Alexander Outland: Space Pirate (7 page)

“They’re a lot of them and they’re bigger than me. Frankly, all of the men on Herion seem bigger than me.”

“They put steroids in the milk here.”

“Thank God I only drink alcoholic beverages.”

“Truly. It affects their sexual abilities in a negative way.”

“My day just got a lot brighter.”

“Perhaps if you stopped screwing every female that moved, Alexander, Miss Slinkie would consider your suit.”

“How did this turn into ‘Your Love Life With Uncle Oldie’? What am I supposed to do if Zoltan and his crew don’t like how I negotiate?”

“Well, that’s why you had Miss Slinkie make a date with Herion Military, is it not? Stop playing stupid, Alexander. We don’t have the time. You will simply tell Zoltan that Janz has made his decision, and hazard pay, plus twenty percent of the gross, is the final decision. Unless, of course, they offer more than twenty-five percent of the gross to begin with.”

“Why so?”

He sighed. “Five years under my tutelage and you still have to ask?”

“I just love hearing you talk. Fine. If they offer more they’re either so desperate the job’s going to go bad in the first hour, or it’s a set up. But, this is Herion. I expect both of those and for them to offer one percent.”

He chuckled. “Good point. However, Janz the Butcher’s reputation seems intact here, if your description of how they reacted to the name is any indication.”

“Yeah, seems that way. So, getting off planet with a job and without military intervention is pretty much the story of our lives. I think we’ll manage that, somehow. But getting to Runilio, let alone out of Herion solar space, without being vaporized is the bigger issue of the day. Any ideas?”

The Governor shook his head. “Ideas, no. That’s your department. However, I can tell you who I suspect is behind the attacks, and why.”

“I’m listening. Intently.”

“I believe Pierre de Chance and the Chatouilleux Français Armada are back in business.”

I did a fast translation. “You’re kidding.”

“No, that’s really his name.”

“Lucky Pierre and the French Tickler Armada? And someone, anyone, considers this guy scary?”

The Governor gave me a long look. “Before he was stopped, Pierre and his minions had the entire Delta Quadrant under their control. No ships could come in or out of solar space without their approval and, of course, tribute.”

“How much was the tribute?”

“Seventy-five percent of cargo worth.”

My jaw dropped. “That’s piracy!”

The Governor gave me his patented “and I’m stuck with you” look. “Yes. Hence why I told you they were a pirate armada. This is the beginning. They capture any and all viable spacecraft. Kill or employ their pilots and crew. Once the planetary system is fully cut off, they offer negotiations. By the time that happens, economics are so bad the planets make the deals.”

“So, what’re the odds they’d hire us and let us work for them?”

“Slim to none. Your reputation is too good, Alexander.”

“I’m not exactly known as hero of the galaxy.”

“No. You’re known as the best pilot in said galaxy and a man who can be bought, but not employed. And while I know you’re a pirate, smuggler, and all around bad man, not everyone else does.” This was said in the condescending way he used when he wanted to make it clear to me that, as bad men went, I wasn’t really in the game, just pretending.

“So? I sound like a great addition to the French Tickler team.” Not that I wanted to join up, unless it meant all the women I could
ever want, any time, anywhere. Then again, I had the best one in my crew already, and I just had to figure Pierre, as head man, would sort of expect Slinkie as a show of good faith.

“Pierre would never let you live—you’re someone who could, conceivably, take over his operation.”

“Yeah?” Felt pretty good all of a sudden. The Governor didn’t hand out a lot of compliments as a rule.

“Don’t preen. I said ‘conceivably’. Pierre doesn’t know you. I do. You’re fine with a small crew. Too many people and your so-called management skills deteriorate faster than a snowball on Thurge.”

“I think I resent that.”

“But you don’t and can’t deny it.”

“Sadly, no. I just want to get off this rock, go out, get some legal magma, get paid for our one legal job in the last six months, then go back out and relieve some merchants of part of their load in a nice and friendly manner. I may be a pirate, but I don’t take seventy-five percent.”

“Because you’re clear on the concept of keeping the herd fattened and producing.”

“True. Pierre isn’t?”

“No, he is. He had a desire to rule the world, however. Clearly the desire’s back.”

“How was he stopped the last time?”

He sighed. “We sent in an undercover team who infiltrated and were able to destroy from within.”

“Didn’t they kill off Pierre?”

“Oh, they did. But, I’d assume one of his children took over the family business. Some things are handed down.”

“Are you sure he was killed?”

“Very.”

“How so?”

The Governor chuckled. “Because I killed him.”

“Y
ou were part of the infiltration team?” This seemed unbelievable. I took thirty or so years off the Governor. He’d still be ancient.

“You’d be surprised,” he snapped.

“Completely.”

“Suffice to say that part of how I became Janz the Butcher was due to this particular successful infiltration and leave it at that.”

I considered the Butcher’s reputation. He was said to have killed his superior in cold blood because he wanted to take over a galaxy-wide crime syndicate. Did so, and then retreated to the shadows, to become the head spider in the middle of galactic crime’s web. Yeah, that kind of flowery hype sounded like the Governor’s style.

“So, why didn’t you become Lucky Janz or something?”

He shrugged. “I was given the rule of Knaboor, the richest planet in the galaxy. Until that little mishap five years ago, I
was
Lucky Janz, in that sense.”

I pondered. “You think the Frenchies know you, you personally, are Janz the Butcher?”

“No. I think they’re aware that Governor Murgat no longer rules Knaboor. I was considered a military genius, if you recall.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not so genius that you didn’t get deposed.”

“Correct. I’d assume we’re dealing with, as I said before, Pierre’s offspring. I’m sure he had children all over the galaxy. One or more of them have come of age and decided to take up the family business.”

“Great. Nice to know and all that, but what we need is how to avoid them.”

“Actually, we need to determine how to stop them.”

“I thought we agreed I wasn’t hero material.”

“You aren’t. However, unless you want to be dead or give up seventy-five percent of all cargo, in and out, to the Armada, we have to stop them here. If they control Herion Military, which I’m sure is their initial goal, the rest of the galaxy will be in trouble, and quickly.”

“Why does this sound like heroics will be necessary? Why me?”

“Because I said so.” He said this in his Janz the Butcher voice. I hated that voice, particularly when he was saying things like this. Because when he used it and gave me the “make it so” order, he always meant it. And he was always right.

“So, do we tell the others that Janz has ordered us to play saviors of the galaxy or fake it until we’re surrounded?”

“I’ll think on that. We have at least a day until we’ll be expected to leave.”

“We’ll have ten seconds once we leave this room before one of them asks.”

“Good point.” He was quiet for a couple of minutes. I took that time to contemplate if my original plan—just grab Slinkie and stay in bed for two weeks straight—wasn’t the wiser choice, no matter what. Maybe I could impress her with my knowing Janz the Butcher well enough that I knew what he ate for breakfast. Of course, if I had to tell her what that was, she’d probably guess Janz’s secret identity. Who else ate stewed prunes and watery oatmeal each and every morning? Aside from the Governor, my guess was no one. Back to heroics. I hated heroics. It never paid well and certainly not in terms of the risk to reward ratio.

“I believe we tell them about Pierre’s armada. Leaving out that I was in any way involved, of course.”

“No problem there. I think I’d have a harder time convincing them you were able to do anything active than that Janz wants us playing hero.”

“Hilarious. I can still be active when I choose, Alexander. It’s just rarely worth it.”

“Yeah, I know. You save it up for pleasure princess visits. I’ve heard. From you. Not so much from them.”

“Professional discretion is a wonderful thing.”

“Yeah, because most men don’t want to know they stink in bed.”

“You among them.”

“See, here’s the difference between me and the rest. They all think they’re great in bed. I know I am.”

“It’s that kind of blind belief in yourself that keeps me confident we’ll all survive.”

I chose not to argue with his wording. “Fine. You ready to go face the others with our still total lack of a plan?”

“We have a plan, Alexander. It’s still in the beginning stages, and will need flexibility in order to adapt as the situation changes, but overall, it’s workable.”

I shook my head. “The one thing I never doubt is that you were a career politician. The space droppings flow from your mouth like eggs out of an Aviatus henhouse.”

“One would think you’d have picked up the ability after five years together.”

“I filter it.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“Yeah, it is. Shall we?”

He sighed and stood. We went back to the living room. The others all looked worried. “I have a date,” Slinkie said morosely.

“I’ll take you out tonight and show you what a real date should be, Slink. Then you can pretend you’re out with me again tomorrow.”

“I feel so much better.” Strangely, her tone of voice said otherwise.
“What did the Butcher have to say?”

“Half off on sides of beef, this week only.”

“That joke was funny the first time, Nap. When we’re at time five hundred plus, not so hilarious.”

“Everyone’s a critic. Fine. Janz gave me the deal for the Business Bureau. He’s not happy with them, so it’s going to be hefty. I’m not sharing, it’ll stress you all out and you won’t be negotiating with me anyway. Suffice to say the Governor about had a heart attack and leave it at that.”

“Can we get it, is the bigger question.” Randolph sounded worried. “I mean, get it and leave alive. It was some Herion xenophobe who planted the bomb. Apparently, there’s this crackpot group that’s become active since Herion got cut off by that armada. Their goal is to keep everyone planetside, so no one can be lost to the space devils, which is what they’re calling the armada.”

“Possibly because, before us, no one knew it
was
a space armada.” I thought about this. The group could be local crazies, but they could also be working for Pierre’s people. “Do a further search on the mad bomber, will you Audrey?”

“Right away, Captain.”

“Now, about the armada.” They all looked at us with expressions that said they were paying full attention. “Janz says he knows them, or at least the signature. Pirates from over thirty years ago. The original head man was killed, but the assumption is one of his offspring took over and is now old enough to follow in daddy’s effective but strangely named footsteps.”

“What’s the name?” Slinkie asked.

“Pierre de Chance and the Chatouilleux Français Armada.”

I waited for them to all do the translations. Unsurprisingly, Audrey translated first. What was surprising was that she laughed. Like a human. Randolph had done a really good job. I was starting to be impressed.

Slinkie translated second and, like Audrey, started to howl with laughter. “And they think that’s a scary name?”

“No, but apparently it was effective.”

“At preventing pregnancy while increasing satisfaction, sure.” Slinkie was still laughing. “But at scaring the general populace?”

Randolph translated, finally. Machines, computers and anything related to them were his forté. Languages, not so much. He blushed bright red. “I think that’s a really stupid name.” Of course, he didn’t like that we called the
Sixty-Nine
the
Sixty-Nine
, either. There were times I really worried about him. I looked at Audrey. Check that—there were now no times I wasn’t going to be worried about him.

“So anyway, Janz figures Pierre, Junior, or similar, is now flying the not-so-friendly solar skies. They only stopped Pierre the First before by infiltrating and blowing his brains out, up close and personal. I’d love to avoid doing that. However, Janz also feels we need to stop Pierre here, before he’s able to conscript Herion Military.”

The laughter stopped. “Did I hear you right?” Randolph asked slowly. “Janz the Butcher wants
us
to
stop
this armada? He didn’t tell you how to get away, he told you to take them down?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Silence filled the room. Slinkie finally broke it. “Dear Feathered Lord—we’re all going to die.”

“W
ell, see, not part of my plan. Us dying, I mean.”

“Great, Nap. If only the rest of us could perhaps know your plan, maybe we’d feel the same.” Slinkie shook her head. Her hair flipped around. Her mouth was moving, but I was focused on her hair. “NAP!”

“Huh? What?”

“You were doing it. Again. The not paying attention to me while I’m talking thing. The thing I hate. You remember?” She looked and sounded furious. Her chest was heaving. I forced my ears to pay attention. My eyes told me they were extremely busy and I shouldn’t bother them now.