CHAPTER 8
What good was a crash couch, Skana Bertu mused pleasantly, stretching, if it wasn’t suitable for just crashing in?
She lounged at her ease within sight of the viewtank that showed their position in space, one jump beyond the Imperium home system. There had been no good reason to stay awake during the approach to or transit through the jump point. Her custom-made protective settee was upholstered in silkskin, the hide of a rare species that was both durable and incredibly soft to the touch. For years she had thought about raising the creatures for their pelts. This new couch decided her for certain. She was going to do it.
“Tuk,” she said aloud, “make a note. Silkskins. Where can we get enough for breeding stock?”
“The information is already in my records, madam.” The Croctoid’s voice came from a few yards away. “If you would care to peruse it while we are waiting until it is safe to unstrap, I would be pleased to send it to you.”
She waved a dismissive hand, although she knew he couldn’t see it in the depths of his equally custom-made but not as handsome lounger. Croctoids liked rough fabrics and lumpy cushions that would make humans writhe just to look at them.
“Later’s fine. What do we hear about those prisoners? Taken care of yet?”
“No information yet, madam, but they will be handled shortly.”
“All right,” Skana said. She hated loose ends. “What took so long to clear Keinolt space?”
“Random inspection!” Nile’s peevish voice erupted and echoed off the ceiling. Skana made a note to improve the soundproofing. It could be done at their next supply stop. “Customs has decided to search every vessel leaving the system now, instead of just coming in! Invasion of privacy!”
Skana tried not to sigh aloud.
“They’ve been doing that for centuries, Nile,” she said. “Random inspections started before Earth’s first colonies. It’s purely a safety measure.”
“They’re picking on us! They know this is a Bertu ship!”
“They can’t possibly suspect us of anything,” Skana said, not bothering to try and look in his direction. “We have receipts and safety certificates for every single object on this ship. They were just trying to make sure we didn’t blow up ten minutes into flight. Let it go, Nile.”
“Don’t be angry, Mr. Bertu,” said one of the two girls who were sharing Nile’s ample couch and protective harnesses with him. “Wouldn’t you rather be happy? Can’t I help you?”
“And me,” the second girl said. “How about a shoulder massage? Would that help to relax you?”
“Well, maybe . . .” Nile’s voice trailed off into a sigh.
When they had launched from Oromgeld spaceport, Skana wasn’t sure if hiring the girls had been a good idea. They had both been nervous. She was afraid that their caution might rub off on Nile, but it hadn’t lasted. In fact, giving him a couple companions was paying off handsomely. Alone, by that point in their journey, he would have been having fifty kinds of fit, over whether they had brought enough booze, or if Tuk had remembered to load the entertainment system with all the new music Nile craved (he had; he always did), or bemoaned yet again the temporary loss of connectivity with their businesses. Skana glanced at the viewtank again. She could see the space station that orbited near the jump point. They didn’t need to stop for supplies or maintenance yet, but communications would have been reestablished. Yes, she could hear the sound of Tuk’s claws on the screen of his clipboard. Any minute Nile would hook in. He’d have a happy hour or so dictating his daily messages to the hundred or so factories, businesses and other concerns. If there were any real problems, he’d probably shuffle them off to her. In the meantime the girls would keep him happy.
They were both slender and fairly tall, with golden skins and green eyes, deliberately chosen for their resemblance to the lady that Nile had picked on. Skana hated to feed his obsession, but it might keep his mind off the real thing.
Both the girls were nervous, scared that they might not make the return journey alive. Skana found their concerns neither here nor there. If they made Nile happy, they would be transported back again. Then they could resume their jobs, one a quality control manager in an orbiting factory out in the direction toward Cassobrix, the other as a receptionist at a Bertu Corporation office in the outskirts of Taino. They would be safe as long as they never breathed a word about what they saw or heard during this trip to anyone for the rest of their lives. That meant lovers, children, as well as the press or future biographers. Once they had accepted the assignment, Skana implanted them both with recorder chips to make sure.
They didn’t have to take the job, she had pointed out. It was genuinely optional, with no strings attached to refusal. The Bertus kept their word on that. Her brother had a bad temper, yes, but he could be very generous. He was a good businessman when his emotions weren’t engaged. The girls decided to take the chance, so they had agreed to the terms. Betray the Bertus, and no one would ever find the bodies. But if they survived and kept silent, they had a good opportunity to rise higher in the company, not just in Nile’s bed. He and Skana rewarded loyalty with loyalty. And once the trip was over, they’d never have to sleep with him again. This was a one-off. Every girl who ever traveled as one of Nile’s arm candy knew it. He probably wouldn’t recognize either one a year from then. The odds were he couldn’t pick either of them out of a line of similar girls now.
It wasn’t like they were traveling steerage, either. The Pelican was luxurious and brand new. In fact, it had just floated out of the shipyard. Skana had designed it with the shipbuilder who created the Emperor’s personal vessels. State-of-the-art engines purred at the rear of the long, sleek body. The repulsor array was calibrated to take out any particle up to a pretty good meteor. The cabins wouldn’t have been out of place in a palace. Every single component, every piece of furniture, was beautifully made as well as durable. A few of their friends had joked about the ship’s name, but the Bertus liked it. After all, it was registered as a cargo vessel, even though it would take a genius with a map to locate the storage bays from the residential areas. Oh, the customs officials had no trouble locating them . . . at least the majority of them. Little hiding places, and some not so little, occupied what would be dead space in other ships. At the moment, those were empty, and the main bay was full of crates of fine metal powder suitable for manufacturing use. The Bertus had no intention of being stopped for any infraction whatsoever. When they crossed the border into the Autocracy, they wanted to be clean as a whistle. Enstidius and his connections would make certain there were no other delays. She’d hate to be late for a coup.
A gentle chime sounded from concealed speakers and from everybody’s pocket secretaries and clipboards. Noises like a pig emerging from a wallow meant that Nile was getting up. After one surprised squeak from the receptionist, probably a foot in the face, neither girl let out a peep. Skana nodded. She had chosen well.
A thick, scaly hand appeared over the edge of her couch and hit the release on her safety straps. Tuk’s long snout peered down at her.
“May I help you up, madam?”
“Thanks,” Skana said. “What’s for lunch?”
Tuk took her by both shoulders and lifted her out of the silkskin cradle as though she weighed no more than a doll.
Good thing he works for me, she thought.
“Omelets, madam. Champagne grapes and fresh strawberries. A light fruity white wine to accompany.”
“Nice choice.” She smoothed her travel garments. You couldn’t go wrong with a silk jersey tunic and an ankle-length skirt over ship boots. She peered at Nile’s companions. They each had on a version of the outfit that Nile’s crush had been wearing when they saw her on Sparrow Island: a midriff-revealing bandeau top and a petal skirt with an irregular hem that brushed the knees. And ship boots. Not so romantic, but practical.
“Thank you, madam,” Tuk said. “I hope you will enjoy it. The cookbot was trained in the very finest Taino hotels.”
“I suppose you’re having something different.”
Tuk closed one small eye.
“I will be dining with the crew so my meal will not distress the guests.”
Skana had seen him eat. It didn’t bother her, but she appreciated his delicacy.
“Stay in touch,” she said.
After lunch, Skana settled down with a bookfile on a silk-upholstered couch in the corner of the common room. The crash cradles had been stored away. They were really comfortable, but too hard to get in and out of in the course of a normal day.
Nile took his companions on a full tour of the Pelican. Skana only hoped that he would remember not to show them the hidden cargo holds. The fewer people who knew they were there, the better. You never knew when you had to hide something vital.
An hour or so later, he came in alone, to flop on the matching couch against the adjoining wall to hers.
“Where are they?” she asked.
“Taking some Infogrid time,” he said. “I think they were impressed.”
“They’d have to be morons not to be impressed,” she said, “and we don’t hire morons.”
“They know what they can post and what they can’t, right?” Nile asked, concern giving him a more pugnacious expression than usual. “They can’t talk about me.”
“Yes, they can, Nile,” Skana said, with a patient sigh. She put her book on standby. “You’re a private citizen, going on a trip in your private vessel. Anyone who reads their postings is going to think ‘lucky you.’ The girls can’t anticipate anything, like saying that we’re going to the Autocracy until we actually get there, but they will get in trouble, and we will get in trouble, if they don’t put up accurate posts about location.”
“I know . . .” Nile looked up at the coffered ceilings. Skana was proud of those. They were patterned after an ancient Earth palace in which every side of every panel, beam, lintel, and wall throughout the building featured a different and intricate painting. When traveling between star systems, you needed plenty of new things to look at. “Nice, Skana.”
“Like it?”
“I do. Almost like we were royalty ourselves. I wish . . . I wish she could see it.”
Skana eyed him seriously.
“She’s not your ladylove. In fact, she’s back on Keinolt. With any luck, you’ll never see her again.”
“I couldn’t stand that,” Nile said, glancing away.
Something in the way he spoke made Skana suspicious.
“You tried to see her.” It was not a question. “When?”
“Um. The other night.”
Skana sat bolt upright on her couch.
“Are you out of your mind? Where? Did you try to arrange a date? Did you use any of our communications circuits? Her Infogrid public file?”
“No!” Nile protested. He waved a hand. “Never mind. I used some of the merchandise. I thought if she saw me, she would come with me and we could talk.”
Skana groaned.
“You tried to meet with her in person? There was a big party in the compound last night. The Edouardo V garden.”
“I know,” Nile said sulkily. “I tried to get in.”
“And that worked out how?” Skana demanded. “Not good, is my guess.” She reactivated her tablet and ran over the Infogrid for the night before. “You were spotted. An intruder was seen just inside one of the entrances.”
“That wasn’t me! I never got in. I was waiting for her just outside the garden. Then there was an explosion, and I took off.”
Skana knew all about the explosion. She had sent a few employees in to see if they could X out the lady so Nile would stop being obsessed by her. The bomb had been intended to flush guests out of the garden so the lady could be picked off by a sharpshooter. Too bad she had been hustled to safety in the middle of a horde of friends and security guards. Looked like neither of them had been successful at their nocturnal endeavors.
“Good thing we left town,” Skana said, reading down the entries. “Ah. And so is she. She’s going traveling with one of her crazy cousins. Good. That’ll take her mind off you.”
Nile grunted.
“She’d understand if I only got the chance to explain,” he said.
“Forget about her,” Skana advised. “I hear they’re all as dumb as stones anyhow.”
A wail burst from the hidden speakers, interrupting Nile’s retort. They glanced at each other.
The ship lurched to the right and upwards, pressing them into the cushions of their sofas.
“What was that?” Skana asked. She reached for the in-ship communications panel in the table beside her couch. “Captain Sigismund, what’s going on up there?”
“My apologies, madam!” came the bell-like voice of their pilot. “The shields detected an incoming energy blast!”
“Who’s attacking us?” Nile demanded, springing to his feet. The next evasive maneuver sent him flying. He scrambled to his knees and pulled himself into one of the big chairs in the middle of the floor. “Captain, is it an Imperium ship?”
“Attempting to read the signal, sir,” she said.
Loud shrieks from the corridor heralded the arrival of Nile’s two girlfriends. One was barefoot. They tottered in, tossed from side to side as the Pelican’s defense system observed the discharges from the enemy’s guns and anticipated where they would pass. The sharp turns indicated the Pelican was being bracketed. Tuk appeared in the opposite doorway. He strode to the women and gathered them up under his short, muscular arms. Nile beckoned to him. Tuk dumped them onto his lap.
“What’s happening, sir?” the receptionist pleaded.
“It’ll be okay,” Nile said, gathering them into the oversized chair with him. It was a tight fit for three.
“Prepare for possible impact,” Tuk said. Skana swung her legs up onto the sofa and palmed the wall for the emergency harnesses. Tuk seized them when they appeared and fastened her into place.
Just as he did, the ship leaped again.
Boom!
“That was a direct hit,” Nile said, his voice hoarse. The girls let out little fearful noises, but didn’t scream.
“Are they nuts?” Skana asked. “Tuk, go tell them who we are.”
“The pilot is telling them right now,” Tuk said, touching the side of his head. Croctoids had no visible ears, so hearing devices were hidden from view, too. His brow ridges went up, and all his teeth showed. He normally sounded mild-mannered, but Skana knew that the cardiac system in his body belonged to a cold-blooded killer. “They challenge us.”
“That’s it,” she said. “Gut them.”
Tuk nodded.
“They’re Paskals, ma’am! Get into the secure cabin!” He unfastened her straps again and helped her to her feet. She glared at her brother.
“Nile, Paskals attacking! Buckle down!”
Brother and sister hurried into the forward corridor. The concealed door of the safety chamber slid open just long enough for them to enter, then slid shut with a fierce hiss. Two platforms snapped out of the walls.
The crash couches in there were not so fancy, but they were of the most impact-resistant foam known to science. Skana abandoned dignity as she clambered over the deep side of the bathtub-sized recess. The harness sprang over her body like a spiderweb.
A loud grunt and the sound of fibers resonating told her Nile was safe. Then she heard pounding on the door.
“Let us in, Mr. Bertu! Please!”
“What about them?” Nile asked.
“What about them?” Skana echoed. “The Paskals must have found out we were traveling this week. Coming out of the jump point, we were an easy target.”
“Damn them!” he bellowed. “I told you it was a bad idea to leave home.”
Whirring noises drowned out the sounds from outside. Bracing struts inside the door frame turned and locked into place. Intruders could not now penetrate it any more than they could break through the hull plates beside it. The dedicated air supply that was fed by a power source embedded in the walls kicked on. The unit could be jettisoned from a ship under siege. If it wasn’t detected and blown up, it and the live contents could survive for weeks until rescued. If she and Nile didn’t kill each other first.
“If we just stay put on Keinolt all the time, we’re just as vulnerable,” Skana said. “You know that as well as I do.”
“Paskals! Those scum!”
Skana reached behind the padding near her right shoulder. A projection of what the captain was seeing beamed onto the flat gray ceiling. She spotted the blips of more than one ship, all with Paskal markings.
The Paskals were a rival organization, and fierce competitors with the Bertus and other family-held corporations. Skana admired their tenacity and intelligent application of business practices, but they had resisted a merger on the grounds that anyone who had done that in the past two thousand years had ended up having their businesses picked off one at a time and subsumed. What happened to the other family members involved could never be proved, but they disappeared off the Infogrid.
“Tuk, I must have missed it in the reports,” Skana said. “Have we seen somewhere the Paskals are pushing into our territory?”
“They have a new recreational drug on the market in the Leonines,” Tuk replied. “PS4. No doubt Blute is cutting into their profits. Limuel Paskal probably hopes that by removing you he can profit in the entire system.”
“That is never going to happen,” Nile said fiercely. “I want to tear them apart myself!”
“Tuk will see to it you have a survivor to kill,” Skana said, calmly, although inside her senses were in turmoil. A fourth ship joined the three she could already see. In spite of Sigismund’s expert handling, they didn’t stand a chance of outrunning all of them to the next jump point. One ship hovered between the Pelican and the return point. There was no escape that way. It looked as if the Pelican was outnumbered.
“They’re going to attempt boarding,” Tuk announced through the speaker system. Skana could hear the girls somewhere near him begging to be put in safe quarters. No time for that.
“Slow down. Let them catch up.”
The Pelican lurched. Skana was thrown from side to side in her safety couch. The blips grew larger and larger. One of them took the lead. The others surrounded it like the fletching on an arrow.
“Magnetic beams grappling on.”
Skana smiled fiercely. “Is the programming ready?”
I have activated it.
“Excellent.” Skana relaxed in the cradle and let her head fall back against the enveloping cushion. “Open the hatches.”
Their secret weapon was about to claim its first victim.