Dansby shrugged. “They may, which is why Eades provides me with just enough true information to keep them guessing.” He grinned at her. “It’s a deep game we play when leaping into this particular rabbit hole, Carew. We can only hope it’s our side who owns the bottom.”
His words didn’t put her any more at ease, as she was still not convinced that Dansby’s side was the same as hers.
Twenty-Five
Röslein née Marilyn finally arrived at Baikonur. The system itself was remarkable only in that it had no remaining planets whatsoever, just a series of asteroid belts, as though some long-ago cataclysm had shattered every planet that formed.
Those asteroids, though, were remarkable in that they contained a great deal of gallenium, and so Hanoverese miners flocked to the system in a rush to extract the wealth.
The system’s only station was a hodgepodge of traditional station modules cobbled together with the remains of ships that were too decrepit ever to risk darkspace again, yet solid enough that they could be used as habitats instead of being sent to the breakers.
That they were being used this way was a further testament to the gallenium ore in the system. Despite those hulls having valuable gallenium embedded in them, they were being used as habitats in normal space instead of being broken up for scrap. In Baikonur, it was easier and cheaper to mine fresh ore than to melt down an otherwise useless ship.
One entire section of the station seemed to be made up of nothing but a large loop of station corridor, with decrepit ships permanently filling the inside of the loop and temporary docking for visiting merchants along the outer edge.
Dansby docked Röslein along this stretch, as the place he’d meet his contacts was deep in the middle.
Alexis followed him through the maze of interconnecting corridors and ships.
“I’ve brought you along with me at your insistence, niece, but you simply can’t join me at the table.”
“I’d only like to hear for myself.”
“And this sort of man won’t speak with someone he doesn’t know at the table. Especially a stranger with too much English in her German. Most of those on station won’t care — this is the sort of place in Hanover that someone fleeing New London for a misunderstanding would head for. The Hanoverese authorities care about nothing here, save that there’s no gallenium smuggled out. But this particular man takes more care than most.”
“‘Fleeing a misunderstanding’?”
“Discretion being the better part of not being hanged, yes.”
“Such wonderful places you take me to, uncle.”
They left the main corridor into the maze of interconnected ships’ hulls that made up the center. Some were stitched together with more sections of station corridor, while others had their hulls and locks welded directly to the next, and still others had lengths of flimsy ship’s boarding tubes stretched between them.
“Perhaps I should have worn my vacsuit,” Alexis murmured.
“You’d look too out of place,” Dansby answered. “Risk assessment is not amongst these men’s more prominent traits.” He grinned at her. “Else they’d not have had those misunderstandings to flee from.”
They entered a long length of station corridor that stretched between two hulls, with other hulls to either side. It appeared the corridor had become the dumping ground for all those connected to it, with stacks of shipping crates and piles of refuse strewn about. There was barely enough room to walk side by side between the refuse and only a few places where they could see the corridor’s bulkheads at all.
“Here,” Dansby said, gesturing to the next alcove in the trash and crates. This one led to a hatch, behind which was a mid-sized merchant hull turned into some sort of pub. The messdeck, on which they entered, was a large common room, full of tables and bustling with activity. The servers were human, not automated, and based on the girl who set down her tray of drinks, grasped a miner’s hand, and led him laughing to the aft companionway, both they and the deck above were available for more than simply food and drink.
Dansby led her to an empty table, gestured for a server, ordered wine for the both of them, and waited until they’d been served before speaking again.
“I see my man in the back — and, no, I won’t point him out to you. Don’t go looking, either, and don’t stare when I go to meet him. I’ll tell you all he tells me as soon as I return.”
Alexis drained her glass. She’d grown more and more nervous the farther they went into Hanoverese space. With every throw of the ship’s log, her growing dependency on Dansby had gnawed at her. That he’d done nothing untoward failed to ease her fears. After such a long time aboard ship with him, she suspected he had a bit of integrity, at least that he’d like to think so, and that he’d stick with the job he’d been paid to do so long as he could. It was what circumstances might convince him he could no longer fulfill the terms of his contract that concerned her. She’d be far more comfortable if she heard for herself what their destination might be.
Dansby leaned close and whispered to her, as though having read her thoughts. “I’ve never failed Eades in a task, Carew, and I’d not want to learn what might happen were I to do so.”
Alexis studied his face. She found trusting hard enough when the recipient was worthy. She forced her jaw muscles to relax.
“Very well.”
Dansby grunted and rose. He left, walked to the other table, and sat, making no show of greeting. Soon he was bent over head close to the other man, whispering. Alexis watched them for a moment, but realized her scrutiny would only draw attention to Dansby as others wondered what she found so interesting. She forced herself to look away, not wanting to draw too much attention to Dansby’s meeting. She poured herself another glass of wine and scanned the rest of the pub.
Dansby had described Baikonur as a vile hub of smugglers and piracy, and the pub, from what Alexis could see, was the worst of the lot. Looking around, she thought he hadn’t gone nearly far enough in his description.
The clientele made her want to spin around in circles so as to never allow any of them at her back for too long, and she found, as she looked around, that the other patrons were as aware of her gaze as she was of theirs. One in particular seemed to raise his eyes to meet her whenever her gaze moved in his direction — or eye, rather, as he sat in profile to her. She could only see half of his face, and that so scarred and disfigured that she found the sight uncomfortable.
“Kann ich dich begleiten?”
Alexis spun her gaze around and found a man standing at her table. He smiled and repeated himself, but Alexis had no idea what he’d said. For a moment, she panicked at how to respond, but then remembered Dansby’s assurances that Baikonur was so near the border and had so varied a clientele that English would not seem suspicious here.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” she said.
The man smiled broader. “Ah, English.” He pointed at the chair across from her. “I to sit?”
Alexis frowned. “You want to borrow the chair?”
The man shook his head, laughing. “Nein.” He pointed at her then at the chair. “Pretty girl. I to sit?”
Alexis glanced around. Dansby was still hunched over the table talking to the man he’d come to meet. The disfigured man glanced away again as her gaze passed over him and a chill went through her for some reason. She looked back at the man by her table.
“You want to join me?”
The man smiled. “Very pretty.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But no.” She tried a tentative smile so as not to offend him.
The man frowned. “So alone. Pretty girl should not be alone.”
Alexis took a deep breath. “I …”
Is it so inconceivable that I should be at a table alone?
She glanced around again. The man was keeping her from seeing what Dansby was doing, but she still didn’t want to be rude.
“I’m waiting for someone,” she said finally.
“Ah,”
the man nodded and walked away.
Alexis frowned. She wondered if this sort of thing was common. She’d never encountered it before, but she’d never really gone anywhere on leave except in her uniforms. She shook her head.
As though I couldn’t possibly stand being alone, but so long as I’m claimed by another …
She glanced around again and saw the disfigured man staring at her again. She found her own eyes drawn to him as well. There was something about him — she frowned. Was it a familiarity?
As her eyes passed over him again, he raised a glass to his lips and Alexis saw that it was not only his face that was disfigured. His arm had been replaced by a crude prosthetic. It moved well enough for him to grasp his glass, but its covering lacked the more lifelike hue she’d expect even from one made on her homeworld or printed aboard ship.
Perhaps Baikonur lacked the facilities to manufacture better, but the clientele of this pub were supposedly spacers, who’d travel widely and surely make stops where he could receive better care.
She started to avoid looking at him directly, but he still drew her attention. She kept her eyes always to the side, but tried to keep him in sight. Then the man turned, stared at her fully for a moment, revealing the undamaged side of his face, then rose and walked toward the back of the pub.
Alexis stayed where she was, jaw clenched in sudden recognition from the moment’s glimpse of the unscarred half of the man’s face. He was familiar for a reason, but she couldn’t believe it was him. Had, in fact, spent the years since their last meeting certain that she’d killed him.
Twenty-Six
Daviel Coalson, alive and here, and sure as certain he’s recognized me as well.
The last time that she’d seen Coalson had been on the signals console of her first ship, Merlin. Captain Grantham had left her in command of the ship and a skeleton crew while he assaulted the illegal gallenium mining operation Coalson ran, in addition to the piracy and smuggling Grantham had begun investigating him for.
Coalson had fled in a ship’s boat and Alexis had pursued in Merlin. He’d been on his way to reaching a ship and escaping when she’d ordered a full broadside fired into his boat. He’d dropped something in Merlin’s path, though. She suspected it was a nuclear mining charge of some sort. Merlin had come close to being destroyed, it was only her order to roll ship and take the blast on the ship’s heavy keel that had saved them, and it had taken some time to repair the damage. By the time they’d been able to search, the other ship had fled and the wreckage of the boat had drifted and dispersed so greatly that they’d been unable to recover it all.
A voice spoke near her and she spun around, startled. A man was standing near her table, smiling expectantly. Not the same one as before. He spoke again, but so rapidly that Alexis couldn’t follow what he said at all.
“What?”
He spoke again, slower, but still smiling and pointed to the chair.
Oh, for the love of …
“No,” she said.
The man sat.
“I meant, ‘No, you may not join me,’ not, ‘No, the seat’s not taken,’ or whatever it is you were asking.”
The man smiled.
“You can’t understand a bloody word I’m saying, can you?”
The man nodded and smiled wider.
“And yet, you’re still sitting at my table …”
Alexis looked around hoping to catch Dansby’s eye or catch some sight of Coalson at the rear of the pub so that she’d at least know where he was.
The man at her table said something and reached across the table to take her left hand in both of his. He stared at her intently and said … something.
“I’m certain that was quite complimentary and I’d be incredibly flattered … if I understood a bloody word of it. But I didn’t and I’m not and I’m busy —” She waved her free hand at him in a go away gesture. “So would you please bugger off then?”
The man laughed and ran his fingers over her palm in a way that made her want to rush off to the head and wash herself.
Alexis ground her teeth together. She took a deep breath, started to say something more, then shook her head.
“No,” she muttered, “I’ve had quite enough of this.”
With her free hand she pulled one of the blades Dansby had bought her from her left sleeve and held it up in front of her. The man froze and his eyes widened. She waved the tip of the blade back and forth.
“Look, you, this knife?” She pointed it through the table in the general direction of the man’s lap. “Your bollocks.” She flicked her wrist in a cutting motion, then raised her eyebrows. “Savvy that, at least, do you?”
The man released her hand and stood up, then took a step back from the table. He scowled at her and squared his shoulders, then muttered the first word she understood before walking away.
“Bitch.”
Good lord, even with a whole other language at his disposal that’s the still best he can come up with?
Alexis watched him go, then slid her knife back into its sheath. She glanced around, but no one else in the pub seemed to have noticed the exchange. Either that or such things were so common that the clientele paid no heed.
She turned in her chair so that she could see the table the man she thought was Coalson had been at. How could it be him? Coalson’s body was never found, but they’d always assumed that he was among the dead.
His boat took a full broadside. It was shredded to bits and I think the fusion plant must have gone as well.
But he wasn’t dead. She was certain it had been him at that table. He was here on Baikonur and he’d recognized her as surely as she’d recognized him.
She looked over to Dansby, willing him to finish so that they could leave or at least to look at her so that she could communicate some sense of urgency. Whatever Coalson would do, having recognized her, would not be to her benefit, and she wanted nothing more than to reboard Röslein and be gone from Baikonur entirely.
She almost cried out with relief when Dansby rose and gestured for her to follow him. They left the pub and she waited until they were some distance down the corridor before she grasped Dansby’s arm.
“We must speak. Quickly.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ve learned when we reach Röslein. Patience, niece.”
“No, damn your eyes, this is a different matter!”
“What —”
Dansby’s head jerked sharply to look down the corridor, then he shoved her to the side into a pile of trash between stacks of crates and leapt backward himself. As quickly as he moved there was a loud crack and shouts.
“Four of them!” Dansby yelled. “To either side, maybe more.” He already had his weapons drawn. Chemical pistol in one hand and laser in the other.
Alexis drew her own pistol as more cracks sounded and the crates around her shook. She had her flechette pistol in its hidden holster as well, but didn’t think those tiny darts would be of much use with all the cover in the corridor. Dansby raised a hand above the crates he was sheltering behind and fired off two quick shots, then fired the laser in the opposite direction. More shots struck the crates.
“Fire back at them, damn you!”
Alexis, eyes wide and not quite believing that she was being shot at on a station, leaned around the edge of the crate to find a target. She managed a quick glimpse of two men, behind crates themselves, farther down the corridor, before seeing them adjust their aim toward her and ducking back.
“Don’t look to aim, just bloody shoot!” Dansby yelled at her. He had his tablet in hand and began speaking into it rapidly while trying to fit a new capacitor into his laser with the other.
“What if someone comes out a hatchway?” she demanded, thinking of the crowded pub and not wanting to shoot an innocent by mistake.
“No one’ll come to investigate this nonsense!” Dansby yelled at her, firing again. “And if they’re foolish enough to do so they deserve to be shot!”
Alexis did as he sa
id, simply pointing her pistol over the crates and firing twice rapidly, then doing the same in the other direction.
“I’ve no quarrel with you, sir!” a voice called. “It’s that bitch, Carew, I want!”
Alexis recognized the voice now too, and no doubt it was Coalson. How he was here, how he was even alive, she didn’t know, but it was him.
Dansby looked at her across the corridor, his mouth open with astonishment.
“I left you alone for ten bloody minutes!” More shots rang out and Alexis and Dansby returned fire. “What did you do?”
“Send her out!” Coalson yelled. “Or throw out your arms and I’ll let you walk free!”
“Run, whoever you are!” Dansby called back. “And you might live out the day!”
He fired his laser again and was rewarded with a cry of pain from down the corridor. He turned to Alexis with a wide, feral grin as he slammed a new capacitor into the laser’s grip.
“Worth every bloody pence.”
“Can’t have many more charges for that!” Coalson called.
More shots struck the crates near them. Alexis flinched as the impact knocked the crate above her off the stack and she had to bat it away as it fell.
“It’s only a matter of time!”
“How many magazines do you have?” Dansby whispered.
Alexis did a quick pat of her pockets and boottops to ensure she had all she thought she did. “Six and what’s left in the pistol.”
Dansby blinked and shook his head. “Don’t believe in going half-prepared, do you? Never mind.” He glanced around the crates quickly and ducked back as more shots were fired. “What’s left in your pistol that way,” he said, pointing. “On three and reload quick.”
Alexis nodded.
“One. Two. Three.”
They both stood fired rapidly over the crates, Alexis one direction and Dansby the other. Alexis ducked back down as the slide on her pistol locked back and reloaded, but Dansby ducked down and then stood again. Laser one direction and pistol the other, he fired both, then dropped and quickly reloaded.
Alexis Carew: Books 1, 2, and 3 Page 73