by C. R. Daems
"Yes. Mr. Hammar is at station five." He turned and pointed to an area to the far right and a booth with the number five on one side."
The floor contained maybe thirty men and women who were either talking in groups or working at one of the ten stations. When I reached station five an overweight middle-aged man waved me to an empty chair.
"Welcome, Zenaida. I'm surprised you have never done business with us before. I purchase and sell the kind of commodities you tend to transport," he said it with such assurance I wasn't tempted to argue. "The three kilos our client purchased can be picked up at this address." He handed me a small plastic card. "That card and the pick-up address are only good for four hours. At that time the card will go blank and the transaction will be considered void if not retrieved."
"You buy and sell these items?" I asked, clearly confused. I knew stocks, produce, and futures were bought and sold at certain markets but not illegal drugs and what else? Maybe this was like the dark web, albeit a dark market.
"We locate sellers and usually arrange to have them delivered. It's rare to see a client arrange his or her own transportation. Not that I blame her. Our service has been less than reliable this past year. Besides, we only insure thirty-three percent of the cost and never ship quantities this large. You must be very trustworthy as the client has accepted full responsibility for its delivery." He smiled knowingly. After getting directions I left, caught a taxi, and was at the indicated apartment building ten minutes early. I found room number 312 and knocked. An elderly woman answered, checked the number on the card I was given, and then fetched a knapsack she handed to me. She shut the door before I could say anything. I was still standing there when the door opened and the woman and a younger man armed with a Mfw exited the apartment, hustled down the hallway to the exit stairs, and disappeared. I assumed this was the company's method of staying at arms-length from the transaction while providing a safe handoff—I didn't like it.
On a whim, I tried the door, found it unlocked, and entered. There I removed the one-kilo bags and emptied them into my safe containers and then filled the original containers with flour, sugar, and water I found in the kitchen. I secured my containers on me and replaced the original three back into the knapsack. I didn't think it would fool anyone but it might give me a few seconds advantage. When I exited my taxi was still there so apparently my precautions were unnecessary. The taxi dropped me at the gate to the customs parking area. Halfway to the Tykhe I saw three men standing directly in my path, and through my connection with Shadi knew three more were behind me.
"Pilot Zen, you are trading on our turf. Poaching, one could say," said the tall man in the middle of the three facing me, his voice full of amusement. So much for security, I mused. "Poaching can get you killed."
"You planning on killing me for this knapsack?" I asked, tired of the Black Hand. "There is nothing in this knapsack worth dying over."
"Might kill you just for something to do," the same man said as his hand rested on his Mfw.
"You're not going to kill me. You’re an errand boy sent to teach me a lesson. They sent six to make sure I didn't kill you and get away with the knapsack."
"You little bitch—"
"Jackop, this isn't the time or the place," someone from behind me said, confirming my thoughts. Jackop had his Mfw drawn and pointing at me. His face registered his frustration. He wanted to shoot but knew the consequences wouldn't be worth it.
"Throw that knapsack over here or I'll kill that cat," he snarled.
"Harm that cat, and I'll personally see the Black Hand dies of a thousand cuts," I whispered, ready to kill him and vowing if I survived to contact my assassin friend and pay him all the money I had to kill Black Hands until the money ran out.
"Jackop!" the man behind me shouted, and by the look on Jackop's face he was facing drawn weapons. I removed the bag and threw it at Jackop's feet. He sneered, picked up the bag, and looked inside.
"Three bags, like we were told." He pulled one out and held it over his head and laughed." Feels like a kilo."
"Jackop, put it back and let’s go. Zen, this time it's a friendly lesson." The man's voice was calm and confident. The man in charge of sending the message and enforcing it if necessary. They turned and left and I forced myself to walk slowly like someone dejected. When I entered the ship I locked everything down, ran into the control center, and fired up the engines. Kraig came running on to the Flight Deck as I sat laughing hysterically.
"What's wrong, Zen?" he asked, his face a picture of concern. I laughed some more, tears running down my face as the Tykhe lifted off the pad and on course to Dacca. By the time I reached the galley and grabbed two beers I had pains in my sides from laughing. It took almost two beers for me to stop. Kraig sat looking worried and not sure what to do.
"Six Black Hands stopped me just short of the Tykhe and demanded I give them what I was carrying. They said I was poaching on their territory. Someone told the Black Hand I had a contract to deliver drugs from Divona to Dacca. The bastards knew the details, down to who would provide them, the quantity, the drugs, and the client." My face had turned hard, thinking about what they had planned and how they had used me over the years.
"Will the client hold you responsible?"
"The jackasses were so busy posturing and laughing over what it would cost me they didn't bother to check what I had in the original knapsack: flour, salt, and water. The lesson is not to forget why you are in the swamp. They were so busy amusing themselves they forgot the object was to relieve me of the client's drugs." I went on to explain exactly what happened in all its gory details.
It was his turn to laugh. "The Black Hand has probably contracted to have dart boards made with your face as the bulls-eye." He shook his head like a wet dog. "Fortunately, Colonel Sherman has a fleet assembled and she is due in Dacca about the time we arrive to finalize the strategy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Star System: Dacca
Customs was aboard the Tykhe almost before the engines had stopped, which didn't surprise me. I had become a nasty boil on the Black Hand's back they wanted lanced, preferably with a hatchet.
"You have nothing on your manifest yet you delivered nothing to Divona and returned with nothing," the senior inspector said unable to contain a grin. "That is very suspicious."
"If you will check with security at Divona you will find I reported being robbed in the customs secure parking area. The thieves stole the assignment I was supposed to take back to Dacca."
"What was the assignment?" He had stopped grinning. "Customs only found a knapsack with cooking supplies."
"I have to eat. There were legal papers in the knapsack," I said, enjoying the game and making the boil on the Black Hand's back fester.
"Who were the legal papers for?"
"I think that is privileged information. If you need to know I guess you could contact the customs office on Divona. Besides, what difference does it make? The client has been notified of the theft."
"We will need to conduct a routine inspection of the Tykhe," he said and waved to the team he had with him who took out their Sniffers and began their search. The routine search included every room and compartment and, ironically, a half hour in the missile room.
"I don't know about you guys but I’m exhausted. Would you like a beer?" I waved toward the galley.
"No. We have other ships to inspect and we've wasted a lot of time here," he snarled, as if I had caused the problem, and stormed out of the cargo area with his team following. I sealed the ship, returned to the galley, and rolled on the floor with Shadi, laughing.
Kraig returned later that afternoon. "You look in a good mood," he said as he sat.
"A team of customs inspectors entertained me for two hours. I wonder if they got paid for the effort or pay was contingent on finding something," I said as an afterthought.
"What do you think they will do next?" Kraig asked, obviously referring to the Black Hand.
They are probab
ly having WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE posters printed for every system in the RIM, so I think Sherman had better hurry with whatever she's planning."
"Then you're in luck. An ACS taskforce of seven cruisers is moving in position within the asteroid belt, one for each of Motif's seven moons. She is expecting the Tykhe on the third day to begin exploring the moons. If you can find their base, the seven will converge on the base or cruisers as appropriate." Kraig sounded eager and ready to start. I wasn't.
"In reality, when the Raiders detect the Tykhe their two cruisers will rush to destroy us, and we will have only one cruiser to defend us…because most of the moons are separated by over twenty million kilometers," I said, wondering if I should be more concerned by the Black Hand or the Raiders killing me.
"Colonel Sherman is hoping the closest cruiser will provide enough of a distraction for us to escape," Kraig said and had the nerve to smile.
"Why don't you invite her to join us on the Tykhe? That way she will have front row seats and can better direct the taskforce," I said. Kraig choked on his coffee. I threw up my hands.
"I’m surrounded by people who have sledge hammers, so the solution is always smash the problem with the hammer. It doesn't matter if it's a fly on a priceless antique or a landmine!" I said while shutting my eyes and shaking my head in frustration. "If we manage to avoid the sledgehammers killing us, I’ve decided what I'm going to do afterward."
"What?" Kraig leaned forward in anticipation.
"Create a smuggling organization to replace the old arthritic Black Hand. They are using old-fashioned methods which make them expensive and untrustworthy. The White Hand will be cheaper and more reliable—everyone will win." I produced my best angelical smile. Kraig’s jaw hung open, moved, but made no sound one could interpret as words. Finally he managed to speak.
"You're kidding."
"No. They are using old-Earth tactics. They bribe government officials, security, and customs inspectors, and hire irresponsible thugs to kill and intimidate those they can't bribe or scare off. That makes the operation extremely expensive, unreliable, and dangerous because of all the unnecessary mayhem they cause. I would bring smuggling into the current century. Of course, a lot of folks are going to have to live on less." I forced myself to look serious. "If I were a smuggler, that is what I'd do. Obviously, I don't have the necessary skills."
"The good news is that the ACS doesn't care about crime in the Rim so long as it doesn't spill over into the Central Systems."
* * *
The next day I visited two dealers that provided starship armament and weapons on the pretext of checking prices to replace my missing missiles and to upgrade my ECM suite after the encounter with pirates. Late in the day I stopped in Madam Josephine's SPA and Salon.
"Good day, Spacer. How can I help you?" asked a young girl sitting behind a counter containing an assortment of cosmetics and beauty equipment.
"My name is Zenaida and I have an appointment to discuss your services," I said, per Kraig's instructions.
"If you would follow me, ma'am. Miss Josephine is expecting you." She led me past two rows of women in chairs having various part of themselves worked on: hair, face, hands, or feet. Personally, I’d prefer a hot bath, relaxing music, and quiet time with Shadi. The young girl entered a door marked PRIVATE and proceeded down a hallway to the last door. She knocked and hearing, Come, entered. Inside, Colonel Sherman stood in dark brown slacks and a dark green silk blouse—dressed like a customer. Next to her a woman several inches taller stood wearing a light beige pantsuit and a white blouse. While Sherman's hair was just over her ears and curly, the other woman's auburn hair cascaded in ringlets almost to her waist.
"Good day, Zenaida," Sherman said, smiling. "I agree you have lived up to our original agreement and thank you for volunteering to help us eliminate the Raiders. I have agreed to all your conditions." Sherman waved me to an empty chair. "Josephine is an AIA agent, in case you ever need help. We aren't trying to catch criminals like the Black Hand only to ensure their activities remain in the Rim."
"What if they aided the Raiders?" I asked, knowing the Black Hand and I could not coexist in the same space.
"Are you planning on replacing them?" Sherman gave me a knowing look.
"Won't it be better to have a smuggler who knows the rules and doesn’t take contracts to kill people or transport weapons for killers?" I asked, trying to gage ACS interest in the Rim. Sherman gave a snort.
"Rules?"
"Rim drugs and corruption stay in the Rim."
This time Sherman laughed. "Yes, it would be helpful if the Rim's drugs weren't available in the Central Systems. We have enough of our own crime." She paused and gave me a hard look. "Doesn't it bother you helping supply dealers with drugs that addict people?"
"It's not a supply issue. It's a demand issue. So long as millions of people crave the drugs there is no way to stop the supply. However if you stopped the users, the supply would dry up. Smugglers are only providing a commodity people want."
"But those drugs ruin lives," Josephine interjected.
"There is no cure for stupidity and you can't legislate common sense."
"You're suggesting a compromise—a White Hand instead of a Black Hand?" Sherman grinned. "That could benefit the ACS but first we need to eliminate the Raiders. I'm told the cruisers will be in place by midnight."
"The Tykhe will be entering Motif's asteroid field around noon. I'm not sure which moon I’ll inspect first but I'd like the cruiser guarding that moon to move to the next closest one. That way, except for the first moon, there will be more than one cruiser in the area when we flush the Raiders," I said, hoping to have several ACS cruisers available.
"I'll send orders to that effect," Sherman said, jotting something on her tablet. I left knowing the end was in play, there could be no ties, and there could be only one winner in both contests.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Star System: Dacca - Moons of Motif
Would you like to take a guess which moon is the least likely to be a base for the Raiders?" I asked as we approached the asteroid field. If we were lucky and it was the last one we investigated, we would have seven ACS cruisers at our backs…of course the space gods would never permit such a boring event. They liked to challenge the pesky humans to see what they were made of.
"Well, looking at the moons, they form a ring around Motif and were numbered sequentially, M0 through M6, and then a number to indicate their relative size 20 through 80," Kraig said, staring at one of the monitors.
"That sidestepped the question nicely," I quipped. "I asked whether it's a boy or a girl and you tell me children come in both sexes."
"I just thought we could start at one end of the string and work our way from one end to the other."
"That's sounds logical for several reasons. Less chance of confusing the ACS captains." I grinned. "All right, which end, M0 or M6?"
"It turns out M082 is the largest and M612 is the smallest," Kraig said, trying to look serious.
"I already know children come in both sexes," I said, although I didn't blame him for not wanting to pick, as the wrong choice could end in a disaster. "All right, we will let Shadi choose." I went to a container and selected two treats which looked close to identical in size, carved a six in one with my fingernail and a zero in the other. Then held out both hands with the treats enclosed in my fists. Shadi approached slowly, stretching several times on the way over, which I thought intentional. "Clown," I said as she sniffed each hand and then a paw touched the right hand. "She selected M6,” I said.
"Did she select the one to start with or the one to avoid?" Kraig asked, looking serious. I threw the second treat at him, which Shadi snagged out of the air before it reached him.
We were in the asteroid field now and I was working my way out. "I shouldn't do it but I'll let fate decide. We'll wait and select the first one that appears."
The first one turned out to be M4, then M3 came into view.
&nbs
p; "M0 it is then," I said, hoping we had made a lucky draw. It took several hours before M0 came into view. "Ready or not, here we go," I said, easing the Tykhe out of the asteroid field and setting a vector for M082. I slowed to fifty gravities as we circled the moon with active sensors. I made three passes, trying to ensure we had either photographed everything or would have forced the Raiders to swat the annoying bug buzzing around them before we found their base. It was almost certain we wouldn't find their ships as they would be powered down and as insignificant as a grain of sand on a beach. I felt a sense of relief when nothing happened and set a vector for M146, maintaining a slow two hundred gravities just in case we were wrong about the moons. We were after all bait—chum for the sharks.
We reached M146 within two hours and began our predetermined three-pass investigation. Again nothing, which was both good and frustrating at the same time. Good because that would mean we would have three ACS cruisers at the next moon to save us, but frustrating because I wanted to get the waiting over with and it could mean we guessed wrong, or missed them, or they chose not to take the bait and nothing would be resolved.
"Raiders!" Kraig shouted, jerking me out of my distracted musing. We were halfway through our third pass, suggesting we missed their base but were close enough for them to note our presence. They probably shuttled crew to their idle cruiser, prepared the ships during our second pass, and caught us napping on our third. They were heading straight for us at max speed—over five hundred gravities. "Eight missiles incoming. Impact ten seconds," Kraig said in the resigned voice of a man facing a firing squad and hearing the commander shout "Fire."
I panicked and hit the booster engage switch, so rather than try to take evasive action, I had just jumped into the enemy. Even with the compensators the new boosters pushed me into my seat and my chest felt like an elephant had fallen on me. Shadi slid back into the far wall. Then suddenly the pressure eased and the screen showed us shooting off into space and toward Motif. Kraig gave a strangled laugh, his face ashen.