Dark Beneath the Moon (50 page)

When she seemed satisfied with my checkup, she sat on the side of the bed and asked, “So, how do you really feel?”

“A little tired still, but better. Everything working the way it should, now?”

She nodded. “I’m still not sure what it was about the activator drive that made the bioscavs malfunction—or even if that was really it. Correlation isn’t causation, even though the two do appear to be connected. I need to do more research—particularly if we want to start getting the bioscavs out to people in Nearspace and we’re actually going to be investigating this new ghosting technology. We can’t have any incompatibilities.”

“We might have other more pressing things to worry about,” I said. “What do you think will happen with PrimeCorp?”

Mother shifted in the chair and clasped her hands. “It’s premature to speculate—but they certainly have some tough questions to answer, considering the information and evidence you delivered.”

“I keep thinking they’ll still find a way to wiggle out of this somehow. That’s what really makes me angry. They always manage to get away with things.”

“Maybe not this time. They might have finally overplayed their hand. This thing with the Chron—”

“Alin Sedmamin and his directors will deny everything. It happened long ago, or he didn’t know about it, or it’s somebody else’s fault . . .”

She smiled. “Even so, I’ll bet he’s not sitting very comfortably in that Chairman’s seat.”

“Maybe.” I smoothed the coverlet over my legs, very aware of the note Hirin had given me tucked next to my leg. “Mother, who is Berrto Sord?”

Mother raised her eyebrows. “Berrto Sord? Do you remember when you first found me, I told you how I’d taken my research and run from PrimeCorp, when we found out how they planned to use it?”

I nodded.

“And that the other researchers had agreed never to give their data over, either? But there was one colleague who wasn’t on board. I had to use some creative persuasion—call it blackmail, if we’re being honest—to convince him not to cooperate with PrimeCorp.”

“Berrto Sord?”

“Berrto Sord. But he died years ago. Why bring him up?”

I sighed. “Because of this.” I pulled the note out from underneath the coverlet and gave it to her.

She read it and returned her eyes to me, her brows drawn together. “I don’t get it.”

So I told her the story of our encounter with Jahelia Sord, who’d gone from annoyance to slick PrimeCorp operative to—something else, in a short space of time. I told her what Sord had done for us—for me—and how I’d convinced Hirin to let her go. What I knew of her family, and the files she’d left behind.

Mother’s eyes were wide by the time I’d finished, and she shook her head. “I can’t believe he stole the bioscavs—injected his family—”

“Did exactly what you did?” I said wryly.

She blinked at me and relaxed, laughing a little. “Well, yes.”

“Do you think Jahelia Sord got a different version of the story from him? She was very—hostile, when we first encountered her.”

“No doubt. Berrto Sord probably thought I ruined his life. But he wasn’t exactly lily-white or there’d have been nothing for me to hold over his head. And I still believe what I did was for the good of everyone in Nearspace.” She got up and walked to the window, gazing out at the inviting expanse of the mansion’s back gardens. “But I guess I’d say that, wouldn’t I? And he’d tell the story his way.”

“Were they Erian? She wore the
pridattii.
”

“Not that I recall. She might have been wearing them as a disguise.”

“That’s what I thought. But it doesn’t make much sense, to disguise herself and then give me her real name. I think she thought I’d recognize it when she told me.”

Mother sighed. “I don’t know. I’m sorry I made another enemy for you, Luta. I never thought my actions would have such far-reaching consequences.”

I got out of the bed and joined her at the window, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. And—I don’t know if I’d call her an enemy; at least not now. I mean, she had chances to do me harm—probably more than I know. That might have been her original plan, but I think maybe, somewhere along the line, it changed. She helped out when we needed her. And she probably saved my life in the end. Certainly helped, anyway.”

“Her own life was on the line some of those times, the way you tell it,” she said.

“I know, but—I can’t put my finger on it. She turned out to be more complex than I thought at first. She was an enemy—and an ally. I don’t know which she is now, I guess.”

Mother leaned over to kiss my forehead. “Well, try not to worry about it,
okej
?
You’ll recover faster if you’re not worrying. And you might never see her again.”

A shiver prickled across my skin, and I retreated to the bed and the comforting weight of its covers. “Oh, I doubt that. I doubt that very much. But no, I won’t worry about it. If Jahelia Sord wants to find me, I have a feeling that she will. I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

She smiled. “Now, get a good sleep tonight, and maybe you can join us for breakfast in the morning.”

I nodded. “I think I will.”

A WEEK LATER
we were on the
Tane Ikai,
heading out from Kiando with a cargo load of ore bound for Eri. We’d each spent hours sitting with a Protectorate officer who took our depositions, telling them the whole story—or as much of it as we were willing to tell. I wasn’t sure what to say about Jahelia Sord, so I said as little as possible, painting her as a minor PrimeCorp flunky, which I think she was. I don’t believe she had prior knowledge of all that PrimeCorp had done, and as for the files she had—well, she didn’t have to leave copies of them, but she did. If they wanted her take on things, they’d have to find her themselves. They had the datapad she’d left, and I was sure it would take them a while to sort through that treasure trove of evidence.

The Protectorate had also paid me well for our trouble, and I’d put that to use in a few more upgrades to the ship, and bonuses for the crew. They’d been through a lot. But we were running a far trader, after all, and even with the possibility of war darkening the horizon, that still meant carrying cargo where it needed to go.

Hirin and I were alone in our quarters, settling in to sleep, but the return to normal routine had, instead of settling my mind, rekindled old worries. We still hadn’t addressed the problem of exactly how we were going to run the command structure of this ship. But I had to work up to that.

“Anything new with PrimeCorp?” I asked, resting my head on Hirin’s chest. “I keep expecting to hear that a PrimeCorp-Chron fleet is pouring through one of the wormholes into Nearspace.”

He stroked my back, his hand warm through my sleepsuit. “I don’t think that’s imminent. The Corvids are still there, remember. And now the Protectorate knows what’s going on—or at least some of it. The politics will simmer and bubble while the Protectorate investigates. And once word gets out—”

“Which it’s bound to do,” I interjected.

“Yes. Then there’ll be an uproar like Nearspace has never seen. But it’s hard to say when that will happen, or what the ultimate fallout will be.”

“I don’t like to think of those Chron—the PrimeCorp allies—out there hating us. Trying to find a way into Nearspace like angry wasps outside a screen door. I don’t like that at all.”

“At least we know not all Chron are like that now. And I don’t like it either, but we have to live with it.” He kissed the top of my head. “Kind of like our own little problem.”

I propped myself up on an elbow and forced myself to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to give up being the Captain of the
Tane Ikai
,” I said, and felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. At last, I’d come right out and said it.

He nodded. “And I’m not comfortable being nothing but a tagalong on the ship.”

“You were never that!”

“Sure I was,” he said, rolling over to stare up at the viewport above us, and lacing his fingers behind his head. “I made up a job for myself so that you could deal with the crisis, but I never felt like I belonged in it. It’s not like we have a need for a full-time weapons officer on board.”

“We might before too long, if PrimeCorp has its way.”

“I hope not. I’d rather not get a job that way.”

I lowered myself down beside him, staring up at the stars. He slipped an arm under my shoulders. “Although it has come in handy,” I mused. “We don’t seem to stay out of trouble for very long, since you came back on board.”

He shook me a little at that, and I laughed. It felt good. Finally I said, “So we have to find a way to run a far trader with two Captains on board, is that what you’re telling me?”

I felt, more than heard, him chuckle. “Seems that way. Think it’s possible?”

I drew a deep breath and hugged him close, feeling the smooth steady hum of the drives, knowing we were, finally, in the right place at the right time.

“Well, we made it work when things were the worst,” I said. “Surely we can come up with something when we’re not in the middle of a crisis. I think anything’s possible,” I added, “as long as I’m with you.”

Baden had the night duty tonight, and his voice came over the ship’s comm. “Captain, message incoming for you. Admiral Lanar Mahane, of the NPV
S. Cheswick
.”

I sensed, more than saw, Hirin’s smile. “Well. I wonder what my little brother wants now?”

“Just checking in? Or preparing to ask another favour for the Protectorate?”

“I’m not agreeing to anything, not until we’ve had a rest. I can’t believe he’d even do that—but knowing Lanar, he might. I’m not willing to take the risk. Baden, tell my brother I’m asleep, would you? I’ll message him tomorrow.”

“No problem, Captain.”

I grinned at Hirin, and he chuckled and kissed my forehead. Whatever Lanar wanted, whatever PrimeCorp or the Chron might bring tomorrow, it felt far away from us tonight. We settled in to sleep while the stars slipped past outside our ship.

“
PITA? ANY RESPONSE
yet from our contact at Genusana?” I asked. I kicked my feet up on the main console of the
Hunter’s Hope
—or rather, the
Shadow’s Eclipse,
as her newly forged papers and new drive signature proclaimed her to be—and blew on my
cazitta
to cool it.

“Came in while you were getting your drink,” Pita said. “He’s doubling his offer if you’ll sign a statement stating exactly where and how you obtained the tech.”

“
Kristos.
This guy must be new to the black market. He thinks we actually
sign
things?”

Pita blew out a very human-sounding sigh. “He did say double, Jahelia. He probably wants some kind of assurance that you didn’t steal it from another corporation.”

I surveyed the cockpit of my little ship, feeling more at home than I had in a long time—not since, if I’d admit it to myself, I’d felt, for a short time, like part of the crew of the
Tane Ikai
.

I shook myself, and put my focus back on my ship
.
It hadn’t even been all that difficult to get her back. A close-mouthed dealer who’d practically drooled over Maja’s shorted-out force field generator, even in its current sad shape—that had brought enough credits to get me back on my feet. A Protectorate friend who owed me a favour—a big favour—and could sneak me into the Protectorate’s impound yard on Renata. They’d hauled the
Hunter’s Hope
there, searched it and found nothing too interesting I guess, and consigned it to the back of the yard until someone could deal with it further. Once we made it inside, Pita had it back under my control within fifteen minutes, and I don’t even know if anyone noticed us leave. My stuff—including my
vazel
staff—was gone. That gave me a pang. But it could all be replaced.

Now I was looking for someone interested in the datachip the Corvids had given the Lobor historian, Cerevare. She’d left it behind in her quarters, and I’d had the presence of mind to search those quarters before anyone else on the
Tane Ikai
did. They were pretty taken up with getting the Captain to safety. I’d made a copy of the data for myself, and erased the chip itself. For now I was only selling the tech, but alien technology from a race that no-one even knew about yet? That alone was a treasure worth bargaining over.

“Well, if he’ll pay double for a signature, maybe there’s someone who’ll pay double without one.”

“PrimeCorp probably would,” Pita suggested. “They’ve got access to almost anything Chron, but not stuff from the crows.”