Jerome ceased pouting. He preferred to run the Otua without an organic sentient onboard. He could be more daring in plotting its path.
“I’m sorry, Thelma, but we won’t need you any longer.”
Chapter 3
Thelma hitched a ride to Zephyr on a Navy supply ship. After a cheerful good-bye to the crew, she strode along the concourse to the Sheriff’s Office. It was a hundred times busier than normal. In among the crowd, a couple of spacedock workers nodded a greeting, and a Customs officer showed a willingness to linger and chat, although he winced at the noise as a boisterous party went past them. Thelma smiled sympathetically as she shook her head and pointed to the Sheriff’s Office. The Customs officer nodded and continued in the opposite direction.
In the office, Owen, the receptionist, welcome her with open arms. Literally. The yprr engulfed her in a four appendaged hug. His usually fashionable appearance was drooping a little, like his toupee. His chitinous body had smudges. Since Owen was fastidious, all the signs pointed to overwork.
The crowd of unhappy spacers in the reception area confirmed it. They glared and muttered at Thelma’s special treatment, and those mutters increased in volume as Owen ushered her through to Max’s office, and closed the door.
He leaned against it.
“Have you told Max you’re so overworked?”
“I had four helpers and they’ve all quit! Ay-yi. All the crazies from all around the galaxy, they have to gather here. And complain, complain, complain. The Navy won’t listen—sensible people—so they come here.”
Thelma sat on Max’s desk. She’d planned to call him and work out how best to return to the Lonesome, but Owen needed her. “How can I help?”
Owen snickered. “You are doing it now. Listening to me complain. It is all right. I have reinforcements arriving. I am not normal for yprr. We are not people-people.”
Thinking of the gruff yprr she’d met in the past, Thelma appreciated the magnitude of that understatement.
“I have hired my uncle and five of my cousins, plus two of my aunts.” Determination and a wicked gleam of vengeance flashed in his eyes as his two antennae quivered. “People can see how they like complaining to them! The Customs Office has given us extra room to process the horde of complainants.” He snickered again. “It was self-protection. People were trying to complain to Customs when the queue snaked out the door here. My cousins are setting things up now.”
The comms unit banded to his left first leg chimed. He twisted to view it. “My aunts have arrived.”
“Go, go.” Thelma shooed him out. “I’ll stay in here and call Max.”
“The office is secure,” Owen said. “I’ve prioritized security sweeps. We’ll catch up later.”
Thelma understood his preoccupation. He was in survival mode. Curiosity was a luxury discarded during a crisis. “I’ll do a lunch run in two hours. Your family included.”
“Bribery!” He chortled, and opened the door. He found himself unexpectedly face to face with a human woman, and scuttled back two steps. “Agent Tennyson!”
Aubree Tennyson looked beyond him to Thelma. “I’m calling in my favor.”
For the Galactic Justice agent to arrive on Thelma’s heels meant the matter was urgent.
Thelma took a deep breath, walked around the desk, and sat in Max’s chair. “Okay.” Favors were the most important form of currency in the Saloon Sector, and absolutely essential to an information broker like Thelma. She had to honor her debts.
Owen shuffled out, but let the door slam, registering his objection to Aubree’s presence.
Even as she appropriated Max’s office, Thelma was aware that Max wasn’t a fan of Aubree, either.
The woman was a very successful agent.
While Aubree looked to be in her mid-twenties, her appearance was courtesy of rejuvenation treatments. In fact, she was in her late forties. The expensive cut of her matching black jacket and skirt, worn with a vivid orange blouse, conveyed an aura of professional competence. She could have been a lawyer or accountant, rather than a spook. She sank into the visitor’s chair, knees together and angled slightly to the side. Her shoes were sharp, shiny black heels. “I have an asset stranded at the Deadstar Diner. Ululani is a bunyaphi.”
The bunyaphi were the Federation’s newest member species. They were a monotreme, winged humanoid species remarkable for their belligerence with an average adult height of three to four feet. They were shorter even than the cuddly koala-like urselves and significantly slighter. They could also hold a grudge for centuries and their clan wars were infamous.
“As far as the clan aboard Ululani’s ship is aware, she’s an ordinary crew member. A cook. Unfortunately, a second clan is en route for the Deadstar Diner, due to arrive within the day.”
Thelma blinked. “The wormhole from Boldire is at the other end of the Saloon Sector to the Deadstar Diner. Why would they travel that distance? They’d have had to skirt the Space Rodeo arena—”
“Ululani’s captain took them through the Badstars.”
“Huh.” Thelma reminded herself that the bunyaphi didn’t think the same way as other people. The Federation’s warning to stay out of the Badstars because of the danger of bandits and randomly occurring natural hazards like delta magma flows, craiks and hazan fields would be a clarion call to bunyaphi daredevils. Surviving the Badstars would enhance their reputations.
Just surviving the perilous wormhole from the Boldire Sector to the Saloon Sector was a feat. Only Navy and a few Galactic Justice vessels were officially rated to traverse perilous wormholes. The bunyaphi crew would have gone through without insurance.
Aubree sighed. “The summary of the situation is that while the heads of the three bunyaphi clans were meeting with the Senate Worlds Development Committee in Boldire with the stated aim of negotiating peace.” The all-in clan war had lasted for a century. Peace was far from guaranteed. “The hotheaded next generation of leadership in each clan commandeered ships and traversed the wormhole successfully to arrive here in the Saloon Sector. I believe the third ship is stranded making repairs.”
“Why the diner?” Thelma asked.
“My understanding is that it’s not a planned rendezvous point. In fact, I suspect that each party thought they’d avoid the others by basing themselves at a remote refueling station rather than in the thick of the Space Rodeo.” Aubree refolded her hands. “Don’t quote me, but in my opinion it’s the similarity of bunyaphi thinking that has kept them feuding. Thinking the same, they all desire the same thing.”
“Which apparently isn’t peace.” Thelma watched her visitor carefully.
For Aubree to provide so much information, even if it was merely contextual, meant the favor she sought was substantial. The agent’s network in the Saloon Sector was older and better established than Thelma’s. If she needed Thelma’s assistance to extract her bunyaphi agent, then it was likely that Aubree wanted to tap into Max’s network—and the favor Thelma owed Aubree was nowhere near large enough to warrant asking Max for his help. So Aubree had to be convincing.
Her expression was confident, sincere and faintly worried. It said, trust me.
“Sadly not,” Aubree said, responding to Thelma’s comment on the small likelihood of peace in the Boldire Sector. “They all wish to be the victor and ruler. But to return to Ululani. She’s one of the few bunyaphi I met during my fieldwork in Boldire who does desire peace and is willing to venture outside of bunyaphi tradition to achieve it. She’s a spy. Not a very good one by human standards, but by the standards of the blunt bunyaphi, Ululani is a master of illusion and intrigue. The problem is that the second ship holds people who’ll recognize her, and blow her cover. Then two clans will be after her for inconceivable-to-them treachery.”
All of which meant that Ululani had to be extracted immediately. And extracted was the key. There was little value in asking Darlene, the owner-manager of the Deadstar Diner, to offer the bunyaphi cook refuge. Ululani needed to be gone.
> Thelma had visited the diner often enough to have a fair idea of who would be there, by type if not by specific individual. For all of the hoopla associated with the Space Rodeo, the ordinary business of the Saloon Sector continued.
There would be surveyors at the Deadstar Diner, likely at least one Customs vessel, and asteroid miners. Then there was the mercenary group Darlene had hired to provide security for the length of the Space Rodeo plus a month. “Aubree, you have more contacts than me. You can ask someone at the diner to take Ululani aboard.”
“Three things work against that simple solution.” She crossed her legs at the ankles. “The first is that I can’t be connected to Ululani’s departure from the refueling station even via a confidential request to one of my contacts. The second is that Ululani’s departure has to look natural. She will ask if anyone is looking to take on crew. Her cover story for her escape will be that now that she’s out of the Boldire Sector, she wants to look around and explore.”
“A cook is welcome most places,” Thelma said.
“A surveyor’s ship is too small. Asteroid miners are too rough for a single bunyaphi female to risk herself with them—and her supposed clan wouldn’t let her go with them.”
Thelma’s family were independent asteroid miners. She bit back her objection to Aubree’s generalization. The agent was trying to push her buttons. In the Rock Sector where Thelma grew up there were good and bad people, same as everywhere.
Silence got Thelma her answer.
“Ululani will be safest with Helen Zhou.”
If Helen was at the Deadstar Diner, Thelma would have to agree. Helen Zhou was a scarily capable woman. She was also Thelma’s friend. “Is the Dobbin at the diner already? Helen’s made good time.”
“It is and she has.”
“So why don’t you ask her directly?”
“Because you owe me a favor—”
Thelma leaned back. “No. Not one this large. Not putting a friend in danger.”
Helen Zhou was an independent trampship owner, also the combined captain and crew of the Dobbin. The old ship was spaceworthy. Thelma had even been aboard. As slow as the Dobbin travelled, there was plenty of time for visiting. The two women had worked together to find homes for a clutch of dragons abandoned at an asteroid mining station. The Lonesome had very nearly gained a mini whirlwind of destruction. It was the appearance of the comet helices that prevented it. Adding training a dragon to the chaos of a Space Rodeo would have been insane.
Helen had kept a male dragon. Katu featured in the occasional message from the Dobbin to the Lonesome.
Aubree leaned forward, voice earnest. “Helen won’t be in danger. The Dobbin will be away without anyone questioning Ululani’s extraction. Uncomplicated plans work the best, and the bunyaphi are even worse than humans at underestimating their women.”
Playing the feminist card didn’t work with Thelma. In fact, it made her more wary.
Aubree noticed. She straightened. “Arrange for Helen to extract Ululani, and I’ll owe you another favor. If I asked, Helen would reject the request outright. There’s some anger from events a few years back. If you present this the right way, Helen will help Ululani even if she guesses that the request originally came from me.”
“I’d tell her,” Thelma said uncompromisingly.
Aubree nodded, accepting Thelma’s right to do so.
Thelma stared at the image of a cabin by a deep blue lake that was displayed on a wallscreen. She and Max had holidayed there, his first proper vacation in years.
If Helen was already at the Deadstar Diner, than she was the best option for rescuing the bunyaphi. Helen had a quiet aura of danger that suggested that once she took responsibility for Ululani, the bunyaphi would be safe. To the bunyaphi clan, what they’d see was a young woman solo crewing a trampship and taking the opportunity to have respectable company on a long journey.
The Dobbin couldn’t be a more boring and reassuring refuge than if it had been planned as one. Helen was in the process of transporting a cargo of old agricultural equipment and seeds from Braw to Levanter. Journeying three quarters of the length of the Saloon Sector with that sort of cargo, she’d barely cover costs. It was Helen being a good person.
The colonists of Levanter had recently deposed their former cult leader from his position as planetary governor. The trampship and its haul string full of agricultural equipment and stock would help cement the new governor’s position. Although having met Earle Tennant and his family, Thelma was confident in his ability to hold that role even without the practical morale boost of Helen’s cargo.
“Okay.” Thelma looked at Aubree. “I’ll arrange for Ululani’s extraction. Although whether or not Helen is the means of rescuing your bunyaphi asset, my favor with you is met. Same terms as your original favor when you arranged for Rudy Gua’s job offer, whether or not he accepted it.”
“He did.” Aubree’s answer was a calculated show of goodwill. She hadn’t had to tell Thelma that information. In fact, Covert Ops agents’ identities were classified.
Thelma hesitated, unsure how she felt to learn that her favor, the recipient of which would never know of her involvement, had succeeded.
Rudy Gua had been her classmate for four years at the Galactic Justice academy. She’d resented him, viewing him as the epitome of core-world privilege. His mother, the former Senator Gua, had in turn resented Thelma for what she considered an unspeakable affront: even with all the advantages Gua gave her son, he consistently came second to Thelma.
When Thelma graduated top of their class, Senator Gua had schemed and gotten her exiled. It hadn’t been difficult. Thelma’s punishment assignment to the Saloon Sector had been meant to send a message. President Smith might believe in the Equal Opportunities he spoke about, but many around him actively opposed it. Core-worlders protected their privilege. Hard-working, intelligent out-worlders couldn’t be allowed to succeed.
Getting Thelma exiled had turned out to be one of Senator Gua’s biggest mistakes. Exceeded, though, by attempting to kill her.
Rudy had tried half-heartedly to intervene. He’d warned Thelma to be careful. It was little enough, but living and working on the frontier had convinced her that everyone deserved a second chance. Now it was up to Rudi whether his career crashed with his mom’s fall from grace or whether he salvaged a life as a Covert Ops agent.
“I’ll contact Helen,” Thelma said.
Aubree departed.
After a deep breath, Thelma ignored the comms unit on Max’s desk, rose and completed a security sweep of the office. Dealing with an agent like Aubree required paranoia.
The sweep came up clean.
Sitting in the visitor’s chair, Thelma put a call through to Helen. The trampship captain would respond better to a straightforward request than to a carefully calibrated strategic approach, so Thelma opened bluntly. “Aubree Tennyson wants a favor from you, through me. It’s time sensitive.”
“That woman.” Helen halted. “You think this is important?” Her question was almost a statement.
“There’s a bunyaphi female…” Thelma outlined Ululani’s predicament.
Midway through, Helen requested audio transmission switch to video.
The slightly increased lag time in responses was minor. Zephyr and the Dobbin were in the same sector.
Thelma broke off her description of the handover and code phrase to extract Ululani from the Deadstar Diner as Katu claimed the screen. “Ooh, pretty boy. Haven’t you grown?”
A talon with silver claws patted the screen.
Helen laughed. A few seconds later, the screen showed her sitting on the floor with Katu wrestled onto her lap.
The lanky juvenile dragon batted at the captain’s arms.
The spread of dragons through space was a result of a savvy rebranding exercise a couple of decades ago. The species had originated on the saurelles’ home world, where the saurelle regarded the forearm-long reptiles as vermin. Their Saurellian name was ratsa. A hu
man merchant had noticed a resemblance, albeit in miniature, to ancient Earth stories of dragons and had renamed the species. Spacers, in particular, had been captivated by the small creatures. Their robust physiologies, which contributed to their vermin status on their home world, was a benefit on spaceships and colonies. Add in their good-natured, curious personalities and they were a hit—briefly. Their one drawback was their scales. Scales lack the cuddle factor. Soon cats regained their top of the pyramid status as space pets, and dragons became a mostly forgotten oddity.
As Helen played with Katu, it was such a picture of happiness that Thelma felt a sharp stab of regret that she’d even thought of drawing Helen into espionage games. “I’ll find someone else,” she said abruptly.
Helen was barely a couple of years older than Thelma, but her time hadn’t been spent at college. The scars of real world experience showed in her reactions. She had the same trained-for-violence instincts as Max, although she never mentioned a military background.
Helen’s smile was friendly yet sharp as she scratched Katu’s scaled belly. “An information broker has to be tougher than that…but I appreciate the thought. This isn’t on you. I’d have extracted the bunyaphi if Aubree had asked me directly. She’s playing games. I told her—” Helen cut off, then started again.
“I’ve cleaned up Aubree’s messes before. An agent like her keeps her hands clean by outsourcing the blood.” Katu stretched up and head butted her chin. Helen rolled him in a ball, a game the dragon enjoyed. “The bunyaphi have rules for their clan wars. Captured enemies are treated well, but only if they’re considered both honorable and worth something in trade. A bunyaphi like Ululani, a spy, they’d cut her wings off and keep her alive. Wingless bunyaphi…”
Helen stared at the camera, straight at Thelma. “Ululani can travel with me to Levanter. On the return trip I’ll find somewhere for her to hitch a lift either back to Boldire or to lose herself in the galaxy. I was thinking of visiting Mistral.”
Space Rodeo Page 4
