Read Online Devil to the Belt (v1.1) by C. J. Cherryh - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: C. J. Cherryh
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easy,” Ben scowled. “Listen, I saved and did without all my life to get that 20 k, you understand? Nobody ever handed me a break, nobody ever gave me a damn thing, and here we have the best break anybody could look for—”
“It doesn’t say we own that ship. It doesn’t.”
“God, Bird,—”
“We’ll be all right.” He could understand Ben’s panic, on that level: the 20 k was hard come by, all right, so was everything. “We won’t go under.”
“Go under! You’re old enough to know better, Bird. I put my whole life savings into this operation!”
“So have I,” he said shortly, and hauled himself down and turned so he could see Ben’s face rightwise up. “Thirty plus years’ worth. And listen to me: you don’t go hitting the guy again. He’s had enough knocks to the head.”
“So who is he? Who is he that you owe him a damn thing, Bird? Is there something about this guy I don’t know? Somewhere you’ve met this guy before?”
He looked at Ben with this feeling they were not communicating again: he listened to Ben’s single-minded craziness with the uncomfortable feeling he might yet have to take a wrench to his partner.
But just about the time he thought Ben might really blow, Ben gave this little wave of his hand and a shake of his head. “All right, all right, we’re going in, abort our run—forget it, forget I said anything.”
“What day is it?” Dekker asked from across the cabin. “Cory?
Cory
?”
“The 21st,” he told him. “May 21st.”
Ben raked his hand through his hair, rolled an anguished glance toward Bird. “I want rid of him. God only knows what happened to his partner. Or if there ever was a partner.”
“Cory?”
“Shut up!” Ben screamed at Dekker. “Just shut it up!”
Bird bit his lip and just kept it to himself. There were times you talked things over and there were times you didn’t, and Ben certainly didn’t act in any way to discuss things at the moment.
“Just get our confirm out of Base,” Bird said, and ventured a pat on Ben’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Ben. Hear?”
“Shut him up,” Ben begged him. “Just shut him up for a while.”
Dekker worked at the tape on his wrist, such as he could—his fingers were swollen, his ribs hurt, and he could not understand how he had gotten this way or whether he had done something to deserve being beaten and tied up like this—he flatly could not remember except the shower, the green ribbed shower, the watch—it was that day, something was going to happen to Cory—if it was that day… but Bird said May, not March.
January has thirty days. No, 31. February 28. March…
Thirty days hath September… April, March, and November…
“April,
May
, and November. Shut
up
!”
March 12. Thirty-one days. 21 less 12.
No, start in January. That’s 30, no, 31, and 28—or 29 if it’s leap year —is it leap year?
“It’s not a leap year!”
28 and 12—no, start again. Thirty days in January—
“It’s May efün’ 21st, Dekker!”
Reckoning backward—twenty-one days in May—
Couldn’t happen. Couldn’t be then—
“You reset my watch, damn you! You’re trying to drive me crazy!”
Bird came drifting up to him, put his hand on his shoulder, caught the cold pack that was drifting there and made him take it again. Bird said, quietly, on what previous subject he had no idea at all, “Time doesn’t matter now, son. Just take it easy. We’re about ready to catch our beam. You’ll hear the sail deploy in a bit.”
“Refinery Two,” he said. He remembered. He hoped he did. He hoped it wasn’t all to happen again.
“That’s right.” Another pat on his arm. Bird might be crazy as Ben, but he thought there was something decent in Bird. He let Bird tilt his head over and take a look at his eye, the right one, that was swelling and sore.
“Bird, do me a favor.”
“You’re short on favors right now, son. What?”
“Call my partner.”
“We’re doing all we
“It doesn’t say we own that ship. It doesn’t.”
“God, Bird,—”
“We’ll be all right.” He could understand Ben’s panic, on that level: the 20 k was hard come by, all right, so was everything. “We won’t go under.”
“Go under! You’re old enough to know better, Bird. I put my whole life savings into this operation!”
“So have I,” he said shortly, and hauled himself down and turned so he could see Ben’s face rightwise up. “Thirty plus years’ worth. And listen to me: you don’t go hitting the guy again. He’s had enough knocks to the head.”
“So who is he? Who is he that you owe him a damn thing, Bird? Is there something about this guy I don’t know? Somewhere you’ve met this guy before?”
He looked at Ben with this feeling they were not communicating again: he listened to Ben’s single-minded craziness with the uncomfortable feeling he might yet have to take a wrench to his partner.
But just about the time he thought Ben might really blow, Ben gave this little wave of his hand and a shake of his head. “All right, all right, we’re going in, abort our run—forget it, forget I said anything.”
“What day is it?” Dekker asked from across the cabin. “Cory?
Cory
?”
“The 21st,” he told him. “May 21st.”
Ben raked his hand through his hair, rolled an anguished glance toward Bird. “I want rid of him. God only knows what happened to his partner. Or if there ever was a partner.”
“Cory?”
“Shut up!” Ben screamed at Dekker. “Just shut it up!”
Bird bit his lip and just kept it to himself. There were times you talked things over and there were times you didn’t, and Ben certainly didn’t act in any way to discuss things at the moment.
“Just get our confirm out of Base,” Bird said, and ventured a pat on Ben’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Ben. Hear?”
“Shut him up,” Ben begged him. “Just shut him up for a while.”
Dekker worked at the tape on his wrist, such as he could—his fingers were swollen, his ribs hurt, and he could not understand how he had gotten this way or whether he had done something to deserve being beaten and tied up like this—he flatly could not remember except the shower, the green ribbed shower, the watch—it was that day, something was going to happen to Cory—if it was that day… but Bird said May, not March.
January has thirty days. No, 31. February 28. March…
Thirty days hath September… April, March, and November…
“April,
May
, and November. Shut
up
!”
March 12. Thirty-one days. 21 less 12.
No, start in January. That’s 30, no, 31, and 28—or 29 if it’s leap year —is it leap year?
“It’s not a leap year!”
28 and 12—no, start again. Thirty days in January—
“It’s May efün’ 21st, Dekker!”
Reckoning backward—twenty-one days in May—
Couldn’t happen. Couldn’t be then—
“You reset my watch, damn you! You’re trying to drive me crazy!”
Bird came drifting up to him, put his hand on his shoulder, caught the cold pack that was drifting there and made him take it again. Bird said, quietly, on what previous subject he had no idea at all, “Time doesn’t matter now, son. Just take it easy. We’re about ready to catch our beam. You’ll hear the sail deploy in a bit.”
“Refinery Two,” he said. He remembered. He hoped he did. He hoped it wasn’t all to happen again.
“That’s right.” Another pat on his arm. Bird might be crazy as Ben, but he thought there was something decent in Bird. He let Bird tilt his head over and take a look at his eye, the right one, that was swelling and sore.
“Bird, do me a favor.”
“You’re short on favors right now, son. What?”
“Call my partner.”
“We’re doing all we
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