In Earth's Service (Mapped Space Book 2) (6 page)

“I did,” I said, placing the niskgel on the table
as we took our seats.

He quickly calculated the quantity before him,
then said, “One hundred and ninety grams is the required amount.”

I reached forward and separated the ten gram
cylinders into two groups. “For the Rashidun,” I said, motioning to the larger
group. When his eyes settled on the smaller group, I added, “For the factor.”

Hajjar looked intrigued, as I knew he would. “And
the service required for such generosity?”

“I’m interested in a ship, the Merak Star. It
landed a few hours ago.”

The factor nodded slowly. “The Rashidun Souk is
fabled for its discretion, Captain Kade.”

“I merely seek information. Anything you might
know that is worthy of such a gift,” I said, motioning to the containers that would
more than double his annual income.

Jasim Hajjar’s eyes settled thoughtfully on the
niskgel. “Why would you seek such information?”

“It is a personal matter. A matter of honor.”

“Indeed?” he said suspiciously. “Forgive me,
Captain, but what honor is there among thieves and smugglers?”

I smiled sourly. “None, but a sister with child
requires a husband, even if he is a two timing, bed hopping, scum sucking, purge
rat.”

Jasim looked sympathetic, relieved that the matter
was something he could help me with. “The Merak Star is an infrequent
participant in our market. When she comes, it is always to conduct a private
trade, always with the same partner.”

“I see. How long have these trades been taking
place?”

He shrugged. “Two, maybe three years.”

“And who is the partner?”

Jasim winced. “A rather dangerous man by the name
of Rix. He will be landing later today.”

I nodded appreciatively, then pushed the smaller collection
of niskgel containers toward him. “Jasim Hajjar, my sister thanks you.”

We shook hands, then I headed out of the trading
post, through the tent market, toward the
Merak Star
. It didn’t take
long before I saw her bulk rising above the tents ahead, parked in an area cordoned
off from the rest of the Souk by a high tent wall. It hid what she was
unloading and was patrolled by four armed guards who allowed no one to approach.
It was not exactly in the spirit of unfettered trade that had made the Rashidun
Souks famous, but it left me in no doubt the Rightly Guided were being well
paid for their services.

Knowing I couldn’t get to the tent blind, I worked
my way back through the market, then out into the shallow swamp. The partially
submerged proto-forest was teaming with insects and lizards while the trees
were packed closely enough that I could sneak past the edge of the tent blind unseen
by the guards. Once past the tent blind, I crept back to dry land for my first
unobstructed view of the
Merak Star
.

She stood on six stubby landing struts close to
the tree line. Her two stern mounted engines pointed toward the forest while her
topside sensor array was fully deployed watching the sky. If she had weapons,
they were well hidden, but all four of her port side cargo doors were down,
providing ramp access to her internal holds. Cargobots were busily unloading
her, stacking sealed metal containers in rows between the ship and the vacant
half of the private landing area.

I zoomed my short, cylindrical monoscope onto the growing
stack, finding they ranged in size from small lockers to large vacuum-radiation-sealed
containers requiring two bots to handle. Most were unmarked, some had had their
labeling painted over while others had been left untouched, although nothing
could disguise the high grade security locks on many of them. One stack of dark
green containers were imprinted with the letters IRF – Indian Republic Forces –
the ground combat arm of one of Earth’s four great powers. Nearby, a large
black container was embossed with the words Nanjing Industries, the People’s Federation
of Asia’s largest armaments manufacturer. Alongside it were containers marked
with Naskhi calligraphy, the Second Caliphate’s cursive script, which my
threading told me translated to ‘seeker grenade launcher’.

Four cargobots emerged from the central hold
carrying a white domed structure the size of a small house, which my threading
profile matched as a Union manufactured mark forty one cruiser turret. The bots
carefully placed the big naval gun on the ground and returned to the
Merak
Star
for another load. It was an impressive collection of weapons drawn
from all four of Earth’s collective governments, but while gun running was
banned, it hardly rated an aleph-null classification. The EIS left such cases
to UniPol as there were usually no Access Treaty implications.

I was beginning to wonder if Tiago Sorvino had
overstated the importance of his find when a distant rumble rolled down out of
the sky, growing rapidly in volume, then a charcoal black ship passed overhead.
It was a squat cylinder with three large maneuvering engines mounted amidships,
external to her hull and equally spaced as if at the points of a triangle. I
recognized the hull geometry immediately, having ridden in her like years
before. She’d once been a navy assault carrier, a heavily armored transport
designed to land ground forces under fire. Her navy livery was gone, replaced
by blast scars and a ring of point defense polarity guns above her maneuvering
engines. As she came down, a single massive turret atop her blunt bow came into
view, dwarfing the cruiser weapon the cargobots had unloaded and leaving me in
no doubt, whatever she’d once been, she was now a brawler with a punch no navy
frigate could match. My threading had no record of such a ship operating in
this part of Mapped Space, perhaps because anyone unlucky enough to cross her
path had not lived to tell the tale.

When her thrusters fell silent, the black assault
carrier stood like a dark fortress, looming above the fourteen thousand tonne
Merak
Star
, and no doubt drawing a few apprehensive looks from the smugglers in
the Rashidun Souk. Before the dust had settled, an armored door lowered to form
a ramp wide enough for the heaviest combat vehicles and revealing the thickness
of her armored hull. With all that mass, she’d fly like a pig, but she’d be the
devil in a fight.

A woman in tight fitting, bright red body armor appeared
wearing a gun slung low to her thigh. She wore a slender commband which wrapped
across the right side of her forehead and vanished beneath her auburn hair. Two
well armed men in bulky, mismatched battle armor followed her across to the
stacked containers. A moment later, Domar Trask, Julkka Olen and Stina Kron emerged
from the
Merak Star
. They were followed by an unarmed spacer who looked
like he’d rather be anywhere else than there. I cranked up my bionetic listener
to maximum gain as Trask and the red suited woman met.

“You were supposed to have finished unloading
before we landed,” the woman snapped. “You know Rix hates being on the ground
longer than necessary.”

“What Rix wants isn’t my concern,” Trask replied
coldly.

“If we’re caught down here, you’ll be the first to
die. I promise you.”

“Spare me your threats, Anya,” Trask said,
genuinely unconcerned. “Every ship here is slower than the Cyclops. You’ll have
plenty of time to run if there’s a raid.”

That must have been why they picked the Souk, to
use the other ships as interference while they got away.

“Rix wants a report on the security breach,” Anya
said.

“We took care of it,” Trask snapped. “That’s all
he needs to know.”

“Our agent said a crewman hacked the Merak Star’s
nav log. That puts us at risk!”

“If your man had waited at Nisport, instead of
running as soon as your ship picked him up, he’d know we eliminated Sorvino and
recovered the data taps.”

“He didn’t run. We only made this rendezvous
because he left when he did,” she said coldly. “Did this Sorvino communicate
with anyone?”

“Only his maker!” Julkka Olen said with a cruel
grin.

“There was a trader in the street,” Kron reminded
him.

“Yeah, but I cracked his head like an egg,” Olen boasted.
“He’s as dead as Sorvino.”

Good thing Julkka Olen was not well acquainted
with Nisk medical technology.

“Who was he working for?” Anya demanded.

“His snooper-tech was mil-spec,” Kron replied.
“Too fancy for UniPol. Could have been naval intelligence.”

Anya’s eyes flared with anger. “Rix will have your
head if you lead Earth Navy to us!”

“You Drakes worry too much,” Trask said
dismissively.

Drakes? They were the Pirate Brotherhood faction
operating in Outer Draco. Anya and her two gun humpers looked the part, but I’d
never heard of Drakes cooperating with mercs before.

“So you killed the spy before you interrogated
him?” Anya persisted.

“He wouldn’t have talked,” Trask said. “His kind never
do.”

“Rix won’t be happy.”

“Rix is never happy,” Trask growled indifferently.
“Comes from sneaking around out here all his life, running from every fight.”

She bristled. “I wouldn’t say that to him if I
were you!”

“You’re not me.”

I tried DNA-locking Anya but she was just out of
range.

“How long will it take to load the Cyclops?” Trask
demanded, glancing at the black Drake ship as four cargobots emerged carrying a
polished white hemisphere almost as large as the cruiser turret. The bots moved
slowly, either in fragile transport mode or because the machine was unusually
heavy.

“If the Merak Star’s bots help, two hours,” Anya
said.

I focused the monoscope on the white hemisphere.
It was encircled by a translucent ring and had a flat base with a conical
protrusion at its center. My threading couldn’t profile match it and the
monoscope couldn’t even get a basic spectral read on its composition. With a
sinking feeling, I realized it was alien-tech, and by the size of it, no mere
trinket.
Aleph-null!

Trask glanced past the four cargobots edging down
the ramp into the
Cyclops’s
cavernous vehicle deck. “Where’s the other
one?”

Anya shook her head. “They didn’t have it. They
said it’ll be ready next time.”

“It better be,” Trask said irritably. “We’re
running out of time.” He nodded for his two merc companions to follow, then
started across to the
Cyclops
.

Anya glanced at her two guards, nodding toward
Trask. Without a word, they followed the three Orie mercs past the alien-tech hemisphere
into the
Cyclops
. Clearly Anya didn’t like Trask prowling around her
ship unescorted. When Trask had disappeared from sight, she turned to the
swarthy spacer who’d stood quietly by during the exchange. “Is the stasis
cradle ready, Nazari?”

“Yes Miss Anya, exactly as Captain Rix specified.”
From his accent and bearing, he was obviously a Cali trader. Perhaps he was how
the Drakes had gotten landing rights at the Souk. Considering their mutual
distrust, a lot of credits must have changed hands to stop the Rashidun and the
Brotherhood from blasting each other on sight.

Anya looked bemused. “Rix didn’t specify anything.
He knows as much about this stuff as I do!”

Nazari looked puzzled. “The instructions were very
precise. If they did not come from you, then who?”

“Trask’s technical advisor. I’ve never met him, no
one has, except Rix. Trask’s got ten men guarding him night and day.”

“What does Rix say about him?”

She laughed. “Not a thing. I’ve never seen him so
secretive.”

“Do you wish to inspect the installation?”

“No point. I can fly the Cyclops through a pin
hole blind folded, but this stuff is beyond me.”

Nazari looked puzzled. “I don’t know why I
couldn’t use pressure restraints.”

“Me neither,” she said as they started toward the
Merak
Star
. “So, how’d you like being cooped up with Trask for five weeks?”

“Mr. Trask is a bully, but he is not the one who scares
me. It’s that other one, the one they have watching me. He is a killer.”

Nazari gave her a frightened look, then they
passed inside the
Merak Star
and out of range of my listener. I waited,
but they didn’t reappear. Instead, the Drake cargobots loaded more alien-tech
aboard the
Merak Star
, then began moving the weapon containers onto the
Cyclops
.

According to my threading, the standard navy
complement for the Drake assault carrier would have been two hundred and
eighty, plus bots and a combat team of a thousand grunts. Fitted for raiding,
she’d carry at least four hundred with plenty of room for captured cargo. It
was too many for me to risk going after Trask, but the alien-tech was on the
freighter and her crew would be minimal. That’s what Sorvino had sacrificed his
life for, not a bunch of Earth weapons that could be bought in any one of a
hundred arms bazaars across Mapped Space.

Pocketing the monoscope, I crept back into the
boggy forest and moved through the proto-trees until the
Merak Star
stood
between me and the
Cyclops
. Based on what Anya had said, the Drake ship would
be scanning space, more worried about being caught on the surface by Earth Navy
than being spied upon from the ground. The smuggler ship would be doing the
same, only with less sophisticated sensors and with most of her crew catching
up on bunk time. Neither would be expecting trouble to come sneaking out the Permian
swamp.

Using the freighter for cover I darted from the
forest, under the
Merak Star’s
engines to the nearest landing strut,
then crept beneath her hull toward the aft most cargo door. The cruiser turret
and the stack of weapon containers obscured the door-ramp from the
Cyclops
while my bionetic listener confirmed no human sounds were coming from inside
the freighter’s cargo hold. Satisfied I was alone, I pulled myself up onto the
ramp and slipped inside.