“Who said you paid?”
“Stands to reason. What have I got, now? Ship-debt? A contract I’m supposed to have signed? My passport in the ship’s safe?”
“Be polite. You were on my account.”
That—was a surprise. He didn’t know what it meant.
Austin just stared for a few heartbeats. Tapped the stylus on the desk. “I really,” Austin said, “could have hauled you back.”
“I’ve no doubt. “ He didn’t want to be in Austin’s debt. He preferred Christian’s. Saby’d said, go to it, don’t worry. Now he didn’t know what she’d gotten him into.
“Saby said give you space,” Austin said, and leaned back. “She said you’d come back. Funny thing, she was right.”
“She’s not stupid. “ He didn’t want to think ill of Saby. Didn’t want to think he’d been conned. Couldn’t, in fact, believe she’d been head-hunting. “I hadn’t a choice. You knew it.”
“She said you were shy. Nice guy.”
“Sure.”
“She wants to bunk with you. I think she’s crazy, myself.”
Silence hung there a moment, and breath came thin and short. “Maybe. “ Another oxygen-short breath. Desperate thinking. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. She doesn’t know me. Dockside and here is different.”
“I’ll tell you something. Nobody much tells Saby what she’s thinking. Makes her mad.”
He didn’t know how to read Austin. He began to prefer the Austin who’d knocked him against a wall. Safer. Much.
“Look, you don’t owe me. You don’t give a damn. You know what my post is, you’ve got my papers, you’re not going to put me anywhere near ops—any ops, because I’m good, when I want to be, and I can screw it, so let’s not kid ourselves. Galley scrub’s all you can trust me to do, that’s all I want out of you, so just let me the hell alone, and let’s not complicate anything.”
“You’re bound to be a problem.”
“Yes, I’m a problem. I’ll be a problem. I was born a problem. “ Shortness of breath made him light-headed, slowed things down, numbed the nerves. “Did you ever remotely think, maybe making a life ought to be worth at least as much thinking as taking one? Did it ever bother you?”
“You think of that last night?”
“I didn’t have to think; I know I’m safe, right now, since before Viking, and it takes two, mister. I didn’t get Saby pregnant, except by cosmic chance, and two sets of implants failing.”
“She had the same choice. Saby did. Your mama did.”
“So did you. And, yeah, so did she. You were out there looking for your personal immortality, she was, too, and, God save us, you got me, and here I am. Now what? Now where do we go?”
Austin was glumly sober for a moment. Then the mouth made a tight smile, and a laugh that died.
“You want an answer to that question? Or just an echo?”
“Is there an answer?” If there was one… he hadn’t gotten it from Marie. Not from Mischa. Not from Lydia and not from the seniors in general. It didn’t mean he was going to believe one from Austin. But he waited.
“You’re going to say the hell with you,” Austin said. “Still want it?”
“That the line you handed my mother?”
Another grim laugh. “I should have. No question. You’re right about the immortality. Ships were dying. Every time you got to port, there were gaps in the schedules, the Fleet was going to hell, you couldn’t get those numbers, but we knew. We were running supply. We had our network. We saw the wall coming.”
“Damn Mazianni spotters.”
“Suppliers.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Damn right there’s a difference. The Fleet paid us for what we hauled. It wasn’t even in our economic interest to promote raids on anybody—we knew they were conscripting, and we knew they wouldn’t take any of ours while we were running their cargoes; but we knew which ships were raiding, too, and we didn’t like going near them, let alone give them a way not to need us, does it take a thought? We didn’t give them information. But where we got them legitimate supply they didn’t have to raid merchant traffic. Safer for them. Faster. Left them free for military operations. We kept them supplied—there weren’t raids.”