Accepting the Lance Page 12

  “She has,” Theo agreed, “which is why we should take some time to make sure our report is clean and professional.”

  “And perhaps soothing,” Kara murmured, “to a pain in the head.”

  “Right,” Theo said. “Kara, you were working on the libration point scans, we’ll want to deal with them first in the body of the report since those are effectively Surebleak orbital situations. I know Bechimo’s given you a lot of current information there…”

  Kara nodded, began to move toward her screen controls—

  Theo fingered not yet in pilot-sign, and Kara settled again into her chair.

  “Win Ton’s writing the intro since he’s got so much experience writing reports—” Theo continued.

  The former Scout snorted. Theo ignored him.

  “There’s vocabulary. You and Win Ton will want to make sure we’re using consistent terminology. The old reports he’s using as background were made by a mix of first-in Terran contractors, then ongoing piloting reports for the seventy years or so of heavy traffic. What we use to pull these together will probably set the standard for long-term report formats.”

  “No doubt there,” Clarence said agreeably.

  “On Surebleak,” Kara amended. “Perhaps.”

  “Surebleak could use some consistency,” Theo said.

  “Now, that’s so, Kara,” Win Ton said. “We serve the port.”

  “Very well. Joyita ought to also be in the vocabulary loop.”

  “Good idea. Joyita?”

  “I am eager to assist,” the comm officer assured her from his screen.

  “Good. Now, Clarence has been reviewing the incident reports from the early days; he and Bechimo have compiled a grid of incident types by distance from the sun and orbital plane as well as the Jump run problems. They’ve discovered evidence of two unreported meteor streams so far. So Clarence will write a pilot-side on that and Bechimo will put together the technicals.

  “Bechimo and I will be lead co-authors, since we were called on the portmaster’s carpet and fined; that’ll just keep it simple. If anybody else wants their name on the report as co-author, speak up.”

  No one spoke up. Kara went so far as to shake her head.

  “I think simplicity serves us all best,” she said and sighed, apparently struck by a thought.

  “I do wish that we had time to do a rush test on one of the libration points so that we may be certain of the density of the dust…”

  Theo signed understood.

  “While we can visit the libration zones, it would be good to be able to get more hands-on at four and five, so that’s for later.

  “Joyita, please put together a common work area where we can grow this.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  A flutter of fingers in peripheral vision. Theo spun her chair.

  “Win Ton?”

  “I wonder if we may properly invite TerraTrade to search their archives for old trip reports and incidents—crew reports from outgoing Jumps often do not come back to the planet of origin, you know. It would be interesting and perhaps informative to all parties.”

  Theo eyed him.

  “And it would let the TerraTrade survey team know that Surebleak Port is working to clean up its situation.”

  Win Ton opened his eyes too wide, feigning innocence. “Surely they could not object to such a laudable project?”

  “Port Surebleak has lifted the space weather alert.” Joyita waved a casual hand at a screen in his comm center. “All ships are advised to proceed in an orderly manner.”

  “Good advice wherever you find it,” Clarence said, and spun his chair to face Theo.

  “Now, lassie, tell me what you think o’them maize buttons.”

  Surebleak Port

  Office of the Road Boss

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  Having gotten their attention, Emissary Twelve was not, Val Con noted, in any great hurry to follow up her opening statement. Being Clutch, she might not think the pause overlong. Miri, however, was of a different mind.

  “The delm of Korval is before you,” she said, not very impatiently, “and eager to receive the message from the Elders.”

  “It is known among us,” Emissary Twelve replied in very nearly the same tone, “that the delm of Korval is two linked in partnership. I will await the arrival of the second partner, so that what I say will be fully known to both.”

  There was a very brief pause in which the crackle of Miri’s temper was loud inside his head.

  “I mean,” Emissary Twelve added, perhaps out of a fine instinct for survival, “no disrespect.”

  He felt Miri swallow her anger, and leaned back in the Road Boss’s chair, wondering how she was going to—

  The portside door was opened with enough force that the bell jangled and clanged. Miri, Emissary Twelve, and the boulder in the driveway vanished. He blinked, fully back in the Road Boss’s office, spinning the chair so that he could see the screen and Survey Team Leader Kasveini’s arrival, her shoulders set at a belligerent angle, her face tight.

  Nelirikk rose and stepped out from behind his desk, placing his considerable self between the angry woman and the inner door to the Road Boss’s office.

  “State your business,” he said, not gently.

  “I demand to speak to Val Con yos’Phelium,” she said, her voice absolutely flat, “on the business of his clan.”

  Nelirikk hesitated, of half a mind, as Val Con saw from his stance, to throw her out onto the port. Or perhaps merely to call the Watch.

  Neither of which was possible, given her melant’i, and Surebleak’s necessity.

  Val Con leaned forward and touched the switch set into the desktop.

  “Nelirikk, please let Survey Team Leader Kasveini through to me,” he said calmly, so very calmly. “Also, put the CLOSED FOR LUNCH sign up.”

  * * *

  He offered her tea, which she refused, as well as a chair. She would remain standing, she said icily. Her questions were brief.

  Taken on whole, Val Con thought, it was well that there was the desk between them. He rose, not so much as a bow to Balance, nor even because he didn’t care to get a kink in his neck from staring up at her. Rather, he wished to be able to move quickly should she decide to leap at him over the desk.

  For a woman who professed to have questions, and of a kind to infuriate, the team leader did not immediately speak.

  In fact, she took a moment, now that she was in his presence, to breathe, deeply and carefully, visibly calming herself.

  He approved of this and therefore said nothing, allowing her to gather what resources remained to her.

  At last, she looked directly at him and said harshly, “Am I speaking to Korval Himself?”

  He would rather have denied it. Direct petitions to Korval Himself had an unfortunate tendency to go sideways of expectations. However, she had asked and, while he might be able to deny the delm to a Liaden, who would grasp the subtleties, Team Leader Kasveini was Terran. She was sophisticated, in that she knew Korval Himself to be separate and distinct from the Road Boss, but that was surely all she knew, and this was not, so he judged, the best time for a lesson in Liaden social structures.

  So, then.

  “You are speaking to Korval Himself,” he assured her, as if it were a perfect commonplace to declare himself so in Terran.

  “As the leader of the survey team assigned to do a thorough and objective review of Surebleak Port for the purposes of determining a proper rating, I require information regarding Korval’s plans.”

  He waited.

  She drew in a noisy breath.

  “I need to know how many Clutch landings Korval expects to receive on average across the next ten Standards, as well as the number of courier ships and smalltraders it expects to land at the clanhouse, rather than on the accredited port.”

  Well. Nova had brought Spiral Dance down last night into Korval’s back field, from whence it had lifted, havi
ng been brought there as cargo by smalltrader Bechimo. Irregular, yes, but necessary.

  “I also need to know if Clan Korval intends to build an auxiliary or private spaceport on its property at the end of the road, and, if so—have plans been filed with Surebleak Portmaster?”

  That was merely sarcasm. Or possibly frustration.

  The delm of Korval waited. When nothing more was forthcoming, he deigned to speak.

  “Is this the sum of your inquiries?” he asked her, his voice icy, and, despite he spoke Terran, very nearly in the mode of the-delm-speaks.

  “It is.”

  They hardly needed the delm for this, Val Con thought crankily, but he supposed Team Leader Kasveini would have reasoned that these were not questions that fell within the Road Boss’s honor, and she did, indeed, have a certain need to know. Well, best to finish the play as they’d begun.

  “Korval speaks,” he told her, and paused. She looked momentarily wild-eyed, then produced a very credible bow in no particular mode, certainly not honor to the delm. The intent was plain, however, and the delm was able to overlook the violence done to protocol.

  “In the matter of the Clutch, the Pilots Guild, TerraTrade, the Liaden Port Standards, and the Scouts all agree that they will do as they will and, as they rarely do harm, or even mischief, no penalties accrue to any port or property where they may arrive. As a representative of TerraTrade, you are surely aware of this.” He paused in case she might wish to speak. Wisely, she made no answer.

  “It is true that Korval contracted with the Clutch for transport of the clan’s personal goods from Liad to Surebleak. The delivery and the manner of it was cleared with Surebleak Portmaster before the event, and it was performed within the parameters agreed to by all parties.”

  He inclined his head. “Today’s visitation is as much a surprise to Korval as it is to Surebleak Portmaster, the Scouts, and the TerraTrade survey team. Attempts are being made, as we speak, to determine the reasons behind this abrupt arrival. Had Korval been aware that such a visit was imminent, we would of course have alerted the portmaster.

  “As to any future visitations, perhaps the information gained from today’s arriving Clutch will clarify this further. At the moment, Korval may say that they expect none, across the next ten, twenty, or more Standards.”

  He paused, then asked, as gently as the mode allowed. “Have you any further questions regarding the Clutch?”

  Her anger had cooled under the chilliness of the Delm’s Mode; her face was still stern, but her shoulders had softened. He thought that, indeed, she was beginning to realize what she had done, and what it might mean to her, personally.

  “No, sir. I do not,” she said quietly.

  “Very well. We move to your second set of inquiry.

  “The smalltrader which arrived at Korval’s field was urged to land at port; the captain would have none of it and, as she is kin, and represented her case as desperate, she was given permission to land in Korval’s back field, after the portmaster had been properly notified.

  “The courier ship which landed also in Korval’s back field, lifted from that location. Again, the portmaster was apprised of both lift and landing.”

  He paused and considered her gravely. She looked, he thought, a little pale. She might even benefit from a cup of tea. Sadly, Korval Himself did not offer cups of tea to upstart Terrans who demanded that he justify clan business to them.

  “In the case of the smalltrader and the courier, had Korval’s yards at Surebleak Port been up to spec, the factors that made back-field lift and landings necessary to the clan’s purpose would not have existed.

  “Clan Korval is working with the port to bring its yards to full capacity, a circumstance that will benefit both the clan and the port.”

  He paused once more.

  “Surely, you were able to find the contacts between Korval and Surebleak Port in the portmaster’s logbook.”

  Team Leader Kasveini was looking markedly unwell. Korval Himself naturally had no sympathy, though the Road Boss might have expressed concern.

  “They were,” she said, her voice admirably steady, “recorded in the portmaster’s log, yes. It had seemed to me, in my capacity as team leader, that Surebleak Portmaster was too willing to allow irregularities when they involved Clan Korval. I sought to be certain that this was not the case.”

  Therefore, the delm judged coldly, these inquiries did fall within her honor. Though they might have been brought forward more gently.

  He inclined his head.

  “I ask, as Korval, if you are satisfied that there is no collusion between Korval and Surebleak Portmaster, and that Korval is held accountable for its transgressions against the port.”

  “I am, yes.” She cleared her throat. “Portmaster Liu shared with us the parole she has given the ship Bechimo and its crew for littering the lanes.”

  He said nothing, and after a moment, she produced another well-intentioned, if somewhat shaky, bow.

  “Thank you for your time and for your patience,” she said. “I will leave you now.”

  She did so.

  Korval Himself glanced at the screen, seeing that she was properly escorted to the portside door.

  The Road Boss leaned forward and pressed the intercom button.

  “Nelirikk, please lock the door,” he said. “We are going to the Emerald.”

  • • • ✴ • • •

  Credit where it was due, Emissary Twelve knew how to create a moment, Miri thought. Unfortunately, her timing on the punch line needed work.

  She counted to one hundred forty-four, twice, aware of Val Con’s interested presence, and then spoke, patient as she could, which wasn’t very. “The delm of Korval is before you and eager to receive the message from the Elders.”

  Large yellow eyes, slitted like a cat’s, regarded her solemnly.

  “It is known among us,” Emissary Twelve said, sounding a little testy herself, “that the delm of Korval is two linked in partnership. I will await the arrival of the second partner, so that what I say will be fully known to both.”

  Miri’s temper sparked. Both? When he was right here with her?

  “I mean,” Emissary Twelve added, “no disrespect.”

  Miri took a deep breath. Well, no, ’course she didn’t. Val Con was at the port, fair enough, and only in her head because they were lifemated—not an advantage Emissary Twelve shared. Still, she supposed she could make a push to explain that he could hear what she heard, right now, in the interests of getting news of this oncoming disast—

  There was a noise inside her head, and Val Con was—gone. Oh, she could still see his pattern and feel him—astonished, was it?—but he was no longer absolutely present in her head, looking out from her eyes, hearing exactly what she heard.

  He had, in short, another problem.

  Miri sighed.

  “Very well,” she said to Emissary Twelve, “the point is yours. It will be some few hours before the delm may complete themselves. I ask—will the well-being of the planet suffer by this delay?”

  Emissary Twelve blinked her yellow eyes. “Not at all,” she said composedly. “I had anticipated a time of waiting.”

  Miri nodded, and waved a hand toward the house. “Will you come inside and take your ease,” she asked, “while waiting is?”

  “If it is not a breach of courtesy,” said Emissary Twelve, “I am charged with a message for the Elder Tree from he who is known to the delm of Korval as Edger.”

  That, thought Miri, actually solved a problem. Svelte as she was, there weren’t so many rooms in Korval’s clanhouse that would accommodate Emissary Twelve without rearranging the furniture.

  “I will be happy to conduct you to the Tree,” she said, which was actually true. “If you will walk with me, we can do that now.”

  • • • ✴ • • •

  Pat Rin will have to be told the whole of it, Val Con thought, as he and Nelirikk entered the Emerald Casino. Not only the survey team, but abou
t Emissary Twelve’s arrival and provocative assertion, Theo’s bargain with the portmaster…

  “Pray find your nuncheon,” he said over his shoulder to Nelirikk. “I will be speaking with my cousin.” He paused, and added, “I may well be some time. Please amuse yourself until I return.”

  “Scout.” Nelirikk didn’t quite salute, but he gave the impression of having done so, and moved off toward the kitchens where he was a general favorite among the staff.

  Val Con continued toward the restaurant where he could see Herb, the daytime ’tender, behind the bar. He approached and put his boot on the rail.

  “Afternoon, Boss!” Herb said cheerily. “What can I get for you this fine, warm day?”

  It wasn’t, to Val Con’s sensibilities, a particularly warm day, though it was less cold than the day before, which he supposed could be made to support “warm” for a native Surebleakean.

  “Is Boss Conrad’s door open?”

  “Alla time for you, ain’t it?” said Herb easily. He nodded at the screen set on the work surface. “Says on the schedule, he’s got no appointments.”

  “Thank you,” Val Con said. “I’ll show myself up.”

  * * *

  Pat Rin rose, smiling, as Val Con crossed the threshold.

  “Val Con! I was just wanting you! What…” He paused, smile contracting into a frown.

  “I see,” he said, and pointed. “Sit. You want a glass of wine. Have you eaten?”

  “It’s early to eat, surely?”

  “Surely,” his cousin answered from the wine table at the back of the room. He approached, a glass in each hand. He gave one to Val Con and put the other on his desk while he punched a button.

  “Maynif, good-day to you. Please send a light nuncheon for two to my office. Thank you.”

  He settled into his chair and raised the glass in half salute. Val Con matched it. They drank.

  “Now,” said Pat Rin, putting his glass aside. “Tell me.”

  • • • ✴ • • •

  They left Jeeves’s chassis in the driveway with Emissary Twelve’s runabout, which was nothing like leaving Jeeves behind, though Emissary Twelve didn’t necessarily know that. And even if she did, Miri thought, it wasn’t like the Clutch was here to kidnap or kill her.