. Clearly, he didn’t approve of her agreeing so quickly.

  “And then turn yourselves over to the authorities,” Mica said.

  Khouri froze. “We can discuss that when we’re out of this situation.”

  “Sure, I’ve seen how he discusses things.” Mica jerked her head in Zavon’s direction.

  The banging grew even louder. Khouri winced. The hatch wouldn’t last much longer.

  “Look, we didn’t use any violence taking your ship. You all were unconscious when we boarded, and in the spice lab, remember?”

  Mica glanced at Beck, frowning. “You and your special dishes.”

  “Hey, how was I to know that those combinations of ingredients and artificial spices would knock us all out,” Beck said.

  Alejandro looked down his nose at Beck. “You should never have been playing with artificial ’spices,‘ or whatever those were.” His words dripped with acid.

  “Recriminations are beside the point at the moment,” Yumi said.

  “Still their fault we are in this mess,” Mica said.

  “Fine, fine,” Zavon said. “Okay, so this was on us.”

  “You better believe it,” Mica said.

  “But let’s deal with consequences after we deal with them,” Khouri said.

  “Consequences include legal ones,” Mica pointed out.

  “Fine. Yumi, and Beck, do you agree?” Khouri asked them.

  They both nodded. “Works for me.”

  Khouri noticed no one asked the doctor’s opinion.

  “Go ahead and unlock them,” Khouri told Zavon. He hesitated. “Do it!”

  Zavon unlocked Beck first, and then Mica. Beck stretched. “Thanks, that was getting cramped.”

  Zavon nodded, reached down and unlocked Mica. She pulled away. Stretched. When Zavon looked away Mica cocked a fist. Khouri caught her eye but didn’t say anything. Mica tapped Zavon on the shoulder with her other hand. He turned and caught her fist in the face, staggering back.

  “That’s just for starters,” Mica growled.

  “Give it a rest,” Beck said, shaking his head. He held out a hand to Khouri. “How about a weapon.”

  She handed him a blazer. It was a good thing she and Zavon always carried spares.

  “Me, too,” Mica said. Khouri looked at Zavon. “Well, hand her one.”

  Zavon for once didn’t wear that cocky grin. He wiped his mouth, handed her his back up weapon, a blazer pistol, while he hefted his destroyer rifle.

  Beck trotted past, stopped, and pointed at the corner opposite the cargo hatch and ramp in the hold, in front of the spice lab. “Mica take the corner point closest to the hatch.” He motioned left and right at corners at the edge of the hanger. “You take the right,” He pointed at Zavon, “and you,” motioning at Khouri, “the left.”

  “What about you?” Zavon asked after they had taken up the positions Beck had assigned them.

  Beck headed to the back of the cargo hold, by the entrance to the airlock.

  “Airlock?” Khouri gestured at him. “They are coming through the hatch.”

  He grinned. “That’s the fun. I’ll be flanking them.”

  Her stomach twisted. That was risky. “You could get gunned down.”

  “Not if I can help it.” He turned and waved at Mica. “Okay, open the hatch and lower the ramp.” He unsealed the airlock door and disappeared inside, the door sealing behind him.

  The cargo hatch opened and the ramp began lowering. They heard shouts from outside. Khouri knelt in her assigned position, blazer pistol pointed down the ramp.

  Zavon did the same across from her, and Mica crouched in front of the lab.

  Someone shouted outside, “No grenades, idiot!” There was a storm of swearing, and voices raised in anger. Despite the fear boiling inside her, Khouri laughed.

  “Come out and we won’t hurt you,” a deep voice shouted.

  “Don’t come in and we won’t hurt you,” Mica shouted back.

  Khouri saw a pair of large men in red leather, one wearing a folded hat, and the other a broad-brimmed one, come charging up the ramp. They wore big cross-belts.

  She fired at the one on the left, Zavon the one on the right. The men grunted in pain, but kept coming. She fired again. Her target tumbled off the ramp, but Zavon didn’t fire a second time. She jerked her head around at him. He had scooted back along the wall on his backside. The pirate charged toward him, firing a destroyer which hit the wall just above Zavon’s head.

  Then blazer fire lanced from the right. Mica fired and hit the man in the side, and he fell.

  More pirates came up the ramp, this time pushing a crude barrier made of logs lashed together, like an ancient palisade. Khouri fired. The wood smoldered but didn’t burst into flame. It must be wet.

  A half dozen pirates hunkered down behind the logs. She fired, but couldn’t get a good shot.

  “Some help here!” Khouri yelled at Zavon.

  He was messing with his destroyer rifle, fumbling the power pack. “Must be
a defective one,” he yelled, yanked it out, and slammed a new one in.

  The pirates were almost at the hatch.

  Blazer fire sounded outside, behind the pirates. Men yelled. The palisade faltered, and then toppled over. Khouri opened fire, as did Zavon. Mica dashed forward until she had a line of sight, and then opened up with her blazer.

  The palisade hit the ramp with a dull boom. Three pirates were down. Two more had tumbled off the ramp. The remaining three were in a classic three-pointed star defense. The one facing Khouri fired his destroyer and she felt her left shoulder burn. She fired back but missed as agony lanced through her. Mica and Zavon also returned fire, Zavon’s shot hitting the pirate full in the chest. The man crumpled to the deck.

  Beck crouched in tall grasses twenty meters away from the ship. As Khouri watched he picked off the last two pirates.

  They’d successfully defended the ship. Khouri sagged against a bulkhead.

  Mica blurred in Khouri’s vision as the engineer stood on the ramp. Khouri blinked. Seeing straight was becoming difficult.

  “They all look dead,” Mica called out to Beck.

  He trotted up the ramp.

  “You need to inspect the ramp and hatch?” Khouri dimly heard Beck ask Mica.

  “I’d better,” Mica said, “before we raise it. Because I’m feeling nice, I’ll ask the doctor to treat his wounded friend.”

  Worry suddenly filled Zavon’s face. If Khouri didn’t hurt so much, she’d enjoy his sudden concern. But she did hurt, the shoulder burned hot, like someone had run her through with a knife. She didn’t remember ever being shot before. Her thoughts were a jumble. She probably didn’t remember because she hadn’t been shot before? She couldn’t remember.

  She leaned against the cool wall, closed her eyes. She heard someone kneel beside her.

  “I’m sorry you were hit,” she heard Zavon say, and she felt his hand brush her hair.

  “Nice to see you actually care, jerk,” Mica said softly.

  Khouri heard Zavon’s sigh. Mister Scoundrel was breaking character in all sorts of ways today.

  She panted. Her shoulder hurt so bad.

  “I’m sorry you were hurt,” Mica told her.

  “You really didn’t steal the cargo?” Khouri asked. The pain was making it hard to think. The medical equipment and supplies; no, it was the spice lab she’d never heard of before today, that was the cargo, wasn’t it?

  “No, we didn’t,” Mica said, her voice suddenly soft. “At least, not knowingly. Alisa snapped the job up on Baku Moon.”

  Baku Moon. “A den of iniquity if there ever was one,” Khouri said, quoting her father. He had warned her from ever going there.

  “You could say that.” Mica paused. Khouri blinked trying to see clearly. The woman ran a hand through her short hair. “You deadsticked the Nomad here? Really?”

  Khouri laughed weakly. “Not the easiest landing I ever made.”

  You are some kind of pilot,” Mica replied.

  “Some people think so.”

  “What’s taking that scoundrel so long?” Mica muttered.

  “Zavon’s always wandering off and getting into trouble,” Khouri murmured. She’d met him years ago during the Sunrunner races, her first adult ones, near the Hierarchy Moons. He’d been running bets secretly, since betting was prohibited, but there was a rampant market in gambling on the Sunrunner races nonetheless. He’d asked her all kinds of questions at the meet-and-greet for the racers with fans and sponsors after she won her race. She was immediately suspicious—yeah, men were always telling her she was gorgeous but she never believed them, nor their motives. Her parents were rich, so naturally men swooped down to become her new admirers and lovers. There’d been one that nearly stole her heart before Zavon.

  “He break your heart?” asked Mica. Khouri had the impression that Mica was the kind of person who normally didn’t get all sympathetic and gentle, but maybe getting shot was the way to earn her good graces.

  “More than once,” Khouri said. “Is it true that Zavon found you in the spice lab?”

  Mica looked embarrassed, at least, Khouri thought so, as much as she could think at the moment.

  “Yeah. Beck brought me and Yumi down there.” Something about the tone of Mica’s voice made Khouri think that perhaps she and Yumi were a couple, but she wasn’t sure. “Alejandro barged in and got caught in whatever knock-out gas Beck accidentally created.”

  Footsteps sounded on the metal stairs heading down into the cargo hold. Yumi came down the stairs. She got blurry for a moment. Khouri blinked. There was no sign of Zavon. Yumi’s dress was so pretty.

  “Yumi, she’s injured,” Mica said. “The wound looks pretty bad.

  Yumi knelt beside Khouri. Her fingers brushed lightly around the shoulder wound. She reached into a bag belted at her waist, and pulled out what looked like a ceramic vial. She unstopped it and spread some sort of paste into the wound. The pain began to fade away.

  “Where’s Zavon?” Khouri whispered.

  Yumi’s eyebrows went up and she glanced a question at Mica.

  “He’s not all bad,” Khouri muttered.

  “Taking a nap,” Yumi replied.

  Khouri closed her eyes. Now wasn’t a good time for a nap. “Funny man,” she said. She took a breath. The world smelled warm, like a favorite old blanket. Weariness came over her and she slipped into darkness.

  11

  The water sloshed against the side of the half-sunken Crimson Hercules. Alisa balanced on the hull of the tug and considered their options. The shore looked a kilometer distant, and the waters beyond where the ship lay grounded looked deep; too deep to see the bottom of the lake. Leonidas joined her while the rest of their little band huddled nearby. Screechy and the goon were awake, hands tied, staring bleary-eyed at the water sloshing against the hull. Abelardus leaned against Young-Hee. His chest wound had closed, but a huge black-and-blue bruise covered one side of his head. He’d hit his head in the crash. Young-Hee was bruised as well. Temur squatted behind Screechy and the goon, face expressionless, surveying their surroundings.

  “Is it true any landing you can walk away from is a good one?” Leonidas asked her.

  “It’s true.” Alisa laughed. “In this case, any good landing is one you can swim away from.”

  He knelt and dipped his fingers in the water. “At least the water is warm.”

  Alisa grinned. “Well, this is a jungle planet, my hulking brute.”

  “I never should have let you call me that.”

  She patted his shoulder. “I won’t abuse it. Much.”

  Temur joined them. He stopped, looked out at the lake once more.

  “Warm water?” he asked.

  “I estimate nineteen degrees centigrade,” Leonidas replied. He scanned the shoreline. “No sign of movement, but the sooner we can cross the lake and get ashore the better.” The sun was hidden by the clouds, but Alisa guessed they had less than two hours of daylight left.

  She stretched. “I guess it’s time to swim.”

  Leonidas exchanged a glance with Temur.

  She frowned. “What?”

  “If you want to swim, we won’t stop you,” Leonidas said, trying and failing to hide a grin.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Listen, guys, if you have something you’d like to share with your captain, now is a good time.”

  Temur reached into his backpack and set a folded square of some sort of synthetic on a flat spot on the hull. He touched a button on the square and it unfolded into a raft large enough to hold the entire party.

  “He’s wearing a survival pack,” Leonidas pointed out.

  “How did I not notice that, before? I can’t be that blind.”

  Leonidas’s faint smile became a grin. “You were rather busy when we boarded.”

  “Well, I won’t complain.”

  Temur pulled two telescoping metal rods out of his survival pack, and unsnapped a fan-like end on each, unfolding them into paddles.

&nbs
p; “How often do you need to paddle across water?” she asked him.

  His expression didn’t waver from matter-of-fact. “The Imperial Scouts are always prepared,” he said.

  She smacked Leonidas gently in the arm. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “I was in the Imperial forces, too.”

  She laughed. True, he had been. “These kinds of surprises I can enjoy,” she said. But then there was why they had crash-landed here. She rubbed her neck. “I’ll enjoy them better once I get my ship back and my crew is okay.” Worry bubbled inside her. It was time to move.

  Temur had a scanner connected to a power source in his survival pack that let him track the transponder in the spice lab aboard the Nomad, assuming it was still aboard.

  “Are you tracking the cargo?” she asked him.

  Temur nodded fractionally. “So far, it hasn’t moved. It continues to transmit.”

  That was a good sign.

  “All right, let’s get this raft in the water and moving.”

  “I’ll go first,” Temur said. He slipped into the raft while Leonidas held one corner. Alisa went in next, the raft bobbed as she stood in it, and then abruptly sat down, sending the raft bobbing furiously.

  Temur paddled to keep the raft close to the hull while Leonidas put Screechy and the mafia goon in the raft beside Alisa.

  “You could untie us,” Screechy said.

  “Not a chance,” replied Alisa.

  Leonidas then helped Abelardus and Young-Hee into the raft. Finally, it was Leonidas’s turn. He now knelt on the hull beside the raft.

  “You’ll need to be careful, Colonel, given your size and mass,”

  “Please, Leonidas,” Leonidas said. “And it’s muscle.”

  “Yes,” Alisa agreed, “but it’s a lot of muscle.” She grinned. “Not that I mind at all.”

  Leonidas sat down and scooted forward until his feet were in the raft, then carefully pulled himself aboard.

  The raft tilted dangerously in his direction. Alisa scooted herself until she was near Temur, and the raft more or less balanced in the water now.

  Leonidas and Temur each took a paddle and dipped oars into the water, began paddling. Alisa looked back at the half-submerged wreck of the Hercules. It had gotten them here, and in the end, that was what counted. Still, it was a shame to see such a good ship wrecked.