“Nothing has fallen off, so we continue to hope.” He coughed and winced at the fresh twinges of pain. “Please tell me you’ve discovered a crate of medical supplies hidden in a corner.”
She shook her head. “Sorry. But if you wanna build yourself a new leg, we got lots of mini–servos and some titanium rod.” She sat down on the pile of padding that served as her bed and slumped against the wall. “Wish we had that crate, though. Lost another one. Woman who told us you were still back there—she was just burned too bad to last.”
Harrington closed his eyes. “I regret I did not have the opportunity to thank her for saving my life. I did thank you, did I not? I can’t remember. I’m Neville Harrington, by the way.”
“Yeah, I know.” She grinned. “Lorai Grimaldi. We met on Bone.”
Of course. That was why she looked so familiar. He would not have thought she would be so glad to see him. “What a remarkable coincidence. The Fringe can seem quite small sometimes.”
“Coincidence nothing. I was looking for you.”
Damnation, his head hurt. “A fortunate circumstance, since otherwise I would still be on that station trying to perform illicit chemical reactions for oxygen.”
Grimaldi gave him a look. “Before I got to Criminy, idiot. I heard there was a reporter staying on a shot–to–hell station and thought it might be you, so I got a berth on this ship. What were you doing in a station uniform, huh?”
Harrington winced again, from embarrassment. “I switched places—I thought temporarily—with a legitimate station worker for journalistic purposes.”
“Nosing around, most people call it,” Grimaldi commented.
“Very likely. In any event, the individual took advantage of his new appearance to escape on one of the civilian rescue ships, and by the time I, too, wished to leave, I was not permitted. There was nothing for it but to make the best of a bad situation.” He coughed again, unable to stop. Grimaldi handed him a drink bulb, which helped. She was looking amused, and he supposed he could not blame her. “May I ask why you were looking for me in the middle of a war zone?”
“Remember when you were on Bone? Somebody with you?”
Harrington nodded, starting to worry. Had something happened to Ennis? He hadn’t heard from him after he’d received a brief message indicating Ennis had arrived safely at his new post.
Grimaldi got up, opened the door to the tiny cabin, and looked up and down the corridor before closing it and sitting down again. Completely mystified, Harrington watched her take out a datatab folder from an inside pocket of her jacket. “You gotta be careful with this, OK? Seems to be one of those swallow–if–captured deals, to hear him talk about it.”
“How intriguing. I have to ask—why are you helping Commander En—“
Her hand covered his mouth in a flash. “Shh!” She took her hand away. “Don’t say his name, OK?”
He nodded, mystified. “As I was saying—I was under the impression that you were not terribly fond of either of us, so why are you helping our, er, mutual acquaintance?”
She shrugged. “Things have changed. Besides, Ren asked me to.”
“Ren?”
“Ren Roberts. You know, person both of you were looking for?”
Harrington hesitated. “You are aware that is not her real name.”
Grimaldi looked at him for a long moment. “So? She’s probably got her reasons.”
“And you will forgive my abominable curiosity, but why can’t I say his name?”
She leaned closer again. “If he didn’t put the details in that file, look in any cheap circular. Somebody’s got a big reward with his name on it, sayin’ he’s a repeat murderer.”
This was not good. What had Ennis gotten himself into now?
“Sure hope he doesn’t need you for any heavy lifting, 'cause you need some repair work,” she said, looking him over dispassionately.
“I’m in complete agreement,” Harrington said. “Perhaps I should see what he has to say.”
“Right.” Lorai got to her feet, stretching with a groan. “Gotta get back to the others.” She left, locking the door behind her.
Harrington pulled out the cheap little datapad he had used in his undercover persona, mourning the loss of his larger, custom–made model. Still, the cheap one had survived all his latest adventures in working order.
The first datatab was a shock. All vid stills, hundreds of them, which he tabbed through faster and faster as he realized what he was seeing. A crab ship. A huge crab ship, and yet there were suited human figures present at what appeared to be some sort of entrance. Where had Ennis found it? Had he gotten inside? Who were the people with him?
In his excitement he tried to sit up, but his injuries made themselves felt and he fell back with a groan. He had to find a medic as soon as the ship docked. This was too big to miss. What was in the other tabs? Harrington quickly switched the first one out. More stills, but this time on the surface of a planet he didn’t recognize. He did recognize the woman in one of them, though. Moire Cameron, without a suit or helmet, shading her eyes from the sunlight while behind her was a view of water and green islands in the distance. The implications made his head hurt even more.
The last tab had some files and a recorded message from Ennis. He looked thinner than when Harrington had last seen him, and his uniform was the worse for wear. “I hope you got this, because I need your help. You’ve seen the stills—that’s only the beginning.” He never mentioned Toren by name, but implied they were behind the murder charges and reward. Harrington replayed the message, disturbed by Ennis’s appearance and expression. He looked like he’d been through hell.
One file had instructions for contacting him by putting a certain ad in a circular. Harrington was then to show up on Kulvar three weeks after placing the ad.
That was good. He should be able to find enough medical attention to be fit and ready for the dangers of Kulvar by then. He’d send the ad in as soon as they docked. How he was going to survive the suspense until his questions were answered was another matter entirely.
¤ ¤ ¤
Ennis walked quickly through the ship, glancing at the status readouts on the hold doors. All locked, so they couldn’t be there. The holds were crammed with gear now, and Gren Forrest had expressed himself quite strongly on the subject of the Created clambering all over his crates of sensitive components. Keeping them occupied and out of trouble was Ennis's semi–official duty on Raven, and he hadn’t seen them for a while. That was usually a sign of trouble.
He reached the door of Radersent’s hold and opened it. The Created were all there, and he felt himself relax. They were always eager to spend time with the crab. They seemed to be trying to explain something using Alan’s picture dictionary.
Seeing they were occupied for a while, he left. He needed to come up with something more for them, though. They had to learn how to interact with humans, too, especially if Moire was going to be spending any amount of time on Kulvar. Sooner or later they would lose their fear and find their way off the ship. The Created were almost as ignorant of the criminal underworld as Moire and much less quick to pick up hints.
Maybe she’d like to help out. Ennis went back through the ship, looking for her. It seemed strangely quiet. He frowned, glancing in the galley. There should be at least one or two of the off–duty crew there at this time; usually more. It was empty. Then he saw the meeting room beyond it appeared to be occupied.
He went in. It was crowded with excited, talking crewmembers, gathered before the long wall in back of the room. Sheets of hardcopy had been fastened up, covering a large section of it. When he was able to get close enough, he saw it was a printout of a topo scan of Sequoyah, with many of the islands and geographical features now labeled by hand with a fine–tipped paintpen that was being passed around.
“I got mine,” Kwife Ivers, the assistant engineer, said with a grin. With neat, even lettering, he wrote “Bessel”
next to a strange, symmetrically shaped island. “Looks just like a first order function, doesn’t it?”
“I’ll take your word for it,” someone else said, snatching the pen. “Hey, looks like the first shift got the good ones. Who picked ‘Game Place’? What’s that?”
“Kids did that one.” Menehune was watching, one shoulder against the wall. “It’s where we dumped them to keep them out of trouble, remember?” She looked up and saw Ennis. “Hey, Commander. Picked what you’re gonna name?”
“What’s going on?” he asked, delaying a direct answer. He was an outsider here, too, even though nobody drew attention to it now.
“Captain decided we needed some names, and everybody gets to pick one. She did these.” Menehune tapped the sheets of printout, and Ennis recognized the main island with the cave. The island was named D’accord and the cave was New Houston.
Menehune held out the paintpen to Ennis. He looked at it for a moment, then shook his head. “I think she intended for the crew to have the honor.” It was a temptation, though. He could name something on a planet and it would stay, at least for a little while.
Menehune gave him a look of exasperation. “So? Not like there ain’t enough to go 'round. Besides, you been working like crew.”
“Yeah, go ahead, Commander. Nobody’s even started on the northern islands yet,” Ivers said with a friendly grin.
Ennis glanced around and only saw encouragement, but he still hesitated.
“Captain! Commander Ennis can name something, right?”
Ennis turned sharply. Moire Cameron was standing in the doorway, glancing around at the people and the wall of printout with a look of satisfaction.
“Of course he can.” She nodded. “Good work, people. You even left some for the folks dirtside, when we get back there.”
Ennis took the paintpen and turned back to the map, overwhelmed by the possibilities. The larger islands had already been named, and despite the hospitality of the crew he didn’t want to risk resentment by picking anything major.
He looked more closely at the area around D’accord. It took him a moment to orient himself—if the cave was there, and the bay of giant trees there—then the cliff top had faced southwest. And there was the group of three small islands he had seen, with a fourth hidden in their midst. He wrote “Shangri–La” carefully to one side of the hidden island.
Moire was standing nearby, watching him.
“What brought this on?” Ennis asked.
“I got tired of saying that–place–over–there, you know? And it gives them something to do. Not much for the crew until we get back to the sargasso.”
“It’s a good idea.” He handed the paintpen to the next person and stepped back. She’d made them all believe in Sequoyah, even him. Everybody on the ship was willing to fight for it. And everybody on the ship thought he was a part of it, just like they were. One of them.
They believed in her, but did they see the haunted look in her eyes? Did they know what she was thinking of, that she’d agreed to go back for trial? If they did, would they be so welcoming to him?
It didn’t matter. He couldn’t stay anyway. “When are we going back to Kulvar?”
Moire shrugged. “We’ll get them started on the tow ship. Probably leave after a week or so, see if we need to get any additional supplies. Gren should have the plan all ready by now. I was looking for him when I came in here. Have you seen him?”
“No. Did you look in—”
He heard voices in the corridor, one that he recognized as Gren’s. Gren stuck his head in, his shaggy eyebrows going up when he saw Moire.
“There you are. Did you know the commlink says you’re off–ship?”
Her eyes widened, and she glanced down at the control bracelet on her wrist. “It must be that damn earring again. I’m going to have to carry a regular commlink instead. Do you have the plans?”
She went out the door with Gren.
“Why doesn’t she replace it if it doesn’t work anymore?” Ennis wondered.
Menehune snorted. “'Cause she’s too busy getting stuff for the ship, or educational chi–cha for the kids, or medical supplies. If she ever gets reimbursed from the general ship fund I never seen it, and I do the books when Felden ain’t here.”
“She gave a fellow mercenary nearly everything she had, and she didn’t even tell him she’d done it,” Ennis said, remembering. “Sounds like she’s doing it again.”
Menehune put her hands on her hips and stuck out her chin. “Yeah, so we do it right back. Random, gites. Tell your watchmates, get me a list. Back on Kulvar we go shopping for the captain and nobody says a word, right?” She gave a challenging look around the assembled crew.
“Yeshure,” Ennis said. Menehune grinned.
¤ ¤ ¤
It had taken him time to find the information he could use; time and caution. Kolpe had begun to wonder if he had been mistaken in waiting, but then suddenly activity began to pick up at the construction firm. Workers were making arrangements, releasing housing, and stopping services. Members of the firm made repeated and frequent visits to the dock section.
Taking a calculated risk, he penetrated the records of the ship they had visited most often, a big freighter. It confirmed all his suspicions. The ship had been hired to take almost all the employees of the McNaulty construction company, and gear, to a Fringe planet named Bone.
He read over the shipping instructions for the equipment, frowning in puzzlement. The large–bore tunnel excavators he expected; those were used extensively in moon or asteroid site construction. But if the LBXs were there, why was there only one wall sealer? Why bore tunnels if they couldn’t be pressurized?
It was possible his target had hired another construction firm elsewhere and they were bringing the sealers. It was not completely impossible that she had found her own, but he discarded the idea as soon as it occurred to him. Sealers were rare, expensive, and more importantly, only made in Inner Systems locations. He doubted very much that Cameron would have taken the risk to acquire something the firm already owned.
Cameron had been on Bone before. Kolpe had extensive data on the planet, including a recent hand–compiled map of settlements and stations. There had been something curious about the planet, he remembered. He read through his notes. Life forms. Atmosphere. Not quite enough to be truly Earthlike, but enough to make a suit unnecessary. Or tunnel sealers.
He wondered what she was planning. A base of operations, perhaps. That was the one piece of information Toren refused to give him—why they wanted her brought in. If she was planning to construct a base on Bone, she might be able to do it in secret. His information indicated planetary security was sparse, and mostly occupied with gun battles between various flavors of armed action committees. No controlled access points to the planet, like an orbital station. If she had a surface ship she could land anywhere on the planet.
There was very little tech infrastructure on Bone, which greatly hampered his effectiveness. He would have to deal with people, and with such a small population strangers would be noticed no matter what he did to disguise himself.
He thought, staring at his datapad's screen. He was absolutely certain that Moire Cameron would be on Bone to meet the construction people. If they were building something for her there, she would insist on it. Even if they were going somewhere else, information would be there. He had to get it, and he couldn’t do it alone.
Very well. He had access to a vast amount of resources. Toren would send him anything he asked for if he told them Cameron would be there.
¤ ¤ ¤
Moire scooted closer to the edge of the top bunk to watch the action below. Alan was definitely the best of them, but then he’d been out and interacting with real people longer. Still, George was not far behind, and the rest were learning fast.
“Let’s try it again. This time you are by yourself. Ash, you go first.” Ennis straightened and folded his arms, assuming his guard p
ersona. Moire grinned. He was having far too much fun with the game playing.
The others whispered encouragement and hints to the reluctant Ash. She swallowed and did her best to hide her trepidation under a cold, stolid front. It was surprisingly effective, when she could hold it.
“Let me in,” she demanded, and gulped.
Ennis looked down his nose at her. “Why should I, gita?”
Ash froze, her eyes wide.
“Ask him why not.” Moire said. She was allowed to make suggestions, as long as they didn’t look to her first.
“Why not?”
“I don’t see nothin’ for me,” Ennis replied.
Ash glanced out of the corner of her eye at the top bunk, but Moire remained silent. Ash tilted her head, silent for a moment. “You could get in trouble if you don’t,” she said finally.
George cheered, then quickly covered his mouth with both hands as Alan and Hideo shushed him, horrified. Moire struggled to keep a straight face. It was a good reply, and even better, Ash had thought of it herself.
Ennis caught her eye, saw her amusement, and winked. He unfolded his arms, indicating the scenario was over. “Not bad, Ash. Remember not to show what you are thinking when—”
Moire’s commlink chirped, and she picked it up from the bunk. “Yeah?”
“Captain. We are ten minutes from dropout.”
“Close dropout?”
“Yes.” She thought she could hear the sigh in Kilberton’s voice. He didn’t like it, but only the legit travelers to Kulvar—all three of them—ever dropped out at the regulation safe distance. The rest had too many enemies or too little trust to wander around in realspace that long, vulnerable to attack. If they were pretending to be Downunder players they had to act like it.
“We should be docked in less than half an hour,” Moire told the others watching her, jumping down from the bunk. She looked at the commlink, grimaced, and put it back in her pocket. “I’ve got to get a replacement for that damn earring when we’re there, too.”
“But….”
Moire turned to look at Hideo, who had suddenly gone silent. She’d caught a glimpse of a fierce scowl on George, which might have something to do with it. Something was going on; the kids had been acting strangely ever since they’d left the sargasso. Maybe she should have made them stay there. No, the repair crew would have spent all their time keeping them out of trouble, and they had enough to do already. She’d just have to watch them carefully. What had she been getting into when she was their age? There was an incident with an unsanctioned pet frog, and redecorating the walls of her room with toothpaste, and…
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