Showdown on the Planet of the Slavers Read online

  Kati of Terra – Book Three

  Showdown on the

  Planet of the Slavers

  By Helena Puumala

  Kati of Terra – Book Three

  Showdown on the Planet of the Slavers

  Helena Puumala

  Copyright Helena Puumala 2014

  Published by Dodecahedron Books

  Cover image Copyright Leona Olausen 2014

  AKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to thank, as usual, all the extended family members—the Puumalas, the Olausens—my friends, my husband’s friends and colleagues, all of whom have participated in the Kati saga to some extent or another.

  Special thanks go to the Beta readers: Kaye, Ken and Rosemary. Their enthusiasm has been welcome and contagious. Everyone who gave input into the cover, which features the original artwork by Leona Olausen, also deserves a mention; the Beta readers were involved in that, as were a number of other people too numerous to name individually.

  Of course I must mention Dale Olausen, my husband, editor and publisher, as well as the person who deals with the computer issues as they arise, and drive me to distraction. He is also the heart and soul of Dodecahedron Books, and therefore an essential participant in this endeavour.

  Sincere thank you to you all.

  Helena Puumala.

  Excerpt

  Lara had rushed over to a desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a ring of the odd-looking sticks which passed for keys on this world. With shaking fingers she chose one; then shoved the whole ring into Taya’s hands.

  “You unlock that door,” she said, running to the corner of the room farthest from the said door.

  Mikal took the keys from Taya before she had a chance to obey Lara. As he picked out the key Lara had chosen, he looked at her, and then at all the others in the room speculatively.

  “Everyone other than Nabbish and myself to the other side of the room,” he said. “I smell a booby trap. Anyone who wants to get out, get out now. Nabbish, you have a stunner, I presume?”

  At Nabbish’s nod he turned to the door.

  “Cover me,” Mikal added curtly as he turned to the lock.

  Nabbish had his stunner cocked before Mikal had unlocked the door. Lara, Taya, and the four other men were crowding the corner where the opposite wall met the one with the door leading outside. Mortacks and Karn seemed to be in slight shock, while Jag and Klenn had both their cams aimed at Mikal, Nabbish and the inner door.

  Mikal pushed the door ajar, pulling out his stunner at the same time. Then someone on the other side pulled it wide open, and an arm threw something into the room. Lara shouted “Tarig!” at the same time as Nabbish shot at the arm with his stunner—not a good shot, but nevertheless likely to cause numbness in the arm for a couple of hours.

  The egg-shaped item thrown in broke on contact with the floor, emitting a flash. For one sickening moment Mikal thought that Tarig had stooped to killing them all and totally destroying Yaroli’s premises with a flash bomb, the kind of bomb with which Gorsh’s son Joakim had attacked Kati and some natives of Makros III, some time ago. Then he saw that what the broken egg was emitting was not direct death, but black smoke—toxic gas, no doubt.

  “Out! Everybody out!” he shouted. “Nabbish, go around that thing! Do not breathe in any of that stuff!”

  He pulled up the hem of his tunic to cover his nose and mouth while pushing the Continent Nord Law Enforcer ahead of him towards the exit with his other arm. As he passed the lethal device, he gave it a deft kick which sent it to the far side of the room, earning everyone a few more seconds of clear air. The others scrambled to reach the door, and to pour outdoors. Their escape was made easier when the door was suddenly opened from the outside.

  “What’s happening?” Kati cried as she got out of the way of the exodus. “Is everyone all right?”

  “Do not come in!” Mikal shouted to her, as he and Nabbish hurried to the door, crouching down to avoid the smoke which had already begun to spread from the far side, into the whole room.

  Moments later he was pulling her away from the building while hugging her hard at the same time.

  “Poison gas,” he explained, breathing hard.

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  Map of the Planet Tarangay (Detail)

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Map of the Star Federation Galaxy (Detail)

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  Map of the Planet Wayward (Detail)

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  EPILOGUE

  Also by Helena Puumala, on Amazon.com

  About the Author

  About Dodecahedron Books

  CHAPTER ONE

  Makally and Sons. Used Space Ships in Good Condition. Bought and Sold.

  Kati of Terra stared at the sign, unwilling to tear her eyes away from it. It was homey somehow, something akin to signs that she had seen on her own world, oh, ages ago. If the place had been a car lot, with the words “Space Ship” on the sign replaced by “Cars”, and if it had been planetside in open air, instead of on a Space Station which had seen better days, she might have assumed that, somehow, she had found her way back to where she had started from, without even realizing what had happened.

  “Well, this is it,” Mikal r’ma Trodden said, beside her. “Makally’s Ship Yard, on the not so classy Qupar Space Station. Recommended by the Borhquans and the Paradisans, as a good place to obtain working, used space ships at reasonable prices. Doesn’t look like much.”

  It did not, indeed. It was not even shut away from the rest of the Space Station; only a fence separated it from the walkway the foursome were standing on. Beyond the fence was a confusion of metal: discarded parts, it looked like, pieces of ships, but not a whole one in sight.

  “It looks like a wrecker’s yard,” Kati sighed, having torn her eyes from the sign to the mess behind it.

  “Don’t judge a ship yard by its front,” admonished Lank, the youngest member of the four. “I remember a Ship Captain, on the vessel that dropped me off on Lamania, saying that a seller of old ships never displays his best wares at the front door. In fact, he does exactly the opposite, which is what Makally and his boys apparently do.”

  “Why is that?” the final member of the group, and the oldest one, though no onlooker would ever have guessed that, asked.

  “So as not to have to be bothered by the idly curious,” Lank replied. “At least, that’s what this Captain said. People truly looking for a ship to buy will make their way inside the yard, and to the Office, which should be a short walk through the junk. Everyone else will stay on this side of the fence, or else take a look at the stuff here that isn’t worth anything, and turn back, annoyed.”

  “So, it’s a matter of not putting one’s best foot forward,” Kati said wryly. “I assume that it means that Makally doesn’
t have to advertise his wares.”

  “Obviously not,” Lank agreed with a grin. “We’re here, aren’t we? And we’ll go into the Yard, and find the Office, because we do want to buy a used ship.”

  “Directed here by that best advertising method of all,” said Mikal. “Word of mouth recommendations.”

  “Um, I’d suggest putting the shopping spree at Makally’s off for a while,” subvocalized the fifth, invisible member of the group, inside Kati’s head.

  The speaker, if he could be called that, was her infamous translation node, the Granda, who liked to be known as The Monk, a cranberry-sized ball of living nerve tissue which had been implanted under her left ear in the slave ship which had snatched her away from her home planet. The mind associated with it now directed the Earth woman’s attention to a group of three large, olive-skinned, and dark-haired men loitering across the walkway.

  “They’re paying an inordinate amount of attention to us,” The Monk subvocalized. “And they’re the same racial type as Gorsh, the Slaver, remember him? I’d suggest going back to the business district, and looking for accommodation before Josh takes home the Space Cruiser. I’d prefer that the threesome not know which ship we buy.”

  “What’s wrong?” Mikal asked in a low voice.

  He was very sensitive to Kati’s mood shifts. Whether that was, simply, because the two of them were lovers, or if, as Kati suspected, he was showing some developing ESP, was not certain. His question, however, alerted Xoraya and Lank, and since Kati was the group’s “official ESPer”, they paid close attention to her, too, and looked alert.

  Kati pitched her tone low enough that even nodally-enhanced ears across the walkway would not be able to pick up the words:

  “The three brutes across the road, according to the Granda. He suggests that we leave shopping for later and find a hotel or an inn to establish ourselves in. He thinks that they may have some connection to Gorsh, considering their looks, and the amount of interest they are showing in us.”

  “Would this Gorsh know to look for you here?” asked Lank, as they began to walk away from Makally’s Yard.

  “He could, easily enough, if he’s been in touch with his former drug suppliers on Vultaire,” Mikal replied. “It would not have been hard for any of the Margolis clan to have sussed out what our plans were. And Xoraya would be a valuable prize for Gorsh, should he succeed in grabbing her and forcing her to do his bidding.”

  “I’m assuming that none of you wish to let him do so,” the lizard-woman said with a wry smile.

  “You’ve got that right,” Kati responded.

  “They’re following us,” Lank muttered beside her.

  Kati took a quick glance behind her, and determined that Lank had the right of it. The trio of burly men where indeed following them, and if she was not mistaken, they had hastened their walking speed just enough that they would be catching up to the four, shortly. The walkway ahead of them was deserted; there was a section where it ran between the Ship Yard and the back of some industrial looking building with no visible entrances. Clever of the brutes to have chosen that spot as the one where they would catch up.

  A glance at Mikal told Kati that he had done the math involved in the situation. His face was grim, and his hand was in his pocket; he no doubt had a stunner in there—always the Agent prepared for any eventuality. Lank’s hand was in his pocket, too; he must have armed himself with a stunner as well, before leaving the Cruiser for the day’s outing. Xoraya wouldn’t have one, and Kati herself had neglected to take one—a stupid, womanly move that had been! Assuming that they’d be safe in a supposedly half-civilized place like the Fringe Space Station Qupar!

  However, she did have the lace crystal knife that she had tucked into the back of her right boot at the last moment before exiting her cabin on the Cruiser. Her boots had the amusing slots in the back for stashing knives—why, she had no idea—and it had occurred to her that one of them was just the right size to hold the lace crystal knife she had taken from an attacker on Vultaire, complete with its casing which made it look like a harmless, ornamented stick. She had thought that perhaps she could ask someone on the Space Station about it: where did such things come from, how big a king’s ransom was it worth, and so forth.

  “What do you think that they’re armed with, Mikal?” Lank asked in a low voice.

  “They’ll have stunners, and laser pistols, is my guess,” Mikal answered in just as low a voice. “They wouldn’t dare bring blasters on station; even the laser pistols are illegal, but easy to hide from any but the most stringent checks. This is going to be tricky, at best.”

  Mikal was a good shot with a stunner; he had to be, as a Federation Agent. Lank was, as well; Mikal’s Borhquan cousin, Rakil, had praised his aim after the two of them had successfully protected the Entertainment Troupe’s Vultairian songstress from marauding goons. But two men with stunners against three with deadly weapons? And Mikal and Lank had two women to protect, although, granted, the brutes wanted Xoraya alive, and probably Mikal, too, since Gorsh no doubt wanted to pick his brain, should he be able to break the Agent’s defences against spilling Federation secrets. But that left her and Lank...exactly where?

  “Better dig out that wicked knife, girl, and give me the control of your body as soon as those pieces of work get within striking distance,” subvocalized the Granda. “I can help to ensure that all four of you make it through this little interlude alive and kicking. And no, I won’t lose you your chance to later on become a Federation Peace Officer. I now know that you’re really keen on joining your boyfriend in his choice of life work. I promise I won’t kill any of those brutes, though I won’t promise to keep their fingers safe from the cutting blade.”

  “Someone has to stumble; we don’t want to get too deep into the shadow of this building,” Mikal whispered urgently.

  “I’ll do it,” Kati responded immediately. It would be cover for pulling out the knife. She felt slightly sick though; she did not have faith in The Monk, in spite of his assurances. He had taken advantage of her trust too many times. But he was good with the sharp, deadly weapon, whereas she was clueless.

  Her right knee was on the walkway, and she let out a sharp gasp as she pulled out the stick that was the lace crystal knife, from her boot.

  “Hah!” one of the brutes shouted, rushing to take advantage of this opening.

  “Watch it, Morg, it could be a trap!” one of the others shouted at him.

  Kati, from her position, could see that they followed him more cautiously, but were, nevertheless, approaching fast. Mikal had pulled Xoraya behind him, while manoeuvring himself into a twisted crouch which was meant to deny a stunner wielder the opportunity for a clear shot at the chest or the head. Lank had adopted a similar pose.

  Kati knew that she was not offering a good target for a stunner either; however, she might well have been considered expendable by the brutes, so one of them might use a laser pistol on her, especially if she became a problem. She swallowed, and allowed the Granda to take control of her body, regretting the necessity already, and staying mentally right next to him, ready to wrest it back the moment she had to.

  Clearly Morg thought that he had the easy pickings, and could deal with the woman in no time at all, and then help his fellows with the men of the group. He laughed as he pulled out his weapons while coming at Kati, a stunner in one hand, and a laser pistol in the other. Kati could feel her body tensing as The Monk opened the knife, holding it half-hidden between her left leg and her right thigh. Then the Granda sprang up off the walkway, at Morg who could not halt his forward motion! Kati slashed at one of his hands with the knife, and the laser pistol fell out of a bloody hand! Split second later she was slashing at the other hand, and the stunner, too, was on the walkway. The Monk picked it up even as Kati’s opponent stared at his bleeding hands in shocked dismay.

  “I love this woman’s body,” Kati heard herself cry. “These brutish idiots can’t help but underestimate a woman!”
/>   He stunned Morg, and, behind him, the nearest other brute, who had stopped to stare in shock at what was happening to his fellow. Kati began to wrest her body back, while Mikal stunned the last of the trio; he, too, was easy pickings, thanks to his confusion at the display.

  Back in control of her physique, Kati closed the lace crystal knife and handed it to the person closest to her, which happened to be Lank.

  “I’ve got to stop that bleeding!” she said, going on her knees—both knees this time—beside Morg, and dragging The Monk back from his euphoria to help her.

  It was a good thing that the wounds were not any worse than they were; the Granda had exercised some restraint. There was no Forest Spirit on a Space Station to help her with the healing; she was going to have to do this by herself, with only The Monk to aid her. She took a deep breath, quickly centred herself, and began to work on the brute’s hands, stopping the flow of the blood first, and then knitting together the flesh that the lace crystal knife had cut so easily. She could feel The Monk helping her, and then she sensed something beyond him, feeding healing energy to her through him, completely surprising her. With this help the restoration took only moments; within a couple of minutes the only sign of the mess the Granda had made of Morg’s hands was blood on the walkway, and on that of Kati’s hands which had handled the man’s stunner.

  Meanwhile Mikal and Lank had disarmed the other two stunned bodies. Lank was staring at Kati, a bemused look on his face.

  “I guess I’ve heard the stories,” he said with a shake of his head, “but this is the first time I’ve actually seen, in person, you operate. It is impressive.”

  “That wasn’t me,” Kati protested. “I gave control to the Granda. This time he didn’t try to push the limits, amazingly enough.”

  “But you were in charge of the healing,” said Mikal. It was not a question; it was a statement.

  Kati nodded.

  “And something, someone helped us. That’s why it was done so fast. I don’t understand who, or what. There can’t be Planetary Spirits on a Space Station, can there, now?”