The Dead Worlds

by T. R. Harris

  Jay still had on the bulky heavy coat; he took it now and draped it over his shoulders, covering the back of his head. The garment reached to the ground, forming more of a cloak than a jacket. Taking a deep breath, he rose up from under the starship and began to walk purposefully out from under the stubby wing that still radiated a fair amount of heat from the landing. He knew it would look odd him wearing a heavy coat in the warmth of Kanac, especially on the blistering tarmac. But confidence was his disguise. He strode off as if he belonged here, heading for the terminal building.

  Captain Lospen Calos was met by a waiting transport and driven into town. He carried with him one of the super energy weapons, anxious to show it off to his boss. In his opinion—and based on his experience—he was one of the smartest of the pirate captains, bringing with him a military background. It allowed him a small command of his own early in his career with the raiders. However, this latest find would make him a legend in the corps.

  With the help of the ship’s computers, Calos already had a rough estimate of the value of the weapons. It was hard to believe, and at the standard captain’s cut, Lospen was about to become a very rich pirate, in fact, richer than anyone he knew, except for his boss.

  The ride into Kanac was short; however, getting to the central district took longer through the traffic. When the vehicle pulled up to the building, it was nothing to look at, just a prefab construction made of unpainted laminate and standing six stories tall. Not much in Kanac had paint. It didn’t need it. Most of the town was so new—less than two local years old—that there hadn’t been time for weathering. Even so, many of the older buildings had already been torn down and rebuilt to make way for newer structures as fortunes shifted or needs changed.

  Captain Calos made his way into the building, carrying a sample of his precious cargo in an arc-welder case he found in the workshop of his ship. It fit nicely, while not giving away any of its secrets. Lospen wanted the weapon to be a surprise.

  He entered the outer office and was greeted by a pair of burly guards who eyed him with suspicion, even though they knew who he was.

  “What is your business?” asked a leather-skinned creature with double sets of fangs curving out of his mouth. His name was Eksee, and he knew Lospen well.

  “I have something for the boss. I am sure he will want to see this.”

  “What is it?”

  Eksee reached for the carrying case. Lospen pulled it back.

  “He will want to be the first to see the item. You do not want to take that pleasure from him? Don’t delay. Tell him I am here.”

  For a tense moment, the two aliens faced off before Eksee reluctantly backed away and entered the next office. He returned a moment later, motioning the raider captain to enter.

  Dal Divisen didn’t get up from his desk. He remained seated, scrutinizing a computer screen, looking frustrated. He shook his head and then turned from the monitor, as if noticing the pirate for the first time.

  “I have told you never to come here unannounced.” Dal’s voice was deep and melodic, although the message was clear; he wasn’t happy. “I see you also landed at the Kanac SP. There is a chance your ship could be recognized. You do not kill all you encounter. There are witnesses.”

  “Forgive, Dal, but I bring great news … the greatest news.”

  Dal leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes boring into the pirate captain. “You presume a lot, for a scab pirate with neither home nor family. Who are you to be the judge of what is great and what is not?”

  Lospen remained standing, but now shuffling nervously in front of the desk. Dal Divisen was the most powerful being in Kanac—indeed, on L-3—and his spontaneous temper was legend. The captain set the case on Dal’s desk and opened it, wanting to impress his boss before he lost control over the unexpected nature of Lospen’s arrival.

  Dal rose from his seat, his eyes focused on the dark grey instrument inside the case.

  “What have you brought me, Captain Calos? Is this a gift to celebrate the date of my birth?”

  “Is it your birth date?” Lospen stammered. He was not aware.

  “No, it is not, you scab. I was being light.” Dal removed the weapon from the case and cradled it in his hands. “A strange design; where did you find it?”

  “On Hax’on. It is a weapon of superior capabilities, more than I have ever experienced, even during my military days.”

  Dal had already fingered the power control, being shocked by the sudden energizing of the rifle. “It is light. And what is this?” Dal listened to the faint report made by the weapon, announcing its status. Once local translation bugs were identified, the display screen switched to the dominant language. Dal’s mouth fell ajar as he read the stats.

  “Unbelievable,” he breathed. “And in such a compact size.”

  “It is as it says. And I have not recharged the batteries. It is operating on those originally placed within.”

  Dal pointed the rifle at the other side of his spacious office and pulled the trigger.

  “No, do not!”

  Lopsen was too late.

  The brilliant blue ball of excited plasma shot out of the barrel, striking the opposite wall and burning a tiny round hole in the material. Someone in the adjourning room screamed, and Dal’s two guards burst into the office, MK-17s at the ready. Flash weapons—even rifles—would not normally penetrate walls, but this one did, as well as the wall on the other side of the second office.

  “I am all right,” Dal said almost nonchalantly to the guards while gazing dreamily at the rifle. “I was merely testing the gift our friend Captain Calos has brought us. Step outside.”

  The guards hesitated only a moment—eyeing Lospen with contempt—before departing. They had allowed Lospen to enter Dal’s office carrying a weapon. They knew that once Dal came to his senses, there would be punishment coming their way.

  “We fired the weapons on Hax’on. Adjustable power, incredible range, and as you see, ninety bolts even at full power. Lower settings would place the capacity in the hundreds.”

  “You say you fired the weapons, as in more than just this one?”

  “Yes, Dal. We found a large number of them, all ready for shipment.”

  Dal frown and turned his attention to the pirate captain. “How many?” his tone had shifted, something which confused Lopsen.

  “Fifty A-9 shipping containers. I estimate a total of twenty thousand rifles.”

  Dal remained staring at the captain for a long time until Lopsen began to once again shift in his stance. There was no expression on the dark face of his boss.

  “As I said, there are many,” Lospen finally said, trying to elicit a response. “I’ve estimated the value of the lot at over sixty million JCs. Governments would pay in excess of three thousand credits each for these. This must be the largest salvage in the entire Zone. And it is all yours, Dal. Yours and mine.”

  “You say you found these on Hax’on?”

  “Yes, Dal.”

  “The planet Hax’on?”

  “Yes,” Lospen replied again, even more confused. “In the Tainsin Manufacturing facility.”

  Dal laughed, which made Lopsen relax, somewhat. “I know of Tainsin. We have Tainsin food processors in the building. What are twenty thousand super weapons doing at Tainsin?”

  “They were stored in their warehouses, crated for shipment.”

  “To where?”

  Lospen shook his head. “I know not.”

  Dal casually moved the barrel of the weapon until it pointed at Lospen’s chest. “So, you found twenty thousand of these rifles, awaiting shipment at a manufacturing facility where they should not exist.”

  “I … I.”

  “And your scab-mind has placed their value at sixty million Juirean credits.”

  “With computer assistance I estimated the value.”

  “And how did you happen upon this incredible treasure, Captain Calos?”

  “I followed a speeder from L-3 on the chance he was
out to survey a salvage. When he returned with a crew to complete the operation, we set upon him and took the weapons.”

  Dal frowned. “The salvager had a large enough operation to decontaminate fifty A-9 shipping containers? Why have I not heard of such a large operation? I control the salvage business in Kanac.”

  “I do not know, Dal. However, I believe the salvager was not aware of the total count. He only deconned the contents of one warehouse. My crew and I discovered the rest.” Lospen puffed out his chest a little larger, signifying pride in the initiative he and his crew took in finding the hidden cache.

  Appearing exhausted, Dal returned the weapon to the case and then slumped down in his chair. He motioned for Lospen to sit.

  After a long pause, Dal spoke. “I suppose you are pleased with the news you have brought me today?”

  “Of course. This is a huge find. The largest.”

  “And you see no problem with that?”

  Now Lopsen was truly confused. A problem with sixty million Juirean credits? What is wrong with Dal?

  “Allow me to put this in perspective, Captain Calos. Twenty thousand superweapons, built in a secret location and worth—in your estimate—sixty million Juirean credits do not just happen to appear. Entities somewhere designed and ordered these weapons, enough weapons I might add to win a war. Now tell me, Captain Calos, what happens when those willing to engage in a war learn that their secret weapons are secret no more? What will they do when said weapons begin appearing all around the Kidis Frontier and beyond? And what of MK and Xan-fi? These devices are superior to any they now produce. Will they sit idly by while their businesses collapse?”

  “But, but we sell them. Once knowledge of the weapons become known, they will become the standard.”

  Dal nodded. “That is correct if the knowledge is disseminated in any large-scale manner. Is it not more likely that the powerful entities with the technological means to devise such weapons—along with the credits to build them—might not be too happy to learn we have spirited away their secret cache?”

  “How will they know? We sell them—”

  “To whom, Captain Calos? Anyone who buys them will become instantly known, and that will undoubtedly lead back to us. Yes, the builders—these creatures about to wage planetary or regional war—may simply forgive us for upsetting their carefully laid plans. Or they may not. I may be strong on L-3, but compared to the beings who own these weapons, I am but … but a scab, much like you. I am afraid, Captain Calos, that you have stolen items which will be impossible to sell safely, and unbelievably dangerous to hold. The mere knowledge of their existence could spell our doom.”

  “But, Dal, this cannot be. They are worth a fortune!”

  Dal leaned back even more in his chair and waved a hand at Lopsen. “Then, by all means, Captain Calos, take the weapons, and you sell them. You are a being of intelligence and ability. Such action is not beyond you. You are welcome to try.”

  “I, I do not have the resources for such a transaction. And if you are correct, even selling a few will advertise the fact that I have more.”

  “And now you grasp my dilemma.” Dal leaned forward, locking his dark eyes on the captain. “I maintain a very careful balance on L-3 and in The Zone. I cater to all sides of the transaction, from salvagers and suppliers, to starship power modules, to the buying and selling of the riches coming out of the dead worlds. I also maintain the largest—and most secretive—pirate fleet in the region. I must maintain my cover as a semi-legitimate business-being else I lose one or both of my operations. Either I become a renegade pirate, or I remain a respected operator of various planet-side businesses. At the moment, I have it both ways. However, the special gift you have brought me today has put all that in jeopardy. So, what am I to do with you, and with your fifty containers of deadly energy rifles?”

  “I, I do not know.”

  “They are on Masnin?”

  Lopsen nodded. “Well hidden underground.”

  “Good, let them remain there. Now, tell me, Captain Calos, who initiated the original salvage? You say a being came from L-3 and that he knew what he was looking for, at least partially?”

  “That is correct. He knew the exact warehouse to search.”

  “I assume he and his crew are no more?”

  “Yes, Dal. As protocol, we removed all evidence of the raid.”

  “Who was he, this lead salvager?”

  “I do not know him specifically, but from a species survey, I believe him to be a Human.”

  Once again, Dal sat transfixed, staring at Lopsen with an expressionless face. When he spoke again, his voice was even lower than normal and lacking any of its usual singsong quality. It was now as cold as ice.

  “A Human? Was his crew Human as well?”

  “No, an assortment.”

  “And you are sure this Human is dead?”

  Lospen hesitated only a second, but it was enough for Dal to notice.

  “Is there a question?” Dal asked.

  “I did not supervise the removal of the bodies. I am the captain; I have others who do that. But all the crew and security forces were killed. We set a trap and surprised them from behind. Everyone onsite was killed and disposed of in space. I assure you.”

  “Yet, you cannot verify the death of the Human?”

  “Not personally.”

  Dal took a deep breath. “It is too late now to verify. This is something I will have to accept unless other information comes forth. But you say the Human knew the location of the weapons?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Then we are in luck, Captain Calos, for I just happen to know where the Humans on Liave-3 congregate. It is conveniently located at the same place they run a salvage business.”

  “The other Humans know of the weapons!”

  “It would appear so. Fortunately for you, Captain Calos, that may be a benefit to us.”

  Lospen frowned. “I do not understand. How can the Humans knowing of the weapons help us?”

  “Leave that to me. Are all the weapons on Masnin?”

  “No, I have four containers on my ship.”

  “The ship you have at the Kanac Spaceport?” Dal let out a deep sigh.

  “Yes.”

  “And your crew, where is your crew?”

  “Some are aboard, while others were released for leisure time. I was anticipating unloading the containers at the spaceport … for you.”

  “Collect your crew, all of them. Make sure they have not spoken to anyone regarding the weapons. If any have, find out to whom and let me know. Then you are to leave Liave-3 and return to Masnin. Unload your cargo and then wait there for my instructions. None of your crew are to be let off your ship, not until I say so.”

  Lopsen stood up, anxious to leave the office. He reached for the case and the super energy rifle.

  “Leave that here. And make sure none of the weapons are removed from your ship or from Masnin. I hope now you realize how dangerous that could be. Are my instructions clear?”

  “Perfectly, Dal. Again, I apologize for my shortsightedness. I did not think the matter through completely. I will make amends.”

  Dal smiled, although it did not convey humor. “I know you will, Captain Calos. I know you will.”

  15

  Riyad didn’t feel guilty about not telling Sherri and Adam about what salvage Jay was after, at least not a lot. Yes, he had one of the superweapons, but he was only going to reveal its existence to justify the expense of the operation, to give him time to sell the rifles and make his profit. But with no salvage to sell, it would have only infuriated his friends more to know he’d sponsored a gunrunning operation. He left the store as soon as possible, knowing that if he stayed any longer he would have been forced to tell them about the weapons.

  Now he was in the one thing the team had retained from their affiliation with the Arieel Bol and the Formilians; a Bokiss-Class starship which Sherri cryptically named the Tirrell Joyner. The ship wasn’t a cargo
hauler, but it was armed—and to the teeth. Considering how dangerous it was to transit The Zone, Riyad felt he could handle just about anything that came his way in the Joyner. And in his present mood, he was actually hoping someone would challenge him. He hadn’t killed an alien in a long time. He was having withdrawals.

  And now he was depressed, having screwed up big time, risking not only the best freighter they had but thousands of credits worth of supplies, as well as the life of a friend. And all in pursuit of a potential payoff. Sure, it would have been a substantial payoff, but that was beside the point. He should have let Adam and Sherri know what he was doing. That would have been the right thing to do.

  As he neared Hax’on, he had the location of the manufacturing facility on his screen. Jay had given him the coordinates before he left as a sign of good faith. Riyad sighed. He wasn’t holding out much hope that Jay and his crew were alive. Although many pirate raids resulted in nothing more than stolen goods without the loss of life, he knew that when weapons were involved, no one was left to talk about it. He came to Hax’on on the very slim chance that the Ed Gibson would be sitting on the surface, abandoned by the pirates. It could even have been damaged in the raid to a point where it couldn’t fly. That would be okay, too. Kaylor and Jym could get it going again, of that he was sure. Return of the ship would appease Adam and Sherri, to a degree.

  He was also hoping to find some leads as to who attacked Jay and his people. Most pirate raids were accepted and quickly forgotten since there was no governing authority in The Zone to investigate the crimes. Maybe the pirates got careless. All Riyad needed was a thread to follow. And if he did manage to locate the pirates who did this, then it seemed only fair that they should donate one of their larger ships as compensation for the Ed Gibson. And Riyad wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  He brought the Formilian warship down through the atmosphere then circled above the vast grounds of the facility, getting his bearings. He could see clearly the patchwork of warehouses set off by themselves, which in better times, would have been full of product awaiting shipment to various parts of the galaxy. Unfortunately, he didn’t see any starships resting on the ground. A detailed surface scan using the magnification feature also failed to pick up any bodies strewn about. Like good little pirates, the killers picked up after themselves.