Free Mapped Space 1: The Antaran Codex by Stephen Renneberg Page A

maintenance, she was still a reliable, if elderly, workhorse.
    “According to the port register,
that ship is the Vandray’s Promise .
The Captain is Esmin Vandray.”
    “Esmin? . . . Good work, Izin.”
    I’d known Marie to pull a few
reckless stunts, but I’d never seen her risk her license before. Using a fake
ship registry and borrowed skipper’s tags seemed crazy, even for her. I sure
hoped whatever she was up to, was worth it.
    I would have liked to figure out
what that was, but knew I had to find Sarat soon, before Vargis sidelined me,
permanently.

 
    * * * *

 
    I tried
sleeping off the effects of being drugged twice, but after what seemed to be
only minutes, I became aware of a pungent aroma. At first I thought I was
dreaming, but the scent of incense grew stronger, eventually jarring me awake. My
stateroom’s wall screen was set to simulate a window with the shades drawn,
creating an illusion that it was more than a metal box. The feeble light
penetrating the ‘shades’ illuminated a thin pall of gray smoke floating in the
air. I heard a man inhale, then saw the end of a fume-stick glow revealing a
swarthy face amidst the darkness.
    Ignoring the throbbing in my
head, I sat up and stared into the shadows to the right of the window sim where
a dark form sat. Blue smoke wafted from his slender fume-stick, slowly filling
my stateroom with an intoxicating haze that would take the atmo scrubbers days to clear.
    Somehow he’d gotten inside the
ship, bypassed Izin’s elaborate security system and then made himself
comfortable in my stateroom without triggering my threading’s proximity sensors.
Such a feat should have been impossible. I tried DNA locking him, but as far as
my threading was concerned, he didn’t exist. Not even a thermal trace. My
olfactory analyzer told me the smoke came from an expensive Pashtun narco -leaf that heightened well being without distorting
perceptual thinking. Inexplicably, it was unable to identify the physical
source of the smoke, even though I was staring straight at the fume-stick.
    “Being a light sleeper is a good
thing for people in your line of work, Captain Kade.”
    My visitor spoke in a cultured
Republic accent, which my listener identified as coming from Kerala or Tamil
Nadu in southern India – a good fit to Lena’s briefing profile.
    “Mukul Sarat, I presume?” My
listener had been able to analyze his accent, which told me the entire room
wasn’t suppressed, just a highly localized area around him. The EIS had been
trying to produce a personal dampening field for years with no success, yet my
guest was clearly protected by just such a device, leaving me in no doubt he
was geared up with alien-tech.
    Sarat nodded, showing no surprise
that I’d guessed his identity. He was tall and bald, with a gaunt face and dark
sunken eyes. “I understand you wish to bid at my auction?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Perhaps you were unaware that
this is an invitation only gathering, and frankly, a man such as yourself lacks
the financial resources to participate.”
    “And yet you broke into my ship,
beat my security, and are stinking up my room with that weed you’re smoking.”
    “I’m a curious man.”
    “Curious enough to destroy my
hull sensors so you could sneak aboard.”
    “Consider it a demonstration,”
Sarat said, “of my . . . connections.”
    “You better hope my engineer
doesn’t find you aboard,” I said, “or the only thing you’ll be connected to is
the wrong end of a shredder.”
    “Ah yes, I heard you had a pet tamph.
I never cared for them myself – too hard to control.”
    “Only if you can’t earn their
respect.”
    “I prefer fee for service. Which
brings me to the reason for my visit. I’ve done some checking on you, Kade. You’re
notorious for making rash decisions and acquiring enemies.”
    “I’m just misunderstood.”
    “It’s why I believe your interest
is genuine, but my little gathering is full.”
    “No it isn’t,