by Scott Baron
Her mood shifted to a far more serious one. “Oh. That is not good. Not good at all.”
“No, it isn’t,” the former pirate agreed.
“Ahkrahn is ruled by a particularly nasty visla, if I am not mistaken,” she said.
“You are correct, Demelza,” Hozark said. “Visla Sunar controls that world. That entire system, for that matter. He runs the Ootaki trade, and it spans many, many systems.”
“And he’s got my copilot,” Bud said.
Demelza read the look on both of the men’s faces clearer than any book. “I am not going to like what you say next, am I?”
Hozark smiled with deadpan Ghalian mirth. “Likely not,” he replied. “It seems Laskar was taken prisoner while attempting to retrieve information beneficial to us. Information about the goings-on between Visla Horvath, Emmik Rostall, and how it all ties in to the Council of Twenty. That, and how exactly Samara came to be embroiled in their affairs.”
“Interesting. He did this of his own accord?”
“He did. And from what Uzabud has told me, it seems he may have succeeded.”
Demelza nodded, taking it all in. She already knew whatever plans she might have had in the works would be delayed indefinitely. Hozark saw the realization in her eyes.
“Yes, Demelza. We are delaying both of our contracts for the time being. There is a cushion built into them, and we will utilize it to the fullest.”
“We are going to get him, aren’t we?”
“We are,” the master assassin replied.
It was an inconvenience, putting their officially sanctioned contracts on hold. But this was more than a rescue of a friend’s partner. This was an intelligence-gathering operation, and Laskar, it seemed, possessed some most valuable information indeed.
“It’s gonna be tough,” Uzabud said. “I mean, this guy has a shit-ton of Ootaki hair at his disposal.”
“So, you’re saying it is going to be a particularly challenging endeavor,” Demelza mused.
“Yes, it will be most difficult,” Hozark agreed.
She smiled broadly. “Excellent. I will gather my gear.”
Chapter Seven
“I must admit, while I am quite looking forward to this challenge, I do find it somewhat hard to believe we are undertaking this task for the likes of Laskar,” Demelza said as she stowed her gear aboard Bud’s larger ship.
She’d already attached her much smaller craft to the ship’s hull, as Hozark had done with his shimmer ship, fastening it securely with several spells locking it in place for transit.
She had minor shimmer ability to her craft, but nothing like that of the master Ghalian. His ship could become entirely invisible, even in space, though the cost in magic was great. Fortunately, the Wampeh Ghalian were by no means a poor order.
“You are not alone with your surprise on this,” Hozark replied. “But, despite his somewhat abrasive personality, he has proven himself in combat at our side.”
“Many have. And many have fallen,” she noted.
“True. But this one may possess vital information toward understanding exactly what the Council of Twenty is up to. And for that, we must retrieve him.”
“Guys, do me a favor,” Bud interjected. “If we do manage to spring him from Visla Sunar’s cells, try to keep the, ‘We don’t need him,’ and, ‘We only did it for his intel,’ stuff quiet, okay? He’s a cocky bastard, sure, but that would kinda suck, and I’m the one who’s gonna be flying with him when this is all through.”
“Of course, Bud,” Hozark replied with a grin. “Tact is one thing we are not lacking.”
“Nor is candor, when called for,” Demelza added with a grin.
They had geared up quickly for the rescue attempt. Being within the walls of a secret Ghalian training house, all they could possibly need was at their fingertips in the many storerooms contained deep within. It had been one hell of an eye-opener for Uzabud.
He’d always known the wealth and assets of the Wampeh Ghalian simply had to be immense by now, given what they charged for their services and how long they’d been around. But to see the neatly organized shelves and tables covered in everything they could possibly need, all of it neatly arranged and left out for any of the order to utilize should they have need, well, it was enough to make the sticky-fingered former pirate in him itch just a bit.
But he knew far better than to steal from the Ghalian. Not only was Hozark his friend, but his people were the deadliest assassins in the galaxy. And besides, Uzabud knew he would most likely get to keep much of what they used in their endeavor as a little thank you payment, as was Hozark’s habit. Maybe he’d even let him keep one of the Drookonuses they’d brought for this mission.
The devices held a vast amount of Drook power, more than enough to drive their ship for months if need be. And Hozark had brought an extra. For the assassin to take that level of precaution spoke volumes of just how difficult this might be.
“We should be underway,” Hozark said. “Time is of the essence with Laskar in Visla Sunar’s grasp.”
“Lifting off in two minutes,” the pilot replied.
He appreciated Hozark and Demelza delaying their order-sanctioned hits to come with him on this dangerous rescue mission. It was not something Ghalian did. Ever. But Laskar, all of his faults aside, had performed well under pressure, and he had been captured attempting to help Hozark learn more about his former lover’s ties to their enemies.
Samara may have been killed during their last mission, and just after she had been discovered alive, no less, but at least they would know how she’d been wrapped up in that mischief. Hozark owed the man for that. For closure, where his unlikely enemy––his former lover––was concerned.
Loyalty was something the Ghalian took very seriously, and though he didn’t particularly like the man, and still harbored some doubts about him, Laskar had fallen into captivity while attempting to acquire intel on his behalf. A bit of closure for the man who, though he hadn’t shown how Samara’s loss affected him, had been shaken by it all the same.
And that had taken him to the world of Ahkrahn, of all places. Of course, Hozark knew it. Everyone did. A planet ruled by a powerful visla. Powerful not by his own internal magic, but rather, by the slave trade he controlled. For in addition to all manner of other races, from Drooks to basic laborers, to gladiators, Visla Sunar also ran the Ootaki trade for many, many systems, and that made him a very powerful man indeed.
His home of Ahkrahn was a lush world in a large system, its twenty-seven worlds and moons orbiting a blue giant sun, the rays of which gradually fed a small trickle of additional power into the Ootaki slaves’ hair, making it an ideal system for Sunar to set up his base of operations.
People came from the distant ends of the galaxy to seek out Ootaki from his stables. And while many coveted his wealth of the magic-bearing men, women, and children, none were foolish enough to attack him at home. He was simply surrounded by too much power. Power he’d carefully deployed in traps and wards all around his estate’s grounds. To attack his compound was to court death.
And Visla Sunar never ventured far from home.
His inner estate’s safety behind the Ootaki hair-fueled defenses made it a place of relaxation, and his most trusted allies and favored clients were occasionally granted visits within his walls, where the elite lived it up the way only the truly wealthy could.
Lesser visitors stayed outside the grounds in one of the neighboring cities. Ahkrahn may have been known for Sunar’s slave trade, but it was also a tranquil world in a pleasant system, one sought out for the restorative rays of its sun.
“We can’t just barge in there,” Uzabud said as they exited the fifth jump en route to Ahkrahn. “He has way too many wards in place. And with all of that Ootaki magic at his fingertips...”
“You are correct,” Hozark agreed. “We will need to find other means into the estate. And from what our spy network has heard, Laskar is not being held in the cells near the outer guard s
tation, as is the norm. Apparently, he is being held within the main compound itself.”
“Your spies know that? How did they even get inside?”
“The Ghalian have paid off a great many people for a great many years. So much so that the flow of what is seemingly innocuous information to them has become something of a mindless habit. We do not ask more than that of them, and their handlers sort the intelligence and refine it as needed. In this case, a simple observation of the arrival of a man fitting Laskar’s description was all it took to weave the threads together.”
“I knew you guys were dialed in on a lot of worlds, but this is more than I expected.”
“Ahkrahn is a place of particular interest due to the nature of its slave trade. Power moves are made there. Resources for expansions of power are acquired. For that reason, we pay particular attention to worlds of this type.”
“Makes sense,” Bud admitted. “Get an idea who’s about to stir up trouble just by seeing if they’re stocking up on Ootaki or Drooks. Pretty clever, actually.”
“We’ve not survived as an order for this long by being sloppy, my friend,” Hozark said. “Now, as for Laskar. If he is indeed being held in the innermost reaches of the estate, this will make his extraction particularly difficult.”
“What in the worlds did he do to warrant that?” Demelza wondered. “I mean, being captured for snooping is one thing, but to be held within Sunar’s sanctum? It is highly unusual.”
“I don’t know, but he must’ve really pissed the guy off,” Bud said.
“Knowing Laskar, I do not find that hard to fathom,” she replied.
Though he wouldn’t say it aloud to Hozark, Bud was glad Demelza was coming with them. He had no concerns or doubts about his friend’s legendary abilities, but the woman joining them had not only proven herself quite a badass on their last outing, she had also been the one to take down Visla Horvath.
He had been a powerful man, and when she fed on him, that power became hers. She was topped up on magic, and as this would quite possibly be a magic-heavy mission, having someone on their team with that kind of internal supply, as well as her robust konuses and slaaps, was a great force multiplier for them.
“What are you staring at, Uzabud?” she asked, noting his gaze.
“What? Oh, nothing,” he said, blushing slightly. “I’m just glad you’re part of the team is all.”
Hozark’s face remained impassive, but inside, he cringed slightly. Team. He was not fond of that word. Wampeh Ghalian worked alone. It was their way. But they adapted when need be. They improvised. They did whatever was necessary to overcome the obstacles placed before them and complete their objective. Even if it meant working with others.
“How many more jumps, Uzabud?” Hozark asked.
“Only two more. It’s a good thing you brought extra Drookonuses. I doubt we’ll need ‘em, but man, it’s a long way to Ahkrahn.”
“We have Drook power to spare, Bud,” he replied.
“Yeah, I guess so. And no need for a crew of Drooks to feed and house,” the former pirate replied.
He’d flown on plenty of ships with crews of Drook slaves powering them. In fact, that was the norm. The race had been bound into slavery, their very specific manner of magic powering craft of all types since longer than any could remember. It had simply always been that way.
They were a slave race at this point, and while some might be mistreated by the basest of rabble, Drooks were treated far better than even lower ranking ship’s crews, for the most part. It was an enslaved life, but at least it was a comfortable one. And since they ran the ships, that was how it needed to be.
But their stored power channeled into a Drookonus provided a freedom of movement between vessels that was a great advantage, if one had the coin to procure one, that is. But for the millenias-old order of high-price assassins, money was really no object, though they never spent their coin frivolously.
“Okay, we should be there in two jumps,” Bud said. “Hang on to your bootstraps; we’re almost there.”
Moments later, the ship jumped away in a flash of magic.
Chapter Eight
Uzabud’s jumps were expertly plotted, and their arrival within Ahkrahn’s system went about as smoothly as could be hoped for. They’d exited the jump just within orbit of the twelfth planet from the blue sun, a common destination and safe enough distance from their target world so as to avoid any scrutiny.
So far as any could tell, they were just another ship on another run-of-the-mill trip to one of the system’s many planets for trade or recreation. But this ship carried not one, but two Wampeh Ghalian. And they had dangerous work ahead of them.
That, however, was not something they could launch into headfirst. There was simply no way they could hope to come at Sunar’s compound head-on and survive. They had to come up with another plan. And, thanks to the Ghalian spy network, an unexpected alternative presented itself.
“You want to do what, now?” Bud blurted when Hozark floated his idea. “I mean, we’ve done some crazy shit, don’t get me wrong. But this?”
“I understand your concern, Bud, but this is literally killing two Borzinghi with one stone,” Hozark replied. “The opportunity to complete not only my tasked contract, but to also utilize my target’s resources to further this rescue attempt is too good to pass up.”
“But you’re talking about Captain Dortzal. The Captain Dortzal.”
“And?”
“And? And he’s one of the most dangerous slave traders in the systems. The guy’s brutal, and vicious, and––”
“And the perfect cover for us to land within Visla Sunar’s defenses once we eliminate him and commandeer his ship. The good captain has been raiding smaller systems of late, apparently taking a great number of slaves for the Council. His ship will be the perfect entry vessel.”
“I agree with Hozark,” Demelza said. “It seems to be a perfect ruse. We eliminate the captain, completing Hozark’s contract. He then takes his place, and we land within Sunar’s defenses as if it were a normal visit. Thus, we bypass any nasty business working our way inside, and no one shall be the wiser.”
“But what if they catch on? And what if they make us land outside the compound? Then we’d still have to find our way in through all of those defenses. Have you thought about that?”
Hozark chuckled. “Bud, your very reaction to hearing Dortzal’s name should answer that question for you. A man of his reputation would not be treated as an ordinary visitor.”
For all of his uncertainties, Bud knew the assassin was right. Though Visla Sunar was a powerful man, capable of demanding fealty of most who passed through his doors, one such as Captain Dortzal would be treated with a certain degree of deference.
And as a slave trader, and one who had likely provided many Ootaki to the visla over the years, no less, Dortzal had undoubtedly earned that respect.
“So, I guess that’s it, then,” Bud grumbled. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Yet you were all gung-ho and ready to charge into Visla Sunar’s compound,” Demelza noted.
“To rescue Laskar, yes. He’s my crew. I have a duty of care.”
“And yet, taking out a far easier target is what has you concerned,” Hozark chuckled. “Oh, my dear Uzabud, you continue to surprise me.”
“Glad to provide some amusement,” Bud groused. “So, what’s the plan, then?”
“We will utilize one of the more disposable of the spare craft you keep mounted to the hull. I think the Fahkran skimmer should do just fine.”
“That piece of junk? It’s pretty fast, but its defensive spells are incredibly glitchy.”
“Precisely.”
“So we do what with it, exactly? Leave it floating out in space for them to salvage? I mean, it’s not good for much. It doesn’t seem like they’d waste their time on an empty junker like that.”
“Empty? Oh, it won’t be empty,” Hozark said with a wicked grin.
�
�I do not like the sound of that.”
“I’m sorry, Bud, but for this plan to succeed, I’m afraid you will need to be ‘captured’ by Captain Dortzal. It’s the only way we can be certain the crew will all be on board with the story we are creating.”
“But he might just as soon kill me, Hozark. Have you considered that?”
“Of course, my dear Uzabud. But never fear. It will not be the real Captain Dortzal you encounter.”
“No?”
“No. I will have entered the ship and taken his place long before you ever set foot aboard.”
“But how do you plan to do that?”
“We have our ways,” he said with a wry grin. “Demelza, I shall require you to accompany Bud on his capture.”
“I had assumed as much,” she replied.
“But if she’s captured too, what good does––”
“She will not be captured, Bud. She will be under cover of a shimmer cloak aboard your craft when it is taken.”
“Exactly,” she said. “I will then follow you aboard Captain Dortzal’s ship, where I will shed my camouflage and disguise myself as a new transfer to the ship, upon which I will blend in with the actual crew well.”
“You see, Bud, if all goes according to plan, the only actual person we will need to eliminate will be the captain himself. It is far easier to complete the illusion we require if the entirety of the crew is actually comprised of true Tslavar mercenaries.”
Bud didn’t like it. Not one bit. But he had to admit there was a certain elegance to the plan. Using the real slave-trading mercenaries to complete the disguise, and all without their knowledge? It was a stroke of genius. But then, that was why Hozark was one of the most sought-after and highest-paid assassins in the galaxy.
While others might waste the blood and magic of thousands storming the gates of such a facility, his Wampeh friend would stroll right through the front doors. Better yet, he would be readily invited in.
“All right,” Bud grumbled. “What do I need to do?”
