CHAPTER 16
“You were part of the infiltration team?” This seemed unbelievable. I took thirty or so years off the Governor. He’d still be ancient.
“You’d be surprised,” he snapped.
“Completely.”
“Suffice to say that part of how I became Janz the Butcher was due to this particular successful infiltration and leave it at that.”
I considered the Butcher’s reputation. He was said to have killed his superior in cold blood because he wanted to take over a galaxy-wide crime syndicate. Did so, and then retreated to the shadows, to become the head spider in the middle of galactic crime’s web. Yeah, that kind of flowery hype sounded like the Governor’s style.
“So, why didn’t you become Lucky Janz or something?”
He shrugged. “I was given the rule of Knaboor, the richest planet in the galaxy. Until that little mishap five years ago, I was Lucky Janz, in that sense.”
I pondered. “You think the Frenchies know you, you personally, are Janz the Butcher?”
“No. I think they’re aware that Governor Murgat no longer rules Knaboor. I was considered a military genius, if you recall.”
“Yeah, yeah. Not so genius that you didn’t get deposed.”
“Correct. I’d assume we’re dealing with, as I said before, Pierre’s offspring. I’m sure he had children all over the galaxy. One or more of them have come of age and decided to take up the family business.”
“Great. Nice to know and all that, but what we need is how to avoid them.”
“Actually, we need to determine how to stop them.”
“I thought we agreed I wasn’t hero material.”
“You aren’t. However, unless you want to be dead or give up seventy-five percent of all cargo, in and out, to the Armada, we have to stop them here. If they control Herion Military, which I’m sure is their initial goal, the rest of the galaxy will be in trouble, and quickly.”
“Why does this sound like heroics will be necessary? Why me?”
“Because I said so.” He said this in his Janz the Butcher voice. I hated that voice, particularly when he was saying things like this. Because when he used it and gave me the “make it so” order, he always meant it. And he was always right.
“So, do we tell the others that Janz has ordered us to play saviors of the galaxy or fake it until we’re surrounded?”
“I’ll think on that. We have at least a day until we’ll be expected to leave.”
“We’ll have ten seconds once we leave this room before one of them asks.”
“Good point.” He was quiet for a couple of minutes. I took that time to contemplate if my original plan—just grab Slinkie and stay in bed for two weeks straight—wasn’t the wiser choice, no matter what. Maybe I could impress her with my knowing Janz the Butcher well enough that I knew what he ate for breakfast. Of course, if I had to tell her what that was, she’d probably guess Janz’s secret identity. Who else ate stewed prunes and watery oatmeal each and every morning? Aside from the Governor, my guess was no one. Back to heroics. I hated heroics. It never paid well and certainly not in terms of the risk to reward ratio.
“I believe we tell them about Pierre’s armada. Leaving out that I was in any way involved, of course.”
“No problem there. I think I’d have a harder time convincing them you were able to do anything active than that Janz wants us playing hero.”
“Hilarious. I can still be active when I choose, Alexander. It’s just rarely worth it.”
“Yeah, I know. You save it up for pleasure princess visits. I’ve heard. From you. Not so much from them.”
“Professional discretion is a wonderful thing.”
“Yeah, because most men don’t want to know they stink in bed.”
“You among them.”
“See, here’s the difference between me and the rest. They all think they’re great in bed. I know I am.”
“It’s that kind of blind belief in yourself that keeps me confident we’ll all survive.”
I chose not to argue with his wording. “Fine. You ready to go face the others with our still total lack of a plan?”
“We have a plan, Alexander. It’s still in the beginning stages, and will need flexibility in order to adapt as the situation changes, but overall, it’s workable.”
I shook my head. “The one thing I never doubt is that you were a career politician. The space droppings flow from your mouth like eggs out of an Aviatus henhouse.”
“One would think you’d have picked up the ability after five years together.”
“I filter it.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“Yeah, it is. Shall we?”
He sighed and stood. We went back to the living room. The others all looked worried. “I have a date,” Slinkie said morosely.
“I’ll take you out tonight and show you what a real date should be, Slink. Then you can pretend you’re out with me again tomorrow.”
“I feel so much better.” Strangely, her tone of voice said otherwise. “What did the Butcher have to say?”
“Half off on sides of beef, this week only.”
“That joke was funny the first time, Nap. When we’re at time five hundred plus, not so hilarious.”
“Everyone’s a critic. Fine. Janz gave me the deal for the Business Bureau. He’s not happy with them, so it’s going to be hefty. I’m not sharing, it’ll stress you all out and you won’t be negotiating with me anyway. Suffice to say the Governor about had a heart attack and leave it at that.”
“Can we get it, is the bigger question.” Randolph sounded worried. “I mean, get it and leave alive. It was some Herion xenophobe who planted the bomb. Apparently, there’s this crackpot group that’s become active since Herion got cut off by that armada. Their goal is to keep everyone planetside, so no one can be lost to the space devils, which is what they’re calling the armada.”
“Possibly because, before us, no one knew it was a space armada.” I thought about this. The group could be local crazies, but they could also be working for Pierre’s people. “Do a further search on the mad bomber, will you Audrey?”
“Right away, Captain.”
“Now, about the armada.” They all looked at us with expressions that said they were paying full attention. “Janz says he knows them, or at least the signature. Pirates from over thirty years ago. The original head man was killed, but the assumption is one of his offspring took over and is now old enough to follow in daddy’s effective but strangely named footsteps.”
“What’s the name?” Slinkie asked.
“Pierre de Chance and the Chatouilleux Français Armada.”
I waited for them to all do the translations. Unsurprisingly, Audrey translated first. What was surprising was that she laughed. Like a human. Randolph had done a really good job. I was starting to be impressed.
Slinkie translated second and, like Audrey, started to howl with laughter. “And they think that’s a scary name?”
“No, but apparently it was effective.”
“At preventing pregnancy while increasing satisfaction, sure.” Slinkie was still laughing. “But at scaring the general populace?”
Randolph translated, finally. Machines, computers and anything related to them were his forté. Languages, not so much. He blushed bright red. “I think that’s a really stupid name.” Of course, he didn’t like that we called the Sixty-Nine the Sixty-Nine, either. There were times I really worried about him. I looked at Audrey. Check that—there were now no times I wasn’t going to be worried about him.
“So anyway, Janz figures Pierre, Junior, or similar, is now flying the not-so-friendly solar skies. They only stopped Pierre the First before by infiltrating and blowing his brains out, up close and personal. I’d love to avoid doing that. However, Janz also feels we need to stop Pierre here, before he’s able to conscript Herion Military.”
The laughter stopped. “Did I hear you right?” Randolph asked slowly. “Janz the Butcher wants us to stop this armada? He didn’t tell you how to get away, he told you to take them down?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Silence filled the room. Slinkie finally broke it. “Dear Feathered Lord—we’re all going to die.”