Chapter 16
“I’m so happy you are OK,” burbled José, his arms flung around O’Riley and gripping him tight.
“Oh, thank you, Captain.” O'Riley tried, unsuccessfully, to extract himself. “Aw, José, stop it, you’re embarrassing me.”
“I think it’s kind of cute,” said Squirrel.
“Now you’re embarrassing me” said O’Riley.
M’Elise made a gagging gesture. “You’re all making me sick.” She leaned over, but not too close, looking at Ninajatuli. “I think she’s still breathing. She’s not blue, anyway.” She returned to drinking her espresso.
“Where’s your son, José?” asked Squirrel. He let go of O’Riley long enough to shrug.
“He’s in his room,” said O’Riley, evading José. “He slept through the whole thing. Told me to go away when I tried to rescue him.”
“Seriously? That’s gratitude for you.”
“So what do we do with her?” asked M’Elise.
“I kind of like her where she is,” said O’Riley. “She brightens up the place.”
“What happens when you throw someone out the airlock in transitional space?” asked Squirrel.
“Same as normal space: they die,” said M’Elise. “Only the mass change might also throw your course off. Not recommended.”
“We shouldn’t kill her,” said José.
“Why not?” asked Squirrel. “She tried to kill us.”
He rubbed his forehead where the patch used to be. “It would be wrong.”
“She’ll only try to kill us again.”
“That may be true,” said M’Elise. “But if we kill her likely the whole damn Sorority will be after us.”
“Maybe they already are,” countered Squirrel.
“I’m not having anything to do with killing her,” said O’Riley.
“Why not?” asked Squirrel. “It seems just up your alley.”
“Captain’s orders,” he said evasively, nodding at José.
“Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t anyway,” said M’Elise.
“So what do we do with her?” asked Squirrel in exasperation.
“Can’t we just let her go?” asked José.
“Sure” said Squirrel sarcastically. “Just let her skip out the airlock with a ‘thank you for flying the José Fabuloso’.”
“We don’t have to let her out at a space port,” said O’Riley.
“We could maroon her on an asteroid,” said José.
“I’m not keen on keeping her around at all,” said M’Elise. “She could probably kill us with a ribbed condom.”
“There we go!” said O’Riley. “We toss her out the airlock just before we transition.”
“I though we ruled out killing her,” said Squirrel.
“No, no. In a space suit. They’ve got emergency beacons. I can rig it to go off after a time delay.”
“Riley, you’re a devious genius. I like it,” said M’Elise. “Write it down. You’re never going to hear me say that again.” She looked closely at the prone body once more. “How long will she stay unconscious once we turn the gravity back to normal?”
“Hard to say. Better to look for something in the med kit to keep her out.”
“Have you got a cert in Medical?” asked M’Elise.
O’Riley shrugged. “No. Do you?” M’Elise shrugged.
“Feed her chocolate,” said Squirrel. “We’ve got plenty of it. It should ‘incapacitate’ her as well as anything else.”
“And it would be funny,” said M’Elise. “I like it even better. Good crew! Good crew!”
“Fabuloso!” cheered José.
Just over a week later the Fabuloso appeared, in convoy, in the Wellington system. They waited nervously to see if their naval escort queried them about an unannounced mass dump just before transition. But time passed and the convoy dispersed without any question.
“I declare operation candy grassed assassin a success,” said Squirrel.
“Fabuloso!” cheered José, hitting the accelerator. Hard.
“Naval escort,” said M’Elise through gritted teeth. “Sill in sensor range.”
“I don’t see any naval escort,” said José, innocently.
“Certainly not through that burning trail of plasma.”
Three operational warnings later they approached Wellington High Port. M’Elise played her console like an organ.
“Any good cargos?” asked Squirrel.
“What? Oh. Sure. Cargo isn’t a problem. This is a good port. We can pick up a few cases of the most expensive wine we can afford and sell it at our next stop for at least a 10% profit.”
“What’cha checking out then? Booking me for my Commo cert? Now that I have 40 HOURS RADIO TIME.” She did a little dance in her seat.
M’Elise smiled. “No problem there. That’s a walk-in at Starport Authority. They’re actually efficient here.” She hesitated, poking at the keyboard. “Just an old ship of mine in port. Wanted to see whose still around.”
“Is she there?” asked José. “The Rich Kingford?”
“Yeah. Berth 19.”
José immediately changed course. M’Elise shook her head. “Is that the one that treated you like crap?” asked Squirrel. M’Elise nodded. She gave her a grin and cracked her knuckles. “I’d say we hit dockside looking for a fight. No one screws with the crew of the Fabuloso!”
José cheered and brought them in close, nearly brushing the surface. The communications console starting relaying protests.
“Is that Johnny-o-commo on comm. Still?” asked M’Elise aloud.
“Oh Smelly Johnny-Oh” crooned José.
M’Elise took the input. “Sorry for the close pass Kingford. We thought we saw a zit on your arse and felt we should check it out for you. Those things can ruin your chances of promotion.”
There was a pause followed by outraged demands for identity.
“This is the José Fabuloso under the command of José Fabuloso. Surely you’ve heard of him?” said M'Elise smoothly.
There was a longer pause. “Maybe they forgot” said José. Any notion of that fled as the console erupted in colorful invective.
“Wow,” said Squirrel. “I worked a bar and I’m impressed.”
M’Elise giggled like a schoolchild. “Now Johnny-o, you know you’re going to be on report for that tirade. Oxyartes will book you an hour in mess for each adjective.”
Realization struck and another stream started, but was rapidly cut off. Squirrel gave M’Elise a high five. Another, calmer voice took over. “Kingford to Fabuloso. We acknowledge your inspection of our aft end.”
“Oh the gods,” said M’Elise. “It’s the big O!”
“Ask him out,” said José.
“No way!” said M’Elise. “I don’t care how cute his butt is.”
“Mic’s on,” said Squirrel. M’Elise went pale and triple checked it. “Made you look!” chortled Squirrel.
“Don’t do that!” M'Elise slapped Squirrel's shoulder.
They went silent as the comm continued. “And congratulations on your promotion, both of you.”
José cheered. “Thank you Kingford,” said M’Elise. “See you in dock.”
“I’m sure you will. Kingford out.”
“A date! A date!” chanted José.
“I don’t think so,” said M’Elise.
“Would you rather rumble with the crew or tumble with the officers?” asked Squirrel.
“I’d rather cargo up and get out of the system with my dignity intact.”
“Boo!” said Squirrel.
Later that evening they sat in a nice bar a few blocks away from the docks. It was full of rich wood with brass trimmings in a lush way you only found at ports around planets blessed with an actual ecosystem.
Wine flowed freely and even though it was cheap, the quality was superb. “Good call on the bar” said O’Riley to the old man. “I’m usually a purist when it comes to worshiping the spirits, but this is fi
t for drinking.”
“Well, it was an old haunt of mine. They still have some of the older vintages, from back when I could digest wine.” He lifted his glass. “It’s still good. But I’ll pay for it later.”
Squirrel sat grinning at her certificate, perched amongst the remains of a huge cheese plate. “I feel so legitimate!”
M’Elise topped up her glass again. “Is this your first respectable job?”
Squirrel mused for a while. “I guess working in a holovision game emporium doesn’t really count. So yes!”
“Something to write home about,” said M’Elise meaningfully.
Several emotions crossed Squirrel’s face. Despair, apprehension and concern. Finally resolution won out and she met M’Elise’s gaze. “Yes, it is.” M’Elise grinned and drowned her glass in salute.
A few bottles later the waiter paused at their table. “Excuse me, Ma’am. There’s a gentleman at the bar asking for you.”
“Is he tall, dark and with a tight ass?” giggled Squirrel.
M’Elise slapped her shoulder. “Don’t! I’ve got to pee anyway.”
She made her way to the front but there was no one there. She looked quizzically at the bartender and he motioned out the door.
She walked out into the quiet night. The air was cooler here and she drank that and the stillness in for a few moments, forgetting why she was here.
She was brought back to the present by the quiet click of a well machined door closing. She opened her eyes and saw that in the gloom was a long black sedan of some sort that a bulky man in black had just gotten out of.
“Son of an accountant,” she swore. “Not you again.”
The man walked slowly towards her. “I don’t believe we’re met before.”
“That was ‘you’ plural, not ‘you’ singular. It’s a defect of standard dialect that you can’t tell them apart. Now Riley inside would have said ‘Not ye again’, making the distinction clear.”
“Thanks for the grammar lesson.”
“And since the common sense lesson I gave your monkey boy brothers didn’t sink in lets do that again. No, we don’t have what you’re looking for. No, we don’t know what you are looking for. And, no, being all vague and intimidating is not going to change either of the two above.”
He loomed over her. “We’ll have to see about that.”
“Yeah, yeah, big scary man. I still can’t tell you what I don’t know so you might as well…” her breath was brought up short by a solid punch to the stomach. She hit the ground gasping. He kicked her in the face. Then twice more in the ribs. Then a final one in the stomach as she drew breath to shout. He then picked her up like a pile of dead meat and threw her in the back of the sedan.
The pain of her hangover fought with the pain of M’Elise’s bruises. She hadn’t lost consciousness. At least not for very long. All she remembered was pain of varying intensities.
Pain as other bodies were dumped on hers. Pain as the vehicle swerved and they slid around. The pain of being very roughly searched. And the intermittent pain through the night of others talking and crying.
Cold water dabbed at her face and her eyes winced against the light. “She’s a mess” she heard Squirrel say. “Possible concussion and her eye’s all swollen shut. Don’t you goons have a medical kit or something?”
“Just get her walking” said a voice she didn’t recognize. “Boss wants to see you.”
Fingers forced their way into her mouth. She tasted something bitter before swallowing reflexively. “At least they have hangover pills” she heard Squirrel whisper in her ear. “Go figure.”
The dose didn’t do much other than add another unpleasant taste to her mouth. It did galvanize her will though. She cracked her working eye open and tried not to wince at the light. José was there trying to hold her hand like she had done with his once back in the Rich Kingford’s infirmary. “It’s OK” he said. “We’ll find who to report this too.” She almost laughed, but the pain in her ribs from breathing hurt too much.
“I don’t think we’ll be reporting this,” said O’Riley, helping her try to sit upright. The world spun. “These fine gentlemen have the smell of The Cooperative about them.” She groaned as José and O’Riley steadied her. He snapped his fingers in front of her. “Focus! We need you on this. You’re a better talker than the rest of us.”
“Unh” she said, trying to work out how much pain speaking caused. “I only deal with amateur hoodlums. These are professional.”
“There you go!” said O’Riley. “Sharp as ever.”
Squirrel joined them looking worried. “I don’t think I can stall the guard much longer. Cleavage notwithstanding.” Her garments, like the others, had most of the seams torn open from the rough search they had been given.
“Why am I the only one they beat up?” asked M’Elise painfully.
O’Riley grinned, showing a missing tooth. “They got the rest by surprise.”
“Ouch!” said Squirrel. “Sorry about that. I was too drunk to work out what was going down.”
“Ah, well, I operate better when drunk,” said O’Riley. “Besides, I lost that tooth many fights ago.”
“Is she moving?” said an impatient voice.
“She can’t see straight. She’s got a concussion” protested Squirrel.
“To bad” he said. “Drag her if you have to. The boss is ready.” The tone made it clear there was to be no argument.
José and O’Riley supported M’Elise and Squirrel came along afterwards with the old man.
“What do you think they will do to us?” she asked him.
“Hopefully give us something interesting to drink.” She rolled her eyes.
They were ushered through a number of corridors of a fairly industrial nature. Finally they came to a moderately well appointed room with wood paneled walls, ornate ceiling fixtures and a plush red carpet and furniture. “Don’t sit down,” commanded the guard as M’Elise headed towards the couch.
“What a prick” muttered O’Riley.
M’Elise shook her head. “Petty power gesture. Makes little people feel big.”
“Whoever this is, they are certainly compensating for something,” said Squirrel.
“I think that’s a bar” said the old man, wandering off to the corner. The guard didn’t stop him.
A minute or so later the door opened and another guard walked in. Then a short man dressed in an over tailored suit, followed by two more guards. The man looked at them, enraged. “I should just string you miserable vermin up for all the trouble you’ve caused.” He paced up and down, slapping one glove into the other hand. “I’ve had to disrupt my schedule and lead this stupid little effort to track you thieves down. What made you think you could get away with it? Stealing from me? Pieter Konstantinov of the Konstantinov cooperative? The cooperative in this sector. Do you people have anything to say for yourselves?”
There was a long pause. Several of them darted glances at M’Elise, but she was silent.
“Sorry?” ventured Squirrel eventually.
“Sorry!” exclaimed Pieter incredulously. “Sorry?”
“Sorry we stole the ship your guys stole.”
“The ship? Who cares about the ship. I want the Camelidae.”
“The what?” asked Squirrel, puzzled. They all exchanged confused glances.
“The Camelidae. The Camelidae Sapphire. What did you think this was all about?”
“We’ve tried to tell you on a number of occasions,” said M’Elise thickly, “we have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Pieter angrily signaled one of the guards who stepped forward to punch her. José interceded and received the blow full in his stomach. He dropped like a stone, wheezing.
“Enough of this,” said Pieter. “String them up.” The guards brought out chains and it became clear the ceiling fixtures also disguised secure mounts.
“That’s probably not a good idea’, said the old man, having fixed something at the bar.
&n
bsp; “I said enough,” shouted Pieter. “String him up too.”
“Definitely not a good idea,” the old man said, stepping into the light.
Pieter’s face was flushed with rage but he checked his next command when he saw the goblet of green liquid. Rage turned to puzzlement, surprise, irritation and finally back to rage. “Grandfather???”
“Grandfather???” said Squirrel and O’Riley in unison.
“Miss me?” the old man asked innocently.
Pieter sputtered incoherently. The old man sipped his absinth while he calmed down. “You? Why? What the abyss are you doing messing this up? You’re retired.” He spit out the last word like it was poison.
“I was freeloading on Vestry when these kids breezed through. Obviously you had screwed up again so I thought I’d tag along and see if you were capable of handling your own mistakes.”
“My mistakes? My mistakes? It’s not my fault. Whatever nutcase those terrorists we sponsored contacted for transport got them into port hours earlier than planned. Our operatives were still bribing their way out of jail when the station blew. I am surrounded by idiots. Nothing gets done right unless I do it myself.”
“You surround yourself with ‘yes-men’, your plans are far too complicated. You draw too much attention with high profile operations. You were just a bad choice for successor.”
“You can rot in the pit. I’m in charge now. You can’t interfere. Co-op law.”
“Co-op law also states you can’t go after family.”
“Fine. No problem. Get your stuff and get out of here. I’ve got some backs to break.”
The old man smiled, took another mouthful, and ambled over to José. “My dad and I will just be going now then.”
“Your dad? What in the name of arsenic is this?”
The old man put on a look of feigned surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry. Your casual approach didn’t lead itself to introductions. Pieter meet José, José meet Pieter.”
“Hello Pieter grand grand son” said José.
“This is nonsense” shouted Pieter.
The old man patted his breast pocket. “He adopted me back on Vestry. Got the papers right here.”
Pieter looked at him venomously. “And, let me guess. This piece of trash is his sister and that makes her family too?”
The old man shrugged. “Great grand great aunt” said José.
Pieter made a guttural sound in his throat. “Fine. Play your games. But be warned I’ll take it out on these two in blood.”
“Actually,” said M’Elise slowly. “Squirrel is my sister.” Squirrel looked at her in surprise.
“No, no. Enough. It ends here” said Pieter.
“Check her passport. She is an official member of the Muskcat tribe of Port Royale.”
“You don’t look like you are a Port Royale native.”
M’Elise continued. “My father’s second wife comes from the Muskcat tribe as well, so by tribal law she’s my sister.”
“I’m not sure the co-op recognizes tribal law…”
“And I’m her husband,” announced O’Riley, putting his arm around Squirrel’s waist and squeezing.
“What?” said Pieter, totally stupefied.
“I blessed the union myself” said the old man.
“We’re undergoing trial separation” said Squirrel, unwinding O’Riley’s arm from her waist.
Pieter trembled in rage at them. The old man finished his glass and handed it to a guard, who took it reflexively. “Can we go now?”
Pieter clenched his jaw. “Let them get their things, then give them a cavity search.” The old man cleared his throat. “A virtual cavity search.”