Slave Trade

by Craig Martelle

  Micky considered himself to be old-school. He liked being on the bridge, mounted above the superstructure, using his eyes to see his enemy yet trusting his systems, along with the ship’s AI, to do the right things.

  “He’s been watching too many old movies. I swear, he’s seen them all before, but watching them fresh after a hundred and fifty years makes him act weird.”

  “You pronounced ‘young at heart’ wrong,” Terry interjected.

  “Of course. That’s what I meant.” Charumati, his werewolf partner, rolled her eyes and shook her head but snaked an arm around his waist. He reciprocated, and the two stood there as one, each a perfect balance to the other.

  “Are we going to have to destroy it?” Terry asked earnestly.

  “Standby, Colonel Walton,” General Smedley Butler, the AI, relayed over the bridge’s speakers.

  Terry looked at the captain, but he didn’t know.

  “Prepare to fire the main guns at these coordinates.” Smedley projected the tactical situation on the main screen. The last two Skaine ships in the small convoy were closing on each other as they raced to escape the War Axe’s interdiction. A blinking light appeared at a point in between the converging tracks.

  “Why are they coming together? Shouldn’t they be going in opposite directions?” Terry asked.

  “If they weren’t trying to consolidate their firepower for a single strike, maybe. But they’re Skaines. Forget everything you know about tactics. Whereas we would go separate directions to give one of the two a chance at survival,” Smedley explained, “the Skaines don’t trust each other. Risking themselves to save their fellows defies logic. We’re going to use it against them. Fire the mains and launch the missile.”

  The massive guns sent a dual stream of superheated plasma at near-light speed while a single missile ejected from a launch tube and fired downrange at a seemingly casual pace compared to the plasma.

  “I love the sight of that,” Terry said, twisting his head to see past the main screen image to the screen showing the exterior view. Like a stream of fire, the plasma painted a line into the void.

  “Wait for it,” Smedley offered with panache.

  “Better get your people ready, TH. Prepare to board the Skaine vessels.”

  “Roger that, Skipper. We’ve been cooling our heels too long, watching others fight and then cleaning up the mess they leave behind. It’s time to kick some scumbag ass.” Terry and Char hurried from the bridge.

  “It’s admirable when people love their jobs,” the captain said to no one in particular.

  “Bullseye!” Smedley exclaimed. The stream of plasma projectiles scorched both ships as they closed and jockeyed in an attempt to maneuver the other ship into the line of fire. The missile detonated, sending a targeted electromagnetic pulse over both ships.

  Systems failed, and the ships floated on ballistic trajectories.

  “Get in front of those ships and secure them. Bring the cutter into the hangar bay. Secure the other outside the gravitic shields.” Micky leaned back in his chair, a smile slowly creeping across his face. “Nice shooting, Smedley. All hands, this is the captain. We’re bringing the Skaines aboard. Watch those evil little bastards. Secure first and ask questions later.”

  The Royal City of Khn’Chik on Yoll

  Grainger glared across the table at the big blue head. He wasn’t much taller than a child, and looked like one sitting in an interrogation chair made for a two-legged Yollin. Grainger felt small in the chair, but at least his feet touched the floor. The Skaine’s legs were shackled and hooked to the immovable chair, and his wrists were clamped to the table. He looked contorted and uncomfortable.

  And also hostile.

  “I don’t know why we’re here. You’re guilty, and we’re sending you and your buddy into the nearest star.”

  “The Etheric Federation...” the Skaine spat. “Murdering honest citizens. So much for your talk of freedom.”

  “Interesting.” Grainger leaned his elbows on the table. The blue creature yanked on his chains, but the effort was weak. Physical intimidation wasn’t the small alien’s strong suit. The Magistrate didn’t even flinch. “Information could buy you a reprieve from your death sentence.”

  “You want me to be like you? Mistrustful and dishonest?” The Skaine peered at the human before continuing, “I’d rather die with my dignity intact.”

  Grainger laughed to the point of shaking. His eyes watered, and when he was finally able to talk, he stammered, “I thought you were Skaine. You’d sell your own sister for a credit. You’d sell out your whole race for ten.”

  The creature yanked on his chains again, then slumped from overexertion.

  “Tell me about the slave trade. I need the names of your suppliers. Who acquired the sentient capital in which you traded?”

  “We don’t trade in sentient beings. That would be illegal.” The smirk on the Skaine’s face suggested he thought he was funny.

  “As you wish,” Grainger said. “I, Magistrate Grainger, sentence you to death. Your sentence will be carried out later today when you and your twin brother are loaded into an obsolete torpedo and fired into the system’s star. The good news is that most don’t survive the trip. You’ll be dead well before your body is burned to a crisp. I don’t know who you’re willing to die to protect, but that is the only thing that matters that I’ve gotten from our conversation.”

  Grainger stood, turned, and opened the door. He took one step through.

  “Wait,” the Skaine said.

  “Ten seconds,” Grainger growled, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

  “The others were running the operation.”

  “Death it is,” Grainger said and closed the door. The Skaine’s incoherent screams beat against the inside of the door.

  The Magistrate pointed to the next door, and a guard opened it. The Skaine in this room still had a twitch from being stunned into unconsciousness. He’d received enough juice to light a small city. Grainger was surprised he was still alive.

  “That dumbass across the hall said you and the others were running the operation.”

  “It’s our way,” the Skaine said in a small and tired voice, conceding while admitting nothing.

  “You know what the punishment is for the crime of slave trading.”

  “I know, but we don’t care about your Federation laws. They have no bearing on what we do.”

  Grainger smiled, steepling his fingers before him. “But they do. The rest of your life will be spent under the burden of punishment for violation of the very laws that you flout.”

  “Center of the target, Magistrate. My compliments,” the Skaine replied before his eye started to twitch anew.

  “You’re different from any other Skaine I’ve had the displeasure of speaking with.”

  “I’ve been around Federation limp dicks for too long. Your flaccidity rubs off, most unfortunately.”

  “Arrogance and name-calling couched within a subtle truth. You’re playing chess while the others are playing kick the can.” Grainger leaned back and reshaped his approach. “What do you offer in exchange for your life?”

  “Never bid against yourself,” the Skaine replied. “What do you want, and what are you willing to offer for it?”

  “I want your suppliers, the ones who provided the sentient life forms you then put on the Corranite auction block.”

  “A shame that you presume my complicity in such a heinous crime.”

  “Offering you a life of imprisonment instead of joining scrotum-head across the hall on a one-way trip into Yoll’s chromosphere is probably less than enticing. How about your freedom, as in, we ship your ass back to Skaine space?”

  “There might be value in that, if I wanted to be a pariah. That’s not how I want to spend my future, unless I have a ship with a crew. Then we can fly into space and leave judgment behind.”

  “There will be no ship and no crew.” Grainger began to wonder why he bothered attempting to in
terrogate Skaine suspects. “What are those other three to you? Your cells usually have four, so we found four. I would think there’d be a connection to hold you together. Why is that guy willing to die before giving up any information? That is not very Skaine-like.”

  “I try not to waste brain cells on what the others will or won’t do, but I’ll play. Those three are brothers, or were. You reference just one. What happened to the other two?”

  “One died an ugly death after taking potshots at us with a railgun. The other died an ugly death after barricading himself inside that industrial-strength panic room. Only you two survived to receive your death sentences.”

  “One brave Skaine and one coward. I expected as much. How did you capture the other? What is his name?”

  “I don’t know his name. I called him ‘Hey!’ or ‘fuckstick.’” Grainger chewed the inside of his lip as he contemplated where they were in the game. Pawns out, no bold moves. “He was incapable of adjusting his aim quickly enough from the drone to the Yollins who were after him. He killed the drone with one shot, but then the tac team was on him and took his weapon. It was then used to penetrate the panic room’s barrier.”

  “A railgun should not have been able to defeat the armor plate.”

  “Didn’t have to. There were gaps between the seams.”

  “The welding was substandard. Shame.” The Skaine looked like he wanted to continue but stopped.

  Grainger waited, letting the silence create the discomfort that a usual suspect would then seek to fill. But this Skaine wasn’t a usual suspect. He sat silently, not fighting his shackles or cuffs.

  “I doubt you have anything we want. Besides freedom without strings, I am not willing to give you anything else. Even that may be too much. If you’ll excuse me, I have to be anywhere other than here.”

  Grainger made to stand, and already the Skaine was smiling. “You need me, and you know it.”

  “I’m pretty sure I don’t,” Grainger smiled back. “You have a great day. It’s your last one.”

  “Vaidyn,” the Skaine said softly but clearly.

  “Who would that be?” Grainger stood at the door, leaning against it rather than opening it. He crossed his arms and watched the perp for other clues that might tell him what he was thinking.

  “The one you’re looking for. If you could undo these, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Once verified, we’ll conduct a formal transfer to someplace that’s not here and less susceptible to your machinations.”

  “A moon on the far side of Hades?”

  “Something like that. Your sentence is currently in a stay, pending further review. Let me check on this Vaidyn and see what comes up.”

  Amberly on Corran

  “I think we should explore the riverwalk,” Palatius said. Rivka held up her hands. The Corranite pointed.

  “That’s more like it. Thank you,” she told him, but he only grunted in response. She didn’t expect to convert him through common decency and good manners. Her goal was to retain her own humanity in spite of alien miscreants like Palatius Lore, because there were good ones like Ignacio Mar who deserved to be treated with dignity and respect.

  Rivka set a blistering pace, taxing her nanocytes to give her all they had. She wanted Palatius to suffer by trying to keep up. When she looked back, he was nowhere to be seen. She snorted and continued to sprint in the direction the Corranite had pointed. She could see bridges and expected they crossed the as-yet-unseen river.

  The climate was controlled, which made it pleasant all the time, but a human would seek shelter. Rivka wondered if Seequa knew what planet she was on. The Magistrate slowed when a walking trail appeared beyond a wall of hedges. She vaulted the well-manicured greenery and looked up and down the path, again trying to figure where a distraught human with no credits and no ID would go.

  A hum made her look up. An aerovan was descending. It hovered next to the trail, and the door popped open. “Work smarter, not harder,” Palatius Lore told her, beckoning her to join him.

  She climbed in without comment, plastering her face against the window so she could see the various personalities walking the trail. Most of them were Corranites. Rivka knocked on the window to get their attention and Palatius grabbed her wrist. She turned on him, ready to strike, but his thoughts were focused on helping to find the woman.

  “Attention,” he said, and the pair stopped to face the vehicle. “Have you seen a human on this trail wearing servant garb?”

  They both pointed down the trail. The aerovan lifted off and followed the walk, slowing as it approached a bridge. It hovered on one side so they could look, but no one was underneath or in the shadows. The aerovan went over the bridge and continued to the next one.

  Rivka sighed in relief as she saw the human’s outline, but something didn’t look right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Royal City of Khn’Chik on Yoll

  High Chancellor Wyatt looked out of place. It wasn’t the nicest part of town, and the people milled about, casting furtive glances his way. Grainger stood easily at his side, basking in the radiance of the older man’s presence.

  “I’m glad you had nothing to do with the trade,” Grainger told him softly.

  “Slavers disgust me much more than murderers. They steal someone’s life over and over. Every day that person remains the property of another is another day of torment. Are they worth that much? The answer is yes, because there are those like the Skaines who readily sell any other race. I’m forwarding a proposition making trading with the Skaines illegal. Making any arrangements with the Skaines illegal. Making it illegal to be Skaine.”

  “Do you think it’ll fly?” Grainger replied skeptically.

  “No, but we need to put them on notice. They are the galaxy’s criminals. If you see a Skaine, you can guarantee that he’s up to no good.”

  “What are we doing down here?” Grainger asked.

  “Vaidyn.” The High Chancellor stood patiently to the side of the thoroughfare. “There’s a link down here, although the individual associated with that name isn’t. It’s a bizarre corkscrew of associations. We need to talk to one Malagor Beauregard.”

  Grainger stifled a laugh. “There’s a dude named Malagor Beauregard who lives on Yoll?”

  “Dudette, as it turns out. She’s from a race of amorphous creatures.”

  “And she has information that could lead us to Vaidyn?” Grainger asked.

  “That is my hope. She’s associated with both Yollins and Skaines, if our search through the dark web carries any weight.”

  “This is where Rivka has an advantage by having Ankh on her team.”

  “He has been an incredible asset. Where do you think I got this information?”

  “From your people?” Grainger asked naively. “You’re the High Chancellor. You have to have people sitting around, ready to do your bidding. You know, people…”

  Grainger’s voice trailed off when he saw the bemused look on the High Chancellor’s face.

  “Zai’den. He’s the only people I have. Well, you Magistrates and some others, but you’re doing your own jobs. I’ll let you in on a little secret. I answer to more people than those who answer to me.”

  “Ain’t that some shit?” Grainger blurted.

  “It is. Shall we?” The High Chancellor didn’t wait for an answer. He started walking toward a small shop. He strode with the dignity and authority of his office, clearing the casual passersby from his path. He didn’t have to say anything.

  He commanded Grainger’s respect. There was no end to thankless jobs.

  “I appreciate what you do, High Chancellor, and I thank you for taking care of the other Magistrates and me.”

  Wyatt acknowledged the statement with a nod.

  “Are you going to give Rivka a bigger ship?”

  “Ship envy, Magistrate?” The High Chancellor chuckled briefly before restoring his game face.

  They stepped through the door into the shop. Wyatt looked
around before maneuvering his way through the crowded aisles. He squeezed past the counter, nodding his chin toward the Yollin near the payment desk.

  “You can’t go back there. Staff only,” the clerk stated as if he’d said the same phrase a thousand times. Wyatt and Grainger ignored him. The Yollin made no other attempt to stop them.

  “Miss Beauregard, I presume?” the High Chancellor said pleasantly. He stopped before a squarish plastic couch upon which a blob-like creature undulated, shimmering in the light from the room’s glowing panels. “I think you know who I am and why I’m here.”

  “I care not for the affairs of humans,” a female voice announced through a translation device on a small table beside the couch.

  “But trafficking them is okay?”

  “Illegal. No do.”

  “The Skaines, Miss Beauregard. You should have known that no good could come from an association with Skaines.”

  “No association,” the creature countered. The undulations rippled more quickly across the pale silvery surface of the amorphous blob. The creature started to shift and solidify and assumed the shape of a small humanoid, skinny body topped by an oversized head.

  Grainger studied the creature, stepping to the side as it made its transition. Wyatt caught his arm before he moved too far away.

  “Now go. Shop to run.” The creature assumed a smooth gait as she headed for the room’s lone door. Wyatt and Grainger stood in the way.

  “I’m sorry. We didn’t bring security personnel since we have no intention of apprehending you. I only want answers regarding Vaidyn. Where do we find him?”

  “No idea.”

  “Maybe we will have to take you into custody then. You do know. We know you know, and now you know that we know it.”

  Grainger raised one eyebrow at the High Chancellor’s quip.

  The creature surged forward, trying to squeeze between the two men. Grainger swung an arm block, but it hit as if entering gel. He stopped with his arm embedded in what passed for the creature’s upper torso and struggled to pull it free.