Necessary Evils (Adventures in the Liaden Universe®?) (4 page)

A man came briskly 'round the corner, stuttered to a halt, and then danced back as Zara Chance lunged, vibro-blade humming like a live thing. She pursued, and he swung to one side, missing the kick, slapping at his vest, and around the corner came his mate, shouting, gun out. A shot went over Daav's head and he swept forward, meaning to knock the gun away, when yet another person arrived, copper hair gleaming in the meager light, gun out and leveled.

"Put the knife down and stand away from the pilot, hands where I can see them," he said in calm, no-nonsense Trade. "Make me ask twice and it won't be so civil."

"Since we are being civil . . ." She thumbed her weapon off, crouched to place it on the ground, and flung herself sidewise, hitting Daav hard enough to send him staggering toward the man with the gun. Startled, he tucked and hit the ground rolling, heard a shot whine somewhere overhead and heard the red-haired man snap, "I'll mind him--don't lose her!"

There came the sound of boots against gritty tarmac, and Daav continued his roll, snapped to his feet, turned to pursue--and froze, the sound of a safety being disengaged ludicrously loud.

"I have," he said over his shoulder, "business with the lady."

"Mine comes first," the red-haired man answered. "Drop the knife, why not?"

Daav sighed and turned to face him. "Because I happen to be fond of it and don't want to risk nicking the edge, if you must know."

A grin flickered, ghostly, across the pale face. "Put it away, then. Tell me where."

"Left boot," Daav said obligingly, and bent to slip the blade home. He could no longer hear sounds of the chase, and silently cursed himself for losing his contact like an idiot.

"That lady's bad trouble," the man with the gun said, when he straightened. "You get on home or to the guildhall or wherever you're wanted and let us take care of her."

Daav felt his temper flicker, not to mention a lively spurt of curiosity about his solicitous captor.

"Perhaps you think
I'm
not bad trouble," he said, allowing his voice to take an edge. "That would be a mistake."

The other man cocked his head to one side, hair glinting like metal in the dim light. He shifted the gun, but notably did not snap the safety on. "What's your name, Trouble?"

"Daav," he said shortly, feeling the curiosity rise above his irritation. "And your own?"

"Clarence. Your lady-friend is a link to a bunch of pilots going missing on this port. That's my concern. I can't afford to lose pilots--it's expensive and it's bad for business, and it's going to stop."

"I agree with you upon every point. Stopping it is precisely the reason I am here; exactly the reason I agreed to go with Zara Chance to meet her 'recruiter'; and . . . "

"Where's your backup?" Clarence interrupted. Daav blinked, and said nothing.

"You came down here
by yourself
,
without backup
?" The safety went on with an emphatic snap and the gun disappeared into a pocket, as if Clarence no longer considered him a threat. Daav was inclined to feel insulted.

"I'll tell you what," Clarence said sharply; "that's
stupid,
hear me? I don't ever want to hear about you taking that kind of risk on my port again. I hear it and you're still alive, you'll wish you weren't. You reading me, Trouble?"

It seemed the red-haired man was genuinely angry. And the claim of it being
his
port nothing short of suicidal, when speaking with one of--

Oh
, Daav thought, recalling his state of deliberate shabbiness.

"Let me be clear," he said, speaking with gentle care. "My name is Daav yos'Phelium Clan Korval. I am rather inclined to believe that this is
my
port, far more than it is yours."

He felt, rather than saw, the other man stiffen, heard the soft exhalation of breath that sounded peculiarly like "Fuck," before Clarence raised his hand, said, "Look . . ." and hesitated.

Daav, fair ablaze with curiosity, waited, posture conveying nothing other than polite interest.

Clarence sighed, and lowered his hand. "It was still stupid," he said, firmly.

"Since you put it like that," Daav said, feeling an unexpected jolt of relief, "I agree. It was stupid. In my defense, I hardly expected contact tonight. My information on the missing pilots indicates that they were patrons of two different establishments--"

"Five," Clarence interrupted. "We've got her charted. Seems to have only been the one woman, but she was careful not to--overfish the waters, like my friend back at Ilgay's has it." He paused. "We should probably merge info."

"Though perhaps," Daav murmured, "not on the open street."

"Point." Clarence sighed. "I'm the new Juntavas boss, by the way. Clarence O'Berin."

"I had thought you must be, as soon as I saw you dance in as Beggar King, though you seem young for the office," Daav said dryly, and around an unaccountable feeling of regret. He liked this Clarence, with his blunt good sense and competent planning. Which was, he acknowledged, just like his perversity. "You must be quite accomplished."

Clarence snorted. "No. Just the last in a set of people who let the sector boss get scared of 'em." He sighed. "So you see I know something about stupid."

"Ah," said Daav. "What . . . " Clarence held up a hand, and he swallowed the rest of his question as the other fished a comm out of his pocket and brought it to his lips.

"Go."

He listened, briefly, murmured, "Out," and stowed the unit with a nod.

"My team's got Zara Chance locked down. Innerested in hearing what she has to say for herself?"

"Very," Daav answered, and fell in beside his new . . . associate.

*

Daav yos'Phelium's long legs easily kept the pace Clarence set to Belle's coordinates. The lanky pilot made about as much noise as a shadow, which got Clarence to reviewing what he knew of the individuals who made up Clan Korval, while keeping a wary eye on the street.

Chi yos'Phelium, delm, was in Herself's deep notes, attached to a long list of warnings and qualifiers for the education of those who might come after. Near as he could figure, the delm was Herself's age, give or take five Standards. At a guess, Daav was right around Clarence's age, too young, and likely of too low a rank to be any of Herself's concern. Boss would, naturally, talk to Boss. On Liad even more than anywhere else.

Clarence looked at his companion, what could be seen of him in the general dimness.

"I'd have thought Chi'd come herself, since the issue was pilots," he said, more or less a shot at random.

Daav made a soft sound that might have been a laugh.

"My mother," he said, " would have been . . . conspicuous, let us say. Besides, she wishes to train me for my lifework, when she is through with being delm, and I am ever as much a pilot as she, in these days." There was a small pause before he continued.

"I would have thought Boss Toonapple would have left
her port
in better repair. Perhaps her . . . withdrawal . . . was hasty?"

"Herself, Boss Toonapple as you have her, she retired, all peaceful and legal, and left the business in good order. Last message I had from her said she was going someplace where she didn't have to look at a Liaden for a dozen years." He sent a quick glance at the other's profile. "Sorry."

"No need," his companion replied. "Indeed, I am much in sympathy with the Boss. I infer, then, that there was some lapse of time before you were appointed to take her place?"

"There were a couple others sent first, by that sector boss I was telling you about. They didn't manage to survive too long. Staff tried to hold line, but things started slipping with nobody at first board, if you take me. Most of what I've been doing since I got here is showing the flag to the locals and tightening up systems that slipped due to lack of repair. Like this one." The tracker shook against his wrist, and he reached out to put a hand on Daav's sleeve, stopping him.

"This is my gig, all right? You're here to witness and report back to your boss--delm."

"Agreed," Daav answered, and it might have been the truth. Clarence hoped so; he didn't warm to people much, but he found himself liking Daav yos'Phelium.

*

There were passed through to the room where Zara Chance was held by herself, secluded from the others Clarence's people had surprised and secured. She looked up as they came in, and smiled when she saw Daav.

"So, Pilot," she said, her voice husky and languid. "Want to buy some luck?"

"I believe you may wish to husband what you have," he answered. "But I thank you for your concern."

Her laugh was cut off as Clarence stepped forward, her expression shifting toward disgust.

"Terran," she spat.

"That's right," Clarence said, calmly. "Nice to meet you, too. I've got some questions for you, and I'm going to give you a chance to answer them on your own. If you don't want to play nice, then Mr. Urel here will be happy to introduce you to our particular brand of happy juice. I'm told it's sometimes unpleasant, but not fatal."

Zara Chance stared at him, but did not respond.

"Listen close: I've got a list of ten pilots gone missing out of five gambling houses; four were seen with you on the nights they vanished." Clarence jerked his head toward Daav. "This pilot here has similar data linking you to the disappearance of pilots. You're made, is what I'm saying. Now, what I want from you is the name and location of your boss, your access codes, and the details of what happened to those pilots, as far as you know them."

"Is that all?" she asked politely, and Daav saw her shudder, minutely. "Alas, I am not able to--"

"Poison!" He snapped and jumped forward, reaching for the kit that wasn't on his belt. He grabbed her shoulder. "What is it?"

She laughed again, breath suddenly short, and stared up at him in defiance.

"Why it is fatal, Pilot. What . . . else . . . would you have of poison?" Her face was sheeted in sweat, and she was gasping in earnest now. "Soon, you will know your reliance on the Code for the culture . . . idiocy . . . it--"

She gurgled, eyes rolling up in her head. Daav caught her, and eased her body to the floor.

"Dammit!" Clarence swore behind him, and Daav reached out to close her eyes.

"Indeed."

*

"I . . . see," his mother said slowly. "So, my son, you tell me that your errand is unfulfilled?"

"It is the judgment of Mr. O'Berin and myself that we have but cut off one head of a hydra," he admitted.

"Thus warning the others to be more circumspect," his mother said tartly, and Daav inclined his head.