Bloodstone

by Kathryn Hoff

  The future of our ship, our home, our livelihood…even our ability to stay together as a family rested on a good sale for the brandy, and on reaching the rendezvous with Ordalo in two months’ time.

  Ordalo.

  I didn’t mind a bit of off-the-books transport. Favors for friends didn’t bother me, or a little extra income from carrying some item on the Settlement Authority’s restricted list. But the commission for Ordalo was something far out of our league. Sparrow was smuggling a microbial synthreactor, able to analyze dust and rock and to use available elements to synthesize microbes that could foster plant growth. A synthreactor could turn a wasteland into farmland, a barren planet into a colony site, and a poor but peaceful sector of space into a war zone.

  The Settlement Authority—dominated by Gavs, of course—kept a strict control on synthreactors, tightly limiting who could use one and where. That made this one worth more than all the brandy and everything else on the ship—and extremely illegal to transport.

  Papa had broken the synthreactor into five pieces and scattered them through the ship, some hiding innocuously in plain sight, some shielded deep within the bulkheads. We had to carry the damn thing for weeks until Ordalo could take delivery in a distant pirate haven at the fringe of the uncharted region known as the Gloom.

  Just thinking about it made me sweat.

  Twice in the long, sorrow-filled nights since Papa’s passing, I’d seen him in my dreams—not as the daring ship’s captain I wanted to remember, but as an old man who gazed on me with worry and sadness. He hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t given me the answers I craved.

  Aboard ship, I couldn’t light a candle to my ancestors like I would in a planetside shrine, but I figured the ship was enough of a connection for Papa to find me. To reach my mother, I took from my private locker a tattered bit of cloth, the remnants of the scarf my mother had tucked around my neck the night she smuggled me out of the masters’ house to Papa. She’d paid dearly—that act of defiance got her sent to a noxious factory and an early death. Sometimes, just touching the scrap of fabric and reciting the ritual prayer helped me find a little peace of mind.

  Beloved ancestors, help me find the wisdom to choose what is best, the strength to do what I must, and the courage to face what may come. Mother, thank you for my life and freedom. Papa, thank you for your care, but please, help me understand.

  I wondered sleepily if a Terran prayer might have a better chance of reaching Papa’s spirit, but I had no idea how Terrans prayed. All Gavorans were spiritual, in one way or another, but Papa had worshipped nothing and no one, and he’d certainly never taught me any prayers.

  I went to sleep, still holding the scarf.

  “Be careful.”

  Papa stood next to my bunk, in his usual jacket, looking well and hearty—not like he had in his last terrible days of fever. He seemed to shine with an inner light.

  “Be careful,” he repeated. “Lies. Don’t trust them.”

  I reached my hand toward him, but he was gone. The tiny cabin was empty and dark.

  I felt the familiar ache of grief, tempered with anger. Papa had come, as I asked. I should be grateful. But all he’d given me was a warning I didn’t need.

  Why, Papa? You told Kojo about the synthreactor, why not me? Didn’t you trust me? Surely he knew the peril he’d left us in, the weeks of danger we faced to smuggle the synthreactor through Corridor Patrol checkpoints to a pirate lair?

  I shook off my resentment and concentrated on being thankful. I’d been a child among slaves, for whom ancestral spirits were a constant, comforting presence. Kojo scoffed at my “ghost stories,” but I took heart knowing Papa still watched over us.

  I said a brief prayer thanking Papa for his visit, but I asked him, if he could, to be more helpful next time.

  On the second day of the voyage we reached a gate in a quiet Selkid sector. While we waited in the queue for the jump gate, I joined Hiram in the wheelhouse to pick up messages from the beacon.

  I kissed the bald spot on his head. “Kojo told me,” I whispered.

  Hiram raised his brows. “Did he, now?”

  “I’m not surprised the Cartel would offer you a berth. You’re the canniest pilot in the outer sectors. I just want you to know how grateful I am that you’ve helped to see us through the rough time after Papa passed on. But you don’t need to worry about us—we’ll be on better footing once the money comes in for the brandy and that job for Ordalo. I’ll miss you like crazy, though.”

  He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “Ah, well, nothing’s decided yet, one way or the other. I’ll stick with Sparrowhawk yet awhile.”

  “Whatever you decide, you’ll always be family.”

  I forwarded one message to Kojo and another to Archer. All mine were from creditors looking to collect. I went to my cabin-office to check the accounts—had the interest on Branson’s loan really stacked up so much?

  Kojo popped in, his black curls tousled.

  “Trouble,” he said.

  Sparrow moved into position in the jump gates. Blue lights turned to red, then disappeared as we slid into the star corridor.

  Kojo leaned against a bulkhead, arms crossed. “Got a broadcast from the Cartel to all its members. The Corridor Patrol is stopping and searching ships in Selkid sectors.”

  Ancestors! If the Patrol tracked the microbial synthreactor to us, we’d lose our ship and our licenses, not to mention spending a few years on a penal colony.

  Kojo must have seen the panic on my face. “Don’t worry, the Patrol’s not looking for us. Not specifically, anyway. The Cartel said some treasure was stolen from a Gav temple on a Selkid world. The Gav priesthood is raising hell to track the thieves down. It’s got the Cartel all riled up—Patrol searches interfere with business.”

  I breathed again. “Sage temples have all kinds of treasures. What are they looking for?”

  “Some sort of icon or idol, taken by a Terran female by name of Patil and a high-ranking Gav male called Balan.”

  I shook my head. “That can’t be right. No Gavoran aristo would steal from one of their own temples.”

  Kojo shrugged. “That’s what the message said. The idol is supposed to be in a heavy metal case. The Patrol is scanning or opening anything that might contain it.”

  Like a few unstamped brandy crates in our vault. I really didn’t want the Patrol opening our cargo, sussing out the lack of tariff stamps and maybe even finding the synthreactor.

  “We’re already bypassing hubs and checkpoints,” I said. “Short of sailing sublight all the way to Oakdale, is there anything else we can do to avoid the Patrol?”

  “Not really. But the Cartel is offering a reward of ten thousand sovereigns in rhollium for finding the loot and turning it in to them. I think we should check the passengers’ luggage.”

  “Why? They went through the inspection point on Santerro—if they were wanted, the Patrol would have picked them up there.”

  “What about that stowaway? He didn’t go through any inspection.”

  I shook my head. “Fandar’s just a slave. I saw his hands—he’s been doing manual labor, and he’s got that slash on his wrist. He didn’t bring anything with him, either, not even a change of clothes, much less a Sage icon. Miranda and Grim brought some luggage aboard, but except for the hydroverter, they didn’t have anything heavy.”

  Kojo rubbed his jaw, avoiding my eyes.

  I knew that sheepish expression. “Kojo? You did check to see that it was really a hydroverter in the duffel, didn’t you?”

  “Zub’s pitchfork. When somebody admits to you straight out they’re carrying restricted tech, you can generally believe them.”

  Kojo. Letting a pretty face distract him—he should have known better.

  His eyes lit up. “Look, I just want to check. If we find the loot, we could put the Cartel in debt to us for a change. And I know that female is slippery. Just think, we could turn her and Grim and the goods over to the Cartel, keep the fare, forg
et about Oakdale, and claim ten thousand sovereigns on top!”

  I had to laugh. “You’re dreaming.”

  Kojo stood. “I’ll chat up the passengers while you search their cabins. Who knows? We could get lucky.”

  “Grimbold’s armed,” I warned.

  “We can fix that.” Kojo opened his jacket to show me a stun pistol stuck into his belt.

  For once, Kojo had thought ahead.

  CHAPTER 5

  A search for treasure

  Grim had left his blankets in a rumpled pile on his bunk. With distaste, I rummaged through them enough to be sure nothing was hidden. His suitcase and pack held only clothing, mostly new, and a shaving kit.

  In Miranda’s stateroom, only one of the bunks held wrinkled blankets and there was no lingering scent of Grim’s aftershave on the sheets. Not much romance for an “eloping” couple, then. Miranda’s suitcases held only clothes and toiletries—not many. I repacked them and returned the luggage to the locker.

  That left the gray duffel.

  I pulled it out and hefted it. It had a padlock, but I’d borrowed a bolt cutter from Archer, so that was no trouble. Inside the duffel was a bulky bundle—a thick coat wrapped around a neat metal case with an intricate lock.

  Damn. Definitely not a hydroverter.

  I brought the case to the salon and laid it carefully on the table.

  “What are you doing?” Miranda demanded.

  Grim’s hand moved, but Kojo already had his stunner out. “Hands in the air, Mzee Grimbold. That doesn’t look like any hydroverter.”

  Grim froze. “What is this? A holdup?”

  “Sit still while Patch checks you out.”

  I pulled Grim’s weapon from its holster. It was a new, military-grade stunner, built for range and accuracy. I held it up for Kojo to see, then stuck it in my belt.

  Kojo whistled. “Nice!”

  I finished patting Grim down. When I got to his tender parts, he growled, “Watch it, sister.”

  “Don’t worry. I haven’t crippled a man yet.” I confiscated a knife from his boot and moved to Miranda.

  “Why are you doing this?” Miranda cried.

  “I don’t like being lied to,” Kojo said. “At the gate, we got an alert that the Corridor Patrol is stopping ships in this sector and searching them for some treasure stolen from a Sage temple. There’s a reward for turning it in—and a prison sentence for transporting it.”

  Miranda had no weapons and only one item of interest—a wallet clipped to her belt, the kind that holds rhollium ingots. It was heavy.

  She hissed when I opened it. Inside were nine finger-sized five-thousand-sovereign ingots, and space where a tenth ingot had been. I showed it to Kojo and stuck it into my pocket.

  “Very nice.” He grinned at her. “Don’t worry, Miranda. We’re moderately honest. If that case doesn’t hold Gav loot, you’ll get your rhollium back.”

  Miranda looked at Kojo appealingly. “Captain, let me explain. We’re not thieves.”

  “You’re not a couple, either,” I said. “At least not a couple that sleeps together.”

  Kojo shot me an amused glance.

  “You’re looking for treasure from a Sage temple?” Grim smoothed his mustache and nodded to Miranda. “We’ve got nothing like that. You might as well show them, honey.”

  Miranda sat up straight. “Very well. The item in the case is obviously not a hydroverter, but neither is it anything belonging to the Gavorans. It is simply a piece of stone artwork. Perhaps…Kojo, perhaps I could just speak to you alone for a moment?”

  “No. Open it.”

  Miranda clenched her hands. “Very well. But you must understand—the item in the case is irreplaceable. It must not be touched. Will you please listen, before I open the case, so you will understand its importance?”

  Kojo looked at me and scratched his ear, signaling he was willing to go along. I nodded.

  “All right,” Kojo said. “You’ve got two minutes.”

  Miranda sat up, no longer the simpering sweetheart. “I admit I…misled you about my background. I am an archeologist from Evergreen University, in the central sectors. I’ve been working on an ancient site on an uninhabited planet. In that metal case is an artifact from an extinct civilization, a stone tablet covered in symbols. It is certainly not from a Sage temple, nor is it anything belonging to the Gavorans. If some sort of Gavoran goods are missing, I assure you, that has nothing to do with me.”

  She stroked the case. “This artifact is thousands of years old. It has no value in monetary terms, but it is invaluable to understanding our history. We need to take the artifact to Evergreen for it to be researched properly and to translate the symbols.”

  Whatever I expected, it was nothing like that. Kojo raised an eyebrow at me. I touched the back of my hand to signal I wasn’t convinced.

  “So why the story about the hydroverter?” I asked. “Why smuggle it out of Santerro? Why not just book passage on an ordinary transport?”

  “Because I told her not to.” Grimbold spoke with crisp authority. “The professor hired me to provide security. There are thieves who specialize in rarities like this. On Santerro, I received solid information that Selkid interests have targeted this tablet. I know the Selkid Trading Cartel runs that sector and I know how deep they are into smuggling and other illegal business. We didn’t dare run it through the Selkid officials at the docks—I know for a fact the Cartel pays them to skim off anything interesting or valuable.”

  Kojo nodded. “True enough.”

  “So,” Miranda said, “we invented a plausible reason to avoid passing it through the inspection.” For a moment, she fluttered her lashes like the old Miranda. “We couldn’t have done it without your help, Captain.”

  Kojo chuckled. “That’ll teach me to trust a pretty woman.”

  Humph. I doubted the lesson would last long.

  “As for the transports,” Grim continued, “once we stepped onto a Selkid ship, we’d be sitting ducks. I went out of my way to find a Terran-crewed ship, one that had a certain reputation for flexibility.”

  Kojo and I exchanged a glance. Half the traders in the Selkid frontier sectors knew Sparrowhawk was available for just about any job that paid well.

  “You could have just hired more guards,” I said.

  Grim shook his head. “Bringing in more guards would just be more people who could leak our location. You can’t trust anybody out here. On our own, we’re less conspicuous. I figured that by using out-of-the-way ports like Oakdale, we could throw the thieves off our track.”

  Like Kojo said, as smugglers, they were a pair of amateurs.

  Kojo rubbed his chin. “Go ahead, then. Open the case.”

  Carefully, Miranda turned the case to face her.

  The case was sturdy rather than elegant, the hardware strong and well-made. As Miranda manipulated the combination, she said, “Remember, you must not touch the artifact. The oils in your skin could damage the surface.”

  She lifted the lid, her effort showing how heavy the thick panels were.

  The padding inside the case was custom cut to snugly hold a dark stone block. It was a precise hexagon, so wide it barely fit into the case. Graceful symbols were deeply incised into its surface.

  Kojo let out a deep breath. “It’s just a stone.” He leaned closer. “Is that writing?”

  He started to reach toward it, until Miranda hissed, “No!”

  It was strange. I also felt the urge to touch the artifact, to run my fingers across the odd symbols. It had an eerie beauty. The mounded face had looked black at first, but on closer view it was an amalgam of very deep browns, reds, and purples. The subtle colors seemed to move, swirling over the surface.

  The incisions on the tablet were so deep that no light reflected from them at all. The letters, if that’s what they were, didn’t follow lines across or down, but seemed to radiate in a whorl from a central point, like a galaxy, except that, oddly, it was hard to pinpoint the center. It w
as as if any point you chose might be the center of a different galaxy. I would have liked to pick the tablet up to see it more closely.

  I felt the others watching me and realized I had drawn close to the thing. I forced my hand down from where I’d been rubbing the itching skin seal on my arm.

  Home.

  I pulled back, startled. It wasn’t quite a voice—there were no words, only a strong longing. I even looked around to see if Papa’s spirit was visiting.

  Miranda watched me narrowly. Kojo stared at me, too, with a puzzled frown.

  I grinned sheepishly at my brother. “It really is fascinating.”

  “Does that look like Gav writing to you?” Kojo asked. “Or like something from a Sage temple?”

  “Definitely not,” I said.

  Kojo rubbed his chin. “It doesn’t look old. It’s not cracked or corroded or anything.”

  “Indeed. One of many fascinating aspects of the artifact.” Miranda closed the case and relocked it. “I hope that satisfies your curiosity.”

  Kojo winked at me and bowed to Miranda. “Thank you for clearing this up. My sincere apologies for the inconvenience. I guess you’re not the ones the Corridor Patrol is looking for.”

  At Kojo’s nod, I gave Miranda back her rhollium-filled wallet, but I kept the stunner, telling Grim I’d give it back at the end of the voyage.

  Miranda smiled graciously. “Please don’t be concerned, Captain Babatunji. I quite understand your need for caution. However, I would like to continue to travel to Oakdale without any…publicity. Do you think there is any danger the Corridor Patrol will search this ship?”

  “I doubt it. The jump gates we’re using aren’t very busy. Once we’re past the third jump, we’ll sail off-corridor, then two jumps in Terran space. No promises, but our chances of avoiding the Patrol are pretty good.”