Long View - Zelde M'Tana Part 17

Zelde nodded. "You're thinking good, Parnell. And even if that don't work-"

"Yes. We'll a.s.sume that Peralta will get a look around this s.h.i.+p if he really wants it. I've no excuse to keep him out of any part except our quarters-and of course he hasn't the authority to inspect our log, directly. Haiglund does, but he'll go through channels and ask for the transcript we gave the port."

Zelde knew what he meant. "Which is solid on tape and 145.

can't answer any second-guess questions, like our computer could."

Parnell filled his cup again. "You've got the idea. And that's why, while I didn't mind Commandant Trask searching the log directly, I was glad he didn't delegate the privilege to Cort Verrane!"

Parnell had one more idea about Jimar Peralta. When Rooster went down to Old Town to pick up the final liberty party, he brought back six bottles of trair and a case of jash. Plenty of the stuff in cargo, Zelde knew-but in sealed crates. More work to break it out, than to bring up some extra.

When she went on watch, she spent as much time as she could in going over the s.h.i.+p's faked log again. She'd thought she was done with needing to know that stuff- but now, considering Peralta, maybe she wasn't.

When Parnell got up next morning, Zelde Woke, too-a little short of sleep but not missing it. First she lay there, relaxing; then she heard the shower start, and got up and joined him there. He shook water out of his eyes, off his face, and grinned at her.

Standing close beside him, under the spray, she said, "Feeling good this morning, are you, Ragir?"

He handed her the soap; she began lathering. He said, "Yes. For a change, I am.

The pressure-the Bonaparte landing-for once it's building me up instead of wearing me down. I don't know why."

For a moment the spray hit her face and she couldn't talk. Then, away from it, she said, "Maybe you turned the corner."

"Maybe." He kissed her. He tasted soapy, and from the face he made as they moved apart, so did she. Then he moved the control-water came cold and hard-she pushed her head into the main force of it to rinse her scalp well. Almost too soon, he cut the flow entirely.

She looked at him. He said, "Aren't you done?"

She felt her hair. "Yeah, I guess." Then they toweled dry, dressed and went to the galley. Right now, it's business.

They joined Lera Tzane at breakfast. Waiting for his meal, Parnell said, "As soon as possible, after the Bonaparte lands, I'm visiting there. As my senior available officer, 146.

Lera, you'll come along. Captain Haiglund's very strong on protocol. So be ready."

She turned her head sharply, to look at him. Her hair, worn loose today, fell forward across one cheek; she pushed it back. "No!" When he didn't speak, she said, "I don't want to see Peralta any more than I have to. Not at all, if possible."

Parnell reached to touch her hand. "Easy, Lera. What-"

She interrupted. "I have the watch, anyway. So technically I'm not available.

Parnell-" She turned her hand palm up, to grasp his. "I could never hide anything from that man. What if I still can't?"

Ahead of Parnell, Zelde said, "He had a handle on you-that it? None of my business, what kind. But-" To Parnell, now: "If she feels like that, maybe she's right, and shouldn't go."

"Maybe. But I think, Lera, under the circ.u.mstances it might be my business.

What sort of hold Jimar had on you, I mean."

Tzane squeezed his hand, then let go. "It's nothing much, in the telling. He's always been quite a man for women, you know. On that trip he was living with a Chief rating, Hilaire Gowdy-but that didn't keep him away from others. Well-I was one of them, and totally infatuated. When he ignored me for someone else, I pretended not to notice-several of us learned how to do that, I'm afraid. And eventually he dropped me."

Her hand clenched. "But still-any time he noticed me at all, I'd tell him anything he asked. Just on the chance, you see, that it might help me with him." She shrugged.

"It never did, of course. And at trip's end I had the good sense to request transfer offs.h.i.+p-and the luck to get it."

Zelde frowned. "And you think you still might-Lera, how long ago was all this?"

"Planets' time? I have no idea. About eight years bio, for me. For Jimar, probably less-I had two years groundside between my second s.h.i.+p and this one, and I think he's been on continuous s.p.a.ce duty except for normal stopovers. But-"

Parnell cut in. "You were right, Zelde. If Lera feels uncertain, she shouldn't go. So you get ready, instead."

"Me?" She thought about it. Well, why not? "Any reason to dude up special?"

147.

"What? Oh, no-don't bother with a cover disguise. There's no point in complicating things any further."

Near mid-morning the Bonaparte landed. On screen Zelde saw the great hulk- balancing, it looked, on bursts of blue flame-as it came down. "That's ionization," said Par-nell, "off the drive nodes." The blue glare reached ground, and dust erupted to hide the final touching. A dull thump came; the Great Khan shook a little. Then the dust thinned and blew away; the other s.h.i.+p sat quietly, close to midway between the Khan and the port's Admin building.

Leaning over the comm-panel, Parnell searched s.h.i.+p-ground frequencies and found the Bonaparte talking with the commandant's office. Listening, he nodded.

"All very formal, very official-that's Haiglund, all right." When the exchange was done, he hit his own "Send" switch. "The Great Khan calling the Bonaparte. Captain Parnell requests Captain Haiglund's permission to come aboard and pay respects." He repeated the message once, then waited.

After a moment, a voice came. "Acknowledged, Captain. Please hold?"

"Right."

About two minutes-then another voice, deeper. "Captain Haiglund here. Request granted, Captain Parnell. Will you and your ranking officer do me the honor of joining us for lunch? We sit at noon sharp, but report a half hour early, if you will."

"Surely, sir. We'll be honored."

"Confirmed, then. Haiglund out."

Cutting the circuit, Parnell grinned like a wolf. "Good. That bottles Peralta up, for now. Zelde, we have nearly an hour to spare. Anything particular that you need to do before we go?"

"What kind of clothes, Ragir?"

"The outfit Turk tailored for you-it's the nearest you've got, to a dress uniform-is it in shape to wear?"

"Sure. But it's not really official-won't this book-soldier Haiglund get his tail in a knot?"

"You're a s.h.i.+pboard promotion, remember? And you could hardly wear poor old Terihew's leavings; you're a head the taller and only about half as wide!"

"All right; I'll wear it."

"Fine. Now-anything else on your schedule?"

148.

She caught the look in his eye, and hated to disappoint him. "But-1 ought to look through my fake record again-be sure I have it all down pat. Don't you think?"

For an instant his half-grin and raised eyebrow gave him a lopsided look. Then: "Afraid you're right. Well-it's just that I hate to waste feeling so good."

"Then stay feeling good. We won't be there all day."

Walking with Parnell across the port, Zelde knew she looked fine. She'd filled out some, since Earth-not to match her height, maybe, but enough to show off Turk's job of tailoring. She had a haircut only a few days old, and a little spray on it so that under lights it shone. She was used to the one lone earring now; the mirror told her she held her head straight without having to think about it.

She'd brought a clipboard, for taking notes if she needed to. Her free hand clasped Parnell's, swinging back and forth in rhythm as they walked. Today he was setting a good pace. . . .

And over her shoulder slung a pouch with two bottles in it-one jash and one trair.

Hearing the Bonaparte, they let go the handclasp. Parnell winked. "Right-let's look a little official, around here."

The ramp guard was armed and helmeted. She gave a quick "Present Arms" and reverted to "Ready" before Parnell could return the salute. "Captain Parnell?" He nodded. "Welcome aboard the Bonaparte. Go on up. You'll be met inside, and escorted to Captain Haiglund." She spoke, too soft for Zelde to hear, into the talk- set at her lapel, and then paid them no more attention. Parnell leading, they climbed the ramp.

At the airlock a young man, Oriental, greeted them with a silent nod and gestured for them to follow him. Inside, the s.h.i.+p was laid out exactly like the Great Khan-the escort, then, must be purely formal. Or maybe for security- though the man had no weapons Zelde could see. Well, neither did she-but she could get her knife out in a hurry, if she needed to.

A tall, broad man, gray-haired and smiling, admitted them to captain's quarters.

He extended a hand to Parnell. "Welcome aboard, Captain, and your officer as well."

149.

Zelde also got the handshake. "And meet First Officer Per-alta."

This one, now-thin, dark, of medium height, Peralta moved like a cat on a tightrope. His hand, briefly clasping Zelde's, was hard-taut skin over lithe bony structure-its pressure firm and measured. Under a precise line of mustache, extending past the corners of his mouth, his quick smile gleamed white. For a moment his eyes met Zelde's- and looking up a little, for she had height on him.

"Pleasure. Didn't get your name?"

"Zelde M'tana. Acting Second Officer."

Haiglund turned to Parnell. "Second? Where's your First?"

Parnell explained about Dopples' injuries and the temporary promotions. "And my Acting First has the watch." He smiled. "Captain, I know how you feel about disrupting schedules unnecessarily-so I didn't."

Haiglund nodded. "Right. I'll meet that one another time. What's the name, though?"

When Parnell gave it, Peralta said, "Tzane? Lera Tzane, by any chance?" Parnell nodded, and the other man grinned. "So Lera got her officer's rank, after all!" To Haiglund he said, "I knew the girl on her first trip. She was smart enough-knew her job-but a little flighty, I thought."

Haiglund motioned his guests to seats; Peralta began pouring drinks. No choices offered-Earth bourbon over ice for all. Parnell took the pouch from Zelde, and presented the two bottles to Haiglund. "Later I'd like you both to sample these with us. They're local products, and I think you'll enjoy them."

Then, accepting his drink and nodding thanks, he said, "Flighty? Lera Tzane?

Well, eight or nine bio-years ago, on her first trip, perhaps. Cadets-new to s.p.a.ce, excited-we expect a little foolishness, don't we? Not that we stand for any great amount of it, of course. But people do mature, and Lera certainly has."

"Good," said Chalmers Haiglund, and took over the talk with questions and stories about other s.h.i.+ps and officers. Some, Parnell seemed to know; others he didn't. Listening, Zelde decided Haiglund had gone to s.p.a.ce more than ten planet- years ahead of Parnell.

But she knew none of the people being talked about. Her 150.

attention drifted. Mostly, she watched the man Peralta. The tension he showed so plainly-did it have to do with the situation, or was it just part of him"! His eyes, never still, looked from one to another; now and then his head moved a little, barely enough to notice, as if he were deciding something. All the time, he's waiting. What for?

He made an abrupt, decisive nod; then he was still. What was that about? She thought back-who'd said what, just then? Then she got it, the thing she'd only half- listened to-Parnell telling about Captain Czerner being promoted to a groundside job. Then a pause, then Peralta's nod. She'd have to remember to tell Parnell; maybe he could figure it out. At least he'd know it meant something to Peralta.

Haiglund finished his drink; the other two men upended their own. Catching Parnell's look, Zelde followed suit. And thought, everybody even has to drink in step with this Haiglund.

Parnell spoke. "Now, if I may, I'd like to do the honors." Haiglund nodded, and Parnell moved to pour generous gla.s.ses of jash and smaller ones of trair, then serve everyone. Raising his trair, he said, "If you haven't encountered trair before, I must tell you that it should be drunk with caution. It's much more effective than its taste indicates."

Haiglund grinned. "That's fair warning," and he sipped. So did Peralta; then he shrugged. Well, Parnell told you!

The talk continued, now with Parnell and Peralta exchanging word of people they knew. For a time, Zelde saw strain in her man; then, again, he seemed to relax. A galley aide brought lunch; while they ate, discussion slowed, almost stopped. Then came another round of jash and trair- Zelde served it up, this time-and Haiglund took the lead again. Problems he'd seen at different colonies, how UET seemed to be handling them, and some ideas about how he himself, given the chance, might improve matters. The man's face was flushed, and he was talking louder and faster than before.

Haiglund and Peralta, both, were drinking ahead of Zelde's pace. Keep in step?

She looked over to Parnell. He'd drunk most of his jash but hardly any trair. With his 151.

left eye, turned away from the others, he winked at her. What . . . ? He looked down at his two drinks and repeated the wink. Oh! I get it.

Before Haiglund could finish either drink-his signal for all to do the same-she got up and made the circuit with both bottles, topping off full and near-empty gla.s.ses alike. And a little later, she did it again.

When she started up to do a third serving, Parnell made a quick frown. All right, it was his show. She sat back. Haiglund had a load on, for sure, but was handling it.

Per-alta-he'd taken a lot of trair for his size, but all it seemed to do was make him quiet. His gaze still moved from one person to the next, and his concentration looked even more intent now. Zelde waited; she could feel the booze herself, but like Parnell. she'd gone easy on the trair. Now, though, he drained that gla.s.s. There had to be a reason, so she gulped hers, too.

Talking faltered and stopped. Parnell looked around, owl-eyed. Zelde knew he couldn't be drunk, not on that amount. He said, "Captain Haiglund, sir-want to thank you, your hospitality-think we'd better be getting back. That time of day- check the log and incoming messages- can't afford to skip captain's inspection.

Right?"

Peralta was leaning forward, staring. Haiglund belched and grinned. "I like to see that, captain-stick to duty. yes. Fun's fun, but stay on top of the job. You're all right, Parnell." He stood, steadier than Zelde expected. "See you out? Or grant freedom of the s.h.i.+p and let you find your own way?" He laughed.

"Freedom of the s.h.i.+p? Why, we're honored to accept." So Parnell and Zelde said good-byes and left without escort. But leaving the quarters, glancing back a moment, Zelde saw Peralta looking after them. His eyes were narrowed.

Groundside again and well away from the Bonaparte, Parnell dropped his drunk act. "What do you think, Zelde?"

"Depends. What was it you were doing, with us and them and the drinks?"

One quick laugh, then he said, "I warned them about trair, right? But they hit it heavy, early on, and we didn't 152.

until later. So for them, the sobering effect's worn off; they're drunk. We're not, and won't be for a good while yet."

She saw it, but: "What does that do for us?"

"Peralta, you see-he has to outdo everybody in everything. Outdrink, outfight, outf.u.c.k any man alive, to hear him tell it. He's drunk now and he doesn't know why. Coming aboard the Great Khan he'll be testing himself against me every way he can. But drinking trair. . . ."

"Yeah-you'll sandbag him again."

"We will. So that whatever he's looking for, he'll get too drunk to do much about it."

She thought to mention Peralta's reaction that she'd noticed. "When you said about Czerner's getting promoted, something clicked. I don't know what-but he looked like he'd just figured out an answer."

Parnell's own answer was more grunt than word. Then: "Maybe he knows something I don't, that puts a hole in our story. So far and long from Earth, it can't matter much-but I'm glad you spotted how it struck him. I'll be on guard."