“Curiously enough, there is an envoy of Arguses here to meet us.”
“Pigs?” Ren asked. “Why?”
“Apparently they have brought us a gift,” Lissa said. “Personally, your coronation is more important. It's worth keeping them waiting. But they're not leaving until they speak with us and unveil this so-called gift.”
“It'll have to wait,” Dyne said.
“That's the thing,” Lissa said. “I've kept them waiting for a good four hours.”
Dyne smacked his head. “God. At this rate they're going to blow up the planet out of spite.”
“They'll be fine. But we need to meet now. Should just take a few minutes. What do you say, Your Highness? What a great first decision to have to make!”
Ren paused. Getting away from the coronation was a welcome distraction.
“Can we…bring soldiers?” she asked.
“There will be plenty,” Lissa said. “Don't worry.”
“They get five minutes,” Dyne said.
Lissa led the way toward the back of the ballroom, toward a side door.
“Don't worry,” she said. “I told them they're only getting two minutes.”
18
Ryan Miller connected his corsair to the airlock of the GGC Horizon. The gears in both spaceships locked shut, and Miller’s dashboard beeped signifying a complete seal.
Miller put on his fedora and straightened it, looking at himself in the shiny reflection of his dashboard.
Below, Gargantua’s golden clouds tinged the window in shades of yellow.
“This is my chance,” he said, grabbing his tablet off the dash.
It had been a miracle that the Galactic Guard hadn't taken off yet. By sheer luck did they agree to meet with him.
He rushed through the salon of his ship and into the airlock where the ships were connected.
In the airlock of the Horizon, two men waited for him.
He hurried into the Horizon to meet them, tipping his hat.
“Gentlemen,” he said, extending his hand. “Special Agent Ryan Miller. A pleasure. A real pleasure.”
Petty Officers Romeo Beauregard and Will Stroud shook his hand reluctantly.
“Nice ship you got here,” Miller said. “Never been on a Galactic Guard cutter. Always was a childhood dream. I won't trouble you for a tour as I know you are busy guys.”
“We’re happy to help you if we can,” Beauregard said. “But I have to say, your message was a bit cryptic.”
“Ah, yes,” Miller said. “Police tactic, you understand. If I told you the real reason and say, the person I was looking for happened to be aboard—well, that would be awfully frustrating.”
Miller laughed, but the two men didn't laugh with him.
He cleared his threat. “The reason I'm here is because I'm looking for someone. Devika Sharma.”
“Devi?” Beauregard asked.
There was a tone of familiarity in his voice. They must have been friends. Miller noted it.
“Yes, I'm looking for Devi,” Miller said, matching Beauregard’s tone. “When did you last see her?”
“What is this about?” Will asked.
Skeptical tone. Folded arms. Eyes burning a hole in his fedora.
This red head would be a problem. Miller noted that, too.
“She's the subject of an investigation,” Miller said. “I can't say what. But I need to talk to her as soon as possible.”
Beauregard and Will looked at each other.
Then they told Miller everything they knew.
19
Ren walked with a full escort entourage onto the roof of the hive ballroom center. The roof was rounded and orange, with bulbous skylights that looked like beehives of orange glass.
She stepped delicately over a pipe.
Dyne walked next to her, his rifle gripped tightly.
Lissa walked on the other side of Ren, and she walked free and careless, like there was no danger at all.
A gust blew, and a metal extension ladder scraped against the side of the roof.
She heard several voices and saw, four stories below, a line of soldiers standing at the base of the ladder. Behind them, a large, gray spaceship with a pointed nose. She had never seen a spaceship like this before and it was foreign to her, sleeker than the Zachary cruisers that often cruised the navy skies, slimmer than the wide warships that lumbered over the hive school on drills every day.
She paused, staring at the ship. But then grunting sounds on the roof drew her eyes to the edge.
Several Arguses were standing on the roof, with several soldiers aiming their guns at them. They were unarmed, their pink skin was oddly out of place in the dark night, and their leather suits made them look like one with the darkness. The rings in their noses jangled, and they spoke to each other in their strange, guttural language.
“Bok boo emp-pa bok. Emperess bok bok. Ja ja.”
They were laughing.
The damn pigs were laughing at her.
“Quiet!” Dyne cried.
A soldier began to translate.
“We congratulate you on your ascension to the throne,” the lead pig, a boar with bristly brown hair, said. “Though you are a mere girl, perhaps you will be worthy of our respect.”
“Address them, and ignore their words,” Lissa said.
“What is it you want?” Ren asked.
“With the absence of Tavin Miloschenko, we recognize that our relationship is in jeopardy. The truth is that our alliance is mutual and we need each other's help.”
Ren said nothing. The boar snorted.
“It is our understanding that the empire will not sign the Rah Accord when it renews later this year,” the boar said.
“Uh, I—”
Lissa interrupted. “We are still reviewing our options.”
“You lie,” the boar said. “A strong Rah Galaxy irritates you as much as it does us, especially with that arrogant kid spewing threats about the need for defense.”
“Florian Macalestern is an enemy to the empire,” Lissa said.
“And he is an enemy to us as well,” the boar said. “Any human who talks like him is an enemy, and we would not normally be concerned, but a man like him has…the means to follow through on his threats.”
“Then our alliance shall stand,” Lissa said.
“Stand, yes. Stand…”
The boar squealed.
And then Ren realized that it was holding onto a chain. The boar slapped the chain on the ground and yanked it.
A group of people fell from behind the rounded skylight.
A family.
An elderly woman in a dress.
A middle-aged man.
A woman. A beautiful woman.
A child—so small.
In chains. Tape over their mouths. They were worn, their bodies covered in sweat, and they had fearful looks in their eyes.
“Do these humans mean anything to you?” the boar asked.
“N-No!” Ren stammered. “Why have you—”
Lissa stepped forward and cut her off.
“Where did you find them?”
The boar laughed.
“Then they are important to you, after all…”
“What is the meaning of this?” Ren asked. “You can't take slaves and expect—”
“We found them in the aftermath of the attack of Refugio,” the boar said, grinning. “It was prime hunting time for us. When we examined their licenses, we were shocked to find out who they really were.”
“Where is the patriarch?” Lissa asked. “We don't care about them. It's Benito Puente we want.”
“Rumor has it he was eaten on Refugio,” the boar said. “We present his family to you as a present to maintain our alliance.”
Lissa harrumphed.
“Accept them,” Lissa said.
“I won't accept slaves,” Ren said under her breath.
“They are too important to turn away,” Dyne said. “Shut up and thank them. Be gracious and let's ge
t this over with.”
Ren tried to speak. She looked at the family, who looked at her back.
But she couldn't find the words. Instead, her head buzzed and she couldn't see straight. She wanted to vomit.
“We accept your gift,” Lissa said. “And we will fight Florian Macalestern together.”
“Very good,” the boar said.
The pigs nodded and started walking toward the ladder on the roof’s edge. But at the last moment, the boar turned and looked Ren straight in the eye.
“Gather your ships and tell them to meet us at the galaxy’s edge in one days’ time. If slavery makes you queasy, we cannot wait to see your squirm when the true carnage begins.”
And then they climbed off the roof, down onto the rocks. Then they entered their ship and blasted into space.
“You're worthless,” Lissa said. “If you can't even accept a gift, what will you do with your power?”
Ren couldn't speak.
Instead, she glanced down at the Puente family, who hugged each other in fear. Dyne grabbed the chains that held them and he yanked them toward the roof stairwell.
This isn't right, Ren thought. I can't stand for this. I—
Zzzzt!
Her entire body seized up and she crumpled to the ground. Immense, electrical pain surged through her muscles. She couldn't move.
Lissa stood over her with a stun gun.
“She's screwing up big time,” the scientist said. “We’ll have to go forward with electric shock therapy. Hate to do it, but we don't have time.”
Ren screamed inside her head as the soldiers dragged her away.
20
Keltie unlocked the door to her condo. It was chilly, and the air-conditioning was on. She shivered for a moment.
The condo was trashed. The last time she was here, two Arguses were tearing it apart.
“Nice place,” Grayson said, walking in after her.
“It's tiny, but it'll do,” she said. “Sorry for the mess.”
“I've seen worse,” Devika said.
She tossed her keys on her kitchen counter. Outside, the sun was setting on the living platform.
“Your place is so cozy,” Michiko said. Then she stopped at the edge of the hallway and looked at the mess. “Whoa…what happened?”
“Arguses happened,” Keltie said, shaking her head.
“No problem,” Eddie said, reaching into a nearby closet and grabbing a mop, broom and vacuum.
“You guys don't have to help,” Keltie said.
“We insist,” Grayson said, motioning for the broom. Eddie tossed it to him. “Besides, you've never seen the Xander and Cristobal Cleaning Company in action.”
“Who?”
“Good ol’ aliases,” Grayson said.
“Don't give it away,” Eddie said.
Grayson winked.
“We stay the night,” Devika said, picking up rotten apples from the counter and tossing them in the garbage. “Tomorrow morning, we surprise Florian. He won't expect us, and he won't be able to hide behind his goons. I'll arrest him and end all of this.”
“I like it,” Michiko said. “Assuming Keltie will be able to get us in.”
“I'm still gainfully employed,” Keltie said. “Just on medical leave.”
“Then let’s clean up and celebrate,” Grayson said. “And drink to the galaxy.”
Several hours later, Keltie’s condo was clean.
“Guys, you didn't have to help me,” Keltie said, straightening a picture frame of her family.
“We’re a team,” Eddie said. “It's what we do.”
There was a knock on the door. Grayson clapped.
“Pizza time,” he said, opening the door to a pizza delivery man.
Keltie smelled sausage and pepperoni, and she didn't realize how hungry she was.
Grayson brought a stack of pizzas and set them on the kitchen counter. He grabbed a pile of paper plates from a cabinet.
Eddie set a plastic bag on the counter full of bottles.
“Alcohol?” Keltie asked.
“Nothing crazy,” Eddie said.
“Just a bit to take some of the nerves off,” Grayson said.
They all sat around the kitchen table.
“Crazy to think about everything that brought us here,” Keltie said.
Michiko chomped on a slice. “It's crazier to think what happens once it's all over. I mean, I'm barely thinking about tomorrow, you know?”
“I'm going to see my family,” Eddie said. “That's the one thing I know.”
“We've all come a long way,” Devika said. “And we all have someone to see once this is all over.”
“Ooooh,” Michiko said. “Who are you going to see?”
“My mother,” Devika said.
“Oh,” Michiko said. “I thought you were going to surprise us and tell us you have a boyfriend.”
“Keep waiting,” Devika said.
“Aww, rats,” Michiko said.
“It's funny,” Keltie said, nursing a beer. “I—”
“Don't miss this place,” Grayson said, finishing her sentence.
“How did you know?” Keltie asked.
“Because I know everything,” Grayson said, tapping his temple.
“Then what's my birthday?” Keltie asked.
“Hey, hey, I think we’re moving a little fast here,” he said.
Keltie laughed.
“Pass the olives, will you?” Eddie asked. Keltie passed a jar of olives.
“Man, you and Michiko eat olives like nobody I've seen before,” Grayson said.
“That's because they're healthy, amigo,” Eddie said.
“I thought we weren't speaking Spanish for a bit,” Grayson said, grinning.
“Naw, your Spanish was just really bad on the last mission. If you agree to—”
“I can teach you Portuguese!” Michiko cried, raising her hand.
“I wouldn't mind understanding the lyrics to all those bossa nova songs I hear on the radio,” Grayson said.
“He's gotta learn Spanish first,” Eddie said. “Sorry. Maybe teach Devika instead.”
Eddie kept a straight face.
Then everyone laughed.
“I thought you were serious!” Michiko said.
“I have that effect sometimes,” Eddie said, giving her the olive jar.
They ate quietly for a while, and moonlight shone into the condo.
Keltie had never had this many people in her condo. Not ever. She thought of Claire, and how ironic it would be if she were here. Claire would probably make fun of her, tell her that she was finally transitioning into the extrovert she was always meant to be.
Not a chance.
But this was nice.
“So what's Florian’s story?” Grayson asked. “Why’s he such a nut case?”
“Being an heir to a corporation will do that to you,” Devika said.
“I refuse to believe that,” Grayson said. “I know plenty of people from good families who aren't like him.”
“Didn't he lose his mother at a young age? Robbery or something? Didn't his father die of a stroke? I bet that was tough.”
“He didn't end up in the foster system,” Grayson said. “Life for a trust fund baby couldn't have been that tough.”
“That’s insensitive,” Michiko said. “You don't know him.”
“Well, I know what he's done,” Grayson said. “And it's not redeemable in any way, shape, or form. And I say that as someone who considers himself pretty forgiving and level-headed.”
Keltie sighed. “I don't particularly care about the history of the executives who pull the puppet strings over my head,” Keltie said. “Though maybe I should. But he's just as much of an ass at work as he is outside of it.”
“No,” Grayson said sarcastically.
“It's a pretty widespread rumor that he wants Annaliese’s job as CEO,” Keltie said.
“And here I was, thinking he was wanting to start a nonprofit to cure cancer,” Grayson sai
d.
“He's a jerk,” Keltie said. “I've never worked for him. But I've known people who have. He's verbally abusive, arrogant, and he fires people for no reason, even if it means breaking the law. Macalestern has settled a few lawsuits under the table because of him. But his aunt protects him. He's an asshole, but he's an effective asshole.”
“The kind we should all strive to be,” Grayson said.
“You're excelling at it right now,” Keltie said.
Grayson pursed his lips.
“Damn!” Eddie said.
Grayson finished his beer. “All right, all right. I just don't like the guy, okay?”
“Neither do I,” Devika said, “and for what it's worth, I agree with your sentiments exactly, Grayson.”
Grayson grinned.
Eddie stretched. “I'd have another beer, guys, but I'm tired.”
“Me too,” Michiko said.
Devika gathered the empty beer bottles on the table and threw them into the trash.
“Thanks for the hospitality, Keltie,” she said. “It's nice to sit down and relax for a while.”
“You said the word relax?” Keltie asked, shocked. “Wow, I must really have a cool condo then.”
“Everyone set their alarms for dawn,” Devika said. “I've done some research. There's a tram a few miles from here, right?”
Keltie nodded.
“We’ll pretend we’re going to work. If we catch the seven o’clock tram, we’ll be at the Macalestern Headquarters by when—seven-fifteen?”
“Just in time,” Keltie said. “The executives usually roll in about seven.”
“Good. We’ll give him enough time to get settled, maybe have a morning coffee and a quick morning meeting, and then we’ll put him in jail for the rest of his life.”
“Love the optimism,” Grayson said, grabbing a trash bag.
“Love the fact that you're doing chores,” Keltie said.
Grayson saluted her and opened the front door.
“Down the hall and to the right,” she said.
Grayson left.
Everyone quieted down and Keltie began to clean up.
Grayson found the garbage chute with no trouble. He stopped in front of a moonlit window and opened the chute, throwing the garbage bag inside. It clanged against the sides of the metal chute as it tumbled a long way down.
Horizon Down (Galaxy Mavericks Book 9) Page 9