The Bright Black Sea (76 page)

'I didn't linger long enough to know if they
succeeded or not. He had a large cast over it when we parted. He
had to take off his shoes to count to six,' she laughed, adding
with a shake of her head, 'Local talent, Wil. Local talent. Says it
all,' and the smile faded.

'I was once considered very good, myself. Once. But
now, I'm hardly better than that poor idiot Max. I've no future at
all – once I kill you and Tallith Min I might as well walk out of
an air lock, my future's that grim. And it all began when I first
crossed orbits with you.' She gave me the icy glance I remembered
so well. 'We've got a lot to discuss, you and I.'

'You can still start a new and better life, if you
care to. The Nebula is wide.'

'No I can't. I'm bound by my code of ethics...'

My trigger finger twitched, but I forced myself to
let it pass...

'Well, I've seen what that leads to...' I replied,
too soft for her to hear.

We didn't say anything more for several minutes,
while she tossed the flier this way and that to avoid great looming
walls. We were low again. Then she abruptly dropped the flier down
into the deep shadows of a small space between two hulking
buildings.

'My Despar headquarters,' she said, once more bright,
adding with a leer, 'My lair.'

'Rather basic,' I noted, looking at the sheer walls
on all sides.

'Warehouses. Despar Navy warehouses,' she laughed.
'They've been sealed and secured by the Patrol, so they're
essentially abandoned, but secure from casual visitors.'

'The Parol doesn't mind you using them?'

'They don't seem to. I go in and out as I please. I
really am good at arranging these sorts of things,' she laughed,
opening the flier's hatches and slipping out. I stepped out on my
side into the damp shadowed space. She was already around the back
of the flier, holding her darter pointed at me.

'I'll take your darter, Wil, since you seem to have
no use for it. And I'll have your com link too.'

I handed over my darter and as I slowly undid the com
link I considered my options. I braced myself for the lunge.

'Don't even think about it. I'll stun you and drag
you in by your feet. There are lots of stairs to climb so you'd
have one Neb-blasted headache when you'd come too,' She pocketing
my darter while keeping hers aimed at my chest.

I handed over my com link. The one lesson D'Lay had
taught me that I've taken to heart is, don't fight losing
battles.

'Really, Wil. I gave you a chance,' she said,
stepping back and looking at me. 'Why didn't you take it?”

'Did you, Nadine? I doubt you're that big a
fool.'

She smiled coldly, watching me. 'Perhaps, perhaps
not. Still, you could've tried.'

I shook my head, 'You'd just saved my life. I could
hardly turn around and kill you, could I? I have my code of ethics
too. The real question is why you gave me even the slightest
chance?'

She shrugged. 'Because I know your type – Unity
Standard. I knew you'd be far too civilized to shoot me, though
your life actually depended on it. A minor gamble. A game. And you
lost. For as long as you cling to life, you'll always wonder if you
could've avoided the pain of the death I've in mind for you, if you
had the courage to try.'

'No good deed goes unpunished.'

'Indeed. And punished you will be,' she said with icy
glee – her eyes now eager, cold, grey and bright. 'Let's get out of
this rain,' she added, indicating a small door, dwarfed by a vast
wall.

She walked backwards ahead of me, did something at
the door with her free hand, and we entered without setting off any
alarms. With a warning to do exactly what she directed or be
darted, we walked, she several meters behind, carefully through the
vast warehouse filled to the dim roof with rows and rows of racks
filled with sealed pallets. I didn't think any attempt to escape
would stretch more than a meter before she shot me, so I walked as
directed. A stack of offices rose to the ceiling in the center of
the warehouse and she directed me up the open staircase that ran up
the side of this stack to the top story, and into a small set of
offices just under the roof.

'My digs,' she said with a sweep of her hand as we
entered an office with windows overlooking the dim lit expanse of
naval supplies.

02

She closed the door behind us, settled on the edge of
the long desk/control panel below the window and slipped her darter
into a holster under her jacket. She carefully pealed off the
mustache.

'Thank you. A vast improvement.' Charm, Litang,
charm, I told myself.

She smiled, but said, 'Unfortunately, Wil, I'm
pressed for time, at least on this end of the operation, so this is
how it's going to lift. I need to get to Tallith Min, and that
means getting aboard the ship. You're my ticket for that...'

I quickly debated whether or not to tell her she'd
missed Min, but decided that she'd likely not believe me, and if
she did, well, I was no use to her. Better to play along, at least
for now.

'How do you figure that will lift?'

'Well, you could just invite me aboard for a few
drinks...'

'Sure. Why not. You just saved my life, I certainly
owe you a drink or two,' I replied, being as agreeable as I could,
just to make her uneasy.

She gave me a look and said, 'I think it'd be better
if you were unconscious when we arrive. So here's how it'll lift.
I'll have just saved you from being beaten to death by a gang of
toughs, which, curiously enough is the truth,' and adding with a
laugh. 'Only you'll be in very bad shape, more dead than alive.
You'll be unconscious so I'll have to bring you up to the ship
myself. Arriving more dead than alive should bring your Min
running, and well that should complete my assignment. Depending on
how things play out, I'm hoping to continue this conversation by
bringing you back as a hostage to keep your shipmates from alerting
the Patrol. This time the plans's nice and simple.'

'Then why didn't you just leave the legionnaires to
work me over and just save me in the nick of time? It'd be the
truth and would pass the AI lie detecter on the vid call to the
ship.'

'Ah, Wil, you don't know how long I've looked forward
to our time together. I wasn't about to be denied the pleasure of
making you pay for what you've done to me. If I had missed you and
they had gotten to you first, I'd have been very, very
disappointed. By the way, what did you do to get them so riled up?
'

'I didn't do anything. The Legion is convinced that
the berserker they hired would've defeated the whole Patrol. It
captured us but we managed to disable it and destroy it, so now
they're blaming us for their entire defeat. Totally ridiculous, the
Patrol could've taken on the berserker.'

'I'm impressed. My Wil, defeating Despar all by
himself...'

'I didn't do a Neb blasted thing. My tech hacked the
damn thing long enough for your St Bleyth mercenaries to hack its
cyber brain into small pieces.'

'And yet, they blame you.'

'Someone has to take the blame for the mistakes they
made. Is there any logic in the drifts? Does anyone take
responsibility for their actions?'

'You're my responsibility, my dear Wil. And I'm going
to live up to it. Eventually,' she added with an icy leer.

'So why are you angry with me? Neb, you'd be in
Felon's Rift right now if I had chosen to protest your attempt on
my life after the duel.'

'I could've killed you and likely gotten away.
Lontria has many bolt-holes...'

'Why didn't you?'

She shrugged.'You're not my prime target. Min is.
You're value – and you only need to be a corpse to be of value – is
that I can use you to reach Min. But I couldn't do that from a
bolt-hole. I hoped for another chance before you sailed.'

'Well, I can hardly be blamed for not giving you that
chance. Nor did I report the incident to the Guard or the Patrol.
Really, Naylea, I don't see that you can blame me for anything at
all.'

'Naylea? Why did you call me that?'

I looked at her. 'It's your real name, isn't it?
Naylea Cin, it's a pretty name.'

'How do you know that?' she asked, momentarily at a
loss, , 'D'Lay of course.'

'Aye, an old friend from your school days. My, you've
made enemies, my dear,' I said. I didn't know where I was going
with this or why, but it would give her something to wonder about.
'I'm told that you had such promise. Is this the promise,
Naylea?'

She sat staring at me for a moment, and taking a pair
of gloves out of her jacket pocket said, 'I did have promise. More
than promise, I was the best at what I did. I was skilful enough to
successfully operate in the Unity for years. That level of skill is
very rare. But thanks to you, I've had to leave my field of
expertise and follow you into the drifts.'

With her gloves on, she reached down and picked up a
leather covered rod from a gear bag next to the desk, and standing
up, continued quietly. 'Getting to La Trina in a sleeper-pod was
expensive, but painless. However, tourists don't go to Zilantre nor
do company ships and Unity tramps take on casual passengers or
crews. There are a few scheduled emigrant liners that serve
Zilantre, but that would have entailed waiting several months. So
if I wanted to catch up to you, I had to sign on as crew on a
drifteer trader. Being in a hurry, I wasn't fussy, and ended up as
pursuer, cook, and general hand on a dirty little drifteer tramp
manned by a dirty little crew of lecherous half-wits. I made it
very clear early on that I wasn't interested in sharing my dirty
little cabin with any of them, and had to remind them of that on
almost a daily basis, often with more than a look or a word.... 123
days of going about my duties with a darter in my pocket – always
careful to keep my back to a bulkhead when I was out of my dirty
little cabin...'

She stepped closer and without warning, lashed out
with the rod in her hand – I managed to take the blow on my arm
where the armored jacket and shirt that I now always wear downside
these days, dulled the pain of the blow. Still, I yelped, ever
anxious to appease an angry, sadistic assassin, while falling back
out of range, for the moment.

'I'm sorry,' I said, and would have added more, but
she cut me off.

'Oh, quit your crying, I've not even begun. It'll
sting a lot sharper when I get those armored clothes off of you,'
she snapped, but paused, staring grimly off into space,

'When I arrived on Zilantre I found that D'Lay had
borrowed you and your ship, so I had to wait to find out where I
had to go next. Shunned by the members of the Order – who knew of
my failures – I waited until word of D'Lay's disaster and your
arrival in Despar orbit reached us. Finding a berth to Despar
wasn't easy. Not a lot of ships were sailing there. Eventually, I
had a bit of luck when dear old Captain Flory took a fancy to me –
or rather to my cooking – and offered the cook's berth aboard his
small trader, the
Rusa Rock
, so I made it here
unmolested...

'I'm used to being disliked, hated. But even so,
those 123 days of being trapped with those beady little men and
shunned on Zilantre...' She stopped, and lunging, slashed, striking
my already sore wrist and sending a bolt of pain up my arm as I
stumbled away from her. I yelped for real.

'What got me through all those endless dark days and
months,' she continued quietly – she was toying with me, 'was
dreaming of the day when I'd have you in my power – when I'd have
you exactly where you are right now. And what I'd do to you when I
did. How I'd make you pay for destroying my career, my reputation,
my career, and sometimes even my self esteem... Do you know what my
future holds because of you?'

I shook my head no.

'Now, thanks to you, well this is the future I'm
likely to face,' she said, and with a deeper voice continued, play
acting the part of a vid thug, 'You were sent to collect 20
credits, (striking me,) Willy. But you collected 30 (slash) but you
only turned over 20. (slash) Are you going into business yourself,
Willy?' (slash, slash) I was trying, and mostly failing to dodge or
deflect the blows.

'Well, you get the idea, I'll be lucky to be hired
out as an enforcer for some drifter gang all because you didn't die
when you should have.'

'You can hardly blame me for that,' I gasped, earning
another glancing blow as I tried to slip out of the way, 'You
missed...'

'And you defeated Max. That should have been a sure
thing, but Max was a buffoon.'

'Buffoon or not, it was your own overelaborate plan
and your local talent. And don't forget, you failed as well because
you couldn't resist being overelaborate and tipping me off with
your melodramatics before the duel,' I have no idea why I was going
on like this, why I seemed intent on making her mad, or madder with
me. I guess I didn't like being blamed for something that was
hardly my fault.

'Now, if you would've run as I advised, you could be
living a new life. But no, you set out to follow us to the drifts.
Your code of ethics... I can hardly be blamed for every mistake
you've made...'

She delivered a few more blows, the tip of her tongue
on her lips, her eyes bright with pleasure. 'I seem to be able to
blame whomever I want. All because you lived when you should have
died.'

I bit back,
Because you missed. And failed, two
more times,
and said instead, 'Sorry.'

'You will be. You'll pay...'

'Why? It's your superiors who have condemned you. But
I suppose they can't be touched. 'Still, that's no reason to kill
me. I know nothing about your client, nor does Min. And if we were
really important, why didn't the Order act here on Despar, if not
on Zilantre? I know they have people available. Instead, you had to
endure those dirty little men because they'd not lift a finger to
help you. I can see why you're angry – but not at me.'