Pirates of the Outrigger Rift (17 page)

He roughed out a map of what he knew of the base. He said it
was an old mining asteroid or moon. All underground. They didn’t really have
much internal security except for the areas that were off-limits. It was a
secret base, after all, and they all knew each other by sight.

Chandler had found the ship, found someone who knew the
inner workings of the base, and even knew the area where the base was located,
but space was still a big place. He needed a pilot. Someone in the inner circle
who knew the actual coordinates.

 “Stupid question, but do you have any idea how someone
could contact Thorne?” Chandler asked.

“His comlink ID number?”

“Sure,” Chandler said.

“That really
is
a stupid question. He calls me. The
money appears in my account. I don’t call Thorne.”

“Here’s another. Let’s say I wanted to have Thorne contact
me, how could I do it?”

“Just go to the Rift, sail slow, and look rich and stupid. That
shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. If he’s out there, he’ll find you.
Eventually.”

Glenn, Thorne’s second-in-command, walked from the
communications station to the pirate lord’s command chair and quietly said
something into his ear.

“Who is it?” Thorne asked, incredulous. “Run that by me
again.”

“Your
boss
, sir,” Glenn said. “Or at least that’s who
he claims to be. It’s our informant.”

Thorne stood and paced the command deck of his flagship, the
Naglfar
. In the three years Thorne had been working with his anonymous
informant, he had only once before been contacted directly, and it hadn’t been
pleasant. At that time, Thorne’s men had just flubbed a raid on a freighter
loaded with expensive military equipment. They had blown it up by mistake,
destroying the cargo. The man had not been pleased and had threatened to start
giving his information to someone else in the future. It had taken a lot to
calm him down. But this
boss
business was pushing it.

“Clear the room and put it through.”

Glenn ushered the command staff out the door, locked it, and
went to the communications station to patch the connection over.

The image of a black, featureless figure appeared on the
main viewscreen. The man was using a stealthcloak filter to protect his
identity while still displaying his outline. The background was hazy and
indistinct. “Thorne, I am not a happy man,” the informant said, his voice
distorted.

“What’s the problem?”

“You’re the problem,” the figure raised an indistinct finger
and pointed it at Thorne. “I asked you to do a simple task, to intercept and
destroy one little trading ship, and now I hear that you attacked and it got
away. You’ve failed me.”

“Little trading ship, my ass! The fleet got a report that
the
Elsa
had been spotted and we tried to converge on it. Unfortunately,
one of my Marauders got excited and engaged it before I got there. I was
looking forward to some action, too. No matter, I won’t have to punish them.
All we found was the wreckage and a vapor trail. This was not some harmless trading
vessel. It had a plasma cannon mounted on it! That’s information that could
have proven useful, had you mentioned it in your message.”

“Field operations are your department. If your men are
stupid enough to engage a ship without adequate backup then they deserve what
they get. My problem is that now I have to change tactics. I have to risk
exposing one of my assets to prevent that ship from arriving. It’s a
complication, a surprise. I don’t like surprises. I expect you to carry out my
orders.”

“Orders? I find it curious that you
think
you have
any ability to order me to do anything. You’re not my superior. It would be a
stretch to call you a partner. I do all the actual work. I chose to follow your
little tips here and there because it’s been profitable to us all. But I’m not
your employee and I’m sure as hell not your servant. You’d better get that
through your head. Or I may have to explain it to you in person. You shouldn’t
rely on the protection your steathcloak affords. I can find you if I put my mind
to it. That issue aside, how important could one trading ship be?”

“Important enough that I feel a promotion is in order.”

“Promotion? What do you mean?”

“Your second-in-command, Glenn, is now in charge.”

Thorne laughed. “Over my dead body. You’re delusional.”
Thorne turned to face Glenn. “Isn’t that right, Glenn?”

 Glenn drew his pistol and shot Thorne, point-blank between
the eyes, without saying a word. Thorne collapsed in a heap on the deck. Glenn
holstered his weapon and took his place in the command chair.

“Very good, Glenn,” the informant said. “The
Elsa
is
attempting to land on Mordi. They expect to be welcomed, but they will be sent
away. Send strike ships and ground ops teams to the area. I’m giving you the
communication protocols for Randol’s security force. Monitor their
transmissions and follow the
Elsa
’s progress. Intercept them.”

“Aye. I’ll accompany the men myself. They need to be watched
carefully. They aren’t the brightest bunch.”

“By the way, is your name really Glenn? Don’t you have a
better pirate name? I don’t think Glenn presents the right level of imminent
threat for a pirate lord.”

“That’s what Thorne thought. Sometimes it pays to be
subtle.”

The informant’s indistinct form nodded. “Point taken. How do
you feel about swords?”

“Stupidest idea ever,” Glenn said.

“Glenn, we are going to get along splendidly.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Y
ou are entering restricted space. Identify yourself,” a
voice said from the com.

Hank pressed the comlink control. “This is Hank Jensen,
skipper of the free-trader
Elsa
. I have Sai Collins on board to see Lord
Randol. We should be expected.”

“Stand by.”

Hank turned to Sai and shrugged.

“Access denied,” the voice said. “Leave orbit immediately. You
are not authorized for operations in this area.”

“Wait a minute! There must be some mistake. We have
something to deliver. It’s very important. We’re supposed to ask for Jorgeson.”

“That’s me, and I don’t know you. No entry exists for a Sai
Collins, Hank Jensen, or any ship called
Elsa
. You must leave immediately
or we will take defensive action.”

Sai pressed the broadcast button. “Please, it’s important. Chandler
sent me. He told me to speak to Lord Randol. I have to see him.”

“You have ten seconds to break orbit or you will be
destroyed. I suggest you start moving. One … two … three … four …”

“We’d better leave, Sai. We can try to straighten it out
later,” Hank said. “Elsa, get us out of here.”

“Seven … eight …”

“Yeah, yeah, you count real good, jackass,” Hank said.

Elsa broke orbit, arcing away from Mordi into open space. “Where
to, Hank?”

“Set us down on Trent.”

Sai rubbed her brow. “What are we going to do?”

“You call Chandler and see if you can find out why Randol
won’t see us. Something may have happened we don’t know about. In the meantime,
we’ll go ahead and land on Trent. We still have some repairs to make, and we
need to regroup and plan our next move.”

“What move? What can we do?”

Hank shrugged. “Get supplies, lots of them. There’s a price
on our head from the corporation. We may need to find a rabbit hole somewhere
and sit in it for a long, long time.”

“It’s unavoidable,” Oke said, toying with the hem of his
kimono. “We must sell a part of the corporation in order to save it. If we all
part with some of our shares, we can bring in the capital to keep us in
business. There is no alternative.”

The lords were all there in holo form around the council
table. Randol shook his head. “There are always alternatives for those who have
the balls to stay the course. There are far too many shares available out there
as it is.”

“If we do nothing, we’ll go bankrupt,” Hemming said. She
wore a huge, multi-colored feathered headdress that flowed halfway down her
back and looked six paces beyond ridiculous. “This is not a time for dawdling. We
need to solve this problem and move on. It will hardly matter. No one can
afford to buy enough stock to challenge us. We will still control operations
and when we return to profitability, the value of our holdings will again
rise.”

“How does this sell-off solve anything?” Randol asked. “It’s
a crust of bread to a starving man. We might live a few more months, but the
problem remains—Thorne. He has bled us dry and he will continue to do so no
matter how we split the stocks.”

Hemming threw up her arms. “Thorne? Does everything revolve
around Thorne in your mind? This is more than just a problem with a pirate. Our
lifestyles are on the line.”

“Your free ride, you mean,” Randol said. “My family has never
sold our holdings. We’ve created wealth off our dividends and lived within our
means. And more importantly, I think you might feel differently if your
daughter had been attacked by Thorne and her whereabouts were still unknown.”

“Milords,” Oke said. “We must put aside these petty
differences and look to our duty,” he said, slowly circling the table. “If the
corporation is to survive, we need capital—now. Although it’s usually wise to
move slowly and ponder each step carefully, we don’t have that luxury in this
case.”

“All we need to do is cut back,” Randol said. “Consolidate
operations. Put more of our profits back in to the company rather than paying
ourselves. Use only escorted convoy shipments for a while. Stare Thorne down by
preventing him from getting any of our cargo. He’ll go broke eventually with no
income stream.”

“And how much would that cost? How much revenue would we
lose delaying shipments?” Hemming said. “I have bills to pay that won’t wait.”

“You created your own crisis. If you hadn’t built such a
monstrous lifestyle, you could afford to weather the storm,” Randol said. “We
have a responsibility to our workers to provide stable employment.”

Oke snorted. “Milord, with all due respect, the workers
couldn’t care less about Nebulaco. We’re a convenience. The workers would
relocate to new jobs created by the other corporations in the vacuum left by our
demise. Only we lords and those few execs in the upper echelon would suffer. I
urge you to swallow your pride in the name of survival.”

“Our families put their sweat and blood into this venture. They
squeezed an empire out of the barren wilderness. We exist today because of
their suffering. I think we can afford to suffer a bit, too. I, for one, am
willing to funnel my earnings back into the corporation in order to see us
through these hard times. What about you?” Randol looked squarely into the
holographic eyes of both his fellow lords.

“Not all of us live like Spartans,” Oke said. “Some of us
have delicate sensibilities that require that certain needs be maintained.”

“You’re a worthless, pampered fool! We have no idea who the
stock buyers might be. For all we know this could be an underhanded attempt at
a takeover by another corporation,” Randol said, disgusted.

“That would be illegal,” Oke said.

“So? Look at the numbers. Originally our three families each
owned thirty-three and one-third percent of the company. An equal share for
all. Over the years, your families have sold off portions of stock here and
there for whatever frivolous reason. Now you only have a fifteen percent share
each. Still, all together we represent sixty-three and one-third of the stock.
If we each sell off five percent as proposed, that will drop us to forty-eight
and one-third percent. That’s below fifty-one percent ownership, and we could
lose control of the corporation.”

“Ridiculous. The figures look good,” Oke said. “No one party
has anything close to the ten percent block required to forcefully join the Council,
and no one could afford to purchase it. That’s all that really matters. The
rest of the stock is distributed among the rabble. This latest offering will be
no different.”

Hemming sighed. “Lord Randol, I feel that you’re making far
too much of this issue. When we return to profitability we can each begin
buying back our stock. After all, we have been entrusted to safeguard the
existence of the corporation, and this seems to be the only way to save it. We
all take our duty seriously, but each in our own way.”

“You take your excursions seriously. You take your safari
hunts seriously. You care only that your dividends come on time to pay for your
extravagant hobbies.”

“You go too far, Randol,” she said.

“Go too far? You’re thinking about selling off more of the
company and you think
I’m
going too far? What if one person buys all the
stock? What if somebody
does
have that kind of money? What if someone
from Galaxia, Inc. wants to buy in? We’d have another megacorporation
represented on the Council of Lords!”

Oke sighed. “The other corporations would never approve it. They
don’t want that kind of consolidation; it would be the beginning of the end.
There has to be a separation for trade to be effective.”

Hemming shook her head, making the feathers shuffle about.
“I don’t see why you’re so upset, Randol. Our families have sold stock before.”

“My point is that this could destroy Nebulaco. Although in
the past we Randols have allowed your family’s madness, my vote will be no. I
will not sell off any of my current share.”

“Our shares alone won’t be enough to save the company.”

Randol shook his head. “I am saving the company. There is no
need for further discussion. As it so happens, with my holdings representing
twenty-eight percent of the total stock I have control of the vote already. I
say no. There will be no sale.” The room quieted for a moment.

Oke broke the silence. “Lord Randol, I have been very
patient. I have listened to your abuse for years and ignored your insults. But
this is too much. I didn’t want to bring this up in open council until I had
the opportunity to check into some details, but I’m afraid this turn of events
forces my hand.” He turned toward the front of the room. “Mr. Maxwell, please
enter.”

The door to the conference room opened and Vincent Maxwell
walked briskly up to the table and sat down. He opened a briefcase and removed
a small com with a projection holo presentation screen. Maxwell turned the unit
on, and a glowing blank screen appeared in the air in front of him.

“You may begin, Mr. Maxwell,” Oke said.

“Are you sure you want me to present this now?” Maxwell
asked.

“Definitely.”

Maxwell cleared his throat, then addressed them. “After
receiving some anonymous reports of unusual activity, and after Lord Randol’s
spirited defense of the traitor Frederick Casey, the security division began an
investigation into Lord Randol’s finances.”

“How dare you! I am a lord. You have no right to do such a
thing,” Randol said.

“I approved the investigation, Randol,” Oke said. “We needed
to get to the truth.”

Maxwell continued. “We have uncovered some, shall we say,
curiosities.”

An animated graph appeared. A red line moved along the axis
of time and upward along an axis of deposit totals. “Large deposits have
appeared in a private account coinciding with the pirate raids over the past
two years.”

Dots appeared with the names of ships and cargo manifests at
the point in time when they were attacked. The red line turned sharply upward
at each point representing a pirate attack. “All the while the corporation has
been suffering, this account has been growing.”

Randol fumed. “Now see here! What are you talking about? I
demand an explanation for these lies!”

Oke shook his head. “I’m sorry, Randol, but you had to know
that sooner or later your activities would be discovered.”

“What do you mean? What activities? What are you trying to
say?”

“It’s obvious that you planted Casey in order to have him
cooperate with Thorne to steal from the corporation.”

“But—” Randol stared at the numbers in horror. They detailed
transactions he knew had never taken place. “This is impossible. I have no such
account.”

“It’s encoded with your private identifiers as the account
holder,” Maxwell said.

“Yes, and only known by myself and Helen—wait! That must be
it. They must have gotten the codes from her. Tortured them out of her. That’s
it! This is all one of Thorne’s tricks. Don’t you see?”

“I don’t see anything of the sort,” said Oke. “All I see is
that your account balances have jumped while Nebulaco’s have plummeted, and
based on the dates, many of these transactions are from
before
Helen was
taken. Do you have some sort of death wish for this corporation? You rob it
blind and then try to obstruct us from doing the one thing that could save it?”

“Don’t you people see what’s happening here? I’m innocent! They
must have used my daughter against me! They fabricated this charade.”

Hemming looked on with distaste. “I know one thing, Randol.
We will gather in a few days for the formal vote. If you don’t agree to sell
off your five percent along with the rest of us, we’ll be turning you over to
the authorities to pay for your criminal activities. The one thing a lord
cannot do is act so blatantly against corporate law.” She turned to look into
Randol’s eyes. “If it comes to it, we’ll take every share you own.”

Maxwell shook his head. “Now let’s not be hasty, Lady
Hemming. We must allow Lord Randol the opportunity to make his defense. Let me
continue the investigation. Lord Randol could be correct. Casey’s shadow
organization was malicious and not beyond manufacturing something that might
be used to pressure each of the lords if needed at the right time. Involving
the Confed and voting to strip Lord Randol of his stock seems extreme before we
can actually verify the charges. After all, we must be fair.”