Wynne felt the 'dots'. She'd forgotten they were there. "I won't be alone. I'll have Mohawk with me. With all that wealth walking around, there are bound to be peacekeepers, right? I'll explain it to them."
Ish tugged on Wynne's sleeve to steer her down another alley. How Ish knew one alley from the next was a mystery. They all looked the same to Wynne and none of them were marked. Twice, she thought they passed the same building they'd passed a few minutes before.
"Which peacekeepers are those? The honest ones who'll be more interested in finding the criminal Tor and his crew, or the ones like Yatos who get paid to protect men like Honarie? No, you stupid woman, we're going to Imperial City to get your Brides and probably get ourselves killed doing it."
"Why didn't he tell me? Last night when we made..." She was grateful for the shawl that hid her blush. "He made it seem like we were saying goodbye."
"Was that enough to keep for your memories, Kushma?" Tor had asked when they were finally too spent to move. She thought he'd meant it would be the last time.
"For a lifetime," she'd answered and saved her tears until she heard the steady breathing of his sleep.
Ish interrupted her thoughts of Tor and their lack of a future.
"Tor never said we wouldn't do it. He only said it wasn't in the plan, the current plan. If he wasn't going to do it, you and Mohawk would be on the space station shuttle no matter how much you whined."
"I don't whine," Wynne objected. That was one weakness she wouldn't own.
"No, you wiggle your tits and ass."
The use of the same words as her sister made Wynne laugh. "Jealous?" she asked in the same way she would have answered Mira. Remembering Ish's marital problem, she immediately regretted it.
"Yes," Ish admitted. "But not of your tits or ass."
"I'm sorry, Ish."
"There you go being weak again. Where's that knife Mohawk gave you?"
For the rest of their journey through the back streets of Celos, Ish talked about the value of the knives and how to use them.
When they finally wove their way through Till's debris field and reached their destination, they were met by Truca, climbing from an opening at the top of the giant ship.
"The loading bay ramps are still buried. You'll have to enter up here."
'Up here' was at least fifty feet off the ground, probably more once the ship was completely unearthed. Shaped like a monstrously deformed bird, the body was feathered with mismatched metal in varying shades that only looked black from a distance. At the head of the thick and slightly arched neck was the head though a wide, flat surface replaced the forehead, eyes, and beak. Two stubby wings holding what Wynne thought might be barrel shaped engines stuck out from the fat, misshapen body. The tail of the bird looked like a stunted growth jutting out from behind the wings.
Wynne was no expert in space travel, but compared to the few sleekly designed ships she'd seen, Truca's description of this one was apt. Even with her inexperienced eye she could see this beast was a piece of flying shit.
The young woman didn't wait for them to come up, however. She slid down the bulging hump at the center of the body and then used a set of ladder-like rungs to descend the rest of the way to the ground.
"You're going to like her," she told Ish, having obviously changed her opinion, and then her eyes lit like a child seeing Santa. "Tor!" she shouted and ran past the two women without stopping.
Tor had to drop what he was carrying in order to catch her when she leapt into his arms.
"I take it back. You were right. She's a beauty," she cried to her hero of the moment.
"Glad you approve." He laughed and set her down. "Grab one of these packs, would you?"
Wynne got a nod and a smile as a hello, but she was satisfied with that. Seeing Truca's excitement as she chattered happily about what she'd found, was greeting enough. The girl spoke so rapidly, it was hard for the translator to keep up, but Wynne caught a few words like thrusters, and convertors, and power mags. She had no idea what those things were, but from Truca's enthusiasm, Wynne gathered the monster could fly.
That was a comfort until Truca added, "Of course, we won't really know until we blow the sand out of her tubes. Come on, let me show you our new home."
Home was another word Wynne wouldn't use to describe the belly of the beastly bird. After a quick tour which involved a lot a rising and falling metal stairways, vast caverns for cargo, and cabins, Wynne knew where her contribution lay. The others all set to work making sure everything necessary for takeoff and landing worked. Her job would be to turn the living quarters into something beyond a health hazard and possible breeding ground for some alien plague.
She knew nothing about feedback generators, ionic stabilizers or fusion reactors, but she knew a dirty kitchen when she saw one. Most of the supplies Mohawk and Tor carried were freeze dried and meant to be reconstituted, so there had to be water somewhere. When she asked, Posy grinned.
"We have a full load. I borrowed Till's tanker. He can add it to the bill."
"After we deduct my labor in repairing the rear lifter," Truca added. Her face was pale and her eyes were ringed with dark circles of exhaustion. Her hair was a rat's nest. Her hands and fingers were nicked and scratched. Her broken nails were black with grease and grime. Her smile said she was in heaven.
"And the children?" Wynne asked.
"Till's woman picked them up a while ago. She wasn't too happy about Till and her brother sleeping on the job. You know, because they've always been such conscientious fathers." He grinned maliciously. "Those two will be waking with headaches from more than the drink. That woman has an arm on her. You didn't miss much. The little one is a biter and his sister has a face to match her father's. Mean. She kicked me when I wouldn't let her look under my robe."
Wynne laughed at that, not because the child kicked him, but because she too had wondered what Posy wore beneath his robes. "Scotsmen have the same problem." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and the giant laughed.
The ship was huge, well over two hundred feet in length, but the layout wasn't nearly as complicated as Wynne at first thought. The flat-faced head was the cockpit behind which was an open space Posy called the Con. From the Con, two sets of stairs ran up and down to the upper and lower decks. On either deck, one could walk from one end of the ship to the other, the upper led though a finished hallway lined with cabins large enough to offer privacy and not much more. The last two of these cabins were larger, containing double beds and additional furniture, all of which were built in and strictly utilitarian. Beyond them was a large common area with dining table and the fully equipped kitchen which Posy explained was normally reserved for officers. There were other rooms behind those. Side stairwells made access between decks convenient no matter where you were on the ship.
The lower deck was traversed over a series of catwalks through cargo space, dormitory style rooms with a common area between them, another kitchen for the crew, more cargo space big enough to hold three or four hopper sized ships, and ending in a passage that led to the engine rooms.
Wynne recruited Mohawk to help her and was surprised by his willingness to sweep floors and scrub down counters and wipe the grime from cabinets and shelves. Mohawk loved to cook, but usually left the cleanup to others.
"What's gotten into you? You've never volunteered to clean before." she asked while they scrubbed the table and swivel type chairs of the Officers' dining area.
They, and the molded lounge furniture, were not attached to the floor, but grew out of it. The seats looked like solid plastic, but responded to body heat and molded to the form of the person using it. Wynne wondered what they were made of and if it could be used in the new housing being built on Earth.
Mohawk seemed startled by the innocent question. Water sloshed over the sides of his water bucket and he wiped up the mess before he answered. The delaying tactic made her suspicious.
"Well?"
"Just making myself useful, damn it.
Can't a man be helpful without stupid questions?" He grabbed the bucket, almost spilling it again, and stomped around a half-wall into a rounded alcove that contained another, smaller table surrounded by a banquette against the wall. "Everyone else is busy," he added as if he'd just thought of the excuse. "Thought you'd appreciate the help. Fuck all!" He came back into the main area of the kitchen looking sheepish. "Spilled it again."
"What's wrong, Mohawk?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all," he blustered without meeting her eyes. "Do you want my help or don't you?"
Thinking she knew the cause of his upset, she put her hand on his shoulder. "You're feeling guilty about Roark, aren't you? I'm worried about my sister, too. They must know by now about the Romer. They must know we're among the missing. We have to find a way to tell them we're okay without giving away where we are or who we're with. Do you think you can do that in Imperial City?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll take care of it." He bobbed his head and looked so relieved, Wynne reached for his arm to give it a squeeze.
"You're such an old worrywart, Mohawk. You could have told me." She smiled warmly. "You take good care of me."
"Just remember that when we get to Mishra."
"Sorry to interrupt this gag worthy moment." Hands braced on the frame of the hatch door, Ish leaned in. "Cap'n wants everyone in the Con. They're going to fire her up and if they can blow the dust out of her pipes, we're taking off."
Chapter 24
Wynne swallowed hard and forced a yawn to rid her mouth of the bitter tang that hung around the hinges of her jaw. The sour taste always showed up right before she tossed her cookies.
"Please don't vomit," Truca whispered close to her ear. The girl had come rushing forward to share the celebration of their success to find Wynne bent over and turning green. "Ish has a weak stomach."
Wynne raised her head from where it hung between her knees. "You're kidding right?"
"I wish I was. Blood, intestines, severed limbs – none of that bothers her, but if someone loses their supper, she loses hers, and she keeps losing it." Truca shuddered. "Over, and, over, and ..."
"I get it." Wynne raised one shaking hand while the other covered her mouth.
"Get what?" Ish removed her headset and swiveled her chair away from the half dozen screen projections at her work station. She tapped several and like magic, they disappeared from view. They were navigational charts, but Wynne couldn't make heads or tails from the symbols.
"That the Sea Goose is running smooth now. She's going to be a great ship," Truca lied smoothly and proudly.
"Who the hell named her the Sea Goose?"
"I did. She's like one of those big birds we saw on Finor. She's fat and awkward on the ground, but once she's in the air, she's beautiful."
Ish snorted. "Beautiful is not the word I'd use to describe this bag of bolts."
"Wait until you get to know her."
In spite of Wynne's initial concern, the takeoffs of the previous ships she'd been on were smooth and uneventful. While the speed with which the hopper shot out of the dome was frightening, her fears were groundless. Not so the Sea Goose. With the exception of Truca, there wasn't a serene face to be found when the beast took flight.
Blowing dust out of her pipes wasn't nearly as easy as it sounded. Amidst the arrhythmic pounding of the straining engines, the ship shuddered and creaked as it pulled free of the sand. They hovered in a blinding cloud of dust. Smoke replaced sand. Flames belched from the barrels at the wingtips as they groaned in their effort to change position. The monster bounced several times before it began to rise. The controls in the cockpit flashed wildly.
At the helm, Tor fought for control with white knuckled determination, while a stone faced Posy played the control panel like a piano. Mohawk had his eyes closed tight and Ish clutched the arms of her chair. The grey of her skin turned a sickly yellow. The ship slowly turned.
Wynne's stomach finally rebelled when it looked like they were going to crash headlong into the cluster of buildings ahead. The ship shuddered and rose with terrifying slowness. They missed the buildings, but barely.
Only Truca's disembodied voice remained calm as she relayed what she was doing in the engine room along with instructions to Posy and encouragement to the ship.
"That's it goosey girl. It hurts, doesn't it, but we'll make it through. You've been beaten and broken, but you won't let that stop you. Show 'em you've still got it. Show 'em what you've got inside."
It was only now that they were finally in the air, and the contents of her stomach were back where they belonged, that Wynne understood Truca was talking to herself as well as the ship.
The Sea Goose shuddered and the floor tilted. Wynne's stomach tilted, too, but remained in place.
"I'd better get back. That stabilizer needs loosening up."
The ship righted, and Tor took a moment to look over his shoulder and call out to Truca. "You never lost it, Truca. Never thought you did. Good work." He lifted his chin toward the hatch. "Now get back there and fix that stabilizer, then see what you can do about our acceleration. I want to shift and I need that bubble in place. The window's closing."
"You got it, Cap'n." Truca bounced away.
"Whoa, wait a minute," Ish objected. "You can't shift in this tub."
"We don't have a choice. We have to make Ammon's Tunnel before it closes and the only way to do that is to shift. Take the helm, Posy." He waited for Posy's acknowledgement before he unbuckled his restraints and rose from his seat.
Wynne looked to Mohawk. "Shift? Tunnel?" she mouthed.
"Light speed. Time tunnel," he answered aloud.
"Is that like a black hole?" she asked, forgetting the silent mouthing.
"Good name for it," Posy said, though he didn't take his eyes from the console.
"Honarie has a head start. We need to make the jump if we're going to catch up," Tor reasoned.
"And what if the bubble is unstable?" Ish argued. "What if the tunnel closes while we're in it?"
"If the bubble is unstable, we'll shut it down and be late for the party. If the tunnel closes, it'll reopen somewhere outside the Ephis system and we'll miss the party. If we want to get there before the party begins, this is the only way to do it. All of Celos heard that takeoff. If Yatos is still planetside, he's already got ships in that air. We can't outrun him over distance. We've got to make the tunnel before it closes. We've flown on luck before and needed it a helluva lot more. So get the damn course plotted, Ish. Mohawk, head back to the engine room and do whatever Truca tells you to."
Ish looked like she wanted to argue some more, but she snarled, "Yo, Cap'n", and turned back to her charts with a muttered, "Never thought I'd live long anyway."
Glad for something to do other than cleaning, Mohawk took off.
Tor stopped at Wynne's chair. "You weren't scared, were you?" he asked.
"Not me, but my stomach was."
He smiled and nodded. "I should have warned you. We're good now. Think you can walk?"
"Sure," she said, though it took her two tries to get up.
He took her hand and walked her down into the cavernous hold below. The sound of their footsteps along the catwalk echoed in the open space.
"It isn't as dangerous as Ish makes it sound. I've had my eye on this ship for a few years now. She isn't as pretty as the Sky Hawk, but she's sound, and she has four times the cargo capacity. I couldn't afford her and I won't have much use for her when this is done, but she'll serve our purpose. I'll have the memory of what she feels like beneath my touch before it's over. Kind of like you." He leaned down to kiss her.
"Should I find that flattering?" Wynne asked when they broke apart. "The comparison to a bag of bolts, I mean, not the memory of touching."
"Yes, and don't let Truca hear you call the Sea Goose a bag of bolts."
Wynne laughed. "Did you really win her in a card game?"
"No. I won the right to pick the boneyard clean for the parts she needed and to pay her off in five
years. It's not going to happen, of course, but Till still holds the paper on her and can claim her when she's confiscated. He'll end up with a good deal." He looked up and beyond her. "The Sky Hawk is faster. She can shift from zero to ten in a blink. We had her up to fifteen once. Nobody can catch her."
He was still planning to make their escape. Wynne didn't want to think about it, but now had no choice. She wrapped her arms around his waist to anchor herself to the moment instead of facing a future without him.
"Zero to ten what? I'm new to this jargon."
"Sorry. Times light speed. At fifteen, the rush was better than sex." He smiled down at her. "Until you."
"If none of this had ever happened, what would you do with the Sea Goose?" she asked.
"Originally? I'd have turned her over to Digger as Captain. Let him run her legit with those high credit cargoes. He could take Chubo, Nix, and Lusomo as crew while I kept the Sky Hawk with Posy, Ish, and Truca, but that was only a dream. I'd never have the credits to pay for her and the additional crew. Mechanics don't come cheap, you know and this ship needs more than a skeleton crew."
"What about now? If you could. If things were different." She wanted him to see another future, too.
He answered without hesitation. "Turn the Goose over to Posy and Ish to run a second crew. I'd have to. Neither one would thank me for splitting them up, and would probably refuse to do it, anyway. I'd send Truca with them. I'd keep Chubo and Nix with me. They don't care what they fly or where they fly it as long as they're in the air."
"You could still do it, Tor. It doesn't have to end that way."
He gave her a squeeze and kissed the top of her head. "Let's get to Imperial City, find your Brides, and take it from there."
"But if we find the Brides..."
Tor stepped back. He clutched Wynne's shoulders to hold her away. His fingers dug into her flesh.
"I'll find those women if I can, Wynne, but that's for you and the crew, not me. Their testimony will protect my crew from charges of piracy and kidnapping. It won't protect me from the charge of murder. Orax and Honarie are dead men. I was going to wait aboard the Sky Hawk for one or both of them to return. If I only killed one, I'd hunt the other down before I turned myself in. I'm still going to kill them and there won't be anything fair about the fight. By the law, it'll be murder, but for Digger and Lusomo, it'll be justice."
Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) Page 23