“No pay,” Mac Braith said. “Your pay’s going to this ship’s debt. But I’ll give you a tenth share—point-one share—in any bonus payouts.”
From any other ships taken like this. Still, it would mean that they wouldn’t be dumped on Nelson’s Keep without any cash to their name. And they wouldn’t have to depend on Broad Increase turning up to rescue them. He nodded slowly. “All right. I’m willing.”
“I suppose I am,” Escarrey said, and Farren bar Genrys nodded as well.
“Done,” Mac Braith said, and turned away.
Canalda babbled something that might have been thanks but certainly wasn’t a promise of recompense. Imric ignored him, his eyes fixed on Llian, who smiled coolly at him.
“The team will escort each of you to your cabin to collect your belongings. Behave sensibly and you won’t regret your choices.” Her smile widened as she looked directly at Imric. “You might even come to like it.”
1.02 Between Planets
On her way to breakfast, Nalani saw a man leaning against a door, sobbing.
He was young, mid-thirties she estimated, with olive skin and dark, wavy hair that had gone a few weeks since its last styling. His clothes were plain, dark tunic and kilt, both worn but clean enough. He sagged against the door, one hand half-hiding his face.
At the man’s feet, a little girl clung to his kilt, hair mussed and cheeks streaked with tears. Nalani guessed that she was no older than five.
In spite of herself, Nalani sighed. It had been a long night. She never slept well on multi-planar ships, and after less than a day aboard she knew that this was going to be a rough voyage. All that got her through the night and up this morning was the thought of hot coffee and unlimited breakfast bar in the Zephyr lounge.
Well, it looked like breakfast would have to wait.
When she came close enough, she heard the man pleading in a ragged whisper, “Dav, you must reach higher. You can do it.”
Nalani cleared her throat. “Can I help at all?”
The man spun, startled. “Oh.” He looked her up and down. “I’m sorry, Sen. My little boy’s in there. Th-the door snapped shut, and he can’t reach the plate to open it.” His accent, although faint, was Second Plane. “I don’t know why it won’t open for me.”
Nalani gave a soft smile. “Lavatories are like that. It’s a one-person facility, and it knows it’s occupied.” She allowed her brows to contract the slightest bit. “It should recognize you as the lad’s parent, though.”
He lowered his eyes. “Sen, I don’t know that we’re exactly...registered with the ship’s systems. At least, not on the upper levels.”
She nodded. Refugee, then. “I understand. That’s why you haven’t called for crew help.”
He looked up. “I j-just wanted my children to be clean and feel safe. You don’t know what it’s like on the lower decks.”
Before Nalani could answer that she did, in fact, know what it was like—had traveled on those decks more times than she cared to remember—they were interrupted by a scream from beyond the door, a shriek of distress that clutched at her heart. Inside, the little boy wailed in a voice that would credit an opera diva.
That set off the girl. At once Nalani crouched down, took the girl’s hands and looked right into her eyes. “Don’t cry. Dav’s going to be all right.” The girl stopped crying. “Good,” Nalani said. “What’s your name?”
“Zofia.”
“Zofia, I want you to tell Dav everything is okay. I figure he’ll listen to you. Can you do that for me?”
Zofia nodded and, with a sniff, turned to the door. “Dav. Dav, shut up! A nice grownup is here to help. Stop crying.”
It worked; Dav’s noise stopped. Nalani figured she had about thirty seconds before he started again.
She stood, pushed back her left sleeve, and tapped the bronze cuff on her forearm. Her codex answered at once through her neural link, its voice soft but insistent. (“Yes, Nalani?”)
(“Tell me what you know.”)
(“All is as he says. They’re on the ship’s manifest as refugees, came aboard on the Second Plane 108 days ago. You’re picking up strays again, aren’t you?”)
Nalani ignored the taunt. (“Well, open the door, then. And without alerting the crew, thank you.”)
The door snapped open and a small boy tumbled out, shin-high and with a mass of dark curls. His father fell to his knees and gathered the child in a tight hug. He looked up at Nalani. “Thank you, Sen. H-how did you...?” She saw his eyes dart from her arm cuff to the fine iridescent tracery that ran up her left arm, then to the insignia pendant around her neck. He jerked to his feet. “Your Honor, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
She offered her most comforting smile and her hand. “No offense. Professionally I’m Thurgood IX, but socially it’s Nalani.”
He blushed and shook her hand. “Milos Savoie. This is Zofia and Dav. But you knew that. I’m sorry.”
Her codex had already dredged up all the ship’s information on Milos and his family, feeding it into her short-term memory in a steady stream. No need to let him know that. “After such an ordeal, I hope you and the children will be my guests for breakfast.”
He looked down. “Your Honor, we couldn’t.”
“You’re not going to make me order you?” She winked at Zofia, who hung on every word. “My orders have the force of law, you know. And I’ve experienced ship’s rations; you must be ready for a real meal.”
He met her eyes, as she knew he would, relief on his features. “Thank you.”
Coffee and food calmed Nalani, although an incipient headache still hovered just above her temples. Watching the gusto with which the children attacked the food bar, on multiple trips, brought a smile to her face.
Milos Savoie, however, didn’t even fill his plate. He picked at his food and ate like an automaton, face blank and eyes glazed.
(“Tell the Purser I want to see him,”) she told her codex. Then she leaned forward, resting her chin on one hand. “Tell me about yourself, Milos. How did you get...here?”
He shrugged. “I’m a data archaeologist. That is, I was, until the pirates came.” He looked up at her. “My family had a data business on a Second Plane settlement called Kuala Domal. We thought we were in a safe zone. Turns out it wasn’t so safe.” He took a breath. “I g-got away with Zofia and Dav. The others didn’t make it.”
“I’m so sorry.” She shook her head. “So that’s how you came to be aboard the Iridium Azimuth?”
“We had nothing left. Not even money, the pirates jacked our accounts. We got on board, and barely made it through the pirate blockade to drop to the First Plane.” He wrinkled his nose. “It was a long drop. More than a hundred days.”
Their table was on a balcony overlooking Iridium Azimuth’s passenger decks. Cabins lined the faces of the great pyramidal space, with the vast open interior ringed by balconies. Below the pyramid’s base was another, inverted pyramid—crew spaces, cargo holds, and the great multi-planar hyperdrive engines that propelled the vessel.
Nalani followed Milos’s gaze. Twenty floors below, at the base of the pyramid, were the decks reserved for refugees: a broad expanse of flimsy cots and chairs, blankets hung as makeshift walls, and everywhere bodies clothed in rags and tatters. At least they were far enough up that she couldn’t make out the despairing faces.
Milos whispered, “They kept telling us there weren’t enough supplies, that food was running out. Rations got smaller.” He closed his eyes. “Some people stole what others had. I made the kids eat what we got right away, all of it, because I didn’t want to take a chance on losing food.” He opened his eyes and they met hers. “I-I don’t know how I can thank you for your kindness. It means so much....”
She rested one hand atop his. “Well, you could try to eat a little more yourself.”
“Habit. I’m so used to eating less so they could—” He choked and looked away.
(“The Purser,”) her codex alerted her. (“XUA Ghazan
bar Huisak Sanxing, goes by Ghazan bar Huizak. Sixteen years in current position, record fine but undistinguished. A safe by-the-regs bureaucrat.”)
(“So I’ll just have to shake him up a bit. Be ready to locate the Captain if I need to go over his head.”) She stood just in time to greet bar Huisak, a dour round-faced man with a regulation mustache and long goatee. A data monocle clung to his left eye.
The Purser bowed. “I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, Supreme Justice.”
Nalani matched his bow. “The pleasure is entirely mine, Sen bar Huisak. Thank you for making time to speak with me.” She gestured to Milos, who sat open-mouthed and frozen to his chair. “My associate, Milos Savoie. Milos, Purser bar Huisak.” She took her seat; the Purser settled into a waiting chair.
“Supreme Justice Thurgood, I am ecstatic to be able to be of assistance. What service can this humble one provide you?”
“I’ve become aware that—through no possible fault of your department, of course—there has been an irregularity involving Sen Savoie’s passage, as well as that of his children.” She forced a barely-audible chuckle. “They’re listed as refugees, can you imagine that?”
Bar Huisak mimed distress. “Unsupportable. Simply unsupportable. Your Honor, the fault is most certainly mine. Such a grave blunder can never be undone nor forgiven. How can I make proper redress?”
“Nonsense, I’m sure the misunderstanding was mine. However, I might be able to salvage some of my self-esteem if Sen Savoie and his family were moved to a cabin on one of the Fifth Plane decks—and, of course, given full access to all facilities. Any adjustments will naturally be charged to my account.”
Bar Huizak shook his head. “I wouldn’t hear of it. Since it was my mistake, there will be no charges.” He paused a moment, his throat muscles moving as he subvocalized orders. Then he turned to Milos with a tight smile. “Sen Savoie, cabin 1832 has been keyed to your biocodes. If you need any service, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
(“He plays the game well,”) Nalani thought to her codex. (“He’s a pussycat.”)
(“No, he’s scared to death of offending a Supreme Justice.”)
(“I like my interpretation better.”)
Bar Huisak turned back to Nalani. “I’m happy that this unpleasantness is behind us. Your Honor, how else can I be of service?”
She leaned back, looking over the balcony. “There is one other small thing, but I hesitate to bring it up.”
“Don’t hesitate a moment. Your smallest wish is my command.”
She locked eyes with him. “I understand that the last drop was very difficult on the refugees. I would appreciate it—as a personal favor, one might say—if someone could make their lives a little easier. Extra rations, access to facilities on higher decks, more provision for privacy and security, that sort of thing.”
He drew back half a millimeter. “Your Honor, I assure you that we’ve complied with all the relevant conventions...I don’t see how we could possibly—”
“Sen bar Huizak, I was so hoping I wouldn’t need to bother Captain Turan with—”
He cleared his throat. “No, there’s no need for that. I,” he swallowed, “I will make the arrangements. But if this drop proves to be as long as the last...” He spread his hands.
“It won’t.” She massaged her temples. “Don’t you feel it? This is an intense one. The short ones always are.”
He nodded. “Such is the superstition among the crew. One can never be sure. How can I assist you further, Your Honor?”
“You’ve answered my every concern. I don’t know how I can repay you.” (“Other than not starting an investigation of your handling of refugees, I mean.”)
He rose and bowed deeply. “The pleasure is all mine. Now I regret that the press of business calls me away. But if I can do anything else for you, anything at all, I am at your call.” He spun on a heel and walked off, not looking back.
Milos stared after him. “I can’t believe you did that. I-I can’t ever thank you enough.”
“When the time comes, you can help someone else in need. That’s all the thanks necessary.” Zofia and Dav approached, their faces smeared with detritus from the sweets cart. “You’ll want to get them settled in your new cabin. I have some work to do, then I’m going to take a swim. Perhaps you and the children will join me, about thirteen o’clock?”
He stood and executed a bow deeper than the one bar Huizak gave. “It will be my pleasure, Your Honor.”
She laughed. “For that, you’re going to get the splashing of a lifetime.” She gave Zofia and Dav both a hug. “Off with you, then, all of you.”
Nalani and Milos fell into the habit of meeting for breakfast at their usual table. The children went off to crèche-care, and the adults lingered over coffee, sometimes for hours.
On the third morning, Milos raised the question Nalani was waiting for. “When the drop ends, I guess you’ll be leaving the ship?”
“Yes, I will. I have business on the Fifth Plane.”
“Nalani, what do you think I should do?”
She took a sip. “I don’t usually give personal advice.” His face fell, and she added, “In this case I’m willing to make an exception. If you’re asking whether I think you should disembark on Fifth and find a place to settle—then yes, I do. You’re more likely to find work there than on Fourth or Third.”
“Some of the other refugees are talking about staying on until the Third Plane, then starting over as settlers on colony worlds.”
Nalani shook her head. “That’s a hard life. New colonies aren’t launched every day. Most settlers start out indentured. It can take many years to work off the debt.” She took a bite from a sweet, delicate pastry. “And I’ve never known a settler who didn’t fill every week with ten days of relentless labor.” She smiled. “You can do better than that.”
“Finding work on a strange Plane isn’t going to be easy.”
“Here.” She dropped a data stub on the table. “There’s a letter of introduction, that should get you an interview at any data firm on the Plane. I’m also giving you letters of credit, drawn on my personal accounts. I don’t want those children to starve while you’re deciding which position to take.”
“Nalani, I couldn’t...you’ve done so much already.”
“You can and you will. I’m also giving you a comm code. As long as we’re on the same Plane, you can reach me with that code. Use it if you need me.” She met his eyes. “I’ll also expect you to keep me updated on your situation and codes.”
“How long will you be on the Fifth Plane?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll promise you this: I won’t depart until I’m sure that you’re settled safely.”
“I don’t know what to say, except thank you.”
She smiled. “That’s more than enough.”
Back in her cabin, Nalani tapped her codex. (“When we arrive on the Fifth Plane, message Milos’s ID to the relevant Refugee agencies. Tell them I want him settled quickly and efficiently.”)
Her codex responded, (“So it is written, so it shall be done.”)
(“Oh shut up.”)
Two hours later, as she was just beginning to contemplate lunch, her headache spiked, her stomach knotted -- then just as quickly it all faded and she felt fine. The subsequent announcement that the ship had emerged on the Fifth Plane came as no surprise. Nalani had always been sensitive to the ineffable discord of hyperspace between the Planes; it seemed to bother her more the older she got.
(“I want to get to Polo Halau as soon as possible.”)
(“I’m negotiating.”) A multi-planar ship’s arrival was always known instantly throughout the Plane; limited hypercomm channels were usually swamped within seconds. And although Nalani’s codex could transmit on one of the reserved Judiciary channels, replies had to come via public channels. Until intraplanar ships drew close enough for radio, communications would be slow.
(“I’ll leave you to it. Let me know the instant you h
ave a booking.”)
(“There are terabytes of judiciary updates available. I wish you’d let me integrate them.”)
(“You synched with the central codices before we left. You’re the most up-to-date codex on this Plane.”)
(“But I feel outdated.”) The machine seemed almost to whine.
(“You’ll live. Where’s Milos?”)
(“In his cabin with Zofia and Dav.”)
(“Tell him I’m coming down there.”) She threw her few possessions into her floatbag and signaled for it to follow her and not get in the way. At the door she paused, surveying the cabin. If only for a few days, it was an entirely comfortable home. Of all the multi-planar ships, Iridium Azimuth was one of her favorites.
Zofia hugged Nalani, burying her face in Nalani’s shoulder. “I’ll miss you,” she sniffed.
“I’ll miss you too, hon. Take care of Dav and your Daddy for me, will you?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Dav gave her a dignified bow followed by a most un-dignified hug. She squeezed him tight. “Be careful with those lavatory doors now.”
“I will.”
Milos tried to get away with a formal bow, but Nalani pulled him into a quick embrace. “You know what you’re going to do?”
He nodded. “We’ll stay aboard until 5GSL3. That’s where Themis refugees are to be processed. They said it’ll be less than a week.”
“Remember to stay in touch.”
(“A clipper’s ready to take you to Polo Halau. Departing in twenty minutes”)
“I have to go. Best of luck to you all.” A last bow, and she left.
Dilma á Juliano Ramos was usually grateful for an excuse to leave her office, but not this time. Artur Herrera's workshop was clear across town, and reeked of pungent chemical mixtures that would stay in her hair and clothes the rest of the day. And while Artur was a pleasant enough fellow on the phone, face-to-face meetings unsettled her.
The Rule of Five_Year One Page 3