by Tom Shepherd
“I am First Wife to His Royal Highness Tertiary Sub-Prince Zenna,” she said without braggadocio.
“So, Amir Zenna, What brings you to my market?”
“My feet,” he said.
“Uh.. yes. I mean, how may I be of service?”
“You have many things to eat. I like to eat.” He looked around. “You do not serve Groxbitz, correct?”
“Oh, we serve anyone, Amir.”
Mr. Blue bent to inspect the baskets. No meats, but he couldn’t distinguish vegetables from fruit. Behind the produce were more carts with tan, white, and rust red pyramids of powder. Spices, milled grain, desiccated fish or animal proteins? Other bins held mixed nuts, or shelled legumes, or baked insects.
Lovely. He wanted to sample everything, to purge the lingering taste of Groxbitz from his throat. But greeting before eating was the Quirt-Thymean way.
“Since you know my abbreviated name, perhaps you can enlighten me with yours.”
“Of course! Your pardon, dear Prince. I am Ziyad Halabi. These are my wives.” He gestured to several young women posted along the length of the market.
“You have four wives?”
“Fourteen,” he said briskly.
“Fourteen nests to fill regularly. A very ambitious project,” Zenna said. That many wives was a sure sign of Mormon-Muslim Reconstructionism.
Ziyad smiled broadly. “Like the Prophets Abraham, Moses, Jesus, Muhammed, and Joseph Smith—peace be upon them—Heavenly Father has blessed me richly, poor man that I am.”
“May we greet the others?”
“Most work elsewhere today. We are a family economic unit.”
Zenna bowed slightly to Halabi’s four wives working the produce market. The dark-eyed women—none older than twenty—covered their giggles with hands.
Mr. Blue said, “How many husbands do they have?”
Halabi’s smile faded, the mustache drooped. “I am their husband.”
“Yes, friend Ziyad, but how many other husbands does each woman get? They are quite lovely. I imagine they excel at coitus. Surely, fourteen women can find other men—”
“They do not want other men!” Halabi clenched his fists and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His lips moved and the tension drained away, as if the floorboards absorbed his flash-flood of anger. “Samahni ya 'amir.” Forgive me, Prince. “I forget that your people allow many husbands and many wives.”
“Not many. Three,” Zenna explained. “Each male chooses three wives, and they may do likewise. Now, if they are gay, we allow a troupe of twelve to form. Males or females. It is slightly more complex with bisexuals, and trans-gender relationships are—”
“Please, Prince Zenna!” Ziyad raised his hands in surrender. “Let us respect our differences and speak of things more… agreeable? Such as my delightful spices and produce.”
“What is more agreeable than sexual intercourse?”
Halabi’s face brightened. “You are right! Nothing transcends the joy of sakhif jayid. But that is not for sale here, my friend. Tasty fruit—not of woman, but sweet no less—and spices to prepare a meal fit for Paradise.”
“I will buy a nice quantity of whatever you recommend.” Mr. Blue waited for the mustache to curl upward before continuing. “And you may add twenty thousand Galactic Credits to my bill, if you answer a few simple questions.”
A Groxbitz rolled up and beep-booped, whistled. Halabi said, “Yes, yes, Garekdakt. You may take your break now, but do not feast on my jab-jab leaves, or I shall dock your pay.”
The multi-legged sphere whistled forlornly and summersaulted away on stumpy appendages.
“So hard to find good helpers. I am interviewing all day. Some quit, some I fire for stealing food. Others disappear, perhaps captured and eaten. I pray this does not happen to my helpers. Insha Allah. So one cannot always blame the Groxbitz.”
“Do you eat them?”
“Never! It is not halal.”
“Not kosher?” Mr. Blue picked up a red root and took a bite.
“We do not use that word. There are similarities.” Ziyad shook his head. “No true Mormon-Muslim would eat a sentient being.”
“You believe the Groxbitz are an intelligent lifeform?”
“Not intelligent. Stupid as that yagozik stem you nibble. But they have feelings. And they can do simple mathematics, and keep records in Terran Standard, and stock my carts, and dispose of wastes properly. They are not starship engineers, but surely not game animals, either. It is a grave offense to Allah when they are slaughtered for food.”
“What have you done to stop the practice?” Yumiko said.
He shrugged. “Lady Yumiko, this is the pirate capital. People do what they want here.”
“An honorable man would not stay in such a place,” she said.
“Alas, I am not an honorable man, Lady. May Allah forgive me. I have a price on my head in eleven star nations, including the Terran Commonwealth. And my fourteen wives need sustenance, which I can plant, grow, and sell here.” He smiled at Zenna. “Twenty thousand credits? Allah’u’akbar. That will help my plight considerably.”
“First more information, please.” Zenna took out his datacom. “Can you speak Groxbitz?”
“Speak? No, but we understand each other. They understand Terran. I understand their whistles and boops. I have been here twelve years, Amir. You pick things up, yes?”
“Will you interpret for me?”
“You want to question my helpers?”
“Insha Allah,” Mr. Blue said.
The Mormon-Muslim market master smiled.
* * * *
Suzie and Chief Léon boarded Flávio’s ship the Henrique with little incident. Not surprising, since they carried a holographic message from the Capitão which threatened dismemberment to any crew member who impeded their investigation. After familiarizing himself with the Main Library Computer control panel and digital outfacings, Paco began running a series of diagnostics to analyze the enhanced firewall which blocked access to a massive part of MLC operations.
Meanwhile Suzie swiped a finger down the double helix tattoo on her forearm and converted her biological form to energetic state, then dove deep into the network at lightspeed. She was glad for the opportunity to go internal, since her bio-energetic clock was about to expire and freeze her in human form. Without an extended dip into a computer net every fifty-one hours, she would lose the ability to move between human and cybernetic states.
Chief Léon comm-linked with the network. “This is Paco. Can you read me, ma’am? I have a preliminary report for you.”
“Let’s hear it, Chief. So far, I’m digging a dry hole in here.”
“I know why,” he said grimly.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad. That firewall ain’t no firewall. It’s a zombie zone. Somebody zapped the Henrique’s MLC, cauterized the core. Sixty-two percent of the MLC function is kaput. I’m talking cooked goose dead.”
“No wonder I couldn’t tap into any major system,” Suzie said. “What’s still functioning?”
“All she has is flight controls, basic navigation and propulsion, life support, and medium-range commo. But the programs supporting autopilot navigation, Jump Gate bookmarks, long range sensors, weapons and targeting, defensive shields, tractors, internal security, fire suppression, engine maintenance, holographic supports, and backup systems—all that shit is flushed. Excuse the language, ma’am.”
“Somebody doesn’t want Flávio to leave Port Royal.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Chief Léon said. “An’ now I’m worried you might be trapped in there. Don’t see a holographic exit route.”
“I don’t require one.” She appeared beside him at the diagnostic panel, tall and shapely in her dark green M-double-I jumpsuit, a Norse goddess in bio-energetic flesh and blood.
“Thank you!” Paco took a deep breath. “The Boss would skin me if I lost your program, too.”
“Let’s get back to the ship. You need to
report; I need to recharge.”
Eighteen
Holographic lawyer André Mercier and Public Defender Félix Koshka received permission to come aboard the sleek Sakura House light cruiser from the Tsuchiya Corporation duty officer, who led them to a lift that rose nine decks to a corridor leading to the Captain’s Office. The duty officer paused by a sliding door and asked them to remove their shoes, which took Félix a moment of awkward balancing while André simply caused his footwear to vanish.
Kaito Tsuchiya and a stunning blonde in a spring green, skin-tight, two-piece Parvian uniform sat cross-legged on a tatami mat, reviewing star charts on a large viewscreen. Tsuchiya exited the program and the screen defaulted to a spectacular image of the ancient Imperial palace at Kyoto on Terra, surrounded by flowering cherry trees—Sakura no hana.
“Counselors, I am delighted to see you,” Kaito said with a thin smile. He gestured for them to sit. “Would you enjoy tea with us?”
Félix declined due to his queasy, over-caffeinated stomach.
“Is there anything I can do for the Public Defenders’ Office?” Kaito said pleasantly.
“Forgive me, Monsieur Tsuchiya,” André said, “but I must ask about your radiant companion.”
“Of course, how thoughtless of me. This is Parvian Staff Lieutenant Jool-Gheri Zarx. Did I pronounce it correctly this time, Lieutenant?”
She blushed. “Very, very nice. I am legs open to these gentlemen, since they fucked me but I have not fucked them.”
Mercier and Koshka exchanged bewildered looks.
Kaito cleared his throat. “Perhaps later today, Lieutenant, we could work on your Terran vocabulary and idioms.”
“I am yours to ride.” She giggled.
“Lieutenant Jewel-Gary,” André said, “you are the first Parvian I have had the pleasure to encounter. Are they all as charming as you? Perhaps we can find time to speak privately.”
Her expression darkened. “Is that a threat, Counselor?”
“No, no, no! I am not a native Terran speaker. Please forgive any offense you heard. It was not intended.”
“Good.” She smiled slightly.
Félix said, “My colleague means, we would like the opportunity to… uh… fuck you in a different context. Meaning, in formal Terran, get to know your people better.”
“Oh! Why didn’t you say that? Kaito, we’re done here, yes?”
“Perhaps our friends from the Public Defenders’ Office can stay for a meal with my officers. That will provide ample opportunity to speak with them at length.”
“I am not eating today. It is a Medical Holy Day,” she said. “Besides, I am bored with this ship. You have no games.”
“Perhaps you would like to examine our library of—”
“No, not computer simulations, or your silly first person shooter games. I want to play with real people.”
“Did you enjoy the Mahjong tournament we arranged for you? There are other—”
“I am tired of sitting here, shipbound. I came to observe. Do you not trust these attorneys?”
“They are officers of the court. Certainly they are trustworthy. I am however concerned about your safety in this town of rōnin should you leave my vessel unaccompanied.”
Lieutenant Zarx thought for a moment. “I am a citizen of the Republic. That is all the protection I require. Perhaps I shall eat other friends along the way.”
“Uh… Pardonne-moi, my lovely Lieutenant,” André said, “but I believe the verb you wanted is meet.”
“Yes, yes. Let’s meet people! Lots of people. Where shall we meet them, Public Defenders?”
“Someplace wonderful, ma chère,” André said.
Kaito waved a hand, dismissively. “No, gentlemen. I cannot allow it. The lieutenant’s safety rests upon my shoulders.”
“He only says that because my father sits on the Cabinet of the Republic and he will be very angry if I am harmed.” She turned to Kaito. “Father is overprotective. I want to be treated as an ordinary Parvian citizen. No special accommodations. No special security.”
Koshka said, “Uh, perhaps you had better remain here. Kaito-sama is very wise.
“Nonsense. Let’s go meet people.” She rose from the mat, and the visitors stood with her. Lieutenant Zarx was a head shorter than André, and the hologram was smaller than most Terrans. But the tight uniform did little to hide her hourglass figure and prominent bust. The sight of her beside him, warm and blonde and lovely, cured Félix of the last vestiges from his hangover.
Temptress though she may be, Jool-Gheri was a Parvian, and they were about to witness a demonstration of what that meant.
“No,” Kaito said. “The risk is too great. You will remain aboard this ship under my supervision.”
Jool-Gheri’s countenance transformed from sunshine to storm clouds.
“Kaito-san, I need no keeper. I am leaving the ship. Send warriors after me, and I will kill them. It will pain me, because you have offered hospitality. But honor demands freedom. Do not test the Republic.”
She went to her quarters aboard the Sakura House vessel and returned five minutes later with a large bag slung over a shoulder. Kaito Tsuchiya watched Mercier, Koshka, and their lovely, dangerous companion board a skimmer for the short ride to the parking slot of the Howling Tadpole.
* * * *
Dr. Julieta Solorio, fully naked, sprawled across the bed and patted the place beside her. The rented room at Port Royal’s two-story Good Business Hotel featured a pressurized O2 environment and sanitized mattress on a creaking, double bed.
Augusto Cellar, fully clothed, flopped down hard at the indicated landing zone. He rolled on his back, raised his legs like a dying cockroach, and began pulling off his pants. Julieta propped herself on an elbow and watched him. She spoke in smooth, perfect Portuguese.
“You are a big, famous Privateer, Capitão Cellar, no?”
He shook off the boots but couldn’t get the trouser cuffs over the thick socks he wore under his footgear. Julieta sighed and hopped out of bed, breasts bobbing, to yank off his pants. Cellar wore no underwear, but he kept on the heavy shirt.
“Some say I was a great leader,” he admitted. “But I retired two years ago. Maybe I’ll get me another ship and resume the trade. Never know.”
Now he patted the bed. Julieta crossed her arms, momentarily obscuring his view of her breasts, although he had a direct line-of-sight fixed on her triangle of black pubic hair.
She was considering whether to fuck him, then torture the information out of him. It had been weeks since she had sex, and she wasn’t inclined to a life of serial celibacy.
Then she noticed Augusto Cellar’s meager equipment and decided a dildo and a bottle of good wine sounded like a better evening.
“Tell me about your many evil deeds, Capitão” she said mischievously. ”Then maybe we fuck.”
He laughed. “So, you’re one of those kinky-winky whores. Do ya like it rough? We can play pirate fantasy, no? Let’s pretend I am capturing your ship, and you are a virgin princess, and you resist me, and I rape you.”
“Have you raped women on captured ships?”
“Plenty of times!” He laughed. “I had me a couple virgin teenagers. They scream and fight, but they love it. When I get it inside them, they wiggle and squirm and give me a good ride.”
Julieta closed her eyes and resisted the roiling urge to murder this pendejo where he lay.
“I think there is a better game we can play,” she said.
He sat up, smiling brightly. “Really, now?”
Julieta reached under the bed and pulled out two kinetic blasters. She stood there naked, nipples and weapons pointing at him.
“Take a breath. This is going to hurt.” She blasted him on full stun, both weapons. Pulling her medical kit from under the bed frame, the doctor gave him a light dose of stimulant.
By the time he came around she had dressed herself and replaced his pants. That teeny weenie was too much of a distraction, and she decide
d to cover it before disgust drove her to amputation. Julieta neural-cuffed him spread eagle to the bedposts. She took out her datacom and began recording as Tyler had instructed.
“Deposition of Augusto Cellar, former First Officer on the Henrique under Capitão Flávio Tavares. Mr. Cellar, are you competent to answer questions in Terran Standard?”
“I ain’t answering nothing.”
She halted the recording and poked a blaster in his groin. “Do you wish to reconsider that refusal?”
“You won’t shoot me.”
“I am a JPT dispatcher, Auggie. I’ll shoot you, com muito prazer.”
Cellar’s eyes widened. “What is your name?
“They call me Naca Jen.”
He shivered. “You killed Tsuchiya’s top executives.”
“You know my work?”
“So, you’re working for Sakura House? We’re on the same side!”
“I eliminated Tsuchiya’s criminals, but I don’t work for that cocksucker anymore.” She cursed herself for giving personal information. Hideki Tsuchiya’s betrayal disgusted her more than she realized.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “I recognize you now. You ain’t no dispatcher. You’re that lady doctor. Something Solorio.”
“The only name you need is Naca Jen. You are my target tonight. Unless you answer truthfully.”
“How do you know if I’m telling the truth, and how do I know you won’t kill me anyways?”
“Good questions. You don’t, and neither do I. But there’s no other choice for either of us.” She withdrew the weapon from his balls. “I need information. If you are lying, this will not end well for you. I will hunt you down, no matter how long it takes.”
“The Matthews-Solorio Family is rich. How much will you pay me to testify?”
She glared at him. “Do not go there.”
He shrugged. “Ask your questions.”
“Tell me about the Star of Parvia.”
“What about it?”
“Why did you attack a pleasure liner full of wealthy Parvians? Surely you knew their well-deserved reputation for scourging their enemies.”
“Yeah, but I got clearance.”