Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) Mark Wandrey (e novels to read .TXT) 📖

Inside the startown, Sato used his pinplants to navigate. The robotic hauler followed along faithfully like a pet, carrying the 150-kilo mass of the support module and their duffel bags without complaint. Once they finished with it, the machine would return to just outside the startown to offer its unceasing services to the next customer.

Even if Rick was curious where they were going, he didn’t ask. Sato was somewhat concerned about his attitude. The man had shown genuine anger the previous night. Sato had wanted to talk to Dakkar at some point, but the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. Shortly they’d have time.

They turned down a street and arrived at his destination. “Tsukuyomi Brokers.” Sato turned to Rick. “Would you wait out here with Dakkar?”

Rick examined the building front, then glanced at the support module. “Is there any danger?”

“No, just going to buy something. I think you and the module might complicate things. Okay?”

Rick nodded, and Sato went inside. There was a small waiting area where Tri-Vs showed alternating images of the shop’s merchandise. He was alone in the room and waited patiently.

A door slid aside, and a middle-aged Japanese man stepped inside. He carefully examined Sato before speaking in Japanese. “Greetings, and welcome to Tsukuyomi Brokers. Can I assist you?”

“I am looking at your inventory item #991,” Sato said.

The man’s eyebrows rose slightly. “That item is not available for lease, unfortunately.” He gave Sato’s dress a quick look once more. Sato had chosen his old uniform again, minus patches. You would come across a thousand people dressed similarly, either because they were between merc companies, or because they didn’t want anyone knowing who they worked for. “If you are interested in something for a wealthy investor…”

“This is for my own uses,” Sato explained, “and #991 is ideal for my uses.”

The man stared blankly for a moment and Sato knew he was accessing pinplants, which made sense in his line of business. “Lot number nine-nine-one is an Efook-class corvette, Izlian by design. The type was retired and mothballed 11,000 years ago. Approximately 3,000 years ago, 122 of them were taken out of storage and converted into armed couriers. Most of their armaments were removed. A hyperspace generator and nodes, also surplus, were installed, making it among the smallest hyperspace capable vessels in the galaxy.

“Unfortunately it was so small it was insufficiently armed and shielded to function as a reasonable courier, so they were again retired and sold on the secondary market. The ship’s heavier-than-normal armor and still noticeable armament made them too expensive to be attractive to private owners, and the hyperspace capability robbed it of the nimbleness it had once possessed as a corvette. Thus, small principalities were not interested in the Efook as a patrol vessel.” He spread his hands and shook his head. “So, you see, I cannot offer any private sale discounts.”

“How much?” Sato asked.

“Sir, are you sure you wouldn’t be more interested—”

“I asked, how much?”

The starship broker took a step back in surprise at the vehemence of Sato’s question. “Sir, the price is 26 million credits.”

“I see,” Sato said. “How did it end up here?”

“The Earth Republic had contracted to purchase it and four more. This was the first to arrive, the same day the Mercenary Guild invaded. The government was in no position to pay the required fees, so the sale defaulted. I picked up the contract. I assumed with so many mercs in system, somebody would be interested…” he trailed off.

“Condition of the vessel certified?”

“Naturally,” the man said, some of his bravado returning. “The ship was gone over by an Izlian contractor in the Regora system just a month before the sale. It was guaranteed in combat-ready condition.”

Sato made a face. Years of working for the Winged Hussars as their chief space naval architect had taught him what to think about a ship guaranteed as combat ready. That meant it would be able to maneuver, fire its weapons, and jump into hyperspace. That was about it. Still, he was more than confident in his own abilities.

The Tri-V behind the broker was showing the ship slowly rotating in all axes. A pointy affair with retractable delta wings for atmospheric flight and canards by the forward mounted cockpit, he could see it was a scale-up of the Izlian Afoo-class, which was a large cargo shuttle designed to operate in gas giants such as the ones Izlians lived in. That meant the former corvette would have a seriously tough hull.

“I’ll take it,” he said. The broker gawked. “Is there a problem?”

He looked Sato over again. “Sir, 26 million credits!”

“I have an Information Guild account code.” The man blinked. “Yes?”

“As it’s a warship, you must pay the guild registry fee as well. Another million credits, cash.” Sato took out a million-credit chit from his pocket. Another blink.

“Are you ready to get to work? You’re not the only broker in Tokyo Startown, and I’m willing to wager any of them could sell me that ship. Your call.”

Sato stepped out of the broker’s office an hour later, a pair of data chips in his pocket, and a swagger to his step.

“How’d it go?”

“Fine,” Sato said. “I bought a starship.”

“Why am I not surprised? I take it that code paid for it?”

“Correct,” Sato said. “We need to move quickly. I don’t know how long before the transaction will be noted, and more opSha killers show up.”

“They won’t catch me off guard next time,” Rick said. “Do you know who they were working for?” Rick asked as he followed Sato toward the starport.

“No,” Sato said. “But not Adrianne McKenzie.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Sato saw the woman’s face drift across his mind’s eye. She was sitting across from him at a restaurant table. The window outside showed an arid, desert-like