The Dying Light
Page 15
When the Kesh noticed Roche watching her, she snarled and shut the door.
“You certainly have an eclectic crew,” she commented to Disisto.
“This is an accommodation area reserved for some of the more sensitive members, which is why we shouldn’t be here at all. But we have the okay from the chief to proceed.” His voice was relaxed, but his eyes scolded her. “I know you’re curious, Commander, but you need to be more considerate.”
“Careful, you mean?”
“That too.” Haid and Synnett reached them, and Disisto indicated the corridor ahead of them. “Shall we keep going? At a more leisurely pace, this time.”
The walk to the main docking bay revealed little. Doors that were open only revealed empty rooms, and Roche was unable to gain access to a palm-link. By the time she reached the scutter, she had decided that entering the black spot had given her a moral victory only.
She left the scutter and joined the others. “Where to now?” she asked Disisto.
“Back to the dry dock?” he suggested.
“Actually, the walk has left me thirsty. How about a drink? You must have a recreation deck here. I’ll buy you one, if they accept COE credit.”
Disisto studied her for a long moment, then said: “Okay, if that’s what you want.”
Roche was unable to read his expression. “When Rufo and Lieutenant Gold have finished, we can join them then.”
Disisto nodded as he began to walk. “The main bar is back in the Hub.”
Roche followed, no longer trying to provoke him. There was very little else she could do until they reached the bar. After the disappointment of the one black spot they had entered, she didn’t see any point in trying to access others. There were too many, to begin with, and Disisto would undoubtedly put a stop to it before long.
The bar was deep in the heart of Galine Four, occupying a large space between protein vats and the plant-filled central chamber. It consisted of three rooms connected to a central chamber by wide accessways. In each of the three rooms there was a semicircular bar and numerous tables. The lighting was dim, as befitted a bar, and the sound of voices and glasses clinking along with occasional spurts of Roptio ur-music added to the ambience. The central area comprised a quarter-size dueling field, surrounded by seats.
A fight was in progress as they entered. The supporters of each combatant had clustered in groups to watch the hologram, cheering and jeering in equal measure.
Roche hooked a thumb at the scene. “A recording, I presume?”
“Must be something they pulled out of the archives,” said Disisto, “because we haven’t received any transmissions from outside the system for ages. Anything to keep the hardcore fans happy.”
Roche glanced at Haid, caught him staring at the game in curiosity. “Ameidio?”
He turned to her. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
She smiled. Haid had been confined to a penal planet for more years than he cared to remember. Dueling was a pleasure he had missed, and he had spent several days catching up on it upon finding freedom aboard the Ana Vereine. Even now, he obviously felt its call.
“What do you want to drink?” she asked.
Haid shrugged. “Anything that’s not too strong.”
“Disisto? Synnett?”
“We’re on duty,” Disisto said. He nodded to a doorway beyond the dueling field. “We can order through there.”
He led them past the fight and into one of the side rooms where it was quieter and less crowded. A number of patrons were Exotic, and clearly appreciated the space. They found a table and sat: Haid and Roche on one side, with Disisto and Synnett facing them.
There was an awkward silence.
“So,” ventured Roche, “how do I order?”
“There’s a palm-link on your chair, if you want to use that. Otherwise, I can call an attendant.”
“The link will be fine.” She found the pad on the arm of her chair and placed her hand upon it.
She had spied someone crossing the room toward her.
“Morgan!” called Myer Mavalhin. “Fancy meeting you down here. I thought you’d be up with the big shots for sure.”
Roche stood. “Hello, Myer.”
Disisto glanced behind him. “Mavalhin?”
Mavalhin’s step faltered upon seeing the dock security head. “Oh, it’s you.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Myer? I’ll be having words with the ingress team about letting you out of decon so early.”
“Hey, don’t go too hard on them,” the pilot protested. “It wasn’t their fault.”
“Then I’ll be talking to you instead.”
“In that case, it was entirely their fault.” He winked at Roche. “But seeing as I’m here, I might as well stay, right?”
“Don’t look at me, Myer,” said Roche. “I’m only a guest.”
Disisto shook his head and sighed. “Just remember you’re on probation, all right?”
Mavalhin pulled up a chair and sat. “So, what’re we drinking?”
Roche hid a smile. Nothing had changed. “I’ll get this round,” she said, “but after that you’re on your own.”
Myer smiled appreciatively. “I’ll have a snifter of Old Gray.”
Roche relayed the order to the Box just as an attendant arrived with her first order. Haid nodded approval at the long-stemmed glass containing a murky brown mixture, and Roche raised her own colorless drink to her lips and toasted Disisto. Synnett drank without acknowledging anyone.
Sipping the cool, clear liquid made Roche realize just how thirsty the meeting and the walk had left her. She swallowed gratefully, then sipped again.
“It’s a long way from Bodh Gaya,” she said to Mavalhin after a third sip.
“But here we are,” he said. “I heard you stayed with COE in the end. Looks like you’ve done all right with them.”
She was careful to hide her true feelings. “I can’t complain. It does get boring at times, but I prefer the security of a regular job. And it’s not that restrictive. I spent a few years in Intelligence before transferring to active command. It’s been fun, mostly.” She did her best to maintain an air of self-composure and confidence. “You?”
He lifted his shoulders slightly. “Tried the Eckandar Trade Axis for a while, then a private freight company out past Tretamen. The bottom went out of the market and the company folded, and that left me in the lurch. I worked as a freelance courier for a few years, before finally signing on with Galine Four.”
Disisto snorted. “Courier, eh? I heard you were on the run from Olmahoi creditors and needed cash to avoid grayboot retribution.”
Mavalhin gestured dismissively. “Exaggeration and rumor. Yes, money was short, but it never got that bad.”
Roche could tell by the tightness around his eyes that it probably had been that bad. Rufo would have been able to purchase his services at a bargain price. Regardless of his personal flaws, Mavalhin’s credentials would have been impressive; few people left the COE College so close to finishing, and their services were desired in many quarters of the region.
“So what is it you do here, anyway?” she asked.
<
br /> Mavalhin opened his mouth to reply, but caught Disisto’s reproving look. He stopped, smiled, and said: “I’m just a pilot, Morgan. Nothing spectacular. I gave up on the dream of making something of myself. There’s a place for everyone, I’ve learned, and I guess this is mine.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Myer I once knew.”
“Well, I’ve changed, I guess.”
Roche laughed. “Now that really doesn’t sound like you!”
He fixed her with a disarming smile that lasted almost ten seconds. “Everyone changes, Morgan. You should try it sometime.”
Roche smiled, but the accusation made her feel uncomfortable. “You’d be surprised, Myer,” she said after a while.
“Really?” He beamed. “Go ahead, then. Surprise me.”
An attendant brought his drink, and with it a welcome interruption in the conversation. Roche was even more thankful when the Box intruded before they could resume their talk:
Roche fought to contain a rising sense of frustration.
said the Box.
“Morgan?” It was Mavalhin.
She quickly raised a hand to silence him, then closed her eyes, shutting out her immediate surroundings so she could concentrate on what the AI was saying.
Roche thought about it for a long moment.
the AI said.
She took a deep draft of her drink.
She put the glass down on the table. Mavalhin was watching her curiously.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “Just some business that needed attending to.”
He smiled crookedly but said nothing. “No rest for the wicked, eh?” said Disisto. Before she could say anything, he raised a hand to his ear, his head tilted as though straining to hear something above the general noise of the room. “Your scutter has requested permission to disengage,” he said to her. “It’s leaving without you?”
“Temporarily,” she explained. “I’ve decided to take you up on your offer; you see, we do have a reave on board, and she needs help.”
“So you’ve decided to trust us now?”
“Decided we have no choice,” said Roche. “She needs the treatment.”
Disisto nodded. “I understand,” he said. “Is everything else in order?”
“It seems to be,” she said. “For the moment, at least “ Again she sensed something in his stare that belied the calmness of his face, but she could do no more than wonder about it. “Anyway, what were we talking about?”
“About how much you’ve changed,” said Mavalhin with a smugness that irritated Roche.
“Shut up, Myer,” she said.
“What?” He laughed. “I didn’t say anything!”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” she said. “So let’s just change the subject, shall we?” She picked up her glass and sat back, looking over to Disisto. “Let’s talk about Daybreak instead.”
It was Disisto’s turn to smile. “You spotted it, then?”
“I’m not blind,” she said. “Where did you find it?”
“It drifted in from the outer system five days ago. One of our scouts discovered it and hauled it here once he was sure there was no one aboard.”
“And that scout was you, Myer?” she said.
Mavalhin grinned. “Sorry, Morgan. Can’t help you there. I was over Aro Spaceport at the time.”
She shrugged. It had been worth a try; Mavalhin would have been much easier to pump information from than the security officer. “Was there no one aboard, then, Disisto?”
“Apart from the bodies stacked in the hold, no, there wasn’t. The pilot had abandoned the vessel long before we found it.”
“That would be before he attacked Guhr Outpost in the tug, right?” put in Haid.
“I guess so,” Disisto said. “Once he had no use for Daybreak, he must have discarded it.”
“That surprises me,” Haid went on. “In every other instance he’s used the vessel he had just vacated to act as a distraction. But not this time. It would have been more sensible to destroy it. Any guesses why not?”
Disisto opened his hands in apology. “That’s something you’d have to ask the chief. I’m not privy to all the information we’ve uncovered.”
“The fact that he didn’t bring it up makes me even more curious,” said Roche.
“I’m sure it does.” Disisto’s smile hadn’t faded; if anything, it had grown wider. Roche received the distinct impression that he was enjoying her attempts to probe the station’s veil of secrecy.
“She’s always been like this,” said Mavalhin, leaning forward to put his empty glass on the table. “A troublemaker, too. Did you know that she hacked into the College Head’s private datacore to reprogram his secretary AI? For a week, it would speak only in an obscure Mbatan dialect Morgan had unearthed in an archive. Because only a dozen or so people on the other side of the Commonwealth could speak that language, it was a whole day before the Head could get any sense out of it. It brought the Academy to a halt—and all so she could miss a Tactics exam s
he hadn’t prepared for.”
“Hey, that’s a lie!” Roche protested with mock indignation. “You were the one with the exam! I did it so you could get out of taking it.”
“Ah yes, that’s right,” he said. “You would’ve done anything for me back in those days, wouldn’t you?”
Roche conceded a wry smile and shook her head. “I’d forgotten what you can be like, Myer,” she said. Oddly enough, she enjoyed the banter almost as much as it annoyed her—which was a fair summary of her feelings for him, now and then. “But you won’t catch me off guard again, that I promise you.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“You can take it any way you like.”
“Accepted, then. Where shall we start?”
Somehow he drew her into a one-on-one conversation, against her better instincts. While Haid and Disisto listened, occasionally talking to each other or interjecting with observations, she and Mavalhin sparred as smoothly as they had years before. It amazed her how easily the old ways returned: she had never met anybody since him who knew just how to antagonize her. The reverse was also true. Despite the fact that they had both experienced much since they had last met, the mental processes that dictated the flow of conversation remained unchanged.
“Look, I’m sorry to have to break this up,” Disisto eventually said, “but if you want to meet the scutter, we should start heading down to the docking bay.”
Roche was surprised. “So soon?”
“Well, it’s a bit of a walk there,” said Disisto. “Besides which, we have to drop Myer off so he can finish his debriefing decon.”
“Oh, come on, Disisto!” said Mavalhin.
But Disisto and Synnett were already standing, the latter tugging Mavalhin to his feet. Haid finished the contents of his glass and stood; Roche did likewise.
“Changed man, eh, Myer?” Roche scoffed.
The pilot ignored her.
On the way past the dueling field, Haid nudged her with one angular elbow and indicated the hologram with a nod. Roche looked, and had a quick glimpse of armored, robotic figures toiling with ferocious weapons on an open playing field. Nothing looked out of place.