The Bright Black Sea (80 page)

I nodded. 'Right. Take care.'

She slipped into the night.

I was in no hurry – she was the professional, after
all. I was just a very winded tramp ship captain. I put on my shoes
and gave her a minute's head start before starting down the line of
wagons. I decided that I'd rely on speed, and luck, rather than
stealth and firepower, so I took off running again. The legion had
to be stretched thin, with both the top and bottom to cover, and
with wagons on both rail lines, I stood a chance of getting by. A
slight one.

Lightning flared and flashed ahead. I skidded to a
stop. Fire flared again, and I scurried under the wagon to the
outside. Lightning flashed again beyond the wagon, and I took off
running once more. I was in no mind to contribute to the ambiance
of that darter fight tonight.

I didn't meet anyone on my side – if any had been on
guard, the fire fight on the far side had drawn them off. I made it
into the deep shadows of the island with its looming godowns and
after half a kilometer or so, paused, too winded to go further. I
slunk into the even deeper shadow of a control box and searched for
a point were I could get off the lines and into the teeming lanes
of Port Sanjoor as I tried to catch my breath. A few minutes
passed.

'So you made it,' she said slipping into the shadows
beside me.

I jumped and spun in surprise. I could just make out
her smile in the darkness as I turned. I'd my darter in my hand and
I had it against her ribcage in a flash and fired the two dart
charge. Her smile faded as she collapsed in my arms, her darter
dropping beside her.

My streak of ruthlessness, my drifteer blood is, I'd
like to believe, thin, but it's there and in that instant, just as
I when was sparing with Barlan, and the kiss, I knew exactly what I
had to do and how to do it. And I did it. I let her body slip to
the ground and picked up her darter. My little sissy had only
non-lethal darts, so I'd have to use hers. Captain D'Lay had been
quite specific on what I needed to do, not only to save my life,
but possibly Min's as well. I knelt and pressed the darter to her
side to avoid a flash.

I closed my eyes. It didn't help, nor did the low
curse. I'd realized that even as I laid her down. I'd already found
the limit of my ruthlessness.

No matter, I'd just leave her here for the New Order
to find. They'd likely be along shortly – we – or Cin, anyway – had
killed too many of them to let us go free, Patrol or no Patrol.

I searched her pocket and found my com link. Good
enough. I stood and looked around, and down at her again. I still
owed her something. I glanced about and reaching down, dragged her
limp body to the far side of the control box. There was just enough
room between it and the godown wall to shove her body into. I
quickly stuffed her into the darkness, folding her legs up so she'd
not be seen unless they flashed a light into the narrow space. She
deserved a chance.

I peered around the box, and seeing no movement,
prepared to go. I drew out her larger darter. It was no doubt
charged with lethal darts. It was against my principles to fire
lethal darts, so it was useless to me. I went back and gently
tossed it into her lap, half expecting her to snatch it and shoot
me. But she didn't move, so I turned and slipped along the wall
towards the far end of the godown. I came to a bridge over a narrow
road – no doubt the outlet for the service lane under the viaduct.
I climbed over a low railing and drop down into that road, and
followed into the shadows. Within minutes I was once more in the
now familiar maze of Port Sanjoor. I spent an hour twisting my way
through those dark and sinister, bright and loud haunts in the
company of spaceers on sprees, slowly making my way to the gig.

I had to assume the Legion knew where my gig lay and
would be waiting in ambush. I debated signaling the Patrol. But, if
the Legion could trace my com link, turning its communication band
on might well lead them to me before the Patrol arrived. I rather
suspect the Legion has people everywhere in Sanjoor, including any
security resources they might need to locate and capture Wil Litang
if he showed up on the communication grid again. And , too, having
just gotten clear of the snares of officialdom, I'd no wish to
entangle myself again with an affair that likely left a score of
ex-naval personnel dead. Plus, there was Naylea. I'd probably be
mind probed in the investigation – as a Unity citizen they'd have
no qualms about doing that to me – and the results would likely
lead to her capture and eventually to a felons' rift – forcing St
Bleyth to assign a killer I didn't know. Better the killer I knew –
especially since she wasn't all that effective. To date. So, I
decided to cautiously survey the gig and if it looked too well
guarded, wait for morning before risking a signal to the ship and
if need be, have the long boat sent down to collect me. I got
myself into this mess, and if possible, I'd get myself out.

I circled the landing field to approach the gig from
the opposite side from the viaducts and , cautiously, advanced by
attaching myself to bands of boisterous spaceers who were making
their rather erratic way back to their boats after a long night, or
day and night of it. Fortunately there were plenty of them about –
and since all drunk spaceers are grey in the dark, even if the
Legionnaires could identify me on sight, which I doubted – I made
my way to within thirty meters of the gig by choosing my mates and
stopping to relieve myself when they veered off course. I stood in
the dark shadow of a longboat studying my gig glistening in the
moon light while awaiting another band of spaceers to get me near
enough to make a final dash for it. I didn't see any sign of the
Legion, but I was still certain they'd be lurking somewhere in the
deep shadows of the surrounding boats.

A robot crawler clanked by pulling a train of
cargo-laden trailers behind it ,steering towards my gig. I slipped
out of the shadow, climbed on one of the trailers and crouching,
hitched a ride that took me within five meters of my gig. I keyed
open the hatch with my com link, slipped off the trailer and
dashed, still crouching to the gig's – oh, so slowly – opening
hatch. The widening patch of light shining on the tarmac from the
gig's interior no doubt tipped off the Legion that I'd arrived.
They sprang into action.

They'd been waiting in a large longboat parked close
by and tumbled out as soon as the gig's hatch opened. More dark
shapes materialized out of the shadows of the surrounding boats as
well, as I ducked under the rising hatch without waiting for the
steps to descend and lunged in. Blue flashes peppered the tarmac
and sparked off the gig as I reached the gig's deck. I rolled,
found my feet to slam the hatch switch to close the hatch and
turned to return fire. As I did so, a hulking legionnaire reared up
in front of me from beneath the gig, intent on grabbing me and
hauling me out. There was a flash of blue outlining his form and he
shuddered and fell into me, pushing me half on my back. I shoved
him out, back onto the tarmac just in time to allow the gig's hatch
to close – outlined in a sheen of blue light.

I'd made it. They couldn't take the gig. Not with
hand weapons. I slumped for a second and dove for the control
compartment aft. I swung around the control console and hit the
jets. I had the gig a couple of meters up in an instant balancing
on its hot taxi jets and began to sweep it forward to drive the
Legion back and scorch them if I could. My store of pity had been
depleted some time ago. In the night view screen I watched them
scurry under nearby boats, and sickened of the whole affair, I shot
up to the black marbled sky of the Nine Star Nebula and the
Lost
Star
.

Only when I was in space did I have time to process
that last attack. I had the distinct, though fleeting impression,
that the last legionnaire was shot in the back by a slim figure in
the shadows, several boats away. Most likely Cin. I could almost
believe I'd seen her in that instant standing, braced, arms out
aiming at me as the hatch shut. The final shot that hit the hatch
was hers too. Both shots were likely meant for me, or the second
one would have been unnecessary. It is possible that she shot the
legionnaire and the second shot was from someone else – there were
lots of darts about, but I rather doubt it. She'd come too far and
paid too high a price to let me slip away again. And yet I did,
once more. I wonder how St Bleyth will treat her... Hopefully, I'll
never know. I can live with that.

01

Despite all the alarms and adventures of the evening,
it was only midway through the fifth watch, when I docked the gig
on the
Lost Star
's starboard gangplank. Given my warning
that the lunch might turn into something longer, neither Bar nor
Say had grown alarmed. And though I was showing a great deal of
wear, I managed to get to my quarters unseen and unquestioned,
acting the part of tramp captain who'd been out with the tramp
captains for ten hours. The picnic crew arrived an hour after me,
and not in any better shape, on average.

I didn't get much sleep. I lay in my hammock
reviewing and reliving the events of the day over and over. They
were a not a very cheery gang, early in the second watch until I
ordered everyone to get the ship ready to sail. They quit their
grumbling and sprang, as well as their condition allowed, into
action when they learned we could clear Despar.

I said nothing of my adventures, not false modesty,
just embarrassment. I'd done exactly like I told everyone not to
do, and almost paid with my life for it. Only Cin's determination
to kill me slowly kept me alive through it all.

I called down to Patrol HQ and asked for an escort
out of the reef, in view of the ship's unpopularity with elements
of the Despar Navy. They claimed they did not have any ship
available for escort. But they were willing to resupplying our
missile batteries from captured Despar naval stores at a discount.
I took them up on the offer and by evening we had a weapons barge
up alongside transferring all the anti-meteor (i.e. anti-ship)
missiles and the smaller, anti-missile missiles our depleted
magazines could hold. The following day I moved the ship to the
fueling station and turned it over to Riv to oversee the fueling.
We still had the extra tanks in hold no.1 and I had those filled
too, even though we'd be traveling hollow.

I didn't bother to advertise for cargo or visit the
local ship brokers. I wouldn't trust any available cargo from
Despar, nor did I want to advertise where I was sailing. I'd kept
my decision to sail to the Amdia system to myself, so everyone
onboard assumed we were sailing for either Zilantre to pick up a
cargo or direct to Aticor. We were still in the drifts, and while
the Patrol had broken up the Confederacy of Despar's attempt at an
empire, I was certain a fair amount of Despar naval forces were
still scattered out and about. The Despar Reef was large and the
drifts vast.

I'd one other issue to deal with – staffing. We were
now missing four of the crew that had sailed with us from
Sanre-tay, my first mate and third pilot, environmental engineer
and my fourth engineer. I'd no intention of filling any of those
positions from the pool of spaceers available in Despar, or
anywhere in the drifts, for that matter, so it meant sailing short
handed. I'd have to do my turn at the helm, which I didn't mind,
it'd just be like old times. Amazing how fast a year ago can sink
into old times... Illy would have to once again take the other
vacant watch as a pilot until we reached our first Unity port of
call. We'd get by, we weren't that stretched. I wasn't worried on
that score. The question I had to settle was who'd fill Vynnia's
role as first mate.

I found Illy in her small office. She had little work
to do, since we were sailing hollow and had purchased little more
than the missiles and fuel since I'd given the orders to sail.

'How anxious are you to return to your old duties as
first mate?' I asked her as I settled into a chair across her
desk.

She settled back and took me in. 'Can I gather from
the phrasing of that question, that you've someone else in
mind?'

'Only because I'm operating under the assumption that
you'd not want the job, and would take it only if absolutely
necessary, for only as long as it was absolutely necessary,' I
replied carefully, watching her as well. We'd a nearly perfect
understanding, but the position was hers to decline. She'd held it
for decades and taught me the job, and was neither captain nor
first mate now only by her choice. 'I'd be perfectly happy if I'm
mistaken, or you've gotten bored as purser.'

'You're not, and I've not. Who are you thinking of?'
she asked. First mates are often, but not necessarily pilots.

I'm thinking of Molaye,' I said, and hurried on. 'I
know she's young and has only been aboard and, indeed, a spaceer
for little more than three years, but I think she's a natural
spaceer. And she has the drive and ambition to take on the role.
Perhaps I'm more proud of her than I should be, my first protege
and all, but I think she can handle the job, with our help. We've a
long voyage ahead of us to break her into the job... And well,' I
paused.

'And well, what?' asked Illy with a small smile.

'And well, I've a few, ah, discussions with young
Molaye, and let's say, she's not afraid to speak up. I realize I'm
not that imposing, but still... I don't mind that she's strong
willed, it'll make it easier to handle the position. She's someone
I can work with and rely on. She was ever so cool when things got
hot back there on the way to Boscone And despite being only twenty
five or six I think she can handle the job easily. A first mate at
25 is hardly unheard of.'