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CHAPTER 22

Herion Military HQ was an imposing, box-like complex made out of steel. Reinforced steel, so far as anyone had been able to confirm.

Despite Slinkie and the Governor’s protests, in fact, despite Lionside’s protests, Nitin had cuffed my hands behind my back and shoved me into a military ’floater, between two Herion Military who made the goons I’d already dealt with seem small.

They were reasonably careful with me, at least until we were inside the military complex. Then a bag was put over my head, I was taken into an interrogation room, the bag was removed as I was flung into the chair that was the only thing in the room, other than one light in the ceiling, and left.

I looked for the hidden cameras. That there would be hidden cameras was a given. They wanted something from me, that was also a given. Whether I’d be allowed to live once they got it was not a given.

Took a very good, long look. If there were cameras in here, they were amazingly well camouflaged. The walls were all concrete, so was the ceiling and floor, and the one light didn’t seem to have much in it that would function as a camera. I still figured there was something in here, watching me—just something I couldn’t spot. Which meant it was probably cloaked.

I tried not to dwell on how close I’d come to getting a willing wet one from Slinkie. I needed to think about how to get out of here alive, not focus on what kissing Slinkie might be like. The last thing I needed was someone thinking I was aroused by being here.

The door opened and Nitin walked in. He was alone. He shut the door, walked over, and stood in front of me, just out of kicking range. “We need your cooperation, Captain Outland.”

“Take the cuffs of me, Nitin. I don’t cooperate well tied up.”

“The rumors are you can’t be employed but can be hired. You’re a mercenary, a pirate. And the favorite of Janz the Butcher.”

“What’s your point?”

“I want you off Herion. Tonight.”

“Works for me. Let me out of here, give me my crew back, unharmed, ensure my ship isn’t rigged or bugged, happy as hell to leave.”

“Really? With that dangerous pirate armada out there?” Nitin sneered. He was pretty good at it.

“Made it away from them once. Odds on my doing it again have to be better than my odds of a happy life behind Herion bars.”

“We’d prefer that you not… escape.”

“Let me go, I’ll tell everyone we’re leaving ’cause it stinks here. Whatever.”

“I mean, we’d prefer that you not escape from the pirate armada.”

I let that one sink in for a few moments. “So, what, you want me to allow myself to be captured? Uh, sure. Fine. Let me go, no problem, happy to, and so forth.”

Nitin shook his head. “Please. No one is that stupid. We want you to allow yourself to be captured, you and your ship.”

“You’re crazy. Why would I do that? It’s suicide, they’ll just kill me.”

“Doubtful. You’re too good a pilot. De Chance will want you to fly for him. Make a deal, whatever he wants. With tracking on your ship, we’ll be able to capture the armada and save our solar system.”

“You’re smoking Knaboor Gold. Not going to happen.”

He gave me an unpleasant smile. “Oh, it’ll happen. And to ensure that you do what we want? We’ll be keeping something you care about.”

The door opened and two Herion Military goons dragged Slinkie in. She was tied up and gagged, but still fighting. One of them pulled the gag off her. “Captain! Don’t do it!” She was going to say more, but one grabbed her head and the other shoved the gag back into her mouth. She still managed to bite him. I loved that woman.

They dragged her back out. Nitin turned back to me. “Now, if you want to see her again, you’ll cooperate. If not… well… she is a lovely thing, isn’t she? I don’t think I’ll let Bryant know she’s here—he seems so enamored of her. And I’m sure she’ll enjoy spending private time with me.”

That did it. I leaped up and head butted him right in the gut. He went back, doubled over, and I shoulder slammed him. As I’d noted before, he wasn’t as big as the rest of Herion Military. He wasn’t much bigger than me, really. And I was both furious and fighting for my life.

Nitin was on his knees. I kicked his jaw. His head went back and into the wall. He went down, slumped and bleeding a little. Not bleeding enough, but he was out.

If someone was watching, they’d be here fast. No time like the present. I slid my cuff-pick out of my sleeve, fiddled around behind my back for a few seconds, undid the cuffs, pulled Nitin’s arms behind his back and cuffed him. Like all of Herion Military, he was in a gray uniform, well-fitted, but the pants had pockets on the sides of the thighs, and the jackets had plenty of inner pockets. Searched all of them—he had a lot of interesting things, all of which I took. His keys were what I really wanted, and, naturally, I found them in the last pocket, on his left leg.

Unbuckled his shoulder holster and gun belt, put them both on. They’d taken my laser, but he had it on him, hooked in the back of his pants. Took that back.

Took Nitin’s little cloth officer’s cap off and shoved it into his mouth. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it might help a bit. Pulled his jacket off—the sleeves hooked onto the handcuffs. Flipped the main part of the jacket between his legs and the ends of the jacket back behind him, like he was in a huge diaper. I could only hook a few of the buttons through buttonholes, but it would slow him down whenever he gained consciousness.

Spotted something inside his shirt and I ripped it open. Money belt, or similar, was strapped around him. Took it. Decided he was too well trussed up to undo it and search his pants. Besides, I didn’t want to stick my hands down any man’s pants, let alone his.

He had a tattoo over his right pectoral—it looked like a flying Ebegorn—a bird with a wild mop of multi-colored feathers on the top of its head. Their nickname was the clown bird. I had more facts about them stored away, but decided to pull them up later—fly with an Aviatian, learn all the birds of the galaxy, basically. Not mine to reason why, but it seemed like something Herion Military wouldn’t approve of. However, I had bigger issues than Nitin’s odd choices in permanent ink.

Not for the first time I wished I’d let Randolph hook us all up with comlinks. Of course, my reason for not doing so was simple—our first usage of a comlink set up had contributed to Saladine’s death.

Didn’t dwell, didn’t have time. I needed to find Slinkie, figure out what they’d done to and with the others, and get us the hell out of Herion.

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Framed