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2507: The Star Trader Chronicles

Episode 6: Bygones

The crew of the Aurora Lady had grown accustomed to their pilot, Ian, looking blank every once in a while, but this time it was different.  He got the blank look for a moment and then a frown formed on his brow. He threw down his fork and stood up rapidly, nearly knocked over his chair as he went to the bridge.

“What is it?” Brock asked with his fork paused midway to his mouth.

“There's a patrol vessel,” Ian said as he dashed onto the bridge.

Brock quietly put down his fork, then dabbed his lips in an ever so civilized manner.  He got up and made his way onto the bridge, shutting the door behind him.

As their weapon specialist, Oro looked troubled as she sipped her tea and Zahirah could sense from the flash of her eyes, that she was debating whether or not she was going to be called to man the guns.  Rose uncomfortably twirled her fork for a moment before she  continued eating.

“Hmm, this could get interesting,” Cowboy shrugged as he sipped his iced tea.

“Are we ready? Is there anything we can do?” Win Green wondered in a rather hushed voice. The Lady had never been approached by a U.E.F. patrol vessel before and Win was cautious, uncertain as to how things would work.

“Oh there is plenty we can do.  Ian knows the tricks I'm sure,” Oro said.

Ian knew the tricks because he was once one of those pilots and he knew U.E.F. procedure, but that didn’t make it any easier Zahirah thought as she gauged the reactions of the crew around her at the table. There wasn’t much they could do because the chess game was being played out on the bridge with Brock and Ian.  Zahirah got up, cleared the dishes and set to work with clean up.  She suddenly wasn’t all that hungry.  She saw the look in Ian’s eyes and it reminded her  of the look the officers used to get when there was a report of an outbreak of activity, the reports of a roadside I.E.D., or the word that a patrol had made an arrest.

What she faced on New Providence was an insidious taint of threat that allowed no one to relax.  They knew it was out there, but they didn’t know where or when it would crop up.  Most of the time she was manning the aide station and there always seemed to be the dribble of activity.  She didn’t want to go out on patrol, but if  they were short handed she was called in.  She never liked it.  She had spent eighteen month like that and she don’t think had  ever lost her sixth sense for danger. 

This made her antenna quiver and the look in Oro’s eyes said she was alerted too.  The others were uneasy, but for Oro and Zahirah it was as if a nightmare had just started and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

When Ian walked off the bridge, maybe two hours later, he looked terrible and went straight to the lav without saying a word. Brock walked out quietly and sat down at the table where Cowboy was playing cards with Nova and was teasing her.  Nova seemed  slightly embarrassed having by Cowboy give her attention.  She reminded Zahirah of her younger sister in that respect.

Cowboy wasn’t her type of man and it made Zahirah feel old.  He was boy-like with the way he talked and moved.  He struck her as the kind of man that wants a woman to take care of him, that he was a Peter Pan.  He would never grow up.  She wouldn’t go so far as to say he was manipulative, but almost.  She liked Cowboy well enough, but he wasn’t the kind she would enjoy being involved with.

Zahirah doubted if Nova knew this or realized this, but then again some women enjoyed men like Cowboy and there wasn’t anything wrong with that,  it was just not her. She knew she may have judged the mechanic wrong and that someday she might know more, but for now she had to work with the cards she had, or so Cowboy would say.

Brock said nothing as he accepted a cup of coffee she placed in front of him.  She noticed that he watched the card game, but remained silent. Zahirah brewed some tea and went into the head and found Ian right where she suspected:  On the floor with his back against the wall next to a sink.  His hair was damp as if he had taken water and splashed his face.  He was still pale. She sat next to him and handed him the tea. She heard Brock talking to Cowboy as she put the mug into Ian’s hand. He smiled slightly.  “How did you know?” he wondered.

“Too many years of combat,” she said softly thinking of the years she spent serving in the joint forces.  Yishuv, her home world, sent citizens to be members of the Israeli Peacekeeping Forces.  Israel was the mother land for her colony and all the inhabitants could trace their ancestry back to Old Earth and Old Israel.  Yishuv was obligated to supply personnel as payment for the aid that Israel had given over the years.  Yishuv was still part of Israel, and they were represented in the parliament, even though the journey back to the motherland took three weeks.

“The UEF patrol ship is on the same course as we are,” he said rubbing his brow.  “They came within range to use their short range scanners, took a look at us and hung there for a while then they backed off to the edge of the sensor range.  They didn’t identify themselves, they didn’t do anything. I would bet that because we are a rather common looking cargo vessel, they were just making certain we were not some other ship.”

“I don’t understand.”

Again he let a small smile creep onto his face.  “They know who we are, but they are not making a move.  Boarding would be difficult anyway, and they don’t usually board unless they have to.  By the way, pirates are the same way, they want to disable the ship so they can take the cargo but boarding usually doesn’t happen. They would rather take out the engines and the power plant to get at the cargo. Slavers will force a ship down to get the crew and cargo. The ship, if it's intact or can be salvaged becomes a prize of war.”

“Is something going on where we are headed?” Zahirah wondered.

“I don’t think so,” Ian shrugged.  He sighed  rubbed his face again and got up.  He didn’t say anything as he walked out.  That was Ian’s way. She wished Ian would talk to her, but then again she couldn’t understand half of his world. She glanced around and realized how much they took for granted.  Moving between planets? She’d never really given it much thought, but Ian could think on a whole different level then she could.  She got up and walked out of the lav herself. 

When she walked into the galley, Oro was cleaning her gun. It probably didn’t need cleaning but she was cleaning it none the less. No one else was in the galley.  Cowboy had vanished, as had Nova. Zahirah doubted it was together, since Nova liked to spend her time nursing the so-called cranky engines.

Ian had gone onto the bridge again leaving Zahirah standing there with Oro.

“He's being a snot again, isn’t he?” Oro wondered.  Zahirah glanced at her. “Ok maybe snot wasn’t the right word,” she admitted looking at the receiver of her gun.

“That patrol has him spooked,” Zahirah pointed out.

“ I used to be a hunter.” Oro sighed and put down the gun on the table.  “That was my duty, like it or not." She was half muttering to herself and half to the puzzled Zahirah. "Protecting him isn’t easy. To think it was my duty to hunt people like him, but that was the job.” Zahirah could see from the look in her eye that something was troubling her as well.

“Like it or not I had to render aid to people that wanted to kill us,” Zahirah said thinking about New Providence, a far off world ripped apart by a civil war.  It was the planet she had been sent to and spent eighteen months manning a battalion aid station and, sometimes, acting as a sharpshooter.

Oro sighed, “I guess that’s the conundrum we all face. That chip makes it a complex matter and one day…"

Zahirah could tell that Oro missed the discipline of military life, much as Zahirah had when she fist went home.  There was an uncomfortable lack of things to keep herself occupied.  It would seem that when one was on deployment, the sergeants would invent ways to keep their soldiers busy.  There were drills that they did just to keep the minds occupied.  They also invented chores, like cleaning a gun, just to keep those fingers out of trouble.   When she left the Peacekeepers,  Zahirah found herself looking for chores just to relieved the tedium.  She would cook or clean just to be doing something until Ben got off work.  She took charge watching her younger siblings and  she always felt as if she wasn’t an adult and she wasn’t a child, yet her age said otherwise, her body said otherwise as well, but she was still under her parents roof and they still bossed her around. Right now, Oro seemed to be inventing chores, searching for a way to dispel the antsy itch.

Being antsy was part of it, and something one learned to live with.  None the less Zahirah felt awkward.  Ian, Brock and Rose were all older then her, while Green, Nevels, Fierro and Cowboy were all younger. Her outlook was more mature she realized, and maybe that was why she felt more comfortable with Ian or Rose. Or, maybe, she was also grasping at straws, trying to find answers for a problem that didn’t exist.

~~~~~

Del Vista was one of those worlds where not much could be said about, except that the name was an irony.  There was no view, the land was flat and unremarkable.  It didn’t have the wide open beauty of Craitor. It didn’t have stunning seashores. But,  on the plus side, it could be said that at least it didn’t look like New Budapest, nor was it some lonesome uninhabited rock out in the middle of nowhere.  It was just there.  And it was just the rainy season.

Ian landed the Lady  and shook his head.  He had come into a monsoon which would delay the unloading of their cargo.  He had fought the winds and poor visibility all the way in and, tempting though it was, he did not bring the ship in using the AI.  He used his raw skills so that no one could suspect that the Aurora Lady was an AI ship.  It would have been easy for him to use the AI, but he didn’t want to tip his hand either, not with a patrol ship around, even if the patrol had taken a different approach and headed towards the U.E.F. base.  It wasn’t worth the risk.

Del Vista was much like Freeport, but much further out.  The port was known to be rather rough and tumble, more like a gold rush town, reminiscent of what was thought of as the Old West.  It still had that temporary slapped together feel, even though space ships came into it.  The populace prided itself on being independent and self sufficient.  They were hard and the easy life of Earth was light years from their thoughts.  Del Vista was a hub, a place where cargo changed ships bound for different sectors and most of the industry was built on that premise.  It all came to a screeching halt when the fall and spring rains hit, and the conflux of cold air and warm air stirred up the storms creating the heavy conditions. It was just part of Del Vista’s charms.  The storms, while heavy, usually didn’t last very long, but they could come in strings and that could last a while. Then hardly anything moved, but life went on.  Crews would scurry around hitting the bars and saloons.  There was a thriving red light district that fit with the rough and tumble nature of the place.  All kinds of entertainments could be found that catered to the pent up space crews, crews that would come in looking for any diversion from the existence they had when they lifted.

Ian knew the place well, as did Brock, but for the rest of the crew Del Vista was new and different,  a variation of Freeport. There was a small U.E.F. garrison on the planet, but in the past it seemed to be manned by indifferent grunts and even more indifferent officers.  There was trouble, but it was nothing like the hot spot of New Providence.  The Del Vista Garrison was just there, and didn’t accomplish much.  It was one of those postings that was the end of the road, anyone posted here was just marking time.  It was where the very incompetent were sent to just get them out of the way.  It was not a plum posting by any stretch of the imagination.  The grunts here made token showings and that was about it.  The Firsts really didn’t have much influence there either, it was too far away for them to matter.  This was a world where the gambler, the Indie, the small criminal, and organized crime all had their say and were seldom stopped.  It was the kind of place Brock loved and dreaded all in the same breath.  It was the kind of world Ian could almost relax on.  Very few bothered him there.  It was better then Freeport or Khinan-le in that respect.

~~~~~

The Maylock distribution center was a huge complex of ship docks and handling facilities.  Ian studied the maze for a moment and silently cursed the rain.  Maylock wasn’t any better or any worse then the other centers on Del Vista.  Like the planet itself, it was just there.  The dockhands just did their jobs and there were no unions to mess with either. The downside was that the rain had shut down flight operations not long after Ian fought his way in.  The cargo was not going anywhere until it let up.

Brock sighed and looked at the rain, “I knew there was a chance that we may have mistimed it.”

“Then the shipper knows that this was a possibility as well?” Ian mused.

“Yes, and it doesn’t matter.  This isn’t a time critical shipment, at  least.  We brought it in.  We will get our pay.”

“’nd we see if there’s anything we can bring out,” Ian shrugged. “I still feel like we get the pickin’s Brock.”

“We do,” Brock agreed.  “But do you want your freedom or do you want to haul time critical for the Firsts? You knew this wasn’t going to be a high paying job when you walked up.”

Ian sighed, “I knew.  This isn’t a glamorous ship. Glamorous would be something like the passenger liner, AnnaLissa, or maybe the Norse Wind.”

Brock smiled thinking of Ilari Jannula’s recent description of his ship and how euphemistically the Lady was “better” then the Wind.

“Cap’n?” Nova’s voice asked from the squawk box.

“Yes Nova?” Brock replied.

“The port side waste tank is leaking Ill need to fix that before we leave."

“I'll give her a hand,” Ian said softly.

“Right, go ahead and do what you have to, we will be on dock support soon so the tanks won’t be in use.”

“Got it Cap’n,” Nova replied and closed the circuit.

Brock glanced at Ian and winced. “Rough landing?”

Ian shook his head, “I'll bet that pump was marginal anyway. It's old Brock. Maybe original to the ship, for all we know.”

“You didn’t get an error code?”

“No, not for that. I'll compile a list of things to look at later.”

“What kinds of things are going?” Brock wondered with a note of worry in his voice.

“Just the little routine things, wear an’ tear.  There’s not much we can do about it but stay on it.”

“I want you to get some down time this go round. Maybe do something about that piss poor love life you don’t have.”

“Right Brock, when you do.”

“Hey!” Brock snorted in a mock grouchy way.

Ian chuckled as Brock walked off the bridge.  Brock was right, Ian had to admit.  Ian did need to step away from the ship for a while and Del Vista was a known planet.  He should be safe, even though safe was a relative term.

~~~~~

 By the time Ian finished helping Nova with the stubborn pump he was pretty worn out and actually tired of looking at the ship.  Brock had returned from his trip to the main offices and shooed Ian out, assuring him that he, Win and Rose could handle an idle ship.  Oro and Cowboy had tromped off into the rain, as had Zahirah, as soon as the dishes were done.  The first bar he walked by he knew and didn’t care for, same with the second and third.  They had loud music, were boisterous and bustled with activity.  Apparently there were a number of stuck ships and the crews were feeling the affects of the rain combined with a bit of Space Fever.

The fourth place he walked passed was darker and quieter, almost a hole in the wall that boasted rooms for rent as well as baths, hot food and cold beer.  "Fanny Ann’s" was the name of the establishment.  Ian pulled the door open and walked into the narrow bar, pulling off his sopping jacket as he did so.  He noticed his boots squished and his socks were wet. He looked at them with distain for a moment before he finished hanging the jacket and walked over to the bar to order a beer.

Looking down the long dark wooden bar, Ian spotted two figures seated at the far back table.  One had a golden mop of curly blond hair.  It took Ian a moment but then he realized that  Zahirah was also at the table, her dark head masked by shadow.  They seemed to be deep in conversation. The bright mop was that of Ilari Jannula. The beer arrived and Ian was about to take a sip when he felt someone at his elbow.  He looked up and into the green eyes of Viljo Jannula.

“Imagine that! Our paths crossing once again,” Vil chuckled.

“It’s a small universe Vil,” Ian agreed.

“A pint of Best Bitters,” Vil said to the keep. “It’s a long way from home.”

“Aye,” Ian agreed.

“My brother is still talking to Zahirah?”

“I just walked in myself,” Ian shrugged. “I don’t know how long they have been at it.”

“Well, I'm not surprised,” Vil lifted his pint.

“She was rather melancholy on the trip out here,” Ian pointed out. “I mean, thinkin’ a lot. Preoccupied about somethin’”

“How is she adjusting to Indie life?” Vil wondered. “I never imagined her leaving like she did.”

“Well enough, better then most greenhorns,” Ian shrugged.

“You know, I don’t know why we didn’t think of taking her on the Wind, I mean I—"

“Vil, it wasn’t right an’ you know it. Its one thing to have a crew, an’ another to have a mistress,” Ian pointed out.

Vil sighed and looked towards the back of the bar again, “Maybe that was it.”

“Maybe? Its poison, Vil. Dere are some things that don’t mix, an’ I know there are ships that it works on. There are couples that run ships together.  I just find that it takes a certain mind set and a one-of-a-kind kinda captain to pull it off.  It’s the mixing of business and pleasure that has to be handled with tact and finesse.  Handled poorly and it creates tension that tears a crew to shreds.  Zahirah can be one of a kind."

“No I think one of a kind is that hired gun you have,  that’s one of a kind.”

Ian laughed softly, “Just donna tell her that.”

Vil chuckled, “It’s a strange life we live Ian.”

“Oh that’s for certain,” Ian laughed some more and then sighed gently. “So it is true, Zahirah and Ilari—“

Vil interrupted with a snort, “That. That is a can of worms.”

“Oh?” Ian asked slowly.

“Lets just say that, in all fairness, there is a matter of honor involved and,“ Vil sighed and put his pint glass down.

“An’?” Ian wondered.

Vil simply shook his head and glanced at Ian with a pained expression. “My father is not an honorable man, and I’ll leave it at that. There was some bad blood between my father Aleksi and Zahirah, stemming from some things that took place almost two years ago.  It just seems as if….”

“Oh, mother of pearl,” Ian swore softly.

“Yeah. There are people in this universe who need to be taken down a notch.  I hate it, Lari hates it, but there isn’t much we can do.  Zahirah is resilient if anything.” Vil picked up his pint and drained it. “She has had a lot of crap thrown at her in the last two years, more crap then she should have, far more then she deserves.” Ian glanced to the back of the bar again and felt troubled. Vil looked out the front window and made a rude noise in his nose. “I don’t want to go back out in that slop, but we have to lift in an hour.  I need to go start warming things up.”

“I thought ops were on hold."

“We got clearance fifteen minutes ago. There’s a break in the storm and we have a tight window. I just wanted a pint before we left.”

Ian shook his head, “So dat’s it then?”

Vil sighed, “That’s it.” Vil waved his hand and got Ilari’s attention.  He pointed to his wrist, then  pointed with both hands at the ceiling.

Ian understood the unspoken words.  "Time to go, time to lift."

“Take care, Ian,” Vil said, slapping the pilot on his shoulder before he walked out.

“I'll have another,” Ian said to the barkeep.

~~~~~

 Ian put his arm around Zahirah’s shoulder and sighed.  The rain had let up, it was now a drizzle that soaked everything.

“It just doesn’t seem fair,” Zahirah said.

“Why?” Ian wondered.

“Because,” she said slowly “Because I stumbled across something an--“

Ian stopped walking. “You love him," he said in a flat tone.

Zahirah sighed, "--I don’t know if I love him or love the idea of him.”

“I canna help you with that lass.  Unknown territory for me. I’ve never been involved with anyone.”

“Did you ever wonder why I was so willing to sign onto the Lady?”

“Oh I wonder, because each one of us has a tale."

“I left Yishuv to find peace Ian.  If I had stayed I would have been in a marriage, raising children like my mother, and her mother before her. Yishuv is a world that is trying to transform itself.  Early in colonization there was a mutation in the female gene, and it led to many being sterile, unable to conceive or bear children.  For those of us lucky enough to avoid the mutation we were honored.  My mother had six children, her sister eight.  On my father’s side, my cousins number sixteen, I think. Women like me are obligated to bear children.  Just as we had a duty to serve in our military, we are also duty bound to have children for the government, hence the arranged marriage.  Ben was chosen for me to assure there would be many children, that we would be fruitful. The point is that I wasn’t happy.  I didn’t like the fact that someone was chosen for me by a computer based on my genes. I didn’t like that a life had been mapped out for me by someone who didn’t know me.  Our prenuptial time didn’t go well.  I would see him after he got off work at the accounting firm and I didn’t enjoy it.  I went to Earth to find peace.  I was going to go back and try again but fate changed matters. I didn’t have enough money and the only job I could get was in that café in Nashville.  Because of my tag, it was all dictated because of my tag. I have an outstanding obligation to my home world to have children and help to populate our planet and make it green and lush.” Zahirah fell silent thinking about outstanding debts and the burden she felt resting on her shoulders at the moment.  It wasn’t pleasant.

“Take it out,” Ian shrugged.

“I don’t know if I can,” she shrugged. “I'm torn. I don’t know if I could carry it out.  I couldn’t when Oro removed hers. There's something about loosing ones ties to home that seem uncomfortable. Almost like loosing part of one's self.”

“The time will come and you will know. You made a good argument for Oro, an’ I was surprised you didn’t remover yours when Oro did.   I think you would have made a good lawyer.”

“Not with my tag. I wasn’t university material. They needed uteruses more then they needed lawyers.”

“An’ cooks?”

“I learned it at my father’s restaurant. I was born in a kitchen. Literally.”

“So what is the problem with Ilari?” Ian wondered.

“The problem with Ilari is that he is on his ship, and I am on mine,” she shrugged and looked out across the tarmac at the ships resting there in the odd light of the port.  The drizzle made everything soft, and the lights looked yellow, casting the ships in a golden glow.

Ian sighed as they came to the gate nearest the Lady. “Did you break up, or whatever it is they call it?”

Zahirah nodded, lying easily.  There was no need to tell Ian the messy details of what she and Ilari had actually discussed.  She would let him assume he understood when in fact, that was actually very far from the truth. “We decided it was nothing more then a few laughs and that was all.”

”Zee I'm sorry.”

She sighed gently. “It's fate, Ian. Nothing more.”

“Maybe,” Ian agreed as they walked to the port side gangplank. “Look Zee you’ve always told me if I want to talk to see you. Well, if you need to talk, see me. I know this isn’t something you want to discuss with Win, and certainly not Brock.”

“Rose might understand.”

“Rose is Rose,” Ian agreed.

“Thank you Ian.  You…helped.”

Ian nodded and looked up when he heard the sounds of engines lifting.  “It’s the Wind,” he said, squinting against the drizzle.

Zahirah sighed and started up the gangplank. She didn’t want to see the ship leaving.

~~~~~

“There's a rumor afloat,” Oro said as she walked in the galley and set down her rifle.

“Rumors?” Ian frowned and scooped up his scrambled eggs. “When isn’t there a rumor?”

Oro shrugged and took her seat, helping herself to a piece of toast, “Jannula was arrested last night.”

“Vil or Lari?” Ian wondered, wrinkling his nose.  In the galley proper he heard Zahirah drop something.

“Umm, the older one,” Oro said after a moments thought.

“Vil?” Zahirah wondered as she set something down on the counter. “On what charge?”

“Wait,  Oro! I saw their ship leave last night. I was in the bar with Vil, an’ Zee was with Lari…how…?”

“You tell me.  All I've heard is Vil Jannula is being held and questioned.” Oro looked at Zahirah as the cook walked around the counter wiping her hands on a towel. Oro looked back at Ian and said, “That patrol may have been checking us to see if we were the Wind. The reason we were left alone was because we were not the Wind.  See? They were looking for something specific.”

Zahirah put the towel down and frowned at Oro, then with a snort picked it right back up and went back to work at the cook top making more eggs.

“Blast,” Ian said softly. "I suspected as much."

“You didn’t hear anything did you?” Oro asked with a pointed glance. Zahirah put a plate of eggs in front of her.  "On channels?"

“No, its been quiet,” Ian said pointing at his temple. “In fact Oro, too quiet.”

“What do you mean?” Oro looked up from her plate.

“Just dat, its like the Thing isn’t there.” Ian shrugged and got up, pushing his chair back with the backs of his knees. “No wonder I slept like a log! Bitchin’ Betty wasn’t whispering in my ear all night.” Ian handed Zahirah his plate and disappeared onto the bridge.

Zahirah looked at Oro, “And you know nothing more?”

“No,” Oro shrugged. “Brock did relay to me that the storms should be over and to expect that we unload about three, but that’s all he said.”

~~~~~

Cowboy sighed and looked at Ian. “The rumor I heard was they arrested him because he’s a chip.”

Ian frowned and shook the cup with the dice in it, “Dat doesn’t make sense, but then again the mere fact that he was arrested, or the rumor that he was arrested, doesn’t make any sense either.”

Cowboy studied the backgammon board between them on the galley table and sighed, “Makes about as much sense as the women sometimes.”

“What? An’ their fixation on making the ship smell better?” Ian smirked.

“What is with that?” Cowboy chuckled. “Its Green and her flowers.”

“Its Rose an’ the vanilla,” Ian shrugged.

“Now Nova doesn’t seem to think that way,” Cowboy pointed out, crossing his arms and studying the game board.

“The scent of hydraulic fluid is a turn on for her,” Ian smirked.

“Oh so that’s what it is! I've been trying to nail that one down,” Cowboy chuckled. “Ah shoot, you threw boxcars!”

Ian grinned, “Rose warned you that I win at acy-ducy.”

“And Brock has a heck of a time beating her at anything,” Cowboy shook his head. “Go on. Roll again, Irish.”

“Why would Vil be arrested for being a chip?” Ian wondered as he tossed the dice again.

“Doesn’t look good for you,” Cowboy observed.

“This planet isn’t a problem, unless they were tipped off.” Ian shrugged.  “In the past no one has looked twice, nor were they arrested for infractions.”

“Who knows about you….friend?” Cowboy wondered shaking the dice.

“No one outside this crew, I never ran an A.I. ship around here,” Ian muttered, thinking aloud.

“You know there’s another possibility.” Cowboy leaned forward as he counted out his move.

“What's that?” Ian wondered.

“The TY 800’s.”

Ian frowned, “How so?”

“Well, we got them from Jannula, but where were they supposed to go? I think that person might be pissed that his shipment got waylaid.  I'm just thinking that the Jannula’s may have had some enemies along the road.”

Ian tapped his cup on the table, “I canna say, Cowboy.”

“Can Zee?” Cowboy wondered.

“Why? because she…?” Ian frowned.

“Because she knows them,” Cowboy pointed out.

“She doesn’t,” Ian shook his head.

“I didn’t fall off a turnip truck, Ian. She has probably slept with one, or both, of them.”

Ian shook his head, “She doesn’t know, I mean she doesn’t know their business. Blast now you’ve rolled those boxcars.”

“You still have me beat, all you need to roll is better then a four and you’ve pulled everything off.”

Ian rolled his dice and sighed, “Three.”

Cowboy chuckled softly amused at Ian’s turn of luck.

“You know you can wager on this,” Ian said with a wiggle of his finger at the board.

“Poker works well.  It’s the eyes Ian.”

“Blackjack?” Ian frowned. “Craps?”

“Casino games and not many places have them, but you can always find a poker game. Same with roulette,” Cowboy shrugged. “It’s a simple matter of investment.  Not many planets have the infrastructure to support the large casinos, but poker is as portable as a deck of cards, so is blackjack, but that isn’t my game.”

Ian shook his head, “I've never known a professional player.”

“I'm not professional. I'm strictly amateur,” Cowboy sighed.

“All the better to fool people,” Ian said studying Cowboy for a moment.

Cowboy nodded and smiled as Ian packed up the backgammon board.

~~~~~

Ian was standing at the end of the cargo ramp and glanced over his shoulder to look at the empty bay for a moment before he looked out at the rain.  It had started again and was dripping off the  edge of the hull. He watched the silver drips for a moment  before he sighed.  The air was cool and damp, a cool that got under the skin and into the bones.  Being outside chilled him.

The Lady was not a pretty ship, and sitting in the rain only made her seem dingier and older then she really was.  Fang had pushed her hard over the years and while the wily Asian  had upgraded many of the components, at heart she was still an out of date Chinook. Oro stood near him and gave a snort of disgust as the rain picked up.  “This stinks.”

“It is what it is, or so Brock says,” Ian muse, shivering against the chill.  He turned and went inside in search of a mug of tea.  Zahirah was in the galley cutting an onion, her pantry well stocked now. “So what is for supper?” Ian wondered looking over the accumulation on the counter.

“Chili with cornbread,” Zee replied.

Ian frowned for a moment as he filled his mug with hot water and dunked the teabag in.

“What's bothering you?” Zahirah wondered.

“The rain, nothing more,” Ian shrugged “Its started again.  Maybe that chili will help banish the cold.  What I wish we had was a warm fire.”

Zahirah smiled softly for a moment and nodded, “And a hot bath.”

“If I were a rich man, I would have larger tanks and a real tub.”

“Larger quarters with larger beds,” Zahirah smiled.

“Ah, and a room with comfy chairs where you could be alone and talk without the whole ship hearing what you have to say.”

“Individual bathrooms,” Zahirah pointed with her knife.

“Room to spread your arms,” Ian laughed.

“What about room to throw darts?” Nova asked suddenly.

“Darts?” Ian looked at the mechanic who had just walked in.  Her hair was damp but she had a smile on her face.

“Yeah I found a dart board, and I figure we can set up a hook where it would hang on the aft airlock hatch and we can play darts,” Nova said holding out the box with the board inside.

“Clever idea,” Ian said as he pointed his finger for emphasis.

“Umm, onions.  What is for dinner?” Nova asked after taking a deep breath.

“Chili and cornbread,” Ian said.

“Good, I like cornbread,” Nova smiled and set the board against the wall before she vanished back to her quarters.

“Ian?” Oro said suddenly, just as suddenly as Nova had. Something in the tone of her voice made Zahirah stop her chopping. Ian set down his mug and looked at Oro.

“Is Brock here?” she wondered.

“He's at the main office, why?”

“Why?  Because the dockworkers that were loading the ship next to us just came over looking for a doctor. They didn’t want to call the squad out.”

“Green is out,” Zahirah said, putting her knife down and looking concerned.

“Why do they need a doctor?” Ian wondered walking over to her and noticing that her eyes were troubled.

“They found someone,” Oro sounded uneasy.

“Found?!” Ian blurted. "What? A body?"

Oro turned slowly towards Ian. “Yeah a body. It was dumped on the skid like rubbish.”

“I'll get a kit,” Zahirah said moving towards the infirmary.

Ian made a face and followed Oro when she walked off.  Zahirah met them in the intersection of the corridors and fell into step behind Oro.

“Ian,” Oro stopped and looked at the pilot.  “Ian, it's Vil Jannula and he was beaten pretty bad.”

~~~~~

“Why didn’t they want to call the medical aid squad?” Ian wondered as he tried to look into the infirmary where they had brought Jannula in with Cowboy’s help.  Zahirah was working and looking confused. Ian’s short hair was still wet.

“I don’t know.  They seem like a bunch of nervous Nelly’s. You know, skittery.  Maybe they didn’t want to involve the law. Maybe they have had too many run ins with the U.E.F. garrison,” Oro shrugged. “Strange things happen, Ian.”

“I agree but,” Ian glanced in the door again. “He looks terrible.”

Oro sighed, “I'm stepping things up. I don’t care what Brock says.”

“Right. No, I think that’s prudent.  Just be discreet about it. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas and provoking matters and starting some gun fight or something.”

“Does Green have a TIC on her?” Oro wondered, stopping mid-stride and looking at Ian.

“Not as far as I know, Brock and Rose had one, you another.  Nova was going to fix the others but hasn't gotten the parts yet…as far as I know. The one I had the other day has an intermittent short and flakes out. Then again maybe it just got wet.  Brock should be back soon.  I mean--”

Zahirah walked out into the corridor and sighed gently.   “I need Green. I mean, I can control the bleeding and that’s about it.”

“Well, do what you can and I'll contact Brock.  Maybe he knows where she is.”

“Pairs, we should only leave in pairs,” Oro pointed out, thinking out loud.

“A little late now,” Ian sighed. He glanced at Zahirah as she quietly turned and went back into the small infirmary room.  As a 12 x 12 foot cube there wasn’t much to the room other then the exam table, counter top with a small sink and an array of cabinets.

Oro moved away and Ian stepped inside.  He looked at Vil’s battered features for a moment before he asked, “Seriously, how bad?”

Zahirah sighed and shrugged, “He was beaten.  The bruises are all over. Cracked arm…”

“You OK?”

Zahirah nodded, “This isn’t the first time I have had to attend to a friend.”

“New Prov?”

“Roadside I.E.D.’s, snipers…you name it,” she said softly, not adding anything about how much worse it was.

“That place was a bleepin’ hell hole,” Ian sighed and studied the livid bruise on Vil’s cheekbone and jaw. “I hated it.  I hated dropping troops in there.”

Zahirah was dabbing at the laceration in the eyebrow with a cotton swab on a stick.  “It wasn’t a good situation,” she agreed.

“In fourteen years it hasn't gotten better.” Ian sighed. “You haven’t run a scan have you?”

“Why?”

“Because Cowboy floated another rumor.”

“What is it?” she wondered.

“Chip," Ian said flatly.

Zahirah stopped dabbing for a moment and looked at him.  “They took out some teeth, I think he had a comm. tooth.”

“Did you know?”

“No,” she admitted.

“What if he is what they would do to me?” Ian shivered looking away.  “I mean, what if dat’s the same treatment---“

“Arrest and torture?” Zahirah looked at him.

Ian sighed and leaned on the table trying to fight the churning of his stomach.  The antiseptic compound she was using smelled to high heaven and he knew the smell and hated it.

“Ian, as close as I was to them, I don’t know about that.  I don’t know about chips or teeth, or even the past.”

“Fair enough,” Ian sighed.  “Did you… scan?”

“My eyes tell me more,” she said softly. “I didn’t use the scanner.”

Ian straightened up and walked out.  He made it as far as the lav next door when he threw up.

~~~~~

 Zahirah let the hot water beat on her.  They were still on dock support so using water wasn’t an issue.  She had it as hot as she could stand trying to melt away the feelings she had, dissolve the conflict in her mind.

After Ian left she had pulled out the scanner that Green kept in a drawer and looked at it for a long time before replacing it.  She studied Vil’s battered features and his slack unconscious form.  His long blond hair was loose and she brushed an errant lock off his forehead.  Green had returned and had taken over. Zahirah found she wasn’t helping so she left the Doctor to her work

“Why did Lari leave?” she whispered.  “Why did they arrest you?” What was true, and what wasn’t true she wondered. Was he arrested or had this been a matter taken care of by other factions? She shivered and thought of the lingering threats Aleksi had made against her.  What if that was the root of what happened?  Could it be?

She shut off the water and grabbed her towel.  The shower wasn’t making her feel any better.

~~~~~

Ian set his tea down on Brock’s desk and studied the shadow on Brock’s  brow.  Rose quietly crossed her arm. Ian didn’t need sensors to tell him that the mood in the room was tense, nor was Brock amused by the current situation.  They were scheduled to lift shortly and were expecting an inspector to make the final pre-departure inspection of the manifest.  It was also a moment they had to discuss the current situation.

“Why?” Rose asked finally after a stretch of uncomfortable silence.

“Why?” Ian blinked.

“I know about the tradition of the ‘Code of the Sea’ but—“ Rose shook her head.

“Ian, “Brock sighed,  “bringing Vil aboard when we are lifting, I—"

“I didn’t know at the time we were lifting so soon," Ian interrupted sharply. "All I saw was someone who needed help.” Ian glanced at Rose, “The Code still stands, but we call it the 'Code of the Stars' now. Its that unwritten code that says if a ship, or person, is in trouble, if you can render assistance, you do it.   Brock, you left me in charge so I made a decision.  I know it’s a risk, an’ I know having someone on board creates all sorts of friction.  Look at  Mathias London, we worked it out.  I know it’s a drain on our resources but Brock I couldn’t just leave him on this shit hole world where he was beaten for who knows what reason.  His ship is gone, he was left here!”

“His ship left?” Rose blurted.

“I saw her lift last night.  I was in a bar with Vil. Lari was talking with Zee.” Ian sighed in frustration. “I just feel that you should not just leave someone, a fellow Indie, like that.  You—“

Rose sighed, “I can't see just leaving someone either, it just right.” Brock looked a bit uncomfortable when she gave him a hard look.  “Brock, it’s the right thing.  Ian is right on this one.  What would your father have done? I'm sure your father would have done the same thing.  Brock it’s the right thing to do, we have a doctor and to keep her skills limited to the crew would have been selfish.  Let her do some good, Vil looked out for us when we were just trying to get our feet under us.”

“Don’t you think I realize that?” Brock wondered, feeling a trifle exasperated. “Its just given his history… doesn’t that make him on the same level as some of the pirate crews out here?  Rose this isn’t easy. I mean it could be said that he is one of them, and I want very much to avoid that kind of trouble.”

“There's another aspect of all this,” Ian pointed out.

“What is that?” Brock glanced at Ian.

“Zahirah,” Ian shrugged.

Rose frowned for a moment.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean these are her friends, she is trying to do the right thing, help where she can, with what skills she has. She admitted something last night that made something a little clearer to me.”

Rose studied Ian for a moment, “What do you mean?”

Ian was about to answer when the familiar voice of Nova interrupted. “Cap’n? The port inspector is here.”

Brock sighed, “We will discuss this further.” Rose watched Brock leave and when the door shut, she shifted slightly as Ian quietly picked up his tea.

“I get the feeling Zahirah owes the Jannula’s a lot,” Ian said finally. "I mean, a lot."

“You mean the old ties, because they are her friends.”

Ian nodded, “I think there’s a lot she hasn't told us. I think this goes deeper then friendship. I donna see them as pirates, exactly.”

“Well, I just feel that its right, regardless of Zahirah.”

“But making Brock see that…He's a good man, Rose, even if he is something of a git sometimes. This bit with the piracy, and all…who around here is clean anymore?”

Rose smiled slightly, “He has always had a hard time listening to his heart.  His head gets in the way sometimes.”

“So this is nothing new?” Ian smiled slightly.

“Far from it,” Rose sighed. “And I don’t think we have heard the last of it either.  I don’t like going against him, but sometimes there’s a time to do the right thing.”

“Like not drugging the old man,” Ian pointed out.

“Exactly,” Rose sighed.

~~~~

Three days later they were one course and bound for Craitor with a load of pump parts.  It was a nothing load, what Ian called a milk run because it was very routine. Ian set the chessboard between the copilots seat and his own and Brock started setting the pieces. It was an opportunity for a quiet game and to discuss matters without the rest of the crew present.

“Zahirah is unhappy,” Ian observed as he sipped his tea and found a place to set it down where, if it were knocked over, it wouldn’t wreck the whole bridge and he could still reach it and reach the board at the same time.

Brock glanced up and nodded.  “She is trying to be strong and act like this isn’t bothering her.”

“Hell, Brock, it's botherin’ me!”

“I know Ian, its bothering all of us.” Brock sighed, “There are simply too many rumors floating around.  I am glad to be out of that poison pit.  You know what Casey Carlson had the nerve to say to me?”

“No, what?”

“Vil was wanted in the disappearance of someone he was involved with.  Supposedly she was pregnant and had an abortion." Brock paused for effect and watched Ian's eyes grow rather large. "It gets better.  Supposedly she took something from Aleksi Jannula and he wants it back.”

Ian snorted, “'nd people will believe anything if it's said with conviction.”

“Uh-huh,” Brock grunted.

“I don’t believe Casey, even though I’ve worked with her for years,” Ian said moving his pawn. His old captain was a little red head with a very long pony tail and a very short temper.  Casey had worked for Brockman Freight until last year when she got a position with Hewes and her own ship the Comstock Load.  She had also been one that Overlinger had pushed out in his ruthless takeover of Brockman Freight, Brock's father's company.

“What do you think happened?”

“I'm not sure,” Ian shrugged watching Brock make his move. “I mean we can theorize this to death and still come up with no answers. The one thing I can say with certainty is that Zahirah cares about the brothers, and the only two who can say anything for certain are Zee and Vil. Vil knows why he was beaten like he was, and we can only speculate.  Each one of us has a story, a motivation, and there’s no getting around that.  Each one of us signed onto this ship for his, or her, reason. Each one of us is Indie for our own reasons.  We don’t know much about Jannula, we don’t know much about Zee. Given my history? It would be hypocritical of me to examine and ask questions because we all have skeletons in our closets that we don’t want to see the light of day.”

“Is he a chip?” Brock wondered.

“I canna say,” Ian shook his head.  “What does it matter if he is?”

“Might explain the U.E.F.’s actions,” Brock shrugged. “Oro has her own theory, she thinks that is that the local commander  is trying to make a name for himself and was using Vil as an example.”

“Now that makes more sense then his being a chip.  If he is? Then it's incidental to the issue,” Ian said as he moved his knight.

“Ian, you don’t have your mind in this game do you?” Brock sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you left yourself open.  You’re in check.”

“How do you know I'm not trying to sucker you?” Ian glanced at Brock. Ian made his move and sighed, “Check.”

Brock sat back and laughed, “Sucker me?”

“You left yourself bloody open for dat,” Ian waved his hand. Ian made his move and sipped his tea.

“Mate, sorry.”

“You're not sorry! You’ve been waitin’ to beat me,” Ian scoffed.

“I think we are about fifty-fifty, Ian.”

“Probably,” Ian shrugged and sighed. “I was never a super chess player.”

Brock started to put the pieces away and glanced at Ian, “What about this pick up that Vil mentioned?”

“Do you trust him?” Ian wondered and shook his head, “I canna say Brock.”

“I don’t think he should be given run of the ship.”

“Like Mathias, even though Mathias turned out to be alright.”

“I just feel like the less he knows, the better.“

“The less chance there is that he can sink us.  We could keep Oro on him, though I don’t think he is going anywhere in a hurry. Hell he’s barely made it from the infirmary to the guest quarters.”

“There’s Zahirah,” Brock shrugged.

“Cook? Sharpshooter?... Guard? She’s got many a talent.”

“My thinking,” Brock chuckled.  “Another game?”

“Go ahead Captain, it's your call.  Set them up,” Ian smiled slightly,  “if you dare.”

“Your not cheating by using your chip!”

“Me? Never,” Ian laughed.

~~~~~

“Grief does funny things to people, at least it did to my father,” Vil said as he nibbled experimentally on the piece of toast Zahirah appeared with early the next morning.  She was still feeling a little unsettled because she happened to witness Ian, Rose and Brock having a discussion about having Vil aboard.  It made her feel uncomfortable, but then she also knew Brock was protective of his ship and crew and he was caught in a no-win situation.  He voiced his displeasure in the form of some grumbles that Rose met with crossed arms and a stern look.  Rose was the voice of reason, the embodiment of conscious sometimes, while Brock was the logical one.  Vil has not heard the discussion as far as she could tell.

Zahirah looked up from the R.A.B. she had borrowed from Rose. It held about twenty books but it wasn’t the same as having an actual volume in one’s hand. She wasn’t a fast reader either which bothered her. “What do you mean?”

Vil shrugged slightly, “If I can get this down, I want to join your table. I feel like a moron and a prisoner trapped in here like this with only a lav for companionship.”

“Feeling better?” she wondered.

“No,” Vil sighed.  “But if I don’t move I'll never heal. Your doctor is something of a worry wart.”

“She hasn't had an actual patient since we lifted from Nashville, unless you count Ian getting his head smashed by a rock or his crushed finger. He also got a burn on his hand…Brock also had an injury…There was the old man as well," Zahirah thought for a moment.

Vil chuckled softly, “Smashed fingers and burns are part of life. I can't tell you how many times it's happened to me.”

Zahirah sighed gently. “But it also doesn’t keep her very busy. I mean there are things that happen but for the most part things do not happen.”

Vil looked at her for a moment, “How are you?”

“Why?”

“Because Ian said you were down the last leg you did. You’re down now.  I've never seen you curl up with a book before….reader before. You know, those R.A.B's. I don’t know, I find using an acronym rather clumsy.”

“How well do you know me?” she wondered.

“Ian says you’ve adapted to this existence better then most greenhorns.”

“If you must know, what happened back on Del Vista bothers me.”

“What that I look like Frankenstein?” Vil looked at the cast on his arm and sighed.

“Vil, the rumors—“

“Rumors shoomors,” Vil dismissed it with a wave of his hand which held the toast. “Let me guess, I'm a chip?”

“How--?” Zahirah blurted.

“Because that rumor has been bouncing around for years, it's like urban legend or something.  There hasn't been a pilot yet who that rumor hasn't been floated about.  If the pilot has any measure of skill or talent, the first rumor that starts is being chipped. I think the only one I've never heard of as being a candidate is Ian.  You know why? He isn’t perfect and only a madman would pull some of the moves he can and has.  He’s one with sheer raw talent. Plus, he worked for Lyle Brockman and Lyle was known for hiring clean.  He would never accept a chip because his whole business would be in jeopardy if he was ever arrested. They would pull his license so fast…” Vil rubbed his cheek where his missing teeth ached.

“Why did you say that grief does odd things?’ she wondered.

“I was thinking about Dad is all.” Vil winced and rubbed his jaw some more.

Zahirah sighed softly but didn’t say anything.

Vil put down the toast, “Shattered dreams… it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t loose Helene on purpose, you didn’t get an abortion.  Demetri was wrong to start that rumor. By the way, that is what Anna Lissa named her, Helene, and she was officially listed as my sister even if she didn’t live. First tradition to list all offspring, living or deceased."

“He did say some hurtful things,” Zahirah pointed out. She didn’t say any more because she knew if she did, she would loose her temper.  Aleksi did say some very hurtful things. He didn’t pay her as he promised. It was a situation she didn’t enjoy discussing and it was making her very uncomfortable.

“I know,” Vil glanced at her. “I wasn’t happy with things either. It drove a wedge between all of us.”

“Why did Ilari leave?” She wondered, changing the subject.

Vil sighed. “Arn left.”

Zahirah blinked, “Arn?”

“I hope my brother is with Casey Carlson right now. He should be.”

“He wasn’t arrested, was he?” Zahirah frowned.

“No, I was the one caught. Ok not caught, but detained for questioning.  Blast U.E.F. regulations and….nonsense!  Lar went with Casey.  Your not upset are you?”

“Why?”

“Because he’s with Casey,” Vil shrugged as if the whole thing was logical to him.

“That’s not what I'm upset about.  I'm upset that you were arrested, I'm upset that it feels like I cannot let go of what happened with your father.  Why were you arrested anyway?”

"Ilari and I pissed off the wrong people.  They wanted me in regards to a shipment we made six months ago.  I tell you though Zee, something isn’t right.  They used me as an example that U.E.F authority on Del Vista should never be questioned.  They used Gestapo tactics on me.  The left me like they did so that I would spread the massage that the next person who tries to circumvent protocol will be dealt with harshly." Vil fell silent and played with the crusts of toast for a moment before he added, “You were good to my father.  You listened.  Demetri started those lies, jealous that you had my dad’s ear more then he did. He assumed that as my father's second in command of the passenger liner AnnaLissa that he had more…access…to my father. You listened far more then he ever did. Hell Zee, you were the first friend my father had since my birth mother Sophia died!"

“But—“

"But, nothing!" Vil snapped. "Demetri was the root of it. Demetri started the rumors.” Vil handed her the plate of toast crusts. He sighed and looked as apologetic as he could. “I don’t think you want me stumbling around your galley.”

~~~~~

Zahirah went to the galley and looked around to see what she could make that was mushy, soft and wouldn’t upset the rest of the crew. Slow cooked beans, pasta, she had several possibilities to consider.  Finally she settled on split pea soup, rich and filling.  At least thinking about it made her feel better.

She stopped and leaned on the counter thinking about what Vil had said about his father, Aleksi, and while it still did carry its sting, maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to put it  all behind her. She had been bitter for a long time but lately it didn’t seem as sharp as it once hand. She felt used.  There was no question in her mind that she felt used.  What Aleksi did was no better then the treatment she had gotten on Yishuv.  They, Aleksi and the Government, wanted her for one thing—to have children.  It didn't work.  She failed.  She couldn’t do something as simple as have children.  It really bothered her, but somehow being the cook on the Lady made her feel better.  It helped her put her past behind her, and maybe that was why the better sense she had was now fading softly away.

She wondered about Ilari and Casey Carlson for a moment.  She wondered why Ilari had gone with this other captain on her ship, and why the brothers had let Arn Kasseli leave with the Wind, unless it was all part of a ruse making it seem one thing when another was going on.  Vil and Ilari trusted Arn.  Aleksi had trusted Arn as well.  Arn was the strong second hand, and had worked for Aleksi ten years before he worked for Vil and Lari. He was the trusted right hand on the Norse Wind. But what about this matter with Casey?  She sighed and decided that Ilari had always done things his own way, met life with a crooked grin.  Had she lied to Ian about her feelings? Perhaps she had, but then how do you explain that she loved Ilari as her brother? No it was easier to let Ian think otherwise rather then explain  matters.

Did Zahirah know Vil and Ilari’s business? No, she didn’t.  The brothers never told her exactly what they did. There was no need, and there was no point.  Why wasn’t anything simple anymore? She sighed and looked in the cupboard pulling out her stock pot to start the slow simmer of the peas.

She was chopping an onion when she felt as if she needed to talk to someone about what had gone on.  She could talk to Ian, but would Ian really understand? There was Rose.  Nova and Win just didn’t seem right even though Win was a sympathetic  ear by training.  Doctors had to be to treat their patients well. It wasn’t like her 'patch-em-up' and 'send-em-out' method of working.  Doctors were there for the long term or so one hoped.  There was fix it and there was fix it so it's right and never happens again.

She didn’t feel comfortable enough yet though to divulge the details, because in some ways it was embarrassing, because so much of it was tied to her tag.  Rose wasn’t a tag so she probably wouldn't understand the nuances of tag life.  Zahirah envied her sometimes.  She could walk where she wanted it seemed, shop in the stores where she wanted.  She had been sent to school where as Zahirah had not.  Zahirah only had a basic education.  She could read write and do basic math but she would never program a computer, pilot a ship or be a doctor.  Vil had more then once expressed his distain for the class system that supposedly didn’t exist. Like Rose, Vil and his brothers were First Cousins, not directly First, but born into that layer of the social hierarchy.  They didn’t worry much about what others though, but then again they were not like some Firsts that Zahirah had seen who were simply pompous asses and took their status to an extreme, flaunting it like their crap didn’t stink, flaunting it so that they could and did do whatever they chose, everyone else be damned.  There were tags that were like this as well, but the callous nature of the Firsts was even more galling.  Even though Oro would understand about the tag aspect of the issue, Zahriah didn’t feel comfortable talking about her short time in Helsinki because she wouldn’t understand First life.

With a sigh she realized that she even had trouble talking with Vil about it. How could she explain how she had liked his father, and how his words were like a slap in the face to her?  How could she explain how she felt about their attempts to make a wrong right felt?  She owed them a debt for getting her away from Aleksi, away from Demetri.  They had hidden her in Nashville so she could get her feet under her.  They risked family strife to make sure she was safe form Demetri's threats. She used the knife to scrape the cutting board into the pot and set it down slowly. Life just didn’t seem fair sometimes. It certainly wasn’t fair that Vil had been made into a UEF punching bag either. Zahirah shivered thinking about the cuts and bruises.  They would heal, but how would he feel about the UEF after treatment like that? Would he get as bitter and reactionary as his father had? Only time would tell.

~~~~~

“Arn is making a regular run,” Vil said as he scooped up his soup. He was answering Brock’s question about the whereabouts of the Norse Wind.

“And what about your brother?” Brock frowned.

“He is working with Casey Carlson on the Comstock Load,” Vil said.

Zahirah glanced at Ian who pushed his bowl around for a moment in a rather uneasy way. “Casey is a piece of work.” Ian announced. Zahirah had the sense that Ian wanted to say something else but didn’t.

Vil snorted softly and shook his head. “Oh yeah.”

“Casey was floating a few rumors back on Del Vista,” Brock pointed out. “Something about you being wanted in connection with the disappearance of someone you were involved with.”

Vil looked up and nodded, “I've heard it. It’s not new.”

“Is there anything to it?” Brock wondered.

“If you're trying to find a reason for why this crap was done to me, there isn’t a connection. The matter of the disappearance stems from some rumors that came from my father’s right hand man, Demetri Korsinchenko.”

Brock frowned, “I don’t think I know him.”

Vil shook his head, “I'm surprised you haven’t. That isn’t the point.  About two years ago, my father hired a woman to be his housekeeper and to carry my sister. He was going to pay all medical expenses, but it didn’t work out. Demetri was a jealous prick and tried playing games with my father, angry that he would talk more to the housekeeper then he would to him.  Demetri was afraid of losing his job. As my dad's right hand man, he had worked himself into a pretty nice spot.”

“What happened to the housekeeper?” Ian wondered.

“Lari and I found a way to shelter her.  She was a good person and we like her very much. We think of her as our sister.”

Ian glanced at Zahirah who was eating quietly and not saying much.

“And your sister?” Rose wondered.

“We lost our sister when she was maybe 12 weeks old.  They, the doctors, could just say it was a girl and that was about it,” Vil shrugged.  He wasn’t a doctor and could only repeat what he had heard.

“But why hire someone to..?” Win wondered. “Was it embryo transfer? Donor?”

“Donor,” Vil sighed. “Umm it—it started out very normal. She was the housekeeper and then after six months dad decided he liked her enough to persuade Anna Lissa, his wife, to allow an embryo to be implanted.  I think my father cared about her and she wasn’t just hired help.”

Nova frowned, “That's strange.”

Vil shrugged, “My father also had the same arrangement with our birth mother.  She was hired as well. It worked well enough. It's really not strange, but a fairly common practice, for those who can afford it. My mother, Sophia, died when I was thirteen during the First New Providence Uprising and he hadn’t hired anyone since. Correction: Anna Lissa didn’t hire anyone to carry one of her embryos since. But when this housekeeper came along, that changed matters.”

Win was thinking, she had a contemplative look on her face as she stared off into nothing.  She shook her head and said, “You say your sister was twelve weeks old...?"

“Twelve weeks since implantation, not birth. I’m not a doctor so I cannot really explain it.”

“Miscarriage?” Win frowned as her medical mind turned it all over. “She lost…?”

Vil nodded, “Dad was out on a run at the time.  I don’t know, Lari and I just did what we could, but the bitter news just made my dad sick.  Tempers flared, heated words were said…accusations flew.  The thing was my father really did care, but in his grief he just came unraveled and started drinking.  My arrest on Del Vista  didn’t have one thing to do with my family’s dirty laundry.”

Cowboy thought about this a minute before he waved his spoon at Vil. “So let me get this straight, you are Aleksi Jannula’s son, right?“

"I'm still his son, Cowboy.  I just happened to be borne by a woman who was not his wife, but hired.  His wife, Anna Lissa, is a cold fish and it’s a marriage in name only. She helped finance the AnnaLissa and Norse Wind, but she would not sully herself with the mundane and barbaric practice of having children.”

“I thought—“

“Dad invested in B.I.D.s for us, but most people don’t realize about the situation we were born into,” Vil shrugged and continued eating the soup, which after several days of not eating tasted very good to him. "It probably doesn’t matter anyway. The B.I.D. says it all and what really matters is the biometric information contained on it."

“So why were you arrested?” Rose wondered.

Vil sighed, “Politics.”

“So they did want to prove their point,” Oro piped up after listening to the story in rapt fascination.

Vil sighed, “Not exactly.  When they stopped me, Ilari was already with Casey.  I was walking back to meet Arn and they stopped me at the gate. They questioned me with regards to a shipment we made about six months ago.”

“You were set up?” Oro said.

“Probably.  It's no mystery where my ship was.”

“Could Demetri have given them the tip?” Zahirah wondered, hoping her voice was holding steady.

Vil studied her for a moment, “I can't say. I simply don’t know.  Something like that would be Demetri’s style though.  He's a coward.”

“Still,” Oro said after thinking about things, “arresting someone and then beating them within an inch of their lives, then just letting them go isn’t the U.E.F. way.”

“Unless they were bought,” Ian pointed out. "Or, like you say, they wanted to make a point and used a visible example."

“They aren’t that corrupt, are they?” Win Green blinked.

“Depends on who is in charge,” Ian snorted. “Win, there are more cover ups and incompetence then you can imagine running all through the ‘elite’ forces. No offence, Oro.”

“None taken, Pilot,” Oro said smoothly.

"You were right about why the beating happened," Ian admitted glancing again at Oro.

“The U.E.F. never caused my family problems,” Nova blinked.

“Nor mine,” Win agreed. “My aunt’s ship was never bothered.”

“You were lucky,” Ian sighed and glanced at Brock.

“They never bothered my dad either, but things are changing.  Things are not the same in every sector.” Brock shook his head and slowly sipped his iced tea.

~~~~~

“This pick up,” Brock said slowly as thoughts turned over in his mind. He glanced at Ian and then at Vil as they hunkered on the bridge. Vil had been invited in so they could talk without the rest of the crew hearing what was being discussed.  The bridge was far more private than Brock’s quarters. Ian had been running the morning checks when Brock brought Vil forward so they could discuss business.

“Arn doesn’t know where it is and Ilari is taking care of another matter.  Brock, I know you like to think things over, and that doesn’t bother me. I know what your position is, even asking you to take on the Jones job was a risk.  I wish that Ilari had not called the favor on that one but that’s not the point.”

“What are we picking up?” Ian wondered.

“Gun mounts,” Vil said. “Fire control systems.”

Brock sighed heavily causing Ian to glance up from the pilot’s seat.  Vil was in the jump seat. Brock was standing behind the copilots seat and leaning on its back.  He was too large to look comfortable in that position.

“I will pay for this Brock, out of my cut of the proceeds. I know it isn’t much to go on--“

“Vil, we brought you on board because you needed help. It was the right thing to do, render assistance according to the Code.” Brock sighed again, “But I won't knowingly move fenced goods. If we were caught with fire control systems and gun mounts, the UEF might have a field day going over this ship with a fine toothed comb.  Given that you were an example of their new found efficacy--”

Vil nodded, “Fine. You are as principled as your father and I don’t mean that in a bad way either, Brock. Your father was a good man., a respected man.”

"Cap'n?" Nova's voice came over the squawk box.  She sounded worried. ”Sir, we are having engine trouble, the reactor is acting oddly."

Ian glanced at Brock. Ian wasn’t running the ship in A.I. mode so he had not seen any error codes and this seemed to startle him. Bock cleared his throat, "I’ll be right down, Nova." Brock sighed and walked off the bridge leaving Ian alone with Vil.

“I pushed it too hard,” Vil remarked after the bridge door closed.

“No, you’re correct. He has his standards,” Ian said softly. “Lyle was a good man too and taught him well. This new wrinkle with the UEF has made him cautious.  We were looked over very well on our approach in."

“I know, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Vil rubbed the stubble on his chin for a moment. The staples that Green had used to close the laceration on his chin were itching as his beard grew in, and it was annoying.

“How did she lose your sister?” Ian asked softly.

Vil shook his head, “She wasn’t one of the lucky ones. I don’t know why she miscarried, but she did."

“What do you mean?” Ian wondered.  “You mean Zahirah was not a lucky one? I've heard her use that term in regards to what her tag says, and how her family was viewed. We have talked about it a lot actually."

“It was a fluke, one of those things that happens sometimes. There was a lot of stress and anger at the time, so it may have been that.  I simply don’t know.  I do know she was scared.  Now, is her tag wrong? I don’t know.  I don’t know what it says, or what status she actually has on Yishuv, but I do know she was supposed to be one of the ones that helps grow that population.  The government is very keen on that matter.  They want that planet fully occupied and green.  Its an obsession." Vil took a shaky breath and rubbed his head wincing when his fingers hit a bruise. “It broke my father’s heart. He was very bitter about loosing the baby and it made working with him damn near impossible.”

“Zahirah wants her tag out,” Ian said.  “She wants to ghost.”

“I don’t blame her.  She can't go home, she would be too ashamed to admit what happened, that she can not bear children. Their government won’t admit to an error either. She would go back and be doomed to the same thing over and over again, an arranged marriage, an empty life. It isn’t a level playing field for the tags.  It seems like the law is different on each world. She is treated as nothing but a pawn.”

“What happened with Ben?” Ian wondered. "Wasn't Zahirah supposed to marry him or something?"

“Same thing,” Vil shook his head. “At least, that is what I think. It would make sense why she didn’t like it or why it didn’t seem to work between them. I don’t know, from what he sounds like, he reminds me of my father’s wife, Anna Lissa.  A cold fish that one is.  Never once  did she treat Ilari, or me, like a son even though we are. To answer your question, yes she was supposed to marry him and have many, many children."

“Do….you love her?” Ian wondered seeing something in Vil’s eyes that wasn’t there before.

Vil laughed and then winced, “Ouch, not a good idea. Yeah, I love her.  She is a warm and generous person.  Lari and I thought of her as our sister, not just my father’s mistress.”

Ian shook his head, “I had that one pegged wrong.”

“Why?”

“I thought she was involved with your brother,” Ian shrugged feeling confused by the whole matter.  His only conclusion was Zahirah just did not want to talk about the matter.

“No, she was close to my brother but she wasn’t involved with him.  She was many things to my father, though,” Vil tried to smile and winced.  “This really sucks, I'm worn out.  I didn’t think getting better was going to be this difficult.”

“So correct me if I'm wrong, but your father would have married Zee if he wasn’t already married to—"

“--Anna Lissa,” Vil injected. “She won’t divorce him.  They’ve been married forever. There's no law that says a First cannot marry a tag, but keeping mistresses is another matter. Some men are louts. Some women are too. He had to have a contract to make it legit. He was a lout for the way he treated her after the loss, but I think that was his broken heart talking.”

“Yeah, that is all too true that there are louts out there, we have seen that already.   I just never thought that Zahirah had been tossed into such a convoluted situation.  I still don't believe I fully understand it,” Ian said.

Vil sighed, "It takes time."  He slowly got up and moved aft to the door like an old man, stooped and stiff. Ian settled back in his seat and studied the screen and the stars for a long time.

~~~~~~

Vil moved like he was ancient. He got to the galley and decided he was going to try the coffee to see if he could keep that down.  He missed coffee. Zahirah was making eggs and handed him a cup from the urn without saying a word.  She knew the vice of most star freighter captains. Vil was about to take a sip when Brock and Rose walked in.

“I have decided not to take the pickup, but we will take you as far as you need to go,” Brock said.

Vil nodded, “Fair enough.”

“I think it's a sound decision, Vil. This gives you time to heal and gives Win time to properly take care of you,” Brock pointed out. “By the time you meet up with the Wind, you should be back to normal.”

Vil laughed, or tried to laugh, ruefully. He sipped the coffee experimentally. “This seems like forever already.”

“In the meantime, you are our guest,” Brock nodded as he helped himself to his cup of morning coffee.

“I understand. And as soon as we hit Craitor, I am going to pay you back for the borrowed clothes and the vittles.”

“And I will make sure you are treated as a guest” Rose said casting a sharp glance at Brock.

Vil glanced at Rose for a moment.  Brock's small cousin of Brock was clearly a force to be reckoned with.  A glance at Brock only revealed the captain’s iron will written in the stern expression he wore, but Rose evidently had some influence over him.  Brock was very much like his old man and Rose had been Brock's father's right hand assistant. Vil sat down slowly.  Zahirah put some eggs in front of him along with another piece of toast.  She put a larger plate in front of Brock and went back to cooking.

~~~~~

Vil decided that being a guest for two weeks  was not as pleasant as it sounded on a ship the size of the Lady.  While she ran efficiently, life on board was also incredibly tedious.  He wasn’t used to sitting still and he wasn’t used to not knowing what the ship was doing exactly.  It was the old shoe being on the other foot, and Brock laughed with him, not at him, about it. He ended up in long conversations with Brock and Ian about “captaining” kinds of things, things that were lost on crew like Zahirah who had so little experience with space and ships that she couldn’t say much.  It was a gap, a chasm that Vil never realized existed before.

Vil also was not immune to the tension that existed amongst the crew.  While they did work well as a team, there were individual differences that he picked up on.  Oro and Ian seemed to be at odds, though just that was never became clear.  Whatever it was, they had the good sense to keep a lid on the simmering pot.  There was also a difference of opinion between Ian and the mechanic which made Vil wonder if she hid down in the engineering level on purpose or by design.  Most of the contention seemed to be with Ian, but Vil also noticed that Zahirah tended to talk more with Oro and Rose then she did the mechanic or Win Green. There was tension between Green and the cargo specialist as well.  There were times Cowboy didn’t say much, but flicked his cards or played backgammon with one eye observing others  while the other  was watching the game he was working on.  He was a gamer too.  He was smart, but hid how smart he really was behind a 'gosh-shucks' exterior.  Vil had the feeling that he conned a lot of people but he was loyal to Brock and the crew.

Making landfall on Craitor was sweet. When the back cargo ramp dropped down to unload, the fresh clean air flooded in like a wave.  One of the first things Vil noticed was Zahirah opened up all the hatches she could and let the air flow through the ship that not unlike someone opening the windows on the first warm spring day.  The ship needed airing out, and Zahirah was in no doubt the keeper of the ship in her own funny way.

Vil secretly smiled because in his estimation Zahirah had found her calling.  She bossed everyone around, mothered them when they needed it, dispensed advice, ruled the galley with an iron fist, and made certain that things ran smoothly. There was always coffee in the urn.  For someone with no formal education, she was quite educated in how to manage people. The more he watched her the more attracted to her he felt.  He had always been attracted to Zahirah, from the first day he met her at the house, to the quiet days in Nashville where she talked more to Ilari then to him.

Vil was walking alone, stretching his legs and looking around when he spotted his father’s ship on the tarmac where passengers  were handled.  The sheiks of Craitor were just as wealthy as a First and held all the prestige of a First but the Firsts looked down their noses at the upstarts.  There was much friction and contention between the Firsts and the sheiks.  It was rumored that the Firsts wanted to remove the old families from the land of Craitor and take over the riches for themselves, but the sheiks were fiercely proud and would never release the land they considered home.  After being removed from Earth, they settled this world and made it flourish.

The sheiks were still nomadic and clung to their traditional ways.  They maintained a capitol city where the spaceport was, as well as the palaces and seats of government, but for the most part they were out on the grassy plains with their tribes. The capitol had a very distinct feel to it with its gold minarets reaching to the clear sky and the sound of prayer calls floating through the air five times a day.  It was actually a peaceful place to go, and a barrage of the senses at times.  The pace of life could be felt, dictated in the call to prayer, the hustle in the markets and the shady tranquility of the cloistered gardens.  Behind the walls of the city were these amazing jewels of gardens housing plants that were native and non-native, with crisp bubbling fountains sparkling in the light of the sun as a center piece.  Water played an important role on this world, both refreshing the soul and bringing in the money.  However, there was a dark side. It was the water the First wanted and lusted after. The sheiks would go to war to protect their water, and that was the dark sobering truth.

The capitol had some amazing features, entertainments that could only be found where there was money.  The scale of things was astounding and it was something of a mind boggler that in walking down the street the latest super ground car could be found with a bearcat standing right next to it,  its rider in traditional head dress conversing with the occupants of the car in the chatter of their native language.  It was a diverse and dynamic world where old and new clashed with interesting results.

Aleksi Jannula spotted his son as he was walking through the crowds by the market gate and laughed.  Vil smiled at his father gently and shook his hand warmly before Aleksi pounded him on the back in a hug.

“The rumors of your being beaten seem greatly exaggerated!” Aleksi laughed after looking Vil over and turning him around.

“Oh no, I was beaten,” Vil corrected. “The cast was just taken off my arm.”

“What for?” Aleksi sobered up. “Where is your brother and where is the Wind?”

Vil sighed, “The Wind isn’t here.”

Aleksi frowned, “Alright the market isn’t a place to talk. There are few places to talk it seems, only where we know the walls and what ears are within range.”

Vil followed Aleksi to the gate and went through the security check to walk aboard the AnnaLissa.  Vil had mixed feelings about being aboard his father’s ship and, even though he had been on her a hundred times before, after being on the Aurora Lady for two weeks, the contrast nearly knocked him over.

He was in the crew section, not the luxury passenger accommodations, but even there all the surfaces were fine blond woods and brushed metals.  The effect was a bright airy ship, far finer then even his Norse Wind.  The AnnaLissa was a first class liner, where First class meant just that.

“So how did you get here?”

“Brockman and the Aurora Lady,” Vil shrugged.

“Interesting,” Aleksi sighed.

“Why?”

“Just that you fell in with the black sheep,” Aleksi said as he got a cup of coffee.

“Brockman is not a black sheep,” Vil pointed out. “The business with Overlinger is bogus.”

“Well, that is not what Overlinger would have you think. Oh, I know! Overlinger is greedy and has done nothing but ruin Brockman Freight.”

“His crew is scrappy,” Vil pointed out as he sipped the coffee. Zahirah’s was better.

“He has scraped it together no doubt,” Aleksi said.

Vil sighed, “He has a lot of nerve and balls to do this, Dad.”

“Oh, I don’t disagree,” Aleksi shrugged.  “But where is your ship? Is your brother out?”

“On a run with Arn.”

“Arn?”

“Arn needs a chance.  He’s a good pilot and a good first mate. Ilari is with Casey Carlson on the Comstock Load.”

“Why? Or shouldn’t I ask.  I shouldn’t ask from the look on your face.”

“He's just doing one run with her, and is meeting up with Arn at the end.”

“And you?”

“They had to leave me on Del Vista,” Vil sighed.

“So you got Brockman to bring you here,” Aleksi sighed as he put the little pieces together in his mind.

Vil cleared his throat, “I found Zahirah.”

“You did? Or did you know and wouldn’t tell me.”

“Dad you were so bloody bit…Jeez I've been hanging around Ian too much.  You were so bitter about that whole thing, I had to do something!”

“You care about her?” Aleksi snapped.

“Of course I do, and so does Ilari,” Vil waved his hand.  “I just spent two weeks with her, and I can honestly say you made one hell of a mistake.”

Aleksi frowned, “I know.  I realize it now.”

“But my sister…“ Vil sighed.

“I was so happy when Zahirah caught. I thought maybe this is the end of this,” Aleksi said softly. “I wanted more children."

“She won’t come back,” Vil shrugged. “I mean Zahirah won’t come back.”

“Demetri drove her away, I know Vil.  I'm blind but I'm not stupid.”

“What about her contract?” Vil wondered.

“I suppose I should void it,” Aleksi sighed. “I don’t know why I haven’t except that I hoped somehow something would change.”

“You know she is better than her tag,” Vil said as he looked at his coffee mug. He couldn’t look his father in the eye because he knew this was a hot button topic.  He had to stand up for her, he needed to do it now.

“Do you think I only looked at her as a tag?”