Balance of Terror (17 page)

“Did you have to bring them here?”

The aggrieved male tone penetrated the fog that enfolded Moon’s brain. She let out a quiet gasp and lifted one hand to her throbbing head. It didn’t appear that anyone heard her because the conversation continued.

“Well I’m sorry I didn’t follow any unwritten protocols,
grandpa
, but these two were trying to jack my shuttle.”

“
Your
shuttle?” The voice was icy.

“Okay, the ship’s shuttle that just happens to be my favourite. Anyway, that’s not the point.”

“No, as I recall, the point was you taking off with barely any notice on a whim to see some damned native gathering on a planet at the edge of space.”

“Hey, Kushin Meet’s one of the last of the old-time Marentim tribal festivals. Two creases away, four days there and back, plus maybe two to have a look around, know what I mean? C’mon grandpa, it was killing me being cooped up on this ship. Just because you don’t have any fun doesn’t mean I don’t get to have any either.”

“Quinten Tamlan.”

Now that was a strange voice. Not unpleasant in tone but…mechanical sounding.

Moon blinked her eyes open and saw three people standing over her. Startled, her gaze flicked from one to the other.

A young man, not tall, very skinny, with an insolent twist to his lips. A…woman, white skin, white hair, black eyes, slim, tall. And another man, scarred, well-built, in some kind of battle armour. Without taking her gaze from them, she moved her hand from her side and felt it collide with another limb. Srin’s arm. Still warm.

“You tried to jack my shuttle,” the man in battle armour said from his superior height advantage.

“I….” Moon tried to swallow past the dryness in her throat. “I….” This time she stopped because she didn’t know what to say. Who were these people anyway? Pirates?

“Saff,” the man said, “help them up and take them to one of the, ah, briefing rooms, while I have a word with Mr. Cenredi here.”

“Yes, Quinten Tamlan.”

The white-skinned woman reached down and, with an ease that belied her lithe figure, pulled Moon to her feet. Then she bent and hoisted Srin’s solid frame over her shoulder. Moon’s eyes widened at the woman’s obvious strength but she didn’t say a word.

“There’s nowhere for you to run,” the man told Moon in no uncertain terms, “so I suggest you follow my crewmember. I’ll be along shortly.”

Despite the thumping in her head, Moon tried to take a look around as she was being gestured out. She supposed they were in some kind of cargo bay, although it was much smaller than the ones aboard the
Differential
. Did that mean they were aboard a ship that was also proportionally smaller?

She exited the bay and followed the strange pale woman up a short ramp. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t a long straight corridor that appeared to tear through the length of the entire vessel. The walls and ceiling looked sleek enough but Moon didn’t think she’d ever been in such a bare-looking ship. Even the prison transports she’d briefly been on had been closed off into smaller compartments. This clear view from the stern almost to the bow of the vessel made it look alien and unfinished. Still, there was nothing she could do about that, so she dutifully followed the white-skinned woman down the passage that hummed with background engine noise. Beneath her booted feet, the metal walkway clanked as they headed away from the cargo bay.

The tall crewmember wasn’t saying a word. She might be a human, but Moon didn’t think so. Humanoid certainly. Maybe a mix of human with something else? She’d heard about the range of feasible morphologies from some colleagues at several social events, but she had never seen such a being in reality. Moon’s scientific curiosity was aroused but she knew this was neither the time nor the place to satisfy it.

After they’d traversed what appeared to be half of the ship, the woman led Moon down a small flight of steps, palming open the door with her free hand.

“You will wait in here.”

Moon looked around as she was ushered into a briefing room that resembled a detention centre cell. Bare walls. Flat ceiling. A small shelving unit, no doubt bolted to the floor. A square table pushed into one corner. Three chairs, none of them comfortable-looking.

Srin was placed in a chair with more care than Moon was expecting, then the woman – had the armoured man called her “Saff”? – left them. The door hissed shut with a quiet finality.

Moon rushed over to Srin, lightly slapping his face and sighing with relief when his eyes fluttered open.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

He groaned and straightened. “As if someone hammered me with a tecton-sledge. What happened?”

“From what I can gather,” Moon said slowly, after a guarded look around, “we were trying to jack a shuttle belonging to this ship. One of the crewmembers decided to take it for a joy-ride to Marentim, saw us snooping around, knocked us out, and brought us here.”

Srin looked up at her. “Where’s ‘here’?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I came to on the floor of a cargo bay in the middle of an argument. That was no more than a quarter of an hour ago.”

“And our things?”

Moon looked around the bare room with a speaking glance.

Srin groaned. “Out of one bad situation, straight into another, eh?” He kneaded his forehead, wrinkling the skin.

“How are you feeling?” Moon asked.

“Besides the nausea, headache and feeling of disorientation?” He blinked several times. “Fine, just fine.” Then he focused on her face. “What about you?”

Moon grimaced. “If we keep getting waylaid like this,” she remarked, “we’ll run out of medication before reaching Kad.”

She hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but they slipped out without her thinking. She was consumed by anger, exhaustion and the addling her brain had taken when she’d been hit with that scrambler beam.

Her gaze flew to Srin but, before she could stammer out an apology, he reached for her hand and squeezed it. “We’ll get out of this. I know we will.”

Had he said the words for her benefit? Or his own? Moon closed her eyes in momentary despair, just as the door slid open.

The first person through the door was the man in battle armour, followed by the pale woman.

The man had looked tall from Moon’s position on the floor of the cargo bay and that impression didn’t diminish when she eyed him while standing. Without the scars that radiated across his face, he might have been called handsome and, in fact, Moon wondered why he still wore them. They looked to be the traces of old wounds, easy enough for any modern medical facility to get rid of. His eyes, though, were cold and bitter, no matter that they were warmer in colour than Srin’s. She had never thought of grey as a comforting colour before but, next to this man, Srin’s eyes exuded exuberant cheerfulness.

The woman stood silently by the door, while the man advanced.

“My name’s Quinten Tamlan, and you’re aboard my ship, the
Perdition
.”

It was obvious that he was expecting some reaction to his statement and he frowned when Moon and Srin exchanged puzzled glances.

“What were you doing on Marentim?” he demanded when it was clear nobody was going to say a thing.

“Trying to get across it.” Moon’s voice was dry.

“Why?”

“We were,” she hesitated, “heading for a rendezvous point.” That seemed a safe enough statement to make.

“And where was this rendezvous point?” he pressed.

What was she supposed to say? She didn’t know? She lifted her chin instead. “That is privileged information. Now it’s my turn. Where are our things?”

He frowned. “You’re in no position to demand a ‘turn’ at questioning,” he answered. “For all you know, my young crewmember spaced everything you owned.”

It didn’t occur to Moon until later that he was deliberately trying to provoke a reaction. And he must have known he’d succeeded beyond measure when she jerked and took an involuntary stumble forward. Only Srin’s grip, his fingers still tightly entwined with hers, stopped her.

No, not the medicine! Not gone!

She felt herself being pulled backwards and gently pushed into a seat, then Srin stood up, his bulk blocking part of her view. Protecting her.

“You make it appear as if we should know you,” her lover said in that serenely calm voice of his, “but we’ve been, out of circulation, for a while.”

“So you haven’t heard of my ship, the
Perdition
?”

“No.”

“Or an organisation called the ST Alliance?”

She saw the back of Srin’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “No, I’m sorry, we haven’t.”

Tamlan’s lips tightened. “Exactly how long have you been out of circulation, as you put it?”

“For me, twenty years, give or take a few months. For my colleague here, almost as long I should think, judging from the rarefied atmosphere where she used to work.”

Srin might have been speaking a foreign language because Moon, shifting position so she could peek past his elbow, could see the incomprehension on Tamlan’s face.

“Where exactly are you from?” Tamlan asked, obviously thinking a different line of questioning might be more fruitful.

“Marentim,” Srin answered simply, “and, before that, a planet on the other side of the galaxy, near the Fodox Stellar Barrens.”

“And you were living near the Barrens for twenty years?”

“You’re not going to believe me but I can’t answer that because I don’t know.”

In the silence that followed, Moon surged to her feet.

“I need our belongings,” she said. “It contains…medication. Important medication.”

Tamlan’s gaze swivelled in her direction. “For you?”

Moon hesitated.

“For me,” Srin remarked. “For a condition I have.”

Tamlan frowned. “What sort of condition?”

Moon and Srin shared another speaking glance. What should they tell the man? Did they even have a choice?

“Did the Republic see your shuttle leave Marentim?” Moon asked suddenly.

Tamlan snorted and, behind him, Moon saw the white-skinned woman shift from one foot to another. “Mr. Cenredi may be an irresponsible joy-rider,” he said, “but he’s not stupid.”

At Moon’s still puzzled look, he sighed. “No, we did not think it necessary to inform the Republic that our shuttle was leaving the surface of planet Marentim.” He clearly enunciated each word, as if speaking to a child. Moon’s lips tightened.

She might not like the man, but at least he was on their side. Or, at a minimum, not on the Republic’s side.

“And did you say you were a pirate?” she asked, sweetly.

Tamlan’s eyes blazed. “We’re not pirates, let’s get that straight. This ship is part of the ST Alliance.” The woman shifted again, and the sound she made must have been enough for him to hear because he held up a hand. “Okay, for the time being, this ship
is
the ST Alliance.”

“And what exactly,” Srin asked, “is the ST Alliance?”

Tamlan cocked his head. It made him look younger, more boyish, but Moon couldn’t get beyond his abrasive personality.

“You’ve never heard of us?” he repeated.

“No.”

“Well, if I ever get a swollen ego…,” he muttered. He was silent for a little while longer, obviously gathering his thoughts.

“The ST Alliance,” he finally said, “is an organisation that’s ultimately geared towards the destruction of the Republic.”

Moon’s eyes widened. Had she heard that correctly?

“The destruction of?” she repeated.

“That’s right. History has shown that ourgovernment was founded on corruption, has run on corruption and, instead of good sense asserting itself, continues to run on corruption.” His voice softened. “For our part, humans have committed genocide on other species, subjugated entire planets, destroyed cultures…experimented with alien species. It’s got to stop and somebody has to take a stand.”

“And that’s you?” Srin asked. “In this ship?”

Tamlan’s lips twisted at the tone of disbelief in Srin’s voice. “We’ve had our ups and downs,” he grudgingly conceded. “Let’s just say that, for the moment, we’re in the middle of a regrouping strategy.”

It all seemed too good to be true. While running away from a mercenary trader who thought to exploit Srin’s abilities, they had fallen in with a vehemently anti-Republic group? Was Tamlan genuine about what he was saying, or was he some kind of unhinged fanatic?

He looked from one of them to the other and incredulity filled his face. “You don’t believe me.” He turned to one side. “Saff?”

“Yes, Quinten Tamlan?”

Moon didn’t know anything about the actual relationship between the scarred man and the woman, but it was obvious from their body language that there was a bond between them and it was deep and mutual. The use of the woman’s name wasn’t to relay a command but to ask for support. And the woman moved instantly, balancing on balled feet, ready to spring into action the moment Tamlan said a word. They seemed a well-matched pair in one way, starkly different in another.

“Maybe we can show our guests some history files,” he said slowly. “If they’ve really been off the nets for so long, there’s a lot they need to catch up on.”

“Yes, Quinten Tamlan.”

“What’s the time?”

“Eleven, shiptime.”

“Join us for a meal at nineteen hours,” he told the pair as he turned to go. “We’ll discuss more then.”

Chapter Fourteen

“There’s something strange about this vessel,” Srin remarked.

The woman called Saff had led them further into the ship. Where they had previously descended into a converted storage room, they were now ushered upwards, into what looked like accommodation quarters. With minimal words, Saff instructed them to sit, then she programmed a console with a selection of vid files.

Srin supposed that he could have made an attempt to jump the tall humanoid when her back was turned, but what were he and Moon to do after that? Neither of them was skilled in piloting a space-faring vessel. It was so frustrating. They had enough money to buy a ship, but they didn’t have the knowledge to pilot one. He felt anger build up in him, akin to what Moon had described back in their cramped quarters in Gauder’s tank. Were the two of them destined to always rely on the goodwill of others? Were they never going to get the opportunity to forge their own path?