The Sail Weaver (11 page)

“I didn’t know. This is really the first ship I have served on from the very beginning, I mean with the building and all. Usually I’ve joined when they are set to launch, or when I was promoted.”

“So, tell me about this ship from your perspective, nothing leaves this room.”

“She has a good crew for the most part, as I told you, we do have some pressed men, but they are a minority on this ship. Crew morale is generally good, although yesterday’s incident has started tongues wagging agai
n. Some of the crew believe it was caused by
the first five killed, trying to keep the ship from launching. They believe the bottom deck is full of bodies of convicts and others that have committed crimes against Naval code and are to be jettisoned in deep space.”

“What is the bottom deck?” Tristan asked.

“I don’t know. Captain’s discretion only. It was added onto the plans by Davis and some of the others at Headquarters, it was not part of the ship I designed. It adds a cumbersome heaviness to her lines that I would never allow. I’ve asked what it was, and that plus the incident in your office turned me into a first officer.”

“Turned you into a first officer? What do you mean?”

Barrett smiled at him, the smile wistful and bitter at the same time. “
Winged Victory…”

“Yes?”

“I was to be her Captain.”

XI

Terra Secundus was bustling in noontime traffic when Tristan left the ship. People were busily dashing in and out of the shops lining the main corridor of the major section of the station. Like a large city, the station had a “downtown” and then smaller outlying areas that functioned as suburbs. As he walked through the shopping district, he noticed people were watching him. They were used to seeing Warrior Weavers, but very few had probably seen a Sail Weaver and so the badge of rank he wore as Master Weaver was getting a lot of curious looks.

The large building housing the Guild’s offices on the station was at the far end of
the
district, and Tristan was taking his time, enjoying the walk. He knew that long walks were out once they were in deep space, although he was sure he could devise a tour through the decks that
would keep
his brain in shape. Walking always let him stay focused and he regularly walked on
Earth
to relax after a rough day or get ready for a Council meeting. When he reached the building, he was surprised, it didn’t feel like he had gone very far, but as he looked back down the street he guessed it was close to a mile.

Tristan pushed open the door, the receptionist looked up and then jumped to his feet as soon as he recognized him. Tristan hid a
smile, the poor man looked like he was ready to faint. “Master Tristan!” the receptionist said, looking nervous. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I need space to have a meeting with General Muher of the Dragon Corps, he should be here shortly. I’d also like a secure line to the Guild Master.”
As with his meeting with Muher, Tristan felt safer using the Guild office on the station for his secure communication with Brian Rhoads, saving his onboard line for emergencies.

“Yes, sir!” The receptionist sat down and punched the button on an intercom. “Karen, please come to the front desk.”

Within moments a young woman wearing a senior Warrior We
aver apprentice badge appeared.
“Master Tristan! A pleasure, sir!”

“Can you escort Master Tristan to the office on level five?”

Karen smiled. “Yes, sir. This way.” She punched a code into a security panel on the back wall and part of the wall slid open. “Blast proof,” she said casually. “When we heard you were assigned to
Winged Victory
we were hoping you would stop by the offices before you shipped out.” They stepped onto a lift. “I’m so sorry about Alden. I trained with him when I was on
Earth
. He was a good man.”

“He was.”

They stepped out of the elevator onto a floor decorated in soothing greens and browns, giving it the feeling of a park or forest. Karen led him down the hall and through another security door, this one opened onto a large office. There was a large desk and chair, an impressive array of computer monitors and a sideboard sparkling with bottles.

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

“I’d like some spiced tea, and bring coffee for General Muher, he will be here within the hour.”

“General Muher?” Karen gasped. “
The
General Muher?”

“As far as I know there is only one,” Tristan replied as he sat down at the desk. “Will you escort him up when he arrives?”

“Yes, sir, and I will get that tea right now, sir!”

Tristan nodded and waited for her to leave before powering up the computer and punching in the secure codes to contact Brian Rhoads. While he waited for the Guild Master to answer, he watched the people in the street below, mostly civilians, but there were some Naval and Weaver uniforms as well.

“Tristan!” Brian boomed over the connection. “What’s going on up there? I’ve already gotten one report from Darius.”

“I don’t know, Brian, I was hoping you might have heard something.”

“There are rumors of rumors, a lot of finger pointing and a few dragons so angry they look like a puffball factory exploded.” Rhoads laughed, but Tristan could hear the worry in the laugh. “There’s a group calling itself Galactic Freedom that took responsibility for the bombing of a cargo ship destined for
Victory
yesterday. “

“And the others?”

“Different groups.”

“That’s not helpful,” Tristan grumbled. “Things aren’t rosy onboard either.” He proceeded to bring the Guild Master up-to-date on what was happening on the
Victory
and what Riggan, the Air Weavers and Barrett had told him.

“Sir, General Muher is here,” Karen said as Tristan was closing the connection with Rhoads.

“Send him in, please.”

Muher strode into the office and sat in the chair across from him, waiting while Karen placed a cup of coffee in front of him. He watched her go, then turned to Tristan with a wink. “She likes me.”

“Hero worship is different than ‘likes you’, you know.”

“I know, more’s the pity,” Muher said with a sigh. Taking a drink of his coffee, he looked up at Tristan. “We are neck deep in a pit of vipers, aren’t we?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been doing a little poking and prodding around and there is a lot of unrest on the ship. The lower decks are close to revolution for some reason—and not against the Navy that pressed them, but against the Guild and Dragon. They are the ones who prevented Fenfyr from helping yesterday when the plating blew.” He leaned back. “And Shearer and I had a good, long look at that and, I am sure you won’t be surprised, that it was no accident. It was a small shaped charge. Really good work too. Maximum damage with minimum explosive used.”

“Why?” Tristan asked.

“Shearer thinks it’s one of those ‘Save the Vermin’ groups. I think they were trying to take out the sails.” He frowned. “They were
a little sloppy and that’s why it didn’t work. Whoever set them expected the sail to catch about ten feet lower than it did. If it had been the mainmast we would have been without sails, because as you know, once the willowisps catch they blast apart like fluff in a string wind. Lucky for us, they—whoever they are—screwed up.”

“Are you sure? Why would they be after the sails?”

“Well if it’s the STV idiots, they just want to stop us from making war on the poor, poor Vermin. I think we should introduce them to a survivor someday. If it’s someone else, I don’t know. I’ve heard rumors. You know the dragons suspect that the Navy has Vermin tech and plans to use it.”

“How would destroying the sails…?”

“Don’t ask me. There is something wrong on that ship. Fenfyr was down at that lower hatch, sniffing away. He said it smells wrong and then took off to talk to Darius. I asked for entry and was told there was no
atmo
. I pointed out there were plenty of Air Weavers and was told it was storage for a new weapon, poison to humans.”

“So which is it?” Tristan asked.

“I have no idea.” Muher set the cup down. “I heard you took Stemmer’s servant.”

“Yes.”

“He hates you, you know, maybe not specifically, but at least in general.”

“Riggan?” Tristan was confused.

“No, Stemmer. He was acquitted because the witnesses against him disappeared, but he was originally a suspect in the Stars Plot.”

“That’s why you’re here,” Tristan said.

“Yes. We need to keep you alive, and they damned near killed you last time.”

“They tried to take out the whole Guild Council,” Tristan said defensively.

“Right, they did, but that didn’t work, and as near as we can tell, they have one target now.”

“Who?”

“You.”

Tristan laughed. “Why would they kill the only person that can fly their ship?”

“Because they don’t need you? Remember they made the run at
Alden first. You’re next. They have someone lined up to step in—or at least that’s our best guess. One of my men who spends time in the less savory parts of our worlds reported that some Navy-types were looking for Rogue Weavers. Thinking about that, I heard that Alden left the Dragon Compound and disappeared. Do you think he would go Rogue?”

Tristan opened his mouth to tell Muher about his conversation with the Warrior Weaver, then stopped. The fewer people who knew what was going on, the better
,
in fact, he didn’t see anything wrong with fanning the flames a little. “He might. He was angry when I saw him, he wouldn’t be assigned to another ship for a long time.”

“But he was second…”

Shrugging, Tristan straightened some papers and sighed. “He is a proud man, and his craft was everything. I can’t see him trapped, unable to fly, so he might find a way to achieve that.” That much was true.

“It’s a pity to lose a man like that to the Rogues.”

“It is, hopefully he will come to his senses and come back to the fold,” Tristan said earnestly, wondering just what Alden was up to. If he was missing, he might already be working his way onto a ship. “What does Darius say about it?”

“Darius? He said ‘you humans are usually annoying.’ That was all I got.”

“The dragons aren’t always helpful.”

“No. We should get back to the ship before it gets late. They plan on sending out a pressgang tonight. It would be a good excuse to make a run at you.”

“Fine, give me a few minutes to finish this report and we can head back to the ship.”

“Okay by me,” Muher said, picking up his coffee and putting his feet on the desk.

When they left the Guild offices, Tristan could sense a different atmosphere in the crowds. Instead of the easy bustle of shoppers, now the area seemed to be full of people moving out of the area as quickly as possible. He could tell Muher was on edge, the man’s hand was hovering near his sidearm as they walked through the crowds. Most of the civilians smiled and moved out of their way. A
few actually stopped and thanked them for their service—a new experience for Tristan—but most seemed intent on leaving and getting out of the district.

They were halfway down the long wide boulevard when Tristan heard screams. Instinctively he turned towards them, meaning to go help, only to find himself stopped by Muher. “Don’t be a fool,” the general said.

Tristan nodded and kept going, trying to ignore the screams that were becoming more common the closer they got to the Naval docks. The
Winged Victory
did not need that many more crew members, so the pressgangs must be looking for crew for any of the ships that were currently in dock. A young woman was kneeling on the pavement, blood spilling over her shirt. Tristan clenched his fists in frustration. He wanted to help, but he knew that it could be a trap. He’d seen it when he was young, a member of the pressgang would be injured and then wait for a potential victim to come, by the time the victim realized  it was a trap, it was too late. 

“Where are you going?” a deep voice growled from the dark to their left.

“Back
to
our ship, back off,” Muher snapped.

“Now, maybe we don’t think we believe you.”

“I don’t care,” the general said, his hand still over his as yet holstered sidearm.

“We’re thinking maybe you should come along with us.”

“No.” Muher drew his gun, but a chain snapped out of the dark and wrapped around his wrist. Tristan heard the crunch as bones broke.

“Now,” the man said, stepping from the shadows with three other men. “Let’s discuss this like gentlemen.”

“No,” Tristan said.

“And you’re going to stop us, Warrior? We aren’t frightened of your kind, we’ve pressed a few of you, too.”

“I doubt that.” Tristan forced a cold smile. He would have to get that bit of information back to the Guild as soon as possible.

“It’s true. We’ve taken them and sold them to the highest bidder more than once.”

“You’re slavers?” Muher said in surprise.

“Who’d you expect, that namby-pamby pressgang working the
shopping mall? No, we came after something we could sell, something of value and him…” He pointed at Tristan. “Him would bring a good price. Warriors always do.”

“You made a mistake with this one,” another voice said softly.

“And why is that,” the slaver said, still focused on Tristan and Muher.

“Because this Warrior is my friend,” the voice continued.

“I’d listen to him,” Tristan said, grinning.

“Why?”

“Because,” Fenfyr said, stepping into their line of sight, “I am a lot bigger than you and you look very tasty?” The slavers started backing away. “I alerted the Corps patrol, they should be… Here they are now.”

Five men in Dragon Corps uniforms pulled up next to them in one of the electric cars they used for transportation on the station. Four of them go out with guns levels on the slavers. One of them headed towards Tristan and Muher with a first aid kit in his hand. He checked Muher and made sure Tristan hadn’t been hurt then turned towards the slavers. “You will be coming with us.”