Jayeer narrowed his eyes. "Do you mean ...?"
"Well, think about it, Jay," said Pellis. "Who do you think it might be? It certainly isn't us."
"Hmm," said Jayeer looking thoughtful. "It just could be possible at that."
"If it is, keeping the Sirona wondering would give me a great deal of satisfaction," said Timon, and smiled. "I'm a bit concerned about this Milnus. He's just too secretive about the whole thing. There is something else going on there. Whether it concerns us or not remains to be seen. He appears to have the resources, though. Did you notice his clothes? They were understated, but I wouldn't mind betting that they cost a few creds."
"Whatever is going on," said Jayeer. "If we can frustrate our little friends, then I'm for it."
"Yes, me too," said Timon. "Though I wouldn't mind knowing what he's doing in Marina's company." He shrugged. "Well, regardless, it looks like it's what we want. Mahra?"
Mahra nodded to Timon and then to Jayeer. As far as she was concerned, getting out from under Sirona scrutiny suited her. She was a little worried about what they were getting in to, but decided it couldn't be any worse than the position they were now in. She had faced worse things and survived.
"Good," said Timon. "Then we're settled."
They finished their drinks and made their way back to the docks to prepare for their meeting with their new employer.
Chapter Nineteen
Valdor found very little information about the man Pellis, and his ship. The standard registration details were there. Pellis was listed as a trader, nothing more. The name was known, but there was nothing significant to report. In truth, Carr will have liked a little more, but in the current circumstances he recognised he would have to do without.
He was feeling relatively pleased with himself as he headed to the dock area. His plans were falling neatly in to place, almost of their own accord.
When he reached the berth holding The Dark Falcon, he was suitably impressed. She looked like a good ship. Pellis's talk of running in to a spot of bother off Belshore would appear to have been slightly more than that, for the outer hull bore marks of a heavy battle. Work was proceeding to remove those scars, but from what he could see it must have been some firefight. Deep gouges marked the surface in several places and he doubted whether they could be patched effectively without a complete overhaul. He suspected the ship would bear the traces of the conflict for some time to come. Despite the apparent damage, it still looked up to making the journey he intended for it.
Valdor announced himself at the lock, banging sharply on the inner metal wall. Pellis appeared in the doorway a few moments later and ushered him inside. Valdor was impressed by what he found inside too, as he was given a brief guided tour. It was definitely non-standard, but it showed superior design. He had no doubt it was adequately crewed by three people and had been planned with that in mind.
As they entered the rec room Valdor's nostrils filled with the strong aroma of freshly brewed kahveh. The other two crew members were sitting around the central table with mugs in front and their faces lifted as he entered behind Pellis. Both nodded and he returned the perfunctory greeting. There was an extra mug sitting half-finished on the table, obviously belonging to Pellis. The tall man followed Valdor's glance.
"Can I offer you a mug, Mezzer Milnus, before we get down to business, as they say?" he asked.
Valdor shook his head in response. "No, thanks all the same. I think it'd be better to get straight on to what we have to talk about."
"All right then. Grab yourself a seat," Timon said, outstretched hand indicating a place opposite the other two crew members.
Valdor took the proffered place making a mental note of the lack of ceremony and waited until Pellis sat at the end of the table before speaking. As he did so, he reached into his coat and pulled out the package which he placed on the table in front of him.
"Now, this is what I want you to carry. It's not very large, but it has quite a bit of significance for me. There's a problem, in that I want this to remain hidden at all costs. The way I plan for this to be transported, is to have it implanted."
"What do you mean, implanted?" said Pellis, frowning at him. "If you meant what I think you mean — "
Valdor held up his hands. "No wait. Hear me out. It's perfectly safe. My technical people have assured me of that. It is essential that this is not discovered. For that reason, I want it inserted into the body of one of you three. Possibly a large muscle, say in the thigh. Because it's totally organic, it will escape scanning, and somebody would have to know exactly where they were looking to find it. I think that's doubtful, don't you?" He looked around their faces before continuing.
"I've been thinking about which one of you should carry it, and I have decided that it should be Mez Kaitan."
"Wait just a minute. Why her?" said Pellis.
"Well it's obvious, isn't it? It's clear to me what function she performs as a member of your crew. She looks like she can look after herself. And people are going to think twice about searching her. On top of that, it would not be unusual for someone in her line of work to have a fresh cut or wound on her body somewhere."
Pellis still looked doubtful and Mahra, though not having said anything was sitting with a frown etched across her brow.
"Now I realise you may need to have some form of cover story in the event that you were intercepted en route. For that reason, I will arrange to have a light cargo of art works delivered to your ship. Overtly they would be the reason for the voyage. You will be shipping them to my private estates on Kalany."
Pellis raised his eyebrows and glanced at his companions. Not an unexpected reaction. Valdor should had phrased that last better.
"Are there any problems with the concept so far?" he asked, and turned to look at each in turn. Sind merely shrugged and Mahra gave a brief shake of her head. He was about to continue when Pellis interrupted.
"Would you mind telling us the nature of this package?"
"Um, I'd prefer not to go in to exact details," answered Valdor. "You don't really need to know that at this point."
"So you say, Mezzer Milnus. But if one of my crew is going to be carrying it, especially within, rather than on her person, I'd feel a lot more comfortable knowing what it is."
Valdor turned to Mahra as he framed his response. "As I think you're the appropriate person to do the carrying, let me assure you there is absolutely no risk to you personally. The package is sealed in a carefully designed coating that will protect your body from it, and, at the same time, it from your body. It will be virtually indistinguishable from your own tissue in the event of a scan."
"So, you say there's no risk involved. If it's organic, how can I be sure of that?" asked Mahra.
"Yes, I can see your point. I can give you no guarantee of that, nothing that can prove it to you here and now. In that respect, I guess you'll just have to trust what I'm telling you. You can rest assured that I'm confident that what I'm telling you is the truth. Besides, in the event you were to experience any ill-effects — that won't happen — but if you do, you'll know the implant's location and you could take steps to have it removed."
Mahra considered his response, then asked him to proceed.
"Now just to be sure of that, is there any one of you with med training?" Valdor asked.
"Aye," said Timon. "Jayeer here has his fair share of skills in that area."
"Good. I thought as much. It would be unusual for at least one person on a crew not to have the skills, but I thought I'd better make sure. If we're agreed then, we can get this exercise under way," Valdor said, pausing for any negative responses before continuing. "I noticed on the way in, that you had quite a bit of work going on. Repairs and the like. How long do you think before the ship will be in a fit state to leave?"
"Oh, no more than a two day," Timon answered thoughtfully. "She could leave right now, but it would not be pretty travelling with all those unsightly marks, if you know what I mean. I'd prefer to hav
e her in a state that has some semblance of her normal pristine self. I'm sure you appreciate that the sort of wear and tear she's showing at the moment would only drew attention to her and make people inquisitive."
"No, that's fine. I was only concerned that it shouldn't be any longer than that. In fact, as far as I'm concerned that is almost perfect timing. It gives me time to arrange for the consignment I mentioned and to have it delivered. It also should allow the implant to be just about fully healed."
Valdor held up his hand placatingly as the woman humphed dubiously at the last statement and looked away.
"If you're sure you're in agreement, we can proceed," he said, looking questioningly in Mahra's direction prompting, after a pause, a grudging nod of assent. "Good. I'll arrange for the appropriate cross-transfers to be made and for the delivery. You should expect that two days hence. If everything is in order we may as well get this started."
Chapter Twenty
The time came too quickly for Mahra's liking and she made sure Chutzpah was securely locked away in their cabin before the proceedings began. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea about what was happening to her and react accordingly. She had visions of him leaping to her defence without really understanding and causing quite a bit of damage before they could stop him. It wouldn't do to have him upset the process at this stage.
Jayeer used his med training to good advantage as the implant was set in place. The operation was painful, but not more than she could stand. The upper area of her right leg was numbed with anaesthetic spray and a quick incision made just below the muscle in her thigh. Blood flow was minimal, not only because of the speed of the exercise, but also because they had chilled the relevant area in preparation. The suitably sterilised package was slipped into the small wound and pushed into place. The cut was then sealed with a healthy layer of plas-skin. The entire exercise took less than three minutes and their employer looked on with approval as Jayeer's fingers deftly did what was required.
Mahra was still disturbed about what she was doing. She was not sure she liked the idea of being a human container, but she supposed she could live with it. The anaesthesia was enough to keep most of the discomfort at bay. At the moment, her leg merely felt warm where they had placed the implant. The plas-skin would see to the healing process and it also contained a fair share of numbing chemicals. She knew, however, that it would took a full two days at least to regain proper use of her leg.
For now, there was very little for The Dark Falcon's crew to do except wait. The mysterious Milnus left them with his stated expectation that they were to have no further contact with him. The consignment of artwork would be delivered at the proper time and he would arrange for them to be met separately when they reached their destination. As far as their shadowy employer was concerned, his part of the arrangement was at an end.
Mahra settled herself for sleep. During the night, she hoped that nature would take its course and speed the healing process. She decided before turning in, that she'd skip her ritual exercises. There was no point in putting unnecessary strain on her newly opened leg, and missing one night of the routine wouldn't do too much harm.
When they were in port, they slept on board as a matter of course. There was no need, after all, to hand over good creds for accommodation when they had their own. She was used to the narrow quarters and she doubted whether she'd feel comfortable in the open spaces provided by a hotel room. Chutzpah had also made himself at home. When he wasn't perched on her shoulder, he claimed a spot on the shelf above her bunk as his own. Any attempt to move him results in angry protestations. At night, he would jump down from his chosen roost and burrow about in the bedding until he had found a warm spot to nestle in close to her body. That routine was unchanged as she prepared for sleep. She had to push him gently away from her leg as he pressed against it and gave her a twinge of pain.
Next morning, she woke and breakfasted as normal. It was late in the morning by the time they all rose to the din of the workman attending to the ongoing repairs. If the work kept up at the current pace, The Dark Falcon would be ready well within their budgeted deadline. Again, there was little to do until their shipment arrived, and they didn't expect it until the following day, so Mahra spent the day wandering the local streets. She reasoned that a bit of exercise wouldn't hurt the healing process and would also prevent the wound from stiffening up. She had learnt from experience that stiffening of the limb was likely if she left a deep gash without movement during its healing process. When that happened, she had to expend double the effort to bring herself up to peak form.
By late afternoon she was bored and restless. New Helvetica was not really that interesting as an attraction, and as a port city it was the same as any other. She felt she could do with a bit of recreation. There didn't seemed to be much to warrant her keeping her senses about her and perhaps a good session was long overdue.
When finally she reached the ship, the other two didn't take much convincing. They grabbed something quick and horrible to eat at one of the local diners just so they might have something in their stomachs before they started. Then, shortly after dark, they hit their first bar.
Two drinks later, they headed to the next one, and after two more, the one after that. By the time they reached the fifth, the evening was beginning to wear on, the crowds were becoming more boisterous and the atmosphere full of noise and recreational haze. They were all starting to feel a little fuzzy.
The fifth establishment was obviously one of the less reputable houses in the area and the patrons were a mixed and seedy lot. The three were beyond the point of caring at this stage and headed into the bar regardless. They ignored the belligerent looks and slight shoving they experienced on the way to make their order. All they cared about was continuing what they'd started.
Mahra stood behind the other two at the bar as they tried to signal for drinks through the press of bodies clustered around the serving area. She felt herself being jostled but couldn't be bothered raising a protest. It was not until she felt the hand groping her from behind that she turned and swung. She did so by reflex. Nobody touched her like that without her permission.
Her fist connected smack in the middle of a rough-hewn face, turning the look from intended lechery to immediate surprise. The navy type staggered back, blood starting to stream from his nose. Immediately a hush fell over the surrounding customers. Slowly her assailant raised a hand to his face and inspected it as it came away covered in blood. Equally as slowly, his gaze rose from the hand to rest on Mahra's face. His eyes widened and then narrowed in fury. The crowd around them stepped back a pace in anticipation.
"Now, friend," came Timon's voice from over Mahra's shoulder. "I think that my crewmate here has expressed her displeasure and that should be an end to it."
Pellis stepped forward from behind her, placing himself, hands squarely on his hips, just to one side. The navy type with the bloody nose looked from one to the other, eyes still narrowed and his mouth started to curl in a sneer that was accentuated by the trail of blood from his nose. At the same time, another burly crewman stepped up beside him, crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at the pair. Mahra assessed the situation and slowly, she let her arm creep backward toward her blade.
"Why don't you just forget about it, mate?" she asked. "We can all have a drink and cool down a bit."
"Naah. I don't think that's going to happen, girlie," the second of the two said still grinning. "I think you're going to provide us with a little entertainment. Hey mates?" he said, addressing the watching crowd as he took a step forward.
Mahra knew that look and she felt the anger burn within her as she quickly drew her blade. "I don't think that's such a good idea, friend," she said, calmly fixing him with a steady gaze. "Do you?"
She backed toward the bar, stopping as she felt the comfort of its solid surface protecting her from behind. She willed herself to calm. The man facing her paused for only an instant at the sight of her blade, losing his grin f
or just the briefest instant. She could feel Chutzpah tensing on her shoulder.
Then, everything happened at once. The navy type she was facing off reached for his belt and in one fluid motion unclipped a sliver. The one facing Pellis moved forward swinging and Pellis strode forward catching him a ringing blow on his already damaged nose.
The crewman Timon hit fell back swearing into the crowd behind him and they promptly pushed him forward again. Mahra wove her blade in the air in front of her as the other crewman circled warily.
There was a sudden pain in her right leg and Mahra looked down to see a hand holding a small knife. She cried out and fell forward to one knee. The blade had gone in almost exactly on the spot where the package was inserted, digging painfully into the half-healed wound. At that very moment Chutzpah leapt, launching himself at the navy man holding the upraised sliver.
She was just about to regain her feet when she saw the man shoot. She couldn’t see where he was aiming. She didn’t think it was her way, and yet, the next instant, with an enormous wrench and a rushing sound in her ears, everything faded to black.
֍
Mahra slowly struggled toward consciousness. Blearily she opened her eyes vaguely focusing on the concerned faces of Pellis and Sind bending over her. She recognised, at least, that she was lying on her bunk in The Dark Falcon, but of anything else she was unsure. Her head throbbed, and there was something else that didn't seem right. With a massive effort, she tried to bring her eyes to focus properly, but their faces kept skipping backward into lines and tangents that flickered off around their heads.
She remembered that they had arranged a cargo haul and were relaxing in a portside bar. Then after that ....
The last thing she remembered was seeing the knife stuck in her leg, then the man pulling the trigger, then ... nothing. Everything blanked out. Maybe he had shot her, but she didn't feel like she had any other wounds. She had to have been hit from behind. Carefully, she lifted her hand and felt her skull, gingerly applying pressure. There didn't seemed to be any bruising. So, what exactly had happened to bring her down like that?
The Jump Point Page 21