“You see, Gabie...” Brucie heaved himself to his feet and with difficulty lumbered around the table. “I’m not happy with you.”
Wow. Fancy that. Gabie arched one brow.
He lumbered closer, the floorboards squeaking beneath his weirdly small feet. His long gown flowed around him, more like a huge tent than a gown. Stopping in front of Gabie, he shook his head. “You’re not very nice.”
“What’s this about, Brucie?”
“You sold me some engine parts a couple of months ago. Some very hard-to-get parts. Said they were good parts, came from a reputable dealer.”
“And of course, they were.” Gabie had a sinking feeling.
“They weren’t.” Shaking a pudgy finger under her nose, Brucie shook his head. “I was marooned in space, Gabie. Marooned. Do you know what that means?”
“You were marooned?”
Misha groaned behind her.
“It means I was prime pickings for a band of space pirates that came flying by.”
“Space pirates don’t operate this far in the Lawful Sector.”
“This band of bitches does.”
Whoops. Gabie had just the idea who that band was, too.
“Now, you can’t possibly blame me,” she protested. “Any part of your space ship could have failed—”
“One of the parts you sold me burned out.” His fat cheeks flushed. “You cost me a whole cargo load of expensive cloth!”
“Well, of course, I’ll take the part back to my supplier and get a refund—”
“I don’t want a refund!”
“You don’t?” Gabie didn’t like where this was going. She flexed her arms and the meaty hands tightened painfully on her upper arms. Oh no, she didn’t like where this was going at all.
Fury burned in Brucie’s little piggy eyes. “No.”
“I can’t pay for your cargo,” she stated, swallowing mentally. “You know we all take a risk when travelling with expensive things.”
“It shouldn’t have been a risk with new parts!”
“Now, now. Only one part burned out, remember?”
“Gabie...” Misha murmured warningly.
Brucie lumbered around the room, then turned and heaved his bulk back over to her. Stopping directly in front of her, he leaned forward.
Ugh. She leaned back a little.
“I’ve been the laughing stock of my friends, Gabie.”
“I’m really sorry about that. What bastards.”
“I want them to know I’ve dealt with you.”
Uh-oh. “Now don’t be hasty, I’m sure we can work this out—”
“Are you going to pay for my cargo?”
“I don’t have that kind of dinnos.”
“Then a little show so everyone can see I won’t be fooled with.” Brucie gestured to the hulks holding her. “Show her the way out.”
Jerked to the side, Misha yelled her name.
Gabie didn’t get a chance to call back before she was propelled backwards through the door, across the landing and pitched backwards right over the banister.
Never one to fall gracefully, she landed painfully on her back on a hard, wooden surface with a bone-jarring crash. For a few seconds she thought she was back out in space, because stars were flashing in front of her eyes.
“Gabie?” A concerned though incredulous deep voice queried.
Blinking, she became aware of the utter silence in the tavern. She was lying on her back on a wooden table, and six rakishly handsome, astonished faces looked down at her.
She’d landed on the Daamen traders’ table.
“Sorry.” Wincing, she came up on her elbows. Luckily the dishes had been cleared away or she could have been really sore. Landing on cutlery was never a good idea.
Several big hands reached out to help her up when a sound from overhead made everyone look up.
“You conniving, thieving bitch! This is your only warning, Gabie! Cross me again and you’ll be very sorry!” Brucie shrieked.
Oh yeah, like she was going to forget that in a hurry.
“Here, return this for a refund!” Brucie yelled.
Gabie saw a heavy, metal engine shaft come hurtling over the edge of the banister.
“Oh shit!” she just managed.
Two things happened at once. She flipped over the edge of the table at the same time three pairs of big, calloused hands pulled her. She fell face-down across the laps of three Daamens just in time to avoid being seriously hurt by the heavy metal part that crashed onto the table she’d just vacated. It wasn’t big, but it was damned heavy.
Instinctively she tried to push upright. Her elbow caught one of the traders in the groin as she struggled, her knee cracked another on his thigh and she flailed around like a fish.
Curses on benches. If they’d been sitting on chairs she’d have been able to get up straight away almost, but long benches didn’t give anyone any room. Then two big hands came on each side of her and hoisted her upright. The room spun a little and then she became aware that she was sitting on someone’s lap.
Turning her head she saw that Shamon was behind her, looking at her in concern and bewilderment. It was his lap on which she was sitting. Simon and Kel sat on each side of him, with Aamun, Heddam and Etol standing on the other side of the table.
“What the hell just happened?” Simon demanded, a frown on his face as he looked from the part in the middle of the table, to Gabie on Shamon’s knees, to the now empty landing above him.
“Bit of a disagreement with a customer.” Gabie tried to still her thumping heart and looked around in alarm. “Misha?”
“Right here.” Misha appeared at the side of the table, looking a little rumpled and with an empty laser holster, but none the worse for wear. “Brucie, that stupid bastard! He could have killed you!”
“Are you all right, lass?” Shamon asked in concern, his brown eyes flicking over her face, one big palm running with disturbing gentleness across her back. “Are you hurt?”
The warmth of his palm on her back made her want to arch back into it, which surprised her. It also made her very aware of her position on his knees.
“I’m fine. Honestly.” Placing her hands on the table, she tried to wiggle sideways. “Could I get out, please?”
Simon stood up and with relief she slid off Shamon’s lap and onto the bench. Oh, and the bench was hard, looked like she had a bruise where she hadn’t had one in a long time. One buttock must have hit the table harder than the other side.
Maybe Shamon could rub that for me? Stars above, where did that come from? Her brains must be more rattled than she realized.
Simon helped her up and looked down at her in concern.
“Someone should get the peacekeeper,” Torkra said, eyes wide.
“No, no.” Gabie brushed some dirt off her top and straightened her jacket. “It’s fine.”
“Like your friend said, that silly idiot could have killed you.” Shamon slid out and stood beside her also, his gaze going back up to the landing. “I ought to get hold of that idiot and—”
“Oh, not a good idea.” Gabie laid her hand on his arm. My, the flex of muscle underneath that tanned skin was intriguing. Shaking her head mentally, she added, “It’s all sorted out now.”
Paz and Olin stood to one side, gaping at her.
“Sorted out?” Shamon arched one eyebrow at her. “I suppose, wench, you don’t wish the law involved because of your... business?”
“Now don’t be like that.” Proud that her steady hands didn’t betray the fact that her heart was still thumping all over the place, Gabie gestured to Paz. “Grab the shaft and take it back to the ship for a, er... refund.” Not happening, by the way. Brucie, the fat slug, wasn’t going to see a dinno of refund.
Besides which, no one playing in the smuggling business asked for a refund unless you were at the top of the food chain. Gabie had no illusions that she was at the top.
One of the bouncers appeared beside Misha and looked at Gabie wi
th a mean eye. “You’re not causing trouble, are you?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
The bouncer just looked at her.
“We’re just leaving, in fact.”
“Good.”
“But we’ll be back later.” She smiled widely. “I just know you’re looking forward to that.”
The bouncer took a menacing step forward, only to be brought up short by Shamon stepping up beside Gabie.
“The lass would be the victim,” he rumbled.
That was so sweet of him. Gabie smiled up at him, which was a fair way because the top of her head only came up to his massive pectorals. “My hero.”
Heddam guffawed, then coughed and tried to look serious.
“Trust me,” the bouncer said, even though he looked warily at the frowning giant. “Trouble follows this female around.”
From the look on Shamon’s face when he glanced down at her, Gabie could see that he wasn’t going to argue that. She rolled her eyes and straightened her still trembling knees.
“Now don’t sweat it,” she began. “We won’t cause any pro—”
Her words were cut off by Paz going so pale she thought he’d drop the shaft. Both she and Misha made a grab for him, but he rallied fast and slanted his eyes upwards several times.
Gabie glanced up and saw Brucie glaring down at her. The fat slug. If he were alone, she’d go up there and kick his fat arse for him. But he wasn’t alone, so there was no way she was going to do anything about it.
At least, not right now. However...
Smiling widely, she patted the bouncer’s arm. “We’re going. I promise to be good if we come back. All right?”
“You be sure of that, else I’ll have your arse in the Enforcement Building so fast your head will spin.”
“You sweet talker, you.” Taking several steps away, she turned and addressed the traders, who were watching her with varying expressions of amusement and concern. “Thanks for cushioning my fall, by the way. The table was hard, but being across your laps was a real thrill.” She winked at Shamon. “My hero. You ever need anything, you come and see us, all right?”
Without waiting for a reply, just the stunned expression on his face was enough reward, Gabie led her crew out of the tavern.
“Now what?” Paz asked as they stepped out onto the veranda.
“Now I find a way to fix that Brucie’s fat arse once and for all,” Gabie replied.
“We’re doomed,” he sighed.
~ * ~
He slipped through the dark corridors, the sealed disc in the little pouch safely concealed under his tunic. Skirting the heavy furnishings, he finally came to the rear door and opened it. Peering out into the driving rain, he shivered, but not once did he think of delaying his journey.
Pulling on the long coat, he lifted the hood and stepped out into the rain. His figure was obliterated within seconds.
Two
“Is the merchandise all there?” Raznin looked up from the data sheet on the viscomm.
“All there.” Tason finished the calculations for the landing and stood up. “I’m going down to the hold to check that everything is ready and in place.”
Raznin nodded and watched his second-in-command leave the control cabin. Once Tason was out of sight, he moved over to the landing controls and double-checked the calculations. Never trust anyone, that was his motto.
After all, in his business, even he wasn’t to be trusted.
Smiling slightly, satisfied with the calculations, he returned to the data sheet once more, keying in the codes that would divide the merchandise up into safer loads. He didn’t want to risk anything going wrong on this trip.
~ * ~
Standing outside in freezing rain would dull most people’s enjoyment. Misha was a prime example, with her pursed lips and annoyed expression. Gabie loved the rain. It helped to wash away all signs of any... er... wrong doings.
“Why do we always end up doing most of our stuff in the rain?” Paz groused.
“Just lucky, I guess,” Gabie replied, peering through the teeming water to see the planet shuttle that had docked minutes earlier.
“We’ll die of the cold one day.” Paz sniffed.
“Rest easy,” Gabie said. “You won’t die today.”
“Why?”
“Because I order you not to. You’re not to die when we’re doing business.”
Paz sneezed.
Misha took a step away from him.
“See?” Paz looked mournfully at Gabie from under his dripping hood. “Even Misha thinks I’m contagious with some dreadful disease caused by the rain and cold.”
“It won’t be long now.” Gabie peered through the rain, and sure enough another spaceship lowered its ramp. “Get ready, people.”
They waited as several furtive figures in long cloaks slipped through the pouring rain to come to a stop under the dubious shelter of the Larceny.
“Nice to see you, Gabie.” The woman drew a long, thin box from under her cloak and handed it to Misha.
Misha held the box while Paz lifted the lid and quickly counted the contents. He looked up at Gabie and nodded.
Gabie held out her hand and the woman placed a tiny disc in her palm. Slipping it into the handtronic, Gabie studied the readout under the shelter of her cloak, and nodded. “Very good.” She gestured back into the dimness of the cargo hold and a small hover tray with a barrel atop came down the ramp. “Nice little swap, I think.”
“Most assuredly.” The woman grinned, showing four gold teeth.
“Stars,” Misha said. “You could always sell your teeth if you ever need extra dinnos.”
“Got them in a trade.” The woman winked.
“I’d like to know what she traded them for,” Olin’s voice came through the communicator in Gabie’s ear. “Ask her.”
Not a chance. “Good doing business with you,” Gabie said.
“Same.” The woman gestured to her two companions. “Load the barrel and let’s go.”
In the distance came the barking of several hounds and a muffled voice. A light winked at the end of the docking bay.
“Time to retire for the night, I think.” Gabie stepped back. “Looks like the peacekeepers are doing a little tour of duty.”
“Because they know where you are, Gabie, there is likely to be some other smugglers.”
“We’re bad, all right.”
“No. They think they might be able to catch some big smugglers.” The woman laughed and faded back into the pouring rain.
“That wasn’t a nice thing to say.” Gabie walked up the ramp and into the dryness of the cargo hold.
“But true.” Misha shook out her cloak and hung it on the hook partway down the cargo hold.
“Our cover is being small-time,” Gabie began, and then laughed when Paz shook his head. “Who gives a vagrat’s arse whether we’re big time or small time? We make dinnos, we’re our own bosses—”
“You’re our boss,” Paz corrected.
“And damned lucky you are to have me.” Gabie hit the lever that raised the ramp, watching as it sealed shut, enclosing them in warmth and darkness. “Lights on.”
The cargo flared to brightness and she gestured to Paz. He brought the box over and laid it on the counter. Opening the lid, Gabie took out several of the delicate necklaces and held them up to the light, the beads winking their riches.
“All the way from the Outlaw Sector.” Misha admired a black sparkling necklace and held it up against her.
“Have it,” Gabie offered.
“Hey, a smuggler can’t be seen with this kind of thing on their person.”
“I’ll give you a receipt of purchase. Make it all legal.”
Gabie and Misha laughed loudly while Paz sighed.
Stashing the box in one of the metal cupboards, Misha engaged the locks and they all went up the stairwell.
In the dining cabin, Olin was already laying out steaming bowls of hot soup.
“Surprised yo
u could stay awake long enough to make it.” Misha sat down and inhaled appreciatively. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“It’s already way past my bedtime,” Olin replied, dipping a chunk of bread into his soup. “You’re lucky I stayed awake long enough to keep watch on the surroundings while you lot conducted business.”
“You’re a good man,” Gabie said.
Olin was a good man, she thought as she watched him eat his soup and stifle a yawn. True, he was seventy-five years old and had lived a hard life as a two-bit outlaw, but he was loyal to a fault and always ready to fly to the defence of friends. That counted for a lot in her opinion.
Misha was loyal, too. She spoke her mind and didn’t mince words with Gabie, but then again, childhood friends had that advantage of knowing you really well.
Gabie peeked at Paz. Mournful Paz. She’d picked him up several years ago after she and Misha had saved him from having his head pummelled in by much bigger boys on the outskirts of the Outlaw Sector. An orphan, he was built like a reed and didn’t expect much from life. Gabie was the first person to have cared and he’d followed her ever since.
A fine crew. A motley one at times, true, but a loyal crew. Gabie sipped contentedly at her soup. She had dinnos put aside and her savings were growing—and life was good.
~ * ~
The gurgling breaths weren’t so regular anymore as the worn-out heart stuttered to stay alive. Blood slipped from between the soft lips and the breaths grew fainter and fainter.
The woman bled out in the bed and no one knew until the next morning.
Her husband wasn’t happy. “Damn it all to hell!” Mellar glared at the bloodied corpse. “Now I’ll have to have all this stuff burned and new things brought in!”
“I will see to it.” His personal man, Cheran, appeared quietly by his side.
“See to it fast.” Mellar strode from the room. “Get the funeral arrangements made. I want her planted and this whole business over with!”
“Yes, Sir.” Cheran strode sedately by his side. “Something strange came up this morning on the scanning of the private computers.”
“What?”
“Someone has copied certain... delicate... matters onto a disc.”
Mellar stopped, his face like thunder. “What delicate matters?”
Heart of a Smuggler Page 3