The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers Read Free

was trying to control his laser and subdue a package of squalling, scratching femininity that was apparently human. Apparently, because it seemed to have eight legs and twelve arms, all pinwheeling at once. The curses that issued from somewhere within the bundle, though, were undeniably Terranglo.
    Ethan caught a few and blushed. Her handler was cursing also, a basso profundo—or profano—counterpoint to the girl. Ethan wondered what she looked like. She was moving so much he couldn’t tell.
    His attention was drawn back to weasel-face, who was talking to the older man.
    “I’m not going to tell you again, du Kane! You want us to knock you out?” The hand holding the beamer was shaking slightly. “Get in that boat, now!” A nervous glance at one wrist. Both gunmen ignored their other prisoner.
    “Well, now, I don’t know … I’d like to oblige you, but it’s so hard to remember what the right thing to do is, anymore. Maybe I’d better wait …”
    Weasel-face threw up his hands and looked to heaven for help—not caring that its position in the universe was only relevant to the temporary set of the ship.
    The big man said “Ow!”, in no uncertain terms. He promptly dumped the girl to the floor. She rolled over from the ungentle landing and sat up slowly. Her curses diminished in volume but not originality. Ethan slumped a little. She weighed at least two hundred pounds and she was not especially tall.
    “Bit me,” said the big man unnecessarily. He sucked at the injured member. “Listen now, du Kane. We’re running out of time. It’s out of our hands, see? First this shrimp shows up,” he indicated mousey, still watching attentively, “and now you’ve got to be obstinate. Won’t do you any good.”
    “Well, I don’t know …” du Kane said hesitantly. His eyes moved to the girl.
    “You stay put, father.” She looked up at the big man and Ethan noticed that that plump face had two startlingly green eyes peering out of it. “If you hit my father, you’ll likely kill him … he’s an old man. Give this idiocy up. I’ll see to it that you’re not shot out of hand, at least. And father won’t press charges. He’s too busy to bother with your variety of scum.”
    Du Kane! Well, that placed him and the girl … mighty calculating type, her … gambling on her father’s frailty like that. Hellespont du Kane was chairman of the Board of Kurita-Kinoshita Ltd. Among other things, they made the drives for interstellar ships. To say he was wealthy was to say the planet below tended away from the tropic. No doubt here was a man of whom it could be said, he really was made of money.
    A good salesman, Ethan rapidly summarized the situation by categorizing the players. Two kidnappers, two kidnappees, and one trapped innocent bystander. He wondered why they didn’t shoot the little fellow.
    The question was now of more than academic concern because the big man with the sore thumb was staring right at him. It occurred to Ethan as he stared down the muzzle of the beamer that he’d spent a little too much time gaping and far too little in disappearing. He took a step backward.
    “Just on my way to luggage bay three … sorry to interr—”
    “Hold it right there, flotsam.” The big man turned to his partner. “What now, Walther?”
    “Rama, not another one! Is everyone on this ship nocturnal?” Another glance wristward. “We’ve got to get out of here! Take him along, for now. Whitting expressly said not to leave any scraps, Kotabit.”
    Ethan didn’t like being referred to as a “scrap.” It sounded downright threatening. Right now, however, he was stuck.
    “Get over there, you,” ordered Walther, gesturing toward the other captives with his beamer.
    “Listen, really, I can’t join you. I’ve got a very important sales conference in half an hour and …”
    Walther melted a small hole in the deck between Ethan’s feet. Ethan promptly walked fast, stood next to the little man on du Kane’s