Balance of Trade (16 page)

"Brew," Seeli said, and Khat heard a solid, welcome thump on the table before her. She opened her eyes just as a block of spicy local cheese and a knife landed next to the bottle.

Sighing, she had a mouthful of brew, then sliced about a third of the cheese.

Seeli sat down across, cradling her brew between her two hands, and looking about as grim as she got.

"How bad," Khat asked between bites of cheese, "is bad enough?"

Seeli sighed. "The yard wants an extra bond posted. They want a guarantee that Iza will be kept from their premises. They want the name and contact code for somebody—
not
Iza—who is empowered to speak for the ship. That person will be allowed in the offices of the yard no more than once per port-week, at pre-scheduled times. Monthly inspection of progress stays in force, so long as the inspector ain't Iza Gobelyn. Any further disturbance, and the yard will invoke breach and impound the
Market
."

Khat had another piece of cheese and a swallow of brew.

"That's bad enough," she allowed, and pointed at the cheese. "Eat."

"Later," Seeli said, and made a production out of sipping her beer.

Khat sighed. "Understand, there was a couple bad minutes when the drug went over, but I gathered that Iza had reason to believe the yard was cheatin' us."

"There might be some of that. Problem is, Iza going off the dial put us into the disadvantage with regard to amicable discovery. I've got a call in to Paitor. Crew meeting here, tomorrow port-night."

"What about Cris?"

Seeli shrugged, and stared hard down into her brew. "I beamed a precis and a plea for a recommend to his ship. Could be we'll have his answer by meeting." She looked up, face hard, which was Seeli when she'd taken a decision, no different from her ma. "We gotta settle this, Khat. Iza goes off the dial again, we could lose the
Market
. It's that near the edge."

"I hear it," Khat said, and finished her brew. "I'm for sleep, coz. Central's got me on for a hop to the station tomorrow middle day. I'll be down in plenty of time for the meeting." She stood and stretched. "Best thing would be for Iza to take a temp berth—you know she's always crazy on the ground."

"I know," Seeli said, too soft. "Sleep sound, cousin. 'preciated the assist, today."

Khat nodded and headed for the door. Before she got there, she checked and looked over her shoulder.

"Almost forgot—eight hundred ninety seven paid out from my personal account."

Seeli closed her eyes briefly. "I'll authorize the transfer from Ship's General,"

"'preciate it," Khat said, and left, on a course for sleep.

IT WAS A GRIM-FACED lot of Gobelyns gathered in the lodging's common room when Khat finally got there, dusty, hungry and all too out of patience with stationer attitude and port red tape, both.

"Sorry," she said to Seeli, who was sitting center-circle with Grig at her left hand and Paitor at her right. "They told me about the lift. Nobody thought to mention there'd be three hours of paperwork waitin' for me on station, and a matching three portside, when I got back down."

It was notable that Dyk, sitting between Mel and Zam, didn't bother to assure her that she looked fine in red tape. Seeli only nodded and pointed at the empty chair between Mel and Paitor, which seat Khat took with a fair amount of trepidation. Seeli'd called Full Circle on Iza. This was not going to be fun.

No sooner had she sat then Paitor got his feet under him and come to his full standing height. "Captain," he said, loud enough to be heard down the hall and into the next lodgings over. "Your crew wants a Word."

Khat felt some of the tightness in her gut ease. They were going to do the reasonable—well, o'course they was, she told herself, with Seeli settin' it up. So, a Word, first, with Ship's Judgement held in reserve, in case Iza wasn't inclined to meet reasonable with reasonable. Whether she'd be so inclined, Khat couldn't have said—and by the look on Seeli's face, she didn't know which way Iza was likely to jump, either.

"Iza Gobelyn," Paitor said, stern and loud. "Your crew's waitin'."

For what seemed like a long time, nothing happened. Khat realized she was holding her breath, and took note of the fact that the palms of her hands were damp.

Away down the room, something stirred, and there was Iza, long and lean and tough and walking with something less than her usual swagger.

She stopped walking just behind Grig's chair and raised her face, catching Paitor's eyes on hers.

"Well, brother?" she snapped, and Khat winced, her voice was that sharp.

"Just a Word with you, Captain," Paitor answered, smooth and calm as you please. "On a matter of ship's safety."

Say what you would about Iza Gobelyn, she was all of that, and canny, too. Another two heartbeats, she stood behind Grig, her eyes flicking 'round the Circle, touching each of their faces in turn, letting each of them see her—their mother, their cousin, their captain, who had kept them out of trouble and bailed them out of trouble; who'd kept ship and crew together for all of Khat's lifetime—and before.

When they'd all had a good look at her, and her at them, that's when she slid between Grig and Seeli and walked forward to stand in the center of the Circle, and hold her hands out, palms up and showing empty.

"I'm listenin'," she said, and let her hands fall to her sides.

Paitor sat down again, and folded his arms over his chest, face shut, eyes alert. Next to him, Seeli straightened.

"There's concern," she said, her voice firm and clear. "The yard boss ain't happy with the captain's behavior. He's gone so far as to state he'll invoke breach and impound the
Market
, in the case that Iza Gobelyn's seen on his deck again."

Iza turned lazily on her heel until she faced Seeli, which gave Khat the side of her face.

"They was shortin' us on the shielding, Admin."

"Yes, Captain, I don't doubt they was, having seen it with my own eyes. Fact remains, the yard boss has the legal on his side. He's filed a paper with the local cops, stating that one Iza Gobelyn approaches his yard at her peril. If she's found on or around, the
Market's
forfeit."

Iza glared; Khat could see it in the thrust of a shoulder.

"That's legal, is it?"

"It is," Seeli said. "And if it weren't, we'd still be outta luck, being as the cops ain't sworn to aid us."

Iza's shoulder twitched.

"On account," said Grig, his voice as hard as Khat had ever heard it, "you pitched the cop you swung on into light duty til his knee and his ribs and his nose all heal, and the cops here-port don't care to look out for them who break their mates."

"Worse," Khat said, leaning forward in her chair as Iza swung 'round to face her. "There's active malice involved. Woman on the bus told me. Comes to that, cop down the shop told me. You hurt a cop on this port, you stay outta trouble forevermore, because the day you come against another cop is the day you stop breathing."

Iza stared at her, eyes hooded, then gave her a nod. "'preciate the bail-out, cousin."

"It was expensive enough," Khat told her.

"Looks like getting more expensive before it gets less," Iza answered and turned back to face Seeli.

"Lay it out, Admin."

"All right, Captain," Seeli's voice was cool as the skin of a cargo can. "What I'm seeing is this—I'll take oversight of the upgrades and repairs. Grig, here, he's my expert on shielding, and he's already found us a second opinion, like the contract says we can have. We'll keep close watch and we won't let them get away with nothin', but we won't take no risks, neither, nor put the ship at peril."

"Fine work for you and yours, Admin. What about the captain?"

"The captain," Seeli said firmly, "should find herself a long-berth, get off Kinaveral until we're ready to go, and stay outta trouble."

In the center of the Circle, Iza laughed. "By this age in my life, you think I'd be expert in that." She turned, rotating lazily on her heel, and looked at them, one by one.

"Anybody else have a Word? Or does Admin speak for all of you?"

"In the case, Admin's on it," Mel said, while Dyk muttered, "No other Words, Captain," and Zam just shrugged his shoulders.

"And you're all staying dirtside, as I hear it, to give Admin a hand?"

"I'm signed as cook on a private yacht," Dyk said. "Lift in two days, back in 'leven month."

"Me an' Mel're for a miner," Zam said, looking down at his boots. "Signed the papers today. Lift tomorrow. Back, like, Dyk, in 'leven, and trusting our ship'll be here for us."

"Cris is already on long-haul," Khat said, since it was her turn. It've been easier to talk to her boots, like Zam, but pilots were bolder than that—Khat Gobelyn was bolder than that—and she met her captain's eyes, level. "Me, I'm all fixed as a freewing, based on-port. There's some longer lifts comin', they tell me, but most of what's on offer is shuttle work and short hops. Don't fly every day, can file 'unavailable' at decent notice, so Seeli'll have an extra hand, when she needs one."

Iza nodded, solemn-like, and looked over to Paitor.

"I'm on-port, doing some little chores for Terratrade," he said, not uncrossing his arms. "Seeli needs me, she calls, I come."

"Just like you always done, eh, brother?"

His mouth thinned some, but the rest of his face stayed bland. "That's right, Captain."

Iza turned again, past Seeli, and showed her back to Khat, full face to Grig.

"You're staying on-dirt to back up Admin, is that so, Grig Tomas?"

"That's so, Captain."

"Then you'll see the jettison list attended to proper. That would be an order, which I know you can take," she said, provoking-like, 'cept it didn't make no sense, as far as Khat had ever seen, to provoke Grig. He just went all soft and agreeable on you, an' took his revenge when you needed it least.

Except not this time.

"Beggin' the captain's pardon, but there's some things on that jettison list belong to absent crew."

"Absent crew." Khat didn't need to see Iza's face; the tone of voice was enough. She drew a careful breath and indulged in a spot of wishful telepathy, trying to send Grig a message not to whip Iza into a rage—not now, when she'd been so reasonable. . . 

"You'll be referring to Arin's son?" Iza was asking Grig.

There was a short pause, before he answered, voice neutral, "That's right, Captain."

"Spit of his father, ain't he, Grig?"

And what was this? Khat thought. Iza sounded almost conversational.

"Jethri's a good-lookin' boy. Smart, too. Done you proud, Iza."

"Ain't done me proud. Nothing to do with me,
as
you know it. Arin's boy, clear through—wouldn't you say so, Grig?" She shifted of a sudden, leaning forward hard, like she was going to grab him by the shoulders and haul him up to face her.

"Done's done, Iza. Arin's gone, and Jethri, too. Send the boy his things, and call it square."

"It'd be what's right, Iza," Paitor put in, calm, while the rest of them sat mum and stupid.

She spun to glare at him, shoulders stiff. "You think so, do you, brother? Fine, then. Send Arin's boy his things. So long as they're finally gone from my ship, I don't care where they are—destroyed or on Liad makes the same difference to me."

"That's settled then," said Seeli, shockingly matter-of-fact. "What ain't settled is what you'll do, Captain."

"Didn't think I had a choice," Iza said, turning back, and showing Seeli empty hands. "I'll go down to the hire-hall tomorrow and find myself a berth."

"I'll come with you," Khat heard her own voice say, and looked up to catch Iza's glance coming at her over one bony shoulder.

"Thanks, cousin," she said, with no shortin' the irony.

"No trouble," Khat answered, forcing herself to sound calm. "I'm not flying tomorrow and I know a couple of the sign-ons at the hall."

"Then we're square, captain and crew," Seeli said. Paitor nodded and got back on his feet.

"The crew talked, the captain heard. The ship's in harmony."

There was an uneasy sort of silence, then, like nobody knew exactly what to do, now the agreement was made and the right phrases spoke. When it had gone on long enough for Khat to start feeling it in her gut, she stood up and stretched, hands reaching for the ceiling.

"Let's all have us some brew and a snack," she said. "And say our good-byes and be-wells. We're going to be scattered across the star lanes this next while. Let's part on terms."

Dyk laughed and bounced to his feet in a sudden return to normal behavior. "Maybe I should ship out more often!"

"Maybe you should," Mel said cordially, standing up. Zam laughed. Across the circle, Seeli was up, Grig beside her, lanky and limpid like always, watching as Paitor held a hand out to Iza.

"Buy you a brew, sister?" he asked, and after a moment Iza put her hand in his.

"A brew'd be welcome, brother."

TAN SIM PEN'AKLA, adopted of Clan Rinork, left the Tilene Star Bar in a wine-induced glow of good fellowship for all beings, everywhere.

That the glow was wine-induced, Tan Sim well knew, having entered the establishment in question some hours previous with the specific intent of imbibing wine sufficient to ease the sting of the latest slight delivered by his foster kin. Since he had not cut his teeth yesterday, he was also well-aware that the wine on draw at the Star Bar was of a more virulent vintage than he was accustomed to drink, and that he had thereby made an appointment on the morrow with the very devil of a hangover.

That, however, was in the future. For the present, restored to good humor and only slightly unsteady on his feet, he sauntered, whistling unmelodically, down the supply hallway which was a shortcut to the main trading theater.

It would not do to be late to the second round of trading. Of course, his beloved foster brother Bar Jan would smell the wine; and wouldn't it just grate along his fine-drawn, High House sensibilities to be unable to send his drunkard junior away. But he dared not do that, Tan Sim thought waggishly. Oh, no, Bar Jan dared not send him away and hold the booth on his own while their mutual mother was gone a-calling. A
melant'i
-blind idiot Bar Jan might be, but he knew well enough that Tan Sim was the superior trader, in his cups or sober.