Fated Mate Conquered - Luna Voss Page 0,52
My heart just about falls into my stomach. Technically, I’ve been a fugitive from Imperial law enforcement ever since I left the UPE and joined the Vostra.
Turan however, barely reacts.
“Hands on the table,” one of the officers orders, gesturing with his weapon. “Now.”
Everyone at the table complies, the other card players looking furious. Rizban does a better job of staying calm than his companions.
“Good evening, officers,” he greets them casually. “I hope you can understand that there’s no need for conflict here. Would you like to join our game? I’d be happy to buy you both in for a quarter-million credits each. Stay as long as you want, and take the credits with you when you leave. As a gesture of my goodwill.”
The UPE guards don’t seem impressed, although it’s hard to tell with their faces covered. “I’ll have you know that attempting to bribe Imperial officer is a crime,” one of them says coolly.
“I think you’ve misunderstood me,” says Turan, starting to look nervous. “You walked in on our game. I only thought it was polite to ask you to join us.”
“You’re aware of our relationship with Governor Ferguson?” the Dajorkan lieutenant asks. “He’s a VIP at the Tajiki Comet. Good friend of the owners. You should talk to him before you think about doing anything to us.”
“Our orders come straight from the Emperor,” says the one in front. “If you have concerns, you can take them up with him. All of you, against the wall. Now.”
The two officers point their guns threateningly. Grudgingly, everyone at the table gets up. Turan puts a reassuring arm around me, although it doesn’t help the fact that my stomach feels like lead. Unless he has some kind of trick up his sleeve, I’m going to face execution as an Imperial deserter the moment they find out who I am.
“Cuff ‘em,” I hear one of the officers say, and the other one goes down the line behind us, using beam-cuffs to restrain all of our hands behind our backs. Having formerly worked in corrections, I’ve been on the other side of this equation many times, but I haven’t been cuffed myself since my training at the Academy.
“What are the charges?” Rizban spits as the officer secures his cuffs. “What am I accused of doing? I demand an audience with Governor Ferguson before you transport me out of this system!”
“Rizban Gordulla, you’re under arrest for racketeering,” says the guard. “The rest of you are accessories. We’ll book you once we get off the space station.” He presses a button on the control panel on his wrist, which I know is him “tethering” the cuffs. Anyone who tries to leave the group will now face a powerful electric shock.
“Don’t any of you try to run, now,” says the guard, and I could swear I hear a smile in his voice, “or you’ll get the zappy zappy.”
“You’re going to regret this,” says one of the Dajorkans. “We had an arrangement with Imperial law enforcement. An arrangement you are violating.”
“Your arrangement was with local law enforcement. An arrangement we will absolutely be looking into, and prosecuting to the fullest extent of the law. We are not local. We don’t make arrangements with gangsters, we arrest them. Come with us, now.”
The two UPE officers lead us out of the bar at gunpoint while the pit boss looks on helplessly. Whatever deal Rizban and the Red Star Boys may have had with the local governor, this casino is located in Imperial space, and there’s nothing they can do to overrule uniformed Imperial officers.
I walk close to Turan as we’re marched through the casino, generating disgusted looks from the people around us. For reasons I can’t understand, my mate doesn’t seem bothered by the situation. He makes eye contact with me, and his look is reassuring.
“You called them,” Rizban snarls at Turan. “You fucking set Imperial law enforcement on me. You thought you were fucking clever didn’t you. Well, we’ll see who gets the last laugh. You don’t even know how much influence I have in this system. Soon, I’ll be free, and you’ll be at my mercy. And this time, I won’t wait for the fucking Empire to get rid of you. I’ll do it myself.”
Soon, we’re at the hangar. This surprises me: under normal circumstances, we would have been checked into whatever police station exists on the Tajiki Comet. These officers don’t seem to be following protocol.
“Where are you taking us?” asks the Dajorkan walking next to me,