Treasure Hunt (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 9)

by J. Naomi Ay

  Shika decided that the best place to drink was again in his father's office. Being the Emperor, his father always had the best booze. Besides that, Shika had some business to commence.

  "Kinar," he ordered as he poured himself a half snifter of expensive brandy. "Get the Director of the Imperial Taxing Authority on the line."

  "Why, Sir?" Kinar asked, wishing he could send Shika away. Every time the Prince came in here, he made a colossal mess, and ordered everyone about as if they were mindless slaves.

  For all of the Emperor's faults, his yelling and his threats, Senya always treated everyone with respect. He had no reason to put anyone down. Surprisingly, Kinar missed Senya more than he could say.

  "It is not your place to question what I do," Shika said, swirling the liquid in his glass. "Now, follow my command, or you shall be dismissed."

  "Of course, Sir." Kinar bowed and returned to his own office. He wondered when Taner would arrive and would it be quickly enough, or, would Kinar jump out the third floor window in desperation.

  When the head of the ITA appeared on the vid above the Prince's head, Shika had decided exactly what he wanted to do.

  "You shall initiate an audit of the Korelesks," he ordered. "I want every asset in their possession accounted for. I want their taxes recalculated and refigured for the last twenty years."

  "Why, Sir?" The Director inquired, for only two days earlier he had taken another call. That one was from Duke Korelesk requesting the exact same thing. However, the Duke's target was the Imperial Prince, whom he believed was not reporting all of his earnings. Only yesterday, an inquiry had been initiated into Shika's affairs.

  "I suspect the Korelesks are hiding income in Cyganus," Shika continued. "You'll need to audit every one of them including the Duke, the Earl and the Viscount. If they haven't been paying their fair share, I shall have to toss the whole lot of them in jail, unless my father decides he'd rather have them dead."

  Funnily enough, the Duke had said the same thing. He suspected Shika was hiding income somewhere else.

  "It'll be a pity, but the Imperial Prince may have to go to jail. Unless his father decides that death is a better choice. He should have paid his fair share from the very start."

  "Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir," the Director responded, lest he be ordered to begin investigating himself, as well. Then, he turned off his vid and extracted his own bottle from his desk drawer before he summoned his assistant to begin the Korelesk audit.

  Chapter 12

  Rent figured out pretty quickly what was wrong with the wrangler's engine. Once he got in front of it, he just knew that the compressor had failed. He also knew that if he replaced the check valve, he could probably get the thing working well enough so that the guy could fly to the spaceport above Darius III. He'd need a complete overhaul once he got there, but he ought to make it there without a problem.

  "Ought to?" The cowboy asked.

  "It's a bandaid fix." Rent shrugged and started to explain how he made a patch with a roll of Duct Tape, liquid nails, a corkscrew, and a coat hanger.

  "Don’t bother telling me." The cowboy waved and taking off his Stetson, he scratched at the prominent bald spot on the back of his head.

  Rent decided that the spot looked like the shape of a moon, except for a black patch in the middle that might have been an unusually large mole. He wondered if the guy knew about it and had the mole looked over lately. By the size and odd shape, it might have been a melanoma.

  "I think you'll need to come along for a test drive." The cowboy continued, surprising Rent by taking out one of his guns. He didn't exactly point it at Rent, just waved it around a little in the air. "I just don't feel safe out there. Something might happen, and I might get stuck. I need a smart fella like you aboard to fix it. I'll make it worth your while, and I'll let you live."

  Rent started to object. After all, he had a job here at the SpaceWay Inn Motel. He couldn't just walk away without leaving a note for his boss. On the other hand, the gun was now pointing at his face. "Do you think we can go try it out, and if it works, you can drop me off back here?"

  The cowboy shook his head slowly. "We'll see about that, partner. Let's saddle up and ride. Come on, little doggy, it's time for us to hit the trail."

  Rent wasn't a pilot and he didn't like being in space. Looking out the window at all those empty and far away stars, Rent felt tiny and insignificant, which, actually, he was. He often got spacesick, usually spending a lot of the voyage in the lav, an anxiety attack wreaking havoc with his stomach.

  Rent tried to explain this to the wrangler as they departed, but the guy wouldn't listen. Instead, Rent was forced to sit in the co-pilot's chair on his tiny bridge. After Rent upchucked a peanut butter sandwich and the half box of Cheez-Its that he had consumed for dinner, the cowboy let him go lay down in the back, whereupon Rent spent the next few hours on a green vinyl sofa.

  Rent lay covered by a mohair blanket, and for lack of a pillow, his head upon his shoes. Above him on the cabin wall was an enormous black velvet picture of seven dogs playing poker and smoking cigars. On the opposite wall, also in velvet, there hung the image of a black haired main in a strange white suit with gold and silver studs embellishing the garment.

  "Who is that?" Rent inquired when the cowboy, whose name was Tex, next emerged from the bridge.

  "That's the King, little cowpoke." Tex smiled up at the portrait with an adoring gaze.

  While the cowboy drifted off to the tiny lav at the back of the plane, Rent studied the picture closely looking first this way and then, that. He didn't think the picture resembled the Emperor very much at all.

  Maybe when he was younger? Rent thought, recalling the Emperor's black hair from the portrait in the lobby of his school. Rent thought about that picture of the Imperial Couple, which incidentally was not mounted on black velvet, but in a frame. He remembered how they gazed down upon him each morning as he arrived in the building.

  Rent was always tardy despite how early the bus had dropped him off. Somehow, getting from the front door to the classroom was an enormously complicated task. The route was filled with many distractions that deterred his progress down the hall. There were bugs on the walls to be examined, and cracks in the paint that required his attention. There might have been a flickering light overhead with a bulb that was about to give out. Rent needed to study it until exactly that fateful moment when the light died.

  Getting to the lunchroom in time to eat and then, returning to that classroom once again was an undertaking of an equally challenging measure. Rent did love the tater tots and the little wienies wrapped in cheese. Funnily enough, all these pleasant memories brought to mind the Lunch Lady who looked like the Empress. She was always kind to him, even though, he was usually the last in line and very few of the tater tots were remaining.

  "I've saved some for you," she used to say in her weird accent, her eyes filling with tears as if he had made her cry. He apologized once or twice, not knowing what he had done. "It's nothing," she insisted with a shake of her head. "You look like a little boy I used to know; my own son, in fact, who lives very far away on another planet."

  Rent shrugged for lack of a better response and then, slowly ate his lunch, carefully dipping each of his tiny tater tots in just the right amount of ketchup.

  Tater tots sounded good right now to a very hungry Rent. Even another box of Cheez-Its would have been just grand.

  "Have you got anything to eat?" He asked Tex as the older man returned from the facilities in the aft.

  "Sure, son. Just help yourself to anything you want in the fridge."

  Rent swallowed seven pieces of beef jerky, four pepperoni sticks, and a bottle of Rootbeer. For dessert, he ate three marshmallows and biscuit that was so hard it nearly broke his tooth. Feeling marginally better, he walked around the ship and examined every inch while wondering if the cowboy would ever let him return to Darius VI.

  The following day, Rent was working in the black box bay. Stockholm
syndrome had set in, and he was content. He didn't miss Six at all. In fact, this ship was rather appealing. There were seventy-seven interesting boxes that he could take apart and put back together. That alone would keep him entertained for months.

  In addition, there was enough beef jerky and marshmallows to last him nearly a year. If by chance they ran out, pepperoni sticks could be substituted just fine. Rent had water, protein and carbohydrates, so he needed nothing else.

  "Where are we going?" Rent asked when they flew past Darius III and the spaceport where the engine could have been overhauled.

  "We're treasure hunting," Tex replied. "We're on our way to the Lyrian sector where I heard there was a crash of a government plane. We're going prospecting for some fancy lady's gold and jewels."

  "Okay." Rent shrugged for lack of a better response.

  He didn’t care about gold or jewels, but neither did he have a choice. Being the easy going guy that he was, Rent didn't worry that he had been effectively kidnapped. It never crossed his mind that he might even end up dead. For no reason at all, Rent trusted Tex, and considered him a sort of friend, if not a father figure. This was also about as exciting an adventure as he had ever been on.

  "Don’t worry, young'un," the wrangler said, scratching his leg with the tip of the spur on his boot. "We'll find the goods and then take them over to Cascadia III. I know a pawn shop where we can hock them and get a good price. I reckon you'll make yourself a fair bit of money for helping me out."

  "Okay," Rent replied again and scratched his own leg with his shoe's rubber sole.

  He wasn't wearing a boot or a spur, just a cheap canvas runner. He decided if he earned enough from this job, he'd buy his own pair of boots and silver spurs. He might even get a big Stetson like Tex. The only problem with that was hats tended to make his head sweat, which in turn, caused pimples to break out all over his forehead.

  After a few days of living with Tex, alternating who slept on the old vinyl sofa while the other kept an eye on the stars, Rent found himself copying the old wrangler's style. Even though he was over thirty years old, Rent was essentially an unformed lump of clay, molding to whatever situation he was in and then, unmolding and reforming into something else.

  Rent began to walk with a bow-legged swagger. He scratched wherever and whenever he itched. He chewed a little tobaccy although he couldn't say he really liked the taste or the bits that got stuck between his teeth. By the time, they reached Lyra II, Rent was speaking with a Texan drawl. He had his own Six Shooter clipped to his belt, and was ready to find him some gold.

  Lizwix found the presence of these new aliens mildly disturbing. They came in one of those spaceships, although this one made a tremendous amount of noise. It hovered above the ground, nearly as high as her nest, and the constant pulsing and throbbing of the engine interrupted Lizwix's affairs.

  Lizwix was thankful that the raptor had disappeared from the village, even though he had eaten half of the inhabitants including most males. Funnily enough, Lizwix missed Lawbre, especially the way the sun would shine off his bald round pate.

  After the alien girl had departed with the spaceman, Lizwix realized that she longed for her own egg. Lawbre would have been her choice to do the honeyed dance, but unfortunately, he was flapping his wings and jaw in the hereafter.

  Consequently, Lizwix was forced to pick someone else, so she settled upon Jondep, Lawbre's cousin, who wasn't nearly as round and had a head of fuzzy yellow hair. Jondep, however, had a mightily impressive tool. In fact, it was well known in the village just exactly how remarkable it was.

  Jondep was thrilled to have been chosen. Not only was it an honor, but it was great fun, especially for his tool, which daily longed for the practice. Furthermore, there were no repercussions, no gifts to be bestowed, and no child support paid or ever required. True, Lizwix might eat him at the conclusion of the act, or worse, she might cut off his tool with her sharp claws. That was a risk Jondep was willing to take in order to give his tool some exercise.

  Liz and Jon were in the throes of all these efforts when the new spaceship descended into their midst, causing Jondep to abruptly finish what he had only just started. Lizwix was understandably annoyed, so much so, she bared her claws, leaving Jondep only half of what he came with, no longer a remarkable or impressive tool at all.

  He would have lost more, including his head, were Lizwix not distracted by the spacemen. They climbed from their strange ship and began to scour the forest floor.

  "Ya see anything, son?" A man's voice called out.

  "Yes, siree, Tex. There's a whole mess of somethin' down here under this here mess of yeller dirt."

  Lizwix immediately tore out of her nest, while Jondep tried to reattach what Lizwix had snipped off. The alien men pulled open the door to the buried plane and then climbed inside while Lizwix hovered in the trees. She listened to their voices echo off the metal walls.

  "Should we bury them, ya think, Tex?" The younger man inquired.

  "I reckon they're already buried in this here plane. After we leave, we'll shut the door, and cover it up. Now, see if you can go find the loot, son. The smell in here is making this old cowboy cry. I'll just wait for you right outside. Don't take too long. Them doggies are waiting to get back on the trail."

  "Yes, siree, Tex. I'll be looking for the treasure."

  The older man climbed back out through the hatch. He sat down upon the roof of the plane and lit up a smoke. Although Lizwix hid behind a limb thick with branches, she could have sworn the spaceman smiled at her. He tipped his hat and blew a cloud of smoke in her direction.

  "Howdy, Ma'am," he called in her language. "Ya'll have a nice day."

  "Is that what you were looking fer, Tex?" Now, the younger man climbed out carrying a small purse.

  "Bring it here, son." Tex shook the contents out into his hand. There was a rope of tiny, white, round pearls, and a chain of polished gold. There was a stack of shiny coins and another of some kind of paper, but what Lizwix liked best of all was the silver locket.

  "What's that, Tex?" The younger man watched as the old man tried to pry it open.

  "Don't know, son. Can’t figger out how to unlatch the darn thing. Here, you give it a shot."

  As soon as the locket touched the younger man's hand, it sprung open as if by magic. Inside, a brilliant blue stone glistened, making Lizwix gasp with delight. To the tiny sprite, it appeared as if a fire was burning in the stone. She had never seen anything so beautiful and apparently, neither had the young man.

  "Wow!" Rent gasped and made to hand it back to his companion. As soon as the stone touched Tex's hand, the fire inside erupted like a blue volcano. Tex snapped the locket shut and dropped it in his pocket.

  "That'll fetch a pretty penny when we get to Cascadia III. Come on, cowpoke, let's load up the wagon train. We'll let these poor little winged folks rest in peace while you and I go rustle up some grub."

  Lizwix watched as the spaceship once again soared off to the stars. Then, she returned to her own nest to prepare it for her egg. Even though she hated dusting and cleaning, she wanted her home to be welcoming for her new chick. She got her broom from the closet and proceeded to tidy up.

  Rent was sleeping on the vinyl sofa when he was abruptly awoken by a strange metallic noise. It sounded like a whole bunch of gears grinding together. He bolted upward and sniffed the air inhaling the pervasive stench of burnt rubber mixed with the usual smells of mold and kitchen grease.

  "Ah crap," Rent cried and reached around in the dark for his trousers.

  They were under the sofa scrunched up in a ball while his boxer shorts were tangled around his feet. Rent hated sleeping in clothes. He'd get this suffocation feeling in his throat, and he'd start dreaming about being enclosed in a cardboard box.

  Rent didn’t know where that dream had come from. It was one of those recurring types that he had experienced throughout his life. He'd crawl from one cardboard box to another, each one getting smaller.

&n
bsp; "It's a birth trauma dream," Alyssa had theorized after Rent had woken up screaming one night. "I read an article about these things in a magazine at the beauty shop. The cardboard boxes are symbolic of your mother's womb."

  "How does that make sense?" Rent scoffed. "I never even knew my real mother."

  "Well, that's the thing. The truth is you can't get out of the boxes because you don't want to. You really wish you were back in the womb, and she was taking care of you."

  Rent guessed that made some odd sort of sense. For a while, he tried to imagine who his real mother might be. When he was little, he fancied she was a film star or even the Empress. In truth, she was probably a teenage girl, or a whore who didn't want a baby.

  Sometimes, he pretended she was that Lunch Lady, the one who had given him all those extra tater tots.

  "Tonto," Tex barked coming from the ship's tiny bridge. "Come on, lad. We've got a problem.”

  Tex had taken to calling Rent this new name shortly after they had left Lyra II. Rent wasn't sure exactly what it meant, and had tried once or twice to remind Tex of his real name.

  "Ach, Rent isn't your name, son," Tex had scoffed. "That's just some silly business those foster folks of yours thought up. Since you're riding with me now, I'm going to give you a new handle. I might as well call you Tonto since you're such a fine companion."

  "Tonto," Rent repeated, testing the sounds on his tongue. He couldn't say that he really liked the name. On the other hand, he'd been called worse. Rent shrugged and said, "Ok," as he always did. He supposed Tonto was better than being known as 'Hey you,’ which on more than one occasion, he had been.