by TR Cameron
He was a half-step behind Cia as she flowed smoothly past them into a large open space filled with storefronts that served as the intersection for a multitude of hallways shooting off in different directions. The ceiling was high here, as it had been in the hangar, making the corridors leading out of the area seem like they would feel cramped and confining by comparison. They paused to get their bearings, and he asked, “Master Rearden?”
She laughed. “You haven’t been around many civilian spaceports, have you? It’s short for shipmaster and is the appropriate title for the senior member of a given vessel. Usually that’s the owner or a designated representative.” She tapped the collar of her jacket, which had a pin with the symbol that was painted on the hull of the ship attached to it in about the same location as his rank insignia would be. “This gives them the first clue, and my name gave them the rest of what they needed to look me up.”
He frowned, thinking. “What about pirates?”
“They’ll still have a shipmaster. They’ll just also have a fake history and identification for their ship. Such things can be planted if someone knows enough about computers or has the contacts to spread money in the right places.”
He couldn’t help prodding her. “So, your family does that kind of thing?”
She sighed. “Knock it off. Of course we don’t. It’s not necessary since our reputation speaks for us.” She pointed at one of the food stands that had a seating area around it, with most of the tables full of patrons. “That looks promising. Let’s go see what they’ve got.”
They wound up with a plant-based version of burgers that were close enough to the real thing to make Jax upset that they were missing dinner at the Academy. Fortunately, the restaurant also had beer to soothe his ire. He asked, “So, what do I need to know about this place?”
She took a drink of her IPA and swallowed before responding. “I’m guessing it’s fully independent, based on what we’ve seen so far. That means we might see anyone here—Coalition, Confederacy, Alliance, whatever. It explains the no weapons rule.” He nodded. It does indeed. Although given that a surprisingly large proportion of the alien species humanity has encountered so far have claws or other weapons as part of their physiology, it’s also kind of an uneven playing field. “So, you’ll need to rely on your wits. Think you can manage that?”
“Har. You are so damn funny, I can hardly bear it. I can’t imagine how hilarious you’ll be when you grow up.” He’d been around her for long enough to catch some signs that made him wonder if she might be sensitive about her age. The obscene gesture she answered him with confirmed it. You’re in trouble now, sister. “Anything useful in that vacuum you call a head?”
She nodded. “Yeah. It’s not likely that we’ll turn up what we’re looking for by just wandering around at random. We need to find someone to pay for information.”
He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, momentarily distracted by the spiciness of the sauce they’d used, which made him recall backyard barbecues during his childhood. “Could we hack their computer system?”
“Could we? Maybe. Should we? Definitely not. Even if I was the best at it, there would be a non-zero chance of getting caught. You do not want to piss off the people in charge on an independent station, or you’ll find yourself headed sunward without a ship.”
He scowled. “That seems a little harsh.”
She shook her head. “What’s harsh is that they give you a suit that will prolong the experience for you, and they record your screams to use as a warning for those who violate small rules, so they won’t go on to break big ones.”
“Wow.”
Cia chuckled darkly. “Yeah. Wow, for sure. So, like I was saying, we’ll need to pay someone for information.”
He could think of several other ways to get what they needed, most of them involving at least some violence and intimidation, but chose not to bring them up. She had the experience here, and he was okay with letting her lead until and unless a more effective option came along. “Do you have a way of finding someone in the know?”
“I don’t.” She pushed her dishes away, pulled out her tablet, and tapped on it for a minute or so. “But I bet my family does. We should hear back from the office by the time we finish the second round you’re about to buy me.”
She wasn’t wrong. The device gave a small ping when his bottle was about half empty, and she reviewed it with a look of satisfaction. “I’ve got a name and a location. It’s in a commercial zone, so it shouldn’t be too risky.”
They finished their drinks and headed for one of the hallways. Jax made a mental note that having some of the sensors his Special Forces combat uniform offered would be handy. He figured he could at least recommend a few things to the Professor to help those who came after him once he was done with the Academy. Assuming we ever make it back there. You’ll be home in time for dinner. Sure, Maarsen, pull the other one. He asked, “Have any of your other jobs for the Professor gone awry like this one?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes, although it’s usually a much simpler solution. With most of the people I’ve done this with, the job would have been over at the drone. Report back and call it a day.”
“You know, telling me that several hours ago might have been cool.”
“You wouldn’t have taken that option. That’s not who you are. Besides, we’re here to learn, right?”
He nodded. “And hopefully not get killed in the process.” They emerged from the tunnel into another open space about half the size of the first one. It too had high ceilings, which he suddenly understood were for the psychological benefit of those accustomed to planets. Smart thinking. It’s possible I’ve underestimated the people behind this installation. He laughed out loud at the sight of one of the storefronts. “That has to be the place, right?” The shop contained some of the most ridiculous-looking “fashion and fashion accessories” he’d ever seen. Above the description on the sign was a name in a stylish script: Bernard’s Haberdashery.
She angled so their path would take them toward it. “You’re correct, but not for the reasons you think. Every station has something like this. For some folks, these installations are their first taste of another culture. This exposes them to a wide variety of possibilities that are sure to jog their brains a bit.” He stared at her until she grinned. “And of course, the stereotype of fashionistas liking to gossip has some truth to it.”
He laughed. “You’ve been around this kind of place all your life, haven’t you?”
“On many worlds. You need to look the part, and that involves adopting local customs where you can. You know that from your career, I’m sure.”
“Yes, but my options tend to be a little less plentiful, and generally, much less colorful.”
They passed through racks of garments in every color of the rainbow, and he imagined that if he’d been running extra sensors, it would reveal that the designs exceeded the human standard visual field. In the back of the store was a tall man, willow-thin, with a shocking mane of straight white hair falling to his waist. He tossed his head in what looked like a practiced move intended to communicate slight disdain and asked, “What might I do for the gentleman and the lady?”
Cia almost purred as she shifted into trader mode. “I presume you are Bernard. You must be, and your store is a reflection of your own wonderful taste.” She was referring to the suit he wore, which seemed to pulse smoothly between different dark colors, all of them a perfect contrast to the large silver necklace around his neck and the pale skin that showed above his collar and below his cuffs.
He smiled with a hint of genuineness to it. “Indeed. Shipmaster Rearden, is it not?” He must own a contact in the hangar who tells him what ships come in.
She nodded. “It is. I presume my family’s line of credit is good here?”
“Of course, Master Rearden.”
She stepped closer to the man and lowered her voice so it wouldn’t carry. “Perhaps for something other than clothing, as well? I�
�m new to the station, and I have some questions I can only ask of someone I can trust implicitly. I know that you are such a person from the reputation of your business, you being the genius behind it.”
Now his smile seemed real. “But of course, Master Rearden. Please, let’s adjourn to the back for some refreshments.” He turned, and at a gesture, a portion of the rear wall slid aside to reveal another room beyond it. “After you.”
Chapter Twenty
The back room was a luxurious space. Hanging tapestries on the walls showed verdant scenes, and a thick burgundy carpet adorned the floor. Several wooden cabinets that looked as antique as the furnishings at the academy filled in the edges and a round cherrywood table with four ornate matching chairs was positioned in the middle. Bernard gestured for them to take a seat while he busied himself in one of the cabinets.
When he turned back to them, he held a silver tray with three tumblers and two bottles. He set it in the center and sat down on the edge of his chair. “The clear bottle is Scotch whisky from Earth. The other is Rennasalarian fire spirits. It’s most similar to cinnamon-flavored vodka but isn’t cinnamon or vodka. I recommend it if you’re feeling adventurous.”
Jax accepted a tumbler of the latter, while Cia opted for the whisky, which was doubtless a gambit on their host’s part to indicate he knew more about them than they did about him. I sure hope he knows more than I do. I’m about as useful as a new recruit on their first day so far. His partner asked, “Shall we come to an agreement?”
Bernard waved a dismissive hand. “You may pay what you think the information is worth after you’ve received it.”
She nodded. “A criminal enterprise has stolen a package destined for our hands. We tracked them here and were hoping that you could give us some insight as to where they might be hiding.”
The pale man chuckled warmly. “My dear Master Rearden, easily half the station is given over to enterprises that one group or another would characterize as such.”
“Then we find ourselves in the right place, and in the presence of the right guide.” He smiled at the compliment. “The ship in question is the Twinkletoes, undoubtedly an alias.”
“Good Gods, one hopes so.” His eyes defocused for a minute, then his attention came back to them. “That vessel docked just before yours. Its personnel were seen heading for the section controlled by Clan Kerang.”
Cia sighed. “I had feared as much.” She turned to face him. “Pirates.” Returning her gaze to their host, she asked, “What can you provide?”
He shrugged. “Directions. Blueprints. Likely numbers. Historical information. Anything you wish shall be yours.”
Jax said, “We want everything.”
An hour later, he grumbled across the restaurant table at her, “Whatever you paid, it was too much.” They’d spent the intervening time reviewing the information the broker had given them, but it basically amounted to a lot of “mights” and “coulds” with a minimum of specifics other than the location of the clan’s enclave. The only truly useful thing in the array of nonsense the man had provided was knowledge of a service access in the back of the space and the appropriate codes. He might have gone into a mission with less intel than this in the past, but he couldn’t remember having done so. Maybe I blocked it out of my memory, which is just what I’m going to do with this affair after I have a little chat with the Professor.
Cia had talked around the idea of securing weapons from the haberdasher, but he engaged in a bout of deliberate misunderstanding that clearly communicated his unwillingness to provide any. Jax was impressed throughout the conversation at Cia’s ability to navigate the hints and currents required to close the arrangement. If you’d asked him before this adventure if he could impersonate a trader, he would have replied confidently in the affirmative. Now, he realized a whole layer of complexity existed beneath the surface that he’d not previously been aware of.
She shook her head. “We paid a fair price for what we got. Things on the outskirts are always more expensive than you think they’ll be. It’s a seller’s market.”
He reclined in his chair and stretched, then leaned forward again so they wouldn’t be overheard. “So, since they’ve already refused our desire to chat about getting the package back, I’m thinking we need to go in and take it. If you disagree, now’s the time to speak up. I can do this on my own if you’d prefer to return to the ship.”
“I’m with you. It’s the only way at this point, but we have to be as careful as we can. You don’t want to go killing pirates, especially ones that are part of a clan. That gets the entire bunch angry, and they carry a grudge like nobody’s business. That’s one of the reasons the Grace’s armory has heavy stun rifles.”
A realization clicked into place. “And since your ship is present at the station, it’s a pretty straight line back to you if something goes wrong.”
Cia nodded. “Exactly. Their lifestyle isn’t a safe one, so the notion that someone might break in and steal their stuff won’t upset them as much as it would you or me. That’s the game they’ve chosen to play, but if we fail to respect their other rules, it’s going to get really ugly afterward.”
He checked her eyes, but no fear showed in them. Still, he felt like he needed to ask. “Should we walk away? I don’t want to endanger your family over whatever this thing is. Or maybe we should call the Professor and check in.”
She tipped her bottle of green tea up and drained the last of the liquid, then set it down on the table with a sigh. “The Reardens will be fine. They’ll just disavow me. Standard practice. I’ll lose access to their resources until the situation is resolved, but nothing more. The clan would be foolish to go up against the collective might of the Reardens.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head. "I don’t want to call the Professor. For some reason, this whole enterprise is hitting my personal radar as a test, and I hate failing tests.” She finished with an expression that mixed resolution and irritation.
Jax grinned. “You know, the deeper we get into this nonsense, the more I realize we’re a lot alike. Let’s go inflict some non-lethal losses on the crew of the Twinkletoes and those who are harboring them.
He wasn’t prepared for how cold the access tunnel would be. Logically, on a rock in the middle of space, only areas that required heat would have it, but for some reason, that hadn’t registered. It wouldn’t be dangerous unless they were trapped inside for a significant amount of time, but his misty breath sent uncomfortable chills down his neck when he walked through the vapor.
The entrance to the tunnel had been in the rear of another shop, and they had waited until the proprietor was distracted and slipped into it. According to the plans, the corridor would let them out in a small area between the back of a building and the wall of the enclosure. Again, for temperature purposes, it made sense not to put the structures right up against the chilly walls.
He punched in the code, the vacuum-rated door swung open, and they slipped into what was essentially an alley. Cia had spent a little more from the ship fund, which he imagined must be running pretty low by now, to buy a small drone in a toy shop. She placed the object on the ground, opened her tablet, and guided it upward to take a look at the space.
He watched over her shoulder as the device showed three square two-story buildings arranged in a rough semicircle facing the tunnel that led into the enclave. Common territory filled the rest of the area, with chairs and benches, a game of dirt darts on one side, and a large display set up on the other, suitable for a group to gather and watch. Folding seats positioned in uneven rows faced the screen.
The area wasn’t crowded as such, but a dozen people or so were visible. Two of them acted as guards at the mouth of the enclosure, and he assumed there would be a couple more at the other end of the tunnel. The rest ate, drank, talked, or napped as their individual desires dictated. The tracking device had stopped working immediately after they entered the hangar. Cia had blamed it on station-wide signal jamming, which ma
de a lot of sense, given the likely justified paranoia of those in charge, but it meant he had no way of knowing which person was the courier or where the package might be.
So the time was at hand to ask some people, hopefully quietly and probably painfully, to tell him what he needed to know. He’d operated in nonlethal scenarios before, and barring a life or death situation, he didn’t worry about his instincts or reflexes working against that goal. And if it is life or death, it sure as hell isn’t going to be me dying, no matter what lies beyond that decision.
He whispered in Cia’s ear, “Feeling lucky? Pick a building, any building.”
She snorted. “I say we start with the one in front of us. Fastest retreat to the tunnel.”
“Sometimes good sense is better than luck. Let’s do it.”
They crept carefully around the rear and stuck their heads out to look at each side but found no obvious entrances. If he’d had his normal gear, he would have identified an empty room and cut through the wall with a torch since the buildings didn’t appear to be made of particularly heavy material. Lacking that, the only remaining option besides a frontal assault was going up. They were prepared for that eventuality, having snagged a survival kit from another store that included a strong but thin rope and a grappling hook. The backpack it came in was on his back and had a number of other potentially useful items, but the hope was they wouldn’t need to improvise with any of them.
The pilot positioned the drone above the building on the left with its camera covering the approach to the center one. He whirled the hook a few times to get a feel for the weight, then let it fly. This was a dangerous moment in the plan, as the sound of impact and the scraping that followed as he secured it were both louder than he would have liked. He paused, ready to bolt until Cia nodded at him. They wore cheap comms purchased at yet another store but weren’t intending to use them unless things went to hell for fear of the signal setting off alarms.