The Complete Razia Series, page 35
"Wow, you really do suck at this."
"Ssh!" Lizbeth said, as Relleck stood with the man's keys in his hand. Relleck said a few more words to him, and the two men laughed as Relleck strolled away, spinning the keys around his finger. The other man looked pleased with himself, if not ready to go on vacation, as he sipped on his coffee.
"I'm not an expert in pirate hijackings," Lizbeth noted, dryly. "But I don't think—"
"No, it wasn't normal," Razia said. "At least, when Tauron used to do them, the guys were a little bit surprised—if not annoyed. It was never…expected like this?"
"Let's see where he goes," Lizbeth said.
***
Razia shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot between the two boxes that she assumed held raw ore, based on the smell. It made her head spin, or maybe the lack of air pressure and limited artificial gravity was the cause. The transport guild had mandated that all transport companies utilize a minimum set of life-preserving features within each shipping container, as they were tired of finding cold, asphyxiated bodies in their shipments. But the pressure and warmth was only enough to sustain life, not to make it comfortable. After all, they just wanted to prevent stowaway deaths, not encourage freeloaders.
Still, even with the pressure in her head and the tingling cold in her fingertips, she was warm from excitement. She was going to go "catch" Tauron today, the same way she had been catching him for years now. This game they played started when he realized Harms had given her a pirate log-in to the Universal Bank, and she was able to track him through his aliases. So he'd created a new one, and she'd found him yet again. Then he began using multiple aliases, switching back and forth. She figured out his pattern and anticipated where he'd be next. Of course, in-between these rounds, he would drag her back to the Planetary and System Science Academy and tell her to stay there. It had been a while since he begrudgingly accepted her as a pseudo member of his crew, but he still refused to make it easy for her to find him. That was how she liked it.
What she didn't like was having to get to D-882. Unsurprisingly, legal shipments to the pirate planet were quite rare, and she'd learned more than once about climbing onto a transporter and hoping it would get hijacked. Calling for help was useless. The one time she'd called Tauron to come and get her, he'd laughed in her face and told her to figure it out. That didn't mean he wasn't beaming with pride when she showed up half a day later. He told her it was character-building, tests for when she was out in the real world without him.
She checked his transaction history to see if he'd left D-882.
Ball, Tauron
Time of Transaction
Location
Amount
UT20012-05-12-00:00
D-882
0C
-END OF HISTORY-
Her breath caught in her throat.
Suddenly, the doors of the shipping container flew open and she was staring at the Arch of Eron in the center of Leveman's Vortex, a rope hanging from the center, and a hooded man standing on the dais.
"Tauron!" she screamed, scrambling to get to him, but her legs were lead.
She smelled sulfur. Plethegon.
Under her feet, the ground began to crumble. She was unable to breathe, a noose wrapped tight around her own neck.
The ground gave way under her…
"Yo!" Lizbeth's voice snapped her out of her dream.
Razia sat up-right and immediately regretted it, as her vision filled with black dots from moving too fast. She still felt like she was falling, but she realized they were descending onto a planet. Without the gravity stabilizers, they were forced to endure the shifting pressures—one of the unfortunate downsides of not riding in the main cabin of a ship.
"Leveman's, the things I do for this job," Lizbeth moaned, bracing herself on the boxes of raw ore. She gave Razia a curious glance. "Are you okay over there? You're pretty pale."
Razia's heart was still pounding from her dream, and her chest ached. She had forgotten for a brief moment, and was filled with such warmth and happiness. In the cold reality, however, she remembered that he was gone forever.
"Hey?" Lizbeth repeated. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Razia nodded. With a great thump, the transport ship landed, shifting all the boxes around them as they settled firmly back on the ground.
"So I guess we're here?" Lizbeth said, standing up slowly.
"Yeah, but where is here?" Razia wondered aloud, also coming to her feet. She pressed her ear to the container door, listening intently. When she didn't hear any voices or steps approaching, she lifted a lever to open the door.
Air rushed in as the door slid open. They were in a docking station of some kind, blackened and dirty from years of use. There weren't any other ships that she could see, but she did spy a familiar stone clocktower out a grungy window.
"We're on S-864," Razia gasped.
"The capital planet?" Lizbeth blinked. "Why would Relleck go here?"
"I don't know, but this is definitely nowhere near S-6642."
"And I don't remember there being any record of material going to S-864." Lizbeth shook her head. "Besides that, how in Leveman's Vortex did he get here so fast?"
Somewhere in the room, a large machine hummed to life.
"What's that?" Lizbeth asked.
"I—" Razia stumbled to her knees as the container lifted upwards. The door flew open as the container swung in the air, and a box tumbled out, exploding as it hit the ground. Razia's eyes nearly flew out of her head when she registered the contents sprawled out on the floor.
"Guns?" Razia gasped before the force of the container stopping in mid-air tossed her to the ground. She gripped the floor as it swung back and forth. Without the humming of the machine, she was able to hear voices.
"Did you check the cargo and make sure it was secured?" Razia didn't recognize the man's voice, but from the tone, she assumed that he was in charge.
"Listen, Sarge, my job is to drive the ship," a voice that was most assuredly Relleck responded. "If you got a problem with the way it's packed, then you gotta talk to Angelino."
"If anything else is missing or damaged, it's going to come out of your fee," the man replied. "And it's Major, pirate."
"Roger that, Major Pirate," Relleck said, and Razia could almost see his smirk.
If there was more conversation, she didn't hear it, as the machine hummed to life and they were swinging again, this time headed downwards. They landed with a hard thump that made all the boxes shift again, and they could hear the major screaming at the operator to be more careful.
Razia was too caught up in the bliss of standing on solid ground to realize that the door to the shipping container was wide open, nor notice the sound of footsteps approaching.
"Hide, Lyssa!" Lizbeth hissed, diving behind a stack of boxes.
"What?" Razia said, standing up just as the door fully opened and she was face-to-face with two young soldiers.
"Shit."
***
Razia took stock of her situation silently:
She was tied to a chair in a makeshift office off the side of the shipping warehouse, with one soldier and his gun standing by to guard her. She was slightly offended by their underestimation of her, but she was more thankful that it would be easy enough to escape once she was untied. Lizbeth was nowhere to be found, which was either a good thing or a bad thing. She hoped that the investigator was smart enough to make herself scarce and sneak off the shipping container after Razia had made a fuss.
As Razia was dragged through the warehouse by the two guards, she noted the stacks and stacks of other shipping containers, much as she'd seen on the planet where she'd captured Cree Hardrict. But unlike on B-725425, these boxes were filled with guns, or at least some of them were—guns transferred in a faux hijacking from G-279 by Relleck, who said he had his own "special deal."
She peered around at the dusty window, spotting the clocktower next to the presidential palace. Who would want to transport guns to the capital city, especially so close to the seat of the Universal Government? The thought made her nervous. Though she couldn't care less about the UBU, complete anarchy wouldn't help anybody.
She glanced over at her guard, wondering how this military man could be mixed up in something illegal, when she realized with a jolt that his gray uniform wasn't that of a soldier. She could see a patch on his chest that she didn't recognize, clearly making out a double letter S.
But the man in charge had been called Major, which meant he was a soldier. So was this a commercially owned warehouse or one owned by the military? Razia peered around to the manager's desk nearby. If there were any markings or paperwork, they might be able to tell her who owned this warehouse and what it was being used for. Anything she could use to get out of this unscathed.
"Oy, quit looking," the guard growled at her.
Razia cleared her throat. "Fine then. Why don't you tell me what's going on here, junior?"
He flinched when she spoke but said nothing.
"It's rude not to answer people," Razia replied.
"And it's rude to invite yourself to places you are not wanted."
Razia sat up straight, wondering why she was surprised to see the bald man from the secret pirate meeting stroll into the office. He wore the same gray uniform as the guard, who saluted him as he would a superior officer before walking out of the room. The bald man was standing closer to her than the guard had, and she could see that the stitching under his patch said Secure Solutions.
"Well, it's rude to not invite people to things, too," Razia replied, wondering how much information she could suss out of him before she managed to get herself free. Secure Solutions—she'd have to remember that.
He was smiling at her amusedly. "I have to admit, I am impressed by your tenacity. But you have a habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. And that has to stop."
To prove his point, he pulled a small pistol out of his pocket.
"How boring," Razia scoffed. "Do you really think that's going to scare me?"
He shrugged, but the gun remained level. "I would hope it would persuade you to tell me what I want to know."
"You know, I won't be able to tell you anything if I'm dead," she said with a smirk.
In response, he moved the gun to point at her shoulder.
"And I'm not going to want to tell you anything if you shoot anything less vital, either," she said. "You could, of course, try asking nicely."
After a few moments, he re-holstered his gun. "I like you, Razia. You've got spunk."
She chuckled. "That's what they tell me. So what do you want to know?"
"I want to know how you got into my shipment," he said, leaning against the desk.
"Snuck on. Wanted to know what Relleck was bragging about—and to see if I could get a cut of it."
He cursed under his breath. "That pirate has been a pain in my ass since…"
"I can take care of him for you," Razia said adding, "well, he'd be out of commission for a night."
"Yes, I hear you're quite adept at finding people," he said. "So how's about a deal? In exchange for your assistance, I may consider letting you go…without shooting anything vital."
Razia shook her head. "I never agree to a deal until I know the specifics. And it's a bit hard for me to agree to anything while tied up."
"You help me find that other woman who infiltrated our meeting, and I will let you go," he smiled. "I'll even add a sizable bonus."
Razia's heartbeat quickened, but her face remained stoic. "What do you know about her?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," he said. "But she keeps showing up in places where she's not supposed to be, and we'd like to find her and…take care of her."
"The less I know about what you're planning to do, the better," Razia said, nodding to her tied hands. "Now, if you'll untie me so I can look in my mini-computer, I should be able to find her in about five minutes."
"I'll hold you to that," he said, stepping behind her and cutting her ties with a knife.
Razia rubbed her wrists for a moment, assessing the situation in her head—how far he was from her, where his pistol was on his hip. How long it would take him to grab said pistol.
Then she shot out her leg, knocking him to the floor. On instinct, she grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on, the chair she had been just tied to, and whirled it around, knocking the bald man to the floor. He lay there, motionless, and she tossed away the remnants of the wooden chair.
The door opened just as she was running to it, and she found herself face-to-face with the barrel of a gun.
"Oh, you got free?"
Razia let out the breath she was holding when she saw the familiar friendly face of Lizbeth behind the gun.
"Well shit," Lizbeth said, dropping the gun lower. "And here I was coming to rescue you."
"Yeah, right." Razia rolled her eyes. "Let's get out of here."
***
"So they don't know anything about me?" Lizbeth smiled.
"Not even your name," Razia replied.
They were on yet another crammed shuttle on S-864, trying to lose anyone who might have followed them. Razia had to take care of two guards at a side entrance, but other than that, it was relatively easy to sneak out of the warehouse.
Almost too easy, Razia decided.
"I think it's time I go deliver a report to my superiors," Lizbeth said, looking out the window into the darkness of the underground shuttle tunnel. Yet again, General State stared down at them from his campaign posters, as if the grungy shuttle car personally affronted him. "I think we've passed the realm of simple insurance fraud."
"So you're bailing now?" Razia asked with a slight smile. "You're cool when we're shot at, but shipping guns is where you draw the line?"
"You would be surprised how many times I've been shot at in this line of work. People get very protective over their funding streams," Lizbeth laughed. "Besides, I'm not bailing, I'm just doing a pulse check to see if I'm still in my swim lane or if we need to start a joint task force with the Universal Police."
"Really? You want to ask for their help after what they said to you?" Razia asked, as that was the only thing she understood from that entire sentence.
"Why not? I asked for yours after what you said to me?" Lizbeth replied coolly.
"Touché," Razia conceded. "So is that where we're going? Your office?"
"Well, it's past close of business now, and everyone's gone home for the day," Lizbeth said. "So I'll have to go into the office in the morning to deliver the report."
"Yet another day of parking fees for me," Razia sighed, thinking about her ship back on D-882. She didn't even want to think about how much it was going to cost when she finally got back.
"Oh relax!" Lizbeth laughed and stood up. "I'll make sure I submit your expense report tomorrow. In the meantime, you are welcome to come crash on my couch. Free of charge."
CHAPTER NINE
Lyssa woke up the next morning with a crick in her neck from sleeping on Lizbeth's couch. She heard a faraway beeping of an alarm in the other room. She wore a large, old nightshirt of Lizbeth's, and her pirate clothes were tossed haphazardly on the other couch.
Taking advantage of the early morning sunlight, Lyssa looked around the swanky apartment. Much like Lizbeth, it was perfectly put together and just a hint of femininity. Knick-knacks and sculptures sat on wooden shelves on the walls—small details that blended into the decor seamlessly. The floors were spotless, the kitchen gleaming. The only area that seemed out of place was the dining room table, where reams of documents and an open laptop sat. She saw a cup of cold coffee next to the laptop and realized that Lizbeth must have continued working after Lyssa had gone to sleep.
Speaking of coffee…
Lyssa yawned and shuffled to the kitchen. She heard Lizbeth's alarm go off again, but didn't see the other girl stirring, so she set to making the coffee in a sleepy daze. She had half fallen asleep standing next to the coffee pot when Lizbeth's alarm went off for a third time, and she set to finding a couple of cups in the gleaming cabinets.
"Good morning, sunshine," Lyssa said, walking into Lizbeth's bedroom and placing a full cup on the nightstand.
"Go away…want thirty more minutes…" Lizbeth groaned and rolled over. Lyssa was pleased to see that at least she didn't wake up gorgeous.
Ignoring Lizbeth, Lyssa walked over to the closet and flung open the doors. The closet was jam-packed with clothes—some hung up but many others stuffed into shelves and exploding out of bins. On the floor, there were piles and piles of shoes.
"What are you doing?" Lizbeth asked.
"I need something new to wear." Lyssa dug through a pile of clothes and pulled out a black tank top. It was lower cut than she normally wore, but it would do.
"Oh, really? I thought you wore the same thing every day," Lizbeth said, curling up under her sheets.
"Do you have any cargo pants?" Lyssa asked, now sorting through the piles of jeans, slacks, and other different kinds of pants. She pulled out a pair made out of a black stretchy material and pursed her lips.
"Those would look good on you," Lizbeth commented. "You have a nice butt."
Lyssa ignored her comment and went back to searching for anything a little less…clingy, but found everything else too nice or too restricting. Even though she was accompanying Lizbeth to her office, she still needed to look something like Razia.
She took the clothes and a fresh pair of underwear to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The bathroom was as disorganized as the closet, although the counters were covered in different colored eyeshadows, eyeliner pencils, blush, and different tinted skin cremes. There was also a faint smell of Lizbeth's perfume and shampoo, which was a mix of flowers and mint.
Lyssa hopped in the shower, the warm water washing off the remnants of the ore smell that still hung in her nose. Lizbeth had a selection of shampoos, conditioners, and body washes and Lyssa chose the one that smelled the least fruity. After leaving the shower and drying off with the fluffiest towel this side of the Manor, she pulled on the borrowed clothes and wiped the fog off of the mirror.
