The Crystal Variation (112 page)

“LEVEL TWO ARREST”
involved sedation—the construction of the drug, duration of affect, known adverse reactions, and chemical antidotes were all listed at the bottom of the two-page receipt. Khat scowled. The drug lasted plus-or-minus four hours. Iza had been arrested three-point-five hours ago. There wasn’t enough credit left on her card to rent a car to take them cross port, and the prospect of woman-handling a half-unconscious Iza onto the tram was . . .daunting, not to dance too lightly on it.

She’d barely started to worry when the door to the waiting room opened, admitting a port cop in full uniform, a thin woman in bloodstained overalls and spectacularly bruised face walking, docile, at her side.

“Khatelane Gobelyn?” The cop asked.

“That’s me.” Khat stepped forward, staring into Iza’s face. Iza stared back, blue eyes tranquil and empty.

“She’s good for about another forty minutes,” the cop said. “If I was you, I’d have her locked down in thirty. No sense running too close to the edge.”

“Right,” Khat said, and then gave the cop a nod, trying for cordial. “Thank you.”

“Huh.” The cop shook her head. “You keep her outta trouble, space-based. You copy that? She put Chad Perkin in the hospital when he tried to get the restraints on her—broken kneecap, broken nose, cracked ribs. You hurt a cop on this port once, and you’re a good citizen ever after, because there ain’t no maybes the second time.”

Khat swallowed. “I don’t—”

“Understand?” The cop hit her in the chest with an ungentle forefinger. “If your buddy here gets into another fistfight and the cops are called on it, she ain’t likely to survive the experience. That plain enough for you, space-based?”

“Yes,” Khat breathed, staring into the broad, hard face. “That’s plain.”

“Good. Now get her outta here and tied down before the stuff wears out.”

“Yes,” Khat said again. She reached out and took Iza’s hand, pulling her quick time down the hall.

THE TRAM WAS WITHIN
two blocks of the lodgings and the time elapsed from the cop shop was rising onto forty-two minutes, when Khat felt Iza shift on the seat beside her. The shifting intensified, accompanied by soft growls and swear words. Khat bit her lip, in a sweat for the tram to
hurry
—

“‘scuse me.” A hand landed, lightly, on Khat’s shoulder. She looked up into the face of an older grounder woman.

“‘scuse me,” the woman said again, her eyes mostly on Iza. “Your friend just fresh from the cop shop?”

“Yes.”

“You take my advice—get her off this tram an’
down
. That drug they use has a kick on the exit side. M’brother threw seven fits when it wore offa him—took all us girls to hold him down, and my uncle, too.”

“Damn dirtsider,” Iza muttered beside her. “Trying to cheat me. Short my ship, will he . . .”

Khat grabbed her arm, leaned over and yanked the cord. The tram slowed and she leapt to her feet, dragging Iza with her.

“Thank you,” she said to the grounder woman, and then thought to ask it— “What happened to your brother?”

The woman shrugged, eyes sliding away. “He was born to trouble, that one. Cop broke his neck not a year later—resisting arrest, they said.”

The tram stopped, the side door slid open. “Mud sucker!” Iza yelled, and Khat jumped for the pavement. Perforce, Iza followed; she staggered, swearing, and Khat spun, twisting her free hand in Iza’s collar, using momentum and sheer, naked astonishment to pitch the older woman off the main walk and into a gap between two buildings.

“Cheat! Filth!” shouted Iza. Khat hooked a foot around her ankle, putting her face down into the mud, set a knee into the small of her back, and pulled both arms back into a lock.

Iza bucked and twisted and swore and shouted—to not much effect, though there were a few bad seconds when Khat thought she was going to lose the arm-lock.

After half an hour or an eternity, the thrashing stopped, then the swearing did, and all Iza’s muscles went limp. Cautiously, Khat let the lock down, and eased her knee off. Iza lay, face down, in the mud. Khat turned her over, checked her breathing and her pulse, then, stifling a few curses herself, she got Iza into a back carry and staggered off toward the lodgings.

The lodgings were in sight when Seeli showed up on Khat’s left. Wordlessly, she helped ease Iza down, and then the two of them got her distributed between them and walked her the rest of the way. Seeli swiped her key through the scan and they maneuvered Iza into the lift, then through the common room and into her own quarters, where they dropped her, muddy and bloody as she was, atop her cot.

“How bad at the yard?” Khat asked Seeli as they moved toward the galley.

“Bad enough,” Seeli said after more hesitation than Khat liked to hear. She sighed, and opened the coldbox. “Brew?”

“Nothing less. And some cheese, if there’s any.” She closed her eyes, feeling the electric quiver of adrenaline-edged exhaustion in her knees and arms.

“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.

Day 81

DAY 81

Standard Year 1118

Kinaveral

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.”