Slip Point (6 page)

“Well?” his voice asked. There was no visual—the less data sent between them, the less the risk.

“I can’t tell you what I’m doing, but it’s solo, and it may take a while. Let Creeds and the rest of them know.”

“So you took the commission.” He sounded satisfied. “What are we getting out of it?”

She swallowed. “Exclusive distribution rights to the Rim colonies of any alien goods, and pardons.” She put them in the order she thought would best please him.

There was a startled pause, and then he said mildly, “I would’ve asked him to throw in a Swallow.”

She glared at the console. “And a mighty cargo hold it has for trade goods.”

He laughed. “You’re right, we won’t have any time for joy rides when we’ve got distribution rights to the Rim. Well done, Daughter.”

“Yes, about that,” she said, shaking off the glow of his approval. “You and your ‘dearest daughter’ routine. This wasn’t a favor for you, was it? The premier asked specifically for me.”

He didn’t deny it. “I couldn’t resist his offer.”

“You sold your own daughter?” She was only half-joking.

He grew serious. “I got assurances of your safety, ones I checked on. But I also got a good price.”

“I want a cut when I get back,” she said, pushing aside any indignation. This was her father, after all.

He sighed. “This is the problem with dealing with someone who’s learned from the best. I’ll give you a sixth, and if you didn’t bargain something sweet for yourself out of the premier, that was your oversight.”

The key started blinking. “The encryption’s expiring. Take care of my crew.”

“Take care of yourself, Lin,” he said, somber again, and the key’s indicator light winked out.

He’d never said that before, even before her first space battle. Her father wasn’t a particularly paternal type, preferring to treat her as an adult. It made her wonder what had drawn him and her mother together, when they were such stark contrasts, but she never dared ask.
Take care of yourself
was the sort of sentiment her mother had expressed back on Centuris, and it worried her to hear it from her father.

Well, she was committed now. And pirates might break laws with impunity, but as her father would remind her—when he was acting like his normal self—merchants had to build up credit, in terms of both money and reputation.

She turned to the premier. “All right,” she said. “Where should I go to pick up my new cargo?”

He gave her an entry key, designed to be layered over the pad of one finger. “You’ll find them in the moonside wing on the nineteenth level, room K-three.”

“Why didn’t you just have them here for this meeting?”

“We arrived separately and under false identities,” he said. “We took what precautions we could when we came in so we wouldn’t be associated.”

“Thanks for taking the same precautions for me,” she said dryly.

“It’s your job to stay out of reach.”

It was clear it would be dangerous to be caught dealing with the premier. And to actually be him…

“Good luck, sir,” she said.

“And to you, Captain.” Courteously, he rose to see her out.

Grayson had the audacity to smile at her when she entered the outer room. She stalked past him to the door, but he stopped her.

“You look too composed.” He leaned in and ran his fingers through her hair, mussing it slightly. Then he kissed her hard enough to bruise her lips. Which was the point, she supposed. She decided she might as well enjoy it, and gave as good as she got.

He looked a bit unfocussed once she was done with him. “Not bad. Another bar, sometime off-duty…who knows?” He shot her a half-smile.

She returned it in equal measure. “Some of us have more refined tastes.”

He sighed theatrically. “It’s so hard to meet women on the job.”

It was hard to resent someone who made her laugh. That was probably his intention. Or the premier’s.

An in-person meeting with the premier. He must have wanted to assess her personally, despite his fine words about psych evaluations. She remembered the Corps officer telling her that her entry exams had been iffy. What did it mean that she had passed now, with higher stakes at hand?

She decided it reflected poorly on the Corps. In any case, she was done wondering about that fork in her life.

The station’s monorail-lift took her to the moonside wing and she found the K corridor easily enough. The first door was marked K1, of course. She glanced at her key on her finger to check the room number, only to collide with someone.

“Shay!”

For a moment she didn’t recognize the man who seized her arm. She was already twisting out of his hold, about to kick the side of his knee, when the nickname registered more than anything else. Her jaw dropped. She stared at him, resistance forgotten. “Jayce? Is that you?” Her voice rose incredulously. Of all times and places, she encountered him here and now?

He hadn’t changed much after all, still with the same reddish brown hair and unfair advantage in height. But his bearing was utterly unfamiliar. He moved with meaning and none of the restiveness that had once marked him on Centuris. It was hard to believe this was the same person she’d grown up with.

She wondered what he, in turn, saw in her.

His smile grew uncertain as he released her. “What are you doing here?”

Over the years, she had occasionally indulged in dreams of bumping into him just like this. They would fall into each other’s arms, he would forgive her for leaving him, and she would impress him with her worldliness. But this wasn’t like that at all. She had work to do and had to get rid of him. “I have business.”

“On the
Ionia
?”

“My business,” she said, “not yours.”

She moved to go around him, thinking that would end it, but to her mixed chagrin and relief, he sidestepped to block her way, undeterred. “Your mother’s been writing me.”

“What?” She halted, taken aback. The two had been mortal enemies.

His mouth quirked. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? But she was worried sick after you disappeared. So was I, for that matter.”

She shrugged, deliberately casual despite her pounding heart. “You must not have looked hard enough.”

His eyes narrowed in a ripple of anger beneath that calm of his. Good. She didn’t trust this new, steady Jayce. Especially when everything about him spoke of the military.

Besides, there was a girl worth planets that she needed to get aboard her ship. This was not the time for a reunion. For once in her life she was going to do something worthwhile, and no one, not even Jayce, was going to keep her from it.

But he only drawled, “I’ve found you now, haven’t I?” The gleam in his eye was disturbingly familiar. He was answering a challenge, like during those times back on Centuris when they’d raced.

Shayalin seized upon the first tactic she could think of to quash him: mockery. “So you’ve spent a decade mooning after the first girl you had? I wish you’d moved on. What good are you to me without more experience?”

He bared his teeth, not quelled at all. “Oh, there have been other experiences. I thought I was looking for a friend. But I suppose some people grow uglier with time.”

That hurt. She’d heard far worse from her fellow pirates, but this was Jayce, who had accepted her as she was from the moment he made room for her on his picnic blanket.

“Guess we’re both better off without each other then,” she said, fighting to keep her voice flippant to the end, and made to shoulder past him.

But something must have shown on her face, because he said, “Shay,” sounding so much like his old self that she knew if he said anything more, she was lost.

She whirled on him. “We’ve got nothing more to say,” she bit out. “And don’t you dare follow me.”

She immediately regretted it. Using the word
dare
was the surest way to get Jayce to do anything. But that had been when he was a boy. Now he leaned back against the nearest door, arms crossed, clearly intending to watch her even if he wasn’t going to chase after her.

Fine. She’d go into the room, explain the situation to her passengers and arrange for a distraction somehow. She just couldn’t deal with Jayce right now, not with her nerves yammering from the unexpectedness of encountering him here and now, of all times and places.

Shayalin moved toward the third door, already reaching to open it, but its room number was too high: K5. The numbers must alternate on each side of the corridor. She gritted her teeth. Jayce would have to move.

He watched with open amusement as she turned around and stopped in front of him. “Forgot something?”

“My business is in there.”

His reaction startled her. There was nothing overt, only a sudden tenseness that sent her and then both their hands to the empty holsters on their hips.

She slowly eased her fingers away. “I thought you wanted to know what I was up to,” she said, keeping her tone light. All at once, Jayce struck her as dangerous and capable of stopping her.

“Haven’t you had enough taunts?” he said. “I’m staying in this room. Move on, Shay.”

“You’re the girl’s pilot,” she said, suddenly understanding. She felt queasy. Could she call off the deal?

He moved and there was a flare of pain in her shoulder. Then he had her shoved up against the wall, her arm twisted near to the breaking point and forcing a cry from her. His lips brushed her ear as he said softly but intently, “How do you know this?”

She snarled a curse, then, “I’m ferrying you in.”

His hold eased slightly. “You?”

“The premier was very insistent.” With her arm no longer in agony, she was able to note other sensations: his body against hers, his breath on her neck. She didn’t remember that strength. Jayce had been a wiry youth, but his years in the Corps had given him some bulk, all of it muscle.

How he would look naked now? She squirmed as she imagined it.

He seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on her. “But the premier was supposed to meet with…” To her relief, he turned her to face him and released her. “You’re Lin Bailey?” he demanded.

“I took my father’s name.”

She watched him sort through the possibilities. “I thought your father was a cargo ship captain,” he said.

“So he was, before he went rogue.”

“I never knew his name,” he said. “I never dreamed you were Kennick Bailey’s daughter, the one who’s been terrorizing the shipping lanes.”

She’d been proud of her reputation, but something in Jayce’s tone made her defensive. “While you ended up in the Corps, just like you planned.” She added a twist of scorn for his predictability. But her words came out more bitter than she’d intended.

“You’re mad at
me
?”

“Nothing to be mad about. You wound up as a glorified chauffeur.”

The old Jayce would have laughed ruefully. This one narrowed his eyes and said, “Far more than that. But you wouldn’t understand responsibility.”

She gave him a scornful look. “I’m a ship’s captain, Jayce.”

“And we’re traveling on your ship.” He shook his head. “The premier must be out of his mind.”

“I’m good at what I do,” she said.

“So I’ve heard.” That disapproving note was back.

“Good enough to get the premier’s attention,” she pointed out.

“Do you understand what we’re doing?” he asked. “Why it matters? What’s at stake?”

She did, but it stung that he even asked. So she said blithely, “I’m doing it for the money, of course.”

He snorted. “Of course.” He reached for the door’s panel then stopped. “How is this going to work?” he asked her quietly.

“Getting in won’t be a problem,” she said. “Cuoramin takes anyone who can pay. It’s getting out that’ll be fun.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

There was no dancing around it, but she just couldn’t stomach the thought of explaining to him how she’d spent the last ten years. She looked at him directly. “You said what we’re doing is important to you.”

“It’s important to the human race, Shay.”

“Going over our past will get in the way of getting this done.”

His expression hardened. “You’re saying I have to choose between this mission and trying to resume our friendship?”

“One is much more likely to succeed,” she said. “Let’s focus on that one instead of standing here arguing.”

“You’ve really changed,” he said, and she hid how serrated those words felt against her heart.

If she’d truly changed, she’d be a hard-bitten pirate without panicky fluttering in her stomach whenever she contemplated the way she’d left him ten years ago. She couldn’t afford to be off-balance, not for this task.

“There isn’t anything to talk about anyway,” she said, and the lie settled like lead in her stomach. There were plenty of things she should say.
I’m sorry,
or
I missed you,
or
I’m glad you did all right in the Corps
. But what good could that lead to? She remembered the expression on his face when he’d realized she was a pirate, and her anger kicked up again. She couldn’t regret the path she’d taken. “We should get underway soon. We have things to do that are important for the human race, remember?”

He exhaled heavily. “All right, I’ll drop it for now. Come inside.” He keyed the door open.

She walked in and felt trapped when he closed the door behind them.

The room was empty, save for a narrow bed and a console on the wall, but Jayce glanced at the closed door on the opposite side and said, “She must be using the lav.” He leaned against the wall and just gazed at her for a moment. His eyes might have been watchful or wistful, or both.

She stared at a spot above his shoulder. This space was too small for all the history between them.

There was a noise from the lavatory and a woman came into the room, stopping abruptly when she saw Shayalin. She was middle-aged but slim and clearly fit, and she wore her blond hair short and with a confident air. The woman glanced at Jayce and waited for his nod before introducing herself. “I’m Doctor Keaton Rossi,” she said, with a faint accent Shayalin couldn’t place.

Shayalin had been expecting the attendant to be a maid of some sort. The Speaker’s daughter must be at Cuoramin for a genuine medical concern if a doctor was necessary on this trip. “Lin Bailey. Running the Cuoramin-Albarz express.”

The doctor nodded. “I’m ready to go.”

“Good. Are you rated to pilot, by any chance?” It’d be easier to divide shifts into three.

Keaton blinked. “Only for shuttles,” she said.

Jayce snorted. “Are
you
rated?”

It was true Shayalin had never sat for a formal exam to get a pilot’s license, but she had a decade of experience and the best teacher from her father’s crew, a man who had outmaneuvered a generation of Corps pilots. She gave him a haughty look and ignored the question. “All right. I’m docked in one of the lower bays, epsilon-four.”

“What kind of ship do you have?” he asked.

“An
Aequitus
-class. Is your Swallow docked here?”

He nodded.

“The sooner loaded, the sooner we’re off,” she said.

“And the sooner this is over with?” he said dryly.

“Exactly,” she said, although they were looking at a period of at least a week together and a few hours wouldn’t make much difference. “Do you think you can back it into my cargo hold?”

“Now that,” he said, “is an abuse of a Swallow’s agility. But yes.” He went off to fetch it.

Keaton came with her to her ship. Along the way she tried delicately probing the doctor for more information. Delicacy was not her strongpoint.

“So are you Albarzi?”

“Of course. The premier wouldn’t trust just anyone on this mission.” Keaton glanced at her and seemed to rethink her statement but was too polite to say so. “In any case, I suspect only Albarzi would be willing to be trapped on the other side of the barricade.”

“You were offworld when the quarantine was set?”

“Obviously. I was attending a medical conference on Marutai. Do you want my publication history while we’re at it?”

Shayalin took the hint. “Sorry to be so nosy.” Thankfully they’d reached the dock. “Here’s the
Adannaya
.” They entered the ship, and she felt herself relax as soon as she stepped off the ramp. She was home.

She made arrangements for her cargo to be unloaded and delivered to the premier’s agents before giving Keaton a brief tour about the ship. She always started with the same place. “Here’s the galley. We have more than enough food—I was expecting to have my full crew aboard.”

Keaton opened one of the cupboards before Shayalin could stop her, and a waterfall of noodle packs cascaded onto the counter. Then the floor. They watched in silence—broken only by the rustle of flying noodle packages—until it slowed to a trickle and finally stopped.

“Ah,” Keaton said. “Well, I’m not hungry at the moment anyhow.”

They looked at each other and couldn’t help laughing. Keaton lost enough of her stiffness to help Shayalin gather packages from the floor. Between the two of them, they managed to stuff most of the noodles back in and slammed the cupboard closed on them.

“You do have other food, I hope,” Keaton said.

“Yes,” Shayalin assured her. “That’s Dikelidi’s emergency stash. She doesn’t eat much else.”

“As long as I’m not her doctor,” Keaton said, shrugging.

“Speaking of which,” Shayalin said, leading her to the small medical bay. There was only a single berth for a patient, but it was outfitted with late-generation scanning and holographic layering technology. The doctor only gave it a cursory inspection.

“It looks adequate to me, and I brought my own kit as well. Hopefully we won’t need either.”

“Do you know anything about the Speaker’s daughter’s condition?” Shayalin asked.

Keaton shook her head. “Not yet. Pilot Dietrich’s briefing was…well, brief. But it sounded more like I’m a safeguard.”

Shayalin didn’t press further. If her ship needed any specialized medical equipment, the premier would have ensured she acquired it and Keaton wouldn’t be so blasé about the infirmary’s sparseness. Pirates tended toward trauma injuries rather than exotic diseases, so they were at least covered if the girl turned out to need a wound sutured or a bone reset.

She showed Keaton the rest of the ship so the doctor could find her way to the bridge, the shuttle bay, the engine room—the last so she would know to avoid it. Tansor, her engineer, would never forgive her otherwise.