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CHAPTER 7. WELCOME TO SEPHARVAIM.

  The shuttle touched down onto a patch of smoothed rock in front of a cluster of squat, blocky buildings whose lights were only distantly visible in the monsoon. The light outside was dim at best and rain lashed the shuttle's hull with a drumming sound and ran in torrents down the portholes. A bulky, high-sided personnel carrier – some military surplus looking thing – trundled out from one of the larger buildings and docked at the shuttle's airlock. We all shuffled aboard and then it took us to the buildings.

  They had been built from local grey stone and Konkreet and looked plain and functional apart from steeply pitched roofs. Water cascaded down from the roofs and sluiced away to a nearby river. For a moment, I was surprised there was no fence surrounding the buildings but then I realised there was nowhere to run to. Nowhere at all.

  As I peered through the porthole, I spotted a shooting star flame through the soupy atmosphere. Looked like the cometary bombardment hadn't quite ceased. As it crashed behind a range of low mountains, I made a wish. No, I'm not superstitious but old habits and thoughts die hard. I turned away from the dispiriting scene.

  The transporter carried us into a barn-like structure. Heavy metal doors slid down behind us and I heard the muffled hum of an atmosphere changer. When a green light flashed over the carrier's door and it opened wide, we all trooped off and stood in the barn. The air in the barn was hot and clammy. One or two of the Röötherspherians complained.

  "You don't like it – take a hike," the pirate guard snapped. "Outside the air temperature is over eighty-five deg C, humidity one hundred per cent. The air is poisonous. It'd be a toss-up whether you'd boil or choke first."

  That shut up the Röötherspherians.

  "Good news is, you've got all the comforts of whichever sorry planet you're from. There's food and water and once Economou pays up, you'll all be free to go. Captain Knofahgginarebagz is a man of his word."

  That was good to know, although personally I wouldn't have trusted the ape-man further than I could throw him. About one metre on a good day. The pirate crew led the passengers away, the Röötherspherians still moaning like drains. As high value captives, us three were held separately. We were taken to another building and locked in.

  "Wait there – Captain Knofahgginarebagz has plans for you," the pirate said as he slammed the door. An instant later, I heard the buzz as a magnetic lock engaged and then the hum of a low-grade force-field. They certainly didn't mean for us to escape.

  In the quiet, I fiddled with the view-screen and looked out at the dismal scene. I saw the landing strip, the huddle of buildings, the low mountains. And constant, unending, torrential rain. Lightning flashed over the peaks. There would be no let-up in my lifetime. Turning to Çrámerr, I asked him how long it would take Economou to pay the pirate's ransom demands.

  "String theory," he said, enigmatically.

  "What do you mean?" Julianna asked him before I could.

  "Meaning, 'how long is a piece of string?' There all sorts of factors to be equated. Like political pressures, how valuable the spacecraft is, commercial dynamics..."

  "So basically we're on our own?"

  "No – as a Vice-President, I'm a high-value commercial asset and the board will pull out all the stops to get me back onside."

  I wondered about that. The company I work for is nowhere near the size of Economou interplanetary Logistics, Inc. but there are men who would happily step into my shoes without a second thought. Some would even stab me in the back to get there as well. I know who they are and I keep my eye on them. Yes, that most certainly includes you, Peterson.

  However, at Economou, I knew there must be loads of thrusting, dynamic executives all eager to fill Çrámerr's shoes. They would have mastered his strange management-speak and would also be pushing hard for promotion. Depends how much the board wanted him back.

  But I had a different problem. I'd failed and I'd never failed before. That's why I was the best interplanetary recovery agent in Orion's Arm. That's why I get the best – and most lucrative assignments. Yet here I was, stuck on this hell-hole while the pirates held Sava's Kississ shell – and his consort (or gynoid). That wouldn't look good on my CV.

  But for the time being, I was at a loss. Without a protective suit, I couldn't leave this building. With a temperature of over eighty-five C and a poisonous atmosphere, I'd be dead before I got ten paces.

  Still there were compensations. In the form of Julianna. And our suite – although basic – wasn't too bad. It was better than the alternative. Which was death.