The Ship Avenged

Chapter Six

Mr. va Riguez:

I need to speak to you immediately on a matter of extreme urgency. Wyal is scheduled for departure at 03:00. Please contact me before then.

Sincerely,

Captain Simeon-Hap

She should have signed it desperately instead of sincerely, Bros thought, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He leaned back in the big, faux-leather chair in The Anvil's office. Still, I'm surprised she said please. That lonely plea didn't seem to go with the imperious tone of the rest of her note. Dyson must have taken me at my word. He'd known the little weasel would.

Sperin had authorized the clerk to fine Joat up to twenty thousand credits. Or at least to tell her he was fining her that much. In reality the fine shouldn't be more than five or six thousand. Even that amount would be tough for Joat to scrape together. But twenty thousand… That was an absolutely staggering fine for any ship, let alone a struggling independent freighter like hers.

Bros grinned. Ridding her of a fine that size ought to engender a lot of gratitude, he thought comfortably. Then his pleasure slowly faded. Joat Simeon-Hap wasn't someone he'd like to see broken to the plow, jumping when he snapped his fingers, dancing when he pulled her strings.

He didn't want CenSec to lose her. But I don't want them to own her soul either.

Them? he asked himself in mild surprise. He frowned. It had been many years since he'd thought of CenSec as other than we, or I. Some of that girl's independence is rubbing off on me, he thought ruefully.

"Sal," he said. Getting up he went to the heavy-shouldered man seated at an overburdened desk and dropped Joat's note in front of him. "Take care of this for me, would you? Joat Simeon-Hap's ship, the Wyal, has been fined by the station. Pay it out of my special account."

"Sure, Mr. va Riguez, no problem," Sal said. He had a voice like stones grinding together.

Bros picked up his jacket and swung it over his shoulder. "And if Captain Simeon-Hap should call looking for me, you don't know where I am."

"I never do, sir," Sal agreed with a gap-toothed grin.

"But you might ask her if she'd like to leave a message."

Sal's sandy eyebrows went up. "I'm not sure I'm old enough to listen to the kind of language she's liable to use, sir."

Bros chuckled. "You tell her that," he advised.

Sal stared at the door after it had closed behind Sperin, then he glanced at the note again. I'll take care of it tomorrow, he thought. It's not like they charge interest. He put the note aside and went back to work.