by Jaleta Clegg
The hatch hung open. Clark and Jerimon came in. Clark had a fistful of papers. Jerimon lugged a package of fertilizer.
Clark grinned as he closed the hatch. "Good idea, Dace. These should give us enough profit to make it well into the Cygnus Sector, whether or not we get any more cargo. Most carriers won’t touch live plants, even when they’ve been approved for transport. We could make this run for a long time and make good money."
"Only until the Sidyathari hear about it," Jerimon said. "Then the government will cut us out. Or tax us into bankruptcy."
"I’d go crazy stuck on the ship all the time," I said. "I’m not going to go out if I have to wear that sheet every time."
"I kind of like it," Clark said. "It gives an air of mystery."
"You’re weird, Clark," I said.
"Are we good to go?" Jasyn asked.
"Cleared and ready for takeoff." Clark put the papers in the ship safe. "As soon as we get the engines warmed up, we can leave."
We threaded our way through the foliage to the cockpit. We lifted off, back into space, away from the Sidyatha.
We were nearing the jump point when Jerimon spoke up. He was monitoring the com unit, listening in on earphones.
"This is odd." He put it on speaker.
"…highly dangerous. Report to the nearest police station if you have contact. Repeat, the suspect is very dangerous. Report any sightings to the nearest police station." The broadcast went back to its normal program, a series of droning songs to the glory of Sidya. Jerimon plugged his earpiece back in and the sound cut off.
"Some prisoner escaped," he said. "Poor guy."
"What does that have to do with us?" I asked.
"Not much. He was reported in the vicinity of the spaceport, though."
"What’s he wanted for?" Jasyn hit the enter button for the course and the computer beeped acceptance.
"Murder," Jerimon said as we went through the jump point. The transition through the transect boundary stretched the word out strangely. "And heresy, of course. Anyone they don’t like gets accused of that."
I checked the hyperdrive readings while Clark shut down the sublight engines.
"It doesn’t have anything to do with us," I said firmly.
We spent the next hour shifting plants into the cabins, putting them on the extra bunks. I ended up with a collection of flowering vines that trailed from the upper bunk in my cabin. I liked the effect, but it would have taken too much work to keep it looking nice. I’d spent a lot more hours than I ever wanted to fixing the hydroponics on Lady Rina’s ship, an old fashioned system that grew real plants, not just algae. Real plants were nice but they were a luxury I didn’t want to bother with.
We settled in for the trip. Jasyn cleared plants off the galley counter so she could cook. Clark and Jerimon set up a game of Crystals. I wandered through the lounge, examining the different plants. Maybe I could try painting pictures of some of them on the walls in my cabin. Then again, the last time I’d tried painting, I’d ended up with blobs of colored paint instead of flowers. I gave up on that idea.
I found a string and tried to interest Ghost in chasing it. She yawned then jumped to the high ledge over the cleaner. She lay down, propping her chin on her paws and staring at me with her big green eyes.
"You could play with us," Clark said, without looking up from the board. "We promise to try to let you win."
I shook my head. "I don’t understand half the rules."
I was interrupted by a loud crash from the engine room. I was headed down the stairs before anyone else had even moved. The door to the engine room was closed. Muffled sounds of banging and thumping came from the other side. If part of the engine had blown, we were dead.
Fearing the worst, I opened the door.
The engine hadn’t blown anything. The sublight engines were being dismantled by a very large man in a robe so old the garish colors had faded to indistinguishable tan.
"What in blazes are you doing?" I shouted. "Put that back. Now!"
The man ignored me. He carefully removed parts, cleaning them with a scrap of rag. Rows of neatly wiped parts were laid out on the floor. I squatted down and reached for an interlocking valve that had taken me most of a day to assemble. The man knocked my hand away without looking up from the part he was pulling out of the access hatch.
"He doesn’t like it if you touch his parts."
I looked past the man to see a very thin, very grimy boy wearing a robe as worn and faded as the bigger man’s.
"If you move them, he may not be able to get them back right," the youth said.
"If he doesn’t put them back, we could all die. Put them back, now," I ordered the large man. He acted as if he hadn’t heard me.
"Habim," the youth said, tugging at his sleeve. The large man pulled his arm free and continued dismantling my engine. "Habim," the boy said again. No, I realized, not a boy, a young woman with her hair chopped short and dressed like a boy. "Habim, you have to put it back together."
"But it isn’t clean yet," Habim said.
"You can’t take it apart when we’re in space," I said.
"But it isn’t running," Habim said reasonably. "It isn’t tuned right," he added as if it were the most logical thing to say.
"But if you don’t put it back together, we will end up as dust." It had taken me four days to assemble and calibrate the parts he had lined up and dismantled on the floor. Working as fast as I could, it would be a very close thing. We were due to reach Onipas in just over four days. And Habim was still pulling pieces out.
"Habim, you have to put it back," the girl said.
"I’m not finished." He reached for another piece of the engine. I grabbed for his hand. He jerked away as if I were poisonous.
"He doesn’t like to be touched by people he doesn’t know," the girl said.
"I don’t like people taking my ship apart while I’m trying to fly it," I shot back.
"Habim, you have to put it back. Now," the girl said.
"But." His hands windmilled in front of him.
She grabbed his hands and held them trapped in her own much smaller ones. "Now, Habim."
The large man froze, motionless, staring at the parts on the floor. The girl held his hands for a long tense moment. I wanted to start putting parts back. I was afraid it might set the large man off. He finally heaved a huge sigh. The girl let go of his hands. Habim started reassembling the engine. His hands fairly flew over the parts, locking them into each other, seating them with an unbelievable delicacy. It took him less than fifteen minutes to put it all back together. I stared at him as he worked. I’d never seen anyone do what he was doing. I’d spent hours twisting and fiddling to get the assembleges just right and then I’d had to spend more hours calibrating and aligning them. Habim was doing it without any wasted motions, seating parts on the first try.
I glanced behind me to see the others watching from the doorway. Clark caught my eye and left. Going to check the alignment of the engine assemblies, I knew. Jerimon watched Habim warily.
"He needs something to take apart," the girl said, "especially when he’s upset. I tried to stop him."
"You stowed away on my ship," I interrupted. "By rights, I should turn around as soon as I can and take you back. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t turn you in to the authorities on Onipas and let them deal with you."
"I’m sorry. Your ship was open and I didn’t know what else to do."
They looked hungry and dirty. They looked like they’d been living on the streets of Brugundhi for quite some time.
"I'd be within my rights as captain to shove you both out the airlock," I said.
The girl swallowed hard. Habim stared longingly at the engine. His hands moved back and forth in small waves above his lap.
I gave in. "But I’m not that cruel. We don’t have anywhere to lock you up, so you’re going to have to promise that Habim won’t take anything else apart without asking me first." I should have been angry, I should have been
a lot harder on them. There was something in the girl’s eyes, however, that echoed something in my own heart and memory. Her vulnerability completely disarmed me.
She sighed with relief. She leaned forward and tugged on Habim’s sleeve. "You have to promise not to take anything apart without asking first, Habim."
"But, it’s not right."
"Everything checks out to less than point one percent," Clark said from the doorway. "Better than factory specs."
I stared at Habim, keeping my jaw where it was by a major effort.
"He’s very good at fixing things," the girl said.
"Point one percent?" Jasyn added. "Better than very good."
The girl turned her huge eyes on me. "You won’t turn us in, will you?"
"That depends on what your story really is. Come up to the lounge. You can get cleaned up and we’ll find you something to eat."
Habim made an abortive gesture at the engine. "It isn’t right yet."
"Habim," I said. He stopped, cocking his head and frowning at the engine. "You can take it apart later. After we land."
That seemed to settle him. He followed the girl, squeezing past me and climbing the short steps to the lounge.
Chapter 8
Jasyn herded both of them to the ship’s tiny showers. Finding them clean clothes was going to be a bit of a problem. The girl was several inches shorter than me and a lot thinner. I’m not that big myself, but she was tiny. I was sure I could find something in the piles of clothes Jasyn kept making me buy that she could wear. They’d be a bit long but not as much as Jasyn’s clothes would be. Habim, though, was a completely different story. He was huge without being fat. Jerimon was short and slender, his clothes would never fit Habim. Clark was somewhat taller but it would have taken at least two of his suits to make it once around Habim.
Jasyn solved it temporarily by appearing with Habim’s clothing and stuffing it into the cleaner. "He wasn’t very happy about me taking his clothes. Ginni talked him into it."
"What are we going to do with them?" Jerimon asked.
"We don’t have a brig to lock them in," I said, "or even a decent storage closet."
Jerimon frowned. "You aren’t going to leave them loose, are you?"
"What other choice do we have?"
He leaned over the table, his blue eyes very serious and very worried. "You aren’t really going to do that, are you?"
"I suppose we could lock them in your cabin," I said. The other empty cabin held the med unit and I did not want Habim disassembling that. It was sealed and delicate and was not designed to be taken apart.
"There are access panels in there," Clark said reasonably. "Not to mention Habim could disable the door lock in less than three seconds."
Jasyn banged a pot on the counter. We all looked at her.
"Why don’t we just space them both and be done with it?" she asked, glaring at her brother.
"It might be safer," Jerimon said.
"I don’t believe you!"
"You don’t know who they are." Jerimon turned back to me. "Habim is the murderer they were looking for when we left Brugundhi."
"Habim? A murderer?" I said.
"And you’re proposing we just let them have the run of the ship," Jerimon said.
"What do you think we should do?" I asked him. "Lock them in the bathroom like we did Leon on the Twinkle? You saw what he can do. There isn’t a door or lock on this ship that Habim can’t take apart."
"He’s dangerous," Jerimon protested. "The Sidyathari are going to be after us if we don’t turn them in."
"So we land on Onipas and turn them in," Clark said.
"Depending on their stories," I added. "I don’t think we have much to worry about from Habim. Unless he takes the engine apart again."
"Dace, you can’t trust them." Jerimon stopped when he saw Ginni standing in the doorway to my cabin.
She’d used my bathroom. She wore one of my outfits, a warm green tunic and tan pants. They were a bit big on her. She watched all of us with her huge dark eyes. Her hair was still wet, standing up in tangles that looked a lot like my hair. "Where’s Habim?"
The cleaner beeped. Jasyn shot a look at Clark. He stood.
"That would mean his clothes are clean," Clark said. "We don’t have anything on board even close to his size." Clark pulled the shabby robe from the cleaner. It was still a dirty beige color.
Ginni followed him into Jerimon’s cabin. We heard muffled talking through the open door. I stayed at the table, slouching in a chair with my arms folded. This was a complication I didn’t want to deal with, especially not Jerimon’s way. There was something about Ginni that was uncomfortably familiar. Jerimon glared across the table. Jasyn ignored us, stirring something in her pot that smelled really good.
I batted a wandering plant leaf out of my hair. This trip was turning into another nightmare. How did I keep getting into trouble? Sometimes it felt as if the entire galaxy was out to get me.
Ginni came back, dragging Habim with her. Clark followed them both out of the cabin. Habim twisted his hands uncertainly in his robe, Ginni tried unsuccessfully to hold them still. She looked scared.
"You must be hungry." Jasyn put the steaming pot on the table. It smelled good enough to make my mouth water. Ginni still hesitated, darting glances at me and Jerimon, who hovered over me like the wall of plants between the table and the hatch.
"Jerimon," I said, "go calibrate the stabilizers."
He knew there was no possible way to calibrate them in hyperspace. He was scaring Ginni, though, and she wasn’t going to talk with him looming over the table. We needed her to talk, I needed to hear her story. Jerimon hovered over me for a minute longer. I ignored him.
"I’ll go calibrate the stabilizers, then," he said finally and went into the cockpit. He didn’t shut the door, but the wall of plants hid him.
Jasyn, meanwhile, had dished up two bowls of thick stew. Only two, I noticed. It wasn’t mealtime for another hour, I told my stomach. It didn’t believe me. Habim sniffed his bowl and raised his spoon. He paused, watching Ginni.
"Can we eat it?" he whispered.
She shot one glance at Jasyn and then settled her look on me. It was as if she’d already determined Jasyn and Clark were on her side. Jerimon and I were still unknown.
"Eat it," I said. "Despite what Jerimon may say, we aren’t going to shove you out the airlock. We aren’t pirates."
"Then what are you going to do with us?" Ginni asked me.
"Tell us your story and we’ll decide," I said.
"You’ll turn us in to the Sidyathari." She dropped her gaze to the bowl of stew in front of her. Her shoulders sagged.
"Can we eat yet?" Habim asked. He made impatient circles over his bowl with his spoon. All of his attention was fixed on Ginni. "I’m hungry."
"Go ahead and eat it," Ginni said to him.
"Why do the Sidyathari want you?" I asked.
Habim slurped noisily. His bowl was already half empty.
Ginni stirred her soup, as if the answer was buried somewhere in the broth. "They want me because I live on the streets."
"Because you don’t have a male family member to keep you," Jasyn said.
Ginni’s head jerked up. She stared wide eyed at Jasyn. I could almost smell her fear. "How did you know?"
"That you aren’t a boy?" Jasyn said. "We aren’t blind."
"Then you’ll turn me in," she said, fear turning into despair again.
"Is there more?" Habim was practically licking the finish from the bowl. Jasyn filled it for him.
"Why would we do that?" I asked Ginni. The Sidyatha culture reminded me too much of Tivor where I’d grown up, and I didn’t like it. "You’ve got Habim."
She shook her head, damp hair flying around her face. "He isn’t my brother. He rescued me from a street gang. I stayed with him, because he needs me. He isn’t quite right."
"He’s wanted for murder," Clark said. "You want to explain that?"
"They came
to get us three days ago." The words began to flow out of her, as if they’d been bottled up for a long time. "One of the Sidyama, the Hand of God. I knew we’d stayed in the shack too long, but the weather had been bad and it was warm there. They found us and he came to get us. Habim didn’t like him. He tried to touch him. Habim hit him. We left him lying in the doorway and ran. I didn’t know what else to do. There was a hole in the port fence, so I slipped onto the field. We spent the night hiding, running away from inspectors. Your ship was open, so we snuck on and hid."
Habim slurped up the last of his soup in the quiet that followed.
"If they are after you because you live on the streets, they won’t follow," Clark said. "But they put out a bulletin on Habim. For murder. How likely is it that they’ll chase you?"
Ginni shook her head. "I don’t know."
"Eat your soup," Jasyn told her. "We can’t do anything about it for another four days."
"Why not?" Ginni asked, startled.
"Because we’re in hyperspace," I said. "We won’t reach Onipas for another four days."
"But aren’t you going to send a message or something?" she asked.
"We couldn’t if we wanted to. And I’m not sure we want to." I shifted in my chair. "Tell us your whole story, Ginni. And as much of Habim’s as you know."
"Convince Jerimon you’re harmless," Clark put in with a grin in the direction of the cockpit.
"You won’t send me back?" Ginni asked.
"Maybe," I answered. "That depends on what you tell us. And don’t lie."
"Let her eat first." Jasyn handed a bowl to Clark, then slid one in front of me. "You can stop drooling now." She took two more bowls and headed for the cockpit.
Clark took the fourth chair at the table. I tasted the stew. It was delicious, as usual. Ginni watched us both. Habim licked his bowl clean again. Clark dished him more, reaching behind him for the pot. He left it in the middle of the table. Ginni finally tasted the soup. She started eating in earnest then. I guessed it had been several days since she’d last eaten. I knew what it felt like to be that hungry. She devoured the first bowl and started on a second. She talked between mouthfuls.
