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  “Human,” the Yollin sputtered.

  “And?” Stephen nodded toward the cloaked figure behind the Yollin’s chair.

  “No idea,” he admitted.

  “Well,” Stephen leaned forward, “I’ll tell you. My name is Stephen, but if you don’t know the humans who run the Etheric Empire it will mean nothing to you.” Sure enough, the blank stare of the Yollin confirmed he didn’t know anything about the political makeup of the Etheric Empire and Yoll.

  He prepared to take another bite. “I’ll let the one who is causing you such pain introduce themself.”

  As Stephen bit in, the hooded head leaned closer to the tough’s ear and the raspy voice said, “Hello, Th’ehngnock. My name is Baba Yaga.”

  That is interesting, Stephen sent Bethany Anne. I didn’t know Yollins could turn pink.

  Only if they are seriously sick, she replied. You should probably get out more. Do you need to prepare to jump out of the way?

  Possibly, he replied. He watched as the Yollin barely got his fear under control. A few moments later, Stephen calculated it would be ok. “I see you know who my friend is.” The Yollin clicked his mandibles together. “Good, then this will go more smoothly.”

  The Yollin pulled his hand back, and Bethany Anne stopped squeezing so hard.

  “Let’s go back to Question Number One. If you know who Baba Yaga is, you know she comes from the Empress, and the Empress is not fond of her subjects engaging in illegal activities.” Th’ehngnock nodded his head. He seemed to be focused on trying to keep his wits together. “What were you doing that caused Baba Yaga to find you?”

  “I was about to rough up a Torcellan for some lunch money,” he admitted.

  “Why? Don’t you have a job?” Stephen asked, gently probing the Yollin’s surface thoughts.

  “I had one,” he replied, his shoulders slumping, “but another company came in and fired all us Yollins.”

  “Whyyyy?” grated the person behind Th’ehngnock.

  “Rumor says they don’t like Empies,” he answered her. “Says we can’t be trusted.”

  Stephen subvocalized on their private channel, “Shinigami, run a query on Th’ehngnock’s previous employer, ‘Deech Core Services.’”

  “Why did you not reach out to the Empire?” Stephen asked the Yollin. “We have placement support.”

  Th’ehngnock looked at Stephen. “The slave transport services?”

  “Whattt?” Bethany Anne grated. “Why do you call it that?”

  Th’ehngnock flinched. “Because the rules say you have to work for the company for a year if you use them to go to another location.”

  Her voice lost a little of the grating quality. “You have to stay employed for a year at your new job. That isn’t a slave position.” Bethany Anne thought about his comment. “What are the rumors about the company?”

  The Yollin shrugged. “You have to take what they give you, they ship you who-knows-where, and you have to stay there a year.”

  Cheryl-Lynn has some work to do. Stephen could see Bethany Anne’s eyes narrow under her hood. I am not pleased.

  Devon is an out-of-the-way location. By the time any directive reaches this place, it could be substantially twisted. This planet is not under the protection of any major group. It is effectively a company planet, Stephen reminded her. The word of those in power here is the law.

  Bethany Anne released Th’ehngnock’s shoulder and stood taller. “Shinigami, do you have my information?”

  “Yes, Baba Yaga. The company was purchased by intermediaries of Capital Bank and Commissions three months ago. They have been quietly purchasing additional companies.”

  “What are the common factors?” Bethany Anne asked.

  “They all seem to be related to land, mining, or refining,” Shinigami replied.

  “Follow the money, indeed,” Stephen murmured. “Did they find another lode, or is this anticipation?”

  “Give me a few minutes,” the EI responded. “I’m going to have to break into a few databases to figure out that answer.”

  Stephen looked at his hooded empress. “Why does it not surprise me he didn’t even ask?”

  “We get shit done,” she replied. Th’ehngnock’s mandibles clicked together when she spoke so close to him again. “I have no compunction about that kind of stuff when it involves illegal activities.”

  Be careful, Stephen told her. That is a slippery slope.

  Perhaps for the Empress, she replied, but I’m not that person right now.

  Yes, but Baba Yaga is here with the Empress’ permission. I’m not suggesting we don’t do it, but rather that you take a moment or three to realize how frequently you ignore the laws.

  Stephen could feel her thinking a moment.

  “Shinigami?” she called on their private three-way channel.

  “Yes?”

  “Is this business openly traded on the markets?”

  “Yes. There are markets here for the smaller companies, and the larger ones are part of a stock consortium.”

  “Buy them,” she told the EI. “Use my personal assets, I don’t want this traced back to the Empire.”

  “You will lose an additional thirteen-point four percent in transaction fees if you have me route the money to make the purchaser mostly untraceable,” the EI replied.

  “Why the mostly clarification?” she asked.

  “There are a few people who might be able to put the different entities together, but the chance is small.”

  “What kind of risk are we talking about here? I can afford to run it through a few more.”

  “Approximately 1/1000 of a percent.”

  “Wait,” Stephen interjected. “You are saying there’s a 1/1000 of one percent chance of discovery with a thirteen-point-four percent transaction fee premium?”

  “Correct.”

  “What about if you drop it to one …”

  “Stop,” Bethany Anne interjected. “Shinigami, what percent of my personal assets will be used to complete this transaction?”

  “Eight-point-four percent.”

  “Do it, and make it happen as quickly as possible,” she responded. “When you have enough of a majority interest in the company,” she glanced at Stephen, “I want you to plunder the shit out of my databases.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Happy? Bethany Anne asked.

  Well, this wasn’t what my warning was about, so why did you do it?

  You mentioned before that this planet is out in the middle of nowhere and it is company-owned. What better place to relax and do some good when I want to get away?

  Stephen shook his head. I’m not sure I understand.

  Don’t worry, old friend. I’m going to be so damned rich…

  You already are.

  Yes, but this is a hunch, and I’m going to have to implement change here on this planet to make it pay off. Consider it a pet project for ‘Bethany Anne, Do-Gooder,’ not Empress Bethany Anne.

  Stephen looked at her for a few moments, silent.

  Figured it out yet? she asked him.

  No.

  That bugs you?

  Yes.

  It’s ok. Slow mental synapse response is a condition that comes normally with age. You have other issues to look forward to as well. She looked around, absentmindedly tapping Th’ehngnock on the shoulder. She turned back to see Stephen watching Th’ehngnock’s reaction. So, is there like an old vampires’ home for you when you get too old and decrepit to get the job done?

  Stephen stood up. “Th’ehngnock,” he nodded to the hooded figure, “you didn’t see her, until we contact you.”

  “And we will contact you.” She leaned down and hissed in his ear, “You are coming to work for me.”

  Th’ehngnock’s face looked so pink Stephen thought it would bloom flowers. “P-people are going to talk. They p-probably already know a l-lot about you here,” he told them, stuttering a little in fear. “I’m trying not to.

  “Your first paycheck is
in your account,” she continued. “Go back and pay those you stole from, with twenty-percent interest. I will not have that stain on your soul when you are in my employ. Do not displease me,” she finished, patting him on his shoulder. “The firing process is quite painful.”

  Leaving Th’ehngnock in the courtyard, the two disappeared into the crowd.

  “I can’t wait to see your HR Policies booklet,” Stephen told her as they took the stairs back up to the better sections of the city.

  “It will be very simple,” she replied, “since it has only one rule. ‘Don’t displease Baba Yaga.’”

  “I see …”

  “You said this was a company planet.”

  “Yes, but there are other companies here besides yours.”

  “When I finish, there won’t be,” she told him, exiting one set of stairs and heading to the next. “Baba Yaga doesn’t like to share her planets.”

  “Uh huh,” Stephen replied.

  “And I’m instituting a ‘Coke Only’ rule.”

  “Why does this not surprise me?”

  “Because I’m very consistent,” she told him. “I’m told it’s the mark of a great leader.”

  “Well, you are consistently a pain in the ass,” Stephen told her. “Does that count?”

  Both were quiet for two flights of stairs before Bethany Anne griped aloud, “I need to have a real talk with Jennifer. She has simply got to put you back together the way you were before.”

  Behind her, Stephen smiled. I might win my bet with Jennifer yet.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Commercial Space Station One-One-Dash-Four-Zed, also known as ‘the Ass-end of Nowhere’

  Jerrleck finished his business in the restroom and replaced his head covering. He grabbed his walking support, limped through the doorway, and moved slowly into the stream of those walking the passageways. Some were going from ship to ship, others to meetings, or had myriad other reasons that caused them to be out and about in the huge space station.

  He looked behind himself. “They need a damned janitor.” He considered the sheer bulk of the station. “Or a hundred,” he said, under his breath, as he glanced once more at the mess.

  Some minutes later he turned down a passageway which was a little grimier than the others. It was lined with multiple doors to eating establishments. Occasionally there would be a store for drugs, or a specialty food shop, but Jerrleck didn’t care about any of those.

  He walked toward the end of the hallway, the dirt getting worse the farther he travelled. He came to the door of a small eatery that had a symbol rather than a name. Stepping inside, he closed and locked the door after glancing around the room. Before turning back to the room he turned a knob, changing the sign to CLOSED.

  Making his way to the back, he found the shop owner and his wife arguing about the ingredients for the nightly special, bishtellek stew. Both looked up and nodded to him. “You took care of the door?”

  Jerrleck nodded.

  “Good, good. Let us know when we can open again.”

  “I will,” he replied, and went to a back room. Stepping inside, he noted that the metal walls were much cleaner here. He slid the tablecloth off and flicked on a power switch that was hidden underneath. A screen embedded in the tabletop lit up, and Jerrleck set aside his cane and sat down.

  It took him twenty minutes of searching to find a clue as to where he could locate a possible contact for the Etheric Empire.

  He turned off the machine and replaced the table cloth. As he limped back out he nodded to the proprietors again. They were still arguing as they cut up some roots to place in water. He flicked the knob to turn the sign to OPEN.

  Now he needed to find a quick ride to Devon and see if the rumors coming from the little planet held any truth.

  Baba Yaga, the Empress’ avenger, and one of the most hated adversaries of the Leath, was just a gate-jump away.

  Maybe.

  Devon

  The large Zhyn businessman picked up a smoke stick from the desk in front of him. When Lerr’ek was in the military he had abhorred drugs or recreational drinking, but that was then. Now out of the military and using his skills for operations and the occasional negotiation through applied force, his consortium was slowly taking over this small planet.

  “Are you saying,” he ground out, looking at the Noel-ni in front of him, “that our people aren’t doing their jobs?”

  Faleepio shrugged, baring his dagger-like teeth. “Lerr’ek, we missed the arrival of the Bad Company representatives who came to check on the Estarian. When I looked into it I found he had had premiere care, so we were right in our deduction that he was important.” The Noel-ni sported crisscrossed leather straps with clips on them. At his waist were two holsters for pistols, and his cap supported a red HUD reticle that covered his right eye. “We have descriptions.”

  “Well, Faleepio …” The Zhyn’s deep voice was a marked contrast to this Noel-ni’s almost chittering speech pattern. “Don’t keep me waiting. I’ve got a planet to take over, a few more companies to strong-arm into selling out, and a secret base to construct. It’s not like I’m busy here or anything.”

  “We have video of a human male and another figure, probably human but covered in a robe, having a discussion in area three-one-six,” Faleepio replied.

  “That cesspool?” Lerr’ek asked. “I’m not sure we need to waste our time if they were visiting down there.”

  “They were with a Yollin whose face was pink.”

  Lerr’ek stared at him. “So?”

  “Lerr’ek, sometimes you need to focus on the small details of the aliens you deal with.”

  Lerr’ek pulled the smoke stick from his mouth. “Bah! I fire them instead,” he replied. “You know I don’t like Yollins. Too close to the Empire.” He glared at his partner. “But you are going to tell me about pink Yollin faces anyway, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, because it may matter in the future.” Faleepio walked over to the wall of windows in Lerr’ek’s office and enjoyed the view of the massive city. There was a lot that could be done here, if you knew where to hide the bodies. “Very rarely, you can make a Yollin so afraid that their face will go pink.”

  “Ok, what am I missing?” Lerr’ek asked. “I know Yollins don’t scare easily, and I’ve never made any of them so scared they went pink.”

  “Neither have I,” Faleepio admitted. He turned from the window. “And that has me wondering what would scare a Yollin so bad that this would occur?”

  Lerr’ek moved a pile of papers from his left to his working pile. “I don’t know. That’s your job.” He looked up. “I trust you will handle these visitors?”

  “That was always the plan, Lerr’ek.” Faleepio waved over his shoulder as he started for the office door. “You make sure the businesses run, I make sure we don’t have bumps in our path.”

  “Very good.” Lerr’ek nodded as the door shut behind his partner. “Now, who was I closing a deal with today?”

  —

  The almost albino-white human-looking alien with purple eyes looked back and forth between the human and the robed figure. “I’m telling you, the Zhyn is going to come for my business later this morning.”

  “We know, Fre’dhom,” Stephen told him. “We also know he’s only offering you centicredits on the credit. We are here to offer you ...”

  The robed figure jumped into the negotiation. “Eighty percent of value,” it said. Stephen looked at it with a raised eyebrow when it continued speaking. “Eighty percent is better than the ten or twenty percent Fre’dhom will be offering. We have to consider our costs to keep the business, I hope you understand.” There was a shrug from the robed one. “Highly forceful negotiations occasionally require post-negotiation cleanup.”

  “I’m sure I don’t want to know what you are speaking about.” The Torcellan sighed. “I suspect you have the funds necessary and the palms already greased to make this happen?”

  The robed figure pulled a tablet from underneat
h its robes and handed it to Fre’dhom. His eyes blinked twice when he realized the tips of the black gloves were gone, and revealing fingertips with almost space-black skin. He looked up into the robes, where the light reflected from white teeth.

  Sharp white teeth.

  He swallowed as he looked back at the tablet. The contract started with a simple summary that bound the rest of the document to mean the same thing. He would receive eighty percent of the value of his business, funds deposited on signature, for all his employees, payroll, stock, inventory, raw materials, drilling leases, and drilling rights. All employees would remain on the payroll, as would he for a period of a quarter-year. It offered a healthy bonus if he stayed on.

  “We want you to immediately move yourself to an office outside of town,” Stephen told him. “There is no reason for you to be here when we tell the other suitor he cannot have your business.”

  Fre’dhom looked up. “Who are you really?” He used the tablet to point at the people in the office. “How do I know you aren’t worse than the Zhyn?”

  “It depends on whether you trust the Empire or not,” the robed figure stated.

  “They have always played fair, as much as I can tell,” Fre’dhom answered. “But this is far outside their area of space, and we aren’t beholden to them or anyone else. It is one of the reasons those of us who don’t fit in with our people love it here. We can be who we wish to be.”

  “That is why I like it as well,” the robed figure agreed. “Can you keep a secret?”

  There was a pause before the Torcellan nodded. The robed figured lifted off its hood and allowed it to drop behind the white hair.

  Fre’dhom stared.

  Baba Yaga smiled. “Perhaps you are not the only being who savors the opportunity to get out of the Empire every once in a while.”

  “You really are going to tell the Zhyn he can’t have this business, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “That and more, Fre’dhom,” she assured him. “The Zhyn has already been fired. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  Fre’dhom lifted the tablet and tapped the signature page. He pressed his finger to the screen, then provided an audio agreement. “There.” He handed the tablet back to Baba Yaga. “I’m either the craziest Torcellan in existence, or the bravest.”