Hybrid Saga 01 - Hybrid (6 page)

What was the Sect doing out here? He silently cursed his bad luck. Of all the backwater outposts in the entire system, they had to come storming into this one.

Blinding lights flared into existence from under the carriers, tracking back and forth inside the outpost.

“This is a routine Sect security raid,” a feminine, computerized voice began, booming out from the amplification system of one or both of the carriers. “Stand down and prepare for search and identification parties. As of now, all vessels are grounded. Your cooperation is mandatory. Noncompliance will result in harsh penalties.”

Around the compound most people simply stood frozen, staring up at the approaching ships. As the transmission continued to repeat itself, Jarred saw the source of the thunderous rumbling, a massive bulk freighter, lumber into view, its huge mass hovering into position over the outpost.

Something was definitely off about this. Jarred didn’t know why a Sect patrol would be bothering with a hole like this, but it seemed far from routine and the presence of the bulk freighter gave him a bad feeling. One thing was for sure, he didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out what they were doing here.

“It’s time to go,” he said, pulling at Mac’s restraints.

“Yeah, good idea,” Mac agreed, his eyes focused up on the ships that were preparing to land.

“You should too,” Jarred suggested to the young woman and boy, who were both staring up at the ships in awe. “If you have the means.”

“Why?” she asked, pulling her attention from the ships to look at him. “Won’t they just do their search and then leave?”

“Well, they might,” he began, “if that was what they were here to do. But, I doubt that’s the case.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning her full attention to him.

Jarred pointed towards the largest of the ships that was just now setting down in the docking ring. “That’s not a military class transport with them. It’s a freight hauler. The Sect doesn’t do a lot of supply cartage during their raids and I doubt that it’s just come along for the ride. Whatever it is they’re here for, it doesn’t look like they plan on leaving anyone behind to talk about it.”

The woman looked towards the large freighter and her eyes grew wide as she seemed to reach the same conclusion.

Jarred turned around and began to pull Mac away.

“Wait!” the woman cried, Jarred stopping to look back at her. “Take us with you.”

Chapter 3

The large freight hauler set down heavily on an open area of the docking ring’s platform, numerous troops moving into positions around its entry hatch as the boarding ramp slowly lowered to the ground. A contingent of soldiers emerged from the opening and descended the ramp to stand guard at its base, surveying the area before signaling an all clear to their high profile passengers.

Durak, the large, Gnolith, High Commander of the Sect Dominion’s military, waited at the top of the ramp, looking out over the docking ring. He was taller than the average Gnolith; most standing well over two meters; and massively built, the personal body guards standing to either side of him nearly dwarfed in comparison.

Just behind the group, and even more out of place because of his much smaller stature, Traug stood with his thin arms folded behind his back, his personal mechanical assistant at his side, as it always was, as he observed the commotion in the docking ring.

His Trillian race was, by no means, seen as being even remotely physically intimidating, but their skills in negotiation and deceitful nature, in regards to anything profit related, made them a species most feared doing business with. A fact which Traug took a great deal of pride in. One did not require great size or physical strength to be threatening. Real power came from the ability to outthink, outwit and outmaneuver one’s opponents in any situation, whether it be in business, or on the battlefield.

The High Commander barked an order at the surrounding troops, sending them off down the ramp to pass his command on to the other groups of soldiers.

“I hope you are not wasting my time here, Traug,” he warned, as he began walking slowly down the ramp.

Traug followed, speaking confidently. “I assure you, I am not. The one you seek is here. You need only find her.”

“If she is here, I will indeed find her,” Durak returned, flatly.

Traug looked out at the mass of pilots and refugees being rounded up into groups. “And the rest of these humans?”

“You can have them,” Durak replied, in a dismissive tone. “As was our agreement.”

Traug looked over the groups of what were soon to be his latest slave acquisitions, his fee for delivering the expected whereabouts of one supposed anti-Sect revolutionist and heretic. How one being could be a threat to the Sect’s power, he didn’t know, and what she had done to somehow offend the High Commander’s Gods, he couldn’t care less about. Traug wasn’t vaguely interested in the ridiculous religions of other beings, or the reasoning behind them. What he did care about was making a profit. After all, he was a Trill, and in the world of business, currency was God, whether it be credits, goods, or in this case, information, a most valuable commodity.

Profit aside, it was always good to have the Sect High Commander in one’s favor. His employers’ current building contracts with Durak had kept their military shipyards running quite profitably, and the High Commander’s overlooking of their
bending
of certain profit-negating laws, including those that prohibited the use of slave labor, more than compensated for the discounts he received.

After all, it was technically illegal to enslave any legitimately registered citizen or refugee in Dominion controlled space, an annoying law for anyone trying to make an honest profit. But, with the influx of convict laborers growing thin these days, not to mention the negative drawbacks of having such a workforce, laws were something his employers literally couldn’t afford to obey. Not if they wanted to maximize their profits. Even prison inmates had rights, and the terms and conditions of their labor were regulated and monitored closely by troublesome bureaucratic observers. Slaves were more reliable, less volatile, and most importantly, less expensive. They, of course, couldn’t be trusted with the important roles of machinists, engineers or trade workers, but were more suited for the menial, hard labor tasks others would never freely volunteer for, even with pay.

The Syntax Corporation employed millions in its many installations; from mines and refineries to assembly plants and orbital construction yards; spread over numerous planets, moons and space stations system wide, many of them residing within the large and sometimes remote facilities. To keep such employees motivated and productive it was prudent to ensure that their personal needs were being satisfied. Apart from their direct labor uses, a good influx of diverse slave labor enabled Traug’s employers to see to it that their legitimate workforce was adequately indulged and entertained as well, and at a much lower cost than importing it from the preexisting talent pools. Though the slave trade, and by extension, the use of slave labor, was viewed quite negatively by the public, its industrial applications were almost limitless.

In the end, what the slaves were used for was really none of his concern. They were a commodity, like any other, for which there was market demand. The first rule of Trillian Profit Mechanics stated:
If it can be sold, sell it.
Traug didn’t trouble himself with the moral implications. This new batch of slaves would be a welcome addition to his employers’ already busy workforce, and at minimal cost to them, but for the time and place that Durak should be if he wished to capture his little insurgent. An odd trade, but one he was easily ready to broker, though he didn’t know all of the reasons behind the Sect’s interest in her. That was something he would have to change. Though he might find the reasons absurd, he was sure that having more insight on the subject could only be advantageous to him.

After all, information was one of his most profitable assets.

*     *     *

Jarred pulled Mac behind him, pushing his way through the mass of refugees that were crowding around one of the small entry ramps to the docking ring.

Once the Sect troop carriers landed inside, he had lost sight of them, but the patrol craft were still hovering overhead, guarding the compound’s perimeter. They didn’t want anyone sneaking away. All the more reason why he
should
be sneaking away.

He wasn’t entirely sure though, if his sudden compulsion to leave as soon as possible was a result of the Sect security raid, or the persistent woman and boy that were now following his every move. They had been right on his heels ever since the young woman had proposed that he give them a ride out of here, a request he’d flatly rejected, and a rejection she didn’t seem quite prepared to accept.

“My name is Elora,” the woman continued, having been prattling on about her plight for the last several minutes, “and this is my brother, Ethan. We’ve been refugees for three years now, since our father died.” She was taking the personal approach now, he knew, trying to appeal to what she probably hoped was his good nature.

“My brother is my responsibility,” Elora went on. “I’m just trying to make a better life for us than this, and all I’m asking from you is a little help in getting there. You said yourself we should get out of here if we have the means. If you help us, then we have those means.”

“She has a point,” Mac added in from behind Jarred.

“I’m sure Taliss would pay just the same if you had an unfortunate accident before getting to him,” Jarred said, pointing a finger in Mac’s face before returning his attention to Elora.

“Look lady,” he began, speaking as calmly and rationally as he could manage, under the circumstances. “I sympathize with your situation, I really do, but do I look like a taxi service to you?” He pulled Mac around to accentuate his point.

“No,” she answered. “Not really, but we won’t get in your way. You won’t even know we’re there.”

“You’re right,” Jarred responded, turning to walk away. “Because you won’t be.”

“We’ll
pay
you!”

Jarred looked back, not at the woman, but at the young boy, Ethan, who had spoken this time. The boy handed him a wallet, most likely picked from some stranger’s pocket, Jarred eyeing him for a moment before inspecting it’s contents. There wasn’t much in it, a few credits and identification cards. Definitely not sufficient passage freight for anyone in that particular trade. Still, he felt a strange pang of sympathy for the boy at that moment, an uncomfortable feeling of, what was it . . . guilt, perhaps? That thought was even more unsettling than the feeling itself and Jarred handed the wallet back to Ethan. “Keep it.”

He then glanced back at Elora and nodded her a final farewell. “Good luck.”

Jarred turned then and walked away, pulling Mac along with him. He had a contract to make good on, and he wasn’t about to let some woman and her kid brother guilt him into jeopardizing that. He needed to get clear of this place and as quickly as possible. Marching to the front of the line up of people waiting to pass through the dock gate, he cut in, pushing a refugee out of his way to step up to the deck officer’s station, giving him his freighter’s transponder identification card.

“All craft are grounded,” the deck officer stated, dryly, not seeming to notice or care that he had cut into the line. “Or didn’t you notice the Sect ships blockading the dock?”

“No,” Jarred answered, sarcastically, looking up at the patrol craft hovering overhead. “Thank you for informing me.”

The deck officer shrugged, scanning the I.D. card. “Hey, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t,” Jarred responded, shortly, taking back his card and stepping through the gate.

“Are these two with you as well?”

Jarred glanced back to see the deck officer pointing at Elora and Ethan and opened his mouth to protest.

“Yes, we are,” Elora answered, before Jarred could even utter a word.

“No, they’re not,” he corrected, causing the officer to look back and forth between him and Elora, seeming entirely confused.

“We
are
,” she assured the officer, giving him a sweet smile.

The deck officer shrugged and let Elora and Ethan pass, Jarred throwing up his hands in frustration.

Would he never get rid of these two? One little good deed and
this
was his reward. Those thugs didn’t seem so bad now. He was actually starting to sympathize with them. He made a mental note to mind his own business in the future.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” came Elora’s increasingly annoying voice again, following close behind him. “We only need a ride. It doesn’t matter where. It’s not like we’re asking you to go out of your way. Wherever you’re going is fine. Is that asking so much?”

Jarred turned on his heel, whirling to face Elora, and was momentarily taken aback by the fierce look of determination in her eyes. Quickly regaining his composure, he pointed a finger at her. “Yes, it is.” Turning right back around, he continued to march across the dock, knowing of course, that the woman would be right behind him.