“Yes,” said Heris, drumming her fingers on her desk. “I had a message that you called,” she said finally, when the silence had gone on too long.
“Oh. Yes. That. I just . . . I just wondered if you’d like to have dinner sometime. Tonight maybe? There’s a new band at Salieri’s.”
“Sorry,” Heris said, not really sorry at all. “There’s ship’s business to deal with.” Certainly the captain’s relationship with the First Engineer was ship’s business.
“Oh . . . ah . . . another time? Maybe tomorrow?”
Tone and expression both suggested urgency. What was he up to? Heris opened her mouth to tell him to come clean, then remembered the doubtful security of their link. “I . . . should be free then. Why not? What time?”
“Whatever’s best for you . . . maybe mid-second shift?” An odd way of giving a time, for either a civilian or a Fleet officer. Heris nodded at the screen, and hoped she could figure out later what kind of signal he was giving her.
“Mid-second indeed. Meet you there?”
“Why not at the shuttle bay concourse? You shouldn’t have to dash halfway across the Station by yourself.” Odder and odder. Arash had never minded having his dates use up their own resources. Heris entered the time and place in her desktop calendar and grinned at him.
“It’s in my beeper. See you tomorrow.”
“Yes . . .” He seemed poised to say more, then sighed and said “Tomorrow, then” instead.
“There’s a little problem,” Arash Livadhi said. He had been waiting when Heris reached the shuttle docks concourse; he wore his uniform with his old dash and attracted more than one admiring glance. Heris wanted to tell the oglers how futile their efforts were, but knew better. Now he walked beside her as courteously as a knight of legend escorting his lady. It made Heris nervous. “Nothing major, just a bit . . . awkward.”
“And awkward problem solving is a civilian specialty? Come on, Arash, you have some of the best finaglers in Fleet on your ship.”
“It’s not that kind of thing, exactly.”
“Well what, exactly?”
“It’s something you’d be much better at . . . you know you have a talent—”
She knew when she was being conned. “Arash, I’m hungry, and you’ve promised me a good meal . . . at least wait until I’m softened up before you start trying to put your hooks in.”
“Me?” But that wide-eyed look was meant to be seen through. He grinned at her; it no longer put shivers down her spine, but she had to admit the charm. “Greedy lady . . . and yes, I did agree to feed you. Salieri’s is still acceptable?”
“Entirely.” Expensive and good food, a combination rarer than one might suppose. And whatever Arash thought he was getting from her, it would not include anything more than a dinner companion . . . she wondered if he had any idea of her present situation with Petris. Probably not, and better that he live in blissful ignorance.
Salieri’s midway through the second shift had a line out to the concourse, but Arash led her past it. “We have reservations,” he said. Sure enough, at his murmur the gold-robed flunky at the door let them pass. Heris felt her spirits lift in the scarlet and gold flamboyance of the main foyer, with the sweet strains of the lilting waltz played by a live orchestra in the main dining room. Whatever Arash wanted, this would be fun.
Two hours later, after a lavish meal, he got down to it. “You do owe me a favor, you know,” he said.
“True. That and a fat bank account will get you a dinner at Salieri’s.”
“Hardhearted woman. I suppose even civilian life couldn’t soften your head.” He didn’t sound surprised.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Captain Livadhi. What’s your problem?”
“You mentioned my illustrious crew. My . . . er . . . talented finaglers.”
Heris felt her eyebrows going up. “So I did. So they are. What else?”
Livadhi leaned closer. “There’s someone I need to get off my ship. Quickly. I was hoping—”
“What’s he done?” Heris asked.
“It’s not so much that,” Livadhi said. “More like something he didn’t do, and he needs to spend some time out of contact with Fleet Command.”
“Or he’ll drag you down with him?” Heris suggested, from a long knowledge of Livadhi. She was not surprised to see the sudden sheen of perspiration on his brow, even in the dim light of their alcove.
“Something like that,” he admitted. “It’s related to the matter you and I were involved in, but I really don’t want to discuss it in detail.”
“But you want me to spirit him away for a while, without knowing diddly about him?”
“Not . . . in detail.” He gave her a look that had melted several generations of female officers; she simply smiled and shook her head.
“Not without enough detail to keep my head off the block. How do I know that you aren’t being pressured to slip an assassin aboard to get rid of Lady Cecelia? Or me?”
“It’s nothing like that,” he said. In the pause that followed, she could almost see him trying on various stories to see which she might accept. As he opened his mouth, she spoke first.
“The truth, Livadhi.” To her satisfaction, he flushed and looked away.
“The truth is . . . it’s not like that; it’s not an assassin. It’s my best communications tech, who’s heard what he shouldn’t have, and needs a new berth. He’s a danger to himself, and to the ship, where he is.”
“On my ship,” said Heris. “With my friends . . . are you sure no one’s put you up to this to land trouble on me?” This time his flush was anger.
“On my honor,” he said stiffly. Which meant that much was true; the Livadhis, crooked as corkscrews in some ways, had never directly given the lie while on their honor. She knew that; he knew she knew that.
“All right,” she said. “But if he gives me the wrong kind of trouble, he’s dead.”
“Agreed. Thank you.” From the real gratitude in his voice she knew the size of the trouble his man was in. Then what he’d said earlier caught up with her. Communications tech . . . best? That had to be . . .
“Koutsoudas?” she asked, trying to keep her face still. He just grinned at her, and nodded. “Good heavens, Arash, what is the problem?”
“I can’t say. Please. He may tell you, if he wants—I don’t think it’s a good idea, but the situation may change, and I trust his judgment. Just take care of him. If you can.”
“Oh, I think we’re capable of that. When do you want him back?”
“Not until things settle down. I’ll get word to you, shall I?” Then, before she could say anything, he added, “Well, that’s all taken care of . . . would you like to dance?” The orchestra had just launched into another waltz. Heris thought about it. Arash had been a good dancing partner in the old days, but in the meantime she’d danced with Petris at the Hunt Ball.
“No, thank you,” she said, smiling at the memory. “I had better get back to work. When shall I expect . . . er . . . your package?”
Arash winced. “Efficient as ever. Or have I lost the touch?”
“I don’t think so,” Heris said. “You just put the touch on me, if you think about it that way, and I do. But my owner isn’t thrilled with the number of ex-military crew we have now, and she’s going to have kittens—or, in her case, colts—when she finds out about this. I have some preliminary groundwork to do.”
“Ah. Well, then, allow me to escort you at least to the concourse.”
“Better not.” Heris had been thinking. “This was a very public meeting, and I can understand your reasoning. But why let whomever is interested think you might have convinced me of whatever it is you were after?”
“I thought an open quarrel would be too obvious,” Livadhi said. “If we were simply courteous—”
Heris grinned at him. “I am always courteous, Commander, as you well know. Even in a quarrel.”