Spice Crimes

by Dale Ivan Smith

  Khouri squeezed her eyes shut. The ship shuddered, and then stopped.

  She opened her eyes. The fuzzy spider swung back and forth but everything else was still, except for the pounding of her heart. She glanced over at Zavon.

  He winked, and began unbuckling his straps. “Hey, any landing you can walk away from is a good one, right?” he quipped.

  She shook her head. Irrepressible, that was Zavon.

  “Any idea what caused the power and drive to fail?” he asked.

  “No. The console is still receiving emergency power, so I’ll run some diagnostics, but I’m not an engineer.”

  He unstrapped himself, got to his feet. “I’ll check to make sure our cargo isn’t damaged.”

  Annoyance rose up in her. “We have slightly more important considerations at the moment.”

  “Just trying to make myself useful. After all, I’m not even a pilot.”

  She shook her head as he left NavCom, whistling a jaunty tune, still fiddling with his gold coin. His holstered stun gun was low on one hip, holstered blazer pistol low on the other, like a gunslinger from ancient Earth.

  Khouri became absorbed in checking the ship’s systems. It looked like a programmed process had taken the reactor and drive system off line. She couldn’t tell from the console what the process was, just something in engineering. But, as she told Zavon, she was a pilot, not an engineer, and she wasn’t a freighter pilot. She rubbed her eyes, and took a series of deep belly breaths to slow her racing heart. Why had she let Zavon talk her into this scheme of his in the first place?

  Noises from elsewhere in the ship brought her back to the present. The sounds were muffled and hard to pinpoint, but as she concentrated on listening the noises resolved into banging, a shout, and then a buzzing sound, like the zap of a stun gun. Perhaps the chickens had gotten loose in the cargo hold. Stunning them was an extreme response if they really were loose. She listened.

  Silence.

  She shook her head. Her thoughts were still jumbled after the white-knuckler of a landing. Chickens and ducks on a spaceship were ridiculous. She thought about getting up to help Zavon corral the chickens if that’s what it was, but frankly, he deserved to do some work.

  Khouri leaned back, massaged her temples. She was entitled to a few more minutes rest. She closed her eyes, and lost herself for a while in her yoga breathing, letting the thoughts of chickens on the loose and Zavon’s schemes drift away from her.

  Footsteps sounded in the corridor outside. Khouri turned around in time to see Zavon enter NavCom. His face was flushed and sweaty.

  “Did the chickens get loose?” she asked him as he sat in the co-pilot’s seat.

  “What? Er, no.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Then what were those noises?”

  His stared at his hands. “Um, it turns out there were a few individuals still on board when we took off.”

  She sat bolt upright. “What? But I thought you said there was no one here; that all the thieves had left! Why hadn’t we seen them when we came aboard?” There had been no sign of anyone.

  “They were in the cargo container.”

  Her eyes widened. “With the medical supplies? What were they doing in there?”

  “They were unconscious.” He still wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “Why?”

  “Drugs.”

  That didn’t make any sense. “But you said your plan had worked. That scheme with the golden tickets.”

  He shrugged. “I was wrong. It happens.”

  A rare admission for Zavon. He never admitted to being wrong.

  Khouri took a deep breath. “I assume they aren’t roaming around anymore?”

  “Of course not.” He gestured at himself. “This is me, remember? I take care of problems. Look, so a few stayed behind. They were high on some drugs and knocked out cold when I found them.”

  “Really, then what was all that noise, and shouting? And I heard a stun gun fire. Why would you stun unconscious people?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. His dimples crinkled and he grinned, but it failed to reach all the way to his eyes. “Okay, I so didn’t want to distract you from taking a much-needed break. Plus, you had to check the ship’s systems.”

  She frowned. “How many thieves are there on the ship?”

  “Three. No, four.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t even keep track of how many?”

  “Hey, I was busy. There were four. I stunned them and made sure they were all secured.” He put a hand on his chest. “Trust me. I took care of it. We’ll be fine.”

  Khouri snorted. “Fine!” He was so cocky. She unbuckled and stretched, feeling like she’d been worked over with a hammer. No doubt it would hurt worse later.

  She gave him a hard look. “In case you haven’t noticed, we just semi-crash landed on a wild jungle moon with a ship that is now powered down.”

  “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

  She clenched her hands at her side. “We’ll figure it out? Zavon, I don’t believe you. Last time I checked, you had no mechanical aptitude whatsoever.”

  “But you do.”

  “Yes, with sunrunners and skimmers. Old cargo haulers like the Star Nomad are a different thing altogether.” She frowned. “The drive and reactor have gone through some sort of programmed shutdown.”

  “Tech is tech, right?” He winked.

  He just didn’t get it. “What about any repairs we might need to make?”

  He shrugged. “You said the ship was just powered down.”

  “But I haven’t done a damage assessment, so I don’t know what the ship’s status is.” It struck her then. What if one of the crew was an engineer? Typically, these freight haulers had an engineer as part of the crew. Zavon’s scheme hadn’t called for one, because Khouri was just to fly the ship to Teravia and then the Foundation would take back its ship, and put their own engineer back aboard.

  She ground her teeth. This was all starting to look like untruths piled on deceptions piled on outright lies.

  “Let’s go check on the ship,” she said. “Then we are going to check on the crew, thieves, whatever they are.”

  Khouri stood in the engine room and shook her head, while Zavon leaned against the hatch, looking maddeningly calm.

  “I don’t know if I can get the drive up and running,” she said. “Like I noted earlier, it’s gone through a shutdown sequence. I’ve tried to reactivate it from the control console here, but no luck.”

  Surprised dawned across Zavon’s face. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I’m a pilot, not a miracle worker.” She pointed at the reactor. “And the fission reactor has been magnetically decoupled.”

  “I’m not sure what that means,” Zavon admitted.

  “It means it’s been taken off line. Getting it recoupled takes some skill—you have to recalibrate the system. And even if I had that skill, it’s been locked down.”

  He looked thoughtfully at the drive and reactor, then sighed. “Well, I think you could have help.”

  “From where? Wait.” She didn’t like the thought that came to mind. “You mean one of the crew of so-called thieves is an engineer?”

  Zavon fiddled with his gold coin again, flipping it and rolling it up and down his arm. “Well, it turns out that the crew might not be the thieves I thought they were at first.”

  “WHAT?” she shouted. “Not thieves? Then what does that make us?”

  He held up a hand, closed his eyes. “Not intentionally thieves. They were duped. I didn’t realize until I’d stunned a couple and the last one clearly had no idea about the ship carrying stolen cargo.”

  “When were you going to tell me this new bit of information?” Anger swelled up inside her, and for once, Khouri didn’t try to contain it. His story became dodgier each time he spoke. He had questioned one of the crew after stunning a couple? Things must have been pretty chaotic when he had found them.

  "I'm telling you now." Zavon looked serious.<
br />
  “Is that it? Gee, these thieves who stole the cargo may not know they are thieves? Really, Zavon.” She folded her arms, and stared at the reactor. Offline. That much was clear. And she could not figure out how to restart it. The ship was stranded on Waro Moon. “This means this whole adventure of yours is done. Finished. Over.” She flipped her hair back with a jerk of her head.

  “Not necessarily,” Zavon said. The familiar, cocky grin had come back over his face, curving his lips up in that rakish smile of his.

  Khouri wasn’t buying that smile. Never again. “And what is that supposed to mean?” Doubt crept into her mind. If he’d lied about the crew, what else had he lied about? His lying was why they had broken up the first time. He always had to bend things to suit his own plans, including bending the truth. She had stood up for him to her parents, all those years ago, and where had it got her? Stranded with him on this forsaken moon.

  “It means there’s always a chance.”

  She covered her eyes with her hand, shaking her head. A humorless laugh escaped her lips. “I shouldn’t be surprised any more, but really? Always a chance? That’s the best you can do?” She looked up at him, her jaw set. “Getting out of a lousy situation isn’t always about luck!” In fact, it rarely was.

  He swallowed, but somehow managed to keep the grin on his face despite looking just a tiny bit worried for a moment at her reaction. At least that was her guess. He could be worried about something else which he was hiding from her.

  She brushed back a lock of her hair that had fallen over one eye. She wanted to glare at him with both eyes. “So, who did we really steal this ship from?”

  He pursed his lips. “We, well, we stole it from a mafia that stole it from the pirates.”

  “Wonderful. Now we have two different criminal groups that want the foundation’s cargo?”

  A muscle in his face twitched.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me there’s another group?

  He sighed. “Okay, so Dazzle Club gave me the idea.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Dazzle Club? What does an over-priced, shady night club chain have to do with a medlab?”

  “They are actually a mafia that runs a chain of nightclubs.”

  Her breath froze. “Another mafia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do mafia and pirates want these medical supplies and equipment so badly?” That made no sense to her.

  “Okay, so, this ship’s cargo isn’t medical supplies and equipment. It’s a spice lab.”

  That left her speechless for a moment. She opened her mouth. Closed it.

  “A spice lab,” she said, finally. “What is that?”

  “Yeah, the cargo is a spice lab. A very unique and old spice lab that can synthesize some amazing reactions in the palate, and in the body and mind, in fact, given the right combination of food and drink. Nearly infinitely variable.”

  “Really. A spice lab. Is that your new lie?”

  “It’s not a lie.” He sounded defensive.

  “So, this spice lab must be worth a lot if three different criminal groups are fighting over it?”

  He nodded. “A lot,” he repeated in a low, dramatic voice, the voice he liked to use when he wanted to sound impressed and impressive at the same time. “It’s worth a great deal of money, in fact.”

  She shook her head. “None of this changes the fact that we are stranded. It only makes things worse.” She closed her eyes. Speaking of pirates, she’d forgotten about the shuttle she’d seen on the sensors, leaving the disabled Crimson Stars pirate warship. “The pirates followed us down, remember.”

  “No, I don’t remember,” Zavon said.

  She sighed. “You never pay attention to the important things.”

  Another person would have been offended at her remark, but Zavon didn’t even shrug. “The cargo ramp is up and the airlock is sealed. Besides, I’m betting their tracker isn’t on the shuttle.”

  “What? How do you know that?” Arguing with Zavon was like grappling with ooze. It covered you but you could never get a hold on it. “You don’t know that. Besides, they would have seen our descent. Even if they don’t have a tracker, it won’t take them that long to get to us.” Then there were the other mafia. “What about when Protection Inc. and Dazzle Club both show up?”

  “Dazzle Club doesn’t know we have it. Protection Inc., they’ll probably be headed off in a different direction.” He smiled confidently.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  He tapped his nose. “I know these things.”

  Figuring out the truth here was like trying to untangle the fabled Gordian knot from ancient Earth. If only she had Alexander the Great’s sword, she could cut through the tangle of lies, deceptions, misdirection, and omissions. But, if she had Alexander’s sword, she’d probably use it on Zavon and save herself the trouble.

  Another thought hit her. “What about the Foundation? Will they send a ship to look for us?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “What do you mean, perhaps? You said this shipment was important.” Of course, he’d also said the cargo was medical supplies. She cocked her head. “Wait.” Her eyes narrowed. He had lied about so much, he may have lied about the Foundation. Must have lied. It was always about his own selfish ambition. “There is no foundation, is there? You made it all up.”

  He hesitated. She was right. “Damn you,” she said. “Damn you and damn me for letting you play me. I listened to your lies and look where it left me?” She shook her head.

  “Well,” he said, “you said you just need to know how to “recouple” the reactor and bring the ship’s drive back on line.” Just like that, he had moved past the truth she had laid bare.

  She actually stomped her foot. “In other words, we need to talk to this engineer you ID’d, assuming that they will help us?”

  He nodded. “I’m sure she will.”

  “She.” She took a deep breath. Staying angry wasn’t going to help. He thought every woman was subject to his charms and thus his will. She wasn’t playing that part any more, and she had a suspicion that the engineer would be in no mood to either.

  She gestured at the open hatch. “All right then, let’s go talk to her.”

  Zavon had stashed the crew in a spare storage compartment, handcuffed to a wall conduit. There were four of them; two women and two men. One woman was in a dress, the other in coveralls. The good-looking blond guy wore a jumpsuit. The other man was in civilian dress, with his head slumped forward, unconscious. It was pretty obvious which one was the engineer. She had short hair, and a very angry expression.

  “You damaged my ship, didn’t you?” she growled at Zavon, who did his best to act nonchalant. The woman’s eyes narrowed as she glared at Khouri. “And you must be the pilot who crashed my ship.”

  “I landed the ship, despite your sabotage.”

  “Sabotage? That was a reactor and drive flush, you idiot!”

  “That just happened to occur after we’d taken off?” Khouri felt her face reddening.

  “It wasn’t like I was planning on the ship being stolen, now was it?”

  Khouri cocked her head to one side. The engineer’s self-righteous indignation confirmed that Zavon had been lying. The engineer sounded like Khouri’s sisters, who were always sure they were right. She got under Khouri’s skin just like her sisters used to, too.

  “I was told you stole the ship and the cargo it was carrying.”

  “Really?” The woman glanced at Zavon. “I suppose you told her that, right, pretty boy?”

  “Well, I did, because it’s true.”

  Khouri shook her head. “That’s enough, Zavon.”

  The pretty woman in the dress had been quietly watching the exchange between Khouri and Mica. “I see you sense the truth of what my shipmate told you. This ship belongs to Alisa Marchenko. I’m Yumi Moon.” She nodded at Mica. “This is indeed the Star Nomad’s engineer Mica Coppervein, and on the other side of her is Tommy Beck. He’s our c
ook and is also our security. Well, one of them. You’re lucky his boss isn’t here or else things would become interesting, fast.”

  Khouri pointed at the unconscious man. “Who’s he?”

  “Our ship’s doctor, Alejandro Dominguez.”

  “Why are you telling us your names?” Khouri asked her.

  Yumi’s smiled faded. “So that you know we are people, just like you.”

  “I’m not going to kill you. I wouldn’t do that.”

  Yumi’s expression became grave. “We don’t know that.”

  Zavon knelt beside her. “Sorry about leaving you trussed up like this, but your friends didn’t give me much choice.”

  Yumi lifted her chin. “I’m not surprised that you did, since you are a kidnapper and a thief.”

  Beck, the man beside Mica, raised his head. His dyed blonde hair was in disarray. A bruise had formed on the side of his face. “We were carrying the spice lab for Nova Culinary Systems. Why did you have to go steal it?”

  Khouri glared at Zavon. “They certainly believed they were legitimately transporting the spice lab?” The very spice lab he’d told her was something else.

  Zavon’s gaze darted away from her glare. “Well, the parent company of Nova Culinary Systems is actually a mafia.”

  Beck shook his head. “You’re just making crap up now, pal. We would never willingly haul cargo for a mafia group.”

  “You really believe that?” Khouri asked Beck.

  “I know that. Alisa would never take a job from a mafia unless she had to, and she sure didn’t have to with this job.”

  Beck spoke with such easy assurance, it was almost easy to believe him.

  Zavon leaned close, lips near her ear. “They were dupes.”

  She whirled around. “You didn’t say that to begin with.”

  “No, but I am now.”

  She sighed. “So, you’re telling me this because you always have to be right, is that it?”

  She caught Mica giving Beck a knowing look.

  “What?” asked Khouri.

  Mica grinned. It was a mocking grin, all vicious glee. “You two have a past.” She shook her head. “Listen, he played you, can’t you see that?”