Part 1 (2/2)
”In a couple of hours. I wanted to give us some thinking time.”
He sighed then, to himself. They had best use it well.
This was purely a buyer's market. They had to unload that freighter, and Rael Cofort would know that every bit as well as they did themselves.
Miceal was too accustomed to his brown Trade uniform to be much bothered by it even with all fastenings in place and the high, stiff dress collar squeezing his neck, especially not with so important a meeting as this to claim his attention.
He studied the woman who had seated herself opposite him and Van Rycke as closely as he could without making his scrutiny too obvious. Tang had been right in calling Rael Cofort attractive, and equally correct in saying there was something unique in her appearance. It was not easy to place her in one of the major Terran sub-races or a.s.sign a planet of origin for her line. She had been s.p.a.ce-born herself.
She was of about average height, slender, with the lithe, tightly controlled body of a veteran s.p.a.cer. There was no accompanying tan, however, although her pallor was very different from Jasper Weeks's. That skin might never darken, but it was alive with a soft warmth of its own.
Her features were delicately formed, fragile looking, making the thickly lashed- eyes appear impossibly large. They were a subtle violet color that seemed to alter with every change of thought or mood. The hair was tawny, golden like the coat of a Terran lion. She kept it long, braided and fastened in a coronet to her head in the fas.h.i.+on adopted by most female s.p.a.ce hounds.
Her hands, he saw as they shuffled through the contents of the slender safe-lock portfolio she carried, were long-fingered and beautifully formed. They were also very small. One of them would not have spanned Van Rycke's palm, or his own, for that matter.
She chose a doc.u.ment and held it out to them. ”My authorization to act as agent for Teague Cofort of the Roving Star.”
The Cargo-Master accepted the paper and read it, as was his right in a matter of Trade. ”Dated this morning?”
She nodded. ”He fasmitted it when I informed him of the possible sale.”
”We hadn't broadcast any interest in parting with the s.p.a.ce Wrack,” he observed.
The young woman smiled and shrugged delicately.
”When I planeted, I prowled around, asked a few questions, and came up with some deductions. Teague told me to go for it if the deal was reasonable.”
Van Rycke leaned back in his chair. ”Ms. Cofort, I confess that I'm finding it a bit difficult to believe you were sent all the way to Trewsworld on the chance of finding a small freighter coming up for sale. Trade here isn't all that spectacular, and similar chances to latch onto a s.h.i.+p aren't all that uncommon even put here on the rim, much less in the inner systems you often frequent, not when there's a good supply of credits on hand to pay for her.”
”I was not sent here, of course. I came on the Mermaid.”
”The Mermaid lifted yesterday morning.”
Her eyes flashed with the anger she otherwise chained.
”I didn't like the way Riff Slate ran his s.h.i.+p.”
Van Rycke's brows raised. ”He just let you go, or hadn't you formally signed on?”
”I'd signed. - He didn't dare try to hold me. He doesn't keep many hands for long.” Her lips tightened in a hard, cold line. ”Most Captains economize when business is lean, but not on the life-support and emergency systems. An apprentice died during the voyage in an inconceivable outcome of an accident that should never have occurred and would not have occurred on any other vessel. To my mind, that death was nothing short of murder.”
”You can't prove that?” Jellico asked sharply.
”No, and I wasn't vacuum-brained enough to spread my opinion around, either. I just muttered things about jinxed voyages, and Slate let me out of my contract before I scared the rest of his crew away or into making some move that might start a formal inquiry into the number of hands the Mermaid's s.h.i.+pped over the last few years. As it is, he has a lot of extremely unhappy people aboard.”
”What did you think you'd do here once you were let loose?” Van Rycke inquired.
”Stay alive. That's a singularly appealing idea even if one has to work as a planet hugger for a time to keep eating. I knew something would eventually come along.”
Rael squared her shoulders. ”If you are satisfied, perhaps we could discuss the s.p.a.ce Wrack instead of delving into my uninspiring history.”
The Cargo-Master made a formal bow with his head.
”What are Cofort's terms?”
It would come down to that. Teague Cofort was merely willing to pick the s.h.i.+p up if he could conveniently do so. They would have to work with his terms or be prepared to reject them outright.
”We'll give what you initially paid for her.”
”Plus ten percent for the work we put into her.”
The woman shook her head. ”Our price is fair. You've knocked at least that much out of her, and right now she's chaining you hands and feet. You won't do better, and if you wait, she'll wind up costing you besides in port expenses and maintenance.”
”We've been carrying those costs. We have to get them back at the least, or we don't deal.”
”I'd say you already have. This isn't a wildly rich charter, but it's solid and it's steady.”
Van Rycke leaned back in his chair, as if closing the discussion. ”I'm sorry, Ms. Cofort. We have to do better than break even. If it means we have to wait a bit and take on another mail run, so be it. The s.p.a.ce Wrack's a good s.h.i.+p, a fine one for her cla.s.s. Buyers will eventually come for her.”
She eyed him thoughtfully. ”I have my brother's permission to trade for myself as well.”
Van Rycke bent forward again. ”We'll be happy to accommodate you in any way consistent with the Queen's welfare. What do you propose?”
”The expenses you mention in return for pa.s.sage to Canuche of Halio, preferably a paid working pa.s.sage. I could use a few extra credits, and I don't think you'll be sorry for my services. You'll be heading for there anyway,” she added practically, ”so I won't be putting you out.”
”What makes you imagine that?”
”Canuche's the nearest planet where you'll have a reasonable chance of picking up a decent charter as well as be able to flesh out your stock of trade goods.”
The Cargo-Master took the ID she withdrew from her portfolio. He looked sharply at her. ”A Medic?”
Rael nodded. ”Aye. Fully accredited.”
Her fingers reached for the disk and closed over it. ”I'm aware that you don't need an a.s.sistant Medic aboard. No s.h.i.+p of the Queen's cla.s.s does, or believes she does, unless the inc.u.mbent plans to retire in the near future and wants to train in his replacement. I'm working my way as a jack-of-all-trades.”
”The Solar Queen is fully staffed,” Jellico interjected. ”I'm not about to let go any of my permanent crew.”
”Hardly,” she agreed, ”but tell me the department that can't use a bit of help now and then-Mr. Van Rycke's when cargo's being laded or s.h.i.+fted, the Engineering section during preventive maintenance, even the Steward and Medic once in a while depending on the press of their particular duties. About the only place I won't volunteer to serve is on the bridge. I'm as good as the next and probably better than most at basic astrogation, but that one is definitely best left to the experts.”
The smile she turned on them was winning. Rael was sure of getting the pa.s.sage, but she was out for more than that. ”I want to be part of the Solar Queen,” she told them frankly, ”if only for one voyage.”
”Why?” Miceal asked bluntly. ”She won't match a Cofort s.h.i.+p, especially not the Roving Star, for comfort, and you can put credits down that we won't be calling at the Federation's most fas.h.i.+onable s.p.a.ceports.”
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