"I will," Yanik pledged.
* * *
The Shadow Wolf galley was unusually quiet and empty. This suited Miri, given her mood. She sat, quietly working on reducing her bowl of beef stew, thinking of every mistake she’d made in pursuing Kepper. I rushed in; I didn't consider the possibilities. I should've been more careful.
The door slid open and Piper entered with Cera. Both look fairly tired, coming off the end of their shifts on the bridge, and were undoubtedly looking for a light meal before getting some rest. They retrieved their own pre-cooked meals from the pantry and pulled the chem strips from the containers, triggering the chemical reaction that would leave the food at a hot, yet edible temperature. They sat at the next table over. "We lost Felix, now Tia," Piper noted bitterly. "We're going to get to the point where we can't man the ship properly in an emergency. I mean, who'll man the quads?"
"Maybe th' Captain can hire on some new hands at Trinidad," Cera suggested. "Got t' be plenty o' station folk lookin' t' become spacers."
"He hasn't hired a replacement for Felix yet," Piper grumbled. "He might've been a CDF spy, but at least he did his share of the work around here. It seems ever since the thing with Erhart, the Captain's just been flying on autopilot. Acting like there's no point."
"Losing Uncle Charlie wasn't easy for him, Piper."
"Maybe." Piper shrugged. "I don't know. It just feels like everything's finally coming undone around here. Tia was keeping the ship running, and without her…" The younger woman glanced to Miri. "Well, at least we have Miri. She was pretty badass back there."
Miri returned the glance with a frown. "Don't," she said.
"Don't?" Confusion filled Piper's voice. "You went all holovid action heroine on Allentown Station, jumping on that bike and chasing after that bastard Kepper."
"I acted rashly and foolishly," Miri insisted. "I underestimated Tia's kidnapper. I should've known it was someone of Kepper's caliber." She clenched a fist. Her wound, despite being healed, seemed to ache again. "I failed Tia, and I can only pray HaShem watches over her."
"You did what you could," Piper said. She leaned over and put a hand on Miri's. "We wouldn't even know it was Kepper if not for you."
"Sometimes ye can't stop th' crash; ye can only slow yerself t' save what ye can," Cera remarked. "Don't let it get t' ye. We'll get our First Mate back. Just as we stopped th' League at Lusitania an' that murderin' bastard Erhart."
"It won't be that easy," Miri said as she mulled the most likely suspect for ordering Tia's abduction. Adonai, I pray it's not them…
* * *
Despite her terror, Tia managed to doze off after a time, her body needing the rest to heal from the gas and the attack that knocked her out before. She awoke at feeling a shudder through the structure of Kepper's ship. She was certain he'd just docked with another ship or a space station.
For the umpteenth time, she tested her restraints. For the umpteenth time, they wouldn't yield. It's them. It has to be them. But why do they want me alive?
More to the point, what were they going to do to her? The thought of what they'd inflicted on her uncle and the other comrades chilled her to the core of her being.
Kepper appeared through the door. "We're here," was all he said as he freed her from the floor. He gripped her strongly by the arm and hauled her toward the door.
Tia's first impulse was to try and fight, to hit him, to do something, but she had no opening. With her wrists and ankles cuffed as they were, she wouldn't out-leverage him, and he could just activate the stunners on the cuffs if she started to get away. Could I knock him out in time? If I could get a grip on him and get the cuffs around his throat…
A jolt traveled swiftly from her wrists and ankles to the rest of her body. The pain drew a sharp cry from her throat. She glanced toward him to see he had the stun cuff control in his hand. "I can see the look in your eyes," he explained. "Don't even think about it."
Tia frowned and tried to force away the fear. She didn't entirely succeed.
He brought her through the airlock and out into a hangar deck. Tia still couldn't tell if she was being brought to a space vessel or a station. Ahead of her were armored security troopers carrying rifles in their arms. Her gut twisted at seeing the logo on their shoulders.
It was a stylized "R." Not just any version of that letter, but the one that matched the insignia on her stolen pistol.
Said pistol appeared in Kepper's free hand. He lifted it toward a figure appearing through the security troops, a large man in a gray and blue business jacket. His skin tone was darker than Henry's.
But it was his face that Tia's eyes focused on. Her heart jumped into her throat. She knew the face, she knew it. It was the trooper who killed Quoc on the worst day of her life. "You," she hissed in disbelief. "I killed you."
"Nearly so," the man said, a Franco-African accent still prominent in his English. He tapped at the right side of his face at the eye. As Tia looked more closely, she realized the skin wasn't quite the right texture, and the eye had a subtle glow his other eye lacked. It had to be a cybernetic implant. "You took my eye on the day we crushed your revolution. Another centimeter or two to the left, and you might have killed me." His grin's viciousness hid nothing of his hatred. "Thankfully, your aim was as bad as your precious comrades' that day."
"You didn't beat us by yourselves," Tia snarled. "The League told you everything about the revolution; you knew we were coming!"
"Which is to our credit," the cyborgized man answered. Even his voice sounded a bit electronic. "The League needed resources. It didn't need a broken world."
"You asked about this?" Kepper offered the man the Rigault-made pistol she took from him on the day of the revolution.
He accepted the pistol with a smile. "After all this time, it's nice to have my property back." He checked the weapon's safety before pocketing it. "Well, let us get the formalities dispensed with." He smiled snidely at Tia, every inch of the man oozing smug satisfaction.
"Welcome home, Tia Nguyen. I'm Antoine Rigault, Chief Security Officer of Rigault Heavy Industries and Commander of the Hestian Security Forces. In the name of the Republic of Hestia and the Hestian Business Council, you're under arrest for rebellion against the Republic."
7
The size of the ship he'd landed on impressed Kepper. It was larger than most ships short of heavy cargo haulers or military cruiser ships, and the markings were all Rigault.
The interior was more function than form, like a cargo or military ship, but that gave way to the opulence of the state room that Antoine led him into. It was like stepping into a suite in a fine hotel room. Velvet and leather-lined cushions of crimson tone were prominent, with the coffee table made of fine wood. One side had a bar visible and the other a pantry. A set of double doors further in led off to what was presumably the bedroom.
Antoine took one of the chairs and motioned for Kepper to take the other. "We are still a few hours from when you will have to leave us," he remarked. He brought out the pistol again and set it on the table. "For this, I will give you a bonus."
Kepper noted the way his employer's eyes glinted, both the natural one and the machine eye. "I had a feeling this job was personal for you," he said.
A slight grin formed on Antoine's face, but he said nothing further at the moment.
Kepper leaned forward in his seat. "A pleasure doing business, as always. Is this where we part ways, then? I'm aware you don't want me planetside."
"A regrettable necessity for the moment. Your… reputation with some of our trading partners would make your presence difficult for us."
Kepper was no fool. "You mean your buddies in the League of Sol wouldn't want to see me around."
"Among others." Antoine folded his hands on his lap. "You have made a number of enemies, Mister Kepper. The list speaks to your skill in what you do. But it does make your presence difficult for my superiors."
"Is this your way of telling me you no longer wish to employ me?
" Kepper asked the question with no emotion in his tone, since he felt none. It wouldn't be the first time a client decided they didn't need him anymore. So long as said client didn't try to kill him, he was more than happy to honor their wishes in that respect.
Antoine shook his head. "No, you misunderstand me. I cannot have you on the planet, that is all, but I wish to retain your services. There is a potential job on Trinidad Station that might come your way, should other factors not play out as I desire."
"Trinidad Station." Kepper considered the locale. A pirate station that wasn't quite so piratey these days, given their government was recognized by Lusitania and some of Lusitania's closest trading partners. Getting in and out cleanly might be a challenge, but he was certain he could meet it. "Is the mark to be bagged or tagged?" Knowing if he was out to kill the mark or capture them would influence his escape plans should he go in.
"Either is possible, but I can say no more at the moment. You are a contingency on this matter, one I hope to count on."
"As long as the pay is good," Kepper remarked.
"It will be, and there are other considerations for you."
"Such as?"
Antoine had what he must have thought was a knowing look on his face. "It is said you have certain… interests. I can promise you that Hestia provides for quite a population of people to meet your needs. The native population of the planet is arguably higher than it needs to be, and there are many Hestians in the service sector that wouldn't be missed should you wish to… indulge."
Kepper frowned at that. His urges were a tightly kept secret to protect his reputation. Whenever he gave in to them, he cleaned up as necessary and took effort to hide the remains of his victims, and he never breathed a word to others.
The irritation that Antoine had any idea of those urges was magnified by the disgust he felt at the offer. Antoine was offering to feed his own employees, or those of his partners, to Kepper. As if he was a prized hound being fed choice meats. This reduced the man's stature in his eyes, making him feel contemptible to Kepper's sensibilities. Professionals shouldn't turn on their own employees, not like that.
He noticed the surprise that appeared on Antoine's face. He could see the disgust, the contempt, and the irritation, undoubtedly. "I apologize," Antoine remarked, his tone betraying the extent of his surprise. "I misjudged you."
"You did," Kepper remarked coldly.
"It was not intended. I don't wish to insult you, Mister Kepper. I value your skills too highly. I have other plans, plans for the future, and I'm willing to pay for your place in bringing them about. I need good people more than ever. And you are the best."
Kepper narrowed his eyes for a moment. But only a moment. Antoine's sincerity was as clear as his ambitions. Kepper could work with the ambitious, so long as they respected him, and Antoine clearly hinted at that.
The pay is good, and the jobs fit them. With that in mind, he noted, "Well said, Mister Rigault. For the time being, I'm still your man."
"Excellent." Antoine grinned. "We're going to change the galaxy, Mister Kepper. One step at a time."
Kepper nodded. And if I don't like the way you're doing it, I'll do to you what I did to my last treacherous employer.
* * *
The turbulence of re-entry told Tia that the cargo shuttle she was held on was making atmospheric entry. Her guards remained quiet and foreboding, their faces hidden by the helmets they were wearing.
The turbulence gave way to normal flight, and within a few minutes, that ended with the rumble through the shuttle deck of a landing on a shuttle pad somewhere.
The guards came for her then. Her cuffs were attached to another chain that linked to the cuffs around her ankles. They led her through the rear door of the shuttle. Tia's eyes adjusted to the light outside as she made her first steps on her homeworld in sixteen years. They were on the roof of a building, and beyond, she saw the towers and skyline of Thyssenbourg.
This wasn't how she wanted to come back. In her dreams, she came back alongside an army of revolution to sweep away the unjust and corrupt order of the megacorporations. Instead, she was a helpless prisoner of that order. She had no expectations of anything good to come.
There were more guards waiting for her. "This way," one of them growled, and she was compelled to follow into the building.
They walked through sterile halls while Tia's uncertainty and fear built. What did Rigault have in mind for her? Why did he have her captured instead of assassinated like the others? The dread that followed her uncertainty filled the pit of her stomach and worked its way up to grasp at her heart.
They arrived at a door and forced her inside to find a bland, unfurnished room. The chains were removed from her restraints. "Remove your clothes," one guard instructed.
Tia bristled at the order and refused to move. This earned her a backhanded slap to the face that split her lip. The guard repeated the order and Tia again defied him. I won't give them the satisfaction, she insisted to herself.
She'd anticipated, even wanted, another slap. Instead, the lead guard ordered subordinates to hold her down. They took her by the arms and waist, forcing her into immobility while the faceless man used his combat knife to cut her clothing free, piece by piece. Once the last of it was gone, he barked, "Search her."
The search was thorough. Tia burned with fury at her humiliating treatment, but she was incapable of resisting with her restraints in place. She bit back the sigh of relief she felt coming on when the ordeal ended and the probing ceased.
But they weren't done. Two guards approached her holding up nozzles of some sort attached to a tank brought into the room. The others stepped away and the guards squeezed the trigger mechanisms. Two solid jets of spraying fluid shot out. The impact nearly knocked her off her feet, blinding her with what felt like a powdery fluid. She smelled the chemicals in it. It was a familiar smell, like the cleaning agents used on the Shadow Wolf. They're delousing me, she realized. Like I am some diseased woman off the street.
"Make sure you get every inch of the bitch," the lead guard instructed his subordinates. "You know how filthy these Hestians get."
"And yet we're still better at hygiene than you," Tia retorted, unwilling to let the comment go unchallenged. She was forced to turn her head away to avoid getting any of the delousing spray in her mouth.
She turned it back in time to see him stomp forward. The spraying stopped as he stepped between the sprayers. He grabbed her by the throat and delivered a rib-bruising punch to her belly. Her diaphragm seized up and she toppled over. He followed it up by kicking her in the stomach, leaving her sprawled out on the floor. "Continue," he barked.
The spraying resumed while Tia tried to breathe again. The smell of the delousing agent nearly choked her as they coated her in it from head to toe, leaving a powdery residue in her hair. All the while, she felt two of her ribs throb with pain from the vicious blow.
Finally, the spray ended. Two other guards approached and removed her cuffs. She heard the soft impact beside her and noticed the orange-toned pile thrown to her side. "Put on your new suit, prisoner, or we'll do it for you," growled the lead guard.
Tia quickly decided she'd rather not push them that far. Besides, she wanted to be clothed again. Silently, she unfolded the prisoner jumpsuit and fit it on as quickly as she could. It was a little baggy, but it fit well enough.
Once she finished dressing, Tia was re-cuffed and escorted from the room. She felt raw from the intensity of the delousing spray, not to mention the bruising from the blows she'd received, and her cheeks burned in fury from the rough handling of their search. The experience made her feel sick.
The corridors gave way soon enough to a cell block of some kind. She noticed some of the cells were empty, but others had other prisoners. Fellow Hestians. They all looked miserable, and a few looked her way without speaking as she was led by.
The guards ahead of her reached an empty cell they picked for her. They opened the door and stood to the sid
e as she was forced in. A hard cot and a commode were the only furnishings. Aside from them, the only extra feature was a metal ring set into the floor. Its purpose was made clear when one of the guards detached the chain that her cuffs were attached to in order to loop it through the ring. This would give her just enough length to reach the cot and commode.
The guards gave no parting remarks. They filed from the cell and shut it with a sharp clang, leaving her to her confinement.
Tia settled onto the cot and let out a breath. This was it, then. Sixteen years of exile ended, not in victory for her cause, but in captivity to the oppressors she'd sworn to overthrow. Their treatment of her so far seemed a terrifying harbinger of what was to come. Was she to be abused like her Uncle Guillaume and his comrades? Marched through towns and villages across the planet, whipped through the streets, placed into stocks, condemned to public ridicule and abuse? The holovids of his fate, up to the day he was hung, haunted her through her exile.
He kept his head high, she remembered. Indeed, one of the vids had been his treatment in their hometown. The people of Xom Lang initially refused to engage in the hurling of objects and other ritual degrading the corporate-puppet authorities demanded, even though it risked the HBC reducing food shipments to the town. They only commenced the abuse when her uncle spoke the words, "It is okay. You need to eat."
He was so calm in his suffering. He kept his dignity. Tia knew then that she could do no less than her uncle. They can hurt me, humiliate me, kill me. But I can keep my dignity. I can still fight. No amnesty. No easy trial. I keep my head up until the end.
Breach of Trust: Breach of Faith Book Four Page 6