Fartan says, “I have a used one in that Katlin fighter over there that I could sell you. Not sure how compatible it is with this ship. We can try to hook it up. Will need about an hour. I can let it go for...5,000 bars.”
“Five thousand! Holy crap! I only have the 50,000 for the ship,” Meek shrieks.
“Tell you what I can do for you. Your old ship is good for scrap metal, so I will take it off your hands and toss in the cloaking device as an even trade.”
Che is unconvinced. “I think we can get more than five thousand for our piece of Swiss cheese.”
“Do you seriously want to be hanging around this place until we can find someone who will give us more for that piece of crap? Or we could be making some money smuggling right now,” Python tries to reason.
Che agrees, “True.”
Meek turns to Fartan and says, “You’ve got a deal.”
“Excellent! I will draw up the papers now. She will be ready to fly in about hour. It will be fully fueled with the cloaking device installed. What name do you want to give her?”
“The Smoking Aces.”
“I will get that painted on the ship, too. Did you want skull and cross bones with that?”
“Nope, paint this instead under the name,” Meeks orders, as he gives the famous middle finger hand gesture known as “The Rod.”
“Um...okay,” Fartan acknowledges.
Meek turns back to the other three. “Tell the others to grab all their stuff off the old ship and move everything to the new ship as soon as possible. I will contact Lord Cos and see if he has any smuggling jobs for us on this planet before we take off. I would like to make some money on our return trip to Pirate Lord Space.”
“Roger that, Boss,” Che says.
They take off to follow his instructions.
“Do you have a long-range Vid-Com here, Fartan?”
“Yes, sir. Come to my office.”
A few minutes later, they come into a small office. “This will give us some privacy.”
Vid-Com activates, and a large male Wolfkin with black hair appears on the screen.
“Captain Meek! How is life treating you? Did you get a new ship?”
“Yep, got a good deal on a smuggling ship. Need to make some money now. We can carry a few hundred tons of merchandise.”
“Wow! That is impressive! Doesn’t sound like a fighting ship, so you better watch your back.”
“Yeah, not a fighter, that is for sure. Nice hauler, though. Got a cloaking device, too.”
“Oh, that makes it an awesome smuggler. Let me check and see if I have any stuff in that region that needs to be hauled.”
“Okay.”
The Wolfkin goes off screen. Meek can hear him checking on his current inventory before he reappears. “Only got one shipment of stolen arts and crafts that needs to be picked up on that planet and taken to Laugh Skull for a drop-off to a fence. Pays 1,000 platinum bars. You might want to check the market square for regular hauling jobs in your cargo size range for some extra cash. I will tell the client to drop off the artwork at Fartan’s place.”
“Sound goods. We’ll go and check out the market square and see if we can get some other hauling jobs.”
Vid-Com ends.
***
Meek says, “Commander Python, I need you and the Sean to come with me to the market to see if we can get a hauling gig for our new ship.”
“Sure, Boss. Want me to bring my heavy machine gun, or just some pistols?” Python asks.
“We are not going to war. Just couple of hand blasters will do,” Meek replies.
“Aw, man...how about a few grenades at least?”
Meek sighs, slightly annoyed with the juvenile insistence on weaponry. “Okay.”
“Hee hee. Python, I never met someone who always thinks we are going to be blasting our way out of every place we go,” Sean says with a hint of sarcasm.
“Better safe than sorry, I always say. Besides, how many bar fights have we been in lately?”
“True. I am just messing with you. You probably sleep with your machine gun, don’t you?” Sean asks seriously.
“Sometimes, but I prefer lady friends whenever possible. That is the one big gun I like to show them. Heh heh.” Python smirks and winks.
“Okay, I could have gone all day without that image in my head,” Meek says.
Python has been with the crew for a couple years. He was a heavy weapons specialist when he served in the Reptilian Military. Since then, he mostly does mercenary work. He is wanted for murder, piracy, kidnapping, and a list of other crimes. He is rather tall for a male Snakekin and is striped instead of spotted as most Snakekins are.
Sean Belgarion comes from a very good family background, one that had plenty of money and even sent him to medical school to become a doctor. Unfortunately for him, his father was too good and got in the way of some others with political aspirations, leading to his family getting assassinated. He was from the Empire of Katlin originally, but after his family’s untimely demise, he had to flee and work off the grid in order to survive. He has been working with this crew for about a year as the ship’s doctor. Being a feline, he prefers to stay out of the water.
After they walk down the corridor of their new ship, they see a room where Cogg is working on their Android named M.C.L.O.U.D. No one really knows with that stands for, so they just call him MCloud. Cogg, the ship’s engineer, constructed him from spare parts.
Meek inquires, “Well, did you get it working again?”
Cogg hesitates before responding. “Got some new parts from the junkyard down the street and will be able to patch the blaster holes up for sure. Had to splice some personality and voice modules together to get them to work.”
“Well, fire him up and let’s see. Otherwise, I will make you watch reruns of The A-Team for a week,” Meek threatens.
Cogg flips on a switch in the back of MCloud’s head and watches as the Android stands up and looks around. Then he looks at Meek and says in a deep, gritty voice, “Hey boy... you look mighty cute in them pants.”
“Um...why does he sound like a gay Mr. T?” Meek inquires.
Cogg replies, “Sorry, I only had parts from a boxing bot and a pleasure bot. This is the best I could do for right now.”
Meek looks at MCloud and sees all the patch holes from blaster hits.
“Well, just keep doing the best you can,” Meek says as he hears Python and Sean laughing their heads off behind him. He turns around and says, “Ho-ho, ha-ha. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”
***
“That taxi driver is insane! I’m surprised we didn’t crash,” Sean remarks.
“No kidding. I was about to shoot him, that retard,” Python says in agreement.
Meek wakes from a short nap. “We’re here? Cool. Let’s get to work.”
The marketplace is jam-packed as far as the eye can see. That makes sense though, since it is the largest market in the Reptilian Empire. Everything is for sale here. Big computer screens are mounted all over the place to assist shoppers in finding the right merchant for the items they are looking for. There is even a hauler section for people needing their purchases delivered.
“According to this monitor, we need to go to Section D, Row 11 to sign up for haulers,” Meek says.
“Okay Boss,” the other two agree and follow along down the street. They walk for about thirty minutes before going into a building with a big “Cargo Shipping” sign outside.
A Snake man sitting at a desk greets them. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
Meek answers, “We are looking for some hauling work.”
“Do you have a union card from the haulers’ guild?”
“Not on me at the moment.”
“I can’t sign you up without a union card.”
“How much does a union card cost?”
“One hundred bars of platinum.”
“Good grief! That’s insane!”
“I don’t make the rules, I just gott
a go by them.”
Another Snake man walks in from outside and says, “Captain Meek?”
Meek turns around. “Who wants to know?”
“My employer has a job opportunity for you if you are interested.”
“Who is your employer, and what kind of job?”
“He will tell you himself. He will even toss in the price of your haulers’ union card.”
Python says with apprehension, “Dunno Boss. Smells fishy.”
Meek considers this. “Where does he want to meet?”
The Snake man points to a building outside that appears to be one of the tallest structures in the area.
“Isn’t that the Assassins’ Guild building?” Sean says with a worried look on his face.
“Yes, it is. But that is only where people go to hire assassins. We don’t allow jobs to be done inside; it deters clients.”
“Okay, I’ll go check it out. But if I think something doesn’t add up, I’m gone,” Meek iterates.
They go outside and a hover limo is waiting. They get inside and travel for about fifteen minutes. They come to the front of the building, get out, and walk up the steps. Masked guards are everywhere in black armor, and search animals patrol the grounds. Meeks and his crew go up to the door, and three large scanners scan them.
“You have to leave your weapons here.”
“Screw that.” Python refuses.
“Then you will have to stay outside.”
Meek and Sean put their weapons in a box that is put in a safe. They follow their unnamed escort into the building. They get into the airlift and go to the top floor. As they walk down the hallway, they notice all the mounted machine guns following their every move. They come up to the end of the hallway where there are two big doors that open as they approach. As they walk in, they see a huge conference table with several chairs. The big chair at the end of the table is turned around looking out the window. Someone is sitting in the chair facing the window, but Meek can only see an arm with a cigar in the hand.
“Welcome to my humble abode, Captain Meek. I am Trent, the guild master of this fine establishment,” Trent says in an unnaturally smooth voice.
Meek nervously replies, “Glad to meet you.”
“You do work for Pirate Lord Cos as a freelancer, no?”
“Yes, from time to time.”
“I have a job for you that requires your set of skills. I need you to set up a meeting for me with a certain lady.”
“Um... why can’t one of your crew do that?”
“Her name is Lady Evella Noctu of the Noctu Merchant Group. I have sent some people, but that didn’t turn out so well. She has people trying to assassinate her on a regular basis, so anyone from my humble guild would be killed before they even got a word out. As much as it will pain you not to lie or scam when you are dealing with her, I would not recommend doing either. She is a telepath, a very powerful one at that, so she will know if you’re lying.”
“Er... so you just want me to set up a meeting? That is all?”
“Correct.”
“What’s the catch? More importantly, what’s in it for me?”
“Four hundred platinum bars and a hauling license from the Shipping Union.”
“Seems straightforward.” Meek is wondering what happens if he refuses. He glances at Sean and notices that he has the same concerns.
“Very good then. Here is the address of the hotel where she is staying in the Consortium District. They have meeting rooms there already, so I have rented Suite A. After you speak with her, let me know the time for the meeting,” Trent says with a certain vigor.
“Okay, I will go find her now,” Meek assures him. He leaves the room with Sean.
“So do you think she will kill him?” a male Arachnid says, coming out of invisibility before moving next to the seated man in the corner.
Trent replies, “I hope not. I’m running low on communication ideas.”
***
“This is the room,” Meek says in a hesitant fashion.
“Python and I should probably wait around the corner so she doesn’t get spooked,” Sean suggests.
“Gee, thanks.” Meek looks at both of them with a frown.
“Yeah, I agree with Sean…Just in case she gets upset easily. I don’t want my brain fried,” Python says nervously.
“Oh, now Mr. Guns-a-blazing wants to take a back seat to the action,” Meek says with a huff. “Why don’t YOU knock on the door and I will cower around the corner.”
“Why don’t you all SHUT UP before I kill every one of you just for annoying me,” a loud female voice says with irritation from behind the door. The three stop talking, making faces and shrugging their shoulders at each other. “Well, are you going to come in or just stand there crapping in your pants? I don’t have all day.”
“Sure thing, Lady Eve.” Meek manages to squeak out his answer as all three come through the door. They see a corpse on floor with a severed head next to it. Lady Eve is sitting on an expensive sofa reading a handheld tablet. Their own weapons spring up out of their holsters in midair, activating while swiveling around to aim back at them.
Eve’s voice remains bored. “Who are you and what do you want? You have sixty seconds before I add your heads to my collection.”
“Guild Master Trent would like to meet with you to discuss something of importance,” Meek says without hesitation.
“The Assassins’ Guild Master? Hmm, interesting. Sounds like the spider is inviting me to his web. Why should I accept this offer?”
“On the contrary, he wants to meet you in one of the meeting rooms downstairs whenever you’re available.”
“You are pirates. What are you doing speaking for the Assassins’ Guild?”
“Umm...well you killed all the assassins he sent, probably because you thought they meant you harm. But they were just trying to deliver a message.”
“Well that makes sense. Tell him I will meet him downstairs in thirty minutes and not to be late.”
“Yes, Milady,” Meek says, still staring down his own gun barrels hovering in midair.
“You can pick up your weapons downstairs at the front desk when you return,” Eve assures them.
Python is about to protest, but the other two stare at him shaking their heads “no” and pointing to the corpse on the floor. Python decides not to press the issue. They back out the doorway.
Eve turns to Gothica. “Go to the meeting room and check it out. If looks like a trap, let me know. If not, just wait there and stay invisible,” Eve says.
“Yes, Mother,” Gothica replies in the soft voice of a female Arachnid lurking in invisible mode. Gothica is Eve’s adopted daughter and an Arachnid warrior.
Eve presses her communication device and says, “Front desk, can you send up housekeeping? I have a mess that needs to be cleaned up.” She looks at the corpse on the floor and rolls her eyes slightly.
“Yes, Madam. Someone will be up there soon.”
***
Thirty minutes later, the assassins escort their master to the meeting downstairs in the lobby of the hotel where Eve is staying. In the room, there are two sofas facing each other.
Trent signals to his guards to wait outside. He walks in and closes the door. He waits about fifteen minutes before letting his impatience take over him.
“Bah! On time, she says. And yet I have been waiting for fifteen minutes.” Trent speaks in defiance while sitting on a couch with his arms crossed petulantly.
“Come now, assassin. Do you always get this impatient when you are waiting for your next victim to show up?” Eve causally questions him as she returns to being visible, sitting on the couch in front of Trent. Trent jumps up after being startled, but then tries to downplay it as if he knew she was there all along.
“I was just testing you. Wanted to see if you thought I didn’t know you were here.”
Eve chuckles, “Sure you were.” She winks at the assassin.
“Why am I here?”
&
nbsp; Trent says, “It’s about our government.”
“Oh?” She seems at least slightly intrigued.
“About 100 years ago, our government and culture radically changed from being ruled by a council that was constructed from all of the guilds to one that was ruled solely by members of the Merchants’ Guild. They decided to create a system that operates on the ‘only the strongest will survive’ motto by having us kill each other like dogs fighting over scraps. At first, everyone decided just to try it, thinking it would be temporary. Now that it is planted firmly into our way of life, though, it is permanent.”
“I did some research on it. Under the old regime, we were expanding and growing at 2% per year as an empire. But now with this new system, we are losing growth every year to the tune of about 25%! Moreover, all of the guilds—except the Merchants’ Guild, of course—have suffered in a similar fashion. The Merchants’ Guild has such a stranglehold on the empire. And their grip is getting more powerful at the expense of the empire as a whole.”
“What does this have to do with you? And please tell me: why should I care?”
“The Assassins’ Guild used to be the pinnacle of for-hire killing. Now any slob off the street can be hired to kill someone, thus devaluing our services and fees. But this is something that affects the other guilds, too. Not just the Assassins’ Guild.” A brief pause ensues.
“I believe our government is being manipulated by an outside force, perhaps even another government. This foreign entity is cashing in on us at the same time it is weakening our government. My spies think there may be telepaths or sorcerers behind it.”
“That seems like a stretch. Do you have any proof of this?”
“Unfortunately, no. Even my spies, who are professionals, keep disappearing when they get close inside the Council Hall. The other guilds think the same way.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“The guilds are looking to support someone who is powerful enough to help overthrow the current government.”
“You mean as in a rebellion? Treason? That type of deal?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think I am this person? Why should I even care about any of this?”
“We’ve been watching you. Empress Draca does not take personal interest in people unless they are somehow significant. We know you have powers way beyond any normal telepath. You can take part in shaping the new government to ensure that it operates in the best interest of the citizens.”