Pandora's Box. Страница 4
«It was there they unearthed the very Krop plague, a deadly, highly contagious disease that spread across their interstellar colonies within mere weeks and annihilated their entire people. Apparently, they had mastered long-distance teleportation technologies, which only accelerated the spread. Far worse consequences were avoided only because they tended to live apart from the larger galaxy and other races. Then again, some believe the disease affected different species in different ways – opinions differ widely on that.»
«Over time, the deserted Bajjar turned into a true Mecca for combat enthusiasts», Arma went on, speaking in John’s characteristic manner, «a place that never fails to attract a motley mix of adventurers, mercenaries, traders, and plain thrill-seekers from every neighboring world.»
«Besides its world-famous arena fights», Arma continued, «the planet is also known as the home of pink pearls, among the most precious gems in existence. They come from a rare species of so-called red mollusks that live deep beneath the surface and rise upward thanks to the planet’s unique properties. The name Bajjar – ‘receding water’ is no coincidence. The planet’s oceans appear and vanish in different places several times a year. When the water withdraws, it leaves behind the red mollusks, and that’s when the pearl hunters rush in.»
«Why did they call the planet ‘receding water’?» Kane asked, raising an eyebrow. «Why not, say, ‘approaching water’? Or maybe – »
«No idea», Arma interrupted calmly, cutting him off before he could finish and went on with her narration. «So, because of this constant cycle of retreating and returning waters, the planet has only one major city, built on its single flood-proof plateau. It consists of two distinct parts. One is an ordinary city open to everyone. The other, quite the opposite, is highly exclusive, and getting in isn’t easy.»
«I suppose that’s where the money flows», Maarv remarked.
«Precisely», Arma confirmed. «That section belongs to the wealthy Bajjar Trade Corporation, which controls the pearl industry and even maintains its own embassy on Ilion.»
«I wonder what kind of creatures lived on that planet before the Miwots arrived», John mused. «Not that I’m suggesting we start digging through the soil for treasure or ancient artifacts after what we’ve just heard… but still, it’s fascinating, isn’t it?»
«Unfortunately, no reliable data have survived in the existing archives», Arma replied. «But since we’re heading there anyway, I suggest we use the opportunity to broaden our universal horizons. Once we arrive, you can ask the local inhabitants whatever questions you wish. I’m sure some of them will turn out to be quite friendly individuals.»
Maarv was finishing the final check of their plotted course, as protocol required, while polishing off a box of sweet bars gifted to Smorg by the grateful citizens of Ilion. «Once we find Tarion, we won’t need to ask any ‘local inhabitants’ about anything – I’m sure he’s already sniffed everything out long ago! As for their supposed friendliness», he added dryly, «I wouldn’t count on it. Kvaon did warn us – it’s a dangerous place, and I’m inclined to believe he wasn’t exaggerating.»
Chapter 4
The Mion system had already appeared on the locators, and the Armaon began to reduce speed, gradually lowering the power of its hyperdrive engines and shifting to the main thrusters. The system was encircled by several rings of asteroids and drifting dust streams, all illuminated by a vast red star – the local sun. The sight was magnificent: everything moved in grand harmony, caught in an endless cosmic dance of motion and balance.
Upon entering the planet’s orbit, Maarv activated the scanning systems, which quickly pinpointed the city’s location and analyzed the atmosphere. The air was perfectly clean, entirely breathable and free of impurities.
«At the very edge of the smaller city there’s a large spaceport», Arma announced at last. «I’m also detecting a few landing pads within the Trade Corporation’s district, but they appear to be private and, from what I can tell, shielded by energy screens.»
«Well then, let’s not get too bold too soon», Draam grumbled. «We’ll land on the outskirts. No need to draw unnecessary attention.»
The Armaon had barely touched down when a whole group of rather suspicious-looking figures approached the landing pad. They wore worn mercenary jumpsuits, some of them with fully sealed helmets. They were all well-armed and didn’t look particularly friendly.
The moment Arma opened the hatch, two of them immediately tried to climb inside, but were swiftly seized and escorted back out by a pair of infantry droids. Draam and Kane followed them down the ramp, greeting the newcomers politely in Galacton.
«This is a paid spaceport», drawled the tallest of them instead of offering a greeting. He wasn’t wearing a helmet; his face was crisscrossed with scars, and his eyes held a cold, measuring look. «Twenty galactic credits, and we’ll make sure your ship’s protected from any riffraff. Trust me, this place crawls with scum.»
«I can see that», Draam replied slowly, his gaze sweeping over the motley crowd. «No shortage of scum around here, that’s for sure.»
«Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!» another thug yelled. «You’d better watch it! We’re not the kind to joke with! And your walking tin cans won’t help you here! Look over there!» He jabbed his finger toward two small towers nearby, where a pair of old battle turrets creaked out of their housings and took aim at the ship.
The gang had clearly mistaken the Armaon for a research or cargo vessel – its design was unfamiliar, and its relatively small size for a battle cruiser had misled them.
The ship’s two hidden stern guns released a deep, vibrating roar that made everyone’s ears ring; the shockwave knocked all but Draam and Kane off their feet. In the same instant, the towers with their ancient turrets blew apart, scattering white-hot fragments in every direction. The display was both spectacular and unforgettable.
«Oh, I beg your pardon – I interrupted you in the most uncivilized manner», Draam said politely, with a hint of guilt in his tone. «Would you be so kind as to remind me where we left off?»
The thugs stared at him in stunned silence.
«You’ll regret this», the tall, scarred mercenary finally managed to blurt out. «We’ll report this to His Excellency, the Governor!»
«Dear friends, there’s clearly been a misunderstanding», Kane interjected smoothly, giving Draam a quick wink. «Twenty credits is a perfectly reasonable price for the fine protection of such respectable gentlemen! The moment I saw your open and honest faces, I thought – these are exactly the ones we need! How wonderful that you’ve done us the honor of being the first to propose a mutually beneficial arrangement!»
After these words, the thugs exchanged bewildered glances and lowered their weapons, now completely thrown off balance. They cast uneasy looks at Draam, then at Kane, then at the Armaon, clearly unsure what to do next.
Kane reached into his pocket and produced several folded notes of galactic credits, at the sight of which the mercenaries’ eyes gleamed with greedy anticipation.
«Oh, and one more thing», Kane went on, as if suddenly remembering something, just before handing the money to their leader. «We’ve heard that, in addition to your admirable morals and fine business sense, the local populace also has a certain fondness for… games of chance at the Arena! And as it happens, we were hoping to attend the fights of that famous Rionian wonder-warrior and place wagers of rather… let’s say, indecent proportions.»
«You’ve come to the right place! We’ll take you to the Governor and you can discuss any bets with him! Follow that piece of junk over there!» He pointed toward a rusty contraption that vaguely resembled a transport vehicle standing nearby.