AN: Thank you guys so much for the reviews! I'm happy that you guys have been enjoying this story! Just as an FYI, I'm going to try to update at least once a week for this story, although that may be pushed back because of life. I hope you guys enjoy the latest installment.
Chapter Four
After the excitement of the Gallifreyan girl it was back to business as usual: The sniveling, the crying, the begging. Gil had half a mind to throw the lot of them in the reject pile and call it a day.
His patience was further tested by some New Earth French tart they'd caught vacationing at a leisure planet who refused to stop carrying on throughout the whole bleeding process. Her face was splotchy from all her caterwauling and she panted hysterically like she'd run a marathon. She babbled incoherently in New French, her fingers laced together in front of her in a pleading gesture.
"Shut your trap, you hear?" Gil ordered from the sidelines.
The catch's wails reached another decibel.
The captain rolled his eyes.
Telling her to calm down was useless so he went ahead and ran the scans anyway. To Gil's dismay, her net worth tallied at a dismal seven thousand credits. Ed collected her as he'd done with the others and she screamed like a bloody banshee down the corridor. Gil cursed as her cries resonated inside his brain even after she'd been towed away.
Bleeding hell, he wouldn't miss the shrieking.
His spirits were greatly improved when he spied the Edos girls limping into the room. Without a word, the tallest slunk over to the captain and handed him a tablet for his inspection.
On the screen were photographs of the Gallifreyan girl all done up. Eyeliner had been added to bring out the color in her robin's egg blue eyes and a light blush had been applied to her cheeks. She was a scrawny bird, but the red silk dress they'd given her accentuated every possible curve. She glanced at the camera head on, but her eyes betrayed her nervousness.
"She's cute," he mused. "Bet Tanzar would like her."
Tanzar, a giant yellow pustule from Xafra, usually favored the smaller catches, even though they were easy to break. That's what happens when a four hundred and eighty-kilogram slug straddles a catch weighting fifty-two kilograms.
Gil didn't complain, though. It meant he was back looking for another in a couple of weeks.
"You upload them to the cloud?" The cloaked beings nodded. "Good. Back to your cages." Obediently the aliens shrunk away to hide in their nests, buried deep in the bowels of the ship.
Gil collapsed into the chair beside Flash who was still working tirelessly on their channel. "How are we doing?" He compacted the tablet into a small pill shape and placed it in his utility belt.
"I've added the Gallifreyan girl's data to the channel."
"The Edos girls uploaded her photos."
"I know. I put them on her profile." The second-in-command made a face as if he was unsure of how to proceed. "Look, I know LOUISA says she's worth…well…more than anything we've ever sold. But do you think one hundred million credits is too much for a starting price? I mean, who has that kind of money?"
"Did you see the same stats I saw? You can buy planets for less than what she's really worth. We ain't talkin' bout your average flea-market trash here, Flash, this is Grade A merchandise. We'd be mad to go any lower."
Flash nodded unconvincingly.
"What?" Gil demanded. "Somethin' else is botherin' you. Out with it."
"It's just…."Flash sighed. "Normally when we upload the catch's information we mention where we got 'em, right?"
"Yeah. So what?"
"So," Flash tapped a few keys and the screen changed to show a photograph of a black cat next to a wall of text written in code. "It don't add up." He jerked a thumb at the screen. "It says that it caught her on Earth. On Old Earth."
"What's your point?"
"I never sent a baiter to Old Earth, it's too risky. The teleport shouldn't even be strong enough to reach that far of a distance. And look, it doesn't have a time stamp on it. I can't get a fix on when she was taken, neither."
Gil shrugged. "Maybe your program is faulty. No hard feelings, Flash, but you ain't as clever as you think you are sometimes."
Flash's brow furrowed as he stared at the monitor, but he said nothing to this.
"Look, you know what they say 'bout gift horses and mouths, yeah? It don't matter where she came from. After tonight-after we get all them catches sorted-that's a wrap. You'll be retiree at twenty-nine. How'll that be?"
Flash cracked a reluctant smile.
"You see?" he ribbed his second-in-command good-naturedly. "That's better. Just worry about what you'll do with your share."
He could hear the sound of a catch's screams progressing down the corridor and Gil felt a headache coming on. He'd have several hours more of this before it was time for the grand auction. The home stretch.
"You think you can manage on your own? I haven't had nothing to eat since 0800."
"Aye, Captain," Flash replied.
"Brill. I won't be long."
Satisfied everything was in its proper place, Gil rose from his chair and traipsed towards the mess hall with a swagger in his step.
Ten years.
He'd been at this job for ten years and it was nearly over.
Some days it seemed like only yesterday that he'd abandoned The Church. On others, when the profits were low and demands were down, it felt closer to twenty years.
But overall he'd had a good run. A smooth operation.
It was nothing like the ickle business in the Delta Quadrant he and his fellow clerics had put a halt to all those years ago.
After they'd booked the blighters and placed the catches in hospitals to re-cooperate, Gil had stayed awake all night in his cot, imagining what someone like him, someone with brains and street smarts, could make. He could build an empire twice the size with double the earnings.
In no time at all, he gave up being a toy solider to become something more. Luckily he'd been able to convince Flash (then known as Michael), to help him. He'd seen the way his eyes had lit up when he'd mentioned all the money they had funneled out of the traffickers' account. Money that had gone to waste on some filthy refugees living on some backwards planet.
Gil wished he could confront those tossers he'd thrown in prison all those years back and watch them drool over the profits he was about to make. "See what you could have been?" he would say.
Red lights flashed and a deafening siren sounded.
"INTRUDERS: DECK THREE." LOUSIA's voice warned. "INTRUDERS: DECK THREE. INTRUDERS: DECK THREE."
Gil swore vehemently as he reached for the rifle strapped to his back. He hustled up the stairs two at a time, unlatching the safety on his weapon.
"Flash," he shouted into the com attached to his uniform, "Code 4. Lock down the catches. Do not hand them over. Repeat: Do not hand them over."
He didn't wait for a response. Adrenaline coursed in his blood so hard he could practically smell the copper.
It had to be The Church. Of course they'd turned up. Right at the moment the stars had all aligned for him. Well, he'd be damned if they were going to take this away from him. He'd see every man dead before he handed over his merchandise.
When he made it onto Deck 3 he was greeted by the most peculiar sight of his life:
His crew had completely surrounded two men, both humans from the look of it. The first was a blond bloke with his hair combed to one side wearing a dress shirt and cardigan. His bespectacled eyes were wide with terror as he held his hands over his head in surrender. The other, a dark-haired gentleman wearing a tux and a bowtie, smiled benignly at the group and looked about from man to man as if they were all personal friends of his.
"Ah, so this is where you lot had got to," the dark-haired man proclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the precariousness of his situation. "Sorry about the alarm. We tried the front, but we couldn't locate the doorbell."
"Cap'n," Ed said, the barrel of his rifle trained on the intruder's nose. "We don't know how 'e got in. 'e just appeared out of nowhere."
Gil jerked his chin in acknowledgment. Seeing no need for it what with all his team members on the defensive, he lowered his weapon.
"Who the hell are you?" the captain demanded.
His crew jumped when the strange man reached into his coat pocket, but all he produced was a billfold which he confidently flashed in Gil's face.
"Kaldex Maxnion! Inventor, investor, and the richest man this side of the galaxy."
Incredulously, the captain approached the man and plucked the billfold from his hand. Sure enough, the photograph on the ID bore a perfect likeness to the man in front of him, along with the sigil of the Maxnion family: A dragon coiled around a dying star.
"Kal Max?" Gil asked, hardly believing it.
Of course he'd heard of Kal Max (everyone and their aunt had), but he'd never made a public appearance to Gil's knowledge. Max was a recluse who owned his own private planet. He ran his companies through his lawyers who, allegedly, communicated with him as he sat behind a black screen. The way Gil heard it even Max's own help didn't know what he looked like.
"No dust on the Captain," Kal Max replied cheerfully.
"Stand down," Gil ordered.
Confused, his men obediently lowered their weapons and exchanged bemused looks with each other.
"Alright," their captain said, "that's enough excitement, boys. Back to work, you lot. Loads to be done."
Slowly, his crew peeled away from the scene. Some spared the multi-trillionaire a dirty look or two, but none of them spoke out against him. It wasn't until they had completely dispersed that Kal Max's friend deemed it safe enough for him to lower his arms.
The captain passed the wallet back to its owner. "Sorry, sir. Just got a big shipment in today. Can't be too careful."
"Well, you're only human, Captain…?"
"Captain Bellamy, sir. Pleasure to have you on board. How can I help you?"
"I'm looking for a special friend and I heard you were selling."
"We got all kinds, sir. Have something specific in mind?"
Maxnion rubbed his hands together, a gesture Gil found all too familiar. It was the look of a man that knew exactly what he wanted. This normally meant a quick transaction, a handshake, and a hasty goodbye. But today he had another catch to sell and Max was exactly the man to buy her.
"I'm looking for a ginger." The multi-trillionaire raised his hand just above his eye, "About this tall, chatty, legs that go on forever."
"We got a ginge or two, no problem. They'll likely be in Cell 3, down a f-"
"Splendid," Maxnion exclaimed, meandering right past the trafficker and down the nearest corridor. "Wonderful ship. Bit luxurious for shipping cargo, though wouldn't you say?"
Gil and Maxnion's companion had to hustle to keep up with the multi-trillionaire who had vey nearly turned a corner, plunging deeper into the ship.
"Bought it off the owner of a luxury liner," Gil lied. "He didn't want to part with it but the business wasn't doin' too good."
Maxnion glanced over his shoulder at the captain, his eyes twinkling shrewdly. "Most people are reluctant to part with things that are precious to them."
Gil saw this as an opportunity to make his move. "Speaking of precious, we caught a real treasure today."
"Did you? Lovely. Isn't that lovely, Rory?"
"Very good, sir."
"You always say that," he murmured. To Gil he said, "What sort of treasure did you capture?"
"The rarest specimen we've ever come across. Only one of them in the whole universe. We're having an auction over the Space Net tonight, but if you're interested in her, I may be able to pull a few strings."
"Rare specimen? Blimey, didn't see that in the brochure. What makes this girl so valuable?"
"She's a Time Lord."
Gil, who had been struggling to keep up with Maxnion up until this point nearly collided into him as he came to a complete and abrupt halt. For a moment, the multi-trillionaire stood completely still save for the clenching and unclenching of his fists. Gradually, however, he turned to look at the trafficker.
Shock and confusion chased each other across Maxnion's face. Gil stifled a smug grin at his reaction. Now he had him.
"What?" Maxnion asked, hardly above a whisper.
"One of our baiters caught a Gallifreyan today. A young girl. She ain't a ginger, but she's-"
Without warning, Maxnion grabbed him by the uniform and pinned the captain to the wall. Before Gil had time to process what was happening, Maxnion was shoving his face inches from Gil's own and glowered at him as if he'd personally insulted his mum.
"The Time Lords are dead," he snarled. "They've been dead for hundreds of years. Thousands." He emphasized this point by pulling him back and slamming him against the wall again. "They were wiped out, every single one. So, no, one cannot be here. One cannot be anywhere. Do you understand?"
Maxnion's eyes burned into Gil's with a poisonous anger the likes of which Gil had never seen. Sure, he'd been at the receiving end of a drunken tirade or an unhappy client, but he couldn't recall a time when a bloke threw him against a wall for trying to sell him something.
"Doc—um Mr. Maxnion," his servant spoke up at last, "maybe we should hear him out."
"Sir," Gil said as calmly as he could muster, "I have picture, diagnostics, I can show you her myself if you want."
Maxnion's grip slackened slightly, but he didn't release him completely. Gil didn't want to test him by trying to pull away. The wealthy man turned to his servant who shrugged in response. Finally, he let go of the front of Gil's uniform, but continued to regard him with a strange, calculating look. The same look Gil's father used to give when he was sizing someone up at a pub, trying to determine whether or not he could take them one-on-one.
"I should warn you, Captain, I am very knowledgeable about Time Lords. If I find out you're lying to me…."
"I understand, sir." He didn't but he was keen to move on. It looked as though he was making progress. "She's a living, breathing Time Lord. I stake my reputation on it."
Maxnion considered this for a moment before turning to his valet. "Rory, remember what we discussed."
Rory nodded knowingly. "Yes, sir."
Maxnion handed Rory a wand-like device which the underling hastily stored away in the inside pocket of his dinner jacket.
"What's that?" Gil asked.
"Let's just say I have my own way of determining worth," Maxnion replied, offering Gil an ironic smile. "Have one of your men escort my valet to the cells. If what you say about the Gallifreyan is true, I'll purchase both."
"Not a problem." Gil turned on his communicator and brought Flash up to speed. He then contacted Ed and told Trev to abandon his post for the time being to guide Maxnion's valet to the cells. The hulk appeared a few moments later and escorted the reluctant man to Cell 3.
"Whenever you're ready, sir," Gil said to Max.
"Now, I should think," Maxnion replied, straightening his bowtie. "After all, time is money."
AN: Hope you guys enjoyed that! Please review! It helps me out a lot.
