Flotsam

by R J Theodore

  He took a brazen step forward, looked ready to grab at her, maybe shake her for an answer. Then he focused on something over her shoulder, and his eyes went so wide that the whites showed all around the red-brown of his irises.

  There was a clacking sound. An undercurrent brushing of dry grass in a stiff wind.

  A translator pad said, behind her, “Does this one make personal bother you, Talis Captain?”

  “No, it’s not possible…” Hankirk’s voice was barely a whisper.

  Talis empathized with his panic. It took every bit of self-control she had to look casually over her shoulder rather than whirl around to face the Yu’Nyun party.

  They were armed, or so it appeared. Their weapons were not the down-to-business guns that Talis was used to. They were beautiful, more sculptural than practical, like something that belonged on a pedestal. Instead they were slung from shoulder straps across the aliens’ pale thoraxes—and they were leveled at Hankirk.

  There was a ripple of motion from the crowd, and some dropped their guise of disinterest to stare openly at the aliens. More specifically, at their weapons.

  Talis put a hand out. A shoot-out between Cutter folk was one thing. But the aliens hadn’t attacked anyone since they arrived, and she didn’t want them to start on her account. “He was just leaving, friends.”

  She turned back to Hankirk. Nodded her chin quickly at the passage behind him.

  “We’ll see you later, won’t we?”

  Hankirk’s eyes flashed with a sequence of silent reactions like the slides of a flicker show. His face twisted and he looked as anxious as he did angry. He backed up a few steps, turned, and stalked off. Tossed his tray of uneaten food atop an overflowing bin before he rounded the corner. The score she’d have to settle with him, one of these days, was growing.

  Talis took a deep breath and turned back to the Yu’Nyun. What did it say about her that she would rather be alone in the recesses of Subrosa with four aliens than with Hankirk?

  “All is as discussed,” said one of them, speaking through its flat device.

  Talis listened as much to the alien’s vocalizations as she did the message its device passed along. The language structure was bizarre. But where it had been barely recognizable as speech earlier, she was starting to get a feeling for its patterns. It wouldn’t be as easily learned as the native Peridot languages she had picked up as a matter of professional courtesy, but those languages came from throats far more like her own than that of the Yu’Nyun. But given time.…

  She blinked that idea free of its footing. No point in chasing a rabbit of a thought like spending enough time with the Yu’Nyun to learn their language, let alone to speak it. If she did her job right, they could leave Peridot’s thinnest atmo in a few weeks. Maybe less.

  The alien was looking at her expectantly. Talis realized its last comment had been a question.

  She pasted a smile on her face, not even sure if that would mean anything to them, and clapped her hands together. Made a point of speaking plainly. Last thing she wanted was for a misconstrued idiom to blow the whole deal.

  “Yes, of course. That man is an old acquaintance of mine.”

  “Ours as well.”

  That was news to her. Had they spent more time together than the brief meeting of their two ships over the flotsam, before Wind Sabre’s hasty exit? The alien’s face was rigid, and the mechanical interpreter added no inflection to its translation.

  “Previous, he agree audience what we seek. He delay, speak false words.”

  She nodded. Kept up the smile, for what it was worth, though she felt one corner of her mouth twist wryly. “Ah, I see you do know him. As I said, he’s an old acquaintance. Not anyone I do any dealing with currently. We only met by accident in the alley.”

  “Coincidence.”

  She chuckled. “Not really. The food stall at the end of this passage has some of the best roasted meat you’ll ever taste. Not to be missed when visiting this port. Perhaps you’ll allow me to buy you dinner? My treat, in thanks.”

  The aliens turned their heads to exchange looks. Talis wondered how that message got through. The guns moved. She twitched, but they were only being shouldered.

  “Not eat food this,” said the veiled alien. The diplomat. It touched the side of its mandible with long fingers. She realized she probably didn’t want to see how they chewed their food. “But with gratitude.”

  The first spoke again. “Company to your ship, Talis Captain. Safety for you.”

  Anyone who was watching her already knew she was dealing with the aliens. The person she would least want to know had already run off, undoubtedly to start whatever trouble he could with that information. And wouldn’t it get the fools of Subrosa talking, to see her with an entourage of extraplanetary foreigners? Gods, the word might get back to Wind Sabre before she could.

  “My gratitude to you,” she replied, bowing her head slightly. “If you’ll just be patient with me, while I buy dinner for my crew and myself?”

  Her unusual company stood back a bit from the kiosk as she made her purchase. The herbs and spices wafting from the cooktop seemed to be making their eyes water.

  She paid for enough food to feed a small army, and the restaurant owner pushed an open cardboard box into her arms. The scented steam enveloped her and she breathed deep. The carton was heavy, hot, and no doubt would soon be leaking grease out of the bottom flaps.

  Chapter 15

  True to their poorly translated words, the four Yu’Nyun saw Talis all the way to the berth where Wind Sabre was docked. She walked beside the veiled alien, with one of their entourage walking in front and the other two at their backs. The last time Talis had been escorted so formally, she’d been under arrest.

  Attempting small talk with her new business partner didn’t go far. The translator pad worked well enough, but either a compulsive need to fill dead air with conversation was not a universal trait, or the alien didn’t relish their time together any more than she did. Somewhat relieved, Talis dropped the pretense and they walked the rest of the way in silence. She did her best not to seem too curious about her companions, keeping alert to the pulses of Subrosa instead of staring at the lead alien’s back and the fascinating pattern of carvings across the segmented plates of its neck and shoulders. In return, her escorts seemed to try not to be offended by the smells wafting from the dinner carton. Anyway, the rest of Subrosa had the staring amply covered.

  Within sight of Wind Sabre, she saw Sophie gaping openly at them from the top of the gangway, a cigarette in danger of dropping from her parted lips. Talis felt an involuntary grin trying to split her face. She struggled to keep her expression under control as she turned to say goodbye to the veiled alien.

  “I thank you, again,” she said to her Yu’Nyun counterpart. “For your assistance, and for your company.”

  “We most eager to begin,” came the response. Foreign words spoken by the alien who faced her, but interpreted to her right-hand side by the pad in another alien’s hands.

  “As am I,” Talis said. “On that note, and due to the presence of our mutual acquaintance, Captain Hankirk, I suggest we avoid any unnecessary delay. Would you be amenable to meeting at the agreed location early tomorrow morning?”

  “Most reasonable, Talis Captain. Wise and reasonable.”

  Normally she’d shake hands with a business partner, but a glance at the skeletal fingers obscured beneath the long veil, and Talis awkwardly decided a small bow was more appropriate. The aliens, in a single synchronous movement, touched the notches at the base of their throats, then their foreheads, and turned to leave.

  “Can’t say I’ve ever heard anyone call you ‘reasonable,’ Captain.”

  Talis looked up at Sophie, who had recovered from her shock. She leaned one elbow on the railing of the ship, looking down as she stubbed her cigarette against the metal disk s
ewn into her leather wrist band. She was still wearing her finery from before, though she had shed the weight of the shoulder holsters. No, Sophie certainly hadn’t called her reasonable lately. But the girl was grinning. Hadn’t meant anything by it, just the usual smuggler’s gibe. Talis took a breath through her nose and tried to let her nerves settle.

  “Oh, I am most reasonable,” she assured Sophie, hefting up the box which had, as she predicted, soaked through at the bottom. “Now take this gods-rotted heavy thing before I reason I ought not to share.”

  Dug met them on deck, and Sophie unloaded the box into his arms. She eagerly cleared a space on one of the engine houses, pushing aside a coil of line so he could put it down, then ran off to get plates and utensils.

  “We’ll eat in the galley,” Talis called to Sophie before she could disappear below. “Got news. Don’t want to share it with everyone on the docks. Where’s Tisker? Sleeping?”

  Sophie came up short of the access below and her demeanor shifted. Her hand went to the leather pouch on her waist as if to fetch another cigarette from the brass case inside, but only fiddled with the flap instead. She was headed to the lower decks, after all. “Oh, he, uh… had a personal errand to run. Said he’d be back by dinner, Captain, but it’s a bit early yet.”

  Talis eyed her. Sophie was a better liar than that.

  “We accepted a delivery,” Dug said, “only a short while before you returned.”

  Talis turned her head to Dug. In her peripheral she saw Sophie use the distraction to make her escape.

  “Tea and herbs from Zeela’s House of Antiquities?” she asked, and enjoyed the way his eyes narrowed at her. He only liked when she was unpredictable in combat.

  “Yes, Captain. What is it really? Herbs don’t weigh that much, or clink when their carton is shifted.” He reached out and plucked something out of her hair, holding it up between them. A dead sackbug, which she must have picked up in her chase after the pickpocket.

  Talis grinned at him. She shouldn’t be grinning. Dug certainly wasn’t grinning.

  Between Hankirk, the aliens, and the route ahead, there was so little to smile about. Little, but enough to fill that crate from Zeela and put some of the raucous voices in her mind to rest. She couldn’t help it. It had been a long day, and at the start of it, things hadn’t looked like they’d work out half so well as they had.

  “You procured a new contract?”

  “It’s a longer answer than ‘Yes,’ my friend. Where’s the delivery? I’ll need to verify the contents. Then you’ll see what I’ve procured.”

  She clapped him on the shoulder. He stood firm, in her way. Polite. Deferential. Her best friend, dearest advisor, and very concerned first mate.

  “Come on, Dug.” She screwed up her face in a feigned pout. “At least hear what I have to say before you decide to mutiny.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  It wasn’t always easy to tell when he was joking. She pushed him playfully toward the hatch that led below, following behind. Tried not to let his hesitation color her mood. She already felt guilty enough, dropping the news that she’d taken a contract like this. Contracts were a captain’s prerogative and she owed no explanation. But this was the Yu’Nyun. This, even more, was Dug’s own goddess.

  “Where is Tisker really, Dug?”

  Dug’s shoulders tensed. He’d washed off the gold dust, but in the still air of the docking bay, had not bothered to put his shirt back on. Talis could see the muscles ripple under his bare skin and the scars on his back shift with the motion.

  “Right here, Cap. No worries.”

  Talis jumped, and was thankful she managed to control the yelp that had threatened to burst from her throat. She turned toward the sound of Tisker’s voice and saw him heading down the access behind them, one hand on the railing installed over the steps. His other arm was tucked around an odd-shaped parcel wrapped in old newsprint. From the lean in his shoulder, it was heavy for its size.

  “Good,” Talis said. “I don’t think Sophie was going to hold dinner for you.”

  She let her gaze slide up from the mystery object to his face, so he’d know she was asking. “Anyone out there give you trouble?”

  But Tisker’s nostrils flared and his chin rose to follow the scent of food coming out of the galley. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Their feast was laid out on the drop-leaf table in the galley, and Sophie’d turned on only half the cabin lighting. The cramped dining compartment was warm and cozy and smelled amazing. The trays of food sat unwrapped with a serving spoon thrust into each. Talis’s mouth watered, and her stomach rumbled in empathy with the bare plates laid out at each setting. Tisker sidled around her to his end of the table as Dug headed past the galley on route to the cargo hold.

  Sophie scooped a hefty portion of rice as Tisker examined the different meats Talis had brought back. He placed the paper-wrapped parcel down on the table beside his setting with a solid clunk, then nibbled a small crisp end that had fallen loose of one skewer, with his help.

  He closed his eyes and savored the bite. “Haven’t had this in ages. Gods, I missed that place.”

  It would be fair to say that Talis had gone a little overboard. Usually the four of them would split an order of meat with a portion of rice and vegetables for each. Cheaper that way, though it wouldn’t leave any leftovers. Today, in her elevated spirits, and shopping hungry, she had gotten more orders of meat than mouths to feed, and not the cheaper selections. It was enough food for twice as many people, but she trusted they’d find a way to make it disappear.

  They’d been living on nonperishable ship rations, forced to skip a full grocery run on their last refuel because of the cost of the salvage overhead. So there had been food but nothing that inspired much enthusiasm: dehydrated meat and tins of boiled vegetables eaten standing at the prep counter, not even worth setting a place or pulling out a chair for. She’d taken in her belt two notches, as it happened. She planned on correcting that, easily, with this meal.

  The mood in the galley was as palpable as the savory smells rising in curling tendrils of steam from the spread. Talis hated to squash it, but she couldn’t let Tisker’s careless outing stand unquestioned. And she had been so looking forward to revealing the contents of that crate. To silencing Sophie’s complaints and Dug’s questions of her judgment.

  It would open up an entirely different line of questioning about her judgment, but she was braced for that already. Dug in particular was not going to be happy with her, but she planned at the very least to enjoy seeing her own surprise echoed on their faces when she flashed that alien money at them.

  Dug returned with an unassuming wooden crate hefted over his shoulder. He had to duck to enter the galley with it. Zeela had done her job making it look like a standard transaction. Battered recycled panels formed the crate, old labels covered with the new customs forms, locked with a padlock, and nailed shut with enough tacks to make even the most by-the-books custom agent think twice about putting forth the effort to open it. As long as no one jostled it, it wouldn’t seem worth the trouble.

  Swinging the load off his shoulder and down, Dug placed it before her chair. It hit the deck between her and her plate with a thud and a faint jingle from within. Dug laid a sally bar on top. The meaning there was clear enough. Answers first.

  Exactly her thought. First answer she wanted, though, was what Tisker had run off for, and why Sophie had lied about it.

  She put a foot up on the edge of the crate. Looked hard at Tisker. “Where’d you go? Ship’s on high watch and you gotta run off into the thick of Subrosa?”

  Tisker’s gaze darted to the parcel on the table. Looked like he wished he’d put it somewhere else. “You know I’m fine out there, Cap.”

  “Nothing’s fine out there today. You hear we were attacked before you run off? That Jasper’s dead? Spill it.”

  S
ophie cleared her throat and took a big bite of food. Dug still hadn’t parked himself in his seat. He stood over them, arms crossed. Tisker shifted, moved his utensils on the napkin. Then picked up a set of tapered nimblesticks from the pile that came with the take-out.

  “Yeah, I knew. Sophie told me what happened to Jasper and how there wasn’t going to be a payout for the ring if you—we—couldn’t find someone else. Wanted to help,” he said. His words sounded small, almost childish. “You know. Use my connections to find a buyer for it.”

  Talis felt heat under her collar and over her cheekbones. She picked up the cup of water Sophie had set at her place, suddenly too warm in the small room. “You went out there flapping about our business, with all the trouble Sophie’d just finished telling you about?”

  “I grew up here,” he said, a little loudly. “I still know people.”

  “I don’t think we really know people at all, sometimes.” Talis left open who she was referring to.

  “Anyway,” Tisker pushed on, picking up food with his nimblesticks but not eating. He moved the pieces around on his plate, but wouldn’t look at her. “I didn’t need to ask around about it at all. Wasn’t even to the old stomps before someone’s alley rat came up to me about it.”

  Prickles went up and down Talis’s arms and legs. “Whose rat?”

  “Kid wouldn’t say.” He looked at her then. “And I sure didn’t. I’m not careless, Cap. They ask about something, directly, before you get a chance to offer it? I battened down and dropped all notions of telling anyone about it. Seemed like the news was all out, anyway. But it wasn’t on my account, Cap. I tell you that.”

  His grin had flatlined. He looked downtrodden all over, like that kid who begged his way onto her ship. More like that kid than she’d seen in Tisker for a long time, in fact. She squinted at him.