"I'd prefer Ms. Keal."
For a moment my tongue tangled around itself with confusion. Orlandis hadn't raised his voice, hadn't so much as cocked an eyebrow, but suddenly I felt like a child... or an underling.
And if there was anything guaranteed to pull my control rods it was someone pushing me around who didn't have the right to do so. I was ungluing my tongue to say something approximating that when Alana jumped in. "If you don't mind, Captain," she said, "I have no objections to showing Mr. Orlandis around during my off-duty hours."
I looked away from Orlandis's steady gaze to find Alana staring just as intently at me, a hint of pleading in her expression. Don't anger the passengers. With a supreme effort of will I gave in. "Very well, I said, turning back to Mr. Orlandis. "You and Ms. Keal may make your own arrangements on this. Please bear in mind that her work schedule may need to change on short notice; ships like the Aura Dancer are almost by definition always short of hands to do the necessary work."
He nodded once, a simple acknowledgment without any detectable trace of triumph to it. He was used to being obeyed; pure and simple. "It will be, what, another five days until the next cascade maneuver?"
"About that," I told him, wishing obscurely that I could rattle off the precise time to him, in days, hours, and minutes. "You'll have plenty of warning; don't worry."
"I wasn't. Will the food be much longer?"
I glanced at Tobbar, who had presumably been there when they all submitted their orders. "Another minute or two; no more," he told Orlandis. "Our autochef is getting a bit old and sometimes takes its time filling orders."
"These things happen," Orlandis said equably. "Captain, I don't believe you've ordered yet."
An invitation to an entire evening of cat-eat-mouse sparring? Perhaps; but if it was, I was going to take the coward's way out. "I'm sorry; but as I said, I won't be able to stay," I told him, getting to my feet.
"There's some work on the bridge I need to attend to. Please enjoy your dinner, and I expect I'll be talking with you all again soon."
"Perhaps under more relaxed conditions," Orlandis said. "Good evening, Captain."
I turned, and as I did so the autochef beeped its announcement that dinner was finally ready. Assured that they all had something more interesting than me to occupy their attention, I made my escape.
I went to the bridge, kicked Pascal out-it was his shift, but he had some maintenance work on the computer he wanted to do anyway-and pulled a copy of the cargo manifest. Just for something to do, actually... but when Alana stopped in an hour later I was still studying it. "Dinner over already?" I asked her as she slid into her chair and swiveled it to face me.
"More or less," she said, eying me closely. "Orlandis and Tobbar are going hard at a discussion on governmental theory. I get the impression Orlandis knows a lot about the subject."
"More or less," she said, eying me closely. "Orlandis and Tobbar are going hard at a discussion on governmental theory. I get the impression Orlandis knows a lot about the subject."
I grunted. "You noticed that, did you?"
"Come on, Pall-it's no big deal if I play tour guide for a couple of hours. I've done it before, you know."
"It's the principle of the thing," I told her stiffly. "Passengers don't give a ship's captain orders."
Her eyebrows rose at that. "He never ordered you to let me show him around. You could have said no anywhere along the line."
"After you cut the landing skids out from under me?" I retorted. "Come on, now-I couldn't very well fight both of you."
"And you shouldn't fight with passengers at all," she shot back. "I was trying to give you a dignified way out; if you're hot about that, take it out on me, not him. But bear in mind I was doing you a big favor in there."
"How do you figure that?"
She flashed an impish smile. "He could have asked you to show him around."
I held onto my frown for another second before giving up and grudging her a twisted smile in return. "I can't win anything today, can I?" I muttered, only half joking. "Oh, all right, I owe you one. If Orlandis was bound and determined to cause me trouble he missed his biggest chance."
"I don't think that was what he was up to," she demurred thoughtfully. "I think he's just used to the very best of everything."
"Then the change here should do him good," I snorted.
She gave me a now, now sort of look and waved at the manifest in front of me. "Trouble with the cargo?"
"Not really." I shook my head, glad to have a change of topic. "Just trying to figure out why we've suddenly attracted new customers."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I didn't notice it before, but nearly a quarter of our cargo space is being taken up by four large crates coming from two companies we've never done business with."
She got out of her seat and peered over my shoulder. "Huh. Are we the only ship heading between Baroja and Earth at the moment? If they need to get the cargo there right away that might explain it."
And also explain why someone like Orlandis would stoop to our level? "Maybe, but that seems unlikely.
Didn't you say the Angelwing was even going to Earth this trip?"
"Yes, but by way of Lorraine. They won't arrive until a month after we do."
I sighed. "Well, I suppose it's not impossible. Seems pretty odd, though."
"Maybe I can poke around the question with Orlandis tomorrow," Alana suggested. "He's a businessman; he ought to know about shipping schedules and all."
"What business is he in?"
Her forehead furrowed. "Now that you mention it, I don't think he ever actually said," she told me slowly.
"Though I got the impression it was something important."
"He ought to be on a commercial liner if he's that rich," I grumbled.
"Unless," she said quietly, "he's afraid of people."
I looked up at her, feeling my stomach tighten reflexively. Alana had made practically a second career for herself years back as a mender of bruised spirits and broken wings; had overdosed on the loss and pain that nearly always seemed to come with the job; and was only in the last year or so taking her first tentative steps out from behind the self-erected barriers. If Orlandis was aboard because he was psychologically unable to mingle with the masses of people on a standard liner, then she probably had enough of a challenge to last her the rest of the trip. "Well, if he is he's picked a lousy place to hide," I growled. "Not much real privacy on this albatross."
She touched my shoulder gently. "Don't worry about me," she said. "Orlandis doesn't scare me."
"Um," I said brilliantly, and for a moment we were both silent. Then she took a tired-sounding breath and stepped toward the door.
"I'd better head downstairs and get some sleep," she said. "You ought to do the same, you know-and it is Pascal's shift."
"In a minute," I told her. "Goodnight."
" 'Night."
She left, and with a sigh I called back to the computer room and told Pascal to finish whatever he was doing and get back to the bridge. It wasn't any business of mine if Alana wanted to play emotional counselor on her own time. It wasn't my business whatever she did with her own time. She was all grown up and fully in charge of her life.
Pascal arrived, and I headed down to my cabin. Eventually, I went to sleep.
I spent the next five days walking around on mental tiptoe, waiting for trouble of one type or another to spark between Alana and Orlandis. But all I got for my trouble was the mental equivalent of strained arches. I saw them only once myself as they passed through the engine room, and to all appearances their relationship was running on a strictly proper crewer/passenger level. Certainly Alana was well on top of things; I had ample opportunity to chat with her between our bridge shifts and at occasional meals in the duty mess, and she showed no strain that I could detect.
relationship was running on a strictly proper crewer/passenger level. Certainly Alana was well on top of things; I had ample opportunity to chat with her between our bridge shifts and at occasional meals in the duty mess, and she showed no strain that I could detect.