Deep Space Dragnet (Rich Weed Book 2)

by Berg,Alex P.

  Rich?

  I paused in mid step. Yes, Paige?

  Sorry to bother you, but we finally got back some information I think might interest you.

  The query on Tarja?

  If Paige were capable of giving me the finger guns, I’m sure she would’ve. Bingo.

  Well then? I said. Don’t make me pry it out of you.

  I ran an exhaustive search on her through the Cetie servenets, and I bounced it to simultaneously run on the Cetif servenets as well. Full record check. I even paid for a couple of premium services that provide access to government files your private investigator’s license alone doesn’t. And…

  I’ll provide the drumroll. I tapped my fingers on the desk.

  Nothing. Her record looks totally clean. Nothing that would conflict with the story she’s told us.

  Nothing? I said. Please tell me there’s a ‘but.’

  Oh there’s a ‘but,’ said Paige with a mental wink. If we were running a simple background check, it wouldn’t have taken as long as it has to get the information back. What took most of the time was running the lip-reading, statistical analysis, and cross-referencing programs I instructed the Cetie servenets to. Turns out the second pirate Tarja shot on TCA 133649 was, with a forty three percent likelihood, mouthing the word ‘Banshee.’ That alone didn’t get us anywhere, but when we cross-referenced the term with the names of the pirates she mentioned in passing to you before—Tellerman Bundy, the Tryzekis, Paul ‘The Cross’ Richardson, and Korvik Durulaque—we got some hits. A bunch of them. Turns out ‘Banshee’ is the name of a well-known smuggler who at one point—and this is hearsay—was robbed by the pirates Richardson, Durulaque, and if I’m not mistaken, the two guys you found on TCA 133649.

  Get out of town, I said. Tarja’s a smuggler?

  Smuggler turned bounty hunter, said Paige. There’s no question of her current occupation. She’s brought in some highly wanted individuals.

  I recalled Tarja’s reluctance to discuss Richardson and Durulaque, and her obvious vendetta against the pirates on that floating hunk of space rock. So what did those guys steal from her?

  No idea, said Paige. But according to a multitude of public and private police reports, the Banshee was responsible for smuggling just about anything under the sun that could turn a profit. Guns, drugs, genetic tech, state secrets. Even animals.

  Animals? I said.

  That’s right. One report had her smuggling crates of endangered Peliosian boilerfish and selling them to collectors. Or restaurants, depending on which source you believe.

  What the heck is a Peliosian boilerfish? I asked.

  A fish, of course. Medium sized, with brilliant orange and yellow diagonal stripes. Thrives in warm, high-salinity water. Supposedly tastes delicious but doesn’t do well under conditions of aquaculture, which is why they’re endangered. I think there’s one in the Cetie spaceport aquarium, actually. Give me a sec.

  It took less than that. My vision faded and was replaced with the feed from my own trip through the spaceport. I stood on one of the moving carpets, staring up into the tanks.

  See it? said Paige. To the left of the school of cuttlefish, behind the shark dotted by lampreys.

  I spotted it, but I didn’t care. Something had clicked in my mind.

  I blinked. “I need to talk to Tarja.”

  23

  I found her in the cockpit, eyes glued to the displays as a half-dozen charts and graphs and readouts adjusted in real time to the data brought back by the ship’s sensors. Apparently, she’d meant what she’d said about the warp signatures and hadn’t been jostling us about the ship, messing with our gastrointestinal systems for kicks.

  “Tarja,” I said. “How’s it hanging?”

  She gave me a sideways glance. “Fine, I suppose. You make any progress with those access logs and engine records?”

  “To an extent,” I said, “but that’s not what I came to talk to you about.”

  Tarja rolled her eyes. “Not this again. Look, I’ll admit you’re not as vile and infuriating as I first made you out to be, but I’m here for the money. I don’t have any desire to be friends, okay? If you’re here to make small talk or pry into my childhood or share your passion for God knows what, then you can head right back down that hatch.”

  “I don’t need to ask about your past,” I said, “but that’s why I’m here. I was hoping you could answer a smuggling question.”

  Her look turned icy. “Pardon?”

  “Paige and I ran a few search queries,” I said. “You made it hard on us, but eventually we were able to uncover the truth, Tarja. Or should I say—Banshee.”

  She stood and took a step toward me, her shoulders tense. “No freaking way.”

  “Whoa,” I said, reading her body language. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I don’t care if you used to smuggle. Honestly, you could’ve been a pirate yourself in a past life and it wouldn’t bother me, not so long as it stays in the past. That’s your own business. I’m only bringing it up because I have a new theory about the pirate attacks and I thought someone with your expertise might be able to offer an informed opinion.”

  A puff of air escaped from Tarja’s lips, and her shoulders relaxed. “That…wasn’t what I expected to hear. It’s actually a reasoned and compassionate response. Although I still don’t know how in the world you connected me to my past life.”

  “I’m a private investigator,” I said. “This is what I do. Or had you forgotten?”

  “I hadn’t forgotten,” said Tarja as she sat back down. “I just hadn’t thought you were particularly good at your job. I’m woman enough to admit I was wrong, though. So what’s your new theory?”

  “What if…the pirates were lampreys?”

  “Come again?” said Tarja.

  “Not literally, of course,” I said. “But follow along with me. The tallest hurdle I’ve been trying to overcome is figuring out how the pirates got onboard the Agapetes and the other freighters in the first place. The idea that they matched their trajectories and somehow melded their warp bubble with their targets is pure science fiction as far as I’m concerned. But now that I’ve given it some thought, my idea that all six attacks were completed with the knowledge and assistance of the crews is almost as unbelievable. So what does that leave? Lampreys.

  “What if the pirates managed to close in on the freighters undetected and latched onto them like lampreys? They’d have to do it before the freighters activated their Alcubierre drives, either at rest or under conditions of conventional thrust, but when the freighters enter warp, the bubble would form around the entire conjoined vessel, wouldn’t it? From that point, the pirates would be free to attack the freighters at any point during the warp burn. Not that it would be easy, mind you. Maneuvering within the warp bubble would be difficult, but I think it could be done. What do you think?”

  Tarja ran her tongue across her teeth and narrowed her eyes. “I mean…I think it’s possible. I’ve heard of the technique before. Not from smugglers, to be honest, but from fighter pilots who’d hide on enemy dreadnaughts during battles that had turned sour. They’d wait for the action to die down and the enemy fighters to dock before blasting off at top speed. I’ve never heard of anyone attempting that sort of thing during warp, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t work.

  “The key would be the approach, though. The pirates would have to come in slowly, ideally at a constant speed until almost the last minute to avoid detection. But in an asteroid belt? They could hide on a small rock and make the hop quickly, perhaps without anyone being the wiser. Avoiding the external cameras would be difficult, but on a large freighter, if they knew the right spot and with a small enough ship, it might be possible.”

  Tarja nodded as she talked herself into it. “Yeah. I could see it. It’s a plausible theory, but it doesn’t explain all your problems.”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “Well, the cargo for one,” said Tarja. �
�A ship—or two, or three—small enough to pull off the kind of stunt you’ve described wouldn’t be near large enough to store all the cargo from a freighter like the Agapetes.”

  “It wouldn’t have to,” I said. “That’s the beauty of it. The pirates could pack as much loot into their ships as they could and pitch the rest, just as I theorized. Ducic already looked at the energy logs from the Agapetes, and he said the Alcubierre drive’s power draw fluctuated wildly during the pirate attack. According to him, that could be due to the tossing of matter through the back of the warp bubble. You have to admit, if it’s what the pirates did, it’s a great way to throw pursuers off their scent. It threw me for a loop.”

  “Well, perhaps you should have Ducic look at those energy draw logs one more time,” said Tarja, “because if the Agapetes was hauling one or more pirate ships around on its back, the overall energy usage for its warp drive should be higher than normal. Maybe not a ton higher, because that’s mostly size, not mass, dependant, and if the pirates are smart they’re manning ships that have a low profile, but still. It should be noticeable.”

  “And that’s exactly what Ducic noted,” I said. “A slightly higher than expected energy draw for the ship during its warp burn. Of course, he also noted the higher energy usage could’ve been due to an inefficiency or a fault in his calculations, but this would provide a genuine physical reason for it.”

  Tarja cupped her chin and went silent. She stared out the cockpit’s display, her eyes focused on something far away or perhaps nothing at all. Eventually she turned back to me. “Alright. You’ve convinced me. But I don’t see what good it does us. Let’s say the pirates are here in the asteroid belt, or somewhere in Sol’s equivalent. That still doesn’t provide us any way to track them, not without them entering or exiting warp themselves. Resonant cavity thrusters don’t leave traceable energy signatures like warp travel does.”

  I smiled. “True. I don’t think we’ll be able to track them down. But we might not have to.”

  Tarja lifted an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “I had Paige check the documents Ducic obtained from InterSTELLA,” I said. “As it turns out, the ship that was most recently attacked, the Bulrush, was in transit from Sol to Tau Ceti. If we’re right, that means they’re probably here, hiding in the asteroid belt. They may be looking for their next target, and what better target than the Agapetes?”

  “You really think they’d risk hitting the same target twice?” said Tarja.

  “Why not? Vijay said they’ve targeted ships carrying loads of heavy metals and ships that aren’t well guarded. Well, the Agapetes is filling back up with exactly what the pirates are after. Tungsten.”

  “And it’s been heavily reinforced,” said Tarja. “I don’t think they’ve increased the crew since the last attack, but you couldn’t have missed that every member is packing heat. Those pistols weren’t set to stun, either.”

  “But how would the pirates know that?”

  The edge of Tarja’s lip curled down in a frown. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m still convinced there’s an inside man directing the pirates toward their targets,” I said. “How else would they know which freighters carried the loads they desired and which ships weren’t properly defended? But I no longer think the inside man—or woman—is onboard the ships in question. It has to be someone else. Someone with access to InterSTELLA’s internal bookkeeping. Probably a desk jockey whose job it is to make sure ships don’t crash into each other during their runs. This individual is probably looking for targets for the next attack. All we have to do it modify the logs to show the Agapetes suffered a loss of crew for some reason. That would make it look ripe for the picking.”

  “And how do you plan on doing that?” Tarja asked. “Do you plan on asking Captain Rhees really nicely to see if she’d modify the records to reflect that little lie? Or do you fancy yourself an all-galaxy hacker?”

  I shook my head. “No way. Rhees hates me. But I doubt we’d have to hack anything. All we’d need is the appropriate clearance.”

  “And you think your chances of sweet talking Ducic are better than your chances with Rhees?”

  “Well, yes,” I said. “But I don’t think Ducic is going to go for it either. He’s too by the book.”

  “So?”

  I smiled. “When Ducic sent the query to the Snowbell for all the internal InterSTELLA files relevant to the piracy, he had to submit his clearance along with his request. That query was routed though the Samus Aran’s internal computer, was it not?”

  Tarja snorted. “You’re devious. But I’d imagine he encrypted his clearance pass code when he sent the query.”

  “Did he?” I asked.

  Tarja’s eyes glazed as she checked. It didn’t take her long. “Ha. Nope. Unbelievable.”

  Bah, said Paige. There goes my chance to show off my leet hacking skills.

  “Well there you go,” I said. “Sounds like we have a plan.”

  “Maybe you do,” said Tarja. “I’m still not entirely sure what you plan on doing with this information.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I said. “We’re going to ingratiate ourselves to Captain Rhees and get back onboard the Agapetes to try and catch the pirates in the act. Well, maybe not ingratiate ourselves to Rhees, per se. But I think if I give Vijay a convincing enough argument, he might be able to go over her head to ensure our passage on the freighter’s upcoming trip to Sol.”

  “You’re serious?” said Tarja. “You want to go up against the pirates alone?”

  “Not alone,” I said. “I’ll have the whole crew of the Agapetes at my back. Not to mention you, and you’re worth like ten of them, right?”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “Come on,” I said. “You know you want to test your skills against these guys to see where you stack up. Besides, aren’t you curious? We could be on the verge of unraveling a mystery that’s eluded the collective minds of the galaxy’s largest corporation.”

  “You’re appealing to my sense of mystery?” Tarja laughed. “You don’t know me very well.”

  “That was a joke. But I did figure you’d take part for the same reason you signed on in the first place.” I rubbed the tips of my fingers against my thumb.

  Tarja chuckled. “Maybe you understand me after all. Fine. I’ll turn this ship around and head to Varuna. But it’s up to you to take care of everything else.”

  24

  Tarja stood just inside the airlock door of the Samus Aran, while Carl, Ducic, and I waited to gain entry to the Agapetes.

  “Remember,” said Tarja. “Be polite and gracious, and above all else, don’t act like a giant jackass.”

  I glanced at Carl. “Am I the only one who sees the irony in that statement?”

  Tarja snorted, and the airlock door closed centimeters from my face.

  “I rest my case.” I turned and faced the exterior door as the pumps whirred to life.

  “You aren’t the only one,” said Carl. “But I can see where she’s coming from.”

  “And where is that?” I said. “The corner of Insensitive Avenue and My Daddy Never Loved Me Lane?”

  Ducic tilted his head. His eyes narrowed, but thankfully he didn’t ask.

  “Tarja’s warming up to you,” said Carl. “She’s merely upset about having to leave her baby behind.”

  “You mean the Samus?”

  Carl nodded.

  Tarja was dropping us off at the Agapetes because of our lack of a spacesuit for Ducic, otherwise we all would’ve parked the ship and made the trip over together. It’s possible she also wanted one last moment alone with her love without being subject to our judgment.

  I sighed. “I just wish I wasn’t always the one on the receiving end of her ire. Ducic hasn’t been burned even once. Not that I wish it on you, big guy.”

  “Thank you,” said the Tak. “I also would rather not be immolated.”

  The pumps finish
ed their cycle, and the exterior door opened. Urrupain and his impeccably shorn hair stood in front of us, his hand resting lazily against the pulse pistol at his hip. He wore the same navy blue uniform I’d seen him in previously—or at least an identical one. Even the frown on his face was the same.

  “Am I the only one experiencing déjà vu?” I said.

  He nodded at my torso. “Not everything is the same, I see. Should I expect difficulties?”

  I glanced at the pulse pistol in my own shoulder holster. “What, this? Come on. I’m not wearing it because of you. I figured if you’re all armed, I should be, too. We already fought off a pair of pirates not even twenty standard galactic hours ago. I don’t want to make the mistake of being caught unawares.”

  He frowned, but he didn’t comment on it. We’d sent Captain Rhees a detailed missive with our plans. Perhaps she’d shared them with him.

  Urrupain nodded. “Head to the command center. I will follow this time.”

  We did as he asked, and not just because he was armed. I did want to make a good impression on Captain Rhees, and I hoped my obedience would help.

  I let Carl lead the way because I knew he wouldn’t accidentally take any wrong turns. Down the hallway we went, eventually packing back into the lift, spilling out, and heading up the ramp to the command room. There we found Captain Rhees, sitting in one of the chairs by the displays. Uche had disappeared.

  We gathered in the center of the room. Urrupain positioned himself behind us to our right. Rhees sat, impervious, gazing into the reports overlaid on the screens.

  Urrupain spoke not a word. Neither did Rhees. The silence began to stretch, and I became unsure of the protocol expected of me. I cleared my throat.

  Rhees didn’t turn. “I’m waiting.”

  I opened my mouth to ask what for, but I paused before I could insert either of my feet into my gaping maw. The fact was, I had a good inkling of what she was waiting for—the same thing anyone in her position would be.