Star Raider

by Vaughn Heppner

  “I will,” she said, “but not to you directly. I’ll pay the impound fees but you’ll have to transfer the deed to me as collateral.”

  “Wrong,” Tanner said. “Nothing will make me sign over the Dark Star, not even as temporary collateral. If you want my help, which I think you most certainly do, then you give me the credits outright. I’ll buy out my own ship. Besides, I’m beginning to think you set up this situation.”

  “What situation?” she asked.

  “Sure, Lady, I buy that.”

  She turned to the tribune. “Maybe a beating is in order after all.”

  The tribune hesitated before shaking his head. “I don’t agree, Lady. He’s just as Maximus said he would be. I doubt the centurion would have lasted this long out here if he was any other way.”

  She frowned.

  “His cooperation might be important to us,” the tribune added.

  The patrician drummed her fingers on the table. She looked up at Tanner.

  He waited.

  “Very well,” she said, primly. “I will assign you credits. But I expect prompt service. We will go together—”

  “No,” Tanner said, interrupting. “You give me the line of credit. Then, I’m going alone to free my crew. I want to talk to them before we begin.”

  The patrician’s eyes hardened, but finally she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “You will free your crew. But we must move quickly. Our time is limited.”

  “Why’s that?” Tanner asked.

  “You’ll learn soon enough,” she said.

  -8-

  An attractive clerk wearing moderate heels led Tanner down a narrow hall. She stopped before reaching the destination, indicating that he enter the office on his own. The hall was narrow, and Tanner had to brush past the woman to reach the entrance. She glanced up into his eyes as he did, smiling shyly before looking down. Then, she hurried away.

  Tanner watched her go. Why hadn’t she gone into the office to announce him to the adjustment officer?

  Suspicion caused him to check his jacket pockets. The one still held the electronic credit voucher from Patrician Ursa.

  The clerk turned the corner, taking her beauty from view. Tanner shrugged, knocking on the open door as he stepped in.

  The adjustment officer behind the desk looked up. He had narrow, foxlike features and wore a blue robe and headband with earphones and a microphone jack before his lips. There were three computer screens on the desk with a single keypad between them and a hot cup of jasmine steaming to his left.

  The officer pointed at a chair in front of the desk before resuming typing.

  Tanner approached the chair, hesitating as he examined it. Compared to the adjuster’s desk, the chair was ridiculously low. He thought about standing but decided that would be worse as it would make him seem like a beggar with hat in hand. He sat and found that his knees were propped up as high as his chin.

  Was such an obvious psychological ploy necessary for the interview?

  The adjuster continued typing while he spoke into the microphone.

  Tanner waited, trying to be patient. He finally glanced at the plaques on the wall. That’s when he noticed a large photo of the pretty clerk in a revealing two-piece posed provocatively in a botanical garden. She had long dark hair and a rather voluptuous shape.

  Hanging such a large photo like that in a workspace seemed odd. Could that be why the clerk hadn’t entered the room? Was she embarrassed of the photo?

  Out of the corner of his eye, Tanner studied the adjuster. The man had to be three times the woman’s age. Despite his vulpine features, the man had a receding chin and there seemed to be something unsavory about him as he bit the inside of his own cheek.

  Tanner eyed the photo again. Was that a professional shot or did she have an after-work liaison with the man?

  The adjuster abruptly stopped typing. He took a sip of jasmine, smacking his lips as he did. He noticed Tanner studying the large photo.

  “Cost me three hundred credits to get her to pose like that,” the adjuster said. “Mar Bree loathes the transaction now. At the time, she was about to be evicted from her apartment because of a lack of funds.” The man grinned. “I tell her how men like you lust over the photo while they pay their fees. You’d think she would be happy how I’ve learned to take the sting from men such as yourself over the payments. She’s beautiful, don’t you agree?”

  Tanner could barely see over the desk at the grinning adjuster. Clearly, the man enjoyed other people’s pain. Tanner would be glad to leave Calisto Grandee.

  The adjuster leaned back in his chair, taking another sip of jasmine before biting his inner cheek again. “I can’t tell you the number of times she’s asked me to take it down. I’m sure she hates the idea of men like you leering at her body.” His grin widened. “Perhaps I originally gave her the impression the photo would remain in my studio…” He laughed. “The woman wants to advance. I give her credit for trying to use what assets she possesses. I’m still waiting for her to make me an offer.”

  Tanner stared at the man.

  “I’m sure you think I’m talking about a sexual offer, and that would be acceptable. But I doubt Mar Bree would agree to such an exchange. She knows I could simply put up the picture later and ask for another, ah, payment.” The adjuster laughed. “No. The offer I’m talking about is her trying to buy back the photograph and however many copies I’ve made of it.”

  Tanner kept his features blank, although he started envisioning himself getting up, reaching across the desk and yanking the smirking face into his fist.

  “I sense your disapproval,” the adjuster said. “That marks you as old-fashioned and prudish. You don’t understand that I’m actually helping Mar Bree.”

  “Yeah?” Tanner said.

  “Of course,” the adjuster said. “I’ve educated her on the true ways of the world, that a woman of her charms must practice discretion in her monetary choices. I think she should pay for that education, don’t you agree?”

  Tanner finally realized what was going on. The adjuster was a small cog in a big wheel. The man tried to wrest the greatest amount of enjoyment he could from his job. Since the man was a pig, he delighted in inflicting the little amount of pain he could onto others. Did that mean the adjuster would try to cause him trouble? Yes, of course, it did.

  “Well, now,” the adjuster said, leaning forward, typing again. “You’re Tanner, the owner of the Dark Star, is that right?”

  Tanner grunted a “Yes.”

  The adjuster scanned a screen. “Oh, I see your ship has been impounded for quite some time, and two of your crew are in lockup. My, my, you’ve barely made it to my office in time. Your vessel had another fourteen hours to go before it went into auction. That’s cutting it close.”

  Tanner nodded.

  “Ah, look at this,” the adjuster said. “This is going to be pricy. One of your crew is still in the quarantine ward. She hasn’t recovered yet from…is this Rigellian fever, I’m seeing?”

  “I paid up front for medicine,” Tanner said. “The fever should have broken by now.”

  “You did?” the adjuster said, typing, glancing at the most leftward screen. “No. You didn’t pay anything. You pawned it off onto us, not even putting down a deposit. I’m afraid she only received the standard fare.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Sir, I would appreciate it if you kept a civil tone. This is Calisto Grandee. Everything here is done with the utmost decorum. If you find that you cannot keep your tone civil, I will add a discourtesy charge to your fees.”

  “What?”

  The adjuster paused in order to look down his nose and past the almost intervening edge of the desk at Tanner.

  Tanner looked away. Otherwise, he was going to surge up and slug the prick in the face.

  “Hmm, let me see,” the adjuster said, with bite to his words as he studied the middle screen. “Oh. I’m afraid under the rules of Nostradamus Law I cannot allow your feverish cr
ewmember out of quarantine just yet.”

  “There shouldn’t be a problem with that. I’m leaving Calisto Grandee.”

  “That has no bearing on the situation. She is extremely ill.”

  “What I’m trying to say—”

  Primly, the adjuster held up a hand. “Let me make myself utterly clear. You are in the Nostradamus System. If I deliver the sick crewmember to you, you might visit another Nostradamus habitat or dome and infect them with your feverish victim.”

  “No. I’m heading out-system.”

  “I realize this is what you’re saying, but to insure your compliance, we would have to send a warship all the way out-system to follow you. The fuel for such a journey out and back again would be prohibitive given the nature of the mission.”

  By sitting as straight as possible, Tanner could barely see the man over the front edge of the desk. That and the conversation were beginning to make him seriously angry.

  Tanner balled his hands into fists, working to control himself. He had to reason his way out of this. He had to get Jordan back onto the Dark Star. But if they wouldn’t release her just yet because of the fever…

  Clearing his throat, Tanner asked, “What kind of treatment has she received?”

  “I’ve already told you Calisto Grandee has paid the upfront cost out of the goodness of its collective humanity. But, the fever victim is a foreigner without funds. Thus, she received the minimum requirements. It has kept her alive so far. And for that, you should be grateful.”

  “Yes,” Tanner forced himself to say. “How much will it cost for her to receive maximum treatment?”

  The adjuster nodded knowingly. “That is a fine sentiment, sir. I congratulate you for it. I think ten thousand credits—”

  “Ten thousand!” Tanner shouted. “Are you giving her a new body?”

  The adjuster stared down his nose at Tanner. “That is a miserly tone, sir. We’re discussing one of your prized crewmembers. You just told me you desired that she receive V.I.P. treatment. If you disagree with my interpretation of what you just said, I can play back your words.”

  “I just want her to get better.”

  “I suppose it’s possible the fever will burn itself out. But…” the adjuster typed, studying the middle screen. “Too long of a burn-out could leave her permanently impaired. In her case, that could be with a twenty or more IQ point loss.”

  Brain damage, Tanner realized. “Okay. I want the best medicine but minimal facilities.”

  “The two do not coexist, sir, as the one is related to the other.”

  “Give me the best you can that matches my requirements.”

  “Hmm,” the adjuster said, typing. “I have a five thousand credit—”

  “No.”

  The adjuster glanced at Tanner. “Well, here is a three thousand credit—”

  “Give me a five hundred credit plan.”

  The adjuster looked up in shock. “Sir. That is a niggling sum considering your friend’s terrible and prolonged state.”

  Tanner studied his credit voucher. Earlier, he had believed the patrician generous. Now, considering the expenses of this luxury habitat, the amount might prove too little.

  “One thousand credits,” Tanner said, softly.

  The adjuster closed his eyes as if pained.

  “And a bonus for you if she pulls through,” Tanner said.

  The man opened his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Are you trying to bribe me, sir?”

  “Ah… No.”

  The adjuster appeared crestfallen, almost pouting. “One thousand credits in advance. Let me see what is available.” He typed, studied the screens, typed some more and frowned at what he saw.

  “I have a fifteen hundred credit—”

  “Listen!” Tanner said, shooting to his feet. He’d had enough of this.

  The adjuster’s right hand flashed to a large red button on the desk, one that Tanner hadn’t noticed earlier. “I can terminate the interview, if you wish. I should point out that if that happens, your ship will go up for auction and you and your crew will find yourselves on Shayol sooner than you can believe.”

  Tanner swallowed his anger, cursing himself for having come to Calisto Grandee. Slowly, he sat down again in the ridiculously low chair.

  The adjuster watched him before going back to typing. “Hmm, it appears I missed an eleven hundred credit possibility. It would entail the second best medical plan with a stay in a Grade C Facility.”

  “Let me see it.”

  The adjuster nodded, pressing a switch. Soon, he tore out a small printout, passing it across the desk.

  Tanner took it, but he couldn’t make out heads or tails about any of this medical gibberish. Jordan always deciphered those things for him.

  As Tanner stared at the various squiggles, he decided on a new strategy. “Do you happen to know what my profession is?” he asked the adjuster.

  “I do not, sir.”

  “I’m a bounty hunter,” Tanner said, looking up past the edge of the desk at the man.

  The adjuster eyed him, pursed his lips thoughtfully and finally nodded. “I suppose you mean that as a veiled threat.”

  “A veiled threat?” asked Tanner. “No. It’s not meant to be veiled at all.” He laughed in a carefree manner. “You would never believe the ruffians I’ve had to deal with. A more thorough group of rascals—and the head cracking and finger breaking—I am highly trained at my task and have learned to enjoy it immensely.”

  A touch of color appeared on the man’s cheeks. He shifted his right hand toward the button.

  Tanner dropped his voice as he said, “Do you know that Mar Bree and I had an interesting conversation before I entered your office.”

  The fingers halted just before they would have pressed the button.

  “She told me you have the most interesting living quarters,” Tanner said, “situated in a prime housing tract. I was so curious about it, I asked her to show me the spot. I must say, Senior Adjuster, after seeing it on a map, I’d love to see your home in person. We would have such a grand time together. I can already envision the things we would do. No matter how long it would take me to make such a visit…”

  The fingers that had reached for the button curled into a fist. The adjuster pulled his hand back. His cheeks had become pale.

  “This…” Tanner said, raising the printout, shaking his head.

  “Hmm, I may have miscalculated the estimate. Let me recheck.” The adjuster typed, glanced at the middle screen, made a few keystrokes and soon ripped out another printout. He handed it to Tanner.

  Tanner looked at it, frowning as he did. He couldn’t tell what this one said any better than the first. The point, though, hopefully, was that the adjuster didn’t know he couldn’t read Calisto Grandee script.

  “How much is this plan?” Tanner asked.

  “This price is on—”

  “I know very well the price is on here,” Tanner said in a scathing tone.

  “Oh,” the adjuster said. “Yes, I forgot.” He typed fast and gave Tanner a third printout.

  Tanner barely glanced at it. “Yes. This is acceptable.”

  “I should think so,” the adjuster said. “Now, let us go over your ship’s fees and penalties. I want to finish here before lunch, as I have an appointment I need to keep.”

  “Fine, as I’m in a hurry, too.”

  “Excellent,” the adjuster said, as he began to type furiously.

  -9-

  A little over an hour later, Tanner waited in the detention lobby.

  An armored guard stood by a steel hatch. Something winked on the guard’s belt. The man glanced at it, clicked it off and typed a code onto a box.

  The hatch slid up. A long-armed, Avernus apeman walked out. Greco wore a soiled uniform and looked thinner than before.

  Greco looked around and saw Tanner. “Boss,” he called.

  Tanner motioned him over.

  Greco hurried near. They shook hands, with Tanner slapping the
mechanic on the shoulder.

  “Good to see you,” Tanner said.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Not a chance,” Tanner said. “Let’s go. We’re on a tight schedule.”

  The two left the detention lobby, soon entering a narrow corridor. Tanner pulled out a small device, clicking it. Blinking lights appeared on the floor. They followed them, taking various twists and turns.

  “Are we going to get Jordan?” Greco asked.

  “No. She’s still sick with fever.”

  Greco glanced at him. Maybe the apeman heard the anger in his voice. “We’ve been here a while. Jordan should be better by now.”

  “Should be,” Tanner agreed.

  Greco glanced at him sidelong. “Is she dying?”

  Tanner shook his head. “I upgraded her situation and put her on prolonged medical care.”

  “I take it you finally found our client?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Tanner said.

  “Boss?”

  “A client found me.”

  Greco glanced at him again. “You’re making less sense than usual.”

  Tanner eyed the extended corridor. How likely was it that Calisto Grandee builders had put listening devices in the halls? How likely was it that anyone was listening to the two of them through such snooping devices? He hadn’t survived four hectic years out here by being the trusting sort.

  The other thing was Jordan. It bothered him she was still sick. Before hurrying to the detention lobby to get Greco, he’d seen her through a glass in the Grade C Facility. She’d looked gaunt and paler than he’d ever seen her. Jordan had been asleep with tubes in her arms. A nurse had assured him that he’d gotten her to them just in time.

  That meant the Calisto Grandee people had almost let her die. If she had…Tanner would have never forgiven himself for not selling the Dark Star to pay for her medical bills.

  Several minutes later, the blinking floor lights led Tanner and Greco to the hatch of a massive hangar bay, one bigger than Vesuvius’s spaceport. Robotic carts pulled huge wagons full of luggage. Workers with lit batons guided spaceships of various sizes to docking bays.