“An acting troupe?” Basil frowned, as if taking this seriously. “What could an acting troupe steal that would be worth this kind of chase?”
“They didn’t say. I wouldn’t think actors would have access to anything that valuable, myself.”
“Unless . . .” Basil said, dragging the words out. “Suppose—suppose another fugitive—a political fugitive, say—tried to take sanctuary among actors, and they smuggled the person out—or the Benignity thought they did.”
“Ridiculous!” Goonar said. “Why would actors take in a political fugitive—or anyone they didn’t know? That’d be like a Terakian ship picking up any riffraff off the docks. We know better; surely they do too. Besides, I don’t believe there’s anything behind this but the Benignity wanting a ship to use invisibly in Familias space.”
“Yes, but it would make sense,” Basil said. “Look at it from the Benignity point of view—”
“I am,” Goonar said. “And what I see is their desire to use my ship. And I say no.”
“Look,” the Security commander said, “let me talk to the Stationmaster. I’m sure you don’t have any contraband—and maybe he hasn’t realized what the Benignity are up to . . .”
“He’d have to be an idiot,” Goonar said, clashing with Basil’s “He probably thought they were telling the truth, and maybe they are . . .”
“Just let me tell him. You don’t really want to hijack my team—that will cause trouble.”
“I don’t want to take a chance on losing my ship,” Goonar said. But he nodded to his crew, who cut the tangletape and let the militia leader walk up beside Goonar. The man faced the screen.
“Look . . . sir, Captain Terakian is convinced that the Benignity wants to steal his ship. He thinks this is why they’ve been insisting on searching ships before they leave—that they’re looking for a suitable vessel in which to infiltrate the Familias.”
“That’s ridiculous,” the Benignity commander said. “Only a guilty man could have made up a farrago of lies like that—”
Goonar leaned into pickup range. “It’s not a lie that you people invaded Xavier. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the guilty ones. The worst I ever did was get drunk and punch a Fleet ensign back when I was greener than grass.”
The Benignity commander glared, and Goonar met his gaze glare for glare. He’d been glared at by experts in his time—his own father and Basil’s among them—and he wasn’t intimidated. In fact, now that he’d worked himself into believing his own story, he was able to project patriotic ferocity. Finally the Benignity commander sighed. His gaze shifted to the Security commander. “Did you actually inspect every compartment?”
“No . . . only the shuttle bays and the freight compartments adjacent.”
“And they had only thirty minutes . . . What was in that auto-shuttle?”
“What was on the manifest . . . sealed containers, marked with the shipping agents’ codes . . .”
“Did you open them?”
“Not all of them, no.” The Security commander, who had been sounding sulkier throughout this exchange, now burst out. “Listen—you’re not my commander, and I know the Terakians. As far as I’m concerned, they could well be right, and I see no reason why I should do your dirty work.”
A long silence, during which Goonar tried to pump up his resentment of Basil for getting them into this mess into a visible rage at the Benignity. Evidently he succeeded, because the Benignity commander, after a last glare, relaxed slightly.
“All right, Captain Terakian. You may depart. I suppose you’re taking those rather useless specimens of Station Security with you . . .”
“Not if they don’t want to go,” Goonar said. “But since you appear to be in command of a civilian Station, they might rather.” He glanced at the Security commander, whose face had paled as he thought through the implications of that.
“We intend no harm to the civilian population,” the Benignity commander said.
“Just like at Xavier,” Goonar said.
“Can we stay?” the Security commander asked Goonar.
“I’m not going to put Familias citizens in the hands of the Benignity if they choose to avoid it,” Goonar said. He sounded pompous, almost theatrical, and hoped the Benignity commander would simply think he was that way by nature. Maybe he was. His family always insisted that the real character showed in times like these. “Ask your men.”
Chapter Three
Merchant ships always used tugs for undocking, but Goonar didn’t trust the Benignity commander; he’d signalled his crew and powered up the ship the instant the Benignity commander appeared on screen. When he realized that the only real threat could be the Station’s own defenses, he knew that his insystem drive was the only viable counterthreat. Yes, the Station could blow his ship . . . but with the insystem drive up, it was suicide for the Station and every other ship docked there. Now he ordered his pilot to pull away from the Station, as slowly as Fortune’s attitude thrusters permitted.
As soon as possible—it seemed longer than the chronometer indicated—he increased power and set his outbound course toward the jump point. When it appeared that the Station was not, after all, going to spend any of its meagre store of missiles on him, he turned to glare at Basil.
“Come on, Bas, we need to have a chat.”
In the privacy of the shielded captain’s cabin, Goonar rounded on Basil. “I ought to fry your kidneys for breakfast,” he said. “Of all the stupid plots to get us tangled in—”
Basil didn’t even try to look innocent this time. “It was important.”
“And you didn’t bother to tell me—”
“We didn’t have time, cousin. Truly, I would have told you—”
“But you didn’t.” Goonar folded his hands together, rather than around Basil’s neck. “Bas, we’ve been partners for years. You know me, and I thought I knew you. You chose not to put yourself forward for captain; you wanted to work with me—”
“Of course, I did—!”
“Wait. You know—you must realize—that a captain needs to be able to trust his second-in-command. You should have found a way, some way, to give me warning . . .”
Basil muttered something, looking away.
Goonar could feel his own neck stiffening. “Basil,” he said. “What did you just say?”
“I said, I thought you’d act the innocent better if you were.” Basil had flushed. “And you did.”
For some reason, this struck Goonar as funny. He was still angry, and not ready to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. “I might have done even better if I had known, cousin mine . . .”
“I’m sorry,” Basil said, this time seriously. “I should have found a way. I will next time.”
“There’s going to be a next time?” Goonar asked.
“Not that I know of, but if,” Basil said.
“Well, then. What is the great secret we’re hauling? Did they tell you why the Benignity wants them? Or did you just fall for a pretty woman in distress?”
“It’s one of the stage hands, they said. He’s not a criminal, they said, but he is a fugitive.”
“ ‘I am innocent of all wrongdoing, but envious rumor has spread lies around my feet,’ ” Goonar sang. “Act Two, Scene Four. Is that it?”
“I don’t know,” Basil said, spreading his hands. “I did ask, but they just insisted he wasn’t a thief or murderer, and begged sanctuary.”
Goonar sat up straight. “Sanctuary. That’s a religious word. Did you speak to the person yourself?”
“Well . . . yes. I wanted to size him up. He’s a quiet fellow—older man, pleasant voice—”
“A con artist,” Goonar said.
“No . . . I don’t think so. Not plausible and charming—I had the sense of . . . of someone like a scholar, maybe. The quietness wasn’t fear or shyness, just a habitual quiet.”