Star Risk, LTD.: Book One of the Star Risk Series

by Chris Bunch

  “There is that,” Baldur said. “I’ve reported my progress to him just now, without, of course, naming names.”

  He considered.

  “Why not,” he decided. “Also, we could use an additional ship that isn’t obviously a combat one.

  “Go outsystem to the same people we got Spada’s ships from for your craft, so you two can come in clean. As I recall, our salesperson … her name was Winlund, by the way, said Transkootenay’s credit is good.”

  “Thanks,” Goodnight said, then frowned. “Uh, I don’t want to get you involved in nit-peddling. But Reg told me he was a little pissed we used that company. Said Transkootenay hadn’t used them for a long, long time, and he didn’t want the paperwork to get his ass in a sling back at the home office.”

  “You are not causing troubles by your caution,” Baldur said. “Right now, we want to make as few waves as we can. Again, go offworld, but pay for it out of one of Star Risk’s accounts. Our accounts are fat enough so we can pick up the tab, then bill Transkootenay directly.” He suddenly frowned.

  “What’s the matter?” Goodnight asked.

  “Nothing,” Baldur said. “Something flickered at me, but it is gone now. If it is important, no doubt it shall come back.

  “Have fun mining, children,” he said. “Oh yes. If there’s any conflict, Riss is in charge. She is far less flighty than you, Mr. Goodnight.

  “Strike it rich. And try to get in trouble. Clear.”

  The screen blanked.

  “So that’s the way it shall be,” Grok said. “I have to sit here, twiddling all four sets of thumbs, and you go out for adventure.

  “As for your analyzing those contact reports with the raiders, why don’t you leave them here, with me? I have a far more analytical mind than you, meaning no offense, Chas. Plus it’ll give me something to do, besides puzzling over some other matters.”

  “Nope,” Goodnight said. “You may have a nice, analytical brain, but I’ve got something better.”

  “Which is?”

  “A criminal mind.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  The lim overflew carefully irrigated orchards of fruit trees, what appeared to be corn, vast fields of not-quite-Earth green grass, and grazing beef animals, taller than cows, with heavier legs, forward-pointing tipped horns, and shaggy coats.

  “Virtue is, of course, its own reward,” Jasmine King said, admiring the land below.

  The privacy screen between them and the driver was closed, although both she and Baldur were far too sophisticated to believe they weren’t being listened to.

  “Obviously you and I chose the wrong profession,” Baldur said. “Perhaps, one day, it might be appealing to have such a … spread, I think is the word, I suppose because it appears to spread forever.

  “Ah. I suspect I see our destination.”

  The lim dropped down toward a compound with tall wooden fences in irregular lines. Baldur pointed to the automated guard towers here and there, and didn’t need to say anything.

  The central buildings were also unusual, dug in so their roofs were no more than two or three meters above the ground.

  “Nice, entrenched development, good protection against an air strike. A true sign of a clear conscience,” King said, and the lim landed.

  Four men came out to meet them.

  Baldur got out, favoring one leg, and using a thin cane for a support.

  Baldur evaluated them. Fairly professional, he decided. Especially since there wasn’t the hint of a gun showing.

  He saw movement from a cupola, guessed these four probably weren’t even carrying weaponry. An autocannon in that cupola would provide more than enough security, even if it might be hard on the greeters. But that was what they were paid for.

  “Mr. Klinger, welcome to Mar Trac’s home,” one man said. He’d eyed King, figured her for nothing more than a rented bimbo, ignored her.

  “Yes,” Baldur said. “This is my companion and advisor, Choly Wells.” He put emphasis on the word “advisor,” and suddenly the man became vastly more friendly to King.

  “Please come inside,” the man said. “It’s hot, and I’m sure you could use a cold drink.”

  “Indeed,” Baldur said, and followed the four. Two went first, the others behind Baldur and King.

  They went through a large, hand-carved door, stopped by a metal arch.

  The first man bowed Baldur through the arch, an obvious detector.

  Baldur casually leaned his cane against one side of the arch, went through, holding his arms out. There was a click.

  King did the same, also received the metallic approval.

  Baldur picked up his cane, marked the four down a notch in his estimation for not noticing it hadn’t gone through the detector, followed them into a vast living room.

  The house was very masculine, all dark wood and leather.

  King wondered if that was Trac’s personal taste, something she used to keep men feeling secure when they had to deal with a woman, or if she’d bought the property as it was.

  The man, who didn’t introduce himself, offered the Star Risk pair alcohol, was declined. He smiled thinly, and poured iced fruit juice.

  The two sipped in silence. The guards made no attempt to make casual conversation, and Baldur marked them down another peg.

  They were halfway through their drinks when Mar Trac made her Entrance, down an elaborately worked staircase that led below.

  “Mr. Klinger, Miss Wells, I am Mar Trac,” the woman said. She wore a simple, very expensive, gray suit and dark shoes. Her hair was short, styled. The only jewelry that showed was a pair of tiny earrings and a surprisingly large, old-fashioned timepiece on her right wrist.

  “I am pleased to meet you,” Baldur said.

  “Your assistant said you would have matters of possible interest for me.”

  Baldur looked pointedly at the four security men. Trac nodded them out.

  Baldur sat down on one of the leather couches, very much at ease.

  “I do have something that I think you should find interesting. But begin with the fact that my partner lied. I am actually Friedrich von Baldur, head of a security firm called Star Risk, ltd. Perhaps you have heard of us.”

  There was only the tiniest jolt from Trac.

  “No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

  She moved one hand to her timepiece.

  “Please do not summon your bodyguards,” Baldur said. “I assure you, I mean no harm. At least, not at this time.”

  “All right,” Trac said. “I’ll listen … for a minute … before I have you removed.”

  “First, let me advise you I advised certain journalists of my intention to visit you, so it would not be worth your while to deal with me in any sort of a physical manner.”

  “I, sir, am a politician,” Trac said. “Not a goon such as yourself.”

  “You are also one of the conspirators heading a murderous conspiracy in the asteroid belt.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  “No, it is not,” Baldur said. “But let us not go back and forth on the issue. I came here for two reasons. First, to warn you that I am breathing very close down your, and your fellows’, necks.

  “Second, I hoped to get some idea on what you, and your fellows, are hoping to achieve by this conspiracy to ultimately defraud the government that you are temporarily not a part of.”

  “You evidently weren’t listening,” Trac hissed. “I have no idea what you are talking about, and now I demand you leave my home.”

  Baldur stood.

  “Thank you for your time.”

  “I advise you,” Trac said, “to not repeat your slanders anywhere, or you’ll be faced with the full extent of the law.”

  “Thank you for the advice,” Baldur said. “In exchange for which, I shall offer you some.

  “The Foley System, rather barbarically, retains capital punishment as a penalty for, among other things, conspiracy to commit murder and murder, not to mention high treason.

>   “You might wish to prepare for the inevitable consequences when we catch up to you.”

  “And you, Mr…. Beller,” Trac hissed, deliberately garbling Baldur’s name, “should be very careful, as I said.”

  Baldur nodded, and he and King went out, and got back in the lim.

  “That was quick,” the driver said.

  “As I thought it would be,” Baldur said. “Back the way we came, and, if you would do us a favor, please fly at a low altitude, and full drive.”

  “Sure,” the driver said. “Why?”

  “I would not want to upset you by discussing things that might make you worry.”

  “You don’t have to. My brother was in the military, on an antiaircraft unit. And there’s more than a few people on Glace who’ve somehow ended up with their own interceptors or AA weapons.

  “You want me to do a few jinks as we go?”

  The lim was already airborne.

  “That might not be a bad idea at all,” Baldur said. He turned, smiled at King.

  “What do you think of our brief encounter?”

  “I’m not sure what we accomplished, other than making Trac angry.”

  “That is enough for a starter,” Baldur said. “Anger short circuits the intellect. Also, the mere fact of being exposed to sunlight sometimes makes beetles and other loathsome insects scuttle about in an interesting manner.”

  “I wonder what Transkootenay and Reg Goodnight are going to think about what you did,” King said.

  “It shall, no doubt, be interesting,” Baldur said, leaning back. “What’s even more interesting is what we should be having for dinner this evening. Staring down at all those cattle makes me think fondly of some seared beef, perhaps in a pastry shell.”

  “I thought for a minute,” Jasmine said, “you were going to warn her about how sloppy her thugs were, not checking your cane.”

  “Now, as I have said before and will no doubt say again, in the words of an ancient Earth rogue, ‘Never smarten up a chump.’ ”

  FORTY-SIX

  Grok growled, which was his race’s way of yawning, realized he was getting stale, and his com to a friend in a division of Alliance Research wasn’t likely to be answered in the next few hours, got up from his console, went out of the airlock, arming the alarm, and nodding to one of the guards patrolling Star Risk’s compound.

  Bored, he thought he’d wander down Sheol’s main street. If a drunk miner didn’t shout an insult Grok could take offense at, there was a small diner near the end of the open district that could provide him with an excellent bowl of vegetable broth.

  Waddling importantly down the middle of the sidewalk, he was halfway to his destination without a fight in sight when the raiders slammed in.

  Grok went flat, rolled behind a lifter as they came down the street, bare meters above the ground, their cannon flashing.

  Glass shattered, steel broke, and the ground heaved as bombs cascaded down.

  The raiders came in twin vee-formations, and their target was clearly the miners’ section.

  They made a full pass, climbed, and came back, strafing this time.

  Behind them came the long-sought cruiser. Its bulk made it appear to be moving majestically, slowly, although it was moving as fast as the patrol ships.

  Its nose was suddenly wreathed in smoke as missiles flashed out. Buildings rocked at the explosions.

  The cruiser jolted as the blast rolled back into the sky, corrected, and fired another salvo of missiles.

  Grok rolled over, looking up, as the ships broke for space.

  Seconds later, two of Star Risk’s patrol craft banked overhead, as sirens howled and wounded women and men began shouting, screaming.

  Smoke, flame boiled around Grok, and there was a blast as something, somewhere, exploded.

  “A little late, my friends,” Grok said to himself. “But perhaps just as lucky for you.”

  He came to his feet, decided he could have his soup later. No doubt, if he’d survived the attack, Reg Goodnight would need someone to rave at for this latest outrage.

  Plus the rest of the team would probably like to know Murgatroyd wasn’t folding any tents, not that Grok had the slightest idea why a villain should waste his time doing something like that.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Baldur and King were finishing their meal, which Baldur had rated short of sumptuous, but still palatable.

  “Your standards on Trimalchio have spoiled you,” King said.

  “Not so,” Baldur said. “I always was a food snob, even when I was poverty stricken, and forced to live by begging. Or, worse, to eat military rations.”

  “I have a question,” King said. “It’s been three days since we met Trac. Why are we still on Glace?”

  “I’m not sure,” Baldur said. “But I have a feeling that we haven’t thoroughly explored the situation here, and there’s other things that may well happen.”

  King was about to ask more when she saw a man filtering through the crowded restaurant toward them.

  He was tall, almost emaciatedly thin, but with a broad chest and large hands. He walked with a bit of a limp, and the side of his face had clearly had major reconstructive surgery.

  King had time to kick Baldur and hiss “Trouble,” when the man was on them, holding out his hands in the universal “I come in peace” sign.

  “Good evening, Jasmine,” he said in a low, rasping voice. Evidently the surgeons hadn’t been able to do that much toward rebuilding his vocal cords. “Colonel von Baldur.”

  Baldur smiled politely. “I do not believe I have had the pleasure, sir.”

  “This,” Jasmine said, and in spite of her best efforts her voice was hard, “is Walter Nowotny. My former immediate supervisor with Cerberus Systems.”

  “Ah,” Baldur said calmly. “Would you care to join us, sir? They have an extraordinary brandy here. Aged in, strangely enough, real wooden casks formerly holding a fortified wine.”

  “I would be delighted.”

  Baldur summoned a waiter, ordered.

  “So how do you like your new career?” Nowotny asked Jasmine.

  “Fine,” King answered shortly.

  “It is, of course, due to you that I have a promotion and a new field assignment,” Nowotny said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Jasmine, can’t we just agree that you and I have differing personalities, and that we should be able to get along as fellow professionals?”

  “I don’t think so,” King said. “You are a proper rat bastard, and I have no intention of ever relaxing around you.”

  “Tsk,” Nowotny said. He sipped his brandy.

  “You are right, Colonel. This is an exquisite brandy, although my tastebuds aren’t what they should be.”

  “Nowotny,” Jasmine said, “happened to get shot in the face by one of his agents after he told him Cerberus was abandoning him to the government they’d hired him to betray. As for the limp, he never told me what double-cross that came from.”

  Nowotny shrugged. “I didn’t predict the man’s propensity for violence, and paid for my omission. It is,” and his voice rasped even more, “a mistake I’ve not repeated.”

  “Since your presence seems to be disturbing my colleague,” Baldur said, “might I suggest you go directly to whatever business you came here for? I don’t mean to be rude, but Miss King’s digestion is a bit more important to me than courtliness.”

  “I can do that,” Nowotny said. “I’ll be brief. When Transkootenay hired you, there was a great deal of laughter at Cerberus. We felt you … meaning Star Risk … had taken on too big an assignment due to your straitened circumstances.

  “We were surprised when you made a bravura effort, and have performed far better than anyone could expect.

  “However, circumstances have gotten much more serious, and matters are larger than I think you and your colleagues are able to deal with.”

  “Oh?” Baldur said noncommittally.

  “There is an e
normous amount to be gained here in the Foley System, not only by its natives, but by other people and companies as well.”

  “Cerberus being one, of course,” Baldur said.

  “Of course,” Nowotny said.

  “So you are behind the raiders?”

  “Great gods, no!” Nowotny seemed honestly shocked. “Such is not at all the way that Cerberus does business. But I will admit that Cerberus has a certain interest in events that will most likely transpire in the future.”

  “You are employed by Mar Trac and her schemers?”

  Nowotny lifted an eyebrow. “I’m slightly aware of Trac’s existence, but no more. Not at the moment, anyway.”

  “I am not sure whether I believe you. But continue with your proposal, assuming you have one.”

  “Very well,” Nowotny said. “I’ll get to specifics. I think Star Risk has been fairly well compensated to date. You now have several millions comfortably in various accounts.”

  Baldur didn’t respond.

  “You could, if you chose, withdraw from the Foley System on one pretext or another, without losing the slightest amount of face among the other small companies whom you compete with. Especially since Transkootenay is not entirely pleased with your performance. Correct?”

  “I will not argue with that,” Baldur conceded.

  “The question is, can Cerberus entice you to do just that, before the situation becomes serious, and you and your personnel will face real danger?”

  King started to say something, caught herself.

  “Cerberus proposes to sweeten the pot,” Nowotny said. “We will double your existing bank balance, and pay off any expenses you may incur pulling out.”

  “That is a handsome offer,” Baldur said.

  “I would assume you could convince your colleagues to accept it,” Nowotny said, smiling.

  “They might,” Baldur said. “But I shall not present it to them. We were hired for a job, and we shall perform it until it is complete, or we are discharged by our client.”

  “That’s not the most sensible decision you could have reached,” Nowotny said.

  “Probably not,” Baldur said. “But it is the only one that shall be made.”