Retribution Required Page 10

  "We were told you could take the Tykhe's current Rogue-6a missiles and replace the guts with something with more punch," Kraig said, grinning. "The outside must be the original Rogue-6a shell."

  "Why?" Nicole asked.

  "Two of the Rogue-6a missiles have a hollow core which the Black Hand is using to smuggle contraband. The modified missiles must look like the old ones so they don't figure out we know what they're doing," I said, and went on to explain how my father was murdered and the missiles inserted, implying the Black Hand had provided the modified ones.

  "The better missiles are in case we have to slug it out with ships belonging to the Black Hand or the Raiders at some point. In that case, better boosters may make the difference between us surviving or not."

  "The Tykhe already has boosters?" Orville asked, frowning in thought. I nodded.

  "Class three, JumpMasters," I said. Orville nodded his approval.

  "Should be easy to upgrade them to class six or maybe eight," he said while doodling on his tablet. I couldn't contain a smile. With class-eight boosters I might be able to lose a war cruiser.

  "And we also need some way to defend ourselves if the Black Hand decides to use force. Zen suggested bombs, percussion, gas, or flash in the hallways," Kraig said and then added, "we are hoping we can accomplish our mission and leave quietly. However, from past experience, the Black Hand probably won't cooperate, in which case we can use all the help you can provide."

  That provoked nods, snorts, and assorted comments. Merlyn then suggested a tour of the Tykhe. I spent an hour showing them the modified missiles, demonstrated how they worked, and gave them a tour of the ship.

  "That missile compartment is quite clever. It's a miracle you found it, Zen. I doubt customs would ever discover that as I'd imagine the leakage would be minuscule," Nicole said, giving me a knowing look which said she wasn't buying the Black Hand explanation. I explained how Shadi had alerted me to men on the ship and showed her the photos I had taken. I don't think that convinced her, but it raised plausible deniability.

  * * *

  Seven days later, the Tykhe was declared ready by the three teams that had been working on the modifications. Kraig and I had participated in the modifications but hadn't seen the upgrades. Nicole began the walk-though in the missile compartment. There she waved for us to inspect the missiles. After looking at each missile I would have sworn nothing had changed. And the two missiles with the secret compartments remained in the same position as before.

  "I can't see any difference," I said, impressed with the result. Kraig nodded.

  "You would have to take one apart to determine it wasn't a Rogue-6 missile. But if it strikes a spacecraft, they will know the difference. The payload is the equivalent of a Scorpion-3, which is about six times the explosive power of your old Rogue-6a." A small smile touched Nicole's lips, probably because my jaw was hanging open.

  Next Orville guided us to the engine room. "We couldn't do much with your current engines without structural changes to the Tykhe, but we did add a Kessler upgrade, which will increase your max power by close to fifteen percent. That, combined with the new class eight JumpMasters boosters, should give you better than even odds of shaking a war cruiser." He looked very satisfied and I didn't blame him. They had not only made the new equipment look used but had put the old identification plates on the new equipment. To all but a thorough inspection, the modifications wouldn't be noticeable.

  When I looked up, Clyde's eyes were sparkling with excitement. "My modifications aren't quite so magnificent but I think you will be pleased," he said as he led us into the hallway and pointed to the recessed lighting panels. "Follow me. I thought it best to demonstrate the new features in a more controlled environment." He led us into a small room which had a glass window looking out on a mockup of the Tykhe's hallway. "Open your tablet. Triple tap anywhere on the screen." He waited while I did, with Kraig looking over my shoulder. Five icons appeared and an input area. "You can change the password later, but for now type abracadabra." He smiled. I did and was surprised when nothing happened. "Now touch the cloud icon."

  I did and a cloud of gas could be seen coming from the lighting panels in the ceiling. "The real gas is invisible and you will hear nothing but it will incapacitate anyone without a gas mask of some kind for up to an hour. It will take about fifteen seconds to fill the area and ten to twenty seconds to take effect. He then handed each of us sunglasses so dark I couldn't see anything with them on. "Since you can't see, I'll press the light bulb icon."

  Suddenly the hallway flashed a bright white that caused my eyes to water.

  "If you aren't in a separate room, before you press that icon you must not only close your eyes but cover them with your arm. And for when you are in real trouble, press the firecracker icon."

  I did and the ceiling in the hallway exploded downward, causing extensive damage to the walls.

  "That will kill anyone not in battle armor. And if they are, my tests indicate the force of the explosion will incapacitate them."

  I clapped and Kraig joined in. "I hope I never have to use these options but they're perfect," I said. Clyde made a small bow.

  "Thank you. You have two more options. Press the footprint icon." He pointed to my tablet. When I did, a two-dimensional schematic of the Tykhe appeared and a video played, showing the sequence of steps we had made while viewing the modifications. Clyde smiled. The last icon, the padlock, locks everything on the ship: doors, control panel, passwords. And your tablet will go blank."

  "How do I get control back?" I asked looking at my blank screen.

  "Tap three times on the screen and then enter please."

  "I did and a menu of items appeared with checkboxes."

  "That gives you the option of restoring them one at a time while leaving the others locked." He gave a shallow bow as everyone began clapping.

  "Nicole, Orville, Clyde, thank you. I felt our odds of surviving this mission low to non-existent. Too many things can go wrong and the Black Hand is not only vicious and clever but unpredictable. I think you have helped to not only even the odds but given Kraig and me an edge."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Star System: Vayk

  "What do you plan to do in Vayk?" Kraig asked as I shut down the engines and began running through the shutdown checklist.

  "Pretend I'm back to business as usual. The Black Hand is undoubtedly looking for me... well, more specifically, the Tykhe and their canisters. I'm hoping to convince them I'm not running or hiding and their canisters are safe."

  "Do you need me along?" Kraig asked. I shook my head.

  "I don't want to do anything that could give the impression things are different after my return from the Central Systems. It would be nice if they entered the ship while we are out and collected those canisters. But I doubt I'm that lucky."

  "True. They will still need to transport them to Tyrus." Kraig rose to leave. "I'm going to collect my gear and pretend I'm enjoying some time off after a long and grueling trip to Vereya. What do you want me to do if someone approaches me for...business?"

  "Go with our story that you're a junior partner still learning the business and arrange for a meeting with you, me, and whoever is making the deal, no middleman. You can contact me on my tablet."

  Kraig nodded and left. Ten minutes later I saw him exit the ship. I had barely finished the checklist when the customs inspector appeared.

  "Good evening, Inspectors," I said, lowering the ramp to the cargo hold.

  "Do you have anything to declare, Trader Zenaida?" the older of the two asked, looking around the empty bay.

  "No. I had a high-priority delivery in the Central Systems. Since I don't normally trade in the Central Systems, that precluded me from getting new business, so I'm empty. But you are welcome to do a walk through." I waved for them to enter. They entered and walked through the ship, waving a Sniffer for effect since I suspected he just wanted to talk in the hope of finding out where I had been and why. I t
old them Vereya, but would only say it was my policy never to discuss customer business.

  When they left, I went to my quarters where I stood debating what to wear... I decided on normal spacer leathers, my Bahr Mfw, a laser I partially concealed under a sleeveless leather jacket, and a small knife in my boot. I laughed when I finished--not that I didn't have justification for my paranoia. I had acquired the attention of some very bad people.

  The walk through the parking area and the maintenance buildings seemed more eerie than normal, although I saw nothing suspicious. At the customs building exit I caught a taxi to the Longhorn Restaurant. Although it was still early, I decided to go directly to Club Henrik. Today I didn't care if someone was tracking me. My purpose was to be seen.

  When I entered the club I saw Henrik at the far end of the bar, talking to a group of men and women. I found an empty stool about halfway, sat, and ordered a draft beer. The club looked full of hard-looking men and women, not too surprising as this was a rough neighborhood, but the mood sounded jovial.

  "What are you doing here, Zen?" Henrik whispered as he came to stand next to me several minutes later. "There are a lot of people looking for you. In fact, there is a reward for information." His eyes darted right then left as if looking for someone. I laughed.

  "Go collect it, Henrik, maybe it's business. I could sure use some. I delivered my last load a week ago and I'm looking for work. Actually, it’s the reason I stopped in to see you."

  "You did me a favor, so I wouldn't want to..." he said. I was impressed. Honor among thieves and all that.

  "Nah, it's all right." I waved him off.

  "Charley, give Zen anything she wants. On the house," he said as he left in the direction of his office. I hope the Black Hand just wanted to know where the Tykhe was, and wasn't looking to kidnap me when they found out. Well, I'd soon know. I stayed for an hour in case anyone was following me. I didn't want to give the impression I was rushing or trying to avoid notice. That turned out to be a mistake, because it was late and the streets were deserted—except for the small gangs hanging in the shadows, looking for easy prey—but not a woman with a Mfw and a snow leopard.

  "Lookie what I found, Alie. The pilot the boss is looking for," said a cocky youth as he stepped out of the shadows. His head was shaved and his ears filled with rings. He wore black slacks and a silk shirt unbuttoned to the waist to display his neck and chest tattoos. His Mfw pointed at my chest. Another man stood just inside the alleyway, partially hidden by the shadows, and through my mental link with Shadi I knew another man stood a few paces behind me. Shadi, I sent a mental picture of the man in the shadows, Kill. As Shadi sprang at the man, the youth's Mfw instinctively swung in that direction. But before he could aim I swiveled my Mfw up and shot three times as it released and rose, hitting him in the groin, chest, and neck, and simultaneously dove to my left, away from Shadi and the man in the shadows. Turning as I flew toward the payment, I could see the man behind me frozen with indecision whether to aim toward Shadi or me.

  "Drop it or die, I shouted as I hit the ground and slid for another meter. Shadi awaited my command and I awaited the man's next move. The idiot turned and ran. My third shot hit him in the leg. "Drop it or the next one is to the head," I shouted as I rose and walked toward him. The warning wasn't necessary, as he had dropped the laser when he fell.

  "Your two friends are dead, so unless you would like to join them, who is paying you?"

  "Mr. Kardone. We weren't supposed to kill you," he choked out while clutching his leg.

  "Where can I find Kardone?" I asked, not sure what I was going to do with the information.

  "At the Bird of Paradise Club," he sobbed. I had a choice to make—to just leave or call the police. Since I left one alive, I decided to call the police so they would hear my side of the story rather than a sobbing man with the bleeding leg. The police responded within minutes. I suspected the neighbors had called them when the shooting began, and the police probably patrolled this area regularly.

  "What happened, Spacer?" asked a stocky broad-shouldered police sergeant as he kicked each of the dead men twice as he passed them. He looked pleased until he reached the bleeding man.

  "Three men attacked me with guns as I left Club Henrik," I said and shrugged. "I defended myself."

  "We didn't attack her," the sobbing man squeaked out. "We were paid to collect her."

  "Sorry, Officer. Three men jumped out of a dark alley and tried to kidnap me," I said trying to look apologetic. The officer gave a snort.

  "These three aren't from this neighborhood, so they aren't local boys. Wish you had killed them. Now I'll have to write up an incident report."

  "I would have but then I wouldn't have found out who sent them." I grinned.

  "That's reasonable. Who?" he asked, an interested look on his rugged face.

  "Mr. Kardone at the Bird of Paradise."

  "If you shoot him, half the police in that part of town will lose their benefit packages." He gave his first smile. "You can go, although I should jail you for the paperwork you're causing me."

  * * *

  I sat in the Longhorn Restaurant with Shadi, having steak dinners, trying to decide what to do next. It was clear the Black Hand was looking for me. The question was whether they wanted to know where I was, wanted me kidnapped, or wanted me killed. The trio had indicated Mr. Kardone didn't want me dead but they had used force—they could have just asked. So was that their idea or Kardone's and was the Black Hand on the Tykhe right now? If so, were they collecting their canisters or waiting for me? When I looked at my dinner, the food looked cold and the slice of meat on my fork looked to be the only piece off the steak. I shrugged and began eating my stone-cold dinner, weighing what I would do if I didn't know the Black Hand were after me. Halfway through my tasteless meal I decided I should visit Mr. Kardone.

  * * *

  The Bird of Paradise was on the far side of town in an upscale neighborhood. The front of the building had two windows on each side of the entrance, with live birds, and the two glass doors each had an etched Bird of Paradise. Elaborate birdcages with different species of birds lined the walls to the right and left, and a bar ran the width of the room at the far end. Behind the bar sat a stage where girls with feather fans were dancing. In the middle of the room were at least twenty-five tables.

  "Can I help you?" asked a shapely woman wearing a skin-tight one-piece outfit with feathers on her head and arms and a Bird of Paradise tail.

  "Yes. You can tell Mr. Kardone the Zenaida just flew in. I'll be at the bar." Without waiting for an answer I proceeded to the bar and found an empty seat on the far-right side, where Shadi had room to lie.

  "What can I get you?" a redhead with a feathered outfit asked.

  "Draft beer," I said, watching a digital display counter over the head of a tall shapely woman with long blond hair, working her fans, which showed tantalizing glimpses of flesh.

  "If you want to participate in the auction." The redhead placed a small tablet on the bar and smiled. I shook my head. A few minutes later she placed a beer glass etched with some exotic bird in front of me. Under the bird was engraved Victorian Crown Pigeon.

  A second woman had replaced the first when a tall wiry man with a Mfw at his waist approached.

  "Mr. Kardone will see you now," he said and nodded to the hallway off to my right.

  "No thanks. If Mr. Kardone wants to talk to me he can come out here. Right now he and I aren't friends."

  The man scowled but couldn't do much without sending the club into panic mode. He turned and strode into the hallway. Several minutes later he returned with a tall, bald, dark-skinned man. He was smiling as he sat next to me and held out a hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Pilot Zenaida. I apologize for my clumsy messengers. And thank you for saving me the aggravation of firing them."

  "After we got over introductions, one of them said you wanted to talk to me. So I thought I'd see what you wanted. I'm always in the market for new business," I said
and he laughed.

  "They should have told you I wanted to talk to you about business. I have a package I want delivered to a...friend on Tyrus." He lowered his voice and leaned a bit closer. It's rather urgent and I've heard you are reliable and discrete."

  "How big is this package and will it be sealed?" I asked, playing along with the game. They wanted their canisters on Tyrus immediately and would pay me a bonus using some pretext to justify the rush.

  "Two kilo and no. The contents are...private," he grinned.

  Who? How fast? And What?" I said, leaving the stool and nodding toward the hallway where I assumed he had an office. He took the hint and began walking. I waved for his guard dog to precede me. When Kardone nodded the guard fell in behind him as they entered the hallway. We passed the Peacocks and Peahen's lavatories, and several other doors with Authorized Only signs, and finally stopped at one marked Private. Inside was a spacious office with an oversized mahogany desk with a black leather executive chair and two padded guest chairs. Kardone waved me to one. Shadi, I sent the image of Kardone's guard-dog who remained standing by the door.

  Kardone went behind his desk, opened a drawer, pulled out a plastic bag, and placed it on the desk near where I sat. It didn't look like Velvet since it was white. Heroin, I suspected. The drug was fairly easy to smuggle since the vapors were relatively easy to contain, even from Sniffers. And the penalties weren't excessive on most Rim planets. Obvious, the Black Hand didn't want me arrested. I laughed mentally. I was getting paid triple rates to land at Tyrus.

  "Heroin, and it goes directly to a Mr. Osoriao," he said, and I couldn't contain an involuntary shudder at his name. "Do you know Mr. Osoriao?"

  "I doubt it but I met a loud mouth drunk a few years back who had a similar sounding name. Nasty experience," I said and shuddered again. "Can't be the same man. He's dead."