In The Hands Of Time
by
Ainy Rainwater
Copyright Idiolith, Idiolith Books, 2010
Smashwords Edition
E-ISBN: 978-0-9829597-0-1
Cover Art: Ainy Rainwater
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead, real places, or events is coincidental. Names of people, places and things are fictional and wholly imaginary, and should not be construed as having any relationship to people, places or things with similar names that may exist. As this is a work of science fiction, some "facts" presented are entirely fictional, eg: things exist in this imaginary future that do not exist in real life. The views expressed in this work of fiction serve the purpose of character and story and are not necessarily those of the publisher or the author.
In The Hands Of Time was my first novel. This book was written 25 years before being published as an ebook. Though I don't recall which friends read it in manuscript at that time I want to thank anyone who read and caught mistakes in those pre-spell-check early drafts. I really must thank all my voracious bookworm friends. I appreciate their encouragement and their appetite for my books over the years.
Most of all I'd like to thank Robert, my husband and most faithful reader. This book is for him, with love.
Idiolith Books by Ainy Rainwater
Albums by Gymshoes (Ainy Rainwater)
Chapter 1
Vapors drifted low to the pavement, glowing red-orange from the slowly dropping sun. As the temperature fell, the vapors would thicken, the blue lights of Zan Central Port would blink on and everything in the docking area would be enshrouded in chill blue. By then Jason would be in the city with its shrill voices, convoluted architecture, warm subdued lights, and soulful music. The city, however, was best known for its hot meals and hard beds.
To ward off the first twinges of hunger, Jason popped a pink crystalline candy in his mouth. As he stood high on the lift just outside his ship watching the sun melting over the mountains, he was reminded of a sticky candy he ate frequently as a child. Each layer was a different flavor and color. He used to take it out of his mouth as he tasted the flavors mixing so that he could see the colors change.
Change upon change...would it ever end? He wondered what the chances were of finding a decent replacement for Paol. Paol Winslow, who was a competent and likeable enough guy, was already in town looking up some connections. With any luck he will have landed an inward bound job by morning, Jason thought resentfully. A big company that worked closer in could offer more opportunities for a guy like Paol. Thanks to Jason, Paol now boasted a little adventure and experience to go with his superior set of papers.
But that left Jason short-handed on Zan. Only two-thirds of Zan's population were more or less permanent residents. Most of the remaining inhabitants tended to leave on the ship they came on, but inevitably there was some swapping around as both contractmen and fickle freelancers searched for better jobs, better destinations, and better pay. It was from this restless contingent that Jason would have to choose a crewman for his two man rig.
No, Jason thought as he watched the lights coming on in the hillside city, the odds are not good. People aren't as stable as they used to be. He thought of Martin.
Tonight Jason was tired and tomorrow promised to be one horrible day. The pink candy he had been sucking on pensively had left his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He stepped back inside the ship to pour himself a shot of opaque brown liquid from an unmarked container. Then he checked out and caught the next flit into town where he filled himself with a hot meal and some soothing music before stretching out on his stony bed.
***
She was floating in a standing position at the center of a cluttered room. The room turned and twisted slowly around her at odd random angles. Every object was black, white, or shades of gray and remained in a fixed position in relation to the walls. There is nothing here at all, she thought, disappointed. She was alone until her peripheral vision picked up movement among some dark gray canisters. She turned with the room until she was facing them. A small black lizard---no longer than her hand---with gray and white markings moved into view. It turned its head to the side and regarded her for a moment with a bright eye. The wall with the canisters was now drifting toward her feet. The creature moved to face her directly, raising its head slightly. It opened its toothless pink mouth which seemed to grow larger as she stepped inside.
A sudden iciness shook her body; Sien jerked awake in bed, damp and shaking. She looked out the low window to her left at the hazy blue glow in the distance. It was not yet dawn, but the day begins early on Zan; there were things to be done.
***
When Zimmer Astro Nomads Incorporated established its modest outpost on this planet, atmospherics was not yet an exact science. The team of professionals hired by Zan Inc. to make the atmosphere breathable created certain climatic imbalances which resulted in the air frequently being drinkable as well. Since water shortage had been a problem with other colonies, Zan Inc. had proudly announced that its newest port on the very edge of explored space had "abundant water". The first employees to arrive were not amused.
But the port flourished despite the short days and the long cool nights which were damp and oppressively endless. Defoggers and an extensive warm-light system eventually were installed in the growing city, making it possible for activities to continue well into the planet's night. Then, after a generous amount of sleep, activities could be resumed long before dawn. In this way the city of Zan retained a normal routine despite the pervading darkness. In contrast, Zan Central Port with its continuous activity was completely enclosed except for the docking area. It let the night come and go as it pleased with no more accommodation than the blue ground lights.
The city was just beginning to turn on its "nite lites", as they were commonly called, when Sien left her room. Fog was still waist deep, but would melt away quickly in the lights. She stepped carefully down the short narrow steps from her door, pulling her wraparound tighter as she slid into the fog. Light and movement were reclaiming the city. A passing flit sent the dissolving mist roiling away from the pavement. Across the way, the rotund proprietors of a restaurant were opening up for business; the old man was singing something in a low bass voice as he helped the younger woman hang a big sign which heralded Hot Orange Sweet Rolls as the day's breakfast special. The sign was hand-lettered in a bright orange that made Sien catch her breath. It was an effect of the lights, but the whole area seemed brighter once the sign was up. Sien headed to the station where she caught a flit to the port.
Jason awoke at the tone. His back ached; the first night in port was always the roughest. It was pitch black outside the window and inside his mind. His face, even upon just waking, was creased by lines of irritation and anxiety. He could not remember his dreams, yet they haunted him as he prepared to go out. Trying to remember them did not help him peel back the darkness from his mind, but it kept him from immediately facing the task of the day.
He moved slowly around the room, rubbing his eyes, then stretching. His ribs on the right side---the side he had slept on---ached badly. Various other smaller pains made themselves known as he moved around. In an effort to counteract the general feeling of oldness, he vigorously ran through a series of exercises, spitting out low curses through gritted teeth. Still breathing hard, he rapidly dressed and packed his small case. He felt better in a steely sort of way. It was time to go out, get some breakfast and do a little business.
Going down the steps, Jason lowered himself into the fog like a man easing himself into water of uncertain depth. Disgusting, he thought as he trudged through the thick orange vapors. I should've waited until it burned off. Down the way, lights were coming on in the front windows of the buildings. The vapors dissipated rapidly as he walked briskly to a flat yellow building not quite within sight of where he had stayed. There was a light that glowed dimly through a high rectangular window, but no sign on the door. Jason opened the door and went in with a gleam of anticipation in his otherwise clouded eyes.
The light in the tiny restaurant hit him with an almost visible force. It had the same effect whenever he breakfasted here. The inside of the building was also painted yellow, but the yellow walls alternated with pure white walls so that the odd shaped eight-sided room seemed to be larger than it was. The overall effect of the color bands and the careful lighting was one of palpable warmth and light. Like most establishments on Zan, it had a dehumidifier which kept the air inside absolutely arid.
A cup of something---Jason didn't know what---was served gratis by a bearded man with a large nose. He never spoke, but merely grunted in his usual friendly manner after taking Jason's order. Jason stared into his cup and swirled the thickening liquid thoughtfully. It was neither so good nor so bad as to have made him ever inquire what it was. Over the hot cup, then the hot food, Jason grimly planned the day.
Sien inserted her card into ADLOC 6. Though technically she was no longer a crewman on the Just Whistle, her coded number would remain active for awhile. It was not uncommon if a crewman parted amicably from a ship, for the captain to delay putting a hold on the number so that the crewman could continue to have access to those parts of the port which might prove useful in finding a new job. This courtesy gesture occasionally caused havoc, but on the whole, the system worked well enough. Thus, malcontents and the unjustly accused were kept out of secure areas. Sien went straight to 6-L.
Eric Michaels grinned down at her from the docking platform. He thumped the hull resoundingly. "Well, well, I thought I'd see you before we left. Changed your mind?" He knew the answer, but had to ask.
"No," she shouted up at him with the faintest trace of a smile.
As he pushed the lever forward to lower the lift for her, he found himself wondering what went on in that swift mind of hers. He could never tell. Her plain, often passive, face betrayed nothing. When she reached him, he said, "How about some breakfast?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "Jackson's still got the galley all torn up, but he swears he will have it back together before we leave." They were making their way automatically to the common room as he talked. "Know where you're going yet?" he asked with an enthusiasm he did not feel.
"No," Sien spoke for the first time, "but I know the ship." As they entered the large room, Sien slid into a booth against the near bulkhead while Eric went toward the galley at the other side. "Where is everybody?" she asked. "I expected at least to find Lucky and Chris here." The ship had an empty feeling about it that she had not noticed when it had been empty before.
"Oh, they heard The Three Toed Bear came in late yesterday and so they scurried over there to kick around some star stuff with Sly," Eric shouted back to her. The padded bulkheads which eliminated the echo seemed to swallow his usual hearty voice from the galley. "Oh, and I think Kenna may have found a temp." He stepped back into the common room. "He's still in town checking it out from there. Name's Welch or something like that." He returned to the table laden with an assortment of bright containers. "And the good Lord only knows where Jackson is."
"He's always here when you need him," she said quietly.
Yes, and so were you, he glumly thought. But instead he said, "Well, right now I need him to put the galley back together so we can have some hot meals around here. I'm still not convinced that the problem he's trying to fix even exists." Eric was mixing an unappetizing concoction from the containers. "So, tell me about this ship." He took his first bite then pushed the container toward her. She shook her head.
"Not much to tell," Sien shrugged. She stared past him in silence while he ate. As he looked at her, he wondered why she was leaving. If he would've asked again at this point, she would not have been able to tell him any more than she already had. He remembered her exact words: "I must." That was all. He did not press her further. He had seen this look before and heard that peculiar tone of voice with it. Her catchall rationalization rose to mind: Senda. He almost understood.
The few moments of uncomfortable silence lapsed into a familiar silence which was soon filled by the usual pattern of conversation; Eric talked about a little bit of everything and Sien listened, only disagreeing mildly, but firmly, twice. Just before Sien left, Chris and Lucky came in. Uncharacteristically, Chris wore her straight blonde hair down today, one of the side effects of being on-ground. After goodbyes all around, Sien headed for the central terminal directory.
After a light, but tasty breakfast, Jason strolled down to a public access station near the center of town. Zan was now a great warm island of light, throbbing with people. Finding a booth immediately open, Jason closed himself in the soundproof cubicle. From here he could transact business with almost any firm in the known universe. As fortune would have it, he had just finished a detailed topography of a series of small planet/asteroids for Zan Inc.
Although they began as one of many space exploration companies, Jason and a few independents like him were the only link Zan Inc. retained to exploration: even ZCP was under other ownership. With the distances involved, it was easy over time for planets to gradually slip into autonomy, especially when the governing body was turning its attention elsewhere.
Jason punched in the calling codes, then his access number. While he waited to get the go ahead signal, the current motto of Zan Inc. flashed on the screen: "Oldest and best...doing business under a million suns." Jason snorted. Here he was, an independent scout, working for the most mammoth corporation in space. "Not the sort of thing an independent should be doing," he had grumbled to Martin long ago when Martin had first contracted to do some mapping for them. "But it pays well," Martin had replied. Jason's lips mouthed the words as he remembered.
Martin had been a shrewd businessman; he knew what it cost to keep a ship running. That first job for Zan Inc. had been the entré to a higher level of employment for them. Although Jason had complained about spending all that time remapping an area that had been improperly mapped and partially explored, the payment had been very generous. In no time at all Jason had grown used to not worrying about money. Now he was more likely to grumble, "Why don't they just put me on the payroll?"
Jason fidgeted in the booth. "Why the hell is it taking so long?" he complained aloud to himself. "It didn't take this long to transmit and confirm the data and payment from the ship." He frowned at the console. "Look, all I want is..." he began. "Ah, that's better," he said as the signal came through. He leaned forward. All he needed was to get the next set of co-ordinates and confirm payment amount.
After finishing his business, Jason briefly considered going by The 12th Planet. That place had seen a lot of people come through, but recently he had heard a rumor that spacers were staying away. I'll just head out to ZCP, he decided; if anybody worth having is in town and available, Jeral will know.
The ride from Zan to ZCP was short and dark. Outside of the city, it was as if the flit was soundlessly tearing through folds of soft black fabric. The compartment light was the only thing between him and the night; it was dim and flickered occasionally. He looked at the small useless window to his left. This, he thought, is The Void. As he entered the blue glow that marked the perimeter of the port, he felt slightly relieved.
Jeral wasn't anywhere around when he arrived, so he went to check out the directory to see if he knew any other ships in port. My Secret and The Hungry Dog were in, he noted. But with the exception of Sly on The Three Toed Bear, there was no one he wanted to talk to particularly. Sly hasn't been on-ground long, probably not a good time to catch him, he decided. Maybe I'll see him tonight. Jason checked back at Jeral's cubicle. Still no one had seen him. Jason sighed. It's going to be a long day. Might as well go on down to the ship and get some things done there, he decided at last.
Jason inserted his I.D. card, then entered ADLOC 2. He walked down toward 2-B. There was someone standing out by the ship. As he got closer it appeared to be a young girl. "Whatever she wants, she's too damn young," he muttered to himself. "Another runaway," he thought, "how the hell do they get in here?" But as he approached her, it seemed that she was not nearly so young as he had thought. There was something stand-offish about her bearing. Jason stopped. They looked each other over silently from a distance of about seven meters. She had short curly dark hair which framed her oval face pleasingly. If she had smiled, she might have been pretty.
Sien was also sizing up her future employer. She noted his hesitation, as well as his level gaze. He was less than a head taller than she was, of moderate build. His fine brown hair covered most of his ears and fell charmingly across his forehead. He didn't comb it too often, she observed. Not a vain man. Only thirty seconds had passed since Jason stopped in front of her. He made a low noise that might be construed as a greeting as he walked the rest of the way up to her. "What's going?" Might as well be casual, he figured; despite her stern demeanor she did not appear to be an official of the port authority.
"My name is Sien. I'd like to hire on with your ship." She gestured toward the ship. Her arm was lean and strong, but it was the grace of her hand that caught Jason's eye and led it upward to the hull of The Chameleon where the color was flecking off the back of a black lizard. I really ought to get that lasered on properly one of these days, he thought. He dropped his gaze back to her. Her eyes were dark blue; they seemed bottomless. He found himself looking away again.
"How did you find out about the opening?" Probably a friend of Paol's, he thought. He couldn't tell how old she was, but there was an air of experience about her, perhaps a slight adjustment of posture. The way she stood suggested a real spacer.
"I have my sources," she replied, wondering if he would press her.
"Hmm..." Jason couldn't picture her sitting around The Golden Egg or The 12th Planet shooting the stars and getting splash happy, picking up tips on openings. Probably overheard about it from someone who heard it from Paol. Didn't matter. "How much do you know about the job?"
"Not much."
Tight-lipped, isn't she, he thought, or maybe, yes, maybe it's reserve. An unlikely character trait for a spacer looking for a job. Let's get down to it now. "How long ago did you last work, who for and doing what?"
"Two days ago I left the Just Whistle, Eric Michael's ship; I did primarily tracer work, but I have worked other jobs on other ships."
"Why did you leave?"
She shrugged noncommittally. "The Just Whistle is not scheduled to leave until late today if you'd like to check my references."
Oh, great, he thought, sounds like a typical change-ships-every-port type. Just what I need. I'm surprised Michaels hired her. Probably got suckered in by those blue eyes.
Where should I go from here, Jason wondered. This had been about the rockiest interview that he had ever been on either side of. He didn't feel like inviting her in for a friendly chat about background and experience as was usual. She waited, seemingly relaxed but unapproachable, for him to speak. "Sure, uh, I'll check with him and get back to you later. I'm probably going to be in port awhile..." Looking for someone else, he finished to himself.
"Fine," she interrupted with the first spark of enthusiasm. Or was it relief that the interview was concluding, he wondered. "You check with Michaels and I'll come back tomorrow. Right now I'm getting hungry." She hesitated. "Would you like to get lunch with me?" She was almost smiling now.
"Huh? Oh, no, I'm not hungry. I've got some things to do around here." Jason was startled by her change in demeanor. She murmured a pleasant goodbye and left with a brisk stride.
He shook his head as he turned to the ship. What an odd one! He'd ask around about her, but he hoped he could turn up someone better in the meantime. They hadn't exactly established an immediate rapport. "Damn!" he exclaimed as he entered the ship. "She'll be coming around here tomorrow to see if I've reached a decision. Maybe Michaels knows where she's staying so I can send word out not to come."
***
When he arrived at the Just Whistle later he found a small dark man apparently briefing a new crewman on daily schedules and how they divided their watches, while being frequently interrupted by a woman who kept pushing her blonde hair out of her face in an exasperated manner. The new crewman was leaning back against the bulkhead, listening with an expression of bored amusement.
"What's going?" It was Kenna who spoke.
"Looking for Eric."
"Just a second." He turned to the other man. "You see this red toggle switch up here?" He reached up on the bulkhead. "This is our general alarm switch. Switches like this one are located throughout the ship." He flicked it. A red light panel came on above it as a pulsing tone sounded. "It'll only last for twenty seconds," he continued loudly, "but the light stays on all over the ship until it's turned off." The tone and light abruptly went off. Kenna and the blonde woman, Chris, exchanged a smile. A few moments later Eric charged in.
"You don't have to punch every damn button for him---Jay!" he exclaimed. "Well, it has been a long time; come on back." He shot a look at Kenna who grinned insubordinately back at him.
"I didn't realize you had your own ship," Jason remarked as they began making their way aft. They passed a tall, bearded man, unkempt and covered grunge. He nodded to them.
"That's Jackson. He's a bit quiet, but a good man in a tight spot."
"That's what I came to talk to you about."
"Jackson?" Eric raised his eyebrows.
"No, I'm shorthanded and I need a sound crewman."
"Oh, you must have met Sien. She's something, isn't she!"
"Yes, but what is she?"
Michaels stopped. "I'll tell you what. One of the damn finest, that's what. I wish to hell I wasn't losing her." He jerked his head in the direction they had come. "Welch comes highly recommended, but I don't think he'll be able to replace her." They ducked into his quarters which were surprisingly spacious. "You just can't replace people like that."
Jason sat down and leaned back while Eric poured some Greetings into glasses. "Why did she leave? Didn't fit in with your merry band?"
"No, no, we were all pretty torn up about her decision. I guess Chris and I were closest to her." His voice grew quiet. "No, maybe Jackson was closer to her than any of us." His tone changed. "I don't know why she left, none of us do," he said briskly. "She follows her own inner voices."
Jason gave him a sideways glance. "How long had she been with you?"
"Practically forever. Joined the crew shortly after I got the Just Whistle. Unfortunately she missed our disastrous maiden voyage...we could have sure used an extra hand. Say, what do you think of my ship? You haven't said a word about her. A nine with a six crew. It's a far cry from the old Smithy II, isn't it?"
"Oh, this is nice," Jason admitted. "You must have bought it practically new. One of these days I ought to invest in a new ship, but I keep The Chameleon for sentiment, I guess. It's a 3 man with a 2 crew. I inherited it from Martin Tsing. Did you know him?" Eric shook his head.
"I moved around a lot after I left the Smithy. Ended up with Martin. He had just gotten the ship for practically nothing at auction. We made a good team, he and I. He let me buy into the ship for a song. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find anyone dependable since Martin..." His voice trailed off. Then with a note of exasperation, Jason added, "The man I'm replacing didn't even stick out three full trips."
"I know what you mean," Eric murmured, "what's this old universe going to come to?"
Amusement flashed in Jason's eyes as he started to speak, but Eric held up hand. "No, don't answer that. I never liked physics. No future in it...after a trillion years or so." He started to chuckle.
Jason said seriously, "Let's get back to Sien for a moment---what can you tell me about her background and capabilities? What is she like to work with? She was less than forthcoming about herself in our brief meeting. She came across, well, stiff as a statue---and a moody statue at that."
Eric leaned back and guffawed loudly. "Oh, I can tell you two are going to get along great! Don't worry, if she picked your ship, you'll get along fine." He was still chuckling.
"Whoa, hold on there, what do you mean 'picked my ship'; I'm the one doing the picking and hiring."
"Yeah, and you just hired a new crewman."
Jason started to sputter. "But maybe I don't want to hire her; I'm just checking her out. This is crazy."
Eric leaned forward and said soberly, "You could do a lot worse, Jay. Why don't you just relax, drink that Greetings you've been holding and let me tell you a little bit about her.
"First off, it is my opinion that she can do everything on a ship. She doesn't have papers in anything, though. I don't know where she learned half the stuff she knows, but you aren't going to find her name on much but maybe a few crew rosters---in the whole universe. You and I know that there are a lot of untraceables out here. She ranks with the best of them in having no past."
"Criminal?" Jason queried.
"No, at least I don't think so. From what I have managed to piece together she didn't become untraceable in the usual way. I figure she started as a runaway then somehow, somewhere along the way she ended up on Soma. You ever been there?"
Jason started. He could see Alyson standing there conversing in the Soman's lilting language, the temple in the background. He took a gulp from his glass. "Yeah, once, a long time ago. Back when I was a kid."
"Well, she must have stayed there awhile," he began, then Eric lowered his voice a note, "I think they were grooming her to be a priestess or something."
"But she's a human."
"Yeah, well, maybe that's why she left, couldn't make it. Look, all this is speculation. If you ask me, nobody is going to know that woman's life story. But if half the spacers had her kind of technical training, space would be a hell of a lot safer place.
"Take the 'neat elite' that's coming into space these days. These kids," he said disgustedly, "are certified ten different ways, but they don't know how things are out here. Every one of them can run the most sophisticated ship made, but not one of them has the faintest idea why a ship runs. People like you and me could make a lot of money just keeping their ships sound. They know procedure. They know business."
Jason interrupted. "Risk is the difference, or one of the differences. They don't know what risk is. They want everything neatly tied up and handed to them free." He took another sip from his glass. "The universe is more business than ever now---risk-free business. God help them if there is a cog in the machinery."
"And an unprincipled lot, too," Eric added darkly. "I could tell you a thing or two."
With Sien all but forgotten, Jason was plunged into these familiar topics of conversation. He and Eric had light years to catch up on. It was a shame Eric was pulling out so soon. They parted shortly before sunset, promising to be on the lookout for each other's ship.
As he passed Chris on the way out, Jason nodded goodbye, noticing that some of the blonde hair she had pushed behind her ears was actually gray. Welch---and Winslow for that matter---were perhaps young enough to be her sons.
Chapter 2
The Golden Egg was livelier and more crowded than Jason had ever seen it. He squeezed in the door. Jason thought he caught sight of Sly in the adjoining room, so he began maneuvering in that direction. As he elbowed his way through the antics of the crew of The Hungry Dog , he couldn't help recalling the old adage about rats leaving a sinking ship. Why, with all these louts here, he thought, The 12th Planet must be empty...or closed up. I've got to find Sly; he'll know what's going.
Generally people of great disrepute and great glory frequented The 12th Planet. It had a loudly heralded reputation. Everyone who stopped on Zan usually passed through its doors at least once. The Golden Egg, on the other hand, was where people like Jason ended up spending most of the evening. There was always live music, but tonight the musicians had fled to safety. When Jason managed to get within shouting distance of Sly, he was motioned over. Sly had a table against the back wall and was keeping control of who entered his circle, no mean feat with space at such a premium. He was about Jason's age, but had begun to gray sooner. The silver mixed with curly black hair to striking effect. Sly was aging nicely into the role of scoundrel he had begun playing when he was younger.
"Jay Chenault!"
"Always good to see you, Sly." He nodded a greeting to the well-dressed couple sitting with Sly. "What the hell's going on here tonight?"
"Didn't you hear? Stoney closed up The 12th Planet today."
"What do you mean---for good?" Jason asked loudly. Sly shook his head.
"I don't think so, just until this thing blows over." The man and woman at the table put their heads together in low conversation with slight nods and glances directed at someone in the crowd of people standing around tables with drinks in their hands. Sly brusquely waved off three people who approached the table.
"I heard about the trouble on the way in, from Cyndilee at Ash Mountain Point, but I didn't think it was that bad. Just some crazy guy causing trouble."
Sly shook his head again, more slowly this time as he admired the trim figure of Shaula McCain, his first mate. Funny how he didn't notice her firm little bottom when they were out making a run. He used to. Ah, that's what comes from working with someone so long, he concluded. He sighed.
"Sly, what about this crazy?" Jason leaned closer and broke in on Sly's thoughts. "Did he really file a complaint with the Council? I would have thought Stoney would have been the one filing."
Sly took a long sip of his drink. "If you ask me," he answered, "he's not a crazy." Sly regarded Jason seriously. "Oh, sure, he believes all that religious propaganda Earth sends out," Sly continued. "Hell, he is the propaganda. He probably hasn't been in space longer than it took to get from Earth to here. But this guy has got a legal mind and a lot of resources behind him. Sure Stoney filed, but it's only a counter complaint since this guy filed first. That's the first thing he did; before he went over there and started harassing customers, he filed." Sly got a nasty look on his face. "Nobody had seen or heard of this guy until...BLAM! Stoney gets the papers from the Council alleging he's using The 12th Planet to conduct illegal activity and that same night the guy appears and starts trouble in the club. A legal attack against supposed illegal activities, followed by a moral attack against...I dunno...people being loud, lewd, and drunk, I suppose."
"What do you think will happen?"
"Oh, the Council will rule against him. Nobody cares what people get up to in The 12th Planet. They know Stoney---some of them frequent the 12th Planet themselves----and not that many people out here have ever been to Earth. I mean, a Christian out here is kind of unique, but definitely outnumbered---and what's illegal by Earth standards wouldn't even qualify as unethical out here." Sly started looking around for a refill.
Eventually Jason got to order a drink, thankful that he had eaten earlier; The Golden Egg served light meals but it might have been impossible to get one tonight. They sat in silence for a while. Sly did not seem to be in his usual convivial mood. Jason read the graffiti on the wall and wondered who the couple was. They nodded to Jason and Sly when they left, about the time Jason's drink arrived.
"Who were they?" Jason nodded after them.
"Bearers of a new contract from the Council. Governments are always hungry for hot tech. We came in here earlier for a meal and some business, then when things started getting lively they decided to stay and watch the circus. Some people are always going to be watchers. They pay good money, but I'd be happier if they didn't watch me." Shaula sat down next to him. He gave her an unrestrained kiss which left her slightly disheveled and laughing. "Now the party can begin," Sly announced. He winked wickedly at Jay and signaled across the room to the people he had waved off earlier.
"You know, sometimes I wonder why I bother with legitimate businessmen---they're so boring. They don't appreciate risk." He winked. "On the other hand," he said seriously, "those people who run the Blue Mountain Mining operation cut it so thin, I actually backed out of an agreement. First time I've ever done that." A handful of people had gathered at the table. "You wouldn't believe what they're doing. They've got a full-scale mining operation in a Danger Zone. Of course I found out before I was committed to deliver anything. I'll be surprised if they can get anybody to go out there regularly to haul the ore out," he said soberly. With that suspenseful beginning, he proceeded to put out the word on Blue Mountain Mining. And it was not good. But it certainly wasn't boring.
Long before the "lights out" last call, the hubbub of the people milling about the rooms began to take its toll. Sly got hoarse from shouting and decided to head back to his room early with Shaula and another woman. The continuous voices and press of people made Jason want to be alone and yet also made him feel lonely. When he stepped out onto the street it was relatively empty compared to The Golden Egg.
After walking for a while, he decided to spend the night on board ship. The crowded noisy evening had left him with babbling voices in his head and a low spirit. Perhaps he missed the music. His spirits lifted a bit when he arrived at ZCP. The port was as busy as usual, but seemed to Jason to be more serene than the city. Spacers enjoy the port cities, but are completely comfortable only on ship or in the port itself. As Jason got older he more understood Martin's decision to remain in space and die there rather than retire to a low grav planet.
Since it was not very late when Jason arrived, he decided to go to the rec room, which was actually a rather elaborate facility. Maybe a nice workout before heading back to the ship is what I need, he thought.
But a tiredness crept over him as he watched the various activities in the main room. The echoing shouts from the swim room seemed like something from a dream. The day had been too long. He changed his mind about the workout and went straight to the shower. What to do, he wondered as the warm water poured over him.
He had arrived at the rec room just in time to see Sien gracefully hitting the mat on the floor. The young man who was her opponent had worn a look on his face of one whose victory was hard won. Sien's expression had clearly said that the victory would be short-lived. Jason had watched a few more rounds; Sien was in control for most of the match. When the match was over, she had gathered up a few towels and headed for the female's dressing room. The young man had walked with her, talking. Jason could see across the room a certain recognizable eagerness on his face. He had then looked at Sien who stood by the dressing room door. Lots of luck, Jason had thought, she's on another planet.
Then his mind jumped back to The Golden Egg. The conditions there had not been conducive to recruiting a new crewman; he hadn't gotten to ask Sly about anything. Would it be better tomorrow? Yes, he decided, after tonight those who don't want to be packed in and have to wait half the night to order a drink will go elsewhere. The thought of spending tomorrow and tomorrow night chasing down free crewmen and references made him feel dead tired all the way down to his toes.
Today had been almost a total loss. Jeral had given him a few leads, but with less than enthusiastic recommendations. They were probably among the ones thrown out of The Golden Egg tonight, he speculated. Maybe I should hire Sien. He pondered the possibility as he dressed. She certainly comes highly recommended. He trusted Eric's judgment, but still, he felt uneasy about her. I'll talk to her again, he decided; maybe she will come across better than before.
***
When Jason awoke a kind of dawn had already come to the city with its warm light system, but not to the port. Looking out at the thick fog, lambent in blue lights, it did not seem so bad as it had the day before. In fact, the evening before did not seem so bleak as he reflected on it over his usual makeshift breakfast in the small galley. The day's activities were beginning to unfold themselves in his mind. First, he had some business to discuss with Sly. Perhaps he could pick up a tip on a new crewman while he was there. If I can get things settled today, I can file for departure tomorrow night, he thought hopefully.
So it was with a full stomach and renewed resolve that he headed out into the fog. He had not yet made it to the ADLOC when he saw a figure in a dark wraparound approaching. It was not until he was close enough to recognize Sien that he noticed that she was pulling a small trolley. They both stopped. Again that silence fell between them, that scrutiny. Sien spoke first. "Since we'll be leaving soon, I thought I should get my gear stowed and get settled in this morning."
Jason's plans collapsed. A look of irritation came across his face. "Come on," he said crossly. I might as well get his over with and get rid of her now, he decided, turning back to the ship. This time I'm going to be thorough; I'm going to find out just what she can do.
As they swam back to the ship through chest high fog, Sien suddenly asked, "Ever do any free-style fighting yourself?" Jason was startled.
"Oh, occasionally," he replied, realizing she must have seen him the night before. "But you're way out of my league," he said, anticipating her next question. "You won very easily."
"Against a kid," she said quickly. A pause then, "What many people, younger people, don't realize is that most things are best improved upon by experience and experience is dependent on Time which is..." Here her voice trailed off. She looked down, as if she felt on the verge of saying too much. Then she began again. "Time is very wealthy...very generous," her voice dropped to a whisper, "and very demanding."
Jason was stunned by her unexpected speech. He was quick to agree with her, but his mind once again latched onto the question of how old she was. As they entered the ship, with her gear in tow, he asked, "About how long have you been in space?"
This time she replied with a mere shrug. "I honestly have no idea. No idea whatsoever."
Yes, he conceded, looking at her face and remembering some of the things that Eric had said, I believe her. He told her to put her bag in the exercise room. They went back to the galley where they sat facing each other across a booth that projected from the bulkhead. He offered her breakfast, but she declined. Now the interview would begin in earnest.
Sien seized the initiative. "Did you talk to Michaels?"
"Yes." Jason replied in a neutral tone; he would give nothing away. Neither would she. Sien did not ask what had been said; she knew. Jason knew that she must have no doubt about the matter, but whether she asked the obvious follow-up question was his signal to whether this would be a relaxed casual chat or an inquiry. Sien looked around the galley with calm curiosity, unaware of his mental machinations. When she didn't say anything, Jason took a deep breath, ran his hand quickly through his hair and said, "All right, let's go back to before Michaels' ship---what were you doing?"
Sien turned her level gaze to Jason. "I was an engineer." Jason stared at her in open disbelief. Before he could speak, she added, "A seven-three ship; I was one of three engineers."
"Who did you work with?" Jason asked quickly. There was still a chance it could be verified. She shrugged and looked around as if she had already lost interest in the subject. Jason persisted, "Who did you work for---what ship---what company?"
Now it was her turn to look briefly vexed. "It doesn't matter," she stated baldly. "They didn't train me and they didn't know me. They don't operate this far out, so I doubt you would know the ship."
Jason decided to let this drop for now. She had brought up another subject that he was interested in. "Who did train you---where?" His tone was brusque as he expected more defensive answers, but surprisingly she leaned back and took on a candid conversational tone.
"I suppose Eric told you that I don't have any formal training, but I've been out here a long time and I've picked up quite a bit of stuff. For instance, my first ship out had a lot of trouble with safety violations, so I was made fire monitor, safety inspector, whatever you want to call it." Her low voice sounded vaguely belligerent toward her first employers.
"It was bad." She shook her head. "They had so many problems that I would start on one system, check it against specs, make a report for repairs, then move on to the next one. By the time the whole ship was done, the first system was already out of compliance." She sighed. "It was a good ship with a bad captain, which made a bad crew. You know what I mean...the attitude on a ship is more important than the hardware. A ship, even a new ship, is only as sound as the people who run her." Sien was now looking around the tidy galley. She had no doubt in her mind as to how this ship was run; Jason's no nonsense attitude toward her bespoke a man who knew how to properly run a ship.
Jason now echoed her sentiments about how important attitude is on a ship. Maybe we shall get along fine after all, he mused. "Yes, I once knew a guy who worked very hard to make enough to buy a ship. He wanted a new ship. But once he got it, well, it didn't last a dozen rounds. No discipline." Jason found himself looking straight into her unsettling eyes, but this time it did not bother him. Sien appeared poised, but relaxed, almost smiling. At this moment she could have been any spacer he knew sitting across from him talking. This is an interview, he reminded himself. So reluctantly he did not follow the line of "old space stories" she had so neatly drawn for him. Instead he turned back to her elusive past. "You mentioned just then that the systems inspector job was your first ship out. Out of where? And where did you go from there?"
Sien's expression clouded. "I've worked in several different sectors; I don't remember how many ships exactly...seven...eight?" Her frown deepened. "I tried to work a different position on each ship. I moved when my training was complete."
"Is that why you left Michaels' ship?" Jason interrupted.
"No." Sien looked irritated. She stared hard at him. "What you need to know is what I can do: I can do everything from DSR overhauls to fixing a passable meal. I daresay there isn't much on a ship such as this one that I can't handle."
Jason bristled. "On a ship such as this one..." he began.
"No, wait," Sien interjected quickly, "I didn't mean anything derogatory---only that I've worked on ships larger and sometimes newer than this one. It is a safe assumption that you don't have any equipment here that I haven't worked with somewhere else." Sien looked calmly at Jason. He appeared to be mollified by her interjection. She now changed tactics, softening her tone even more. "Tell me about you," she said quietly, "I should know the qualifications of the captain since the crew will be so small."
Jason sat silently for a moment, his anger of earlier spent. His life in space seemed so long. What would be considered pertinent? He understood the difficulty of giving qualifications and training. "Like you, I've moved around a bit. I started training at the New Kepler Academy. I didn't start as early as most...I was sidetracked for a while." Sien raised her eyebrows. What a queer expression had come over his face! "Then I dropped out---not because I wasn't making it," he added defensively, "and worked my way out here."
"What about this ship?" Sien asked. "How did you come to own your own ship, run your own business?"
"I bought into a partnership. It was Martin Tsing's ship. After he died, I hoped to find another partner, but it's been rough."
"How long were you and Martin together?" Sien asked sympathetically. And how long ago did he die, she wondered. But Jason remained silent. He had not intended to tell her as much as he did. Now he attempted to begrudge her information as she had him. Sien changed the subject. "So, you've been out here for quite awhile," she began lightly, "I can't believe all the colonization just since I've been out. When I first left, I could name all the colonies in all the sectors." She laughed, surprising Jason. "That was the total extent of my knowledge. Now look at me---I can run a ship, but I can't name all the colonies!"
Jason nodded his head. "Space is becoming unlimited---at least as humans tend to think of it. The only places we can't go are places I don't want to go---Danger Zones. There are already colonies on some of the first places I mapped. Mining, mostly, I think."
Sien was still smiling. "So, do I get to map all those rocks with you, contribute to civilization's progression into the wondrous, prosperous Void?"
Jason considered the possibilities. He could keep looking, wasting time and money on Zan, or he could try her out. She did not seem such an improbable candidate as before. She had been with Eric "practically forever". No, she was not the flighty type that he had thought. But still he hesitated. Sien was not looking at him now.
She looks confident, calm, he thought. She looks like she has always been on this ship. The thought startled him. He reached across the table and touched her arm. She turned to look at him. "You've got the job," he said simply. She smiled. There had never been a doubt in her mind.
"When do we leave?" she asked.
"Well, I've got some supplies that's supposed to be delivered here this afternoon. If I can talk to Sly today, we can go ahead and leave tomorrow morning. It all depends on how soon I can get my business done with him." Sien nodded; she did not have to inquire into the nature of that business.
Before Jason left, he showed Sien the supply order and led her back to the cargo area in the very rear of the ship. "You and I know there isn't a chance in hell of them delivering that order earlier than they said, but just in case I'm delayed I want you to know what's what. Check everything in piece by piece and don't let them leave until you've completed the inventory. If anything's missing, send them back for it right then. And make sure we don't pay for it twice. Bet you've never been a supply officer before," he grinned.
"Oh, you'd be surprised what I've done," she replied with a glint in her eye. He felt a faint qualm as he left her scrutinizing the order, a slender finger running down the column at the right, each item briefly lighting up as she touched it.
***
As the sun rose on Zan Central Port, Jason checked at The Three Toed Bear for Sly. It would have been simple if he had been at the ship. But he was not there. A surly crewman told Jason that he did not expect Sly back at all that day. "Try Nickajack," he suggested roughly. Nickajack was a bar, nothing more. People came there, drank, and crawled away. It was open unofficially around the clock and had a few cubbyholes in the back. Sly's on-ground office was usually in one of them.
Jason headed into the city. Nickajack looked more dilapidated than the last time he had been there. It was dark inside, save for a few dim lights and the crazy colored light pattern thrown on the floor by the stained glass in the door. As usual there were a couple of people drinking alone. The bartender was not in sight. Not for the first time Jason wondered how it stayed in business. Resident drunks were steady customers, he decided as he went to the back.
A chit stuck on one of the doors in the back corridor caught his eye. It said simply SLY. If Sly had been out, the chit would have been gone. If he had been with another customer, it would have said BUSY. Small wonder Sly met the nicely dressed councilmen last night at The Golden Egg, Jason thought as he rapped on the door.
"Enter," came a muffled voice behind the door. "What's going?" Sly said when he saw Jason. Sly was leaned back, half reclining on a padded bench with his back in the corner. Jason noticed that he had changed clothes from the night before and looked well-rested.
"When I talked to Cyndilee on the way in I asked if she wanted to pass on a message to you," Jason said as he sat down on the other end of the bench.
"And..."
"She said that the only thing she could think of would fry every circuit on my ship," Jason grinned. "Which brings me to why I'm here. I was wondering what you could get a hold of in the way of DSRs."
"Do you need compacs or are you thinking about revamping the whole system?" Sly sat up straight now.
"I don't know yet. It's just that the system is so old that I have to do a lot of shuffling to get what I want and it takes so much time. I need something simpler, faster, more efficient. Yeah, I guess I'm talking about a whole new system." Jason was already thinking what it would cost him. Illegal technology did not come cheap.
"I've got something that might be what you're looking for, but I've got a source that says Charon has fully integrated ships. Unless you've got an immediate problem, I'd say just wait until I can get a line on what they're doing over there. The Jacobson sector is just a gold mine of technological wonders. They must have the best brains in the universe in that one sector."
"Shame they're keeping it all to themselves," Jason remarked dryly.
"Yeah, but it keep smugglers like me and my spies employed." Sly smirked. "When I get a line on it, do you just want the sheets or do you want technicians to put it in---I have some very good technicians if you don't have anyone lined up..." Sly almost always provided the technical personnel that was needed to implement any of his improvements. He got more pay if he provided the expertise as well as the information. Jason knew that would up the price, but he did not know any technicians that he could trust to put in so sophisticated a system. "That's fine," he said.
Jason continued, "I heard a rumor a while back that the Walker sector was also working on something hot, guess they got tired of playing ugly stepsister to Jacobson."
"I heard the same rumor, but so far that's all it is, a rumor. If they've got anything new, they are playing it real close because I haven't heard a peep. I think Charon is still your best bet, if not this system, then the last one. It depends on how soon you want it and how long it takes for them to get the bugs out. I don't take any tech strips that are too experimental---let them make the mistakes and let them fix them. Let their people squirm. I've got a reputation to protect and clients to consider." Sly got a look of distaste on his face. "You and I know that they're damn bastards for keeping---or trying to keep---the rest of the universe in the dark."
Jason nodded and noticed Sly's clenched fist. "They want to keep us all primitive," Jason added. "Power...Control...It's all a game, but little ports like Zan are the ones that really lose. Big wealthy colonies can get a lot of what they want, but you and I know that all the combined wealth on Zan can't buy most of the secrets---even if we employed cheap spies." Jason chuckled dryly, acknowledging that the services that Sly provided to Zan and its citizens were not cheap. But for all the money that Sly must have accumulated, he never gave the impression of wealth. Jason often wondered where it all went. He couldn't imagine Sly investing in anyone or anything but himself. Perhaps those spies were well paid after all. Sly and Jason smiled at each other.
"Check back with me," Sly said as Jason left.
***
After Jason left, Sien was alone in the ship, her ship. She pursed her lips as she glanced again at the e-screen, calling up the supply order with a light touch. It seemed adequate, but she wished that there was some way she could have had input as to what was ordered, but there was no time now to put in a smaller, personal order. She shrugged and laid the small e-screen on the table in the galley where they had talked. Sien frowned remembering the conversation---there was something about him that bothered her, but she could not put her finger on it. The interview, even the small talk that was mixed in, all seemed to be working to hide the real Jason Chenault from her. Their contact up until now had been almost totally artificial. Only occasionally had she glimpsed a personality behind the efficient captain's facade. It was time, she decided, to explore the ship. She was certain that it would tell her what she wanted to know about Jason.