TriPoint, a Union Alliance novel by Caroline J. Cherryh

“Screw you,” Capella said, a little down the corridor, but clear as clear. “I don’t owe you, Chrissy, don’t try to pull that string. You won’t like what comes up with it.”

He held his breath. He didn’t know why. There was violence in the air.

Christian said, then, “You let him alone, Pella. That’s the bottom line. You keep your hands to yourself.”

“Sure,” Capella said. “Sure.”

That left him chilled, that did. He didn’t want to be the focus of a feud—let alone on this ship, with his half-brother, and that woman.

We were just talking, he wanted to yell, the age-old protestation. But he didn’t think the pair down there gave a damn for his opinion.

—vii—

NO MECHANICALS. NO PROBLEMS since they’d dropped into Tripoint. They had to take the v down all the way to system-inertial, with the load they had, which was a shame, because there was a real reason, in Austin’s opinion, to make a little haste through the jump-point, in this dark navigation sink between the stars; reason, but not reason enough that they shouldn’t take time to run the checks and catch their breaths.

A good few days, he figured, before Sprite could get itself tanked and loaded—which was some respite before they had to worry about Sprite being on their tail.

But they well might be, by now. He didn’t put it past Marie Hawkins. And he didn’t bet the cargo officer couldn’t move Sprite in her own directions.

Knock on his office door. He was on a costing calculation, on various options. Inputting. He didn’t want interruption.

But the knocker also had the private key-code; the door opened without him keying it from the desk.

“‘Scuse,” Saby said, easing in against the wall. “Minute?”

He held up two fingers. Generosity.

“Thomas Hawkins?” Saby began.

One finger. Well-chosen.

“Talked to him,” Saby said. “You said.”

“Minute and a half,” he said.

“Not attitudinal. Smart. Scared. Says the bunk’s lousy but he likes the food.”

“Fine. He won’t starve.”

“I really think you should talk to him. At least once. You’ll always wonder.”

“Damn your dockside psych. No, I won’t always wonder.”

“He’s not what you think.”

“That’s twice. Fifteen seconds.”

“Scared of him?”

“Five.”

“Ignorance killed the cat, sir, curiosity was framed.”

“Time’s up.”

“Yes, sir,” Saby said. And slid out the door and shut it.

Kid had an uncanny knack: she said a hire was trouble, and trouble was what happened. She said an unlikely guy was all right and got them the best cargo pusher they’d had. She said take this woman, and he hadn’t listened, and the guy that they had taken instead, they’d been especially sorry of, down to finding him a permanent situation.

Now Saby went and stuck her young nose in a damned sensitive problem. Who set Saby to evaluating that personnel acquisition? Who assigned her downside, anyway? Saby wasn’t even on-shift.

Spare time occupation. And he could live without seeing Marie Hawkins’ kid. He could sleep at night without it.

He could sleep at night seeing the kid to the same permanent occupation the last machinist’s mate had found. The universe had nooks to put things in. Slam the door shut and the hell with the problem. Marie Hawkins had contributed genes to the kid. Maybe arranged for him to get aboard, put him up to it, who knew? One determined fool could do a lot of damage to a ship before they caught him at it.

Com beeped. “Austin,” he said.

“You’re not afraid of him,” Saby’s voice said.

“You’re on double watch, damn you!”

“Yes, sir,” Saby said. And cut the com connection.

* * *

Chapter Five

Contents – Prev/Next

—i—

“CHRISSY-SWEET,” THE ARGUMENT in the corridor wound up, “if I want to go I go. If I want to stay I stay. You want me to go is not the question here. It is never the question. Not here. Not dockside. Capish?”

“I understand. I understand damned well. Go to hell!”

Things had gotten very far from reason. Tom sat still on his bunk and let the firefight go on without his input.

But Capella lingered, strayed to the brig frontage to lean on the cross-bars and smile sweetly.

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