Pirates of the Outrigger Rift (24 page)

Vincent Maxwell sat in his office and felt like he owned the
universe. Nothing could stop him now. He couldn’t wait to see the looks on
their faces when he stepped forward as the proxy representative of a group of buyers
with the largest block of Nebulaco stock in existence. Then Randol would fully
understand.

He’d be able to placate Oke and Hemming. He would simply
explain that he had only accepted the request because it would have been awful
to consider an outsider on the council. He was going to humbly accept because
it was better for the corporation. Unfortunately, he would have to resign his
position as security director if he became a lord. Luckily, he already had a
replacement in mind from his organization. The lords would accept because to
fight would require too much effort, although he was sure it would pain them at
times when he outvoted them.

Fools, he thought. They should actually be happy. Ultimately,
they would benefit from his leadership. He had already made inroads with other
corporations using his intelligence network. Key people in the right positions
would provide shipping information to be targeted by Glenn. He would repeat the
process for each megacorporation in turn.

Nebulaco would be exempt from attack. Their profits would
rise, and the value of Nebulaco stock would soar. He would become more rich and
powerful, and even those fools on the board would be richer than ever before.
That was all right because he would be the one in total control of the
corporation. Let them have their comfy mansions and easy lives. They were of no
consequence to him.

Then there was the matter of the datalifter, the pilot, and
the egotistical detective. If all went well, even that matter would be resolved
soon. The detective was financially strapped enough that he just might come
through. It would be ideal if Chandler tied all of them together in one nice neat
package, ripe for slaughter. He would call to ask for his payment, and Maxwell
would send Glenn to dispose of them.

And who knows? The detective might just deliver them
directly to Maxwell. That would be even better. Maxwell opened his desk drawer
and removed a blaster. He extended it toward empty space and sighted along its
length. He’d cleaned it after using it on Frederick Casey. He could clean it
again after using it on the detective, pilot, and datalifter.

Sometimes, there’s no substitute for doing a job yourself,
he thought. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago when he’d had a different
name.

He’d been born Roger Chow. He never knew his father, and his
mother was a stim addict who had cast him out at the age of eight. He’d picked
pockets to survive the deadly back alleys of Empire City until he’d learned to
bust heads. But his muscles weren’t his primary assets. His mind was always
working on a better way. Soon, he was in charge of a street gang. They moved
from muggings and petty theft to protection rackets, drugs, and prostitution. He
was on top of the world, his world.

But no matter what he accomplished, it was never enough. So
he set his sights on the megacorporations, arguably the largest and most
powerful criminal organizations in the galaxy. The only difference was that
their crimes were legal.

He knew he had the talent. All he needed was the
opportunity. He watched and waited, and then, one day, it came.

Vincent Maxwell had been a low-level exec just starting his
career at Nebulaco, excited about his transfer from Empire City to Nebula
Prime. It was a big promotion, and his future looked bright. The real Vincent
Maxwell never made it to corporate headquarters. His body was found in a
gutter. In his pocket was an identification card with his face but bearing the
name of Roger Chow; with the help of a few well-placed bribes, every record
related to Maxwell had been modified to match him.

Thus began his new career.

Maxwell shot up the ladder by displaying a talent for
locating corruption. All the while, he padded his pockets with corporate funds.
He orchestrated elaborate conspiracies in the name of Thorne and profited both
from the illegal gains and from the search for the pirate villain. At the same
time, Maxwell had kept his contacts in the underworld, never dealing with them
in his Vincent Maxwell persona.

It was the perfect plan, and it was about to reach fruition.

He keyed into his secret account at the Galactic Bank.
Surely there had been enough time for the stock transfers to have occurred.
Once that happened, he could announce himself and begin his life as Lord
Maxwell.

He pulled up the first account and froze as he looked at the
balance in the air before him.

“The money,” Maxwell whispered. “What happened to the
money?” The main menu appeared in the air before him. He raced through the
security checks and made a balance inquiry on another account. One by one he
checked them all. It was the same for all of them. Not only devoid of stocks,
but devoid of credits altogether. Every one of his accounts was completely
empty.

The glowing green zeroes hovered in the air, mocking him.

What could have happened? His mind snapped to the most
likely explanation: Randol’s datalifter, Sai Collins.

Did she do it on her own, or did Randol put her up to it?
Either way, Randol was going to suffer for this. Maxwell still needed Randol’s
daughter. But until he got his money back, he would return a piece of Helen
each day to Randol. Starting today she wouldn’t be able to count to ten.

No one messed with Maxwell and got away with it.

Hank, Sai, and Chandler reached the section of the base
adjacent to the detention area without event. It was relatively easy to avoid
contact with the pirates. The base seemed to be sparsely populated, and the
pirates didn’t seem to be particularly curious or interested in anything going
on around them.

Of course, from the pirates’ perspective, they were in the
middle of the Outrigger Rift on a hidden base. What were the chances that
someone would be able to sneak in?

Hank checked their position on the com. “If this map is
right, we need to make a cut right about here.” He stopped and pointed to the
wall.

Hank dug into their pack and pulled out a handheld
unicutter. He donned his safety goggles and flipped the unit on. A bright white
energy blade sprang from the tool. Hank set to work digging into the rock wall
while Sai and Chandler stood guard, watching down the corridor in either
direction.

The unicutter made quick work of the wall. Soon, light
spilled around the edges of the rectangular access hole Hank had created. He
clicked off the unit.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m getting ready to make the final cut. Be
ready to catch the block.”

Chandler and Sai moved into position, averting their eyes. “Go,”
Chandler said.

Hank reactivated the unit and finished the cut. The block of
stone fell free. It was heavier than any of them had expected. It slipped
through their hands, nearly falling on Sai’s foot. She jumped back to avoid
being crushed.

The stone slab crashed to the floor. The three looked at
each other. There was nothing to do but go for it.

Hank charged through the opening, pistol in hand. He turned
the corner to his left. Sai and Chandler rushed through the hole behind him.

The room they rushed into was not the cell block.

It was the galley.

And apparently, they had arrived just in time for dinner. The
room was filled to capacity with hungry pirates. This may have been why the
rest of the base had been relatively unoccupied. It appeared to be meatloaf
day.

“Oops,” Hank said. He stopped suddenly and Sai plowed into
him. “Gee, honey, I hope you remembered to call ahead for reservations.”

Sai’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

Chandler stopped behind them at the entrance. Damn Tenet! He
lied about the map. There was only one thing to do. He had to take the only
option available. He pulled his gun.

Hank looked around.

Every blaster in the room was leveled at them.

Including Chandler’s.

“Okay,” Chandler said. “Everybody calm down. Hank, Sai, go
ahead and drop your weapons.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Hank asked.

Sai looked at him, shocked.

“Nothing personal,” he said, “but you guys didn’t really
think I was stupid enough to try helping you with a jailbreak from a heavily
guarded pirate base, did you? The price on your head is enough of an incentive
to make new career plans.” Chandler looked around the room. “Who’s in charge
here? I have a deal to make.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

H
ayes, Glenn’s second-in-command, stepped forward from the pack, keeping his pistol aimed squarely between Chandler’s eyes. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

A few of the twenty or so pirates packed into the galley chuckled and kept their weapons focused on Chandler as well. The air was heavy with the knowledge that if one person popped off a shot the room would turn into a slaughterhouse.

Chandler kept his gun aimed at Hank and Sai. They both glared at him with their hands up, but he ignored them and focused on Hayes. He stepped slowly to one side and raised his empty left hand. “Everyone needs to calm down and listen to reason.”

Hayes tightened the grip on his gun. “
You
need to listen to this. Put down your weapon on the count of three or we’re going to cut you and your friends down in a mighty pretty blaze of plasma fire.” Hayes glanced around the room. “This is one hell of a firing squad. Be something to see, but a bitch to clean up. We do eat here, so I’d prefer that you drop the weapon. But, it’s your call. One … two …”

“Okay, relax,” Chandler said, putting down his blaster and rising slowly with his hands up. “Someone just go get your boss, and I’ll explain everything. Just tell him that I brought in Sai Collins and Hank Jensen. I know you’ve been trying to get them. Then you’ll have your answer. There’s a corporate bounty on these two. I figure if I turn them in to you I should get half.”

“Or what?” Hayes asked. “We could shoot you and get the full bounty; it isn’t as if we don’t already have all of you.”

“Fine,” Chandler said. It was obvious that his patience was wearing thin. “But someone go get Glenn and let me talk to him first.”

“What kind of game are you playing, Chandler?” a familiar voice said from the back of the room.

Chandler thought he recognized the voice, and when he spotted the source he grinned. “How ya doing, Brock? I guess not too well since you’re hanging out with these idiots.”

Brock leaned against the wall picking at his fingernails.

Hayes walked toward Brock, and the group of pirates opened up a path before him.

“You know this man?” Hayes asked Brock.

“We go way back,” Brock said. “That there is Mike Chandler. We were in the Confed back in the day. Tough son of a bitch. Used to be a ladies’ man. He screwed around with my woman and she left me for him. Been good friends ever since. She was one mean harpy.”

“Crazy as a shit-house rat,” Chandler said.

“But there was that thing she did with—”

“So his story is legit?” Hayes asked.

“He’s probably completely full of shit, but I can’t prove it either way. One thing, though—with Chandler it all boils down to money. You can bet he’s gonna be on the side with the deepest pockets. It’s against his nature to stick his neck out for anyone. To be honest, if there is some money to be had turning those poor fools in, then I tend to believe him.”

“All you have to do is check with your boss,” Chandler said. “Then you’ll know for sure. I can wait here or we can take these two down to the brig.”

“That’ll work,” Brock said to Hayes. “I’ll escort them
all
down to the cell block and you can put in a call to the boss.” He turned to Chandler. “Let’s get you kiddies bunked down for the night.”

“Now, Brock. This is no way to treat a friend,” Chandler said. “I’m here to make a deal.”

“Just showing you some good ol’ hospitality. Now, get a move on.” Brock motioned Chandler toward a hallway to the left.

“Wait, I don’t trust them. Take two men with you,” Hayes said.

“Whatever you say.”

Hayes pointed at two pirates who were seated at a table and had been eating for the entire duration of the standoff. “You and you. You’re on escort detail.”

“Dang it,” one of them said. He shoveled as much food into his mouth as he could and grabbed his ration of rum. He looked expectantly at his neighbor, who wore a tattered cap and was shoveling beans into his mouth as fast as he could. “Come on, Ned.”

“I ain’t done eatin’,” Ned said around a mouthful.

“Yes, you are. Let’s go.”

“Damn it, Earl, why do we always get the shit jobs?”

They rose and shuffled over to Brock, Ned still chewing.

Brock sighed. “Yeah, thanks, Hayes. I feel much safer.”

“Lead the way,” Chandler said.

Brock smiled. “Please, after you.” He directed Hank, Sai, and Chandler down a hallway. Brock fell into line behind them, flanked by Ned and Earl. They made a few turns before Hank spun and clipped Chandler across the jaw. Chandler fell into the other two pirates, taking them to the floor, Earl’s cup of rum crashing to the floor with them. Brock staggered backward, but didn’t fall.

Hank didn’t take two steps before Chandler whipped out a concealed weapon from his sleeve and shot him point-blank with an energy blast.

Sai tried to catch Hank as he fell senseless, but he was too heavy and they both fell to the floor. She glared back at Chandler. “Oh my God. You really are turning us in? How could you shoot him like that?”

“By pulling the trigger.” Chandler tucked the small weapon back under his cuff, then extended a hand. Brock helped him up from the floor.

“Just as tricky as always, I see,” Brock said.

Chandler grinned. “Some things never change, Angus.”

Sai drew Hank to her, rocking him. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Please be okay, please. I need you, Hank. I need you with me.”

“He’s fine. It was just a stunner.” Chandler said. “I picked it up years ago when I was a bouncer. It’s amazing how quickly it handles troublemakers.”

Ned and Earl scrambled to their feet. They brushed themselves off, pulled their weapons, and started toward Hank and Sai. Chandler stepped in front of them. “Whoa, guys. I don’t know what you have in mind, but to collect the full bounty, I need them alive.”

“Bastard cost me my rum for the week! We only get a little. I’d barely started it,” Earl said.

“I don’t care,” Chandler said.

“We could just shoot him in the leg or something,” Ned suggested. “That would make you feel a lot better.”

“And I could just shoot you in the face. Lower your weapons,” Chandler said.

Ned complied. Earl shifted his aim to Chandler. “Or we could shoot you,” he said with a smirk.

Chandler lunged forward and grabbed Earl’s arm, pulling him close, then suddenly side-stepped and bumped him with his hip, causing Earl to lose his balance and whirl through the air, falling with a crushing impact to the stone floor. Chandler plucked the gun out of the man’s hand, pulled the power supply, and tossed it back onto his fallen body.

Earl moaned on the ground.

“You’ve gotten slow,” Brock said. “You used to be able to lift their wallets while they were falling.”

Chandler shrugged. “I could have, but I figured it was empty. Plus I didn’t want to put my hand anywhere near that area.” Chandler leaned over to speak to Earl. “Oh, get up, you baby. We used to have to take thirty throws like that before breakfast at judo practice.”

Ned helped Earl up. Earl limped but seemed mostly okay.

“If your brainless buddies here have no more objections, I’d like to take my prized catches to the brig. The sooner they’re locked away and the calls are made, the sooner I can get paid.”

“I’ll be damned,” Brock said. “You really are turning pirate.”

Responding to the commotion, Hayes and several men came running up the hallway. “What happened?” he asked.

Brock gave him the rundown.

Hayes smiled. “Good enough for me. Go ahead and return his gun, then keep him entertained until I can set up a meeting with Glenn.”

Then Hayes left, having his men take Sai and Hank to the brig. Hank was still unconscious and had to be dragged. Sai stared at Chandler with pure hate as they took her away.

“You know, if you play your cards right, you may have quite an opportunity here. Glenn is looking for men with brains.”

“So what happened to Thorne, and how did a guy named Glenn become a pirate lord?”

Brock chuckled. “Long story, best told over a bottle.”

Glenn’s image floated above the surface of Maxwell’s desk. Maxwell sat back in his chair, his form indistinct and dark due to the stealthcloak he’d activated before making the call. He didn’t want his pirate underling to discover that he was director of Nebulaco Security. Especially one who actually seemed to possess some intelligence. Glenn was too smart for his own good. Sooner or later he was going to have to “restructure” the ranks again.

“I understand that you’ve been trying to reach me. But Glenn, before you open your mouth, I’m going to let you know that I’m not in the mood for bad news. What’s the situation?”

“Have you ever heard of a Mike Chandler?”

“Why? What do you have to tell me?”

“I may actually have some good news for you. This Mike Chandler has delivered Hank Jensen and Sai Collins to the base. He says that we should split the Nebulaco reward with him.”

Maxwell laughed. “The girl? I have the girl? Wait a minute. Where is she? You didn’t kill them, did you?”

“No sir, not yet. Should we? After all, just a few days ago you wanted them destroyed at all costs. It seems like you’re fickle when it comes to these two.”

“No! Listen carefully, Glenn. I want the girl. I want her alive. Repeat after me.
Alive
.”

“You want the girl
alive
,” Glenn repeated, obviously insulted.

“Very good. Have her sent immediately to Coulson City on Port Royal. Send me the docking berth address when you get there and I’ll have someone pick her up.”

“So what’s so important about this girl?” Glenn said, cocking an eyebrow.

“It isn’t for you to question me. You don’t get paid to think. Just do as I say.”

“Right. I’m a businessman, not a servant. My loyalty and goodwill extends about as far as yours does. And we know exactly how much goodwill was fostered on your part toward Thorne.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game. You’d better deliver the girl to me or there will be serious repercussions.” The image of the speaker, even through the subterfuge of the stealthcloak, seemed to quiver.

Glenn smiled. “Of course. Yes, sir!” He made a small salute. “You’ll have the girl as soon as is practical. We also need to determine the fate of the Randol girl. As I said, I’m a businessman, not a slaver. This quagmire of prisoners and blackmail is distasteful to me.”

“There’s a good profit in it. We both know that’s the only thing that matters,” Maxwell said.

“To you maybe. Now, what about Chandler?”

“What about him?”

“What should I do with him?”

“I would think that should be obvious,” Maxwell said.

Chandler sat in Brock’s tiny room at a small table that was carved out of the native rock. Brock pulled out a bottle of tequila, complete with worm, and two dirty glasses. Chandler figured the tequila would kill the germs, but he was worried that the worm might kill him.

Brock filled the glasses and set the bottle on the table between them. He slid a glass to Chandler, then held up his own in a toast. “To old friends,” he said.

“Wherever they may be,” Chandler said. He tapped his glass to Brock’s then took a sip. It was smooth and smoky and burned a trail of fire to his gut.