Star Risk - 02 Scoundrel Worlds (24 page)

Sufyerd, being the meticulous sort he was, insisted on reading each and every document, and frequently complained to King that they were meaningless, as far as he could tell.

They were just that, intended merely to give King physical access to Sufyerd, but when Sufyerd would protest, Jasmine put on an icy demeanor, and implied he was collaborating in his own death.

This time, King had only one sheaf of forms, these clearly pertinent, since they authorized Star Risk to try to locate his vanished wife and children and help in their support. Two visits earlier, King had managed to kite a note to Sufyerd saying that his family was safe, and for him not to worry.

These new forms he signed cheerfully. King reached for them, and accidentally scratched him with a sharp-edged cufflink on her blouse, enough to draw a speck of blood. Sufyerd winced, and King apologized profusely.

"You know," he told her, as she was packing her briefcase, "sometimes I almost think I'm going to live through this� maybe even have another trial that'll prove my innocence."

"Of course," King said. "Isn't that what we've been telling you all along?"

"I just wish the law�" Sufyerd's voice trailed off.

"You wish the law what?"

"I'm being absurd," he said. "I wish the law wasn't so damned� I'm sorry for the language� arbitrary."

"Better," King said, "the arbitrariness of law than of the whims of people."

Sufyerd managed a smile. "You're right. I didn't mean to sound like I was losing faith."

As soon as she reached the patrol ship and reported to the other four Star Risk heads aboard, she cycled those contaminated cufflinks she'd been wearing into space.

The patrol ship, obviously not heading back to Montrois, jumped into N-space, unobtrusively leaving a tiny link satellite.

Six hours later, the fortress contacted Montrois with an emergency. Prisoner Maen Sufyerd had fallen ill. Terribly ill, and neither of the station doctors could diagnose his sickness other than high fever, nausea, and intermittent vomiting.

The station's code, bounced into N-space by the planted satellite, was decoded and read by Star Risk.

"I should damned well hope they cannot identify it," von Baldur said. "Denebian rabbits do not even show up in zoos on this side of the universe, let alone their expensive damned venom."

"Time for us to suit up," Riss said. "And then wait some more."

Montrois replied. They were sending a medical ship up to the station, to bring Sufyerd back to the planet for specialist treatment.

"Of course," Goodnight said bitterly, "the sons of bitches would never dream of letting somebody in a death cell just die a natural death. Shit!"

"The word," Grok said calmly, "is hypocrisy, and everyone, even my own people, practice it most lovingly."

Star Risk's tiny snitch reported when the med ship, clearly marked, arrived an hour later, and linked to the orbital satellite.

The ship, Sufyerd aboard, disconnected from the fortress's lock and set an orbit back for Montrois.

"Now?" the pilot of Star Risk's patrol ship asked.

"Wait a bit," von Baldur ordered. "Let us make sure we shall not need our backup."

"I think maybe you're being too paranoiac," Goodnight said. "Not to mention maybe spending too much of Reynard's credits that we could have stolen and spent on necessities like liquor and sex."

Von Baldur didn't bother answering, but made a fast commo check to another station.

The medical ship was bare minutes out from the fortress when another starship dropped out of hyperspace.

"Medship Y423, Medship Y423," it �cast on the standard emergency frequency. "Stand by to be boarded."

There was a gabble of protest from the medical ship.

The other ship repeated its message, adding, "Go into a stationary orbit or be blasted."

The medship bleated to the fortress-prison, and the prison broadcast alarms to Montrois and empty threats to the other starship.

"Looks to be, from Jane�s," one of Star Risk's pilots reported, "a pretty standard close convoy escort. If it's armed�"

"It is," von Baldur said with certainty.

"Well then, it's a little heavy-duty for us to take on."

Von Baldur smiled, a trace smugly, and reached for a mike on another, preset hyperspace frequency. "Friedrich One, Two, this is Friedrich Control. Come on in."

"Friedrich One," a voice came back. "Breaking out."

Riss and the others knew the voice�it was the mercenary pilot Redon Spada, sometimes rated the hottest starship operator available on the open market. Star Risk had used his talents before, and Goodnight thought it most funny that Spada seemed to have a perpetual, almost adolescent infatuation with M'chel Riss. So far, Riss hadn't en- or discouraged him.

Very suddenly the space just off Montrois got a little crowded, as two destroyers came out of N-space. They were a shade on the obsolescent side, but far better armed than the escort ship.

Von Baldur ordered his pilot to do the same.

"Friedrich Control, I assume you want us to booger the gunship," Spada �cast.

"This is Control," von Baldur said. "You assume right."

"Stupid bastard doesn't even see us," Spada �cast.

"Target acquired. Two, launch on my command. Four� three� two� fire!"

Two heavy missiles spat from each destroyer and intersected in the space occupied by the escort ship. In concentric balls of flame, fiery bubble theory, that ship ceased to exist. The orbital prison yammered even more loudly.

"I love a good double drygulching," Goodnight said dreamily.

"This is One," Spada �cast. "What next?"

"Go on home and cash the paychecks," von Baldur said into the mike.

"This is Two. Easiest pile of credits I ever made."

"This is Control. Now you see why everyone likes working for us," von Baldur said.

"This is One. Kiss M'chel for me, and we'll catch you on the uptick."

The two destroyers vanished, back to whatever base they'd come from before von Baldur chartered them.

"Now can we go get Maen?" Riss said.

"Certainly."

The crew of the medic ship sputtered as armed people in suits with darkened faceplates stormed through the lock, but none of them made any effort to resist, including the two guards who accompanied the unconscious Maen.

Grok, being too easily recognized, had been left aboard ship.

Goodnight wanted to crack wise before Star Risk left the medship, but knew better than to chance later voice recognition.

They hurried Sufyerd, on his stretcher, through the lock into the patrol ship, disconnected from the medship and, seconds later, went into hyperspace, even as Riss was administering the antidote for the poison.

"You know, technically, we could deliver Sufyerd, as soon as he comes to, on Reynard's doorstep, collect our money and just go home," Goodnight observed.

"And of course, you think he would cheerfully authorize the bonus check from the escrow account," von Baldur said.

"Um," Goodnight said. "Probably not."

"Certainly not," Grok corrected. "We might as well resign ourselves to proving Maen innocent before we see all those credits. Besides, we still haven't found the real Torguth agent, and that is still piquing my curiosity."

"Speaking of morality," Riss said, "which I wasn't, how much would you like to bet that young Sufyerd here, as soon as he comes too, starts bitching at me for �not letting justice take its course, and that now his reputation is forever clouded.' Even odds? Six to five? Two to one? Ten to one," Riss tried in desperation.

Even at that, nobody was willing to bet against her.

Two hours later, Sufyerd, fully recovered, indignantly confronted von Baldur about now being a fugitive, and that he would never be able to hold his head up in front of his fellow officers.

"Aw, shaddup," Goodnight said rudely. "At least you're going to have a frigging head."

That quieted Sufyerd. But only for an hour or two. He didn't stop sulking until the patrol ship had landed at one of Montrois's more secluded airfields, one of Fra Diavolo's pilots had picked him up and taken him to a certain location even Star Risk didn't know about, and reunited him with Cahamla and his children.

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FORTY-SIX � ^ � Riss idly stirred the bowl of unset precious stones called theones that Goodnight had, somewhat grumpily, given to "the cause." He didn't bother to explain that the "King of Thieves" had given him a bum steer when it came to recommending a fence. The address turned out to be a vacant lot, and Guayacurus had disappeared from his usual haunts.

Goodnight, knowing how closely they were watched, couldn't figure out another, absolutely safe way to get rid of the gems, and so decided to go for the good will.

As she stirred, Riss considered the screamer headlines floating in front of her.

The headline read: TRAITOR ESCAPES. The deck continued: torguth frees death row agent.

The com buzzed, and since Riss was watch officer, she fielded it. "Star Risk," she said cheerily.

L'Pellerin of the DIB filled the screen. His face was cold, hard. "I wish to speak to von Baldur," he said.

"A moment, sir," Riss said, muted the call, and buzzed von Baldur, who was investigating the kitchen for the possibilities of a feast.

"Freddie, it's the secret cop."

Von Baldur took the call.

"I assume," L'Pellerin said without preamble, "that you have an alibi for yesterday."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You were nowhere near the orbital fortress Maen Sufyerd was confined in, correct?"

"Good god, man," von Baldur said in utter astonishment, "of course I was not. Nor were any of my people, after Miss King's visit earlier in the day."

"Of course you weren't," L'Pellerin said. "You, and the rest of your hierarchy, are directed to turn yourselves in to my Dampier Information Bureau's Central Headquarters, for questioning. Bring your passports, for if no charges are pressed�which I doubt�you and your entire crew will be subject to immediate deportation."

The five Star Risk heads were met at DIB headquarters by armed guards and ushered through a side entrance into a medium-sized chamber, bare, with stained walls, a single bench along one wall.

There was a high desk, and behind it were two DIB plainclothesmen. Two others, equally goonish, stood on either side of the desk.

"You will surrender your papers," one said. The five obeyed.

"You are being held for questioning in the disappearance of Legate Maen Sufyerd, a condemned prisoner of this system. Due to you all being offworlders, bail will be denied to you, even after appropriate charges have been filed. I advise all of you to offer full cooperation, to avoid possibly uncomfortable circumstances."

"What rights do we have?" Goodnight asked.

"Those," one of the plainclothesmen on the floor said, "we choose to give you." He looked at both King and Riss, and smiled a very unpleasant smile.

"Frigging goons are the same all over," Goodnight said, and his grin was no less dangerous.

"Chas," von Baldur said mildly, "there is no need to be hostile. I am sure there is a simple explanation to our problem."

"There is," one of the goons agreed. "Full cooperation."

"Even when we know nothing?"

"I was told you were unlikely to be cooperative."

Goodnight looked at Grok, nodded slightly. Both imperceptibly braced for a response. One of the plainclothesmen looked nervously at the towering Grok, reached inside his jacket.

Goodnight was about to put pressure on his right jaw and go bester, when the door they'd just entered came open, and a tall, balding, red-faced man entered. Behind him were ten uniformed policemen, all in riot gear, all with heavy blasters at port arms.

"Good afternoon," the man said. "I am Deputy Guy Glenn, of Parliament's Upper Chamber. I am also a lawyer, licensed to practice in front of all Montrois courts, from military to Supreme."

"I know who you are," one of the men behind the desk grudged. "A damned Independent and one of Reynard's toadies."

"Excellent," Glenn said, unbothered by the insult. "Then there shall be no problem in your accepting this document, which frees these five beings, nor this one, which, filed in the Tuletian Supreme Court, also restrains you, or any other member of DIB, or any other justice official, from putting these beings into custody again, or in any way restraining their right to practice their chosen profession."

There was utter silence in the room.

"You can't do this!" one plainclothesmen said, his hand continuing toward his gun.

"Ah, but I just did," Glenn said. "Further�" and he snapped his fingers. The blast rifles came down from port arms, were aimed at the DIB officers. The sound of their blaster safeties clicking off was very loud.

The Star Risk operatives sidled left, out of the line of fire.

"I� I must summon L'Pellerin," one DIB managed.

"Please do," Glenn said, in a voice as smooth as his smile. "That will ensure proper understanding of the situation at the highest level, to prevent a repetition of this parody of justice."

L'Pellerin read the two documents Glenn had brought, twice. He looked up.

Von Baldur slightly admired him, for the only sign of his rage was a slight twitch to the right side of his mouth.

"This is totally illegal."

"But it is not," Glenn said. "Or are you accusing our Supreme Court of criminal practices?"

"In front of witnesses?" L'Pellerin said. "I'm not a fool."

"Then we shall be on our way," Glenn said, turning to the Star Risk operatives. "If you would accompany me?" The five obeyed.

L'Pellerin waited until they were at the door. "Tell Reynard he will bitterly regret what he did this day."

Glenn smiled, nodded his head, and the sixteen left. Outside, Riss nodded to Glenn. "Thanks. I really wasn't looking forward to a good rubber-hosing."

"Or worse," King said grimly.

"Or worse," M'chel agreed. "Freddie, I was wondering who you called before we left the mansion.

"Mr. Glenn, I owe you."