Rebel's Quest, page 14
part #6 of The Long View Series
Okay; the deal practically made itself, and this day's work seemed to be wrapped up. They'd been consulting in Tregare's quarters, so he invited Tolridge to share dinner with him there. She'd mentioned throwing a spread for him and his officers, but so far the event hadn't happened. Now, apologizing for that delay, she accepted his hospitality.
From the galley he ordered a moderately festive meal, featuring bushstomper steaks from Number One, and opened some wine from that planet. They ate leisurely and drank the same way, talking about widely varying subjects that had nothing to do with trade—or, indeed, with here-and-now. "Tell me about your life, " she said, and he gave her a much-edited version: the overall flavor of UET's Slaughterhouse but none of the grimmer details, the same treatment of Butcher Korbeith and of the triple mutinies leading to his Escape.
"Since then, " he said, refilling her glass, "I've been here and there a lot. Ships don't give detailed itineraries, you know. " She nodded. "Since UET already knows it by now, though, I don't mind admitting that I got in and out of Stronghold—and also Earth, though only in orbit; we didn't land. "
Looking at him with an odd intensity, she said, "You take it right to them, don't you, Tregare? I suppose that's why you're becoming so notorious. " She waved off any reply. "Oh, yes— nearly every ship leaves some kind of word about you and your doings. Some of it secondhand from UET worlds. Do you know what they call you? "Tregare the Pirate"—as though you were the only Escaped Ship that ever raided. I wonder why—"
"Simple enough, I'd think. Last I heard, Inconnu's still the only Escaped Ship that can shoot at 'em. And has done it. "
She blinked. Maybe a little on the drunk side, but not much, he thought, and restrained his hospitality, pouring her glass only halfway full, as she said, "How long, now, will you stay here?" Now that the trading and supplying were pretty well done, she meant.
"A few days. My crew's been working long hours; those people deserve some groundside leave, a chance to walk around and scan sky. " He grinned. "Not to worry; they don't rampage a whole lot. " Some, of course, but he expected she'd know that much.
"Another thing, " he said. "I need some more computer time. Because in that blocked bank there could be some stuff for me that I couldn't access until Deverel got the jinx out. "
"Of course. Any time. Tomorrow—or is it today, by now?"
He checked his chrono. "Close to it, but not quite. You like some more coffee?"
She laughed, then hiccuped. "No coffee. Who needs a wideawake drunk?" Working at it, after a moment she stood. "I don't usually—" She shook her head. "Tregare? If you could walk me home I'd appreciate it. It's not all that far. "
"Sure, " so they went downship and out the ramp. The night held a bit of chill but not much. The sky showed bright stars, with a twinkling cluster low on the west horizon, but no sweep of galactic haze.
Not leaning on him greatly, of a sudden Mayo Tolridge stopped and held him back. She was looking up as she said, "You've been a lot of places, Tregare. A lot of places. "
"Well, a few more than most, I guess. "
"And what do you think of the universe?"
He didn't know, so he said, "Mainly, it's there. "
She laughed. "Right. And I've figured it out. Bran Tregare, the whole damn universe is one big Rorschach test!"
"If you say so. It's a new thought, anyway. Which way, now?"
"To our left, here, " and soon they reached a fair-sized house, built all on one level. Tolridge couldn't find her keys, so she knocked, and after half a minute or so, a man opened the door.
"Mayo? Are you all right?" He squinted at her. "Carrying your cargo alist, eh?" To Tregare, "She doesn't do that often. "
"I know. She told me. We were feasting a little, Onship, after winding up trade arrangements; Ms. Tolridge has been a big help, so—"
"Oh, yes. you're Tregare. " Bran accepted the offered handshake, heard the man's name, and promptly forgot it. "Well, thanks for escorting Mayo home. Care for a drink or anything?"
Politely, Bran declined, said his good nights, and headed back toward his ship.
* * *
His way took him through a grouping of small shops and other businesses. One place looked like a bar, and when he walked into it, that's what it was. Not crowded, this late, but several people sat in booths at either side of the aisle leading to the bar. Sometimes, Tregare decided, a man can use a drink just for the hell of it. So he walked the gauntlet of booths, bought his drink, and started back to find a booth of his own because the barstools didn't look all that comfortable. He paid no heed to the seated people; he wouldn't know any of them, anyway, and he wasn't in search of company.
But as a party of four came in, laughing and half-running, he stepped aside to let the group go by. And as he began to move again, someone took hold of his right sleeve. "What's the matter, captain? Are you stuck-up, or something?" The woman's voice restrained his first urge to pull away; he looked down to see, seated alone in the booth, redhaired Tanit Eldon. She said, "Twice you've walked past me. Don't you associate with Chief ratings, off duty?"
Come to think of it, he hadn't seen much of this woman on duty, either, once her inventory readouts and Grodens reports assured him of her competence. Well, Erika Hulzein wouldn't waste training on stupid people.... Tregare said, "Wasn't expecting to see anyone I knew, so I wasn't looking. This seat taken?" She shook her head, so he sat, and took a sip of his drink. The taste wasn't what he'd expected.
Probably his face showed surprise, for Eldon said, "Is something wrong?"
"No, the drinks all right. But I ordered bourbon. "
She laughed. "I had the same problem. On South Forty, that stuff is called bourbon. "
"No place else would. " Then they were both laughing.
After that drink, Tregare switched to beer, which even South Forty hadn't managed to turn into something else. Eldon was on a talking jag. "... the original Tanit was some kind of fertility goddess, back in Carthage or Babylon or someplace. I read about her, but somebody had cut all the sexy parts out of the tape. " Sitting in the dim part of the booth, eyes shining in the shadow of her face, she looked at him. "My mother named me. Do you think she wanted me to be good at mating?"
Back Onship in Tregares quarters, he decided she probably thought she was good in bed. She had all the complex moves, and put considerable energy into them, but after a time he began to anticipate the routines, and it put him offstride. So he stopped moving, and waited until she did, too. "Tanit?"
"Yes?" Panting, she said, "Anything wrong?"
"Course not. Just, because you're such a good learner, I want to suggest something. " She nodded. "Okay. This is a little tricky but I'm sure you can do it. "
And she could. When asked, she could relax and do nothing except what her body's own reflexive responses dictated.
Then, for both of them, things worked a lot better.
Later, sitting up, she said, "I could learn a lot of things fester, Tregare, if I had more time to work with you directly. "
"We could bend schedules that way, sure. "
She blinked her eyes in the way he was learning to recognize. "I hear you're rooming alone now, captain. I could—"
"No. " Too fast, that; he should explain more. "You're too new aboard. No matter how you behaved, some people would say you were trading bed for status. And being new, shipside, you'd make mistakes and give the gripers something to chew on. So I'm afraid the word has to be no. "
"Well, I didn't mean—"
"Sure not. Play it safe, is all. "
She agreed, so he was off that hook. And not much after, late time or not, they tried bed again. She did remember what he'd told her before, so he found the occasion quite an improvement.
Next morning, waking alone, Tregare arose short of sleep, but all things considered he felt better than he probably had a right to. Well, being lovers with Tanit Eldon didn't hurt his morale any. He wondered—had he, maybe, got himself into this situation too quickly? No preliminaries, just jump to it? "Peace knows, " he muttered to himself, "being hard up doesn't suit me a whole lot. " Maybe it made him a little too vulnerable, too open.
But to make such decisions fast had always been his pattern. Well, almost always. And, for totally non-related reasons, he'd questioned Tanit under truth drugs; he knew her mind and liked it.
What else drew him? The red hair, short but still echoing the glorious mane of Phyls Dolan? Tregare shivered, hating to be reminded of that poor woman drifting all these years, space-frozen. If only he'd been able to move faster!...
He brought his mind to now, where it belonged. Dressed and ready to start his day, he headed upship, to the galley.
After breakfast he went groundside to dig further into" possible ship data and messages. Mayo Tolridge had offered to set up a data link for Inconnu, but Tregare knew Tinheads keyboard and control codes differed somewhat from those in Port Admin; he didn't want to chance throwing in errors without realizing it.
He found a certain amount of additional info which the malfunction had previously blocked away, but nothing crucial. Starting to leave, then, he passed the comm room and heard Tolridge's voice. Talking, apparently, to an incoming ship: "... helpful if you'd burn the weeds off one of the more overgrown ones. " Tregare couldn't make out the answering words, but then Tolridge said, "Inconnu, yes. Leaving in a few days, I think. " Turning back to the room's door, Bran caught something about hoping to talk with him, and then Tolridge said, "We'll see you down here soon then, Graf Spee. "
He walked into the room; the woman looked up. He said. "Who's upstairs, you were telling all about me?"
She looked startled. "Graf Spee. Ilse Krueger commanding. "
The name rang a bell; after a moment he snapped his fingers. "Got it. I've heard of her, here and there. Smallest person ever to survive the Slaughterhouse. Hadn't heard she was Escaped, though. " He scowled. "You sure it's not a UET trick? I mean, what name did the ship have, before?"
"Why, I don't know! But a woman, commanding—"
"Or claiming to command. Well, never mind. I'm going aboard ship now, and either way, I'll take care of it. "
On Inconnu, up in Control, Tregare put his forward screen on hi-mag and monitored the incoming ship's descent. From this angle he couldn't see if it was armed or not, but coming down its weapons made no difference anyway. He had his own turrets slaved to the console in front of him; it that ship so much as twitched its Drive blast in his direction, the next second it would be a cloud of plasma. And to be certain, he warmed the projectors with a few harmless blasts into atmosphere, to bring his heterodyne into peak energy range. Then he waited.
Circumspectly, with no way of knowing that Tregares projectors tracked Graf Spee, that ship landed—a civil distance from Inconnu and never hinting any threat of Drive blast. When Spee's ramp was down and the South Forty delegation came out to give greeting, so did Bran Tregare, accompanied by his First and Second Hats. Gonnelson didn't want to come along, but Bran told him he could merely shake hands and fake it.
Not far from either ship the three groups met. Tregare, waiting while Mayo Tolridge did the hellos and introductions, took an evaluating look at Ilse Krueger. Peace take it, she was small—a meter and a half, maybe, if that much. Slim but not fragile, and she moved well. Closer up he saw blue eyes with a barely discernible slant to match the Slavic cheekbones. Her blond hair, too short to hold a curl, lay smooth with only a slight hint of wave. Maybe that hair covered scars, but otherwise the Slaughterhouse experience showed only in a pale mark from above her right eyebrow back toward her ear. Of course, Bran reminded himself, limbs and torso no doubt carried worse souvenirs, because the woman had survived and graduated.
The introductions had got around to him and her. Her handshake didn't try to do anything much, but it wasn't limp, either. She smiled slightly, and said, "Tregare, eh? This is a fine occasion. "
"Right. " Then he said, "Congratulations on your Escape and command, Krueger. I don't think I know all the history. "
Obviously she knew what he meant because she nodded. "I see. All right; under UET this ship was the Bismarck. Captain was Garrett Trumbull. Doul Falconer was First Officer and I was Second; Doul and I, we—" She shook her head. "I'll never get over missing him. " Tregare watched her put her poise back together. "It was Doul who took charge of organizing Escape. I helped. The Third—hell, I don't want to remember the name of that little hyena. He's the one who got Doul killed. " For a moment her face went pale and gaunt; then, quite matter-of-factly, she said, "Once I had the ship secured, I found time to cut his ratty little throat. "
For once, Tregare had nothing to say. Krueger continued, "If it were up to me, I'd have named this ship Falconer, after Doul. But he'd picked Graf Spee, a joke he understood and I don't. So I've kept the name. "
"Sure. " Time to change the subject, so he asked where the ship had traveled since Escape, and what other ships she knew about. And mentioned the overall info net; she knew of it but had had only a few chances to feed it or draw on it. "Well, I put quite a lot of stuff in, here. You'll be getting it. "
Then he accepted her invitation to dine aboard Graf Spee.
Gonnelson and Prestor didn't like the idea of his going aboard this stranger ship solo, but he went anyway, saying that an unarmed craft in need of refueling was in no position to pull anything tricky. "Not with Inconnu here, and two armed scouts. "
"One, " said Gonnelson.
"They don't know that. " Anyway, Tregare's hunch said he faced no danger, so he went with it.
Kruegers Second Hat, an older man sporting no UET tattoo on his cheek, met Tregare at ramp-top and escorted him to captain's quarters. Wearing a light-blue outfit, something between a uniform and a jumpsuit, Krueger greeted him. She didn't have bourbon, but her Terranovan brandy was pretty good, and later Tregare enjoyed the dinner a lot. The main dish was a kind of stew or goulash; some of the blended flavors were new to him, but he decided they could be habit-forming in rather a hurry.
He was saying as much when the corridor door opened and in barged two large, sweaty young men. The sweaty part was easy to see because they were wearing only brief gym trunks. And they looked to be identical twins, obviously much involved with muscle-building routines. One pushed back his damp blond hair and said, "Done with our workout, captain. "
The other mimicked the movement, but lefthanded. "A shower will feel good. Then, may we join you for dinner?"
"Yes—may we?"
Ilse Krueger shook her head. "Not this time, Helmuth— Gregor. Captain Tregare and I have business to discuss. "
The two went into the bathroom, and Tregare said, "Couple of brawny lads there. " Deliberately he refrained from asking any questions, or so much as raising an eyebrow. She'd tell him or she wouldn't; he didn't care which.
She did, "They live here. With me. Would you like something more? There's quite a bit left. "
So Tregare ate again, slowly now for he was filling up. He wished the two youths would finish their stint in the bathroom—he had need of it himself. And finally he went in, anyway, to find Helmuth and Gregor fully dressed, just standing there.
He said hello and went to do his business, but Helmuth or maybe Gregor grasped his arm. "A word, captain. "
"Yes?"
"Do not involve yourself with Captain Krueger. "
"No?"
"No, " said the other. "We belong to her. You do not. " Then they left, and finally he could relieve himself.
When he came out, Ilse Krueger had poured coffee and some more brandy. She talked and he didn't, until she paused and said, "Is something on your mind?"
Tregare shrugged. "Not particularly. " Then, "Well, yes, now that you mention it. Why did Ajax and Hercules think they had to tell me to keep hands off you?"
"They did that?" She laughed. "Because they know me, I suppose. " Her eyes narrowed. "Are you going to obey them? Are you afraid of them?"
"Yes, and no. " She waited, so he said, "If you and I messed around, they'd sulk on you for a month. But they don't scare me. "
"Why not?"
"Same reason they don't scare you. Those little trunks don't hide much. People with Slaughterhouse scars make me cautious. Those boys don't have any. "
Again Krueger laughed. "I should have known. But we won't tell them, will we? It would hurt their pride. "
The charade began to irritate Tregare. "Let's cut the games. I have something important to discuss. " And he told her of his plan to gather a fleet of ships, the rendezvous at Number One and the approximate timing, and asked, "You want to be in on this?"
She paused, frowning. "I'll have to think about it. Offhand I like the idea—getting this ship armed, twisting UET's tail. But I have some commitments first. This network of yours—can I let you know by leaving word at message drops, and with any Escaped ships that pass within talking range?"
He shrugged. "That's how everybody else does it, who's not around to talk in person. Don't take too long, though, making up your mind. Rendezvous sounds like a long time from now, but don't forget how a trip or two chews time. "
"I won't. " Now Tregare stood. "Leaving so soon?"
" 'fraid so. I need to run through my checklist and set the — hour for lift-off. No point keeping the troops in suspense any longer than I have to. "
She stood also, put her hands on his shoulders and leaned against him. "Some other time, Tregare. "
"Could be, at that. " He knew she wanted some sign that he found her desirable, so he leaned down and they kissed. She was really damned good at it; for a moment Bran was tempted, and the hell with the muscle twins. But then he disengaged. "Some other time, Krueger. Yeah. "
Out in the corridor he was glad of the choice he'd made; both of the large young men were standing there, and he'd bet a stack that they'd been listening. They still didn't scare him, but not since boyhood had he taken pleasure in combat. Not since being introduced to the Slaughterhouse version.
