Heart of a Peacekeeper

by Angela Verdenius

  "No worries."

  "And if there's a problem, contact me.” She scowled. “I'll bust a few heads if they're going to insist on being jerks."

  "No worries,” Raf repeated.

  Nodding, she walked out to the docking bay and got into her single-seater pilot vehicle. Cruising down the main street of the settlement, she saw that the taverns were full. Figures moved in the shadows. The outlaws were back on the streets, both the two-bits and the harder ones, not to mention the usual rabble mixed with the simpler settlers.

  Walking into her home was a huge relief. Greeting the lycats, she fed them, had her usual shower and then pouring herself a drink, she did as she'd done for the last two nights and switched on the viscomm on the wall above the kitchen bench, keying in the link directly to Simon's trading spaceship.

  His face appeared almost instantly, a smile of delight curving his masculine lips at the sight of her. “Lass!"

  "Hey, loverboy,” she purred. “Miss me still?"

  "I've had a hard-on since I left."

  "Charming,” a deep voice said from the background.

  Startled, Des blinked. “Who the hell is that?"

  Simon glanced over his shoulder. “Shamon, go and take a walk. A very long walk."

  "It was just getting interesting!"

  "You tell your friend,” Des said, “That if he doesn't shift his arse, I'll bust it for him when you all get back."

  Laughing, Simon turned back to the screen. “He's left. You scared him."

  She sighed. “What was just said is going to be repeated to your crew, isn't it?"

  "'Fraid so, lass. ‘Tis another thing for them to torment me with.” Propping his chin on one big hand, Simon said, “I've really missed you."

  "Same.” She cleared her throat. “Only I'm not too good at this sloppy stuff."

  His eyes twinkled. “I am."

  "Practice makes perfect?"

  "Des! How could you think such a thing?"

  "You're a horny Daamen trader. What am I supposed to think?"

  "I'm your horny trader now."

  "How romantic.” She couldn't help but laugh, feeling a little of her discomfort easing away. “So, how goes the trading?"

  "Busy. The only free time we have is when we're flying. We're actually only about eight hours flight from you."

  "What? How did you work that out?"

  "We had to do a roundabout trip. One of the merchants on the next planet to you ‘twasn't able to meet us until today."

  "That would have been annoying."

  "'Tis all right. We calculated that in our trip before we even started.” His expression remained affectionate, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “Is everything okay? I couldn't get through to you this morn. Some interference in the communications system?"

  "There has been a bit of trouble, but we seem to be the only settlement affected. Yucel is trying figure out what is happening. There's a technician team checking the communications system in the area. Apart from that, same old, same old.” She shrugged. “A brawl here, a robbery there. The usual."

  "But ‘tis been so quiet."

  "Because of the bounty hunters and military. With them gone, well, the trouble makers are coming above ground again.” She grinned, seeing the concern deepening in his eyes. “Makes life interesting."

  "Des, I worry about you."

  "Simon, I'm fine."

  "If something happens—"

  "Like you being attacked by a large group of pirates?"

  "Less likely than you ending up hurt."

  "It's a part of the job, Simon. We both run risks, you know that.” Sobering, she looked at him. “Is this a problem?"

  He sighed. “Nay, nay, ‘tisn't. ‘Tis just not something I'm used to in my culture."

  "And I'm not used to having anyone—apart from my father—so worried about me."

  "We have a lot of adjusting to do."

  "You think we'll make it?"

  His eyes warmed. “Lass, we're doing it right now."

  She smiled back at him.

  "Oh, by the way. I've heard from my sources about those two names you asked me to run."

  "And?"

  "Ruan is the name of an outlaw, and he runs quite a pack of murderers."

  "Really."

  "And this Canu bloke, there's no one by that name. There is, however, someone by the name of Canute. He's a bit of a mystery. Intelligent, apparently, but cold-blooded. He strikes when things are least expected."

  "Really.” Des stared thoughtfully out into the garden. “Ruan and Canute. Possible. But why would they be connected to anything happening here? Especially if, being such hardened outlaws, they're doing a possible strike on the outskirts of the Outlaw Sector."

  "I don't know, but Des, promise me you'll take care."

  She flashed him a smile. “Of course. After all, anything happens to me, you get Chels and Fuzz."

  "Don't even joke about it.” Simon's eyes were serious.

  She shook her head. “It's a possibility at any time, Simon, you know that. But I need to know that if anything happens—"

  "I'll take the lycats,” Simon sighed. “You showed me the secret tunnel under the house where they'd be if something happens."

  "If I have time."

  Simon's face paled a little.

  "I'm just being practical, Simon."

  "Stars, I think I'm getting an ulcer."

  Des laughed.

  "'Tis no laughing matter, Des!"

  "Relax, trader. Who'd come after the feared and loathed Demon anyway?"

  "I would."

  "For sex."

  "You've a problem with that?"

  "Not at all."

  After a few more minutes chatting, Des and Simon broke off the communications link. But Des wasn't finished. Keying in several commands, she brought up any data she had on Ruan and Canute.

  There was nothing.

  Whoever Simon's sources were, they knew more than the law did. But there was one other lot who might be able to help her find out something more concrete ... one lot with a link to one of the least understood units in the Lawful Sector.

  Linking onto a little known private band, Des waited several minutes until a hard-eyed bounty hunter with a Mohawk appeared on the viscomm. His face showed no surprise, and his greeting was terse. “Peacekeeper."

  "Get that stick out of your arse, Abra, and stop being so uptight around me."

  "You're a peacekeeper."

  "Damn, you're right. When did that happen?"

  A reluctant grin tugged at his tight lips. “What do you want?"

  "I'll tell Dad you're being mean to me."

  "Creed would say it was about time."

  "You're charming bloody attitude hasn't changed, has it?"

  His grin widened a little.

  "I need to speak to Sabra,” Des said.

  His eyes flickered. “Why?"

  "Personal business."

  "The girl is somewhere doing something. What makes you think I can contact her?"

  "Don't fart around, Abra. I know you can contact her. I need to speak to her."

  "You presume a lot. If the Daamens can't get to her when she's on Security business, what makes you think I can ... Demon?"

  Impatience flared through Des. “I'll personally come and tie you in knots if you don't let her know I need to speak to her. You can contact her. I know it, you know it. Get a message to her to get back to me as soon as possible."

  He raised one brow. “I have no idea what you're talking about. Sabra is unreachable."

  "Listen, you arrogant prick, this is not a bloody tea party I'm inviting you to. I'm telling you to get a message to Sabra now. Got that?"

  Abra looked coolly at her, leaned forward and cut communications.

  "Shit!” Cursing, Des tried to re-link but was denied access. “You bastard, Abra!"

  Swearing, she grabbed her drink and flopped down onto the sofa. Being the daughter of a bounty hunter made the hunting p
acks tolerate her, but being a peacekeeper put her at slight odds with the hunters as well. Being her normal bad-tempered self bought her their respect, but there were times when that line between hunter and peacekeeper was drawn.

  She'd obviously met that line.

  "Bastard,” she muttered again.

  Leaning her head back against the back of the sofa, Des stared out into the dark garden. Unease niggled at her. Was it too much of a coincidence, Ruan and possibly this Canute being mentioned by a prisoner before he was so nicely blown apart? An intelligent but mysterious outlaw, a mystery ship faster than anything she'd ever seen, a box of unknown origins, the vicious murders and obvious attempt to make it look like it was far-spread, the attempt being bungled by a stuff-up of not following the usual pattern.

  Communications and radar failing. Being attacked by an outlaw squad.

  "Don't kill the Demon!" The exclamation came back to her. Why not kill me? What would it really matter? Here I am, coming down a hill in plain view, shooting and killing outlaws, but they don't want me dead. Any normal outlaw gang would have killed me and simply taken part of me as a trophy or something. Or left me. Why the order not to kill me?

  Sipping from the glass, Des idly ruffled Chels's fur.

  There were too many coincidences.

  "Something's going to happen, Chels,” she murmured quietly.

  A beeping sound from the viscomm brought her to her feet. Moving around the bench, she found herself looking at the calm face of a brown-haired woman with a thick strip of blonde hair on the left side. Her cobalt blue eyes were unreadable.

  "Desdemona,” she said.

  "Sabra.” Des nodded, not bothering with idle chit-chat. “I need information."

  "So I hear."

  "So why haven't you got back to me?"

  "Business."

  Knowing Sabra from her hunting days, Des and she had had a friendship of sorts. Both from different backgrounds, both women in a man's harsh worlds. Friendship and respect, but not a normal friendship. It was just one of those unexplainable things that neither bothered to look at too closely.

  "I need information on two names,” Des stated. “Ruan and Canute."

  Taking a bite from an apricot, Sabra chewed while she thought for a few seconds. “Ruan. Leader of a vicious outlaw gang, and he doesn't often venture out to the outskirts of the Outlaw Sector. Canute, an outlaw with aspirations no one is sure he can meet. Charismatic, he rules with a fist of iron. Not above killing his own to get what he wants."

  "Would either of them have any need to be around my settlement area?"

  "Not that I'd know of, but ‘tis not saying nay."

  "Great."

  Sabra studied her intently. “You've had some trouble."

  "And no doubt I don't need to tell you what it is."

  "Tell me."

  "You already know. The bloody Security always knows."

  "Tell me anyway."

  Briefly Des relayed what had happened, and Sabra's expression didn't change.

  When Des finished, Sabra nodded. “'Tis what I've heard."

  "No crap?"

  A brief smile flickered on Sabra's lips. “No crap."

  "So, can you help me with anything?"

  "Probably not."

  "Bloody charming."

  "But you knew that already."

  Des nodded, not at all surprised. “So tell me what you can."

  "The mystery box you gave to the military is a geological scanner equipped to pick up elements of some kind."

  "What elements, exactly?"

  "Some kind of energy, but what exactly hasn't been discovered."

  "So how did you come by this info?"

  Sabra just smiled.

  "Stupid question.” Again Des stared thoughtfully out into the garden. “So why was it in that trade warehouse? How did it make it collapse?"

  "Did the warehouse collapse because of it?” Sabra rubbed an apple on her shirt front and bit into it. “Or because the warehouse was a wreck anyway?"

  "Who knows? Sol stole it somehow from the Enforcer Building and hid it in his other warehouse. Simon says the warehouse was an accident waiting to happen, and he wasn't surprised that it had collapsed."

  "And then Sol blew the hell up and you lost your answers."

  "News travels fast."

  A twinkle appeared in Sabra's eyes. “It just annoys the hell out of you when I know more, doesn't it?"

  Des pounced on the words immediately. “You know more?"

  "Mayhaps. Or not."

  "Bloody Security. You were always closed-mouthed, Sabra."

  "So were you. And bad-tempered."

  "Nothing's changed."

  "Glad to see it.” Sabra eyed her closely, but again, nothing she thought was revealed in her expression. “Anything else?"

  "Just want to pick your brains a bit longer, run a few things by you."

  "Go for it."

  "If Canute and Ruan are after something in this section of the Outlaw Sector, what would it be?"

  "'Tis the main question. I don't know. But I would bet it has something to do with the geological scanner. Which, by the way, is nothing like any scanner ever seen."

  "Is it made by the normal companies?"

  "No."

  "So these two outlaws could be scanning for something. What? And what does it have to do with the mystery ship?"

  Sabra shrugged.

  "And my settlement?"

  "Are you so sure ‘tis your settlement?"

  "No. I'm just wondering because the box was here."

  "Sol could have been in the act of transporting it elsewhere."

  "There's nothing in his files to say so."

  "'Twouldn't be."

  "Is there anything at else you can tell me? The mystery ship?"

  "Nay."

  "The breakdown of my communications and scanners?"

  Sabra's expression became more serious. “'Tis a worry. Have you double-checked everything?"

  "Technicians are out there now, checking for problems."

  "You've had a few problems recently, ‘tis why your peacekeeper lost you on the scanners."

  "It got a bit hairy there. Yeah, the scanners and communications went out. We're having a few problems now and again, but we're on the air now with no problems, so the technicians must have fixed things."

  "Get a report from them, study it well.” Cobalt blue eyes sharpened. “Or you could have trouble closer to home."

  "One of my men? I've thought of that, but the electronics showed some interference from possibly outside. Whether it was by hand or other equipment, we don't know. But considering there was no evidence found that it was tampered with on the premises, outside influence is the most logical direction for me to look at."

  "Hack-proof the equipment is supposed to be, but not impossible...” Voice trailing off, Sabra looked away from the viscomm for a few seconds, before murmuring, “Jamming devices...” She bit into a grape.

  Patiently Des waited for Sabra to think through whatever she was pondering, but when Sabra finally returned her gaze to her, the only thing she said was, “I'll look into it."

  Knowing she had to be content with that, Des nodded. “If you hear anything more, let me know."

  "Mmmm.” Sabra smiled. “So, I hear you and Simon are having it off."

  "Wouldn't you like to know?"

  "Oh, I know.” The smile turned into a full-on grin. “I know."

  "Let me guess. You heard from the traders."

  "You'd be surprised who I hear things from."

  Des had no doubt that Sabra had contacts she could only dream about. “If you're simply going to smirk, we're finished."

  Sabra laughed. “I have to go anyway. You take care."

  The communication link stopped and Des sipped slowly from the glass. So the box was a geological scanner of some kind, but what was it scanning? Something from her settlement? Something outside? Was that what the outlaw fighters and the mystery ship were doing when t
he peacekeepers had stumbled across them and got attacked?

  It just might be worth another fly-over that area at night. But first, she wanted to know what the technicians had come up with in their investigations of the communication failures earlier. They'd obviously fixed the problem otherwise she wouldn't have been able to contact Simon and Sabra.

  Mind buzzing with possibilities, Des was about to contact Raf at the Enforcer Building, but changed her mind. She wanted to talk to the technicians herself, as well as have another walk around the old warehouse site, just once more, in case she'd missed anything. Who knew, maybe the shadows of the night and lights might help her notice something not visible in the daylight.

  And she felt like a fly-over of the attack area.

  Changing clothes back into her peacekeeper's uniform, she patted the lycats and headed outside. A prickle went down her spine as she looked out at the darkness beyond. Something was making her uneasy, her gut feeling that something was wrong.

  Creed had taught her to trust those gut feelings.

  Going back inside, she pushed the sofa aside and kicked the rug aside. Placing her hand on the floor, she waited for an internal scanner beneath to register her handprint, and once it slid open, she went down to check the food and water supply. Fresh air came from filtered pipes.

  Plenty of dried food and waters in the big bowls. The place was clean and tidy, an old sofa and armchair against the stone walls. Plants that only grew under the ground made a small garden of sorts in another corner. They provided on-going oxygen as well.

  Creed had talked her into building an underground shelter in case anything happened, and she'd had cause many times to be glad of it. Knowing her lycats were safe if her home was destroyed was a comfort, as was the fact that when she closed the door in the floor above, a signal would be sent to Creed's ship that she'd had cause to use the shelter. If anything happened to her and she didn't contact him, he'd know the lycats were in the shelter and come for them.

  The signal was also sent to a couple of other packs her father considered close friends. Just in case anything happened to him. All bases covered, just as he'd taught her.

  If no one heard from them within twenty four hours, someone would come for her lycats.

  Of course, the shelter was supposed to be for her in time of danger as well, but being the Head Peacekeeper meant she had to be in the middle of the danger. Des laughed softly.