by Aubrey Ross
Shaking away the tangent, Vihlok asked, “What does the job entail, and more importantly, what does it pay?”
Contracts had been scarce lately. The Sabrotine Federation had thrown up blockades all over the star system. Arrogant bastards thought they owned the universe and few were powerful enough to argue the point. With pressure mounting from all sides, Vihlok had applied for a privateer’s license which gave him access to blockaded spaceports. He had no real love for the Sabrotine. It was just easier to work with them than against them.
“This one could be interesting.” Fibros rested his forearms on the round tabletop and leaned in close. “We wouldn’t ordinarily touch this sort of thing, but this is a lot of money.”
Vihlok stiffened. There were only two services he wouldn’t provide, kidnapping and assassination. “Are we talking disappearance or coerced negotiation?”
“Negotiation.”
They were thieves and smugglers. Intimidation and bribery didn’t even raise Vihlok’s pulse, but kidnapping? He scooted his chair closer to the table, and lowered his voice. “What is the client hoping to accomplish with the negotiation?”
“We’ve both been doing this long enough to know which questions are relevant. Why seldom enters the equation.”
It was a subtle reminder. Fibros had no trouble acting on incomplete information, while Vihlok wanted to understand every aspect of each situation. They needed to be able to control the sequence of events, but they were often protected by their ignorance.
“You confirmed the fee?” Vihlok suppressed his curiosity and focused on the facts.
Pulling the compact datapad from the front pocket of his nondescript work shirt, Fibros passed it to Vihlok. A deposit had been logged with the Interplanetary Bank of Sephora. If Vihlok accepted the job, he’d transmit a passcode and the funds would be transferred into a holding account for the duration of the contract. The client could no longer access the funds, but neither could Vihlok. Once the job was completed, the client would transmit their passcode, releasing the credits. The arrangement protected both sides and Sephoran bankers had gotten rich brokering the deals.
Vihlok whistled long and low when he saw the amount. “That is a lot of money.”
“This will give us some much needed stability. We’ve been dredging the bottom for too long. Wouldn’t it be nice to be selective again?”
He couldn’t argue with that and still tension gripped his abdomen. “Risk assessment?”
“Minimal.” Fibros motioned toward the datapad. “The entire job is outlined, opportunity, escape route, we will even be issued invitations to the event.”
“This is an inside job.” It wasn’t a question. Only someone close to the victim could arrange all this. Vihlok scrolled through the diagrams, his discomfort growing with each detail. Fibros was right about not asking why, yet the question screamed through Vihlok’s mind. “Is the mark in on it?”
“Didn’t ask. Don’t care. We disrupt a wedding and make off with the bride. It’s a pretty straightforward gig.”
“Are you sure you didn’t recognize the messenger?”
Fibros shook his head. “They all look the same after a while.”
Bliss was one of their best customers. Her clients expected luxuries that weren’t easy to find in this secluded sector. Bliss paid well and without argument, so they did their best to help keep her customers satisfied.
“Who submitted the contract?” Vihlok asked. “Are there references?”
“The credit confirmation is all the reference I need. Why are you being so squeamish?”
“This doesn’t feel right.” Tapping his thumb against one corner of the datapad, he reached for his half-empty mug of hazard. “How long do we have to accept or decline? I need to do some digging.”
“Digging into what? This couldn’t be cleaner if we’d planned it ourselves.”
“That’s the problem. It’s too damned easy. There has to be more to it than we know.”
“I’m sure there is, but we don’t need to know the motivation. We provide a service for a fee. As long as the fee compensates for the risk, and we can avoid collateral damage, we do the job. Those are your rules.”
Vihlok studied the details more closely, determined to figure out what was bothering him. “There’s a six-day lapse between the wedding and the ransom. What the venot are we supposed to do with our guest for six days?”
“According to the contract, we’re supposed to ‘irreversibly sully her reputation through direct or indirect means.’ You’re better with all that legal blin than I am, but it sounds like she wants a good fuck thrown into the bargain.”
Ignoring Fibros’s obvious amusement, Vihlok returned to his apartment. Space on Makar was limited, so all of the shops and personnel quarters were designed for functionality not comfort. Shrugging out of his metlar jacket, he tossed it onto the sleeping station. The garment might be heavy and hot, but it protected him from focused pulse blasts and thrusting blades.
His reality had changed dramatically when the Devauntian uprising began. Memories of life before his exile were hazy at best. His father had been overthrown when Vihlok was thirteen. The next twenty-one solar cycles evolved in an ever changing blur of danger and lies. He’d progressed from negotiator to smuggler to privateer, but the outcomes were all similar. Despite authorization from the Sabrotine Federation, he was a criminal, a man existing outside the law.
Silencing the past with practiced indifference, he crossed to his access terminal. The datapad named the groom, but gave no information about the bride. “Info search, King Vega of Peronite.”
“There are four thousand six hundred ninety-two entries referencing that name,” the computer told him.
“Do any of the records pertain to his upcoming wedding?”
“The official announcement, thirty-two media entries, and four interactive access points.”
It was a royal marriage; media frenzy was inevitable. “Display the official announcement.” He sat on the contoured alloy seat as the announcement materialized onscreen. His gaze skimmed down the page until the bride’s name caught his attention. “Confirm identity of the bride.”
“Princess Rana Jabulayni of the Devauntian Empire. Shall I display an image file?”
“Yes.” Vihlok could barely force the word out. Usurpers, murderers, and thieves, the House of Jabulayni was responsible for his present circumstance. War was brutal and barbaric, but at least it was honest. The Jabulayni butchers had murdered his parents while they slept! His older brother had followed and Vihlok would have been next if he hadn’t been small enough to escape through the ventilation ducts in the palace.
Fibros found him three days after the massacre, terrified and hungry, cold and unable to speak. They’d had no choice but to leave the planet, knowing the Jabulayni assassins wouldn’t rest until every member of the Royal House of Torral was wiped out of existence.
Vihlok gazed at the holoimage. Silky black hair framed Rana’s heart-shaped face. Prominent cheekbones and a full-lipped mouth distracted little from her wide glistening eyes. Light brown with a hint of red, the color was exclusive to the House of Jabulayni. Vihlok couldn’t deny her beauty. Her youth, however, gave him pause. She would have been a child when the war took place, innocent and -- He’d been a child too! He’d been reduced to a common criminal while the House of Jabulayni cannibalized the Devauntian economy.
Stunned and infuriated, he activated his audiocom.
“Go ahead,” Fibros responded to the page.
“Do you know who we’ve been contracted to abduct?”
Fibros chuckled. “Thought you’d enjoy the irony.”
“What’s to say this isn’t a trap? Who the fuck would contract me to abduct one of them?”
“The wedding is taking place on Peronite, and the empress has no reason to believe you’re still alive. This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. Make of it what you will.”
The link went dead and Vihlok was left staring at the
image of his enemy.
* * *
Rana clasped her hands into tight fists, determined not to reveal her apprehension. Simulated torches cast the formal garden in hazy golden light. Kashi had assured her repeatedly that the wedding would not take place. The younger woman refused to divulge the specifics of the impending abduction, fearing Rana’s reaction would be less than genuine if she knew what was going to happen.
King Vega stood at Rana’s side beneath a flowering arbor, resplendent in court finery. Her gown was no less elaborate, but her mood was anything but festive. The robed minister droned on and on, rudely performing the ceremony in Peronite without benefit of translation. If their surprise guests didn’t arrive soon it might be too late.
An abrupt pop startled Rana out of her anxious musings. She glanced over her shoulder as twin pillars of smoke billowed into the night sky. People covered their mouths and coughed, instinctively huddling into protective groups or darting toward the surrounding buildings.
Vega’s private guards rushed in from one side and Rana’s advanced from the other. Dressed in formal suits, with the lower portion of their faces covered, three men emerged from the panicked guests and insinuated themselves between Rana and her guards.
One of the raiders grabbed her around the waist and trapped her arms against her sides. “Back off!” he shouted and pressed a gun against the side of her head. Surprise and fear made her yelp and then go perfectly still. He wasn’t really hurting her. She just hadn’t expected the kidnapping to be this realistic.
A foolishly brave guard lunged for her and one of the abductors blasted a warning shot right between his feet. He scrambled back, weapon raised in a non-threatening manner.
“Wait!” Vega held up both hands. “Why are you doing this? What are your terms? We can negotiate without involving Rana.”
Her captor’s arm tightened painfully and Rana cried out.
“We’ll negotiate when I control the situation.” He dragged her along the gravel path and through an arched opening in the high perimeter hedge. His companions followed, keeping the guards back with compact rifles positioned against their shoulders, solid and steady.
She struggled against her captor’s hold, dragging her feet and twisting her upper body. They were a bit too good at this. A violent shiver slipped down her spine and she wiggled one arm free. Instead of scratching his arm or inflicting pain, she shoved the gun away from her temple. “A dead hostage won’t do you any good.”
He made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle and hurried her across the wide side lawn. They piled into a skimmer and took off at breakneck speed. She gasped and reached for the nearest solid object, which happened to be her captor’s thigh. There was no mistaking his throaty laugh the second time. He covered her hand with his and guided it to the railing in front of her.
Night air whipped her veil around her face and shoulders, sending another shiver down her spine.
“We’re not going far,” he told her. “You’ll be much more comfortable on my ship.”
“Ship?” Keeping one hand on the railing, she crossed the other arm over her chest. “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
They lapsed into silence as the skimmer sped along. She glanced behind, but there was no sign of pursuit. Had Vega been caught completely unprepared or did he not care that his fiancée had just been kidnapped? The lack of response stung her pride, though it served her purpose better. She hadn’t been able to accomplish as much as she’d hoped in the short time since the marriage had been announced.
The skimmer raced toward their destination. Rana studied her surroundings, but the darkness and her minimal knowledge of Peronite conspired against her. Did Kashi know where these men were taking Rana, or would she be out of contact with everyone for the duration of her “captivity”? No guards, no regimented agenda, or meddling mother? She wouldn’t know what to do with herself.
A smile played about her lips and she enjoyed the brisk wind against her face. The Pirates were being suspiciously civil. Did they realize she was their client? They had been given detailed plans and invitations to the wedding. They had to realize she was involved to some extent.
She looked at the man seated next to her, intrigued by his strong profile. The lower half of his face was covered by a stretchy material he had apparently pulled up from under his neck cloth. The wind tossed his dark hair, creating messy waves. Tingling awareness passed down her spine, but the elusive image remained just out of reach. Did she know this man? That would explain Kashi’s certainty about his proficiency and character.
His shoulders were broad and those long arms had maneuvered Rana with effortless strength. As if sensing her gaze, he turned his head and looked at her. His thick-lashed eyes were pale in the moonlight, but she couldn’t determine if they were green or blue.
He made his living on the fringes of civilization, doing things no one else would dare. His base of operations was Spaceport Makar, but she didn’t even know his name. Despite Kashi’s confidence in this man, Rana’s real security came from the Sephoran bankers and their two-stage transfer process.
The stranger’s gaze lingered on her face and his brows scrunched together. He couldn’t see her through the veil, she realized. Had he heard of the Devauntian Empire or was this just another job?
“It’s not far now,” he said and one of the men behind them snorted, obviously amused by his concern.
Dragging her attention away from her captor, she stared out across the rolling hills. She’d made some progress with the leaders on her home world. Most everyone she spoke with agreed that changes were desperately needed. Still, no one was anxious to move against the empress. Anyone who opposed Empress Bakula had a way of disappearing.
The skimmer slowed and Rana looked up. Silhouetted against the moonlit sky was a familiar ship, the sleek lines and sweptback wings unmistakable even in the darkness. “That’s my mother’s ship. Why did you steal a royal transport? She loves this ship.”
None of the men replied to her objection. The leader helped her down from the skimmer and one of the others fastened a clip on the control console and sent the simple transport speeding off in the opposite direction. This explained how they’d gotten onto the compound without incident, but how had they overridden the biometric security on the cruiser? It took a member of the royal family to activate the ship’s primary systems.
A ramp extended from the hatch as their small party approached. Someone must be inside the ship. She didn’t bother with questions. The men were obviously focused on escape.
Would it be to her advantage to reveal that this was not an ordinary kidnapping? All she really needed was a ride off this rock and a place to hide while she… Her thoughts skittered to a halt as she climbed the ramp. Though similar in appearance, this was not her mother’s ship. The royal crest was missing and the interior was not nearly as well maintained.
“Where did you get a Devauntian cruiser?” These ships were only issued to members of the aristocracy. Had the owner been harmed because of her?
The leader motioned to her left. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”
She studied the corridors as she walked, hoping for a family seal or indication of who owned the ship. Her captor scanned open the door to one of the staterooms and she paused, unable to ignore her concern any longer.
“No one was to be hurt,” she said. “That was clear in the contract. How did you get this ship?”
He urged her into the cabin and locked the door with a voice command. “What kind of woman arranges her own abduction? That question has bothered me ever since I received your message.”
“I have valid reasons for what I did and they have nothing to do with you. If someone was harmed because of our arrangement, I am partially to blame.”
Pulling the face covering off over his head, he tossed the fabric ring aside. He unfastened his jacket, his gaze never leaving hers. His movements were slow, almost threatening, yet the leap in her pulse had
nothing to do with fear. Her nipples tightened and heat cascaded through her abdomen. He was rugged and unabashedly male, his formal attire accenting an underlying savagery.
A memory stirred in the back of her mind. Simulated candlelight and brightly colored gowns, people crowding the perimeter of a ballroom as they watched a dashing couple dance. She tried to focus the image, to summon the details or significance, but the memory slipped away. Why had this…criminal made her think of a formal gala? It was more than just his garments. He was somehow connected to the memory.
“The ship was acquired long before you entered the equation,” he told her. “In that, at least, you are blameless.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? How have I failed to uphold my end of the bargain?”
“You are either the bravest woman I’ve ever met or the most foolish.” Challenge flashed in his bright, blue eyes as he untied his neck cloth. “You have intentionally put yourself at the mercy of men you know nothing about.”
Despite his casual tone, the comment rankled. Kashi had made the arrangements and Rana trusted her handmaiden. That trust had never been tested in such a literal way before, but Rana had no reason to doubt the other woman.
She removed the pins securing her veil and dragged it from her head. “If you harm me in any way, you won’t see one credit of your fee.”
He hesitated as his gaze caressed her face, his expression grim and assessing. “There are several ways I could spin this. I could issue ransom demands to both your mother and your fiancé and see who values you more.”
“My mother is in the middle of a financial crisis and Vega was reluctant to accept me before this little adventure. He’s far too proud to burden himself with a tainted bride.” She wasn’t nearly as sure of the second claim as the first, but her captor didn’t know that. “Your best bet is me. I’ve offered more than adequate compensation for the service you’re providing.”