Supergiant (Gigaparsec Book 2)

by Scott Rhine

  She stuffed the baggies into his chilled suitcase of high-value samples. “God helps those who help themselves.”

  Max smiled. “My grandfather would counter with ‘the lilies of the field do not toil or spin, but Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed in such as these.’”

  Roz clicked the case shut. “Yeah, where I come from, we know someone had to plant, water, weed, and fertilize those lilies. Takes a lot of horse manure to look that nice.”

  “Pretty much my opinion of politics,” he replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Even defensive and angry, she smiled.

  Chapter 7 – Guild and Wergild

  The mining complex at Mount Cornwallis employed the bulk of the stone and gem artisans interested in the Eden geodes. Tuesday morning, Roz slept in to nearly seven, well past her usual exercise regimen time. She had Max drive until they reached the first sign of civilization and then took over for him. Inside the sprawling city, he used the satellite device to give her directions to each customer on her list. She also taught Max the proper use of horn honking and shouts to encourage movement in others. They lifted cargo off the back together so he wouldn’t hurt his back again. Only a few crates remained by late afternoon, so they celebrated with lunch at Le Viande Braisé, which loosely translated as lightly charred cow. She was ready for a thick slab of rare beast.

  While they waited for a table, Max bought her a cherry soda with the ship’s credit voucher linked to the orbital bank. The novelty of a man buying her a drink delighted her more than the soda itself.

  Max kept the sample suitcase by his leg. He didn’t want someone smashing the rental’s windows to steal something so valuable.

  “We’ll check into our hotel after this,” she promised. “Every inch of me is drenched in sweat. I had to take off my bra in the bathroom. Feels good to get out of that thing.”

  He choked on his beer, a local brew that came highly recommended.

  “Problem?” Roz asked.

  “No,” he wheezed. “Just stronger than I thought.”

  Max showed their wares and passed out cards for the wine auction to several well-heeled diners and the sommelier. When the woman at the desk called their names, two burly men escorted them out the side door by the dumpsters.

  “You can’t refuse to serve us just because we’re nulls,” Roz said. “We have rights.”

  “We can refuse oligarchy spies,” said one of the bouncers. They both had long, thin mustaches and looked enough alike to be brothers.

  I know local guild members hate the oligarchy, but why would they think we work for those jerks? Roz shook her fist. “You take that back. I earned a scholarship from the Mercy Llewellyn Foundation, and even though it wasn’t my first choice of assignment, I worked like a dog to make chief engineer on Eden. I haven’t been a corporate lapdog a day in my life!”

  Gripping the metal suitcase like a weapon, Max leaned close to the nearest man. “I’d do what she says. I’ve seen her take out three guys your size.”

  If it came to fisticuffs, she didn’t want to see him get hurt or endanger the five thousand credits worth of wine. This was the time for levelheaded diplomacy. “Max, stay out of this. I’ve got it.”

  The bouncers glanced at each other, considering the boast.

  The head waiter in a white tuxedo emerged soon after to clear up matters. “Blue Claw Industries has a lien on your ship. Their clan signed an exclusive trade agreement with Lunar Oligarchy vessels.”

  Roz shook her head. “Impossible. All the Blue Claw Saurians left the ship at the last stop. That’s why the captain had to hire me as a pilot.”

  The waiter shrugged. “As long as your ship is in a hostile relationship, businessmen who belong to the guild won’t deal with you.”

  Max snapped his fingers. “The wergild. Six members of their clan died on Eden. They must want to be paid a death benefit in restitution.”

  “But they all died of natural causes in the preserve,” Roz said. “They signed waivers.”

  “Right. A simple mistake,” Max insisted.

  The head waiter held up both arms and turned away. “Out of my hands.”

  Roz said, “We have to eat.”

  “There is a soup kitchen at the church next door, corporate dog,” said the waiter.

  Shrieking, Roz reached into the trash to grab a roll slathered in red sauce. She threw it at the man’s back, forming a red splotch on his immaculate suit.

  Livid, the waiter examined the damage and strode up to Max. “Since you cannot control your woman, I demand satisfaction.”

  “Calm down,” Max said. “I’m sure she’ll be willing to apologize, and I’ll pay for the cleaning.”

  Turning toward Roz, the waiter asked, “Is there something Miss Mind-Mute would like to say?”

  She sniffed her sauce-coated fingers. “Your red sauce is ham-fisted, using garlic like a sledgehammer. I’m glad you spared me the meal. All I need now is a towel.” She wiped her fingers off on his lapels.

  “Now I will see this whore wash the stain out with my own eyes,” said the waiter. To punctuate the insult, he poked her in the breast hard enough to leave a bruise.

  Every other man in the area winced as Roz kicked him in the groin so hard he hit the wall and collapsed. “Any other takers?”

  The brothers stared at the doubled-over waiter, groaning in sympathy. Evidently, the jerk was broadcasting pain through the Collective Unconscious. Sometimes being a null is an advantage. I could take out another thug before they react.

  “Run,” Max said, reminding her of his training sessions.

  She followed him, mere paces ahead of the muscle brothers, hitting the remote Start and Unlock buttons on her key. However, when she reached the buggy, the rear tires were flat, preventing them from fleeing.

  Max held up both hands in surrender.

  When the police arrived, both Roz and the waiter were arrested for assault.

  ****

  Max met with Roz in a room with a single guard and a table between their chairs. She had calmed down in the hours between. “When are you going to spring me?”

  “It’s complicated,” he replied.

  Her mood improved further when Max gave her the bag of leftovers. She barely slowed to say, “Told you we’d need them,” before devouring the pancakes.

  “Union law enforcement takes any act of violence very seriously,” Max said. “Hell, the doctor who examined me asked if I felt safe around you or if you beat me.”

  She stopped chewing to grin. “What did you tell them?”

  “You’re a little quirky and bossy but, other than that, a perfect partner.”

  “Aw.”

  “This isn’t easy to make go away. Things have escalated. The locals ran your name through the system and found the vehicular assault and theft charges in Eden. The rental company repossessed our buggy. We’ll have to take the train back to the spaceport,” Max whispered. When she started to react, he held up a hand. “Don’t worry about the deliveries. I mailed the rest of the crates. Shipping didn’t amount to much more than the rental and hotels would have.”

  Roz pouted. “How will we find a chef?”

  “That mission has been canceled. When the rental agency found minor damage to the buggy’s front end, they started looking for people you might have run over. They think you’re a serial killer.”

  She giggled. “We did run over cereal grains.” Max had swerved off the road into a wheat field.

  “I explained that you leaned over my lap when I was driving and caused me to lose control.” The guard grinned and turned away. She started to object, and Max switched to Banker so the guard wouldn’t understand. “Don’t correct me. If they find out I didn’t have a license to operate that vehicle, I’ll end up in the cell next to yours.”

  “Have Reuben hack their database like he wanted to before.”

  “He can’t hack a paper trail. These guys aren’t advanced enough out here for computers. Once it’s in writing, they don�
�t forget. Assault means psychological assessment and months of rehab.”

  Roz glanced down at the empty food bag on the tabletop. “I’m sorry. The added docking and legal fees would blow the profits for this leg of the journey for everyone.”

  Max shook his head. “They have worse problems than that upstairs.”

  “Like what. I know my way around station politics.”

  He refused to elaborate. “As I see it, you have three options. I’ll start with the easiest. The arresting officer likes your dolphin pin. He’s willing to lose his report if you give it to him.”

  She clutched the bravery medal. “Absolutely not.”

  “It’s just a silly piece of metal.”

  “You gave this to me, and … I’m not going to give it up to some corrupt civil servant.”

  “I was afraid of that. The judge is willing to waive the disturbing-the-peace charge if you volunteer for community service for a day side-by-side with the man you fought. It would demonstrate repentance and the ability to work toward the good of the community. I’ve spoken with Alphonse. After I paid his cleaning bill, he’s willing to drop the charges if you drop yours and apologize to the chef of Le Viande.”

  “The man is an unmitigated prick,” Roz said, her voice escalating.

  Max put out his hands and switched back to English to ease the guard who was about to intervene. “Relax. The chef is his boyfriend. He takes criticism very personally. You’d have your freedom, and our company just has to post an obscenely large bond ensuring your behavior until we leave the planet.”

  “Hmph. We’ll see. What’s the last option?”

  Clearing his throat, Max muttered, “Diminished capacity.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “As your doctor, I could swear that the damage to your brain leaves you unsuited for social situations. The charges would be dropped, but the label would go on your permanent record. You’d need to be accompanied by a minder wherever you went.”

  The possibility turned her veins to ice. When she could speak again, she said, “I think I’d rather go to trial. If I’m lucky, the women on the jury will acquit me.”

  He shook his head again. “We can’t let that happen.”

  “Why not?”

  Glancing at the guard, he said in Banker. “To confirm identity, DNA tests are taken along with fingerprints when you’re booked. Theoretically, if they decided you were an active with a psi talent, the penalty would be much harsher, including shock therapy or worse.”

  “But I’m not.”

  He silenced her with his stare.

  She blinked. “How could I be?”

  “They might record these sessions,” he said flatly. “You need to trust me for now.”

  “I do.” On reflection, she realized how deep that trust went. None of the options appealed to her. When the guard tapped his pocket watch, she felt panic. “What do you think I should do?”

  “Apologize and clean graffiti. No doubt the waiter was an ass, but pelting him with garbage? Maybe some contemplation time can reduce the size of that chip on your shoulder. Next time, the person pushing your buttons could have a blaster.”

  Roz wanted to explain and defend her actions, but he was willing to risk his ship to free her. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”

  He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  The anger and new questions buzzed inside her as she returned to her cell. Am I really that much of a hot head?

  ****

  When Max escorted Roz back to the hotel, she almost burst from the questions. The room was Spartan, with two twin beds and a private bathroom. As he pushed her toward the bath, he handed her a special bar of soap and a white plastic trash bag. “They’ve had some problems with lice in the jail. Put all your clothes in there.”

  Certain she could feel all manner of creatures crawling on her, she agreed. After the bug soap, she washed again with lavender shampoo. The soak in hot water was wonderful. In fact, she escaped for so long that Max tapped on the door. “You okay?”

  “Problems are waiting for me out there.”

  “So are answers.”

  With a sigh, she drained the tub, dried off, and pulled on the oversized, fluffy hotel robe. When she walked out, she absently stroked the fabric. “This is so soft.”

  He sat on his bed and gestured for her to take a seat next to him on the bed where her suitcase rested. “Your clothes will be back from the cleaners tomorrow morning. I didn’t want to take any liberties with your other belongings.”

  She brushed her hair until it shined, reveling in the sensation of being clean.

  “Alphonse’s boyfriend will see you tonight,” he said. “Your community service starts tomorrow at noon.”

  She caught him peeking at her exposed shoulder, neck, and calves. She paused to consider the remote possibility that he might be attracted to her. She felt a sense of power and excitement akin to taking a new ship out for the first time. “An-any advice?”

  “Stop assuming people are thinking the worst of you. To do that, you need to accept that others see you as accomplished, capable, and beautiful. Your injury doesn’t define you.”

  His words poured over her like the warm water had. The word “beautiful” thrilled her. She wanted to hug him, thank him, and … oh, crap. She could do all that and more. Her breathing sped up. She was sitting in a hotel room, nearly naked, next to a man whom she liked. Her body tightened like a wire … with electricity running through.

  He babbled on about the plight of the ship. The lien with the Blue Claws would take at least eight days to resolve via the ansible. Meanwhile, the farming guild filed a lawsuit preventing The Inner Eye from selling grain to foreign merchants. Kesh switched to selling the grain as robust non-genetically modified seed to the local farmers, but that too had been blocked. As she picked out clean clothes, Max’s eyes fixated on her behind. She took her time choosing in order to confirm his interest. Now Kesh was trying to sell the grain through a loophole as pig food. Blah, blah, blah.

  “Everything still good?” Max asked at her absent expression.

  “Mmm,” Roz said noncommittally. Should she let the robe drop? She hadn’t been able to do that in front of Echo, a neutral. She could already hear the disapproval of her parents at sharing the room unchaperoned. Her list for confession was growing uncomfortably long. If she threw herself at Max even for a kiss and he refused, their relationship would be damaged forever. Roz idly considered what her friend Ivy would do in this situation. Hell, Ivy would use cuffs and whipped cream. Roz had never experienced sex. When she did, she wanted to savor it slowly and respect herself the next morning. He had to commit to her first, even if she was a boring scoop of vanilla ice cream. Still, she gazed at his skin and fantasized about honey mixed with chocolate syrup.

  “What was that about ice cream?”

  Roz had been mumbling out loud, the way she did when working out a difficult repair. Paralyzed with embarrassment, she could find no way to explain the comment. She wanted to crawl under the bed and hide.

  Then Max slapped his forehead. “You’re right. The milk at Just Desserts is already marked for export. We already have the cold storage space because we’re conserving energy. The farmers are about to choke the milk supply to corporate worlds. If we buy old Herb out on the sly, we can name our price on Phoenix.”

  “Yeah,” she said weakly.

  He kissed her on the forehead, and she stopped breathing. “You’re a genius. I’ll go up to the roof to tell the others on my comm link.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t worry. It uses military encryption. No one will eavesdrop. We just need incentive for Herb to keep quiet about the deal.”

  She had to break out of this daze. How long did she have to meet and apologize to the head chef of Le Viande? All she could squeak out was, “Chef?”

  He snapped his fingers. “You’re right. We can offer the ship’s cook position to Herb’s wife. Perfect.” He planted another
kiss on her, this time on her cheek.

  She closed her eyes and melted, nearly fainting back to the bed.

  Max backed off. “S-sorry. I just got excited. I’ll be right back.”

  “Mmm,” she said, unable to move.

  Later, Roz was indescribably mellow and floating on happiness when she spoke to the chef. She complimented his immaculate kitchen and apologized for criticizing his cuisine simply by smelling his garbage. By the time they were finished, she and Max were treated to dinner so they could tell everyone how good Le Viande really was. This was the romantic date she had been waiting for.

  Max leaned over to her. “See, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

  All she could reply was, “Mmm. Honey.”

  Chapter 8 – Probability Mechanics

  Wednesday afternoon, Roz returned to the safety of The Inner Eye. Her first visit was to the jungle room. She brought a set of colorful, carved wooden blocks for the little one to play with. Instead of focusing on the gift, Jeeves threw himself into her arms and squeaked, “Mee-mee,” which was the closest he could achieve to Mommy.

  The added joy was enough to push even her stoic nature over the edge, and for the first time in many years, she cried.

  The mimic had grown so much since they met that he looked like a fuzzy sweater vest draped over her. Once Roz smuggled Jeeves safely back to her bedroom, she inspected the ship repairs from outside to inside in a cloud of bliss. Her two favorite males loved her or were heading that way.

  Reuben and the two repairmen followed her as she circled each violation in red marker. At a touch of her wrist unit, Roz recorded her observations for entry into the ship’s log. As she indicated a jagged weld which could snag suits, Reuben asked, “Did you get a new hairdo or something? You look … different.”

  Grady nodded. “Sort of healthier.”

  “I had a lovely delousing after my prison stay for a suspected killing spree.”

  Specialist Bertram backed away a step.

  Reuben shook his head. “No, that’s not it.”

  After examining the new control couplings on the bridge, Roz reviewed the security recordings. She thought herself very kind when she dismissed Bertram with, “I’ll have to redo a quarter of your hack jobs. Even that I could have lived with, but you used an electric socket-wrench next to a fuel tank valve. A tiny leak and a spark could have ended us all.”