The old lady leaned both hands on her cane before speaking, “The rumors were true. There is a pirate crew staying on Crorix.”
Gunn frowned, “I wonder what the pirates are doing here? Besides kidnapping young women?”
Uta glared at Gunn, “I don’t know, boy. Why don’t you ask them when you meet them? I’m sure they would love to divulge their every little illegal activity to some stranger. All because you asked.”
Gunn lowered his eyes and pressed his lips together to stifle the smart ass response he had in his mind.
Morgan snapped the power plant back into the rifle and slung it over his shoulder, “So we have an invitation?”
“Yes, the Cargo Master has agreed to meet with you.”
“Did they say anything about Cadee?” inquired Blayne as he jingled the pouch of credits in his hand. Finally! A step forward toward finding his sister. He felt like he was spinning his wheels in place. It was taking too long to get anything done, he mused. This sneaking around, trying to avoid detection, it all took too long.
The old lady shook her head, “I didn’t mention her. So far no one knows the Princess of Dunadd is missing. I thought you may want to keep it that way. If Kessen was to find out, he has the resources to find her faster than we do.”
“That’s good thinking, thank you,” Blayne nodded his appreciation to the retired Knight. “When is the meet?”
“In two hours, at a warehouse loading dock. Here’s the location,” she said and handed him a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it.
Blayne turned it over to read, “Foye District, Level 12, Dock 53.” Looking up at her in confusion, he asked, “Where the hell is that?”
Laughing, she answered, “Don’t worry, I’ll send a guide with you. Those lower levels can confuse visitors.” Uta gestured to a young teenage girl who smoothly glided into the room. “Kreta here is one of my best Doves, she will get you where you need to go.”
Blayne, still confused, asked, “Doves?”
Gesturing to the slender girl in a hood Uta said, ” The Doves are my intelligence network, little birds that flit around the city and report on interesting tidbits of information. They are the ones who tell me of new arrivals from Dunadd, and also they are the ones who sneak Dunadds off-planet.”
Morgan interrupted and pointed at the young woman in the door, “They do that? These young women?”
Uta smiled proudly, “Yup, young women are the perfect cover. No one suspects a young woman walking the streets here to be a spy, or railroader. They have the perfect cover, everyone underestimates them.”
Morgan nodded his head in appreciation to Uta, “You have my respects, Ma’am. It is innovative.”
Uta pulled her head back in surprise and asked, “I didn’t have your respect before?”
“Um… no… I mean… yes…” Morgan stammered in confusion.
The old lady cackled in delight, “It is OK, Sir Knight. I’m teasing you. I’ve played this role of a crazy lady for so many years it becomes habit. No one suspects an old bat to be the conductor of a railroad for refugees and a secret information network.” Clicking her cane on the floor, “Speaking of information network, Kreta just delivered an interesting rumor on where the black market could be. But there is a problem.”
Blayne, concerned, asked, “What problem? It’s not like we have enough as it is.”
“The market time is also set in two hours.”
“Well, that’s not going to work. We can’t be in two places at once,” Blayne grumbled.
“Actually, your Highne… Blayne, “ Morgan interrupted. “We can. We split up.”
Gunn held up his hand for attention, “Um… I may not be a Knight, but that doesn’t sound like a strategically good idea.”
“That’s because it’s not. But we don’t have a choice. The second a pirate sees me, they may shoot first and not bother to ask questions later.” Morgan stated flatly. He flung his rifle over his shoulder, adjusted the large knife on his leg then gestured for Blayne’s pistol. “And there’s no way they will let you go in there armed. Give me your stuff, both of you.”
“You are going to the market? Alone?” asked Blayne, unstrapping his holster and tossing it across the room to Morgan's outstretched hand.
“I’m going to the market, but not alone. Uta will accompany me, won't you?” he asked, giving a small bow to Uta.
Taken back in surprise, the old lady showed a quick mind for her age, catching onto Morgan’s plan before the youngsters. “Ah, I see. Hiding behind a woman’s skirt, an age-old tactic.”
Gunn looked back and forth confused, “Would someone please let me in on the plan? I’m lost.”
Morgan chuckled at Gunn and explained, “If I tried to walk into the black market by myself, I would not get a foot inside the door. But if I was simply the hired bodyguard of a well established and respected leader of the community, like Uta here, they will dismiss me before I am even noticed.”
Gunn open his mouth to object, then closed it silently when the plan clicked in his mind.
Blayne walked over to Kreta and asked, “Are you sure you can get us into the meeting? We won’t have time for a second chance at this.”
The young Dove snorted, “Don’t worry about that, you worry about keeping up.”
Gunn stood and held a finger up, “Hold up, wait a minute. Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea? Blayne and I go meet with pirates, with a teenage girl? No offense, Kreta.”
Kreta’s arm whipped out of her cloak in a blur, followed by the loud thunk of a knife embedding itself in the wall two inches from Gunn’s face. “No offense taken.”
Without moving his head, Gunn slid his eyes sideways to stare at the knife handle shaking back and forth next to his face and stammered, “Um… OK. We’re good.”
“Now if you two boys would follow me, I will get you to your meeting. It will take a bit of time to get there so we need to get started,” Kreta said before walking in front of a still stunned Gunn and yanked her knife out of the wall. With a smirk at Gunn’s open mouth she left the room with a swish of her cloak.
Blayne looked at Morgan with a smirk and a jerk of his head in Kreta’s direction. Morgan gave a little laugh, “Try not to slow the lady down, lads,” He tapped his wristcom, “I will keep in touch and let you know if I find Cadee. Speaking of which,” he made a ‘give me’ motion with his hands, “The credits, please.”
“Of course,” Blayne tossed the bag of credits across the room. “And the same here,” he said tapping on his wrist, “If the Pirates know anything of use I will let you know immediately. Come on Gunn, we need to catch up,” he said with a quick motion to his buddy.
Together they ran out into the street where Kreta was waiting impatiently for them, “Not off to a good start guys. Now come on,” she said crossly.
And for the next hour and a half they barely spoke, doing their best to keep up with Kreta. For a teenager, she moved like the wind. Running down back alleys, slipping through the narrow spaces between buildings, scampering across the rooftops, and even through what Blayne was pretty sure was an open sewer. By the time she slowed down inside a derelict building, they were out of breath, sweaty, and smelled like something the pig farmers back home threw out.
Blayne sidled up beside Kreta at a window, forcing himself to slow his breath and speak, “Is that it?” he asked looking. Across the street, a dark docking area stuck out from the side of a building, suspended over the edge of the sub-level. A cargo shuttle was parked in the center, its running lights off. They could barely see, but it looked like a loading crew was hauling crates into the back of the shuttle. In the shadows, Blayne could just make out a series of heavily armed men staked out around the dock.
Holding a finger to her lips, Kreta nodded.
Gunn pointed through the window, “Is that him?” as a shadowy figure stepped out of the warehouse with a tablet in his hand, his hand gestures showed he was not happy. The poor subordinate who was the target of hi
s wrath received a kick to his butt to move him faster toward the crates stacked up on the dock.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kreta whispered, “He doesn’t seem to be in a particularly good mood.”
“We have little choice,” Blayne answered, standing up and heading toward the front door. “Let’s get this over with and get some answers.”
They exited the building and crossed the street toward the pirates, holding their hands up in the air, palms empty.
The perimeter guards came out of the shadows and pointed their rifles at the intruder's heads. Blayne led the way onto the dock and stopped in front of a guard. “I’m Blayne, your Cargo Master is expecting me.” The guard turned and looked questioningly over his shoulder at his boss who absentmindedly gestured them forward without taking his eyes off his tablet.
Lowering their hands, the group walked to the pirate in the center of the dock. Before Blayne could say a word the Cargo Master barked, “Make it fast! I’m behind schedule.”
Blayne bowed his head and said, “I’m Blayne, I was told you may have information about a recent kidnapping. A young girl, 18 years of age, about this tall,” he said holding his hand out to indicate height.
For the first time, the Cargo Master looked up from his tablet, “Kidnapping? A young girl? I don’t know who told you that, but we do not go around kidnapping people.”
Kreta tried to suppress a laugh with a sudden cough, to which the Pirate smiled, “Well, young girls anyway. We don’t mess with small fish.”
Now that they were close to the shuttle, Blayne could see inside at the loading crew. Three men were carrying the crates onto the shuttle where a small group of women and children worked together to stack and secure the crates.
Blayne pointed into the shuttle and asked sarcastically, “Let me guess, volunteers?”
The pirate turned and looked where Blayne pointed and laughed, “Nope. Paying customers actually.” He stared down at Blayne with a raised eyebrow, “They paid for passage off this stink hole of a world, not that it is any of your business,” he said with a warning tone.
Blayne glared back at the pirate, but lowered his voice, “I have it on good authority that one kidnapper had a pirate tattoo. A glowing compass on his neck.”
The Pirate looked Blayne up and down, a perplexed look on his face, “Who did you say you were?”
“Blayne.”
“And where are you from, young man?”
Gunn cleared his throat cautiously from behind him, but Blayne took a chance. “Dunadd, sir.”
The pirate circled Blayne, examining him from every angle. He seemed to look past the filth and grime that had collected on the Prince since they got on Crorix, and was examining the real Blayne underneath.
The pirate stopped in front of Blayne and rubbed his chin as he continued to study him. Blayne noticed the hand rubbing the pirate’s chin only had four fingers, then the pirate leaned in close to whisper, “Welcome to Crorix, Your Highness.”
Blayne took a step back in surprise, his hand instinctively dropping to where his holster was usually strapped to his leg, “How did you…?”
The pirate circled Blayne again, pointing with a long crooked finger up and down, “Your stance is of a highborn, your hands have no calluses or scars. And even with what looks like a week's worth of filth and grime on you, underneath I can tell your clothes are high quality.” The pirate stopped in front of the two men, hands behind his back. “And, we’ve already heard about the Aratan invasion on Dunadd.”
Gunn leaned his head to the side, puzzled. “How did you hear that? Kessen had a comm blackout over the entire planet.”
The pirate laughed, “We don’t get our information from normal news channels.”
Blayne squinted, “Spies. You have spies on Dunadd. Why? We are just an agricultural planet.”
The pirate made a sweeping gesture with both arms, “We have then everywhere! It’s what we do.” He looked at the stack of crates behind them, “Well, that and cargo,” he said with a grin, then the grin fell. “Please allow me to give you my condolences on your mother, she was a lovely woman.”
Blayne could only nod his head in acceptance. He didn’t trust himself to speak about her just yet. But a puzzling thought crossed his mind. How would a pirate know his mother?
The pirate handed his tablet off to a guard before continuing, “Now, about this young girl that went missing. I assume she is your sister, Cadee?”
Blayne frowned, “How did you know her name? And why do you know my family?”
The pirate flicked his hand in dismissal, “We monitor all royal families in the TriadVerse, you never know when it could be useful. About Cadee, I know little about the situation but what I can tell you, it wasn’t authorized.”
“But the neck tattoo, does it sound familiar?”
“Familiar? Yes, of course. It is a common tattoo used by many of the deep space pirates, but they hardly ever land dirt side on a planet.”
Blayne crossed his arms in frustration, “But it was a pirate. How can I find them?”
The pirate laughed, “You won’t, and you can’t. We don’t allow civilians on board any of our ships. But I tell you what, I will look into this for you.”
Blayne narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “And why would you do that?”
“Why, to have you in my debt of course! What self-respecting pirate would pass up a chance to have a royal Prince owe them a favor?”
Blayne looked back at Gunn, who shrugged indifferently. Looking over the shoulder of the pirate, Blayne thought hard and fast. Owing a favor to a pirate sounded like a bad decision, but it might supply him with new information. Information and possibilities that he didn’t have before. Memories from diplomacy lessons with his father popped into his head, on how diplomatic relations were built. One side had to offer trust before it was earned.
Looking up at the Cargo Master, he stepped forward and offered his hand, “Deal.”
The pirate shook it solemnly, saying, “Again, I am sorry to hear about your mother. Leave your comm frequency with my guards.” Turning to walk away he said over his shoulder as he boarded the shuttle, “And don’t com us, I will contact you if I find anything.”
Chapter 20
Morgan stood behind Uta in his role as bodyguard and felt the lift shudder violently as it descended into the depths of the city. With an ear-piercing shriek the elevator ground to a stop. The doors irised open to reveal a dark and dank rubble lined path leading off through a forest of concrete pillars.
Uta gestured at the massive columns that rose around them, “The original supports for the first level of Crorix.”
Morgan placed a hand on the pillar, feeling the vibrations from the living city above. Cradling his rifle in the crook of his arm, he walked with Uta as they wound their way through the pillars, following glowing arrows spray-painted on the columns.
Morgan whispered to Uta, “Be warned, if I spot Cadee I will leave you behind to get her out if I have to.”
The old lady replied, “Phttt… don’t worry about old Uta. I’ve been dealing with criminals like these before you picked up your first toy sword. I’ll be fine, you just worry about getting that young girl to safety if she is here.”
They couldn’t say much else as they came around a massive column to discover a large and weapon laden crowd gathered in an open area. Morgan could see up between the buildings and streets above, water dripping from the condensation on the walls. They had erected a stage off to one side of the clearing with powerful spotlights that showcased the market area.
The crowd of criminality made his trigger finger itch, but he forced himself to suppress his instinct for law and order. He may have a BlasTek rifle in his hands, and several other less-conspicuous weapons on him, but he was still one of the lighter dressed attendees. All around him and Uta were the criminal elite, along with their guards. Morgan considered as he looked around; if he could get the firepower in this room on his side, they would have a figh
ting chance at getting Dunadd back. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he knew that would never happen. Criminal Cartels of this level were only interested in one thing, serving themselves.
Uta, clacking beside him with her distinctive cane, muttered, “I haven’t seen a gathering of the underworld like this before. I bet half of Crorix organized crime is here!”
“That’s what black markets do, they attract the not-so-pleasant members of society,” he whispered, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd.
They worked their way through the mass of people, closer to the stage set up in the center. Morgan fought to keep a scowl off of his face. Showing disgust at the immorality of the black market would surely mark him as an outsider in a heartbeat. He did his best to adopt an expression of disinterest, as if this was a common activity for him. They stopped in front of a display erected to the side of the stage; it was a list of the night’s selections. As a supposedly interested buyer, Uta scanned through the list examining the descriptions. She hissed and whispered, pointing mid-way down the list, “Morgan! Look at this one!”
The list cataloged an 18-year-old female with clear skin, clean teeth, and long red hair. Morgan’s lip curled in disgust. They were describing a young girl as if it was a cattle auction back on Dunadd.
“That could be her,” he agreed. Then gasped at the suggested bidding price, “I see slavery is still a lucrative business.”
Uta tsked, “As long as humanity survives, there will always be those who need to be in power over others.”
Before they got sucked into the debate over slavery in the modern world, Morgan heard three blaster shots fired in quick succession from the edge of the crowd with someone yelling “Raid!”. Several flash bombs went off in the crowd, surprising the collective crime lords before they started running. Bright flashes of light flared through the columns as everyone fired their pistols and rifles into the darkness.
From above them, two squads of soldiers dropped, rappelling on ropes right onto the stage, blaster rifles already leveled at the crowd.
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