Dilton's sour smile turned slowly into the expression of a man who'd just opened a box of chocolates and found maggots.
"Well," he said, "heh heh, your documentation appears to be in order, no need to be, uh, nitpicky."
He punched a few keys and her comp received the "cleared" signal that would allow Joat and her crew the freedom of the station and permit docking robots to begin unloading the Wyal's cargo.
"Thank you so much," she gushed and gave him a wink. "I'll be sure and tell G.D. what a pal you were."
Joat punched off the connection and sneered, "No need to be nitpicky." She shivered. "Ghu, but I hate bureaucrats."
The ship rumbled and there was a slight swaying sensation. Docking tractors attached blinked across the screen, and a grid swelled to fill the view. She kept her hands poised over the controls, but the AI and Stationside kept the Wyal steady as she slid towards the non-rotating docking ring at the north pole of New Destinies. About the running of the station and their docking procedures, the New Destinites were consummate professionals.
"Especially you, Dilton," she added in the same tone. "You worm."
"Whozzat?"
The air scrubbers whirred into overdrive as a sudden, overwhelmingly sweet and spicy aroma invaded the control cabin, followed by Alvec Dia, one of her crew. In fact, he was her crew, with an Admiralty Grade artificial intelligence, a three thousand kiloton freighter didn't need more than two.
"Gak!" Joat wheezed, waving her hand in front of her face. "Alvec, what is that stench?"
"Stench, Boss?" Alvec seemed genuinely puzzled. "That's Senalgal Spice, the favorite cologne of the Rose of New Destinies."
He put his hands on his hips and raised a brow, archly. Or as archly as a middle-aged man with scar tissue across the knuckles of both hands and a build like a freight carboy could. Joat couldn't help grinning at him, and an answering smile split the rough, lived-in face.
"You have a lady-friend here?" she asked, trying to breathe shallowly. He had friends of that sort on a number of stations, all answering to the name of Rose.
"Not yet." He winked. "But I aim to."
"Do me a favor, Al, air out a little before you go a-hunting. I wouldn't want you arrested for assault this early in the day. I'd have to bail you out."
"I'll be careful, Mother. We cleared?" He jerked a thumb dockside.
At Joat's nod he waggled his fingers farewell and left with a jaunty step.
She watched him leave. The monitors showed him dodging cargo robots trundling forward across the open space just inside the hull of the docking ring. Then, taking an experienced spacer's leap across to the entrance of the spindle, he grabbed the handholds, did a neat turn and went feet-first through the hatchway, ready for the transition to spin gravity in the core.
There was a clanking through the hull as the robots boarded; she watched on screens slaved to the interior monitors as one busily rushed up to grab a pallet, loaded it onto the flatbed of its body, then hustled off to dockside to unload it onto a stack already piling up on a larger float that would take the shipment to a warehouse.
Joat watched them idly for a few moments, then her interest was caught by their human supervisor.
He was tall, with a soldier's posture but a soft gut. His eyes… they never stopped tracking. Back, forth, back; the eyes of someone expecting trouble, someone who'd been expecting it so long they couldn't stop. Scarred face, with the distinctive red splotch on one cheek. At some time in the not-too-distant past he'd been caught in an explosive decompression. Not an uncommon industrial accident off-planet, but… His uniform was just a little too… something. It fit him, it wasn't new, but somehow, it wasn't right.
He wore it as though it wasn't completely familiar, Joat realized. It had been his hand fumbling for a pocket that wasn't there that had caught her eye. Joat sat up straight.
Who? Nobody she could think of was gunning for her right now-angry with her, yes; ready to do her the dirty in any underhanded way they could, yes. But not killing mad, not enough to hire muscle to go after her. And this man was obviously muscle of some sort. His whole body screamed retired mercenary. But why would a retired mercenary accept a pick-up job on New Destinies?
Not a merc, then. So, he was a cop. And he was watching the Wyal.
But why were they watching her? Dilton hadn't had time to sic this guy on her, even if he'd the guts to do it. Neither had Dyson, whoever he was, because he couldn't possibly have reacted this fast to the little scam she'd just pulled on his buddy. He probably didn't even know about it, at least not yet.
Her mind went to the small mysterious package she was carrying for Central Worlds Security. Did New Destinies know about it? Were they after it? Was it something that would incriminate her?
Joat frowned. She wasn't about to risk her ship for some CenSec song and dance. The package was supposed to be dropped with the local operative at The Anvil, one of the bars around the rim of the station. She glanced at the time, she was due there in one and a half Earth standard hours.
Joat gritted her teeth. So I owe them. That doesn't mean they own me. More to the point, it didn't mean they could endanger her ship. She'd drop it all right, and then she'd tell them what they could do with their special courier packages.
"Rand, I gotta go."
"Now? Before unloading is completed?"
"You see that osco on monitor four?"
"The unloading supervisor?"
"Yeah. He's a cop."
"He can't be, Joat, he's wearing a supervisor's uniform. The police uniform for this port is very different, I assure you."
Rand put a holo snap of a local policeman on screen for her edification.
"I know what a cop looks like, Rand, in or out of uniform. And that's a cop, and he's watching us."
"I'm impressed by your prescience, Joat. Why is he watching us?"
"I don't know and I don't intend to find out. I'm going out the side door."
"The…? Joat, we don't have a side door."
"I'm going out the service hatch and into the station via one of theirs," she said, briskly closing out the file she'd been idly working on while waiting for clearance.
"That's illegal…"
"I know that, but…"
"And dangerous!"
"I'm relying on you to help me avoid getting caught," she explained. Joat wondered how Rand would choose to respond, for she'd given it almost complete autonomy. It might decide to have nothing to do with this scheme, which would complicate things tremendously.
"Could we talk deal?" Rand asked smoothly.
Joat's eyebrows went up and she cocked her head.
"Excuse me?"
"That exasperation program…?"
Joat frowned and folded her arms thoughtfully. Then she sighed.
"Okay, deal, you can erase the program. Now will you help me?"
"I'll do my best." Rand's voice conveyed pride in self combined with disapproval of her plans.
Joat suppressed a smile. Sometimes Rand was downright prissy. She wondered if she'd unintentionally programmed it that way-it couldn't have caught it from her behavior, that was sure.
"Don't worry Rand."
"When you say not to worry, worry becomes imperative."
"Where's the station's nearest service hatch to Wyal?" she asked.
Rand threw a schematic on the screen, replacing the smiling policeman. Wyal was represented by a bunking yellow dot, the nearest service hatch blinked red.