Pirates of the Thunder (19 page)

The old boy was really gonna miss Melchior, he thought. Suddenly the whole thing was clear to him: Clayben supplied the freebooters with nice, perfect, docile slaves and loyal security troops, and in exchange probably got quantities of murylium totally outside what he could scrape up from Melchior’s remains and whatever tiny amounts he might con out of Master System. This explained why freebooters had visited the old hell hole at intervals, and why Nagy had spent time going back and forth. Clayben and the freebooters were far more interrelated than he had let on.

“I am Amal,” the beautiful man said, “and this is Gem. We are at your service while you are with us. Anything you wish, just ask.”

“We’ve been out a long time and we just want to relax for a while,” Nagy told them. “We’ll go to the lounge now, but we may require you later.”

“All you need do is ask any staff member to call Amal or Gem and we will be there,” the man assured them. “Allow us to escort you to the lounge.”

“Am I correct in assuming they mean that all the way?” Warlock asked in a low tone as they walked.

Nagy nodded. “Sure. Either or both will do anything you ask, and with a smile. If they aren’t enough, they can produce whatever you want—particularly if you’ve got four days* unlimited credit. It’s not limited to them, either. Anybody with the triangle who turns you on will be your instant willing slave. They come in all sizes, colors, races, you name it—about half Earth-human and half colonial. You get some murylium miners out there, maybe alone, for months or more at a time and they want everything when they get in. They’re all sterile and checked medically every day, so there’s no risks, either.”

Raven had expected a seedy outworld bar, but the lounge was a cozy, intimate place of semiprivate booths with a small stage area. The seats seemed to be some kind of soft brown fur, a bit worn, and the tables were of a marblelike rock.

There were others in the lounge, which surprised the first-timers a bit. The only ship other than the Vals’ and the
Lightning
in the dock hadn’t seemed very large.

“There aren’t many here at any one time,” Nagy told them, “but there are more than can be accommodated in the spaceport. Some of the ships are in orbit, their people brought down by shuttle ferry or transmuter, and some have been dropped off here to be picked up later. The place is relatively quiet, though—I’d guess no more than thirty or forty guests are here right now, when there should be a hundred. My guess is the Val scared a lot of ‘em off.”

An enormous black man appeared, all muscles, wearing little but dark bikini briefs and the telltale triangle on his forehead. Raven looked at Warlock and was amused to see some of that total cool crumble at the sight.

“I am Batu,” the waiter said in a rich, deep baritone. “How may I serve you?”

“I’ll have a liter of draft,” Nagy replied. “Sabatini?”

“Double whiskey and soda, no ice. The good stuff, not the rotgut.”

The waiter appeared to take no offense.

“I’ll have a beer, as well,” Raven said. “And—you wouldn’t have cigars, would you?”

“Yes, sir. Any kind of type you wish.”

“The large Havana style.”

“As you wish, sir. And the lady?”

“Rum tonic,” Warlock responded.

The waiter bowed and left. “You really oughtta knock off those things,” Nagy told him. “They’ll kill you sooner or later.”

“If I live long enough for them to kill me I will be content.”

Nagy just shrugged. “So, what do you think of the place so far?”

“Interesting,” Raven replied. “After all that time in the wild under primitive conditions, I could get to like a place like this. I can sure see how somebody’d like to run one, too. I’m just a little surprised Master System knows of these places and permits them.”

“As I said, mutual interest. I always feel like a target here, though; if Master System ever changed its mind, it’s all over. I think if I’m gonna be a freebooter it’s gonna be in a ship, out there, with better odds and the universe to get lost in.”

The waiter brought their drinks and a small package of full-size cigars for Raven, who eyed them as if they were the food of the gods. He had almost forgotten that cigars came that big and that unspoiled.

Warlock looked around. “This place is cozy and comfortable enough, but it is not good for socializing,” she noted. “One does not get information in a booth serviced by slaves.”

“True enough,” Nagy agreed. “But there are ways, and there will be time for all that. Just relax and enjoy for now. In a little while I may try and go back and see the old man himself. He knows me well, and I’ll get a straight picture without worrying about a knife in my back.”

“Savaphoong?”

He nodded. “I—” He broke off as he saw the others tense; he looked around and saw the Val standing there. It was an imposing figure even in this incongruous environment, and its metallic solidity and blazing crimson eyes seemed to bore right through them.

“Pardon,” the Val said. “I realize that my presence here causes problems, and I only wish to assure you that I have no instructions concerning this place or anyone who visits it.”

Interestingly, it was Sabatini who answered. “You know you have no place here. Why are you around?”

“I am not after freebooters. I am soliciting their help. You have heard of the prison colony of Melchior in the Earth system?”

Sabatini nodded. “So?”

“There was an escape. Ships were hijacked, including an interstellar transport. The escapees for the most part have the identifying Melchior facial tattoos. They possess certain knowledge that no one is permitted to possess. Mere contact with these people could prove fatal. They are using a ship that is the largest of its kind ever built, so you could hardly miss it. Have you seen these people?”

“Not anywhere around here,” Sabatini responded coolly. “They’re not likely to show up at a place like this anyway, are they?”

“Not they themselves perhaps, but they had inside help. We are not quite certain who, but we are working on it. If you see them, or if you run across anyone working for them, it will be more than worth your while to notify us immediately. This place is but a pale shade of the rewards possible to the one or ones who lead to their apprehension. Such ones would live like gods.”

Sabatini whistled. “You must really want them. Believe me, if I see them, I’ll be the first to collect.”

“Very well. I will be leaving this place this evening. Enjoy your stay.”

And, with that, the great creature was gone, out of their sight and out of the lounge. They started to say something, but Nagy put his palm up and then reached under the table, prying off a tiny smooth plate only a hair’s thickness and about the size of a fingertip. The Val had left a bug.

“I don’t like those bastards one bit,” Nagy said casually. “Come on, this place has lost its luster now. Let’s hunt up Amal and Gem and try a few more private pleasures.”

They all mumbled agreement and got up to leave, letting Nagy carefully replace the bug on the underside of the table. It took only a minute or two to summon their “procurers,” as they were called.

“Show us our quarters,” Nagy commanded. The others followed, still silent.

They were shown to a suite with a round central living area furnished with couches and a built-in bar and entertainment center, and four private sleeping rooms.

“Amal, I would like to see the manager on a matter of urgent personal business,” Nagy told the big blond man.

Amal was somewhat taken aback by that, which was not in the usual line of requests. “I will see if that is possible, sir.”

“Tell him it concerns the Val and our treatment here. I think he’ll see me.”

“Yes, sir. I will try.” The man left to do his duty.

Nagy brought the others close to him. “Say nothing you don’t want overheard until I get back,” he whispered. “We don’t know how far this has gone.”

They understood. They had heard the Val’s voice, which was almost always the voice of the person to whom it was targeted. The voice had been that of Hawks.

Fernando Savaphoong was a small, thin, Asian-looking man of about fifty, with a thin black mustache and neatly cropped black hair graying on the sides. He had a pleasant voice and a salesman’s manner, and only his eyes and his nearly constant chain-smoking of cigarettes betrayed the constant pressure his life style and his responsibilities brought him.

“So, Senor Nagy, I am surprised you would come here at this date.”

The security man relaxed and sat in a chair opposite the ruler of Halinachi. “I’m not used to Vals showing up in the lounge,” he replied. “But I’m particularly not used to Vals planting bugs under my table. How many other bugs has he got around here, and how the hell will I know when I can speak freely again to my companions?”

Savaphoong frowned. “This I do not like to hear at all. It knows you, then.”

“I doubt it, or it would have acted more forcefully. More likely it did a scan of the four of us as it discussed the bait, measuring our blood pressure, heart rates, and other reactions when it brought up certain subjects, and became suspicious. I think the least I can demand is for your people to sweep the area—the lounge, all the places it’s been, and my quarters, to find and destroy any nasty little devices it might have left.”

“I will tend to it at once. I cannot afford to have such things here.”

Nagy nodded. “Good. And in light of this, I think it’s time we had a talk about other matters.”

Savaphoong sat back in his chair and lit a cigarette. “I gather, then, that reports of the good doctor’s death were overrated. I suspected as much from the start, knowing how cautious and clever he was. But he did not engineer this break, surely. You?” .

“Uh uh. Strictly independent. We just signed on for the duration because we had little choice.”

“You realize, then, that I could name my own price just for calling back the Val and confirming its suspicions?”

“You could—but you won’t. You know as well as I do that any reward from Master System could be very shortlived in these days and times. Still I could guarantee your silence—or the destruction of Halinachi—just by telling you what it’s all about.”

“Si.
When I first hear of this I tell myself, all right, someone escaped. So what? Then I hear they steal this very big ship. Again, so what? They get away. They become freebooters, or they get caught, or they are never heard from again. Why does Master System suddenly want them worse than anything? Then I hear Master System invades Melchior only to find Clayben dead, along with most of the others who count, and all the data banks destroyed. Now I am suspicious. Now I wonder what would be so much of a threat to Master System that it would be worth Clayben’s while to do something like this. It is a simple matter for one of Clayben’s talents and resources to fake one’s own death convincingly enough even for Master System, but why? It must be something so valuable, so dangerous, that it is worth any price. Now my greedy side gets interested, and now you show up only months later. You see?”

“The real question is—do you want to know?”

“No. The real question is—can I afford
not
to know? If that Val was merely suspicious, that is one thing, but if it recognized any of you from its data files, if it has tied you in with all this—well, then, my friend, I am a sitting duck, am I not?”

Nagy thought a moment. “How many Vals are in this sector?”

“Two. But one shell through each of the main domes would be enough to destroy all this.”

“Uh uh. They don’t have what they really want here and they know it. That Val wasn’t going to take us because it would mean breaking the compact with you, and for that it’ll need the highest authority. Tell me straight, Senor Savaphoong—if it gets it, what will you do? If it breaks the compact, do you have the firepower to stop it—and the will, knowing what it would mean?”

Savaphoong sighed. “Senor Nagy, your brazen appearance here with a Val in port has caused this, but it is a fair question. If I allow it, then I am out of business anyway, am I not? What freebooter would come here after that? Whom do I serve? Vals? They are not interested in what I could provide, and, besides, they are lousy tippers. For the sake of any future or refuge I might have, I would be forced to oppose them, no matter what the cost.”

Arnold Nagy sighed. “Very well then. If that day should ever come, I can give you refuge. We will need people and we will need experience. If you keep faith with me, then if your back is to the wall we’ll get you out and cut you in. Fair?”

“As fair as life gets. Tell me true—do you
really
have a starship that is fourteen kilometers long?”

“Yes. We call her the
Thunder.”

The boss of Halinachi sighed. “What interesting possibilities that opens up. It has been getting so boring here.” He paused. “But, no. One does not trade all this so easily. Is there anything else I can do for you right now?”

“I need some information on three colonial worlds. This won’t get you in any trouble—without knowing the objectives it would be impossible to guess. Even knowing the objectives, although it would be dangerous, wouldn’t give you anything you could use yourself.”

“Which three?”

“Janipur, Chanchuk, and Matriyeh.”

Savaphoong gave a low whistle. “Not the most comfortable of places, any one.”

“I didn’t expect they would be. I need the works on them—people, political organization, leaders, Centers and administrators, you name it. The odds are I’m looking for the chief administrator of each world.”

“Umph!
You really make it difficult on yourself. And the purpose, in general terms?”

“Grand theft.”

Savaphoong laughed. “For such a grand and noble purpose, how can I refuse? Very well, you shall have what you require—if I can be assured that our mutual benefactor will continue to supply me with things that I require.”

“As much as possible under the circumstances. Might I assume that you have an interstellar-capable ship available in times of need?”

“You may so assume.”

“Then we should work out a mutual meeting place and a method of signaling. I suspect that if we get away clean this time it is very unlikely that we can return to your fine establishment.”