“Amelia,” she heard Liam call behind her, “a moment, if you please.”
She paused, noting that Liam was giving quiet instructions to the sailor standing as brow’s mate. They were all dressed in civilian clothes typical of a merchant crew, but she smiled as she saw Liam turn. The motion let his coat fly open for a moment and she noticed that he was indeed wearing the blue sash around his waist that she’d picked up for him on their last port visit. He walked up to her with a smile and motioned them forward.
“Nice sash,” she commented. “Someone pick that out for you?”
“It’s exactly the sort of thing a person with no taste would think rather elegant,” he replied, one eyebrow raised.
“I thought Captain Stonebridge would love it.”
“He does.”
Captain Julian Stonebridge was Liam’s alter ego as he played his ongoing role of faded nobleman turned merchant captain. He was becoming quite well-known in this sector as a man who reliably delivered his cargos through pirate-infested space and was sometimes even sought out by merchants desperate to move goods. Any observer would expect Captain Stonebridge to be making a fair bit of money, and little extravagances like the silly blue sash sent a clear—if gaudy—message that Sophia’s Fancy was doing well.
Amelia was quite content to play the role of loyal cargo master, mostly staying in the shadows while Liam drew attention. Sure enough, as they strolled down the promenade he was greeted with enticing calls from the local brothel, and the owner of the only tavern open this early waved his welcome. Liam studiously ignored them all, even lifting his nose slightly, and Amelia suppressed her smile at his ability to play the fop.
The central stalls of the promenade were busy with foot traffic, and Amelia cast her eyes across the assortment of wares on offer. Windfall Station was the biggest transit point in the sector and saw a huge variety of cargo. Supply was never consistent, though, and she’d learned that if she saw something good she had to grab it right away, because tomorrow that stall and its contents might be gone.
There were the usual foodstuffs and basic household necessities, no doubt precious to the hardscrabble locals but nothing she couldn’t requisition from Navy stores. But one stall caught her attention. It had more open space than usual, and her eyes rested on what was clearly a family, all standing together in a pose and staring in the same direction. There was a flash, and then a second one. Intrigued, she touched Liam’s arm and slowed.
The family—two parents and four children—were dressed in their finest, and they crowded around the merchant who had emerged from under his hooded device and was carefully manipulating a machine.
“It’s a picture-maker,” Liam said. “I’ve seen them farther into the Hub.”
Amelia frowned, peering toward where the merchant still hunched over his machine.
“Does it have little brushes and paints inside?” she asked.
“No, it’s not a painting. It captures the light onto a special sheet and preserves it.” He leaned in very close and whispered into her ear. “I’ve heard that our most modern ships have it fitted, to make copies of what our telescopes are seeing.”
The merchant triumphantly held up a thick, shiny sheet of paper and the gathered family gasped as one. On the sheet was a perfect black-and-white image of them in the pose they’d held just moments before.
Amelia was astonished at the clarity of the image and delighted that this family could have such a record to carry home with them. She grabbed Liam’s arm.
“I want one of you.”
“Of me?” His lips curled into a puzzled smile.
“So that when I’m all alone in my cabin, trying to block my ears against Chief Sky’s snoring, I can have a picture of you to fall asleep gazing at.”
He laughed, glancing at the stall. “You know I’ll have to be in character of a noble Stonebridge . . .”
“Just don’t sneer.”
The family had paid for their precious image and were departing excitedly down the promenade. The merchant wasted no time in sizing up his next potential customer, gesturing grandly at Liam.
“Ah, my lord, you would be an outstanding subject for my next image. A piece of history and a work of art combined into one.”
“Yes,” Liam said, adopting his most foppish accent, “I quite agree, good man. What do I do?”
The merchant helped Liam take position in front of the backdrop and made a few suggestions of pose. Liam stood tall, one hand resting on his short sword as he stared off into the distance. It took only seconds to capture the image, and another minute to produce it. At Liam’s request the final image was made small enough for him to put into his inner pocket.
“What do you think, Cargo Master?” he said, handing Amelia the sheet.
It was actually a very handsome picture, Amelia realized, fighting down her giddy grin and merely nodding politely. “A true and noble likeness, milord.”
“Excellent.” He slipped the image into a protective case and then into his pocket. A startling number of coins exchanged hands—Amelia hadn’t actually thought to consider how much it would cost—and then Liam indicated haughtily for her to follow. When they were well clear he leaned in with a wink. “The things I do for you, darling.”
Realizing they were in public she restrained from hugging his arm, but she did add a skip to her step. “Thank you.”
Their destination loomed ahead, a brick-fronted façade from which a sign hung declaring this café to be the Cup of Plenty. A patio full of tables hosted the regular crowd of patrons, a few of whom glanced up without interest as Liam and Amelia walked to the door. The air inside the café carried the soothing aroma of coffee, laced with the sweetness of pastries. It was Amelia’s favorite moment whenever they came to Windfall.
The café was arranged in neat rows of long tables, each able to seat three a side in comfort, on a dark, tiled floor under a vaulted roof. Wealthier clients were scattered around the room, enjoying the fresher air and richer fare, and Amelia immediately spotted a familiar face. Propped with his back to the wall on the left side sat their usual merchant contact, Matthew Long. His broad form hunkered over his cup, a pot of coffee, and additional cups resting before him. His dark eyes rose and did their usual pass over Amelia’s form before settling on Liam. He struggled heavily to his feet.
“My lord,” he greeted, his deep voice wet with phlegm, “welcome back to Windfall.”
“Thank you,” Liam responded, taking the nearest seat. “It’s been a while. I hope you’re keeping well, Mr. Long?”
“Well as always.” He gestured for them both to sit, and his eyes roamed up and down Amelia again. She always felt the need for a wash after an encounter with this odious fellow, and the obviousness of his lechery was a shock after her recent visits to more sophisticated worlds Hubward. Liam would inevitably need her, but maybe she could skip the small talk.
“Milord,” she said suddenly, “perhaps I’ll inquire into some pastries for us. It would be a pleasant treat after our long voyage.”
Liam had already taken his seat and looked up in surprise. But he followed her lead and adopted an amused expression, which he tossed toward Long.
“My cargo master has a weakness for the sweet treats here at the Cup of Plenty.” He waved dismissively at her. “Go on, then, Amelia. None for me, thank you, but please indulge yourself.”
She nodded her thanks and turned, feeling Long’s eyes on her as she strode down the tables toward the delicious-looking pastries. Her boots thudded softly against the tiled floor, matched suddenly by a second series of thuds approaching her. She looked up and saw one of the owners of the Cup of Plenty.
This was the female Theropod, based on the lack of ornamentation on her small, triangular head. Her long neck was curved into an S-shape and her body was horizontal in the walking stance, her long tail stretching out behind her. Her powerful legs propelled her effortlessly toward Amelia, triangular boots hiding her three-toed feet and their vicious claws. She
was dressed in her usual black outfit, faint smudges of coffee grounds visible on her white apron.
She paused at a polite distance from Amelia, her head lifting up so that her reptilian eyes were level with those of her guest. Her scaly lips parted and she growled in her own language.
“Welcome, lady,” said the translator around her neck. “It is good to see you again.”
“Thank you,” Amelia replied, remembering to speak slowly and simply. She wanted to smile, as she genuinely liked the Theropod couple who ran this upscale joint, but she knew that the baring of teeth was a sign of aggression to them. Her lips curled up but remained firmly closed.
The Theropod stared at her in patient silence.
“My name is Amelia,” she said on an impulse. “What is your name?”
The brute barked suddenly, which Amelia recognized as laughter.
“You could not pronounce it, lady.”
“But you can. I’d like to hear it.”
A clawed hand reached up and switched off the translator. The lips parted to reveal daggerlike teeth and a pair of syllables growled out. Amelia listened carefully and tried to repeat them back.
“Behhh-larrr . . .”
Another bark. Amelia laughed in return. The Theropod reactivated her translator.
“We have a Human name,” Amelia said, “which sounds like yours: Bella. May I call you that?”
The brute’s head cocked slightly. “I have not heard my name in the Human language. It does not sound painful on your tongue.”
“Does it sound painful to your ears?”
“No.” She barked again. “You may call me that . . . Arr-meh-ley-arr.”
Amelia suppressed a grin down to tightly pursed lips and nodded in delight.
“May I get you anything?” Bella asked.
Amelia looked over at Liam and Long, who were deep in discussion over a sheaf of cargo manifests between them. She probably had time to enjoy something, and she gazed along the table of sweet treats.
“Do you have anything with fruit centers?” she asked.
Bella pointed with her small arms at a cluster of icing-covered baked goods. “We were able to acquire a selection of fruit preserves, but there are not many left.”
“It’s good to see that the trade lanes have opened again,” Amelia said, selecting one of the pastries, “now that the pirates have disappeared.”
“There was a period of calm.” Bella pulled tongs from her apron and deftly placed the treat onto a small plate. She handed it to Amelia. “But trouble is returning.”
“Oh? I hadn’t heard of new pirate attacks.”
The Theropod’s eyes flicked left and right.
“Not attacks on ships. Trouble here at the station.”
“Local thugs?” Amelia couldn’t help but glance at Long.
“Newcomers,” Bella said. “Pressuring all of us merchants to pay them, with money and information.”
“What kind of information?”
Bella’s head cocked again.
“Information about you.”
The list of cargos was impressive, Liam thought, as he leafed through page after page. Destroying the local pirate scourge had definitely brought positive growth to this sector, and he was quietly proud of his ship’s service to the people. But Julian Stonebridge would have no such thoughts, and he kept his face neutral as he reviewed another manifest.
“I see you’ve been able to reconnect with the Iron Swarm,” he commented. “There are several shipments from that blasted place here.”
“Your bold delivery helped reassure the Swarm’s merchants that trade was once again possible,” Long replied. “Are you heading back that way, my lord?”
“I don’t know,” Liam said with a sniff, wanting to keep his options open. “It’s a ghastly place.”
Long waited in silence as Liam reviewed the rest of the options. Many were local deliveries within the Silica sector, with a few to the chaotic jumble of the Iron Swarm and even a few bound for worlds closer to the Hub. One local shipment caught his eye, having come from his home system of Passagia. And he almost skipped past a nondescript cargo of ore, until he saw that it had originated in Labyrinthia. Intel from their capture of Black Hand suggested that Dark Star’s tendrils were wrapped tight around that mysterious patch of space.
“I say, is this really from Labyrinthia?”
Long examined the manifest for a moment. “So they claim.”
“Silica seems a long way to come to deliver ore.” Especially since Silica was well-known as a mining system.
“I don’t usually ask questions,” Long said with a heavy shrug. “I have a buyer for this ore here in Silica and I’m happy to facilitate the transfer. It would be a quick run for you, my lord—Silica 7 and back in no time.”
Amelia sat down next to Liam, her pastry on a plate before her. She gave him a grin before taking a tiny bite. He showed her the manifest.
“Is there anything unusual about this ore, Amelia? It comes all the way from Labyrinthia.”
She examined the sheet, taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully. “It’s pretty low-grade, from what I can see, but if it’s from Labyrinthia . . . who knows?”
“Who brought this shipment to you, Mr. Long? Do they often bring ore to Silica?”
“They’re a new crew,” he admitted. “But like I said, my lord, I don’t usually ask questions.”
Liam made a show of surveying the stack of cargo lists again. Most of it was routine stuff, the clearest message simply that overall trade was picking up. Matthew Long certainly seemed less dour than usual, and as Liam glanced around the room he sensed an overall optimism in the patrons. Out here in the Halo life could be hard, so any boon was welcome. Perhaps if Windfall Station could make enough extra money they might even get their air filters replaced.
Amelia was still enjoying her pastry so Liam sipped slowly at his coffee. But he could tell Long’s patience was starting to wane.
“This is an impressive collection, Mr. Long, and I suspect we’ll want several of them. But I’ll need some time to plan a route and assess costs.”
“Of course, my lord.” Long drained his cup and sat back heavily. “Perhaps my man can call upon you at your ship this evening?”
“Splendid idea.” Liam collected the manifests up into their leather folder and tied the strings. “Good day, Mr. Long.”
The merchant eased himself up and, with a nod to Liam and a smile to Amelia, shuffled away.
Amelia watched him go, then leaned in.
“Bella says that there are troublemakers on the station, asking questions about us.”
“Oh? What kind of troublemakers?”
“Sounds like gangsters to me. Demanding protection money, wanting local intel. But why would they be asking about us?”
“We’re still new in these parts,” Liam suggested, considering. “Most local merchants—as few as they are—would be known quantities to folks like Long. We’re a bit of a mystery.”
“But it looks like new ships are coming to Silica,” she said, tapping on the manifests. “We’re just one of many new outsiders.”
“Maybe the thugs are asking questions about all of us?” A sudden thought struck him as he reviewed her words in his mind. “I’m sorry, who’s Bella?”
A grin burst across her face. “The Theropod who runs this place! She and I got talking and we finally exchanged names.”
“Her name is Bella?” Liam glanced doubtfully toward the brute as she cleared one of the tables.
“Well, sort of. It’s as good as I can pronounce it.”
He nodded, his eyes moving slowly across the room again. The optimism he’d sensed earlier was still there, and he supposed that in a place like Windfall petty organized crime was just a fact of life. With new prosperity came new interest from criminal elements.
But it was through exactly this sort of petty thuggery that the influence of Dark Star was spreading across the Cluster.
“Dark Star’s pirate
s were well-established here in Silica when we first arrived,” he said. “It wouldn’t take much to go into hiding and reemerge as gangsters.”
Amelia wiped her fingers and lips with a cloth napkin, raising an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we go looking for trouble?”
“No . . .” Liam opened the folder and flipped through the sheets until he found the Labyrinthian ore. “But I think it might be worthwhile inspecting some of these cargos—or at least, the people currently holding them.”
“Looking like this?” she asked, plucking at his sash and then at his fine coat.
“I hate to say it, but I’m not the one for this mission. Too many people on this station know what I look like.”
“I could probably move about unnoticed,” she offered.
“Agreed. But you’re going to have help.”
Amelia had been sharing a cabin with Chief Petty Officer Harper Sky for months, but still didn’t feel like she really knew the ship’s assaulter. She knew Sky snored softly, and that she was fastidiously tidy, and that she preferred to read romance books in her leisure time. She knew that Sky was fully aware of her relationship with Liam, but never a word about it had been spoken in their cabin. Amelia had a delightful suspicion that Sky had a crush on Daring’s coxn, Chief Oliver Butcher, but if anything had happened on that front she was utterly unaware. Aside from sleeping she and Sky were rarely in the cabin together, so it was surprisingly crowded as they both prepared for the next mission ashore.
Amelia had managed to source a few sets of utilitarian worker’s clothing several port visits back, and these were invaluable in letting them go ashore without looking like sailors. She and Sky each kept a set in their footlockers and had pulled them out for a quick change.
Sky pulled off her uniform shirt, her elbow just missing Amelia in the close confines. Amelia was slipping into her worker’s shirt, figuring that the wrinkles would help her look that much more disheveled. Sky reached down to grab her own worker’s garb, powerful arm like a corded rope wrapped in scarred sandpaper. Her torso was like a shaped pillar of iron, any lack of curves made up for in sheer strength. Not for the first time, Amelia felt like a waifish girl next to her powerful shipmate and she hurried to tug her own shirt down and try to look bulkier.
Dark Star Rising Page 6