by Jaleta Clegg
It was chaos. Parts were piled everywhere. The engine looked broken and forlorn with half the parts missing. There were fresh scrapes and gouges across the walls.
"It's just fine, Beryn," Darus shouted. "It doesn't all have to be pulled."
"Yes, it does," Beryn shouted back. They were standing nose to nose next to the hyperdrive field fluctuator.
I squeezed past them and squirmed in behind the unit. They both glared at me.
"Hand me the field probe," I said.
Darus dropped the probe down to me. I connected the leads and flipped it on. I twisted the dials. All the readings were where they were supposed to be. I unclipped it.
"Don't pull anything out of the hyperdrive unless you have to. This is fine." I crawled further back into the engine and hooked the probe up to a different bit.
"Told you so," Darus muttered.
Beryn ignored him.
"Go take the coolant system apart and find the leaks," I said. "Beryn, you start finding the parts we need."
"Yes, ma'am," Beryn snapped. He stomped out of the engine room.
"I don't know why he's so upset. We're still alive and in one piece," Darus said.
I set the probe for the part I was checking. The readings were all in the green. I moved on to another part.
By lunchtime, we had the engine tested. The list of parts we needed to replace was distressingly long. But most of the damage was to the parts of the hyperdrive I knew how to fix. The heart of the unit was still fine. The core also checked out fine, once we let it cool.
Beryn had worked minor miracles himself. He had located most of what we needed. There were still a few parts that he hadn't been able to get. We'd have to go in person to track them down.
Darus and Beryn left after lunch to buy parts. I got to spend the afternoon shifting cargo. At least that hadn't been a problem. The buyer was happy to get his shipment. I suspected that trade inside the Empire wasn't nearly as reliable as it used to be. Judging from the lack of ships in port, that was an easy assumption to make.
Beryn came back to the ship about dinner time. By then, we were all grumpy. We'd been working for over twenty hours. Tireo was one of those worlds where the port kept planetary hours, though. Everything was closed for the night. There were no services available until morning. We needed the break.
"How long on the engine?" Jasyn asked me over dinner.
"A week, if we can find someone to balance it and recalibrate the drive bearings," I answered. "How bad were the fines?"
She smiled. She was stunningly beautiful when she did. "I talked him into cutting them more than half."
"But if they figure out that we aren't really the Merriwether, we are in deep trouble," Clark added. Nobody needed to say that the Phoenix Rising was on the Patrol's most wanted list. Again. At least we weren't being actively hunted.
We all went to bed after dinner. Even Louie was too tired to fuss much.
The next day was more of the same. Darus, Beryn, and I spent most of the day crawling through the engine, picking apart broken pieces. Ginni ran checks from the cockpit, working on the wiring we'd fried during the landing. Twyla and Clark went to find cargo. Jasyn cooked up a storm and played with her son.
Three days later, we were finally ready to start putting things back together again.
I was wedged under the drive shaft when Beryn decided he'd had enough. He leaned over the engine, staring at me through the tangled mess of wiring and tubing. He handed me the driver I'd asked for.
"You know," he said, "you're more of a slave driver than Caid ever was. Three straight days, and nights, is too much. Besides, we've put in everything we can. We need the fitting collars before we can put anything else back."
I tightened the bolt. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. We have to scavenge parts before we can fix anything else." He shifted back, out of my line of sight. "Clark hasn't had any luck finding cargo, either."
"What are you really saying, Beryn?"
"That I've been in the ship too long."
"Are you waiting for my permission for shore leave?" I wormed back out from under the engine and wiped grease off the driver.
"You may find this fun and relaxing, Dace, but I don't."
"You don't have to ask permission from me, Beryn. Just take a com unit and come back before morning. Otherwise, Jasyn will worry."
"And you won't?"
"See what rumors you can hear. Anything that might help."
"Of course." He flipped a salute at me and headed up the stairs out of the engine room. He was whistling.
"Isn't he supposed to be putting that filtration unit back together?" Darus asked as he passed Beryn.
"I'll do it later. We need new filters first."
"You've got about three hours before the stores all close for the night."
"Then let's go," I said.
"You want me to come with you?"
"You don't have to sound so surprised." I put the driver back in the drawer where it belonged.
"You offered to leave the ship and to spend time with me without anyone else around."
"Are you afraid I'll beat you up?"
"You couldn't if you wanted to," he said, with a lopsided grin.
"I wouldn't bet on that." I grinned back.
"Are you going to wash the grease off before we go?"
"Why? Will I embarrass you if I don't?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. "But you might be embarrassed by it. You've got it smeared all down the side of your face. You look like you've been crawling through an engine."
"That's because I have, Darus."
"I know," he said. His grin grew wider.
"Weren't you supposed to be helping me down here this afternoon?"
"Jasyn gave me time off for good behavior. I spent the afternoon reading to Louie."
"Sleeping, you mean. I heard you snoring."
"I don't snore."
"Neither do I."
"Dace, go wash your face. We're running out of daylight."
I put the rest of the tools away and went to change.
Chapter 12
The bar was one of the quieter ones. Beryn told himself he was just going in to relax for a while. It was a change, an escape from people he knew too well. It was dark inside, the music mellow. The patrons were few. He took a spot near the bar, where he could listen in to conversations around him.
He didn't hear much that was interesting. No one seemed to be too concerned about treason or the Federation or anything other than the spring weather and the elections coming up soon. No one mentioned anything about trade, either. He was just about to leave, to find somewhere a little more exciting, when a woman squeezed into the seat next to him.
She had copper colored hair that hung in curling ringlets down her back. Her waist was tiny, cinched in tightly with a golden belt. The dress she wore was soft green and hinted at curves underneath. She smiled, a brilliant smile that dazzled him.
"Buy me a drink?" Her voice was soft, inviting intimacy. She glanced at him through her eyelashes. They were very long and thick. Her eyes were the same copper as her hair.
"Sure," he said and signaled the bartender. He was only talking, looking for information, he told himself. He hadn't done anything to feel guilty about. He could almost feel Paltronis frowning at him. They had an understanding, but not an exclusive relationship, not yet. He smiled at the woman sitting next to him.
"Thank you," she said as the bartender placed a drink in front of her. She picked it up, licking the straw. Her lips were very red and full. She puckered them, an invitation to do more than watch.
Beryn shifted back on his stool, giving her the subtle cue that he wasn't interested.
She let the straw go and put the glass back on the counter. "My name's Ananda." She held out a slender hand. Her nails were painted a shimmering gold.
"Beryn," he answered. He didn't take her hand. He just wanted to talk. He suspected she charged for her services anyway.
"You just get in?" She glanced down at his shipsuit. "What ship are you with?"
"A freighter," he said evasively. "You work this section of town often?"
Her face went cold and rigid, but only for a moment. She slid a pleasant mask over her face, but he could see the anger in her eyes.
"Not often, and I'm not what you think," she said.
"No, you're too classy to work the docks," Beryn said.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"If you want it to be."
She turned her back to the bar and leaned on it. It was a pose, designed to make her curves even more dramatic. He glanced down then deliberately looked back to her face.
"You don't like women?"
"I'm more interested in conversation," he answered truthfully.
"But not about your ship."
"Let's just say, I've had enough of it. I'm pretending to run away."
She laughed, a genuine laugh this time. The anger slid away as if it had never been. "Then I've got time and I'm willing if you are."
"Willing for what?"
"Anything you want," she said provocatively.
"Like I said, I'm not interested in more than talk."
"Then we'll just talk. What do you want to talk about?"
"Why are there so few ships in port? There should be at least a hundred. That's been puzzling me since we landed."
"I wouldn't know." She looked past him, as if bored by the topic.
That caught Beryn's interest. She had singled him out for some reason. He was going to find out why.
She looked back at him. "Do you know anything about that ship that almost crashed a few days ago? Everyone's been talking about it. They say the crew was lucky to survive." She reached out and ran one finger down the front of his shipsuit. "You're from that ship, aren't you?"
"And what difference will it make if I am?"
"Tell me what happened. Tell me what it's like to almost die." She slid closer to him. She licked her lips as she leaned into him. "Was it exciting?"
"Only for a few minutes, and then it was over." He couldn't deny he found her breathless attention flattering.
"So that is your ship," she said and smiled. "You want to play games? I ask you questions and you answer and then you can have your turn."
He shook his head. "I've got to get back." There was something about her that tweaked his warning sense. Something wasn't quite right about her interest.
"What's the name of your ship?" she asked again.
"Enjoy your drink." He dropped money on the counter and left.
He glanced back from the door. She was still sitting, watching him, sipping her drink.
"Come back sometime," she called across the bar. "I'll make it very worth your while."
"I don't doubt that," he said.
He walked away from the bar, not quite sure why he felt unsettled. He paused, looking across the dark landing field. The Phoenix was out by itself, surrounded by empty berths. The few ships in port were clustered over on the far side of the field, near the port offices.
The hatch of the Phoenix was open, spilling golden light onto the field. Someone stood on the ramp, looking out into the night. Probably Dace or Jasyn. He jingled the junk in his pockets. He didn't want to go back, not yet.
He walked to the side, past several businesses closed for the night. He found another bar. The sound of rowdy laughter and loud music beckoned him inside.
There was a game of Comets going on in one corner. They invited him to play. He forgot the strange woman after winning three hands in a row. He stayed out most of the night. He brought back more money than he left with.
Chapter 13
Paltronis stood, still as a statue, in the stifling heat. She wore full battle dress, just like the other forty three people stationed on Fedrithus. The commander strutted along their line, inspecting them. Paltronis doubted he had any idea what constituted proper battle dress.
Two weeks on Fedrithus and she was ready to scream. The commander of the base took his duties very seriously. It wasn't his fault he was completely incompetent. Most of the rest of the Patrol staff were just as incompetent. They were those exiled here by stupidity, belligerence, or both. They were the boot scrapings of the Patrol.
Commander Fenniwik knew there was a war. He coped with the news by decreeing battle preparation. They were required to fall out, in full battle dress, at least twice a day, usually with little warning. Fenniwik would then inspect them and hand out arbitrary punishments and rewards.
"Your boots need polished," Fenniwik shouted to a man in the line. "Two demerits. Kitchen duty for the next three days."
He moved leisurely to the next person in line. The unfortunate woman was short and slight. She could barely walk under the weight of her armor and weapons. Fenniwik looked her up and down. She was a clerk who usually did nothing more strenuous than data entry. Paltronis glanced at her. Her face was red. Sweat dripped off her chin.
Fenniwik nodded approval and moved on. Paltronis stared into the distance, bored beyond belief.
"Sergeant Paltronis," Fenniwik finally said in front of her.
She snapped her rifle against her chest. It was stupid, a dangerous maneuver if her rifle had been charged, but Fenniwik believed it was proper and correct. She'd had a few quiet words with the others about not keeping their rifles charged. She would have hated to see someone blow their head off during inspection.
"Sir," she answered when she realized he was waiting for her to respond.
"The troops are looking well," he said. "But there is a war on. Looking good isn't enough. You will lead them in drills. I want all of them in tip top shape."
"Starting when, sir?"
"Starting now, of course, sergeant. Do that running, jumping thing they do at the Academy. I want them in battle shape, sergeant. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir." Arguing with Fenniwik was as useful as talking to trees. She snapped another salute at him. "Troops, fall out into march position," she shouted.
There was mass confusion. None of them had ever drilled at marching. They had no idea where to go or what to do. The poor clerk fainted from the heat. At least they had a medic nearby, Paltronis thought sourly.
Fenniwik shook his head. "This won't do, sergeant."
"I'll work on it, sir," she answered. She resisted the urge to hit him on his head. It might knock some sense into him.
"See that you do, or I might have to put you on report," Fenniwik said.
She saluted him, ignoring the rushing and shouting going on behind her. Fenniwik gave her a vapid look that was supposed to be commanding and wasn't. He turned on his heel and marched away, back into the cool interior of the headquarters building.
She turned back to the field. There were three of them down now, passed out from heat. The others were gathering into a very ragged formation.
"Get them inside," she told the medic, waving at the prostrate people on the dusty ground. "Take whoever you want to help you."
"You aren't going to make them drill in this heat, are you?" the medic asked.
"I'm not stupid. We'll assemble in the mess hall, inside where there is plenty of water and it's a bit cooler."
"Disobeying orders again?" He grinned.
"Fenniwik will never notice. Not until he wakes up from his nap." She stepped past the medic. "Listen up!" She waited until most of them were looking at her. "You will assemble in the mess hall in ten minutes. Leave the battle gear in your quarters."
They looked relieved. There was a mass exit towards the barracks. Paltronis watched them go. The medic sent the three sick ones with their friends. He stayed behind, standing near her and studying her.
"You aren't really going to try to make them into soldiers, are you?" he asked.
She shook her head. "They'd never last in a real fight. Except for maybe the brute squad." It was the nickname for the six men sent here because they'd managed to break up every bar on half a dozen worlds. On one sho
re leave.
"Then what are you planning?"
"Teach them how to stand in parade formation. That should satisfy Fenniwik for now."
"You aren't as bad as they say," he told her as they started walking after the others. "You just look intimidating."
"Maybe I'll teach them hand to hand later," she said.
He laughed and shook his head. "As if you know anything about it."
"That's what I got certified in at the Academy."
"Then I'm glad you're on our side."
"Not Fenniwik's?"
"Watch who you talk to about him," the medic warned. "He may appear incompetent, but he has connections. Just a warning to watch your step. There are rumors about your last post and why you ended up here. Having an affair with a member of the High Command isn't a good career move."
"But it was a lot of fun."
He laughed. He stopped with his hand on the door, keeping her outside where they were alone. "The truth is that you still work for Lowell. Watch your step." He reached for the door handle. It was her turn to hold the door shut.
"Who do you work for?" There was quiet menace in her voice.
"I used to send reports to Lowell. You aren't the only one exiled here."
She pulled the door open. "Thanks for the warning."
"You still work for him."
She shook her head. "I work for Fenniwik now."
"And you hate every moment of it. Do me a favor, Paltronis, take me with you when you leave. I don't want to spend the rest of my life here."
"If I leave, I'll probably have people chasing me."
"I'm not afraid of the Patrol."
"Neither am I."
"Take me with you when you go."
"Why?"
"Because I know the real story behind you and Lowell. Because I want to help. Because I've got connections that could prove useful to you."
"I'll think about it."
She mulled over his offer while she tried to teach the staff of the base how to stand in formation. She left the whole marching idea for another day. She was going to start by finding out his name. She'd wasted two weeks here already, feeling sorry for herself and waiting for orders that weren't going to come.