The senior partner looked as if something were crawling over his skin. “Yes . . . ?”
“Some . . . er . . . pets, I suppose.”
“Pets?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, they’ve been somewhat of an embarrassment to us. During a crisis, a medical team member spotted . . . well, let’s just say evidence of their presence. They recommended we contact Environmental Control to fumigate the ship—”
He paled; Heris was afraid he might faint. “You told them . . . ?”
“No . . . I decided they represented no present hazard. We could dispose of them appropriately.” So they had, she thought with wicked glee. Sirkin, Brun, Meharry, and Oblo had ensured a most unpleasant surprise for a certain therapist they blamed for Yrilan’s death. With any luck at all, the discovery of illegal biologicals in her possession would lead to full investigation of all her activities.
His flush was as pronounced as the pallor had been. “Ahhh . . . thank you, Captain.”
“No need. It would have benefited neither of us for Environmental Control to come down on you.” Heris smiled. From his expression, her smile was not reassuring; she hadn’t meant it to be.
“Benefited . . . ?”
“Come now—it’s clear to me what you do with those . . . er . . . insects. That is, I presume, an industrial secret of some worth to you. So the benefit to you of my silence is obvious. The benefit to me—” She leaned forward, savoring his uneasiness. “You know, the ship still needs redecorating. The deposit paid to you has been earning you interest all this time—I think you owe me—and Lady Cecelia—a very fast, very special redecoration.”
“But—but Captain Serrano—”
“Very fast,” Heris emphasized. Then she opened her hand, where an egg case lay. “Don’t you?”
He gave in, as she had known he would. “As planned before, or do you have something else in mind?”
“Here are the specifications,” Heris said, handing him a datacube. She and Cecelia and the crew had discussed it. “Except for one thing.” She dropped the egg case on his desk. “This time, make sure you get all the bugs out.”