by Jaleta Clegg
"I vote we let Habim squash those incompetents." Jasyn shut down her boards. "We’ve got company," she added, glancing up at the viewscreen.
Clark opened a hidden compartment under the control panels. "Bless Dace and her paranoid little heart," he said as he pulled out a blaster and checked the charge. "Have you checked the other compartment?"
"They didn’t find it," Jasyn answered. "Everything’s still there." The other hidden storage locker contained two more blasters and most of their spare money.
The delegation heading for their ship didn’t look like normal port authority. They swaggered too much, and were much too well dressed. They reminded Jasyn of the thugs who had taken over her ship. Clark tucked the blaster out of sight.
"Shall we go talk to port authority?" he asked her.
"One moment." She requested the names and registries of the other ships in port. The printer spit out a sheet of paper. She looked it over and grinned. She looked at Ginni. The girl was scared. "Go help Habim keep those two quiet. We may need hostages to negotiate with."
Ginni’s eyes got even bigger but she nodded and hurried back to the locked cabin.
"Jasyn," Clark said as he stood next to her. "Be careful."
"You, too," she answered.
The door to the third cabin was shut, but not locked. Muffled sounds of Habim singing drifted out.
"His bouncing song," Jasyn said, with a nasty grin. "They’ll stay quiet, if they know what’s good for them."
She opened the hatch.
Three men waited outside. They looked bored.
"You’re listed as a pirate," the middle man said without even looking at her, his eyes were fixed on a clipboard. "We got the message two days ago. We can have the ship scrapped in a day or less." When he didn’t get a response, he finally looked up. "The Phoenix Rising, right?"
"You must have the wrong ship," Jasyn said with a tight smile.
"We got you down for scrap," the man insisted. "The boss sent the message himself." He frowned, finally noticing her shipsuit. "Where’s the crew? Daggett?" he called, craning to look behind her.
"You’ve got the wrong ship," Jasyn insisted. "We’re here on legitimate business."
The other two men finally noticed something wasn’t right. They reached for weapons holstered under their jackets.
Clark beat them to it. "You don’t want to do that."
"You can’t win," the man in the middle said. "I don’t know how Harris screwed up, but you can’t win here. We own this planet."
"I rather doubt that," Jasyn said.
"Don’t make me force the issue," the man said. "You come out quietly, we’ll let you go native."
"Over your dead bodies," Jasyn said. The crew of one of the other ships in port approached the ship. A dozen of them, wearing weapons. They looked prepared for trouble.
"Boss," one of the thugs said, nudging the man in the middle. He pointed the other way. "Looks ugly."
The man in the middle glanced that way then over his shoulder the other way. "Don’t think you’ve won." He signalled his goons. The three of them piled in an open groundcar and sped away.
Jasyn walked down the gangplank and saw the crews of two more ships coming her way. They slowed when they saw her. A few kept coming, walking leisurely across the landing field. The rest saw the trouble was over and walked back towards their ships, lingering and watching as if they were almost sorry to have missed a fight.
"You sent a message," the first to reach her said. He eyed Clark, who still held the blaster. He waited. He wanted an explanation.
"Jasyn?" the second man called as he came closer. He looked her over. "What happened?"
"Everett," she greeted him. "Come inside and I’ll explain everything." She included the other man in her invitation. The sight of a familiar face, one that looked sympathetic, almost undid her.
Clark shifted aside so they could pass before he took up a position on the gangplank.
Habim was out of the cabin when she came in, the door to the third cabin hung open. Ginni pulled Habim’s arm.
"He wants to fix the engine," Ginni said.
"Let him," Jasyn told her. "We’ve got some friends to help us now."
"What about them?" Ginni asked, nodding her head to the cabin.
"You just go help Habim," Jasyn said. "The less you know about this the better. Trust me, Ginni."
Ginni nodded. The second she let go of Habim’s hands he was moving for the engine room. His hands twirled. Ginni flicked a glance over the two men as she followed Habim down the steps to the engine room.
Jasyn waited until the door slid shut before turning to the men. "I can’t tell you how relieved I am you’re here."
"What’s going on?" Everett demanded.
"You sent a distress call," the other man said. "Why do you have two men tied up in your cabin?"
"We’re being hunted by the Targon Syndicate. We need help."
"This isn’t a Family ship," the man she didn’t know objected. "It isn’t listed. How do you know the code?"
"They’re under Lady Rina’s personal sponsorship," Everett said.
The other man nodded, accepting it.
"This is going to take a while," Jasyn said. "Have a seat, please."
Ghost appeared from nowhere and jumped into Everett’s lap when he sat down. She purred loudly and pushed her head against his chin. He scratched her gently. "I see you’ve taken care of my cat," he said.
"You vouch for her?" the other man asked Everett.
"Jasyn Pai," Everett introduced her to the man. "Her husband Clark is the one with the gun. Tolliver, captain of Lillian May," he said to Jasyn.
"I’ve heard of you," she said. "Lady Rina is waging a trade war with your branch of the Family."
"One she isn’t going to win," Tolliver said with an easy smile. "You don’t have much time," he added, serious again. "This planet is not a good one to linger on."
"We didn’t have much choice about coming here," Jasyn said.
"Where’s Dace?" Everett asked. "She looked desperate when I stopped by on Kimmel. I’ve been trying to track you down since."
"You knew we were in trouble?" Jasyn asked.
"Why do you think there are Family ships on every world in this sector?" Everett said. "We got word of your ship heading this way. Lady Rina pulled strings with the council. Everyone with ships available is out here looking for you."
"I didn’t know," Jasyn said. "Up until a day ago, the four of us were locked in the cabin. For weeks." She shook her hair back, flipping it over one shoulder. "They took Dace somewhere, I don’t know when or where. She wasn’t on the ship when we finally got out."
"You want to start at the beginning?" Tolliver asked her. "First of all, who’s Dace? Is she Family?"
"If Lady Rina has her way, she will be," Jasyn said. "This is complicated." She thought for a moment, choosing words, choosing facts. She didn’t want to mention Jerimon’s betrayal. That would earn him a death sentence from the Family. She wanted to beat answers out of him herself. "A few weeks ago, they surprised us on Shamustel and took over the ship. They locked us in the cabin but kept Dace out here. I don’t know what happened after that."
"You tangled with Targon Syndicate by yourselves?" Tolliver asked.
Everett petted the cat and gave her a skeptical look.
"Not on purpose," Jasyn said. "Dace has a knack for getting herself into trouble without trying."
"Who is this Dace?" Tolliver asked, leaning back in the chair.
"You see the news a couple of months ago about the Kumadai Run?" Everett asked.
Tolliver’s eyes widened. "The Phoenix Rising? This ship? That Dace?"
Everett nodded.
Tolliver looked at Jasyn with new respect. "What can we do to help?"
"I don’t know yet," Jasyn said. "I need information. I need to know what they’ve done. I need to know where they took Dace."
"And then you need a fleet to get her back out," Everett said evenly.<
br />
"Unless I can get a message to the Patrol in time," she said. "Dace has connections there."
"The Family doesn’t get in the Patrol’s way," Tolliver said. "For our mutual benefit."
"Forget the Patrol, then," Jasyn said.
"Are you sure you can handle it without their backing?" Clark asked.
Jasyn looked up at him. It was easy to forget that he’d been Patrol. It was easy to remember now, he looked dangerous with the blaster and a hardness in his face she’d never seen.
"The Family takes care of its own," Tolliver said. "We have access to the necessary ships and equipment."
"You want information?" Everett said. "First piece is free, Jasyn. Your ship is listed as pirate. You lifted without paying fees on Shamustel, Kimmel, and several other worlds. Port authority was livid about it. You’re listed as drug smugglers, too. They found packets of Glitter in your cargo on Kimmel."
Jasyn stared at Everett in disbelief. "Why?"
"Because someone doesn’t like you," Everett said. "Your Guild standing would be the first thing to go. And your reputation as traders. You can’t go far without the Patrol chasing you, either. Is this personal against Dace or all of you?"
"Dace, mostly," Jasyn said. It made sense, but she didn’t like the picture the facts painted. "Hurt her by ruining her reputation, first. They beat her regularly. At least we heard her screaming a lot. The beatings couldn't have been too bad, though, she could still swear at them."
"You don’t want Targon taking revenge on you," Tolliver said. "They’re very thorough. But they also know better than to cross the Family."
"So, your help depends on whether or not we’re considered Family," Jasyn said. "I should have known your price would be almost as high as the Patrol’s."
"The Family demands blood price, yes," Tolliver said. "Your ship would have to declare a clan and stay within that clan’s guild and territory."
"No," Jasyn said. "Forget I asked for help. Go back to your ship and rot. This is my ship. It doesn’t belong to some clan that will take it away from me. No one tells me where to fly or what to trade. The Family turned its back on me a long time ago."
"It’s the price you pay for our help," Tolliver said. "You become part of the Family. We can arrange something for your husband and the rest of the crew. Although marriage outside the Family is very strongly discouraged."
"Just go away." Jasyn stood and shoved her chair back. "Forget I asked for help. I won’t pay that price. I refuse to be pulled into your petty bickering. I refuse to subject myself to some clan leader I don’t even know."
"Consider them part of the Shellfinder clan," Everett said.
Tolliver stiffened. "The Shellfinder clan does not exist. Not since the plague seventy years ago."
"Jasyn is not going to join your clan, so stop coveting her ship," Everett said. "And the Shellfinder clan did not all die in the plague."
"Lady Rina," Tolliver said, finally understanding. He looked over at Jasyn, a speculative look that made her nervous.
"This ship and crew are considered under her personal protection," Everett said. "Listed as members of the Shellfinder clan as of three months ago. All that needs to be done is to get the crew to sign the right papers." Everett smiled at Jasyn. Ghost still purred in his lap. "What information, exactly, do you need?"
"What price, Everett?" she asked.
"A favor for a favor," Everett said. "Did you know at least one of the ships on Vallius was Family?"
"No," Jasyn said, sitting back down.
Clark turned around. "Family owes us for that. That makes one for the Family and at least twenty for the Patrol."
Tolliver shrugged. "Whatever you need this time, we’ll help. Without demanding you pay for it."
"That’s gracious of you," Everett said.
"I just want one favor," Tolliver added. "I want to meet this Dace when she gets rescued."
Chapter 36
My side ached. I stumbled and fell against a wall. I leaned for a moment on the surface, hot from reflected sunlight, and panted. I couldn’t hear my pursuers over my pounding heart, but I knew they were still there. I glanced over my shoulder and saw them coming. I shoved myself away from the wall and tried to run. I made it four steps before one of them tripped me. I tumbled to the ground, rolling in the dirt of the alley.
They grabbed my arms and jerked me to my feet. I had no idea who they were, only that they wanted me. Most of the Empire seemed to want me lately, and not in a good way. These men didn’t look like Targon, they wore loose shirts and trousers the color of sand under a desert sun and twisted belts of dark black. One of them wrapped me in a sheet of musty fabric with the color and smell of old dust. There was a single hole for me to look through.
Clark thought they were mysterious, but Clark was weird. I went cold and shuddered as I realized who these men were. They hustled me quickly down the alley, wrapped head to toe in the muffling sheet. The Sidyama had caught up to me. I was in the Hands of God, at least the god worshipped in the Sidyatha. Why they wanted me was still a mystery but I was sure I'd find out soon.
They opened a door in the back of another featureless warehouse. They dragged me inside. The door slammed shut and they yanked the sheet off.
"Where is your ship?" the leader shouted in my face.
"I don’t know," I answered truthfully. There were five of them, too many even if I weren’t sore and aching and tired and hungry. I had to try. I feinted towards one of them.
The one behind me clobbered me across the neck. I fell to my knees, bruising them on the plascrete floor. He picked me up and set me on my feet, not gently. I bit my tongue. He didn’t let go of my shoulders.
"Where are the ones you have taken from the justice of Sidya?" the leader demanded.
"I don’t know."
He slapped me. The only reason I didn’t end up on the floor again was because the one behind me had my shoulders in a grip tighter than a docking clamp. The leader signalled someone behind me.
They lowered a rope from overhead. The one holding my shoulders shifted his grip to my wrists. He hauled them over my head. Another one wrapped the rope around my wrists and twisted it back through the middle. The leader gave another signal. Gears creaked and the rope tightened until I dangled, my toes barely brushing the floor. It hurt, especially since it was on top of barely scabbed wrists and already pulled muscles.
"Tell us where they are," the leader said.
"I don’t know where they are."
"Liar." He slapped me across the face and sent me spinning at the end of the rope. "You will tell us where the heretics are."
"I can’t if I don’t know myself," I said, trying to be reasonable. I sounded tired and scared and in pain.
"Infidel," he said and slapped me again.
It went on like that for much too long a time. My shoulders ached, my face stung. My wrists were bleeding again. I gave up and just hung from the rope. It didn’t do any good to tell him I knew nothing. I was too tired to think up a plausible lie. He wouldn’t have believed me anyway. They got bored with slapping and started in with sticks. The extra pain didn’t help me know where my ship was. The Sidyama didn’t seem to care.
"Sida-Toma," one of them interrupted. The leader turned away from me.
I blinked blearily. This one was new. He’d left the door open behind him.
"A message," the new one said. "We know where the infidels are taking them."
"Where?" the leader demanded.
The new one said something that sounded like Zeequeetole. They all ran from the building. I was left dangling from the rope. The door swung, squeaking. I saw daylight fading beyond the door.
I let my head fall back, looking up at the rope. The pulleys were way too high, near the roof. The other end of the rope was secured eight feet away from me. It might as well have been eight light years. There was no way I was going to reach it. I could try pulling myself up to untie the rope around my wrists. I could try, but I knew there was
absolutely no way I was going to be able to do it. I hurt almost too much to move. Every muscle twitched with pain.
I flopped my head back the other way. The rope twisted slowly, I was facing the other direction now. The door they’d dragged me through opened. I resigned myself to either another beating or being dragged off by someone else.
A head eased its way around the door and looked into the room. The hair was cut in spikes, stiff bits of hair with metal bands wrapped around them. Half the hair was flourescent green, the other half was dirty white. The body attached to the head slipped through the door. Whoever it was, it was at least humanoid. Male, I guessed, barely out of his teens if that. He wore shiny black with bits of chain showing in odd places. A single length twisted around one ear. He walked over to me on cheap imitation spacer boots. He put his hands on his hips and looked me over.
I groaned and closed my eyes. Whoever and whatever he was, it didn’t matter anymore. The rope suddenly loosened. I sprawled on the floor.
"You all right, spacer chick?" he said as he squatted next to me and untied my wrists. "You come with me, we’ll fix you up good." He pulled the rope free.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my wrists. "Thanks, I think."
"They call me Doggo." He held out out a small bottle.
"Dace," I answered and took the bottle.
"Drink. It will help."
It was strong, burning all the way to my belly where it spread warmth. I took another swallow, feeling pains melt under the heat of it. I stoppered it and gave it back to Doggo.
A sharp whistle sounded once. Doggo yanked me to my feet and shoved me towards the door. I bit back a scream at the pain.
"Move fast, or those scraggers will tie you back up," Doggo said as he shoved me towards the door.
I moved as fast as I could. I had no idea who Doggo was, or what group he was with, but he wasn’t currently trying to beat me or tie me up. I went with him.
We crashed through the door and into the alley. The light was dimming fast. He took my hand and pulled me down the alley and through a gap I never would have seen. We ran down another, me stumbling on the garbage underfoot. We came to a tumbled stack of pipes, left behind from some construction project years ago, to judge by the rust.
