Nearspace Trilogy

by Sherry D. Ramsey

  “Captain,” Sedmamin said, leaning forward and trying to look solicitous, “I don't mind telling you that there are some members of the Board who feel that we've been too . . . accommodating in our dealings with you. I've done my best to convince them that polite discourse will eventually lead to a satisfactory conclusion for all of us, but they're growing restless.”

  “Sending a virus in a notebug is your idea of 'polite discourse,' Chairman? It's not exactly the best way to earn my trust. And I'm within my rights under the Genetic Materials Privacy Act.”

  He shrugged again. “Laws are meant to be challenged, and as I said, there are some who think we've been polite enough. As for trust, you may want to give some thought to where you've already placed it, Captain.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Dores Amadoro still stood half-behind Sedmamin's chair with that neutral look on her face. I wondered if she knew what he was talking about, or if she was just too well-trained to show any reaction.

  “Call it free advice. You may not know as much as you should about that crew of yours.” He smiled in a knowing way that infuriated me.

  “My crew is no concern of yours.”

  “Of course it isn't. But one more thing, Captain Paixon,” he said seriously. “I like you, although we've had our differences. So here's a warning. There are changes in the wind, changes that are going to play more in my favour than in yours. It would be . . . prudent . . . on your part to simply come in, give us our samples, and go on your way. That way, there will be no complications.”

  Sedmamin liked me? I doubted it, and I certainly couldn't return the compliment. “Complications? What kind of complications?”

  “I can't elaborate. Let's just say it would be better to be a friend of PrimeCorp than an enemy.”

  I grinned at him. “Well, that's always been true, hasn't it, Chairman? Thanks for the warning. I'll think about what you've said, and get back to you, or to Ms. Amadoro. Gis la revido.” I broke the connection.

  I leaned back in my own chair—not leather—and closed my eyes. I hated talking to anyone at PrimeCorp, and Sedmamin was just about at the bottom of the list. My first impression of Dores Amadoro didn't put her much higher. Sedmamin had definitely stepped over a line with that virus trick—I had no doubt the idea had been his, no matter what he said about restless board members—and we'd have to be careful until we shipped out tomorrow. Chairman Sedmamin had taken my rebuff a little too graciously. He could well have other plans to delay us or try to get to me, although I couldn't imagine what they might be.

  On second thought, I could imagine a few. I didn't like them.

  I called Hirin and set the encryption to maximum. It took a moment for the administrator to connect us, and then his dear, wizened face came up on the screen. “Hirin, do you think you could come aboard this afternoon instead of tomorrow?”

  “Are you shipping out early?”

  “No, I don't have all the cargo on board yet. I'm just a little worried about . . . security, that's all.”

  “Well, they're throwing me a going-away party here this afternoon, and Maja's coming over for it.” He looked uncomfortable. “I didn't tell you about it because it might be . . . awkward.”

  “That's okay,” I reassured him. “I'm busy getting everything set here, anyway.”

  “Okej, well, as soon as I've made my appearance there I could come on over. Everything's packed. I don't like to disappoint them; the only going-away parties here are usually wakes.” He chuckled until he started coughing again.

  I smiled. “That'll be fine. Can I send Viss over to get you?”

  He nodded. “Sure. I thought it would be you, though.”

  “I think I'll stay on board until we leave. It might be wise in light of some recent developments, and you know how I love to be wise.”

  “Yeah, right. Our old friends giving you trouble?” Given my history with PrimeCorp, he knew exactly what I meant.

  “They might be. I'm not taking any chances. Just call when you're ready and I'll send Viss over. Enjoy your party.”

  “I will. See you later.”

  Just to be on the safe side, I sent messages to Maja and Karro, letting them know that PrimeCorp seemed to be at it again. Karro had had his own encounters with Sedmamin in the past, and though they were never as dramatic as mine, he didn't like the company's intrusions any better than I did. As for Maja—well, she actually seemed to get along with PrimeCorp and thought I was paranoid about the company. She didn't know why I wouldn't just cooperate with them and be done with it. Even knowing the details of my family's history with PrimeCorp didn't seem to make a difference to her. No doubt she thought I'd made half of it up or exaggerated it. She'd probably delete my warning message in a huff. I sent it anyway.

  I knew one thing. If Alin Sedmamin—or this new, unknown quantity Dores Amadoro—tried to get to me through Hirin or anyone else in my family, I'd have to leave the ship in order to kill them. I really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

  The only other person PrimeCorp bothered as regularly as me was my brother Lanar, but when I tried to message him I got an automated reply that he was currently outsystem, so I left it at that. With the Nearspace Protectorate fleet at Lanar's back, PrimeCorp tended to tread gently around him, anyway. I wondered if he'd know what Sedmamin might have meant by “changes in the wind,” but that could wait until the next time we spoke in real-time.

  That was all I could do. Unfortunately, that left my mind free to consider the other things Sedmamin had said.

  First, was the story about my mother true at all? He could have fabricated it as another ploy to get me onto PrimeCorp property, but I didn't think so. He wouldn't gloat over a lie. No, the PrimeCorp person had seen my mother—or someone they were certain was her.

  A month ago. I idly punched up the star charts and wormhole routes on my own screen, including the new ones. If the story was true, and considering that the identifier was already back on Earth, she could have been in almost any inhabited system. In the time since then she could have gone anywhere in Nearspace.

  The other question was, where had Sedmamin obtained a hologram recent enough to make any kind of identification likely? Whatever he'd have “on file” would be decades old.

  He hadn't said anything else about her, only that she was “alive and well.” For half a second I considered actually storming in to PrimeCorp and demanding to see what else was in that file, then shook my head. Chances were I wouldn't learn a damn thing more than I knew now, and I could be walking into something very bad. It was probably exactly what Sedmamin was hoping I'd do.

  As for that crack about my crew—I wanted to brush it off as nothing but pure nastiness on Sedmamin's part, but it nagged me. I trusted my crew and considered them all my friends, but in truth, I hadn't known most of them very long. I did know they all had secrets. Could one of them be keeping quiet about something that could ultimately hurt us?

  I closed down my screen and went to talk to Viss about picking up Hirin. One worry at a time.

  Chapter Five

  Dark as Space and

  Twice as Dangerous

  Dr. Ndasa and Hirin both arrived on board just at suppertime, which made for a busy couple of hours. We got Hirin settled in the guest quarters, right across the hall from my cabin. It didn't take long. He didn't bring much with him.

  He shrugged when I asked him about it. “I don't need much,” he said. “And you'd only be stuck with it after . . .”

  “After you croak and we jettison you off into the depths of space?” I finished for him.

  He laughed. “Exactly. Oh, Luta, I'm so glad you can joke about this. I was worried that it would be too hard on you.”

  “It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do.” I hugged him. “But if you can take it, I guess I can, too.”

  He stroked my hair briefly with a hand that trembled just enough to notice. “There never was much we couldn't take on together, was there?”

  “Nope,
there never was,” I agreed. “Let's go see how Dr. Ndasa's doing. If you feel up to it.”

  “I feel better than I have in a long time, to tell you the truth. One thing, though,” he said, squeezing my hand instead of letting it go. “The crew—they still don't know about you, do they? And me—us.”

  “Only Rei,” I said. “She knows some of it.”

  “And we'll keep it that way? I don't mind, but I thought you might be wondering if I would.”

  Sudden tears stung my eyes. “It's not the way I've ever wanted things to be, Hirin. All this secrecy. Especially now.”

  “I know. But I've had lots of time to think about it, and it's just the way things are. Frankly, I'm surprised you haven't left me for a younger man before this.”

  I looked up, stricken, but his eyes twinkled as he tried to suppress a grin. I put my hands on my hips.

  “Keep that up and I just might, old man. Now are you coming with me?”

  “I think I'll have a lie down and rest until supper time. I'll come to the galley to eat. I can't wait to have different people to talk with.”

  Since Dr. Ndasa was our only other passenger, I'd put him in one of the two larger cabins. He'd shown up with a lot more gear than I'd expected, but I let him put that in the smaller cabin that adjoined his, since it was empty anyway. He thanked me sheepishly. A mild scent of grapefruit hung around him, a sign of nervousness in Vilisians. I'd been studying up on the Vilisian scent-language in preparation for his time with us.

  “I've never been away from my laboratory for this long before,” he apologized. “It was difficult to leave things behind.”

  “If you do it often enough you learn to travel light, but it's no problem.” I leaned against his stack of mismatched luggage. “I'm curious, Dr. Ndasa. Are you really travelling all this way on the off-chance that you'll catch up to this researcher? She could be long gone by the time we get to Kiando.”

  He nodded. “Yes, yes, I know. But Chairman Buig, her employer, is reputed to have connections to many of the best longevity researchers. He has a miniature research facility set up there, but the work coming out of it is not small. If this particular lady has moved on, it will still likely be a worthwhile journey for me.” He flushed slightly, his amber skin darkening. “And besides, I have never taken an out-system journey before. I was born on Earth. I believe everyone should experience wormhole travel once in their lives.”

  I smiled. “I think so, too. I hope you'll be comfortable with us.”

  He looked around the cabin, the long smooth plait of his dark hair swinging across his back. “The room is quite perfect,” he said. “And I love the name of your ship, Tane Ikai. Do you have an interest in longevity as well, Captain Paixon? I assume you know for whom your ship is named?”

  “A passing one,” I said easily. “I know it's named for the Japanese woman who lived to one hundred and fifteen back in the twentieth century.”

  Dr. Ndasa nodded eagerly. The grapefruit scent was fading. “Most people live that long now, but back then it was notable. I believe, however, that it is possible to extend the human and Vilisian lifespans almost indefinitely.”

  “We've thought that for a long time, but we never seem to make a breakthrough.”

  “The Longate tragedy certainly set the research back,” he said. “But I think people might be ready to trust again. The knowledge is out there. I think we are very close. There have been rumours in the scientific community—but of course, they are only rumours.” He was staring at me intently, his dark eyes unreadable. Could he suspect . . . no. Surely just an alien thing.

  “What's the name of this researcher you hope to find on Kiando?”

  “Demmar Holsey,” he replied. “Although Chairman Buig is building quite a stable of researchers there. She is only one of perhaps a dozen, but I have heard especially good things about her work.”

  The name meant nothing to me, but I had hardly expected it would. My mother had been living under aliases for so long she might not even remember her real name.

  Dr. Ndasa rubbed his long-fingered hands together and looked around the room again. His skin smelled mildly floral now, with excitement. “I hope to learn much on this voyage. It should be an excellent spot for quiet study.”

  I laughed. “I don't know about that, but we'll see. I've never thought of this crew as 'quiet.'”

  I left then to see what was happening for supper, found that Baden and Yuskeya had things well in hand with some spicy Vileyran dish underway, and went back to the bridge to look over the cargo manifests. Everything was on board except one shipment of ore bound for Renata, so we'd leave as soon as that arrived, early in the morning.

  Supper was a jovial affair and I was optimistic that this would be a restful run. Sometimes passengers complicate things and everyone ends up ill at ease, but I didn't need to worry about Hirin, and Dr. Ndasa seemed to get along well with everyone. He had an endless supply of interesting stories from his interview subjects. I wondered what he'd think if he knew my true age. No doubt he'd want to interview me every day for as long as the journey lasted.

  That night I found it difficult to fall asleep. It wasn't that my circadian rhythms were out of sync with Earth's—we always made the necessary adjustments in the approach to a planet to make sure we didn't suffer from space lag. I sleep better planetside than out in space, but not planetside on a silent ship. That's the worst. No pulse of engines for comfort, no sprawling, majestic vastness of starry space outside the viewport. Not even the normal sounds of the world beyond the spaceport. Just utter silence in a big metal can.

  That wasn't the problem tonight. I knew very well what it was—Hirin was only a few scant meters away from me, just across the hall, and I longed to go over and curl up in the bed beside him.

  Not for sex—we'd not looked for that very often since he'd become sick. Just for the warmth and companionship and because there wouldn't be many more nights when I could listen to his breathing beside me and feel the soft rise and fall of his body next to mine. There were nights when I missed him no matter how many light years and wormhole skips separated us, but it was easier to dismiss when time and distance were insurmountable obstacles. When I could cross the hall to him in less than ten seconds, it was harder to ignore.

  I looked at the clock: one a.m. already, and I hadn't closed my eyes yet. I weighed the consequences. What if someone saw me? I had no idea if the rest of the crew were sleeping or pursuing their own nighttime activities. How could I explain creeping into the bedroom of my elderly “relative” in the middle of the night? It would raise more than eyebrows in this bunch. They wouldn't rest until they knew everything.

  Yet here I was, Captain of the ship, and afraid to venture outside my cabin door? It was ludicrous. I could always plead a trip to the head or a midnight snack if someone saw me emerge, after all.

  After another hour of debating, I decided to risk it. I pulled on my robe and threw together some clothes for the morning. I felt silly, and excited, like a teenager sneaking around on her parents.

  When I stealthily opened my door, the corridor was dark, broken only by a pale yellow glow from the guidelight in the galley. No-one else seemed to be stirring. I picked up my bundle of clothes and stepped out into the hall. A noise halted me.

  It didn't come from the direction of the crew quarters, but from the stern. I knew that peculiar tinny echo, the click of a step on a metal ladder. Someone was climbing up the hatchway from the lower decks. Trying to be quiet about it.

  I took a silent step backward to the doorway of my cabin and let the clothes I was carrying slide to the floor. I shrugged out of my long robe and let it slip down as well—I didn't want any encumbrances. Whoever it was would find out that I favoured biosilk sleepsuits in bright colours, but at that moment I didn't care.

  What really worried me was that I couldn't get to the weapons locker. To do so I'd have to run towards the intruder climbing up from the engineering deck, and that just wasn't practical or smart. I shoul
d have stepped back into my room and hit the general alarm button on the comm pad, but to be honest I just didn't think of it.

  I took one more careful step inside the doorway of my room, just to be out of the glow from the galley guidelight. Whoever was coming would have to step through that glow, however, and I wanted to be able to see them without being seen.

  Another light step sounded on the corridor decking. A shadowy figure rounded the corner of the weapons locker, close enough to notice me if the lights had been on.

  The figure gestured with something I couldn't discern, and the guidelight went out.

  I hadn't seen a face, only a dark silhouette, but it obviously wasn't anyone who belonged here. It took me a nanosecond to make up my mind. I launched out of my doorway at a dead run.

  My shoulder hit the intruder in the chest with as much force as I could gather. I swung for a neck pressure point, and yelled, “Intruder!” Strong arms thrust around me in a vise-like grip and started to squeeze. Good thing I'd gotten one good yell out first.

  My right knee came up reflexively and I knew the assailant was a man, since he arched deftly away from the blow. As soon as both feet were on the ground again I squatted low, then sprang up like a coil, twisting away at the same time. He couldn't keep the pressure steady and his grip loosened, enough for me to drop to the floor and swing my leg at his feet, knocking him off balance. He thudded against the airlock door, and the vibration triggered an automatic overhead emergency light. One step brought him close enough to kick me sharply in the solar plexus, though, and my breath whooshed out in a painful gasp.

  I twisted around to try and get a look at the intruder, but a black biosuit concealed him from head to toe. He bent over me swiftly and something cold and sharp pierced the flesh of my upper arm, right through my sleepsuit. I swore, jerking and rolling away from the pain, still gasping for breath. The intruder moved away, back toward the hatchway, although all of this happened in a fraction of the time it takes to tell it.