The Sail Weaver (15 page)

“He’s okay?” Tristan realized that he hadn’t seen the dragon since he and Taminick killed the Vermin ship—but his concentration had been elsewhere.

“Yes, sir, he is patrolling while Mr. Aubrey gets us back on our proper course.”

“And Thom?”

“He’s still in sickbay, so you can visit him while they patch you up, sir.”

Tristan nodded and let himself be pulled out of the lift and along the corridor towards sickbay. There was more activity than there had been the first time he’d been in sickbay. As soon as they walked in, he realized the beds were all filled with injured men and women. The medical staff moved between the beds efficiently, somewhere someone was screaming.

“The Weaver is injured,” Riggan said to the ward at large.

A moment later Rose Webber appeared. “How badly?” she asked, taking Tristan’s arm and gently guiding him to a bed at the back of the ward. “When did this happen?”

“I’m not sure, I was focused on the sails.”

“This won’t take long to fix, I just need to make sure your skull is intact.” She stepped away, returning a moment later with a scanner in her hand. She carefully scanned him, then smiled. “It’s only a flesh wound, sir, I’ll fix that and you can go to your cabin
to get some rest.
Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Dr. Webber,” Tristan said with a smile. “How is Mr. Barrett?”

“You can check on him on the way out. I’m keeping him here for another couple of hours, and he is to be on light duty for the next three days,” she said as she used a
dermo
-repair kit to fix the tear in
Tristan’s scalp. There was a slight tingling sensation as the skin was mended. “There you go. Now, go rest.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. There was something very solid and comforting in the matter-of-fact way the doctor ran the sickbay. He also knew that for Thom to still be there, he must have been seriously injured, but her calm demeanor helped ease his worry. Getting up, he walked to the curtained bed she pointed at, and opened the curtain. “How do you feel?”

“Like half the deck hit me,” Barrett said with a soft laugh. “Which I guess it did.” He looked terrible, deep bruising that not even the medical staff could completely treat marred his face and upper body. “I got to keep my leg, which is a plus.”

“Always a plus,” Tristan replied, trying not to let worry creep into his voice.

“We were off course?” Barrett asked.

“Yes, Aubrey has been working on it for the last…” Tristan had no idea how long it had been since the battle.

“Two hours, sir,” Riggan supplied. “I’m not saying anything, but I heard that he said the
nav
computer had been fed completely new data. He has no idea how it happened—or why the proximity alarms weren’t working. Mr. Shearer and Mr. Fuhrman are equally disturbed by the non-functioning guns, sirs.”

Thom met Tristan’s eyes. “So now we know.”

“Yeah, but who?”

“And more to the point, Tristan, why?” Thom asked softly.

Tristan shook his head. They couldn’t talk in sickbay, there were too many ears. “Come to my cabin for a game of backgammon as soon as you can.”

“I’ll be there at the usual time,” Thom said. They both knew it was the only place they could talk freely.

“There’s a red tail down the corridor,” Riggan said under his breath. “Watching sickbay.”

“You’re in good hands, then, Thom. We’ll talk later. Rest.”

“You too.”

Tristan smiled and stood. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Thom nodded and Tristan left. As he stepped out of the main sickbay he noticed the tip of a red dragon’s tail lurking around the bend in the corridor. “Good night, Taminick,” he said softly, knowing the dragon
would hear him. A soft huff let him know she was on guard.

XV

The rest Tristan had been counting on didn’t last as long as he expected. The Officer of the Watch called him back on deck to Weave one of the topgallants that had been destroyed in the battle about three hours after he had finally managed to get to his cabin. Once the big sails were done, the crew had set to fixing the damage to the ship, relying on the slower engines rather than the sails. However, once they cycled on the main engines, they discovered that two of them were not running at even half power and so they had to get the sails functioning sooner than expected. Running with the sails unfurled in the Winds meant they would reach Terra
Octodecimus
and the Naval dockyards there
—where they were now headed to do repairs—
much sooner. Tristan could also use the Guild offices and the secure line back to the Weavers’ Compound.

The door to his cabin opened before he reached for the knob,
Riggan
tsking
worriedly. “You’ve been on deck for hours, sir, without a break.” He gently eased Tristan’s uniform coat from his shoulders. “I was about to send Master Fenfyr up to get you.”

“He was, too,” Thom said from where he was sitting in the chair by the stern gallery doors. They were closed so the Air Weavers could focus on helping the crew work on the battle-damaged hull. “I just got here, Riggan was going to make coffee and then send Fenfyr
for you.”

“He did settle on deck more than once,” Tristan said, dropping into a chair with a sigh. “I think he was reminding some of the crew there was a dragon around. He huffed over to a group that was working out on the forecastle, I’m not sure why—but whatever it was they scattered when he showed up.”

“I’m hoping we can replace some of the crew at the station,” Thom said as Riggan brought in the coffee service.

“Not that I’m saying anything, sir, mind you, but I heard that the captain was set on keeping the crew as it is,” Riggan said, pouring them coffee. “Word has it he is keeping everyone that’s still alive. I’m not saying as I heard Colonel Hall saying he wanted to deep space a few before we got there to thin the ranks, mind you, but I think he and General Muher have something up their sleeves.”

“Thank you, Riggan.”

“Yes, sir, if you need me sir, just buzz. I’ll go get some food while you rest.” He fixed Tristan with a look that reminded him so much of his first teacher at the Guild he almost burst out laughing. “I will be right back,” Riggan added, then headed out the door.

“He’s a gossip,” Tristan remarked, looking over at Thom. Some of the dark bruising was beginning to fade.

“A useful one, too.” The officer grinned. “He always has been, even when he was the captain’s servant he would drop a word in my ear now and then.”

“Did he come with Stemmer or the ship?”

“The ship,” Thom said, making a face. “He was to be the captain’s servant.”

“No wonder he reports to you, because he would know.”

“Yes, he knows.” Thom laughed. “Not that he’s saying anything, mind you.” Tristan laughed too, the man’s imitation of Riggan was almost perfect. “Stemmer got him, and, of course, as First Officer, I rate a Gunroom servant, not a personal servant.”

“Stemmer is one of Davis’s gang?”

“Oh, yes, and then some. I was shocked when they chose him as captain, frankly. Even though he was acquitted, there is still the question of his involvement in the Stars Plot and the anti-Weaver movement. He’s never been caught at anything, but he is part of the group at Naval headquarters that want to see the Guild gone once and
for all.”

“You can’t have ships without sails, and you can’t have sails without the Guild,” Tristan said.

“I know, and that’s got me worried. I think they are up to something, I’m not sure what.” Thom said. “On my first command the Weaver was anti-social, but made sure I understood that without him there would be no ship to command.” He laughed. “It was an emergency command too—I was promoted because the ship’s captain literally dropped dead at the helm, I was First and command defaulted me. It was an interesting trip.”

“What kind of ship?”

“She was a frigate, we were part of an escort for a while, then went hunting a group of pirates that were plaguing one of the Rim stations.”

“Have you been on the Rim for a long time?” Tristan asked. Thom didn’t show a lot of the usual tell-tale marks of service on the Rim.

“Off and on. I’m not overly popular with Headquarters, so they give me ships, but send me deep-space sailing. We were the ones who first got a whiff of the possible incursion that led to the creation of the
Victory.
I’d helped design a lot of ships and Admiral O’Brian called me in for the project, trusting my knowledge of battle. Unlike a lot of captains, I’ve seen a fair amount of battle. He figured I could help make the
Victory
less vulnerable to attack from the Vermin. They tend to use the same style of attack over and over, it gives us an advantage. I was promised command.” He sighed. “Of course, that didn’t work so well.”

“Nothing about this ship is as it was planned, Thom.”

“Thinking about that, whatever happened to Alden?”

“The last we heard he’d left Terra Secundus bound towards the Rim,” Tristan answered. He’d received a message from Rhoads about the former Warrior saying “heading out, keep your eyes open”, but he had no idea what that meant.

“I spoke with Aubrey, he said we should make station-fall in less than five hours. He and Navigator Avila are still trying to figure out what went wrong with the computer.” He stopped as Riggan entered pushing a cart of food.

“Master Fenfyr is resting in the gardens, sir, under the
grapefruit trees,” Riggan said, setting plates on the small table. “I went in to get some for him and there he was, sound asleep. The captain is a little distressed.” The man chuckled. “But there was no waking him, sir, so I left him to sleep. He’s been out patrolling since the battle.”

“I hope he’s not disturbing anyone,” Tristan said.

“None of the crew would even know he’s there, he’s curled up and quiet. The only ones who know are the captain and his new servant, on account of where Master Fenfyr chose to bed down. If I might be so bold, sirs, you both should eat and do as he is, I heard them say we’d be at Terra
Octodecimus
at six bells in the afternoon watch.”

“Thank you, Riggan,” Barrett said with a smile. “We’ll do that.”

They made station fall shortly after seven bells, having had to wait as a slow cruiser was cleared out of the only dock big enough for the
Winged Victory.
Tristan was sure he heard a collective sigh of relief from the crew as the masts were lowered into the ship far enough for the massive dome to close around them. Even he had to admit to a feeling of relief, more because it meant he could use the secure line back to the Guild than anything else. He was putting on his uniform when Muher knocked on the door.

“I understand you are heading towards the Guild annex?” the general said, stepping into Tristan’s cabin.

“Yes, I take your appearance to mean I am being escorted?” Tristan asked with a laugh.

“Not so much escorted as accompanied. It’s rougher out here, and I thought it might be wise to have a little firepower at your back, just in case.” Muher smiled. “These outer stations are a bit different than Terra Secundus and the inner system network. It’s just better to have a little extra help at times.”

“That’s fine, I don’t want to run into slavers again.” Tristan grabbed his bag. “Ready?”

As they stepped off the gangplank and onto the station’s plating, Tristan was sure he saw something red disappear further down the docks. He didn’t mention it to Muher, if the general saw Taminick, he saw her, if not, it was better to keep her presence a secret.

Once they left the docks, Tristan could see what Muher had meant. The station was very different from the order of Terra Secundus. Instead of the artificial trees and climate, it was clearly just what it was—a space station, with heavy plating and pipes exposed. There were colored lines on the floor, at every junction the lines were labeled to lead to the shopping area, the residential area or the docks. There were some that had no lettering, Tristan wondered where they went. One of them, a dark gray, headed off in the direction of the docks, but branched off. ”What’s that for?”

“The secondary docks.”

“Secondary docks?” Tristan asked in confusion.

“The ones we don’t go to and avoid at all costs. Terra
Octodecimus
services pirates now and then, and the secondary docks are where their ships would be if they’re here.”

“If you know the pirates are here, why not just arrest them?”

“And put them where?” Muher asked. “Half this station sympathizes with them. The pirates bring in goods they don’t often see, big cruisers from the inner system don’t stop here as often as they should—then tend to push on to Terra
Vingensumus
.”

“That’s criminal!”

“Yes, sir, but there’s more profit the further out you get. Once you reach these parts
, a lot of the people in the
inner system and the pirates are regarded in the same light for the most part on the smaller stations—well, except for those that fly Vermin ships. The Vermin have raided in this close before and it was a massacre.”

“So the ships that came after us probably weren’t docked here?”

“I doubt it,” Muher said, “but I am going to check it out as soon as you are safe at the Guild offices.”

Tristan was quiet, digesting the information. The cruisers had Navy escorts, so they were purposefully flying past these stations, leaving them to the pirates. It wasn’t a good situation. As they rounded the corner, he noticed a huge banner declaring “Loyal to Guild and Dragon” on one rusted wall of a large open area. Across from them he could see the Guild insignia on a door. Looking down, he noted that the blue line led towards the Guild offices. He opened the door and a journeyman Weaver looked up at him with a bored sigh. His eyes widened, then he stood, snapping to attention.

“Master Tristan! Sir! I didn’t know you were coming!” he
nearly shouted.

Tristan hid a smile, after being onboard he’d nearly forgotten that he was recognizable to every member of the Guild. “It’s okay, I just came in with the
Winged Victory
and I need to use the secure line to speak with the Guild Master.” Since the incident with the ship
’
s
nav
systems, Tristan didn’t trust the line in his cabin to be secure.

“Of course! This way!” The poor man was nearly falling over his feet as he led Tristan down the corridor towards an office. “Will this do?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’ll be around, don’t leave without me,” Muher said, snapped off a salute and left.

Tristan waited until they left then closed the
door, locking it automatically and
then walked to the desk. He sat down and powered up the communications system, typing in his secure code and dialing straight through to the Guild Master’s office.

“Tristan! What the hell are you doing on Terra
Octodecimus
?” Rhoads demanded as he answered the call.

“We got caught out by pirates, the ship was off course and they did enough damage to require a st
opover
.” Tristan sighed.

“Okay, give me the full report.”

Tristan started talking, waiting between the moments when the Guild Master would break his narration with a string of expletives. By the time he had brought Rhoads completely up-to-date, it was chiming two bells in the first dog watch. “And so, last I heard, Muher and Hall were going to try and remove some of the suspect pressed men at the station, but they were expecting a fight from the captain, so I don’t know what’s going to happen with that.”

“We knew there was something wrong with the ship, we just didn’t know how wrong.” Rhoads sighed. “The Nav
y has made a move in the Worlds
Council to downgrade the Guild again, it was overturned as soon as it was suggested, but there were murmurs afterwards that the Navy would soon have a way to circumvent us entirely.”

“There’s no way they can, Brian, unless the rumors are true.”

“And if they are, then we are in trouble,” the Guild Master said, his voice worried. “We have to find out about the sealed deck. Muher reported to Darius about it, and the Guild Dragons are insisting
someone get in there. They fear the worst.”

“I’m beginning to. Riggan, my servant, said someone saw someone going in there, then re-soldering it.”

“Sounds like gossip.”

“True, but his gossip is very reliable.” Tristan laughed. “In fact, he should work in intelligence. He’s very good at it.”

“We’ll see what we can do. You need to be careful, Tristan, there is an ugly mood brewing.”