AGU SCI 1: The Star Brotherhood (4 page)

"I'm not sure. Has anybody discovered a reason to stay?"

"Kathryn and I overheard a couple of freight haulers talking about being careful in this part of the galaxy because there was so much 'funny money' being passed around," Nelligen said.

"Bleadalto bucks, Uthlarigasset cifeds, or GA credits?"

"They didn't say. They were keeping their voices low because of rumors that talking about it will earn you a nap in a cooler at the Body Disposal Center."

"So someone is counterfeiting, but we don't know which currency," Brenda said.

"It could be any of them, or all of them," Kathryn said.

"If it's Bleadalto bucks, we stay out of it," Vyx said. "The currency is practically worthless because the planet's central government is only an empty shell and would never prosecute forgers. If it's cifeds, we should at least look into it or the Uthlarigasset Senate will be screaming that the Galactic Alliance isn't doing its job, and they'd like nothing better than for the GA to ignore problems in this region to increase support for themselves from the worlds here. If it's GA credits, than we can't possibly ignore it. And if it
is
credits, then either the Brotherhood or the Senesim Syndicate are probably involved up to their ears— or rather their eyeballs. This seems to tie in with what I overheard the other day." Vyx sighed. "This could get messy. But first we have to find out what currency. Any suggestions?"

"We should probably just continue what we've been doing," Byers said, "listening for gossip in taverns until something turns up. We don't have a single snitch on this entire planet."

"Yeah," Nelligen said, "that's about all we
can
do, unless you have an idea."

"There is one thing I can do," Vyx said. "I can go see Lippaula. I might get a clue as to what kind of currency is being counterfeited, and by who."

"He'll kill you," Brenda said.

"
This
teddy bear isn't so easy to kill."

"Do you know where to find him?" Kathryn asked.

"No, but I'm pretty sure I haven't seen the last of the group that
invited
me today."

"Won’t they get suspicious if you now seem eager to go?" Byers asked.

"Probably," he said with a grin, "so I won't appear too eager."

* * *

Less than an hour after Vyx arrived at the tavern, a Wolkerron entered and walked directly up to his table. The tall, thin, Hominidae-like creatures with long yellow faces and enormous, jet-black eyes were like Uthlarans in that they were remarkably similar in appearance. In order to positively ID a Wolkerron, one must check its toe prints.

In the tradition of his race, the Wolkerron bared a mouthful of sharp teeth. To the uninitiated, it might look menacing, but it was only its species' equivalent of a grin. "Good morning, Trader," it said.

"Do I know you?" Vyx asked.

"Not yet, but I'm hoping to change that. I'm a jobs broker."

"And what kinds of jobs are you pedaling today?"

"I have a number of very fine listings. For example, if your references are satisfactory, the Raiders are always looking for support ships."

"Sorry, not interested. Ker Blasperra tried to get me to sign on with the Raiders annuals ago. I told him what I've just told you."

"Ker Blasperra? In Region One?"

"Yeah."

"My word, it's been ages since I've seen him or even spoken to anyone who had talked to him. How is he?"

"I haven't seen him in annuals, but he seemed healthy and prosperous back then. That was when the Milori had first attacked the GA."

"Ah, yes. He was on Kethewit back then."

"Perhaps before I met him. He was on Scruscotto during the time I knew him."

"Quite right, quite right. I'd forgotten he moved to Scruscotto when the GA expanded its territory and changed the Frontier Zone. Did you do much business with him?"

"We had several very satisfactory business dealings."

"My cousin has always been a shrewd businessman and enjoys a good reputation for fair dealings."

"Your cousin? As in familial? Or simply race?"

"We are family. Oh, gracious, I never introduced myself properly. I'm Ker Blaswetta. Ker Blasperra is my father's cousin's son. So in Terran terms I think you would call him a second cousin, or possibly a 'cousin once removed.' My, what a small galaxy this is becoming."

"Uh— yeah. Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Ker Blaswetta."

"As am I to make your acquaintance, Trader Vyx. So I take it you don't like to deal with the Raiders?"

"I don't trust them ever since Shev Rivemwilth cheated me."

"Rivemwilth? I remember my cousin telling me about him. He was killed by Space Command, wasn't he?"

"No. Space Command merely found his corpse in a disabled ship loaded with illegal weapons. He hired me to move those weapons, then stole my freighter and left me stranded on a moon in Region One to await pickup by Tsgardi slavers. But he didn't live long enough to gloat. No one cheats Trader Vyx and lives to talk about it. The ship was booby-trapped, and if a timer wasn't reset every so often—. Well, anyway, he got my ship, but I got my revenge."

"I remember now. My cousin told me that Rivemwilth had tried to cheat a dangerous Terran, and the Terran exacted justice. It seems the reputation you're gaining here as a most dangerous Terran would appear to be deserved."

"Only to people who try to harm me or my associates, or who try to cheat me. I don't give second chances."

"Everyone in town is talking about your fight with Makkod. I can't say I'm sorry he's gone, and no one will mourn his passing. He was a sadistic bully who enjoyed beating people physically weaker than himself. He eventually learned what all bullies discover— there's always someone tougher or faster."

"That's always been true, but some people forget it at times."

"You shouldn't fear being cheated by me, Trader. The continued success of my business requires that I deal fairly at all times. As with my cousin, I only broker deals between reputable customers and respected smugglers and freight haulers. Full payment must be made to me before the deal commences so its guaranteed if service is satisfactory. Payment is made as soon as the customer announces they are satisfied, unless there are issues. If that happens, I arbitrate a settlement. I only make a commission from the investment of the funds until the deal is complete, or as a fee after a person is hired and the customer is satisfied with the job performance during the probationary period, so the fee quoted is the amount the smuggler receives."

"I've never had any complaint with your cousin, nor he with me."

"That's wonderful to hear. So, what kind of job, deal, or trade are you looking for?"

"Almost anything that will turn a good profit. But I don’t transport volatile explosives, such as Melwen Power, or dangerous biohazardous materials. All cargo must be irradiated to destroy pests before I accept it, or I want to know the reason why."

"All valid reasons for rejecting cargo. Too bad you aren't looking for a job on the planet. The crime lords are always looking for a good enforcer. That's especially true of late."

"Why do you say 'of late?'"

"Things have been heating up a little more each day. It started when the Senesim Syndicate challenged the Raiders over the distribution of a popular new drug called Kuloo. The Syndicate claims it's a mild recreational narcotic that helps relieve stress and anxiety, and is therefore part of the product group to which they've been granted exclusive distribution rights under the agreement. The Raiders claim it belongs to the family of addicting drugs they've always distributed. As the drug has gained popularity, the rhetoric has intensified. Both sides see the potential of the drug and want to control it. There have been a few fights, and a number of beheaded bodies have been found, although no one can prove who was responsible. Some have even blamed the Brotherhood for trying to foster trouble between the other two crime organizations in an attempt to have them destroy each other, or at least become so weakened the Brotherhood could then take over their territories and control all illegal products on the planet."

"Somebody is always looking to take over somebody else's share of a pie, whether it's a legit business or an illegal one. It's capitalism at its finest and at its worst."

"I don't mind competition, but I abhor violence. It's not in the nature of a Wolkerron, unless our back is firmly against the wall. But enough about matters over which we have no control. I might have something you'll find interesting. It's a new offer and one that suits your interests while also suiting your spacecraft."

"What do you know about my spacecraft?"

"Trader, please. It's my business to know such things. Your ship model is a Siqquet, built at the Xillesku Shipbuilding yard on Uthlarigasset. It was one of three hundred ninety-four produced in that model series and most are still in service. Top speed is Light-300. That was a considerable advantage over other ships that size when it was built, because most ships were only Light-262 back then. Your cargo area can accommodate either loose cargo or containers since both sides of the ship at the cargo bay level open fully. With containers, it can accommodate either a full container or a mix of sizes that will fit in that space. That is unless you've modified the cargo area?"

"No, you're correct. The ship has always been ideal for smuggling. Until a few years ago, it could even outrun some of the older warships SC was using for interdiction in Region One."

"Some of the civilian shipyards on Uthlarigasset have been upgrading the speed in that model. It was illegal back when the Uthlarigasset government owned this space. But now that it's part of the GA, they're actually encouraging freighters to upgrade their speed. I understand the new drives offer speeds as high as Light-450."

"And I understand the upgrade fee is pretty high."

"Yes, it hovers around a million credits, but you can earn that back in as little as a year— less with dangerous or illegal cargo."

"Space is dangerous enough without piling on more danger."

"That's quite true, but the cargo transport order I have isn't dangerous unless you're stopped by Space Command, and I'm sure you'll do everything you can to prevent that."

"You can check my record with your cousin. I've never lost a cargo yet."

"That's most gratifying."

"Where is this cargo headed?"

"At Light-300, it will take you approximately three months to reach the rendezvous point."

"Rendezvous point? You want me to meet another ship and transfer the cargo?"

"If the customer approves of you as the shipper, you'll receive as much information as I can pass along. You will proceed to the coordinates of a first destination at the time you're ready to leave orbit. You will remain there until you receive further instructions."

"What's the cargo?"

"I can't say."

"You don’t know?"

"I know. That's how I can guarantee it meets your requirements. But I'm not allowed to tell the transporter what it is. It is not explosive, not biohazardous, and will be fully irradiated before being delivered to your ship. From what you've said today, I guarantee that if you knew, you would not hesitate to take the job."

"I don't like carrying cargo when I don't know what it is I'm transporting or when I don't know the destination before I accept the contract."

"I haven't lied to you, Trader. The cargo containers will be sealed and the seals must not be tampered with. The customer will know if anyone attempted to look inside."

"Thanks, Ker, but I'll pass. When I transport something I must know what it is so I know how hard to fight to protect it and how hard someone else will fight to acquire it."

"Then we appear to have reached an impasse."

"That's true. It's just as well. My crew would like a few more weeks on the planet to rest and relax before we head out again."

"Perhaps another time and another deal, Trader."

"Perhaps, Ker."

Vyx drank in solitude for the next hour but was instantly alert when the tavern door opened and Gillanno entered the establishment. Reaching under his cloak, Vyx unhooked the tiny strap that held his pistol firmly in its holster. He was now ready for whatever came. He didn't raise his head or indicate in any way that he was aware of the Uthlaran's presence when Gillanno stopped in front of his table.

"You're late," Vyx said after about ten seconds of silence.

"You've changed— offices. I had to put the word out on the street that I was looking for you and pay for the information that you were in here."

"I got the distinct impression that the bartender at the other tavern would prefer I do my drinking elsewhere for a while. I seemed to be drawing too much attention from the wrong crowd." Vyx raised his head slightly, but not enough for Gillanno to see his entire face. "Have you come to finish our business? I expected you to bring a small army."

"I only came to invite you to have lunch with Lippaula at headquarters."

"I thought we'd been through all that."

"This is strictly an invitation to talk," Gillanno said as he reached for the front flaps of his cloak and pulled them aside using both hands.

Vyx's right hand was instantly on his weapon, and his foot was against the chair across from him, ready to kick it out from under the table and into the Uthlaran.

"See," Gillanno said, "no weapons. I'm completely unarmed. This is a polite invitation, not a demand."

Vyx relaxed slightly. "An invitation to a crime lord's headquarters usually includes a pat-down and forfeiture of all weapons to bodyguards."

"No pat-down. And you keep your weapons. This is a discussion only. We've checked out your background well enough to know you're not an erratic wildcard or an assassin."

"Why so much interest in me?"

"Lippaula wants to meet you. It's always good business to know who's operating in this part of the galaxy."

"How many men do you have waiting outside?"

"None. I came alone— other than the driver."

Vyx didn't respond for a full minute. He wanted Gillanno to believe he was contemplating the invitation, but in reality it couldn't be more perfect. When he stood up quickly, Gillanno was startled and jumped back quickly while reaching behind him. This told Vyx that Gillanno wasn't as completely unarmed as he'd said, but he didn't let on that he had noticed the movement. Knowing something an opponent didn't know you knew was always valuable.