Finders Keepers (17 page)

Damn him.

The plaintive tones of her cabin’s intercom woke her. She climbed out of a muzzy-headed sleep, aching and disoriented. It took her a moment to slap the touchpad on the wall next to her bed.

“Elliot,” she croaked. She kicked the quilt off her legs.

“Captain, I have a Corporal Rimanava at the air lock.” Dezi’s voice was irritatingly chipper. “She would like to know if you care to join her for breakfast.”

Breakfast? The red numbers on her time panel showed ship’s time of 1800 hours. Dinner, her stomach told her.

She pushed her hand through her hair. She’d slept over six hours. “A minute, Dez.” She muted the intercom. “Lights.”

The illumination in her cabin increased, flickered, then steadied. Damned generator! What next?

She tabbed off the mute. “I fell asleep,” she told him. “I’m . . .” She peered in the mirror. Gods. She looked like she’d slept in a windstorm. But she was hungry.

“I’ll be a few minutes. Hell. Send her down to my cabin.” Farra Rimanava looked like an understanding sort. After all, she’d survived with Mitkanos as her uncle.

She’d dragged a clean T-shirt over her head and managed to do something with her short mop of thick hair when her cabin door chimed. “Come.”

Farra walked in, her long hair neatly braided, her gray uniform spotless.

Trilby grabbed her service jacket. Dark green and frayed on the cuffs. She returned the young woman’s smile.

“Welcome on board the
Careless Venture
. Sorry I didn’t meet you at the ramp. I just woke up.”

“Uncle Yavo says it takes full day to get body and station on same time,
vad?
”

“Usually I ignore station time. I hit too many of them.” Which was why spaceport pubs like Flyboy’s and stations bars in places like Bagrond prospered. Someone was always coming in, hungry and thirsty and looking for a good time. Or trouble. Which often turned out to be the same thing.

“You have seen many places, then? This I find fasten-ing. No.” Farra shook her head.

“Fascinating,” Trilby supplied, pulling on her jacket.

“Ah, yes! Fascinating. I need much to learn Standard. We have breakfast, share tea. You talk to me in Standard. Uncle Yavo says I learn much.”

“I’d like that, thanks.” She stepped into the corridor, motioned Farra ahead of her. They climbed the ladderway to the bridge corridor and found Dezi waiting by the hatch lock.

“I’m going with Corporal Rimanava to have some dinner. Or breakfast. If anyone comes looking for me—”

“Captain Tivahr was here several hours ago,” Dezi said.

Trilby froze. “While I was sleeping?” She’d given Dezi strict orders not to permit Tivahr on board. But she doubted that the DZ-9 would be able to stop him, if
the
Senior Captain of the
Razalka
really wanted access. So that meant he’d left of his own accord. She wondered why Dezi hadn’t called her.

“No. Before you returned,” the ’droid said. “But when you came back on board you said to hold all messages for at least two hours.”

Yes, she did. She remembered that now. Her eyes had been rapidly closing.

“And then when I checked on you, you were asleep. May I say I think you needed the rest? Besides, Captain Tivahr’s message did not appear to be urgent.”

“What message?”

“He said, ‘
Yav chera.
’ ” He looked at Farra. “Did I pronounce that correctly, Corporal? My linguistic chip does not contain many Zafharish parameters.”

Trilby leaned against the bulkhead and closed her eyes briefly. Her throat felt suddenly tight. She swallowed hard.

“Bastard!” she hissed.

“No,” Farra said, with a slight frown. “It does not mean that. It means—”

“I know what it means,” Trilby said hurriedly. She pushed herself away from the bulkhead, slapped at the hatch-lock release. The hatch slid sideways, letting in a gust of cool station air. “It means,” she said, as Farra stepped onto the ramp beside her, “that he’s not only a bastard, he’s a lying bastard.”

They threaded their way past station technicians and dockworkers in silence. But they were the only ones waiting for the lift. Farra spoke after the doors closed.

“He said this, when he pretends to be this Vanur person? He tells you, ‘
Yav chera
’?”

Trilby stared at the numbers flashing on the overhead readout. “Yeah,” she said after a moment, feeling her cheeks starting to burn.

Farra shook her head knowingly. “Maybe not tea then, Captain Elliot. I think, no, you need something stronger. Coffee? Or you like to try a glass of our famous Yaniran
fedka
?”

The Yaniran liquor was highly potent. Leonid let her try a sip once. It had made her eyes water.

“At breakfast?” Trilby asked with a wry smile.

“We have saying on my home station. When mizzet farts in air duct, high and low suffer stink.” She clasped her hand on Trilby’s shoulder. “Come. We go see Uncle Yavo. Drink a toast to farting mizzets. Then we go eat. Breakfast. Dinner. No matter.”

Drink a toast to farting mizzets? What the hell. It was the best offer she’d had in a long time.

Trilby folded the thick slice of bread in half and dunked it in her soup. “Looks like we got here just ahead of the crowd.” She motioned to a large group of black-uniformed personnel coming through the doors of the officers’ lounge.

Farra’s knife hesitated over her breakfast as she glanced up. “Not our people.”

“I know. Fleet.”

“Razalka,”
Farra said. She stabbed a thick chunk of fried fruit. “They are
Razalka
crew. See their . . .” And she shoved the fruit into her mouth, her free hand circling the emblem on her uniform.

“Insignia,” Trilby said. So this was crew from
his
ship. Interesting. After two glasses of
fedka
with Yavo Mitkanos, that information barely fazed her.

She nibbled on her bread. It was deliciously soggy.

“In-sig-ni-a.” Farra tested the word.

“How long have they been docked here?”

“Not docked.” Farra’s hand circled in the air this time.

Trilby nodded. “Synchronous orbit. We call it ‘sitting out,’ or ‘sitting out on skim.’ The big tri-haulers have to do that a lot. And if they’re in for more than a trike, we call them ‘shuttle sluts.’ ”

“Sluts?” Farra giggled wickedly.

“You know. Big ships have a lot of personnel. They suck up all the available shuttles.”

“Good language, your Standard!”

Trilby studied the group waiting at the replicators. She could see the difference now. It was more than just the design of the insignia. It was their spotless uniforms, their unmarred boots. Their datalyzers, weapons holstered perfectly as if they’d all been stamped out by the same machine.

It was also in the way they held themselves, backs straight, shoulders level, eyes straight ahead. Arrogance on the hoof.

And not a one of them was smiling.

Poor bastards.
She sipped her coffee.

Three more Fleet officers strolled in, and she immediately recognized they weren’t off the
Razalka
. For one thing, they strolled. For another, the two men and one woman were talking animatedly. They had Degvar emblems on their chests. And smiles on their faces.

They headed for her table, and only as she saw the widening smile on Farra’s face did she realize this wasn’t a chance meeting.

Farra introduced them. “My friend Lucho, his sister Leesa. And cousin Dallon.”

Lucho had a shy smile and the same thick brown hair as his sister. He unclipped two chairs from an empty table and dragged them over, locking his into place next to Farra.
So this,
Trilby thought,
is the reason she defends the Fleet to Uncle Yavo.

She shook his hand, then Leesa’s, while Dallon unclipped an empty chair from a table farther away. He hooked it to the decking between Trilby and Leesa.

“
Dasja
Captain.” He took the hand she offered, but instead of shaking it, brought it to his lips and brushed it with a light kiss.

His hair was a richer glossy brown than his cousins’ and he wore it long, pulled back into a tail and tied with a black cord. He was several years older. Mid thirties, Trilby guessed. Not boyishly cute—and she had to admit Lucho was cute—like his cousin. But attractive, in a rugged, almost roguish way.

“
Dasjon
Dallon.” She smiled and pulled her hand away.

He grinned, the craggy planes of his face softening. “You speak my language?”

“Badly.”

“We talk Standard,” Farra said. Trilby noticed she’d slipped her fingers through Lucho’s. “I need practice. I learn new word just now. Shuttle slut!”

“A useful term to know,” Dallon said. His accent was light compared to Farra’s, and he spoke Standard easily. “Especially if you want to get a good bar fight going.” He chuckled.

“Sounds like you’ve worked the Conclave.” Or else maybe the freighter lingo she knew wasn’t that unique after all.

Dallon winked at her. “I’ve worked many places.”

Lucho laughed. “Our illustrious cousin just gets promotion to supply-ship captain.”

He was, Trilby realized, somewhat her counterpart in the military. She turned, interested in learning more.

“It’s a good job,” Dallon said. He lay his hand on her left arm, leaned toward her conspiratorially. “You know why? Because no one shoots at a supply ship. And everyone wants to be my friend, to see what little goodies I have this trip.”

She could imagine Dallon at Flyboy’s. With his easygoing, good-natured personality, he reminded her of Chaser. It wouldn’t take long before everyone was his friend. Even there.

“I’ll bet the free samples you hand out make even more friends,” she said. When the cargo wasn’t solely your responsibility, it was easy to have a case here or there turn up missing. Later found, of course, in the captain’s personal quarters.

He chuckled, winked at her again.

“Captain Elliot.”

The lounge was noisy. She didn’t hear his approach. But she heard his final footstep, saw the tall shadow fall across the table. Heard the cold, authoritative tone in his voice.

Her heart thudded hard against her ribs for a few beats, then slowed to normal, as if the potent
fedka
had kicked in again. She drew a deep but quiet breath, pasted on her best professional captain smile, and looked up to her left. “Captain Tivahr.”

His face was impassive, and for a moment it was if she could find nothing of Rhis Vanur in him at all. But then something flickered in his eyes, something loosened the rigid line of his mouth. He was Rhis again. And he looked disappointed, like a child learning the circus had come and gone and he’d missed it.

Just as quickly, the rigidity was back. His lips thinned.

“Commander Jankova will need to talk to you. You will make yourself available at 0730.”

She bristled at his tone. Pompous bastard! What had Mitkanos called him? An arrogant rimstrutter. Try to intimidate her, would he? She tilted her face, let her mouth curve into a sly smile, didn’t bother to prevent the impudent tone that had annoyed him more than once from lacing her words. “Your place or mine?”

She saw the startled look in his eyes before they narrowed. “Commander Jankova will be at your ramp at 0730. Any delays on your part will not be viewed favorably.”

She almost rose to her feet and clocked him one across the mouth right then and there. Would have, if Dallon hadn’t been holding on to her arm.

“Let’s talk about delays,” she said, anger simmering under her words. “Let’s talk about who raped my ship’s primaries and totally disabled my engines. It wasn’t me, Tivahr. You want my cooperation? Then give me the Gods damned release codes.”

“This is how you help your friend Carina?” he countered harshly. “This is how much you care?”

Trilby sucked in her breath as if she’d been slapped. “Don’t you dare.” Her voice was deathly calm. “You lying, manipulative son of a bitch. Don’t you dare question my motives. Or by all I hold holy, you will regret the day you slithered out of that test tube and thought you could ever be a real man.”

He held her gaze for three very long, tense seconds. Then turned on his heels and strode stiffly for the doors.

13

“Do you think that was wise?” Farra Rimanava asked softly. She glanced at Lucho, then back to Trilby.

Trilby sagged against the hard back of her chair, let some of the roiling emotions drain out of her. “Of course not.” She gave Farra a wan smile. “But then, wise people don’t run freighter businesses with no funds and only a dilapidated Circura Two.” Nor do they, she knew, try to play finders keepers with a Zafharin officer dumped in their laps courtesy of the ’Sko.

She glanced toward the wide entrance of the lounge to see if he was really gone. He was, and no one around seemed to notice or care. Her brief verbal exchange with him hadn’t been audible to anyone other than those at her table.

“He has much power,” Leesa put in, with a nod to Farra.

“He also has some codes essential to Captain Elliot’s ship,” Dallon added.

Trilby looked at him. He’d removed his hand from her arm and now had both hands folded in front of him on the table. His jovial demeanor had turned serious.

“Or did I not hear correctly?” he asked her.

She nodded. “He hacked into my primaries. He told me, promised me, the only thing he changed was my Conclave ID to an Imperial one.” He’d promised her other things as well. Things she didn’t want to think about right now.

“And you thought that was all someone like Tivahr would do?” Lucho asked.

“He did not tell her he was Tivahr,” Farra answered, before Trilby could figure out where to start. “He told her his name was Vanur. And not a captain, no?”

“Lieutenant,” Trilby said. “He said getting back to the
Razalka
was urgent because of information he found on the ’Sko.”

“So he changed your primaries, forced you to come here?” Dallon asked.

“No, that’s not it at all.” She glanced at the frowning faces around her. Was it so inconceivable that she’d cooperated? “I came willingly. There never was any coercion”—well, at least, not after the incident in sick bay—“once he explained he’d been captured. Then, just after we left Avanar, I received a report that a friend’s freighter had been attacked by the ’Sko. She’s still missing.”

Leesa sighed softly. “That is the Carina mentioned?”

“Carina and her brother, Vitorio, of
Bella’s Dream
. He told me that the Empire might be able to help. So, no, he didn’t force me here, didn’t take over my ship in some wild gun battle. He . . .”
Seduced me. No. I seduced him.
“We worked together,” she amended, and damned the heat rising to her face again.

“Then why did he change your primaries?” Dallon asked.

“Damned if I know.”

“And why did he not give you the release codes when you arrived?” Lucho added.

Trilby shook her head. Then noticed Farra looking quizzically at her. But the young woman said nothing until they were alone in the corridor, her friends having departed with promises to get together again later.

“I go on duty shortly. But first I need to ask something, Captain Elliot.”

“Trilby. And what do you need to know?”

“
Vad.
Trilby. I need to ask, but you not need to answer, okay?” She stepped back against the bulkhead. They were a few feet from the entrance to the lounge and station crew filtering in and out in small groups. “These words, this message Tivahr left for you.”

Yav chera.
Trilby nodded hesitantly.

“This has special meaning. Between man and woman. It is not like ‘I want cup of tea.’ For that we say
yav chalka
about something. You know this, or not?”

“Sort of.”

“So a man does not say
yav chera
and then talk to that woman so cold the way I see now. At least, not in so short a time. You understand? It is not my business, but . . .”

Trilby crossed her arms over her chest and drew a deep breath. “If you’re asking if something happened between us, yes. But this Tivahr you see here isn’t the man I knew as Rhis Vanur.”

“Uncle Yavo thinks he force you.” Farra ducked her head a bit shyly. “To bed.”

“No, it was—Why would your uncle think that?” Why was Mitkanos even aware that something had happened between Tivahr and herself? Farra had only learned of Tivahr’s message an hour ago. And they’d seen Mitkanos, but spoken only in Standard. Had Tivahr said something, bragged about his sexual conquest?

“Because of several things. Because of what I tell him I see when Captain Tivahr watches the message you sent to your friend.”

“He viewed my message to Neadi?” Great! He probably suspected her of broadcasting Imperial secrets all over civilized space.

“He had big sad look on his face. And Lucho’s older brother works with Lieutenant Gurdan. And he hear Gurdan say Captain Tivahr has much concern for this Captain Elliot.”

Farra wagged her finger in Trilby’s face, as if reprimanding her. “Everything must be perfect for
Dasja
Trilby Elliot. Gurdan, he say other crew take you to communications to send message,
vad?
But Tivahr, no. He want top person. Who is security chief, he ask. He give orders to Gurdan. And Lucho’s brother, he hear this.
Dasja
Trilby has much value.”

Trilby bit her lip. “Because I know Jagan Grantforth?” she ventured.

Farra shrugged. “I know the Grantforth name, but not this person.”

“His family is GGA. His uncle’s a politician in the Conclave.”

“The way Tivahr looks at your face on screen, this does not look like politics.” Farra grabbed Trilby’s hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I must go. We will have tea later,
vad?
And things work out. You have friends here, Lucho and myself. Dallon. Leesa. And of course, Uncle Yavo.”

Trilby returned her friendly gesture, watched as Farra headed for the lift and merged with a small group of
Stegzarda
crew waiting there. Farra turned, waved as she stepped into the lift. Then the doors closed, and Trilby was left alone.

The time panel in the corridor read 0722. She had eight minutes to get back to the
Venture
for her meeting with Jankova. The
Razalka
’s commander, she knew with irritating certainty, would no doubt be early.

Two things surprised Trilby about Commander Jankova. The first was that Jankova was female. The second was that she was a genuinely pleasant person. Not stiff like Pavor Gurdan. And not overbearing and arrogant like Tivahr.

The interview went quickly. Forty minutes passed and Hana Jankova was standing, offering Trilby her hand.

“Your valuable time is appreciated, Captain Elliot.”

Trilby wasn’t one to whine, but she also wasn’t one to let an opportunity slip by. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go. Your captain’s locked me out of my own primaries. My ship’s dead. I’m stuck here until he decides otherwise.”

They stopped at the door to the
Venture
’s lounge.

“I wasn’t told anything about that.”

“Then he didn’t give you my release codes?”

“No.”

“Do you know if he intends to release me? Or should I start looking for work on a maintenance crew?” She didn’t bother to hide the bitterness in her voice. “I’ve already lost time, and the Gods only know how many cargo runs. I’ve got a ship to keep up and pay for. I’d appreciate it if you’d remind Captain High and Mighty Tivahr about that fact.”

She saw Hana Jankova’s mouth twitch into a small smile at her description. “I will inform the captain of your request.”

Trilby leaned against the open hatch lock as Jankova descended the short ramp. Maybe if enough people on Degvar learned what a bastard Rhis really was, they’d support her in a mutiny. The thought of rallying the
Stegzarda
and the Degvar Fleet techs temporarily cheered her. Maybe she’d even commandeer the
Razalka
. Mess around with a few of his command codes. Teach him what it felt like to have everything important in his life ripped away. To be at the mercy of someone who didn’t give a damn about his needs or existence.

She slammed the side of her fist against the hatchway rim and wished it was his smug face she hit instead.

Rhis slammed the side of his fist against the top of his desk. He wished he could slam it against Kospahr’s face, but he knew that action wouldn’t sit well with Emperor Kasmov.

“You are not in charge of this ship,” he told the portly man sitting diffidently in the chair in front of him. “I’m the captain. The senior captain, may I remind you. You have no authority—”

“And I’m Second Lord Minister of Defense, Senior Captain Tivahr. My cousin the emperor has empowered me to examine this situation. I have done so. I’ve read your report, and Gurdan’s. I’ve yet to see Commander Jankova’s, but that doesn’t matter.” He waved a fleshy hand. “I doubt it’ll change my mind. This Elliot woman can be used to bait the Ycsko faction. And trap Secretary Grantforth. And maybe even that weakling pup Jagan Grantforth. We’re looking at tearing open the Conclave, Tivahr. Breaking open GGA.”

“We have no definitive proof Grantforth, or GGA, is behind this. To take actions now based only on suspicion could risk—”

“This is worth any risk! We’re talking about accomplishing what even a war against the Conclave could not. You’d deny the Empire this victory? What kind of officer are you? Where are your loyalties?”

Rhis folded his hands on top of his desk, clenching them tightly. “I’m the best captain in the Fleet, and you bloody well know that. I’ve given my life to the Empire. But Captain Elliot is a Conclave citizen. You can’t demand she risk her life to take down her own government.”

“I can and I will. Her government is corrupt. And she’s in a position to expose that.”

“And if the ’Sko get to her first?”

Kospahr shrugged. “At that point, she’ll already have dragged Grantforth, or whoever is involved, out into the open. If the ’Sko get her, well, she’s only a bloody Indy. Of little value, other than she was Jagan Grantforth’s whore.”

Rhis shot to his feet. Blood pounded in his ears. He wanted to leap over his desk, throttle the man. “Don’t push me, Kospahr. You won’t win.”

His office comm trilled. He jabbed the touchpad. “Yes?” he bellowed as Jankova’s face appeared on the small screen angled into the top of his desk.

“Sir. I have my report on Captain Elliot.”

“Perfect timing,” Kospahr said smoothly.

“Send it here. To my private files,” he told Jankova, then flicked off the screen.

He glared down at Kospahr. “Get out, Lord Minister. I have work to do.”

He wondered if Trilby appreciated the fact that he was trying to save her life. He brought Jankova’s report on screen, paged past the requisite opening.

No, she probably didn’t appreciate it. She hated him. If he had any doubt of her emotional state before, that was gone after their conversation in the lounge on station.

Well, it wasn’t really a conversation. He’d ordered her to talk to Jankova, knowing damned well how she’d react. But he hadn’t liked that man’s hand on her arm, or the way he’d leaned so close to her. He’d glimpsed an insignia on the man’s black uniform. He was assigned to a Fleet supply ship. There were two in Degvar Station at the moment.

More than that Rhis didn’t know, didn’t care to know. Except he wanted that glorified shit-hauler away from Trilby.

Even if she hated him for doing so.

Jankova’s report was good. He could tell by Trilby’s answers that they’d gotten along. She was more open with Jankova than she had been with Gurdan. It might just be because Jankova was a woman, but he didn’t think so. People felt comfortable with Hana Jankova. She didn’t let her brilliant, incisive mind overshadow her heart.

Like he did.

But then, Jankova hadn’t, as Trilby so succinctly put it, slithered out of a test tube. She had a large, supportive family. A clan heritage.

And now Zak Demarik.

Rhis had a report to read. And an interfering second lord minister of defense to appease. And a whole other list of problems mentally filed away under the heading of
Trilby
that he couldn’t afford to look at right now.

Then he found the addendum to Jankova’s report. Captain Elliot would like to remind Captain High and Mighty Tivahr that he still had her release codes. And she had a ship to pay for.

The release codes. Kospahr wanted to use Trilby and her ship. But if Captain Elliot and her ship were no longer on station . . .

He slapped at the desk comm. “Prep my shuttle. Five minutes.” He made it in three and a half.

He listened as Dezi identified himself and the ship, then said the only words he knew would guarantee Trilby’s appearance. “Tell Trilby I have the release codes for her primaries.”

It didn’t take her long. The hatch lock slid open. She had the rifle slung over her shoulder. “This better not be some kind of game. I’m not in the mood.”

He recognized the T-shirt she was wearing as the one she’d worn that first day in sick bay. She had only five, all dark green. He knew that well. But this one had a small tear in the shoulder, and the strap of the rifle now pulled on it.

He dragged his mind back to more-pressing matters. Like getting her the hell off station as quickly as possible. “Requesting permission to come aboard, Captain,” he said quietly.