“Cordoba’s unhappiness will be temporary,” Zandovar said in an absent manner, still looking them over. His gaze sharpened, and the ends of his mouth twitched slightly upward. “Merlliot. Why have you not come to see me earlier?” His voice had gone even softer, and Ennis felt his stomach tighten. Zandovar wouldn’t have his people shoot them here; too much risk of damaging his expensive decor. Somebody was going to die soon, though. He was sure of it.
“Didn’t think you’d want me down here.” Merlliot was one of the attackers, and he looked nervous but not desperate. “Since I worked for Olvey, 'n all.”
“I used to work for Olvey,” Zandovar said gently. “So did Jonders, and many others. It is not a permanent condition.” A long silence deepened. “Perhaps you can give me an explanation for why the station enforcers felt the need to leave their comfortable offices. Why my explicit commands were ignored.”
“She gets it going soon as she sees us!” Merlliot said, pointing at Moire. “We didn’t say nothin’!”
Zandovar thought for a moment, chin in hand, then turned a polite, inquiring gaze to Moire.
“They shot and killed one of my crew as he opened our hatch,” she said in a tight, controlled voice. “We returned fire in self–defense.”
A more military than criminal description of events, but that shouldn’t be a problem. However, the more she talked the more Zandovar would know she wasn’t fluent in the language of the underworld, and that would create a whole different set of problems.
“I have said the third level is to be kept quiet. Too much violence disturbs our…special equilibrium with the upper levels. I have said that all who break this rule will be punished.”
Ennis tensed, frustration building as he desperately tried to think of a way out. He could see none.
Zandovar gestured. “However. This is a special situation, is it not, Merlliot? This is not the first time you have tried to rob a ship there. Work has been hard to find, hasn’t it? Thought you could make Third your own? I’ve been looking for you.” He smiled, showing white teeth. “Did you think I did not know?” he whispered.
Merlliot was sweating now, and one of his gang made a sudden dart for the door, only to be brought up short. A series of brief, unpleasant noises came from the knot of people around him. When they moved away he was lying on the floor, coughing up blood.
Zandovar made a grimace of distaste. “A waste of effort, and you’ve made a mess. Take them to see the view.”
“No! No, it was them, they did it! They—” Merlliot yelled desperately as he was dragged out along with his gang. The door shut with a soft click, and Ennis heard nothing more.
A little better, but they still weren’t out of it yet. What did Zandovar want? How could they negotiate with him? He was too hard to read, and Ennis hadn’t heard much about him. Yolanda…did she know where they were? What could she do if she did?
“Which of you is in charge?” Zandovar asked, hands behind his back. Before Ennis could take the chance to deflect attention from Moire, Jonders pointed at her.
“She give orders, and they do it.”
“Thank you. Is that true?”
Moire nodded, her jaw working. “If you’re worried about a mess, she’s bleeding all over your floor because those guys shot her,” she said jerkily, indicating Ash. “Jonders was in too much of a hurry to let us fix her up. Can we at least get some bloodglue?”
Ennis tried to keep breathing. It might work, but it was a risk. He could see no hint of what Zandovar was thinking in his dark, cold eyes.
“I have not met you before, I think. What is your name?”
Moire gave him back stare for stare. “Ren Roberts. I’ve done business on Kulvar before.”
He tilted his head slightly to one side. “And that business is….”
“I sell ships. Salvaged ships.”
In the background an androgynous individual with long white hair, apparently an assistant, tapped at a datapad. After a brief moment, the assistant showed the datapad to Zandovar.
“I see. You have been very fortunate in finding these salvage ships, it appears. It does not take you long.”
Moire smiled tightly. “No. It doesn’t.”
Zandovar looked at her for a moment, then glanced at Ennis. His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Jonders. Have them bring medical supplies to the greenhouse, and refreshment. Come, you will find this interesting.”
Flanked by several armed guards, Zandovar led them along a side corridor and down a ramp. Metal doors in a flowing, ornate design opened to a large, high–ceilinged room with plants in containers and growing along the open beams. The air was damp and warm, and it smelled…it smelled like Sequoyah did. Alive.
“A garden.” Alan said softly, looking about in wonder. His face lost some of the angry, sullen look.
“Is it secret?” George asked. Moire and Ennis both shushed them. Neither had spoken loudly, and Ennis hoped nobody had noticed. Ash was barely conscious, her head hanging down and her feet dragging as they carried her.
The greenhouse had cast metal benches along the sides, and they laid Ash down on one. Moire stripped off her jacket and put it under her head as Ennis tried to see how bad the injury was.
“I think the bullet is still in there,” he said finally. “She needs a medic.” One of Zandovar’s guards came up and handed him a standard medical kit. He rifled through it, pulling out a packet of bloodglue, a fluid pack, and some painkillers.
Moire knelt down beside him, next to the bench. “What does he want?” she whispered, reaching for the bloodglue and cracking the packet open.
“Can’t tell. I don’t think he’s planning to kill us.” He didn’t tell her that had him even more worried. There was no good reason for the main crime lord of Kulvar to give some unknown ship captain and her crew a tour of his home—he wanted something from her.
Ennis tore the leg of Ash’s pants where the wound was, and Moire dabbed at the caked blood with a swab before squeezing the bloodglue in. The painkillers were already starting to take effect, and Ash had drifted off.
“When you are finished, come and join me,” Zandovar said, seated at a wrought metal table in the center of the greenhouse.
“You do the talking,” Moire whispered.
“I can’t. He knows you’re in charge, it will make him suspicious.”
“What do I say?” She sounded on the verge of panic.
He briefly covered her hand with his own, under the guise of attaching the fluid pack. “He’s motivated only by power and profit. Pretend you are too.”
“Right.” Moire nodded sharply, looking grim and determined, and stood up. She pointed at Alan, George, and Hideo. “You stay here with Ash. Don’t talk.”
Ennis followed her to the table. Moire took the chair opposite Zandovar and Ennis stood behind her and to one side, in his character of subordinate. On a large plate in the center of the table were several angular, crispy–brown objects. Smaller plates were before each chair.
“Merlliot was one of the last remaining toolers of the previous ceeyo,” Zandovar said casually. “I knew he was trying something; I also knew someone was robbing ships without my permission. Until now I was not able to find him in the act. I appreciate your assistance in removing this final obstacle.” He gestured at the plate. “Please, try one.”
Moire leaned stiffly forward and took one of the strange, triangular things. She took a bite. “Interesting,” she said, when a raised eyebrow seemed to make an inquiry.
“And this means….”
She licked her lips. “I’ve, ah, never had wings with that type of seasoning. It’s good.”
Wings?
Ennis thought he saw a flash of a bemused expression in Zandovar’s face, and broke into a sweat. She took several more bites, then put the rest back on the small plate in front of her. Now it looked like a framework of rods. Bones. They were eating bone meat. Why wasn’t she finishing it? Zandovar might be offended
at the waste.
Before he could think of a way to warn her, the ceeyo spoke. “I wonder that I have not heard of you before,” Zandovar said, sitting back after selecting one of the delicacies. “Given your…aggressive salvage business.”
That had to be the most polite way to refer to piracy he’d ever heard.
“I prefer to keep a low profile,” Moire said, with complete sincerity. “I find ships, I sell them. I hadn’t heard you were interested in that line of business.”
Zandovar looked at her coolly for a moment, then smiled. Ennis started to worry again. “I am always interested in discussing business. While it is true I do not deal with ships, I do have an interest in…crew. You could salvage them as well, you know.”
Ennis saw Moire stiffen as his meaning became clear. Casually resting his hand against the back of her chair, he poked her with one finger as a warning.
“My salvage techniques are something I prefer to keep to myself. Witnesses are inconvenient,” she said finally. That was good; she made it clear there were no survivors to be sold into slavery. He gave a gentler poke, and she continued. “If I can find a way around that problem I would be pleased to do business with you. Perhaps you could tell me what you are looking for?”
“Certainly. Contact me when you have something; I can make use of them all in some way.” Ennis thought of the hanging man and suppressed a shudder.
Moire chose to interpret that as a dismissal and edged her chair back. “Thanks. I will.”
Zandovar smiled slightly. “You are in a hurry to leave? I am told your ship is no longer docked.”
“I don’t want to waste your time. My ship will be returning soon.”
Zandovar blinked, and again Ennis had the impression the crime lord was puzzled.
“So why did you order it to leave?”
“To give my people freedom of action.” Moire was standing now, and Ennis could see her face wore an expression as enigmatic as Zandovar’s.
“Your orders are carried out, I see. Does he follow your order to keep a low profile?” Zandovar asked, indicating Ennis. “That must be a difficult task for him, given his previous…proclivities.”
“He’s doing quite well,” Moire said, glancing back at him and smiling. “Once I gave him a few hints.”
Zandovar’s eyes widened. “Indeed.” He gestured, indicating they could leave. “You can see Jonders on your way out for a passkey.”
¤ ¤ ¤
Moire caught herself sagging and forced herself to stand upright. She was so tired…she looked at her chrono. Two and a half hours since the firefight, and the medtech wasn’t finished with Ash. At least they were back on Level Three, where their lack of weapons wasn’t as dangerous.
The passkey was an annoyance. They would need one eventually to get to the lower levels, but she’d been planning on a per–use one. Much, much cheaper than the fullsite Jonders sold her. Since the alternative was somebody getting killed and ruining what good impressions they had made on the ceeyo, she didn’t complain.
Once they’d gotten to Three it wasn’t so bad. After a brief but furious argument about who would go, which she lost, Ennis had left to send a signal to Kilberton. She didn’t have a choice—they had little time before he was supposed to leave for good. She still didn’t like sending Ennis off by himself, unarmed.
“I left you in an empty dock row!” Yolanda barged in the door of the medical office, pushing past a medtech that didn’t get out of the way fast enough. She stopped where Ash was lying. “Ancestors preserve…what happened?”
“Ambush from another docked ship,” Moire said wearily. “Pico’s dead. Ash got hit and lost a lot of blood. We had to go down to see the big boss before we could do anything about it.”
“Copra. You mean…the ceeyo?” Her voice was hushed.
Moire nodded.
“All right, she’ll do,” the fierce little medtech said before Yolanda could say anything else. “Gotta rest though, OK? And get somma those regen fluid packs; that’ll help with the blood loss. Leave that alone, it’ll heal faster. Damn near like a little kid, you are.”
Hideo stopped fiddling with the bandage on his arm, and Moire tried to stop her racing heart. The medtech had just been using a figure of speech; he didn’t know anything. He couldn’t.
“Yolanda. How did you find us?”
“Ennis told me. Said to tell you ship’s coming in. Damn near gave me a seizure when I come up and the dock’s empty, and I couldn’t get Kilberton on the comm. I guess you had good reason.”
“That’ll be fifty ED,” the little medtech said, glaring at them. He seemed to blame Moire for everything. Payment…she’d given everything she had left to Ennis to send the signal. Moire glanced at Yolanda, mouthing a question, and she rummaged through her pockets before pulling out a paychip. The medtech’s mood seemed to improve with payment. “Rent ya a carry–cart for five,” he said easily.
“That won’t be necessary.” Ennis was in the doorway. Then Moire saw he had a float pallet with him, and she felt giddy with relief. She knew that float–pallet. Raven was back.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” She patted Alan on the shoulder. He shrugged away from her angrily. He’d been in a mood ever since the firefight. Well, on the ship they could sort things out. They’d have the long return trip to the sargasso to do it.
Ennis didn’t say anything all the way back to the ship. She kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye, and came to the conclusion he was in some kind of mood too.
With the Created finally stashed safely in their cabin and the door shut, he turned to her. “Were you trying to get us killed?” he said finally.
“What? I didn’t know those goons were going to be there!” Moire said, hurt and puzzled. “It was not my idea to go out, remember?”
He shook his head sharply. “No. In the greenhouse.”
Moire sighed. “You’re going to have to explain. Use small words, OK?”
“What were those things you and Zandovar were eating?”
The question didn’t make sense at first. “Wings. Chicken wings. Snack food, you know?”
Yolanda was listening to all this with growing amazement and horror. “He let you have some?”
Some of the fierce intensity left Ennis’s eyes as he searched Moire’s face, seeming to pick up on her confusion. “The only chicken I’ve ever had has been grown in a vat, in nodules. No wings.”
“Uh oh.” Now she understood. Real chicken wings, meaning real chickens, meaning, here–and–now, lots and lots and lots of money. And she had mentioned how she liked the sauce. “That must be why he ate the bones.” She shrugged at their stares. “Well, in my day you didn’t.”
Yolanda made a little whimpering noise. “You left yours?”
Ennis nodded, a small, wild grin on his face. “That is correct. The ceeyo of Kulvar was showing off his wealth and you didn’t even notice. He’s going to be very curious about you now.”
Blast and damn. Zandovar looked like the type of guy who liked to indulge his curiosity, and had the means to do it.
“Yolanda!” Kilberton was half–running down the corridor, his eyes wide. “I heard you…you are all right? Commander Ennis said nothing about you and I worried.”
“Yeah, I met up with him after he sent the message. I’m OK,” she said, looking at her feet and scowling. “Better than Pico, anyway. Or Ash.”
“I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid they’d notice a direct signal and perhaps locate you,” Kilberton said, a worried expression on his face.
“Almost wish you had. Might've been able to help.” Kilberton hung his head, and she hurriedly added, “Ya did good. You didn’t know. Hey, Captain—I’ll go see if we got any of those fluid packs the medtech said to use.”
Moire nodded, and Kilberton and Yolanda turned to leave. “OK, and finish up any business we still have on station. We’ll leave when you’re done.”
“No.”
Ennis held out a hand to stop her. He looked up, and his blue eyes were bright with some strong emotion. “I saw Harrington.”
The news was like a jolt of cold water. “Are you sure?” she asked weakly. “The circulars….”
“I know! I saw him when they were taking us down. He saw us too, I’m certain.”
“Great.” Now they had to find him. That was the whole reason for being here, after all. She should be glad. “What do we do now?” Damn, her voice was rough. She needed sleep.
“He contacts us. There’s a maildrop I set up earlier for this. I checked before I went back to the clinic. Nothing yet.”
Yolanda came back down the corridor, carrying something in both hands. “We only got two more of these. You want I should buy more?” she asked, holding out the fluid pack. She handed Ennis a blue foil box with the other hand.
So Yolanda had been doing some shopping for Ennis? “Yeah. Order more. We have to stay a little longer, until we get a message.” She tilted her head at Ennis and he gave Yolanda the maildrop code. “Let us know when something comes through.”
The door to the Created’s cabin opened, and Alan peeked out. When he saw them there he went to shut it, but Moire spoke first. Something was eating him and she should deal with it now, even if she felt like hell. “Come out, Alan. I want to talk to you.”
He shuffled out reluctantly, refusing to look at her.
“I’ll check on Ash,” Ennis said, getting the hint. He took the fluid packs and went inside.
She looked at Alan for a moment, wondering how to handle the situation. What would her father have done?
“Come on. Bet you’re as hungry as I am.” He said nothing, but followed her to the galley. She grabbed a leftover fruit square and found some of the thick, sweet drink Alan liked. “Sit.” He sat. She put the mug in front of him. He pushed it away.
She waited for a moment. “Are you hurt? Do you need to see the medic too?”
“No.” A sullen, resentful answer, but with something else lurking in the background.
“Then what’s wrong?” She put a hand under his chin and lifted until he was looking at her. He squeezed his eyes shut.
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