Rimrunners (22 page)

"Go to hell," he said, and shoved her loose. "Go straight to hell if you're set

on it."

She grabbed his arm then, before he could get out the door. "McKenzie. You heard

anything?"

"I'm telling you there's ways things get done on this ship and ways things come

back at you on this ship and you're being a damn fool, woman. Don't be playing

games."

"Appreciated," she said, quietly. "Appreciated. What's your percentage?"

No answer.

"Yeah," she said.

"Don't be stupid. I'm telling you, I'm just telling you, is all. You can take it

any way you like."

The man confused her. Bad feelings to start with, man suddenly coming at her

like this—

"Damn few women on this ship," McKenzie said reasonably. "Hell of a waste,

Yeager."

"Me with him?"

"That too."

She suddenly liked McKenzie a lot better than she had— a little too eager to

start with, maybe, but saner than she had looked for. She touched him on the arm

with the back of her hand. "I tell you," she said, "you might be all right,

Gabe. I hope so."

He put his hand on her hip. God! she thought, nettled. He said, "I'm telling

you—you go around making cases where everything was quiet and things can happen

to you."

"That a threat?"

"No." He took the hand back. "Damn, I told you—

"You made me nervous as hell, friend. I'll tell you that. But I could have been

wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"About you being in with Hughes."

"Damn, I'm not!"

"What's Hughes' game?"

"He's a sum-bitch," McKenzie said. "Just a plain sum-bitch, no percentage in it.

Got his little clique. He may be under Bernstein, but he's got ties on the

bridge. He's got Goddard on his side. Navcomp. Goddard's a poker partner of

Kusan's and Orsini's, you follow?"

"I know Orsini."

"Goddard's a—" McKenzie shut it down. "You just watch it. I'm giving you good

advice."

"I'm listening."

"That's all. Just get clear of it. Figi and Park and me, and Rossi and Meech, we

just stay the hell out of it."

"You scared of Hughes? You got the same pull, topside, what about the scan-ops?"

"I'm not scared of Hughes. I'm just not interested in borrowing somebody else's

trouble. I'm telling you get clear of it before you mark yourself with this, you

already got people talking."

"Saying what?"

"Saying you're a damn fool. Come in here, cross the lines, stir up the whole

damn watch on old business—I don't know what Musa's game is, maybe you got him

going the same as you got half the men in this watch—but I don't say I don't

believe it about Bernstein—he hauled NG's ass out of the cold or he wouldn't be

here. And maybe there's people on this ship don't like what happened to him, but

that won't buy a thing. They won't be there when it comes head-on against you."

"You?"

"I'm not a fool either. I'm telling you, you're setting yourself up for some bad

hurt. I don't like to see that. Damn, I don't like to see that."

"I appreciate it. I do." She patted him on the arm. "You got yourself on my good

list for that. Tell you what you can do cheap, that's be eyes for me and Musa

where we can't."

McKenzie scowled. "What percentage?"

"Favor-points with me. Maybe with Bernstein, who knows?"

"Bernie's favor-points don't spend on mainday bridge, I'm telling you. You go

on, you're in for it."

"I got you clear. I got you absolutely clear."

Fitch.

"Just so you do." He came up close against her, gave her a nice little pass of

the hands she didn't mind at all. "Damn,", he said, and she said,

"You know where I bunk? Got a bottle, got some picture-stuff. Make free of it.

Anytime. You and Park and Figi."

"What else comes with it?"

"Lot else might. You want to party? I bring my mates."

Long silence.

"You're buying trouble."

"Get a few other guys. Get some bottles. We got no push on us, we got no

likelihood of an alert I know of—What d'you think?"

"Dammit—"

"Nice pictures. Got a viewer too. Tell you what, I get NG up there for about

half an hour, then you just happen by, everybody else happens by—one at a time—"

"You're crazy as he is."

"Vodka."

"Damn. All right."

She grinned, gave Gabe a peck on the cheek and a pat on backside and took out

down the aisle.

CHAPTER 17

« ^ »

We got a little trouble," was what she told NG when she caught up to him, in the

dim light down by his bunk, down by the vid. "Don't ask questions. Come on.

Fast."

And when she got him as far as the ladder to the loft: "Come on, it's all

right."

"Dammit," he said, confused-sounding.

But he went in front of her up the ladder—a lot of trust, she figured, from a

man who had lately been ambushed.

She caught him up, grabbed him by the arm and steered him right for her bunk—got

him that far and then he started pulling back.

"Where's Musa?" he asked.

"Musa's right where he needs to be. Just shut up, stay put, don't make me

trouble." She edged between him and the privacy screen, tilted up her bunk in

the dim light and pulled out a bottle, the viewer, and Ritterman's pictures, and

set them on the floor. She let the bunk down then, said, "Sit down. Don't be so

damn conspicuous," and when NG did that, sat down beside him, reached after the

bottle, uncapped it and took a drink. "Here."

He took one. She took one. He took a second; she snuggled up close, swung around

on one knee on the bunk and settled with a leg in his lap. "Dammit," he said,

catching on. He made to give her the bottle back and get up, she got her knee in

the way, got her arms around his neck and said very close to his ear:

"Didn't say we couldn't entertain ourselves. Just keep it quiet, all right, and

don't spill my bottle."

He stayed put. In half a dozen seconds he was warming up a lot, went back on the

bunk, she did, and somehow they managed not to spill the vodka.

"Where's Musa?" he asked while clothes were coming askew.

"Oh, I dunno," she said. "He's taking care of stuff. I'm just keeping you where

you can't get into trouble."

"Dammit, dammit—" he mumbled, and after that not much.

Man always did have a primary problem with sex and priorities, or maybe life

just got cheap. So he was occupied when McKenzie showed up, McKenzie with a

"Mind?"

"Help yourself," she said, and held onto NG, while NG was trying to scramble up

off the bunk. "It's all right, McKenzie was going to borrow the viewer."

"Hell!" NG said.

"It's all right," McKenzie said, and got the viewer and sat down on the bed.

"That vodka you got?"

"Sure."

"Excuse me," NG said, gone all cold, but Bet snagged him with an arm before he

could escape.

"No, no," she said, "NG, Gabe's a friend."

"Dammitall!"

"No problem," McKenzie said, all easy, and Bet hooked a knee over NG's to keep

him sitting. McKenzie thumbed the power on the hand-viewer, popped a fiche in

and took a look.

"What d'you think?"

"Shee-it," McKenzie said, "that's something."

"Let's see." She reached, while NG sat there in stony silence. She took a look,

passed it to NG.

"Not interested."

"Don't be a lump." She reached after the vodka and traded Gabe back the viewer.

"Here."

"Where's Musa?" NG asked in a flat voice, refusing the drink.

"Musa's just fine. Have a drink."

"I'm getting the hell out of here."

"You want to walk down there and get into trouble?"

"Trouble's here."

"No trouble." She pushed the drink on him. "Come on. Gabe's just sitting

look-out."

Sullen silence. But he stayed put.

"How you doin', Gabe?" While she kept her arm tight around NG.

"Fine," McKenzie said, and took another drink and passed it back.

Then Park and Figi showed up in the aisle, mostly shadow, from past the privacy

screen. "H'lo," Park said.

"Oh, damn," NG said. "What is this?"

"Party," Bet said, holding onto him. "You're invited. Stay put."

"The hell!"

"Keep it quiet. Everything's fine. Have a drink. Gabe's a friend of mine, these

are friends of his."

"What are you doing?" he asked, real quiet. "Bet, what're you doing?"

"Just be polite. Friends of mine dropped by after some stuff, it's no big

problem. Everybody knows everybody, just sit back, take a drink—"

"I want out of here," he said in that same tone. His muscles were all hard. His

voice was just over the edge of calm. "Bet, I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. Musa'd skin you. Sit still."

As Park and Figi added their heft to the load on the bunk, and the mattress

slanted a little.

"Hey, vodka," Figi said; and Bet put her arms around NG's middle, and her legs

to front and back of him, and got familiar again.

"Stop it," he said under his breath.

"Just be nice," she said, but she didn't push him, just took the bottle in her

turn and gave it to him, and he took a big drink of it, while the viewer passed

around and Park and Figi made appreciative noises. NG was tense as drawn cable,

just ready to snap, but she got another drink into him, got him to take a

desultory look at the viewer, which did him no good at all.

Then Rossi and Meech showed up with their own bottle, and sat down on the floor

in what space there was, right in the escape aisle. And a couple other strays

came in, so the viewer was going wide circles now.

And NG was just sort of back in the corner of things with her, up against the

wall, trapped, and relaxing a little when nobody turned out to notice him—and

since she curled herself around him and got her hand in his and just kept things

secure and friendly a while.

"What in hell?" Musa asked, coming up from around the curtain, and NG tensed up

all over.

"I got him," Bet said, and:

"Have a drink," McKenzie said, offering Musa the bottle.

"Shit," Musa said, but he stood there and took his drink.

"See?" Bet said into NG's ear. "Ever'thing's fine."

No word out of him, not a thing, just a shiver, NG tucking up against the wall

and staying real quiet.

So she worked at relaxing him.

"Let me alone," he said.

"Come on," she said. "It's friends."

"Dammit, let me alone"! he yelled, and shoved her and started through, but she

tackled him from the back and yelled, "Gabe, stop 'im!"

NG stepped on Meech and got tangled up, with her holding around his neck and

Gabe getting him from the front and Meech and Rossi impeding him from below.

He went crazy then, swinging on them, twisting to get loose—

"Where d'you want 'im?" Gabe called out, no soberer than he had to be, and:

"God, let me alone"! NG was yelling, fighting to get loose, while the whole mass

dumped itself generally back on the bed.

"You want us to hold 'im for you?" Park asked.

"Man's crazy," Rossi said. "Told you he was crazy."

And Musa didn't say a thing about it: Musa was one of those holding onto NG till

he was half-smothered and gasping after breath.

"Give the man a drink," Bet said. "NG ain't crazy, he's just a little nervous.

Careful, there! Sit him up!"

Because they were a little gone, having a damn good time, but gone, and NG was

gone too, out-there, deep-spaced and having trouble breathing.

"Ease off," Musa snapped, and let go to fend Rossi off pouring vodka down NG,

and shoved her hard. "Ease off, Bet, dammit!"

"Man's all right." She didn't take the shove for serious, just slipped in again

and got her hand on NG's shoulder while everything was quiet and everybody was

catching their breaths. "NG? Nobody going to hurt you. Nobody going to hurt

you."

"Go to hell," he said, teeth chattering.

"Hey, let up, let up," she said, and disengaged Rossi and McKenzie and Figi, and

Musa, one by one, everything staying quiet. God! if it got out of hand and some

drunk sod decided he was common property along with the bottles—

She got the bottle from Rossi, offered it, shaking-scared NG was going to blow

up and blow everything to hell. "Come on," she said. Like coaxing a kid out of a

hidey-hole. "NG?"

He just stared at her. Musa patted him on the shoulder, telling him it was all

right, telling him get his breath.

"You got a mate talking to you," McKenzie said, drunk and expansive. He shook at

NG's knee. "You hear 'im? Mates trying to help you, you sum-bitch. Take a

drink."

"Let me go," NG yelled, between gasps after air. "Let me go"!

"Let 'im loose," Musa said. "Let Bet have 'im."

"Get 'im drunker," somebody advised from the periphery, who else had come up to

kibitz Bet had no idea. There was a crowd gathering—dangerous, damn, the whole

thing was getting out of limits and what could happen next—

"I got 'im," she said. "Gimme the bottle."

Rossi gave it; she took a drink herself, said, "Relax," and offered a swig to

NG.

He took a deep one, drank twice between gasps for breath, and she took it back,

took another one, and peeled her suit down and got down on the bunk with NG

while the bottle went round and by-standers cheered.