[05] Elite: Reclamation (17 page)

As she stood up she could see the dim outline of a close rocky horizon, faintly illuminated by the light of the stars.

‘I really am on a ship,’ she said softly, still gazing out of the windows. Her expression was a mix of fear, awe and disconsolation.

Hassan pressed a control and his seat swung around one hundred and eighty degrees. He gestured to the other seat and guided her into it, showing her how to pull the straps in around her. Then he sat back and regarded her.

‘So, lady,’ he said, folding his arms. ‘What were you doing in that pod?’

‘Pod?’

‘The pod you were in. Lying there like you was dead …’

A sword, striking forward abruptly; a roughened hand grasping a hilt; pain and blood …

She gasped, struggling to hold the faint flash of memory. She ran her hand against her chest inside the flight suit. Her fingers traced the faintest of scars on her skin; a small diagonal mark, almost undetectable.

‘I can’t remember,’ she whispered.

‘Well, that ain’t good enough. You’ve stowed away on my ship, you’ve no ID, no memory and I’m in a shit load of trouble as a result.’

‘Why? I’ve done nothing … have I?’

‘Smuggling people is illegal round these parts! Your pod was inside the canister.’ He groaned at her blank look. ‘That big metal thing with the hatch in the cargo bay? I stole it, it was supposed to be something worth having, instead I got you.’

‘Thank you for the compliment,’ she snapped before her eyes widened in alarm. ‘Stolen? You’re a pirate?’

‘No, I’m not a bloody pirate,’ Hassan replied.

Maybe that’s technically true, but I’m not doing it again so it doesn’t count, does it?

‘You just said you stole me. You are a pirate,’ she repeated.

‘I didn’t know it was you, did I?’ Hassan said. ‘I didn’t steal you on purpose.’

‘Where from? Tell me.’

Hassan rolled his eyes. ‘Listen, it’s complex …’

‘Tell me.’ There was a fierce determination about her manner. Whoever she was, she was used to giving orders.

‘I joined in an ambush on an Imperial ship, helped disable it,’ Hassan explained.

‘Imperial?’

‘You know who the Imperials are, right? Strutting overdressed toadies, obsessed with appearance above everything ...’ Belatedly he remembered her accent. ‘No offence …’

She glared at him. ‘I know who the Imperials are, I was …’ She stopped again, groaning with frustration, pressing her hands against her head and squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. ‘Why can’t I remember? I almost …’ She opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘Why in the void did you attack an Imperial ship?’

‘I need a rep. I can’t join the traders’ Guild until I’ve got a rep. I didn’t know you’d stowed away on board.’

‘It was my ship? You attacked my ship?’ she echoed in surprise. ‘That’s what it takes to get this “rep” of yours, is it?’

‘No,’ Hassan said. ‘Listen. I needed to prove I could pull off something big. I figured if I could pinch some Imperial cargo I could fence it in Federation space. It would show the Guild I had the right stuff.’

‘And?’

‘There was a contract. Cash, no questions asked. I didn’t know what the deal was. I just had to help with an ambush. I figured we’d just pinch the cargo and I’d help myself. But it ended up we only disabled your ship and towed it to some pirate base. The cargo was for someone else, someone else wanted the ship you were on.’

‘So you deliberately ambushed my ship without even knowing why?’

‘I didn’t care.’

‘So who did care?’

‘Our customer,’ Hassan gulped. ‘A woman called Octavia Quinton.’

‘And who is she?’ The woman picked up his nervousness immediately.

‘Pretty much the meanest, most ruthless crime boss in this whole sector. She controls pretty much everything hereabouts. The Guild was set up to counter her stranglehold on trade.’

The woman took a moment to assimilate that information.

‘So how did we end up here?’ she finally asked, looking out of the window at the bleak landscape outside.

‘I stole a cargo canister from her; and you were in it.’

‘You stole cargo from a ruthless crime boss?’ Her voice was high with fear.

‘The Guild hates her!’ Hassan replied, waving his hands around. ‘I couldn’t leave empty handed, could I? I figured if I could swindle her the Guild would have to let me in.’

It makes sense, doesn’t it?

‘That’s the most stupid plan I’ve ever heard in my life.’ The woman’s voice was now stiff with anger.

Hassan felt his stomach cramp in anxiety.

Maybe she’s right.

‘If I had a nice case of luxuries to trade rather than a crazy flux-stained woman with no ID I’d still have a plan! You’re the one who’s messed this up.’

‘I’ve messed it up? You’re the one who stole me from wherever I was going!’

Hassan thumped his chair in frustration, looking aside.

The woman looked at him expectantly. ‘So this Octavia woman of yours is going to be looking for us then.’

‘You think?’ Hassan replied. ‘Guess why we’re hiding out here in the void. Maybe I should take you back, try to explain. She might understand … no stupid idea.’ He leant forward. ‘So, come on, why the hell were you in that pod?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You must know. Think for Randomius’ sake. What do you remember before being here?’

‘I told you, I can’t remember anything!’

They were almost nose to nose, glaring at each other.

‘Listen lady …’

‘Stop calling me lady. I have a name …’ she paused, fighting back unexpected tears again, before dissolving into sobs of pure frustration. ‘I had a name … I had a name!’

Hassan held up his hands. ‘All right, all right. Time out. Let’s figure this through. Better give you a name for starters.’

She shrugged, wiping at her eyes and regaining her composure. Hassan thought about it for a moment.

‘Got it.’ he said after a moment. ‘Salomé.’

‘Sal-low-mee?’ She experimented with the sound of the name, frowning and suspicious. ‘Why? What does that mean?’

‘My sister had a cat called Salomé,’ Hassan answered, prodding his tender face. ‘Proud, aloof, annoying and bloody sharp claws; suits you perfectly.’

Her lip curled in anger before a confused look crossed her face. ‘What’s a cat?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘What’s a … never mind the sodding cat. ’ He reached out and pressed a couple of buttons. ‘We’ve got to figure out what the hell we’re going to do.’

A holofac chart appeared between them.

‘We’re here,’ he said, pointing to a glowing reference mark in the midst of the chart. Salomé could see a number of systems marked, connected to each other by faint green lines. ‘You’ve got an Imperial accent, so I figure you come from the Empire.’

She nodded, that felt right. ‘The Empire, yes. I’m sure of it.’

He waved at the chart and it moved. Systems drifted off to one side and disappeared, with fresh ones appearing on the other.

‘This is Imperial space. Recognise anything?’

Salomé examined the chart carefully. It did seem vaguely familiar, but none of the system names jolted any memories.

‘Where was my ship when you attacked it?’

Hassan waved the chart back again. ‘Here.’

Salomé looked again, but shrugged hopelessly. ‘It’s meaningless.’

‘Well, we’ve got to make ourselves scarce and soon,’ Hassan said. ‘Octavia’ll expect us to dock someplace, probably got all the local systems marked already. We need to go somewhere busy and get lost in the background, somewhere she can’t operate …’

He gestured to the chart and it shrank, zooming out to show a wider view of the surrounding systems.

‘Imperial space?’ Salomé asked.

‘Octavia’s no friend of the Empire. She works mostly for the Feds when it suits her. The Empire lays claim to most of this. She operates round the edge, giving the Feds inroads. We’ll be safer in there. Closer to wherever you come from too, maybe we’ll figure out who you are.’

She nodded in agreement.

Hassan pulled up the system catalogue, scanning down the list of systems.

‘This looks good. Ferenchia. It’s Independent, but friendly to the Empire. Busy trading hub, lots of imports and exports. Plenty of ships just like us. We can hide for a bit, snag the transponder and re-register, maybe even swap to another ship …’

‘How long will that take?’

Hassan shook his head. ‘Have to do it in stages. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.’

Salomé leant back and folded her arms. ‘Is it going to be better than your last plan?’

Hassan shot her an unfriendly look. The memory of his brother’s face filtered into his mind.

That’s because your plans are always crazy and someone ends up getting hurt.

‘Still got that airlock. Don’t you forget it.’

Chapter Six

Another vessel approached the
Basilica
, slowing to a drift. It was bigger than the previous set of fighters that had approached just a day before, but not as large as the Imperial Cutter they had ambushed. It was an Asp, a vessel capable of handling a sustained combat, small enough to evade turret fire yet big enough to pack a formidable array of ordnance.

Expert eyes would have seen that the ship was deployed in an ‘interceptor’ configuration. It could function equally well as a warship or in an anti-fighter role. This one featured a load-out aimed at taking down smaller ships. A bounty hunter.

Dalk eyed the dark bulk of the
Basilica
with a practiced eye. Whilst he knew of Octavia by reputation, it would be interesting to meet her face to face. Given what she’d managed to amass in the last few decades it was clear that she wasn’t to be underestimated. Her control of trade across the nearby systems was draconian, something that he’d used indirectly to his advantage in order to smuggle weapons to the Reclamists on Chione. She was the unofficial arm of the Federation in these parts, tacitly supporting them in undermining the interests of the Empire.

Dalk had a low opinion of the bounty hunter profession in general. He regarded them as opportunists, feeding off the misfortune of others, extending the cycle of revenge and retribution time and again. It was particularly galling to have to masquerade as one, but he had no other choice.

‘
Coup de Gr
â
ce
to
Basilica
. Request docking clearance.’

A searchlight flashed out, illuminating Dalk’s vessel for a few brief seconds.

‘State your business
Coup de Grâce
,’ came the brusque reply.

‘Hoping to serve and assist with Auntie’s family woes,’ Dalk replied.

There was a pause before the response came.

‘
Basilica
to
Coup de Grâce
. Proceed. Docking in berth twenty-one.’

Dalk watched as the gated defences of the
Basilica
rolled aside, revealing the interior space. He couldn’t see the multitude of weapons trained on his ship, but he knew they were there. It wouldn’t do to discount them. He slowly guided his ship towards the selected bay, taking a good look around as he did so.

Octavia was already at the top of his list of suspects for having ambushed the
Caduceus
on its way out of Chione. That she’d issued a contract shortly afterwards seemed too much of a coincidence. It gave him a chance to have a poke around at the very least.

Most of the docking bays were empty, but a few were occupied. He could see flickering flashes of light coming from one bay and squinted at it. As he drew level he could see that automechs were working on repairing a ship. It had familiar lines, an Imperial Cutter with a damaged starboard nacelle.

Was it the
Caduceus?
He couldn’t be sure, the hull plates were too small to resolve at this distance and he’d raise suspicions by triggering an active scan. If so, Octavia would know about Kahina. A high ranking member of an Imperial family would be a perfect bargaining chip with the Empire or command a high price as an object of ransom if sold to the Federation. But there’d been no ransom demand from her or the Federation. Either Octavia didn’t appreciate yet what she had or something else had happened. Then there was the contract she’d issued. Dalk reviewed it again.

Missing person, much missed by Aunt and wider family. Last seen en route to Haoria. Only the best need apply. Top price paid for information leading to happy reunion.

Aunt was one of many curious pseudonyms that Octavia used, whoever had gone missing was clearly important. Was it related? Time would tell.

The
Coup de Grâce
nested down in the bay, its landing gear gracefully taking up the strain as the ship came to rest. Dalk powered down his ship and gestured at the controls. His pilots chair descended through the base of the cockpit, lowering him into the bay. He stood up and stretched to his full height, his thick black trench coat wafting out around him as he strode forwards. His ship sealed and locked itself behind him.

Two guards with pressurised rifles were waiting to meet him. One gestured for him to follow and the other fell in behind. The synchronised footsteps of the guards clacked noisily on the panelled metal flooring. Parallel light bars flickered past Dalk’s vision in a slow motion strobe as they walked deeper into the recesses of the station. They arrived at an internal lift. Dalk looked aside at the guard behind him, but there was no response as the doors hissed open. The trio moved inside. Dalk felt his stomach drop as the lift rapidly descended. His feet were pressed harder, the simulated gravity growing strong. He leant slightly to one side to counter the faint coriolis force without even thinking about it, taking a moment to adjust his stance and prepare for the meeting. They were clearly heading towards the outside edge of the facility.

The doors snapped back and the three of them emerged into a wide, low-ceilinged room. A large holofac projection unit was mounted in the centre. Dalk recognised the room as an auxiliary command and control chamber. It would have been used extensively for battle planning and strategy in wartime, directing squadrons of fighters into battle.