by Sharon Lee
It was flight orders, all right. Someplace called Ploster—a delivery.
She frowned, wondering what it was she had to deliver, then laughed at herself.
“Just picked up a package or two, didn’t you, Theo?”
She looked at the screen again, this time paying attention to the particulars. Pulling up the comp program and the map, she did the math, rough, then refined it, to be sure.
Not a paid vacation, like the trip to Gondola, but not a screaming emergency, like her initial run to Liad. She’d have some solid Jump time for reviewing the books she’d bought.
She sent the request to Tower for a Lift Anytime, got the ack on the bounce for a slot three Standard Hours out. Good. Time for that shower, and a nice meal, here in-ship, before she got to work.
Three hours from now, she’d be lifting, leaving Gondola and its oddities behind her.
That was good, too.
Theo smiled, rose, danced a short, bright dance, and headed for the ’fresher.
- - - - -
During their last days on Liad, the so-called “informal parlor” had been the clan’s war room, and it was there that they gathered after dinner. Miri settled into the red leather chair that had become her favorite, Val Con perched on the arm at her right, waiting.
They were quiet-moving, the family, and gracefully deliberate—which Miri’d learned was pilot’s sign. In no time at all they were disposed on various sofas, hassocks, and chairs, their faces attentive.
Val Con inclined his head, by way of bringing the meeting to order, and started right in with the first order of business.
“Jeeves reports that the house defense systems are online and armed,” he said. “While we of course no longer have the additional benefit of the planetary defense net, we are reasonably secure. I therefore propose that we bring Korval’s treasures home.”
“Korval’s treasures.” Those were the children, sent away to a remote safeplace when first Plan B had gone into effect, guarded by the two eldest of the clan.
“I agree.” That was Pat Rin, who had the most at stake, since not only was his boy among those self-same treasurers, but the guardians were his mother and his foster-father.
“Better here than there,” Shan said, not exactly risk-free himself. Four treasures belonged to Line yos’Galan—two of them babes in arms. “With so many hunting.”
That was the problem. The Department of the Interior, the headquarters of which Korval had destroyed—which act of heroism had gotten them thrown off-world—wasn’t so much annihilated as headless. A far-flung net of operatives still sat their posts and held to their last-received orders. There were folks working on that—notably the Scouts, who felt that what happened at Nev’Lorn reason enough—but that didn’t change the fact that there were a good number of dangerous people out there in the wide galaxy who held a considerable grudge against Korval.
While there was a risk in giving them a big pile of Korval to come after, there was also safety in numbers—and a certain advantage to being on the ground.
“It is settled then,” Val Con said. “The children come home. Who goes?”
“I do,” Pat Rin said, and his lifemate not a syllable behind him, “I, too.”
That was putting two important eggs into one chancy basket, Miri thought, then thought again. Whoever went, it ought to be somebody familiar to elders and younglings—and the fact was, if it came to backup, Pat Rin had more than anyone else in the room.
Pat Rin met her eyes, as if he had heard her initial concern, and smiled.
“I wish to take my mother news of my lifemating as soon as may be,” he said. “All according to Code.”
That was an in-joke—Miri’d gathered Pat Rin’s mother was a stickler—and got a ripple of laughter from the room.
“Your call, Boss,” she said, and gave him his smile back.
“While the delm’s attention is on me,” Pat Rin continued, “I would like to make a request for assistance. My office is overwhelmingly busy, and while the arrival of Mr. pel’Tolian has improved matters a dozen times, I am in need of an assistant—someone who looks with a long eye, and is not subject to intimidation . . .”
“If the delm pleases,” Nova rose from her chair near the window, “I am able to assist.”
She could, too. Nova’d managed Clan Korval as temp delm for years; Surebleak would hardly be a challenge.
“Good idea,” Miri said, feeling Val Con’s accord. “Work out the details with Pat Rin. In the meantime, Boss, talk to Ms. dea’Gauss. Right before we left, she was telling me about a youngster of theirs who’s in need of a project to keep him out of trouble.”
“I will do that,” Pat Rin said, and bowed his head, going all formal to tweak her. “I thank the delm.”
“Any time,” Miri told him.
“Next order of business,” Val Con said. “The Road is in—let us say that the Road is in very great need of repair. As Korval’s contract requires us to keep it open, it is to our best benefit to bring it into—”
The parlor door opened.
“Your pardon.” Mr. pel’Kana bowed. “This gentleman offered a word of the House; old, yet—”
A shadow moved, walking light and easy, hands held specifically away from a tough trim body. Miri registered grey hair, leather, and ice blue eyes before Val Con was on his feet and between her and the old pilot.
Natesa was up, too, her hands flashing in pilot-talk—truce—even while she sang out, “I vouch!”
Another voice came in under hers, deep and calm.
“Clarence.”
Daav walked forward from his place at the back of the room. The stranger stopped, holding his hands out chest-high, fingers wide, showing himself no threat—which Miri thought he wasn’t, not here and now.
“I’m retired,” he said, like it was the next line in an old, old argument.
Daav smiled and extended his hands, palms up. “I was going to say—welcome.”
“Were ye now?” Clarence put his palms against Daav’s, fingers ’round his wrists. “You’re looking fine, laddie; and a sight for tired eyes.”
“Flatterer.” Daav’s voice was gentle. Dangerous he might be, but Daav valued this man. Val Con—didn’t. Matter of fact, Val Con was on the edge of pushing a point, if she was getting the signal clear—and that wasn’t going to do at all.
She stepped up to his side, and caught Daav’s eye.
“Ah.” He stepped back, letting go of his friend’s hands. “Clarence, have you met my children?”
The cool blue gaze brushed Miri’s face, then Val Con’s. She got the impression that Clarence was amused.
“Met your boy, o’ course.” Clarence nodded, cordial as you’d like. “Good to see you again, Pilot.”
“Pilot O’Berin,” Val Con answered, stiff.
There was a pause, getting too long, with the whole family waiting to see how this was going to play. Miri went half a step forward, and stuck her hand out.
“Miri Robertson, half a delm.”
Clarence O’Berin smiled, which did interesting things to his face, and met her hand. His was hard and warm, calloused where a man who handled a gun as a daily exercise would have callouses.
“Missus. It’s pleased I am to meet you.” The lilt hadn’t been so pronounced a heartbeat before. Miri figured she was being charmed, and gave him a grin to show she appreciated his effort.
“Pilot O’Berin,” Val Con said. “Is there a reason why you have come to us?”
“In fact, there is,” Clarence said, letting Miri’s hand go, and turning to face her lifemate. “Thing is, I hadn’t meant to intrude on a family party. I can come back later, if it’s allowed, or meet someone down port.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Like old times.”
“Perhaps that would be—”
“Rude,” Miri interrupted, and looked up at him, widening her eyes innocently. “Be a shame to send the man away when he’s come so far to talk to us—and up bad road, too,” she said, resisting
an urge to stamp on his foot. “We got room to put up a friend of Daav’s for the night.”
Val Con’s mouth tightened, but he bowed his head. Taking it, but not liking it.
“As you have noticed,” he said to Clarence, “we are in process here. Please allow Mr. pel’Kana to escort you to a guesting room, and do not hesitate to call upon the House for anything you might find needful.”
It was well said, Miri thought, but it cost him. And unless she was misreading him something bad, there was gonna be some more things said, when they were alone. That was fine; she had a couple points of discussion, herself.
“Let me see you safely into the hands of our butler,” Daav said smoothly, taking his friend’s elbow and turning him toward the door. “We’ll talk, later.”
The door closed behind them, and Miri felt the tension in the room plummet.
She took a breath and grinned up at Val Con, who shook his head, and murmured, for her ears alone, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
THIRTEEN
Jelaza Kazone
Surebleak
“Miri, do you know who Clarence O’Berin is?”
Val Con’s voice was a little sharper than natural curiosity might allow for. Miri finished belting her made-new-for-Surebleak fleece robe around her before she looked over to where he leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Sure I do,” she said, keeping her voice mild. “He’s a friend of Daav’s. Looked real happy to see each other, didn’t they?”
Val Con sighed.
“Clarence O’Berin,” he said, still sharper than was strictly welcome in the bedroom, “is the Juntavas Boss on Liad.”
Well, that explained the degree of his upset, anyhow. Korval had a long history of avoiding that particular galaxy-spanning organization of high and low crime. Until Pat Rin went and married himself a Judge, that was. But still . . .
“No, he ain’t,” she said.
She sat down at the dressing table, and reached up to unpin her braid. In the mirror, she saw Val Con frown. “Man said he was retired—you heard him.”
“Miri—”
“Not only that,” she interrupted. “Natesa vouched for him—damn near threw herself in front of him, didn’t she?” She lifted her chin, meeting his reflected glare. “Speaking of which, you’re developing a bad habit.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Am I, indeed?”
From sharp to hard polite in one sentence. Way to manage it, Robertson.
Well-managed or not, she’d taken her first shot. Now all she had to do was win the battle.
“Yeah, you are,” she said, pulling the braid over her shoulder and beginning to unweave it. “I figure we better fix it now, while it’s still fresh, better’n let it set.”
She took a breath, and rapped out, hard and fast, “Since when do you need to get between me and what might have teeth?”
“I have a certain obligation, I think, to my lifemate and to my heir.”
The ambient temperature was falling fast. She could feel the gnaw of his worry just as vivid as if it was hers. Funny thing being, she wasn’t worried about one Clarence O’Berin, retired Juntavas Boss, sleeping under the same roof with all the kinfolk. Stood to reason that a man that dangerous was housebroken.
And there was more than one dangerous person asleep or awake at Jelaza Kazone this evening—including the man presently a little out of temper with her.
Miri summoned a frown of her own.
“Think again,” she told him. “And while you’re thinking, let me rephrase that question—since when do you need to get between me and anything? We’re partners—or we were, up until real recent. What changed when we came down to Surebleak, that you gotta cover for us both? If I’m giving you cause for worry, partner, sing out. In the meanwhile, I’ll just ask which one of us gave the other one an Yxtrang—and didn’t think there was a problem about that?”
That last one—that was a foul. Necessity’d been, and Val Con had only done what he had to, to move a man out of a life that was killing him, and give him a chance at another one.
Across the room, she felt him shiver. He closed his eyes and didn’t say anything.
Dammit, Robertson, when you gonna learn?
She got up and went over to him, reaching up to stroke the hair off his forehead.
“And was right?” she murmured. “You got my back, I got yours—that’s an even proposition and it ain’t changing.”
She laughed softly and leaned against him. After a couple breaths, his arms came ’round her and pulled her in close.
“Might be the only thing that’s not changing,” she continued, closing her eyes, and nestling her cheek against his shoulder. “Juntavas is changing; Scouts are; Liad’s got changes coming it ain’t even thought of yet, not to mention Surebleak, which didn’t ask for none of it.”
“Collateral damage,” Val Con murmured.
Miri moved her head. “Innocent bystanders. And us—we already changed—the two of us and both together—and now we gotta change some more.”
“Must we?” he asked, and she felt him put his cheek against her hair.
“I can’t see any way out of it, if we’re gonna do what we said we’d do. Right up front, we’re gonna hafta stop thinking that surviving ’til lunchtime is a long-term plan.”
He laughed, softly. “Until dinner, then?”
“It’s a start,” she said. “Little steps, just at first. ’Til we get used to the idea.”
He didn’t say anything, but she caught the gleam of the Rainbow out of the corner of her thought, like a shadow seen on the edge of the eye, and felt him relax out of his snit.
“So,” she murmured, “Daav’ll talk to Clarence, like he said, and if it’s something we need to hear, we’ll hear it, and if not, not. You might not’ve noticed, but your father isn’t exactly a dummy.”
She felt the laugh shiver through him.
“I had noticed something of the sort,” he murmured.
“So you’re not a dummy, too. Must run in the family. Now, I need you to do something.”
Val Con lifted his head and looked down at her, green eyes glinting amusement.
“And what is that?”
“Kiss me.”
- - - - -
Tag and follow.
Osa pel’Naria, pilot-operative, touched her screen and was very soon in possession of all available facts regarding a vessel long of interest to the Department, lately seen at Gondola.
She leaned to the board, opened an underband, entered a code, and was in contact with the tracking device.
In Jump; destination filed at last port—Ploster.
Well enough; there was assistance on Ploster, should she require it.
Would she require it—that was the question.
She tapped the screen for more information on the pilot—one Theo Waitley, new-made First Class.
Pilot-operative pel’Naria smiled.
- - - - -
“Remarried?” Clarence laughed deep in his chest and shook his head. “Not me, laddie.” He sipped, giving the wine its due, and Daav did the same. They were in the chamber that had been given to the guest’s use; two old men talking over their wine, catching up on twenty Standards.
“And yourself?” Clarence murmured.
Daav lowered his glass, questing gently. Clarence had been a favorite of Aelliana’s; it seemed . . . unlike her not to come forward to greet him. Yet to his senses, she was absent. Entirely absent.
“In fact, I entered into an arrangement, which supported me for many years,” he said. “From that alliance comes a daughter, newly possessed of a jacket, and with a courier contract in hand.”
“No worries there,” Clarence observed dryly.
Daav laughed.
“Well . . .” The other man shook his head. “I’m thinking you had the right of it, there—and no disrespect to her memory. It does something to you, being your own and only best friend. I’m on the way to d
eciding that it’s nothing good.”
He sipped his wine, and gave Daav a smile that was not . . . wholly convincing.
“So, tell me about this daughter of yours.”
“She’s had a slower start of it than she might have, had she come to the clan at birth, but it’s my opinion that she’ll be a pilot to behold.” Daav sipped his wine and produced a smile of his own. “That may, of course, merely be the doting father speaking. Val Con gives it as his opinion that she is too timid to be of the Line.”
“Who to know better?” the other man asked, though with an air of not requiring an answer. He gave Daav a glance from blue eyes. “The boy learned his ways from his foster-da. We were cordial, the few times we met to do business, but he had the difference in our stations at the front of his head when we did.” He grinned. “Herself keeps him on mark, does she?”
“I believe she considers it a lifework. She may be correct; even for one as well-credentialed as she.”
“Merc captain is what I read,” Clarence murmured, “brought a brace o’ Yxtrang into service with the Dragon.”
“No, you wrong her. The first Yxtrang may squarely be laid at Val Con’s door.”
“Is that a fact? And the other two—I think it was two more?”
“If you must have it, those were my fault.”
Clarence threw back his head and laughed.
“Between the pair of you, the captain might decide she’d rather the mercs.”
“I live in fear of just such a decision,” Daav told him earnestly. “Though her attachment to one’s regrettable heir seems firm.”
“Got that. Ready to fetch him a smart box on the ear, is how I read it, and he bowed to it.”
“He does,” Daav murmured, “have a good deal of sense. Eventually.”
“Well,” Clarence said comfortably, “they’re young, the two of them.”
They sipped wine in companionable silence, and Daav refreshed the glasses.
“If it can be told, what brings you to us, with only an old pass-code between yourself and harm?”
“Truth told, it was you I’d come for, and I’d’ve sent word, had I any notion the whole clan was to hand.” He looked at Daav earnestly. “It’s not a firm faith, you understand me, in the old codes. More on the order of a wishfulness.”
