Galactic Freighter: Scourge of the Deep Space Pirates (Contact) (24 page)

"Well, I hadn't expected that, Captain." Buck laughed at what that might mean, but suspected the Seltsam ship would be needed. What went unsaid, would the entire crew of Mulholland be as trustworthy? Jacob Farley's treachery telling their captors aboard the Blue Marlin of Buck's presence came to mind.

"I wish him luck and you, Sir." Conner stood, patted his stomach, and extended his hand. "An excellent and welcome dinner, Lord Fryman. Please give my compliments to your cook."

"One more question, Captain." Buck stopped in the passageway, and leaned against the bulkhead. "Why was Mahoney interested in Seltsam? I can't come up with a reason that makes sense."

Conner rubbed his chin. "Logical question. Seltsam guards the entry to Cratten."

"And?" Buck urged his guest.

"Cratten is the gateway to what we believe is alien space."

"Alien? You mean like—"

"Like difference species, Lord Fryman."

"And you think Mahoney has reason to do something in that direction?"

"Unknown, my Lord. Don't have a clue but my gut says yes."

Buck escorted the Captain to his shuttle and then headed for the SEAL's ready room to brief Rasby before going dirtside.

That done, the two walked down the passageway to the hanger.

Before he boarded the communal pinnace, Rasby handed an envelope to his number two. Both men nodded and the hatch closed.

"The envelope?" Buck asked. "What was that about?" He had a good idea what it contained.

"Standard procedure, Sir. Just in case. It's a letter to his family, his father and mother."

Buck stood alone as the pinnace left the hanger bay. These men were risking their lives to do their Emperor's bidding, a man they had they'd never met and never flinched or questioned why.

A somber Buck Fryman slowly trod up the passageway to his cabin. He'd risked his neck a number of times but that seemed different. He always knew why or until today thought so.

***

Aboard the pinnace, Rasby took his seat near the rear and secured his safety harness. He tried to help the lady next to him who struggled with her restraint but surrendered to the flight attendant who added her expertise. His effort gained him a smile from the blue clad uniformed woman and a warm thank you.

An hour later, with a phone number whose usefulness he doubted, Rasby exited the pinnace and hailed an airtaxi.

With the names and addresses of the refit companies on Barnard's Star, he instructed the driver go to the first on his list.

He’d been coached on what questions to ask and how—namely that Forager needed some enhancements, never mentioning the Teutonic.

It became apparent this company hadn't done the conversion.

Rasby called on two more shops with the same results. However, the fourth was quite different. This shop had done the conversion. Surprisingly, the shop manager, quite proud of the work, had no reservations, even showed Rasby the ship's detail plans and telling how they accomplished the job.

Left alone for a few minutes, Rasby slipped a chip into the viewer and copied the detail plans of the converted naval ship.

With the information in hand, he told the manager someone would be in contact with him. First, they had to sell their load of barley seed. With that, he returned to Forager.

***

Buck answered the blinking icon and read the screen. Commander Rasby had more than justified the risk securing the information on the Teutonic.

Summoned to Buck’s cabin, Rasby saluted.

"Commander,” Buck said, “I think you missed your calling. Now all we have to do is find some way to make this work for us."

Rasby decided to mention the phone number given to him by the flight attendant. "And you bein' a rugged lookin' handsome devil think you can charm her inta helpin'," Tommy quipped.

"Just a thought although I have no idea how she might fit whatever we come up with." Rasby ignored the rave review. "I do think the people, at least at the refit shops, are not all that happy with the bunch running this place. The taxi drivers didn't have much to say just recited all the gin joints and whorehouses a man could visit."

Buck studied the man for a moment. "Might be worth a try. I'm like you, I don't see how she could help, but you never know. If you've misjudged this woman—" He stopped then added, "I won't order or ask you to do this."

"I'll do it," Rasby said without hesitation.

The next day, dressed in dark blue slacks and a pullover sweater against the fall weather that occasionally and suddenly dropped the planet's temperature, he boarded the communal pinnace for Barnard's Star.

Walking outside the space terminal, he pulled the hand-held comm from his pocket and dialed the flight attendant's number.

A sleepy voice answered.

"Hello, did I waken you?" Rasby asked.

"Yes, and I hate you. Who is this?"

"Remember the guy who asked for your phone number yesterday on the pinnace?"

"Lots of guys ask but I don't give it."

"You did to me."

"Oh, now I remember." She seemed more awake and willing to talk. "I don't know you and have no particular desire for that to change."

"Then why did you give me your number"

"A weak moment. You reminded me of a helpless man I met once."

"Would you go to dinner with me?" Rasby asked. "You pick the place, and I hope it's the best in town."

"I don't know your name and you don't know mine. It isn't ladylike to date a man and have to call him
hey you
." She gave a short laugh.

"I'm Donald Rasby," he said and added, "Don works fine."

She let a low breath escape. "I don't know," she hesitantly said. "Doing something like this isn't my style."

"We can meet at the dinner place. It's all on me."

She hesitated again. "Okay, but dinner then I go home—alone."

"Done," Rasby, said. "When and where?"

She gave the name of a bistro and time.

It sounded expensive and Rasby patted the pocket full of Lord Fryman's credits. He slapped his head realizing he'd forgotten to get her name.

He wasn't dressed for what he'd cooked up, and took an airtaxi to a clothing store. Following the clerk's suggestion, he agreed on a dark blue blazer and gray slacks. With that done, he still had hours to kill and decided to hire a taxi and see the city.

As dark descended, he checked his chrono, and told the driver to find a descent hotel near the restaurant where the two were to meet.

Rasby roused from his nap at the chime and again checked the time, one hour, just enough to freshen up and dress.

Ten minutes before they were to meet, he stood in front of Piccolo Mondo, waiting.

Fashionably, ten minutes late, an airtaxi stopped, and the attendant from the pinnace stepped out and greeted him. Dressed in a dark blue cap sleeve jewel dress with a matching shawl and shoes, the woman turned heads to eye her beauty.

"Thank you. I don't get to wear this often. Seldom go to a high class place."

He leaned close and said, "My lady, forgive me, I failed to get your name. And I hate the
hey you
as well."

"Brenna, Brenna Smith." She added a smile.

"Hard to understand, Brenna. I'd think you would have guys waiting in line to date you."

"Some. But most are dull as plastiboard."

He escorted her inside and the maître d' seated them.

Rasby ordered wine and sniffed the cork, nodded approval and the steward poured for both.

Small talk passed back and forth, as they delighted in the dinner offering: baked fish sautéed in lemon juice, and covered with finely ground almond nuts.

"A freighter, you say. Somehow, I doubt that. You don't talk like a deck hand. Why is that?"

"Can't a freighter use proper speech? You're a flight attendant. That calling isn't quite the same as a first lady."

"Touché. I have a master's degree. Couldn't stand the sedate life of a schoolteacher. Decided to try my hand at this. My first job was on a cruise ship and then a deep space voyager. That bored me stiff and the cruise ship—well I got tired of the groping. Most people think all the women aboard those ships are there as play things. Got married; that was a big mistake. Lasted less than a year." She cocked her head waiting for his recital.

It had worked before, so Rasby decided to give it another shot. This might end the evening and land him in jail. "I am a Navy SEAL in the service of Sebastian, Emperor of Iona. His son, the prince, was murdered while on a cruise, and I'm part of the group ordered to find his killers."

Brenna gawked at him, not saying a word for long moments. "You're either a consummate liar or telling the truth. Which is it? Which is it?" she repeated. The second time her voice was less strident.

"The truth." Their eyes locked in what amounted to a stare-down.

"Why are you telling me this?" Something between fear and anger laced her voice.

"I need help and you're the solitary person I know on Barnard's Star." Rasby recognized he was placing both at risk and told her so.

Brenna, looked away, doubt seemed to mask her face.

"Your ship? Are there others there to help you?"

"Yes, but what I need is some way to get aboard a ship called the Teutonic. We must know if the prince's killer is aboard."

She gasped. "That ship belongs to Jarred Mahoney. I heard he lost an entire planet to Iona. The man must hate everything that reeks of that empire. He's now one of the wealthiest men in this sector and known for doing as he pleases. Ruthless. Have you any idea what this means?"

"I think so. We have no illusions. These people have revolted against Sebastian and killed the prince as a warning for Iona to back off, quit the war." He gave her what detail he had on the rebellion in one of the far reaches of Iona's empire. It wasn't complete and he couldn't handle all the questions Brenna asked.

"Why me? What in the world could I do against someone like Mahoney?"

"I have no idea," Rasby said. "Maybe you can't help."

Brenna didn't respond and looked at her hands.

"Maybe you shouldn't. You don't know me at all. I could be getting you into more trouble than either of us can handle," Rasby cautioned. "You do know your way around the planet and could be a good sounding board. Give us names of people, places to stay away from, or that may be friendly or dissatisfied with their situation." He studied her reaction, very much wanting her to say yes.

She looked away and then back at him. "I was on the pinnace that called on the Teutonic a week before you and I met. From what gossip I heard, the ship is heavily armed.

"No one on the ship even took notice of me as I checked off the unloaded supplies. The crew complained about not being able to leave the ship."

"Brenna, whether you agree to help or not, even see me again, you have given me the very information we needed—confirmation that we desperately needed."

He thanked her as the desert arrived. Not another word passed between them until he said, "Are you ready to leave?"

Brenna nodded.

He paid the bill, and they walked from the bistro, her hand on his arm.

He nodded toward the bell captain and an airtaxi slid into place. As he opened the door, Rasby asked, "May I see you again. I promise not to call when you're asleep."

"Yes, I'd like that. I'm scheduled the next two days, then two off. Any time after ten in the mornings."

He gave her a cheek buss, closed the door, and handed the driver a full credit.

"I don't know where we're going so," the driver paused, shrugged, "your change?"

Brenna recited her address as Rasby listened and said, "Keep it."

That brought nods and smiles from Brenna and the driver.

Rasby returned to the hotel, got his gear, paid the bill, and had the doorman signal for an airtaxi. An hour later, he was on the communal pinnace headed for Forager.

Chapter Twenty-Four:
A Strategy

R
asby trotted up the passageway to the waiting Buck's cabin. Late at night as it was, Ivan and Tommy were there waiting along with Lord Fryman. In conference room, Don related the gist of his meeting with Brenna.

"Rasby, this is invaluable," Buck said after the briefing. "Now we can plan in earnest."

"Bein' handsome sure pays off. Some guys have all the luck," Tommy said still in a teasing mood. He spilled his coffee and sought a rag to clean the mess.

"Maybe," Rasby retorted. "But from what I hear, with your money, you can buy all the women you want." He watched the target of his comment in case the coffee soaked rag twirling in Tommy's hand came his way.

"Nope, got married," Tommy said. "My wife would neuter me if word got ta her I was a chasin' around and we both know it would. I ain't ready to give up the family jewels—jist yet." He shook his head in dour amusement.

After a good laugh, quiet settled over the group. "Ideas anyone?" Buck questioned.

With no further input, he said, "Our first effort is to get aboard that ship; we’ll force the issue if we have too but I prefer a casual approach. It will be infinitely easier than forcing our way aboard. I suspect such an effort would fail."

"I agree," Tommy said. "Seems to me, if we can walk aboard our job gets a lot easier. All we need is an excuse."

The three men stared at the engineer. "How many times have we killed a pirate trying to board us?" Buck asked.

"Yeah, but we knew they was a comin'," Tommy said.

"Out with it engineer," Buck said. "You're cooking up something."

The little man smiled. "Why not send this handsome rascal dirtside," he cast a look at Rasby, "and stir up some real nasty rumor about Teutonic. Like the reason nobody's come to the planet is some sickness they got. Medical people quarantined the ship and crew."

"Let's not overlook the pinnace that delivers supplies," Ivan said. "How do you explain them landing if the ship is off limits?"

"Easy," Tommy said. "Didn't Donald say the pinnace crew put the load on the hanger deck and then left? Never had any contact with the crew." When the engineer used someone's name, it was always formal because as a youngster less than that would get him a finger thump on the head from his momma.