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2507: The Star Trader Chronicles

Episode 11: Collision Course

Zahirah Sayar glanced through the double saloon doors that separated the café from the bar where she could see that Cowboy was playing cards while one of  Ruby’s Girls had draped her arm over his shoulder. Zahirah assumed that once the game was done that he, and the girl, would vanish.  Cowboy likes women so this was not unusual. Every time the doors swung she could see the whole table.  The pilot, Ian Murphy, had folded his hand and was watching the game drinking his beer in silence. Zahirah noted that in a few weeks his hair had grown in and it was a bit grayer than before the U.E.F. had shaved his head clean on Kobuk Prime. This was the last mark his arrest had left on him that anyone could see.  The bruises they had given him on the passage to Kobuk had faded but the nightmares lingered.

Zahirah thought about the cold planet and trading her BID for Ian’s life. The thought of him sitting in that place made her skin crawl and the idea of him spending the rest of his natural life on that planet made her angry. Anna Jannula would use Ian just as she used her son Ilari, her now dead husband, Aleksi, and her. Zahirah  had been a pawn, no more no less, and the BID had just been simply a token of that status. Zahirah was angry with herself for being swayed by sweet words and falling in love with an idea. She had been made into a fool and the one who did it was Vil Jannula, though it may have been that Vil didn’t consciously do it. Vil was always full of sweet words and Zahirah had been attracted to him at one time. He was more like her brother than a lover and at the time he had been good to her, but now it fell short.  She had grown up, she had changed and what she needed three years ago was not what she needed now.

Rose McWerter had come into the café from what everyone euphemistically called the street and settled at the end of the counter, ordering a cup of coffee from Zahirah who left her post at the grill to talk to her friend and crew mate.

“You really should talk to Ian about the BID,” Rose pointed out, and not for the first time. “I mean, he has to have an opinion about it, and something of a stake in it, don’t you think he should know the reason why?”

Zahirah looked over the counter at Rose and set the coffee  down in front of the Lady’s financial wizard and Brock’s cousin. She sighed and glanced around the café for a moment. “Actually at this point I would rather not discuss it, and here’s the reason—I don’t know how to express or put into words what I feel about it.  It felt like the right thing to do.”

Rose raised her eyebrows, “That’s a pretty good way to put it.”

“Hungry?” Zahirah wondered, glancing at Rose for a moment before her eyes dropped to the objects on the counter. “Rose I'm not like you or Win, I'm not educated and I am not good with words.”

“Being educated has little to do with it, but I understand your point. No, I'm not hungry right now, thanks. How long have Ian and Cowboy been playing?” Rose wondered looking behind her and through the swing doors.

“Pretty much the whole time I've been here working the grill.”

“Eventually Ruby wants Cowboy to give her a hand at getting the Hole’s inventory straight, Cowboy told her that he has some ideas on how to make it more efficient, so he and I are going to lend a hand.”

“Inventory?” Zahirah laughed softly “He has the Lady’s all in his head. That sounds like Cowboy. Who would have thought that he would have a memory for that kind of thing? I like to take him with me whenever I have to stock our stores because he can tell me whether or not I already have a jar of peanut butter on hand or not.”

“I was just grateful that he was able to get me out of the pickle with those men Overlinger sent that day I went to the bank in Nashville.”

“Tony Dante and Chet Flores,” Zahirah shrugged. “At least that was Ian’s theory.”

“I don’t know them,” Rose shook her head.

“Maybe it was them and maybe it wasn’t, for the simple reason Ian said that those two were muscle that Overlinger liked to send in.” Zahirah looked over at the table and noticed that Cowboy was raking in his winnings and Ian looked amused.  Zahirah went back to working the grill, turning the eggs, flipping the pancakes and loading the plates, bringing them to her customers. The small café was always crowded it seemed.

Rose said she was leaving and Zahirah watched her for a moment as she cleared Rose’s coffee cup and poured another for a waiting customer.  Manning a café was something she was good at, something she had done to support herself on Earth before she hired onto the Lady. It was as if the routine had become second nature, but still she felt unsettled as if Rose’s questions left doubt in her mind once again.

When she looked up through the swing doors, Ian and Cowboy were gone, the game over.  Zahirah thought about Cowboy and the girl for a moment with a gentle sigh.  The last few weeks had been difficult for everyone to say the least and to see Ian at the card table had made her smile. Ian usually didn’t play cards, but somehow seeing him trying made her smile.  Being at the Hole wasn’t easy for Ian and it always seemed like he was on edge as if he didn’t know what to do with himself in a place like this. He enjoyed not having to tend to the ship but he also wasn’t comfortable with having his freedom either.

Freedom.

The word made Zahirah think about the day Ian was released from the U.E.F. hospital where he was being held after his arrest. They had brought him to the facility where once, many years ago they had put the AI chip in his head, and she was afraid that they would remove the chip as well, killing him or leaving him with so much trauma that he would be no more than an idiot. It was something he feared, his nightmare. Anna Jannula had gotten him from regular U.E.F. control and under her own. Zahirah had bargained with the parliament member giving her the BID in exchange for Ian’s life. It was the only thing of any value that she had to bargain with.  When the ship was ordered to leave Kobuk Prime her heart had broken. There was no sign of Ian. She had felt very hopeless at that moment and when she felt the engines fire and the ship lift…. It all shattered.

It had only been hours later, in the small hours of the ship’s night that she understood what had happened. How Ian was given the uniform of a U.E.F. grunt so no one would notice him walking around and how he snuck aboard the ship before the order for her to leave was given.  He had to slip away unnoticed as part  of the deal.  Anna Jannula had given him this one chance and if he didn’t take it, then he would have stayed on Kobuk Prime for the rest of his life, and to prove she meant it she handed Ian Zahirah’s BID. Anna Jannula had gotten rid of the embarrassment of having Zahirah, a commoner, in her family when Zahirah gave her the BID and renounced the engagement Vil had arranged for her. Zahirah had given up any hope for an easy life when she surrendered the BID. She had no claim to the world of the Firsts any longer.

She had been laying on her bunk with her back to the door when Ian slipped in her quarters well after the ship had left Kobuk control. He had talked some with Brock and Rose before he sought her out.  She had not been in the galley when he emerged from his hiding spot on the bridge…and actually he wasn’t hiding. He knew they would be lifting so he had gone through the pre-departure procedure without anyone noticing the engines were already warmed and the nav computer set. She had scarcely heard the sound of  reunion from her quarters with the door closed. What sound she heard didn't register in her mind. Rose had told her later that it was tearful and Ian even got a kiss from Oro. But that wasn’t what Ian wanted and he excused himself to find her. It wasn’t a secret where she was, Rose had left her alone to cry it out in her quarters when the order came through to get the ship out. Everyone on the ship knew what she had done with the BID, they might not have known the reason behind it, but they all knew that she had tried this one last desperate attempt to free Ian and it seemed that it hadn’t worked, that she had failed. Cowboy said it was a gamble and gambling was something he knew very well.

Ian had walked in quietly and laid his hand  on her shoulder softly for a moment before he bent and kissed her. He said nothing until they lay together after making love.  He told her how Jannula had gloated that she had gotten what she wanted in the end, both in terms of information from Ian’s chip and the BID. She had her son under her thumb and she liked it that way. Zahirah was no longer a stain on the family, an embarrassment. What Anna wanted, she generally got.

Zahirah glanced around the café a moment and saw that someone else had walked in and was putting on their apron to man the grill. Zahirah took hers off and hung it on a hook walking out into the cool corridor.

The Hole was built into an asteroid and it offered natural protection from U.E.F. scanners and prying eyes. Only ships that had been given clearance codes were allowed in. It was considered, by those who knew, to be a safe haven, a sanctuary in a hostile universe. They all took turns helping out where they could and this cooperation was the price they paid to have somewhere they could call home.

Zahirah walked by the ship and saw Nova working with a welding torch in the cargo bay. It seemed like there was always something for Nova to work on.  Ian knew how to make some repairs and he was good with the electronics but Nova had a knack for fixing things where as Ian had to work at it. Having a full time mechanic made life easier. Once in the galley Zahirah looked around and with a sigh decided she really didn’t feel like cooking at the moment. She had been cooking all day and the prospect of more only left her cold.

“Why the heavy sigh?” Ian wondered.

“Long day,” she said simply.

“Cowboy got us a job,” He said with a shrug and a small grin.

“A job? How did he do that? We have been here what? Forty-eight hours and he found a job?”

“You know Cowboy, he loves to make deals and he made a few at the table today, and it wasn’t just cards either.”

“Brock says he has a knack for it,” Zahirah sighed. “Like you have a knack for piloting, Rose has a knack with numbers, Oro for danger, Win for healing—“

“You for cooking and keeping us in line,” Ian added with a smile. “You are the one person I know that can take the most odd ball things out of  stores and make the best dinner. It's an art.”

“I don’t feel artsy tonight,” she sighed.

“What about a long hot bath over at the Inn?”

Zahirah smiled slightly because this was one indulgence, something they all craved and coveted. The Lady had two showers for seven crew members and because of the water tank situation on the ship, they were limited in how many showers they took and how long the showers lasted. A mechanical timer on the water kept everyone honest, though Zahirah thought that the way the crew was, it was probably unnecessary. Many times they skipped allotted shower times to simply save water.  Nova’s dream was to find a more efficient recycling unit and end their water woes. Until that time, they made do. Being in port became a game—who could find a bath first. Ian usually lost out because he usually stayed with the ship. It was a glorious sin to soak in a tub of hot water or stand in a shower until the skin on the tips of fingers became prunes.  There were many times during a long passage that someone would lament not having a tub and feeling dirty because five minutes just didn’t cut it. But it could be worse, they could have only three minutes, or less! Water was at a premium and conservation a key part of life.

Privacy was also at a premium on such a small ship, everyone respected a closed cabin door. More then once they had all gotten a little rammy, and were hit with mild cases of space fever (aka cabin fever).  Ian had the luxury of having a wee bit more space on the bridge, but it wasn’t much. Even he got a bit fed up with manning the ship at times. The ship was part of him and he of  her, but there were times he wanted to be somewhere else, doing something else, and it was nearly impossible for him to make that break.

Zahirah glanced at him for a moment and sighed. No one had said anything about the night of Ian’s return, and Ian had said nothing of it either. “What job did Cowboy get? Or win?” she wondered aloud dismissing the thought of that night.

Ian chuckled, “Moving food processing equipment from a factory on Khinen-le to Delta Atascadero.”

“Win would like seeing the farms I suppose, considering all the plants she has in the infirmary.” Zahirah thought about how Win was now selling some balms and teas made from the plants she had grown. This was a new hobby of the doctor's, and tending her medicinal plants gave her a sense of purpose. “Still, it sounds rather mundane.”

“It is, but it's lucrative,” Ian agreed.

~~~~~

“What are you thinking about?” Zahirah wondered as she set the mug of coffee down. Here on the bridge it was quiet and he was alone. Ian had the old hand drawn map in his hand and he was studying it as he so often did, lost in thought.

“I was thinking about Sam,” he said.

“Sam?”

“Sam Thatcher, the engineer I lost on Transport 5665.”

“Do you know where that is?” she wondered as he carefully folded the map and put it in his pocket.

“Yeah, I do,” he said softly.

“Where?” she wondered.

“New Prov,” Ian sighed gently. “I think of Sam when I think of this. Anna Jannula made me remember it when she…downloaded the AI’s memory core. It wasn’t pleasant.” He looked at her and rubbed her arm. “In fact it's rather akin to rape, but—“

“It's OK Ian.”

“In some ways it's not OK to have someone just take what they want, use what they want. But, I—what am I going to do? It was like when Sam died, the only  thing I could do then was walk away. Part  of me still wants revenge, part of me understands how someone like Richards exists. I could have been part of his crew, taking the fight to them for what they did, or their indifference to her death. It would have been so easy.  Sam was a lot like Nova, a natural engineer.” Ian fell silent and glanced at her when she leaned over and slowly kissed him. “I don’t know, but why the old woman gave us this map is still a puzzle to me. How would she know what was on New Prov and connect us to it?”

“She was mad, Ian,” Zahirah sighed.

“Was she? I'm considered mad. By some people’s measure, I am considered mad.”

“You’re not,” Zahirah smiled softly.

“But it’s a very, very fine line,” Ian held up a finger for a moment before studying her. Zahirah was not the most beautiful of women, her face was what many would consider plain with a slightly large nose, dark hair, dark lashes, eyes the color of honey. Sam had been beautiful like Oro, just not as blond but every bit as strong willed and harsh tempered as Oro could be.   She was a cross between Oro and Nova. What Ian liked about Zahirah was her no nonsense approach and her strong will. She was abrupt and in your face sometimes, willing to debate but extraordinarily compassionate when need be. She cared, and cared deeply. Ian thought about the old woman for a moment and rubbed Zahirah’s back.  Sam forced matters, made things happen how she wanted, but Zahirah took it as things came, molding herself to the situation.  He missed Sam, but he missed her more as an engineer.

“What is that a map to?” Zahirah wondered.

“Hmm? Oh. A stronghold on New Prov. Overlinger’s, I think. He sold arms to the natives, or so Jannula said. He would divert shipments of U.E.F. guns, sell them and use them against the U.E.F. so we didn’t have the right shielding, because the shields were designed for older weapons systems, not state of the art fire power. There are also allegations that some of the work was sub par and inspectors were paid off in the ship yards, so ships went out with shoddy construction and parts that were not up to spec. It was…and is pretty damning stuff. My chip had the evidence though from the failures, how it failed, why it failed….that was what Jannula wanted. To build a case against Overlinger.”

“That was never made clear to us what was going on. Ilari never said why. We were working in the dark and wasting time waiting.”

“They were going to nix the chip you know.”

“I knew,” she said softly. She didn’t want to add that she had been afraid of that happening and that was what pushed her to act. It seemed at the time that nothing was going to move Jannula from her position, or sway her argument.  Brock had tried everything he could and it troubled him deeply.  The crew, Rose, simply didn’t know what to do when Brock sat defeated and depressed. It was like his heart was being cut out, and no one wanted to discuss it.  Zahirah had felt the pain that Brock expressed, except that this cut her in an all new way, scaring her. She couldn’t discuss it even with Rose because she wasn’t certain of her heart.  She spent many hours staring at the ceiling of her quarters trying to sort it all out, much as Ian spent many hours alone on the bridge, as he had been doing when she brought him the mug of coffee. She knew trading the BID was a dangerous move on her part, and stripped her of any and all protections it offered, but it felt right.  She could not let Ian die or worse be left a gorked-out wreck with no future.

“I'm not afraid any more Zee, I'm not.” He looked at her causing her to frown.

~~~~~

“What's going on?” Zahirah asked as she walked into the café and saw that all the customers were gathered around a  potable monitor.

Butch, the 62 year old leader/founder/manager of the Hole in the Wall glanced at her as she put on her apron.  “I take it you haven't heard, then.”

“Heard what?” she wondered with a frown searching Butch's weathered face for an answer and finding none.

“The listening post was monitoring the entertainment feed from Earth,” Butch sighed.  He swallowed gently but didn't finish his thought.

“What happened?” Zahirah blinked.

“Three Indie ships were blown up on the tarmac by the U.E.F….on Yishuv.”

“Y--!”  Zahirah gulped and came swiftly around the counter and crossed the room to where she could look around the shoulders of some of the other crews that were watching the feed.

“….Also arrested were several known dissidents including their lawyer, Moshe Sayar.  The removal of the kibbutz was deemed necessary by the government as many of the known dissidents used it as a base of operations. We will pass along the names of the ships when it is known to us and if there are any further press briefings.  Back you in the Studio.  Reporting  from New Jerusalem, Yishuv for the United Earth News Network, I'm Loraine Cochran”

Zahirah stood numbly staring at the network anchor as the others turned away to go back to their coffee.

Butch placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Moshe Sayar is related to you?”

“My brother,” Zahirah said softly. “What was he arrested for?”

“That is unclear at the moment,  we just don’t know,” Butch sighed.

Zahirah watched the picture that was displayed behind the talking head.  It showed the burning wreckage of a ship, bright orange flame leaping and black smoke billowing.  It looked utterly gone. She wasn't sure how long she stood watching the images on the screen or how long Butch stood there with her, but it seemed as if time was crawling to say the very least.

Ian came in the café and looked at Butch.  “Walt wants you at the listening post.”

Butch nodded and gave Zahirah's shoulder a small squeeze as he walked away. Her eyes followed him for a moment before she looked at the monitor, staring at the picture.

Ian put his arms around her, “I just heard the report on Moshe, and—“

“I don’t understand Ian,” she whispered.

“Nor do I,” he sighed gently rubbing her back.

“Moshe isn't a bad person,” she lamented “And that kibbutz was a farm, a settlement—it wasn’t some terrorist breeding ground like they make it out to be.  They grew wine grapes, grain for bread—it was my aunt’s home!”

“Zee,” Ian said his voice thick with emotion.  He placed his hands on her cheeks and lifted her  face so he could look into her eyes. “Zee it will be OK.”

“OK, is not—“ she huffed her voice edgy.

“Shh, don’t cry over this now, we don’t even have the answers yet.”  Ian kissed her softly, “I'm going back to the post where I can watch the direct feed, OK?”

“Ian, what if they killed my family?” she wondered. “Moshe, Sarah—What about those ships?”

Ian shook his head, “We…I don’t know. I just don’t know. This just broke, literally and no one knows much. We are all still trying to sort out what is fact and what could be fabrication.”

Zahirah watched Ian walk out for a moment and sighed gently before she walked back to the counter where the customers were waiting.

~~~~~

 Ian paced as Brock opened the whiskey bottle and poured out two measures into the glasses on the table.  “What is going on? It's like the universe has gone insane or something.”

“It’s a mess, that’s for sure,” Brock said as he capped the bottle and set it down looking around his quarters.  Even though Brock’s quarters were larger than the others, it still was cramped.  He listened for a moment to see if he heard Oro, Nova, Cowboy and Win elsewhere in the ship.  Rose and Zahirah were in Rose's quarters.

Ian glanced at Brock and picked up the glass he offered. “Mess doesn't begin to cover it Brock.  What if the Norse Wind was destroyed for carrying grain, does this mean that the U.E.F is really cracking down and we are all in trouble now?”

Brock sighed thinking about the press conference coverage and the way the reporters swarmed Anna Jannula as she tried to make her way into the parliament to meet with the heads of state.  She was angry, ashen and pale and on the steps  as she vowed an investigation.

“Its been coming,” Brock said softly. He cleared his throat and looked at Ian, “I'm worried that with all the changes that are going on that any protection you had is now gone.   I didn't want to say that in front of Rose, but these changes run deep.  I'm just afraid that somehow your name will get tied to all of this somehow,” Brock sighed.

“What do you think really happened with the Norse Wind?” Ian wondered thinking about the breaking news that the Norse Wind and two other ships were the ones that the U.E.F had systemically destroyed on the tarmac in New Jerusalem. "not just the Wind, the  Comstock Load and the Ramapo Mountain.  Brock those are ships you and I know—Casey— Vil--"

Brock shook his head, “If I had my druthers I would say that all of this is linked.  I just am puzzled as to why the U.E.F would have destroyed those ships on Yishuv’s soil and then destroyed that settlement? The U.E.F usually didn't intervene in the politics of Yishuv, it was a well known fact that they cooperated in many, many ways.”

“It’s a repeat of how they handled New Providence. It started innocently enough until they were caught in a no win situation.” Ian said.  Having been there he knew he shook his head and tried not to think of Sam, but that was difficult.  There were too many ghosts in the system at this point. “They have been trying to crush them for years, make it unprofitable for them,” Ian sighed. “at least that is what Zee told me. That there is a strong movement to shed the old ways and maybe that is why the U.E.F slapped them.  They want the status quo, and the Jannula's upset the apple cart.”

“Would her brother have been involved with that?” Brock wondered. "Some kind of rebellion?"

“I don’t know,” Ian sighed, shaking his head, “I honestly do not know.”

Brock looked at Ian for a moment, “What about telling Zahirah that Vil is gone? Do you want me to…?”

Ian took a deep slow breath and sipped the whiskey.  Brock was right, he needed this drink. “I don’t know how to tell her. She put in a long day at the café, I haven't seen her work like that since we were in Nashville. She turned in exhausted.”

“Nashville seems like a long time ago,” Brock said softly. “Like another life time or something.”

Ian set the empty glass down and pushed it with his fingers a moment, thinking about Vil Jannula. “It was, it was a long time ago, a lot has happened.” Ian shook his head and thought about Zahirah in the café slinging the hash in the heat. It wasn’t much different then how he saw her this afternoon.

Except for one thing.  The first time he saw her she was still healing from a brutal beating, the one that had caused her to miscarry Aleksi Jannula’s child. It had happened eight months earlier and while the scars didn't show on her skin, they were there in her heart.  Vil and Ilari had just left Earth on what turned into an extended trip.  They abandoned her to Nashville and working the café was her way of trying to make ends meet.  She didn't make much as a waitress, but anything and everything helped.  It would still be months before Overlinger got control of Brockman Freight and fired Ian, Casey Carlson and several other pilots and captains that wouldn’t toe the line, Brock included.  Ian had watched Zahirah work those tables with determination, that she wasn’t going to knuckle under and feel sorry for herself even if fate had been cruel.  Zahirah had spent months waiting for Ilari and Vil to show up, just as she had done this last time after Vil had handed her the BID and then vanished.  It was a pattern, a pattern that Ian suspected she was tired of.  She had been used once again. Ian thought about scribbling the name of the Lady on that napkin in the desperate hope that she would listen to him.

He knew she was sleeping right now, but he  really didn't want to wake her, even to tell her that Vil was dead, that he died with his ship, he did not want to wake her  The burning ship on the news had been the Norse Wind. But he had to, he just had to.  She was always haunted by the specter that Vil might turn up and want to know why on Earth did she turn that BID over? Would he, Vil, even accept the logic that she didn't love him and that she couldn’t honor something like that when it was a lie to begin with?  He lied, with pretty words, trying to cover the abuse his father had allowed to happen, but she lied as well.  She lied the day she left on the Lady.  Telling her that Vil was dead would finally, finally remove the shadow, finally they could admit what had been festering for a long time. It would be time to tell the truth.  At one point Zahirah probably did love Vil and Ilari, but they were her brothers, more than her own blood brothers, but she didn't love them any more.  It was that simple.

Brock snorted interrupting Ian's thoughts. “That much is very true.”

“Id better wake her and tell her, I owe her that much.” Ian sighed and rubbed his face. He stood up and drained the whiskey. He didn’t look forward to this.

“Ian—“

“Hmm?” Ian looked at Brock.

“Tell her gently,” Brock said handing him the bottle.

~~~~~

Ian quietly slipped into her quarters and set the bottle down on her tiny desk.  He studied the line of her shoulder and hip in the dim light.  She turned and looked at him sitting up and rubbing her face.  "What is it?" she wondered.

"That ship we saw on the news was the Wind," Ian said softly and bluntly. So much for Brock's advice. "The crew was lost with the ship.  All hands. It's over Zee.  It just over."

"Vil is dead," she looked at him.

"And Arn, Boris and the rest.  Killed right there on the tarmac. They didn’t stand a chance." Ian sat down and pushed the bottle. "Fucking U.E.F"

Zahirah slipped out of bed and put her hand on his shoulder. "It's like Sam."

"What, that they just don’t give a rats ass about life? Yeah it's just like Sam." He turned and looked at her, "But it's over. The whole bloody matter is over."

Zahirah uncorked the bottle and looked around for a glass.  All she had was a coffee mug. She drank the water she had in it and poured a splash of the whiskey. She offered him the mug.

"I had enough with Brock," he said softly. "it shouldn’t have ended like this, it just shouldn’t have."

"And you would have wanted the story book end? Where the prince isn’t killed?"

"That was the wrong way Zee, it was as cold and heartless as being spaced."

~~~~~

Ian had gotten up before ship’s dawn and was working with a hand held comptab when Oro walked in.  Ian glanced at her as she sat down with a cup of coffee.

“This is vile, you brewed it?” she wondered.

“I never pretended that I was a cook,” Ian smirked. “Late night or early morning?”

“What do you think?” Oro smirked back.

“That maybe you had a hot date from amongst one of the crews here?” Ian glanced at her.

“I did not have a hot date,” Oro sighed.  “What are you so engrossed in anyway?” she wondered picking up the old worn paper map that Ian had sitting on the table next to the vile cup of coffee he had poured and now had allowed to go lukewarm. “Where is this? Have you figured it out?”

“I think I have, it's something that was kind of buried in my mind with cobwebs and dust all over it.”

“Where?”

“New Providence.”

Oro sighed and shook her head, “Why would that old bag give us this?”

“That I don’t know,” Ian rubbed the edge of the tab a moment.  “What would you say it would take to run a salvage operation?”

“Salvage?” Oro blurted “With Nova’s skills that aspect isn't an issue, but given that the U.E.F has stepped up operations, and had begun to actually enforce some of the laws, salvage is a risky proposition.  This is a map to a wreck location?”

“Possibly,” Ian shrugged.

“You are talking a salvage operation in a war zone, now how smart is that?  What are you hoping to get...arms? ...Scrap metal? I don’t even think that Vil Jannula would do that and he had to have been one of the shrewdest operators there was, with the biggest set of balls.  Getting in would be hell as you know, and getting out? Right!  The only one I know that would have the gall to pull something like that is Richards, and I don’t even think he would do it. Not now.”

“You don’t even think that with my knowledge—“

“Actually we don’t know what the current situation is, you haven't been there in years, and I don’t have access to records.  I'm saying that the place was hell and that things change. It's too great a risk to go in with a ship like this, I would advise against it.  We may have the skill, but this? No. She's a good ship, because we have worked on her but she is not capable of going into a place like New Providence.”

“Fair enough,” Ian shrugged.  “What about getting people in?”

“Ian didn't you hear a word I said?” Oro sighed. “No one is going to insert there. what is it you want there so badly?”

“Peace,” Ian glanced at her.

“Peace? You are not going to find peace in hell, Ian.”

~~~~~

“Are you all right?” Rose wondered as she watched Zahirah washing her face.

“Ill be fine, just a little hung over,” Zahirah admitted with a small smile and a glance at the door. Her head throbbed slightly and the cool water felt good on her eyes. Her stomach quaked a bit, but then again, the news was unsettling as well enough to make someone sick.

“Brock said he—I'm sorry about Vil, really I am. Brock told me about the news last night.”

Zahirah stood at the sink quietly for a moment and looked at the washcloth in her hand. At least here at the Hole they were hooked up to the asteroid's water system so it wasn’t an issue that the water was still running.  Zahirah turned it off and sighed. She looked at Rose, “He was my friend and— I'm not going to mince words Rose, there's no use in it. What happened has happened, and I am more troubled by the fact that the U.E.F destroyed those ships on sovereign soil. They destroyed seed grain, grain that could have fed a lot of people. They took my family Ro, that—“ Zahirah shook her head. The thought of Moshe in jail at the hands of the U.E.F.

“That is far worse,” Rose nodded.  “Ill cook breakfast this morning. But I wouldn’t drink Ian’s coffee. Apparently he tried to poison Oro already.”

Zahirah smiled slightly at the thought of Ian trying to make coffee. That was amusing.  At least he didn't try to bring her a cup!

Zahirah watched Rose walk out of the lav and breathed a soft sigh.  At least Rose didn't say anything about Ian spending the night in her quarters. She wrung out the wash cloth and pressed it to her eyes for a moment,  letting her thoughts settle before  she walked out into the galley and looked at everyone sitting around. Oddly it seemed she was the last one up, when usually she was the first.

Ian walked in from the bridge and stood with his arms crossed.  “Anna Jannula has just condemned the destruction of those ships on UFNN. She said nothing about the Wind, just a general condemnation of the act. The U.E.F has put out a general order that only First flagged freighters will be allowed to bring goods into the First core planets like Halcyon.”

Zahirah knew that Anna Jannula was the kind not to let personal feelings get in the way of her politics so no word about the Wind or her son didn't surprise her at all.  She sat down at the table next to Cowboy and Brock. Brock glanced at her for a moment without saying a word. Brock had more class than make a comment about giving Ian the bottle and then spending the night in her quarters in front of the rest of the crew.

“We are First flagged, right?” Oro said glancing at Brock. “Technically, because you are a First or am I mistaken?”

“No, you're correct, “ Rose said.

“We just operate in a manner more like an Indie,” Brock shrugged,  “in fact I consider myself Indie, but technically you're correct, we are a First ship and Brockman Freight was a First Company until Overlinger took over.  It still is, but--”

“But Overlinger stole it,” Ian shrugged. “To quote an old book, some are more equal than others, and that is the case here.”

Brock glanced at Ian for a moment before he nodded silently.

~~~~~

 Ian was watching the newscast and groaned gently causing Oro to glance at him. "Tired of the tripe?" she wondered. Ian was sitting at the galley table with one eye on the monitor as Nova and Oro moved within the galley proper.

"Seems like the same lies they always weave, just change the names.  No wonder I like being out and away from the Firsts.  I am convinced that they were just slapping Vil because he continued to defy them, like Del Vista.  He was warned that if he carried on he would be hit. He was hit, no doubt."

"But why is Ilari, who is just as guilty, not being slapped?"

"Because Ilari lost his sense of humor and drank the poison.  He is his mother's little pet. Look at Vil, he always thumbed his nose at her, all his life." Ian gestured at the monitor and felt rather sarcastic and bitter.  The whole matter of the Jannula brothers was not sitting well with him at all.

"Or so Vil said when he was on the Lady.  I didn’t know Ilari as well,” Oro shrugged.

"Ask Cowboy they used to play cards together on Freehold," Ian sighed thinking how far away Freehold seemed at the moment.

Nova glanced at the news as she got a cup of coffee.  She had been helping another crew with some heavy repairs to a cargo bay door.  A motor had to be replaced and the hydraulic lines that actuated the door also needed new seals.  It was a large heavy job.  "Rumor going around is that they were carrying grain that was banned from use on Yishuv."

"But why was it banned?" Oro wondered frowning at the mechanic Nova,  who seemed to be like Cowboy, and on her visits to other ships, helping out,  picking up rumors like mad.  Cowboy picked them up sitting around at the card tables.

"It was developed to grow well with lower moisture requirements.  It was drought tolerant. Also banned from being taken in there is farm equipment like harvester-separator units that cover large acreage and water treatment units and pumps.  There's all kinds of crackdowns. If Brock needs me I will be over on the Ozark Sage."

Ian nodded and glanced at Oro, "What are you doing, manning the listening post?"

"Perhaps. Zahirah slinging hash again?"

"And Win is putting band-aids on scrapes." Ian watched the newscast out of the corner of his eye.  They were showing some kind of map.  Ian paused with his coffee half way to his mouth and stared at the map.  He put down his coffee and fished the piece of paper out of his pocket and looked at it.

"See something?" Oro wondered.

Ian suddenly turned the paper over and held it up to the light. "Oh shit, Oro!"

"Oh shit, what?"

"This map…is that map. We’ve looked at the mirror image this whole time!  That is where the old woman wants us to go!"

"Yishuv? That’s a map of their space port."

"Member what I said about salvaging a wreck?" Ian said with a frown.

"Ian you are not going to convince Brock to go there…no frick'n way!" Oro sighed.  "Zahirah's family is dead or imprisoned there, her fiancée was killed there—Ian I have a very, very bad feeling about that. In fact I think you're mad.”

“It's Yishuv—“ Ian protested.

“It’s a war zone  We don’t know how many of those U.E.F patrols are still there, or why exactly the Wind was blown up there!  It could have been a message that Yishuv was getting out of line and that the U.E.F was going to exert their rights, or it could have been someone on Yishuv destroying those ships out of spite—“

“An inside job?” Ian glanced at her with a raised eyebrow.

“And the U.E.F is taking credit for it so it doesn’t look as if there is terrorism going on within Yishuv itself.  What if those ship were destroyed by a Yishuv group, sympathetic to the U.E.F?”

Ian shook his head, “We don’t know what is going on, but I think this reeks of New Providence.”

“Everything to you reeks of New Providence!  Did you ever think that war could have started with an inside job, and its been going on for what? Fifteen years?  Its one lie that has propagated itself!  And how would you know what actually happened? You were working for the U.E.F and don’t you think that the U.E.F would want to put their own spin on this, just like they are spinning Yishuv?  Who profits from these wars anyway? Have you ever thought of that?” Oro looked at him hotly.

“You worked for the U.E.F too, Oro.”

“And I saw a lot more then I wanted to, but I didn't walk away like you did,” she snorted.

“Are you calling me a deserter?”

“You bet I am,” Oro glared at him.

“I'm not a coward Oro.” Ian said hotly.

“I didn't call you  a coward, I called you a deserter.”

“Which is one and the same in your book, I know what you Marines were like.”

“Yeah ? and you pilots were a bunch of spoiled rotten brats!” Oro exclaimed.

“Brats?! When we dropped your asses down on those hell-hole worlds?! We got shot at too—with a lot more than you did. Our butts were on the line.  I felt ships die in my head, Oro! I saw your kind die and I could shut it off because I was part of the ship!  How do you think that feels?  I'm no coward!”

“Then why did you walk?” Oro hissed

“Because when I got 5665 into base she was all but dead. My engineer was dead.  Half my crew was dead, and 5665 was so damaged the pain was physical  I almost lost it bringing her back.  Do you know how hard it has been to work with the Lady? Some of these last few trips have been hell, and it scares the shit out of me to the point I almost canna run this ship. It hurts, it hurts a lot. I don’t want you sounding all high and mighty, accusing me of being a coward, I am taking this in the ass Oro and it isn't pleasant! Yes, I am a deserter and you know why? Because if I hadn't walked I would be dead and I have a little more survival instinct  than that.  The U.E.F didn't care what it did to its pilots, there were always more where they came from, just like there were more grunts.  We were not human to them Oro, not by any stretch.  And neither are the people who live on Yishuv!”

Oro looked at him coldly. “I still say you are mad, and walking in there is a death sentence. How do you know that Yishuv isn't an occupied world?  There's a lot that hasn't been said if you ask me!”

Brock was standing in the door way when Oro stormed out, leaving in her wake a confused captain.  “What was that about?” Brock wondered looking at Ian for the truth.

“She accused me of being a deserter,” Ian said softly, knowing the anger was still raw on his face.

“This whole matter of  Yishuv has polarized a lot of the captains and crews, everyone is on edge,” Brock said as he got some coffee and sat down.  He looked at the map and raised his eyebrow.  “I thought you had given up on that as being the rant of an insane old woman.”

“It’s the spaceport at New Jerusalem,” Ian said softly, trying to stifle his anger and bury it.

“Our treasure is there?” Brock almost laughed.

“She is, was, mad Brock.  What kind of treasure can be found in the wreck of three ships, two dead captains that we knew and—“

“Casey was your friend,” Brock said. “Your captain.”

“But Vil—“

“Was Zahirah's fiancée,” Brock shrugged.

“That whole thing was a farce and a lie Brock, a sham, if you were.” Ian shut his mouth because he realized that Brock, while close to all of them, didn’t realize just what had happened and discussing it wasn’t an option at the moment.  Ian was angry and was afraid he just might shoot his mouth off if he went further.

“Still,” Brock said softly.

“This whole thing hurts Brock.  Something smells about it.  The more I look at it, the more it smells rotten.”

“Alright, how so?” Brock wondered.

“The ships were either lured in and destroyed or someone has something to gain.  If Overlinger—“

“Overlinger?” Brock said skeptically.

“Oro said who would have the most to gain from a war, and I can't help but think if Overlinger wants to really profit, he would be pushing matters in just that direction, buying ships so that he would have a monopoly on bringing goods in.  Who opposed him? Jannula in Parliament, her sons in shipping and black market trading undercutting him, Casey Carlson who knew his game and ran Indie.  And you, because you opposed his takeover of Brockman Freight. Which was his bid to get the strongest shipping firm with the fastest ships. You know his game and to what lengths he would go or how low he would stoop You know how he worked behind your Da's back, undermining him, brain washing him, while you were out playing he was bein' brain washed.”

Brock sighed, “That is a compelling argument.”

“He's a predator and he has been hunting for a long, long time. I think our trick is to figure out where he isn't and aggressively work those areas.  Which may mean leaving this all behind and going out further were it's more dangerous. Overlinger will dog you until the day you die, Brock.”

“Pleasant thought,” Brock sighed.

“I'd like to go to Yishuv and see for myself those ships. Bury Casey if I have to, I owe her that much.”

Brock sighed, “There will be very few shipments there, because of the risk. Finances as they are, we cannot dead head to Yishuv.  We cannot afford it.”

“Conversely we could make a lot of money, daring to go in there with carefully selected loads,” Ian pointed out.

“I don’t even know what's out there,” Brock pointed out.  “It will take time and careful feelers.”

“I know, I didn't say this was an overnight operation.”

“No more fighting with Oro,” Brock pointed at Ian.

Ian just glanced at Brock as he got up and walked aft to his quarters where Rose was waiting to discuss the books with him. “Only if she stops first Brock,” he whispered.

~~~~~

“Rose, do you have any clue what is going on with Ian? He has said some rather odd things that just do not add up.” Brock wondered and started fishing for answers from his cousin.

Rose looked up from her ledger as Brock sat down on the other chair.  “Odd as in how odd?”

“That Zahirah’s engagement was a farce and a sham. Is there something going on that I am not aware of or am oblivious to?” Brock wondered. “He was fighting with Oro not fifteen minutes ago.”

“First of all Brock, you cannot know everything that goes on in your crew’s heads, so if someone has a problem or a concern, you don’t always know about it.  How many things have you not said about your father, about business, about Wanda? Your crew are just as human as you are and all with their own little reasons for not saying something or keeping their privacy. Ian’s chip is just an example.”

“Why would Ian say that Zahirah's engagement was a sham then?”

“Because maybe he just sees it in a different light than we do,” Rose pointed out.

“Everyone is so on edge with this Yishuv matter that I don’t understand what is going on in some cases.”

“Well Zahirah hasn’t said much about her family or about Vil, so I wonder if she has just bottled it all up and maybe she said something to Ian that came out incorrectly. Sometimes, we don’t hear what is actually said. None of us is perfect. She does bottle things up, I mean as far as I know she has never discussed the BID with Ian, so maybe she just said something and he heard it wrong.”

“She hasn’t expressed regret,” Brock frowned.

“She hasn’t, but I have the feeling she was in mourning of sorts after she handed that BID over.  She never said how she felt, internalizing it all.” Rose shrugged. “That’s her way. She is able to keep her chin up through some pretty ugly situations.”

“I'm afraid she will crack,” Brock said softly. “But—“

“But what?” Rose wondered.

“How short are we?” Brock pointed at the ledger.

“Just a few thousa, it's close,” Rose sighed. “What are you worrying about Brock? That we have lost business being stuck here? Walter did invite us.”

“Ian wants to go into Yishuv, he thinks that old map is…well... that’s what it's of.”

“I don’t know Brock,” Rose shook her head. “Treasure? There?”

“He has a point, many will not risk going there now, and maybe the time is for bold action. But I can't do it unless we have a full crew that believes in it. That simple. One doubt and it's all shot to hell. All for one and one for all.”

“What jobs are there going to Yishuv?” she wondered with a frown twisting her brow.

“I don’t know yet, I haven't put any feelers out.  Butch said if we leave we are exposed, but I also can't stay.  I know, I know eventually we have to show ourselves. We cannot stay here forever, we don't make money that way. We do have the contract to go to Khinen-le, with papers this time so there will be no problems in port like we had last time.”

“And being bold—“ Rose speculated.

“It’s a risk. We risk Overlinger trying to stop us once again. Ian thinks that the events on Yishuv tie back to Overlinger. He said to follow the uni’s.”

“Ian has a pilot's instinct for finding the best course, he may not be able to tell you why one course is better than another, but he knows that it is.  Maybe he sees something we don't.“

Brock nodded, “Maybe.”

Rose got up and started to head out of Brock's quarters when she stopped and looked at her cousin.  “Brock is there something else on your mind? The contracts to take food processing equipment?  Nova said there's a rumor that equipment of that sort was banned from shipment to certain worlds.”

“Rumor, we don't know for certain,” Brock sighed. He fidgeted a moment and  watched her leave. “We don't know anything for certain any more.”

~~~~~

Ian stood at the end of the cargo ramp and looked around the cold bay.  There was no point in heating this part of the Hole, and the chill got deep into the bones after a while.  Ian pulled his jacket around himself a little tighter and drew in a deep breath.  The bay smelled of ships and other odd scents that only a dock would smell like.  He watched people moving around their ships working to load cargo or doing repairs.  Nova was on top of some ship, he guessed the Ozark Sage, with her welding torch in hand and she was busy chewing someone out. Oro and Cowboy were walking together towards the portal that lead to the maze of corridors hewn from the asteroid.  They had brushed passed him a minute or so ago.

He looked at the hand drawn map in his hand once again and sighed.  Why did the old fortune teller give him this, and why was it the spaceport at New Jerusalem? Was it the wreck of the Norse Wind? What did it mean?

Ian folded the map carefully and put it back in his pocket.  What ever this meant one thing was clear, Vil Jannula shouldn't have died that way.  He was murdered.  He was murdered just as Lyle Brockman had been when he was pushed through that window.  No one falls from a window like that, he was pushed and Ian was convinced that either Tony Dante or Chet Flores had done the pushing.  Maybe someone else like that wretched Demetri  Korsinchenko who was rumored to be working for Overlinger now.  Even though Ian had mixed feelings about Vil that had only grown more sour as time went on, he didn't deserve to die in that manner. Overlinger was a coward, and liked to murder those who stood in his way. Ian wouldn't be surprised if somehow Overlinger was behind Vil's death somehow.

The matter with Oro still lingered.  She still considered him a deserter.  Ian felt as if trying to explain, in a calm manner, why he walked when Sam died, was pointless.  Oro had also lost people she was close to, and it was part of her reason for mustering out.  In Ian's case he knew he couldn't muster out.  Pilots were usually not allowed to and chip pilots especially were just not allowed to walk.  Their missions were so dangerous that most pilots died with their ships.  There were a few non-chips that mustered out over the years but these were an exception to the rule.  Most left as cripples, wounded so severely that they were useless to the U.E.F That was a little known fact that they neglected to tell you when you were recruited.  They painted the whole thing as glamorous especially to the likes of a poor Shannon teen who just wanted away from the poverty,  away from indifferent, borderline abusive, parents who saw no future and no hope.  Ian didn't know if they were dead or alive, but he suspected dead, drowned in alcohol crushed in poverty.  Shannon was a breeding ground of cheap, despite labor.  Someone from Shannon was willing to sell their soul for a bite to eat, a bed to flop on and the Firsts didn't care what the conditions were.  They had a pool of laborers and that suited them just fine.

Ian felt his anger smoldering when he looked up and saw Cowboy and Oro as they passed  Zahirah as she came out of the portal.  It was a stupid argument over a stupid thing, yet her implication hurt because that was what the U.E.F grunts had called him as they beat the crap out of him on the interceptor.  He had arrived on Kobuk bruised and sore, longing for a gentle hand and longing for some peace.  He knew he was going to die there, far away on a frozen world at the hands of people who couldn't care less that he was human.  In fact they treated him like a piece of equipment, with indifference.

When Jannula put the BID down on the table, Ian picked up the green disk and ran the fine familiar chain through his fingers, he knew.  He knew he had to take whatever she offered, follow her every word.  That green disk was his only link to all that he held dear, it was a little piece of Zahirah in a lonely cold place.

Ian didn't listen to Jannula's mocking, self-righteous tone, he just let the chain move in his fingers, his head aching in a dull manner, emotionally he was numb. He didn't know how she had gotten the BID, just that it was there, and he didn't dare ask questions.

Ian glanced up at Zahirah, watching her talk with Oro before she started walking across the bay towards him.

Did she know how much she meant to him now? How much her sacrifice of the BID meant to him? How could he ever express what he felt, how her accepting him as a human, felt?  She accepted him, seeing his AI chip as only being part of him not what defined him.  As she put it, it is part of you, but it isn't you.  Even Sam, who was used to working with chip pilots, never accepted him that way.  Sam probably didn't think any more of him as anything other than an object of gratification.  They fought when they were in port, they tumbled passionately in port, but on the transport they were all business.  Ian lived cloistered off from the rest of the crew for the most part, except meals but because she was the engineer, they had more contact then he did with say the medical officer.  He didn't mix with the grunts at all.  He saw the rest of the crew and the grunts through the comm system, a filtered vision of life on 5665.  He watched them die and couldn't shut them out because of the comm.  The ships nerves were his nerves and when she was so damaged and Sam dead, he nearly died then himself.  He was in agony when they turned the AI interface off when they reached the repair docks.  He was beaten and sick.  All of it captured in the black box memory module in his chip.   Anna Jannula would have to know that the Lady carried an AI, the raw data was there...god if Brock...

“Ian are you alright?” Zahirah's hand was soft and warm on his cheek.

“Huh?” he jerked his eyes open and looked at her. “oh. It's....oh.” he rubbed his brow. “I just realized something. Shit.”

“What is that?”

“We gotta leave, and leave now. I think I just fucking spilled the beans about this place to Jannula.”

“How?”

“Downloading the AI. I donna know how much was written to that blasted memory module. I know 5665's data was, but I donna know if the Lady's is. If it is, then whenever I'm in, it's recording. How do I tell Butch?”

Zahirah looked at him carefully for a moment, “There's no way to know is there? Nova couldn't download it, could she? How often do you run connected?”

“I try to avoid it as much as I can.  Shit.” Zahirah rubbed his arm trying to sooth him. Ian shook his head. “I just fucked up the entire works.”

~~~~~~

Late that night, when no one else was up, or around, Ian slipped down the series of ladders into the belly of the Lady.  Her two shuttles were down here, designed to be used like dinghies they were carried in their own docking cradles.  No one seemed to ever have a need for one, and it had been a long time since Ian had climbed down here.  He operated the small lock and slipped down into one looking at the control surfaces as he settled.  He could theoretically make it as far as Freehold in one, but the question was how would he leave without everyone noticing their pilot was missing.  When they were underway, it was a small matter to launch.  Here was another whole set of issues.  Dropping away from the body of the Lady was impossible, the way she sat on her landing struts, and someone would notice a shuttle being moved around.  Then there was the small matter of getting out the bay doors, which Butch and Walter controlled with a clenched iron fist.  Nothing and no one came in, or left,  without their knowing.

Ian sighed and let his head fall back against the seat.

Freehold was five days away.  It would be simple to get there.  He needed money though, and because his pay was tied up in the operating funds for the Lady, he didn't have cash on hand.  Even if he could jump to another outbound ship, he didn't have the money.

He didn't want to see the crew banned from the Hole, that would be like losing a home or something.  At the same time though, if Jannula had that information she could squash this place instantly.

He would have to leave Zahirah behind, he would have to leave her when she was already emotionally shot through with the death of Vil.  Somehow he couldn't do that, not after Kobuk. Yes the matter with Vil was down right complicated, but he couldn't leave her.  Vil had abandoned her twice, and if he did it---that would shatter her.  He was there both times Vil pulled his stunt and he watched her patiently wait.  She took it in stride but he knew inside she was hurting.  Vil had done a number on her and Ian didn't understand why she put up with it.  Maybe she didn't, but rebelled against it in her own quiet way....what did he know?

Ian's hands rested on the steering yoke and sighed.  There was no good answer here,  none what so ever. Plan A was out, plan B shot down....was there a plan C? He didn't know.

~~~~~~

Brock opened his door and rubbed his face, glancing at Zahirah who stood there in the middle of corridor, barefoot and in her pajamas, which consisted of a loose tank top and a shapeless pair of shorts.

“What is it?” Brock wondered, himself fuzzy after her knock woke him up.

“It's Ian, I think he might do something stupid,” Zahirah sighed.

“Occasionally he has been known to pull rash stunts, but what is it this time?”

“Leave.”

“Leave?” Brock blinked at her as she stepped into his quarters.

“I think he is looking for a way to vanish,” Zahirah sighed.

“He--” Brock looked at her the words sinking in.  “He does that. Did that. What is it this time? Why? I don't think he is trying to duck the U.E.F or Overlinger here.”

Zahirah sighed, “He thinks he accidentally told Jannula about this place.  He has it in his mind that he has ruined a safe harbor.  I'm worried Brock, he—this cut him very deeply, worse than knowing that Overlinger knows about the AI.”

Brock sighed slowly and looked around.  “How did he reveal the location?”

“When Jannula downloaded all the data from his chip.”

“And he specifically told me that I should never talk about the chip to Butch because we need this place.  We need a safe place to breathe. When did he realize this?”

“This evening after I came back from the cafe, since then he has been a nervous wreck, pacing and fidgeting.” She sighed, “I'm afraid he will either go to Butch or simply find a way to leave.”

“And there's no other choice in his mind,” Brock winced and gently put his hands on her shoulders. “He sees things in a very black and white manner sometimes.”  Brock studied her for a moment and realized it was really bothering her for her to come to him like this.

“Brock, I don't think I can take this, I mean I don't know how.  I want to help, but I don't know how.  I love him and I just see vanishing as wrong.  Wrong because I know he is loyal to you and to this ship, yet he sees what he did as the ultimate betrayal, he doesn't like biting the hand that feeds him.”

“Jannula took that data against his will,” Brock said slowly.  Jannula had manipulated them all for her own gain.  She got Zahirah's BID, she took Ian's information,  she manipulated her sons and her husband...she was a strong willful woman, but she also had a warped sense of what power meant.  Brock knew what Ian's fear was, that once the U.E.F knew of the Hole, they would be wiped from existence just like the Norse Wind and the Comstock Load or even the kibbutz on Yishuv.  Ian didn't intentionally give the information out, it was torn from him. “It seems like every time we turn around there is another crisis. Where is Ian right now?” Brock paced his room a bit and leaned on the back of a chair.

“I don't know,” Zahirah shrugged.  “He couldn't sleep.”

Brock sighed and decided he didn't want to know how she knew that. He blinked and looked at her again. How did she know that?  Ian and Zahirah were....? A few more pieces fell into place and Brock shook his head.  Brock rubbed his face and walked out of his quarters glancing around.

He was torn with the urge to laugh and the urge to yell for Ian.  He stood there for a moment and heard the sounds of footsteps on the ladder coming up from the engine room.  Ian popped up a moment later and looked at him filling up the corridor.  Ian's quick glance to Brock's left made him realize that Zahirah had stepped out as well.

“Ian--” Brock started.

“What am I suppose ta do Brock?”

Brock sighed sharply, “I don't know but running isn't an answer anymore than staying is. How likely is the possibility that she  knows?”

“I don't know for certain,” Ian winced. “I mean I cannot access that memory module with my own head, so I have no clue what is on it or how much is on it.  No one ever told me how far back the recording goes.  They use it when they loose a ship, so they know how the ship failed.  When I worked for your dad, I never used it, so there is twelve years of no data there, and I don't know if the Lady's data is recorded because her AI is slightly different than a U.E.F unit, I can read her but I don't know what she is capable of.  I don't know if there is a line of code to record data or not.  I assume that there might be, but what I know about the AI has been trough deduction, not actual....they don't hand you  an owners manual when you get this thing.”

“Were you running it when we pulled in here?” Brock rubbed his chin as he often did when he was mulling things over.

“I've been over this and over this Brock and...I don't think I was.  I know it wasn't engaged this time and I'm fairly certain I wasn't using it wasn't engaged when we came in with Eiserman.  Brock, if I screwed this up--” Ian leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “I hate this thing, I really hate it. I think I want Win to nix it, if we can find a way.”

Brock took a deep breath and studied Ian, “You don't know what that will do.”

“No, I don't.  There's only rumors and speculation,” Ian shook his head. “If it can be downloaded without damage, then maybe it can be nixed with out damage.  Their doc didn't seem that concerned when they fucked with it.  Or maybe they didn't care and I was just another slab of meat to them.”

Brock glanced at Zahirah  She was not looking at Ian.  She quietly turned and walked towards the lav. “Ian,” Brock looked at his pilot.  He had the impression that talking like that made Zee sick and he didn't blame her. It was making him sick.

“It could kill me Brock,” Ian said softly. “I could be the half wit that Overlinger said I was on Osterick.”

“Ian we will find a solution, but this is not the answer. Listen to me, if you disclosed this location, it probably is so lost in the rest of the data—you don't know for certain, anything.  Second—you gave Zahirah a chance when you asked her to join the ship--”

“An' she gave up her BID--”

“Ian, she has fallen in love with you, and after Vil? You--”

“She didn't love him!” Ian exclaimed,  “That was the sham, you never picked up on that did ya?  He never touched her, he just would say things that-- He strung her along playing on her emotions like....it was hell to watch her getting jerked like that! He played games with her, as he plays games with smuggling—played games. He played with her like she wasn't human or something.  I hated watching her get used like that.”

“How long have you been sleeping with her?” Brock wondered with a frown.

“How long--?” Ian stammered.  “Nashville."

“Nashville?”

“Brock-- he abandoned her and—it just happened. It--” Ian turned several shades of red.

Brock sighed, trying to dispel the anger and tension.  “Ian, stop and think.  I don't think Jannula knows about this place. I really don't.  Here's why.  You don't use  the chip unless you have to.  You told me once that it hurts to use it so you avoid doing so-- you are playing too many 'what if' games in your head and now you've...fallen? I don't know what to call it. Look there is always the potential that someone else could spill the beans, it's not like Wanda doesn't talk in bed.”

“I wouldn't know that one Brock,” Ian smirked. “I wasn't on a first name basis with her.”

Brock sighed, “My point is--”

Ian sighed heavily, “Brock, I so wanna this situation to change, but I don't want to destroy the only safe  place have we have.”

“We all do. We all want things to get better.”

Ian nodded and took several deep breaths.  “Do we tell Butch?”

“Not until we know for certain.  Walter may know something as well, I mean after all we didn't know Ed was a double agent now did we?”

“We may never--”

“Exactly, we may never,” Brock sighed.  “Nashville?”

“Yeah, it was a one night thing an',” Ian rubbed his face.  “Don't tell Ro.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, I--” Ian shrugged. “It doesn't feel right I suppose.”

“You had better go find Zahirah and assure her your not going to do anything foolish, like leave.”

“I couldn't leave, not after what Vil did to her, yanking her around like an ass! She is upset he died, but—ahh, it's ugly Brock.  Really, very ugly,” Ian dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand.

“Lets try and figure out what is going on,” Brock said in a soft, calm manner, “and then move from there.”

“Gotcha,” Ian nodded.  “What about the load?”

“It's settled, we just need the paperwork, which should be here by midday, and then we can load.”

Ian nodded and glanced down the corridor in the direction of the lav.  Brock slapped his shoulder and went back into his quarters where he stood and laughed after he closed the door.  “Well Ill be dipped... Nashville.”

~~~~~

Grief has many forms and nuances and for Zahirah she was never certain what form her own would take.  She found herself feeling rather alone and isolated as she worked quietly in the galley. Brock and Rose were quietly working at the table but she still felt isolated.  She didn't feel like discussing the matter, nor did she feel that anything constructive would come of it.  It was just there.  Like a big old gorilla sitting in the room and stinking up the place, it was just there.

Zahirah hadn't cried about it, she just worked. For three days she had just worked.  She felt empty and worked.  She felt out of sorts and worked.  Nothing she could do would ever set it all right again, the empty space would never be filled and she would never have answers.

Under her feet she could feel the engine pumps and other mysterious machinery causing vibrations and sounds that she simply associated with being under way. She winced  slightly when she realized how little she really knew about the ship or space travel for that matter.  She was a simpleton in that respect and it made her feel inferior to the others.

She didn't know if she would cry.  Ever.  Maybe her crying had already been done and there was nothing left.  She didn't even feel anger.  She didn't even feel much of anything except that there was an emptiness in her heart as empty as the void beyond the shell of the ship.

She would just keep going because she didn't have much choice in that matter.

Someday maybe she would have her own answers, answers for questions that had never been asked or formed.  It was rather like someone said of her world:

"Why does someone from Yishuv always answer a question with a question?

I don't know. Why?

Why not?"

She glanced up and watched Rose talking with Brock at the table, pointing to something on her accounting ledger. It was like her mother lecturing her father on the bottom line of running the restaurant, a small reminder of home.  Rose was good with numbers and with understanding people's emotional maps.  She was not.  Oro was good with observation and knew her physical limits,  she was not.  Cowboy was skilled at reading people and manipulating situations to get what he wanted out of whatever it was that he needed to get something out of, she was not.  She just let things happen, she didn't force change because when she did try to force change it seemed to backfire in her face.  Win and Nova seemed to have a way with their hands, she did not.  It didn't seem right or fair.  She was not a leader nor did she feel she offered much support like Ian did for Brock.  In all this she felt out of place, as she had felt out of place on Yishuv or on Earth at the Jannula's.  She was never part of something, she always felt like she was an add-on, and accessory.

Yet—yet ironically,  she knew that the Lady was the one place she actually did feel at home.  That oddly this was the one place that gave her some sense of belonging. She couldn't find the right words, but she knew that leaving wasn't an option.  The ship had gotten under her skin and as odd as it felt, it was still right. Maybe that had something to do with Ian, as Ian was as much part of the ship as she was of him.

Quietly she put down the whisk she was stirring muffin batter with and walked aft to her quarters.  She opened her drawer and pulled out her bag of uni's.  They were heavy in her hand as she turned it over.

Quietly she walked back to the galley and set the bag down on the table in front of Rose and Brock.  Ian had walked into the galley from the bridge and was dunking a teabag in his mug.  He shot her an odd look and raised an eyebrow.

“What is this?” Rose said putting down her stylus and picking up the bag.

Brock glanced sharply at her his brow furrowed.

Zahirah shrugged and went back to pouring the muffin batter into the cups of the baking tin.  “I feel as if my drawing pay isn't helping this ship. I want to make an investment.”

“But Zahirah, this is everything you have, aren't you saving to go home?” Rose blurted.

“I have no home Rose, this is my home.  Home died, home was killed by the U.E.F.”

Ian poked the bag in Rose's hand for a moment and glanced at Brock without saying a word.

“Did he put you up to this?” Brock said stabbing a finger at Ian.

“No one put me up to anything, Brock.  You need capitol, I have capitol,” she shrugged again as if it was just a matter of fact.

“But you need--” Rose blurted again.  She knew how much was in the bag, roughly, because she was paymaster.

“No I don't need, what I want I cannot buy, what I need I have here, as odd as that sounds.”

Brock glanced alternately at Rose and Zahirah.  Ian made a face and finished dunking his teabag with a skeptical look at Brock.

“That would just about do it,” Rose muttered as she tapped her stylus and looked at the comptab in front of her.

“Do what?” Brock wondered.

“Recover.  Put us in the black so that anything we manage to earn on these next few runs would be profit.  The so-called monkey would be off our backs.”

Ian blurted, “You mean that hole I put us in when I was arrested--”

“And the missteps on Osterick,” Rose held up a finger.

“--Would be erased?” Ian finished.

“Finished,” Rose said simply.  She tossed her hands in the air in surrender. "We would finally be out of the hole we were in."

Brock looked at Zahirah for a moment as she finished scraping out the bowl.  “You really want to....?”

She looked at him, “Yes I really want to. If Ian can do it, than so can I. It's that simple.”

"I have learned one thing over the years,” Brock sighed letting a small smile curl  his lips and his eyes twinkle, “And that is never, ever, argue with a lady!”

 End: Episode Eleven

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 Posted  October   15, 2007

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