by Scott Baron
It was a short walk back to the waiting swarm ship, which was resting exactly as it had been left. Even the external wards were in place protecting it.
“Ahznal provicto,” the man said, the passphrase lowering the defenses and allowing him and his guest into the craft. “I’m back!” he called out. There was no reply. He grinned. “The others must be sleeping. Come on. My quarters are this way,” he said in a husky voice, eager to reach his accommodations.
“I like your ship,” Laskar said in a similarly excited tone. “It’s nice and cozy.”
“My room is cozier,” the man replied, taking him by the hand.
A few short corridors later, they stepped into his room. A Wampeh sitting on his bed was not what the poor man had been expecting.
He turned to run just as Demelza dropped her shimmer cloak, blocking the doorway. He looked at the two Wampeh, then turned to his amorous would-be lover.
“Sorry, dude,” Laskar said with an amused grin.
“Shall we begin?” Hozark asked.
“Oh, we shall,” Demelza replied, her fangs sliding into place as she smiled.
Laskar knew it was an act to loosen the man’s lips, but say what you would about the woman, she most definitely put the terror in interrogation.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A few days later, an unassuming ship jumped into the relatively remote system where Billian’s swarm fleet was residing. An unassuming ship bearing the subtle markings identifying it as one of their own, and responding with the correct countersigns when contacted over skree.
The hundreds of craft were eager to head to their next destination, but they waited as patiently as spacefaring scavengers could. They’d be moving on soon enough, but they all knew a proper restock was vital before they did so.
Fortunately, the ship that had just arrived was laden with supplies, though it had made it back a day later than the other craft out on resupply runs. But that sort of thing was common among those existing on the fringes of society.
“You’re clear to dock,” a gruff man called out over skree.
“Be there in a minute,” Hozark replied in an equally gritty tone. “We’ve got a full load ready to go.”
“Excellent. Be seein’ ya soon,” the man replied, then shut off the skree.
When the assassins had commandeered the hapless crew’s ship, it had already been largely filled with the items on their procurement manifest. But the Wampeh were well accustomed to the necessity of a little something extra to ease passage, and as such, they picked up a healthy supply of items not on the manifest.
Fine foods, sweets, and, of course, all manner of alcohols with which to dull one’s mind and brighten one’s spirits. All were carefully tucked away, ready to be offered as needed.
The thing about the swarm was it was a conglomerate of craft and crews, all of which contributed to the general welfare of the whole. It had worked quite well for them so far, and there did not seem to be any reason to change it any time soon.
Palms could most certainly be greased, however. A socialized system in no way meant that particular way of doing business had been done away with, and having someone trade for the finer things in life, either for goods and services, or simply to look the other way once in a while, was as common as black market hooch and gambling.
Bribes weren’t needed here. But favors? Everyone could use a little help from time to time.
“Get these distributed,” Hozark growled to the men boarding his stolen ship as they began sorting the stacks of crates, then cast floating spells to aid them in offloading them from the craft.
Only the captain of the ship would have been of any note, and as such, Hozark had taken on his appearance in case their contact upon arrival happened to know the man. But in a swarm of so many craft, those odds were slim.
But slim had a way of turning into substantial, in his experience, so the additional precaution was worth the minimal expenditure of magic. As for Demelza, Bud, and Laskar, they were just crew, and crew was constantly changing.
It seemed the foreman didn’t know the man Hozark was impersonating. That was a nice surprise. Also a nice surprise was the small box the disguised assassin handed the man when the others weren’t looking.
“A little thank you for your help offloading only those crates,” he said to the gruff man.
The foreman looked inside the little box, and his eyes widened with pleasant surprise. Finarkian snuff was hard to come by, and quite pricey. How this particular transport captain had known to bring it to him was something he didn’t care about in the slightest. All that mattered was his little box. His precious.
“Those ones, eh?” he said, eyeing the several smaller crates that would be left aboard. “Of course, friend. Happy to oblige.”
He then turned and began bellowing to his workers once more, directing them what to move and where to disburse the cargo. As for the containers not on his manifest? He was quite happy to look the other way.
“How did you know he’d go for that?” Laskar asked when the last of the designated crates was offloaded. “That was a really lucky guess.”
Hozark laughed. “Luck, my friend, has nothing to do with it.”
He opened a nearby crate and showed the contents to the startled man. Multiple small boxes were nestled inside, each of them containing a different item. Something for every vice.
“You saw the tremble in his hand, didn’t you?” Uzabud asked.
“Yes.”
“And the discoloration just inside his nostrils,” Demelza added. “Though that was a bit harder to see, for obvious reasons.”
“You guys are something else,” Laskar marveled. “Like, that was actually impressive.”
“The rest of it wasn’t?” Bud asked, rhetorically.
What he was referring to was the manner in which they had not only stocked up the little cargo ship, but how they had gained full control of it and its magical countersigns without having to resort to a single bit of torture.
Demelza’s target, the true captain of the little craft, had been so utterly terrified at the sight of not one, but two Wampeh Ghalian in his quarters, that he had shit himself with fear.
Literally.
It was a smell that required a fair bit of cleansing spells to eliminate.
Of course, his being rather inebriated at the time hadn’t hurt. Lowering inhibitions for making sexytime with the local talent he’d brought home from the pub was one thing. But when it came time to spill the details of his task, he had readily volunteered far more information than they even wanted.
Yes, they got the passphrases and countersigns that would allow them to approach and dock with the swarm fleet, but they’d also gotten an earful of intel about the assorted ruffians running much of the conglomerate’s business.
Most was trivial information, but a few tidbits actually seemed like they might be useful. And all were given up freely in hopes of them sparing his life.
Little did he know, they had no intention of killing him. Nor his crew, for that matter, though he had assumed the worst when they were nowhere to be found. Those had been easy enough to render unconscious and remove from the craft long before Laskar had lured him back to the ship.
Hozark had simply used a strong stun spell on the men and women aboard the craft. All but one, that is. He did question that sole individual briefly to ensure there were no additional crewmembers who might return at an inopportune moment.
But they were it. The entire crew in one place. It was almost laughably easy for the master assassin to carry out the rest of their plan. Each of the stunned crew was hidden in a crate, which he then loaded onto a conveyance that dropped him at an alleyway in a seedy part of town.
He then dumped the slumbering men and women, but not before he turned out their pockets to make it seem they’d overdone it at a pub and been robbed. To complete the picture, he also dosed them with a liberal amount of a rather potent alcohol native to that world. Copious quantities were also s
pilled on their clothing to complete the effect.
But that would be slept off in a day, and word of what had happened would get out. So, Hozark added a little something special to the liquor. It was a somewhat dangerous recreational drug refined from a mold that grew on the bristling quills of a little creature indigenous to a few blue sun systems.
It had been banned on several worlds, and for good reason. The drug, when taken in any significant quantity, could cause weeks of hallucinations and paranoid delusions. When the crew woke under its influence, anything they might claim would be shrugged off as mere side effects of the drugs.
On his way back to the now-empty ship, Hozark slipped a youth some coin to make sure they were discovered before any real muggers had their way with them. By morning they would wake in the local constable’s holding cells, and it would take weeks for them to properly come to their senses.
The captain, having coughed up any and everything they could possibly have needed to dock with the swarm, was dosed as well, though in his case, he received an extra-strong portion, just to be absolutely sure. They then acquired the last of the items on the manifest––with the coin aboard the ship, no less–and left the hapless crew behind.
There was no honor in killing innocents, and though these poor saps were part of the path to their ultimate target, they had done nothing to warrant losing their lives. But a few weeks of memories? That they could afford.
“I’m taking these,” Demelza said, slipping a few of the more exotic treats they had held back into a grubby satchel she’d found in one of the crew’s quarters.
“Here,” Hozark said, handing her a small konus. “It was on one of the crewmembers. Pathetically underpowered.”
“Perfect,” she said as she slid it onto her wrist. “Keep the ship ready. If all goes as planned, I should be back in no time.”
With that, she stepped into the linked network of spacecraft, following the path to Billian’s own vessel that the hapless captain had given her. It was a winding route, and she would have to pass through several attached ships to get there. Her bribes would help her with that part of her transit.
“So, now we wait,” Bud said, settling down into a seat.
“Are you sure she doesn’t need our help?” Laskar asked.
“You may trust me on this,” Hozark said with a wry grin. “It is not she who will be requiring help.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The walk through the interlinked craft to find Billian’s command ship would have been worthy of King Minos with all of the twists, turns, dead ends, and double backs. But Demelza walked with confidence. And unlike Theseus, she didn’t need a thread to help guide her.
With the swarm’s latest configuration of ships firmly locked away in her head, the Wampeh assassin was walking the route as if she had always known it.
“Where do you think you’re going?” a particularly muscular guard said as she drew close to the target vessel.
“Just delivering a few last packages from the supply run,” she said demurely.
“Go around.”
“But it’s so much longer if I do. Can’t you make an exception, just this once?”
“No exceptions. Go around.”
She had expected some pushback, and considering how bad things could have been, this really wasn’t all that bad. Demelza reached into her satchel and pulled out something this sort of man would find irresistible.
Not drugs to dull the mind or alcohol to relax it. No, this was a martial man. One who enjoyed his physical prowess. And what better to tempt him than with a beautiful phallic offering. And this one faintly glowed.
“I really am in a bit of a rush, but I’m sure we could come to an understanding,” she said, ‘accidentally’ dropping the enchanted blade on the ground and not seeming to notice.
Her intent was as clear as the fresh pools at Lake Sarkan, and, despite his knowing better, the guard couldn’t help but be tempted by the bit of shiny at his feet. An actual enchanted blade? Sure, it wasn’t a super powerful one, but a weapon such as this would still be a world of improvement over the dull knife strapped to his hip.
Exactly as she’d thought when she noted the old blade dangling from his belt. Just as Hozark had done, Demelza had quickly found the man’s weakness and exploited it.
“Well,” he started to say. And with that, he was lost.
She reached out and opened the door, flashing a bright smile as she passed through before he could change his mind. The door closed behind her, leaving the guard to collect his new prize and forget he ever saw the delivery girl.
What he didn’t know was the enchantment was temporary, and if he attempted to use it against a Ghalian, the limited magic she’d stored in the blade would backfire on its wielder. A little trick she’d used on more than one occasion.
She ducked into a side corridor that led to a small passage allowing her to access the outermost layer of Billian’s craft. She was aboard. All that remained was extracting the information she sought from the man and making her escape.
With a confident stride, she walked the route to the salvage captain’s inner set of chambers. The guard she came across this time was much easier to handle. She’d made it this far, after all, and in order for anyone to do so, they would have had to have the proper clearances.
“Passphrase?” the guard asked.
“Delmarian Salingahr,” she replied.
He nodded once, then stepped aside. Demelza reached out and opened the door, stepping through into the chamber. It was a rather ornate room, The better bits of salvage had obviously been held back by Billian for his own use. But there was no time to gawk at his gaudy display. There was work to do.
Not the one to her right, but the door straight across the chamber was the one she sought, and it would lead her right into the heart of her target’s den. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Rough hands grabbed her and spun her around, forcing her against the wall at knifepoint.
“Who the hell are you?” a deep, gravelly voice demanded in her ear.
“I’m just the delivery––”
“Liar!” the man growled, spinning her around until she was face-to-face with him.
Billian was even more striking in person, though not in a pleasant way. His jaw flexed angrily as he sized up his captive. Behind him, five guards strolled into the room, all with the same amused expression. One, she noted, was a familiar face and was carrying her enchanted blade.
“I was just trying to finish my rounds. I have things to deliver,” she said, reaching for her satchel.
“Take it,” Billian ordered.
One of his men snatched the pouch from her shoulder and dumped the contents onto a nearby table.
“Not much,” the captain said as he looked through the little treasures. “But still enough to bribe some of my ship’s guards.”
The man with the enchanted knife stood still, hoping to remain anonymous a bit longer. Lucky for him, with the curvy woman in front of him, Billian was a bit distracted, and the man’s wish was granted.
Billian menacingly ran his hands over his captive, admiring her form before stopping at her hands. “Pathetic,” he said as he snatched the little konus from her wrist. “Barely enough magic to make me dinner, woman. But I’m sure I can find other uses for you.”
A loud slap punctuated his words, and Demelza’s head jerked to the side. Another followed, then another, until tears began streaming from the poor woman’s face, punctuated by rough sobs.
This seemed to please him greatly.
“Bind her. Tie her to the chair,” he ordered.
The men swung into action, forcing their captive to sit as they quickly tied her hands and feet. In mere moments, she was totally immobilized.
“Oh, yes. You are going to be my little plaything,” Billian said, pacing in front of her like a cat studying a mouse, but unsure exactly what he was going to do with it yet. “I will have you. I will break you,” he menaced.
He stepped back. That was a name he hadn’t heard in a long time. And more importantly, there was no way this woman could possibly have known about her.
“How do you know that name?”
“I know things,” she replied. “I know you.”
He looked at the fierceness in her gaze and couldn’t help but appreciate her spirit. And that would make her all the more fun to break.
“There is more to you than meets the eye, my trussed-up intruder.”
“And the same could be said about you,” she replied. “A simple swarm fleet, salvaging and avoiding notice? Is that what you’ve told your men?”
The guards looked at one another, a bit confused.
“That is what we are doing. I’ve not lied to my men.”
“Minara was from Vassitar. She and her people were my friends, and believe me, I’ve heard all about your little raiding missions in their system and a dozen others nearby. You killed her family.”
“You’re mistaken. Cocky, but mistaken.”
“You lie to your men. I know you were there.”
His men chuckled, as did he. “Oh, dear. You’re trying so hard to get a rise out of me. Why? To buy yourself a little time? That won’t help you in the long run. And you may as well cease your little game. I might go easier on you if you do. At first, anyway.”
“You were there, and I can prove it.”
“Oh, give it a rest, woman. I’ve not been anywhere near Vassitar, or that system, in ages, and my men know it. I heard of the attacks in the area, but we were systems away.”
“Yeah, we were clear across the galaxy at Garvalis. Just ask Visla Horvath,” one of the guards said with a laugh.
Billian flashed him an angry look that immediately silenced the man. Tormenting the prisoner was one thing, but loose lips were not allowed.
And speaking of lips, Demelza’s had acquired the faintest hint of a smile.
