by Skyler Grant
“Pass,” Quinn said as he pushed back from the table. “Good luck in your search.”
“I know the money is enough. I know you need the work,” Tamara said, and there was steel in her tone. Quinn might have admired the gold flecks in the green of her eyes as she stared at him—were that look not so predatory.
“You aren’t wrong, lady, but that don’t mean I have to take yours. I just have an abundance of caution. Suspect you know the reason why, if you really bothered to read through my files,” Quinn said.
“Part of the reason I want you? You take the occasional risk, but you know where to draw the line. Add another two hundred to the offer,” Tamara said.
“All that and you only went up ten percent? See … that tells me something about you. You’re almost at the end of your resources and that means you started high. Beneath all that polish you’re desperate,” Quinn said.
“So are you.”
Quinn shook his head. “No, ma’am, there you’re wrong. I might be in need of work and need of coin, but I still have options. Putting myself and those who trust me between you and whatever trouble is dogging you isn’t a choice I have to make. Like I said, I wish you well.”
Tamara frowned at that but tilted her head. A silent acknowledgment of the point. Quinn put his winnings away. It was time to get back to the Kathyrn. Taki should have been able to strike a deal by now. Get off this moon while the getting was good.
5
It was evening by the time Quinn made it back to the docks. Evening being a bit of a relative term given night wouldn’t fall on Corono for another hundred hours. Still, people liked their cycles and dock lights were at half power.
There had been a new arrival since Quinn left. The bulky vessel took up one of the more expensive berths right near the exit, on its hull the prominent markings of the Imperial Marines. Several armored soldiers looked to be unloading cargo in its vicinity. Quinn avoided them as he slipped past to where the Kathryn was docked.
Melody was at work in the hold when he arrived. It looked like she was doing her utmost to separate the gardening truck from the ship’s hull. Probably a good idea. Quinn slipped the pouch he’d gotten at Monk’s out of his pocket and tossed it over. “Get us fueled up and ready to bounce. Imperial Marines are in port, I want to be off this moon in an hour.”
Melody caught the pouch one-handed and peered inside. “Not even enough to top off the tank, boss? I’ll see what I can do. Taki isn’t back yet.”
Perhaps the farmers had to go digging for their money in a field or something. Quinn had run into stranger things on rural worlds. He hit his comm.
“Taki, what is the hold up?” Quinn asked.
Silence was the only answer.
Melody frowned and, slipping the coin pouch into her overalls, headed towards a work station. “Let me see if she triggered her transponder.”
They didn’t normally use transponders. About the last thing any of them wanted was a record of where they were going and what they’d been up to. Still, Quinn made everybody carry one just for emergencies.
“I don’t see her, boss. It hasn’t been activated,” Melody said.
There was no reason for her not to be answering. Anywhere on the moon should be in range. The governor’s estate might have a comm dampener, but she wouldn’t be there.
Trouble then, and the sort that had taken her by surprise before she could hit her transponder.
“I’m going to go see Monk again,” Quinn said.
Melody didn’t even question it. If Taki had gotten nabbed with that cargo, it meant trouble for them. The safest thing to do would be to bail. Melody wasn’t the sort to turn on a friend though.
The streets were quiet, even for the night hours, and there was more than one soldier in the town. Red body armor, interlocking concussion-absorbent plates, energy rifles. Quinn doubted the populace even had any weapons that could do more than irritate them.
The Broken Mug had a few sad souls still drinking themselves into a grave. The same bartender was working, although this time upon catching sight of Quinn she shook her head.
Quinn approached. “I need to see him.”
“You had an invite before, don’t have one now. Man don’t need to see you,” the bartender said.
“Just let him know I’m here. Please,” Quinn said.
The bartender gestured him over to a seat. It was a good five minutes before she finally gave him the nod and Quinn went through the same process as earlier, being led through the labyrinth of back halls to Monk’s office.
It was a hive of activity. The black-haired girl was packing up her equipment and Monk was loading papers into a briefcase.
“Not taking the art?” Quinn asked.
“I leave it behind, I get to buy new. See you didn’t take my advice. I thought it over and decided I should. If you’re here about that cargo you sold, I’ll have to pass,” Monk said.
“Not about that, not exactly. Taki has gone missing, was trying to find a buyer. I thought you might have heard something.”
Monk rubbed at his eyes. “Think they grabbed your better half, eh? You should marry that girl, Quinn. Seen the way she looks at you.”
“Day I take love advice from a man calling himself Monk isn’t going to come,” Quinn said.
The dark-haired girl spoke up. “It isn’t actually because he’s celibate, or ascetic. Kind of the opposite. It’s all a bit ironic.”
Monk grinned at her.
“Don’t need to know about your personal life. We’re good, you and me. Mostly,” Quinn said.
“Tell me what you stole. I might not get a cut, but I hate leaving a mystery unsolved,” Monk said.
“Fertile seeds, Imperial colony development. They’ve been coming in for awhile,” Quinn said.
“He’s been bleeding this place dry this whole time?” Monk said, and chuckled, shaking his head. “Hear that, Dela? We’re in the wrong business. Just when you think you’re the biggest criminal on this stinking pool of piss, you overlook him that was doing the pissing all along.”
“Kind of mixed the dry and the wet there. Blood and piss. Didn’t work,” Quinn said.
“Fuckin’ metaphors. Fine, I’m a romantic. You heard the Marines were in town?” Monk asked.
“They have her?” Quinn asked.
“Don’t know. Give me a minute and let me check. I still got friends I can call,” Monk said, waving a hand and moving from the desk to disappear from the room.
“So are you two an item?” Quinn asked Dela.
“I appreciate a man with a sense of style and who knows how to take care of a lady,” Dela said.
Quinn thought that sounded more than a little mercenary. That probably made the two of them a good match.
“Where are you two going?” Quinn asked.
“Someplace where our past won’t follow us and we have discretion enough not to talk about it,” Dela said.
Right, Quinn thought. Monk was the great conversationalist of the two. Who would have thought it?
A few more minutes passed in awkward silence as Dela continued to pack before Monk re-entered the room.
“Marines don’t have your girl. That means it has to be the governor,” Monk said.
That was both a good and a bad thing. The Imperials would have made it a lot more difficult to stage any sort of rescue, but at least they’d have kept her alive. With the governor he’d be wanting to know her accomplices. Torture and death were in Taki’s future unless he could get to her in time.
“Thank you. That helps,” Quinn said.
Dela glanced over at Monk. “I think you can give him a little more than that.”
“We’ve done our part, girl. We already did more than we had to,” Monk said.
Dela gave Monk a long and pointed look. It was the sort of look that made Quinn question just how close they really were. One couldn’t usually get under your skin that much without a lot of digging.
Monk closed his eyes and let out a low breath.
“Fine. Gleason, town constabulary. This time of night you’ll find him off on the west side on patrol. You got the money, he’ll talk to you. If not, he’s a right bastard that gets whatever is coming to him.”
“Say ‘thank you, Monk’. Say ‘I owe you one, Dela’,” Dela told Quinn.
“Thank you, Monk. I owe you one, Dela,” Quinn said.
“Not that we’ll be around to collect. I know I already gave the warning once, but the Marines that are here? They aren’t talking about why and that means a world of trouble. Find that girl and get gone,” Monk said.
“Planning on it,” Quinn said.
One of the guards led him out and on the street Quinn pondered his next course of action.
Backup would be nice, but the only option was Melody and she wasn’t very good with a gun—and besides, she was needed to get the ship prepped for launch. Monk had done enough for him, it sounded like he needed to go alone.
Despite being well into “night” the sun was still high in the sky and the heat was unrelenting. There was even less traffic on the streets now, and one Marine on patrol for every citizen remaining. At least the soldiers weren’t stopping anyone. Whatever their mission was it, didn’t involve hassling the citizens—yet.
The western end of the settlement was the industrial part of town. The few local factories were here, already shut down for the night. Warehouses lined the street with doors chained shut.
Running around calling out the constable’s name didn’t seem the best approach and so instead Quinn just stayed quiet and kept an ear out. After a few minutes the sound of conversation led him to a warehouse, the door cracked open. Peeking inside Quinn saw several figures talking, standing around a transport vehicle.
“We were expecting five, not three,” said one.
“There are Imperials on the streets. Be glad you got any and go while you can,” said another.
“We get our missing two—or maybe we’ll settle for four. You can make up the numbers yourself, Gleason,” said the first meaningfully.
This was him then. Quinn needed a plan.
6
Quinn could wait outside for the business within to be concluded, but it sounded like Gleason might be in trouble. Quinn needed him alive, and also had concerns about the Marines roaming the streets. He hadn’t seen any on patrol yet in this part of town, but that could just be luck so far.
Circling the warehouse, Quinn found a ladder at the back used for roof access. Most of the local structures took advantage of the plentiful local sunlight and this warehouse was no exception with large glass panels. Most were secured, but pulling one eased it open and carefully Quinn let himself slip through to land on a catwalk.
This put Quinn twenty feet above the warehouse floor. Crouching down, he made his way forward so he could get an idea just what sort of business Gleason was involved in. It was almost certainly criminal, which was common enough. Once a lawman got a little dirty, going full-on filthy was easy.
Two men and one woman, off-world attire, heavily armed. Then Gleason, in the uniform of the local constabulary with an armband bearing the governor’s crest. And in the bed of the transport, people. Three of them. Quinn recognized them, the teens he’d seen in the bar earlier hoping for a starship crew. They’d been bound and gagged, and all seemed to be sporting fresh bruises.
Slavers then. Slavery was illegal in the Imperium, at least the slavery of human beings. It didn’t stop it from happening outside it. In brand new colony worlds, and places on the far edge of civilized space. There the oldest and worst sins lived on.
The three slavers and Gleason were still talking, and it was no surprise about what. They wanted more captives and he didn’t have it to give them. The arrival of the Marines must have put a damper on his gathering efforts. If the slavers were smart they’d accept this and move on, but they didn’t seem that bright.
Quinn had a height advantage and the element of surprise. If he started shooting he might be able to win, but he couldn’t see a way that would get him what he wanted. Worst case, he’d wind up dead. The slavers would think it an ambush and might kill Gleason. If Quinn just killed the slavers, Gleason might kill him. Kill everybody, and Quinn wouldn’t get his answers.
The safest thing to do would be to let the slavers finish up their business and depart. The harsh words were probably just a threat. If they knew Imperial Marines were on the street they wouldn’t start shooting. Once they were done Quinn could get the answers he wanted out of Gleason. It would also mean letting the three farm kids go off to a life of hard labor—if they were fortunate.
Going to the Imperials himself might have been a tactic were he a more law-abiding citizen. Whatever else those Marines might be here for, they’d still stop a slaver’s ship if it came to their attention, and he doubted they’d take what the governor was doing with the farmers well. The unfortunate tendencies of law and order types meant that Quinn would probably see himself inside a cell as well.
None of those options worked. Quinn was a fair shot, but not enough to risk the shootout, and while he might be a selfish and self-serving kind of a bad-guy, he wasn’t the sort to leave those dumb kids to their fate.
Quinn slipped his emergency transponder from his pocket and triggered it, dropping it into the truck below. It bounced off one of the teens and clinked on the bed. It seemed incredibly loud to Quinn, but none of the four arguing made note of it. That was step one. Quinn made his way to the furthest corner of the catwalk and away from the figures, and opened up a comm to Melody.
“Boss, are you okay? I’m firing up the engines,” Melody said, panicked. The transponder had transmitted the fall from the catwalk.
“I’m fine. It isn’t me. Slavers, I just dropped the transponder in their cargo. When you see it start to move I want you to call Monk and tell him what’s going on. Ask him to tell his old friends,” Quinn said.
It was a gamble, and more than Quinn was really comfortable with. Monk might already be gone, or he might just not take the call. It was also his best option to both do the right thing and get what he wanted.
Quinn killed the comm, drew his pistol and waited. All of this would be for nothing if the slavers were going to get violent.
Another three minutes of threats and the slavers finally tossed Gleason a small bag of coins before boarding the transport and leaving the warehouse. Quinn waited until they were clear. Gleason was counting the cash, which was all the opportunity Quinn needed to leap down on him, cracking him over the head with the butt of his pistol.
By the time Gleason came to he’d been tied up, his hands bound behind one of the warehouse support beams.
“I don’t know who you are, but you’re making a mistake,” Gleason said.
“Probably, often do. We find ourselves in quite the situation though, don’t you think? You, you’re a local constable and you got all the authority on your side, but here we are in the warehouse where you just sold three young folk into slavery and have the dirty money in your pockets. You go screaming for help, it might be one of your people that answers and I’m dead. Or might be the Imperials,” Quinn said.
Gleason thought that over. Malice was in his eyes, but greed too.
“You left me the money?” Gleason asked.
Quinn nudged one of Gleason’s pockets with his foot. The jangle of the disks could be heard. “All there. Now, I have no problem with robbing a man who would sell folks into slavery. No problem with killing one either, if it came to that.”
Gleason scowled at the threat, but the words seemed to be sinking in. “What do you want?”
“Information. Friend of mine got taken today and I think it was by the governor’s men. I want to know everything there is to know,” Quinn said.
“I know the one you mean. Let me out of here, I can take you right to her,” Gleason said.
Quinn drew a utility knife from his belt, nursing it thoughtfully. “Now, I’m told I have a tendency for following bad plans, but even I recognize how that one
would end. Try again.”
“Let me go, I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Gleason tried.
“Perhaps the power dynamic of this situation still hasn’t made itself clear? I could gag you and cut on you for a time until it becomes evident, but I’m in a hurry and would rather skip all of those deep and bleeding manifestations of my authority,” Quinn said.
Gleason gave Quinn a hard look as if trying to judge if he’d do it.
Quinn knew he would, but it wasn’t his first choice. Being hard didn’t mean you had to be a monster. Not if they gave you a choice, and most would give you a choice if you let them.
“The Asian bitch, right?” Gleason asked.
“I think it’s better if we both stay civil, don’t you?”
“The uh, lady, with the seeds. Farmer she was trying to sell them to called her in for trying to run a scam on them. Governor got real pissed, didn’t want her in the jail. He’s got a few cells in the basement at his estate. Place he likes for special prisoners,” Gleason said.
“More details,” Quinn said.
“Northeast corner. There are two entrances, one from outside where there’s always a guard on duty. Another from inside, if the governor wants to visit ‘em for a quiet chat.” Gleason looked sly.
Quinn could read a lot of possible meanings into that. It might be real conversation, or torture of one form or another.
“Know where the estate entrance comes from?” Quinn asked. “On the inside?”
“Library. Everyone knows the governor loves his books,” Gleason said.
Right, say he was stepping into the library for a few quiet hours and he could be doing whatever he wanted with his prisoners without being disturbed.
That was enough to work with. Quinn cracked Gleason upside the head with his pistol, knocking him out again, and then gagged the man. Quinn could kill him, but figured Gleason had bad enough coming his way. If the Imperials caught those slavers, any who survived would share their local contact and they’d come looking.