by Jaleta Clegg
“But what else can we do? The Patrol is our best option.”
“Why don’t we find this Eggstone and give it back? That sounds simpler to me.”
“How do we get Belliff to send us to a planet they don’t have an office on?”
“Why do they have to send us?”
“It’s their ship. You said so yourself. You wouldn’t break contract, would you?”
“Whose hide are you trying to save now?”
“You can’t just go where you want, Dace! You’ll get locked up for pirating or worse.”
“That’s better than getting killed by a giant lizard. You didn’t give me much choice. I’ll talk to the manager of Belliff on Viya. The worst they’ll do is void the contract and leave us stranded there, looking for work.”
“I’m sorry I ruined your reputation with Belliff.”
I was more than a little annoyed at his martyred attitude, as if his apologies could fix the mess he’d tangled me in. “It wasn’t much anyway. If I get hauled up on piracy charges, I’m taking you with me.”
His eyes went wide.
I gave him a nasty grin. Tried to, anyway. The numbness came back with a vengeance. The last thing I saw was the worried look on his face as I slid off the chair.
Jerimon was in the cockpit when I woke up again, finally clear-headed and back to my normal self. He glanced my way when he heard me, face twisted in guilt.
I deliberately turned my back. I didn’t want to hear his apologies. I slammed the door to the facilities shut.
I peeled the bandages off my shoulder when I showered. Several sets of pinkish scars crossed the skin. They puckered a bit and still itched but were just about healed. I felt almost normal after I dressed in the last of my clean suits. I shoved my feet into my boots and went to find food.
While the dispenser was cycling, I gathered up my clothes, loading them into the cleaner. I sat at the table and waited. The dispenser beeped.
Jerimon stayed in the cockpit, shoulders hunched.
The frozen, processed dinner tasted too bland so I found a salt shaker. The top layer of food was white before the food tasted right.
Jerimon slouched out of the cockpit, sitting across the tiny table. He gave me a very strange look when he saw my dinner swimming in salt.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked after a moment. He winced every time I scooped up a bite.
“Other than this strange craving for salt, I’m fine,” I said through a mouthful. “Where are we?”
“Almost to Viya.” He ran a hand through his short hair. The lights in the cabin picked out blue highlights. Dark circles marked his eyes. He was still vidstar-handsome.
I realized I was staring and shifted my gaze to my plate. The sight of the thick layer of salt suddenly made me want to gag. I pushed the tray into the disposal slot.
“Do you want me to take the ship in?” I asked. “No offense, but you look beat.”
“Are you well enough?”
“I’m fine.” I was, really. The dizziness was gone. Other than an irritating itch in my shoulder, I felt better than I had for several weeks.
The warning buzzer shrilled through the tiny cabin. Jerimon jumped, knocking the salt shaker to the floor.
“You look like the one who needs to be in bed,” I said as I stood. “Go on, I’ll take care of things.”
Jerimon’s face was a battlefield for warring emotions. Guilt won. “I’m sorry about getting you into this, Dace. If I’d known they would come after you, I never would have signed on. I really thought I’d shaken the Sessimoniss.” His eyes were meltingly contrite.
My heart beat faster as he gazed at me through long, dark lashes. A cynical little voice in my mind wondered if he had that effect on all the women he looked at that way.
The alarm chirped urgently. We were about to hit normal space and the ship wanted a warm body in the pilot’s chair. I slipped past him, into the cockpit.
Jerimon heaved a sigh as he climbed into his bunk.
I spent a very busy few minutes as the ship emerged from hyperspace, shutting down the hyperdrive and booting the sublight engine. Everything came up green. I glanced at the viewscreen. The shimmering light of a gas giant glowed not far away. I checked the beacons. According to the signal, Viya Station orbited the gas giant. I pulled on a headset, then cycled through the radio channels, listening to snatches of talk.
“Viya Station,” I said into the mike after I’d set the channel to official frequencies. “This is—” I hesitated. I just couldn’t bring myself to say the name of the ship. “This is a courier flight for Belliff, Inc., requesting docking instructions.”
“What is the name of your ship, Courier?” a male voice replied through a burst of static.
“Why does it matter? Belliff should have filed flight plans.”
“I’ve got seventeen of them here. Repeat, what is your ship name?”
I swallowed hard. “Twinkle.”
“Please repeat. I thought I heard Twinkle.”
“You did.” I waited through the inevitable snickering. “Just give me the docking codes.”
“Twinkle.” He said it as if he couldn’t believe it. “I got a ship named Twinkle here, Jerrie.”
“Yeah, tell it to Belliff,” I said. “Docking codes and a course, please?”
The proximity alarm shrilled. I muttered profanities as I shifted my ship away from the path of a huge ore tanker. “Can you stop laughing long enough to give me an approach path before I get smashed?”
“Viya Station, who is this unauthorized twit in our approach lane?” A new voice cut across the snickering.
“It’s Twinkle,” the man said, emphasizing the name of the ship. “Sorry, Brit. I’ll get her out of your way.”
“Give me the codes,” I said. Another freighter crept up behind me; I kept half an eye on the blip on my scope.
Numbers scrolled across the screen as Viya Station finally transmitted approach and docking codes. Space around the station was very crowded and busy. I cut in the autopilot and let it make sense of the twisted approach path. Another alarm went off. I was in the path of yet another tanker.
“Viya Station, this is Twinkle,” I snapped into the com as I shut off the autopilot and veered out of the way. “What kind of crap did you send me?”
“Twinkle, you’re deviating from your path.”
“Because there’s an ore tanker in the one you just sent.” I vowed to myself that I would hunt this jerk down and bloody his nose after we docked.
“You are in an unauthorized lane, Twinkle.”
“At least there aren’t any other ships in it. Check your equipment and give me a decent approach path.”
“If you don’t resume the approach pattern you were given, I’m going to have to fine you.”
“I’d rather be fined than dead. The approach pattern is full of somebody’s big tankers, Viya. Here, let me send you what my sensors are picking up.” I hit several buttons and pushed transmit.
There was a very long pause. I wondered how many tankers this jerk had smashed.
“Twinkle,” muffled snorts of laughter still echoed in his voice, “is your computer defective or are you counting on your fingers out there?”
“My computer checks out fine. What about yours? Or are you just eyeballing it out the window?”
“What is going on?” a new voice cut in. “Twinkle, why are you out of your assigned approach path?” This voice held no mirth. It was a steely, authoritative voice.
“Because I was given an approach path already in use,” I answered.
“It was perfectly valid,” the male voice from the station said. “Her computer’s off.”
They switched me out of the loop for a long moment. The gas giant grew in the viewscreen, a swirling ball of green and blue with long bands of white clouds. I could just see the sparkle of a thin set of rings tilting around the planet. The glittering speck of Viya Station drew closer. Swarms of huge tankers flitted like moths around a candle.
“Twinkle, this is Viya Station,” a very subdued voice said in my ear.
“This is Twinkle, go ahead.”
“Sending new approach course now.”
My computer beeped. I cautiously flipped on the autopilot.
“Viya Station, course appears clear.”
There wasn’t an answer. I didn’t expect one. I leaned back and watched the station grow. The autopilot dodged and swerved a few times, but nothing like the original course I’d been given. I kept a close eye on the proximity alarm, though. The scope held an awful lot of blips. Out of curiosity, I tapped a few of them to get the ID signals. I was surprised to find quite a few were Patrol ships, cruisers swimming among the tankers. I wondered why there would be so many; something big must be happening on Viya. Nothing to do with me, I told myself firmly.
The autopilot beeped as it entered the final approach. Viya Station loomed over us, a gaping mouth open in its side, ready to receive the tiny ship. I hit the buttons allowing the station to take control. There was a brief moment of silence before the clank of docking arms locking around the ship echoed through the small cabin.
Chapter Three
Jerimon was sound asleep when I crossed the cabin to the airlock. I paused a moment with my hand hovering over the controls. He looked a lot younger asleep, more vulnerable. His long, dark lashes helped. He was too good looking. I hit the button to open the lock, disgusted with myself. Jerimon had gotten me in deep trouble. The scars on my shoulder were his fault. I should be angry with him. Why did I suddenly have the desire to find out what kissing him would be like?
The door of the lock hissed shut behind me. I waited for the outer door to open. I’d only been kissed once in my life. I wanted to try kissing again under different circumstances, when I wasn’t within moments of being shot and the man kissing me wasn’t bleeding to death. The lights flickered green and I tried to shove all thoughts of kissing away. I didn’t need the distraction. The outer door slid open letting in the noise and bustle of the docking bay.
Dock hands swarmed through the huge area, tending to the streams of cargo being loaded and unloaded. I stepped confidently into the organized chaos. The entrance to the main station lay just beyond. Belliff’s offices couldn’t be too far away.
“Hey!” a voice called from behind me. “From the Twinkle.”
Fortunately no one was close enough to overhear, or I might have committed an act of violence.
A man with a clipboard stopped a few steps away. “Dace? Don’t tell me the best you could do was crew for a courier ship called Twinkle?”
The man wore his hair so short he may as well have been bald, no clue there. His grin was slightly familiar. It faded somewhat as I studied him.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your old classmate,” he said.
Things clicked finally. “Darl, it’s been too long. Don’t tell me the best you could do was a dock flunkie?” We’d been in several classes together at the Academy.
“Dock supervisor,” he corrected me. “Quite respectable and definitely well paid. Is the captain on board? I’ve got papers that need signed.”
My grin turned brittle. “I’m the captain.”
“I thought you were going to get your own ship, be an independent. Why are you flying courier for a shady outfit like Belliff?”
“I had my own ship until my idiot crew blew it up.” I held out my hand for the clipboard. “What am I supposed to sign?”
“Docking fees, things like that.” Darl handed me the clipboard. “You’re really the captain of a ship named Twinkle? They couldn’t stop laughing about that in the tower.”
“I know. I got to listen to it over the headset all the way in.” I flipped through the papers and frowned. “Belliff is supposed to pay these.”
“I just need somebody’s signature on them, guaranteeing payment. Belliff sent me to you.”
“It’s in their contract. I’m not signing.”
“You want some advice, Dace? Cut loose from Belliff.”
“I don’t want a breach of contract on my record.”
“That’s a lot better than you’ll get if you stay with them much longer. I heard rumors in the bars that the Patrol is investigating them.”
I handed the clipboard back, papers unsigned.
He pulled a face. “Now I’ve got to go clear across the station again to argue with them.”
“I’ll go with you. I have to pick a fight with management anyway over a stupid name.”
We started across the busy dock.
“How long have you been flying for them?” Darl asked.
“A couple of weeks.” I stepped around a freight tug. “How long have you been working here?”
“Three months now. I got a promotion when I transferred.”
We skirted a stack of crates and came in sight of a ship strung up in the repair facilities. Huge scorch marks blackened the sides. One whole end of it was twisted and half-melted. I could just make out the name on the side. I had seen that name recently, in Jerimon’s file. The Venturer had been the ship he transferred from originally. My stomach twisted as I realized what must have happened to it.
Darl nodded at the wreckage. “Came in three weeks ago, limped in actually. Wasn’t pirates though. They swore it was a bunch of xenos called Sessimoniss. Nobody really knows why they would shoot up the ship. The captain insisted he had no idea why they attacked him. He claims they’d been harassing him for several weeks.”
I shivered. I had a very good idea why the Sessimoniss were messing with his ship.
We reached the shuttle pods that took people to various points in the station. We stepped inside the first one. Darl took a card from his pocket.
“Privileges,” he said, grinning. He slid it into a slot and punched a series of codes. “We got priority now.” He settled into one of the seats.
I sat across from him as the pod accelerated.
I kept half an eye out the window as we talked, mostly small talk about the Academy. Viya Station was huge and most definitely industrial. Its walkways had none of the glittering displays the leisure stations boasted. The major design element was steel girders.
Belliff’s offices were in a side corridor. The floor was dingy tile, spotted with some unnamable substance that glowed faintly orange in the yellow utility lights. The door had a frosted glass pane with the name painted in dull black. Everything was low-key, nothing to hint that Viya was one of Belliff’s head offices. I pushed the door open then entered, Darl on my heels.
A young man, barely out of adolescence, sat behind a desk, staring at a vid screen on the wall. He wore a tag that said his name was Burt. The desk blocked access to the three doors behind it. Burt’s pale eyes flicked over us then back to the vid screen.
I took Darl’s clipboard out of his hand then slammed it on the desk.
Burt jumped. “What do you want?” His eyes stayed glued to the vid screen. A vapid smile crept over his face.
“I want to talk to someone intelligent,” I almost said. Good manners won. “I have a delivery from Tebros. I need some signatures for it.”
“Then you’ll have to talk to Liyatte. She isn’t here.” Burt’s attention barely flickered from his program while he talked.
“Then who is here that I can talk to?” I leaned over the desk to block his view.
Burt shifted in his chair, shooting an annoyed glance at me. “Don’t know.”
I sat on the desk, planting myself squarely in front of the vid screen. “I’m not moving until you do know.”
“Burt,” Darl spoke for the first time, “you really don’t want to get her angry. Can you go find someone for her to talk to?”
“I’m missing my show.” Burt squirmed in the chair.
“How would you like to miss a few teeth?” I leaned closer. The office gave me the creeps. It was too quiet, especially considering Darl’s gossipy tidbits about a Patrol investigation. My survival instincts said this wasn’t a good place to be right now.
“Should I just go find my own person to talk to?”
“Nobody’s here,” Burt made vague shooing motions with his hands.
“What’s the problem? Burt?”
The man standing in the office doorway could have been Burt twenty years in the future. He was thin with the same watery look Burt had.
“She’s in my way, wants to talk to Liyatte about something.”
I stood, letting Burt have the full view of his screen again.
The older man frowned. “There isn’t anyone here right now. You’ll have to come back.” He turned to go.
“I’ve got a delivery from Tebros. I need signatures before I can release it to you.”
The man stopped as if I’d shot him. He edged slowly towards his office. “A delivery here? Now?” He swallowed, his face suddenly pale.
“And there is the slight matter of docking fees,” Darl put in. He was just as suspicious as I was. Something was definitely wrong in Belliff’s offices. “Where is everyone?” he asked, as casually as he could while he held out the clipboard.
“Management seminar or something.” The man scrawled his name across the papers and handed them back.
Darl took the clipboard. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said to me as he pulled the door open.
“You have a delivery?” the man said, dragging my attention back to him. He pasted a smile across his face and held his hand out. “I’m sorry I don’t recognize you. Are you new?”
I ignored his hand. The guy made me nervous. “I’m Dace, captain of the Twinkle and I really want to complain about the name.”
“It’s just a name,” he said, with the utter lack of understanding that labeled him a total grounder. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Every word said it was not a pleasure, it was a horrible occasion, but he was being polite. He looked at his hand as if suddenly realizing it was attached to his arm and pushed it into a pocket. “Now, again, how can I help you? I’m Leon Gravis, Liyatte’s personal secretary.”
“There’s a little matter of payment and arrangements for delivery of the cargo.” I backed towards the door. Something was definitely very wrong.
“Let me come to your ship with you,” Leon said. “Just let me get the paperwork and I’ll be right there.”
