Star Wolf (Shattered Galaxy)

by David G. Johnson

  “No electronic surveillance,” she announced after a few moments. “They might not know yet that you have the datacube. Grab whatever you need. We leave in five minutes.”

  Voide exited the room before John had a chance to argue. He hung the datacube pendant around his neck, grabbed his spare medical bag from his closet, and tossed a few shirts and socks into another satchel along with the bundles of cash he had pulled from the safe. The smell of smoke wafted into his nostrils as he made his way toward the front room.

  “Oh, what now?” He mumbled before he rounded the corner to see Voide busy setting curtains, carpet, and furniture stuffing on fire.

  “What are you doing?” he screamed at the security chief. “Are you insane? This is my house!”

  “Not anymore, Doc. It’s a target. If we leave the place standing, those monks will figure out they missed something, and that you have it.”

  “So what?”

  “So then you become the target.”

  “And burning my house down changes that?”

  “Yes. If we leave this place a smoking pile of ash, they won’t know if what they were looking for was even here.”

  John could follow her logic, but his house burning to the ground before his eyes clouded the argument. Before he could reconcile it all, Voide grabbed his arm, forcing him out of the door and back toward their vehicle.

  “I’ll drive,” she announced, pushing John toward the passenger side of the vehicle.

  He climbed in, too stunned to object or ask any questions. Voide started the vehicle, spun it back in the direction of the starport, and gunned the engine.

  “Not too fast,” John mumbled, his mind still processing the reality of his home being destroyed as he fumbled with the seatbelt. “We will get a citation.”

  “Zealot monks just tried to kill us and you are worried about a traffic ticket?” she replied, not letting up on her speed in the slightest.

  Voide’s wristband sounded an alert. She glanced down at the small display screen, shifting her eyes briefly off the road ahead.

  “Well, that’s good news, I suppose,” she said.

  “What news?” John said, snapping out of his daze.

  “Our patron made contact. He wants to meet with Molon for the payoff later today in the Greenway Lounge at the starport. Molon wants us to report there as soon as we get back.”

  “Did he say who it was?”

  “No,” she said as she tapped an acknowledgement into the comm band. “We will know soon enough.”

  *****

  John released his white-knuckled grip from the dashboard of the CUV as they pulled into the rental lot at the starport. They had reached it without receiving a citation for Voide’s speedy and reckless driving. She guided John, still reeling somewhat from the loss of his home and the inexplicable involvement of the monks, back toward the entry portal.

  “Where am I supposed to go now?” he asked, still halfway in a daze. “I have no life, I have no home.”

  “You’re rich, aren’t you? Buy a new one, or hide out on Star Wolf until you sort this all out. Molon has a heart for strays.”

  “Me on a mercenary ship?”

  “Just a thought.”

  “Why would I do that?” John asked, both relieved and confused by the security chief’s change in attitude toward him.

  “To stay alive.”

  John stopped in his tracks. In all this, the thought that the events at the house might have been more than just a robbery attempt had never occurred to him. What would have happened if he had stumbled upon the intruders alone? Would Faithful monks truly have killed him?

  “Do you really think I am still in danger?”

  “If I was after you, you would be.”

  “That’s comforting.”

  John didn’t doubt her assessment. Still, this was Tede, a peaceful hermit-world. Things like this didn’t happen here. How had his world gotten turned so upside down?

  “You’ve got to figure,” Voide explained. “Even after this mystery patron pays up, Tede is the last place in the galaxy you want to be.”

  “But if the monks are after Elena’s research, I can address that with their High Abbot. I’m sure this is all just a big misunderstanding.”

  “It is not just the monks,” Voide replied.

  “How do you figure that?” John asked.

  Voide sighed and shook her head.

  “It seems like there are way too many people interested in you not living out a peaceful life on Tede. You said yourself these Brothers of the Lion have been waging war against the Imperium. Do you really think they are the ones who handed you over to Dawnstar?”

  “No,” John replied after briefly thinking it through. “That wouldn’t make sense. So I suppose there are two groups after me now.”

  “At least,” Voide replied. “You are a popular guy.”

  John sighed. Maybe a gunship full of mercenaries was exactly where he needed to be, at least until all this craziness got sorted out.

  Six – Brothers of the Lion

  Molon Hawkins sat facing the door of the private room in the rear of the Greenway Lounge. Twitch had finished her oversight of the supply run and had joined him. As the chime announced a request for entry, she flashed Molon her signature look that resonated through him like a call to battle stations.

  “Ready for trouble?” Twitch asked.

  “Cynic,” Molon grumbled. “You know sometimes things go smoothly.”

  Twitch flashed Molon a patronizing grin and gave him a gentle pat on his jowls.

  “Not with an anonymous patron and us holding half the cargo they don’t, but your optimism is just so cute.”

  He could have done without her smug jibe, but he trusted her instincts. To that effect, he slipped his automag out of its holster and laid it in his lap below the table. Twitch similarly cradled a palm-sized blaster with a four-shot energy cell sufficiently low profile to slip past most weapon detectors. She had nicknamed that tiny blaster ‘Plan B’, and it had been the deciding argument in quite a few rocky negotiations the last few years. Hopefully they wouldn’t need Plan B today.

  “Come in,” Molon announced.

  A salt-and-pepper-haired man with a closely trimmed beard entered the room. He was slightly below average in stature but in fit shape, wearing a suit reminiscent of the brown cassocks of old-Earth monks. The garb was more tunic length than a full cassock, with functional, matching brown pants below. There was a kindly glint to the man’s green eyes, but Molon sensed something deeper.

  “Captain Hawkins?” the new arrival inquired.

  “That’s me,” the Lubanian captain replied without rising. “And this lovely lady is my executive officer, Commander Jane Richardson.”

  “Twitch,” she added, with a cordial nod.

  “I suppose you are our mysterious benefactor?” Molon inquired.

  “Yes, I suppose I am. Call me Brother Martin. I am a representative of the Brothers of the Lion,” the man said as he glanced around the room.

  “Looking for something?” Twitch asked.

  “I’m sorry,” the monk said, clearly somewhat distracted. “Is Dr. Salzmann en route?”

  “The doctor should be here momentarily,” Molon said, shifting a bit in his chair. “I trust you have brought the transfer pad and files to release the funds on the contract?”

  “Yes, of course,” Brother Martin affirmed with a grin and a nod. “I will release those the moment Dr. Salzmann arrives and I confirm she is safe and sound.”

  Molon’s stomach hitched.

  “She?” Twitch asked, giving voice to the thought in Molon’s head.

  “Why yes. Captain Hawkins did say Dr. Elena Salzmann would be joining us momentarily, did he not?”

  The fur on the back of Molon’s neck stood up. He hated it when Twitch was right. Time to face the music.

  “Um, actually,” Molon replied, “Dr. John Salzmann is on the way. Unfortunately there were complications on Ratuen. Dr. Elena Salzmann did
n’t make it.”

  Brother Martin’s smile disappeared. He had been in the process of taking his seat, but Molon’s revelation froze him halfway between sitting and standing. He grabbed the edge of the table with both hands.

  “What do you mean Elena Salzmann didn’t make it?” There was no longer any trace of congeniality in the monk’s tone.

  Just then, Voide and John slipped quietly in the door behind Brother Martin. He gave no indication he was aware they had entered. Molon flashed a brief but subtle furrowing of his brow to Voide. She motioned for John to be quiet and not to announce their arrival just yet.

  “I’m sorry, Brother Martin,” Molon explained. “There was nothing I could do. Dawnstar’s interrogator killed her moments after I arrived. In truth I was lucky to get John out alive.”

  “This is…unfortunate,” Brother Martin replied, gazing at the center of the table as though his mind had already left the meeting.

  Molon knew now only solid bargaining might salvage a partial payment out of this deal. He hoped the Faithful monk would be reasonable and they would at least get some compensation for rescuing John. While he was still mulling over where to go next, his faithful partner took the lead.

  “We recognize this is only a partial fulfillment of the contract,” Twitch interjected, in her best rules-and-regs tone. “And we understand if you feel the need to adjust the contract payout accordingly.”

  Brother Martin locked eyes with Twitch. He returned to a fully standing position but did not release his death-grip on the table edge.

  “You think this is a partial success?” Brother Martin fumed. “John Salzmann is a foppish dandy who flits through life playing at being a good Samaritan when he’s not camped out at a card table. He is useless to us, as he is to most anyone who knows him as more than a casual acquaintance. We issued that contract to retrieve Dr. Elena Salzmann. This is not a partial success, it is a complete failure.”

  John started to move in, but Voide quickly and quietly grabbed his arm and held him back. Molon was glad because he didn’t want the Doc in between himself and this rude, arrogant monk at this particular moment. Molon raised an eyebrow and drew his lip back into a lupine semi-snarl, which elicited a nervous glance from the frustrated clergyman.

  “I bet to differ,” Molon argued. “The contract, as written, was for both Salzmanns.”

  The flustered clergyman, apparently realizing Molon was still fighting only with words and unlikely to jump across the table and take a bite out of him, pounded a fist on the table.

  “Of course we had to issue it for the both of them,” Brother Martin replied. “I doubt Elena Salzmann would have taken it very well if some literalist mercenary had rescued her and left her useless husband behind.”

  “You know,” Twitch replied, her brow furrowing in suspicion. “That raises an interesting question.”

  In Molon’s mind there were far more questions than answers about this whole situation. Wherever his XO was going with this, he mentally prepared himself to back her play.

  “What question is that, Commander Richardson?” Brother Martin said, clearly struggling to remain civil.

  “How did the Brothers of the Lion even know the Salzmanns were missing and who had kidnapped them?”

  Twich could always be counted on to find the ‘gotcha’ in any situation. Molon knew legally the monk had them dead to rights. The contract had stipulated both Salzmanns. John without Elena was a busted contract and by rights Brother Martin could refuse to pay. Still, from the paleness in Brother Martin’s face following Twitch’s probing question, they might be able to wring a partial payday out of this after all.

  “W-well, you see…b-but,” the monk sputtered.

  Twitch had flushed their prey. The hunting instinct in Molon surged to the surface and he pounced.

  “Twitch is right. This contract is evidence you know more than you are saying about the Salzmann’s abduction.”

  “That’s absurd,” Brother Martin objected as his face went from pale to flushed.

  “Not really,” Molon pressed. “You see, Salzmann Pharmaceuticals, with all their money and connections, didn’t know. Even High Governor Perry had no idea who had taken them. Yet your contract states that they were in the custody of Dawnstar headed for the detention facility on Ratuen. How did you know that when no one else had the first clue what had happened to them?”

  Brother Martin settled visibly, cleared his throat, smoothed his cassock, and took his seat. He took several slow, deep breaths, folded his hands in front of him and turned toward Molon.

  Molon slipped his right hand into his lap, placing the automag firmly into his grasp. He saw Twitch had Plan B leveled under the table, aimed at Brother Martin’s midsection. They both smiled patiently at the monk, waiting for a response, but Molon knew enough to be cautious. Even the tamest animal could be dangerous when cornered. Brother Martin let out an exasperated sigh and finally spoke with a cool collectedness in his voice.

  “Your executive officer has a keen mind, Captain.”

  “No arguments there,” Molon replied.

  “It is perfectly simple, really,” Brother Martin continued. “The Brothers of the Lion have had Dr. Elena Salzmann under observation for some time. When our observers saw Dawnstar ships land and take them, one of the brothers managed to plant a magnetic tracker on one of the raider ships before it took off.”

  Brother Martin paused as if that snippet resolved the query. Molon and Twitch looked at each other. Molon could read Twitch’s skepticism in her eyes. It matched his own.

  “You see there, Twitch,” Molon quipped as he flashed a sarcastic grin at his XO. “Perfectly simple.”

  “Downright elementary,” Twitch agreed, following his lead. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

  They turned and shot a pair of patronizing smiles back at the monk. Despite their mocking, Brother Martin resumed his explanation as though he had intended to continue all along.

  “Upon leaving Tede, the Dawnstar ships proceeded to the registered jump point to Hatacks. Hatacks is too high profile a location to hide prisoners, so it wasn’t hard to guess they would push on to Ratuen where they would have privacy for whatever they planned for the Salzmanns.”

  “So wait a minute,” Twitch replied, crossing her arms. “You mean to tell me that you posted a high-paying rescue contract based solely on an educated guess?”

  “Yes, we did,” Brother Martin affirmed, with only the slightest waver in his voice. “We dispatched the contract on every System Express jumper leaving Tede in hope that someone would pick it up in time to make a rescue attempt before any ill befell Elena.” Both Brother Martin’s head and voice dropped slightly. “She was very important to us.”

  “Based on that contract payoff,” Molon said, “I suppose she was.”

  “However,” Twitch added, “that still doesn’t explain why you were monitoring Dr. Elena Salzmann in the first place.”

  John broke free from Voide’s restraining hand on his elbow as he stormed over to where Brother Martin was sitting. He spun the monk around in his chair and locked eyes with him intensely as John drew his face close to Brother Martin’s.

  “Yes, Brother,” John growled, “why were you monitoring Elena?”

  Brother Martin, clearly startled at John’s sudden appearance, flashed an appeasing smile. A slight flush returned to the monk’s face.

  “Oh, Dr. Salzmann,” Brother Martin said, fidgeting slightly under John’s proximity and intensity. “I’m so glad you are alive.”

  “Hah!” John exclaimed. “I just overheard how glad you are to see this useless, foppish dandy alive. Now answer the question. Why were you watching Elena?”

  Brother Martin stared unblinkingly at John. Molon guessed the monk was scrambling to figure out how to defuse this situation as diplomatically as possible. Molon’s ears flipped back as he released his pistol back into his lap. Outnumbered four to one, it was doubtful the monk would turn violent here. Twitch didn’t follow suit,
keeping Plan B aimed at squarely at Brother Martin just below the surface of the table.

  Folding his hands, Molon formed a toothy grin as the drama unfolded before him. John was more on fire than Molon had ever seen him, and the smug monk was clearly reeling. Molon couldn’t wait to see how this played out, even if it cost him a payday. At least the show should be entertaining.

  “We had been in discussions with her over her research,” Brother Martin continued. “The Brothers of the Lion felt it could be key to the war efforts against the Daemi and possibly one day even the Prophane.”

  John’s face went semi-slack, as though processing a distant memory. He stood up, letting go of the arms of Brother Martin’s chair.

  “I remember a couple of the Brothers of the Lion leaving our house as I arrived home about a month ago.”

  “That was about the time of our last discussion with your wife,” Brother Martin affirmed.

  “Elena was extremely upset after that visit, but wouldn’t tell me what was going on. She wasn’t herself for a week after that meeting.”

  “I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Brother Martin replied, sounding genuine. “We had no intention to cause her anxiety.”

  “Well you did,” John replied. “If she was that upset by whatever you were proposing, I can’t imagine what it was. Elena was no shrinking violet, so if you rattled her that badly, whatever you wanted must have been horrific. There is no way she would have agreed to whatever it was.”

  “Which may be why,” Voide interjected, stepping toward the table, “four Brothers of the Lion dressed like commandos just trashed and burned Dr. Salzmann’s house to the ground.”

  “What?” Brother Martin asked, jumping to his feet. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t deny it,” John snapped. “One was killed and the rest tried to kill us before running away. The dead intruder had a Fratres Leonis tattoo. That is the mark of your order, is it not?”

  Brother Martin extended both hands, palms down and motioned for calm as he sat back down at the table. He indicated empty seats, to his right and left, somatically urging John and Voide to follow suit.