Captive of Pleasure; the Space Pirate's Woman (The LodeStar Series) (13 page)

Now they were getting to the point.
 

“Obedience?” Joran allowed himself a real smile. “You want that, go buy yourself a pet.”

The IGSF commander smiled too, only she did it in a way that showed it was at a joke only she enjoyed. Joran’s skin crawled. Fucking hells, she truly believed she had the upper hand here.

“I don’t need a pet,” she said. “What I need is an operative. With your actions yesterday, and those of your crew, you proved your suitability. So you have been selected for the task.”

“Operative?” Qala repeated. “What the quark does that mean? Sounds like a droid or something.”

The commander cocked her head as if considering the idea. Then she smiled at Qala. It was not a reassuring sight.

“Perhaps so, if you mean that the operative obeys commands.”

Joran shook his head once. “I don’t obey anyone. And these people here? They answer to me, no one else.”

Cerul shook her head back at him in mock regret. “Not anymore, sorry. That is, unless you wish to face charges of...let me see, what were they?” She consulted a holochart floating above her desk. “Oh, yes. First, attending an illegal slave auction for the purposes of trafficking in sentient beings, an offense punishable by three years hard labor or time on Deep Six.”
 

“Second, obtaining seventeen of those sentient beings for purposes unknown—not that your purpose was important. What matters is that it occured. Finally, causing the deaths of those seventeen beings and one socio-religious worker and one crewman through negligence. Multiple counts of manslaughter at the least, or if I feel so inclined, murder.”

She sat back, eyeing him avidly.

Outside the tent, a catamount screamed. Children ran past, shouting at play. The late morning breeze lifted the airflap at the apex of the tont and sent a puff of warm air rustling through their midst.
 

Inside the tont, it was very still. His crew sat frozen around him, none of them moving so much as an eyelash. He could always count on them not to break in a tough situation. Joran held his relaxed stance as well, not giving her the satisfaction of seeing that this charge had struck home with laser precision.
 

She really was one of the coldest bitches he’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. And she clearly got off on her power as the commander of Frontiera IGSF.
 

Joran answered her, his voice even and just as cold. “That’s skrog shit, and you know it. Just as you know my people actually alerted the IGSF to the auction in the first place. Those seventeen beings who died? Rescues, headed for F City with Sister Lettie from the Mission there.
 

“And by the way, you don’t seem too sliced by her loss, Cerul, but she was a loss for Frontiera. She was a good woman, and she’ll be missed by plenty here. What she was not was someone who would blame my pilot for failing to get away from pirates, since he was in peaceful transport and they were in an unmarked surplus O’gren fighter. They attacked my ship without provocation. I don’t see you ready to press charges for that.
 

“We also all know that neither I nor my crew are in the slave trade, nor ever have been. So why don’t we cut the skrog shit, Aqa. What is your real purpose for calling this little fun fest?”

“That’s enough of your disrespect,” the male officer called, his face ruddy with anger. He held his laser weapon trained on Joran. “You will refer to the commander by her proper title.”

The female officer set her hand on her own weapon, although she didn’t draw it. Her gaze darted from Joran to his crew, her face pale.
 

“You gonna shoot one of us over something that piddly, boy?” Riley rasped. “If so, you’re a fine lap pet for your commander, but you’re not much of a soldier for the Alliance. I fought a war to be free of that kind of thing.”

“Not to mention you’d be dead in two secs,” Qala added. “Both of you.”

“Stand down, Arc,” Mecham said from the side of her mouth.

Cerul waved her hand. “Never mind, officers. I will simply remind Stark that should any harm befall my officers, the perpetrators will be punished to the full extent and this entire camp placed under martial law.”

“Right,” Joran said. “Your boy keeps his weapon holstered, we’ll do the same. Now get to your purpose so we can get on with our day.”

“It’s quite simple, really. I need you and a few of your most trusted, er, crew to infiltrate the slave traders.”

Joran stared at her, his mind buzzing with static. “To do
what
?”

She nodded regally. “The IGSF is going to put the slave trade out of business, and you’re going to help.”

“You’re out of your mind. The IGSF can’t police every corner and hidey-hole in the galaxy.”

 
Cerul laughed, a light, cold sound. “Oh, you mistake me, Stark. I don’t care about the far corners of the galaxy. But I want those flesh merchants off this planet. Those we don’t capture and put to death will scatter like cockroaches. I don’t care where they go as long as they’re not operating here. Frontiera is mine.”

Gazing into her deep, cold blue eyes, a chill ran down Joran’s spine. He ignored it for now, because that’s how a man survived when he was about to fly straight into a wall of ice unless he changed his course. He did what had to be done to keep his ship in the sky. Later he’d consider the notion that this woman truly considered Frontiera her playground.

“And you think you can blackmail me into helping you.”

“I know I can.”
 

“Well, sorry, but you’re wrong about that,” he said with satisfaction. Hells, this problem was over already. “My crew and I can be gone before you blink,” he said. “And your troops will waste all their time hunting us, instead of the real criminals. That what you want?”

“You would hide from the law?” She widened her eyes in mock disbelief.

He shrugged. “If the law is now about harassing me and my people, yes. And not a damn thing you can do about it.”
 

Not the way he wanted to go, but if necessary they could split up for a while until the IGSF tired of chasing them. Or even move on, settle into lives of outward respectability while carrying on in secret. All good things came to an end, and even the biggest storms blew themselves out.

“I suppose that’s true,” she said. Then she smiled again. “On the other hand, your brothers are not so...mobile, are they, Mr. Stark? LodeStone Mines can be shut down, buried under a barrage of litigation. So can the operations of LodeStar Enterprises on Frontiera. What a shame if the great Stark brothers lost everything they worked so hard to build here.”

For a moment, silence filled the tont, like the absolute calm after a huge clap of thunder.

Joran unfolded from his chair, moving with precision and care to keep himself from exploding into action so terrible it could never be taken back. His lieutenants rose beside him, facing the commander and her officers in an adamant line.
 

“Well,” Joran drawled. “Got to hand it to you, Cerul. You go after what you want, stepping on the backs of whomever’s in the way to get it. In fact, I reckon that inside a year’s time, you’ll be the most hated being on this planet.”

Her nostrils flared, her eyes narrowed. Then she smoothed her expression, this time with a visible effort. “I care nothing for your petty jibes, Stark. And you’re wrong. I will be admired as the commander who brings law and order to this planet. That’s what the citizens want. With the satcom system, the pirates who used to hide out here are gone—I will get rid of all the others who think to do their foul business here.”

This he knew was not entirely true. There were still pirates here; they’d just gotten better at blending in, hiding.
 

“You should have gone with them,” she added. “Since you were unwise enough to remain, I will use you.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “My officers will give you your instructions for now. Be ready to serve the Alliance, Joran Stark.”

The holovid winked out.

Stark turned his flat stare on her officers. Arc swallowed but tried to stare him down while Mecham waited, stoic but pale. This meant she was the more intelligent of the two. She realized that her commander had just armed a nuclear charge and left the two of them sitting on it with no way off and no immediate help.

“You two are safe here,” Joran said. “Doesn’t mean I want to look at you right now. You have the run of the camp but keep your noses out of our business. I’ll talk to you when I’m ready. Now get out.”

Arc opened his mouth again. Mecham jostled him, hard. “Yes, sir. We’ll be waiting.”

Joran strode from the tont. The sun was high and hot, but he welcomed the slap of heat on his head and shoulders. He stalked down the aisle of the camp, not stopping until he had reached the edge of the bluff overlooking the river.
 

Qala, Haro and Var went with him.
 

“Wish I could strangle that cunt with my bare hands,” Qala hissed through her teeth.

“I’d help you,” Haro said instantly, his voice shaking. “Who the fuck does she think she is?”

Joran let their fury wash over him, cooling his own so he could think and plan.

“There are two kinds of beings we should fear the most,” he said. “Those who are evil and those who believe standing on the moral high ground gives them the right to do anything they wish. She’s the latter, thinks she has might
and
right.”

“So she can do wrong to do right,” Var said. “
Fuck
that.”

“It isn’t that so much,” Joran said. “Hells, you could say that about us. But at least we don’t hide behind the law and pretend we’re not doing it.”

Var grinned crookedly. “Hypocrisy being the worst sin of all?”

“In this case, yeah. The bitch is casting threats far and wide.”

“You’d better alert your brothers,” Qala said. “So they can be on guard.”

“From what I hear about Creed Forth and Logan Stark,” Haro said, “Cerul’s messing with the wrong men.”

Qala huffed a laugh. “Good point. Like tourists teasing the giant scorpions on Qadalite, then finding out they can move fast as light.”

Haro grimaced. “Yeah, thanks for that image. Gah, hate insects. One of the best things about these plains is the crawlers and flyers are all small. At least the ones I’ve seen.”

“Green ants pack a mean punch though. Had a bite on my ass last week that stung like fire,” she muttered.

“Better let me look at that,” he offered. “I’ll inspect the area, make sure everything’s okay.”

“In your dreams, immi-boy.”

“Every night, babe.”

Joran ignored them, knowing they were letting off steam, waiting for him to think this through.
 

Cerul would expect him to contact Creed and Logan. Indeed, the sadistic bitch was slavering over this, waiting to hear that they’d complained to the Alliance, so she could slam the IGSF shield down and muzzle them. She wouldn’t hesitate to impose martial law. Hell, she craved it.

So their best play was to go on with their lives, as casually as if no threat loomed. Enjoying life. That, she’d hate.

Chapter 9

Alone on the river bank, one of Ilya’s security screens fuzzing faintly around him to block anyone who might want to eavesdrop on his transmission, Joran told his story to Creed via holovid. It was not a pleasant experience. He waited, outwardly casual, but heat flushed the taut skin over his cheekbones, and he had to resist the impulse to fidget.
 

“Sorry to drag you into this shit,” he said. “I cruised right in—that’s mine to deal with. But now you’re in it too. Never saw that happening.”

Joran’s younger brother shocked him by winking solemnly. “Brother, I’ve been in trouble far worse than this. You have no idea the messes my Zhen brethren dragged my sorry ass out of. Things have pretty quiet around here lately—reckon it was time for a good dustup.”

“Cerul gets her way, it’ll be more than a dustup,” Joran pointed out. “The bitch will shut your mine down
and enjoy doing it. Ruin your business while pretending she’s watching out for the safety of Frontieran citizens.”

“I might have something to say about that,” Creed drawled. “Not without skills. Also, Taara and I may live out here in the back of beyond, but I do have friends. I’m not the only one of the brethren who left the order. Some went on to take positions with the IGSF, and there’s even one on the Alliance council.”

“Holy hells.” Joran’s brows shot up.

Creed grinned. “I may be your little bro, but I’ve been grown up for a few years, Joran.”

“That’s true. I guess I just remember when.”

Creed sobered, his azure gaze intent. “So do I, Jor. And what I remember is you going after men twice your age and size—for me. I won’t ever forget that. And I don’t mind returning the favor whenever and however.”

Joran shook his head. “Logan was the one who saved the both of us. All I did was get myself in trouble.”

Creed shook his head. “You were just a kid against adults who had blades. I might not have lived long enough for anyone to save me if you hadn’t jumped in.”