Pirates of the Outrigger Rift (11 page)

“Being on the run and all, the destination surprises me. That
takes us back coreward into Manspace. I’d be headed toward the Outyonder. Okay,
now the tricky part. Why?”

Sai took a deep breath. “I’m paying you well enough that I
shouldn’t have to answer any questions.”

“Maybe so, if this were some leisurely cruise, but I had to
kill three men down there. That makes me part of this for good or for bad. I
guess I’m just stupid, but I threw my lot in with you. I do that sometimes. Call
it a character flaw. But now that we’re in this together, you owe me an
explanation, lady, and a piece of the action.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything boils down to money. If someone is willing to
foot the bill for a hit team to take you out, then you must be worth the effort.”

Sai laughed. “You want a cut, you got it. But if I tell you
what I’ve got, you’ll regret it.”

“Try me.”

“I believe that I have an answer to the riddle that Nebulaco
would pay a year’s profit to solve. I have the goods on the person behind every
major hijacking and caravan raid against Nebulaco for the past three years.”

“Thorne?” Hank said.

“You got it.”

Hank slumped in his chair. “Crap. We’re dead.”

CHAPTER NINE

R
ead that transmission back to me again,” Hank Jensen said.
He stood rubbing his temples, leaning on the back of his pilot's chair.

 “Fifty-thousand-credit reward for information leading to
the apprehension of Sai Collins, wanted for theft, assault, and espionage. Last
seen leaving the Raken System traveling with Hank Snow Jensen, free-trader and
known petty criminal. Authority Vincent Maxwell, Director, Nebulaco Security
Service.” Elsa’s synthesized voice echoed in the cockpit.

Hank shook his head. “Petty? Really? Never.”

“I would have assumed you’d be more upset about the criminal
part,” Sai said. “Or maybe the price-on-our-heads part.” She sat sideways
across the copilot's seat, swinging her booted feet back and forth nervously.

Hank shrugged. “We’ve all done a few things, but petty? I
find that insulting. That and I can’t tell you how mad I am that they used my
middle name. I never use it. Now everyone is gonna call me Snowman, and Snow Job,
and God knows what else.”

They were en route to Trent with the
Elsa
straining
for as much speed as she could manage. They were on track to reach a refueling
stop on an outpost planet called Jonesy in about six hours, but to Hank, it
couldn’t be soon enough.

“I suppose I shouldn’t care since, after all, we’re dead as
sure as if the necrocytes were gnawing at our bones. That broadcast was sent to
every ship and port in this sector. I should have known better. Never trust a
pretty face.” He sat down heavily and bent over the navigation station to
verify their position.

“I’m not going to say I told you so,” Elsa’s voice droned.

“Well, that’s great, because it wouldn’t help and it would
just piss me off.”

Sai frowned and pointed a finger at Hank. “All I need from
you,” she looked upward, “either of you, is a ride from planet A to planet B,
no special favors. You don’t have to involve yourself any further. Someone asks
questions, you just tell them you don’t know anything.”

“Do you honestly think that they’d let it go with that?
Nebulaco put a price on my head, so I won’t be able to do business anywhere in
this sector, and Thorne surely won’t let anyone live who knows his secrets.”

“Technically, the price is on
my
head. Still, the
data is secured and untouched. I haven’t opened the courier package.”

“They won’t care. They’ll fry you—and me. Don’t think that
hiding in the Outyonder will last long, what with everyone after you. Greed is
universal. Besides, Trent is in the wrong direction. We’re heading
into
Manspace. More regulations, better customs screening.”

“I have a plan,” Sai said.

“You’d better have a good one because from here things don’t
seem to be working so well,” Hank said.

“Really? Well, genius, what would you do?”

“Well, for starters, since we’re both effectively doomed
anyway, why don’t you tell me the truth—all of it. The whole story from start
to finish. Maybe we can figure a way out of this mess together.” Hank looked
deeply into her eyes. “I’m not going to abandon you. We just need to focus and
figure out what to do.”

Sai considered it for a moment. She was always hesitant to
trust others. But, in spite of his arrogant, childish ways, she truly liked
Hank. She knew he wasn’t afraid of a fight and from what she’d seen, he was a
great pilot. She needed an ally.

“Okay,” she said, “but I don’t think it’ll help.” She stood,
and she paced as she talked, her arms folded. She told him about her new life
on Nebula Prime, getting the job at Nebulaco that seemed like a windfall, obtaining
the datastore from Kendrick, and the failed exchange after Hank had transported
her to Raken. Finally, she told him about going to see Dirion.

“So this Dirion guy, he’s an oracle?”

Sai nodded. “He was. He’d been on Raken for over forty
years. He had a massive network established. Everyone came to him when they needed
help—” Her voice cracked. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m sorry—it’s just
that, for all practical purposes he was my father.” She was angry at herself
for crying in front of a stranger, but that only made the tears harder to stop.

“He took me off the streets when I was a kid. He knew I was
a cyber-psi before I did. I couldn’t have figured it out without his help. He
helped me develop my gift, made me believe I could be somebody.”

“Just one second,” Hank said. He reached under the pilot’s
console and opened a panel, withdrawing a cold canned beverage. “You want a
beer?”

Sai nodded and wiped a tear from her eye.

“Here you go,” he popped the top and handed it to her, then
opened one for himself and took a drink. “So what exactly is on the datastore?”

“I don’t know. It’s still sealed.”

“Then how do you know it’s full of Thorne’s secrets?”

“I trust Dirion. I think he came to that conclusion based on
the identities of the interested players, the involvement of Nebulaco, the
ferocity of the response. It’s somehow also tied into the recent death of
Nebulaco’s former security director.”

Hank silently let the words sink in for a moment then took a
sip of his beer. “So what’s your plan?”

“Well, actually it’s Chandler’s plan. He said if I couldn’t
make the drop, I should go to Trent and give the information to Lord Randol.”

“And this lord is going to offer you protection?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Sai said. “But it seems like my
best shot. He’s the one Chandler was working for. Since Nebulaco has been hit
so hard by piracy, it makes sense that he would be eager to get the datastore.
The other thing is that it would be hard for the Security Service to say that I
was trying to steal data when I turned it in to a lord.”

Hank grumbled to himself for a few minutes. Randol was known
to be on the lighter side of crazy … for a lord. “Well, it is what it is.
We’ll be at Jonesy soon, and from there it’s not that far to Trent. I’m good
with your plan for now.”

“In the meantime,” Sai said, “you wouldn’t object if I
picked up a little around here, would you? Because it’s either that or I’ll
have to spend the rest of the trip in the airlock. I could stand the short trip
to Raken, but this place is too filthy to endure longer than that.”

“Suit yourself, but it’ll just get dirty again after you
clean it—and don’t move any of the stuff in my cabin! I have it all organized.”
With that he finished his beer, crushed the can on his head, and tossed it into
the corner with the others.

“Hank, if I had hands I’d slap you,” Elsa said.

“What did I say?”

Chandler had to admit that he liked working for Randol. It
carried with it certain perks and privileges. He was able to use the corporate
holo communication system at no cost and Randol had paid for Chandler to
install a unit in his ship; it
was
work related after all. He needed to
be in many places at the same time in order to press his investigation as quickly
as possible.

Randol set up a meeting with Vincent Maxwell, who would
never have given Chandler an appointment otherwise. The quality of the holo
unit was fantastic. It was more than just a projection. It was a virtual-reality
unit, transmitting sight, sound, and even touch to Chandler’s senses. Walking
toward the security director’s desk, he felt and heard his footsteps echo as if
he were actually physically present on Nebula Prime.

He took a look around him. The office was designed more for
show than for work. The art was the sort that people said they liked because it
was tasteful. Chandler thought it was god-awful ugly, like gilded turds. The
music wasn’t much better.

Maxwell sat reclining behind his oversized desk, bathed in a
pool of soft light, waiting for Chandler to approach. The rest of the room was
shadowy except for spots of illumination here and there that made the shitty art
look even worse.

Maxwell was just the type that annoyed Chandler by
breathing. He exuded a smug, superior attitude that made you want to knock out
his pretty white teeth. Chandler took an immediate dislike to him.

He displayed those teeth in a salesman’s smile when Chandler
finally reached the desk. Maxwell stood and made a slight bow. “Good to meet
you, Detective.”

Chandler looked at him like he was a dead rat. “Charmed. I
suppose you know why I’m here.”

Maxwell casually sat back down. “Yes. Lord Randol seems to
think that a fresh perspective might be of help in our investigation.”

Chandler planted his holographic butt on Maxwell’s stylish
desk.

Maxwell’s smile strained.

Chandler looked closer at Maxwell. The tanned complexion,
the touch of gray at the temples, the suit that cost more than Chandler’s
annual income. Yeah, it was official, Chandler decided. This guy was an
asshole.

“You don’t agree?”

“I don’t have to, Mr. Chandler. I serve the corporation.”

“Then I suppose Randol has already explained to you that he
expects you to cooperate.”

“He encouraged me to help you, but you must understand that
although Lord Randol is a member of the Council of Lords, he does not—”

“Save it. I really don’t care.”

Maxwell didn’t bother to keep up the smile. His lips turned
into a tight grimace. “What is it that you want to know, Detective?”

“Well, for starters, why do you think Casey was dirty?”

 “I don’t see what that has to do with Randol’s daughter.”

“Well, I’m just curious. If Casey was the leak, and he’s
dead, how did Thorne get the information he needed to ambush the
Aurelius
?
Seems to me like you still have a problem unrelated to Casey.”

Maxwell shook his head. “The trip had been scheduled for
some time. I’m sure that this had been in the works for a while. Suffice to say
that there has been a dramatic reduction in attacks in the last few days. I
think that speaks volumes.”

“Still, if you had been doing your job, she wouldn’t have
been abducted,” Chandler said.

He leaned in close to Maxwell’s face, invading his space. Maxwell
didn’t move, but even though it was only a holo, Chandler knew he wanted to.

“Mr. Chandler. I agree. I take my responsibilities
seriously. I was foolish not to insist that all the travel plans for corporate
VIPs be rerouted. I am sickened by my failure. But all I can do at this point
is try to move forward and assist in getting her back.”

Chandler backed away and stood up. “Okay, tell me everything
you know about the attack on the
Aurelius
.”

“Yesterday, while in transit from the Trent System to Driscoll
University on Corona, the
Aurelius
stopped midflight. We’re not sure
what disabled it, possibly a plasma torpedo. There was a brief distress call,
which I can provide to you, but there really isn’t much on it. Simply that they
were being attacked. We believe the ship was boarded, but one man escaped in a
life pod. He is currently recovering in a hospital outpost. I will have the
details sent to you. Beyond that, we’ve heard nothing. The ship hasn’t been
recovered.”

“Don’t you find it a bit unusual that out of all the
intergalactic transports, Lord Randol’s daughter happened to be targeted?”

“That’s a broad assumption, Detective. I would think that
any luxury yacht would be a target for pirates.”

“You don’t think it’s significant? That perhaps more than
simple profit is involved here? A man like Thorne holding the daughter of a
corporate lord has a lot of leverage.”

“He certainly does. But until we hear the kidnapper’s
demands, we are in the dark as to their motivations.”

“Seems like you’re doing a lot of sitting around waiting. What
are you planning to do proactively?”

Maxwell glared at Chandler. “When I first accepted
employment here, Thorne was a minor problem. He had hit a few scattered
transports, but he was a manageable threat. I asked Casey and the lords to
provide me funding for more escort fighters and better security, but at the
time they felt their money could be better spent elsewhere. Casey made sure of
that. It took them too long to realize that with every ship Thorne raided, his
power and resources grew.
I
didn’t create the problem,
they
did,
and now that I’m security director, I’m left to deal with it. Don’t tell me I’m
not doing my job. Without me this corporation would have fallen long ago.”