Marcus stepped in front of Wynny. “Thank you. We appreciate the food you’ve brought us.”
“Nice. Now apologize for the two men who died catching it for you.” The sailor loomed over Marcus, hands at his waist.
The spacer didn’t give ground. He tilted his head up to look the Jaaphisii in the eye. “I’m sorry you lost your friends. We weren’t told about it.”
Marcus felt relief as the stranger pivoted away from him. He could hear Wynny talking into her screen.
“How about you, tallboy? Are you sorry?” The Jaaphisii focused on Tets now. The mechanic was an inch or two taller. The sailor displayed muscle earned hauling on ropes and climbing masts.
Tets displayed his palms in a conciliatory pose. “Sure. I’m sorry you lost your guys. I’ll pour a drink out for them.”
“And will you buy me a drink?”
“Yes. Next time we’re in a bar together.”
“Liar.” The Jaaphisii slammed both fists into Tets’ gut. The mechanic had expected more insults first. He landed on his ass.
“Hey!” Marcus charged forward, grabbed the Jaaphisii’s arm, and tried to pull him off balance. It was like tugging on a tree branch. A yank from the arm sent his face into the wall of the corridor. Stars filled his vision as he slid down to his knees.
Tets sprang back to his feet and swung at the attacker. Both men landed more blows than they blocked. Drops of red blood landed on the wrapped yellow meat.
Marcus pushed on the wall to get back to his feet. He watched the fight as his head cleared. There was no way he wanted to be in the middle of the blows, he’d be crushed.
As the sailor dodged one of Tets’ attacks Marcus saw his chance. He kicked out, catching the back of the Jaaphisii’s knee.
The stumble wasn’t large but it let Tets slip the edge of his hand through to slam on the sailor’s neck. That made the stumble a stagger. A double-handed blow on the neck sent the Jaaphisii limp to the floor.
Tets bent over, hands on knees, to catch his breath. “Thanks for,” pant, “the assist.”
“No problem. You okay?”
“I’ve had worse.” Tets poked at a split on his lip.
Marcus flinched as Wynny shoved a handkerchief into his face.
“You’re bleeding,” she cried.
Marcus tried to hold still under the scrubbing. “It’s just my nose.”
“How can you tell? There’s blood all over your face. Didn’t your father ever tell you to pick on people your own size?”
“No. He taught me to take care of our crew.”
Wynny rolled her eyes. “Men.”
Flashing lights announced the arrival of a police floater. Two policewomen in riot gear stood on an open platform, holding the railing on the front edge.
“A Jaaphisii started the brawl early,” called Wynny.
A cop laughed. “Haven’t even opened up the booze yet. Looks like you handled him. Let’s load him up.”
Marcus found himself holding the Jaaphisii’s feet while Tets hauled on his shoulders. They dumped him roughly onto the floater. One cop wrapped a wire loosely around the brawler’s wrists. The other inspected the men’s hands and faces.
“Ow,” said Tets. “Gently on the knuckles please.”
“Just checking who did the work. Excuse me a moment. Don’t go anywhere.” The two policewomen began a whispered conversation.
Tets leaned down to ask Marcus, “Are we in trouble?”
“Don’t think so. Self-defense. Local witness on our side. We might have a lot of paperwork to fill out.”
The cop who’d examined them took off her helmet, revealing long braids of red-brown hair wound around her skull. She hung her torso armor on the railing of the floater. The black fatigues underneath clung to a curvy figure.
She waved Marcus away. He retreated to stand next to Wynny.
“I’m Hywel,” said the cop. “What’s your name?”
“Tets Longshore.”
“You handled that pretty well. Have you dealt with obnoxious drunks before?”
“I’ve been in a few brawls. I never throw the first punch.”
Marcus noticed the cop lifting her hands to fiddle with the fatigues. Wynny was turning her head away to hide a smirk.
Hywel asked, “Are you trained in martial arts?”
“No, just learned the hard way.” Tets leaned back as the cop pressed into his personal space. “Got tired of being beat up.”
“Have you ever thought of being a police officer?”
She grabbed the corners of her collar with both hands and spread them apart. The unbuttoned front of her fatigues flipped open. Marcus couldn’t see what was underneath with her back to him. He could see Tets’ eyes widen as he stared, snap back up to the cop’s face, then drop down again.
Hywel continued, “I’d be happy to bring you into the police force. We could talk about it later when I get off shift.”
“Um . . . well, I’d like that . . . maybe . . . I don’t know,” stammered Tets.
“You’re not married, or engaged, are you?”
“Oh, no.”
“So . . . who should my uncle talk to?”
Tets didn’t have an answer to that. But she did have his full attention.
Wynny broke in. “His family head is dining at Goch Home tonight. That’s what this filet is for.”
“That’s good, thank you.”
The other policewoman yelled, “We got a brawl at entry thirty-four delta.”
Hywel took a couple steps backwards. “Drop me a line, okay?” She blew Tets a kiss then turned and trotted to the floater, buttoning her fatigues as she went.
She was still donning the riot gear as the floater disappeared around a bend.
“Did she want a job interview or a date?” asked Tets plaintively.
Wynny cocked her head. “What’s the difference?”
The boys traded looks. Neither wanted to try answering.
“Anyway, thank you both for dealing with that Jaaphisii. I wouldn’t have liked being alone when he came out of that corridor.” She picked up the leash of the mini-floater and started walking.
The spacers followed.
***
It hadn’t taken much work for Landry to get Vychan complaining about Censorial taxes. “And it’s obvious they make it that complicated to just humiliate us. They’d extract more money if they didn’t put us through all the hoop-jumping.”
The hatch opened, letting in Wynny, a floating slab of meat, and his son and the man who was supposed to protect him, both bloody from a beating.
Landry’s chair clattered to the floor as he snapped to his feet. “What did you do?” he demanded of Tets.
Marcus stepped between them. “Captain, it’s not his fault. A fisherman attacked us.”
Wynny said, “A Jaaphisii wanted the blood tax.”
“Ah. My apologies, gentlemen,” said Vychan. “I should have sent more with you. Normally the nomads don’t start such behavior until after midnight.”
“Don’t worry, we’re fine. It looks worse than it is.” The last part of Marcus’ protest was muffled as a matron with a first aid kit started cleaning his face.
A boy picked up Landry’s chair and held it as the captain sat back down.
Vychan leaned close. “I apologize again. It must be a shock to see your boy hurt. I promise we’ll take good care of him.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry. I expected things to be more civilized here.”
“The city is civilized. The Jaaphisii are barbarous. Most can’t even read. They spend their time at sea under total discipline. Then they come here, sell their catch, and drink, fight, and screw until the money’s all spent.”
Landry glanced at his boys. They were donning clean shirts. “I’m surprised you let barbarians in your city.”
“Some cities don’t. They eat vatmeat and vegetables. We want better food. The price is taverns with busted furniture and men beaten senseless. Plus a few parts and radios for their ships
.”
“Who’d be stupid enough to go brawl with those maniacs?”
Vychan’s eyes flicked up. A smirk appeared and disappeared as quickly. “Jaaphisii women love winners,” he whispered.
“Ah.”
“I’ll say this for them,” he said in a normal tone. “It’s the perfect tax avoidance scheme. No cash retained to pay taxes with. No records for a headcount. No permanent residence. Market value of their ships is zero. They’re totally free from the Censorials.”
Landry chuckled. “Ever think of running off to sea?”
“All the young and foolish think it. But it’s a hard and dangerous life for those born to it. Learning it as an adult. Well. The Jaaphisii take volunteers. And tell the sad story on their next port call.”
Landry thought on that as he looked around the room. The ‘living room’ of the Goch home had room for all eighty-some Gochs to sit down for a meal together, plus a couple of dozen guests. At the far end was an open kitchen, now producing the scent of frying meat instead of roasting vegetables. The sides were walled off (the first vertical wall he’d seen since leaving his ship) for private bedrooms and suites. Hallways led off to more rooms elsewhere.
Bells chimed at the hatch. A teenage boy let in a uniformed man. The boy pointed toward Landry.
The captain cursed under his breath as the uniformed stranger marched toward him. How much trouble are those boys in?
Vychan made the introductions. “Captain, this is Chief Owerth of the East Side Police. Chief, Niko Landry, master of the merchant ship Azure Tarn.”
The handshake was firm. People moved away to give Owerth a seat and the illusion of privacy.
“I understand the man Tets is one of your crew?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How would you describe him?”
“Cheerful, hard-working, enthusiastic. Not a trouble-maker in any way.” Also lazy and easily distracted but I’m not telling you that.
“Good. We’re very impressed by his performance earlier. The Jaaphisii need to remember that going outside the boundaries just makes it worse for them.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Is Tets married? Or have an engagement or intention for marriage?”
“No, not married. And I haven’t heard of any plans.” Landry was certain any marriage with Tets would involve a dozen bottles of whiskey to generate that bad an idea.
“My niece Hywel is taken with him. She’s a pretty girl, said he seemed to like her too. If he joins the police I promise he’ll be a full officer. Once he has all his training he’ll have full legal authority. If he does well and works hard he could have my job someday.”
Landry couldn’t tell if he was having culture shock or just was misunderstanding the local accent. What did this niece wanting a date have to do with recruiting Tets as a cop, and why would either one be brought to Landry first? He settled for saying, “I don’t understand.”
“Well, what’s confusing about it? We’ll pay a good wed-price for him.”
Anger flared in Landry. “I’ll be damned if I’ll sell one—”
Vychan leaned in between the two of them, putting a hand on Landry’s. “Gentlemen, if you’ll forgive my interruption, I think I can help resolve the confusion.”
He waited until Landry and Chief Owerth settled down before continuing. “The captain doesn’t know of marriage plans for Tets because it’s not him who makes the plans. It’s your aunt, if I remember right, yes?”
Landry didn’t understand this but trusted Vychan enough to give a nod.
“So you see, Chief, the captain won’t know if Tets is available until they return to their homeworld. No offense to your lovely young lady, or fuss over the wed-price. It’s just travel.”
“That’s a shame. If he is still available I can’t guarantee Hywel will be unwed when you next visit our world. I’d be delighted to introduce him to other young ladies of the police.”
“Thank you,” was the safest thing Landry could think of to say.
The police chief stood up and adjusted his equipment belt. “I’ve my own share of Jaaphisii heads to break tonight. Best get back to it.”
“You’re not dining with us?” said Vychan.
“Too much work and not enough of us to do it. Which is why I’d like your Tets on the force, Captain. Well met.”
When the hatch slammed shut behind the policeman Vychan’s wife Emlyn said, “They are getting desperate if they’re entrapping off-worlders.”
Laughter went up among the tables. Wynny said, “Officer Hywel was young for an old maid they need to bid higher for,” to even more laughter.
Vychan took pity on Landry’s confusion. “It’s been a joke here for years. The police need big strong men to deal with the brawlers, right? Well in Wynny’s generation all their children were girls. Nearly two dozen girls in a row. Good at policing in normal times but they don’t scare the Jaaphisii into behaving. Owerth is searching for husbands to beef up his force.”
That fit with the other piece Landry had heard, but— “To be a cop here you have to be born into it, or marry in?”
A teenage girl ladled some leafy vegetables onto their plates. A boy following behind added stir-fried kraken.
“Aye. Just as your son was born into flying a ship and your wife married into it.” Vychan dug in.
Landry followed his example. The meat was intensely savory, with just enough sour overtone to keep it from overwhelming him. Landry chewed slowly to appreciate it. “Yes, but that’s unusual on Fiera. Most businesses are unrelated people working together.”
Vychan nodded. “You’re like the Censorials then. We see their inefficiency. No one is motivated to help each other by relationships so they have to use bribery and favor-trading to get cooperation.”
“It works for us,” said Landry defensively.
“Oh, I’m not criticizing you, I apologize if I sounded like that. I’m just happy to work with my family.”
The captain waved at the crowd. “Everyone here is a broker?”
“More work in the warehouses than the brokerage. And Goch Home takes much work to run. But yes, we’re all one business.”
He pointed at his daughter, laughing at something Marcus said. “Look at Wynny. She could be an accountant at the brokerage or do inventory in a warehouse. When she marries we’ll teach her husband to drive a fork-lift. Or if she marries out we’ll have the wed-price to cover the losses while someone else learns the work.”
Another delicious bite of kraken gave Landry time to think about this. “How does it work for big companies?”
Vychan shrugged. “There’s not many bigger than two hundred. A family of three or four hundred has a lot of bickering. They’ll split it into two companies.”
“Sir?” Tets stood by Landry. “Am I in trouble?”
Landry let him sweat a moment before answering. “He wanted to give you a life sentence . . . but I talked him out of it.”
The mechanic gulped. “Um, thank you, sir.”
“Enjoy your meal.”
Tets retreated back to the table holding the twenty-somethings.
“We’re showing you more of the world than I planned,” said Vychan. “I hope you’re enjoying it.”
“I am. We came here to learn.” He took another bite of the salty vegetables, and finally placed when he’d eaten something similar. “Is this seaweed?”
“Aye. The shoalers around here farm it, and they’re cheaper than the hydroponics produce. Mostly by evading the Censorial taxes.”
“Are they nomads too?”
“No, no, they each have their own reef or shoal or sandbar to farm. They live in underwater houses, too deep for the storms to hurt them. And legend has it there’s a secret house, deeper down where they put everything they don’t want tax collectors to see.”
Landry shared in Vychan’s laugh. “Is it true?”
“All I know is when I’ve visited a shoaler they live poorer than someone with that income should.”<
br />
“So where do the Censorials get their taxes from?”
“Us.” Vychan waved to take in the entire pyramidal city they were in. Then he tried to catch up on his eating. Another wave of kraken meat had been served, this time baked with spices.
Landry was still trying to wrap his mind around Corwynt society. “If there’s men so eager to brawl with Jaaphisii why aren’t they joining the police?”
“Jaaphisii women aren’t fond of men who win their brawls with shock-sticks. And married men can’t collect the rewards.”
“Ah. I see.” More kraken was savored. “I have to confess marrying for a job seems unromantic to me.”
“There’s some of that. More often someone falls in love and takes the job to be together. Is it that much to ask of Wynny’s future husband that he drive a forklift for her?”
“No,” Landry admitted.
“Oh, there’s a great vid I should show you. ‘Love and Terror’. A boy falls in love with a girl in the traveling circus. They sneak off to marry. Her parents and grandparents don’t like him at all. They find out he’s afraid of heights so they make him be an acrobat. So he has to overcome his fear to keep her.”
Vychan called to his wife, “Emlyn, could we show our guests ‘Love and Terror’ tonight?”
“Didn’t you hear? Director Bledig died last year.”
“No! That’s a pity. He was the best vid maker in my life.” He turned back to Landry. “We’re out of luck, sorry.”
“Weren’t there copies of the vid?”
Vychan looked like he’d suggested robbing a bank. “Not any more. Art dies with the artist.”
Had they destroyed their copy? Given that expression he didn’t dare push. Landry thought of old books he’d read, some from before humanity left Earth. And the Shakespeare performance he’d taken Lane to as their second date. This difference shocked him more than the family business rule.
The two older men had been served first. They were finished while most of the family was still eating.
Storm Between the Stars: Book 1 in the Fall of the Censor Page 6
