Suicide Run (Smuggler's Tales From the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper Book 2), Page 3

  Allen’s lips twitched in what Natalya suspected might have been a suppressed smile. “You might be surprised at that, Ms. Usoko. Let’s just say, in the last two plus centuries, we’ve never had a problem.”

  “I have to take your word for that,” Zoya said.

  Allen shrugged. “Yes. Unfortunately. It’s not something I can prove one way or another without showing we’ve had a problem. Since we haven’t?” He shrugged again and raised an eyebrow at Natalya.

  She nodded. “He’s right, Zee. I suspect the contract would stand up in a CPJCT court.”

  “How can you say that? How can an anonymous contract be valid?”

  “It’s not anonymous,” Natalya said. “It’s sealed. If we were to challenge it in court, then somebody representing the company would defend against the challenge but the actual parties involved would never show in the record.” She looked at Dorion. “Am I right?”

  “Essentially,” Dorion said.

  “How do we contact you again?” Natalya asked. “Once we decide.”

  “At the bottom of the document you can thumb accept or decline,” Allen said. “Whichever way you go will be communicated to us and we’ll be in touch.”

  “If we don’t accept?” Zoya asked, her brow still furrowed in a frown.

  “If you decline, well, thank you for your time and consideration. If you accept, we’ll send confirmation documents for your verification,” Allen said. “We recommend you burn the contract to glass for your records.”

  Natalya began reading the contract.

  “You’re going to do that now?” Zoya asked.

  “You got someplace you need to be?”

  “Well, no, but that’s going to take a while.”

  Natalya shrugged without looking up. “Order dessert. I want to see what kind of allowances we have for fuel and maintenance before I sign this and while I’ve got them here to get it adjusted.”

  “Told you,” Dorion said with a glance at Allen.

  “I’ll have the berry pie,” Natalya said. “With vanilla ice cream and a coffee.”

  Allen snorted and pressed the service button.

  Chapter 5

  Dark Knight Station

  2366, March 17

  ALL THE WAY BACK TO the apartment, Zoya said nothing. She stomped along, hands thrust into pockets, and chewed her mouth around like she had something nasty in it that she couldn’t spit out and wouldn’t swallow.

  When the door closed behind them, she turned to Natalya. “You signed that contract. Without getting a lawyer to look at it.”

  Natalya filled the kettle with water and put it on the burner to heat. “Yes. You saw it. Straight boilerplate ship service contract. We’ve seen that language a hundred times. I think it came out of our Contracts IV course almost verbatim.”

  “What about the expenses clauses?”

  “What about them? We got them changed upwards. They’re even going to pay for the navigational upgrades. It’s in their best interest for us to be as efficient as possible.” She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “Real food in the galley? We’ll eat as well out there as we do here. Probably better.”

  “You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to do it.”

  A sick feeling filled Natalya’s belly. “I’m not going to force you to fly with me. If you don’t want to do this, I’m sure you can find something else to do.”

  Zoya threw herself into her chair at the table and scrubbed her face with the palms of her hands. “That’s not what I mean,” she said—not looking at Natalya, her voice uncharacteristically faint.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You just took the deal. We didn’t discuss it. Nothing.” Zoya took a deep breath and blew it out through her nose. She looked over at Natalya. “What’s that going to do to our relationship with TIC?”

  Natalya rolled the question over in her mind a couple of times before answering. “Well. First, I don’t see how it has any bearing. Not like I signed up for it.”

  “Yeah, but I did and I can’t tell them because I signed that damned non-disclosure.”

  Natalya shrugged and pulled the teapot and tea out of the cupboard. “We both did but there’s no reason for you to tell them, is there? Do you even have a way to tell them?”

  “I could include it in my reports, but I’m not going to be here any longer, am I?”

  Natalya tossed some loose tea into the infuser as the kettle began to boil. “Is that what this is about? Keeping your TIC handlers happy? I thought I was your assignment.”

  Zoya didn’t answer.

  Natalya looked at her. “Zee?”

  Zoya looked up and shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “Well, would they complain if we hired onto another of Kondur’s freight runs?”

  “Probably not.”

  “You’re my shadow. You report on what I’m doing, right?”

  “You make me sound like a hall monitor.”

  “Sorry. Not my intention,” Natalya poured the water over the tea and chose her words carefully. “I meant it when I said you’re my wingman, Zee. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you. I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask you.” She set the timer and faced Zoya. “Are you good with this? Can I make it up to you? Technically, they hired me and the ship. You’re bound by the NDA but you’re not bound to me or the ship. I can do this solo.”

  “I’m all right, I think,” Zoya said after a few moments. “I hate not having that contract vetted. That’s probably what scares me the most.”

  “What about TIC?” Natalya asked.

  “They’ll have to cope. You’re right about the job. You’re under no obligation to do anything specific and my only agreement—at least at the moment—is what it’s always been. Go with you and keep track of what’s happening.”

  “What will you tell them?”

  She shrugged. “That we’ve got a courier job.”

  “Just think. You can tell them about the systems we’re in.”

  “If we’re only there long enough to sync a data buoy in the outskirts, there’s not going to be much to tell.”

  “They’ll live,” Natalya said. “What are they going to do? Fire you?”

  Zoya bit her bottom lip and looked down. “Maybe.”

  “Look at the bright side.”

  “There’s a bright side?”

  “Yeah. We’ll get to see a lot of the Western Annex and we’re getting a raise. Even if TIC stops paying us, we’ll still be earning more per month. Until they do, we’re going to be living fat.”

  Zoya gave her a tentative smile. “Did you see those annual raises?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.” The timer dinged. She pulled the infuser and poured a couple of cups of tea. “I’m sure that’s a function of just how tedious this job might be. They want to keep people from bailing on them so they keep sweetening the pot every stanyer.”

  Zoya laughed. “Probably right.” She took the offered cup and sipped. “Are we doing the right thing?”

  Natalya shrugged and took a seat. “We’re on the hook for the next six months. That’s going to set us up pretty well. Compared to what we’ve been doing?” Natalya looked around at their somewhat cramped quarters and shrugged. “We could probably afford a better place to live.”

  “Wouldn’t be worth it if we’re going to be in space three out of four weeks.”

  “Shall we keep this one?” Natalya asked.

  “Won’t we want one over in Ravaine?”

  “Possibly. How much trouble would it be to move?”

  Zoya looked around. “I’m not that attached to much here. I can be packed by this time tomorrow.”

  “We’re paid through the end of the month.”

  “When do we have to be in Ravaine for the upgrades?”

  “Contract stipulates thirty days. That would be April 16th.”

  “How soon can we get there?”

  “Few days. I’d have to check, but no more than a week. We can cross the entire A
nnex in that amount of time.” Natalya took a sip of tea and considered Zoya’s expression. “So?”

  Zoya grinned across the table. “So, I think we’d better get packing. I’d like some time to get settled before they start overhauling the ship.”

  Natalya grinned back. “You know what’s another good point about this job?”

  “What’s that?” Zoya asked.

  “No more hot bunking.”

  Chapter 6

  CommSta Bowie

  2366, March 27

  BRIAN DORION MET THEM at the dock with a big smile and a cargo hauler. “Welcome to Bowie,” he said as soon as they cracked the lock open. “Hope Kondur didn’t give you any trouble about leaving.”

  “I’m not sure he knows we’re gone. We just signed out at station housing, paid the balance on our rental, and left,” Natalya said.

  Dorion chuckled. “He knows. Do you have much to move in? We’ve picked out a nice suite for you in the pilots’ wing.” He waved at the cargo hauler. “We can take a load over now if you’d like. Give you a chance to check it out. See if it meets your needs.”

  Natalya took a few moments to brace herself and to take a few deep breaths of station air. Even on the small-ship dock, it smelled fresh and clean—free of any mechanical odors except for the ubiquitous tang of cleaning solution and plastic. Even the scorched smell of maneuvering thrusters had been scrubbed. She looked at Zoya, who shrugged in return. “We can probably put all of it on one load, if you’re game?”

  “I’m at your disposal until 1800,” he said.

  Natalya checked the chronometer on the station’s bulkhead—1400. “Let’s do it, then.”

  Zoya led them back into the ship and aft to where a stack of cargo totes stood against an engine room bulkhead. With a few deft flips, she removed the tiedowns and grabbed the top box.

  “Is that all?” Dorion asked.

  “We’ve each got a few in our staterooms, but this is the bulk of it,” Natalya said, grabbing the next box and following Zoya out. She grinned at the expression on Dorion’s face. “We travel light. Most of it travels with us.”

  He added his crate to the growing pile on the hauler and grinned. “I’ve had pilots come in with metric tons of household effects.”

  “Yeah, but were they flying Scouts?” Zoya asked.

  He shook his head and went back for another load. “No. This is a first for us, I think. We’ve never had a Scout flying for us as far as I know. Even in the early days.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t have specialized ships for this work,” Natalya said, grabbing the next box off the stack and starting back out.

  “Funny you should mention that,” Dorion said.

  Natalya waited for Zoya to place her crate and then added her own on top of it. “You’re developing them now?”

  “You two might be the prototype. All our other crews are running fast packets in parallel with cargo.”

  “Lemme guess,” Zoya said. “Unwin Eights.”

  Dorion froze and blinked for a few heartbeats. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Why do you say that?”

  “Small, light, fast. Mass-produced and cheap. Beef the Burlesons and they can jump a long way with a pair of crew and still turn a good profit on a small, high-margin cargo,” she said. “They’re so common they’re practically invisible.”

  Even Natalya stared at her.

  “What?” Zoya asked.

  “I had no idea you’d given it that much thought,” Natalya said.

  “Well, you’ve probably never thought of flying anything but the Peregrine, but some of us have.” Zoya grinned and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “You should think about it. We could make a killing without risking a priceless historical artifact.” She strode back through the lock leaving Dorion and Natalya blinking at each other.

  “She’s right, isn’t she?” Natalya asked.

  “Spot on, actually.”

  Zoya came back out with a cargo tote. “You guys gonna stand around or you gonna help?” She plunked her carrier on the stack with a cheeky grin and went back for another.

  They laughed and followed her in.

  By 1425, the hauler had all their goods aboard. Natalya locked up the ship and swung onto the back of the hauler. Dorion took the controls and Zoya tucked in beside him.

  “I haven’t gotten a statement from the station yet. What’s our visa?” Natalya asked as he zipped them along the dock and down a wide passageway into the station proper.

  “Permanent visa. All docking fees and charges are waived as long as you’re under contract,” he said, leaning his head back but not looking away from the path ahead.

  Zoya met Natalya’s stare with a look of surprised disbelief. “So if we get another ship we could dock it here, too?”

  Dorion laughed. “Some of the pilots have private yachts docked. They use very little and the goodwill factor is high.”

  “As long as they’re happy, they stay?” Zoya said.

  “Spot on,” he said. “We work hard to make you happy. Our business depends on it and we’ve had a couple of centuries’ practice in not being penny wise and pound foolish.” He glanced at Zoya. “Remember that going forward. If there’s something you want, let the company know. You might be surprised what’s possible.” He tilted his head back toward Natalya. “That goes for you as well, back there.”

  Natalya didn’t have much time to ponder his statements before the vehicle drew to a whining stop in front of a numbered door.

  “Here we are,” Dorion said. “Let me show you around. See if you like the place.”

  Dorion jumped down from the hauler and waited for them at the door before swiping a hand over the panel. The door opened and he waved them in. “First impressions,” he said.

  Zoya led the way with Natalya on her heels. The view over Zoya’s shoulders made Natalya’s brain zip. It didn’t look like an apartment, at least no apartment she’d ever seen. Zoya stopped dead about three steps inside and Natalya had to step around her to see what caused the holdup. Once she saw, she stopped, too.

  “This is big enough to park the Peregrine in,” she said.

  Behind her, Dorion chuckled. “Not quite. The overhead is a little low.” He stepped around her and into the cavernous space. “This is your basic parlor. We’ll get you some furniture from central stores. I didn’t know what you were bringing or what you liked but we can fix that now you’re here.”

  Natalya shared a look with Zoya and wondered if she looked as shocked as Zoya did.

  “Through here is your kitchen. Galley. Whatever you want to call it. I call it kitchen. Food prep.” He led the way around the corner to a galley area bigger than their whole apartment on Dark Knight. “Plenty of counter space. Full fridge. Freezer so you can store stuff while you’re out and not have to worry about food when you get back. There’s a concierge service that will keep it stocked for you if you just tell them what you want in it.” He shrugged. “Basic stuff.”

  He led them back out and popped a door open. “Basic bath. All the necessities. Loo. Lav. Bathtub. Shower. Some linen storage.” He went to the next door and popped that one open. “Spare room. Some pilots use it for an exercise room. Others a meditation space. We have a full gym at the end of the passage, but some people prefer to set up their own. Whatever you want to use it for.”

  On the far side of the parlor he pointed to two doors at either end of the long wall. “Matching bedrooms. Mirrored layouts with a shared bathroom in between.” He walked into the nearer room, crossing it to open a walk-in closet. “They each have a closet. Bathroom through there.”

  “Two?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. This one has a steam room, a double shower, and paired sinks on the vanity.” He popped the door and stepped back so they could look in.

  Natalya took a deep breath and met Zoya’s wide-eyed stare. “Um. Look, Mr. Dorion—”

  “Brian,” he said. “We don’t stand much on ceremony here.”

  “Brian,” Natalya said. “I
know you’re paying us well, but all this is ...” Her words failed her.

  “Over the top,” Zoya said. “You can’t be serious.”

  Dorion frowned at her and then looked at Natalya. “What’s the problem? I’m sure we can fix it.”

  “How much?” Natalya asked, her tongue suddenly sticking to the roof of her mouth. She waved a hand around at the space.

  “How much?” he said. “What do you mean?”

  “Rent?” Zoya asked. “Utilities, services.”

  His face relaxed and he looked back and forth between them. “How much do you think?”

  “Five thousand?” Zoya asked.

  He looked at Natalya.

  “I was going to say ten,” she said.

  He shook his head, a devilish glint in his eye.

  “More?” Zoya asked. “We’re only going to be here one week a month.”

  He raised an eyebrow at Natalya.

  “No,” she said. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Perfectly serious,” he said. “It’s yours, expense-free for as long as you fly for us.”

  “You can’t mean that,” Zoya said.

  “The company wants you to stay. They need you to do the best job you can under trying circumstances. Being underway for three weeks out of four will be taxing. I think it’s going to be particularly difficult in that matchbox you’re sailing around in. It’s bad enough for the Unwin crews and we want your home here to be as stress-free as we can make it. Believe me when I say we’ll be getting our credits’ worth out of you. If you find the lifestyle to your liking ...” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

  “We’ll do it longer,” Zoya finished, looking back into the bathroom again.

  “Turnover is a problem,” Dorion said. “Lots of people say they love to sail around the Deep Dark, but when you make it their job and keep them on a schedule, it gets tough to do week after week, month after month.” He shrugged. “We know that. Over the last two centuries we’ve worked with shorter schedules, longer schedules, no schedules, rigid schedules. None of it made much difference in pilot satisfaction and turnover. Making more credits helps a bit, but a couple years of flying and most salt away a nice nest egg.”