Long View - Zelde M'Tana Part 15

/ can make it easier, that's what. Work on top more.

She went to look at the pill bottle. Bad news-it had 129.

been less than half full; now it was a lot more. Meaning a refill, and a lot taken since she'd last checked. h.e.l.l.

She dressed and went to the galley. Lera Tzane sat with Carlo Mauragin; she joined them. Lera said, "I've heard what happened. I'm sorry it did."

"My own fault," Zelde said. "One thing, though-when Dopples went past me, after the third robber, and then got himself stabbed, I didn't know it was him. Winded and runny-eyed, and so dark and all, I couldn't see much-and he didn't say anything.

What I thought-a fourth prowler, maybe. So-"

Mauragin touched her hand. Except for bloodshot eyes, he looked healthy enough.

"n.o.body's blaming you for Dopples. You didn't know where he was; none of us did." He shook his head. "I'm just sorry I got so tanked- couldn't help or anything."

Zelde made a face. "What difference? None of the sober ones were out there, either. Being polite-waiting 'til I came back in, first. You got to blame something, blame the scrungy bar!"

Then the truth of it hit her, and she had to laugh. Carlo gave an unsure grin, but Lera's forehead wrinkled. "What in all the worlds do you find funny!"

Zelde caught her breath. "Well, you-for one! But not just by yourself. I lost part of my ear, and Dopples got his guts ripped, because people have a twitch about peeing in company!"

Tzane looked as if somebody knocked the wind out of her. "Don't worry about it,"

said Zelde. "h.e.l.l, you weren't even there."

She took a breakfast tray to Parnell, on watch. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting hungry too long."

He pushed back from the console and clamped the tray to an armrest. "No-I'm not very hungry, really."

She touched his shoulder, staying away from the sore part. "Eat up, anyway.

Good-tasting stuff this morning; you might as well enjoy it." As he ate, she talked to him- about what she'd seen down in Old Town before the trouble started. And telling of Torra Defose-who, Police or no Police, behaved "-why, halfway like a human being, Parnell!"

Swallowing-and she was glad to see he'd finished 130.

nearly all the meal-he looked up at her. "That's the h.e.l.l of it, you see. Even among Police you'll find decent ones. But one thing you can't afford to forget. Their loyalty- admirable in itself-is to something obscene."

She thought about it, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Par-nell-I see the difference. But it sure makes things tough."

"No one ever said it didn't, Zelde."

His tray was empty now, or near enough. She kissed him-with Dopples away, she could do that-and took it to the galley.

The gold ring. Back at quarters she tossed it in her hand. No use for it, now. She went downs.h.i.+p and found Henty Monteil at her workbench, showed her what had happened. Shocked, Henty offered to pierce cartilage and weld a link to the ring so the two would hang level. But Zelde didn't feel like doing that; the whole thing had gone sour for her. And finally Henty agreed to take back the ring at twenty percent discount. "That's my labor." With the credit a.s.signments made out, Zelde left.

Somehow, with that settled, she felt a lot better.

She had duty, starting at noon, at the cargo port; after a quick, early lunch, she reported. The port faced west, so she put on a visored cap to shade her eyes; against rising breeze she wore a light jacket.

Unloading was finished; now all traffic was incoming. Everything came already packed. Zelde knew nothing about the cargo items in detail. What she had to do was check container numbers against Parnell's list and make sure each piece was initialed by one of the s.h.i.+p's own inspectors. And check the item number off the list.

The job didn't take much of her attention; it gave her plenty to spare for daydreams-and worries. Parnell . . .

Between loads, she noticed activity at the foot of the main ramp. The way the s.h.i.+p curved, most of that area was out of view. Hearing a voice get louder, she leaned out to see.

What it looked like, a man and woman wanted to board and the guard wouldn't let them. From this angle she didn't recognize anybody-the guard wore a helmet- then the woman turned to one side and Zelde spotted the heavy jaw of Amzella Trask Verrane. The plump man beside her, then-no standout to be recognized at a distance-yes, it 131.

was Cort Verrane, all right. He was the one being loud, too. Trouble?

Her intercom to Control wasn't working, so she couldn't alert Parnell or ask advice or get relieved, here. She saw the guard-he wore only Second Rating marks- shake his head again. With these people, that one could get in bad- and probably just for sticking to orders, at that.

Leaning out, she gave a piercing whistle. The three looked around, up at her.

Motioning, she whistled again, then had to wave the guard back when he started to come along. The Verranes walked along the curve of hul l, de-touring a landing leg- and stopped, looking to where she stood, two and a half meters above ground.

Neither spoke up, so Zelde did. "You got a problem? Maybe I could help."

Red-faced, showing no sign of recognizing Zelde, Cort Verrane gestured. "That stupid guard-he should be put to dumping slops! 1 told him we have business-that it came up suddenly, with no time to go back to Admin and call in for clearance-but he refuses to let us board." Crazy, his eyes looked. "If I had him under interrogation for twenty minutes-"

"Interrogation!" The wife turned on him. "That's your answer to everything, these days, isn't it, Cort?"

"It's a way to get answers. These s.h.i.+p people, they're getting away with murder.

Literally-those two that left three men dead, and Defose turned them loose instead of sending for me. I've talked to her about that, and I may again. What does she think she's in-public relations? b.u.t.tering up offworlders-"

"Doing her job, perhaps," the woman said. "The Police carry a bad image, always have; anything she can do-"

"Oh, a lot you know!" And then they were just plain yelling at each other, like Zelde wasn't there to hear, so she kept shut up and listened.

Until Amzella Verrane cut the man short. "Enough, Cort!" Voice icy, she said, "We do have some business here; remember?" She looked up to Zelde. "You called us over here. What for?"

Zelde thought fast. Smokescreen, a little. "The guard. You have to realize, he don't have authority to change the port's rules, on his own." Your turn.

The woman frowned; under the floppy hat that hid her 132.

hair, Zekie barely saw the forehead wrinkle. "Do you know who we are?"

Good question-did she or didn't she? All right, she did-but keep it loose. "Sort of." She nodded toward the man. ''Mr. Verrane, isn't it? From the commandant.

And you must be Ms. Verrane."

Amzella Verrane smiled, not warmly. "The commandant's daughter. Did you know that?"

"Heard it, yes. Now then-wouldn't the guard pa.s.s word of you, up to Control?"

The man began to speak but his wife cut in. "You didn't ask, did you, Cort? Just tried to bull your way through, as usual."

"I?" Verrane's voice came shrill. "You're the one who-"

Not letting herself laugh, Zelde said, "Shouldn't be any problem. Just a minute." Under the cargo listings on her clipboard was a scratch pad. She tore a sheet loose and wrote on it, then folded it so the breeze wouldn't take it, and dropped it to Cort Verrane. He missed the catch, and had to step over and pick it up. "Show that to the guard and he'll call ups.h.i.+p for you, all right. Should take care of it."

Saying nothing-a little thanks wouldn't hurt-Verrane turned to leave. His wife didn't. "Let me see that, Cort. If you're not curious as to what it says, 1 am." He came back; she took the paper, read it, handed it back. "Go ahead, then." He stared at her but she didn't move; finally he walked away, toward the main ramp.

The woman stood, looking up at Zelde. "Take off that cap. And move forward, where I can see you better."

"Hey, what's this?" But the commandant's daughter made her motions clear enough, and Zelde did what the woman asked. Cap off, looking face to face at less than two meters, she waited.

Finally, Amzella nodded. "You're the one, all right." Nothing else to do, Zelde decided, but look blank and see what happened. It didn't take long; the other said, "You sign yourself Zelde M'tana, Third Officer. Now, according to the Police report of your little fracas last night-I keep up on these things-you must have had a haircut and lost twenty pounds, this morning."

Now the smile looked predatory. "But that's not all. Hood or no hood, I know you. Honcha, you called your- 133.

self." She nodded. "Now-one step at a time-explain these things."

Keep it simple-and flighty, like a kid. "The other day- and thanks again, for the ride- I was out looking around on my own, not being official like Third Officer. Which I'm new at. you'll have heard." Grinning, she shrugged. "Hon-cha? Nickname, when I was a kid, is all. And handy, off duty. Y'see?"

Verrane shook her head. "If that were all-but let's hear the rest."

"Oh-last night, you mean? Gets chilly, evenings, they said. So I dressed warm.

Some clothes borrowed, and too big around." What else? "Oh, the wig-that's for dress-up. I like my hair short, but not till the time."

Zelde paused. Over by the ramp, Cort Verrane shouted and waved for his wife to join him. She nodded, looked at Zelde a moment, and said, "It's not a bad story. You think fast, don't you?" She turned away, then looked back. "I'll even buy it, for now. Two reasons. I can think of no way that anyone in your position could be a threat to this s.h.i.+p or this port. And I appreciate your helping to straighten out our little mess here." Zelde said nothing, and this time the woman did leave. The guard stepped aside and let the Verranes go up the main ramp.

And then the next load of cargo needed Zelde's attention.

An hour later the Verranes came out again, and walked toward a groundcar. The woman paused, looked around in Zelde's direction, and waved. Zelde waved back-why not?-and went back to her checking.

As the day's last load arrived, her relief appeared. She showed the man-a Chief rating-the status of her list, and turned the job over to him. Parnell would be off watch now; she went to quarters and found a note from him: Meeting in Dopples' quarters. Come along, but no hurry.

So first she showered and changed clothes. She wanted coffee-but they'd have some there, wouldn't they? Sure.

Hilde or Helga-clothed, for once, and with the flamboyant hair tied back-opened the door and motioned her 134.

to come in. The other blonde-whichever-was pouring coffee. Zelde sat on the broad arm of Parnell's chair and accepted a cup.

Dopples, propped up on pillows in bed, looked better than she expected. Beyond the bed sat Harger. Lera Tzane was absent-on watch, of course. Zelde said, "You look healthy, Mr. Adopolous. Glad to see that."

But his gesture had no strength. "I'll live, they tell me. But I won't be up and around for a while. That's what we're discussing."

The question before the house was whether to make temporary promotions while the First Hat was out of it, or fill the watches unofficially. Harger, the Chief Engineer, leaned forward. "In my experience you don't put someone under the gun to decide things-even minor ones-without the authority to make it stick. The t.i.tle, too, so people listen without asking a lot of questions."

So after more talk, not much, Lera Tzane was promoted to Acting First Hat and Zelde to Acting Second. For Third, Dopples suggested giving Carlo Mauragin another try. He chuckled; it turned into a cough, but not for long. "He needs to train some in groundside drinking, I'd say, but his work on s.h.i.+p is coming along well."

Face blank, Harger shrugged. Zelde said, "Lera was ready to give him more time, before, so she'd agree. Unless you got somebody better . . ."

"That's it, then." Parnell's grin lasted only seconds. "Now-we had some company today. Zelde, I'll talk to you later, about your part in that."

She looked down to him. "Blew my cover all to h.e.l.l, yeah."

"It doesn't matter. We're past the situation when you might have needed to hide, groundside. At least you got the Verranes aboard without a major blowup. These people-I swear-"

"He's the one made the trouble, you might guess. She- when I asked did the guard refuse to pa.s.s word, she said he never asked, just pushed."

"That fits, yes. Anyway, it's the woman who's most curious about you-and also the one who appreciated your help."

"Yeah-I noticed. But what did they want, here?" * Parnell brought out a cigar, then looked at Dopples. The 135.

First Hat said, "It's below the waist I got stabbed, not in the lungs. If the cigar bothers me, I'll say so."

Taking his time, Parnell lit up. "The Verranes. They were touchy when I asked after the Commandant, so I suppose the old boy's getting his liver wrung out again."

No ashtray. Parnell scowled, looking around, and one of the blondes brought it for him. "Now-what they wanted, those two. Well, there's another s.h.i.+p coming in, landing here in a few days. The Bonaparte, under Chalmers Haig-lund."

Zelde squirmed. ''So? I don't get it."

Parnell grinned, not for long. "Neither did I, at first. They asked a lot of questions about that s.h.i.+p-naturally enough, since it's coming here. But then the woman- she's smart, all right, but an amateur at intelligence work-she let it slip that they'd be correlating everything I said against the captains over at Summit Bay port."

Zelde shook her head. "You still don't see? It means that before we arrived, they did the same kind of questioning about us."

Now she understood, but Dopples spoke first. "You mean, it's a good thing we faked our log in such detail- right, skipper?"

"That you did, Dopps-most of it's your work." The First Hat nodded-not looking smug, just taking his due.

Harger leaned forward. "We're in the clear, aren't we, Captain?"

"I'd say so-or the Verranes wouldn't have come to me to do their asking. We're fueled and they know it. We could lift off at any time-the emergency checkdown takes twenty minutes. Some of the remaining cargo, we're only taking aboard to look good. No-we have no official problems here. Yet."

Zelde knew she looked startled. Parnell said, "I don't know about the Verranes, but the talk set me thinking." He b.u.t.ted out the cigar. "The Bonaparte-Haiglund's a book soldier, never made a decision in his life, if he could ask Headquarters. At least, that's his reputation; I haven't met him. His First Officer, though-there's another story."

"Somebody you do know-right?"

"At the Slaughterhouse, Zelde-the s.p.a.ce Academy. And he was Second Officer on the s.h.i.+p Lera rode, her first 136.

trip, as a rating. Except to get more dangerous, he doesn't change much."

Dopples spoke. "Anyone I ever heard of, do you suppose?"

"You might have. If you'd met him, you'd remember. He's a fox, Jimar Peralta is- and all ambition. In fact, I'm surprised he doesn't have command by now-through normal UET backstabbing or Escape, one or the other."

Stretching, Zelde stood. "Seems as how it's his captain, should worry. Not us."

Parnell reached to touch her arm. "Wrong. There's another way to command- fast, and sure. Only happened twice, that I know of. One man went straight from Third to skipper."

"How-?"

"Alongside a s.h.i.+p like ours, groundside, he guessed it was Escaped, and finked to the port. Before it could lift, that s.h.i.+p was retaken-and he was its next captain. I don't imagine Peralta's forgotten that story, any more than I have."

He looked grim. "And given the alarm, Summit Bay could intercept us."