The line went dead.
Gemini stepped back from the communications panel and eyed her prisoners. They had stopped muttering amongst themselves and seemed to be awaiting their judgement. They knew they were in big trouble. Smuggling cockatrice eggs was a very serious criminal offence. The eggs’ offspring were a highly toxic species, only found on the poisonous moon of Thauno. Contrary to popular belief, these bird-like creatures could not kill with a single look, but their venom was undoubtedly one of the most dangerous substances in the System. Even more alarming, it was coveted by the mysterious wraith-like beings from the moon of Xoros. The development of sinister alchemical weapons in their sulphur-belching plants had been banned for decades now. Under the Kharg-Rillion Covenants, anyone caught appropriating, exploiting, or destroying a planet’s indigenous resources faced harsh punishment.
“So, which one of you is the ringleader?” Gemini asked, hooking a thumb in her belt. “Anyone want to own up?”
The pixies shuffled. Nobody said anything.
“Then who’s your buyer?” Gemini went on. “You tell me some names and maybe they’ll go easier on you over at the Circuit Courts. It would also make my job a whole lot easier.”
Once again, the pixies remained silent.
Gemini thinned her lips. She didn’t expect any of the creatures to talk. At least, not to her. Before they did anything, they would want to secure a representative of their own species to plead their defence. It was common knowledge that pixie counsellors were highly effective.
Gemini grunted and turned away. However, as she was considering the best way to shunt the Space Runner from its current position across the border, a quiet, rasping, and thickly accented voice suddenly piped up: “Maybe we could cut a deal.”
When she turned back to the pixies, Gemini saw that tallest amongst them had sauntered forward. This had clearly agitated its fellows who were whispering at it harshly to keep quiet in their own language. Gemini figured they didn’t expect her to have any command of it.
“What was that you said?” she asked.
“A deal,” croaked the pixie, slapping a hand away from one of the pixies behind him. “I know things that might be of use.”
“Like the names of your buyers?”
The pixie snorted and it stepped a pace forward so that it was out of reach from any grasping protestations. “I can’t tell you that, Ranger. Our buyers have friends everywhere. That means, one day, when we least expect it, someone’s going to slip a little something in our food that’s scentless, tasteless, and quite deadly. We wouldn’t live a full cycle.”
Gemini knew that to be true. Depending on who they had dealings with.
“You speak decent Common,” she said then. “Where’d you learn it?”
“Here and there. I’ve travelled all over. I pick up languages pretty quick. You have to in my business.”
“And I’ll also bet you’ve dealt with all kinds over the years too.”
“We go where the work is. More or less. Some places are more difficult to travel to than others, though. If you get my meaning.”
Gemini raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Few people go poaching on Thauno these days, Ranger. It’s too bad for your health. Even with a borion respirator.”
That accounted for the pixie’s rasping voice, Gemini thought. On Thauno, the gases were said to be so corrosive that nobody could stay on the surface for very long before their respirators started to deteriorate. Over time, the poison could subtly burn lungs and vocal cords.
“We do it because we have to,” the pixie continued. “We don’t have a choice.”
“We all have a choice,” Gemini said. “You have any idea what these cockatrice eggs are going to be used for?”
“Look, I’m just a courier, okay? What they do with this stuff after it leaves my claws is none of my business.”
“Nice way to absolve yourself of any responsibility.”
The pixie made a face. “You Rangers are all the same. Too high and mighty for your own good. You don’t know what it’s like for a creature like me: to be birthed on a planet like Morgh and treated like scum wherever you go. The Void is a harsh place, Ranger. We’re just trying to get by like the rest.”
“And what has that got to do with me?”
“Nothing. Not normally. Except I know something that’s a little bigger than a few traded cockatrice eggs.”
“I don’t think you appreciate just how much trouble you’re in, my friend.”
“I have some idea. But what I know is bigger. Much bigger.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes indeed. Like dragon hunting.” And the pixie showed off the needles of its sharp, black teeth.
Gemini stared at the pixie for a long moment. At first, she thought she had misheard and said, “What did you say?”
“Dragon hunting. As I live and breathe.” The pixie blinked at Gemini, its shiny black eyes giving away no clue as to the truth of its statement.
“And you can prove that?”
The pixie shrugged. “More or less.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can point you in the right direction, Ranger. But I can’t give you names or specifics. Like I said, I want to be able to live a long, full life. As we all do.”
Gemini looked over the pixie’s shoulders to its comrades. They had fallen into uneasy silence. She couldn’t be sure whether they understood everything that was being said, like her vocal friend here. If they did, they made no acknowledgement.
“You’ll have to give me more than that.” Gemini refocused her attention on the deal maker.
“No problem. I can tell ye the permit that was issued was for Ilmaris no less. High class forgery job too. Big money changed hands for that to happen. But then there’s big money involved in dragon hunting, isn’t there? Their scales alone are worth a fortune on the black market.”
“You’re not kidding. And you’re right, information like that would be valuable. Very valuable indeed.”
“Precisely!”
“If what you’re saying is true.”
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“Of course I don’t believe you. You’re a pixie.”
“Well, that’s very hurtful, Ranger. And possibly discriminatory.”
“Save it for your counsel.”
“Alright, then what if I could tell you I know dates. I can even give you an idea of partial border codes. And that should be enough to get you started.”
Gemini had to admit that partial border codes would be useful. They could be crossed checked against the logs at the Border Gates and even give her a bearing. They might even be traceable.
Studying the creature even more carefully, Gemini hoped to detect a glimmer that betrayed a lie. But when she couldn’t be sure of one, she said, “Okay. So, what’s in it for you? What do I have to do in return?”
At this, the pixie glanced over its shoulder to the shuffling group behind. When it looked back at Gemini, it was nonchalant. “You have the haul. A pretty good day’s work I should imagine. But by the time you came aboard, there wasn’t anyone here. See?”
Gemini almost laughed. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can.” The pixie kept its eyes firm, unwavering. Its smile had fallen away. “Reserve back-up kicks in all the time. It’s a big enough ship for us to hide away until the effects of the plasma blast wore off. No way to stop us before we jumped in a shuttle and reached that asteroid.”
And if I let these creatures go, Gemini thought, Hanaway would have me up on charges…
Yet she hesitated. The fact was, if there was even the faintest chance that the dragon hunt was real, that would make bringing in a cargo hold full of cockatrice eggs look like an afterthought. There hadn’t been a recorded slaying in Ilmaris for over a decade. That meant, whoever was involved with such an expedition was probably very well connected. They’d have to be. Just circumventing the tracker technology alone would be next to impossible.
“Well?” the pixie prompted.
Gemini lifted her arm and checked her watch.
“The Freezer Ship will be here soon,” she said eventually, almost to herself.
“I expect so,” said the pixie.
Gemini bit the inside of her mouth. Still, this was a really, really big risk, even though she had neglected to tell Control that she’d rounded up the Space Runner’s crew. That meant she could conceivably let them go and no one would be wiser.
“And…?” The pixie’s black eyes glittered.
Gemini took a breath. This was probably a very bad idea…
Then again, could she really ignore such a big opportunity?
“You’re best-off heading toward the eastern ridge of the asteroid or its sensors will pick you up,” she said finally. “And they might clip you with a couple of arrowheads.”
The pixie grinned. “That’s good advice.” But as it started to turn to its comrades, chattering excitedly in its own tongue, Gemini quickly grabbed the creature by the shoulder, turning it around. She said, warningly, “But if I find out this is some sort of scam, pixie, believe me, I’ll make it my sole purpose to find whatever imp hole you and your friends end up crawling down and drag you back by those ugly ears of yours to make you pay.” Then she dropped her hand, taking a step back, and added: “Now, give me what you know, and I’ll power up the reserves.”
SIX
1
Blake adjusted the visors, dimming the Clipper’s cockpit against the fierce yellow glow of the sun. Skreet leaned on the steering control, easing them out of the exit lane. Behind them, Miria was a dwindling globe of dusty reds and twinkling lights from the vast grav cities. Ahead, the tantalising prospect of Terevell could be seen, shining in the vastness of space like a jewel. Blake hadn’t lived on Earth since he was a child, but to him Terevell was like a heightened version of his memory, as if his home planet was a dim facsimile. But the truth was always different. Dreams could be nightmares too, he knew, and his stomach always knotted when he returned to the place where he’d lost everything.
“You sure they’re okay with me piloting their ship?”
Blake’s thoughts scattered and he realised Skreet was looking at him questioningly with bulging eyes.
“Hmm? Oh. Yeah. I told them you were part of the package. You’ll get full shares too.”
“Ye didn’t have to do that for me, ye know.”
“Skreet, you’re the best pilot and mechanic I know. Besides, something tells me I could do with a little friendly support on this one. The elf wasn’t exactly forthcoming about who else has been employed to go on the expedition.”
“She not tell ye their names?”
“Only that they’d plenty of experience.”
“Experience of dragon hunting?”
“No idea.”
“And what about this backer? She give you any more clue as to who they is?”
Blake shook his head. “Apparently he wanted to remain anonymous.”
“Anonymous? So we don’t even know who we’re working for? Or why?” Skreet sucked at his sharp teeth. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, Blake. I mean, the elf gave ye her reasons, all right. The dragon is killing her people. But the backer…why’s he funding the expedition, huh?”
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. Up ahead.” Blake nodded to where a huge marker buoy flashed like a light house in the star-filled darkness. “That’s the rendezvous point.”
“The ‘rondy’ what?”
“Meeting place. And it looks like they’re here on time.”
Nestled under the shadow of the gigantic pylon-like structure waited a squat, blunt-looking vessel, not much larger than the Clipper. Blake recognised the ship’s class as soon as he saw it: a scientific research vessel—or RV—which was more or less one of the only types of craft that were allowed to fly in Terevell’s airspace. At least in the area they intended to go. And at first impression, while Blake didn’t think the vessel was particularly new, it seemed to be up to current standards. This meant it wouldn’t necessarily look out of place if it was intercepted. Of course, just because the elf or her backer had managed to secure a research vessel didn’t mean the Border Guards would simply let them on their merry way to Terevell. To achieve that, permits were needed; extremely rare and difficult to obtain permits at that. Blake just hoped the elf knew what she was doing. The expedition could very well end before it even began.
“Let her know who we are, okay?” Blake unstrapped himself from his chair. “Then bring her up alongside.”
“Will do.” Skreet snapped a switch on the comm panel and began to hail the ship.
Blake slipped out of his seat and stepped through the cabin. Two dozen seats that had seen better days faced each other. There were also exposed ducts in the ceiling and drag lines visible under the chairs. He hoped that was about to change. Skreet would be able to fix what he needed when the proceeds from the job had come in, and perhaps he would even be able to keep up the touring business. It was Blake’s intention to hand it over to his friend when all this was over. As long as it had a happy ending.
The Clipper veered.
Blake snatched at an overhead strap to steady himself. He waited until the Clipper had righted itself before he stumbled toward the back of the ship where the supplies had been laid out. He had spent more or less the last of the petty cash on everything before him. There were new steel tipped grip boots (which he had on), a camo flak jacket, a reconditioned M18 Jag Rifle, a laser-edge bush machete, as well as a lightweight, high velocity net launcher with two cartridges of compressed carbon fibre razor netting. He’d also had Skreet reprogram his force shield up to current specs, and Blake had made sure his ultra-beam shotgun—the weapon he usually took on tours with him—was well-oiled and maintained. Yet the real prize was in the long steel case Blake had retrieved from Otto’s secret lock-up, gathering dust amongst all that expensive elven wine. Blake had only tested it once since he’d brought it back to the hanger when Skreet was out buying the rations. It still worked like the first day he had obtained it. Not that this gave him much satisfaction. Such relics from the past only dredged up the kind of memories he’d sooner have forgotten.
“We’re coming alongside now,” Skreet called from the cockpit.
“Okay.” Blake tore his eyes away from the steel case and unzipped the bag of rations. From it he pulled a flask and unscrewed the lid, taking a quick gulp. The whisky burned his throat and at the same time flooded him with relief. He had also secreted another bottle amongst the food supplements and rehydration pouches. He only hoped they would last him the duration of the trip.
A shuddering thump rang out across the ship. Blake almost dropped the flask, cursing under his breath. It sounded as though they had docked with the research vessel. He quickly screwed the flask’s lid back on, forcing the bottle back into the bag and pushed to his feet. He snatched up the flak jacket and started to put it on.
“All set,” Skreet called over his shoulder, and after flicking some more switches, powered down the engines, disengaging the airlock pinions. A metallic clunk shuddered through the ship. Then the goblin squirmed out of his seat and hopped into the cabin, zipping up his jacket. He regarded Blake who was picking up the rations bag with one hand and the steel case with the other.
“Get the guns, will you?” Blake indicated the other duffel containing the rifle and shotgun cases.
Onl
y Skreet hesitated, and Blake looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“Ye can always turn back, ye know. Last chance.”
“What happened to us needing the money?”
“Well, we do. But maybe we can get it another way.”
“There is no other way, Skreet. At least, not to find the sort of credits we need in the time we’ve got.”
“But we could go to Syrese. Set up business there. Maybe on one of the floating cities off the Gerelan Coast. Start afresh. Just ocean tours, eh? Eat good food. Get a bit of sun.”
“You hate the sun.”
“I’d wrap up!”
“Grubs would find me, Skreet. Eventually.”
“But…But this don’t feel right, somehow, Blake. Ye know? And we goblins has good instincts about these sorts of things. My ears have been twitchin’ all day.”
“You been spraying for ear mites like I told you?”
“I’m serious, Blake.”
“I know. So am I. I can’t turn back, Skreet. Not now. The deal’s been done.”
And as if to punctuate his point, the hydraulic pistons on the airlock hissed and the door slid open.
Blake turned to the door as Nyara, dressed in a Yrini burnoose and snug-fitting elven armour, ducked as she entered the cabin. The Spirit Blade, which Blake had noticed on their last meeting, was now proudly displayed from a scabbard strapped across her chest.
Immediately, she glanced between Skreet and Blake, as if she was attuned to the tension between them. “Is everything alright?” she asked.
Blake said nothing at first. He was still looking at Skreet. Then, when the goblin eventually dropped his eyes and picked up the duffel bag, Blake nodded. “We’re fine.”
“Good. But you’re late.”
“Hardly.” Blake’s hackles rose instantly. “Besides, the Border Guard’s not going anywhere.”
“That maybe so, Mr McCord, but it’s very important that we reach the checkpoint when the guards are close to changing. It will enable a smoother transition.”
“Well, we’re here now. No sense wasting time dressing us down.”
Return to Dragon Planet: Book one of the Dragon Planet Trilogy Page 7
