“Obviously,” Sam echoed.
“Let’s say you also buy some weaker steel, maybe from your own company under another relative’s name or an associate’s business. If you switch out one for the other you’ve got the good steel which you can resell to another manufacturer or even back to Global Transport while supplying the original builder with the bad steel. Switch out substandard materials again and do it a third time, a fourth. Every time you’re making money by selling good steel and delivering garbage.”
“Wait.” Sean put up his hand. “You’re losing me here. Who’s making the money? Global Transport is still paying a thousand, right?”
“Yes. But instead of a thousand credits of steel you’ve got two hundred creds of slag pretending to be as durable. It’s got to pass through inspections on multiple levels which means people are being paid off to falsify qualifications and paperwork.” Catherine went to rub at a burned area on her arm and paused, holding back. “The extra eight hundred isn’t all used up in bribes and such and any profit is still a profit. Now multiply that by a hundred, a thousand. The remaining money is funneled into various bank accounts, accounts held by GT executives who are making money by putting out crappy ships. And the crappy ships are having catastrophic hull failures.”
“I haven’t seen anything in the news feeds,” Sam said.
“Not many of them were for our civilian orders. The majority were for the military.”
Sam stood a little straighter, her gaze more focused.
“What type of ships?”
“Transports.” She waved an ointment-smeared hand in the air. “The big ones. They mixed the bad steel in with the good so if something gave way it’d be a small accident, nothing big. In theory.” Catherine looked directly at Sam. “Remember the Arnold Jones?”
Sam swallowed hard. “One of yours?”
She nodded.
“Damn.” She shook her head. “It was a bad one. Explosive decomp in the barracks area. Two hundred dead. The investigation said human error, though.”
“Payoffs.” Catherine shrugged. “Nothing new there. The section that gave way had more than the usual amount of bad steel mixed in. They got greedy with their percentages and they got caught.”
“Or they will be,” Sean added. “You put together the numbers and realized what was going on. But if the bad guys know you survived your ship being destroyed—”
Catherine nodded. “Your ship might become a target. That’s why I wanted to talk to you right away. What sort of defensive systems do you carry?”
Sam chuckled. “Nothing. We’re a Mercy ship.” There was a heavy dose of sarcasm in the last sentence. “We’ve got some knock-out and tear gas for internal use if there’s a problem but no exterior armament. Your luxury yacht probably had better protection.”
“Captain?” Belle spoke. “I have Marshal LeClair on the line.”
“I’ll take it in my quarters.” She looked at Catherine. “Let me discuss it with him and see what we can come up with.”
“Why weren’t you in protective custody?” Sean couldn’t resist asking. “The UNS must have known it’d be dangerous for you to stay active at work with this trial coming up.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be public knowledge.” Catherine coughed again. “Only a handful of execs knew the case was even happening. My involvement was supposed to be secret and my appearance at trial a surprise. We thought we’d hidden all traces of my digging, kept my identity private.”
“Not so much,” Sam answered. “I’ve got to brief Daniel on this. And you need to—” She stopped, at a loss for words.
“I’ve already asked Jenny to set up the empty suite for her to rest in,” Sean added, seeing Sam’s confusion. The captain knew how to break up a fight and how to deal with irate customers.
She didn’t know what to do with this executive sitting on a table in the Belle’s galley. Sean continued, “She needs to lie down for a bit and recover from her recent experiences.” He crossed his arm. “That’s my medical opinion.”
Sam nodded. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands, then.” She touched her right hand to her temple in a lazy salute. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
She trotted toward the door at the far end of the galley that led to the cockpit and her own quarters, leaving them alone.
Catherine shivered despite the blanket on her shoulders. She stared straight ahead at the wall, a stoic mask settling on her face.
Sean had seen people do this before, retreat into themselves after a traumatic event.
All he could offer right now was a comfortable bed for her to rest and recover. Her mental health was something she’d have to deal with later.
He hopped off the table. “Come. Let’s get you settled.” He raised his voice. “Belle, can you ask Jenny if the room’s ready?”
“She says—” The AI paused. “I am not allowed to repeat some of those words but yes, the suite is ready for Ms. Rogers.”
“Good.” Sean offered his arm.
She looked at it as if it were an alien tentacle before taking it and sliding off the table to stand up. Her first few steps were shaky but she regained control quickly, releasing him as soon as she found her footing. By the time she made it to the hatch she was striding as if she owned the Bonnie Belle.
Sean led her into the hallway and down to the end suite, the last of the six courtesan suites on the Bonnie Belle.
She paused as he put his hand on the handle. “What’s this?”
“An empty room.” He didn’t feel like going into the details about how they came to be running one short of a full crew. “Don’t worry, Jenny’s set it up for you to rest in. It may not be the most luxurious quarters, but you need to rest.”
“This is—” She couldn’t form the words.
“Yes. Mine is right next door.” He pointed at the nearby entrance. “Now let’s get you inside.” He swung the door open and waited.
She gave him a suspicious look, pressing her lips into a tight line before going inside.
Sean followed. “Let me give you the ten-second tour.” He waved a hand around the first room they’d entered. “As you can see you’ve got a nice table here and some chairs, a sort of living room if you’d like. To your right is your personal bedroom—”
“Wait.” She put her hand up, silencing him. “What’s to the left?”
He paused, unsure on how to proceed. All of the courtesan quarters were the same, a Y-shaped series of rooms for them to live and work in.
One of the first rules was that you separated business and pleasure. Two bedrooms but only one you actually slept in.
“Ah.” For one of the first times since he’d signed on with the Guild Sean felt self-conscious about his work. “The other bedroom. That’s for business.”
“That’s where you conduct your ‘business’?” The cool, disapproving tone wasn’t new to him. He’d heard it a hundred times before when he talked about Guild business to anyone who wasn’t a possible client or a member.
“Yes.”
“I want to look around.” It was a statement not a question. “I’ve never been aboard a Mercy ship.”
He hesitated. “You’re tired and injured. Maybe you should rest first—”
Catherine stepped forward and brushed him aside with the ease of a senior executive handling one of her minions. “I’m not that hurt.” She walked into the business bedroom.
Sean followed to see her standing in front of the bed, the bare mattress lying on the king-sized bed frame. No sheets, no pillows.
No show, his inner voice murmured.
“Interesting.” She ran her hand down one of the four varnished wooden bedposts. “Why do these go up to the ceiling?” Catherine began to stretch up and stopped, grimacing.
“Usually there’s no grav
ity here unless the client pays for it.” He poked the mattress. “You could pull this to whatever height you’d like depending on what you’re interested in.”
Her eyes went wide and he tried to imagine what she was thinking.
He failed miserably.
“Hmm.” She looked around the room. “No one currently living here?”
Sean chose his words with care. “We had a recent transfer out. Waiting for a replacement to take her spot.”
That was enough dirty laundry for one day.
“But that’s ancient history.” He waved her back toward the front of the suite. “Jenny put some sheets and blankets on the bed in the other room so you can lie down and let those burns start healing. There’s also a private bathroom if you’d like to freshen up.”
Catherine followed him back through the arrival room and into the other bedroom. “Is there any way I can get some clean clothing?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’d love to shower but I’m not keen on putting the same smoky burnt rags back on. Sort of defeats the purpose.” She lifted her bare left arm to display the dangling pieces of fabric. “Not to mention pretty well worthless.”
“Let me see what I can do.” Sean patted the bed, made up with starched white sheets and an old-country quilt atop it, the fat triangles and squares adding a homespun touch to the room. He’d never seen the quilt before and suspected it came from Jenny’s private store, very much a non-courtesan look.
He had to hand it to her—the mechanic could work her magic in a variety of ways. With the simple addition of a folksy quilt the room looked like any other crew quarters on any other ship. “Meanwhile, you need to rest. You’ve had quite the shock to your system and you need some time to recover.”
Catherine stretched out atop the quilt with a pained gasp. She put up her hand before Sean could react. “I’m fine. Sore from being tossed around, I guess. Those pods aren’t built to be comfortable.”
“Would you like some painkillers?”
She paused. “No. I can’t afford to be dozy right now. Not if I have to talk to the marshal and your captain again. Thanks for the offer, though. I’ll keep it in mind if the pain gets much worse.” She winced and her jaw clenched tight. “I’m fine,” she repeated.
He tilted his head to one side. “You’re not going to be able to rest if you’re hurting.”
“I’ll survive,” she replied.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine.” The tone left no room for discussion.
Sean nodded, conceding the battle for the moment. “Okay. If you have any problems, call Belle. She’ll call me and I’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Belle who?” Catherine asked. “Did I meet her already? Was she in the landing bay when you brought me in?”
“Yes. And no. Belle?” Sean raised his voice.
“Yes?” The mellow tone brought the executive up, propping herself up on her elbows, her gaze darting around the room.
Catherine frowned. “The computer AI? She’s listening in on us? And everyone on the ship?” There was a note of fear in her voice.
Sean couldn’t blame her, given recent events. She had to wonder who she could trust.
“No.” Sean smiled. “The Guild is very protective of their clients and all information is kept confidential. Belle’s only there to be called on in case of an emergency.”
He didn’t feel like going into what sort of emergencies could arise in a courtesan’s cabin.
“But right now with the cabin being kept empty she’s allowed to be active all the time to make sure it stays secure and in good shape. If you have any problems or concerns speak up and she’ll do her best to help you. She can contact me or the captain, provide food and drink or some sort of entertainment to help you relax.”
“Please feel free to call on me for assistance,” Belle added. “I will be available at all times.”
Catherine shifted on the bed and tucked a pillow under her head. “Thank you both.” She closed her eyes. “I’ll call if I need anything.”
“I’ll go work on getting you some clothing.” Sean waited a few seconds longer, watching her rest. There was no ointment, no cream that could remove the trauma she’d suffered.
He could only hope she’d come out the other side stronger for it.
The hatch swung shut behind him with a soft click as he stepped into the hallway.
“How is she doing?” Kendra leaned out of her suite, watching him intently.
“As well as could be expected under the circumstances. Would you perhaps have some extra clothing in Catherine’s size? She’d like to take a shower but there’s not much left of her own outfit. We may not mind walking about near-naked but I doubt she’s ready for that.”
Kendra smiled. “Let me see what she’ll deem acceptable for an executive at her level.”
Sean put up his hands. “I’m not going to get into that. What you wear, or don’t wear, is your business.”
“Yes.” She laughed. “And I’m very good at it. So go back to your quarters and get yourself cleaned up.” She wrinkled her nose. “You smell like you’ve been sitting around a campfire and hugging a piece of charcoal.”
“That’s probably the least of our problems right now.” Sean rubbed his chin. “I don’t know how she’s going to cope with all this.”
“‘This’ being that people are out to kill her.” Kendra crossed her arms. “I’m no fool. Ships don’t blow up by accident, not those luxury models. There’s more to this, isn’t there?”
He licked his lips, unsure what to say.
“Sean, what happens to one of us affects all of us.” She swept an arm out. “We’re all in this together.”
“The captain—”
“Sam’s got her own problems to deal with and I doubt she’ll find much fault in you telling me what the hell is going on.” Kendra frowned. “Don’t make me work for it, Sean. You know I hate that.”
He bit his lower lip. He hadn’t been technically sworn to secrecy and Kendra was the senior courtesan on board.
“Catherine found major corruption at Global Transport. She’s scheduled to testify against her own company at an upcoming trial. Obviously it was important enough for them to try and kill her. Sam’s getting hold of Daniel and the Guild to find out what to do.” He studied her face, curious if she’d show any reaction.
Whatever they’d gone through together on the Belle or before on other ships hardly could hold a candle to this.
Kendra’s expression didn’t change. “You know they’re going to find out she’s still alive soon enough. Someone will talk to someone and the killers will figure out she’s on board. She’s put us all in danger.”
Sean didn’t feel like informing her Sam had already sent out a message to Global Transport.
“We’re not going to shoot her back out into space in the life pod just to save our skins.” His voice was hoarser, harsher than he’d planned. “She wouldn’t survive that, physically or mentally.”
“You know that’s not going to happen.” She eyed him. “I get that you’re concerned. What I’d like to know is if you’re more worried about her from a medical point of view or as a man looking at a beautiful woman. Because you sure aren’t looking at her as a Guild courtesan right now.”
Sean opened his mouth for a snappy retort but found himself speechless.
Chapter Four
Obviously karma wasn’t only a bitch—she loved to rip open old wounds and dig inside.
That was the only reason Catherine could find for fate shoving her onto a Mercy ship.
She resisted the urge to get up, choosing instead to stay down and take stock of her injuries.
Both physical and mental.
The burns didn’t feel too bad thanks to the numbing cream but that wouldn’t last. Her le
ft shoulder ached, pushed to the limit by her escape. She could feel the tension in her back twisting the muscles into tight knots.
She was on a ship.
Not a military ship. Not a civilian transport. Not even a damned garbage scow.
A Mercy ship.
Never in a million years—
She opened her eyes and studied the ceiling. She’d never been a fan of weightlessness, choosing to have the gravity on as much as was possible for her off-planet trips. It was amazing she hadn’t thrown up all over herself in the short time she’d spent in the life pod.
Compared to the fate of the rest of her ship’s crew she’d gotten off easy.
All those good people, dead.
She flipped through the mental roster.
Corinne. An anxious young woman, eager to please and looking forward to working her way up the business ladder. She’d helped Catherine organize her files. She hadn’t known the actual contents, the corruption Catherine was about to reveal, but she’d done everything Catherine asked of her without question.
Now Corinne was dead, her body floating among the shredded debris in space. She’d never get that promotion Catherine was going to recommend her for, transferring her to another division and hopefully safe from the fallout from the investigation.
Andy.
She licked her lips, tasting the cold coffee from the Belle’s galley.
He deserved better than to be burned alive and shot out into a vacuum, his body mangled and warped beyond recognition.
His family would have to have a closed-casket funeral. There was nothing for them to bury.
Along with the other crew members. She didn’t even know all their names and now they were dead.
She coughed and tried to hold back the hysteria building inside. Her hand went up to her locket, touching the cool metal.
The data crystal was safe inside, holding all the evidence she’d gathered. That information and her testimony would make the bastards pay.
A gentle but persistent rapping started at the front door.
In the Void Page 4
