Read Online Korval's Game by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steve Miller, Sharon Lee
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and garbage scows. Drinking too much, doing too much smoke. Lost my family in an Yxtrang raid—wife, kids, parents. Went off my head, I guess. Came to, eventually—no money, no job, and no friends. Shan needed pilots—‘Always need a good pilot,’ he said—gods, I can still see him coming into that dive—skinny, shoulders not filled yet, cutting deals like a pro—sixteen, maybe seventeen Standards—with that white hair and a kid’s face and those eyes. Never seen eyes like that . . .” He blinked; shook his head and Priscilla let him break the trance.
He sighed. “Shan got me out of there—out of all of there. Gave me a chance. ‘My man,’ is what he told the port guard. ‘That’s my man, sir; and he’s wanted at his post.’” He nodded sharply and turned away, heading doggedly down the hall.
“If it’s Yxtrang or if it’s something worse,” he said as Priscilla fell in beside him, “I reckon I can man my post.”
***
Shan looked up as she entered his office, smiled wanly and returned to the screen. Priscilla crossed to the bar and poured two glasses of wine—red, for him; white, for her—and carried them back to the desk. She slid into the chair opposite and waited, holding the glass and running through a low-level exercise to restore tranquility.
“Thank you, Priscilla.” He picked up his own glass, waved it in ironic salute and took a healthy drink.
“You’re welcome,” she murmured, reading the worry and the exhaustion and the sparking nervous energy overlaying his emotive grid. “The First Mate reports all lifeships armed. Field tests remain to be done, but everything reads fine on the circuits.” She sipped wine. “Seth Johnson chooses to remain with his Captain.”
Shan sighed. “Seth Johnson is a sentimental fool,” he said, and nodded at the screen. “We have a match.”
“So soon?”
“Amazing, isn’t it? With so many gene-maps in the galaxy?” He grinned tiredly. “I played a hunch—that notation on Sergeant Robertson’s birth certificate— mutated within acceptable limits— you recall?”
She nodded. “You thought that might mean ‘partly Liaden.’”
“And my thought has proved correct—I tell you, Priscilla, I’m not a master of trade for nothing! Though you would consider that a scout might more fully communicate—but I digress. How unusual.” He took another swallow of wine and waved at the screen. “Miri Robertson’s gene-map matches that of Line Tiazan.” He eyed her expectantly.
She sipped her wine, knowing that her temple training had taught her more than enough patience to wait out one of Shan’s rare silences.
“You disappoint me. Don’t you have the least wish to know who the devil Tiazan is and where we’ll be meeting my wretched brother?”
“But I was certain you were about to tell me.”
“Unkind, Priscilla. I can’t think why I lifemated you.”
“Because I let you talk as much as you want.”
“Do you? How odd. Especially as I have the distinct impression that I’m talking less than I ever have. But, I perceive you a-quiver with curiosity and hasten to explain.”
He set his glass aside with a flourish and sat up straighter in the chair, humor vanishing from face and emotive grid.
“Tiazan is First Line of Clan Erob,” he said; “which has its seat upon Lytaxin. So to go to ‘Miri’s people’ as directed by my brother and delm-to-be, we need merely go to Lytaxin. Very simple, once one has the proper information. What astonishes me particularly is that for once in his life Val Con seems to have done exactly as he ought.”
Priscilla blinked. “He has?”
“As I said, astonishing. Though, to be just, Val Con often does as he ought. Of course, he just as often does precisely as he pleases. I expect there’s a deliberate pattern involved, calculated to a hair’s breadth to appear random. One afternoon when I’m bored I’ll feed the parameters to the tactical computers and see what they make of it. But
He sighed. “Shan got me out of there—out of all of there. Gave me a chance. ‘My man,’ is what he told the port guard. ‘That’s my man, sir; and he’s wanted at his post.’” He nodded sharply and turned away, heading doggedly down the hall.
“If it’s Yxtrang or if it’s something worse,” he said as Priscilla fell in beside him, “I reckon I can man my post.”
***
Shan looked up as she entered his office, smiled wanly and returned to the screen. Priscilla crossed to the bar and poured two glasses of wine—red, for him; white, for her—and carried them back to the desk. She slid into the chair opposite and waited, holding the glass and running through a low-level exercise to restore tranquility.
“Thank you, Priscilla.” He picked up his own glass, waved it in ironic salute and took a healthy drink.
“You’re welcome,” she murmured, reading the worry and the exhaustion and the sparking nervous energy overlaying his emotive grid. “The First Mate reports all lifeships armed. Field tests remain to be done, but everything reads fine on the circuits.” She sipped wine. “Seth Johnson chooses to remain with his Captain.”
Shan sighed. “Seth Johnson is a sentimental fool,” he said, and nodded at the screen. “We have a match.”
“So soon?”
“Amazing, isn’t it? With so many gene-maps in the galaxy?” He grinned tiredly. “I played a hunch—that notation on Sergeant Robertson’s birth certificate— mutated within acceptable limits— you recall?”
She nodded. “You thought that might mean ‘partly Liaden.’”
“And my thought has proved correct—I tell you, Priscilla, I’m not a master of trade for nothing! Though you would consider that a scout might more fully communicate—but I digress. How unusual.” He took another swallow of wine and waved at the screen. “Miri Robertson’s gene-map matches that of Line Tiazan.” He eyed her expectantly.
She sipped her wine, knowing that her temple training had taught her more than enough patience to wait out one of Shan’s rare silences.
“You disappoint me. Don’t you have the least wish to know who the devil Tiazan is and where we’ll be meeting my wretched brother?”
“But I was certain you were about to tell me.”
“Unkind, Priscilla. I can’t think why I lifemated you.”
“Because I let you talk as much as you want.”
“Do you? How odd. Especially as I have the distinct impression that I’m talking less than I ever have. But, I perceive you a-quiver with curiosity and hasten to explain.”
He set his glass aside with a flourish and sat up straighter in the chair, humor vanishing from face and emotive grid.
“Tiazan is First Line of Clan Erob,” he said; “which has its seat upon Lytaxin. So to go to ‘Miri’s people’ as directed by my brother and delm-to-be, we need merely go to Lytaxin. Very simple, once one has the proper information. What astonishes me particularly is that for once in his life Val Con seems to have done exactly as he ought.”
Priscilla blinked. “He has?”
“As I said, astonishing. Though, to be just, Val Con often does as he ought. Of course, he just as often does precisely as he pleases. I expect there’s a deliberate pattern involved, calculated to a hair’s breadth to appear random. One afternoon when I’m bored I’ll feed the parameters to the tactical computers and see what they make of it. But
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