Retribution Required

by C. R. Daems

  "I'll have the Tykhe's cameras take a snapshot every ten seconds if the hatch is opened after we leave. That way we should be able to determine what pickup vehicle they are using and which way it goes after retrieving the canisters," I said, getting ready to program the software patch.

  "That will help but I wish we could follow the vehicle. But that's impossible if your assumption is correct and we are being monitored," Kraig said.

  "Maybe not," I said, thinking about my little diversion on Sidon. "Is there some club we can both visit and one of us disappear out the back when we detect the pickup is in progress?" I asked. Kraig liked the idea and we spent several hours searching the entertainment near the parking area and found the ideal place—a large casino, the Horseshoe, about fifteen minutes from where the Tykhe was parked.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Star System: Tyrus

  We arrived on Tyrus early in the morning, wanting to leave the ship by noon, hoping the cameras would get clear photos of the vehicle they would be using and maybe some clue as to their destination. I declared the three vials of poison since they were listed as medical supplies, weren't illegal on Tyrus, and there were no customs fees as they were destined for Samxor.

  We departed around noon and caught a taxi to the Horseshoe Casino, where we separated. Kraig found a seat at one of the Blackjack tables and I wandered the club, stopping to play a variety of slot machines, while monitoring my tablet. We were there less than thirty minutes when my tablet registered an entry into the Tykhe. I ordered a taxi under the name "Sterling" and used one of my prepaid cards to pay, giving an address of one of the local businesses a few streets away from the casino. Then I replaced Kraig at the Blackjack table on the pretext he needed a break. We had decided me leaving with Shadi would not only be very conspicuous but would limit where I could go without being identified.

  I sat playing for over four hours, which should have been expensive as the minimum wager was twenty-five credits and blackjack wasn't my game. When I gambled, which was seldom, I tended toward poker. I knew the odds when it came to drawing to a flush or run, and reasonably good at bluffing, but not at determining the odds of when to hold or draw in blackjack. So I decided to let the dealer do the drawing. That turned out good for me since the three dealers during my time at the table weren't particularly lucky. However, my strategy didn't please several of the players at the table. They tended to blame me for their poor draws.

  "Damn you, woman!" a very large and drunk man with fists like sledge hammers shouted as he rose from his seat two stools away. "It's obvious you don't know what the fuck you’re doing and it's screwing up the deck for the rest of us."

  I tended to agree with him that I didn't know much about the game of blackjack, only the bare essentials—beat the dealer's hand without going over twenty-one. But I was currently a thousand credits ahead and he was losing, which didn't say a lot about his skill at the game. And I didn't understand how I could screw up the deck since I didn't know what the next card or cards were. Besides, I wasn't there to help him win.

  "Can't blame me. I didn’t shuffle the cards--the dealer did," I said in my best happy, happy voice as the dealer paid me for my winning hand. His bulldog face turned red and the two men between he and me left their seats. His twisted face turn into what I thought mimicked a smile. But before he could take a step in my direction, Shadi landed on one of the vacant seats and a slow growling sound emerged.

  "You are going to pay for my losses or I'll kill that cat and sell its hide," he snarled.

  "Give you ten to one odds, the cat walks out of the casino and you don't," I said, getting down from my stool. "Or we can find out if you’re as fast with that Mfw as you are with your mouth.

  "You do attract trouble, Zen," Kraig said, just before the butt of his Mfw smashed into the man's head. He had approached from behind at the start of the man's rant.

  "Thanks," said one of the two security men as they neared. "Customers getting killed inside the casino isn't good for business and blood is expensive to cleanup.

  Kraig nodded and turned to me. "How can you get in an argument at the blackjack table? Everyone is playing against the House."

  "Cash me out," I said to the dealer. "No one at the table likes me."

  The dealer counted my stack of chips and handed me a credit chip for the total. "That's one thousand three hundred fifty credits. If you don’t understand this game I'd love to see you play a game you like, Spacer." She laughed.

  "Where to?" I asked as we left the casino and entered the taxi Kraig waved over.

  "Back to the Tykhe unless you have business elsewhere," he said with a shrug.

  "Spaceport customs," I said as Kraig closed the door behind Shadi and me. We rode in silence, not wanting to discuss the issue until we couldn't be overheard. The real risk was the Black Hand learning or even suspecting we knew the game they were playing. And if someone was tailing us they might question the taxi driver.

  Inside the Tykhe, Kraig fetched two beers and placed one in front of me. "Our assumption was correct. A truck with signage Ship Restoration, Ltd. was in front of the Tykhe when I arrived. Two were leaving, carrying the canisters. The truck drove about a hundred meters and parked next to a Star Six merchant class spacecraft. I couldn't see what they did, but I think it’s reasonable to assume they unloaded the canisters. I did some snooping around and found the ship was called the Easy Trader out of Lietzow. It departed an hour ago for Dacca."

  "We need to know the time it arrives," I said, feeling we were making progress—progress that would free me of the ACS and the Black Hand and improve the odds of me living to enjoy the credits I was accumulating. "Assuming they are delivering it to the Raiders, the time might give us an indication of the system they entered to make delivery.

  "True. It could also help Sherman tighten the window for the upcoming raid."

  "Ironically, I have a delivery for Dacca." I smiled. Kraig frowned, realizing there were no packages in the cargo area, then shook his head.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Star System: Dacca

  We departed Tyrus eight hours after the Easy Trader and weren't surprised to find the merchant hadn't arrived at Dacca when we did. To our relief, it arrived nine hours later.

  "That rules out a detour to Lietzow, Samxor, or Hohhot, as the delay would have been considerably longer. Of course, we're assuming they dropped off the canisters during that seventeen-hour delay and don't still have them," Kraig said as we sat in the galley eating breakfast.

  "Given they dropped off the canisters, the Raiders must have rendezvoused with them either in the Tyrus or Dacca system. But that raises the question, why deliver the canisters to Tyrus if the Raiders are hanging out in Dacca?" I said, more thinking out loud than posing a question. "Why not just have their on-demand dumb-bunny transport them to Dacca?"

  "Misdirection maybe?" Kraig said. "Just in case some ACS agent got lucky and stumbled on the canisters and associated them with the Raiders and sent a fleet to search the area."

  "Possible," I said while covering my eyes with my fingers in concentration. "Wouldn't that mean they had a base like the ACS asteroid-without-a-name rather than an area they park their cruisers?"

  "Interesting. You don't just park a cruiser with crew for months on end. Crews need time on planets to amuse themselves. An asteroid base could be adapted to provide entertainment for long periods of time. But crews would still need time on a planet eventually," Kraig said, gazing downward in thought. "So how do they get to this playground planet and is there one or multiple playgrounds?"

  "Rotate the crew and the planet," I said as my eyes shot open. I smiled as I rose to fetch a beer.

  "What do you mean, the crew and the planet?"

  "Drop a small percentage of the crew at one of several planets every so often. Say every month. If you had three full crews and two cruisers…"

  "Yes, enough to ensure you always had two fully functional cruisers. But how do they select their targets—
time and place?"

  "Colonel Sherman said the previous raids had all been on planets in ACS systems: Sarvan, Vorde, Cirta, and Lutetia. Several have been hit twice, targeting different cities," I said and waited for Kraig to nod agreement. "What if a merchant like the Easy Trader's first stop is a system close to the ACS? There it picks up the crew it dropped off last month…and…makes contact with another merchant which has been touring the ACS systems looking for targets. The Easy Trader then stops at each system it dropped crew and returns to the Raiders' location with a full crew and potential targets. They collect the rotating crew and the cycle starts over again."

  "That would fit the pattern of the raids. To date they have hit two or three systems within a ten-day period and then disappeared for several months," Kraig said. "And we know they are using at least one merchant, the Easy Trader."

  "And a several-month rotation would be more likely because of the time to transverse the Rim, dropping off and picking up crew," I said.

  "It's a good working hypothesis but how do we prove it?" Kraig asked, wondering out loud rather than expecting an answer. He smiled. "Better yet, how do we find and stop the merchant returning the crew? That would disrupt their entire operation."

  "Follow the Easy Trader since we know it's working with the Raiders," I said.

  "True, but that won't work for this raid. Since we know they wanted the gas by a specific date, we can assume they already have the targets."

  "The Raiders are somewhere in the Dacca system," I said, feeling certain I was correct.

  "How do you know?"

  "Well, I don't but if our conjecture is correct, the Easy Trader will collect the crew due a break. So unless the Easy Trader's next destination is Tyrus, it would seem reasonable to assume the merchant returned the vacationing crew and will pick up the rotating crew sometime after the Raiders leave for their next raid."

  "I wish we could stop the cruisers rather than a merchant."

  "We do what we can, Kraig. You can give Sherman a better window, if not the targets, and improve her chances of intercepting them. While you try to determine when the Easy Trader is leaving and where it plans to go, I have a delivery to make." I rose to get dressed, secure the Tykhe, and retrieve Wu's package. While I trusted Kraig to have my back, I thought it best to keep the specifics of my smuggling a secret. It was enough he knew I was a smuggler without giving him, and by extension the ACS, proof.

  I left the Tykhe an hour after Kraig and caught a taxi to the Roulette Club on the other side of South City. I arrived early in the evening. The entry had double glass doors, each with a roulette wheel. The right one had The Roulette Club and the left one Where Dreams Come True etched in Lucida calligraphy.

  "We are booked full tonight, Spacer," said an elderly man in a tuxedo with a scarf made from a roulette table.

  "I'm here to see Mrs. LeClair," I said.

  "And who are you, in case she isn't busy?" he asked politely, if with a hint of in-your-dreams tone.

  "Pilot Zenaida," I said, reluctant to mention Wu's name for what that may give away to the bystanders who were close enough to hear. Dream Drugs were illegal on Dacca, however many years ago a law was passed making a person's private residence immune from search and subsequent court decisions ruled the private rooms at the Roulette Club were considered the private residences of the renters. Obviously, money exchanged hands every year to maintain the law and the legal precedent as the Roulette Club and several others relied on the law to sell dream drugs without fear of prosecution.

  "Ms. Zenaida, Mrs. LeClair has invited you to her area. Charles will see you there," he said with a look of astonishment. As Charles led me through the corridors, I heard the loud speakers announcing the next game.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, place your wagers," the base voice blared over the speakers. And as we reached a green door with zero, zero, "Betting is now closed."

  Charles knocked and opened the door when a female voice called Enter. As I did I could see through the window on the opposite side of the room, three wheels suspended in midair, spinning. Each wheel had twenty-five unique numbers between zero, double zero, and seventy-three. Each wheel represented a floor and the twenty-five rooms on that floor. Presently each room's wall reflected the picture and number on its associated slot on the wheel. In Mrs. LeClair's room the wall reflected a winged horse and the number seven. As I watched, the wheels continued to rotate, and the picture changed to a red dragon and the number fifty-five. Eventually the wheel would stop and the room would have a number. Then another wheel would be spun which would determine the winning number. If you had bet the correct number you received fifty times your wager. If you were also in the room with that number you received five hundred times your wager. Good odds for the House—bet one credit on picking the correct number and on average you should win six thousand six hundred sixty-six credits for every ten thousand wagered. Bet one credit on picking the number and the room number being the same, on average you should win one thousand eight hundred for every ten thousand wagered. Hence, if the customer wagers one credit on both events the House wins on average eleven thousand five hundred credits for every ten thousand wagers on the two wheels.

  "Welcome, Zen. You and Shadi have matured since I last saw you," LeClair said as the door closed. She had a model's figure and wore clothes designed to show every curve. Today she had on a simple scarlet sleeveless pantsuit with a V-cut neckline almost to her navel, open in the back to her waist, and hip hugging pants that flared wide at the ankles. Her black hair, streaked with white, was in a Dutch braid that hung past her shoulder blades. She carried no weapons but four men stood against the walls, armed with everything except a rocket launcher—well, none I could see. And Mrs. LeClair was a master with knives and poison, although I didn't know where she could hide a knife in that outfit. "I had heard you continued to do business in the Rim after your father's murder. I approve."

  "Thank you, Mrs. LeClair. Too many rules and restrictions in the Central Systems," I said, not sure what to say with over ten other people in the room who were listening, judging by the decrease in volume. To my relief, LeClair rose and waved for me to follow. "Come, Zen. You can tell me what you have been doing the past few years." She exited with me and the four bodyguards following, and entered another door across the hall, into an office as big as the roulette room we had exited. Inside were a massive ebony desk, a couch, and a small table with four padded chairs. A floor-to-ceiling cabinet that ran the length of one wall with books, knick knacks, a small bar and, I'd wager, a hidden safe. Two of the guards stayed at the door while two followed us inside.

  "Maxim will get you whatever you want to drink and there is a toilet thru that door if you need to refresh yourself."

  "Blue Ice," I said and headed for the toilet. Inside, I removed the drugs. When I exited, Maxim handed me my drink. I looked to LeClair, who nodded.

  "It's safe in here," she said, reaching out a hand. I reached inside my shirt and handed her the bag. She tested its weight in her hand then smiled. "Not too many people Mrs. Wu would trust with this much Dream Dust. I approve of her timing and choice of a carrier. I was running a bit low. Everyone wants to dream and the Roulette's a safe place."

  "What's next, Zen?" LeClair asked, which I took to mean in general not specifics.

  "I have some deliveries to make and hope to pick up additional business on the way. A girl has got to eat and a spaceship is expensive to maintain."

  LeClair nodded. "I wish I had some business for you. You're the type of person I'd like to deal with. Most of the people I deal with are trustworthy to a point, but each has a threshold where they can't be trusted beyond. You don't and we all agree. You'd be wise to remain independent, although that's hard to do. There are too many sharks who would love to capitalize on your reputation.

  I left much later, after watching several roulette games and having been treated to a delicious French onion soup, stuffed mushrooms, a local mahi mahi fish blackened and served over wild ri
ce, and followed by a Crock-Pot Butterbeer Rum dessert. Feeling relaxed and ready for bed, I exited the building and wandered toward the designated area for parking, public transportation, and taxis. Halfway there two men stood watching the people leaving the Roulette Club. They stood in the middle of the walkway, forcing everyone to go around them. They were dressed like fighters in dark and tight-fitting clothing, Mfws, and knives showing in their boots. When I was within two meters of them the older of the two spoke.

  "Well, well. If it isn't the rabid cat that murdered our defenseless colleague." His voice was menacing but with a hint of excitement as if in anticipation or from stimulants. He was the larger of the two, both in height and girth. His scared bulldog face distorted into a twisted smile. His eyes locked on me. His companion was several years younger, a cocky expression and a thin mustache on his pinched-looking face. His eyes were locked on Shadi. He too looked a bit hyped. "We are going to kill that cat so he can't kill anyone else, and you are going to help us forget the loss of our friend."

  "You can't be referring to that coward at the Club Royal who paid someone to kill a harmless cat," I said, stalling for time to prepare for what was to come.

  "Liar. That cat took him from behind while you distracted him," Bulldog shouted, not that it was necessary. I was close enough to hear normal conversation and the people who stopped to watch were quiet, probably to avoid notice or not to interrupt the show. "Mr. Osoriao was a member of a dedicated group of professionals, any one of which could have killed you and that cat. He trusted you were honest and you used deceit to distract him."

  "If Mr. Osoriao was part of a group of professionals, I did you a favor getting rid of him. He was a coward with no integrity and no skill."