Poisoned Pawn (5 page)

The smell of the fleece overpowered the spice in the air. The men were oblivious. They shifted the huge bales as if they weighed nothing. I stood back and let them.

The sky overhead was gray with clouds. Rain fell intermittently, a thin drizzle that didn’t make anything much wetter than it was already from humidity. I moved back into the protection offered by the hatch door. Time passed. The men went in empty handed and came out with a bale of fleece slung over one shoulder. The cargo haulers filled steadily. When one reached capacity, one of the men slapped the control panel. The hauler ground around and crawled off through the mud to a gate at the far end of the field.

It was growing dark by the time the first hold had been unloaded. The men showed no sign of wanting to stop, so I moved over to the other side with them and opened the hatch. The rain fell again. The men went in and out. It didn’t grow any darker. That puzzled me. I walked away from the ship.

All around the field, the mud mounds glowed. The light was enough to rival the overcast day. I caught the fuzzy glint of what looked like wings on creatures crawling across the mounds. My stomach growled, reminding me that I’d been standing around watching the cargo get unloaded for quite some time. Jasyn and Clark hadn’t come back yet. I wondered if I should worry.

I wasn’t sure what I felt about Clark joining the crew. He hadn’t said anything more about his warning. Targon was after me, though I didn’t know why and Clark hadn’t said. I shifted my feet in the mud and wondered what I could do about a crime syndicate chasing me. Maybe if we shifted our route farther from Tebros it would help. Our cargo was headed for Shamustel, on Clark’s suggestion.

Why did Clark want me to go to Shamustel? Who did Clark work for? He acted almost Patrol, but that could easily be explained. Most pilots were trained at a Patrol Academy. But what if Clark was Patrol? What if he worked for Lowell?

I shook my head. My paranoid tendencies were out of control. Clark was just a pilot looking for a berth. At least he didn’t snore and he wasn’t convinced I was his destiny. I could live with that.

“This is the shop.” Clark waved at a low building that looked just like the others circling the muddy landing field.

“How do you know?”

“The sign is green. Everything is color coded.”

Jasyn squelched through a puddle. “I hope it doesn’t have a mud floor.”

Clark opened the door for her. The floor inside was bare plascrete, but it was drier than outside. They both entered, leaving muddy footprints near the door.

“Help you I may?” A short man hurried up to them. “Credit chip, please?”

Jasyn handed him the allowance chip.

The man slid it into a reader. His wide eyes blinked, twice. “All purchases are for personal use only. You are not authorized to trade in Dru’Ott goods. Please select from catalog. Credit amount listed at top of screen.” He tapped a kiosk screen.

Jasyn scrolled through the first few pages of the catalog. “They have everything here, except food.” She tapped through several pages at random. “Nothing we really need.”

“So, have some fun,” Clark suggested. “Buy whatever catches your fancy. The credit isn’t any good anywhere else.”

Jasyn frowned. “So, no profit this trip. Personal goods won’t fill our account.”

“Refueling and servicing the ship are paid for. The total is what you have left.” Clark leaned against the kiosk.

“That much?” She perched on a stool in front of the screen. “Then I’m going to have fun. What size are you?”

“What?”

“Dace is right. If you’re flying with us, you should be wearing something other than gray. How do I get this to match colors?”

The short man showed Jasyn how to use the ordering system.

Clark wandered to the far end of the room. Wide windows allowed a view of the grubs on the other side. Workers crawled over the larvae, cleaning and tending them. Human workers walked between the cases holding the pillow size creatures. He watched the process, one ear cocked to hear anything Jasyn might say.

So far, the job hadn’t been hard. Dace and Jasyn were easy to be around and easy to influence. All he’d had to do was suggest Shamustel and Dace had agreed. Maybe it was too easy. He hadn’t seen any signs of a threat, but Viya Station was dominated by Patrol and Dru’Ott was not welcoming to any kind of criminal element. Dru’Ott wasn’t welcoming to anyone not part of its weird ecology. Dace should be safe enough at the ship by herself.

“You’re kidding.”

He turned at Jasyn’s exclamation. She smiled as she tapped the screen. Clark loved the way her eyes crinkled. Jasyn was beautiful, but she was also off limits. As much as Jasyn intrigued him, she was part of his assignment. She looked up from the screen. Clark pretended he’d been watching the grubs the whole time.

“You have to see this, Clark. Imitation partha silk that looks just like the real thing.” She waved him over. “What colors do you think I should get for Dace?”

He looked at the image of the gossamer dress on the screen. Reds, oranges, and golds swirled in a fiery dance of fabric. “Dace wouldn’t wear that.”

“Oh, yes, she will. How much do you want to bet I can get her to wear that dress?”

“That one? The colors would suit her.”

“Twenty credits says I can get her to wear it.”

Clark scratched his ear. “I’ll give you two weeks to get her to wear that somewhere off the ship.”

“Three weeks. There’s nowhere to wear it here.”

“Shamustel has some nice restaurants and clubs.”

She gave him a searching look, flirting through her long lashes. “You’ve been there before?”

“A few times.” Clark shrugged, looking studiously at the screen, ignoring the way her smoldering look made his heart beat faster. Jasyn was definitely off limits.

Jasyn tapped the screen, adding Dace’s size to the dress order. “I’ve bought everything I can think of and we still have close to a hundred credits left on the account.”

“You could save it for another time.”

Jasyn shook her head. Her dark hair slid like silk over her shoulders. “Dace wants to move on to a different sector. And there isn’t much profit in shipping with Dru’Ott, not unless we could get a license to sell their goods, but it’s not worth the cost for just our ship.”

“It’s probably safer.”

“What do you mean?”

Oops. He had to watch his words. “Just that I heard rumors the Targon Syndicate had a price on Dace’s head. Targon doesn’t reach into Cygnus Sector.”

“How do you know that? Are you an expert on crime syndicate territories? Or are you a bounty hunter just waiting for your opportunity?” Her flirtatious look hardened into something cold and dangerous.

Lowell had warned him Dace could be dangerous to handle. Lowell hadn’t said anything about Jasyn. Clark was walking in a minefield with her. “I’m a pilot, hired to help you fly your ship. Speaking of which, Dace only negotiated terms for the flight here. Are you going to leave me here?”

Jasyn turned back to the screen, tapping a random catalog page. “Where would we find a replacement here? We can talk payment terms later. Although you might find yourself unemployed when we get to Shamustel. She thinks you’re Patrol.”

He shrugged. “I went to the Academy. But I’m not Patrol.”

“Then how do you know so much about Targon Syndicate?”

“Dace had a friend in security on Viya Station who passed on a warning when he heard what ship hired me.”

“Dace had a friend in station security? You have to be telling the truth. Because as a lie, no one who knew Dace would believe that one.”

“She believed me when I told her.”

“She knew Targon had a price on her head and she didn’t say a word to me?” Jasyn drummed her fingers on the edge of the kiosk. “I knew she was holding something back. She’s got more secrets than a drufigger has tentacles. That looks interesting.” She tapped the screen.

Clark leaned over her stool. Her scent of flowers and honey was very distracting. He made himself focus on the item she’d selected. “Yulan Crystals? Do you know how to play?”

“I’ve never heard of the game. It says for two to six players.”

“It’s a strategy game. I haven’t played in years.”

“Then we’ll buy the set. I’m getting tired of Comets.” She clicked a few more links. “A lute?”

“You should get that for Dace. It’s a hobby,” he added when she looked at him. “Playing a musical instrument can be very relaxing. You said yourself that she’s too tense. Too many nightmares. That might help.”

Jasyn turned back to the screen. “They include a tutorial download. Click here for a sample.” The room filled with the delicate strains of a lute. “Very pretty. And we still have thirty seven credits left. What would you like besides the clothes we already ordered?”

“I’ll let you have fun, Jasyn. I should help with the cargo.” He’d been gone almost too long. His mission was to watch Dace, not Jasyn. Although if he had his choice, it wouldn’t be hard to watch Jasyn. Dru’Ott should be safe, but he should check on Dace just the same.

“Trying to ditch me, Clark?”

“I’m not big on shopping, that’s all.”

“Mm hm.” She tapped her screen. “You offered to come.”

“Because I didn’t want to stand around in the mud.”

“No, you left Dace doing that.”

“So did you.”

Jasyn grinned. “She hates shopping more than you seem to. Go on. She’ll probably tell you to cook dinner or scrub filters instead.”

“As long as she doesn’t insist on cooking. Let me know when the order is ready and I’ll help carry it to the ship.”

Jasyn nodded, already scrolling to another section of the catalog.

Clark walked to the door. Daylight had faded outside. Rain fell in a thin drizzle. He hesitated, his hand on the door. He glanced back at Jasyn. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger while she browsed. He could imagine what that strand of hair would feel like in his hands. It was dangerous to imagine such things. He pushed the door open and walked out into the muddy evening, disgusted with himself. How could he get involved, especially with a merchant crew? His father would never accept it if Clark gave up his career in the Patrol. Why was he even considering such a move? He was there to watch Dace for a few months at the most. Then, he’d move on to another assignment and never see either of them again.

Why did that thought make him sad? He squished through a puddle on his way back to the Phoenix Rising.

* * *

I yawned as I watched the cargo haulers load my cargo bays. They didn’t seem to want to stop. I didn’t mind. The sooner we were loaded, the sooner we would be back in space on our way to somewhere new. Somewhere farther away from Targon. Somewhere my luck might change and I could just settle into a decent trade route.

And die of boredom. I leaned against the side of my ship, watching as they loaded crates into the bays.

My com buzzed. I pulled it from my pocket. Someone had pinged our ship, requesting the standard info packet—registry, names of crew, cargo specs, and a few other things. I frowned. It wouldn’t have been port authority, they pinged us as we entered the system and requested landing clearance. Any other planet and it wouldn’t be strange at all. It was normal business practice for a company looking for a shipping contract. But here everything was already contracted and negotiated by port authority.

I approached the nearest worker. “How much longer are you going to be?”

He blinked, slow and wide-eyed, like the lady in the port office. “Cargo to Shamustel will be loaded.”

I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. I glanced inside the cargo bay. The workers knew what they were doing. They balanced the load as they went, strapping everything securely in place. They were just over halfway through loading the ship.

“Close the hatches when you finish, all right?”

The man blinked again. “Cargo to Shamustel will be loaded.”

“Fine. I’ll be back.” They didn’t need me to supervise them, not that I would have been able to change anything they did anyway.

I headed around the ship to the airlock, wiping mud off my feet as much as I could before crossing the lounge to the cockpit. I stopped in the doorway.

“Clark? When did you get back?”

He jumped, as if I’d caught him being sneaky, which I had. “Dinner is in the warmer. Jasyn was having so much fun shopping I left her to spend all the money. You don’t mind, do you?”

I folded my arms, fixing his too innocent look with my best glare. “Someone just pinged our ship. Any idea who or why?”

He turned his innocent look up a notch. “No idea, captain.”

I glared.

“Do you want me to find out?” He turned to the com station.

I watched while he typed the query into our computer system. What was he doing in the ship when he was supposed to be shopping with Jasyn? Passing messages, of course.

“How’s Lowell doing these days?” I asked. “That is what you’re doing in here by yourself, passing messages to him?”

He didn’t look up from the station. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain. It looks like the ship information was requested by someone using the planetary datanet. Anonymous request so I’m afraid I can’t get more than that.”

“Who do you really work for, Clark? It isn’t me, no matter what our contract may state. You’re here to spy on us. Why, I can’t even start to guess. As I’ve tried telling everyone who thinks otherwise, Jasyn and I are traders, nothing more.”

“With very overpowered engines and scanning equipment most Patrol ships don’t have. Who do you really work for, Dace?”

“Myself. What about the warning you passed on about Targon? Did you make that up?”

He shook his head. “Targon wants your head on a platter. They’re offering a reward of fifty thousand credits.”

“Are you a bounty hunter trying to cash in?”

“If I were, would I be sitting in your cockpit? I could have turned you in on Viya Station or suggested somewhere other than our current plan. Shamustel doesn’t tolerate organized crime.” He typed a string of code into the computer. “That should tell us who pinged the ship, since you’re so worried.”