The Bright Black Sea (75 page)

I rose and scrambled along the edge of the roof,
searching for a way down. My com link produced nothing but static –
it was still being jammed. I'd have to put some distance between me
and the flier. My experience with jammers being limited, I wasn't
sure what their range was, but I supposed the Legion would deploy
the best. Still, I was alive. On the far side of the roof I found a
small access shack with a door that, though locked, was rusted and
rotten enough to open with a few kicks. I stumbled down into the
hot darkness. I didn't know what type of security they had, but I'd
likely prefer it to the alternative, the Legion of the New
Order.

Below was a noisy factory or shop. The stairs lead to
a network of catwalks and cranes over a large, steamy workshop.
They were building or repairing some large machine in the smoky
depths – the shop rang with loud clangs and I could see sparks
flying about, but I didn't pause to give it more than a glance. I
saw a set of steel stairs zig-zagging down the factory wall ahead
so I took off, and reaching them, raced down, my pounding footfalls
lost in the noise of the shop. Reaching the shop floor, I paused in
the shadows of the stairs and stacks of crates to consider my next
move. Was I safer here, or should I continue to run? My com link
was still jammed – it struck me that they could likely trace me
through its transmissions, so I turned if off until I could get
clear and lost in Sanjoor long enough to call for help.

I consulted my gut, and found my gut didn't trust
Desparians, even non-legionnaire Desparians, so I searched for a
way out. There was a large open door in the wall to my right, ten
meters away. That seemed my best bet. I forced myself to walk
casually through the stacks of crates and tools towards it and
slipped out into the walled-in storage yard beyond, filled with old
parts and rusting stacks of raw materials. No one was about and no
one seemed to notice me, or if they did, kept to their tasks. The
yard was reached by an alley between tall factory walls but that
gate was closed. I glanced around. It would have to be over the
walls, if possible, so I sprinted across the open yard and slipped
in amongst the stacks of materials working my way to the tall wall.
My luck continued– I found the wall lined with climbable racks, and
with my sore shoulder shooting darts of pain, I clambered up a wet,
rusty rack of long metal bars. Reaching the top, I peered over the
wall in the narrow lane below. Despar's .5 gee gravity made escape
fairly easy – just a jump of five to six meters, and I'd be
out.

The question was, when? Now or wait for darkness?

I was too wound up to wait. And the flier pilot had
to know where I jumped, so they'd likely be converging on this
factory right now. The sooner I put this section of Sanjoor behind
me, the safer I'd be. Just as in Port Sanjoor, the lane below was
narrow, fit only for foot and cycle traffic. It looked to be empty,
so I slipped over the side and landed in the mud at the foot of the
wall. I'd no idea where I was and the lane faded to a dirty white
curtain of mist at either end without a hint of what lay beyond, so
I turned to starboard and started looping along in the light
gravity.

Like the space port, Sanjoor is really two cities,
one in the towers and the other huddled at the feet of the towers.
The huddled city is a maze of narrow lanes zig-zagging between
narrow shops, walled market gardens and tenements. I soon came to a
more trafficked lane, and dodged my way through the pedestrians and
bewildering array of cycles that wove in and out of the pedestrians
and the damp mist. I was looking for the base of a clearsteel tower
in the hope that I could find a way in and reach the roof top flier
stand. However, if there were any towers about, which I rather
doubted, since I believe I'd been whisked off to the industrial
suburbs, they were hidden by the mist overhead and behind the
huddled tenements that towered over me.

It took them less than fifteen minutes to find
me.

I'd slowed to a fast walk to catch my breath,
figuring I'd put enough distance between me and my jump point to be
fairly safe when I noticed a clump of men jogging towards me a
short block away. They saw me, and immediately picked up their
pace. I dodged to a narrow lane on my left, and took off running
again. It zigged and zagged in deep shadow, mostly walls and a few
dim-lit shops. In less than a minute it widened and brightened,
opening onto what seemed a major street. But silhouetted across its
entrance stood a line of wide, large and serious looking men. I
pulled out my darter. They were big enough and as they leaped
forward, they'd soon be close enough to be hard to miss, even for
me.

A blast of hot air shot down and swirled about me.
Overhead, the whining of jets. I leaped against the wall as a small
flier squeezed in next to me. Its door swung up, barely missing me
pressed against the wall. The seat was empty. I took that as an
invitation and dived in. Worst case, there'd only be one
Legionnaire to deal with, not a dozen. I'd barely gotten my
trailing foot inside when the flier shot up, slamming the door down
beside me. There were several flashes of blue light as I
straightened myself in the seat and glanced at the pilot, a sleek
spaceer in uniform and cap.

He spared me just a quick glance and a brief smile
before concentrating on piloting the flier up and through the maze
of buildings. 'You've made some enemies, Wil.' he said.

The voice was familiar. Startled, I stared, trying to
place his face. Another quick glance my way – the slim face with
the black, neatly trimmed mustache wasn't familiar, but those icy
grey eyes were. 'Nadine,' I gasped.

She laughed, 'You've pierced my disguise with the
ease of a lover's glance!'

'Neb...' I muttered again, incapable of a coherent
thought. Luckily none was needed, as she slammed the flier forward
through the mist, just high enough to keep it skimming over low
rooftops and twisting down a series of narrow lanes with buildings
looming in the mist on both sides.

'I'm touched that you remember my name. Spaceers
usually have such short memories for the lovers they leave behind,
and it's been ever so long...' she said giving me another quick
glance while racing over a rare straight street, her eyes bright
with sarcastic delight, her smile, under her mustache wide, but not
quite cruel.

I'm sure there were many witty rejoinders to that
line. “Not long enough” springs to mind, but only now. But in the
moment, nothing bubbled to the surface. I settled for 'What are you
doing here? I mean, here and now?'

She didn't answer until she'd made a couple of abrupt
maneuvers, narrowly missing or flying over the low, ramshackle
buildings on all sides. At the speed she was traveling, she was
either an excellent pilot or was heavily relying on the collision
avoidance system to get us through the maze. After a few moments of
such flying, she pulled the flier up a little, content to skim over
the low tenements and factories by several meters.

'What am I doing? I believe I'm saving you from being
brutally beaten to death by the Legion of the New Order. You must
tell me more about that, when we have a less hectic chance to
talk...'

'Why?'

'Why what?' she shot back with a laugh.

I closed my eyes and tried to think clearly. I needed
time...

'Why did you just save me from them? They were just
going to save you the trouble... And dead is dead.'

'Because, Wil, I've traveled a very long way and paid
a very steep price to catch up to you with one idea, to kill you
slowly, and I've no intention of letting a pack of thugs beat me to
it. Not after the price I've paid for the pleasure.'

I just stared at her. She gave me another wide smile,
her eyes sparkling with cold delight. 'What do you think of my
disguise?'

'You must have...' I began, intending to say taken
the same Academy course as Leith D'Lay. but some intuitive jolt
warned me not to say anything about him and what I'd learned about
her or St Bleyth from Brother D'Lay. I couldn't say why or what use
that knowledge would be, but I'd need any edge I could muster to
get out of this with my life...

And I recalled D'Lay's earnest advice, kill her if I
ever was given the chance. I still had my little darter in my hand,
held out of sight on my right side. She had both hands on the
controls, so there seemed no barrier to using it on her. Sitting
right next to me, she was within my effective range....

'I must have what?' she asked, jerking out of my
thoughts.

'You must have thought me blind, if you thought that
mustache would fool me,' I improvised. 'Now can you take it off .
It's creepy.'

'It fooled you at the Star and Dust, though you were
rather brightly lit when I walked by you,' she replied with a
laugh, 'And you'll just have to put up with it until we get to my
lair.'

'You were at the Star and Dust?'

'Amazing what a cap, a badge and an arrogant stare
will do for you. I walked by your table and tagged you, a good
thing too, since it enabled me to follow your recent
escapades.'

I put a hand to the back of my neck.

'I just tagged your coat collar,' she laughed. 'I was
planning on following you and having this fond reunion at your gig.
My improvised plan was to bring a poor drunken Captain Litang back
to his ship in your gig, as a personal favor. Once aboard, I'd take
care of my business with Min and if events permitted, take you off
again for a long conversation.'

'How long have you been on Despar?' I asked, curious
to know if she ever had a chance at Min.

'I only arrived 51 hours ago, aboard the Rusa Rock.
I'm signed on as cook.'

'As a cook?'

She spared me a quick glance and a bright smile. 'One
of my many talents. I'm a wizard with a food synth. In my trade,
being a good chef will often get you into places that might
otherwise be very hard to penetrate. I've been busy making
arrangements, but when dear ol'Cap'n Flory mentioned that he was
dining with Captain Litang, who had destroyed Despar's pet
berserker, I realized I'd been handed my chance on a gold platter.
It was only the second lucky break I've had since I met you.
Signing on as cook on the Rusa Rock was the first. Anyway, I
slipped downside and invited myself to the Star and Dust to meet
the hero of the day amongst the anti-Despar faction.'

'And knowing that I destroyed a berserker bare
handed, you still wanted to try to kill me? Wouldn't it have been
safer to let the Legion do it?'

She laughed, 'I haven't a choice, Wil. You're mine to
kill.'

I still held my darter in my right hand hidden next
to me. She still had both hands on the flier's controls, so I had
options, if I wanted to live, but Neb blast if I could see any way
to get myself clear. If I stunned her now with my darter, I'd have
to rely on the flier's autopilot to keep us from crashing while I –
somehow – replaced her in the pilot's seat. In the small cockpit,
that would be very awkward and all the time the flier would be
flying unattended. Moreover, I couldn't be certain she'd put the
Legion far enough behind us that I'd even have the time. And what?
My little sissy had only non-lethal darts so killing her would
involve dumping her from a sufficient height and running to the
Patrol HQ with my tale of being pursued by the Legion, saved by an
assassin, and killing the assassin... Not a tale I relished telling
to the Patrol, since I likely couldn't prove a thing against her
and if I admitted killing her, well, Despar did, I believe, have
laws against such a thing, which, given my current popularity here,
I might as well let the Legion have their way with me and save
everyone a lot of bother. Moreover, I was far from sure the Patrol
wouldn't treat me any differently. Taking the law into one's own
hands is frowned on, and doing it habitually will get you in deep
trouble. So, as a known gun runner, I doubted the Patrol would
treat me kindly. Just stunning her, dropping her off on some roof
top, might solved the immediate problem, but nothing in the long
run...

I glanced at her. She was smiling slightly under that
creepy mustache. She seemed to be concentrating on her piloting
since we were flying low again – I could see the hazy forms of
walls, smokestacks and buildings shooting by us within an arm's
span at times, still I had the feeling she was watching me out of
the corner of her eye.

'Afraid of heights?' I asked, just to give me a few
more seconds to decide.

'Just making sure the Neb-blasted Legion can't follow
us,' she replied carelessly, adding with a sarcastic smile, 'I've
had to change my plans because of them. They'll be waiting around
your gig, so I think it's time for a long conversation. We had so
little time to... talk last time.'

Even with those chilling words, I realized I couldn't
kill her. I wasn't like her and didn't want to be like her. I still
wasn't enough of a drifteer to kill in cold blood. Yet. I'd just
have to escape, but this wasn't the time.

'Well, it's not like I invited you to follow me. I
seem to recall advising you to run instead. To start a new
life.'

'I remember. Your concern was quite touching.'

'Speaking of concern, I've occasionally wondered how
your husband fared? I trust he's recovered from his wounds.'

She laughed lightly. 'Poor Max. Did you know he was
born and bred in New Prusza? The poor sod. So you can imagine the
vast embarrassment he's had to endure after challenging the lover
of his wayward wife and losing the honor duel. And losing it
against a Unity standard wimp of a spaceer. The horror! The shame!
The poor, arrogant fool could barely find a reason to carry on! We
didn't part on friendly terms,' she added brightly.

'Did they get his hand reattached?'