And she wasn’t stupid. She knew all that as well as March did. That meant she loved him enough that she didn’t care.
He was touched, but he felt the burden of responsibility. Adelaide had given him her heart, and he didn’t want to break it. Lord Admiral Stormreel had told him that a romantic relationship was a liability for an Alpha Operative of the Silent Order, and he wasn’t wrong.
But everyone had liabilities. Some of them were more important than others.
After their relationship started, March had tried to answer Adelaide’s letters with ones of his own, but that hadn’t worked. Trying to write more than a paragraph at a time irritated him, and his letters always read like mission reports. So instead he recorded videos. He tapped at the communications controls, set it to record, and talked into the camera for a few minutes. He told Adelaide how he was doing, in general terms, though he omitted anything specific. March told her how much he missed her and that he loved her, and that he would be out of touch for a few weeks.
Then he ran the video file through multiple layers of encryption, encryption to which only Adelaide’s home computer had the decryption keys, and then sent it to the queue for the tachyon-entanglement relay.
The ship’s intercom clicked. “Captain March?”
March hit the switch. “Dr. Siegfried?”
“Are we approaching Alexandria Station?” she said.
“We are,” said March. “Please join me in the flight cabin.”
“Coming,” said Siegfried, and March switched off the intercom and unlocked the flight cabin door. A moment later it hissed open, and Dr. Siegfried stepped inside, dressed in her usual black jacket and trousers. Her eyes went wide as she looked at the displays, and March gestured for her to sit in the co-pilot’s station.
“That’s Alexandria Station?” she said, nodding at a screen showing a visual display of the station. She settled gingerly on the edge of the co-pilot’s acceleration seat, arms wrapped tight about herself.
“It is,” said March. “We’re going to pick up the third member of our team here, and then continue toward Burnchain Station.”
“Who is this third person?” said Siegfried.
“Someone who will be useful,” said March.
Siegfried fell silent, and March focused on the controls.
“If I’m going to trust you to lead,” said Siegfried, “then you need to trust me with some information.”
March grunted. “All right. His name’s John November. He’s a man of many talents, but he’s mostly a financial analyst.” He was also an Alpha Operative of the Silent Order, but Siegfried didn’t know that.
“A financial analyst?” said Siegfried, her face crinkling up. “What good would that do us?”
“He deals with tracking down criminal financial transactions,” said March. And executing the people who perpetrated those transactions, but that was something else Siegfried didn’t need to know. “My government has used him for this kind of job before. He’s got an eidetic memory, and he knows more about the criminal underworld of human space than anyone who isn’t actually part of that underworld.”
“So, he is familiar with the Masters of Burnchain Station,” said Siegfried.
“Extremely,” said March.
“What is Mr. November like?” said Siegfried.
March though it over.
“Women usually like him,” said March, “right up until he starts talking.”
Siegfried laughed, once, and then fell silent.
A half-hour later March had maneuvered the Tiger to dock with the station. He set the ship on standby, and then spoke with station control again, purchasing supplies and scheduling maintenance on the ship’s systems. March didn’t know how far it would be to Burnchain Station, but he wanted to be ready.
“We’ll be here for eight hours,” said March. “I suggest you remain on the ship for that time. If you want to visit some of the shopping concourses, that’s fine, but don’t wander and don’t talk about why you’re here.”
Siegfried hesitated. “I do need some things. Or I would like some things. Your ship isn’t much on comfort.” She frowned. “Where will you be?”
“I’m going to meet Mr. November and bring him here,” said March. “Remember, eight hours.”
“Why…don’t I come with you?” said Siegfried. “To be frank, I would feel safer with you. I cannot help but wonder if the Agotanni Pirates are looking for me.”
March doubted it, but that would let him keep an eye on her. “Very well. Let’s go.”
He set the ship to standby and locked it down and led the way to the cargo airlock and to the docking ring. The main corridor of the docking ring looked a great deal like the docking corridors on Calaskar Station. Crowds moved up and down the corridor, with cargo handlers in blue jumpsuits hurrying through the passengers, cargo drones whirring past on their treads. March even spotted a few aliens in the mix, with two elephantine-like Rhobosi and a single tall Phasmidi in ceremonial robes and a breath mask.
March would have preferred to walk to his destination, but it was at least three and a half kilometers, and he wasn’t sure Dr. Siegfried’s health was up to it. He hailed an autocab and paid for it, and he and Siegfried climbed into the drone cart’s front seat.
“The Tilehouse, commercial concourse three,” he instructed the machine. The autocab beeped and rolled forward at a sedate pace.
“Thank you for ordering an autocab,” said Siegfried in a quiet voice, her eyes watching the crowds. “I’m…not sure I could have managed a long walk.”
March nodded. “Been severely injured a few times myself. The recovery is never fun.”
Her eyes flicked to the leather glove and bracer concealing his cybernetic left hand. “Yes, I suppose you have.” She frowned at him. “You are a surprising man, Captain March.”
“People keep telling me that.”
“That’s why I asserted myself so strongly at first,” said Siegfried. “I thought you would be some greedy privateer, a pirate with a veneer of legality.” She took a deep breath. “As I said earlier, thank you for making the lesson no harder than it needed to be.”
March shrugged. “You were halfway there already. Getting shot’s an excellent lesson.”
“Technically,” said Siegfried, “I believe the fear of getting shot again is the motivator.”
March grunted. “Whatever works.” He rubbed his face with his right hand. “Doesn’t matter what I think or what you think, Dr. Siegfried. We’ve got a job to do, and we’re going to do it.”
“I can tell you’re not an academic,” said Siegfried.
He glanced at her, surprised. “It’s probably obvious.”
“If you were an academic, every decision would have to be discussed in committee, with due consideration for everyone’s feelings,” said Siegfried.
The autocab left the docking ring and headed for one of the transfer corridors to the station’s commercial concourses. March supposed if he had listened to his feelings, he would be on Calaskar with Adelaide right now.
“Where are we going?” said Siegfried. “What’s this Tilehouse place?”
“A bar,” said March. “Mr. November will meet us there. Assuming he hasn’t started a fight and gotten himself thrown out.”
“A fight?” said Siegfried. “How would he have started a fight?”
“By opening his mouth,” said March.
The autocab reached commercial concourse three. It looked a great deal like the commercial concourses on other Calaskaran space stations, with several levels of balconies overhead. Shops aimed at starship crewers and pilots lined the concourses – parts suppliers, repair shops, and so forth. Since this was a Calaskaran station, there was a large and well-attended church on the second level, and the big screens attached to the balconies displayed documentaries from the Ministry of Information rather than advertisements. Though the seediness that marked any spaceport was also in evidence. March spotted several pickpockets moving through the crowd
s, and he knew that Alexandria Station had a well-regulated brothel tucked away from the station’s public areas. (The Royal Church didn’t approve, but the Royal Church also realized that human nature did not change.)
Calaskaran society also tended to embrace its class system. Nobles, ship owners, and officers of the Royal Navy visited the bars and restaurants on the upper level of the concourse. Enlisted crewers and technicians preferred their own bars on the lower level.
The Tilehouse was one such place.
The autocab stopped in front of the bar’s entrance, and March and Siegfried got out.
“I suppose this is the sort of place I should never go alone?” said Siegfried, eyeing the doors and the twin bouncers in black standing there.
“Not particularly,” said March. “It’s perfectly safe so long as you don’t start anything.”
He nodded to the bouncers, and they let March and Siegfried pass. A courtesy android shuffled towards them, and March ignored it. The smell of cigarette smoke and the sharper odor of strong alcohol came to March’s nose, and he looked around. A long bar ran the length of the far wall, staffed by female bartenders in tight vests and skirts that just barely met the standards of Calaskaran propriety. Tables were scattered around the room, and starship crewers and enlisted Navy men sat at those tables, eating and drinking. Quite a few card games were underway.
John November was at one of the poker tables, his cards spread in his hand.
He had not changed since the last time March had seen him. His eyes were an icy, almost eerie blue, which made for a marked contrast with his dark skin and close-cropped black hair. He wore a white shirt buttoned to the throat, a long black Calaskaran coat, trousers, and a starship crewer’s boots. His face was so lean that his cheekbones seemed like blades against his skin, and his teeth flashed white as he grinned at his cards.
“Is that him?” said Siegfried.
March nodded, gauging the mood of the men at November’s table. “Wait a moment.”
November laid his cards on the table, and a groan went through the other players. Without changing his expression, November started to rake in his chips, and then a middle-aged man in a crewer’s jumpsuit surged to his feet and leveled a finger.
“You cheat!” he thundered.
“I most certainly do not,” said November, unruffled. His voice was deep with a touch of a rasp, as if his throat had been injured and never quite healed.
“You won the last four hands,” said the crewer. “That is impossible.”
“It is not,” said November. “I won through the application of superior skill and strategy.”
“You have some way of seeing our cards,” said the crewer.
“Did he cheat?” whispered Siegfried.
March shook his head. “Eidetic memory. He’ll lose the first several hands, and then he’ll have memorized the position of all the cards in the deck.”
“Bouncer!” shouted November. A silence fell over the Tilehouse as the patrons turned to watch the new entertainment. “I voluntarily submit to a scan and a search. I am not cheating, nor do I have any means by which to do so.”
Siegfried snorted. “Except an eidetic memory.”
Three bouncers approached, one of them equipped with a portable scanning unit. They searched November, scanned him, patted him down, found nothing illegal or incriminating, and then certified that he had not been cheating.
“Splendid,” said November. He collected his chips. “Gentlemen, good day.”
With that, he strolled over to join March and Siegfried.
“Jack,” he said, holding out his right hand. “Good to see you again. You have a knack for turning up at an opportune time.”
“John,” said March, shaking November’s hand. “At least you’re not getting chased out of the spaceport this time.”
“That does not happen all that often,” said November. “I simply need to cash out my chips and collect my luggage, and then we may depart.”
“Good,” said March. “This is Dr. Anna Siegfried. She’ll be joining us.”
“Mr. November,” said Siegfried, smiling as she held out her hand. She was impressed, March could tell.
“Dr. Siegfried,” said November, shaking her hand. He peered at her and then looked at March. “I must say, Jack. I thought you would benefit from female company for some time now. She is pretty enough, but a little old for you.”
Siegfried’s smile vanished.
“I see what you mean about his mouth,” she said to March.
###
Nine hours later, the Tiger entered hyperspace, proceeding to the first system on its course to Exarch Station.
March looked at the displays, confirming that all systems were operating within acceptable parameters. Then he stood, stretched, instructed Vigil to notify him at once if there were any problems, and left the flight cabin.
Dr. Siegfried had retired to her cabin, partly because the day had worn her out, and partly because March suspected she didn’t want to spend any more time with November than necessary. November was good at many things, but making friends was not one of them.
March stepped into the galley. November sat at the table, frowning at a tablet, and his strange eyes looked up at March’s approach.
“Ah, Jack,” he said as March sat opposite him. He reached into his coat and withdrew a small cardboard carton. “Cigarette?”
March reached into the carton and took a cigarette. “These things are hell on the air filters.”
“Well, you likely need to replace the air filter in here anyway,” said November. He lit his cigarette and passed the lighter to March. “And it is a tradition. Whenever we go on a mission together, we start with a cigarette.”
“There are worse traditions to follow,” said March, lighting his own cigarette. He closed the lighter and slid it across the table. “So. Exarch Station?”
“Yes,” said November. “Dr. Northridge and Lieutenant Alan await us there. From the Exarch system, it will be another seven hyperjumps to Burnchain Station’s scheduled location. Should take us about two days. And then the hard part will begin.”
“Yes,” said March, blowing out a cloud of smoke. He didn’t smoke often but enjoyed it when he did.
“Are we going to have a problem with Dr. Siegfried?” said November.
“She doesn’t like you,” said March.
November scoffed. “Most people don’t like me. That’s hardly important. She doesn’t seem the sort for this kind of business.”
“She isn’t,” said March, “but she is an expert on Fifth Empire biotechnology. If we want to dispose of the biomorphic fungi, she’s our best bet. And I think our best bet is to leave her on the ship when we get to Burnchain Station.”
“That is not a terrible idea,” said November. He gave an irritated shake of his head. “There are too many people involved in this mission, Jack. Too many scientists. I don’t like scientists.”
“Politics,” said March. “The Mercatorian government wanted Dr. Siegfried to help clean up the mess. Censor was amenable, but our Ministry of Defense wanted their own scientist to look at the problem. Hence, Dr. Melissa Northridge and her bodyguard Lieutenant Alan.”
“Rubbish,” said November. He took a draw on his cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Pity we can’t just smuggle a nuke onto Burnchain Station and blow it to hell. That would be the easiest way to deal with all of this.”
“It would,” said March, “though the station’s defenses would shoot us down before we got within ten thousand kilometers.”
“That would pose a problem,” said November. He leaned closer, his strange eyes intent. “You’ve changed, Jack.”
“It’s been…what, ten months since I last saw you?” said March.
“Ten months, one week, five days,” said November. “That business at Manzikert Station.”
“Yes,” said March. “People can change in that time.”
November nodded and leaned back. “I never expected to sa
y this…but you have a girlfriend, don’t you?”
March blinked, once.
“How did you know?” said March.
“I’ve known you for nine years,” said November. “In that time, I have observed you in every mood and in multiple situations. Yet this is the longest I have heard you go without cursing, and…”
“Oh, bullshit,” said March. “I’ve known you just as long, and I know when you’re playacting the genetically-modified eccentric genius. How did you really know?”
November blinked, and then barked his harsh laugh.
“Should’ve known better. My cabin.” He gestured with his cigarette. “When I unfolded my bunk, I found a garment that had fallen behind it.”
March frowned. “A garment?”
“Specifically, a brassiere.”
March blinked, and then rebuked himself. Adelaide had stayed in that cabin the last time she had been on the Tiger. He hadn’t bothered to check the cabin after she left, and she must have overlooked the brassiere when she packed her bags. It was like the mistake he had made with the camera in her kitchen.
He had to be more careful. Her judgment might be impaired enough to send him those detailed messages…but he was hardly immune from the same mistake.
“I’ll return it to her the next time I see her, then,” said March.
“Do that,” said November. “Also, I moved to the next cabin down. Hygiene is the paramount importance, and it does not take a genius to deduce what you were doing with her on that bunk.” He tapped some ash into an ashtray. “You probably shouldn’t tell me about her for reasons of operational security.”
“Agreed,” said March.
“Though I am surprised,” said November.
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