Poisoned Pawn (3 page)

“Third one’s fine,” he said and went in.

Jasyn had done the cabins and lounge area. The hatch, which doubled as an airlock, opened into the lounge. Towards the front of the ship was the cockpit, with a door that could be closed. The cockpit held four people, two pilots, a navigator, and a com tech who also ran scanners. It was small enough that one person could reach all the controls from one chair, though. The seating area between the hatch and the cockpit had cushions in a green striped print Jasyn had made. I knew how to sew, I’d been forced to learn in the orphanage where I grew up, but until I’d watched Jasyn, I’d never believed it would ever be useful or enjoyable to do it. She’d painted the storage lockers above and behind the benches in a soft cream. She planned to add flowers sometime.

To the rear of the room was a small galley, an actual cooking area. Most small ships had the dispenser unit that took freeze dried foods, added water, and heated them up, producing sludge that was barely edible. Jasyn liked to cook. I liked to eat. Both of us had felt the money spent on real cooking equipment was well worth every credit. The center of the room held a table with four chairs bolted to the floor around it. The cushions on them, courtesy of Jasyn again, were a darker green. The floor was covered with a fibermat carpet, guaranteed to withstand the wear, dark brown with a pattern of leaves subtly woven in with lighter browns.

Behind the galley were two doors. One led down into the engine access areas. The other led up into a small cargo bay, fully heated and pressurized, lined with individual bins that locked. Behind that were two more cargo bays, large ones, that were vacuum in flight and unheated. The small cargo bay was mostly empty. I’d made a few speculative purchases that might pay off someday, mostly spices from vendors on Tebros.

There were four cabins across the lounge area. My cabin was directly behind the cockpit, Jasyn had the one next to that. There were enough bunks for a crew of twelve, stacked two deep in our cabins, two sets of four crammed in the other two cabins. Our ship was comfortable, pleasant, though small.

I’d overhauled the engines and controls. Jasyn and I were justifiably proud of the ship we’d put together from a broken down hulk.

I went forward to the cockpit and called up Viya Control.

“Phoenix, this is Viya Station,” a prim voice answered.

“I’m filing flight plans. We want a departure window within the hour.”

“We have a hold on your ship, please wait.” The prim voice was replaced with soft static.

I drummed my fingers on the control panel, waiting. Preflight checks were going to take us most of that hour, I hoped we’d still be able to get it.

“Your ship is denied undocking,” the prim voice came back.

“Why?”

“A pilot registered to your ship is in custody. You have to resolve the problem, and pay fines.”

“If her name is Letha Toomis, she broke contract. She isn’t crew anymore. I hired a new pilot about ten minutes ago.”

“One moment, please.” The voice went away again.

Clark came into the cockpit, sliding into the copilot’s chair with a grace that spoke of lots of experience in small ships. He ran his hands expertly down the rows of switches and sliders. I saw his hands pause by the engine power controls. Those were overpowered. I wanted extra speed if I needed it. He shot me one unreadable glance and moved on. I listened to static and waited for him to find the scanning equipment. Half of it wasn’t available, usually, to non-Patrol ships. I’d found it, curiously enough, in a second hand shop. I suspected someone in the Patrol, that I knew and wished I didn’t, had put it there just so I could buy it. He knew I couldn’t resist it.

“I’m sorry,” the voice said in my ear. “You’ll have to come to Station Administration.”

“But…”

She cut me off. I bit back the nasty words I wanted to say.

“Trouble?” Clark asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.” I got out of the chair. “When Jasyn gets back, tell her I had to go talk to Admin. She’s tall, dark hair, wearing a green suit like mine. Tell her you’re the pilot I hired.”

I went before I could talk myself out of it. I hated dealing with authority. I hated the station. I hated the situation Letha had put me in. I grumbled to myself all the way to the offices of the Station Administrator. They sent me into his office, not an underling’s. Not a good sign.

The Station Administrator was an older man, mostly bald, with sharp eyes hiding under hooded lids. He steepled his fingers and glared, nostrils flared as if he smelled something bad.

“Sir?” I asked.

“Your pilot caused quite a bit of damage,” he said, his voice flat and dry. “She also has a criminal record and falsified certification.”

My heart sank. This was going to be nasty.

“Her credentials checked out. I hired her on Tebros, from the port employment board. They cleared her.”

“And the damage to my station?” His nostrils flared wider, showing huge black pits above his thin lips. “You nearly destroyed it with your stunt in that courier ship.”

“The Patrol cleared me of any charges,” I answered, my teeth clenched against what I really wanted to say. “A bar fight is not the same. One I didn’t start and was trying to resolve when my pilot punched me. Fine her for the damages. She broke contract.”

“A bar fight is the least of the damage,” he answered, his voice rising to a cold snarl. “We have information that you are working for the Targon Syndicate. We have evidence of sabotage against my station.”

I shut my mouth and tried to think of a good explanation. Considering I had no idea what was going on, it was a bit difficult.

“This time you aren’t going to weasel out of the charges.” The Administrator rose to his feet. “I am personally going to space you and the pirates you work for.”

“I don’t work for pirates,” I said, my anger rising even as the sick feeling in my gut grew.

“Belliff,” he said, sitting back down with satisfaction.

“Belliff is, was, part of the Targon Syndicate,” I said, understanding dawning. “Blast.”

“You’re caught in your own lies,” the Administrator said smugly.

“Sir, I’m sorry I ever set foot on Viya.” I leaned over the desk. “I am not, and never did, work knowingly or willingly for the Targon Syndicate. Throw the book at Letha whatever her name really is, but leave me out of it. And I promise never to come back here again.”

“You’re banned from this station either way,” he said. “And I’m putting you under arrest until the Patrol can collect you.”

“Commander Lowell put you up to this, didn’t he?”

He frowned. A light blinked on his desk. “What?” he snapped, annoyed at being interrupted. He shot me a glare and turned on a privacy screen. I could see him talking but didn’t hear anything. I watched his face go from triumph to frustration to anger. He swung his chair away from me, talking into a handset, after shooting me a searching look.

I shifted from foot to foot. I was running out of time if I still wanted to be able to pay docking fees and leave. I kept glancing at the wall screen. Time crawled by. The Administrator finally swung his chair back around and dropped the privacy screen. He looked pale and resigned. His nostrils had gone back to a more normal size.

“Your ship is cleared to undock,” he said, words clipped short as if they tasted very bad.

I stepped back. I was puzzled, but unwilling to question him in case he got offended and decided to make good on his threat to arrest me and shove me out an airlock without a helmet.

“And Captain Dace? If you ever come to Viya again, you will be placed under arrest immediately. Go away and don’t come back.” He savagely punched buttons on his desk. I had been warned and dismissed. I went.

Jasyn was at the ship when I got back, loading cargo through the larger back hatch.

“Did someone die?” she asked as she paid off the cargo hauler, dropping credits in its robotic mouth until it rumbled away.

“I wish Letha had.” I shut the hatch and sealed it. “She convinced Station Admin that I still work for Belliff’s pirates.” We headed for the airlock. “I’ve been banned for life from the station. That I don’t mind. What do you think of the pilot I found? Although it doesn’t matter, he’s the only one available.”

“You have got to be joking,” Jasyn said as the airlock door swung open.

I shook my head and entered my ship.

“How about I deal with the dock supervisor and pay our fees?” she said. “Maybe I can avoid being fined just for being named Dace.” She shook her head as she took a credit chip out of the ship’s safe. “Jerimon wasn’t joking when he warned me away from you.”

I stuck out my tongue.

She laughed. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

The ship hummed underfoot. The engines were on, warming up. I went to the cockpit. Clark leaned over my half of the controls, talking on the com. He looked up as I came in.

“We have clearance to leave as soon as the fees are paid,” he said, moving back into his own side of the controls.

I took my seat. “Jasyn’s dealing with that.” I looked over the boards. The lights flickered green as the systems checked in. We’d paid extra for autocircuits. It was worth the cost not to have to crawl in the engines and do the checks manually.

The hatch slid shut. Jasyn joined us, sliding in behind Clark’s seat. I pushed the com button and got final clearance. We heard the clanks as the station umbilicals were detached. There was a gentle shove from the station docking clamps as the ship was released. I used the thrusters to push us clear.

“Heading seven four three,” Jasyn said.

I pushed the engines while Clark swung us around to point the right direction. Viya traffic control sent us a course away from the station. We spent the next hour following it, building up speed to the jump point. Clark, I was happy to see, was very competent and had obviously had experience flying small ships.

We hit the jump point, going just fast enough for a smooth transition. The hyperdrive came on line, the ship settled into a gentle hum just on the edge of hearing. It was sweet. It had taken me four days of sweat and battered knuckles to get the drive balanced. I shut the sublight engines down and swung my seat around.

“Where are we going?” I asked Jasyn.

“Cargo delivery to Dru’Ott. We should be there in about three days. Going by the estimated speed we made from Tebros to Viya. Good work with those engines, Dace.”

Clark looked over his shoulder at Jasyn. His eyes widened. He tried to swivel his neck farther. His chair moved and he bashed me with his knee. I stood, giving Jasyn a warning by raised eyebrow.

“Jasyn, this is our new pilot, on temporary contract, Trevyn Clark.”

“Hi,” he said.

I left the two of them alone. I should have been used to anything male ignoring me as soon as they met Jasyn. It happened often enough. I went to the galley to find lunch. I was hours past due to eat. I pulled out a handful of Jasyn’s latest variety of cookies and turned to put them on the table. I was surprised to find Clark there, looking as if he wanted to talk to me. I glanced past him at Jasyn. She had turned her chair around to face into the lounge and frowned at Clark’s back. She saw my look and shook her head.

“Do you stand watches?” Clark asked.

“Are you volunteering for the off shift?” I wondered why he was talking to me and not Jasyn.

“If you want me to,” he said.

I put the cookies on the table, watching him.

“You’re looking at me suspiciously again,” he said and sat down, helping himself to a cookie.

“Why do you want the off shift? So you have access to the com unit without us listening? Or are you planning on breaking something? Or reprogramming the nav system?” The only one of those things he could do in hyperspace was break something. Coms didn’t work, you couldn’t send messages, you couldn’t track ships, and you couldn’t change the course once in hyperspace.

He stopped with the cookie almost to his mouth. “Why would I want to do any of those things?”

I took the cookie away from him. “First of all, I don’t trust you. And I won’t until… Well, until I feel like I can. And second, that was mine. Get your own.” I wasn’t sure why I didn’t quite trust him. Probably because he should have been drooling over Jasyn, not snitching my cookies.

“You actually cook on the ship?”

“Not me. Jasyn.” Another reason men liked her. My cooking skills were nonexistent, despite the ferocious efforts of the staff at the orphanage on Tivor. The director’s forte had been oral hygiene. I wasn’t a fanatic in that area, but her constant tirades about germs and bad breath had sunk in.

Clark popped the lid off the tin of cookies, then settled at the table with them.

Jasyn joined us. She sat across from me and stared pointedly at Clark. He munched cookies with a look of pure bliss on his face. I pulled the tin away from him, my own mouth full. He finished chewing and looked at me, at the tin, over at Jasyn, then back at me.

“Forget the bonus,” he said. “Real food on a ship. I’ve died and gone to spacer heaven.”

“You get to wash up.” I was trying hard not to like Clark and failing miserably. Which only made me more determined not to like him. “And we don’t bother with standing watch. The ship has full automatics.”

“So what did the dragon captain make you promise in your contract?” Jasyn asked Clark.

“A one way trip to wherever it is you’re going. Free of charge, except now she’s going to make me do the dishes.” He reached for another cookie.

“She’s a slave driver,” Jasyn said.

“What kind of contract are you under?” Clark asked her, although he was still looking mostly at me. And the remaining cookies.

“I’m half owner.” She shot me a smug look. She was as proud of her name on the deed of ownership as I was of mine.

“Nice ship,” Clark said, finishing his cookie. “Although some of the equipment is not exactly standard.” He waited for me to answer.

I picked up a cookie and ate it, very slowly, deliberately not answering. Jasyn pulled out a nail file and worked on her nails. He waited, feeling the silence build.

“Well, that seems to answer that,” he said after a very long few minutes. “Do you have a ship schedule?”