NASTRAGULL: Pirates (37 page)

"Very good. Let's get the rest of this cargo into my ship, and then we'll go looking for this Lady Padda of yours. I don't have time for any bullshit, so let's be clear here: this is the amount I'm going to give you, but only if you can get me both of them." He handed her another debit card, which she swiped through her wristcomp's reader. Her eyebrows went up. "Very nice," she noted, "but you haven't activated your transfer."

"That's because I haven't told you what to do yet, now have I? And you haven't gotten me my merchandise yet either." Alec took the trader under her arm and walked away, while making sure no one was listening to their conversation.

Captain Zlo gestured for his security people to begin loading the slave blocks onto the ship. The women were strangely silent, but their eyes held a faint hope that, somehow, their lives were about to improve. Behl walked up to Zlo, followed by Pier.

The Marengan looked askance at Behl. "He's not going to give another speech, is he?"

Behl snorted. "Hell, he'd better not, or we'll be stuck here forever." He looked over the women who were being loaded onto the ship.

Captain Zlo smiled mirthlessly. "Any orders? What we are supposed to do with all these...people?"

"Let them stay where they are. I'm sure we'll have 'em up and running soon."

"Good luck trying to find your friends."

"Thanks, Zlo." Behl ambled off, followed by Pier and two of his fellow security officers, and the little group joined the slave trader and Alec at the door of the hanger. After a quick jawing session, they left.

It didn't take long before the rumors were flying about a mad Oman who bought slaves and set them free—and to top it off, gave them more money than an average person earned in a year upon their release. The news spread like a forest fire through the entire population of New Frontier 16. Some people thought it a noble gesture, while others considered it a threat to the slave trade. Most people didn't care, and knew that eventually even these rumors would fade. Some individuals, of course, listened more intently than others. One of these individuals was an
old woman who called herself Coco Cabelle. Under another name she had been a Marengan pirate hunter—or, as most of her prey called them, a Predator. Coco was currently the head of security for the entirety of New Frontier 16. Her contract was with the citizens of the space station and the infamous Brakks, the leaders of both the Federated Merchants and the Commercial Traders. Coco's main objectives were to secure the space station from any threats, whether natural or unnatural, and to ensure its survival. This also included maintaining peace and order so that the outpost remained financially independent during its long journey.

It had been a long day, and there were hours yet before she could head for her quarters. When she first picked up the report, she looked at it with bored eyes; but those eyes soon widened, and she became quite interested in its contents.

Coco's life as head of security aboard New Frontier 16 was mostly eventless and boring, and she missed her old days hunting pirates for both Marengo and the Brakks. Oh, there had been chances for a little bit of excitement here and there, had she been willing to look the other way in exchange for filthy lucre. But Coco Cabelle was well-known for being untouchable. Not only could she not be blackmailed—her life was a completely open book—but any bribery attempt would result in a speedy expulsion for life from New Frontier 16, or, if she were feeling particularly cranky, a quick death.

Now, this report was something new and different, and she decided to take a personal interest in the situation's development. "I'll take care of this one myself," she declared to one of her officers, who saluted her and then left her office. She frowned as she delved deeper into the report about the young and very wealthy Oman. He had purchased a lot of 118 slaves of various species and had let them all go free. Then he'd taken ownership of a group of almost 200 female slaves, and looked fair to let them go, too. She smiled; good for him! Like all Predators, she loathed the slave trade—and not just because it was the pirate scum's most lucrative sideline, but because she simply believed it was wrong and against the natural order of the universe. She couldn't help raising her eyebrows when she noted the balance on the accounts maintained by the Oman, the result of the sale of several unique and expensive items, including tritonium silver artifacts.

Several different theories began to develop in the back of her mind regarding this young Oman. Might he be a pirate himself? Or perhaps he was a spy or a thief, or even a terrorist sent here to unbalance the outpost's financial system? Might he be a point man for a hostile takeover? He might be a fanatic of some sort; but then again, maybe he was just
nice
. There were a few good people left in the universe. She was completely at a loss with her theories, because New Frontier had never hosted anyone quite like this Alec Horn. She'd never known anyone to buy slaves and set them free; or at least, not this way, and not after giving them each a year's salary. Her astonishment quickly soured into suspicion, and she was craving answers.

A faint sound from her door warned her that someone wanted to see her. Coco avoided using a communicator as much as possible, because she wanted to be able to determine when and how other people could use her time. When she looked up, she saw her second-in-command, Major Lizza, and welcomed the crested Marengan in with a faint smile. The two had worked together for over fifty years before they had retired from pirate hunting and gone to work for the Brakks. "Urgent development a few light years away from us," Lizza reported, handing Coco a clipcomp. 

Coco paged through the report, and looked uneasily at her second. "An entire galactic fleet?"

"Yes indeed. We’ve confirmed that it is in fact Nastasturan."

"Anyone else know about this?"

"I don't think so, but it's only a matter of time." Lizza hesitated briefly, then said, "There is something else."

Coco nodded for Lizza to continue.

"There are more rumors than ever about pirate activities in the sector, and a number of important people have begun to voice their concerns."

"Have the Key Administrators contacted us about launching an investigation?"

"Not directly, but they've made it clear in a roundabout fashion that they want the rumors to go away. They claim they're bad for business."

Coco snorted and pretended to ignore Lizza's last remark. She tapped the report on the clipcomp and ordered, "Take a corvette and find out what the fleet from Nastasturus is up to. I want you to command it personally."

Major Lizza nodded, happy for the chance to get back into action, and left the office. Coco swung her office chair around and attacked her desktop comp.

From the moment she'd arrived at her new post, Coco had suspected that one or both of the Key Administrators were involved in criminal activities, specifically in association with one of the pirate clans. There was no damned way any backwater sector like this one could be entirely free from pirate infestation, not when it was so heavily trafficked. For years, Coco had sporadically investigated anything that might turn her theory into reality. But she had no real evidence of criminal activity, and certainly no proof, that she could connect to either Tobbis or Zala or anyone on their staffs. On the surface, the two were squeaky clean—or at least as squeaky clean as it was possible for mercantile royalty to be. But things smelled fishy to grizzled campaigners like Coco and Lizza, and she had a hunch that something was desperately wrong. Hunches like this one had made her a very successful pirate hunter, and she had long since learned not to dismiss them.

The Brakks who had hired her never mentioned having any suspicions of their own, and they certainly had not directed her to investigate their Key Administrators. However, none of the Brakks had seemed upset—or surprised—when Coco inquired about inside deals between Tobbis and Zala. They denied any such knowledge, but admitted it was possible. "Protect our investment," was all they'd told her. They didn't seem to care how she did it.

So protect their investment she would, in any way she saw fit, as long as it was morally defensible. And for the first time in years, she had a clue that she might lead her to cracking this conspiracy, whatever it was, wide open.

The feral grin she wore as she tapped away on her comp would have chilled the blood of even a demon like Horsa.

Chapter
23

Over fifty thousand people crowded the spherical stadium, cheering lustily when their favorite team scored again. A moment later the Asteroid players left their chaotic huddle, and took up their hovering positions within the globe-shaped arena. There were fifteen players on each team, and one goal that constantly and randomly changed its position near the middle of the sphere. As the fans waited in breathless anticipation, a new asteroid shot out from an opening in the ceiling, and the players rushed it with great enthusiasm.

The players, both offensive and defensive, were equipped differently, depending on their positions. They resembled astronauts from the ancient days of the First Awakening, when the ancestors of all the Oman races first ventured away from the semi-mythical home world. Most of their uniforms were padding and armor, because the fighting among them was fierce. As one of the offensive players reached for the ball, a defensive player slashed at his arm with a long halberd; the wide, ax-like blade at the end was finely-honed, and penetrated the first player's suit sufficiently to just about take his arm off. Trailing blood, the injured player dropped the ball and dove for an opening in the wall before he could bleed out. A replacement player shot out from another opening, and immediately entered the fray.

The crowd went berserk as the fine red mist settled onto them; they seemed unconcerned about the injured player, so Alec assume that the damage to the man's arm was easily repairable. He'd been informed that organ cloning and stim rejuvenation were common practices in this sector.

Alec and Lady Fuzza sat in a VIP box, with several security personnel standing behind them. They were enjoying the game. Alec explained the rules with an eagerness of a child to Lady Fuzza, who looked on with somewhat less enthusiasm. As the game wound down toward halftime, the door behind them irised open, and in came Captain Behl, Pier, the trader who had sold them the pirate women, and two other people they hadn't met before.

Alec immediately noted the change in Behl. His happiness couldn't go unnoticed. He was grinning as Alec and the Lady stood up, and said grandly, "Allow me to introduce to you, Alec Horn, the
Bright Star
's First Officer Celestine Brown, and the ship's Chief Medical Officer, Phalaxor." Alec grinned delightedly and made nice with the two sailors as he looked them over. Brown was a well-built woman who appeared to be a Herrier, like Behl, though she had a fluffy tail something like a fox's; apparently she was a transgenic Oman. He could tell from the charisma she radiated that she had a very strong personality, and looked forward to getting to know her better. Phalaxor was a slender non-omanoid of a type Alec had never seen before; he had three legs and two arms, each tipped with three thick digits. His large face bore a camouflage motif in green and brown, and seemed fused into a permanent wry grin, like a dolphin's.

"I'm delighted to see that you found some of your crew," Alec remarked, after welcoming Brown and Phalaxor aboard.

"All thanks to our trader here, who still refuses tell me her name."

"My number is sufficient, and I never get personal with my clients," the trader said dryly.

They were interrupted as another goal was made; thousands of people screamed their approval. Alec gestured for everyone to have a seat, and for the trader to sit next to him. Lady Fuzza gave up her seat and walked over to Pier.

"Any news on the two female pira...um, the merchandise?" Alec asked, his heart sinking as he noted the grim expression on the trader's face.

"I have found one of them," she admitted, "but the other will be...difficult."

Alec looked at the trader curiously.

"One of the items is over there." The trader pointed with a long green-tinged finger towards a skybox opposite them.

"Who is it? I can't see from here."

"I forgot about your poor Oman eyesight, sir. Sorry." She didn't sound sorry. "Here, use these." She removed a small pair of binoculars from the back of the seat in front of them, handed them to Alec, and instructed him on where to aim them.

As he focused in, Alec saw a large box where both of the Key Administrators sat, in the company of several  Omans and a number of more exotic races. It wasn't difficult to figure out that the giggling grayish-green lump on one end of the row was Padda. The alien's laughter made her entire fat body tremble in convulsions. Two young and attractive girls—one a slender saurian type and the other a standard Oman with short, dark hair and a prominent tattoo on the side of her head—tended Padda. The Oman was Nina; Alec recognized her immediately. The beast they massaged was so big that the girls seemed tiny in comparison.