Poisoned Pawn

by Jaleta Clegg

  “You looking for a pilot?” a man said, hurrying up behind me.

  I stopped and turned to look at him.

  He wouldn’t have stood out in a crowd. He was average height, his hair a sandy blond, longer than most spacers wore it. He wore a gray shipsuit, no ship patch, only a pair of tarnished pilot stars on his collar.

  “Do I pass inspection?” he asked, green eyes dancing, mouth quirked. He lifted his arms and turned around.

  “I need a pilot, not a clown.” I pushed the door open.

  “I’m a pilot,” he said, more serious. “I heard you were hiring.”

  I stopped and turned back around, letting the door shut. “Then let’s go talk. You’ve got to be the only one left on the entire station.”

  We went to one of the small interview rooms. I sat on one side of the rickety table in a chair that had seen better days. A very long time ago, I thought as I shifted off a loose spring that jabbed me. The man sat across from me, pulling out a packet of papers. He put them on the table between us, flipping them open. His pilot certification was on top. I picked it up. According to it, his name was Trevyn Clark. He’d been a pilot for seven years. His ratings covered a ship the size of the Phoenix. I put the paper down and looked at him.

  “Why are you looking for work here?” I asked. “What happened to your last job?”

  He pulled a paper out of the stack and flipped it at me. “Last five berths. I’m stuck here because the ship I was on was being delivered to her regular crew here. They needed a pilot to fly it.”

  “And before that?” I watched his face, looking for lies.

  “I flew three jumps on a Terellian ship. One pilot had just gotten married and moved in with his wife’s family. Their other pilot was still finishing school. They never let me in the cockpit.”

  That one made sense. Regulations required a certain number of pilots, depending on the ship’s size and rating. Terellian ships were huge things, trading ships that carried generations of the same family. If you weren’t family, you weren’t crew. They married only with other trading families, so I’d stayed away. I hadn’t run into them much, I’d never been to the territories they usually worked. No profit in it for me.

  “How far back do you want me to go?” Trevyn Clark asked. “I’ve had a run of bad luck finding a solid berth.”

  I looked down his list. And stopped. I recognized a name. “What happened on the Iniori Matsura?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I was on the ship two months. I filed charges against Captain Calligan. For harassment.” His mouth pinched with anger. Whether it was over the situation back then or my asking about it, I didn’t know.

  I laughed. I knew Isidora Calligan. I’d flown as a cadet on her ship a few times. Her predation of male pilots was well known even though the rest of the crew tried to keep it quiet.

  “I won’t ask about any of the rest,” I said. “You wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t really flown with her.”

  “You don’t trust my credentials?” He still didn’t look very happy.

  “I’ve had bad luck in the past.” I leaned forward on the table. “What are you looking for?”

  “What are you offering?”

  “I need a pilot. I’m desperate now, yes. Viya won’t let me go without one, but they want me gone within,” I glanced at the time display on the wall, “two hours.”

  A grin spread over his face, his eyes greedy. “I could take you to the cleaners.”

  “And I’d break both your legs.” My grin was just as steady.

  He threw back his head, laughing and slapping his leg. “Who else is on your crew?”

  “The navigator.”

  “Plenty of overtime. This could be good.”

  “You get passage to wherever it is we’re going. And maybe some bonus, if we manage to turn a profit on our cargo. Then we talk about a possible contract. If I still like you when we get there.”

  “Hard bargain,” he said, still leaning back. “What if I don’t accept?”

  “Then we both get to sit here and rot. Take it or leave it.” I stood.

  “There aren’t any other pilots. Even the ones that are available won’t fly with you. I’ve heard stories. You’re a legend on the station.”

  “Not a good one. Is there a point to this?”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll take it.”

  I was suddenly very suspicious. “Are you running from something? Outstanding warrants? Bloodthirsty pirates? Smuggling partners who want your head? What am I missing here?”

  “From the stories, you’re the one with the price on your head. I’m just down on my luck.” He was still lounging back, looking at ease.

  “Who wants my head now?” I couldn’t help asking. Curiosity runs my mouth sometimes without any help or guidance from my brain.

  “The former owners of Belliff.”

  “How do you know that?” Cold prickles ran up and down my spine.

  “Public record, what you did. Anyone with half a brain knows Belliff management got away, at least the ones with the power. You ruined their entire operation. It makes sense they’d be gunning for you.”

  “Are you this way with all your potential employers?”

  “Are you this suspicious of everyone?”

  “Yes.”

  His amusement disappeared, wiped clean. He studied me from green eyes as hard as stone. He finally blinked. “Passing on a warning, Captain Dace. From a friend in station security.”

  “I wasn’t aware I had one.” Warnings coming from the Patrol would be suspect. Especially ones from a certain Commander Grant Lowell. He’d been trying to recruit me to work undercover in his top secret organization since I’d gotten mixed up in a nasty piece of business on Dadilan. He’d even sent Tayvis after me. It still hurt to think about that. My relationship with the Patrol Enforcer Malcolm Tayvis was complicated, to say the least.

  “His name’s Darl. He said to remind you of Professor Commandant Ludviga. Whatever that means.”

  My mouth twitched. Darl was an old classmate from the Academy. “Darl made it into station security, then. Good for him.” He’d been dock supervisor the last time I was here.

  “He sent me here from the brig,” Trevyn Clark admitted. “Told me you would need a pilot. Seems yours skipped station, leaving you in trouble. He did it as a favor to me and you. Or so he said.”

  “What were you doing in the brig?”

  “I wasn’t arrested, if that’s what you’re asking.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Are you hiring me or not?”

  “Do I have a choice?” I ran a hand through my hair. “Get your gear. The ship’s right across the dock.”

  “Don’t I have to sign papers?”

  I muttered a very bad word. I hate paperwork. I sat back down and punched up the proper screen.

  “Captain Dace of the Phoenix Rising,” I said at it. The proper blanks filled in. “Hiring Trevyn Clark as pilot, temporary status. Contract—confidential agreement.” I jabbed my thumb onto the pad for recording prints.

  “Trevyn Clark, accepting employment as stated,” he confirmed and added his thumbprint.

  The computer beeped and clicked. Two copies of our agreement slid out of the slot. I dropped in the proper amount of credits, the last two in my pocket. “Welcome aboard, Trevyn.” I couldn’t keep the irony out of my voice.

  He took my hand, his was firm and a bit cool. “It’s Clark, if you don’t mind.” He let go. “Do you prefer Captain or Ma’am?”

  “Don’t push your luck. I’ll take you to the ship, before I file the rest of the papers.”

  He followed me out of the interview room. I paused by the outer door of the hiring office, watching him. He talked to the receptionist, the same one who’d barely been civil to me. She flirted with Clark. He collected a duffel from her then crossed the room.

  “Waiting for me, Captain?”

  “Saves time.” I stalked away, towards the welcoming door of my ship, through the tangles
of cables and cargo that littered the wide docking bay. I wondered what Jasyn would have to say about the pilot I’d hired. I wondered what he’d have to say about her. I wondered just what Darl had said about me. I wondered if the smugglers that backed Belliff would really hunt me down. I wondered how far I’d have to go to get away from them. I wondered if the nagging voice in my head would ever shut up and leave me alone.

  Chapter Three

  Clark looked around the ship and whistled. “Nice ship.”

  She was. I was very proud of the job we’d done refitting her. “The third cabin is free. You can have the end one if you prefer, but it’s got a med unit in it.”

  “Third one’s fine,” he said and went in.

  Jasyn had done the cabins and lounge area. The hatch, which doubled as an airlock, opened into the lounge. Towards the front of the ship was the cockpit, with a door that could be closed. The cockpit held four people, two pilots, a navigator, and a com tech who also ran scanners. It was small enough that one person could reach all the controls from one chair, though. The seating area between the hatch and the cockpit had cushions in a green striped print Jasyn had made. I knew how to sew, I’d been forced to learn in the orphanage where I grew up, but until I’d watched Jasyn, I’d never believed it would ever be useful or enjoyable to do it. She’d painted the storage lockers above and behind the benches in a soft cream. She planned to add flowers sometime.

  To the rear of the room was a small galley, an actual cooking area. Most small ships had the dispenser unit that took freeze dried foods, added water, and heated them up, producing sludge that was barely edible. Jasyn liked to cook. I liked to eat. Both of us had felt the money spent on real cooking equipment was well worth every credit. The center of the room held a table with four chairs bolted to the floor around it. The cushions on them, courtesy of Jasyn again, were a darker green. The floor was covered with a fibermat carpet, guaranteed to withstand the wear, dark brown with a pattern of leaves subtly woven in with lighter browns.

  Behind the galley were two doors. One led down into the engine access areas. The other led up into a small cargo bay, fully heated and pressurized, lined with individual bins that locked. Behind that were two more cargo bays, large ones, that were vacuum in flight and unheated. The small cargo bay was mostly empty. I’d made a few speculative purchases that might pay off someday, mostly spices from vendors on Tebros.

  There were four cabins across the lounge area. My cabin was directly behind the cockpit, Jasyn had the one next to that. There were enough bunks for a crew of twelve, stacked two deep in our cabins, two sets of four crammed in the other two cabins. Our ship was comfortable, pleasant, though small.

  I’d overhauled the engines and controls. Jasyn and I were justifiably proud of the ship we’d put together from a broken down hulk.

  I went forward to the cockpit and called up Viya Control.

  “Phoenix, this is Viya Station,” a prim voice answered.

  “I’m filing flight plans. We want a departure window within the hour.”

  “We have a hold on your ship, please wait.” The prim voice was replaced with soft static.

  I drummed my fingers on the control panel, waiting. Preflight checks were going to take us most of that hour, I hoped we’d still be able to get it.

  “Your ship is denied undocking,” the prim voice came back.

  “Why?”

  “A pilot registered to your ship is in custody. You have to resolve the problem, and pay fines.”

  “If her name is Letha Toomis, she broke contract. She isn’t crew anymore. I hired a new pilot about ten minutes ago.”

  “One moment, please.” The voice went away again.

  Clark came into the cockpit, sliding into the copilot’s chair with a grace that spoke of lots of experience in small ships. He ran his hands expertly down the rows of switches and sliders. I saw his hands pause by the engine power controls. Those were overpowered. I wanted extra speed if I needed it. He shot me one unreadable glance and moved on. I listened to static and waited for him to find the scanning equipment. Half of it wasn’t available, usually, to non-Patrol ships. I’d found it, curiously enough, in a second hand shop. I suspected someone in the Patrol, that I knew and wished I didn’t, had put it there just so I could buy it. He knew I couldn’t resist it.

  “I’m sorry,” the voice said in my ear. “You’ll have to come to Station Administration.”

  “But…”

  She cut me off. I bit back the nasty words I wanted to say.

  “Trouble?” Clark asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” I got out of the chair. “When Jasyn gets back, tell her I had to go talk to Admin. She’s tall, dark hair, wearing a green suit like mine. Tell her you’re the pilot I hired.”

  I went before I could talk myself out of it. I hated dealing with authority. I hated the station. I hated the situation Letha had put me in. I grumbled to myself all the way to the offices of the Station Administrator. They sent me into his office, not an underling’s. Not a good sign.

  The Station Administrator was an older man, mostly bald, with sharp eyes hiding under hooded lids. He steepled his fingers and glared, nostrils flared as if he smelled something bad.

  “Sir?” I asked.

  “Your pilot caused quite a bit of damage,” he said, his voice flat and dry. “She also has a criminal record and falsified certification.”

  My heart sank. This was going to be nasty.

  “Her credentials checked out. I hired her on Tebros, from the port employment board. They cleared her.”

  “And the damage to my station?” His nostrils flared wider, showing huge black pits above his thin lips. “You nearly destroyed it with your stunt in that courier ship.”

  “The Patrol cleared me of any charges,” I answered, my teeth clenched against what I really wanted to say. “A bar fight is not the same. One I didn’t start and was trying to resolve when my pilot punched me. Fine her for the damages. She broke contract.”

  “A bar fight is the least of the damage,” he answered, his voice rising to a cold snarl. “We have information that you are working for the Targon Syndicate. We have evidence of sabotage against my station.”

  I shut my mouth and tried to think of a good explanation. Considering I had no idea what was going on, it was a bit difficult.

  “This time you aren’t going to weasel out of the charges.” The Administrator rose to his feet. “I am personally going to space you and the pirates you work for.”

  “I don’t work for pirates,” I said, my anger rising even as the sick feeling in my gut grew.

  “Belliff,” he said, sitting back down with satisfaction.

  “Belliff is, was, part of the Targon Syndicate,” I said, understanding dawning. “Blast.”

  “You’re caught in your own lies,” the Administrator said smugly.

  “Sir, I’m sorry I ever set foot on Viya.” I leaned over the desk. “I am not, and never did, work knowingly or willingly for the Targon Syndicate. Throw the book at Letha whatever her name really is, but leave me out of it. And I promise never to come back here again.”

  “You’re banned from this station either way,” he said. “And I’m putting you under arrest until the Patrol can collect you.”

  “Commander Lowell put you up to this, didn’t he?”

  He frowned. A light blinked on his desk. “What?” he snapped, annoyed at being interrupted. He shot me a glare and turned on a privacy screen. I could see him talking but didn’t hear anything. I watched his face go from triumph to frustration to anger. He swung his chair away from me, talking into a handset, after shooting me a searching look.

  I shifted from foot to foot. I was running out of time if I still wanted to be able to pay docking fees and leave. I kept glancing at the wall screen. Time crawled by. The Administrator finally swung his chair back around and dropped the privacy screen. He looked pale and resigned. His nostrils had gone back to a more normal size.

  “Your ship is clea
red to undock,” he said, words clipped short as if they tasted very bad.

  I stepped back. I was puzzled, but unwilling to question him in case he got offended and decided to make good on his threat to arrest me and shove me out an airlock without a helmet.

  “And Captain Dace? If you ever come to Viya again, you will be placed under arrest immediately. Go away and don’t come back.” He savagely punched buttons on his desk. I had been warned and dismissed. I went.

  Jasyn was at the ship when I got back, loading cargo through the larger back hatch.

  “Did someone die?” she asked as she paid off the cargo hauler, dropping credits in its robotic mouth until it rumbled away.

  “I wish Letha had.” I shut the hatch and sealed it. “She convinced Station Admin that I still work for Belliff’s pirates.” We headed for the airlock. “I’ve been banned for life from the station. That I don’t mind. What do you think of the pilot I found? Although it doesn’t matter, he’s the only one available.”

  “You have got to be joking,” Jasyn said as the airlock door swung open.

  I shook my head and entered my ship.

  “How about I deal with the dock supervisor and pay our fees?” she said. “Maybe I can avoid being fined just for being named Dace.” She shook her head as she took a credit chip out of the ship’s safe. “Jerimon wasn’t joking when he warned me away from you.”

  I stuck out my tongue.

  She laughed. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

  The ship hummed underfoot. The engines were on, warming up. I went to the cockpit. Clark leaned over my half of the controls, talking on the com. He looked up as I came in.

  “We have clearance to leave as soon as the fees are paid,” he said, moving back into his own side of the controls.

  I took my seat. “Jasyn’s dealing with that.” I looked over the boards. The lights flickered green as the systems checked in. We’d paid extra for autocircuits. It was worth the cost not to have to crawl in the engines and do the checks manually.

  The hatch slid shut. Jasyn joined us, sliding in behind Clark’s seat. I pushed the com button and got final clearance. We heard the clanks as the station umbilicals were detached. There was a gentle shove from the station docking clamps as the ship was released. I used the thrusters to push us clear.