“Why, yes. Of course,” the voice answered, its artificial feelings soothed to some extent. “Ask me for further information any time you desire it.” With that, the voice went silent.
“So,” Maya asked, turning to Zara, “Why in the Goddess’ name, would I need all this when a plain, simple jacket would do?”
“Well, Maya, the JUDI sometimes does business with…odd folk,” Zara informed her. “The Captain likes us to be prepared for anything that might come up. You know, just like the Star Scouts, ‘always be ready’ and all that. That’s something I’d have thought you’d known about us ‘runners. Things can get a bit chancy in our line of work and it helps to have any kind of edge.”
Maya nodded, pretending to understand and accept Zara’s explanation. Although she’d never worked aboard a smuggler ship, she had also never heard of their crews being equipped with such a strange array of gadgets. Spies and realie-adventurers like Lana, the Longstar Ranger needed them, but not smugglers.
Then again, the JUDI was a unique ship, and it was just conceivable that Zara wasn’t having her on.
With any luck, she thought, I won’t be around long enough to need explosives or a grappling hook. And once I am gone, this jacket’s little secrets could come in very handy.
She smiled at the woman. “Well, I’m glad the Captain wants us all to be so prepared. I’ll have to thank her when we get back.”
The salesbot had made its reappearance during the jacket’s interactive tour and was waiting patiently for their attention. It held three jumpsuits in its arms, all neatly folded, along with a kit bag.
All of the articles were sky-blue in color, and Maya recalled seeing similar jumpsuits being worn by the JUDI’s crew at various points while she had been an unwilling guest aboard the ship. Most merchanters issued jumpsuits to their crews to use when they needed to perform the really dirty jobs, and also to act as a form of free advertising when they were in port. Sky-blue seemed to be the JUDI’s official color, and Maya took one of the suits from the ‘bot and examined its shoulder patches.
What she saw elicited a mixture of both humor and irritation. The round patch was also sky-blue with dark blue bordering. The name of the ship and its maritime registration number were displayed around the border: CSS C-JUDI-GO, 1692. This was normal enough.
But in the center of the patch was the silhouette of an old fashioned Gaian witch flying on her broomstick against the backdrop of a yellow crescent moon.
Of course, she thought, why should I even be surprised?
“It looks like Captain bel Lissa doesn’t mind the rumors that are in orbit about her ship and the Witch,” she observed aloud.
“Not in the least,” Zara replied. “Sometimes even bad publicity comes in handy. The witch story keeps a lot of nosy-bodies from bothering us too much, and makes the rest wonder from a distance, or go away thinking it’s all a yarn. Any way it plays out, it works for us.”
Too bad the witch isn’t just a story, Maya thought sourly.
***
They returned from their shopping expedition late in the day, and after a light dinner, Maya retired for the evening, thoroughly exhausted from the adventure.
The next morning, she discovered that she had the house all to herself. Captain bel Lissa and Zara had announced the night before that they had had business in the city, and Sarah was also gone, having vanished without providing any explanation.
Maya got herself some breakfast, and with nothing else better to do, went outside onto the lawn. To her surprise, Sarah and her teacher had left behind some of their training equipment from the day before, and she couldn’t resist picking up one of the twin daggers, and inspecting it.
The weapon proved to be just as sharp as she had surmised, but also surprisingly light. While she hefted it, she tried to remember some of the maneuvers that she had seen the day before, and then did her best to approximate a particularly vicious-looking parry and counterattack that Skylaar had employed. Her first attempt came close, but something felt wrong about it, and as she tried it again, she realized that it was her stance. It wasn’t the same as the Nemesian’s had been.
Experimentaly, she lowered her hips and rearranged her feet until she was sure she had assumed a fair approximation of what she’d seen. Then she gave the maneuver another try. Although her movements were not anywhere near as elegant as Skylaar’s, she could sense the difference as she swept the blade around, and grinned at her discovery.
A voice startled her. “That was very perceptive of you, Maya. Not many beginners realize that proper balance and footwork are more important than what your hands are doing.”
Maya spun around to see Skylaar standing there with her arms folded, and an appraising expression. The girl put the dagger down immediately and stepped away from it like a child who had been caught with something she had been forbidden to handle.
“Sarah’s not here,” she said.
“I am aware of that,” Skylaar replied. “I actually came to see you today.” If anything, this was an even greater surprise to Maya than her sudden appearance.
“Me?”
“Yes, you,” the woman answered with the straightforwardness that the Nemesians were famous for. “As you may have noticed, I train martial artists, and Sarah is one of my pupils. But I always have an eye open for anyone that might show promise.”
Maya was just as direct in her reply. “Did Sarah put you up to this?”
“She mentioned her offer,” Skylaar answered, “and also her hope that I would help, but it was I that decided to speak with you. I too feel that you have some potential, and I am the one who decides who will, and will not, be my students. What you do with her beyond that is your own affair.”
Maya regarded her uncertainly, suddenly at war with herself. She loathed the idea that Sarah had had a part in this, or that the woman would derive any satisfaction if she accepted Skylaar’s offer, but she also wanted what the Nemesian was offering.
“If her involvement in this matter offends you, I fully understand,” Skylaar said, “Please forgive me for any presumption on my part. I will not bother you any further.” With that, she began to gather up the training equipment.
“Yes—I mean--no,” Maya stammered, finally decided. “Please, stay.”
Skylaar stopped and set everything back down, keeping only a single dagger. “Very well. I shall. Now, may I offer you some knowledge?”
Maya nodded.
“If you are going to fight with a knife, you should learn to fight with it correctly. I gather that you have had some fighting experience?”
“Some,” Maya said with a hint of defensiveness. “I’ve been in a few scrapes.”
Skylaar considered the blade. “Experience is always a valuable weapon,” she said. “The only danger is when that weapon is poorly crafted, or mishandled.” She offered it to Maya. “Please, instruct me. Show me something of what you know with this.”
“But-”
“Please,” Skylaar insisted. “I am always eager to learn new techniques.”
Maya took the dagger from her, and thought for a moment about what she’d seen on the street. Then she remembered a particularly nasty fight she’d witnessed on Delgen, and went into a crouch.
Skylaar simply stood there, waiting. Her expression was calmness itself.
Without warning, Maya lunged forwards, thrusting out with the knife. Halfway to Skylaar, she traded knife-hands and swept in and underneath for a strike at the woman’s midsection.
The blade never made contact. At the last possible second, the Nemesian pivoted on her left leg and swept around with her right. The outside edge of her foot struck Maya’s wrist along the tendon, making it spasm. The dagger fell from her hands, and Skylaar let her foot drop and leaned forwards, loosely grasping what had been Maya’s knife hand as she brought her other hand palm-upwards, and lightly brushed the girl’s chin. Then she froze.
“With that combination, I was able to disarm you, and had I followed through, I cou
ld have delivered a palm-strike to your jaw,” the Nemesian informed her.
“If my strike had hit you one way, I could have simply stunned you. Placed in another manner, and I could have snapped your neck. The choice was mine.” Then she stepped back. “Would you like to see how it was done, step by step?”
“Yes,” Maya answered, deeply impressed. “I would.”
“It would be my pleasure, Cho-sena. Let us begin with the crossing side-kick that I used.”
Their session lasted an hour, and at the end of it, Maya was exhausted but exhilarated. The side-kick had taken some work, and although it was as far from perfect as possible, she finished their session feeling that she had learned a tremendous amount in a short time, and said as much.
“That is where the trail through the forest really begins,” Skylaar said. “Once you realize that you know only a tiny fraction of its length, then you might actually have the chance to learn just how far it truly extends.”
With this, the woman bent down and began to gather up her weapons. “I hope that you will allow me to return here again tomorrow.”
“Why, yes,” Maya answered, both surprised and pleased. “Yes, of course. Please come back, Sen-sena…”
“Sena-Tai,” Skylaar said. “It is Nemesian and it means ‘She Who Learns,’ and it would be my great pleasure, Cho-sena.”
“Yes, Sena-tai,” Maya replied. As Skylaar turned to leave, she asked, “Sena-Tai, what does Cho-sena mean?”
The woman smiled. “It means, ‘She Who Teaches.’ Please, practice your crossing sidekick. I would like to learn more from you.”
Apollonia District, Thermadon City, Thermadon, Myrene System, Thalestris Elant, United Sisterhood of Suns, 1042.12|09|00:01:66
Sarah parked her hovercar in an alley, and watched the movement of the traffic on the streets around her. She wasn’t overly thrilled to be back in Thermadon, but the JUDI’s business had required her deft hand, and the DNI had supplied the contact. They had guaranteed that the woman she was about to meet was not a part of any professional gang, but Sarah was not about to accept their word on its face alone. Even with relative amateurs, there was always the potential for danger, and the DNI was known to be wrong from time to time.
She reached out with her mind and felt around her. As near as she could tell, her contact was still some distance away, and hadn’t entered the area yet. And other than the two of them, there were only a few women nearby that were still awake, and none of them raised any mental alarms. But after her encounter in the park, she was not about to let herself relax based just upon this alone.
Aria, engage proximity alarm, she thought to the car. And link in with the ‘Plexi and give me a population display of the area.
Yes, Mistress,” the car responded. Would you also like me to engage any weapons systems? I was very bored sitting in the garage, and I wouldn’t mind a fight if one came our way.
I’m sure that you wouldn’t, Sarah replied. But we are not here to pick one. Passive defense only, and please send the ‘Plexi data to the dash HUD.
Yes, Mistress, the vehicle answered. There was a decidedly disappointed tone to its reply and Sarah pointedly ignored it. Instead, she focused her attention on the display before her.
Like many large cities in the Sisterhood, Thermadon used satellites to monitor its population, and their movements. Among other things, this allowed the city’s AI to make adjustments to vital services based on population density.
As residents shifted from one area to the next, the information that the satellites provided to the omniplex allowed the city’s AI to change traffic controls, and redirect water and power to where they were needed the most. It also furnished Sarah with a real-time map of every woman in the surrounding sub-district that she could check against what she felt.
From what she could see, her talents had perceived the situation accurately. There were no people that she hadn’t expected to find, and they all appeared to be going about their legitimate business.
There was still the slim chance that enemy agents had tapped into the local ‘Plexi, and had simply deleted their presence from the datastream, just as she did whenever she visited the spaceport, but things looked quiet. She earnestly hoped that they actually were, and would stay that way.
After several minutes, she spotted her contact walking down the street. According to the DNI, the woman was a non-commissioned Naval Officer, and despite the fact that she had dressed in civilian clothes, her short regulation haircut betrayed her profession immediately.
Engage engine, she instructed. The vehicle started up and moved out from its hover position in the shadows. Sarah flashed her headlights at the sailor and brought the vehicle down to street level, opening the passenger door at the same time.
Startled, the woman jumped back, and Sarah took charge of the situation immediately. “Get in,” she ordered.
The sailor obeyed and threw herself into the passenger’s bucket seat. Her clothing smelled of rain and the musty odor of long periods of storage.
“Are you Mariner n’Fari?” Sarah asked. There was something about the sailor, she suddenly realized. Nothing threatening certainly, but a strange cloudiness to her aura that made her seem a bit off.
“Yes,” N’Fari replied. “Do you want to scan my military ID?” She began to roll down her sleeve to expose her biochip, and in the process revealed an arm covered in small scars. Some of them were quite old and others were clearly fresh, and just beginning to scab over.
Sarah grabbed her arm and held it. And as she did so, she felt the woman for the briefest of seconds, corroborating what she had suspected and also providing the reason why the sailor had been so willing to go ahead with their transaction. She was a cutter, a glass addict. The insidious drug had worked its evil on her, and distorted her bioplasmic energy field.
“No, that will not be necessary,” Sarah said, letting her go with obvious distaste. “Let’s get this over with.” She reached into her cape and brought out the credit chip that she had prepared for the meeting. “I am offering 40,000 credits for one T-190 Anti-ship Torpedo. I understand that you have one to sell me.”
“Planning a little upgrade on your ship?” N’Fari asked, attempting to inject some levity.
Sarah was not amused. “If you want to leave this meeting alive,” she warned, “then you would be best advised to curb your curiosity.” To her satisfaction, her passenger paled.
“I-I’m not sure that’s enough for one of those,” the sailor finally said with a shaky voice.
“40,000 is what was agreed.”
“Make it 50,000 and you have the torpedo,” N’Fari countered.
Sarah nodded. “You have a deal.” She dropped the credit chip into the addict’s trembling hand, and then added another. It had been pre-programmed for 10,000 credits. One of the benefits of having talents was the ability to predict exactly how a deal would conclude.
“We’ll send it out for testing at the weapons range,” N’Fari volunteered. “Fomalhaut has one on its third moon and no one will suspect a shipment like that. We have a contact there that will help you get the torpedo before it arrives at the range.”
She talked too much for Sarah’s liking. “Remember this,” she said to her in her deadliest tone. “No one will care overmuch if you and your cutter friends disappear. Make sure you do exactly as you have promised.”
N’Fari cringed, earning an evil smile from Sarah.
“It will be at Fomalhaut by the end of the next month,” the sailor assured her. “We’ll contact you and tell you where you can pick it up.”
“I am certain that you will.”
With that, Sarah opened the car door, and N’Fari stepped out without having to be told. As she backed away from the vehicle, Sarah re-closed the passenger door and engaged the car’s flight controls.
Link me with the omni, Interplex, she instructed.
She sent a message to Bel Lissa in Ashkele with the news. Next, she placed an order for a white rose to
be delivered to a specific address in the city, and then headed for Jackie’s.
***
The white rose had been a signal to her employers that she wanted a face-to-face meeting. Sarah had only used it a few times in her career, but she considered the business that was on her mind important enough to make the request.
While she sat in her private booth and waited, she considered her decision and did not find it wanting. The only thing that remained was to put her plans into motion with her employers.
She was just taking her last sip of her wine, when their representative made her appearance. Jackie was at the bar as always, and when the woman asked after Sarah, the bar owner smiled and pointed her out, assuming that she was the mystery lover that had been sending all the black roses.
Sarah made sure to smile warmly as the woman approached, and even added the extra touch of hugging her and planting a kiss on her lips. The representative was enough of a professional to respond with equal enthusiasm, and let Sarah guide her into the booth. While the pair sat together and made the typical small talk that lovers engaged in, they communicated with each other using their psievers on an encrypted channel.
You requested a meeting, her guest thought. Has there been a problem with the delivery? Even though there was an infinitesimal chance that Jackie’s surveillance systems might intercept the conversation, she was taking no chances and had kept her words vague.
None whatsoever, Sarah replied, with equal obscurity. We will have it within the month, and you can expect delivery shortly after that time. My business tonight concerns another matter; Hari n’Sarolyn and her tenure aboard the JUDI.
Go ahead, the woman responded, squeezing Sarah’s hands and giving her a loving expression. Her mental tone however, remained serious and businesslike.
Sarah put an arm around her. I feel that she has become unreliable and careless, particularly with regard to our security measures. The Captain and I have discussed this, and we believe that N’Sarolyn is a liability. As you are aware, we have complained about her before, and now I wish to replace her with someone else.
Sisterhood of Suns: Pallas Athena Page 21
