Angeleyes - eARC (20 page)

I wondered how often from just errors, rather than smuggling or deeper stuff.

“Can we fix the manifest?”

“You can, but fixing it well is expensive. Just getting a short waiver is cheap.”

I figured a better cover was what we wanted, especially as we might get into Earth space again. I called Juan to come back.

He arrived, and I was impressed how he looked us over, assessed the last two hours, and moved on with no comment or expression. He took a seat.

“Welcome back, Juan,” Yuri said. “Angie tells me about your problem.” He summarized back.

Juan said, “That’s about it. Our logs have errors and with the current political climate I’m concerned about being hassled.”

“Logs can be updated,” Yuri said, “but it can be pricey.” He leaned back in his chair with a glass of vodka. I declined. Juan accepted.

He sipped and asked, “How expensive?”

“What are you carrying?”

Juan had a printed page with no name or nomenclature, that listed metal tonnage.

“That,” he said, handing it to Yuri.

Yuri read over it.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s a lot of cargo for a tramper.”

I said, “Yeah. They’re good at getting contracts.”

“Very good,” he said. “It would be smart to be a bit less good, to attract less attention in future.”

Juan said, “Possibly. Business means money, though.”

“May I destroy this?”

Juan said, “Please do.”

Yuri fed it into a multishredder that turned it into fine dust, flash-burned the dust and soaked the ash. How many people keep one of those handy?

He kept talking. “You know how the UN frowns on money, while spending quadrillions.”

“Yeah.”

“I know the man to talk to in the Port Authority. But he will want more than just money.”

“Like what?” I had a guess. This was NovRos underworld.

Yuri said, “It is a rule of his to have someone of the female crew. No permanent damage, but the women I’ve talked to did not enjoy the experience.”

Yeah, some of the fucking mob were exactly that.

“Is he hideous?”

“No, he is quite attractive. Just very demanding and unpleasant.” His expression didn’t reassure me.

“I guess I can manage for a few hours. Will that be enough?”

“Yes. Though my people tell me those hours feel like a sentence.”

“Good thing the others are away, then. Who needs to see him?”

“The captain, and the sacrifice, if that is you.”

I understood he was using that word on purpose. “How much damage does this guy do?”

“Nothing permanent outside,” he said.

“Can I get drunk first?” I was wondering about a Zap, some Sparkle and possibly Null before I went on this.

“He will insist.”

“Oh, great.” I was surprised I didn’t sound sarcastic. I was going to pimp myself to a vor to get our paperwork sanitized. Gods.

Yuri took me and Juan to see an Ivan Chesnikov in the Port Authority. His office read, “Records Inspector.” He was tall and handsome, and he looked as cold as a fish. No emotion at all.

“Mister Chesnikov,” I noted that Yuri didn’t call him by his first name. “This is mister Gaspardeau and Ms. leBlanc. Their ship’s log has become disorganized and doesn’t reflect their proper space history. I have told them you are an expert in correcting errors.”

“Yes, I can do that,” he said. “Do you have the archive with you?”

Juan pulled out a stick, and handed it over.

“Do please take seats,” he said. “Thank you for bringing them to me, Yuri.”

“Have a good day, Mister Chesnikov.”

Yuri was gone.

The man was good. “Yes, I see discrepancies here. It could be bad. Read without context, one might think this ship had disappeared off the books for a year, and changed systems to Govannon. Obviously, you went through . . . Chersonesus to Alsace to Sol to Grainne, which you were concerned about listing, then to Caledonia and to here, and from here to Govannon.”

Juan said, “That is the route we took, yes. For some reason, it didn’t log properly.”

“Very good,” Chesnikov said. “I can fix this from our files. There is a research fee, and it will require overtime on my part.”

Juan said, “I’m happy to pay for your overtime, sir. I know you have a lot of ships to track, but the sooner we can depart the better. I understand work outside regular duties is a drain on your office budget.”

“Exactly. Mistakes happen and can be fixed. We will work on it.” He wrote a number on a slip of paper.

M70,000. Goddess.

“Of course, sir.” Juan didn’t quibble.

“I will work late tonight and tomorrow. Could Ms. leBlanc bring your payment then? And join me for dinner?”

I put on my bubbly club grin and said, “If that works for you, Captain, I’d be delighted to join him.”

“That is excellent news that it’s that fast a fix,” Juan said. “Perfect, and thank you.”

“I’ll buzz for entrance,” I said, wanting to sound naive for him. He probably liked that.

“No, call this number at the gate,” he said.

The next night, I put on split panties and stockings under a clingy black dress with a high neck and cleave window. It had a window in back, too, and thigh slits that didn’t quite show anything. Slices of my ass showed through the drapes. I had black hair ticked with silver to match, and dark lips.

I arrived on time, with a half-dose of Null in me, because I was fully believing it was going to be rough.

He answered my call and said, “Come around to Door Two.”

I could see that door, and went there. I walked in, and everything in the passage was dark except for one office.

And there he was. We didn’t have dinner.

Chesnikov was a real bastard. He literally cut my clothes off, and that hadn’t been a cheap outfit. Spanking I can handle, but he laid into me hard. My ass was nothing but tender bruises for three days. I could barely walk. He pissed on me, spat on me, called me names that didn’t matter because this was business, but insisted I play along. I was a filthy whore. I craved his cock in my ass. Yes, like that. Hurt me.

I love roleplay, but this was work. Making it sound not like work was more work. Making that feel not like work . . . you get the idea.

I’ll give him this, he kept to the safe signal when he choked me. Whenever my hand went slack, he stopped long enough for me to gasp.

When he got close, I arched my back, clamped down hard enough I felt everything burn, begged him to choke me like a bitch, and demanded he pull my hair, daddy. He did, and that left bruises, too.

Then he got completely disgusting.

I felt satisfaction when he finally came, but it wasn’t enjoyable, just
, oh, good, that’s over, I hope.

But he almost passed out himself, and admitted he was impressed.

“When you come through next time, you must look me up again,” he said.

“As soon as I clear ship,” I said with a wink, a glint and a grin.

Not for fifty K-marks, you disgusting perv.

That was one of the worst parts of the war for me. Fucking him was harder than shooting people, or getting shot at. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead now, and I don’t intend to ever find out.

But he delivered the logs back, with corrections and a couple of small fines noted, and we never had problems after that.

I walked back to the ship in a schoolgirl outfit he provided. It was exactly one size too small all over.

Back at Yuri’s, I handed the info to Juan, and sat very stiffly as everyone stared at me.

“How was it?” Yuri asked.

“I will not fucking talk about it.” I said. “Ever.”

He seemed sympathetic, but there was a curious bite to it I didn’t like. The Null was wearing off, and I took another, a full one this time, and a glass of vodka with some banana juice mixed in. I needed to numb my brain.

“I’m going to use your shower,” I said. I needed to wash piss out of my hair.

Teresa said, “I’ve ordered a coverall in your size.”

“Thanks.”

As I reached the door, Juan called, “Angie.”

“Yes?”

“You have our very sincere thanks. That’s the last that will be said about it.”

I nodded and went in to get clean.

CHAPTER 25

A few hours later, after I’d napped and swallowed some NanoGen for the bruising, and Juan and Mira had reviewed the corrected log, we were back aboard ship.

“I think it’s safe now,” Juan said.

Glenn Malcolm said, “I guess it’s going to get tougher all the time.”

“Yes,” Juan said. “They’ll change codes, policies, clearances. They’ll piece together which ships were where. Even after we left, they can eventually pattern it all. Then they’ll backtrack
Bounder Dog
to
Pieper
. Eventually they conclude we’re the threat.”

“What happens then? We die?” I was scared.

“Or we shift everything around again. We also hope the war is over by then.”

“Do you think that will happen?”

He barely shrugged. “I don’t know. But we didn’t plan the mission to end with death. It might happen, but we plan to survive.”

“Good.”

“So, we’re going low key for a bit, and will stick to lesser systems where fewer questions are asked. We can’t do as much damage, but we can likely cause them to have to re-garrison. That means shuffling more troops around.”

“Is it worth it?” I asked.

“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” His smile was amused and quirky.

“I mean, will that matter?”

“It all matters. Five percent here, a kilocred there, someone in tears inside their perimeter. It all adds to the effect. Eventually they break.”

From NovRos we went across system, didn’t do anything untoward, and jumped into Mtali. Mtali is a system so messed up the group who discovered it abandoned it in under a century, and it’s fallen into tribal conflict. It’s not as bad or as poor as Salin, but it’s not much better.

They import a lot of metals and gases, and we sold the rest of what we had. They export mineral goods and artifacts. They have some stunning wood that was being shipped both as raw timber and in finished lumber and goods. There were coffee tables I’d have loved to have, if I had a place to put them and the money to buy them. I could get them cheap if I stayed here, but that was more expensive than paying for them. I mean, it was cheap to live there, but for a reason that made it a bad idea to live there.

They prefer to ship through NovRos, because Earth’s rules are a pain in everyone’s ass, and a lot of stuff leaves Earth semi-legally and then officially departs from Mtali. Drugs, weapons. Even though there’s theoretically a UN office in system, they know better than to interfere. There’s one station in planetary orbit, and no one really docks to it. It’s very bare. There are a couple of name hotels, some chain restaurants, a lounge and a government-run bunkie lodge. That’s it.

We were back out of there, through Alsace, and to Chersonessus, which was remote but surprisingly wealthy. I’d never figured out why.

They have very little UN presence because they’re a secondary system with no other breakouts yet, but they were tunneling to Earth and the Freehold then. The Freehold point was probably going to be a waste with UN occupation.

We loaded up on volatiles. There were short transits that weren’t hugely profitable, but very reliable. Remember I said it’s sometimes cheaper to get stuff from another system through the point, than fly all the way down the gravity well to get it in-system? This was that. Chersonessus had stupid amounts of gas giants and liquid dwarfs in the outer belt. That’s where their money came from. Slow and steady but very reliable, because everyone needed them.

We went back to Alsace and delivered half, then across system to deliver the other half.

We had a briefing, and Juan thanked us.

The overhauled C-deck even had supplemental seats. The refit had shaved a few centimeters off consoles and such, and even that makes a space feel bigger. Modernizing had reduced mass, increased space and efficiency, and made our home much more comfortable.

Facing us, Juan said, “Thank you all. That was very smooth, and helps our cover and commercial reputation. It should take a few scents off, especially as we now have a reliable fake last year.”

“Was that reliable?” Jack asked.

“It seems to be. Nothing else has pinged.”

“As long as he doesn’t sell us in.”

I said, “I doubt he will. It would compromise him. He’d have to try to cut an illegal deal with the UN, which they’d keep until it was expedient to burn him. Also, they hate the UN more than we do.”

Juan said, “There has been a significant amount of moral support from NovRos.”

Glenn said, “On the one hand, good. On the other, I might prefer a higher class of bastards as allies.”

Juan said, “So we’re going back into action, in two ways.”

“First we’re going to need to get more personal. All UN personnel are now targets and we’ll take targets of opportunity. I’d like to minimize threats to families. It’s not their war, and they pack a huge psychological footprint against us.

“Then, we’re going to start running fake ops and false-flags both. In Earth space.”

Mo said, “Damn, that’s ballsy.”

“We tried avoiding them, and it did keep pressure off home, but they’ve violated all the niceties, so we are, too. We have to scare them into withdrawal.”

Jack asked, “Think it’ll work?”

“If not, it will at least mess them up.”

The news from back home was frightening. I hadn’t been there in years, other than the Halo, but it was still my home.

Earth had occupied, but had destroyed the economy in the process. Everything was down and closed. Food wasn’t a problem, with the huge agricultural sector, but no one had jobs to pay for it.

“So I’m going to translate,” Roger said. “The ‘offered’ aid to farmers is mandatory oversight with a bunch of fees and adminwork to get the minerals they need for production, followed by mandatory inspection, tagging, et cetera of produce, and mandatory regulated packaging and transport, all of it billed back to the farmers. Large amounts are rejected, so the price goes up. In the cities, no one has any jobs because there are no imports, and the UN mandates a variety of ‘free’ benefits to employees that employers have to pay for, so a lot of them went broke and closed shop, which is now illegal, so they ran out at night.”

“Wait,” Jack cut in. “How is it illegal to stop doing business?”

“It’s bad for the workers.”

“But if you have no assets?”

“They consider that punishment for not being successful. And if you are successful, they tax you until you break that way.”

He looked more disturbed by this than I’d ever seen him. “How can you be successful with all that management? And no customers?”

“You’re trying to be logical.”

“How does anyone make money in the UN?”

I said, “Mostly black market, and large corps with ties to the government, who use their reps to negotiate exemptions.”

“‘Reps’?”

“Their representatives in the General Assembly of Nations.”

He looked even more confused. “I’d heard of that. How do companies have political representation?”

“I don’t know, but it keeps them in business and the government gets a cut.”

Mira said, “But there were small outlets on station.”

“Almost all of those are owned by some larger conglomerate,” I explained. “They use their own name, but they’re sourcing someone else’s goods and riding on their revenue ID.”

“Gods.”

I said, “I’d never imagined the UN would try to apply their system to ours. I can’t even guess how you’d set it up. First you’d have to find everyone.”

Teresa said, “Even then, you’d have to plow quadrillions into creating databases, establishing policies and offices. How can they afford this?”

“They can’t,” Juan said. “And it’s our job to make it as much more expensive as possible, until they collapse. That’s why we’re heading for Sol system soon, too.”

I wasn’t sure space travel was going to survive this. Our system was dying fast, and how long could the UN afford to maintain troops all over the place and transit costs that weren’t generating income?

If we went down, and someone else went down, Earth would go down for certain, and that was it for civilization. The number of people didn’t matter. The costs and the fragility mattered.

I may be wrong. I’m a cargo handler. But I know what it takes to run a ship and make a living, and how thin that margin is. Supporting another system, which is what they were trying to do, by remote, was like trying to fix a plumbing leak by setting your money on fire and flushing it, so the ash would fill the crack.