Traitor Winds - Kestrel Saga: Vol. 0 (Kestrel Saga - Origins)

by Stephen A. Fender

  Angelika turned in time to see Captain Faroni swallow hard. He coughed, clearing his throat, then nodded his head slowly.

  “Open the channel, Lieutenant.”

  A moment later, Ortman’s came back through the speakers. “Freighter Manamara, you are cleared to proceeded to the planet Torval. Follow your present course precisely. Upon arrival at the planet, you will land at Pad Six, Salias logistics station. From there, your cargo and passengers will be offloaded. You will then depart the system using a reverse of your current vector. Is that understood?”

  There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone on the command deck. Captain Faroni placed his weapon back under his seat, and Angelika switched the safety back on her pistol.

  “Understood, Valkor.”

  Without further fanfare, Angelika and the crew of the Manamara watched as the Valkor and her counterpart slowly picked up speed and slipped from their field of view.

  “Engage the engines at three-quarters speed. Let’s get to Torval as quickly and discreetly as possible. I don’t want to raise any more suspicions.”

  The first officer nodded from the helm console. “Aye, Captain.”

  Much to the relief of the crew, the remainder of the two-hour trip to Torval was uneventful. Angelika watched as the tan, desert-like world filled the forward view port. Within minutes of achieving orbit, the freighter was cleared to transit to the surface. Slipping through the planet’s atmosphere, Angelika was pleasantly surprised by the lack of turbulence in the air as the Manamara descended toward the capitol city of Salias.

  Laid out in a grid pattern, the city sprawled across some fifteen thousand square miles. Save for the downtown area, most of the structures were less than four stories tall, and looked to be made out of the same concrete and alumaweld material used by the Unified government to construct temporary structures during humanitarian operations. In the center of town, however, the construction of the buildings quickly transitioned into more stable materials. This was undoubtedly where the seat of power for the planet was, as well as where the major financial district was located.

  The Salias logistics depot, a tall, tube-shaped building, had semi-circular landing pads built like shelves off the side of the structure. They were present from the third story line all the way up to the building’s pinnacle, which stretched a thousand feet above ground level. The Manamara’s helmsman performed a textbook landing on Pad Six, which was located on the level of the same number. As soon as the ship was powered down, the gravity and environment controls were stabilized, and the captain ordered that the cargo ramp be extended.

  Angelika returned to Captain Faroni’s side. “Thanks for the lift.”

  Faroni managed a weak smile. “Don’t mention it. Take care of yourself out there, Agent Jordan. Salias can be a rough place if you get caught in the wrong district after dark.”

  Angelika placed a gentle hand on the captain’s shoulder, mindful to stay clear the toxin-tipped quills on his spine. “I’ll mind my location, Captain. Don’t worry.”

  The captain smiled and cupped her hand in his three fingers. “I’m sure you will. Now, let’s get this equipment offloaded as quickly as possible so you can get on with your mission.”

  Chapter 7

  Angelika watched from a discreet distance as the Manamara’s six landing struts lifted from the landing platform. As it did so, the small freighter pushed up a cloud of loose dust that had been lying dormant. It seemed to coat her skin, and it left a lingering metallic taste on her lips as she attempted to lick it away. When the ship had fully cleared the building, it rocketed back out of the Torvolian atmosphere, leaving Angelika alone on the planet to complete her task of locating Toyotomi Katashi.

  Off in the distance, far beyond the skyline of Salias, the twin suns of the Concordia system were nearing the craggy mountains that defined the western edge of the continent. Beyond their rim, stretching for thousands of miles, was nothing but barren wasteland. Once, hundreds of thousands of years ago, it had been a near-endless ocean teaming with life. A gravitational shift had since dissipated that beauty, leaving nothing but fine particulates of sand and bones that had long since turned to dust. It was, however, rich in minerals that were just ripe for the picking. A treasure trove for the local mining consortium, it was utterly useless for anything else.

  As the winds began to pick up, Angelika found herself clutching at the paltry vest she’d chosen to cover herself in. When her blonde locks began to whip around her face mercilessly, Angelika took a deep breath and turned toward the solitary door that led into the Salias logistic administrative hub.

  The lift to the complex’s administrative offices had been speedy. In no time, she found herself face to face, albeit separated by two-inch-thick transparent glassiminum, with a gruff-looking Alturian. It was difficult to tell whether the being was male or female, with the only hint to the gender being the copious amounts of jewelry that studded the multiple green, sagging layers of skin that covered its face. Something that looked like a cigarette dangled from one of the folds that doubled as one of the alien’s mouths, while another opening—to the right of the first—spoke to the Angelika in a guttural, almost choking sound.

  “So, you looking for work, I hear?”

  “I am,” Angelika said with a nod. “I was told that by a friend that—”

  “Never you mind what you was told or who did the tellin’. If it didn’t come from me, then it ain’t nothin’. And being that I don’t remember talkin’ to you, it ain’t nothin’.”

  The woman, if that’s what it was, seemed to enjoy her grasp of power in the conversation. The defiant streak in Angelika wanted to argue with her, if only to point out her obvious lack of customer service skills. But, being that this Alturian was the one person solely responsible for dispersing prospective job assignments, Angelika thought better of it and held her opinions in check.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Good,” the woman barked. “Now, let’s just look at these references of yours.” The woman’s orange eyes darted to her computer screen, which was turned at just the right angle to be out of Angelika’s field of view. After several series of grunts, Angelika was beginning to wonder if the woman was digesting the information before her, or if she was merely clearing her expansive throat.

  “You got some good marks here,” the woman croaked while still looking at the screen. “Best I seen in a long time.”

  “Then you have work for me?”

  This caused the woman’s attention to shift from the screen, and her gaze at Angelika could have burned a hole through the transparent partition. “I got work when I say I got work, missy.”

  Angelika shifted her eyes, hoping that the show of submissiveness would alleviate the alien’s aggressions. It seemed to do the trick.

  “I ain’t got nothin’ in the way of mining right now. Every plot is full, and all the teams are fully staffed.”

  “But I’ve come such a long way,” Angelika pleaded with her best puppy dog eyes as she leaned in closer to the glass. “I have to work.”

  With lighting reflexes, the toad-like woman swatted the partition with a rolled up stack of papers, causing Angelika to reel back. “Keep clear of the glass, lady! I don’t need none of your Earther germs floating into my office.”

  Angelika shuffled her feet, trying to look helpless. “Yes. I’m sorry.” With perfect training, her eyes began to water as she looked back to the woman. “I just…I just have to have a job. I just got out of Unified detention for stealing food…and I can’t go home. See, I was thrown out and—”

  “Oh, by the Four Pillars of Gronkor! If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s when you Earthers come here whining with your faces leaking all over my floor.” The alien sneered, then let out a series of grunts before speaking again. “I said I got no mining work open. I didn’t say I got no work open at all. There’s an openin’ at the Shaft’s End.”

  “The Shaft’s End?”

  “Yeah. It’s a bar
down on Dektar Street. Bad food, bad customers, lousy service…typical lowlife dive. They need a new waitress.”

  “A waitress?”

  “You got a hearing problem, lady? Stop repeatin’ my words, or you can pack your crap and get off my planet. You want it or not? Or is it too much for a princess like you to handle?”

  “No. No, I’ll take it.”

  “Yeah, I thought you might. Go down there and see a guy named Skip. He’s an Earther like you, which means he’s as ugly as all get out. Ya can’t miss him.” A slip of transparent material ejected out of a slot on the wall next to the glass partition. “Take that to him. He’ll get you all straightened up.”

  “What about all my equipment?” Angelika asked as she retrieved the work request form.

  “Do I got to tell you everything? There’s a storage depot two blocks north of here. The first day is free, but after that, they charge ya. One missed payment and they auction off your stuff. And trust me on this, there ain’t no shortage of buyers for the kind of pricy equipment you got. In fact, you may wanna think about selling some of it if you need extra money to get a place to stay.”

  “Thanks. I might do that.” Although she had access to enough funds to purchase her own equipment three times over, it wasn’t necessary to look any less handicapped than she needed to be.

  “Whatever. It ain’t my problem. I got more important things to do. Go get to work before I give the job to someone else.”

  “Y—yes,” Angelika stammered. “I’ll do that.” Out in the corridor, she breathed a sigh of relief. Had she been unable to find employment, her cover might have easily been blown. Angelika looked once again to the plastic strip and shook her head. Waitress. What have I gotten myself into? She headed for the nearest lift, eager to get her mining equipment stored before some unscrupulous pirate made off with it.

  * * *

  The Shaft’s End was every bit as seedy as the Alturian at the employment agency had described. Situated on the corner of a dark intersection, the exterior left much to be desired. The façade was a deteriorating mix of contemporary, bull-nosed architecture with more than a hint of shantytown. There was a large picture window with a neon sign of a half-naked woman, her animatronic arm beckoning passersby into the decrepit and unwelcoming varicolored structure.

  Inside the establishment, the décor was little better. A large, circular bar top dominated the center of the expansive compartment. A winding staircase led to a seating area above the bar, itself encircled with a glowing blue-white bannister, and topped with a corrugated roof meant purely for decoration. Angelika could see several large-screen monitors suspended above the second floor patrons, showing everything from local news broadcasts to sporting events, some of which she could barely comprehend the meaning behind. On the first floor, the central bar was sparsely populated, with many of the customers choosing to sit and talk—which sounded more like heated arguments—at any of the two dozen tables set far away from the center of the room. Behind the bar, an antiquated droid bartender with a single glowing red eye shuffled about as it attended to the few people placing orders.

  As she walked up to the droid, it seemed to take notice of her. It scrutinized her for a moment longer than was comfortable, its lens-like eye zooming in and out as it tried to get a better focus on her, then withdrew two drinks from an unseen slot and scampered away to deliver them to a pair of winged Theslandians a few stools down from Angelika. The two creatures, vaguely appearing like bipedal pterodactyls from First Earths late Triassic period, squawked and chortled as they were handed their frothing yellow drinks. Theslandia, once a peaceful world of pacifists decades ago, had since become a major supplier of jump drive cores to the Kafaran Alliance—and someone Sector Command would surely have to deal with at some point. Angelika silently hoped that the now hotheaded species, who had a history of contemptuous interactions with humanoids, didn’t take note of her presence.

  The robotic barkeep sped away from the creatures as quickly as it’d arrived, and was again scrutinizing Angelika with its conduit-encrusted face. It released a string of sounds, none of which were familiar to the OSI agent trained in multiple languages.

  “Galactic standard,” she said, knowing that such a phrase was designed to trigger a droid’s auditory sub-processor.

  The robot’s head jerked momentarily from side to side as it reset its vocal computer. “What can I get you to drink?” the synthetic male voice asked a second later.

  “Ectarian dark water,” she replied.

  With little fanfare, the robot produced the requested refreshment; a tea-like nonalcoholic beverage known for its rejuvenating properties.

  “Can I get you something to eat?” the bartender asked. “We have many delicious specials this evening. The Doxious slugs are particularly juicy tonight.”

  Angelika had to stop herself from choking at the thought of the dish, which she knew was composed of large, snail-like creatures, still living, that were more interested in leaving their excrement on your plate than being eaten.

  “Please, no thank you. I’m looking for Skip.”

  “Flip? I’m sorry, but I don’t know that dish. Perhaps some Falasian eel pasta?”

  An image more revolting than that of the Doxious slugs flashed in her mind and she involuntarily winced. “I said Skip, not flip. And it’s a person, not a dish.”

  The orb-like eye seemed to blink. “We do not serve live people here. You will have better luck trying the fresh market near downtown.”

  Angelika rubbed her face in frustration, then realized the futility of her inquiry. She withdrew the translucent job strip and held it an inch from the glowing eye. The bartender seemed to scan the object, then craned its head around the bar in a rapid succession of movements.

  “The proprietor is in the back room. I will notify him of your presence.” And with that, the droid wandered off to attend a quartet of frog-like Alturians, strikingly similar to the surly woman at the employment agency, who had ambled in and folded themselves into a booth that was barely able to manage their bulk.

  As Angelika continued to sip at her drink, she took a casual look around the bar patrons, wondering if any of them would pose a future threat to her operations here. It was then that a soothing voice emanated from behind her.

  “I understand you are here to see me?”

  Angelika pivoted in her stool to see a man standing behind her. He was humanoid, and looked to be in his early thirties. On his face was a well-defined beard, cut thin, that accentuated his angular jawline. He looked at her with eyes that showed an Asian influence in his ancestry.

  “Yes?” she said, maintaining her false persona.

  “My name is Skip Tanner,” he said as he outstretched his hand in greeting. “I am the owner of this establishment.”

  Angelika took the soft, yet firm hand in a gentle shake. “Pleased to meet you. I understand you have work for me?”

  He nodded slowly, then his eyes darted about the room. “Perhaps it would be more beneficial to our future arrangement if we met in more…discreet surroundings?”

  “Of course.”

  With that agreement, she stood and followed Skip to through a heavy metal door at the rear of the bar. It seemed they had entered his personal office. There were open ledgers splayed on a wooden desk and several shelves full of them on the far left wall. She took an empty seat opposite his desk, and she watched with intent as the senior field agent sat down. His eyes seemed to bore into her, and he said nothing as he withdrew a small, tubular device from his desk drawer. Angelika recognized it instantly as a standard field-issued scrambling device.

  Twisting the device until it let out a high-pitched auditory whine, he then placed it on the desktop between them. “We may now speak without subterfuge, Agent Jordan.”

  Katashi. Toyotomi Katashi. Through the makeup, she’d hardly recognized him. Taken aback by the ease with which Katashi had located her, Angelika was finding it difficult to figure out where to begin. She decided t
o start with the basics. “I was sent by—”

  “I’m aware of why you are here, Agent Jordan,” Toyotomi said with a disarming smile. “You are here to be my new waitress.”

  Angelika smirked. “That’s not precisely what I was getting at.”

  Katashi shrugged. “It’s all the same. You are here because I wanted you here.”

  Angelika cocked her head in suspicion. “You set this up with the Salias employment agency?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” he shrugged. “I simply made it known to them that I was looking for someone to work for me, while simultaneously making sure that all other open positions on the planet appeared filled. It was a quick way to funnel you to my…establishment. Rest assured, no one else will be coming for an interview, and all previously closed positions on Torval are now reopened.”

  “You hacked into their computer system?” Her tone carried disbelief.

  “Come now, Miss Jordan,” he said with another wide smile. “Hacked is such an upsetting term. It implies I did something illegal. All I did was plant a…suggestion…into the agency’s mainframe. Not an insurmountable task for someone of our profession and skill levels.”

  “I’m pretty fair with computers, but not that savvy. Speaking of which, why on Third Earth did you request me for this assignment? I mean, after what happened to your team, you could have easily hopped on a transport and made it safely back into Unified-controlled space.”

  “I could not, Agent Jordan.”

  “And why was that?”

  “To answer the second part of your question, this planet is home to some of the most sophisticated listening stations in the quadrant…and it’s neutral. I could perform any level of surveillance I wished, up to and including ones of questionable legality—something even the OSI has issues with at times.” Katashi’s tone then changed to one of contempt. “There was simply no better place than Torval to keep an eye on the traitor Krador and his…legion of minions. To answer the first part of your question, I have been a student of your career for some time. To say that I am impressed would be a vast understatement. Of all the OSI agents at my disposal, you are the most qualified, and the best trained in what we need to accomplish. I requested you because I believe that by working together, only you and I will be able to stop this terrorist.”