Space Assassins: The Complete Series 1-5, page 16
“So, no Drooks to sweeten the score?” Hozark said. “A pity. Is this piece of refuse even worth our time?”
“Well, there is one person aboard,” she replied. “Though he’s been rather pathetic in his skree communications.”
“Pathetic?”
“The usual, sir. Whining. Telling his sad tale. Begging for mercy. That sort of thing,”
Hozark laughed, the captain’s gruff voice coming from his mouth, courtesy of his Ghalian magic.
“No mercy. Not when there is coin to be had,” he said. He spotted the young crewmember across the command center. “Isn’t that right, Tür?”
“Uh, yes. Never leave coin on the table, Captain,” he said, both thrilled and terrified to be singled out in front of the others.
“Well said,” Hozark replied with a grin. “All right, then. Stun spells, but go light with them. No sense wasting resources over just one man.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” the weapons specialist said as he prepared to cast.
The words flowed from his lips as the konuses mounted to his station delivered the magic needed to overwhelm the hapless man within the little derelict craft. The small spell was easily enough to render anyone unconscious. Anyone who didn’t know what was coming, that is. And Hozark had made sure that Bud and Demelza both had ample shielding power to protect them.
They moved in quickly to secure the drifting ship and its crew, assuming its pilot to be incapacitated. But that was far from reality, for once the spell had hit the craft and dissipated, Demelza would collect the defensive konuses from her colleague and hide them on herself beneath her shimmer cloak.
To the average observer boarding the little ship, it appeared as though Bud had been knocked unconscious. But he was alert. Playing a part. And Demelza? The assassin stealthily followed him into the invading party’s craft.
“We have taken both the ship and its pilot,” Hozark was informed.
“Good. Place him in holding and secure his craft. I know just the place to go to see if any coin is to be had for it.”
No one was the wiser, it seemed, and the plan was getting underway just as they had hoped. Now they just needed to take their time, resupplying and acting completely normally to avoid drawing any suspicion from the crew. Then, and only then, they would head to Ahkrahn.
“Ahkrahn?” the scarred woman asked when told their eventual destination.
“Yes. It is time to offload some of our cargo, and Visla Sunar will give us a good price for our wares.”
“Of course, Captain,” she replied, still a bit unsure.
This could be a problem. Apparently, visiting Sunar’s estate was a bit more of an unusual occurrence than he’d originally expected. Hozark had to improvise, and fast.
“We will be flying hard after this. I want my cells full and coffers overflowing in a month’s time,” he growled.
“Yes, Captain.”
“But, given the tasks that await us, it is my desire that the crew have a little shore leave before we embark on such a strenuous task. That is why I have selected Visla Sunar’s estate as our destination. The cities around him are ideal for the men to recreate while I deal with the visla.”
Heads turned ever so slightly at his words. The crew knew better than to tempt fate and express their disbelief and excitement at the prospect of shore leave on Ahkrahn. Compared to most worlds they stopped on, this would be a downright luxurious respite, though one man couldn’t help but say something.
“Your generosity is appreciated, Captain. And two shore leaves in so short a period? Thank you, sir. Thank you!”
The others glared at the man, silently willing him to just shut the hell up before he made the captain change his mind.
Shit. They just had shore leave? Hozark silently lamented. Incredible. Just my luck. Well, there’s nothing to do about it now.
“Yes. A second respite break is warranted,” he said to the assembled crew. “But it is not out of the kindness of my heart, I can assure you.” His steely glare made it clear he was speaking true. “I noted an increase in productivity after the last shore leave. This pleases me, and I wish to see this trend continue. But do not mistakenly think this is about your happiness. It is about your work improving. Disappoint me, and it will be a long, long time before it happens again.”
Silent nods met his gaze as the crew set back to work.
Good. This is working out after all, he mused.
All that remained now was the tedium of returning to orbit and completing their resupply. After that, the interesting part would begin.
Chapter Eleven
With one of his and Demelza’s previously delayed contracts completed, and the dead man’s ship now under his command, Hozark settled into the captain’s quarters to study the cargo manifest and familiarize himself with his new assets.
Distasteful as it was, he was a slave trader, for all intents and purposes, and he had to act the part. And that included potentially selling or trading some of his cargo upon arrival on Ahkrahn. Fortunately, despite his often brutal ways, Visla Sunar was a businessman first and foremost.
The slaves in his stables were always well cared for. Not for their benefit, of course, but because a healthy slave fetched a higher price. And it looked like he would be adding a few more to those numbers soon. The one question that lingered, however, was why Laskar had been moved to the innermost part of the visla’s compound.
Regardless of their landing within the inner walls, this would nevertheless be a far from simple rescue. Something, Hozark again reminded himself, Wampeh Ghalian simply did not do.
But this was different, and it was not for hire. This was saving a part of his––he hated to say it––team. Those to whom he owed a debt of gratitude. There was simply nothing else for it.
A knock at his door rang out right on schedule.
“Come,” he called out, releasing the door’s locking wards.
A pair of guards entered the room, a somewhat disheveled prisoner shoved in front of them.
“This is the newest addition?”
“Yes, Captain. As you requested.”
Hozark eyed their new prize with interest. “Very well. I’ll take it from here.”
“Will you be wanting this, Captain?” the man asked, holding out a gleaming golden band.
“Of course. Leave it on the table. I will not require it for now,” he said, adjusting the konus on his wrist with a menacing grin.
The guards nodded, then left both the control collar and prisoner in their captain’s more than capable hands.
“Well, that sure sucked,” Bud said, taking a seat once the door had sealed and the silencing wards were once again put in place.
The captain stared at him silently a moment.
“Uh, that is you, isn’t it?”
Hozark cracked a grin. “Indeed, it is, Bud. Good to see you, my friend.”
“They stuck me in a cell with the most disgusting creature I’ve ever seen. Stumpy little legs that only came up to my knees. And rolls of dark-gray skin that it actually hid bits of food in.”
“Ah, that sounds like a Faroon. Quite unusual to find one outside of their own system. Did it happen to have external gill apparatus?”
“You mean the weird frilly stuff sticking out of its neck?”
“To aid in gas exchange as it breathes. Yes, a Faroon, most certainly. Not a true amphibian race, mind you, but they can draw breath from many environments not suited to most other species.”
“Well, gee, thanks, Hozark. I feel so much better about being stuck in a box with a stinky, frilly-necked, food-hoarding, non-amphibian. Totally makes it all right.”
Hozark chuckled. “You knew this would be a difficult mission, Bud. And I remind you, it is your copilot we are rescuing.”
“I know, I know,” Bud groused. “So, I see you had no trouble assuming Dortzal’s place.”
“The transfer went smoothly, yes. I also learned a bit more about our cargo, now that I have full access to all of the manifests. It seems we are carrying not only the regular retinue of run-of-the-mill slave laborers, but there is apparently a contingent of Ootaki aboard.”
“Not terribly unusual, though.”
“No. But these Ootaki were free-folk.”
Bud blanched. “You mean, they found one of the uncharted enclaves?”
“It would appear that way. Mind you, it was a small group, and the larger, neighboring communities appear to have caught wind of the attack before the Tslavars reached their homes. But nevertheless, there are roughly a dozen Ootaki aboard. And all of them unshorn.”
Bud realized what that meant. Power. A lot of power. And their ticket into Sunar’s innermost sanctum. But there was a problem.
“You know how I feel about slavery, Hozark.”
“And you know I am in agreement with you,” the assassin replied. “However, this group is already in slave trader hands. And at least on Ahkrahn, they will be well treated. It seems Dortzal’s original intent was to bring these directly to a member of the Council of Twenty, bypassing the normal channels.”
“That’s weird,” Bud said.
“Indeed. And more unusual is that there is no mention of the person’s name. It seems the captain was being far more cautious than normal in keeping this a secret.”
“It’s like what happened with Visla Horvath and Emmik Rostall,” Bud noted. “They were pulling some sneaky shit too.”
“There seems to be a silent power struggle going on within the Council of Twenty. And someone is amassing Ootaki, likely gathering up all the power they can before making their move. By depositing these Ootaki with Visla Sunar, we are disrupting their plans, though not by design.”
“Call it an extra bonus, then,” Bud said with a grin. “So, what’s next?”
Hozark’s eyes fell upon the golden control collar resting on the table, and the smile fell from Bud’s face.
* * *
“Captain Dortzal! Visla Sunar has asked me to wish you a warm welcome to his humble estate.”
The estate was anything but humble. Opulent in its splendor was more like it. But Hozark merely nodded offhandedly to the visla’s servant.
“Where’s the visla? I don’t deal with lackeys,” Hozark said, playing the role of cocky slaver captain to the hilt.
“Ah, yes. Well, you see, we were not expecting you, Captain,” the man continued.
“No, you were not. But when I came across this cargo, I knew the visla would be most interested in them, so I plotted a course straight here to give him first pick.”
Seventeen collared slaves were ushered out of the craft as they spoke. The inner walls were too small to accommodate the slave captain’s ship, but given the nature of his cargo, he was offered a landing spot inside the main walls and right up against the entry to the central enclave.
“The visla wished me to invite you to dinner later. He should have time after––Oh, my!” the servant said as the flow of slave offerings shifted from laborers and gladiator fodder to a small group of Ootaki, their golden hair long and unshorn. “The visla will be most pleased indeed!” he exclaimed. “Please, follow me. The visla is, of course, most thrilled to have you with us. Allow me to show you to a room we have readied for you.”
The man then nodded to the guards. The slaves would be taken to the holding pens, where they would be fed and allowed to rest before being inspected by the visla himself.
“You, there,” Hozark called out to one of the slaves.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Come here.”
The recently captured man stepped out from the line and made his way to the Tslavar captain.
“Those bags there. Pick them up and follow me,” Hozark commanded, then turned back to the visla’s welcoming party. “This one seems strong enough of back and weak enough of mind. I think I will utilize him as a manservant until the trade is complete.”
“Of course, Captain. Now, please, if you’ll follow me.”
They started walking, but Uzabud was staring at the opulence of the visla’s home, and as a result was a little slow in picking up the captain’s bags.
“Nari pa!” the visla’s servant said.
Bud fell to his knees as the stun spell surged through his control collar.
“You would do well to remember your place, slave. Now, pick up your master’s bags and follow.”
Bud bit his tongue and grabbed the bags. To mouth off would only result in more shocks, and though Hozark had modified the control collar as best he could to reduce its potency, there was simply no way he could be brought into the grounds without one.
A false collar, though useful in lesser worlds, was out of the question. Something like that would be noticed almost immediately. So it was that Bud was forced to wear an actual control collar in order to gain access to the visla’s grounds. For the moment, Bud really was a slave.
“At least give me the release spell,” he had begged Hozark.
“I will tell it to you, but you are an unpowered being, Bud. Without a konus to power the spell, you will be unable to cast it.”
“Still, I’d feel better having it.”
“Very well. The spell is Captain Dortzal’s own modification. ‘Ngthiri oolama tzaldor.’”
“Got it.”
“Remember, Bud, it will not work for you without a konus.”
“I know.”
“And prepare yourself for what is to come. As a slave, you may experience some... discomfort while within the visla’s walls.”
“How bad can it be?”
Hours later, Bud had indeed experienced a little taste of what his friend had warned him about. Fun, it was not. Shifting into his role as slave, he shouldered the bags and followed Hozark and Visla Sunar’s servant into the depths of the innermost chambers.
Hozark turned to his crew as they departed. “You men, tell the others once the ship is clean and secured, they’re released for shore leave in the city. Recreate and enjoy yourselves, but remember, you represent Captain Dortzal while on this world, and I expect you to not sully my reputation. You know what’ll happen to any who do.”
The Tslavars indeed knew full well what it meant to incur the wrath of their captain and merely nodded respectfully, then set about their tasks, looking forward to the many pleasures to be had in the nearby town.
Bud trotted behind Hozark and their guide, his bags hanging from both shoulders and across his back. For so short a stay, the captain certainly did seem to have a fair amount of luggage. But for one such as Captain Dortzal, allowances for eccentricity were made.
Still, a perfunctory magical examination of the bags was made as soon as they’d been placed within the compound walls. Clothing, a few bottles of spirits, but nothing more. No hidden weapons or magical devices of any sort. He was obeying the rules of the house, as was expected of one such as he.
What Visla Sunar’s staff did not know was that the ‘slave’ he had then called over to carry his bags was actually armed to the teeth, with all manner of magical and conventional devices fastened to his body beneath his loose-fitting slave’s garb.
He wore a control collar. He was a slave. He was less than a person in their eyes, and no one would ever think he would be carrying forbidden weapons. And Hozark was taking full advantage of that fact.
Chapter Twelve
“That was not cool,” Bud grumbled as he ran his fingers across the skin of his neck beneath the smooth metal collar. “That shit hurt!”
“It was a stun spell, Bud. It was supposed to hurt,” Hozark replied. “Maybe if you’d been paying more attention to the part you were playing rather than sightseeing, you would have avoided the discomfort. Though, to be fair, it did reinforce the illusion quite nicely.”
“Illusion? The bastard actually shocked me.”
“Yes. And with that, he felt completely at ease with you, henceforth viewing you as nothing more than a mere slave and not worthy of any more of his attention. Sometimes being invisible has nothing at all to do with the use of a shimmer cloak or camouflage, Bud. Sometimes, being of a certain class is enough. And with that, you often find you will have access to places otherwise unreachable.”
Bud thought on it a long moment. Of course, Hozark was right. The man had infiltrated countless high-security establishments, killing their inhabitants and escaping intact every time. He was one of the five Ghalian masters. When it came to this sort of thing, only a fool would question his expertise.
“So, we’re inside now. But how do we find Laskar? I didn’t see any sign of him when we were escorted in.”
“Once again, this is where your less-than-a-person status comes in handy. I obviously cannot inquire of the man, but you are a servant. And servants see all. Here, put this on,” Hozark said, tossing a clean tunic to the collared man.
“What’s this?”
“Proper servant’s attire. The more you look like my personal assistant and not a run-of-the-mill slave, the more likely the other staff will speak freely with you.”
Hozark’s plan was suddenly beginning to become a bit clearer. He would play the part that had allowed them access into the innermost reaches of the visla’s private estate, but it was Bud who would likely have the most success finding out the actual location of their endangered friend.
Hozark summoned one of the residence’s staff via the convenient house skree located in his chamber. A few minutes later, a pale blue woman with enormous eyes and an opalescent sheen to her skin appeared at his door.
“Yes, Captain? You summoned?”
“I am hungry, and it looks like I won’t be dining with Visla Sunar until much later. I need some food.”
“Of course, Captain. What can I bring for you?”
“My servant knows my tastes. I am going to take a hot bath and wash away the aches from far too much time out in space.”
