Power Play (25 page)

“Yes?” he asked. “This is a private channel. How did you gain access? You are in violation of the Intergalactic Communications and Trade Act—”

“Fiske, you two-timing maggoty imbecile. You set me up.”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the honor,” Torkel said in his stiffest military manner.

“This is Louchard speaking, Onidi Louchard. Ring a bell?”

No wonder the pirate sent Dinah O’Neill to negotiate for him! She was a damn sight easier to look at and more discreet, as well. She’d know better than to try to contact clients in their own homes. This was a definite breach of professional etiquette and he didn’t intend to stand for it.

“Not here, it damn sure doesn’t. I’m ending this trans—”

“I. Would. Not,” the Aurelian said, and Torkel remembered that the pirate was reputed to have an efficient complement of skilled assassins to eliminate those dissatisfied with Louchardian arrangements. “Now, listen to me, Fiske. You completely neglected to mention the Gentlepersons’ Agreement regarding abductions when you suggested I kidnap the Algemeine woman. You knew that ransoms are never paid by people of that ilk.”

“Your emissary,” Torkel said, managing a sneer, “should have been aware of it, since the Agreement’s a long-standing one. So that’s your error, not mine! I’m ending now.”

“No, you’re not. You wouldn’t care to entertain a visit from my termination specialists, now would you? And you will, unless you see to it that we’re compensated for our trouble in her case.”

“Compensation is your business, not mine. Why should I pay for her return?”

The pirate did something most unusual with his head, eyes, and tentacles that made Torkel’s stomach heave, and the noise it made was even more ghastly. Aurelian laughter? Then Louchard said, “There’s also the matter of Colonel Maddock-Shongili. She says—”

“I don’t care what she says. I was led to believe you were competent at what you do. Obviously I was misinformed. If you can’t get your ransoms, then kill both of them, for all I care. If you were as professional as you were said to be, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Out.”

And he clicked the comm control with great satisfaction, feeling that he’d definitely had the best of that exchange. The best of that bitch, Yanaba Maddock! And nothing to link them with her demise.

Matthew Luzon received the call from the Aurelian as he was engaged in assisting with the enlightenment of the people of Potala, who had, before company renovations, been so wasteful as to have nearly seventy percent of their populace serving as celibate clerics. Potala had set up a theocracy until the company put a stop to it, reminding the little planet that, while it might believe that killing animals was wrong and certain places were sacred, the planet was, in fact, entirely and in all respects the property of Intergal. Fortunately, so far, Potala had showed no outward inclination to join in personally on the side of its inhabitants, despite the claims of certain tenets of their religion.

Matthew was busily reinterpreting those tenets when his comm unit signaled for his attention on the company’s priority channel. A hideous Aurelian face and waving tentacles filled the screen.

“Luzon, you’ve been cutting in on enterprises that were guaranteed to us as part of our deal with you and Fiske.”

“And who might you be, brother?” Luzon asked.

“I am Louchard, captain of the
Pirate Jenny.
I have taken receipt of certain live cargo whose possession was supposed to guarantee me the right to exploit the assets of the world known as Petaybee, formerly an Intergal installation.”

“Ah, and how is the good Colonel Maddock?”

Louchard paused to indulge in a deep and nasty chuckle. “As you wished, her days are numbered. As to those associates of yours from the Asian Esoteric and Exotic Company—were you aware that they have denuded vast areas of resources that should be used for her ransom? Really, Dr. Luzon, that was not well done. Tsck, tsck. I am not at all pleased to learn that you enticed other companies and individuals to move in where I believed I had been guaranteed a monopoly on such resources, poor and insufficient as they appear to be.” Louchard chidingly waggled lateral tentacles. “Not the way to play the game with Captain Louchard, I assure you.”

“My dear Captain, I implied nothing. Your dealings, I believe, were with Captain Fiske. Any disparity in what you were promised and what you eventually obtain should be discussed with him.”

“You will not attempt to confuse the issue, Luzon. I have spoken to Fiske. He says you encouraged him to employ me to—entertain—Colonel Maddock and Madame Algemeine, misleading both him and myself as to their actual value in order to indulge a personal grudge.”

“I deny that. There was never any personal feeling of animosity on my part toward either lady, despite the physical and professional injuries they caused me. I have simply been using rather unorthodox contacts to force an issue on which I feel the company has prematurely relinquished its rights. You understand, dear captain, that the harvesters from the Asian Esoteric and Exotic Company, the shuttle service, and other fruits of the publicity I have arranged for Terraform B have simply been in the nature of covering my bets, you might say, in case you failed, as you obviously have.”

“That’s a double cross in my book, Luzon. I’m going to have to dispose of my passengers.”

No more interfering Algemeine? No more self-righteous Yanaba Maddock? Matthew couldn’t conceal his smile as he said, “You must do as you see fit, Captain.”

Ending the transmission, Yana switched off the shuttle’s comm unit and the holo image of Louchard. Sean had stationed himself with the other witnesses beyond the viewfield of the screen and now stepped forward. He put his hand on her shoulder, then leaned down to gently kiss her cheek. Marmion Algemeine and Farringer Ball, only just graduated from the hoverchair, looked extremely grim. Even Dr. von Clough appeared vastly upset.

Whittaker Fiske, whom Johnny Greene had summoned from the Intergal Station to witness the transmission, was terribly shaken. Clodagh, uncomfortable in the shuttle’s space-conserving seat, sat between Whit and Farringer Ball. She handed Whit a square of cloth, and he mopped his eyes and blew his nose before speaking in a choked voice.

“I knew Torkel was wrongheaded about Petaybee and had a grudge against Yana, but I would never have believed this of him if I hadn’t heard it for myself.” He turned tormented eyes to Clodagh. “I wish the planet had done to him what it did to those pirates and Metaxos before he debased himself in this fashion. Deliberately contacting a pirate to abduct all of you!” Whittaker shook his head, unable to look the victims in the eye as he waved at the empty comm screen.

Clodagh patted his hand. “Your son’s been a grown man for years, Whit. You can only raise ’em, not straitjacket them. As far as his initiation to Petaybee, Sean and I shielded you both then, because we didn’t want you to be blasted like those others. We were wrong, I guess, but we knew you were offworlders and you didn’t understand. We wanted you to have as gentle a conversation as possible so you’d understand how it could be. We didn’t want you, or him, to get culled. We should have just let Petaybee sort him out.”

“I guess so,” Whit said. “Though that should have been my responsibility. I should have called Torkel on some of his earlier escapades. If he hadn’t got away with them, he’d never have tried something of this magnitude. But I felt there was good stuff in the boy. I never thought . . .” He sighed, resigned, his normal ebullience dead.

The others were quiet for a moment, then there was a knock at the open hatch and Adak stood there with Faber Nike.

“Here’s the gent you was expectin’, Ms. Marmion, come to take you home.” Adak looked up at Nike’s large frame, apparently satisfied that this man was appropriate to that task.

“If you will excuse us?” Marmion said to the others. Yana willingly relinquished her pilot’s seat to Faber. “I have arrangements to make for the CIS court to be moved to Petaybee and an incriminating recording to deliver. Faber, the Louchard holo and certain representatives of law and order have a rendezvous to keep with a pirate ship. Oh, and would you all have any use for a spare space-worthy vessel?” Her smile was definitely mischievous as she glanced round.

“What do you mean?” Yana asked, not certain if Marmion could pull off that sort of stunt.

“Well, the
Jenny
will be forfeited, but I think the authorities might consider it a just compensation for the inconvenience, harassment, outrage, and indignities of a false incarceration of Petaybean citizens.”

“You were kidnapped, too,” Yana said, while Sean chuckled.

“Ah, yes, but I have my own ship, and Petaybee could certainly profit by having its own navy.”

“A shuttle and a spacer?” Sean said, grinning. “I think we might even go into the transport business . . .” When he heard Clodagh’s exasperated snort, he held up his hand and added, “Of course, there will be a strict enforcement of immigration—to keep the undesirable element from landing on our native soil.”

“An eminently sensible and honorable career for a piratical vessel,” said Namid, who had been sitting quietly behind Marmion. He rose now and took her hand. “Return soon.”

She gave him a lingering glance and a saucy smile. “Oh, I will. I certainly will.” Then she dimpled at Yana and Sean. “But I’ll send the ship back as soon as I can talk the authorities out of it.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Matthew Luzon demanded imperiously of the three officials who had presented themselves at his main office on Potala. “I’m under arrest? For what crime, might I ask?”

“Fraudulent misrepresentation, illegal transport licensing, accessory after the fact in an instance of kidnapping—”

“Oh, now, come off it,” Matthew said, cutting off the charges with an irate wave of his hand. “That is utterly outrageous!” He caught sight of his new chief assistant trying to get his attention. “Well, what is it, Dawtrey?”

“Sir, they’ve been through the legal department and the arrest
is
legal and not a single loophole that can be challenged.”

“Preposterous.”

“Dr. Matthew Luzon, you will accompany us to the court which has issued this warrant to answer the charges, forthwith and immediately,” the officer in charge of the deputation said in such a pompous tone that Luzon laughed.

“We’ll see about this,” he threatened, and depressed a toggle to summon his security staff.

“Sir, sir, Dr. Luzon,” his chief assistant said, pumping his hand in the air with the urgency of a schoolchild in desperate need of relieving himself, “the matter
has
been seen to, before we’d even permit them to interrupt you.”

“And?” Luzon stood up, to give the three-man deputation the full force of his imposing stature.

“They are acting quite within the scope of their duties, and you really will have to go with them.”

“I, Dr. Matthew Luzon, interrupt a busy schedule to appear in a minor court?”

“It’s a major court, sir,” the assistant said, “and Legal says you have no option but to accompany them without protest or—”

“—a charge of resisting arrest will also be levied against you, Dr. Luzon.”

The senior official, expressionless though his face was, did seem, in Luzon’s estimation, to be enjoying his duties far more than he had any right to. The very idea that officials could barge into
his
office, interrupt
his
workday, when he had an entire planet to set to rights, was preposterous. And yet the atmosphere was rife with barely concealed emotions, almost menacing in the tension.

A discreet tap on his door, which his senior secretary hastened to open, resulted in the view of his entire legal staff, assembled in the outer room. Peltz, the senior adviser, caught Luzon’s eye and gave him a quick nod of the head. Luzon took that to mean that they had everything under control and this risible situation would soon be a rather bad taste in his mouth.

“Very well, gentlemen, if that is the order of the court, as a law-abiding citizen of this galaxy, I submit.” There was nothing at all submissive about Dr. Matthew Luzon as he smartly passed his would-be captors on his way to the corridor and to the personal vehicle that should have been waiting to transport him.

But the vehicle awaiting him was not his personal one. It was a drab and very official one, and matters proceeded downhill with astonishing speed after that.

Nor was he at all reassured to discover that the plaintiff who had leveled these charges against him was none other than the secretary-general of Intergal, Farringer Ball, and that the warrant had originated from Intergal’s Petaybean installation.

“The planet’s corrupting everyone,” he shouted as he was led off to a holding cell. The last glimpse he had of his well-paid, highly trained and motivated legal department was of their slightly bemused expressions. Bemused at
his
expense.

Nor was his incarceration in any way mitigated by the fact that he was led past a cell containing Captain Torkel Fiske, who was sitting in abject dejection on the spartan bed of the accommodation.

“Fiske? What’s the meaning of this?”

“Now, now, sor,” the senior officer said, hurrying him to the next section of the prison and his own quarters. “No talking. That’s not allowed to prisoners on remand.”

What Torkel Fiske could not figure out was
how
he had been implicated in the Algemeine-Maddock-Rourke-Metaxos kidnappings. Unless, of course, Captain Louchard had been captured and had taken revenge on what he considered to be Torkel’s perfidy by deciding to turn galactic evidence to gain a reduced sentence. Kidnapping demanded a fate far worse than death: imprisonment in a space capsule, which was then released beyond the heliopause of the local star system with sufficient oxygen to keep the criminal alive long enough to regret both crime and life.

Some took as long as weeks to suffocate, depending on the amount of oxygen supplied, and there was no legal amount specified, so a person never knew how long he or she would keep on breathing. If you were claustrophobic, maybe you went mad first. If you had agoraphobia, the torture would be equally severe. No one had ever been rescued.