Corsair Menace (Privateer Tales Book 12) Read online

  “You have made a mistake, Liam Hoffen,” he said. “I control Azima. On my word, my fighters will fire upon you and your large companion. Azima will defend me and mine from your ship’s weapons. You will lose everything.”

  My AI replayed another micro contraction of his pupil.

  “Liam?” Sendrei asked, getting edgy.

  “Let me make this easy.” I tossed his thick reading pad on top of the grav-suits. Upon contact, the pad sparked noisily and caught fire.

  In response, his troops adjusted their weapons so they were at the ready.

  “Sign our agreement or we can just have this out now. I believe if you were as powerful in Azima as you say, you wouldn’t be forced to live twenty kilometers out of town.”

  “You will risk your life and that of your companion on your estimate?” Goboble asked.

  “Sign it, Goboble,” Belvakuski said.

  Goboble accepted the pad and signed. My HUD showed the transfer of suit controls to me and ship controls to a Goboble, immediately followed by another change as it shifted to a Genteresk interest.

  “You may kill them now,” Belvakuski said as she turned and jogged off in the direction of Fleet Afoot.

  “Any last words, Liam Hoffen?” Goboble asked.

  I pointed over his shoulder at Tabby and Marny in their Popeyes, falling from Tuuq two hundred meters from our position. “You might reconsider your stance.”

  “Take them,” Goboble ordered, a blaster pistol appearing in his hand a moment before he fired.

  My torso burned and I was pushed to the side by the impact of Goboble’s blaster round. I accepted the force and turned with it, pulling my blaster pistol from its holster and rolling onto the ground. I brought my weapon up as I turned back to where Goboble and Ferin had been standing. The bright orange flash of a long nano-blade wielded by Sendrei, arced across Goboble. Surreally, the stone-like skin split with ease and Goboble’s head toppled from his body in slow motion.

  Instead of returning fire, Ferin turned from the fight. He ran toward the line of fighters who were moving to get a clear line of fire. Hakenti and Charena both drew swords and engaged with Sendrei. Expertly, he adjusted to the two and sparks flew as his nano-blade deflected their weapons.

  I lined up on Hakenti and fired just as two bone-jarring thawhumps shook the ground. A pair of grenades had exploded next to the heavy mini-tank, lifting its front end from the ground. Sendrei, Hakenti and Charena were separated as a wave of debris swept out from the explosions. My suit hardened against chunks of rock and metal and my ears rang from the blast wave that impacted just before my suit’s helmet closed.

  Without missing a beat, Sendrei broke from his fight with the twin Felio. Incomprehensibly, he turned and rushed toward the mini-tank, jumping atop it. His rush toward the enemy caught those fighters who were still on their feet off-guard. Their stunned condition wouldn’t last, so I laid down covering fire with my blaster pistol.

  I was disappointed to realize the Felio armor I’d dismissed earlier as crude, was actually quite cleverly constructed. It had some property that drew blaster rounds away from the seams of the armor and allowed the thick plates to absorb the shot. I was, however, rewarded with a loud pa-ting — almost the sound of a hammer on steel — as my round found its home. The Felio I’d struck stumbled backward, but it was clear I’d done no permanent damage.

  The mini-tank Sendrei now stood atop, spun to orient on the Popeyes, the soldiers inside having recovered from the grenade blasts. Sendrei seemed to have a crazy strategy. Tabby and Marny couldn’t engage the tank while he was on top and its rounds were certainly big enough to damage the mechanized suits if it successfully landed a shot with its thirty-millimeter turret.

  I felt useless as I fired my heavy blaster. Time and time again the rounds were absorbed by the strange armor on Goboble’s thugs. Fortunately, the constant barrage from Tabby and Marny’s Popeyes kept them from turning on me. Unlike my pistol rounds, the Popeye’s ammo had no trouble penetrating the armor. Squishies were dropping quickly.

  Thud-thud-thud. Tuuq’s turret lined up on one of the patrol vehicles sitting outside the action. A half dozen shots later, it exploded and Tuuq spun to line up on another vehicle.

  A well-aimed round from the tank caught Tabby’s shoulder and she was lifted and spun around, disappearing into the crowd of troops. My attention was forced away as small-arms fire erupted from the tank and Sendrei leapt off and to the side. The Pogona who’d greeted us when we first arrived clawed at the hatch opening, trying desperately to get out of the vehicle. He was quickly swallowed by a cylinder of smoke and flame that erupted from within the still open hatch.

  “Armistice has been requested by Ferin of Enalti,” my AI intoned.

  “Accept. Cease Fire! Cease Fire!” I called over the tactical channel.

  As quickly as it started, the shooting stopped. I pulled myself up from the ground and inspected the round I’d taken to my abdomen. The armored vac-suit had absorbed most of the blaster’s impact, but I still had a small amount of bleeding. I’d have a fantastic bruise to show for my troubles.

  Uneasily, Goboble’s troops held their weapons ready and looked to Ferin. The weaselly Pogona waved his hands up and down to calm the tensions.

  Someone whined loudly. “He killed Goboble.”

  I wasn’t immediately able to make out who said it, but it became obvious when a Pogona fired, striking me in the shoulder. My suit absorbed much of the shot, as it hit well centered on the chest plate. I was forced to step back, and stumbled to a knee as I fought against the pain.

  A dark shape filled my vision as Tabby landed heavily in front of me in her Popeye. More blaster fire ricocheted off her suit, but the armor held easily against the squishy assault.

  Fire erupted from Marny’s weapon as she stomped into the midst of Goboble’s remaining troops. Without mercy, she fired into the crowd and swung her great arms at those who attempted to close in on her, flinging them into the nearby field.

  Finally, the firing ceased and the remaining half dozen of Goboble’s thugs raised their arms in defeat.

  “Where’s Ferin?” I asked, walking up next to where Marny prowled angrily, looking for any who would challenge her. The bloodlust of combat was still coursing through her veins.

  I looked down at Goboble’s dead body. His head had been trampled in the chaos. It seemed such a waste.

  “I am here, Captain Hoffen,” Ferin picked himself up from a shallow swale between the empty lots.

  “Where are you going?” Tabby growled, bounding quickly after Hakenti and Charena, who were attempting to slink off.

  “Did you know this is what Belvakuski planned?” I asked as Ferin approached. I had to give him credit for walking into our group, given how we’d just torn apart the army sent to kill us.

  “I suspected, as you should have. I can think of no other reason to bring so much firepower to an exchange,” he said. “However, I would not have anticipated this outcome. You are to be commended.”

  “The rest of you,” I said. “Clean up this mess and I’ll let you go.”

  “What about me?” Ferin asked.

  “How about you and I call it even?” I said. “I feel I owe you one after we handed you over to the Abasi. I have no quarrel with you.”

  His eyes narrowed as he considered me. “You are not what I expected, Liam Hoffen. I accept. You and I are even today. Hakenti, Charena and I would take Goboble’s body back to his estate.”

  “Knock yourselves out,” I said.

  “That sounds unproductive.”

  “Sorry, Human idiom.”

  “Not at all what I expected,” he said, nodding to Hakenti, who picked up Goboble’s body and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Hail Azima ground control,” I said, watching the three depart with Goboble’s parts. My goal was to let Azima know we were done fighting so they wouldn’t send an army our way.

  “Azima Municipal Control.” The Pogona who appeared on my HUD was
someone new. The male was older with a heavy, protruding chin and high, arched eyebrows. “Captain Hoffen, per Confederation of Planets articles on Frontier Government, I hereby assess damages in the amount of eighty-five thousand credits. It is my judgement that hostilities could have been avoided and I therefore assess an additional fifty thousand in penalties. This matter is closed.”

  “Are you saying I owe this?” I asked, incredulously.

  “As a primary surviving participant, it is your responsibility to pay damages and penalties,” he replied.

  “I don’t suppose you’re in the market for some lightly used military equipment?”

  Chapter 6

  Evening Prayers

  Ada set Tuuq on the pavement in the midst of chaos.

  “There was no way I thought you’d put us into more debt with a simple exchange,” Nick said, shaking his head as he walked down Tuuq’s still-damaged loading ramp which doubled as her transom when retracted.

  “Sendrei, you’re hurt.” Flaer, with our portable med-kit in hand, hurried down the ramp and raced to where Sendrei was kneeling over a fallen Pogona. I wiped at my bruised side, instinctively trying to find the blood I’d felt running down the inside of my suit. One of the advantages of the armored suits was that they sealed almost immediately if breached. I came up with nothing.

  Nick saw my reaction and chuckled. “Good luck competing with Sendrei on that. How bad is it?”

  “I’ll live. What do you suppose we’re supposed to do with the bodies?” I asked. I was a little off-put with just how easily Azima washed their hands of everything but assessing fees.

  “Azima has a morgue,” Nick said. “If we drop them off, it’s two-fifty a body. They’ll make next-of-kin notifications.”

  “What if they pick up?”

  “Five hundred. And before you ask, there’s no bulk discount. They did say they’d send a guy out with bags, no additional charge.”

  “How did we get to this point in our lives?” I asked. We’d lined up the dead on the concrete pad. Flaer and Sendrei were tending to the remaining who were too injured to slink off.

  “Why would Goboble pull that trigger?” Nick asked. “He had to see it would be a bloodbath.”

  “Belvakuski put him up to it. That crate was rigged with enough voltage to put me on my ass three times over. The contract he tried to get me to sign had us staying in business together. He also upped his percentage of ownership to seventy-five percent. And what in Neptune’s seas is Ferin doing out of jail? I thought he was a wanted criminal. He sure didn’t act like one of Goboble’s henchmen.”

  “I have a feeling this isn’t over,” Nick said.

  “By my count, we thoroughly wrecked one patrol vehicle and Sendrei toasted that mini-tank.” I gestured to the still smoking vehicle. "The personnel carrier looks like it's still up and so are those two four-wheeled, armored vehicles."

  “Mini-tank, Stryker and Armored Patrol Craft or APCs. Marines have clever names for everything. You might as well learn them,” Marny said, having approached in her Popeye.

  “It’s worth the extra money to have Azima morgue pick up the bodies.” I changed subjects. “I can’t deal with that duty right now.” While I didn’t have moral objections to killing people trying to do the same to me, the finality of it still weighed on me. Once again, we'd been faced with the consequences of resisting corruption and greed, which was apparently not just a human condition.

  Nick was about to argue when Marny stepped in. “Cap’s right. Let’s focus on the living. We’ve collected more than enough equipment to cover a few thousand for body recovery.”

  “What in the frak did they get all over these suits?” Tabby asked, carrying in the crate that held our old grav-suits. She set the box down a little too hard and it broke open on the deck of Tuuq’s hold. The device that had created a high-voltage charge fell out and arced wildly upon contact with the steel deck. Tabby stomped on it, causing a small explosion beneath her heavily armored boot, which threw her back onto her butt in the middle of the smelly suits.

  At first, no one spoke. Nick, Marny and I looked at each other wide eyed. Tabby wasn’t prissy by any means, but icky wasn’t her speed.

  “You have to be frakking … This is just great!” Tabby slammed her hands against the deck, sending a shudder through the ship.

  “Liam. I’m registering an explosion in the cargo hold,” Ada called over the tactical channel. “And something else; it’s like we got hit. Is there something underneath us? I’m not picking up anything but the four of you down there right now.”

  I raised my eyebrows while exchanging a look with Nick and Marny. It was more than any of us could take and we burst out laughing.

  “It’s not funny, Ada,” Tabby called. “Goboble did something bad to these suits and I fell in it.”

  Her admission sent us into gales of laughter as a red flush rose in her face.

  “You’re all horrible,” Ada chastised us. “Liam, help her out of that.”

  “She’s in a Popeye,” I defended. “I can’t even move her.”

  Marny stepped over to Tabby and held out her hand. Tabby lightly backhanded her offer and popped up. Her foot slid on one of the suits until she reached equilibrium.

  “I’ll get some bags,” I said. I had no doubt it would fall to me to deal with the suits as I was the resident person for all-things-disgusting.

  It took an hour to clean up the battle debris. The Stryker we damaged in our first confrontation with Goboble was still operational. The mini-tank rolled fine, but the internal controls were completely fried. We’d have to tow it.

  We’d just loaded the burned-out patrol vehicle into Tuuq’s hold when two vehicles arrived on the main road from Azima.

  “Nick James?” a middle-aged Pogona asked, jumping from the cab of a large flat-bed.

  “Yup,” Nick said.

  I walked with him as we greeted the morgue representative. The second Pogona was someone I recognized. We’d dealt with the trader, Mangusi before.

  “Sign here,” the first man said. I looked over Nick’s shoulder at the receipt for picking up the bodies of the fallen. It seemed such a mundane process for the dead. Upon receipt of the signature, he gestured to two younger Pogona who jumped from the back of the truck and unloaded body bags.

  We were just about to turn back to our cleanup effort when Mangusi stopped us. “Many pardons, my friends. I am not here in the service of the dead.”

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “It has come to my attention that you have damaged equipment you might be interested in parting with.”

  “That’s fast,” I said. “Let me guess. For a significant discount, you’d be interested in helping us unburden ourselves from an unwanted load.”

  “Fair words, my friend. I am very interested in providing to you a bid that would convenience you greatly,” he said.

  “You’re welcome to look. I’d take thirty-five thousand for the ruined patrol vehicle.” I pointed at the four-wheel APC that could comfortably hold five, had a small mounted turret and was sitting in Tuuq's hold. “I’m afraid the others aren’t currently for sale, but I’d consider selling the personnel armor. I’ll give you a small break due to wear and tear, but realize, we’re prepared to clean it and sell it.”

  “Thirty-five thousand is a good price for an operational vehicle,” the Pogona argued. “I believe that value drops significantly after it has been — as you say — ruined.”

  “You know as well as do I, the four-wheel patrol vehicles are worth upwards of ninety-thousand when new. We won’t have any difficulty repairing these and getting twice what I’ve offered.”

  “Twenty-five thousand,” he said. “And if you include the small arms you’ve captured, I should be able to convince my brother in Azima Judiciary to drop the punitive fine and reduce the damages to sixty thousand.”

  I shook my head. Azima’s assessment of damage had seemed awfully high and now I understood why. Abuse of power wasn’t new to me. The
fact remained, under Confederation law, the Azima judiciary was free to make the laws as they saw fit. We were in a bind.

  “I think we can work something out,” I said. “I’m convinced I could take this gear to Manetra and do better, but I’m all about convenience today. How about you take your pick of the two patrol vehicles and I’ll throw in the personnel armor and small arms? You pay us twenty-five thousand in hard currency and convince Azima to give us a pass on damages and fines.”

  “If you would settle for twenty thousand, I believe we could reach an agreement.” Mangusi pulled a pouch from his pocket and handed it to me.

  When I opened it, I found it contained the same platinum fingers I’d traded with him so many months ago for replicator parts.

  “Have your brother send notification of our release from debt to Azima and we have a deal,” I said, pocketing the platinum.

  No sooner had the words left my mouth than my HUD pinged with the arrival of a communication — the requested release from Azima.

  We’d been swindled, but I was smart enough to know when I’d been outmaneuvered.

  “Mangusi, your reputation as a trader remains intact,” I said and extended my hand.

  “I’m not getting in that thing,” Tabby said.

  “Just smell it.” I handed the clean grav-suit to her. We’d borrowed Tuuq’s tiny captain’s quarters to change in. Fortunately, Nick had the foresight to install a suit cleaner and I’d run both of our suits through. When asked, Nick admitted to being squeamish about wearing grav-suits after they’d been worn by others, even if they had been taken care of properly.

  Things had settled down. We’d cleaned the mess off the green landing zone and chained the mini-tank to the Stryker that Goboble had used as his command center.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled on my own grav-suit. It had taken considerable work on Nick’s part to get the suits to recognize Goboble’s death and allow us admin control, but he was clever and finally found the right answer.