Spice Crimes

by Dale Ivan Smith

  The lady pirate had disappeared behind a pile of cargo cubes. Alisa heard the woman shout in the direction of Bay 23, "We need help!”

  Several figures charged into the pod from the bay, firing, and then dove behind the cargo cubes.

  Alisa turned and glanced behind her, in the direction of the open cargo can. Only a few mafia goons were still alive. She turned back to face the pirates. Given the reinforcements and the cover which better protected them, there may have been as many as a dozen pirates by now, all armed.

  Whereas only Leonidas and their mysterious ally had weapons. Abelardus and Young-Hee were prone, with no cover nearby, obviously trying to stay as flat as possible. Alisa realized it was too much to expect them to pull the mind puppet trick again while they were in the middle of the firing range.

  Her hand rested on the side of the load-lifter. An idea flashed into her mind. She grinned. The pirates wouldn’t expect that, for sure. She pulled the Andromeda Android doll from the bag still hanging from Leonidas’s shoulder, leaned forward into the load-lifter and turned the ignition, jamming the doll under the dash and over the accelerator. It lurched forward.

  “Look out!” Someone shouted.

  Alisa raced behind the load-lifter to grab a destroyer on the ground beside a dying pirate, and then backpedaled toward Leonidas. Another pirate fired at her, the bolt barely missing, making her skin burn. She returned fire, missing him but hitting the cube he was cowering behind, making him duck.

  “Down,” an accented voice hissed behind her. Alisa hit the deck, abrupt agony jolting her body as she slammed into the concrete, the breath knocked out of her.

  Meanwhile the load-lifter plowed through a line of cargo, running over a couple of pirates. Pirates in the path of the lifter scrambled out of the way, but one was a second too slow and took a blade in the chest. Alisa winced and looked away, unable to block out the man’s scream.

  Leonidas charged out from behind his barricade, firing at the lady pirate. The woman stiffened, then collapsed to the ground. Was that a stun bolt?

  A shifting shadow moved past her and tackled the lone surviving mafia goon. There was a loud buzz, and the goon went slack.

  The shadowy figure stood.

  Alisa had never seen tech like that—some sort of shifting camouflage, but she didn’t know what exactly it was.

  Sparks flared and the shadows vanished, revealing a short, broad-shouldered man, with close-cropped black hair, prominent cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. His arms bulged with corded muscles. He held a short metal wand. His expression was calm, despite the fact that wisps of smoke rose from his black jumpsuit.

  Leonidas knelt beside the unconscious lady pirate and ran his hands along her sides.

  “Hey, a little overly familiar there,” Alisa called out. She was surprised she could joke about it, but better that than curling up in a corner. Maybe she’d just been shot at enough times now it was becoming second nature.

  Leonidas held up a pair of handcuffs, rolled the unconscious lady pirate over and snapped them on. “I suspected she carried a pair,” he said.

  Alisa cocked an eyebrow. “Really? That’s a side of you I’m curious about.”

  He reddened.

  She glanced over at the stranger, who had produced a coil of synthetic cord and was tying the ankles and wrists together of the last surviving mafia goon, who was currently unconscious.

  Having finished his work, the stranger stood, keeping his arms at his sides, and introduced himself.

  “Temur Luk,” he announced. He nodded at Alisa. “Pleased to meet you, Captain Marchenko.” The wisps of smoke rising from his jumpsuit were fainter now.

  “You do realize you’re smoking,” Alisa said.

  Temur nodded and unhooked a battery pack-like device from his jumpsuit, holding it up and scrutinizing it. “I ran the stealth unit’s camouflage mode too long and it overheated.” Another man might have shaken his head at that, but Temur simply slipped the unit into a pocket.

  He then nodded at Leonidas. “Colonel Adler.” He gave a salute. “It’s an honor, sir.” He nodded at Abelardus and Young-Hee, who got to their feet. “An honor to meet Starseers.”

  Leonidas’s brows drew together in a puzzled expression. “Do I know you?”

  “Sergeant Luk, 1st Imperial Reconnaissance Battalion.”

  Leonidas’s eyes widened and he smiled. “Ah, an Imperial Scout.”

  Temur nodded. “I never had the honor of serving under your command, sir, but of course I knew about you.”

  Leonidas walked over to the shorter man, reached out a hand. “Thanks for the assistance.”

  “No thanks needed, sir,” Temur replied.

  “Please, just call me Leonidas. The war is long over.”

  “It is at that,” Temur said.

  Alisa crossed her arms. “I hate to break up your veterans’ meeting, but the Nomad is missing, and all we’ve got are an unconscious, bitchy pirate, and an equally-unconscious and no doubt thick-headed mafia goon.”

  “I can fill you in on the situation as I know it.” Temur’s voice was calm and professional. He had a deep baritone rumble, almost as deep as Leonidas’s but with an accent that Alisa couldn’t place and which seemed all the more exotic because of that.

  Alisa nodded. She didn’t hide her frown. “As quickly as you can. I want my ship back, and I also want to find out what happened to my crew.” The people responsible for stealing the Nomad, whoever they were, were in water so hot it was scalding.

  6

  The Star Nomad’s power registered eighty percent as they left Sherran Moon’s orbit, bound for the Foundation’s offices on Teravia. It would be Khouri’s first time both on Teravia and actually visiting Zavon’s Foundation. She inputted the course. They would pass near another moon of Aldrin, Waro, which according to the ship’s computer was an uninhabited jungle moon, filled with dangerous life forms. A good place to avoid.

  She leaned back in the pilot’s seat and glanced at Zavon.

  “That went easier than I thought it would.”

  He grinned at her and put his arms behind his head. “You should trust me more often.”

  She snorted. “I have to ration trust, especially when it comes to you.”

  He put his hand over his heart. “I’m wounded that you would say that, Khouri. When have I—“

  She interrupted him. “Stop right there. You’ll only get yourself in deeper.”

  His rakish smile faded, replaced by what on other people would be considered genuine concern.

  “Look, this is a worthy cause, and we just rescued important medical supplies and equipment, along with a foundation ship.

  She gestured at the cabin around them. “About this ship. I thought foundation ships ran with minimal crew.”

  “Most do, this one is different.”

  Suspicion, an old companion when it came to Zavon, returned, and she frowned. But there was no point in arguing about it; Zavon would just deflect or deny.

  After a while, he started drumming his fingers on the console, his seat, even her seat until she told him to stop. Then he began flicking his finger at the plush spider hanging above him, over and over again, making the spider arc back and forth with increasing speed after each flick. Khouri ground her teeth.

  “How about you take a nap?” she suggested.

  “Can’t,” he said. “I never could nap.”

  That was actually the truth as far as she knew, a rarity when it came to Zavon.

  There was a long way to go to Teravia once they had left Aldrin and its moons. Zavon was already annoying after the short time they’d been in flight; on the longer leg he would be insufferable, and she couldn’t be responsible for what she might do.

  “Maybe take a walk to burn off some of that energy?” She kept her eyes on the console.

  He snapped his fingers. “Great idea!” He practically leapt from the co-pilot’s chair.

  After he’d left NavCom she breathed a sigh of relief. She still didn�
��t buy his answer about the freighter being an exception to the Foundation norm concerning transports, but then again, she’d never seen a Foundation ship before, since she was always running missions in her sunrunner, which was back on Sherran Moon, in a long-term docking bay. She missed it already. She let her mind wander while she enjoyed the solitude in NavCom, however brief it would ultimately turn out to be.

  A while later Zavon returned, looking flushed, sweat staining his shirt.

  She raised an eyebrow. “What did you do, decide to run some laps in the cargo hold?”

  He wiped at his forehead with a cloth. “Yes, in fact. It was a good way to burn off some excess energy.” He settled back in the co-pilot’s chair and was uncharacteristically quiet for a time.

  She’d never known Zavon to voluntarily exercise, he liked muscle stimulation beds where he could let the machine do all the work. Aside from that, he had a high metabolism and got in enough trouble that circumstances kept him lean.

  She shrugged to herself. Who knew what he’d been up to? At least he was quiet for a while.

  Waro grew closer in the front view screens, a green disk against the colossal backdrop of Aldrin. The gas giant’s huge atmospheric cloud bands contrasted with the emerald green of the jungle moon.

  Her next words were interrupted by an alarm suddenly beeping on the console. She scanned the controls, trying to find the source. There!

  Her eyes narrowed. Another ship was in the vicinity, behind Star Nomad and closing fast. She brought up the rear camera view.

  A sleek-looking ship followed them. Even from this angle she could see the other ship’s engines flaring.

  “We have a pursuer,” she said, trying to stay calm.

  “You sure it’s pursuing us? Could just be traveling in the same direction.”

  “Out by Waro? Who goes to Waro?”

  “Well, we’re just passing by,” he replied airily. “Maybe they are just doing that, too.” He seemed unconcerned.

  Perhaps, but that ship was accelerating toward them.

  A new alarm shrieked. Khouri frantically scanned the console, trying to find the alarm indicator. There. A sensor display showed their ship and the pursuing vessel. A blinking red dot left the other ship, accelerating toward the Star Nomad.

  She dry-swallowed before speaking. “They’ve launched a torpedo," she said, with a half-squeak.

  Zavon's insouciant expression vanished and he was abruptly all business. His gaze quickly moved over the console. Khouri saw all this out of the corner of her eyes.

  "Any defenses?" he asked.

  Khouri's own gaze roamed over the console. Cargo haulers usually had shields, but not always. Still, in the new post-Imperial era, a freighter needed shields, unless they just wanted to surrender to any pirate that came along.

  She located the defense system controls. She activated the shields as the torpedo zeroed in on them.

  She strapped herself in. “You, too," she nodded at Zavon. For once, he didn't make a big production out of refusing, or delaying, and instead, strapped himself in with quick efficiency. The alarms shrieked louder, a cacophonous symphony of noise that made her head hurt.

  “I miss my sunrunner,” she said. “They would never catch us in the sunrunner.”

  “But the sunrunner has no cargo space,” Zavon pointed out.

  She knew that, but right now, she couldn’t give a flying freak about cargo. She wanted speed.

  The torpedo was almost on them. She banked the Nomad hard to starboard. The screen flared white, and the alarms stopped.

  The torpedo had detonated well beyond damage distance.

  "We were lucky," she said to Zavon, her stomach roiling.

  He shook his head. "No, they did that on purpose."

  The comm came on. “Decelerate or the next one will not miss,” said a nasty-sounding male voice with a ragged, menacing edge. Khouri’s skin prickled when she heard it.

  She swallowed, forced herself to speak.

  “Who is this?”

  “The Crimson Star Pirates,” the man replied. “Surely you’ve heard of us.”

  She raised her eyebrows and glanced at Zavon, who shrugged and shook his head no.

  “Can’t say that we have,” she replied.

  “Really? Well, you’ll soon rue the day you stole our cargo!”

  The holo field showed the pursuer accelerating.

  “This crate’s got more power, right?” Zavon asked.

  “I think so.” Khouri checked the power readouts. The ship was running at eighty five percent now. “She does have more to give,” Khouri told him.

  Zavon leaned forward and flicked on the reply. His lips curled up in a mocking smile and he winked at Khouri. “You can do better than that,” he said. “We aren’t stopping.”

  “Idiot,” the nasty man on the other end growled. “I’ll eat your spleen for breakfast.”

  Zavon rolled his eyes. “Pirates are always threatening to eat an organ.”

  “How many pirates have threatened you?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “There’ve been a few in my time.”

  Another torpedo appeared in the holo display and Khouri’s heart pounded even faster.

  “Don’t worry,” Zavon reassured her.

  She shook her head and increased acceleration, pushing the power plant to ninety percent.

  "How can you be so certain?" Khouri couldn't keep the fear out of her voice this time. “They are pirates.”

  “I’ve never heard of them,” Zavon said, looking maddeningly calm in the face of the imminent arrival of the second torpedo. "But they won't want this ship to be destroyed. They want the cargo. Losing that would eliminate any profit. These pirate types are all about the profit.”

  “I thought you never heard of these guys?" She gave him a hard look.

  Zavon shrugged. “If they are pirates, they’ll want the cargo.” He put a hand on his chest. "Trust me."

  He was going with that again? Trust him? This time that got her blood boiling. Trusting him had got her into trouble before. And then they broke up, and it took a lot of trust to get back, along with generous helpings of his charm. She knew he was bad for her.

  The proximity alarm began shrieking louder. Despite the Nomad’s increasing acceleration, the torpedo continued to gain on them.

  "We will blow you up," the gruff-sounding voice said over the comm. "Don't test us."

  Zavon leaned forward again, winking at Khouri, which only increased her irritation at him. Not that that would matter much longer.

  “But then you won’t get “your” cargo back, will you?” He shot Khouri a sly grin. Don't worry, he mouthed, I have it all under control.

  She sighed.

  “Maybe we’ll target your NavCom, kill you, and salvage the cargo from the wreck,” the voice said.

  “Torpedoes can’t be targeted that precisely,” Zavon retorted.

  “You sure, mate? The Crimson Star specializes in precise shots.”

  Khouri wanted to slug him for getting them into this fix, but instead she punched the acceleration on the console’s controls, bringing the Nomad hard about, rolling the ship as she looped back toward the oncoming torpedo.

  "What are you doing?" The gruff voice asked.

  “Khouri!” Zavon shouted.

  “Let’s see how precise these jokers can target us.” Anger flooded her now. They’d learn how much guts these so-called pirates had.

  “Hey!” The pirate shouted over the comm. There was suddenly a jumble of arguing voices. “The damn cargo will be destroyed,” someone else yelled.

  The torpedo sped toward the Nomad, then exploded.

  Zavon grinned. “See, I told you they wouldn’t risk blowing up the cargo.”

  Khouri ignored him, and powered up the Nomad’s weapons. She finally recognized the firing ship's design—typically it only carried one torpedo launcher, it was an ancient model, older than this old cargo hauler, which had surprising moves for a merchanter.

  She fi
red the Nomad’s weapons at the other ship, energy lancing the hull near the other vessel’s drive. Sensors indicated the enemy vessel’s shields were off, perhaps the old ship’s drive ate up too much power at these speeds. She mentally crossed her fingers. The skin of the enemy ship brightened, and vapor flared in a tongue of flame.

  "Got you!" Khouri said, grinning.

  Zavon leaned back in his chair, looking startled but happy.

  "You should trust me,” Khouri said, and sent the ship corkscrewing away and back on course, Waro now spreading out below them, a green and white disk spanning one side of the display screen’s field of view.

  That was when a new alarm sounded. Khouri frantically checked the indicators. The drive had cut out, and power had dropped to emergency settings only.

  "What happened?" Zavon asked, suddenly looking worried.

  “I don’t know, we lost the drive and only have emergency power.”

  “But how could we lose power?” Zavon asked. “Unless…”

  “Unless what?” She kept her eyes on the console’s indicators. They still had power for the thrusters, but the drive was offline. The reactor itself was running at a greatly reduced output. That seemed wrong.

  “I wonder if we’ve been sabotaged,” Zavon said.

  “Sabotaged?” Khouri repeated. “How? And why?” That made no sense.

  “Sorry, just trying to trouble shoot the problem.”

  She frowned. The Nomad was being pulled off course by Waro Moon’s gravity after they’d maneuvered toward it. The thrusters might not be enough to keep them from falling into the moon. She thought hard.

  "We need to land," she said.

  “On Waro Moon?” Zavon shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

  “We’re already in the moon’s gravitational pull.” she replied. It was a large body, more massive than Sherran Moon. Landing there was just about the last place she wanted to touch down, but it was habitable, and then they could check out the ship’s reactor and drive system. But if she did that now, she wouldn’t be able to fly the ship, and Zavon was no pilot. Nor was he an engineer.