Reap the Whirlwind

She noticed his stare in the mirror. Her reflection looked back at him with a soft, caring expression. “Finally awake?”

“I was having a dream,” he said. “Then I realized you weren’t in it, so I decided to wake up instead.”

Holding a lock of her hair in a firm grip, she worked the brush through some tangles at its end. “Ready for another night of impressing the masses?”

He rolled onto his side to face her more directly. “I’m just hoping the tables do better than break even tonight.”

“I spoke to Danac about that,” she said. “He understands that he’s supposed to finish the night with a profit.”

“Good. I’ll have Zett watch him, just in case.”

A sour look darkened Neera’s face. “I know Zett’s quite good at what he does,” she said, “but I don’t like him.”

“Neither do I,” Ganz admitted. “But we’re not supposed to like him. His job is to keep people in line, not win them over.”

Neera put down her brush and half-turned in his direction. “You need to keep a shorter leash on him,” she said. “He has an unhealthy obsession with that drunkard Qui

Never show fear to the woman you’re sleeping with…especially when she’s your boss.

“Sure, Zett holds grudges, but he’s disciplined,” Ganz said. “He won’t act unless I tell him to. He knows Qui

“Qui

Ganz sat up on the edge of the bed. “All true,” he said. “But like I said, he’s useful. He gets jobs done that other people can’t.”

“That’s no reason to trust him,” Neera said.

He got up. “I don’t trust anybody.” Walking over to her, he continued, “Someone with muscle’s pulling his strings from the other side. I don’t know who; maybe one of the other bosses, maybe Starfleet. I don’t care, really. Smuggling gets harder every day, but whoever’s backing him makes it possible.”

“The only reason smuggling is difficult for us is that we’re docked at a Federation starbase,” Neera said. “If we made port in one of the neutral star systems nearby, we could move much more freely.”

With a firm but tender grip, Ganz started massaging Neera’s shoulders. “You’re right…. But how long do you think we’d last without armed escorts? And how much do you think it’d cost to hire them?” She closed her eyes and relaxed into his kneading hands. “I’d rather deal with a few delays and do our business from here. As long as we’re docked at Vanguard, no one’ll come gu

In a teasing voice she quipped, “You’d give up your liberty in the name of security?” She smirked. “Some might call that a foolish bargain.”

“No liberties when you’re dead,” he replied.

Her personal comm device, which had been sitting among her assortment of cosmetics containers on the vanity, beeped softly. She picked it up, flipped it open, and pressed it to her ear. “Go ahead,” she said to the person on the other end. After listening carefully for several seconds, she said simply, “I understand,” then flipped the device closed. Setting the device back on the vanity, she met Ganz’s questioning gaze in the mirror. “Get dressed,” she said.

Not wishing to comply too easily, Ganz asked, “Why?”

“Because there’s just one problem with relying on Starfleet’s protection,” Neera said, rising from the vanity. “Every now and then, they want something.” Turning to face him, she added, “Commodore Reyes would like to see you.”

The last time Ganz had met with Reyes, the Orion merchant prince had come away with a clear understanding: his ship could remain berthed at Vanguard only so long as its illicit trades remained confined to its interior and his clientele remained free of Starfleet perso

Ganz arrived at the rear service entrance of a building in Stars Landing, the crescent-shaped residential development inside Vanguard’s massive terrestrial enclosure. As the invitation had specified, the door was unlocked. The burly Orion opened the door and slipped inside.

A narrow hallway led past some storage rooms and a pantry before opening into a large professional kitchen. Waiting there for him was Manón, the establishment’s owner and namesake. “Right on time,” she said, offering Ganz a courteous nod. She was one of the few women whom Ganz considered comparable in beauty to his own beloved Neera, though the two women could not be more different. Neera was dark, athletic, and almost feral in her mien. Manón was pale, delicate, and refined; her elegantly shaped crest of multicolored hair and almond-shaped eyes were arresting, and as he neared within a meter of her, he sensed an aura of physical warmth emanating from her.

Manón’s tasteful turquoise-colored wrap billowed gently around her as she led him out of the kitchen into the main room of her club. The main room had an open floor plan, so that every seat had a clear line of sight to its stage. Despite the height of the ceiling, the room’s use of recessed lighting and strategically placed shadows contributed to a more intimate ambience. The opaque front doors were closed and, Ganz presumed, locked; there was no sign of any of the club’s staff.

Standing beside a table in the middle of the club was Commodore Reyes. The lanky human Starfleet officer regarded Ganz with a stern expression.

His hostess turned and said to him, “There are drinks on the table…. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen. Let me know when you’re ready to be shown out.” At that, she returned to the kitchen, leaving the Orion with the man who had summoned him.

Ganz crossed the room in casual strides and joined Reyes at the table. “Commodore,” he said in a neutral tone. “You called?”

With a downward nod of his chin, Reyes said, “Have a seat.” The commodore sat down.

Ganz settled into a chair but kept a cautious watch on the human. On the table were two glasses, both filled with the same bubbly, pale golden liquid. Neither man seemed interested in drinking, however.

Eager to get to business, Ganz asked, “What’s on your mind, Commodore?” He hoped that none of his people had done anything rash to violate the terms of his truce with Reyes.

“A business proposition,” Reyes said. “There’s a ticking clock on this deal, so let me tell you what I want first, and we can work out a price second.”

Masking his intense interest, Ganz said, “I’m listening.”

“There’s a Klingon heavy cruiser in port at Borzha II,” Reyes said. “The Zin’za. She’s making final repairs and getting ready to ship out ASAP. I want your people on Borzha II to keep that ship in port for another twenty-four hours.”

The Orion suppressed a single low chortle. “Tangling with the Klingons is bad for business,” he said. “If you want the ship destroyed, do it yourself.”

“I don’t want it destroyed,” Reyes shot back. “I just want it stuck in port for an extra day.”

Ganz didn’t like the sound of this. “My people aren’t proxy fighters, Commodore, they’re smugglers. Thieves, not soldiers.”

“That’s why they’re perfect for this,” Reyes said. “I don’t want them to fight the Klingons, just mess with them a little. Some light sabotage. Steal a few critical moving parts the Zin’za can’t go to warp without.”

The merchant prince scowled. “Sabotage is risky business. It took a long time to get my people jobs inside a Klingon starport. I don’t want to risk them just so you can beat the Klingons to a few more balls of rock at the ass end of space.”

“This is bigger than that,” Reyes said. “One of my ships is down, in the Jinoteur system.” Ganz relaxed his posture as the commodore continued. “The Klingons picked up the Sagittarius’s mayday, and the Zin’za is being sent to neutralize them. We’re sending help to the Sagittarius, but the Zin’za is closer and faster. I need the Zin’za to have some major malfunctions R.F.N., understand? That ship needs to stay stuck in port for at least another twenty-four hours, or my people are dead.”