by C. R. Daems
"I have a package for you from Mr. Salgodo, sir," I said, extending the package while still speculating what the package contained.
"Please have a seat while I examine it. There is coffee, water, and an assortment of snacks on the table," he said while returning to his desk. I would imagine if I had been a client, I would have already racked up a several hundred-credit tab. He inspected the package, opened it, and spent several minutes reading its contents, then smiled. He opened a drawer in the desk, exchanged my package for another, and then rose and carried it to where I sat.
"These are the documents Mr. Salgodo needs. He asked me to remind you that while there is no immediate rush he does need these documents within six days."
"Yes, sir. I'll only be on Sidon a couple of days, hoping to find additional cargo," I replied, while translating the exchange—the Black Hand has stored the illegal canisters on the Tykhe so you may return to your ship. Be advised the canisters are needed by the Raiders no later than six days from now or there will be a penalty for late delivery—your ass.
The same young woman was waiting to escort me to the elevators. On the way back to the Tykhe I contemplated the good and bad news. The good news—I had a lead on the supplier of the gas. The bad news—there was no way to avoid delivering the gas to the Raiders. Therefore neither Kraig nor his boss, Colonel Sherman, was going to be happy. Back at the Tykhe I wasn't surprised to find Kraig hadn't returned. I went to bed but slept little as I wrestled with the dichotomy: how to let the Black Hand load the deadly canisters on Sidon but deny the Raiders them without upsetting the Black Hand by failing to deliver them on Tyrus.
* * *
Kraig returned late the following afternoon. "I assume the Black Hand loaded the canisters," he said as he entered the galley and fetched a beer. He looked as disgusted as I felt.
"That's the bad news," I said as he sat glaring at me.
"There's good news?" He frowned.
"I know how they can load the canisters without being noticed and have a lead on their supplier, if not the provider of the gas."
Kraig sat quietly for some time, eyes downcast in thought. "They would have to be authorized in the area and in a vehicle that wouldn't appear out of place," he said almost to himself. Then he looked up.
"The company is Simson & Sons Restoration, Ltd.," I said. "The signage says they clean up after floods, fires, and foreign infestations. They pulled up close to the entrance to the Tykhe, marched in dressed in Hazmat suits, and were out in less than five minutes. They had people watching me and were prepared to have the law firm Tromberg delay me until they had completed inserting the canisters. I verified the new canisters were in the modified missiles when I got back. That implies they were also watching when you left and where you went."
Kraig nodded agreement. "What part do you believe Tromberg plays in all this?"
"Can't be sure. They were cooperating with the Black Hand but they may not be aware who their client is or what they are doing. But I wouldn't doubt at a minimum they handle the money transfers to people and companies like Simon & Sons and are willing to comply with requests like holding a carrier until they call."
"How do we stop the Raiders from getting those canisters?" Kraig's focus was on the Raiders and their weapon of choice.
"We don't and can't. Furthermore, I don't believe that’s our mandate."
"Hundreds will die if we deliver those canisters!" he shouted, rising from his chair and glaring at me.
"You're absolutely right. But that doesn't change the reason Colonel Sherman sent you and me back into the Rim." I shrugged. Kraig continued to glare for a long time, but I could see he was working through the issues. Finally, he sat and finished his beer in two quick gulps.
"That doesn't bother you?"
"I care but those canisters are not the problem." I held up my hand to stop Kraig's knee-jerk response. "The problem is the Raiders. We can stop the deaths by finding the Raiders which, by the way, is our mission. Find the Raiders and the ACS will destroy them. Then there will be no more raids. If we concentrate on the canisters the Black Hand may deduce we are the problem and decide to terminate us. In that case, the Raiders may remain in business for many years."
"Then we are going back to Tyrus and let then take the canisters?"
"I thought I'd stay a day or two on Sidon and see if I can find work—"
"Damn you, Zen. You aren't rich enough already?"
"I thought I'd stay a day or two on Sidon and see if I can find work while you investigate Simon and Sons. Colonel Sherman will want to know if they are the providers or being used as a front." I smiled at Kraig's look of shame.
"Sorry, Zen. I'm out of my mind over the deaths that will result from us delivering those canisters and can't focus. You're right. Our mission is to find the Raiders and those who support them. Delaying the delivery of the canisters won't stop the raids. The raids will continue regardless." He nodded, lips pursed in thought. "You delay our departure while I checkout Simon and Sons."
"I almost forgot. You may want to warn Sherman that they can anticipate a raid within fifteen days."
"How do you know?" Kraig was on his feet again.
"Mr. Tromberg indicated Salgodo needed the package returned in six days at the latest. Since we know the Raiders want the canisters for a raid, I thought they probably have a target identified and a date to leave close to the date Salgodo needed us back on Tyrus. Add to that the time to reach a Central Systems’ planet."
"Good work, Zen. That window may help identify logical targets and allow the ACS to concentrate resources to defend them. If we're lucky they may catch the Raiders when they arrive." Smiling, he raised his beer to me in salute.
* * *
I remember my father once taking me to the Big Top Club for business. It was an exciting place with all sorts of interesting acts. The club, actually a collection of buildings, was said to be reminiscent of circuses back on old-Earth. The club was closed in the morning and only opened in the afternoon to buy tickets and memorabilia. The acts didn't begin until early evening, providing me with a perfect alibi to delay while Kraig investigated Simon & Sons.
I arrived an hour before the first acts were due to begin, having made reservations at the China House Restaurant—one of the six clubs presently active. The entertainment at the China House consisted of men and women of Asian ancestry performing acrobatics and feats of mastery with an assortment of weapons. The feats were performed in conjunction with a story. The current story was about a cruel Prince who kidnapped a farmer's wife and the farmer's efforts to free her—and kill the Prince. I could empathize with the farmer and his quest.
I was halfway through my Mandarin Duck special when a tall athletic man dressed in a red jacket over a silver vest, black pants, and calf length leather boots approached. He had a whip attached to his belt but no other weapon I could see. Of course, he didn't need anything else as the two men following him had Mfws strapped to each thigh, knives in their boots and, I'd wager, lasers inside their black vests.
"Zen, how good to see you. You and Shadi have matured since I last saw you. Quite nicely, I may add," he said as he nodded to the empty chair and sat at my smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Van Stefan. You don't look like you've aged a day."
"Got to stay in shape or the young start to think you are ready to retire and are willing to help." He roared with laughter. "Shadi would make an excellent attraction," he said while cocking his head to admire her.
"Yes, many like to see animals do tricks. I prefer to see them free."
"Yet, isn't Shadi in captivity although treated well?" Van Stefan asked with a slight smirk on this angular face.
"Yes. I admit to putting my wants and needs over hers and being selfish. I was young and she was so beautiful…" I dug my hand into her fur and knew I'd do it again—she was a cherished companion.
"I can relate to that." He laughed again. "Since you don't like animal acts, I assume you are looking for me or work." He paused until I nodded.
"
"Both. Mrs. Wu sent you a small gift."
"Excellent. Come with me back to the office and we can discuss business," he said, rising and waving for me to follow. He stopped for a brief moment at the entrance.
"Miss Zenaida’s dinner, which I'm interrupting, is free, as well as anything she orders over the next few days." He led me to a small one-story building, which appeared to be offices, and into a large room with glass cases that contained a variety of fish, snakes, and miscellaneous small insects, most of which I had never seen before. He collected three vials with some kind of symbols I didn't recognize. "These vials contain extracts from a Puffer fish, Taipan snake, and a Wandering spider. Nothing you would like to ingest but Mrs. Wu uses them in her various Dream Drugs. They are legal on Sidon and on Samxor. I don't know about anywhere else you may stop."
"I have to stop in Tyrus. It's a time-sensitive delivery. After that I have two deliveries for Mrs. Wu before I'm free." I reached into my jacket and pulled out Wu's package and handed it to him. He weighed it in his hand before speaking.
"A kilo," he said as he rotated the package to examine the strange writing. "Dragon Dream Dust. An excellent choice. This is Mrs. Wu's payment for the poisons I sent her. A very profitable arrangement." He stood looking at me for a long time before speaking. "Thirty thousand for the three and there is no rush," he said more as a question than a statement. I nodded agreement since it was a generous offer, considering I doubted the three were illegal substances anywhere.
The area was quiet by the time I left, as the various circuses were in progress and the buildings bathed the area in dark shadows. Shadi spun backward as I heard puff, puff and my body convulsed in pain and I lost all muscular control. As I jerked, unable to control my movements, I saw four hooded bodies in the shadows. Shadi leaped into the air, spinning as she did, and landed crouched, facing our attackers.
"The damn cat's free!" One man's voice shouted.
"Tase her again—" another male voice shouted. I knew Shadi wasn't going to win against four men as I couldn't help. Shadi hide, I screamed, mentally projecting an image of the dark area away from the four attackers. She darted away.
"What happened?" a gruff voice shouted. "That cat’s worth tens of thousands of credits."
"One of the contacts must have dislodged when it spun from the shock," a younger voice said.
"Well, go after it!" the gruff voice said, pointing in the general direction Shadi had run.
"Not with these shadows. That cat's dangerous."
"Well, search her. See what Van Stefan gave her to smuggle out of system," the gruff voice said. Now that the pain had eased I could see he was a short wide man and one of the two holding a Taser with wires attached to me. I could feel the barbed metal probes in my back. He laughed. "Smuggling is illegal, Spacer. For your information, we’re the confiscation police."
The tall thin man knelt beside me, patting and squeezing me. "She's got three vials with strange marking, a Bahr Mfw, a knife, and a credit chip," he said when he finished his groping.
"Probably poisons. Not worth much on Sidon…but I'll bet the bitch has contraband on her ship and a bed where she can entertain us while we search. Get her to her feet."
The same man who searched me, lifted me to a standing position, stroking, grabbing, and giggling while he did. I endured, knowing resistance would only get me another fifty-thousand-volt lesson.
"Your ship awaits you, Pilot," the gruff voice said, which I assumed was the leader of this pack of hyenas. When I tried to walk my legs felt like Jello and I staggered. The thin man put his arm under mine and his hand roamed my breast. I cursed my condition. I not only didn't have a weapon and wasn't strong enough to run or fight, even if I weren't attached to two Tasers. I could feel Shadi's presence but wouldn't call her to help since it would mean her certain death. Having little choice, I decided to cooperate for now, hoping the space gods were in a playful mood and would give me a fighting chance. Maybe Kraig had returned, maybe customs would interfere, maybe a good Samaritan…more likely the best I could hope for was having a really, really bad day. I remembered little of the ride to the parking area and the walk to the Tykhe as I was fantasizing what I would do to these scavengers when I found them. And if I lived I would find them.
When we reached the Tykhe, the leader handed me my tablet. "Open it. And no funny business. The more trouble you give us the more painful this experience is going to be," he said, and pain shot through me as I fell to my knees. I knew at that moment he had no intention of letting me live.
Thank you, Clyde, I mumbled as I tapped three times on my tablet and then on the padlock. The screen went black. "I imagine Mr. Van Stephan will feed you those vials when his people find you, if the Black Hand doesn't find you first. You should hope it's Van Stephan," I said placing the tablet on the ground. The leader picked it up and tapped on it and when it didn't respond, he turned toward me. His eyes burned with hate. Pain shot through me again and again as he triggered the Taser he held. Then he grabbed the Taser from the short thin man standing next to him and activated both. I screamed as thousands of volts raced through my body, feeling like I had been dropped in molten lava. Instantly my body went into total paralysis, except for my heart which felt like a run-away jackhammer. I could feel Shadi close by held in check only by my warning of danger and to stay. If she attacked she would die, but if I died she would be forced to scavenge for food and eventually caught and caged or killed—better to die fighting, I finally concluded. When my body was able to function again and my mind semi-clear, I sent an image of the two men with the Taser, Shadi ripping the inside of their legs where the femoral arteries ran, and then darting away to hide. But before I could bring myself to give Shadi the command to attack, with the likelihood of her dying, the leader dropped onto my chest. Before I could recover my breath his face was next to mine. I gagged on his rancid whiskey breath.
"Bitch, open that ship or I’ll cut out your eyes—" He never finished as a blast of pellets from an Mfw ripped his face to shreds and he was propelled backward. Three more shots, so close they sounded like one, as each of the other three attackers fell.
As I lay dazed, wondering if Kraig had returned or maybe a good Samaritan had happened by, several men appeared.
"They didn't get into the ship. It's locked," a voice said from near the Tykhe's entrance.
"Zen's stunned by the look of her, otherwise she appears all right," another voice said while looking down at me.
"Good. Search these men to make sure they don't have anything of hers. Then we'll clean up and leave," a command sounding voice said. Several minutes later my Bahr, credit chip, and the three vials were laid next to me and the four bodies disappeared. To my surprise, a smooth-faced man with an angular face and silver-streaked hair looked down at me. His black eyes and hawk-like beak of a nose gave him a deadly look. "You need to be more careful, Zenaida. Life on the Rim is dangerous." He turned and disappeared into the darkness.
I called Shadi and pulled her to me. I don't know how long I lay there but the sky was beginning to lighten when I finally rose, collected my things, and entered the ship.
I woke to a buzzing, indicating someone was at the ship's entrance. I was confused when I saw it was Kraig until I realized I had used Clyde's padlock feature to lock down the Tykhe before falling into bed. I released the lock and made my way to the galley. Kraig entered a few minutes later.
"I surmise you didn't have a good day yesterday," he said as he fetched a cup of coffee and sat.
"I'm in an endless cycle of good news/bad news things happening, where the good news things are getting less and the bad news escalating."
"Want to explain?"
"Good news—I got a good price to transport various venom to Samxor. Bad news—four drug addicts thought I had gotten drugs from the individual and caught me with Tasers. Good news—Shadi got away. Bad news—the addicts decided I had drugs on my ship and dragged me here. Good news—Clyde's padlock kept them out
. Bad news—they weren't happy and thought a hundred thousand volts repeatedly applied would change my mind. The idiots didn't realize that would eventually cause cardiac arrest. Good news—I was saved. Bad news—the Black Hand saved me. "
"That sounds like good news—"
"That means WE are on a short leash since they had to be watching both of us to know when the Tykhe would be vacant and watching the ship to see their favorite fuck-on-demand girl wouldn't be available if they didn't intervene. And the really bad news—they killed the four addicts, which means I can't find them and do all the things I was fantasizing during my kidnapping."
Kraig choked on the coffee he was sipping. After he recovered he laughed once then sobered. "The good news is I was able to determine that Simon and Son is manufacturing the gas, although it's the Black Hand who delivers it to the Tykhe. The bad news is that we will have to deliver it to Tyrus and ultimately to the Raiders."
"The good news is that we should be able to determine who and maybe how it is being delivered to the Raiders," I said, determined to get my retribution, even if only indirectly. "It's all we can do without jeopardizing our mission, Kraig. If we alert them we are on to their operation by delaying delivery, it won't stop the killing. They will not only kill us but change their operation, making what we found worthless," I said, understanding Kraig's feelings. He nodded.
"Maybe Colonel Sherman will get lucky. I notified her that you were told to be back on Tyrus within six days, and that may indicate the Raiders have a raid planned. Given one to three days to deliver the canisters, the Raiders could be on the move within three to five days. So, predicated on the travel time from Tyrus to potential systems, she would have a window of opportunity for each system and a chance of being in system when they attacked."
* * *
We spent the next three days’ travel to Tyrus debating how to determine to whom the Black Hand delivers the canisters, and where they go afterward. It was logical to assume they would use the same technique to collect the canisters—they would have Kraig and I under surveillance to determine when the ship would be vacant and use some kind of maintenance vehicle as a pretext to enter the ship and make the pickup.