Harry sat on the cot with his knees hugged to his chest. He stared at the four metal walls of his cell and wondered just how much money they were asking for. There was also another important question, namely if his captors really had any intention of releasing him. Humans were still rare in the galaxy at large, and in addition to any ransom he’d be worth quite a bit ‘on the hoof’ to sell to some warlord somewhere. In that case, the best he could hope for was to become something like a glorified exotic pet, something the bastard could show off to his cronies. At worst? Well, the worst case shouldn’t be dwelt on.
He leaned back and thunked his head against the metal wall behind him in silent self-reprimand. There were no two ways about it; he’d been bloody careless by not bringing along a bodyguard. Although, from what he’d overheard from his two kidnappers they’d had a contingency plan in place. Maybe he’d saved Prnaana’shan from death? Maybe the big Jornissian could have taken the two of them out. The maybes twisted back and forth in his head until he finally gave up and rested his forehead on his knees.
Back when Harry was a kid, his favorite reading material was pulp adventures; whether set in some mysterious ancient ruin or in space, it didn’t matter. Now, if he was the two-fisted hero of such a story he’d have already figured out six different ways to overpower his captors or blow a hole in the cell using an improvised bomb formed out of safety pins, piss, and duct tape.
The door slid open with a faint hiss. The smaller Dorarizin entered, still clad in her all-concealing black costume. She held a tray, upon which sat a bowl of something which looked like meat-gruel and a big cup of water. Both items were plastic, of course, so no chance of smashing glass or crockery to form an improvised weapon.
“[Dinner time!]” said the Dorarizin with surprising cheer in her electronically-distorted voice. “[I hope Dorarizin army rations will be palatable. This is some pitcher-cake stew.]”
Harry glared at her as she set the tray on the cot beside him. At least they’d given him a spoon. She stared at him for a moment, whatever expression she wore concealed behind her featureless helmet. Harry figured she was taking a picture just to show he was still alive. Maybe it was foolish, but he had to say something.
“I know that’s you, Princess. You may as well take the helmet off.”
“[I have no idea who you’re referring to. Feel free to think I’m this ‘Princess’ of yours.]”
As she turned to go, Harry’s next snarled words rooted her to the spot. His anger was such that a bit of his native accent started to seep into his speech.
“I know how you did it, bitch. You put your fookin’ hand on my shoulder, right before you left. At the time I thought it was a nice gesture. But there was something on your palm, wasn’t there? A little fleck of nanotech, something that interfaced with my suit. Something that interfered with the alarm and tracking systems.”
The Dorarizin didn’t turn around. “[Only a theory. Please eat, you need to keep up your strength.]”
Harry wasn’t fooled by her motherly doting. “You’re not letting me go after this, are you? Not even when you get the money. I’ve seen too much. You’re going to have the entire Senate after your asses.” He waved at her black costume as she slowly turned back to face him. “This disguise crap here is just to keep me at ease until you get your cash.”
He grinned without humor, showing his teeth. “So what’s after that, hmm? Sell me off to some rich bastard outside of Senate space? At least make sure they’re not going to use me as an exotic fucktoy.”
She took a step forward, her fists clenched. Her electronic voice acquired a harsher buzz as she shouted. “[I would NEVER…]” Slowly, she unclenched her fists and her fuzzed-out tail lowered. “[You are mistaken. You’ll soon be reunited with your friends.]”
“We humans have a saying, Princess, and I don’t fookin’ care if it translates or not. Don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s raining.”
His captor spun on her heel and stalked out of the cell. From her body language she looked like she really wanted to slam the automatic door. After the door hissed softly closed, Harry let out a bitter chuckle.
“I knew it was you, bitch,” he said to the empty air. Then he checked the tray and the items upon it. As he suspected, it was all made of flimsy plastic and useless for weapons…except maybe the spoon? He’d seen enough prison movies to know that they could make dandy shanks. On the other hand, his kidnappers knew they’d given him the spoon and would be looking to get it back.
The next question was whether to eat or not. A hunger strike might give him some leverage, although he guessed if he persisted in that course of action they’d hold him down and force-feed him. He was worth nothing to them dead.
He picked up the tray and held it in his lap as he contemplated his options. Surely they had him under observation, too. Thus he’d have to be sneaky about trying anything. After a few minutes of musing, he stood up and with great ceremony carried the tray over to the corner holding the ‘facilities’. He tapped on the proper spot with his foot, and just as promised a human-style toilet unfolded itself from the wall and its bowl promptly filled with water.
With a dignity that even Jevnar would have approved of, he plucked the bowl of stew off of the tray and upended it over the bowl. The meaty lump let out a soft gloop as it let go of its bowl and then plopped into the water.
Immediately the disguised voice of the other Dorarizin filled his cell. “[What are you doing?]”
“Pitcher-cakes give me the wind somethin’ fierce.” Harry then picked up the cup of water and drained it. “Gotta keep hydrated, though.” He dropped the cup, spoon, and bowl into the toilet and folded the thin tray in half with a crackle of breaking plastic. The human then began using the tray as an improvised plunger, except instead of trying to remove a blockage he was trying to create one. The tray wasn’t strong enough, and cracked after a few shoves. So he knelt, shoving both his hands into the mess of meat and broken plastic to force everything down into the bowl.
“[Stop that at once!]”
“Make me, fleabag.” The words were barely out of his mouth when he heard the door hiss open. Harry just managed to tap the control for flushing before he felt two huge paws wrap around his midsection. The cell spun as the bigger Dorarizin all but threw him back onto the cot.
Harry let out a whoof as the impact drove the air from his lungs. Meanwhile the Dorarizin regarded the toilet, then planted her paws on her hips and laughed. “[Didn’t do you much good. That plastic's designed to dissolve in water.]”
As Harry struggled to his elbows, he saw that the toilet was clear. “Eh, it was worth a shot.”
The large Dorarizin turned towards him. “[For what purpose?]”
Harry sneered up at her. “To piss you off.”
She held up an admonishing finger. “[Make no mistake, our patience is not endless. Any more acting out and we’ll tie you up. No [bathroom breaks] either, you’ll just have to sit there and soil yourself.]”
Harry sat up with a groan and flipped her off with a proper backwards-V of his fingers.
The Dorarizin didn’t respond with words, she just shook her head and left the room while grumbling under her breath.
After the door closed again, Harry lay back on the cot and surreptitiously tucked his purloined spoon into the waistband of his pants. Its brief contact with water had smoothed off some of its surface, but there was still enough material left to work with. Now all he had to do was figure out how to sharpen the spoon while also keeping it out of sight of any cameras.
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Driver, Jevnar and Jnsnrnan’sn’ah regarded the bridge screen in mute, grim determination. The screen showed a picture a [Harry], sitting with his knees against his chest on a cot in a featureless metal room. A tray of food and water sat placed beside him.
Jnsnrnan’sn’ah read aloud the Karnakian text at the top of the picture. “[He is unharmed and well-cared for. We will release him for a sum of GRC to be placed into the following bank account within [twelve hours].]” He looked at the bottom of the screen and his hood quirked in puzzlement. “[We are asking for…two billion? That doesn’t make sense. That's far too low an amount.]”
Jevnar leaned forward on his fists. “{It’s still a huge sum. Can we acquire it from Sir’s accounts?}”
The lawyer nodded. “[I have sufficient power of attorney, and I can get together that amount in a few hours with ease. But they must know how much he’s worth, and they know they’ve got a superior grasp on our hood. This could be a much higher demand.]”
Jevnar resisted the urge to pace; instead, he leaned back and stroked a thoughtful claw next to one ear. “{There are no instructions for contacting them to negotiate. Plus they must know they’re under a time limit due to the Senate teams now on the way. Maybe they’re hoping we’ll pay a smaller amount without delay rather than having to wait for us to pull together a larger amount.}”
Kant’nat’s crest lay flat against his head in stress as he turned from his station. “[No joy on tracing the picture’s origin, either. [Prnaana’shan] scrambled a security team to the location I traced; they found a datapad plugged into the router in question. Nothing else identifiable on it, of course.]” After pausing, he chirped up again. “[But, I was able to track that bank account number. It’s in a minor bank in Karnakian space.]”
“{A clumsy ruse,}” growled Jevnar. “{Trying to throw us off the scent by making it appear [Karnakians] are behind this. I wager that account is established under a false identity, and as soon as we deposit the ransom it’ll disappear.}” He gave in to his instincts and began to pace in front of the screen. “{We must act quickly; if [Whrnsnnanth’nan] suspects that her agent on board is compromised, who knows what they’ll do?}”
“[But why?]” Shnhsnrnan cried out in frustration. “[Why do all of this?]”
“{Money,}” replied Jevnar with finality. “{I’m afraid the motive is mere money. Two billion is not much for Sir, but it would make a lovely and untraceable slush-fund for her organization, one that she doesn’t have to report to any legislature. I suspect our princess was at first tasked with seducing Sir and siphoning off some of his money that way. When that failed, they resorted to something much more direct.}”
Jnsnrnan’sn’ah cleared his throat. “[We…could just pay it, yes? I know it’s not a good option, but we’d get [Harry] back.]”
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Jevnar rounded on the lawyer and made ready to curse the man for his naivete, then paused and subsided. The Jornissian simply didn’t know any better. “{I have been…involved in situations like this in the past. Returning the victim creates a huge risk for the kidnappers. The victim’s own implant recordings cause the chance of arrest to rise exponentially, even if the kidnappers disguise themselves.}” He pointed at Sir’s forlorn picture. “{Sir has such an implant. He is also a tiny-chomper; the Senate will not spare any expense in ensuring his captors are brought to justice.}”
Kant’nat’s voice was hushed in the silence on the bridge. “[Will they…kill him?]”
“{Unlikely. Sir is worth far more alive than dead. If I was them and possessed no moral compass, I’d take him beyond Senate space and sell him.}”
Shnhsnrnan dropped her hands to her sides. “[To the netherworld with that! I’ll skin that [bitch] myself!]”
“{You shall have to get in line, Madame,}” replied Jevnar with a toothy, humorless smile.
The elevator doors slid open and Snnanfnthan’hal’s green-scaled length darted out with a quickness that made Jevnar almost bark at her to mind her speed. Driver was on the bridge, after all. But then he saw the triumphant grin on her face.
“[Bagged ‘em!]” she called out. She gestured to the main screen, and with a command from her implant Sir’s picture was replaced with an ID photo showing a large, glowering Dorarizin.
The paralegal continued. “[[Grznagh-of-Ngnat]. Most certainly not her real name. Independently wealthy with a diverse portfolio. Primarily holds stock in one particular business concern, the Hrssnath Armory.]”
Jevnar stared at the picture of the sour-faced suspect, committing every detail to his prodigious memory. “{Let me guess, our princess also has stake in this [Jornissian] company.}”
“[Yep. And guess who just arrived here on Gnranth-Eight four days ago, on board their own ship?]”
Jevnar stood and cracked his knuckles together. “{Do we have a current location for this ‘Grznagh’?}”
“[She’s registered at an inn close to the races.]”
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As it turned out, Thunderbird One’s orbit took it directly over both the inn in question as well as the spaceport. Her sensors might not be state-of-the-art compared to a modern dreadnaught, but they were still capable of taking high-resolution photos of both places.
The bridge crew regarded the spaceport photo first. The narrow wedge of Grznagh’s ship was small enough to park directly on the ground, which led to an obvious question from Jnsnrnan’sn’ah.
“[Why rent a room? Why not stay on board her ship?]”
Kant’nat responded before Jevnar had a chance. “[She had to give Gnranth-Eight traffic control ship-board computer access in order to be allowed to land. It’s the same for us, especially since we’re still in orbit and even more of a danger. If the kidnappers were found out, traffic control could lock their ship down and they’d be trapped.]”
“{Agreed,}” said Jevnar. He called up an overhead image of the inn; it sat in the middle of wind-sculpted badlands which passed for ‘scenic’ on this particular planet. The road to the raceways and the spaceport curved near the low-slung building and then off into the distance. Most of the surrounding desert consisted of a jumbled hodgepodge of mesas and rock formations, except for a flat expanse of packed soil around the inn.
He pointed a claw at the chrome ovoid of a shuttle parked in a dirt lot next to the inn. “[Thanks to some clever scanning by [Kant’nat], we know that this vehicle is registered to Grznagh’s vessel. It’s also an orbit-capable craft; I’d bet my claws that Sir is at present held on board that shuttle. My guess is that the perpetrator’s ‘Plan B’ in case of discovery consists of another ship either on the ground or in orbit, one they can reach with this shuttle.”
Prnaana’shan maneuvered himself closer to the screen, taking in the grounds with a tactical eye. He was mostly recovered from his self-recrimination, and now just had an expression of grim death on his face. “[Not a great spot for an armed rescue. The grounds around the place are too flat; it’ll be hard for us to approach without being seen.]”
“{Doubtless one of the reasons they chose the place,}” mused Jevnar. “{We must still make the attempt.}”
The Jornissian head of security raised himself higher, staring all the while at the inn’s overhead image. “[Oh we will, don’t you worry. The only way they’re making it off of this planet is through me.]”
----------------------------------------
Jevnar peered around a wind-shaped sandstone pillar. The white, slab-sided square of the inn wavered in the distance, its image distorted by heat waves from the ground. “{Target shuttle is still there,}” he murmured into his commlink. With careful slowness he crept back from the edge, then turned to face the rest of the strike team.
Prnaana’shan loomed at the front, his armored body now a metal and black ceramic monolith. Jevnar looked over the three other Jornissians of the team and his military instincts noted automatically that their power armor was also properly set. The faceted shape of Thunderbird Three hovered behind them; Driver leaned casually up against its open side door with his arms folded.
“[Are you sure you don’t want to armor up as well, sir?]” asked Prnaana’shan. He gestured at Jevnar’s suit, still immaculate in spite of the surrounding dirt and dust. “[I know you’re hanging back to give us overwatch, but there still might be some shooting.]”
Jevnar tapped his lapel. “{This functions as low-profile armor. I prefer more maneuverability.}”
The big Jornissian shrugged. “[As you wish. Now…]” He coiled around to address the others. “[Let’s go over it again. We approach with optical and thermal camo on. Go slow and use irregular movements just in case they have motion sensors set up. We get to the side door, I use the cutting torch. You three aim at the engine nozzles, but do not fire unless they start up. We need to hit them hard and fast, before they realize something’s wrong. Otherwise they’ll grab [Harry] and turn this into a hostage situation. [Jevnar] will be scanning the hotel and surroundings while we focus on the shuttle.]”
One of the strike team raised her hand. “[What if the shuttle takes off before we’re in place?]”
Prnaana’shan slumped. “[As much as I hate to admit it, we’d have to let it go. Disabling the engines via shooting is too risky, I only trust that option if we’re right up against them. There’s too much fuel and energy stored in that area; one wrong shot might explode the whole shuttle.]” He nodded towards Driver. “[If they’re moving at normal speed, we’ll reconvene and follow quietly. If they go like crazy, you and Jevnar need to follow and don’t lose them. Understand?]”
Driver gave a single nod.
“{We still have six hours before the deadline,}” said Jevnar with imperturbable calm. “{There should be no reason for them to depart before then.}”
With final assents from everyone (and another nod from Driver), Prnaana’shan set his shoulders. His armored figure wavered and then vanished, with only a slight heat-shimmer in the air to betray his location.
The other three Jornissians also activated their camouflage, and the four all-but-invisible troopers moved out.
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Princess Mrg-Znrnah stared at the stained, prefabricated ceiling without really seeing it. This place was only chosen for its remoteness and flat surroundings, not for its creature comforts. Grznagh now had the tiny-chomper watch duty, and she needed to get some sleep before it was her shift again.
But [Harry’s] last words to her ensured that she would not, in fact, be sleeping. She was phlegmatic about him figuring out her identity; after all, it was only a guess on his part and she had plenty of plausible deniability built up. But why would he think they wouldn’t let him go? True, she and her ‘colleague’ had committed (minor) violence on his person and were holding him in temporary captivity, but they hadn’t mistreated him. They weren’t monsters.
However, could she say the same about her employer? The plans and alternate plans presented to her always ended with [Harry’s] release. Could those be nothing but so much glrnada-shit? It would be much safer, and also much more horrible, to not let Harry go after receiving the ransom. He feared being sold into slavery, but perhaps [Whrnsnnanth’nan] would just order them to…kill him.
Murdering a tiny-chomper would smear prey-scent over them all; the resources of the entire Senate would come bearing down on the secretive Jornissian and her organization. Then again, she’d ordered the kidnapping of a tiny-chomper, so she was already tempting fate.
Mrg-Znrnah clenched her paw into a fist. Grznagh would follow such an order; the Princess had figured out within [minutes] of their first meeting that the operative was a thoroughgoing sociopath. The only reason Grznagh hadn’t hurt [Harry] yet was out of orders, not due to any protective instinct. So if such an order came, what was she to do? Disobeying [Whrnsnnanth’nan] was not a wise choice, but could Mrg-Znrnah allow herself to stand by while a murder took place?
She still hadn’t come to any definitive decision when her implant softly dinged with an incoming message. Her pulse quickened when she saw it was from [Whrnsnnanth’nan]. The brief audio message played, sounding as if the Jornissian was speaking directly into her ear.
“[Go to alert status one. Have not heard from NICKEL SHRUB, possibly compromised.]”
Mrg-Znrnah all but levitated up and out of the denpile. She didn’t know who NICKEL SHRUB was, only that she was [Whrnsnnanth’nan]’s operative on board [Harry’s] vessel. If that operative was now in enemy hands…
She brushed aside her rising panic as she threw on her black jumpsuit. As she picked up her helmet her comm buzzed again, this time with a call from Grznagh.
“{You coming?}”
“{On my way, just comb your tail for a moment.}”
She dashed out the door, stopping once outside to close it carefully. If there was somebody watching her, she needed to act normal. Of course, if somebody was watching then they’d been made and well and truly brought to ground.
Nobody lurked out on the packed earth expanse of the parking lot; nobody leaned casually against any wall reading a datapad. In fact, there was nobody outside at all. She let go a shaky breath and casually strolled towards the distant chromed scarab of Grznagh’s shuttle. They needed to keep their cool and keep to the plan; fly to the next location and await further orders.
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“{I see the Princess,}” murmured Jevnar. “{Coming from the room, she’s walking towards the shuttle.}”
Prnaana’shan’s answering murmur was filled with stress. “[Frick. Is she running?]”
“{No, she’s moving normally. Hmmm, going with basic black this season, your Highness?}” Jevnar focused his binoculars on the strolling minor member of royalty. “{Has a helmet under her arm. No visible weapons.}”
“[Could be just a shift change.]”
“{Perhaps. If someone else comes out after she goes in, then we’ll know.}”
”[I hope to Harsak that’s the case. We’re only halfway to the shuttle.]”
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Mrg-Znrnah’s attention was so laser-focused on the shuttle that she almost missed the movement. Just past the sloping nose of the shuttle, the waves of heat coming off of the desert ground wavered in the sunshine…and then a patch of those waves moved parallel to the earth. Almost as if someone wearing optical camo was sneaking up on the other side of the shuttle.
She avoided freezing in place; that would have alerted any possible attackers. Instead she kept up her casual stroll while scanning more carefully the ground on the other side of the vehicle. After a bit she was pretty confident that there were four of them; she was also confident that they were further away from the shuttle than her, and moving more slowly. Mrg-Znrnah silently called Grznagh with her implant.
The big Dorarizin sounded even crankier than usual. “[What’s up?]”
The Princess knew she was visible through the shuttle’s windscreen, so in response she flicked an ear towards the oncoming slow-motion attackers. After a brief pause, Grznagh responded with a curse.
“[Shit shit shitty shit. Should I start up the engines?]”
Mrg-Znrnah responded with a very slight shake of her head. If the others figured out they’d been made, then that would trigger them into all-out fast assault. Things would become very messy after that. No, the best bet was for her to get on board and then take off like a speared glrnada.
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“{Princess just got on board, didn’t see anything unusual,}” said Jeeves. He continued to scan the shuttle with his binoculars as he tried to ignore the knot in his guts. If someone emerged from the craft in the next few moments, then all was well. If not…
That knot seized tighter as Prnaana’shan’s voice sounded loud in his comm. “[Heat bloom on the engines, they’re warming up…SHIT!]”
A blue glow appeared at the rear of the shuttle, and with a sudden roar it slewed its nose up and arced up into the sky.
“[We’ve been made! Driver, get after ‘em!]”
Jevnar was already sliding down from his perch when the engines lit, and as he sprinted for the Thunderbird Three he saw it already accelerating. With a powerful leap he launched himself through the open side-door; his graceful movement turned into a clumsy tumble as the craft lurched up into the air after their quarry.
The deck screeched under Jevnar’s claws; the latter left big rents in the metal as he got his tumble under control. He then drove those claws in like pitons to make his way towards the co-pilot’s chair. Jevnar hauled himself into the chair and strapped in. “{Don’t lose them,}” he gasped.
Driver didn’t respond. Instead, the tiny-chomper flew with one hand as he reached into a side-pocket of his jumpsuit and pulled out a small plastic rectangle. Without looking he slammed it into a small and hitherto-unnoticed slot lost amongst the other cockpit controls.
Then, without the slightest pause, Driver reached over and punched The Big Red Button.
Jevnar grunted as the g-force smashed him back into his seat. The Dorarizin thought his eyes were going to come blowing out the back of his skull; how the hell could a mere tiny-chomper survive this?
Any further thought was washed away as a Pack-Almighty yowling noise began to scream through the cockpit speakers. For the first time in his life, Jevnar-of-Ahnrans heard the Mӧtely Crüe classic “Kickstart My Heart”…
The Eurobeat version.