Bloodstone

by Kathryn Hoff

  I sighed. “We can do it, once we sell the cargo we’re carrying and reconfigure a couple of holds into cabins. Passengers will have to share. Mzee Lyden, I’m afraid the accommodations are not very suitable for a scholar of your eminence.” And age—she looked far too frail to be heading off on an exploration.

  “I am quite happy to share quarters with Mya. A little discomfort is of no consequence.”

  Mya nodded and mumbled, “Yes, of course.”

  “What about our cargo? Right now, our holds are full. I need a chance to sell it.”

  “You will be compensated for your cargo,” Danto replied. “You, your crew, and your passengers are now sequestered. There will be no outside communication except as authorized by me.”

  I hated losing the chance to sell the brandy almost as much as I hated the idea of carrying a bunch of Gavs around for sixty days.

  I recorded all the special terms into a charter contract on my datacon. Charter party: Corridor Patrol. Duration: Sixty standard days. Destination: To be agreed.

  “Just to be clear, Sergeant,” Kojo said. “You may lead the mission, but as captain of a chartered vessel, I will retain full authority over the ship and crew. That includes the right to withdraw from the voyage if I deem it too risky to continue. Full captain’s prerogatives.”

  Danto nodded. “Normal charter terms will be respected.”

  Good. Kojo could manufacture a reason to terminate the voyage when the time came to deliver the synthreactor.

  I put my imprint on the contract and Danto added his. It was done.

  “I’ll tell the crew,” Kojo said. “Jamila, I’ll leave it to you and the sergeant to explain matters to Grimbold.”

  The cat squirmed out of Hiram’s arms. “Damnit, Kojo. I haven’t seen the inside of a bar or a brothel since we left Santerro. And you’re talking about staying aboard and sober for two more months?”

  Kojo smiled. “Sorry, Hiram. At least you can have some drinking time while we’re parked at the checkpoint. I can’t do much about the other. We don’t have a choice here—either we take the charter or cool our heels in a Corridor Patrol isolation facility.”

  Hiram shuddered. “I’d rather sail, I guess. The Patrol ain’t got no sense of humor.”

  “I don’t remember much about Kriti,” Kojo said. “Just how depressing it was, sailing through the Gloom.”

  Hiram pulled up the chart for sector 377 and stabbed a finger at the sector’s sole jump gate. “The corridor from Saipan dead-ends at the Kriti system, right at the edge of the Gloom. From the gate, its ten days’ hard sailing to Kriti. The planet’s got a fair-sized port, serves the Terran settlements sprinkled around. A pity we’re not hauling cargo: A load of used ag equipment or plague-resistant chickens would do well there.”

  “Instead, we’ll have a hold full of power modules and survey equipment, all to chase a myth on the word of a fanatic.”

  I peered at the chart. Depressing was right—the listed settlements were tiny and sparse, the whole system riddled with warnings about radiation, dangerous currents, and ether too dense to navigate.

  Hiram raised a bushy eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind spending a little time in Kriti. Lots of opportunities there.” He cocked his head in an unspoken question.

  Kojo rubbed his chin. “Maybe we can persuade Danto that we need a few days’ shore leave there before we head into the Gloom.”

  I nodded. A sudden illness, a broken part—somehow we’d find a way to contact Ordalo to arrange delivery.

  Hiram exchanged a look with Kojo. “Don’t you worry, lad and missy. I’ll stick with you through this job. But after that—it’s time for me to stop all this flitting about and get something steadier. No surprises. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

  I blinked back tears. “Oh, Hiram, you know how much we’ll miss you. But I can’t blame you—you’ve been wonderful, staying on Sparrow so long.”

  Kojo slapped Hiram’s shoulder. “Thanks, old man. Just see us through this job, help us settle what we’ve promised. We can’t ask for more than that.”

  Archer jittered, flapping his arms and grinning. “Explore a new planet! Fantabulous! And, Patch,” he said shyly, “I’m sorry I said something stupid yesterday. I don’t know how to say things sometimes. You know, I’d do anything to help you.”

  I laughed in surprise. “Thanks, but I can take care of myself.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I hugged him to show we were still friends, but I wondered if I would ever again feel quite as comfortable with Archer.

  Gurin informed me the next day that the survey equipment was on its way and the midrange guns would be installed within two days. I handed him my supply list: fresh food, ration packs, medical supplies, recharged power modules, jump cells, cleaning and sanitation supplies, air and water filters, spare parts, cat food, and at Grim’s request, fresh entertainment programs. I even put in new clothes for the crew. When Kojo had looked over the list, he had added cargo drones and grenades. “May as well get what we can out of this,” he said.

  “So, six passengers, plus Sergeant Danto and the crew, to house and feed, and keep from fighting among themselves, going mad from boredom or killing themselves over the relic.”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  I bit my lip, thinking of the complications. “It breaks my heart, but we need to move the brandy out and start converting the holds to sleeping quarters.”

  “Keep the premium crates, the ones in the vault,” Kojo said. “And slip a crate into the wardroom.” He winked. “For emergencies.”

  I made an invoice for the brandy, showing Danto the current price on Palermo. He paid it without complaint—what would a Gav military man know about the difference between wholesale and retail prices?

  I split the down payment among the people we owed money to most urgently: the crew, our suppliers, our creditors. Archer danced from foot to foot and grinned from ear to ear, thrilled to get his back wages and a bonus. Our suppliers in Palermo would probably throw a party.

  I was so happy to pay off some of what we owed, I pulled Kojo into the wardroom to show him the accounts.

  “I know you don’t like looking at the books, but see, I was able to give something to all the suppliers who’ve been dunning us and pay down nearly a quarter of the debt to that bloodsucker Branson. With this job, we’ve turned a corner. Once we collect the rest of the installments for this voyage and make the delivery to Ordalo, we might get free of that loan shark.”

  “Good.”

  What was the matter with Kojo? He should have been delighted, full of I-told-you-so. Instead, he absently stroked Tinker curled on the foot of the bunk, earning a cat-glare of annoyance.

  “Kojo? In two months, we could be out of debt completely.”

  He didn’t meet my eyes. “That’s great. It’s just that, well, there’s something you should know.”

  My stomach sank. “About what?”

  “About the delivery to Ordalo.” He took a deep breath. “We’re not going to get paid for it.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Family reckoning

  I stared at Kojo like he’d gone mad. “Not get paid? What are you talking about?”

  Tinker, wide-eyed and ears alert at the tension in the wardroom, oozed off the bedding to slink under the bunk.

  “Look,” Kojo whispered, “it wasn’t my idea to take Ordalo’s job. It’s not the kind of thing I ever wanted us to get involved in. They had me over a barrel.”

  For a moment, I thought I’d misheard. “Had you over a barrel? But Papa…You mean it was you who made that deal?”

  He sighed wearily. “Grow up, Patch.”

  As if I was the one to blame for believing him. Ancestors, give me strength.

  I leaned into his face. “You were gambling.”

  “I swear, it was a sure thing. It would have paid off—it should have paid off, big time! I don’t know…”

  I slapped my hand on the table. “I don’t want to h
ear about it. Who?”

  “A Delfin nobody, but he was just a shill. He turned my marker over to the Cartel. Delivering the goods to Kriti is the price the Cartel wants. Once we deliver to Ordalo, the Cartel will discharge the debt. But there won’t be any payment.”

  I closed my eyes, crushed. All the risk of carrying the synthreactor, for nothing. “And if something goes wrong with the delivery?”

  “It won’t.”

  I got that sinking feeling in my stomach. “Kojo? Answer me.”

  His shoulders slumped. “They’ve got a mortgage on Sparrowhawk.”

  “You forged my imprint?” He must have. Just like he’d forged it on the charter on Santerro. “Damn you!”

  My teeth ground. He’d let the Cartel force us to transport something their own ships didn’t dare carry, under threat of taking away our home, our livelihood.

  “…And I’ll be indentured to Ordalo for three years.” He stared miserably at the deck.

  Indentured? Slavery by another name, even if it was only for a set time.

  I sat down on Hiram’s bunk, hard. I felt like we’d dropped into a black hole, nowhere to go but down. “How could you?”

  It came out a whisper.

  Kojo scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “I was suckered. You know how they work.”

  “So do you!”

  He dropped his head into his hands. “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. It was after Dad died, and we had to buy those coils and take that loan from Branson. I thought…Patch, I really believed I could win enough to get us free. Everything would have been so simple then.” He furrowed his brow, as if he was still unable to understand how things had gone wrong.

  “Damn you, Kojo! Damn you!” I backhanded my fist into Kojo’s chest hard enough to make him fall back against the locker.

  I felt like my head would burst. My brother indentured? Lose Sparrow? Spend the rest of my life planet-bound, watching all the other ships sail away?

  He rubbed his chest. “Don’t blame me! This is Dad’s fault.”

  “Papa?” I was shouting now. “How can you blame him?”

  Resentment filled his eyes. “I’m the one who’s wasted my life on this old bucket, rattling from one godforsaken port to another. Ever since I was nine years old. Twenty years! When you came aboard, just a scared little kid, I was already running Sparrow’s engines. I expected Dad to leave the ship to me. He was married to my mother. He should have left the ship to me. You—you’re just an accident from a loose week on Gavora.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face.

  My brother. Who had teased me, taught me, protected me from portside bullies, ragged me about my curls, bragged to others about my trading skills.

  “Oh, hell, Patch,” Kojo said more quietly. “I didn’t mean that last part. It’s just—look, I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I? When Dad died, I just assumed that he’d left the ship to me. I mean, you’re still so young…”

  He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “When I made that bet, I was trying to help, to get us out of debt. I figured, if worse came to worse, I could cover the bet by selling Sparrow. I could have squared everything and we’d be free to take off on our own. Stop being tied down by this old hulk.”

  “Old hulk.” He might have been speaking some unknown language. Sparrow was home and family, and Papa’s pride.

  “But then,” Kojo said, “he only left me half the business, and you wouldn’t sell, and the interest on the money I owed added up.”

  His fury gone, he gave me that open-and-honest look, the look I had long ago learned to distrust. Let me borrow a few sovereigns, Patch. Just this once, Patch. I’ll pay you back tomorrow, Patch. So earnest, so plausible, so charming.

  “But it’ll be all right. Once we make the delivery to Ordalo, they’ll consider the debt paid and everything will be fine. And this charter—it’s a chance for us to make enough money to get back on course.”

  His eyes had that hopeful expression, the one that said this roll of the dice is sure to be a winner.

  “Papa loved me,” I said.

  He looked away. “I know he did. I didn’t mean what I said.”

  “He came back for me, when I was old enough.”

  “Yeah, I get it. He loved you. We’re a family. I just thought he would trust me to take care of you.”

  “He wasn’t that big a fool!”

  I took Kojo by the shoulders and made him face me. “You can’t keep gambling like this, Kojo. Promise me. Promise you’ll stop.”

  “I swear, Patch! Honest, I promise. Never again.”

  But his eyes slid away. I knew he wouldn’t keep that promise.

  Kojo. Good captain, lousy business partner.

  I balled up a fist and pounded it against the bulkhead.

  “How could you?” I whispered. “Risk the ship? And your freedom?”

  All his talk about wanting to join the Cartel—just a smoke screen for when he’d be forced to work for some smuggler out on the fringe, for nothing more than a bunk and two meals a day.

  Kojo didn’t answer, didn’t look at me.

  That wasn’t like him. No argument? No endless train of excuses?

  I eyed him, my mind filled with suspicion. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Spit it out.”

  Then I knew, and I was overwhelmed with shame and despair.

  I grabbed his jacket, forcing him to look at me. “Me, too. Is that it, Kojo? Did you indenture me to them, too?”

  He avoided my eyes. “That part’s probably not legally binding.”

  I slammed my fist against the locker. “It will be in Selkid space! Selkids indenture their sisters and daughters all the time!”

  I saw myself working for some fat Selkid, run off my feet to do the lowest kind of work, mouth shut, eyes down.

  A slave. Again.

  I felt sick.

  Kojo’s eyes widened as he caught the panic in my face.

  “It’ll be all right, Patch. I promise. It’s simple. We have fifty-two days left to make the delivery. Once that’s done, everything will be fine.”

  “Liar.” I shoved him back into the bunk. “Cheating, thieving, burzing liar.”

  I balled up my fist and punched it into the bulkhead hard enough to make the lockers rattle.

  It hurt. I did it again.

  Hiram opened the door, just enough to sidle in. “That guard wants to know why you’re shifting bulkheads.”

  Tinker saw her chance and streaked out from under the bunk, through the door in an orange-and-white flash.

  “Practicing featherball,” Kojo said. He jerked his head sideways in a scram motion. Hiram looked from him to me.

  Through gritted teeth, I said, “It’s fine.”

  Hiram nodded once and ducked out again.

  “Does Hiram know?” I asked.

  Kojo looked away. Of course Hiram knew. Kojo would have needed his help to stow the synthreactor. Hiram would never have believed that Papa had agreed to carry it and not told him.

  All that crap about getting old and taking a Cartel berth—I should have known there was more to it.

  “Patch—”

  “Shut up.”

  I leaned on the bulkhead, facing the blank wall, not wanting to see Kojo, not wanting to hear him. The damn fool. The stupid, reckless damn fool. Of course, Papa hadn’t left the ship to him alone—Papa knew Kojo’s weaknesses as well as anyone.

  Through gritted teeth, I said, “This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to sit down, right now, and sign a confession about the forgeries, saying I didn’t know anything about the synthreactor.”

  “Patch…”

  “And you’ll execute a deed of transfer. Your share of the ship and the business and all its assets—as of today they belong to me.”

  His mouth dropped open. “That’s my inheritance! Besides, it won’t help. The Cartel’s already filed the mortgage.”

  “It’ll help after we make the delivery and the debt is discharged. I need t
o be sure you can never get us into this situation again.” I leaned into his face. “Do it, Kojo.”

  He put on his stubborn face. “Not a chance! Dad left half the ship to me.”

  “And you squandered it on a bet.” I scarcely recognized my own voice, it came out so scathingly cold. “Do you know what I can do to you for forging my imprint? For executing an indenture contract over me? Any Terran court would jail you for ten years!”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Why not? You made me a slave.”

  “Patch, I didn’t…” His face grayed as he saw the full determination in my face.

  Quietly, he said, “It won’t come to that. I wouldn’t have signed the indentures if I wasn’t sure. Hiram knows Kriti, he and Dad used to sail in that sector. I even went with them once, when I was a kid. We’ll make the delivery and everything will be fine.”

  “We’ll make the delivery,” I agreed. “In my ship. You can be captain and share the profits, but as a hired hand. I’ll own the ship and the business.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  I loomed over him, staring him in the eyes. “You’ve never been a slave. You don’t know. I would do anything, anything to keep from being put in that position again. Including turning you in and letting you pay the price for what you’ve done. From now on, you’ll have to trust me.”

  After Kojo imprinted the contracts, I went to my cabin to get myself under control.

  Kojo. He’d pushed hard after Papa’s passing, to sell Sparrow. And it was only after I’d refused that he’d showed me the synthreactor and told me of Papa’s promise to Ordalo.

  Kojo. Of course he was willing to take on a lucrative, risky job to head into the Gloom to hunt for a mythical planet—he had nothing left to lose.

  Kojo. It wasn’t just me he’d betrayed. Hiram and even Archer shared the risk of carrying the synthreactor, for no payoff. And if we failed and lost Sparrow, what would happen to them?

  Kojo. He was my brother—half-brother anyway—raised by the same father. Even setting aside this mess, how could he see things so differently? To be so ready to sell our ship? Give up being ship’s captain and settle for being just another pilot?