by Eric Thomson
“Your First of Ship?”
“He is unavoidably detained, Excellency and has honored me by ordering me to perform this most important task. I am at your complete disposal and will strive to fullfil my duties to the utmost of my limited and inadequate abilities.”
Bvanis cocked his head to one side.
“It is unfortunate. Please convey my deepest respects to your First of Ship.”
“Certainly Excellency. How may I help you?”
“Please describe your cargo.”
“Household appliances, mostly, and a few luxury trinkets.”
“Please show me.”
“If you will follow me, Excellency.” She bowed her head then glanced at Decker. They quickly walked down to the main cargo bay, leaving the official’s pilot with his cutter, under the watchful eye of a pair of brawny bosun’s mates.
Darhad tapped the proper sequence to unlock the cargo bay door, her long fingers dancing over the pad. When the double doors whisked open with a sigh, she entered, stopping by the rampart of standard containers.
The official came to stand beside her and inspected the cargo with unblinking eyes. Then, he pulled out a hand-held scanner. Darhad’s eyes momentarily widened in alarm, and she glanced at Decker, who’d seen her reaction.
“Your Excellency seems to have an interesting piece of equipment,” she said, recovering her poise.
“Ah yes. Our government bought a significant number of these marvelous machines from a human trading firm recently. He called them state-of-the-art, which, I understand means the best.”
Zack examined the small rectangular package in Bvanis’ hand and recognized a civilian version of the military battlefield sensor. It was advanced tech but built for war, not precise scanning like police sensors. The Constabulary would never use them.
Darhad looked at him again, one upswept eyebrow raised in question.
“His Excellency has a good example of recent human tech,” Zack said. “Our armed services have used this machine in war.
Raisa gave Zack a small, knowing smile and turned her attention back to the Pradyni official.
“What please is in that container?” He pointed at one in the middle of the right-hand stack.
Darhad glanced at the label on the side. “Cooking implements: knives, kitchen appliances and the like.”
Bvanis cocked his head to the side again and played his scanner over the container. Decker, now fully alert thanks to Darhad’s reaction, glanced over the shorter alien’s shoulder and stared at the readout.
After twenty years of soldiering, Zack could interpret a sensor scan in a way the average civvie couldn’t even begin to do. And this scan, while it ostensibly showed power tools, as the first officer had described, also showed background readings that shouldn’t come from a box of utensils.
Were he ordered to discuss his thoughts about what he saw, Decker would have said there were high-tech weapons hidden between the vibrablades, cookers and other powered implements, which would explain why Darhad seemed alarmed at seeing the sensor.
Zack cursed himself for not having studied the planet further, but he’d be willing to bet the political situation wasn’t too stable on Pradyn. Perhaps someone opposed to the government was buying contraband human weapons under the cover of harmless kitchen appliances.
His eyes met Darhad’s over the alien’s bowed head, and he saw that the Arkanna woman knew he knew. Since he wasn’t supposed to find out about the contraband, his loyalty was about to be questioned. Would an ex-Marine aid and abet illegal commercial activities? Or would he run to the nearest Fleet outpost and do his duty?
The Fleet had kicked him out so he didn’t have any reason to feel generous towards his former employers. And this was small time stuff. No skin off his nose if aliens wanted to kill each other. It kept them from killing humans.
“Hmmm, and this box?” Bvanis pointed at another randomly chosen container.
*
Half an hour later, Darhad and Decker escorted a satisfied customs official back to his cutter. He had placed his seal on all containers. Now Shokoten could land and off-load the cargo. Whoever took receipt of if would have to deal with the paperwork on the ground to remove the seals and clear the stuff, but that wasn’t the ship’s problem.
Darhad and Bvanis carried out the short Pradyni greeting ritual again, and the reptilian climbed aboard his cutter. Moments later, he was gone.
As Zack and the first officer walked the length of the ship to the captain’s cabin, Decker wondered how he should handle his discovery. Apart from the weapons, he’d seen traces of restricted electronics hidden in the containers. Nothing that gave him heartache. Since the first officer knew he’d found out, a lot would depend on how he acted next.
The first officer knocked on the door to the captain’s cabin and was ordered to enter. Zack followed.
“All went well?” Strachan asked, outwardly calm, but betrayed by his fidgeting fingers.
“Yes, sir,” Darhad replied. “But there is one disturbing development. The Pradyni now have high-grade sensors.”
“What?” Strachan leaned forward over his desk and looked at Raisa Darhad with incredulity.
“Tell him, Mister Decker,” Darhad ordered.
“Aye, sir. Captain, the Pradyni have a civvie version of the Navy’s Mark Nine hand-held battlefield sensor. The Mark Nines are still in use by the Corps.”
Pathfinders had the Mark Ten, which would have made those guns show up like priests in a whorehouse, but there was no need for Strachan to know.
“Those little babies are built to be tough, work anywhere, and be used by even the dumbest trooper. That means they’re not as accurate as police sensors. An experienced tech who knows what he’s looking for can read a lot more into the scan than the obvious. I doubt these guys will ever be good enough. It usually takes the fear of death to become that skilled. Properly camouflaged stuff can fool most people.”
Strachan and Darhad exchanged a significant glance that wasn’t lost on Decker. A tiny part of him felt nervous.
“And are you good enough to read between a Mark Nine’s scan lines, Mister Decker,” the captain asked, locking eyes with Zack.
“Yes, sir. I know those sensors better than my mother. Used ‘em for years.” Decker held the stare with unabashed defiance.
“And you saw what the customs official scanned?”
“Yes, sir. Saw his readout clear as day.”
“Tell me, Mister Decker. Do you have any problems with what you saw?”
That was the question Zack had been expecting. He hoped that his face was as neutral as he could make it.
“Not my place to have problems, sir. My job’s ship security, not cargo.”
Strachan examined him with narrowed eyes. He stroked his beard several times as if deep in thought.
“Very well, Mister Decker. Thank you for bringing this development to my attention.”
The captain didn’t look very thankful. Worried like hell was a better description and he glanced at his first officer, a natural-born killer, then at his gunner, a former Marine from a Corps whose reputation for integrity was legendary. It took little for Zack’s paranoid mind to spin scenarios he’d rather not contemplate.
He took a deep breath. In for a penny, in for a cred.
“Sir, if you want to make sure the sensor readouts show only what you want to show, there’s ways of making that happen. Won’t fool everybody all the time, but it’s better than what you have now.”
“Really, Mister Decker? And why would I want to hide anything from anybody?”
Zack was thrown off by the captain’s reply. But interest glinted in Strachan’s eyes. He recovered and shrugged.
“Just trying to do my job, sir.”
“Yes, thank you, Mister Decker. Dismissed.”
Zack merely nodded and left, unable to decide whether he was dog meat or not. He returned to his cabin and threw himself on his bunk. Weapons were shut down for the entry into Prady
n orbit and the landing, and he had nothing to do until they were on the ground, except fret.
Since he had decided to stick with Captain Strachan until he found himself doing something he found morally repugnant, he pushed the thought aside. The way things worked, if the Constabulary or the Fleet caught them, the crew wouldn’t suffer for minor contraband, only the officers, and the owners. Provided, of course, that the crew didn’t resist boarding or inspection. However, the discovery that Strachan was running illegal guns gave him second thoughts about the mysterious death of the former gunner.
*
“What do you think, Raisa?” Captain Diego Strachan raised an eyebrow as he looked at his first officer. “Can we trust him to keep quiet or will his old Fleet instincts send him to the nearest military outpost?”
Darhad ran slender fingers through her crimson hair, lost in thought.
“If truth be told, Captain, I don’t know. Decker is a difficult man to judge on anything other than his efficiency, which is commendable. There is, of course, the fact that the military threw him out, and that should affect the way he sees his loyalties. Then too, smuggling weapons to alien planets is not so big a crime in a Marine’s eyes. Most military minds I have come across believe in a nonhuman race’s fundamental right to destroy itself or any other nonhuman race of its choice.” She shrugged. “I must admit I like and admire him. He has a hunter’s soul and instincts. We could do much worse than trust him. Let us wait and see what happens. If he wants to betray us, I will find out before he does so, and I will kill him.”
Strachan gazed at his second in command through half closed eyes. Sometimes Raisa Darhad’s bloodthirsty predisposition troubled him. But for all that, she was a good first officer, ready to command her own ship. He trusted her judgement. He had to. Otherwise, he would be alone on a ship crewed by rogues who wouldn’t be out of place on a marauder, but who preferred to keep their heads on their necks in return for smaller profits.
“What happens when Alers tries to get his revenge?” Nothing remained secret on a ship like Shokoten and Strachan knew of the bad blood between his bosun and gunner. “He may be an idiot at times, but he’s able, and he’s served with me for several years. Do I sacrifice him for Decker? Is Decker valuable enough, and harmless enough to our affairs?”
“That is your decision, Captain. But consider that your bosun is spiteful and brutal. The crew hates him, and he can impose discipline only by force. Eventually, someone will kill him. Any intelligent, experienced rating can take over the bosun job, but you have only one gunner, and a good one at that. Not like Lokis. Decker did nothing stupid upon discovering contraband in the cargo, nor did he deny seeing the contraband, and he showed himself willing to discuss the subject of sensors and ways to foil them.”
Strachan nodded. “I will take your words under advisement, Raisa. Meanwhile, keep an eye on friend Decker, especially if he goes on liberty. I rather like his ways and don’t want to discover that he is dangerous to us after all. When do we land?”
“We will be in orbit in twenty minutes. From there, spacecon will assign us a landing pattern. It could be anywhere from an hour to two days.”
“Thanks, Raisa.”
She smiled to herself as she left the cabin. Strachan’s orders gave her a perfect reason to get to know Decker in a less formal setting. She felt attracted to his fierce, proud professionalism. Of all the humans aboard Shokoten, he was the closest to a male of her species.
*
It didn’t take four years at the Academy to set-up the security on a freighter like Shokoten, even on a technobarbarian planet. Alers’ spacers and mates were detailed as guards under Decker’s orders, and they gave him no trouble. The bosun, bullying and brutal when he held the upper hand, was despised by most of the crew, and he’d come down a peg or two since Zack gave him a beating.
Several ratings had given the gunner knowing grins when they reported for security duty, and he placed those in the airlocks he couldn’t directly see from the hold or outside. The ones who looked like they might be Alers’ pals, Zack kept with him in the hold, to watch the stevedores.
All the guards carried loaded pistols. Decker had made sure they knew how to use them, and more importantly when to use them. He didn’t need an idiot blowing his toes off, or, since the possibility was always there, accidentally shooting him while ‘cleaning his weapon.’
The Pradyni worked with speed and efficiency under the direction of a foreman with a disturbing tendency to snarl at his workers.
“They must not have a union, with the boss abusing his gang like that,” Zack commented in an aside to the second officer.
Bowdoin cackled. “Never left the Commonwealth, have you, Gunner?”
“No sir.”
“The reason these workers aren’t unionized is that they’re slaves.”
“What?” Zack Decker, who’d fought slavery time and time again, had never seen the wretches at work in a slave-owning society. His hand reflexively reached for his blaster, and he had it half-drawn before he regained control of his instincts.
“Calm down, Mister Decker. This isn’t a human world. The Pradyni can do whatever they want. Slavery is bred into this society. They had them long before we made contact, and I imagine they’ll have them for a long time yet. It’s not our concern either way.” Bowdoin paused and studied the working Pradyni.
“Their government has forbidden the trade with off-planet slavers, so most of the people wearing the collar are natives who have broken the law, or who were born to their state. They’re efficient enough and well controlled.”
“I guess they are at that, sir,” Decker replied, doubt and loathing evident in his tone.
“There are worse places out here, Gunner, a lot worse,” Bowdoin murmured.
The unloading was quick, thanks to the strange looking container-lift machines the natives drove. Powered by some sort of primitive internal combustion engine, they spewed disgusting gray exhaust fumes that rapidly filled the cavernous hold. Even the ship’s air scrubbers had a difficult time keeping up with the pollution.
Zack could have found refuge in the controller’s room which would have given him the same view as from the catwalk, but he was damned if he would leave his guards to breathe the crap while he hid in an air-conditioned office. The next time, though, he would rustle up filters or masks so they could breathe without destroying their lungs. It would mean going to engineering, but such things could be arranged without facing the irascible third officer.
*
“That’s it, sir.”
The hold was empty. All the containers, including the ones with contraband, had been offloaded and stacked in a nearby storehouse to await pick up by the recipients. Zack was glad the guns were off the ship. No matter how much he tried to ignore the fact, breaking the law, even beyond Commonwealth borders, made him uneasy. Twenty years of training wouldn’t wash away in a few weeks.
“Thank you, Gunner. Secure the locks and stand down.” Bowdoin nodded.
Decker snapped to attention. “Aye, aye, sir.”
*
“The shippers have advised me we have a three-day wait before they can load their cargo.”
Captain Strachan scowled as he swept the assembled officers with an annoyed gaze. He was unhappy, and the reason was easy to divine. For three days, Shokoten would be idle, eating up expensive landing fees.
“Obviously, they want a bribe to speed things up, but the delay isn’t bad enough for that. Yet.”
“What happens when they postpone loading again?” Raisa Darhad looked just as somber as her captain.
“I will deal with that in due course. As it happens, I’ve made sure any further delay would cost them in increased shipping fees. They can weasel out of it, of course, by getting an arbitrary decree from their king, but by now, even he knows it would be bad for business. The Pradyni obtain most of their high tech from the Commonwealth, and tech must flow.”
“Meanwhile,” Strachan continued, “we
will have liberty. No more than twenty-four hours per crewmember. I want a full watch on board at all times, including security.” He glanced at Zack. “I’d prefer that the crew go out in pairs and not alone and make damn sure they know the native taboos. If someone gets into trouble with the local law, there is little I can do to rescue them. I’d rather people get drunk aboard the ship than in a tavern. Failing that, tell them to stay in Spacetown. The natives are more tolerant there than in their own cities.”
Raisa Darhad nodded.
“The liberty sheets will be posted by the end of the watch.”
“That’s all. Have a good time ashore. And be careful.” Strachan rose and left the wardroom.
*
“You going, Nihao?” Decker asked as he changed out of his worn battledress and pulled on his single change of civilian clothes.
“No. I have much work to do. Merchant ships don’t carry large amounts of perishable foods. It takes up too much space, and stasis containers are expensive. I have to negotiate the local purchase of fresh things.”
“On an alien planet?”
“Some of their food can be eaten by humans, and there is a ship’s chandlers business here that grows human foodstuff, mainly soy-based. Unfortunately, it will take up all of my time.”
Zack nodded. Nihao Kiani didn’t want to take time off on the planet where her former roommate had died, and her work gave her a good excuse.
“Be careful, Zack.”
“Don’t worry about me, Nihao. I checked the roster. Alers isn’t allowed off the ship until tomorrow.”
She looked at him with worried eyes. “The bosun will not take his revenge personally, Zack. He is too frightened of you and will have someone else do it while he is aboard and has a good alibi.”
Decker paused, his shirt half done up.
“Doesn’t matter. Bad guys haven’t managed to kill me in twenty years and they won’t now, especially not some half-assed friend of Alers. We can’t carry blasters in town, but I can sure as shit take this.” He flashed his black-hilted, silver-bladed Pathfinder dagger. “The bugger’s already tasted its edge, and will again if anyone gets too frisky.”
