[05] Elite: Reclamation (13 page)

‘Two hundred thousand,’ he confirmed. ‘No cuts, no tax. Net, not gross.’

Octavia nodded, her hand still outstretched. ‘Net, not gross.’

The pirate leader took her hand. She had a firm grip for a woman. No, she had a firm grip for a man …

Shit!

‘I’m surprised at your ill-advised audacity, trying to renegotiate with me,’ Octavia said, mildly. ‘I suggest you don’t do that again.’

Agony jolted up his arm. He yelled as the sound of cracking bones rang out from his hand.

‘Fuck you,’ the pirate leader said, pulling his other arm back to swing at her.

Octavia twisted his hand back and sideways, jolting the pirate leader’s wrist. He was flung over on his side, his hand still locked in her grip, falling heavily on the corrugated floor of the cargo bay.

‘Let go of me you fucking bitch!’

‘One hundred and fifty thousand, yes?’ she asked, her voice still sweet and light.

Her grip tightened, more cracks; blood seeped through her fingers as bone fragments pierced skin from the inside out. The pirate leader shrieked and yelled, battering at her arm with his other hand to no avail. She continued to mash his hand, it was as if it were being crushed in a …

Vice!

Fear coursed through him. He’d underestimated her. No telling what else she might be capable of.

‘All right! One fifty!’

He felt her pressure go, replaced by pain. He yelled again as blood spurted from his ruined fingers. By the time he was able to look up she was standing over him, looking down with contempt. She was clenching and unclenching her right hand, rubbing her thumb against fingers that were slick with blood; his blood.

‘The money will be deposited immediately,’ Octavia said. ‘I suggest you get that seen to.’

She gestured to the cargo bay ramp.

You’ll pay for that, you smug bitch.

Pain fuelled anger surged through him. No woman was going to humiliate him like this. He swung a punch at her with his good arm.

Octavia grabbed his fist easily, turned the wrist, grabbed his elbow and threw him sideways. As the pirate dropped to the floor she rotated her grip in a practiced move. He felt his body spin out of control in a whirl of motion before a yell of agony was ripped out of him. She’d dislocated his shoulder. A moment later he felt his body slam into the ground with a stunning thump. She still held his outstretched wrist. Pressure. More pain. He heard a sickening crunch as she broke bones. Screams; his own screams.

He felt his head yanked roughly up by the hair.

‘You just killed your men, too,’ she whispered in his ear.

Panic now. He had to move.

His voice gurgled out something unintelligible. Octavia ignored it. She grasped his head firmly in her hands and gave one final sharp twist before dropping it back, lifeless, to the floor.

She stood up, sending a message to her guards.

‘Negotiations complete. They were generous enough to give us the ship for free. Anything of value?’

‘The lead ship is worth a handful of creds,’ a voice replied in her ear. ‘Nothing else but cheap junk. There’s even a Mark 1 Eagle. Not seen one of them in years.’

‘That’s because they’re utterly useless,’ Octavia replied, dismissively. ‘Invite the rest aboard, get them drunk and dispose of them quietly. Choose one to spread the news. The owner of that Eagle will do. Take the other ships. Make preparations for unloading the cargo, I want this all shipped back out within the day.’

‘It shall be done, Domina.’

She looked down at the pirate leader’s bloodied body.

‘Oh, and somebody needs to do some housekeeping.’

Octavia cancelled the call with a brief flick of her eyes.

She walked back to the canister, pushing the hatch release mechanism. The hatch hissed open, allowing her inside. She smiled as she saw the unblemished pod, running her hands over its smooth surface. A series of illuminated displays appeared on its shiny exterior. Quickly she located the command sequence to open the pod. She touched it, confirming her request.

One message flashed in red; urgent and demanding attention.

Psychometric profile restoration in progress, interrupting this process may cause memory corruption. Confirm?

‘I only want your body, sweetness …’

She touched on a green circle, indicating in the affirmative. The displays faded into the translucent surface of the pod.

There was a click and a faint hiss of equalising pressure. The top of the pod opened and folded back. Octavia peered over and smiled in satisfaction, taking a long look at the supine body that lay within.

She walked a few steps down to the end of the pod, turned and then languidly traced a finger up the girl’s body, starting at her toes and up her shins, walking slowly back the way she had come. Two fingers were placed across her thigh, rising up to her pelvis, teasingly skirting the dark triangle of hair. Octavia ran her fingertips across the girl’s stomach, her hand reversing to gently caress the breast nearest to her before tracing the outline of the girl’s chin, lips, nose and forehead.

Octavia reached in and pulled the small black tab off the girl’s forehead. It beeped in complaint and then fell silent. Octavia carefully pocketed it.

‘Yes, my Imperial beauty. You are most suitable; most suitable indeed.’

***

Hassan watched, peering over the flight deck of his ship, as the intimidating woman and the pirate leader entered the battered rear cargo hold of the
Caduceus
. Neither of them emerged. Negotiations seemed to be on-going.

After a few minutes he watched as the rest of the pirates gathered in a small group outside the ships, talking with the guards. Faces seemed relaxed and friendly. Not always a good sign, but reassuring for now. Hassan saw one of the pirates point in the direction of Hassan’s ship. One of the guards headed in his direction.

Shortly afterwards there was a bang on the lower exit hatch. Hassan flipped the latches and unwound the vacuum seal. The hatch dropped downwards, revealing the floor of the hangar beneath his ship. The guard was looking up at him.

‘You’re invited aboard,’ he announced. ‘Word is Domina is happy with the shipment. They’re just scanning the fine detail. Beers are cool, you coming?’

‘Got some repairs to make first,’ Hassan replied. ‘Scanner shorted out in the battle, took a hit on the dorsal plate. Can’t fight what I can’t see.’

‘Want my techs to take a look at it?’

‘At your hourly rates?’ Hassan fired back. ‘No thanks.’

The guard grinned. ‘You’ve got to try.’ He looked appraisingly at the tarnished hull of the old Eagle. ‘Haven’t seen one of these in a while.’

‘She ain’t much,’ Hassan replied with a sigh, looking around at his tatty vessel.

‘Had one of these when I was a kid,’ the guard said. ‘They’re not so bad. They keep going and going. Don’t buy the Mark 2, yeah?’

‘With the dodgy retros? Yeah, I read about them …’

Hassan paused. The guard looked aside, towards the entrance doors to the hangar. He nodded, clearly hearing something through his comm link. Hassan could see all the other pirates had left.

The guard looked back up.

‘You got a minute?’

Hassan nodded and the guard gestured for Hassan to follow him. The guard walked across to the
Caduceus
and up the boarding ramp. Hassan followed him inside. As they turned a corner Hassan caught sight of the bloodied body of the pirate leader.

‘Shit!’ Hassan made to run for it, but the guard stopped him with a firm shove.

‘Relax kid. Your boss just made a stupid mistake asking for more cash. Kinda …’ the guard shrugged and clicked his tongue, ‘career limiting, if you know what I mean. Smart money is on getting out of here sharpish. Domina will make sure you’re paid up, she’s good like that. But you ain’t gonna see your buddies again. You following my navplan?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Make yourself scarce.’

‘You mean they’re …’ Hassan was still looking down at the body on the floor.

‘Yeah. Or worse. Depends on her mood. Worse, I’d guess.’

‘You guys play rough. Who’s your boss, anyway? Who’s this Domina?’

The guard scoffed. ‘You don’t know?’

Hassan shrugged. ‘I’m just the gun for hire in this posse.’

‘You’ve heard of Octavia Quinton, right?’

Hassan stopped and stared. ‘Octavia … Quinton?’

The guard grinned at him. ‘Now you get it.’

‘Can … can you send me down a fuel canister?’ Hassan stammered. ‘Then I don’t need to top up the tanks.’

‘Sure thing kid.’

The guard walked off, leaving Hassan staring after him, nonplussed. He heard the whirring noise as the automech unloaders formed up and headed for the wreck of the
Caduceus
.

Octavia Quinton! If I can pull this off …

It was now or never.

***

Octavia returned to her sumptuous suite aboard the
Basilica
. It straddled the main width of the facility with rooms overlooking the interior docking void on one side and the vista of infinite space on the other. The view of the stars rotated slowly as she watched it for a moment, taking time to pick out the various star systems that she controlled and influenced. It took her a while.

The rooms were dimly lit by cunningly concealed lighting, Imperial style, but with modern hi-tech touches that Imperial tastes would have shunned. Food outlets, complex restorative cleanliness units and washing facilities integrated astutely with a panoply of mirrors; some discrete, others full length and obvious. Servants waited in the recesses and adjoining rooms ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, supplying any dish from across the known worlds. Holofac displays were much in evidence; statistics, graphs, monitors, vid-feeds. It was clear this wasn’t just a place to relax; it was a nerve centre of operations.

Octavia dismissed her staff with a sharp command and walked into one of the bedrooms, quickly washing her hands. She flexed her right hand as the dried blood was carried away by the cleansing water, examining it absentmindedly. The skin was a perfect match for her arm, few knew her secret. She liked it that way.

She changed, slipping into a demure flowing gown and dropping her stained garments to the floor. They would be returned, cleaned and pressed, to her wardrobe within minutes.

An antique brush was employed to adjust her hair; blonde, with the merest hint of added colour to hide the advancing years. Hard grey eyes stared back at her as she looked in the mirror, only a slight sheen of make-up lifted the skin of her face.

Satisfied, she walked back out into the suite, settling in a luxurious leather chair facing the view into the galaxy. A brief gesture caused walls to slide into place around her, sealing her in a conveniently private room. The walls were unadorned, giving no hint as to her location.

A circular table in front of her glowed, initiating a holofac transmission. A moment later a ream of technical information streamed rapidly up before her. It had to be a secure call, routed in several redundant directions, encrypted and obfuscated, its origin impossible to trace. Security was everything to an operation like this.

The text slowed.

Connection Established.

‘Ms. Quinton.’

A figure appeared, apparently seated in the chair opposite. It was a comfortable illusion.

‘Commissioner Neseva,’ Octavia acknowledged with a nod. ‘I trust I’ve not caught you at an inconvenient time?’

‘Of course not, my dear woman,’ he replied smoothly. ‘I was hoping you might call.’

‘Really?’ Octavia feigned interest. ‘And why might that be?’

‘A small matter in the grand scheme of things,’ Tenim replied, examining his finger tips with interest. ‘I hear there has been some disturbance in the Prism system. The Imperials appear to have a little difficulty on their hands.’

He looked up and grinned broadly.

‘Most unfortunate for them.’

‘It appears a disastrous coup has taken place,’ Tenim said. ‘The Imperial family has been wiped out and the Chione moon now lies in the hands of a sordid group of revolutionaries.’

‘How distressing.’ Octavia raised her eyebrows.

‘Yes. It appears they were supplied with illegal shipments of stolen federation weaponry. Absolutely shocking.’

Octavia smiled herself. ‘Which reminds me, you’ve yet to pay for that last operation.’

‘Details my dear.’ Tenim waved his hand towards her. ‘The tally will be reconciled by month end as always.’

‘It had better be,’ Octavia added, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Tenim seemed unfazed. ‘We do feel somewhat responsible for the situation. We’ve extended every sympathy to the Imperials, but they’ve yet to take us up on any offer of help.’

‘How ungrateful of them.’

‘The bastards squirmed like Zaoncian blood worms. They couldn’t pin it on us in the slightest.’ Tenim laughed and leant back in his chair.

‘You say the entire Imperial family was wiped out? I assume you’re referring to the Loren Lineage?’

‘Every last one. Those peasants even slaughtered the servants and slaves apparently. Shot them dead. Quite a bloody mess. Serves them right for invading our moon in the first place.’

‘Interesting.’ Octavia looked away from Tenim, letting her eyes wander around the featureless interior of the temporary room.

Tenim frowned, folding his hands together and leaning forward himself. ‘How so?’

‘Interesting … in that I have a member of the Loren Lineage aboard right now.’

Tenim stopped abruptly. ‘That’s impossible. All the bodies were accounted for …’

Octavia gestured to an auxiliary display and with a deft flick of her fingers sent a small image of the Imperial girl’s supine form into the holofac display.

‘Who is …’

‘She is Lady Kahina Tijani Loren,’ Octavia replied. ‘Third daughter of Algreb Loren and sole survivor of that unfortunate coup you mentioned.’

‘But …’

‘Someone went to a lot of trouble to ensure she survived the assassination. The Imperials were smuggling her out.’