As the Juirean shuttle approached Silea, the comm unit began to blow up with calls from the government, requesting destination, purpose, accommodations requested and more. Riyad answered none of them. Instead, he had located a quick emergency exit off the main cargo bay that he would use for his escape once on-planet.
He was in the pilothouse, bringing the small shuttle in toward one of Dargor’s major spaceports. Then at the last minute, he changed course, setting the ship down quick and hard in one of the outlying freight ports, about fifteen kilometers from his original destination. It would take the authorities at least an hour or so to regroup and send the official greeting party to this new location.
Once down, Riyad slipped out through the emergency exit and mingled with the other spacers who were coming and going in the port. It was nearing dusk, so his movements went unnoticed. He made it through the main gate of the facility by mixing with a group of noisy Sileans anxious to get home to their mates — or to the nearest bar.
Once in the city, he separated from the group and set off down a side alley to carry out the second part of his plan for recovering his money. The first part had been to get on the planet without being apprehended aboard a Juirean shuttle. Since he had no credits, the second part of his plan had to do with securing some, at least enough to get him to his final destination.
Riyad stationed himself in a side alley, near a crowded and boisterous tavern, and then waited.
It wasn’t long before two creatures of unknown origin left the bar and headed his way. They were dressed in modestly expensive robes and were even foolish enough to be displaying gold jewelry on their wrists and dangling from their ears. From their gait, Riyad knew they had been partaking in the excellent intoxicants Silea had to offer. These two would be perfect.
As they came upon the alley, Riyad slipped in behind them, grabbed the backs of their fancy robes and spun them into the alley.
Twisting his head and body to regain his balance, the tallest of the pair focused on Riyad. “You should refrain, else we rip your head from its socket,” the creature growled at Riyad. “You have picked the wrong Lonilans to attack!”
Riyad had never heard of Lonilans before, but he didn’t care. He was in a hurry. Riyad swung with his right hand, and the unfortunate creature did not even see it approach in the dark of the alley. Riyad heard the crack of bone, and the being collapsed with a thud on the paved street. His companion had not seen the blow, either. So he lunged at Riyad, attempting to grab him around the neck. Riyad sweep his left arm across his body, easily brushing away the limbs of the Lonilan. Then he chopped down at the base of the creature’s head and neck, sending this one also to the pavement.
Riyad quickly rifled through their pockets and robes and found a money belt on each. He emptied the contents into the pockets of the utility coveralls he wore and tossed the empty belts on the unconscious aliens. This money would tie him over until he could get to his five million credits.
Leaving the two corpses where they lie, Riyad hurried down the street for about a kilometer before hailing a transport. He gave the driver the address, then leaned back in the rear seat and began to flesh out part three of his plan to get his money.
Over the years, Riyad had made a lot of credits as the leader of the Fringe Pirates. The bulk of this fortune had been on K’ly when the Juireans first attacked. Those credits were lost. Then he had another sizeable stash on Dimloe. And now that, too, was gone. But over the years, he had also been secretly sending deposits to be held by the head of the Silean underworld, a fat blob of a creature named Kroekus. That was it — just Kroekus. Riyad reasoned that if you were powerful enough, you only needed one name. Everyone knew of Kroekus, and no one messed with him.
Riyad had never met him face-to-face, but they had been tacit partners in many a criminal adventure for years. Kroekus was the Fringe Pirate’s major fence. He could move any merchandise, from gold ornaments to starships. And he also had the most-secure bank in the Fringe; even the Jurieans would have trouble tracking all the movements of the credits within his system. Riyad’s money would be safe, even if it came with a very steep fee of twenty percent.
Riyad reasoned that gaining an audience with Kroekus shouldn’t be too difficult, not after he dropped his name and affiliation. And there would be plenty of references to be made that would verify his identity, even though he carried nothing official with him.
The only concern Riyad had with walking into Kroekus’s stronghold was the fact that he had no weapon, nothing but his human abilities. They had never failed him before, but this time he was confronting the most-powerful criminal in the entire Fringe. And if an issue arose, he would surely be outnumbered a hundred to one.
It was well past dark when the transport dropped Riyad off in front of a massive complex of office buildings, yet even at this hour, most of the windows in the four-story building still exploded with light. The pirate knew eyes were upon him the moment he stepped from the transport, so he confidently walked up the short flight of stairs to the main entrance. As expected, four armed Silean guards approached as the large glass doors slid shut behind him.
“Your business?” one of the brown-leather uniformed guards asked, while suspiciously eyeing Riyad’s laborer coveralls.
“I am here to see Kroekus. I am-”
The guard laughed. “Do you have an appointment, at this hour?”
“Relay to Kroekus that Riyad Tarazi is here to see him.” Riyad stood a little taller and tried to sound as forceful as possible. Even though he was dressed in a clothing of a common laborer, he needed to make the guards believe he was more than he appeared.
“It is late. If you do not have an appointment I will not disturb The Menormor.” A Menormor was the Silean equivalent of a CEO.
Riyad’s dark eyes focused on the guard. “I am Riyad Tarazi, leader of The Fringe Pirates, here on a very important matter of The Menormor’s concern.” He leaned in close to the guard, as the others around him gripped their weapons tighter. “You will be risking not only your job, but also your life, if you do not relay the message.” Riyad’s unblinking eyes burned into those of the guard’s.
Momentarily stunned by Riyad’s intensity, the Silean soon recovered his composure. “I will relay the message,” he said defiantly. “But if Kroekus will not see you, then we will have our way with you, pirate, if that is what you really are.”
Satisfied, Riyad relaxed and stood stoically as the call was made. He did not want his nervousness to show. He wasn’t even sure Kroekus was in the building. At any moment, he may have to fight his way out of the building.
The guard spoke for a moment on the comm unit, and then turned to Riyad. “He asks where would your pirates be located today, if you are indeed the pirate leader.”
Riyad had nothing to lose revealing the location now, not after the Juirean attack. So without hesitation, he said, “Dimloe.”
The guard spoke on the unit again, then suddenly become very nervous. He kept nodding to the person on the other end of the link, and then finally turned to Riyad. “Please follow me. I will escort you to the office.”
Riyad said nothing, except to display a disgusted sigh as the guard led him down a long corridor, through four secure doors, past numerous other guards, and then finally through a set of wide, ornate double doors.
The big Silean did not rise from his seat behind the massive desk, but motioned for the guard to leave them in private and for Riyad to have a seat in front of the desk.
“So, are you really Riyad Tarazi?” Kroekus bellowed out. He seemed almost jovial with his comment.
“Of course I am. You would not have let me in here if you had your doubts.”
Kroekus laughed out loud and slapped the desk. “You are correct, Tarazi. It’s just with the events of the past few days, I was sure you were dead.”
“So you’ve heard?”
Kroekus grinned, displaying some of his teeth in a show of strength. “I hear everything. It seems you underestimated the strength and determination of the Juireans. Now what are you to do? Your pirate fleet is no more.”
“There are still remnants. I will rebuild. And that is one of the reasons I came here. I need my credits.”
“Yes, of course,” Kroekus said, pressing a button on his desk which caused a small monitor to rotate out of its surface. “You have a sizeable deposit with us, but hardly enough to rebuild a fleet of lost pirate ships.”
Riyad leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. “Let me worry about how I do it. My core is still intact,” he lied.
“Yes, that was a devastating blow to your organization. And you know the Juireans are sending in even more reinforcements. I doubt if they will let your pirates achieve their previous status.”
Riyad tried to look as nonchalant as possible, even though he did not like the direction the conversation was taking. Kroekus seemed to be toying with him, taunting him.
“Like I said, I will worry about that.”
“But we have worked together — at a distance — for a long while now. Many of my operations rely on your pirate organization. I see that the current state of your organization could cause me to suffer financially.” He paused for affect before continuing. “How do you propose we remedy this situation?”
Riyad was afraid this was coming. He had exploited weakness before himself, when he sensed he had the advantage, and Kroekus was sensing the same weakness in him. After all, who could a criminal complain to if he were ripped off?
“I understand that it may be a while before I can be of assistance to you again, so in the interim, let’s say we increase your fee to twenty-five percent of the deposit.”
Kroekus grimaced. “An extra five percent hardly seems like fair compensation. I believe it should be a little higher than that.”
Riyad was growing madder by the minute, but he held his composure. “Then by all means, let’s agree on a number, say forty percent. That seems more than fair simply for holding my money.”
Just then a buzzer sounded on Kroekus’ comm. He flashed anger and smashed his hand down on the control. “I am in a negotiation! Do not disturb me.”
“Sorry, Menormor, but you asked to be told when the two beings from earlier arrived back to see you.” The voice on the comm was trembling.
Kroekus pressed a button and the monitor on his desk switched from the readout of Riyad’s account to a view of the waiting area outside his office. Standing in the middle of the room were the two assassins, Sherri Valentine and Adam Cain.
Looking at the monitor, Kroekus suddenly experienced an epiphany. He had never met the pirate leader before; they had communicated quite often, but always at arm’s length as to keep their association secret. Before now he had never even questioned the pirate’s race. Now looking at Riyad — and seeing two of the deadliest assassins in The Fringe standing in his waiting room — he suddenly felt a chill course through his body.
He pressed another button under the rim of his desk, and then spoke to Riyad. “I think that in light of the demise of your pirate force, that a more equitable division of your credits would be closer to one-hundred percent!”
Riyad stood up. “Bullshit, Kroekus! That’s my money.”
“Maybe you should have been more subtle then, rather than bring in your two cohorts to back you up!”
“What are you talking about?”
A side door suddenly slid open and three armed guards rushed into the room. They leveled their MK’s at Riyad. Without hesitation, Riyad rushed them, and before the targeting computers could lock onto his position, crashed into the three of them with the force a bull. Like bowling pins, the guards fell hard against the wall, as Riyad rolled over them, grabbing a weapon from one of them as he did so. He came up firing, blasting two of the guards in the chest before turning the weapon on Kroekus.
But he was already gone. His chair was gone, too, having spirited the crime lord away through an emergency exit in the wall behind his desk.
Then Riyad heard what sounded like hooves on a tile floor, growing ever louder. Suddenly, the doorway that the guards had emerged through exploded into the room, as two four-legged beasts crashed through it. The animals were huge, with two stubby horns on their thick heads. Resembling large dogs, they also had bear-like snouts displaying four-inch long teeth.
The two creatures butted their heads into Riyad’s chest, sending him flying across the room. Luckily, he held onto the weapon, but before he could bring it up to aim, one of the beasts rammed him again, sending him flying once more, this time crashing through the wall of the office and into the waiting area.