“Good job,” Moire said. “Remember how to do the re–entry?”
Alan nodded slowly. Re–entry was bumpy and rough, and it felt like you were doing it wrong even when it was right. It was getting better, though. He used to not like docking, but this time he had done it all by himself without any mistakes. Maybe re–entry would be easy someday.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be watching.” Moire smiled and patted his shoulder.
It was even bumpier closer in. Moire said it was because they were coming in on the daylight side, so the atmosphere was turbulent. He didn’t understand how something you couldn’t see felt like falling over rocks.
Moire took over the controls for the approach and landing, and he was glad. The scout seemed bigger in the cave. In orbit there was more room to move.
“What do we do next?” he asked when the ship had settled and Moire was unstrapping from her seat.
“We let the others unload. Jim or Ulrike will drop supplies to the prisoner islands, and then somebody will go up for the final load. You want to ride with them?”
Alan shook his head. Flying was fun, but he didn’t want to be that far away from her. Especially if he would be going to the places where the Toren people were kept.
Moire stretched and yawned. “I’m racking out for a bit.” She looked around, moving her lips but not saying words. She started to look worried. “I don’t see George, or his friends. Find them and make sure they aren’t getting in trouble, OK?”
The cave was getting more crates and boxes. Alan wondered how much more they could unload before it was full. What would happen if they couldn’t land the scout inside? He looked all through the cave. Madele was with the rescued Created that didn’t know how to walk yet. Some others were helping, but they weren’t the ones he was looking for.
Alan went all the way to the back of the cave and then to the opening again. Then he heard Hideo’s voice, outside, and he ran to the edge to look. They were down at the bay, below the cave. Was that getting in trouble? He jumped from rock to rock down the hill. It was more fun than the trail, and he could pretend he was flying. Planets were much more interesting than stations or ships.
“This one has sparkles!” shouted Hideo, holding something up. Ash was sitting on the ground, a pile of small rocks beside her.
George turned at the sound of his footsteps. “Alan is back! Look, we’re finding neat rocks. I had the best one, but it ran away,” he said mournfully. “It was blue, and round.”
“Ran away?”
George nodded. “I picked it up, and when I put it in my pile it moved away really fast.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a rock, then. Rocks don’t move unless you push them yourself.” Alan started looking for his own rocks. The ones in the water looked best, at least for a while. When they got dry they looked just like the rocks on the beach.
“Someone is coming from the other side,” said Hideo, looking over the bay. “Oh! It’s the commander guy.”
Alan looked up, worried. Then he remembered Moire was in the cave. Ennis was coming from the other direction.
“You aren’t supposed to go there by yourself,” George informed him as he came closer. “One of the olders has to be with you, and they have to have a gun!”
“He is an older,” whispered Ash. She peered at Ennis. “Are you still sick?”
Alan could see why she asked. Ennis moved tired, and his eyes were made small with pain. “I’m better now,” he said, but it was like he had to think about it first. “I didn’t know it was dangerous out there. I’ll stay in the cave.”
“No!” Alan scrambled to his feet. Ennis stepped back, surprised. “She’s there. You stay away!”
Ennis closed his eyes for a moment, looking even sicker. He held out his empty hands. “I don’t have a gun,” he said quietly.
“If you ever hurt her again, I don’t care what she says! I’ll shoot you!” Alan felt himself shaking.
“I understand.”
Alan blinked. Ennis didn’t seem very frightened. Sad, maybe. “You do?” Ennis must not believe him.
“If I had…if someone had hurt my mother, I’d do the same thing.”
“Oh.” Alan thought for a moment. “Then…then why did you do it?”
Ennis sat on one of the large rocks at the edge of the beach. “It was a mistake,” he said finally. “The gun didn’t act like I thought it would. I don’t have it anymore.”
“Why?” asked George.
Ennis smiled with half his face, as if he was thinking of something funny and painful at the same time. “Toren—the people who put the cuff on me—took it away,” he said, tapping his wrist.
Ash drew in her breath, looking afraid. Alan was confused. Toren was bad, because they hurt people. But taking away Ennis’s gun was a good thing. Wasn’t it?
“She took my gun away too,” he muttered. “How can I kill pirates without a gun?”
Ennis smiled again, but it was a real smile this time. “Are pirates a problem?”
“They came on the first ship. Ayesha. They hurt her. I shot five of them and they stayed dead.” Alan picked up one of his rocks, then put it down, frowning. “But I had a gun.”
He looked up. Ennis was staring at him, and his face was frozen. “I see. And where….” He stopped, and shook his head. “Who taught you this? Who showed you how to kill?” His voice sounded squeezed down.
“The Controllers. At the place we came from.” Alan waved his hand at George and Ash and Hideo. “Where they made the Created.”
Ennis was silent for a long time. The others were still, watching him. When he stood up they started, jumping to their feet and ready to run. They could tell, like Alan could, that Ennis was angry. “You don’t need a gun to fight,” Ennis said, standing in front of Alan. “You can be a weapon all by yourself. I can show you.”
Alan scowled. He wanted to look away, but something about Ennis didn’t make that possible. It was like his eyes were holding onto him. “Why would you show me? I could fight you then. And I would!”
Ennis didn’t even blink. “I’m not her enemy. If you can defend yourself, that’s one less thing for her to worry about. And you can defend her. All of you,” he said, looking about.
Alan hesitated, wary of trusting Ennis. But if he could fight without a gun…he could learn, and then decide if he should fight him.
“Sounds like fun,” said George. “What do we do?”
¤ ¤ ¤
When they left the ship, Plymson insisted on going first, as always. Kolpe had to admit she took her job seriously and did it well, which irritated him. It prevented him from indulging in complete contempt.
“We gonna get some action here?” she asked, looking carefully about Jessack’s main passageway.
“I am going to the main office. If you wish to use the people there for target practice it would undoubtedly benefit our employer,” he said, biting the words off. He had never been so angry before. Now he had to fix the mess they had created in order to get his own job done. “You probably had some other kind of action in mind, however. I assume this station has a sex industry section; all the others do. Go get it out of your system.”
Plymson shook her head, grinning. “I swear you take drive dampers. Or maybe you’re dead and don’t know it yet. You spent the whole trip messing with your datapad; ain’t good for you. You don’t even watch trid on it.”
The office was in a back section of the station, without much traffic. Kolpe turned down the side corridor that led to it, breathing heavily. “That is how I do my job. I don’t shoot people, torture them, blow them up, or anything else that draws attention. In my field, boring is good.” And now, courtesy of Toren, he was followed by someone who looked and moved like she was five minutes out of shocktrooper training. Even the local drunks could tell she was a heavy.
He had to get rid of her. But first he was going to deal with the inbred incompetents at the local office.
The room visible thr
ough the first door was a front, of course. Two dockworker–lookalikes started toward him when he entered, protests sputtering to a halt when he flashed his ID. One pointed to the concealed entrance then. They both looked terrified, and Kolpe looked them over just long enough to see them start to sweat and shake. It felt good.
“Stay here,” he told Plymson curtly, and scanned in. The manager in charge, Bronsen, was not as easy to intimidate. Kolpe had to produce his encrypted contract to get him to talk.
“We found her underneath a dropdown,” Bronsen said reluctantly. “She had a control rod, an injector with a cartridge of counteractant for antitrib, and a gun. He must have surprised her somehow—but I don’t see how he could have escaped when he was shot up with antitrib. He would barely be able to move.”
“He moved enough to kill one of your trained agents,” Kolpe reminded him acidly. Their so–called trained agents.
Bronsen’s face hardened. “We pulled the tracer code from the control rod as soon as we found it. We found and isolated the ship he was on, got a diversion going to draw the local law enforcement away, and attempted an extraction. However, the ship managed to pull free and escape, and evaded pursuit.” He spread his hands. “The ship, Raven, had been docked before the agent even arrived. We don’t know anything more about it. It’s possible he took a chance and got on board without their knowledge.”
Well. They hadn’t put out a random floating holo–ad, but that was about the only thing they hadn’t done to draw attention. Kolpe raised an eyebrow, his mind working furiously. Maybe they should.
“I want all the details on this officer. I believe I can help you with your problem.”
¤ ¤ ¤
Ennis walked slowly past the crates and boxes in the hold. They were getting better; he could hardly hear them moving. His plan was working well. The Created were enthusiastic about what they thought was learning to hunt pirates; the crew, especially Gren Forrest, were happy the Created had something to keep them out of trouble, and he and Moire were relieved to see them, even Alan, learn to follow orders. They would need that once they got to the sargasso.
He spun, the high–beam flashlight in his hand flickering over the boxes.
“Your elbow is showing, George.” George was ahead of the others, like usual, and had forgotten some details in his enthusiasm. Like usual.
“There’s no room,” George complained. “I can’t go in any more.”
“A pirate won’t tell you, they’ll shoot. You need to find better cover,” Ennis said firmly. “OK, turn on your lights.”
The Created rustled and mumbled, and an array of high–beams converged on him. “Hideo, you’re too close to Ash. If you aren’t careful or she moves, you could hit her.” One beam was coming from up high, and was centered on his chest. Alan had climbed on top of the crates. “See where Alan is? That’s good. I might not see him up there, and if I did see him and fire back I’d have to take my eyes off of the rest of you.” Alan was always very motivated to make him a target.
“Did we win?” shouted Hideo from the back.
Ennis rubbed his chin. “You got me, but George and Ash are hurt. Try it again, and this time remember to watch for each other as well as….”
The door to the cargo area opened. Carlos Montero peered in. “Oh, are you busy? I just want to borrow Alan for a bit, if that’s all right.”
Alan jumped lightly down from the crates. “Can’t we kill the commander one more time?”
Montero’s foggy expression turned to one of distress. “Oh dear. I don’t think so. It really isn’t nice, you know.”
Ennis struggled with himself, trying not to grin. The crew had warmed up to him over the last few weeks, at least as long as the conversation stayed away from dangerous topics. They’d even loaned him some clothing to extend his limited supply. Montero had never even questioned his presence, but sometimes Ennis suspected he had confused him with a regular crewmember.
“It isn’t real,” George said reassuringly. “He’s being a pirate, and we’re sneaking up on him. He killed me twice.”
“Oh, that’s all right, then.” Montero looked relieved.
“What did you want Alan for?” Ennis asked, dragging the conversation back to its original starting point. Carlos Montero and the Created operated on much the same level of distraction.
“Just getting some things ready for when we arrive. Captain said we should be there tomorrow…at least, I think that’s what she said.” Montero stared abstractedly at the hold door control panel.
“You haven’t asked her?”
Montero shook his head. “I didn’t want to wake her with a comm signal if she’s asleep. It’s a long run for one pilot.”
Looking at his chrono, Ennis saw it was late, ship time. “I think we’re done here for now. Go help him out, Alan, and I’ll think up more things to do for later on.”
The Created trooped out the door after Montero, chattering happily as they told him all about what they’d been doing. Even Alan didn’t spare him a backward glance. His earlier hostility and suspicion were still present but not as open or obvious. Even so, Ennis was careful during the hand–to–hand sessions and at the earliest opportunity had the Created spar with each other instead of with him. They were very strong, and frighteningly quick. All they lacked was training to be very, very dangerous.
Out in the corridor, he hesitated, then headed for the bridge. He could see if Moire was there and check the arrival time. There had been another pilot on the ship the last time. What had happened to him?
Standing in the bridge entrance, he saw Moire slouched in the pilot’s chair, staring tiredly at the display. She picked up a drink bulb, took a gulp, then set it down, her arm dangling over the side of the chair.
“Montero is saying we’ll arrive sometime tomorrow?” he said finally.
She stirred and lifted her head to look back at him, then sat up with a groan and tapped a control.
“Yeah. Should be at the sargasso just after Prime ends.” She slouched down again, silent.
Ennis went up to the communication station nearby and took a seat.
“How did you find this place? It seems…well, out of the way.”
“Yeah. No kidding.” Moire snorted, without humor. She closed her eyes. “We found it when Ayesha had her little accident. Helped by the pirates, of course. They didn’t know what a dancy ship she was to fly.”
“This is where Alan got his five kills?”
She opened her eyes at this, fully awake now. “Told you about that, did he?”
“Yes. He was regretting not being able to make me number six at the time.”
A smile flickered across her face and disappeared. “He’s good, you know. Best I’ve seen. Makes me wonder what Toren was up to, trying to train a supersoldier. Don’t need them in mines.” She subsided in a dark silence.
Ennis persevered. “The pirates flew the ship here?”
“Ship flew itself. Pirates got the drive oscillating, and then it latched on to the strongest gravitational anomaly I’ve ever heard of. I couldn’t get…” She stopped, covering her face with her hands. “If the drive hadn’t fried itself we would have died.”
“Where’s your relief pilot?” he asked. “You look exhausted.”
“He’s busy,” she said curtly. Montero had been right. She was doing all the piloting herself. Moire jerked a thumb at the wall, where a hammocklike sling had been mounted. “Got a temporary set up, but I can’t stop checking. We should be hours away from the danger point, but what if the damn thing moved, or changed strength?” Her voice was ragged now.
“Let me help,” Ennis said without thinking.
“Can you fly web?” Moire snapped.
“I can read instruments. Show me what to look for, and I’ll watch. If anything happens I’ll wake you.”
Moire turned away. “It’s not much longer. I’ll sleep when we get there.”
“Why do you have to do everything yoursel
f? If it’s dangerous you need to be able to deal with it, and you look shredded. Get some sleep, dammit! If you don’t trust me, get somebody else up here.”
She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, sinking into the chair as if deflating. She waved him over to the board. “That’s the coupling readout,” Moire said quietly, pointing to a display. “If it ever gets above fifteen, yell. And if it reads eighteen, even for a second, hit the dropout.” She tapped the protective cover of a red scram button.
“Coupling readout fifteen, yell; eighteen, dropout,” he repeated.
Moire stood, stretching stiffly. “Don’t take your eyes off that display, even for a second. It happens so fast….” her voice shook, and she turned back, as if having second thoughts about leaving.
“Go sleep. I’ll watch the readout,” Ennis said. He searched her face, seeing fatigue, irritation, and the same disquieting shadow in her eyes that he’d seen earlier. A painful shadow that shouldn’t be there. Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he snatched his hand away just before it touched her.
“You’re not looking at it now,” Moire said, giving him an enigmatic look as she left. Ennis sat down hard in the pilot’s chair, jaw clenched and heart pounding, staring fixedly at the readout. It read a nice, safe 9.73.
You need to keep your mind on your job, soldier. Whatever had just happened wasn’t part of it. He glanced briefly away from the board. Moire was already sound asleep in the temporary, and he let out a pent–up breath, feeling better.
CHAPTER 9
ONE OWNER FROM NEW
Moire looked over at the suited Created and suppressed a shudder. They’d done fine on the drills. She had to remember that. The trouble was they didn’t understand why the suits were needed. She toyed with the idea of leaving them on Raven, but regretfully discarded it. She might be able to trust Alan not to get into trouble, but the other three needed constant supervision and all her crew were busy with other jobs.
She might have felt a little better if they were wearing the tougher work suits, like the rest of the crew. Trouble was they were damned expensive and hard to find in the salvage ships, so they didn’t have extras. Only construction workers needed them.
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