The Bright Black Sea (74 page)

I shook my head and said slowly, 'No. No, Tallith, I
can't complain too much.'

'I know you've insisted that you've a stake in this
quest. And perhaps you have one, a small one, but well, the quest
is bound to be a long one. Five or ten years might only be the
opening campaign. Mostly it will be drift trading and establishing
a reputation in the drifts that will open doors to the inner
workings. I suspect that my quest will be just the thread we follow
with many diversions along the way. I'm willing to do it because I
now think it's the only way I'll find what I'm looking for. I'm not
in a hurry, but I'm not going to give it up either... My point is
that by staying aboard the ship at this point in time, you're not
being cheated out of your stake in the quest. I can't predict the
future, so I can't promise that you'll be in at the end, but that
is always possible too.

'This feels like the right thing to do. I hope you
see that,' she finished abruptly.

I took my time to reply. I recalled my wyrm weather
dream, I'd come to take it as a warning, not to press my
undetermined feelings for Tallith Min, either with her or myself. I
could – should – let them remain undefined until the right time.
And this, I knew wasn't the right time.

'Yes, Tallith, I see that.' I said slowly. 'You're in
increasing danger every day we stay in orbit, and well, now having
a greater insight into the organization that has undertaken to kill
you, I've little hope of keeping you ahead of them aboard the
Lost Star
. This Cin character has no doubt been trailing us,
and there's no reason why they shouldn't assign another assassin to
your case as well. I'm at a loose as to how to protect you. This
prospect, if you can make certain that the Patrol handles things so
that you simply disappear, would be the perfect solution. And as
you've pointed out, the whole set up fits neatly into most of my
hopes for your future.

'So yes, I'm on board with the plan,' I added with a
sigh. 'The important thing is for you, Vyn and Ten to disappear
without a trace. Not being in a Guild port, we don't have to list
our crew, so that the fact that the three of you are gone, need
never be noted.

'However, there is one condition I want to impose –
I'll sail the
Lost Star
to the Amdia system instead of the
Aticor system. Amdia is a hundred and fifty astronomical units
closer to Kintrine, which I assume is your ultimate goal. I don't
know what we could do, but we'd be closer at hand, in the event we
could be useful. And I don't think our prospects are that much less
in the Amdia system than they'd be around Aticor.'

'That's your call, Captain,' she replied, I suspect
much relieved. 'Kardea is available if you need her and what
resources I still have, but otherwise, the ship is yours to take
where you want to. I shouldn't need any credits from her operation,
so keep all the operational credits in her account. Get the engine
repaired when you can, and keep my ship as safe and profitable as
you can.'

'I hope I've not forgotten how. It hasn't been that
way for a while...'

Oh, we've profits enough. Just a little bad luck,
that's all. That should even out.'

'I won't tempt the Dark Neb, by making any promises,
other than I'll try.'

'That's all I wanted, Wil.'

'Well, , what's the plan?'

'We'll go down tomorrow to Patrol HQ to make the
purchase. Then within a day or two I believe the Patrol will send a
boat along to take us and our supplies out to our new ship and
we'll be off, probably put twenty aus between us and Despar before
we even begin trading.

'Right. The important thing is to be extra careful
until you're off. I'd rather not have you go down any more...'

'Only one more time. I'll have to run some risks if
I'm to succeed.'

I left it at that. I simply wasn't going to argue
with her. The time had passed for that, for all the good it ever
did.

06

And that, is that. When I returned to my quarters I
went over all the things I could have said. None of them made sense
in the end. There was simply no argument against this plan that
held any air. It should keep her safe from the hands of any St
Bleyth assassin. And even if they happen to get wind of the plan,
finding a small trader in the drifts is like finding a grain of
sand on a beach. Traders come and go on no schedule, and as often
as not, change ownership, names, personnel, and even appearance
between ports of call. Records of cargoes and ports of call are not
available to trace like they are in the Unity. And with Vynnia and
Tenry at her side, I don't think she'll get herself into too much
trouble. I think they have the moral authority to handle her that I
lack.

And it freed me of a great responsibility. Keeping
Tallith Min alive looked to be an almost impossible task, given
what I now knew about Saint Bleyth. As I mentioned to Min, given
Nadine's failures, it's likely that either the client or Saint
Bleyth had, or would sooner or later, put additional assassins on
Min's trail. Failure was poor business. Given the necessity of
keeping the ship employed in trade, we'd be unlikely to outrun the
reach of Saint Bleyth, though in the Unity it would be far harder
to assassinate Min (and me) than here in the drifts. But we were
still on Despar with no departure date on the event horizon, so
this offer seemed a gift of the Bright Neb, as long as we could
keep her alive for a few more days.

And yet, paradoxically, I felt bad about it. It
seemed as if I was still somehow just walking away from the
responsibility, taking the easy way out. It was a way out, of
course, but not by my choice. I'd no chance of changing Min's mind
even if I had wanted to. Even if I had a good reason to try. Which
I hadn't. Better to part without a pointless argument.

For my own life, I'd grown quite fatalistic,
discounting the danger to me for no good reason. Perhaps it was
because I knew how pointless the effort of killing me was. A waste
of credits. And well, there was nothing I could do to convince them
otherwise. It wasn't bravery, but resignation. The Litang thread of
life had a beginning and an end. The Litang writing this now
doesn't know how far that thread stretches into time, but even as I
write this, there's a Litang at the end of the thread who does
know. The universe is written – I just can't read ahead, only
behind. And it doesn't matter, because the universe is an
unchanging unity. What is written is written and I was in the
book.

07

I insisted on accompanying Min, Tenry and Vynnia down
to Despar the following morning. Safety in numbers, and I'd have
been a nervous wreck waiting for them to return. I waited in the HQ
lobby. The special branch doesn't entertain casual visitors.

Min had given the crew the news the following
morning, with strict orders that nothing was to be said to anyone
else. I gave orders that a list of supplies for Min's new ship
should be drawn up and gathered. Vynnia assured me that the ship
would be supplied with the basics, but didn't object when we
started hauling some of the supplies they'd brought over from the
old
Silvery Moon
. They'd be eating synthetic food as a main
stay, so having some real food and drink aboard would brighten up
the passage a little.

The following day a boat came alongside to take them
and their supplies off to their new, as yet, unnamed ship. The
fourth crew member proved to be a young, but serious looking fellow
– tall, dark, and, I suppose, rather handsome. He was friendly, but
quiet, and yet, while transferring the supplies to the Patrol boat,
he said something to Min that made her laugh, and even blush. That,
I fear, sent a dart through me. I didn't really want that it
should, but it did. And there was nothing I could do about it. Now.
If ever.

When the boat was loaded and it was time to go, I
kissed Tallith Min good-bye. We all did. I even kissed Vynnia,
though I drew the line at Tenry. We wished them good luck, and they
us. We all needed some, I think.

I don't know what the future holds, and I don't think
the wyrm did either. Still, that dart of pain makes it hard to lie
to myself. I care about Tallith Min. Hopefully we both can afford a
few years or decades apart. It's hard to be optimistic, but
hopefully that's just the baleful ambiance of Despar.

01

I've no excuse. I knew better.

Captain Blackie Bright's
Dusty Queen
had just
arrived in orbit, and finding the
Lost Star
as a neighbor,
he invited me to lunch with him and a number of fellow captains at
the Star and Drift Club in Sanjoor proper. I thanked him, but said
I was far from certain I'd be welcomed at the Star and Drift. The
Lost Star
is hated by the Despar Navy and was not very
popular amongst true Desparians spaceers either. He assured me that
there'd be no Desparian masters found at the Star and Drift, as
they had their own club, the arrogant bastards. I was certain to
find a welcoming crowd and so I'd blithely accepted his
invitation.

I guess I was just too happy to think clearly. Only
an hour earlier I'd received a long signal from Patrol Headquarters
outlining the disposition of our case. In short, we were fined the
balance of the bounty that would've been paid on the destruction of
Explora Miner
and we were free to go, unless we wished to
challenge this ruling. And in an addendum from the special branch,
we were encouraged to leave as soon as possible, as our continued
presence was an annoying headache for them. The fine was a very
substantial one, but put against the true value of the ship Min and
the gang purchased from the Patrol, it dwindled to nothing and it
left the vast charter fee D'Lay had paid intact. I'd not have
kicked about any settlement we could afford, so this was nearly the
best possible outcome. Now all I wanted to do was to put the drifts
behind me just as soon as I could get my crew on board and the ship
to the fueling station.

Unfortunately, the signal arrived after the bulk of
my crew had departed for the southern continent of Pangoria in the
long boat for a day on a wide warm beach. I debated calling them
back, but decided to let them have their day downside – we'd a long
voyage ahead of us.

And so, at last, without a care in the world – at
least one I could recall at the time – I left the ship in charge of
Barlan and Saysa, telling them that while I was invited for lunch,
you never know how long these lunches lasted with a bunch of old
ship captains, so not to expect me back anytime soon, and dropped
down to Port Sanjoor in the gig. I snagged a flier to take across
the bay to the Star and Drift Club, high in one the clearsteel
towers, looking forward to a meal that Blackie assured me, was
every bit as fine as the ones at the Helm and Star on Zilantre.

Blackie had a gathered a rather congenial table of
ship masters, and I'd only been able to tear myself away early in
the evening.

Really, I should by rights be writing this from the
far side of the event horizon.

It was bright and milky hot on the rooftop landing
stage. Clouds hid the surface, the chain of suns were just bright
spots in the haze. It was still hot. (It was always hot.) I'd been
drinking cha the last hour to keep a fragment of my wits about me,
for all the good it did me. I was still feeling grand, not so much
from drink, but with the prospect of putting Despar astern after
three solid months. I took a few deep breaths of the hot moist air,
to clear my head, but it didn't help.

I boarded a waiting flier and directed the pilot to
Port Sanjoor and settled back to enjoy the short flight.

The flier took off, and quickly descended into the
dense, aroma laced clouds below and slowly made its way through the
maze of towers, which wasn't right. Not if the flier was taking me
to Port Sanjoor. Which, clearly, it wasn't. It was – I realized
with a dart of panic – only what I deserved. I'd forgotten in my
euphoria that I'd enemies. With Min gone and the crew confined to
the ship, the urgency of that idea had lost its edge.

Nothing to do now, but to call the Patrol for help.
My com link produced only static. Of course. Like the wharf rats,
they had a jammer aboard. Standard procedure, I suppose, when you
set out to kill someone. I shifted my little darter from my coat
pocket to my right hand – I was going to have to hit someone this
time – and waited. They'd have to come at me, though they'd only
pay with headaches...

Five minutes passed as I cursed my stupidity, when
looking out the misty flier window, I saw we were now just drifting
over and around the rooftops of low factories and godowns, just
scraping along, no doubt looking for a nice quiet place for murder.
It struck me I might not want to wait to be murdered, so pocketing
my darter I kicked the emergency release handle to open flier's
hatch, and with a quick glance down, I leaped for a flat roof we
were drifting over, not more than five meters below. Manageable in
Despar's .5 gee gravity.

I slightly misjudged our speed and didn't quite miss
a square metal vent in the roof. I bounced off the vent's edge,
landed hard, and rolled with a dart of pain in my left shoulder
where I'd struck the vent. The momentum from the flier carried me
down the gentle slope of the roof to its edge. Fortunately there
was a low wall or gutter to prevent me from tumbling over the
edge.

The flier, a vague darker shape in the mist, turned
and headed back, its pilot leaning out of his side window, darter
in hand. Crouching behind the low raised edge, I drew my little
sissy, and snapped off several shots as the flier sailed slowly by,
actually hitting the flier several times, sheathing it faintly in
blue lightning. The pilot snapped off several shots of his own,
wide of their mark, and deciding that he was the bigger target,
shot upwards to disappear into the mist.