Unable to move, barely able to breathe, Mira couldn’t mount an effective resistance as she was lifted and carried through the hall. Going in and out of consciousness from the effect of the venom, she felt the world fading away from her senses in a rising tide of black.
Clint bounded onto the shuttle, relieved to hear the shrill voices of the ‘Lites, arguing in the rear cabin reserved for passengers. Pleased they’d arrived on time and with no problems, he scanned the seats in the front, expecting to find Mira among the tired crew members. He was going to tease her about her night out with the spoiled rich kids and apologize for screwing up on the promised dance. But she wasn’t there.
“Where’s Mira?” he asked Sella.
The stewardess blinked bloodshot eyes and yawned. “Ask her new friends, in first class. She didn’t come in with them is all I know.”
Clint went to the cockpit instead. With a puzzled frown, Shane took his focus off the instruments for a moment. “What?”
“Give me a minute before we leave,” the security officer said. “I think we’re missing someone.”
“Full load or not, I have my deadline from Captain Fleming to meet,” Shane said. “I can give you two minutes, no more. Passenger?”
Clint shook his head. “Crew. Be right back.”
He hastened to the private cabin, knocked and entered without waiting for permission. His heart thumped painfully as he scanned the faces and didn’t find Mira. “Where is she? The stewardess who joined your party last night?”
“Not our problem,” said the nearest man with a shrug. “Ask Lindy – she brought the tagalong.”
Clint swung to face the girl he indicated. “Well?”
“No idea. We got separated. When the event was done and we met at the limo, she wasn’t there.” Lindy rubbed her forehead and reclined her seat. “Maybe she met a guy hotter than you and stayed behind, y’know? When are we taking off? Do you have any headclear?”
“Where exactly in the city did you go?” With an effort, Clint kept his voice level.
Staggering a bit, the male ‘Lite rose from his seat, giving Lindy a warning glance. “We can’t help you, man. It was a private party. A limo picked us up and I have no idea where the place was. I don’t backseat drive. If you’re done interrogating us, we’d like to return to the cruise ship now. Go tell the pilot to take off, would you?”
Biting his lip to avoid uttering a scathing comment sure to get him in trouble for discourtesy to a passenger, Clint left their cabin. Frustrated, he returned to the cockpit. “I need to talk to my boss.”
Shane glanced pointedly at the chrono. “Running out of time, my friend. Unless you want to pull rank on me or declare an emergency-”
“Two more minutes. A girl’s life could be at stake.” Clint got out his AI and called his boss, Jake Dilon, head of security aboard the Nebula Zephyr.
Jake’s deep voice held amusement. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to the ship? What’s the delay?”
“We’re missing a crew member, a stewardess, Mira Gage. I want permission to stay behind and file a missing person report, see if I can find her.”
“People jump ship on occasion,” Jake said. “Or maybe she was in an accident. We’ll give the local police a report before we make the jump to hyperdrive. No reason for you to do it in person.”
“Something’s seriously wrong, sir. She left the club all the Zephyr crew were at, driving off with a party of ‘Lites, and now the passengers are here and she isn’t. None of the ‘Lites will say where their destination was last night, and claim Mira wandered off on her own. I don’t know her well but I can’t believe Mira’s the kind of person to abandon ship.” Avoiding the speculative stare he was receiving from Shane, Clint lowered his voice. “I’ve got a personal interest in the lady, sir, and she may have left with the ‘Lites because of a promise I broke. I can’t fly off in good conscience not knowing what happened to her.”
In orbit miles above, Jake was silent for a moment. “Six hours, that’s all I can spare you. We have a window before departure because there’s a late freight arrival from a major shipping agent. Fleming is ready to go supernova about it. You’ll have to catch a ride to the ship with the freight or you’ll be left behind. I’ll have no choice but to dock your pay for the next leg of the voyage. Might be a demotion if the captain gets mad enough. Hell, the Line could fire you. You sure this is worth it? Or do you want the locals to handle it?”
Clint didn’t hesitate, driven by an inner certainty Mira was in trouble. He wasn’t going to abandon her. If he’d claimed the dance he’d promised her last night, he bet she never would have gone with the ‘Lites, wouldn’t have been alone and vulnerable. She’d have been safe with him. Reflecting on his own actions, he had a hard time accepting how meekly he’d allowed Becca to monopolize his time. She was his past. He’d had glimmers of hope Mira might be his future, and he’d let her slip away. “I’m sure.”
“I’ll tell Cargo Master Embersson he might have two passengers on the tug. Don’t miss it.” Jake lowered his voice. “Keep me posted and call if you need backup. Be careful.”
Shane whistled as the link was cut from the Zephyr. “Man, you’re putting a lot on the line for a girl you haven’t even slept with.”
Clint didn’t dignify that with an answer, merely opened the cockpit door and left the shuttle. He borrowed a compact groundcar from the CLC Line agent, letting her believe he was on official Ship’s business, and drove to police headquarters. There he ran into a solid roadblock, eventually gaining an interview with one Detective Browlarr.
“Why are you so sure your crew member is in trouble, Officer Miltan?” asked the detective, sipping his mug of synth caff and toying with a stack of battered, old-fashioned folders.
Clint repeated his story of how Mira’d gone off with the ‘Lites, who were now tight lipped about their destination of the night before, including what the activities involved. “I tried calling her but her AI is dead or silenced.”
“So basically your gut’s telling you this lady got herself in trouble? No facts?” Browlarr frowned and pursed his lips. “What do you want us to do?”
“Search for her?” Clint kept his temper under control with an effort.
“Do you know how many transients go through our port on any given day? Crew and passengers? And she hasn’t even been missing a full planetary day. File a report and forget it, buddy, take my advice. If anything comes to light about her, we’ll forward the information to the Line.”
Browlarr passed Clint off to a desk sergeant to take the scant information he could offer about the case.
“This is a waste of time,” Clint said to the older woman with blue-green hair and matching nails. “I’ll see what leads I can follow on my own.”
The sergeant stared at the holo of Mira, taken from her guild personnel file. “She looks sweet. Same age as my daughter, I bet.”
Clint paused, hesitating. Clearly the woman was withholding information and he suspected she was trying to talk herself into sharing a key piece of data with him. “Mira’s a lovely person. This was her first cruise with us.”
“And your captain sent you to try to find her? I wish someone had done that much for my daughter when she went missing.”
Sensing an opportunity to help Mira, he let her assumption Captain Fleming had sent him slide by uncorrected and followed up on her comment about her own child. “Missing here? On this planet?”
“No, she worked for a cruise line too. It was in another Sector.” The woman sat tapping her fingers on the desk for a moment while Clint held his breath. “Shut the door,” she said.
He did so and slid into the rickety visitor’s chair across the desk from her.
“We’re aware of three designed experiences outside the port city limit last night. Could have been more. Outside our jurisdiction, technically speaking.” She gave him a sharp glance. “We only patrol and enforce within the city limit, you do know that?”
“Our passeng
ers and crew were warned and reminded numerous times. Mira would have been aware. Designed experiences?”
“Special events, each more illegal and dangerous than the next. Experiences you can’t get anywhere else. One-of-a-kind moments. The people who arrange them cater to the rich crowd, the bored--”
“The Socialites.”
She nodded. “Usually the promoters have good security, hire our off-duty officers or have their own armed bodyguard force. No one wants the rich clientele actually coming to grief, even if the whiff of danger is part of their allure.”
“But?”
“But every year we have a surprisingly large number of missing persons reports. Oh, not the highly visible people, but others, like your stewardess. My daughter. My guess is a lot more go missing but are never reported. We have huge numbers of transients pass through our port daily.” She stared at him. “If you weren’t involved, would anyone from your ship take action? Do more than file a report before leaving orbit?”
He hated to admit it, not wanting to cast aspersions on his captain and fellow officers, but truthfully, “No, probably not.”
“Exactly. Word on the street is we may have a nest of Innovana’a slavers operating here. The ringleaders run events, sure, but only as a front for the real operation, which is kidnapping humans and selling them outside the Sectors.”
“And your authorities ignore the situation, because it takes place conveniently outside the city limits?” His stomach churned at the thought of Mira and other innocents falling into the clutches of the merciless, reptilian bandits.
“Detective Browlarr’s working the case. He actually has a big task force, including undercover operatives, or so I’ve heard. A lot of credits are floating around, people paid to look the other way. He’s having a hard time making any arrests stick.” She shook her head. “Last guy he brought in was murdered in his cell before he could be interrogated, no trace of the killer on the vids. Takes a lot of credits to achieve that result. Wouldn’t surprise me if Browlarr sent you to me because he’d know I’d be sympathetic, given what happened to my Caris on her first cruise. He might think you could provide a break, if you go rogue and try to find this girl.” She tilted her head. “Are you gonna go off on your own investigation?”
Yes, he was. Clint checked his wrist chrono. Fleming had given him six hours and only four remained. “What can you tell me about the three events?”
She activated a map of the port city and then widened it to include the unpoliced area outside the city limits. Three red dots appeared in the badlands. “One was a drug-induced mind experience. Bizarre stuff happens at those, a lot of designer and cutting edge feelgoods, use of mind scalpels, but we know the promoter. No ties to the Innovana’a ring. People go to one of her events, they make it home. Unless their brain explodes.” The sergeant didn’t smile. It appeared she was serious. “Leaving two - this one, which as far as we can tell was on the highbrow side, rare wines and exotic foodstuffs, including delicacies banned in the Sectors. Meat from endangered species. Fish that are deadly poison unless prepared exactly right. Fruits containing deadly parasites. Eat the wrong bite and--” The sergeant drew her finger across her throat before tapping the remaining dot. “This was a concert, one of those groups who maintained for years that no amount of credits could get them together again on the same stage, hated each other’s guts, yet here they were. Credits talk apparently. The band members already flew out this morning on separate ships. No one’ll be asking them any questions.”
“The ‘Lites aren’t normally interested in food and wine tasting,” he said. “If you’re sure about your drug dealer, then the music venue is where my passengers took Mira as their guest. Do the Innovana’a hold their prisoners onsite or move them right away?”
She raised her hands in a shrug. “No idea. The location changes every time, the organizers never use the same place twice. That’s all I’ve got for you.”
He leaned over and gave her a hug. “Mira might have a chance, thanks to you.”
On his way out of the building to reclaim his borrowed groundcar, Clint called his boss. “Mira’s in the middle of a big mess.” Rapidly he recapped the situation as the police sergeant had explained it to him, continuing the discussion even as he was expertly driving through the city at the highest speed the stodgy vehicle could manage. “I’m on my way to the site now.”
“You have any weapons?” Jake asked.
“Personal stunner only, and knives. You know I couldn’t bring a blaster onto the planet.”
“Red and I are deploying to your location, with blasters. You need someone to watch your six. I might bring Jayna too.”
“I appreciate the offer, boss, but then you’re jeopardizing your career and theirs.”
“You let me worry about our careers. I can handle the captain. Do you want me to question the ‘Lites?”
As he navigated through the border delineating the end of the patrolled city limits, Clint considered. “No, I think the passengers told me everything relevant. The cop said guests like the ‘Lites and generational billionaires aren’t in on the scam but their presence at events is used by the organizers to draw wanna-be’s and fans, and the predators cull victims from their ranks.”
“Nasty but effective.”
“Let me find the place, assess the situation. If I locate Mira, if I need reinforcements, I’ll call, I give you my word.”
“I’ll be ready. Dilon out.”
This is an epic hangover. I need headclear. Mira’s tongue felt numb and thick, and her head ached. She tried to raise her hand to rub her temples and found she was paralyzed from the neck down. Her limbs refused to obey her commands. Panic churned in her gut as she recalled the scene at the illegal concert and being struck by the conductor’s venom. Able to turn her head with effort, she studied the room she was in, reassured to find herself in the same warehouse, judging by the weathered walls and industrial type ceiling. When she looked to the right she was horrified to see human bodies stacked to the ceiling, lying in clear cases. Complicated tubing ran from somewhere out of her sight, threading into each container, so perhaps the people weren’t dead. Paralyzed, like I was. Or in cryo sleep. The awful sight boosted her adrenaline and she tried harder to move. Unable to exert fine control over her limbs, she was rocking from side to side, hoping to roll off the surface where she lay, when she was grabbed and held tight.
“Not so fast, little human,” said the conductor, lifting her with ease and carrying her through the large room, past more stacks of imprisoned sentients. “You’re now my special piece of merchandise, a side deal. I had you thawed out this morning to satisfy a pending request for a captive meeting your general specifications. Much better for me to sell you to this buyer for a commission, than let you go to the Shemdylann in a big lot.”
“You – you’re selling us?” She got the words out, labored but clear enough to her ears.
“Indeed. There are those who pay a great deal for your kind, out beyond the Sectors.” He flicked his gaze at her for a moment as he continued to walk, now passing robos loading stacks of the clear cages onto cargo haulers. “My special customer likes to play with what he eats before he dines. You’ll do nicely. Provide enough amusement and he might even let you live longer than his last slave did. I’m told human limbs can be regenerated, up to a point.”
Mira thought she was going to be sick but the paralysis kept her rebellious stomach muscles in check. “You’ll never get away with this.”
“We get away with this, as you put it, all the time. Your human authorities are either uncaring or stupid, or too preoccupied with the Mawreg war to spend energy on smaller operators like me. My merchandise and I slip through their fingers like so many silvery shooting stars.” He juggled her awkwardly for a moment while opening a portal. “Of course I do pay significant bribes.”
None too gently, her captor laid her on a rusting table. “I have arrangements to oversee. I’ve stung you again, by the way. The new dose of veno
m won’t wear off before I return to collect you,” he said. “And then we’re going on board my ship.” He took her jaw in one hand, turning her head left and right, before fingering her hair, a frown on his face. “You’ll need a few cosmetic modifications to completely match the specifications the customer wants. Nothing we can’t accomplish on my ship. Behave and I’ll let you go through the painful procedures unconscious.”
Mira tried to control her fear, and to project the impression she was more paralyzed than she actually was.
The conductor allowed her head to fall against the table with a thud. Chuckling to himself, he left the room, the portal slamming shut behind him.
Mira rolled off the table, keeping herself from falling with a desperate grab at the corners. Slowly she gathered her legs under her and turned to look desperately around the small, windowless cubicle. Other than the table she’d been placed on and a pile of rotted wire and rusty metal in one corner the room was empty. There was no ceiling, other than the roof of the warehouse far above, but the walls of the room extended much higher than she could jump. The table was bolted to the floor, so she couldn’t move it to aid in climbing. Mira tottered to the pile of debris, falling to her knees, hoping to find a jagged fragment she could use as a weapon. If the conductor got her to his ship, she was done for.
There was nothing useful in the miscellaneous debris but when she shifted the pile Mira blinked as a flash of light seeped into the room from the corner. The thin metal siding of the outer wall had come loose from the frame and was bent a bit outward. She pushed on the side panel and was rewarded with a few more inches of clearance but then the warped metal refused to bend further. Going to the debris, she found a short metal rod and used it to pry the siding apart a bit more before the rusted metal snapped. Anxious about the noise she was making, Mira worked as fast as she could but her hands were trembling and her arm muscles lacked their usual strength, no doubt lingering effects of the venom. The metal edges cut her hands so she tore strips from her skirt to use as bandages and made one last effort to bend the panel far enough out of its track for her to squeeze through.
Romancing the Stars: 8 Short Stories of Galactic Romance and Adventure Page 2
