CHAPTER 11
I turned around slowly, making sure I was ready to fight if necessary and smile nicely, depending.
There were several men there, including the guy who had his hand on me. They weren’t Herion Military, which was a small blessing. They weren’t anyone I recognized, and they weren’t dressed like any spacers I knew, either. They ranged in age between me and the Governor, and were dressed like businessmen.
“Captain Alexander Napoleon Outland?” the guy with a grip on my shoulder asked. The big guy who had about twenty years, six inches, and a hundred pounds of muscle more than me asked.
“Who wants to know?”
“Herion Business Bureau.”
I took a careful look. They were all in expensive suits. They all looked familiar with money and probably power. What they didn’t look like were business owners. At least, not legitimate business owners.
“You’re representing special interests?”
The man gave me a slow, wide smile. “I like smart boys.” I hoped he meant this in a figurative sense, not that he and his associates wanted to broaden my horizons. Because I had no doubt they’d be able to—they all looked like they’d passed on joining Herion Military only because it didn’t pay as well as organized crime.
“What’s your interest with me?”
He laughed. It was a low laugh that made my private parts want to shrivel up and hide. “Best pilot in the galaxy, who’s also the best smuggler, and he has to ask what our interest is? Smart is good. Coy is not. Coy is for girls. You’re not a girl, are you?”
“No. I like girls. A lot.” I wondered if there was a way I could keep these guys from spotting Slinkie. I figured Audrey could hold her robotic own, but I didn’t want them trying to make time with Slinkie. Having Lionside doing that was more than enough competition.
“So, smart boy who likes girls, why do you think we want to talk to you?”
“Because you can’t get contraband on or off planet because of the pirate armada.” Randolph sounded calm when he said this. “And you want to hire us because we’ve made it through alive.”
The man who still hadn’t released my shoulder gave Randolph a long look. I wondered if we were dead or being set up. I figured both.
“Your friend’s not as stupid as he looks, is he?” he asked finally.
“All my crew’s smart. The question is, is his guess right or do you just like holding onto me?”
He grinned and let go of my shoulder. “He’s right, and if you’re the best smuggler, that means you’re the best at getting away. Didn’t want you trying that right now.”
“No plan to do so.”
“Really? Perhaps you should work on controlling your expression, then.”
“Oh, will do. So, is this about a job?” The men all nodded. “Great. Then I have some rules. First off, I don’t do business with people without names, so if you want to have a discussion, pretend to be polite and introduce yourselves. Second, I have right of refusal. I don’t like your offer or your terms, I say no, we leave if not friends then at least not enemies. Third, if I take your job, then we’ll do your job, but if, as it so often turns out, your job has more complexity to it than you want to tell me about at this stage of the game, I’m going to demand appropriate additional payment. And, so far, I’ve been able to do that successfully each and every time.”
“You’re telling us this beforehand why?”
“I believe in truth in advertising. Last, if you’re really talking a job, you’ll talk about it with me and my business manager.”
“Business manager?”
I gave him a slow, wide smile. “Yeah. In the trades, they call him Janz the Butcher.” I prayed Randolph would keep his mouth shut and his expression neutral.
They exchanged glances. “You know Janz?” The man who’d had his hand on me sounded a lot less sure of himself.
“Very well. He hates rudeness, so, who the hell are you?”
“Beber Zoltan. I’m the head of the Bureau on Herion.” This settled it. All the names on Herion were bizarre.
I nodded. “I’m sure he’ll be impressed. I don’t want to talk business here—we just had an interview with Herion Military and I have to assume they’ll be keeping an eye on us for a while.”
“Where then?” Zoltan asked.
“The Crazy Bear.”
“That’s a nightclub.”
“Right. Still a popular, noisy and crowded nightclub?”
“Yeah.” Zoltan shook his head. “Got your point. What time?”
“Tomorrow night, call it oh-twenty-hours.” They ran on military time on Herion, and had an Earth-like rotation around their sun. It was interesting, how much influence Earth had had on the galaxy. I was from Zyzzx, but I could trace my family lines back to Earth. Great-Aunt Clara had been particularly proud of our heritage. Me, I just had to give it to the folks from Old Earth—they’d spread throughout the galaxy and left their mark on every single planet.
“Fine. No tricks,” Zoltan added.
“Not from our side. We’ll be expecting them from yours.”
He laughed. “I think I like you, Outland.”
“Well, guess we’ll see if this is the start of a beautiful friendship or if you try to betray and kill me and my crew later.”
Zoltan smiled as he and his group turned to leave. “Liking and business don’t always go together.”
“Yeah. Like I said, been there, done that, got the carbon markings.”
He nodded as he walked away. “See you tomorrow night.”
Randolph and I exchanged the “we’re dead” look. “I can’t believe you have us involved with Janz the Butcher.” Randolph sounded like he was wavering between crying or killing himself.
“Or that I know him very well and am going to contact him. I know. You say this every time.” I sighed. “Let’s get back to the others. I need to make an interstellar call.”