The Xulon commented from time to time.
The King pointed to his two aliens friends and they seemed to nod. And if Starret could properly discern their facial expressions, they looked pleased. But if they looked pleased, Starret thought, chances are any decent humanitarian race would not be pleased at all.
Chapter 10
Stephanie Aug raised her head when the knock came. She was relaxing, stretched out on the motel sofa, reading. She was not one for fancy dresses. She wore her military fatigues with boots on her feet. The motel was five-star. The management didn’t spare any expense. So why, she wondered, would anyone be knocking?
“Who is it?” she yelled.
“Room service, ma’am. Gifts complimentary of the house.”
She shrugged. Majaste must have ordered some presents for her. Well, he should. She was going to send a great deal of money his way. She dropped her book on the coffee table.
As she opened the door, she spied the glint of the knife. She whirled around. The assassin’s blade sliced through the air. But her boot had already viciously kicked the door. When it slammed into the assassin’s wrist, he howled. Stephanie whipped out her own knife and sliced several fingers, the blood dripping on the deep red carpet. The door banged into her, knocking her to the ground. She rolled as a second knife whizzed through the air and plunged into the carpet. By that time her knife was in the air. It thunked into the chest of the second assailant. He staggered two steps then fell.
As Stephanie went into a fighting stance, the third man, with an ugly scarred face, pulled out the mini-sword. Stephanie took a half-step back. It was one of the few times she didn’t immediately recognize a weapon. The assailant jabbed at her but only touched air. She leaped up on the sofa. He approached cautiously.
He must be a Berac, Stephanie thought. Two arms, two legs, humanoid, but longer arms than humans. Massively ugly to human eyes. Large eyes, skin that was leathery and smelled like a two-day old sewer. He jabbed again, but Stephanie evaded the thrust. He looked nervously toward the open door. A noise sounded in the distance. The Berac looked even more nervous.
Of course, Stephanie thought. Security might be coming.
“You don’t have much time left. I can hear running. Why don’t you just give up? It’ll save you some hurt.”
His response was another lunge. Stephanie somersaulted through the air, landing on the coffee table. Her leg kick caught his chin. Spit and a sharp incisor flew through the air. Blood ran from his mouth. He yelled and swung the sword.
Stephanie ducked and yelled, “I want you alive, you son of a Berac whore. Don’t make me kill you.”
He missed with his next lunge. Stephanie didn’t. Her kick smashed into his knee. Bones crunched. The Berac yelled in agony. He wobbled on his smashed knee but didn’t go down. Stephanie rushed in, but yanked herself back when the blade whizzed within two inches of her jaw. He hobbled two more steps. As Stephanie moved in, he swung again.
Damn, Stephanie thought. Beracs do have a reputation for toughness, and they’ve earned it.
More noise and running could be heard in the distance. Getting closer. Stephanie stepped back two steps. “You can’t run, and you can’t hide. Drop the sword.”
The Berac shook his head violently. “Tell me what I want to know and you can walk free. Free pass to any planet you want.”
“No!”
Stephanie shook her head. The Beracs did like to keep a contract. It was something of a point of honor with a race that generally didn’t have any honor to speak of.
When the next swing came, Stephanie dropped to the floor, rolled speedily, and crashed into her opponent’s legs. She hammered his good knee. The Berac crumbled to the floor, dropping the sword. She quickly snatched it and tossed it aside.
“Ok, Waldo, let’s talk.”
“Name’s not Waldo.”
“It is to me. I call all bad guys Waldo.”
She screamed as she dove for the man’s hand as he yanked the vial from his coat and quickly drank from it. A second too late, she knocked it to the carpet. It fell empty onto the floor. Waldo spit and gagged. His body stiffened. He gave one last gasp, choked, and died. As he did, two security officers ran into the room.
“Waldo. Hope you rot in hell.” Stephanie said.
She rushed over to the first Berac, hoping he was still alive. But he had just enough time to drink from a similar vial. He, too, was stiff.
“Of all the lousy luck.” Stephanie said. She shook her head. “Hell fire and blue blazes.”
As the manager escorted her to a different, even better, room, he was full of apologies. He didn’t understand how the assault could have happened. The Beracs should have been spotted and lasered the second they stepped into the lobby. No one had ever been assaulted in the hotel before. It was terrible and…
“Yes, yes.” Stephanie said, waving aside his words. “I know it wasn’t your fault. But I suggest you check your security and check the people who usually check your security. And if you have people who check the people who check your security, try talking with them too.”
“Ah… oh… are you saying that…?”
“Yes, I am. At least it’s something to consider.”
“I assure you, ma’am, that I will have security guards outside your room from now until you leave.”
“Make sure you check them, too, before you assign them to me. As for my room, I trust it has an amp. I want a direct line.”
“You will have it.”
“And in fifteen minutes please have all my belongings transferred here.”
She closed the door, locked it and walked to the communications desk. After a brief time, Logan Ryvenbark appeared on the screen.
“Stephanie. Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. How are you?”
“I’ve had better days.”
“What’s up?”
“I need to ask you something, captain.”
“Go ahead.”
She stared at him. “Who would be trying to sabotage our trip to Vega?”
Chapter 11
Belen Morganthal showed a high-beam smile as Jim Mavers entered the room. He had an amiable smile too.
“Hello, Jim.” she said.
“Ms. Morganthal. Always a pleasure to see you.”
“Can I fix you a drink?”
“I wouldn’t mind a bourbon.”
“Why don’t we go into the conference room?”
A round black onyx table lined with silver dominated the conference room. A tall glass of bourbon was at one seat. Belen sat down behind the glass of wine on the other side of the table. Mavers eased down behind the bourbon.
“I assume we have business to discuss.” he said.
“Yes. You own a planet. I would like to begin opening negotiations for a sale. I have need for a planet.” Belen said.
“You’ve always been a very direct woman. But I guess all CEOs are like that. They don’t waste time or words.”
“Most of them don’t. But neither does Jim Mavers.”
“Sometimes I do. I’ve been known to waste time.”
“I want your planet, Jim. I need it. Other people need it.”
“I appreciated the tip, but how did you know Rosstt would toss the deed in the pot? That had to be more than a good guess.”
“Not much more. I’m a CEO, so I know a lot of other CEOs. I’ve known Dumars for years and I know of his affinity for poker. But Dumars has never learned and I suppose he never will. You should never play a game you’re not good at.”
“If that were true, I’d never play golf again.”
“You don’t bet on golf.”
“No, I don’t. I play games I’m not good at but I don’t bet on games I’m not good at.”
“That’s one difference between you and Dumars. He always did get carried away with poker. I have a source inside his company, and he told me they had just acquired a planet. When I heard it I knew this little planet was perfect for my needs. I didn’t think Dumars would
sell it. But I figured he might lose it. And I needed a good poker player to win it. I figured you were just the man for the job. A gambler who’s on the side of the angels.”
“I’m not lined up with the angelic band yet. I’ve just been offered $50 billion for the planet.”
Belen sipped the wine. “But there is much more to the Jim Mavers I know than mere money. You could have made even more money on Kargar but you did the right thing. I’m hoping you will do the right thing again.”
“Doing the right thing twice in three months is a high percentage for me. Besides, we cannot call $50 billion ‘mere money’. $50 billion dollars is a whole, whole lot of money. I’d be one of the richest men in the galaxy. That would carry many benefits with it.”
“What would you do with all that money, Jim?”
Mavers laughed and smiled. “Spend it.”
Belen shook her head. “It would take all the suspense out of poker, Jim. You love the game. Having all that money would make winning or losing at poker a matter of utter indifference.”
“No, there’s always the thrill of the game.”
“The thrill of the game is connected with winning, Jim, especially when you need money. That provides a greater thrill. You won’t have that when you’re rich.”
“I’ll make out.”
Mavers took another swig of his drink. “Now that we have exchanged pleasantries, how much are you offering?”
“Two billion. And the hope that you will make a humanitarian gesture and help save a race. A race of gentle, saintly individuals who are in danger of being exterminated. The two billion doesn’t match your other offer but it still is a good chunk of change. And you will have this wonderful, sweet feeling inside if you accept my offer. Money can’t buy that.”
“Belen, I believe in humanitarian gestures as long as they don’t cost me too much. You want this humanitarian gesture to cost me $48 billion?”
“But you’re such a great humanitarian, Jim.”
“The apostle Paul wasn’t that much of a humanitarian.”
“He didn’t gamble either.”
Mavers leaned back in his chair. He raised his glass. “By the way, this is excellent bourbon. The finest I’ve ever had.”
“Thought you’d like it.”
“I admit I am not altogether giddy about owning a planet. In the brief time I’ve had it in my possession I’ve been the center of a lot of attention, some of which I didn’t want.”
“I heard about the incident with the Xulons. Knowing the Xulons, that won’t stop them. They will try again. They won’t negotiate over a table with you and they won’t give you the best bourbon in the galaxy.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that. It’s one of the reasons I would like to rid myself of Bettaran as soon as possible. I should have known better than to accept a planetary deed in a poker game. I imagine there are any number of governments or empires or federations who would like to add a planet.”
“Imagine so. But you have no army, navy, or air force, Jim. You may need one if you own a planet. All you have is your winning smile - which is not a shield against bombs and missiles.”
“I can still sell it for $50 billion. Don’t forget that. But I’m in a generous mood today. Let me hear your proposal. Why should I give the planet to you for a song?”
Belen drained her glass and placed it back on the table.
“Have you ever heard of a race called the Aristolans?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Let me introduce you to one of them. Jaclyn, would you come out please?”
Chapter 12
After my conversation with Stephanie I sat at my desk for a long time, considering the possibilities. I didn’t like any of the scenarios. They all were a black road curving into a scarred land of mines and bombs and mutants. I bit off the end of a cigar, spit it out and stuck the cigar in my mouth. I flicked a match and touched the flame to the tobacco, then blew out some smoke. It was a shame one of the three assailants didn’t stay alive. Damn inconvenient of them to die. Stephanie could have pried out information from them. We needed to know who sent them. I didn’t have high confidence in the Jarnger police. I doubted they could discover who the mastermind behind the attack was. And even if they did, the Jarnger authorities could be bought off. We were, in effect, buying them off. At times a corrupt government can be beneficial. And there are other times when you desperately want an honest one. To be truthful, corrupt, dishonest, and inefficient governments are much more the norm in history than honest ones.
I puffed on the cigar again. I could think of no reason for anyone to assault Stephanie, except to stop our arms bargain and our trip to Vega. But no one was supposed to know about our trip to Vega. And even if they did, why bother to sabotage it? Besides Belen and perhaps a few saintly do-gooders such as Father Diego, who cared about two hundred thousand saintly souls on an out-of-the way planet?
Well, somebody cared. Somebody cared a lot. Actually, “care” wasn’t the correct word. If someone or some race or some planetary government wanted our mission to fail, then they wanted the Aristolans dead. But why? The Aristolans had never harmed anybody.
The three Berac assassins did not come cheap. Berac doesn’t have many tourist attractions. It’s a dismal little planet with nothing to attract off-worlders. Because there are no natural assets on the planet and no scenic tourist spots, the citizens hire out for criminal activities. Which is why no other planet in the galaxy accepts immigrants from Berac. Beracs are ugly and genetically defective. But despite all of their other faults they make swell murderers. But they don’t hire out cheap.
So who paid them to ambush Stephanie? Whoever the unseen mastermind… or perhaps masterminds… were, they might be tempted to try again. Which means I would need to dispatch two other team members to Jarnger immediately. To overcome three of my squad members would take an army and our opponent couldn’t have that much manpower.
But why? Why in the world would anyone care about our mission to Vega? Vega had had no contact with other Federation planets for more than a century.
Except… except… for a moment… Consider the impossible…
I very politely requested that Eric Norton, John Devins, and Fr. Diego take time out of their busy schedules and come to my office. In twenty minutes the three sat before my desk. I explained the situation with Stephanie, then told Eric and John that I was dispatching them to make sure our arms deal would be completed without additional problems.
“But there’s one more thing that’s worrying me, and perhaps you three can shed some light on it.” I said.
“We’ll certainly help if we can.” Norton said.
“Nobody is supposed to know about our rescue mission to Vega, and, even if they did, the question I am tossing back and forth in my mind is why they would care. Vega is basically isolated in a barren section of space. It is, for all intents and purposes, a planetary island onto itself. Why should anyone expend time and money to stop a rescue mission for a race that few people even know exists?”
“A good question.” Fr. Diego said.
“A very good question. But won’t the mission also pick up weapons that will defend Delta?” Devins asked. “The Critts will not like that. Perhaps they want to interfere.”
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