Creed of Pleasure; the Space Miner's Concubine (The LodeStar Series) (11 page)

The pilot met them in the doorway to the office, her weapon out, eyes alight with the fierce excitement of a natural warrior.
 

“Got a flyover,” she reported. “Two craft, old Quark Ogren make, came in low and fast as I was walking into the hangar.”

Creed nodded. He let go of Taara and pointed at a chair. “You stay here. Safest place in the complex—Nikk will take you down to the shelter if need be.”

She subsided into the chair, face pale. But she nodded and stayed quiet, not screaming or hanging on him. She’d be okay.

His office manager Nikk, a veteran of the Solar Wars, was at the console, holovids up, weathered face keen. He had been badly wounded in the wars, had robo-assisted prostheses for both legs and one arm, but this only made him keener to assist in any kind of fight.
 

“Got IGSF on the way,” he rapped out. “Be here in ten.”

“Be too late.” Creed was already running toward the hangar. “Coy, you come with me. I’ll take my cruiser, you yours. We’ll flank them if they’re still around. If not, we’ll patrol ‘til the SF boys show up.”

“Got it.” She dashed after him, through the underground passageway to the hangars. Once again he was glad he’d had the foresight to connect the mine and the compound so that no one need go above ground in any kind of emergency or bad weather.

Creed headed for his fast cruiser, his new toy, a sleek, silver arrow of speed and power, the kind he’d lusted after as a youth and just purchased earlier this spring. Coy had a fast, maneuverable craft too; LodeStar pilots flew only the best.
 

The hatch leapt open at Creed’s approach, keyed to his eye movement. He vaulted in, slid into the pilot’s seat and powered her up.

In a moment he was gliding out onto the landing pad and then a few secs later vaulting into the sky, turning as he rose to get a visual on the surrounding area, even though his holovid readout showed a clear picture.

Coy was right behind him, staying back on his right wing.

His monitors pinged, two bulky shapes coming back in from the east, over the mountains.

“Got ‘em,” he said. “I’ll take the ace, you the deuce. Stay low until you’re close, they won’t expect that. Those old scows of theirs aren’t fast on the vertical.”

“I’m on it,” Stark’s pilot called back. She peeled off to the right and he went left, slipping low over the valley floor, headed for a notch in the mountains that would take him through and round behind the Ogren ships.

The rocky walls of the canyon rushed past him, a hawk diving out of the way as he burst out over the deep, rocky valley on the other side. He swung the craft around, flipping her so fast his head spun and grinning fiercely as she responded like a well-trained catamount pony.

The two battered, ugly ships barreled up toward the mountain peaks ahead, mottled gray and scabrous purple against the pale gray of the bare rock. Then Coy burst into sight ahead and fired, streams of laser red streaking from her cruiser toward one of the Ogren vessels.

Creed fired nearly simultaneously, catching his target square in the tail. He adjusted his aim slightly and whooped with triumph as he hit their tail exhaust port, one of the most vulnerable areas on any old ship.

The pirate vessel rocked ponderously, then dove from the sky, fiery explosion battering it from the inside, visible through the portholes.
 

Coy was under fire. She darted high into the vault of blue sky, then to the side, coming back around to return fire.
 

“Let them go,” Creed called. “The IGSF boys are coming in. We’ll let them follow these slimers, see if they lead them back to a base of any kind.”

“Aw, I was having fun,” the pilot complained. However, she ceased firing and settled back in behind Creed. She gave a whoop of sheer joy. “Booyah! That was fun!”

Creed grinned. “Yup.”

“LodeStone, we have the attacking craft in our sights,” said a crisp voice. A uniformed, helmeted officer of the IGSF appeared on Creed’s holovid screen. “We’ll take it from here. One of our officers will follow you back to your base for debrief.”

“Affirmative,” Creed said.
 

He and Coy watched the pirate scow lumber off along the mountain ridge, smoke trailing behind it in the clear air. As it cleared the next ridge, a pair of IGSF fighters slid in behind it. The pirates wouldn’t get far.

“I hear the IGSF ships have blocking shields now,” Coy said admiringly. “Can’t even tell they’re around unless they want you to.”

“Guess we’d better follow orders then,” Creed said.
 

“Guess so,” Coy sighed. “Even if they did steal all my fun.”

“You got a couple of good shots in.” He led the way back across the valley, noting the skrog herd grazing by the river. Taara would like to see those.

“You did better. Where’d you learn to fly like that?”
 

“Zhen. Earth II and later Serpentia.”

“Wow. No wonder.”

The Zhen might live an austere lifestyle, but they did not stint on the tech. The fat reward purses granted by grateful citizens went to charity
and
to the weapons the fighting monks used to accomplish their goal of rescuing the common folk from criminals.
 

“You still want me to take Taara back to Frontiera City today?” Coy asked. “If not, thought I might swing south, see where this river goes. Unless you need me to debrief.”

Creed shook his head wryly. The pilot was not very subtle. “No, I know where to reach you,” he said calmly. “I can always fly her back later in the week.”

“Great.” From the satisfaction in Coy’s voice, he hadn’t fooled her either.

That was all right. The broad, earth-hued roofs of his compound were in sight, and the big house and attendant cluster of buildings had never looked so welcoming. Mainly because they contained one small bundle of sensual promise.
 

Which he was going to unwrap.

The seven hells with austerity. In two days he’d been in fire-fights with two sets of pirates, and shot them both out of his territory. He was flush with adrenaline and triumph, jacked up and strung out.
 

It was time he celebrated the way other warriors did—with a warm and willing consort.

* * *

Of course he had work to do first. When Creed landed, Nels was there with Nikk on the landing pad.

“Boss, we gotta talk,” Nikk said, his face grim.

Nels jerked his broad chin in agreement. “Those pirates shouldn’t have been able to get anywhere close without us knowing.

“That had occurred to me,” Creed noted. “Although last time, thought they’d come in on foot, through the skrog herd.” A trick learned from the native tribes. Joran had told him about it.
 

“Not once, but twice,” Nikk beat his fist on his thigh. “I don’t get it. Musta screwed up somehow, musta made a mistake. Thought I knew this system inside and out.”

“Let’s go in,” Creed said. “I need to hydrate while we talk.”

And they’d better figure something out, or neither the compound nor the mine was safe. The pirates breaking through LodeStone security was unprecedented and alarming as hell.
 

The three of them spent the next hour exploring the security system and came up with exactly nothing. The system was online. There was no reason why it should have missed the approach of the pirate ships until it was too late. No way it
could
have missed their approach. And yet it had.

Finally Nikk discovered something. “Skrog shit. Boss, look at this.”

Creed slugged the last of his cold drink of berry juice laced with protein, and walked over to look at the readout on the security log. “Shows the system went offline two hours ago.”

“You mean it shut down spontaneously?” Nels asked.

Nikk shook his head. “No, I mean like someone did it—deliberately.”

“Well, they couldn’t have,” Creed noted. “You’ve been here the whole time, right?”

Nikk said nothing. Then he cleared his throat, a hoarse sound. “Well … actually, I kinda dozed off for a little after lunch. Didn’t sleep well last night.” He gave Creed a hunted look, and his weathered face reddened. “Sorry, boss. Tried some new gesics to help me sleep. Won’t happen again.”

Creed and Nels exchanged a look behind the old soldier’s back. “Even if you did nap, don’t see how anyone could’ve done this,” Creed said. “There’s no one here but our people and Coy. She’s LodeStar, been vetted, has a great history with Stark’s corporation.”

“There’s your, ah, guest,” Nels said, looking uncomfortable.
 

Creed’s head went back in shock. An unpleasant one. He’d forgotten Taara.

“Nah,” Nikk said disparagingly. “She couldn’t have gotten in here without setting off the alarms, right? You’ve got the whole place set for the signature of those of us who live here.”

“True,” Creed muttered. “Unless she had some kind of override tech.”

The two men looked at him. He straightened, tossing his empty juice bottle into the nearest recycler. Right. He was the boss, this was his responsibility. “I’ll search her things.”

Which was certainly going to put a damper on any plans he’d had for other activities. Be lucky if she didn’t demand to be taken back to the city. Of course if he found she had suspicious tech, she’d be going back in an IGSF cruiser.

“You do that,” Nikk said, already stepping back, removing himself from this responsibility.
 

Nels grimaced. He had a wife, so he knew women. His evident sympathy did not improve Creed’s mood. “The IGSF pilots will be back here in a few,” he said. “Link me when they arrive. They’ll wanna debrief.”

“Yeah, boss.”

Creed had never been one to delay taking care of a task, no matter how unpleasant. He headed for his guest’s room.

* * *

Taara was curled up in the chair in a dark corner of her room, a throw over her. The windows were closed and locked, the shutters as well, and she held a weapon in her hand. Just a kitchen cutter, but it was at least something. She was not far from the spacious closet, where she was prepared to hide if necessary.

The last hour or more—she had no idea how much time had elapsed since Creed deposited her in the office and dashed out to fly off after whoever had attacked his home—had been one of the most nerve-wracking and frightening in her memory. And considering what she’d been through lately, that was saying a great deal. She hadn’t been bodily attacked this time, but if those pirates had gotten in, that could be next.
 

Even when the taciturn Nikk had given her the all clear to leave the office and return to the house, she hadn’t felt safe. But he clearly wanted her out of his way, so she tiptoed back through the house. She went first to the kitchen to get something with which to protect herself, because until Creed Forth was back, she was going to jump at every sound.
 

Huddling here brought back memories, and not just those of being jumped by the gangers in New Seattle, but memories that she’d kept successfully buried for years. She wasn’t sure why, perhaps it was the bright sunshine of this place in addition to the danger. Memories flashed through her mind, bright and clear, running through the crowded, dirty alleyway behind her father’s small business on Serpentia, away from his partner. Hiding, crouched in a shadowed corner in the baking heat of a Serpentian fall afternoon while the wind whipped over the rooftops, sand sifting down over her, shaking and cold despite the heat, terrified by the echo of the man’s voice in her head, of his hands grasping at her budding breasts and between her legs.

With a stifled moan, Taara huddled deeper in the chair. She wanted to go home, nebulous a notion as that was.
 

She’d just lost the home she’d known for the last several years in New Seattle, been uprooted to this new planet and then again to this wild place. Which up till now had seemed beautiful in its wildness, but now she wished desperately that she was in the cozy new condo in Frontiera City with Daanel. As far as she knew, pirates didn’t actually attack the city itself, just settlements out here on the frontier.

She’d come here to do something she didn’t want to do, had nerved herself up for that. Now
this
. What next, a stampede of those enormous creatures grazing along the river meadows? Or maybe an aerial attack by the huge hawks?
 

She wanted to weep, curled in her blanket. But she could no longer afford to give in to her fears, and so she reminded herself as the time dragged on. She sat a silent vigil in the shadows, the cutter tight in her grip.

When the door to her room opened, terror leapt through her anew, every muscle tensed to spring or run.

Then she recognized the man in the light streaming in the open door. It was Creed Forth. She let out a sigh of relief so intense she nearly slipped from the chair onto the carpet.

The first thing he did was look toward the bed. Finding it empty, he went to the windows, and pulled open the shutters. Then he turned, and stopped, seeing her. His gaze dropped to the cutter.