[05] Elite: Reclamation (14 page)

Tenim stared at the screen, his face a mask of fury.

‘Oh, you didn’t know?’ Octavia asked. ‘I take an interest in these little affairs. It’s the detail that counts …’

‘Kill her now,’ Tenim demanded. ‘If the Imperials …’

Octavia crossed her legs, relaxing into her chair. ‘Now why would I do that? I dare say the Imperials will be quite concerned that their own little machination has gone awry. They might make me a compelling offer.’

Tenim sighed and considered for a long moment. ‘How much do you want?’

Octavia smiled. ‘She’s not for sale. Not yet, anyway.’

‘What do you intend to do with her?’

‘She’s a pretty thing, don’t you think? My doctors tell me that the unit in which she is contained allows her memory to be restored. It even allows for that memory to be tweaked, her personality to be shaped and moulded, inclinations and preferences to be made … compatible.’

Octavia placed a finger on her lips and gently sucked the tip.

‘You want an Imperial whore? I can have a dozen with you inside a day.’

‘You can be so indelicate at times, Commissioner. My needs are rather more subtle than you might imagine.’

‘You need to kill her. If the Imperials get hold of her …’

Octavia leant forward. ‘If she’s that valuable, you’d better come up with an offer I can’t refuse before they do, hadn’t you?’

Tenim was about to reply, but Octavia cut him off, cancelling the call. The walls around her folded back and she stood up and stretched, enjoying the view of thousands of faint remote stars. She ran a hand across herself, shivering with anticipation.

***

Hassan watched the automechs mindlessly carrying out their tasks. They’d obviously been instructed to begin unloading the beleaguered Imperial ship almost immediately. As usual they carried out their tasks without supervision. They trundled up the cargo bay loading ramp in pairs, arranging themselves inside and then returned carrying out the large canisters. Each was stacked in a neat hexagonal configuration whereby further sets of the automech would carry them off.

Whilst waiting for the fuel to arrive Hassan had been watching the growing stack of cargo being pilfered from the
Caduceus
wondering what was contained within them. He selected one at random and pointe d a small device at it. A single beep was emitted. On the device a coded number appeared. Hassan grinned to himself.

He didn’t have to wait long. Two automechs lowered a fuel canister into position outside his vessel and proceeded towards him. As they did so he pulled the small device out of his pocket again.

‘Let’s see if you were worth it,’ he muttered to himself, pointing it towards the fuel canister. The device beeped twice, another code was displayed. Quickly he pointed the device back at the canister he’d selected and was rewarded with a further double beep. The automechs approached.

‘Specify the required destination of canister 45/DMJA/3327,’ the first machine stated, tonelessly.

‘Just load it into the cargo bay,’ Hassan replied.

The automechs spun around on their articulated wheels and trundled back down the loading ramp to the fuel canister they’d just deposited. They moved as if to secure it and then stopped. One stayed motionless, but the other turned around and moved back towards Hassan.

‘What’s up?’ Hassan asked innocently.

‘Specify location of canister 45/DMJA/3327,’ the machine queried.

Hassan gestured to the growing pile of canisters. ‘I think you’ll find it’s over there somewhere. Hurry up, I need to get going.’

The automech descended the ramp and rattled across the floor of the bay towards the growing stack of canisters, accompanied by its counterpart. Both moved around briefly until they located the canister Hassan had pointed at. Without thought or consideration they hefted it between them and brought it back to Hassan’s ship, depositing it in the cargo bay.

In the meantime Hassan had transferred the identity of the newly acquired canister to the fuel canister still residing outside his ship. The other automechs dutifully came and retrieved it, placing it with the others from the
Caduceus
.

Hassan shook his head with a rueful grin. Artificial Intelligence was dumb, automechs especially so. There was some law about keeping it that way that he vaguely recalled from simschool. The cargo decrypter had cost him several months hard trading, but it had worked.

Now to get out of here.

Octavia arranged for the canister with the Imperial girl in it to be separated from the rest of the cargo stolen from the
Caduceus
. The remaining canisters were quickly loaded aboard other vessels ready to be fenced off to other systems at inflated prices. There had been an eclectic mix of foodstuffs and luxuries aboard, spares for the Loren’s lavish celebration. They would fetch a tidy profit. Her two primary guards stood awaiting her arrival.

‘Cargo is unloaded, Domina,’ the senior guard said as she arrived. ‘The pirates have been … entertained. The lone ship will carry your message as requested. He’s just made the jump-out …’

‘Excellent,’ Octavia nodded and then gestured at the remaining canister. ‘Open it and take the pod to my chambers.’

The guard nodded and stepped up to the canister, prodding the hatch release. It swung back with a hiss.

Inside were tightly packed tubular metal bottles all bearing a common warning.

Caution. Liquidised Hydrogen. Observe Safety Protocol 26645/5a.

The guard quickly ran an identity scan of the canister, turning to face Octavia in complete bewilderment.

‘Where is my pod?’ Octavia asked, her voice icy.

‘I don’t understand …’

Octavia stepped up to inspect the interior of the canister, her fingers clenching into fists.

‘Where did this fuel come from? There was none on the manifest. It was foodstuffs and luxuries.’

‘I …’ the guard stuttered.

Octavia whirled on him. ‘Yes?’

‘The Commander of the Eagle ordered fuel. But he couldn’t have …’

‘Swapped the ID codes? Clearly he could!’ Octavia bellowed. ‘You festering fool! Weren’t you supervising the operation?’

‘The automechs were …’

She grabbed him by the throat and propelled him backwards against the side of the canister. It rang with the impact.

‘You let him steal from me? You let a flux-sucking low birth steal my prize?’

The guard struggled to say something but he was given no reprise. She pulled back, slamming his head against the canister again and again. Even up to the third time he tried to free himself. A stomach-turning wet crunch followed the fourth impact and his body went limp in her grasp. Eventually she threw the body to the floor in disgust and turned her attention to the second guard, who was still standing, pale-faced, behind her. He was watching the pool of dark red blood spreading from the mangled head of his erstwhile superior.

‘Find that ship and bring it back intact,’ Octavia howled. ‘Immediately!’ She had a crazed and haunted looked in her eyes as her voice dropped to a whisper.

‘And I want the pilot alive.’

Chapter Five

The three kilometre mass of
Hiram’s Anchorage
swept past on the forward viewer. As usual the immense facility was surrounded by freighters either empty and inward bound, docked unloading Tantalite ore having risen from the surface of Chione or loading up with refined Tantalum ready to head back out of the system. From this vantage point in high orbit it was difficult to make out the mining operations on the northern hemisphere, they were obscured by the wispy cloud formations that drifted across the world.

Between the freighters a panoply of smaller ships zipped around; refuellers, small restaurant ships, advertising droid-boards and the freighters’ fighter escorts. A salvage gang could be seen dismantling a series of old wrecks and breaking them for parts and alloys.

It was easy to tell the different factions apart based on their design. Imperial ships with smooth organic lines and flowing curves, Federation ships with bold, stark and functional form. The Alliance vessels were a blend of the two, resulting in some oddly configured vessels.

Dalk left the docking arrangements to the autopilot as he continued to watch the vista unfolding before him. He looked past
Hiram’s Anchorage
with a grim expression on his face. The big station was functional, a mining and refining platform custom-built by the Mastopolis Mining Corporation and brought in by the Imperials three years before. Even their designers had been unable to tame its aesthetics to something pleasing. There was only so much you could do with an industrial facility. Inside it was little different. Vast processing plants and power amenities composed the bulk of the interior with only a relatively small section reserved for recreation, food and lodging. The rest was taken up by docking facilities for the large number of ships the station handled on a daily basis.

It was also heavily defended. Mining operations were lucrative and whilst there had been no historic trouble in the Prism system,
Hiram’s Anchorage
was more than capable of defending itself from any who had a desire to help themselves. A huge rotating habitat ring completed the monstrous facility.

One day the Tantalite will be exhausted, then things will change.

Dalk smiled to himself. If all went well, things would change far sooner than that.

The surface shuttle orientated itself towards a docking bay and flew inwards, latching into place with smooth precision. Dalk disembarked, quickly threading his way towards the rotating habitation levels of the station. Here, at least, life was reasonably luxurious.

His cabin featured a circular orifice that scrolled open to reveal a breathtaking view of Chione, slowing turning in the view with the rotation of the habitation ring. Daedalion could be seen slowly rising behind it, lightning crackling from a major storm raging in its atmosphere. Dalk had yet to take a trip to that massive world. Totally covered by endless ocean there was no great scenery to admire, but some of the animals that inhabited its almost unfathomable seas were magnificent beasts by all accounts. He’d a desire to take a classic old Moray sub-aqua vessel and go hunting, pitting his wits against those behemoths.

Perhaps one day.

Dalk surveyed Chione for a long moment. From this vantage point it looked unspoiled, virgin, very much as he remembered it back in the days before the Appropriation. The most pleasant parts of the world were in the southern hemisphere, where a series of archipelagos dotted the Garian Sea. He’d just come from one such series of islands, New Ithaca
,
the location of the Loren’s now defiled Imperial Palace. The north was dominated by a large continent and a vast plateau thrust high above the surrounding land. It was dry and barren for the most part, bordered by steppes and then dry grasslands before a narrowing promontory of land at the equator provided enough moisture to support lush forests.

That plateau played host to the mining operation, conveniently far enough away from habitable areas so as not to be a source of irritation. It was, nonetheless, a scar on the surface.

A holofac transmitter in the suite chimed softly and illuminated. Dalk expected the call. He gestured in acknowledgement and turned to face his visitor as he materialised in the middle of the room.

Dalk bowed in the customary way, acknowledging the Imperial ambassador, Cuthrick Delaney. As usual he was decorated in his Imperial regalia, his tiara now even more flamboyant than before.

‘Ambassador. I’m honoured to receive your communication, revered servant of the Empire,’ Dalk said.

Cuthrick bowed, his bow just a fraction less low than Dalk’s, an acknowledgement of their relative status in Imperial society. ‘Patron Dalk, always a pleasure.’

‘I trust all is well.’

Cuthrick straightened. ‘Alas, it is not.’

Dalk looked up in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The
Caduceus
has not made its scheduled rendezvous here.’

Dalk’s face fell. ‘Not made …’

‘Once it was overdue we sent out a scout to search for it, wideband communications being ill-advised.’

‘And?’

‘The scout has just reported back. Debris from Imperial fighters was located in a dark system en route. There was no sign of the
Caduceus
at all. It would appear your audacious plan has run into something of a set back.’

Dalk paced for a moment.

‘Ambushed. It couldn’t have been a chance encounter. Which dark system?’

Cuthrick gestured and the holofac before him expanded to create a three-dimensional map of the nearby systems.

‘Wreckage was found here,’ Cuthrick said, indicating a point about one-third of the way between Prism and Haoria.

Dalk thought hard. ‘You say there was no sign of the
Caduceus
?’

‘None that could be detected.’

Dalk rubbed his chin and turned back to the circular window, staring out at Chione.

‘Without the girl our claim is legally unsupportable,’ Cuthrick continued. ‘A confrontation with the Federation will be unavoidable. We cannot afford to lose such a significant source of Tantalum. Our ambitions in this sector cannot be thwarted.’

Dalk turned back. ‘How much time have I got?’

Cuthrick shrugged. ‘Two weeks. It will require that long to arrange a force sufficient to overwhelm the Federation presence. You believe she’s still alive?’

‘You say the
Caduceus
wasn’t found.’ Dalk frowned, considering. ‘It’s been taken. This was no random strike of bad luck or lucky happenstance on behalf of a hapless pirate. Somebody knew what we were doing. Somebody with close ties to this system.’

‘Federation spies are talented fiends.’

Dalk shook his head. ‘Not the Federation, they believe they’ve killed her. It’s not in their interest to keep her alive. Somebody else has her, somebody who …’

He looked back that the holofac system chart, his eyes tracing the route between the stars. Then he turned back to Cuthrick.