The planetary con stella.., p.1
The Planetary Con (Stellar Outlaw Book 2), page 1
THE PLANETARY CON – STELLAR OUTLAW BOOK 2
Copyright © 2020 by Eric C. Warren All rights reserved.
Book design and SCAS logo are trademarks of Eric Warren Author, LLC.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means electronic, mechanical, printing, photocopying, recording, chiseling into stone, or otherwise, without the written permission from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. For information regarding permission contact the publisher.
Editor: Tiffany Shand www.eclipseediting.com
Cover Design: Elias T. Stern
ISBN 979-8-6709-3266-0
Contents
Also by Eric Warren
Quote
1. Sing
2. Old Friends
3. Mess
4. Systems
5. Suspicion
6. Dues
7. Fishing
8. Steelhand Sam
9. NPCs
10. Galactic Peace
11. Comms
12. Ten
13. Ghosts
14. Wagers
15. Contraband
16. Omnigynox
17. Bad Luck
18. Alpha and Beta
19. Objections
20. Inflicted Damage
21. Landing
22. Little Resistance
23. Entara
24. The Right
25. Happy
26. Commitment
27. Blind Corners
28. Lead Gregaran
29. Alignment
30. Set to Zero
31. Medication
32. Thinking Straight
33. Confidence
34. Entanglement
35. Trust
36. Teambuilding
37. Hurk
38. Circumstances
39. Dreams
40. Aloo Gobi
Stellar Outlaw 3: The Galactic Blind Preview
Glossary
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Establishment Protocol
Also by Eric Warren
The Sovereign Coalition Universe
STELLAR OUTLAW SERIES
Novels
A NEBULOUS CRIME (BOOK 1)
THE PLANETARY CON (BOOK 2)
THE GALACTIC BLIND (BOOK 3)
Short Stories
ESTABLISHMENT PROTOCOL
INFINITY’S END SAGA
Novels
CASPIAN’S FORTUNE (BOOK 1)
TEMPEST RISING (BOOK 2)
DARKEST REACH (BOOK 3)
JOURNEY’S EDGE (BOOK 4)
SECRETS PAST (BOOK 5)
PLANETFALL (BOOK 6)
BROKEN LINKS (BOOK 7)
MEMORY’S BLADE (BOOK 8)
INFINITY’S END (BOOK 9)
Short Stories
CASPIAN’S GAMBIT: An Infinity’s End Story
SOON’S FOLLY: An Infinity’s End Story
“There is a point at which the law becomes immoral and unethical. That point is reached when it becomes a cloak for the cowardice that dares not stand up against blatant violations of justice.”
- Kurt Huber
1
Sing
Everywhere he looked, Devren Tenebris saw a crime being committed. If it wasn’t the pair of Regulans in the alley, handing off illicit goods when they thought no one could see, it was the Burngali sitting on the steps of the nearest building, smoking a karf, an illegal substance in all the territories of the Commonwealth. It was known to wear away at the brain like a sander going over a piece of wood until there was little to nothing left. But then again, why would the Commonwealth care about crimes being committed—it wasn’t as if they enforced the rules they’d set up for their citizens.
Dev took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, then continued walking down through the open-air marketplace. He had to remember, he wasn’t here in any official capacity, nor as an officer of the much-hated Sovereign Coalition. He was here as a representative of the transport ship Mettle, Captain Traxia Harth commanding. Dev had been a “crew member” on the Mettle for close to a season—almost two months in Commonwealth time. His original mission had taken him deep into Commonwealth space, which meant a long haul on a cramped ship. But in the end, it had all been worth it. They’d managed to find the man he was looking for—Nolan Mit’shuna, a brilliant Coalition scientist and engineer who had defected a little over a year ago, fleeing to the Commonwealth to build his personal wealth and complete the scientific projects the Coalition had shut down. But now Nolan and his associates were imprisoned on the Mettle with no way out. Once their job was done here, Dev would get back up to the ship and begin the interrogations again. Eventually Nolan would tell him everything, and then this could finally be over.
The planet’s twin suns bore down on the surface like two giant spotlights. It was fortunate the marketplace was covered, otherwise he might need some protective gear just to walk around. But other than the ambient heat, Cataal was quite comfortable. A cool breeze moved through the market, rustling the stands and flags on each stall, pushing the smells of the food vendors ahead past his nose. Some of the smells he couldn’t help but appreciate; a smoky-sweet smell filled his nostrils before being replaced by a pungent odor that caught him off guard and almost caused him to cough. One thing about the Commonwealth: it was eclectic.
Dev checked the comm on his arm, going over the address again. He couldn’t be far, but none of these stalls looked permanent. Which meant the one he was looking for could have been moved or even have already packed up for the day. Why couldn’t Rep have given him a better quandary? No doubt the kid kept the easiest ones for himself. For that matter, Dev shouldn’t even be down here. He should be strategizing about how he was going to get Nolan to talk after a week of nothing despite being cooped up in the same ship together. The man was like a steel wall—unflinching and unforgiving. But two could play that game. Dev was nothing if not patient. He didn’t spend a year tracking Nolan, go through hell to finally reach him and take him into custody to give up now. If Nolan thought he could outlast Dev, he was sorely mistaken.
Shouts, in a language Dev didn’t recognize, startled him out of his thoughts as a pack of young Karkurian children ran past him. Dev smiled, perhaps not everything in the Commonwealth was corrupt. More than likely those children would grow up to involve themselves in the same kinds of nefarious activities that kept the Commonwealth running; whether it was money laundering, slave trading or outright murdering their enemies. This place was devoid of justice, and Dev was looking forward to returning home.
As the children ran through the stalls, one peeled off from the others, and ducking down past the edge of one of the food booths, plucked an alien fruit from the merchant’s stall. It was under his thin shirt in less than a second. He hadn’t even made eye-contact with the merchant manning the stall—but he’d been so quick anyone could have missed it. Dev picked up the pace and within a few seconds was up behind the small boy. He grabbed him by the back of the neck as the child cried out. Everyone, merchants, shoppers, on-lookers, turned to see the commotion. The boy wriggled in Dev’s grasp, but if there was one thing he knew about Karkurians it was they had a soft spot on the back of their necks which could be very painful if held in just the right way. Dev wasn’t trying to hurt the kid, but he managed to keep him from flailing so much he’d be hit in the face by an errant limb.
Dev marched the boy back over to the merchant. “I believe he has something of yours,” Dev said, using his built-in translator in his comm.
“Oh?” the merchant eyed the boy.
“I have nothing!” The kid kicked out to wrench himself from Dev’s grip, but Dev held on tight. “Let me be!”
“Return the item, or this will become painful,” Dev said.
The kid stopped thrashing and reached under his shirt, pitching the piece of food back at the merchant, who barely caught it in time. “Happy?” Dev expected some form of gratitude from the merchant, but the man just replaced the food and turned his back to them. Dev’s face fell. “Are you going to let me go?”
Dev thought about taking him to the closest monitoring station but he doubted the merchant would take the time to make a report. Dev released the kid, who kicked Dev in the shin, hard, before running off into the crowd. Dev doubled over, holding his leg where it had been hit and gritting his teeth. A few of the people who had been watching averted their gazes, but not before he saw the telltale sign of amusement on their faces. This was why he hated the Commonwealth. No rule of law…and no justice. Dev rubbed his leg—he might have to get Fúl to check it out later, those Karkurians had sharp little feet.
He stood and dusted himself off, cursing this entire place before checking his comm again. He was close to the contact Rep had given him, and he was ready to be done with this planet, no matter how good the air smelled.
Dev picked up the pace, ignoring the throbbing in his leg, and reaching the given stall only to find it empty with none of the merchandise outside. He rolled his eyes. Figures. But the stall itself was more permanent than the others and attached to a wooden structure on the back side. Perhaps a storage area for the merchant’s goods so he didn’t have to cart them to the market every day. Dev squeezed his way between the two stalls to get around the back to find the wooden structure was enclosed on each side. But there was a door on the rear which looked like it might fall off its hinges any moment. Dev knocked and the door creaked open just a bit.
“Ashun te-se heh,” a voice said from inside. Dev scanned the spectrum with the translator in his comm, finding the correct language.
“Laurian Sing?” Dev asked.
“Who wants to know?” the gruff voice responded.
Good, at least the translator was working. “I was told you deal in…exotic goods.”
A face appeared at the crack of the door, wizened and old, with a bevy of horns surrounding his features. Each one was a different color and two had either been surgically removed or shaved down so they were little more than nubs. “I deal in people.” He eyed Dev. “Don’t see too many humans around here.”
“But you did once, didn’t you?”
A smile appeared on the old man’s face. “Once. Not so long ago.” He finished sizing Dev up. “Come in.”
Dev entered the storeroom, noticing most of the items on the shelves were little more than junk or trinkets—things that could be found almost anywhere. Why Sing needed to store them in here was beyond him. Even if he had them all out on his market stall there was little chance anyone would steal any of this stuff.
Sing walked to the back of the room—the wall that shared the market stall on the other side—and sat down behind a small desk. “Tell me what you have.”
Dev took a few steps forward. It was musty in here, and there was a layer of dust on everything. And what little light there was filtered through the open slats of the structure, throwing long beams across the room. “I have eighty-four. In stasis.”
Sing stared at him, unflinching. “And?”
Dev shook his head. “And what?”
“What kind of shape are they in? What are we talking here? Regulans? Erustiaans? Give me an inventory.”
“Does that really matter?” Dev asked. They were talking about people, not merchandise. Rep had identified Sing as one of the few merchants on Cataal that might be able to get rid of their little problem in orbit. But Dev had some conditions, the foremost being that they kept them all out of what he’d come to know as the trade.
“’Course it matters,” Sing said. “How do I know how much I can sell them for if I don’t even know what I’m buying?”
Dev took a deep breath. “I don’t think you understand. I’m not selling. And neither are you. I’m looking for a place where we can wake these people, integrate them back into society.”
Sing paused, then laughed, the sound filling the room. “You don’t do this kind of thing often, do you?” he asked. “I can see it in your face. The thought of trading people disgusts you.” His smile faded. “Once I buy them, they’re mine to do with as I please. I don’t sell you a plate then tell you not to eat off it.”
Dev shook his head. “This is a waste of my time.” He turned to leave the shack.
“You won’t get a better offer than Laurian Sing, I can tell you that,” the old man called after him. “My price will beat anyone else out there on the market. You’ll see. Come back with a little more steel in your veins next time and we’ll talk.”
Dev left the building with the man still shouting after him. He knew this had been a mistake, and Laurian Sing had just proved him right. He tapped his comm. “Trax, if you hear from Rep, tell him Sing is a dead-end. He should have done a better job researching. I’m heading back to the ship.”
“Oh, no you’re not,” she replied. “Not until we’re done here. We haven’t exhausted all the options yet. Find the next one on the list and keep going. We need to get this albatross off our backs, now. Trax out.”
Dev grumbled under his breath. She should be the one down here doing this, not him. He was a Coalition Officer for Kor’s sake. It didn’t make sense for him to be down on some Commonwealth outpost, trying to broker a transport load full of people. If he thought they could get away with it, he’d take them all back to the Coalition with him—but they’d never get past the border. Things were just too strict over there. He’d have to find another way.
Sighing, Dev brought up the list and crossed Laurian Sing off it. He highlighted the next name and after reading the address, headed back the way he’d originally come.
2
Old Friends
Dev was halfway out of the marketplace when his comm pinged. “Go ahead.”
“Hey, so how did it go with Sing?” Rep asked.
“About as well as it did with the other half dozen merchants you gave me,” Dev growled. “No one on this planet is going to let these people go. All they’ll do is resell them for a higher price and keep the transport ship for themselves.” He stomped along the dirt road. They had found the people in stasis—from sixteen different Commonwealth races—in storage on Nolan’s station in the Preysoc system. Traxia had figured the warlord, Grismatch, had put them there until he could find buyers, as part of his agreement with Nolan to provide the infrastructure to finish his work. But once they had Nolan in custody, it wasn’t as if they could just leave those people there. Grismatch was dead, and a new warlord had yet to claim his title, meaning his territory was now in dispute. Whoever succeeded and found those people would try and turn them for a profit. So, Dev had convinced Traxia to take one of Gris’s transport ships and bring all the people along so they could find a place to remove them from stasis and get them back to their lives. But they needed a handler. Someone who could coordinate to return these people to where they’d been stolen from. It was a big job, with a lot of work. A crew of six on a tiny ship didn’t have the capacity or infrastructure to pull off a job like that.
“Not necessarily,” Rep’s too-bubbly voice said. “Meet me and Dask over in Porasto.”
“Where is that?”
“About three thousand kilometers from your present position. Along the coast.”
Dev pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m just running into dead ends. Why don’t you let me go back to the ship and you and—”
“What? No way, you’ve got to come. I think I’ve got a winner here. Plus, the more of us show up, the more he knows we’re serious. And you like the beach, right? Everyone likes the beach.”
“Not everyone,” Dev replied.
“He doesn’t like the beach,” Rep said, his voice slightly more distant.
“He’s not the only one,” Dev heard Dask reply.
“What? You too? But I thought all repti—I mean…uh…Ashkasi—urk!” There was a shuffling on the other end of the comm and Dev wasn’t sure Dask hadn’t just throttled Rep.
“Get over here before I kill this kid,” Dask growled into the comm and it went dead.
Sighing, Dev headed off in the direction of the landing port. They’d each taken a different part of the planet, as the contacts Rep had identified were all over the place. And since the Mettle only had one shuttle left, Rep had dropped the others off before going to meet his list of contacts. But Dev had insisted on taking the only other thing that could enter and exit a planet’s atmosphere: the escape pod from Grismatch’s station. Dask had retrofitted it with a few extra amenities, since Dev had been the one to destroy the ship’s only other shuttle. Even though it was small and cramped, he preferred it to going down with everyone else. It gave him some sorely needed alone time.
