Breach of Peace

by Daniel Gibbs

  Oskar, Felix, and Brigitte were waiting with their one anti-grav stretcher for emergencies. Henry and Tia helped Miri from the back seat and, with their assistance, onto the stretcher itself. She was rather pale. "She's definitely in shock," Tia said, her voice strained.

  "Indeed." Oskar checked his medscanner and nodded to the others. "To the infirmary, now." As they rushed away Oskar continued giving orders. "Brigitte, I'll need you to run a blood sample for the synthblood synthesizer."

  "Captain." Cera's voice turned his attention to the vehicle. She was looking in the back seat, where two angry splotches of blood were showing on the cloth surface. "The rental agency's goin' t' freak at that, sir. Can we clean it?"

  "We can, with some work," Tia said. There was no mistaking she was shaken. When she noticed the way Henry was looking at her, with worry and sympathy, her gray eyes flared with frustration. "Don't feel pity for me, Jim. You've got your old memories too, and you don't like being pitied over them either."

  "True," he conceded. "I'll leave you two to the cleanup, and I'll send Vidia to help. I need to go send some messages and file our departure plan." He turned away. "It's time to get the hell off this planet."

  Kepper walked out of Zuyev's office feeling restored, physically anyway. His ego still felt bruised, and Li's remarks stung more than he thought they would. His pride made that sting unavoidable, granted, but that pride was important. Professional pride was the shell he used to keep his urges in check.

  Given he was still waiting for news from his contact, Kepper flew the helicar back to Vasily's building. He was pleased to see no sign that the apartment was disturbed in his absence. Upon entering, he went to the storage closet in the bedroom and tapped the key to trigger the sliding door. It opened, revealing a much bedraggled Harr'al bound and gagged. Given the mess he'd made of his things, it was obvious to Kepper that Vasily did what he could to try and escape, although now his captive was just silently kneeling, head bowed, and eyes closed.

  Given the frustrations of the day, Kepper felt a greater readiness to satisfy his urges, just a little. Only a few deep cuts. Nothing too messy. He might have done so had he not felt the call intensify, enough that he doubted his control. There was a possible time crunch, and if he genuinely lost control, well, that would be too messy. Not to mention loud. No, not today. There would be no giving in to urges.

  The part of him that wanted to satisfy himself, the proverbial devil on his shoulder, suggested a compromise. He might not enjoy the Harr'al's physical agony and prolonged death, but the emotional agony and terror of being dragged off to the Trader Quarter's slavers? That would be at least satiate the need. He would get to hear the wailing and begging, see the terror in that rubbery face, in those pale green eyes. It would be delicious.

  But again, his damned pride stepped in. He'd told the Harr'al he'd only sell him to a slaver if he didn't cooperate, and Vasily had done just that. Some might scoff at the idea of honor among thieves—and kidnappers and assassins and slavers—but there had to be some expectation of a promise being fulfilled, or nothing would get done. That was how Kepper had been taught, and it was how he saw the world work. He wasn't about to sacrifice his pride for the pleasure of the Harr'al's terror at being returned to slavery.

  Kepper considered his options. He supposed he could let Vasily go free, but that was sloppy. He could identify him and knew things about the situation that might yet hurt his efforts. No, that wouldn't do.

  Vasily gave him a forlorn look. "You kill me now."

  Kepper could see it wasn't a question. Vasily knew he wasn't walking away. Kepper was impressed. Then again, just because Vasily spoke English in that broken way didn't mean he was simple. And he'd had hours to realize the situation.

  When Kepper didn't say anything right away, Vasily asked, "May I pray?"

  He shrugged. "If you think anyone's listening, sure." As he spoke, his hand reached behind his back to pull out his pulse pistol. He put the muzzle against Vasily's bowed head. Vasily's voice began lowly speaking in what he figured was Russian or some other related language. He didn't bother turning on his auto-translator, not particularly caring for what was being said. Instead, he pulled out his commlink to see if there were any messages from his contact.

  The speaking stopped. Kepper turned his head back to Vasily. The Harr’al’s pale green eyes were fixed on him. He’s ready for the end. Perhaps there would be enjoyment in letting the moment linger. Give him some hope and time to consider his end, to allow some terror of death to come back. Kepper did have time to kill after all. His commlink went off. Using his free hand, he checked it. His contact had a reply.

  Kepper's finger tensed on the trigger. There was the hard-toned whiff of a pulse pistol shot and the thud of a lifeless body, once on its knees, falling over. He glanced down at Vasily's corpse and noted something akin to peace on the alien face, the rubbery skin relaxed in death.

  That was one loose thread dealt with. Kepper had a ship, and a mark, to catch.

  20

  After filing a departure flight plan with the Sektatsh Spaceport, Henry sent off quick messages to the various parties interested in Miri, letting them know she was on the ship. He was still wondering just how the hell he was going to satisfy Vitorino, al-Lahim, and Caetano, all at once.

  If that was impossible, well, then he was indeed between a rock and a hard place. Vitorino was his employer. Without his patronage, Lusitania, and other worlds where Vitorino's trade network had weight, would be tight spots to find work in. On the other hand, Caetano would certainly have Jules imprisoned and go after Henry and the rest of the crew. Al-Lahim couldn't be ignored either: Coalition Intelligence could make all sorts of trouble for him, given his status back home.

  A knock at his door prompted Henry to look up. "Come in," he said. Felix walked through the door, concern showing on his face. "Is our passenger doing all right?"

  "Yeah. She's stabilizing." Felix slid into one of the available chairs. "So we've got our package. What now?"

  "We take her back to Lusitania and get your brother cleared," Henry replied.

  "You've got some grand plan to appease Coalition Intel, Minister Vitorino, and Caetano?" Seeing Henry's irritated glance at that query, Felix sighed and shook his head. "You don't."

  "I'm working on it. That's the best I can do," Henry said.

  "I'm not sure how you can satisfy them all," said Felix. "But if you don't follow through with Caetano—"

  "Jules is the priority." Henry adopted a tone he hoped would reassure his oldest friend about his too-stubborn, absolutely faith-filled brother. "I just have to hope we can do this in a way that appeases Vitorino and al-Lahim as well."

  "Well, CIS only seems interested in keeping her safe. We get her safely to Lusitania, and we've done that. Vitorino's going to be the problem, I figure. I know he's playing up that he wants the truth out as the Trade Minister, but knowing his rep, he has another motive."

  "Vitorino always has ulterior motives," Henry noted wryly.

  Felix took a moment, perhaps to consider his next remarks. "And what about this disappearances thing? Do you think our new passenger is an actual witness?"

  "Well, either she is, or it's a mighty big coincidence that League intelligence tracked her down to Harron from a lost ship. And you remember what they said about coincidences back at New Halsey, don't you?"

  "'Coincidences usually aren't'," quoted Felix from memory. "Then that would imply the League's involved with what's going on, or at least knows who is and is working with them in some way."

  "That's my read too. But we won't know for sure until Miri talks." Henry looked toward the stern of the ship, in the general direction of the ship infirmary. "We'd better hope Oskar keeps her stabilized."

  "In the meantime, I'm going to join Yanik down in the holds. Get some things ready. Just in case."

  Henry recognized what Felix meant. He nodded in agreement with the sentiment. "You do that," he said, eyeing the family rifle briefly. Felix
caught the gesture and nodded, showing he understood what Henry was thinking. Without another word, he stood and departed.

  After leaving Vasily's body in his apartment, Kepper finished his cleanup with haste. The helicar was dealt with by a scrubbing program that wiped the system blank. Arrangements were made for his stakeout gear to be cleared out—he didn't have time to do it himself—while he made his way to the spaceport.

  With the information from his contact on hand, Kepper didn't have trouble finding the helicar rental agency. Once he arrived, he found the staff reasonably flexible—that is, willing to cooperate for a reasonable bribe—and got the information he needed.

  A few minutes later, the data filled the digital display on his personal reader. The vehicle was rented out by an independent trading shipowner, James Henry, co-owner and captain of the Shadow Wolf out of Darien. Kepper didn't recognize the name of the captain or ship. After considering if someone might have practiced some datahack-enabled identity theft, he reasoned such a vessel and crew would make for a quick and dirty extraction team. Independent traders needed work since they lacked the steady contracts that many shipping companies enjoyed. Getting paid to move a single person from one world to another was probably an ideal payday to them.

  With this information in mind, Kepper decided to reach out to another contact. He was in luck here; while his guy in traffic control was more of an equal in terms of mutual arrangement, he had dirt on one of the higher-level administrative officials of the spaceport. One Trafan Desik, a Harr'al from across the planet who ran a smuggling ring that the city and neighboring Calnin authorities had little love for. Kepper kept a functioning relationship with Desik by occasionally doing small jobs for him, but never failing to remind him that Desik's fate was in his hands.

  As usual, Desik was not happy at his arrival. Having a human lord it over him, whatever small benefits Kepper's work did for him, did not sit well with the Harr'al's pride. He had that same rubbery skin texture as the rest of his species, but with a pinkish tint you didn't see among Calnin. His violet-toned eyes looked pensively at Kepper. "This isn't going to be easy," he warned. "This ship is here working for the Trade Minister of Lusitania. Lord Sikna paid for his cargo. I must have a strong reason to suspend the ship's departure with such personages involved."

  That tidbit interested Kepper. The Trade Minister of Lusitania, Duarte Vitorino, had a growing reputation as a man with wealth, taste, and a position that let him enhance both. He was also known for getting things done and had his own network among various Trifid Nebula Region worlds, even private trade routes. Was he involved with the mark in some way? Or the League's interest? He filed that thought away for later.

  What was more immediately important was that the Shadow Wolf's departure was about to be approved.

  "You can't demand an inspection?" asked Kepper as he surveyed Desik's lavish office. "I just need time to move a team into place and take my target back out."

  "My authority is limited on these matters. I can't stop a ship without cause."

  He considered options. A small grin came to his face. "Lord Sikna can't complain if a man is keeping a servant from running, can he?"

  Drisk scrunched his nose area up. "I think I see what you are suggesting. I can order the ship's launch suspended if we have reason to believe an escaped slave is aboard."

  "Sounds good to me."

  "But all I can do is order a brief suspension," Drisk warned. "Without an actual database-identified slave verified, I can't even get permission for a security team to respond. You might have an hour before my suspension will be revoked. Maybe less."

  "You let me worry about that," said Kepper, already considering his available courses of action. "Just stop that ship."

  "I'll send the suspension order, then. Just don't mess this up."

  "I don't intend to."

  Cera and Tia returned the helicar after a heavy-duty use of the ship's industrial cleaners bleached out the blood spots. The rental agency was quite unhappy, and Tia did not look forward to Henry seeing the bill when it came. They returned to the ship via a smart aircar taxi and went aboard, Cera to begin pre-flight checks and Tia to check on their patient.

  The infirmary was on the upper deck and astern of the living quarters. The nearest of the three beds to the door was occupied by Miri Gaon, who didn't stir at the noise. Oskar and Brigitte stood to opposite sides of the bed, each holding a scanner. "She is still alive and continuing to stabilize," Oskar assured Tia. "You did the right thing in treating her. As if you have done so before."

  Tia swallowed and nodded. Her gray eyes turned distant, as if seeing into the past. She remembered a young woman with the same complexion as herself, a missing limb, and so much blood, while the roar of heavy arms fire filled the air. "I have experience, yes," was what she managed to say.

  "Ah. How silly of me." Oskar sighed. "I momentarily forgot your background. I am sorry for dredging up terrible memories, Tia."

  "It's fine," she said, even though it wasn't, but that wasn’t Oskar’s fault. Felipe's words and attitude still rubbed raw against her emotions. "What is her condition, beyond stable?"

  "Pulse shot to the upper right arm, and slugs to the left shoulder and side," Oskar recited, even as he took the scanner Brigitte was holding to look over the results. "The characteristics of the wound are consistent with magnetic firearms."

  "A mag-pistol and a pulse pistol. This man was ready for a fight." Tia got close enough to look at the sleeping form of their passenger. Even resting, there was a tension in Miri's expression and body that told of demons in her past. "She's spent years running, according to al-Lahim. And now she’s caught up in this."

  "The League will stop at nothing to capture her, if they have a KC order. I do not recognize her as a dissident, however."

  "She's Coalition Intelligence, or former anyway. Maybe she did something to them?"

  "I hope it bloody hurt," Brigitte said, never one to pass up a chance to lash out verbally at her former nation.

  "It likely did. They are treating her like they would a defector or traitor," Oskar pointed out.

  "You mean like you?" Tia asked.

  "Yes. Like me. Brigitte, as well, although since she was a civilian without an official position, she would not face the same."

  Brigitte crossed her arms and scowled. "No, I'd just be sent back to a damned re-socialization camp and broken down into a good little Society drone." After speaking, Brigitte's expression lightened slightly. "I wonder what the Captain’s going to do? He can’t have both Caetano and Vitorino take custody of her, can he? And Coalition Intel wants her on the run.”

  “I think he’s still figuring it out,” Tia said. “But in the end, I think he’ll go with Caetano. Even if it costs us work, she’s in a position to make life for us a real hell, not just make jobs scarcer."

  "Yeah." Brigitte frowned at the choices they were presented with. "A shame we had to be caught up in this crap. Like we haven't had enough happen."

  "Given the state of the galaxy, we cannot always evade events," Oskar remarked. "We just have to trust in each other and Captain Henry."

  "Always," Tia agreed.

  Henry went to the bridge in anticipation of the launch clearance he was expecting any moment. Piper was present at the First Mate's station and Cera at the helm, running pre-launch checks. "Everything green?" he asked. The sooner this job is over, the better.

  "As green as a New Connaught shamrock, sir," Cera promised. "Pieter's checkin' a line, but I'm showin' no problems on the system."

  "As soon as we get clearance, I want to get out of here," Henry said, even though he was still wondering how to satisfy everyone back on Lusitania. Given the choice of more time to make a plan or getting off Harron, he'd pick the latter any time. This planet was too frustrating with its existence and the way it did things. "How did things go at the helicar agency?"

  Cera winced, although Henry couldn't see it. "Oh, they took th' car back, sir. But I have a feelin' t
hat you won't be likin' th' bill."

  "That bad, huh?"

  "Yeah, that bad, sir."

  Henry sighed. Yet more expenses, and they could be so frustrating. But it couldn't be helped. "Well, that's how things go in these kinds of jobs. You did good, by the way. Got our passenger out of harm's way."

  "Thank you, sir," Cera said, now beaming with pride. "I've always wanted t' try that kind o' spin in a helicar. He just gave me an excuse."

  "The woman you recovered has reason to thank you, since she's on the League's hit list. Odds are you kept her from being spaced."

  At that, the others shivered. "Such a terrible way to go," Piper lamented. "And they claim they're the superior, 'enlightened' ones."

  "Dictatorships tend to bury those sorts of things in the fine print." Henry shared a brief chuckle with Piper at that.

  Piper's chuckle was interrupted by a beep from the console. She tapped at it. "Shadow Wolf," here, she said aloud.

  "Vessel Shadow Wolf, this is Spaceport Control. Your departure clearance is denied."

  Henry heard that and scowled. "What? Why?"

  "Your ship has been flagged as potentially harboring an escaped slave," the official replied. "We are examining the order now."

  Right away Henry knew what was happening. "It looks like the guy you ran over wants another go," he said to Cera. "And he might be bringing friends."

  "Give me th' word an' we're headin' for vacuum, sir," she said.

  "Be on standby," Henry said, weighing his options. The locals, like any slavocracy, took a dim view of Underground Railroads, especially since they had almost no hope of reclaiming escapees. They'd potentially have the system defense fleets after them if they tried to run under that suspicion, and Henry didn't want to deal with those odds if he didn't have to. He tapped a key to re-open the channel to traffic control. "We acknowledge and protest strongly, Traffic Control. We have no escapees aboard, just Union-recognized spacers."