"It's beautiful," she said, never noticing his hesitation. "You make me wish I had a setup like it."
"Aren't you happy where you are?"
"Are you mad?" she asked, with a pitying scowl. "If it wasn't for the Thelerie, well…"
"What about the Thelerie?" Keff asked, quickly.
Mirina looked at him hard. "Are you from Central Worlds?" she asked.
"Reformed," Keff said, with a pious expression that made her laugh, but she was still serious.
"They're a kind, innocent people. I don't want them exploited, do you understand me?"
"Isn't that what you're doing?" Keff asked, very gently.
"No!" Then, more honestly, she added, "Not entirely. We trade with them, but they get value from us, too. My program…"
Keff leaned up on one elbow, as if to listen better. Mirina stopped in midsentence, realizing that this dashing, handsome man was pumping her. Keff saw he had gone too far.
"This bottle's empty," he said, swinging himself upright with a casual show of strength that made Mirina's eyes light with appreciation. "Let's see what else is in the cellar. Look at that!" Keff dusted down a squarish container with a glass stopper covered with wax. "I didn't think I had any of this left."
"Your nose ought to be a foot long by now," Carialle said. But Mirina didn't seem to mind. The twenty-five-year-old brandy went down as neatly as the wine had, sip by sip. It loosened up whatever tight grip she'd had on herself, and in time, Keff's careful questions began to elicit answers.
"The program to supply the Thelerie with communication equipment was yours?"
"Yes," she said. "The ones who decided to come home again had seen us using commlinks, thought it was a good idea. No mass communication at all on this planet. Once you were out of sight, you were gone. It was cheap, and they were so grateful! You've got some nice comm circuitry among your merchandise. If the price was right, that is."
"Might knock it down for a friend," Keff said. "I don't have to make anything on it for a good cause."
"I don't care, particularly. The profit's not mine any more anyway. It's the Melange's, and Aldon's. What the hell," Mirina said, expansively, "for the Thelerie, too."
His blue eyes twinkled with understanding. Mirina was reminded of what she used to think Charles looked like. Careful, girl, she told herself fiercely. He's the enemy. But he was very attractive, she thought, looking at him from under her lashes as she took a sip of the fire-smooth brandy. In return, he gave her a top-to-toe sweep of his eyes that made her gasp for its very insouciance. Unconsciously she shifted position, straightening her shoulders and tilting her head to one side. Great stars, I'm acting like a coquette! And yet, it was so nice to relax for a change.
"How long have you been… involved with the griffins?" Keff asked.
She wrinkled her eyebrows, trying to place the reference, then her face cleared as she grinned. "I never thought of that, but they do look like griffins. Did heraldic beasts ever really live?"
"I don't think so," said Keff.
"Not much of a student of history, is she?" Carialle asked.
"Don't be a snob, Cari," Keff muttered. "How'd you come to ship out with Bisman?"
"I came on board eight years ago, right after Charles died. Zonzalo-my brother-fell in with them. He thought flying with reivers was a great adventure. I found him on one of their lousy bases, half-starved, with leaky air-recirculation equipment, no organization. So pathetic, I stayed," Mirina said, staring into the amber liquid in her glass. "Shouldn't have stayed but," her shoulders slumped, "but I had nowhere to go, nowhere to take him to."
"Didn't you have to go back to your job, or your school?" Keff asked. "You know your way around ships, I can tell. A valuable employee like you."
"Lost my position," Mirina said, more shortly than she'd intended. "I've been an idiot, but the Thelerie have been wonderful. They're grateful for everything we do. I've had to force Bisman not to lead them into using polluting machinery. They've got plenty of physical strength and simple machines to take care of motive-force needs, plus, dammit! they can fly. No travel problems. The electronics just help with communications."
"She's really thought this out," Carialle said. "Here's the organizing mind."
"I'd give anything if she wasn't involved in a pirate ring," Keff murmured under his breath.
Mirina wasn't really paying attention. "What did you say?"
"Very well thought out," Keff said hastily. "You've done good work. You thought of everything. You must be some organizer. I, uh, I think there's room in this for both of our groups. I can't say the Circuit won't cut into your parts business, but I'm willing to take it to the Lady over the ethical framework you've built."
She looked grateful and annoyed at the same time. "We'll want a cut," she said. "We've got expenses. Overhead."
"So've we," Keff said, nonchalantly playing the game.
"We'll negotiate it," Mirina said, compromising. "Well, Aldon will. I… don't suppose there's room in your organization? For a good planner?"
Keff looked surprised. "Thinking of moving on?"
"I have to," she said.
"Being forced out?"
"No. I just can't stand it any longer. The deaths, and all. Now that everything's at about subsistence level Aldon is getting uncontrollable. I never condoned death; I've always tried to prevent it. I hate death. Can't take any more of it in my life."
"How mysterious for someone in her profession," Carialle said.
"Are you going back to what you did before? Were you a pilot?"
"More than that," Mirina said, then thought about it. "Well, and less." The whole accident came back to her, as it did in her nightmares. She had a final, horrible vision of the dock crew trying to spray down the burning ship, the pillar in the control room slagging into molten metal. All the skin on her hands and face were burned, as she tried to fight her way back aboard, to save him if she could. They held her back. They kept her out! Charles!
She let out a cry that brought Keff to his feet in surprise, then fell into heartbroken sobbing. Keff hurried over and sat down next to her on the molded chair's arm. She was beating her fist on her knee. He captured the hand and held it tightly between his own hands.
"I'm sorry," she said, looking up with tears sheeting down her cheeks. "I'm sorry."
"What's the matter?" Keff asked, squeezing her hand. "Why couldn't you have gotten another berth with someone else?"
"Never anyone else like Charles," she sobbed, turning her face into his tunic front. Keff was so nice and sympathetic, but he wasn't Charles. Charles remained dead.
"Go on, tell me about it," Keff said. He felt for a handkerchief, and ended up handing her the napkin that was tucked between her hip and the seat cushion.
In between sobs, Mirina managed to tell the story of the accident.
"… I guess my supervisor was right-no, I know he was. I was insubordinate, and I should have stayed in therapy, but my brother was in danger! Why couldn't they have understood that?"
Keff's heart melted with sympathy. Over the top of her head, he looked automatically toward Carialle's pillar. He wrapped his arms around the woman and held her tightly.
"Keff, she was a brawn!" Carialle said. "What was the brain's name? Charles? Yes, I remember it. You ought to, as well. Charles CM-702. M must have stood for Mirina. It was a freak accident. Combination of a hazardous cargo, an accident on the loading dock, and bad handling by the ground crew. If they hadn't been at a space station, the brawn would have died, too. The last thing that Charles did before his shell melted down was to order one of his servo robots to pull the brawn out of the burning wreckage. There was hardly anything left for the authorities to identify. Now I know why I didn't recognize her name. It's Mirina Velasquez-Donegal. She and her brother must have shortened it when they adopted noms-de-guerre."