Second Chance: Sky Pirate

By R. Richard

Glarney Fered has managed to assume a new identity as Jahn Loght. He has, under contract to the Primitive Culture Police, killed a dangerous criminal alien. The PCP wants to execute Jahn, because they know that he's a Kivosh and will try to acquire life force. Jahn escapes the PCP on a motorcycle and recruits hot looking Risha to hit a casino operation. Jahn plans the casino operation hit and he and Risha take a lot of money. Unfortunately, Risha dies during the burglary.
Jahn then takes the long road and winds up with a lot of money in a large city. Jahn has money, but the PCP, the police and any number of criminals want to kill him. Jahn then tracks an exotic drug to the western city of Delfon. From Delfon, Jahn contacts alien suppliers, talks them out of killing him and even gets them to sell him anti-gravity units that the aliens must have to operate profitably in a planetary gravity well.
Jahn begins to operate as 'the Devil.' The Devil delivers high quality product, using jockeys to fly the grav sleds he gets from the aliens. Needing still more product, Jahn begins to acquire product from his competitors by theft. The Devil's thefts start a drug war. The Devil then arranges to end the drug war, for a price. In order to end the drug war, Jahn has to shoot up an alien spacecraft and eject before it crashes. In a triumph of skill over stupidity, Jahn and his best pilot leave Jahn's suppliers rid of a very bad problem with another advanced culture, earn obscene amounts of money from the other product dealers and set up governmental level connections with the government of his criminal alien suppliers.
Jahn then begins a large scale air piracy operation against other product suppliers. Only the Devil is getting through and yet another drug war starts. To keep a steady supply of product coming in, Jahn uses advanced civilization technology to begin a sky piracy operation against the large seagoing ships that are bringing the raw product into his country.
In order to really conduct a sky piracy operation, Jahn needs a base. He finds the small impoverished island of Fori Novor. However, there is trouble on Fori Novor and Jahn needs a new King to stabilize things. The only real candidate for King is Jahn [now calling himself Justin Imperiale] and he has to kill anyone who gets in his way to wind up as King.
King Justin then begins to run Fori Novor. He creates new jobs and forms agreements with the large country of Averon to allow Fori Novor to grow the spices that only grow in their climate. With the criminals gone, Justin also sets up a tourist business.
The other nations of the planet Corin, where Justin lives then come to him with a problem. It appears that person or persons have been ripping off ship cargoes. Justin points out several solutions to the problems, as outlined. Finally the mighty tell Justin, that the cargoes are illegal drugs. Justin agrees to 'solve the problem.' Of course, Justine has no intent of solving the problem, since he's the problem. However, Justin manages to deflect the blame to others.
The Kingdom of Fori Novor then faces invasion by sea from the major power of Zorran. Justin has two choices. He can use untried advanced technology at the risk of his life or let the PCP, the drug lords and/or various powerful governments in Corin kill him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. Richard
• Release date: Jul 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311676719

R. Richard

I'm the co-author, with Sunset Thomas, of Anatomy of An Adult Film.I have 48 novels and over 299 short stories currently published.I spent my early years in the part of Los Angeles known as the South Central. I was known as Whi' Boy, which was sufficient to identify me in that place. I'm a skilled Kung Fu player, using a system that I learned from a Korean I knew only as 'Pak.' It would be easier to tell you the places that Pak wasn't wanted by the police, rather than the places where he was wanted by the police. Pak's Kung Fu system, augmented by some bits and pieces from some Chinese practitioners is quick and effective, or I wouldn't be alive today.My early education was mostly obtained by stealing books from the public library (I always returned them and the Librarian even began to provide me with reading lists.) I did go to high schools, but I never really learned anything there. I eventually graduated from the University of California at Los Angeles, UCLA, with a degree in mathematics.I work as a Systems Analyst and also make a part of my living as a professional gambler (legal in Nevada.) I write science fiction and erotica. My published novels are:Anatomy of An Adult Film (With Sunset Thomas)1. Second Chance: God Killer2. Second Chance: Sky Pirate3. Second Chance: Scroll Seeker4. Second Chance: King of The Islands5. Second Chance: King of Zaya6. Second Chance: Duke of Averon7. Second Chance: King of Golomon8. Second Chance: King Of The Sky9. Second Chance: Warlord of Ifrequeh10. Second Chance: King of Ariby11. Second Chance: King of Mesodania12. Second Chance: King of Avuls13. Second Chance: King of Kemet14. Second Chance: King of Zorran15. Second Chance: King of Two Worlds16. Second Chance: King of Averon17. Second Chance: King's Duties18. Second Chance: King of The New WorldAdventurer: Simulation ProblemAdventurer: Pannar ProblemA Programmer's GambitAmateur StripperBeach MurdersBondage HouseCorporate Sex SlavesFriday NightGo Naked In The SoftwareGrasshopper WinterInvoluntary NudeLayoffNot A HeroPirates of The KeysSummer of SexThe LakeThe Last Moon DanceThe Nude Adventures of Plain JaneThe Secret Life of Wanda WilsonTails of the Pussycat LoungeTo Keep A JobTopless RestaurantToy WhoresVix: The MarineWayward BoyShort Stories:A Christmas Visit

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Second Chance: Sky Pirate

By R. Richard ©

Published by Club Lighthouse Publishing/R. Richard at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Club Lighthouse Publishing/R. Richard

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Second Chance: Sky Pirate

By R. Richard

A Club Lighthouse Publishing/R. Richard E-Book

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2008 by R. Richard

Cover Art: T.L. Davison © 2008

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely co-incidental.

A Club Lighthouse/R. Richard Sci-Fi Edition

Second Chance: Book II

SKY PIRATE

By R. Richard

CHAPTER 1: The Rider

Riding my newly acquired Berrelli motorcycle, I cruise the back roads, heading West.  Since I have the money that I took from the criminal alien I terminated back in Mervon, I don't need to worry about day to day expenses and I can take my time.  Thus, I stop from time to time at likely looking biker bars along my route.  I have a bit of experience with biker bars from my past days of catching bail jumpers.

Bikers like bikes, particularly big, fast bikes.  Bikers like girls, particularly fast girls.  Bikers don't like 'The Heat,' as the police are none too fondly known in biker circles.  Bikers also don't like the kind of tough, nasty rider that they recognize in me.  They do, however, respect my kind of rider.  I'll take respect over popularity any time.

During my stops at the biker bars I manage to obtain food and drink, such as it is.  I also almost always manage to obtain a bed, with a biker girl, for the night.  I start by chatting with the girls until I find one who's interested and who has her own place.  I then suggest that I need to buy a bottle from a package store and take the girl somewhere where we can be alone.  The idea of a mog who has money and can just buy a bottle of quality booze is very attractive for the average biker groupie girl.  The girl and I usually just ride to a package store and then ride to her apartment and settle in for the night.  I have a place to sleep, with a girl to keep me company.  I also have a place to shower and shave in the morning.  Of course, there's no trace for 'The Heat' to follow.  (You may wonder how much intellectual stimulation I get as a result of my encounters with biker girls.  Actually, most of the biker girls haven't read the list of the 100 greatest books of all time.  Actually, I doubt that some of them can read.  However, if they don't stimulate my brain, there's another one of my organs they usually do a pretty good job with.)

I almost never have a lot of trouble obtaining a biker girl, despite the fact that she may have previously associated with some of the mogs who normally hang around the biker bar.  The kind of people who hang around biker bars rarely have advanced college degrees.  However, they have a good working knowledge of the psychological patterns of people like me.  A rider can always get another biker girl.  Most riders, however, can't get another life.

Over the course of time I arrive, more or less at random, at the outskirts of Clenton.  Clenton is a city typical of the northeast continent.  It's an industrial center, a trucking center, and a shipping center (via the Lazania River).  Clenton isn't actually a cultural center, unless you are one of the kind who count bowling as a cultural pursuit.  There's an old saying, Have a good time in Clenton, ... nobody ever has, but who knows?

As usual, I find the local long distance bus station and put my Klemrov pistol and some of my cash and other possessions into a locker.  I don't need to advertise that I ride armed, not even to a biker girl.  I also don't need to get rolled for a large chunk of cash.

I then ride my bike into the parking lot of ‘The Rider.’  ‘The Rider’ is a biker bar in Zikon, a suburb just south of Clenton.  As is the custom, the good parking spots are reserved for local club members.  I park and lock my Berrelli in a well-lighted spot a way out from the bar.  I'm not too worried about someone trying to steal my bike.  Bikers don't, in general, have a lot of faith in the legal system of our culture.  However, many bikers normally go heavily armed.  Also, if a mog is caught stealing a bike, it's not regarded as a capital crime.  No, a capital crime might get a mog executed after a legal trial and appeals to higher courts.  If bikers catch a mog stealing a bike, they don't waste time on a trial and that sort of fussy little thing.  What they do is form a sort of lynch mob.

I walk over to the front door of ‘The Rider’ and enter cautiously.  Biker bars tend to be a bit disorderly; frequently more than just a bit.  ‘The Rider’ is no exception.  There are the usual run of biker bums drinking or playing cards or shooting pool or whatever.  There are also riders or riders and girls at tables.  There's the usual biker chat going on, which chat continues as they check out the new mog.  Bikers always do a wimp check on each new male rider.  As usual, I pass the wimp check without the need for physical verification. One anus is making a real run at a tall, blonde biker babe at the bar.  He doesn't seem to understand any part of no, not even hell no!  'Head-on hero' puts his arm around the babe's shoulders as he slides onto the next stool.

The problem with the real friendly approach is that it ties up one arm.  The babe pokes for his eyes with her off hand, which thrust the mog more or less blocks.  The babe also hits him in what's usually referred to politely as the groin area, with a yawara.  A yawara is a little item, which looks like a small dumbbell.  It's made of wood or metal and it's a bit more than a hand width high.  The ends aren't rounded, but pointed.  The mog isn't able to block the yawara and one end hits the mog where it's aimed.

The mog starts to curl up into a ball because of the pain of the yawara blow.  I say starts to curl up because the babe then hits him with an Amazon elbow to the face.  The elbow launches him into a backward dive and a tumble.  He ends up at my feet.

I just stand there and say calmly to his unconscious body, Interesting approach.  However, I'm really not looking for a boy.  Why don’t you see if ‘The Heat’ are interested, I understand they like boys.

A motion to one side attracts my attention.  A biker has gotten up and he's swinging an old style motorcycle drive chain.  He starts past me toward the babe.

I say, casually, That chain is a dangerous weapon in the hands of a strong man.  What the hell do you think you're going to do with it, boy?  You could hurt yourself.

For some unknown reason I seem to have offended the boy.   The mog swings the chain at me.  He's a little off balance as he's altered the direction of his movement from toward the bar to toward me.  I go under the sweep of the chain, kick his feet out from under him, and break his chain arm over my knee with a nasty audible snap.  Then I just dump him on top of the other casualty.  I keep the chain, which I continue to twirl as if I just might know how to use it.  Actually, I do know how to use a chain and no, I didn’t just read about it in a book.

I turn and say casually, Babe, if you're finished playing with the little boys, ‘The Man’ sent me to get you.  Perhaps you forgot that you have a little business deal to talk over with him.  ‘The Man’ doesn't like to be kept waiting.

The babe looks at me, then past me and scans the room.  Even if I couldn’t read minds, I could still have felt the anger in the room.  No babe comes into a biker bar and just belts some mog.  Hell, no mog just walks into a bike bar and breaks some biker up.  That is, no mog but ‘The Enforcer.’  'The Enforcer' works for ‘The Man.’  Mess with ‘The Enforcer,’ mess with ‘The Man.’  Mess with ‘The Man,’ you wind up dead or worse.  Mess with ‘The Enforcer,’ you wind up maimed.  The general evaluation of the situation is that it's likely a lose-lose situation.  The anger level in the bar remains below the surface; if only just below the surface.

The blonde eyes me like a pile of stinking garbage.  She asks, Well did ‘The Man’ send his messenger boy just for little me?

I look back at her with a very no nonsense look and say, Actually, my name is capital S, capital I, capital R, SIR!  I spell it out slowly and deliberately.  ‘The Man’ sent me because he figured that his messenger would probably have to kill a couple of mogs to get to you.  I get a lot of these kind of assignments.  Would you like me to show you why?

She says, Oh, I'm just scared to death, SIR.  However, your kind usually run in packs.  I guess that I'll just have to go talk to ‘The Man’.  Oh yes, my name is Risha and I'll ride my own bike.

I say, ’The Man’ doesn't much care how you arrive, just as long as you arrive soon.  By the way, I ride a Berrelli 750 Sporto with a few improvements.  If you try to outrun me, most likely you'll wind up with a nasty case of asphalt rash.  Seems to be going around these days.  You just can’t be too careful out on the road.  You should really be careful, a girl with a pretty face like yours.

Risha glares at me and slowly starts to walk toward the front door.  I parallel her course, doing a little fancy chain handling as I go.  Despite the anger level, no one in the bar sees fit to interfere.  (The general attitude seems to be: I mean, what the hell, ‘The Man’ will take care of her worse than we can.)

We get outside, and Risha is bristling as she turns and faces me, All right, mister tough mog, who the hell are you really?

I lecture, Well, I came to town to try to earn a little money, maybe a lot of money.  When I see a lady, like yourself, sitting in a bar like ‘The Rider,’ I say to myself either there's an insane hooker or there's a business woman trying to find some help for a venture.  Since you didn’t want to sell what lover boy wanted, I figure you're a business woman.   I showed you my resume back there.  Why don't we continue my job interview somewhere where we can talk privately?

Risha asks nastily, How the hell do I know that you aren't a cop?

I say, a bit impatiently, Did you ever see ‘The Heat’ just break some mog's arm and then walk away?  Cops have to do the paperwork after an incident.  Think, lady!

Risha looks me up and down and then says, Look ah, ... SIR, you're pretty good with the muscle.  What I'm looking for is skill, not muscle.

(From Risha's mind, I get a clear picture of a need for someone to provide the skill work for a major burglary.)

I say, Well now, I have both skill and muscle.  I can plan the most efficient entrance to, ... situations.  I can get inside any building; no traces.  I can beat electronic surveillance systems.  I can deal with watchdogs, human or animal.  I can open any kind of office, ... ah storage.  I can plan a low risk exit.  If there's trouble, well you have seen my resume.

Risha is suddenly afraid and says, Well, thanks, but I'm not really interested.

I lecture, Risha, there are a number of people, who make their living off of other people's taxes who are very interested in my whereabouts.  I need a quick hit, lots of cash and a smooth, quiet exit.  I don't need any trouble.  If you had any real choice, you wouldn't have been in 'The Rider.'  Quit wasting your time and my time and let’s talk.

Risha looks me up and down.  Let's go to another bar and talk, just talk.

I say, a bit impatiently, Risha, I just told you that there are a number of people, who make their living off of other people's taxes who are very interested in my whereabouts.  I need to go to a private place, not a public place.  I'm tough.  I'm strong.  I'm vicious.  I have one bad weakness.  I sleep every night I can.  When I'm asleep, I'm vulnerable.  I need a place to sleep.  We go to your place.  We talk.  We plan.  Then I sleep.  You can do what the hell you want.  We both get a little rich, maybe a lot rich.  I leave.  You can do what the hell you want with your half of the money.  Clear?

Risha looks me up and down again.  I don't like your whole damn attitude.  However, I do need help.  Let's go to my place and talk; just talk.  Risha emphasizes the last two words.

CHAPTER 2: Risha

I agree to go to Risha's place.  I say, Let's get some food and drink on the way to our talk.  I'm starving, I'll buy.

I have food, you can get some drink.  Risha says

I'll get some Varanian wine.  We need to stay clear headed while we plan out how we'll get rich.  I tell her.

We stop at a liquor store and I let Risha see me buy the good stuff.  Then we ride over to a house in a quiet area of town, and park the bikes in the garage.

The house is okay, but it's just a little lower class house.  There's nothing fancy as far as furniture or decorations.  I suspect that Risha’s bedroom might be a bit fancier, but I'm going to sleep on a roll out bed in the den.  I don’t need trouble with Risha.

I can see that she's just a lower class girl.  Risha looks like a movie star, but she has no education, no money and lacks the background to move in upper class circles.  Thus, if Risha wants to get rich she can either sell herself or she can steal the money.  Since she obviously doesn’t want to sell herself, she has decided to become a thief.

Risha's not too happy with having me in her house, but she fixes a meal.  We eat, drink my wine and talk while she tries to estimate me.  I, apparently, pass the initial scan.

Risha tries to probe my ability to see past the surface of subjects.

I'm more intelligent than Risha and I'm able not only to see what she sees in many of the subjects, but also to point out things she doesn't see until I point them out.  I have always been able to do this, but it normally just causes anger in the other person.  In this case, it's apparently what Risha wants to see.

Once we finish with our meal, Risha very carefully begins to lay out the project she's trying to staff.  She's obviously worried that she'll give away the details and she tries to hide as much information as practical.

From the information that Risha furnishes, it would appear that ‘The Man’ has a number of gambling operations in and around Clenton.  The gambling operations are illegal and each casino tries to keep a minimum of cash on hand, in case of a police raid.  Risha has stumbled upon a would be lover who's involved in the accounting end of the gambling operations.  She knows where a central money handling operation can be found. All of the cash earnings of the casinos flow through the central money handling operation.  The individual casinos don't necessarily earn all that much cash, but there are a lot of casinos and the total amount of money earned in the area is considerable.

Risha not only knows where the money is but also when there will be a large amount of cash on hand and also a little bit about the central money handling operation.  Risha has written what she knows into a report to collect all of the information, but she's not willing to let me read the report.

I start cautiously, "Risha, I don't need trouble.  Again, if you had any real choice, you wouldn't have been in ‘The Rider.’  Quit wasting my time.  Give me the location of the operation.  I'll scout the location out tomorrow night.  I'll then make up my own report.  We can then share our information.  You'll see that my information will easily be the majority of what we know.  The two items you have, that