Galactic Outlaws (Galaxy's Edge Book 2)

by Nick Cole

  Regardless, Keel was determined to keep the pink-skinned humanoid on his ship as long as she was willing. For all the credits he’d put into the Six, he couldn’t quite remember a time it operated so well as since Leenah began going over it with a tension wrench.

  Leenah smiled at Keel. “Well, whatever happens, I’m thankful. You saved my life, after all.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Keel said somewhat absently as the speedlift accelerated. “Well, you're welcome.”

  A comm indicator beeped.

  “It’s Lao Pak again,” Ravi informed Keel before the captain had the chance to check his comm.

  “Ignore it,” Keel ordered.

  “At some point he will no longer wait for you to answer why you took his best coder.” Ravi held up a finger for emphasis. “And this after he specifically made you promise not to do the very thing you have done.”

  Garret’s face blanched. “H-he’s not… mad, is he?”

  “Of course not,” Keel said, giving the coder an incredulous look. “We’re old pals.”

  “But,” Garret protested, “Lao Pak kills deserters. It’s his favorite thing to do in the world.”

  Leenah cleared her throat. “Is he the one that the general stayed with to see about joining the rebellion?”

  Keel let out a nervous chuckle. “That would be him,” he said, giving Ravi a don’t-say-anything look.

  The hologram shook his head disapprovingly.

  The princess pulled on a pink tendril hanging down from her head. “I’m sure once the general explains the rebellion’s need for a stronger fleet to resist the Republic, Lao Pak will be more than willing to help.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Lao Pak at all…” began Garret. He looked to Keel, as if asking permission to elaborate and dispel what was obviously an incorrect opinion.

  Keel gave a fractional shake of his head, indicating that Garret had talked quite enough. “I guess we’ll see,” the captain said, attempting to sound upbeat. This lift ride couldn’t be over fast enough. He looked to Ravi, who seemed to be enjoying watching his captain squirm. “But who knows? Lao Pak can be persuasive. The general might end up joining him. The boy general turned pirate prince. Story writes itself, really.”

  “He doesn't usually give you a choice,” Garret said under his breath.

  “What do you mean?” Leenah asked.

  “Okay,” Keel laughed. “Let’s just… stay focused, huh?”

  “Wait,” Leenah insisted. “Did General Parrish stay behind voluntarily?”

  Keel winced. “In the sense that he didn’t have any other choice… yes.”

  The princess’s eyes grew wide. “You left him! You abandoned him to a vicious pirate!”

  “I had to abandon someone,” Keel said, hovering somewhere between defensive and incredulous. “Lao Pak needed some compensation after I… well, he couldn’t just let everyone go, and I couldn’t kill him. Well, that’s not true. I could have killed him. But there’s a lot of money for all of us with him alive.”

  Ravi raised an eyebrow. This was the first time he’d heard Keel suggest the crew keep any of the bounty.

  “But… but…” Leenah seemed to be searching her Endurian brain for just the right word. “This is… knavery!”

  Keel shifted his eyes from side to side. “That’s a very princessy word, Your Highness. You can call it knavery, but the rest of the story is that I saved your life—twice! Lao Pak wanted you—and your friend, the boy general, was more than happy to see you go. He didn’t seem to think too highly of you once you’d served your purpose in getting him rescued off that little rebel base, Your Majesty.”

  Leenah looked down, and Keel knew that he’d hurt her. “Look, Leenah, I—”

  The princess waved him off. “No, I understand. It would seem I owe you thanks for my life yet again, Captain Keel.”

  Only the smooth whir of the rising speedlift could be heard.

  Garret was the first to speak again. “You know, Captain Keel rescued me, too. I was basically an indentured servant under Lao Pak. I think he’s a good man.”

  Ravi let out a one-note laugh. “Ha!”

  “Thanks, pal,” Keel grumbled.

  The speedlift chimed to indicate its arrival at level three thousand.

  “If we’re all friends again, let’s remember the plan,” Keel instructed as an indicator light told riders to stand back from the lift door. “We’re just a friendly spacer outfit looking for work. Garret here remembered an old contact at Trident, so we’re all going fishing for a contract together.”

  They stepped off the speedlift and into a grand waiting room. Luxurious leather sofas and exotic woods studded the area. Paintings and sculptures, both physical and holographic, were seeded tastefully along the considerable walk to a lone reception desk at the end of the room. A massive trident, wrought and shaped out of pure silvene, was fastened to the thirty-foot-high wall behind the desk, its prongs pointed down.

  The entire floor was leased by the Trident Corporation. On its info-site, the company identified itself as a “multifaceted holding company specializing in the acquisition of small to mid-sized companies with an emphasis…” Et cetera. Left out was Trident’s employment of a coder through the dark market to undertake a reprogramming job that was indisputably illegal, according to the Robotics Conduct laws that had come about near the end of the Savage Wars. But these dark market brokers had set up on Corsica, instead of a place like Tannespa or Ackabar, which meant that the appearance of respectability was crucial to their success. The powerful and wealthy—and the Maydoons seemed to be exactly that—weren’t likely to go to the seedy underbelly of the galaxy, where a double-cross was more likely than anything else. Instead, they would come to Trident.

  A young woman in a gray business dress, her blond hair pulled back into a tight bun, sat behind the desk. She looked up to appraise the foursome moving toward her, arching a single, thin eyebrow before returning to her work. The approach would take time, so vast was the room. And though it was large enough to double as a hangar bay, Keel’s team and the receptionist were the only beings in the room.

  “Why should we ask for a contract?” Garret whispered. He shook his head nervously. “I thought we were just going to ask where to find Maydoon.”

  “We are,” answered Keel with a roll of his eyes. “But we're not just going to come out and say it. They’ll get suspicious. Think we’re out to track down a rich client and rob ’em. Bad for business.”

  Joining in the whispered conversation, Leenah said, “No one’s told me what the three of you are planning on doing with this Maydoon individual once you find him.”

  Keel looked at the princess, considering what to say. She looked earnest.

  “Yes, Captain,” Ravi said with a wry smile. “What are we to be doing?”

  Keel frowned. He didn’t relish the idea of having two conscience-minded beings on board. Ravi was about all the moral compass Keel could stand. “Oh, you know… just tell him someone's looking for him.”

  Somewhat perceptively, the princess asked, “You're not going to kill him, are you?”

  Keel made a show of being wounded. “Me? What makes you think I would kill him?”

  “It just seems like you've killed a lot of people since I've met you,” Leenah observed. “I heard you and Ravi talk about the legionnaires you shot. I nearly broke my neck while you were shooting pirates out of existence…”

  “You do seem a bit violent,” Garret agreed.

  “Those were all justified,” Keel insisted. “Even Ravi was willing to kill the pirates.”

  “Weren’t they your friends?” the princess asked, giving Keel a pointed look.

  Garret also looked to Keel for an answer.

  “Well, not those particular pirates. Just the guy they worked for.” Keel pointed a finger at Leenah. “And you’re one to talk! A princess in open warfare against the Republic.”

  Ravi laughed. “Hoo, hoo, hoo.”

  “Laugh it up, Ravi,” Keel sai
d. “Who knows how many people you killed during the Savage Wars before you finally… never mind. Let’s just go see Garret’s contact.”

  They walked the remaining distance to the front desk.

  The receptionist examined the party, her face expressionless. After a pause so long that Keel wondered if he’d have to say the first word, she asked, “Yes?”

  Keel nudged Garret in the ribs. The coder rubbed his side as though the captain’s elbow really hurt, then stepped forward. “I… we wanted to see Mr. Kimer.”

  “You don’t have an appointment,” the secretary replied with a finality that suggested that while she could be mistaken… she wasn’t.

  Garret glanced at Keel with uncertainty in his eyes. “H-he… he said I could stop in any time and…”

  The secretary didn’t even look up from the holoscreen built into her desk. “No, that’s not accurate. I can’t let you in to see him.”

  “Actually, you know what?” Keel said, his voice conversational and friendly. “You’re busy. We’re all old friends, us and… Kimbler—”

  “Kimer,” corrected Garret.

  “Right. We go way back. So just… watch your holodrama or whatever, and we’ll go see Kim… Kimbl… our old pal. Garret, you remember how to get to his office?”

  The receptionist pushed herself up from her desk. “I’m sorry. You have your answer. I suggest you come back another time.”

  The coder gave a nervous nod and turned to leave.

  Keel grabbed him by the collar and grinned at the receptionist. “We’ll just drop in. It’ll only take a minute.”

  With a hard voice, the receptionist said, “I said you have your answer. Don’t go back there.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Keel said, striding toward the high double doors just beyond the reception desk. “Thank you, though. I can see you take your job very seriously. Good for you.”

  In a blur, the woman swung herself around the desk and made herself a barricade between Keel and the door. She stood coiled, in a martial defense stance Keel didn’t recognize.

  “I estimate a ninety percent chance she will attempt to physically halt your progress should you proceed,” Ravi said.

  “Really?” Keel asked the receptionist. “You want to hit me that bad?”

  The young woman whirled her arms and raised her front foot slightly off the ground in a combat posture. The motion pulled up her sleeves, revealing a pair of black lotus tattoos on her forearms.

  “So, probably one hundred percent,” Ravi said. The hologram stepped toward the woman, his palms up, his posture non-threatening. “There is little to be gained in resorting to physical violence, miss. I—”

  The receptionist performed a jumping roundhouse kick that passed through Ravi’s holographic head. Keel drew his blaster, aiming from the hip and locking eyes with the receptionist. She looked coldly at the captain, though it was clear to Keel that she was attempting to make sense of what had just happened with Ravi.

  “As I was saying,” Ravi continued as though nothing had happened, “you will do little more than get a good workout against me. And as for him,” Ravi nodded toward Keel, who had placed himself out of her physical reach. “Him you do not want to fight. Most definitely not.”

  A mocking smile crept over the receptionist’s face. “I’m a sister of the Lotus. I’ve trained my hands and feet to kill since I was seven years old. He doesn’t want to try and get past me.”

  “I am sure this is all true regarding your training regimen,” Ravi conceded. “But the fact remains that you weigh perhaps one hundred and fifteen pounds, while he weighs nearly twice as much. Such a size and strength advantage would result in significant trauma should he land even a single blow, while your skeletal and muscular structure at best could generate force enough to—”

  A chime sounded at the front desk. “Sentrella, who’s out there with you?”

  Before the secretary had the chance to react, Garret blurted out a reply. “Aldo! It's me, Garret Glover! I wanted to see about any work you might have…” He ended his sentence with a nervous laugh.

  Dead air followed, as if the person on the opposite end of the comm was taking time to consider. Finally, the voice answered with warmth. “Garret! It’s certainly been a while. Come on back here! Like I said before, there’s always work for a coder such as yourself.”

  Sentrella, the receptionist, straightened herself. “And the others?” she asked, staring at Keel ruefully as he re-holstered his weapon.

  “Others?” Aldo Kimer asked. “If they came with Garret, let them through. Garret, just come right in, buddy.”

  Sentrella stood aside, but did not open the doors.

  “Thanks,” Keel said, grabbing hold of one of the silvene handles. “I’ve got it.” He held one of the doors open as the rest of his crew passed by.

  “Sorry,” Leenah mumbled as she scooted past the receptionist’s glare.

  Keel gave a half smile as he let the door close behind him. “Told you we were old friends.”

  “Okay,” Garret said, pointing to a door just ahead and on the right. "That should be Aldo’s.”

  Though Keel had clearly heard Aldo say that Garret could come right into his office, the slender coder paused at the door and knocked timidly.

  The door slid open and Kimer said from inside, “Come on in, Garret.”

  The office was a museum of core-world pastiche. Each corner, holoportrait, bookshelf, and piece of furniture was perfectly matched to the opulent décor found in the deep core worlds. Kimer himself sat behind a massive desk in the middle of the room.

  Leenah and Garret took the two open chairs immediately in front of the desk, leaving Ravi and Keel to stand in the background.

  Aldo Kimer looked as though a hefty portion of his credits were reinvested into his appearance. His black hair was slicked back without a strand out of place, and he wore a custom-tailored spindark-silk suit. His face was free of spot or blemish, and his features bore the too-perfect look of the surgically altered. He looked up from behind a cigar, its smoke just now filling the room. “Who are your friends, Garret?”

  Keel held out his hand and approached the desk. “Captain Aeson Keel. It’s been a while between jobs, and Garret said you might have something for us.”

  Kimer stood to shake the captain’s hand, then sat back down. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m not sure what to say. I’m a great fan of what Garret can do as a code splicer, but I’m afraid I don’t have any of the sort of work you would be accustomed to as a spacer. Perhaps you'd have better luck at the port authority?” Kimer reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a datapad. “I have a contact there. He might be able to supply you with a harvest run or surplus system-to-system courier move.”

  Keel grabbed the back of Garret’s chair and tilted the coder to the side, causing him to spill out and stumble over to the side of Kimer’s desk. The captain flopped down into the chair and set a booted foot up on the desk. “Let’s not play coy, huh?”

  Kimer recoiled at Keel’s boot, but said nothing.

  “We both know what sort of company Trident is,” Keel said, waving a hand at the office. “And we both know what you do. No amount of expensive suits or smuggled cigars can hide that.” Keel removed his foot and leaned forward. “But you might not understand just what you have in front of you—other than Garret, I mean.”

  “And what is that?” Kimer looked miffed. Probably more from Keel calling him and Trident out than anything else. These types always tried to keep up the appearance of respectability. This was the sort who scolded their children for lying after a long day of fraud and blackmail.

  Leaning back again, Keel pointed to the princess. “She’s a mechanical genius who can bypass any security system known to man.” Leenah opened her mouth to speak, but Keel nudged her with the toe of his boot. “Ravi here,” he pointed his thumb at the hologram behind him, “has cognitive abilities bordering on prescient. Ravi, what’re the odds Kimer is thinking of calling in his secretary righ
t now?”

  “Based on body positioning, perspiration, eye contact, and the likelihood of a ‘trouble’ button mounted beneath his desk, I would say… twenty percent.”

  Kimer frowned and furrowed his brow, but didn’t contradict the hologram. “And what of you, Keel?”

  “With me you’ve got the best pilot in the galaxy. And fighter… and a whole lot more.” He looked to Leenah and winked. The Endurian princess turned a brighter shade of pink, which had the peculiar twin effect of making Keel’s heart race while also bringing about a certain feeling of embarrassment at his own brashness.

  “I’m listening.” Kimer leaned forward and steepled his fingertips. “What sort of action did you have in mind? Maybe boosting?” He shook his head. “No. Your type is more of a fence or a runner. Surely not an enforcer crew?”

  “Maybe that Maydoon family has more work for us?” Garret blurted out.

  Keel closed his eyes and swallowed a sigh. He watched as Kimer’s face went from puzzled, to wary, and finally… frightened.

  “Sorry,” Kimer said, his hand moving toward the call button beneath his desk. “I don’t have any work for you. Check the port.” He stood up, his face ashen. The name “Maydoon” had had quite an effect on the man. Gone was the suave confidence he’d exuded when they first entered his office.

  His office door slid open. Sentrella stood outside, beckoning for them to leave. “Let’s go,” she ordered.

  “I just remembered,” Kimer said, somewhat breathlessly, “I have another appointment. Good day.”

  The Six’s crew rose to their feet. “If you change your mind,” Keel said on his way out, “you wanna know how to reach me?”

  Kimer shook his head vigorously. He looked as though his mind were far away. “No. That’s—no. Good day, Captain. No.”

  13

  Aldo Kimer stood at the gallery window at the side of his office. He told himself that he would only watch the Corsican sun go down and then get back to closing up. But when the titian and golden hues faded into a distant purple glow on the horizon, Kimer didn’t stop looking. The dark market broker stood motionless for so long that his motion-sensing office lights all went out. The glowing red of a passing speeder’s taillights filled the office, casting Kimer’s long shadow against the opposite wall.