The City and the Ship

by Anne McCaffrey

  "You can't hope to win such a claim," Rand's voice was almost surprised.

  "Of course not. But it would cost more to hire an assassin than it would to pay me what she owes, and it would cost twice that to retain an attorney."

  "She could challenge you to a duel."

  "I can take her."

  "If I were human, I would laugh. Silken hates you, Joat. To the point of obsession. I'm sure that nothing would give her greater pleasure than killing you herself. Probably she hasn't challenged you simply because it hasn't occurred to her."

  Joat grinned savagely.

  "Oh, it's occurred to her all right. But she won't risk leaving Ciety alone and at the mercy of the Family. If he were dead we'd have crossed swords long since."

  "So you'll be able to leave."

  "Yes. And I'll be able to call in favors, perhaps get a loan," she was silent a moment, "maybe even get through to Bros. So don't give up on me. Okay? I won't make that an order."

  Philosophers might debate whether it was possible for a computer to commit suicide, since it wasn't certain that they could be self-aware in the first place. Rand's "impassive" face blinked multicolored lights for a few moments.

  "Very well, I will abide. But, if I am sold to someone else, Joat, I won't serve them. If worst comes to worst I've saved a copy of Seg's worm program. Should some other bidder obtain the Wyal, I shall trigger it. If I don't fight it, it will be very quick."

  "You can't be serious," Joat whispered. She couldn't believe her ears. "Aren't you even willing to give a new owner a chance to prove their worth before taking such a drastic step?"

  She wondered if she'd programmed him for self-preservation. Of course I did! I couldn't possibly have left it out, it's too important. Not that it was unknown for Rand to erase bits of programming he didn't want anymore. She'd never locked down any part of him, preferring to leave that . . . freedom, for himself.

  "I am an individual," Rand insisted, "there is no more individual choice than this."

  Joat sat still, too horrified to speak.

  "All right, that's enough," the shorter repo-man struck the back of her chair, making it spin towards him. "Stop yakking to the computer, go pack up your belongings and get lost."

  Her mind was wholly on Rand, or she would have kicked his tubby form through the bulkhead. Instead she gave him a disgusted look and headed off the bridge.

  "Hey! Don't forget these," he said and handed her the collection of datahedrons she'd made.

  "Personal files, erased," said Rand mechanically.

  * * *

  Joat sat in the auction room with her heart in her mouth.

  It was an enormous hall, too brightly lit, with a strange sharp smell to it. The hall was furnished with ugly, uncomfortable chairs each having one arm that terminated in a small computer with a display screen. Currently it displayed the ship being bid on. There were a few controls that would call up information on the ship, schematics, history, and beside them a slot into which a successful bidder's credit chip would go. Almost every seat was filled with junk dealers, purchase agents, and bargain hunters.

  She had with her every credit she could beg, borrow or earn and it was still forty thousand credits short of the fine.

  Wyal was going on the block.

  It was third on the list and the closer it got to the top the faster her heart beat. Her palms were sweating and she rubbed them surreptitiously on the fabric of her dark blue business suit. The strange, formal garment she wore in hope of looking more respectable only succeeded in making her feel obvious and awkward. I should have robbed that bank. I should. Robbing banks on Rohan . . .

  The hammer went down and the Wyal moved one place closer to the block. Her breathing grew nervous and ragged.

  She knew, she knew that she wouldn't get her ship back. Silken was certain to have agents among the bidders who would know to the credit how much she had. Agents who were, no doubt, instructed to bid just one credit more.

  Alvec, who was working short, freelance hops, had offered his life savings.

  "I can't take this," she'd told him, horrified and deeply touched, as well as terribly tempted.

  "So make me a partner," he'd said.

  And she'd smiled, hope blazing.

  But it hadn't been enough. It had never been enough and Bros Sperin remained beyond her reach. So here she was, facing certain defeat, feeling humiliated before she even began.

  How could I have been so stupid? she railed at herself. When had she grown so soft that she would put her freedom on the line, for someone else, mind you, with no expectation of cost or reward? My own fault. Playing at spy, she mocked, I'm no better than Seg !T'sel.

  Alvec was furious with her for not asking Amos for help.

  "I asked my father," she'd said. Though of course she hadn't told Simeon why she needed credits. "That's as much as my pride can take."

  That was partially true, it had hurt to ask Simeon for help. Even though he gave it willingly and offered to take out a loan for more, no questions asked, it hurt. She'd felt like a complete failure. First Brawn school, and now this.

  Nor did she dare to ask Amos for help. Bethel was a poor planet, most of her credits already committed for years to come. And though he was very rich, Amos was in the habit of pouring most of his wealth back into his world's struggling economy. She couldn't very well ask him to choose her needs over the good of his people. And she didn't think he would really understand about Rand.

  Joat wondered if Joseph and Amos hovered in the same state of anxiety that tortured her, wanting to give, not daring to offer. Or if they even knew.

  Either way she simply couldn't afford the time or the money it would cost to ask, only to be told no.

  A deeper truth was that she felt Amos should have offered. Or Joseph should have. He knew all about the debt. Yet the total silence from all the powerful people she'd counted as friends—or more than friends—never varied. In the end she was just a forgotten detail, an unimportant loose end.

  Joat frowned. Oh, stop it, she thought disgustedly, there's no poison deadlier than self-pity. The mistake was yours and so's the punishment.

  Although that last wasn't completely true. Rand had made it very plain that he didn't count himself as part of the ship.

  Rand's threat had certainly inspired her to new heights, and depths, in her fund-raising efforts. Sometimes, late at night when she couldn't get to sleep for thinking about it, Joat told herself that was why he'd made it. To get her over her shyness about asking friends for help.

  Probably he doesn't mean to erase himself at all, she comforted herself. Hah! A computer that plays with you. Somehow I don't think this idea will sell.

  Joat knew that if she lost the ship, and Rand erased himself, for the rest of her life, she was going to feel like a failure and a murderer.

  There might still be time to get through to Amos on Bethel, she thought.

  The next ship up was a tasty offering that seemed to have excited a lot of interest. Of course sometimes those were the ones that came on and off the block so fast you couldn't get a decent look at them.

  Then there was the cost to consider.

  A tight-beam interstellar com-link could cost me four percent of what I've got. On the other hand . . . On the other hand Silken's bidders wouldn't let her have the Wyal anyway unless she could exceed Nomik Ciety's entire fortune. And she couldn't even pay the fine.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them she saw that she'd been right. The bidding was over and the ship had sold.

  "I have an announcement," the auctioneer said. "The Wyal, which is the next ship on the list, has been withdrawn from bid. We're sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused. I'll repeat that. The Wyal, a merchant freighter ship, has been withdrawn from bid."

  Joat's felt the bottom of her stomach lurch into zero-g. My ship! What have they done with my ship?

  Absently she noted two bidders that turned to stare at her. Silken's people, n
o doubt. Well, they seemed satisfied by the look of white-faced horror that she knew she must be wearing. They'd be happy to report this disaster to their employer.

  "They can't do that!" Joat said desperately.

  The Sondee next to her looked up when she spoke.

  "How can they do that?" she asked.

  The Sondee shrugged. "Sometimes they get a private bid that more than meets the minimum price. In this case it wouldn't take much. The Wyal is a crummy little ship."

  Joat raised an eyebrow and glared.

  Instead of defending the honor or her ship she spoke: "What if you had questions about something like this? Where would you go to ask them?"

  "Why, at the same office where you were assigned your seat. Through that door, down the hall, first door on the right," the Sondee said helpfully, then pointedly turned back to the auction.

  Joat found the office empty, which infuriated her. She swore and muttered, pacing back and forth before the tall counter more and more rapidly.

  At last frustrated beyond bearing she shouted, "Hello? Is anyone working here?"

  No one answered.

  She marched out into the hall, determined to open the first door she detected a being behind and demand service.

  At the end of the corridor she turned left, at the end of that one, she found the president's office and went briskly in.

  "I'd like to speak to someone in authority," she said to the surprised secretary.

  "Do you have an appointment?" he asked politely.

  "No, but I do have questions."

  "Perhaps I can help you."

  "I said someone in authority. That wouldn't be you." She marched over to the door of the inner sanctum and before the secretary could disengage himself from his desk, she was through it.

  A well-dressed human in his mid-sixties sat behind the wide, wooden desk, a pleasant smile frozen on his face by her entrance. The younger man seated before him turned to see who had entered so precipitously.

  It was Bros.

  "You!" she said, her voice a near shriek.

  He rose smiling and extended his arms as though to embrace her.

  She backed up a pace and stood glaring at him, breathing hard, wanting to hit him and knowing that if she landed a blow it was because he let her.

  No thank you, she thought, I think I've been humiliated enough lately. She turned and walked away thinking over and over, I'm going to kill him, I'm going to kill him . . .

  "Excuse me," Bros said over his shoulder and followed her.

  She was moving pretty fast when he caught her by the arm and pulled her through the first door they came to. It was an empty office. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it.

  She paced back and forth, too furious to speak, glaring at him.

  "I don't blame you for being angry," he said at last. "But there was nothing I could do until now. I didn't even know that this hadn't been acted on. I told them about it in my report, I insisted that we had an obligation to see that your debt was canceled, reduced or paid. But I didn't know it hadn't been done." He held out a datahedron.

  "This is yours, Wyal's papers."

  She took it carefully and swallowed hard.

  "And where were you that you couldn't answer any of my messages? That you never attempted to get in contact with any of us?" She stood with her arms folded, looking him square in the face and asking with her eyes. And how could you leave me believing that stuff about caring about me? How dare you make me believe in you like that?

  "You have to understand, Joat, I was interrogated by the enemy. It's customary to hold an agent incommunicado for at least two months afterwards. There are very solid reasons for it. If the Kolnari were a more sophisticated people, I wouldn't be free now." He frowned at her unchanging stare. "Look, I came as soon as I knew, okay?"

  She nodded reluctantly.

  "So, what happens now? Can I just leave? I've really got my ship back?"

  He nodded and gravely watched Joat smile.

  She couldn't help herself, the tension disappeared and joy broke over her face like a sunrise.

  "How . . . how did you find out? You must have just been released. Was it the first question you asked?" She blushed "I mean, did you say: 'What's going on with the Wyal?' or what?"

  "Simeon told me. He's the one who speeded up my release in fact. Officially, I should still be in quarantine for three days."

  "My father?" she squeaked. "How could he possibly have known?"

  "Rand sent a message blip to a passing brainship, who relayed it to a city manager and so on and so on."

  "Oh fardles!" she clutched her hair. "They're the biggest gossips in Central Worlds. This means that literally everybody knows about this." Her voice had grown hollow and she leaned weakly against the desk. "I'll never be able to show my face in port again. And as for visiting the SSS-900-C . . ." She hid her face in her hands and groaned.

  Bros grinned at her and shook his head.

  "Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth. It was a private letter and was treated as such. The problem your father had was wondering why you didn't ask him for help. You were certainly entitled to it."

  "I did ask him for help. I asked him for a loan, a huge loan and he gave it to me, no questions asked."

  "Oh, I wouldn't say that," Bros said, laughing. "He had a million of 'em for me."

  Joat looked at him earnestly. "It simply never occurred to me to ask him for official help. You were the only one I thought could help me, because you guaranteed our expenses. I tried every avenue I could think of within CenSec." She shrugged helplessly. "But Simeon never occurred to me."

  "And what about the Benisur?"

  "I couldn't afford to go personally. Travel time was time I wasn't earning credits. I kept wanting to contact him, but time was short and I didn't dare risk the credits a tight-beam would cost. What if he couldn't afford to help me? What if he had to say no? Then I'd be out all those credits for nothing."

  "Good thing Rand was thinking more clearly than you were."

  She laughed. "Yes, it was. He's very bright, don't you think?"

  Bros nodded, smiling.

  "I brought this for you," he said and held out another datahedron.

  "What is it?" she looked from the hedron to Bros.

  He straightened.

  "Well, after this and ten years, I've gone about as far as I'm going to with CenSec and still be allowed to do anything," he explained as he casually closed the distance between them. "But I've got a strong suspicion that Joat Simeon-Hap Enterprises is going to go far. And you'll definitely need a good security man."

  Suddenly Joat found herself wrapped in a warm embrace. She stiffened and opened her mouth to object.

  He kissed her lightly and smiled warmly down at her. Then gently pressed her head against his chest, resting his chin on her smooth blond hair.

  "It's okay to lean on your friends, Joat. There's no harm in it."

  "Oh, all right," she grumbled. "You're hired."

  "Good." He kissed the top of her head.

  She looked up. She could just see an earlobe beyond the curve of his lean jaw.

  "Are you sure you want to do this? Silken could be a problem."

  "I'm sure she will be."

  "And some of the Kolnari got away. You know what they're like."

  "Yes," he said comfortably and stroked her back. "I do."

  Joat wriggled unhappily, enjoying the sensation but not trusting it. She couldn't help wondering what he really wanted.

  Bros smiled. I'd love to tell you that I bought Wyal back for you with my retirement fund, but I don't dare. You'd never let me get away with that.

  He'd also resigned from CenSec over their refusal to help Joat. Though to be honest, he'd been disappointed and surprised when they'd accepted it so quickly.

  Still, it was the least I could do for you, he thought. Considering what Belazir would have done to you if . . . He let the thought slide, his embrace tightening unconsciously.r />
  "And we can still work for Central Security sometimes. Right?" he asked. After all, I'd hate to feel completely cast off.

  "Don't push your luck," she said and pulled away to grin up at him.

  That's better, she thought, feeling more in control. All she'd needed was a handle, a reason behind his behavior. Clearly CenSec thinks they can use me, so they've sent Bros along to be their agent-in-residence. Hah! Still . . . might be fun. In fact, she was already looking forward to it. She'd enjoyed bargaining with Sperin. Especially since, in the end, I got the better of him.

  Bros smiled down into her amused blue eyes, aware that she thought she had his number, and sighed in his mind. This thing is going to take a lot of time, he thought. Good thing I've got plenty to spend. There was a slight pang at the thought of his lost career.

  "So," she said stepping out of his arms, "let's get going."

  "Yes, Boss."

  Joat snapped him a look.

  "You realize that you're not going to be making big credits right away."

  "Yes, Boss."

  "I'll bet you expect me to make you a partner one day, don't you?"

  "Yes, Boss."

  "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched, Sperin. You'll have to earn it."

  "Anything worthwhile has to be earned, one way or another," he said.

  Joat let out a long breath, feeling the stiffness flow from muscles she hadn't known were tense. She smiled, and turned her head away.

  "Yeah."

  THE END