only ever seen one of those before and its owner was a Fed agent?”
“Like I said I got it a while ago; hey Chub.” James said affably, “Do I look like a government agent?”
Jet had been with Chub too long not to know the signs that he wasn’t satisfied. “So what are you going to do with the image?”
“Find someone with access to the government data banks and run it through the licensing department.”
“Wouldn’t the crime database be better?”
“Actually Jet no; the licensing authorities have a more powerful sensor chips; it gives high enough resolution that you can use it for retina identification after accidents.”
Jet looked up at Chub, who gave him a told you so smile.
Back at the Galaxy Layby Indigo met them with more bad news. “You need to disappear Jet. The Galactic Militia have issued a required for interview notice for you.”
It wasn’t actually a warrant but if the militia needed to talk to someone bad enough that they issued an all ports directive it was as good as.
“When I heard I registered Chub as responsible for the Tanatalia.” Continued Indigo. “So for the moment they don’t know you’re here, but they do have agents everywhere so be careful, and don’t go anywhere your known.”
Jet did as he was told and went: at James’s insistence, to his rooms instead. The time passed slowly until Chub returned.
“Indigo’s right jet.” Said Chub. “Word is that you were involved; in fact I had a couple of offers to fence the gold if I could contact you. Shame we haven’t.” Chub looked at him expectantly. “We don’t, do we?”
Jet had to smile at his companion’s ever-present practical side. “No Chub; if we had we wouldn’t go around killing people would we?”
“Ah yea… Well just making sure. Oh and the other thing is that Rosie’s trial is tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Gasped Jet. “Why that quick?”
“The Feds don’t want her on the warship any longer than they need to. They recon they have a solid case and will give her the right to appeal at a later date if she wants to plead innocent.”
“Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?
“That’s only for folks who don’t take on the Federation.”
James arrived a short time later. He waited until the door was closed behind him. “Roberto, Graham, Delayne,” he said.
Jet glanced at Chub, as Chub repeated the name and shook his head. “Nope, never heard of him.”
“Twenty-seven years old.” Continued James. “He hasn’t lived at the registered address for over four years and there’s no update. He’s got several offences related to the transport of illicit materials... I cross checked those offences with the militia crime data base and it seems he was involved with the Black Light criminal organization?”
Again Jet looked at Chub this time Chub did speak. “I know of them. Yea it fits; they’re pretty secretive and executions are well in the filed of expertise…”
Jet looked at Chub as he described the brutality as if it was just a list of shopping. He saw James was more than interested.
“They are not the kind of people who like enquiries being made about them but I’ll see what I can find out.” Chub left the room.
It seemed an amazing coincidence that Beta-TelaIV was the hideout for the Black Light organization, and as the Tanatalia settled onto the spaceport Jet got a bad feeling. He withdrew into the inside of the spacecraft leaving Chub and James to do the arrivals documentation.
Jet had spent some time in the city during his forced stay, but hadn’t made any mental judgments. It was in a word bland; a little bit more frontier maybe, but in almost all ways like any of the hundreds he had visited. The center was brash, and outside there were several districts; families stuck to one that was probably the quietest; then there was the commercial, and as there always was, a seedy side where all the goings on that the families shunned were carried out.
Jet thought about contacting the cargo manager again but something stopped him; maybe it was that even here beyond the main reach of the Galactic Militia they would still read all ports directives.
Chub returned with news that Delayne was known, and that he hadn’t been seen for a while: the last time when he had left the planet in the company of four others. Chub even had their names, or at least their alias’s, with the exception of one. He was from off planet and had arrived on a company spacecraft.
“It was one of Benedicts ships,” said Chub knowingly.
“It substantiates Rosie’s story,” said jet in excitement.
James doused his enthusiasm. “No Jet, all it proves is that one of benedicts ships was here.”
“But it all fits.”
“Maybe it does, but it’s still all circumstantial.”
Chub had more to say. “Jet only one of the four locals came back, and he’s still here.”
Again Jets hopes rose. “We need to talk to him: you have his name?”
“A Pietre Boyde.”
“Did you find out where he is?”
“Not exactly… but you need to know he’s one of the Black Lights key henchmen: ex military special op’s, and a real bad-ass. From what I’ve been told he’s been known to kill somebody just because he felt like it.”
It was a while later: Chub and James were back in the city trying to find leads and Jet was in a small cabin trying to think when he heard somebody moving in the spaceship. At first he assumed it was one of the others, but whoever it was didn’t come to the cabin instead they passed by and went in the direction of the hold. Jet thought it strange and was quickly on his feet following. Turning a corner suddenly he was facing the cargo master. Jet looked at him wondering what he was doing, but without warning the man lunged at Jet, taking him off balance and they both crashed to the floor. Jet was stunned and the man got in several painful blows to Jets face and stomach.
Shaking of his surprise Jets training kicked in and he began to counter the blows. It quickly became apparent that the cargo master was far more proficient than Jet had imagined, and even deflecting some of the punches others still got through. Jet quickly realized this was no street fighter; this man knew how to fight: but so did Jet and now he began to fight back. Though Jet didn’t have time to think too much he knew they were evenly matched; he needed a tiebreaker. Jet threw his head forwards and smashed his forehead into his foes face. There was a sharp crack and Jet knew he had broken his assailants nose. It gave him the few moments he needed to get on his feet and take a fighting stance.
Blood was pouring from the cargo masters nose as he backed off unsteadily: he snarled angrily and threw himself at Jet but this time he held a hunting knife.
The weapon seemed to magically appear in front of Jets face and now he backed off, one hand grabbing and holding the wrist and blade away as far away as he could. Again they fell to the floor fighting with a single hand. The cargo master had steel capped boots and several painful kicks later Jet was feeling the pressure. He ached and was loosing strength; he couldn’t hold the knife away much longer.
Suddenly the cargo master eased his grip; his wild eyes took on an uncomprehending look and he slowly rolled over to Jets side to reveal Chub standing over them: a steel bar in his hand.
Chub looked down at Jet; a mean smile on his face. “I came back to warn you I found out where Boyde is; but apparently you already know?” He reached his arm down to help Jet up. “You’ll probably need that seen to?” he said looking at Jets arm. Blood was pouring from beneath a slash in the jackets material.
Jet tried to bring his thoughts together. “I don’t know what happened. I thought it was one of you guys then he’s onto me like a crazed animal for no reason?”
Chub bent down and opened a small sack. “This is the reason.” Chub opened the top wide so Jet could see.
“Gold?”
“Yep, Gold, and a fair bit of it too. Looks like our friend here slipped up; he probably thought us turning up was a bonus, slip a
bit of evidence aboard and that ties you in with Rosie; all neat and done: he should have checked the ship was empty first: slack, very slack.”
Jet looked down at the cargo master. “That’s if it was, opportunistic?”
“Na; can’t be sure but it’s too messy; he’s better than that; or was: anyway nobody knew we were gunna come here... Except James?”
Jet nodded and looked at the body. “Think he’s dead?”
“If he’s not he’d gunna have one hell of a headache.”
“We’re going to have to tell someone: is there such a thing as a militia post here?”
“Don’t even think about it Jet. A wanted suspect, a corpse, and a bag of gold dust; if we ever got off this place, we’d be old men; anyway I’ll have a hard time claiming self defense, by sneaking up behind.”
“So what do we do with him?”
“We can drop him off on the way back.”
Jet didn’t like the idea but he didn’t want to end up in prison either. “Shame we couldn’t have got him to talk?”
Chub shrugged. “People like him don’t grass.”
They dragged the body through to the hold, cleaned up and waited until James arrived back. They said nothing to him about the fight or consequences, and took off.
“It was definitely one of benedicts ships, and as far as I can find out the mans name was Krinski. I think we have a trail all the way back to Benedict now; it’s mainly circumstantial, but I think we have enough to shake a few trees and see what falls out.
Jet was never sure where
Jet Black - Gold #13 Page 5