The Tam-illee smiled. “You and me both. Now unless there’s anything else...? No? The ensign outside can escort you both to the Pad room.”
“Thanks,” Reese said. “I’ll be waiting for the signal.” She stepped outside, paused to allow the ensign to gather them with his eyes, and then started after him. She had resolved to remain silent, but the dogged presence of the Eldritch at her back nagged at her until the words broke loose. “This is a bad idea.”
“Chasing pirates, slavers, thieves and killers?” Hirianthial said. “I find no part of it objectionable.”
“Not that part! The ‘you coming along’ part,” Reese said. “You’re barely out of bed! Not only that, but you’re not a killer! What good is a pacifist bodyguard?”
“Be careful what you assume, lady,” he said, and something in his voice, some hint of a husk, put the hair on the back of her neck up. Then, with a lighter tone he said, “I have more than one ability to apply to the situation.”
“Yeah, let’s talk about that,” Reese said. “I thought you said you don’t read people’s minds.”
“It is considered immoral,” Hirianthial said.
“Doesn’t seem to stop you,” Reese said.
A whirl of white and the jingle of a prayer bell and he was standing in front of her, so abruptly she almost ran into him. Reese stopped only a few inches short of his stomach, and though at this angle she had to crane her neck to look at him she decided to do that rather than backpedal. She raised her head.
Long ago—far longer than the actual passage of the days—she’d sat beside him in a straw-filled cell and watched a look cross his face that had not belonged on a healer. She remembered being glad that look hadn’t been directed at her. Faced fully with it now, she didn’t stumble away because fear petrified every part of her but her hands, which started shaking. His habit of looking at someone completely was bad enough. She didn’t want to know that his eyes could make her heart palpitate and sweat pop from her skin.
Before her knees could loosen and dump her to the floor, Hirianthial twisted his head aside and closed his eyes. He visibly composed himself; she could almost see the anger draining away. He straightened, stepped to one side and said, “I find myself unmoved by ethical arguments when they protect men I already know are criminals.”
Just like that, he was Hirianthial again, the doctor who wouldn’t kill anyone even seemingly in self-defense, the annoying Eldritch who’d fished around in her mind and pulled out her deepest secrets. That she had to force her shaking legs to propel her after the silent ensign only added to her rage. By the time they reached the Pad room, she was ready to throttle him.
The greeting Sascha started to voice died as he opened his mouth. “Err... do I want to know?”
“No,” Reese snarled.
“Riiight,” Sascha said.
“Are you sure no one’s hailed us?” Reese asked, standing behind Sascha on the bridge of the Earthrise. In the portals space had given way to sky.
“Not a peep,” Irine said from her chair.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Reese said. “They should have challenged us fifteen minutes ago.”
“They don’t know yet that we’re not planning to dump the cargo out of the holds and lift off again,” Sascha said. “My bet is they won’t start complaining until we show up on their doorstep.”
“I hope you’re right,” Reese said, gripping the back of the chair so hard her fingers ached. She had dressed in her normal jumpsuit and ribbed blue, orange and black vest, having decided that the stereotypical mercenary outfits depicted in movies couldn’t possibly be accurate, and even if they were she couldn’t have carried one off. Irine had wedged the pin with its bead into the rolled hem along the vest’s collar and gotten Kis’eh’t to synthesize a twin black bead for the opposite side. The goods Fleet had sent over with its three-person team had already been distributed: weapons for everyone, perimeter cordon kits for their landing site and DNA locks for the boxes that would give Reese an edge in negotiations—she hoped.
They set down without incident. For once, there was no landing chatter, no immediate unbuckling of safety harnesses, no movement at all. All four of them remained where they sat and stared out the windows.
“I guess this is it,” Irine said.
“I guess it is,” Reese said and reluctantly wiggled out of the harness. “Kis’eh’t, you’re in charge. Keep our Fleet visitors entertained.”
“I’ll do that,” Kis’eh’t said.
“Irine, Sascha... let’s go.”
In the cargo hold, the boxes had already been loaded onto their sledges. Bryer stood beside one of them, dressed in more clothing than she’d ever seen on him: not just crimson pants of tanned hide, but a matching vest laced at the sides instead of down the front, cut low enough to loop beneath the intersection of his wings and his body. Bright red feathers were interwoven throughout his crest and tail. The color and arrangement should have made the Phoenix resemble a puffed-up gaudy bird; instead it gave his spiked crest a menacing flare while reminding Reese pointedly of spilled blood.
Standing beside Bryer’s riotous presentation, Hirianthial should have faded into the wall, but he didn’t. He wore white from wrist to ankle: white blouse, white pants, white tabard, even white boots. His single colored accent was the hint of the dangle the crew had woven him, resting near skin revealed against the blouse as even paler than white cloth. Colors made Hirianthial seem, if not human, then at least not as alien. Seeing him in all white...
“Oh wow,” Irine said.
Neither of them smiled. Or even moved.
“Oh, come on,” Reese said, exasperated at her own reaction. “We know you’re unsettling so you can stop trying now.”
“Leave them alone,” Sascha said. “They’re doing their jobs. Don’t ask them to joke about it.”
Reese eyed him. “I’m not actually a mercenary ice princess, remember?”
“That’s true, you’re not,” Sascha said, double-checking his palmer and then walking to the nearest pallet. “But they’re actually your bodyguards.”
“This is ridiculous,” Reese said.
“Can we just get moving?” Irine asked. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll get this over with.” She grinned, though a little more wanly than her wont. “Some of those Fleet boys were too cute.”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
They exited the cargo hold, walking past the Fleet officers who, dressed in mufti, were setting up the perimeter alarms. Their destination was ten minutes southeast of the Earthrise’s site down a narrow paved path that connected one of the major settlements on-planet with some of its farms.
“So this is the Barris,” Sascha said, pushing the dolly along while gazing at the scrubby fields bordering the street.
“It’s ugly,” Irine said. “And hot. There’s not even a breeze. How come they always choose these ugly places?”
“Maybe because no one else wants them,” Reese said, staring at Sascha’s back. As the leader she should have been in the front but one look at the vast nothingness from horizon to horizon had given her a panic attack. She hated open spaces, and the barns she saw dotted across the landscape only emphasized the emptiness somehow. Staying near the middle of the group kept the anxiety at a manageable level, so she’d taken over the dolly-pushing duty from Bryer, who’d relinquished it without fuss. Nor had the twins objected. It made her suspicious of them all.
“It’s not ugly,” Sascha said. “It’s just wild.”
“Wild is bad,” Reese said. “I’m all for the civilizing influence of concrete, steel and glass.”
“That should make you feel better then,” the Harat-Shar said, pointing.
NotAgain had warned them not to expect a city, but even so the collection of warehouses clustered around the office building looked ridiculous. The campus wouldn’t have looked out-of-place on the fringe of a bustling port, but to have it in the middle of nowhere... they might as well have plastered “Pirate Hang-O
ut” signs on it.
“Where does everyone live?” Reese asked. “Underground in a bunker?”
“You never know,” Sascha said.
“What’s wrong with living underground?” Irine asked.
By the time they reached the office building, Reese’s body ached from steering the box and her mind ached from listening to the twins’ banter. The unrelenting silence from the two men following her had heightened her anxiety, and perhaps that was for the best. When they were stopped at the doors, Reese discovered all her fear had been transformed into belligerence.
“Thanks,” the human woman at the door said. “If you’ll leave the boxes here we’ll have someone take them to the warehouses.”
“Fine,” Reese said. “I’ll see your boss now.”
She smiled a very unconvincing smile down at Reese. “I’m afraid he’s busy.”
Reese nodded. “I’m sure he is. So am I. This won’t take long.”
“Perhaps you misunderstood me,” the woman said. “Mr. Surapinet doesn’t see people without an appointment.”
“And twenty thousand fin says I have an appointment with him,” Reese said. “So be a nice secretary and let me in.”
Her eyes grew icy. “In case you hadn’t noticed, ma’am, your only currency with Mr. Surapinet is being wheeled away.”
Reese chuckled. “Yes, and it’s nice of them to do the work for us. But if your boss actually wants to open the boxes without reducing their contents to cinders, he’ll see me before I start getting too hot and demanding a drink.”
The woman glanced at the boxes sharply.
“Go ahead,” Reese said. “Check for yourself. They’re DNA-locked.”
The woman followed the boxes, which by now were halfway to an adjacent warehouse. Reese leaned against the wall and watched.
“So far so good,” Sascha said.
Reese shrugged.
When the woman returned her composed expression did not disguise the anger in her eyes. She forced a grin that showed more teeth than welcome and said, “If you’ll step into the foyer I’ll tell Mr. Surapinet you’re here while our security guards examine you. You do know we don’t allow people like you into our offices without a weapons search?”
“I’m not surprised,” Reese said.
The woman nodded. “This way, please.”
The first room inside the building turned out to be the foyer: a room decorated in monochrome with a gray carpet, lighter gray walls, and black leather couches facing steel and brushed metal coffee tables. A receptionist’s desk repeated the theme, as did the two men guarding the hallway, dressed in gray uniforms with black accents. The woman whispered to them before vanishing down the hallway.
The men advanced on them. Before they could step up to her, Reese said, “I sincerely hope you’re not going to pat us down like crime suspects.”
They paused. The taller of the two cleared his throat and said. “We have a wand, ma’am.”
“Good,” Reese said. “I don’t want either of you touching me.”
They ignored her and went to work. Her heart pounded as the wand passed over her chest, but it didn’t beep until it found the palmer on her belt. Reese handed it over. She had never fired a weapon but she wasn’t comfortable with being unarmed either.
Irine and Sascha gave up their weapons as well. Waving the wand over Bryer came up with nothing—likewise over Hirianthial. The guards consulted, then said to Reese, “We’d like to check these two further.”
Reese snorted. “Good work. You’ve identified the dangerous people in the group. Unfortunately, what makes them dangerous can’t be taken away from them. Unless you want to de-claw the Phoenix and lobotomize the Eldritch.”
“Our wand doesn’t pick up all kinds of weapons. We’d like to search.”
“Go ahead,” Bryer said suddenly.
The guards patted him down, awkward around the wings and tail as if not sure how to check the feathers without breaking them. Their search found nothing, so they turned to Hirianthial.
“No,” Hirianthial said. “You will not touch me.”
Reese almost said, “What a fine way to make them want to,” but to her surprise one of the guards stepped back and the other hesitated, then said, “He looks clean.”
“He could be hiding something,” the other said.
The first guard looked at Hirianthial, then shrugged. “What’s he going to have... a rifle? I don’t want to touch him. I don’t want him rummaging in my mind.”
The second guard snorted and moved away. When the woman returned, he said, “They’re clear to go.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Come with me, please.”
Past the foyer the carpet switched to black and the walls to dark gray paint with steel ribs, giving Reese the uncomfortable impression of walking through a poorly lit ship’s corridor. The elevator trip was even worse, since only half of them could squeeze in at a time: Irine and Sascha went first with their guide and Reese went up last with her “bodyguards.” They exited at the top of the building, so Reese was not at all surprised to be led to a corner suite. It was twice the size of her mess hall; two of its walls were clear glass panels, and a minimum of clutter in the room gave onlookers an unparalleled view of the landscape. If only there had been something worth looking at.
The man behind the desk was human, tan with bleached hair. He didn’t look old enough to be running a multi-planet crime ring until Reese met his eyes and felt the force of their appraisal.
“Captain Eddings,” he said. “I’m Marlane Surapinet. Do step all the way inside so my men can close the door.” He smiled. “For privacy.”
“Of course,” Reese said, glancing at the guards. These two made the ones downstairs look like guard-impersonators.
“I’m glad to have the pleasure of meeting you in person,” Surapinet said. “I admit I’m not sure why you insisted. The money will be in your account as soon as we verify the integrity of the goods you’ve delivered.”
“I insisted because you irritated me,” Reese said. “And I like to clear up irritations with people I work with.”
He cocked his head. “An irritation.”
“You sent people to check up on me,” Reese said. “People I had to subsequently deal with.” She folded her arms. “I don’t like being tailed and I don’t like having to waste time and energy dealing with tails.”
His brows lifted. “You didn’t expect me to leave you unwatched, Captain Eddings? I’d never hired you before.”
“You bought my ship, my sweat and my silence,” Reese said. “You asked for a lot, but you paid good money for it. And then you disrespected my integrity. I don’t like that in an employer, Mr. Surapinet.”
“I see,” he replied. “So you put paid to the tail, is that your story?”
“Have they come round since they waylaid me?” Reese asked.
Surapinet said nothing. Then he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “You sound as if you’d like me to continue to be your employer.”
“I might,” Reese said. “It depends on how fair you’re going to play.”
He smiled. “I always play fair with my associates. My word is my bond, Captain Eddings.”
“And that’s why you set two vessels on me,” Reese said. If she concentrated on her anger it made it easier to ignore her terror.
“I set those vessels on you precisely because I am a man of my word... living in a universe where few people keep theirs,” he said. “Surely you’ve been burned yourself. We honest people are so few.”
“I still feel disrespected,” Reese said. “And the damage I sustained squashing your over-zealous heavies is going to bite into my profit margin.”
He studied her. “And what would settle this between us?”
“You could give me a cut of the sales,” Reese said. “Let’s stop playing pretend, Mr. Surapinet. Even one of those crystals is going to net you more in wet sales than the lump sum you’re paying me. I hardly think that’s fai
r since I’m the one Fleet will be chasing if they hear even the faintest rumor that those crystals might be classified by a bleeding heart researcher as thinking beings.”
“And now we’re a chemist as well as a merchant?” Surapinet said.
“I have good people working for me,” Reese said.
“Ah yes,” Surapinet said, eyes flicking past her shoulder. “Good people.” He leaned forward. “How’s this deal, Captain. You get half my profits from the wet sales—”
Her brows lifted.
“—and I get the Eldritch.”
“No.” She said it before she could think about it.
“No?” the man said, and she didn’t like his tone at all.
“He’s my Eldritch, no matter how scrawny,” Reese said. “He’s not for sale.”
“That’s too bad,” Surapinet said. “He’s a wanted man in our organization.” A thin smile. “I’ll pass you some of the profit from his sale, if you like.”
“It’s not about the money,” Reese said testily. Surapinet’s sharpened gaze made her aware of just how close she was to breaking cover. She made herself relax, sigh, run a hand through her hair. “Look, I don’t want to give him up... yet. I’m having too much fun with him, if you know what I mean.”
Both his eyebrows arched. “Why, Captain, are you saying you and he are lovers?”
Reese didn’t need to fake her derision. “Hardly. He’s a toy, not a lover. But he’s a very, very good toy. I guess being psychic means he always knows exactly what I want.” She tried mimicking one of the lazy smiles she’d caught on the twins’ faces. “I’ll sell him when I get bored, but I’m not bored yet. If you want exclusive rights when I do decide to give him up, I’m amenable to that.”
“It’s so nice to talk with a fellow professional,” Surapinet said. “Although you understand that I simply can’t give you as much if I don’t get the Eldritch immediately.”
“That’s fine,” Reese said. “I’ll settle for a quarter of the wet profits and a half-stake in the final sale if you exercise the option to buy him later.”
Earthrise (Her Instruments Book 1) Page 35
