Star Risk - 04 The Dog From Hell (18 page)

"For what the thought produced� well, this dinner is in his honor."

Von Baldur drank champagne, nodded at Spada. It was his turn.

"Most of what I'm going to say goes under the heading of things I should have figured out," the slight man said apologetically. "Such as why is this particular part of the world is so prone to piracy, privateering, and such."

"Mean people," Goodnight suggested.

"Or why the Alliance has sent threatening squadrons into the Alsaoud area so often, since the Alsaoud worlds aren't the worst known.

"The answer turned out to be revoltingly simple�one of the major navpoints that everyone transitioning through this sector uses is nearby.

"Lay in wait around that area, and something worth swooping on is sure to drop by."

Early navigators found it simple to use certain predetermined points as they lurched through hyper-space, finding out the connections and pitfalls. In theory, it was possible to go from any point A to any point B by using any sequence of "navpoints" to step a starship on its route.

But it was easier, faster, and�strangely enough�safer, to use locales that had been previously set. There were hazards in hyperspace, many still unknown, in the same ways that "bottomless waves" or tidal rips were unknown to early ocean navigators.

This wasn't exactly desirable as common knowledge�it was far better for the average interstellar traveler to think of his starship as jumping from place to place, under the command of steel-jawed and laser-eyed officers rather than bumbling from one place to another to a third to a fourth to eventually emerging somewhere close to where he wanted to end up.

For one thing, this produced far fewer lawsuits when the odd starship vanished inexplicably, as some still did.

"How fascinating," Goodnight drawled. "It's always good to know a bit about the local geography and all. But how does that justify this?"

His hand waved around the feast.

"Chas," Grok said acerbically, "you're a good companion, but sometimes you're slightly thicker than a stone wall."

"Agreed," Goodnight said, undisturbed. "Momma didn't raise no bright ones. Proof�I went off to be a sojer boy.

"But I say again my last�navpoints don't explain real Earth pate de foie gras."

"Because," Jasmine said, "this navpoint, and the consequent traffic through the area, may explain Cerberus's presence here."

"How so?" Goodnight asked. "Let's get specific here. How can anybody make a buck off a navpoint? Better, how can we make a buck? Taking it away from Cerberus, of course."

He looked at von Baldur.

"I don't know, yet," he said. "But it is significant."

"It's significant," Riss agreed. "But does it mean anything? Pass the toast."

She spread fish eggs, hard-boiled egg, and real Earth onion bits on one of the toast points.

"As long as we're talking about Cerberus� and over food, at that," Jasmine said, "have we gotten anything to suggest who the late and distinctly unlamented Mr. Held's replacement will be? I'm assuming that Cerberus isn't going to take its nefariousness elsewhere."

There were assorted headshakes.

"Relax, Jasmine," M'chel said. "The evil of the day is sufficient thereof, or something like that."

"At least," von Baldur said, "Mr. Spada's discovery shall make it decidedly easier to find a nice, delectable target, merely by lurking instead of having to advertise, which can always attract unwarranted attention."

"Then Mr. Spada is more than welcome to his banquet," Goodnight said equably, reaching for the champagne.

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THIRTY-TWO � ^ � Seven of the eight board members of Cerberus Systems were gathered on Alegria IV, all but one of them present in person.

They were meeting to discuss Frabord Held's replacement.

The matter was considered that important.

"First," one of the officers said, "we should all be aware that Mr. Held's death was not an accident at all, contrary to what the police of Khazia claim, but a sophisticated murder."

He looked about, as if expecting praise for his perspicacity.

Ral Tomkins thought of showing a bit of mercy, since the man was the most recently appointed member of the board, then changed his mind. Why deviate from his usual style?

"We are all aware of that," he said coldly. "None of us are raw recruits and I, for one, slightly resent being treated like a fool."

The man shrank back almost imperceptibly. "Have any of our operatives filed a report with the slightest clue of who might have done it or why?" he squeaked out.

Tomkins frowned.

"One, blathering about some group called 'the People,' whoever they may be�with, naturally, no evidence supporting her claim. I think the most important task of the moment is to send in a properly skilled replacement, since this agent in charge is clearly not ready for executive status.

"In the course of bringing Operation Peaceful Skies to success, the perpetrator may become evident, in which case he will be dealt with. If not�" Tomkins shrugged.

"I'm not sure that I agree the most important matter at present is to replace Held," Eldad Yarb'ro said from his end of the table. "I think we should consider the validity of the entire operation."

"Don't be absurd," Tomkins snapped "There are enormous benefits to be gained by its success, as I've presented over the last several months while we were debating it. With Alsaoud pacified, and piracy ended, we will have gained enormous goodwill with the Alliance, which, you will recall, is the central reason we agreed to mount it. Not to mention the enormous commercial opportunities we can exploit as this navpoint, and its security, become more and more important to projected Alliance development that we have become aware of through our friends in the government. I'll also remind you that you favored the plan at the time it was voted on."

"I've reconsidered somewhat," Yarb'ro said. "Especially after going through the budget for Peaceful Skies�" He winced. "Who comes up with these damned titles� anyway, I was once again taken aback by its cost."

"Which is miniscule compared to its benefits," Tomkins said firmly. "Not only with the Alliance, but with our presence firmly established in the Alsaoud System, there'll be great enrichment to be gained from contracts with firms whose interests develop in this area."

"Possibly," Yarb'ro said. "But stick to the Alliance, since that's why you pushed for us to get involved in the first place.

"I recollect, during my own time with Alliance Intelligence, we were known to allow a government to perform a favor for us. If it required no effort or expense on our part, and they were successful, we might grant them a boon or two.

"If it didn't, that was�as the field ops say�tough titty for the kitty.

"And we laughed about those who thought they could outmaneuver us.

"I would hate to think that we here at Cerberus, thinking ourselves so clever and skilled, are setting ourselves up as nothing but Alliance patsies."

"I think," Tomkins said, "that your years have sucked you into timidity. At Cerberus's present level, it is good for us to consider long-term benefits, instead of the immediate profit."

"Quite possibly I am getting more careful," Yarb'ro said, undisturbed. "As you grow old, life becomes more precious. Obviously you are not going to listen to my cautions, so let us move on."

"Oh, not at all," Tomkins said, smoothly. "I think you are wrong, but I also agree it is good to be careful.

"For this reason, I wish to suggest that Held's replacement be a man who you recently recommended to deal with that annoying competitor of ours, who seems to have done a very thorough job. My assistants report that not only was Star Risk utterly destroyed, but that its officers have been driven into oblivion.

"Their disappearance will, I'm sure, be a warning to others, and if they ever resurface we'll continue the object lesson.

"So I think your man, Walter Nowotny, should be sent to Alsaoud with full authority and our blessing. We can then, I would think, relax in the knowledge that the next time we hear of Alsaoud and Operation Peaceful Skies, it will be a report of ultimate success."

Tomkins smiled.

Yarb'ro smiled back, but felt like cursing.

He'd been neatly mousetrapped by his objection to the Alsaoud maneuver. If for any reason it failed, Tomkins would use the connection he'd firmly established between Nowotny and Yarb'ro to explain the failure as a plot of Yarb'ro's and claim he hadn't been involved. Yarb'ro would most certainly be destroyed.

It was a move whose Machiavellian qualities Yarb'ro sincerely admired.

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THIRTY-THREE � ^ � It is not enough just to have the tools for a job.

Sometimes it's necessary to go looking for work.

Especially when it comes to a job like pirating.

Things change over the years and parsecs. Rarely, however, do the penalties for acquiring someone else's property en masse.

Punishment for being caught tends to involve tactics like humorless judges, noosed ropes, tall tree limbs, or their equivalent.

But fortune favors the bold, or so it's held among the unhanged.

Star Risk, being bold, set to work in two areas.

The first unleashed Chas Goodnight and a joyful Grok, no longer restricted to hiding in the shadows since von Baldur and all the others assumed that their murder of Frabord Held would expose their presence in the Alsaoud System.

Grok had noted that the People seemed not to discriminate against nonterrestrials. In fact, rumors that Goodnight heard suggested that if it was necessary to deal with outsiders, they preferred them to humans, the explanation being that few aliens required policemen. And so Grok began his inquiries on Khazia more or less openly, and very quickly amassed the names of certain individuals and firms among the People most interested in acquiring things without being too careful about attached certificates of ownership. He settled on the Ganmore family, who seemed to have a certain amount of probity, at least among fences.

Goodnight, on the other hand, had gone zero for zero, coming up with either lightweights or those known for double- or triple-crosses, and was starting to wonder if he was losing his fine hand for skullduggery.

M'chel and Jasmine went looking for targets, using everything from shipping holos to advertisements to word of mouth in the industrialists' hangouts on Khazia.

Redon Spada and von Baldur combed the out-system shipping news.

Riss got lucky first, hearing of a pending cargo. It was somewhat better than pure gold even though it appeared boring�a cargo of micromanipulators, inbound to Alsaoud III, the volcanic world of Tarabula.

Inbound on the starship Fowler.

Money changed hands, and Star Risk got the flight schedule of the ship, and took both the McMahon and their yacht out to lurk near the navpoint the Fowler would use to connect from its home world to jump into the Alsaoud System.

The Fowler was a well-designed and -constructed merchant ship, designed to be able to scoot in and out of almost all ports on any world, including an airless one.

It was a little short of three hundred meters long, with a surprising four thousand metric tons cargo capacity. It loaded either via a stern ramp or into either hold through side hatches, using a pair of integral hoists.

It had a crew of eight officers, twenty men, and�here was Goodnight's near downfall�five stewards taking care of up to twelve passengers in quiet luxury.

On schedule, the Fowler blurped out of subspace beyond Alsaoud. The navigator keyed for precise location and began setting up for the jump closer to Tarabula.

Instead, just as its radar told it that two ships were closing, it received a cast on the standard emergency com:

"Ship Fowler, Ship Fowler. Hold your present orbit. Make no attempt to escape or resist."

With the cast came a side benefit Jasmine was particularly proud of: layered over it was the near subliminal of a flashing human skull and crossed bones that she'd found in a library of clip-and-paste.

Also, withering static went out on all standard 'cast frequencies to jam any commed screams for help.

Finally, a very obsolete (and therefore cheap) missile was fired, just accurate enough to be certain to miss. It exploded a few dozen kilometers off the Fowler, Goodnight having replaced its conventional warhead with a rather stunning fireworks display.

That was more than enough.

Star Risk's yacht and the McMahon set orbits around the Fowler, and Grok, Riss, and Goodnight went out. Von Baldur stayed at the controls of the yacht; Spada in the command chair of the McMahon.

Riss was suppressing a desire to shout "Aaargh," and "ye hearties are half-vast," and other piratical bellows as the inner lock came open.

She didn't need to.

There was already enough chaos going on, mainly caused by the passengers, who were running up and down the main corridor in various stages of panic. There weren't more than six or eight of them, but they made up in volume what they lacked in numbers.

The loudest, M'chel estimated, was a vastly overweight young woman, perhaps nineteen, with hair frizzy enough to belong to her grandmother.

She was screaming, "Oh, help, rape, rape, they're coming," coupled with periodic yips.

She ran up to Riss as M'chel opened her faceplate, squealing, "Oh, please don't ravish me, sir."

Ravish?

Riss was puzzling over that when the young woman realized M'chel wasn't conventionally equipped for the crime, and gibbered incoherently. Then her eyes gleamed as she saw Goodnight lift his helmet off.

She ran to Chas and grabbed him about the hips.

M'chel hid laughter.

The woman squeaked, "Oh, please, don't, don't."

Goodnight grimaced and pushed past her toward the hold.

The woman looked disappointed.

Goodnight went into the cargo spaces, determined that the cargo they wanted was indeed there.

Grok and Riss trotted to the bridge, blasters ready.