by Kathryn Hoff
Kojo pulled a bottle of Santerro brandy from his locker. “I’ve been saving this one. Here, we all need a drink.”
We raised mugs, toasting our release.
“Where do we go from here, missy?” Hiram asked.
“Saipan will be a good place to sell off the grav pellets and thistledown,” I said. “And that dealer is waiting for Archer’s art.”
Archer beamed.
“The self-sealer took care of the hull damage for now,” Kojo said, stroking his chin, “but a few days at a repair facility on Saipan would be a good idea.”
“Maybe we can spiff up Sparrow’s furnishings a little while we’re there,” I said.
“And replace that old grav generator,” Archer said. “Will fifty thousand be enough for that?”
Kojo grinned. “A hundred and fifty will. We agreed to split the bounty with Lili and her crew, half and half.”
Hiram froze, his grin turning to a scowl. “What’re you talking about, lad? We made a deal for fifty. The rest of Sparrow’s share belongs to Charity.”
Kojo’s chin came up. “Davo misrepresented everything about the job. I say the deal he made is void.”
“Davo never intended to pay us anything,” I said quietly. “He admitted it to us. All he cared about was getting Grand Duchess to Troy.”
Archer nodded, his face thoughtful.
Hiram frowned as deeply as I’d ever seen. “He said he’d lead us to Duchess and he did. He said Barony would pay and they will. Cuttin’ out Charity is going back on your word.”
Kojo patted his hands down in calming motions. “Of course, Charity should get something, but the question is how much?”
“I promised Davo I’d see her treated fair,” Hiram said. “We agreed to do the job for fifty thousand and were happy to do it. The rest belongs to Charity.”
“What about the damage the ship took because of Davo?” Kojo asked. “What about Patch’s injuries? If he’d led us straight to Barony like he promised, we wouldn’t have had to fight our way through Troy forces. He owes us for that.”
All debts come due.
Kojo turned to me with his open-faced, just-trust-me look. “Patch, if we give Charity fifty thou and keep a hundred for ourselves, we could fix the ship up proper. We could become a real business instead of just scraping by. Sparrowhawk could finally become a going concern.”
A hundred thou—Sparrowhawk would be beautiful. Archer could upgrade anything he wanted. Hiram could retire in style.
I hesitated. “I made a promise to look after Charity.” A promise to Davo but still, that was a debt I owed.
Kojo spread his hands with a smile. “We could bring her on as apprentice pilot after she does her term at flight school.”
Archer was watching me.
I said, “Maybe we should bring Charity in on this discussion.”
Hiram bared his teeth, as close to angry as I’d ever seen him. “Why? So’s you two can guilt her into giving up what’s hers by right? No—you make the deal, you live with it. Fifty thou for Sparrowhawk, a hundred for Charity.”
He folded his arms, his lined face stubborn, immovable.
“Charity’s too young to handle that kind of money,” Kojo said. “If we give her fifty thou, she’ll still be richer than she ever dreamed she’d be. She’ll probably blow it all, anyway. She’ll waste it on high living or get taken in by some con man and end up with nothing.”
Archer stepped forward, fists clenched at his side. “That’s funny, coming from you. All the mess with Ordalo? That was because of you. The smuggling charge? Your fault. You blame Davo for hurting Patch? What about the harm you’ve caused her? You dragged poor Patch into all your problems, along with all the rest of us.”
“Poor Patch?” Kojo slashed a hand down. “I don’t know what she told you but…”
“Nothing but the truth,” I said.
Kojo drew a breath. “Archer, what happened between me and Patch is all in the past, and all between her and me. It’s not your business.”
“Not my business? What do you think would have happened to me and Hiram if Sparrowhawk got confiscated? If you got arrested? If Patch went to prison? She’s my wife. You nearly sold her into slavery and now you’re trying to cheat Charity out of her inheritance!” Archer was no longer jittering, but vibrating like a lyre string.
I boggled, open-mouthed. My warm, friendly puppy had become an attack dog.
Hiram sat back, a half smile on his face.
“I’m not a cheat,” Kojo said, voice dangerously low.
Archer probably didn’t recognize it, but Kojo had stiffened into fighting stance. I tensed, ready to jump between them if fists started to fly—Archer wouldn’t stand a chance against a scrapper like Kojo.
But then Kojo slumped onto the bunk, dropping his head into his hands.
“At least, I never meant to be a cheat,” he said. “Just that one time, I tried to be clever. I put everything on the line—the ship, my life, Patch’s life—I was sure I could pull off that one big score. But it all went bad and I lost. Lost big.”
He raised his head, eyes miserable. “You want to call me names? Go ahead. Believe me, I’ve called myself worse. You want me to apologize? Zub knows, I’m sorry. I’m sorrier than I can say. I’ve done everything Patch asked, to try to put things right.” He gave a rueful laugh. “I even conducted the wedding for you two, against my better judgment. I’ve taken every job, no matter how risky, just to get us out of this mess. I even”—his voice shook a little—“I even signed over to Patch my inheritance, my share of Sparrowhawk. If I could think of anything else, I’d do it.”
I laid a hand on his shoulder. He might talk about selling Sparrow and call her a bucket of bolts, but she was home and family for him, too.
Kojo looked up at me, not with the fake-honest, easy-bluff face I was used to, but with raw pain lining his eyes and drawing his mouth. “Maybe I got a little greedy, thinking about so much rhollium from the bounty slipping through my hands…but it’s not for me. I’m just trying to make it up to you.”
“Not that way,” I said. “Hiram’s right. He’s not just the best pilot in the outer sectors, he’s the one who keeps us on course when we go astray.”
“I promised to look after Charity,” Hiram said, “the same as I promised Kwame to look after you two. I’d like to keep that promise.”
Archer nodded. “We won’t get anywhere unless we’re all steering for the same beacon.”
Kojo took a long look at the faces around him. “All right then. We’ll take the fifty thou we’re owed and Charity gets the rest.”
As we filed out, Archer paused in front of Kojo. “Look on the bright side. Be nice to Charity and maybe you’ll get a wife—a rich one.”
One more time, I donned the Corridor Patrol uniform and positioned a brown beret over my braids. In the guise of Sergeant Pata, I joined Kojo, Hiram, Lili, and Fargo in Sparrow’s salon to await the arrival of the outpost’s group captain and, more important, the bounty.
Lili, in rare good humor, sidled up to me nervously. “I want to thank you, Sergeant. My relations with the Patrol ain’t always been so good, but you did all right for us.”
I folded my arms, eying her sternly. “You may consider yourself fortunate, Captain Lili. In light of Captain Davo’s history of piracy, the Patrol has provisionally ruled that you were justified in opening fire on his skimmer. However, your actions have brought you and your ship to our notice. Any further aggression in the transit lanes will not be tolerated.”
“No worries, Sergeant. Nemesis ain’t going to be aggressing on nobody. Straight-out transport, that’s us. We’re even changing our ship’s name. What do you think of Redemption, eh?”
I nodded grandly. “Have your crew members been returned to you in good condition?”
Lili scowled. “I got ’em back, anyway, my boy Pietro and young Alis. It’ll take ’em a while to feel like themselves, I guess. A Barony prison ain’t no burzing hotel. Getting that rhollium sh
ould help to ease the pain, though.”
The Barony group captain arrived, together with a flunky carrying an ornate chest of Barony teak.
“Captains, I’ve brought your reward for the salvage of Grand Duchess.”
At his nod, the flunky hefted the chest to the salon table. Fargo and Hiram immediately opened it, revealing the soft silver-blue sheen of rhollium in glistening coins and finger-sized ingots.
The group captain turned to me, as I stood unobtrusively in the galley doorway. “Sergeant, the general asked me to convey our gratitude for your assistance. He has sent a personal commendation to the Corridor Patrol sector commander in Kriti.”
The Patrol’s sector commander would be scratching his pelt over that. “Simply doing my duty, sir.”
In truth, my eyes were on the rhollium—shouldn’t there be more of it?
Fargo rooted around in the chest with a frown. “Only coins and little bars? There ain’t nothing like three hundred thou here, Lili.”
“Indeed,” the group captain said. “The commission has awarded the salvors fifty thousand sovereigns.”
I’d hoped to remain aloof and distant, but that made me speak up. “The letters of marque promised three hundred thousand, Group Captain.”
His lip twitched. “I believe the letters of marque also specified that Grand Duchess should be returned unspoiled, and with all logs and records intact. Instead, we find that the engineering section has been sabotaged, the hull in the survey section breached from within, and important records and cargo are missing entirely.”
Lili bared her teeth. “Liars and cheats! You can’t hold us responsible for that!”
“Indeed,” I said. “Damage incidental to the recovery of the ship is hardly a reason to renege on the offer.”
“Renege. Yuh,” Lili said.
Kojo’s hands had tightened into fists.
The group captain shrugged. “Fifty thousand sovs is a great deal of money for a simple salvage, but if the salvors wish to appeal the commission’s decision, they may do so. Since you are not Barony citizens, that will require you to put up a bond for legal expenses—in the amount of twenty-five thousand sovereigns. Each.”
Bastards. No wonder they made enemies of everyone they met. I made a mental note to avoid any Barony traders in the future.
“Not satisfactory, sir,” I said. “I shall have to include this matter in my final report.”
“As you like. Strangely, the sector commander in Kriti said she’d never heard of a Sergeant Pata. No doubt the recovery of Grand Duchess will bring you some well-deserved attention from Corridor Patrol command.”
As the blood drained from my face, the group captain turned his malicious smile on Lili. “By the way, Captain Lili, while you and your crew have been given amnesty for your prior activities on behalf of Troy, it would be best if you did not return to Barony space—you will not find us so hospitable in the future.”
As Kojo escorted the Barony delegation off the ship, Lili muttered to Fargo. “Hospitable, yuh. If I ever come back to Barony sectors, I’ll let my cannons do my talking for me.”
So much for redemption.
As Fargo and Hiram counted the rhollium into equal piles, Kojo came back and lounged in the door, face grim.
Hiram looked up. “That’s it, twenty-five thou each.”
“That’s a far cry from a hundred fifty thousand,” Kojo said.
Fargo swept Nemesis’s share into the box.
“We’ll be taking our leave now, Captain Kojo,” Lili said. “I’m going to hightail out of here before the burzing Barony pirates take this away, too. I suggest you do the same.”
“We will.” He made a courtly bow. “Captain Lili, smooth sailing and easy berths.”
“Yuh. Sail swift and land soft.”
With a final glance at me, Lili said, “I knew you wasn’t no real Patrol officer. You’re too damn sensible.”
CHAPTER 29
Settling up
With all visitors gone and Sparrowhawk’s hatches sealed, the crew gathered around the paltry rows of ingots and coins.
Charity’s lip trembled. “Twenty-five thou. Daddy promised you fifty, so I guess that all belongs to you.”
Poor Charity. She’d lost her father, her riches, and her chance to go to flight school.
She lifted her chin gamely. “If you don’t mind taking me to your next port? I’d druther not stay with these Barony folks. They’re not friendly.”
“No problem,” Kojo said, staring balefully at the rhollium.
Hiram cleared his throat. “Seems to me I recall Charity being of use during the voyage. She took to the guns when we came to rescue Patch and Archer. She’s been apprenticing already, with Davo and…well, she shows promise on the piloting.”
I blinked in surprise, but if Hiram had changed from his no-apprentice-in-my-wheelhouse stance, I was all for it. We had a future to look forward to now, even if it wasn’t as prosperous a future as we had hoped. There was no reason Charity should be left with nothing, and another person in the wheelhouse to look after Hiram would be a big help.
Archer bobbed, setting his curls in motion. “She helped out in the engine room when I banged my head.”
“She tended my injuries,” I said, “twice. And she manned the rockets for Duchess when we rounded the dark star.” I nudged Kojo. “If she has a mind to stay on Sparrowhawk as apprentice pilot and general help…”
“Yes!” Charity yelped. She looked from me to Kojo. “Please?”
Kojo dragged his eyes from the table and managed a smile—a weak one, but a smile.
“All right,” he said. “If all hands are agreed? An apprentice share for Charity. Welcome to the crew.”
I divided the rhollium into stacks: a big one for Sparrowhawk’s upkeep, supplies, and owners’ shares, and the rest among the crew.
Hiram pocketed his share with a grin. “What’s our heading, Patch?”
“The nearest jump gate,” I said, gathering Sparrow’s share into my hat. “And from there, as far from this sector as our jump cells will take us.”
Sparrow’s engines chugged to life. Soon, we’d left the outpost behind, Hiram steering us back into the Ribbon Road to head for the jump gate.
In my cabin, I cached the rhollium in my private locker. Changing the sergeant’s coat for a red jacket and matching beret, Sergeant Pata was expunged—I was back to being plain old Patch. With relief, I released my hair from the fraying braids into its normal frizz. It felt like coming home.
Coming home meant going over the accounts.
I opened my datacon only to have Tinker leap effortlessly into my lap. What is it about settling down to work that attracts cats? She batted at the lines of figures—most of them on the “money owed” side of the ledger.
Distracting Tinker by stroking her ears, I began to plan how to allocate Sparrow’s share of the bounty among our creditors. First, to interest on the debt from when we’d replaced our blown propulsion coils. Next, installments to suppliers who’d believed in us enough to let us buy on credit. I’d transmit payment when we got to Saipan—they’d be throwing a party in our home port to get even a few credits from us.
Not much would be left over, but we still had our cargo. Saipan was a low-grav moon, the grav pellets would bring a good price there. And thistledown was in demand as a natural insulator among the tech-rejecting naturalist colonies nearby. We’d have enough for hull repairs, but no frills: no new curtains or carpets.
Another grav glitch as Hiram adjusted our heading made me hesitate, but we’d have to live with the bumps a while longer. I deleted Replace grav gen from the maintenance wish list.
Kojo stuck his head in. “Sis? Turn to incoming messages.”
He thumped onto my bunk, his dark face washed out, lips pale.
My heart beat a little faster. “Are you sick?” Papa had looked like that just before he collapsed in the wheelhouse three months before.
Tinker, always sensitive to trouble, slipped off my
lap to hide behind the locker.
Kojo nodded at the screen. “Take a look.”
Corridor Patrol Alert: Kojo Babatunji and Pachita Babatunji. By order of the Settlement Authority, your probation has been revoked. You must report within three days to Settlement Authority sector control, Kriti City. Charge: smuggling restricted technology. Cutter Sparrowhawk to be impounded on sight, all jump gate privileges suspended.
A black curtain seemed to fall over my eyes. “Zub’s horns and tail. What happened?”
“Ordalo’s dead,” Kojo said, his voice flat. “It was on the news feed. Some rival gang caught up with him on one of the moons. There was some kind of battle. The Kriti garda moved in—they’d been following Ordalo—and captured the survivors. When the shooting stopped, Ordalo was dead and three or four others, including a Terran suspected of being his buyer.”
“And the synthreactor?” I could hardly breathe.
“The garda has it. They’re making a big splash about breaking up the smuggling ring and exclaiming in shocked surprise that anyone would have the balls to bring in a synthreactor. Commentators are wondering who made sure that Ordalo and his buyer wouldn’t be in any position to talk once the authorities were closing in.”
Oh, ancestors.
I closed the accounts, my mouth feeling like old leather. There would be no repairs for Sparrowhawk. As for our suppliers, our bad luck was their bad luck.
Ordalo, dead. His buyer, dead. The synthreactor sitting in a Kriti evidence room.
Our chance for amnesty on the smuggling charge, gone.
Sparrow to be confiscated, probably to be sold for scrap.
My cramped, cozy cabin. Gone.
The wheelhouse, as familiar to me as any planet-dweller’s living room, gone. Archer’s engines that he nursed with such loving care, gone. The tatty salon, the faded curtains, the worn carpets, all the little things that made Sparrow home, gone.
Papa’s pride. Gone.
“What’s the sentence for smuggling for a first-timer?” I asked.
“Three standard years.”
Three years. Imprisonment. Slavery by another name.
Kojo sat up a little. “What about that synthreactor core you found on Duchess? Can we use it as a bargaining chip?”