“I don’t like you anymore!” he said finally, his voice catching. Tears started to well up and fall down his face. “You…you yell at me, and…and won’t let me have a gun, and….”
OK. Now she had something to work with. “And what?”
He sobbed, unable to speak. Moire got up and found some dry–wipes, and gently dabbed at his face. He cried even harder, suddenly clutching at her and burying his face in her jacket. “Don’t make me go away, don’t!”
“I can’t.”
He looked up, gulping. “You want him to stay and not me!”
A very observant young man, Alan. She wondered how long he’d known.
She sat down next to Alan and put her arm around him. “If I tried to make you leave, Commander Ennis would be very angry with me. He wouldn’t like me anymore.”
He wasn’t completely convinced, but now he was curious. “Why?”
Moire hesitated, trying to figure out how to explain without creating more confusion. “He grew up in a very bad place, with bad people. His mother and father died when he was much younger than you. Someone found him and took care of him, or he would have died too. You’re too young to be out on your own, Alan,” she said, brushing back the hair on his forehead. He was so miserable, and she had to make him understand. “You would get hurt. He wouldn’t like that at all. And I would be very sad if you weren’t here.”
“You yelled at me. Loud, and your face was mad,” Alan persisted, but he still held on to her. He was trying to understand.
Moire sighed. “Remember how many people were there? Remember their guns?”
“I could have shot them,” he said doggedly.
“You could have shot some of them. We didn’t have enough ammunition. We had to surrender to survive. I yelled at you to drop your gun,” she said, holding his face in her hands, “because I was frightened. If you hadn’t dropped it they would have killed you.”
“They would?” he whispered. “How did you know?”
She hugged him, shaking her head. “That’s one of the things you’ll learn as you get older, OK? But meanwhile, you have to do what I tell you to.”
He mumbled something in her shoulder that sounded like grudging agreement, and she leaned back against the bench, stroking his hair. She studied her half–eaten fruit square, too tired to finish it, and started to doze off.
Soft footsteps brought her back to alertness. Ennis was standing nearby. “I think you should check on the others. Our recent adventures seem to have upset them.”
Alan stirred and blinked, rubbing his eyes, and Moire got up stiffly. “They scared the hell out of me, so I can’t even imagine what they were thinking.”
“They thought they were back at the Place,” Alan said sleepily. He shuddered. “I thought I was, when I saw the man hanging.”
Moire exchanged a horrified look with Ennis, fully awake now, and left the galley for the Created’s cabin.
When she got there she could see he was right. They had pulled the pads from the bunks and piled them in the space between, and they were huddled together under their blankets—even Ash. They looked at her fearfully when she came in. They had done this before when they first started traveling on the ship, until they had been persuaded to leave the bunks intact.
“We’ll…we should put them back?”
Did it really matter? “You can leave them there for now. But you need to be careful of Ash. That can’t be comfortable for her.” With Alan’s help, she rearranged the pads and pillows so nobody was squishing Ash. Alan squirmed into the group, and they all seemed to relax now they were sure nobody was angry with them.
Moire sat down on the edge of the pads, and Ennis took a seat nearby. He was still carrying the blue foil box.
“Does this make you feel better?” she asked cautiously.
George turned his head to look at her. Ash’s head was resting on his stomach. “All together is…we were allowed. They said not to touch, but sleeping time was different. It made the bad things stay away from remembering.”
“Sometimes they would put you alone, and dark,” Hideo said very quietly. “After they hurt you.”
She would leave the light on.
“Do you think I should give this to her now?” Ennis asked the Created, holding up the box.
“Yeah!” George said, his face brightening. Ash made a protesting noise when he shifted. “Is it the one we said?” Hideo sat up, holding his blanket close around him.
Moire took the box. It was heavy, and it took her a moment to figure out how to open it. Inside was a broad, gold bracelet and a graceful carving of a dragon, curved back to reach for a dangling blood–red stone.
“You needed a new captain’s earring,” Ennis said, looking bland. “They thought it should be something like this.”
The cool metal of the dragon fit easily about her ear. It was precisely balanced and even adjustable. Under the control bracelet was a datatab, presumably the instructions. Even it was ornate, the plastic cover washed in a rippled pattern of thin gold.
“Thanks, kids. This is great.” She touched the bracelet lightly, starting when a display panel became visible. After a moment it faded and the bracelet looked uniformly metallic again.
“The rest is in your cabin,” Ennis added. “The crew also had some ideas.”
The rest? Her eyes stung, and she stared at the blue foil box completely unable to speak. It was fatigue, that’s all. They’d planned this…Moire covered her eyes with her hands.
Someone was tugging gently at her arm. Hideo looked at her with concern and held up the corner of a blanket. “You could stay,” he offered.
Murmurs of agreement came from the other Created. “You guys need to get some sleep,” she said gruffly.
“I don’t want to sleep,” Ash said, her face twisting. “I’ll see it again. I don’t want to!” George tightened his arm about her.
“How about I read you a story?” Moire asked. “Then you could sleep thinking about that.”
“OK, but you have to stay until we are all sleeping,” Hideo said after a moment.
That sounded fair. Alan handed her his battered reader. She shifted closer, and they snuggled up. She shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position, and discovered Ennis accommodating her quite comfortably indeed. She started reading from The Jungle Book. After the first story she could see the Created start to breathe slower, and she gradually let her voice trail off midway through the second when she thought they were all asleep.
The Created had the right idea. This was very comfortable. She suspected Ennis was asleep too, even though he was still holding her. The Universe wouldn’t let this last long, in her experience. Well, the Universe could just wait until it handed her the next emergency.
Yolanda would find her if anything went wrong. Very carefully, moving as slowly as she could to avoid waking anybody, she took out her commlink and turned the sound off.
CHAPTER 17
CONCERNING THE DANGERS OF PART–TIME JOBS
Undoubtedly it all made perfect sense from the correct perspective, Harrington mused. Good wine needed no bush, and a discreet, secure venue for meetings involving those with criminal tendencies would likewise have no need for something as mundane as a sign.
Since he was not a member of the criminal underclass—yet—he had some difficulty finding it. Really, a few minutes of time on Ennis’s part giving at least the sector and level would have been appreciated. Perhaps that was not done on Kulvar.
“I am here for a meeting,” Harrington said to the armed and armored guard standing before the entrance.
“Sure you are,” she drawled with tolerant amusement. The other guards scattered about the corridor snickered. She beckoned to someone inside, in the shadows. “Think you can take Killer here in by yourself, or you need backup, eh?”
The summoned guard drew back his lips in a half snarl and jerked his head at Harrington to follow him. The darkness was sudden, and Harr
ington stumbled on some roughness on the floor before his eyes adapted.
“Scanner.” His escort had stopped before a round platform, just large enough to stand on. It was lit from above. More guards were dimly visible ringing the room, weapons at the ready. Harrington took his place on the platform and waited, trying to not feel like a target.
He could hear sotto voce queries and puzzled answers, then silence. A young man with phosphorescent hair came out from behind a screened display and walked up to him. “You ain’t got no weapons,” he said, with an air of pointing out a potential embarrassment.
“Yes, I am aware,” Harrington said.
His matter–of–fact reply seemed to disconcert the young man for a moment. “Sell ya one,” he offered, looking concerned.
“I am sure the security here will be quite adequate for my needs,” Harrington replied.
“That’s if tha rules get broke,” the young man said, looking shocked. “Ev’body gets one weapon. We tag it so’s we knows who done what. You start it, you get banned. Got some nice hotshots, quick powerup and small grip.”
“Thank you, but I believe my, er, colleagues will be able to provide what I need,” he said firmly. Perhaps he was underdressed for the locale, but he was reluctant to purchase weapons from someone with no real interest in keeping him alive.
The glowing–haired man shrugged. “Gotcher code? Lookup’s on the wall goin’ in.”
Harrington stepped off the platform in the direction indicated and found a long, narrow corridor with tubelights at the bottom of one wall and a series of alcoves with privacy screens along the other. Finding an empty alcove, he entered and tapped in the code Ennis’s message had given him on the display. A number and a floor map flashed up, and after a moment disappeared.
He followed the indicated directions through more dimly lit corridors. The number that he had been given matched that on the door of a closed booth. He pressed the annunciator, and shortly the door clicked and slid open. Ennis was standing inside, out of immediate view. Once Harrington was inside and the door closed, Ennis turned up the lights.
“What happened to you?” Ennis gestured at his face.
“Oh, I had some difficulty leaving Criminy. For future reference, pressure door hydraulic fluid can irritate sensitive skin.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ennis grinned, and Harrington found himself startled into thinking Ennis had changed, but in a subtle way, difficult to pinpoint. It wasn’t just the lack of uniform. Ennis was wearing ordinary ship–crew gear now. His jacket had a grey patch with what appeared to be an ink–and–brush symbol of a bird, with the name “Raven” at the top. “Help yourself,” he said, waving at the small drink dispenser at the other end of the table. “You’ll probably need it.”
“You appear to be having some adventures of your own,” Harrington said, selecting a short uxo. The one benefit of uxo was that it was not pretending to be anything else. Anyone who had ever had real brewed beer suffered in the Fringe. “Now tell me, what have you been doing to get a price on your head?”
Ennis leaned back in his seat. “You remember a certain large military and colony supply company that wanted to talk to me? They infiltrated the base I was posted to and kidnapped me. When I managed to get away, they had the brilliant idea of the reward. I have no idea if there really is a warrant out for me—out here it doesn’t matter. The reward is real enough.” He shrugged. “That’s why you’re here. I can’t even get to Fleet to report in.”
All very well, but it didn’t quite add up. He took a sip of uxo. “You know, I have the impression the mail service is still working.”
Ennis sighed. “Think it through, will you? They got to me in a Fleet base. Their agent was posing as a Fleet technician. Somebody had a lot of inside help for that, and—”
A soft beep interrupted. Ennis stood and looked at a small viewer, then dimmed the lights and opened the door to admit someone. With the door closed and the lights back, Harrington found himself staring at Moire Cameron.
He’d expected her to be here, of course. It was just that the theoretical possibility had nowhere near the impact of the physical reality. She was wearing a dark red sheetleather jacket, and a red drop dangled from her left ear, forever beyond the grasp of the gold dragon that reached for it. She looked very much at home on Kulvar.
She tilted her head at him. “Mr. Harrington. A pleasure to see you again.”
Especially when you aren’t pointing a weapon at me, I’m sure. “Please call me Neville. It feels like we’ve been acquainted for a long time.”
She smiled. “Centuries.” She took a seat next to Ennis and handed him a datatab folder. He flipped it open, and taking out a small datapad, he inserted the first tab and tapped at the controls.
“While I am fully determined to report in as soon as I can, we have some important information to get back to Fleet immediately.”
He had to listen, of course. His curiosity would permit nothing else. He had to find out what the two of them, together, thought was so important they sought him out to take it back. He also needed to know why they had specified him as the messenger.
Cameron was leaning back in her seat, watching Ennis with a faint smile. She glanced at Harrington. “Looks like Lorai had no trouble finding you. You got here quick.”
“She is a most determined individual,” Harrington replied, firmly repressing the rising memories of desperation and despair, hoping his handcrafted oxygen tent would work. “I had only just arrived, and was arranging the message you had requested when I saw you go by.”
Ennis and Cameron had similar hardened expressions for a moment, then Ennis turned his datapad so Harrington could see the screen.
“We have a ship,” he said simply.
Harrington had studied the stills Lorai Grimaldi had given him until he had them memorized. He knew they had found a crab ship. Now he was seeing that they had gone inside.
“I am fascinated, utterly fascinated. But how on earth do you suppose I can help you? With all due respect, the military is not exactly eager to spend time in the company of the press, and I….”
“…have done it before,” Ennis interrupted. “You sent back word after our first visit here. It got to them before I did.”
Oh dear. “I have no notion what gave you such a fantastic idea, but I do assure you I am not a clandestine member of the armed forces,” Harrington said, trying to imbue his voice with polite scorn.
“Did I say you were?” Ennis was equally polite. He reached into his jacket pocket and brought something out. “To him, that might even be an advantage. He likes to work outside the rules.” He held a small glowball between his fingers.
His reaction must have showed.
“Gotcha,” breathed Cameron, her eyes narrowing, watching him from her deceptively relaxed position.
This was not going at all well. He took another, deeper drink of uxo. “Just supposing, for the sake of argument, that this incredible story were true—what would be so important for them to know? We have seen crab ships before, rather frequently, in fact. I don’t wish to cast doubt on your veracity, but I haven’t actually seen the thing myself, you know. They will…they might ask these questions, don’t you think?”
“It’s intact. Working,” Cameron said. “I know that’s not common.”
“Any time we’ve gotten close, you–know–who steps in and grabs it,” Ennis added grimly. “I don’t understand how they get away with it.”
“You aren’t alone,” Harrington said before he could stop himself. “I don’t suppose I could see it?” he asked hopefully.
Cameron grinned. “It might be noticeable even here. Besides, we need you to—”
“Yes, yes, send a message. Which at this point will read something like, I saw some stills of what appears to be a crab ship, nothing else to report. Do I have that right? I’m sure that will receive immediate attention.”
“Sounds like he wants something
more,” Ennis commented, looking at Cameron with an enigmatic expression.
“So we give it to him,” she said.
They had planned this, he realized with astonishment. And they were enjoying it. They looked as satisfied as two wolves with a cornered rabbit. Well, at least he’d get to see the ship.
Cameron stood up. “Ready to leave? OK, wait here fifteen minutes or so after we go, then get your gear. Level Three, dock four ninety–two.”
He followed these instructions, chafing at the delay. At least he didn’t have much to pack—the only important item being his new high–capacity datapad. He found the dock without difficulty.
Cameron was waiting. “You see anybody else head for this hatch, yell,” she instructed the armed crewman who let him in. “Don’t take chances.”
The man nodded, and Cameron indicated Harrington should follow her.
“You are expecting trouble, Captain?”
She looked grim. “I’ve already had plenty this trip.” She went silent again. They were heading toward what should be the cargo area of the ship. Perhaps they had arranged extra bunk space there.
“How long will it take to get there?” Harrington asked.
A small smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “It’s at the end of this corridor.”
She was not taking him to the ship. The wave of bitter disappointment was followed by a surge of annoyance. “Then what was all that show about? I had been under the impression that—”
“We’ll bring the ship to you. It’s a long way away, in a place I don’t want to advertise. This is the other part of the message you need to deliver.” She stopped at a door with a security scan. It clicked open for her, and she stepped inside, where Ennis and another man were waiting. “You’ll understand we didn’t even want to talk about him out there.”
Harrington at first could make no sense of what he saw. They were in a furnished room, with a terminal, viewscreen, and a large display panel mounted next to a wide viewport. A viewport that showed another interior room on the other side, where a bulky, disturbing shape was…moving.
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