Ghost Ship (36 page)

“We’re swapping the courier ship in
Bechimo
’s hold for the pilot who holds the key to second board.”

A flash of blue in her direction, like maybe he was having second thoughts about his
we
, but all he said was, “Who?”

“Crystal Energy Consultants.”

Clarence O’Berin threw back his grey head and laughed.

Theo felt a flicker of irritation. “Is that funny?”

“No, now, lassie, don’t look black death at me! How d’ye happen to have one of the Uncle’s ships in your hold, if you don’t mind sayin’?”

“I was contracted to Crystal Energy Consultants as a courier pilot,” she said, trying to keep her voice even and not sound like she was annoyed. “The
Toss
was my ship.”

“Then this fine lady come along and you decided to be your own woman. Fair enough. And the pilot we’re receiving in exchange? Seems to me if that one holds second key, there’s no need to be tempting port pickup pilots with visions of testing out a new loop for Korval.”

He was upset, Theo thought, having given that
we
and now thinking that she was pushing it away. She shook her head, fingers rising to sign,
steady
,
complex
, and
short form
.

“The pilot who holds second key was . . . captured by people who wanted to gain possession of this ship. He refused to guide them to
Bechimo
, or—or to me, and for that he was tortured and . . . badly damaged. He’s dying—but
maybe
the healing unit on this ship can do the necessary repairs.” She gave him her best imitation of Father’s most opaque stare. “It’s an old ship, and it carries some . . . non-standard tech.”

Clarence waited, watching her.

“He might—I gathered, as far as Uncle knows, and he’s the closest thing to an expert I have on this—Win Ton might be a long time healing, if he doesn’t die instead. In the meantime, this ship is under contract to Tree-and-Dragon to test the master trader’s new route. I need—backup. I attract trouble. I need a copilot who’s capable and smart, who knows when to stay on the ship and keep the hatch closed, and when to set the ship as backup and come down on the ground to sort things out.”

He didn’t say anything or move a muscle for a long count of three, then he sighed, took his hands out of his pockets, and stepped over to the copilot’s chair.

“A smart ship’s a real benefit to a pilot,” he said, settling in. “I value a smart ship.” He raised his voice slightly. “You hear that, Ship?”

Theo held her breath.

“I hear that, Pilot O’Berin.”

“Good. What’m I to call you?”

“
Bechimo
. How shall I address you?”

“Clarence’ll do it.”

Theo sighed out the breath she’d been holding.

“
Bechimo
, please provide Clarence with ship’s log and maintenance records.”

“Yes, Pilot.”

She touched certain tabs, bringing up the copilot’s contract Ms. dea’Gauss had written for her, spelling out duties, pay, and shares.

“Sending to your Three screen,” she said quietly, “Clarence.”

* * *

It didn’t take him long to vet the logs, though he lingered over the contract before setting his thumb against the plate with a sigh.

“dea’Gauss does good work,” he said, and spun his chair to face her. “When d’you want me on duty, Pilot?”

Theo considered that. Uncle was due within the next local day. She could easily let the man go home and put his groundside life in order before—

“Pardon, Pilot Waitley,”
Bechimo
said, sounding a lot more respectful than he usually did. “I have a communication from the Uncle. He expects to land within the hour, and desires a meeting with you at the Emerald.”

In the copilot’s station, Clarence laughed softly.

“I’m thinking that means
now
,” he said.

- - - - -

Quin jumped, kicking into a quarter-turn midleap, flexed his knees, brought his elbows in to his sides . . .

The hideaway in his jacket shifted, destroying his center. He kicked again, much good it did him, hit the mat on one knee, ducked into a somersault and snapped to his feet.

“Impressive,” Padi said, from her lean against the bar. “But not at all what Theo managed.”

“I know that!” Quin snapped, and sighed. “I would have matched it, but my gun shifted.”

“
You
insisted that we practice as if we were on-port,” she pointed out.

“Are you going to ask a port tough to wait until you go back to the ship and change into your exercise clothes?” Quin asked, still snappish.

Padi raised her hand, fingers whispering
peace
. “I had said you insisted, not that you were in error. In fact, it seems to me that we ought to have been practicing in port dress long since—for just the reason your last effort illuminated. Full pockets make a simple dance—something more complex.”

Quin shook his head. “Theo managed that move in a gown, landed firm, centered, and already in defense stance. I was looking directly at her and I cannot say for certain how it was done.” He gave Padi a small smile. “She’s rather quick, our Theo.”

“It would be instructive to have her dance with Uncle Val Con. Could the eye even follow?”

Quin dropped to the mat. “Not much chance of that very soon, is there?” He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them.

“There may be an opportunity,” Padi said, kneeling beside him and looking into his eyes, “in future. Are you still worried about your father’s lifemate?”

He moved his shoulders. “Worried . . . she will be something different in the house, but with so much else different . . .”

“And after all,” Padi said brightly, “you will have Grandfather, so it will seem just as always.”

“I will, but—” He looked up, face earnest. “Padi, does it seem . . . odd to you, that we are going—that you are going on the
Passage
with your father, and I to the city with mine, while Syl Vor and the twins stay here, without us? We were at the Rock so short a time, and yet it seems that we had always been there, waiting for word, practicing the drills and Grandfather walking the rounds . . .”

“I know.” She leaned forward and touched his cheek. “Cousin, we sat board together, and trained together, and depended, each on the other. It does seem odd, that we will be separated. But—we had to learn to work together. And the Rock seemed strange, didn’t it, at first?”

“Yes . . .”

“And we’re behind, you know,” Padi continued. “
My
father says he doubts I’ll find time in my schedule to sleep, I’ve so much to catch up aboard the
Passage
.”

Quin grinned. “Surely he knows you better than that!”

“Perhaps he has some catching up to do, as well,” Padi said smugly, and came to her feet as the door to the practice room opened.

“Your pardons,” Mr. pel’Kana said. “Master Quin, Mr. McFarland is here to take you to your father.”

THIRTY-SIX

Emerald Casino

Surebleak Port

Surebleak

“Ah, Pilot Waitley, how good of you to come so quickly.”

Uncle rose from the depths of the backmost booth and bowed gently, in no particular mode—or at least not in any of the modes her cousins had managed to drill into her head yet. His beard was more definite, and carefully groomed; his dark hair was lacquered red at the tips, and a single gold ring pierced his right ear. He wore a plain dark sweater, a leather vest, and leather pants. There was a workmanlike gun on his belt—only prudent on Surebleak Port—and another, smaller gun, Theo thought, in his right sleeve.

“And this worthy person is—”

“Pilot O’Berin,” she said. “My copilot.”

Uncle gave her one of his cool smiles. “Copilot, very good,” he said, and, then, over her head, “Pilot
Clarence
O’Berin?”

“That’s right,” he said easily.

Uncle’s smile deepened, if it didn’t exactly warm. “Excellent,” he said, and swept out an arm, indicating the empty seats. “Please, Pilots, join me. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering wine.”

Theo slid into the corner seat, which was as good a choice as any. She had solid wood at her back, and a good view of the room, but she was more or less boxed in. If trouble came, she’d just have to take a dive under the table.

Clarence sat angled at the end of the bench, which gave him a clear view of Uncle and of her, while partially shielding her from the room. Taking up copilot’s duty, just like that, Theo thought.

“Pilot Waitley, you must allow me to say how very much I regret the events that overtook you at Tokeoport,” Uncle said, pouring two fingers of wine into each of the three glasses at the center of the table. “However, as it seems that these regrettable events have had the happy result of uniting you with your destiny, we ought perhaps not lament too widely, but simply toast your . . . good fortune.”

He set the bottle aside and picked a glass up, holding it aloft.

Clarence picked up one of the two remaining without hesitation and held it high. Theo, sighing internally, perforce picked up the third and raised it.

“Pilot,” Uncle prompted, “the toast?”

She blinked, then remembered Val Con and Father—“To the luck,” she said.

“The luck,” Clarence seconded, “every bit of it.”

“Indeed,” Uncle said. “To fortune.”

Theo let the wine dampen her mouth and sweeten her tongue, just enough to be polite, before she put the glass down. Clarence, she saw, did about the same. The Uncle drank deeply and with obvious enjoyment, which was fair enough—he’d bought the bottle.

“Before we address the more pressing matters before us, I wonder, Pilot Waitley, if you were able to retrieve that item from the lock box?”

She nodded, held her primary hand between them with fingers wide, signaling
no threat
, while she reached inside her jacket with her off-hand and drew out the flat box she’d picked up on Tokeoport.

Carefully, she put it on his side of the table, next to the wine bottle, angled so that he could see the unbroken seal.

“The others are in the ship’s safe,” she said.

Uncle exhaled, slowly.

“Pilot Waitley, you are a resourceful and determined woman. The usual fee, and a hazard bonus, will be in your account within the next local day.” He put his hand over the box, lifted it and slipped it into his vest pocket.

“You will also find the buy-out fee in your account,” he continued, and finished the rest of the wine in his glass. “I do regret that you will not be able to continue in my employ, Pilot.”

“It doesn’t seem practicable,” Theo agreed, “given that your name appears on certain lists.”

“Indeed.” He poured himself more wine, then showed them each the bottle.

“No, thank you,” Theo said. Clarence just held a hand over his glass.

Uncle put the bottle down.

“We proceed, then, to our other business. I understand that
Arin’s Toss
is in the hold of your ship. What I was not able to ascertain from your communication was its condition.”

“Intact,” Theo said promptly. “
Bechimo
has the hold shielded, if you’ve tried to communicate directly with the
Toss
.”

“Prudent,” the Uncle murmured. He sipped wine, thoughtfully, it seemed to Theo. “Scout yo’Vala is being readied for his transfer to your vessel. Have you a rendezvous point to suggest?”

Bechimo
had worked that out, then run it past Jeeves, who sent it on to Val Con, who had professed himself “informed,” with that particular inflection that Theo had come learn also meant that he was amused.

“I asked
Bechimo
to transmit coordinates to the origin point of your last message.”

“It will have bounced to Dulsey, then. As I have heard no outcry, I accept your choice. My choice of time is as soon as possible. I expect that my presence may be trying several tempers and I very much wish the Dragon to lie quiet and tend the business to which it has set itself.”

“Assuming portmaster’s courtesy,” Theo said—and lifting
out
of Surebleak was nowhere near the problem dropping
in
was—“we can be at the rendezvous point in three Standard Hours.”

Uncle pursed his lips, nodded.

“That is also acceptable,” he said and drank off what was left of his wine in a swallow.

“I suggest that we remove to our stations, and see this thing done.” He rose and bowed.

“Pilot Waitley. Pilot O’Berin. Good lift.”

“Good lift,” Theo answered, but Uncle had already slipped out of the booth and was on his way to the door.

- - - - -

Pilot Waitley didn’t let any grass grow under her wings, there was that about her. Clarence swung by Mack’s, having gotten the pilot’s permission for a detour, so long as it was quick, and explained the situation, fingers filling in what the mouth hadn’t time for.

“Quite a ship that pilot brung in. I’m not saying I’d be in your boots if she’d offered second to me, but the temptation—there would be that.”

“No notice,” Clarence said. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Ship lifts when the pilot says
go
,” Mack said. “You done solid for me, and I got no complaints. Comes about you’re home again and need work, remember to stop by an’ see me, right?”

“Right.” Clarence cleared his throat, but Mack’s fingers were moving.

Time flies.

“You got time to get your kit?”

“Sent one of Ms. Audrey’s over to the landlady with the rent and a note. If I’m gone when she gets back, I told her to bring it here—you can do with it as you see fit.”

“I’ll pop it in t’safe ’til you call for it.”

Clarence took a breath, feeling his throat get tight again.

“Thank you,” he said, just like his ma’d taught him back before he’d had any notions about pilots, or ever heard about favors. “I’m beholden.”

“Hell y’are. Now get outta here ’fore your pilot lifts without you and you’re back on tractor repair.”

- - - - -

“Think she’ll be back?” Miri asked, her arm tucked comfortably through Val Con’s as they strolled through the inner garden.

“Am I being asked to find odds?”

“Garden variety guess’ll do.”

He laughed lightly.