The Ship Who Won (4 page)

cabin where her painting gear was stowed.

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To any planetbound home-owner the cabin looked spot-less, but to another spacer, it was a magpies nest. Keffs

exercise equipment occupied much of one end of the

cabin. At the other, Carialles specially adapted rack of

painting equipment took up a largish section of floor space,

not to mention wall space where her finished work hung-the ones she didn't give away or throw away. Those few

permitted to see Cans paintings were apt to call them

"masterpieces," but she disclaimed that.

Not having a softshell body with hands to manage the

mechanics of the art, she had had customized gear built to

achieve the desired effect. The canvases she used were very

thin, porous blocks of cells that she could flood individually

with paint, like pixels on a computer screen, until it oozed

together. The results almost resembled brush strokes. With

the advance of technological subtleties, partly thanks to

Moto-Prosthetics, Carialle had designed arms that could

hold actual fiber brushes and airbrushes, to apply paints to

the surface of the canvases over the base work.

What had started as therapy after her narrow escape

from death had become a successful and rewarding hobby.

An occasional sale of a picture helped to fill the larder or

the fuel tank when bonuses were scarce, and the odd gift

of an unlooked-for screen-canvas did much to placate

occasionally fratchety bureaucrats. The sophisticated servo

arms pulled one microfiber canvas after another out of the

enameled, cabinet-mounted rack to show Simeon, who

appreciated all and made sensible comments about

several.

'That ones available," Carialle said, mechanical hands

turning over a night-black spacescape, a full-color sketch of

a small nocturnal animal, and a study of a crystalline mineral deposit embedded in a meteor. 'This one I gave Keff.

This one I'm keeping. This ones not finished. Hmm.

These two are available. Sos this one."

iiir, Stilf \VtiU WUTM

Much of what Carialle rendered wouldn't be visible to

the unenhanced eyes of a softshell artist, but the sensory

apparatus available to a shellperson gave color and light to

scenes that would otherwise seem to the naked eye to be

only black with white pinpoints of stars.

'That's good." Simeon directed her camera to a spacescape of a battered scout ship traveling against the distant

cloudlike mist of an ion storm that partially overlaid the

corona of a star like a veil. The canvas itself wasn't rectan-gular in shape, but had a gentle irregular outline that

complimented die subject.

"Um," Carialle said. Her eye, on tight microscopic

adjustment, picked up flaws in some individual cells of

paint. They were red instead of carmine, and the shading

wasn't subtle enough. "It's not finished yet."

"You mean you're not through fiddling with it. Give

over, girl. I like it."

"Its yours, then," Carialle said with an audible sigh of

resignation. The servo picked it out of the rack and headed

for the airiock on its small track-treads. Carialle activated a

camera on the outside other hull to spot a technician in the

landing bay. "Barldey, would you mind taking something for

the stationmaster?" she said, putting her voice on speaker.

"Sure wouldn't, Carialle," the mech-tech said, with a

brilliant smile at the visible camera. The servo met her

edge of the dock, and handed the painting to her.

"You've got talent, gal," Simeon said, still sharing her

video system as she watched the tech leave the bay. 'Thank

you. I'll treasure it."

"It's nothing," Carialle said modestly. "Just a hobby."

"Fardles. Say, I've got a good idea. Why don't you do a

gallery showing next time you're in port? We have plenty

of traders and bigwigs coming through who would pay

good credit for original art. Not to mention the added

cachet that it's painted by a brainship."

^1 Iff I/I/ A"-

"We-ell..." Carialle said, considering.

"I'll give you free space near the concessions for the first

week, so you're not losing anything on the cost of location.

If you feel shy about showing off, you can do it by invitation only, but I warn you, word will spread."

"You've persuaded me," Carialle said.

"My intentions are purely honorable," Simeon replied

gallantly. "Frag it!" he exclaimed. The speed of transmission on his frequency increased to a microsquirt. "You're as

loaded and ready as you're going to get, Carialle. Put it

together and scram off this station. The Inspector General

wants a meeting with you in fifteen minutes. He just told

me to route a message through to you. I'm delaying it as

long as I dare."

"Oh, no!" Carialle said at the same speed. "I have no

intention of letting Dr. Sennet T am a psychologist' Maxwell-Corey pick through my brains every single fardling

time I make stationfall. I'm cured, damn it! I don't need

constant monitoring."

"You'd better scoot now, Cari. My walls-with-ears have

heard rumors that he thinks your 'obsession' with things

like Myths and Legends makes your sanity highly suspect.

When he hears the latest report-your Beasts Blatisant-you're going to be in for another long psychological profile

session, and Keff along with you. Even Maxwell-Corey has

to justify his job to someone."

"Damn him! We haven't finished loading my supplies! I

only have half a vat of nutrients, and most of the stuff Keff

ordered is still in your stores."

"Sorry, honey. It'll still be here when you come back. I

can send you a squirt after he's gone."

Carialle considered swiftly whether it was worth calling

in a complaint to SPRIM over the Inspector General and

his obsessive desire to prove her unfit for service. He was

witch-hunting, of that she was sure, and she wasn't going to

be the witch involved. Wasn't it bad enough that he

insisted on making her relive a sixteen-year-old tragedy

every time they met? One day there was going to be a big

battle, but she didn't feel like taking him on yet.

Simeon was right. The CK-963 was through with

decontamination and repairs. Only half a second had

passed during their conversation. Simeon could hold up

the IGs missive only a few minutes before the delay would

cause the obstreperous Maxwell-Corey to demand an

inquiry.

"Open up for me, Simeon. I've got to find Keff."

"No problem," the stationmaster said. "I know where

he went."

"Keff," said the wall over his head. "Emergency transmission from Carialle."

Keff tilted his head up lazily. "I'm busy, Simeon. Privacy." Susa's hand reached up, tangled in his hair, and

pulled it down again. He breathed in the young woman's

scent, moved his hands in delightful counterpoint under

her body, one down from the curve other shoulder, pushing the thin cloth of her ship-suit down; one upward,

caressing her buttocks and delicate waist. She locked her

legs with his, started her free hand toward his waistband,

feeling for the fastening.

"Emergency priority transmission from Carialle,"

Simeon repeated.

Reluctantly, Keff unlocked his lips from Susa's. Her eyes

filled with concern, she nodded. Without moving his head,

he said, "All right, Simeon. Put it through."

"Keff," Carialles voice rang with agitation. "Get down

here immediately. We've got to lift ship ASAP."

"Why?" Keff asked irritably. "You couldn't have finished

loading already."

"Haven't. Can't wait. Got to go. Get here, stat!"

Sighing, Keff rolled off Susa and petulantly addressed

the ceiling. "What about my shore leave? Ladylove, while I

like nothing better in the galaxy than being with you

ninety-nine percent of the time, there is that one percent

when we poor shell-less ones need-"

Carialle cut him off. "Keff, the Inspector Generals on

station."

"What?" Keff sat up.

"He's demanding another meeting, and you know what

that means. We've got to get as far away from here as we

can, right away."

Keffwas already struggling back into his ship-suit. "Are

we refueled? How much supplies are on board?"

Simeons voice issued from the concealed speaker.

"About a third full," he said. "But its all I can give you right

now. I told you supplies were short. Your foods about the

same.

"We can't go far on that. About one long run, or two

short ones." Keff stood, jamming feet into boots. Susa sat

up and began pulling the top other coverall over her bare

shoulders. She shot Keff a look of regret mingled with

understanding.

"We'll get missing supplies elsewhere," Carialle promised. "What's the safest vector out of here, Simeon?"

TU leave," Susa said, rising from the edge of the bed.

She put a delicate hand on his arm. Keff stooped down and

kissed her. 'The less I hear, the less I have to confess if

someone asks me under oath. Safe going, you two." She

gave Keff a longing glance under her dark lashes. "Next

time."

Just like that, she was gone, no complaints, no recrimi-nations. Keff admired her for that. As usual, Carialle was

correct: a brawn's ideal playmate was another brawn. It

didn't stop him feeling frustrated over his thwarted sexual

encounter, but it was better to spend that energy in a useful manner. Hopping into his right boot, he hurried out

into the corridor. Ahead of him, Susa headed for a lift. Keff

deliberately turned around, seeking a different route to his

ship.

"Keep me out of Maxwell-Corey's way, Simeon." He ran

around the curve of the station until he came to another

lift. He punched the button, pacing anxiously until the

doors opened.

"You're okay on that path," the stationmaster said, his

voice foUowing Keff. The brawn stepped into the empty

car, and the doors slid shut behind him. "All right, this just

became an express. Brace yourself."

"What about G sector?" Carialle was asking as Keff

came aboard the CK-963. All the screens in the main cabin

were full of star charts. Keff nodded Carialle's position in

the main column and threw himself into his crash couch as

he started going down the pre-launch list.

"Okay if you don't head toward Saffron. That's where

the Fleet ships last traced Belazirs people. You don't want

to meet them."

"Fragging well right we don't."

"What about M sector?" Keff said, peering at the chart

directly in front of him. "We had good luck there last

time."

"Last time you had your clock cleaned by the Losels,"

Carialle reminded him, not in too much of a hurry to tease.

"You call that good luck?"

"There're still a few systems in that area we wanted to

check. They fitted the profile for supporting complex life-forms," Keff said, unperturbed. "We would have tried

MBA-487-J, except you ran short of fuel hotdogging it and

we had to limp back here. Remember, Cari?"

"It could happen any time we run into bad luck," Carialle replied, not eager to discuss her own mistakes. "We're

running out of time."

"What about vectoring up over the Central Worlds cluster? Toward galactic 'up'?"

"Maxwell-Corey's going toward DND-922-Z when he

leaves here," Simeon said.

Carialle tsk-tsked. "We can't risk having him following

our scent."

Keff stared at the overview on the tank. "How about we

head out in a completely new direction? See what's out

there thataway?"

"What's your advice, Simeon?" Carialle asked, locking

down any loose items and sliding her airlock shut with a

sharp hiss. Her gauges zoomed as she engaged her own

power. Nutrients, fuel, power cells all showed less than

half full. She hated lifting off under these circumstances,

but she had no choice. The alternative was weeks of interrogation, and possibly being grounded-unfairly!-at the

end of it.

"I've got an interesting anomaly you might investigate,"

Simeon said, downloading a tile to CariaUes memory.

"Here's a report I received from a freighter captain who

made a jump through R sector to get here. His spectro-scopes picked up unusual power emanations in the vicinity

of RNJ-599-B. We've no records of habitation anywhere

around there. Could be interesting."

"G-type stars," Keff noted approvingly. "Yes, I see what

he meant. Spectroanalysis, Cari?"

"All the signs are there that RNJ could have generated

planets," the brain replied. "What does Exploration say?"

"No ones done any investigation in that part of R sector

yet," Simeon said blandly, carefully emotionless.

"No one?" Carialle asked, scrolling through the files.

"Hmmm! Oh, yes!"

"So we'll be the first?" Keff said, catching the

excitement in CariaUes voice. The burning desire to go

somewhere and see something first, before any other

Central Worlder, overrode the fears of being caught by the

Inspector General.

"I can't locate any reference to so much as a robot

drone," Carialle said, displaying star maps empty of neon-colored benchmarks or route vectors. Keff beamed.