«Sure wouldn't, Carialle,» the mech-tech said, with a brilliant smile at the visible camera. The servo met her edge of the dock, and handed the painting to her.
«You've got talent, gal,» Simeon said, still sharing her video system as she watched the tech leave the bay. «Thank you. I'll treasure it.»
«It's nothing,» Carialle said modestly. «Just a hobby.»
«Fardles. Say, I've got a good idea. Why don't you do a gallery showing next time you're in port? We have plenty of traders and bigwigs coming through who would pay good credit for original art. Not to mention the added cachet that it's painted by a brainship.»
«We-ell . . .» Carialle said, considering.
«I'll give you free space near the concessions for the first week, so you're not losing anything on the cost of location. If you feel shy about showing off, you can do it by invitation only, but I warn you, word will spread.»
«You've persuaded me,» Carialle said.
«My intentions are purely honorable,» Simeon replied gallantly. «Frag it!» he exclaimed. The speed of transmission on his frequency increased to a microsquirt. «You're as loaded and ready as you're going to get, Carialle. Put it together and scram off this station. The Inspector General wants a meeting with you in fifteen minutes. He just told me to route a message through to you. I'm delaying it as long as I dare.»
«Oh, no!» Carialle said at the same speed. «I have no intention of letting Dr. Sennet 'I am a psychologist' Maxwell-Corey pick through my brains every single fardling time I make stationfall. I'm cured, damn it! I don't need constant monitoring.»
«You'd better scoot now, Cari. My walls-with-ears have heard rumors that he thinks your 'obsession' with things like Myths and Legends makes your sanity highly suspect. When he hears the latest report—your Beasts Blatisant—you're going to be in for another long psychological profile session, and Keff along with you. Even Maxwell-Corey has to justify his job to someone.»
«Damn him! We haven't finished loading my supplies! I only have half a vat of nutrients, and most of the stuff Keff ordered is still in your stores.»
«Sorry, honey. It'll still be here when you come back. I can send you a squirt after he's gone.»
Carialle considered swiftly whether it was worth calling in a complaint to SPRIM over the Inspector General and his obsessive desire to prove her unfit for service. He was witch-hunting, of that she was sure, and she wasn't going to be the witch involved. Wasn't it bad enough that he insisted on making her relive a sixteen-year-old tragedy every time they met? One day there was going to be a big battle, but she didn't feel like taking him on yet.
Simeon was right. The CK-963 was through with decontamination and repairs. Only half a second had passed during their conversation. Simeon could hold up the IG's missive only a few minutes before the delay would cause the obstreperous Maxwell-Corey to demand an inquiry.
«Open up for me, Simeon. I've got to find Keff.»
«No problem,» the station-master said. «I know where he went.»
«Keff,» said the wall over his head. «Emergency transmission from Carialle.»
Keff tilted his head up lazily. «I'm busy, Simeon. Privacy.» Susa's hand reached up, tangled in his hair, and pulled it down again. He breathed in the young woman's scent, moved his hands in delightful counterpoint under her body, one down from the curve other shoulder, pushing the thin cloth of her ship-suit down; one upward, caressing her buttocks and delicate waist. She locked her legs with his, started her free hand toward his waistband, feeling for the fastening.
«Emergency priority transmission from Carialle,» Simeon repeated.
Reluctantly, Keff unlocked his lips from Susa's. Her eyes filled with concern, she nodded. Without moving his head, he said, «All right, Simeon. Put it through.»
«Keff,» Carialle's voice rang with agitation. «Get down here immediately. We've got to lift ship ASAP.»
«Why?» Keff asked irritably. «You couldn't have finished loading already.»
«Haven't. Can't wait. Got to go. Get here, stat!»
Sighing, Keff rolled off Susa and petulantly addressed the ceiling. «What about my shore leave? Ladylove, while I like nothing better in the galaxy than being with you ninety-nine percent of the time, there is that one percent when we poor shell-less ones need—»
Carialle cut him off. «Keff, the Inspector Generals on station.»
«What?» Keff sat up.
«He's demanding another meeting, and you know what that means. We've got to get as far away from here as we can, right away.»
Keff was already struggling back into his ship-suit. «Are we refueled? How much supplies are on board?»
Simeon's voice issued from the concealed speaker. «About a third full,» he said. «But it's all I can give you right now. I told you supplies were short. Your foods about the same.»
«We can't go far on that. About one long run, or two short ones.» Keff stood, jamming feet into boots. Susa sat up and began pulling the top of her coverall over her bare shoulders. She shot Keff a look of regret mingled with understanding.
«We'll get missing supplies elsewhere,» Carialle promised. «What's the safest vector out of here, Simeon?»
«I'll leave,» Susa said, rising from the edge of the bed. She put a delicate hand on his arm. Keff stooped down and kissed her. «The less I hear, the less I have to confess if someone asks me under oath. Safe going, you two.» She gave Keff a longing glance under her dark lashes. «Next time.»
Just like that, she was gone, no complaints, no recriminations. Keff admired her for that. As usual, Carialle was correct: a brawn's ideal playmate was another brawn. It didn't stop him feeling frustrated over his thwarted sexual encounter, but it was better to spend that energy in a useful manner. Hopping into his right boot, he hurried out into the corridor. Ahead of him, Susa headed for a lift. Keff deliberately turned around, seeking a different route to his ship.
«Keep me out of Maxwell-Corey's way, Simeon.» He ran around the curve of the station until he came to another lift. He punched the button, pacing anxiously until the doors opened.
«You're okay on that path,» the stationmaster said, his voice following Keff. The brawn stepped into the empty car, and the doors slid shut behind him. «All right, this just became an express. Brace yourself.»
«What about G sector?» Carialle was asking as Keff came aboard the CK-963. All the screens in the main cabin were full of star charts. Keff nodded Carialle's position in the main column and threw himself into his crash couch as he started going down the pre-launch list.
«Okay if you don't head toward Saffron. That's where the Fleet ships last traced Belazir's people. You don't want to meet them.»
«Fragging well right we don't.»
«What about M sector?» Keff said, peering at the chart directly in front of him. «We had good luck there last time.»
«Last time you had your clock cleaned by the Losels,» Carialle reminded him, not in too much of a hurry to tease. «You call that good luck?»
«There're still a few systems in that area we wanted to check. They fitted the profile for supporting complex lifeforms,» Keff said, unperturbed. «We would have tried MBA-487-J, except you ran short of fuel hotdogging it and we had to limp back here. Remember, Cari?»
«It could happen any time we run into bad luck,» Carialle replied, not eager to discuss her own mistakes. «We're running out of time.»
«What about vectoring up over the Central Worlds cluster? Toward galactic 'up'?»