Pirates of the Outrigger Rift (18 page)

Chandler lay in his bunk on the
Marlowe
trying to
will himself to sleep
,
but he was enduring another night talking to
unsettled ghosts. Faces of friends and comrades.

 More than likely talking to Richmond had stirred the
pot. They had served together during one of the endless border wars on the
fringe. Back then he was invincible. They all were. Or at least they thought so
until a random bolt of energy or stray round ended their illusions. Then those
strong, smiling men and women turned to surprised, saddened children who died
in confusion.

But it was always someone else who died. Someone else who
picked up the check and let the others get away without paying the cost. No
matter how much time went by, he still felt the debt weighing on his soul. When
was Mike Chandler going to settle his account?

He needed to talk to someone. He thought about calling up
Sheila Sanders. He hadn’t seen her in almost a year. For a while they had run around
together on Dar Es Salaam, enjoying the nightlife and generally spending every
cent Chandler made working as an insurance investigator for a local ship
underwriter.

Chandler sat up in bed and rubbed his face. He reached into a
cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He poured himself a few
fingers’ worth of the amber liquid and took a swallow.

He felt the bite of the liquor and let the fiery warmth fill
his gut.

No, calling Sheila would be a bad idea. She was too
beautiful and too smart to stay alone this long. She would answer the vid and
have that awkward look on her face, and then she would do her damnedest to be
gentle and kind as she cut his balls off by whispering to some man offscreen.

His comlink sounded. He looked at the ID. It was Sai.

“Chandler,” he answered.

“I thought you said that Lord Randol was expecting us.”

“He is. I thought you would have been there by now.”

“Long story. The ship was damaged, but we just got to Mordi
and were turned away by Randol’s goons. They nearly blasted us out of orbit.”

Chandler shook his head. “There’s been a mistake, or there’s
something very wrong. Tell you what, set down on Trent. There is a town called
Last Chance with a small landing facility. I’ll contact Lord Randol directly
and head that way.”

“Hurry,” Sai said. “You aren’t the only one who’s looking
for us.”

The call ended.

Chandler stood and walked from his cabin to the cockpit. There
he plotted a course to Trent and activated the drive. The situation was all
sorts of messed up.

He’d wondered why Randol hadn’t informed him that the
courier had delivered the data. Sai had been delayed, and now either Randol had
lied to him and was playing some sort of game, or one of his security men was
on the take.

He called Randol to find out. The old man answered quickly.

“Yes, Mr. Chandler. What is it? Have you found Helen?”

Chandler shook his head. “No. I have located the
Aurelius
and the Confed is doing a recovery. I even found an ex-employee of Thorne’s who
gave me extensive information on the operations at the pirate base, but until I
can find a pilot with the coordinates, all we know is that the base is somewhere
in the Outrigger Rift. But that’s not why I called. Are you at home?”

“Yes, I just attended a board meeting. Why?”

“The courier just tried to make her delivery but she was
turned away.”

Randol raised a finger. “No. That’s impossible. I left
specific instructions.”

“Well, you’d better check. I think there’s a good chance you
have a traitor in your household security staff.”

“But they’ve been with me so long.”

Chandler nodded. “Yes, and they’ve been leeching both you
and someone else for a long time. Do me a favor and arm yourself just in case.
I wouldn’t trust anyone right now and I don’t know how far they might go to
protect themselves. I told Sai to have her pilot take her to Trent. I’m on the
way and pretty close to you. They need protection, so have a detail of men go
meet them. We need to hurry. Whoever sent them away has already told his bosses
that the courier was just there.”

“Yes, Mr. Chandler. We need to get that datastore. I have
the access codes, so we should be able to discover its secrets soon. Hopefully,
it may hold more clues as to Helen’s location.”

“I hope so. The best I can say now is that she’s out there
somewhere
.”

Chandler ended the conversation and got in the shower. He
had just gotten wet when the comlink sounded again.

“What now?” Chandler said to himself as he turned off the
water and wrapped a towel around his waist before answering. He was surprised
to see Maxwell’s face appear on the screen wearing a cheesy business smile.

“What are you selling?” Chandler asked.

“I understand that Randol still has you running after leads
on his daughter.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I have a proposition for you,” Maxwell said.

“This is so sudden. We hardly know each other.”

Maxwell gave a tight smile. “Lord Randol’s investigation is
a farce. That’s not your fault. In fact, you’ve been doing exceedingly well
with what you had to work with. But the entire affair is a waste of time and
money. Not only that, but he is endangering my own investigation into Thorne.”

“Your own investigation? How’s that going for you?”

“Certainly you’re intelligent enough to know he’s been
sending you off chasing ghosts to create a smoke screen. We’ve discovered that
Randol has been embezzling money from the corporation. This supposed kidnapping
of his daughter is just a ruse.”

“Quite a production, don’t you think?”

“He isn’t a fool. If you’re going to perform fraud on this
scale you have to go big. We have some good initial data, but the last piece of
evidence is in the hands of Sai Collins. If I had that, I could prove the
corrupt connection between Casey and Randol. Unfortunately, the Confed has
prevented our security teams from doing their job.”

Chandler nodded. “I think it had more to do with preventing
them from destroying any more starport property.”

“An unfortunate event. They acted with too much enthusiasm,
to be sure.”

“They are certainly a lively bunch. I still have a sore jaw
from their giddy exuberance.”

Maxwell sighed. “Again, Mr. Chandler, I apologize. My hope
is that we can reset our relationship since I truly believe we got off track
initially. That’s why I’m offering a proposition.”

“I’m listening.”

“If Randol gets hold of the datalifter and the pilot before
I do, valuable information could be lost.”

“So what exactly are you saying?” Chandler asked.

“If you catch them, I’ll make it worth your while to bring
them to me instead of allowing Randol to destroy the evidence.”

Chandler licked his lips. “Would you? How much do you think
my while is worth?”

“A lot more than Randol is paying you. Remember my offer,
Mr. Chandler. Call me when you have them and I will ensure that your financial
problems are over.”

Maxwell’s face disappeared and was replaced by the star
field. Chandler returned to finish his shower. He had a lot to think about.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
rent was an agworld with just a few small urban areas with
supply shops and entertainment venues for bored farmhands. Hank and Sai landed
in a town called Last Chance, which consisted of little more than a fuel depot,
a bar called Rocco’s Paradise Saloon—apparently a franchise—and a general
mercantile resting in a clearing cut out of a thorny and inhospitable forest of
tangled shrubs. They stopped at the store to purchase supplies just in case
Chandler didn’t come through.

If they did have to run, Hank didn’t know how long they
would have to lay low. Thorne wasn’t likely to forget them any time soon, there
was a corporate price on their heads, and their one safe haven appeared to be a
pipe dream.

Still, he had to admit that the prospect of sitting on some
rock in the middle of nowhere wasn’t so bad, considering the company.

Sai selected some rough-weather clothing, holding the pants
up against herself to check the length. Hank drank in the sight of her. No, he
couldn’t complain.

“Honey, we’ve pretty much bought out the store. I think we’d
better be clearing out,” Hank said.

Sai smiled and carried an armload of supplies to the check stand.
“I wasn’t sure what sort of weather to buy for, so I covered all the bases.”

“That’s a good bet. You never can tell what you might need,
or how much. From the looks of this stuff, I think we’ll be okay for about six
months, more if we can find a nice spot.”

“You folks looking for a homestead, or are you prospecting?”
the clerk asked. He was a manta, a dark, oily-skinned being with a sleek dorsal
organ that fell down his spine, and two smaller flaps folded along either side
of his triangular face. He rang up their purchases using his uppermost set of
forelimbs while his middle set folded the clothes and packed them into bags. The
manta was a blur of effortless, fluid motion.

“Both and neither. We’ll take it as it comes. We’re just
looking forward to getting away from it all.”

“Well, you’re definitely headed in the right direction for
that,” the clerk said.

After paying the manta, they left the mercantile and walked
along the dirt road toward the tiny landing pad.

“I still don’t understand it,” Sai said. “Chandler told me
we’d be expected.”

“Maybe the message just never got through.”

“But without Randol’s protection, we may never be able to
come back home.”

“Would that really be so bad?” Hank asked.

She looked at him and gave him a half smile. “You’re the
country boy, remember? I’m a city girl at heart. I need the rush of traffic,
the lights of a city skyline, the concrete and steel. Let’s face it, Hank. I
can’t live without a proper toilet.”

“You’re going to have to for a while. Hell, in six months
you’ll be barefoot, milking cows, baling hay, working in the garden, and
building campfires by rubbing sticks together.”

“Well, what will you be doing?”

“Drinking beer in the ship. Why do you think I moved away
from home? I got tired of doing all that work!”

In the heat-distorted distance Hank could make out the shape
of the
Elsa
, along with that of another ship parked next to her.

“Something’s wrong,” Hank said.

“What are you talking about?”

“That ship wasn’t there before.”

“So? Ships land here all the time.”

“Elsa didn’t tell me about it.”

“Maybe she scanned it and figured it was okay.”

“No. She would have told me if any ship was landing. She’s a
lot more paranoid than I am.” Hank raised the comlink on his wrist to his lips.
“Elsa, are you all right?”

No answer.

“We’re in deep trouble, Sai.”

As they neared, they saw a line of fifteen men in exo-armor
waiting for them.

“Should we run?” Sai asked.

“Where to? There isn’t any place to hide. We’re completely
in the open. Besides, maybe we can talk our way out.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“No, but I’m supposed to try to comfort the hysterical
female in such a situation. I really think we’re screwed.”

Hank was careful to keep his hands away from his pistol as
they approached. The men seemed content to wait for them to get there at their
own speed. Finally, they were within shouting distance.

“Hank Jensen and Sai Collins?” the squad leader called.

“Nope, wrong folks. I’m Kimio Tanaka, and this is my wife,
Lizbeth.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Jensen, we’re here to help you. We were
sent by Lord Randol. There was a mistake yesterday. Our man Jorgeson has
disappeared. We suspect that he was bought off. Randol wants very much to speak
with you, and he offers his protection. Do you need to see our credentials?”

“Not really,” Hank said. “The fact that you aren’t shooting
at us right now is good enough for me.” He turned to Sai. “See? I told you we
could talk our way out of it.”

The squad leader shook Hank’s hand. “We apologize for the
confusion. We’re still looking into how this happened. Let’s get started. If
you would follow us?”

“Sure, that’s fine. One question though. How did you keep my
ship from warning me? I have an automatic security system that calls me
whenever someone comes near her.”

“We know you are justifiably jumpy right now. We wanted to
avoid you panicking and starting a firefight so we set up a suppression field
to interrupt communications so we could get a chance to talk.”

“Could you turn it off? I need to signal to get the doors
open.”

“Certainly.” The man took a device from his belt and aimed
it at the ship. He pressed a button and immediately Hank’s comlink came to
life.

“There’s a ship, Hank! You’d better get out of there!”

“Relax,” Hank said. “I know. These guys are Randol’s men.”

“Not them, you idiot! There’s another ship in attack mode,
swooping down on our position.”

Hank looked up in time to see an angular-shaped, silver
craft diving toward him. “Run! Everyone scatter! Elsa, dust off! You’re an easy
target.”

Elsa blasted from the surface just as plasma bolts struck
the ground all around them. She managed to break away unharmed, almost
barbecuing one of Randol’s security men in the process.

Hank and Sai ran toward a depression in the ground while
Randol’s men tried ineffectively to hit the small ship with their pulse rifles.
If nothing else, Hank was glad they made the attempt, as it drew the fire away
from Sai and himself.

Keeping low, Hank called Elsa. “Take them out, girl!”

Hank and Sai watched as
Elsa
banked and rolled into
position, vectoring toward the attacking ship that appeared too intent on the
ground activity to notice. With one blast from her plasma cannon,
Elsa
struck
the ship in the engine section, causing a small explosion. The smaller ship
listed to one side and began losing altitude. The pilot had enough control to
bring the ship to a rough landing a few hundred meters away. Smoke trailed from
the ship’s damaged engine.

The hold opened and men poured out. They crisscrossed the
area with blaster fire. Several of Randol’s men flew back screaming as they
were struck. Both sides took heavy losses.

Elsa
turned for a second pass and rained fire upon
the field. The attackers fled for what cover they could find.

Hank took the opportunity to move. Dragging Sai with him, he
crossed the flat landing pad and headed toward the woods.

“There are more ships entering orbit,” Elsa said in his ear.
“Let me pick you up. We’d better get out while we have the chance.”

As they ran, a small, one-man ship with M
ARLOWE
emblazoned on the side landed
almost directly in front of them. The hatch opened and Chandler waved toward
them. “Hey! Over here! Remember me? Come on, and I’ll get you out of there!”

Hank waved back but continued running. “No thanks, pal. We’ve
got our own ride.”

Elsa
swooped down and caught the two in her tractor
beam, along with a section of topsoil. Not waiting to draw them in, the ship
raced away from the battle, sweeping Hank and Sai through the air behind her.

“Yee-haw!” Hank screamed. “What a rush!”

The cargo hold opened and the tractor beam pulled them
inside. Hank and Sai landed hard, with dirt and grass flying all around them. Momentum
carried Hank forward. He tripped over a hovercycle and landed on the pod
containing the frozen pirate. Sai landed on top of him. He turned to her and
grinned. “You know, we haven’t done it here yet.”

“You are a sick man.”

“Oh, come on, your life isn’t complete until you’ve done it
on top of a frozen pirate.”

Brock rose from the culvert and dusted himself off. Morons. He
was surrounded by morons. This time they’d nearly gotten him killed. At least
the girl had escaped again.

He’d never counted on being shipped around Manspace, running
around with inbred pirates and incompetent assassins. He had certainly never
figured he’d be shot down on some rock, and in his wildest dreams he never
imagined that he would see Mike Chandler again.

Mike’s ship, the
Marlowe
, landed in the middle of the
firefight attempting to pick up the girl and pilot. What was his angle? Brock
never figured Mike for the bounty-hunter type. He’d been on the run too many
times himself. So if the price on the girl’s head wasn’t it, what was the
connection?

Brock filed the question away for later and ran toward one
of the intact pirate ships. He didn’t want to be left behind. As much as he
would have rather stayed on the planet instead of returning with the pirates,
until Brock had the actual coordinates of the base, he couldn’t end his
mission. He was convinced that sooner or later he would catch a break.

The ship was filling up fast. Just as he got to the doorway,
the man in front of him turned and said “There’s no more room. Get the next
ship.”

“What if there isn’t another one?” Brock asked.

“Not my problem.”

Brock grabbed the man by the lapels and twisted, throwing
the man into a tight turn across his shoulders and off the ship to the ground.
“Now it is,” Brock said, sealing the hatch behind him. “Moron.”

As the ship took off, Brock could see the man on the ground
cursing and flipping him off as the exhaust kicked up dust around him.

It was packed in the hold. Brock sat on the deck, leaned his
back against the wall, and shut his eyes. He was going to try to sleep as best
he could rather than try to make conversation. Speaking to these morons was
pointless.

Unfortunately, someone else wanted to talk. He felt someone
kick at the side of his boot.

“Hey, asshole,” a gruff voice said.

Brock squinted one eye open and looked up. A behemoth of a
man stood towering over him. He shook his head and closed his eye again.

Thud! Again the man kicked Brock’s boot.

“That was my brother you kicked off the ship,” the man said.

“So?”

“Well, me and my brother should be together. You kicked him
off. I don’t like that.”

Brock opened up both eyes and stared up at the brother. “We’ve
taken off already. But if you want to be with your brother so damn badly, I can
throw you out the airlock and you can join him.”

“I’d like to see you try, little man,” the brother said. He
made a big show of making a fist and rubbing it in anticipation of a fight.

“I don’t think you would, Mattie,” a voice interrupted. It
was Glenn, the new pirate leader. He walked over to them and looked at the
pair. “I’ve seen what Brock can do, and I think you’d better back off. I’m sure
your brother is fine.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, Mattie,” Glenn said.

Reluctantly, Mattie turned away, glaring back at Brock as he
did so.

Glenn sat down next to Brock.

“Thanks,” Brock said. “So why is a pirate lord slumming with
the grunts on a ground mission? If you don’t mind me asking.”