Chase of the Teal Tiger

C

Chase of the Teal Tiger

Margaret Ernsberger

Copyright 2013 by Margaret Ernsberger

Smashwords Edition

Cover art by Shaman’s Stockart

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

1CHASE OF THE TEAL TIGER

CHAPTER ONE

Dominick Chase tried lifting up his head. Unsuccessfully. How long since he’d passed out? The small puddle of drool where one side of his face was pressed against the table indicated more than just a few minutes. Was he still in the cabaret? Just how much Nunki Nektar had he drank? Dominick fixed one steel grey eye on the spiral-shaped bottle. It was empty.

Flickers of memory punched through the haze of his mind. The card game where other players kept making up rules. Dominick losing his patience and drawing his Attenuated Thorillium Mutilator (ATM ™) from its holster, only to be surrounded by local Trigellans all bearing slingshots. The idea of being pelted by a couple dozen pebbles was too humiliating for words, so he had backed down. And then lost money big time.

Dominick tried again to rise up, but the smell of multiple hallucinogenic cigarillos made his head ache. He’d almost lost consciousness again when disembodied voices penetrated his mind.

Murder...Lord Protector... There were other words, drowned out by the noise of the cabaret. Revolution...Karsila... That broke through Dominick’s haze. A revolution on Karsila, the Trigellan League’s largest port planet? It couldn’t last long; the League would send in Defense Guards to put it down right away. And as for the other words? Was the Lord Protector of the League murdered? Did that have anything to do with the revolution?

One way or another there looked to be some work for a bounty hunter. Dominick had a ship, a small crew, and a bounty hunter’s license. His little band didn’t make a lot of money but they got by, although Dominick had just lost his share of the bounty with his gambling. Plus the share that was supposed to be reserved for ship repairs. Maybe he could tell the crew he’d been drugged. Or robbed. Or drugged and robbed. The Syrellian Eye wasn’t the classiest joint on Arkon. In fact, there weren’t any classy joints on Arkon. The cabaret was a place where one could find wine, women and song. Or rather, watered-down ale, females who barely qualified for that moniker, and a noisy racket that purported to be an ancient style of music called can-can. Dominick didn’t know what that word meant, other than the name rhymed with fan, which was what the dancers on the tiny stage were wielding, while dressed in ancient Solarian tutus, fans flying all over the place, sometimes inadvertently smacking fellow dancers in the head.

In another part of the cabaret, close to the stage, Varian Kolokulas drank his stale ale slowly; it was too disgusting to drink quickly, even though his boss Dominick said that was the way to do it. Varian watched the dancing with incredulity. Could this really be a tradition Solarian dance? He’s have to ask Dominick, who was from Terra itself.

The dancers had makeup that was so overdone that it was difficult to tell if they were actually unattractive or not. Their low cut tutus revealed over-ample bosoms and over-ample legs. Varian found himself watching only the legs--they were right in his line of sight--and was surprised when a rather lithe and limber pair passed before him. He raised his eyes up and saw a face painted so much like the others that she could all have been wearing a mask. But she didn’t seem to have the problem of whacking her fellow dancers with her fans. Except when it appeared to be intentional.

The only thing Varian noticed that was different about her was a tattoo of a quadri-trident across the top of one breast. He stared at it intensely, trying to remember where he’d seen it before. Remembering tattoos was something bounty hunters were used to, but it still eluded him. Maybe the comp on the ship would have it.

Dominick finally roused himself enough to raise his head above shoulder height. He cast his gaze around and glimpsed Varian near the stage. He let out a laugh at the sight of the visual assault on his crewman. He was surprised that the dancer in front of him didn’t flatten him with her fans for staring so fixedly at her chest.

Neeco deVille, another member of Dominick’s crew, glided up smoothly, hideously overdressed for such a dive, in a blue spider-silk shirt and gold pleated hakama pants. Dominick wore retro-style cargo pants in Martian camouflage pattern, and a black sleeveless V-neck shirt.

Just came from a backroom game of Impatience, he announced. One thousand creds just to enter the game. Came out ten thousand ahead.

And no doubt you’d spend it all on a bottle of wine if there was such a thing around here.

A look of distaste crossed Neeco’s features. "For five hundred, I could buy every bottle of liquor in this place. Assuming, of course, that I would want to. Actually, they would have to pay me!"

What did you drink in that backroom? Dominick asked.

Well...someone was kind enough to provide shots of whiskourbon.

How much per shot?

Too much. But at least it was real alcohol. None of the stuff in this room has anything to do with real alcohol.

Booze is booze. You ferment something, it’s alcohol.

And if someone fermented manure, would you drink it?

Dominick just sighed. Neeco straightened his silk shirt and ran a hand through his curly hair. Dominick unconsciously ran a hand over his own head, in spite of having no hair to smooth down. The baldness was his own choice, done, he said, because it was practical, but more likely because he thought it made him look tougher.

As Neeco strolled off, before Dominick could recover, his last compatriot, Elvin Brentt, strolled up. Hey, Dominick, he said cheerfully, tugging unconsciously at one of the holes in his colorless shirt. How’d the gambling go?

I was drugged and robbed, Dominick told him.

Brentt picked up the Nunki bottle. Must’ve been touch to force you to drink all of this, he remarked. Or did you keep drinking it after you were drugged?

-----------------------

The loud music was beginning to give Varian a headache. He should never have sat so close to the stage. At least the dancer had gone away. He’d been mortified by the attention she’d given him. Oh, well, he thought, I’ll be out of here before the next show.

Could I buy you a drink? a female voice said in his ear.

Varian almost fell out of his chair. The voice belonged to the same dancer, although the only way he could be sure was the tattoo located prominently in the same disturbing location. Ummm...I guess so. He was totally flustered. In places like these, dancers usually wanted you to pay. Varian felt his cheeks flush. That is, he stammered, if you want to.

Oh, I want to. Definitely. She slid her slim, scantily-clad form - rather than the traditional bustier and loose-fitting pants, she wore a corset that revealed a considerable amount of midriff and a short, flounced skirt - into the seat opposite Varian and signaled for a robotender. For the first time, Varian noticed her dark brown, almost black, eyes, creamy cocoa skin, and thick raven-black hair that tumbled with curls down her back.

He smiled at her hesitatingly. My name is Varian, he said.

Theda, she said as she fed cred chips into the coin slot of the rather short and squat robotender. The robot filled their drink orders from a dispenser.

Varian said carefully, You, uh, you often buy men drinks like this? I mean, well--

Actually, I do have a reason for wanting to talk to you, she said abruptly. Varian cursed mentally. He had begun to believe that she was simply taken with the rugged and slightly mercenary appearance he liked to think he had. But of course she would have an ulterior motive.

Theda continued, "I think I am correct in believing that you are a member of the Teal Tiger’s crew? Varian nodded. I need passage off this world. I have something of value that I need to sell while the market price is still good--"

Varian’s memory suddenly clicked into place. The tattoo she had. It was the mark of a Traveler. Something she needed to sell? She was a thief, although probably not worth a bounty. She was also beautiful, but he shook his head slowly Forget it. The Tiger’s captain is Dominick Chase. Ever heard of him? She shook her head. He doesn’t take female passengers unless they’re prisoners."

What? That’s ridiculous! Why shouldn’t he?

He seems to think that it’s bad luck. I’m sorry, but--

I can pay for my passage-- she began.

It wouldn’t make any difference.

Dominick shuffled through the cabaret, dodging (most of the time) the assortment of tables that turned the floor into a maze. Almost to the door, Dominick saw a tall, slender reptilian creature, with green and black mottled skin and whose facial features resembled that of a cross between a dragon and an alligator, roaring at the barkeep. The creature (Dominick couldn’t be certain of its gender) wore only ankle-length black trousers and had thick green legs stuffed into boots that looked a size too small. As he continued to yell, Dominick recognized that he was a Lammadusian, a race that he’d heard of but had yet to encounter.

Until now.

As the Lammadusian shook a weighty fist at the man, Dominick slowly squeezed by the pair, planning for a quick escape. He didn’t want to get involved in the dispute--destined to become bloody--but suddenly the reptile whirled to see Dominick. The bounty hunter froze in his tracks as the reptile began shouting at Dominick in the Lammadusian dialect, which Dominick didn’t comprehend in the least.

Using the more or less universal Common Galactic speech, Dominick tried to sound casual. Is there a problem? he asked the enraged alien. The Lammadusian roared a reply which rattled Dominick’s bones. He shook his head as he said, Sorry, I don’t speak your language.

But I speak yours, the reptile replied in Dominick’s own language. He continued, "And I do have a problem. This Arkonian slobmoss, who values his life very little, refuses to give me a drink! He pointed an accusing finger at the barkeep, who replied, Don’t go lookin’ to him for help. I don’t owe him any favors. But he does owe me one long cred tab."

Dominick had intended to stay out of this situation, but now he was made. Not that the barkeep was lying; he did owe quite a tab, and no sooner did he pay one off that he acquired another. But he had just been publicly insulted, and that was enough.

Dominick pivoted to face the bar, placed his own strong arms across his chest, and eyed the unnerved barkeep. Well? How about it, slobmoss? Is what this, er, gentleman said true?

He ain’t no more a gentleman than you! the barkeep threw back, whereupon the Lammadusian leaned across the bar, his large white fangs gleaming menacingly. The barkeep glared at Dominick and said, He has torn up this place four times so far. The boss says not to give him anything else. Lammadusians can swim in a vat of acid without blinkin’ an eye, but they can’t hold their liquor!

The Lammadusian in question did not care for this remark, and grabbed the barkeep, pulling him across the bar towards him.

Hey, wait a minute! Dominick advised the would-be assassin. He looked at the barkeep. "Look, I’ll take responsibility for him. Let him have what he wants." And blast the consequences, he added silently. In fact, he was hoping for some messy, trash-the-cabaret type consequences. That would teach him to insult customers, even if the customer did owe him money.

Slowly, the barkeep was released by the reptile, who roared with what Dominick hoped was laughter. He playfully slapped the bounty hunter across the back, knocking him against the bar and down on his knees.

When he tears up the place, I’ll call the Guards! the barkeep promised.

"I said I’d be responsible, didn’t I? You got a hearing problem? The barkeep shook his head, glaring at Dominick. Then give him what he wants to drink!" Almost immediately the man produced a bottle and two glasses.

Join me, the Lammadusian commanded more than asked.

Thanks, but...

I insist! the creature roared in reply, and propelled Dominick’s six-foot-two frame towards an empty table. Deciding that it was best not to argue, Dominick sat down. He accepted the drink that was passed to him. I owe you my thanks, Solarian, the Lammadusian declared, downing his own drink in half a second.

Forget it, Dominick said.

What are you called?

Dominick Chase. And you?

I am Troz.

Lammadusian, right? Dominick inquired. Troz nodded. Can a Lammadusian really swim in a vat of acid?

Again Troz nodded. Any flavor, we can take it. Thick skins. Where are you from, Dominickchase?

Solarian System, Planet Terra to be exact.

A long way from home, are you not?

I get around, said Dominick.

You have a ship.

Yeah, Dominick replied as he watched Troz drain another glass of liquor in one swallow.

Is she fast?

I’ve outrun League Spiders at least a dozen times, Dominick said offhandedly. You live around here? he asked.

Just passing through, my friend, as you are. I was working on a Tyrollian freighter but I’m between jobs, Troz replied, draining a third glass. And you?

Between jobs as well and looking for a prospect.

F-find one?

Finally, Dominick replied uneasily, but it took a Standard Week to do it. He cautiously eyed Troz, who polished off the last of the bottle in one large gulp.

What’s y-your s-ship run on, ion engines?

Fusion conversion.

Then your ship must be invici...invi...in...pow-pow-p-p--uh, strong, Troz said in a drunken slur.

Dominick decided he’d best get Troz out while the reptile could still walk. He had an irritating feeling that the barkeep had been right all along. Why don’t we go, Troz? Dominick suggested as he stood up. I’ll show you my ship--

Later! I want another bottle! Troz bellowed. B-barkeep! B-barkeep! Another b-bottle f-f-or me and m-my friend, D-d-d...uh...chase.

I really think... Dominick began, when Troz overturned the table, knocking Dominick out of his chair and onto the floor, the table busting to pieces in the process. Troz jumped up and staggered toward the bar.

I want a drink! he roared at the barkeep, who backed away slowly from him. Troz reached across the bar and began to strangle him. Interestingly enough, none of the Trigs who’d wielded their slingshots earlier at Dominick made an appearance here. But then if Lammadusian hides were impervious acids, a few sharp pebbles would make any difference.Dominick crawled out from under the table’s debris and grabbed at Troz’s hands, trying to pull them off of the barkeep’s neck. He pulled at the creature’s strong arms with every ounce of strength he had, but he still couldn’t dislodge him. Surprisingly, the reptile from Lammadu released the barkeep, swung around, and staggered towards a table, the occupants of which wisely vacated it immediately. He smashed the table and chairs to pieces.

I told you! I told you! the barkeep croaked angrily at Dominick.

"Shut up!" Dominick screamed at him, knowing the man was right. What was I thinking? Dominick wondered. I didn’t even know this guy...creature...whatever. He watched as Troz grabbed a defenseless robotender and dismantled its various utilitarian arms. Just two drinks, Dominick realized painfully. Just two drinks!

The barkeep ran into a curtained back room, probably to call the Guards. Adrenalin flowing furiously, Dominick realized that he’d better get out of there, and quickly. He glanced briefly at the drunken Lammadusian, decided the mess here wasn’t his own fault, and turned to leave.

The barkeep materialized as Dominick neared the door. You’re not leaving, he said, determined.

Dominick simply shoved him out of the way, seeing Trig Defense Guards coming into view. He took off through the door, running at full speed and not looking back for even an instant.

----------------------

Dominick smiled with relief when he finally reached the docking bay. He paid a quick visit to the port authority office to file his flight plan before heading for the Teal Tiger. As he hurried up the ramp of the converted freight-hauler, a squat nightmare of patched-together metal alloys, through the hatchway into the ship, he was met by his crew. Neeco said, "Dominick, what in hades is that?"

Dominick to view what Neeco was referring to: Troz, who stood hunched in the saloon doorway.

Troz, what in the nether regions are you doing here? Dominick demanded.

Still under the effects of the alcohol, Troz stammered, You led me here, d-didn’t you?

No, I did not. You gotta leave. We’re shipping out in a few minutes.

A few minutes? Varian exclaimed. What’s the hurry?

I got us a job.

Is that all? said Brentt suspiciously.

Well, the Guards may come after me.

In trouble again? Neeco asked, folding his arms across the front of his blue spider-spun silk shirt.

It was his fault! Dominick exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Troz. "He trashed the cabaret and I got blamed for it!"

Terrific.

To Troz, Dominick said, You gotta leave.

Troz protested, But you can’t just throw me to the Guards--!

"Don’t cry on my shoulder, buddy. You should’ve thought of that before you started bustin’ tables and heads!"

But I’m sick!

You’re not sick, Dominick returned. Just drunk. He pointed Troz in the direction of the exit and the mammoth reptilian dejectedly began plodding towards it. He stopped when a voice burst forth from the ships’s intercom system.

"Attention, Teal Tiger!. This is Commander Kirth of Caboti’jik Flight Control. You are requested to disembark from your ship immediately. You will be held for further questioning by the Trigellan Defense Guards regarding damage to the Caboti’jik Cabaret and harboring a fugitive named Lammadusian."

The speaker fell silent as Dominick reached for a nearby viewscreen to see outside the ship. Defense Guards were approaching from all sides. Any attempt at takeoff will be taken as a declaration of guilt, Flight Control continued.

Blast! Dominick swore aloud as he glanced as his crew.What do we do? Varian asked.

Get out of here.

"Why not just give them him?" Brentt inquired. He jerked a finger towards the swaying figure of Troz.

You going to give them me as well? Dominick said coldly.

But leaving without port authority is a crime! Varian said.

As if it were your first, said Dominick. Everyone man your posts. We’re leaving and that’s final.

Brentt raised an eyebrow. They weren’t lawbreakers, just bounty hunters, a perfectly legal profession in the League. Which side of the law are we on?

"Our side, Dominick said. I’m not spending my life on a prison planet because of some bureaucratic screw-up. And don’t tell me it doesn’t happen. We’ll leave quietly and explain ourselves later. After all, we don’t want to spend our days running from our own rivals, do we?" he laughed.

"What do I do?" Troz inquired.

Are you still here? Dominick asked as he turned back to the Lammadusian. He looked slightly pale, if that was possible with a green-skinned species. The captain of the Teal Tiger was afraid that the alien was going to be sick. Just how much and how far could a Lammadusian throw up? I don’t know. Go sleep off your blasted drunk! Dominick commanded as he turned and headed for the cockpit.

He quickly prepared the Tiger’s systems for takeoff. Firing up the Tiger’s powerful engines, he called out to Neeco Close ramp.

Closing now, Neeco returned. Quickly and silently, the ramp slid into the ship’s hull while a hatch closed down over the opening.

Flight Control didn’t like it one bit. A voice began to bellow through the speaker. "Captain Chase! You do not have authorization to take off! If you do not shut down at once, you will risk losing your ship to the League Impound! This is an order, Captain!"

Dominick’s reply was to switch the com-system off. He turned his attention back to the League Guards, who were quickly filing into the docking bay. They begin to fire on the Tiger. They must be taking you seriously, Dominick, Brentt commented.

Yeah, well, the Defense Guards like to impress people, Dominick remarked. The Protector’s palace is too far away from this spit-in-the-space-lanes planet to hear any complaints. I think it’s time to leave this exotic vacation land and head for the security of deep space.

The Teal Tiger swung up and around, leaving a burned blast trail on the bay floor as it climbed clumsily out of the docking bay toward the safety of open space.

Ask comp for coordinates for flux jump to Karsila, push the button and we’re off! The universe flew past, leaving them in the eternal darkness of flux space. Blast, how I love these fly-themselves ships! How in hades did they fly in space without ‘em?

The ship was now on the equivalent of autopilot. If one didn’t set a course before entering flux space, there was no telling where they would be when they came out. The same went for taking a ship off autopilot and then leaving flux space: the destination would be completely unpredictable.

Now, Dominick said, folding his hands behind his head, "we can relax and check the Bounty Hunter’s Network. I heard something at the cabaret about someone murdering the Lord Protector and a revolution on Karsila."

The BHN had a number of different types of searches that could be made. Aside from the main search, for bounties being offered, there were also news sites, flight information, and scores of other things that could be helpful in catching a fugitive.

A news report clarified that the Lord Protector, the ruler of the Trigellan League, had not actually been murdered, but an attempt had been made on his life. The would-be assassin was the Brenna Copathian, the daughter of the Protector’s top advisor, Chancellor Einar Copathian. There was some speculation as to the motive, as Brenna had once been betrothed to the Protector, and the betrothal had been broken off in order for the Protector to arrange a more politically advantageous marriage.

And the fact that the Chancellor himself declared he had witnessed his daughter preparing the poison that had been used in the attempted murder sealed her fate. The penalty in this case would be death. And the bounty would be enormous.

A search regarding the planet Karsila turned up nothing unusual. No revolution. So what were the Trigs at the cabaret talking about? Was it related to the Protector’s murder attempt? Dominick entered in search parameters: Karsila, revolution, Lord Protector. He was awaiting results when his thoughts were interrupted, and he had a strange expression on his face. Without a word, he leaped from his chair and slammed out of the cockpit. Neeco turned back to the viewscreen Dominick had been looking at. The answer to the expression was there.

It was a woman.

Return to beginning

CHAPTER TWO

Dominick charged through the ship’s narrow passageways, not stopping till he reached the saloon, where the woman, Theda, was standing next to Varian. She was no longer dressed in cabaret garb but instead wore a tight-fitting white shirt with an overlaying black laced-up bodice that revealed just a hint of her midriff, plus a pair of loose-fitting black cotton pants.

The style of Dominick’s approach had alerted the crew to his imminent arrival, and they were waiting for him, braced for attack. She turned toward Dominick as he skidded to a halt. "What in the nether regions is that?!" he bellowed.

It’s usually called a woman, Cap’n, Brentt said nonchalantly.

I know that, Dominick replied with clenched teeth, but what is it doing on my ship?

Theda stepped forward. I believe, she began, "that the proper question would be ‘what is she doing on my ship?’ "

Uh, oh, Brentt muttered under his breath.

Dominick didn’t even acknowledge that she had spoken. I’m waiting for an answer, he said with dangerous patience. Neeco?

Neeco almost jumped. Not my woman this time, to be sure, he said. Dominick started to say something, but Neeco cut him off. However, Varian, I believe, was about to enlighten you.

Dominick turned the full force of his anger onto the ship’s medic. Explanation!!

Theda needs passage to--

Get her off my ship!

But, Dominic--

"Get her off of my ship now!!" His face was flushed with fury.

But we’re in flux space! Varian exclaimed, his face showing defiance as well as fear.

That won’t stop him, Brentt laughed.

I repeat, get her off–.

I can pay my way.

Dominick stopped short. It was Theda who had spoken. The word pay had an almost magical effect on him, and he turned back to Varian with a slight smile on his faced. She can pay her way?

Yes, Theda replied. And I can speak for myself, too!

Dominick looked at her in person for the first time. He eyed her slim, smooth figure up and down, noticing her dark hair, dark skin, and even darker eyes. He finally remembered her from the cabaret, the woman who had unnerved Varian with her dancing. He said, Let’s see the color of your creds.

Theda reached down into a hidden pocket of her trousers, pulled out a small multi-colored stone, and held it up for him to see. Do you know what this is? she asked him.

Dominick snapped, Of course I’d recognize a spectrostone. Did you think I got to be captain of this ship by being a moron?

Her lips parted as if to speak; then she closed her mouth and merely smiled.

She said, I’ve heard that you have a problem with women on board? Varian paled at her boldness.

I don’t like them on my ship. They cause nothing but trouble.

You don’t think that perhaps the problem is with you?

Theda! Varian hissed.

Dominick smiled. The woman certainly had guts. No. I do not. Let’s just say I don’t like women, okay? Neeco began to laugh. "Uh, strike that. I just don’t like them on my ship."

Not even if they pay? Theda prodded.

Before Dominick could reply, there was a loud crashing sound from down the corridor. What was that? he said.

Sounds like the reptile is awake, Brentt replied.

I wouldn’t call him that if I were you. He’s a bit touchy about insults. I wouldn’t want to have to replace you. He’s a Lammadusian and his name is Troz.

"Then Troz the Lammadusian is awake and in your quarters, Brentt said, and from the racket you should check on him real quick."

"My quarters?! How did he get in there?!" Dominick demanded as he heard another crash.

He wandered in there and I didn’t bother to ask whether he wanted to move.

Another crash.

Come on, let’s go check on Sleeping Beauty! With his crew–-except for Varian, who stayed behind with Theda--following him, Dominick led the way to his cabin where Troz had lain in state.

When they reached the door of the cabin, the crewmen paused. There were frightful noises coming from inside. Well, what are you waiting for? Dominick asked them.

For you to go first, Brentt replied.

Dominick swore to himself and slammed a fist on the hatch button. Come on, you heroes, he muttered angrily as the door snapped open. They found Troz staggering around the cabin, holding his large scaley head in his equally large scaley hands, and groaning unintelligible phrases. The cabin itself was in a shambles, although not much worse than the shambles Dominick normally kept it in.

Feeling better? said Dominick.

Troz stopped reeling and flashed a dragonish expression that Dominick hoped was a grin. My head feels as if a Manuto slipspear was driven through it, he moaned, trying to focus his eyes on the captain. Where am I?

My ship.

What happened to the bar? Troz asked.

You mean what’s left of it?

Never mind.

By the way, Dominick continued, regaining his courage, you owe me some money. I don’t give free passage to anyone, much less criminals.

Then I am in your debt, Troz replied with a gentlemanly bow.

You blasted well are, Dominick said firmly. And you can get your green backside out of my cabin. Neeco, show him the ‘VIP’ suite. He turned on his heels and marched out. Everyone followed him out, leaving Neeco with Troz.

What’s the ‘VIP suite’? Troz asked.

A Prison Transport Crate, Neeco told him. C’mon, I’ll show you where Brentt bunks down. He doesn’t care if he has a roommate or not; he always sleeps like the dead anyway.

--------------------

Back in the saloon, Varian looked at Theda’s spectrostone, a chicken egg sized chunk of a mineral found only on a few worlds, but valued rather highly for its beauty. Its color changed along with its surroundings, and it was extremely popular with the fashionable set. Of course, a raw stone like Theda’s wasn’t worth as much as one half as big that was properly cut, but it still had to be of considerable value.

Varian couldn’t resist asking, Where did you get the stone?

Theda tossed it up in the air casually and caught it with a deft hand. I stole it, she said simply.

Varian felt his stomach lurch, his fears realized. He sat down in a chair. "It’s stolen?" he asked, knowing full well that asking wouldn’t change the fact.

She nodded. That’s why I had to get off the planet so fast. You know what the penalty for grand larceny is in the League?

Varian nodded weakly. So, he said in a small voice, "you decided to leave the planet on a bounty hunter’s ship?"

Well... She smiled and tucked the stone away in a pocket. "It wasn’t the ideal way to go, but I figured who would look for me on a bounty hunter’s ship?"

Bounty hunters?

She sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. Don’t worry, she said. "No one will know it’s gone for at