Bloodstone

by Kathryn Hoff

  My stomach dropped. Losing Hiram would mean losing one more tie with Papa. And without Hiram’s skill and knowledge of shortcuts and backroads, we’d have a tougher time keeping the business going.

  Kojo put a comforting hand on my arm. “Maybe it’s for the best. We could sell Sparrow, pay off everyone, have a clean slate. Everything simple.”

  “We can’t sell Sparrow. She still has Papa’s spirit in her.” I blinked back tears, looking around the dim cabin where Papa had spent his last days, where I’d nursed him while Kojo and Hiram struggled to get us to a port with a Terran med center. “I know you don’t believe in spirits, but for me they’re real.”

  “We may not have much choice. If we’ve got to sell out, we’ll split whatever’s left after paying our debts. You can find a job with the traders on Palermo or somewhere else where nobody gives a damn who your parents were.” Kojo touched my hand. “Think about it—if we weren’t tied down by Sparrow and all that debt, you could be really free. Go anywhere, make a new start.”

  I forced my hands out of tight fists. “I don’t need a fresh start. Sparrow is the only home I want. Papa made a go of it and so can we. Kojo, promise me! Don’t make any decisions until we finish Ordalo’s job. We’ll see where we stand then.”

  Kojo turned to watch the swirling ether. “Sure, Patch. That’s the important thing—we’ll deliver the goods. After that, we’ll see what comes.”

  The ether glowed a lovely blue that evening, with a few of the brighter stars shining through. The soft light from the viewscreens helped to disguise the shabby carpet and couches.

  We still had a few hours of sublight travel before we reached the first jump gate of our journey. Kojo had dressed to impress in one of Papa’s best jackets, and he’d shaved again. He sat at the head of the table, with Miranda in the honored seat at his right. She wore a black blouse and a flowing gold scarf that set off her bronze skin and dark hair.

  I eyed her tidy bun and pulled my hat lower to control my curls.

  As Sparrow trembled in the ether currents, Kojo patted Miranda’s hand. “Don’t worry, the ride will smooth out once we get to the jump gate.”

  “We’re so grateful for your help today.” She bit her lip prettily. “I know I asked to avoid checkpoints, but is the route safe?”

  Kojo pointed to the swirls of ether on the viewscreen. “Sure. As long as we’re in Selkid space, we should be safe from pirates. No one likes paying protection fees, but the Selkid Trading Cartel is very efficient at controlling bandits.”

  Her brows knitted. “What about the Corridor Patrol? I’d prefer our route not be tracked.”

  “We’ll use the outlying jump gates and bypass the big hubs. We’ll have one long passage at sublight—we’ll use a current that runs through the mining sector—to avoid the checkpoint between Selkid sectors and Terran space. Trust me, you’ll be safe enough from ether currents, pirates, and the Patrol.”

  Miranda fiddled with her napkin. “I know it’s wrong to circumvent the authorities, but it’s ridiculous to restrict something as beneficial as a hydroverter.”

  Kojo was practically purring. “We couldn’t agree more. Some rules are meant to be bent.”

  All that honey made me want to gag.

  “Burzing gorillas,” Grimbold mumbled.

  I glowered at him until he shrugged.

  “No offense,” he said. “I just can’t stand that self-righteous Gav crap about looking after us ‘lesser’ races. Just an excuse to keep us from settling more planets.”

  I reminded myself that Grimbold would be aboard for only a few days. Glancing at his soft, manicured fingers, I asked, “Will you be farming on Oakdale?”

  Grimbold helped himself to more pilaf. “Old friends there. They’ll help us get set up.”

  Miranda reached out to take her companion’s hand. “In fact, Grim and I are running away, going to Oakdale to begin a new life together. That’s why we need the hydroverter and why we wanted to take a, well, less public route.”

  “Running away? Together?” Kojo’s shoulders drooped.

  Miranda smiled shyly. “You see, I’m from one of the outer settlements. My parents arranged a marriage for me to an older man. A much older man.” She turned to Grimbold with a shining smile. “But Grim and I are in love, and we couldn’t bear to be apart.”

  “Right. Couldn’t stand by and see the lady sold off like that, could I?” Grimbold lifted his chin to look stalwart, almost noble. He patted Miranda’s hand before picking up a spoon.

  It was a scene straight out of a romance entertainment—a third-rate one. Kojo turned his head to me so they wouldn’t see his rolling eyes.

  I covered my mouth with my napkin and managed not to giggle as I choked out, “Best wishes on your marriage.”

  Grimbold was eyeing Sparrow’s structure. “Selkid ship, cutter class. Old military design. How’d you come to have her?”

  Kojo grinned. “Our dad won her on a bet from some Selkid oligarch. I’ve been on this ship since I was nine years old, as cabin boy, engineer, pilot, and now captain and owner.”

  In fact, Papa had captured Sparrowhawk in a furious battle with a gunrunner, back in his days as a privateer. I hoped Papa was rollicking about in the afterlife with the same flair he’d enjoyed in life.

  I nudged Kojo’s ankle. “Sparrowhawk belongs to both of us. She’s named for a bird from back on Earth, one that’s small but fierce.”

  “I think it’s adorable,” Miranda said.

  Kojo winked at me and squared his shoulders. “You know, Miranda, as captain, I can marry you two aboard Sparrowhawk. Give you a romantic tale to tell your friends on Oakdale.”

  “Great idea!” I said. “The pilot and I could be witnesses.”

  Miranda’s eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t think of that! I didn’t realize that old custom was still valid.”

  Grim cleared his throat. “Thanks all the same, but we wouldn’t want to disappoint our chums on Oakdale. Would we, dear?”

  Miranda tittered and touched her napkin to her lips.

  The engine room during sublight sailing was a noisy place. The steady throb of the propulsion drivers was punctuated by whistles and snorts from the maneuvering rockets and pings from the monitors showing status changes and power drains. Four freezer bays for jump cells lined one side of the room; the six bays for power modules were ranked on the other. Between them, two bolted-down swivel chairs faced consoles and monitors, viewscreen and scanner. Within easy reach were the controls for the propulsion balance and maneuvering rockets, and the trigger for a thruster burst that could launch the ship off a planet even without the help of lifters or ease her down gently to the surface. A cubby tucked into the corner housed a bunk for quiet times.

  The place smelled of lube and Prestoclean—Archer kept the place fastidiously clean and polished. I found Archer’s compulsion for neat surroundings ironic, since his clothes were always a mess and his face was rarely clean.

  I’d come to see if Archer needed help shifting the heavy jump cells out of cold storage, forgetting for a moment that Fandar was there to help with the heavy lifting.

  Archer spritzed some Prestoclean onto the panel of gauges and wiped it down. “Fandar’s doing all right, Patch,” he said. “He’s still learning, but he won’t be any trouble. Today I told him all about the differences between Gav engines and ours.”

  Fandar, shoulders slumped and heavy brow knitted, turned away with a resigned sigh. I almost pitied him: Archer could talk about engines for hours without needing a response or noticing any sign of boredom.

  Fandar was handsome, for a Gavoran. His light brown fur set off intelligent eyes and a wide, thin-lipped mouth. I could see how an aristo daughter might be attracted.

  “I’m glad you’re settling in.” I pointed to his improvised bandage. “You haven’t tried to burn the brand off yourself, have you? Do you want me to look at it?”

  “Oh, no, Mzee. I simply don’t wish to see the mark of servitude.” He self-conscious
ly touched the bandage. “Please, Mzee, what is your clan?”

  “Don’t worry. I was raised by my Terran father. I don’t have anything to do with the clans.” I still wasn’t comfortable with a Gav on my ship. I’d spent years avoiding them, fearful that somehow I’d be dragged to Gavoran sectors and forced back into slavery. Even a poor runaway made me nervous.

  “Your Terran is very good,” I said.

  “My masters required me to learn. There were Terrans also where…where I was before.” He turned away, perhaps reluctant to speak of his home.

  “Any good gossip about our passengers?” Archer asked.

  I laughed. “They said they’re runaways themselves. They’re eloping so she can avoid an arranged marriage.” For a moment, I imagined eloping with a lover—stolen kisses, a romantic rendezvous, and sailing away in Sparrow to live happily ever after.

  Archer jiggled a foot. “Good for her! See, Fandar? Everyone has a right to choose for themselves.”

  Fandar accepted this bit of encouragement with a stony face.

  “Fandar’s already chosen for himself,” I said. “The penalties on runaways are so severe—what made you take the risk?”

  Fandar rubbed his hands. “Please understand, I did nothing dishonorable in my masters’ home. My misfortune was that the daughter became attached to me. At the mines, I did my best, but it was a place of bad luck, terrible accidents. The miners said evil spirits were at work.” Fandar shuddered at the memory. “But the leader of my work crew was kind and took me for her companion.”

  I nodded. In the matriarchal Gav society, it was the females who chose their lovers. A young, educated house servant would be a nice change from rugged miners.

  “For a time, she protected me from the other miners and the worst of the work. But then…she died.” He bent his head, stroking the puckered skin of the scar on his wrist. “I thought to end my pain. I awakened in the medical center.”

  How terrible. To decide to die, only to be dragged back to life to face punishment.

  Archer was riveted. “Did they send you back to the mines?”

  “I know it is shameful to abandon my duty, but I could not bear to go back. I had heard rumors that Terrans might help runaway slaves. I escaped the hospital and hid in a transport to Santerro. And then”—he smiled widely—“the blessed Sages favored me by sending this ship to me, and kind Archer, who told me the captain and mistress of the ship would not betray my trust.”

  Archer grinned and bobbed his head at this. I’d have to have a talk with that man. He had the softest heart in the outer sectors, but this time he’d been way too generous with my and Kojo’s ship.

  “And the ancestors granted my prayers that the crew of this ship be generous! Gratitude to you, Mzee Patch, and to my new friend Archer! And to the ancestors. I will work very hard, Mzee Patch.”

  “Just make sure you stay out of the passengers’ sight,” I said.

  Kojo’s voice came over the com, “All hands, approaching gate. Secure for jump.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Suspicious behavior

  I joined Kojo in the wheelhouse while we took our place among the cargo haulers lined up to make the jump.

  Arching over the ships was the spidery gantry of the jump gate: part beacon to guide ships through the ether, part relay station to speed communications across vast stretches of space, and most important, a gateway to the faster-than-light star corridors to other star systems.

  “Anything going on?” I shooed Tinker off the watch station seat and took her place. The hailer crackled with chatter among the waiting ships, punctuated by announcements relayed by the beacon to traffic entering and leaving the gate.

  Tinker sniffed my feet to see if I’d been anywhere interesting. Satisfied, she stretched elegantly, forelegs extended, chest to the deck, hindquarters high, before settling into a good licking session.

  Kojo stretched as well, less elegantly. “Nothing unusual. Typical Patrol alerts, usual complaints from the Cartel ships.”

  “What’s our course?”

  Kojo pointed to the charts. “The lady wants backroads. From here, we’ll make a quick jump to this gate, then this, and this.” He tapped the lines between jump gates that indicated star corridors. “We’ll pick up the current that passes the Lazuna mines. Once we cross into Terran space, we’ll hit the jump gate near Ringgold. From there, we’ll make two jumps to the ag sector, then sublight to Oakdale.”

  “That should be off track enough.” I tapped my fingers on the console, counting the drain on jump cells and power mods. “Five jumps and two legs at sublight. Archer said the cells tested light. I hope we have enough to get back to Palermo—restocking in a remote place like Oakdale would be expensive.” I wished we were going straight home. I’d been looking forward to having a few days to relax.

  A ping from the console signaled our turn to enter the jump gate.

  Kojo maneuvered Sparrow into position within the gateway’s arch. Blue lights on the gantry turned a deep red to indicate proper alignment.

  A message came in. Destination gate?

  Kojo keyed in the code for the least used of the five connecting star corridors.

  Destination gate confirmed.

  I had no idea how the gates worked—nobody did. Gavorans had built and placed the gateways and beacons millennia ago, under the direction of the Sages and using Sage components, to enable the far-flung races to communicate and travel beyond their own isolated star systems. But the Sages had been gone for five thousand years. Without them, we’d lost all knowledge of how the corridors carried ships and messages between gates at faster-than-light speeds.

  “Archer, engage jump cells.”

  Archer responded by com. “Jump cells engaged.”

  Kojo unlatched the jump activator. “Activating jump.”

  The gateway and all the ships waiting nearby blurred and disappeared. All hails and chatter ceased, no outside communication being possible within the star corridor. The ether haze grew slightly darker, but otherwise, the view was largely unchanged. And yet, somehow, at the end of a few hours or days, we would alight at another gate in another star system, ready to repeat the process.

  Tinker twitched her ears and scooted out, called by some urgent cat business.

  Kojo kept an eye on the scanner showing our position in the corridor. Once inside the star corridors, there was little for the pilot to do other than monitor power usage and ship functions.

  I relaxed, enjoying the stars and companionship. I used to sit with Papa that way. Kojo’s high-handedness and devil-may-care attitude might get on my nerves, but those were the same traits that had made Papa a daring captain. My eyes got teary.

  “I miss Dad, too,” Kojo said.

  I sniffed. “Papa would be proud of you. The ship’s running well, we’ve got a good crew, and we’ve got cargo and passengers.” I rubbed my arm under my sleeve.

  “Huh. The ship needs rehauling, the crew hasn’t been paid, and we’re up to our ears in debt. And stop that—if you keep scratching, you’ll open up that scar. If that happens, you might as well have a brand all over again.”

  I forced my hand down. “It tore open on Santerro and I had to put a skin seal on it. I’ll try to be less conspicuous. Especially now that we have a Gavoran aboard.”

  “Damnit. Does he know you’re from a slave clan?”

  “Fandar knows I’m a hybrid, but I’ve never even told Archer anything about my clan.”

  “I hope not. What made him run?”

  “Fandar said it was a bad-luck place, lots of accidents. At first, he was under the wing of the crew leader, who took him for her lover. But she died and Fandar tried to kill himself. When that failed, he lit out to take his chances.”

  “Good for him.”

  I glanced at Kojo, twisting my hair and thinking. “Something seemed off, though.”

  “What?”

  I focused on the glowing ether, trying to remember what had bothered me. “He thanked the blessed
Sages, but it’s the upper castes who worship the Sages. In ancient times, it was the Sages who dictated that some clans would be slaves forever. We venerated our ancestors, but we’d never pray to the Sages.”

  “He was a house slave—maybe he got taken to the masters’ religious services.”

  My mother and I had been a house slaves, too, and we’d been taken to Sage temples, but we’d resented every moment of it. And now that I thought about it…“He said he was afraid of evil spirits.”

  “What’s wrong with that? You believe in spirits.”

  I looked at Kojo seriously. “Spirits aren’t evil. They’re just family who lend us wisdom and courage to face whatever life brings.”

  Kojo grunted. “Maybe in the mines things are different. If I was stuck there, you can bet I’d be seeing ghosts behind every rock.”

  Maybe. But no slave I’d ever known had blamed the spirits for unsafe conditions the masters had created.

  We were quiet for a few minutes.

  “Sorry about Miranda,” I said. “Her being tied up with Grimbold.”

  Kojo grinned. “How’d you like that romantic story?”

  I chuckled. “Not even close to believable. She’s too old for anyone to be arranging a marriage for her. And if he’s a farmer, then I’m a Selkid geisha.”

  Kojo laughed. “Con man, more like. Somehow, they got their hands on a hydroverter, and they know they can sell it on the ag planets. I’ll bet the only reason they’re traveling together is because they don’t trust one another. Miranda must have dreamed up that elaborate cover story—he doesn’t seem like the romantic type.”

  “I thought Grimbold would choke when you offered to marry them!”

  He shook his head. “Amateurs. They should just keep it simple.”

  I glanced at him. Passengers who lied and were smuggling tech. A runaway slave to keep out of sight. And that risky delivery to Ordalo. At the moment, keeping it simple was the one thing we couldn’t do.

  I pulled my bunk down that evening, but sleep didn’t come. The more I thought about the weeks ahead, the more I worried. The business was teetering, propped up by goodwill from suppliers, hopes for the future, and loans whose interest grew like cancer. And Kojo—I knew he was tempted by the Cartel’s offer. He loved handling the helm and the engines, but he was utterly bored by the day-to-day business of buying and selling and meeting expenses.