Long View - Zelde M'Tana Part 19

The door was open. Behind the counter a man stood; beyond were three desks.

Two sat vacant; behind the third was a heavy blonde woman. Zelde walked in; the man looked up and nodded.

"Help you?"

"I'm off the Great Khan-Third Officer M'tana." Acting Second, now-but why bother to say so? "Mr. Cort Verrane called. Ms. Torra Defose, with the Police, asked me to meet her in this building. You happen to know just where that would be?"

"One moment, please." The phone was a hush-set, so she couldn't hear what he said. Then he nodded and put the phone down. "The small conference room-five-oh- three, 160.

next to Administrator Verrane's office. That's in the penthouse, you know."

I could of guessed. But she smiled, and thanked him.

The elevator took its time coming down; the indicator showed it stopping quite a while at each floor. Waiting, Zelde remembered her first elevator, and the Utie who made fun of her for not knowing what it was. How long ago, planets' time? If she remembered to, she'd ask Parnell.

Finally the door opened. Three people came out; one man entered with her. At each floor, some got on or off. One woman, small and elderly, rode with her to the penthouse. There the older woman turned left and went into 502. The door read "Conference," but while it was open, Zelde saw that the room was large.

503, the other way, had the same sign on it. Zelde walked past Verrane's office to go in, and saw a table with eight chairs. In one of them, Torra Defose sat. But not for long-the woman stood and held out a hand to Zelde.

"Come sit down. I've ordered up some coffee; we might as well be sociable."

"All right." The dark lean face showed no sign of what Defose might be thinking.

As usual, she talked quietly. What's it about? But Zelde didn't ask.

For some reason of her own, Torra Defose nodded. She began to speak, but the door opened and a boy carried in a tray, with a coffee urn and six cups, plus "sidearms"- cream, sugar, and spicemix. He looked at the two women and cleared his throat. "I thought-I mean, will there be more of you, here?"

The Policewoman gestured; he set the tray between her and Zelde. "It's my mistake. I said, coffee to the small conference room, and forgot to say how many.

Thank you."

When the boy left, she said, "I told you, you'd earned some reward money. You didn't come to collect."

Oh, is that all? Relieved, Zelde tried not to show it. "Yeah, but I said, then, go ahead and keep all of it. Remember?"

Torra shook her head; with the motion, her short black hair ruffled slightly.

"You'd give up what's yours, before you'd go to Police HQ. That's it, isn't it?" Zelde didn't answer; the other sighed. "There's this thing between your Service and mine.

I wish there weren't." She poured the 161.

coffee, adding sugar to her own. Zelde took the other cup, and sipped.

The woman said, "That's why I asked you here, rather than go to your s.h.i.+p. I knew I couldn't expect much of a welcome." Her mouth twitched-almost a smile, but not quite. Still, Zelde said nothing.

"How is your First Officer-the man who was stabbed?" Then, looking: "I see your ear healed nicely. Perhaps it's not much comfort to you, but the effect, now-it's striking."

Zelde had to grin. "Thanks. And Dopples-Mr. Adopo-lous-he's been slow getting his strength again. Cut up bad, he was. But he'll make it."

"I'm glad. And I have something here for him. The man he killed-that one bore a reward, too. I brought your officer's share of it."

"Mr. Adopolous, he'll thank you, I'm sure."

The woman handed Zelde two envelopes. "Both sums are in standard Weltmarks, not local scrip. Since you're leaving soon."

What to say? "I do thank you, for me and Dopples both. And 'specially for taking time to come way up here." She paused. "I suppose you're busy and need to get back, so maybe-"

Defose gestured. "I'm in no hurry. And we have lots of coffee left. So unless you're due back on duty-"

Thinking fast, still Zelde knew she'd waited too long for the lie to sound true. So she said, "Not right away, I guess."

"Good. Let's talk, then. Partly business, I admit." Oh?

"About that thing, happened in town-there's just not any more we know about it.

Any of us."

"That's not what I have in mind." Then what is? "Part of my job is keeping tabs on the general climate of opinion- off this planet as well as on it. And the s.h.i.+ps are our only source, really, for offworld information."

"The commandant-he's got our log, a copy of it, off the computer. I expect that's got all the news in it."

"Official news, yes. But what I need is the scuttleb.u.t.t."

Careful, now. "Rumors? n.o.body can keep track of all that c.r.a.p-anything you want to hear, and no two alike."

The woman's hand was on Zelde's-and nearly the same size, though the other wasn't as tall. "I'm not talking about 162.

content; what I want is flavor. You know what I mean, M'tana; you've had the training, or you wouldn't have your job."

"Not regular officers' training. I got promoted into a vacancy; you know that."

"Quit fencing-I'm not accusing you of anything. What I need to know is, is subversion a problem on the Great Khan?"

That one took some translating. Then: "Any place, there's griping-s.p.a.ce, same as groundside. b.i.t.c.hb.i.t.c.h-b.i.t.c.h-but still do the work, anyway. You know?"

Defose nodded. "Of course. Whether it's serious, though-that depends on the target."

Watch it! This was the Committee Police their own d.a.m.ned selves, and don't forget it! Zelde shrugged. "Target? Whatever. The job's run wrong, the watch chief plays favorites, the chow's lousy. You name it, you'll hear it. I-"

"Those things don't cause real trouble-'you know that as well as I do. Tell me, Zelde-on the Khan, is there much talk of Escape?"

Sometimes truth was the safest lie of all. Zelde let herself smile. "Escape? h.e.l.l-I haven't heard anybody pus.h.i.+ng that idea in maybe the last six months. s.h.i.+p's time."

Torra's slight frown smoothed out. "Encouraging- because it's usually a favorite subject among the lower ratings. Your captain must be running a good s.h.i.+p."

"He's the best, Parnell is." Zelde spoke without thinking, then saw by the woman's face that she hadn't made a mistake.

Defose nodded. "That opinion-it's the basis of a sound s.h.i.+p. Or of any other stable operation. I've dealt with a lot of people in my work, including quite a few s.p.a.cers, and it seems to me that if more of them had the knack your captain appears to have with his subordinates, then perhaps we-" The woman seemed to be looking past Zelde; then she shook her head. "I wish-well, some situations will always have more problems than others, I suppose. All right; I'm done with my questions. Do you have any, about things groundside here? Or must you return to the s.h.i.+p now?"

"I should, yeah. Maybe sometime else, we could talk." And in a way, Zelde almost meant it. Leaving the room, 163.

she thought, Why did the Policeb.i.t.c.h have to make it so hard not to like her?

As she walked toward the elevator-Defose, making notes on a clipboard, had stayed behind-the door to 501 opened and Amzella Verrane beckoned.

"A moment?" Zelde stopped, then went to the doorway. No one else was in the office; the three desks were vacant. The blonde woman smiled, her big jaw moving slightly. "How went your interview with the high Police powers?" High? Maybe Zelde's surprise showed, for Amzella said, "Defose is second in command of Police here-fifth for the whole planet. You didn't know?"

Zelde shook her head. "She never said so. Anyway-all it was, she brought reward shares for those G.o.dd.a.m.n robbers. Mine and Mr. Adopolous', both."

Amzella's brows raised. "And that's all?"

"Asked about the s.h.i.+p a little, sure-how things are. Well, about like always, I guess-and better than most, she seemed to think."

"If that's true, you're lucky. The last s.h.i.+p here-well, never mind. Now-the Khan's cleared to lift, day after tomorrow; is that right? I notice that leave parties have been stopped already. Why so soon?"

"If you know liftoff time, it's more than I do. But that's Parnell's way. He don't care for chasing down drunks and shackups, last minute, or else lose crew.

Everybody's had liberty, anyway-and except for Dopples and me that time, not hardly any trouble. We-"

Verrane grinned. "s.h.i.+ps' people usually do take care of themselves pretty well.

For your ear and your officer's wound, three dead-and we're glad to be rid of them."

"That's good." Time to leave. Shake hands, maybe? Yes. "Well, good luck, Ms.

Verrane."

"And to you."

This time the elevator came fast, and made only two stops on the way down.

Everybody on coffee breaks? Probably.

It was hot enough outside that Zelde worked up a sweat, walking.

"And that's all there was to it, Ragir." He sat on the bed, wearing shorts and holding a dark, strong-looking drink - 164.

not drunk at all, but stretched out some way, for sure. The pills? No-she'd looked, and he was only the one over quota.

"That we know of, you mean." His voice came thin and strained, but he nodded.

"You're right, probably. Defose seems to have taken a liking to you-if anything Police do or say can be trusted. And the other one-well, you made points with her when you eased the mess between Cort Verrane and the guard. So on balance, I'll go with your opinion."

She'd showered but hadn't toweled. She stood, sipping on a big mug of Parleyvoo beer, liking the way her skin felt as the water dried on it. "So we're all in clear now, you think?"

"With Parleyvoo, yes."

"Then what else?" Because he didn't look like off the hook.

"Peralta-he's coming here. Maybe for dinner, maybe later. I couldn't pin him down-or turn him away." For an instant, Parnell looked very old. "And I'm not ready to power-jockey with that man."

She set her gla.s.s down and began ma.s.saging his neck and shoulders, careful to be easy on the bad parts. "Parnell, love-you don't need to jockey that one none. You want, I'll take him out for you."

From his tired slump, he straightened. "What do you mean, take him out?"

She leaned to kiss him, then pulled back and grinned. "Fight or screw or drink him down-whatever. Just say the word."

He laughed; it turned to coughing; he fought it and won. "No. You can't fight Peralta. I'd have trouble with him, even on my best day, which this isn't, d.a.m.n it!"

Now he shook his head. "And I won't have you whoring for me- that's out. The drinking part-if that works as planned, all's well. But-"

Her free hand covered his mouth. "Now you listen." She let him push the hand away, but he didn't speak. "Ragir- if you was, right now, what you really are, you wouldn't need no help. But you're not-so I have to do stuff, maybe, that I don't like much. For us both-you see?"

She waited, but he didn't answer. So she said, "Dopples told me-Dopples. That the s.h.i.+p comes ahead of his life- 165.

and mine, too. For me he took a knife in the gut, and he don't even like me." Her eyes were watering; she shook her head to clear them. "Now, if he can do that, I can do any d.a.m.n thing I need to do-for the s.h.i.+p, and for you. And don't you argue!"

It was a long time he looked at her. Maybe, like Zelde herself, he remembered Eldra Siddenour. Then he said, "You're in charge of tactics, Zelde. You're in charge."

At the ramp she met Peralta. She and Parnell had waited dinner for an hour and then eaten. Nearly another, hour later, Peralta called to announce his visit. In twilight now, he climbed the ramp and shook hands.

"Evening, Mr. Peralta."

"And a pleasant one-Ms. M'tana, isn't it? Did you see the sunset?"

"No. We was inside." She turned and led him ups.h.i.+p. At quarters she opened the door and let him go in first. Parnell sat at his study desk; before rising he put a hand to his mouth and then swallowed coffee. Pep pill-and held off it 'til the last minute.

Then he stood, his hand held out. Peralta went to shake it, and both men sat.

"Zelde, will you do the honors? What's your fancy, Ji-mar? We're still well fixed for Earth whiskies."

From under his loose jacket, the visitor brought out a bottle. "First treat's on me- remember? To celebrate your command-and of course Captain Czerner's promotion." For a moment Parnell frowned; then his face relaxed again. "This brandy, Ragir-it's special stuff. The last bottle I have left from the time the Bonaparte visited Stronghold."

Stronghold-the fortress planet, where UET kept a fleet of armed s.h.i.+ps. The only other thing Zelde knew about the place was that it lay on the far side of Earth from UET's other explorations. As the men talked, she watched more than listened.

Peralta had his tension under better control tonight.Why?

"No," he was saying, "Admiral Saldeen retired. Korbeith runs Stronghold now, I've heard-Korbeith the Butcher." He laughed. "In that job, he won't be throwing cadets out the airlock, at least." He sipped the brandy, and looked to Parnell and to Zelde. "How do you like this stuff?"

"It's excellent, Jimar. I thank you." And Zelde smiled, and nodded; the tart, heavy liquor was really very good.

166.

Parnell cleared his throat. "I didn't know you'd s.h.i.+pped with Korbeith."

For a moment, Peralta's eyes closed to slits. "Just once-and luckily it wasn't my first trip, so I was relatively safe." He leaned forward. "Do you know whose first trip it was, though?" Parnell shook his head. "Tregare's-Bran Tregare's."

Zelde saw Parnell looking at her. Waiting for her to speak? All right. "Is that the one they call Tregare the pirate?"