"You have traveled a great distance," I said. "Surely we could offer refreshments."
The middle-aged Felio, who was first in line for the powerful House Mshindi, bowed slightly at the waist. "Your offer is acceptable."
"If we'd known you were coming, we'd have cleaned up," I said as we entered the main room of the bungalow Tabby, Marny, Nick and I shared. Suddenly self-conscious, I removed some of the dishes we had sitting out.
"Your accommodations are adequate." She sat on the edge of a chair, accepted a bottle of beer, and placed it on the table next to her.
"What brings you to Zuri, Mshindi Second?" Ada asked.
Mshindi cocked her head quizzically at Ada. "Loose Nuts Corporation brings Mshindi to Zuri. I would have thought this transparent."
Ada turned and raised her eyebrows at me.
"How can we help you?" I asked.
"We have returned the ship identified as Tuuq," she said.
"Mshindi Tertiary made it clear the captured ship would be seized by House Mshindi, but we gratefully accept it,” I said. “The return of a ship seems a small matter for Mshindi Second. We would have gladly come to pick it up. "
"True your words are. An alternate idea was delivered by a human comrade I converse with on schedule."
"You are talking about more than giving us Tuuq," Nick said.
Mshindi Second pulled a rolled piece of paper from beneath her tunic and handed it to me. "It was the idea of a human, LaVonne Sterra. She communicated the idea of Privateers. It is an idea the Abasi Council embraces hotly."
"You're making us Privateers?" I asked, unwrapping it. My eyes immediately glazed over at the fine print on the page and I handed it to Nick.
"You speak clearly. I deliver to you a Letter of Marque."
Corsair Menace
Chapter 1
It's Called Coercion
Santaloo System, Planet Zuri, Loose Nuts enclave outside of York township
“What do you make of this pirate named Belvakuski?” I asked, projecting the Pogona’s face onto the wall in our bungalow on Zuri.
Pogona were the most human-looking of all the aliens we’d run into. The most striking difference was loose, wrinkled skin beneath their chin that caused them to resemble lizards. Belvakuski’s loose jowls had been pierced through with colorful jewelry.
“A powerful adversary is the Genteresk.” Mshindi Second sat primly on the edge of her chair.
House Mshindi had honored us by sending the Felio, second only to her mother, to bestow on us the Letter of Marque and deliver the cutter-sized ship Tuuq as our first prize. The Abasi had learned of our previous status as privateers from contacts they’d made on Earth and were willing to extend a similar offer for the Santaloo star system. The task seemed well below Mshindi Second’s station, but I wasn’t about to let her leave without gathering whatever intel she might be willing to share.
“Genteresk operates a base on the moon Cenaki which creases the sky of Fan Zuri,” she continued. “Belvakuski is not pursued within Pogona territory.”
Zuri, where we were currently located, and Fan Zuri, were the only inhabitable planets in the Santaloo system. I’d learned Fan Zuri was controlled by lizard chins (our slang for Pogona) and it was news to me the Abasi didn’t consider the planet to be their territory.
“Confederation of Planets just lets the Genteresk hijack other ships?” I asked.
“House Mshindi does not favor the politic that allows Genteresk free operation. The Confederation of Planets’ judiciary requires matters relating to Genteresk be prosecuted by Nijjar government,” Mshindi Second explained and then stood.
Out of respect, we stood with her.
“Seriously?” Nick, my best friend and business partner, was always one step ahead in every conversation. “Isn’t Nijjar the Pogona government? We’re dozens of lightyears from their home planet. How did they gain standing here?”
“For three-hundred-fifty spans, Nijjar occupy Fan Zuri. Abasi treaty becomes strained, resulting from separation with Strix,” Mshindi Second said. “Loose Nuts is sharp sword of reprisal. Mshindi Second desists.” With a bow, Mshindi Second nodded to the guard who stood at the front door.
“Reprisal?” Nick asked, following her closely.
“Yes, Nicholas James. Sterra Admiral illuminated that a privateer achieves where government lacks will. I anticipate with moist tongue your arrival at prize court.”
We followed her into the front yard of our humble bungalows. Without looking over her shoulder, she and her guard loaded into the shuttle in which she’d arrived and took off.
“Moist tongue?” Tabby asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Felio idiom for salivating in anticipation of prey,” Nick answered.
Tabby rolled her eyes. “My interpreter AI needs an interpreter AI.”
A glint of sunlight caught my attention. A caravan of vehicles was moving at high speed on the road from York. It was late in the day and Nick’s employees had all returned home for the night.
“What the frak is that about?” Tabby asked.
“They’re not from York,” Nick observed. My AI locked in on the vehicles and steadied the view. The wheeled and heavily armored vehicles bounced along, their speed not well suited to the narrow road.
“Everyone inside,” Marny commanded. “There’s no time to make for the ships.”
She was right. While Fleet Afoot sat only a hundred meters from our position, the vehicles were hurtling toward us at too great a speed.
“Jonathan, we have trouble. Don’t come out until we have it resolved. We’re taking cover in the bungalows.”
Jonathan was a collection of non-biological sentients that resided in a humanoid body. The host had been provided to them by the extraordinarily wealthy inventor, Thomas Anino. Aside from being interested in all things new, Jonathan often had his own agenda. We were glad to have him as part of the crew whenever he was willing to join us.
"We will batten down the hatches," Jonathan replied. Strangely, Jonathan had the ability to construct sentences that were indistinguishable from those spoken by their human counterparts, something our AIs weren't even capable of.
“Incoming comm,” Nick said.
“Goboble,” we said together, as I’d received the same comm.
I pulled a blaster pistol and holster from the closet where we stored our weapons and strapped it around my waist.
“They’re pulling up,” Tabby said, looking through the front window.
The bungalows were designed to withstand the hostilities of the often-spawning Kroerak, but I doubted they’d hold up to the force I’d seen rolling down the hill. I longed for the mechanized suits that sat in the hold of Fleet Afoot.
“Accept comm request,” I instructed my ever-listening AI. “This is Hoffen.”
“Come outside. We have items to discuss.” Goboble’s voice rumbled over the comm channel and his dark gray, stone-textured face filled my HUD.
I muted comms and looked to Nick. “Any idea what this is about?”
“Could be any number of things,” said he replied. “Can’t be good, though. My best guess is he’s calling in the note.”
“I thought we’d been making payments.” We were in to Goboble for four hundred thousand Abasi credits after he’d purchased the bond we lost when we’d been forced to abandon our cargo.
“Goboble is charging a vig,” Nick said. “We’re barely staying afloat.”
“Vig?”
“Vigorish,” Nick said, as if that explained it to me.
My AI recognized my confusion and displayed a definition. Best I could tell, Goboble was charging us illegal interest.
“We didn’t agree to that,” I said.
“He’s pretty sore about you handing over his guy to the Abasi,” Nick said.
“Well, frak.”
We’d made tough decisions when the fate of Earth hung in the balance. It might be time to pay the piper.
“What’s our balance?” I asked.
/> “Four hundred fifty-eight thousand,” Nick said. “He’s adding ten thousand a week.”
“Stay here,” I said, giving him a quick nod.
“Probably not.” Tabby strapped grenade marbles to her lapel and grabbed a heavy blaster rifle.
I knew better than to argue with her.
“You cannot hide in there, Liam Hoffen,” Goboble said. The Golenti smuggler had a flat affect to his voice.
I opened the comm channel and walked to the front door. “I’m coming.”
“Be careful, Cap,” Marny said. “We’ve got your backs with the house turrets.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” I pushed through the front door. “What’s this about, Goboble?” I asked, resting the palm of my hand on the butt of the blaster.
From the largest of the three vehicles, an IFV (Infantry Fighting Vehicle, or Stryker as Marny would later name it), a rear hatch lifted and metal stairs rotated out, flopping onto the hard-packed ground. Goboble’s Felio guards, Charena and Hakenti, slunk out and surveyed the area. The two Felio were deadly fighters.
“It seems we have come to a conflict in our operating agreement,” Goboble said as he emerged from the back of the vehicle. The Golenti’s skin was rich with calcium and gave the appearance of being made of rock. I’d heard rumor that flechette darts and light blaster fire had little effect on that natural armor. “Loose Nuts is not living up to the payment schedule of our bond and your flow of liquid currency is negative. I find you in default in both contracts.”
“We just delivered parts to Kapik,” I said. “We’re expecting payment within five days. We should be able to pay you eighty thousand then.”
“Goboble is businessman first,” he said, stepping closer so he stood at arms-length. “If Loose Nuts was capable of making payments, I would not be here today.”
I swallowed, choosing to exercise patience. “You’re our business partner, Goboble. You thrive if we thrive. Give us the week.”
“There is no point. Your shipment was rejected by Bakira Corporation,” he said. “You will have no payment.”
“Bilge water,” I said. “I delivered the parts myself.”
“Hold on, Liam.” Nick’s voice cut through on what I knew to be a private channel. “I just got a comm from Bakira.”
“A minute?” I asked. Goboble nodded his head in agreement.
One minute turned into ten and Nick finally got back to me. “I just talked to my Bakira rep. Strix are putting pressure on them not to deal with us.”
My face must have given away the conversation.
“Unfortunate that you learn of your fate in this way,” Goboble chided.
“What’s the bottom line, Nick?” I asked.
“Bakira is backing out of the deal. They’re going to pay us twenty thousand for restocking.”
I looked at Goboble accusingly.
He cracked a thin smile. “A good businessman anticipates events. I would prefer currency to our current predicament, but my capital is a premium and I find you to be untrustworthy.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “We’ve treated you more fairly than you are treating us.”
“A strange interpretation,” he said. “You handed my business partner to Abasi. It is no secret that you lay with the furry cowards. Did you not think word would get back to me of Ferin’s capture?”
Goboble had me. Our predicament with him had started when we’d dropped the cargo he was shipping and handed a slimy pirate named Ferin over to the Abasi.
“You validate the truth of my statement with your eyes.” His words appeared to be a cue to Hakenti and Charena as they raised their weapons threateningly. “Your actions are punishable by death on my homeworld of Golenti. A deal is sacred and you lack honor.”
In response to the twin Felio guard’s actions, Tabby aimed her blaster rifle at Goboble’s head. “You have a lot of nerve talking honor, shite-stain. Every time you talk, you change our deal.”
I winced inwardly. The ten thousand a week vig was something new, but we’d mostly signed up for the problems we were having. There were extenuating circumstances, but he was within his right to hold us to our contracts.
“Guns aren’t necessary,” I said, placing my hand on the barrel of Tabby’s rifle, unsuccessful in my attempt to push it down.
The sound of vehicle brakes caught my attention. I’d been so focused on the conversation with Goboble that I hadn’t noticed the stream of two and four-person carriages pulling up on our position.
Hakenti and Charena shifted as three additional armed men exited from Goboble’s vehicle and twin turrets popped up from its roof. A dozen York citizens piled out of their carriages, formed up around us and aimed a collection of older weaponry at Goboble’s group. Their armaments were the equivalent of pitchforks and clubs compared to Goboble’s, but they helped level the field — if only slightly.
“You okay, Liam?” Jackson ‘Hog’ Hagarson called.
“Heya, Hog,” I said. “Goboble and I were just talking some things through.”
“You should not be here, Jackson Hagarson,” Goboble said, raising his voice. “We are not friends, but we are not enemies. My quarrel is with this human who is incapable of paying his debts.”
“I know all about your debts, Goboble. You take advantage of people in need and then screw them when you get the chance,” Hog retorted. “Hoffen and crew are part of York now. You mess with them, you mess with us.”
I felt a mix of pride and fear at the big man’s words. He shouldn’t be squaring off with Goboble for us.
“Your bravado endangers your people, Jackson Hagarson,” Goboble said evenly. “Do not make the mistake of joining with such as these. It will bring only ruin.”
Things were rapidly spinning out of control and I needed to get us back on track. “Your argument is with me, Goboble. What do you want?”
“Four hundred, sixty-five thousand Abasi credits,” he said.
“You know we don’t have that on hand.”
“I will take Fleet Afoot and you will owe me two hundred thousand,” he said.
“That’s rat piss,” I said. “Fleet Afoot is worth eight hundred thousand to a million.”
“Have you a buyer then? I have come to call your debt,” he said.
“He’ll never give in," Tabby shifted forward, still aiming her weapon at Goboble. "I say we do this. I’ll pop his head like a fudge-pot tick. I don’t care if his skin is made of diamonds. I guarantee he’s never been hit by a full charge from one of these babies.”
“The only reason you still live is that your finger has not yet contacted the trigger mechanism of your weapon, Tabitha Masters,” Goboble said in that low, patient voice I was beginning to dearly hate. As he spoke, turrets from the other vehicles popped up and aimed at the people of York.
“Nick?” I asked. “What are you thinking, buddy?”
“Cap,” Marny cut in. “We’re looking at high casualties. Those mini-turrets on Goboble’s vehicles are state-of-the-art.”
“Stall him, Liam,” Nick said.
I lowered my voice to a mere whisper. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Four minutes.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Four minutes was an eternity.
“Fleet Afoot and we’re even,” I said. “No bond. No vig. No agreements. We’ll get our gear out of the hold and she’s all yours.”
“Liam, are you nuts?” Tabby asked.
“You have offered nothing new,” Goboble said. “Why would I negotiate from my position of power? You will place many deaths on your side of the ledger.”
“Two things,” I said. “First. You’re using the wrong value for Fleet Afoot. You think she’s the ship you sold us. It’s just not the case. Abasi repaired her weapon systems, put in new fold-space drives, and upgraded the living spaces. She’s first class all the way. Plus, she’s the fastest ship we’ve seen in this galaxy, at least with anything near her weight.”
“I know of thes
e things,” Goboble replied. “My offer is to reduce your debt to two-hundred seventy-five thousand and we will remain business partners in Zug Enterprises.”
I wanted to roll my eyes at the mention of Zug. It was a corporation he’d formed so that we could share a seventy-five, twenty-five split of the profits from operating Fleet Afoot. I resisted the urge.
“That’s a horrible deal,” I said. “Why would I take that?”
“You have no choice.”
“You’re negotiating at the end of the gun barrel,” I said. “Back home we call that coercion and it’s not legal.”
“We are a significant distance from your home, human," Goboble said. "We stand in the wilds of Zuri. Coercion is a common negotiating tactic."
“You do understand my AI won’t allow me to turn over control of a ship if I’m under duress, right? Fleet Afoot might as well be a pile of rocks where you’re concerned if we don’t come to terms.”
“I am prepared for this,” he said. “Hakenti, if you will.”
Hakenti walked to the lead vehicle, an APC (Armored Patrol Craft), which was smaller than the Stryker, yet big enough to hold a maximum of five. From the back seat, he pulled two of our crew — Sempre and Roby Bishop. Sempre, a Felio female, was unconscious and her arm hung at an odd angle as she was tossed onto the ground. Roby stumbled forward and fell next to her, moaning.
“You’re dead, Goboble,” I growled.
“Careful with your words, Captain,” Goboble said. “My guard found this pair in Azima. Let it be known we can find you anywhere.”
“You beat kids?" I spat. "This is how you negotiate?”
“A useful demonstration," he said. "You have delayed enough, Captain Hoffen. You will agree to my terms. You will turn over Fleet Afoot immediately or we will discover if my head indeed bursts like a fudge-pot tick as your mate has indicated.”
The faint sound of the whirring of gears caught my attention just before an orange blaster bolt tore through the air a meter above the Stryker and its twin turrets. The bolt embedded itself in the hillside some forty meters away, brilliantly exploding a tree and triggering a shower of rocks. Without thinking, I ducked and instinctively pulled my pistol from my belt.
Corsair Menace (Privateer Tales Book 12) Page 3
