by Sharon Lee
“What’s happening is that we’d been working with the Hugglelans folks on a project, on account of the situation there on Eylot. We offered them a spot if they’d want to bring some of their equipment out this way. See, you might want to consider us, route-building like you are. We give easy access to Carresens space, and through them you got a chance to do some backdoor Liaden trade and Terran trade, too—depending on how you want to go. The Hugglelans aren’t so bound…well, anyway, we’ve done some work on this and found a few cargoes, including this one, off Primadonna. The Hugglelans gal now, she has a plan, and she’s paid a hold fee, going to be leasing a few dock spots, all good. But this came through and we figured the timing out. She said she’d get a good reliable ship to it, and all things considered, we agreed to be forwarding agents for the cargo—goodwill, you understand. Guaranteed delivery.
“So Primadonna picked it up and brought it this far, stopped in for refresh and was to take it beyond, on to Lefavre. That history’s clear.”
Veep Semimodo paused, perhaps expecting a question or agreement. Clarence said nothing. Taking him as her model, Kara also said nothing.
Semimodo cleared his throat.
“Well, there. The ship arrived, docked, and was on kind of a counterschedule. The pilot says they were doing back-to-back shifts to make the route. What we knew was that we had orders for stuff coming in, and the ship paying fees from her own account. We knew Hugglelans—like I say, we got an arrangement with them. Still in force, far as I know. Another ship popped in—we’ll forward all details to you soon’s the meeting here is over—and next thing is the copilot’s gone. So’s a lot of expensive supplies and equipment. Primadonna’s got no money, account gone empty inside of a three-day layover. Pilot claims all stolen…but not our problem; bills still have to be paid. Can’t release the ship until we’re even—and we’re not.
“On the other side, we got good evidence that the pilot got took and maybe even Hugglelans got took, which is too bad all around, but don’t make a difference to our bottom line. We have to hold the ship until we get paid. But we’re stuck, too, with late fees if the transship doesn’t go through. Minot Station guaranteed that if the cargo started, it’d go through.”
There was a sheen of sweat on his smooth brow, and he paused for breath, which Kara, at least, begrudged him not at all.
“So there it all is. Station would be obliged if you—if Bechimo—will take up the cargo and see it through.”
There was a still moment before Clarence nodded and raised a hand to touch his chest.
“Now, I’m a pilot, so I gotta ask. What about the pilot? The one got took? Under arrest for theft?”
“Well, not theft. Not arrest, really. He’s detained. Was, that is. Actually, now, he’s on what Hugglelans calls on furlough, because of that situation on Eylot as much as the situation here. Had a hearing, heard from the bosses too. He’s in the clear; no fault on him. But, see, he’s stuck, too. On furlough, he can’t take the ship out of here, even if either him or the ship had the money to settle those fees. Which they don’t. Supposed to be somebody from Hugglelans coming to get it all straight. It’s their ship, isn’t it? And theirs to rebank. Guild regs say a ship can’t leave where it is if it can’t pay for intake at the next port. In fact, the pilot’s drawing basic budget up in transient, piling up quite a bill. The pod—see, the pod’s not arrested. Minot Station is transshipper of record. The pod needs to move on.”
Kara took a careful breath to settle her stomach. She had never met Rig Tranza; she only knew of him from Theo’s stories of her time as his copilot. Still, a pilot abandoned struck far too close to her own history for comfort.
“The pilot,” she said, looking from Veep Semimodo to Supervisor Franksten. “Can he not simply…retreat to his ship, live on its resources, and so cease to be a burden on the resources of the station?”
Franksten nodded.
“Seems logical, at first looksee,” he said. “But, see, Engineer, we’re about talking a ship locked to station, an’ taking station feeds. Empty, she don’t use so much, but with a pilot aboard—well, it’d cost more’n it does to feed him and give ’im place to sleep stationside. Not only that, you got this problem of having a pilot on his own ship—well, the company’s ship—which is the crux right there. Pilot’s been furloughed by the company ’til such time as a rep comes to straighten us all out. An’ see, there’s this other thing. The pilot—no fault on him here—but he’s…what do they say? Noncompliant, according to Eylot, which is Hugglelans’ home port.” He shrugged.
“Anyhoot, he let us pick ’im up and gave us a key. But the ship won’t talk to us—we had him about a day for the hearing, then kept ’im on-station, like I said. Two days ago, though, the ship stopped confirming connections. Now the pilot’s upset and doesn’t have anything much to say to us.
“Legally, he says—an’ the Pilots Guild would have to weigh in—legally, while the ship’s under arrest and he’s on furlough, he’s not the pilot. While it’s under arrest, he’s not responsible. If somebody’d been on board, they’d’ve got the request and could have done what was needed to keep it unlocked. He says that’s automatics, and the only one can stop ’em is somebody with the backup codes. Somebody like the owner, and maybe the code and key that went off with the copilot who’s gone, they could do it. But Pilot Tranza, he’s real clear that he’s not Primadonna’s pilot right now. We tried to talk to him while he was under for the truthing, but the way in to that ship? That didn’t come out.”
Kara stared at her hands, thinking that…there was something…not quite correct about the situation as explained, something that had been left out.
She glanced to Clarence, hoping he might read her concern, but at that point the intern returned, bearing drinks and disruption.
The intern came close, handing Kara her drink. She nodded politely, seeing with relief that it was cool water and not coffee.
“And that mini-pod?” Clarence asked, receiving his own beverage. “If the ship ain’t talking to you, how’s that coming loose to transfer over to us?”
Franksten nodded at him.
“We’re working on that part. I got some ideas. Oughta be soon we can do something, there. And that’s what we need to talk to you about, particular.”
“But, you have a shipyard here,” Kara said. “Can they not extract the pod? Surely…”
Semimodo put his hand up, shaking his head.
Kara ignored him. “A yard capable of building and updating ships certainly has the tools required for an extraction!”
Veep Semimodo sighed, nodded, and looked from Franksten to the intern. As soft as he already was, still, it seemed that he deflated.
“Things aren’t always as straightforward as they appear to a…trade-runner,” he began, and then simply seemed to run out of energy.
He looked to Franksten, hands waving senselessly. The supervisor nodded. The intern, back on his stool, did not nod; his face grew grim.
“Engineers,” said Franksten, “an’ maybe young engineers particularly, think solutions are all in a row. Change this, fix that, done. It isn’t always that way—sometimes you have to take things out of order, or wait for orders, or maybe even…fabricate something.”
He said the last with reluctance, dragging the Terran into a quiet slur.
Semimodo spoke up then, his tone annoyed.
“There is a problem dealing with the shipyard right now. Shipping’s up and sometimes the yard’s working close to limit. Yard boss wants to take over my dockside and consolidate so everything to do with ships goes through the yard. They want in on long-range decisions and station business. That’s not the way here, never been that way here. Station does the refuels, delivers the consumables, we—dockside and Minot Station Admin—that’s our responsibility.”
He stopped suddenly and produced a wan grin.
“Sorry, Pilots. Politics is all it is; nothing to bore you with.”
Clarence took a sip of his water an
d shook his head.
“Well, now. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a mess as fine as this one. My suggestion is that we just take a little time with our drinks here. Then, we’ll put all these points and contentions in order, an’ see if there’s any agreement to be made that benefits us all. Let’s just all think for a space.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Minot Station
Administrative Offices
They thought for a while, with Clarence an agreeable guest, and agreeable still when it came time to listing all those points and contentions, with Semimodo taking notes toward producing a contract.
In this phase, Kara was silent, Clarence being the elder in matters of contract and advantage. Indeed, there was much that she might have learned had she given the discussion more than half her attention. The neat disarming of Veep Semimodo’s discourse on financial necessities, as well as the acquisition of a guarantee that, even if the pod were not released in a reasonable time, Bechimo would receive a “kill fee” to, so Clarence said, compensate them for lost opportunity.
No, even given the rare chance to watch a master at his work, Kara found herself thinking not of the business at hand, but of Eylot.
Eylot was her homeworld; her clan and many friends were still on-world. The few words that had been spoken regarding the “situation” there filled her with foreboding.
Staring into what remained of her drink, she struggled with herself and her need to know…
There! They were talking about lift systems, a topic in which she normally had a great deal of interest. Now, she merely waited until there was a break in the conversation and addressed Veep Semimodo in her best approximation of the High Tongue’s imperative mode, were the High Tongue rendered in Terran.
“Forgive me, sir. We have been in transit, all of our attention upon the possibilities of this port and that. In reference to the furloughed pilot, you mentioned a situation on Eylot.”
She glanced aside at Clarence, who inclined his head and raised his cup for another sip.
Feeling more certain of her course, she continued.
“Our ship was recently through Eylot’s system. When I was a student pilot, I was employed by Hugglelans as a part-time tech. I hired onto Bechimo from the station there, when it was…absorbed by the government. I wonder—have matters on-world worsened?”
She had almost said “pirated,” which would not have been…diplomatic. Of course it would have been wrong to say; that she had even thought the word was a testament to the depth and degree of her unease.
Semimodo, in the meantime, had been caught by a point of trivia.
“Pilot, you say?” He leaned forward, as if to get a better view of her.
“Pilot and engineer? Worked on a station, too? As young as you look? I can’t imagine how a pretty…”
Clarence broke in, with a smile Kara could not, herself, have mustered.
“Bechimo, ship and crew, we pride ourselves on keeping young-looking, Corp Veep. But, young or not, the engineer’s concern is legit. Don’t mind sharing the fact that we had ourselves a tense situation there. All worked itself out, and we been away awhile. What’s that news?”
The admin awarded the “keeping young” quip a chuckle before shaking his head.
“I don’t keep up with all of it; seems to change every time we hear, and I got the station to run, of course. Intern Eidalec here, he’s your man for up-to-date news. He pays attention on account of his studies—that’s sector history, public service, politics, policy, and I don’t know what all else, when he’s not working with us.”
Intern Eidalec beamed, mostly at Kara.
“Yes. I’m very interested in the history of conflicts and also about world and station security issues.
“As for Eylot, I can’t say things have worsened,” he said. “More accurately, they are clarifying. I have files and files of the government news releases, and I’ve read through the basic proposals that Mayko Ikari and the planetary advisory team have been working on.”
He shot a glance at Veep Semimodo, who nodded and waved an indulgent hand.
“Yes. What’s happening is that the Eylot government is consolidating, after a troubled period and some internal problems. It appears that the unrest caused by the nonnative populations has been subdued and good order is being restored. Unfortunately for Hugglelans, this more robust government is absorbing—they call it professionalizing!—some of the functions that their business has historically handled, for private profit. In order to better function…”
It was good, Kara thought, that she had begun this from a formal mode. She preserved her countenance and controlled her breathing, though the intern was clearly approving of this more robust government and the steps taken against the nonnative populations.
Nonnative? she thought, in momentary outrage. She had been born on Eylot, and three generations before her! And what did good order restored portend? Had there been—a war. Her clan…
But, here, the intern spoke on.
“Many of the Eylot government’s actions are actions we would take on this station, in the case of security issues. I can’t imagine that a planet ought to be under less control than a space station. I mean, there are so many more people to protect. And here—on this station, the policy has always been to ensure that there’s no confusion of language or culture. Station Admin in the past has discussed making the official station language Terran, but there are so many Terran dialects, allowing Trade to be spoken is absolutely the better solution, in the service of less confusion. Why—”
Veep Semimodo made a rolling motion with his hand. The intern flushed and fell silent.
“Getting back to the case before us, Hugglelans gives us to understand that they have considerable…assets. Yes, considerable assets, which have never been on Eylot or even in that system, and they feel—and I think rightly—that they should take this opportunity to reorganize elsewhere. At the same time, see, the government’s been assisting in the negotiations and the redistribution of assets.
“Now, of course, Minot Admin finds much to admire in Eylot’s stronger security. In turn the Eylot government finds Minot Station more acceptable to them than—well, no sense naming names. We’ll just say, other stations!”
He smiled. Kara gritted her teeth.
“In the case of Pilot Tranza—he’s not a strong supporter of the new government or its work, plus he wasn’t born on Eylot. And he holds a Terran Guild license. Not that a Terran pilot needs to have an Eylot license, but see, Minot Station will be able to help Eylot be sure that only Eylot certified pilots leave for their system from here. Like Eidalec said, it does appear that Eylot is getting itself in order. If you like, I can have some of the press release files and news sent to you.”
Kara managed to nod politely. “Thank you, that would be a kindness. Also, if you have cites and references to other news services, that would interest me as well.”
“Ah, of course, a scholar as well as a very pretty pilot and engineer. I’ll be happy to provide—”
“And I believe,” Kara interrupted, deliberately rude as she turned to Supervisor Franksten, “if you can provide the model number and serial information for the mini-pod, I may have a solution in mind. I will need time to look at it and run a few sims from my own desk, of course, but if you can certify that the pod is yours, engineering may be able to solve the problem of moving it.”
“Right!” Veep Semimodo said and abruptly stood.
Clarence came to his feet and Kara followed his lead.
“So, thank you both for being so generous with your time and consideration of our little problem. I’ll get this contract into order and send it over the wire to Bechimo. Proposed contract only, see? Something for you and your captain to look over and to talk about.”
“Sounds fine,” Clarence assured them, and with a few handshakes and shapeless bows, they escaped into the corridor.
* * * * *
Given their journey and the manner of it, news reache
d them oddly, often long after notable events had transpired.
So it had been with the attack upon Liad, a Troop’s highest dream of conquest. Sadly or, Vepal thought, happily, the attack had not been delivered by the Troop. Yxtrang had never yet penetrated the defenses guarding that rich prize. In fact, if one had a taste for irony, which Vepal had acquired over the cycles, one might find it exquisite, that the blow had been struck by a Liaden clan, of a name even Yxtrang knew.
Clan Korval, so the reports had it, had either delivered Balance to their homeworld, else they had acted with a hero’s decisiveness to rid that same homeworld of a hidden enemy.
Their motive scarcely mattered to Vepal; he had never looked for allies on Liad, being fonder of his life than was perhaps seemly in one of the Troop. Still, a fact that remained remarkably consistent across all of his sources was this: Clan Korval included within itself…
Three Yxtrang soldiers.
Vepal felt a thrill, as if he were about to engage, and took a moment to calm himself and think.
There were several possibilities, after all, and this news was nearly a cycle old.
The first, and most likely, possibility was that the reporters had gotten their facts wrong. This happened often, though he could not recall a previous occasion when all the news sources had reported the same error as fact.
The second possibility, which was only second because Liadens were remarkably lax in discipline, was that Clan Korval, and all those subordinate to them, had been executed.
The third possibility—but this game was unworthy of him. The news packet was old, but it was possible that it was recent enough to report what had become of Clan Korval, and its three Yxtrang soldiers.
* * *
The search returned multiple answers.
Once again, all sources were in agreement: Clan Korval had been banished from Liad and had removed themselves, all personnel and such property as they could manage, though where they had gone to remained unreported.
The trade papers provided that answer.
Surebleak, in the Daiellen Sector.
