Liaden Universe 20: The Gathering Edge

by Sharon Lee

  Win Ton felt two gazes on him. Clarence’s was backed by a quirky grin, Tranza’s with ordinary interest.

  Win Ton bowed again gently, seeing that this was a bonding, a winning of trust for themselves and not only on Theo’s behalf. “I also fly with Bechimo on instinct, Pilots. I cannot tell you all of it—the captain may relate her own history, if she wishes—but this I will tell you: she is my captain now because when I first met her I was…captivated. So young, so strong—so capable! She was a student, an excellent student and so much promise! Then she…was gone from my orbit and we lost contact. Then, the universe threw the dice in my favor, placing me on the deck of the ship she commands now, quite unexpectedly. Nor would I have it otherwise.”

  Tranza nodded vigorously, his grin becoming a laugh.

  “Don’t have to tell me,” he said, “Seen her grow myself. Little leery at first of assuming too much command…”

  Clarence laughed out loud, and Win Ton permitted his smile to widen, so that Rig Tranza might read it.

  “I think,” Win Ton said, “that…our Theo has the instinct for commanding loyalty, the instinct of command itself. Thus, we are all at her command.” He inclined his head.

  “And you—your status? Your ship is arrested—this is the first time I have encountered such and would not have known it was possible, save for a law course I’ve long ago let go.”

  Tranza resettled against the wall and touched the little device. The volume of the music increased somewhat.

  “Yeah, I’m stuck, is what I am. And I made enough mistakes I’m not likely to get that ship back, even if I get my job back. First mistake though, was not trusting my instincts. Tever…I never should’ve took him on. One of the bosses—”

  Clarence held up a hand, cutting off the repeated recitation of error.

  “News is that a pilot’s got to do what a pilot’s got to do,” he said. “Pilot’s choice.”

  Tranza nodded.

  “Always the way, right? Always.”

  He said nothing else and seemed about to sink again into his own thoughts. Win Ton dared to put a question of his own.

  “Do you know the other reason we’ve come?”

  Tranza sighed, his expression dour.

  “I’m guessing, right, that they want you to take the cargo, right? More stupid shoved down—” He shook his head, cutting off his own commentary, and flung out a brusque sign that fell somewhere between tell more and out with it.

  “Yes. The mini-pod has been offered to us—to Bechimo—as a cargo. Costs prepaid.”

  Tranza whistled and shook his head.

  “Politics,” he spat out. “More of the damn politics! What I need to do is find me a quiet place to fly back and forth and forth and back where they don’t suffocate me in politics!”

  Head slightly to one side, Clarence waited. Finally, Tranza waved an annoyed hand.

  “Might as well do it. I’m not telling no pilot I trained to turn down an honest offer.” He flipped his hand—palm up, palm down. “Sure, do it. Not my skin at this point. Not my ship neither, more’s the pity.”

  “Ah,” Win Ton said softly. “About that. There is the matter of releasing the pod. It would be better for all, if we could find a noninvasive way of releasing the pod.”

  Tranza looked into Win Ton’s face, his own grim.

  “Would, wouldn’t it? Trouble there is that they—Minot Station Admin, that is—they have my keys. Wouldn’t hear me when I asked to get my music and my gear so I could live off-ship like a pilot instead of a prisoner. Wouldn’t hear me when I told ’em the lockout would happen if Mayko triggered furlough—which she did, fast enough you’d think she’d been sitting there waiting to hear there was trouble. My keys—the ones they got—they might as well be playing cards, for all the use they’ll be, unlocking ’donna. I can’t even reclaim what I own ’til somebody from Hugglelans shows up.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, opened them, and shrugged.

  “Not my ship, gentlemen. Can’t help, hate to disappoint. Now, thank you both for dropping by—and give Theo my best salute.”

  This was a clear attempt at dismissal. Win Ton hesitated, looking to Clarence, who had leaned forward somewhat, elbows on the table, one hand slightly extended and cupped, as if he held something beneath.

  “I wonder, Pilot, if you have time to look at a couple things? One’s something that Theo wrote to you—haven’t seen it it myself, unnerstan—just something she said she saw in a contract and wanted to remind you about. Other one—haven’t seen that one, either—she said it was commentary on the topic at hand. Win Ton’s got that. No need to feed ’em through the station’s reader—you can borrow mine.”

  Tranza’s tight mouth showed he wasn’t amused.

  “I got no lift scheduled,” he said stiffly, coming out of his lean and stepping toward the table. “Might as well read what she’s got to say.”

  Clarence lifted his hand to reveal the chip, simultaneously bringing the reader from his right pocket. Win Ton offered his chip left-handed, leaning far in over the table and close enough to shield Clarence’s hand-signs, special comm system interception.

  Tranza looked between them cautiously and gave the chips a knowing glance as he sat down across from them.

  “Well, right. If I recall things, Theo had a special interest in contracts…lemme take a look.”

  “Let me spring for some snacks,” Clarence suggested, pushing his chair back. “Got no place else to be for a bit, and maybe we can answer questions, if you got ’em.”

  * * *

  Clarence brought a loaded tray back, handed out drinks and left the snacks on the tray at table center, where they were in easy reach of all. He leaned back in his chair and considered each of the snacks in turn, as if considering how to make it.

  Win Ton watched Tranza with Scout eyes, a more interesting prospect than giving his attention to the music interspersed with poorly produced recountings of the goods available in the station shops.

  Tranza’s face softened as he began reading Theo’s letter, then slowly hardened, tension lines growing around his eyes. There came an involuntary motion of his right wrist and a hastening of the reading.

  Head down, the pilot ejected the first chip and inserted the second, but instead of immediately returning to reading, he looked up, meeting Win Ton’s eyes, then Clarence’s.

  “Right. Well, Theo’s smart; always been. I’m done with this, Pilot, if you want to take care of it.”

  That meaning was clear, and the first chip’s powdery residue joined a less-than-palatable edge of overcooked pastry on the corner of Win Ton’s plate.

  Tranza took a deep swallow from his cup and bent once more to the reader.

  The information on this chip was denser, thought Win Ton, watching Tranza’s face. Denser and more disturbing. The lines about Tranza’s mouth deepened; there came minute tremors of the jaw, as if the pilot were holding back choice commentary. His eyes grew hard.

  Occasionally, he would pause in his reading and look up to reach for his cup, drinking as if he wished it were something more potent than flavored fizz water.

  At one point, he stopped reading altogether and stared down at his fingers as he flexed them, apparently deep in thought.

  At last, he reached an end. He handed the reader back to Clarence after ejecting the chip and personally spreading the dust over the snack remains on his plate.

  “’Preciate the loan, Pilot.” He sighed, and picked up his cup for a more moderate sip. “Might be something, right? I get my messages twice a day; got nothing answering the first letter I sent. ’S’posed to be hearing something official soon, any whiles. At least I thought I was.”

  Tranza pulled one last sip, tossed the empty onto the same plate the chip’s powder decorated. “So tell Theo this: Mayko brought me Tever, face to face. And I took him as a special favor.” He nodded firmly. “Yeah, tell her that.

  “Tell her, too, if I got no news come next mail call, the song’s on the last
stanza.”

  He stared at Clarence when he said the phrase, then moved his gaze to Win Ton.

  “Tell her that particular, right? Song’s on the last stanza. It’d be good if you got your contracts all set and signed before then.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Bechimo

  Minot Station

  “Clarence and Win Ton have returned, Captain,” Joyita said quietly, as if Theo hadn’t felt the lock cycle and their footsteps down the long corridor.

  And, she thought, looking up from her study of Minot Admin’s contract to transship a mini-pod, does Joyita know I know that? Joyita isn’t part of the bonding, and I don’t know what Joyita feels—if anything—when the main hatch opens.

  So.

  “Thank you, Joyita,” she said courteously. “Please ask them to come to the bridge, if they’re not already on course. I’ll meet them there.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  * * *

  Theo sat first seat. Kara was at third, still searching for a protocol to unlock the mini-pod from Primadonna, Hevelin sitting on the arm of her chair.

  Theo felt weight in the hall outside. Maybe Hevelin felt the same thing or was informed by another sense; he scrambled down from his perch and rushed across the room, just as the door slid aside.

  Win Ton entered first, walking Scout-silent, which he usually remembered not to do on board, his face stringently bland. Theo felt her stomach tighten. The meeting with Tranza had been bad, then…

  Three steps into the room, he stopped and bowed, managing Hevelin’s leap into his arms as if he had planned it.

  Clarence came onto the bridge, walking not so silently, but more slowly than was usual. He crossed the bridge and sat, carefully, in the second chair.

  “Captain,” he said neutrally, giving her a nod.

  “Second,” she said, trying to match his tone and missing.

  Win Ton was still standing, Hevelin on his shoulder. Theo looked at him and he took a breath, possibly to center himself.

  “Captain,” he said, “we bring a message from Pilot Tranza. Also, Clarence has a report.”

  Formality, Theo thought, implied import. Her stomach hurt. The meeting with Rig had gone really bad, then, though she couldn’t imagine…

  Well, she didn’t have to imagine, did she?

  “Report first,” she said. “Win Ton, sit down, please. I don’t want to put a crick in my neck, looking up at you.” That, she told herself, was better. If she wasn’t grumpy on her own behalf, he would take the request that he sit as a comment on his strength. Or lack of it.

  “Yes, Captain.” He sought the observer’s chair, Hevelin effortlessly riding his shoulder.

  Clarence cleared his throat.

  “Your man’s on his last tank of air, Theo,” he said, less neutral now. “He’s decided his ship’s lost to him—declared himself abandoned, and that’s not something a pilot wants to ever say. Claims he has expectations from the Hugglelans, still…wants ’til the next mail, thinking there’s a message.”

  She shook her head.

  “He’s that way, Clarence. He wants to be exact. To be careful. To be sure. He likes to be sure. The info we sent him…makes it clear that there’s no rush for anybody from Hugglelans to come get him. He’d written direct to the home office, to the head of the company—Rig and him were youngers together, he told me. It was how he got Primadonna, fresh and new, to call his so long as he ran goods for Hugglelans.

  “So, he sent to the top, but the boss never saw the letter. Tever screened it—and sent it on to Mayko, since she’s coordinating the expansion in this sector. Mayko answered that they were busy right now and they’d get to him eventually.”

  Clarence sighed.

  “He said that Mayko brought him Pilot Tever.”

  “That’s in one of the sends, too,” Theo admitted.

  Clarence nodded to Win Ton.

  “She’d better hear that message, then, boyo.”

  Win Ton looked like he’d eaten one of the sour cherries from one of Father’s “bird trees,” but he inclined his head.

  “The message was thus, Captain.” He took a deep breath and delivered it word for word, as she must suppose, his inflection perfectly Tranza’s own.

  She shivered, nodded, and repeated it: “…song’s on the last stanza.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to think. Nearby, she could feel Bechimo, a patient presence, watching her think—that was the notion she had, anyway. All the pieces, they ought to come together—contract, pod, Tranza, the pathfinders…yes. She felt a jolt of something that may have been surprise—Bechimo’s surprise—and opened her eyes.

  “Clarence, I need an amendment to this contract from Veep Semimodo, quick as you can manage. Get me a contract that authorizes us—in fact, pays us—to remove the mini-pod from Primadonna, as an item separate from the transshipping agreement. The language has got to include…” she paused, remembering the classroom and Therny Chirs at the front, reciting a list of Ten Essential Contractual Clauses.

  “It’s got to include this phrase: ‘Hold harmless crew, staff, contractors, and administration of the spacecraft Bechimo and of Laughing Cat Limited for incidental alterations or entry to Primadonna in the course of this work’—or whatever. The important phrases are ‘hold harmless’ and the list of our personnel.”

  Clarence nodded, a decided gleam in his eye. Theo thought maybe he hadn’t cared much for Veep Semimodo.

  “Also, given that they’ve got a pilot abandoned—Hugglelans should have been here for him days ago!—tell them that we’ll be prepared to add a passenger and expect to depart immediately after that pod is transferred and locked.”

  “But I’m not certain that I can make the pod dismount and remount—” Kara began, but Theo shook her head.

  “Your job will be to make sure the remount’s done correctly. Bechimo will back you up. I’ll do the dismount.”

  She paused, reviewing her plan. Right.

  “Joyita will be PIC. Chernak will hold herself ready to assist in any way required—”

  “Chernak!” Kara stared.

  “I’m not done yet,” Theo told her. “Joyita, the pathfinders need carrydocs acceptable to Minot Station and nametags that indicate they’re security—wait.”

  The entire bridge waited, staring at her in flavors from amused to amazed.

  “Make that ambassador’s security, if there’s a guild class for that, please, Joyita.”

  “Yes, Captain. I have appropriate papers for the pathfinders ready. Searching… There is a symbol for security attached to an ambassador’s team. I will produce appropriate badges.”

  “If Chernak is holding herself ready,” Kara said carefully, “where is Stost going to be?”

  “Stost is going to be helping Clarence and Win Ton escort Tranza back here. Just in case there’s trouble.”

  “Which there’s bound to be,” Clarence commented. “I been seeing an underthread in the station chatter, saying that, being as Tranza brought the blight that was Pilot Tever on-station, it’s Tranza oughta pay stationer damages. If word gets around he’s free on dock, things could get…inneresting.”

  “So Stost goes,” Theo said.

  “Be pleased to have ’im,” Clarence assured her solemnly.

  “That’s it, then,” Theo said briskly. “Joyita, please give the pathfinders my compliments and relay their assignments to them.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Clarence, the faster we get those amendments to the contract, the faster we can leave this port.”

  “And won’t that be a fine thing,” he returned, with a grin. “On it, Captain.” He spun his chair to face his screens. “Joyita, Veep Semimodo’s good news to my Screen Three, if you will.”

  “Minot Station contract to your Screen Three, Clarence,” Joyita replied. “Captain, the pathfinders hold themselves in readiness; they have chosen the working surname Strongline. Ship’s list identifies them as security personnel attached to Ambassador
Hevelin’s office. Papers and tags have been delivered.”

  There was a pause before he added.

  “The pathfinders beg the captain’s indulgence and ask that their personal weapons be returned to them.”

  * * * * *

  Theo danced, and she danced hard, seeking inner calm.

  Bechimo adjusted airflow, temperature, lighting. He monitored her heart rate, breathing, and endorphin levels; he did not intrude upon her thoughts or upon the silence in which she wrapped herself.

  Elsewhere, the crew was in a state of preparation, according to the captain’s orders.

  Clarence was on comm with Veep Semimodo, fighting for the wording Theo had indicated to be of importance. The extra money had been agreed to with scarcely a hesitation, but the words—the words were being resisted…

  “Well, then, I’m guessing we’ll just let the deal go, Veep,” Clarence said, eyes closed and leaning back in his chair, letting it take most of his weight. “Good day to you and thanks for taking time with us.”

  His hand moved toward the comm switch…

  “No, now, Clarence, let’s not be hasty!” Bechimo’s analysis of Semimodo’s voice indicated that the man was near panic. “I’ll…that is, where did you want that clause inserted?”

  Eyes still closed, Clarence smiled.

  Kara was taking a tea break in the galley. She sat with eyes closed, hands wrapped loosely around the teacup, possibly reviewing the pod transfer procedures.

  Win Ton was researching ready room rates and food costs, in an attempt to predict how much money would be needed to pay Pilot Tranza’s debt to the station.

  The pathfinders were also doing research—Joyita had provided them with a map of the station, with the route to the ready rooms outlined and every entrance, stairway, and lift marked.

  In the meanwhile, in the solitude of the exercise room, eyes closed and face set, Theo danced.

  * * * * *

  “Theo, you have achieved your euphoria and will be at peak for the next five shifts. Dance longer and you will exhaust yourself.”