by C. R. Daems
RETRIBUTION REQUIRED
By
C. R. Daems
Retribution Required
Copyright © 2018 by C. R. Daems
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from C. R. Daems.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9983251-3-2
ISBN-10: 0-9983251-3-9
Check out all my novels at:
crdaems.com & talonnovels.com
CHAPTER ONE
Star System: Vayk
CHAPTER TWO
Star System: Plata
CHAPTER THREE
Star System: Bijapur
CHAPTER FOUR
Star System: Toodyay
CHAPTER FIVE
Star System: Sidon
CHAPTER SIX
Star System: Hohhot
CHAPTER SEVEN
Star System: Dacca
CHAPTER EIGHT
Star System: Lietzow
CHAPTER NINE
Star System: Vereya via Tyrus
CHAPTER TEN
Star System: Somewhere in Central systems Space
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Star System: Vayk
CHAPTER TWELVE
Star System: Tyrus
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Star System: Lietzow
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Star System: Samxor
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Star System: Sidon
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Star System: Tyrus
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Star System: Dacca
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Star System: Tashir
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Star System: Bijapur
CHAPTER TWENTY
Star System: Dacca
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Star System: Lietzow
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Star System: Somewhere is Dacca space.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Star System: Saket
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Star System: Dacca
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Star System: Divona
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Star System: Dacca
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Star System: Dacca - Moons of Motif
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Star System: Tanzan
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Star System: Poona
CHAPTER THIRTY
Star System: Visits to Bijapur, Toodyay, Tashir, and Sidon
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Star System: Dacca
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Star System: Plata
CHAPTER THRTY-THREE
Star System: Samxor
CHAPTER THRTY-FOUR
Star System: Samxor – The Hunter
CHAPTER THRTY-FIVE
Star System: Samxor
CHAPTER ONE
Star System: Vayk
It was late and the spaceport deserted by the time I had parked and secured the Tykhe, a small StingRay class passenger/merchant spacecraft, and cleared customs. The area was bathed in shadows cast by lights leaking through partially lit maintenance and repair building windows. An eerie quiet pervaded the area as I strode past the buildings. My soft leather boots as silent as Shadi, my snow leopard companion who ghosted beside me like a shadow. When I reached the spaceport administration building, two taxis were waiting—one automated and one with a human driver who looked asleep. I banged on the driver's window, preferring to appear new to the city. He jerked awake, his eyes only partially open, and smiled as he rolled down the window. Judging by his worn clothes and the aging ground-vehicle, the taxi business wasn't good.
"Sir…Spacer," he revised after rubbing his eyes and blinking several times. The light wasn't good and his eyes still hadn't adjusted from sleep. "Where would you like to go?"
"The Longhorn," I said. He frowned and gave me an appraising look before speaking.
"That place can be a bit rough at times. And it's close to the seedier side of the city. I can recommend—" He stopped when I shook my head. I opened the back door and in one smooth leap Shadi landed on the seat near the opposite door and curled into a ball.
"What the hell was that!" he shouted, wide awake now. His voice rising several octaves as his expression went from surprise to fear.
"Your second passenger," I said as I slipped into the seat and closed the door. He muttered in some language and nervously peeked over his shoulder while maneuvering the vehicle into the street. When nothing bad happened over the next few minutes he seemed to relax, with only an occasional peek in the rearview mirror.
"Six standard credits," he said when he stopped in front of a building which appeared to have been constructed from logs and had what looked like the skull of a Texas longhorn steer hanging over the barn-door-looking entrance. I inserted a prepaid chip into his handheld and deposited seven credits. I tended to use prepaid credit chips so my comings and goings couldn't be monitored nor could the funds be traced back to me. I didn't think anyone was watching me but why take chances or make it easy for them if they decided to check at a later time. The Longhorn was alive with activity as I entered: the long wooden bar was filled to capacity, the dance floor had twenty couples whirling to the music, and most of the rustic bench-style tables were full. The wooden beams, sawdust on the floors, and the people with their jeans and wide skirts gave the place the feel of the old west on Earth. I chuckled to myself. Vayk was one of the Rim systems and considered less civilized by the people of the Central Systems for their tendency to hang on to the ancient past.
As I stood looking around, a man wearing jeans, cowboy boots and hat, and a gun belt and holster with an old-fashioned revolver approached me. He was shaking his head.
"Spacer, pets aren't allowed," he said, surveying the two-meter forty-five-kilogram snow leopard sitting by my right side. He stopped a good three steps away and edged to my left.
"I hope you aren't planning on telling my companion she can't join me." I narrowed my eyes into a sad face and shook my head slowly. Just then Shadi yawned and her five-centimeter canine teeth were exposed. His open mouth stare went from the cat to the multi-functional weapon, Mfw, strapped to my side. I smiled, noting the volume of noise in the room had been cut in half and many were staring in our direction.
"Would a table against the wall be acceptable?" he asked, having decided discretion was the wisest course of action. A few minutes after having been seated a young woman in a wide skirt, ruffled shirt, and fringed cowboy boots appeared.
"Howdy, I'm Susie. That's a big cat but she sure is beautiful. What can I get for you?" she asked, barely able to pull her gaze away from Shadi, who sat calmly looking up at her.
"Hi, Susie. Give me the house special and my friend a one-pound steak, raw, and cut in two-centimeter chunks. She'll have a bowl of water and I'll have a draft beer," I said while rubbing Shadi's head and neck. She purred in satisfaction. Looking around, I noticed most of the people in the room had resumed whatever they had been doing and the noise had increased to where the walls vibrated from the sound. I scanned the crowd while smiling and tapping my foot like I was enjoying the dancing. Everything looked normal or, at least, no one seemed particularly interested in me—not that they should but I'm naturally cautious. Susie arrived with my dinner not long afterward. She placed my plate and the beer
on the table, then knelt and placed two large bowls on the floor next to Shadi.
"She sure is beautiful," she said and beamed a million-credit smile when Shadi raised a paw to her. Susie took her paw in reverence. She left smiling like she had received a very large tip. I ate slowly, while pretending to be interested in the room's activity. In truth, I was early for my appointment and knew this restaurant wasn't more than two kilometers from my real destination, where I intended to walk to avoid being tracked.
When I exited the restaurant, it was two hours after midnight and the streets deserted, a smart decision in the city's old district. As I strolled down the poorly-lit streets, I noted several small groups loitering in the shadows of buildings or alleyways, which would have been trouble except for Shadi and the very visible multiple functional Bahr Special, with its distinctive red oak gun handles, strapped to my thigh. Two youths made a brief appearance, grinning until Shadi growled with teeth bared. They disappeared back into the shadows—smart decision. Twenty minutes later I saw the soft glow from a window decorated with two partially naked women with ostrich fans. One stood on either side of Club Henrik painted in large gold lettering. Inside, the club appeared empty except for three men: a weasel of a man stood grinning behind the bar, an ugly scar-faced man stood leaning on the bar counter, nursing a beer, and a younger third man sat at a table some ten meters away, grinning. It didn't feel right but I was committed so I continued into the club and made my way to the bar.
"What would you like to drink, Spacer?" the weasel behind the bar asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. I guess he considered me the night's entertainment.
"I'd like whatever you have on draft and let Henrik know his friend Zenaida is here and would like to say hello," I said, ignoring the bar stool which would restrict my movements and make it impossible to keep all three men in sight.
"Sorry, Henrik wasn't feeling good and took off early. He said you could give me the package," the weasel said, smiling. These three were as subtle as an active volcano. I tried to stall while I weighed my limited options.
"Package?" I frowned and shook my head. "I don't have a package for Henrik. He was supposed to have a package for me to take to Tihua for him. You need to call him because I'm scheduled to leave tonight." My window of opportunity was closing with every minute: the grinning man had one hand under the table, which I suspected held a weapon; the weasel was carrying a tall glass of beer, which I was sure was meant for my face; and the ugly looking guy at the bar had his hand on the Mfw strapped to his waist.
Mr. Ugly stepped away from the bar as Mr. Weasel lowered the arm with the glass, preparing to throw it at me. A second before the beer left the glass in my direction, I dove away from the bar while drawing my Mfw, tucked my head before I hit the floor, rolled to a kneeling position, and squeezed off several shots at Mr. Smiley as he began to rise from the table with his gun. The pellets hit him in the chest, propelling him stumbling backward. As I spun toward the bar to take care of Mr. Weasel, I saw Shadi standing on top of Mr. Ugly. He lay still, spurting blood from his neck and chest. Mr. Weasel stood paralyzed with the empty beer glass in his hand. I switched to laser and cut a line across his throat. When I looked back to Shadi, she sat on the man's chest, cleaning her paw. The stink of gunpowder and blood filled the room. As I rose to a standing position, Shadi padded softly to me and rubbed her head against my thigh. I sank my hand into her thick soft fur and scratched, to her delight. Detecting no other threat, I wandered into the hallway, which had several doors. Opening the first door I found a large men's bathroom. Ten men and several women were tied to toilets, urinals, and sinks. Each one had something stuffed in his or her mouth. A chorus of moans and squeaks greeted me. I left them and proceeded down the hallway, opening doors—a woman's bathroom had no one inside, a maintenance closet, and eventually a large office. Henrik sat in the middle of the room, tied to a chair. He was a giant of a man with a full beard currently soaked red with blood. His bulbous nose lay to one side, one eye swollen completely shut, and multiple cuts on his bare chest and arms. I untied him and helped him to the women’s washroom. He roared with obscenities from several systems all the way there and the entire time I spent helping to repair some of the damage.
"Damn, Zen. I wish you hadn't killed them. I've been dreaming about what I was going to do when I caught them," he shouted when we entered the bar room and saw the three dead. He surprised me when he pulled out a handgun and shot each man several times. "Not very satisfying," he muttered. Then he knelt and went through Mr. Ugly's clothing and retrieved a credit chip. "Where do you want your fee deposited? Don't worry, it can't be traced back to me or Club Henrik."
"Tykhe TZ577486," I said as he slipped his chip into a tablet he was carrying and typed in the number. When he looked up, I handed him my backpack. He looked inside, nodded, and pressed Send.
"I've sent five thousand, the other half of the agreed upon price for delivery and an extra five thousand for your trouble."
"Thank you," I said as he went behind the bar, drew two beers, and handed me one. Then waved to a sturdy wooden table with four captain's chairs. "I'd love to know how they found out you were delivering these five jade figures to me." He gave me an enquiring look.
"Had to be whoever you negotiated with to have them delivered to you."
He nodded, eyes downcast in thought for several minutes. Then he shrugged and waved to the dead bodies. "Your father taught you well. I owe you."
"You can do me a favor. Let me know if you hear of anyone who has a snow leopard or has one for sale."
"Sure. I don't know of anyone offhand, but I'll ask around." He downed the last of his beer and then laughed. "I guess I should let those people in the toilets go and call the police to have them," he jerked his head toward the dead men, "removed. I won't mention you, Zen. There won't be an investigation. Three thugs came into the club, assaulted the customers, and attempted to rob me. I killed them." He laughed and pounded the table. "If you are looking for business…talk to Toccara Greco. He owns the Night Owl Club."
* * *
When I left Club Henrik the gray light of dawn filtered through ramshackle buildings and lights were showing in some of the windows as people got ready for work, but the streets were empty. By luck I caught a taxi as I neared the Longhorn.
"Where to?" an elderly man with scraggly gray hair asked, happy to have found a customer in this neighborhood at this early hour.
"The Interspace Customs area," I said as Shadi flowed into the taxi and curled up on the seat. I followed and shut the door. When the cabbie looked back, his eyes wide with surprise, I held up a hand. "Your second passenger."
After a moment his anxiety turned into a smile and he steered into the road. I tipped the cabbie several extra credits, feeling good at having survived the hijacking, getting the five thousand bonus, and the potential for additional work. As I strode toward the Tykhe I couldn't help smiling. The angle of the sun made it look like it was pure gold—and to me it was.
It had an adequate cargo hold, could accommodate eight to ten passengers, and I owned it free and clear. But the euphoria was short lived—I missed my father. Back on the Tykhe, I lay down—it had been a long night and stressful. Just then Shadi landed on the bed and we spent several minutes in a mock fight. A few people, maybe a hundred or so, knew that the rare snow leopards on the planet Tanzan bonded mentally with their cubs, however I might be the only one who knew that the cubs bonded mentally with anyone close when born—not just its mother. I had been present when Shadi and her littermates were born. That bonding provided a mental awareness which, over the years, Shadi and I had evolved into communications close to a verbal language. At Club Henrik, I had sent Shadi the image of the ugly man at the bar and a strong sense of danger—a clear message that he was her responsibility. And the fight response for her to attack as I began to move. Shadi and I were bonded on many levels.
When I woke late that afternoon I used the ship's automatic chef to make a pea
sant stew with a bread pudding for dessert, and a kilogram of raw meat for Shadi. While eating I reminisced about growing up on Tanzan, a mountainous planet with temperatures that averaged between minus five to minus fifty Celsius in the inhabited lowlands and lower in the mountains. Consequently, the residents were in a constant struggle to survive since half the year it was too cold to work outside or grow anything or hunt.
I had been a restless child and from an early age was roaming the mountains, trapping and exploring. By accident, I trapped a snow leopard one day. It took six hours for the leopard and me to cooperate enough that I could help release her. From that time on we shared a cautious relationship and the reason she allowed me to be present when her litter was born and the reason I was permitted to adopt Shadi. Luck or fortune or fate, who knew?
My father was a merchant—smuggler, to be truthful—who believed in luck and omens. Adopting a snow leopard was certainly an omen of good fortune, so when he returned home on one of his periodic visits, he decided I should accompany him and learn the business. Thus at age twelve I became a smuggler and began working the Rim systems—the outback of what was considered the civilized worlds. Two years ago something went wrong. While I was in town negotiating a job my father was killed, the Tykhe robbed, and Shadi's four-month-old litter of three cubs stolen. A police investigation turned up nothing. As Henrik had said--thugs, which included suspected smugglers, didn't warrant an investigation. They had gotten what they deserved. But that didn't apply to family—mine and Shadi's—retribution was required.
* * *
Late that afternoon I made my way to the other side of the city to the Night Owl club. The buildings there were in better shape than those around Club Henrik and the streets looked safer, at least now in the early evening. Inside, the patrons looked like merchants and spacers. As I made my way toward the bar I noticed the tabletops were transparent, with shifting scenes of galaxies, planets, and cities, which could be stopped or rotated at the customers touch. The bar had a similar top except the scenes were spacecraft, civilian and military, moving as if in flight from left to right along the entire length of the bar. On the walls behind the bar were four-by-six-meter scenes of galaxies being created and destroyed—billions of years condensed into a few hours. I took a seat at one end of the bar as an older ACS, Alexandria Coalition of Stars, Shark class light cruiser sped by and disappeared off the end of the bar.