by Blaze Ward
And hey, there’s pirates here. I’m sorry but your cargo got taken at gunpoint. It was insured, right?
Finn smiled as he shook hands and let muscles in those grasps telegraph physiological notes to him.
Jorge Royo had not changed in eighteen years. Maybe forty, if you went back to early publicity stills, from the days when he was a serious actor. Before that one swashbuckler romantic comedy exploded and made him the biggest comedic actor in the octant for a few years.
And the man still possessed the most perfect sun tan ever recorded, according to experts who tracked that sort of thing.
His handshake was firm, but still a touch soft. Not quite as dominant as the eyes might have suggested.
Mrs. Jones was…
How do you describe the most beautiful woman in the galaxy?
Blond hair brushed back and full. Piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold the slightest hint of sadness to them. Cheekbones that might have been cut with a chisel.
Physically, the woman had passed the first bloom of perfect youth. It was there in the skin on her wrists and neck. Mid-forties, he would have guessed, depending on the work done, but she was still all curves and seduction, with muscles that suggested hours in the gym every week and a lot of time on a treadmill in space.
Finn kissed her hand gallantly. How often did you meet true royalty in the flesh?
And Longbow.
It really was him, although you had to kind of squint. Not that Finn could imagine why they would impersonate the man, since almost nobody remembered who he was, anymore. Which was a damned pity.
The next man was a flunky. Tall redhead with freckles and the beginning of a paunch. Bowed legs that made his walk awkward and a little silly. Smelled of chemicals Finn couldn’t identify, but it wasn’t aftershave. At least he didn’t think the smell qualified as aftershave for most of the women he had ever met.
Finn wasn’t going to judge.
The last man was a grifter. That much was obvious. A man with a dozen scams running at once, like irons in a fire that he could pull out as he needed. Or as the mark tumbled onto some bit of truth and needed to be distracted.
Yes, the grifter, Segura, would simply tack onto a different heading as the winds changed, flattering and threatening subtly as needed.
Finn smiled at the man anyway. Worse came to worst, he could probably just have the man shot out of hand. That was one of the perks of being governor of an entire planet. You could do shit like that as long as you didn’t ruffle too many feathers.
“How was your journey?” Finn asked as he got everyone seated, him at one end and Steafan on the other, with Aoki across from Mrs. Jones and the men scattered around that. Jorge Royo and the grifter ended up at his end of the table.
“Excellent,” Jorge chimed in, reaching out and grabbing a martini glass, then sipping delightedly at the contents. Even here the man was famous. “So nice to be remembered.”
“Remembered, señior?” Finn asked. “I would think you were quite famous still.”
Jorge shrugged in a way that communicated a level of angst that never made it to his eyes, a secret well hidden.
“You would think,” the god of tanning acknowledged, and then gestured at Finn’s shirt. “But even here, Framingham has more fans that I,”
“Luck of the dice, Señior Royo,” Finn tried to take the sting out of things with his smile. “My daughter found his album and played it constantly when it came this far. Eventually I got infected, as my wife can no doubt testify.”
“Do you have others in you?” Aoki turned to Longbow with a mock-serious face. “It’s nice, but I’d like other songs to listen to, and he will not be moved by modern music.”
Longbow shrugged diffidently, and then seemed to reach down into himself to find the words.
“I never could do lyrics, ma’am,” he replied in a voice so quiet Finn had to read his lips from seven feet away. “Learning to play the guitar again took so long that I never pursued it. The residuals do well enough, even now, and I can occasionally find work doing soundtracks to take vacations.”
Finn perked up. He hadn’t realized that there was other music the man had done.
“What films have you worked on, Longbow?” Finn called politely, hoping not to scare the man back into his shell.
“Twilight at Arkos Seven,” the rocker mumbled. “The Servant's Destruction. A few others. I mostly did the arranging and the strings.”
Finn nodded to Steafan. His First Officer nodded back, obviously fighting not to roll his eyes at the unspoken orders to locate those soundtracks and acquire them. Finn’s musical tastes were only sort of a running joke in the palace.
House servants began to deliver trays at this point to a buffet table along a side wall. Mimosas and such for everyone but Jorge. Both continental and hot options, depending on tastes and culture.
Finn had been awake since ungodly early, as had the others, if they were coming into orbit. Probably ship’s night for them, but omelets and various sausages, plus all manner of fruit from the greenhouse dome and freshly baked pastries.
Conversation was mostly interrupted as the two women went first, and then all the men, with Finn waiting until last.
The group was somehow more subdued than he anticipated. He had been expecting some level of boisterousness, especially remembering the debaucheries Jorge Royo and his uncle had gotten into back on Callumnia that one time.
This almost felt like a wake, a brave face on a depth of sadness.
Finn waited until the food was done and the plates cleared, noting who had refrained from alcohol this morning, going after coffee instead.
“So I understand from my First Officer that you’re interested in trying to make a movie,” Finn addressed himself to the grifter. Watched the man perk right up and prepare a spiel. “Has my office gotten a copy of the script to review? And your proposals for tax abatements and local service contracts?”
Nice way to deflect the man. Cool his ardor. Good scams always wanted to hit hard and fast and then run away before you figured out you’d been had.
Not quite the same way most pirates did it, but Finn had always had better success with quiet things. Disappeared ships instead of captured or wrecked ones. Smuggling things in impossible ways and never getting caught.
Even hiring his old ship, Dragonfly, as an armed convoy escort, where he could use his expertise to outthink the other captains, and make one hell of a profit for a much lower risk exposure.
The grifter deflated, just the weeest bit.
“They have not,” he replied, a little off kilter already. “I was unaware that was a protocol.”
“Assuming you wish to explore tax breaks and local contractors, that sort of legalism gets routed through my office,” Finn smiled triumphantly. “Much easier to weed out the bad customers that way, so we can deal with legitimate businessmen such as yourself.”
Finn had to give the grifter credit. The kid managed to not flinch all that much. So maybe there really was a script. And it was good enough to convince Jorge Royo and Mrs. Jones to attach themselves to it.
She had been a fantastic action star, up until a few years ago. Amazing stunts married with first-rate acting chops. Maybe she missed that, turning into the mother in romantic comedies or the betrayed wife to some action star male?
But maybe they were both suddenly out of work and desperate, she and Royo? Had the dream factory suddenly awakened and moved on to younger, cheaper stars, still disposable enough?
“I will have a copy transmitted as soon as we get back to the ship,” Segura nodded, suddenly more of a chastened schoolboy and less of a pimp. “Obviously, we could only guess at what the protocols might be in Corynthe, Governor.”
“Thank you,” Finn acknowledged. Best to get it all out on the table now, so he didn’t waste time if it was all a scam. Steafan could smell those things out pretty quickly. “So why the impatience?”
Royo spoke up suddenly, his voice taking on some of the gran
d eloquence for which he had been known throughout his career.
“Two issues, really,” the man’s bombast came back with a fist slammed emphatically on the table, yet still turned down to just the right level for this small of a room. “That bastard Gutierrez got a sniff at this script and hired a hack to make a different enough copy of it that I can’t sue him. Plus, he’s got an in with some folks in Salonnia to help him make it. Shooting on location, you know. More expensive than a soundstage, but when you can borrow ships and crew, your overhead drops tremendously. I want to beat him to the punch. Plus, his crew are going to be impersonating pirates, but I wanted the real thing.”
“I see,” Finn replied noncommittally.
“If your uncle was still alive, I’d hire him,” Jorge waxed poetic. “Got a small role that would have been perfect for him.”
“Oh, he’s still alive,” Finn smiled. “He retired five years ago to a beach on Petron.”
“Petron?” Jorge sudden turned his attention and his rage on the grifter. “Damn it, Segura, why aren’t we on Petron doing this?”
It was instructive, watching the kid placate Jorge without ever giving anything away. Or losing control of his lunch ticket.
“They’ve gone legit there these days, Jorge,” the man said carefully, like he was talking to an angry bull. “Almost as bad as Ramsey for permits and regulations. Filming would take even longer than if we’d stayed home in Lincolnshire to do this. You want real pirates, right? Not past-their-prime poseurs living on old glory.”
Oh, that was a low blow, kid. Rub his nose in it just a touch, without slapping him in the process.
“Jorge, we said we’d do it Rob’s way,” Mrs. Jones spoke with a plaintive edge just barely detectable. “You need to let him work.”
Jorge’s rage collapsed into itself and he leaned back, grumbling mostly under his breath and taking a hard hit of martini. More than Finn would have liked to drink, even in friendly company.
“And you, Mrs. Jones,” Aoki asked to keep the conversation flowing. “I read somewhere that you were going to pursue more serious roles in the future.”
“Where it turns out I can play the supportive wife of a man up for awards,” Mrs. Jones suddenly had a cruel sneer to her voice. “Or the nagging mother bothering the flavor of the week sex kitten. There are villain roles, if I wanted to chew scenery. That’s about all Lincolnshire cinema offers a woman over thirty-five, madam. Let me go back to kicking ass and taking names.”
Finn flinched inwardly at the tone. This woman was still a goddess, and she had to be in her early forties at least. The polar opposite of Aoki, blond hair to black. Muscles to warm curves. Blue eyes to brown. But she was still distilled sex in a bottle. Steafan had been covertly staring at her low-cut top, hoping nobody noticed.
But Finn had been doing the same.
The scam made more sense now. The kid had a script. Or, more likely, Jorge had a script and the kid had gotten himself attached like a tick, driving things to get financing and permissions for a slice that probably wouldn’t be that much, but would establish him as a player later, especially if Royo and Jones owed him favors for resuscitating their careers.
Longbow was the odd man out, but if he was reduced to doing soundtracks these days to pay bills, he was probably also looking for a good enough payday to break back into the big leagues.
Finn wondered how he could cut the kid out and manage the rest. And if it was worth doing.
8
Rob collapsed into the booth back aboard Valencia del Oro with a mug of coffee in his hand and the beginnings of a fantastic headache. The others had followed him in still silent after the debacle of a meal with a man too sharp for their mission.
“Kid, kid, kid,” Jorge settled in beside him with a fresh martini. “You were great back there. Don’t let anyone tell your different.”
Rob fixed him with a disbelieving eye, but Roxy smiled at him. Longbow practically preened. Nigel muttered something about cooking back in the machine lab and vanished.
Raef just sat in the middle of the booth and watched things.
“On the brighter side, I don’t have to sex kitten all over the place,” Roxy laughed. “I might have nothing to do on this gig but lay by the pool and complete with Jorge for tan.”
“Don’t be too sure about that young lady,” Jorge growled. “I’m sure there’s still a decent level of seduction in your future.”
“You saw that way the man looked at his wife, Jorge,” Roxy grinned. “Longbow’s more likely to succeed at seducing the governor than I am.”
“Ah, but you forgot about the other man, sweetie,” Jorge grinned back. “The one who spent the whole time trying to look down your front and study your breasts.”
“Jorge, most men do that as automatically as breathing,” she sighed theatrically and settled back. “I could dress like a nun and they’d be trying to catch a peek at my ankles.”
“They are nice ankles,” Longbow observed. “Especially when you…”
“I didn’t ask you, Levi,” she growled.
Rob settled his weight forward again and studied the group.
“You think he’s not onto us?” Rob asked. Mostly Jorge, but everyone. Raef grinned innocently, but she hadn’t been there.
“Oh, he’s absolutely onto us, kid,” Jorge said. “But you showed him all the wrong things. Or right, depending on where you sit. Poor guy thinks we’re all saps and that you’ve got us strung out on a merry song and dance routine, and that you’re looking to leapfrog our fame and contacts and get rich.”
“I could get rich in this business?” Rob asked innocently.
“Only when you go freelance, Handsome,” Jorge smiled. “That club where we meet? I own the joint. As well as about a dozen others in various cities. Great way to generate cash flow, then launder it when the Service pays me under the table for things. Like this mission.”
“Okay, so how do we spin this scam to fit things?” Rob fired back. “Assuming we can keep running these lies and not get caught.”
“Well, like Roxy said, Longbow gets to play the ingénue now,” Jorge laughed as Levi leaned forward and did a melodrama waif facing eviction for her father’s bills. “That’s pretty good. You sure you were never an actor?”
“Oh, I could have been an actor,” Levi reminded him. “But I wound up here.”
“We got a middle-aged fanboy,” Jorge continued. “That line about you needing someone to write lyrics is probably blossoming as we speak. I’m guessing someone is off to find you a writer. If that works we might also end up with producer credits on Longbow’s long awaited comeback album, if that’s what it takes to get the governor on board.”
“Hey, Raef,” Longbow turned to the captain next to him and kissed her on the cheek. “Can I hire you for a year if I need to do a concert tour?”
“Only if the Service is paying for it, rocker boy,” Raef laughed. “You’re too cheap.”
“Madam, you wound me,” Levi played the displaced lover.
“She’s right, Levi,” Roxy laughed. “You are cheap.”
“I prefer to think of it as frugal, I’ll have you know.”
“Whatever, kid,” Jorge took charge again. “So, Handsome, here’s where it gets a little strange, but you’re absolutely the best agent I know for it.”
“Go ahead,” Rob said seriously.
Jorge didn’t say things like that frivolously. The man was a legend because he was the best, and only worked with the best.
“So Finn probably thinks you’re the weak link here,” Jorge said, falling into a rare serious moment. “He’ll be looking to rescue the three of us from your clutches, which is about what we expected, but he’ll be doing it through Longbow, rather than Mrs. Jones. My game won’t change much, so I get to drink and carouse on someone else’s creditstik, which is still the best game in the world when you can get it.”
“Okay, so we keep playing it straight, as far as he’s concerned,” Rob agreed. “Then what?”
<
br /> “At some point, he’s going to have you utterly outmaneuvered because he’s such an awesome operator,” Jorge grinned. “That’s when you’ll drop the boom on him. By then we should have a pretty good idea which way he’ll jump, and Roxy will have been plying her talents on junior varsity players to bring them to the table, as will I.”
“The man had a hard, cold look in his eyes, Jorge,” Rob reminded the man.
“He did,” Jorge agreed. “Try not to get yourself arrested or shot before you can have that showdown scene, okay? If he didn’t react like he would, I would be talking about cutting him completely out as a worthless sack of shit, like that commodore we captured with the ship. Only the good guys are going to go out of their way to help us do this thing.”
“So we feel better by cheating a paladin than a rogue?” Rob asked, clarifying.
“Oh, he’ll get something out of the deal,” Jorge said. “Not sure what just yet. Maybe a new Longbow album and we’ll ask him to sing backup on a track or something. That’s Levi’s scam to sort out. We just back him when we get there. Remember, the Governor is just a gatekeeper, not the whole mission. You and Nigel will be doing the heavy lifting from here, just like last time.”
Rob nodded. He wasn’t a wide-eyed innocent any more, if he had ever been. And at the end of the day, his orders were to find a way to neutralize a secret naval base that a Salonnian Syndicate had built. The kind of base that threatened trade in peace, and gave them a nasty edge for surprise raids, if war ever returned to this sector of space.
The latter was harder to guess, since Corynthe was supposedly tightly allied to both Aquitaine and Salonnia’s patron, The Fribourg Empire, at least today. Hell, peace might be breaking out all over the octant as everyone turned together to face down some distant, robotic, killing machine closer in to the center of the galaxy.
