“That’s why you left the Star?”
“No,” she said wearily. Her mouth hardened. “I left, Thorson. I wasn’t kicked off. I’ve given reasons why. If you don’t choose to believe them, well, that’s nothing much to either of us, is it?”
Dane decided to try one more tack, although he doubted he would accomplish anything. If the Medic was playing them false, she had thought her role through thoroughly. She had not lacked an answer yet for any question they had put to her. Even Van Rycke and Jellico had not been able to trap her or trip her up.
“By the sound of it, you had some real credits at your disposal on the Roving Star. Have you been on your own so long that you’re completely wiped out?” He felt uncomfortable asking that. It was none of his business and crossed the border into discourtesy by a considerable margin. Cofort would be within her rights to tell him to go fire his burners someplace.
The woman frowned but kept rein on her temper. “No, I haven’t been on the loose that long. The bulk of my former earnings as well as my inheritance from my father are hatching in the Star’s account. Teague wouldn’t release them.”
“What?”
For the first time, she gave him a genuine smile. “He’s not a villain of the starlanes. Everything’s sitting quite properly in a trust. My brother’s not using it. He can’t. He’s just holding it until I latch onto a permanent berth.”
“You’re out of your minority.”
“I know, but those are the terms of the trust. Besides, there isn’t that much involved. We Coforts pour most of our shares of everything back into our ships.” Her head rose. “You don’t think we got where we are without considerable dedication and sacrifice, do you?”
“No. Cofort and his crews are known for that, but . . .”
“But nothing. I wanted to make it on my own, and I’d be begging to be back-alleyed if I went wandering around the starlanes with too impressive a roll. It’s worked out. I haven’t starved even if I haven’t managed to prove myself the greatest phenomenon to bless Trade in this century.”
The woman laughed softly, ruefully. “I suppose I was sort of cherishing that hope, but you can probably imagine how fast I had to flush it down the disposal tubes.”
Dane chuckled despite himself. “You may do it yet,” he told her as he sighed inwardly. She had managed it again, he thought, turned the discussion completely away from questions uncomfortable to herself. He was not surprised, at least. Rael Cofort had proven remarkably adept at doing that since she had first brought herself to the attention of the crew of the Solar Queen. Only time would show whether or not she was using that skill to cover some sort of bad surprise she had planned for the lot of them.
17
The three apprentices, Jasper, and Rael were at the table when Jellico and Van Rycke strode into the mess the following morning. The Medic had Sinbad on her lap, cradled against her left arm. He was eating daintily from her other hand, which she held cupped before him.
“I thought he was beginning to look a little rotund,” Miceal remarked.
Rael glanced up. “He’s a hero again, fortunately an unwounded one this time. Someone,” she added pointedly, “was careless about reattaching the nets properly when he returned to the ship last night”
“Ouch,” muttered the Cargo-Master.
Weeks put down his fork. “Any good leads?” He had been with the Solar Queen a long time, and he knew full well that these two would not have been abroad in the wee hours merely to sample the kind of delights Happy City had to offer.
Van Rycke’s eyes danced like Terra’s sky on a sunny day. “A charter, my friends, a nice, fat, easy charter that’ll completely fill our bulk cargo holds.”
“What’re we carrying and to what port?” Dane asked eagerly.
“Equipment and chemicals to the dome mines on Riginni.”
He held up his hands when the faces of the four men at the table fell. “I’m not overjoyed, either, at the thought of revisiting her again so soon, but it’s a good run, and there could be at least a couple of others like it if we move fast enough.”
He lowered his large frame into the chair nearest him.
“We encountered one Adroo Macgregory, who is founder, president, chairman of the board, and just about High King of Caledonia, Inc. That’s the biggest conglomerate on Canuche. He’d already realized there was a fine market for his products in those new mines and had personally arranged via transceiver a large sale of everything from digging and crushing equipment to construction materials to chemicals of various sorts. He’s eager to move fast, before some competitor can edge him out. There’s no time to buy or license a freighter long-term, so he was planning to utilize several of those currently in port for his initial few runs. After witnessing the stampede Rael started in the market yesterday, though, Macgregory decided to give the Queen a shot at the whole charter, on condition that we’re prepared to accept delivery and lift within the next couple of days. We carry through on that, and we’ll get the work as long as we’re willing to take it and he’s still hiring independents, which he does warn won’t go on forever.”
He fixed the woman with a wicked grin. “Our agreement’s only verbal as yet. He won’t actually seal it until he has our Doctor Cofort present as well.”
Seeing the mischief on the pair, Rael merely arched her brows. “Now that’s a remarkable display of pure democracy!” she declared. “Imagine wanting not only the Solar Queen’s most exalted officers but also a lowly unskilled hand to officiate at so important a transaction!”
Jellico chuckled. “Actually, Macgregory wants to make a change in your employment status. He intends to offer you a place in his sales organization.”
“He what?” she asked, simultaneously trying unsuccessfully to silence her companions’ laughter with an impatient wave of her hand.
“That’s absolutely correct,” the Cargo-Master affirmed.
“He claims that anyone capable of bringing two of his staid close competitors to the brink of fisticuffs—his word—by the mere act of waving a piece of cloth around in the air a few times could do good work in advancing the cause of Caledonia, Inc. — Seriously, Rael, he recognizes precisely what you did and promises that if you’re willing and show both ability and industry, you’ve got an excellent future with his company.”
“Why tell my superiors that he plans to bid for my services?” she inquired bluntly.
“He wants to avoid acquiring a reputation of being an underhanded dealer and scaring off potential interstellar customers. Besides,” Jellico added, “he probably doesn’t think he’s got much real chance of luring you away from us. Space hounds just don’t like quitting the starlanes, however good the offer.”
“Not for a planet like Canuche of Halio, at any rate,” she agreed firmly and with considerable feeling. “When’re we meeting with him?”
“Noon. He’s buying us lunch in one of Canuche Town’s most exclusive restaurants, the Twenty-Two, down by the waterfront, so don’t do too good a job on those syntheggs and sausage.”
“No fear of that. I loaded up for Sinbad’s sake, not mine.”
Ali leaned against the padded backrest of the bench enclosing the table on three sides. “Now that that’s settled,” he drawled, “there remains a possibly intriguing tale to be told. No one made any mention of ‘fisticuffs’ yesterday.”
“We’d left by then,” the Captain told him. “We met Deke Tatarcoff on our way back to the Queen, and he confirmed that there was not one but several near battles before the Thornen silk found a home.”
“He was one happy man,” Van Rycke said as he picked up the story. “He got absolute top price for the bolt and then sold the little examination length for very nearly the same sum. Everything else went as well, albeit at a more reasonable price. He claimed all he’s got left are a couple of scraps of lint and declared that if he’d found them in time, he’d probably have moved those as well.”
Jellico placed the small delicate-cargo box he had been carrying on the table and reverently lifted two bottles out; of it. “From Tatarcoffs private stock. — You’re the one who earned them, Rael. You decide their fate.”
The woman eyed the labels. Wine. Hedon vintage, golden white, dry, and the vineyard was good enough that she recognized the name. They would have no trouble trading this if they chose.
She shook her head. No. Deke was a connoisseur of wine. His personal supply was legendary, and he maintained it strictly for his own pleasure, not for sale or barter.
These bottles had been given in that spirit, and she felt they should be used accordingly. “We’re worth an occasional luxury. We’ll turn them over to Frank and see what he can produce to accompany them. He should enjoy that challenge, especially here on-world where he can get his hands on fresh produce.”