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    Poisoned Pawn
    Poisoned Pawn
    Poisoned Pawn
    Ebook369 pages4 hours

    Poisoned Pawn

    By Jaleta Clegg

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    About this ebook

    Everyone wants Dace. Commander Lowell wants her in the Patrol. The Targon Syndicate wants her head. But when she's kidnapped, it's by mistake. She isn't the one Luke wanted. If he finds out she isn't Miya Daviessbrowun, he won't hesitate to kill her. It's up to Jasyn to rescue her, even if it means giving in to Lowell's demands.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJaleta Clegg
    Release dateOct 25, 2016
    ISBN9781370715442
    Poisoned Pawn
    Author

    Jaleta Clegg

    I love telling stories ranging from epic space opera to silly horror to anything in between. I've had numerous stories published in anthologies and magazines. Find all the details of my space opera series at http://www.altairanempire.comFor the latest updates on my stories, check out my webpage at http://www.jaletac.comMy current day job involves teaching kids to play the piano. I also love piecing quilts together, crocheting tiny animals, and watching lots of bad 80s movies.

    Read more from Jaleta Clegg

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      Book preview

      Poisoned Pawn - Jaleta Clegg

      Chapter 1

      Lowell thumped his feet on the desk and leaned back in the chair. He held a handcomp in one hand, the screen set on the station data feed, but he wasn’t paying attention to it. He watched the busy Patrol docking bay through the wide window in the office. Several ships had docked in the last hour, three courier class and one large hunter class. He rubbed his upper lip as he considered his options.

      An aide opened the office door. He frowned when he caught sight of Lowell. You are going to have to leave. We have a visiting commander who requested this office. You shouldn’t be here when you’re off duty, anyway. The enlisted lounge is on deck seven. The man planted himself in the middle of the office.

      I’m well aware of the location of the lounge, but my rank tends to make the enlisted men nervous.

      The aide’s gaze flicked over Lowell’s plain black uniform. You aren’t wearing any insignia.

      Would it make you feel better if I borrowed a set of Admiral’s pins? Lowell’s handcomp beeped. He glanced at the new message. He raised one eyebrow as he shifted his feet from the desk. That’s going to cause a few problems.

      A Commander Lowell requested use of this office. The aide wasn’t giving up.

      And you are bothering him.

      Sir?

      The ship that just docked, escort the pilot to this office. His name is Trevyn Clark.

      The aide shifted his feet, uncertain.

      Lowell tapped his com, impatient with the man. Paltronis, please escort Major Trevyn Clark to the office. He just arrived on the station. And please remove the man who doesn’t believe me when I tell him I’m the Commander who requested use of the office.

      If you wore your rank pins, this wouldn’t happen, sir. The woman on the com sounded amused.

      Worse would happen. Lowell fixed the aide with a steady gaze that had unnerved fleet admirals.

      I’ll have Major Clark in the office in a few moments, sir. Paltronis signed off.

      The aide dripped nervous sweat. Sorry, sir. It’s easy to mistake you in that uniform. Station Commander Morgan sent me to assist you with whatever you need, sir.

      Lowell turned his attention back to the handcomp. Then fetch me a sandwich. And something to drink.

      The aide saluted, clicking his heels before he marched out of the office.

      Lowell tapped the screen, calling up more information. Too many pieces in this game, too many possibilities. It was time to make an offensive move, time to bring the pieces into the same sector and into the same game.

      Paltronis tapped on the door before she opened it. She was Lowell's bodyguard, by his own choice. She was short, stocky, blond, and very dangerous. She knew seven ways to kill someone using just her pinky finger. So far, Lowell hadn’t needed that particular skill of hers. She waved in the man behind her, then excused herself from the office. She wouldn’t be far, if Lowell needed her.

      Lowell set the handcomp on the desk. He leaned back in the chair, turning his full attention on Major Clark.

      Clark wore Patrol silver with pilot’s comets on his collar. You sent for me, sir?

      Lowell studied the man’s open face and green eyes. Would he be able to keep a secret? Would it matter? More important, would he be able to keep Dace safe and steer her where Lowell needed her to go? Tayvis had failed in that mission. Maybe a stranger was a better choice.

      I have an assignment for you, Major. It’s completely voluntary. Have a seat.

      Clark sat like the chair was lined with razor blades. If I say no?

      No penalties. You finish your tour of duty at your current post, piloting a messenger ship. Have you ever considered working undercover? The handcomp beeped. Lowell silenced it without looking.

      Clark shook his head. I’m just a pilot, sir.

      With some interesting weapons ratings and computer skills. This isn’t dangerous, Major. It involves piloting a merchant ship; and pretending you aren’t, and never were, Patrol. That’s all.

      I’ll have to pass, sir. Flying a merchant ship is not a problem, but why pretend I’m not Patrol? You say it isn’t dangerous, which immediately suggests it is.

      Lowell chuckled. Clark wasn’t stupid or Lowell would have never considered him for the job. He just needed convinced. Lowell pulled up a picture on his handcomp then slid the device across the desk to Clark.

      Who is she? Clark studied the woman’s face.

      Arramiya Daviessbrowun, daughter of a very wealthy, very reclusive businessman in Cygnus Sector.

      What does she have to do with a merchant ship? Am I supposed to escort her somewhere, act as a bodyguard? Clark set the handcomp back on the desk.

      She’s a target because of her father’s dealings, but she isn’t the one I’m interested in. No, that would be Dace. Lowell switched the picture.

      Clark glanced at the screen when Lowell slid it his way. Same woman, different haircut and outfit.

      Lowell leaned forward. Different woman. Dace is a merchant captain currently in desperate need of a pilot. I need her in Cygnus Sector. And I need her kept safe. Targon Syndicate posted a reward for her head last week. Fifty thousand credits.

      Clark whistled. What did she do, assassinate one of the Five?

      As far as I can figure, she provided information that dismantled one of their money laundering businesses, but we had most of that already. I’m not sure why Targon wants her so badly.

      But you want her worse. Is she an agent?

      Not yet. But that’s my job to persuade her to join up. I want you to keep her safe and get her to Cygnus Sector in one piece so I can. Targon’s influence doesn’t reach that far.

      What does the businessman’s daughter have to do with her?

      Lowell tilted his head, silver eyes studying Clark. The Major was sharp, maybe too sharp. I want Dace seen, maybe mistaken for Arramiya. Just enough to flush out the ones I’m looking for. Trust me, Major Clark. Your job will be to pilot the Phoenix Rising and keep an eye on Dace, that’s all. Leave the syndicates to me.

      Clark met his gaze, steady and even. Why pretend I’m not Patrol?

      Because Dace won’t hire you if she suspected you were Patrol. She’d sit here and rot before she’ll have anything to do with the Patrol. I’ve got a full cover story ready, if you accept the job. Lowell retrieved a folder from the desk, sliding it towards Clark.

      Clark tapped his fingers on the folder. How long? My tour is up in three months.

      A few weeks, maybe a month or two. Just long enough for me to convince Targon she isn’t worth their time. Like I said, I want her seen and mistaken for Miss Daviessbrowun. That’s all.

      How do I get her to Cygnus Sector? Clark opened the folder, glancing through the printouts inside.

      She has a cargo for Dru’Ott. It shouldn’t be hard to get her moving the right direction from there. Dru’Ott has very limited trading contacts.

      What about the rest of the crew? Don’t merchant ships have cargomasters and others that have more influence than a pilot would?

      Very sharp, Lowell thought approvingly. It’s a small ship, minimum crew of three. Dace is the other pilot. Jasyn is her navigator. With only three on the ship, you’ll have plenty of influence. If nothing else, let it slip that Targon is after her and Cygnus is beyond their reach. That should get her where I want her.

      Clark set the folder on the desk. He shook his head.

      Before you refuse, Major, the job pays twice your normal pay grade.

      And it isn’t dangerous?

      Lowell sighed. It shouldn’t be, but where Dace is concerned, I can’t promise anything.

      Clark grinned. She was all over the news on Tebros a couple months ago. I’m not sure I want involved.

      Sharp enough to cut himself. Lowell pushed the folder into Clark’s hands. Think it over and give me your answer tomorrow morning.

      Double pay and hazard bonus if it does turn dangerous.

      Is that a yes?

      Unless I find something in the folder, yes, sir. You have an interesting reputation, Commander Lowell.

      It’s a straightforward mission, Major.

      So you say. I want our agreement in writing.

      I’ll have it ready for your signature in the morning.

      Thank you, sir.

      Lowell tugged his lip as he watched Major Clark leave the office. Maybe Clark wasn’t the best choice.

      His handcomp beeped. He flicked a glance at the blinking urgent light. He tapped the screen, bringing up the text. Then swore under his breath. He called Paltronis on his com.

      Sir?

      Dace got herself arrested. The stationmaster wants to throw the book at her. Go convince him that letting her leave will be his safest course of action. After she hires the pilot I’m sending her way, of course.

      Yes, sir.

      Lowell rubbed a hand through his silver hair. Clark had better be sharp. Dace was already messing up Lowell’s plans and she hadn’t even left Viya Station yet.

      Paltronis?

      Sir?

      Any word on Tayvis’ whereabouts?

      Planetary Survey has him assigned to a population survey in Cygnus Sector. They wouldn’t say which planet. They stated very clearly that Planetary Survey is not under the authority of the Patrol Enforcers. They also told me where you could shove your rank, but I don’t think you want to hear that. Planetary Survey Command is still upset over the last time they helped you with an investigation.

      I’ll apologize, again, if you think it might do any good. Send me all the information about their survey. Did you get the personnel files for Cygnus Sector?

      Flagged, tagged, and sent, sir, along with everything I could get about Daviessbrowun’s business interests.

      What would I do without you, Paltronis?

      You’d find someone else. Do you want me to go intimidate the stationmaster now?

      Please.

      She disconnected the line.

      Lowell propped his feet on the desk, watching the bustling docking bay through the wide window. Too many pieces, too many different games, and too many wild cards loose. But that’s what made it fun.

      Chapter 2

      I sat in the cell on Viya Station and fumed. The last time I’d been on Viya, I’d left a trail of destruction and almost started a war with the Sessimoniss. Most of it hadn’t been my fault, but the station authorities still held it against me. I wouldn’t have come but the only cargo we could get on Tebros was for Viya. The pilot we’d hired, because regulations insisted on two, had gotten into a nasty brawl in the worst bar on Viya. When the authorities showed up, they arrested me. My pilot ducked out and disappeared. If she ever showed her face at the ship again, she wasn’t getting back on. Her contract was void.

      I kicked the wall a few times out of frustration. The guard yelled at me to quit or be fined even more. I quit.

      Another long hour passed.

      The guard appeared, keys jangling. He opened the door and waved me out. You made bail. Don’t come back. He gave me a look that promised lots of pain if I did.

      I’m not planning on it.

      Jasyn waited in the foyer area, tapping her foot impatiently, but still gorgeous even though I knew she hadn’t had any sleep for almost two days. Next to her I was short, dumpy, and mussed. She didn’t do it on purpose, she was just so naturally beautiful that I couldn’t compete.

      We’re broke now, Jasyn said as we approached the airlock of the ship. We have barely enough to pay docking fees, if we leave in the next few hours. It’s a good thing the cargo I managed to find is pay on delivery. No deposit. What were you thinking?

      I was getting Letha back, I said, slapping the controls for the hatch.

      So where is she?

      I’d like to know myself. We stepped through the hatch.

      What happened, Dace? She turned to face me, dropping paperwork on the small galley table. You’ve got a black eye.

      Letha was in a bar, drunk and starting fights. I tried to stop her. I touched my cheek by my eye and winced.

      You were the only one they arrested. She rummaged in the locker behind her for the small med kit. We had a more complete medical bay in the back cabin, one I hoped we would never have to use. With my luck, I’d spend more time in it than out, I thought sourly. Jasyn put the kit on the table. I’m the one who’s supposed to get in fights with men who don’t understand no. Her voice was gentle, taking the sting out of her words but not out of the antiseptic she dabbed on my cheek.

      Letha wasn’t saying no, either, which is where the problem started.

      I take it we’re short one pilot?

      I nodded while she put the kit away. You get to hire the next one. I’ve had lousy luck.

      Not luck, you just make bad choices. She tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the table. They were a light pink that contrasted nicely with the green of our ship uniforms. She had a golden zigzag on her left thumbnail, to go with the patches on our sleeves, a phoenix burning. The station wants us gone in less than three hours. That was part of the deal to let you out. We have cargo to collect and a pilot to find.

      You go find one, I’ll get the cargo.

      I don’t think so. You’d start a riot just walking across the station. You go hire a pilot. The hiring office is right across the dock. How much trouble can you get in? Never mind, don’t answer. I don’t want to know.

      You trust me to choose a good one?

      Eventually you’ll have to. The odds are against everyone you pick being trouble.

      They have been so far.

      Then change it. Go. She shooed me out the hatch.

      I went grumbling, determined to hire only the best pilot.

      There was only one name, one pilot available for hire. I asked to talk to him anyway. I was told that he had just been hired. I closed my eyes, shutting out the smug receptionist in the hiring office and the dirty green walls with their posters and job postings, and counted to ten very slowly. It was my latest attempt to gain control. It didn’t help, but at least I didn’t scream. I turned to leave, wondering why I tried.

      You looking for a pilot? a man said, hurrying up behind me.

      I stopped and turned to look at him.

      He wouldn’t have stood out in a crowd. He was average height, his hair a sandy blond, longer than most spacers wore it. He wore a gray shipsuit, no ship patch, only a pair of tarnished pilot stars on his collar.

      Do I pass inspection? he asked, green eyes dancing, mouth quirked in a grin. He lifted his arms and turned around.

      I need a pilot, not a clown. I pushed the door open.

      I’m a pilot, he said, more serious. I heard you were hiring.

      I stopped and turned back around, letting the door shut. Then let’s go talk. You’ve got to be the only one left on the entire station.

      We went to one of the small interview rooms. I sat on one side of the rickety table in a chair that had seen much better days. A very long time ago, I thought as I shifted off a loose spring. The man sat across from me, pulling out a packet of papers. He put them on the table between us, flipping them open. His pilot certification was on top. I picked it up. According to it, his name was Trevyn Clark. He’d been a pilot for seven years. His ratings covered a ship the size of the Phoenix. I put the paper down and looked at him.

      Why are you looking for work here? I asked. What happened to your last job?

      He pulled a paper out of the stack and flipped it at me. Last five berths. I’m stuck here because the ship I was on was being delivered to her regular crew here. They needed a pilot to fly it.

      And before that? I watched his face, looking for lies.

      I flew three jumps on a Terellian ship. One pilot had just gotten married and moved in with his wife’s family. Their other pilot was still finishing school. They never let me in the cockpit.

      That one made sense. Regulations required a certain number of pilots, depending on the ship’s size and rating. Terellian ships were huge things, trading ships that carried generations of the same family. If you weren’t family, you weren’t crew. They married only with other trading families. I hadn’t run into them much, I’d never been to the territories they usually worked. There wasn’t room for independent traders who weren’t part of the family, so I’d stayed away. No profit in it for me.

      How far back do you want me to go? Trevyn Clark asked. I’ve had a run of bad luck finding a solid berth.

      I looked down his list. And stopped. I recognized a name. What happened on the Iniori Matsura?

      He raised his eyebrows. I was on the ship two months. I filed charges against Captain Calligan. For harassment. His mouth pinched with anger. Whether it was over the situation back then or my asking about it, I didn’t know.

      I knew Isidora Calligan. I’d flown as a cadet on her ship a few times. Her predation of male pilots was well known even though the rest of the crew tried to keep it quiet.

      I won’t ask about any of the rest, I said. You wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t really flown with her.

      You don’t trust my credentials? He still didn’t look very happy.

      I’ve had bad luck in the past. I leaned forward on the table. What are you looking for?

      What are you offering?

      I need a pilot. I’m desperate now, yes. Viya won’t let me go without one, but they want me gone within, I glanced at the time display on the wall, two hours.

      A grin spread over his face, his eyes greedy. I could take you to the cleaners.

      And I’d break both your legs. My grin was just as steady.

      He threw back his head, laughing and slapping his leg. Who else is on your crew?

      The navigator.

      Plenty of overtime. This could be good.

      You get passage to wherever it is we’re going. And maybe some bonus, if we manage to turn a profit on our cargo. Then we talk about a possible contract. If I still like you when we get there.

      Hard bargain, he said, still leaning back. What if I don’t accept?

      Then we both get to sit here and rot. Take it or leave it. I stood.

      There aren’t any other pilots. Even the ones that are available won’t fly with you. I’ve heard stories. You’re a legend on the station.

      Not a good one. Is there a point to this?

      Beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll take it.

      I was suddenly very suspicious. Are you running from something? Outstanding warrants? Bloodthirsty pirates? Smuggling partners who want your head? An entire sentient species? What am I missing here?

      From the stories, you’re the one with the price on your head. I’m just down on my luck. He was still lounging back, looking at ease.

      Who wants my head now? I couldn’t help asking. Curiosity runs my mouth sometimes without any help or guidance from my brain.

      The former owners of Belliff.

      How do you know that? Cold prickles ran up and down my spine.

      Public record what you did. Anyone with half a brain knows Belliff management got away, at least the ones with the power. You ruined their entire operation. It makes sense they’d be gunning for you.

      Are you this way with all your potential employers?

      Are you this suspicious of everyone?

      Yes.

      His grin disappeared, wiped clean. He studied me from green eyes as hard as stone. He finally blinked. Passing on a warning, Captain Dace. From a friend in station security.

      I wasn’t aware I had one. Warnings coming from the Patrol would be suspect. Especially ones from a certain Commander Grant Lowell. He’d been trying to recruit me to work undercover in his top secret organization since I’d gotten mixed up in a nasty piece of business on Dadilan. He’d even sent Tayvis after me. It still hurt to think about that. My relationship with the Patrol Enforcer Malcolm Tayvis was complicated, to say the least.

      His name’s Darl. He said to remind you of Professor Commandant Ludviga. Whatever that means. Trevyn Clark studied my face. His was cold and hard.

      My mouth twitched. Darl was an old classmate from the Academy. Darl made it into station security, then. Good for him. He’d been dock supervisor the last time I was here.

      He sent me here from the brig, Trevyn Clark admitted. Told me you would need a pilot. Seems yours skipped station, leaving you in trouble. He did it as a favor to me and you. Or so he said.

      What were you doing in the brig?

      I wasn’t arrested, if that’s what you’re asking. He folded his arms across his chest. Are you hiring me or not?

      Do I have a choice? I ran a hand through my hair. Get your gear. The ship’s right across the dock.

      Don’t I have to sign papers?

      I muttered a curse. I hate paperwork. I sat back down and punched up the proper screen.

      Captain Dace of the Phoenix Rising, I said at it. The proper blanks filled in. Hiring Trevyn Clark as pilot, temporary status. Contract—confidential agreement. I jabbed my thumb onto the pad for recording prints.

      Trevyn Clark, accepting employment as stated, he confirmed and added his thumbprint.

      The computer beeped and clicked. Two copies of our agreement slid out of the slot. I dropped in the proper amount of credits, the last two in my pocket. Welcome aboard, Trevyn. I couldn’t keep the irony out of my voice.

      He took my hand, his was firm and a bit cool. It’s Clark, if you don’t mind. He let go. Do you prefer Captain or Ma’am?

      Don’t push your luck. I’ll take you to the ship, before I file the rest of the papers.

      He followed me out of the interview room. I paused by the outer door of the hiring office, watching him. He talked to the receptionist, the same one who’d barely been civil to me. She laughed and flirted with Clark. He collected a duffel from her then crossed the room.

      Waiting for me, Captain?

      Saves time. I stalked away, towards the welcoming door of my ship, through the tangles of cables and cargo that littered the wide docking bay. I wondered what Jasyn would have to say about the pilot I’d hired. I wondered what he’d have to say about her. I wondered just what Darl had said about me. I wondered if the smugglers that backed Belliff would really hunt me down. I wondered how far I’d have to go to get away from them. I wondered if the nagging voice in my head would ever shut up and leave me alone.

      Chapter 3

      Clark looked around the ship and whistled. Nice ship.

      She was. I was very proud of the job we’d done refitting her. The third cabin is free. You can have the end one if you prefer, but it’s got a med unit in it.

      This one’s fine, he said and went in the third one.

      Jasyn had done the cabins and lounge area. The hatch, which doubled as an airlock, opened into the lounge. Towards the front of the ship was the cockpit, with a door that could be closed. The cockpit held four people, two pilots, a navigator, and a com tech who also ran scanners. It was small enough that one person could reach all the controls from one chair, though. The seating area between the hatch and the cockpit had cushions in a green striped print Jasyn had made. I knew how to sew, I’d been forced to learn in the orphanage where I grew up, but until I’d watched Jasyn, I’d never believed it would ever be useful or enjoyable to do it. She’d painted the storage lockers above and behind the benches in a soft cream. She planned to add flowers sometime.

      To the rear of the room was a small galley, an actual cooking area. Most small ships had the dispenser unit that took freeze dried foods, added water, and heated them up, producing sludge that was barely edible. Jasyn liked to cook. I liked to eat. Both of us had felt the money spent on real cooking equipment was well worth every credit. The center of the room held a table with four chairs bolted to the floor around it. The cushions on them, courtesy of Jasyn again, were a darker green. The floor was covered with a fibermat carpet, guaranteed to withstand the wear, dark brown with a pattern of leaves subtly woven in with lighter browns.

      Behind the galley were two doors. One led down into the engine access areas. The other led up into a small cargo bay, fully heated and pressurized, lined with individual bins that locked. Behind that were two more cargo bays, large ones, that were vacuum in flight and unheated. The small cargo bay was mostly empty. I’d made a few speculative purchases that might pay off someday, mostly spices from vendors on Tebros.

      There were four cabins across the lounge area. My cabin was directly behind the cockpit, Jasyn had the one next to that. There were enough bunks for a crew of twelve, stacked two deep in our cabins, two sets of four crammed in the other two cabins. Our ship was comfortable, pleasant, though small.

      I’d overhauled the engines and controls. Jasyn and I were justifiably proud of the ship we’d put together from a broken down hulk.

      I went forward to the cockpit and called up Viya Control.

      Phoenix, this is Viya Station, a prim voice answered.

      I’m filing flight plans. We want a departure window within the hour.

      We have a hold on your ship, please wait. The prim voice was replaced with soft static.

      I drummed my fingers on the control panel, waiting. Preflight checks were going to take us most of that hour, I hoped we’d still be able to get it.

      Your ship is denied undocking, the prim voice came back.

      Why?

      A pilot registered to your ship is in custody. You have to resolve the problem, and pay fines.

      If her name is Letha Toomis, she broke contract. She isn’t crew anymore. I hired a new pilot about ten minutes ago.

      One moment, please. The voice went away again.

      Clark came into the cockpit, sliding into the copilot’s chair with a grace that spoke of lots of experience in small ships. He ran his hands expertly down the rows of switches and sliders. I saw his hands pause by the engine power controls. Those were overpowered. I wanted extra speed if I needed it. He shot me one unreadable glance then moved on. I listened to static and waited for him to find the scanning equipment. Half of it wasn’t available, usually, to non-Patrol ships. I’d found it, curiously enough, in a second hand shop. I suspected someone in the Patrol, that I knew and wished I didn’t, had put it there just so I could buy it. He knew I couldn’t resist it.

      I’m sorry, the voice said in my ear. You’ll have to come to Station Administration.

      But—

      She cut me off. I bit back the nasty words I wanted to say.

      Trouble? Clark asked.

      Unfortunately, yes. I got out of the chair. "When Jasyn gets back, tell her I had to go talk to Admin. She’s tall, dark

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