Spice Crimes Read online

  "Crew can do that if you let them."

  "I'll bet you didn't tolerate mood ruining in your outfit back in the Imperial forces.”

  Leonidas nodded. "Because good morale keeps a unit functioning better, and together. Why don't you contact them first before assuming they aren't at least still functioning as a team?”

  Okay, fine. She'd do as he asked. His sympathy made her feel warm and tingly inside. Her mood lifted. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him. His eyes widened, then closed and he kissed her back with a passionate intensity that left her breathless.

  Is this really the time for kissy face? Abelardus asked in her mind.

  Alisa pulled away from Leonidas, as reluctantly as she ever had, but didn't think a rejoinder back at the Star Seer.

  She commed the ship. "Beck. Mica. Yumi. Are you there?"

  No answer. "Please answer. Repeat, Star Nomad, answer."

  Leonidas raised an eyebrow in question.

  "What do you want to bet they decided to go off and get roaring drunk?” She asked Leonidas.

  “I suppose it’s possible,” he admitted.

  She put her hands on her hips. “It’s more than possible,” she groused. “It’s highly likely.” She ground her teeth. “Probably Mica’s idea, too.”

  “You think Doctor Dominguez accompanied them?” Leonidas asked.

  “Okay, that seems pretty unlikely. Maybe something else is going on.”

  Either way, she needed to make sure the Nomad was secure. If those idiots had left the ramp down, and the ship unsecure, she'd make them wish they hadn’t.

  She commed Stanislav.

  “Dad, I think we might be delayed meeting up with you.”

  “Oh?” He replied.

  “Yes. Where are you?” Alisa asked him.

  “Well, Jelana, Erick and I are heading to the Laser Palace. May I ask what the reason for the delay is?”

  She checked her comm for messages before answering. There was still no reply from the Nomad.

  “We’re still waiting to meet with Mica and the others,” Alisa told him.

  Her father’s voice became worried. “Is there a problem? I thought they were going to be in the park by now.”

  “They should have been. I’m guessing Beck, Mica, and Yumi just left the ship and headed someplace other than here,” Alisa said. “They probably conveniently forgot their comms, too.”

  “What about Alejandro?” Stanislav asked.

  Alisa frowned. “Perhaps they managed to get him to go with them, or maybe they knocked him out so he wouldn’t tattle.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Stanislav asked.

  “Probably,” Alisa replied, “But with Mica, you never know. We need to check for sure, since they aren’t answering. I also want to make sure they aren’t drunk and doodling all over the walls.”

  Her father laughed. “Hopefully that’s not the case.”

  “That’s what I aim to find out, Dad. Will you be okay? It might even mean our missing dinner, since we’re heading back to the spaceport. I don’t want you three to go hungry.”

  “We won’t. Good luck, Alisa.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” She paused before saying goodbye. “Love you, Dad.”

  “I—I love you, too, daughter.”

  “Bye, see you soon.” She ended the connection.

  Leonidas rubbed her shoulder. “I’m glad your father is with us.”

  She nodded, rubbed at her eye. Then her jaw tightened when she remembered why she wasn’t with Stanislav, Jelena and Ostberg.

  All right, Beck, Mica, and Yumi, what are you up to? she thought.

  No doubt no good, Abelardus said in her mind.

  Stop that, she replied, but she was concerned enough not to put much force behind it.

  “Okay, let’s go,” she said to Leonidas. She turned to the others. “We’re heading to the ship. You can stay here.”

  “We’ll join you,” Young-Hee replied, a slight smile playing on her lips.

  “I want to be there when you discover what they’ve been up to,” Abelardus said. “I want a change of entertainment.”

  Alisa frowned. “I don’t know how entertaining a dressing down will be.”

  Abelardus grinned. “Plenty, when it’s not directed at me.

  The others followed her. She practically sprinted to the maglev station. When she got to the Nomad, someone was definitely going to be in trouble.

  4

  Khouri Singh crouched beside a load-lifter in Docking Bay Three, and tried to make herself as invisible as possible. The load-lifter was parked just beyond the security camera’s field of view. According to her partner, Zavon Masters, the stolen starship was across the bay, its ramp up. The thieves hadn't stationed any guards. Obviously, they thought the ship secure.

  Her earstar activated. “My contact says they have taken the bait.” Zavon’s voice was low in her ear. He crouched just inside a maintenance tunnel opposite fifty meters off to her left.

  Khouri let her breath out. “Good,” she whispered. That would make recovering the starship and its cargo much easier. The bastards had stolen medical supplies that Zavon’s foundation desperately needed. Not only that, but they’d done it in a stolen ship. Zavon’s people were tracking down the original owners, but for now, Khouri and Zavon would reacquire the ship, and the cargo belonging to the Meridian Foundation. She’d then pilot the freighter to the Meridian Foundation’s headquarters on Teravia. As Khouri saw it, it wasn't stealing when you’re taking something already stolen, and with the intention of returning it to the original owners.

  “I told you it would work,” he said. He sounded smug.

  Khouri frowned. He always had to add that little bit. Zavon loved to gamble just a bit too much for her taste when it came to his plans and schemes, and loved to remind her when the gamble worked. "We still have to crack the ship's security system.”

  A pair of Sherran spaceport cops entered the dock. Khouri tried to hunker down further. The police wore dark blue jumpsuit uniforms, round caps, and had holstered stun guns.

  "We have to back off," Khouri whispered, loud enough for the earstar to pick it up. The cops on Sherran moon were corrupt; that was why she and Zavon couldn't go to them about the theft. He’d emphasized this when they planned this job.

  "No, I've got this," Zavon answered, and emerged from behind the stack of cargo cubes.

  Khouri winced. He was too cocky for his own good. It didn't matter if he was making it up to her for screwing things up between them, or risking a job because he thought the direct approach was the best way; he was always so sure of himself.

  "Hey there," Zavon said behind the cops, his voice easy and friendly. Khouri shifted her crouch so she could watch Zavon as he approached the cops.

  The cops turned. The young one put a hand on his holstered stunner, while the older one watched Zavon approach, her stance more relaxed.

  Zavon’s handsome face lit up with an easy-going expression. ”Hey, I was wondering about that hauler there." He nodded at the starship.

  "Oh?" the older asked. "You were?"

  What in the three suns was he doing? wondered Khouri.

  "Yes. Do you know how long it's been in dock?” Zavon asked.

  "Have you checked the port registry?" replied the male cop, his eyebrow raised, hand still resting on his holstered stun gun.

  Zavon gestured at the ship. ”That's the funny thing; it isn't in the registry."

  "It isn’t?" The male cop looked puzzled.

  The female cop’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Thank you for letting us know, but what is your interest in this ship, especially since you say it’s unregistered?”

  Khouri swallowed. In her experience when law enforcement became suspicious things could go pear-shaped pretty fast. She wanted to leap out to stop Zavon from doing something stupid, but it was already far too late for that. She looked sideways at the nearest exit. She’d have to walk across ten meters of open space to reach it. They’d spot her before
she’d taken two steps. She crouched lower.

  Zavon’s tone became confidential. “The ship is perfect for a cargo job I have, but I can’t find the operator since it isn’t registered. I was wondering if you could look into who the operator might be. I hit a stone wall when I tried to find out through the spaceport authority.” He handed a credit chip to the officers. “A little something for your trouble. I’m staying at the Nightside hotel. Suite 23. I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me in person. I can add another credit chip as a bonus for you if you are able to.”

  The lady cop pocketed the credit chip. “We’ll do that,” she said. “Have a good day, sir.” Incredibly, the two officers walked off, passing by the load-lifter where Khouri crouched, not so much as glancing in her direction.

  After they left Khouri emerged from her hiding place. Zavon was so infuriating. She could feel her face muscles tighten. If she forced herself to smile, it would just look like a grimace, so why bother?

  She walked up to him.

  "What in the mother and fathers were you doing?" Khouri blurted, her glance darting around the docking bay.

  Zavon grinned, relaxed, in his “devil-may-care” attitude. That attitude made her heart race and, at the same time, made her stomach clench. He could charm any woman (or any man, if he were so inclined) out of their clothes with just a few words, but he could also make her blood boil in frustration with a single rash action.

  "As I noted," he said smoothly, "the police here are corrupt right down to their DNA. It's why we couldn't go to them about the theft, and why I could easily talk them into my admittedly, slightly-ridiculous story."

  Khouri shook her head. "Slightly ridiculous?" It was hugely ridiculous.

  Zavon put a hand on her shoulder and despite her annoyance she shivered, an electric tingle running from where he touched up and down her body. "It wouldn't be fun if it weren't at least slightly ridiculous," he said.

  He had a point, and besides, he was too charming to be angry at when he’d been able to talk his way past a problem with the port cops. Her irritation faded and she smiled.

  She cracked her knuckles. "Time for me to get to work," she said, and walked over to the ship, Zavon sauntering lazily behind her; on the lookout, despite his nonchalant manner.

  The ship's name couldn't be made out from this angle. It was an ancient cargo hauler. Someone had added weapons; new-looking mounts were visible on the hull. A far cry from the sleek cutters she used to race when she'd been a teenager, back before the war, and before the fall of the Empire.

  Khouri frowned. It was no fun being on the losing side. She had made many provisioning runs for Imperial forces as a civilian. It wasn't the same as piloting a racing cutter in the Grand Solar Race, but provisioning runs were their own kind of hairy, as her old co-pilot Vishnu used to say. Toward the end, between dodging Alliance destroyers and pirates swooping in, it made things very lively.

  "The Empire's dead," Zavon said beside her.

  She rolled her eyes. "What are you, a mind reader?" she asked.

  He smirked. "You get this faraway look in your eyes when you are thinking about the old days."

  The “old days.” Could she even be old enough to have “old days?” She was twenty-seven, but it did feel like it had been half her life since the Emperor and Empress had died, even though it had been less than two years. He was right. There might still be an Imperial rump state, but the Empire in all its glory was gone for good.

  "Gone is gone," she said, and pulled out her "lock pick." She'd paid good money for the cylindrical-shaped device. The lock pick had come in handy when she was on the run after the Empire fell, and since.

  She pressed a tab on the side and the antennas extended, clicked into place. She flicked it on, and the pick hummed, searching the frequencies for the one that the cargo hauler’s security system used. The crew had to be able to use the hatch when they were outside the ship, otherwise they had to leave the ramp down the whole time, or have someone inside.

  “There’d better be no one inside,” she said, eyes on the lock pick's display.

  “Trust me, it worked,” Zavon said, sounding as smooth as chocolate. His voice was almost always as smooth as chocolate. If she weren’t concentrating so much, she’d feel like melting herself at the sound of that voice. But if this didn’t work, she wasn’t sure what would, and his foundation would fail to get the medical supplies.

  The display went green. She was in. Khouri grinned. This was more like it.

  Of course, if the ramp had its own security system, and there were crew still inside, then an alarm would be triggered. She glanced at Zavon. He stood with his back to the ship, gazing around the docking area. Good.

  Her shoulder muscles knotted up. What she wouldn’t give for a massage right now, but there was no time.

  She ordered the ramp to lower. Nothing. She tried a randomizer on the ramp controller, in case it had a simple code to unlock. They were talking about thieves, after all. They’d stolen the cargo Zavon’s foundation had purchased just to make a profit, with no concern for the people who might suffer at the loss.

  She felt her neck muscles tighten. Relax, she told herself. We are almost in. Just one last step.

  There was a loud whine and the cargo ramp began lowering. She pumped the air with her fist. Yes!

  Zavon put an arm around her shoulder. “Like plucking fruit from a tree, or watching a flower open up.”

  His breath was hot on her neck. She shivered. She wanted to pull him inside and get going fast on something other than the job, but she forced herself to focus. It had been too long since they had made love; things kept getting in the way. It wasn’t the same as when they were younger, before she broke it off. Getting back together was such a rush, but since that initial reconciliation there never seemed to be time. Zavon was so much more focused on his foundation these days. They were constantly traveling around the Tri-suns system. Yesterday it was Baku Moon, today Sherran Moon. Next was Teravia.

  The ramp lowered to the ground with a soft thump and stopped.

  Khouri half-expected to be greeted on the ramp by goons pointing blazer pistols, but there was no one there. Zavon’s confidence in his scheme appeared not to be misplaced, as her father used to say about some of his more difficult business ventures.

  In other words, Zavon’s gamble had paid off.

  “Let’s go, ace,” he said.

  Her stomach fluttered at what the nickname implied as they headed up the ramp and into the old cargo hauler.

  The ship had definitely seen better days. The decking was worn, and there was plenty of evidence of structural repair, systems repair, even door repair on the lower deck. Zavon stopped at a big cargo box, about two and a half meters wide by three long. He checked the readout on the lock there, and nodded to himself. Khouri stood off to one side. She had raised the cargo ramp as soon as they were inside, but a sense of impending doom hung over her. She wasn’t sure why—maybe it was because, corrupt port cops and a special lock pick aside—it hadn't been that hard to get inside the old, beat-up hauler carrying stolen supplies.

  “Found what you were looking for?” she asked.

  He gave her a lazy smile and made a circle with his thumb and forefinger.

  She started to make a crack about his being too confident, but a sudden sound from further forward in the cargo hold interrupted her. Khouri recognized that sound.

  There were chickens in what appeared to be a coop, toward the front of the cargo hold.

  “You’ve got to be kidding? Chickens on a freighter?” she asked Zavon. Beyond the coop was a tank. She stood up on her tip toes and noticed what looked like ducks and geese swimming in it. “Ducks and geese, too?” She wondered if there were fish inside that tank. “What kind of ship is this?”

  He shrugged. “Stolen, remember?” He paused, for an instant she thought he did something he never did—hesitate. After a moment he flashed his white teeth and laughed. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. The Foundation is expe
rimenting with having livestock on freighters to help resupply those in need.”

  That struck Khouri as odd, but people needed to eat. “It would be nice if you told me these things in advance.”

  He gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, slipped my mind.”

  She shook her head. She glanced around the hold. Aside from the big cargo box with the medical supplies, and the aquaponics tank and the chicken coop, the only thing in the hold was a rack of EVA harnesses attached to one wall. There were three harnesses, wrapped with patching tape, and a hand-written sign that read "forfeited property." There must be a story behind that, but Khouri had no idea what it was.

  Now to get to NavCom. Khouri had to keep from drumming her fingers on her trouser legs, there was so much nervous energy coursing through her.

  The schematics she’d studied for the old Nebulon Rambler 880 design indicated there would be stairs leading to the upper deck. The ship’s NavCom cabin would be toward the front of the vessel. The stairs were exactly where the schematic said they should be. She smiled.

  She practically sprinted to the stairs and ran as fast as she could to the upper deck. She paused at the top and listened. Each ship had similar sounds. There was the hushed whisper of the ventilation system, the quiet when the ship was empty, the beeping of an active NavCom. There were also the subtle, little physical touches that were a mark of an individual starship. This one felt lived in. Like a home, not just a vessel. Little things, like the child’s stickers on the wall, or the handwritten sign just around the corner that said, “Fine Food this way,” with an arrow pointing toward a mess hall with its tables and chairs, and a kitchen beyond.

  She’d had the impression that the foundation ships were minimally crewed and all business. But this ship was clearly someone’s home.

  Khouri walked to the bow of the ship and NavCom. It was powered down. She scanned the control panel, and pressed power on. The cabin lights came on and the console hummed to life. She sat in the pilot’s seat. It was comfortable, well-worn but not too worn. It was then she noticed the plush spider hanging over the co-pilot’s seat, suspended on a wire from the ceiling. Perhaps it was some kind of good luck charm. She used to have a chipped, silver starburst medal mounted on her sunrunner’s pilot console.