In the Black (23 page)

Sam leaned in toward the screen. “You go ahead and try. I’ll get the Guild on your ass so fast you won’t walk straight for a week.” She pointed at herself. “I am the captain and I’m in charge here. I will not cower in a corner.”

“Okay. Okay.” He exhaled. “I understand.” Daniel shook his head. “Just tell me you’re not this bossy in bed.” One edge of his mouth curled up. “Not that I’d complain much.”

She couldn’t help smiling, despite her anger. “Guess you’ll have to wait to find out.”

Daniel chuckled. “I’ll beep you as soon as the Guild gets back to me. Just stay frosty, hmm?”

“Always.” She put her hand to her mouth and hesitated, shocked at her reaction.

She was about to blow him a kiss.

He grinned as if he knew what she was holding back. “I’ll collect later.”

The screen went blank.

Damn him. She slapped the release on the harness and floated up out of the chair.

“Collecting on what?” Jenny appeared overhead, her head and shoulders coming out of one of the vents. “You need something?”

“Are you okay?” Sam eyed the mechanic. She’d seen people break down before but she suspected this was a whole new area for Jenny. “I thought I told you to stay in your quarters. Again.” Sharper words were on the tip of her tongue but one look at Jenny’s face kept Sam quiet. The woman might be the best mechanic flying on Guild ships but murder and near-suicides weren’t something Jenny could be expected to deal with.

Not to mention the other women and men had plenty to keep them busy locked up in their rooms and lots of space to do it in. Jenny’s quarters and her own had to have been supply closets when the
Belle
was first commissioned—too small for anything but sleeping. Moving around might be the best therapy for her shattered nerves.

“I just—” Jenny shrugged, the threadbare coveralls sliding on her shoulders. “I just couldn’t stop thinking. Figured I’d be better off working on the repairs.”

“We have any left?” Sam smiled. “Thought we were all done and ready to go.”

“Nothing major. It’s sort of preventative stuff. Belle can vouch for where I’ve been and all that if the marshal wants to know anything.”

Sam nodded. “It’s good. He won’t mind you doing your job. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Sort of.” She scratched behind one ear. “Never seen Bianca like that. I mean, I knew her and Halley were together, but not that much in love—” She shook her head. “Don’t know if I’d ever want to be that connected to someone to feel like that when they’re gone.”

A dull pain started in Sam’s gut. “Yeah, I know.” She pressed one hand against her middle, willing it away.

“We were lucky your marshal got around behind her.” Jenny gave a visible shudder. “I don’t want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t gotten to her in time. You, me—”

“How easy is it to get into those tunnels of yours?” Sam interrupted, not wanting to pursue that line of thinking. “Daniel slipped into the galley without too much effort. Aren’t those locked up so no one can sneak around?”

A fragment of an idea began growing in the back of her mind. Whether it was Sean or Dane, the killer had had to get on and off the
Belle
without anyone knowing. It was a vital part of the crime.

“Oh no,” Jenny said, a touch of annoyance in her voice. “You’re not putting this one on me. That marshal had Belle all opened up like a two-dollar whore with his authority codes. No hacking there, nothing I left open.”

“How secure is the undercarriage?” Sam asked. “Like, if I wanted to sneak off the ship?”

“I’d tell you not to try,” Jenny said. “You’d be lost in a minute if you didn’t know where you were going. Take a wrong turn and you’d end up maybe stuck against an engine, unable to turn around.” She tapped her temple with a finger. “Can’t be claustrophobic if you’re working this ship, any ship. Also can’t get too heavy—your marshal got lucky he only got bumps and scrapes with a bit of dirt. He could have gotten really bashed up if he’d been much bigger.”

“Are there maps?” Sam pressed onward, her gut twisting into knots. “Printed maps?”

“There’s schematics locked up in Belle’s system,” Jenny answered. “But they’re not accessible to anyone other than me and I’ve got them memorized.” She rapped the top of her head. “I don’t have time or space to drag around a notepad. Got lost the first few weeks I was on board but since then I know these corridors inside and out.”

“But if I did my homework and maybe searched out the passages, taking notes as I went along, I could leave the ship and go through the undercarriage without Belle noticing, right?”

Jenny frowned. “I don’t know. Why would you?” The confusion on her face was honest. “Why not walk out the front door? Besides, Belle would know where you were all the time. She tracks me every time I go under to make sure I get back out safely. No point in having an AI if she can’t help me out to keep her running.”

Sam raised her voice. “Belle?”

“I’m here.” The computer voice was soft and welcoming. “What can I do for you?”

“You’ve been listening to our conversation.” Sam had gotten used to the lack of privacy long ago in the military, so being monitored by Belle wasn’t anything new.

“Affirmative.”

“Could anyone get into the undercarriage and get out of this ship without you knowing?”

“No.” Belle’s tone was harsh. “The marshal’s intrusion was only permitted by his use of his status. Even then I had to assist him in getting to the galley by giving him directions.”

“You’d know if someone was crawling around?” She pressed on.

“The undercarriage is—” Belle paused. “The undercarriage is akin to your internal organs. I know when Jenny is working and I know where. Any other human poking around, even if only to gain entry and egress would be to me like some sort of invasion of your system, like a stomach flu. You would know it and so would I.”

“Okay.” She wasn’t going to start arguing with the AI. “So how would I get off this ship without you knowing?”

“Without me knowing?” In her mind’s eye Sam imagined a frowning face. “What do you mean?”

“What I’m asking is if anyone could slip by the cameras in the landing bay and come to the arrival presentation without you knowing.”

Belle was obviously bewildered. “Why would they do that? Everyone watches you from here, from the screens in their quarters. They need to prepare for their clients.” Her voice dropped an octave. “Besides, it’s not permitted.”

Sam imagined an old-style schoolteacher standing at the front door with a wooden ruler.

“I know those are the rules,” Sam said. “But what if they wanted to see me up close and personal? Could they get out without anyone noticing?”

Jenny interrupted, her forehead furrowed with thought. “I can’t think of anyone who could do it.” She popped her index finger into her mouth and began chewing on the ragged fingernail. “I can’t think of anyone getting into the undercarriage without getting onto the ship first. The marshal got into the tunnels via the landing bay and if you’re in the landing bay you’re on camera. And Belle would know immediately.”

“So it’s impossible,” Sam pressed on.

“In my professional opinion. Or at least very difficult.” Jenny started nodding, the gesture becoming more pronounced as she kept talking. “This ship’s made to be sealed off for space travel. There’s no trap doors for anyone to come and go as they please without you or the
Belle
knowing.”

“What about the garbage chute?” Sam asked. “When we land it’s connected to the base, right?”

“Yes.” Belle took over the conversation again. “It leads to a recycling room. Men are assigned to go through the items and sort them.”

Jenny sighed. “The Guild. Always making money. If they can sell your old work boots to a fetishist, they’ll do it for a buck. But he’d be risking going straight to the incinerator—the base computer sorts organic matter along the way and reroutes that to the burner. No point in sending our spoiled fruit to the recycling room, you know?” She spread her fingers in a mock explosion. “Poof.”

Sam rubbed her temples. “Okay, so they’re not sneaking out via the garbage dump. There’s got to be a way for someone to get off this ship and back again without anyone knowing.”

“Maybe. I dunno, I never thought about it.” Jenny twisted around to glance at the monitor. “Does this have to do with Halley’s murder? Why would someone go to the presentation?” She stared at the fuzzy image. “They’d have to have a reason, right?” A panicked look came across her face. “Sam, what’s going on? Is the killer one of the crew?” She spun around as if expecting an ax-wielding monster to burst out of the vents around them. “One of the crew?” Jenny repeated, her voice rising.

“It’s a theory, nothing you need to worry about. We’re running down lots of options and that’s one of them.” Sam hit a button and the image of the limping man disappeared. Her mind raced down paths best kept from the
Belle’s
mechanic. “I need you to secure every opening in and off this ship right now, cut all the lines we’re finished with and lock them up. I don’t care if you have to weld them shut, I need them all secured. Keep Belle updated on what’s locked up. Even the ones you think would be too small for anyone to get through, every single one. Then go back to your quarters until I or Daniel give the all clear for you to come out. Don’t listen to anyone else, don’t answer to anyone else except for Belle.” She paused. “Or Chief Huckness if Daniel and I aren’t around. You can trust him.”

Jenny stared at her. “It’s going to get bad, isn’t it?”

Sam nodded. There was nothing more to be said.

“Good luck,” Jenny whispered before scrambling into another maintenance vent.

Sam waited until the noises of the mechanic’s retreat subsided before letting her breath out slowly, her lungs aching.

She could sit there and wait for Daniel to figure out who the killer was.

She could also take up knitting and install a rocking chair.

“Belle, can you tell me how many times the gravity’s been turned on in certain quarters?”

“I don’t understand your request.”

“The ship, we keep the gravity turned off unless it’s paid for, right?” Sam chose her words carefully. “Every client, every courtesan pays for the gravity to be turned on.”

“Affirmative.”

“Show me the stats for this visit so far. How often the gravity’s been turned on in the individual private quarters.”

Belle’s tone changed. “That’s not supposed to be public information, Captain. It reflects on the clients and violates the confidentiality agreement.”

“I’m not asking for identification of the clients. I’m asking for which courtesan’s been in weightlessness the most so far this cycle. I’ll take the heat for it.” Sam waited a second before realizing Belle hadn’t understood her. “I’ll take full responsibility, Belle. Alpha-alpha niner-one-one.” The words felt strange on her tongue, the special override code mentioned in the manual only once under a long litany of warnings and veiled threats for invoking it.

She couldn’t get fired for using it.

She could end up running a Charity ship.

“Captain—”

“Dig it out, Belle.”

“This will take a few minutes.” The AI sounded ticked off. “Please stand by.”

She couldn’t blame Belle for her attitude. The code was something not to be used lightly and she knew she’d pay for it somewhere down the line. Odds were even as Belle was searching the records a coded message was going to the Guild, informing them of her use.

Fuck it.

Sam slapped her harness and shoved herself up. She felt dirty, contaminated by recent events.

She couldn’t afford a full gravity shower but she could afford a clean shirt.

It only took a few seconds to reach the small room designated as her quarters. The door shut silently behind her.

She swam over to the far wall and tapped a square button. The panel slid open to show the handful of shelves, her shirts as neatly folded and lined up as if she was still in the military. The Velcro straps held them in place and now Sam undid one and pulled another olive T-shirt free.

Stripping off her sweaty shirt took a few seconds and she yanked on the laundry chute handle.

It opened easily, the wide dark passage waiting for her delivery.

Sam stared at it and then at her shirt.

“Belle, where does this chute go?” She knew the answer but needed to confirm it.

“While we are between landfalls it leads to the laundry room where Jenny would process the clothing.” The AI’s chirpy voice returned, grateful to have a mundane question to answer. “Right now the laundry is being rerouted to the industrial machines used by the base.”

Sam reached down into the shadows and felt the metal sides. Her fingers scraped rough edges as the chute dipped away, headed into the
Belle’s
undercarriage. A puff of air pushed against her hand as she stretched.

“Air jets push the laundry down the chute, right?”

“Yes. Full gravity for delivering laundry is considered a waste of resources. The air jets push the clothing down the shaft, accomplishing the same result.”

“Does this chute go straight into the industrial washers now that we’re hooked up to the base?”

“No. It arrives in the main laundry room where it is sorted by the workers who then put the clothing and sheets into separate washers to make sure our items don’t get mixed up with the base’s regular laundry. Later on the cleaned items are returned to the ship.” The curiosity was evident in the AI’s voice. “Why do you ask?”

“Just an idea.” She scrunched up her shirt into a ball. “How far would it be from one of the courtesans’ quarters to the base laundry?”

Belle fell silent for a minute. “The number would change depending on which suite you use but it would be close to a quarter-mile from the chute itself to entering the room itself.”

“Not impossible,” Sam whispered, more to herself than to Belle. “Not if you’re in good shape. Get a good length of rope and a pair of mag-boots to pull yourself back up against the air jets—”

“I have the results you requested,” Belle said.

Sam let go of the dirty shirt and let it fall, listening to the puffs of air echoing down the shaft. The chute door closed in silence. She pulled the clean shirt over her head. “Send it in here.”