The City and the Ship

by Anne McCaffrey

  Her contact slid over to her terminal and entered a credit chip, transmitting authorization to delete five thousand from it and transfer it to her account.

  She handed him the datahedron.

  "I don't like being cheated," she told him.

  "No, well, life's a lesson, y'know. Separates the smart from the stupid," he said. His grin disappeared behind goggles and face-mask as he fastened his parka.

  Joat stood and followed him down through the corridors.

  "Sayonara, stupidissimo," she muttered as the hatch closed behind him. "Think he bought it?" she asked Rand.

  "He gave every indication of doing so. What will his reaction be when he discovers what we've done?"

  "Violent, I expect," Joat said. "Why do you think I locked the hatch?"

  She picked up a note screen and stylus and sat down facing her largest screen. "Play the recording of that Nomik Ciety hedron, would you, Rand?"

  Rand began playing back the recording and Joat sat quietly, scribbling a note now and then on her belt unit. The hedron described Ciety's lifestyle and career, noting that very little was known of his past; presently he seemed to be living up to the Middle-Level Organized Crime stereotype. There was a long section on his known associates and henchmen which also lacked significant background information.

  As the information rolled by, augmented by numerous holos of Ciety and his people, Joat struggled to concentrate. Now that the shock of rediscovering him was past, she was able, to a degree, to achieve an emotional distance from the man on the screen.

  When it was over she sat for a while, her face expressionless, and stared into space, struggling to keep the memories out.

  Amos first! she told herself fiercely over and over. Amos must come first!

  "They've obviously spent a great deal to erase their early histories," Rand observed.

  Joat blinked and nodded.

  "Yes," she agreed leadenly.

  "You were most inattentive the first time we played this, Joat. That's quite unlike you," it observed.

  She turned her chair to look at it. Its lights were a flickering mix of colors—Rand's "neutral" face.

  "You noticed that?" she murmured.

  "I don't think the others did," Rand hastened to reassure her. "But you became quite pale for a moment, and when Joseph touched you, your reaction was uncharacteristically violent. Just now your heartbeat is elevated. Is there something we should know?"

  "Maybe," she said thoughtfully. "I'll have to think about it."

  * * *

  "You're a good cook, Joe," Joat yawned.

  "It is a manly skill," Joseph answered seriously, sliding the sausages onto her plate.

  "Alvec?"

  "He will return later." Joseph waved the frying pan under the cleaner, then racked the utensil. "Joat . . . he went away with this woman that he met. She was an amazon, Joat, truly. As tall as Amos and as muscular as I am. She had an expression on her face that had me stammering an apology the instant that I saw it."

  "What'd you do?" Joat asked, interested.

  "Nothing. I knew that I had done nothing to offend her, but still, I'm sorry came dribbling out of my mouth before I could stop myself. And then Alvec introduced her as his Rose and she melted. She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand like a shy maiden, and she blushed bright pink! If you saw her, Joat, you would imagine that such a woman would have to think hard for a good five minutes to even remember how to blush." He paused for a moment. "Do you know, she could have been the sister of the Rose he met on New Destinies."

  Smiling fondly, Joat nodded.

  "Yeah, they're a lot alike, every Rose in his 'bouquet'—that's Al's term for the bunch of them—is just like the next one. Y'know, he's stayed friends with all of 'em, and there must be scores of them by now." She shook her head. "You're right, it's remarkable."

  "Has he ever failed in his wooing?" Joseph asked.

  "Not that I'm aware of. See, he's completely sincere, he really adores his Roses." She grinned. "That's very seductive."

  "Ah, yes, I do see." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I do not think that I would be so easily seduced though."

  Joat suppressed a smile, thinking, How the heck would you know? After the dance Rachel led you, would you even recognize a seduction that didn't include a slap in the face?

  "Are you susceptible to romance, my friend?" Joseph prodded.

  She folded her hands on her stomach and stared at the ceiling thoughtfully.

  "Oh, I suppose I enjoy a nice episode of boot-licking flattery as much as the next person. But I'm not inclined to let it turn my head like Al's Roses do. I'm no kind of flower when you come right down to it."

  "I think of my Rachel as an althea," Joseph murmured, his face dreamy. "A flower of very subtle beauty."

  Joat blinked. Joseph as a romantic was always a revelation to her. And to be honest, Rachel's beauty was of a very subtle order indeed, for Joat herself had never seen it.

  "All women resemble some flower," he insisted. "Even you, my friend."

  "Yeah, well, maybe one of those flesh eating ones," Joat conceded, grinning. She shook her head ruefully. "You know, I think you're all incredibly brave."

  Joseph looked at her questioningly.

  "Channa and Amos," she clarified. "And you. I can't see how you do it, no matter how much it hurts, you just keep coming back for more. It amazes me."

  He still looked puzzled.

  "Amos and Channa's love does bring them pain," he agreed. "But it also blesses them with much joy. As to myself, you puzzle me, my friend. I am very happily married. Why do you include me in your number of the brave?"

  "I was thinking of the early days of your relationship with Rachel. Everything is great now, but I haven't forgotten the sight of her hitting you in the face 'till her hand bled."

  He cocked his head at her.

  "I must ask you to be fair, Joat. My Rachel was not at her best at the time."

  Joat spluttered into her coffee.

  "You have a gift for understatement, Joe. I think you're brave because no matter what she did, no matter what she said, no matter how much it hurt you, you were there for her and you never stopped loving her." Her eyes revealed the puzzled amazement that she always felt when she thought about this. "I can't imagine leaving myself open like that. I can't help but think, what's the matter with these people, do they like pain and misery? Oh, and let's not forget the humiliation."

  Joseph smiled at her warmly.

  "It is just that you have never been in love, my friend. When you are in love even pain can seem sweet if it allows you a glimpse of your beloved. I will pray that you may know it soon."

  "Gee, thanks Joe," she said dryly. "I'll pray for your mental health too. Wha . . . !"

  Alvec had suddenly leapt into the galley where they were sitting, arms open wide he began to sing:

  "Her skin is soft and tender as the petals of a rose

  and her eyes are as bright as the dew.

  Come into my arms, O my Rose of the stars

  and I swear I will always love you."

  Joat raised an eyebrow.

  "Had a good time did you?"

  Alvec put his hand over his heart, closed his eyes and sighed.

  "I did," he shook his head, smiling, "I really did."

  As Joat muttered, "Nuts . . . , you're all nuts!" he bounded over to a cupboard and pulled out a coffee, peeled back the heat seal and inhaled as steam rose in a fragrant puff.

  "Mmm mm," he said and took a sip. "So! How'd it go, Captain?"

  She grimaced. "About as we expected. We were royally cheated. He only paid me five thousand credits and told me it was a life lesson. Can you believe it?"

  Alvec scowled and shook his head sadly.

  "The nerve'a some people. What's the universe comin' to, when even smugglers and gunrunners can't be relied on?"

  "I am a little surprised that we have not heard back from them by now," Joseph said. "In my experience, such people are not i
nclined to merely shrug philosophically and go on to the next thing."

  Joat grimaced and shrugged.

  "It was either going to be an immediate reaction," Rand said. "Or not. For all we know he took it off-planet."

  Alvec rolled his eyes.

  "Bite your tongue! If you had one," he said. "If that's the case we might not hear from them for months. And we sure can't afford to wait around here for someone to get around to getting mad at us."

  "No," Joat said looking a little lost, "we can't. I hadn't really thought of no one coming after us at all."

  "Oh, do not worry, Joat, Alvec," Joseph said sympathetically, "I am certain that very soon a heavily armed and angry band of smugglers will be beating upon your hatch crying out for your blood. You mustn't lose faith."

  Joat laughed, but before she could speak, Rand broke in.

  "In fact, there is a party approaching Wyal now, Joat. I have them onscreen on the bridge. Come and have a look at them."

  * * *

  The day had dawned with the aching clarity of deep cold; the sky was a pale blue-green arch above, with both moons full and looking like translucent globes on the horizon. On the main screen was a view of a very expensive landcar just pulling to a stop at the base of the Wyal, crisp snow squeaking under its wheels. Both front doors opened and from each a man with the squat, square build of a heavy-worlder emerged. They advanced with the economic efficiency of battle cruisers and their heads swung like gun turrets, ceaselessly examining their surroundings for any threat.

  One stumped over to the rear door of the glossy landcar and opened it. A woman emerged.

  Alvec gave a long whistle. "Not my type," he said. "But that's something."

  "It is hard to believe she is of the same species as her guards," Joseph said seriously.

  "All of that party are homo sapiens," Rand said.

  Alvec snorted. "You wouldn't understand."

  Her long black hair lay in a thick, glassy braid on her shoulder, its color stark against the pale green of her exquisitely cut thermal suit. She moved towards the Wyal with the grace of flowing water. All three of them wore wraparound eye protection against Schwartztarr's harsh sun. As one, they raised their heads to study Wyal's height.

  "A living cliché," Joat said, feeling an odd mixture of awe and amusement. "You fellas reel in your tongues, now."

  She knew the woman. Her name was Silken—no known last name—she was Ciety's second in command, his lover, according to CenSec. A gangster's "moll" and her "torpedoes" in ancient Earth parlance.

  "She's a nice lookin' girl," Alvec said judiciously.

  Joat grinned over her shoulder at him. "But she's no Rose, am I right?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "She is no althea, either," Joseph said with a grim smile.

  "Permission to board," the woman said, as though repeating a formula rather than making a request. Her voice was soft and pleasant. Her companions waited with a boulder patience that somehow had an edge of spring-steel readiness.

  "This is Captain Simeon-Hap. May I ask your business?"

  Silken took off her glasses and stared into the pickup. "I'm sure you know who I am, as well as why I'm here. I'd prefer to discuss our business in private—you know why, as well."

  Well, Joat thought. Right to the point.

  "And I'm sure that you'll understand Ms. . . ." Joat paused to allow the woman to introduce herself. After a moment of silence she continued: "Uh, that your companions make me nervous."

  The beautiful face smiled. "If we were here to hijack you, Captain, I assure you, you wouldn't be aware of us until we were on your bridge. However, there is a limit to how much openness I'd consider healthy for both of us. I repeat, we need to talk."

  "I'm unwilling to allow either of your companions to board."

  "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going up there alone!"

  "We're not about to kidnap you, lady, not so . . . openly," Joat said sarcastically.

  "You have two crewmen aboard," the woman said, her eyes flashing. "I'm not willing to be alone under those circumstances."

  "My crew are trained to stand a watch, distribute cargo, fill out manifests and keep the ship functioning. Your friends appear to have benefited from . . . another kind of training altogether." Like how to turn people's heads around so they can look down between their shoulder blades. Aloud she said, "May I suggest a compromise?"

  "Please. Do."

  "One of your people stays with your landcar, one stays by the lock with my crewmen, and you join me on the bridge for a private talk."

  The woman considered it. Joat thought she was going to refuse, then she put her glasses back on decisively and nodded.

  "All right. That's acceptable."

  Joat keyed the lift, raising her other hand to still the protests. "With you masters of self-defense on hand, what do I have to worry about?"

  "Energy weapons, capture, torture, death," Joseph suggested.

  "Masters!" Alvev said. "Oh, good. I would've been worried if I didn't know that."

  "Go on and meet them," Joat said. She put a hand on each rocklike shoulder and shoved gently. "I'm a big girl now."

  * * *

  She should have been in the vids, Joat thought. That entrance was a masterpiece. As if Silken entering a room automatically made her the most important thing in it.

  "Yes?" the Captain of the Wyal said after a moment's silence.

  Silken simply stood in the center of the room and held up the blue datahedron that Joat had transported. Her gaze stayed unfocused, only the tapping of one slim booted foot demanding attention.

  It's times like this I'm really glad I'm a woman, Joat thought complacently.

  Joat reclined in the pilot's crash-couch, her legs crossed, hands loosely clasped on her stomach. She raised a brow and spoke again, with just a shade more emphasis:

  "Yes?"

  After a moment Silken sighed in irritation. She put one hand on her hip and flicked the datahedron with one manicured nail.

  "This," she said, "is garbage."

  "No," Joat assured her, "it's good."

  Silken turned slowly towards her, between clenched teeth she asked, "Then why can't I read it?"

  "You can't read it because it scrambles every time you try to access it." Joat blinked at her and beamed an innocent smile. "It can be fixed very easily."

  "Then I suggest that you do so." Silken held the hedron out to her and walked towards the pilot's station.

  Hey, nice slink, Joat thought. Pity it's wasted on me—I wonder if I could learn to walk like that?

  "There is a problem," Joat said regretfully, ignoring Silken's outstretched hand. "Your agents shortchanged me."

  "I don't see how that's my concern," Silken told her, simply opening her fingers and dropping the datahedron into Joat's lap. Raising one exquisite brow she asked: "You're not trying to shake me down for more credits, are you?" Then she leaned towards Joat until their faces were mere inches apart. "You couldn't possibly be that stupid." Her green eyes narrowed dangerously. "Could you?"

  Joat looked back at her. "Would you please get out of my face?" she asked politely.

  Silken straightened in surprise. Then she laughed. "You must be crazy! Don't you know who I am?"

  Joat felt an almost pleasant rush of nostalgia. Stationer kids on the docks used to act that way. Expecting you to know and genuflect to their little play hierarchy; and they didn't know squat about the really important shipside ones.

  "Actually, no, I don't know who you are, since you haven't bothered to introduce yourself." Joat waved that aside. "Not that it matters. What matters is, I negotiated my fee for delivery of this little treasure right at the outset. When I arrived here I was due twenty-five thousand credits."

  Silken's face reflected her disbelief.

  "You can't be serious," she said scornfully. "The job wasn't worth that! No one would agree to that figure."

  "Look." Joat held up her hands. "I put my ship and my reputation on the line when
I took your shipment; and I deliver on time and in good condition—it's all in my record. If reliability like that is too expensive, then no, you shouldn't be doing business with me. I fulfilled my side of the bargain. I am now owed twenty thousand credits. Upon receipt of the outstanding amount, you will receive your shipment. Unscathed. That's it."

  Silken must have realized that her mouth was open because she closed it with an audible clop.

  "You're . . . serious," she whispered, and shook her head in wonder. "Well," she said and looked around for someplace to sit down, "this is refreshing."

  Joat looked at her sympathetically. "Honest dealing saves so much time!" she said earnestly. "Had I been paid, you wouldn't be here; you'd be accessing that hedron." She placed a hand on her chest. "But you must see that I can't allow myself to be cheated, it sets a bad precedent. And think about it, if he cheated me, he's cheating you."

  "Of course he's cheating me," Silken said with a condescending little moue. She settled herself with catlike delicacy onto the navigator's chair. "Everyone cheats in this business."

  "Not me," Joat said. "That's a fool's game and I don't have time for it. You can accomplish a lot more if you're not dividing your energy that way." She looked the other woman in the eye. "Pay me and I can clear that data in a few seconds. I'd like to do that for you."

  Silken narrowed her green eyes. "Do you know what I can do to you?" she asked.

  Now, that was a mistake. You should do menace cold, You don't have the facial bones for direct threats. In fact, she looked a little like an angry kitten.

  Joat shrugged. "That's kind of irrelevant, isn't it? What really matters to you is that you'll lose any advantage that datahedron offers and everything you've invested in it up to this point. Although to be perfectly fair, if we can't come to an agreement on this I really should refund you the five thousand that your agent paid me yesterday."

  Joat blinked in astonishment as Silken laughed and lay back in the navigator's recliner.

  "Surreal," the other woman said. This conversation is . . . surreal. Call up your account and I'll give you the damned credits."