Retribution Required

by C. R. Daems

  "You murdered him," a large bearded man shouted from across the room as he and three other men rose and came striding toward me. I couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't another plot to avoid paying for the Velvet.

  "Hey, bitch. You think you can kill all four of us before one of us kills you?" shouted the bearded man who was the tallest of the foursome. His square scarred face had been in lots of fights. The man next to him had a wiry build and looked to be trouble, with a Mfw strapped to each thigh and a laser at his waist. The shortest man of the group had an evil expression. The fourth man looked like he would like to run but was trapped in the situation.

  "Guess we are going to find out," I said. Shadi, I projected a picture of the two men on the right—Mr. Evil and Mr. Rather-be-somewhere-else—danger. Shadi's muscles rippled as she prepared to move. The three stopped five paces from me. They each had a patch with a red devil's head and Devil's Sons written underneath. The same patch the dead man had on his jacket.

  "You could live if you compensate us for killing Viktor..." The gunfighter said. He was looking to distract me as my Mfw was pointing at his chest. Eventually, Mr. Square face caught on, or they had used this routine before, and reached for his Mfw. I shot Mr. Gunfighter in his right shoulder and I swiveled my weapon left to shoot Mr. Square face in the head, and then back in time to put a burst of pellets in Mr. Gunfighter's chest as his left Mfw cleared the holster. I continued to move my weapon to my right to where Mr. Evil and Mr. Wannabe had stood. Mr. Evil lay at Mr. Wannabe's feet, spurting blood from his neck. Mr. Wannabe stood frozen, looking down at Shadi who sat looking up at him.

  Shadi, to me, I thought and she turned and padded over to me, rubbing her face against my thigh. "If you come back with anyone, you and he or she will die," I said just before a shotgun exploded and water rained down from the ceiling. When I looked in the direction of the shot, I saw a muscular woman standing at the top of a stairway in an open nightgown. Everywhere flesh showed—stomach, arms, and legs—was filled with tattoos. She had a shotgun in one hand and a Mfw in the other. Since they weren't pointing at me, I looked up at the dripping ceiling and saw a bunch of shredded balloons.

  "Enough. Four men against one woman was a fair fight, so the entertainment is over." She scanned the room. "Deon, get this mess cleaned up. Spacer, up here," she shouted, and walked back through a door into what looked to be an office. I climbed the stairs and entered the open door. "Sorry, I was entertaining a friend or that would never have happened." She nodded to a partially open door where a man was pulling on his pants. "You have a package for me?" she asked while scanning me from head to foot. Just then the man exited the room and left. I walked into the room, which had an unmade bed, undressed enough to get the Velvet from the container, walked back into the room, and handed the package to her. She hefted it in one hand, gaging the weight. "That was almost a disaster. Had those morons gotten hold of you, they would have found the Velvet. They would have been rich and I would have been hurting. Give me your chip," she said and sat worrying her lip. When I did she typed on her tablet and then handed it back to me. "Ma Wolford pays her debts. And anything you want to eat or drink is on the house anytime you stop at the Iron Horse Watering Hole." She smiled. "Oh, next time warn me you are coming. We can avoid the mess."

  * * *

  In the skimmer I sat back, trying to calm my nerves. Ma Wolford was right. That was almost a disaster but, as hard as I thought over the sequence of events, I couldn't think of what I could have done to avoid it. And although I won, it could have gone either way. Their overconfidence had been their undoing—they had gotten too close, which meant they were bunched together and within Shadi's easy reach. When I looked, Wolford had deposited twenty-five thousand credits into my account. It appeared disasters were lucrative—if you survived.

  I must have slept—when I opened my eyes it was dark and the skimmer was losing altitude for a landing. Looking out the window, Mr Stanfield lived far into the foothills. His sprawling one-story estate sat on a ridge within several kilometers of a mountain range. The taxi must have been in touch with the estate because two men were there to meet the skimmer when it landed.

  "You Miss Zenaida?" the older of the two security guards asked as I exited. I nodded as Shadi flowed from the taxi. "Mr. Stanfield is waiting in the main building." He pointed toward the building and waved for me to follow. The other man indicated to my driver to follow him. As we got closer, what looked like one large sprawling building was really several buildings connected by an enclosed walkway. My guard led me to the largest building, while the other guard led my driver to a smaller one. I wondered if Stanfield expected me to stay the night or was just insuring I didn't leave without his permission. I silently hoped this wasn't going to be another disaster. I felt worn out and my mind cluttered with too many anomalies. The layout inside felt peaceful as the rooms and connecting hallways were all open and curved—there were no doors or square or rectangular spaces. One room appeared to flow into another, but each was private, partially blocked by the curving hallways and walls. After leaving the foyer, I was led up several steps to a raised hallway that curved around a large sunken room where a tall athletic man stood waiting. He was dressed casually in slacks, a turtleneck white sweater, and moccasin-like slippers. His angular face was smooth and framed with ear-length dark brown hair. He looked relaxed, friendly, but with a Jere Sigler air about him—dangerous.

  "Come join me, Zenaida," he said, indicating the steps that led into the room. "And I guess this is your companion. She's beautiful. What would you like to drink?"

  "It's been a long and tiring day, Mr. Stanfield. Something hot and nonalcoholic," I said, looking around the room. It was comfortable, with no dead animal heads on the walls or excessive knick knacks on the tables or in glass cases. Two couches separated by three small tables sat in front of a large stone fireplace with several logs burning. The room was large and had two recliners with a small table next to each near a wall with a built-in bookcase. Several floor to ceiling windows looked out onto the mountains. I was surprised he hadn't insisted I remove my weapons. Of course, two guards stood inconspicuously off to the side on the raised walkway.

  "Alonso, something hot, nonalcoholic, and relaxing for Miss Zenaida.

  "Zen, please," I said reflexively.

  "Richard," he said and waved for me to sit. "You were a bit vague about why you wanted to meet."

  "Shadi." I nodded to my feet where she lay, "had a litter of three cubs. Before my father and I could take them back to Tanzan, someone killed him and stole the litter. That was almost three years ago." I paused, awaiting his reaction, and was surprised when he said nothing. "After settling my father's affairs, I have been searching for the cubs and the man or men who were involved." I noticed his security had suddenly become more alert and I thought one had called for backup.

  "And have you been successful?" Stanfield asked, almost as if the story didn't apply to him or he had the resources to make the problem go away.

  "Yes and no. I believe the Black Hand was involved but I have no proof or names. But that can wait. The cubs are my first priority."

  "And you believe I have one of your cubs?" he asked, frowning for the first time. "And if I do?" His eyes went to his bodyguards for a brief second.

  "Richard, had the cubs not been stolen I would have taken them back to Tanzan and let Shadi teach them how to survive. Today, however, they are too old to learn to survive on their own. Consequently, it's my responsibility to see they are well cared for."

  He nodded. "And what have you found?"

  "The cub on Toodyay was treated like Shadi—a trusted companion. I let the owner keep her. Although I had the right, it would have been cruel for me to take her away. The cub on Sidon had been mistreated and driven insane...I killed him.”

  "And the owner on Sidon?" He leaned toward me.

  "He was stupid and ignorant but he didn't steal him or pay to have him stolen or was intentionally cruel... I was satisfied re
leasing the cub from its torment."

  "So you want to know if Shadi's cub is being treated humanely. Fair enough." He nodded to Alonso who set a tray of some steaming drink and a small plate of snacks on the table in front of me. "You will have to wait a day or two. Tiri is off in the mountains playing, or hunting, or mating, or whatever she does when she runs off. She's been gone three days so I expect her in a day or two. And I'd be happy to have you as a guest while we wait." He smiled, probably at my dumfounded expression. I had been expecting trouble of some kind or another but not what appeared a good outcome.

  "Thank you, I would appreciate being your guest."

  * * *

  I agreed to have my skimmer taxi sent back to Sun Valley City, since Stanfield offered me a ride back after Tiri returned. Stanfield provided me with a room with a king-size bed, tables on either side of the bed with lamps, a TV and Internet connection, lounge chair, and large chest to store clothes. The bedroom had its own bathroom suite. It was seldom that I got to bathe in a bathtub and I lay there until my skin turned pink. The next day I ate with Stanfield, all three meals. He was an entertaining individual and we shared stories of our lives. He was particularly interested in snow leopards and Tanzan.

  Tiri returned just before sunset. She must have had her own entrance because she entered the living room where Richard and I sat, bounding over the hallway railing, into the room, and flew to where Shadi and I were sitting. Stanfield was shocked and rocketed to his feet until he saw Tiri bouncing between Shadi and me.

  "I'm jealous," Richard said and laughed. "She didn't give me even a look." But at the sound of his voice, Tiri launched herself into his arms, knocking him back onto the couch.

  "Cubs form a mental bond with their mothers at birth. Tiri knew Shadi was here miles from the house," I said, watching the affection he had for Tiri and her obvious joy of being with him. "Thank you, Richard, for putting me up and understanding I needed to see her. I'm satisfied Tiri is being well treated. Actually, she probably has a better life here than on Tanzan."

  "I'm surprised you didn't ask for money. It's clear you would have a legal right to the cubs," he said, cocking his head slightly for my answer.

  "For me, snow leopards aren't pets to be bred and sold. They are family. I'm a merchant who lives in a starship. Consequently, I couldn't care for them as well as you or the man on Toodyay, and I can't return them to Tanzan as they are too old to survive on their own."

  "You're a rare merchant, Zen, and welcome to come visit anytime and to stay for as long as you want."

  The next morning, he had one of his staff fly me back to Sun Valley City.

  * * *

  When I entered the Tykhe, Shadi again wandered the ship, appearing to be searching for something. I had the feeling she had detected a faint scent, probably leakage from a container, but not enough to identify. I hoped that meant the cameras would have caught the intruder and the mystery would be solved.

  On the Flight Deck I logged on to the system using my password and an eye scan and activated the download from the cameras. Camera one showed two ghost-like figures entering through the main door. The pictures were somewhat fuzzy as I hadn't wanted to use any kind of flash which could alert the intruders. They were using helmet lights attached to their hazmat-like suits, explaining why Shadi couldn't detect their presence. What she had detected could have been leakage or some outside contaminant brought in on their suits.

  Camera two showed one of the men walking to the control panel and activating it. I stood watching in shock. How had they learned the password and circumvented the eye scan? I ran the picture multiple times in disbelief. Then I moved on to camera three in the missile room. Then it clicked in place what I had been struggling to remember. Before I had joined my father, he had two of our standard Rogue-6a missiles modified. Half of the standard rocket fuel was removed and a cylinder inserted. He had shown me how to open the missile from the control panel. It had been a distant memory. He had only shown it to me once and I can't remember ever using that storage compartment. The pictures showed both had been opened and objects taken out and a new one inserted.

  "The bastards," I screamed. They were using my ship to smuggle what only the space gods knew. What a sweet deal—free no-risk smuggling. If customs discovered whatever they were smuggling, they would lose the contraband but I would go to jail.

  Next I examined the special program I had inserted to capture any keystrokes someone typed using the control panel. At the time I didn't think it possible but I felt desperate and grasping at straws. The keystrokes showed the intruder used a password I had never seen. I closed down the system and then tried the foreign password—it worked. Everything clicked into place. Everything.

  Father had invited one or more members of the Black Hand back to the ship on the pretext of selling Shadi's cubs. Pretext, because he had no intention of selling the cubs but rather of selling his services. So when they arrived he showed them his secret missile storage compartment. They had loved the idea and could see all the potential opportunities it presented. They could smuggle things that would normally get you hung, with no risk—to them. Somehow they got my father to set up an alternative password that avoided the required retina scan. The police said my father hadn't been tortured but I thought it wouldn't be hard for people with no scruples or decency. If they had threatened my life or kidnapping and selling me into slavery or... And that explains why they didn't try to steal the Tykhe or kidnap me. They wanted him dead and me alive. In an emergency, they could use someone like Mahavir to entice me to deliver a package of no consequence at a premium—one hundred thousand to deliver a sealed package. Mahavir had to know something wasn't right. The question was whether he was part of the Black Hand, one of their intermediates, or a patsy like me? For sure he didn't warn me.

  I rose and went to the galley where I retrieved a beer and sat thinking. I had resolved the mystery but now what? As much as I wanted to delete their access I couldn't without making an enemy of the Black Hand. Not a good idea for a woman operating alone in the Rim. I could imagine losing the Tykhe, Shadi killed for her pelt, and me sold into some slave-like prostitution ring. I sat shaking for a long time at the thought. But I also couldn't...wouldn't do nothing. Retribution was required.

  I jumped up suddenly, rushed to the Flight Deck, and located, with help from the captured keystrokes, the program that activated the release mechanism on the modified missiles. Then I ran down to the missile compartment and pulled out four gas containers. I didn't recognize the writing but I did recognize the skull and cross bones as something that shouldn't be on my ship or in my possession or associated with my name. I had a magnitude ten headache on the Richter scale and my head felt ready to explode.

  For a moment I wondered if Kraig were part of the operation. He was, after all, paying me a premium to tour the Far Rim. But if he were, Mahavir wouldn't have had to offer me money to go to Tyrus. I would have gone there eventually for Kraig. I put the containers back after taking a picture of one of the container's labels, set an alarm on the front entrance which couldn't be bypassed from outside the ship, and went to bed.

  * * *

  I sat eating breakfast when Kraig arrived. He looked tired as he walked up the ramp. Before he could undo his bag or weapons, I unlocked the inner door.

  "Kraig, I'm in the galley, join me," I said, and had to smile at the surprised look on his face. A minute later he entered the galley, poured a cup of coffee, and sat down across from me.

  "Am I to assume that means you had a really bad week?" He didn't smile and even looked concerned. I clicked on the file containing the picture of the label on the cylinder and slid it across to table to him. He used his fingers to enlarge the picture. His facial muscles were hard and his eyes cold when he looked up. "I assume this was attached to a cylinder?"

  "Four," I said, watching him. I could be wrong and he was involved. "Hidden on the Tykhe when I returned," I said. He closed his eyes and was quiet for a long time.

>   "So you don't know where they are to be delivered," he said, eyes still closed.

  "I know exactly--Tyrus."

  "How."

  "On Sidon, I was paid far too much to deliver a sealed package to Tyrus.

  "Paid too much... Oh, a sealed package is not your responsibility and is therefore normal freight unless it's priority delivery, which it wasn't," he said and saw me nod. "The Black Hand?"

  "I think so. I went on to explain my theory about why my father was killed and why they didn't steal the Tykhe or kidnap me. I did however give the impression that the Black Hand had substituted the fake missiles for the real ones.

  "Clever. They are using you to smuggle illegal contraband for them at no cost." He gave a small snort and then frowned. "How did you discover their hiding place?"

  "Remember I said I thought someone had entered the Tykhe?" When he nodded, I continued. "Well, I rigged up several cameras that would be activated if someone entered the Tykhe and inserted software to capture any keystrokes if they somehow used the control panel. I came around the table, leaned over him, and typed the command to display the pictures.

  "Can I see the containers?" he asked. I nodded and waved for him to follow me. I just hoped I was right about Kraig and he was who he said and could be trusted. When the rewards were high many a good guy turned bad. Or, conversely, decide I was as bad as the Black Hand and turn on me at some point. I felt another cruiser-size headache coming on.

  On the Flight Deck I activated the control panel, located the application that opened the missiles, and clicked on it. Then I led him to the missile compartment and showed him the two missiles. He reached in and pulled out one of the containers and studied it for several minutes.

  "Unless I'm wrong, you have just established a strong connection between the Black Hand and the Raiders. This is the biological gas that has been used by the Raiders on each of their three raids. This gas is not only deadly but it hangs around in the area for days. So they drop the gas, then land, protected by suits. Everyone in the area and anyone entering to help dies. It's the reason AIA is desperate to find and destroy them." He stood looking at the cylinder in silence. "You can't let them have these," he said, turning to stare at me as his hand came to rest on the Mfw I had let him keep on. Shadi on guard, I thought with an image of Kraig, in anticipation of what was to come. He was concerned about the Central systems but I was concerned about me. Not delivering would put me number one on the Black Hand's most Wanted Dead or Alive list with a price tag that would have my friends hunting me.