Deena looked embarrassed. “With apologies, my Lord, I forgot my place.”
“No.” He grimaced as he tried to shift position without dislodging any of the various tubes that ran in and out of him. “I forgot mine, which is horizontal in a bed with a hole through my chest. I am tired, but I do have business with Captain Clancy that can’t wait.”
Both Deena and Paxton looked unhappy.
“I’ll make it brief. Besides, you people look like you need rest as much as I do. I know you lost friends on the DropShip. So did I. Go take some personal time.”
Deena’s eyes clouded slightly when he mentioned lost friends, and he noticed the muscles of Ulysses’ jaw clench. She nodded, and headed for the door. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”
Ulysses didn’t move. “With respect, Lord Governor, it would be better if I stayed with you. I’ve disgracefully subjected you to too much danger already.”
“You’re not my mother, Ulysses. I put myself in danger, and you scramble to get me out. My job is always easier than yours”—he grinned—“and I’m better at it.”
He looked at Captain Clancy, who stood at the foot of his bed. “Ulysses, do you trust this man?”
Ulysses blinked. “Yes, Lord Governor, I believe I do.”
“Captain Clancy, am I safe here?”
“Doc is the best sawbones in the merchant fleet. He’s patched me and my crew together from worse than the likes of you. I’ve got two of my most loyal men outside watching the door, and except for a dozen or so short-timers who haven’t proved themselves yet, I’d trust my life with any of my crew.”
Clancy nodded. “Yeah, you’re safe here as you can be.”
Aaron bobbed his head in the direction of the door. “Go. Sleep. You’re no good to me the way you are, Ulysses. Don’t come back till you’re halfway presentable.”
Paxton nodded and reluctantly headed for the door. He stopped in the door to inspect the two guards and, apparently satisfied, made his leave.
Doc looked at Clancy. “Captain, he should rest.”
Clancy waved him away. “Don’t you got some pills to go try out or something? Let us talk a minute, then I’ll get out.”
The doctor shrugged and wandered into an adjacent office cubicle.
“As I said, Captain, you’ve set your price, and you’ll get paid.”
“Aye, you can bet your blue blood that I will. But that’s not what I’m here to talk about.”
“I owe you a debt beyond that, Captain. You saved my life out there, all our lives. I don’t know if I’d have done the same thing in your place.”
“I can’t say I know you well enough to judge that. I had my reasons.”
“Beyond money?”
“Reason enough, but it was a chance to give it to those bastards on New Canton who screwed me.”
“I don’t understand.”
Clancy waved his hand like he was swatting a mosquito. “Long story. They impounded my scheduled cargo. It takes a lot of C-Bills to lift this big tub, and I can’t afford to go running empty.”
“You’ve got paying passengers now, Captain. Do you mind passengers?”
“Machine parts, they don’t talk back, complain about the chow, or try to tell me how to run my ship.”
“It sounds like they also barely pay the bills, Captain. Tell me, how’d you like to sell your ship?”
“Sell? The Tyrannos Rex?”
“What’s an Excalibur worth these days? Seven hundred fifty mil?”
“The Rex, she’s worth more. Like your buddy Ulysses says, she ain’t what she seems.”
“Nine hundred mil?”
“She’s not for sale.”
“A Gigabill? Surely she’s not worth more than that.”
“She ain’t for sale!”
“Mind you, I’d want to hire you and your entire crew to stay on.”
“She ain’t for sale, blue blood. Some things ain’t got a price.”
“That hasn’t been my experience, Captain. Besides, you’ve got bills to pay, and once we leave, you’re right back where you started, except that you’re no longer welcome on New Canton.”
“She’s not for sale.” He leaned back and licked his lips. “She’s for hire though, if the price is right.”
Aaron smiled. Negotiations had opened. “I’d need a long-term contract. You give me reasonable numbers and I won’t say no.”
“Contract? To haul what to where?”
“To haul me, to wherever.”
“This isn’t some bloody pleasure yacht, Sandoval. The grub is good, but plain, and the beds are soft, but the cabins are small. You think you can live with that?”
“I’ve had worse, Captain, believe it or not. The accommodations will do for now, but I’ll be putting in some new ones as soon as circumstances allow.”
“You ain’t hacking into my ship.”
“In a cargo hold then. One for my quarters, one for ’Mechs and vehicles, one for supplies and consumables. Maybe you can still haul some cargo on the side.”
Clancy looked skeptical. “And I get to haul you all over the Sphere?”
“That’s the plan. Good pay, dependable work.”
“What about the ship?”
“Ulysses says she’s good. So do you.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed. “She could be better. I got lots of ideas I just ain’t been able to afford. Better weapons, armor, upgraded systems all over. I take you on board, half the galaxy is going to be gunning for us. I got to know we’ll have what it takes to survive.”
“That and more. No expenses spared.” Aaron extended his hand. “Shall we shake on it?”
Clancy just looked at his hand. “I’ll sleep on it and get back to you.” He turned toward the door, then hesitated. “Until then, where are we going, Duck?”
6
DUKE SANDOVAL LIVES!—In an exclusive holorecording obtained by an INN Courier-Newscorrespondent on Liao, the Duke himself appeared to deny erroneous reports of his own death. Expert analysis of the holo leaves little doubt that it is genuine, and the content makes it clear that it was recorded after his alleged death.
Sandoval reports that he survived the crash of his flagship with only “minor injuries.” He described the incident as a “bungled assassination attempt, indicative of the disorder and lack of central control that has infected Prefecture V, and now Prefecture VI as well. While I must return to Prefecture V and continue the struggle there against the Liao incursion, the threatened people of Prefecture VI should know that when the time is right, I will return to their aid.”
Fortress–class DropShip Madras
SwordSworn Fleet Staging Area, near Pleione jump point
Prefecture V, The Republic
20 October 3134
Erik Sandoval floated down the corridor of the DropShip, warning Klaxons echoing in his ears as he pulled himself hand-over-hand toward the bridge. More experienced crew members, easily identifiable by their orange coveralls, rocketed past him in all directions, gracefully pushing off at one end to sail the length of a corridor, bouncing skillfully from wall to wall in a zigzag pattern, or simply scrambling along them like hyperactive spiders.
Erik was still getting his space legs, and could never hope to be as proficient as these people who almost lived in space. He was content to hand-walk along, being passed like a ninety-year-old man on the hoverway.
“Unscheduled JumpShip arriving in two minutes,” the captain’s amplified voice echoed through the ship. “All hands to emergency stations. This is no drill.”
This was another of the unfortunate results of the collapse of the HPG network. Now, unless arrangements were made far in advance, every incoming ship was “unscheduled,” and therefore a matter of concern, given the current state of war.
The ship could be friend, foe, or neither—and even if it was an enemy, the old traditions might allow it to slide past without shots being exchanged. Still, the arrival of any unexpected ship created tension, and was cause for a full alert, just in case.