FINANCIAL
FREEDOM
A Tech Infantry Novella
by
Edward Stasheff & Marcus Johnston
Copyright © 2011
Chapter 6: No Refund, No Return
"Wha—what the hell is this?"
In the covert cargo container on Heth's freighter Bountiful, the fat Imperial inspector stared inside the secret compartment concealed inside the bulkhead. His brow furrowed in confusion as he pulled out a bag filled with crushed, dried greyish-green herbs.
Heth's heart pounded, but he struggled to maintain a calm, cool demeanor. In all his years of trading and smuggling, no inspector ever found the outer hidden chamber before. Heth wasn't sure his "Plan B" would work.
The young, scrawny subordinate inspector also examined a bag. "Marijuana, you think?" he suggested.
"Maybe…" the boss said—but he sounded doubtful. Perhaps it was because the herbs didn't look right, or didn't smell right… or had a drawing of a kitten chasing a butterfly on the label reading "Cosmic Catnip."
"Oh, no! Certainly not!" Heth said, scandalized. "I work for a respectable business, you know!"
The plump head inspector ripped open a bag and dug through it, certain that there must be something of value concealed within. "What the hell is this stuff?"
"It's nepeta," Heth explained.
The two inspectors looked at him, then each other. Neither of them seemed to know what that was.
"It's known to humans as 'catnip,' " Heth clarified.
"Well, why didn't you just say 'catnip,' then?" the head inspector asked, clearly growing frustrated.
"Please!" Heth spat in mock offense, bristling his fur. "I know humans refer to K'Nes as 'cats'—but we consider that a derogatory term. We prefer the more… scientific designation for this human herb."
"Yeah, but what do you want with catnip?" the scrawny one said. "Does this stuff work on you guys, too?"
"It has a… mild mind-altering effect on my species, yes," Heth acknowledged. "It's a sedative, mainly."
"So… it's is an illegal drug, then?" the big inspector asked. "That why you're hiding it?"
"Oh, it's perfectly legal—and profitable!—in K'Nes space," Heth said. "And I assume it's not a controlled substance in the Holy Terran Empire either, since it's for sale to the public in dozens of commercial stores."
"But then…" The inspector looked more confused than ever. "If it's legal in both places… why are you smuggling it?"
"I'm not smuggling anything!" Heth protested, with just a hint of exasperation.
" 'Course you were!" the scrawny subordinate inspector insisted. "Why else would you stash it in here?"
"I'm hiding it from my crew!" Heth explained impatiently. "If I don't, by the time we pull into port, I'll have quite a bit missing and a very relaxed labor force." Heth let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. "Of course, I'll have to find a new hiding place—now that you've shown my crew exactly where the nepeta is hidden!"
"Your crew?" The inspectors looked around. The three of them were alone. "Nobody here but us."
Heth rolled his eyes and pointed to a tiny security camera above the door. "I can guarantee that my pilot M'Rowr is watching us right now."
"He's spying on official Imperial business?" the scrawny inspector exclaimed.
"Of course not!" Heth hissed. "He's just bored! Our departure through the Ashdown jumpgate is taking far, far longer than usual—and I'm behind schedule as it is! Now, please, can we have clearance to leave the system?"
"If it's legal, why didn't you just tell us about this catnip stuff?" the chubby head inspector asked, clearly irked by Heth's behavior. "That would have saved you a lot of time."
"Well…" For the first time, Heth looked less than indignant. He struggled for an answer. "Just in case."
The head inspector narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Well, the K'Nes have had this problem before, you know, especially with theocratic governments like the Holy Terran Empire. My grandsire, for example, had some trouble with the Christian Federation, back during your civil war. Nepeta could be bought there legally, of course, and transported in and out freely—but not, apparently, by a K'Nes merchant." He lowered his voice. "Look, K'Nes have always careful about following local trade regulations for controlled substances, so… personally, I think the Christian Federation just made up that law on the spur of the moment, once they realized nepeta was a K'Nes narcotic. And I'm sure racism played no small part in that decision!"
The two inspectors just looked at him, not sure what to say to that. They looked at each other. "Whadaya think, boss?" the scrawny one asked. "Arrest 'em for smuggling anyway?"
Scat! Heth's tail began swishing nervously. "Look, you're clearly busy looking for something important, and it's not on this ship. If time is of the essence, then arresting me—especially when I doubt you could make a smuggling charge stick—would be an even greater waste of time and effort, not to mention unnecessary legal expenses. What don't we just call it even—you won't arrest me for smuggling, and I won't, uh… file charges for species profiling and racial harassment. Deal?" He held out his paw, the human custom for sealing a deal.
The head inspector blinked at the K'Nes, confused and indecisive. He stared at the paw. He couldn't see the claws—they were retracted at the moment—but he knew they were there. But then he saw the glittering jewelry on the cat's fingers, and his demeanor changed completely.
"Sure. Deal. Paperwork's a bitch anyway." He reached out and (carefully) grasped the cat's paw in a prolonged handshake. Heth slid a thin silver ring off his finger and into the man's palm with a discrete, practiced movement. The inspector released Heth's paw, then turned to his subordinate while slipping his hand casually into his pocket. "Come on, let's go. Radio the head office, let 'em know these cats don't have what we're looking for."
Heth escorted them to the airlock, giving a non-stop sales pitch the whole time. "Would you like to buy some Mungunwha algae? Or perhaps some Jurvain splatterbugs? They're really quite tasty, once you get past the gag reflex!" By the time they left, he was fairly sure they wanted to be off the Bountiful as much as he did.
The minute the airlock sealed behind them, Heth let out a huge sigh of relief. That had been close. Too close. Closer than he'd ever come to being caught. He fished out his snuff box with trembling paws, raised a large pinch of nepeta to his nose, inhaled sharply… and within seconds felt the calm descend over him.
After that, Heth's convoy was given clearance to move through the jumpgate to Ashdown and Federation space. Heth waited until the Bountiful was deep into the safe, legal no-man's-land of hyperspace, then summoned M'Rowr to the covert cargo container. "Smooth move with the apes there, boss!" M'Rowr said, floating through the hatch.
"Not smooth enough," Heth chided himself, already tossing bags of nepeta out of the hidden compartment. "Now deflate, get down here, and help me with this!"
After a long belch, M'Rowr landed softly on his paws. "Scat, why me, Heth? I mean, you got a lotta sailors who aren't overdue for their nocturnal cycle…"
Heth sighed. "Because I trust you, M'Rowr. When I got demoted for breaking a contract, you still supported me—even though no one else in the clan did. Besides… you've got a financial stake in this operation."
"Well… thanks, cousin!" M'Rowr grinned as he cleared out the concealed compartment. Once empty, Heth activated a transmitter hidden in his clan signet ring and waved his hand over the floor of the concealed compartment. A moment later, a deck plate seemed to melt away as thousands of nanobots moved to reveal a sunken latch.
"So… is our 'trust' growing any?" M'Rowr asked. "Gotta send the cubs to business school, after all…"
"Oh, very well," Heth growled. He activated the latch, and the false back wall of the concealed compartment swung down, exposing a second chamber hidden behind it. "I'll transfer one percent of the proceeds from this deal to their trust fund."
"Hmm… two percent, you say?" M'Rowr licked his fangs hungrily.
"Oh, alright! One and a quarter—and it's null and void unless you keep your big mouth shut about this cargo!"
"You got it, boss!" M'Rowr said, yanking the stasis pod within then inner compartment. "Y'know… I wasn't sure the backup chamber would be able to cloak the stasis pod…"
"Neither was I," Heth admitted. "But these nanobots came from an old suit of K'Nes Tor Army power armor—including its stealth programming." Heth grunted, tugging at the pod. "Even during the Second Vulthra War, the apes didn't have cloaks that even came close!"
"Well, yeah… but you're forgetting how that war ended, cuz," M'Rowr said, pulling. "We lost—believe me, I remember, I was on the front lines!" The stasis pod slowly floated out of its hiding place on anti-grav skates. "An' then the apes took everything that wasn't nailed down—including our stealth tech!" M'Rwor leaned on the pod, panting. "I worried… they might've… developed countermeasures… by now…"
"Perhaps they did," Heth said, puffing himself, "but not completely, apparently. They obviously detected something on our freighter… they just didn't know what. That's where bluffing came in." Heth pointed a weary claw at his mangy cousin. "The apes have many advantages, true… but we K'Nes can talk anyone into anything at any time. Never forget that, M'Rowr."
"Eh… if you say so, boss." M'Rwor shrugged, indifferent. "So, where we moving this pod to?"
"Biohazard containment," Heth answered. "There's a powerful mage inside here. I don't care if she's unconscious—I'm not taking any chances! I want this stasis pod—and that ring Wells gave us, too—locked down tighter than the First Varrless Bank of Purrfang!"
The voyage to New Madrid, the capital of what was left of the Federation, was long and uneventful. The K'Nes on board took turns for their nocturnal cycles, and Heth fell exhausted onto his cushion before curling up for a very long, deep sleep.
K'Nes and humans evolved on very different planets—in fact, the K'Nes homeworld of Purrfang was not even a planet, but a large moon orbiting the enormous gas giant T'Ssowll. When the moon's long orbit took it behind the dark side of T'Ssowll, blotting out the sun, Purrfang nights lasted over three and a half human days. K'Nes nocturnal cycles had evolved to match the long darkness. Of course, this meant that K'Nes could stay awake and alert much, much longer than humans could… but the apes seemed to ignore that, focusing instead on the K'Nes as lazy beasts who "sleep all the time."
But after eighty-four hours of uninterrupted slumber, Heth was once again bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to negotiate the next part of his trade deal with the Federation. As predicted, the initial contact did not go well.
"A hundred thousand?!"
"I'm glad we understand each other." The businesscat preened himself. "I've worked hard on my English. The accent is difficult to master."
"This is not what we agreed!" The trooper with the sergeant's stripes literally stomped his feet. The deck plates answered with a dull roar. The civilian orbital station was obviously not in good repair. Even M'Rowr, floating next to Heth, hovered closer to the airlock… just in case.
"No, it most certainly is not." Heth bristled his fur in indignation. "Our contract specified I was to pick up refugee families. Instead, I find a single woman in a box, being transported against her will, who apparently the Empire is looking for." Heth floated closer, his yellow eyes narrowing to slits. "You wouldn't happen to know why, would you, Sergeant?"
To his disappointment, the sergeant appeared just as clueless as the K'Nes was. After a couple blinks, he said, "Well… I can't authorize that kind of payment."
"Fine. Then take me to someone who can."
"That won't be necessary," a man's voice erupted. Suddenly a man in an Earth Fleet uniform appeared out of thin air, leaning in the shadows of bulkhead. Heth blinked in surprise. The man wasn't wearing stealth armor, so he must have been using magick… yet Heth's whisker rings had sensed nothing. Either he's so magically weak my rings can't detect him, Heth thought, which is doubtful, considering the trick he just pulled, or… he's powerful enough to hide himself from magickal detection. Heth's fur bristled again—but in fear this time.
The pale, dark-haired officer strolled casually toward the cats. He looked like any normal healthy human male… too healthy in fact, too good to be real. He looked in the prime of his life, but his cold eyes betrayed his actual age. Biosculpt, Heth guessed. After all, if you don't like your pelt, why not change it?
The sergeant snapped to attention. "Captain, I was just—"
"Doing what you were told, I know." The officer seemed bored. "You've done well, Tinsler. You're dismissed."
The sergeant's emotions played games on his face. "So… does that mean…?"
"Yes, you'll get the transfer."
Sergeant Tinsler brightened up immediately. Snapping a salute, he said, "You won't regret it, sir!"
"I know." The captain gave a predatory smile that gave Heth the shivers. "Dismissed."
Once the trooper walked away, the officer shrugged. "I apologize for your troubles, M. Miao. I was assured this transaction would go smoothly. One of my agents was supposed to deliver the shipment to you at St. Michael's Star."
"He did. You have good choice in assistants… unlike myself." Heth nodded towards M'Rowr, looking unabashedly at his own reflection in the airlock window. "But there appears to have been some… er, confusion about the cargo volume. I was led to believe I would be dealing in economies of scale."
The officer shrugged, unconcerned. "Just a little misunderstanding, I'm sure. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to inspect the… er, merchandise before paying."
He's stalling, Heth thought. Well, let him. Either way, he'll soon realize I've got the upper paw. This isn't my first pissing contest. Heth gave the ape his most vicious fang-filled smile. "Certainly, sir, right this way." He nodded at M'Rowr. His pilot didn't get the signal at first, so Heth had to growl—loudly. "M'Rowr?"
"What?"
"The hatch, M'Rowr?"
"Oh." The pilot sheepishly grinned and opened the hatch into the Bountiful's airlock. Heth led the way through the freighter, followed by the captain, with M'Rowr in tow, until they came to the biohazard containment unit. The businesscat pointed to a clear plastic porthole in the hatch. "I believe you'll find your shipment safely stowed in here."
The captain looked through the hatch, saw the stasis pod safely inside the biohazard chamber… and raised an eyebrow. In the event of a leak from chemical, biological, or radiological cargo, every biohazard unit was equipped with an emergency airlock, ready to blow the contents of the chamber into space—which, in this case, included the stasis pod, conveniently placed right in front of the airlock.
"I see…" The Captain nodded, instantly grasping the implications. "I'd like to see the pod to confirm its contents first."
"Certainly—once we agree to a hundred thousand credits. Payment in full, on delivery."
"Oh really?" The officer sounder more amused than worried. "And if I refuse?"
Now Heth's whisker rings started quivering. He forced himself to act casual as he tapped a claw on the access panel next to the hatch. "Then without the correct passcode, the airlock blows, the pod is shot into space, and an attached explosive will detonate once it's clear of the ship. I detest violence, Captain, I really do… but I detest operating under a false contract even more."
The whisker rings stilled as the captain sighed and tried a different approach. "I thought you cats lived and died by your contracts… and you agreed with M. Chambers for—"
"Ten thousand per head, yes," Heth agreed, nodding, "in families—you'll notice the plural form of the word. Therefore, assuming at least two families, containing an average of five people per household—according to your census data, at least—it was a reasonable expectation that I would be transporting at least ten humans. That comes to a total of one hundred thousand credits… which is why I accepted this job in the first place. Anything less, and it would simply not be cost-effective to run past the Imperial Guard." Heth narrowed his eyes. "But I suspect you already know what… which is why you had M. Chambers tell me some bluster and nonsense about saving refugee families instead of kidnapping a single human female."
The officer shot a glare at Heth, then returned to gazing through the porthole at the stasis pod, muttering darkly under his breath about legal loopholes (and some unfounded accusations about the parentage of K'Nes accountants).
Heth knew he was playing a dangerous game... but he still had several goals to accomplish during this negotiation. So, despite the risk, he pressed the mage harder. "K'Nes don't take kindly to contract breakers, you know. I suspect a man in your position may require the services of Miao Mercantile again—but we Miao have a motto: A deal is a deal. Fail to honor our contract, and we'll never do business with you again… nor will our subsidiaries… or our corporate allies… not to mention public customer blacklists… you get the picture."
The captain's face was unreadable, but Heth's whisker rings began tingling again; it was time for him to back off. Besides, he had the ape where he wanted him: angry and resentful at being strong-armed. Now if I give him just a little leverage back and let him think he's in control, Heth thought, he'll agree to my offer. "Of course," Heth said casually, making it sound like an afterthought, "I might be willing to drop the price by ten percent in exchange for a small additional service."
The captain shot Heth a sideways glance. "What kind of service?"
"Well," Heth began, "a man who can negotiate thousands of credits and arrange such a covert transfer successfully is obviously quite powerful, presumably with many influential connections within the Feder—"
"I'm a special assistant to Chairman Smythe," the officer cut him off, losing patience. "Cut the flattery and get to the point, M. Miao."
"If you wish… I recently obtained an old suit of human power armor for resale," Heth explained, leaving out the part about the customer being the Holy Terran Empire. "A Mark 100 Centurion model, I believe."
The captain let out a low whistle. "That is old."
"Indeed—which is probably why it doesn't work, making it nothing more than a very expensive office decoration… but that's the inherent risk in buying military surplus, I suppose." Heth sighed. "But… well, given your position and influence, if you could arrange for a specialist to diagnose and repair it, I might still be able to flip it for a profit."
The officer was silent a moment, suspicious. "You'd knock ten thousand off the price… to repair an obsolete suit of power armor?"
"It's far cheaper than building our own equipment to repair it, I assure you. The Miao don't currently have the facilities for military-grade nanotechnology," Heth answered. "And with the current war raging, you'd be surprised how much even an obsolete power armor suit will sell for in the Ministry or Terran Republic." Heth carefully only mentioned factions the Federation had good—or at least neutral—relations with.
"I see." The captain looked back into the biohazard chamber and nodded. "Yes, I can arrange that… for twenty-five percent off."
"Twenty. Any less and I won't turn a profit on the suit."
The officer considered that, then nodded. "Done. Eighty thousand for this job."
"And future jobs?"
The officer snorted disdainfully. "You can't be serious…"
But Heth pressed his case. "Captain, the misleading contract we had was simply bad business, and our mutual betrayal produced only a one-time profit. But a happy customer is an investment—leading to repeat business. If you can't trust K'Nes ethics, I'm sure you can trust K'Nes greed." The human chuckled—or perhaps scoffed—but said nothing. "Besides," Heth pushed, "not only is Miao Mercantile the industry leader in transporting black market commodities, our neutral political status gives us considerable freedom to move through your enemy's territory—with much less scrutiny than other ap… er, humans. Think about it: I just delivered your cargo—the wrong type of cargo, I might add—right under the Empire's nose while they were looking for her. And I'm only middle management."
The captain stared at the K'Nes for a moment… then slowly smiled. "Why don't I have you on my staff?"
"You can't afford me." Heth whistled, and M'Rowr floated over to hand him a datapad. "You can, however, rent my services. This is a standard Miao contract. Transportation of unnamed individuals in locations to be specified by you, ten thousand per head, with a minimum of ten individuals per shipment. Delivery to be here in New Madrid… or if you specify somewhere else, a rider is attached to cover that eventuality."
The man took the datapad, hit the translator, and scanned the short document. K'Nes legalese was simplified and air-tight; after all, they had been practicing it for centuries. The captain looked up. "Five thousand."
"Ten is the—"
"Five… or you can keep your credits and walk."
Five thousand is still a good profit for this kind of venture, Heth reminded himself, plus I've pushed this mage too far all ready. "Done. If I may make the necessary alterations?" The captain handed the datapad back and the businesscat moved his paw across the screen, altering the key phrase. "Shall we sign?"
Heth held out the pad, and the human officer placed his thumb over the pressure patch in the corner of the tablet. There was a muffled click as the needles drew their blood signature; the captain barely seemed to notice it.
The K'Nes grinned. I'm that much closer to winning Miu's auction! He looked back at his very profitable customer. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name…?"
"Gergenstein. Captain Herbert Gergenstein."
"Well, M. Gerginsign," Heth said, stumbling over the foreign name a bit as he punched in the access code, "the merchandise is yours."
Gergenstein nearly ran over, immediately running his hands over the pod, an almost hungry expression on his face. After a close inspection of the seals, he seemed curiously amused as he turned back to Heth. "I'm surprised you didn't let Stephanie out."
"Of course not!" Heth replied indignantly. "I was told that… Stephanie, is it?... had a medical condition." He paused to lick a paw and smooth down his mane. "Frankly, you can ship all your families this way if you wish—but I'd prefer to know first. A human on their feet is much easier to smuggle than an active stasis pod."
"You weren't curious?" Gergenstein asked absently, staring at the red-haired woman inside the pod.
"Oh, of course I am. But in our profession, discretion is held at a premium, and it pays not to ask unnecessary questions. Besides, I believe your people have a saying about curiosity and cats?"
Gergenstein laughed; it wasn't a pleasant sound. "It's a pity no one ever follows that advice. I assume you will deactivate the explosive?"
"Uh… yes, of course!" Thinking fast, Heth pulled a plastic tab from his breast pocket and pressed the lone button; it made a beeping sound. "It's deactivated." The businesscat was glad he hadn't left his aircar remote back home on Nhur; after all, there was no explosive device. Heth had no desire to kill anyone or throw away his expensive trump card in the negotiation. "The anti-grav can be turned on just…" He pointed to a lever. "…there."
Gergenstein kicked the anti-grav and started to push the pod back towards the airlock to the space station, looking down at the woman inside. "We've got a lot of work to do, Stephanie," he muttered softly. "Assuming you're a good girl, that is…" The captain smiled like the proverbial cat with the canary.
"Stephanie?" Suddenly it all clicked in Heth's mind—a powerful female mage from St. Michael's Star named Stephanie… With a squirt of oxygen, he zoomed up next the Gergenstien. "Stephanie Harrington? Heir to the Harrington Industries megacorp fortune? That Stephanie?"
"Remember that saying about curiosity and cats?" Gergenstein growled, low and dangerous.
"Oh, it's none of my business, of course," Heth was quick to add. "It's just… I thought Stephanie Harrington was assassinated decades ago..."
The captain shrugged absently, his attention completely on the pod. "Poisoned, yes; killed, no. They put her in a stasis coma until they could find a cure for the virus. That much, I can tell you—it’s a matter of public record."
"Oh. I see." Well, perhaps I saved a life after all, Heth thought, albeit just one instead of several. "Well, I'm delighted to hear that!"
They moved through the corridors in silence for a while, M'Rowr floating behind. "Is there anything else, M. Miao?" Gergenstein finally sighed in frustration, like a kid desperate to unwrap his new present. "Or is our business concluded?"
"Not quite yet, I'm afraid," Heth said. "There is still the matter of the power armor repairs…"
"Oh. Right." Gergenstein reached in his jacket and pulled out a piece of clearplaz. "Contact this office. I'll tell them to assist you in any way possible."
Heth smiled happily at the business card. Technical Infantry Research & Development—excellent! With any luck, I'll finally be able to prove my power armor deal was sabotaged, that I didn't break a contract! He turned back to Gergenstein. "So, uh… wanna buy some algae? Feed the troops?"
