Captive of Pleasure; the Space Pirate's Woman (The LodeStar Series) (23 page)

“We, however, need to meet,” he told them. “A confab. I want everyone there. Not partners, just crew.”

A short time later, Joran leaned against the counter in his tont. The inner walls had been retracted, the bed folded back against the wall. Every square meter of space held one of his crew, all watching him, waiting.
 

The girl was somewhere in camp, occupied and out of his way.

He began with no preamble. “You all know Cerul, commander of IGSF on Frontiera, has her thumb right where she wants it,” he said. “Up my ass. We hit the slave auction at the Pinnacles, we alerted the epaulets to come in, sweep up as many of the buyers and slaver gang as they could catch. And you all know that in gratitude, our friends with the blue stripes offered to charge us with trafficking, even murder of the rescues that were killed.”

Crew members shifted, some muttering angrily.

Joran nodded. “Cerul thinks she’s got us right where she wants us—between an asteroid and a hard landing. She wants us to do her dirty work for her. Including infiltrating the slavers.”

“The fuck?” Pede muttered, scowling incredulously at Joran. “I ain’t havin’ nothin’ to do with scum like that.”

“Who here does she think is fool enough to try that?” Wega added, eye-stalks jerking with agitation. “They already know we stole from ‘em. How the hells would we infiltrate?”

There were several nods and some murmurs of agreement.

“You’re right,” Joran said. “So here’s the deal. We don’t try to sneak in. We make the bold move—we tell ‘em we’re taking over the trade on this side of the planet.”

Qala stared at him, clearly aghast. “Let everyone think we’ve sunk to a level where we traffic in flesh?” She shook her head vehemently. “I can’t even believe you’re talking about this.”

Joran set his jaw as others echoed her sentiment.

Haro held up one hand for quiet. He faced Joran. “Boss, you haven’t steered us wrong yet. But how we gonna do this and not
do this
? How we gonna wade in shit and not stink of it?”

“Who the hells cares how we smell?” called Tarn, a grizzled ex-soldier with one good eye and one mechanical. “I fought in the Solar Wars, gave an eye and these—” he held up his right hand, with mechanical fingers implanted, “—and what’d I get? A fucking medal. That’s all. Alliance doesn’t give a shit for me—I gotta do for myself. I say we do it, and keep the fucking profits, too.”

“I like it,” added Ryder. “Why not let the IGSF think we’re helpin’ them while we help ourselves? Slave trade’s gonna happen, one way or the other. Might as well line our credit accounts as others.”

Some nodded, while others scowled and shook their heads. Voices rose as they argued.

“It’s only gonna happen here if we turn our heads the other way,” Qala snapped. “And this crew is above that. We always have been, and as long as I’m around, that’s not gonna change.”

Ryder scowled, his face flushed under his tan. “I didn’t mean let ‘em go, exactly. But why can’t we do like you did at the auction? Take their credit and
then
turn ‘em over to the IGSF.”

“It’s more than just smellin’ like shit,” Pede said, his square face grim. “Your rescue talked to my woman—told her some things she saw while she was in their cages. These slavers are fuckin’ insane—I mean viper-poison crazed. We mess with them, we may get bit.”

Joran lifted his chin in acknowledgement of Pede’s words, but didn’t reply. It wasn’t as if they had a choice but to reach into the serpents’ den.

Joran straightened. “All right. Some of you have been with me a few months, some of you a lot longer. I’m not gonna sweeten it. I don’t see a way out of this, other than turning tail and running, clear off this planet.
 

He looked around, making eye contact with all of them. “No one is making me run. No one. So, I say we do this. Figure six weeks on the outside, maybe less. If you’re with me, if you can stomach the rest of the planet, maybe the galaxy, thinking you’re dirty for that long, stay. If not, go. I’ll make sure you leave with your share of the credit from the Pinnacles auction.”

“Now, we’re done here. Those of you who decide to stay, we’ll meet again tonight after supper, I’ll let you in on the plan I’ve got so far, you can give me your ideas. The sooner we start, the sooner we get done, and get Cerul out of our asses.”

“And one more thing,” he added. “If you leave, you do it as a group. You head straight to F City. Can’t have anyone wandering alone, getting taken for ransom.”

Or spilling their guts about his plan, but plenty of time to let them know they’d be sequestered under guard until the deal was finished.

Qala was the first one out the door. She gave Joran a look of searing disbelief and then stormed out.

***

“Qala.” Haro caught her as she rounded the last of the tonts on the river bluff. She stopped in the shade of the trees, staring unseeingly at the golden water swirling past.

“I can’t believe he’d do this,” she choked. “I thought I knew him better.”

Haro grabbed her arm and pulled her around. His face was pale under his tan, his gaze turbulent.
 

“Babe,” he said. “I know it’s harsh, but you’re not thinkin’ straight.”

“I’m not—?” she gaped at him, her mouth open. “He’s the one who’s gone quarking crazy!”

He shook his head impatiently and leaned down, his eyes boring into hers. “Think about it, Qala. What was the result in there?”

“He pissed us all off?” she asked sarcastically.
 

“Yeah, most of us. He also found out who thinks this shit is a great idea, and they’re happy to get down there and wallow in it, long as they make some credit.”

“Oh,” she muttered. “He exposed the weak links.”

He squeezed her arms and let go. “Right, babe. Think about it—who’s mad enough to laser him right now? You, Riley, Wega, Pede, Mako... Var’s holding back, but that’s just him, he trusts Stark absolutely.”

She grimaced. “Shit, so do I. You’re right. The core. A few parts may be rotten, but the core is strong. Ryder, who knows? He’s young, he could go either way.”
 

She gave him a shame-faced look. “Thanks. I was just so damn mad.”

His gaze softened. “I’d think less of you if you weren’t, babe.”

She flushed and looked away. “Well, you sure figured it out a lot faster than me.” She’d never given him credit for being so astute.
 

“Because you’re a female,” he said. “You can’t help getting all emotional.” Then he laughed and danced away as she swung at him.

“Asshole,” she said, but without heat.

“Yours, anytime you want it.”

She smacked his arm as she walked by. “Keep your pants on, fool, we’ve other things to do.”

“Yeah, and it ain’t gonna be pleasant.” He fell into step with her, back toward camp.

Qala cast him a sidelong look. “No, but it’ll be all right, if we stick together. Better than, y’know...”

He nodded. “Better than splitting up. I think so too, babe. But just so you know, if you’d gone, I would’ve been right behind you.”

Then he walked on through camp and left her standing there, gaping after him like a fool.

Qala snapped her mouth shut and looked around, embarrassed. But no one was paying her any mind, they were all in small knots of intense conversation, or in their tonts, breaking the news to their partners.
 

She felt punch drunk, as if she was back at the barbecue, downing cold ale. Hells of a day it was turning out to be and it was still morning.
 

***

Zaë spent the morning by the cata pens. It was cool in the shade of the spreading trees, and only one of the teen girls, May, was there with the boys this time. She smiled shyly at Zaë.

Zaë made friends with the mother cata and was allowed to pet the little one and even feed it from the pac of protein meal. She laughed as the creature butted its sleek head against her in a demand for more.

“You’re good with them,” said Tomo, the older of the two boys. “Want to go for a ride later?”

His partner elbowed him, and he flushed. Zaë smiled at both boys. “I would like to ride, if it won’t be an imposition. Although I’m not sure I’ve ever ridden before.”

“We can teach you. It’s easy.”

The younger boy, Yan, grinned. “Says the man who’s been bucked off more times than we can count. He’s broken his clavicle, his—“

Tomo shoved him. “Shut up. That was my little brother. Even you’ve been bucked off more than me.”

“They’re both good riders,” May told Zaë. “But the catas are twisty. Everyone falls off once in a while—except the Storm, of course.”

Zaë narrowed her eyes. “I would like to ride.” She would practice and become very good at it, and then she’d ride past the Storm and spare him a cool glance. She smiled at this agreeable vision.

“You can start in the pen,” Tomo said. “Come on.”

He showed her how to pass safely throught the crackling energy barrier.
 

Sitting on the back of a cata was exhilarating and a little frightening at first, but Zaë quickly found her balance, and learned to cling with her legs and just hold lightly to the pommel of the small saddle. Then she was allowed to take the reins.
 

Her mount promptly dumped her on the ground. She lay in the bed of dropped leaves and damp earth and blinked at the sky. “Ouch,” she muttered.

At least she hadn’t landed in a pile of manure. She struggled up and climbed back on, determined this time to pay more attention to the cata’s ears and demeanour.

***

The supply transports landed that afternoon. The huge crafts settled on the plain behind camp, and in a short time, the occupants were streaming out to meet them.
 

Zaë went with Nera, walking a bit stiffly after her riding lesson that morning. She’d showerdried the dirt and cata from herself, changed back into the dull but clean oatmeal ensemble and used a gesic pad on her worst bruise.

She didn’t bother chatting up the transport crews. She’d had time to think about her nebulous plan to catch a ride out of the camp. For now, leaving would do her absolutely no good, because she didn’t have the faintest idea where to go or what to do when she got there.
 

Maddening as the Storm was, he was at least protecting her from this wild new world on which she was lost. However, she reflected with some satisfaction, she had learned one thing—she could speak her mind and survive. He might get angry enough that those eyes shot silver sparks, but all he did was glare. And she had freedom here—she could make friends, learn new skills such as riding and spend as much time outdoors as she liked.

Soon, very soon, she would make another attempt at capturing her memories. And then she would thank him for his protection and walk away, head high.

The mood around the transports was ebullient. Everyone who wasn’t on guard duty crowded into the shade of the lifted hatches and walked up into the huge bays to view the crates and stacks of goods and foodstuffs. They haggled with the vendors, called to each other, laughing and talking as if they hadn’t seen each other in days.

Nera warned her about letting any of the transport pilots or their assistants get too familiar. “They have an eye for pretty girls,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t let them get you alone behind their craft. The Storm has warned them, but I don’t trust them.”

Zaë nodded, but after surveying the pilots and crew, she had to hide a smile. The transport crew’s flirting seemed designed more to sell their wares than anything else.

Zaë carried a capacious embroidered bag. She’d been instructed to stay within Nera’s sight, but to go ahead and choose anything that took her fancy, for Stark to purchase. Of course she wouldn’t follow this lack of stricture. A lady wasn’t greedy.
 

The scene was strangely not unfamiliar. She had a hazy vision of herself, walking through another market with two older males, one slim and blond, the other stout and dark, both busy selecting and haggling while she wandered close by. Of holding up a plump melon for their perusal and receiving an approving nod.
 

Then the other scene vanished, leaving her in the present, alone in the crowd except for Nera. Who had the men been? The feeling the memory brought was of comfort, closeness, and acceptance.
 

She waited by Nera’s side, massaging her aching temples until she felt steadier. Clothing—she’d been instructed to buy clothing. The second transport contained a crate which had been opened to display womens clothing, including underthings.
 

Just as she reached for a pretty set of soft knit panties, however, they were snatched from her grasp. She looked up, startled and irritated, into the sneering gaze of Stark’s blonde.
 

“These are mine, bitch,” the woman said under her breath. “Stark will love them on me.”

Zaë looked her over. “I’m sorry, but these are clearly not your size.” The blonde’s breasts and bottom were both bigger than hers.